Category: English

1 The day my company went public, my best friend drugged me. When I opened my eyes again, I was tied up in a car. My so-called friend was toying with the signet ring he’d pulled from my finger, a vicious grin spreading across his face. “Rest easy, my friend,” he sneered. “I’ll be sure to take good care of your wife and the company for you.” Before I could even process the rage, the car, with me in it, plunged into the ocean. My best friend, Owen, thought I was dead. Three days later, at my memorial service, he and the shareholders he’d bribed prepared to take over my company. “Gentlemen,” Owen announced to the room, “the company has just gone public. It cannot be without a leader. Therefore, I propose to manage the company on my brother’s behalf, temporarily.” His words were a signal. The bought-off shareholders immediately voiced their support, pressuring those who remained hesitant. Just as the decision was about to be sealed, the man they thought was dead rolled into the memorial service, pushed in a wheelchair by my assistant. “I’m not dead yet,” I said, my voice cutting through the stunned silence. “So when did it become your turn, a murderer, to inherit my company?” … The triumphant smile on Owen’s face froze, his eyes wide with disbelief and shock. My arrival sent a wave of panic through the mourners. “Mr… Mr. Blackwood?” “A ghost! Is he a man or a ghost!” “But they said he was dead! The car went into the ocean, no body was ever found!” They scrambled back, giving me a wide berth. I wheeled myself to the side of the empty coffin and let out a cold laugh. “They couldn’t even find a body, and you dared to hold my memorial?” I fixed my gaze on Owen. “You must be very disappointed right now, Owen. Because you failed to kill me. And now, you’re in trouble. Now, it’s my turn to kill you.” My words shocked everyone back to reality. “Everyone, calm down! If Mr. Blackwood is speaking, it means he was lucky enough to survive.” “Wait, did you hear what he said first? He said, ‘When did it become your turn, a murderer, to inherit my company?’” The attendees exchanged nervous glances, their eyes all turning to the panicked figure of Owen standing by the altar. Whispers erupted as they began to piece together the truth. I expected Owen to be terrified, to beg for my mercy. He did neither. His composure returned with chilling speed, and a sarcastic smile touched his lips. “Brother, what are you talking about?” he said, his voice dripping with false innocence. “I didn’t murder you. If you’re going to insist on slandering me, you’d better have proof.” He added with a taunting lilt, “Spreading rumors is illegal, you know.” He walked down from the altar, and as he passed the coffin, he lifted his foot and kicked it over with a violent thud. “This damn thing is bad luck,” he scoffed. “Useless, empty box.” CRACK! The coffin splintered on the floor. Owen’s eyes met mine, a defiant, mocking glint in them. He was kicking the coffin, but he meant to kick me. “Brother, you may have come back alive, but the board has already decided to let me manage the company,” he declared. “And I swear, I didn’t use any dirty tricks to force the shareholders. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?” He smiled at the crowd of shareholders. Those he’d paid off quickly stepped forward. “That’s correct. It was the unanimous decision of the shareholders to have Mr. Stone manage the company.” “Even if you’re alive, you have to accept reality. The company is public now. You can’t just call all the shots by yourself.” Owen clapped his hands together, delighted. “Did you hear that, brother?” he said. “It’s not that I want the seat. It’s that they asked me to take it.” He leaned in closer. “I know you’re not happy about it, but you’ll have to swallow it. Because while I’m in charge, if anyone causes trouble for me, I won’t let them off easy.” The threat was clearly aimed at me. But he was forgetting something. I had started from nothing. I had seen and survived storms he couldn’t even imagine. I wasn’t about to capsize because of a pathetic snake like him. 2 Before I could speak, Owen’s assistant, drunk on his borrowed power, rushed forward and kicked my wheelchair. “Cole, it’s over for you! There’s no place for you in this company anymore.” He spat as he spoke, spittle landing in my hair. “And now you’re a cripple. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go home and rot.” I have a thing about cleanliness. I despise being made dirty. I looked up, my eyes narrowing. “Say that again.” Owen’s assistant didn’t sense the danger. He opened his mouth and repeated the insult. I pulled a small knife from my pocket and plunged it deep into his thigh. “Heh. A little closer, and you would’ve lost that ‘thing’ of yours.” The blade went in clean and came out red. Blood splattered onto my hand. I calmly took out a handkerchief and wiped it clean. “AAAAAHHHH!!” The assistant crumpled to the floor, clutching his leg and writhing in agony. The scene stunned the crowd into silence, a stark reminder of my more… ruthless methods. I ran a legitimate business, but I also commanded forces that few people knew existed. A mutt like this, daring to bark at me, was digging his own grave. “I did warn you,” I said softly. Owen’s face darkened, his eyes glaring at me like a wolf. A shareholder, eager to curry favor with him, stood up and pointed a finger at me. “Cole, don’t take it too far!” he shouted. “He was just telling you to leave, you didn’t have to hurt him!” I looked at the shareholder with a knowing, humorless smile. His name was Arthur. I had saved his life. I remembered years ago when he’d gambled away everything and was about to jump off a building. I pulled him back from the ledge, paid off his debts, and gave him a stake in my then-fledgling company. He had knelt at my feet, weeping, promising a lifetime of gratitude. Now, here he was, siding with Owen, ready to stab me in the back. The betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow. “You said he was just telling me to leave?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “This empire was built with my blood and sweat. You thieves waltz in, try to steal it, and then order me out. Tell me, who exactly is taking it too far? Go on. I’m listening.” “Since you’re asking, I’ll tell you,” a new voice cut in. “Because the company needs a healthy man to lead it, not a cripple like you. Understand?” My wife, Evelyn, strode into the room, high heels clicking, swaying her hips. I turned to her in disbelief, my hands clenching into fists. Her eyes were fixed on Owen, and Owen’s eyes were devouring her figure. In that instant, I understood. The two of them had conspired against me, a vile, treacherous pact. “Evelyn,” I ground out. “Do you know what you’re saying? Do you remember whose wife you are?” She met my fury with a cold, indifferent shrug. “Of course, I know what I’m saying.” She paused, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. “As for being your wife… not anymore.” “What do you mean?” I demanded, a terrible premonition creeping into my heart. That night… they had gotten me drunk, and they’d made me sign two contracts. Was this…? My head snapped up to meet Evelyn’s cunning gaze and Owen’s triumphant sneer. The fire of being played for a fool was unquenchable. “Heh,” Evelyn purred. “It seems you’re finally starting to figure it out.” 3 Consumed by rage, I wheeled myself over to Evelyn, grabbing her arm. “Those contracts you two made me sign that night,” I snarled, “what were they?” She shot me a look of pure contempt and violently ripped her arm from my grasp. “Don’t touch me, you pathetic cripple.” Then, she slapped me. Hard. That slap obliterated any lingering affection I had for her. The remaining guests began to murmur amongst themselves. To quell the gossip, Evelyn addressed the room from the front. “Ladies and gentlemen, my sincerest apologies,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “It seems there has been a terrible misunderstanding. Cole is, as you can see, very much alive. I apologize for the confusion. Please, accept my apologies and feel free to leave. What remains is a private family matter, and we will handle it ourselves.” Once the guests had departed, Evelyn’s gentle smile vanished, replaced by a mask of cold cruelty. “Cole, you’re such a smart man,” she cooed. “Why don’t you use that brilliant mind of yours to guess what those contracts were?” As she finished speaking, Owen wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss. I watched, my eyes burning red, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles were white, as my wife and my best friend devoured each other. A chill spread from my heart, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Ev-e-lyn,” I bit out each syllable. “Give me one reason for this betrayal.” Owen effortlessly lifted her into his arms and sat down across from me. “Why are you so worked up, brother? With your legs broken, a useless man like you should be lying in bed, counting your final days.” He smirked. “Didn’t I tell you? I’d take care of the company and your wife for you. I just took care of her… all the way into my bed.” Evelyn, nestled in his embrace, added her own venom. “Cole, I never loved you. I married you because you were rich and powerful.” Her eyes raked over me with disgust. “Now you’ve lost everything. You’re useless. What’s the difference between you and a cripple?” Believing they had full control, they dropped all pretenses. Staring at their repulsive faces, my mind went blank. One was my best friend, the other, the woman I loved. I had treated them both with nothing but generosity after my success. Especially Owen. He was my childhood friend. His family was dirt poor; he almost couldn’t afford college. I begged my father to sponsor his education. And now, he had forgotten everything, using my kindness to destroy me. The few shareholders who hadn’t taken a side could no longer stand it. They stood up, their voices filled with righteous indignation, pointing at the pair. “You two are disgusting! Now I see it all.” “You conspired to kill Cole so you could take over his company, didn’t you?” “Shameless. Vicious. We will not accept Owen as the head of this company.” “That’s right!” For a brief moment, I felt a flicker of warmth. In times of crisis, you see who your true friends are. Owen set Evelyn down and stood up, strolling around nonchalantly. “So what if you guessed right? This world is survival of the fittest. If you’re not ruthless enough on your way to the top, you won’t last.” He sneered at the shareholder who had spoken. “You old fossil, your support means nothing. It won’t change the fact that I’m taking over.” With that, Owen punched the man, sending him staggering back. “Old man, if you ever dare point your finger at me again, I’ll break it on the spot.” He glared at the others. “Don’t think that cripple Cole can save you. You’d all be wise to pick the right side if you don’t want to end up in a ditch.”

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The day Asher Ford won Best Actor, a ten-year-old video went viral. The camera footage showed a torrential downpour. He was gripping a young girl’s shoulders, his voice raw with anguish. “Iris, how can someone as cold-blooded as you even exist? Why don’t you just die?” Netizens meticulously identified the girl in the video—me. The girl who now gutted fish at the local market, working several jobs a day to pay off debts, living a life that was a complete wreck. They all laughed, saying I’d gotten what I deserved. Later, we met again on another rainy night. I had fallen, a mess on the ground, struggling to right my busted-up tricycle. Asher Ford stepped out of a Maybach, holding an umbrella over my head. Beneath its shadow, his face was a mask of indifference. “This,” he said, “is the pathetic life you’ve made for yourself without me.” 01 When that ten-year-old video started trending, I was at the market, gutting a fish. In the video, the girl’s side was to the camera. The rain had soaked her white dress, making her look fragile and thin, like a butterfly with a broken wing. After that hysterical, desperate question from the young man, she pried his fingers from her shoulders, her voice almost cruel. “Then you can just consider me dead.” The old fan at the next stall over was so loud that the sound from my phone felt distorted and distant. I handed the wrapped fish to a young customer. She glanced at me, then back at the video playing on her phone. “Do you… do you know Asher Ford?” she stammered. I lowered my eyes. “No.” A splash of grimy water, thick with the smell of fish, hit my chin. It was a smell I was long used to, but at that moment, it made my stomach churn. The customer’s eyes were filled with doubt. I managed a small smile. “An A-lister like him? How could he know someone like me?” 02 I shut down my stall in a hurry and fled back to my cramped little flat. It was the middle of the rainy season, and the roof was leaking, leaving disgusting patches of mold on the ceiling. I’d never gotten around to replacing my shattered phone screen. The signal was terrible. I had to refresh the page several times before it finally loaded. The hashtag #AsherFordsExGirlfriend was at the top of the list. Someone had already doxxed me. I clicked on the post. The photo showed me with my lips pressed into a thin line, my hands covered in the blood and gore of my work. Sweat-plastered strands of hair stuck to my face, along with a few stray fish scales. I looked haggard and utterly defeated. The top comment had tens of thousands of likes. [Damn! The doxxing speed is insane. Karma’s a bitch!] [Asher’s watch is worth 3 million, she guts a fish for 3 bucks. Instant karma, LMAO.] [My heart broke seeing our angel Asher begging her not to leave, that look of despair on his handsome face! Someone needs to go smash her pathetic little fish stall tomorrow!] The bowl of noodle soup on my table had gone cold and congealed. The greens were wilted; I hadn’t been able to sell them before closing. The sight of it made my stomach turn. Rain dripped from the ceiling, a maddening, incessant beat against my nerves. The screen went dark. I wiped my eyes roughly. The rain had been bad for business lately. If I didn’t open the stall tomorrow, where would the money come from? Suddenly, my phone rang. “Hello? Is this… Iris? The fishmonger?” The man’s voice on the other end had a strange tone. “Tomorrow night at 6, I need your most expensive fish delivered to The Crestmont. I’ll pay you a twenty-dollar delivery fee in cash. Don’t be late, you hear me?” A few of my regular customers had my number. This was a lifeline, enough to get me through tomorrow. “Okay,” I said, my voice hoarse. 03 The Crestmont was a private venue up in the hills. The rain was coming down hard, and the road was poorly lit. My wheel hit a deep pothole. I didn’t even have time to cry out as the handlebars were ripped from my grasp. The little tricycle tipped violently, throwing me to the ground. My right shoulder and hip slammed into the asphalt, a dull throb of bone that made me gasp. I reached down to check, my fingertips coming away wet. I thought it was mud. But in a flash of a distant streetlight, I saw the dark stain of blood. The unsold, rotting vegetables I hadn’t unloaded yet were scattered all over the road. I didn’t break down and cry. Instead, I limped to my feet and crouched down to clean up the mess. On the storm-lashed mountain road, a pair of bright headlights cut through the rain, getting closer. They sliced through the downpour, illuminating my miserable state for the world to see. A Maybach pulled to a smooth stop. Someone stepped out, holding a black umbrella, and walked over to me, shielding me from the rain. I looked up. And just like that, I was staring into the eyes of Asher Ford. He tilted the umbrella slightly, revealing his face. It was the same, yet not the same. His expression was blank, his thin lips parting slightly. “This is the pathetic life you’ve made for yourself without me.” An indescribable sorrow pierced my heart. My hand, gripping the tricycle’s handlebar, turned white. My nails dug deep into my palm. Yes. This was the tenth year since I had abandoned him. This was the pathetic, broken creature I had become, just struggling to survive. Raindrops slid from the edge of his tailored suit jacket. He saw the blood seeping through my pants leg. The ice in his eyes melted, replaced by something sharper, more urgent. He crouched down. The cuff of his expensive trousers dipped into the filthy puddle at his feet. Asher’s hand came to rest on my back, his thumb brushing over my sharp shoulder blade. He paused. “We’re going to the hospital.” A few scrapes. Compared to not being able to afford food after a doctor’s visit… I didn’t have a choice. I struggled, pushing him away. “I’m fine.” Asher’s outstretched hand froze in mid-air. He stared at my face, a bitter, angry smile twisting his lips. His voice was cold. “Ten years, Iris. You’re just as stubborn and ungrateful as you’ve always been.” 04 His words made the color drain from my face. Just then, a young woman got out of the Maybach. She walked straight to Asher’s side. “Asher, everyone’s waiting for us. What’s taking so long?” Her voice was soft, almost a purr. The space under the umbrella suddenly felt crowded. I took a step back. The woman’s eyes flickered over me, a look of disgust flashing across her face as if she’d seen something foul. It was gone so quickly I thought I might have imagined it. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late. It’s your celebration dinner tonight. People will think we’re being divas.” She linked her arm through his. Asher just stared at me, not resisting her touch. The two of them stood there together. His champagne-colored suit, her matching dress. They looked like a perfect couple. My carefully constructed walls of composure began to crumble. I looked down. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m blocking your way.” I turned and scrambled back onto my tricycle, twisting the key. In the rearview mirror, the rain-swept world receded. It had been ten years. I thought I was over it. But in that single moment, the dull ache in my heart became a suffocating agony. I didn’t dare to stop, didn’t dare to look back. The thick fog of rain closed in, separating us completely. 05 The parking lot of The Crestmont was filled with luxury cars. I locked up my tricycle and pushed open the door to the private room. The people inside looked vaguely familiar. It took me a second to realize. They were my old high school classmates. The moment I walked in, the atmosphere froze. A dozen pairs of eyes raked over me, taking in my mud-caked rubber boots, my soaked pants, my wet hair dripping onto the floor. The face reflected in the glass was pale and makeup-free. “Iris?” The woman who had been with Asher stood up. A flash of disgust and excitement crossed her face. “So it was you back there.” Her smile widened. She turned to the others. “See? What did I tell you? Twenty bucks, and she comes running like a dog.” Her tone was light, but the words were dripping with contempt. Her face was unfamiliar, but her voice… suddenly, I knew who she was. After I broke up with Asher, I had gone through a period where anyone and everyone felt they could walk all over me. Sophia had dragged me into the school bathroom and held my head under the faucet. Her friends had pinned me down while she ground her heel into my hand. Then she’d crouched down, slapping me over and over. “You love pretending to be so pure to seduce Asher, don’t you? Go on, cry. Let’s see if he comes to save you now.” Ten years later, the memory still made my hands tremble. I fought back the wave of nausea rising in my throat. “Is there a Mr. Collins here? I have your order.” A man stood up. I recognized him. Mark Collins. He had been one of Sophia’s admirers back in the day. “Wow, Iris. Look at you. Is there even any point in living like this?” “Yeah, if I were her, I’d find a ditch to jump into. Or… I guess some things are easy to sell. Deliver a fish, and maybe something else on the side?” A wave of low, cruel laughter spread through the room. Someone whispered, “When Asher gets here and sees her looking like this, he’s going to puke.” At that, a look of pure, unadulterated pleasure crossed Sophia’s face. I had to get paid. I had to get out of there before Asher arrived. I swallowed my pride. I held out the fish. “Your order is here. Who’s paying?” Mark, trying to look like a big shot, pulled out his phone. “Fifty bucks. Keep the change.” He leered at me, his eyes roaming my body. “You’re cheap anyway.” Amidst a chorus of lewd chuckles, I pulled out my own phone, the screen a spiderweb of cracks, and opened the payment app. “This is a wild-caught yellow croaker. It’s five hundred dollars a pound.” 06 The laughter died instantly. Mark was the first to react. “What?! Five hundred a pound?!” Sophia frowned, her face a mask of disdain. “Iris, I know things are tough for you, but you can’t just scam your old classmates. It’s not like any of us have money to burn.” My patience was gone. “That’s the market price.” Mark’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment. He lunged forward and slapped my phone out of my hand. The old, fragile thing went flying. He gave me a hard shove. “You greedy bitch! Are you out of your fucking mind?!” I stumbled and fell. The black bag holding the fish hit a display shelf, sending a cascade of porcelain crashing to the floor. The expensive fish flopped wildly on the ground, its struggles spattering stinking water and slime everywhere. Sophia shrieked, staring in horror at a fish scale that had landed on her dress. “This is custom-made! Asher ordered it for me! Did you do this on purpose?” Someone threw a wad of napkins at me. “Do you have any idea how much that dress costs? You couldn’t afford it in a hundred lifetimes, you worthless trash!” Others chimed in. “People like her are just full of petty jealousy. Get on your knees and clean it up!” “She’s still the same as she was in high school. Poor, dirty, and pathetic.” The red tablecloth lay at my feet like a pool of blood. I reached for my phone, wanting to call the police. Someone playfully stuck out a foot, kicking the battered phone across the floor. The battery popped out. I scrambled to get it, but someone pinned me down. Every nerve in my body was screaming. Creeak. The door to the room opened. A tall figure was silhouetted against the light from the hallway. An expensive suit jacket framed a perfect physique. A pair of beautiful eyes found mine. There was no warmth in them. Only a cold, detached indifference. His gaze was as heavy as the storm outside, soaking the last tattered shreds of my dignity. The world went silent. I could barely breathe. “What are you all doing?” His voice was quiet, but it carried an undeniable weight. 07 I lowered my head and picked up the pieces of my phone. Asher stopped, the tip of his expensive shoe nearly touching my cheap rubber boot. Amid the stench of fish, I could smell the clean, woody scent of his cologne. His long, elegant hand opened, palm up. “Your number.” Every eye in the room snapped to us. Sophia bit her lip. “Asher, Mark was just trying to help an old classmate out, but she tried to take advantage…” Asher tapped his phone a few times. A cold, mechanical voice cut through her words. [Payment received: $3,000.] His face was unreadable. “I’m paying.” Under the weight of everyone’s stares, I avoided his eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered. My knee throbbed where I’d fallen. I staggered to my feet and turned to leave. Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets. It ran into my eyes, stinging. The cuts on my palms were starting to bleed again. At least I got paid. I let out a long, shaky breath. 08 The truth was, shortly after we broke up, my family went bankrupt. My father took his mistress and fled the country. He had already transferred all his assets. He didn’t leave a single penny for my sister and me. My sister’s health was poor, and over the years, she had only gotten sicker. I told myself that on my way to the hospital, I would buy her a pretty hair clip. The roar of an engine grew closer. That Maybach cut me off again. Asher’s face was dark. “Get in the car.” I said nothing. He frowned, letting out an impatient sigh. “Iris, do you have to be so stubborn?” People were starting to stare. He was a public figure now. A scene would be bad for him. Just as I was about to get in, my phone buzzed with a piercing ringtone. I fumbled to answer it. “Miss Miller? It’s the hospital. Your sister’s condition has taken a turn for the worse. You need to get here immediately.” A roar filled my ears. Those words shattered what little strength I had left. “What’s wrong?” Asher’s eyes flickered to my screen, and from my devastated reaction, he knew. “I’ll take you to the hospital.” I didn’t resist this time. I got in the car. In the hospital room, the nurse’s expression was full of pity. “We were able to stabilize her, but the kidney failure is progressing faster than we thought…” She paused, the unspoken words heavy in the air. “The money you paid last month just covered her basic treatment. The cost of the transplant evaluation and finding a match is… substantial. You need to start thinking about how you’re going to manage it.” I barely heard the rest. My mind was a chaotic mess. The beep of the monitor was a cold, steady rhythm. Lily lay on the bed, so small and fragile, the IV tubes like vines, tethering her to this world. So thin, so small, so young. Like a porcelain doll. I didn’t even dare to touch her hand. When I looked up, Asher was gone. I closed the door to her room and went to the stairwell. Every step felt like I was walking on cotton. I crouched in a corner, burying my face in my knees. And finally, I let myself cry in silence. For ten years, the only thing that had kept me going was my sister. But the mountain of medical bills was crushing me. What was I going to do? 09 Click. The stairwell door opened. Asher stood there. He saw my tear-streaked face and quickly looked away, shielding me from the view of the nurse behind him. He handed her something. “She’s not here. Could you please give this to her later?” He didn’t look at me again as he closed the door. I quickly wiped my eyes and went back to the room. The nurse handed me a few thin receipts. “The gentleman who was just here asked me to give you these.” She gave me a kind smile. “Also, your sister will be moved to our best private room today.” My hands trembled as I looked at the receipts. The pre-paid amount was a number that made my head spin. Ten years of bitterness. When we broke up, he had hated me. Hated me enough to wish me dead. But today, he had paid for everything without a second thought. I stumbled out of the stairwell and ran. His tall, straight back was just at the end of the hallway. “Asher!” My voice was breathless from running. The empty corridor was bathed in a sterile, white light that illuminated the detached expression on his face. “Thank you.” Meeting his deep, dark eyes, I clenched the hem of my shirt. “I’ll find a way to pay you back. I can write an IOU, with interest…” Before I could finish, he let out a short, sharp laugh. “Do you really think I care about the interest?” He took a step closer, his eyes like daggers. “Lily is like a sister to me. She used to call me her big brother. So swallow your pathetic pride. This has nothing to do with you.” I bit my lip, humiliated. Asher tossed a paper bag at me. “Antiseptic.” He turned and walked away without another word. Only then did I feel the stinging, burning pain in my leg. It was a scene that felt strangely familiar. Years ago, during gym class, I had scraped my leg and was sitting alone in the shade. A shadow fell over me. The sunlight dappled through the leaves, landing on Asher’s white shirt. He held out a paper bag. “This kind disinfects faster. It doesn’t hurt as much.” He had rolled up my pant leg and knelt at my feet, carefully cleaning the wound. His thin lips were set in a serious line, but they had a faint, reddish tint. On impulse, I had leaned in and kissed him. A light, fleeting touch. He had looked up, the tips of his ears bright red, but his gaze was steady. “That’s not how you do it,” he’d said. “Let me teach you.” But then… Everything had gone wrong.

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My college roommate loved to label people. On the first day of school, she took one look at my designer outfit, rolled her eyes, and sneered, “Fake-brand freak.” To prove to everyone else that her “expert eye” was never wrong, she grabbed my handbag and took a pair of scissors directly to it. She laughed. “Real cowhide is soft and supple. This thing is stiff as a board. It’s obviously fake. Even if I cut up a hundred of these, I could easily afford to pay you back.” Just as the words left her mouth, my nanny pushed open the dorm room door. “You’re absolutely right, miss. It isn’t cowhide, because it’s crocodile skin.” She held up her phone, displaying a black digital wallet interface. “I am Mia’s nanny. You can transfer the funds directly to me. The total is $240,000.” 01 Freshmen were required to complete a month of basic training. To save me from getting sunburned, my mom arranged for me to arrive on campus on the very last day of training. She also insisted on sending Martha, the nanny who practically raised me, to live nearby and take care of my daily needs. And so, there we were in the dorm room. After Martha meticulously cleaned and made my bed, she carefully sorted the small welcome gifts she had prepared. She advised me, “Since you’re arriving late, Mia, giving these perfumes and face creams to your roommates is a good way to build goodwill and integrate faster.” I frowned. “Helena Rubinstein? Isn’t that a bit too cheap?” Martha quickly shook her head. “If you want to experience normal college life, you can’t give them anything too expensive.” I nodded, conceding the point. “Alright, you should go now. They’ll be back soon. You can come back when the room is empty.” 02 After Martha left, I excitedly inspected the dorm room. I had been pampered and sheltered by my parents since I was born. Driven everywhere by a chauffeur, constantly accompanied by a nanny at home. It was incredibly boring. So, for college, I insisted on living in the dorms to finally experience communal student life. But my excitement only lasted a few seconds before I noticed something. One of my roommates had several high-end knockoff designer bags sitting on her desk. Immediately after, the dorm door was pushed open. Two deeply tanned girls walked in. They looked exhausted, but their eyes lit up the moment they saw me. They asked excitedly, “Are you our last roommate, Mia Sterling?” One of them, a very skinny girl, looked me up and down. She gasped, “Oh my god, you look perfectly put together, like a rich heiress from a TV show!” The other chimed in, equally enthusiastic, “Yeah, exactly! Your skin is literally glowing.” She gently poked my arm. And squealed, “You’re so soft!” Seeing how cheerful and outgoing they were, I couldn’t help but laugh along. I handed them the gift bags Martha had prepared. “It’s an honor to be your roommate. I look forward to getting along with you all.” Just as the words left my mouth, the door banged open. A girl who had clearly been rigorous about her sun protection, looking quite glamorous, strutted into the room. She gave me a single, sweeping glance. Then drawled lazily, “Fake-brand freak.” She walked straight over to the desk with the knockoff bags and sat down. 03 The cheerful atmosphere instantly evaporated, replaced by suffocating awkwardness. The skinny roommate tugged my sleeve and whispered kindly, “Chloe Vance comes from a really rich family too. She just has a terrible temper. Try not to let her get to you.” She then peeked into the gift bag, pulling out the face cream, and gasped loudly. “Oh my god, Mia, are you actually a real-life heiress?! You’re giving us Helena Rubinstein ‘Black Bandage’ cream on the first day?! Holy crap!!!” The other roommate joined in the exaggerated gratitude. “Lord above, has the trope of ‘rich heiress’s loyal sidekick’ finally chosen me?!” She dramatically dropped to one knee. “My lady, I am your humble servant. Should you require anything in the future, please do not hesitate to command me.” Her comedic timing was perfect. The three of us burst into laughter. But Chloe, sitting off to the side, suddenly grabbed the gift bag I had placed on her desk and violently smashed it onto the floor. She snapped at the other two, “Are you two actually that broke? Someone throws a little fake garbage at you, and you drop to your knees acting like grateful dogs?” Her voice was shrill and grating. “I should just start calling you two broke little mutts. You’ll accept anyone as your master. If someone fed you shit, you’d probably wag your tails happily.” Furious at her absolute rudeness, I demanded, “What gives you the right to say these are fake?” Chloe didn’t even blink. “Because my mom has gone through over a hundred jars of that stuff! I can spot a fake a mile away!” As if she needed to prove a point, she grabbed the handbag sitting on my desk and held it up to the other two roommates. “Do you two even know what this logo means?” They shook their heads. She scoffed. “Hermès. I went shopping at their boutique with my mom right before the semester started, and they absolutely did not have this model.” She slammed the bag back onto the desk. “You desperate poser.” “I’ve seen millions of girls like you. You’re just trying to fake a wealthy persona so you can snag a sugar daddy!” “If you’re so rich, why the hell are you living in a dorm? Why didn’t your parents just buy you a penthouse near campus?” Seeing my face flush red, she looked incredibly smug. “What? Did I hit a nerve? Are you triggered?” To definitively prove her point, she dug a pair of scissors out of her desk. She grabbed my bag and drove the scissors right into it. With several forceful slashes, the bag was covered in jagged, deep cuts. Chloe panted slightly from the effort. “See?! Real Hermès bags are made of premium cowhide! They’re soft! This piece of garbage is stiff as a board. It’s obviously fake.” She glared at me triumphantly. “I’ve seen plenty of girls trying to fake it till they make it.” “Running into me is your worst nightmare!” She pulled out her phone, looking down at me with absolute arrogance. “Give me your Zelle or Venmo.” “For a fake piece of trash like this, even if I cut up a hundred of them, I could easily afford to pay you back.” Right at that moment, Martha, carrying a beautifully crafted insulated lunchbox, appeared in the doorway, her face dark as a thundercloud. I knew this was bad. That bag was my birthday present from Martha. She had saved up for over half a year to buy it for me. Her heart had to be breaking. I expected her to completely lose her temper. But she maintained her elegant, refined composure perfectly. “You’re absolutely right, miss. It isn’t cowhide, because it’s crocodile skin.” “And it makes perfect sense that you haven’t seen it, because it’s an unreleased model from next spring’s collection.” She pulled out her phone, displaying a black digital wallet interface indicating an ultra-high-tier account. “I am Mia’s nanny. You can transfer the funds directly to me. The total is $240,000.” Seeing Chloe freeze in shock, she added smoothly, “With how arrogant you’re acting, surely you wouldn’t have trouble producing such a trivial amount, right?” 04 Martha’s presence was incredibly intimidating. The black digital wallet interface instantly shattered Chloe’s arrogant facade. But she quickly recovered her composure, letting out a harsh scoff. “Wow, you scammers are getting bold, bringing your operations straight onto a college campus now?” “You carry a fake bag, hire some older woman to act as a prop, and have the audacity to try and extort me for $240,000?” She crossed her arms, glaring at me with absolute contempt. “You pathetic little sugar baby. The real reason you skipped basic training for a month was probably because you were recovering from an abortion…” She didn’t get to finish the sentence. A sharp, resounding slap echoed through the room, landing squarely on her face. Martha completely dropped her elegant, polite demeanor. She snapped sharply, “Who the hell do you think you are, spewing that kind of garbage in front of my lady?!” “Throwing around the term ‘sugar baby’—what, is that how your mother managed to birth you?!” Her tone was deadly serious. “Take a good look in the mirror at your own pathetic behavior. Your mother clearly couldn’t land a decent sugar daddy, which is why you turned out so completely classless!” After finishing her tirade, she pulled a wet wipe from her bag. And began methodically wiping her hand. “If I ever hear you spreading malicious rumors again, I will personally tear your mouth off.” 05 For a moment, you could hear a pin drop in the dorm room. My eyes widened in absolute shock. Growing up, Martha had always been the epitome of refined, gentle grace around me. I had no idea she could be this devastatingly brutal when angry. I gave her a massive thumbs-up. She really earned her title as the elite nanny who had successfully navigated the vicious infighting of my mother’s aristocratic family. Her combat effectiveness was off the charts. Meanwhile, Chloe, who had been completely stunned by the slap, absolutely exploded when she saw my thumbs-up. She never anticipated that Martha would actually hit her. And she definitely didn’t expect me to so blatantly cheer Martha on right in front of her face. She lunged forward, ready to retaliate. She shrieked, “Do you have any idea who I am?! How dare you hit me!” She threw all her weight into it, looking like she wanted to slap Martha into a bloody pulp. But I was honestly more worried for her safety than Martha’s. Because in her youth, Martha had been the national kickboxing champion four years in a row. And exactly as I predicted… The very next second, Martha easily caught Chloe’s wrist, raised her other hand, and delivered another brutal slap. This time, the force sent Chloe crashing to the floor. Martha commanded, “I don’t give a damn who you are. If you dare insult my lady, you are asking for a beating!” 06 The explosive argument quickly drew a crowd of students from neighboring dorms, who gathered around our open door. A few girls who were friends with Chloe pushed their way to the front, shielding her, and yelled at Martha, “Who gave you the right to come onto a college campus and assault a student?!” “It’s just a cheap, fake bag! Chloe’s family owns over a dozen coal mines; do you really think she’d misidentify it?” “It’s obvious you two targeted her because she’s rich and tried to scam her, and when she exposed you, you lost your minds!” The others in the crowd quickly chimed in. “Yeah, exactly! Forget $240,000; even if it was $2 million, Chloe wouldn’t even blink.” “Trying to run a scam with a fake bag—do you think rich people are idiots?!” Everyone was shouting at once. It felt like they wanted to drown Martha and me in their self-righteous spit. Meanwhile, the skinny roommate nervously tugged on my shirt and whispered a warning. “Mia, maybe you should just apologize to Chloe. She holds massive grudges. A few days ago during training, the girl standing in front of her accidentally stepped on her shoe. Chloe relentlessly bullied her until the girl was forced to drop out of school entirely.” Just as she finished speaking, Martha’s phone flash went off. She laughed cheerfully. “No problem! I’m just taking a quick photo. Later, when the police order Ms. Vance to pay for the damages, I hope all of you currently defending her are willing to chip in and help her cover the cost!” “Don’t try to run away when the bill comes due!” The moment she said that, the crowd instantly went silent. This infuriated Chloe even more. She violently shoved away the girl who had been defending her and screamed, “What the hell are you waiting for?! Call the police! I am going to prove to every single person here today that I was right!” Hearing that, I smiled and pulled out my phone. “Don’t bother. I already called them.”

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On the day of the Spring Festival Gala, my childhood best friend’s microphone suddenly malfunctioned, causing a massive broadcasting disaster that earned her nationwide condemnation. Mysteriously, I also lost my voice on the same day and was subsequently sued by the production company for a staggering breach of contract fee. Unable to pay the debt, I was sentenced to prison. Before turning myself in, I sent my husband and son abroad.

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“When is he finally going to get the hint and leave?” The voice coming from the breakroom wasn’t loud, but in the sterile silence of the hallway, every syllable landed with the weight of a stone. I stood frozen near the doorway, my ceramic mug tight in my hand. I didn’t breathe. “Soon, surely. It’s been three months.” “I’ll bet you a steak dinner he’s gone by Friday.” “You’re on.” I turned on my heel and walked back to my desk. My desk was situated directly next to the men’s restroom. The air there always carried a faint, chemical tang of industrial cleaner and stale plumbing, twenty-four hours a day. I sat down, woke my computer, and continued working on my spreadsheets. No one knew what I had been documenting every single day for the past three months. And no one knew how long the list of names was that I would be reading aloud at the Holiday Gala. 1. My name is Gavin Calloway. I am thirty-two years old. Three months ago, I was transferred to this branch office with the nebulous title of “Specialist.” I had no specific job description, no clear line of reporting, and not even a permanent ID badge. HR’s explanation was smooth and practiced: “It’s a transition period, Gavin. Just take some time to settle in.” I didn’t ask what “transition period” meant. I didn’t ask what I was supposed to be settling into. I just clocked in at nine sharp, sat at my desk, and built spreadsheets that nobody asked for. The first week, a few people offered tentative hellos. By the second week, the greetings evaporated. By the third week, the entire department—over twenty people—acted as if I were a ghost haunting the cubicles. If I walked down the aisle, they parted. If I sat in the breakroom, voices dropped to a hush. If I entered the kitchen, the laughter died instantly. I’m not stupid. I knew exactly what was happening. But I didn’t say a word. I just came in, did the work, and went home. On a Monday morning, I found my belongings in a box. My desk had been moved. Originally, I had a view of the parking lot; now, I was wedged against the wall sharing a partition with the restroom. “Mr. Calloway,” the administrative assistant said, her smile brittle and overly sweet. “It’s much quieter over here. We thought it would suit you better.” I looked at her. I didn’t say a thing. Fine. Move me. I carried my monitor over, arranged my binders, and went back to work. The restroom door opened and closed all day, wafting drafts of air freshener and dampness. People walked by, covering their noses and snickering. I pretended I was deaf and blind. At noon, the department had a team lunch. I was the last to know. Correction: I didn’t “know.” I discovered it. At twelve-thirty, the bullpen was a ghost town. I went to refill my water and heard the faint ding of the elevator and the echo of raucous laughter fading down the shaft. Back at my desk, I checked the group chat on my phone. A photo had just been posted. “Lunch on Director Hanes! Bottoms up!” The picture showed a table groaning under plates of appetizers, twenty-odd people raising wine glasses, beaming at the camera. I scrolled up. No one had tagged me. No one had typed, Hey Gavin, are you coming? It was a total erasure of my existence. They returned at two o’clock. Brett Cavallari, the Marketing Manager, led the pack. His face was flushed with expensive Cabernet. He paused as he passed my exile by the bathroom. “Oh! Gavin! You didn’t come to lunch?” I looked up from my screen. “Nobody invited me.” He blinked, a theatrical performance of surprise, before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Ah, damn. Slipped my mind. Next time, buddy.” He walked away. I lowered my head and resumed typing. A colleague in the next cubicle whispered, “God, stop acting like a victim. Waiting for an engraved invitation?” Another voice giggled. “He’s got thick skin. Let him rot.” I didn’t turn around. Instead, I opened a fresh, blank document. On the first line, I typed: December 3rd. Department Lunch. Expense Account Misuse. Exclusionary Tactics. Then I listed their names, one by one. Save. Close. Return to the spreadsheets. At four o’clock, I finished a comprehensive market analysis report. This was work I had found for myself; nobody had assigned it, nobody expected it. But I did it, and I did it with precision. I emailed the PDF to Brett Cavallari and cc’d Director Hanes. “Brett, attached is the Q4 market data analysis for your review.” Five minutes later, Brett replied. “Received.” One word. The next day, I saw the report on Director Hanes’s LinkedIn feed. The caption read: “Incredible work by the Cavallari Team! This depth of analysis is world-class!” The comments section was a chorus of praise. “Brett is a machine!” “Great leadership, Brett!” “Detailed and sharp. Kudos to the team!” I opened the PDF attached to the post. On the title page, my name was gone. It now read: Author: The Cavallari Team. I stared at those words for a long time. The screen blurred slightly, then sharpened again. I opened my private document. New line. December 4th. Intellectual Property Theft. Plagiarism. Brett Cavallari. Save. Close. The pattern repeated itself over the next few days. My slide deck became Lisa’s presentation. My data cleanup became Ryan’s “initiative.” My strategic proposal became “Departmental Collective Wisdom.” Every single time, I wrote it down. Date. Content. Personnel involved. Item by item. Crystal clear. On Friday afternoon, Brett called me into his office. “Gavin.” He was leaning back in his leather chair, ankle resting on his knee, looking every inch the king of his little kingdom. “How long have you been with us?” “Three weeks.” “How’s it feeling?” “It’s fine.” He smiled, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. It was a shark’s smile. “Fine? You think your performance is ‘fine’?” I stayed silent. “Gavin, let me be level with you.” He leaned forward, dropping the casual facade. “You don’t fit in here. The culture… it’s not for you.” “Oh.” “Look at you. You’re antisocial. You’re passive. You sit there alone all day like a piece of furniture.” “Okay.” “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” I looked him in the eye, keeping my voice flat. “Brett, what would you like me to say?” He scoffed, a short, sharp sound. “I want you to have some self-awareness. If you were smart, you’d draft a resignation letter today. The company will give you a severance package. Walk away with some dignity.” “And if I don’t?” “If you don’t?” He leaned back again, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Then don’t blame me for what happens next. I won’t be polite about it.” I stood up. “Okay. I understand.” “Understand what?” “That you won’t be polite.” I walked out and closed the door softly behind me. Back at my desk, I opened the document. December 8th. Verbal intimidation. Coercion to resign. Threat of retaliation. Brett Cavallari. Save. Close. I glanced at the calendar on the wall. Three months. It was enough time. 2. By the fourth week, the isolation mutated into active hostility. It wasn’t just ignoring me anymore. Meetings happened without me. My reimbursement requests were “accidentally” lost. The printer jammed every time I sent a document, and miraculously fixed itself when Lisa walked up. When I requested basic office supplies, the system rejected me. I bought my own stapler. My own pens. I even brought in a ream of paper from home. One afternoon, I went to the admin desk to ask for a notebook. The assistant, Becca, gave me that plastic smile again. “Mr. Calloway, I don’t see a request in the portal.” “I submitted it last week.” She shrugged. “Glitch in the system, maybe? Try again.” I submitted it again. A week later, still nothing. I stopped asking. I went to the CVS downstairs, bought a three-pack of spiral notebooks, and used those. On Wednesday afternoon, I overheard the betting pool in the breakroom. “I bet he quits this week.” “I say next week.” “What’s the wager?” “Ruth’s Chris. Steak and martinis. Winner takes all.” “Deal.” I stood outside the door, holding my empty mug, motionless. They hadn’t seen me. “Why doesn’t he just leave? It’s pathetic. He’s got no pride.” “Probably holding out for the severance.” “Severance? Who does he think he is? He’s a nobody.” Laughter. Sharp and jagged. I turned around, making my footsteps soft on the carpet. Back at my desk, I opened the document. December 11th. Hostile work environment. Betting pool on employee termination. Harassment. Save. I looked at the screen and felt a small, cold smile touch my lips. Steak dinner. Sounds nice. I’ll be treating you all soon enough. That afternoon, Brett made his move. The Monthly Department All-Hands meeting. Mandatory for everyone. Ten minutes before the hour, the office began to stir. People were grabbing notepads and laptops. I turned to Ryan in the next cubicle. “Is there a meeting?” He glanced at me, eyes sliding away, and grabbed his coffee. Didn’t say a word. Just walked off. I stood up and caught Lisa in the hallway. “Lisa, what time is the meeting? Which conference room?” Lisa didn’t even break stride. “I don’t know.” I stood there in the aisle, watching them file out, one by one, disappearing around the corner like a receding tide. The office fell silent. Just me. I checked my email. No invite. I checked the Slack channel. Nothing. I sat back down. December 12th. Exclusion from mandatory all-hands meeting. deliberate obstruction of information. I thought for a moment, then typed: Meeting agenda: TBD. Thirty minutes later, they flooded back. Brett was at the front, looking annoyed about something. He stopped when he saw me. “Gavin. Why weren’t you at the meeting?” I looked up. “I wasn’t invited.” “We sent the invite,” he said, frowning with exaggerated confusion. “It was on the group calendar.” “I checked. It wasn’t.” “Well, maybe you just missed it.” His tone dripped with condescension. “Pay closer attention next time.” I didn’t argue. He walked away. I pulled out my phone and took a screenshot of the group calendar. Empty. I took a screenshot of my inbox. Empty. I dragged the images into a secure folder. Evidence +1. Friday was my birthday. No one knew. No one asked. I sat by the restroom, eating a cold turkey sandwich from the vending machine, staring out the window. The sky was the color of wet concrete, matching the endless sprawl of office parks. I was thirty-two. Ten years ago, I was fresh out of college, hungry and ambitious. Five years ago, I was in middle management, feeling like I owned the world. One year ago, I was transferred here to start over. Now, I was the guy by the toilet eating a vending machine sandwich on his birthday. My phone pinged. An email. Sender: HR Subject: [Action Required] Exit Interview Schedule I clicked it open. Mr. Calloway, please report to HR on December 15th at 3:00 PM for your exit interview. I stared at the screen. An exit interview. They hadn’t even fired me yet. They hadn’t even spoken to me. They just sent the invite, assuming I would break. I didn’t reply. I opened my document. December 13th. Preemptive termination procedure. Constructive discharge attempt. I closed the laptop. I stood up, grabbed my coat, and walked out. The elevator was empty. I caught my reflection in the polished steel doors. I looked tired, but my eyes were clear. Three weeks down. They didn’t know who I was. They didn’t know why I was here. And they certainly didn’t know what was going to happen at the Holiday Gala in three months. I pressed the button for the lobby. No rush. Let them dig the hole a little deeper. 3. I arrived at the exit interview exactly on time. The HR Manager, Pamela, was in her early thirties, rimless glasses, soft cardigan. She looked harmless. But her opening line told me everything I needed to know. “Gavin, sit.” I sat. She shuffled a file folder, then looked up with a practiced grimace. “Gavin, you’ve been with the branch for almost a month.” “Yes.” “How are you finding it?” “It’s fine.” She smiled, a tight, corporate expression. “Gavin, I’ll be direct. The company isn’t satisfied with your performance.” “Specifically?” “Across the board.” She gestured vaguely. “You don’t integrate with the team. You’re passive. Your output is low…” I cut her off. “The Q4 Market Analysis that Director Hanes posted on LinkedIn? I wrote that.” She paused, blinking rapidly. “That… I believe that was a Cavallari Team effort.” “The byline said Cavallari Team. The author was me.” She frowned. “Do you have proof?” I laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound. “Pamela, I’m here to listen to you, not argue. Please, continue.” She looked unsettled but quickly recovered her script. “Regardless, the consensus is that it would be best if you initiated your resignation. We can offer you a severance package—two weeks’ pay—to help with the transition.” “And if I don’t?” “If you don’t?” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Then it gets messy. You know how these things go. Performance improvement plans, documentation…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but the threat was loud and clear. Leave, or we will make your life hell until you break. I stood up. “Okay. I understand.” “Think it over. Let me know by tomorrow.” “I don’t need to think it over.” “Excuse me?”

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At the high school reunion, I scrolled past a post from the girl who used to make my life a living hell. [Ran into the girl I hated most in high school tonight. Seeing how pathetic her life turned out? Honestly, it’s better than sex.] The comment section was a sea of “LOLs” and “Karma is a queen.” I stared at the screen for a moment, then quietly typed out a reply: “By ‘hated,’ do you mean the way you turned the entire class against her? Or how you knew she and her best friend were in love, but you used the ‘just one of the guys’ act to wedge yourself between them until she was forced to move across the ocean just to breathe?” The second I hit send, the comment vanished. Deleted. I looked up to see Becca’s smirking face. “Joanna! God, you look so… modest,” she said, her voice dripping with that fake-sweet honey. “Is life in London that hard? I mean, look at you. No jewelry, no designer tags.” She leaned in, making sure the people at the nearby tables could hear. “Are you even married? Do you have a boyfriend? Or are you still just drifting, waiting in breadlines or something? If you can’t hack it over there, just come home. We won’t laugh at you. Or is the reason you stayed away for ten years because you’re still holding a grudge against me?” The room went dead silent. A dozen pairs of eyes—eyes that had watched me crumble a decade ago—were suddenly fixed on me, filled with the same old mix of malice and pity. But I wasn’t that trembling girl anymore. I didn’t flush, and I didn’t cry. I didn’t bother telling them that I owned the car I arrived in, the house I grew up in, and, incidentally, the very hotel they were holding this reunion in. I just looked Becca in the eye and asked one thing: “And what about you, Becca? It’s been ten years. Are you and Steve finally together, or are you still just ‘one of the bros’?” 1 The temperature in the room plummeted. Steve, my childhood best friend whom I hadn’t seen in a decade, finally stepped out of the shadows. He looked older, tired, but he still had that same defensive edge. “Jo, don’t start,” he said, his voice tight. “Becca and I are just friends. We’ve always been just friends. I know you’re still stuck in the past, but it’s been forever. I wanted to get everyone together so we could finally clear the air. Let’s just move past this, okay?” Becca seized the moment, raising her glass with a practiced, casual air—the same “tomboy” act she’d perfected in eleventh grade. “Come on, Jo. We were kids. If I did anything to offend your delicate sensibilities back then, let it go. I’ve always been blunt; I don’t do the whole ‘passive-aggressive girl’ drama.” The table erupted in supportive murmurs. “Exactly. Don’t be so sensitive, Jo. Becca’s always been one of us.” “Seriously, who keeps a grudge for ten years? It’s a bit pathetic.” “Becca was the one who insisted on inviting you. Don’t be ungrateful.” They framed her “invitation”—which was really just a summons to be mocked—as an act of charity. They expected me to clink glasses and play along, as if my silence was a debt I owed them. But I’ve never been good at doing what’s expected. I didn’t touch my drink. I just said quietly, “I can’t. I’m pregnant.” Clatter. Steve’s glass hit the floor, shattering against the hardwood. The table went still. Only Becca couldn’t hide the flash of genuine triumph in her eyes. Steve forced a jagged, painful smile. “If you don’t want to drink, just say so. You don’t have to make up a lie like that.” “I’m not lying,” I said calmly. “I’m married. I’m pregnant. I’m only back in the States to help my husband settle some business acquisitions.” Becca’s voice was practically singing now. “Oh my god! When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell us? Congratulations, Jo!” It was the most honest thing she’d said all night. She was thrilled because, in her mind, the threat was gone. She wouldn’t have to pretend to be Steve’s “bro” anymore to keep him from me. Steve sounded like he’d swallowed glass. “Married… but you always said… you said you’d be my bride one day, Jo. You’re kidding, right?” One of the guys at the table scoffed. “Jesus, Jo. Why are you doing this? Steve’s been waiting for you for years. Everyone knows he never moved on.” He leaned forward, his tone patronizing. “Look, if you came here to make him jealous, it worked. But don’t ruin your life over a tantrum. A woman needs to know when to stop playing games if she wants a happy ending. Don’t blow it with a guy like Steve. You won’t find another one.” I remembered these people. I remembered how their words felt like sandpaper on raw skin. Now, they just felt like static. I smiled, a cold, empty thing. “I really am married. And as for those things I said when we were kids? It was just a joke, Steve.” I looked him right in the eye, handing him back the exact words he’d used to destroy me ten years ago. “You’re not going to be a baby about a little joke, are you?” 2 Steve and I were the “it” version of childhood sweethearts. We were inseparable from kindergarten through the start of high school. Our lives were a single thread. Until Becca moved to town. She was loud, athletic, and claimed she “only got along with guys because girls were too much drama.” She worked her way into the center of the boys’ circle, and that included Steve. Suddenly, they were sitting together in every class. They were gaming together until 2 AM. Our walk home, which used to be our sacred time, turned into a trio. At first, I tried to be the “cool friend.” I didn’t want to be the jealous girl. That changed the day Becca “accidentally” knocked my ceramic water bottle off my desk. It shattered into a million pieces. It was part of a matching set Steve and I had bought together. Becca gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my god, Jo! I’m so sorry! I’ll buy you a new one, I swear. Don’t be mad!” I shook my head, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s fine. It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” Becca leaned down, her voice dropping to a whisper that only I could hear. “I’ll get you a new one. I know how you girls are—saying it’s fine to my face then crying to Steve about how mean I am behind my back.” I froze. “What?” She stood up and shouted to the room, “See? Look at that face! She’s totally mad. Jo, it’s just a bottle. Just tell me to buy you a new one instead of doing the whole two-faced thing. I seriously can’t stand girls who won’t just be real.” She nudged Steve with her elbow. “Hey, Steve, tell your princess to cheer up before she goes home and tells on me.” Steve looked uncomfortable, but he shrugged. “Come on, Jo. Don’t be like that. It’s just a bottle. I’ll buy you another one. It wasn’t even expensive.” “Steve,” I said, my heart sinking. “Do you really think I’m being petty right now?” I felt the blood rush to my face. “I’ll buy my own bottle. I don’t need anything from either of you.” Steve started to apologize, seeing the look on my face, but Becca threw her arm around his neck, pulling him away. “Whoops! The Princess is officially in a mood! Run for it, Steve, before she turns us into frogs. We’ll apologize when she’s finished her tantrum.” And just like that, I had a new nickname: Her Highness. If I handed out papers for a teacher, they’d whisper, “Watch out, don’t let Her Highness break a nail.” If I went to the bathroom, they’d line up in the hallway, snickering. “Make way! The Royal Procession is passing through!” The hallway became a gauntlet of muffled laughs and sidelong glances. Steve saw it all. He did nothing. Later, when I tried to talk to him, he just sighed with annoyance. “Jo, stop acting like a princess. You don’t have the crown for it, but you sure have the attitude.” 3 The cold war began then. Steve and I stopped talking, and Becca took that as a green light to escalate. If I wore a cute keychain on my bag, she’d point it out in the middle of the cafeteria. “Oh wow, Jo! Is that a Sailor Moon charm? Do you actually think you’re a magical girl, or are you just that desperate for attention?” The boys at the table would howl with laughter. If I wiped down my desk before lunch, she’d roll her eyes. “God, you’re such a try-hard. Do you think the rest of us are beneath you? If we’re too dirty for you, go get a private tutor and stay home. Why are you even here?” The other girls, sensing the social shift, started looking at me with sharpened eyes. During our weekly seat change, I was struggling to move a heavy stack of textbooks. Becca leaned her elbow on the books I hadn’t picked up yet and put on a high-pitched, mocking voice. “Oh heavens! I’m simply exhausted! Is there a loyal servant in the room willing to carry Her Highness’s heavy burdens?” The classroom exploded in laughter. It was a sharp, jagged sound that felt like it was drilling into my skull. Some people actually started mimicking my walk. Steve didn’t look back. He just muttered, “That’s enough, Becca.” Becca rolled her eyes. “Oh, look. Someone’s getting soft again.” Steve snapped. “I’m not soft! I’m not worried about her. She’s just a brat.” Becca grinned, satisfied. “Exactly. We’re just trying to toughen her up, Steve. She’s too sensitive. If she can’t handle us, how is she going to handle the real world?” Steve hesitated. “I mean, it’s okay for girls to be a little soft, isn’t it?” Becca punched his arm. “Who are you calling soft? I’m a girl, and I’m not like that!” Steve looked at her, and I saw the way he smiled—with total, easy trust. It felt like a physical blow to my chest. I thought if I just ignored them, the bullying would stop. But a month into our silence, Steve broke. He came to me, looking like a kicked puppy. “Jo, please. Don’t be mad anymore. Talk to me.” His eyes were soft, pleading. And because I was young and stupid, my heart melted. We had been together since we were toddlers. We were supposed to go to college together. I couldn’t just leave him behind. So, we “made up.” At least on the surface. I went back to sitting in the bleachers during his games, holding his jacket. We walked home under the streetlights again. But Becca was always there in the background, watching us with that knowing smirk. Whenever she caught my eye, she’d burst into laughter with the guys around her. It made me feel naked. Like I was a joke everyone was in on except for me. I tried to tell Steve how I felt. He just frowned. “You’re overthinking it, Jo. They’re just messing around.” When he saw the look on my face, he softened his voice. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell them to knock it off when you’re around.” He walked over to Becca and whispered something. She scoffed, her voice ringing out for everyone to hear. “Oh, god! We can’t even laugh now? Does she think she’s a Disney princess? Does she think the world stops because she’s in the room?” “Becca!” Steve barked. She just rolled her eyes at me. In those years, Becca’s voice and the malice hidden in her “jokes” were like invisible hands slapping my face daily. The whispers in the back of the classroom were like insects crawling over my skin. But back then, I was too weak. I kept telling myself: Just three years. Three years and then we all go our separate ways. Just endure it. I didn’t realize that in the middle of that endurance, Steve would choose to break my heart completely. 4 He invited me to the community pool. Since we grew up together, swimming was a normal weekend activity. I didn’t suspect a thing. Until a group of girls from our class suddenly became very interested in my plans. They gathered around my locker, asking what I was going to wear. I told them I was just going to wear my regular one-piece and then go to the library. They looked horrified. “You’re going out with the hottest guy in school and you’re wearing a grandma suit? Jo, live a little!” Was it boring? Maybe. But Steve and I had always been the “good kids.” We studied, we hung out, we were stable. But as I watched Steve and Becca wrestling and laughing in the halls, a dark thought took root: Is he pulling away because I’m too boring? So, the next day, following the “advice” of the girls in my class, I wore a bright magenta bikini. I’ve always been pale, but I’d hit my growth spurt early. I had curves I usually tried to hide under baggy sweaters. When I showed up, the look on Steve’s face was pure shock. He looked away, scratching his neck, but I could feel his eyes tracking me as I walked to the lounge chair. A secret thrill raced through me. This is what it feels like to be liked, I thought. When we sat down in the break area, he started acting fidgety. “Jo,” he said, his voice dropping. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.” My heart started thumping against my ribs so hard I could hear it in my ears. “Will you be my girlfriend? For real?” The blood rushed to my face. I waited a beat, then whispered, “If it’s you, Steve… then yes.” Because when we were six, he’d held my hand and told me I was the prettiest girl in the world. When I was bullied in elementary school, he’d fought the boys twice his size to protect me. Jo is my sister, he’d yelled. If you mess with her, you mess with me! Ten years of history. How could one girl like Becca change that? Steve asked me again, as if he hadn’t heard me. I gathered my courage and said loudly, “Yes! I like you too, Steve!” “HA HA HA HA!” A roar of laughter erupted from behind the chairs and the pool house doors. Half the class spilled out, phones in hand, faces twisted with mockery. Becca was at the front. “Oh man, Steve! You actually did it! You got the Princess to confess!” I looked at Steve. He looked at the ground. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Becca walked up to me, her eyes raking over my body with disgusting theatricality. “Oh my god, Jo. Did you really think wearing that slutty suit would make him love you? You look like a mid-life crisis in a Barbie box.” The girls who had “recommended” the suit were there, too. They looked away, snickering behind their hands. Becca suddenly reached out and flicked the fabric of my bikini top. “Whoa! I knew it! They’re padded! You’re literally faking it to get a guy. How pathetic are you?” “I’m not!” I screamed, clutching my chest. The crowd roared. “Is she lying, Becca? Let’s see!” Becca laughed. “I saw it with my own eyes. You want a closer look, boys?” The guys started whistling, their eyes wandering over me in a way that made me feel like I was covered in slime. I looked at Steve, my voice trembling. “What is this? What are they talking about?”

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1 “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on preparing for my wedding with Chloe. As for Mia… I have plenty of ways to get back at her.” “You know, falling in love with your own stepbrother, sneaking into his bed every night to seduce him… when that shameless scandal is exposed at the wedding, do you think she’ll ever have the face to show herself in the Sterling household again? I honestly can’t wait.” The friend sitting across from him looked uncomfortable and offered a sincere warning: “Your parents had been divorced for three years before Mia’s mom even entered the picture. You can’t honestly blame Mia for that, can you? She was just starting college; she had no idea what the situation was with your family. Isn’t doing this to her a little too cruel?” “A girl’s reputation is everything. You’re basically trying to kill her! She loves you so much; if she finds out you only got with her for revenge, I’m afraid she might…” Arthur Sterling pursed his lips impatiently, pulled out his phone, and casually sent me a reaction sticker. “Her life is exactly what I want!” “Don’t talk to me about her being innocent. Was my mother innocent when she was abandoned?” “Coming from that woman’s womb is her own bad luck. She chose to degrade herself!” “If she was really so pure and innocent, she wouldn’t have agreed to sleep with me six years ago. Ending up like this is her own choice. She deserves it.” His friend let out a long sigh, asking one final question: “You can say that, but after six years together, I refuse to believe you haven’t felt anything for her.” “Arthur, I’m warning you as a friend. Once you do this, there is absolutely no turning back.” Arthur’s face instantly turned freezing cold, and he shot his friend a vicious glare. “Fall in love with the daughter of my enemy? What kind of person do you take me for?” “Looking at that face of hers, which looks exactly like her mother’s, makes me physically sick every time I kiss her!” “She was raised by a homewrecker; of course she’s a shameless little slut! Ruining her reputation is already showing her mercy!” Seeing that Arthur refused to listen, his friend sighed helplessly and left the office. Footsteps approached the door. I scrambled frantically to hide, but the bouquet of blue roses in my hands slipped and scattered all over the floor. His friend walked out and ran straight into me. His eyes filled with profound pity. Hearing the noise, Arthur walked out of the office. He saw me scrambling pathetically on the floor, trying to gather the scattered flowers. A flash of raw panic crossed his face, and he immediately rushed over to help me up. “Mia? Why are you here? When did you arrive?” I smiled, but tears fell from my eyes entirely against my will. “I just got here. I wanted to surprise you, but I’m so clumsy I couldn’t even hold the flowers.” He smiled indulgently, tossing the flowers aside carelessly. He pulled me into his office. The moment the door closed. He pinned me against the door. His burning body heat radiated through his clothes, pressing into me. But my entire body felt completely frozen. “I told you, you don’t need to get me gifts. Just having Mia here is the best gift I could ever ask for.” “You must be tired from the trip, right? Rest here for a bit. Once I’m done working, I’ll take you home.” After saying that, he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. His actions were as tender and affectionate as always. But I could no longer feel his warmth. I never knew a person could commit so completely to an act just for revenge. When my mother first married into the Sterling family… At the wedding, I was crushed by the horrific insults of being a “homewrecker’s daughter,” unable to even lift my head. I hid in a dark corner and cried hysterically. It was Arthur’s appearance that offered me my only salvation. He silenced the vicious rumors for me. He promised he would protect me for the rest of my life and be my safe harbor. I believed every word he said. I drowned in the gentle warmth he offered, completely unable to pull myself out. I had no idea that everything was a meticulously calculated act of revenge. The so-called “love” was nothing but an illusion. He was the one actively pushing me into the abyss. While Arthur was busy working, I sent a text to my mother. “Mom, I want to study abroad.” “Please don’t tell anyone in the family yet.” On the drive back, he casually brought it up, acting like it was no big deal: “My dad is pressuring me to get married, so I found a friend to act as my fiancé.” “Don’t worry, you are the only person I will ever love. She agreed to help me keep up the facade, so I’ll still be living at home with you.” I stared at the scenery passing by outside the window and nodded silently. Tears fell soundlessly down my cheeks. The moment we got home, while he was in the shower, I unlocked his phone. 2 The pinned contact at the very top was named “Chloe.” I opened the chat. Below the cute, flirty reaction stickers… Were dozens of dense video files. Security camera footage from inside my own bedroom. The messages underneath them were even more devastating. “I told you, I only want revenge against her. I’m going to play these videos at the wedding. After that day, Mia will be permanently erased from the Sterling family. The only person standing by my side will be you.” “Before you officially marry into the family, I’m going to clear every single obstacle out of your way. From now on, you will only know happiness.” “Chloe, I love you.” I looked up at the stuffed animal he gave me six years ago. In the dim light of the room… A tiny, eerie red light blinked inside the toy’s eye. It turned out he had been planning how to eradicate me from the very beginning. It’s hilarious that I was so thoroughly immersed in his fabricated lies. Believing I was actually happy. I opened Arthur’s hidden photo album. It was completely filled with photos of him and Chloe. Dating all the way back to their college years. The photos meticulously documented their entire love story. Every major holiday, when he claimed he was swamped with work… He was actually with Chloe. Every single gift he ever bought me… He bought an identical one for Chloe. The only difference was, Chloe got things that I never did. The second chat thread I opened was with a wedding planning company. Arthur had been meticulously preparing for this wedding for six months. From selecting the venue to choosing the exact style of silverware for the reception. He handled every single detail personally. Even the security camera footage… he edited it himself. All for the sole purpose of utterly destroying our forbidden relationship in front of everyone at the wedding. A second before Arthur walked out of the bathroom… I locked his phone. And I bought myself a plane ticket to leave the country in three days. At the dinner table, Arthur’s father constantly brought up his upcoming wedding. Arthur pretended to be incredibly annoyed by it. But casually agreed to everything. Setting the wedding date for three days from now. The chopsticks in my hand clattered to the floor. The entire meal tasted like ash in my mouth. After dinner, my mother pulled me into my room, looking deeply concerned. “Why the sudden decision to go abroad? Didn’t you insist on joining the company to work with your brother? Did you tell him about this yet?” Looking at the gray streaks in my mother’s hair, my nose stung painfully. “No. I need you to keep this a secret from him.” “Mom, after I leave, just focus on living a good life with Uncle Sterling. Ignore what anyone else says.” I know how incredibly difficult it was for my mother to finally decide to remarry. Regardless of what Arthur believed, my mother had never, ever been the other woman in anyone’s relationship. Having her reputation completely destroyed shouldn’t be how her story ends. When I returned to my bedroom, Arthur was already waiting in my bed. Seeing me walk in, he immediately pulled me into his arms. His lips brushed affectionately against my ear. “Are you mad? You know we can’t go public with our relationship. I’m handling the wedding arrangements; it’s just a cover, an act. Don’t overthink it.” “Mia, I promise, you are the only one in my heart. Stop throwing a tantrum, okay? I bought you a present; it’ll be delivered tomorrow. You’re going to love it.” I swallowed my suffocating grief and smiled, nodding. He didn’t suspect a thing. He let out a sigh of relief and pulled me tighter against his chest. After a long pause, he said hesitantly: “It’s just that… this is a Sterling family wedding, so it has to be a major event. Since you’re my sister, you probably…” “Okay. I’ll be there.” I knew exactly what he was trying to say. Rather than waiting for him to force the issue, I might as well offer it myself. At least I could maintain some shred of dignity. He was shocked by my sudden change in attitude. But since he got what he wanted, he didn’t bother analyzing it. That night, he slept in my bed as usual. The next morning, before anyone else in the house was awake, I slipped out of my room. The second Arthur left the house, I walked out right behind him. I went to process my visa and finalize my university applications. I never expected to run into Chloe there. 3 Arthur was standing right behind her, his eyes overflowing with absolute adoration. The employees nearby were constantly whispering about them: “Is that CEO Sterling’s fiancée? Her aura is incredible! If I’m not mistaken, that bag she’s holding is a limited edition Hermes. You can’t even buy that just with money!” “It has to be her. I heard they started dating in college and have been together ever since. He even bought a private island abroad for their honeymoon! They’re probably here getting visas for a trip around the world, right?” “This is literally a romance novel come to life. I’m so jealous. If my boyfriend was even half as amazing as CEO Sterling, my life would be complete…” In my daze, the clerk processing my paperwork called out: “Ms. Sterling? Ms. Sterling? Your paperwork is finished.” His voice instantly drew Arthur’s attention. As I was shoving the documents into my bag, Arthur appeared right in front of me. His expression carried a microscopic, almost imperceptible trace of panic. “Mia? What are you doing here?” Chloe walked up from behind him, affectionately wrapping her arm around his. “You must be Arthur’s sister! Hi there.” “Since we’re going to be family soon, we should get to know each other.” My eyes swept over where their arms were linked. I smiled and nodded. “Sister-in-law.” “It’s nothing. I just came to help Mom sort out her visa. She’s been wanting to travel abroad for a while.” “I’ll leave you two to it. Have a good day.” I turned to walk away. But Arthur chased after me, grabbing my arm tightly. He frantically tried to explain: “Don’t overthink this. We’re only here today because my dad insisted. You know how seriously he takes this wedding; he practically forced me to take her traveling.” “He also wants Chloe to come over for dinner tonight. I’m just giving you a heads-up so you don’t misunderstand.” Watching him act so desperately anxious about my feelings… I suddenly found the entire situation hilarious. Chloe was his actual girlfriend of several years. The wedding was three days away, and his grand revenge plot was about to reach its climax. Who exactly was he putting this act on for? “Don’t worry, I know my place. Since it’s Uncle Sterling’s arrangement, just do as he asks. I wouldn’t cause a scene over something like that.” “You two go ahead. I’ll wait for you at home.” He let out a massive sigh of relief and personally hailed a cab to send me home. Then he turned around and took Chloe straight to a bridal boutique. 4 My mother and Uncle Sterling knew Chloe was coming over for dinner. They started preparing the meal right around noon. The moment Arthur and Chloe walked through the door… They handed her a red envelope containing ten thousand dollars. I used feeling unwell as an excuse to hide in my room. But Arthur walked in carrying a gift box. As he slipped the bracelet onto my wrist, he pulled a warm blue rose from his jacket pocket. He dropped to one knee on the floor. His eyes were filled with absolute devotion. “I know that being with me in secret, without a real title, is incredibly unfair to you. But after the wedding, I’ll still be your brother. I’ll still live here and spend time with you, exactly like I always have.” “Mia, please don’t be mad at me, okay?” I looked down at the Hermes logo on the bracelet. It was the complimentary gift that came with the bag Chloe was carrying. “Okay. I won’t be mad at you.” “Go eat dinner. They’ve been preparing it all day.” The sounds of joyous congratulations drifted up from downstairs. My mother stood awkwardly by the dining table, looking exactly like a hired maid. Arthur naturally and casually ordered her around, demanding she serve the food and dish out the soup. The suffocating weight of my grievances finally exploded. I gathered every single gift he had given me over the past six years and threw them all into the trash can. As the trash can tipped over, Chloe suddenly appeared in my doorway. Looking at the mess on the floor, a triumphant, arrogant smirk spread across her face. “What, you can’t handle it anymore?” “Mia, you are even more pathetic than I thought.” “Makes sense. What kind of decent person could a homewrecker possibly raise? Watching your own mother scurry around like a maid, not even allowed to sit at the table… that must hurt, right?” I stared at her with freezing apathy. “What exactly are you trying to say?” Chloe smirked, her face dripping with vicious mockery. She pulled out her phone, opened her chat log with Arthur, and waved it directly in my face. “Oh, right, you don’t know, do you? Every single night when you’re being intimate with Arthur, he sends the videos straight to me so I can watch.” “If I sent these videos to your mother’s phone, do you think she’d lose her mind entirely?” “Her own biological daughter and her second husband’s son, secretly screwing each other every single night right under their noses…” “Don’t you dare!” Unable to suppress the explosive rage in my chest a second longer… I raised my hand and delivered a brutal slap across her face. The sharp crack echoed loudly. Chloe fell hard onto the floor, shattering a glass picture frame. Blood instantly began pooling from her palm. Arthur charged into the room and immediately pulled her into his arms. He glared at me with pure, unadulterated fury. “Mia! What the hell are you doing?! Are you insane?!” “Chloe came up here to nicely ask you to come down for dinner, and you attack her?!” Uncle Sterling stood in the doorway, his face instantly turning dark. My mother panicked, desperately trying to explain: “Mia definitely didn’t mean to! There must be some misunderstanding!” “Mia, apologize to Chloe right now!” Chloe’s eyes were red as she buried her face in Arthur’s chest. “I’m so sorry. I just came up to invite Mia to our wedding. I have no idea why she suddenly attacked me…” “Arthur, please don’t blame Mia. I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” A cold sneer curled my lips as I stared directly at the embracing couple. Arthur ignored my expression, his eyes radiating a freezing, venomous hatred. “Mia. Apologize!” My nails dug so deeply into my palms that droplets of blood fell to the floor. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?!” “You two are the ones who owe me an apology!” A look of profound disappointment flashed across Arthur’s eyes. “Mia, when did you become like this? You are being completely unreasonable!” Before I could respond, Uncle Sterling stepped forward and pulled Arthur up. “Take Chloe to the hospital first. I will handle things here.” Arthur carried Chloe out of the house. My mother followed behind Uncle Sterling, apologizing profusely and pathetically. Six years of deep, profound love evaporated into nothingness in that exact moment. I grabbed my suitcase and went to a hotel. Before leaving, I ripped the hidden camera out of the stuffed animal. And mailed it to Arthur. Doing the math, it would arrive on the exact day of his wedding. I thought my departure would officially end this twisted play. But that night, Arthur sent me a text explaining everything: “Chloe agreed to act as my bride for the wedding. I already owe her a massive favor, and you physically hurt her. It looked terrible in front of everyone. I only made you apologize so my dad wouldn’t get suspicious. Please don’t overthink it.” “Get some rest. I had a custom dress made for you to wear to the wedding. Be a good girl. I am your brother, and that will never, ever change.” But I knew perfectly well that this performance wasn’t for Uncle Sterling. It was entirely for me. My departure was the only thing that could finally end it. For the next two days, I didn’t go home. He didn’t go home either. He was busy organizing the wedding venue. He was busy picking out expensive jewelry for Chloe. I never received the gift he promised me. The only news I received was that he had casually dropped millions on a luxury yacht for Chloe. All so he could take her to the private island named after them. On the morning of the wedding, I called him. He was busy giving instructions to his friends and didn’t really have time for me. “Are the videos ready? Remember, start playing them the exact second she walks into the venue. I want absolutely everyone to see them.” “Are you sure about this? Once that video plays, there is absolutely no turning back.” “Just do exactly what I said. I have been waiting for this day for six years.” “Keep an eye on her mother. Make sure she doesn’t try to cause a scene.” His friend walked away, and Arthur finally remembered he was on the phone. “Mia? The wedding is about to start. I’ll come pick you up myself in a little bit. Wait for me at home.” “I’ll let you in on a secret: usually, the groom only picks up the bride. It’s almost like I’m marrying you, isn’t it?” “Stop being unhappy.” I stared at the boarding pass in my hand and let out a cynical laugh. “Brother. Happy Wedding Day.” He froze for a second, then chuckled softly. “Why are you calling me ‘brother’ today? I prefer it when you call me by my name.” “Be a good girl and wait for me. I’ll be right there.” I hung up the phone, turned around, and boarded my flight. And permanently deleted every single piece of his contact information. The wedding began. Arthur’s mind kept replaying that phone call, a profound sense of unease settling in his chest. Right as he was preparing to leave to pick me up… His friend rushed in from outside, carrying the shattered camera lens. “We have a massive problem. Mia found out about the hidden cameras!” “She took a flight out of the country early this morning. But that specific flight… the news just broke that it crashed into the ocean!”

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Ethan is five years older than me, but I never called him “brother.” I watched him go through girlfriend after girlfriend. With every single one, I’d politely call them “sister-in-law.” On my twenty-second birthday, I waited all day. Ethan never showed up. I made a wish: to never, ever like him again. After my birthday ended, I went downstairs to throw out the trash and saw a familiar silhouette. It was Ethan’s best friend, Liam. “Liam? What are you doing here?” “Ethan couldn’t get away. He asked me to drop off his present for you.” “Oh. Thanks. Where’s yours?” He smiled. “I brought two. I’ll decide which one to give you after you answer my question.” “Autumn, liking him must be exhausting, right? How about you try someone else? Be my girlfriend.” 1 I stared at Liam in shock. When did he find out I liked Ethan? I thought I had hidden it perfectly. I never showed a hint of jealousy in front of Ethan. “Liam, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pressed his lips together. He was smiling, but there was a visible tension in his eyes. “Let me rephrase that, then.” “Autumn Miller, I like you.” “I wanted to ask… would you give me a chance? Will you go out with me?” But he was Ethan’s best friend. When I first met Ethan at five years old, Liam was standing right next to him. Thinking about it, I had known Liam for seventeen years, too. I stared at his face, suddenly remembering the wish I had made tonight. Liam chuckled under my intense gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Do you think I’m causing trouble for you?” I shook my head. It wasn’t trouble, just… surprising. Liam was different from Ethan. In all the time I’d known him, I don’t think I’d ever seen him date anyone. For a brief, confusing period, I had even considered him a romantic rival for Ethan’s attention. Meanwhile, Ethan always had a woman by his side. Thinking of that felt like a needle pricking my heart. After the sharp sting faded, I looked up at him and said: “It just so happens I wished for a boyfriend tonight, and here you are, delivering yourself to my doorstep.” “Liam, you must have been sent by fate.” “So, I’ll go along with the universe. Yes, let’s date!” Liam froze. He clearly hadn’t expected me to actually say yes. He studied me for a moment, then a slow smile broke across his face. He turned and pulled a beautifully wrapped gift box from his car, handing it to me. “This one is for my girlfriend.” 2 I opened it right in front of him. It was a delicate necklace studded with crushed diamonds. It looked incredibly expensive. “Isn’t this a bit too much?” I knew his family was wealthy, but his past birthday gifts had always been on par with Ethan’s. And I always got him something similar for his birthday. Liam stepped closer and gently ruffled my hair. “For you? It’s not expensive.” As he leaned in, a faint scent of cologne drifted into my nose. It was different from Ethan’s. His was cooler, crisper—like bitter lemon packed with ice. I took a subtle step back, creating some distance. Just as I was trying to figure out how to politely decline the gift, Liam’s phone rang. “Liam, did you drop off the gift?” The night was quiet, so Ethan’s voice carried clearly from the receiver. Along with the unmistakable sound of a girl laughing in the background. “Yeah, delivered.” Liam kept his eyes fixed on me as he spoke. I suddenly felt incredibly awkward. I looked away, but my ears were still glued to the conversation. “Good. I tried calling Autumn earlier but she didn’t pick up. Thought she might be mad at me.” Liam let out a low chuckle. “She’s not. She went downstairs to take out the trash and forgot her phone.” “Makes sense. She’s too soft; she never gets mad at me.” “Wait a minute. How do you know she doesn’t have her phone? Is she right there with you? Put her on.” I snapped my head back, terrified Liam would hand me the phone. I had just agreed to be his girlfriend. Talking to Ethan right now… the thought alone made me cringe. To my surprise, Liam turned slightly away, lowering his voice. “It’s not a good time for her. Just tell me what you want to say, I’ll pass it on.” “Just tell her happy birthday, and that she needs to find a boyfriend this year. Every time I take her out to eat, I have to waste breath explaining she’s not my girlfriend so people don’t get the wrong idea.” Ethan’s teasing, flippant tone laid my humiliation bare. I curled my hands into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms. Liam lowered his voice even further and gave a soft, dry laugh. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Ethan paused for two seconds, his tone turning cold. “What do you mean? Is she seeing someone?” Liam stepped forward, using his free hand to grab mine. I froze, instinctively trying to pull away, but he intertwined his fingers tightly with mine. Liam looked down, locking eyes with me, and said into the phone: “Yeah. She’s with me now. She’s my girlfriend. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” 3 He hung up, but Liam didn’t let go of my hand. “Do you have any plans tomorrow?” I stared at the pavement and mumbled, “No.” “Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we’ll go out. It’s getting cold, you should head back up.” I nodded. The second he released my hand, I practically sprinted toward my building. Liam called out from behind me: “Autumn, you aren’t going to back out, right?” I stopped but didn’t dare turn around. “I won’t.” “Good. Because if you do, I’m going to become a very persistent stalker.” My face burned. I walked into the elevator without looking back. Once inside my apartment, I saw several missed calls from Ethan. And a barrage of text messages. [Happy birthday, Autumn.] [I got tied up with work. Liam was passing by your area on a business trip, so I asked him to drop off your gift.] [Are you and him together?] [Since when?!] [Why didn’t you tell me?] [I never even see you two talk. How are you suddenly dating?] [Did he pressure you and you were too scared to say no? Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him for you.] I stared at the messages. My chest felt tight. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what I was feeling. The thrill of petty revenge? Guilt toward Liam? Or was it lingering resentment and grievance? After deliberating for a long time, I just replied with a simple “Yeah.” Ethan immediately tried to call me. I didn’t want to talk to him. I hit decline. Another text popped up. [Autumn, have you really thought this through?] I have. I’ve thought through the fact that I don’t want to like you anymore. Another message arrived. [Do you even like him?] I didn’t know. The Liam I knew always maintained a polite, distant aura at our gatherings. But with his striking face and cool demeanor, he constantly attracted attention. Tonight, he was the one who confessed to me. Alongside the surprise, I felt a little panicked. Now that I was calm, I realized agreeing to date him had been impulsive. But Liam might not be a bad choice. When I didn’t reply, Ethan called again. I accidentally answered it. “Autumn, are you really with Liam?” Ethan’s voice was laced with panic. So he can panic too? I gave a low “Mhm.” I heard him curse in frustration. “He forced you, didn’t he? That bastard knows you’re basically my sister, and he still made a move!” “Autumn, you don’t need to be afraid of him. I’ll go talk to him—” I cut him off. “I’m not afraid of him. He said he liked me, so I said yes.” And you have never once said you liked me. So, why are you so angry? Ethan’s tirade stopped abruptly. Followed by the sound of something shattering. Then, a woman’s startled scream in the background, asking him what was wrong. Suddenly, all the complicated emotions swirling inside me just… vanished. Ethan could belong to any woman. But he would never belong to me. I should have seen that clearly a long time ago. I looked down at the necklace Liam had given me. I spoke softly into the phone: “Ethan, I thought you would be happy for me.” I used to call him by his full name, Ethan. And he would scold me for being disrespectful. He complained about why I called Liam “Liam” but just called him “Ethan.” But now that I was finally addressing him properly, he was still unhappy. There was rustling on the other end, and Ethan’s voice was strained. “Autumn, wait for me. I’m driving back right now. We’ll talk face to face.” Right as the call ended, a text from Liam arrived. [Autumn, if Ethan comes looking for you, don’t go soft on him, okay?] [Do me a favor. Just date me for a week, at least.] I imagined the expression on Liam’s face as he typed that. Probably a mix of helpless exasperation and a faint, indulgent fondness. I couldn’t help but smile. I typed back a single word: [Okay.] 4 The next morning, around nine, Liam called to ask if I was awake. I was still half-asleep. “What’s up, Liam?” I heard a soft chuckle through the speaker. “You slept and forgot everything already?” The memory of agreeing to our date hit me like a ton of bricks. I shot up in bed. “Ah! I didn’t forget. I’m getting up right now!” Liam’s laugh deepened. “It’s okay, no rush. Just let me know when you’re ready.” After hanging up, my heart was racing. I covered my face, groaning in regret. Every other time I had seen Liam, Ethan had been there. Oh right. Ethan. He said he was coming back to see me today. The more I thought about it, the more chaotic my brain felt. I didn’t know what had possessed him to react so violently to the news of me dating Liam. It wasn’t like he liked me. Why did he care who I was with? Especially when I clearly heard another woman’s voice next to him on the phone last night. I took a deep breath, adjusted my mindset, and muted Ethan’s notifications. I forced myself to stop thinking about him. Since I had agreed to date Liam, I needed to focus on Liam. When I finally got dressed and went downstairs, I saw Liam’s car parked out front. He was leaning casually against the door frame. Wearing a tailored cashmere coat, his posture was relaxed and elegant. His typically stoic face broke into a warm smile the second he saw me. He walked toward me. “Liam, I’m so sorry. I overslept.” He gave a noncommittal hum. “So, how are you going to make it up to me?” I definitely hadn’t expected him to say that. I froze. “Uh… I’ll buy you lunch?” He smiled and reached out to take my hand. “Sure. But I’d rather you agree to another condition.” I had no idea what condition he was going to propose. But showing up late to our very first date was incredibly rude. I braced myself and agreed. “Alright, tell me. As long as it’s something I can do.” “Change how you address me. Stop calling me like we’re just friends.” “Huh? What should I call you then?” “Liam.” (In a more intimate, affectionate tone) After he said it, he looked down at me. His face held a faint, eager anticipation. I repeated his name in my head. But when it came time to say it out loud, it felt like the word was burning my tongue. “L-Liam.” My voice was barely a whisper. But he heard it. The smile on his lips grew wider, and he responded with utmost seriousness. “Yeah. I’m here.” Putting our new “relationship” aside for a second… Liam’s smile was lethally attractive. Especially when you knew he was smiling because of you. It made me incredibly shy. My face flushed, and I quickly changed the subject. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.” Without another word, Liam took my hand. He seemed to really like intertwining our fingers. He had held my hand the exact same way last night when I agreed to date him. I still wasn’t quite used to it. After lunch, Liam took me to an art exhibition. “Liam, aren’t you here on a business trip? If you’re busy with the company, we don’t have to do this. You can head back.” His family wanted him to take over their corporation. But he had insisted on starting his own business first, before he turned thirty. At past gatherings, he would always just drop in for a bit and leave early. Even while he was there, he was constantly replying to emails and taking calls. In my mind, he was a CEO who worked harder than a pack mule. But during lunch today, he hadn’t checked his phone once. And now he was taking me to an art gallery. To my surprise, Liam casually mentioned that he had finished all his work last night. His time today belonged entirely to me. I blushed, pretending to be unbothered. “Liam, I’m not a kid. You don’t have to babysit me.” “Oh. Well, I am a kid. And I need you to babysit me.” God, my face is on fire.

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On a hit reality dating show, I was bullied by every single contestant for rejecting the advances of a rich, spoiled brat. They isolated me. They framed me. They turned the entire internet against me. When I confronted the producers, they threatened me with “villain editing” and told me to get out of the industry. When I begged my talent agency for help, they sued me, demanding millions in liquidated damages. “Preston Sterling can have any woman he wants! Who do you think you are to say no to him? Know your place!” I was blacklisted. My reputation was trashed. Walking down the street, strangers doused me in red paint. They screamed at me: “You’re just a cheap tramp raised by trash! Your whole bloodline is garbage!” In response, I started a livestream to face every guest and every hater. Standing against a wall covered in military and civilian medals of honor, I spoke every word through tears: “My grandfather was a Purple Heart recipient! My grandmother sacrificed her life for the Apollo Space Program! My father was a fallen Special Forces hero! My mother was a frontline surgeon! I am a National Heritage Fellow! Tell me, exactly how much ‘status’ do I need to reject a brat? Is the honor of this nation enough for you?” 1 “Chloe is a master of the ‘push-and-pull.’ Don’t let that innocent look fool you; she’s a total player behind the scenes.” “Honestly, you can’t blame Preston for being fooled. Her act is top-tier.” “She played with fire and got burned. She tried to play hard-to-get to build a ‘cold beauty’ brand, but it backfired big time.” “If it weren’t for the show’s raw footage, we’d probably all be under her spell.” “Don’t even mention her name. It makes me sick.” The producers of Destined to Love were hosting a live panel with four contestants. Two men and two women sat there, chatting casually. They didn’t hold back their malice toward me. The stream had over a hundred thousand viewers. In the chat, trolls were working overtime to smear me. But everything they claimed I did, I never touched. From the start, I was the one being bullied. The haters said I wore revealing clothes to seduce the men. The truth? One of the female contestants snuck into my room and shredded my dresses. I didn’t realize it until I was on camera, suffering a massive wardrobe malfunction. The haters said I was a manipulator, stirring up drama. The truth? A female guest tried to frame me, but her plan accidentally backfired on one of the guys. I tried to show the producers the truth on the security tapes. Instead, they all banded together to call me a liar. I was the victim. The innocent one. Yet, I became the villain in the mouths of five other people. The rumors that I tried to sleep my way to the top were even more absurd. When I went to the executive’s office, I was dressed professionally. I just wanted the showrunners to act like humans and stop the bullying. But they didn’t care. They just kept editing the clips to make me look like a “homewrecker.” Left with no choice, I went to my agency. I thought they would protect me. Instead, my manager sneered: “Preston Sterling can have any woman he wants! Who do you think you are to say no? You think you’re special?” “It’s not too late. Go to Preston. Beg. Do whatever it takes to get him to forgive you.” “Maybe if he’s happy, he’ll give you a second chance. You might even get famous off this!” I recorded every word they said. And I posted it online. If no one else would stand up for me, I would do it myself. I didn’t believe a trust-fund kid like Preston could hide the truth forever. I had a clear conscience. I believed I could wash away the filth they threw at me. But the moment the audio went viral, Preston bought off the media. They told the public the recording was “AI-generated” or “staged” by me. “Using fake audio to save yourself? Do you really think Preston Sterling is obsessed with you?” “The Sterling family is worth billions. Why would they bother framing a nobody like you?” “Know your place. Get out of the industry, you parasite.” That night, #CancelChloeMiller hit #1 on trending. My apartment door was blocked with piles of trash. I was spat on in the street. I was harassed by thugs in broad daylight. Even when the police arrested one, ten more were waiting. “Look, kid,” the officer said. “We can’t prove Preston Sterling is behind this. We don’t know if these guys are hired or just random internet trolls.” I was too scared to leave my house. I cut off all social contact. Even when I ordered groceries, someone threw red paint on me the moment I opened the door. There was no food in the bags. Only filth, terrifying dolls, and printed death threats. I curled up in my dark living room, clutching a glass snow globe my parents gave me. I was shaking. I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t understand. The world my parents fought to protect—how did it become this dark? “Mom… Dad… I’m so scared. Why are they doing this?” “I miss you. I miss you so much.” But they weren’t done with me. Just minutes ago, a group led by Preston Sterling kicked in my front door. 2 They stormed in and trashed the place. They tore my clothes and took photos of me in the wreckage. They told me if I didn’t publicly apologize to Preston, they’d drive me out of the city. Preston pressed his shoe against my face on the floor. I was trembling. His voice was a venomous whisper: “Chloe, I offered to make you a star on this show. You should’ve been grateful. Do you really think you can say no to me?” I fought back, but I was too weak against them. He took a pocketknife and lightly grazed my cheek. “Such a pretty face. It’d be a shame to ruin it. Why are you so stubborn? Wouldn’t it be easier to be a good girl?” He laughed like a demon. “I’ll give you one last chance. Go on the livestream tonight. Apologize. Admit you tried to seduce me and tell the world you love me. Maybe then I’ll let you go.” He dropped the knife and stood up. “Don’t bother calling the cops. You have no proof. No one is coming for you.” My eyes were bloodshot. My vision was blurry with tears. Beside my hand lay the shattered snow globe. My 12th birthday present. The last gift I ever got from them. I had kept it safe for ten years. Now, it was just shards of glass. He grabbed my chin. “The more you resist, the more I want to break you. See you on the stream, Chloe.” He walked out, arrogant as ever. I slowly picked up the glass shards. The glass cut my fingers, and in the blood, I felt like I saw my father. He was covered in dirt and glory, walking toward me through the fire of a distant battlefield. His gaze was steady. His stride was firm. “A soldier’s grit is harder than steel, Chloe. A hero’s child must be firmer than a rock, straighter than a pine, and braver than the flames! Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.” Behind him stood my mother, my grandfather, and my grandmother. “Be brave, Chloe.” I stopped sobbing. My mind filled with images of them on the front lines—in the desert, in the secret labs, in the trauma wards. Preston Sterling seemed terrifying. But compared to the enemies my father faced, or the radiation my grandmother braved? He was nothing but a coward with a checkbook. “Whoa, Preston’s here!” “Hey man, join the stream! We’re almost done. Still heartbroken over Chloe?” “Come on, Preston. The world is full of women. Forget her.” Preston appeared on camera. A shower of “Super Chats” and digital gifts filled the screen. The viewer count jumped from a hundred thousand to a million. Preston looked every bit the charming prince. Not a trace of the monster from an hour ago. He sighed, looking “hurt.” “Actually, Chloe called me. She said she wanted to apologize. I don’t want to believe a girl can be that cruel, so I gave her a link to join us tonight.” The other guests groaned. “Preston, you’re too kind.” “People like her don’t change. Even if she admits it, she’s still trash.” “I bet she’s too scared to show up.” The chat was a toxic mess: [If she shows up, I’m throwing my phone.] [She’s probably hiding in a hole like the rat she is.] [Her parents must be so proud of raising a slut.] [How does she even have the face to be alive?] 3 But I wasn’t the one who lacked “face.” It was the five people on that screen. I wiped my eyes. I pulled a heavy metal box from under my bed. I opened it. One by one, I took out the contents and hung them on the white wall behind me. Then, I turned on my camera and requested to join the stream. “Wait, she actually joined? Should we let her in?” “Let her in. Let everyone see the ‘Green Tea’ performance.” Preston acted concerned. “Guys, be nice. She might be going through a lot…” “We got you, Preston. We’ll let her talk.” I entered the stream. The viewer count hit two million. The screen was a blur of censored slurs and hate. “Chloe, it’s about time. We haven’t heard an apology yet!” one of the girls sneered. “Show some accountability for once, or your career is over!” I adjusted the camera. My face was a mess. Red eyes, tear tracks, and the fresh cut on my cheek. [Look at her! Still acting! What a drama queen!] [Disgusting. She thinks a few tears will make us forget she’s a liar.] I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for wasting the public’s time on this circus.” The guests laughed. “That’s it? That’s your apology? You think that covers the ‘harm’ you did to us?” “Harm?” I asked. “I never hurt you. You hurt me. Aside from the viewers I’ve annoyed, I owe no one an apology. Especially not you five. And especially not the trolls in this chat. You all owe me an apology.” The stream erupted. “Are you kidding me?!” “She’s doubling down! Kick her out!” “Wait,” Preston said, his eyes turning cold. “Chloe, think carefully. This is your last chance to save yourself. Think of your family name. You don’t want them to be dragged through the mud with you…” I started to laugh. It was a hollow, jagged sound. Preston was so fake. He wanted me to confess my “love” just so he could own me. But he picked the wrong girl. [What is she laughing at?! She’s insane!] [Preston is being a saint and she’s mocking him!] I stopped laughing. My voice was steady. “Preston is right. I should value this opportunity. I should say what needs to be said.” I stood up. I turned the camera toward the white wall behind me. The wall was covered in medals. Gold, silver, bronze. Gleaming under the light. Ribbons of blue, red, and white. Every single one told a story of survival, courage, and blood. 4 [What are those?] [Are those… military medals? Wait, is that a Silver Star?] [Wait, look at the middle one. Is that the Medal of Honor?!] [No way. That’s impossible. She must have bought them on eBay.] “These aren’t mine,” I said. “They belong to my family.” “You said my family should be ashamed of me? I want to know, why should American heroes be ashamed?” “You called me trash raised by trash? I want to know, since when are the defenders of this country considered trash?” The guests were silent. The chat froze for a split second. Preston’s face was as dark as a thundercloud. “Chloe, what is this theater? You think medals make you innocent?” The trolls tried to rally. [Fake! Totally fake! Who has that many medals?] [She’s desperate. She’s using stolen valor!] “You can doubt it,” I said, my voice rising. “But the records are public. My grandfather served three tours. This Silver Star was for saving an entire platoon under fire. This Purple Heart was for the shrapnel he carries in his leg to this day!” I touched a faded ribbon. “My grandmother worked in a top-secret lab for NASA. She spent ten years calculating trajectories in a room full of radiation so we could reach the moon. She died of cancer caused by that work. This is her Presidential Medal of Freedom!” “My father was a Navy SEAL. He spent thirty years on the front lines, protecting borders you’ll never see. He died in a firefight to keep an embassy safe. This is his Navy Cross!” “My mother was a trauma surgeon. she died in a field hospital during a pandemic, saving people who would never know her name!” “And me? I am a National Heritage Fellow. I dedicated my life to preserving the traditional blacksmithing and weaving techniques of our ancestors. I went on that show to promote our history!” “We are a family of public servants. Every single person on this wall is a hero!” My voice was hoarse. I was shouting now. “My grandfather is a war hero! My grandmother was a pioneer! My father is a martyr! My mother was an angel! And I am a protector of our culture!” “The show asked me what ‘face’ I had to reject Preston Sterling? I ask you: Is the honor of my father and my country enough? Is it ‘big’ enough for you?!” “An hour ago, Preston Sterling broke into my home. He trashed my parents’ belongings. He put his boot on my face and told me that because he has money, he can do whatever he wants!” “Is that the world we live in? Where a checkbook is more important than a life of service?!” 5 Preston and the others looked like they had seen a ghost. The chat was a volcano. The trolls were being drowned out by millions of regular people. The “Army of Justice” had arrived. [That is a real Navy Cross. I’m a vet, I know the serial number.] [Look at her face. That’s not acting. That’s raw pain.] [If this is true, Preston Sterling is finished.] [We failed her. We let them bully a hero’s daughter.] [Chloe, we’re coming! Don’t be afraid!] Preston tried to save face. “Don’t believe her! This is a scam! She’s a liar!” “Chloe, you better shut up, or you’ll regret ever being born!” [Look! He’s threatening her on camera!] [I’ve already called the local VA. They’re calling the Sheriff!] [The Pentagon is going to have a field day with this.] The stream hit ten million viewers. The platform’s mods took control of the room, locking the host’s ability to end the stream. The comments were now 100% against the guests. [Preston Sterling, you are scum!] [Boycott Sterling Industries!] [I’m outside the studio right now. Come out and face us, cowards!] Preston lost it. He started screaming at the camera. “You losers! You’re all broke nobodies! I’ll buy your houses and tear them down! You can’t touch me!” One of the other guests tried to pull him away, but he was manic. “Where are my bots?! Why aren’t the bots working?!” He looked at the lens, his eyes wild. “Chloe! You think you won? I’m coming back to your place right now to finish the job!” As he stood up to leave, a hand reached into the frame and slapped him across the face. A hard, ringing crack. “Dad?!” Richard Sterling stood there, trembling with rage. Then he hit him again. And again. 6 “Dad! Stop! They’re watching! Help me!” Richard Sterling didn’t help. He kicked Preston to the ground. “You idiot! I told you to stay out of trouble, but you harassed a Gold Star family?! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” Preston was sobbing. “She’s lying, Dad! She has to be!” Richard hit him again. “The FBI is on the phone! Our stocks are crashing! Every veteran group in the country is calling for my head! You think this is a joke?!” He looked at the camera, his face pale. “Get on your knees! Apologize to Ms. Miller! Now!” Richard forced his son and the other guests to kneel in front of the cameras. “Ms. Miller, I am a failure of a father. I beg for your mercy. We will make this right. Please!” Preston was stunned. “Dad, we have the Governor on speed dial! Why are you begging this girl?!” Richard grabbed a chair and smashed it over his son’s head. Preston went limp. Richard clutched his chest, gasping for air, as the paramedics rushed in. The stream finally cut to black. [The son outed the Dad’s corruption in ten seconds. Amazing.] [Gold Star families are untouchable. The Sterlings are over.] [Justice tastes so good.] Within minutes, the internet was a storm of headlines. #SterlingEmpireFalls #ChloeMillerHero #GoldStarJustice The show’s raw footage was leaked by a whistleblower. The world saw the truth. “Chloe, you should be honored I’m looking at you. Name your price.” “I’m not interested, Preston. I’m here for my work.” The video showed him grabbing my clothes, me fighting him off, and the producers laughing as I cried. “The Sterlings pay for this show, Chloe. Go to his room tonight, or we’ll ruin you.” “Five million in damages if you quit. You decide.” The world saw me crying in a dark hallway, with nowhere to go. The world saw the fifteen days of hell I endured. [She was slapped thirty times in one week for ‘missing cues.’] [The girls cut her dresses and put filth in her makeup bag.] [Preston entered the show just to prey on her.] [Chloe is a warrior. I would have broken on day one.]

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After my twentieth boyfriend was exposed as a “total jerk” by my best friend, Scarlett Pierce, I finally caved and agreed to an arranged marriage, tying the knot with Ryan Carter, scion of a powerful family, in a whirlwind ceremony. Later, at a friend’s gathering, Scarlett, with a half-eaten slice of cake, sidled up to Ryan, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Ryan, honey, I find this a tad too sweet. Could you possibly finish it for me?” I intervened, but instead of seeing the problem, she erupted. “What’s the big deal? I was just testing your husband’s character! What are you getting so worked up about?!” “We’ve been best friends for over a decade. You don’t honestly think I’m after your husband, do you?” In the past, I might have fallen for it. But not this time. I’d been reborn. I grabbed the cake from the table and smashed it right into her face. “You, of all people, to test someone else’s character? What a joke!” “You’re nothing but my former driver’s daughter, so stop pretending to be a socialite!” “I think you’ve not only set your sights on my husband, but you’ve probably already mapped out how you’re going to climb into his bed!” … My outburst turned heads. Friends started gathering around, and Scarlett’s face cycled through shades of crimson and white. It took her a full minute to compose herself. Wiping the cake from her face, she shrieked, “Olivia Howard, how could you speak to me like that?!” “All these years, if I hadn’t helped you weed out those twenty jerks, would you even be married to Ryan right now?” Ryan’s brow furrowed, just as I expected. He knew I’d had ex-boyfriends, but he likely had no idea the number was so… impressive. I smiled, my gaze fixed on Scarlett, and countered, “Back then, every time I started dating someone new, you were practically desperate to ‘test’ them for me. So, me going through boyfriends every two months, that’s perfectly normal, isn’t it?” “And speaking of which, I bet you’ve slept with quite a few of my exes, haven’t you?” Scarlett was, in fact, the daughter of my family’s driver. When I was in elementary school, her father died saving mine, and his only wish was for the Howards to look after his daughter. My father, a man of profound gratitude, not only financially supported Scarlett for years but also let her live with us. We were inseparable, quickly becoming confidantes. She’d always post my designer items online, cultivating this image of a wealthy socialite, and I never said a word. But I never imagined that while I treated her as my best friend, she resented my good fortune. In my previous life, she grew green with envy over my marriage into a prominent family. She spread rumors about my promiscuity, and my ex-boyfriends, eager to please her, actually conspired to drug and assault me, even taking compromising photos. The trauma was too much, and I jumped to my death. It was only in my final moments that I discovered her scheme: she’d consistently used the identity of the ‘true Howard heiress’ to seduce my boyfriends. Afterwards, she’d always put on an innocent act. “Olivia, I truly had no idea that would happen. I only exchanged a few words with him, and suddenly he showed his true colors.” “But perhaps it’s for the best. At least you saw him for who he really was. Good riddance to a jerk like that.” She’d then wash her hands of it, as if the fault lay entirely with the men. The memory churned my stomach, making me feel violently ill. Scarlett’s eyes welled up, and she cast a pathetic glance at Ryan, biting her lip. “I didn’t! I had a strict upbringing, with a curfew and everything. How could I possibly do something like that?” “I haven’t even had a boyfriend to this day…” Just like in my past life, she was playing the innocent, pure socialite. I couldn’t stomach her act a second longer and stood up to leave. But Ryan grabbed my arm, pulling me back into my seat. “Olivia, Scarlett’s intentions were good. Let’s just drop it. It was just a joke, and I didn’t fall for it. Don’t worry, I’m not a jerk.” Those words sounded eerily familiar. After all, which of my twenty exes hadn’t sworn they weren’t jerks? It seemed Scarlett’s plan had worked. However, this time, I was going to make sure Scarlett Pierce bore the full consequences of messing with my alliance with the Carters! Ryan, as the sole heir to the Carter fortune, naturally commanded respect from our friends. They quickly chimed in, trying to placate me. “That’s right, Olivia, you’re already married to the Carter heir. Are you seriously worried about him running off?” “Exactly! I think Scarlett was just overly concerned for you.” “Wasn’t Scarlett your proudest best friend? How could she ever harm you?” “You have a wealthy husband and a socialite best friend. We’re all so envious. You should be grateful.” I clenched my fists, almost grinding my back teeth together, before forcing myself to sit back down, my rage barely contained. Scarlett smirked, winking at me, then plopped down next to me, deliberately placing her limited edition alligator skin bag on the table with a loud thwack. My friends gasped as they recognized it. “Scarlett! You actually got that bag!” “Oh my God! There are only three in the world, and the city’s richest man owns one. Are you…?” Scarlett, clearly surprised by the bag’s prestige, immediately seized the opportunity. With an arrogant air, she declared, “Oh, it’s nothing. My family has plenty of bags like this.” I almost burst out laughing. That bag was clearly my mother’s. How did it end up in Scarlett’s hands? In my previous life, she used to steal my mother’s jewelry and rent it out to fake socialites. This bag was likely acquired the same way. One friend looked from me to Scarlett, her expression thoughtful. “But isn’t the Carter family allied with the richest family in the city? If you’re the richest family’s daughter, then Olivia must be…” She paused, her tone subtly shifting. “Could it be true what people are saying outside, that Olivia is just an adopted daughter of the richest family?” Another immediately chimed in, “Yes, that’s right! I heard that to repay a debt of gratitude, they adopted their driver’s daughter and treated her as their own. So that must be Olivia.” “To sacrifice their own daughter’s marital happiness for a debt of gratitude, that’s a bit hard to understand.” “Oh dear, I wonder what the richest family was thinking, to use an adopted daughter for a marriage alliance! How disrespectful to the Carters!” “I think Scarlett and the Carter heir are a much better match!” Scarlett’s face flickered. After all, Ryan and I had eloped, and she wasn’t aware that ours was a commercial alliance. Ryan’s expression instantly darkened as well; his pride was clearly wounded. I pulled out my phone and leisurely scrolled through a local app. “Hmm, I think I’ve seen this bag on quite a few influencers in the city…” I paused deliberately, looking at Scarlett. “But all their profiles claim they’re wealthy socialites… Could it be that you all rent this bag and share it?” Scarlett’s face went from red to white, her eyes glaring at me as if she wanted to tear me apart. It made sense; in the past, I’d been so naive, never exposing her publicly like this, and even thanking her for ‘testing’ those jerks for me. Seeing that our friends were starting to doubt her, Scarlett, in a fit of furious embarrassment, snatched a pair of scissors from the front desk and began slashing at the bag, shouting, “This is mine! How dare you slander me?! I’ll cut it to shreds, and then you’ll have nothing to say!” A collective gasp swept through the room. No one dared to speak as a million-dollar alligator skin bag was ruined before our eyes. I tutted, a mocking smile playing on my lips. “Enjoying yourself, are we? Have you figured out how you’re going to explain this to my mom?!” The words had barely left my mouth when Scarlett’s face contorted in panic. The scissors slipped from her trembling hand, plunging straight into her finger. A piercing shriek filled the air, and crimson beads of blood instantly welled up. She dissolved into a fit of dramatic sobbing, her eyes, overflowing with tears, turned to me, a picture of pathetic despair. “Olivia, are you satisfied now?” Ryan seized her hand, gently sucking the blood from her wound with tender concern, then quickly bandaged it with a tissue. He led her towards the exit. “To the hospital.” Seeing me still rooted to my seat, he flared up. “Olivia, Scarlett isn’t just your best friend, she’s like your sister! How could you treat her like that?” “You are now the Carter family’s daughter-in-law. I’m doing this for the family’s reputation! I’ll tell my father about this, and you’d better reflect on your actions!” I strolled out unhurriedly, only to find Ryan already helping Scarlett into the passenger seat. He didn’t spare me a glance, floored the accelerator, and sped away. I leisurely browsed the mall for a bit, then returned to the Carter mansion. The moment I stepped inside, I ran into Scarlett, who was sprawled comfortably on the living room sofa, looking quite pleased with herself. Seeing me, she rubbed her temples. “Olivia, Ryan said I could stay at the Carter house for a while. You don’t mind, do you?” I set down my belongings and asked, a hint of mockery in my voice, “No more curfew for you, then?” Ryan’s cold voice cut in from behind me. “Olivia Howard! What’s with the passive aggression?! If you hadn’t scared Scarlett, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt!” “She’ll be recuperating here for a while, and since you’re the one responsible, you’ll be personally taking care of her!” Ah, I understood. He expected me, the true heiress, to play maid to Scarlett. I picked up my handbag again, ready to leave. “Alright then, I won’t intrude. I’ll go back to the Howard estate.” “You!” Ryan was speechless, momentarily stunned by my defiance. Scarlett, standing behind him, looked fragile and pale, a picture of vulnerability. She spoke softly, “Olivia, it’s alright, it’s not a big deal. I don’t need your apology.” “Ryan is a good man. I just hope you cherish him.” A flicker of tenderness crossed Ryan’s face, a look I had never seen directed at me since our marriage. He took Scarlett’s hand and instructed the housekeeper, “Mrs. Davies! Prepare the room on the second floor. Get Scarlett whatever she needs.” Then he turned to me, his tone impatient. “You, wait here! I’ll settle this with you when I get back!” I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Mm, I’ll be waiting. We’ll see who’s settling scores with whom.” “Since you’re so smitten with my former driver’s daughter, I’ll just tell my parents to grant you both your wish!” Scarlett swayed, her eyes welling up, on the verge of tears. “Olivia, I know you’re still mad at me, but I truly did all this because I considered you my best friend, my sister.” “Even if you can’t understand me, you shouldn’t slander me like this…” If I hadn’t been reborn, I might have actually fallen for her act again. I stood up, glancing at Ryan, who was protectively holding Scarlett close. A mocking smile played on my lips. “You just called Ryan a good man? He’s practically embracing you right now. How does that still qualify him as ‘good’?” “Or is it only when a man sleeps with you, like before, that he earns the title of ‘jerk’?” “Olivia Howard!” Ryan pointed a furious finger at me. “Scarlett just showed me those chat logs! She had nothing going on with your exes!” “She merely exchanged a few messages, realized they had impure intentions, and kindly warned you!” “And I haven’t even started on you. With so many ex-boyfriends, just how desperate are you?!” Scarlett silently shed tears, murmuring, “Ryan, don’t blame Olivia. It’s my fault for interfering so much.” Ryan gently squeezed Scarlett’s shoulder, his voice dismissive. “She’s just an adopted girl who lives in your house; she has no real socialite upbringing in her bones.” “The Howards are really showing how little they think of the Carters, letting such a shameless slut marry into our family!” See? This was the twenty-first jerk Scarlett had “tested” for me. This time, I was truly grateful to her. I simply sat down, crossed my legs, and asked, nonchalantly, “So, you’re saying you want to call off the engagement?” At that, both Ryan and Scarlett froze. Scarlett had only ever dared to impersonate me to sabotage my relationships. Calling off a commercial alliance? That was a bridge too far, even for her. Ryan, however, quickly recovered, his voice firm. “It’s good that you know your place! The position of Carter family’s daughter-in-law was never meant for a fickle woman like you!” “If you know what’s good for you, get out! Don’t soil our Carter family’s property!” “Utterly preposterous!” The words had barely left his lips when a furious roar came from the doorway. “Call off the engagement?! It’s not your place to say!” Everyone turned to look. My father, Arthur Howard, strode in, his face thunderous, followed by my displeased mother, and the somewhat uncomfortable-looking Carter parents. Ryan immediately pointed at me, lodging his complaint. “Dad! The Howards actually used an adopted daughter to ally with us! It’s scandalous! When did the Carters start marrying adopted daughters?!” My father-in-law, Christopher Carter, turned green at Ryan’s words. He pointed a finger at Ryan’s nose and shouted, “You! Ryan! What nonsense are you spouting?!” He then turned back to my father, forcing a smile. “Arthur, the children are being foolish. Don’t pay them any mind.” My mother pulled me behind her, her eyes scanning me with concern. “Olivia, if you hadn’t told me today, I wouldn’t have known how much you’ve suffered…” My father, his fury boiling, pointed at Christopher and roared, “Who just said they wanted to call off the engagement? Fine! Does our Olivia even care about this ‘Carter family daughter-in-law’ title? Take a good look at yourselves in the mirror!” “My Howard daughter, when did it become your place to look down on her?!” Ryan finally realized he’d stirred up a hornet’s nest. He immediately let go of Scarlett’s hand, his face panicked. “Dad, it’s not like that, you’ve misunderstood! I just…” Scarlett hung her head, wishing the floor would swallow her, and mumbled, “I didn’t say anything…” My mother grabbed her arm, clutching her chest as she fumed, “Scarlett Pierce! How have we treated you all these years?!” “You ate our food, lived under our roof, and this is how you bully Olivia?! Do you have any conscience at all?!” All these years, my parents treated her like their own daughter, showering her with generous gifts and allowances during holidays. Faced with such a betrayal, my mother’s heart naturally ached. Scarlett knew she was in the wrong but stubbornly retorted, raising her head to argue, “If it weren’t for my father, would Mr. Howard be where he is today?” “You don’t even appreciate me, and now you’re ganging up to bully me! What did I do wrong?” My mother rubbed her temples in frustration. “What did we, the Howards, ever deny you? But you insisted on taking Olivia’s… Do you have no shame?!” Then my mother spotted the ruined alligator bag, her hands trembling uncontrollably. “You…! I worked so hard to get that bag! And you destroyed it like this?!” Scarlett nervously stepped back. “So what…? You owe my dad, and that pathetic bag isn’t even enough to repay it!” My mother seemed to lose all hope in that moment, her voice chilling. “Either you pay for it, or I call the police.” Pay for it? That bag was currently worth 500,000 dollars—enough to force her to cough up all the money she’d earned from impersonating a socialite over the years! Hearing the word “police,” Scarlett looked panicked at Ryan, but he was too preoccupied to notice her. Seeing my mother pull out her phone to call the police, she stammered, “Fine, I’ll pay! You’re all fake philanthropists! You give me things only to take them back! It’s disgusting!” My father took a deep breath, choosing to ignore the peculiar Scarlett. He coldly addressed Christopher Carter, “Given the circumstances, we, the Howards, no longer recognize Ryan as our son-in-law! We’ll arrange the divorce tomorrow!” Christopher panicked. While the Carter family was wealthy, they had recently been heavily pressured by competitors, and their stock had plummeted like a stone. He had pleaded with my father for over half a year to secure this marriage, hoping it would prop up the Carter family. Now, everything was ruined by Scarlett and Ryan. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, his face plastered with a forced smile as he addressed me, “Olivia, Ryan was just momentarily confused. Please forgive him. Our Carter family only recognizes you as our daughter-in-law!” My mother-in-law, her face flushed with fury, didn’t say a word. She simply walked up and slapped Scarlett. “It’s all your fault, you vixen! Seducing Ryan!” Then she turned to me, her face beaming with a gentle smile. “That’s right, Olivia, it seems it’s all this vixen’s fault. Don’t be angry!” I turned my head in disgust. “What are you talking about? Scarlett was doing me a favor, testing my husband’s loyalty.” “Now that it’s proven my husband’s a jerk, why would I stay with him?” Scarlett clutched her face, tears streaming down, looking utterly fragile. “I… I didn’t do anything!” “I just said a few words, and those men came at me. Is that my fault? Blame her for being so unlucky!” Even now, she was still putting on an act. I smiled, holding up my phone. “Are you sure you just ‘said a few words’?” “Did you really think by deleting and editing the chat logs, no one would notice?” My father took the phone. After reading through it, his face turned ashen. The phone displayed a group chat with twenty-one members—all my ex-boyfriends. At this moment, they were enthusiastically sending screenshots of their intimate conversations with Scarlett into the group, the content utterly disgusting. In my past life, these jerks were so smitten by Scarlett’s “true heiress” persona that, to curry favor with her, they even conspired to kill me. Reborn, the first thing I did was reconnect with all those jerks and then presented undeniable proof of my true identity, thoroughly humiliating them. When they saw Scarlett’s childhood photos with me, they couldn’t help but mock her. “She really claimed she was naturally beautiful? Which part of her hasn’t been touched up?” “Honestly, if she hadn’t always pulled her collar down, I wouldn’t have even looked at her.” …

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