Category: English

For Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend said he was taking me back to his hometown to meet his family. Instead, the moment we arrived in his isolated backwoods village, he hogtied me and threw me to a mob of men. My boyfriend wrapped his arm around his childhood sweetheart, staring at me with cold indifference. “If I didn’t trick you into coming here, Chloe would be the one going up the mountain to be sacrificed to the Old God.” His little sweetheart gloated, parading in front of me. “Being chosen as the Forest God’s bride is an honor! People beg for this blessing and never get it!” You want this blessing so bad? Take it! Staring at the painfully familiar statue inside the decaying chapel, I wailed like a broken siren. When I ran away from the altar a century ago, the God swore that if he ever caught me again, he would crush me to death! “Carter, even if you don’t want to marry me, did you really have to kidnap me?” I was bound hand and foot, dumped on the freezing mud floor, surrounded by villagers glaring at me with malicious intent. A million possibilities raced through my mind. Was this a human trafficking ring? If he just needed cash, he could have asked! After all, the one thing I have an endless supply of is money. But Carter just held his childhood sweetheart, Chloe, looking at me without a shred of pity. “If I didn’t trick you into coming here, Chloe would be the one going up the mountain to be sacrificed.” “You always said you wanted to get married. Who cares who you marry? Just think of this as doing me a favor.” I thought I had been kidnapped for ransom. I never expected it was a cult sacrifice. Without giving me another glance, he signaled the villagers to take over. “I brought her back. You can do whatever you want with her, but nobody touches Chloe again. We have a deal.” Carter looked down at me, a twisted sense of self-righteousness on his face. “I treated you so well for two years. It’s time for you to repay me.” We had been together for two years. I truly thought Carter loved me. When he pursued me, he was incredibly attentive. Whenever I needed him, he was there. He even spent most of his meager paycheck on me. Different breakfasts every morning, cheap but thoughtful little gifts—I was so moved. I thought that was what true love looked like. I considered myself lucky to have found a good man. It wasn’t until I saw the fiercely protective way he held Chloe that I realized what the look of true love actually was. “Don’t worry, the Forest God only needs one bride. Carry her to the lodge.” The town’s mayor, an old man with rotting yellow teeth, puffed on his pipe. His greasy eyes scanned me up and down. “Tsk. She’s definitely prettier than Chloe. The Old God will love her!” Like a prized pig prepped for slaughter, I was bound so tightly I couldn’t move an inch. They forced me into a vintage crimson gown. They told me I had to be locked inside the unheated lodge for three days to fast and “purify” my body before being offered to the God. The Forest God’s bride had to be a pure, untouched virgin, inside and out. In the dead of winter, tied to a wooden pillar in the freezing chapel, I shivered uncontrollably, starving and freezing. I had already gone through this exact routine once before. Doing it a second time didn’t make it any less miserable. That night, when Carter came in carrying a wool blanket, I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. “I’m begging you, Carter, let me go! I have money, I can pay you!” “If you just let me leave, I’ll give you whatever you want!” When Carter wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, I thought he had finally softened. Instead, his hands slid directly down to my waist. His face twisted into a greasy, greedy smirk. “Let me test the merchandise first. It’s a damn shame to let someone else have you when I haven’t even gotten a taste!” His hands slipped lower, grabbing my leg. For two years, he had completely respected my boundaries, claiming he wanted to wait until marriage because he cherished me so much. That was exactly why I trusted him so deeply, believing he was a decent, honorable man I could rely on. I never suspected that beneath his handsome exterior hid such a nauseating, vile monster. Terrified, I kicked my legs wildly. “What is it going to take for you to let me go?!” Carter’s rough fingers dug into my skin. His eyes were full of calculation. “Give me the passcode to your safe. You’re an orphan anyway, you can’t spend all that wealth yourself.” Staring at his greedy, venomous face, I suddenly calmed down. He wanted the money and my life! Even if I gave him the passcode, he would never let me walk out of here alive. During the honeymoon phase of our relationship, I had foolishly shown him all my cards. The contents of my private vault held enough wealth to last several lifetimes. Back then, I completely missed the flash of pure greed in his eyes. When he acted indifferent, I actually thought he was a man of high morals who didn’t care about money. Turns out, he was worse than any criminal I had ever met! He just hid it better. But right now, begging was my only option. I had to play along. “I really don’t want to be sacrificed. You just want the money, right? We can make a deal!” “I can give you more money than you could ever spend. Just let me go! With that cash, you and Chloe could move anywhere in the world!” Carter seemed tempted. He stroked my cheek, his hands getting bolder. “Such a great body, such a pretty face… Would that bullshit Forest God even know what to do with you?” “I might as well enjoy you first. If you’re a good girl, maybe I really will take you with us!” Carter started rooting around my neck like a pig. Stripped of his disguise, his evil nature was on full display. He was vicious and rough, leaving dark bruises across my pale skin. Just as I was fighting back the urge to vomit and trying to break my bindings, Chloe ran into the lodge, crying hysterically. “You bastard!” Smack! Carter took a hard slap to the face, instantly snapping him out of it. Seeing Chloe’s tear-streaked face, his demeanor flipped. He hugged her, frantically trying to soothe her. “Chloe, it’s not what you think! I didn’t touch her, I was just trying to scare the vault passcode out of her!” “She forced me to do it! Yes, she was trying to seduce me! I didn’t touch her for two whole years, why would I want her now?!” Chloe glared at me with pure venom, acting like she was the ultimate victim, looking like she wanted to eat me alive. “You’ve been together for two years! The Mayor just said she’s prettier than me, I don’t believe you never had feelings for her!” Carter practically dropped to his knees. “I swear I didn’t! She doesn’t even compare to a single strand of your hair! I only dated her for you. She’s a sacrifice for the God, I wouldn’t dare touch her!” Hearing that, Chloe bought it. With a few whimpers, she leaned in, and they started aggressively making out right in front of me. The sick lust he had just directed at me was now being unleashed on Chloe. Watching them act like they were about to consummate things on the chapel floor, I quietly spat on the ground. Disgusting. Terrified they were actually going to put on a live show, I had to speak up. “Are you guys really not going to consider letting me go?” Chloe leaned against Carter, panting, glaring at me like a victorious queen. “Let you go? Then who goes to the God? Don’t try any tricks. If you try to seduce Carter again, I won’t hold back!” Seeing this toxic duo perfectly united in their delusion, I had to play my final card. “Let me tell you the truth. I actually know the Forest God. If you offer me to him, you are going to bring down a terrible curse on yourselves!” Chloe looked at me like I was a mental patient and burst out laughing. “That’s hilarious! You know the Ancient God?” She pointed to the faded portraits hanging in the back of the lodge. “See those? Those are the women who actually met the God. Not a single one of them ever came back alive!” The portraits were of previous sacrificial brides. If they looked closely, one of the heavily faded, ancient portraits in the corner looked exactly like me. But it was covered in a century of dust, totally unnoticeable. Carter frowned, losing his patience. “You’re going crazy because you can’t have me, aren’t you? Playing insane won’t work. I have plenty of ways to make you spit out that passcode!” I kicked my legs out, adopting a “nothing left to lose” attitude. If they weren’t going to let me go, they weren’t getting a dime! I was dead either way! Seeing me turn hostile, Carter slammed his fist into my stomach. “You bitch! Tell me!” I curled in on myself, tasting copper in my mouth, but my glare remained fiercely defiant. Carter raised his fist again, but Chloe stopped him. “Carter, stop. If you bruise her up too badly, the Mayor won’t accept the sacrifice. I have a way to make her talk.” Carter’s face lit up. “Really?” Chloe smiled maliciously, pushing him toward the door. “Of course. Go get some sleep. I promise I’ll get the code.” Once Carter left, I looked at Chloe’s wicked face, a deep sense of dread pooling in my gut. “What are you going to do?” Chloe swung her arm back and slapped me hard across the face, her acrylic nails leaving deep bloody scratches on my cheek. She gritted her teeth. “You really think you’re prettier than me?” My head spun from the impact, my ears ringing. I struggled instinctively. “If you ruin my face, aren’t you afraid you won’t be able to deliver the sacrifice?” Chloe grabbed my jaw. Pulling out several long sewing needles from her pocket, she viciously jabbed them into my arms. “What do I have to be afraid of? Once I get your money, Billy is going to take me far away from here.” “Even if the village investigates, the only ones taking the fall will be you and that cowardly loser, Carter!” “If Carter had just been man enough to protect me years ago, why would I have had to sell myself to all these disgusting men in the village?” “No woman who goes up that mountain comes back alive. You think you have a chance to fight me?” With that, she violently pinched my cheeks open and shoved a squirming, pitch-black insect into my mouth. Before I could spit it out, the bug slithered down my throat. As someone with a lifelong phobia of creepy crawlies, my entire world collapsed. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Forest God’s realm was full of bugs, I wouldn’t have run away from my wedding a hundred years ago! Watching me gag and tear up, Chloe smiled with immense satisfaction. “That’s a Veritas Parasite. Once you swallow it, you can only speak the truth. Now, give me the passcode to the vault!” If she had something this effective, why did she even bother torturing me first?! This evil witch did it on purpose! In the end, she got exactly what she wanted. The vault passcode slipped easily from my lips. The Veritas Parasite lived up to its name; my mouth was completely out of my control. Before Chloe left, she deliberately took a blade and sliced my cheek. The moment she stepped out, a hulking man stepped in. “Billy, didn’t you say you wanted a taste of that bitch? Once you’re done, we’re leaving! You promised you’d take me away from this dump!” Billy looked absolutely thrilled. “Carter is such a coward, how could he hold back with a piece of meat this prime? More for me!” “Good job, babe! I’ll reward you properly later. With that cash, leaving this town is gonna be a breeze!” Chloe left looking overjoyed, pulling the heavy lodge door shut behind her. Covered in blood and barely breathing, I watched the massive man approach, cursing every deity I knew. If I knew I was going to suffer this much in the human world, I would have just stayed on the mountain with the bugs! Terrified I would scream, Billy gagged me tightly with a dirty rag. Just as he was unbuckling his belt, Chloe’s voice shrieked from outside: “Billy! Your dad is coming with the elders!” Billy panicked, yanking his pants back up. He spat on the floor in frustration and shoved a burlap sack over my head. “Damn it! Whatever, with millions of dollars, I can buy whatever woman I want.” The door slammed shut. I heard voices talking outside. Billy, being the Mayor’s son, corroborated Chloe’s story, claiming he had already “inspected” the sacrifice, and shooed the elders away. Gagged and blindfolded, I whimpered as I listened to their footsteps fade away. It wasn’t until the third day that they finally came for me. Starving and barely conscious, with the sack still over my head, I was tossed into a wicker palanquin. As they carried me up the bumpy mountain trail, I used every last ounce of my strength to push the rag out of my mouth with my tongue. If I could just let them see my ruined face, they wouldn’t dare send me up the mountain! The Ancient God only accepted flawless brides. Even a single blemish was considered an insult. My tongue was completely numb by the time the rag finally popped out of my mouth. Using my remaining strength, I threw myself out of the palanquin, crashing onto the dirt trail, trying to scream with my hoarse voice. But all that came out was the metallic taste of blood. I couldn’t form a single coherent word. Three days without food or water, raging with a fever from my infected wounds, my throat felt like it was lined with broken glass. The Mayor panicked. He ordered the men to grab me and shove me back inside. “Oh, please, Bride of the God, stop fighting! If you get bruised, the Old God will unleash his wrath!” “Just accept your fate! This is an honor people beg for!” I let out desperate, raspy hisses, but couldn’t speak. I thrashed violently, and during the struggle, I managed to yank the burlap sack off my head. My heavily scarred, infected, and festering face was exposed to the daylight. The entire procession gasped in collective horror. Carter stared at Chloe in shock, but cowardly chose to keep his mouth shut. The Mayor turned pale. “Who did this?! Who the hell did this?! The God will destroy our town!” One of the villagers nervously suggested, “The damage is done! We have to swap the bride!” Instantly, every single pair of eyes locked onto Chloe. Carter instinctively jumped in front of her. “You promised you wouldn’t touch Chloe!” The Mayor’s face darkened. He brutally kicked Carter to the ground. “To hell with your promises! We’re out of time. It has to be Chloe!” “Or what, are you going to die to appease the God’s wrath?!” Carter, stunned and clutching his stomach, turned deathly pale and didn’t dare make another sound. Seeing his cowardly submission, Chloe ground her teeth in fury and rolled her eyes. “I’m not pure anymore!” she shrieked. “I can’t be the God’s bride! You have to send Scarlett! At least she’s never been touched by a man!” Carter’s jaw dropped. His face flushed beet red with absolute fury. He grabbed Chloe’s arm, shaking her. “What did you just say? I’ve been away working for two years and never laid a hand on you! You’ve been sleeping around behind my back?!” Chloe impatiently ripped her arm away and hid behind the Mayor. “You worthless loser. You disappeared for two years. Did you expect me to wait for you forever?” The surrounding men exchanged knowing, sleazy smirks. Carter’s face burned with humiliation, his eyes looking like he wanted to murder her. “Today is the God’s wedding day! Carter, are you really going to cause a scene?” The Mayor’s eyes roamed over Chloe’s body with a perverse glint, before making the final call. “Enough! We have no other choice. Send Scarlett up the mountain! Let’s just finish the ritual and hope for the best!” I stared at the mob in pure disbelief, fighting with everything I had. But it only earned me a brutal beating. They aimed for my ribs and stomach—places where the bruises wouldn’t be visible. I finally passed out from the pain, blindfolded once again, and tossed into the palanquin in utter despair. When I woke up, I was inside the familiar, ancient temple at the peak of the mountain, surrounded by the chanting of the villagers. Terrified to linger, the cultists quickly retreated and locked the heavy wooden doors. But the next second, I was magically violently hurled through the air, crashing hard onto the stone floor outside the doors. A freezing, booming voice echoed from within the temple: “I said no more women! Get out!” It was the Ancient God! The villagers outside fell to their knees, shivering in terror. Chloe was the first to react. She pulled out a hunting knife and lunged at my throat. “Please calm your wrath, O Great God! We will slaughter the imperfect sacrifice to appease you!” Wait, if he said he didn’t want a woman, why are you killing me?! I frantically rolled to the side. The knife plunged into my shoulder instead. Chloe pounced on me like a rabid animal, tearing away the thin fabric of my crimson gown. On my shoulder, the divine mark the deity had branded me with a century ago was exposed to the freezing air. “You have to die! I am not spending the rest of my life trapped on this mountain with a monster!” Chloe screamed. As the knife came down for a second strike, I squeezed my eyes shut. But from within the dark temple, a voice echoed in pure, shocked disbelief: “Scarlett?!” A blast of gale-force wind erupted from the doors. Chloe was sent flying backward like a ragdoll. The next second, I fell into a freezing, iron-hard embrace, shivering uncontrollably. This terrifyingly familiar sensation… it felt exactly like being coiled up by a giant serpent. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but the entity holding me seemed to be trembling slightly too. From above my head, Silas’s voice spoke through gritted teeth: “You said you’d rather die than stay here. Why did you come back?” “I told you… if I ever saw your face again, I would not spare you!” Weakly, I parted my lips to speak, but all that came out was a mouthful of dark blood. Great. He doesn’t even have to kill me. I’m already dying. I used to be so terrified of being caught by him again. But now, I didn’t find him scary at all. In fact, his freezing cold, scale-like skin felt incredibly soothing against my feverish body. I thought that if I died, Silas would be thrilled. But there wasn’t a trace of joy in him. Instead, his eyes turned blood-red. He gripped my neck, shaking me frantically. “Speak to me!” Even if he strangled me to death right now, I physically couldn’t speak. My throat was agonizingly tight, and I felt like I was fading fast. But I wasn’t afraid. I had lived a long, full life anyway. A hundred years ago, when I was originally offered as a sacrifice, I smashed a vase over the Serpent God’s head, stole the bridal hoard of gold, and ran away. After that, I realized I no longer aged and couldn’t die naturally. Like a freak of nature, I lived from the pioneer days all the way into the modern era. I had lost track of how old I actually was. I don’t know if it was a near-death hallucination, but I felt a powerful, warm current flowing from Silas’s body into mine. I couldn’t seem to take my final breath, so I just closed my eyes and played dead. But that warm energy only grew stronger, knitting my bones back together. Outside, none of the villagers dared to step closer. Everyone knew that those who looked upon the Ancient God never returned. Except for Chloe. Gripping the stone wall, she furiously staggered back to finish me off. But the moment her eyes landed on Silas, she froze in her tracks, a suspicious blush spreading across her cheeks. In utter disbelief, she stammered, “You… you’re the Forest God?” Silas was undeniably breathtaking. He had an otherworldly, razor-sharp beauty, his features completely flawless. Dressed in ancient, flowing black robes, he looked like an immortal god stepped out of a myth. He was gorgeous, sure, but he was literally a giant snake. His body was ice-cold and rock-hard. Not exactly ideal husband material. I was thinking practically, but Chloe was clearly blinded by lust. She had always assumed the Forest God was a grotesque monster. Who knew he was an insanely hot, ethereal being? If he didn’t look like a bug, she was perfectly willing to be his bride. She twisted her body, acting coy and shy. “My Lord, I am actually your true bride! Scarlett dared to impersonate me and desecrate your presence. I’ll throw her out for you right now!” Silas didn’t even spare her a glance. He was too busy glaring down at me, his handsome face radiating immense, overflowing resentment. Seeing him ignore me, Chloe looked thrilled and took a step closer. “My Lord, she’s an ugly monster! I am your destined bride! You must punish her severely!” Carter suddenly rushed forward and grabbed Chloe’s arm. Even though he was wearing the ultimate horns, when push came to shove, he still cared about her.

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When the plane went down, everyone was crying and sending final messages to the people they loved most. I opened my arch-nemesis’s chat and furiously typed out my final words: “Are those two holes in your head just for decoration? Are you fucking blind? Could you really not tell that I like you? “Last time I pretended to be drunk so you’d make a move, you didn’t do shit. Serves you right, it’s too late to regret it now. “I’m hitting reset on my life, asshole—” 1 My body was in a freefall. Hypoxia was blurring my consciousness, and every ounce of strength was draining from my body. After a violent bout of turbulence, my phone slipped from my hand. I instinctively reached out to grab it, but my fingers closed around something soft and warm instead. Strange… is there anything on a plane that feels like this? In the dead silence of the cabin, a voice suddenly echoed. “Hey, how long are you going to hold on?” How was someone still talking? Everyone else had already passed out. “Deaf? Oh… you just don’t want to let go?” There it was again. Closer this time. Clearer. And painfully familiar. My sluggish brain finally processed it. Ah, it was his voice. Just seconds ago, I was furiously typing out my aggressive confession to him, but now, all my bravado was gone. At the very end, I had to admit my nonchalance was entirely faked. Deep down, I was so full of regrets that I was actually having auditory hallucinations. But this voice… why did it sound so distant? It carried a hint of that nostalgic, youthful arrogance. I strained my fading consciousness to think, when suddenly, my arm was yanked. Like a drowning man being pulled from the water, I gasped for air and snapped my eyes open, finally seeing the person in front of me. A raised brow, a recklessly arrogant smile, and a face that was aggressively handsome. Ethan Bennett. In a flash, all my lost senses flooded back into my body. The deafening chirp of summer cicadas filled the air, the hardwood floor gave off a rich scent under the baking sun, and a bead of sweat slowly rolled down my forehead. And I was tightly gripping Ethan’s hand. Was this… an illusion? “Carter Hayes, don’t tell me you’re about to confess your love to me too.” It wasn’t an illusion. I blankly pulled my hand back and opened my palm. Beneath the skin, there was a healthy pink hue, my pulse beating strong and steady. I clenched my fist, opened it, clenched it, opened it. I could control my body. “Did you actually go dumb? Tch, I told you studying too much would turn you into a total nerd.” I looked up and saw the blue trim of Ethan’s high school uniform. It was the summer of 2016. This year, I was a high school junior, and Ethan was a senior. 2 We had never gotten along. I hated how he always acted like a cynical, careless slacker. He hated how I was too rigid, boring, and lifeless. But as fate would have it, his younger brother, Liam Bennett, was my best friend. I always came over to their house after school to do homework. Just like today. “Fucking disgusting.” Ethan leaned lazily against the window, letting out a scoff. I followed his gaze. Down in the small garden below, someone was confessing their feelings to Liam. It was another boy. Out of the three Bennett brothers, Liam, the youngest, had that pretty-boy charm and naturally attracted a lot of suitors. “Fucking queer, doing that shit in someone else’s house. Disgusting, right?” Ethan turned his head, looking straight at me, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. I didn’t know if it was just my imagination, but while his expression was teasing, his eyes were dead serious. He was earnestly waiting for my answer. If I were the seventeen-year-old Carter, even though I couldn’t stand Ethan, I would have agreed with him on this just to avoid a fight. But the soul currently inhabiting this body was twenty-five years old. Over the next eight years, we went through a lot together. My feelings for him morphed from annoyance to love—so much love that, right before I died, he was the only person on my mind. I didn’t want to lie to myself. So I shook my head. “I don’t see the problem.” Ethan froze, his expression inexplicably darkening. “Tch, nerds are so boring.” He turned his back to me, clearly pissed off. I stood rooted to the spot, watching him walk away, feeling a bit lost. I couldn’t tell if this was time travel or reincarnation. But either way, it meant the twenty-five-year-old me was definitely dead. When Ethan heard the news of my death, how would he feel? Would he feel guilty? After all, the only reason I was on that doomed flight was to make it to his engagement party. 3 Eighteen-year-old Ethan hadn’t stepped into the halls of marriage yet. Right now, he was just furious that I couldn’t return his serve. “You’re the top student in our grade but you can’t hit a ball like this?! I practically fed it right to your racket! Are those two eyes of yours just for show?” He yelled so loud my eardrums ached. For some reason, the lingering sensation of impending death still clung to me. I felt like I was still on that plane, my brain suffering from intermittent bouts of vertigo. I lowered my tennis racket. “I’m done playing.” Liam jogged over to smooth things over. “Don’t mind my brother. You know he’s had a trash mouth for years, it’s not targeted at you.” I knew that. Ethan was an equal-opportunity asshole who verbally attacked everyone. But he was especially harsh with me. As I sat on the bench zoning out, a water bottle was suddenly tossed onto my lap. I didn’t catch it, and it rolled onto the ground. “Tch.” Ethan bent over, picked it up, and handed it back. “Drink some. You’re so pale I thought you were gonna drop dead.” When I didn’t move, he muttered a string of curses, took the bottle back, unscrewed the cap, and shoved it forcefully into my hands. “What, your majesty, you waiting for me to feed it to you?” With him taking it that far, I had no choice but to obediently lift the bottle and take a sip. Grapefruit flavor. Sweet. His expression softened, giving off a ‘that’s more like it’ vibe. Then he moved my racket aside and sat down next to me, lazily watching the other two guys rallying on the court. “Did you go to bed past midnight again? Doing those stupid practice tests?” My house and the Bennetts’ house were right next door to each other. Our bedroom windows were only separated by a narrow garden path—close enough that if he was changing his shirt by the window, I could see it the moment I looked up. “Would it kill you to do one less test and sleep earlier? Is your valedictorian spot hanging by a thread on that one single worksheet?” He really had a terrible way of talking. I wasn’t exactly a submissive person, and I had never been polite to Ethan either. Do you want to see me fail that badly? Normally, that’s how I would have fired back. But when I opened my mouth, the words caught in my throat. What came out instead was: “Are you worrying about me?” The moment the words left my lips, Ethan’s pupils shrank, and he shot up to his feet. “Bullshit!” He threw that single word at me and hurried back onto the court. Like a man whose soul had left his body, he completely completely missed every single one of Liam’s serves. I slowly screwed the cap back onto the water bottle, my heart racing uncontrollably. By bringing me back to the past, did God want me to fix my regrets? Or rather, did He want me to see the things I had previously ignored? Take that conversation just now. When I was younger, I only felt targeted and mocked. I never would have considered that Ethan was just being a prickly tsundere, refusing to admit he cared. I pressed a hand to my chest, taking a deep breath to suppress the overwhelming surge of joy. Ethan ran back over, his voice tight. “Fuck, are you feeling sick?” “No.” I shook my head. The sunlight was blindingly bright. If I could live my life over again, Ethan and I… 4 I went to sleep harboring infinite hopes for my second life. Yet, when I woke up, I saw the familiar ceiling of my college dorm room. I thought I was seeing things. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Still in the dorm. I lay there, unmoving. A dreadful realization crept up my spine like cold, damp moss. My ears rang, and my blood ran ice cold. This wasn’t reincarnation, and it wasn’t time travel. It was my life flashing before my eyes right before I died. Fate hadn’t given me a second chance. No miracle had descended. I was still hurtling toward my inevitable death. I couldn’t change a single thing. Liam knocked on my bed frame. “Come straight to my house after class today.” I stiffly turned on my phone. The calendar reminder read: Liam’s Birthday. I would remember this day for the rest of my life. Halfway through Liam’s party, a massive blackout hit the entire neighborhood, and the power company was taking forever to fix it. I navigated the pitch-black streets to walk back to my own house. Ethan followed right behind to walk me home. “You heard them too, right?” It was the exact same dialogue from my memory. “They were sneaking a kiss.” I opened my front door, crouching in the dark entryway, fumbling to take off my shoes. “It’s normal. They’re dating.” Liam had started dating his roommate freshman year, and their relationship was very stable. I was long used to their occasional PDA. Ethan made no move to leave. He leaned against the doorframe. I couldn’t read his expression in the dark. “Carter, if I remember correctly, you still haven’t had your first kiss, right?” This was playing out exactly like my memory. Next, I was supposed to snap back defensively, “So what? Mind your own business.” Then he would magnanimously say, “How pitiful. Why don’t you beg me? I might be willing to do you a favor and help you out.” His version of “help” was pinning me against the wall and kissing me until the power came back on and the lights flooded the room. Afterward, he had explained that it was too dark that night, his senses were heightened, and hearing the wet sounds of Liam and his boyfriend had riled him up. It was just an impulse, and he hoped I wouldn’t overthink it. My heart, which had been beating wildly, plummeted into a silent abyss at those words. To hide my crushing disappointment, I had forced a casual laugh and agreed: Yeah, totally. Two guys kissing is no big deal, basically the same as kissing a slab of pork. Snapping back to the present, Ethan noticed my silence and chuckled. “What, too embarrassed to admit it?” “No,” I denied. “It’s already gone.” Ethan froze, utterly shocked. “With who? Are you seeing someone?” Before I could answer, he started muttering to himself. “Impossible. Liam said you’ve been single this whole time. Oh—are you talking about kindergarten? That little girl with the pigtails? “Carter, that doesn’t count as a fucking first kiss. A kiss is supposed to be with someone you actually like—” He abruptly cut himself off. Ethan was right about one thing: the darkness really did amplify your senses. For instance, right now, I clearly felt his breathing hitch and stumble for a split second. “Hmm?” Curious about what he was going to say next, I feigned realization. “Oh, is that how it works? Then I guess I do still have it. Is there a problem?” Ethan went silent. After a long time, he stuttered out, “Then… do you… need me to…” “Need you to what?” He paused again, taking a deep breath. “Hearing those two going at it… didn’t you feel an urge to… to kiss someone too?” I stared intently into the dark where he stood, and heard myself say, “No.” Actually, I wanted it desperately. But I also knew that no matter what choice I made in this illusion, it wouldn’t change the ultimate outcome. So what if it was meaningless? I just wanted to confirm that all these years, my unrequited love hadn’t been entirely one-sided. Ethan had lost his excuse. We fell into a stalemate. I finally relented. “Okay, maybe I want to a little. But you just said it yourself, it only counts if it’s with someone you like.” Am I someone you like? “You can just pretend I’m the person you like,” Ethan said, stepping closer to me, his scalding breath washing over my face. “Like that underclassman in your club. You’re into her, right? Heard you asked her out to dinner a few times but still haven’t sealed the deal?” Underclassman? It had been so many years since college, I had almost forgotten she even existed. Thinking back, we had teamed up for an academic competition, but there was never anything else between us. “Did I guess right?” Ethan reached out and gripped my chin. For some reason, his grip was unexpectedly tight. “No…” A soft click sounded from above, and the next second, the room flooded with light. I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut. “The power is back.” Ethan stared at me fixedly, his gaze dark and unreadable. He raised his hand and covered my eyes. “No, it’s not.” Warm, soft lips pressed against mine, slowly and deeply grinding against them. I wanted to ask him if the old, emotionally stunted me had missed too many signs. When did you start liking me? Why couldn’t either of us just be a little braver? It was all too late now. I couldn’t bear to push him away. I’ll ask him when this is over. When this kiss ends, I’m going to finally confirm his feelings properly. That way, even if we couldn’t be together in life, I wouldn’t die with regrets. But when I opened my eyes, I was no longer in my entryway. A coworker was supporting my weight as we walked toward a hotel room door, and Ethan’s voice rang out from behind us. “Why did he drink so much?”

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Our new finance manager, Kylie, claimed she was biologically incapable of feeling cold. She said she “ran hot”—a metabolic furnace that necessitated a sub-zero environment. Meanwhile, a polar vortex had descended upon the city, dropping temperatures into the single digits. While the rest of us sat at our desks, teeth chattering and wrapped in blankets, Kylie militantly forbade anyone from touching the thermostat. “It’s not cold,” she’d scoff, rolling her eyes. “You office types just have poor circulation because you never exercise. That’s why you’re weak.” She even convinced our boss, Mr. Davis, to cancel the company shuttle service that picked us up from the train station. She pitched it as a “wellness initiative”—forcing us to walk the two miles would improve our health, she argued, while conveniently slashing “unnecessary overhead.” Davis loved the idea. He cancelled the shuttle immediately. Of course, he continued to drive his heated Range Rover to the door every morning. Because our office was in a remote business park with zero public transit access, my colleagues and I had to wake up two hours earlier just to trudge through the freezing wind. After a month of this, we were all sleep-deprived zombies. Performance dropped, bonuses were slashed, and morale was in the gutter. Just as I was wondering how long I could survive this frozen hellscape, an email pinged in my inbox. It was a resume. The cover letter read: “I suffer from severe chronic cold sensitivity. My ideal work environment is a sauna. I am looking for a company that keeps the heat on 365 days a year.” I slapped my thigh, grinning for the first time in weeks. I grabbed the phone and dialed HR. “I don’t care about her qualifications,” I said. “I want this woman as my assistant. Get her in here yesterday.” 1 “Who turned the heat on? Kill it. Now!” A shrill shriek cut through the office air. But this time, the entire team maintained a collective, practiced deafness. We didn’t look up. We didn’t flinch. Last month, the company had hired Kylie. It was late autumn then, and most of us were already layering up, some even resorting to thermal leggings under our slacks. Kylie, however, had breezed in on her first day wearing a sleeveless summer dress, bare legs on full display. When a colleague politely asked if she wasn’t freezing, she’d slapped her chest proudly. “High metabolism,” she bragged. “I radiate heat. I don’t even own a winter coat.” At first, we thought, fine, her funeral. But then the problems started. A cold front hit hard after a week of rain, dropping the temperature by twenty degrees overnight. The building’s central heating kicked in automatically. But the moment the vents started blowing warm air, Kylie marched over to the control panel and shut it down. “You people are so dramatic,” she lectured, blocking the thermostat with her body. “It’s not even freezing outside yet. I’m actually sweating. If you moved around a bit instead of rotting in your chairs, you wouldn’t have such pathetic constitutions.” The office heating was a central system, but I had a separate zone in my managerial office. Or I did, until she killed the main breaker. My room turned into an icebox instantly. I turned it back on and sent out a memo explicitly forbidding unauthorized tampering with the HVAC. She ignored it. I’d turn it on; she’d turn it off. It was a war of attrition, and we were losing. I was plotting a way to escalate this to HR when, a few days later, the system let out a dying beep and shut down completely. I stormed out, assuming Kylie was at it again. Instead, I found her leaning against the wall, a smug little smirk playing on her lips. “Manager,” she said, feigning innocence. “Don’t look at me. The wiring shorted out. The system couldn’t handle the load. Guess we’re out of luck.” Wiring could be fixed. I called maintenance immediately. The response was grim. “Sorry, the control board is fried. We have to order parts from the manufacturer overseas. With supply chain issues, you’re looking at two months, minimum.” Two months. The heart of winter. We were going to freeze to death. Looking at the triumphant glint in Kylie’s eyes, I knew this wasn’t just bad luck. This was sabotage. 2 I took the issue straight to Mr. Davis. His office was equipped with a sleek, standalone industrial heater. Even with the central air dead, he was toasty warm. The rest of the staff weren’t so lucky. “Alright, Harper, I hear you,” Davis said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll handle it. Give me a week. I won’t let the team freeze.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I assumed he’d authorize portable units or an emergency HVAC replacement. I went back out and rallied the troops, promising them that by Monday, the heat would be back. They grumbled but agreed to tough it out for the weekend. Monday morning arrived. It was somehow colder inside than out. And instead of a repair crew, we got a town hall meeting. Davis stood before us, wrapped in a cashmere scarf. “Moving forward,” he announced, “heating is prohibited unless the indoor temperature drops below freezing.” Before anyone could protest, he continued with that condescending, corporate-dad tone. “I know it’s brisk. But artificial heating is just a band-aid. That’s why, effective immediately, the shuttle service is permanently cancelled. I want you all jogging or power-walking from the train station. By the time you get here, your blood will be pumping so hard you won’t even need a heater.” The silence in the room was absolute. It was the silence of people realizing their boss had lost his mind. “You can thank Kylie for the suggestion,” Davis added, beaming at her. “It cuts costs and promotes cardio. Win-win.” “Right, back to work,” he said, and disappeared into his heated office, leaving us to the tundra. The cheapskate. No heat, and now a forced march to work. Most of the staff couldn’t afford cars. I usually took the train and then a rideshare bike. Riding a bike in this wind was agonizing. Several colleagues quit on the spot. The rest of us—trapped by mortgages and a tough job market—swallowed our rage and put on another sweater. “Harper, you’re late. That’s a fifty-dollar fine. Scan this.” I had just sprinted into the lobby, lungs burning, only to be blocked by Kylie. She was holding up a QR code for the company account, looking entirely too pleased with herself. I looked at the wall clock. 10:01 AM. “I’m not late,” I wheezed, trying to bypass her. “Are you blind?” She grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “10:01. One minute late is still late. Pay up.” I shook her off and pulled out my phone. “Open your eyes and look at the atomic clock, Kylie. It’s 9:56. The wall clock is fast.” I had asked the janitor to set the lobby clock five minutes fast yesterday, specifically to catch people trying to leave early. Seeing the undeniable time on my phone, Kylie’s eyes widened. A few colleagues walked in behind me, checking their own watches. “Weird,” one said loudly. “I’ve got four minutes to spare.” Kylie flushed a blotchy red. “You got lucky this time,” she spat. “You’re all so selfish. If you cared about this company, you’d be here early creating value, not sliding in at the deadline.” Mr. Davis walked in right at that moment. I turned to him. “Mr. Davis, Kylie just called you selfish for not coming in early to create value.” My colleagues nodded vigorously. “She definitely said that, boss. We all heard it.” Davis’s face darkened. Kylie opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “Stop playing hall monitor and get to work.” As she slunk away, I exchanged a look with my team. For the first time in weeks, we smiled. “It’s colder than a morgue in here,” one colleague whispered. “My electric scooter has a better windshield than this building.” Watching Kylie eat crow warmed me up more than a heater ever could. But it wasn’t enough. 3 A few days later, I was in a meeting with a client who manufactured outdoor gear. They were beta-testing a new line of portable, high-efficiency space heaters. When I mentioned our HVAC situation, the client insisted on sending over a dozen units for “field testing.” They arrived the next day. I distributed them immediately. The hum of the heaters was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. For the first time, I could type without my fingers stiffening. “What do you think you’re doing?! Where did these come from? Turn them off!” Kylie stormed into the bullpen, screeching like a banshee the moment she felt the warmth. I stood up, my expression icy. “These are client prototypes. We are required to use them and provide feedback reports. Unless you want to explain to the client why we breached our contract?” “Mr. Davis is in Europe for two weeks,” I added, stepping closer to her. “So save the drama.” “I don’t care!” Kylie yelled. “Look at the electricity usage! Turn them off, or go run laps outside if you’re cold!” She lunged for the nearest desk and yanked the plug out of the wall. That was the last straw. The team had reached their breaking point. “Don’t you dare,” a quiet analyst named Sarah said, standing up. “Touch my heater again, and I swear…” “You class traitor,” another colleague shouted. “Go find a streetlamp to hang from!” The entire team formed a protective wall around the heaters. Kylie, realizing she was outnumbered, backed off, muttering threats. We worked in blissful warmth for the rest of the day. Near closing time, I was shutting down my computer when a deafening crash echoed from the lobby. The glass doors were kicked open. A man—built like a linebacker and looking twice as angry—stormed in. “Who turned on the heat?! You trying to give my baby heatstroke? Where’s the manager? Get out here!” My staff froze. I looked through my blinds and saw Kylie sprinting toward him. “Brock! It’s them! They forced the heaters on! It’s like an oven in here, I’m dying!” I recognized the type immediately. I dialed 911 from my desk, whispering for them to hurry, before stepping out. “Brock, honey, that’s her! She brought the heaters!” Kylie pointed a manicured finger at me. Brock marched up to me, nostrils flaring. “You the manager? I hear you’ve been bullying my girl.” I held my ground. “It is forty-six degrees in this office. If your ‘baby’ is overheating, I suggest a thyroid check at the nearest ER.” Emboldened by her human shield, Kylie smirked. “I told you, I have high yang energy. I run hot. But a bitter, single old woman like you wouldn’t understand. Having a warm man beside you is better than any heater.” I stared at her, unimpressed. “Then why are you here? Go stay home and hug your husband. The police are on their way. I suggest you leave.” 4 “You called the cops?” Brock roared. “You got some nerve.” “She almost killed me with this heat!” Kylie shrieked. “She should be arrested!” Brock grabbed me by the collar, raising a fist the size of a ham. “Touch me and you’ll lose everything,” I shouted, staring him in the eye. “We have cameras. Do you have enough equity in your house to cover the lawsuit? This isn’t a bar fight.” He hesitated. He wanted me to cower. My refusal to flinch confused him. “I’ll show you heaters!” He shoved me backward, turned, and kicked the nearest space heater across the room. Then he stomped on another one, shattering the casing. Sirens wailed outside. When the officers entered, I pointed to the broken electronics and the security camera. “Assault, destruction of property, making threats. It’s all on tape.” “Pfft,” Brock scoffed. “I know she got those free from a client. They didn’t cost you a dime. You can’t sue for damages on free junk.” Kylie suddenly clutched her forehead, swaying theatrically. “Oh god, I’m dizzy… I think… I think the heat gave me heatstroke…” It was a masterclass in gaslighting. They refused to pay for the heaters and demanded we pay Kylie’s medical bills for her “heat-induced trauma.” The police, useless as ever in civil disputes, gave them a stern talking-to and told us to “work it out amongst ourselves.” That night, two more colleagues resigned. “Harper, I can’t do it,” one texted me. “I’m losing money working here just paying for flu meds.” I didn’t blame them. I went home, exhausted. I opened my laptop to check the HR portal, and that’s when I saw the resume again. “Severe cold sensitivity… left previous job due to lack of heating… strictly require a hot environment.” Nova. I sat up straight. This wasn’t just a candidate. This was a biological weapon. I emailed HR immediately. “Hire Nova as my personal assistant. Start date: Monday.” Kylie was Fire. Nova was Ice. It was time for a thermodynamic showdown. Over the weekend, while the office was empty, I hired a private contractor to look at the AC. “Nothing major,” the guy said, tinkering with the panel. “Just a crossed wire. Fixed it in two minutes. That’ll be twenty-five bucks for the call-out.” I realized then that the building’s maintenance guy—Mr. Davis’s nephew—had lied. He and Davis had probably cooked up the “broken part” story to save on the electric bill. Monday morning, I arrived at 7:00 AM. I cranked the thermostat to eighty degrees. When the staff arrived, they practically cried with relief. Then Kylie walked in. Her face turned purple. “Who turned it on?! Are you insane? You trying to kill me?” “I’m calling Brock! If I faint, you’re all paying for it!” As she screamed, the door to my office opened. Nova stepped out. She was wearing a thick wool cardigan even in the eighty-degree heat. “Who keeps trying to turn off my heat?” Nova asked, her voice calm but sharp. “I have a medical condition. If I get hypothermia, which one of you is writing the check?” Kylie stared at her. “Showtime,” I whispered to myself.

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In the seventh year of our marriage, Arthur Sterling’s true, playboy nature was finally exposed. He tricked me into taking an experimental drug designed to induce temporary amnesia, making me forget him entirely. While I was “forgetting,” he brought another woman into our marital home, flaunting their affair. He even threw her a massive, lavish wedding. But what he didn’t know was that my memory had already completely returned. I continued to fake my amnesia, playing along with his elaborate performance. When I quietly bowed out to let them be together, Arthur lost his mind trying to find me. He broke down, sobbing hysterically: “Chloe, it was all my fault! Will you please just take the pill one more time?” “This time, I promise I’ll make you forget all the pain, and you’ll fall in love with me all over again.” 1 In the third month of my supposed amnesia, my memories finally came rushing back. I was just about to push open the study door and share the good news with Arthur. When I accidentally overheard his best friend talking: “Arthur, where the hell did you get that drug?” “When my wife and I hit the seven-year itch, I need to give her a dose of that amnesia pill too. You get to have a mistress without getting caught, and it keeps the marriage perfectly intact.” I froze outside the door, my trembling hand pulling back from the handle. The casual banter inside sent a violent chill down my spine. My amnesia wasn’t from a car crash… it was intentional! And my own husband, Arthur Sterling, was the one who did it. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, but I couldn’t even feel the pain. Arthur was leaning lazily against the leather sofa, holding the antidote in one hand, while kissing a sexy woman sitting next to him with the other. “In a month, I’ll give Chloe the antidote.” “Then I’ll dedicate myself to taking care of her. I’ll be the perfect husband and a great father from then on.” One of his friends gave him a thumbs-up, looking at him with a smirking, entertained expression. “Arthur, just don’t get addicted to the thrill. You might find it hard to give up the entire forest just for one tree.” Arthur chuckled mockingly. “The only woman I truly love is Chloe. The rest are just for fun.” “Careful, Artie.” “If that drug fails, and Chloe finds out you’ve been messing around… with her personality, she’ll definitely divorce you.” “Yeah, man. You’ve had your fun tonight. Go home and slip her another pill. The more she forgets, the safer you are.” His friends were eagerly offering terrible advice, but Arthur looked incredibly confident. “Her dad died three months ago. Chloe still doesn’t even know.” “She’s an orphan now. No one in the world loves her as much as I do. She will absolutely never leave me.” He twisted the wedding band on his finger, his eyes full of absolute certainty. The men in the room were completely envious, practically begging Arthur for a few pills to slip to their own wives. I stumbled backward, barely able to keep my balance. Arthur and I had known each other for ten years. High school sweethearts. For me, the notoriously lazy bad boy had studied relentlessly to get into a top-tier university. For our future, he gave up his passion for racing to start a grounded, practical tech company. All so I wouldn’t have to struggle. When Arthur’s company went public, he held my hand and we rang the opening bell on Wall Street together. Right there on the trading floor, he dropped to one knee and proposed: “Marry me!” “I, Arthur Sterling, offer the entire Sterling empire as your dowry.” I truly believed he was my forever. Yet here he was, intentionally erasing my memory, deceiving me. 2 Three months ago, my memory started getting hazy and chaotic. Arthur lied to me, saying it was trauma from a minor car accident, and pretended to take me to endless doctors. It turns out, the “medication” he was giving me to “cure” my memory loss was actually the drug causing it. The man I trusted most in the world was playing a sick, twisted game with my emotions. The heartbreak was so severe I could barely breathe. Coupled with the devastating news of my father’s passing, a heavy, crushing weight settled deep in my chest. Freezing rain began to fall. Memories flooded my mind like a surging tide. During my amnesia, Arthur would often smile and gently test me: “Chloe, what do you think our relationship is?” I would shake my head. He would say, “Chloe, we’re best friends. I’m helping your husband take care of you.” Friends? I laughed bitterly at myself. The rain soaked me down to my bones. 3 I returned home like a walking ghost, quickly filled out the application forms, and ran straight to my former professor’s office. “Professor, can I still join the classified research project?” “Someone with your talent? Anytime. But…” After his initial excitement, the professor looked slightly hesitant. “Arthur has always been so protective of you. He didn’t want you working because he was afraid it would be too hard on you.” “Once you enter the secure facility, you’ll be working under an alias. You might not see your family for ten, maybe even twenty years. It’s nothing like living the life of a billionaire’s wife. Do you want six months to think about it?” I didn’t hesitate. “No need. I’ll be ready to join in one month.” If the rest of my life had to be dedicated to a husband like Arthur. I would rather burn out the rest of my days in a lab, dedicating myself entirely to biomedical research. The professor respected my decision and didn’t press further. “If you’ve truly made up your mind, we would be honored to have you join the project.” My gaze was unwavering. “I don’t have any attachments holding me back anymore.” Right now, I was exactly what Arthur called me: an orphan. I had no family, and I certainly didn’t need a husband. 4 “Where are you?” Arthur called me. I quickly suppressed the chaotic storm of emotions in my chest before forcing out the words, “Artie.” Hearing that I still hadn’t “woken up,” the man on the other end let out a clear sigh of relief. “Chloe, come home early. It’s time for your medicine.” “Okay.” Hearing him arrange for me to take the drug again sent a violent chill through my entire body. I was completely, utterly disgusted by this husband. I had told him once, long ago, that if the day ever came when he didn’t love me anymore, he just had to be honest, and I would gracefully bow out. But clearly, Arthur confused the desire for control with actual love. I refused to settle for a love that was tainted. I didn’t even have the energy to expose his sick game. I just had to play along for one final act. Then, we would be completely, permanently done. 5 When I pushed open the front door, Arthur was sitting leisurely on the sofa, looking impeccably handsome in a tailored black suit. For a split second, I felt a familiar flutter in my chest, but then he walked over, holding a glass of water and the pill. “Chloe, take your medicine. You’ll remember everything soon.” Taking the pill from him, I stared directly into eyes that used sincerity to mask absolute deceit. “How soon is ‘soon’?” Having never questioned him before, my sudden inquiry made Arthur’s eyes dart away evasively. “…I’m not a doctor. But I would never hurt you.” “Don’t you trust me, Chloe? We’ve been best friends since we were kids.” I gave a bitter, mocking smile. I swallowed the pill right in front of him. I saw the flash of immense relief wash over his face. What he didn’t know… Was that the second I turned my back, I spit the pill I had hidden under my tongue directly into the toilet. 6 Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I wiped away the tears of sheer heartbreak. “Arthur Sterling, you will never lie to me again.” Taking advantage of Arthur going out on a date, I walked into our old master bedroom. I dug through his drawers and found our marriage certificate. He had wrapped it in several layers of newspaper and hidden it deep in the back. During my “amnesia,” he had set me up in the guest bedroom. Arthur had taken all our photos together and hidden them in the basement, creating the perfect illusion that I was just a temporary houseguest. All so he could openly bring different women home. And sleep with them… right in front of me, in our marital bed. I gathered everything from the basement and the hidden spots in the master bedroom—anything that proved I existed—and hauled it all to the empty fire pit in the backyard, ready to burn it. A sleek, customized Lotus sports car pulled into the driveway. This was the tenth woman Arthur had brought home. He had been seeing her for three months; a significantly longer run than the previous ones. He pressed a kiss to the girl’s blushing cheek before strolling over toward the glow of the fire. “Chloe, what are you burning?” I was burning everything face down. Arthur couldn’t tell that our marriage certificate and wedding photos were hidden beneath the flames. “Just some old, useless sketches that I couldn’t sell. They were taking up space.” Arthur’s eyes filled with genuine regret. “Don’t burn them. I’ll buy them from you.” During my two years as a stay-at-home wife, since I couldn’t work in the lab, I had taken up painting. And during my amnesia, painting was the only thing I remembered how to do. So, he knew exactly how much I cherished my artwork. Arthur looked distressed. He reached his hand toward the fire, clearly wanting to salvage whatever he could. I swatted his hand away firmly. “They’re defective. There’s no point in saving them.” Arthur clutched his chest, a flicker of unease passing through his eyes. “If you have any more drafts you don’t want, sell them to me.” “Actually… I really love… your paintings.” I clearly saw the flash of deep, genuine emotion he accidentally let slip. I knew he loved the artist, not the art. But right now, wracked with guilt and secrecy, he didn’t dare admit it. I smiled faintly. “You should be focusing on Ms. Evans. My paintings aren’t anything special.” Evelyn Evans smirked and leaned into Arthur’s embrace. “Arthur, weren’t we going to go play some games?” He looked down at Evelyn with indulgent affection. “Let’s go.” I watched their retreating backs as they walked intimately into the house. He loved being wild and free. I was going to let him have it.

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My protégé had just stolen a five-million-dollar wealth management contract right out from under me. She stood there, waving the freshly signed receipt in my face, looking incredibly smug. “Mentor, the client specifically asked to open the account under my name. I couldn’t exactly push the business away, could I?” “If you want to blame someone, blame yourself. You’re getting old, and you move too slow.” “Don’t look at me with that bitter, wrinkly face! Tell you what, I’ll treat you to a bubble tea to make up for it.” Somehow, her words twisted the situation to make me look like the petty one. And of course, the branch manager stepped in to play peacemaker, telling me not to be so hard on the “young girl.” Had they both forgotten that my portfolio practically funded over half of this entire branch? Chapter 1 I rushed back to the office right on time, only to hear the news that my client had been poached. I went straight to Chloe. Chloe had completely dropped her usual sweet, respectful act. Holding the signed receipt, she looked at me with absolute justification. “Mentor, you can’t blame me for this.” “You weren’t here. We couldn’t just leave a VIP client sitting in the lobby waiting, so I stepped in to host him for you.” “If it wasn’t for me, you would have completely offended the client! And instead of thanking me, you’re accusing me of stealing your commission?” “Besides, Mr. Vance insisted on buying the portfolio through me. What was I supposed to do?” “I couldn’t just reject the firm’s business!” “At the end of the day, you were the one who was late, Mentor. Who else is there to blame?” I had a 10:00 AM appointment with the client. He arrived exactly five minutes early. In what universe does a five-minute window naturally lead to closing a five-million-dollar deal? She claimed she didn’t use my name to secure the signature. Bullshit. Right then, my phone buzzed with a text from Mr. Vance: [Hey Elena, are you feeling alright? I just realized my portfolio manager isn’t listed as you. Did you guys have some internal restructuring?] What could I say? I had to lie and tell him it was a system error, assuring him that I was still his dedicated wealth manager. After replying, I looked back at Chloe’s unapologetic face and demanded, “Did you use my name to poach my client?” “Chloe, do you have a death wish in this industry?” Stealing clients is the ultimate taboo for wealth managers. For her to do it this blatantly, there was no way management didn’t know. Furthermore, I was her mentor. I had personally trained her from her very first day on the job. If word got out that she stole a client from her own mentor, no firm in the city would ever hire her again. “While this is still quiet, I strongly suggest you go to operations and transfer that account back to my name.” Mixing threats with reason was the absolute limit of my patience. I genuinely hoped she would be smart enough not to blow this up and make everyone look bad in the office. But Chloe just looked at me with a cocky, lackadaisical smirk. “Mentor, you must be joking.” “Why would I hand over my client to you?” “Just because you’re my mentor, I’m supposed to surrender my commission?” “You neglected the client. I managed to retain him. That’s my skill. Being my mentor doesn’t give you a free pass.” “I might be a fresh grad, but I’m not some pushover you can just bully.” Wow. She actually thought she was taking a brave stand. I was so furious I actually laughed. I reached out to grab the receipt from her hand to go fix the transfer, but she blocked me. “Mentor, why are you so mad?” “Aren’t we all just regular employees here? Nobody is better than anybody else.” “As long as the client signs with our firm, what difference does it make whose name is on the paper?” “Tell you what, I’ll buy you a Starbucks. Get the most expensive Frappuccino on the menu. Consider it a thank you for everything you’ve taught me.” Looking at her triumphant, smug face, I wanted to slap myself. Chloe had been glued to my side since she was hired right out of college. She was my junior from the same university, graduated from the same finance program. Naturally, I took her under my wing and invested a lot of time in her. I poured my heart and soul into teaching her how to source leads and maintain client relationships. Over the past few months, Chloe had consistently ranked number one among the new hires. I had been genuinely happy for her, frequently offering advice when she made missteps. I even taught her the unwritten rules of corporate gifting for high-net-worth clients during the holidays. I never, in a million years, expected her to stab me in the back. “I can’t afford your coffee.” “And don’t call me Mentor anymore. I clearly have nothing left to teach a ‘superstar’ who steals her colleagues’ clients.” I was seething. But Chloe just shrugged carelessly. “Fine, don’t drink it. Saves me money.” “Why are you acting like such a victim? You’re getting older, your reflexes are slow. Are young people not allowed to be ambitious anymore?” “No matter who you tell, I’m in the right here.” “You’re just a washed-up older woman. I called you Mentor to be polite, did you really think you were that important?” “Honestly, I don’t want to call you that anyway. From now on, every man for himself.” “But Mr. Vance is officially my client now. So stop dreaming about stealing him back.” Chapter 2 I didn’t bother listening to the rest of her tough-girl speech. I turned on my heel and marched straight to the Branch Manager’s office. Manager Sterling seemed to already know exactly why I was there. Before I could even speak, he started trying to pacify me. “Elena, listen. The ink is already dry on the contract. If you start fighting your own protégé over a client, it’s going to look terrible for everyone.” “Besides, you weren’t here. Making a VIP client wait that long is a failure on the firm’s part.” “Chloe was actually covering for you.” I suppressed the fire burning in my chest and explained calmly: “When Mr. Vance arrived, I was already pulling into the parking garage. Chloe deliberately parked her car horizontally across the access aisle, which is why I was delayed by a few minutes.” “I already spoke to Mr. Vance on the phone. Why did Chloe still process the paperwork under the pretense that she was acting on my behalf?” I shoved my phone across the desk, showing him Mr. Vance’s text. “Mr. Vance still has no idea what actually happened. Who exactly is stealing whose client here?” My tone sharpened. Manager Sterling’s face hardened in response. “Elena, I think you’ve let your ego get way out of control lately.” “I have never heard of a wealth manager making a VIP wait. You made a mistake, and now you’re blaming your coworkers?” “Chloe fixed your massive screw-up. Instead of thanking her, you’re accusing her of theft?!” “If it wasn’t for her, Mr. Vance probably would have walked right out the door!” Now I understood perfectly. Manager Sterling and Chloe were in this together. For him to defend her this aggressively… it was impossible not to suspect he had orchestrated this whole thing. Seeing my face flush with anger, Manager Sterling softened his tone, switching to his usual manipulative tactics. “You’re her mentor. Her securing a massive client is partly a reflection of your excellent training.” “Tell you what, I’ll approve two days of PTO for you. Go home, rest up, and really think about whether your behavior today was professional.” “Elena, you need to learn to be content. Your monthly commission is the highest in the entire branch. You make more money than I do.” “What more do you want?” Carrot and stick. It was his classic playbook, and he thought it would work on me. Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten one crucial detail: I didn’t apply for this job. I was aggressively headhunted by the previous branch manager. I brought a massive book of business with me. My portfolio brought in an average of nearly $15 million in new daily deposits, essentially subsidizing the salaries of over half the staff in this building. My high income was entirely due to my own hustle and connections. It had absolutely zero to do with his “leadership.” In that exact moment, I made the decision to jump ship. “Manager Sterling, since the commission for Mr. Vance’s account is going to Chloe, I’ll be sure to contact him and let him know. Also, I expect Chloe to reimburse me for the expenses incurred in securing his business.” “From the day I started courting Mr. Vance until this morning, I’ve spent roughly $1,500 out of pocket on gifts and dinners. I’ll compile an itemized expense report. Please make sure Chloe is aware she needs to pay it.” His eyes widened in absolute shock. “Elena, you are being completely ridiculous.” “Those were your personal, out-of-pocket expenses! Why should Chloe reimburse you?!” “Just because you claim it was for client maintenance doesn’t make it a firm-mandated expense!” “I think you’re just bitter and trying to sabotage our most promising new hire!” “Elena, we’re all veterans here. The firm needs fresh blood to survive. You can’t just hoard the top-biller spot forever. You have to leave some room for the rookies to grow.” “This matter is closed. Mr. Vance was hosted by Chloe, and he signed the paperwork with Chloe. He is her client.” “If you’re feeling generous, you should actually transfer a few more of your accounts to your protégé. But if you aren’t, you at least shouldn’t stand in the way of someone else’s ambition.” “Elena, I’m warning you for your own good. Don’t try any underhanded tricks.” I honestly couldn’t hold it in anymore. I burst out laughing. I had never heard of anyone “hoarding” the top-biller spot like it was a reserved parking space. Every top-performing wealth manager in this industry either had massive generational wealth connections, insane luck, or legendary networking skills. I had never heard of a veteran willingly handing over their top rank to a rookie out of the goodness of their heart. Manager Sterling had been parachuted into this role from the IT department. He was a classic case of an amateur trying to dictate to a professional. I couldn’t be bothered to argue with him anymore. I pulled out my laptop, opened the HR portal, typed out my formal letter of resignation, and hit send. Chapter 3 As I walked out of the manager’s office, Chloe happened to be strolling by, still waving that signed receipt. Seeing me, she smirked and flicked the paper in my direction. “Got the door slammed in your face, huh?” “Elena, the times have changed. In today’s market, results are the only thing that matters. Seniority means nothing.” “You only have a big portfolio because you got lucky and entered the industry a few years before I did.” “Did you honestly think it was because of your skill?” “If you actually had skill, Mr. Vance wouldn’t have signed with me so easily.” With that, she adjusted her collar, put on a sickeningly sweet voice, and strutted into the manager’s office. “Manager Sterling~ See, I told you I could close Mr. Vance!~” “Look~ The five million dollar transfer went straight into my account, just like a good boy~” Chloe didn’t bother keeping her voice down. She clearly wanted me to hear every word. I paused by the door, waiting to hear Sterling’s response. “Chloe, don’t get arrogant just yet. You still have a long way to go to catch up to Elena.” “As far as I know, she single-handedly accounts for over half the growth in this branch’s AUM. If you can figure out a way to take over her portfolio…” “Don’t worry, Manager Sterling! I can absolutely handle it.” “I shadowed her for months. I already memorized all her little tricks for client retention.” “It’s just chatting them up and sending them cheap gifts. Those rich people love feeling like they’re getting special treatment. Give them a few minor perks, and they’ll come begging to deposit their money.” She paused, perfectly timing her pivot to flatter him. “But mostly, it’s because our firm’s products are so strong.” “Under your brilliant leadership, Manager Sterling, our branch is already the top performer in the region. Everyone in the industry is so jealous we have you!~” That hit the exact right spot. Sterling had always felt insecure about being an external hire with no finance background. He knew the staff didn’t respect him and only kept their mouths shut because of his title. But he wasn’t completely blind. He could feel the resentment. Chloe’s aggressive flattery inflated his ego to the size of a blimp. “Mm. I knew I didn’t misjudge you.” “I don’t know why Elena walks around acting so high and mighty. She’s literally just selling the products we provide.” Chloe immediately agreed. “Exactly! If it wasn’t for your brilliant strategic direction, she would be nothing.” “She actually thinks her success is entirely her own doing.” “She’s just a sales rep. People call her ‘Manager’ to be polite, and she actually thinks she’s an executive?” “Zero self-awareness.” Their voices dropped lower, but I could still clearly hear Sterling’s smug reply. “My advice to park your car horizontally across the aisle worked perfectly, didn’t it?” “If it wasn’t for my strategic guidance, you never would have stalled her that long.” “Experience matters, Chloe. You still have a lot to learn from me.” Chapter 4 Listening to the two of them plotting and whispering in the office, I couldn’t stomach another second. I headed straight for the HR department to expedite my offboarding. Linda, the HR Director, stared at me in absolute shock. “What?! Elena, you’re resigning?!” “If you leave, what is this branch going to do?” “Did Sterling try to screw you over?” “Oh my god. I used to think he was just incompetent. Now I realize he’s actually brain-dead!” “He spends all day micromanaging formatting issues instead of doing actual business! I’ve rewritten this staffing report ten times! He just told me the tenth draft is worse than the first!!!” I tried to calm Linda down, explaining the entire situation with Chloe and the poached client. She immediately approved my resignation in the system. “I am pushing this through with priority!” “She actually had the nerve to steal your client?! After you specifically asked all of us to look out for her when she was hired?!” “What an ungrateful little snake.” She was even angrier than I was. After dragging Chloe’s name through the mud for another five minutes, she looked at me hesitantly. “So… that five million dollar commission really just goes to Chloe?” “She just gets away with it?!” “I am so mad my blood pressure is spiking! Elena, what do we do?!” I patted her back and gave her a deeply mysterious smile. “Don’t worry, Linda. They aren’t getting a dime out of this.” Chapter 5 My resignation was immediately forwarded to Corporate HQ. Linda secretly texted me to let me know that Manager Sterling had written a massive, 500-word essay in the “Manager’s Comments” section, entirely dedicated to assassinating my character and calling me arrogant. “His ability to twist the truth is honestly impressive.” “He wrote that you constantly neglected clients, slacked off during work hours, were frequently absent from the office, and spent your entire workday just chatting with people.” “Even an HR rep like me knows that a wealth manager’s job is literally to network and chat with clients. How does the branch manager not know that?” “I’m just sad you won’t get your severance package. That would have been a massive payout.” Looking at the notification that Corporate had already approved my resignation, I replied calmly: “Linda, do you know how much interest my clients’ portfolios generate on a daily basis?” “Every day I leave earlier is a massive financial win for me.” Everyone at the branch only knew that I was recruited here with a $15 million portfolio already under my belt. Maintaining a massive daily deposit growth rate isn’t just about having good financial products. Honestly, without serious connections, it’s mathematically impossible. With that much liquid cash, these CEOs aren’t idiots. Why would they park their money with me just to earn standard, low-tier interest? If it wasn’t for the $150 million trust fund my dad set up for me, combined with him constantly dragging me to high-level networking dinners with his billionaire friends, I never would have hit those numbers. It wasn’t like other firms hadn’t tried to poach me. But this firm actually had decent products, the benefits were good, and most importantly, it was a ten-minute drive from my house. My dad only ever asked one thing of me: come home for dinner more often. Saying goodbye to Linda, I went back to my desk to pack up my things. After working here for years, I did have some sentimental attachment to the place. I backed up all my client chat logs to my personal cloud, wiped my desktop hard drive clean, and took all my physical notebooks containing my clients’ personal preferences to the heavy-duty paper shredder. Only then did I grab my box to leave. Unfortunately, I bumped into Chloe, who had just returned from a long lunch break at the salon. She dramatically pointed at my cardboard box. “Elena, why are you resigning?” “Are you scared my numbers are going to crush yours next month, so you’re running away while you still have your dignity?” “Oh well, it’s totally normal. You couldn’t stay the top-biller forever.” “Sigh. The economy is tough right now. Without my elite networking skills and background, bringing in new deposits must have been exhausting for you.” “Maybe you could try cold-calling people from the phone book?” Her face was twisted into such a punchable, smug sneer. I couldn’t wait to see how long she’d be smiling. To avoid the drama, I brushed off the spot on my shoulder where she had accidentally bumped me, my tone dripping with sarcasm: “The firm’s entire future rests on the shoulders of exceptional talent like you.” “Keep up the hard work. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Manager Sterling.” She was momentarily speechless, her face flushing bright red before she glared at me. “I don’t need you to tell me that!” “Don’t worry, the student has already surpassed the master. You’re just old and useless now.” I ignored her pathetic taunts and started saying my goodbyes to the veteran staff around the office. They looked genuinely sad to see me go. Several of them hugged me, whispering, “When you make it big, don’t forget us!” Right then, Chloe aggressively shoved her way through the crowd and violently slapped the cardboard box out of my hands. “Leaving in such a hurry, Elena? Are you trying to steal company property?!” “I need to inspect everything in that box!”

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After dinner, I sat in Ryan’s lap, his chin resting on the crook of my neck. Suddenly, he said, “Honey, why do you feel so tiny?” I froze. While I was 5’3″ and Ryan was 6’2″, we’d been together for six whole years. How could he not be used to my size? I playfully retorted, “What, after six years, you’re just now noticing I’m ‘tiny’?” Ryan realized his slip, pretending nothing happened by lifting me and kissing me fiercely against the wall. After the kiss, he coaxed me in an intimate tone: “How could I, honey?” “I love that feeling of being able to wrap my arms completely around your petite frame.” That night, Ryan tirelessly pinned me to the bed, with a hint of punishment in his touch. Even my sister, when she brought me gifts from abroad the next day, teased: “Tsk tsk, Ryan really isn’t afraid of breaking your delicate little body.” But I just held her hand and said, “Sis, I need to call off the wedding with Ryan.” 1 “Ann, could it be a misunderstanding?” My sister took the lunch delivery from the door, arranging the containers one by one: “Look, for six years, Ryan has consistently made sure your life is perfectly arranged.” “Even Mom and Dad say he’s spoiled you like a princess.” “He’s a decisive, no-nonsense executive outside, but at home, he’s your loyal golden retriever.” I clutched the cartoon blanket tighter around me, saying nothing. Even this blanket, Ryan had waited in line for three hours at Disney to buy for me. Sometimes I’d feel I was too much of a princess, but he’d just smile and say, “Ann is a treasure sent by heaven out of pity for me.” “Aren’t treasures meant to be spoiled?” Just then, Ryan’s exclusive ringtone sounded. As soon as I answered, his urgent voice came through: “Honey, the chef put shrimp paste in today’s pasta. Don’t eat it.” “I just saw the new menu details.” “Either give it to your sister or throw it away~ Hubby will take you out for something delicious tonight, okay?” Listening to his usual tender instructions, a wave of bitterness surged. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I mumbled, “Okay.” After the call, my sister, with a teasing look, pulled the pasta toward herself. “Your husband certainly remembers everything, even checking again after ordering takeout.” “You’re telling me this Ryan cheated? I don’t believe it.” I remained silent, my heart a mix of emotions. Ever since I had that mild seafood allergy and broke out in a rash. Ryan was so worried he didn’t close his eyes all night, staying with me as I got an IV drip. His eyes were red: “Honey, I’ll absolutely check your food carefully from now on.” Now, he certainly kept that promise. But the next second, the last takeout box “snapped” open. Inside was a steamed egg, generously sprinkled with chopped scallions. My hand froze. “Huh? ‘Steamed egg with extra scallions: My wife likes it.’ Ann, don’t you hate scallions in steamed eggs?” My sister, holding the order slip, saw my expression. Her face also began to grow serious. “So, he really has another wife out there?” Meticulous as Ryan was, he had never given me even one steamed egg with scallions. Combined with what Ryan said last night. I sat numbly on the sofa, an unnamed bitterness creeping through my entire body. After a long while, I finally managed a self-deprecating smile. “Yes. Ryan, he definitely cheated.” My fiancé, not only hugged other women, but also meticulously ordered meals for her. These things used to be exclusively mine. So, that woman is tall and loves scallions, is that it? I decisively grabbed my car keys and walked out. “Sis, I’m going to Ryan’s company.” I wanted to see what kind of woman could steal the Ryan who had loved me for six years. 2 I had considered countless possibilities. The woman could be a secretary looking to climb the ladder, a pure and innocent intern, or even some social climber trying to hook into the Sterling family. But none of them were true. Ryan had been on set recently, shooting a company promotional video. When I stormed in, I only needed one glance at the woman. And just like that, I completely felt that Ryan and I were truly over. Ms. Evelyn Grant, 5’9″, with wavy hair. She was the female model for the promotional video. To be precise, she was a disabled female model. Her left calf was fitted with a prosthetic leg. And Ryan’s deceased mother was also a disabled woman. Being an illegitimate son in the Sterling family, with a disabled mother, made his position precarious among his many siblings. The most frequent insult he heard as a child was: “Your mother is disabled, and you’re a cripple too!” “Why should a person with physical deficiencies give birth to a child who competes with us?” His mother was not favored, and her child suffered greatly because of her. She eventually succumbed to depression, leaping from a 30-story building. Ryan once hated her for it: “If she was so fragile, she shouldn’t have impulsively given birth to me.” “Sometimes I feel that disabled people shouldn’t have children.” “They are destined to bear more burdens than ordinary people, and so are their children.” But now, he had fallen in love with a woman who was also disabled. A man who had clearly suffered such profound pain, yet still uncontrollably fell in love. The tumultuous story behind it, even imagining it, felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing me. When I walked over, Ryan was surprised: “Ann, what are you doing here?” My gaze met Evelyn’s, who was also sizing me up. “Just dropping by.” To my surprise, Evelyn spoke up confidently: “This must be Mr. Sterling’s fiancée, Ms. Grant, right?” “Hearing about you doesn’t do you justice; you truly are a rare beauty. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Evelyn Grant, the main model for this promotional video.” I realized, apart from that prosthetic limb. Evelyn was so sunny, confident, radiant, no different from an ordinary person. So, is it because of this, Ryan? Ryan avoided my gaze, looking somewhat agitated. Evelyn, wearing 4-inch heels, looked down at me. Her tone sounded wistful: “I truly envy Ms. Grant’s height. You look so delicate and charming.” “Unlike me, I’m a tall girl.” I looked at her, almost standing shoulder to shoulder with 6’2″ Ryan, and didn’t miss a hint of provocation in her eyes. I smiled, said nothing, and went straight to Ryan’s exclusive seat, crossing my arms. “You guys carry on with the shoot. I just came to watch.” But during the shoot, something unexpected happened. The male model, who only needed to embrace Evelyn in the final scene, suddenly lost control, forcing a kiss on her. He roughly caressed her, howling, “Why are you playing hard to get? I like you so much, why can’t you be with me!” “Ah!” In a few seconds, Evelyn’s clothing was torn. A flash in my peripheral vision, and Ryan had already rushed over. He yanked the man up, landing a fierce punch that immediately drew blood. Everyone hastily pulled Evelyn away, wrapping a trembling blanket around her. Ryan’s eyes were bloodshot, ignoring the man’s pleas, “Stop, stop! I’m sorry!” “Thump! Thump! Thump!” Dull thuds echoed through the set. The man exuded a fierce aura, like an enraged lion. I had only seen him like this once before, that year when I protected him and other members of the Sterling family severely injured me with rocks. His knuckles were turning red, the male model’s breathing grew weaker. But Ryan’s punches were more violent with each strike. I couldn’t stand it anymore and rushed forward to pull him back: “Ryan, that’s enough!” 3 “Get lost! He deserves to die!” Ryan didn’t see clearly and waved me away. By the time he realized, I had already fallen heavily to the ground. Both my palms were scraped raw. “Ann!” Ryan finally released the male model and hastily helped me up. I took a deep breath, a pang of sourness in my nose. The grit and dust of small stones pressing into my palms seemed to settle in my heart. He tried to help me to the side, but stopped abruptly when he heard Evelyn’s soft sobs. Ryan clenched his fist, as if having made a decision. He said, “Ann, I’ll accompany the model to the hospital for a check-up first. Then we’ll wait for the police to file a report.” His eyes kept darting towards Evelyn. As if he was about to rush over to her any second. Instantly, the stinging in my palms spread densely to my heart. Finally, I couldn’t help but ask him, “Ryan, I’m hurt too.” “There are so many other people below; do you really need to handle this personally?” “You even got into such a big fight over it. Do you know you represent the entire Sterling family!” No one knew better than I how difficult it had been for Ryan to get to this point. Over the years, his every move had been cautious. But look at him now: A bloody scratch on his face, damp strands of hair plastered to his temples from anger, the lingering redness in the corners of his eyes. This was no longer the composed Mr. Sterling I knew. I practically roared, my chest heaving violently. It drew frequent glances from the staff. My fiancé, the man I’d loved for six years, was now so concerned about another woman. How could I not be angry, how could I not hate! But Ryan just let out a heavy sigh, his voice weary: “Ann, you need to understand, this is sexual assault.” “Evelyn was harmed while working, and as her boss, I can’t leave.” “This isn’t a small matter.” He looked at me with a warning in his eyes. At this point, what more was there to say? My shoulders slumped. I watched him rush to that woman with a look of relief. He murmured soft words of concern. When my sister came to pick me up, that’s how lost and distraught she found me. As soon as the car drove away from the set, my phone’s notifications exploded. The hashtag #SterlingCEOBeatsUpAssaulterOnSet was prominently displayed. Clicking on it, all I saw were high-definition photos of Ryan protecting Evelyn, throwing punches, and finally, carefully wrapping his jacket around her. The comment section was boiling: [Mr. Sterling is so manly! So responsible!] [The boss personally steps in to protect an employee, overflowing with a sense of security!] [Am I the only one who thinks Mr. Sterling and the model sister are a perfect match?] [Both are tall and have great figures, they could be on a magazine cover with just a change of clothes.] [Business mogul × beautiful, strong, and tragic disabled model, I’m absolutely obsessed!] [Get married, get married on the spot!] My fingertips scrolled coldly over those glaring “perfect match” comments. An inconspicuous comment included a screenshot: [Link to @Evelyn’sSecretGarden for a surprise!] On a whim, I clicked it. It was a newly registered anonymous account, not much content. The latest post was yesterday: [He praised my bravery today.] The accompanying picture showed a bony, well-defined hand offering a hot drink. The watch on that wrist was clearly the birthday gift I had bought for Ryan last year, bidding $8.88 million for it at an auction. It even had our names engraved on it. Scrolling further back: [Rehab is painful, but thinking of him saying ‘imperfection is also beauty,’ I found strength again.] The accompanying picture showed a man applying prosthetic care oil to her, an intimate gesture. Next to it was a hand cream, the woody scent I had specifically bought for him. My heart felt like it was gripped by an icy hand, the suffocating sensation magnified infinitely. All that tenderness and consideration, it had silently seeped into another person. Late at night, a sound came from the entryway. Ryan paused when he saw me: “Ann? Why are the lights off?” I held up my phone, the screen light illuminating my pale face. “Ryan, explain yourself.” “This ‘Evelyn’s Secret Garden,’ whose story does it tell, yours and whose?” 4 Ryan’s face stiffened. He strode closer, his voice taut: “Ann, it’s not what you think.” I abruptly pulled my hand back, my smile strained. “Not what?” I pointed at the photos. “The watch, the cufflinks, the hand cream – they’re all things I gave you! You’re using my things and telling another woman ‘imperfection is also beauty’?” Bitterness welled up in my eyes, which I fiercely held back. He crouched down to my eye level, his gaze gentle and pleading: “Evelyn was startled. She’s disabled, she’s been through a lot of pain. I’m just showing concern and encouragement as her boss. Those words were to comfort her, not to make her feel inferior.” He tried to touch me, but I pulled away. “Concern to the point of personally giving her hot drinks, applying her prosthetic oil, praising her bravery?” My voice trembled. “That comment about me being tiny, were you comparing me to her then too? How disgusting!” “Ann!” Ryan’s voice abruptly rose, filled with anguish. “I never thought that! You are unique!” He took a deep breath, his tone humble, “Honey, I admit I felt more sympathy for her. She reminded me of my mother… but I swear, I never crossed the line! Don’t you know where my heart lies?” I bit my lip, silent, tears silently streaming down. He hated it when I cried, his expression stung. He finally got up and brought over a heavy wooden box. “I intended to give it to you at the wedding.” He knelt on one knee and opened it. Inside wasn’t jewelry, but many smooth, warm small wooden carvings: little rabbits, deer, pavilions, spires… “Do you remember your grandfather always used little wooden carvings to coax you,” he picked them up one by one, recounting their stories. “This panda is the one you said you wanted in Chengdu; this conch is the one you picked up in Sanya…” There were 52 in total, corresponding to places he traveled for business and places we visited, holding all my casually mentioned preferences. “You said when your grandfather passed, no one would coax you with woodwork anymore.” He looked up, his eyes reflecting my tears, and solemnly said: “Ann, your grandfather isn’t here anymore, but I will stay here, using the ways he once made you happy, to continue loving you.” This gesture fiercely struck my crumbling defenses. He actually remembered everything. I wavered. Could Evelyn really just be a projection of his mother to him? Finally, I nodded: “Ryan, I believe you, but you have to promise me. No more contact with Evelyn outside of work.” Ryan hugged me tightly: “Okay, I promise you, honey. I swear.” He kissed away my tears repeatedly, gently coaxing me. That night, I messaged my sister: [Sis, I’ve decided to trust Ryan one more time.] Ryan truly kept his promise, not only publicly clarifying: [Ms. Evelyn Grant and I do not have the relationship speculated. My wedding with my fiancée will be held in three days, and I hope for everyone’s blessings~] The accompanying picture was of him and me, fingers intertwined. The comments section was filled with blessings; those match-making, shipping comments were gone. He even completely delegated future promotional video work to his subordinates. From then on, Evelyn completely vanished from our lives. I thought everything would return to normal. Until the night before the wedding, when I needed to use the study computer. I accidentally saw a folder deep within the files named “EH.” Instinctively, I thought of Evelyn Grant. My lips even trembled. It was an encrypted file. I tried my birthday and his, both were wrong. Ryan was someone who didn’t like complicated passwords. Evelyn’s first tweet on her private account flashed through my mind: [June 28th, my first encounter with him.] 0628. “Dingdong” password correct. My heart plummeted. Inside, there was actually a video. My lover of six years, intimately entangled with Evelyn. The dialogue pierced my ears like venomous snakes: [Ryan, why are you recording this?] [Evelyn, don’t you like it? I’ll treasure this video; Ann doesn’t even get this kind of treatment.] [Only you, Evelyn. Only you. I love you.] I fiercely covered my mouth, a surge of tears welling up, which I forcefully suppressed. Ann, this is the last time you’ll cry for Ryan. That night, Ryan returned from his business dinner, smelling of wine, and collapsed onto me: “Ann, we’re getting married tomorrow. I’m so happy.” “I love you so much, Ann.” But I just stared at him, my fingers unhesitatingly sending that text message: [Sister, please add a little surprise to the wedding tomorrow.] The next day, the wedding venue was dreamlike and dazzling, making my eyes burn with happiness. Relatives greeted each other, their faces full of smiles. Ryan embraced me, emotionally, “Ann, I finally, finally married you. I’m so happy.” I secretly let out a cold laugh. What a pity, it was all just a false illusion. The wedding photos on the big screen suddenly stopped, then abruptly went black. Ryan looked puzzled: “What’s wrong with the screen? I’ll go ask.” However, the next second, the screen flashed with intimate scenes of Ryan and Evelyn intertwined, high-definition and uncensored. The woman’s seductive cries reached everyone’s ears, and that line: [Ryan, I love you so much.]

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“Ash, please stop… It’s already so raw.” Tears streamed down my face as I slumped before the man in military uniform. His voice was gentle, yet his hands didn’t falter. “Unless it’s perfectly clean, I won’t come near you.” My husband, General Ashworth Thorne, was… peculiar. Not only did our monthly intimacy require a formal request from me, but before he’d even consider touching me, I had to undergo a full three-stage disinfection, inside and out. But then, on our fifth wedding anniversary, I found a ripped silk stocking in his car. When I confronted him, he merely turned the steering wheel with an unnervingly calm expression. “I lent the car to Xander last week.” I didn’t say anything. Instead, I contacted his aide, Sergeant Brooks. That’s when I learned about a new junior comms officer recently assigned to Ashworth’s division. Over the phone, Brooks’s voice was hushed, almost a whisper. “Ms. Harper, I saw the General kiss her foot with my own eyes. They even shared a drink. And… I hear she might be pregnant.” “You’ve been good to me, I couldn’t stand to see you kept in the dark.” After hanging up, I calmly drafted the divorce papers. Ashworth, we’re done. … The next morning, I drove straight to the military headquarters. Sergeant Brooks’s face went white when he saw me. I glanced at Ashworth’s office – papers were strewn everywhere. Ashworth, the man who would instantly disinfect anything another person so much as brushed against, was currently pinning a woman to the floor, locked in a passionate kiss. Faint whimpers escaped the room. The woman inside met my gaze, her eyes devoid of any fear. I remembered that face. Three months ago, she’d just been assigned here, and had been utterly terrified, apologizing profusely when she’d accidentally knocked a file from my hands. “It must be hard on you.” I greeted Brooks, then pushed the door open without a knock. CRASH! The door slammed against the wall with a deafening thud. Startled, the two broke apart. I’d expected some flicker of panic, a clumsy excuse, or at least a hint of shame when caught in the act. But there was none. He merely frowned, his eyes filled with bewilderment and irritation. “Didn’t I tell you that you need to wear a sterile suit and disinfect three times before entering my office?” In his eyes, no emergency, no personal drama, could ever outweigh his almost pathological need for cleanliness. For five years, I had rigidly adhered to his rules. But now, it seemed utterly pointless. Because the young woman’s sweat was mingling with his, and he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Elara Vance’s uniform was disheveled, her face flushed crimson. “Ms. Harper, please don’t misunderstand. I just slipped while delivering some files, and General Thorne helped me steady myself.” Though she spoke to me, her eyes darted to Ashworth’s reaction. This girl, eight years my junior. Young, vibrant, and utterly oblivious to boundaries. I ignored her, tossing the divorce papers onto Ashworth’s face. The freshly printed pages still carried the faint scent of toner. Ashworth’s frown deepened. He must despise that smell. After all, in our home, every item had to undergo three layers of disinfection before it was allowed in his presence. Ashworth’s gaze flickered to the agreement on the floor, and he sighed with exasperation. “Listen, Harper, I told you, that item belonged to Xander. Can you please stop being so dramatic?” Xander was his academy classmate, one of his very few friends. But he’d forgotten, in his lie, that Xander had been deployed for field training four months ago, and Ashworth never lent his car, because he found it ‘dirty.’ But he wasn’t the only one with a cleanliness fixation. I found a disloyal marriage just as dirty. “Sign it. Divorce. It’s the best outcome for us.” I stood my ground, unyielding. He laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “What’s the point? You know my parents and the command won’t approve.” “In all our years of marriage, I haven’t touched another woman. This is just this one time.” “Can’t you just do what a General’s wife is supposed to do? Turn a blind eye?” According to him, I should be grateful that he only cheated with one person. He turned to Elara, his voice softening instantly. “You can go now. Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.” But Elara took a step forward, a patch of skin on her collarbone, marked with a kiss, peeking from under her loose hair. “Ms. Harper, please don’t be angry with General Thorne. It’s all my fault.” Of course it was her fault. Breaking up a military marriage? Did she expect me to comfort her? SLAP! Before Elara could finish, I slapped her hard across the face. “This isn’t your place to speak.” Elara was stunned, clutching her cheek, her eyes instantly welling with tears. Ashworth and Brooks, who was still by the door, froze. They were both accustomed to my calm and professional demeanor, even when dealing with the most challenging trauma patients on the battlefield. Regaining her senses, Elara crumpled, falling into Ashworth’s arms. She sobbed uncontrollably, letting her makeup smudge onto Ashworth’s pristine military shirt. Ashworth, though his brow was slightly furrowed, patiently patted her back, his eyes filled with tenderness. Seeing this, I remembered. Because Ashworth loathed the smell of cosmetics, I had gone five years barefaced. He’d even insisted I wipe off my lip gloss for our wedding photos. “Are you insane? Do you know what you’re doing?” I met his furious gaze, my smile cold. “Doing what a General’s wife should.” “The Thorne family does not allow mistresses to waltz in.” Ashworth didn’t even glance at the divorce papers before telling Brooks to shred them. If he wouldn’t agree to a divorce, then I’d force his hand. No one knew better than me how to shatter his defenses. I kicked my military boots haphazardly in the entryway, poured live fish from the market into the bathtub, and even splashed sweet and sour sauce onto the cream-colored rug. The entire house was instantly filled with a fishy, greasy odor. Before, Ashworth would have replaced every single item in the house. Then he’d have soaked himself in disinfectant for hours. I sat in the chaotic living room, smirking, waiting for him to finally reach his breaking point and throw the divorce papers in my face. But until one in the morning, there was no sound from the front door. My phone screen lit up. Elara had sent me a photo from Ashworth’s phone. Ashworth sat on a greasy, shiny plastic stool at a night market stall, sharing a bowl of spicy noodle soup with Elara. [He’s willing to break all his principles for me.] My stomach churned. That year, I came back from a mission, carrying the faint scent of a street food stall. He banished me to the guest room for three days, then burned all the clothes I’d worn, claiming the smell disgusted him. So I’d endured five years of bland meals with him, to the point where the sight of red chili oil made me nauseous. But now, it seemed he could sit in a night market littered with bamboo skewers and grime, all for Elara. I sat awake all night, until my tears ran dry, then dialed the division’s political affairs office. “This is Major Harper. I demand you immediately reassign Comms Officer Elara Vance.” The line went silent for a few seconds, then a hesitant voice spoke. “General Thorne specifically instructed that any reassignment of Officer Vance must be personally approved by him.” My fingers, clutching the phone, felt ice-cold. The next second, Ashworth’s call came in. “Harper, how much longer are you going to keep this up?” “What, as a field officer, I’m not allowed to reassign a comms officer with questionable conduct?” “Not her.” “Harper, you need to reflect on your own behavior. Stop being so unreasonable.” They were the ones cheating, they were the ones who made mistakes, yet he thought I was the one who needed to reflect. But I was never one to just take things lying down. The next morning, I took a stack of photos and plastered them all over the bulletin boards in the military office area. The photos showed them passionately kissing in the jeep, entangled in the office, and feeding each other at a street food stall. By the time Ashworth arrived at the headquarters, it was too late. “I always knew there was something going on between that comms officer and General Thorne. I’ve seen them out alone multiple times.” “So young, yet so manipulative. Too bad she chose the wrong path.” “General Thorne is usually so morally upright, how could he… doesn’t he have a severe phobia of germs? Doesn’t he find her dirty?” Ashworth violently ripped the photos from the wall, his eyes practically spitting fire as he looked at me. “Harper, what’s the difference between you and those hysterical, screaming women now?” So he knew this kind of thing was disgraceful. If he knew, why did he do it? Everyone’s gaze, like sniper sights, zeroed in on Elara’s face. She clutched her face, hiding behind Ashworth. “Ash, I can’t show my face anymore. Maybe I should just request a transfer. Let’s not contact each other again.” I thought Ashworth, for the sake of appearances, would tell her to handle it discreetly. But he didn’t. In front of everyone, he took off his military jacket and draped it over Elara’s shoulders. His gaze swept across the crowd, sharp and menacing. “Had enough looking?” “From today, Elara Vance is reassigned to the operations department as an administrative assistant, and her stipend is increased by two grades.” “She is my person. Anyone who discusses this privately will face disciplinary action.” No one dared to speak again. They had careers to protect, and General Thorne was not someone they could afford to offend. I lost. The outcome of this, just as Ashworth had predicted, was me becoming a hysterical, irrational woman. As I walked out of the military headquarters building, Elara, who had been sobbing, finally whispered to me. “Thank you. Otherwise, Ash might have kept me hidden for who knows how long.” I returned, utterly dejected, to the city’s finest military general hospital. The psycho-trauma intervention clinic there was the only place that truly belonged to me. “Dr. Harper, about that…” My assistant called out to me, while the nurses nearby whispered amongst themselves. Though I was mentally prepared, pushing open the door still made my breath catch. The sofa was slashed with a knife, bookshelves were toppled, and broken glass and scattered files covered the floor. Ashworth had once pulled strings to secure the best equipment and a dedicated floor for me to practice here. Now, because of my defiance, he had personally destroyed it. I slowly knelt, picking up the scattered patient files. A familiar photograph slid out from the bottom of a folder. In the picture, Ashworth wore a hospital gown, his eyes vacant and terrified, curled tightly in a corner. Back then, his severe germ phobia caused him to violently vomit and tremble if anyone even approached him. Even the military doctors said he might never be able to serve again. I treated him for two years, helping him regain basic social functions, allowing the already highly-regarded officer to return to the force, where he rapidly rose to the rank of General. Ashworth’s grandfather immediately decided on our marriage. But why? Why should I be his permanent sacrifice, clinging to this already rotten marriage? The hospital director called me into his office. “While the expert panel deems you fit to work, the hospital cannot directly confront General Thorne.” “You should take some time off and rest.” I understood his predicament. Without argument, I took my new prescription and went home. Opening the door, I saw a pair of women’s short boots, not mine, neatly placed in the shoe rack. I chuckled self-deprecatingly. At Ashworth’s insistence, no one else had ever set foot in this house besides me and the cleaning lady who came once a week. Including our child. The year we married, I unexpectedly became pregnant. But Ashworth absolutely forbade me from having the baby. “I cannot tolerate something covered in blood and bodily fluids in my house.” “Besides, I’ve always disliked children, you know that.” Seeing him short of breath and trembling, I tried desperately to calm him, but in the struggle, I fell down the stairs. I lost the baby, and I almost bled to death on the operating table. From then on, after our monthly conjugal duties, he would personally watch me swallow birth control pills. Elara heard the door open and walked over, proudly caressing her flat stomach. “Sister, I’m pregnant. You must have heard, right?” “I don’t want my child to be born a bastard.” She leaned close to me, her voice light. “So, Harper, we’re actually on the same side.” “I want to move up, you want a divorce. We both get what we want.” I scoffed. “You’re mistaken. My desire for a divorce doesn’t mean I’d ever endorse a mistress like you taking my place.” “A mistress is always a mistress.” Perhaps my words stung her. The smile vanished from her face, replaced by anger. “What are you, anyway? Can’t keep your man, so you take it out on me?” “You actually think Ash isn’t divorcing you because he can’t bear to let you go? He just hasn’t sorted things out with his family yet.” “Men only let the woman they truly love carry their child.” “Your child? He didn’t want it, even when you conceived.” Her smile was sickening. I froze. The Thorne family had kept that incident under wraps. It was a permanent scar on my heart, and a scandal the military family preferred not to mention. But Ashworth had so easily told this woman. In my daze, the pill bottle in my pocket fell out. Elara picked it up and read the label, her sneer deepening. “What’s this? An aphrodisiac? You still haven’t given up on Ash?” “To be a woman who needs drugs to keep a man… how pathetic.” I stared at her, hatred churning in my gut. The next second, I fiercely twisted open the cap and tried to force the pills into her mouth. “This is an abortifacient. Specially prepared for you.” “You want to have a baby? I’ll make sure you can’t.” She gasped, her face turning ashen, struggling desperately. Suddenly, the door behind us opened, and she broke free from my grasp. “Ash! Sister, she tried to make me take some medicine!” “Our baby… my stomach hurts so much!” Ashworth shoved me to the ground. “What did you do to her?” Elara sobbed hysterically, though I knew she hadn’t swallowed a single pill. Ashworth glanced at the pills on the floor, his face changing drastically. After five years of marriage, he recognized the medication by osmosis. Paroxetine, contraindicated for pregnant women. He quickly scooped her up and rushed into the bathroom, helping her to induce vomiting. Vomit covered the pristine sink. The man who once demanded I disinfect a doorknob if my fingertip so much as brushed it. Was now clearing the grime from her lips with his bare hands, utterly unconcerned. After confirming she was alright, he emerged, his eyes like they wanted to devour me whole. “Harper, are you really so incapable of tolerating a child?” I tolerate her child? Who ever tolerated my child? I stared blankly at the pills on the floor. How ironic, a psychologist, suffering from depression. But I was fully aware of what I was doing. I wasn’t losing control; I was just consumed by hatred. I sat powerlessly on the bed, but habitually remembered that I hadn’t changed into my loungewear. It seemed I had been so thoroughly trained by Ashworth that I constantly thought of his rules. But he wasn’t afraid anymore, was he? In a daze, Ashworth entered the room. Seeing my coat, he stopped two meters away from me. So he wasn’t unafraid. It was just that Elara was always the exception. “You’re sick? Since when?” Probably for a long time. Under the constant pressure of his monthly demands for reports, scrubbing, and disinfection. Under the crushing pain of losing our child. Under the despair of sensing his infidelity with nowhere to turn. I thought, since he was asking, he might show an ounce of concern. But instead, he just went on. “Your behavior just now makes you unsuitable to continue working in psychological intervention.” “Quit your job. You’ve always wanted a child, haven’t you? Elara’s child, I’ve decided.” “You just need to explain at the press conference that she’s your distant cousin, pregnant out of wedlock.” “And that you’re infertile, so you’ll adopt her child, registered under our name.” “We’ll live together, and you’ll raise the child together.” My fists clenched. I thought I must have misheard him. How could he utter such an outrageous request? “What if I refuse?” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Harper, can’t you be a little more considerate of the bigger picture? That’s my flesh and blood too.” I sneered. “If we divorce, she and the child can be legitimate.” Ashworth didn’t speak. After a long moment, he sighed. “If you don’t agree, I’ll have the hospital cut off your mother’s specialized nursing ward and her targeted medication. You decide.” “Don’t bother trying to contact my parents. They’re inspecting the border defenses, you won’t be able to reach them.” My mother’s late-stage kidney cancer relied entirely on the military general hospital’s cutting-edge treatments. He was cutting off my mother’s lifeline. I surrendered.

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Everyone says Dominic Sterling is a cold, aloof, and untouchable elite. But the truth is, he followed me around like a love-struck puppy for ten years. When I was pushed into a raging fire, he didn’t even hesitate. He threw away his billion-dollar empire and leaped into the flames to die with me. Reborn into a new life, I decided to stop being the toxic, manipulative woman who constantly toyed with his heart. I promised myself I would treat him well with every ounce of my being. Unfortunately, it seemed he was reborn too. “Seraphina Vance, are you planning to treat me like a trained dog again in this life? Hmm?” He backed me into a corner, shoving divorce papers into my hands. He told me that in this lifetime, he absolutely didn’t want me anymore. Absolutely not. 1 When I was eleven, someone deliberately broke five of my fingers. From that moment on, I swore to myself that I would climb to the absolute top of this world. No matter the cost, by any means necessary. Later, I did a lot of terrible things. Eventually, someone took their revenge by pushing me into a roaring fire. As the flames swallowed me whole, my mind went completely blank. Then, a figure in a white shirt charged into my vision and pulled me into a bone-crushing embrace. It was Dominic Sterling. My husband. The man who loved me so much he was willing to die for me. The man whose only flaw in an otherwise spotless life… was me. As we burned to ash together, a single thought crossed my mind. If there’s a next life, I swear to God, I will rip out my own heart and treat him better than anyone else in the world. 2 “These are the divorce papers.” “Sign them.” The flickering lights made my head spin. The man standing across from me lowered his eyes. Hiding the freezing coldness in their depths. “Dominic.” “Don’t do this.” I tried to grab his hand. His veins popped against his skin as he snatched his hand away violently. It had only been one hour and forty-one minutes since I was reborn. Suddenly, I felt a strange, inexplicable sense of relief. Dominic Sterling finally realized I was just a toxic woman who lied, manipulated him, and stole his money. He didn’t want me anymore. 3 I sat in a small cake shop, looking through the thin glass window. Staring at the two figures moving around in the academic building across the street. Dominic definitely didn’t know I was secretly watching him. Watching him explain a complex problem to that girl, who was practically rubbing against his sleeve. Right. In this life, Dominic finally knows who is truly kind and who is truly innocent. Yet, I still rested my chin in my hand and texted that girl. “Mia, why are you trying to seduce your brother-in-law?” 4 Mia Vance is my younger sister. To be precise, she is the biological heiress. I’m the fake one. When I was twelve, Mrs. Vance found me wandering the streets during a massive thunderstorm and took me in. Everyone thought it was fate. It wasn’t. To make sure Mrs. Vance would find a pitiful, broken child in the rain that day… I intentionally, violently broke my own leg. I wanted wealth. I wanted power. I wanted to stand above everyone else. I wanted to make sure I never had to swallow the agonizing humiliation of poverty ever again. Mia wasn’t found and brought back to the Vance family until she was sixteen. She was eternally kind, innocent, and pure. Everything I had to shatter my own bones to get, she received effortlessly, without doing a single thing. I hated her. I couldn’t understand why she never had to fall into the mud and taste true suffering. 5 I was just that kind of vicious, toxic woman. That’s why I suffered so miserably in my past life. Perhaps Mia really was exactly what people called her. She was “a girl like an angel.” And I had angered the heavens. In this life, the only person who had ever truly loved me had also turned his back on me. I curled up on the sofa, staring at the divorce papers on the coffee table. “Dominic, are you coming home tonight?” That text message had been sitting in my phone, unread and unanswered, for four entire hours. Dominic had a naturally cold personality. His friends always joked that he was a giant block of ice. But in my past life, I never felt that way. I just thought he was my loyal puppy. He would come running the second he caught my scent, constantly rubbing against me. The moment my hand was free, he had to hold it. Forget leaving messages on read—if I sent one text, he would reply with ten paragraphs of loving nagging. But now… A notification popped up. I thought it was him and rushed to check. It wasn’t. It was Mia. A text and a photo. “Sis, I have absolutely no intention of seducing my brother-in-law.” “I just want to help manage Dad’s company, so brother-in-law was kind enough to introduce me to some key contacts.” In the photo, the girl smiled brightly, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. They looked like the perfect couple. 6 I must have called Dominic over a dozen times. He didn’t answer a single one, and eventually, he just blocked my number. Honestly, Dominic was completely clueless when it came to social networking and corporate schmoozing. He was purely an academic. In my past life, to snatch a portion of my dad’s corporate shares away from Mia… I ordered him to schmooze and secure connections with top executives at pharmaceutical companies for me. He did it without a single complaint. I never stopped to consider that he was an elite university professor, a man of immense pride. I never thought about how much he had to swallow his pride to beg those corporate sharks for favors. I only remembered one specific incident from my past life. I had just secured a massive deal and gotten completely wasted. I called him to come pick me up. The private VIP room was filled with powerful, influential figures. I leaned back against the plush sofa, watching that crisp white figure walking steadily toward me. “Tsk tsk tsk…” I called him over exactly like I was calling a dog. An incredibly respected medical professor. A man who never bowed his head to anyone in his daily life. To be treated as a joke and played with by me in front of all those people… I must have felt incredibly powerful and smug in that moment. …Everyone in the room thought he was going to slam the door and storm out. But what did the Dominic of that time do? He walked right up to me, step by step. And then, with absolute, unbothered naturalness, he crouched down and took hold of my ankle. He gently slipped my discarded designer heel back onto my foot. He looked up, his strong brow bone softening like a gentle, ancient painting. “It’s getting cold out. Don’t catch a chill.” “Sera.” 7 Sera. He loved calling me that. But since we were reborn, he hadn’t called me that once. … I’m a very light sleeper, so I woke up the moment he walked through the front door. I lay perfectly still, curious to see what he would do when he thought I was asleep and defenseless. Nothing. He walked right past me. He didn’t even bother tossing a blanket over me. I sat up and threw the divorce papers directly at his back. The man paused. The lines of his broad back were distractingly attractive. “Don’t crumple them.” “If I have to print a new copy, you might not get as much in the settlement.” In the pale moonlight, I sat there watching him speak so calmly. A dark storm cloud seemed to hide in his pupils, mixing with an obscure, freezing indifference. “I’m not signing.” I stared at him fiercely. He seemed to expect this. He nodded. “Fine. We’ll go to court then.” “Dominic Sterling, you are a complete bastard.” I lunged at him, trying to grab him, but he overpowered me effortlessly. The moonlight curved softly into the room as he pinned me down on the sofa. His hand gripped my throat. It wasn’t gentle at all. I bit down hard on the webbing between his thumb and index finger, but he acted like he couldn’t feel the pain. Then, suddenly, he let go. A gentle touch brushed across my cheek. “So you know how to cry too.” He dropped that freezing, cryptic sentence. And left me alone in the living room. I pressed my hands hard against my eyes. As if doing that would stop the tears from spilling over. Don’t leave me behind. When I was ten years old, I made a silent vow. I swore I would never say those words out loud ever again. 8 I refused to sign the divorce papers. The very next day, Dominic pulled his investments from every single project I was involved in. The Sterling family owned a massive chunk of the medical and pharmaceutical industry, and he was a top-tier scholar in the field. I admit, in my past life, the only reason I married him was for the immense benefits and power he could provide. I knew he didn’t want me anymore. But when I found out he had transferred all those projects and collaborations directly to Mia… My heart still throbbed with a dull, sickening pain. But then I thought, this makes sense. In my past life, he saw the truth clearly. Mia was so pure and kind. She wasn’t like me. I was someone accustomed to using filthy, underhanded tactics to get what I wanted. However, him pulling his investments was basically sounding the alarm to the entire industry. Overnight, I was completely isolated and cut off from all my resources. … I prepared to try and butter Dominic up again. “Dominic, are you at the university right now?” “I made some lunch. Can I bring it over to you?” I didn’t dare hope he still had lingering feelings for me, but I desperately hoped he would remember our history and not completely destroy me. I stared at my silent phone screen, fully aware of how thick-skinned I was being. We had fought so viciously yesterday, but when my financial survival was on the line, I still had to swallow my pride and beg. I planned to cook him a nice meal and deliver it personally. Then I realized a massive problem. I had absolutely no idea what Dominic’s favorite foods were. Conversely, he probably knew exactly what I liked and hated, forward and backward. After all, in my past life, Professor Sterling’s absolute greatest obsession was feeding me all sorts of delicious food. I wasn’t actually a picky eater, but I loved throwing tantrums and acting spoiled around him. “Dominic, these noodles are way too hard.” “Dominic, who are these mushy noodles even for?” “Dominic, I don’t like spicy food.” “Dominic, since when do you cook everything so bland?” There was only one time I ever truly made him angry. His dark eyes locked onto me, his tone freezing and deadly serious. “Sera, do you honestly believe I’ll stand by your side forever, no matter what?” I looked down, admiring my manicure, and told him: “Then get out.” That was my answer. And he actually got out. It was below freezing outside, and he left without even putting on a coat. He must have been furious. Around dusk, I sent him a single text. “Dominic, I miss you.” Less than fifteen minutes later, the front door burst open. He pulled me into a fierce, desperate embrace, bringing the sharp, biting cold of the outdoors with him. He pressed his straight nose against the crook of my neck, and I heard him say: “Yes. I will stand by your side forever.” …See? For the old me, training Professor Sterling was literally easier than training a dog. … After slicing my finger open for the third time and staring at the bubbling, unidentifiable biohazard in the pot, I finally snapped out of my memories. I realized I was absolutely not a culinary genius. I immediately ordered takeout from The Sterling Pavilion, a high-end restaurant. And transferred the food into my own insulated lunchbox. Whatever… he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between home-cooked food and restaurant food anyway. …Probably.

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The company scrapped the annual gala this year. Instead, they cut checks for each department to host their own private dinners. I was stuck in a gridlock on the BQE, running late, and arrived just in time to hear the new intern, Madison, dragging my name through the mud inside the private dining room. “Gary has to be, what, in his mid-thirties? He’s always hovering around my desk. He actually thinks he has a shot with me? As if. I’m not playing nice with him anymore.” “In a few minutes, I’m ordering ten of the most expensive things on the menu. If we can’t finish it, everyone just take a doggy bag home. I’m making Gary foot the bill.” The room erupted in cheers. People were shouting about how she was “Gen Z goals,” finally “taxing the corporate patriarchy.” I stood there, my hand hovering over the cold brass doorknob. I waited in the hallway, listening until she had racked up a bill close to twelve thousand dollars. Then, I let go. I walked away, pulled out my phone, and dropped two messages into the department Slack: [Something came up at home. I won’t be making it to dinner.] [The company’s $800 stipend for the meal has been transferred to the group fund. Enjoy yourselves.] 1. I sat in the back of the Uber, watching the notifications blow up my screen. The “Marketing Squad” group chat was in a state of absolute meltdown. Three minutes ago, I’d sent those two sentences, Venmoed the stipend into the shared account, and immediately left the group. But I’d forgotten I was still in the main “General” channel—the one without the big bosses. Messages were flying in at a rate of twenty per second. Madison was tagging me relentlessly. [@Gary, what the hell is this? You were literally at the door and then you just ghosted?] [Are you seriously this pathetic? You’re the Department Manager. This dinner was supposed to be on you!] [Eight hundred dollars? What is this, a Happy Meal? We’re adults!] [Get back here and pay the tab right now. Don’t make me lose the last bit of respect I had for you!] Then came the photos. Platters of Wagyu beef. Bottles of Opus One, three of them already uncorked. A literal mountain of high-end seafood towers. I could still hear her voice echoing in my head from when I was standing outside that door. She hadn’t been whispering; she’d been performing. “This, this, and that. I want the most expensive ones. Ten orders of each!” “Server, open the wine now. Let it breathe.” “What are you guys worried about? Someone else is picking up the tab today. Our ‘dear’ manager Gary has plenty of cash. He’s been thirsting after me for weeks—consider this the entry fee.” The room had been buzzing with excitement. Someone—maybe Bob—had tried to intervene: “Madison, is this too much? Gary’s not even here yet.” Madison’s voice had turned sharp, mocking. “If we can’t finish it, I’ll take it home to feed my dog for all I care. It’s time to teach these creepy, middle-aged bosses a lesson. He needs to know I’m not someone he can just toy with.” “Exactly! Get him, Madison! Gen Z is built different!” “Gary’s always been a bit of a tightwad anyway. Let him bleed a little.” I let go of the handle. I had intended to go in. I was going to apologize for being late, maybe buy a round of drinks on my personal card to smooth things over. But I couldn’t stomach that meal. Not now. The phone vibrated non-stop. Bob, a senior analyst, DM’d me: Gary, you seriously left? The food is already on the table. The bill is pushing fifteen grand. Who’s paying if you aren’t here? I typed back: Whoever ordered it pays. The company budget was $800. I sent every cent of it. Bob: Stop playing around. Madison’s just a kid, she doesn’t know how things work. Don’t take it out on the whole team. Just come back. The server is standing here with the check and everyone is freaking out. Me: I’m not. Bob: You’re leaving us all hanging! The wine is open. We can’t send it back! Me: Madison said she wanted to ‘shake up the workplace.’ I’m giving her the opportunity. I switched my phone to silent and shoved it into my pocket. The driver caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “Where to, man?” “Home,” I said. As the car merged into the neon-lit flow of the city, I closed my eyes. All I could hear was Madison’s smug, entitled tone. I’m thirty-two. It took me eight years of grinding, of staying late, of eating desk salads, to claw my way up to Department Manager. Madison started as an intern last month. She’s pretty enough, sure, but her work is a disaster. She messes up basic formatting. She loses data sets. Because she’s new, I tried to mentor her. I pulled her into my office to go over her mistakes. I took her along to client meetings so she could see how the business actually moves. And in her head, that translated to me “thirsting” over her. I was just another “creepy boss” she could use to fund her lifestyle for a night. Fifteen thousand dollars. I have savings, but I’m not a goddamn ATM. The screen lit up again. An incoming FaceTime from Madison. I declined. She called again. I blocked the number. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a call from Greg, the Assistant Manager. Greg has been gunning for my job since the day I got promoted. We maintain a thin veil of professional courtesy, but the knives are always out. I answered. Greg’s voice was thick with a poorly concealed smirk. “Hey, Gary. This is a bad look, man. Everyone’s waiting. You just walked away and left the whole room stranded?” 2. “I had an emergency.” “What’s more urgent than a team-building dinner? Madison’s practically in tears. She’s saying you’re bullying the new hires.” “I provided the $800 stipend.” “Eight hundred? The bill is ten times that! Who pays the rest? We all split it? That’s everyone’s rent for the month! You’re ruining their holidays, Gary.” “Whoever ordered the food pays for it.” “Gary, you’re the lead. You have to take responsibility. Madison is young, she doesn’t know the etiquette. You’re the veteran here—don’t you know how this works?” “I know the rules perfectly. The company policy for this dinner was eight hundred dollars. Anything beyond that is the responsibility of the person who authorized it.” “You’re really not coming?” “No.” “Fine. Your call, Gary. But this isn’t over.” Greg hung up. I stared out the window at the passing skyscrapers. In the past, I was always the one to “take responsibility.” I took the blame for missed deadlines, I cleaned up everyone’s messes, I played the martyr for the sake of “team harmony.” I’d paved the way for them to believe I was an easy target. When I got home, I took a long, hot shower and went straight to bed. For the first time in years, I slept like a baby. The next morning, I walked into the office at 9:00 AM sharp. The moment I stepped onto the floor, the atmosphere curdled. People were staring at me—eyes full of disdain, anger, and that particular brand of corporate schadenfreude that comes when people think a superior is about to fall. Madison was sitting at her desk. Her eyes were puffy and red—she’d clearly put effort into looking like she’d spent the night crying. The second she saw me, she slammed her folder onto her desk and stood up. “Gary! Are you even a man?” The office went silent. Every head turned. I walked to my cubicle, set down my briefcase, and looked at her. “It’s nine in the morning, Madison. Lower your voice.” She stormed over to me, pointing a finger in my face. “Don’t you dare play dumb! Last night was a setup, wasn’t it? You said you were hosting, and then you bailed! You forced every single one of us to cough up over five hundred dollars just so we wouldn’t get arrested!” The other colleagues started closing in. Bob’s face was dark. “Gary, that was cold. We’re all just trying to get by. Most of these kids barely make enough for groceries. Losing half a paycheck on one dinner? That’s messed up.” Another colleague, Sarah, let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “I mean, our Manager makes six figures. He clearly doesn’t care about us. Some of us actually have families to feed, Gary.” Greg leaned against a partition, arms crossed, wearing a jagged little smile. “Last night, while everyone was scraping their bank accounts to pay that bill, they were saying some pretty colorful things about you, Gary. Madison had to put the rest on a credit card she can’t afford. As a leader, this is pretty heartbreaking to watch.” I looked at their angry, self-righteous faces. None of them looked like this when they were shoveling Wagyu into their mouths. They weren’t complaining when they were cheering Madison on for “getting” the boss. They were happy to be part of the heist as long as they thought I was the one being robbed. I looked at Madison. “When did I ever say I was personally footing the bill?” Madison’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to! It’s a team dinner. It’s common sense that the manager pays! And when I was ordering, you didn’t say no!” “I was stuck in traffic.” “That’s a lie! You just wanted to see me humiliated! This is because I rejected you, isn’t it?” Her voice climbed an octave, drawing in the few people who were still trying to pretend they were working. “Everyone, look at him! Look at this pathetic, small-minded man. Is this who we want leading us?” “Rejected me?” I asked, my voice flat. “When exactly did I ever pursue you?” “Oh, please! Always calling me into your office, insisting I go on ‘client visits’ with you… we all know what you were after. I didn’t give in, so you decided to trap me with a bill I couldn’t pay!” She started to sob—a well-practiced, cinematic tremble of the shoulders. She was playing the victim perfectly. 3. The whispers grew louder. “Disgusting. Using his position to harass an intern.” “I knew he was a creep. Look at how he dresses. Total ‘nice guy’ energy.” “He should be fired. Immediately.” I had taken her to client meetings because she was a junior and needed to learn the ropes. I called her into my office because her weekly reports were a nonsensical mess of typos and bad data. I’d spent hours of my own time trying to fix her career. And this was the narrative. I was a predator. “Madison, be very careful with your words,” I said coldly. “Last night, you ordered the food. You ordered ten of everything. You told the table you were going to ‘teach me a lesson’ and told everyone to pack up the leftovers. Now that the bill has come due, you’re trying to drown me in your own mess?” “I was trying to lighten the mood!” Madison shrieked. “And I thought you were coming! If you couldn’t afford it, you should have said so! Don’t act like a big shot if you’re actually broke!” “The company budget was $800. I transferred it to you in full.” “Eight hundred doesn’t even cover the wine!” Madison reached into her designer bag and whipped out a stack of receipts, slapping them onto my desk. “Fourteen thousand, eight hundred dollars! Subtract your measly eight hundred, and you owe us fourteen grand! You’re paying us back. Every cent.” I didn’t even glance at the paper. “Whoever ate the food pays for the food.” “You—!” Madison was shaking with rage. “You’re a monster! You’re not even human!” “Gary.” Greg walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. His voice was low, “caring.” “Don’t blow this up more than it already is. We all work together. This money is a lot, but you can afford it. Just pay the bill, apologize, and let’s move on. If this gets to HR or the CEO, it’s going to get ugly for you.” He was threatening me. Using my career as a hostage. A year ago, I might have folded. For the sake of “the team,” for the sake of my reputation, I would have swallowed the poison and paid. But looking at Greg’s fake smile, Madison’s blatant greed, and the mob-like entitlement of my coworkers, I realized something. I didn’t want this job anymore. Not if this was the price. “Greg, if you’re so worried about the ‘team,’ why don’t you pay it?” I looked him dead in the eye. Greg’s smile faltered. “That’s not the point, Gary. You’re the one who caused this mess.” “I caused it?” I laughed. “Madison ordered the food. Madison opened the wine. You all drank it. I didn’t eat a single bite. I didn’t drink a drop. I didn’t even set foot in the building. How is this my mess?” “Because you’re the Manager!” Madison screamed. “The Manager is responsible!” “The Manager is responsible for the work, not for subsidizing your delusions of grandeur.” I swept the receipts off my desk and onto the floor. “I’m not paying a single dime.” “Ah!” Madison let out a piercing scream, as if I’d struck her. “Gary! You’re going to regret this! I’m going to report you! I’m going to make sure everyone in this city knows exactly what kind of person you are!” She turned and sprinted toward the CEO’s office. Greg looked at me and shook his head. “You’re done, Gary. Madison has connections. And in this climate? An older male manager ‘trapping’ a female intern? You’re walking into a buzzsaw.”

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I was born with a glitch in my DNA. The moment the diagnosis came in, my father vanished, taking what little pride he had left and leaving us with a mountain of medical bills that swallowed my mother’s savings in months. To keep me alive, my mother moved us into the homes of strangers—men she didn’t love but who had the means to keep my heart beating. David was the third “uncle.” The arrangement was simple, though never spoken aloud: David wanted a legacy, and my mother needed a miracle. Within a year, her belly was swollen with my brother. Ten months later, she handed David a healthy baby boy. In exchange, he settled the initial $80,000 for my specialty treatments. When she was ready to pack our bags and move on, David stopped her. He told her that if she stayed, he would treat me like his own. He slid a credit card across the kitchen table, promising to cover every experimental trial, every vial of the expensive stuff. My mother looked at me—pale, fragile, and tethered to a nebulous future—and she nodded. They had a small ceremony a few weeks later. That night, she peeled off the modest lace dress she’d bought for the courthouse and put back on her faded, oversized flannel shirt. She pulled me into her lap, her voice a soothing hum. “Don’t be scared, Daisy,” she whispered, rocking me. “I’d do anything to keep you here. You’re my heart. You’ll always be the one I love most.” To prove it, she kept my brother, Toby, at a distance. She rarely held him when I was in the room; she rarely smiled at him if she thought I was watching. She was trying to protect me from the one thing she couldn’t fix: the feeling of being replaced. But everything shattered when Toby turned three. He found my pills on the nightstand, thinking they were those bright, sour candies he saw on TV. He swallowed a handful before my mother found him. I remember the terror in her eyes as she shoved her fingers down his throat, trying to make him gag, before she finally collapsed into a scream that tore through the house. “You monster!” she shrieked at me, her face contorted in a way I’d never seen. “I’ve given up everything for you! Isn’t it enough? Why do you have to destroy your brother too?” “I’m so tired, Daisy. I’ve been tired for years. Why… why won’t you just die already?!” David rushed in, scooped up a sobbing Toby and my shaking mother, and ran for the car. I stood by the window, watching the taillights fade into the rainy October night. I turned back to the room. I knelt on the floor and picked up the stray pills, one by one. Each one represented a day of her life she’d sold for me. Mom, I thought, swallowing the bitter tablets without water. I’m done being the weight around your neck. 1 My insides felt like they were being eaten by wildfire. I couldn’t stop the low, ragged moans escaping my throat. But even through the haze of pain, my mind drifted back to her. “At least Mom bought the expensive ones,” I whispered to the empty room. I remembered the day at the clinic. The doctor offered two options: the generic brand, which was harsh and unpredictable, or the premium version—devastatingly expensive, but with fewer side effects. My mother hadn’t even blinked. She chose the premium. She’d literally sold her body’s future to David to ensure I suffered just a little bit less. “Mom doesn’t mind,” she used to tell me, brushing the hair from my damp forehead. “I just want my girl to have a little peace.” The burning shifted into a sharp, stabbing agony. My breath came in short, jagged hitches, and tears leaked onto my pillow. I wanted her. I wanted her to hold my hand and tell me about the stars. But the thought died as soon as it formed. She was at the hospital with Toby. She was exhausted. I couldn’t be her emergency anymore. I tried to mimic her touch, patting my own back with a trembling hand, pretending it was her soothing me to sleep. Then, a cold realization hit. If she came home and found me like this, she’d scream. She’d call 911. She’d spend more money she didn’t have to “save” me again. She’d cry until her eyes turned red. I didn’t want her to be tired. I didn’t want her to pay. I didn’t want to be the reason she cried ever again. With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed myself off the bed. I crawled, inch by agonizing inch, out the door and up the narrow stairs to the attic. I found a corner behind a stack of old holiday decorations and tucked myself away. As the darkness started to bleed into my vision, my last thought was a question: This time, will the medicine finally defeat the monster inside me? I don’t know how much time passed, but I woke up. I was back in my bedroom. Or rather, I was hovering in it. The room looked the same. My handmade stuffed bunny was sitting on the nightstand. Mom had been knitting it for weeks. If it weren’t for Toby constantly interrupting her, demanding she make him a superhero instead, she would have finished it yesterday. She’d snapped at him for it, too. “It doesn’t matter how much you cry, Toby! I’m finishing the bunny for your sister first!” she’d yelled. “And shut up! Daisy just took her meds. If you wake her, God help me!” Toby had wailed louder, and she’d dragged him out of the house. Now, I heard muffled voices coming from the hallway. “Toby is your flesh and blood too, Sarah,” David was saying, his voice thick with frustration. “Why are you so cold to him? You’re obsessed with her, but look at the reality. The doctors said she won’t even make it through the year.” “Keep your voice down!” Mom hissed. “What if she hears you? I won’t have her last months filled with your pessimism.” A moment later, the door creaked open. Mom stepped in. She looked at the bed—at the shape under the covers—and let out a long, shuddering breath. She walked over and pressed a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl lying there. I felt a pang of ghostly guilt. I’d always been so proud of how well I could “fake sleep” so she wouldn’t have to explain her tears to me. It’s okay, Mom, I thought, reaching out to touch the bunny. If you’re happy, I’m happy. But my hand passed right through the plush fabric. It was like trying to touch a shadow. The sound of keys jingling at the front door pulled my attention away. They were home. 2 Mom was carrying a white box from the local bakery—the one with the expensive strawberry shortcake. I did a little spin in the air, a giggle bubbling in my chest. “Mom! How did you know I had a craving for strawberries today? You really are the best.” Then I heard Toby’s weak, small voice. “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Mom knelt beside him, stroking his hair with a tenderness I rarely saw her show him. “I know, baby. This cake is just for you. Come here, let Mommy feed you.” She took him from David’s arms and sat him at the kitchen island, spooning bits of cream and cake into his mouth. “It’s sweet, Mommy. I like it.” Mom smiled, a genuine, glowing look that reached her eyes. “Then Mommy will buy it for you every single day.” Toby’s eyes darted around, a bit of toddler mischief returning. “Mean sister made Toby’s tummy hurt. She doesn’t get any cake.” I hovered near them, crossing my arms and making a face at him. “Nice try, Toby. Strawberries are my favorite. She bought that for me.” But then Mom leaned down and kissed Toby’s forehead. “You’re right, baby. Only for Toby. Not for the mean sister.” I froze. Was she still angry about the pills? I’d tried so hard to keep them safe. I always tightened the child-proof caps until my fingers were raw. “Mom, look!” I cried out, holding up my hands. “I tried! I really tried!” But my hands were translucent. No marks, no scars. And she couldn’t hear a word I said. Because Daisy was dead. David broke the silence. “Sarah, that cake is huge. Toby can’t finish it. I’ll go wake Daisy so she can have some too.” He took a step toward my room, but Mom’s voice stopped him cold. “She doesn’t deserve a bite.” The venom in her tone made me flinch. “If I hadn’t been fast enough to clear Toby’s throat, we’d be at a funeral right now. I’m done with her tantrums.” I threw myself into her lap, trying to wrap my arms around her. Mom, I’m right here. I’m right in front of you. You said no matter what I did, if I gave you a hug, you’d forgive me. Please. David sighed, walking to my door and knocking softly. “Daisy? You awake, honey? Toby’s okay now. Just come out and apologize, and we can move past this, okay?” Silence. Toby started fussing again. “She won’t come out. She’s being bad.” Mom’s brow furrowed. “She’s hiding because she knows she’s wrong. Does she really expect me to go in there and coddle her? I’ve spent every waking hour of the last eight years catering to her. Not once has she shown an ounce of gratitude. Honestly, David… sometimes I think about how much easier our lives would be if I’d just stopped the treatments years ago.” She looked at David, her expression terrifyingly calm. “We could have been a normal family. We could have been happy.” I clung to her, my soul shaking. “Mom, you’re just tired. You don’t mean that. Tell me you don’t mean that.” I looked for a tear, a crack in her mask. There was nothing. She looked relieved, as if a weight had already been lifted. But you told me I was your happiness, I whispered. You told me I was the only thing that made it all worth it. Was it all a lie? David rubbed her shoulders. “Go put Toby to bed. Daisy’s meds are due in ten minutes. I’ll go in and talk to her. Let’s just try to make her last few months… peaceful.” Mom didn’t answer. She just picked up Toby, gave him a quick bath, and disappeared into his room. David filled a glass of water and walked toward my door. 3 He stood outside the door for a moment, listening. He knocked again. “Daisy? Time for your pills. I’ve got your water.” Nothing. “Come on, kiddo. The doctor said you can’t miss a dose if you want to stay healthy. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” I stood next to him, trying to tug on his sleeve. “David, I’m not in there. I can’t open the door. Just go sit down.” His face darkened. “You’re being stubborn, Daisy. Your mother has sacrificed everything for you. The least you can do is show a little maturity.” I knew. I knew better than anyone. She’d married a man she didn’t like because her family needed the dowry. When I was born with the “glitch,” she was the only one who fought for me. My biological father called her a fool; he’d even tried to smother me in my crib one night to “end the misery.” Mom had chased him out of the house with a kitchen knife, her eyes bloodshot and wild. She’d worked three jobs. She’d spent every penny. And then, she’d found David. She’d traded the possibility of a “normal” child for the survival of a “broken” one. She’d had Toby just to pay for my vials. She’d nearly died on the delivery table twice, but she always went back to the hospital the next day to buy my medicine. One night, I’d told her, “Mom, it’s okay if we don’t buy the pills this month.” She hadn’t hesitated. “You have to take them, Daisy. You’re the only reason I have to wake up in the morning.” Back then, I didn’t fully understand. I just nodded and promised to be good. But now, listening to her sing a lullaby to Toby in the other room, I realized she’d found a new reason to wake up. The pain in my chest—my phantom chest—was worse than the medicine. David knocked a third time. His patience snapped. He reached for the handle. “Daisy, if you won’t talk, I’m coming in.” Suddenly, Mom marched out of Toby’s room, her face a mask of fury. She pushed past David and shoved the door open. “This is exactly what happens when you coddle her!” she yelled. “Daisy Miller, I am counting to three. If you aren’t sitting up and ready for these meds, I swear to God, I won’t even bother showing up to your funeral!” My heart skipped a beat. If she saw the empty bed, she’d know. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight. In the weak light from the hallway, the life-sized bunny Mom had made—the one sitting propped up against the pillows—looked just like a small girl curled under the blankets. Mom saw the silhouette and her rage boiled over. “One!” “Two!” “Three!” The silhouette didn’t move. Mom let out a harsh, jagged laugh. She snatched the water glass from David’s hand and stormed toward the bed. 4 A loud thump echoed from the hallway, followed by Toby’s piercing scream. Mom spun on her heel, the water slopping over the edge of the glass as she ran back to Toby’s room. He’d tumbled out of bed. She scooped him up, hovering over him with frantic apologies. “Oh, Toby, Mommy’s so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you…” As he calmed down, he sniffled, clutching her neck. “Mommy stay with Toby tonight? No sister?” Mom sighed, a heavy, final sound. “She’s old enough to sleep on her own. It’s time she learned.” I felt the air go cold around me. Every night, after Toby fell asleep, Mom would come to my room. She’d say that hearing my steady breathing was the only thing that made her feel safe. I had been greedy enough to think that her favoritism would last until my very last breath. I started to cry, but then, a strange smile touched my lips. Someone was finally there to love her back. Toby would be the one to make her laugh now. Toby, I thought, I’m going now. You have to love her twice as much for me. Toby cheered up at her promise. Mom bopped his nose playfully. “Tomorrow is Saturday. Daddy and I are taking you to the carnival.” She raised her voice, clearly intending for “me” to hear it in the other room. “Sister is being a brat, so she doesn’t get to go.” David looked surprised. “Really? You’re leaving her behind?” Mom waited a beat, her jaw set. “Yes. I won’t let her hold Toby’s childhood hostage anymore.” Because of my health, we never went anywhere. The furthest I’d been was the hospital. Toby was three and had never even seen a carousel. David nodded. “You’re right. It’s heartbreaking, really. Toby falls and cries, and she doesn’t even peek her head out to check on him. She’s turned into a cold little thing.” Mom’s eyes hardened. “She’s just like her father. Ungrateful. Let’s sleep. We have to be at the gates early or the lines will be blocks long.” The lights went out. I curled up on the floor by the side of her bed, shivering even though I had no body to feel the cold. The next morning, Mom glanced at my door. The wind had blown it shut during the night. “We’re going to be out late,” David said, jingling the car keys. “Should we bring her? She’s light. I can carry her if she gets tired.” Mom shook her head. “No. Today is for Toby. If she’s there, we’ll just be walking on eggshells all day.” They left. But Mom, I whispered to the empty house, I’ve never been to a carnival either. Since I was a ghost, I figured it didn’t matter. I followed them. Toby was electric with joy. He saw the brightly colored horses of the grand carousel and bolted toward them. Mom chased after him, laughing. “Slow down, Toby! You’ll trip!” I watched from the sidelines as they rode the horses. Mom was glowing. It was a smile I hadn’t seen in years—one without the shadow of a hospital waiting room behind it. She looked beautiful. Without me, the wrinkles around her eyes would fade. The dark circles would disappear. She would finally be the woman she was meant to be. After the ride, David bought two huge strawberry ice cream cones. Mom started humming a song—my favorite song, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Toby licked his ice cream. “Mommy, let’s come here every day. Just us. No mean sister.” Mom’s face clouded over for a second. “Toby, don’t say that. Your sister is very sick. We have to take care of her.” Toby pouted, but Mom didn’t smile this time. He realized he’d crossed a line. “Sorry, Mommy. Nice sister.” David, who had been checking his phone, suddenly frowned. “That’s weird. The security app hasn’t sent a single notification from Daisy’s room. The door hasn’t opened once. Did she miss her morning meds too?” The color drained from Mom’s face. She stood up so fast her chair nearly tipped over. “David, we have to go. Now. If she hasn’t taken her pills, she’s in danger.” Ignoring Toby’s protests, they sprinted for the car. When they got home, Mom burst through the front door and slammed open my bedroom. “Daisy Miller! If you’re playing games with your medicine, I swear—” But the room was empty. The bed was perfectly made, the bunny sitting exactly where she’d left it. I wasn’t in the bathroom. I wasn’t in the kitchen. Then, a thunderous pounding came at the front door. “Open up! It’s the police! We found a kid in the attic of the building next door… is she yours?”

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