Category: English

1 The vows were on our lips when the doors to the chapel burst open. My groom, Lucian Vance, head of a weapons empire, was about to become a husband. And, it seemed, a father. He stiffened, then immediately released my hands and grabbed his jacket, ready to bolt. “Arabella, she’s in trouble. I have to go,” he said, his voice urgent, his eyes devoid of a single shred of guilt for the woman he was about to leave at the altar. A hush fell over the cathedral. Every guest, every powerful figure from the city’s underworld, turned to stare. “Lucian, I don’t give a damn who Isla is,” I said, my voice ringing out, clear and cold. “But this isn’t just our wedding. It’s an alliance between the Vance and Stanton families. Are you willing to burn that bridge—to break that treaty—for a mistress?” Lucian froze, clearly stunned that I would challenge him so publicly. The whispers from the pews grew louder. “That poor Stanton girl. Finding out on her wedding day he has another woman…” “I heard she’s some nightclub dancer. And pregnant with his child…” In another life, I threw a fit. I threatened to kill myself to stop him from leaving, forcing him to complete the ceremony. But Isla died in childbirth, along with their son. He never even got to say goodbye. For that, he hated me. He locked me away in a gilded cage, a sunless villa where I became his prisoner. And when it was my turn to give birth, he smiled and told the doctors to remove a bullet from one of his men first, leaving me to bleed out on a cold operating table. This life, I would make sure everyone knew that the Vances had betrayed me first. This life, Lucian Vance would pay for his choice. “Mr. Vance, it’s an emergency! Miss Isla is in labor, and the doctors say it’s a difficult birth! They said you have to come now!” A young woman with a perfectly made-up face burst into the ceremony, interrupting us. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Mr. Vance, please, you have to save Miss Isla! She’s carrying your child!” My grip on my bouquet tightened. Across from me, Lucian’s face had gone pale with shock. “What did you say? A difficult birth? How?” He was about to abandon the entire wedding, all our guests, and run. In my last life, this was the moment I stopped him, forcing him to finish the wedding and sealing his eternal hatred for me. This time, I wouldn’t stand in his way. I ripped the veil from my head. “Lucian, who is Isla? And why is she saying she’s pregnant with your child?” I let my voice tremble, my face a mask of shock and devastation. The guests immediately turned their sympathetic gazes upon me. The whispers started again. “Poor Arabella. Her wedding isn’t even over, and her husband’s mistress is giving birth.” “This is a major union between two families. The Vances are showing zero respect for the Stantons.” Lucian shot me an impatient look. “Arabella, it’s my child. I can’t let her die. I’ll explain later.” He turned to leave again. “Wait.” I stepped in front of him. “Today is our wedding day. You’re going to leave me at the altar for another woman, in front of all these people? What does that say about the Stanton family’s honor?” “If you already had someone you loved, why didn’t you say so? Why did you wait until our wedding day to humiliate me?” “A Stanton woman does not have to beg to be married into the Vance family.” Lucian shoved my hand away. “I’m not refusing to marry you, but this is a matter of life and death! I can’t just ignore it!” My eyes reddened, and a single tear traced a perfect path down my cheek. “But this alliance was set in stone by our families. The invitations have been sent, the contracts signed. If you walk out that door right now, this union is void. You can explain that to our parents tomorrow.” My tears began to fall like broken pearls. This time, I had learned how to play the victim. I would make sure the entire world knew that Lucian Vance, and the entire Vance family, had wronged me. Lucian’s parents, their faces burning with shame from the surrounding gossip, finally stepped in. “Lucian, stop this nonsense! Today is your wedding day with Arabella. You can’t just walk out!” “Get back here and finish the ceremony!” his father commanded. The young assistant fell to her knees again. “Sir, Madam, Miss Isla is carrying the Vance family’s first grandson! Can you really be so heartless?” “Mr. Vance, she followed you without a title or a name, willing to bear your children. Are you really going to let her die?” Lucian echoed her plea. “Father, Mother, that’s your grandson. Can you truly stand by and do nothing?” He then turned his cold eyes back to me. “Since this is a family alliance, the marriage is inevitable. Why the rush? Or is the precious Stanton daughter that desperate to marry into the Vance family? It’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” His tone softened slightly. “Arabella, I know you’re a reasonable woman. Once you’re Mrs. Vance, I’m sure you and Isla can learn to get along, can’t you?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Lucian, you and I are not yet married. This ceremony is not complete. I have no intention of playing sisters with your mistress.” I threw my bouquet to the ground. “If you insist on saving her, I won’t stop you. But the alliance between our families cannot be jeopardized by your personal affairs.” “Can the Vance family afford the price of breaking our contract?” Lucian’s father’s face was a mask of fury. “Lucian, this deal is worth billions! Are you going to risk our entire family for some woman?” Lucian was dismissive. “Father, I already agreed to the alliance, didn’t I? What does it matter when the wedding happens? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” He completely ignored the gravity of the situation. “What’s next? Are you going to try and schedule when we sleep together too?” Seeing that he had finally pushed his father too far, I smiled faintly and took a step forward, addressing Lucian’s parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance,” I said, my voice clear and deliberate. “As this is an alliance between our two families, the contract doesn’t specify which Vance son I am to marry.” “Since Lucian already has a woman he loves, I will not stand in his way. Our engagement is hereby terminated. The man I will marry today is the Vance family’s second son, Adrian.” The entire cathedral erupted. Lucian burst out laughing. “What did you say? You want to marry my brother? He’s nothing but a brute who only knows how to fight! I am the future head of the Vance family! Have you lost your mind?” I looked him straight in the eye. “So what? You may be the heir, but you cheated during our engagement and fathered a child with another woman. Why would I marry a man with no loyalty? Adrian may not work at the headquarters, but he is capable and honorable. He is a thousand times the man you are.” I gave him a mocking look. “Or are you having second thoughts? Do you want to marry me now? Oh, dear. I wonder how Isla is doing. She must be in so much pain…” At the mention of Isla, the assistant tugged frantically on Lucian’s arm. “Mr. Vance, we can’t wait any longer! Miss Isla is fading!” Lucian glared at me with contempt. “Fine. If you’d rather marry my brother than be my wife, I’ll grant you your wish. After my son is born, I’ll marry his mother. Arabella Stanton, you will regret this.” With that, he ripped off his tuxedo jacket, threw it to the ground, and stormed out in front of everyone. I turned to my assistant. “Contact my father and mother. Tell them to bring the marriage contract they signed with Lucian.” My parents arrived within minutes. My father’s face was thunderous. “A fine welcome from the Vances! Did you think the Stantons were a family to be trifled with? For Lucian to cause such a scene on his wedding day for a common mistress… don’t blame us for turning hostile.” I stopped him. “Father, Lucian and I have made things clear. I will not marry him. But the alliance is for our families’ mutual benefit. It never stipulated which son I had to marry. Now that Lucian has proven his disloyalty, I refuse to marry him. But he isn’t the only son. There is still Adrian.” My mother whispered, “Arabella, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself. Even if we break the alliance, it would be the Vances’ fault.” I smiled softly. Breaking a family alliance of this magnitude wasn’t easy. But switching the groom? That was much simpler. The underworld didn’t need to know whether I married the first or second son of the Vance family. They only needed to know our families were united. That was enough to keep our enemies at bay. Besides, in my last life, when Lucian drove me to my death for Isla, it was Adrian who stood up at my funeral and condemned his brother’s treachery, exposing Lucian for the monster he truly was. My father considered for a moment, then nodded in agreement and turned to Lucian’s father. “Mr. Vance, your thoughts?” Mr. and Mrs. Vance nodded eagerly. “This is an excellent solution. We are so sorry for what Arabella has had to endure. We must call for Adrian immediately.” My father held up a hand, stopping them. “My daughter has certainly been wronged. Lucian’s deplorable behavior and public breach of contract is an insult to both our families. He fathered a child with another woman during his engagement to my daughter and chose to reveal it on their wedding day.” “If the Vance family does not make a significant gesture, the Stanton family elders will assume this behavior was condoned.” Lucian’s father was stunned. “What do you propose?” I spoke up. “Since you feel I have been wronged, and I have chosen not to escalate this scandal for the sake of both our families, the best solution is for you to convene a family council. Revoke Lucian’s position as heir, and name Adrian the new head of the Vance syndicate.” “After all, Lucian has proven himself to be a reckless liability. Adrian, on the other hand, is exceptionally capable and has earned the respect of everyone. Don’t you think he is better suited to lead?” Defeated, Lucian’s father finally nodded. “Very well. As you say. I will call a family meeting tomorrow and propose the change of heir.” “The second son has arrived.” Adrian was standing at the back of the crowd. I didn’t know how long he’d been there. He walked up the aisle. His father clapped him on the shoulder. “The family is in your hands now. Since your brother has no regard for our interests, let him have his freedom. The position of heir to the Vance family is no longer his.” Adrian looked at me, his gaze deep and steady. “Miss Stanton, I am a practical man. I don’t have time for poetry or romance. I may not be able to take you shopping or for tea. But I swear on my name, if you will have me, I will protect you for the rest of my life. Will you?” I smiled. “I will.” To the sound of the wedding march, I put my veil back on, and Adrian and I exchanged rings, becoming husband and wife. As the chandeliers sparkled above us, a wave of relief washed over me. This time, I was finally free of Lucian Vance. And I had taken his birthright. I couldn’t wait to see if he would regret losing everything for Isla. The story of how Lucian Vance abandoned his bride at the altar for his mistress spread through our world overnight. The next day, as Adrian and I were preparing for the formal tea ceremony with the elders, Lucian’s father sent men to bring him back to the estate. He didn’t come alone. He brought Isla, who was holding a newborn baby. She was dressed in a designer coat and dripping with jewels, clinging to Lucian’s arm as if she were a fragile doll. She bowed demurely with the baby in her arms. “Father, Mother, my name is Isla. Orion, say hello to your grandpa and grandma.” She cooed at the baby, a smug look on her face. Lucian’s parents were livid. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you bring her here today!” Lucian declared, “Father, Mother, Isla risked her life to give me Orion. He is our family’s first grandson!” “Isla and I are in love. I have decided to marry her and make her an honorable Mrs. Vance.” Isla gazed at him, her eyes shining with adoration. “Lucian, having you is all I need in this life. My son and I want for nothing. Please don’t argue with your parents.” Lucian pulled her closer. “You gave me a son. You are a hero to this family. My mind is made up. You will be my wife.” He saw me then, dressed in a traditional red gown for the ceremony, and his tone softened. “I know I wronged you yesterday, leaving you to face our guests alone. I’m surprised you were so understanding. I will make it up to you.” “What I said about canceling our engagement was just in the heat of the moment. I’ll treat you well from now on.” “But Isla gave me a son, so I must marry her. You can live here with us. She has a gentle nature and isn’t suited to manage a household. You can be in charge. It will be a sign of respect. You and Isla must get along.” I frowned, listening to his nonsense, about to speak, but someone else spoke for me. “Brother, what are you saying to my wife? Arabella, it’s time to serve the elders.” Adrian stepped out from behind me, his arm gently guiding me forward. Lucian was dumbfounded. “What wife? What are you talking about? The one who married Arabella was me, not you!” Adrian smiled, holding my hand tightly. “No. You didn’t finish the ceremony, remember? You ran off to be with your Isla. Everyone in the underworld knows that the man who exchanged rings with her and spent our wedding night with her… was me.” Lucian yelled, “Impossible! Father, Mother, how could you let this happen? This makes us a laughingstock!” His father’s face was grim. “You’re just now realizing we became a laughingstock yesterday? If it weren’t for Adrian, the Vance family’s name would be in ruins!” Suddenly, a formal announcement cut through the argument.

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1 Waking up in the middle of the night, my husband was crying, begging me to let him see the girl one last time. “I’ll just see her one last time and then I’ll come back. Please, can you do that for me?” In seven years of marriage, this was only the second time he’d spoken to me with such a pleading, placating tone. The first time was when I walked in on the girl scrambling out of his office, disheveled. He was afraid I’d make a scene, so he grabbed my hand and begged, “Honey, I promise I’ll break it off with her.” “Don’t divorce me, I’d die without you. Please?” I gave him a second chance. And he kept his word, diligently returning to family life, becoming the perfect husband everyone praised. Until tonight. I turned on the bedside lamp, looked into his eyes, and answered seriously, “Go. Don’t leave yourself with any regrets.” I had no regrets left. I hoped he wouldn’t either. … The sudden, harsh light made Aaron Gould instinctively close his eyes. The tear tracks on his face became starkly clear, glaringly so. I suddenly found the whole scene absurd, almost laughable. This man, who hadn’t even flinched when he took a rebar blow for me during our youth, nearly losing his right arm, was now weeping like this over saying goodbye to a girl in her early twenties. His drunken haze gradually receded as he scrutinized my expression. A few seconds later, he seemed like a tightly coiled spring that suddenly unspooled, collapsing onto the bed. “You can make a scene like before, you can hit me and forbid me to go.” “Why pretend you don’t care, just to make me feel guilty? It’s pretty pathetic, Sophia.” His expression was one of suppressed agony. Ever since Aaron returned to the family, such suffocating atmospheres had become common. Outsiders, unaware, would comment that we were more in love than ever after our seven-year itch. They would joke that Professor Gould now ran home from work like a lovesick teenager, unable to be apart from me for a second. His social media profile picture was me, his phone voluntarily submitted for my inspection. He was the epitome of a devoted husband. But only we knew the turbulent storm brewing beneath that seemingly calm exterior. After that incident, I became sensitive and fragile, and my words grew sharp and critical. If he said a certain necklace looked good, making me appear younger, I would demand to know if he was tired of me, thinking me old and faded because he had someone younger, fresher in his heart. He once took me to a trendy restaurant for a date, and everything was going well. But when I heard him casually say, “Their signature dish is quite good,” I suddenly erupted, demanding why he would bring me to a place he’d been to with another woman. Yet, I had never been like this before. 2 I used to be cheerful and optimistic, the life of the party among family and friends. How had I become like this? Honestly, the time I caught him cheating, I thought about divorce. He was the one who, back then, had spent a whole month begging me, swearing countless times that he would never make the same mistake. Yet later, he was also the one who stared at me with a cold face as I spiraled, asking if I was done making a scene. During my most emotional breakdown, I smashed nearly everything in the house, pointing at him and screaming hysterically: “Do you think I only forgave you that one time?!” “No, every night I lay awake, unable to sleep, remembering, I would forgive you again.” “Why are you the one who made the mistake, yet I’m the one suffering?!” The glass wasn’t broken by me, yet I walked barefoot over it every single day. Tonight was our eighth wedding anniversary. Everything had started so well. Aaron, uncharacteristically, drank a lot. With every sip, he would tell me “I love you.” He must have said it a hundred times, and we both blushed, as if we were back in our honeymoon phase. I even quietly thought to myself, Maybe, I should just forgive him. Let’s pretend none of it ever happened. But only moments ago, I suddenly realized how ridiculous I was. His breakdown wasn’t because he loved me. It was because another woman was leaving. So, suddenly, I felt no more regrets. I pulled out the divorce papers I’d prepared long ago from the bedside table and handed them to him. “Aaron Gould, I’m setting you free.” But he shot up from the bed. “Sophia, are you trying to drive me to my death before you’re satisfied?!” “Summer Vance is leaving for Toronto soon; we’ll never have a chance to see each other again. I’m just going as her professor to see her off. Is that really so wrong?!” His phone rang abruptly. He answered, his voice incredibly gentle. “Mmm, wait for me. I’ll be there in half an hour.” Before leaving, Aaron tossed the divorce papers into the trash. “Everything can wait until I get back.” “But divorce? Don’t even think about it.” The door slammed shut with a bang. In the room, only my own muffled sobs remained. I checked; there were no flights to Toronto tonight. Sure enough, not long after, Summer Vance sent me a photo. Aaron, bare-chested, was resting peacefully and securely in her arms. [Professor Gould says he can only sleep soundly in my presence now.] [Do you think he won’t divorce you because he still loves you? He just doesn’t want to affect the associate dean selection committee next week.] Looking at the divorce papers, meant to split our assets evenly, now discarded in the trash. I suddenly laughed. He was the one who betrayed me. So he should be the one to pay the price. 3 Aaron and I were college sweethearts. After graduation, he stayed on as a professor, and I went to work for a foreign company. But after we got married, he asked if I could resign, citing his busy school projects, and focus on our family. At the time, I was caught in the tumultuous infighting of my company, so I agreed. But now I was divorcing him. Returning to the workplace was inevitable. However, having been out of society for too long, the several-year gap on my resume would make it difficult to find a job with similar pay. So I decided to go abroad to polish my credentials, which would also make up for the shortcomings on my resume. As I used the computer in the study to browse the application requirements for foreign universities, I unexpectedly discovered a private folder. The title read: [To My Dearest]. Those three short words gradually blurred before my eyes. I, as if disbelieving, entered my birthday, his birthday, our wedding anniversary. I stubbornly tried every number with special meaning to us. But it was still wrong. Until I clicked on Summer Vance’s social media, found her birthday, and entered it. The folder unlocked. Even though I already knew the answer, seeing the result with my own eyes made my heart ache so much I could barely breathe. The folder was a hefty 4.3 GB. It was meticulously filled with everything about Summer Vance. A discarded hair clip, picked up by him, placed over his heart, and photographed. Videos of Summer Vance sleeping on the desk while they rushed projects in the studio together. Voice messages Summer Vance sent him, her address to him evolving from the initially distant “Professor Gould” to later “Brother,” then “Husband.” Aaron had carefully recorded his mood next to each entry. He called her his “Little Moon,” and he wrote: [Little Moon, I often feel like a sick dog chained up, only when I occasionally look up at you does my soul find release.] [Today you said you would give yourself to me as a gift, but I refused. Not because I don’t love you, but because I dare not profane you.] He hated that he hadn’t met her sooner, and even more, that he already had a family before he met her. I felt like a thief peeking into someone else’s privacy, watching their bone-deep love affair unfold through the screen. The last entry was from the day I discovered their affair. Aaron had written a suicide note, filled with guilt for Summer Vance. His address to her had changed; he called her, “My wife.” [My wife, if one day I unfortunately pass away, all my property will be yours.] [As for Sophia, I wronged her. A sum to ensure her comfortable old age will suffice.] All the blood in my body had turned completely cold, my hand gripping the mouse trembling uncontrollably. A wave of nausea surged in my stomach, and I hugged the trash can, throwing up with a retch. Just then, Aaron surprisingly returned. The moment he saw the computer screen, he panicked, stammering out an excuse. “No, no, it’s not like that, Sophia. Listen to me.” “I just wanted to vent my emotions. There’s nothing else between us…” Before he could finish, I wiped my mouth and sat up straight. Looking into his eyes, I said each word clearly: “I’m giving you two choices: either she leaves right now.” “Or I’ll expose all your disgusting affairs!” 4 Just as I expected, Aaron chose the first option. Not only was he afraid of damaging his career, but he also couldn’t bear for his “Little Moon” to be tainted in the slightest. So, when Summer Vance came to find me, I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I was afraid she wouldn’t. I chose a quiet coffee shop for our meeting, a place Aaron and I used to frequent. Summer Vance looked exactly as she did in her social media photos: full of youthful collagen and vibrant energy. But she also had a common youthful flaw: she couldn’t keep her composure. “Big Sis, you saw the photos I sent you, right? We’ve already slept together.” “Tsk, tsk, I just casually mentioned leaving, and he got so desperate.” “But thank you too. If you hadn’t pushed him so hard, how else would he have realized how good I am?” She was like a ruffled hen, eager to provoke me into divorcing Aaron. But I just shrugged with a nonchalant smile, my gaze fixed on the bag she was carrying. “A new L-brand model. Aaron certainly doesn’t hesitate to spend money on you.” Summer Vance curved her lips triumphantly. But before she could speak, I continued, “I’ve researched your family; you can’t afford a six-figure bag.” “Little sister, let me give you a quick legal lesson. The money he spends on you is marital property. If we divorce, you’ll have to return half of it.” “But I suppose most of the money has already been spent?” “Or I could go to your parents. Then the entire village will know that you, Summer Vance, are a mistress in college!” Summer Vance’s smile froze. She shot up from her seat, her once delicate features instantly twisting into something almost grotesque. “You wouldn’t dare!” “You can try me and see if I dare!” Although I was sitting, my presence overshadowed hers. Just then, the girl, who had been so aggressive, suddenly glanced behind me. The next second, she quickly grabbed her coffee cup and splashed it all over her own face. When she spoke again, her eyes were red. “Sister, I’m sorry, there’s really nothing between me and Professor Gould.” “I’m leaving the country soon. Please, don’t pressure me anymore, okay?” Urgent footsteps approached from behind. I’d never seen Aaron look so frantic. He immediately pulled Summer Vance into his arms, tenderly wiping the coffee from her face. When he looked at me, his eyes were icy, but because we were in public, he didn’t dare say a word. I watched him with an ironic smile. Just then, several students trailing behind him, clearly his students who had just come from a meeting, notebooks still in hand, began to chatter. “So this is Professor Gould’s infamous shrew of a wife? Tsk, tsk, no wonder Professor Gould doesn’t want to go home!” “It’s the modern age, and she’s still playing the ‘aggrieved wife catching the mistress’ role! Spreading malicious rumors about a girl should be punishable, right?” “Exactly! Summer said she’s being forced to leave the country because of her, and she still comes here to humiliate her!” With each word they spoke, Summer Vance’s eyes reddened a bit more. And Aaron’s face paled a bit more. I raised an eyebrow, then in a move no one expected, walked over to Summer Vance. I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face, then smiled at the students. “See? If I really wanted to hit her, I wouldn’t do something so ineffective and stupid.” Summer Vance clutched her face and tumbled into Aaron’s arms, fiercely suppressing the hatred in her eyes. Aaron finally lost his temper, shouting, “Enough! Sophia, don’t go too far!” I’m going too far? More was yet to come! But before I could retaliate, one of the boys defending Summer Vance shoved me hard. “What else do you want to do! If you touch her again, I’ll call the police!” I lost my balance for a moment and fell to the ground, my head hitting the table corner hard. For a moment, the world spun. The boy also panicked, quickly telling Aaron he didn’t mean it. But Aaron only gave me a deep look, then said nothing, leading his students away. I clutched my throbbing head and barely managed to stand up from the floor. I didn’t watch Aaron and Summer Vance leaving, supporting each other. Instead, my gaze went to a hidden spot on the ceiling.

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My long-distance husband, Cameron, claimed he had to work through the holidays, so I decided to fly out and surprise him. The only seats left were business class. I stared at the five-figure price tag, swallowed hard, and wiped out a year’s savings. Naturally, when I finally settled in, I couldn’t even figure out how to pull out the tray table. The impeccably dressed woman next to me sneered. “First time in business, honey?” I managed an awkward smile. “I’m sorry. You must be an executive. You look incredibly successful.” She scoffed, running a hand over her custom-tailored jacket. “Me? No. My sugar daddy is the CEO. If a plane doesn’t have business class, he charters a private jet for me.” I blinked. “A sugar daddy? That must be a rare arrangement.” “Not really. I’m his junior employee. I make mistakes all the time—cost him a fortune, actually. He’s always yelling at me and making me cry. Then I cry, and then… you know.” “How ironic,” I murmured. “My husband also has a female co-worker who’s always messing up.” “You’re married?” She looked me up and down, a look of casual disdain. “My Daddy has a wife around your age. He says he’s been over her for years—that she’s got zero novelty. Nothing like when I just flip my hair, you know? I told him I wanted to see him for the New Year. Poof—he tells his wife he has to work overtime.” My eyes locked onto the diamond on her ring finger. It was the exact duplicate of the wedding band I’d lost years ago. A cold, sick dread seized me. Wait. Cameron was a mid-level manager, scraping by. When did he become a CEO? … I stared at her ring finger. “That ring… it’s a wedding ring. Did you and your… Daddy… get married?” “This?” Kaia examined the solitaire, turning it slowly. “Oh, I made him take it from his original wife.” I froze. “I hadn’t planned to give the old broad a hard time,” Kaia continued, her voice light and careless, “but then she had the audacity to lose the baby and need him at the hospital right on my birthday. I spent my birthday completely alone.” I instinctively placed my hand on my stomach, the memory of that cruel winter flooding back. I was three months along. The black ice on the sidewalk outside our tiny rented apartment. Cameron was earning so little back then, an e-bike was a luxury. I fell hard. The baby, just blood on the ground. Cameron had stayed with me for three days and three nights, but when I woke up, the wedding ring was gone along with the child. “It’s okay, Grace,” he’d whispered, holding me tight. “We’ll have another baby. I’ll buy you a new ring.” I shook my head, tears blurring everything. “No, you said the company was doing layoffs. We need to save. When you make it big, then you can buy me a new one.” He’d looked at me, his eyes red, on the verge of crying. “I’m sorry, I failed you.” Kaia’s voice pulled me back. “So, you just asked him to take his wife’s ring and give it to you?” “Yep. He actually refused at first, said he’d buy me a more expensive one. But that old woman was so arrogant just because she was his wife. If I didn’t punish her, she’d be walking all over me, right?” I clamped my jaw shut. “Honestly, this diamond is cheap compared to what else he buys me. But it’s the wedding ring.” Kaia leaned back and gave me a smug smile. “A woman who lets herself get to that point—she deserves nothing better.” I squeezed the fabric of my dress until my knuckles were white. I forced a small, sickly smile. “Your Daddy is so generous. His wife must be getting quite the payoff to keep her quiet, right?” Kaia laughed, leaning in conspiratorially. “Tell you a secret: the old woman still doesn’t even know he’s a CEO.” “Why?” Kaia admired her diamond-studded manicure. “Because what’s the point? She spent all her best years struggling with him. If you were a man, once you got rich, would you spend money on a wife who’s past her prime? Can money bring back her youth?” The reflection in the window glass showed my own slightly drawn, exhausted face. Kaia nudged me. “Sister, you’re older than me, but you still have potential. We have a connection, so let me give you some advice. Women need to invest in fillers and skincare. Your skin looks a little dry. I bet your husband isn’t interested in you much anymore, is he?” I simply stared at her. Her skin was flawless, taut. I used to look like that. Maybe even better. Ten years of poverty and hard work in rented apartments—when I see old photos, I barely recognize myself. “Skincare… is expensive.” “So what?” Kaia shrugged. “My Daddy gives me a $50,000 monthly allowance, and he covers all my beauty treatments.” I watched the way her perfectly winged eyeliner caught the light, a tiny shard of glitter fixed at the corner. My hands were shaking. “How long have you been his… trophy?” “Since June 12th, 2023. Why?” My trembling intensified. June 12th, 2023. The day my mother died. My mother needed 150,000 for surgery. I remembered Cameron begging everyone. He gathered all his savings, all his earnings, scraping together 100,000. It was everything he had. I found eight thousand more. It wasn’t enough. My mother was gone. He held me, tears pouring down his face. “I failed you, Grace. I’m a bastard. I couldn’t even earn enough for your mother’s medicine! You suffer so much being with me…” My heart was a raw wound, but I wiped his tears away. “You did your best. Mom knew it. I know it. I’m the one who couldn’t find the rest of the $50,000.” His tears fell onto my hands. He gripped me tightly. “Just wait. Just wait. I promise, we won’t struggle like this anymore.” I nodded through my grief. $50,000. He could have gotten it. “Sister, you know what? That month, his wife’s mother also needed $50,000 for her care.” Kaia winked. “He was going to give it to her.” I stopped breathing. “Did he give it to you for your allowance instead?” “No. He’s rich, $50,000 is nothing to him. I told him if her mother died, the wife would be totally alone, without any family. Then, even if she found out about me, she wouldn’t dare leave him.” My teeth were about to shatter. “Plus, I really had my eye on a new Chanel that month. It was exactly $50,000.” I glared at her. “Aren’t you afraid his wife will find out what you did?” “Please. I’m smarter than that.” Kaia laughed. “I told him to give his wife $100,000—to pretend it was every penny he had. That way, she’d think her husband tried his best and she’d never look into his bank accounts!” Her face soured momentarily. “The only thing that sucked was his reason for agreeing to it. He said it was because he wanted to prevent the old woman from leaving him if she ever discovered me. Ugh. She’s luckier than she knows.” SMACK! A stinging slap landed unexpectedly across Kaia’s face. Her drink overturned. A flight attendant rushed over to clean the mess. Kaia was furious. “Are you insane! What the hell was that for!” “That,” I spat, “is for being a brazen home-wrecker!” The flight attendants hurried to separate us, moving Kaia to an empty seat farther down the row, soothing her with soft voices. Kaia finally settled, drying her hands with a napkin from the flight attendant, and looked at me with pure contempt. “I hate sanctimonious busybodies like you. Always harping on about mistresses. Honestly…” She scoffed. “It just means you’re old and you can’t hook a man anymore. Back in your prime, you would have begged for this life!” “You—” The flight attendant grabbed my arm, stopping me from lunging. I bit down on my retort and sank back into my seat. I didn’t want to cause trouble for the crew. Kaia eyed me again. “I’m telling you the truth. You’re past your expiration date. Your husband is definitely cheating on you, too. Go home and check his phone. A woman like you… men don’t want to come home to.” SPLASH! The new drink the flight attendant had just given me sailed through the air and hit Kaia full in the face. She shrieked. Attendants rushed between us again. The Purser approached me, smiling apologetically. “Ms. Jones, this woman is a valuable client of ours. Please, calm down. May I get you some fruit?” “Valuable client?” I hissed. The Purser leaned in, lowering her voice. “She is with Mr. Coleman, the new CEO. I’m advising you for your own good, Ms. Jones. Mr. Coleman is very protective of her.” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. The plane landed at the connecting airport. Neither of us was disembarking yet. I switched off airplane mode. I sent a text to Cameron: Where are you? He replied instantly with a photo of himself at a desk: Earning money for my wife. For me, or for someone else? No reply. I sent a question mark. The familiar voice came from Kaia’s direction a moment later. “You got juice thrown on you? Who would dare do that to my Sweetheart?” “Some old woman! It’s your fault! If you were here, she wouldn’t have touched me! You ruined my trip!” “Okay, okay… Daddy’s fault.” [Zelle Transfer: $50,000] Kaia’s phone chimed with the automated voice notification. Cameron’s voice was warm. “Go buy some little things you love.” I gripped my armrests. Kaia’s scowl vanished, replaced by a pout. “Hmph! No use. You said you missed me and wanted to spend New Year’s with me! I wouldn’t have been on this flight if it weren’t for that lunatic! No amount of money will fix this!” Cameron didn’t sound annoyed. He sounded amused. “And what about the new villa Daddy bought you?” Kaia’s eyes widened slightly. “My Sweetheart smiled. Are you happy now?” “No, I am not!” She pouted again. “But… fine. I’ll give you a chance. Only because I love you.” “Good. Daddy will make it up to you tonight, okay?” “Three hours. Not a second less!” “The whole night, if you want.” My body shook violently beneath my dress. I thought of our last few visits after he’d been transferred to the city. We barely went beyond hugging and kissing. Every time I tried to initiate sex, he would sigh. “I’m too stressed from work. Let me recuperate, okay?” And he’d leave before he had the chance. Kaia blew a kiss to the camera and ended the video call. It was then that Cameron’s text came through. Wife, why don’t you trust me? Are you sad I have to work through New Year’s? When I get back, I’ll take you to that little rotating hot pot place you love, okay? The plane started its taxi toward the runway. A flight attendant approached Kaia’s new seat with a black, embossed box. “Ms. Rhodes, this is a gift a gentleman asked us to deliver to you.” “Oh! A Prada necklace! How did he know I wanted this one?” The attendant smiled and handed her a card. “Mr. Coleman also asked us to relay a message: ‘He hopes Ms. Rhodes won’t be troubled by any noise, that you remain brave and true to yourself, and that you regard all obstacles as nothing. Mr. Coleman will always stand behind you, and he will always love you.’” I closed my eyes, staring at Cameron’s text about the cheap hot pot place. “Ms. Jones, this diamond is from Mr. Coleman for you.” The Purser handed me a loose stone. I frowned. “For me?” The Purser nodded. “Mr. Coleman knows you and Ms. Rhodes had an unpleasant exchange. He said Ms. Rhodes has high blood pressure and the doctor said she mustn’t get upset. So, Ms. Jones, Mr. Coleman asks that you apologize to Ms. Rhodes. A sincere apology.” I looked at the diamond and laughed—a sound utterly devoid of humor. “Just an apology? Isn’t this a bit much?” “Ha ha, don’t worry about the cost. Mr. Coleman can earn several of these in a single day.” A diamond that cost six figures. He could earn several a day? I rolled the small stone between my fingers. I smiled. A stranger was getting more than I ever did. I nodded. “Fine. An apology it is.” “Ms. Rhodes, Mr. Coleman has sent her to apologize to you!” I bowed slightly. “I’m sorry for striking you. Please forgive me, Ms. Rhodes.” “Oh, I will.” Kaia rose from her seat. “Let me slap you twice, and I’ll forgive you.” The Purser quickly interjected. “Ms. Rhodes, she is older than you. Please be the bigger person and don’t stoop to her level.” “So what if she’s older?” Kaia’s smile was vicious. “This face is already a lost cause anyway. A few slaps won’t make a difference—no man will like her either way. I’ll slap her, she gets a diamond, and she should be grateful.” An attendant tugged my sleeve. “Ma’am, maybe just let her. The whole thing will be over. She is Mr. Coleman’s guest.” “Yes, Ms. Jones. It’s a six-figure diamond. It’s not a loss for you.” Six figures. I would have to struggle and save for a decade to get that much. This tiny stone could buy ten years of my life. I twisted the diamond one last time. CLATTER. I tossed it onto Kaia’s tray table. It rolled and dropped to the floor. “I don’t want it.” SMACK! A slap landed hard on my cheek. Kaia hadn’t hesitated. “How dare you refuse my charity?” The blow was fully intended to hurt. I staggered back two steps. An attendant rushed to steady me. “Ms. Jones, let it go. Ms. Rhodes has always been volatile.” “We’ll find the diamond for you, ma’am.” SMACK! My hand whipped out, catching Kaia across the face with devastating force. She crumpled back into her seat. “You… You hit me back!” “You bet your ass I did!” I moved to strike her again, but the flight crew intervened, pulling us apart. For the rest of the flight, we were monitored closely by the cabin crew. The plane landed. Kaia, red-eyed and enraged, was the first one off the aircraft. I watched her hurry through the jet bridge and rush through the exit. She collapsed into a man’s embrace. Her face was still blotchy from the slap. “What happened?” Cameron’s eyes held more panic than they had on the day of my miscarriage. “Did she hit you again?” “She did! And it’s your fault! That cheap diamond only made her bolder! Nobody has ever dared to hit me before, boo-hoo!” Kaia was an expert crier. No man could resist that sound. “Where is she? I’ll go talk to her.” “Right here.” I stepped out of the jet bridge. Cameron’s body went rigid. I lifted the brim of my cap. “Hello, Mr. Coleman.”

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For my last three days before leaving this world, I decided to get along with Arthur and be the perfect wife he always wanted. I no longer got jealous over his first love, and I stopped throwing tantrums when he stayed out all night. On the first day, he scoffed coldly, “Glad you finally know your place. If you had acted like this sooner, everyone would be happy.” On the second day, his gaze became complicated, his voice thick with confusion, “Maya, why aren’t you angry?” I smiled faintly. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” 1 Before I finally reconnected with the System, Arthur had been giving me the silent treatment for a week. “Host, you’ve finally decided to leave,” the System’s voice chimed, laced with a hint of schadenfreude. I didn’t blame it. Years ago, when I successfully conquered Arthur’s heart and chose to stay in this world, the System had tried its best to dissuade me. “According to my years of experience, hosts who choose to stay never meet a good end.” But back then, I was blindly confident that the love between Arthur and me was indestructible, and I firmly rejected its advice. Now, I could only smile bitterly. “How much time do I have left?” “I can pull you out in exactly three days.” I nodded, deciding to cherish these final three days and get along with Arthur. After the System went silent, I picked up my phone and called Arthur. It was our first time communicating in a week. The call was declined several times in a row. I mechanically redialed. Finally, Arthur’s voice came through, annoyed and irritable: “Maya, are you ever going to stop?” I froze. Even though I was already disappointed, my heart still stung. I deliberately ignored the hostility in his tone and asked gently: “Arthur, are you coming home for dinner tonight? I made your favorite pan-seared ribeye.” There was a long silence on the other end, followed by a light scoff: “I’ll come back, but Maya, I need you to lower your proud head and apologize to Chloe first.” … A week ago, Arthur celebrated his first love Chloe’s birthday. Chloe posted a photo on her social media story: [With you here, I’ll never have to envy anyone else.] In the photo, Chloe had a bit of frosting on her cheek, her hands clasped together making a wish. She was surrounded by designer gift boxes, and Arthur was standing right behind her. Under the warm yellow candlelight, she smiled with pure, innocent joy. Mutual friends commented below, gushing about how sweet they looked. Chloe replied with a shy smiley face. I also left a like and a comment: [I’m so jealous you have my husband to keep you company.] A few minutes later, the post was deleted. Arthur’s call came immediately after. He furiously reprimanded me: “Maya, are you sick in the head? Today is Chloe’s birthday. You purposely tried to ruin her day, didn’t you?” I could hear Chloe sobbing softly in the background. “Arthur, don’t blame Maya. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have shown off that you were celebrating with me.” Arthur immediately softened his tone to coax her. “It has nothing to do with you. She’s just picking a fight with me and using you as a punching bag.” His tone turned cold and hard again as he spoke to me: “But she overestimates her own importance. Nothing is more important than your birthday.” Every word felt like a knife slicing my flesh. I clenched my fists in anger and mocked, “Right. Your first love’s birthday is obviously way more important than your own wedding anniversary.” Arthur’s breathing hitched. He lowered his voice and asked, “Today is our anniversary?” But before I could answer, Chloe’s crying came through the receiver again. “Maya, it’s all my fault. I’ll come apologize to you in person right now…” The tiny bit of guilt Arthur had seemed to vanish instantly. He gently consoled Chloe, then continued to scold me: “It’s just an anniversary. We can celebrate it any year. This is Chloe’s first birthday since she moved back to the States. Maya, can’t you be a little more generous?!” I enunciated every word clearly, telling him that no, I couldn’t. Then I hung up. Intense love and a perfectly stable temper can never coexist, but unfortunately, Arthur didn’t understand that. On the ice cream cake on my counter, the two little kissing figurines had slowly melted, ruining the words “Happy 7th Anniversary.” I picked up the cake and threw it in the trash. My phone chimed with a new message. I opened it to find a provocation from Chloe’s burner account. [Maya, I told you long ago. When forced to choose, Arthur will always choose me. Do you believe me now?] A few hours ago, I didn’t. But now, it was an undeniable fact. Arthur didn’t come home that night. When I woke up the next morning, he was in the dining room eating breakfast. Seeing me, he cast a cold glance and said, “Come to the office with me later and apologize to Chloe. Because of your comment, she felt so guilty she couldn’t sleep all night.” I let out a scoff. “I’m not going.” “I’ve never heard of a rule where the actual wife has to apologize to the mistress.” “Maya, why do you have to be so vicious?!” He slammed his hand on the dining table. “Chloe is just my secretary. Her family is bankrupt, and she has nothing left. Do you not have a shred of sympathy?” The corners of my lips curled up as I looked at him mockingly. “A secretary who sleeps in your bed?” Arthur’s face flushed with fury. He flipped the table. Plates and silverware shattered across the tile floor with a deafening crash. I closed my eyes and turned my head away. The disappointment in my heart layered up, thicker and thicker. How did Arthur turn into this? Arthur growled with resentment, “Since you’re going to be this stubborn, let’s just take a break from each other for a while.” He slammed the door and left. He hadn’t been back for a week. I was so heartbroken I suffered through sleepless nights. But during this time, Chloe’s burner account never stopped updating. [My boss brought me on a business trip to the Maldives! So happy~] [Cry, I accidentally fell on the beach and scraped my knee on a rock. My boss heartachingly scolded me for ten minutes, but I punished him by making him go buy me cake~] [Bonus: A sneaky pic of his abs~ Will my boss hit me if he finds out I took this?] I didn’t argue or throw a fit. I just quietly saved all the screenshots. When someone has rotted to the core, you should throw them away promptly. This morning, Chloe’s post indicated they had returned from the Maldives. … Arthur’s voice continued to come through the receiver: “Maya, did you hear what I said?” My thoughts returned to the present. I replied indifferently, “Okay.” The noisy background on his end suddenly went dead quiet. A few seconds later, Arthur asked again, “What did you say?” I forced a smile onto my lips. “I said, I agree to go apologize to Chloe.” For these final three days, I will fulfill all your demands. And then, I will leave you forever. 2 I followed the location Arthur sent me. The private room at the club was bustling with people. The moment I appeared in the doorway, someone let out a low whistle: “Look who’s here.” The teasing voice was full of anticipation. Ever since Chloe returned, Arthur and I had been having minor fights every three days and major blowouts every five. Everyone in our social circle knew. I scanned the room and found Arthur sitting dead center on the leather sofa. Our eyes met, his expression unreadable. Chloe was sitting right next to him, leaning against him like a fragile little bird. “Sister-in-law, I heard you came to apologize to Chloe,” someone jeered. Arthur’s friends were the absolute best at blowing with the wind. When Arthur loved me, they called me “Sister-in-law” with respect and never dared to make jokes at my expense. Now that Chloe was back, anyone with eyes could see her status in Arthur’s heart. Naturally, they looked at me with a lot more contempt. I took two steps forward, my gaze sweeping over the glasses of liquor on the table. I gently picked one up. “To show my sincerity, I’ll down this glass as an apology to Ms. Thorne. Is that alright?” Arthur tilted his head, watching me with amusement, staying silent. The people around us looked eager, clearly enjoying the drama. “Maya, what are you doing?” Chloe suddenly stood up, acting like a startled rabbit, frantically trying to snatch the glass from my hand. “You just said a few mean things to me, which I deserved to hear anyway. How could I possibly accept an apology from you?” As she spoke, her eyes turned red. A flash of heartache crossed Arthur’s eyes. He stood up and pulled her back down to the sofa. “Why wouldn’t you accept it? With me here, no one is allowed to bully you.” Chloe’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. She looked at Arthur with gratitude, waiting a few seconds before looking back at me. “Then just drinking this small glass is enough. Once you drink it, all our misunderstandings will be cleared up.” She smiled and handed the glass back to me. “Maya, Arthur is just too protective of me. Please don’t be mad.” I looked at Arthur, chuckled softly, and took the glass with absolute detachment. “Of course not.” I raised the glass. “Everyone here is a witness. In the past, I was too prone to jealousy and misunderstood Arthur and Ms. Thorne’s relationship, which offended her. I’m drinking this glass today as a self-imposed penalty to apologize to Ms. Thorne.” After finishing my piece, I swept my gaze over the crowd. Everyone was stunned. Someone whispered, “No way, is this really the Maya who never bows her head to anyone?” Even Arthur, sitting in the center, looked dazed for a moment. Ignoring the flash of astonishment in his eyes, I raised my hand and downed the entire glass of liquor in one go. I am severely allergic to alcohol. Others might not know it, but Arthur did. After downing that one glass, my body already felt like a piece of driftwood tossed in a turbulent river. Someone caught my arm. “Maya, don’t drink anymore.” His face was blurry. I squinted, finally recognizing him as Arthur’s close friend, Leo. He seemed to be the only person in the room who hadn’t joined in the mocking. “Thank you,” I whispered. Just as I was about to look up and ask Arthur if that was enough of an apology… I saw Chloe quickly shoot a glance at the rest of the group. Immediately, someone yelled out, “Sister-in-law has a great tolerance! But if you really want to show your sincerity, one glass isn’t going to cut it.” With a malicious grin, he pushed an entire bottle of red wine toward me. Then he looked back at Arthur. “Right, Arthur?” Arthur’s brows were already furrowed. He stared silently at the wine bottle being pushed toward me. Just as he opened his mouth to speak… Chloe’s sobbing voice interrupted him: “Don’t say that. The fact that Maya would lower herself to apologize to someone like me, whose family has lost everything, is already an honor. As long as she doesn’t storm into the office to humiliate me and disrupt company work anymore, I’m okay with anything.” Arthur raised his eyebrows, looking at her in disbelief. “She stormed into the office to humiliate you? When did this happen?!” His voice rose, silencing the entire room. 3 Chloe stammered, “It was… it was my first day as your secretary.” Anger surged in Arthur’s eyes as he looked up at me. I admitted it openly. “That’s right. I did go there that day.” Before that incident, I had fought with Arthur countless times over Chloe. In the middle of the night, Chloe would get a fever and demand he take her to the hospital. Chloe would get lost and demand he pick her up. Chloe would go shopping for clothes and send him pictures, asking which one looked best. We argued and screamed at each other. “Arthur, can you please care a little more about my feelings? I love you. I can’t help but mind when you get so close to another woman. It hurts me.” “You know perfectly well that you are the most important person in the world to me.” He would lovingly wipe my tears and promise me he would keep his distance from Chloe. But just a few days later, I received a text from Chloe: [Maya, what’s the point of you trying to stop him? I just shed a few tears, and Arthur agreed to make me his secretary anyway.] I thought she was just making things up to drive a wedge between us. I believed Arthur wouldn’t lie to me. But, fueled by a sliver of anxiety, I quietly went to Arthur’s office. And there I saw Chloe, sitting right in the secretary’s area. She absentmindedly twirled her hair, looking at me smugly. “Maya, do you like my earrings? Arthur gave them to me as a welcome gift.” The look on her face disgusted me to my core. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. “Chloe, taking other people’s hand-me-downs… doesn’t it make you feel dirty?” Back then, she covered her cheek, but smiled at me arrogantly. “Maya, are you scared because you can feel yourself losing Arthur?” And now, Chloe was holding her perfectly fine cheek with red eyes, sobbing: “Maya just slapped me once that day. It’s okay. As long as Maya could vent her anger without taking it out on Arthur, I don’t care how much it hurt.” After hearing this, Arthur glared at me with a dark, terrifying expression. The rage in his eyes looked ready to swallow me whole. “Maya, I thought you were just being dramatic, that your possessiveness was acting up because you couldn’t accept Chloe coming back. I never imagined you had turned into such a vicious, malicious woman.” His icy voice carried not a single shred of pity. “Honestly, making you drink this whole bottle is letting you off easy.” I looked up in shock, staring at him. “Is that really what you think of me?” Arthur scoffed lightly. “Facts speak louder than words.” “You know I can’t drink alcohol!” I stared at him unblinkingly. Arthur sneered. “Then what the hell are you doing here today?” He looked toward the door behind me, his jaw tight. “If you aren’t actually here to apologize, you can leave right now.” It felt like a thousand needles had pierced my heart. A single tear hit the floor and vanished instantly. I was surprised to find that before coming here, I thought I had already mentally prepared myself to leave this world. Yet, it seemed a tiny thread of hope had still remained in my heart. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding? Maybe… he still loves me. Unfortunately, that bottle of wine crushed my last lifeline. Arthur, I don’t want you anymore. I smiled as I looked at him. “If I drink this bottle, will you forgive me? Will you come home with me?” Chloe looked up at him too. Arthur’s dark eyes revealed no emotion. His voice was flat. “The person you need to apologize to is Chloe, not me.” “Maya, adults need to take responsibility for their actions.” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and nodded numbly. “Okay.” But the next second, the wine bottle was snatched from my hands. “Arthur, a whole bottle will kill her!” It was Leo. Arthur smirked, ignoring him entirely, and looked only at me: “Maya, the choice is yours. I’m not forcing you.” My heart felt like it had already been shredded to pieces by the wind. Strangely, I didn’t feel any pain at this moment. “I’ll drink it.” I stubbornly took the bottle back from Leo, murmured a low ‘thank you’ to him again, put the bottle to my lips, and took massive, desperate gulps. As my mind began to blur, I thought I saw Arthur shoving through the crowd, striding rapidly toward me. The bottle was yanked from my hands, and my body collapsed heavily. Arthur, this wine is so bitter. 4 In my dreams, it felt like I was transported back to seven years ago. I had just transmigrated into this world. Back then, Arthur was repressed and ruthless. He was an illegitimate child, only brought back to the Vance family after his mother died. The System had briefed me on the plot. When Arthur was first brought back to the Vance family as a child, the other elite heirs despised him and constantly bullied him. Once, when a group of rich kids was shooting him with water guns, Chloe, wearing a little white princess dress, stepped forward to defend him. She became an unforgettable beacon of beauty in Arthur’s memory. What he didn’t know was that it was just a show of bravery and kindness Chloe put on to impress the male lead standing not far away. Arthur was nothing but a tool in her play. When I arrived in this world, Arthur had slowly begun to show his brilliance within the Vance family. But his temperament was violent, and his business methods were cold and brutal. The patriarch of the Vance family did not favor him. I appeared by his side as the youngest daughter of a close family friend, having just returned from abroad, set up on a blind date with him. At first, Arthur had no interest in me whatsoever. For an entire month, the mission progress bar didn’t move an inch. Until one day, I attended a major real estate negotiation in my father’s place. Arthur was also there. At the dinner table, a prominent figure intentionally made things difficult for me, demanding I toast every single person at the table. After one glass, my body had already started itching, and red hives began to appear. As I raised the second glass to my lips, a hand clamped down on my wrist. It was Arthur. He took the glass from my hand and smiled faintly at the crowd. “The Vance and Hayes families have been close friends for generations. I’ll drink the remaining glasses on behalf of my little sister here.” Amidst the clinking glasses, he smoothly redirected the conversation away from me, leaning in to whisper in my ear: “If it’s an alcohol allergy, I suggest you slip away right now and take some medicine. I’ll cover for you.” I froze. When I looked up, his eyes were shining brightly as he seamlessly blended into the crowd’s conversation. Confident, composed, and impeccably graceful. In that instant, I felt my heart skip a beat. I started intentionally appearing around him frequently. Using care and gentleness, I slowly melted the harsh spikes he wore as armor, and helped mend his relationship with Grandpa Vance. I also utilized my family’s network to help him secure deal after deal, increasing his leverage within the Vance Group. Our shared footprints of hard work covered the globe. During a negotiation in South America, we were caught in the crossfire of local cartels. We were trapped for three days and three nights. Just as we were about to make it out of the jungle, we encountered the cartel thugs. I threw myself in front of him, taking a bullet straight to the left side of my chest. In the nick of time, the backup we had arranged finally arrived, rescuing us from the desperate outlaws. In the ambulance transporting me to the hospital, Arthur’s eyes turned red for the first time. Huge tears fell onto my face. Trembling all over, he asked me why I was so stupid and begged me to hold on. He said, “We haven’t even had our wedding yet. You aren’t my wife yet. You can’t die.” At that moment, I truly believed I was going to die in that foreign land. I reached up, stroked Arthur’s face, and forced a smile: “Don’t cry, Arthur. I came to this world specifically for you anyway.” At the same time, the System notified me: “Host, mission progress has reached 100%. Congratulations, you have successfully conquered the target.” Miraculously, the bullet missed my vital organs, and I survived. After three months of recovery, Arthur married me in a grand wedding that made global headlines. In the countless late nights of passionate intimacy after our marriage, he whispered “I love you” in my ear over and over again. By then, Chloe had long been married to the male lead overseas. I truly thought that Arthur and I wouldn’t have any more obstacles in our world. … In a groggy haze, I felt someone changing my clothes. I stubbornly pushed them away. “Don’t touch me. I have a husband. My husband is Arthur Vance.” The hands unbuttoning my shirt paused, a thumb resting exactly on the bullet scar. The old wound had healed and scarred over years ago, new flesh replacing the old. But it forever immortalized that moment on my body. The person seemed stunned for a long time. He coaxed gently, “Be good, don’t fuss. Let’s get your clothes changed and get you a shower.” He rambled on, saying a bunch of other things I couldn’t hear clearly. I covered his mouth. “So noisy.” After saying that, a wave of profound sorrow washed over me, and I began sobbing uncontrollably. The person asked, “Why are you crying?” That one sentence pulled the thread that unraveled me entirely. I cried even harder. “My husband fell in love with someone else. He bullies me. I don’t want him anymore. I’m leaving.” The person seemed to freeze. After that, I don’t know what happened, as I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up again, it was broad daylight. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains. Shadows played across the bedroom. The System’s voice sounded: “Host, you’re leaving tomorrow. Do you have any lingering regrets?” It warned, “The bastard Arthur is right outside.” As soon as the System finished speaking, Arthur appeared in the doorway holding a glass of honey water. His voice was slightly hoarse, and he looked at me with an unnatural expression. “Maya, you’re awake.”

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I was simultaneously working as a body double for two billionaire brothers. For the older brother, who liked it sultry, I pulled out all the stops: lace dresses and bunny tails. For the younger brother, who preferred the “pure” look, I played the part in oversized white shirts and black thigh-highs. Because I was a consummate professional, I never slipped up. Until one day, I got sloppy, and a paparazzo caught me in his lens. The headline “Vance Brothers Suspected of Sharing the Same Canary” blew up on social media. When the younger brother came storming through the front door, I was busy sitting on his older brother’s lap, playing the perfect, doting pet. 1 The other girls in the “Double” circuit felt so sorry for me. They knew I was the “canary” kept by the younger Vance brother, Rowan, but Rowan never touched me. “Mia is so gorgeous, how did she end up with a prude like Rowan Vance?” “I heard he’s saving himself for his first love. That’s why he won’t lay a finger on her.” “Poor girl, living like a widow in her twenties. How does she stand it?” As I listened to them, I grabbed a couple of tissues and dabbed at non-existent tears. It was true—Rowan never touched me. He paid me fifteen thousand a month just to eat dinner with him, go for drives, and chat. It was the easiest life imaginable. But because I had so much free time, I took on a side hustle and found a new benefactor. This was a massive breach of professional ethics, so I kept it a total secret. Right now, my friend Harper was hugging me sympathetically. “Mia, this dry spell is bad for your health. You should find a new sponsor.” “What about the older Vance brother, Declan? He’s worth billions, single, and incredibly hot. Why don’t you try your luck with him?” “Forget it,” another girl chimed in. “I heard Declan already has a girl. He keeps her hidden away. No one even knows who she is.” I took a giant gulp of my drink, not daring to say a word. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Declan. [Wait for me at the villa tonight.] I obediently replied: [Okay.] To be honest, the mysterious girl Declan Vance was keeping… was also me. 2 Declan was nothing like his brother. He was wild, unrestrained, and had more energy than a freight train. He loved to play. After entering the house, I shed my black trench coat to reveal a seductive fox-themed outfit, complete with a pair of fuzzy ears. Declan was clearly pleased. His eyes darkened, and his breathing grew heavy. He unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, unbuckled his belt with the other, and gestured to me. “Come here. Sit.” I sat on his lap, wrapping my arms around him. “I made these ears myself. Do you like them?” His hot palm pressed against my skirt. “I love them,” he rasped. I took the chance to pout. “I saw a limited-edition bag yesterday.” “Buy it,” Declan said dismissively. His hand was busy, tracing slow circles on my waist. He tilted my chin up, his lips inches from mine. “Is my little fox illiterate?” “What?” I blinked, confused. He smirked, his hand moving toward my zipper. “I want to do a deep dive into your ‘educational background,’ okay?” In the middle of the heat, I remembered the truth. I had recently discovered I was living inside a trashy romance novel. The Vance brothers were the male leads; their childhood sweetheart was the heroine. I was just the temporary “placeholder” side character. When the heroine eventually returns from Europe, the brothers will fight over her. Because she hates me, they will imprison me, torture me, and eventually toss me into a psychiatric ward. In the book, I die in the dead of winter. Once I realized this, I snapped out of my “love” for Declan. I needed to hoard cash. The heroine wasn’t due back for a year. I’d work both jobs, save every cent, and vanish before the plot could kill me. Suddenly, my phone started ringing. It was Harper. [Mia, you absolute legend! How did you keep this from me?] [We’re all canaries, but you’re working double shifts for double the pay!] [I felt bad for you, but you’re living the dream!] I typed back: [?] She replied: [Stop acting. Everyone knows you’re Declan’s secret girl now.] Declan was right there, shirt off, waiting for me. I didn’t have time to ask how she knew. I just begged her: [Keep it quiet. I’ll explain later.] [Too late. Look at the news.] She forwarded a link. The headline read: “Vance Brothers Suspected of Sharing the Same Canary.” 3 I clicked on the link with shaking fingers. There were two photos. One was of me and Rowan at dinner. He was wiping my mouth, looking at me with pure devotion. The second was much more scandalous: me and Declan on an outdoor balcony, with me dressed in a bunny outfit. Goddamned paparazzi. My privacy was gone, and my game was up. Harper texted again: [Do they know yet?] [No,] I replied. [Run. Now. My guy says Rowan already saw it.] Right then, a text came from Rowan. Just two words: “Very well.” I shuddered. Rowan looked gentle, but his anger was lethal. Beside me, Declan was getting impatient. He pulled me back into his arms. “Are you done with your phone? My time starts now.” He guided my hand across his chest. “Mia, take it off for me.” But how was I supposed to have the mood for this?! I yanked my hand back. “Declan, not tonight. My sister has a fever. I have to go.” I threw on my coat. “Next time! I promise!” Declan stared at me, his fire cooling into confusion. “I’ll drive you.” “No need!” I said, but the doorbell rang. Rowan’s voice came from the other side, cold and flat. “Declan, are you home?” 4 I dove behind the sofa in a panic. Declan opened the door. Rowan didn’t waste time. “Declan, do you know a Mia Hayes?” “I do. You can call her your sister-in-law,” Declan said, crossing his arms. “Why? You know her too?” Rowan’s mouth twisted into a mocking sneer. “I do. You can call her your sister-in-law.” The silence that followed was deafening. “What the hell are you talking about?” Declan demanded. “Haven’t you seen the news?” Rowan handed him his phone. “To put it simply, the girl I’m keeping… and the one you’re keeping… are the same person.” The air froze. I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I snuck out through the back door of the villa. I needed to get as far away from these two psychopaths as possible. As I ran through the night, I did the math. I lost the house and the bag Declan promised, but I had a few million in the bank—enough to support me and the girls at the orphanage for years. “Those two idiots,” I muttered, kicking a stone. “If they’d been more discreet, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” Suddenly, something cold touched my neck. A hand hooked into my necklace. Rowan was standing right in front of me. He forced me back against a streetlamp. “Mia. My brother is easy to fool, and I’m easy to please. Is playing both of us a game to you?” I tried to run, but Declan appeared from the other side. His shirt was still unbuttoned, his expression unreadable. “Mia, I think you owe us an explanation.” I was trapped. “I was just working two jobs!” I blurted out, trying to stay calm. “You guys never said I couldn’t have a side hustle!” Rowan looked like he wanted to laugh from pure rage. “You think you need to be told that?! It’s basic ethics!” Before he could grab me, Declan stepped between us. His gaze was icy. Just then, a phone rang. It was Serena, their “First Love.” “Rowan, I’m back. I just landed.” Her voice was clear in the quiet night. “I tried Declan, but he didn’t pick up. Can you tell him?” The heroine was back a year early. Rowan was distracted by the call. I took the chance and bolted. He was too busy talking to catch me. As for Declan, I looked back once. He was just standing there, tracing the red marks on his neck where I’d scratched him earlier. He didn’t even try to follow. Good, I thought. The real queen is back. They don’t need the substitute anymore. 5 I went back to the orphanage. It was 10 PM. I handed an envelope full of cash to the Director, who was the only mother I’d ever known. Two years ago, she’d needed heart surgery. I’d used all my savings, but it wasn’t enough. That was when Rowan had found me. “Mia, you look just like the girl I love. I have a deal for you.” The deal was simple: ten thousand a month to eat and talk. He gave me a checklist of Serena’s habits, her likes, and her style. I memorized it all. The first time we ate, I ate the shrimp four times. Rowan’s face went cold. He lifted my chin. “You’re failing the part. She never eats more than three bites of a single dish. I’m docking your pay.” Three thousand dollars, gone. My heart bled. Later, the Director had complications. I asked Rowan for an advance. He smiled, but his words were ice. “Greed is an ugly habit, Mia. She wouldn’t do that.” He wouldn’t give me the money. But I needed it. So when Declan offered me a hundred thousand a month, I didn’t hesitate. Declan never mentioned Serena. I pretended she didn’t exist. “Mia, I can’t take this,” the Director said, looking at the money. “Keep it for the girls,” I said, hugging her. “I’m leaving for Chicago. I won’t be back for a while.” In this city, the Vance brothers were gods. I needed to disappear. I booked a flight for three days later. Harper kept texting me. “The original really is different,” she messaged. “Did you see the fireworks over the harbor? Declan spent millions to welcome Serena back.” I remembered a night with Declan. He’d asked what I liked besides money. I said fireworks. He promised to set them off for me. Men are liars. “Rowan is throwing a huge gala for her tonight,” Harper added. “Since you’re leaving, I’m throwing you a farewell party. Here’s the address.” I went to the address, but it looked too fancy. Inside, I saw Serena in a blue diamond dress, flanked by Rowan and Declan. My heart stopped. I looked at my phone. A text from Harper had just arrived. [Wrong hall! Serena’s party is in the front. Don’t go in there!] I wanted to kill her. As I tried to sneak out, Serena walked toward me. “You must be Mia?” she said, holding a wine glass.

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The day I was pushed down the stairs—the day my left kidney ruptured and had to be surgically removed—was the same day Margot called me, her breath hitching in that way it only did when she was with him. “Are you dead yet?” her voice rasped through the speaker. “If not, get over here. Bring a fresh set of Egyptian cotton sheets and sign the divorce papers.” She paused, a sharp, triumphant exhale following. “I’m pregnant with Dominic’s baby. I won’t have my son born a bastard. It’s time to give them the legal status they deserve.” I stared at the address she’d texted. In the past, I would have been blinded by a white-hot rage. I would have called my lawyers, gathered my pride, and stormed that penthouse to catch them in the act. Instead, I felt a strange, hollowed-out calm. I typed back a single word: Okay. Margot had no idea that in the original script of this world, she was nothing more than a minor character destined to die young from a terminal illness. She was only breathing because I—a traveler from another reality—had shielded her with my “Guardian Halo,” a cosmic tether that kept death at bay. And her precious little lover? He wasn’t the soulmate she thought he was. He was a “Virus” sent by the System to correct the timeline and drag her back to her grave. Now, the shield was shattered. Margot, my love, you have no idea how little time you have left. … When I reached the address Margot gave me, my legs were still shaking from the surgery. My face was a mask of cold sweat, and every breath felt like a serrated blade twisting in my side. The door swung open, revealing Margot’s face—sharp, beautiful, and twisted with immediate irritation. She glanced at the haphazard bandages on my elbows and knees, where blood was already seeping through the gauze. There wasn’t a flicker of concern. No softening of her eyes. Just a deepening scowl. “What took you so long?” she demanded. “You weren’t answering your phone. And these sheets… I told you Dominic likes the midnight blue set, not this charcoal grey.” She stepped back, letting me into the foyer. “He’s sleeping on the sofa now because I was afraid he’d catch a cold on the damp bed. I had to let him settle for a nap.” I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow and forced a thin, fragile smile. “My phone died. The boutiques were closed. This was the only new set we had left at the house.” I leaned against the doorframe, my vision swimming. “I would’ve been faster, but when Dominic pushed me down the stairs at the mall, my kidney ruptured. I had to have it removed. It took some time.” The truth was, I’d seen them earlier that afternoon. I’d caught them coming out of a high-end baby boutique, hand-in-hand, glowing with the secret of her pregnancy. I hadn’t even opened my mouth to confront her before Dominic started his performance. “Oh, God, Miles! Please don’t hit me!” he’d shrieked, cowering like a kicked puppy. In the chaos that followed, I felt a violent shove. The world tilted, and I tumbled down the concrete steps. As I lay broken at the bottom, I heard Dominic sobbing, “Margot, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just so scared. I know I’m just the other man, and I deserve whatever he does to me, but I couldn’t let him hurt our baby. Even if the world never knows he’s ours, I have to protect him.” Because of the countless times I’d tried to “save” our marriage by confronting her affairs, I already had a reputation in our social circle as the jealous, unstable husband. I looked down to see a pool of red spreading beneath me. I clutched my stomach, gasping Margot’s name, pleading for her to look at me. But she didn’t. She simply wrapped her arms around Dominic’s waist, her eyes filled with a fierce, protective love I hadn’t seen in years. “I know,” she whispered to him. “Don’t be afraid. I’m going to give you and the baby a real name. A real life.” I watched her pull a diamond the size of a postage stamp from her pocket. In front of a crowd of strangers, she dropped to one knee and proposed to her side-piece while her husband bled out ten feet away. I blacked out to the sound of people cheering for their “true love.” A stranger called the ambulance. Margot never even looked back. And now, here she was, remembering I existed only because I was an obstacle to her new family. I reached out for the divorce papers. As I tried to step into the living room to sign them, my knees buckled. I tripped over the threshold and slammed onto the floor. “Argh—” The pain was blinding. Huge drops of sweat rolled down my face as I lay there, unable to get back up. Margot’s first instinct wasn’t to help me. She whipped her head around toward the sofa, checking if the noise had woken Dominic. When she saw he was still asleep, she turned her venom back on me. “Seriously? Stop it,” she hissed. “Don’t think you can win me back with a pity play. Even if you were dying, I wouldn’t change my mind about this divorce.” She stepped over my legs as if they were trash. “And even if you had both kidneys, I never wanted a child with you. Dominic doesn’t want anyone competing with our baby for the estate. Don’t worry, though. For the sake of the years you spent following me around, I’ll give you a settlement. It’ll be enough for you to live out the rest of your pathetic life.” I stared at the jagged scar on my wrist, a relic from a darker time. I felt surprisingly… hollow. Margot wasn’t lying. She’d made her stance on “our” children clear years ago. When I first caught her cheating, I’d spiraled. I thought my death would finally make her regret hurting me. I’d slit my wrists in the bathtub, the water turning a sickening crimson. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Adler, had screamed for Margot. Margot had merely leaned against the bathroom doorframe, exhaling a thin cloud of cigarette smoke. “Miles, give it up,” she’d said, her voice devoid of warmth. “When I loved you, a single sneeze from you felt like a knife in my heart. But seeing all this blood? It just bores me. Honestly, I’m mostly annoyed that you might ruin the dress I bought for my date with Dominic tonight.” She’d looked at me with pure clinical detachment. “Get the message. When it’s over, it’s over.” That night, while I was being resuscitated in the ICU, Margot was at a rooftop garden restaurant, singing love songs and celebrating her “three-month anniversary” with Dominic. That was the moment I stopped fighting. I stopped trying to pull her back. Margot didn’t realize that she was a glitch. She was supposed to die at twenty-three. I was the one who cheated the System, giving her my “Guardian Halo” to keep her heart beating. But Dominic was the Virus. Every time they slept together, the Virus ate away at her protection. The moment I’d gone under the knife for my kidney, a cold, synthesized voice had echoed in my mind: [Guardian Halo compromised. Virus integration: 90%. In thirty days, Subject Margot will succumb to terminal brain cancer.] A ballpoint pen clicked near my ear, snapping me back to the present. Margot was looking down at me, a mocking tilt to her head. “What? Do you need me to carry you to the table to sign? Get up. Honestly, every time I touch you, I feel like I need a shower.” She leaned in, her voice a cruel whisper. “I never wanted to carry your child. Having a baby with a man like you… I’d rather be dead. So stop stalling. Sign the papers before I lose my patience and decide you don’t get a dime.” She was referring to the years I’d spent working three jobs—including a stint as a host at a high-end club—to fund her first startup. She called me “dirty” because I’d let women touch my arms and flirt with me to earn the tips that paid her medical bills. I was an accidental traveler in this world. The System had told me I’d be sent home once the “narrative” was repaired. Until then, it gave me the Halo to survive. But I’d arrived with nothing. I was a nobody in a cold city. When I was cornered in an alley by thugs years ago, before the Halo could even trigger, it was Margot—then just a scrappy girl working construction—who had saved me. She’d cracked a lead pipe over a man’s head and dragged me back to her crumbling studio apartment. She’d fed me ramen. She’d given me a place to sleep. She wore patched-up overalls so she could buy me decent clothes. When she got extra meat in her lunchbox at the site, she’d save it for me, tucked away like a treasure. One night, she’d bought me a ring with three months’ worth of savings. “Miles,” she’d said, her eyes shining in the dim light. “You don’t have anyone. I don’t have anyone. But together? We’re a family. I’m going to give you the world.” Back then, the System had already warned me of her fate. She was sick. She fainted constantly. I lied to her, told her it was just low blood sugar, while I worked myself to the bone to pay for treatments she didn’t know she was receiving. I’d endured the wandering hands of club patrons, the humiliation, the exhaustion—all to keep her alive. But she kept fading. Finally, I’d found a loophole. I permanently transferred my Guardian Halo to her. It was an irrevocable gift. The price? I lost my ticket back to my real world. I thought it was worth it. I was an orphan anyway. Wherever Margot was, that was home. With her health restored and the business insights I provided from my knowledge of this “story,” she climbed from a construction worker to a CEO. And then… she met Dominic. Her “pure, clean” assistant. When I finally caught them in a hotel room, she didn’t even flinch. “Miles, back then, I didn’t have choices. You were the best I could do,” she’d said, buttoning her shirt with casual grace. “But now? I have everything. Every time I look at you, I think about how you sold yourself to get the information that built this company. You’re tainted.” She’d laughed when I tried to tell her the truth about being a traveler. “You think I’d believe that fairy tale? You were a broke nobody. You got those tips by sleeping around. Dominic is different. He’s innocent. He’s fresh. Being with him makes me feel like life is actually beautiful.” So, I’d learned to be silent. I’d watched her leave me on our anniversaries. I’d ignored the stray items left in her car. I waited, teeth grit, for the Virus to finish its work. The System had made me a new deal: Once Margot died and the timeline reset, I could finally go home. And as a final severance package, I could take every asset she owned with me. I pulled myself up using the doorframe, the pain a dull throb now. I took the pen and signed the papers with a steady hand. The moment I finished the last stroke, the lights flickered and died. A power outage. Dominic appeared from the darkness of the living room, holding a flickering candle. He walked toward me with a sweet, nauseating smile. “Mr. Sterling, I’m so sorry you had to make this trip. The sheets got… well, quite messy,” he said, his voice dripping with false modesty. “But since the power’s out, the elevators won’t work. You’ll have to take the stairs.” He paused, tilting his head. “I’d offer you a flashlight, but everything in this house was bought by Margot and me. I’d hate for a stranger to walk off with our things. Sorry~” He took the sheets from my hand and leaned into Margot, circling her waist with his finger. “Margot, babe… I’m awake now. And I’m feeling lonely again.” Margot’s breath hitched. She leaned in, devouring his lips, and slammed the door in my face. In the suffocating dark of the hallway, listening to the muffled, rhythmic sounds of her betrayal, I began the long, agonizing trek down forty-six flights of stairs. By the time I made it back to our—her—estate, I could barely stand. My clothes were shredded from a few stumbles in the dark. Mrs. Adler, the housekeeper, gasped when she saw me. She rushed to help me onto the sofa and ran for the first aid kit. I plugged my phone in, and almost immediately, it began to ring. It was the hospital. “Mr. Sterling? We have Mrs. Sterling’s lab results. It’s… it’s not good. Early-stage glioblastoma. Brain cancer.” The doctor sounded confused. “That’s strange. I looked at her file this morning and it seemed perfectly clear… but these new markers are aggressive.” Margot hated administrative “nonsense,” so I was the only one on the contact list. “Luckily, we caught it early,” the doctor continued. “Please, make sure she comes in for a follow-up immediately. We might still be able to save her.” I stared at the wall. Save her? Not a chance. I wanted her to spend every waking second with Dominic. I wanted them to “love” each other ten times a day until the Virus reached her brainstem. And she complied. Margot stopped coming home entirely. She was too busy flying Dominic to Paris for custom suits, or spending millions on pink diamonds at auctions, designing a wedding ring that made our marriage look like a footnote. I became the city’s favorite punchline: the discarded husband of the Year. I didn’t care. I sat in my quiet house, listening to the System’s daily reports on her deteriorating cells. Until her lead assistant called me in a panic. Margot had been arrested. She’d physically assaulted a high-profile client at a gala because the woman had made a comment about Dominic being a “kept man” who didn’t belong at the table. The client’s husband was a shark; he wasn’t just suing—he wanted her destroyed. When I arrived at the precinct, Margot was standing in front of a red-eyed, sniveling Dominic, shielding him with her body as she glared at the client’s husband. “Sue me,” she spat. “I’ll go to jail before I let anyone disrespect my man.” I froze for a heartbeat. Years ago, in a smoky club, she’d stood in front of three men who were trying to drag me into a car. She’d been beaten bloody that night, but she never moved an inch. “I’ll die before I let them touch my Evan!” she’d screamed back then. The names had changed. The sentiment remained the same. I stepped forward to offer an apology to the client, Mr. Harrison, but he wasn’t interested. He threw his lukewarm coffee directly into my face. “God, Sterling, aren’t you pathetic?” he sneered. “Your wife treats you like gum on her shoe, parades her boy toy around, and you’re still playing the martyr? You’re lower than the side-piece.” He turned back to the officers. “My wife is in the ER. Unless this bitch and her lapdog give a public apology and a full confession, we’re going to trial. I want her in a cell.” Margot watched me wipe coffee from my eyes with a chilling indifference. A faint, mocking smirk touched her lips, as if laughing at my meddling. But when Harrison insulted Dominic again, her face went dark. She lunged, and it took two officers to hold her back. I didn’t care about her reputation or the insults. But if Margot went to prison, the company’s stock would tank, and that would hurt my eventual inheritance. I wiped my face and leaned into Harrison’s ear, lowering my voice so only he could hear. “Mr. Harrison, we both know your wife started that fight. A public trial drags everyone’s laundry out. Margot isn’t a soft target.” I paused, my voice turning cold. “But if you trust me, I can give you something better. Give me one month. I guarantee you that both she and her company will disappear from this world.” Harrison looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “You? The man who can’t even handle a twenty-two-year-old intern?” I pulled up Margot’s digital lab report on my phone and slid it toward him. “You’ve seen how fast this company grew,” I whispered. “It wasn’t Margot’s ‘intuition.’ It was me. I know about a project—a massive acquisition—that no one else has touched yet. If you move now, your net profit by next year will be nine figures.” I looked him in the eye. “Sign the waiver for Margot. I give you the data. You can choose to fight a dying woman, or you can choose to be the richest man in the state. Your call.” Everyone in the city knew the Sterling Group’s meteoric rise was legendary. They just didn’t realize when the “magic” had stopped. It stopped the day I caught her in that hotel room. Harrison was a shark, and sharks know when to bite. He signed the release. As he left, he gave me a long, contemplative look. “Margot is a fool. To have a weapon like you and waste it on a boy like that…” He shrugged. “When the divorce is final, call me. I have a daughter who actually knows the value of a partner.” I smiled politely and said nothing. He didn’t see me as a person; he saw me as an asset. Just like Margot had. I remembered the way she’d looked at me once the money started rolling in. “Miles, if I hadn’t pulled you out of that alley, you’d be dead or worse by now. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” I didn’t need a “home” from her anymore. I just needed the cash. I drove back to the villa, but as I went to unbuckle my seatbelt, a pair of blinding high beams flooded my vision. A car roared toward me. CRASH. The impact shattered the night. Even with the airbag, I felt the warm slip of blood down my temple. My ribs screamed. The door was ripped open. Margot grabbed my collar and hauled me out of the wreck, her face twisted in a mask of fury. “You disgusting, pathetic snake!” she screamed. “You signed the papers, and then you went behind my back to have Harrison’s wife humiliate Dominic again? Do you know how hard he’s been crying?!” She shook me, her nails digging into my skin. “How did you get to Harrison? Did you sleep with him too? Do you think destroying Dominic’s reputation will make me come back to you? You make me sick. I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last man on earth!” Mrs. Adler ran out of the house, sobbing at the sight of my bloodied face. “Oh my God! Mr. Sterling! Come inside, let me help you—” “Don’t you dare call him that!” Margot roared. “From now on, there is only one master of this house, and it’s Dominic!” She turned her cold eyes on me. “This is my house. I bought it. You have no right to step foot inside. Mrs. Adler, Dominic is distraught. He hasn’t eaten. Go fix him some soup. If I see you helping Miles, you can pack your bags and leave with him!” Mrs. Adler looked at me, her hands trembling in her apron. I gave her a small, reassuring nod. It’s okay. After she went inside, I tried to reach for my phone to call 911. Margot snatched it out of my hand and hurled it into the lake. “I built this empire,” she said, her voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet chill. “I didn’t need your ‘tips.’ I did this myself. So stop pretending you’re a martyr. I owe you nothing.” She stepped toward the door. “Since you wanted to play games with the divorce, consider this your punishment. The car, the phone, the house—they’re mine. I’ll burn them before I let you have a cent.” She disappeared inside. A second later, the electronic lock chimed. Code changed. The night air was freezing. My lungs felt like they were filled with glass. I thought about how she used to say that everything she had was mine. How she just wanted me to stay home and be happy. Since her word meant nothing now, I supposed it was time to take back the life and the fortune I’d lent her. The door opened again. Mrs. Adler rushed out and pressed a roll of cash into my hand. “Mr. Sterling, please. It’s my salary from this month. I withdrew it yesterday. Take it, get a taxi, go to a doctor.” She was shaking. “She’s… she’s just confused. When she calms down, she’ll fix this. I know she will.” As the words left her mouth, a pile of clothes and objects were hurled from the second-story window. Our wedding photos. My suits. The hand-painted gifts I’d given her for every birthday. “Margot, please… I’ve never done it in your house before,” Dominic’s voice drifted down from the balcony, a playful, suggestive whine. “I want to do it in the bedroom, and on the stairs… I want every corner of this place to smell like us.” There was a pause, then Margot’s voice, husky and raw. “Whatever you want, baby. Anything.” “Silly girl,” Dominic chirped. “This is our home now. For our baby. We’re going to be together forever.” As they spoke, one last item was tossed into the dirt. My heart twinged for a second when I saw what it was. Before I’d given her the Halo, when she was still weak and terrified of dying, she had climbed three thousand stone steps to a mountain shrine on her hands and knees. She’d brought back a hand-carved wooden plaque with our names on it. “To Miles: May we grow old together in peace and happiness.” Now, the wood was splintered. The names had been gouged out with a knife. It was just a piece of trash. Mrs. Adler went silent, looking at the wreckage of my life. I patted her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Adler. I’ll pay you back. I promise. Many times over.” Good people deserve a reward. And the heartless? Well, they don’t get to grow old. Six hours after I left the ER with a row of stitches in my head, the System pinged. Margot had been trying to “celebrate” with Dominic on the balcony. A sudden, blinding migraine had struck. Her vision went black. She’d tumbled over the railing and fallen two stories to the pavement.

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I endured a year of relentless bullying from the school’s worst delinquent, Tristan. Whenever my head was being violently shoved into a filthy bathroom sink, his face would always twist into an expression of sick, unhinged pleasure. I never understood why he targeted me. Until the day I fought back, accidentally snapping the chain of his most prized pocket watch. Inside was a faded photograph—of my mother, posing with him. That was the day I realized he was my older half-brother. The son my mother had abandoned years ago after he broke her heart. He bullied me because he hated me. That night, when I went home, I stopped hiding my bruises. When my mother frantically asked what happened, I let all my grievance pour out: “Mom… someone at school is hurting me. Will you come stand up for me?” 1 Riiing— The second the final bell rang, my entire body involuntarily flinched. The moment the teacher stepped out of the classroom, I grabbed my backpack and bolted. But I was still caught at the bottom of the stairwell. A group of guys in varsity jackets saw me and their eyes lit up. “Tristan was right! The little bitch really did try to run!” I was shaking all over. My instinct was to spin around and flee, but the second I turned, someone grabbed my collar with terrifying force. I smelled the faint scent of nicotine… It was Tristan. The mastermind behind the year of absolute hell I had endured at this school. I’m dead, I thought, despair flooding my chest. Within seconds, I was dragged up the stairs by my arms to the top floor of the building. There were no classrooms up here, just an abandoned boys’ restroom that was slated for renovation. This was their “lawless zone.” The place where they tortured me. I never understood why, out of hundreds of kids in this school, Tristan zeroed in on me. Our school was a combined middle and high school campus. I was just a seventh grader. He was a junior in high school. I couldn’t figure out how someone as completely average as me could make him hate me so much. From my very first day of school, he had been in my line of sight. He would stand outside my classroom windows, staring at me with this dark, venomous look. Like a viper locking onto its prey. Whenever he bullied me, his face would twist into this terrifying, manic glee. SLAM— I was shoved violently into the bathroom. My body slammed against the rusted stall door, my arms instantly going numb from the impact. “Didn’t he tell you to come up here on your own after the bell?” One of the guys slapped the back of my head. “Why the hell were you running?” When I didn’t answer, he slapped me hard across the cheek. These guys were Tristan’s lackeys. His personal enforcers. I clenched my fists, forcing my voice out through my tight throat. “Today is my mom’s birthday. I just wanted to go home and celebrate with her.” I was so terrified I didn’t notice that Tristan, who had been leaning against the tiled wall with a blank expression, instantly went completely dark the second I said those words. He marched over and violently shoved the guy standing in front of me out of the way. Tristan was tall and incredibly strong. He grabbed me by the collar of my hoodie, forcing me onto my tiptoes so I was looking him dead in the eye. “Who the hell do you think you are…” Tristan ground out between clenched teeth. His eyes were twitching, his breathing ragged, like he was using every ounce of his willpower to restrain himself from snapping my neck. Before I could even process why he was suddenly so furious, he dragged me over to the row of sinks. The water in the clogged basin was brown, foul, and stagnant. Without a second of hesitation, Tristan shoved my head directly into the filthy water. Suffocation hit me instantly. I thrashed wildly, my lungs burning. I genuinely felt like Tristan was actually trying to murder me. Why?! My hands clawed blindly at the air, trying to grab onto anything to pull myself up. In my panicked struggling, my fingers caught onto Tristan’s shirt. And then, they hooked onto a thick metal chain around his neck. “Let go, you little freak!” Someone stepped forward to pry my hands off, but as I was yanked back, the chain snapped. A heavy, metallic clatter echoed against the floor tiles. It was like Tristan woke up from a trance. He instantly let go of me. I collapsed onto the wet floor, completely exhausted, gasping desperately for air. When my vision cleared, I saw something bizarre. Tristan was on his hands and knees on the filthy floor, frantically searching for something. He looked panicked, his hands visibly shaking. “Where is it?! Where is it?!” “Find it! Find it right fucking now!” he roared. The lackeys, who had been standing around stunned, snapped out of it and immediately dropped to the floor to help him look. Watching them act so crazy, my fingers twitched against the wet tiles… and brushed against something solid. I turned my head. It was an ornate, vintage pocket watch that had popped open from the fall. Inside the watch was an old, slightly faded photograph. It was a little blurry. But my pupils dilated in shock, because I instantly recognized the person in the picture. My mother… Before I could get a closer look, a hand snatched the watch away. Tristan scooped it off the floor. He cupped it in his hands like it was made of fragile glass, using the sleeve of his expensive designer jacket to frantically wipe the dirty water off it. Treating it like an absolute treasure. “It’s broken. The hinge is broken,” he muttered, sounding completely manic. He immediately turned and power-walked out of the bathroom. “Tris!” one of the guys called out, confused. “What about the girl?” “Whatever!” Tristan didn’t even look back, his mind entirely consumed by the watch. “I have to go get this fixed. Don’t call me unless someone’s dying!” 2 Thanks to that pocket watch, I actually got to go home early for once. Walking home, the autumn wind was freezing. My hoodie was half-soaked with dirty water, making the chill bite straight through to my bones. But I barely felt it, because my mind was an absolute hurricane. Every time I blinked, I saw the photo inside that watch. That gentle, beautiful woman was my mother. A younger version of my mother. But who was the little boy she was holding? Was it Tristan? How did they know each other? I had always known my mom had been married once before, and that she had a child from that marriage. I was the child she had with my dad after she remarried. My parents never kept that a secret from me. But my brain physically could not connect the dots between the terrifying Tristan and my mother’s first child… But if… if Tristan really was my older half-brother, then every single unanswered question I had finally made sense. Why did he target me? Why did he bully me? Because my mother abandoned him. So he hated me. Why did he always threaten me after beating me up, telling me never to tell my family? He always said his family was rich and powerful, and that he could get my mom’s flower shop shut down with a single phone call… But it wasn’t a threat. It was fear. He was terrified I would tell my mom. He was terrified my mom would find out what he was doing to me! The more I thought about it, the faster my heart hammered against my ribs. I started sprinting, the cold wind clearing my head. I had to ask my mom. I had to know the truth! A walk that usually took twenty minutes took me ten. I practically kicked the front door open. My mom looked up from the dining table, surprised. “You’re home early today?” Every day, to hide the bullying and keep my mom from worrying, I lied and told her I stayed after school in the library to study. And to hide the evidence, I always aggressively pulled my long sleeves down to cover the bruises on my arms before I walked through the door. My mom wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at me. “Go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.” Her eyes paused on my hair. “Why are your clothes and hair wet?” “I… some lady was watering her plants on a balcony and accidentally spilled the watering can on me.” “Go take a hot shower right now so you don’t catch a cold.” I nodded, dropped my backpack, and grabbed some clean clothes from my room. By the time I came out of the shower, my mom had set the table. My dad was out of state on a business trip, so it was just the two of us this week. I sat at the table, looking at my mom’s gentle face, hesitating. “Mom, I have a question to ask you.” My mom put a piece of roasted chicken onto my plate. “Eat it while it’s hot. What’s the question?” I chewed on my lip, but finally forced the words out. “Mom, do I have an older brother? What’s his name?” My mom’s hand froze holding her fork. The smile on her face stiffened. “Why are you asking about this all of a sudden?” “Just… curious.” My mom went completely silent. She barely ate two bites for the rest of dinner. I immediately regretted it. I shouldn’t have asked. I had ruined her mood. But after dinner, my mom called me into her bedroom. She handed me an old photograph. “His name is Tristan. He was my first child.” I took the photo, my hands visibly shaking. This photo… it was the exact same photo that was inside Tristan’s pocket watch. 3 [Evelyn’s Perspective] Evelyn hadn’t thought about that child in a very long time. She had spent years forcing herself to live as if she had never given birth to him. If her daughter hadn’t brought it up today, she probably wouldn’t have thought about him, or her disastrous first marriage, for another decade. When her first husband started coming home at 3:00 AM, she should have cut her losses and left. But she compromised, over and over again, allowing that man to constantly test her bottom line. He started coming home smelling like cheap perfume. He started using “business trips” as an excuse to blatantly take his mistress on tropical vacations. Evelyn was heartbroken and exhausted. But she thought that even if her husband betrayed her, the son she had nearly died giving birth to would always stand by her side. She was wrong. Even though she poured every ounce of her patience and gentleness into Tristan, giving him all the love she possessed, he ultimately broke her heart. She remembered hearing tiny Tristan holding that other woman’s hand, calling her “Mommy.” He said his real mom was messy and annoying, and always told him what to do. He said he wanted the pretty, gentle lady to be his new mom. At that exact moment, Evelyn realized that Tristan was exactly like his father. An ungrateful, selfish traitor. She completely gave up on that family. During the divorce proceedings, Evelyn relinquished custody of Tristan to fight for maximum financial leverage to start her own life. She still clearly remembered the reaction of the father and son on the day she packed her boxes and left the mansion. The father looked incredibly relieved. The son looked absolutely ecstatic. “Yay! I get a new mommy! Yay!” Those joyful cheers were like rusty nails driven directly into Evelyn’s heart. They were the knives that violently severed the very last thread of maternal love she had left for that boy. 4 After hearing my mom’s story, I gently placed the photo back on her nightstand. “Mom.” I tugged gently on her sleeve. When she looked down at me, I reached for the hem of my long-sleeved shirt and slowly rolled it up. Revealing my arms, covered in overlapping patches of purple, blue, and yellow bruises. “What happened to you?!” My mom grabbed my arm, her voice cracking in pure panic. “Did someone hit you?!” I choked back the massive wave of grievance I had swallowed for a year and slowly nodded. “Mom… someone at school is hurting me. Will you come to school tomorrow and stand up for me?” … The next morning, when I walked into my homeroom, my desk-mate silently scooted her chair as far away from me as possible. My desk was knocked over on the floor. My textbooks were scattered everywhere, covered in dirty, muddy footprints. I quietly picked up my desk and glanced around the room. Every single student intentionally avoided my eyes. They were isolating me. Or rather, they were terrified of being associated with me. Because they didn’t want Tristan to retaliate against them. After first period, a girl who used to be somewhat friendly with me finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. She followed me into the bathroom. “Chloe, what the hell did you do to piss Tristan off?” “I heard you broke his favorite vintage watch, is that true?” “Is he just using that as an excuse to torture you?” She took my silence as a ‘yes’. “That is so messed up!” We were middle schoolers, at the age where our sense of justice was at its peak. She frowned deeply. “Why don’t you go to the teachers?” I looked at her, stunned. Go to the teachers? Did she think I hadn’t tried? If I went to them, they would either brush it off as “kids playing rough” and send me back to class to avoid the paperwork. Or, the second they heard the bully’s name was Tristan, they would pass the buck like a hot potato. Tristan’s family had literally funded the construction of the new STEM building on campus. Anything involving Tristan was radioactive. Nobody wanted to deal with it. Or more accurately, nobody dared to deal with it. That afternoon, when the final bell rang, I was cornered by Tristan and his guys again. His face was incredibly dark. He looked like he was in a foul mood. I noticed his neck was bare. He wasn’t wearing the chain. Did the watch shop tell him it couldn’t be fixed? Was he here to punish me for it today? The girl from the bathroom with the strong sense of justice was still just a kid. Facing a group of massive high school upperclassmen, she was terrified. She stood at the corner of the hallway, watching me get dragged up the stairs. She hesitated for a long time, but never took a single step forward. She squatted against the lockers, grabbing her hair in frustration. Suddenly, a pair of designer heels appeared in her line of sight. She looked up to see a beautiful, gentle-looking woman. “Hi there. Are you in Room 104? Have you seen Chloe? I’m her mother, I’m here to pick her up.”

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My husband was working out of state and had to stay in the office over the holidays. I decided to buy a plane ticket and surprise him. But the only seats left were in first class. Looking at the four-figure price tag, I gritted my teeth and spent a year’s worth of my savings. When I boarded, I didn’t even know how to pull out the tray table. The wealthy woman sitting next to me sneered. “Never flown first class before?” I forced a polite smile. “I’m sorry. You must be an executive, right? You carry yourself with such elegance.” “No,” she said. “My sugar daddy is a CEO. Whenever I travel, if it’s not first class, he charters a private jet for me.” I was stunned. “A sugar daddy? That must be hard to find.” “Not really. I work for him. I make mistakes all the time and cost him a ton of money. Every time he scolds me, I cry… and, well, you know how it goes.” “What a coincidence. My husband also has a female coworker who’s always making mistakes.” “You’re married?” She looked me up and down. “My sugar daddy has a wife about your age, too. “But he says he got sick of her a long time ago. Said touching her feels like nothing, not even as exciting as when I toss my hair. “I told him I wanted to see him for the holidays, and look—he just told his old wife he had to work overtime.” I stared at the diamond ring on her finger. It was identical to my lost wedding ring. I froze. Wait—wasn’t Arthur Vance just a junior employee? When did he become a CEO? … I stared at her ring finger. “But your ring… that’s a wedding band, isn’t it? Did you and your sugar daddy get married?” “Oh, this?” Chloe Sterling admired the diamond ring. “I made him take it from his wife.” I sat there, stunned. “I wasn’t planning on making things difficult for the wife. But who told her to suddenly have a miscarriage on my birthday, making him go to the hospital to take care of her? “I had to spend my birthday all by myself.” My hand instinctively moved to my lower stomach. I suddenly recalled that freezing winter. The path home from the grocery store was covered in thick ice. Arthur’s salary was meager. Even a bicycle was a luxury for us. I slipped and fell hard. My three-month-old baby turned into a pool of blood… That day, Arthur dropped all his work and stayed by my side for three days and three nights. But when I woke up, my ring had vanished along with my child. Arthur held me tight. “It’s okay. We’ll have another baby. And the ring… I’ll have a new one made for you.” I shook my head, crying. “Didn’t you say your company is doing layoffs? We need to save money. When you make it big one day, then you can buy me a new one.” His eyes were red, tears welling up as he looked at me. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault I haven’t made enough money. It’s my fault I haven’t given you a good life.” I had just shaken my head. Beside me, Chloe was still admiring the diamond ring. I asked, “So, you made him take his wife’s ring and give it to you?” “Yeah. Actually, he refused at first. He said he’d buy me a more expensive one.” Chloe tilted her hand side to side, watching the diamond catch the light. “But the only reason that old woman is so arrogant is because she’s his wife, right? “If I didn’t punish her a little, she’d end up walking all over me.” I gritted my teeth. “To be honest, compared to the other things he’s bought me, this ring is cheap. “But at the end of the day, it’s still a wedding ring.” Chloe smiled at me. “If a woman ends up like that old hag, her life is basically hopeless.” I clenched the hem of my shirt and forced a smile. “If your sugar daddy is so willing to spend money on you, he must spend a lot to keep his wife quiet, right?” Chloe laughed. She leaned in close and whispered. “Let me tell you a secret. That old woman doesn’t even know he’s a CEO yet.” “Why?” Chloe admired her diamond-encrusted manicure. “Because there’s no point. She already wasted her youth helping him build his career. “If you were a man who finally got rich, and you saw your wife was old and fading, would you still spend money on her? It’s not like spending money is going to bring her youth back.” My slightly haggard face reflected in the window. Chloe leaned toward me. “Hey, even though you’re older than me, you still have some looks left. Since we’re sitting next to each other, let me give you some advice. “Women need to get Botox and beauty treatments. Your skin is looking a bit dry. I bet your husband doesn’t show much interest in you, does he?” I stared at her, not saying a word. Her skin was flawless, glowing with youth. I used to look exactly like her. Actually… I was prettier than her. Ten years of weathering the storms in cheap, drafty apartments had taken their toll. When I looked at my old photos now, I barely recognized myself. “Those treatments… they’re very expensive.” “So what?” Chloe shrugged. “My sugar daddy gives me fifty thousand dollars a month for living expenses, and he reimburses me for all my beauty treatments on top of that.” Looking at the tiny rhinestones decorating Chloe’s sharp eyeliner. My hands, gripping my shirt, began to tremble. “How many years… have you been his canary?” “Since June 12th, 2023. Why?” My hands shook even harder. June 12th, 2023. The day my mother died. That day, my mother needed fifty thousand dollars for surgery. I remember it vividly. Arthur begged everyone he knew and emptied his own savings account. He managed to scrape together thirty-five thousand for me. It was almost everything he had saved since he started working. Despite working myself to the bone, I only managed to borrow another eight thousand. My mother passed away. That day, he held me tight, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m a piece of trash. I couldn’t even earn enough for your mom’s medical bills! You’ve suffered so much being with me…” My heart felt like it was being sliced open. But I still wiped away his tears. “I’m so grateful you managed to get thirty-five thousand. “Mom said you did your best. She didn’t blame you, and I don’t either… It’s my fault I couldn’t get the remaining fifteen thousand…” His tears fell onto the back of my hand. He gripped my hand tightly. “Maya, just wait a little longer. Please, just wait… I promise I won’t let us live like this anymore…” I nodded through my tears. Fifty thousand dollars… He had the money all along. “You know what’s crazy? That woman’s mother needed exactly fifty thousand dollars for a surgery that same month.” I looked at Chloe. She winked her left eye at me. “He was actually going to give it to her.” My breath caught in my throat. “Did he give it to you for living expenses instead?” “No. He’s rich. He gave me fifty grand, but he still had plenty more.” “Then why didn’t he give it to his wife’s mother?” “Because…” Chloe rested her chin on her hand. “I told him that once her mother died, that woman wouldn’t have any family left. Then, even if she found out he was keeping me on the side, she wouldn’t dare say a word.” I gritted my teeth so hard they felt like they would shatter. “Plus, I had my eye on a new Chanel bag that month. It was exactly fifty thousand.” I stared at her, my eyes burning. “Aren’t you afraid his wife will find out what you did?” “Please. I’m a genius.” Chloe laughed. “I gave him the idea. I told him to give her thirty-five thousand and pretend it was his entire life savings. His wife would just think her husband did his absolute best, and she’d never suspect he was hiding someone else!” Saying this, her expression soured a bit. “The annoying part is, the reason he finally agreed to do it was to make sure the old woman wouldn’t leave him if I ever got discovered. “Ugh, that old hag has such good luck.” Smack! A slap landed squarely on Chloe’s face without warning. “Are you insane?!” Chloe’s drink spilled everywhere. A flight attendant rushed over to help her clean up. Chloe was furious. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” “Are all mistresses this arrogant these days?!” I was shaking with rage. The flight attendant quickly separated us. She moved Chloe to an empty seat further away and spoke to her in a soothing voice. Finally, Chloe calmed down slightly. Wiping her hands with the towel the flight attendant gave her, she shot me a disdainful glare. “I am so sick of self-righteous people like you. Always screaming ‘mistress, mistress.’ Let’s be honest… “Hah. You’re just mad because you’re old and can’t attract a man anymore, right? “If you were young again, you’d be throwing yourself at rich men faster than anyone else!” “You—!” The flight attendant quickly grabbed my arm as I started to lunge. I didn’t want to cause trouble for the crew, so I gritted my teeth and sat back down. Chloe looked me up and down with utter contempt. “Let me tell you the truth. You haven’t been young for a long time. I bet your husband is seeing someone else, too. “If you don’t believe me, go check his phone. A woman who looks like you… no man would want to come home to that.” Splash! I threw the fresh drink the flight attendant had just brought me right into her face. Chloe shrieked. The flight attendants scrambled to get between us. The purser forced a polite smile. “Ms. Hayes, this woman is a very important guest. Please calm down. How about I bring you some fresh fruit to help you relax?” “Important guest?” I ground my teeth. The purser leaned in and whispered softly. “She is with Mr. Vance, the CEO of Vance Enterprises. It’s for your own good to avoid her. Mr. Vance is very protective of her.” I let out a bitter laugh. The plane landed at the layover airport. Neither Chloe nor I were disembarking. We were allowed to take our phones off airplane mode. I sent Arthur a text: [Where are you?] He sent back a photo of his office cubicle: [Making money for my wife.] [Are you making it for me, or for someone else?] No reply. I sent a question mark. A second later, a familiar voice drifted over from Chloe’s seat. “Someone threw juice on you? Who dares treat my Chloe like that?” “Some crazy old woman! Ugh, it’s all your fault! If you were here, she never would have dared to do that to me!” “Okay, okay… it’s my fault.” [Transfer Received: $50,000] A robotic notification chimed from Chloe’s phone. Arthur’s voice was gentle: “Go buy yourself something pretty.” I gripped the hem of my shirt. The smile on Chloe’s face was fleeting. She immediately pouted. “Hmph! Not good enough. You told me you missed me and wanted to spend New Year’s with me! If you hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t have gotten on this plane and met that lunatic! “No amount of money can fix this! Hmph!” Arthur wasn’t angry. Instead, he sounded amused, his tone lightening up. “Then, what about the new villa your husband bought for you?” Chloe’s eyes widened slightly. “Is my Chloe smiling now? Are you happy?” “I am not!” Chloe pouted again. “But… hmph, I’ll give you a chance. Only because I love you.” “Good~ I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay?” “Three hours, not a second less!” “I’ll give you the whole night.” My hand, hidden inside my sleeve, trembled violently. I remembered when he was transferred to the East Coast branch. Whenever we saw each other, we rarely went past hugging and kissing. Every time I initiated anything more, he would sigh. “I’ve been working so hard, I’m just exhausted. Can we wait until I’ve rested up?” But before he was ever “rested up,” he was already gone again. The plane was preparing for takeoff. Chloe kissed the camera and ended the video call. At that exact moment, Arthur sent me a text: [Why doesn’t my wife believe me anymore? Are you sad that I have to work overtime and can’t be with you for New Year’s? [When I get home after the holidays, I’ll take you to that hot pot place you love, okay?] The plane took off. A flight attendant walked up to Chloe’s new seat carrying a black, gold-stamped gift box. “Ms. Sterling, a gentleman asked us to bring this to you.” “Oh my god! The Prada necklace! How did he know I’ve been eyeing this?!” The flight attendant smiled and handed her a card. “Mr. Vance also asked us to pass along a message: “He hopes Ms. Sterling won’t let the background noise bother her. Be brave, be yourself, and ignore all obstacles. “Because Mr. Vance will always stand behind you, and he will always love you.” I looked down at the text Arthur had just sent me, and closed my eyes. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Vance asked us to give this diamond to you.” The purser handed me a loose diamond. I frowned. “For me?”

Seven years of a sexless marriage. In a desperate, pathetic attempt to save what was left of us, I finally agreed to his request for “something adventurous.” Outdoor sex. In the car. A thrill to jumpstart a dead heart. But an hour before our designated time, I scrolled past a thread on a popular confession site. The prompt: What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done for “love”? The top comment, glowing with thousands of upvotes, read: “I have to tell you about my ex-boyfriend’s current wife. Tonight, she’s ‘sacrificing’ herself for love. They’re going to be ‘cooking’ in the very car he bought for me! And get this—he’s live-streaming the audio to me. He promised me he’s staying ‘pure’ for me. He’s only using his hands on her.” The comment section was a furnace of outrage, but the poster just slapped down a photo of a luxury car in response: “A Rolls-Royce Phantom. Have you peasants even seen one in person?” “That frigid bitch is lucky to even sit in those seats. It’s the highlight of her miserable life.” The moment the high-res photo loaded, the blood in my veins turned to ice. That car… was parked right in front of me. 1 The cold glow of my phone screen felt like a blade in the dim light of the parking garage. I refreshed the page, praying my eyes were deceiving me, hoping for a different license plate, a different color—anything. But there it was. A tiny, almost invisible scratch on the hood, right where the light hit it. It matched the photo in the post perfectly. The post was timestamped three hours ago. The comments were still exploding: [OP, you’re toxic as hell. Why are you even still talking to this guy?] [Live-streaming? No way. Drop the link!] [This is sick. That poor wife is being humiliated and she doesn’t even know it.] My hands were shaking so violently I almost dropped the phone. I checked the time. Ten minutes until our “date.” I took a numb step forward, peering through the driver’s side window. In the shadows of the passenger seat, I saw them. Cartoon plushies. Pink, fluffy, and incredibly juvenile. They looked utterly ridiculous in a car this expensive, and they were the polar opposite of Bennett’s cold, stoic aesthetic. Looking at them, a memory surged up like bile. Two years ago, when I bought my own car, I had decorated it with cute, cozy accessories. Bennett had looked at them and uttered five words that killed my joy: “Cheap, tacky, and incredibly immature.” I had cleared the car out that same night. But now, here were these pink rabbits and star stickers, plastered all over this Rolls-Royce like a shrine to someone else’s whims. The keys bit into my palm. My eyes burned. The elevator chimed. Bennett stepped out. He had traded his white lab coat for a casual cashmere sweater, though he still carried that air of effortless, high-society arrogance. He saw me and gave a curt, professional nod, as if we were meeting for a board or a surgery rather than an intimate encounter. He pulled the door open. “Been waiting long? Get in.” His voice was flat. He wasn’t looking at a wife he wanted to seduce; he was looking at a task he needed to complete. I didn’t move. My voice came out as a brittle whisper. “When did you buy this car?” He stiffened for a fraction of a second. “A while ago. It’s been in storage. I lent it to a friend for a bit.” He slid into the driver’s seat. I fought back the sob rising in my throat and climbed into the passenger side. The air hit me immediately—a thick, cloying perfume. Sweet, floral, and nauseatingly familiar. As soon as the engine purred to life, Bennett hit a button. The privacy curtains slid shut, sealing us in. The world outside disappeared, leaving us in a tomb lit only by the ghostly blue glow of the dashboard. The darkness felt heavy. Suffocating. I thought about the “live-stream” mentioned in the post and my heart hammered against my ribs. “Why is it so dark?” “It’s for the mood, Elena,” Bennett said, his hand reaching across the center console. His breath hitched as he leaned in. I instinctively recoiled, my hand sweeping nervously across the gap between the seats. My fingers brushed something. Bennett frowned, his annoyance flashing in the dim light. “What is wrong with you today?” I didn’t answer. I reached down, feeling into the crevice of the leather seat until I grasped a piece of fabric. I pulled it out. A sliver of light escaped through a gap in the curtain, just enough for me to see what I was holding. Black lace panties. Worn. Stained in the center with a dark, dried patch that left nothing to the imagination. 2 I threw the door open and stumbled out of the car, retching against the concrete wall of the garage. Bennett was out a second later, his face contorted with suppressed rage. “Elena! What the hell is this performance?” I wiped my mouth, my vision blurred with tears, and held up the lace. “Whose are these, Bennett?” His expression flickered—a flash of guilt instantly paved over by cold indifference. “It’s a friend’s car. How should I know what they leave in it?” He took a step toward me, his voice softening into that manipulative, ‘reasonable’ tone he used to quiet difficult patients. “Look, I’m here, aren’t I? I agreed to do this for you. Isn’t that enough? What more do you want from me?” “A friend?” I started to laugh, a jagged, ugly sound. “What kind of ‘friend’ leaves this in a car you’re borrowing?” “Elena, stop,” he snapped, his patience evaporating. “I am sacrificing my limited free time to play these games with you, and you’re going to throw a tantrum over a piece of trash?” Sacrificing. The word felt like a physical blow. To him, intimacy with his legal wife was a chore. A charitable donation. My heart felt like it was being shredded. Seven years. I had given this man seven years of my life, my health, and my devotion. I had loved him through the shadow of the girl he never forgot—the ghost of the one who got away. I remembered the accident, three days after our wedding. A car had come out of nowhere and slammed into me. Three broken ribs. A shattered pelvis. A severely damaged reproductive system. Bennett was the surgeon who saved me. He had operated on me himself. But after the surgery, something went wrong. He told me the trauma had caused “complications.” My body had essentially locked itself shut. I became a “stone woman”—physically unable to experience pleasure, anatomically scarred in a way that made sex an agonizing impossibility. I had wanted to die. But Bennett had held me, over and over, whispering, “Elena, it doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of you forever.” I believed him. I was grateful for that accident because I thought it had forged a bond that transcended the physical. I spent seven years trying to be the perfect wife, the perfect shadow, just to earn the right to grow old with him. And all it earned me was a “sacrifice.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. The thread had been updated. “Oops, the stream got cut off. Looks like someone found the little surprise I left in the seat (blushing emoji). I guess he’s not as good at hiding things as he thought. Oh well, there’s always next time. We’ve got forever.” Attached was a screenshot of a receipt. A pair of luxury black lace panties. $300. I looked up at Bennett. He was holding something in his hand—a beige, rubbery device he’d pulled from the glove box. The packaging was torn. It looked cheap, clinical, and insulting. Meanwhile, his own belt was still buckled tight. He hadn’t even intended to touch me. “So that was the plan, Bennett?” I whispered, nodding toward the toy. “That was your ‘sincere effort’?” I let out a breath that felt like a death rattle. 3 He followed my gaze and dropped the device back into the car as if it had burned him. The exhaustion hit me then. A weight so heavy I couldn’t even feel the anger anymore. I turned away. “We’re done, Bennett. I’m leaving.” I walked out of the garage and didn’t look back. By the time I got back to the house and started pulling suitcases out of the closet, Bennett was already there. He was holding a bouquet of red roses. They were wrapped in crinkly plastic, the petals already wilting at the edges, bruised and blackening. He tossed his jacket on the sofa and set the dying flowers on the coffee table. “Elena, let’s be rational. We need to talk.” “There’s nothing left to say,” I said, my voice empty. He rubbed his temples, looking like the victim of a great injustice. “I know you’re upset. But you’re… you’re ‘locked,’ Elena. You know that. I can’t be expected to ignore my own needs forever just because your body failed. As for the car, I told you, it belongs to a friend. You’re making a scene over nothing.” “What’s this friend’s name?” He paused. “That’s not important.” The dam broke. I lunged forward and swept the roses off the table, scattering them across the floor. “What is important, then? The fact that our seven-year anniversary gift was a live-streamed humiliation? Or the fact that you planned to fake an intimate moment with a piece of plastic?” “Enough!” Bennett stood up, his voice booming. “Stop being so hysterical! What do I have to do to make you believe me?” “Sell the car,” I screamed. “Sell it right now!” He looked at me like I was a lunatic. “Are you insane? That’s a three-hundred-thousand-dollar vehicle!” “So?” “So, it’s a car, Elena! You want me to throw away a fortune because you’re having a mood swing? Look, I get it—you’re frustrated because you’re broken. But don’t take your inadequacy out on me.” It felt like a jagged blade had been driven into my chest. I was trembling so hard I could barely stand. “I wasn’t born this way, Bennett! The accident—” “I KNOW!” he roared. “And I married you anyway! I’ve spent seven years playing nursemaid to a woman who can’t even be a wife. Isn’t that enough? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness for being a human being with human desires?” The sight of his distorted, angry face flicked a switch inside me. The rage died, replaced by a terrifying, hollow calm. I spoke one word. “Leave.” Bennett’s face went from white to a mottled, ugly red. He didn’t say another word. He grabbed his coat and slammed the front door so hard the windows rattled. I sank onto the sofa, staring at the dying roses. The silence of the house began to scream. I don’t know how long I sat there before the doorbell rang. I thought it was Bennett, coming back to finish the fight. I opened the door, ready to scream. But it wasn’t him. It was a woman. Young, beautiful, with long chestnut waves and a soft, sugary smile. She was wearing a pale pink manicure. She tilted her head. “Hi there. You must be Elena. I’m Jasmine, a… close friend of Bennett’s.” Jasmine. The jasmine stickers in the car. The cold returned, sharper than before. This was her. The girl from the post. The ghost who had finally taken on flesh. 4 “What do you want?” “Oh, just a few things,” she said, dangling a set of Rolls-Royce keys from her finger. “Bennett said I could stop by and pick up some of my stuff. He mentioned I might have left a few personal items around here.” She moved to step past me into the foyer. I blocked her. “There’s nothing of yours here.” Jasmine blinked innocently. “Are you sure? I think I left them in the master bedroom. Last month, when Bennett was… stressed. I came over to help him relax. I think I dropped a Tiffany earring by the nightstand. They’re quite expensive.” She watched my eyes, her smile widening as she saw the realization hit me. “Honestly, Elena, I feel bad for you. Keeping up this hollow marriage… it must be exhausting. Bennett hasn’t loved you in years. He wanted to leave right after the accident, but he’s such a softie. He felt sorry for you. He’s stayed out of pure, agonizing pity.” “What are you talking about?” Jasmine took a step closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you even know what kind of car hit you seven years ago?” My breath hitched. She giggled. “It was a Rolls-Royce Phantom. Brand new. My dad’s car. Bennett was so terrified I’d go to jail that he bought the car from my father, had it repainted, and hid it. That’s why the police never found the hit-and-run driver.” The world tilted. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. “Oh, and one more thing.” She pulled a folder from her designer bag. “You’ve always wondered why you were ‘locked’ after the surgery, haven’t you?” She pulled out a medical report. “Bennett performed a little extra procedure while you were under. He ‘fixed’ you so you could never be with anyone else. He told me it was the only way he could ensure he stayed ‘faithful’ to me—by making sure his wife was biologically unavailable.” The papers fluttered to the floor. I stared at the technical diagrams, at Bennett’s familiar, elegant signature at the bottom of the surgical notes. The words blurred into a dark abyss, pulling me down. It was all a lie. The accident. The “complications.” The seven years of “care.” He hadn’t saved me. He had dismantled me. A primal, guttural scream tore out of my throat. The world went red. I lunged at her, my fingers tangling in her perfect hair as I dragged her to the floor. She shrieked, her nails clawing at my face, but I didn’t feel it. I just wanted to tear the truth out of her. I pinned her down, my hand cracking across her face again and again—years of repressed pain and betrayal fueling every blow. Jasmine cried out, shielding her face, and suddenly, a dark red stain began to spread across her pale skirt. The metallic scent of blood hit the air. The door burst open. Bennett charged in. He saw me on top of Jasmine and his eyes turned murderous. “ELENA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” He didn’t pull me off. He kicked me. Hard. The blow landed in my side, sending me sprawling across the room. I hit the edge of the coffee table, my head snapping back. The roses were everywhere now, their petals mixing with the blood on the floor. Bennett was on his knees beside Jasmine, his hands trembling as he pressed them against her stomach. “Jasmine? Talk to me! Oh god, the baby…” “Bennett… the baby… my baby…” she sobbed. A baby. They had a child. I lay on the floor, paralyzed, watching Bennett’s back as he cradled her like she was his entire world. I wanted to cry, but I was empty. There was nothing left in me but ash. Bennett turned his head, his gaze falling on the scattered medical files on the floor. His face went deathly pale.

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The Q1 sales blitz deadline was hitting me like a speeding train: fifty car loans closed by New Year’s Eve, or I was out of a job. It was December 30th, and even pushing myself to the absolute breaking point, I was still ten contracts short. That’s when the news alert popped up on my phone. WESTON GROUP’S HOLIDAY BONUS: ONE HUNDRED HIGH-PERFORMING EMPLOYEES RECEIVE A NEW CAR! In a final, humiliating act of desperation, I dialed my father’s number. We hadn’t spoken in five years. “I saw the news about the Weston Group cars,” I managed, my voice thin and tight. “Could they process the financing through me? I… I just need this last push to hit my numbers for the month.” The silence on the line stretched out, five years thick. Finally, that familiar, clipped sigh. “Fine, Anna.” But before I could even breathe out, my twin sister’s voice, sharp and icy, cut through the receiver. “Don’t you dare, Dad! She walked out on this family! She said she wouldn’t rely on us!” The line went dead. The silence that followed was suffocating, the vast, echoing sound of a door slamming shut. A nurse walked into my small hospital room, dropping the final, urgent statement for my chemotherapy payment onto the table. “Look, beds are a premium,” she said, her voice completely devoid of sympathy. “If you can’t cover the balance, you need to be discharged. You’re not the only one fighting cancer, and others are waiting.” … 1. The diagnosis had devoured every cent of my savings. I was fighting cancer and my career at the same time. Now, the money was gone, the sickness wasn’t, and my job was about to vanish. I maxed out the last dollar on my credit card to settle the bill, signed the discharge papers, and stepped back out onto the street. The cold was a physical shock. Shivering, I didn’t know where to go. All I could do was replay the pathetic highlight reel of my useless life. My father, Conrad Weston, subscribed to a brutal form of meritocracy. From the moment my sister and I were born, we were competitors. Victoria opened her eyes first. She got the formula; I was relegated to rice cereal. She crawled at six months, and Dad hired ten rotating specialists for her. I was left in a nursery, fed on a strict schedule, but mostly alone. When we started school, she had the best tutors and scored one hundred percent on every test. If I brought home a ninety-nine, I missed dinner. “You want it, you earn it,” he would drone, his expression cold. “If you fail, it’s not the system; it’s you. You slacked off. Remember this, Anna: The strong take all. It’s the only law that matters, in this house and in the world.” At six years old, I etched his words into my heart. I cannot slack off. I must earn that missing point. I must earn my parents’ love. I pulled all-nighters, threw myself at my schoolwork, and finally, for an entire semester, I matched Victoria: A perfect one hundred on everything. But it wasn’t enough. She not only aced her exams, but she also clinched the National Junior Track Title for the state. That winter break, Mom and Dad took her on a lavish European tour, leaving me alone to house-sit. I survived on cold water and day-old bread, convinced it was the penance I deserved for not trying hard enough. I set a goal. Ten years. I would get into a better college than she did. Just once, I would win a reward from them. I became a machine. A straight-A, sleepless automaton. Then, on the day the acceptance letters came out, I collapsed. I slept through the day in a feverish haze. When I woke up that evening, the house was silent. Empty. The sickness gave me a strange clarity. I found our applications and slowly, tremulously, typed the access codes into the computer. My hand was shaking so badly I almost missed the key. I opened my eyes. I had scored one point higher. I had won. I knelt there, sobbing uncontrollably. Ten years of grinding effort, finally justified. I had to tell them. I ran out the front door, shouting. The neighbor’s nanny was locking up. She stared at me, confused. “You didn’t go? Your parents are hosting Victoria’s acceptance party at the Peninsula Ballroom. Everyone in the district is there.” By the time I reached the ballroom, Victoria was basking in the spotlight, a gilded princess in a designer dress. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate my success,” she purred into the mic. “And thank you, Mom and Dad, for throwing this wonderful party.” Her celebration? I won. It was my moment. 2. I burst through the crowd, crying, and screamed at my father. “You lied to me! You said the strong take all! Why is she here when I beat her?!” Conrad looked at me with profound disappointment, sighing heavily. Victoria lowered her champagne glass, a look of utter contempt on her perfect face. “I had my Stanford acceptance months ago, Anna,” she said dismissively. “The finals were just busy work. Did you really think you could win against me? And honestly, is this place for people like you? So gauche.” The thing I had sacrificed ten years of my life for, she treated as a trivial annoyance. My world didn’t just collapse; it vaporized. My mother, Bethany, came over, trying to physically pull me away. But I was stubborn. I had dreamed of a moment like this my entire life. I wanted to stay. Then I saw the massive tiered cake. Driven by a raw, hungry impulse I didn’t recognize, I rushed the table, grabbed a fistful of frosting and cake, and shoved it into my mouth. I was crying and choking at the same time. The onlookers stared, utterly horrified, as if watching a wild animal. Conrad strode over and slapped me across the face. The shock cleared my tears instantly. “Crying is useless! If you’re incompetent, you go back and work harder!” he hissed. “Don’t put on a pathetic show for pity. Do you think this madness will make us coddle you?” That was the spark. Victoria’s face was pure, unadulterated venom. She swept the remaining cake to the floor. “I have tolerated you for too long, Anna. What is your purpose?” she shrieked. “You consume resources and produce nothing but mediocrity. This is not a sustainable model. A dog has loyalty, a business asset has value—what is yourcontribution? Honestly, we’d all be happier if you weren’t even here.” Her words pressed me into the polished floor, suffocating me. I shrieked back, tears streaming. “I may be useless, but I’m still your daughter!” The noise died. The silence returned, crushing. In the dead stillness, my father spoke the four words that ended my life with them. “A worthless waste.” The words detonated in my skull. I was numb. “I tried! I worked so hard! How am I worthless?! If I had your tutors, Victoria’s resources, I could have been better!” Victoria charged forward and shoved me. I fell backward onto the cake-smeared floor. “I earned my resources! You don’t deserve anything I have!” Conrad watched with cold eyes. Mom was consoling Victoria. No one looked at my pathetic form on the floor. I scrambled up, wiping the sticky frosting from my skirt, utterly humiliated. “Fine! I don’t belong here!” I screamed, running for the exit. “I will never bother you again! I will never ask you for anything, ever!” … 3. The icy wind of that long-ago night now seemed to be blowing straight through me again. I will never ask you for anything, ever. What a pathetic, empty promise. Now, I was sick, dying, unable to afford treatment, and I had broken that vow in a desperate plea for ten lousy car loans. But reality offered no space for sentiment. A notification popped up from my bank supervisor. TO ALL: The Year-End Push is not a goal—it is the floor! Everyone must carry their weight. No retreat! We’ll see who’s standing and who’s kneeling in the next ten hours! A fitting epitaph. Worthless or not, I wanted to live. I hadn’t actually lived yet. In a last-ditch effort, I called my Uncle Franklin—Dad’s older brother, a reliable, quiet presence. “Ten cars?” Uncle Frank said, his voice surprisingly warm. “No problem, Anna. The kids need their holiday cars anyway. I’ll even set one aside for you. It’s been too many years since you’ve come home for the holidays.” My nose stung. I choked back a sob. “Thank you, Uncle Frank. But I don’t need the car.” I didn’t even have a moment to dry my tears before a new number flashed on my screen. It was Victoria. My elite sister. “Anna, don’t cheat. If you have such dignity, then use it,” she sneered. “Uncle Frank is Dad’s brother. You’re a low-level loan officer. How could you possibly have accessed him? You’re a worthless waste; you can’t even keep your word.” She paused, a triumphant inhale. “Luckily, he called Dad, and I answered. I assured him you’re doing just fine and need no charity. He agreed not to use you for his volume. Did you really think money grows on trees just because you’re used to being a liability?” The phone clicked off. The last pinprick of light had been extinguished. I wandered the streets of Chicago. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, the city was bright with lights, tinsel, and forced good cheer. Everyone looked happy, unburdened. Why couldn’t I be one of them? I grabbed a startled man walking by. “Are you looking to buy a new car? Car loan?” He yanked his arm away, staring at me like a madwoman. “Get lost, psycho!” Eventually, I found myself outside the wrought-iron gates of the Weston estate. Should I beg? Should I swallow my pride, apologize, and promise to work harder if they just paid for my treatment? I typed the old security code into the keypad. Nothing. They had changed it. Screw them. I used the last reserves of my strength to hoist myself over the tall brick wall. Let them all suffer. Inside, the courtyard was a riot of cheerful red and green lights and scarlet ribbons. So festive. I remembered every Christmas Eve, locked in that small nursery, reflecting on all the ways I had failed to be better than Victoria. I had never once had Christmas dinner with them. Before I died, I was going to have a proper meal. 4. I crept to the kitchen. It was stocked like a five-star pantry. I ripped open a container of high-end strawberries and stuffed them in my mouth, then cherries, then plums. Then I spotted it: a massive platter of Conrad’s famous Holiday Roulade, which he only made for special occasions. The highest accolade in the Weston house. I had never once tasted it. I gorged myself until I was sick and gagging. I ate every single bite. Then, I crept to the window of the living room. Inside, it was a perfectly framed picture of a happy family—a holiday commercial. I picked up a heavy paving stone, ready to hurl it through the glass and give them a surprise. Then I heard Mom’s voice. “Do you think Anna might be in some kind of trouble?” My father looked older, his face slightly softer in the holiday light. “If you’re worried about her, Bethany, just call her yourself.” A tiny, flickering candle of hope flared inside me. I waited for my own phone to ring, imagining what she might say. But Victoria instantly clamped her hand over Mom’s arm. “Trouble? No. She’s just looking for a shortcut. A handout. If you help her now, it’s completely unfair to me.” Mom immediately dropped her hand, and Dad wrapped her in a hug. “Alright, alright, I won’t call her,” he soothed. Conrad sighed, completely dismissive. “If she were in real trouble, she’d be here. But she’s weak; she’s always been too weak. I spoiled her a little when she was younger because she was frail, and that’s how she became so incompetent. She’s probably just drifting, chasing shortcuts and avoiding work. If she ever comes back, I’ll have to properly educate her.” Listening to them, a profound, soul-deep weariness settled over me. The paving stone felt impossibly heavy. I tried to lift it, but my arms wouldn’t obey. The window glass reflected my own face—gaunt, pale, and completely defeated. I was too tired to fight. I was the scrap, the off-cut. I didn’t want to struggle anymore. Bye-bye, world. I dropped the stone and curled up in the corner of the wall to wait for death. A scrawny stray cat, meowing piteously, wandered toward me. I gathered it into my arms, hugging it close for warmth. It immediately went quiet. Dad hated these “filthy animals.” At least now, my dying wouldn’t interrupt their perfect family evening. See? I was useful for something after all. My body, already a ragged piece of cloth from the cancer and chemo, was quickly failing under the bitter cold. Death came faster than I expected. Slipping out of my ruined shell, I felt light. Free. I floated, holding the little cat, and drifted into the house. Dad was already talking about next year’s business plan: strive, strive, strive. Dead is good. I never have to strive again. I spent the night floating over the guest bed, resting. It was truly comfortable. Just before dawn, I heard the maid’s shriek. “There’s someone sitting by the wall! She’s frozen! I think… I think it’s the second Miss!” All three of them rushed into the courtyard, stopping a few feet away from my body. The night’s drizzle and the sudden drop in temperature had left a delicate layer of frost on my hair. Conrad frowned. “Help her inside.” 5. Victoria immediately stopped the maid. “It’s a pathetic stunt, Dad! She’s not a child! If she was cold, she’d walk in!” Victoria spat, her voice ringing with certainty. “She’s waiting for your pity so she can ask for the car loans again. She’s all about manipulation and shortcuts.” Mom looked at my body, a flicker of worry in her eyes. “Victoria, it’s freezing out here.” Victoria stamped her foot and pulled her arm from Mom’s grasp. “Are you serious? You think the Chicago weather will actually kill her? Look! She’s fine! She even has the audacity to play with a filthy cat!” Conrad finally noticed the stray cat clutched to my chest and grimaced in disgust. They turned to walk back inside. Then the kitchen staff ran over, holding the phone I had dropped last night. “The holiday food is ruined! Someone got into the kitchen and made a huge mess!” Conrad grabbed the phone, his face contorted in rage. “Worthless waste, even now!” Mom chimed in, “We never starved her! Why does she act like a ghoul? And what’s on her mouth? Is that strawberry jam?” That was the blood I threw up before I died, Mom. They all stared at my face, a slow, dawning realization spreading through them. Suddenly, my phone buzzed violently. It was my supervisor’s voice, booming through the speaker. “Anna Weston! Did you not see the team message?! Six a.m. sharp for the Year-End Sales Report! Where are you?! You’ve been bottom of the ladder for a year, and now you’re late?!” The accusation broke my father. He let out a yell and threw the phone with all his might. It struck my head and clattered into my lap. “I am ruined because of you! You have humiliated me for the last time!” The phone vibrated endlessly. Conrad pointed at the maid. “Get that disgusting animal out of her hands! Get the phone! They’re both filthy!” The maid, terrified of the cat, gingerly poked it with a long broom handle. Her face instantly went pale. “It’s… hard. It’s a dead cat.” A sudden, murderous rage consumed my father. He rushed forward and violently kicked my body. “I said, stop playing with dead things!” My frozen body, rigid as a column of ice, toppled over with a sickening thud.

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