Category: English

1 On the day I covered my best friend’s night shift at the hotel. When a drifter reeking of alcohol came to book a room, my best friend repeatedly warned me to give him the room in the furthest corner. I figured the drifter might get belligerently drunk, so I followed her instructions and handed him that key. But the next day, I was cyberbullied and trending online. Netizens were screaming for me to pay with my life. Only then did I learn that a girl was already staying in that room. The drifter, given the wrong room number, raped her that night. Unable to bear the humiliation, the girl jumped off the building and killed herself. I tried to defend myself, but my best friend jumped out to testify against me: “I am the receptionist at this hotel. I testify that she was jealous of the girl’s beauty, so she purposely gave the wrong room number to let the drifter rape her!” Blocked and hunted by furious netizens, I was eventually hacked to death by the girl’s emotionally broken family members. After I died, my best friend married my husband, and they became a loving couple. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend asked me to cover her night shift. “Front desk, get me a room. I’m staying here tonight!” The familiar voice of the drifter rang in my ears. I jolted awake, looking at the familiar layout of the hotel lobby. I checked the time displayed on my phone. In that moment, I was certain I had been reborn. Reborn to the exact day my best friend, Megan, asked me to cover her night shift. In my previous life, I agreed to Megan’s request and followed her strict instructions, giving the drifter the room tucked away in the deepest corner of the hotel. It turned out that a young girl had already checked into that room. Because I gave the room to the drifter, he used the wrong room number to slip in and rape the girl. In the end, unable to bear the trauma and humiliation, the girl leaped from the highest balcony of the hotel, ending her young life. The incident blew up incredibly fast. That very day, I was doxxed and became the number one trending topic online. I tried to defend myself, saying I was just doing a favor and following instructions. But Megan, the best friend who caused me to issue the wrong room number, stepped out to accuse me: “I am the receptionist at this hotel, and Harper is my coworker. I am stepping forward to testify that she purposely gave the wrong room number because she was jealous of the victim’s looks!” “To ruin a girl in the prime of her life for your own selfish, jealous desires—aren’t you ashamed? I am disgusted to have worked with you!” Megan’s words completely ignited the internet’s fury. Walking down the street, I was mobbed by pedestrians. Ultimately, I was cornered by the girl’s family and hacked to death in the street. And my husband? He firmly stated that I deserved to die and even provided a public statement asking the DA for leniency toward the girl’s family, refusing to press charges. Furthermore, right after I died, before my body was even cold, he proposed to Megan. The two of them went on to live a happy, blissful life. Opening my eyes again, I was back to the day Megan asked me to take her night shift. Recalling everything from my past life, I knew I couldn’t repeat the same mistakes. So, I firmly rejected the drifter’s request for a room: “I’m sorry, sir, but we are completely booked for the night.” 2 Hearing my refusal, the drifter at the counter snapped back with a disgruntled tone: “You screwing with me, bitch? I booked on your hotel app, and it clearly shows you have empty rooms. Why the hell aren’t you letting me stay?” Saying this, he pointed angrily at the successful booking screen on his phone app. “I’m telling you, I’m staying at this hotel tonight. I don’t care what anyone says, I’m staying!” The memory of being hacked to death in my past life flooded my brain. I clenched my jaw and said: “I apologize, sir. The app is experiencing a glitch. We are genuinely fully booked!” But the drifter wouldn’t listen to my explanation. Relentless, he dialed the customer service number listed on the app: “If you won’t give me a room, I’ll call customer service and report your ass!” The call connected, and Megan’s voice came through the other end: “Hello, how can I help you?” The drifter replied: “I booked a room on your hotel app, but your front desk insists there are no rooms and won’t let me check in. I don’t care, you need to fix this for me right now!” “I’m so sorry, sir. I will handle this. Please hand the phone to the front desk staff, and let me speak with her!” Following Megan’s instructions, the drifter handed the phone to me. As soon as I said hello, Megan’s scolding voice came through: “Harper, what is wrong with you? You can’t just intentionally discriminate against a customer and refuse them a room based on their appearance! I’m looking at the system and there are empty rooms. Give him room 301!” At this point, I had no choice but to agree: “Fine, I understand. I’ll get him checked in right now!” Seeing me agree, the drifter hung up the phone. But I didn’t listen to Megan and give him room 301. Instead, I gave him room 312, which was very far away from 301. During the process, I pulled up the camera on my phone, making sure that my entire operation was recorded on video. After the drifter took the room card and left, I safely saved the recorded video. The heavy boulder in my chest finally dropped. Breathing a sigh of relief, I thought to myself: This time, the little girl’s safety and my own life are finally secured. During my shift, my husband Tyler sent me several texts, repeatedly reminding me to work hard on my shift. After getting my replies, he seemed completely reassured, telling me he’d take me out for a big dinner when I got home tomorrow. Looking at his texts, I couldn’t help but sneer inwardly. Based on everything I learned after my death in my previous life, Megan couldn’t come to work today because she was busy sleeping with Tyler. He was texting me to ensure I couldn’t come home and catch them in the act, and to make sure his and Megan’s plan went off without a hitch. Married for three years, I thought we were a loving couple. Instead, he had meticulously schemed with my closest best friend to push me into an early grave. It wasn’t until I died that I finally saw clearly just how badly the two people I trusted most wanted me dead. The next day, when it was time for the shift change, I packed my things and prepared to go home. Unexpectedly, the moment I stepped out of the hotel doors, a woman dressed in black rushed straight at me. She shoved me hard to the ground and, before I could react, slapped me fiercely across the face. Her expression was filled with grief and rage: “You vicious bitch! You killed my daughter!” “If you hadn’t given out the wrong room number and let that vagrant into her room, how could she have jumped off the building from the trauma?!” “Go to hell! Pay for my daughter’s life!” The sheer force of her slap knocked me back against the glass doors. My ears were ringing, my vision spun. Fighting to stay conscious, I saw that behind the woman were two burly men carrying the girl’s dead body. Terrified, I scrambled to my feet and backed away. This woman was the girl’s mother—the exact same woman who had hacked me to death in my previous life. The girl still committed suicide? But I clearly gave the drifter a completely different room number this time. Why was the outcome exactly the same as my last life? What the hell was going on?! I felt like my brain was going to explode! 3 Before I even had time to say anything, I saw my husband Tyler and my best friend Megan enter my line of sight and march right up to me. Tyler glared at me, his face pale with furious self-righteousness as he yelled: “Harper, how could you cause a young girl’s death just because you mixed up a room number?” “How can you be so careless at your job?!” Just like in my previous life, Tyler couldn’t wait to point the finger at me, desperate to brand me with this crime. I smoothed out the wrinkles in my clothes, staring coldly at him. “I don’t even know what happened yet, and you’re already in a rush to convict me. If people didn’t know better, they’d think I was your sworn enemy, not your wife!” My words were direct and sarcastic. A flash of unease crossed Tyler’s face, but not wanting to lose face, he doubled down aggressively: “It’s all over the internet! I woke up this morning to see you trending online for giving out the wrong room number and driving a girl to suicide!” Following right behind him, Megan chimed in: “Harper, they’ve brought the body right to the door. Are you still going to deny it? The damage is done. You’re better off showing a good attitude, trying to make amends, and apologizing. Stop being so stubborn!” I studied the two of them with a frosty gaze. The physical distance between Megan and Tyler was incredibly intimate; they were subconsciously leaning toward each other. Did they think I was a dead woman walking, so they didn’t even bother hiding it anymore? Megan looked at me with a faint gleam of triumph in her eyes, looking at me like a defeated opponent. It was then I remembered—it was the exact same in my past life. In the subsequent media interviews, Megan firmly told everyone that I deliberately gave out the wrong room number because I was jealous of the girl’s beauty. Her words had nailed the coffin shut on my guilt, leaving me no chance to ever clear my name. These two were so disgusting it made my stomach turn. I snapped right back at them: “The truth isn’t even established yet, and you two are in such a rush to play internet judges with the online mob? Believing whatever the wind blows in, mindlessly joining the circus? Are you that desperate to step over my dead body and take my place?” My words made Megan panic. She hadn’t expected me to confront her so bluntly. Seeing Megan’s eyes turn red from my retort, Tyler looked at me with even more anger: “If you didn’t do anything wrong, why would the victim’s mother track you down? Megan is just looking out for you, and you’re biting her head off! Since when did you become so unreasonable?!” I looked at them expressionlessly and countered: “I won’t confess to something I didn’t do. Stop opening your mouths and trying to condemn me from some moral high ground!” Hearing my firm denial of mixing up the room numbers, the victim’s mother grew even more infuriated: “You bitch, you still won’t admit your mistake? Fine, then I’ll beat a confession out of you!” “My daughter just advanced to the finals of the International Piano Competition! She had a bright future ahead of her, and she lost her life because of your ‘mistake’!” “I worked my fingers to the bone raising her, and just as things were looking up, you destroyed my only hope! I’m going to kill you!” She lunged at me, trying to choke me. I quickly pulled out my phone and shouted: “Because the drifter checking in was dead drunk, I was afraid something might happen. So when I assigned the room and checked him in, I recorded a video as proof that I did NOT give him the wrong room number!” “I can prove my innocence, but I am also calling the police. I suspect the people exposing me online are directly connected to the truth of this incident. Furthermore, since Megan insisted I cover her shift yesterday, I have reason to suspect Megan is associated with the vagrant and deliberately colluded to frame me!” Hearing my words, Megan’s face went ghost-white: “I didn’t! Harper, don’t you dare slander me!” I gave her an icy glare: “We’ll find out the truth the moment the police bring the vagrant here for questioning!” 4 After making the call, the police arrived quickly. Along with them was the drifter, wearing handcuffs. I sized up the drifter, then turned to the officer beside him: “Officer, I’d like to ask this man a few questions.” The officer nodded, signaling I could proceed. I looked at the drifter and asked: “I clearly gave you room 312 yesterday, which is very far from the girl’s room, 301. Why did you have the key to 301 and use it to enter her room and assault her?” This was the one thing I couldn’t understand, the anomaly that persisted even after I changed my actions in this life. As I asked the question, Megan’s expression beside me grew extremely anxious. It seemed this matter definitely had something to do with her. Faced with my question, the drifter narrowed his eyes, sized me up, and said nonchalantly: “I don’t know nothing about no 312. I went into the room number you gave me. I had too much to drink yesterday. When I walked in and saw that woman, I thought it was my wife. What’s wrong with sleeping with my own wife?” Megan let out a visible sigh of relief after hearing the drifter’s words. She immediately turned to me and said: “Harper, what else is there to argue? The man himself said he went into the room number you gave him. If you really gave him 312, how could he have taken the keycard and opened the door to 301?!” “Just confess already. Stop wasting everyone’s time. If you confess early, maybe you can get a lighter sentence! Look at how pitiful the girl’s mother is—doesn’t your conscience hurt?” The girl’s mother became highly emotional upon hearing this. She rushed forward, wanting to hit me: “You bitch! The facts are right in front of you, and you still want to argue?! I’ll beat you to death to pay for my daughter’s life!” “You ruined decades of my hard work. My daughter died full of hatred before she even got to see the beauty of the world. You have to go down there and apologize to her!” She lunged forward to attack me. The police reached out to hold her back, and I retreated a few steps, holding my phone high and shouting loudly: “The video on my phone proves I didn’t give the wrong room number! I assigned the drifter room 312, and I handed him the keycard for 312!” Megan fanned the flames: “Videos can be faked! The man already confessed he went into the room you assigned and opened it with the keycard you handed him! You’re still putting up a dying struggle. Do you want the victim to have no peace?!” Sure enough, her words fueled the mother’s rage. She became even more furious, fighting desperately to break free from the police’s grip to get to me. My survival instinct kicked in, and I dodged toward a safer spot. During the chaotic scuffle, the white sheet covering the girl’s body slipped down a few inches. My eyes were drawn to it, and I immediately spotted several sharp anomalies. While dodging the mother’s attacks, I pointed loudly at the girl’s corpse: “Didn’t you all say she committed suicide by jumping? Then what is that?!” Everyone’s gaze followed my finger. Upon seeing the sight, their jaws dropped in shock. 5 On the girl’s corpse, there were deep strangulation marks around her neck, and the bruises of fingernails gripping her hands. “The ligature and strangulation marks on her neck have turned a dark, bruised purple. The marks on her hands also prove she struggled violently while she was alive. If she had such a strong will to survive, why would she jump off a building?” I made my judgment based on the physical marks. This was my crucial chance to clear my name, and I had to seize it. So I continued: “I request the police call a medical examiner to conduct an autopsy! We need to find the girl’s true cause of death and catch the real killer so the deceased can truly rest in peace!” The police agreed to my request and immediately contacted a forensics team to wait at the precinct. Consequently, our entire group was taken down to the police station. After we finished a series of statements, the medical examiner brought the autopsy results into the interrogation room: “We examined the victim’s body. There are multiple injuries on her hands and torso, indicating she suffered extremely brutal abuse before death. She was forcefully strangled by the perpetrator during a final struggle. Therefore, the fatal wound is the strangulation mark on her neck.” “Furthermore, the head trauma and multiple bone fractures on the victim’s body were all inflicted post-mortem! The skin tissue found under the victim’s fingernails belongs to the vagrant suspect!” The medical examiner’s findings proved my theory was correct. The drifter was the real murderer! Originally, raping the girl would have only landed him a rape charge, but with these autopsy results, he was now facing first-degree murder! The results shocked everyone present. The girl’s mother was devastated with grief. She had thought her daughter committed suicide by jumping, never expecting that the truth was she had been strangled to death after suffering inhumane torture. The mother broke down. She rushed over and viciously slapped the drifter several times: “You monster! My daughter was only eighteen! How could you do something so cruel to her?!” “If this hotel receptionist hadn’t fought to prove her innocence, my daughter would have died with a horrific injustice!” The mother then looked at Megan. As if realizing something, a fierce look entered her eyes. She marched over and slapped Megan across the face: “And you, you bitch! You kept stirring the pot, trying to pin the blame on the receptionist, using my daughter as a tool to spread rumors! Are you in cahoots with this vagrant?!” At this point, Megan couldn’t care less about framing me: “I just wanted the killer brought to justice to give the girl peace! I don’t even know this homeless man!” Her tone was frantic and panicked as she desperately denied any connection to the drifter. Right then, my phone chimed. A friend I had asked to run a background check had sent over the information. Earlier that morning, I had noticed Megan left her WhatsApp web session logged in on the front desk computer. It contained a chat log between her and someone named “Missy Kensington.” One specific line stood out: “Don’t worry, I will definitely eliminate your competitor and show you my sincerity!” This caught my attention. The timestamp of that message was right after the dead girl checked into the hotel. So, I spoke directly to the investigating officer: “I have a piece of evidence investigated by a friend. A few days ago, Megan was in contact with the daughter of local billionaire Mr. Kensington. Missy Kensington happens to be an International Piano Competition contestant, competing for the exact same finalist spot as the deceased girl!” “Megan wanted to curry favor with the Kensington family. Her ‘sincerity’ in pledging loyalty to the wealthy heiress was, I suspect, arranging for the drifter to assault the girl!” I handed my phone to the police, showing the video my friend had pulled from a nearby alley’s security camera. It clearly showed Megan talking and exchanging items with the drifter.

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Mom held her in her arms, her eyes red from crying, while Dad swore to make up for lost time: “My precious girl, whatever you want, it’s yours.” She just pointed at me, her face the picture of innocence: “I want my big sister to go back to her own home, too.” She thought I was just some entitled villainess who had stolen her golden spoon. But she entirely missed how the color drained from my family’s faces the moment those words left her mouth. [1] When I rushed back for the family dinner, I saw my mom clutching a scrawny girl, weeping as if her heart had been ripped out. Even my tough-as-nails dad was wiping away tears. Mom fussed over her, checking her from head to toe. “Mia, Mommy finally found you.” “It’s my fault I didn’t keep a closer eye on you. You’ve suffered so much out there.” The girl’s identity was obvious. She was the biological daughter my parents had accidentally lost years ago. While I was still studying her features, she looked at me timidly. “Mommy, who is that?” She shrank deeper into my mom’s embrace, looking like a frightened little deer. Mom gently stroked her hair and said softly, “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. That’s your big sister.” Then she turned to me. “Chloe, this is your sister. Her name is Mia now.” I nodded, but when I met her eyes, I caught a fleeting, inexplicable flash of hostility. She hesitated, acting as if she couldn’t believe it. “Mommy, when did I get a sister?” Seeing my mom struggle for words, I stepped up and explained, “I’m adopted.” Mia looked confused. Shaking her head, she muttered softly, “How can that be?” “You already have a child… so what does that make me?” Tears began to cascade down her cheeks, soaking into my mom’s blouse. Mom panicked and immediately started coaxing her. “You are our precious baby, of course!” “Your sister is family, too. It just means there’s one more person in this house to love you.” Mia stared blankly at the hardwood floor, murmuring to herself. “You didn’t want me anymore. You got another kid, so you definitely won’t treat me well.” Her pitiful demeanor, combined with the tragic backstory of living on the streets for years, wrung every last tear from my parents. Even I felt a little bad for her. I started to tell the truth, “Hey, don’t cry. Actually, I’m—” Mia’s wailing instantly drowned me out. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back! I’m just ruining your perfect family of three!” My parents were frantic. They swarmed her with comfort. “Mia, how could you say that?” “You are our flesh and blood. We prayed for this day for years. We are overjoyed! You could never be a burden!” Mia caught her breath, sniffing. “Really?” “Of course!” they nodded vigorously. Having gotten the validation she wanted, she finally smiled through her tears. She nuzzled against Mom’s arm and cooed: “Does that mean I can have whatever I want?” “Anything!” But in the very next second, she pointed straight at me and dropped a bomb: “Then I want my big sister to go back to her own home, too.” The atmosphere in the room instantly froze. She shook my mom’s arm expectantly, but Mom awkwardly pulled away. Realizing things weren’t going according to her script, Mia looked panicked. “Mommy, Daddy… did I say something wrong?” Dad cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I’m the luckiest man in the world to have two daughters. Let’s just keep things as they are.” Mom chimed in, “Exactly. You just got back. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask your sister.” Mia hadn’t expected her demand to be shut down so decisively. She instinctively shot a glare at me. I just gave her a sweet smile. “Sure.” Then I turned on my heel and walked right out the front door. Behind me, I could hear Mom screaming in a total panic, “Chloe! Chloe, come back here!” [2] I got in my car and sped off, driving straight until I parked in front of a sprawling, magnificent estate. The butler politely opened the door for me. Just as Mia wished, I had gone back to my “own” home. The owners of this estate were nominally my aunt and uncle, but legally and biologically, they were my real parents. It was true that I was adopted by my current family. But strictly speaking, it was a family transfer. Years ago, when my adoptive dad lost his daughter, he nearly lost his mind. He begged my biological parents to let him adopt me to ease the grief. My bio parents refused at first, and my older brother cried, begging them not to let me go. But seeing my adoptive parents wasting away into literal skeletons from the heartbreak, my bio parents finally caved and let me live with them. Mia thought I was a cuckoo bird stealing her nest, basking in the love and luxury that rightfully belonged to her. She was the real heiress of that house, sure. But I was no peasant, either. My biological father’s empire had exploded over the last decade. He was now sitting on billions of dollars in assets. If I hadn’t been adopted out, my life would be a hundred times more lavish than it already was. Thinking back to the raw resentment in Mia’s eyes, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Looked like I wouldn’t be having a peaceful life anytime soon. The private chef saw me come in and immediately got to work. By the time my adoptive parents rushed over from their tearful reunion, I was sitting at the dining table, leisurely eating fresh lobster. Mom ran over, frantically grabbing my hand. “Chloe, you drove way too fast! That was so dangerous!” Dad didn’t waste a second either. He sat right down and started cracking lobster claws for me. “My poor baby, you must be so upset. Mia just got back and doesn’t know how things work yet. Please don’t take it to heart.” I raised an eyebrow. “So I should just stay there and let her hate me?” Mom jumped. “Who dares to hate you?! I’ll be the first one to put a stop to it!” Dad added, “You saying things like that is breaking our hearts, kiddo.” I feigned a sigh. “She told me to go to my own home. I figured I’d stay here for a couple of days so I don’t upset her further.” “Absolutely not! Mom will be worried sick if you aren’t home,” she said, practically trying to pull me out of my chair. Dad placed a massive chunk of lobster meat on my plate, his voice impossibly soft. “You are our precious daughter. Please, come home with us.” I chewed the lobster, nodding in satisfaction. I had tested the waters enough. It was clear they truly loved me. If they had ignored me the second they found their bio daughter, I would have just let them have their happy family reunion and stayed here. I made them patiently wait until I finished my meal before letting them escort me back. As my parents flanked me on our way through the front door, I casually glanced up. I saw someone glaring daggers at me from the second-floor balcony. I smiled. Mia, I still win this round. [3] Truthfully, I didn’t have much ill will toward her. She was my adoptive parents’ biological daughter, which made her my cousin. Blood is thicker than water. When we first met, I actually felt a lot of sympathy for her. But her behavior since stepping foot in this house completely killed that vibe. If she didn’t want to acknowledge me as her sister, I wasn’t going to bend over backwards to kiss her ring. But I severely underestimated Mia’s ambition and her shady little tactics. Every single day, she tried to pull off some petty scheme to make me lose my temper, hoping to usurp my place in the household. She constantly played the “sweet, innocent angel” in front of Mom, looking at me smugly whenever she got a compliment. She went out of her way to do chores for the maids, trying to prove how “humble” and different she was compared to me. I just watched her coldly, refusing to take the bait. She was a girl who had grown up starved for affection, so she was desperate for the spotlight. I, on the other hand, had been showered in love since the day I was born. Her tacky little tricks were beneath me, and I couldn’t be bothered to entertain them. But after the hundredth time she tried to pull a fast one on me, I finally got annoyed enough to call my biological dad, who was out of the country on business. After hearing me complain, he immediately threatened to fly back, legally transfer my guardianship back to him, and take me away so I wouldn’t have to suffer. It took me half an hour to calm him down, and he ended up insisting on buying me a new sports car to make up for it. A few days later, the luxury dealership called. I headed over to test drive it, in a great mood. But the moment I reached the showroom doors, I saw Mia arguing with the staff, flanked by a squad of her new sycophant friends. I could hear her shrieking from fifty feet away. “You minimum-wage losers! Do you know who I am? How dare you block my way!” Her little minions echoed her: “Open your blind eyes! This is the eldest daughter of the Sterling family! Move!” “She’s richer than your entire bloodline!” “Get your manager out here now!” I was still trying to figure out why she was even here when the general manager, Mr. Davis, hurried over with a warm smile to escort me to the VIP lounge. As I walked past Mia, she pointed at me and shrieked, “Why does she get to go in?!” I looked at her like she was the punchline to a joke. “Because I’m a Platinum VIP, sweetie. Of course I can go in.” Mia bit her lip stubbornly, glaring at the stressed-out employee. “So what if it’s a VIP card? How much is it? Ring me up for ten of them!” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Mia, you can’t just buy a Platinum VIP status here.” Her friends obviously didn’t believe me, crossing their arms arrogantly. “What stupid VIP rule is that? Our Mia is a billionaire heiress. She has infinite money.” “If you have it, Mia can get it with a snap of her fingers!” Mr. Davis couldn’t take the disrespect anymore. He cleared his throat. “Our Platinum VIP tier is by invitation only, exclusively for clients who have spent over thirty million dollars here consecutively over the past five years.” [4] Mia’s face instantly flushed beet red. Her eyes were a cocktail of jealousy, humiliation, and pure hatred directed at me. The allowance my parents gave her was generous, but nowhere near enough for her to burn thirty million on cars. Her friends tried to argue, but Mia stopped them, muttering bitterly, “Big deal. You just used my parents’ money to buy those cars anyway.” Seeing her choke on her own pride put me in a fantastic mood. I ignored her and followed Mr. Davis into the showroom. But just as I reached the custom Porsche my bio dad had ordered for me, Mia darted out from behind me and shoved me aside. “That’s the one! I’m taking it!” My face turned to ice. I stepped between her and the car. “Who gave you permission to touch this?” Mia blinked her eyes, playing dumb. “Sister, why are you so mad?” “Are you saying this is your car?” She lifted her chin, puffing up like a proud peacock. “Of course it’s mine. It’s a welcome-home gift from my uncle.” Her little squad immediately chimed in: “Only the real biological niece gets that kind of treatment. Keep crying about it!” “You’re just a trashy squatter in a luxury penthouse! How dare you try to compete with Mia!” Seeing how confident they were, I honestly had a moment of doubt. Did my bio dad actually buy her an identical car to be nice? But this was a limited edition. There was only one in the entire state. Mia gleefully continued her victory lap. “If you don’t believe me, call the butler! He just told me the car ordered for ‘the Sterling daughter’ arrived, so I came down to pick it up!” “Did you hear that? The Sterling daughter. Not the cheap knock-off!” The meanest girl in her group spat on the floor near my shoes. “Hear that, fake?! You shameless thief, you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as Mia!” “You’re like a rat, trying to steal everything you can get your claws on.” I was trembling with rage. I pulled out my phone to call my bio dad, but it went straight to voicemail. Mia got even more animated. “I know Mom and Dad raised you, so they love you. I won’t fight you for their affection.” “But this car is a gift from my uncle to his actual blood relative. Are you really going to try and steal this from me too, Sister?” Mia had completely redefined the concept of shamelessness. She played the innocent victim at home, but turned into a tyrannical monster the second she stepped outside. Just as the standoff hit a boiling point, Mr. Davis walked over, holding a leather-bound folder. Mia’s friends lit up and rushed over to intercept him. But Mr. Davis completely bypassed them. He walked straight to me. “Ms. Sterling, here are the keys and the final paperwork. Thank you again for your continued business.” [4] The ownership of the car was suddenly crystal clear. Mia stared at the keys in shock, her eyes bulging. “Impossible!” “You must have made a mistake! I’m the real daughter of the Sterling family!” Her dumbest friend turned on Mr. Davis. “How could you give the car to this imposter?!” I ignored the screeching, flipping open the contract and pointing to the signature line. “Read it and weep. Client: Chloe Sterling.” Mia shook her head, still refusing to accept reality. I simply pushed past her, climbed into the driver’s seat, and left nothing but the roar of the engine echoing in the showroom. Not long after I got home, I heard muffled sobbing echoing from the living room. I walked out to find Mia buried in Mom’s chest, crying a river, acting like she had just survived a war crime. I had to admire her acting skills. I clicked my tongue. “Give the girl an Oscar.” Mia caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye. Sniffling, with red-rimmed eyes, she choked out, “Mommy, does Sister hate me?” “First, she had the staff at the dealership block me from entering, totally humiliating our family in public.” “And then, even though Uncle bought that car for me, his real niece, she forced them to say it was hers.” Hearing the words “real niece,” Dad immediately perked up. “Chloe, what is going on with the car?” I calmly recounted the entire incident, leaving no detail out. When I finished, Dad looked directly at Mia and said bluntly, “Your sister is telling the truth. Your uncle bought that car specifically for her.” “Daddy?” Mia looked at him in total disbelief. Mom tried to smooth things over. “Mia, sweetheart, stop making a fuss. That car doesn’t belong to you. When your uncle comes back from his trip, I’m sure he’ll buy you a nice gift too.” Mia refused to drop it. She mumbled hesitantly, “But… that car was incredibly expensive.” “Since Sister isn’t really a blood member of this family, is it really appropriate for her to accept such a lavish gift from Uncle?” Before the words fully left her mouth, both of my parents’ faces darkened. The room went dead silent. Mom dropped her gentle tone. “Watch your mouth. Chloe will always be a member of this family.” Dad’s face was ice cold. “Your uncle adores Chloe. He sends her a massive allowance every single month. Buying her a car is completely normal for him.” Mia slumped over in defeat. Her face was a chaotic painting of shock, jealousy, and bitter resentment. It twisted her pretty features into something quite ugly. She thought that because she watched a few soap operas, she knew how rich families worked. She assumed they were cold-blooded monsters who only cared about DNA. But my parents had poured their hearts into raising me for twenty years. Plus, I literally shared their bloodline. How could a few cheap words break a bond like that? Mia clearly thought my parents were just taking pity on me, and that she was the “bigger person” for letting me have the car. She tearfully apologized, promising she wouldn’t “fight” me anymore. Once she finally shut up, I turned to the butler standing quietly in the corner. “Thomas. You’ve served the Sterling family for many years. I think it’s time you retired. Go collect your severance package and enjoy your golden years.” The usually stoic butler snapped his head up in shock. “Miss, are you firing me?” I didn’t answer. I just waited for my parents to back me up. Thomas looked desperately at them. “Ma’am! Sir!” Mom’s tone was indifferent. “If Chloe says you should leave, then go pack your things.” Dad walked over and patted my shoulder. “Chloe, don’t let these people upset you.” I swept a cold gaze over the rest of the staff. Every single one of them dropped their heads, terrified to meet my eyes. Perfect. People needed to learn how to read the room.

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I heard that the company heiress received fifty million and ten percent of the shares as a reward from her parents upon graduation. I sat at my cubicle, munching on leftover bread from the day before, my eyes wide with envy. I calculated in my head: even if she did nothing from now on, just collecting interest and dividends, she could still make over thirty million annually! As a pathetic and humble office drone, getting paid without working was my lifelong dream. However, that day, the chairman’s family found me. They said I was their biological daughter, who had been missing for twenty-three years. My best friend warned me, “Those elite families have a lot of rules; you won’t be able to handle it. Besides, they’ve raised Serena for over twenty years; they won’t have any affection for you.” I offered her a sly smile and told her, “It’s okay. I’m not after affection, just money.” 1. I was brought back to the Sterling family mansion. On the way, the butler explained the general situation of the Sterling family to me. The Sterling family had three children: the eldest son, James, the second son, Matthew, and the youngest daughter, Serena. After I went missing, Mrs. Sterling was heartbroken, so she adopted a girl from an orphanage, who is now Serena. Serena was smart, sensible, and had good grades, so she enjoyed the love of her parents and brothers from a young age. As soon as I got out of the car, I was blocked at the entrance by the Sterling family’s second son, Matthew. He scanned me from head to toe with an unfriendly gaze, then squinted at me and asked, “Are you Sophia Sterling?” I nodded and pointed to the butler beside me. “I suppose so; that’s what they told me. But you can also call me Chelsea, my original name.” He glanced at me, snorted disdainfully. “Country bumpkin. Not even a fraction as good as Serena.” “Give up. Even if you’re back, you’ll never replace Serena. The Sterling family will only ever have one daughter, and that’s Serena! There’s nothing about you that can compare to her!” “I’m warning you, you’d better be cooperative and polite to Serena. Don’t do anything that makes me dislike you, or else, I have plenty of ways to make you disappear!” With that, without waiting for my reply, he turned and entered the villa. I rolled my eyes at his retreating back. Who cares if he likes me or not? I’m here to make money, not to win his favor! Once I get the money, I won’t need him to kick me out; I’ll leave myself! Serena, as an adopted daughter, received fifty million and ten percent of the shares upon graduation. It wouldn’t be too much for me, the biological daughter, to get an extra ten million, right? As I was about to push the door open, it was pulled open from the inside. A girl roughly my age met my gaze, then quickly forced a smile, eagerly taking my hand and asking, “You must be Sophia, right?” “Come in quickly, Mom and Dad are waiting for you!” As expected, this was the legendary Serena Sterling, known for her high emotional and intellectual intelligence. She ushered me into the living room. On the sofa, an elegant middle-aged couple immediately stood up. Upon seeing me, Mrs. Sterling froze for a moment. Then she slowly walked up to me, her fingers trembling slightly as she touched my face. “Sophia… is it really my Sophia?” With that, she embraced me tightly, overcome with emotion. “Mom finally found you.” “How have you been all these years, out there? It’s Mom’s fault…” I had prepared myself for an unwelcoming reception, but suddenly being embraced by Mrs. Sterling like this filled me with a mix of emotions. I grew up in an orphanage, never experiencing any parental affection. As I pondered how to respond appropriately, a sudden crash of breaking glass came from behind me, mixed with Serena’s yelp. Everyone’s attention immediately shifted. She lay on the floor, clutching her elbow, whimpering, “Mom, it hurts so much…” Blood dripped onto the pristine floor. Mrs. Sterling immediately let go of me and rushed over. Her eyes were filled with concern and distress. “Serena!” “Quick! Call a doctor!” Mr. Sterling also rushed over. After seeing what happened, he angrily scolded the surrounding maids. “What are you doing? How could you let Miss Serena serve tea herself?!” Serena quickly pulled him back, explaining, “Dad, it’s not their fault. I wanted to personally pour a cup of tea for Sister, since she’s back.” “It’s my fault, I was too clumsy, I missed a step.” Her weak explanation to the maids, nestled in Mrs. Sterling’s arms, would make anyone pity her. 2 Soon after, the family doctor arrived. After a quick bandaging, Matthew, still worried, insisted on going to the hospital for another check-up. So, the whole family prepared to accompany her to the hospital for more tests. As they were about to leave, Mrs. Sterling suddenly remembered me, standing behind her. She turned, giving me an apologetic look. “Sophia, Mom originally prepared a welcome banquet for you, but this…” Before she could finish, Matthew turned back, grabbed her, and interrupted. “Alright, Mom, what’s with a welcome banquet for a country bumpkin like her? What’s important now is Serena. She’s bleeding so much; aren’t you worried? Let’s go!” Then, two seconds later, I heard a bang as the door was forcefully shut. Suddenly, the enormous villa was left with only me. I sat on the sofa, simply glancing around. Suddenly, my right hand brushed against a book. I looked down and picked it up. It was a photo album. Opening the first page, Serena’s smiling face, holding a coconut, appeared, with a beach island as the background. Next were photos from summer camp, from international competitions, and of everyone celebrating her birthday. Most of the photos were from 2013. In 2013, I was 12 years old, just starting middle school and growing rapidly. The orphanage had many children, so to get more food every day, I would go to the cafeteria after school to help the aunties wash vegetables and assist in the kitchen. While I was still worrying about going hungry, she was vacationing on an island with her parents and brother. Comparing people really kills you. I stayed in the living room until almost midnight, with no sign of anyone returning. After thinking about it, I decided to go back to my old home first. Picking up my bag, I was about to stand up when Mrs. Sterling, with Serena in her arms, opened the door. She looked a little surprised to see me. “Sophia, it’s so late, where are you going?” “It was so late, and you hadn’t returned. I didn’t know where to sleep, so I was going to head home.” Hearing my reply, she paused, her expression apologetic. “Mom completely forgot.” “Hmph, what are you trying to do, playing pitiful!” Matthew scoffed at me. Mrs. Sterling turned back and called out to Aunt Lee, who was behind her. “Aunt Lee, quickly take Sophia to her room to rest.” “Mom, let me take Sister.” Serena stepped forward, volunteering. Mrs. Sterling smiled at her, relieved. “Serena is so thoughtful. Take your sister.” Serena stepped forward, familiarly taking my hand and leading me upstairs. She opened a room on the second floor. “Sister, you can stay in this room.” I looked up. The room was decorated quite warmly and girlishly. Before I could speak, Matthew rushed forward, blocking me. “No! This is Serena’s room! Serena, why would you give your room to this country bumpkin?” “Poor people like her are full of tricks. You’re so kind; don’t let her take advantage of you!” 3 Serena glanced at him, feigning a chiding tone. “Brother, the room Mom prepared earlier isn’t as big as this one. I thought that Sister suffered for so many years outside, and I’ve been happy in her place here for so long, so she should be properly compensated now that she’s back.” “I took Sister’s place. Now it’s time to give it back to her.” Then, she looked at me cautiously. “Sister, you won’t blame me, will you? Don’t worry, I’ll return everything that belongs to you. I’ll give you whatever you want, as long as you don’t make me leave.” “I just love Mom and Dad too much; I can’t bear to leave them…” “…” So, Serena is a ‘green tea’ girl. “Nonsense! What replacement? You are my Walter Sterling’s daughter!” Mr. Sterling had appeared behind us at some point. Hearing Serena’s words, he sharply rebuked her. After speaking, he approached her and stroked her hair. “Silly child, don’t think such things. You were raised by your mother and me. For us, blood relation isn’t that important. You are our most beloved child.” Serena’s eyes welled with tears upon hearing this. She turned and hooked her arm through Mr. Sterling’s, acting coy. “Dad, of course I’m your daughter. I just feel bad for Sister and don’t want to leave you both…” While they were having their father-daughter moment, I walked to the adjacent room and pushed open the door. Good. Although it was a bit smaller than Serena’s room, it was bright and clean, infinitely better than where I used to live. “I’ll take this room.” Serena froze, still wanting to persuade me, but I interrupted. “Don’t worry, I don’t take other people’s things.” With that, before they could react, I took my luggage into the room. Reviewing the day’s events, I realized that aside from Mrs. Sterling being somewhat amiable towards me, everyone else seemed less than welcoming. I heard that Sterling Industries was originally Mrs. Sterling’s family business. Mr. Sterling had married into the family as a live-in son-in-law. After the old man passed away, Mrs. Sterling, having no interest in business, largely handed over management to Mr. Sterling. So, in this family, Mrs. Sterling still held considerable sway. This meant that in this household, mainly currying favor with Mrs. Sterling should be enough. People die for wealth, birds die for food. I’ll just consider this a job. I’ll give myself one year. Get sixty million and shares, then I’m out of here! The next morning, a knock sounded at my door. It was Aunt Lee. She said James was back, and Mrs. Sterling wanted me downstairs. When I got downstairs, the family was happily dividing the gifts James had brought back. James was momentarily surprised to see me. Then he picked up a gift from the table and handed it to me. “You must be Sophia, right? This is a gift I brought back from abroad, the same as Serena’s.” “Thank you.” I politely accepted it. It seemed he was slightly more friendly towards me than Matthew. Opening it, I found a diamond necklace. It looked like it was worth a lot. This big brother is quite generous. Note to self: include him in the ‘curry favor’ strategy! Just as I was lost in thought about when I could sell it for cash, Serena sweetly called out to someone nearby. “Brandon, can I come to your birthday party the day after tomorrow?” Only then did I notice a stranger sitting on the sofa. He was quite handsome and had an extraordinary demeanor, most likely another well-to-do second-generation rich kid. No wonder Serena was so demure. Perhaps sensing my curiosity, James thoughtfully introduced me. “This is my good friend, Brandon Hayes.” Brandon heard this, turned, and met my gaze. In a fleeting moment, a flash of shock appeared in his eyes. However, a moment later, his expression changed. He smiled, waving at me. “Hello, Sophia.” With those words, Serena’s smile froze.

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The day I broke up with Vance Sterling. He accepted the fact of my departure very calmly. When people asked him if he would ever regret it, he scoffed lightly: “I never regret anything.” He truly didn’t regret it. He even wired me a massive, multi-million dollar breakup fee. I took it without hesitation. I thought our history was wiped clean. But later, when I was at the movies with my new boyfriend… A figure of pure, arrogant elegance sat down next to us. He was dressed in head-to-toe bespoke couture, looking completely out of place in a noisy, sticky-floored theater. It was Vance Sterling. 1 It had been six months. I never expected to see Vance again. Especially not in a crowded, noisy movie theater. The man in front of me wore a custom-tailored suit worth more than a luxury car. He sat bolt upright, as if he weren’t in a standard fifteen-dollar-a-ticket cinema, but in the spacious, sunlit boardroom of a Wall Street skyscraper. I blinked, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. But I looked closer. It was really him. Just as my mind was reeling, a crisp, clear voice came from beside me: “Maya, what are you looking at?” I snapped back to reality, withdrawing my shocked gaze, and looked at Liam beside me. Liam Hayes was three years younger than me. Young, energetic, and full of life. His dark eyes were remarkably bright, even in the pitch-black theater. I shook my head. “Nothing.” “Oh.” He was so sweet and trusting. Without a shred of suspicion, he went back to happily watching the screen. But right at that moment, the man who hadn’t turned his head this whole time suddenly looked over, catching my gaze. His eyes were endlessly deep. The light from the movie screen reflected in his pupils, casting shifting shadows over my reflection in them. A dark, dangerous undercurrent seemed to flow there. My gaze faltered, and I quickly looked away. 2 Back then, I was the one who chased Vance. There was no complex reason. He was just too handsome. Plus, when I was being mocked by the wealthy kids for applying for a financial aid grant, he stepped in and helped me. The boy in his sharp prep-school blazer snatched my application form back from the kids mocking me and placed that thin piece of paper gently into my palm. “There’s nothing shameful about this. Go turn it in.” His voice was flat, just stating a calm fact. But I froze. My fragile, sensitive heart felt like it had been plucked like a guitar string, blooming with an unexpected warmth. That was the first time my heart fluttered for him. From then on, I chased him like I was chasing the sun, even following him to the same Ivy League university. I chased him for four full years before I finally managed to pull this untouchable elite down from his pedestal. When I confessed to him, my face burning red, the violent pounding in my chest was something I can still feel to this day. But he didn’t actually like me. Being with me seemed to just be a matter of indifference to him—something he could take or leave. Still, I was secretly thrilled for a long time. I thought that someone as outstanding as him was finally mine. But for the three years we were together, he treated me with nothing but cold indifference. I still remember my birthday. One of his trust-fund frat brothers had his eye on me and smiled at him. “Vance, where’d you find this little girlfriend? She’s pretty gorgeous.” Saying that, he reached out to touch my face. I instinctively dodged. Vance frowned and stopped him. “Show some respect.” Seeing this, the guy backed off awkwardly, keeping his hands to himself. But before I could even breathe a sigh of relief, Vance’s phone rang. I didn’t know what was said on the other end, but he suddenly stood up. Confused, I tried to grab his sleeve. “Where are you going?” But I missed. The fabric slipped right through my fingertips. His tone took on a blaming edge. “There’s an emergency at the company. I have to go.” With that, he left without looking back. Leaving me completely alone in the VIP lounge. The guy who had bad intentions toward me let out a cold laugh. “You actually thought Vance cared about you? He’s just playing around. Otherwise, how could he leave you here so easily? Why don’t you ditch him and get with me?” I broke out in a cold sweat. My immediate instinct was to leave, but he grabbed my arm. Thankfully, there were a few rational people still in the room, and in the ensuing scuffle, I managed to flee the lounge as if running for my life. 3 That birthday was a complete disaster. But that guy’s words kept echoing in my head, like needles piercing me over and over again. At the same time, countless other memories flooded my mind. Like the time I was rear-ended, and the other driver, seeing I was just a young woman, twisted the truth and became incredibly aggressive. I called Vance in a panic, but he just told me to call the insurance company or the cops. He was in a meeting and couldn’t come. Afterwards, seeing I was upset, he bought me an entire set of the latest Tom Ford lipsticks. Or the time I blushed, put on sexy Victoria’s Secret lingerie, and tried to spice things up. Vance’s expression remained ice-cold. He just gripped my waist hard, his voice deep and detached: “I’ll buy you that Birkin bag you liked tomorrow.” I didn’t understand him back then. It wasn’t until much later that I finally woke up. Vance came from old money. From the very first moment we met, it was destined that we were not from the same world. …He had never truly respected me. In his eyes, my passionate, burning love was nothing more than a scheme to get his money. I realized it too late. Without any hesitation, I broke up with him. Vance’s expression was incredibly indifferent. He just said, “Okay.” He sat on the couch, quietly watching me pack my things and leave. He didn’t stop me. From the moment I started packing until I walked out the door, he didn’t say a single word. Later, I heard from mutual acquaintances that a friend asked him: After so many years together, just cutting ties like that, would he regret it? How did he answer? Maintaining that same aloof, aristocratic demeanor, he said: “I never regret anything.” My memories stopped there. Although I didn’t quite understand why Vance was here, I didn’t care to figure it out. Maybe he just had a sudden whim to see a movie. Who cares. Whatever the reason, it had nothing to do with me. But what I didn’t expect was that the hand I had resting on the armrest was suddenly covered by a large, warm hand. At first, I thought it was Liam, so I didn’t pull away. But I quickly realized something was wrong. The hand holding mine was coming from my right side! A jolt went through my body, and I snapped my head to the side. The man’s expression was as indifferent as ever. But tracing down from his sharp jawline and prominent Adam’s apple, my eyes landed on those long, elegant fingers. His hand was resting firmly on top of mine. What kind of psycho trip was he on? I tried to pull my hand back, but he exerted force, and for a moment, I actually couldn’t break free. I started to get angry. Was he doing this on purpose? And right at that exact moment, Liam turned his head toward me— 4 My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Luckily, at the crucial moment, Vance let go of my hand. I wanted to snatch my hand back immediately, but I felt like a sudden, jerky movement would only draw Liam’s attention. So, I forced myself to stay still. Liam’s sweet voice sounded near my ear. “Maya, I’m going to run to the restroom real quick. Be right back.” “Okay.” The movie wasn’t over yet, and the theater was pitch black. As soon as Liam walked away… I stopped holding back. I ripped my hand away, instinctively stood up, and followed him out. —I absolutely did not want to sit next to Vance a second longer. But in my peripheral vision, I saw Vance stand up too. I walked faster and faster, but he still managed to grab my arm as I turned a corner in the hallway. “What are you doing?” I coldly shook off his hand. Caught off guard, he was easily shaken off. A flash of hurt crossed his deep eyes, but he quickly concealed it. His voice was still flat: “Is that your new boyfriend?” I gave a perfunctory nod, thinking to myself: What does it have to do with you? He was the one who said he’d never regret it. What was the point of harassing me now? I was just trying to get away, but he refused to step aside. “How did you meet?” I lost my patience. “None of your business.” Saying that, I turned to walk away. Right then, Liam walked out of the men’s room and spotted me immediately. He walked toward me happily, tossing his paper towel into the trash. He came over and grabbed my hand, his dark eyes sparkling. “Maya, did you come out just to wait for me?” Our fingers had just intertwined when his gaze fell on the man behind me. He let out a surprised gasp: “Vance?” Hearing this, I froze and asked him, “You know him?” Liam didn’t think much of it and nodded naturally. “Yeah, we grew up together. He’s a few years older than me, our families run in the same circles.” I went completely silent. In a flash of lightning, a thought crossed my mind. No wonder Vance suddenly asked how Liam and I met. Was he afraid I was trying to swindle another rich kid for his money? I found it laughable, but I didn’t show it on my face. Liam’s gaze shifted back and forth between us, and finally, he asked curiously: “Why are you two standing together…” It was just the two of us over here. It really was hard to explain. I wanted to say Vance was my ex-boyfriend, but the words got stuck in my throat. What were those three years, really? To me, it was a relationship. But to Vance, maybe it was just a transaction? A sugar baby arrangement? When I brought up the breakup, he didn’t say a word, but the moment I left, he wired me a massive “breakup fee”. Ha. Maybe it wasn’t a breakup fee at all. It was just a severance package to thoroughly end our three years together. My mood suddenly plummeted, and my attitude grew sour. “We went to high school together. Just bumped into each other.” “We’re very close.” The two voices dropped at almost the exact same time. Liam’s expression shifted slightly. 5 Wait, what? I furrowed my brows deeply, looking at the completely composed man across from me. I had no idea what kind of play he was putting on. Just as I was trying to figure out what to say, Liam suddenly leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. He said brightly, “So you’re just high school classmates! I knew it. You like younger guys; you definitely wouldn’t be into Vance’s type.” Saying that, he cast a sideways glance at Vance, whose expression had darkened considerably. As if completely oblivious to the older man’s icy glare, Liam offered enthusiastically, “Vance, we’re going to grab dinner after the movie. Want to tag along?” Then he turned to me with a beaming smile. “Maya, what are you craving? I’ll make the reservation.” “Whatever you want.” Liam was incredibly handsome and sweet. When his dark eyes locked onto you, he looked like an eager golden retriever wagging its tail. When he turned on the charm, it was impossible to say no. Being interrupted by him, the gloomy mood that had settled over me instantly cleared, and a smile broke across my face. Off to the side, Vance stared at us laughing happily. His eyes grew incredibly dark, and his tone was like cracked ice. “No. I have business at the firm. You two go.” Knowing him as well as I did, this attitude meant he was genuinely angry. When we were together, he rarely got angry. Most of the time, he was just apathetic. But back then, because I loved him so much, I would unconsciously monitor his every mood, tracking his joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness. But now? What did his emotions have to do with me? Since he said he was busy, Liam bought it completely. “Alright, we’re heading out then.” I let him lead me away by the hand. I didn’t even notice that the man behind us stood rooted to the spot, lingering for a very long time before finally leaving.

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My mother always said, “Life is a wilderness, and the brave enjoy the world first.” True to her word, she dumped me with a nanny when I was one, spent my elementary school years chasing pop stars across the country, and traveled the globe during my high school years. She said she was herself first, and a mother second. But twenty years later, she was tired. Exhausted from a life on the road, she wanted to settle down and enjoy a peaceful retirement. She demanded I quit my high-paying job far from home and return to serve her as a dutiful daughter. I laughed and told her, “The brave enjoy the world first. I am myself first, and your daughter second.” 1 I don’t think my mother loved me. For as long as I can remember, she and my father were rarely home. I lived in a huge house with only our nanny, Mrs. Garcia. Mrs. Garcia would tell me that my parents missed me very much, but they were just too busy to keep me company. Half-understanding, I would suck my thumb and ask, “What are they busy with?” Mrs. Garcia could never really answer. She just repeated the same lines I’d heard countless times. When Mom comes back, she’ll buy you beautiful clothes. When Mom comes back, she’ll take you to eat all sorts of yummy food. When Mom comes back, you can go to the amusement park as many times as you want. When Mom comes back, she’ll hug you, kiss you, and lift you high in the air. My family wasn’t poor. In fact, in our small town, we were considered wealthy. It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized they weren’t busy making a living like most parents. They were busy chasing celebrities, traveling, seeing the world, and making charitable donations to “realize their life’s value.” Their lives were full and busy; they just didn’t have time to care for me. But as a little girl, I didn’t know any of that. I counted my birthdays, passing them one by one. When I turned eight, Mrs. Garcia had a grandson and had to return to her hometown. My mother came home. That day, I put on my favorite dress, dug out my prettiest pink hair clip, and waited, filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety. But when she saw me, my mother just frowned and snatched the clip out of my hair. “My favorite idol’s official fandom color is blue! You are not allowed to wear pink anymore!” I stared at her blankly. I didn’t know what a fandom color was. I just looked helplessly at my broken hair clip on the floor. Hidden behind my back, my small hand gripped a little pink flower I had picked for her, but I never brought it out. 2 It was the first time I had seen my mother in five years, but she was nothing like the mother I had imagined. She didn’t cook me delicious meals like the moms on TV, nor did she miss her child desperately. She didn’t cook for me. She didn’t buy me new clothes. A new McDonald’s had opened on the corner; all the other kids had been, but I still hadn’t. From start to finish, she didn’t even pat my head. She spent exactly one day making a decision: she was sending me to a boarding school. The day she left, Mrs. Garcia had picked me up from school one last time. My mother’s return had been hasty, and her departure was just as swift. She carried only a small backpack. I dropped to my knees, tears streaming down my face. “Mom, please don’t go. I’ll miss you…” I didn’t want her to leave, even though she hadn’t hugged me, hadn’t taken me to the amusement park, and hadn’t bought me ice cream. My desk mate, Chloe, had told me: “If you don’t want your mom to leave, just beg her! Moms are very soft-hearted. My mom says they can never bear to leave their babies.” Chloe said that’s how it always worked on TV. If a child knelt and cried, the mother would stay. That year, at eight years old, I learned a harsh truth: TV lies. I knelt. I cried. I clung to the hem of her skirt, my nose running, but she left anyway. She pushed me away and quickly got into the car, terrified I would hold her back. Then she rolled down the window halfway and said: “Life is a wilderness, and the brave enjoy the world first. I am myself first, and your mother second.” I was too short to even see her face. All I saw was the black exhaust and the dust kicked up by the car tires. My father, sitting in the passenger seat, didn’t leave a single word for me. Chloe’s mom was a liar too. My mom wasn’t soft-hearted, and she didn’t care about leaving her baby! 3 I became the youngest boarder at my school, and eventually, the one who had been there the longest. Soon, I entered middle school. My parents occasionally came home for a brief visit and occasionally left me some money. In our town’s middle school, many students were “left-behind children” whose parents worked in the cities. The teachers often told us that we had to study hard to make our parents’ hard work worthwhile. I acted like I didn’t care, but secretly, I sat up straighter and studied like my life depended on it. During my early teens, right in the middle of a growth spurt, I quickly developed severe hypoglycemia from chronic malnutrition. The day I fainted in class, the school administrators frantically called my mother. When she answered, her screaming could be heard throughout the entire office. It took her five days to finally show up. She found me at school and slapped me right in front of everyone: “Don’t think I don’t know you’re just doing this for attention! Hypoglycemia? Why don’t I know you have hypoglycemia?!” I lowered my head and begged, “Mom, can you please put some money on my meal card? I really don’t have any money for food. I’m so hungry…” Before I could finish, seeing parents, students, and teachers staring at us, she flew into a humiliated rage. She slapped me across the face again, her shrill voice ringing out: “When have I ever shorted your allowance?! I put two thousand dollars on your card last time! You obviously blew it all!” “Why does a girl need to eat so much anyway? Do you think looking like a fat pig is pretty?” “All you think about is eating, eating, eating! You’re clearly not focusing on your studies!” I opened my mouth, but a sob escaped first. But Mom, the last time you put money on my card was a year ago. And I’m already so skinny, my ribs are showing. I really didn’t waste a cent. I wished I could spend every penny on the biggest portions of food just to fill my stomach. To feel full, I chugged cold tap water because I didn’t even have the courage to spend a few cents to fill my thermos with hot water… 4 It was only later I found out that the day I fainted, the school’s phone call had distracted her, causing her to miss out on buying concert tickets for her favorite idol. She stormed back not out of concern for my health, but to vent her frustration. Regardless, she ended up leaving me five thousand dollars. Holding the money, I felt absolutely no joy. My mother spent tens of thousands chasing celebrities, taking photos, and dining with her idols. Meanwhile, I shivered in thin clothes at school, clutching a meal card with less than three dollars on it, not knowing where my next meal was coming from. Five thousand dollars wasn’t enough for one of my mother’s concert trips, but one dollar was enough for me to buy hot drinking water for ten days. Three dollars bought six steamed buns, enough to keep me from starving for a day. Ten dollars meant I could buy a clean, new notebook instead of erasing pencil marks until the paper tore. Thirty dollars could buy a study guide that everyone else in class already had. Fifty dollars could buy me a school uniform so I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb anymore. Money was amazing. It gave my mother wings to fly carelessly across whatever wilderness she desired. Simultaneously, it stripped away my basic needs, my dignity, and my pride. All I wanted was to live without constant anxiety. I stretched that money through my second year of middle school. By my third year, Chloe also started boarding and became my roommate. Her mother often came to school to bring her food and would tell me with a warm smile: “Oh my, I bought this shirt too small for Chloe, but it’s perfect for a skinny thing like you, Maya!” “Chloe is such a picky eater, she refuses to eat these ribs. If you don’t mind, Maya, why don’t you try my cooking?” Chloe’s mom also frequently used the excuse of having me tutor Chloe to invite me over for dinner, then slipped me “tutoring fees.” Chloe’s grades weren’t bad; in fact, we frequently fought for the number one spot in class. I obviously knew it was just an excuse. But I didn’t want to go back to that massive, empty house. It was freezing and entirely devoid of warmth. So, I shamelessly accepted the excuse and went home with Chloe. Her mom was wonderful. Plump, with a kind, genial smile and a gentle voice, very much like Mrs. Garcia. Chloe shared half her small bed with me. At night, she hugged her stuffed sheep, and I hugged her arm. The small lamp on her nightstand cast a warm, yellow glow. It felt incredibly safe and comforting. Her dad was great too. One day, I overheard Chloe’s parents talking. While cooking, her mom said, “She’s so young, right in the middle of growing, and so well-behaved. How can her mother be so cruel…” “For a little girl, she sure can eat a lot in one sitting…” My heart leaped into my throat. I knew I ate large portions, and I always tried to control myself. But I was so terrified of being hungry that whenever I saw that much food, I just couldn’t stop. Then her dad continued: “If she’s eating that much in one sitting, she’s definitely been starving for a long time. Make sure you steam the rice a bit softer and cook some richer, meatier dishes to help her build her strength back up.” I let out a massive breath I didn’t know I was holding, tears instantly springing to my eyes. How I wished this was my home. How I wished these were my parents. No one had ever taught me what love was, but I figured having a full stomach and warm clothes was probably it. I finally believed Chloe’s mom wasn’t a liar. Moms were soft-hearted. It was just my mom who was different. 5 During the summer before high school, my mother gave birth to a little boy. They named him Leo. The moment my brother was born, my mother took him to see the sunrise in Paris and the sunset in London. Every time they reached a new destination, my mother would post on social media. In the photos, my brother laughed joyfully as my parents kissed his chubby cheeks. It was sweet and heartwarming. They lit up every corner of the globe for my brother, declaring him their one and only treasure. And me? The meticulous care, the soft whispers, the attention my mother showered on my brother—I had never received any of it. I pretended not to care as I navigated through the crowds of supportive parents to enter the high school placement exam center. But the traditional longevity lock they bought for him didn’t work. My brother died later that year from a severe, sudden fever. I didn’t know the details; I only knew that my mother went quiet for a while and stopped traveling. But my life didn’t change much. I was still as poor and isolated as ever. After surviving for two months, when I was completely out of money again, I finally worked up the courage to dial her number. My mother shrieked into the phone: “Money, money, money! Is that all you know how to ask for?! Why don’t you just go die?! Why was it your brother who died and not you?!” Beep. She hung up. I held the phone to my ear for a long time. Even though I knew she might not give me anything, the venom in her words still pierced me. What kind of mother uses the most vicious curses on her own child? What kind of mother wishes her own child were dead? Mine did. Yet, despite the fact that I only ever called to ask for money, not a single cent was ever added to my meal card. High school was different from middle school; the expenses were much higher. Fortunately, back then, the application process for financial aid wasn’t as strict. The teachers, aware of my situation, secured a spot for me. Relying on that stipend, I scraped by through my freshman year.

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The town I grew up in had the best water, the freshest air, and the most jagged mountain views you could imagine. The only problem was the people. In my village, “conflict resolution” was a fancy term for a fistfight. Logic was a luxury; power was the only currency. If you had a problem, you threw hands until the problem went away. By eighteen, I wasn’t just a participant—I was the undisputed heavy-weight champion of a town full of brawlers. The day my final exams ended, I had a score to settle with the local heartthrob behind the old creek. I was just about to teach him a lesson when my old man’s roar echoed across the valley, summoning me home. He told me my biological parents had finally found me. When the wealthy couple saw me—decked out in my dirt-stained boots, smelling of adrenaline and mountain air—they looked like they’d swallowed glass. They promised to take me back to their mansion, to give me the “life I deserved.” But it was a lie. From the very beginning, they didn’t want a daughter. They wanted a sacrificial lamb. Too bad for them. I’m not a lamb. I’m a wolf. 1 The second I stepped into the foyer of the Montgomery estate, the sound of sobbing hit me like a physical wall. I paused, looking at the man I was supposed to call my father—Harrison Montgomery. He adjusted his silk tie, his eyes avoiding mine. “Don’t tell me,” I said, my voice dry. “There’s a ‘replacement daughter’ already in the picture, isn’t there?” As if on cue, the sobbing in the living room escalated into a full-blown wail. Harrison’s face tightened with a flicker of embarrassment. “When you were lost, your mother… she couldn’t handle the grief. That’s why we adopted Serena. She isn’t a ‘replacement.’ She’s been our daughter for eighteen years. She’s the one who stayed. You should be grateful to her.” My biological mother, Victoria, emerged then. She had been clutching a weeping girl in her arms, but she pulled away to stand in front of me. Her eyes were red, but they held no warmth for me. “This is your sister, Serena,” she said, her voice trembling. “Serena was supposed to be your name, you know. But she’s lived with it for so long that changing it now would be… inconvenient. From now on, your name will be June.” I let my gaze drift over the three of them. The “loving” father, the “heartbroken” mother, and the “fragile” daughter. They looked like a portrait of a perfect family. I was just the smudge on the canvas. I took a step back, creating a deliberate gap between us. “Why would I change my name?” I asked. “I already have one. You can call me The Boss.” Harrison’s forced smile vanished. His brow furrowed into a deep, jagged line. “What kind of ridiculous, low-class name is that? We’ve already updated your paperwork. You are June Montgomery.” Before I could retort, Serena was suddenly at my side, her fingers trembling as she reached for my sleeve. “Is… is June mad at me for taking her name?” she whimpered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. If you hate the name June that much, I can give it back. I’ll do anything, I—” She broke off into another sob, tears fat and heavy rolling down her cheeks. I pulled my arm away, feeling a surge of genuine disgust. “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You’ll give me the name back, but you’re keeping the parents?” I turned back to Harrison and Victoria. “You brought me back here. Are you planning on sending her away?” Serena stumbled back as if I’d struck her. Victoria immediately rushed to steady her, throwing me a look of pure vitriol. “You’ve been in this house for five minutes and you’re already trying to kick her out? Did you hear a word your father said? If it weren’t for Serena, we wouldn’t have survived these eighteen years. You should be thanking her, but instead, you’re being a bully. I am deeply disappointed in you.” Harrison shot her a sharp look, a silent command to stop. I pretended not to see the exchange and started wandering through the living room, appraising the place like a landlord. “Fine. As long as she stays out of my way, I’ll let her keep her seat at the table,” I said. “Nice place you’ve got here. Five thousand square feet? You guys must have been busy making money while I was gone. It’s better than the mountains, I guess. So, where’s my room?” Victoria looked ready to explode, but Harrison cut her off. “June, your room is on the second floor. We had the staff prepare it specifically for you. I’m sure you’ll love it. But listen, since you’ve been living in… less than ideal conditions, we’re worried about your health. Your mother is going to take you to the clinic tomorrow for a full physical. We just want to make sure you’re okay.” “June—” he started again. I held up a finger, silencing him. His face went pale with the perceived insult. I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “The clinic is fine. But with all this ‘June’ and ‘Serena’ stuff, things are going to get confusing. I told you what to call me.” “The Boss.” 2 Harrison’s face turned the color of spoiled milk. But because I’d agreed to the medical exam, he swallowed his pride and hurried Victoria to get me out the door the next morning. The “physical” was exhaustive. They ran every test in the book, taking enough blood to fuel a small army. By the time we got home, I was drained. I collapsed into bed and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night, my throat parched. As I crept downstairs for water, I passed the study on the second floor. The door was ajar, and the muffled voices of the Montgomerys drifted out. “Is it handled?” Victoria’s voice was sharp, devoid of the maternal softness she feigned in public. “No loose ends?” “What could go wrong?” Harrison replied, his tone dismissive. “She’s an eighteen-year-old girl from the middle of nowhere. No matter how sharp her tongue is, she has no idea what’s happening. I’ve already established the medical records in her name. As far as the world is concerned, it was June who had the procedure. Serena’s reputation remains spotless.” I heard the rhythmic tapping of a pen against a mahogany desk. “Good,” Harrison continued. “The only reason to bring that girl here was to have her take the fall for Serena. And if the other matter comes to light… well, we’ll just send the mountain girl to prison. Serena is our jewel; I won’t have her life ruined by one mistake.” I felt the corners of my mouth twitch into a smirk. I turned and walked silently down to the kitchen. They thought I was just a “mountain girl.” They thought they could play me because I was young. This was going to be fun. The next morning, the house was quiet. Harrison and Victoria were out, leaving Serena in the living room with a guy who looked like he’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog. As I came down the stairs, I caught the tail end of their conversation. “Serena, have you decided on a college yet? Do you think your scores are high enough for the Ivy League?” the guy asked. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter. My dad said we could just go abroad together. Italy, maybe? What do you think?” Serena looked down, playing the part of the modest debutante. “If we go abroad together, what will people say? Besides, I think I did okay. I should be around a 1200 on my SATs.” I was sipping a glass of milk, and at that, I couldn’t help it. I snorted. I’d heard from the housekeeper that these two had spent a fortune on Serena’s education over the last eighteen years. Private tutors, elite prep schools, equestrian camps, golf lessons—the works. And she was proud of a 1200? The guy stood up, his face flushing with anger. “You must be the sister. Do you even know what the word ‘respect’ means? Serena and I are having a private conversation. What’s so funny?” I set my milk down and looked him over. He was handsome in that boring, cookie-cutter way. “Oh, you’re big on respect, are you?” I asked. “Did your parents forget to teach you to introduce yourself before demanding things from people?” Serena rose gracefully, her hand fluttering to the guy’s sleeve. “Parker, please. I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way. Don’t let it bother you.” She turned to me, her smile a masterpiece of fake sweetness. “June, this is Parker. His father is a close associate of Dad’s. Parker and I grew up together.” The childhood sweetheart. Of course. It was practically a cliché. I nodded, bored already. But Serena wasn’t done. “June, Mom and Dad mentioned you took your finals this year too. Have you checked your results? How do you think you did? I know the schools out in the country aren’t… great. If the results are bad, don’t worry. You can always redo the year.” I leaned back against the counter, casual. “I did alright. Probably around a 1590 on the SATs. Might even be the top of the state.” 3 The silence that followed was absolute. You could have heard a pin drop on the marble floor. Serena managed a tight, brittle laugh. “You… you certainly have a sense of humor.” Parker just laughed openly. “A 1590? Do you even know what you’re saying? You’re delusional. What, did you dream that while you were milking cows?” Victoria chose that moment to come downstairs, draped in a cashmere shawl. “I told you she’s been corrupted by that life. Lying through her teeth the moment she opens her mouth. It’s embarrassing. Why can’t you learn from your sister? This is how a lady behaves.” I looked at Victoria. The disdain in her eyes was no longer hidden. I smiled inwardly. It was only my second day back, and they were already done pretending. Now that the medical records were swapped, they figured I was no longer a threat. I walked past Victoria, heading back upstairs. “To be a lady of the house, you actually have to be a daughter of the house, don’t you?” I said over my shoulder. “I’ve never heard of an orphan from a dumpster being called a ‘lady.’ As for my scores… the official results come out in a week. We’ll see who’s lying then, won’t we?” For the next week, Parker was a permanent fixture at the Montgomery house. He and Serena took every opportunity to needle me, and Victoria was always there to back them up. But they didn’t realize who they were dealing with. I wasn’t just a brawler; I had a tongue like a razor. Every time they tried to corner me, they ended up leaving the room frustrated and red-faced. They were the perfect entertainment for a boring week. On the day the results were released, the whole family was gathered. Even Harrison stayed home from the office. When the clock struck the hour, Harrison reached for the laptop to check Serena’s scores, but Serena caught his hand. “Dad, check June’s first,” she said, her eyes gleaming with a malice she couldn’t quite hide. “If she really got a 1590, we should celebrate her success, shouldn’t we?” I didn’t argue. I pulled out my phone, logged into the portal, and typed in my ID. A second later, I turned the screen toward them. Reading: 790. Math: 800. Total: 1590. The living room went silent. They stared at the screen as if it were a bomb about to go off. I pulled the phone back with a sigh of mock disappointment. “A 1590? I guess I’m getting rusty. I really thought I’d hit the 1600. Lucky guess on the estimate, I suppose.” I looked at them. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I thought we were celebrating?” Serena’s “fragile” act finally cracked. She let out a sharp, ugly shriek. “That’s impossible!” She lunged forward and snatched the phone from my hand. “You forged this! You’re a hillbilly from a town that probably doesn’t even have electricity! How could you possibly get this score?” Victoria rushed to her side, pulling her into a protective embrace. “It’s okay, Serena. It’s fake. It has to be fake. Don’t get upset.” She looked at me, her face contorted with rage. “I did my research. That village you’re from? It’s a dead end. They don’t even have a proper high school. You’ve never stepped foot in a real classroom. You’re a fraud.” Harrison finally found his voice. “June, it’s alright. We don’t expect you to be a genius, but we won’t tolerate liars in this house. You’re our flesh and blood; we wouldn’t have looked down on you for being uneducated. Why did you feel the need to invent this?” “Look at how much you’ve upset your sister,” Harrison continued. “Apologize to her, right now.” Before he could finish, his phone rang. He glanced at the ID and froze. “It’s… it’s the Dean of Admissions from Harvard?” At the same moment, Victoria’s phone buzzed. “Stanford?” she whispered, staring at the screen. “They’re asking for… The Boss?” 4 The four of them stood there, staring at each other in a daze. I broke the silence. “Nothing to say? I thought I hadn’t been to school? Did I hire the Ivy League to act in a play for you guys? And I thought you said you loved me regardless of my education? Why don’t you look happy for me?” It was true that I didn’t go to the local county school. But my “uncles” and “aunts” back in the village were some of the most brilliant, albeit eccentric, minds in the country who had retired from the grid. If I didn’t study, Uncle Silas would chase me across three hills with a switch. If Silas found out I missed a perfect 1600, he’d probably still give me a lecture. Serena’s eyes were filled with a loathing so deep it looked like venom. Harrison was the first to snap out of it. “Happy? Of course, we’re happy! We had no idea you were so… talented.” I turned to Serena. “Well, little sister. My turn is over. Let’s see yours.” Serena hissed at me, tears of frustration welling up, and bolted from the room. Parker pointed a trembling finger at me, sputtered for a few seconds, and then chased after her. I turned back to the “parents.” Victoria was glaring at me, speechless. Harrison cleared his throat, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder and steering her toward the stairs. “Right. Your mother and I need to go to the study. We have calls to make. This is… big news.” I waved them off, smiling. Ten minutes after they went upstairs, I crept up and stood outside the study door. Victoria was nearly hysterical. “You have to fix this! A score like that, a school like that—it belongs to Serena. We can’t let that brat have it. Look at Serena! She’s been crying since the moment that girl arrived. Doesn’t that break your heart?” Harrison sounded conflicted. “But she’s our biological daughter. Serena… as much as we love her, she isn’t. If the girl were just some country bumpkin, fine. But she’s smart. She could be an asset to the Montgomery name—” The sound of shattering porcelain cut him off. “Stop acting like a devoted father!” Victoria screamed. “Have you forgotten who has been by our side for eighteen years? Blood means nothing! If anything happens to Serena, you’ll regret it. And that other matter… it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out. Do you really want Serena to be the one they take away?” There was a long, heavy silence. Finally, Harrison spoke. “I know. I’ll handle it.” The next morning, the house was empty except for Parker, who was sitting on the sofa. The moment he saw me, he stood up. “Don’t think you’re special, June. You think a high score makes you better than us? Typical. You people from the mud think a little book-learning makes you king of the world. But so what? You get a degree, you get a job… so what? You’ll spend your whole life working just to reach the starting line where people like us begin.” “The Montgomerys will only ever recognize Serena. My family will only ever recognize Serena. You’re nothing.” I picked at my ear, looking bored. “Stop, stop. Did I mention my name isn’t June? It’s The Boss.” Parker blinked, momentarily stunned by the sheer absurdity of it. I laughed at his confusion. “Oh, I get it. You’re here because you’re afraid I’m going to steal Serena’s ‘prize’—which is you, I assume? Sorry, honey. You should visit my village sometime. Even our local farmhands have more personality than you. To me, you’re just a generic Ken doll with a bad attitude.” Parker’s face twisted. “Keep telling yourself that. You’re the outcast here. Even if you are their biological child, you’re just a country girl with the right DNA. Nobody in our circle will ever accept you. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last woman on Earth.” I held up a hand. “Shut up. Seriously. I might actually throw up. Parker, let me tell you something. Not only do I not want the Montgomerys, but your family is nothing to me either.” I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Pop? Someone’s bothering me.” “Can you send him to East Africa? Permanently?” On the other end, Pop’s voice was as loud and boisterous as ever. “Sure thing, kiddo! I’ll get Butch on it right away!” Then, his voice softened. “If you’re not having fun there, just come home. I’ve got enough tucked away to keep you in silk and steak for three lifetimes. But if you want the city life, I’ve got you covered there too. Houses, cars, a couple of tech firms—I’ve had them ready for you since you were ten!”

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The night I took the client out, my boss insisted on The Starling Room—a place where the tasting menu alone starts at four figures and the air smells like old money and arrogance. When the check arrived, he leaned over with a practiced, oily smile and whispered for me to put the $8,900 tab on my personal card. “The firm will reimburse you by Monday, Michelle. Don’t worry about it.” But on Monday, the finance department handed me a voucher for exactly $3,500. “There’s a mistake,” I said, my voice tight as I stood in the CEO’s office. “I’m out five grand. You told me the company would cover it.” Arthur Beaumont didn’t even look up from his mahogany desk. He merely glanced at the receipt in my hand with a look of pure, clinical disdain. “The fact that you couldn’t keep the dinner under the corporate cap isn’t a budget issue, Michelle,” he said, his voice as smooth as the scotch he’d downed on my dime. “It’s a competency issue. That extra $5,400? Consider it a tuition fee for your lack of negotiation skills.” I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I simply smiled, walked out, and called the client to ask for his Venmo. 1 “Michelle, look, I’ve seen your work. You’re capable. But you know the handbook. $3,500 is the hard ceiling for client entertainment. Anything over that is a violation of policy.” I looked at the $3,500 deposit notification on my phone and then back at the $8,900 receipt. Suddenly, the memory of last Friday—of me hovering over a toilet at 2:00 AM, vomiting from the stress and the sheer volume of wine I’d had to keep up with—felt like a sick, cosmic joke. “Arthur, you chose the restaurant,” I said, my hand trembling as I gripped the paper. “The Starling Room is $2,000 a head. There were three of us. We were over the limit before we even ordered appetizers. You told me to pay. You said it was handled. Are you seriously backing out now?” Arthur tapped a rhythmic, annoying beat on his desk with a gold fountain pen. “The rules are there for a reason. If I make an exception for you, what message does that send to the rest of the associates? Don’t let that ten-million-dollar contract you just signed go to your head. You aren’t a partner yet. If you’re too ‘incompetent’ to manage a dinner budget, maybe you aren’t ready for the big leagues.” He waved a hand, dismissing me like a fly. “Now, get back to your desk. You’re on the clock, and I’m not paying you to loiter in my office.” The door clicked shut behind me, heavy and final. My blood was simmering. I could still hear his voice from Friday night, booming across the velvet-draped booth: “Michelle, you landed the biggest fish this firm has seen in a decade! As a reward, we’re going to The Starling Room. It’s time you saw how the real players live.” I had tried to stop him. “Arthur, that place is astronomical. Even a basic menu will put us way over the $3,500 reimbursement cap.” He hadn’t even listened. He was already on the phone with the client. “Ted! It’s Arthur. I’ve got us a table at The Starling Room tonight. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.” He’d sent three follow-up texts to Ted Henderson, the client, making sure he knew exactly where the most expensive meal in the city was happening. I had asked him one last time before we walked in: “The overage… the firm will cover it, right? And getting a last-minute table there is almost impossible, I might have to pull some strings…” He’d slammed his hand on the desk then, too. “I told Ted we’re going. Now go make it happen!” So I did. I called in favors, I begged, I used every connection I had to get that private booth. And this was the thanks I got. As I walked past the cubicles, a senior associate named Sarah leaned out, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “I heard you got capped. Rough. But honestly, Michelle, you’re making twenty grand in commission on that deal. Why are you nickel-and-diming the firm over a few thousand bucks? It’s a bad look. You seem… greedy.” Before I could snap back, Monica Kent from Finance appeared, her face a mask of bureaucratic fury. “Michelle Sinclair! We need to talk about your recent expense report. Right now.” 2 Being summoned by Monica was never good. The office went quiet, the vultures in the neighboring cubicles perking their ears up. I had intended to go to her office to calmly explain the situation, but she didn’t give me the chance. She started shouting right there in the middle of the floor. “Twelve thousand dollars for a three-day trip to Chicago? Who do you think you are, the Queen of England?” Her voice was a piercing siren. I felt my ears ringing. “You’re young, you’re clearly struggling with the basics of the job, and now you’re using the company as your personal piggy bank? You spent five thousand dollars on a hotel stay? Was the bed made of solid gold?” The whispers started instantly. “Wait, did she say twelve thousand?” “God, she looks so innocent, but she’s totally padding her expenses.” “I heard she tried to bill nine grand for a single dinner. She thinks she owns the place.” Arthur stepped out of his office, a cloud of expensive cigar smoke trailing behind him. He looked at the commotion with choreographed boredom. “What is it now, Monica?” “It’s her, Arthur!” Monica pointed a manicured finger at me. “She spent four thousand on Amtrak tickets for her and the client—first class, obviously—and five thousand on a hotel! This is egregious!” Arthur’s face darkened when he heard the hotel figure. He took his cigar and dropped it, still lit, right onto the toe of my shoe. He didn’t apologize. His eyes were cold. “Five thousand for a hotel, Michelle? Really?” “Arthur, I told you—” “Give her the standard rate,” Arthur interrupted, looking at Monica. Monica smirked and handed me a revised approval slip. The reimbursed amount for the hotel: $500. “We have policies for a reason, honey,” Monica said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You can’t just treat the firm like a revolving credit line because you signed one big contract. Try using your brain next time. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so ‘incompetent.’” I stared at the $500 figure. I felt a laugh bubbling up in my throat—a jagged, dangerous thing. The ten-million-dollar deal I just brought in would keep this firm’s lights on for the next year. My commission was a measly twenty-one thousand dollars. I had worked eighteen-hour days for a month. I had missed my best friend’s wedding. I had developed a stomach ulcer that had me on prescription meds. And Arthur had been there every step of the way, nodding when I told him the requirements. “Arthur, the client is high-maintenance. He won’t stay anywhere but the Ritz-Carlton. It’s way over the per diem…” He’d waved me off back then. “Michelle, the rules are for the people who aren’t closing ten-million-dollar deals. Just get the signature. I’ll take care of the rest. Money is no object when it comes to Ted Henderson.” I had a recording of that conversation on my phone. I’d started recording him months ago because I knew he was a snake. But standing here, watching the smug satisfaction on Monica’s face and the cowardice in Arthur’s eyes, I realized they didn’t care about the truth. They cared about the power. Twelve thousand dollars was two months of my salary. Between my rent in Manhattan and the money I’d already shelled out for this firm, my bank account was nearly empty. 3 Monica handed me my monthly pay stub. I looked at the “Net Pay” line and froze. Five hundred dollars. “Monica… this has to be a mistake. This isn’t even my base salary.” Monica didn’t even look at me; she was already handing out envelopes to the other associates, basking in their “thank yous.” “There’s no mistake, Michelle. You know what you did. Or do I need to humiliate you in front of the whole office again? Just take the win of not being fired for fraud and walk away.” I gripped the paper so hard it tore. The rage, cold and sharp, finally broke through. I walked up to her and slammed the pay stub onto her desk—right over her lunch. “Explain this. Now.” “Michelle, don’t be a child,” Monica snapped. “Your base is two thousand every two weeks. But you damaged the high-capacity printer last month—that’s a fifteen-hundred-dollar repair. You had three unexcused absences when you were ‘sick’—” “I was in the ER with a stress-induced ulcer caused by this job!” “And,” she continued, ignoring me, “your performance bonus for the Henderson deal hasn’t cleared because the client hasn’t made the first payment. So, after deductions for the ‘damages’ and your missed time… you get five hundred. Be grateful we didn’t charge you interest.” The office was silent. My coworkers were staring at their own shoes, terrified that if they looked up, they’d be next. “The printer was broken when I got there,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I told you that. I didn’t even touch the screen before it started smoking. And my travel expenses were pre-approved by Arthur.” Arthur leaned against his doorframe, smirking. “I never approved a five-thousand-dollar hotel, Michelle. Maybe you should spend less time dreaming and more time reading the employee handbook. If you don’t like it… you know where the door is.” I looked at him. Truly looked at him. Then I looked at Monica. “You’re right, Arthur,” I said, tucked my hair behind my ear, and gave him a bright, terrifying smile. “The rules are the rules. I totally understand. My mistake.” I grabbed my bag and walked out of the office. I didn’t go home. I took an Uber straight to Ted Henderson’s private club. I found him in the lounge, sipping a neat bourbon. “Ted,” I said, sitting down across from him. “We have a bit of a situation. The dinner last night? It was $5,900 over my firm’s cap. Since Arthur is insisting on ‘strict policy’ today, I’m afraid we’re going to have to split the bill. You owe me $2,950.”

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Chapter 1 My husband couldn’t forget his “one that got away.” In the VIP room of a club, drunk out of his mind, he confessed his truth to his friends: “I’ve loved her for years. It killed me that she got married before I could confess. And now that she’s finally divorced, it kills me that I’m married.” I wasn’t angry. I still stayed by his side. My husband despised me. He saw me as a pathetic, clingy doormat with no personality, an obstacle standing between him and his true love. He desperately wanted to divorce me. But every time he brought it up, I refused. What he didn’t know was that he was just my assigned target. I only needed to reject his demand for a divorce three times, and the system would forcibly terminate my mission. … When I rushed to the club through the pouring rain, I arrived just in time to hear Arthur Sterling’s confession: “I’ve loved her for years, but before I could tell her, she got married.” “And now that she’s finally divorced, I’m the one who’s tied down.” One of his frat brothers teased him, “You could always just get a divorce, man.” Arthur’s drunken voice dripped with disdain and contempt. “That woman is obsessed with me. She’s practically psychotic. Do you really think she’d ever agree to a divorce?” “You guys have no idea. Every time I see her hovering around me, I get sick to my stomach. She has absolutely no personality, no sense of self.” “She couldn’t even compare to one of Chloe’s fingernails.” I stood frozen in the hallway outside the open door. Behind me, the sharp click-clack of high heels echoed. It was Arthur’s beloved “one that got away,” Chloe Vance. “Mia, you’re here. Why aren’t you going inside?” she asked, her voice light and musical. She flashed me a brilliant, arrogant smile, her pretty eyes glinting with malice. “What are you eavesdropping on?” The men inside suddenly noticed me. The color drained from their faces, and they shot guilty, panicked looks at Arthur. For a split second, Arthur looked sober and terrified, but his expression instantly hardened into ice. “You heard all of that?” There were too many people in the room. To save Arthur’s face, I played dumb. “Heard what? I just got here.” Arthur let out a cold, disgusted laugh and turned his head away, refusing to look at me. I walked into the room to help him up. “It’s really late. Let’s go home.” Arthur violently shoved me away without a shred of hesitation. He snapped impatiently, “Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t coming home tonight? Why did you track me down? Do you have any idea how annoying you are?” He was drunk, so he didn’t bother hiding his temper. His expression was a terrifying, vicious scowl I had never seen before. It made him look like a complete stranger. Actually, maybe not a stranger. He had been treating me like this for a while now. Ever since his “true love” announced her divorce. “Arthur, don’t talk to Mia like that. She only came to pick you up because she cares about you,” Chloe chimed in with sickeningly fake sweetness. “How about this: Mia and I will take you home together. Is that okay?” Arthur looked at Chloe’s face, and his features softened visibly. “Okay.” So, I ended up driving, while Arthur and Chloe squeezed into the backseat together. I don’t know if Arthur was actually blackout drunk or just doing it on purpose, but he laid his head directly on Chloe’s lap, resting there intimately like they were deeply in love. It made my eyes burn. Chloe offered a sickly-sweet apology. “Mia, please don’t misunderstand. Arthur is just drunk. I really hope you two don’t fight because of me.” I didn’t say a word. I had absolutely zero desire to waste my energy interacting with a manipulative homewrecker. But Chloe just wouldn’t shut up. “You really do have a boring personality. No wonder you and Arthur haven’t developed any real feelings after being married for five years.” Chapter 2 Those words actually stung. Yeah. Once upon a time, I had genuinely fantasized about the whole “arranged marriage turning into true love” trope with him. But at the end of the day, Arthur always loved his “one that got away” more. When the car pulled up to the estate, Chloe completely ignored me and practically carried Arthur inside by herself. I didn’t stop her. I just sat in the driver’s seat, looking at the photo I had just taken on my phone. The next day, when Arthur sobered up, I shoved the photo in his face. It was a picture of him sleeping peacefully on Chloe’s lap, while she gazed down at him with profound affection. Arthur stared at the screen, stunned. Then, a subtle wave of joy washed over his face. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was absolutely thrilled that Chloe was looking at him with love in her eyes. So, I intentionally threw a massive tantrum, screaming at him, “What exactly is going on between you and that homewrecking slut, Chloe Vance?!” Arthur’s brow furrowed instantly. “Mia, watch your mouth. Have some class, will you?” I yelled back furiously, “Even if I have no class, I am still your wife! I have every right to control what you do, and I have every right to curse out the homewrecker you’re messing around with!” I used the ugliest words I could think of. Just as I hoped, Arthur’s expression turned pitch black. He glared at me with absolute freezing hatred. “What? Am I not your wife? Do I not have that right?!” “Then let’s get a divorce,” Arthur said, his voice dripping with profound exhaustion and disgust. “Mia, we’re getting a divorce.” I forced myself to look hysterical and screamed, “I will not agree to that! Arthur Sterling, I will never divorce you!” Arthur gave me a look that practically said, I knew it. As if he had predicted exactly how pathetic and desperate I would be. Sick of my presence, he slammed the bedroom door and left. The second he was gone, the furious mask melted off my face. I calmly pulled out a chair and sat down at my desk. Finally. He initiated the divorce. Six years ago, the System pulled me into this dimension and assigned me the mission of capturing Arthur Sterling’s heart. For six years, I played the role of the devoted, deeply-in-love woman flawlessly. I sacrificed everything to marry him. At one point, I even actually fell for him. But Arthur still didn’t love me. I failed the mission. Now, the only way out was the fail-safe: if Arthur explicitly demanded a divorce three separate times, the mission would be forcibly terminated, and I could finally return to my own world. That was strike one. Just two more to go. When Arthur returned home later that day, I was in my study, organizing my illustration drafts. After marrying Arthur, I became a full-time housewife, but I also worked as a freelance illustrator. I had actually built a pretty solid following online. Right now, I was finalizing my very first original comic series. It had taken me over two years to conceptualize and draw. Originally, I planned to publish it in this world, but since I was leaving soon, I decided to take the intellectual property back to my original dimension with me. Hearing the front door open, I closed my sketchbook and walked out to greet him, pretending our massive fight never happened. “You’re back?” I asked softly. Arthur looked incredibly stiff and awkward, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. I walked toward him, knowing exactly what was coming, but feigning ignorance. “I made your favorite soup. Let me go heat it up for you.” The second I stepped out of the study, I saw exactly why Arthur looked so guilty. Chloe was standing in the foyer, holding a massive suitcase. “Hi, Mia,” Chloe said, flashing me a gentle, apologetic smile. “I’ve been getting harassed by some crazy stalker fans lately, so I can’t stay at my place. Would it be okay if I crashed here for a few days until things cool down?” I stared at her, my face completely blank. I didn’t say a word. Arthur, clearly feeling guilty, spoke up softly to defend her. “It’s true. Some fan leaked Chloe’s address. They’ve been banging on her door every night and following her.” Seeing my continued silence, Arthur started to lose his patience. His brows drew together in an irritated scowl. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Chloe. We’ve just been friends for years. She’s in trouble, and I can’t just leave her out on the street.” “Mia, there has to be a limit to your irrational jealousy. Stop testing my patience. We’ve been married for five years; can you please grow up and stop acting like a dramatic teenager?” “Fine,” I said, breaking my gaze away from Chloe and looking directly at Arthur. “She can stay.” Chapter 3 Why wouldn’t I let her stay? Having her living under the same roof was the fastest way to detonate the remaining tension between Arthur and me. It was the quickest way to get him to demand a divorce for the second time. The sooner I could leave this world, the better. Arthur looked at me in genuine shock. His eyes flickered with something unreadable—almost like he was still unsatisfied. “What? I said yes, and you’re still not happy?” Arthur frowned, pointing a warning finger at me. “Don’t try anything stupid. If I find out you’re secretly bullying Chloe while I’m not around, I won’t let it slide.” I actually wanted to laugh out loud. I was his legal wife, yet he was bending over backwards to protect an outsider from me. I really wanted to ask him: Arthur, after all these years together, have you honestly never felt a single shred of genuine affection for me? But I didn’t. Arthur ignored me and hurried down the stairs to help Chloe with her luggage. While he was setting up the guest room, I heard him cheerfully say to her, “Mia made this incredible herbal soup earlier. Once we’re done unpacking, I’ll bring you a bowl.” “Mia has a lot of flaws, but her cooking is top-tier. Your health hasn’t been great lately, so we’ll have her cook some nutritious meals for you while you’re here.” I rolled my eyes and scoffed. Arthur, do you really think that just because we’re married, I’m your personal maid? Do you honestly believe that no matter how much you degrade me, I’ll never leave you? I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I’m finally gone. I walked downstairs, went straight into the kitchen, drank one bowl of the soup myself, and poured the entire rest of the pot straight down the garbage disposal. I spent all day simmering that soup. I’d rather pour it down the drain than let this trashy duo have a single drop. I went back up to my study and resumed organizing my comic drafts. Not ten minutes later, Arthur violently shoved the study door open, glaring at me. “Where is the soup?” I kept my eyes on my tablet and answered coldly, “I dumped it.” “What?!” Arthur looked like a completely different person. His voice exploded with rage. “Mia, what the hell is your problem?! If you didn’t want Chloe to stay here, you should have just said no! What is the point of agreeing to her face and then playing these passive-aggressive, petty little games behind my back?!” I looked up at him, my voice freezing cold. “If I had said no, would you have gracefully accepted it without throwing a fit?” Arthur glared at me, struck speechless. I stared right back at him, holding my breath, waiting for him to drop the D-word for the second time. But to my immense disappointment, he didn’t. He just slammed the door and stormed out again. Late that night, after washing up, I got into bed. Downstairs in the living room, Arthur and Chloe were drinking wine and laughing. The atmosphere sounded incredibly cozy and romantic; their laughter echoed all the way up to the master bedroom. I don’t know how much time passed. I was deep in sleep when I suddenly felt heavy arms wrap around me from behind. It was Arthur. His breath was scorching hot and reeked of alcohol. He started pressing wet, sloppy kisses against the back of my neck. A wave of absolute revulsion washed over me. I violently shoved him off. “What are you doing?!” The shove sobered him up slightly. He scowled in annoyance. “You’re my wife. What do you think I’m doing?” Seeing me physically recoil from him, his face darkened into a menacing glare. “This is your duty as a wife. Mia, if you’re going to keep acting like a prude and refuse to let me touch you, then get the hell out of my house.” Ever since I discovered he was emotionally cheating with Chloe, I hadn’t let him touch me. It had been almost three months. “Your house?” I asked, my voice flat. Arthur looked at me with smug, absolute superiority, fully convinced I was about to yield. “When you married me, you had absolutely nothing. I paid for this house entirely by myself, so yes, it’s my house. Did you forget, Mia? You literally begged me to marry you.” “If you aren’t going to let me touch you, then get out!” Chapter 4 I was so utterly speechless that I just went quiet, and then a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Back then, he was my assigned target. To complete the mission, I really had begged him to marry me. I couldn’t deny it. I just never expected that the man I had actually developed real feelings for would weaponize my vulnerability to obliterate my dignity. “Fine. I’m leaving.” I opened the closet and haphazardly threw a few essentials into a duffel bag. Before walking out the door, I paused for a second. I was waiting for him to deliver the killing blow—to say something cruel, like, If you walk out that door, we’re getting a divorce. But Arthur completely misread my hesitation. He ruthlessly mocked me. “I thought you were leaving? Go on! Walk out!” His tone made it painfully obvious that he thought I was just throwing a theatrical tantrum for attention, and that I’d never actually leave him. I realized the fire wasn’t quite hot enough yet. I needed to push him over the edge. So, I pivoted, marched straight to the guest room where Chloe was sleeping, and started violently pounding on the door. I wanted to manufacture a catastrophic, explosive argument to force Arthur to say the word ‘divorce’. Arthur sprinted down the hall and grabbed my arm, yanking me back. “What the hell are you doing, Mia?! Have you lost your damn mind?!” I thrashed against his grip. “Let me go! Arthur, don’t think I don’t know exactly what you’re planning! You’re obsessed with Chloe, aren’t you?! I’m going to ask her right now if she actually wants you!” I thought pushing this specific button would guarantee he demanded a divorce. But I never, in a million years, expected his reaction. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the hallway. I froze, completely stunned into silence. Arthur looked equally shocked. He stood there, staring at his trembling hand, his lips parting slightly. He looked like he wanted to apologize, but his pride wouldn’t let him. Finally, he just gritted out, “Get back in your room.” I felt a profound, bottomless disappointment in him. Staring at his bloodshot eyes, I felt tears threatening to spill. Arthur couldn’t maintain eye contact. He looked away and muttered, “Mia, if you pull a stunt like this again, I really will divorce you.” Finally. I finally heard the words I had been waiting for. Even though every fiber of my being was screaming YES! Let’s go sign the papers right now!, I had to play my part. I forced myself to look devastated, choking back tears of “anger and betrayal.” “I will never agree to that!” I turned and practically sprinted out of the villa. Finally. Just one more strike, and I could permanently evacuate this nightmare. I wandered the empty streets for hours before finally stopping. Staring at the desolate roads and the flickering amber streetlights, a heavy wave of existential dread washed over me. Six years ago, I was dropped into this world. My entire existence had revolved around one single objective: Arthur Sterling. I had spent so much time orbiting him that I had never bothered to build a life or a social circle of my own. Thank God I had never given up my career as an illustrator. Once I returned to my original world, I could use my new comic series to establish myself as a successful artist. The thought of my comic made me instantly regret storming out so fast. I had forgotten my manuscript drafts in the study. I’d have to find an excuse to go back and pack them up. I checked into a nearby hotel. Days passed, and Arthur didn’t reach out once. I didn’t want to waste any more time, so just as I was hyping myself up to go back to the villa and force the final confrontation, disaster struck. Chloe Vance uploaded my entire comic series to her massive art account. She had digitized my hand-drawn drafts, but the character designs, the plot, the storyboards… it was all a 1:1 stolen copy. I was so furious I nearly blacked out. I immediately called Arthur. I called five times. He ignored every single one, and eventually just turned his phone off. I forced myself to calm down. I logged onto my own art account, tagged Chloe, and publicly accused her of plagiarism. Chloe and I were both illustrators, but our careers were vastly different. I focused entirely on the art, while she operated more like an influencer. She had recently monetized her highly publicized divorce to farm massive amounts of sympathy and traffic, so her follower count was currently explosive. Chloe immediately released a statement denying the allegations, calling me a liar and demanding I produce hard evidence or issue a public apology. My original physical drafts were locked in the study at the villa. I obviously couldn’t produce them on the spot. Within minutes, her rabid fanbase swarmed my account, flooding my comments and DMs with so much toxic abuse that my phone literally crashed. Chapter 5 I hailed a cab back to the villa while simultaneously redialing Arthur’s number. This time, he finally picked up. His voice was laced with undeniable guilt. My instincts kicked in, and I immediately hit record on the call. “Did you give my manuscript to Chloe?” Arthur didn’t answer the question. Instead, he deflected, “Where are you?” “Answer the question, Arthur! You know damn well that comic is the culmination of years of my hard work!” Arthur’s voice turned impatient and defensive. “I said I’d compensate you! What do you want? I’ll buy you a house, okay?” I ground my teeth together, absolutely livid. “I am asking you why you gave my life’s work to Chloe Vance! That is my intellectual property!” “Didn’t I just say I’d pay you back?! When Chloe starts making revenue from the comic, she’ll give you a cut!” Arthur’s sheer audacity completely shattered my understanding of human depravity. “Just delete those accusations you posted online. If you do that… I promise I will never bring up divorce again.” “Hah.” I actually laughed out loud. Never bring up divorce again? The absolute only thing I wanted from him right now was for him to demand a divorce. “In your dreams,” I snarled into the phone. “Arthur, I am getting my work back.” The second I hung up, I uploaded the raw audio recording directly to my social media. It acted like a nuclear bomb. The internet exploded. A significant portion of the hate comments vanished, replaced by a massive wave of skeptics demanding Chloe provide hard proof of her ownership, since audio recordings could easily be faked or taken out of context. The cab pulled up to the gate. I threw cash at the driver and sprinted toward the villa. Arthur and Chloe were sitting in the living room. Chloe’s face was streaked with tears. She was leaning weakly against Arthur’s shoulder, sobbing a pathetic, tragic picture of victimhood. The second she saw me, her eyes widened in a desperate, pleading gaze. Arthur, on the other hand, glared at me like I had just murdered his family. I only cared about one thing. “Where is my manuscript?” Arthur didn’t answer. He closed the distance between us in three massive strides, violently grabbed my wrist, and snatched my phone—which was currently recording video—right out of my hand. He hurled it onto the marble floor, shattering the screen. He stared at me with pure, unadulterated venom. “Mia, you are a profound disappointment. You spent years claiming you loved me, claiming your entire life revolved around me. But the second I ask you to make one tiny sacrifice for me, you refuse, and then you leak our private phone call to the internet?!” His face was a mask of furious disappointment, placing the entirety of the blame squarely on my shoulders. “Are you trying to destroy my life?! You never used to be like this! You used to be obedient. You bent over backwards to make me happy. That was the version of you I actually tolerated.” “Now? Looking at you right now makes me sick. I have absolutely zero interest in you.” “We are getting a divorce, Mia.” Arthur stared intensely into my eyes, his expression radiating absolute certainty and expectation. He was entirely convinced that I would instantly crumble. He thought I would panic, reject the divorce, and immediately agree to all his demands just to stay by his side. But what he didn’t know was… this was the third strike. He had formally demanded a divorce three times. I no longer had to reject him. Because the System had just pinged in my brain: the forced termination sequence had been initiated. I was finally leaving.

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I was Mom’s most cherished “Maple Syrup Baby,” born unable to touch sugar. A severe case of Maple Syrup Urine Disease meant that even a hint of sweetness could cause full-body swelling and suffocation. To balance my delicate psyche, Mom forced my twin brother and me to drink bitter medicine and eat special meals together. When we were seven, my brother, desperate for a taste, secretly licked a discarded candy wrapper he found on the ground. Mom discovered him, rushed over like a madwoman, and forcefully clamped his throat, making him vomit: “You worthless brat! Are you that greedy?!” “Your sister fights for her life every day, and you only care about your own pleasure?!” “I’m telling you, you deserve to suffer with your sister your whole life! As long as she’s alive, you won’t touch sugar for a single day!” Under my brother’s hateful gaze, I was consumed by shame. So, on the eve of our eighteenth birthday, I decided to use my death to grant him his freedom. I slipped into the kitchen and secretly ate an entire chocolate cake. Yet, after a night passed, the expected swelling and suffocation never came. Looking at my rosy, healthy face in the mirror, a chill ran through me: If I was fine, then who was the “Maple Syrup Baby” that Mom fought so hard to protect? 1 Last night, I stared at that fragrant chocolate cake, feeling nothing but immense relief. I clasped my hands together, silently wishing into the air: “Next life, I still want to be Mom’s daughter, Asher’s sister.” “But please, God, don’t let me be a ‘Maple Syrup Baby’ again.” “I want to be a healthy child, to eat sweets without a care, to run freely in the sun…” I opened my eyes, trembling as I dug a large spoonful of cake into my mouth. So sweet. I swallowed in big gulps, tears mixing with cream as they flowed into my mouth. Then I quietly lay back on the bed, waiting for death’s pronouncement. One minute, two minutes, an hour… There was no expected difficulty breathing, no full-body swelling, not even a hint of dizziness or nausea! I looked at my rosy-cheeked reflection in the mirror. What was going on? I’d eaten an entire chocolate cake, enough sugar to kill me ten times over! Why was I completely unharmed? Was Mom just too anxious before, and my illness wasn’t actually that serious? Or… was this the so-called ‘flash before death’? I suppressed the surging questions and fear in my heart and walked out of the bedroom. At the dining table, Mom was carrying two bowls of grayish-brown paste, placing them in front of my brother and me, constantly emitting a foul odor. It was my special nutritional powder; for eighteen years, I had sustained my life with this stuff. “I’m not eating it!” My brother, Asher, seemed to reach his breaking point. He violently waved his hand, knocking the scalding paste directly onto the floor. He pointed at the puddle and roared: “Are you crazy? I have hands, feet, and a healthy body, why do you insist on forcing me and that invalid to eat the same pig slop?” “Is this stuff even fit for humans? Not even a dog would sniff it!” Mom’s eyes instantly reddened, tears welling up immediately. “Asher! How can you say that? Do you have no conscience?” “Do you think Mom wants you to suffer? Look at your sister, Willow! She’ll only ever be able to eat this kind of thing her whole life, she’s never even tasted a bite of meat or a single piece of candy! How do you think she feels seeing you eat lavish meals?” Mom pointed at me, her voice choked. “If your sister sees you eating good food, she’ll get jealous, and her condition will worsen! Once it flares up, it’s tens of thousands in medical bills! The whole family suffering with your sister, that’s how we do things in this house!” Asher turned to look at me, his eyes devoid of any sympathy, only a thick, suffocating hatred. Seeing that brute force wasn’t working, Mom immediately changed her approach. “Son, listen. As long as you drink this bowl, and don’t make your sister feel unfairly treated, Mom will transfer money to you right away. That game skin you wanted, I’ll buy it for you, alright?” Asher’s face softened slightly. He snorted, then reluctantly picked up the bowl. Having dealt with Asher, Mom came over to me, gently stroking my hair, her eyes full of self-congratulation. “Willow, see? This naughty boy doesn’t understand, but Mom has to make him realize that in this family, your feelings come first!” As she spoke, she brought over the bowl of strange-smelling nutritional powder, half-forcing, half-persuading me to take a sip. “Mom buying him that skin, it’s just a necessary evil, to shut him up so he doesn’t make a fuss and upset you. In Mom’s heart, you’re still the most precious.” “Come on, good girl, drink it quickly. Mom specially prepared this for you, don’t let Mom’s hard work go to waste.” I looked at Mom’s eyes, filled with doting affection, and then at Asher, who, despite drinking the paste, had a smug smirk on his face. In the past, I would have been moved to tears, feeling like the happiest and most indebted daughter in the world. To repay Mom’s ‘favoritism,’ I would have tried my hardest to be good to Asher, enduring all his bullying. But now, the lingering sweetness of chocolate in my throat felt like a thorn in my heart. If I wasn’t sick, if eating sugar wouldn’t kill me… then why was Mom forcing a healthy Asher to eat this ‘pig slop’ with me? She said she loved me the most, but why did it feel like she was deliberately steering Asher’s hatred towards me? “Willow? What are you staring at? Drink up. After this, we’re going to the mall to do some New Year’s shopping.” Mom’s words brought me back to reality. I lowered my head and, suppressing my nausea, drank it all in one gulp. At the mall, Mom carried large shopping bags, all for Asher. A designer down jacket costing over three hundred dollars, the latest Apple phone, even limited-edition sneakers. Asher preened in front of the mirror in his new clothes, and Mom stood by, smiling lovingly. “Asher is going to do great things in the future. Since he’s healthy, he needs to see more of the world, dress well, so he can support your sister later.” When she turned to me, the smile on Mom’s face subtly faded. She casually pulled an old-fashioned, even slightly threadbare, discounted red cotton jacket from a promotional rack and shoved it into my arms. Before I could speak, Mom pressed my hand with a pained expression. “Willow, don’t mind the old style of this jacket, it’s pure natural cotton, very breathable. Those fancy down jackets might look good, but they’re all synthetic and duck down, full of allergens. Your body is delicate, what if you get sick wearing them? Listen to Mom, we’ll take this one.” I looked at my ridiculous, ugly reflection in the mirror, then at my dazzling brother next to me, and, suppressing a pang of sadness, nodded. “Thank you, Mom.” In the past, I would have been touched by Mom’s thoughtfulness. But now, I only felt that red cotton jacket was an unshakeable layer of humiliation. While shopping for New Year’s groceries, the candy aisle in the supermarket was piled high with colorful mountains of sweets. Asher’s eyes instantly lit up. While Mom was choosing melon seeds, he grabbed a handful of crisp candies and shoved them into his pocket. But I saw it, and Mom saw it too. “Smack!” Asher stumbled back from Mom’s blow, covering his face as he looked up in disbelief. “Take out the candy!” Mom shrieked hysterically. “Who told you to take candy? If you bring these home, will your sister see them and crave them? With her condition, craving can be deadly!” “How can you be so selfish! You have no sympathy! The whole family is sacrificing for your sister, and here you are, secretly hiding candy to eat! Do you have any conscience?!” The elderly shoppers around us began to whisper. “This mother has it so hard.” “Yes, and this younger brother is so thoughtless, he doesn’t consider his family at all.” “What selfless parental love, really. To accommodate her daughter’s feelings, even her healthy child has to give up sugar. This mother is truly great.” Listening to the praise from those around her, Mom’s anger transformed into a tragic, saintly glow. She wiped away tears, basking in everyone’s sympathy. Meanwhile, Asher stood in the center of the crowd, his face flushed crimson with shame and fury. He stared intently at me, his eyes wishing they could tear me apart on the spot. Back home, as soon as Mom went into the kitchen to cook, Asher grabbed my hair and roughly dragged me to the balcony. It was the dead of winter, there was no heating on the balcony, and the wind seeping through the glass panes cut at my face like knives. Asher stood in the warm living room, separated by the glass door, his expression distorted. “Mom says your body is delicate and can’t have sugar? Fine, then you shouldn’t use the heater either! The heater is for living people!” “If you freeze to death, the family won’t have to buy medicine for you anymore. The money saved will be enough for me to eat candy for a lifetime!” I huddled into a ball in the cold wind. That so-called old cotton jacket offered no warmth, and the biting wind instantly pierced through my bones. Inside the living room, the television played festive New Year’s programs, and the aroma of food wafted faintly, while I, like an abandoned dog, gradually lost feeling in my hands and feet, and my consciousness began to blur. It wasn’t until Mom came out with the dishes, saw me on the balcony, and cried out in alarm, opening the door and dragging me inside. I thought Mom would punish Asher. But she didn’t. She just called Asher, who was filled with malice, and me, who was shivering from the cold, together. She took out a thick ledger from a drawer, filled with densely packed numbers. “Look! All of you, look! This is how much money we’ve spent in the past eighteen years to treat Willow’s illness!” “Imported medicine, special nutritional powder, regular check-ups… which one isn’t an astronomical figure? For this money, Mom has scrimped and saved, not even daring to buy a decent piece of clothing for herself!” Mom pointed at the numbers, her eyes red as she spoke to Asher. “Son, don’t blame Mom for being strict with you. Our family is poor because of your sister’s illness. Mom doesn’t let you eat sugar because she’s afraid of triggering her, afraid she’ll get sick and we’ll have to spend money again! Our family really can’t afford it anymore!” “If you want to hate, then hate this damned fate! Don’t ever hate your sister, she doesn’t want to be a burden on us either!” Mom hugged Asher, weeping inconsolably, as if she were the most helpless, long-suffering mother in the world. I was wrapped in a blanket, my teeth still chattering, but my heart had completely turned cold. Sure enough, Asher picked up the ledger and looked at me, his eyes completely devoid of understanding, only a deeper, heavier hatred. It was a hatred that wished to get rid of me immediately, that wished I would drop dead so he and this family could finally be free!

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My contract husband’s spiritual entity is a snow leopard. Whenever it gets close, it trembles and lets out a low growl. It also headbutts me. I thought it didn’t like me, so I gently suggested to Marcus that he keep it contained. But then I saw the live comments flickering in my vision: 「This leopard is trying to meow but sounds like it’s hacking up a year-old furball.」 「Sentinel: Honey, I love you! Honey: Why is this leopard headbutting me?」 「The wife has no spiritual entity, so she doesn’t know that Marcus is this shameless snow leopard.」 At the same time, I heard Marcus’s voice in my head: 「Just slap it. That’ll do the trick.」 A slap? I thought. Isn’t that more of a reward for you? 1 Marcus has gray-blue eyes. Exactly like the snow leopard currently rubbing against my calf. The only difference was the deep, purring rumble vibrating in the creature’s throat. Its round, shimmering blue eyes never left my face. I still couldn’t quite connect this massive cat with the man standing across the room. After I heard his mental suggestion, the comment feed exploded: 「When your wife slaps you, the first thing you notice is her scent.」 「What a way to reward himself. Marcus is a true connoisseur.」 「Aren’t Sentinels supposed to be impulsive hotheads? What’s this guy playing at?」 「Does anyone else see how cute Mochi is when he looks up like that?! I think Audrey is about to melt.」 「Wait, you’re telling me Marcus, the Chief Sentinel’s, spiritual entity is named Mochi?」 2 Marcus and I got married a month ago. The moment we signed the papers, he was called away on an urgent mission. After a rushed apology, he was gone, only returning today. My supervisor gave me the day off, considering a Guide’s primary duty is to provide spiritual soothing for their Sentinel. But the second I walked in the door, I was blocked by the snow leopard, leaving me no chance to get reacquainted with my new husband. Seeing me frozen in place, Marcus took a step closer. “Don’t be afraid. He’s just a little excited. He won’t hurt you.” I could smell the faint, clean scent of steam from his recent shower. I’d never been this close to a Sentinel before. I was a little nervous. I reached out and absently stroked the snow leopard’s ear. “What’s his name?” The next second, Marcus swayed on his feet. My hand met empty air. The snow leopard had vanished. I was about to say that I wasn’t scared of him anymore, that he didn’t need to put him away, when I saw Marcus’s jaw tighten. He spoke, his voice serious. “He needs to rest.” “Oh,” I said softly. I remembered then that he’d been on a mission for weeks. I discreetly started to back out of the bedroom. “Then I won’t disturb—” As I passed him, I noticed the tips of his ears were bright red. The comments mercilessly exposed him: 「Sentinels have heightened senses. Just a light touch on the ear from his wife and the whole leopard is about to roll over in ecstasy.」 「Little Marcus is on the verge of popping up to say hello to the wife.」 「Marcus, are you even a Sentinel? You compressed a three-month mission into one, worked nonstop to get back, and this is what you’re giving us?」 I paused. “Do you… need me to perform a soothing?” I asked, hesitating. “The people at the Citadel taught me the basics.” The words were barely out of my mouth before I regretted them. He was the Chief Sentinel. I was a deficient Guide with no spiritual entity and only a sliver of psychic energy. What good could I possibly do? I was so out of my league. Just as I was about to turn and flee in shame, a thick, furry tail curled around my calf. The snow leopard pushed me, and I tumbled onto the bed. Marcus immediately lay down on the other side. “My mindscape is dangerous. Just being near me is enough.” I didn’t understand what he meant at first. Not until a big, furry paw gently covered my eyes. We were just… sleeping. Wrapped in blankets. A stranger of a husband on one side, a giant, rumbling cat on the other. I thought it would be an impossible night. But when I opened my eyes again, it was morning. The room was empty. I assumed he’d been called away on another mission. Not thinking much of it, I got up and headed for the bathroom. Halfway there, I heard the sound of running water. Marcus hadn’t left? The next second, the comments flooded my vision: 「Never thought the wife would be such a wild sleeper. Like an octopus. Marcus held back all night, he’s about to explode.」 「It’s been over two hours. Is this the stamina of the Chief Sentinel?」 「A moment of silence for the wife’s future.」 I was still groggy and didn’t process it right away. Not until I heard a ragged gasp, barely audible over the shower, and then a broken whisper. He was saying my name. My face flushed hot. I turned to go to the downstairs bathroom, but the comments kept scrolling furiously: 「Marcus’s pocket is bulging. What did he stuff in there?」 「What could possibly be in the wife’s bathroom?」 「I think I know.」 「Me too. No wonder it’s been two hours.」 「Stop being so cryptic, AAAAAH!」 The moment I stepped into the bathroom, the words vanished. I dawdled inside for a long time, until I got a message from Marcus saying he’d left. Only then did I creep out. He was gone. I went back into the bathroom and looked around. My entire face felt like it was on fire. A few days ago, a friend had sent me a silk slip dress as a gift. I’d complained that the design was way too daring, but the fabric felt incredible. Since Marcus was away, I figured no one would see me if I wore it to bed. The only problem was that it wrinkled easily, so I had a habit of hanging it up in the bathroom after taking it off. But now, it was gone. 3 With Marcus’s whereabouts unknown, I had nothing to do at home, so I cancelled my leave and went back to the office. As it happened, a new Guide intern had just started and had no one to mentor him, so I sat next to him to help out. Suddenly, I felt a weight on my lap. It was a chubby orange tabby. The intern’s face went crimson. “I’m so sorry! I just awakened, I can’t control him very well yet!” I couldn’t resist stroking the cat’s head. “It’s okay. He’s adorable.” We were both Guides, after all. It was the perfect excuse to get my hands on a cat. The tabby was soft and pliant, a world away from the dense, heavy presence of the snow leopard. I lost myself in the simple joy of petting him. Even after the intern left for a meeting, I stayed at my desk, playing with the cat’s paws. I never expected Marcus to show up at my office. He lifted the chubby cat out of my arms by the scruff of its neck. “Can spiritual entities get pregnant?” His words were a mortal wound to the cat’s pride. It let out an indignant meow and vanished on the spot. The moment I got in the car, I was tackled by the snow leopard. It licked my face with wild abandon, the rough tongue tickling me until tears streamed from my eyes. I could only plead with Marcus for help with my eyes. He reached over and peeled Mochi off me, pulling me up. But a second later, we were both knocked over. Thankfully, the car was on auto-pilot. Sandwiched between the snow leopard and Marcus, I struggled for breath. The comments flew across my vision: 「The leopard smelled a strange cat on his wife and is now marking his territory.」 「Can someone please explain to me how the Chief Sentinel can be knocked over by his own spiritual entity?」 「Fun fact: on the battlefield, this leopard can shatter an enemy’s skull with a single swipe.」 「Let’s not talk about that.」 … As Marcus helped me up, I couldn’t stop my mind from racing as I stared at his face. Six months ago, agents from the Citadel had found me in a small border town. According to federal law, all Guides discovered in the wild must be brought under the Citadel’s control. I grew up in an orphanage, with no family, and certainly no spiritual entity. I never knew I was a Guide. I only knew that entering the Citadel meant one thing: waiting for the system to match you with a Sentinel. But on the way to the Citadel, our convoy was attacked. Marcus and his soldiers drove off the Wanderers. He told me our families were old friends. It was only then that I learned my parents had been high-level researchers for the state. They were killed in a targeted attack on scientists when I was six. I was lost in the chaos. At the Citadel, I attended classes with the others. Marcus visited occasionally. I heard from others that he was heavily criticized for not having a Guide. Many worried he would lose control without spiritual soothing. Meanwhile, I was facing my own mandatory matching. When I proposed a partnership, Marcus had a strange look on his face. He said he could help me apply for a deferment. “…Marriage is a serious matter, especially for a Guide.” I shook my head. “It’s going to be a forced match sooner or later anyway.” Besides, I really didn’t want to stay in the Citadel, learning flower arranging all day.

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