Category: English

The day of the client dinner, my boss insisted we go to The Sterling Steakhouse, a place where the tasting menu starts at $300 a head. When the check came, he had me put the $1,250 on my personal card. But when I submitted the receipt for reimbursement, the finance department told me the absolute maximum they could approve was $500. I went back to my boss, Walter, to explain. He just glanced dismissively at the receipt in my hand. “That extra $750? That’s on you for being incompetent.” I didn’t get angry. I smiled. Then I walked out of the office and called the client to split the remaining $750 with me. 1 “Now, Jessica, I see your potential, I really do,” Walter began, his tone dripping with condescension. “But you know the company’s expense policy. The limit is $500. Anything over that is a clear violation.” I stared at the $1,250 receipt in my hand and the notification on my phone confirming a $500 deposit from the company. Suddenly, the memory of myself in the restaurant bathroom last night, forcing myself to throw up so I could go back out and keep drinking for the deal, felt like a sick joke. “Mr. Davis, you were the one who insisted on The Sterling Steakhouse,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “A place that costs $300 per person. There were three of us from the company. We were over the limit before we even ordered appetizers.” “You’re also the one who told me to pay for it, who promised the company would reimburse me in full. Why the sudden change of heart?” I clutched the receipt, my hand trembling with barely suppressed rage. Walter just tapped his pen impatiently on the polished surface of his desk. “You know the rules. If I make an exception for you, what kind of message does that send to the rest of the staff? Don’t think that landing one big account puts you on my level.” He leaned forward, his voice turning sharp. “Don’t blame the system for your own incompetence. Now, it’s working hours. You should be at your desk, not wasting my time.” He buzzed his assistant to show me out. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, a final, unceremonious dismissal. My mind was a whirlwind of fury, replaying the scene from the night before. Walter, expansive and magnanimous, slapping me on the back. “Jess, my girl! You landed us the biggest account of the year! As a reward, we’ll take Mr. Grayson to The Sterling Steakhouse tonight! Time you saw how the big leagues operate.” Even then, I had tried to stop him. “Mr. Davis, that place is $300 a head. Even if we’re careful, we’ll blow past the $500 reimbursement limit.” He acted as if he hadn’t heard me. He was already on the phone with the client. “Robert! All set for tonight. The Sterling… yes, that’s the one. See you at eight!” He hung up and immediately texted Mr. Grayson the location, following up with a string of voice notes confirming the restaurant, as if our most important client was incapable of reading a map. I tried one last time. “The reimbursement limit is $500. Will the company cover the overage? Besides, The Sterling is almost impossible to book on short notice…” He cut me off, slamming his hand on the table. “I already told the man where we’re going. Are you going to make me a liar? Make the reservation!” I’m just an employee. I did what I was told. The Sterling was impossible to book. I had to call in a massive favor, begging and pleading until a private room was miraculously made available. And this was my reward. A passing coworker saw me standing outside Walter’s closed door and sidled up to me, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, your commission on that deal is over three grand, not to mention the bonus. The company’s been good to you. Is it really worth fighting over a few hundred bucks? You’re starting to sound greedy.” Before I could even respond, the sharp voice of Linda from Finance cut through the air. “Jessica. We need to discuss your last expense report. There are some… discrepancies.” 2 Being summoned by Linda was never a good thing. My coworkers were already rubbernecking, sensing drama. I was about to follow her to her office, hoping to plead my case about the dinner again, when she stopped in the middle of the open-plan floor and decided to make it a public execution. “Jessica Pierce!” she shrieked, her voice echoing off the cubicle walls. “How dare you submit an expense report for $1,800 for a three-day trip! Who do you think you are, the CEO?” The entire office fell silent. Her voice was a drill in my ear. “So young, and already trying to cheat the company! You think this is your personal piggy bank? First, you try to expense a $1,250 dinner you knew was over the limit, and now I find this? An $1,800 travel bill? You’ve got a lot of nerve!” A murmur rippled through the office. “Wow, she seems so innocent, but she’s skimming off the expense reports?” “I know, right? Tacky. And who spends $1,250 on one dinner?” Walter emerged from his office, a cigarette dangling from his lips, drawn by the commotion. He saw me, and his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You again? What’s this about $1,800?” Linda seized her moment. “Mr. Davis! It’s her! Three days on the road! The train tickets for her and the client were $650! Shipping for the samples was another $150! And the hotel… she submitted a bill for $750!” Her voice rose to a screech. “Were you staying in a hotel made of solid gold?” At the mention of the hotel bill, Walter’s face darkened. He stalked over and flicked his cigarette onto my shoe, grinding the embers into the leather with a look of utter contempt. “A $750 hotel bill, you say?” He smirked. “Fine. We’ll approve a payment that starts with a seven.” Linda understood immediately. She scribbled on an approval form and handed it to me. The approved amount was $75. “Company policy is company policy,” Walter said, his voice dripping with fake sincerity. “You’re a smart girl, Jessica. Don’t think landing one big deal means the rules don’t apply to you. You need to learn to think before you act.” A bitter, hysterical laugh escaped my lips. That “one big deal” was worth millions. Walter’s personal cut alone would exceed the company’s profits from the previous year. My commission was a paltry $3,100—the “over three grand” my coworker had mentioned. To close that deal, I had pulled a month of all-nighters. I’d lost count of the weekends I’d worked. When the contract was finally signed, all Walter said was, “Good job. This is what you’re paid for.” He never saw the endless revisions, the canceled plans, the nights I spent sleeping at my desk. I’d been to the doctor three times for a stress-induced stomach ulcer, but I still showed up to every client dinner, smiling and drinking until the deal was done. Before that business trip, I had followed protocol. I had specifically requested approval for the higher hotel costs. “Mr. Davis,” I’d said, “the client has very specific accommodation requirements. It’s going to be more expensive than our usual rate…” He had cut me off before I could finish. “Rules are for schmucks, Jessica. People are what matter. You land this deal, and I’ll approve whatever it takes. Just keep the client happy. Money is no object!” I had the entire conversation recorded, just in case. But it didn’t matter. He was denying it anyway. Every single receipt was legitimate. Every expense was pre-approved, verbally at least. $1,800 was two months’ salary for me. After rent, my last paycheck was almost gone. Now, with the dinner bill added on top, my bank account was practically empty. 3 Just as I was about to argue, to play the recording, Linda slid my monthly pay slip onto my desk. I looked at the number. $75. I felt my mind go blank. “Linda, is this a mistake?” She didn’t even look at me, already moving on to the next person. The other employees shot me pitying, scornful looks. I was now officially the office pariah, the greedy grifter. “A mistake?” she said without turning around. “Don’t you remember what you did last month? Or do I need to humiliate you in front of everyone again? I’m doing you a favor by not making a scene. Don’t push it.” I crumpled the pay slip in my fist, the last of my control snapping. I threw it at her head. “What did I do?” I snarled, my voice shaking. “I worked every single night for a month on that deal. I was on the road, visiting construction sites. I ended up in the emergency room with a bleeding ulcer! You told me yourself to take it easy! Did you forget? We can check the security footage if you need a reminder!” Linda was not one to back down. The sight of the pay slip fluttering to the floor sent her into a rage. She slapped me, hard, across the face. “Don’t you dare, Jessica! Your monthly salary is $4,000! That includes a $500 attendance bonus and a $1,000 performance bonus!” Right. A $2,500 base salary. After taxes, it came to just over three thousand a month. I could accept losing the attendance bonus; I had been sick. My head was ringing from the slap. I stared at the floor. “What about my commission for closing the deal?” Linda snorted. “Commission? Has the client even paid the first invoice? You don’t get a bonus until the money is in our account. And since that deal was your only performance metric last month and it hasn’t paid out yet, you get zero for your performance bonus. You were also absent, so that’s another five hundred gone.” “Oh, and you broke a printer. That’s a deduction for damaging company property. You’re lucky to be getting seventy-five bucks at all. I was being generous.” Her voice echoed in the silent office. My coworkers stared at their own pay slips, not daring to breathe, lest their own meager salaries be targeted next. “That printer was broken before I got there,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “I told you, it started smoking the second I walked near it. I never even touched it.” “And my expense report… every single item is within company guidelines. Every receipt is accounted for. You’re refusing to reimburse me?” My final question was so calm it seemed to unnerve her. She froze, at a loss for words. But Walter stepped in from behind me with a cold laugh. “Reimburse you? You’re lucky you still have a job.” I turned slowly to face him. “Oh, I’m not quitting. In fact, Mr. Grayson said he wants me to personally handle his next project. I wouldn’t want to miss out on that bonus.” I gave him a smile that was all teeth. It worked. He nodded, his mood instantly shifting. He even patted me on the shoulder. “See? That’s the spirit. Look, Jess, don’t take it personally. But rules are rules. I can’t bend them, even for a star employee. You understand, right?” He shoved a copy of the company’s official expense policy handbook into my hands. I took it, my smile widening. “Of course, Mr. Davis. I understand completely. Rules are rules.” The moment I stepped out of the building, I took the handbook, drove straight to Mr. Grayson’s office, and laid it on his desk. “Mr. Grayson,” I said. “About dinner last night. The bill came to $1,250. My company’s policy only covers $500. I was hoping we could split the difference.”

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1 The first thing I did after being diagnosed with late-stage brain cancer was to sleep with my husband’s brother. Liam burst through the door, his foot crushing a discarded ultra-thin condom. I’d never seen such a deranged look on his face. He’d beaten a man to a bloody pulp, then gripped my throat, his voice trembling. “Why would you do this? Have you lost your mind?” I gasped for air, nearly suffocating, but a laugh still escaped my lips. Why? Because I was dying. Before I faced the end, I wanted to taste that forbidden pleasure, the one that drove him so mad. … The ambulance’s red lights vanished completely outside the window. A suffocating silence hung in the room, the mingled stench of blood and lust nauseating. Liam still stood in the living room’s center, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his clenched fists onto the floor. His eyes, bloodshot and furious, were fixed on me. Yet, beneath the rage, something else within them shattered. “Why?” His voice was raspy, broken. “Why would you do this to me?” I didn’t flinch, just pulled the torn silk robe tighter around myself. “Why?” My voice was barely a whisper. “Shouldn’t that be my line, Mr. Weston?” “Because you enjoyed sleeping with my once-best friend so much.” I took a step closer, the metallic scent of his blood mingling with the lingering notes of the expensive cologne Scarlett adored. “So much that you crawled into her bed again and again, like a desperate dog.” “So, I wanted to try it, too. See just how ‘good’ my husband’s brother was.” I watched his face drain of all color, each word a poisoned dart. “You’ve slept with her how many times? Well, I’ve slept with just as many men. Tonight was just bad luck, you walking in on me.” Liam’s face went utterly white. “The past… I was a bastard. Can we just move past it?” He looked at me, his eyes bloodshot, pleading. “I know you’re saying all this to provoke me. I promise I’ll never see her again. We can go back to how things were when we first got married, please?” “Go back to how things were?” I numbly glanced down at my trembling fingertips. The doctor’s words were still etched in my mind. “You’ve missed the optimal treatment window.” Meaning: no cure. So there was no “after” for me, only a countdown. Liam knew nothing of this. Just as he’d never know that Scarlett shared every intimate detail of their affair with me, day after day. And of course, his promises were hollow. No sooner had the words left his lips than his phone chimed with Scarlett’s custom ringtone—a soft, suggestive melody. Liam stiffened. “Go on, answer it,” I said, leaning against the wall and lighting a cigarette. “Put it on speaker. Let me hear what earth-shattering crisis my ‘best friend’ is facing this time.” Liam hesitated, then answered. Even without speakerphone, Scarlett’s fragile, tearful voice was distinct. “Liam, Chase is banging on my door again… I’m so scared.” The veneer of composure and guilt Liam wore instantly crumbled, replaced by frantic worry. “Don’t be scared! Lock the door, I’m on my way!” he yelled into the phone, turning to grab his jacket without even a glance at me. “Liam.” I called his name. He turned back, his eyes alight with undisguised urgency and impatience. “Eliza, you know Chase is a lunatic. I have to go!” I couldn’t help but laugh, and as I did, a sharp pain spread through my chest. But you just said you wouldn’t see her again. You said the same thing when you abandoned me on our anniversary. When I was writhing in cramps from my period, you held her, startled, and called me to say: “Scarlett needs me right now. It’s just your period, Eliza, can’t you just tough it out?” Time and again, I believed, only to be drenched in disappointment. I was beyond sick of it. “Call the cops,” I said. “Are 911 services broken? Does it require your personal intervention, Mr. Weston?” “Eliza!” Liam’s face was a mixture of disbelief and profound disappointment. “That’s Scarlett! Your best friend! Are you really going to let me abandon her? How did you get so cold-hearted?” “Yes, I’m cold-hearted.” My expression remained detached, but my clasped hands trembled slightly. “I’m also wicked, shameless, and I just slept with your brother. If you leave me alone here, aren’t you afraid I’ll find another Julian?” Liam’s face was a mottled canvas of white and green, his breathing ragged. Scarlett’s tearful pleas on the phone continued, an urgent death knell. He stared at me for a few agonizing seconds, the conflict in his eyes finally hardening into resolve. “I love you, but I genuinely don’t have time for this drama right now.” The sigh escaped him, and he snatched his jacket, heading for the door. It slammed shut. My phone screen lit up. A message from Scarlett. “I’m truly sorry.” “But compared to you, I really do love him more.” “And he really does love me more.” If someone had told eighteen-year-old Eliza, that one day Scarlett would sleep with Liam, she would have furiously denied it. It was too absurd, how could it be? Scarlett and I were both orphans, growing up together in the same foster care facility, leaning on each other. She worked three jobs to put me through college. I put her name on my property deed, to give her a sense of security. And Liam? He’d secretly loved me for over a decade. Handwritten love letters, rooftop confessions—everyone knew it in high school. They were the two people who loved me most. I still remembered our wedding day, Scarlett crying and cursing in front of all the guests: “You dog! If you dare make Eliza shed even a single tear, I swear I’ll never forgive you!” My heart had swelled with so much gratitude for their love back then. The truth, when it was finally laid bare, was far more brutal. In my second month of pregnancy, Scarlett was beaten by her abusive husband and hospitalized. Two broken ribs, her face swollen like a balloon. I stayed by her bedside for three days, begging Liam to find her the best doctors and lawyers. After she was discharged, Scarlett had nowhere to go. I begged Liam again to let her stay in our guest room temporarily. “Just for a little while, until she finds her own place, okay?” I pleaded, tugging on Liam’s hand. He frowned, looking reluctant. “Scarlett and I don’t really get along. I don’t want to turn our home into a circus.” But ultimately, he couldn’t resist my persistent nagging and nodded. It was me who pulled strings to get Scarlett’s son into a good preschool. It was me, again, who asked Liam to find her a low-stress job at his company. I ran around, doing everything I could to make her life easier. While I, with my growing belly, was helping her fight her abusive ex-husband, Scarlett and Liam were busy in a passionate affair. The day the appeal came through, sentencing her ex-husband to five months in jail, I burst through the door, excited to share the good news. And that’s when I saw Scarlett, naked, perched on the coffee table, moaning as if at death’s door. Liam was kissing her neck, their lower bodies pressed tightly together. For a full minute, lost in their love-haze, they didn’t notice me, standing there, my face chalk-white. The fool, I had invited a wolf into my home. I had believed in a sisterly bond, strong as steel, believed true love could never spoil. Even God must have found me laughable. And so, I was punished. Punished to be betrayed by my only friend and my beloved husband. Punished to have only a few dozen hours left of my life. Liam slammed the door and didn’t come back. The next day, he sent a text. “Urgent company matter, out of town for a few days. Rest well at home.” Urgent matter? Was it an urgent roll in the hay with Scarlett, or an urgent parent-teacher conference for her son? Well, it was for the best. With only a few days left, I wouldn’t have to see that repulsive face. I pushed myself up, my legs weak and trembling, and began to tie up loose ends. A coffin, it turned out, was surprisingly heavy. Or maybe it was just that I had no strength left. The funeral home director probably hadn’t encountered a client so young and composed, and seemed hesitant. I simply looked down and said, “It’s for myself.” Next, I found a lawyer to draft my will. Finally, the letter. My pen hovered for a long time. Images flickered through my mind: Scarlett’s innocent smile as a child, Liam’s fervent declarations of love in our youth. They all coalesced into two entwined bodies. I smiled bitterly, writing only one sentence: “Please scatter my ashes in the ocean.” By the time I finished, night had fallen. My head throbbed violently, like a drill boring into my brain. The doctor had warned me: the final stage would bring pain, blindness, loss of consciousness. I almost wished it would come quickly. But one lingering desire tugged at me, a last thread of defiance. I wanted to ride the Ferris wheel one more time. I’d only ridden it twice in my life. The first time was when I was ten. Scarlett and I collected scrap metal in the hills behind the orphanage for three months, saved up enough money, and hand-in-hand, climbed into that old, rickety Ferris wheel at the rundown amusement park. At the very top, we swore to the city laid out beneath us like a box of matches: “Scarlett and Eliza will be best friends forever, never to be separated!” The second time was my twentieth birthday. Liam rented out the entire Ferris wheel. As we reached the highest point, he pulled out a ring, his voice trembling with nerves: “Eliza, marry me. I’ll love you, protect you, and be good to you for the rest of our lives.” How ironic. But I still wanted to go. Because it was the only joy left in my absurd life. The amusement park was crowded on the weekend. I stood in the long queue, my head splitting, my vision beginning to blur. I squeezed my hand tightly, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass. Then, I saw them. Liam, Scarlett, and her son, Leo. Scarlett brushed a strand of hair from Liam’s forehead, a picture of domestic bliss. They looked like any ordinary family of three on a weekend outing, taking their child to the park. I stood there, my blood instantly frozen. I thought my heart was dead, that nothing could hurt me anymore. But seeing that tender scene, I broke. Her child was growing up happily. My child was a bloody mess on a hospital floor. That night, sticky blood had spread beneath me, and the doctor had regretfully announced: “I’m sorry, your uterus ruptured. We couldn’t save the baby.” It was after I discovered their affair that I went mad, throwing all of Scarlett’s things out. Liam, rushing to protect her, accidentally pushed me in the chaos. Just that one push. My baby was gone. Later, I asked Scarlett why she did this to me. She just looked at me, smiling gently as she always had. “Eliza, don’t blame Liam. He’s just soft-hearted, he felt sorry for Leo and me.” “But honestly, Liam is so much better in bed than Chase, and much more… forceful. He never did that to you, did he? He always said you were like a dead fish, so boring.” “He said he’d put Leo’s name on the deed for the school-district apartment. It’ll be our home. You can’t have children anyway, so there’s no point in you holding onto it.” “Oh, and remember when you had those terrible cramps and went to the hospital? Liam was going to go, but I told him I was scared, and he said you wouldn’t die from a little pain…” Breathing became difficult. An invisible hand squeezed my heart, the pain so intense I doubled over. The line moved slowly forward. They were getting closer, close enough to hear Leo’s joyful laughter. Finally, it was their turn. Liam carefully placed Leo into a gondola, then helped Scarlett in. The door closed, and they began to ascend. I dragged my heavy steps, entering the gondola right behind theirs. As we reached the highest point, I saw it in the gondola ahead. Liam leaned down and kissed Scarlett. A soft, tender kiss. Leo, sitting between them, clapped his little hands, giggling happily. In that moment, all sound vanished. My pale, distorted face was reflected in the glass. The pain in my brain reached its peak. I clutched my head, screaming, but it brought no relief. Let this be it. At the highest point of the Ferris wheel, where my love began and my friendship was buried. My life, too, reached its end. Fireworks exploded, their joyous cracks drowning out the wail of an ambulance. Liam, holding Scarlett’s and Leo’s hands, walked towards the exit, a strange restlessness in his heart. Scarlett looked at him, concerned. “Is Eliza faking sick again to get you to come back? Maybe you should go be with her.” “No, we promised Leo we’d celebrate his birthday.” Liam suppressed the unsettling feeling, driving to buy Leo his favorite Ultraman cake. When the candles were blown out, Scarlett gently asked, “What did our little darling wish for?” “I wish that bad woman would hurry up and die.” No sooner had the words left his lips than Liam sharply smacked the boy’s backside, sternly saying, “Don’t say such things!” Leo burst into tears, and Scarlett protectively pulled the child into her arms. “What was that for? Kids say the darndest things,” she said. “Besides, wasn’t it Eliza who was unreasonable, throwing out all our things and scaring Leo?” The memory of that day was too painful; the feeling of indirectly causing his own child’s death was not easy to bear. Liam irritably went out to the balcony to smoke. Scarlett walked over and leaned into his embrace, playfully. “You promised Leo that school-district apartment. You can’t let Eliza’s little tantrums mess up Leo’s big future.” The man was silent for a moment, then conceded. “I know.” That night, Liam, as usual, held Scarlett as he fell asleep, but an unreasoning dread clung to him. He sent many messages. But his wife didn’t reply to a single one. Had she gone to find another man to provoke him again? At four in the morning, Liam’s head throbbed, unbearable. He decided to go home. He thought, maybe I should buy some flowers to appease her. Eliza loved lilies, he wondered if he could even find them at this hour. Liam was distractedly pondering this when his phone suddenly rang urgently. “Who is it?” Scarlett frowned, opening her eyes. Liam pressed the answer button. In the darkness, the voice on the other end was grave and clear. “Hello, is this Mr. Weston? Your wife, Eliza Weston, passed away half an hour ago after surgery failed to save her. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible to identify the body.”

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When my parents separated, they made a deal: Dad would take care of my sister, and Mom would raise me. So, Dad poured all his energy and money into my sister. Meanwhile, no matter what I needed, he’d wave me off impatiently: “You’re your mother’s responsibility. Go ask her.” But my mother had a different philosophy: “You and your sister are both my children. Whatever I give to you, I must also give to her…” After college started, Mom only gave me a few hundred dollars a month for living expenses. If I asked for more, she’d say it was to teach me independence. I drank water to fill my stomach and skipped classes to work part-time jobs. But it still wasn’t enough. Just as I was crying over my inability to pay exam fees, I saw my sister’s Instagram post. It was her Sweet 16. Dad gifted her a month-long trip to Europe. Mom bought her a stunning gold bracelet. I stared at the receipt visible in the photo. It clearly read $980. This month, Mom had only given me $100. 1 My sister’s glamorous life stung my eyes. In a fit of rage, I called my mom and demanded: “Why did you buy her a $980 bracelet when you only gave me $100 to live on?” “Do you have any idea how hard it is to survive on a hundred bucks in college?” I was furious. I unleashed all my firepower on my mother: “You’d rather I starve for four months and work myself to death…” “Than buy a slightly cheaper gift for your precious little daughter?” “How can there be a mother like you in this world…” Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I clutched the phone and wailed. I was so tired. To save up for living expenses, I delivered food on campus, climbing stairs while everyone else napped. Often, my hands and feet would tremble involuntarily when I lay down to sleep. I never dared to go to roommate gatherings. Even spending twenty dollars meant skipping meals for a week. I was studying pre-med, a major my mom loved, which required constantly buying materials and paying exam fees. I had zero leisure time. Even study time had to be squeezed out. To save money and time, I survived on “human feed”—cheap, bulk protein powder shakes. I thought I was being considerate of my mom. But she casually dropped nearly a thousand dollars just to give my sister a meaningless accessory. I cried and screamed. But my mom just sounded helpless: “What can I do? You’re both my flesh and blood. I can’t just care for you and ignore her!” “You grew up with me; I barely raised her!” “It’s her sixteenth birthday. I sent her a gift, and you’re going to hold that against me?” She spoke righteously, the picture of a good mother. But I wasn’t accepting her pity party anymore. “Send a gift if you want, but why so expensive?” “She lives with Dad! She doesn’t lack anything!” Resentment filled my voice: “Dad said each of you takes care of one…” Before I could finish screaming, my mom shouted back: “Your dad is a deadbeat father, so you want me to be a deadbeat mother too?” “You’re both my children. Why should I raise one and abandon the other?” “You ungrateful girl, how can you be so vicious?” “If I had known, I would have taken your sister and left you behind.” My unwillingness and resentment exploded with that sentence: “Who begged you to take me? Dad originally wanted me!” “It was you! You left my sister with Dad to live the good life and dragged me along to suffer with you!” 2 I’m two years older than my sister, Chloe. When our parents separated, I was ten, and she was eight. Dad thought I was older and easier to manage, so he wanted to take me. Mom originally wanted to take Chloe because she was cute, sweet, and clingy. But my grandma stopped her, scolding: “How can you work if you take the little one?” “The older one is sensible. She can help you with chores and work.” “The little one is spoiled. She can’t handle a hard life with you.” That’s why Mom “reluctantly” chose me. At the time, although sad, I calmly accepted moving from a big house to a tiny apartment. I thought even if I lived with Mom, Dad would still care for me. But no. Dad cut off my allowance, tutoring, and extracurriculars. He said: “Your mom and I each take one. If you need something, ask your mom!” “Isn’t she so tough, demanding equality with me? Why are you asking me for money?” He humiliated my mom completely. For her sake, I never asked him for a dime again! Living with Mom, I took over the chores and cooking so she wouldn’t worry. To save money, we ate cabbage and turnips every meal. I didn’t cry or fuss. In the summer, when temperatures hit 100 degrees and our tiny apartment had no AC because we couldn’t afford electricity, I stayed awake all night from the heat. I accepted all of it. But it turned out she had money. She just saved half of it for Chloe. Chloe already had a full glass of water. But Mom, ignoring that I was dying of thirst, insisted on “fairness” and would only give me her half-glass. What kind of laughable fairness is this? I cussed my mom out. I called her a saboteur, ruining my childhood and college life. I called her delusional and shameless: “You think you deserve to talk equality with Dad?” “How much does he make a month? How much do you make?” “My sister lives like a princess, while I live like a maid with you. Don’t you have a clue?” I blocked her and posted on social media, vowing to cut ties. Any relative who dared to persuade me got blocked instantly. I also applied to drop out of school. I was starving; I couldn’t afford this education! The news of me dropping out to work soon reached my dad’s ears. He called. I blocked him too. He didn’t care about me, so why keep his number? My professors tried to keep me, so I agreed to “think about it” and took a week off. But I turned around, packed my bags, and found a place to shake boba tea. Who wanted to go to that crappy college anyway? The one who wanted to be a doctor wasn’t me! 3 My uncle and aunt from my mom’s side came to find me, urging me to go back to school. They “apologized” on behalf of my mom: “We scolded her. She knows she was wrong.” “In the future, before buying things for your sister, she’ll make sure you’re fed first.” I just sneered: “She keeps screaming about fairness. Why doesn’t she provide me with the life my sister has?” “We came out of the same womb. Why is my life so cheap?” “Dad originally wanted to choose me…” Thinking of this, I hated my mom’s betrayal even more. I chose her. I gave the good life to Chloe. But she took it for granted, feeling that because Chloe was with Dad and rarely seen, only Chloe was owed anything. I refused to go back to school and even dropped a harsh line: “When my mom dies and my dad lets me live the good life with him…” “Or at least when I don’t have to deliver food on an empty stomach, I’ll go back to college.” I made it clear I was going to be an unfilial wretch. I heard my mom cried hysterically when she heard that. I didn’t care. I cared about her so much before; did she care about me? If she had just given me enough money to eat before buying expensive gifts for Chloe, I wouldn’t hate her this much. Chloe found out and actually came to the boba shop to confront me: “How can you say that about Mom?” “Do you know how much I envy living with Mom?” Seeing her righteous indignation, I grinned: “Then let’s switch?” “From now on, I’ll go be a princess with Dad.” “You go do chores for Mom and be her emotional trash can.” Chloe’s face stiffened instantly: “This, this…” She didn’t dare, nor did she want to give up her pampered life. I rolled my eyes and ignored her without hesitation. She rambled for a long time before finally saying: “Grandma and Grandpa want you to come home for dinner tonight.” That was what I wanted to hear. That night, I went back to my dad’s side. My dad just didn’t give me money. But he let me eat there and stay there. Sometimes, Grandma and Grandpa would call me over for a good meal. Then at the dinner table, they’d talk about me persuading Mom to come back. Before, I respected my mom and refused to help. But now, I chewed on my chopsticks and said directly: “Mom and Dad have been separated for so many years. Dragging it out isn’t a solution.” “Either divorce or end the separation.” Grandma quickly said: “Exactly.” “Talk to your mom.” I chuckled: “Chloe should be the one to say this!” “She’s Mom’s precious darling. Mom would rather starve me than miss her birthday gift.” “Mom will listen to whatever she says.” “But Mom won’t listen to a word I say.” I had made such a scene recently. Who didn’t know why I cut ties with my mom? My words made Chloe look like she was about to cry. Dad slammed the table in rage: “Stop with the sarcasm!” “Your mom starving you is because she’s sick in the head. What does it have to do with your sister?” “Besides, I didn’t give you money because your mom was screaming about equality and fairness first. Didn’t you support her?” “Your mom and I each take care of one kid. Chloe will take care of me when I’m old, and you take care of your mom. Isn’t that great?” “Even if I gave you money, you wouldn’t be grateful. You’ve always sided with your mom. When you’re old, you’ll definitely take care of her.” “I might as well focus on your sister…” He spoke with such conviction, as if it made perfect sense. He felt that whoever raised the child gets the care in old age. He didn’t give me money, but he didn’t expect me to care for him either. If I wanted to blame someone, I had to blame my mom! But… “The logic is fair.” “But what about feelings?” I looked at him and asked: “Just because I went with Mom, I’m not your daughter anymore?” “You buy Chloe new phones, bags, luxury goods whenever.” “Have you ever thought that if you even sent me a $20 red envelope occasionally, I could work 20 fewer hours?” 4 I was resentful. If my parents had actually divorced, I might not have been so bitter. After all, divorced couples usually don’t want to support the child living with the ex. But my parents weren’t divorced. They just separated because of some conflicts. The conflict was simply that my mom wanted a life where the couple shared chores and decisions equally. My dad felt that since he made big money doing business outside… Why couldn’t he rest at home? Why did he have to do chores? He had money; he could just hire a maid. But my mom exploded. She felt my dad looked down on her, etc. It was a huge fight back then, and my dad said some really nasty things. So, a small matter turned into a big one. And I stood by my mom’s side without hesitation. But really, if they had decided to separate long ago, why not divorce? Why just separate? Why make me live like a fatherless child? What I wanted to know most was: “If Chloe had gone with Mom back then, Dad, would you have ignored her like this?”

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During a game of Truth or Dare, I asked my boyfriend: “If you met a girl who was younger than me and liked you, what would you do?” My boyfriend glanced down at the underclassman sitting next to him and answered without hesitation: “What do you think? I’d obviously choose the younger one.” “Why are you asking me this all of a sudden? Did you really think I’d choose you?” “Chloe, people need to know their place.” After he said that, he smiled and wrapped his arm around the underclassman’s waist. I didn’t respond. I just thoughtfully looked at his young, successful best friend sitting behind him. Because just moments ago, that very friend had confessed his feelings to me. His messages were still on my phone screen: [Have you thought about it?] [Why aren’t you saying anything?] [Chloe, am I really not as good as him?] 1. The pointer of the spin-the-wheel game stopped in front of my boyfriend. He chose “Truth.” As the person with the most points, I had the right to ask the question. Driven by some inexplicable impulse, I looked up at Julian, who was acting ambiguously close to the underclassman: “If you met a girl who was younger than me and liked you, what would you do?” The moment the words left my mouth, the entire room went silent. Everyone seemed eager to hear his answer. After all, lately, Julian had been taking Mia, a direct underclassman from his major, everywhere he went, using his status as her senior as an excuse. It made his intentions hard to read. Julian slowly lifted his eyelids, looking straight at me. His voice, slightly slurred from the alcohol, sounded exceptionally gentle: “Chloe.” “Do you even need to ask that?” I felt a wave of embarrassment. He was my boyfriend of three years, yet I found myself needing to ask a question that shouldn’t even have another option. But the next second, he let out a mocking scoff: “Of course I’d choose the younger one.” “Chloe, people need to know their place.” The gazes of the people around us shifted to me, filled with a mix of pity and contempt. Julian and I had been together for three years. He pursued me for over six months. Back then, he had nothing, but I stayed by his side anyway. Let alone the fact that a year ago, the wealthy Vance family had finally found him, turning him into a famous, wealthy heir in the city overnight. Everyone was waiting for my anger or my silent endurance. Instead, all I could think about was three days ago. I had acute gastroenteritis and called Julian, crying. He told me I was being too delicate, that it was just gastroenteritis, and it wasn’t my first time having it. Later, his best friend, Ethan, took me to the hospital. While I was there, I saw Julian taking care of Mia, who was suffering from menstrual cramps. During the six months he pursued me, he would stand under an umbrella in the rain, tilting it entirely toward me while half of his own shoulder got soaked. He used to smile and say, “Chloe, I will always treat you so well.” After three years of dating, in this very moment, Julian completely rotted away in my heart. 2. Seeing my expression, Julian frowned slightly. He reached out and grabbed my hand: “It’s just a game, Chloe.” “Is it really that hard to hear?” “If you chose someone younger, I wouldn’t be mad.” I blinked. “Really?” The corners of Julian’s mouth curled up slightly. “Of course.” I looked down, thoughtfully gazing at my phone vibrating in my palm: [Have you thought about it?] [Why aren’t you saying anything?] [Baby, am I really not as good as him?] I looked up and saw the elegant, refined man standing behind Julian. His burning gaze was fixed on me. That was Julian’s roommate of three years, and his best friend. Just moments ago, he had confessed his feelings to me. My face flushed red. I couldn’t even imagine someone like him calling me “baby.” Looking back up, I said softly: “Then let’s break up.” “I choose someone younger too.” Julian scoffed, looking at me like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “Sure.” “Do you have someone in mind? Need me to introduce you to someone?” Looking into Ethan’s slightly shining eyes, I shook my head: “No need.” Julian clearly didn’t take my words seriously and went back to playing the game with the others. Only Ethan, sitting opposite me, stared at me with burning intensity. My phone vibrated again: [Baby, so good.] Me: … I was starting to regret this. In my mind, even though Ethan was the youngest in Julian’s dorm, he was the definition of an untouchable, aloof ‘ice prince.’ I didn’t expect him to be like this on the inside. The tips of my ears instinctively turned red, and I got up to go to the restroom. When I came out, Ethan was leaning against the wall in the hallway. Seeing me, he immediately pulled out a tissue and meticulously dried my wet hands. … “Baby, I’ll take you home later.” His voice was low, raspy, and magnetic. Saying things like that didn’t feel out of character for him; it just added an intense aura of desire. My ears tingled, and I nodded instinctively. I let him hold my hand as we walked back to the private room. But as soon as we stepped inside, I snapped back to reality and pulled my hand free. When I looked up, I caught a fleeting glimpse of hurt in his eyes. 3. Seeing Ethan and me return together, Julian didn’t think much of it. He just stood up and grabbed his jacket: “Let’s go.” I noticed his lips were wet. I glanced at Mia. Yep, hers were wet too. Without a doubt, that “Dare” must have been very exciting. On the way back, Mia familiarly slid into the passenger seat of Julian’s car. “Mia gets carsick, so you sit in the back.” I shook my head: “No need, I’ll ride in Ethan’s car.” For the past month, Julian had been extremely “busy.” Whenever I looked for him, he would impatiently tell Ethan to keep me company. So this time, Julian didn’t overthink it either. He just let out a cold laugh: “Chloe, Ethan only kept you company before as a favor to me.” “How can you keep bothering Ethan? He’s a slight germaphobe and hates people riding in his car. It’s hard to catch a cab here, so be reasonable.” Ethan looked at me with deep, dark eyes: “It’s fine. She’s the exception.” Julian’s face turned ugly. He didn’t look at me again and drove off. 4. On the ride back, I didn’t dare look at Ethan. I could only aimlessly stare at the steering wheel. But then I saw his long, pale fingers. The defined knuckles. I swallowed hard. Hitting a red light, Ethan stopped the car and handed me a bottle of water: “Thirsty?” I shook my head, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment. I didn’t dare tell him I had a thing for hands. He chuckled softly, put the water bottle down, and took a sip of sparkling water himself. When he tilted his chin up slightly, his sharp, clean jawline was perfectly defined. My gaze was drawn to him again. His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. He reached out and covered my eyes: “Chloe, don’t tempt me. We’re moving too fast.” I hurriedly explained: “I just wanted to taste what it’s like.” He suddenly turned right, parking the car by the side of an empty park. He cupped the back of my head and kissed me. At first, he held back, keeping it light and tentative. But when his slightly heavy breathing brushed against my cheek, I instinctively parted my lips. His breathing hitched, and then he began to passionately plunder. A long time passed before he finally let me go. His gaze landed on my lips, his voice husky: “Have you tasted it now?” I didn’t dare look at his slightly red, incredibly sensual, thin lips. I turned my face away to avoid his gaze. I noticed the sparkling water had spilled onto the leather seat, leaving a wet patch. “The seat got dirty.” I remembered Julian saying Ethan was a slight germaphobe. He pulled out a tissue and reached over to wipe it: “It’s fine. Chloe can get anything dirty she wants.” We hadn’t even done anything, it was just a kiss. But the atmosphere felt overwhelmingly romantic and intimate. … 5. On the way back, Julian called me several times. I didn’t answer any of them. On the final call, I regretfully told him: [If I had known your best friend was this handsome…] [I wouldn’t have bothered dating you in the first place.] [The way he calls me ‘Chloe’ makes my heart ache for him.] Him: [?] I didn’t wait for his reply; I just hung up. And blocked all of his contact information. … Ethan parked the car right in front of my dorm building. The Vance family had donated 50 million to the university, so he naturally had some privileges. Once the car stopped, I instinctively pulled the handle to get out. It wouldn’t open. Ethan saw the surprise in my eyes but didn’t explain. He just leaned in close to my nose, his voice magnetic and raspy: “Baby, does it really make your heart ache when I call your name?” The tips of my ears burned. I didn’t know how to explain. Ethan curled his lips into a smile, as if he understood something. “So this is how baby likes to play.” The car doors unlocked. I scrambled out and ran toward the dorm building. Ethan grabbed my hand and pinned me against the wall. “Chloe, I feel so uncomfortable.” I definitely felt it. He seemed… a little restless. Remembering his broad shoulders, I sighed. Those few drinks at the club seemed to be hitting my head right now. My mind went foggy. I reached out and patted it. “Be a good boy.” Ethan let out a soft laugh and bit my earlobe: “You really do have a soft spot for younger guys, don’t you?” Me: … Can’t you just talk normally? How did I never realize he was such a flirt? The dorm matron, walking out in her pajamas, sneered: “You young people sure know how to have fun.” “Three minutes until curfew.” I immediately pushed Ethan away and sprinted inside. 6. When Julian got hung up on by Chloe, he and Mia were dining at a Michelin-starred romantic restaurant. Mia said she wanted black truffle steak, so he brought her here. She smiled and asked him: “How did you know about this place?” “Did you bring Chloe here before?” He shook his head. “A friend recommended it.” Thinking about it… In their three years of dating, he had never brought Chloe to a place like this. He was an orphan, and his college tuition was barely covered by financial aid. To survive, he took on three part-time jobs starting his freshman year. That was when he fell in love with Chloe at first sight. She was a freshman just like him. On the first day of orientation, Chloe’s picture was posted on the university’s confession page. Everyone saw her delicate, beautiful face, and so did he. In almost an instant, he fell for her. At that time, he was insecure and poor. But when he saw her wearing faded, washed-out jeans, he only felt a sense of relief. Later, he pursued Chloe for over six months. After they got together, he continued working his part-time jobs. During a heavy winter snowstorm, when he walked out of the western restaurant where he worked, Chloe was standing at the door holding an umbrella, waiting for him to get off work. Later, the Vance family found him and brought him back. But he never brought Chloe to a restaurant like this. Subconsciously, he felt that since Chloe had eaten street food and cheap diners with him for three years, it didn’t really matter if they came to a place like this. But instinctively, he brought Mia here. Besides the fact that he was no longer short on money, the more important reason was that the niche designer dresses Mia wore weren’t suited for street food stalls. Remembering Chloe’s words… He felt a sudden, inexplicable panic. Mia, sitting across from him, noticed and comforted him: “She’s probably just still angry and saying things to make you mad.” He thought about it and agreed. He knew exactly what kind of person Chloe was—pure and conservative. There was absolutely no way she would ever do anything with his best friend. But what was that momentary panic? He couldn’t explain it. “Should we go find her and explain things right now?” Feeling irritated, he looked out at the rain: “No need. Let her be.” He knew Chloe’s family situation better than anyone. A child of divorce, with both parents remarried to other people. She had no home, which made her exceptionally terrified of loss. She needed security more than anyone else. Without him, she had nowhere to go. He was absolutely certain that within seven days, Chloe would come looking for him with red, tearful eyes. Thinking of this, his panicked heart settled down. 7. When Julian returned to the dorm, the others were already asleep. Only Ethan was still sitting at his computer, reviewing the latest government bidding projects. He knew Ethan had recently started a company, but he didn’t pay it much mind. After all, with their family backgrounds, most of them only had two paths after graduation: return to the family business or start their own. Whichever path they chose, with their families backing them up, they couldn’t fall too hard. He didn’t understand why someone like Ethan, the only heir to a massive conglomerate, would want to start his own business instead of taking the easy route of inheriting his family’s empire. But it wasn’t his place to say anything. Seeing Ethan in the dorm made him breathe a sigh of relief. When Ethan saw him, he instinctively furrowed his brow. Julian realized that Ethan was a germaphobe, and the cloying, sweet women’s perfume on his own clothes was indeed quite pungent. Feeling slightly guilty, he pinched his nose. After all, his roommates all knew Chloe. She never wore this kind of perfume. And although Ethan was always very cold towards Chloe whenever he saw her, he had still known her for three years. Knowing Ethan wasn’t the type to gossip, Julian relaxed. The next second, he grabbed his clothes and headed to the bathroom. When he came back out, he saw Ethan on the balcony, talking to a girl on the phone. His voice was low and deep: “Baby, what are you doing right now?” It was the first time Julian had ever seen the usually aloof “ice prince” Ethan show an expression like this. In the quiet night, the girl’s soft, clear voice came through the receiver exceptionally clearly: “I’m taking a shower.” The girl’s voice was accompanied by the sound of running water. He couldn’t hear it very clearly. He only saw Ethan’s Adam’s apple bob slightly. When Ethan saw him, he immediately adopted a coaxing tone and said: “Baby, text me after you’re done showering, okay?” “It’s a little… inconvenient right now.” The other side murmured an agreement, and the call ended. Julian looked at Ethan, knowing this was just male possessiveness acting up, and didn’t say much. Honestly, through the screen, what could he even see anyway? But it did show that Ethan cared deeply about this girl. Julian asked casually: “Got a girlfriend? Is this the girl you’ve been texting every day recently?” “Could it be that girl you’ve had a crush on for three years?” Ethan sat back down at his laptop and gave an affirmative “Mhm.” Seeing that Ethan didn’t want to elaborate on his relationship with the girl, Julian didn’t press the issue. After all, the whole dorm knew Ethan had a girl he’d been secretly in love with for three years. From the looks of it, he had finally gotten what he wanted. Then, he suddenly remembered Chloe saying his best friend was more handsome than him. He had panicked a little at the time. But thinking about it now, Ethan was the only one in the dorm more handsome than him. And Ethan was already with the girl he’d loved for three years. This made him even more certain that Chloe was just throwing a tantrum. Julian let out a breath of relief. Remembering Chloe’s words, he still felt a surge of anger. He decided to give her the cold shoulder for a while. He needed to teach her a lesson.

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I had booked the flights and the resort weeks ago, a meticulously planned escape to Hawaii for the holidays. It was supposed to be a gift—a gesture of goodwill to my boyfriend’s parents. “Sure thing.” I took the phone, my smile practiced and terrifyingly docile. Right there, in front of everyone, I tapped the phone to pay the additional baggage fees. As the distinct ping of the transaction echoed, I met his mother’s satisfied gaze. My voice was soft, barely a whisper. “Have a wonderful trip, Pamela. The bill always comes due eventually.” 1 I stood at the curb of the International Terminal, gripping the handle of my Tumi suitcase, staring at the crowd in front of me. for a second, I thought the jet lag from a previous business trip was making me hallucinate. My boyfriend, Miles, wasn’t just standing with his parents. He was surrounded. There was a mob. A literal mob of people. Men, women, children, hauling duffel bags and chaotic luggage. I counted. Including Miles’s parents, there were thirteen people. A dull throb began behind my temples. “Hi, everyone. Um… who is this?” I set down my bag, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Harper! You made it!” Pamela, Miles’s mother, lunged forward and grabbed my hand with aggressive affection. “Surprise! These are the cousins and the aunties. We heard you were treating us to a Hawaiian getaway for the holidays, and everyone just wanted to come along for the fun. Isn’t that wonderful?” My gaze sliced through the crowd to find Miles. He was staring at his sneakers, aggressively picking at the edge of his boarding pass. The air around us grew heavy, suffocating. Aunt Linda, a woman I had met once and who had criticized my shoes, chimed in with a voice like grating metal. “Oh, look at her face. Harper doesn’t look very happy to see us. Miles said you were generous. He said family was ‘no problem.’” Seeing my hesitation, Pamela immediately whipped out her phone, pulled up a flight itinerary, and shoved the screen in my face. “Don’t worry, Harper, honey. I already booked their tickets to make it easy. You just need to Venmo me the total.” Six thousand dollars. Ten tickets. All upgraded Economy Plus. I had suggested the Hawaii trip. I had offered to cover the flights and the hotel for his parents. It was my Christmas gift to them, a peace offering. I did not expect a family reunion. And the implication was clear: I was the bank. “Miles,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “Did you know about this?” “Harper, don’t be like that.” Pamela’s smile stretched tight across her face, eyes crinkling but cold. “We’re family! The more the merrier. You make that big executive salary; this is just pocket change to you, right? Besides, the cousins rarely get to travel. As a future daughter-in-law, showing a little appreciation is just… expected.” The relatives swarmed closer, a chorus of pressure: “Exactly, Harper is a VP at that tech firm, she’s loaded!” “I’ve always wanted to see Maui.” “Miles is so lucky to snag a sugar mama.” Miles still wouldn’t look at me. He knew. He knew his mother would pull this stunt. He knew I would be blindsided with a bill for thousands of dollars in the middle of a busy terminal. He knew I would be humiliated if I said no. And he said absolutely nothing. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold hand. I remembered when we first started dating. He would have dinner plating when I got home from late nights at the office. He remembered my coffee order. He left a light on for me. He told me he didn’t have much money, that he came from humble beginnings, but he would spend his life making me feel safe. And what had I told him? I told him I didn’t care about his bank account. I told him I was tired of fighting the world alone. I just wanted a partner. I wanted a home. It turns out, the rent on that “home” was higher than I thought. “Harper?” Pamela’s voice snapped me back. Her smile was fraying at the edges, impatience bleeding through. “Hurry up and transfer it. We need to check bags.” I took a deep breath. The Hawaiian air would be sweet, I told myself. “Sure thing.” I took the phone. I smiled, a soft, submissive curve of the lips. And right there, in front of the mob, I paid her. “Attagirl!” Pamela clapped me on the shoulder as the payment confirmed. “That’s the spirit. What’s yours is Miles’s, and what’s Miles’s is ours. That’s how family works. Come on, let’s go.” I didn’t move immediately. “Have a wonderful trip, Pamela. The bill always comes due eventually.” She paused, blinking, not quite catching the subtext. She settled for a dismissive nod. “Right, right. Bills. Come on.” Miles exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding since he parked the car. He sidled up to me, whispering, “Harper, I’m so sorry. I promise, later I’ll…” “Your mom fronted six grand?” I cut him off, staring directly into his evasive eyes. “I know your family’s finances, Miles. Where did she get that kind of cash to front?” Miles’s eyes darted away again. My stomach dropped. “Miles. Tell me the truth. Did she use the emergency card I gave you?” I deposited two thousand dollars a month into that account. It was for him. For emergencies. He was usually so frugal, he rarely touched it. He didn’t answer. Silence is a confession. Fascinating. They used my money to buy the tickets, and now they were asking me to “reimburse” them for the money they stole from me. “Let’s go check in,” I said, turning my back on him. I stared at the departure screen, seeing nothing. Couldn’t say no? No. He didn’t want to say no. Six years. How did I miss this? He was gentle, yes. But he was also a coward. Every time his parents made an insane demand, it was the same script. Apologize to me in private. Say “they’re old fashioned.” Beg me to “keep the peace.” I had kept the peace. His mom wanted a Louis Vuitton for her birthday? I bought it. His dad wanted to host a reunion in the city? I booked the hotel. His cousin needed an internship? I called in favors. Every time, Miles said, “This is the last time.” Every time, he lied. But this time? This time felt different. 2 We landed in Kahului as the sun was beginning to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the tarmac. The heat hit us the moment the automatic doors slid open—thick, humid, smelling of plumeria and jet fuel. At baggage claim, I watched Miles getting ordered around like a pack mule. Pamela stood by the carousel, pointing a manicured finger at heavy Samsonite cases, barking orders. Thirteen people. Twenty-five bags. Miles was sweating through his linen shirt, looking frantic. He shot me a pleading look. I pursed my lips and gave him a cheerful thumbs-up. You got this, babe. The transport I had arranged was waiting: a luxury SUV for four. And, because I adapt quickly, a dusty, third-party shuttle bus for the rest. Pamela took one look and scowled. “Harper, why are there two cars? We should all travel together! It’s a family trip!” I adjusted my sunglasses. “My reservation was for four people, Pamela.” “Well, fix it!” She waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. The elders will take the nice car. You kids take the bus.” Of course. Face comes first. Comfort comes second. I looked at Miles. He hung his head and silently began loading his parents’ luggage into the black Cadillac Escalade I had paid for. On the ride to the hotel, I sat in the back row of the shuttle bus, watching the palm trees blur past. Miles sat next to me. He tried to take my hand. I moved it to check my watch. “Harper, I know you’re mad,” he whispered. “When we get back, I’ll make Mom pay you back.” “Pay me back?” I turned to look at him. “Miles. Do you honestly believe that?” He opened his mouth, then closed it. I let out a dry, short laugh. “You can’t even tell her ‘no’ about a vacation. You think you can make her write a check? You just want me to fix it. Like I always do.” “No, that’s not it, I—” “Miles,” I interrupted. “If this entire trip—every single cent—was being charged to your credit card, right now… how would you feel?” He stared at me, blankly. The concept was so foreign to him it didn’t even register. I turned back to the window. 3 We pulled up to the resort. It was one of those places where the lobby is open-air and the ocean breeze hits you before the staff does. The relatives went feral. Phones out, filming everything, loud voices echoing off the marble. I walked to the front desk. “Hi, checking in. Reservation for Harper Vance.” The receptionist typed rapidly. “Ms. Vance. Welcome back. We have two Oceanfront Premier Suites reserved for five nights. I just need IDs for the other guests.” Pamela shoved her way to the counter. “We have nine more people! We need three more rooms!” The receptionist maintained her professional smile. “Ma’am, it is the holiday peak season. We are fully booked except for the Executive Suites. They are twelve hundred dollars a night.” The silence that followed was heavy. Thirteen pairs of eyes turned to me. I was about to speak when Miles finally tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “Mom, maybe we can just squeeze into the rooms we have…” “Squeeze?” Pamela shook him off like a fly. She turned her high-beam smile on me. “Harper wouldn’t let her family sleep on the floor like refugees, would she?” “Of course not,” I said brightly. “We’ll take the three suites.” Ding. Eighteen thousand dollars. The relatives cheered, grabbing key cards. As Pamela breezed past me toward the elevators, she patted my cheek. “You’re a good girl, Harper. You’re going to make a very trainable wife.” I smiled as the elevator doors closed. Then I turned and looked at Miles. 4 I had barely unpacked my toiletries when Pamela’s message popped up in the newly created “Hawaii Family Fun” group chat. Pamela: 6:30 PM. Hotel Seafood Buffet. Harper is treating! Don’t be late! A cascade of emojis followed. Thanks Harper! So generous! Miles is a lucky guy! I read it. I didn’t reply. Miles sat on the edge of the bed, looking like a man awaiting sentencing. “Harper… about dinner… maybe we should split the bill?” “Split it? Do you think your mother brought her wallet?” He looked at the floor. I grabbed my purse. “Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the family waiting.” When we arrived, they were already seated, napkins in laps, waiting for the credit card to unlock the trough. The holiday buffet price was $125 per person. With drinks and service, we were looking at two grand, easily. Miles leaned in. “Harper, this is too much. Maybe we can go somewhere else…” “Too much?” Pamela’s ears were like radar dishes. “Harper is treating! We have to eat well, or else it looks like we don’t respect her success!” “Pamela is right,” I said. I tapped my phone against the terminal. Paid. The family descended on the food like locusts. Lobster tails, prime rib, oysters—plates piled so high things were falling off the sides. Miles sat next to me, dissecting a prawn with surgical sadness. “Harper, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know it would be like this…” “It’s fine.” I peeled a shrimp and popped it into my mouth. “It’s all going on the card.” “Harper!” Aunt Linda suddenly materialized, sliding into the empty seat next to me. “So, I hear your company is Fortune 500? My Kyle has been out of college for six months and can’t find a thing. You can get him in, right?” “What’s his degree in?” “General Studies. But he’s very smart!” Aunt Linda beamed. “He doesn’t want to start at the bottom, though. He needs something management level. Maybe 80k to start? Full benefits. Remote work only.” I smiled. “Aunt Linda, I work in Biotech. Does he have a background in science?” “Can’t you just pull some strings? You’re a VP!” Her face soured instantly. “Or do you just look down on us?” Heads turned at the neighboring tables. Pamela leaned over. “Harper, help family when you can. It’s what we do.” I looked at Miles. He was staring at his mutilated prawn as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll ask HR when we get back.” Aunt Linda clapped her hands. “See? I knew you were useful! Here, have some melon.” She pushed a half-eaten plate of fruit toward me. I took a sip of my water. 5 Day two. 7:00 AM. The group chat pinged. Pamela: What’s the plan? Harper, you have the itinerary, right? I took my time with my skincare routine. Then I typed: Let’s hit the luxury outlets. At the Shops at Wailea, the family scattered like marbles dropped on a tile floor. “Harper, look at this bag!” Pamela was clutching a Gucci tote. “It’s only three thousand. It’s practically an investment.” My cousin-in-law held up a skincare set. “Harper, this La Mer set is a steal at five hundred!” “I got a watch for my husband,” Aunt Linda shouted. “Only two grand!” They piled it all on the counter. The total came to $18,000. The cashier looked at me. The family looked at me. “Pamela,” I started, “don’t you think…” “Oh, stop,” Aunt Linda interrupted. “You make this in a week. Don’t be stingy. We’re family!” “Right. Family.” I pulled out a credit card. A sleek, black card. I handed it to the cashier. Pamela tried to peek at the name, but I shifted my stance, blocking her view. “Ma’am,” the cashier whispered. “This card was declined.” My expression didn’t change. “Try this one.” I handed her a second card. Blue. Approved. Both cards had Miles’s name on them. In the van on the way back, Pamela was humming, surrounded by shopping bags. Miles leaned over, his voice a harsh whisper. “Harper… how much was that?” “Not bad,” I said, looking at the ocean. “Maybe forty thousand total so far?” He stopped breathing for a solid ten seconds. “That is… that is insane.” “Is it?” I tilted my head. “Your mom is happy. Everyone is happy. That’s what matters.” Pamela piped up from the front seat. “Exactly! Miles, stop being such a penny-pincher. Harper wants to spoil us. It’s her way of showing respect!” Miles opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. I leaned into his ear, whispering, “I put it on your…” “What are you two lovebirds whispering about?” Pamela barked. “Pamela,” I said sweetly. “I was just telling Miles how much I’m looking forward to planning tomorrow.” “Good!” Pamela settled back. “You’re finally learning.” 6 Lunch was at a high-end seafood place overlooking the cliffs. “Lobster for everyone!” “Get the expensive wine!” “King crab legs!” Miles’s dad, Bob, was ordering like a mob boss. I did the mental math. This lunch was going to be two grand. The waiter looked nervous. “Sir, the crab is market price. It’s quite high today.” “Get it! My daughter-in-law is rich!” Pamela waved him off. Miles sat there, shrinking into his chair. The wine flowed. The inhibitions dropped. Uncle Bob, red-faced and loud, pointed a fork at me. “Harper, I gotta say. Thank you. People like us, we don’t get to do this. Miles really lucked out finding a sugar mama like you.” Pamela laughed, a sharp, barking sound. “That’s right! Miles might not make the big bucks yet, but he’s a good man. Loyal. And let’s be honest…” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, though everyone could hear. “Harper isn’t exactly twenty-two anymore. A woman her age needs a young, strong man. She’s lucky he’s willing to settle down.” The table went quiet. I set down my fork. “Mom!” Miles hissed. “Shut up.” “What? Did I lie?” Pamela’s voice rose. “Harper is what, twenty-nine? Thirty next year? That’s the danger zone for women. Miles is twenty-eight. He’s in his prime. If she wasn’t paying, who knows if he’d stick around?” The female cousins giggled. I dabbed my mouth with the linen napkin. “You’re right, Pamela. I am getting older. I know exactly what I want.” I smiled, a shark showing its teeth. “And Miles is very… obedient.” The insult landed. Pamela’s eyes narrowed. She spent the rest of the afternoon punishing me. “Harper, go buy everyone water.” “Harper, take a picture of us. No, lower. Get a better angle.” “Harper, my sandal strap is loose. Fix it.” That last one stopped traffic on the promenade. Pamela stood there, foot extended, smirking. I smiled. I knelt. I tied her shoe into a perfect, tight bow. “There you go, Pamela.” She looked disappointed that I hadn’t fought back. Back at the hotel, Miles pulled me into an alcove near the elevators. “Harper, my mom… she wants to rent a yacht tomorrow. For the day.” He looked sick. “I asked. It’s six thousand dollars.” I looked at him. “Do you want to go?” “I… Harper, I know it’s too much money. But if we say no now, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.” “Okay,” I said. “I’ll book it.” “Harper!” He grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I pulled my hand away. “Go rest, Miles. Big day tomorrow.” I didn’t go to the room. I went to the hotel bar. I ordered a whiskey, neat. I sat in a dark corner booth, listening to the jazz, feeling absolutely nothing. Six years. I thought I had found a sanctuary. I thought his passivity was peace. It wasn’t peace. It was just a vacuum where a spine should be. A few minutes later, Pamela and Miles walked in. They didn’t see me. They sat two booths away. “Mom, seriously? We’ve spent fifty grand in three days!” “So? Does it hurt you?” Pamela scoffed. “Harper makes that in a month or two. To her, this is nothing.” “But—” “No buts! Miles, listen to me. This is your chance. If she takes this? If she swallows this disrespect and keeps paying? That means you own her. That means she’s desperate.” “Mom!” “Don’t ‘Mom’ me. Once you’re married, her money is your money. You need to break her in now. If you don’t assert dominance, she’ll walk all over you. A woman with that much money needs to be reminded of her place.” Snap. That was the sound of the last thread of affection severing in my chest. “She’s damaged goods, Miles. Old. You’re doing her a favor.” I couldn’t hear the rest. The blood rushing in my ears drowned it out. I sat in the dark until they left. The ice in my glass had melted. 7 The next morning, we stood on the dock next to a gleaming, 50-foot catamaran. The captain approached with a clipboard. “Ms. Vance? I need a signature for the rental agreement and liability waiver.” Pamela stepped in front of me. “I’ll sign. I’m the matriarch.” The captain looked at me, confused. I smiled. “Let her sign.” Pamela grabbed the pen, flourishing her signature on the document. She didn’t read the clause that said: Signatory assumes full financial responsibility for any damages incurred to the vessel.

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After the breakup, I got a small black snake tattooed on my hip. That night, I dreamed of a serpent coiling around my arm. It transformed into a man with a lethal smile and a body carved from marble. In the haze of the dream, I wrapped my arms around his waist and called him “husband.” The next day, a high-level executive from the corporate headquarters was fast-tracked to our office. I froze the moment I saw him. His face was a perfect, terrifying match for the man in my dream. While the rest of the team buzzed with excitement, I kept my head down, my face burning as I joined the chorus of greetings. “Welcome, Mr. Blackwood.” Later that afternoon, he cornered me in the breakroom, a playful, knowing glint in his eyes. “Not going to call me ‘husband’ today?” 1 My ex, Harrison, was the golden boy of our university. When we graduated, I landed a steady job, but he said he wanted to pursue his Master’s. As his girlfriend, I did what any supportive partner would do: I stepped up. That “support” lasted three years. For three years, I was the sole breadwinner, paying for his life while he studied. Every time the exam results came out and he fell short of the cutoff, he’d complain about the “unfairly high standards” before looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes, dripping with guilt. “I’m so sorry, babe. I let you down again.” “Just give me one more chance.” Looking at the shattered light in his eyes, I’d always remember him on the debate stage in college—ambitious, brilliant, untouchable. He used to say that a young man’s dreams shouldn’t be shackled by reality; that we had to fight the world to stay true to ourselves. Back then, he radiated a kind of energy that made me feel like anything was possible. That was the version of him I loved. So, I’d grit my teeth and nod. I can work a few more hours, I told myself. I can handle the stress. I lived a life of extreme frugality. I became the office martyr, taking every overtime shift and every thankless task, just to ensure he had a quiet, comfortable environment to study. Whenever he saw me coming home exhausted, he’d stroke my hair. “Once I get into grad school, I’m going to make it all up to you. I’ll give you the life you deserve.” 2 I wanted to believe him. I had fought so hard to get him in the first place. Back in college, I was the one chasing him—bringing him breakfast, running miles beside him at the gym, standing in the rain with an umbrella just to make sure he stayed dry. I loved every second of it. When he finally asked me to be his girlfriend on my birthday, I felt like I’d won the lottery. My roommates used to tease us, saying we were like a couple straight out of a romance novel. I believed them. I thought I was the heroine who had finally won over her cold, brilliant hero. But novels are smart; they end at the wedding or the grand confession. They stop before the credits roll on the mundane, soul-crushing reality of what comes after the “happily ever after.” 3 In the third year, he finally did it. He got into his dream program. The day he received his acceptance letter, I was genuinely ecstatic for him. I was beaming, my heart light for the first time in years. He looked at me and asked, “Are you just happy because you don’t have to support me anymore?” I blinked, the smile faltering. I was happy because his dream had come true—not because of the money. Harrison saw my stunned expression and let out a sharp laugh. “Just kidding. Let’s go get a steak.” I tried to shake off the unease and forced a smile. Later, I realized that people often use “just kidding” as a shield for the truths they’re finally brave enough to say. What followed wasn’t the reward he’d promised. It was the “Slow Fade.” The cold shoulder. The emotional desert. 4 Eventually, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I drove down to his campus and found him walking with a beautiful girl from his cohort—Bridget. He was leaning toward her, his expression softer and more attentive than he’d been with me in years. I confronted him, tears streaming down my face, asking if he’d moved on. Harrison just smiled—that same “ambitious” smile that used to inspire me, but now felt like ice. He told me to go back to work. My tears didn’t move him. He was gentle, but it was the kind of gentleness a surgeon uses before an amputation. “We just aren’t on the same frequency anymore, Elena. You have to understand.” When he was drowning, I was the life raft he clung to. He whispered sweet things to keep me paddling. But now that he’d reached the shore, he didn’t need the raft. He wanted to push it back into the current and watch it sink so he wouldn’t have to be reminded of how wet he’d once been. I wiped my eyes and turned away, my heart hardening. “I loved you, Harrison. But I don’t have to love you.” If he wanted to play games, he could play them with someone else. I might have been a “lover girl,” but I wasn’t an idiot. 5 I spent the walk back to my car cursing his name. I passed a tattoo parlor with a neon sign: REBIRTH STARTS WITH INK. 50% OFF. It was a tacky slogan, but I found myself walking in anyway. Why not? I’d spent three years being the “perfect, supportive partner.” I’d never done anything rebellious. The artist was a rugged guy with a thick beard and a heavy Midwestern accent. “Looking for something special, honey?” He pointed to a classic black rose. I made a face. Too cliché. Then, my eyes caught a flash of something else. A small black snake. It was elegant, mysterious, and looked dangerous in a quiet way. “I want that. On my hip.” The artist looked at me, surprised, then shrugged. “Bold choice. Let’s do it.” 6 I walked out an hour later, the skin on my hip throbbing with a dull, radiating heat. That same afternoon, I quit my dead-end job and sent my resume to Summit Media, the biggest firm in the city. By evening, a chill set in. My body felt like it was humming with a fever. I crawled into bed, exhausted from the crying and the adrenaline, and fell into a deep, heavy sleep. In the haze, I felt someone sitting on the edge of my bed. A man. “So foolish…” he whispered. It sounded like a sigh of exasperation, or maybe… heartbreak. I looked up and saw a face like something out of a dream—sharp, ethereal, hauntingly familiar yet completely unknown. Driven by some primal instinct, I whispered, “Husband…” I reached out and pulled him toward me, crying into his chest. The next morning, I woke up feeling like a total lunatic. Clearly, I’m more traumatized by the breakup than I thought, I told myself. It was just a dream. Then, the luck started. My resume didn’t just get a look; I got an interview. Then, I got the job. Summit Media. A Fortune 500 company. I threw myself into the work. I worked hard for three months, ignoring the lingering headaches and the weirdly vivid dreams, until… “What’s the gossip today?” I asked, stirring my coffee in the breakroom. My coworker, Sarah, leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. “Didn’t you hear? The new Managing Director from HQ is here today. Rumor has it, he’s a total smoke-show.” I was half-listening until the elevator doors opened. A man in a charcoal-grey suit stepped out, followed by a phalanx of executives. I nearly dropped my mug. That face. It was him. The “husband” from my fever dream. The man with the washboard abs and the voice like velvet. Life is a cruel, cosmic joke. I ducked my head, my face turning a violent shade of red, trying to disappear into the carpet as we all chimed in, “Welcome, Mr. Blackwood.” Dominic Blackwood didn’t acknowledge me specifically. He just gave a curt nod, offered a few corporate platitudes, and walked toward the corner office without a second glance. But that night, he was back in my dreams. He pinned me against the wall of a darkened hallway, his lips inches from my ear, his voice a low, teasing vibration. “Why didn’t you call me ‘husband’ today?”

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At three in the morning, hearing that Ryder Anderson was having an episode, I rushed over without a moment’s hesitation. But I was stopped by his friends at the private room door. The thin door couldn’t conceal the intimate sounds from within. Seeing me frozen in place, the men’s faces flushed red, and they awkwardly scratched their heads. “Sister-in-law, you know, when Ryder has an episode, he doesn’t recognize anyone. This isn’t the first or second time. Please understand, he doesn’t mean it.” “That’s right, sister-in-law, everyone knows Ryder loves you to death. He’s the one suffering the most from this…” I lowered my head, staring at my raw, bruised palms. It felt as if a large hole had been torn in my heart. I thought, if we were both in such agony, why should Ryder and I continue to cling to each other, tormenting ourselves? … Everyone else left. Only I remained, self-flagellating, curled in a corner, listening as the sounds from within gradually ceased. Ryder emerged. He crouched down and held me. Like a small dog drenched in rain, he trembled, apologizing repeatedly. “Evelyn, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” “You know, I can’t control it… Please forgive me, forgive me, okay…?” His kisses on my neck were cold and clammy, carrying the familiar scent of that perfume. I bit my lower lip until it was raw to keep myself from losing composure then and there. A woman limped out of the private room. Before she could even approach, Ryder frowned in annoyance, as if she were some repulsive trash. “Get away! Don’t come near me!” Chloe Knight scoffed dismissively. She fished a pink lace thong from Ryder’s pocket. “I’m just retrieving my things.” It was still damp with disgusting fluid, showing how intensely they had just been entwined. Yet, the woman’s words carried a rare clarity, as if deliberately drawing a line. “Mr. Anderson, don’t assume all women in the world are out to get you.” “In my eyes, you’re just my patient, and our relationship is limited to that.” With that, she left without hesitation. Ryder’s jaw was tightly clenched. He stared intently at her retreating figure, a focus he himself didn’t notice. His grip on my waist even loosened slightly, though it still hurt. Ryder cursed under his breath. “Damn it, what a pain in the ass!” Then he couldn’t resist letting go of me and chasing after Chloe. My nose stung, and I called out to him, my voice trembling. Ryder stopped, looked back at me, and hesitated. “There are hardly any surveillance cameras around here. Chloe Knight is out alone; it’s too dangerous.” “Evelyn, wait for me. I’ll be right back.” I stood there, stunned. I didn’t know how many times Ryder had left me alone. He was afraid Chloe would be in danger, but I had come here alone too. There weren’t even any streetlights on the way, and I had encountered several groups of rowdy hooligans who whistled at me. Why didn’t he worry about me, or ask if I was afraid? My face felt cold. It was tears, I realized, that I hadn’t known when I’d shed. The sky began to lighten, a pale fish-belly white, but Ryder never returned. Instead, Chloe posted something on social media. The photo showed messy bedsheets, and layers of hickeys on her body that wouldn’t fade. “Told my patient countless times not to be so rough. Do I not have to go out and face people?” Chloe always referred to Ryder as her patient, as if this would maintain their innocent doctor-patient relationship. But eight out of ten of her posts were related to Ryder. There was even a photo specifically showing their matching toothbrushes, bath towels, and pajamas, all couple’s items. “My patient insisted on buying these when we went grocery shopping, and forbade me from making fun of his taste. So bossy.” An uninformed person would think that she and Ryder were the couple. And I, his official girlfriend, could only secretly watch from the sidelines. Ryder drifted between two women, doing things I couldn’t bear. Could I blame him? No, I could only blame myself. Because I was the one who made him this way. Being loved by Ryder was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to me, from childhood until now. The moment I graduated high school, I accepted his confession and became the envy of every girl in school. That day, many people celebrated with us, but on the way, I was abducted by three or four burly men. They bound my hands behind my back, shoved me into the back seat of a van, men gripped my waist, forcefully spread my legs, and ripped my dress. Just when I was most desperate, Ryder appeared and saved me. He fought with the kidnappers, throwing himself into the fray as if he had no regard for his own life, blocking everyone and using his own blood to carve a path for me to escape. Even now, I remember the young man’s face, drenched in blood. He clutched one of the kidnapper’s legs desperately, taking several kicks, his usually upright back bent. Yet, he wouldn’t let go, just so I could run a little further. I was rescued by passersby, but Ryder was nowhere to be found. He was finally located in an abandoned warehouse. At that time, he was covered in wounds, his clothes blood-red, and he spent fifteen hours in the ICU before he was out of danger. After that, he developed severe psychological illnesses. Bipolar disorder, PTSD, mania… a slew of medical terms, some I understood, some I didn’t, weighed heavily upon us like mountains. Ryder became volatile, irritable, hysterical. Once his condition flared up, he became unrecognizable. There was even one time he laid hands on me. Along with his illness, extreme passion erupted. He pinned me down and tormented me for three days and three nights. By the time he regained consciousness, I was practically a ragdoll. There wasn’t a single unbruised spot on my body. Ryder loved me, valued me, cherished me. He held me dearer than his own life. Seeing this, he completely broke down, frantically slapping himself. He apologized to me countless times. He tried to break up with me, but he looked as desperate as if he were ending his own life. “Evelyn, I can’t control myself; I only hurt you.” “You shouldn’t… shouldn’t be burdened by a patient like me.” “Let’s break up. You… deserve better.” His tears scalded my palm. How could I possibly abandon him at a time like that? Chloe Knight appeared then, confidently proclaiming she could cure Ryder’s illness. I believed her. Their first transgression happened two years ago. Chloe’s lower body was torn, her injuries more severe than mine had been. Ryder couldn’t accept his loss of control and slashed his wrists in the bathroom. It was I who held him, telling him I didn’t mind, that reignited his will to live. After the first time, there was a second. Countless times thereafter, it became routine. Ryder couldn’t bear to be rough with me; whenever his illness flared up, he’d seek out Chloe. Chloe was like a soft sponge, absorbing all his irritability and bad temper. I, however, seemed to be a catalyst for his illness; as soon as I got close to him, it would remind him of that accident. Memories of the past were like sugar-coated glass, chewed to pieces for that speck of sweetness. It wasn’t until evening that Ryder returned. As soon as he walked in, he eagerly embraced me, apologizing softly. “I’m sorry, Evelyn, I had another episode. It took a long time to regain consciousness.” My silence made Ryder think I was still angry. He paused, then his fingers traced my shoulder strap, pinning me beneath him. The light was dim. But I still saw the forced effort and impatience in his eyes. My heart constricted. Just as I was about to refuse, Ryder reacted violently, pushing me away. My knee hit a sharp edge, instantly gushing blood. Ryder clutched his head, his face contorted in pain, howling at me to stay away from him. I thought he was afraid of losing control and hurting me, but then I heard him repeatedly muttering Chloe’s pet name. “Chloe, where is Chloe?” His pupils were bloodshot, and he glared at me with hatred, as if I were the enemy separating him from Chloe. “Is it you? Did you hide Chloe?!” Ryder’s words were like a sharp dagger thrust into my chest, making every breath explode with piercing pain. Chloe, who had rushed over, shoved me aside and gently comforted Ryder in her arms. Miraculously, Ryder slowly calmed down. “Evelyn Davies!” Chloe fiercely accused me. “How many times have I told you, Ryder is a patient, he can’t handle any provocation!” “The two of us have a proper doctor-patient relationship, it’s not as sordid as you think! All these years, it’s because of your unfounded jealousy that Ryder’s condition hasn’t improved!” “Do you have to kill him to be satisfied?!” The surrounding servants also whispered amongst themselves. “If it weren’t for Miss Davies, the young master wouldn’t have gotten this strange illness. This illness is tormenting enough, and Miss Davies keeps going against him, disturbing the peace of this house.” “If you ask me, Dr. Knight is more sensible, gentler, and more compatible with the young master.” A maid glanced at me, her meaning clear. “Looking at how the young master holds Dr. Knight like a treasure, the one truly in his heart is probably someone else.” “Someone’s dream of soaring to become a phoenix is probably going to fall through!” The servants’ snide remarks made my face flush then pale. And Ryder, having regained consciousness, didn’t utter a single word in my defense. He merely clung dependently to Chloe, as if Chloe was the beloved he cherished. My tears instantly welled up. I couldn’t believe he would be so cold towards me, and instinctively called out his name. Chloe quickly covered Ryder’s ears, frowning as she yelled at me. “Evelyn Davies, Ryder just got a little better, and you’re provoking him again!” “If you have any conscience, leave quickly! You’re not welcome here!” “Mrs. Henderson!” Chloe ordered her. “Get her out! Don’t let her cause a scene here!” Ryder’s indulgence was acquiescence. The servants were skilled at assessing the situation. Mrs. Henderson, who had always been respectfully polite to me, now had a cold face. She gripped my wrist tightly, dragging me out. Outside, it was freezing. They didn’t even leave me a jacket. I shivered, refusing to give up, and stood outside the door, only to see Ryder pressing Chloe against himself, eagerly kissing her lips. Chloe’s tone was mocking. “Mr. Anderson, Evelyn Davies is right outside watching. Are you sure you want to… with me right now?” His response was the man’s urgent thrusts and heavy breathing. “Damn it, let her watch if she wants. Who cares about her!” My heart instantly turned cold. I wandered aimlessly onto the street, eventually finding myself outside a jewelry store. There, a brilliant diamond ring was kept. It was an engagement gift from my mother before she passed away. I wanted to retrieve it, but the staff informed me that the ring had been taken by Ryder a year ago. “But that’s a keepsake my mother left for me. How could you just…” The sales associate, maintaining a polite, distant smile, interrupted me. “I apologize, Miss Davies, but we only recognize the deposit slip here.” “Mr. Anderson presented the deposit slip to retrieve it, which is perfectly reasonable and compliant. Furthermore, he informed us it was a gift for his girlfriend…” The associate paused, her voice tinged with pity. “He was accompanied by a Miss Knight. If you have any questions, perhaps you should ask Mr. Anderson?”

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1 The second time I met my college crush, he was a broken man. His startup had gone bankrupt, his son was in a wheelchair, and his “ride-or-die” high school sweetheart had abandoned him. At a public park, Arthur gently approached my food truck. “Can I just buy half a breakfast sandwich?” I nodded and handed him a few for free. Years later, we had built a tech empire from the ground up, standing at the absolute pinnacle of Silicon Valley. On the day Arthur’s company filed for its IPO and his son got accepted into Stanford, his ex-wife came back. Chloe looked just as young and beautiful as her old photos, wearing a pristine white dress, looking completely innocent. Compared to the luxury cars I had arranged for the celebration, she pulled out a stack of handmade “Good Mom Coupons” as a graduation gift for his son. “Leo, these were your absolute favorite when you were little. With these, you can make Mommy spend time with you whenever you want.” Then, she pulled out a heart-shaped river stone and pressed it into my husband’s hand. “Arthur, this represents my heart. It will never change for you.” Only after doing all of this did she finally turn to look at me. Her eyes were brimming with pure contempt. “Thank you for looking after my husband and son during the years I was lost with amnesia.” “But now that the genuine article is back, you, the temporary substitute, can leave.” I raised an eyebrow and looked at Arthur. When Chloe left him, Arthur was deeply depressed for three entire years. He had attempted suicide seven times. He had sworn to me that he would rather die than forgive his ex-wife. I was incredibly curious to see what he would choose now. … Arthur held the stone, staring coldly at Chloe. His eyes were unreadable. But only I knew that the exact second Chloe appeared, Arthur’s grip on my hand tightened so hard it actually hurt. I smiled calmly and gently patted his hand. “Chloe, your ‘amnesia’ just happened to start the exact month Leo broke his legs and Arthur declared bankruptcy? What an incredible medical coincidence.” I said this not only to humiliate Chloe, but to remind Arthur. Arthur set the stone aside. “Chloe, please leave. You are not welcome here.” The moment he said that, Chloe’s eyes immediately turned red. “Arthur, how could you treat me like this? I just had amnesia, it’s not like I stopped loving you and Leo!” “How could you betray me while my memory was gone and get with this woman?” “She’s obviously just using you for your company’s wealth. Can’t you see that?” Before anyone could react… Smack. Arthur delivered a merciless, ringing slap across her face. “Evelyn is my wife. I will not allow anyone to slander her.” Chloe clutched her cheek, massive tears rolling down her face. “Arthur, you hit me? For her? You’re driving me to my death! I don’t want to live anymore!” She turned and made a dramatic dash for the rooftop terrace. The guests scrambled to stop her. Arthur just said coldly, “Let her jump. Don’t stop her.” But at that moment, Leo lost his temper. “Dad! That’s my mom! Do you actually want her to die?!” Saying that, he knocked over the massive 23-tier cake and the champagne tower I had spent weeks preparing for him, and sprinted toward the rooftop without looking back. The celebration hall was instantly reduced to a chaotic mess. Arthur didn’t seem to care. He insisted on driving me home first. But after years of marriage, it only took one glance for me to see that his mind was already completely gone. Sure enough, the second I got into the car, he said, “Evelyn, I just remembered there’s an emergency at the office. I need to go handle it.” He walked away without looking back. Ten minutes later, my informants at the company sent me a live feed. In the deserted emergency stairwell, Chloe had her arms wrapped tightly around Arthur’s neck, kissing him deeply. Arthur didn’t respond, but he didn’t push her away either. He just let her kiss him. His hands were balled into tight fists at his sides, as if he was restraining himself with everything he had. After a long, breathless kiss, Chloe finally spoke. “Admit it, Arthur. You still love me, don’t you? Why are you fighting it?” She reached down, took his clenched fists, and pried his fingers open. “Look. Your nails are digging so hard you’re bleeding.” “Enough.” Arthur snatched his hands back. “Chloe, when you betrayed me back then, you should have known you would never get a second chance in this lifetime.” Chloe stared dead into Arthur’s eyes. “Fine. Then I’ll go jump right now to apologize with my life.” The second she turned around, Arthur grabbed her wrist in a death grip. “Didn’t you say you didn’t care about me anymore? Why are you stopping me?” Before she could finish, Arthur crashed his lips onto hers in a deep, wildly aggressive kiss. The wet, sickening sound of their intertwined breathing echoed crystal clear through my AirPods. A long time later, Arthur finally pulled back, gripping the back of Chloe’s neck. “Chloe, hate lasts longer than love. I’m going to make you live the rest of your life suffocating in guilt over what you did to me.” It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My entire body went numb. The tightly wound string in my heart—the one I had been holding onto since Chloe reappeared—finally snapped. I didn’t listen to the rest. That night, the moment I got home, I called my lawyers and began a total audit of my and Arthur’s shared assets. At the same time, I signed my name on the divorce papers Arthur had pre-signed years ago for emergencies. It was an exit strategy I built for myself, hoping I would never have to use it. I just never expected the day to come this fast. 2 Eight years ago, Arthur was the undisputed, uncrowned king of the Bay Area tech scene. And I was just a nobody who had barely scraped my way into the industry. On the keynote stage, he stood tall and arrogant, bursting with ambition, like an untouchable pine tree. I sat in the very back row of the auditorium, clutching my company brochure, too intimidated to even clap too loudly. I never expected that the next time I saw Arthur, six months later, it would be at a noisy, greasy food truck park. I was working a second job running a food truck to save up seed money for my own startup. Arthur was pushing Leo in a wheelchair, out for a walk. By then, he had lost all his former glory. He was so broke he actually had to ask if he could just buy half a sandwich. From industry gossip, I learned what happened. Arthur had been defrauded by a business partner he had trusted for years. His tech empire, built over a decade, collapsed into dust in less than a month. As if that wasn’t enough, Leo was in a horrible accident and shattered both his legs, and Arthur’s mother suffered a massive stroke from the stress. Within three days of the bankruptcy, Chloe’s family publicly severed all ties with Arthur. That very same night, Chloe vanished without a trace. Arthur completely shattered. He developed severe clinical depression. After that night at the food truck, for some reason, the lonely silhouettes of the father and son haunted my mind. Every night, I kept an eye out for them. I started giving them free meals. Over time, we grew close. I pulled him into the AI sector—a field I was heavily researching but hadn’t blown up yet. Our equally sharp business instincts made us a perfect match. Naturally, we soon became a couple. While Chloe was in Beverly Hills, re-married as a trophy wife, getting luxury manicures… I was wiping Arthur’s mother, emptying her bedpans, and washing her soiled clothes. In the dead of winter, my hands cracked and bled from constantly being submerged in freezing water. While Chloe was taking floral arrangement classes and sipping matcha lattes… I was watching YouTube tutorials on physical therapy massage techniques, hauling a teenage Leo onto my shoulders to force him through his painful rehab exercises step by step. While Chloe was traveling the world posting Instagram photos… I was sleeping two hours a night developing the core code for Arthur’s new company. I didn’t even dare to sleep deeply, terrified that if I closed my eyes, Arthur might try to kill himself again in the middle of the night. Eventually, the billionaire Chloe married went to prison for fraud. She had lived in absolute luxury for a decade. And now, she suddenly remembered her “true love,” wanting to come back and effortlessly steal the fruits of my agonizing labor. She wanted me gone. Who the hell did she think she was? Just as I hung up with my lawyer, the front door clicked open. Arthur walked in, on a phone call. His PR team was on speakerphone, asking if he wanted to file a defamation lawsuit against Chloe for the stunt she pulled at the party today. I stared at him. Sure enough, his eyes darted away. He hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head. “Forget it. Let’s just let today’s incident slide.” When his eyes finally met mine, he jumped slightly and immediately hung up the phone. He offered a stiff, robotic explanation: “I just… I don’t want to have any more ties to Chloe. A lawsuit would drag it out.” “And if I say no?” “What?” I had never spoken to Arthur with such an icy, detached tone. He looked momentarily disoriented. “If I say I refuse to drop it? What will you do?” “Do you have any idea how critical today’s celebration was for our IPO pricing this week?” “You think an absurd, humiliating circus like this can just be brushed under the rug?” Arthur subconsciously frowned, looking at me with exhausted exasperation. “Evelyn, it was just a minor hiccup. Why are you escalating this? I’ve already had the PR team suppress the stock rumors.” The gentle, patronizing tone of his voice made my chest tighten to the point of pain. “Alright, stop being angry. Come on, I’ll take you out to dinner.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door. 3 But he drove us to a restaurant I absolutely hated. The second we sat down, Leo walked in. And he brought Chloe with him. “Dad, Mom didn’t have anywhere to eat, so I brought her along.” I stood up immediately to leave. Arthur grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn, it’s just one meal. Don’t be so petty.” Chloe shot me a triumphant smirk and sat down right at the table. She immediately started arranging the silverware for Arthur and Leo, acting exactly like the lady of the house. I laughed. Suddenly, I didn’t want to leave either. I sat back down and pulled up the digital menu on my phone. Why should I let myself go hungry? While ordering, Arthur and Leo coincidentally selected several of Chloe’s favorite dishes at the exact same time. The two of them exchanged an awkward, knowing smile, then one of them deleted the duplicates. I didn’t care. I just ordered my own favorite expensive steaks and seafood. When I finished, Chloe suddenly decided to play the frugal housewife. “Wow, this is a lot of food. The four of us probably can’t finish all this, right?” Arthur glanced at the digital cart. Without even asking me, he deleted every single item I had ordered. Speechless, I snatched the tablet back and re-added all my food. Arthur seemed to suddenly realize how bad he looked. He scratched the back of his neck and kept his mouth shut. While waiting for the food, Chloe casually turned to Leo. “Hey, where’s that emergency contact form for school you wanted me to sign?” I watched as Leo pulled out the school form. Under “Father,” it said Arthur. Under “Mother,” it said Chloe. A memory from years ago flashed through my mind. Back then, Leo’s legs had just healed, but he still walked with a severe limp. The kids in his class constantly mocked him, and the local gang members near the high school regularly bullied him for cash. He never told anyone. I only found out when I saw the bruises covering his ribs. That exact day, I grabbed a baseball bat from the garage and drove straight to the alley where the gang hung out. At first, they laughed at me. Until I took over fifty hits from a steel pipe, legs shaking, and still managed to stand back up and swing at them. They got scared. After that day, nobody ever messed with Leo again. Once my own broken ribs healed, I spent hours every single day stretching Leo’s muscles, painfully correcting his posture until his limp vanished entirely. From that day forward, Leo quietly changed his school emergency contact to my name. But the second Chloe came back, without doing a single damn thing, everything reverted right back to the original default. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. When the food arrived, I ate in silence. Chloe took a bite of a spicy dish and coughed. Both father and son immediately panicked, reaching for her water. Chloe smiled gently and dropped her half-eaten food directly into Arthur’s bowl. “Don’t want to waste it.” Arthur didn’t say a word. He just picked it up with his fork and ate it. When dinner ended, Chloe suddenly announced she needed to speak with me alone. She told Arthur and Leo to go to the car first. I had zero interest in entertaining her. I turned and walked toward the street, but she followed me like a shadow. I didn’t realize she was actually insane. When we reached a Y-shaped intersection near the parking garage, she violently shoved me forward. We ended up standing in the middle of the road, splitting the two lanes. She was on the right, I was on the left. Arthur and Leo’s cars came speeding around the blind corner side-by-side. When they saw Chloe and me standing in the middle of the road, their eyes went wide with horror. It was too late to brake. To the left, me. To the right, Chloe. In a fraction of a second, the tires shrieked violently against the asphalt. Both cars simultaneously swerved directly toward me. CRASH! Shutterstock It wasn’t a graze. It was a solid, sickeningly heavy impact that vibrated through every internal organ in my body. Agonizing pain instantly consumed my entire nervous system. My body didn’t feel like my own. I flew through the air, completely weightless, before slamming brutally against the pavement. Laying on the freezing asphalt, I could hear the sound of my own bones shattering. Warm liquid gushed from my forehead and mouth. The taste of rust filled my throat. My vision was a blur of crimson, my ears ringing with a deafening siren. But through the blood, I could clearly see Chloe mouthing the words at me: “You lose.” And I could clearly hear Arthur and Leo’s panicked voices, asking if Chloe was okay. … I woke up in the hospital to the sound of screaming. “Chloe, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to stand in the middle of the road?! Is that a joke to you?! Stop this! How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t love you anymore! Get out of my house! I have my own life now!” “No! If I can’t have you, no one can! I only left because I had amnesia, it wasn’t my fault! Arthur, you belong to me. You will always belong to me!” “Admit it, Arthur! You and Leo still have me in your hearts! You both still love me!” The argument lasted for a full thirty minutes. Neither of them backed down an inch. Leo stood between them, trying to mediate. The three of them looked exactly like a dysfunctional, but deeply connected, family. I had been awake the entire time, but none of them even noticed. My throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper. I forced my shattered body to reach for the water cup on the nightstand. My hand slipped. The glass shattered on the floor. Only then did the screaming abruptly stop. Arthur rushed over to my bed, grabbing my hand tightly, looking incredibly heartbroken. “Evelyn! You’re finally awake! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!” “Get out. Every single one of you, GET OUT!” My explosive scream finally brought silence to the room. For the next few days, as if trying to prove his loyalty to me, Arthur intentionally forced Chloe to act as my caretaker in the hospital as “punishment.” But Chloe tortured me. She dropped dead roaches into my hospital food. She unplugged my oxygen monitor when I fell asleep. She secretly swapped out my pain meds. Because of her, I was rushed into emergency resuscitation three different times. Arthur would yell at her, but in the end, he always just let it slide with a warning. I finally saw this man’s true, ugly face in high definition. I banned all visitors, hired my own private nurses, and finally managed to get discharged. 4 The very first thing I did after leaving the hospital was go to the company headquarters to finalize the asset division. But the second I stepped out of the elevator, I froze. The entire office interior had been changed. My carefully designed, sleek minimalist black-and-grey decor had been replaced with aggressively loud Barbie pink. The weekly executive meeting, which I always led, was currently being chaired by Chloe. “I don’t care who you thought the ‘lady of the house’ was before. From this second forward, I am the queen of this company. I am the CEO’s legal wife. Certain thieves who stole other people’s lives will be kicked out of this building very soon. I suggest you all open your eyes and pick the right side.” As soon as she finished speaking, several of the most powerful investors in the Silicon Valley ecosystem, who were sitting at the VIP table, began clapping. These were titans of the industry. They wouldn’t have showed up unless Arthur personally begged them to. So, Arthur called in all his favors and brought the biggest sharks in the valley here, just to give Chloe a power trip. I suddenly remembered our early startup days. I had fallen violently ill with an undiagnosed autoimmune flare-up. The pain was so unbearable I begged Arthur to use his leftover connections to get me an appointment with a top specialist. He refused, claiming it was “too humiliating” to beg his old contacts for a favor. I suffered in blinding agony for two solid months until my body fought it off alone. The canyon between being loved and unloved is truly bottomless. I was about to push the glass doors open and reclaim my boardroom, but a hand clamped down on my wrist. It was Leo. Funny. Leo never came to the office. But he was here today, clearly acting as Chloe’s bodyguard. Leo coldly pulled out an equity transfer notice, signed by Arthur. “This is Dad’s order. He’s making my mom a founding shareholder, with the exact same voting power as you.” “Since you’re barren and have no kids anyway, this entire company is going to be mine eventually. My mom taking over is inevitable. There’s no point in you throwing a tantrum now.” Hearing the word “barren,” I let out a dry laugh. When Arthur and I first got married, Leo was incredibly emotionally unstable and absolutely refused to accept a younger sibling. Because of that, I chose to go on birth control for years. Later, when Leo grew up and didn’t care as much, I started agonizing, high-risk IVF treatments at an older age. I finally got pregnant, but due to a vicious internal corporate war Arthur dragged me into, the stress caused a miscarriage. I got pregnant again three years later. But to secure the flagship enterprise contract that saved our company, I worked myself to the bone. The baby died in the womb. On the day of the induced labor, I cried until my vocal cords bled. Arthur held me tightly in the hospital bed, sobbing, swearing to God he would never let me suffer even a fraction of pain ever again. Out of crushing guilt toward the babies I lost, I decided I would never try to have kids again. And now, all my sacrifices, all my compromises, earned me exactly one sentence from Leo: “Since you’re barren anyway.” I shoved him away, walked straight to my private office, and started packing my things. Once the asset split was complete, the company would be divided. I had absolutely no intention of staying in this polluted wasteland for a second longer. Seeing me packing boxes, Arthur walked in. “Evelyn, what are you doing?” “Throwing out some useless garbage,” I said coldly. Hearing my tone, Arthur spoke cautiously. “Are you mad that I brought Chloe to the office?” “Don’t misunderstand. Leo said a psychic told him Chloe’s astrological chart brings good luck to the IPO this year. That’s the only reason I let her in.” “Just treat her like a mascot! Once the year is over, I’ll kick her out. Don’t overthink it.” “And the shares? A mascot needs a 20% equity stake?” Arthur choked on his words. It took him a long time to awkwardly reply, “The billionaire she married went bankrupt. She’s a woman with no job history and no degree, it’s hard for her to survive in this economy. The shares are just…” “Stop.” I was so done listening to his garbage. I pulled the office door open, ready to tell Arthur to get the hell out. But suddenly, Chloe came stumbling out from the end of the hallway. Her clothes were torn, her hair was a mess, and there were bleeding scratches on her face. “Arthur! Help! Help me…” She gritted her teeth, using all her strength to grab Arthur’s sleeve. When she saw me, her entire body went rigid. She immediately lowered her head, let go of him, and stumbled backward in terror. “E-Evelyn… I’m sorry! I was wrong, I won’t do it again! I’ll leave California right now, I promise I’ll never…” A perfect, cinematic tear rolled down her cheek. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes. “I’ll never appear in front of Arthur ever again.” Then, she turned and limped toward the elevators, looking like the most tragic, bullied victim on earth. I was completely stunned. Her acting was so hyper-realistic, for a second I genuinely questioned if I had hired a hitman to beat her up and warn her away from my husband. I let out a sarcastic sneer and turned to observe Arthur’s reaction. His face was completely blank. I couldn’t read his mind at all. “Do you actually think I did that to her?” I asked, testing him. He pulled me into a hug. “I know you. You would never do something like that.” I nodded. At least he still had one microscopic shred of a conscience left. However, the very next morning, I received an emergency call from my lawyer. “Ms. Davis, your husband utilized his CEO veto power to unilaterally expel you from the Board of Directors. All of your vested equity has been illegally transferred to a holding company under Chloe’s name.” “And… Mr. Evans just issued a company-wide gag order. No one is allowed to tell you the time and location of the IPO bell-ringing ceremony in New York. Because he is taking Ms. Chloe with him to ring the bell.” I was completely paralyzed. The stock price had finally stabilized. The company was about to ring the bell at the New York Stock Exchange. And at the absolute finish line, he kicked me off the board, stole the fruits of my decade of blood and sweat, and handed it all to her? And he was taking her to ring the bell? My entire decade of pure, devoted love had officially become the biggest joke of the century. On the day of the IPO, Chloe was dressed in a million-dollar haute couture gown, blinding the paparazzi with her diamonds. Watching Chloe link arms with Arthur and walk up to the NYSE balcony, the entire financial world assumed the tech empire officially had a new queen. The exchange president respectfully invited Chloe to the center of the podium. Arthur held Chloe’s hand, raising the gavel high in the air. Just a millisecond before the gavel struck the bell, a voice from the floor below echoed through the hall. “Hold on.”

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When I opened my eyes, I had returned to five years ago—the exact day my boyfriend, Liam Vance, was supposed to enter an arranged marriage with the wealthy heiress, Chloe Sterling. In my past life, I was kicked out of the Vance family without knowing I was pregnant. Five years later, Liam was diagnosed with leukemia and desperately needed a bone marrow transplant. Chloe, having discovered she was infertile, hid the truth from everyone and stole my daughter. My little girl died a tragic death while being used to save Liam. Reborn, I hid for five whole years, raising my daughter, Aria, to be healthy and chubby. This year, on Valentine’s Day, I brought Aria to the waterfront promenade to sell roses. Someone set off fireworks. The loud explosions terrified Aria, and she ran into the crowd crying. I chased after her, only to see her bump straight into Liam’s legs. Liam stared at the two identical little faces—hers and his own childhood photos—and gasped. He picked the child up, his voice trembling: “How… how old are you?” “Five!” “Who is your mother?” “Maya. She’s right over there.” 1 The wind coming off the water was freezing. I pulled my scarf tighter, crouching by my little stand to organize the roses. I wrapped them in cellophane, bunch by bunch, and placed them in plastic buckets. It was Valentine’s Day, and the promenade was packed with people selling flowers. Aria stood beside me, her little hands red from the cold, helping me count the dollar bills. “Mommy, will we sell them all today?” “We will.” I patted her head, my voice soft. A five-year-old child, so well-behaved it broke my heart. She never threw tantrums, never asked for toys. She only asked, “Will we sell them all today?” Because if we sold them all, we could afford to eat meat tomorrow. Music drifted over from a distance. Someone was proposing by the water. Fireworks shot into the sky. Aria looked up, her eyes sparkling. “Mommy, it’s so pretty!” “Yeah, it’s beautiful.” I looked at the fireworks, feeling absolutely nothing inside. In my past life, Liam had set off fireworks for me, too. It was my eighteenth birthday. He told me he would marry me. Later, he broke that promise. Bang—! A massive firework exploded, and the crowd surged backward. Aria flinched, her little face turning pale. “Mommy! I’m scared!” She stumbled, and a wave of pedestrians separated us. My heart seized. I lunged forward. “Aria! Don’t run!” There were too many people on the pier. She was so small, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone. I desperately shoved through the crowd, my hands shaking. I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t lose her again. Finally, I spotted that tiny silhouette. She had bumped right into a man’s legs. The man was wearing a long black wool coat, his figure tall and lean. My breath stopped. It was Liam. It had been five years. He looked exactly the same. Handsome, aloof, looking down at the world from on high. Only now, there was a trace of exhaustion between his brows. I rushed over. Just as he was about to get a clear look at Aria’s face, I snatched her up and buried her face into my chest. He didn’t see what she looked like. Liam looked at me, his brow furrowing. “Are you…?” “Thank you.” I cut him off, holding Aria tight. Keeping my head down so he couldn’t see my face, I turned to walk away. “Wait!” He called out. With my child in my arms and my back to him, I froze. “Little girl, what’s your name?” He was asking Aria. Aria answered in her sweet, milky voice: “I’m Aria.” “Aria…” He repeated it, his voice sounding somewhat dazed. “Liam!” A woman’s voice rang out. Chloe Sterling ran over in her designer heels and linked her arm through Liam’s. “Why did you walk so fast…” Before she could finish her sentence, she saw me, and she saw Aria in my arms. More accurately, she saw Aria’s face over my shoulder. She froze completely, her eyes widening in shock. My heart sank. This was bad. Aria looked entirely too much like Liam did when he was a child. This was the exact time Liam was diagnosed with leukemia. If they recognized us, they would definitely force Aria to do the bone marrow transplant. Holding Aria tight, I walked quickly into the thick of the crowd. “Liam…” Chloe’s voice drifted from behind me, trembling. “That child…” “What?” Liam’s voice. I walked even faster. Aria wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered: “Mommy, why are we running?” “It’s nothing, baby. Mommy is taking you home.” I ducked through the crowd and glanced back one last time. Chloe was standing frozen in place, staring in our direction. Liam was beside her, talking to her. By the time we got back to our cramped apartment in the working-class part of the city, my hands were still shaking. I laid Aria on the bed. She had already fallen asleep, exhausted from the scare. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her face. This face… It was what got her killed in my past life. In this life, I would not let tragedy repeat itself. But… I saw Chloe’s expression just now. She recognized her. She definitely recognized Aria’s face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Maya, don’t be afraid. No matter what happens, you cannot panic. My phone suddenly buzzed. It was an unknown number. I hesitated for a moment, then answered. “Hello?” “Maya. Long time no see.” It was Chloe—Liam’s arranged fiancée, and his current wife. 2 My heart dropped. “How did you get my number?” “Finding you was easy,” she said with a light laugh, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Maya, that little girl from earlier… is she your daughter?” I stayed silent. “She’s so cute,” Chloe paused. “She looks just like Liam did when he was little.” I gripped my phone tighter. “Chloe, what are you trying to say?” “Nothing, I’m just curious. Who is the father?” She laughed. I bit my lip. “That’s none of your business.” “Don’t be mad,” Chloe’s voice grew even sweeter. “I just care about you. Raising a child all by yourself must be so hard, right?” “Chloe,” I said calmly. “I have nothing to do with the Vance family anymore. I’m no longer their foster daughter, and I will never be your enemy. Live a good life with Liam, and leave me alone.” I hung up. The phone rang again. It was her. I powered the phone off completely. I tossed it onto the table and leaned back in my chair. Trouble was coming. Chloe recognized Aria. What would she do? Tell Liam? Or… I remembered her methods from my past life. She wouldn’t just tell Liam. She would wait until Liam was diagnosed with leukemia, then she would steal Aria, telling Liam she simply found a random orphan who was a match. Then… Aria would have her bone marrow extracted over and over again, eventually dying before she even turned six. And Liam would never even know that the person saving him was his own daughter. I leaned back, closing my eyes as the memories flooded in like a tidal wave. When I was eight, the Vance family took me in. It was raining that day. I was squatting on the steps of the foster home, hugging my knees. Mrs. Vance, wearing a sleek black dress, held an umbrella. She looked down at me and frowned. “You’re Maya?” “Yes.” I nodded. “From today on, you are a child of the Vance family,” Mrs. Vance said. “Your new brother is a bit aloof. You need to be obedient, understand?” “I understand,” I whispered. Back then, I thought I finally had a real home. When we arrived at the Vance estate, Liam was standing by the door. He was two years older than me. Ten years old. Wearing a crisp white button-down, he looked incredibly cold. “Liam, this is your new sister. Take good care of her,” Mrs. Vance said. Liam glanced at me. “Whatever.” He turned and walked inside. I followed behind him, walking on eggshells. The Vance family was a cold place. Mrs. Vance was polite but distant. Mr. Vance was always busy; I barely saw him. Only Liam occasionally acknowledged my existence. Once, I was bullied by some kids at school. They called me an unwanted orphan. I ran home crying. I hid under the covers in my room, sobbing alone. The door suddenly pushed open. Liam stood in the doorway. “Stop crying, it’s annoying.” He frowned. I wiped my tears, not daring to make a sound. Liam walked over and tossed a piece of candy at me. “Eat this and shut up.” I stared blankly at the candy. It was my favorite milk caramel. “Thank you…” “Don’t thank me.” Liam turned to leave. “If anyone bullies you again, tell me.” And with that, he left. Leaving me alone, clutching that piece of candy, crying and laughing at the same time. From that day on, I followed him everywhere. Like a little shadow. Wherever he went, I went. Whatever he did, I watched. This went on until I turned eighteen. I knew I had fallen in love with him, but I never dared to say it. Our social statuses were worlds apart. Until one winter night, Liam got drunk, and I helped him back to his room. He suddenly grabbed my hand. “Maya.” He looked at me, his eyes hazy. “Do you know? I love you.” I froze. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he said. “But I didn’t dare say it, because you’re supposed to be my sister.” Tears fell from my eyes. “I… I love you too…” Liam smiled. He pulled me in and kissed me. From that day on, we were together. Secretly. Terrified of Mrs. Vance finding out. Liam said that as soon as he took over the company, he would marry me. I believed him. Like an idiot, I believed him for two years. Until five years ago, Mrs. Vance called me into her study. She sat behind her massive mahogany desk, her face ice-cold. “Maya, I know about you and Liam.” 3 “Mrs. Vance…” “Pack your things. You’re moving out tomorrow,” she cut me off. “The Vance family doesn’t need you anymore. Liam has grown up. He doesn’t need a live-in babysitter anymore.” I froze. “Besides, Chloe is returning from abroad.” Mrs. Vance looked at me. “She is the one Liam is meant to marry. A true socialite, a billionaire heiress. You are just a stray we picked up from a foster home. You aren’t worthy of him.” I bit my lip, tears spilling over. “But… but Liam said he was going to marry me…” “That was before he understood what the right choice was,” she sneered. I ran to find Liam. He was standing in his bedroom, his back to me. “Liam…” I cried. “Your mother told me to move out… tell her you’re going to marry me. Please…” Liam turned around. His eyes were completely devoid of warmth. “Maya, I’m sorry. I’m marrying Chloe,” he said calmly. “Chloe’s family can help the Vance empire.” “But you said you’d marry me…” I grabbed his hand. “That was just talk.” Liam shook me off. “Maya, it’s time to grow up. Stop dreaming.” I looked at him, my heart shattering into a million pieces. “Did you… did you ever love me at all?” Liam fell silent. After a long time, he finally said: “I do. But love doesn’t change anything. I have more important things to do.” I collapsed onto the floor. A flash of pain crossed Liam’s eyes. But ultimately, he turned and walked away. It was New Year’s Eve. I packed my bags. Mrs. Vance stood by the door, watching me coldly. Carrying my suitcase, I walked out of the Vance estate. The place I had once thought was my home. It was snowing outside. I stood by the gates and looked back one last time. Liam was standing at the second-floor window. Looking down at me. Our eyes met. Then, I turned and walked away, and I never looked back. I opened my eyes, my mind clear and cold. That was the past. That naive, crying Maya was dead. In this life, I would never love him again. And I would never shed another tear for him. Early the next morning, I took Aria to the wholesale flower market to restock. As soon as we reached the entrance, I saw a black SUV parked by the curb. My chest tightened. The door opened. Chloe stepped out, followed by two men in black suits. She was wearing a beige trench coat and designer heels. Seeing me, she smiled. “Maya. What a coincidence.” I shielded Aria behind me. “What do you want?” “Don’t be nervous.” Chloe walked over. “I just wanted to have a chat.” “We have nothing to chat about.” I grabbed Aria’s hand to leave, but the two men blocked my path. “Move!” I glared at them. “It’s broad daylight, what are you trying to do?!” “Don’t get so worked up.” Chloe stepped right in front of me and looked down at Aria. “Little girl, how old are you?” Aria hid behind my legs, staying silent. “Five, right?” Chloe smiled. “If I do the math, she was born the exact same year you left the Vance family.” I bit my lip, saying nothing. Chloe looked at me. “Liam is the father, isn’t he?” “It’s none of your business.” “Of course it’s my business.” Her smile vanished. “If this child belongs to Liam, it is absolutely my business.” I stared at her, my blood running cold. I could never let her take Aria. “She’s not his.” “I did my research.” Chloe pulled a stack of photos from her coat. “For the past five years, you’ve been raising this kid completely alone. There has never been a man in the picture. So, the father can only be Liam.” I clenched my fists. “What do you want?” “Simple.” Chloe held out a piece of paper. “Five hundred thousand dollars.” “Take the money and leave. Go anywhere you want, just don’t ever show your face in this city again. And the child stays with me! I will raise her as my own!” I looked at her and sneered. “I won’t take your money, and I won’t disappear. If you want to tell Liam…” “I think you’re the one who should be afraid. If Liam finds out I’m in the city, with how deeply he loved me, and with Aria here… your status as Mrs. Vance will be nothing but an empty title.” “So I suggest you don’t do anything stupid.” Chloe’s face twisted in rage. She grabbed my arm and raised her hand to slap me. Aria suddenly broke free from behind me and stood in front of me. “Don’t bully my mommy!” Chloe’s hand connected with Aria’s face. A sharp, cracking slap. Aria was knocked backward. Her little head slammed against the concrete steps of the flower shop. “Aria!”

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I had the distinct misfortune of transmigrating into a trashy CEO romance novel. And because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, I woke up in the middle of labor, pushing out baby number two. That alone was absurd. But what truly sent me over the edge was that the moment the second infant slid into the world, it looked me in the eye and called me “Mommy.” My eyes rolled back in my head. I passed out cold. When I came to, the newborns were already crawling. 01 I sat there, paralyzed, watching two cherubic little monsters scurrying across the hardwood floor like they were possessed. It dawned on me then: I hadn’t even given birth in a hospital. This was a home birth. “Mommy… uppie!” The voices were synchronized, sugary sweet, and absolutely terrifying. My mental dam broke. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. “I am not your mother! I’m single! I have a cat!” “Waaah! Mommy doesn’t like me!” The girl’s face crumbled. She let out a wail that could shatter glass. Naturally, panic is contagious. The boy, apparently possessing the lungs of an opera singer, joined in. It was a symphony of chaos. I was numb. Accepting my fate, I grabbed a child in each arm, stiffened my expression, and barked, “Stop crying.” Silence. Instantaneous silence. They looked up at me with wide, tear-filled doe eyes. The girl blinked, her lashes wet and heavy, then lunged forward and planted a wet, slobbery kiss on my cheek. “Mommy… don’t be mad.” God help me. They were disgustingly cute. Who could resist that? My icy demeanor cracked. I sighed, defeated, and pressed a finger to my lips. “Shh. Just… give me a minute. Let me breathe.” To their credit, the little terrors went quiet as mice. I ran a hand through my sweaty, matted hair, trying to process the impossible reality before me. I had read a few of those trending “genius baby” romance novels as research—ironic research, mind you—and now here I was. Waking up in the delivery room. Birthing twins was wild enough. But twins who could talk and crawl minutes after birth? I couldn’t decide if I was in a CEO romance or a Marvel origin story. I set the kids down and dragged my exhausted body around the room. I found an ID card on the dresser. Margot Lane. Mystery solved. I had become the protagonist of The Tycoon’s Secret Heirs: The Runaway Bride. The plot was standard garbage: The heroine has a one-night stand with a mysterious man, flees the country, gives birth to genius twins, and returns five years later to shock the corporate world. There’s revenge, a love-hate relationship with the CEO, a “groveling arc” where he begs for forgiveness, and eventually, a happy ending with a second pregnancy. While I was still reeling from this revelation, the demonic duo started chanting again. “Mommy hungry. Mommy hungry… Milk!” I froze. Breastfeeding? Absolutely not. Not in this life, not in the next. I was a twenty-four-year-old virgin in my real life. That level of intimacy was way above my pay grade. Ignoring their pleading gazes with a heart of stone, I bolted for the kitchen to find formula. I was fumbling with the instructions on the tin, hands shaking, when a piercing scream cut through the house. “Help! Mommy, help! Bad man!” 02 I dropped the bottle and sprinted to the living room. My heart hammered against my ribs. A wall of men in black suits blocked the doorway. Home invasion? Kidnapping? My brain stalled. “Mommy, save us!” The cry snapped me back to reality. I turned stiffly to see a tall, broad-shouldered man holding the twins by the backs of their onesies, lifting them into the air like they were stray cats. The kids were flailing their chubby limbs helplessly. I didn’t like these kids, strictly speaking, but child abuse was where I drew the line. “Put them down!” I shouted, adrenaline spiking as I lunged forward. The man froze. He lowered the children to the floor, his back still to me. His posture was rigid, and when he spoke, his deep, cold voice carried a strange tremor. “You… you already gave birth?” “What is it to you if I gave birth or not? Who the hell are you?” I checked the kids for injuries, firing back without thinking. “Margot… now that the children are here… what do you plan to do?” The man turned around slowly. I gasped. The air left my lungs. His face was a masterpiece of genetic engineering. Chiseled jawline, piercing eyes—he looked like a composite sketch of every “Sexiest Man Alive” cover from the last decade. I narrowed my eyes. “You are?” “I’m Harrison Sterling. One year ago, at the Empire Hotel, Penthouse Suite 901…” “So you’re the scumbag!” For a second, the original host’s tragic memories flooded my brain. Rage, hot and irrational, surged through me. I launched myself at him, ready to scratch that perfect face, but two bodyguards intercepted me with practiced ease. The twins, bless them, waddled toward me on their short legs, screaming, “Bad man! Let Mommy go!” A weird warmth bloomed in my chest. At least they were loyal. Harrison looked at me with a bizarre expression—half confusion, half scrutiny. He waved a dismissive hand at his guards. “Let her go.” I stumbled back, shielding the twins behind me. My mind raced through the plot. In the book, the reunion wasn’t supposed to happen for five years. Why was Harrison here now? Had my arrival butterflied the timeline? This guy was supposed to be the most powerful man in the city, wealthier than God. I couldn’t fight him. Not with two toddlers hanging off my legs. I was playing on Hard Mode. I decided to bluff. “What… what do you want?” “Margot, what do you want?” We spoke at the exact same time. Wait. Why did he sound so unsure? He sounded less like a titan of industry and more like a guy who forgot his wallet on a first date. If he had no confidence, then I had all of it. I shoved the two bewildered toddlers toward him. “They’re your kids. You raise them.” 03 Harrison frowned, looking at the two small humans as if they were alien artifacts. Then he looked at me, a complicated expression on his face. “They aren’t just mine. Why should I raise them?” I blinked. This… wasn’t following the script. In these novels, doesn’t the possessive CEO usually try to steal the heirs immediately? Why was he going off-book? “Excuse me?” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “They are literally your flesh and blood. You’re a billionaire. Are you seriously suggesting a struggling single mother should raise two kids while you sit on your pile of gold? Do you have a conscience?” I was a twenty-something single woman trying to survive a transmigration event. I couldn’t raise two kids. The thought of these clingy “velcro babies” sticking to me for eighteen years made my brain short-circuit. I had to offload them. Now. Harrison pondered this for a few seconds. “That’s… actually a fair point. Looking at your current living situation, you probably don’t have the capacity to care for them properly.” I glared at him. Rich people and their casual insults. But I swallowed my pride. “Exactly. Yes. You are absolutely right. You are the perfect candidate.” Harrison seemed to accept this logic. He glanced at his bodyguards. “Take the children.” The guards nodded and stepped forward. But before their hands could graze the fabric of the onesies, a sound like a banshee’s wail ripped through the room. “WAAAAH! Mommy, save me!” The girl, Luna, bolted back to me and latched onto my thigh like a limpet. Before I could peel her off, the boy, Atlas, clamped onto my other leg. The stereo crying was deafening. “Mommy doesn’t want us anymore! Boo hoo hoo! We’re just trash babies now!” “Mommy doesn’t love us! She’s giving us to the villain! We’re like weeds in the wind, so pitiful…” I listened to their melodramatic wailing, feeling a migraine coming on. “Like weeds in the wind”? What kind of newborn talks like this? This was impossible. Harrison looked equally pained, rubbing his temples. “It seems they’re attached to you. Look, just… come back with me. I have a villa. We have nannies. You won’t have to do anything.” I paused. Wait. A villa? Nannies? No responsibilities? Maybe this Harrison guy wasn’t the tyrannical monster from the book. He was actually being quite reasonable. “Deal,” I said. And just like that, I moved into the Sterling estate. I have to admit, the man had taste. The villa was obscene—in a good way. Marble everything, art that cost more than my student loans, and a staff of twelve. Best of all, I didn’t have to lift a finger. I ate Michelin-star meals and lounged by the pool. This was the life. This was the dream. But, of course, paradise never lasts. 04 “Margot!” Harrison’s voice was frantic. “Get in here! Atlas and Luna are refusing the nannies. They won’t stop crying!” I groaned. I had named them Atlas and Luna because I wanted them to carry the weight of the world and live on the moon—far away from me. Or maybe it was just poetic. “Waaaah…” “Margot, seriously! Hurry up!” The fantasy of a peaceful life shattered. I dragged myself upstairs to the nursery. The scene was chaos. The twins were swatting away the terrified nannies, tears streaming down their faces, screaming for Mommy. And their father, the mighty Harrison Sterling, was standing by the window, pressed against the glass as if trying to merge with it. Rage flared in my chest. I marched over and smacked his arm. “What are you doing over here? Why aren’t you holding them?” “Me?” Harrison looked horrified. “You’re the father, aren’t you? Trying to be a deadbeat dad while living in the same house?” He looked desperate. “I’ve never held a baby. Can’t you… go comfort them?” “Like I’m an expert?” I scoffed. “They’re your kids too. We go together.” Harrison looked at the screaming demons, swallowed hard, and nodded. “Okay.” We approached the cribs like we were defusing bombs. Stiffly, we each picked up a child. Miraculously, the crying stopped instantly. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I rocked Luna for a minute, then tried to pass her to a nanny so I could go back to my spa day. The second my grip loosened, the siren wailed again. I was going to lose my mind. Why were they designed to be instruments of torture? I looked at Harrison to complain, but his face had gone pale. He was staring at me with pure despair. “I think… he pooped.” Happiness really is relative. I burst out laughing. The cold, ruthless CEO of the novel had just been pooped on by a newborn. 05 “Margot, stop laughing!” Harrison yelled, his face a mask of misery. I looked at the stain spreading on his bespoke Italian suit and smirked. “Laughing isn’t illegal. It doesn’t hurt you. Why can’t I laugh?” Seeing the high-and-mighty protagonist brought low by a bowel movement was therapeutic. Harrison opened his mouth to argue, but the baby in his arms tugged at his sleeve. “Daddy,” Atlas squeaked, “clean pants now?” Harrison froze. He looked at me, eyes pleading. “I… I don’t know how to do this.” “You don’t? And you think I do?” I shot back. Did he expect me to handle the dirty work? Dream on. “But…” “No buts!” I cut him off. “Atlas pooped on you, not me. Don’t even think about pawning this off.” “You gave birth to them! This is irresponsible!” Harrison was sweating now. I shrugged, examining my nails. Yes, I birthed them physically, but I didn’t choose this. I was a twenty-four-year-old modern woman. I barely knew how to keep a succulent alive. Transmigrating was hard enough. Was I expected to change diapers too? “Say whatever you want. Handle it yourself. Or don’t. Maybe just… don’t wash it? Live like that forever?” I cuddled Luna close and walked out, leaving him to his doom. Back in my room, the adrenaline faded, and a nagging thought surfaced. Something was wrong. Over the next few days, the feeling grew stronger. Harrison Sterling… wasn’t acting like a CEO. I remembered the book. The original character was domineering, cruel, and radiated “alpha” energy. But this guy? We argued constantly about the kids, but he usually just looked helpless, sighed, and then did whatever I said. He wasn’t domineering. He was… reasonable. Almost pushover-ish. The more I watched him, the more I became convinced. This Harrison was a fake. 06 A few nights later, Harrison came home drunk from a business dinner. People say drunk words are sober thoughts. The universe was handing me an interrogation opportunity on a silver platter. I cornered him in the hallway. “Hey… Harrison. You okay?” He swayed. “Did something happen?” I pressed. “Or did you hit your head recently? Because you don’t act like a CEO at all.” I was fishing, trying to see if he had amnesia or a brain tumor. Instead, he loosened his tie and shouted at the ceiling. “I’m struggling here!” I blinked. “Excuse me?” “I’ve never done anything bad! I return my shopping carts! Why is God doing this to me?” He wailed, his voice cracking with genuine despair. “Harrison, what are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. He just mumbled incoherent complaints, and then—I kid you not—he started crying. I stood there, arms crossed, watching a billionaire sob into his hands. If the tabloids saw this, stock prices would crash. Realizing I wasn’t going to get a straight answer, I sighed and dragged him into his bedroom. I dumped him onto the king-sized mattress and turned to leave. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my wrist. He yanked me down. “Harrison! What the hell?” I panicked. Was this the part where the “drunken CEO forces himself on the heroine” trope kicked in? I pushed against his chest, but he was heavy—dead weight, really. He wrapped his arms around me like I was a teddy bear, trapping me. I struggled for ten minutes. He didn’t move. Eventually, exhaustion won, and I fell asleep right there in his iron grip. 07 I woke up the next morning to a scream. I opened my eyes to see Harrison staring at me, horrified. His handsome face was contorted in pure terror. Before I could speak, he scrambled backward, fell off the bed, and landed hard on his butt. He held up three fingers, swearing an oath. “I swear! I swear I didn’t do anything last night! I’m still a virgin!” I choked on a laugh. “You’re a virgin? Then where did the kids come from? Did the stork drop them via Amazon Prime?” Harrison turned beet red. He looked around wildly, then scrambled to his feet, aiming for the door. “Oh no, you don’t.” I lunged, tackling him in a classic wrestling move, pinning him to the carpet. “Harrison Sterling! Talk! What did you mean by that?” He squirmed beneath me. “Nothing! It was sleep talking! Get off!” He looked at my hands like they were weapons. “Get off? If you don’t tell the truth, I’m never letting go.” My suspicions had hit critical mass. The weird behavior, the crying, the virginity comment. “I told the truth!” he insisted. “Fine. Have it your way.” I grinned, wiggling my fingers. “Then prepare for… The Tickle Monster.” I went for the ribs. “HAHAHA! NO! MARGOT! STOP! HAHAHA!” He shrieked like a schoolgirl. It was pathetic. It was definitely not CEO behavior. Finally, limp and breathless, he surrendered. “Okay! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” “Good boy.” I sat back. Harrison caught his breath, sat up, and looked at me with the eyes of a kicked puppy. “If I told you… that we are inside a book… would you believe me?” Inside a book? My eyes widened. He was a transmigrator too.

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