Category: English

Julian came to the orphanage to pick a sister. All the girls crowded around, praying they would be the lucky one chosen. I was the only one hiding in a closet, fast asleep. I thought that by doing this, I could escape the miserable fate of my past life—becoming the Sterling family’s adopted daughter, and eventually, Julian’s wife. I thought I could finally live a free, happy life this time around. But when I woke up, Julian was standing right in front of the closet doors. He smiled and asked, “Luna, come home with me. Okay?” 01 When Julian’s face appeared in front of me, I honestly thought I was still stuck in my nightmare. It wasn’t until the orphanage director called my name sternly, “Luna, what are you doing sleeping in here?” I snapped back to reality and realized this wasn’t a dream. Seeing me frozen in shock, the director reached in and pulled me out of the closet. She smoothed my collar and pushed me toward Mr. and Mrs. Sterling. “You fell asleep, and Young Master Julian insisted we shouldn’t wake you.” “We’ve all been waiting for you.” Julian, the young master in question, was standing in front of his parents. He looked at me with a faint smile playing on his lips. The Julian standing before me right now was very different from the cold, distant Julian etched into my memory. He initiated the greeting: “Hello, Luna.” I didn’t know why, but hearing my name coming from his mouth felt incredibly bizarre. I frowned and quickly averted my gaze. My mind was racing. They had so many other girls to choose from. Why did they insist on waiting for me? “Waiting for me? For what?” The director bent down to explain: “They want to adopt you. Luna is finally going to have a home, with a mom, a dad, and a big brother.” The normally strict, unsmiling director was actually smiling at me. I guess she was genuinely happy for me. For an orphan, being adopted is the ultimate stroke of luck. But the director didn’t know: I had been reborn. I knew Julian was coming to the orphanage today to pick a sister, which is exactly why I deliberately hid in the closet. “Luna, come home with us, okay?” Mrs. Sterling took my hand, her voice gentle: “Julian has always wanted a little sister. From now on, you’ll be his sister.” This scene was playing out exactly like my past life. Memories from that life flashed through my mind like a slideshow. I immediately yanked my hand back and looked up at the director. “Director, I don’t want them to adopt me.” My words shocked everyone in the room. The most intense reaction came from Julian. His brows furrowed as he asked, “Why not?” “Because I don’t want to be your sister.” Even though I flatly rejected him, Julian didn’t show a single trace of anger. Instead, his tone grew even softer, laced with an almost imperceptible indulgence. “Then you don’t have to be my sister. Just come back to the Sterling estate with me and live with us. How about that?” The director discreetly tugged on my sleeve, but she couldn’t stop me from rejecting Julian a second time. “No.” I thought Julian would just give up. But when the director tentatively asked the Sterlings if they wanted to choose a different girl, Julian suddenly spoke up, his voice loud and clear: “Mom, I only want her.” He said, “She is the only one who looks exactly like my sister.” 02 In my past life, the reason Julian chose me out of all the girls was also because I looked a bit like his deceased younger sister. Back then, when I found out I was chosen, I thought the heavens were finally blessing me. I was taken to the Sterling estate and renamed Luna Sterling. I was given my very own room in their massive, luxurious mansion. Even though I knew that room didn’t truly belong to me, I was still incredibly content. Mrs. Sterling told me, “Children from orphanages naturally have a certain… lower-class demeanor. The way they speak and act simply isn’t presentable.” So, I worked tirelessly to erase all my old habits, becoming less and less like my true self. Mrs. Sterling was incredibly strict with me. I was forced to practice the piano for over twelve hours every single day. Even when my instructor explicitly told her I had absolutely no natural talent for it, Mrs. Sterling still stood over me, forcing me to practice daily. But some things just can’t be forced. “I’m sorry, Mom. I still can’t play it right.” Every time I apologized, Mrs. Sterling would look at me with even more affection and comfort me. “It’s okay. As long as my Luna keeps trying, you’ll definitely be able to play it perfectly one day.” I only found out later that playing the piano was her deceased daughter’s favorite hobby. Mrs. Sterling wasn’t nurturing me; she was just using me to find the shadow of someone else. But I didn’t care about any of that. A dying fish doesn’t care if the water it’s given is clean; it just wants to survive. Water to a fish was like love to me. As long as I had it, I was happy. I practiced the piano even harder. I tried even harder to please Mrs. Sterling. We began to look more and more like a real mother and daughter. Until the night of Julian’s engagement party. He was drugged, and I just happened to accidentally walk into his room. When Mr. Sterling saw Julian and me, he was so furious he passed out. Mrs. Sterling slapped me hard across the face. “I never should have brought you into this family.” Julian stared at me in silence. I couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes. But I assumed he was regretting it too. Regretting that he had ever chosen me to be his sister. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t drug my brother.” I tried desperately to defend myself, but no one believed me. So much so that later, when Julian cheated on me and betrayed our marriage countless times, he would always say: “You were willing to use drugs just to force your own brother to marry you. Everything happening now is just your karma.” Julian hated me. That’s why, after we got married, he loved humiliating me in public. Many people in our social circle took bets on how long our marriage would last. “A year, tops. Once she has the kid, Julian will kick her to the curb.” Unfortunately, the outcome shocked everyone. Julian and I were entangled in a toxic, agonizing marriage for nineteen years. Even after I died, the words Wife of Julian Sterling were carved into my tombstone. “Luna, tell me the truth. Why don’t you want to be adopted by the Sterling family?” After Julian and his parents left, the director called me into her office. I stayed silent for a long time before throwing out a random excuse: “I don’t want to leave you and everyone else.” The director sighed and urged me to reconsider. I knew she meant well. She just wanted me to have a better life. But I refused to repeat the nightmare of my past life. I didn’t want anything to do with Julian ever again. However, a massive fire that night destroyed all my plans. 03 “Did you start the fire?” In the hospital, I glared coldly at Julian and interrogated him. “No,” Julian quickly explained. “The fire department already confirmed it was caused by faulty, aging electrical wiring.” After saying that, he let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Luna, you think entirely too poorly of me.” In this life, I had only met him two or three times, yet his attitude toward me carried a bizarre, inexplicable familiarity. “I just want to help you.” “If you agree to come home with me, I’ll pay for all of the director’s medical bills.” During the fire last night, the director suffered severe, third-degree burns while trying to save us. I scoffed coldly, mocking him: “Taking advantage of someone’s tragedy. Do you consider yourself a good person?” Julian didn’t try to defend himself. He simply said, “Luna, if you don’t want to be my sister, that’s fine.” “You can just be fostered by the Sterling family.” He was coaxing me, compromising step by step. But that only made me more suspicious. “Why are you so obsessed with bringing me back to the Sterling house?” Julian replied, “Because my mom has been missing my sister terribly lately, and you look a lot like her.” “I just want to bring you home to keep her company.” I was highly skeptical of his excuse. After all, his behavior toward me was completely abnormal. I asked him, “Is that really it?” Julian hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “That’s really it.” Even though I desperately wanted to avoid Julian, the director was still lying critically ill in a hospital bed. On the ride to the Sterling estate, Julian kept trying to talk to me, but I remained stubbornly silent. He probably realized he was being annoying, so he softened his tone, trying to justify himself. “The Sterling family can provide you with a much better life. No matter how you look at it, it’s better than the orphanage.” “Luna, don’t blame me. I’m doing this for your own good.” I’m doing this for your own good… The Julian from my past life used to say that exact same phrase. Julian hated me for the vast majority of my life. It wasn’t until I was dying that his attitude toward me finally softened slightly. But by then, I was beyond medical help. My only companion every day was a small cat. One day, on a whim, Julian returned to the villa to see me and ordered someone to throw away the cat I had been raising for six months. I asked him, “Why?” He looked down at me and said, “I’m doing this for your own good.” I knew then that when he said “for your own good,” he didn’t actually mean it. It was just a convenient excuse to satisfy his own selfish desires and need for control. Or perhaps it was just another method of torturing me. After all, that was his modus operandi. Whatever I loved, he destroyed. … As soon as the car pulled up to the Sterling estate, I saw Mrs. Sterling already waiting by the front door. Julian had told her in advance that he was bringing me back. So she had instructed the staff to prepare a room on the second floor early on. “Luna, this will be your room from now on.” Mrs. Sterling affectionately took my hand. “Do you like it?” I lowered my eyes, staring at my hand enveloped in hers for a moment, then gently pulled it away. I was no longer the Luna from my past life, desperately starving for a mother’s love. “Mrs. Sterling, this is your biological daughter’s room, isn’t it?” “There are so many of her old things in here, and you’ve kept them all perfectly preserved.” “It’s obvious you cherish these things deeply.” “If I stay in this room and accidentally break something, it would definitely break your heart.” “I noticed there are guest rooms downstairs. I’ll just stay in one of those.” Mrs. Sterling looked at me, clearly wanting to argue. “But…” Julian cut her off. “Mom.” “If Luna wants to stay downstairs, have the maids prepare a room for her.” I glanced at Julian, who was unexpectedly speaking up for me. He probably didn’t know that my main reason for refusing the second-floor room was because his bedroom was right next door. In my past life, before Julian’s engagement, we actually got along fairly well. During my teenage years, Mrs. Sterling even asked me, “Luna, what kind of boys do you like?” I looked at Julian, who had just returned from a run, and joked, “I like boys like my big brother.” That innocent, offhand joke eventually became the “proof” that I drugged him years later. Every time I tried to defend myself: “I didn’t drug you.” Julian would grab me by the throat and counter: “You said you liked me when you were sixteen.” “You loved me for all those years, and eventually you even stooped to drugging me to force me to marry you. Why don’t you have the guts to admit it now?” 04 Probably because I was back in this same villa, that night I dreamt about things from my past life. During the final days of my life, my doctor told me, “Being alone all day like this isn’t good for you. Call your family or friends to come keep you company.” “I don’t have any family.” As for friends… My best friend in the past used to be Julian’s fiancée, Chloe Evans. It wasn’t until the fifth year of my marriage to Julian that Chloe finally returned from abroad. Julian personally picked her up from the airport and threw a massive welcome-back party for her. Someone intentionally recorded a video at the party and sent it to me—the two of them sitting in a dimly lit corner, kissing passionately. A video that was only a few seconds long. I watched it on loop for an entire night. It was also that night that I made my final decision. I aborted what would have been my second child with Julian and handed him divorce papers. He asked me, “What’s your reason?” I showed him the video on my phone. “Julian, I know you were forced to marry me.” “But now that Chloe is back, and it looks like she’s forgiven you, let’s get a divorce. We can both move on and live our own lives.” Actually, I had brought up divorce multiple times before that. But he rejected me every single time. I thought that with Chloe back, he would finally agree. But Julian still ripped my carefully prepared divorce papers to shreds and deleted the video from my phone. … “Luna? Luna?” I jolted awake in a panic and instinctively slapped the face leaning over me. The teenage Julian looked down at me, his eyes filled with grievance. “I heard you crying from the hallway, so I came in to check on you.” With that, he turned and walked toward the door. He paused at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. “Hurry up and get ready for breakfast. We’re going to be late for school.” Just like in my past life, the Sterling family transferred me to Julian’s elite high school. Seeing me following behind him into the classroom, someone asked, “Julian, who is she?” Julian introduced me: “Her name is Luna. She’s currently staying with my family.” In a daze, I remembered my past life. Before the drugging incident ruined everything, Julian always introduced me by saying, “This is my little sister, Luna.” I looked at Julian, who was standing just a step away. I suddenly realized that he seemed very different from the Julian in my memories. He didn’t act like the teenage Julian from my past life, nor did he act like the older Julian who was constantly seeking revenge and torturing me. My heart skipped a beat as a sudden thought struck me. “Julian.” “Julian.” Just as I called his name, preparing to voice my suspicions, someone else called him at the exact same time. Julian glanced at me, then looked past me toward the door. I turned around as well. The person standing in the doorway calling him was Chloe Evans. “Julian, wait for me after school. I need to talk to you.” After saying that, Chloe finally noticed me standing next to him. The look she gave me was anything but friendly. She looked me up and down like she was sizing up an opponent. “So you’re the girl staying at the Sterling house?” After all, she was my best friend in my past life. The second Chloe looked at me, I could feel a very obvious, palpable hostility radiating from her. This was completely different from my past life. In my past life, when Chloe found out I was Julian’s sister, she immediately linked her arm through mine, affectionately called me Luna, and dragged me into her elite social circle. But right now, her attitude toward me was remarkably similar to the very last time I saw her in my past life. Our final meeting had ended terribly. I had asked her, “The security footage showed that the only people who entered Julian’s room that day were you and me. I didn’t drug him. So it was you, wasn’t it?” Back then, I couldn’t figure it out. She loved Julian so much. Why would she intentionally ruin their own engagement party? “Her name is Luna,” Julian answered for me. Chloe looked at me, offered a tight, fake smile, and didn’t say anything else. Later, as I sat at my desk, I noticed Chloe constantly turning around to glare at me. Even though I found it bizarre, I forced myself to ignore her, focus on the blackboard, and pay attention to the lesson. 05 In my past life, I was a terrible student. But Mrs. Sterling never cared that my grades were awful. In fact, it seemed like the worse I did on exams, the happier she was. She always said, “Luna is becoming more and more like my Lily. She hated studying too.” A mother who truly loves her child plans for their future. What kind of mother actively wants her daughter to be a beautiful, useless idiot? Ultimately, she never truly viewed me as her daughter. To her, I was just a living toy to provide her with a little comfort. In this life, I refused to repeat the mistakes of the past. I refused to spend the first half of my life acting as a substitute for a dead girl, and the second half living as a useless caged bird, dying a miserable death. Studying was my only way out. But studying is incredibly difficult when you’re starting from the bottom. Realizing that I genuinely couldn’t understand a single word in the textbooks, I stood up in frustration. Julian, who had been chatting with someone, noticed my movement. He turned and asked, “Where are you going?” I replied impatiently, “Restroom.” In my memory, the girls’ restroom in high school always had a massive line between classes. But surprisingly, I didn’t see anyone there today. It wasn’t until I pushed open the main door that I realized something was wrong. Several girls inside all turned their heads simultaneously to look at me standing in the doorway. The girl closest to me was Chloe. She dropped her cigarette, glanced at the girl they had pinned to the wet floor—who was covered in dirty water—and then walked toward me. She smiled. “Just playing a little joke on her. Just messing around.” “You won’t tell Julian, right?” Looking at the cigarette butt on the floor, I suddenly realized I never truly knew Chloe at all. Otherwise, how could I not have known that in high school, she smoked and actively bullied her classmates? I thought for a moment and said, “I’m not that close with Julian anyway.” “Really?” Chloe asked, though her expression clearly relaxed. “Aren’t you living at his house?” I met her gaze. “I’m staying at his house, yes. But we aren’t close.” Chloe nodded. “Good.” With that, she quickly led her group out of the restroom. Once they were gone, I finally looked down at the girl on the floor. I quickly looked away and walked into a stall. When I came out, the girl was standing by the mop sink, her back to me. She was only wearing a camisole. She was rinsing the shirt she had been wearing under the faucet. Hearing the stall door open, she hurriedly wrung out the wet shirt, put it right back on, and kept her head down as she quickly tried to run out. As she passed me, I suddenly reached out and grabbed her arm. The girl looked up at me in confusion, and I looked back at her. After a long, silent moment of eye contact, I finally remembered her name. Mia. I took off my uniform jacket and tossed it to her. “Your shirt is soaking wet. Wear mine.” Mia immediately lowered her head again and refused. “No thank you.” “Your wet shirt is practically transparent. You can see your undershirt.” My words caused Mia’s ears to flush a deep, burning red. She awkwardly raised her arms to cover her chest. She hesitated for a long time before finally accepting my jacket. Seeing Mia walk into a stall to change, I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. I’m not usually someone who likes to meddle in other people’s business. But in my past life, just a few days after I transferred to this school, Mia jumped off the school roof and died. The school claimed it was due to family issues and the overwhelming pressure of her studies. But looking at her now, the reason for her suicide was clearly much more complicated. It was a young life, after all… “Thank you.” Mia, now wearing my jacket, thanked me. “You’re welcome” was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back down. After a moment of thought, I asked her, “Your grades must be really good, right?” I remembered that before Mia jumped, she was ranked number one in our entire grade. She froze for a second, then nodded. “They’re okay.” “Mia.” I glanced at my jacket she was wearing. “I’ll lend you my jacket, and you tutor me.” I didn’t give her a chance to refuse. I kept talking: “After the upcoming pop quiz, we get to pick new seats based on our rankings. We should sit together so it’s easier for you to tutor me.” Mia hesitated for a long time before finally agreeing. After school, Julian stubbornly insisted that I ride home in his car with him. But as soon as I got in the car, Chloe stopped him. “Julian, can we talk?” I wasn’t interested in their drama, and I certainly didn’t want to eavesdrop. But it was quiet around the cars, Chloe was highly emotional, and her voice was very loud. The wind carried their conversation straight into my ears. Chloe asked Julian, “Did you break up with me because of Luna?” “Julian, we’ve been together for so long. The second Luna shows up, you dump me. I can’t think of any other reason.” Julian’s tone was helpless. “It has nothing to do with anyone else.” “Chloe, I just realized that my feelings for you aren’t romantic. I’ve always just seen you as a sister.” In an instant, I understood why Chloe had been paying so much attention to me today, constantly turning around to glare at me during class. 06 During dinner, Mrs. Sterling suddenly announced, “Luna, I hired a piano teacher for you today. Starting tomorrow…” She was cut off by Julian before she could finish. “Mom, Luna doesn’t like playing the piano. Don’t force your own hobbies onto her.” Mrs. Sterling offered an awkward smile but didn’t argue further. I looked up at Julian, my previous suspicions now fully confirmed. In this life, I had never told Julian that I didn’t like playing the piano. The only person who knew I hated the piano was the Julian from my past life. It happened when my illness took a sharp turn for the worse after he threw away my cat. Julian, who mutually despised me, surprisingly dropped all his work and moved back into the villa to take care of me. It happened to coincide with our 19th wedding anniversary. Julian gifted me a custom Steinway piano, flown in from overseas. Even when I told him, “I don’t like the piano. The only reason I ever learned was because your mom liked it.” Julian simply bought me an extravagant set of jewelry later that same night to make up for it. He had suddenly transformed into a completely different person, treating me with meticulous care and patience. “How do you know Luna doesn’t like the piano?” Refusing to give up entirely, Mrs. Sterling asked me again, “Luna, do you want to learn to play?” I pulled myself back to the present and politely declined with a smile. “Mrs. Sterling, I really need to focus on my studies. I honestly don’t have the time to learn the piano right now.” After dinner, as I was heading back to my room to rest, Julian stopped me. “Luna.” “Tomorrow after the quiz, we get to pick our seats based on our rank. Where do you want to sit?” When I didn’t answer, Julian continued, “How about the fifth row by the window? Is that okay?” That was exactly the seat I occupied throughout high school in my past life. Julian stared at me intensely, desperately waiting for my response. I gave him a long, hard look before saying dismissively, “Whatever.” My brush-off seemed to make Julian incredibly happy. Until the next day. When he watched me walk right past him and take the empty seat next to Mia. “Luna,” Julian called out to me in front of the whole class. His lips twitched into a strained smile as he asked, “Did you… take the wrong seat?” “Nope.” Julian stood there awkwardly. It took him a long time before he silently sat down elsewhere. “You had the first pick for seats! Why did you choose this one?” I couldn’t help but complain to Mia. Mia had picked a terrible seat—dead center, right in the very first row. “I’m nearsighted. If I sit any further back, I can’t read the chalkboard.” She didn’t usually wear glasses. Seeing my skeptical look, Mia openly explained, “I don’t have any extra money, so I never got glasses made.” “Oh.” I pouted. “I thought you were just worried someone would want to sit next to you, so you intentionally picked the worst seat in the class to save it for me.” Mia looked up from her test paper and told me with absolute honesty, “You’re overthinking it.” Regardless of whether I was overthinking it or not. After school, I dragged Mia to an optometrist near the campus and forcefully bought her a pair of prescription glasses. I used the excuse: “If you can’t see the board and your grades drop, who’s going to tutor me?” “Consider these glasses your tutoring fee.” I was using Julian’s money anyway. He owed me so much; spending a little of his money was the least he could do. I originally just wanted to get Mia some glasses, but I never expected it to make her cry. When she was being bullied by Chloe and her gang, Mia hadn’t shed a single tear. But when I put the glasses on her face, she started sobbing uncontrollably. Mia kept choking out, “Luna, when I have money in the future, I will definitely pay you back.” It took forever to calm her down. When I got back to the classroom building, Julian cornered me in the stairwell. He interrogated me: “Why didn’t you pick the seat we agreed on?” “Who agreed to anything with you?” I retorted impatiently. “Julian, did I ever make a promise to you?” Julian was instantly silenced. He stared at me for a long time before finally saying, “Luna, why is everything so different?” “Are you also…” I smiled and looked right back at him. “Am I also what?” Unfortunately, Julian didn’t answer me. But the fact that he cornered me in the stairwell quickly reached Chloe’s ears. After class, Chloe came over specifically to warn me: “Stay away from Julian.” Out of concern, Mia also advised me: “Luna, you really should stay away from Julian. Try not to interact with him.” To convince me, she proactively brought up the real reason Chloe had been bullying her. “Julian only asked me for help with one math problem, and Chloe immediately accused me of trying to seduce him.” “Luna, Chloe is not someone you want to mess with. I’m worried she’s going to target you.” I would love nothing more than to stay as far away from Julian as possible, but the guy was like a clingy ghost. He would constantly appear right next to me when I least expected it. I let out a silent sigh. I put down my workbook, reached over, and hugged a very worried-looking Mia. “Don’t worry.” However, Mia’s worries quickly came true.

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“If you ever want a divorce, you can have it at any time.” That was what Julian told me on our wedding day. I believed him. Two months later, the day his true love returned, I placed the divorce papers in front of him. Julian looked out the window, his expression completely blank. “It’s raining.” “I’m in a bad mood. Let’s divorce next time.” I stared at him. What?! 1 On the very night his beloved Chloe returned, fueled by the liquid courage of too many drinks, I slept with Julian. The trail of discarded clothes, starting right from the front door, was a testament to the desperate urgency of the encounter. Julian fought to keep his rationality, trying to push me away. His bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing slowly. “Mia, look at me. Look closely at who I am.” “If we keep going, don’t regret it.” I was panting slightly. Looking up at him, I grabbed his collar, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed him. What a joke. I’m sleeping with my legal husband. What’s there to regret? It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that I actually started regretting it. This guy’s stamina was terrifying. I tried to sneak away, but a hand wrapped around my ankle and dragged me right back. Warm breath ghosted over my ear. Julian’s voice was deep and husky, brushing against the back of my neck and sending shivers down my spine. “Be a good girl. Quitting halfway through is strictly prohibited.” 2 It was a night of pure, reckless indulgence. When I woke up, the space beside me was empty. A glass of milk and a sandwich sat on the nightstand, along with a sticky note from Julian. The words were overflowing with tender concern. Since our wedding, Julian had diligently played the role of the perfect husband. I often caught myself under the illusion that I was actually loved. But rationality always pulled me back. Julian was in love with Chloe. The person he was originally supposed to marry was Chloe. But my sister, who had always done exactly as she pleased, became a runaway bride. I heard Julian chased her all the way to the airport. For whatever reason, she didn’t get on that flight to France. Out of spite and anger. Later, when the families tried to shove me—the older sister he barely knew—at him as a replacement, he didn’t fight it. It was only when I excused myself to the restroom that he finally let slip a hint of exhausted apathy toward our relatives’ endless teasing: “Do I even have the right to refuse?” “Since you’ve all decided, I don’t care.” Because I wasn’t the person in his heart, it didn’t matter who it was. Anyone would do. On our wedding day, the very first thing Julian said to me was: “If you ever want a divorce, you can have it at any time.” I didn’t expect that a mere two months after the wedding, Chloe would return. I’ve always known exactly where I stand. Ignoring the breakfast on the nightstand, I picked up my phone and called my lawyer, Elena. “Draft a divorce agreement for me, please.” Elena’s shocked, dramatic squawking echoed through the phone. Outside, the sun was shining brightly, but a sudden, heavy downpour began. I couldn’t help but zone out, lost in thought. 3 That same evening, I placed the divorce papers directly in front of Julian. In the quiet study, the man sat there in a crisp white dress shirt, radiating an aura of aristocratic elegance and gentleness. He was completely different from the boy in my memories. I had only seen Julian fight once. It was in a filthy, secluded alley near the old campus of the university. To inflict maximum pain, he held a solid metal Zippo lighter in his fist, his strikes brutal and merciless. The sound of shattering bone echoed in the air, mixing with the other man’s agonizing screams. His slightly youthful, handsome face looked almost demonic as it became splattered with crimson blood. That was the first time I met the person Chloe talked about constantly. The sole heir to the Sterling Conglomerate. Violent, arrogant, and entirely fearless. Perhaps because that summer was unusually hot and suffocatingly humid, I inexplicably despised him. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Julian was still staring silently at the piece of paper. It had been so long I started to question his literacy. I couldn’t help but ask: “Do you not know how to read?” Julian finally moved. He turned his head to look out the window, his expression completely blank. “It rained all day today.” I followed his gaze to the damp windowpanes. Okay, and? “I’m in a bad mood. Let’s divorce next time.” Me: ??? … Over the next two days, Julian and I engaged in a bizarre, unspoken tug-of-war. Our text history was stuck on a message I sent that morning, reminding him to sign the papers. He had intentionally ignored me again. Me: [You’re running away.] Julian: [Running away is shameful, but it works.] A moment later, my phone buzzed a few more times. [You sleep with me and then dump me. You’re heartless.] What is he talking about?! Aren’t I graciously making way for his true love? [Are you mad because I made you uncomfortable last night?] [Fine, I admit I don’t have much experience, but you acting like this is really embarrassing for me.] [Besides, you were clearly enjoying it later on. /frustrated emoji] His blatant, shameless texts made my face burn. [You were the one who said I could have a divorce anytime I wanted.] Julian: […] [You talk too much. I’m blocking you for half a day.] When I tried to reply. A system message popped up: The recipient has rejected your message. Me: ??? This guy is acting like a literal child. 4 I originally planned to go home tonight, tie him to a chair, and force him to sign the papers. But halfway there, I got a call from my family’s main estate. Sighing, I turned the car around and drove to the family home. As soon as I walked in, I heard laughter and cheerful chatter spilling from the living room. “Chloe is getting prettier every day.” Chloe was sitting in the center of the room. The teasing and compliments from our relatives had turned her face a flush, delicate pink, making her look like a perfectly ripe peach. “She looks so perfect with that Sterling boy. Such a shame.” “If you hadn’t run away from the wedding, you’d be the future matriarch of the Sterling family right now.” Chloe quickly tried to stop them. “Julian is already married to my sister. It’s inappropriate to make jokes like that.” The relatives were completely dismissive. “What’s inappropriate about it? They’re married, but they can still get divorced.” “As long as the Sterling family agrees, swapping brides is nothing.” These were all relatives from my father’s side of the family. They had never liked me. Because I looked exactly like my biological mother. That poor, tragic woman. She risked her entire inheritance from her father to help a ruined man rebuild his business empire from scratch. And in return, she was betrayed over and over again. Ultimately, driven insane by depression, she died alone in a remote sanatorium. I scoffed, clapping my hands slowly as I walked toward the crowd. “Since when did the Harrison family start encouraging girls to steal their brother-in-law?” “But you are right about one thing.” “I’ve already handed the divorce papers to Julian.” I stopped walking, locking eyes with Chloe’s wide, innocent doe eyes. The corners of my mouth curled into a mocking smirk. “Do you want to go cry and whine to him so he kicks me out faster? Then you can finally take my place.” “Just like your mother did.” Chloe’s face instantly drained of color. Tears immediately pooled in her eyes, creating a picture of fragile victimization that would make anyone’s heart ache. “You ungrateful wretch!” My father’s furious roar echoed from behind me. I whipped around, only to unexpectedly lock eyes with a pair of dark, deep-set eyes swirling with unreadable emotions. “…” Why the hell was Julian here?!

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The rich kid, Lucas Czuchry, faked bankruptcy, stealing my much-needed scholarship spot. Desperate for the money, I went to confront him, only to overhear his conversation with Jess Thorne. “Thanks to you, Jess, I managed to secure that scholarship. Couldn’t have done it without you.” Jess’s eyes, usually so bright, cast downwards, her tone cool and detached. “Liam is good in every way, but he’s too materialistic and shrewd. Letting him take a hit this time will help temper his character.” So, in her eyes, my poverty was merely “materialistic and shrewd.” We’d known each other for eight years, dated for two. This time, I decided to let go. 1 The private room pulsed with flashing lights and loud music, a blur of red and green. My heart throbbed as I listened to Lucas’s gushing words of gratitude. Someone, feigning a joke, quipped, “Jess, your boyfriend’s family is so poor, are you really letting him suffer?” Jess took a moment, then exhaled a long plume of smoke. “Liam is my boyfriend. If no one else sponsors him, I’ll support him myself.” Lucas, with a smug tilt of his chin, challenged, “Jess, you’re so good to Liam, we’re all jealous. But Liam’s not like us. What if he’s just after your money?” Jess leaned back into the sofa, her tone languid and tinged with condescension. “Liam is good in every way, but he’s too materialistic and shrewd. Letting him take a hit this time will help temper his character.” “You guys never saw it, but he once argued over ten bucks with someone. It was so embarrassing.” “But, if he really likes money, I have plenty. After all, keeping a little bird doesn’t cost much.” The room erupted in laughter, everyone praising Jess’s wisdom. Lucas snorted, “Are you really that fond of Liam?” Jess chuckled lightly, “Yes.” Ha. Is that so? My fists clenched. I couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous. For two years, while dating Jess, I truly believed she loved me. Even she thought so. But what she loved was Liam—the ambitious, brilliant student who shone brightly at school. She ignored my poverty, the hardship of my struggle to survive, my faded clothes, and my worn-out shoes. A dismissive remark about me being “materialistic and shrewd” branded my very soul. Little did I know this wasn’t love, but a gaze. A condescending gaze from above. So, I pushed open the private room door and walked straight up to Jess, correcting her with a solemn voice: “No. Jess. “You don’t love me.” 2 A deathly silence fell over the private room. Jess had introduced me to her closest friends, so I was somewhat familiar with these faces today. People really are diverse, aren’t they? To my face, they’d call me “brother-in-law,” but behind my back, they reveled in my humiliation, using it for their entertainment. “Liam, you heard all that?” Jess’s eyes flickered. She tried to reach for my hand, but I pulled away. I’d never publicly embarrassed her before, and her face immediately darkened. I offered a slight smile, slipping off the couple’s ring from my finger. “In two years, I only ever asked you for one gift: a two-hundred-dollar matching ring.” My palm turned down, the silver band gleaming under the dim lights. Then, with a soft thud, I tossed it casually onto the floor. I met Jess’s furious gaze, speaking each word clearly and forcefully: “Consider us even. It’s yours now.” “CRASH!” Everyone flinched. Jess slammed her wine glass onto the floor, her eyes burning red. “Liam, are you serious? Over just one scholarship, you’re making such a scene!” Making a scene. The words stung coming from her lips. Jess had forgotten: in high school, to save money, I walked home every day. Some boys publicly called me a hypocrite, claiming a lean, good-looking guy like me was just playing innocent. All along the way, countless girls stared at me. My face flushed, my fists clenched, unsure how to retort. It was Jess who had stepped forward, kicking over the boy’s desk and shielding me. “Liam is mine. If I hear any of you say another bad word about him, try me.” The feeling of falling in love then was real. But the pain now was just as real. Oh, and that boy? That was Lucas. 3 I slowly pulled my thoughts back, my chest rising and falling, finally expelling a sigh of frustration. I figured it must have been Jess’s possessiveness, hearing Lucas mention girls staring at me, that made her so angry. So, it wasn’t entirely for me. It was purely about her pride. Lucas, with a taunting tilt of his chin, cackled incessantly. “Jess, what are you saying? Liam’s angry, go sweet-talk him!” Jess’s eyes were deep and dark, fixed on me like a snake finding its prey. Damp, sticky, and utterly unnerving. That’s how she got when she was angry—not saying a word, but forcing me to appease her. A classic diva tantrum, some would call it. But didn’t poor people deserve to have tempers too? I coldly averted my gaze, turning to Lucas. I asked, with what I considered utmost politeness: “I heard your family went bankrupt?” Lucas froze, then wrinkled his nose, his face openly hostile. “Liam, why do you smell like trash? My family isn’t bankrupt, and don’t come near me, I’m afraid I’ll catch something from you!” I smiled faintly. “Oh? Then why are you on the scholarship list? Could it be that young master Lucas wants to experience life as a scavenger too?” Lucas crossed his arms, rather imperiously. “Liam, Liam, I just wanted to experience how you lower-class people live. But you? You’re destined to pick scraps, always destined to pick scraps. I’ll tell you, it was Jess who deliberately let you use her smartphone so you’d be photographed, and that’s how I got your spot!” Oh, so that’s how it was. I lowered my lashes, a faint pang in my heart. Jess was a germaphobe; she never allowed me to touch her things. I remembered one time, it was raining, and she had a stomachache. I ran to buy her food, and in my haste, I fell and scraped my knee, covered in mud. She frowned at my wound, silent. I urged her to eat, but she simply tossed the food into the trash. She said, “Liam, don’t get hurt for me; it worries me. And also, I don’t like touching things others have touched. It’s dirty.” But her germophobia was fake, and her affection was fake too. She just found me dirty. The earthy smell of rain was exactly like the small shack where my grandfather and I lived. A shack piled high with scrap metal. Lucas was right. I made a living by selling salvaged goods. But I never felt ashamed because of it. 4 “Enough!” Jess suddenly roared. She seemed very tired, rubbing her temples. “Liam, it’s just a scholarship, twenty thousand dollars. Do you really need to fight with Lucas over it? If you need money, I can transfer you five hundred thousand right now.” Jess’s friends immediately chimed in. “Exactly, Liam, Jess still cares for you a lot.” “Liam, I’ll speak fairly. Jess even fell out with Lucas because of you before. She truly loves you.” “It’s just twenty thousand dollars, that’s barely the cost of a pair of shoes. Liam, just forgive Jess this time.” I felt a cold detachment. Twenty thousand dollars might not be much to them, but it was my grandfather’s and my food money for an entire year. Twenty thousand dollars might buy only one pair of shoes on Jess’s feet, but it was the hope I desperately clung to for survival. Last year, when the class representative announced the scholarship selection in the group chat, these spoiled rich kids were laughing and joking. “Who would go for that? Three thousand dollars for one meal?” “Exactly, exactly, I’d look down on anyone who applied for that. Are they really that poor?” Their lives revolved around money, money, and more money. Mine was different; it was filled with poverty, vulnerability, and helplessness. Yes, I was that poor. I needed that money. I couldn’t forget Lucas’s sneering expression when I submitted my application. Nor could I forget the fleeting look of embarrassment on Jess’s face. That day, I broke up with her. Jess refused, pulling me tightly into her arms, apologizing repeatedly. But her way of compensation was to have Lucas take my spot the following year. How ridiculous. Twenty thousand dollars might not be much. But as Jess said, I am materialistic, shrewd, and calculative. So, this was my last shred of dignity. 5 “Jess, you still don’t understand. I said we should break up last year, and you disagreed. So, I’ll say it again.” My voice was soft, yet it carried clearly to everyone in the room. All their faces darkened. I simply smiled and left the private room. Behind me, I faintly heard the sound of things smashing and voices trying to mediate. “Liam is so petty, Jess shouldn’t be with him anymore.” “He really went too far this time. I don’t get what twenty thousand dollars can even do.” … “Pauper,” “excessive,” “disgusting”—these words pierced my ears, but I didn’t care. Outside, it was raining, the sky a gloomy, hazy gray, obscuring my view. Sigh, a little sadness. But when I picked up my phone and listened to the entire recording, I felt much better. Not a single word was missed. It completely documented the truth of how I was wronged, and the fact that Lucas had deliberately taken my spot. I needed that money. I really, really needed it. Just as I finished deleting all of Jess and her friends’ contact information, my phone rang. It was Mr. Peterson, our neighbor. His anxious voice came through: “Liam, where are you? Come home quickly, someone’s here to collect money from your grandfather!” My heart lurched. My mind went blank for nearly three seconds, then I ran home as fast as I could. My grandfather was getting old, his health deteriorating. Not long ago, he’d been hospitalized due to illness. The scholarship money was precisely what I intended to use to pay off the debt. I had set a date with them, and they had agreed, but I never expected them to show up today to collect! My thoughts were a mess, growing more jumbled with every rapid step. Suddenly, I stumbled forward, falling straight into someone’s arms. “Liam? What are you running so fast for? Be careful you don’t fall.” I looked up. It was Iris, a senior from the lab. 6 I didn’t have time to explain to Iris. I quickly thanked her, intending to leave immediately. But Iris held onto me. “Are you in a hurry? If you are, I can drive you.” Without a second thought, I nodded. Iris’s eyes curved slightly, and she led me to her car. Because I was worried about my grandfather, I had chosen a local university when applying. Iris knew this; she had helped me submit my documents when I first joined the lab. The drive was silent. It was Iris who broke it first. “Liam, did something happen at home? Why were you running so fast?” “Yes, my grandfather is in trouble. Someone came to collect a debt.” Iris stopped asking questions. She floored the accelerator, keeping to the fastest possible speed all the way home. As soon as I arrived, I pushed open the car door, only to see my grandfather truly surrounded by those men! “Well, well, the young Mr. Davies is back.” “Don’t blame us for breaking our word. Someone insisted you pay today, so we couldn’t help it, could we?” My grandfather, his back stooped, was trembling. “It’s all my fault, an old man like me, burdening our Liam. I’ll kneel here for you, please don’t make trouble for a young man like him.” “Our Liam still has school, please don’t make things difficult for him! We will pay back this money!” Seeing my grandfather about to kneel, I quickly rushed forward to help him up. A bitter taste filled my mouth, and I clenched my fists before I could compose myself. I forced a calm tone. “Gentlemen, you just said someone demanded I pay today. Could you tell me, who made this demand?” The men exchanged glances. Finally, a burly man with a scar across his face spoke. “Young man, that’s none of your business. Just think about who you’ve had a beef with lately, won’t you?” Inexplicably, Lucas’s name flashed through my mind. The only reason I knew where their gathering was today was because Lucas had sent me a location. It seemed everything was his carefully orchestrated plan! “Can you give me one more month? I’ve applied for a student aid grant, and it should be disbursed in a month. I’ll also work odd jobs this month. Please, just one more month.” The burly man chuckled. “That’s not up to us to decide.” Suddenly, a voice rang out from outside the house: “I’ll pay it for him.”

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After a massive fight and breaking up with my boyfriend… I angrily posted on my social media: [Currently single. The first man to appear in front of me within thirty minutes will be my new boyfriend.] Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Standing outside wasn’t my ex begging for forgiveness. It was my childhood nemesis, Ethan Vance. 1 “What are you doing here?” I leaned against the doorframe, frowning at the man in front of me. I obviously didn’t think Ethan came because of my post. After all, even though we grew up together, we’ve never gotten along. He was the straight-A student who constantly ranked first, and I was the slacker who always brought up the rear. He despised my lack of ambition; I despised his pretentious, holier-than-thou attitude. Unfortunately, my parents absolutely adored him and trusted him implicitly. After I moved out, they frequently asked Ethan—who lived nearby—to “keep an eye” on me. Ethan always played the role of the perfect student, so he executed even this annoying task with absolute precision. He lowered his eyelids, his expression indifferent, and delivered a line that didn’t surprise me at all: “Auntie asked me to check on you.” I knew it. Even if 99% of the men in the world were lining up to be my boyfriend… Ethan Vance absolutely wouldn’t be one of them. I let out an “Oh,” and said, “Well, as you can see, I’m fine.” I raised my hand to close the door but suddenly met resistance. Ethan pushed against the door with one hand and held out a bag with the other. “My mom told me to bring you some chocolates.” Even though I hated Ethan, I always had a great relationship with his mother. She knew I loved chocolate and often brought back different brands for me when she traveled abroad. I peered into the bag. Besides a few boxes of chocolates… There was a rare, out-of-print foreign book I had been searching for forever. I was genuinely surprised. “Is this from your mom too?” Ethan didn’t confirm or deny it, looking as if he had no idea what was in the bag. My mood instantly improved, and even Ethan looked a bit more tolerable. My tone warmed up significantly. “Thanks. Have a safe trip back.” Ethan stood outside, unmoving, his hand still pressing against the door. His tone was flat: “Is this how you treat a guest?” Technically speaking, kicking him out right after he delivered a gift was a bit ungrateful. But who was Ethan? He was as disciplined as a clockwork machine. He went to bed on time, woke up on time, and the number of times he deviated from his schedule over the years could be counted on one hand. Furthermore, he smelled faintly of fresh body wash, clearly looking like a man who had just showered and was ready for bed. I glanced at his slightly damp hair, a bit surprised. Would a meticulous guy like Ethan actually leave the house without fully drying his hair? After a moment’s thought, I stepped aside and offered tentatively, “Want to come in?” He walked in without a second’s hesitation. Mr. Robot-Ethan was incredibly organized; everything had to be placed with strict, rigid precision, just like him. I, on the other hand, was used to grabbing things and leaving them wherever. My apartment was a chaotic mess, practically tap-dancing on his last nerve. Sure enough, he stopped in the living room, scanned the area, and frowned slightly: “You…” “The front door is right there.” I cut him off. “If you don’t like it, leave.” Ethan shut his mouth. Winning the first round, I walked to the kitchen island with satisfaction, grabbed an open bottle of wine, and poured two glasses. I slid one glass toward Ethan. “Here.” Ethan never drank. He stared at the glass in front of him with absolutely no intention of touching it. Normally, I would just ignore him, but I was in a terrible mood tonight, and he had practically thrown himself into my line of fire. I glanced at his rigid, perfect posture and a mocking smirk curled my lips: “Ethan, you really are as boring as ever. “If you keep acting like this, you won’t find a girlfriend for another thirty years.” I wasn’t being polite. Ethan was devastatingly handsome and incredibly capable; he never lacked pursuers. Yet, he had never been in a relationship. I had mocked his ‘ancient relic’ demeanor more than once, noting that any girl who got close to him would quickly find him dull and suffocating. Usually, Ethan would completely ignore my provocations. But today, he gave me several strange looks, then looked down at the wine. Finally, as if making a massive decision, he picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp, right in front of my shocked eyes. “Cough!” He choked and coughed twice, a flush of red appearing on his pale face. “Ethan.” My mind went completely blank with shock, so much so that I almost forgot how much I hated him. I instinctively reached out and pressed my hand against his forehead. “Did you finally run a high fever and fry your brain?” A man who hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in over twenty years had just obediently downed a whole glass. I tried to hold back, but couldn’t: “Did you… did you get diagnosed with a terminal illness?” Otherwise, I truly had no explanation for what I just witnessed. “No.” Ethan held out his hand. “Phone.” I asked automatically, “Don’t you have your own?” “I left in a hurry and forgot it.” Ethan said, “I need to call my mom.” If he wanted to call anyone else, I would have kicked him out to use his own phone. But since his mother had just given me such an incredible gift, out of respect for her, I decided to be nice to him. Ethan took the phone and walked straight to the balcony. I narrowed my eyes. Did he really need to go that far just to talk to his mom? My intuition told me that Ethan was acting very strange tonight. But we weren’t close, loving friends; we were mortal enemies in a fight to the death. So, I really didn’t care. 2 After finishing his call, Ethan lingered in my apartment for quite a while, showing absolutely no signs of leaving. Seeing that it was almost past his strict bedtime, I reminded him, “Aren’t you going home to sleep?” In my entire memory, Ethan had only stayed up past 10 PM twice. Once was when all the adults were out of town, and I spiked a dangerously high fever. Ethan was forced to take on the heavy responsibility of looking after me, staying by my side the entire night. The other time was when I went out with friends, my phone broke on the way back, and I was severely delayed. When I finally got home, Ethan was there. Even though my parents insisted he stayed up late because he was worried about me, I still firmly believed it was far more likely he just wanted a front-row seat to watch me get yelled at. “Mm.” Ethan suddenly spoke up: “That post on your social media… delete it.” I froze for a few seconds. “What?” Ethan repeated himself: “The post about the first person to appear in front of you within thirty minutes becoming your boyfriend. Delete it.” Confusion and bewilderment rolled through my mind, finally settling into sheer irritation. Maybe it was the alcohol amplifying my depression, or maybe Ethan’s words reminded me that the specific person I wanted to see hadn’t shown up. Or maybe having my vulnerability exposed in front of my lifelong nemesis made me feel humiliated. Or perhaps his commanding tone simply pissed me off. I clenched my fists, glaring coldly at Ethan, and enunciated every word: “What does that have to do with you?” “Ethan, do you actually think that just because my parents asked you to ‘keep an eye’ on me, you actually have the right to dictate my life?” The anger rising in my chest began to burn away my rationality. “Who do you think you are? What gives you the right?” “Mia!” Ethan let out a low growl. His face was flushed bright red, though whether from anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. The alcohol had clearly stripped away his legendary self-control. This was his first time losing his composure like this. “How does it have nothing to do with me?” Ethan’s voice was low and strained. “You said the first person to appear in front of you in thirty minutes would be your new boyfriend. I am the only one here!” “So what?” I sneered. “The ‘person to appear in front of me’ definitely doesn’t include you. Even if every other man in the world died, it still wouldn’t be you.” “Why not?!” Ethan’s eyes turned red, his hands trembling slightly at his sides, as if he found my words completely unacceptable. He took a step closer, his presence aggressive and demanding. “We met first! Why does every single one of them get a chance, but I don’t?!” Ethan and I rarely spoke politely to each other, but we had never ripped into each other like this before. I fully expected him to turn around and leave, and probably ignore me for at least a month. I absolutely never expected to hear a question that sounded so incredibly… jealous. I was completely stumped, unsure of how to answer. Ethan stopped right in front of me, standing incredibly close. He lowered his head, looking like a pitiful, abandoned puppy, yet murmuring like a desperate lover, “Why… why not me?” I took a deep breath and looked away. “Ethan, you’re drunk.” “I am not.” He reached out, half-encircling me, trapping me firmly between the kitchen island and his chest. Ethan asked stubbornly, “Why not?” There was nowhere left to run. “Because I don’t like you, and you don’t like me.” “Other couples can be all lovey-dovey every day. If we kissed, I’d probably throw up last night’s dinner.” “Who says?” Ethan seemed incredibly determined to prove me wrong. He cupped the back of my head with one hand and leaned in, kissing me with an undeniable, unyielding force. He held my shoulders, pulling me in so tightly it felt like he wanted to crush me into himself. I had no idea how things had escalated to this point. Ethan’s kiss was inexperienced, but fierce as a violent storm. My head spun, my legs went weak, and he effortlessly pinned my struggling hands behind my back. Half-carrying me, he walked straight toward the bedroom. “Ethan!” My heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. The last shred of my rationality screamed that the Harrison and Vance families were lifelong friends, and we couldn’t let things spiral past the point of no return. “We can’t do this.” Ethan completely ignored me. He reached over, grabbed a hair tie from the vanity, and loosely bound my wrists. He pinned my hands above my head. “Who says we can’t?” His cool lips crashed down on mine again. “I can.” Drunk people are famously unreasonable, and a drunk Ethan was apparently the most unreasonable of them all. I caught sight of the bedside lamp out of the corner of my eye. Just as I was calculating the exact angle and force needed to knock him out without causing permanent brain damage, the head buried in my neck suddenly went completely limp. The sound of deep, even breathing echoed in my ear. Me: “…” I struggled to untie my wrists, then shoved the heavy weight entirely crushing me. He didn’t move an inch. “Ethan.” “I don’t feel good,” he mumbled, instinctively rolling over. Relieved, I was just about to get up and leave. Two arms suddenly shot out from behind me, yanking me back into a tight embrace. “Ethan!” I tried my old excuse. “I need to use the bathroom.” The arms around me didn’t loosen; they tightened, pulling me even closer into his chest. I seriously started to suspect he was faking it. After struggling and failing to push him away, I decided to just give up. Sleeping in someone’s arms is still sleeping. Besides, even though I didn’t like Ethan, his face and body were undeniably top-tier. Technically, I wasn’t really losing out. Plus, just imagining the absolute horror on his face when he woke up tomorrow and saw this… I found the idea hilarious and couldn’t wait to see it. While my mind was wandering through endless scenarios, the person next to me shifted closer. A soft, affectionate murmur whispered my name: “Mia.” It felt like an electric shock running through me, leaving me completely stunned. I had known Ethan for over twenty years, and I never imagined a day would come when we’d be lying together like this. Let alone hear him say my name with that tone of voice. And surprisingly… it wasn’t as unbearable as I expected. Just like the sudden kiss didn’t actually make me want to throw up. In fact, it wasn’t terrible at all. His lips were unlike his cold, hard exterior; they were incredibly soft and carried a crisp, minty scent. I let out a long sigh. I really had been single for too long if even my lifelong nemesis was starting to look appealing. It was getting cold; it was definitely time to find a new young boyfriend. 3 Early the next morning, still half asleep, I vaguely heard noises coming from the living room. Listening closely, it sounded like people whispering and the thud of heavy items being moved. Did a group of thieves break in?! Last night, I was forcefully dragged into the bedroom by Ethan. My phone wasn’t nearby, so I couldn’t call security or the police. Gathering my courage, I grabbed a baseball bat, crept to the door, and peeked out through a tiny crack. Three men in moving company uniforms were quietly carrying boxes from the hallway into my apartment. And the guy in a tailored suit, keeping his voice down while directing them… who else could it be but Ethan? I dropped the bat, pulled the door open, and stepped out. “Ethan, what the hell are you doing?” Some of the boxes were open, leaving their contents completely visible. Specifically, a few incredibly dense, headache-inducing academic books that I had only ever seen in Ethan’s private study. Why was Ethan moving those things here? “Moving in.” Ethan didn’t even blink. He said it as casually as commenting on the weather. …Moving in? Moving what in? Why the hell are you moving your stuff into my apartment?! The sheer volume of questions briefly short-circuited my brain. It took me a long time to finally find my voice. “Ethan, did you get alcohol poisoning last night and suffer permanent brain damage before the paramedics arrived?!” Why else would he move into the wrong apartment? Faced with my aggressive attack, Ethan remained perfectly calm. “No. “Mia, I am deeply sorry for what happened after I got drunk last night. But I will take full responsibility for you.” The three movers, who had been diligently working, instantly froze, their ears practically twitching in sync. We literally just shared one kiss! Could you not phrase it like we did something incredibly scandalous?! “Ethan, get this through your head: absolutely nothing happened between us last night.” I grabbed his arm and dragged him into the bedroom. “Hurry up and move your stuff back.” “No. I have to take responsibility.” “Take responsibility for what?!” I was starting to deeply regret not throwing him out last night. Instead of watching a good show, I had walked straight into a trap. I spoke rapidly: “I don’t need you to take responsibility! If kissing required ‘taking responsibility,’ I’d have hundreds of people to take responsibility for! “Besides, whatever happened last night absolutely does not count as a real kiss. “Now get out!” Ethan frowned deeply. “How does that not count as a kiss? Exactly how many people have you kissed?!” …Is that really the main takeaway here? The main point was the last sentence! “I’m not leaving.” Ethan stated flatly, “I already terminated my lease. I have nowhere else to go.” “?” Ethan, the ultimate control freak who mapped out every major and minor life event on meticulously color-coded spreadsheets, somehow found himself with ‘nowhere to go’? I didn’t buy it for a second. “Get out!” “Fine.” Ethan agreed, seemingly admitting defeat. But before I could celebrate, he pulled out his phone. “In that case, I’ll just have to call Auntie and Uncle to explain exactly what happened last night…” “!” My parents were absolutely obsessed with Ethan. They practically wanted to adopt him as their live-in son-in-law. If they found out about whatever happened between us last night, they would absolutely force me to marry him. I violently snatched the phone from his hand. “Don’t! “It’s just moving in, right? It’s just taking responsibility, right?” I forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “If you like it here so much, just stay! Why bother the old folks?” 4 At first, I thought Ethan was just messing with me. But after a week passed, he seemed perfectly at home in my apartment, looking even more comfortable than I was. No, this isn’t working. I watched Ethan casually setting out breakfast and shook my head violently. This couldn’t go on. I had to find a way to pack him up and ship him back before my parents found out. Having this massive, looming presence in my house made me want to escape every single second. After work, I dragged my best friend, Chloe, to a bar, engaging in my usual routine of aggressively complaining about Ethan: “It was bad enough when he used my parents’ vague instructions as an excuse to constantly check up on me, but now he actually moved in! “He makes breakfast every morning, and if I don’t eat it, he threatens to tell my parents! “No matter how late I get home, he’s always sitting there waiting for me, completely destroying his own legendary biological clock! “He reorganizes all my stuff until it’s perfectly neat, and he even does my laundry…” Chloe stayed silent for a moment, her expression incredibly complex. “Are you actually complaining… or are you flirting and bragging?” “Pfft!” I spit my drink out halfway across the table. “Do you honestly think I would ever flirt with Ethan or brag about him to anyone?” As my best friend since middle school, Chloe had a front-row seat to the entire history of my mutual hatred with Ethan. Sure enough, after a second of deep thought, she decisively changed her tune. “Definitely complaining.” I patted her head in relief. “Good girl.” “But abnormal behavior usually means something is wrong.” Chloe’s face turned serious, offering a subtle warning. “A guy like him, pushing thirty and still single? He probably has some hidden, unspeakable issue.” I caught on immediately. “You mean he’s impotent? And to get revenge on me, he decided to legally bind himself to me so I can never experience the joys of womanhood and spend the rest of my life in misery?!” Chloe: “…” Okay, maybe it wasn’t that diabolical. But either way, Ethan was definitely up to no good. I had to be extremely careful. But after brainstorming with Chloe for half the night and downing a few bottles, we hadn’t come up with a single solid plan. As we walked out into the cool night air, just as I was about to call a designated driver, a guy in a crisp white dress shirt walked up to me. He bowed slightly, offering a respectful, gentle smile. “Ms. Harrison.” It was the guy we saw inside the bar earlier; Chloe had bought him a drink. I gave him a brief nod and looked away. But he didn’t seem inclined to leave. He smiled and asked, “Are you heading home, Ms. Harrison? Would you like me to drive you?” I narrowed my eyes and looked at him again. He met my gaze steadily, neither overly eager nor overly subservient, a warm smile on his handsome face. He was actually kind of interesting. I curled my lips into a meaningful smile. “I already have someone waiting for me at home.” “Ms. Harrison.” He stepped a little closer, a clean, woodsy cologne washing over me. “You’re joking. Everyone in the circle knows Arthur left for City Z a long time ago.” Arthur, my ex-boyfriend. When I made that post on social media, I didn’t block anyone except my family. Everyone knew exactly who it was meant for. But Arthur took the earliest flight to City Z the very next day and still hadn’t returned. To outsiders, there were only two possibilities: either Arthur didn’t want to date me anymore and ran as far away as possible, or Arthur offended me and I banished him. Regardless of which one it was, it pointed to one undeniable fact: Arthur and I were completely, unequivocally over. “What? Do you think I can’t live without Arthur?” I asked lazily. He panicked for a second and quickly explained, “That’s not what I meant, I just…” “Forget it.” I tossed him my car keys. “Drive me home.” Objectively speaking, this young, handsome guy was exactly my type. Unfortunately, I already had the ancient relic known as Ethan waiting at home, so I probably wouldn’t be able to enjoy this beautiful encounter. But deep down, I still harbored a tiny, delusional sliver of hope. Like maybe Ethan had a sudden crisis of conscience and moved out, or maybe he got caught up with work and didn’t come home. That tiny sliver of hope was brutally shattered the second I opened the front door and saw Ethan sitting there like an NPC at a fixed spawn point. “Mia.” The permanent frown line between his eyebrows deepened significantly when he saw the man behind me. “Who is he?” The guy who drove me home clearly didn’t expect to actually find another man in my apartment. Faced with Ethan’s interrogation, he didn’t back down in the slightest. Instead, he tilted his head and smiled at me. “Ms. Harrison, the guy you have at home seems to have a much worse temper than the last one.” Ethan’s face instantly turned ash gray with rage, his clenched fists cracking audibly. “That’s enough.” I pulled a stack of cash from my bag and stuffed it into the handsome guy’s pocket. “You can head back now.” “Okay.” He obediently handed me a business card. “Whenever you want to see me, I’m always available.” “Mia.” Ethan watched him walk out the door with freezing eyes, then turned to me. “Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” “What is there to explain?” I brushed it off. He suppressed his rage, his voice dropping incredibly low. “Don’t forget, you are a taken woman now.” A taken woman? What century was that dusty old phrase from? Ethan’s dedication to this ‘boyfriend’ roleplay completely exceeded my expectations. I just found it absurd. “Ethan, stop acting stupid. We are fundamentally incompatible. “We weren’t compatible in the past, we aren’t compatible now, and we will never be compatible in the future.” “And you’re compatible with him?!” Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed my shoulders tightly, his voice rising in agitation. His grip was so strong I felt like he was going to crush my bones. The alcohol coursing through my system, combined with the physical pain, made me incredibly irritable. My days of forced patience had finally reached their absolute limit. I violently shoved his hands off me and snapped coldly, “Ethan, that is enough! “If you want to play the role of my boyfriend so badly, then listen closely. “This is who I am. If you want to stay by my side, you have to endure it. If you can’t endure it, then get the hell out!” The air in the room instantly froze. The hands I had slapped away hung uselessly at his sides. Ethan lowered his head, his expression unreadable. He looked profoundly lonely. Like I had committed some unforgivable, catastrophic betrayal against him. For some inexplicable reason, my heart gave a painful twinge, but I quickly suppressed it, walking past him toward my room. 5 In the middle of the night, I woke up with a parched throat to find a glass of warm water sitting on my nightstand. I didn’t need to guess who put it there. I sighed, remembering the harsh words I threw at Ethan earlier, feeling a sudden surge of guilt. The light under the other bedroom door was still on; the occupant apparently hadn’t slept yet. I walked up to Ethan’s door, debating whether to knock and apologize. Just as I finally made up my mind, with a sharp click, the light under the door vanished completely. Me: “…” Why is he so petty? Early the next morning, two portions of breakfast were laid out on the dining table as usual. But Ethan sat down straight away, not bothering to urge me to eat like he usually did. “Ethan.” I sat across from him. He kept his eyes lowered, eating his oatmeal, completely ignoring my existence. “I drank too much last night, and I said some things I shouldn’t have.” I said sincerely, “I’m sorry.” It took a very long time before Ethan finally gave a noncommittal “Mm.” Ethan rarely got truly angry, and when he did, it was impossible to read him. It wasn’t until I gasped from burning my tongue on the hot oatmeal, and he wordlessly slid a glass of water toward me along with his familiar, nagging scolding, that I knew he wasn’t really mad anymore. I had a meeting scheduled today, followed by a business dinner. Knowing it would run late, and assuming Ethan would wait for me again, I called him. “I’m having dinner with a client tonight, so I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.” A manager I was close with happened to walk by, winking at me playfully. “Ms. Harrison, reporting in to the man at home?” What? Reporting in?! And besides, even if I was reporting to someone, it definitely wouldn’t be Ethan! The phone in my hand suddenly felt like burning coal, but I couldn’t take back what I’d already said. Ethan just said “Mm,” sounding like he wanted to add something. I hung up quickly before he could. “I have to get back to work. Gotta go, bye!” Since I had given Ethan a heads-up, when Chloe asked me out after dinner, I agreed immediately. To avoid waking Ethan up, I intentionally stayed out until nearly midnight, waiting until he was definitely asleep before going home. The living room lights were blazing, and a certain someone who was supposed to be sleeping was sitting perfectly upright on the sofa. “Why are you only getting back now?” “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” We both spoke at the exact same time. Ethan sniffed the air. “Did you drink?” I instinctively rubbed my nose. “Didn’t I tell you I had a business dinner tonight?” Ethan called my bluff with a deadpan expression. “You never drink at business dinners.” “Chloe asked me out after dinner.” I sheepishly admitted the rest. Ethan remained noncommittal. “Did you go see that guy from yesterday?” “No.” I had no idea where the business card from yesterday even went, and I definitely wasn’t going to ask Chloe for his contact info. He was just a guy; he wasn’t worth the effort. Ethan walked over to me, leaning in close, as if trying to determine if I was lying. I thought he was going to grab my shoulders and interrogate me again, so I took a step back. Ethan’s hand slid down my arm, taking the bag I was holding, and hung it on the coat rack. Huh? What kind of opening is this? Ethan clearly had no intention of explaining my surprise. He turned and walked into the kitchen. His tall silhouette in the kitchen, bathed in the warm, soft glow of the lights, looked completely devoid of its usual coldness. It was an incredibly cozy, heart-fluttering scene—if the person in it wasn’t Ethan. “Here.” Ethan quickly returned with a glass of warm honey-lemon water and handed it to me. In a flash, I remembered the conspiracy theories Chloe and I had brainstormed about him. Honestly, if this version of Ethan asked me to hand over my entire multi-billion dollar inheritance, I feel like I’d do it without hesitation. Lust destroys the mind, Mia, I gritted my teeth, furious at my own weakness. Ethan’s massive personality shift felt like he’d been possessed. Not only did he stop giving me endless, unsolicited lectures, but he also single-handedly took over all my daily needs and chores. Admittedly, as an enemy locked in constant conflict, Ethan could infuriate me to the point of a stroke. But as a friend trying to bury the hatchet, he took care of me flawlessly. In a few fleeting moments, I even started to feel like we were an actual, genuine couple. While alarm bells blared in my head, another part of me just wanted to sink into this comfortable illusion for a little while longer. The person most affected by this shift was undeniably Chloe. “Mia Harrison, oh, Mia Harrison.” She pointed an accusing finger at me. “You have completely fallen from grace! You wake up at 7 AM, go to bed by 10 PM, and you won’t even drink with me anymore!” “Even Cinderella got to stay out until midnight! How is Professor Vance stricter than a literal fairy godmother?!” It wasn’t that Ethan was psychotically controlling my bedtime. It was just that staying out late partying, only to come home to a silent Ethan serving me tea and water, made me feel incredibly guilty. It felt like I was a terrible, neglectful partner leaving my devoted, suffering spouse at home while I went out seeking cheap thrills. Obviously, I wasn’t going to say that to Chloe. I offered an apologetic smile. “I promise I’ll stay out as late as you want tonight!” She snorted, finally looking somewhat appeased. “Oh, by the way,” Chloe said, “Are you going to the alumni mixer tomorrow?” I wasn’t busy, so I agreed. “Yeah.” Chloe teased, “Then you better make sure Professor Vance prepares a pumpkin carriage that doesn’t turn back into a pumpkin until at least midnight! 10 PM is way too early.” Me: “…”

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My young uncle brought his boyfriend home for the holidays. He claimed it was to act as a human shield against the family’s relentless marriage-pressure crossfire. I stared at his boyfriend’s handsome, incredibly familiar face and cheekily demanded hush money: “Boss, you wouldn’t want the whole company finding out you’re the bottom in a relationship, would you?” Before he could answer, my relatives, having collectively recovered from near-fainting, immediately redirected their marriage-pressure crossfire onto me. Unable to withstand the barrage, I grabbed the “boyfriend” and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. “Actually, he’s not my uncle’s boyfriend. He’s mine.” My “uncle’s boyfriend” pulled me close and laid a deep, French kiss on me. “That’s right. The three of us living happily ever after is the most important thing.” 1 As soon as he said that, the previously lively dining room went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. My relatives, who had just managed to process the news of my uncle being gay, collectively reached for their smelling salts again. “Wait… you guys…” “You young people… are really playing wild these days…” “Is this a throuple situation, or is it a messed up family drama?!” The younger cousins at the table started hooting and hollering all at once. And I was still in a state of absolute shock, unable to process what just happened— Did Ezra just use his tongue?! Isn’t he my uncle’s man?! Why the hell did a bottom kiss me?! That was my first kiss! Is he insane?! The more I thought about it, the madder I got. I slammed my chopsticks down, ready to slap him. My raised wrist was caught swiftly and securely by Ezra, who smoothly brought it to his lips and kissed it. “Baby, stop making a scene.” “…Ezra! Have you lost your mind?!” A smile played on his lips, a sly gleam in his eyes: “Chloe, I already pretended to be your uncle’s boyfriend just like you asked. Are you still mad?” ??? 2 A room full of relatives stared at me, just as dumbfounded as I was. My college-freshman cousin, Lily, suddenly slapped her thigh: “Ah! I get it now! Ezra and Chloe are the real couple. “They got into a fight, so Chloe punished Ezra by making him pretend to be Uncle Arthur’s boyfriend!” After announcing this, she crossed her arms and stroked her chin, nodding emphatically. Looking entirely too pleased with herself for “seeing through it all.” Me: “With a theory that ridiculous, have you been reading too much Wattpad?” Lily scratched her head sheepishly. Ezra pulled a thick red envelope of cash from his pocket and handed it to Lily: “Well said. Keep saying things like that.” Lily happily snatched the envelope, immediately showering Ezra with New Year’s blessings: “Thank you, brother-in-law! Wishing you a prosperous new year and an early baby with my cousin!” Me: “You were literally just calling him ‘uncle’.” Lily shot an awkward glance at my uncle. “Ah, well…” Me: “Uncle Arthur, control your wife!” My uncle set down his wine glass, smiling like a sly fox: “Nephew-in-law, where’s my red envelope?” 3 Ezra was my boss. At the company, he was the quintessential, untouchable, suit-and-tie “ice king.” When he walked through the door behind my uncle earlier, I stared blankly for a solid minute. I thought to myself, This incredibly handsome boss of mine is actually a bottom? Ah, I guess all the hot guys really are getting snatched up by other hot guys. I hadn’t even had the chance to share this explosive gossip with my girlfriends. How did he suddenly become my boyfriend?! Thank God my grandparents are healthy and don’t have high blood pressure. Otherwise, how could they possibly handle all these wild plot twists? My dad slammed his chopsticks down, looking dead serious as he called my uncle out by his full name: “Arthur Vance, what is going on? Explain.” Using his full name meant my dad was genuinely furious. My uncle scratched his head and spouted absolute nonsense with a completely straight face: “Well, you guys were pressuring me so hard to get married, I just asked a friend to help me put on a show…” My grandpa snorted: “You unfilial brat! Nothing but nonsense!” My uncle shrank his neck and raised his hands in surrender: “I was wrong, I was wrong. It was just a joke…” My grandma: “It’s not funny, you idiot. Look at your niece, she already found a boyfriend, and you still can’t find one!” My Aunt Mary smiled, trying to smooth things over: “So this Ezra really is Chloe’s boyfriend?” Just as I was about to deny it, Ezra leaned in and whispered in my ear: “Chloe, you wouldn’t want the whole family knowing you’re still single, would you?” Uh. True. The marriage-pressure crossfire from my relatives was coming in waves, each stronger than the last. I definitely couldn’t handle it alone. So, I linked my arm through Ezra’s and leaned affectionately against his shoulder like a little bird: “Ah, yeah, yeah. Ezra is my boyfriend. “The three of us were just messing around.” My grandma still wasn’t entirely convinced. She asked: “Arthur, do you actually like men or women?” My uncle nearly choked on his wine: “Mom, I’m as straight as an arrow.” Then he shot Ezra a resentful glare: “To help you pick up a girl, my reputation is completely ruined. I demand extra compensation.” Ezra smiled pleasantly: “No problem, no problem at all.” ? Extra compensation? Picking up a girl? Why did I feel like I just got sold out? I sat up straight and stared at Ezra. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ezra stared back, looking completely exasperated: “Am I not being obvious enough, or are you really just this dense?” My uncle: “Is that even a question? Of course it’s because Chloe is incredibly dense.” My grandma spat at my uncle: “You have the nerve to criticize Chloe? When are you going to find someone?” 4 My uncle was summoned to the elders’ table to receive his baptism of marriage pressure. Our table was full of the younger generation, eating, drinking, and having a great time. Ezra leaned in close and murmured: “Hey, you just admitted in front of everyone that I’m your boyfriend. Come home with me tomorrow to meet my family.” Um, excuse me, you can speak normally. Why are you leaning in so close, using that low, raspy voice? Who are you trying to seduce? I coughed lightly to steady my nerves: “I was just playing along with your script back there. It was a tactical move to dodge the marriage pressure. “What boyfriend? You’re my boss. I would never dare have any inappropriate thoughts about you.” “Oh, then just play along with me for a bit. I don’t want to deal with marriage pressure either.” “Logically, since you helped me out, I should help you. But tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, I have to visit my grandma. The day after is New Year’s Day, I have to go back to my hometown to visit the graves. The day after that…” I counted my schedule off on my fingers. A check was suddenly slid right in front of my face. “Come home with me, and this money is yours.” “Mr. Sterling, this is highly inappropriate. Are you trying to test my integrity with a bribe?” “You don’t want it? Then I’ll ask your cousin.” My cousin Lily, who was busy gnawing on a chicken leg, instantly dropped it. “No need to ask, no need to ask! Yes, yes, yes, I can do it, honey!” How are her ears so sharp?! Ezra and I were speaking so quietly! Lily wiped her hands and snatched the check. “One, two, three, four… “Good lord! Four zeros! Five figures! “Honey, you’re so generous!” I snatched the check back out of her hand. “What ‘honey’? You were just calling him brother-in-law.” Lily pouted, looking at me pitifully. “Sis, if you don’t want to make this money, I do…” “Get out of here! Who said I didn’t want to make it? I was just taking the opportunity to negotiate the price. Stop messing up the market.” Hmph. Then let Ezra choose! Let’s see if he picks you or me! “Ezra! I’m super well-behaved, and I’m a great sweet-talker! I guarantee I’ll make our mom and dad incredibly happy!” Ezra pushed his glasses up his nose, completely unable to hide his smile. “My dad has high blood sugar. You’re a little too sweet. I think I’ll stick with your sister.” Lily: “…” 5 And so, I ended up following Ezra home in a daze. I thought I was just going to help him put on a show to fool his parents. I didn’t realize Ezra had tricked me into walking straight into a battlefield— Waiting for him at home were not only his parents but also an incredibly beautiful, wealthy heiress. A perfect match, an arranged family alliance, but someone Ezra had no interest in. “So you’re using me as a meat shield?” I asked. Ezra gave a wicked smile: “Pretty much, but not entirely.” The wealthy heiress tilted her chin up, looking down her nose at me: “So you’re Ezra’s woman? “You’re very… ordinary.” Me: “…” Okay, fine. If you want a catfight, you’ve got one. My competitive spirit flared up. I wrapped my arm around Ezra’s neck, stood on my tiptoes, and whispered in his ear. “I can be your meat shield, but I demand extra compensation.” 6 “Oh my, what a gorgeous girl!” Ezra’s mother hurried over, taking my hand and looking me up and down with a bright smile. She was dressed very fashionably and looked incredibly well-maintained; you couldn’t tell her age at all. “Hello, Mrs. Sterling. My name is Chloe Vance.” I greeted her politely. “Good, good, good. I’ve heard Ezra mention you so often, I finally get to meet you.” “Mention me often?” I looked at Ezra in confusion. Weren’t we just pretending so he could dodge his parents’ nagging? Why would he mention me to them before this? Ezra cleared his throat: “Yeah, I occasionally chat with my parents about my coworkers.” Oh, I see. But didn’t Ezra’s mom arrange this blind date for him? According to all the romance novels I’ve read, shouldn’t she be acting like a haughty, aristocratic mother-in-law, giving me the cold shoulder and trying to intimidate me? Why was she being so warm and welcoming? Mrs. Sterling pulled me along: “Come on, let me introduce you to the relatives.” Okay, here comes the scariest part. I turned my head, scrunching up my face to silently plead with Ezra for help: “Ezra, come with me!” He stood there with his hands in his pockets, a slight smirk on his lips: “No, I need to personally cook a dish.” “Then, then I…” “Don’t be nervous. Every ugly duckling eventually has to meet the in-laws. Plus, my Chloe is so beautiful.” Me: “…” The wealthy heiress chimed in: “Every year for New Year’s Eve dinner, Ezra personally cooks two dishes. It’s a family tradition. “Since you’re new here, it’s normal you wouldn’t know.” The underlying message: She’s the master of the house, and I’m just a guest. Even though the smell of gunpowder was heavy in the air, I didn’t care at the moment. I only had one thought in my head— If Ezra wasn’t going to help me socialize, I was taking the wealthy heiress down with me. It’d be better if she shared some of the crossfire from the aunts and grandmas. “Mrs. Sterling, maybe this young lady should join us? The more the merrier.” “Sure, sure. Mia, you don’t need to go help in the kitchen. Come on, chat with us.” After saying that, she leaned in close and whispered so only I could hear: “Don’t misunderstand, Chloe. There’s absolutely nothing going on between Ezra and Mia.” “Then Ms. Mia is…” “Sigh, she’s the daughter of our neighbor, Mr. Davis. She’s had a crush on Ezra for years. “It’s the holidays. She came over to visit, I can’t exactly kick her out, can I?” Ah, so that’s how it is. 7 The living room was massive. Two mahjong tables were set up by the window, with a dozen or so people gathered around, some sitting, some standing. There weren’t many people sitting on the sofas chatting and eating fruit. Mrs. Sterling pulled me over to the main seat on the sofa, introducing me with a beaming smile: “Our Ezra finally brought someone home this year! Hahaha.” “Oh my, what a pretty girl. Mary, you’re so lucky.” “I’m not the lucky one! Ezra is the lucky one.” The older relatives were all talking over each other. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, so I just sat there smiling awkwardly. An older woman in a red dress sitting to my left, cracking sunflower seeds, asked me: “Chloe, how old are you this year? How did you meet our Ezra? “Where are you from? Did you just get a Bachelor’s, or a Master’s? What college did you graduate from? “Are your parents retired? Do you have any siblings?” … Good lord. This woman was clearly a pro. She came right out the gate treating it like an interrogation. Her firepower was way more intense than my own relatives’. I didn’t want to answer her questions, but staying silent seemed rude. While I was agonizing over what to do, Mrs. Sterling came to my rescue. “Sarah, what are you doing? Asking so many questions, you’re going to scare the poor girl.” The woman in the red dress, Sarah, laughed heartily while continuing to crack sunflower seeds: “Oh, I’m just excited! Seeing such a fresh, pretty girl, I couldn’t help but ask a few extra questions! Hahaha. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. I’m just asking casually, you don’t have to answer! Hahaha.” Her words made all the elders in the room burst into laughter. My tense nerves relaxed a little. I thought to myself that the atmosphere in Ezra’s family was actually quite nice. Mia suddenly spoke up: “Aunt Sarah, let me answer for her. “Her name is Chloe Vance. She’s an employee at Ezra’s company. Graduated from a normal state college. Her parents are just normal people. Her family background is totally average.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, over and over: “Unlike me. I have a Master’s degree from overseas, my family owns a corporation, and I grew up with Ezra.” Oh my god, why don’t you just explicitly say I’m unworthy and you’re the perfect match? The elders in the room had seen it all before. They obviously knew exactly what was going on. They exchanged knowing glances and kept cracking sunflower seeds in silence. 8 I had no intention of engaging in a catfight. But since I took Ezra’s money, I might as well go to war with this “green tea” bitch. So I cleared my throat, pitching my voice slightly higher: “Oh, you’re absolutely right! It was just a normal state college… though it is ranked in the top ten nationally. “I hear the disparity in study-abroad programs is huge right now. The good ones are really good, but the fake ones… you just pay a fee and they give you a degree. “I wonder which foreign university Ms. Mia attended? Was it an Ivy League? What was its global ranking?” I looked at her with an expression of pure, unadulterated “sincerity.” Mia’s lips moved, but she couldn’t say a word. I figured she probably hadn’t gone to a particularly prestigious school. A girl with a top-tier education couldn’t possibly be this stupid. I continued: “As for family background, Ms. Mia’s family owns a corporation, right? “What a coincidence! My mom works for the IRS. You’ve heard of the new, massive tax enforcement initiative, right? “My mom is actually heading the implementation for this entire district. How about I have her bring a team over to ‘guide’ your family’s company sometime?” I could tell the aunties cracking seeds were internally screaming with excitement, barely able to contain themselves. But they maintained their composure perfectly, continuing to crack seeds in silence, waiting to see how Mia would handle this. Mia’s face turned bright red, and she stammered: “N-no need. My family has always… always paid our taxes on time. We never… never…” Seeing that she couldn’t even form a complete sentence, I had no desire to make the situation any uglier. I smiled: “Paying taxes is a badge of honor! Keep up the good work!” Mrs. Sterling patted my hand: “What a clever girl.” Aunt Sarah laughed, smoothing things over: “Sigh, look at the silly questions I was asking. “Times have changed. It’s not like when we were young. “Family background, status, schools, jobs… none of that is important. The most important thing is that Ezra likes her.” Mrs. Sterling agreed: “Exactly, exactly. As long as Ezra likes her.” The other aunties chimed in with smiles, shifting the conversation to normal family gossip. The atmosphere returned to being warm and harmonious. I grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds, raised an eyebrow at Mia, and mouthed silently: “That’s it? I thought you were actually going to be a challenge.”

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Five years. That’s how long I’ve been pining for my icy, untouchable adoptive brother. Five years of starving for a man who looked at me like I was a budget report he couldn’t quite balance. Finally, I snapped. I didn’t just snap; I went nuclear. I slipped a heavy sedative into his drink, waited for him to go down, and then—feeling dangerously bold—I climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. Just as I was about to savor my victory, a flurry of translucent text started scrolling across my vision, like a frantic livestream chat: [Girlie, you are literally signing your own death warrant. You think he’s some celibate saint? This man is a high-functioning sociopath with severe touch-starvation and a literal addiction to the bedroom. Run!] [I’m telling you, stop acting. You look like a strawberry cupcake—sweet, soft, and totally out of your league. The real monster is lying right under you, just biding his time.] [It’s over. I can’t even imagine what he’s going to do to her once the meds wear off. RIP to her spine.] I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. Before I could process the “glitch” in my reality, the man beneath me stirred. His long lashes fluttered, and his eyes snapped open. 1 Bennett’s eyes—dark, bottomless, and terrifyingly sharp—locked onto mine. I’d already stripped him to the waist. He was lying there in nothing but a pair of charcoal-grey lounge pants. I had to give it to him: his physique was top-tier. Broad shoulders, lean muscle that looked like it had been carved from marble, and a core so defined it felt like iron under my thighs. His brow was furrowed, a storm brewing in his expression. Even with his wrists handcuffed to the headboard, he radiated the kind of suffocating authority that usually made me want to hide in the basement. His voice was a lethal frost. “Sadie. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Old habits die hard. Having been under his thumb for a decade, I instinctively flinched. But then I remembered the “spoiler” from those strange floating words. I forced myself to smirk, leaning in close. “Can’t you tell? I’m finally taking what I want. I’m sleeping with you.” The catalyst for my madness had happened a few days ago. He’d been trending for twenty-four hours with that A-list starlet, Mia Rossi. Papparazzi had caught her entering the Foster Group headquarters multiple times. There were even rumors that Bennett had dropped nine figures on a rare pink diamond just to make her smile. That same night, Mia had tweeted: My favorite color? Pink, obviously. I had stared at that tweet until my vision blurred, then smashed my phone against the wall. I went straight to the liquor cabinet, picked the strongest bottle, and spiked it with enough sedative to put down a grizzly bear. Then I’d dragged him to bed, stripped him, and locked him down. One smooth motion. I was going to wait for him to wake up and give him an ultimatum: Marry me, or I make sure there’s no turning back from tonight. But I never expected to find out—via some cosmic hallucination—that Bennett might actually want me back. A massive surge of adrenaline, bright as a firework, exploded in my chest. I shifted, grinding slightly against his hips, and leaned down to nip at his prominent Adam’s apple. I felt a surge of intoxicating power. “Come on, Ben. You’ve been wanting this for a long time too, haven’t you?” As I leaned over him, the hem of my wine-red lace nightgown rode up, exposing my thighs. If the “feed” was right, my brother was a man with a very specific, very repressed hunger. And here I was, offering myself up on a silver platter. I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning, and whispered in his ear, “Maybe I should give you an heir, Ben. Think about it. Would the kid call you ‘Daddy’ or ‘Uncle’?” 2 Bennett’s face went from icy to thunderous in a heartbeat. He looked at me with the same sharp, disciplinary gaze he used when I was ten and failed my math tests. “Sadie! What kind of garbage is filling that head of yours?” he barked. “Say one more word like that and I swear I’ll break your legs.” He yanked at the handcuffs, the metal clinking violently against the frame. “Get off me. Now.” The shout made me jump. My instinct was to obey, to scramble off the bed and apologize. I started to slide down, pouting. “Fine, fine. So grumpy. Let’s see how much you’re yelling when that ‘hunger’ hits you.” My eyes drifted down, following the lines of his chest, past the eight-pack, and further down… I squinted, waiting for the inevitable sign of his “addiction.” Nothing. The grey lounge pants remained frustratingly flat. No “salute,” no reaction. I rubbed my eyes, baffled. “This isn’t scientifically possible!” Bennett let out a cold, mocking laugh. “You’re my sister, Sadie. What kind of reaction did you expect? Unlock these cuffs. Don’t make me ask a third time.” He sounded so much like the stern guardian who had raised me that my confidence began to crumble. Was the “feed” lying to me? Just then, the text flickered back into existence: [Girlie, don’t believe him! The old fox took a heavy-duty suppressant this morning. He’s literally forcing himself to be ‘out of order’ right now!] [Exactly. Think about it—living under the same roof as a girl who looks like a literal angel, smelling her vanilla perfume every day… with his ‘condition,’ he’d have devoured her years ago if he didn’t have a moral compass made of titanium.] [He’s the ultimate ‘tragic villain’ trope. He’d rather make himself ‘incapable’ than touch his sister. It’s honestly kind of hot.] [+1. This slow burn is killing me. Don’t worry, Sadie—that suppressant only lasts seventy-two hours. Once it wears off, he’s going to be a weapon of mass destruction.] I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I looked back at my brother, my smirk returning, wider than ever. “Oh, Ben. You’re the one in the cage, not me. Stop trying to play the big, bad CEO.” “Sit tight and be a good little captive. If you keep me happy, maybe I’ll let you go by the weekend.” 3 Day two of Bennett’s “captivity.” As the head of Foster Group, he couldn’t just vanish without the world ending. I played the part of the dutiful captor—I dressed him in a crisp white shirt, tied his silk tie, and even set up his laptop for a high-level board meeting via Zoom. Of course, he was still in his lounge pants below the camera’s view, and his wrists were still tethered to the bedpost. I leaned in, just out of the camera’s range, and whispered a warning: “Don’t you dare mention being kidnapped, Ben. You wouldn’t want the whole world to know that the formidable Mr. Foster is his sister’s little pet, would you?” Bennett’s expression was so dark it could have curdled milk. But, as I expected, he was a professional. He sat through the entire hour-long meeting with a stone-cold face, never breathing a word about his predicament. Day three. I stripped the elite suit off him again, leaving him bare-chested. I even looped a decorative body chain over his shoulders—it looked devastatingly erotic on his tan skin. I set up my easel and gave him a foxy little grin. “My oil painting class needs a model, Ben. And honestly, your physique puts those professional models to shame. Just consider this your contribution to the arts.” Bennett turned his head away, jaw clenched, refusing to utter a single word. By day four, my resolve was starting to waver. I whispered to the “voices” in my head: You guys said he likes me! It’s been four days and he still looks like he wants to file a restraining order! The response was instant: [That’s because his self-control is legendary! If you hadn’t moved first, he would have locked YOU up in about six months. The guy is obsessed.] [In the original story, he has a safe in his study filled with ‘toys’ and ‘special equipment’ all labeled with your name. He’s a total deviant under that suit.] My eyes widened. I bolted for the study and cracked the safe—I’d known the combination for years (it was my birthday). The door swung open. There were no toys. No deviant equipment. Instead, there was a will and a series of trust fund documents. The papers stated in black and white: Upon Sadie Foster’s 21st birthday, 5% of Foster Group shares will be transferred to her annually. In the event of Bennett Foster’s death or incapacitation, Sadie Foster is to inherit the entirety of the estate and controlling interest of the company. I stood there, the papers trembling in my hand, feeling like I’d been hit by a freight train. A wave of crushing guilt washed over me. Bennett wasn’t my biological brother, but he had given me everything. He was the one who had pulled me out of that terrifying foster-care situation when I was seven. I had clung to him then, begging my parents to keep him. When our parents died in that tragic accident two years later, leaving us with nothing but debt, fifteen-year-old Bennett had grabbed my hand at the funeral. “Don’t be scared, Sadie,” he’d said, his voice cracking but firm. “I’ve got you. I’ll always take care of you.” And he had. He was a man of his word. He’d worked three jobs while getting his PhD, built a tech empire from the ground up by twenty-five, and protected me from every predatory relative who tried to cash in on us. He’d even come home with bruises once because he’d taken a job at an underground gym just to buy me the designer dress I wanted for prom. And how did I repay him? By drugging him and humiliating him for my own selfish crush. My throat tightened. I ran back to the bedroom, tears blurring my vision. “Ben… Ben, I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.” Bennett looked up, his eyes weary. “What’s the new game, Sadie?” He looked thinner. He hadn’t eaten much in three days. Seeing him like this broke something inside me. I wiped my face, pulled the key from my pocket, and sobbed, “I’m sorry. I’m letting you go. Right now.” Suddenly, the “feed” went absolutely ballistic: [OH MY GOD! STOP! I just remembered—the suppressant only lasts 72 hours!] [TODAY IS DAY FOUR! IT’S OVER! THE DRUG IS OUT OF HIS SYSTEM!] [SADIE, DON’T DO IT! DO NOT UNLOCK THOSE CUFFS! He’s been repressing a decade of lust and three days of pure rage—he’s a powder keg!] [He is going to ruin you! You won’t be able to walk for a week! ABORT MISSION!] At the same time, Bennett’s calm demeanor vanished. His face flushed, and his voice dropped to a low, dangerous register. “Sadie… wait. Don’t touch that lock yet.” But I was too fast. I’d already slid the key in. Click. The cuffs fell away.

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My boyfriend just spent three months backpacking across Europe with the woman of his dreams—the one who got away. Now, he’s back, staring at my slightly rounded stomach with a look of pure, unadulterated rage. “Who the hell did you sleep with, Piper?” Harrison barked, his voice echoing through the penthouse. I didn’t answer. Instead, I let my gaze flicker toward his best friend, Hudson Wilde, who was standing by the bar, nursing a drink and watching the drama unfold. Harrison froze. Then, without a word, he swung. His fist connected with Hudson’s jaw, the sound sickeningly wet. Hudson, who had been enjoying the show a second ago, stumbled back, stunned. He wiped a streak of blood from his lip, and before Harrison could pivot, he lunged back. He landed a clean hook right across Harrison’s nose. “Are you out of your mind? I never touched her!” Hudson roared. They went at it, blow for blow, a messy, expensive brawl on the designer rug. I watched them for a moment, completely unfazed, and then quietly slipped out of the lounge. Once I was safely in the hallway, I gave my stomach a firm pat. The “bump” flattened instantly. Who said I was pregnant? I just overdid it at the all-you-can-eat pasta bar for dinner. 1 To avoid the inevitable barrage of frantic calls, I blocked both Harrison and Hudson on my way home. I retreated to my apartment and sank into a lukewarm bath, trying to wash off the scent of Harrison’s expensive cologne and his even more expensive betrayal. I was just drifting into a half-sleep when my phone buzzed on the tile floor. A message from an unknown number lit up the screen: Open the door in sixty seconds, or I’m breaking it down. I mean it. Harrison was the type to act without speaking, but this had Hudson’s signature all over it. Hudson was petty, vindictive, and never let a grudge go cold. I knew he’d come looking for me to settle the score for that punch, I just didn’t expect him to be this fast. Knowing him, the “breaking down the door” part wasn’t an exaggeration. I folded. I’m in the bath. Give me five minutes. Hudson replied instantly: Fine. Five minutes. Clock is ticking. I didn’t dare linger. I scrambled out of the tub, rinsed off the bubbles, and threw on a silk slip dress—the first thing I grabbed. When I swung the door open, Hudson was standing there, chest heaving, looking ready to burn the building down. But the moment his eyes hit my bare shoulders and the damp silk clinging to my skin, he went rigid. “Could you maybe put some actual clothes on?” he snapped, his ears turning a frantic shade of pink. I gave him a look of feigned innocence. “I was getting ready for bed. Is there a dress code for my own apartment?” Hudson choked on his next words, then pivoted. “Why did you tell Harrison I was the one who knocked you up?” “Wasn’t it you?” I countered, leaning against the doorframe. Out of all Harrison’s friends, Hudson and I were the ones who hated each other most. It was a simple dynamic: I loathed his sharp tongue and elitist attitude; he loathed my “social climber” persona. For the three months Harrison was away with Isabella—his “Golden Girl,” his untouchable muse—Hudson had hovered over me like a vulture. He claimed he was just making sure I didn’t embarrass his best friend by sleeping around, but he was a constant, suffocating shadow. If he hadn’t made my life such a misery, I wouldn’t have turned to emotional eating as a coping mechanism. Every meal for ninety days had been a twelve-course feast of spite. Hudson looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. “I haven’t so much as brushed a finger against you, Piper. How the hell could I get you pregnant? Was it immaculate conception?” I smiled, saying nothing. I stepped closer, looping my arms around his neck, my breath ghosting over his skin. “Well, you’re touching me now, aren’t you?” Hudson froze. Then, as if he’d been scorched by a hot iron, he practically leaped back, shoving my hands away. “What is wrong with you?” I watched the flush creep from his neck to his forehead and laughed. “I’m just giving you what you wanted, Hudson. Attention.” “You… you are absolutely shameless!” He was stammering now, his usual cool composure shattered. “You’ve told me that a thousand times,” I said, checking my nails. “Get a new line.” He ground his teeth, muttered something about not wasting his time on a “lost cause,” and turned to leave. But he only made it three steps down the hall before he spun back around. I arched an eyebrow. “Change your mind, Hudson?” He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Are you really… is there really a baby?” “Don’t you have eyes?” I pushed my stomach out again, holding my breath to mimic the bloat. Hudson glanced down, his face darkening. “You’re dead, Piper. Harrison might let a lot of things slide, but if you actually cheated on him? He’ll ruin your family. You’ll be lucky if you’re not out on the street by morning.” I didn’t flinch. I reached out and toyed with the collar of his jacket. “Then why don’t you help me?” In terms of net worth, the Wilde family was on par with the Montgomerys. In terms of sheer political clout, they were actually a step above. Hudson let out a sharp, bitter laugh. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Why would I help you? You just framed me for an affair. I should be the one handing you the eviction notice.” “Because,” I said, my voice dropping to a shameless purr, “I know I’m special to you.” The laugh he let out this time was louder, incredulous. “What part of your delusional brain thinks you’re ‘special’ to me?” “You spent three months watching my every move,” I said simply. “Nobody stares that hard at something they don’t care about.” “I was watching you because I can’t stand you! I was looking for a reason to get rid of you!” “And yet,” I smiled, “you never looked away.” Hudson’s face went through three different shades of Pale. He looked like he wanted to scream. I decided to twist the knife, running my thumb over his bottom lip—a slow, provocative move. “Admit it, Hudson. You’re obsessed. You just haven’t realized it yet.” He turned a shade of red I didn’t think was biologically possible. He ripped my hand away, his voice trembling with fury. “Harrison is going to destroy you.” With that final threat, he practically fled toward the elevator. It wasn’t a walk; it was an escape. I leaned against the door, a cold smirk playing on my lips. Poor boy. 2 Hudson might be a hothead, but he was surprisingly sheltered when it came to women. He was an easy mark. However, he was right about one thing: Harrison Montgomery was not a man to be trifled with. And he certainly wasn’t the type to take a blow to his ego—or his “property”—lying down. Harrison was the heir to a multibillion-dollar empire. My family’s assets were essentially pocket change compared to his. If he decided to go nuclear, the West family would be vaporized within a week. But honestly? I didn’t care. My family consisted of a father who viewed me as a bargaining chip, a stepmother who hated my existence, and two half-siblings who took after her. They could lose everything for all I cared. My only real concern was that once Harrison threw me out, my father would try to sell me off to some ancient, lecherous business associate to cover his debts. But I’d cross that bridge when I burned it. I had barely closed the door for thirty seconds when the bell rang again. Thinking Hudson had come back for a round two of shouting, I yanked it open. Instead, I found myself staring into Harrison’s icy, shadowed eyes. Before I could even breathe out a sarcastic greeting, he grabbed my arm and shoved his way in, slamming me against the foyer wall. His hand clamped onto my jaw, his grip borderline painful. “Who was it, Piper? Tell me who you slept with.” Harrison was usually the embodiment of ‘old money’ restraint. Seeing him this unhinged was a rare thrill. I’d managed to break his mask twice in one day. I couldn’t shake him off, so I did the next best thing—I brought my heel down hard on his polished leather shoe. “None of your business,” I hissed. Harrison grunted in pain, his grip loosening just enough for me to duck under his arm and bolt for the living room. But he was faster. He caught me from behind, his arm wrapping around my waist like a steel band, and hauled me toward the bedroom. He threw me onto the bed and hovered over me, his shadow swallowing me whole. I stopped fighting. I just lay there, limp and indifferent. “Go ahead,” I said, my voice flat. “If you don’t mind the leftovers.” Harrison flinched as if I’d slapped him. His gaze dropped to my stomach, and the rage in his eyes flickered into something darker, something almost disgusted. He reached out and grabbed my throat—not to hurt, but to possess. “You have three days,” he spat, his voice low and dangerous. “Get rid of the brat. Do it, and maybe I’ll consider giving you a chance to explain yourself. If not… don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He let go of me as if I were something contaminated and stood up, straightening his cuffs. I sat up slowly, staring at him with cold clarity. “I think we should just end this, Harrison.” His hand paused on his tie. A flash of genuine shock crossed his face, followed quickly by a sneer of pure condescension. “You think you have the right to end this? You’re a placeholder, Piper. Nothing more.” “Isabella is single now,” I reminded him. “You don’t need a placeholder.” Harrison had been in love with Isabella for a decade. But Isabella had chosen his older brother. Six months ago, his brother died in a freak accident, leaving her a grieving widow. Three months ago, Harrison took her on that trip to “help her heal.” Marrying your brother’s widow was a bit of a scandal, even in their circles, but for a man like Harrison, it was just another acquisition. Harrison leaned over me one last time, his voice a chilling whisper. “Remember this, Piper: no one tells me what to do. This relationship ends when I decide I’m bored, and not a second before. You’re a smart girl. You know what happens to people who lose my protection.” My heart sank. He was right. In this world, I had no leverage. I was just a ghost inhabiting someone else’s life. 3 Three years ago, my father tried to marry me off to a sixty-year-old billionaire with a reputation for “unusual” tastes. I was desperate. I noticed that Harrison Montgomery looked at Isabella with a hunger that bordered on madness. Since Isabella and I shared a certain… aesthetic—the same high cheekbones, the same dark, wavy hair—I leaned into the resemblance. I mimicked her grace, her soft-spoken nature, her wardrobe. I seduced him on a night when he was drowning in whiskey and self-pity over Isabella’s engagement to his brother. He had been aggressive at first, but once he had me in bed, he stopped, as if realizing I was just a counterfeit. But he kept me anyway. For three years, I was his shadow-version of Isabella. We were “dating” in name, but everyone knew I was just a high-end mistress. Hudson, in particular, made sure I never forgot it. But the weirdest thing happened. Despite knowing I was just a stand-in, I actually started to care for him. Once, while he was drunk, he promised he’d marry me after his brother and Isabella were settled. I was naive enough to believe in “growing to love someone.” Then his brother died. And I knew the moment I heard the news that my time was up. Harrison would finally get the real thing. I’d been waiting for the axe to fall for months. When he told me he was taking her on a world tour, I expected the breakup. Instead, he told Hudson to “look after” me. And Hudson, the loyal dog, took it literally. He watched me so closely I couldn’t even go to a bar without him appearing like a vengeful spirit. I was so stressed and miserable that I ate my feelings, gained six pounds, and ended up being accused of carrying his best friend’s secret child. I was starting to think Hudson did this on purpose. That bastard. 4 Harrison gave me seventy-two hours to “fix” the problem. Since there was no problem to fix, I spent the time at home, lounging in my pajamas and ignoring the world. On the second night, a text came in from Hudson. Are you dead yet? Sometimes, when you hate someone enough, it starts to feel like a twisted kind of intimacy. I didn’t block him this time. Still here, unfortunately, I replied. Hudson: Shocking. I’m surprised Harrison didn’t kill you on the spot. Me: Don’t worry. Bitchy weeds never die. Hudson: True. You’ve always had a high survival instinct. There was a long pause. The “typing…” bubbles appeared and disappeared for nearly a minute. Hudson: What are you going to do about the kid? I blinked. He actually sounded concerned. The mischief in me bubbled up. The kid is innocent. I’m keeping it, obviously. Hudson: Are you insane? He’ll ruin you! Me: So let him. I have nothing left to lose anyway. My grandmother—the only person who ever truly loved me—was gone. I was just drifting. Hudson didn’t reply for a long time. Then: Who’s the father? Really? Me: Too many candidates to count. Hudson: Dammit, Piper! I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my sofa. Hudson knew he’d been watching me, but he wasn’t there 24/7. There was one night he’d been busy, and I’d gone to a club and ordered a round of male models just to spite him. He’d found me at dawn and dragged me out. He clearly thought that was the night. 5 By the third day, the walls were closing in. I went to a high-end hotel bar to lose myself in a few martinis. I was halfway through my third when Harrison’s security detail swarmed the booth. They didn’t ask; they just grabbed me, hauled me out to a waiting black SUV, and drove me straight to a private surgical clinic. When we arrived, Harrison was already there, standing in the sterile hallway like an avenging angel. Between the gin and the sheer exhaustion, my filter was gone. “Harrison! Are you so obsessed with your sister-in-law that you’ve lost your mind? This whole ‘substitute’ thing is pathetic. It’s sick!” Harrison didn’t yell. He just stepped forward, his hand like a vise on my jaw, forcing me to look up. “I’ll ask one last time. Whose is it?” “Your father’s!” I spat. Harrison’s eyes went dark. A terrifying, cold smile touched his lips. “Fine. You want to be difficult?” He turned to the surgeon waiting nearby. “Do it. And don’t bother with the anesthesia. She should feel every bit of it.” The doctor blanched. “Mr. Montgomery… that’s… we usually—” “I said do it,” Harrison snapped. I stared at him, my blood turning to ice. “You’re a monster. Harrison, stop!” “You chose this, Piper,” he said, stepping back as the nurses moved in. “You couldn’t keep your legs closed. Now you pay the price.” I started to struggle, panic finally setting in. “Harrison! Wait! I’m not—!” “Harrison!” A sharp, mocking voice echoed down the hall. Hudson Wilde walked toward us, his hands in his pockets, looking as casual as if he were at a garden party. Harrison frowned. “Hudson? What the hell are you doing here?” Hudson looked at me, then at the doctors, and let out a long, theatrical sigh. “I’m the father, Harrison. I figured I should probably be present for the ‘procedure.’” I froze. What?

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I was secretly the “kept woman” of the most powerful young tycoon in the capital, too scared to tell my family. But when he insisted on driving me back to my rural hometown for the Lunar New Year, my brother caught us. Panicking, I blurted out that he was just a rideshare driver. My brother scoffed. “You’re full of it. What kind of rideshare app sends a six-million-dollar Rolls-Royce? “He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he? “Tell him to get out here and fight me!” I went silent. And mumbled three little words. “He’s my sugar daddy.” 1 Having been with Arthur Sterling for three years, I knew perfectly well that our relationship was purely transactional. I was in it for his money and power. He lusted after my body. We had an unspoken agreement to never cross those lines. Until our last intimate encounter before the New Year. The man hovering above me suddenly spoke, his voice husky: “I’ll drive you back to your hometown tomorrow?” The clamor within me hit an immediate pause. I blinked my unfocused eyes, my thoughts slowly returning. My gaze landed on his sharp, composed features, trying to figure out what this sugar daddy of mine was thinking. Hmm. He didn’t seem to be joking. I couldn’t fathom why he would suddenly make such a bizarre request. But I knew the first rule of being a good canary was obedience. “Okay, sorry to trouble you, Mr. Sterling.” I offered my usual polite response. Even though we were currently in an ultra-thin, zero-distance situation. But a man’s heart is a deep ocean. I don’t know which word in that sentence offended this usually tight-lipped eldest son of the Sterling family, but the hand gripping my waist suddenly tightened its hold. “Hiss—” I couldn’t help but cry out in pain, trying to ask him to be gentler. Instead, he leaned down, pressed his lips against my earlobe, and said through gritted teeth: “No trouble. No trouble at all. “Ms. Vance.” 2 Arthur seemed angry. He wore a cold, stony expression the entire drive back the next day. Terrified that speaking would only make things worse, I kept my mouth shut. I just turned my head and stared at his reflection in the car window. His side profile was flawless. The cuffs of his sweater were rolled up halfway, revealing a strong, tanned forearm and the silver Montblanc watch on his wrist. It was a gift I had impulsively bought him with the first hundred thousand dollars he gave me during our first month together. To Arthur, it was practically cheap junk. Yet, it was the watch he wore most often. Back then, I was still naive and harbored some secret hopes, so I beat around the bush asking why he liked that watch so much. I wanted his answer to be about me. But the very next second, I heard him gently burst my little bubble. “Why do you ask? Do you think I wear it so often because you gave it to me? Chloe, you—” Arthur didn’t finish his sentence. But I had already filled in the blanks based on the cold indifference in his eyes. He probably wanted to say: “Chloe, have you forgotten your place?” My face flushed instantly, and a layer of cold sweat broke out on my back. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling. I overstepped.” I apologized, inexperienced and subservient. He didn’t answer. He just quietly read the documents his assistant had brought over, not even sparing me a glance. That was the first, and last, time I ever overstepped my bounds. 3 “Don’t you know how to say a few nice words to coax me?” The man’s sudden, aggrieved complaint snapped me back to reality. I stared at him blankly. I had no idea why he needed coaxing. But my mouth moved faster than my brain. A basketful of compliments poured out. “Mr. Sterling, it’s so weird! Even with my anti-addiction system fully activated, I still fell for you! “You look incredibly handsome from this angle! Hold on, let me take a picture of you!” These were lines I had specifically learned online to flatter men with high emotional intelligence. Arthur seemed to like them. Every time I praised him like that, he stopped being mad at me. I skillfully pulled out my phone, ready to take his picture. But a message from Leo popped up on the screen. [Mia is back. How much longer do you plan on taking up her spot?] It felt like fine silk threads were tugging at my heart, bringing a wave of unidentified pain. Mia was Arthur’s arranged childhood fiancée. They were supposed to get married three years ago, but Mia refused and ran off abroad. Leo said Arthur wanted to go after her, but his male pride wouldn’t let him. So, he ended up keeping me—someone who looked a bit like Mia—as a mistress instead. Yes, I was also a stand-in. Arthur noticed my sudden stillness. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. My family just messaged me asking when I’d arrive.” I made up an excuse, raised my phone, and casually snapped a picture of him. I praised him with absolutely zero emotion: “Wow! Even a candid shot looks this handsome! Can I use this as my lock screen?” Arthur coughed lightly and gave a nonchalant, two-word reply. “Up to you.” If you’re going to put on a show, you have to go all the way. After changing my lock screen, I stared blankly at the increasingly barren landscape passing by the window. I momentarily forgot to tell him to stop at the village entrance. 4 Arthur’s car parked smoothly right in front of my house. My brother, wearing a navy-blue puffer jacket, was squatting by the door doing chores. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling. Drive safe on your way back.” With that, I turned around, feigning calmness, and greeted my scowling brother, Caleb, deliberately blocking his view of the car. “Hey, big bro, peeling peanuts at home?” Caleb stood up, his gaze landing on the black car that was turning around. He asked in an unfriendly tone: “Who’s that?” I pursed my lips, thinking fast. “I couldn’t get a bus ticket, so I hailed a rideshare.” Caleb let out a cold laugh, mercilessly exposing my lie. “You’re full of it, Chloe. What kind of rideshare app sends a six-million-dollar Rolls-Royce? “He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he? “Tell him to get out here and fight me!” I choked, not knowing how to answer. Being a kept woman wasn’t exactly something to brag about, and given Arthur’s incredibly superior status, I never dared tell my family about him. I just told them I worked as a salesperson at a company with good benefits. But the car Arthur drove today was simply too eye-catching. I couldn’t find a good excuse. I could only pray that Arthur would finish turning around quickly and speed away out of my brother’s sight. But it was like he was deliberately trying to mess with me. He was taking his sweet time turning the car around. The road wasn’t even that hard to navigate… Seeing my brother marching forward aggressively, determined to force a greeting, I panicked and grabbed his jacket. And mumbled three little words. “He’s my sugar daddy.” My brother froze completely. He thought I was joking. “Hey, friend! You can’t just go around saying things like that! Otherwise, your brother here will beat you like a lion chasing a gazelle!” I blinked, offering a slight smile under his scrutinizing gaze. “Guess I couldn’t fool you! He’s my boss. He’s interested in me and is currently pursuing me.” Sugar daddy and boss… Uh. To me, they were pretty much the same thing, right? This answer was clearly much more believable. My brother visibly relaxed. Just as he was about to say something, the man’s unhurried, clear voice sounded from behind me. “Chloe.” My whole body jolted. Why hadn’t Arthur left yet? Did he hear what I said? I turned to look at him timidly. The tall, broad-shouldered man stood a few feet away. His black, fitted turtleneck sweater highlighted his muscular build. His deep brown eyes stared right at me. “I’m out of gas.” My brain short-circuited for a second, and I let out a dumbfounded “Ah.” My brother instantly realized what was happening. He spread his arms like a mother hen protecting her calf, shielding me behind him. “We’re both men here, so cut the act! You just want to stay here, confuse us, and force us to pressure my sister into being with you, right? Well, let me tell you, no way! My sister is a top-tier beauty; she’s seen plenty of scheming suitors like you! They could line up from our village all the way to France! Do you even know where France is?!” “Bro, stop talking…” I grabbed a handful of peanuts and shoved them into his mouth, looking at Arthur awkwardly and nervously, terrified he’d reveal our true relationship. Thank goodness. Arthur merely narrowed his eyes slightly, then stared at me with a half-smile. “I know where it is. I’ve even taken Ms. Vance there.” I pursed my lips. Memories flooded my mind. During that trip to France, I barely left the hotel. Every corner of the presidential suite bore the marks of Arthur and me. He was an untiring madman. Seeing my reddening ears, Arthur knew exactly what I was thinking and asked maliciously: “Ms. Vance, did you enjoy that trip to France?” He paused deliberately. “Was it fun?” Even though I was incredibly embarrassed, I nodded frantically, desperate to flip the page on this subject and send this giant Buddha on his way. “Yes, very fun! Mr. Sterling, you’re out of gas, right? Let me drive the convertible and take you to a hotel in town!” Now it was my brother’s turn to be confused. “Our family is so poor, when did we get a convertible?” I calmly raised my hand and pointed to the three-wheeled utility cart in the courtyard. “Isn’t that it right there?” Arthur actually laughed out of anger. This young master, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, probably never expected to face such an ordeal nearing thirty. Even my brother couldn’t stand it anymore. “Taking that three-wheeler six miles to town in sub-zero weather? Tsk, Sis, do you have a vendetta against him?” “What else can we do? We only have a two-wheeled electric scooter and that three-wheeled ‘convertible’.” My brother looked at Arthur, hesitated for a few seconds, and finally said: “Since you look somewhat decent, we’ll reluctantly let you stay the night. But you’re getting out of here first thing tomorrow morning! You hear me?” Seeing my plan succeed, I quickly blinked at Arthur. He glanced at me, a smile rippling in his eyes, and nodded obediently. “Understood, Brother.” “Who the fuck is your brother?! Um… could I maybe take a couple of pictures with your car later?” 5 That night, my parents specifically prepared the upstairs room for Arthur. Right between my room and my brother’s. Before going to bed, my brother glared fiercely and pointed a finger at Arthur’s chest. “You better sleep quietly tonight! I’ll be doing random room checks!” Arthur nodded obediently, looking like the perfect honor student. But in the middle of the night, he knocked on my door. The dim yellow light from the streetlamp filtered through the curtains. Arthur pinned me behind the door, loosely resting his hand around my neck, using the web of his thumb against my chin to force me to look up at him. “A suitor?” Great. He’s here to settle the score. Feeling his somewhat oppressive gaze, I nervously started biting the dead skin on my lips. “Listen to me explai—mm.” Before I could finish my excuse, his finger pressed against my lower lip. “Don’t bite. “It’ll start bleeding again.” Arthur frowned, the genuine concern and gentleness in his eyes leaving me stunned. Honestly, I got everything I wanted from Arthur in less than a year. I should have left a long time ago. But maybe he had grown accustomed to my company. The initially cold and arrogant Arthur gradually retracted his thorns, occasionally showing flashes of tenderness like today. They were like tiny vines, quietly wrapping around my heart. By the time I realized it, they had already integrated into my flesh and blood, impossible to separate. But now, Leo’s message forcefully ripped them apart. It hurt so much I almost cried. This secret, unspeakable relationship between Arthur and me was finally coming to an end. “Thanks,” I whispered. Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Thanks for what?” “Thanks for not exposing me in front of my family.” I smiled self-deprecatingly. “If my brother knew I was a kept woman, he’d skin me alive.” Arthur looked down at me quietly, his thoughts unreadable, his eyes a swirl of emotions I couldn’t decipher. Suddenly, he leaned down and kissed me. He kissed me domineeringly, fiercely, as if trying to mold me into his own body. His chilling hands slipped under the hem of my pajamas, so cold that I instinctively leaned into his chest. “So cold…” Arthur pulled his hands back, gripping my waist over the pajamas instead. Seeing the situation getting out of hand, I pressed against his chest, struggling to push him back a little. “What if my brother comes in?” “His snoring is shaking the house; I doubt he’ll wake up anytime soon.” As if to prove his point, the moment Arthur finished speaking, I heard my brother’s pig-like snoring. If you didn’t know better, you’d think someone was revving a motorcycle. Speechless. I held onto the edge of the bed, reminding Arthur: “My house doesn’t have good soundproofing…” He gave a knowing smile. “I know.” The next second, he pinched my cheek, kissed my lips lightly like a dragonfly touching water, and smiled wickedly. “I won’t make a sound.” “You might not, but I will!” Arthur affectionately nudged his nose against mine: “So, you’ll just have to hold it in.” This man! He’s completely evil!

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My former best friend Chloe’s birthday is also the anniversary of my mother’s death. The moment I saw Chloe and Arthur Sterling picking out a birthday cake together, I knew. This former best friend, who had already stolen my father, was now going to steal my husband. But I wasn’t going to let her win. Determined not to repeat the tragedy of my mother—who was driven to suicide—I ruined Chloe’s birthday party. Then, I pulled out the divorce papers I had prepared long ago and moved out of our home that very night. It had been less than seven hours since it happened. In those seven hours: I spent one hour packing, and one hour getting to the high-speed rail station. It took me three hours to reach my grandmother’s house. For the final two hours, I successfully convinced my grandmother to let me stay with her. Arthur Sterling? I was done with him. When Arthur realized Mia had blocked him, he was genuinely stunned. In their three years of marriage, Mia, as Mrs. Sterling, had always been the epitome of grace, dignity, and generosity. No matter the occasion, her behavior had always been completely irreproachable. It wasn’t until he returned home and saw the divorce papers sitting on the table that he belatedly realized he had made a catastrophic mistake. “It’s been years. Chloe has been trying to make peace with you. There’s no need to keep things this hostile. Today is her birthday. She offered a toast to you as your elder; you should have accepted it.” “When you were younger, you could blame your trauma on your family background. But if you still can’t regulate your emotions now, it just shows you haven’t matured. With you in this state, how can I possibly have children with you?” Arthur picked up the divorce papers, read through the terms, and set them back down on the table. He didn’t think he had done anything wrong. Whether Mia accepted it or not, Chloe had long since transitioned from her best friend to her stepmother. Mia’s constant, rigid hostility toward Chloe created intense family friction, making it incredibly difficult for him to navigate social events that required his wife’s attendance. Besides, from what he had seen, Chloe wasn’t nearly as terrible as Mia claimed. He genuinely believed that instead of desperately clinging to the past, Mia should change her mindset and embrace the future with a smile. But realizing this was the first time Mia had ever been this angry, a flicker of panic took root in his chest. His grip on his phone tightened, and Arthur tried calling Mia again. He was still blocked. From the exact moment I saw Arthur and Chloe standing together in that bakery, carefully selecting a birthday cake, I knew my marriage to Arthur had reached its bitter end. Determined not to suffer my mother’s fate, I shattered Chloe’s birthday celebration, packed my bags, and walked out of the home Arthur and I shared. It had been less than seven hours since it all went down. In those seven hours: I spent one hour packing, and one hour rushing to the high-speed rail station. Three hours traveling to my grandmother’s house. And the final two hours successfully convincing her to let me stay. “Grandma, I told you a long time ago, you have terrible taste in men.” “First, you picked a scumbag for my mom, and now you introduced me to a piece of trash. You ruined both of our lives. You have to take responsibility.” I smiled as I fed my grandmother a slice of sweet melon. I gently rested my head against her back, just like I did when I was a little girl. Truthfully, before I brought Chloe home with me, my parents had a pretty good relationship. Back then, forget my mother—even I never would have guessed that eighteen-year-old Chloe had her sights set on my forty-five-year-old father. Despite a massive twenty-seven-year age gap, they pursued their twisted romance with reckless abandon. My mother, a fiercely proud and independent woman her entire life, simply could not accept that her husband was divorcing her for her own daughter’s classmate. In a moment of absolute, suffocating despair, she jumped from the 18th floor. Terrified that staying with my father would destroy me, my grandmother took me in to live with her. Seeing me remain single for years after entering the workforce, she realized I had developed a profound phobia of men and marriage. Terrified I would end up completely alone after she passed away, she introduced me to Arthur Sterling. She originally thought that since she was close friends with Arthur’s grandmother, the connection provided a solid foundation of trust. But even she couldn’t have predicted that Arthur—flawless on paper—was fundamentally, pathologically rational. In every relationship, he only weighed the pros and cons, never considering genuine human emotion. So, when he tricked me into attending Chloe’s birthday dinner, constantly claiming it was “for my own good,” and eventually grabbed my wrist, trying to physically force me to drink the toast Chloe offered… I flipped the table. I completely destroyed Chloe’s birthday dinner. And I pointed directly at my father’s face, demanding to know if he remembered what day it was. 2 Yes. It’s a hilariously cruel joke. Chloe’s birthday is also the exact anniversary of my mother’s death. But besides me, no one remembered. Not even Arthur. He used to hold me close, whispering sweet promises: “From now on, I’ll go with you to pay our respects on your mother’s anniversary. I won’t ever make you face the past alone.” Yet, on the actual day of her anniversary, stopped at a literal intersection between the bustling downtown district and the quiet, desolate cemetery, he chose to turn toward the city center. He physically dragged me into the opulent, blindingly bright hotel lobby. Everywhere I looked, I saw massive, glamorous promotional cutouts of Chloe. There were solo shots of her, and photos of her passionately kissing my father. When we entered the private dining room, Chloe was wearing a pale purple strapless gown, her long, heavily styled hair cascading down her back. She sat at the head of the table, radiating the absolute authority of a matriarch. A massive, multi-carat diamond ring sparkled on her pale, bony finger, the glare almost physically hurting my eyes. When my mother was alive, she once told my father that for her fortieth birthday, she wanted a diamond ring. Nothing extravagant. Just something for a few thousand dollars. But on the day of my mother’s fortieth birthday, my father didn’t even come home. In the end, I used all my saved-up allowance money to buy my mother a diamond ring myself. The ring Chloe was wearing? I actually owned the exact same one. Arthur had given it to me for our wedding anniversary last year. It cost over three million dollars. I desperately didn’t want to look, but my eyes were drawn to it anyway. I noticed my father gazing at Chloe with absolute, unfiltered adoration. Seeing a stray hair on her shoulder, he gently picked it off and threw it away. My mother had never, ever experienced that level of meticulous, tender care. I bit down hard on my tongue. My entire body was shaking. “Mia, you’re here? I’m so incredibly happy to see you today.” Chloe’s gaze slowly traveled over Arthur’s face before finally landing on me, her expression entirely dismissive. She stood up gracefully, her diamond-encrusted nails glittering under the chandelier, perfectly matching the crystal wine glass in her hand. She swirled the deep red wine in her glass, over and over. Seeing that I was refusing to acknowledge Chloe’s gesture, Arthur picked up the wine glass sitting in front of me and drank it for me. But before he could even finish the glass, I beat him to the punch and violently flipped the entire table. Even now, I can still perfectly recall the look Arthur gave me as a table full of exquisite, outrageously expensive food crashed onto the floor in a catastrophic mess. Disappointment, intense displeasure, and pure disgust. 3 The usually dignified and composed Mrs. Sterling had lost her composure. I had humiliated him. Thinking back carefully, since the day I met Arthur, that was the very first time he had ever looked at me like that. When we first started dating, we were just like any normal couple. We climbed mountains together. We watched the sunset. We went camping and stargazing. On our wedding night, he promised me that he would never, ever let me suffer a single grievance in this life. He swore he would never force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. He vowed he would absolutely never repeat the horrific mistakes my father made. At that time, Chloe hadn’t yet set her sights on him. It wasn’t until I started noticing inconsistencies in his behavior and hired an investigator that I learned the truth. It turned out that, starting over a year ago, Chloe had been secretly contacting Arthur under the guise of wanting to “repair her relationship” with me. For an entire year. Arthur hadn’t breathed a single syllable of this to me. It wasn’t that I hadn’t considered making Arthur my safe harbor, of trying to genuinely trust him. But I am profoundly grateful that I always kept a piece of myself guarded. It allowed me to instantly, cleanly sever ties the absolute second a problem arose. Chloe’s betrayal and my mother’s suicide had permanently burned a complete inability to trust others into my core. Because of this deeply ingrained habit, I spent the last three years constantly preparing for the worst. I never actually expected that my three years of preparation would inevitably be put to use. “Are you absolutely sure about this?” My grandmother sighed softly. She knew I was joking earlier; she knew I had never blamed her. She truly, deeply didn’t want to see my marriage to Arthur end like this. “Yes. Better to do it now, before we have kids.” After Arthur and I got married, we had genuinely discussed having children. 4 But Arthur always felt I wasn’t “positive” or “sunny” enough. He was worried my psychological state wouldn’t provide a healthy environment for raising a child. To “fix” me, he signed me up for expensive psychology courses. He even hired a private therapist for me. I told him that, to me, he was infinitely more important than any therapist. He clearly didn’t take that seriously. The moment he started secretly contacting Chloe—having dinner with her, grabbing coffee, even going shopping and exchanging gifts—my psychological state was doomed to crash. While packing my bags, I only intended to take my personal belongings. I never expected to find a thick stack of shopping receipts hidden at the very bottom of his closet. From small items like luxury car keychains to massive purchases like high-end watches and jewelry. Under the guise of an ‘elder’ and a ‘younger generation,’ a ‘stepmother’ and a ‘son-in-law,’ they had been showering each other with attention. Honestly, if Arthur had chosen literally anyone else, I might have considered my grandmother’s feelings and maintained a facade of a happy marriage. But he absolutely, categorically should never have chosen Chloe! No one understands exactly what kind of person Chloe is better than I do. Before our friendship imploded, she used to jokingly complain to me: Why is your family so rich? Why do I have to live like a poor person? If I ever get the chance, I’m going to steal everything you have. I’m going to make what’s yours, mine. So, she stole my father from my mother. And now, realizing my father is getting old and his earning potential is declining, she wants to steal Arthur from me. “Since you’ve made up your mind, Grandma supports you. Just… please don’t be foolish like your mother was.” When my mother died, she acted too impulsively. She left me with virtually no assets. The moment Chloe married my father, she seized absolute control of my family’s finances. My living expenses plummeted the instant she became my father’s wife. “She just can’t stand seeing you live a better life than her! Women like her always get what’s coming to them!” My grandmother was fiercely furious on my behalf when it came to Chloe. Remembering my mother’s horrific tragedy, she wiped away tears of heartbreak. “I am going to live a better life than her. Better than both of them.” 5 Thinking about the preparations I had made over the past three years, I felt a deep sense of confidence. “Mia, I heard you and Arthur had a fight. If it’s because I asked Arthur to bring you to my birthday dinner, I apologize. This has absolutely nothing to do with him. I was the one who begged him to help us repair our relationship.” “You’ve ignored me for so many years, and it genuinely breaks my heart.” “Legally speaking, you are my daughter now. I truly, deeply want us to go back to how we used to be.” Chloe knows exactly how to nauseate me. So, she intentionally chose the most offensive, triggering words possible. I didn’t even need to see her face. I knew exactly what kind of smug, triumphant expression Chloe was wearing on the other end of the line. “Are you done? If you’re done, I’m hanging up.” I had blocked Chloe’s number years ago. I only answered this time because she must have used someone else’s phone, and I didn’t recognize the number. I felt violently physically ill. It seemed that from now on, I couldn’t answer unknown numbers either. “Mia, what’s done is done. Do you think hiding is going to make it disappear? Whether you accept it or not, you cannot change my current status!” Terrified I would hang up, Chloe instantly dropped the sweet act and hardened her tone. As expected. Now that her status had changed, she no longer spoke to me with that pathetic, subservient tone she used to use—constantly following me around, clinging to me, calling me ‘Mia’ affectionately. Now, she was addressing me by my full name like an equal! “I have zero desire to change it. If you want to dig through my garbage and take the trash I threw away, I couldn’t care less. Go right ahead!” I had cut ties with that scumbag father of mine a long time ago. As for Arthur, she wanted to steal him so badly, right? I’ll gift-wrap him for her! “You know?” Chloe didn’t realize I already knew about her secret meetings with Arthur over the past year. Her voice instantly turned cold. “Whether I know or not is entirely irrelevant. What matters is whether my father knows!” I let out a cold laugh and ended the call. I remembered that the very first thing I did after walking out of Chloe’s birthday dinner was forward that massive compilation of evidence straight to my father’s email. I was fully prepared to sit back and watch those two rabid dogs tear each other to pieces. As for Arthur, if he agreed to a clean divorce, we could handle it smoothly. If he refused, I would simply file a lawsuit. And a lawsuit meant I would walk away with significantly more. “Mr. Sterling, why didn’t you bring Mrs. Sterling today? It’s highly unusual for you to attend an event like this solo.” Arthur had barely taken his seat. The people around him, confirming Mia’s absence, immediately started teasing him. 6 Everyone in their social circle knew that Arthur and Mia were the ultimate model couple. If an event allowed plus-ones, Mia was absolutely guaranteed to be standing right by Arthur’s side. “Next time.” Arthur’s expression was noticeably dark. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Mia had been gone for over a week. And during that entire week, no matter how he tried to contact her, her only response was always the exact same sentence: “Have you signed the divorce papers yet?” It was infuriating. Normally, with Mia by his side, he could gather crucial business intel through her casual conversations with the other executives’ wives. Now, without Mia’s strategic assists, something felt fundamentally wrong. It felt like… his information wasn’t complete. He felt unanchored. Even though, before they got married, he used to secure massive contracts entirely on his own. Had Mia really changed his workflow this drastically in just three short years? “Arthur, I am so incredibly sorry. I know I shouldn’t be bothering you at this hour. But I genuinely have nowhere else to go.” When Arthur returned home from the networking event, Chloe was crouched outside his door, wearing a flowing white fringed dress. Hearing the elevator ping, she looked up, her expression a masterclass in pathetic vulnerability. Her eyes were a complex mix of shame, embarrassment, and profound victimization. “What happened?” Arthur glanced at Chloe briefly before unlocking the door with his fingerprint and stepping inside. “Mia took some videos of us meeting over the past year, edited them completely out of context, and sent them to her dad. He misunderstood the situation between us and threw me out of the house.” Chloe’s eyes darted around, taking in Arthur and Mia’s marital home. Even though she had seen her fair share of opulence living with Arthur’s father, all of that suddenly felt cheap and insignificant compared to the breathtaking, floor-to-ceiling display of rare collectibles lining Arthur’s walls. She expertly masked the flash of raw greed in her eyes, letting her long hair fall forward to hide her expression. She played the role of the helpless, fragile victim to absolute perfection. “She’s throwing a tantrum because she’s angry at me. Please don’t blame her. I’ll explain everything to her clearly, and then I’ll have her come here and apologize to you and her father.” Even now, Arthur genuinely refused to believe that Mia’s demand for a divorce was real. He was absolutely certain she was just throwing a fit. She was waiting for him to go and coax her. “I think she’s much angrier at me. You just got dragged into the crossfire. From the day I met Mia, I’ve always known that once she sets her mind to something, she never changes it.” 7 “I was too greedy. I never should have asked you to help me.” After saying that, Chloe raised a hand to her forehead, swaying dramatically as if she were about to faint. “What’s wrong? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” Arthur frowned. Looking at Chloe’s pale lips and obvious distress, he hesitated for a moment before finally reaching out to support her. “I haven’t eaten anything all day. It’s probably low blood sugar. Can I please just crash here for one night? I’ll go back tomorrow after I figure out exactly how to explain everything.” This “crashing for the night” tactic was the exact same move Chloe had used years ago to sleep with my father in the middle of the night, right under my and my mother’s noses. She was planning to run the exact same play. My father had indeed gotten into a massive fight with her. But after she vehemently, desperately denied everything, he had actually apologized to her. She was the one who insisted on leaving; my father couldn’t stop her. “Do whatever you want.” Seeing that Chloe genuinely looked unwell, her lips entirely devoid of color… And remembering that she was technically Mia’s family… he let go of her, turned around, and went to his own room. Having achieved half her objective, Chloe listened to the sound of Arthur’s door closing. She pulled out her phone and snapped a selfie. Then, she sent it to me. I had blocked her number. But today, specifically to contact me, she had bought a brand new SIM card. That night, she left her bedroom door unlocked, waiting for Arthur to walk in for the entire night. But she was deeply disappointed. Arthur didn’t barge into her room like my father had. Chloe realized that even though she had spent a year laying the groundwork, and had confirmed that Arthur wasn’t repulsed by her… if she wanted to escalate their relationship, she needed to manufacture a different kind of opportunity. I was at the supermarket with my grandmother when I received Chloe’s photo. “Just a solo shot? You don’t have any photos of the two of you? Nothing a little more explicit?” I typed out a completely emotionless reply and hit send. “Your heart must be bleeding right now, isn’t it? Still pretending you don’t care? Mia, the look of absolute agony in your eyes when you flipped that table at my party was much more convincing!” Terrified that a text message would leave a digital trail I could use against her, Chloe immediately called me. “Done acting? This is your true face. You’ve been putting on that fake act for so many years, if you didn’t finally show your true, disgusting colors, I almost would have forgotten what you really looked like!” I listened to Chloe’s cold sneer through the speaker. Ever since she married my father, she had constantly put on the airs of a devoted stepmother. Every word out of her mouth was dripping with hypocritical concern and fake affection. I was sick to death of it. “Haven’t you always desperately wanted me to divorce your father? Congratulations, your wish is about to come true. I demanded a divorce from him last night. Barring any surprises, in a month, your father will be all yours! I will never fight you for him again!” Chloe’s obsession with marrying my father, despite the intense public scrutiny, wasn’t just for the luxurious lifestyle the Harrison family provided. It was also because she was intensely jealous of the paternal love my father used to show me. Her own father had abused and beaten her since childhood. She had never experienced a father’s love in her entire life. So, she sacrificed her youth and beauty to buy the years of devotion my father offered her. 8 What others saw as a pathetic, degrading trade, she saw as the ultimate victory. “Are you sure he’s actually willing to divorce you? What if he refuses?” I knew exactly what this was. Chloe wanted to kick my father to the curb and hook up with Arthur. After all, Arthur was young, handsome, insanely wealthy, and powerful. Unlike my father, who was aging, gaining weight, and had seen his assets shrink significantly in recent years due to the economic downturn. Comparing the two, Arthur won flawlessly. But just because Chloe wanted a divorce didn’t mean my father wanted one. My father had already divorced his wife of many years for Chloe, entirely alienating his only daughter in the process. If he divorced Chloe now, he would become the ultimate, pathetic laughingstock! “You don’t need to worry about that. I have my ways. Besides, your father acts like a trained dog around me. If I tell him to go left, he wouldn’t dare go right!” Chloe possessed an incredible sense of superiority when it came to my father. This superiority gave her the delusion that her charm was absolutely limitless. Just like years ago. No matter how incredibly kind I was to her, in her eyes, I only valued her for her beauty. She believed I only wanted to be friends with her to draw more attention to myself, to make myself look more noble and arrogant. People project their own toxic nature onto others; they assume everyone thinks exactly the way they do. “Unlike your mother, who was with him for over a decade and couldn’t control him in the slightest!” “Honestly, it’s a good thing your mother died. Otherwise, seeing how obedient your father is to me, she probably would have died of a rage-induced stroke anyway!” “Chloe, karma is real! You murdered my mother, and now you have the absolute audacity to insult her memory?! Aren’t you terrified of divine retribution?!” Hearing her shamelessly drag my mother’s name through the mud, my grip on my phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. I told myself: Wait just a little longer! Karma is coming, and it’s coming fast! Terrified that I was recording the call, and realizing she had said things that completely destroyed her carefully crafted persona, Chloe abruptly hung up. She was incredibly arrogant when she called me, but she hung up looking like a panicked rat. After that. Certain that Arthur was never going to sign the divorce papers voluntarily, I didn’t even bother informing him. I went straight to the courthouse and filed a formal lawsuit for divorce. The first attempt at a lawsuit usually doesn’t end in a granted divorce. Knowing full well I wouldn’t get the immediate result I wanted, I filed anyway to intentionally manufacture a massive media scandal. Arthur’s tech company was scheduled to go public next year. The longer this dragged out, and the closer we got to his IPO, the less he could afford a messy divorce. And exactly as I predicted. When his lawyers received the official notice from the court, Arthur couldn’t handle the pressure. He showed up at my grandmother’s house in the middle of the night. “It seems you weren’t avoiding me because you didn’t know where I was. You just didn’t want to come see me face-to-face.” It was the dead of night when Arthur finally tracked me down. I was wearing the same pink pajamas I used to wear before I got married. My long, dark hair cascaded loosely down my back. I yawned, stepping aside to let him in. “Mia, you have taken this entirely too far!” Arthur was still wearing his tailored work suit. He stared directly at me, instantly grabbing my wrist, his brow furrowed in absolute, exhausted irritation. “I gave you plenty of time. You were the one who refused to cooperate. Since you refuse to agree to an amicable divorce, my only option is to sue.” I knew exactly how physically strong Arthur was, so I didn’t bother struggling against his grip. I didn’t struggle at all.

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Years after graduation, my high school lab partner became a massive pop star. In a recent interview, he publicly confessed: “Back in high school, there was someone I had a massive crush on.” When that interview aired, I was sitting at my high school reunion, staring at my phone. My former classmates immediately started mocking me. “Don’t tell me you think he’s talking about you?” “She was so nerdy back then. How could it be her? My vote is for the Prom Queen!” Stella Montgomery, our former high school ‘it girl,’ sat across from me. She blushed and giggled, “Please keep it a secret, guys. I’ll get you all his autograph next time.” Everyone thought it was her. That was until this summer, when I accidentally ended up moving into his apartment. After a heated argument, he grabbed my wrist, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Chloe Hastings. You are not allowed to hate me.” 1 “Chloe, why the sudden move to New York City?” At the reunion, Stella suddenly brought me up. “Rent in the city is insane, and your family didn’t exactly have a lot of money…” Over the years, Stella had become a minor influencer and actress. Tonight, she was the center of attention. Compared to me, a lowly intern, she was living the dream. I was just about to say I already found a place to stay, when a cool, magnetic voice echoed from a phone nearby. “Back in high school, there was someone I had a massive crush on…” The girl next to me eagerly grabbed my phone. It was a live stream of Liam Thorne, the nation’s top chart-topping singer. He was looking directly into the camera, a faint, gentle smile playing on his lips. The affection in his eyes practically melted through the screen. The girl next to me started shouting. “I know why Chloe moved to New York!” She spun my phone around to show the rest of the table, laughing. “Remember how there was a rumor that Liam had a crush on you? Don’t tell me you actually took it seriously! The second he confesses to having a high school crush, you pack your bags for the city.” I waved my hands awkwardly. “I didn’t think that at all…” Any secret butterflies I had as a teenager had faded with time. I knew the difference between a normal person and a global superstar. Sarah, one of the few people I actually talked to in high school, tugged my sleeve. “Just drop it. Stella is right here, it’s making things weird.” I froze, looking blankly at Stella. My brain short-circuited. Was Liam… dating Stella? Stella’s face instantly flushed red. “Stop making things up… we aren’t even official yet.” The table erupted in teasing cheers. Amidst the noise, Stella looked at me. “It’s okay, Chloe. If you want to see him, I can take you to meet him.” “You can ask him yourself if he even remembers you.” 2 The reunion dragged on until late. After everyone finally left, I let out a long sigh. I had to meet my new landlord tonight, and I didn’t want to be late. On the cab ride over, the high school group chat started blowing up. “Chloe was such a wallflower. Who even started that rumor about Liam liking her?” “Exactly. Stella was gorgeous. My money is on Stella.” Suddenly, Stella sent a $100 Apple Cash payment to the group chat. “Next time I’ll get you guys those autographs… 😘” The chat went wild. I looked at the Apple Cash notification, hesitating. I had been a ghost in this chat for so long, I doubted they even remembered I was in it. If I quietly claim a few bucks, it shouldn’t be a big deal, right? I tapped the bubble. My finger hovered over ‘Claim.’ My eyes sparkled at the free coffee money. At that exact second, a user with a pitch-black profile picture sent a message. “Since when do Stella and I have anything going on?” A classmate immediately replied with a sneer: “Who are you? Why are you acting like you know?” The user replied with two words: “Liam Thorne.” Stella quickly jumped in. “I have Liam’s actual number. Who is this fake?” The chat started mocking the user. “Probably one of Chloe’s simps.” “Chloe actually has simps? LMAO.” Right at that moment, my finger slipped and hit the button. System notification: Chloe H. has claimed your Apple Cash. The noisy group chat instantly fell dead silent. I backed out of the payment screen and saw the messages. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. After a few minutes of agonizing silence, I carefully typed: “Sorry, I don’t really know who this person is…” Stella didn’t reply. I sent another message: “@Stella, I accidentally claimed the largest share of the cash. I’m so sorry, I can Venmo it back…” This time, absolutely no one said a word. The chat was like a graveyard. 3 After a bumpy ride, the cab pulled up to a hyper-exclusive neighborhood in Tribeca. Looking at the understated, luxurious high-rise in front of me, I double-checked with the driver. He promised he was at the right address. I immediately called my mom. “Mom, the place I’m at right now… it looks like a billionaire’s row.” “Is it the Astor Residences?” “Yes…” “Then you’re in the right place. Just remember to be polite and don’t cause trouble for the owner.” Rent in New York was notoriously brutal. My mom had found this place through an old friend. She said the landlord was a nice guy and was giving us a massive discount. But… moving straight into a luxury penthouse? After the doorman rigorously verified my identity, he let me up. Ten minutes later, dragging my suitcase, I nervously knocked on the door of unit 302. With a soft click. The door opened. A sliver of warm light spilled into the hallway. The moment I looked up and saw that face, my heart stopped beating. How could it be… Liam? Years later, his sharp, handsome features had only grown more striking, almost intimidatingly perfect. Seeing him in person was a thousand times more shocking than seeing him on TV. Blood pounded in my ears. I gripped the handle of my suitcase, panicking as I turned around. “I’m so sorry, I—I have the wrong door…” I prepared to flee. A cool, indifferent voice cut through the dim lighting of the corridor. Crisp and magnetic. “You don’t have the wrong door.” “Chloe Hastings. Get inside.” 4 I never expected to reunite with Liam like this. Back in high school, Liam and I were lab partners. But only for a very short time. Because shortly after we were assigned to sit together, a group of girls cornered me by the lockers. “We saw you give Liam a carton of milk today. If you reach out to him again, we’ll beat you to a pulp. Got it?” “Keep your voice down, you’ll scare the little good girl.” “Don’t even look at him, or I’ll claw your eyes out.” Terrified and harassed daily, I finally dragged my desk to the back of the classroom one afternoon and switched seats on my own. “Chloe.” Liam’s voice yanked me back to reality. He was holding a pair of guest slippers in mid-air, looking like he had been waiting for a while. “Do I have to put them on your feet myself?” My face flushed the color of a boiled lobster. “No, thank you…” He looked like he had just stepped out of the shower. His dark hair was still damp. He wore a loose white hoodie, standing lazily by the door. Under the harsh hallway lights, his skin seemed to give off a flawless, soft glow. I kept my eyes glued to the floor and muttered, “Um… I don’t think this is a good idea. Once I find a new apartment, I’ll move out…” Liam paused, looking at me coldly. “Why? Do you hate me that much?” “Having male and female roommates is just a bit…” “When you signed the lease, you said you didn’t mind a co-ed arrangement.” It was true. In an expensive city like New York, having roommates of the opposite sex was incredibly common. But… He was a mega-star. Why did he need a roommate? I took a deep breath. “I’m not part of your celebrity world. Being around you… I might not be used to it.” The clock in the corner ticked loudly, pointing to 11:00 PM. The living room was dead silent. Liam looked away. “Fine. Break the lease. But I’m keeping the deposit.” I hummed in agreement and bent down to change my shoes. Suddenly, my phone slipped out of my pocket. Smack. It hit the floor. My AirPods disconnected. The audio of Liam’s live stream, which I had still been watching, blasted at max volume through the quiet living room. And my ‘Top 1% Super Fan’ badge, glaring brightly on the screen, was on full display for him to see. My recent comment had been pinned to the top of the chat. It was a thirsty cat emoji. With the caption: “God, if he ever chased me, I would simply pass away…” And the replies below it read: “Don’t worry girl, I’ll hold him back for you.” My face practically caught fire. I didn’t dare move a muscle. Liam just stood there, looking down, calmly watching my comment get hundreds of likes in real-time. Just as I was about to die of asphyxiation from the embarrassment. Liam drawled lazily: “Ah. The Top 1% Super Fan who isn’t ‘part of my world.’” “…” 5 For days after that, I avoided Liam like the plague. I didn’t dare bring up breaking the lease again. In a state of constant anxiety, I started my new job. I was an intern reporter for the entertainment desk of a digital magazine. New York was experiencing a brutal heatwave. The sounds of the city traffic were giving me a migraine. One day, my editor, Mr. Davis, suddenly dragged me out on a field assignment, saying the original intern called in sick. The shoot was in a sweltering park in Brooklyn. We baked in the sun for over an hour before the interviewee finally arrived. “Chloe? Is that really you?” Seeing Stella, I froze. She was our subject for the day. Mr. Davis wiped the sweat from his forehead, ignoring our connection, and fired off a few questions. Stella barely gave him the time of day. And I had to stand there with her, roasting in the sun. For the entire afternoon. When the interview finally ended, Stella took a sip of her iced oat milk latte and smiled. “Chloe, why didn’t you tell us you had a boyfriend?” “We’re old friends, why hide it?” “What?” I was completely lost. “The guy who defended you in the group chat the other night.” Stella smirked. “He even pretended to be Liam just to stick up for you…” A few of the crew members nearby chuckled. “People still pretend to be celebrities online? I thought we left that in middle school.” “Miss Chloe, if you want Liam’s autograph, just ask Stella. He’s literally on set today, there’s no need to date an internet troll.” I quickly explained, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” But the conversation had already moved on. Stella was chatting happily with everyone else, pretending she hadn’t heard me. Mr. Davis pulled me aside. “Go take a break. You might be old classmates, but you’re not in the same league anymore. What’s the point of talking to her?” By early evening, the weather finally cooled down. I sat under a tree and clicked on the profile of the person who had defended me in the chat. To my shock, I realized this person was already in my contacts. The saved name was—Landlord. It suddenly hit me. Right before I moved to New York, my mom had texted me his contact card, telling me he was the landlord and to message him when I arrived. But since the time and place were already set, I never bothered to reach out. I tried to tap his profile picture, but my finger slipped. A tiny line of text popped up at the bottom of the screen: You nudged “Landlord”. “…” The other side instantly switched to “Typing…” Landlord: “Need something?” I tentatively typed two words: “Liam? Thorne?” He seemed busy. It took a moment for him to reply: “If you have something to say, say it.” “!” With that icy attitude, it had to be Liam! I abruptly looked up, trying to scan the area. And right on cue, I spotted Liam leaning against a luxury SUV a few yards away. He was wearing a ridiculously expensive tailored suit, his stage makeup flawless, his dark eyes like ink. He looked absurdly gorgeous. Was he shooting here today too? Our eyes met, and he raised an eyebrow slightly. My heart immediately skipped a beat. Then he looked down and tapped his phone. My phone buzzed. Landlord: “Top 1% Super Fan, reel in your eyes. You’re staring.” “…” The summer heat and my own embarrassment made me feel suffocated. I drank some water, but it didn’t help. I decided to go to the public restroom to splash some water on my face and calm down. But as I approached the door, I heard whispers inside. “…is she the gold-digger Stella was talking about?” “Yeah. Her family is broke. She tried to seduce Liam in high school, and now she has some loser simp defending her online. Totally delusional.” “Why would anyone simp for her?” “Some girls just know how to open their legs and get what they want.” I stood by the door, listening silently, waiting until they walked out and saw me. Their faces dropped. “You… why didn’t you go in?” I smiled. “I was busy listening to you talk trash about me.” I held up my phone. “Thank you for letting me know Stella talks about me behind my back. I’ll go ask her about it right now.” The two girls panicked, waving their hands frantically. “No, no, no, we were just making things up!” “We’re sorry, we’re so sorry…” I looked skeptical. “So Stella didn’t say it?” “No…” They shifted uncomfortably. “We’re sorry, it was just dumb gossip.” “Fine. Post a public apology on your Instagram stories. Make sure you detail exactly what lies you spread. Otherwise…” I paused, pulling out my digital voice recorder. “You do know what I do for a living, right?” Half an hour later, they showed me their phones. I didn’t let them leave until I was satisfied with their miserable expressions. The apologies were live on their stories. Not hidden from anyone. So when I walked back to set, Stella’s face looked like thunder. As night fell, the drama seemed to pass. Because the shoot ran late, Mr. Davis booked us rooms in a nearby five-star hotel. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. Landlord: “You’re staying there tonight?” “Yeah.” “Want to grab dinner?” I had just stepped out of the elevator. Intermittent laughter drifted from the elevator banks next to me. “…back in high school, Stella had me and a few girls jump her. She learned her place real quick after that.” “You don’t even know. Chloe and her mom are exactly the same. We sent people to harass her mom’s street cart, and they didn’t even dare squeak.” It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I stood frozen in place. Until the elevator doors closed. And the voices disappeared. It took a long time for me to process what I had heard. My mom had run a small food cart near the high school for years. I never knew they had hired people to harass her. What was even more terrifying was that the people who bullied me back then were working right beside me now. By the time I took the elevator back to the lobby to confront them, they were gone.

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