Category: English

My wife told me she was drowning in debt. She begged me to fake my own death so her creditors would back off. But on the day of my funeral, peering through a hairline fracture in the wood of my casket, I saw something that turned my blood to ice. My wife’s “great lost love”—the man she’d spent our entire marriage pining for—was standing at the altar. And he was wearing my face. The priest’s voice droned through the chapel, reciting the final rites for a man named Roman. My “fake” funeral had just become Roman’s very real ticket to a new life. My body went rigid. A cold, paralyzing dread seeped into my marrow. I realized then, with a clarity that shattered my heart, that Becca didn’t just want me gone. She wanted me dead. I tried to thrash, to scream, but the lid had been hammered shut with terrifying finality. My mouth was sealed tight with heavy-duty duct tape. Through the tiny gap in the wood, I saw the man with my face lean down. His eyes, usually so full of practiced sorrow, were glittering with a jagged, triumphant malice. “Glenn,” he whispered, his voice muffled by the mahogany. “Becca isn’t broke. She never was. She just needed a body to put in the ground so I could take your life.” I died in that box, clawing at the lid until my fingernails tore away, gasping for air that never came. My last moments were spent leaving bloody, desperate gouges in the wood that no one would ever see. After I was gone, he stepped into my shoes. He took my wealth, my reputation, my everything, while I was dumped in a nameless grave in the middle of nowhere. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. It was the night before the funeral. … “What are you doing just standing there? Get in the damn casket.” Becca’s voice, sharp and impatient, cut through the silence of the room. I blinked, my vision blurring as I looked around. The black drapes, the smell of lilies cloying and heavy, the polished mahogany box resting on its trestles. It hit me like a physical blow. I was back. In my past life, Becca told me her investments had tanked. I’d liquidated every asset I had, emptied my 401(k), and sold my soul to help her, but she claimed it wasn’t enough. She convinced me to sign a debt-assumption agreement and then staged this “exit strategy.” She’d told me it was the only way to save us. In reality, it was the only way to save Roman—the man she’d never stopped loving, the man she blamed me for “ruining.” I forced myself to breathe. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and managed a single, hollow word. “Fine.” A flicker of relief crossed Becca’s face, though her eyes remained cold, professional. “Just get used to the space,” she said, her tone clipped. “I made some soup. I’ll go get a bowl for you before we settle in for the night.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen. I didn’t lie down like a lamb to the slaughter this time. The moment she was gone, I sat up, covering my nose and mouth with my sleeve. In my first life, I thought the soup had been drugged. But as I sat there, I realized the scent was coming from inside the box. The silk lining was damp, saturated with high-grade ether. If I had stayed in there for even two minutes, I would have drifted off into that same dark sleep, never to wake up again. It was a surgical, heartless plan. I climbed out of the casket, my movements silent and frantic. I followed her toward the kitchen, staying in the shadows. I wanted to see her face. I wanted to see the mask slip. I reached the door just as a sound drifted out—a low, rhythmic moan that made my skin crawl. I peered through the crack in the door. My wife wasn’t making soup. She was wrapped in the arms of the man who was supposed to be in hiding. “Becca, babe,” Roman whispered, his hands roaming over her with a possessive heat. “Is that loser in the box yet?” “Roman, stop,” she giggled, a sound I hadn’t heard from her in years. “He does whatever I tell him. He’s already under.” Roman let out a dark, arrogant laugh. “Perfect. He actually thinks you’re in debt. He has no idea this is all just payback for what he did to me.” Becca sighed, leaning her head against his chest. “Don’t be mad about the past, Roman. When he caught us back then… he had so much power, so much money. I had to tell him you forced yourself on me. I didn’t have a choice.” “And I spent years in a cell because of that lie,” Roman growled, though his tone was softening. “Which is why I’m giving you his life now,” she whispered. “The ether will keep him out. Go in there, tie him up, and nail it shut. Tomorrow, he dies, and everything he owns becomes yours.” As Roman lifted his head, the moonlight hit his face. It was uncanny. The same jawline, the same brow—he had spent the last year undergoing surgeries to become my double. Fury, hot and blinding, surged through me. For three years, I had lived in a sexless, miserable marriage because she claimed she was “traumatized” by the “assault” I’d rescued her from. I had endured her verbal abuse, her spending rages, and the slow dismantling of my company, all because I felt guilty for her pain. I had sacrificed my family’s legacy, sold my grandfather’s estate, all to save a woman who was currently planning my murder with her lover. I watched Roman head toward the funeral parlor. I followed him, my shadow merging with the dark. He wanted a disappearing act? Fine. I’d make sure Roman’s funeral was the real deal. Roman walked up to the casket. He didn’t open it immediately. Instead, he stood over it, his face twisted in a sneer of pure hatred. “Glenn, you bastard,” he spat. “Remember when I begged you for mercy at the sentencing? You looked me in the eye and told the judge to give me the maximum. You stole years of my life.” He laughed, a jagged, ugly sound. “Since you’re about to be worm-food, I’ll tell you a secret. That one time Becca let you touch her three years ago? That was my idea. I wanted to see if you could even manage it.” My teeth ground together so hard I thought they might shatter. “You actually got her pregnant, didn’t you? A real little miracle. Do you want to know what happened to that baby, Glenn? Becca didn’t miscarry. She came to see me on my work release, and we decided we didn’t want anything of yours living in this world. We got rid of it together.” I felt the world tilt. The air left my lungs. The child I had mourned for years—the loss I had blamed myself for—had been murdered by the two people I trusted most. “But hey, you’ll never hear this. You’re already gone.” Roman smirked and threw back the lid of the casket. His eyes went wide. His breath hitched. “What the… where is he?” The room was silent. He spun around, his pulse visible in his neck. He looked right at the corner where I was standing. “Glenn?” he stammered, his voice climbing an octave. “How are you… why aren’t you in the box?” The rage that had been simmering in my chest finally erupted. I didn’t give him a chance to move. I lunged, grabbing a handful of his hair and slamming his face into the edge of the mahogany casket. There was a sickening crunch as his nose shattered. Blood sprayed across the white silk lining. Before he could scream, I shoved a wad of duct tape over his mouth and tackled him into the box. I used the zip ties I’d grabbed from the garage to bind his hands and feet. He thrashed like a landed fish, muffled grunts of terror vibrating through the wood. The lid was heavy, and he was fighting with the strength of a desperate man. Just as I was struggling to hold it down, a voice cut through the room. “Glenn?!” I froze. Becca was standing in the doorway, a heavy framing hammer in her hand, her face a mask of icy resolve. Roman’s eyes pleaded with her. He thought his savior had arrived. I didn’t look at him. I turned toward her, mimicking Roman’s arrogant posture, and let out a low, shaky laugh. “Becca, it’s me. It’s Roman.” She paused, squinting through the dim light. I had the same build, the same face, and Roman’s clothes. She stepped closer, her expression softening into something disturbingly tender. “Roman? God, the resemblance is so perfect I almost scared myself.” Inside the box, the real Roman went still, a horrific realization dawning in his eyes. He began to thrash even harder, the casket groaning under the strain. Becca’s face hardened. She walked over and swung the hammer, slamming it down on the lid right above where his head would be. “Shut up!” she screamed at the box. The sound of wood splintering and a muffled shriek echoed through the room. Roman curled into a ball inside, his jaw likely broken by the force of the blow. Becca looked at me, her eyes shining with a chilling devotion. “Glenn, I tried to make this easy for you with the ether. Why do you have to make me hurt you?” I didn’t say a word. I just watched her. She thought I was Roman. She thought the man she was about to bury alive was her “unwanted” husband. She pulled a roll of industrial tape from her pocket and smoothed it over the seams of the lid. Then, she looked at me and smiled. “Help me with the nails, honey. Let’s put Glenn to rest for good.” I watched her, stroke after stroke, drive the nails into the wood, sealing her soulmate into his own grave. I couldn’t wait to see her face when she realized who she had actually killed. The service was held at the small chapel next to the crematorium. By the time Becca and I arrived, the “mourners” were already thin on the ground. There was no real grief here. The few relatives Roman had were clearly in on the scam. They nodded at me—at the man they thought was Roman—with knowing grins. “After today, you two can finally be a real couple,” one of them whispered, clapping me on the shoulder. “That bastard Glenn held you back for way too long.” Becca squeezed my hand, her palm sweaty. “Roman, we’re almost there. Aren’t you happy?” I remained silent for a long moment before asking, “Becca, did it have to end like this? If you’d just asked for a divorce, I’m sure he would have given it to you.” She frowned, her grip tightening. “Don’t start with that, Roman. Are you still guilty about the trial? I stayed with him to bleed him dry for you. Everything he had is ours now. It’s your compensation.” She reached into her designer bag and pulled out a gold card, sliding it into my hand. “Here. This is what I’ve been siphoning from his accounts over the last three years. Happy now?” I took the card, my fingers trembling. I started to laugh, a single tear escaping and rolling down my cheek. I was so happy, Becca. Happy to realize what a fool I’d been. I had loved her for ten years. I had thought her spending was a coping mechanism for her “trauma.” I had sold my family’s history, ignored my grandfather’s dying wish to keep our land, all to fund her secret life with another man. I looked at the casket where Roman lay, likely suffocating in the dark. “Becca,” I said, my voice thick with a dark irony. “I think I’ve changed my mind. Let’s not bother with a burial. Let’s just send him straight to the furnace.” The casket vibrated violently. The people around us looked away, pretending not to notice. “Burning’s better,” a loud, gravelly voice echoed from behind us. “A predator like him deserves to turn to ash.” I turned. My father-in-law, Arthur, was walking toward us. He stood by the casket, his face twisted in a sneer. “This animal hurt my daughter. Dying is too good for him.” He was cursing Roman’s name, but his eyes were on me, filled with a conspiratorial wink. He thought he was cursing me. I had treated this man like my own father. I had paid his medical bills, taken him on vacations, and respected him. Why did he hate me so much? Arthur reached out and nudged the casket with his foot. His expression shifted. He frowned, pushing it again. “Wait. Something’s wrong. This box… it feels too light.” The casket began to thrash again, a desperate, rhythmic banging against the wood. Arthur looked at me, then back at the box. “Is it possible… did we get the wrong guy in there?” The room went still. Becca hissed under her breath, “Dad, stop it! I locked him in myself last night. You know Roman is my savior—if I thought for a second I’d put him in danger, I’d kill myself!” But Arthur’s suspicion didn’t fade. “I built this box myself, Becca. I had Glenn lie in it weeks ago to ‘check the fit’ as a joke. This weight isn’t right.” He reached for the lid, his eyes hard. “Dad! If you open that now, you’ll ruin everything!” Becca grabbed his arm. “Once the furnace starts, Glenn’s life belongs to us. Roman can live under his name, and no one will ever know. Do you want to risk a scene now with all these people outside?” I stepped in, my voice calm. “Becca’s right. This is the transition period. We can’t afford any mistakes.” Arthur looked around at the curious glances from the staff. “Fine. But let’s get it to the fire. Now.” Roman’s muffled screams were becoming more frantic. Becca rushed over to the small air-slit she’d left and poured a large bottle of ether directly inside. The thrashing slowed, then stopped. Becca whispered to the wood, her voice devoid of emotion. “Don’t hate me, Glenn. Love is about who was there first. You have no idea what Roman sacrificed for me when we were kids. You sent him to prison. This is just the world correcting itself.” I listened to her, my mind spinning. Roman sacrificed for her when they were kids? I had investigated Roman years ago. He grew up in Europe. Becca had never left the States as a child. But I remembered something else. When I was a boy, staying with my grandfather in the mountains, my father and I had rescued a father and daughter who were lost in a storm. During the rescue, I had fallen down a ravine and shattered my leg. My father… he had drowned trying to get us across the creek. I looked at Becca. Then at Arthur. Arthur was the one who told me Becca had been assaulted in that hotel room. He was the one who pushed for the police report. He knew Roman. He knew their history. Why would he do this? As the funeral staff began to slide the casket toward the furnace, they pulled the body out to prepare it for the tray. Arthur’s brow furrowed deeper. He stepped forward, putting a hand on the shroud, weighing the body. “Becca,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “The weight… it’s all wrong. It’s too light.” “Dad, shut up!” Becca snapped. “I need to see his face,” Arthur insisted, his hand reaching for the cloth. Becca blocked him, her face pale. “Are you crazy? Someone will see!” The staff were starting to look over, confused. Arthur’s face was a mask of agonizing indecision. He didn’t want to get caught, but his gut was screaming at him. In the end, he let his greed win. He stood back and watched as the body was pushed into the maw of the crematorium. The fire roared to life with a deafening whoosh. Through the observation window, we watched the flames lick the shroud. Becca leaned against me, her voice trembling with excitement. “It’s over, Roman. He’s finally paying what he owes us.” But Arthur was pressed against the glass, his eyes wide. Suddenly, a flash of silver caught the light inside the furnace. Arthur’s breath hitched. “The bracelet!” he screamed, pointing a shaking finger at the flames. “Becca, that’s the bracelet you gave Roman!” Becca turned white. “No, Dad, you’re seeing things.” But as the heat intensified, the flesh melted away. The silver chain fell to the floor of the kiln. The initials engraved on the inside—B.M.—were clearly visible for a split second before the heat warped them. Becca spun around to look at me, her eyes filled with a dawning, horrific realization.

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I fell completely in love with my best friend’s older brother. To make him love me back, I did a lot of incredibly stupid things. My best friend sighed and warned me: “Give it up. My brother is cold-blooded. He’s a complete jerk.” Even he told me straight to my face that we would never happen in this lifetime. Then, I got into a car accident. When I woke up, I had completely forgotten everything about chasing him for years. When he came to visit me in the hospital with my best friend, I smiled sweetly and called him “Brother.” Later, I brought my new boyfriend to his birthday party. That night, he cornered me, gripping my chin, glaring at me like a feral animal. “Stop calling me ‘Brother’.” 1 Harper still found it baffling that I had ever fallen for her brother. So, even after I woke up from the crash, she wouldn’t stop nagging me. “Since you have amnesia now, make the most of it. Don’t go falling for someone who isn’t worth your time.” She handed me a peeled apple. I took a bite. It was pretty crisp. Just then, the hospital room door opened, and a handsome face walked in wearing a white coat. It was my attending physician, Dr. Liam Sterling. His eyes narrowed slightly in a smile, bringing a comforting warmth, like a gentle spring breeze. He looked at me, beaming. “Looks like someone is ready to be discharged.” I had been stuck in this hospital for almost a month. My body felt numb from lying in bed so long. Hearing those words was like being handed a pardon. I let out a cheer just as the door was pushed open again. This time, the man who walked in was wearing a tailored black business suit. His features were sharp, his aura cold, aloof, and aristocratic. Every step of his leather shoes on the tile radiated unquestionable authority and pressure. Looking at him, a sudden spike of fear rose in my chest. I instinctively looked at Harper. Instead of greeting him happily, she sighed, stood up, and introduced him. “Carter, you’re here.” The apple slipped from my hand, rolling across the floor until it stopped right at his feet. I swallowed hard and offered an awkward smile. “Harper, you never mentioned your brother was this hot!” Harper covered her face with her hands, clearly mortified by my behavior. The man, hearing my comment, merely furrowed his brow slightly. Somehow, that made him look even more brooding and attractive. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. If only a brother this handsome was my actual brother. While I was busy lamenting internally, the handsome brother spoke up. “Ava, I heard you lost your memory. That’s probably for the best. I’ll treat you just like a little sister, same as Harper.” My eyes instantly lit up. “Thank you, Brother!” Harper dropped her hands, staring at me with a completely blank expression. And he just frowned even deeper. 2 Thanks to Harper’s extensive explanations, I finally learned just how pathetic and obsessive my pursuit of her brother had been. To put it simply, I had been an absolute, unapologetic simp. His name was Carter Hayes, and he was three years older than us. He was in the prime of his career, building his empire. One time, I went with Harper to his office building to find him, and it was love at first sight. Harper sighed, taking a bite of her cake with a tiny spoon. “Honestly, I really have no idea why you were so obsessed with him.” She trailed off, looking like she was holding something back, something too difficult to say out loud. I didn’t really care. She had already said this was all before the amnesia. Maybe my time chasing him was so agonizing that my brain took this accident as a perfect excuse to wipe the slate clean. And that was fine by me. I had forgotten him anyway. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll treat him exactly like a real older brother from now on.” Seeing her eyes, which looked exactly like Carter’s, I cautiously floated an idea. “Do you think… is it possible that the person I actually had a crush on was you?” Harper rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “I think you need another brain scan.” We joked around, and the topic was quickly brushed aside. But they say when your luck is bad, even drinking cold water will crack a tooth. Right after I swore to the heavens that I harbored absolutely zero romantic thoughts about her brother, Harper spotted him. He was sitting not too far away from us. Just two tables down. He was wearing a casual button-down shirt, the top two buttons undone, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. He was staring intently at us. There was a faint, unreadable smile playing in his eyes. I think I realized why I fell in love with him at first sight. Just sitting there, he had the power to make your heart hammer against your ribs. His entire vibe was a mix of effortless wealth and lazy arrogance. The sharp lines of his face were softened by a cool, untouchable detachment. But this time, my heart didn’t flutter. I was just terrified that what we had just been talking about might cause a misunderstanding. I didn’t know why, but right now, looking at him just made me want to run away. The lingering effects of the car crash were seriously no joke. 3 Harper instinctively stood up. She seemed to be genuinely intimidated by her brother. She walked over obediently, keeping her head down, and mumbled, “Hey, Carter.” Seeing her, I quickly tagged along. Hiding behind Harper, I offered a soft, timid greeting: “Hi, Carter.” “Oh? Why isn’t the little sis calling you ‘Carter-bear’ this time?” A guy sitting next to him laughed out loud. He grabbed his drink, took a huge gulp, looking like a total playboy. Harper instinctively threw her arm out, shielding me behind her. That subconscious, protective gesture sent a wave of warmth through my heart. Carter was apparently at a business dinner. Besides the guy who just spoke, the other people at the table were also looking at me with calculating expressions. “She probably realized playing the desperate stalker wasn’t working, so now she’s trying reverse psychology.” One of the women at the table chimed in with a smirk. Then, the woman next to her leaned in and whispered something in her ear. They exchanged a knowing, mocking smile. That kind of behavior was incredibly annoying. But I didn’t take it to heart. Let them talk. I couldn’t hear what they were whispering anyway. And even if they gossiped until the sky fell down, it wasn’t going to take a piece of flesh off me. Harper, on the other hand, was glaring daggers. Just as she opened her mouth to snap back, Carter cut her off. “Why are you here?” His eyes locked onto me, piercing right through me. He was asking me. Did he think we were stalking him and followed him here? I shivered involuntarily and spoke in a tiny voice. “We just read some good reviews online. We’ve never been to this restaurant before.” The implication being: running into him was a pure accident. Harper gathered her courage too. “Carter, you don’t need to be so tense. Ava really did forget all about you.” He let out a low chuckle, his gaze drifting upward, landing on the small square of gauze covering the wound on my forehead. He said cryptically: “Forgetting is a good thing.” I didn’t know if he meant forgetting him. Or forgetting that entire pathetic history of chasing him. But none of that had anything to do with me anymore. Loving him was in the past. Living my life was the present. Starting a new chapter was the future. I flashed a sickeningly sweet smile: “You’re absolutely right, Carter!” The smirk on Carter’s face vanished, settling into a dead, emotionless mask. His dark eyes practically radiated a freezing, biting chill. 4 After that day, I didn’t leave my apartment for almost half a month. When Harper came over to check on me, I was glued to my iPad, completely engrossed in a TV show. It was one of those wildly popular, super-sweet romance dramas. The chemistry between the male and female leads was perfect, and I was absolutely obsessed. The only downside was the agonizingly slow release schedule—only four episodes a week. “Your brain is going to rot watching this garbage.” Harper looked at me with absolute exasperation. “Are you just giving up on life because of what my brother said?” I lay on my stomach on the bed, staring at her with question marks floating around my head. The video was paused right at the exact moment the leads were staring into each other’s eyes, about to kiss. I lazily rolled over. “Giving up on life? What the hell are you talking about?” Harper lay down next to me and asked, “Are you sure it’s not because of my brother?” “You’re making zero sense.” This time, it was my turn to roll my eyes. I shoved the iPad toward her. “Look at this new show I just invested in.” Harper was confused. “Since when did you start investing in TV shows?” “I have no idea.” I scratched my head. “When I woke up in the hospital, the producers were already messaging me. It must have been something I set up before the crash.” Harper nodded. TV production cycles were long; my explanation made perfect sense. Soon enough, she was sucked into the plot, too. When I woke up from a nap, she was staring at me with massive dark circles under her eyes. My mouth twitched. “Don’t tell me you stayed up all night watching that.” She grabbed my arm and shook it aggressively. “Never mind that! Can you please, please take me to the wrap party?!” That was when I found out Harper had not only binge-watched the latest episodes but also gone online to hunt for spoilers and behind-the-scenes gossip. She had found out there was going to be a wrap party for the cast and crew next week. The production team had already sent me an invitation. Since she wouldn’t stop begging, I had no choice but to take her with me. On the night of the party, Harper dressed elegantly and beautifully. She wore a soft, butter-yellow flared dress, her hair styled in loose, glamorous waves cascading down her back. She was naturally gorgeous, and with a touch of light makeup, anyone who didn’t know better would have assumed she was the leading actress. “Tell me the truth. Do you have a crush on the male lead?” Harper slapped my accusing finger away, making a solemn vow. “I can completely separate the character from real life, thank you very much!” If she hadn’t practically sprinted toward him the second we walked in, I might have actually believed her bullshit. But given her net worth, falling for a celebrity wouldn’t be a huge issue anyway. I grabbed a glass of champagne and mingled through the crowd. The instinct for high-society networking was practically baked into my bones; even amnesia couldn’t erase it. But I finally understood why my brain had completely blocked out the memory of investing in this show. Because I spotted the primary, massive financial backer of the series. It was Carter Hayes. I guess the old me saw him investing and threw money at the project just to have an excuse to be close to him. After all, according to Harper… Before the crash, I had the ultimate, terminal case of ‘love-on-the-brain’. His eyes found me through the crowded room. He offered a distant, knowing smirk. He looked so smug and self-assured, as if he was saying: See? I knew you were faking the amnesia. 5 A wave of panic hit me, and I instinctively turned to walk away. I didn’t expect to crash directly into someone. “Careful.” Hearing that familiar, warm tone, I couldn’t help but look up. “Dr. Sterling?” He smiled. “What a coincidence. Are you involved with this production, Ava?” I shook my head. “No, I just invested in it.” Liam’s smile froze for a fraction of a second. “Ava, you certainly throw your money around.” His reaction made me laugh. The little interruption eased my tense nerves significantly. It turned out that because the female lead in the show was a doctor, they needed a professional medical consultant on set. Liam’s grandfather was a highly respected figure in the medical field. But since his grandfather couldn’t make it, he sent Liam in his place. That was how I learned that this seemingly ordinary, unassuming man actually came from a prestigious medical dynasty. The very hospital where I had stayed was owned by his family. “I didn’t realize Dr. Sterling was hiding his light under a bushel.” I raised my glass to toast him. Liam chuckled awkwardly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” His long, elegant fingers held the crystal flute, the golden liquid swaying inside. The chandelier light hit the glass, making it sparkle. His hands were incredibly slender and refined. I don’t know if it was the alcohol going to my head, but I blurted out, “Dr. Sterling, has anyone ever told you that you have really nice hands?” Liam paused for a second, completely unfazed. Instead, he stepped a fraction closer. “Is it just my hands that are nice, or is it everything else too?” He was standing quite close. His eyes were locked onto mine. A strange, inexplicable feeling started to bloom in the pit of my stomach. My breath hitched for a second. Just as I was about to speak, someone clamped a hand around my wrist and forcefully dragged me out of Liam’s personal space. I looked up and saw Carter’s tightly clenched jaw. His eyes were lowered, his voice rough and gravelly. “This is a public event. Show some restraint.”

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In the morning, Arthur and I finalized our divorce. By the afternoon, he had taken our daughter and boarded a flight back to New York. Staring at the divorce decree in my hands, I realized this piece of paper was the sum total of our five-year marriage. I sold my house in Seattle and quit my job. With that, my last remaining ties to Seattle were severed. On the Amtrak train heading back to my hometown, I received a call from my daughter. She asked why I hadn’t gone with them to New York. I smiled and replied calmly, “Didn’t you cry and scream that you didn’t want me to be your mommy anymore?” “Don’t worry, you’ll have a new mommy very soon.” 01 When I arrived at my hometown, I saw my grandmother standing by the front door, leaning on her cane, looking out for me. Beside her was a cute little girl, staring at me with wide, curious eyes. In the past, whenever I saw a child, I would happily go over and give them a hug. But now… I didn’t like kids anymore. My grandmother told me she was the granddaughter of our neighbor, Mrs. Higgins. The girl’s parents had died in a tragic accident, leaving her as their only child, so she had been sent to live in the country with her grandmother. I nodded, a spark of sympathy igniting in my chest, but I still couldn’t bring myself to like children. The little girl looked at me with her big, round eyes and said, “Auntie, you’re so pretty.” I forced a tight smile, didn’t reply, and helped my grandmother back into the house. A little while later, Mrs. Higgins came over and took the girl home. In the middle of the night, the blaring sirens of an ambulance woke us up. I opened the door and saw Mrs. Higgins being loaded onto a stretcher. The little girl stood behind them, her face covered in snot and tears. Later, the police took the little girl away. Two days later, my grandmother told me with a heavy sigh that Mrs. Higgins had suffered a massive heart attack and hadn’t made it. I suddenly thought of that poor child, feeling a deep pang of sorrow. I asked my grandmother, “What about the little girl? Does she have any other relatives besides Mrs. Higgins?” My grandmother thought for a moment and told me she seemed to have an uncle in the next county over. I felt a sense of relief. At least the little girl would have a place to stay. The next morning, I opened the front door and found the little girl sitting on our neighbor’s porch, shivering violently. It was obvious. The uncle didn’t want to take her in and had sent her right back. My grandmother looked at my face and told me she wanted to adopt the girl. I didn’t say a word. I just took the little girl’s hand and marched straight to the police station to figure out her situation. In the end, I filled out the adoption paperwork. From that day on, a girl named Luna was officially part of our family. 02 After a month of chaotic adjustments, I finally settled down in my hometown. Luna used to be a very cheerful girl, but losing her family members one after another had taken a heavy toll on her. She went from a girl who loved to laugh to someone who was quiet and rigidly serious. Even though she was so young, she acted incredibly mature for her age. She learned to read my moods, helped me with chores, and even followed my grandmother into the vegetable garden to help carry her basket. Every time I saw how incredibly well-behaved Luna was, I couldn’t help but think of my own child, far away in New York. The little princess the Sterling family held in the palm of their hands: Chloe Sterling. If Chloe wanted to eat fresh steak, someone would probably buy her a whole ranch. If Chloe wanted to go swimming, someone would gift her a luxury resort. Luna often woke up crying in the middle of the night, asking if I was going to abandon her too. I would hold her tightly, stroke her hair, and answer, “No. Mommy wants to live a happy life, and I don’t want to make the people around me sad.” “So, Luna, Mommy is going to make sure you’re always happy. Do you believe Mommy?” She stayed silent for a long time, then hugged me fiercely. “Mommy, Luna will stay with you forever. Luna wants to make Mommy happy, too.” Time slipped away, little by little. Luna grew up day by day. When she turned seven, Luna started elementary school. For years, I picked her up and dropped her off every single day, rain or shine. I held Luna’s hand as we walked home. She was always very quiet on the way. Sometimes, when she saw other little girls throwing tantrums at their parents, Luna would just glance at them and tell me that people need to stay calm. I couldn’t help but laugh. Luna was becoming more and more mature every day. Just as we walked into our front yard, a little girl in a frilly tutu came sprinting toward me. “Mommy!” I took a step back, and Luna caught the little girl, who almost tripped. “Little girl, you have the wrong person.” I looked up at the man sitting across from my grandmother. “Sir, I think you have the wrong house.” Chloe instantly burst into loud, hysterical tears. I looked at my grandmother, who sighed helplessly and pulled Luna inside the house. The year I returned to my hometown, I told my grandmother I would never contact the Sterling family again. My grandmother knew my past and didn’t ask any questions. Later, after we adopted Luna, my grandmother rarely ever thought about the great-granddaughter with the nasty temper. Arthur walked over to me and stared, completely silent. I stepped to the side, leaving the path to the door open, silently telling them to leave. Chloe, seeing Luna go inside, wiped her tears and hugged my leg. “Mommy, I missed you so much! Please come back to New York with us!” I smiled gently, patted her head, took her hand, and led her outside the gate. I turned to Arthur. “Mr. Sterling. Let’s talk outside.” 03 Looking at Arthur’s familiar face, memories of our past flooded back. Everything from before felt like a story out of a cheesy novel—interesting but ultimately meaningless. My grandfather and Arthur’s grandfather had been in the military together when they were young. The story goes that my grandfather was honorably discharged early because he took a bullet saving Arthur’s grandfather’s life. Because of that, before my grandfather passed away, our families were incredibly close. The year I graduated from college, rumor had it that Arthur had beaten up the son of a prominent family in New York. The Sterling family, afraid of retaliation, sent Arthur to Seattle to lay low for a while. That day, I got a call from my grandfather asking me to pick someone up from the airport. As a recent grad, I had been running around all day doing interviews and was completely exhausted. Without even having time to wash up, I quickly gathered my things and rushed to the airport. When I arrived, Arthur had already been waiting at the entrance for a long time, looking incredibly impatient. He was sitting on his suitcase, casually scrolling through his phone, smiling one second and frowning the next. The moment I saw him, all my exhaustion from the day vanished. A boy shining as brightly as the summer sun is the easiest thing in the world to fall for. For me, a secret crush was just a pursuit—trying to get closer and closer to him, knowing I might never reach the finish line. I knew the gap between our families was like an uncrossable chasm, but I couldn’t stop my heart from racing. After Arthur spent half a month with my grandparents in the country, he got incredibly bored. Not long after, my grandfather called to tell me Arthur was moving to the city and asked me to help him find an apartment. I knew my grandparents were getting older and their lifestyle was completely different from Arthur’s. But I was so swamped with work that I completely forgot about it until I found Arthur standing outside my apartment door. Arthur didn’t complain. Once he found out I lived alone, he casually dragged his suitcase in and moved into my rented apartment. During the time we lived together, I learned that he had a childhood sweetheart back home. The whole reason he was exiled to Seattle was because his sweetheart had been harassed by a drunk friend of that prominent family. Furious, Arthur beat the guy up, but the other family had deep connections. Left with no choice, the Sterling family sent him to Seattle while they used their connections to smooth things over and beg for peace. Their childhood romance was the kind that made people envious. And as a bystander, I constantly heard about their passionate love, their cold wars, and their explosive arguments. During the three months Arthur lived in Seattle, he left traces of his existence all over my apartment. One night, knowing Arthur had gotten into another massive fight with his sweetheart, I assumed he had gone to bed early. When I opened the door, I found Arthur passed out on the floor. I quickly helped him onto the sofa and went to the kitchen to get him some water. In his drunken haze, Arthur pulled me into his arms and demanded to know why I had brought him home. In the chaos, I still don’t know exactly how the mistake happened. 04 I still remember the look in his eyes when he woke up. Cold, even ruthless. As if I was the one who had wronged him. Even though I had dated before, this was my first time doing something like this. That day, under his freezing glare, I ignored the soreness in my body and fled the apartment. That night, the name he kept calling out was hers. It was so passionate and lingering. Even during the years we were married, he never called my name like that. It truly was: The falling flowers yearn for the flowing stream, but the unfeeling stream cares not for the flowers. 05 There was a massive oak tree outside my grandmother’s house. In the summer, people would gather under its shade to cool off. But now it was late autumn. Aside from the falling leaves, there was only a chilling silence in the air. Arthur and I stood under the tree, the withered landscape stretching out behind us. “What do you want to say?” Arthur stared straight at me. “Have you forgotten the terms of our divorce agreement?” “What do you mean?” “Our marriage ended four years ago.” “Over the years, I’ve followed the agreement to the letter. I’ve never once tried to contact you.” “And based on Chloe’s reaction, someone in your family has been talking about me a lot.” “She was only three when we separated. There’s no way she would recognize me instantly like this.” Arthur took a step forward, turning to look at Chloe, who was playing nearby. “My grandfather constantly reminds her about you and shows her your pictures.” “If that’s the case, why did you show up at my house?” Arthur offered a faint smile. “We went to the house in the city and found out you sold it.” “So I brought her here to your hometown to find you.” I closed my eyes briefly and said, “You know you aren’t welcome here.” “I’ll let it slide this time, but take her and leave. Now.” I was a strict mother, but Chloe had been spoiled rotten by the Sterling family for years. If we spent any real time together, she would only hate me more. It was better for her to leave now. Arthur didn’t say anything. He just took Chloe’s hand and left. I thought that was the end of it. Two days later, Luna told me that Chloe had transferred to her school and was even in her class. When I heard that, I sat on my porch and thought for an entire afternoon. It didn’t matter. I had to keep living my life. I couldn’t let the two of them disrupt my peace. 06 My hometown wasn’t highly developed, but for people who had lived in the city their whole lives, it was like a hidden paradise. During my marriage, I had put my career on hold to be a full-time housewife. But now, I wanted to use my own two hands to build a better future. So, in my hometown, I opened a bed and breakfast, a restaurant, and a cozy little lounge. As more and more people visited the town, my businesses thrived. Influencers frequently came to my places to check in and post photos. Since Arthur hadn’t officially told me about the school transfer, I pretended I didn’t know. Then one day, Chloe was dropped off at my B&B by a chauffeur. The driver told me Arthur was away on a business trip for a few days. Unlike last time, Chloe didn’t throw a tantrum or try to drag me away. She just sat quietly on a stool and did her homework. With my tacit approval, the driver started dropping Chloe off every single day. Chloe looked exactly like me, but her temper and personality were entirely Arthur’s. When she was little, she would only sleep if I held her. Even eating and drinking required me to feed her personally; she wouldn’t touch food from anyone else. Looking at her chubby little face and hearing her sweet voice call me “Mommy”… I felt like all the suffering I had endured was completely worth it. But the moment she realized she didn’t have to depend on me… She learned how to lie. She learned how to throw tantrums at me. She even told me right to my face that she preferred “Auntie Evelyn,” who was always dressed in glamorous, expensive clothes. After Evelyn filled her head with stories of New York’s wealth and splendor… Chloe had angrily demanded: “Mommy, why are you keeping me and Daddy in this poor, ugly place?! I want Auntie Evelyn to take me to New York!” “I don’t like a mommy who just stays at home all day! I want Auntie Evelyn to take me out to play every day!”

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I knew my husband, Ryan Prescott, faked his death and took on his twin brother’s identity, but I never exposed him. Instead, I went to the military commander, informed him of my husband’s supposed demise, and requested his military discharge. In my previous life, my brother-in-law died unexpectedly, and my husband resolutely abandoned his position as a Battalion Commander to impersonate his twin, all to prevent his sister-in-law from becoming a widow. I recognized him as Ryan, and confronted him about why he was impersonating his younger brother. Ryan, however, denied it adamantly, coldly pushing me away. “Eleanor, I know you’re devastated that my brother is gone, but you can’t mistake me for him just because he’s dead!” He shielded his delicate sister-in-law, pushed me into an icy river, and warned me against delusional thoughts. My five-year-old daughter cried, asking why her daddy didn’t want her, and was locked in a cowshed to reflect, starving for three days and nights. My mother-in-law cursed me as a jinx who brought death to her husband, throwing my daughter and me out of the house penniless. Ryan even spread rumors that I had gone mad, coveting my brother-in-law immediately after my husband’s death. I was scorned and despised by everyone, clinging to my daughter, numbly dying in the bitter cold of winter. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband began impersonating his brother. …

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After my lifelong rival lost his memory in an accident, I convinced him I was his girlfriend. He fell for it completely, handing over his bank accounts and letting me spend his money however I pleased. So, I spent my days blowing through his cash, and my nights secretly downloading confidential data from his corporate laptop. Just as I was preparing to take his innocence and flee the country, leaving him completely ruined, a string of text suddenly appeared floating in mid-air: [Little does she know, the big bad villain has been waiting for this exact moment for ages.] [He’s been faking his amnesia this whole time just so he can finally sleep with her!] [Oh my god, the tension! He’s literally burning up inside! Just do it already!] My hand, holding the glass of milk I had just spiked with sedatives, trembled violently. Should I still give it to him? 1 While I was agonizing over my next move, Elias Vance suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind. His deep, magnetic voice brushed against my ear: “Baby, what are you thinking about?” Before I could even respond, Elias noticed the milk in my hand. He smoothly took it from me and downed it in one gulp. It happened so fast I didn’t even have a chance to stop him. Crap. For the past few months, under the guise of being a doting, caring girlfriend worried about his stressful job, I had been making him a glass of hot milk every night before bed. A glass of milk laced with a mild sedative. Once Elias was deeply asleep, I had free rein to access his laptop and steal highly classified corporate secrets. Elias was completely oblivious, genuinely believing I was just being sweet. It became a habit. Every night, he drank the milk I “lovingly” prepared for him. That was my plan for tonight, too. I wanted him to drink the spiked milk without suspecting a thing. I had everything perfectly planned. Elias was famously disciplined. Even after I manipulated him into moving in with me, he absolutely refused to cross any physical boundaries before marriage. For a man that rigid, losing his innocence to me—especially when he eventually regained his memory—would be a fate worse than death. But right as I was about to execute the final phase of my revenge, those bizarre floating comments appeared. I had no idea if the comments were telling the truth. While I was hesitating, Elias went ahead and drank the milk anyway. [LMAO, she probably has no idea the villain knows she’s been drugging his milk this whole time.] [He drank it on purpose.] [This guy plays the perfect gentleman during the day, insisting on sleeping in separate rooms, but at night he’s literally taking cold showers to keep from losing his mind.] I was still highly skeptical of the floating text. I decided to test the waters and see if Elias’s amnesia was real or fake. I intentionally dropped a bomb: “Elias, let’s break up.” 2 Instantly, Elias’s calm, relaxed expression vanished. He grabbed my hand tightly, as if terrified I was going to vanish into thin air. His tone was incredibly desperate and submissive. “Baby, are you upset because I haven’t been spending enough time with you lately?” “If there’s something you don’t like, I’ll change it, okay? Please, don’t break up with me.” Before his amnesia, Elias was notoriously cold and unapproachable. He showed zero interest in women and displayed the emotional range of a glacier. Even if I stood right in front of him and cursed him out, he wouldn’t even bat an eye. He would never act like this. It seemed like his amnesia was genuine. The comments were clearly lying. But the next second, new text popped up. [Tsk, tsk. Don’t let his pathetic act fool you. If she actually tries to run, he wouldn’t hesitate to handcuff her to the bed.] [Hehehe, considering how many cold showers he takes, if he finally gets his hands on her, she probably won’t be able to walk for three days.] [She has no idea he secretly had custom chains made just for her.] [I live for this dark, obsessive romance trope! Yes!] I instinctively took a step back, and by pure coincidence, caught a fleeting, dark, predatory gleam in Elias’s eyes. He took a step forward, backing me into a corner. Only then did I realize how incredibly tall and physically imposing he was. The physical proximity was suffocating. I was trapped against the wall. I had put a heavy dose in that milk. It worked fast. Within minutes, the corners of Elias’s sharp eyes flushed a deep, feverish red. He looked incredibly, dangerously alluring. Even though I despised him, I had to admit, he was exactly my physical type. He leaned in, his hot, heavy breath brushing against my neck. His large, slightly calloused hand gently guided mine down toward the hem of his shirt. He was making me touch his abs. The very same abs he used to violently forbid me from going near. The texture was incredible. Hard as a rock. His voice was hoarse as he coaxed me: “Baby, please don’t break up with me.” “You can touch me wherever you want.” [Look at those abs! Elias is so…] [This is making me sweat! Just do it already!] [I am begging you, please sleep together right now!] 3 This version of Elias was honestly significantly more endearing than the old one. At the very least, I had never seen him look this desperate and vulnerable before. For a moment, I completely forgot about the comments claiming he was faking his amnesia, and just internally celebrated my victory. Even if he was faking, I had still forced Elias Vance to bow down to me. My lifelong dream had finally been realized. But then I remembered the part about him meticulously plotting all of this while pretending to have amnesia. He was far too calculating. I needed to quit while I was ahead. So, I gently coaxed him into letting go of me, and then bolted for the study door. Just as I grabbed the doorknob, the comments returned. [Sigh. As much as I want them to hook up right now, the plot has to move forward.] [Poor thing doesn’t know that the second she walks out that door, she’s going to get hit by a speeding semi-truck and die, which triggers the villain’s ultimate descent into madness.] My hand froze on the doorknob. I slowly turned around and looked at Elias’s broad shoulders and narrow waist, partially obscured by the shadows of the room. He seemed to be violently suppressing something. The memory of those rock-hard abs flashed in my mind. You know what? Maybe I should just ruin his innocence right now. 4 I didn’t know if the comments were telling the truth, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I had worked my ass off to steal his corporate secrets; I hadn’t even had the chance to use them yet. I wasn’t about to die now. I decisively walked back to Elias. Under his utterly shocked gaze, I reached up and kissed him. I never expected Elias, who always acted so cold and untouchable, to have such incredibly soft lips. His eyes glazed over as I aggressively tugged at his collar, messing up his perfect shirt. The sharp, defined lines of his muscles shifted with his ragged breathing. He looked absolutely stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe it was happening. His voice trembled as he asked: “Chloe, why did you come back?” I was instantly furious that he used my real name. It reminded me of the very first time I lost to him academically. I was so angry, I pointed a finger at him and yelled, “Elias Vance, just you wait!” “I, Chloe Sterling, will beat you one day, and you’re going to admit defeat!” That was the very first time Elias ever actually looked at me. He smiled. Even though his face was usually a mask of ice, his smile was devastatingly handsome. I was momentarily dazed, and when I snapped out of it, he delivered the most infuriating line ever: “So your name is Chloe Sterling.” I was so incredibly insulted. I had considered him my ultimate rival. I studied until I bled, desperately trying to beat his test scores, and he didn’t even know my name?! From that day on, I officially declared him my mortal enemy. Whenever he was near me, whenever he spoke, I made sure to aggressively insult him. This went on for so long that one day, he rubbed his temples and asked me, sounding incredibly exhausted: “Chloe, do you really hate me that much?” Why is he calling me by my first name? Are we friends?! I just got even angrier. So, when he got amnesia and I tricked him into thinking I was his girlfriend, I strictly forbade him from using my name. He was only allowed to call me “Baby.” Because whenever he used my name, I got so mad I couldn’t even stay in character. I was just about to bite him and demand he stop using my name when… A massive wave of comments flooded my vision. [Why did she go back???] [This isn’t how the plot goes! Did the author rewrite the chapter?!] [Whatever, I’ll read anything at this point. But it would be even better if they actually slept together.] [Yes, write it, write it! Feed us!] [If the dark, villain-era Elias knew she didn’t actually die, he’d probably cry his eyes out.] Amidst the chaotic, thirsty comments, I finally spotted one that actually made sense. I don’t know if I was imagining things, but I swore I saw a flash of moisture in Elias’s eyes.

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I was Julian’s child bride, raised by his family. On our wedding day, he died in a tragic accident, falling into the ocean. While I was drowning in grief, my parents-in-law suggested I marry his younger brother instead. I was just about to refuse when a string of comments suddenly appeared in mid-air right in front of me: [Ugh, the evil supporting female character is so annoying, constantly clinging to the male lead. Thank God he faked his death to escape the wedding.] [Does she really think that just because her dad died saving the male lead’s parents, she can use that guilt to force him to marry her? She deserves to be a widow for the rest of her life!] I stared blankly for a long time before wiping away my tears. “Okay. I’ll marry him.” 1 My husband, Julian Sterling. Died by falling into the ocean on our wedding day. The search and rescue teams scoured the waters for twenty-four hours. They never found a body. They only recovered the car he had been driving. After Julian’s funeral. My mother-in-law held my hand, her eyes red from crying. She said she couldn’t bear to see me become a widow at such a young age, and she couldn’t bear to lose me as a daughter-in-law. She gently urged me to marry her younger son, Liam. I froze, and was just opening my mouth to decline. When a string of floating text suddenly materialized in front of my eyes. [The evil supporting female character is so annoying, constantly clinging to the male lead. Thank God he faked his death to escape the wedding.] I paused. Male lead? Who were they talking about? [She’s literally the daughter of a chauffeur and a maid. How is she worthy of the male lead? Does she really think that just because her dad died saving the male lead’s parents, she can use that guilt to force him to marry her? She deserves to be a widow for the rest of her life!] That’s when I finally understood. The “male lead” these people were talking about was Julian. And the “evil supporting female character”… was me. 2 I was originally the daughter of the Sterling family’s chauffeur and housekeeper. Twenty years ago, my parents-in-law were targeted by hitmen. My parents sacrificed their own lives to ensure they escaped safely. At only three years old, I became an orphan with no one in the world. Out of profound gratitude, my parents-in-law betrothed me to their son, Julian, who was the same age as me. They promised they would never let me suffer a single hardship for the rest of my life. Over the years, Julian and I grew up together. We went to the same schools, got into the same university, and I yielded to his every whim. I did it all just to give peace of mind to the parents-in-law who doted on me. I never expected that Julian would rather fake his own death than marry me. I looked at my parents-in-law. They had lost so much weight and aged visibly from the grief of losing Julian. A surge of fierce anger ignited in my chest. If he didn’t want to marry me, he could have just said so! Why go to the extreme of faking his death and causing them so much agonizing heartbreak?! Beside me, my mother-in-law was still trying to persuade me: “Liam is only three years younger than you. He’s twenty now, the perfect age to get married.” [Tsk, stop trying to convince her. The evil supporting female character would never marry Liam. She’s obsessively in love with Julian and only wants to play the tragic, devoted widow for him.] [Six months from now, the male lead is going to return with the pregnant female lead. They think his garbage parents will finally stop pressuring him, but they refuse to let the female lead into the house! They demand the male lead take responsibility for the evil supporting female character instead! The evil female character tortures the female lead, and the garbage parents and Liam help her do it.] [Don’t get mad, guys! The evil female character eventually gets what’s coming to her and dies. Liam dies trying to protect her, and the garbage parents drop dead from the shock. Our male and female leads will have the last laugh!] [And don’t even feel bad for those relatives! Spoiler alert: the male lead was switched at birth! His biological parents treat him amazingly later on. Unlike this fake family that only sides with outsiders!] Watching the comments scroll by, my hands slowly clenched into tight fists. Julian wasn’t even their biological son?! Thinking about my incredibly kind, loving parents-in-law and the sweet, obedient Liam meeting such horrific ends filled me with absolute fury. 3 I looked directly at my mother-in-law and gave a firm, decisive nod. “Mom, I agree.” [Is the evil supporting female character having a psychotic break? Did she find out the male lead is still alive and intentionally marry his brother to make him jealous?] [Pfft, dream on. The male lead only has the female lead in his heart. She could stay a virgin widow for him her entire life and he still wouldn’t spare her a single glance.] Stay a virgin widow for Julian? In his dreams! Since he wanted to marry someone else… I’d gladly grant his wish. But. As long as I drew breath. I would absolutely never let my parents-in-law or Liam suffer the fate those comments described. My mother-in-law froze in shock, then her eyes welled up with red. She grabbed my hand tightly. “Oh, my sweet girl.” Julian and I had held a wedding ceremony, but we hadn’t legally registered the marriage. We weren’t a legally recognized couple. So, acting quickly under my parents-in-law’s direction. Liam and I went to the courthouse, got our marriage license, and became legally wed. However, since the eldest son of the Sterling family had just “passed away.” The house was still shrouded in deep mourning. We didn’t hold a second wedding ceremony. 4 Exactly as the floating text predicted, six months later. Julian returned, bringing the pregnant female lead with him. My parents-in-law and Liam weren’t home. When the butler escorted them inside, I was the only one in the grand living room, quietly eating lunch. The moment Julian walked in and saw me, his brow furrowed in deep disgust. “Mia, why are you still squatting in my house?” I looked up at him. Julian was dressed in plain, cheap clothes, looking utterly exhausted and worn down. He was noticeably thinner than before. He had a tan and looked incredibly haggard. It seemed that without the Sterling family’s financial backing for the last six months, he had eaten quite a bit of dirt out in the real world. As for the female lead, Chloe. She was petite and slender, the textbook definition of a fragile, innocent white flower. Her stomach showed a slight bump, and she was currently cowering timidly against Julian’s chest. I elegantly dabbed my mouth with a napkin, watching them with a calm, amused expression, and didn’t say a word. [The male and female leads finally survived their hardships and made it back! Soon, the Sterling empire will belong to them, they’ll have a spectacular wedding, and become the happiest couple in the world!] [Why isn’t the evil supporting character saying anything? She must be so thrilled to see the male lead alive that her brain short-circuited, right?] Thrilled? I scoffed internally. Over the past six months… Liam and I had grown incredibly close. In the boardroom, we were a flawlessly synchronized team. At home, under the loving gaze of our parents, we retired to the same bedroom every night. What started as stiff and awkward had gradually become completely natural and comfortable. As for Julian, he no longer caused even the slightest ripple of emotion in my heart. Furthermore, I had already uncovered the truth about Julian’s actual lineage. When my mother-in-law gave birth to her first child, medical malpractice resulted in a stillbirth. Terrified of taking the blame, the delivering doctor panicked. Coincidentally, the doctor’s sister had gotten pregnant out of wedlock and delivered a baby boy on the exact same day, but couldn’t afford to raise him. Knowing the Sterling family was incredibly wealthy. The two sisters hatched a plan and swapped the babies, passing the sister’s son off as my mother-in-law’s child. My original plan was that if they never came back, I would keep this secret buried forever to spare my mother-in-law the heartbreak. But since they had the nerve to return, there was no way I was letting my in-laws continue to be deceived by these parasites! 5 Seeing me stand there in silence, Julian’s face twisted with impatience. “I asked you a question! Are you deaf?” “Let me make this crystal clear: I wouldn’t marry you then, and I won’t marry you now. Chloe is the only woman I will ever love. She is carrying the eldest grandson of the Sterling family! My parents value their bloodline above all else; they will never force me to marry you now! If you know what’s good for you, pack your bags and get out of my house!” The woman in his arms, Chloe, nestled against his chest like a fragile bird, speaking in a soft, whispery voice: “Julian, is this the woman who was obsessively stalking you and insisting she’d only ever marry you? Since your parents love her so much, will they refuse to let me marry you?” Julian patted her back comfortingly, his voice dripping with tenderness. “Chloe, you are the one I love. And now that you’re carrying my child, my parents will absolutely accept you. Don’t worry.” Chloe shot me a timid, fearful glance, as if terrified of me, and buried her face back into his chest. This only fueled Julian’s anger toward me. “What are you just standing there for?! You’re nothing but the daughter of our maid! If it weren’t for my parents, you’d be rotting on the streets! Hurry up and prepare a room for my Chloe, and welcome us properly!” I stared at Julian, the comments about my in-laws’ tragic fate flashing through my mind. A tidal wave of emotion surged within me. I wanted nothing more than to order security to throw this disgusting pair out into the street. But I couldn’t. Right now, my parents-in-law still didn’t know the truth about Julian’s bloodline. To them, their eldest son, whom they had raised and loved for twenty years, had just miraculously returned from the dead. They would be absolutely ecstatic. If I threw him out now. It would break their hearts. I stood up and calmly instructed the maids to prepare a room for Chloe and Julian. Chloe immediately teared up, looking deeply distressed. “Julian… she’s the lady of the house… I shouldn’t have come back with you…” Hearing this, Julian pulled Chloe tightly into his arms, looking at her with profound heartache. Then he shot me a freezing glare: “Who do you think you are, ordering the Sterling family staff around?! Get upstairs and clean Chloe’s room yourself! If you don’t serve her perfectly, I’ll have you thrown out of the Sterling estate!” 6 Right at that moment, my young husband, Liam, returned home from his university classes. As soon as he walked through the door, he heard Julian’s enraged shouting. Then, he saw Julian’s face. He froze completely. He clearly hadn’t expected him to still be alive. Quickly, a bright smile spread across his face. “Brother! You’re alive! Mom and Dad are going to be so incredibly happy!” Then, as if remembering something. His gaze shifted to me, his expression momentarily twisting with complex emotion and a hint of profound melancholy. Even though Liam and I had been married for six months, and we slept in the same room to ease our parents’ minds. We hadn’t consummated the marriage. Usually, I slept on the bed, and he slept on a mattress on the floor. Julian patted Liam’s shoulder and announced, “Liam, let me introduce you. This is your sister-in-law. She’s pregnant with my child.” Liam finally noticed Chloe huddled in Julian’s arms. His eyes widened in sheer shock. He looked at me again, opening his mouth but unable to find the words. Seeing Liam’s gaze, Julian shot me another look of pure disgust and explained with a scoff: “I have zero feelings for Mia, and I will never marry her. Now that I have a wife, she has no right to stay in my house. I’ll talk to Mom and Dad and have her pack her bags immediately. Don’t feel bad for her, Liam. Our family raised her for twenty years; we’ve more than repaid whatever debt we owed her.” Liam’s brow immediately furrowed in anger. He said sharply: “Brother, watch your mouth. Mia is a permanent member of the Sterling family. Absolutely no one has the right to tell her to leave!” Julian’s face instantly darkened with displeasure. [What kind of black magic did Mia use to brainwash Liam and the garbage parents?! They’d rather side with an outsider than the male lead!] [The male lead is the eldest son of the Sterling family! How dare Liam disrespect him for Mia?! He deserves his miserable death!] [Don’t be sad, guys! The male lead’s biological parents treat him like a king later! He doesn’t need this trash family or this trash brother! They only care about outsiders anyway!] Reading the floating comments, I let out a cold laugh in my head. Want to have your cake and eat it too, huh? Fine, you love your biological parents so much? I had already hired private investigators to track them down. Very soon, I’d reunite them for a beautiful, happy family reunion! 7 When my parents-in-law received the news that Julian was alive. They were overwhelmed with joy and immediately rushed home from the office. Julian and Chloe had already changed into expensive, luxurious designer clothes. They were sitting on the plush sofa, clinging to each other sickeningly. Liam and I sat on the opposite sofa, staring straight ahead, completely ignoring them. Chloe nervously twisted her fingers. “Julian, do you think your parents will hate me…?” Julian comforted her confidently. “My parents have always wanted a grandchild. Once they hear you’re carrying the Sterling family heir, they’ll love you unconditionally.” He then shot me an icy glare, letting out a dismissive scoff: “Don’t worry about her. She’s just a maid’s daughter. How could she possibly compete with the mother of the eldest Sterling grandson?” He turned his attention back to me. “I’m warning you, don’t even think about bullying Chloe. Otherwise, forget about me—even my parents won’t tolerate your existence in this house!” Chloe chimed in with her soft, breathy voice. “Julian, please. Her parents did serve your family for years. Even if they didn’t do anything spectacular, they worked hard…” Julian tilted his chin up, snorting coldly. “Her whole family is just a bunch of servants.” Liam’s face turned livid, and he opened his mouth to snap back. I grabbed his sleeve and shook my head gently. I had warned him earlier that no matter what garbage came out of Julian’s mouth today. He was to ignore it. He glared at me, aggressively yanking his sleeve out of my grip. He let out a cold huff and didn’t say anything else. But he aggressively turned his body away from me, radiating pure, unadulterated sulking energy. Living in the same room with Liam all this time. This was the very first time he had ever been genuinely mad at me. I actually found it quite novel, and honestly, kind of cute. As for Julian. He was just a pathetic clown with a fast-approaching expiration date. He wasn’t worth my energy. If our parents walked in and saw the brothers screaming at each other over me. It would only break their hearts. 8 Right on cue, the floating comments started scrolling rapidly across my vision again. [The evil female character obviously still can’t let go of the male lead. Even when he’s sitting there with another woman, she still instinctively protects him!] [She’s loved him for years, of course she doesn’t want Liam fighting with him! She’s only acting submissive now because the male lead is watching. The second he leaves, her jealousy will explode and she’ll start torturing the female lead!] Julian saw me hold Liam back, and a cold smirk crossed his face. He gave me a look that screamed, “I knew it.” He clearly shared the exact same delusions as those comments. I couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge him. Just then, the butler’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling have arrived.” My in-laws were home. I put on a bright smile and stood up to greet them. But Julian violently shoved past me, shooting me a look of pure mockery. “Right now, the only thing my parents want to see is me, and their eldest grandson.” With that, he grabbed Chloe’s hand and marched out to meet them. Chloe followed timidly behind him, but the triumphant, ecstatic gleam in her eyes was impossible to hide. Liam stood next to me, his face as dark as a thundercloud. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He looked ready to murder Julian. I grabbed his hand and gently shook my head at him. Our parents just got home. This isn’t the time to fight. Liam’s fury only intensified. He glared at me, clearly struggling to suppress his rage, and hissed: “He’s already replaced you with someone else, and you’re still protecting him?!” I opened my mouth, desperate to explain. But Liam had already stormed out of the room in a furious huff. I followed him out. I saw Julian shoot me a freezing look before leading Chloe directly up to my in-laws. “Mom, Dad. I’m home.” He immediately gestured to Chloe beside him, unable to wait another second: “This is Chloe. She’s carrying your grandchild.” “She is the only woman I will ever love. I am absolutely not marrying Mia.” “The only person who will ever be the lady of the Sterling house is Chloe.” Chloe offered them a picture-perfect, demure smile. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling.” 9 The next second. My parents-in-law completely froze. They stared blankly at Julian and Chloe. Then, their eyes darted behind them, landing on me and Liam. Finally, they looked at each other, exhaled a simultaneous, massive sigh of relief. And broke into identical, radiant smiles. “Good. It’s wonderful that you’re back.” My mother-in-law took Chloe’s hand. She slipped an incredibly rare, hundred-thousand-dollar jade bangle off her own wrist. And slid it onto Chloe’s, smiling with genuine maternal warmth. “Such a sweet girl.” They had been agonizing over how to break the news to Julian. The news that I was already married to Liam. But now that Julian had brought home his own woman. It was the perfect, miraculous solution for everyone. As they walked into the main living room. Chloe looked absolutely thrilled, shooting Julian a look of pure worship. I even heard Julian cast a disdainful glance in my direction before whispering to Chloe: “I told you not to worry. The eldest grandson of the Sterling empire is infinitely more valuable to them than the daughter of some maid!” Chloe nodded eagerly, then added with fake concern, “But your sister… she’s so deeply in love with you. Will she hate me?”

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After the “Best Actor” and I went public, his fans absolutely incinerated me. I couldn’t take the heat, so I decided to dump him. But then, while filming a high-profile dating reality show, he beat me to the punch. He started playing up a “perfect couple” narrative with the industry’s favorite sweetheart, a rising starlet named Brianna. The internet went wild for them. “Relationship goals,” they called it. “A match made in heaven.” Honestly? I was thrilled. I’d had my eye on the “puppy-dog” rookie contestant, Ryder, for a long time. This was my chance. But the moment I wrote down Ryder’s name for our first one-on-one date, the movie star himself—my supposed ex—snatched the slip of paper right out of my hand. In front of a dozen rolling cameras, his eyes turned a bruised, frantic red. “Dumping me wasn’t enough for you?” he hissed, his voice trembling with a raw, public fury. “Now you’re going to humiliate me by cheating on national television?” 1 My boyfriend—well, my complicated situation—was Nate Cross. Yes, that Nate Cross. Oscar winner, critics’ darling, and the man whose face sold a billion luxury watches. And me? I started out as a “chaos-energy” lifestyle streamer. I was the girl who went viral for doing high-fashion makeup tutorials while eating greasy ribs or reviewing prestige dramas while wearing a dinosaur onesie. I was “relatable” and “authentic,” which in Hollywood terms means “unpolished.” I stumbled into the industry when a talent scout saw me demolish a bucket of fried chicken at a roadside stand. He thought I had “the look.” Curiosity and a craving for something more than a webcam got the better of me, and suddenly, I was the lead in an indie darling. I was green, sure, but I had a face the camera loved. Overnight, I went from a girl in her bedroom to a rising starlet. But fame came with a price tag: the labels. “Eye candy.” “No talent.” “A fluke.” Then came the night that changed everything: a high-stakes fashion gala in Manhattan. That was the night I met Nate. In this industry, he was a god. A man whose silence on screen held more weight than most actors’ monologues. And in person? He was devastating. After the gala, the glamour evaporated. I was a low-priority guest. My manager had vanished into some after-party, and the car service the studio promised was nowhere to be found. I was huddled in a dark corner of the parking garage, shivering in my borrowed couture, trying to call an Uber. Then, a charcoal-gray Rolls Royce Spectre pulled up. The window glided down with a whisper, revealing Nate Cross. “No ride?” he asked. His voice was like expensive bourbon—smooth, dark, and slightly intoxicating. I nodded dumbly. “I’m fine. I’ll just… wait. Thank you, Mr. Cross.” He didn’t listen. He just gave a small, impatient flick of his hand. “Get in.” The interior of the car smelled of sandalwood and success. I sat as far from him as possible, staring at the leather stitching. The silence was thick, heavy with the kind of tension that makes your skin itch. “Why are you staring at the door?” he asked suddenly. “Do I look like a kidnapper?” I shook my head violently. “No, no! I just… you’re very handsome. Even more than on screen. It’s a bit distracting.” It wasn’t a lie. Up close, his features were sharp enough to draw blood. He leaned in, his shadow falling over me. I could feel the heat radiating off him. “I’ve spent my life studying people’s eyes, Cassie. Yours are telling me you’re lying.” I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You’re sharp, Mr. Cross. I’m just nervous. Ha-ha.” He leaned closer. His face was inches from mine, exquisite and terrifying. “I hate lies. Tell me the truth.” I felt like a kid caught whispering in the back of a classroom. My brain short-circuited. I closed my eyes and the words just tumbled out: “I was wondering if you were about to offer me a role in exchange for sex!” The silence that followed was deafening. I wanted to swallow my own tongue. Really, Cassie? The casting couch cliché? If he actually wanted to sleep with me, looking at the two of us, he was the one doing me a favor. The driver’s hands slipped on the steering wheel. Nate froze. The air in the car turned to ice. My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears, loud and frantic. Then, he laughed. It was a low, breathless sound of genuine disbelief. “Well,” he murmured, his eyes dancing with a strange light. “That sounds like the girl I’ve seen on Twitch. But tell me… if I was making that offer, would you take it?” Destiny is a funny thing. After that night, our paths crossed everywhere. Award shows, charity galas, table reads. It was messy, it was fast, and somehow, inexplicably, he became mine. 2 We went public after a paparazzo caught us holding hands outside a bistro in Greenwich Village. We figured, why not? Let’s just tell the world. I expected some backlash, but I wasn’t prepared for the execution. In the court of public opinion, the man is almost always forgiven. The woman? She’s the intruder. Nate remained the untouchable king; I became the social climber who’d bewitched him. The night of the announcement, my phone practically melted. “A literal YouTuber? She’s not even in his league.” “She’s using him for clout. Her acting is trash.” “Get out of his life before you ruin his career, you parasite.” Then, a new hashtag started trending: #NateAndBrianna. Nate and Brianna Wells. She was his co-star in his upcoming blockbuster. She was “Classy.” She was “Old Hollywood.” Someone had started buying bot accounts to flood the feeds with “leaked” behind-the-scenes clips of them looking cozy. Even I had to admit, the edits were beautiful. I shoved my phone under Nate’s nose one evening. “Your fans are talented. I’m almost rooting for you two myself.” I expected a joke, or at least a reassuring hug. Instead, Nate frowned, a flicker of cold annoyance crossing his face. He reached out and clicked the screen off. “Stop looking at that garbage,” he said. “You’re in the big leagues now, Cassie. You need to learn the difference between what’s real and what’s a PR stunt.” “And what’s real, Nate? Tell me.” “The noise will die down in a few days,” he said, turning back to his script. “I’ll have my team put out some counter-narratives. It’s just business.” Something in me snapped. I slammed the phone face-down on the mahogany table. The noise made him jump. “I shouldn’t have to be ‘business’ to you! I’ve been ripped apart for three days straight. I’m exhausted.” “Are you looking for a fight?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm. “I’m looking for an exit,” I spat. “I’m done, Nate. We’re over.” He closed his leather-bound script and looked at me with the cool, analytical gaze he used for his characters. “If you’re ending this because you can’t handle a little internet gossip, then you aren’t cut out for this industry. It’s a transaction, Cassie. You trade privacy for privilege. If you can’t balance the ledger, that’s on you.” His face was a masterpiece of emotion, but his words were cold, hard steel. I started to laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You’re so rational, aren’t you? So, using that brilliant logic of yours, you should know we’re a terrible match.” That hit a nerve. I saw his jaw tighten. It was true. We were two different species. He lived at the gym; I lived on my sofa. He studied Chekhov; I memorized TikTok trends. He was the gala; I was the after-party. I didn’t even know why he’d pursued me in the first place. Was I just a “wild” phase? A bit of “abstract” flavor to spice up his curated life? I couldn’t live like that. “We’re over,” I said, my voice steady for once. “Say anything else,” he said, “but don’t say that. You don’t understand how this works. I can explain—” “I don’t want a lecture! Get out!” He blinked, looking around the room. “Cassie… this is my house.” My face burned. The last shred of my dignity evaporated. I ended up sobbing as I scrambled out the door and into the night, looking like a total wreck. 3 “I mean, who does he think he is?” I wailed. Maddie, my manager, patted my shoulder and handed me a tissue. “Couples fight, honey. But Nate Cross? He’s famously difficult. You might have been a bit… impulsive.” I blew my nose with enough force to rattle the windows. “It’s not just the fight. He doesn’t love me. He treats me like a pet. A shiny little bird he can keep in a cage until he’s bored.” “Being Nate Cross’s pet bird pays pretty well, though,” Maddie muttered. I stared at her, horrified. “Not you too!” Maddie sighed, her expression softening. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Stop crying.” “I can’t even cry now? Is Hollywood a ‘no-sobbing’ zone?” “No,” Maddie said, leaning in. “But these tissues are five dollars a box at the studio, and you’re on box four.” When it rains, it pours. My life was a country song. I started sobbing even harder. Finally, Maddie pulled out her secret weapon. “Look, I brought you here for a reason. Look at this before you dehydrate yourself.” My eyes were swollen like golf balls. “What is it?” “It’s an offer for The Final Lover,” she said. “The new dating reality show everyone’s talking about. It’s huge. Every agency is trying to get their rookies on it. It’s your chance to pivot, Cassie. Show the world who you are away from Nate. Build your own brand.” The crying slowed to a hiccup. “Really? But I’m a mess. My mentions are a war zone.” Maddie sat next to me, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Why do you think they want you? You’re the hottest topic in the country right now! We’ll play it smart. We’ll lean into the drama, then give you a redemption arc. You’ll be fine.” I guess the industry really does squeeze every drop of blood out of you. “I’ve never done a reality show. Is there a script? What do I do?” Maddie smiled, the sharp, predatory grin of a woman who knows she’s won. “Now you’re talking. Of course there’s a ‘direction.’ We want you to pair up with Ryder Brooks.” “Ryder Brooks?” Suddenly, my back stopped aching, my headache vanished, and the Nate-shaped hole in my heart felt a little smaller. “The Ryder Brooks? The one who just won that talent competition? The one with the dimples?” Maddie eyed me suspiciously. “What are you planning?” I grabbed her hands, my eyes bright. “Maddie, I stayed up until 4:00 AM voting for that boy to win. I am a fan.” “I thought Nate was your idol?” “Nate is the past,” I said firmly. “I’m looking toward the future. And the future has great hair and a TikTok-famous smile.” Maddie laughed. “If you actually like him, this is even easier. The producers want a ‘rivals-to-lovers’ arc. You’ll start off bickering, then have a big romantic payoff. You’ll get some hate at first, but we’ll fix it in the edit.” She handed me a folder. “Here’s the breakdown. But listen, Cassie—this is the first show that’s going to be live-streamed 24/7. You have to be careful. No slips. Keep the ‘sparks’ flying, but don’t actually burn the house down.” She looked at me with a mix of affection and exhaustion. “Just think of it as a paid vacation. Eat some good food, look pretty, and try not to start a scandal.” I puffed out my chest. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” Maddie muttered under her breath, “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” 4 The filming took place at a sprawling estate in the Hudson Valley. By the time the city lights faded into the dark, misty woods of upstate New York, we had arrived. I peeked through the tinted windows of the SUV. The courtyard was lit with Edison bulbs. Long, white wooden tables were set with champagne and fruit. Three male contestants and two female contestants were already there, mingling under the watchful eye of several cameras. The producers had saved me for the “Grand Entrance.” They were all laughing in the evening breeze. One girl, in a white sundress, looked like a literal angel; the other was a “sporty-chic” girl with an effortless vibe. The guys were already circling them like sharks. The door opened. I stepped out, dragging my suitcase, and the world seemed to pause. Unlike the “angel” in white, I went for “femme fatale.” I was wearing a blood-red silk slip dress that hugged every curve. I looked like a rose in a field of daisies—loud, sharp, and impossible to ignore. I could feel the shift in the air. The “wow” factor was real. I walked toward the group, my heels clicking against the stone path, keeping a steady, rhythmic beat. The men’s eyes drifted away from the other girls, landing on me with a mix of curiosity and naked admiration. I gave them my best “streamer” smile—bright, bold, and just a little bit dangerous. “Hey everyone! Sorry I’m late. Did I miss the good snacks?” I flicked my hair over my shoulder, leaning into the character. The live-stream chat was probably exploding right now. Half of them wanting to be me, the other half wanting to bury me. One of the guys snapped out of his trance and handed me a glass of sparkling cider. “I’m Marcus. You look like you had a long trip. Drink up.” I thanked him sweetly, my eyes scanning the group. And there he was. Ryder Brooks. He was even better-looking in person. He had that “boy next door” charm that made you want to tell him your secrets. Another guy stepped forward to take my bag. “I’m Silas. But you can call me Sy. And you are?” “Cassie,” I said. “But my friends call me Cass.” The introductions went around. The “angel” was Sierra, and the sporty girl was Maya. Ryder was the only one who seemed a bit reserved. I remembered the “rivals” script—I was supposed to start off on the wrong foot with him. I sighed internally. Being mean to that face was going to be hard work. Just as I was about to head inside to drop off my bags, the sound of a heavy engine echoed through the courtyard. A black SUV—the kind used by Secret Service or A-listers—rolled to a stop. The cameras pivoted instantly. I felt a chill crawl up my spine. This wasn’t in the briefing. The door opened. A pair of long, expensive-looking legs stepped out, followed by a face that had haunted my dreams for months. Nate Cross. But he wasn’t alone. Following him was Brianna Wells. She was in a soft pink off-the-shoulder dress, looking like a dream. She hopped out and immediately caught Nate’s arm, throwing him a look so sweet it could cause cavities. The temperature in my blood dropped to zero. The other contestants started whispering, the tension thick enough to choke on. I felt like the world was shrinking, the cameras closing in on my face to catch the exact moment my heart hit the floor. I forced my features into a mask of bored indifference. Nate and Brianna walked toward us. Brianna addressed the group with a practiced, radiant smile. “Sorry for the surprise, everyone! The producers asked us to join you as ‘Relationship Mentors.’ We’re here to give you some guidance and hopefully help you find what we’ve found.” Nate’s eyes swept over the group. He didn’t linger on me. He looked at me as if I were a piece of furniture he was thinking about replacing. “I hope you all find what you’re looking for,” he said, his voice cold and professional. The group erupted into applause. The producers had hit the jackpot. Tomorrow’s headlines were already written. It was going to be a massacre.

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I’d spent years writing this particular brand of heartbreak. I knew the tropes, the beats, the inevitable gut-punch of the third act. But I never expected to wake up inside the script, trapped in the silk sheets of the woman meant to lose it all. I was the “Gold Standard”—the girl he could never let go of. The one whose memory was so bright it cast a shadow over everyone else. In the industry, they call it the White Moonlight trope. In reality, it just meant I was the villainess waiting for my downfall. But as I looked across the room at the man who was now, legally and terrifyingly, my husband, my resolve wavered. Kael was… a masterpiece. He had the kind of ethereal, sharp-boned beauty that belonged on a vintage movie poster. And right now, we were alone. On our wedding night. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. Even knowing the plot, my pulse was a frantic mess. I offered a strained, awkward smile and tried to inch toward the edge of the mattress, away from him. Kael looked at me with a gaze that was devastatingly soft. It was seventy percent tenderness, thirty percent indulgence, and a sliver of that “What am I going to do with you?” charm that made women melt. I had to remind myself: He doesn’t love you. 1. He loved Daisy, the girl he’d grown up with. He’d only married me to play a part, to trap me in a gilded cage so I’d stop trying to sabotage the “real” couple. It was a selfless, twisted logic—and since I was the one who wrote this godforsaken story, I knew exactly how crazy it was. Enjoy it while it lasts, I told myself. This is the kind of man you only get to touch in a fever dream. Kael leaned in, his voice a low, magnetic hum. “Why are you looking at me with those doe eyes, Jade? You look like you’re waiting for a blow to fall.” I lunged forward, pressing my palm against his mouth. “Don’t,” I hissed. “The dialogue is cringe. Just… don’t.” I’d written those lines years ago in a coffee-fueled haze. Hearing them out loud was a special kind of penance. But the “doe eyes” were the core of the whole “Substitute Lover” plot. Daisy, the lead, had those same eyes. That’s why she was my body double on set, and why the male lead used her to fill the void I left behind. Kael gently pulled my hand away from his lips. His expression was so profoundly sincere it made my chest ache. If I didn’t give in now, I was officially the world’s biggest idiot. Maybe I could just let it happen… 2. No. Absolutely not. Before I could get lost in the scent of his cologne, I scrambled back, my heart hammering. “Kael, listen. You don’t have to do this. We’re alone. There’s no audience. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself on the altar of a fake marriage.” He let out a soft, frustrated laugh. “Jade, calm down. I’m not trying to jump you. I just wanted to help you with the compress for your leg. You were standing all day at the reception. The scar must be killing you.” I shook my head violently, waving him off. “I’m fine. Really. Totally fine.” “We’re married, Jade. Why are you suddenly so shy?” My brain kicked into overdrive. “The scar is ugly. It’s… it’s gross. I’ll just wait for the nurse to come by in the morning.” “It’s late. She’s already gone home.” Kael wrung out a hot towel, his movements slow and deliberate as he moved closer. I squeezed my eyes shut, counting down the seconds in my head. Three. Two. One… A phone chimed. He froze. He checked the screen, and the mask of the doting husband vanished instantly, replaced by a raw, jagged anxiety. You can always count on the female lead to call at the perfect moment. “I have an emergency,” he said, his voice clipped. He was already halfway to the door. “I have to go.” I knew the “emergency.” Daisy had fainted on set. Kael was burning with worry, ready to leave his bride in the dust. “Wait,” I said, clearing my throat for the performance I was supposed to give. “Who is it? Who’s calling you at this hour?” But my timing was off. I was a writer, not an actress. Before I could even finish the sentence, he was gone. He moved faster than a bullet. What happened to the dramatic wedding night fight I’d scripted? How could I scream at him if he wasn’t even there to hear it? I sat alone in the massive, quiet suite, wanting to tell him he was wasting his time. By the time he got to the hospital, Wyatt—the billionaire male lead—would have already carried her inside. Wyatt would be the one staying by her bedside for thirty-six hours straight. Kael, my poor, beautiful husband… your turn comes later. In my story, the second lead eventually wins. And I was going to make sure he got his Happy Ending, even if it meant I ended up with nothing. 3. I had transmigrated into my debut screenplay, You Are My Starlight. It was a classic “melodramatic romance”—full of plot holes, illogical character turns, and more angst than a teenage diary. The twist was that the “Prince Charming” (Wyatt) lost the girl, and the “Best Friend” (Kael) ended up with her. Wyatt was the titan of the industry, the CEO of the biggest studio in the country. He and I—or rather, the original Jade—were childhood sweethearts. And because I was a hack writer back then, I used the “White Moonlight” trope twice. Daisy and Kael had also known each other since they were kids. Daisy was the classic heroine: poor, fatherless, but stubbornly optimistic. Kael was the mysterious orphan, a mixed-race boy who had been bullied for his “exotic” looks before his beauty turned him into a superstar. Daisy had been the only one to stand by him. Years later, Kael became a top-tier actor but lost touch with Daisy. Daisy entered the industry to pay for her mother’s medical bills and became my stunt double. The story really kicked off when Kael and I were cast in a film together. He reunited with Daisy on set, and Wyatt noticed Daisy because she looked exactly like me. Then came the drama. After the wrap party, the tabloids caught a drunk Wyatt going into a hotel with “Jade.” It was actually Daisy. The rumor died quickly because that same night, the real Jade—the bratty, jealous actress—wrapped her sports car around a tree. That’s when I took over. 4. The crash left the original Jade in a coma. Naturally, our “heaven-sent” heroine, Daisy, had the same rare blood type needed for the transfusion. Don’t ask why the hospital’s blood bank was empty. It was a plot device. In most stories, this is where they’d discover they were long-lost sisters. But I’d put my foot down with the producers on that one. They were strangers. Total coincidences. While I was unconscious, Daisy was busy. She was the one who helped Wyatt to his room. She was the one the studio signed to a massive contract to cover up the scandal. By the time I woke up, the “Original Jade” was a fading star with a crippled leg, and Daisy was the new “It Girl.” The original Jade would have been livid. She would have spent every waking moment trying to destroy Daisy. Kael knew this. He knew Jade was a spiteful, narcissistic mess. So, he decided to “fall in love” with me. He pursued me relentlessly, played the devoted dog, and asked me to marry him—all to keep me distracted so Daisy could be happy with Wyatt. The old Jade loved winning. She loved taking Kael away from Daisy. She said yes just to be cruel. But now, I was the one in the hospital bed. I was the one being pursued. Why was I following the script? Because the script was my map. If I stayed on the path, I knew exactly when the danger was coming. And more importantly, I hadn’t been a complete monster to the villainess. In the end, Jade loses the husband and the fame. She’s disgraced and forced to leave the country. But… she’s still rich. If I can just make it to the final credits, I’ll be a free woman with a massive bank account and a fresh start. That beats being a burnt-out screenwriter any day. 5. Kael didn’t come home until the next morning. I was in the middle of a grueling physical therapy session when he walked in. Honestly, the timing of this transmigration sucked. I didn’t get to enjoy the “villainess” phase where I was pampered and mean; I just got the “recovery” phase where every step felt like I was walking on broken glass. A writer’s karma is a bitch. I lost my balance, my bad leg giving out. I was about to do the classic “heroine fall,” but Kael was there in a heartbeat, his hands steady on my waist. The heat of his palms seeped through my thin gym shirt. I felt a flush creep up my neck. I pulled away as quickly as I could, my heart thumping against my ribs. I’m a sucker for a pretty face, and I’d spent an entire page of the script describing Kael’s perfect features and his lean, athletic build. Keeping my hands off him was becoming a full-time job. Kael used my recovery as an excuse for us to sleep in separate rooms. It was a gentlemanly move, but it also meant he didn’t have to touch a woman he didn’t love. “You okay? You’re staring into space again,” he said, his voice like dark chocolate. “I was just wondering…” I started, triggering the next plot point. “Who were you with last night?” In the script, Jade was supposed to scream, grab his phone, and find Daisy’s name in the call logs. Her jealousy was the fuel that pushed Kael further away. “I went to the hospital to see Daisy,” he said directly. “She collapsed. I was worried and I forgot to explain. I’m sorry, Jade. It won’t happen again.” Wait. What? That wasn’t the script. He was supposed to be cold. He was supposed to look at me with disgust for being so needy. If we don’t fight, how is the audience supposed to feel the tension? “If you don’t say anything, I’ll take that as your forgiveness,” he added, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. I was speechless. The dialogue was gone. Kael reached out and ruffled my hair. “I have something to discuss. My manager says a streaming platform wants us for a reality show. A ‘Newleywed Life’ special. What do you think?” I perked up instantly. “Yes! Absolutely. Let’s do it.” If the script was drifting, a reality show was the perfect way to anchor the “Married Couple” narrative. It would give me the exposure I needed to stay relevant until my exit strategy was ready. 6. The old Jade would have turned up her nose at a reality show. I, however, loved them. Especially the parts where everyone hates each other behind the scenes. For our first “episode,” the producers arranged for me to visit Kael on set. He was shooting a magazine cover with Daisy. The theme: Valentine’s Romance. I watched from the sidelines as Daisy sat in Kael’s lap, playfully feeding him a grape. It looked more like a scene from a historical drama about a decadent emperor and his favorite concubine than a romantic photoshoot. And I wasn’t the only one watching. Wyatt was standing in the corner, his jaw so tight I thought his teeth might crack. Hey, buddy, I thought, glancing at him. Your ‘Obsession’ is right here in front of you, but you’re staring at her double with enough jealousy to burn the building down. When are you going to realize you’ve moved on? “Wyatt! Long time no see,” I said, putting on my best “Ice Queen” swagger as I walked over. Jade was possessive. She didn’t want Wyatt, but she didn’t want anyone else to have him either. Wyatt didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes on the set. “How’s your leg?” he asked, his voice hollow. “Better. I’m here to support my husband.” I pointed to the cameras following me. Wyatt frowned. “I didn’t know you were doing reality TV. You used to hate that stuff.” “Things change,” I said. Suddenly, the air in the room shifted. On set, Kael and Daisy were leaning in closer. Their foreheads touched. It was that “almost-kiss” moment that’s always sexier than the actual kiss. The photographer shouted for them to get closer. Daisy, despite being a rookie, was a natural. “Is he… taking care of you?” Wyatt asked through gritted teeth. He wasn’t jealous of Kael marrying me; he was jealous of Kael holding Daisy. Kael caught my eye. He broke character, a soft, relieved smile lighting up his face. He walked off the set and straight toward me. The reality TV cameraman was practically drooling, waiting for the “sugar” moment. I gave a stiff, awkward wave. Kael didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms, tucking my head under his chin. It was a four-way mess. Daisy loved Wyatt; Wyatt was torn between me and Daisy; Kael loved Daisy but married me; and Kael thought I was still in love with Wyatt. The only person enjoying this was the cameraman. 7. “Sweetheart, did you bring me a gift?” Kael asked, his eyes dancing with mischief. Sweetheart? Who the hell was he talking to? “I thought you might make me lunch. I haven’t eaten all day,” he pouted. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. When a man that beautiful plays the “puppy” card, you don’t stand a chance. I folded. I ran out to the nearest convenience store to find him something. The place was picked over, but I managed to snag the last box of teriyaki chicken. Kael was picky—he hated Western fast food and didn’t even drink coffee. He was the opposite of me, a writer who lived on caffeine and spite. As I walked back to the studio, humming to myself and eating an ice cream bar, I stumbled upon a scene straight out of a romance novel. Wyatt had Daisy pinned against the wall in the stairwell. I shouldn’t have listened. I should have walked away. But I’m a writer. This was research. “It doesn’t matter how much you miss him,” Wyatt growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Your precious Kael isn’t yours anymore. He’s hers.” He was jealous! The CEO was actually throwing a tantrum! Daisy tried to push him away, but he caught her wrists and pinned them over her head. It was much more intense than I’d written it. I almost wanted to pull out my phone and play some dramatic background music. “I’m the one who signed you,” Wyatt whispered in her ear. “I’m the one paying for your mother’s doctors. Look at me, Daisy. I’m the one you owe.” Classic “Cruel Billionaire” dialogue. Daisy had tears in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She was so beautiful in her defiance. “You’re just a shadow of Jade,” Wyatt spat, though his eyes said something else entirely. “Remember your place.” Oh, you’re going to regret that, buddy, I thought. Wyatt’s “madness” always involved mentioning my name. He wanted Daisy to know he was only with her because of me. It was his way of protecting his own heart. I was so lost in the drama that I didn’t notice someone behind me until a hand clamped over my mouth and dragged me away. 8. It was Kael. He led me back into the studio, his expression unreadable. “Are you upset?” he asked, smoothing the frown from my forehead. “The cameras aren’t on us right now.” I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him I was just disappointed in my own writing. “Are you that worried about Wyatt?” “Of course I am. I’m his mother…” I blurted out. Kael froze. “I mean… his mother’s choice for a daughter-in-law!” I scrambled to fix it. Smooth, Jade. Real smooth. Kael’s face darkened. “I know you grew up together. I know he’s looked after you for years. It’s natural for you to care about him.” He was doing that “noble martyr” thing. I couldn’t stand the sadness in his eyes. I grabbed his arm, trying to fix the mood. “Haven’t you heard? The childhood friend never beats the guy who drops out of the sky. You’re my husband now.” Kael didn’t look comforted. Then it hit me. He was the childhood friend. Daisy’s childhood friend. How was I supposed to tell him, “Don’t worry, you win in the end”? I couldn’t. I just handed him the lukewarm chicken. “It’s cold. Like my soul. Do you still want it?” 9. The reality show was easy. My character didn’t have much of a “daily life” in the script, so I just winged it. As long as I hit the major plot points, I could cruise to the finish line. So far, so good. Wyatt and Daisy were in the “will-they-won’t-they” phase of their toxic romance. I showed up whenever a villainess was needed, making Daisy’s life difficult and reminding her that the industry was a shark tank. Every time I saw Daisy look sad, I had to remind myself: This is for her own good. A heroine needs to suffer to grow. While I was living my best life, Kael was exhausted. He was filming a drama, doing the reality show, and helping me with my physical therapy. He was constantly commuting between the city and the remote filming locations just to have dinner with me. I felt bad. So, I decided to be a better “co-star” in his performance of a happy marriage. Fall arrived. The historical drama Kael and I filmed together premiered to massive ratings. The studio—Wyatt’s studio—threw a huge celebration. They wanted to announce a sequel, but this time, Daisy was going to be the lead. The old Jade would have been furious. So, I put on my most expensive dress, painted on a lethal smile, and headed to the party to “humiliate” her. Literally. I was supposed to slap her. I found her by the pool. “What makes you think you can replace me?” I sneered, the lines feeling like lead in my mouth. “You’re a substitute. A placeholder. That’s all you’ll ever be.” Daisy stood her ground. “Being a double is a job I’m proud of. But I’m not a substitute in real life. Please, Jade. Respect yourself enough to stop this.” She was so brave. I couldn’t bring myself to hit her. But if I didn’t “go crazy,” I couldn’t trigger the next scene: the one where I accidentally fall into the pool and make a fool of myself. “You know what?” I muttered. “Forget it.” I took a deep breath, looked at the water, and did a clumsy, dramatic “slip.” I threw my arms out and plunged into the cold water. 10. By the time Wyatt pulled me out, a crowd had gathered. I was “unconscious.” But not really. I was waiting for Wyatt to give me mouth-to-mouth so I could “wake up.” I felt him pinch my nose. I felt his breath on my cheek. He was inches away. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let him kiss me. I erupted into a coughing fit, spraying pool water directly into his face. “I’m awake! I’m fine!” I scrambled up, shivering. Wyatt held me, his voice booming as he glared at Daisy. “Why did you push her?” I wasn’t faking the shivering—it was freezing. Daisy looked panicked. “She jumped! I didn’t touch her!” They started the classic “I don’t believe you” argument. Kael arrived late, saw the drama, and did exactly what he was supposed to do: he took Daisy’s side and led her away to “comfort” her. Daisy would be heartbroken by Wyatt’s distrust. Wyatt would realize he actually cared about Daisy’s feelings. And Jade? Jade was supposed to be fuming. As Kael led Daisy away, I watched them with a sense of motherly pride. But then, Kael turned back. Our eyes met. There was no anger in his gaze. Just a deep, profound disappointment that made my heart ache more than the cold water ever could. The wind picked up, and I suddenly felt very, very small.

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1 I love money, but I hate men who have more of it than I do. That was why, when forced to choose between my highly successful first love and a bleached-blonde rebel who seemed to have no future, I ignored my parents’ furious objections and married the rebel. I chose him because he always knew how to make fast cash, and he always let me keep the lion’s share. Three years into our marriage, we closed another massive deal. While we were splitting the profits, Carter Hayes, my bleached-blonde husband, looked at me and asked: “The money, or me?” “The money.” He didn’t take a single cent from that deal. Instead, he looked at me and said, “Then let’s get a divorce.” My hands paused mid-count. I looked at Carter in surprise. He knew how much I loved money. In the past, we would playfully bicker over our cuts, but he would always ultimately yield, making sure I walked away just a little richer than he did. We never fought. During our entire relationship, he had never once even uttered the word “breakup.” Yet today, he was asking for a divorce. I stared at him blankly. “Why do you want a divorce?” He paused at the doorway, flashing me that same cynical, easygoing smirk he always wore. “Because you always take the bigger cut. It’s not fair.” His eyes drifted to the stacks of cash still sitting on the table. He raised an eyebrow. “It’s all yours. I’m out.” I shifted my feet slightly toward the door, but then stopped. This wasn’t the first time he had bluffed. He’d throw a little tantrum and then come right back. I looked at the money on the table and pulled my foot back. Our job was basically real estate speculation. We scouted old, run-down neighborhoods that were prime targets for commercial redevelopment and bought them out. For instance, this current payout came from a street we had calculated would be bought out by developers. Two years ago, we went door-to-door, buying up the properties. Today, the massive redevelopment funds for those old houses we had bought at a premium finally hit our accounts. But because we didn’t have a traditional storefront or a conventional 9-to-5 job, in my parents’ eyes, we were just a pair of jobless drifters. The next evening, I did something rare: I cooked a full dinner. I called him. “Stop messing around. I made dinner. Come home.” On the other end of the line, he said he wasn’t coming back. I twirled the ends of my hair around my finger and threw out a casual threat. “If you aren’t back by midnight, I’m getting back together with Spencer Montgomery.” I hung up with a confident smile on my face. Carter was usually incredibly laid-back, but the mere mention of my first love’s name always made his blood boil with wild jealousy. I sat leisurely on the couch, eating fruit and watching the news, casually researching which street we should buy out next. It wasn’t until the clock struck 11:30 PM that a faint sense of panic began to set in. I had never felt this kind of imbalance with him before. I gripped my phone tightly, staring as the minutes ticked by on the screen. Finally, midnight hit. A knock sounded at the door. I practically sprinted to open it. “Miss, I have a priority delivery for you. Please sign here.” A courier in a blue uniform stood in the hallway. I opened the envelope. Inside was a finalized divorce agreement. Was he actually serious? The courier glanced at the documents in my hand. “Ma’am, please sign. I have to take it back tonight. Who finalizes a divorce in the middle of the night anyway?” A flicker of humiliation burned in my chest. I snatched the pen, hastily scribbled my signature, and slammed the door shut. I immediately dialed Carter’s number. He rejected the call. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I drafted a text to him. [Spencer has been visiting my parents a lot since I dumped him. He’s going over for dinner tomorrow, and so am I. Since we’re divorced, you finally have no say in what I do!] After hitting send, I felt like I had won the round. 2 The next day, I bought gifts and went to my parents’ house. When they saw me, a flash of surprise crossed their eyes, followed immediately by overwhelming joy. I hadn’t been back since I ran away from home to marry Carter. Spencer Montgomery, my first love, was sitting on the sofa. He adjusted his collar, looking at me with a slight flush on his face. “Mia, what brings you here?” I shot him a cold look. “This is my house. Am I not allowed to come back?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. During dinner, I kept my eyes glued to my phone, secretly sending Carter a second message. [If you don’t reply in ten minutes, I’m marrying Spencer.] After dinner, I stood out on the balcony, letting the cool breeze hit my face. Still no reply from Carter. Spencer walked out and handed me a glass of water. “I’m sorry. I was wrong back then. I’m the reason you turned out like this…” When I was dating Spencer, we were seniors in college. We were practically at the stage of discussing marriage. The day we broke up was the day my entire life changed. I had accidentally lost a hundred-dollar bill he had given me. I apologized quietly. But he berated me in front of our entire graduating class, screaming about how useless I was. I felt humiliated and snapped back loudly, “It’s just a hundred bucks! I’ll pay you back, okay?!” He suddenly lunged from his seat, grabbed me by the throat, and slammed me against the wall. He had just opened a small computer repair shop through his own grueling hard work, and he had become pathologically obsessed with money. He screamed that making money wasn’t easy, that I was a parasite still living off my parents in college, and asked if I planned to leech off him for the rest of my life too. I didn’t understand his rage and kept talking back. So, he slapped me across the face in front of everyone. Carter Hayes, the slacking, bleached-blonde underachiever from the neighboring department, happened to be walking past the classroom. He rushed in, tackled Spencer to the ground, and dragged me out to the football field. When I called my parents crying, they all sympathized with Spencer’s stress. They even told me he was right. That day, I sat on the bleachers hugging my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. That was the day I learned the true weight of money. If you spend other people’s money, they will look down on you. So, I decided I was going to make my own money. I wanted to be richer than all of them, so that no matter how I spent it, no one could ever point a finger at me. I didn’t go home for days after that. Carter booked me a hotel room and let me stay there alone. At night, he took me to clubs where we’d blow thousands of dollars in a few hours. During the day, he took me to high-end restaurants where a single meal cost a small fortune. I knew he was an orphan. I couldn’t figure out how he had so much untraceable cash, so I asked him if he was doing something illegal. He just scoffed. “Money is lying everywhere on the ground. You just have to have the brains to pick it up.” From then on, I started running with him. I demanded he teach me how to make money. He always indulged me, always making sure I got the larger cut. 3 Seeing Spencer and me standing on the balcony together, my parents tentatively chimed in. “Mia, it’s been years. Spencer has been waiting for you.” I knew exactly what they were implying. “I’m divorced,” I stated flatly. Spencer asked if I could give him another chance. I pointed to the dilapidated, historic street directly across from my parents’ neighborhood. My eyes gleamed with ambition. “Buy out that entire street, and I’ll marry you. You just handle the negotiations. I’ll provide the capital.” I could see Spencer hesitate. In his rigid moral compass, what I was proposing bordered on unethical because it required manipulation and aggressive tactics. I grabbed my purse and turned around. “If it’s too hard, forget it. You never loved me as much as Carter did anyway.” As I opened the front door to leave, Spencer’s voice rang out behind me. “I can do it!” I let out a soft laugh and walked out. Any street I set my sights on, Carter would definitely have noticed before me. So the news that I would marry Spencer if he secured that street was guaranteed to reach Carter’s ears. Exactly as I predicted, a year later, just as Spencer was finalizing the acquisitions, someone hijacked the deal out from under him. Every single homeowner who had agreed to sell suddenly backed out. I stood at the entrance of the street. Carter, who had vanished for an entire year, strolled up to me with his usual arrogant swagger. “You wanted this street too?” I rolled my eyes. “You’ve already secured it, Mr. Hayes. Stop acting.” He put on a look of total bewilderment. “I just heard the news, so I came to check it out.” I stared at him intently. His bleached hair had long been dyed back to its natural dark color. He didn’t look like he was lying. But in our line of work, lying without blinking was a baseline requirement. I questioned the truth of every single syllable he spoke. For the next few days, I tagged along with him, eating and drinking on his dime. Every day, I asked him: “Did you buy out this street or not? Transfer it to me.” But his lips were sealed tight. He just gave me his usual cynical smile and vague, noncommittal answers. Over the following days, I stopped contacting him. Because I was currently lying in a VIP room at a private hospital, diagnosed with acute kidney failure. When he arrived, his usual arrogant smirk was entirely gone. He stared at my pale lips and gripped my hand tightly. I had never seen him look so serious. “Why did this happen so suddenly?” I spoke slowly, my voice weak. “Maybe it’s karma. You know my obsession with money has become a sickness… “Considering I don’t have much time left, can you just tell me if you bought that street?” He whispered anxiously, “Why are you still obsessing over that street at a time like this?” A tear slipped from the corner of my eye. “Did you buy it or not?! I’m literally dying, and you still won’t tell me?” Carter abruptly stood up. “I’ll come back to see you later.” He turned and walked out the door. Listening to his fading footsteps, I quickly pulled out a compact mirror and checked my ‘sick’ makeup. Thank God. I thought he had caught me. A full day passed, and he still hadn’t returned. Bored out of my mind in the hospital bed, I started wandering the halls of the private clinic. I noticed a door slightly ajar. The person lying in the bed looked exactly like Carter. I gently pushed the door open and walked in. He was lying there, looking incredibly frail. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me. “You’re here…” I frowned deeply, sitting on the edge of his bed. “What happened to you?” He parted his dry lips. “I went to the doctor yesterday to see if I could give you one of my kidneys… but the results came back…” I stared at him, dead serious. “What did the results say?” He let out a weak, breathy laugh. “Just like you. I have acute kidney failure too.” 4 I froze. Staring at his pale, exhausted expression, I couldn’t find the words to speak. He gently patted the back of my hand. “I’ll give you three chances. You can ask me three questions. Consider it my parting gift to you.” The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it. “Just focus on resting for now.” He shook his head. “I’m being discharged tomorrow. There’s no point lying in a hospital bed anyway. Want to come with?” I nodded. The next day, we both checked out of the hospital and went back to his place. He definitely looked like a terminal patient today—at least, a much more convincing one than me. The bridge of my nose stung with unshed tears. He sat on the couch with his laptop, researching which old streets were ripe for acquisition, exactly like he used to. I sat on the desk, watching him. The first question: “That street… was it you who bought it?” He set the laptop aside, crossed his arms, and looked at me. “Why do you want to know so badly?” Looking at his haggard face, my eyes welled up with tears. I reached out, hugged him, and started crying. “I don’t know why you divorced me. But if you admit you bought that street, it proves you still love me.” He reached up, gently stroking my cheek, and nodded. “I bought it. When I heard you were going to marry him, my heart literally ached. I didn’t want to see you marry him.” I looked up at him. “Then why did you divorce me?” He tenderly wiped my tears away and smiled. “Didn’t I tell you? You always took the bigger cut.” I shook my head. “That doesn’t count as a question. I’ll pick another one. Do you really have acute kidney failure?” He pulled me into his arms, resting his hand on the back of my head, and whispered earnestly: “You are the woman I love most in this world… I used to wonder all the time if we’d still be bickering like this when we got old. “When I found out I had this disease, I just wanted to leave the best things I had to you before I was gone.” He cupped my face, staring deeply into my eyes. I froze for a moment, then nodded, tears pooling in my eyes. But the very next second, he couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. The fragile, dying aura instantly vanished from his face. 5 I shoved him away furiously. “You lied to me again! I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence!” He leaned in close, whispering, “What about you?” I lifted my chin defiantly. “Mine is obviously real! I’m practically dying, and you’re still tricking me!” He shrugged. “Then mine is real too.” I sat angrily on the sofa. “If neither of us is going to tell the truth, then let’s just shut up!” He smiled and shook his head. Once I calmed down, I continued, “That last question didn’t count either. I still have two questions left, right?” He nodded. “If you say so.” I asked eagerly, “Can you give me the contract for that street?” “Sure.” He led me to a room on the second floor and handed me the acquisition contracts. I held the documents, happily throwing my arms around his neck. He matched my enthusiasm, holding me tight. “Look at that. You’re richer than me again.” The next morning, I woke up, grabbed the contracts from the nightstand, and read through them over and over, a satisfied smile on my face. “Time to get up. Come somewhere with me,” he said, pushing the door open. I waved the contracts at him. “Don’t forget you have to come to the notary office with me to transfer the title.” After getting dressed, he took me to a high-end jewelry store and asked me to help him pick out a wedding ring. I teased him, “What, are you planning to propose again?” In the past, I always criticized the rings he picked out when he proposed. It seemed he had finally learned his lesson and was letting me pick it myself. He smiled. “It’s not for you. Just help me pick.” Naturally, I chose the ring with the largest diamond in the store. He paid for it and slipped the velvet box into his pocket. Then, we headed to the notary office to handle the contract transfer. After handing the documents to the clerk, I turned to look at Carter. He couldn’t hide the smirk playing on his lips. It was the exact same expression he wore the last time he proposed to me. I cleared my throat. “Wait here a second. I need to use the restroom.” I hurried to the restroom, washed my hands meticulously, and slathered them in hand cream, prepping my fingers for the impending proposal. After fussing for half an hour, I held out my hands. They looked soft, pale, and perfect. Satisfied, I walked back out to the lobby. The clerk handed the documents back to me. “These are invalid. These are fake contracts.” “What?” I suspiciously took the papers back, quickly scanning the clauses and signatures. “That’s impossible. Are you sure you didn’t miss something…?” As I started to argue with the clerk, I glanced over at Carter. He was already failing to suppress his laughter. I had been played. Again. I furiously threw the fake contracts at his chest, screaming, “Carter Hayes! Do you think making a fool out of me is funny?!” He looked at me with that infuriating, punchable smirk. “I just love seeing you angry.” More and more people in the notary office were stopping to stare at the hysterical woman and the perfectly calm man. I took a deep breath. “If you act like this, don’t ever expect me to marry you again!” Carter stood up. “When did I ever say I wanted you to marry me again?” 6 I pointed at the pocket where he had put the ring. “Isn’t that for me?” Carter let out a soft laugh. “We’re divorced. Why would it be for you?” In the past, if a joke went this far, he would immediately backtrack and start coaxing me. But today, he didn’t. Just as I was about to fire back, my parents walked into the notary office, with Spencer right behind them. Spencer handed me a stack of documents, his face glowing with excitement. “Mia, I finally managed to secure these contracts! Don’t worry, you don’t have to pay a dime. They’re my gift to you.” Before I could even speak, he handed the documents to the clerk to initiate the transfer. I watched the clerk’s serious expression. “Yes, these are authentic. We will transfer the deeds into Mia Hastings’ name now.” Carter leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “I told you I didn’t buy them out, but you wouldn’t listen. It looks like he really has changed. Congratulations.” My eyes widened slightly. I quickly snatched my ID back from the clerk. “Cancel the transfer.” Leaving my thoroughly confused parents, a bewildered Spencer, and a smirking Carter behind, I walked out of the notary office alone. Back in my car, I stared blankly at the entrance of the building. It seemed my ego had completely run away with me. I had never genuinely believed Carter would actually care about how we split our money. I had been absolutely certain he bought out that old street purely because he was fighting for me. I thought he only admitted to it because I annoyed him into it. I let out a bitter laugh. His years of constant coddling had made me blindly, delusionally confident. Knock, knock, knock. Someone rapped on my window. My parents and Spencer had followed me to the car. I unlocked the doors. They got in and immediately started discussing wedding plans for Spencer and me. I cut them off. “How did you know I was at the notary office?” My parents exchanged a look. Spencer stayed silent for a moment before saying, “I was coming here to ask about the transfer process, and I just happened to see you.” “I thought that street had already been bought out. How did you get the contracts? And where did you get that kind of money?” Spencer didn’t answer. My mom chimed in, telling me that to secure the street and marry me, Spencer had practically lived on the homeowners’ doorsteps, begging them to sell. He eventually offered a 20% premium over the market acquisition price to secure the buyout. As for the money, he liquidated his commercial leases, sold his family’s ancestral home, and took out massive bank loans just to buy that street for me. My mom looked at me earnestly, telling me I shouldn’t let him down. After dropping my parents off at their house, I went downstairs alone. My mind was a chaotic mess. Everything that was happening recently was spiraling entirely out of my control. Spencer chased me downstairs and called out my name.

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The youngest son of the Sterling family and I had despised each other for eight years. Later, my family went bankrupt. I ended up riding a rusty bicycle and selling breakfast burritos from a food cart near Ethan Sterling’s university. One day, he walked by, surrounded by his usual entourage, his face the picture of calm arrogance. But the moment he saw me, his entire body went rigid. He frantically shoved the cigarette he was holding into the hands of the guy next to him. “I wasn’t smoking! It’s not mine! I quit a long time ago!” 1 “Hey, Ethan, isn’t that Chloe Vance? Hahahaha! I heard her family went bankrupt. How did the little princess end up selling burritos on the street?” “Want me to get someone to flip her cart, Ethan? Maybe call campus security and play a little game of cat and mouse?” “Looking at her now, she’s not even a mouse. She’s a rat.” “Does it feel good to see her begging for scraps, Ethan?” … I followed the sound of the voices. One glance was all it took for my mood to sour. Back when my family was rich and powerful, I had made it my personal mission to put these arrogant, spoiled brats in their place. They whispered among themselves, laughing as they strutted toward my cart. “This tortilla is burnt. Is it even edible?” The girl who was currently buying a burrito from me frowned, unhappy that I had spaced out. “I’m so sorry, let me make you a fresh one. Just give me one minute.” I looked down and cracked a fresh egg onto the grill. Suddenly, a crumpled ball of trash hit my cart. “Selling burnt food? Looks like you don’t want this cart anymore.” The one speaking was Blake. He was the heaviest guy in their group, and in the past, I had beaten him black and blue more than once for bullying other students. When the girl saw Blake’s menacing look, she waved her hands frantically and ran off. “Never mind, keep it!” Blake kicked the wheel of my cart. “Chloe Vance. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. The tables have really turned, haven’t they? I never thought I’d see the day.” “You look like a stray dog. It’s disgusting.” “Ethan, I’ll teach her a lesson for you!” The “Ethan” he was referring to was Ethan Sterling. My lifelong nemesis. He was standing a few feet away, walking over while surrounded by his posse. He was dressed head-to-toe in designer streetwear, his hair dyed a trendy ash-brown. I could smell his expensive oud cologne from a mile away. The youngest heir of the Sterling empire. Everything about him screamed pampered luxury and effortless perfection. He always looked so careless and lazy that it was hard to associate him with being a top-tier student at a prestigious university. Blake looked like a dog waiting for a treat, pausing until Ethan got closer. Then, rolling up his sleeves, Blake grabbed an entire carton of my eggs and smashed them onto the pavement. Yolk and shells splattered everywhere. I glared at the smug look on Blake’s face, grabbed my scalding hot metal spatula, and pointed it directly at his face. His legs visibly shook. He stumbled backward in terror, hiding behind Ethan. “Ethan, save me!” The young man stood in front of me, half a head taller than I was. My gaze slowly moved downward, landing on the lit cigarette pinched between his fingers. I frowned. The very next second, Ethan’s entire body went stiff. He rapidly shoved the cigarette directly into Blake’s mouth and held up his empty hands. “I wasn’t smoking! He was!” “I quit a long time ago!” 2 With the cigarette dangling awkwardly from his lips, Blake looked at Ethan in utter confusion. He mumbled around the filter, “E-Ethan, this isn’t yours…” Ethan clamped a hand over Blake’s mouth. “Smoke your cigarette and shut up.” The other guys in the group sensed something was off. They exchanged bewildered looks and started whispering. “What’s going on? Doesn’t Ethan want revenge?” “Someone said they saw Chloe running a cart here this morning, and he sprinted over faster than anyone. Wasn’t he coming here to gloat?” “Why does it feel like Ethan is… terrified of her?” “I’m not gonna lie, one phrase comes to mind: whipped.” “Shut up, it’s probably PTSD!” 3 Ethan and I grew up together. But we couldn’t stand the sight of each other. Ethan was the ultimate rebellious rich kid. Skipping class to street race, spending days at internet cafes playing games—no one could control him. But even though he slept through class and gamed all night, his grades were always at the very top of the class. Whenever the rankings came out, he would lean over with a punchable smirk and say: “You need to study harder, Chloe. Otherwise, you’ll just have to settle for inheriting your family’s billions.” The feud was cemented right then and there. Starting in middle school, every time he skipped class, I snitched on him. Then, armed with the “royal decree” from Mr. Sterling, I would personally drag him home by his ear. I didn’t spare his little gang of rich friends, either. Anyone who talked back got pinned to the ground until their parents came to pick them up. Ethan couldn’t beat me in a fight. He could only watch helplessly as I drove away in his favorite sports car, unplugged his internet router, and used jet-black hair dye to cover up whatever neon colors he had put in his hair. We hated each other’s guts. The year we graduated high school, I finally received a confession letter from my crush. But before I could read it, Ethan snatched it right out of my hands. When I went to find my crush later, he shook his head frantically and denied the letter ever existed. I stormed over to Ethan’s to settle the score, only to overhear him talking to his friends: “Chloe Vance is practically a barbarian. Any guy who likes a girl that violent must be completely blind.” I walked right up and slapped him across the face on the spot. 4 Ethan shot his friends a death glare, and the boys finally shut their mouths. I looked up at them, my tone perfectly calm: “If you aren’t going to buy anything, please step aside. You’re blocking my customers.” “Also, you’re paying full price for the eggs you smashed. Two dollars each.” Hearing this, Blake got defensive. “Customers? You call this a business? Are your burritos even fully cooked? You just wait, I’m calling campus security to kick you out—” I raised my heavy spatula, ready to chase him off. Instantly, the tall guy next to Blake stepped in to protect him. Blake looked down his nose at me. “Don’t think I won’t touch you. Do you honestly still think you’re the untouchable Vance heiress?” “Touch her and see what happens.” A freezing voice dropped like a hammer. Blake froze. He turned to look at the man who spoke, his eyes wide in disbelief. “E-Ethan… what did you say?” “Was I not clear enough? I said—” Ethan enunciated every syllable with lethal precision, “Touch her and see what happens.” Blake snapped his mouth shut and backed away in shame. Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets, took a step forward, and let his gaze fall on me. “I’m buying. How much?” “Eight dollars for a regular. Ten if you add bacon.” Ethan paused. “Add bacon.” I expertly cracked an egg onto the hot grill and poured a ladle of batter. When I glanced up, I caught Ethan secretly taking off his flashy earrings and silver chain. He was even using his hands to aggressively flatten his meticulously styled, gelled hair. I let out a short laugh and wiped the stray batter off my hands with a towel. “You don’t need to do that anymore. The Vance family is gone. Your nightmare is over.” Two months ago, a massive project my family’s company invested in collapsed. After liquidating all our assets to pay off debts and severances, my father had no choice but to declare bankruptcy. Overnight, I went from being a pampered heiress to a girl flipping burritos on the street. I was used to it by now. My family went from a massive, five-story luxury mansion to a cramped, 600-square-foot apartment. We went from eating Michelin-star meals every day to eating leftover rice and cheap bread. Right now, my only thought was working hard, making money, and surviving. As for Ethan Sterling, we were no longer from the same world. I wrapped up the bacon breakfast burrito, handed it to him, and lifted my chin toward the printed sign on my cart. “Venmo or CashApp. Show me your screen when it’s done.” Ethan frowned. After transferring the money, he held his phone up for me to see. “One hundred and fifty dollars? You sent too much.” Ethan turned his head, looking at my surroundings with a complex expression. “Are you out here every single day?” I glanced at him. “Not always.” Ethan muttered a quiet, “Oh.” The environment here really wasn’t great. Even though we were right next to the university and there were other food carts around, my spot was pretty deserted. That girl they scared off earlier was my very first customer of the day. This business really wasn’t easy. Ethan showed no signs of leaving. He took a bite of the burrito, his frown deepening. “My birthday is next month. Are you free?” In the past, he was forced by our parents to invite me to his birthday parties every year. The result was always me turning his party into a chaotic disaster. I couldn’t believe he was actually inviting me now. “I can be. But you know my situation. I won’t be bringing any fancy gifts.” Ethan scratched the back of his head. He still looked incredibly arrogant and aloof as he spoke. “Oh, whatever. It’s just that Coco misses you.” Coco. The little Pomeranian I had given him for his eighteenth birthday. (I had originally named her “Little Chloe” to annoy him, but it stuck). “Alright. I’ll bring some extra bacon for her.” The atmosphere fell into an awkward silence again. Ethan opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else. Suddenly, a girl in a white tennis skirt came jogging over, puffing her cheeks out like an angry blowfish. “Ethan! Where have you been?! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She was incredibly cute and sweet-looking, petite but curvy. Even I couldn’t help but stare for a second. When she noticed me, she looked slightly surprised, but offered a polite nod. “Hi there!” Ethan kept his hands in his pockets, looking down at her. “What are you doing here?” The girl looked away from me, stood on her tiptoes, and glared up at Ethan. “Don’t give me that! The professor told us to meet to discuss the math modeling competition. Did you forget again?” Ethan nodded, looking like he just remembered. The girl pointed at his earlobe. “When did you take your earrings out? I told you to take them out ages ago, otherwise your dad is going to get mad again.” When Ethan’s gaze flicked toward me, I tactfully looked away. “I know.” The girl stared at me intently for several seconds. I was getting a little confused, and our eyes met. She finally asked, “Do you guys know each other?” Ethan looked past me. “Yeah. We know each other.” Serena playfully swatted Ethan’s arm. “You didn’t even introduce us! Hi, I’m Serena.” I took in all their little intimate gestures. “I’m Chloe.” Serena thought for a moment. “Chloe Vance? I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before.” “It’s a beautiful name!” “Since you guys know each other, do you want to come to our birthday party next week? Ethan and I have the exact same birthday! Our families talked about it for ages and actually decided to host a joint party!” “Not that I wanted to share a party with him! Boys’ parties are always so loud and obnoxious.” “But, will you come?” Serena put her hands behind her back, tilting her head adorably. My tone was flat. “Sure, if I have the time.” Serena enthusiastically grabbed my hand. “That would be perfect!” The moment she said that, she immediately spun around, feigning anger at Ethan. “Okay, okay, the professor is waiting. Mr. Sterling, can we go now?” Without waiting for his answer, she grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the campus gates. I slowly lowered my eyes. Right then, Ethan suddenly turned his head and raised his voice. “Chloe, are you trying to cut ties with me?” I forced a smile. “No. Our relationship is exactly the same as it’s always been.” 5 After Ethan left, Blake stared at their retreating backs and sneered. “See that, Chloe? That is Ethan’s true match.” “Equal social standing, a match made in heaven!” Serena was a head and a half shorter than Ethan. To keep up with him, she had to walk incredibly fast. But Ethan had unconsciously slowed his pace to match hers. I looked away from them and smirked. “They do look good together.” “Chloe, the only reason Ethan didn’t mess with you today is because he’s a nice guy. He pities you. He doesn’t want to stoop to your level.” “If you’re smart, you’ll pack up this trash cart and roll as far away as possible.” I smiled and casually picked up my heavy metal spatula. Blake flinched, terrified. “Just scaring you. Blake, do me a favor and stop barking in my presence.” Blake desperately tried to reclaim his dignity. “You wouldn’t dare! If you harm a single hair on my head, the Blake family will destroy what’s left of the Vances. When that happens, your dad—the former CEO—will have to lick my shoes to apologize—” Before he could finish his sentence, I stepped forward, grabbed his arm, and cleanly flipped him over my shoulder. “Wipe your mouth. It smells like you’ve been eating shit.” Blake hit the pavement hard, groaning in pain and crying for his mother. I dusted my hands off. “You’re more than welcome to try me.” Blake scrambled up, clutching his face, and stumbled away. “You just wait!” I watched him run, then silently pushed my food cart a little further in the opposite direction. Looks like I’ll have to find a new spot to sell burritos tomorrow.

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