Growing up, every woman I knew was in love with Bennett. It didn’t matter if they were the arrogant, untouchable heiresses or the refined, overachieving seniors. Bennett was the sun, and everyone else was just a planet caught in his orbit. Then came the accident. A high-speed crash that left the younger sister, Maisie, blind, and the older one, Margot, paralyzed. Bennett did what he does best: he ran. He fled to Europe, leaving me behind with a heavy request: Take care of them for me. They hated me for it. They convinced themselves I was the one who drove him away, that I had schemed to get him out of the picture. They made my life a living hell, treating me like a stray dog they were forced to feed. I endured it all—the insults, the coldness, the impossible demands—all for the sake of the massive paycheck that kept my family afloat. But the day I finally hit my “freedom number” in my savings account, I didn’t just walk away. I flipped the table. “I’m done being your punching bag. I quit.” I expected them to scream. I expected them to throw things. Instead, Maisie—the sister who hadn’t seen a glimmer of light in months—snapped her eyes open and locked onto me with terrifying precision. And Margot—the sister who supposedly couldn’t walk—was already at the door, closing it with a click that sounded like a trap snapping shut. 1 The bowl hit the floor with a wet, heavy thud. The soup was meant for my face, but Maisie’s aim had suffered since she lost her sight. Hot broth splattered across my sneakers, soaking into the canvas. “Where is Bennett? He said he was coming today. He promised.” Maisie sat perfectly still, her eyes closed, her long lashes casting shadows over her pale, elegant face. She looked like a porcelain doll someone had tried to break but couldn’t quite shatter. I knelt down immediately to pick up the ceramic shards. Bennett was likely in London by now, probably at some underground club or a gala. The moment he realized Maisie and Margot had destroyed their bodies racing for his attention, he vanished. To him, they weren’t tragic figures; they were liabilities. “He’s dealing with some things, Maisie,” I said, my voice practiced and neutral. “He told me he’d be here as soon as the dust settles.” “Liar.” Her voice was a sharp blade. “He told me he’d overcome anything to be with me. It was you, wasn’t it? You did something to make him leave.” She reached out, her hands clawing through the air until she found the sound of my breathing. “Don’t move,” I warned, seeing her bare feet inches away from the broken porcelain. “There’s glass everywhere.” She didn’t listen. She stepped forward, her skin pressing into a sharp edge, but she didn’t even flinch. She found me, her fingers tangling into my hair, pulling my head back so I had no choice but to look up at her sightless face. “You’ve always wanted this, haven’t you, Casey?” she hissed. “You wanted him gone so you could have me all to yourself. You’re the reason he’s hiding.” The pain in my scalp made me want to shove her away, but I stayed still. I had loved her once. That was the pathetic truth. But Bennett hadn’t left because of jealousy. He left because he was a coward who couldn’t handle the sight of a wheelchair or a white cane. I couldn’t tell her that. Not if I wanted to keep getting paid. Bennett had promised me five thousand a month just to keep them happy and keep his name clean in their ears. “Tell them I love them,” he’d said. “And for god’s sake, don’t call me.” I was a college kid from a family that lived paycheck to paycheck. I needed that money. I needed to keep my mouth shut and play the martyr. Maisie kept screaming at me to call him, to apologize for whatever imaginary sin I’d committed. I remained silent, a ghost in my own life. It was only when a single, cold tear escaped my eye and landed on her wrist that she finally stopped talking. 2 My mother was the housekeeper for Bennett’s family. I grew up in the shadows of their mansion, the “plus-one” by necessity, never by choice. My mother’s mantra was simple: Make Bennett happy. If he’s happy, we’re safe. I followed him to the elite private high school on a scholarship that felt more like a leash. That was where I met Maisie. In that world, wealth was the only armor that mattered. The kids there didn’t bother with the “help’s kid,” but their lackeys—the ones desperate for a crumb of status—needed someone to kick. One afternoon, while I was doing Bennett’s chores in the school’s courtyard, a group of them cornered me. They called me Bennett’s lapdog. They laughed about how much dignity a person could sell for a tuition check. I held my broom and kept my head down. I was the quiet one. Even my mother wished I was more like Bennett—bright, loud, effortless. She never understood that I didn’t have the luxury of being reckless. They started pushing me, bored with my silence, when a girl stepped out from behind a massive oak tree. Her blazer was draped over one shoulder, her tie loosened with a deliberate, messy grace. “God, you guys are exhausting,” she said, yawning. “I’m trying to nap, and all I hear is the sound of insecurity. Move.” That was Maisie. She was the princess I had dreamed about, the one who stepped out of the light to save the boy in the dirt. I fell for her in that moment. Hard. Later, she fell for Bennett. She used me to funnel gifts to him, occasionally tossing me a gourmet cupcake as a thank-you. Those tiny crumbs of kindness were enough to fuel a fire in me for years. I hid my feelings so deep they became a part of my DNA. No one knew. Not even the internet—I only wrote about her on a private, anonymous blog, calling her “The Light.” Until Bennett found it. He walked up to Maisie at a party, slinging an arm around her. “Hey, I’m playing matchmaker. My boy Casey here is obsessed with you. You two should get a room.” I remember the ice that filled my veins. I tried to laugh it off, tried to pull him away. Maisie’s reaction was swifter. “Are you joking? I wouldn’t even date you on a good day, Bennett. Why would I want the guy who disappears into the background the moment the lights come on?” They laughed. They turned it into a game of tag, chasing each other across the lawn while I stood there, rooted to the spot. I couldn’t even look up. I just gripped the hem of my shirt and waited for them to finish, because as long as my mom worked for his dad, I had to stay. I watched them for years after that. I saw her playfully mess up his hair; I saw him flirt with her and her older sister, Margot, playing them against each other like a deck of cards. Now, my hair was finally long enough for her to grab, but she wasn’t doing it out of love. She was doing it to hurt me. 3 After I cleaned up the glass, I saw her sitting on the rug, her heels bleeding onto the fibers. She didn’t seem to care. I went downstairs to grab the first-aid kit. Margot was in the living room, her wheelchair parked by the floor-to-ceiling windows. she was reading a financial magazine, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She looked up as I passed. “Are you alright, Casey? Maisie’s moods have been… difficult. I’ll talk to her.” Liar. She had listened to the entire ten-minute tirade from downstairs without lifting a finger. She liked having me as the lightning rod. It kept the storm away from her. I’d been taking care of them for a month. Maisie was the volatile one, but Margot was the one who truly unnerved me. She was composed, “proper,” and terrifyingly smart. She was a top graduate from the same university I attended. The first time I really “met” her, she was a guest speaker at school. It was raining, and I was hauling a dozen heavy packages for Bennett, my raincoat tucked over the boxes to keep them dry. I slipped on the marble stairs right as she was walking out, surrounded by a swarm of admirers. She had knelt down, her silk dress hitting the wet pavement, and helped me gather the boxes. She was so gentle then. I actually thought she was different. But then, a week into this job, I took her to the park. She complained about the sun on her legs, so I draped my own jacket over her lap while I ran to the kiosk to buy a proper throw. When I got back, my jacket was gone. “A kid ran by and grabbed it,” she said, her voice smooth and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, Casey. People can be so cruel.” Later that evening, as I rolled her toward the exit, I saw a flash of navy blue in a trash can near the gate. It was my jacket. A $120 jacket I’d saved up for. I asked a gardener nearby if he’d seen who threw it away. “The lady in the chair,” he said, not even looking up from his shears. That was when I knew. Margot didn’t just dislike me; she found me subhuman. My belongings were filth in her presence. I took the jacket home, washed it three times, and vowed never to let her see me wear it again. 4 I couldn’t quit. Not yet. Between Bennett’s “hush money” and the sisters’ exorbitant salary—they paid me nearly $8,000 a month just because I was “reliable”—I was finally solving my family’s problems. My father’s dialysis was covered. My mother could finally breathe. So I played the part. When Maisie cried for Bennett, I texted him. Please, just send her something, I wrote. Dude, I’m literally seeing a girl who’s a literal countess right now, Bennett replied. Just tell her I’m buried in grad school work. Make something up. I told her he was studying. She laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “Bennett never studied a day in his life. He bought his way into a degree. Try again, Casey.” Eventually, I begged him for a voice note. “Hey Maisie, you little brat,” Bennett’s voice boomed through the phone, bright and effortless as always. “I’m grinding over here so I can come home a success. Wait for me, okay? Miss you.” Maisie saved that clip. She played it until her phone battery died, over and over, huddled in the dark of her room. Did she really love him that much? I remembered her buying him a $20,000 diamond watch for his eighteenth birthday and tossing me a twenty-dollar bill for the “delivery fee.” That was my value in her eyes. The price of a pizza. On my own eighteenth birthday, I was alone in a classroom at midnight, finishing the homework Bennett and Maisie had dumped on my desk so they could go out for omakase. I remember looking at a small potted ivy on the windowsill, the moonlight turning the leaves silver. I had whispered Happy Birthday to the plant. I told myself they were good people. Maisie had saved me from bullies once. Bennett had given me a path to a better education. I forced myself to be grateful. I suppressed the jealousy until it felt like a dull ache I could ignore. The moon is in the sky, and I am on the ground. I never reached for it. And even when the light hit me, I knew it didn’t belong to me. 5 As the weeks passed, Maisie grew darker. The girl with the loose blazer and the collarbones that looked like wings was gone. Bennett stopped replying altogether. I told him she was getting suspicious. Don’t mention her to me again, he texted back. She’s blind, Casey. What’s she going to do? I’m moving on. I suggest you do the same. My heart sank. I deleted the chat immediately. By the second month of her blindness, Bennett had officially ghosted her. Maisie knew. One afternoon, she threw her phone against the wall, shattering it into a dozen pieces. “He’s not coming back, is he?” she whispered. “He never loved me. Now that I’m broken, I’m just a chore.” “Don’t say that,” I said, my voice steady with a lie. “He’s just busy. He’ll be back for the holidays. He told me to tell you to take care of yourself.” She let out a harsh, cold laugh. “Liar.” “My sister saw his Instagram,” Maisie said, her voice dropping to a dead flat tone. “He’s in the Maldives with some blonde. He’s done with us.” She looked like a wounded animal, curled up on the massive king-sized bed. She buried her face in the pillows, her shoulders shaking. I kept lying. I told her the woman was just a friend, a business contact. I used my most honest, “good guy” voice to spin a web of comfort. She didn’t move. After a long silence, she uttered two words. “Get out.” I left, closing the door softly. Downstairs, Margot was reading. She didn’t look up. “She’s taking it well, I assume?” I nodded. Margot didn’t show a flicker of sympathy for her sister. Instead, a small, dark smile touched her lips. “I knew it would end this way. At least she wasn’t too deep in. I can’t believe she actually fell for a player like Bennett.” I felt a sudden need to defend him—or maybe the version of him I needed to believe in. “He’s not a player. He’s just… overwhelmed.” Margot shrugged, glancing at her useless legs. “I was going to make him fall for me, you know. Just to show Maisie how pathetic he was. But the idiot wanted both of us. He wanted a competition. And look what it cost—my legs and her eyes. A very bad investment.” She spoke about her own tragedy like a failed business merger. There was a cold, simmering rage beneath her words, directed at the ocean between her and the man who had caused this. She looked at me then, her eyes narrowing behind her frames. “You won’t be a ‘bad man,’ will you, Casey? My sister is fragile now. She can’t take another hit.” Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were like a predator’s. I felt a chill run down my spine. I shook my head, unable to find the words. 6 Summer storms in the Northeast are sudden and violent. Margot hated the rain, so she usually went to bed early. Around nine, I would have to carry her to bed. Her legs were still too weak to support her weight. In the beginning, it was awkward. I wasn’t the strongest guy, and she was tall. I’d have to hook her arm around my neck, her chin digging into my shoulder, and lift with everything I had. The first time I did it, she was stiff, her usual mask of politeness slipping into a look of pure disgust at our proximity. “I’m sorry,” I muttered as I tucked her in. “I know this isn’t ideal. We could hire a female nurse if—” “No,” she snapped. “This is fine.” That night, she made me scrub the mud out of the foyer rug until 3 AM as punishment for “clumsiness.” I learned. I became a machine. I learned to anticipate her needs—a pillow for her lower back, a glass of water the moment she cleared her throat. Once, she sat with her lips pressed thin, looking pained. I realized she needed the restroom but was too proud to ask. I brought her the medical basin and said softly, “I’ll empty it immediately. No one has to know.” She exploded. Her face turned a panicked shade of red. “What is wrong with you? Take me to the bathroom properly.” I was confused. I thought I was being helpful, minimizing the “shame” of being carried. But I did as she asked. When I put her back in bed, she looked at me with pure venom. “You’ll never get anything from me, Casey. You’re just the help. Remember that.” “I wasn’t looking for a bonus, Margot,” I said quietly. Tonight, it was pouring again. I finished putting Margot to bed and went to check on Maisie. Her room was empty. The balcony door was wide open, the curtains whipping in the wind like ghosts. Rain was spraying onto the hardwood floors. My heart hammered against my ribs. I ran to the railing, looking out into the darkness and the silver sheets of rain. 7 I grabbed a black umbrella and a slicker, making sure the front door was locked behind me. The estate was on the edge of the woods, isolated and dark. The streetlights along the driveway flickered, casting long, eerie shadows. I found her half a mile down the road. She hadn’t gone far. How could she? She was navigating by memory and the dull sensation of light against her clouded vision. She wasn’t trying to escape; she was just trying to feel something other than the suffocating silence of her room. She stood under a flickering streetlight, drenched. The orange glow hit the water on her face, making it look like she was melting. She looked small. Defeated. I walked up to her and held the umbrella over her head. I had to stand on my tiptoes to keep it high enough. “You’re not Bennett,” she whispered, her voice raw. “He’s never coming. Because I’m a freak now.” “Maisie, let’s go back.” “I called him,” she said, her voice shaking. “I heard a girl laughing in the background. He didn’t even realize it was me at first.” She let out a sob that was swallowed by the thunder. “I thought we were it. I thought racing him that night… I thought it was a game we were playing together.” “He’s probably just out with friends,” I lied, though the words tasted like ash. “The time difference, you know?” She laughed, a jagged, ugly sound. “How are you dumber than I am?” I didn’t answer. I just gently took her sleeve and began to lead her back toward the house. “When we get back, you need a hot shower,” I said. “I’ll dry your hair so you don’t get a headache.” She was silent for a long time. Then: “Do you remember the track meet in senior year? I tripped during the 400-meter. You and Bennett both ran toward me.” I remembered. I had been terrified. I’d reached out to ask if she was okay, if she needed the nurse. But Bennett had gotten there first. He’d laughed and asked, “How are we supposed to win now, princess?” Maisie had stood up, ignored my hand, and grinned at him. “Watch me win it anyway.” I had pulled my hand back and disappeared into the crowd. We reached the front door just as the rain began to taper off. Neither of us said another word. 8 After that night, a strange truce formed. Margot didn’t ask where Maisie had gone, and I didn’t tell her. I kept my head down. My real life was happening in the margins. I was a Sustainable Agriculture major. My dream was the Research Institute. I wanted to spend my life in a lab or a field, away from the toxic glitter of people like the Lins. I needed the money for my future—for a life where I didn’t have to carry anyone’s secrets. One afternoon, while pushing Margot through the garden, I found myself staring at the soil. It was rich, loamy. This would be perfect for potato cultivars, I thought. I was mentally drafting a paper on tissue culture when Margot snapped her fingers. “Casey? I’ve called your name three times.” “Sorry. I was thinking about my thesis.” She looked amused. “And what does someone like you study? Business? Hospitality?” “Vegetable Science,” I said. Margot actually laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, for once. It was genuine, bright, and musical. “You’re a nerd, aren’t you? A little farm boy buried in a scholarship.” “I want to increase crop yields,” I said, feeling a rare spark of pride. “I want to do something that actually matters.” She leaned back, her eyes softening behind her glasses. “I didn’t think people like you existed anymore. So earnest.” “Casey! Get up here!” Maisie’s voice drifted from the second-floor window. “I want you to read to me!” Ever since the rainstorm, Maisie couldn’t go ten minutes without calling for me if she knew I was with Margot. I started to head inside, but Margot grabbed my wrist. The warmth of her hand was startling. “Casey,” she said, her voice dropping the playfulness. “Don’t get ideas just because Maisie is clinging to you. Bennett was out of her league, but you… you’re not even in the game. Don’t let her convince you otherwise.” The invisible wall slammed back into place. My dream, my hard work—to her, it was all just a quaint hobby for the help. “I know my place, Margot,” I said, my voice cold. I pushed her inside and headed upstairs. Maisie was waiting, holding a lamp base, banging it against the railing like a drum. “Read to me! You left off in the middle of The Little Prince!” “Give him back, Maisie!” Margot shouted from downstairs. I felt like a chew toy being pulled between two bored predators. I went up to Maisie, but I could feel Margot’s eyes on my back the whole way up. 9 Five months in, the call came from my mother. They found a kidney for my father. But the donor’s family wanted a “gratitude gift”—a hundred thousand dollars under the table to cover their own debts. Plus the surgery, the recovery… we needed a hundred and thirty thousand. My mother was hysterical. “I asked Bennett’s father. He’s lending us thirty. I scraped together ten from the aunts. But we’re still sixty short. Casey, please. You work for those wealthy girls. Ask them. Beg them. Your father is running out of time.” I sat on the bathroom floor, the phone pressed to my ear, tears blurring my vision. How could I ask them? To them, sixty thousand was a handbag. To me, it was my father’s life. I checked my savings. I had thirty thousand from my salary. I just needed thirty more. I walked into the living room, my heart in my throat. I approached Margot first. “I… I was wondering if I could get an advance on my salary. For a few months. My father…” Margot didn’t even let me finish. She didn’t look up from her tablet. “The contract says monthly payments, Casey. No advances. It’s a professional boundary.” “But it’s an emergency. He needs a transplant.” She finally looked at me, her eyes icy. “That’s a very creative story. Is this the part where the loyal servant reveals his true colors? You’re just here for the payout, aren’t you?” I swallowed my sob and turned to Maisie, who was sitting nearby. I grabbed her hand. “Maisie, please. I’ve done everything for you. I just need a loan. I’ll work it off for free for a year.” Maisie wrenched her hand away as if I’d burned her. “So all that ‘kindness’ was just a setup for this? You were just waiting for the right moment to hit us up for cash?” I stood there, paralyzed. I did my job that night. I carried Margot to bed. I dried Maisie’s hair. We didn’t speak. I took a month’s leave. I sold my thesis. I had a paper that was almost ready for a major journal, a breakthrough in potato genetics. My advisor said it was my ticket to a Ph.D. I sold the data and the credit to a rich grad student who needed a win. It wasn’t enough. I begged. I knelt in front of the donor’s family. I gave them my ID, my student records, my soul. I promised them every cent I would ever earn. I still needed five thousand for the hospital fees. I walked down a dark alley in the city and dialed a number scrawled on the back of a bathroom stall. “I heard you pay for blood and plasma. Does the offer still stand for… more?”

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I was bonded to the Spite System. Every point of spite I provoked in others translated into a ten-thousand-dollar deposit in my bank account. It was Thanksgiving, the air thick with the smell of roasted turkey and the even thicker tension of family judgment. My Aunt Martha leaned back, a saccharine smile plastered on her face as she looked me up and down. “Sam, looks like you’ve been eating well. You’ve definitely… filled out since last year.” I smiled back, the picture of filial piety. “I could say the same, Auntie. You’ve really aged into your years. What is it now? Your seventieth birthday coming up? We should start looking at some nice assisted living brochures.” [Spite Value +10. $100,000 deposited.] My Aunt Linda immediately jumped into the fray, weaponizing her concern. “So, Sam, what are you doing for work these days? Are you even clearing fiftyk? Your cousin Chloe is making two hundred thousand a year now at her firm.” My eyes lit up with mock greed. “That’s incredible. Maybe she can Venmo me twenty thousand right now just to prove she’s actually got it?” [Spite Value +10. $100,000 deposited.] Chloe, who had spent her entire life looking down on me from her Designer-shod pedestal, let out a sharp, derisive snort. “What’s the point of having a smart mouth, Sam? You were born a loser, and you’ll die a pauper. Some people just don’t have the DNA for success.” I glanced at my phone. My balance was already ticking past the million-dollar mark. I leaned back and gave her a slow, steady wink. “You’d be surprised, Chloe. Having a smart mouth is actually paying off better than you’d think.” … Chloe couldn’t help but laugh, a jagged, ugly sound. “Honestly, Sam, does acting like a prick put food on the table?” She raised her voice, making sure the aunts and uncles hovering in the foyer could hear every word. “A loser is a loser. Stop trying to play the alpha.” She reached into her Prada bag and tossed a set of keys onto the coffee table with a heavy clunk. The BMW logo caught the light. “I just picked up the new 5 Series. Nothing crazy, just about seventy thousand after taxes.” As the relatives cooed and leaned in to admire the key fob, she turned to me with a look of pure pity. “But I guess seventy thousand is a number you won’t see in your bank account for the rest of your life, right?” She stood up, looming over me. “Tell you what. You give me a hundred bucks, and for the sake of ‘family,’ I’ll let your whole house walk outside and touch the hood. Maybe the success will rub off on you.” A ripple of cruel laughter went through the room. My parents stood by the kitchen island, their faces flushed with embarrassment. I felt a familiar ache in my chest seeing them like that. Ever since my Uncle George—Chloe’s dad—struck it rich in real estate years ago, they had treated us like a charity case they didn’t want to fund. It got worse after my dad broke his leg on a construction site. He lost his job, and suddenly, we weren’t just the ‘poor’ relatives; we were the ‘burden.’ They had spent years stepping on us just to feel taller. I looked at my seven-figure balance and then up at Chloe. I gave her a small, tight smile. “That’s a crazy coincidence,” I said. “I actually just ordered a new car myself. It should be arriving any minute.” Chloe looked at me like I had just claimed to be the King of England. “Oh my god, everyone! Prince Sam bought a car!” She spun around to the room. “Let’s get ready, everyone! Let’s see what Sam ‘ordered.’ What is it, Sam? A 2005 Honda with a taped-up bumper? A motorized scooter?” The laughter grew louder. Linda was practically slapping her knee. “Sam, honey, if you needed a bike to get to the grocery store, you could have just asked!” Right then, a low, guttural rumble vibrated through the front windows. It wasn’t the sound of a commuter car. It was the roar of a beast. The noise grew until it seemed to shake the very foundation of the house. Irritated, Chloe marched to the front door. “Who the hell is blocking the driveway?” She opened the door and froze. A custom Land Rover Defender, finished in a menacing matte Carpathian Grey, sat idling at the curb. It was massive, towering over Chloe’s BMW like a tank over a toy. The blacked-out wheels and the sheer presence of the thing made the entire suburban street look small. The relatives crowded behind her, breathless. “That’s at least a hundred and fifty thousand,” someone whispered. “Who in this neighborhood owns that?” “Now that is a real car. Makes that BMW look like a rental, doesn’t it?” Hearing the shift in the wind, Chloe’s face twisted. She screamed out toward the street, “Whose car is this? Don’t you know this is a private driveway?” I pushed my way through the crowd. “Excuse me. Out of the way, please.” Chloe saw me and found her target again. “What are you getting so excited for, Sam? You think the delivery guy is going to give you a ride, you pathetic—” She didn’t finish. A man in a crisp, tailored suit stepped out of the driver’s side, holding a leather-bound folder. He spotted me and beamed, jogging up the driveway. “Mr. Miller! Your custom Defender has arrived. We’ve handled the registration and the ceramic coating as requested. She’s all yours.” The silence that followed was absolute. Aunt Linda’s mouth was hanging open so wide I thought her jaw might unhinge. My parents were staring at me, their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and terror, as if they were waiting for the FBI to swarm the house. Chloe’s face went from a furious red to a sickly, pale white, then settled on a bruised shade of purple. I took the Montblanc pen from the dealer and signed the delivery slip with a flourish. When I took the heavy, weighted key, I made sure to jingle it right in front of Chloe’s nose. “You know, Chloe, you were right,” I said softly. “I really don’t have the DNA for a seventy-thousand-dollar car.” I paused, letting the smile reach my eyes. “I guess I’m just more of a two-hundred-thousand-dollar-car kind of guy.” Chloe’s throat worked, her neck veins popping as she tried to find words that wouldn’t come. In my mind, the system notifications were firing like a machine gun. [Spite Value +100] [Spite Value +100] [Spite Value +100] … Her resentment was a gold mine. It didn’t stop until it hit five thousand points. My bank balance jumped into eight-figure territory. I was feeling a high I couldn’t describe. I was about to twist the knife a little deeper when a sharp, authoritative throat-clear cut through the air. “Hmph.” It was Uncle George. He stood on the porch, looking down his nose at me. “Buying a car is a nice milestone for a young man, Sam. But one should learn to live within their means. Emptying your life savings just to play dress-up for an afternoon… it’s short-sighted. How are you going to pay the insurance? The gas? You’ve got no vision.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dark blue folder—the deed to a property. “Cars depreciate the moment they hit the asphalt, Sam. Real estate? That’s where the men are separated from the boys. Your perspective is still too small.” Chloe’s confidence flooded back instantly. She stood taller, her pale face regaining its arrogance. “My dad’s right,” she barked, her voice regaining its shrill edge. She snatched the deed and held it up for the neighbors to see. “Buying a car is cute. My dad just bought me a penthouse in the city. Four bedrooms, floor-to-ceiling glass. Six million dollars, cash.” She turned to my parents, her eyes glittering with malice. “Uncle David, Aunt Mary… I heard your roof is still leaking from the storm last month. Why haven’t you moved yet?” She mocked a look of realization. “Oh, right! Silly me. You probably spent your entire retirement fund just so Sam could pretend to be rich for a day!” My father’s head sank. The gray in his hair seemed more pronounced under the porch lights. His voice was a dry, shaking rasp. “It’s my fault. I haven’t provided enough for this family.” My mother’s eyes welled up. George and Chloe stood there, a united front of generational greed, thinking they had won the round. I reached out and squeezed my father’s trembling hand. With the other, I pulled out my phone and hit a contact on speaker. “Hello, Luxury Estates Group?” My voice was dead calm. “I’m looking at your listings. I want the largest, most expensive estate currently available in the Heights. I want a video tour. Now.” A professional, breathless female voice came through the speakers. “Sir, we have three off-market properties currently. The flagship is our ‘Aria Estate,’ but the budget is—” “I said the best and the most expensive,” I interrupted. The voice on the other end became audibly manic. “Yes, sir! Of course! The Aria is a twelve-thousand-square-foot manor. Infinity pool, private vineyard, six-car subterranean garage, and a detached guest house. The listing price is thirty-two million dollars.” A collective gasp rippled through the yard. Chloe burst out laughing. “Thirty-two million? Sam, you’ve lost your mind. If you sold your internal organs, you wouldn’t even cover the property taxes!” George shook his head, looking almost bored. “Stop it, kid. You’re embarrassing yourself. When the bubble bursts, it’s going to hurt.” I ignored them both. I looked at the video feed of the sprawling, white-stone mansion on my screen. “I’ll take it.” “Wonderful, Mr. Miller! I can schedule a viewing for tomorrow morning—” “No,” I said, my finger hovering over the screen. “I’m wiring the full amount now. Send the digital contracts.” “HAHAHAHA!” Chloe was doubled over. “He’s still acting! Check his pockets! He probably doesn’t even have forty bucks in his checking account!” I tapped the screen. Ding. The crisp chime of a completed wire transfer echoed in the quiet evening. The phone line went silent for three seconds. Then, the real estate agent’s voice came back, cracking with pure adrenaline. “Mr. Miller… the funds have cleared. My God. Congratulations, sir. You are officially the owner of the Aria Estate. We are sending a concierge car to pick you up for the keys immediately!” The laughter died in Chloe’s throat. Her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her skull. George dropped his scotch glass; it shattered on the porch, splashing expensive bourbon across his leather shoes. I looked at their ghostly faces and let out a small, mock-surprised “Oh.” “You know, Chloe, it’s impressive that you’re so successful, and yet you still have to rely on your daddy to buy you a place to live.” I gave her a sugary, devastating smile. “It must be hard, being a ‘grown-up’ and still living off an allowance. Unlike me. I’m just a guy who can buy his parents a manor on a whim. It’s a bit big for just the three of us, but I think we’ll manage.” The spite hit me like a tidal wave. [Spite Value +100] [Spite Value +100] [Spite Value +100] … I looked at my balance. I couldn’t stop smiling. The atmosphere in the family shifted overnight. The relatives who used to swarm George and Chloe were now hovering around us, bringing expensive wine, asking about my “investments,” trying to get their kids an internship at whatever “company” they thought I ran. George’s family went to ground. They avoided us, crossing the street when they saw our Land Rover coming. I thought that was the end of it. Until the post-holiday family brunch at George’s house. When we arrived, the dining room was already packed. There wasn’t a single empty chair at the massive mahogany table. George’s wife, Martha, sat at the head of the table. She looked up as we entered and tapped her forehead in mock forgetfulness. “Oh, look at my memory! I got so caught up in seating the important guests that I completely forgot you three were coming.” She gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “There’s no more room at the table. Why don’t you three just grab a plate and stand in the corner? We’re all family here; I’m sure you don’t mind.” The room went silent. The other relatives, sensing the shift, looked down at their plates, waiting for the explosion. My father’s face went pale. My mother gripped the strap of her purse until her knuckles turned white. I just shrugged. “Stand and eat? Sure. No problem.” And then, before anyone could blink, I stepped up onto the table. My boots landed right in the center of the white linen tablecloth. A platter of glazed ham was right by my feet. I leaned down, tore off a thick slice with my bare hand, and took a massive, savory bite. Standing on that table, I looked down at the row of stunned, frozen faces. I waved the ham at them. “What’s the matter? Dig in! It’s the holidays! Eat up, everyone!” [Spite Value +10] [Spite Value +10] [Spite Value +10] … “Get down from there!” George slammed his fist on the table, rattling the china. “Have you no decency?” I chewed slowly, blinking innocently. “You told us to stand and eat, Uncle George. I’m standing. I’m eating. I’m following the house rules.” George’s chest was heaving. Realizing he couldn’t outmaneuver me, he turned his fury on my father. “Look at this brat, David! Is this how you raised him? Like a common animal?” He pointed a shaking finger at my face. “I know the truth! He’s a fraud! He’s taken out massive predatory loans. He’s into the sharks for millions! If you don’t rein him in, he’s going to drag your whole family into the gutter!” Predatory loans? I felt a flash of confusion. Then I saw the looks of smug vindication on the relatives’ faces. Ah. They had convinced themselves that my money was borrowed. It was the only way they could sleep at night—believing that my downfall was just a matter of time. Chloe had a look of triumph on her face. She tapped her phone screen. “I have a friend who works at the bank, Sam. I had her run a soft check on your known accounts. They’re empty! No savings, no portfolios. That thirty million? It’s all debt, isn’t it?” She turned to my parents, her voice dripping with fake pity. “Uncle, Auntie… you poor things. You raised a narcissist. He’s going to be in prison by next Christmas, and you’ll be paying off his interest until the day you die.” My father swayed. My mother caught him, her face like paper. They looked at me, their eyes filled with a terrifying doubt. “Sam,” my father whispered. “Tell me the truth. Where did the money come from?” “Dad, Mom,” I said, looking them in the eye. “Trust me. That money is mine. Every cent is clean.” “Yours?” Chloe mocked. “Still lying even when you’re caught!” She stepped closer to the table, her eyes wild with a need to destroy me. “If you’re so rich, Sam, let’s settle this. Let’s go to the bank. Right now. In front of everyone. A full asset disclosure.” She puffed out her chest. “I’ll even make it fair. We won’t count the things my dad bought me. Just personal liquid savings. I’ve got over three million in my personal account.” The relatives let out a choreographed “wow.” “Three million! At her age?” “She’s a superstar. A real Miller.” Chloe basked in it. She pointed at me. “If you lose, Sam, you get on your knees. You apologize to every person in this room for being a fraud. And then,” her eyes turned vicious, “you walk through the neighborhood naked, wearing a sign that says ‘I AM A PARASITE.’” “Do you have the guts?” The room erupted. “Do it! Make him pay!” My parents were being crowded out. My mother was crying. But suddenly, my father stood tall. He pulled me back, putting himself between me and the vultures. “Sam said the money is his,” he said, his voice trembling but clear. “We believe him. But he’s already spent so much on us… he doesn’t need to prove anything to you people. We’re leaving.” My heart ached with pride. But I also felt a surge of cold anger. I knew my balance. After the car and the estate, I was down to my last two hundred thousand dollars in that specific account. If I agreed to the bet right now, I would lose. My hesitation was blood in the water. Chloe’s eyes lit up. “He’s scared! I was right! He’s probably already on a credit blacklist. He’s a deadbeat!” George hammered the table. “David, look at what you’ve produced! A disgrace to the name! You two must have done something truly cursed in a past life to end up with a son like this.” He shook his head, then looked at Chloe with sickening pride. “And then look at my Chloe. So successful. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to father such a winner.” A few sycophants laughed. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, George!” I stared at George’s smug, hypocritical face. The words just tumbled out. “The apple doesn’t fall far? Are you sure? Because looking at her, I’d say she fell from a completely different tree. Maybe one in the neighbor’s yard?” [Spite Value +10,000] [ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS deposited.] I froze. My brain stalled. I looked up, stunned, and saw Chloe’s face go a shade of white I’d never seen before. “Shut your damn mouth!” she screamed. “Are you in or out? Answer me!” Every eye was on me. I looked at her, then at George. My lips slowly curled into a wide, exhilarated grin. “I’m in,” I said. “And Chloe? Try not to cry when the truth comes out.” My mind was racing. George worshiped Chloe. She was his “legacy.” But that ten-thousand-point spike? That was massive. More spite than I’d ever generated with a single sentence. Was it possible… was the “neighbor’s yard” comment more than just a jab? I looked at them. Chloe had a high, thin nose and sharp lips. George had a flat bridge and thick, heavy features. I’d always assumed it was some recessive gene from her mother’s side. Now, everything looked… off. George had no idea. The way he looked at her was pure, unadulterated fatherly love. As the caravan of cars headed to the bank, I leaned in close to Chloe, whispering so only she could hear. “You don’t really look like him, do you, Chloe?” [Spite Value +100] She stiffened. Her eyes were murderous. I raised my hands, grinning. “Hey, just a joke! Don’t take it to heart.” “You’re a dead man, Sam,” she hissed, picking up her pace. I followed leisurely. “You seem tense. Did I hit a nerve?” Her jaw was twitching. “I’m going to ruin you.” [Spite Value +100] I stayed quiet until the bank doors were in sight. Then, one last time, I leaned in. “Is his name Bill? The guy across the street from your old house?” Thwack!

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After I was brought back to the Montgomery estate—the biological daughter finally reclaimed from a life of poverty—Tinsley, the girl who had spent twenty years living my life, took me on ninety-nine dates with her fiancé, Brooks Whitaker. Every single time, she would break down in tears, her voice a fragile whisper: “You’re the one who should be by his side, Brielle. I’m just an interloper. A fraud.” She made a performance of her guilt. She’d orchestrate moments to lock Brooks and me in the same room, or “accidentally” gift me the jewelry he’d bought for her. She even insisted I wear identical dresses to “test” his devotion. And every single time, Brooks chose her. Without hesitation. With a rock-solid certainty that seemed to feed Tinsley’s ego. Each time he picked her, she grew more radiant, her “sacrifices” becoming more theatrical, more taxing. It all came to a head on the hundredth occasion. Tinsley demanded that Brooks propose to her during a massive charity gala, streamed live to millions of followers. Under the blinding glare of the cameras, with the world watching, Tinsley played her final card. She sobbed, claimed she wasn’t worthy of his love, and fled the ballroom. By the time the stream hit its peak viewership, she was already on a flight to Paris. “Brooks, she’s the one you’re meant for,” she’d messaged him publicly, expecting the usual chase. She thought he would follow her across the Atlantic, a grand romantic gesture to prove his love for the hundredth time. But Brooks didn’t move. He stood on that stage, looking at the cameras, then at his cousins who were already snickering in the front row, waiting for the Whitaker heir to become a national laughingstock. He looked exhausted. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, a man who had finally reached his breaking point. He turned to me. “Brielle Montgomery,” he said, his voice weary but clear. “Will you marry me?” 1 I smiled as I let him slip that ten-carat pink diamond—the one meant for Tinsley—onto my finger. Amidst the stunned silence and the eventual, polite applause of the elite, I became Brooks Whitaker’s fiancée. Once the guests cleared out and the heavy silence of the ballroom settled around us, Brooks stared at his phone. It was a sea of red—missed calls and frantic texts from Tinsley that he wasn’t answering. “Brielle, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hollow. He didn’t look at me. “If you meet someone you actually love, tell me. We can end this whenever you want.” “The Whitakers will compensate you fairly for the trouble,” he continued, finally meeting my eyes. “But for now, we have to play the part. There are galas, dinners… my family is already on the edge with me. I can’t afford another scandal.” Tinsley’s “humility” had made Brooks a joke in the city one too many times. His parents were losing patience. If I hadn’t stepped up, he would have been the man stood up at his own televised proposal. I nodded, my expression a mask of gentle understanding. “It’s okay, Brooks. I’ll be exactly what you need until Tinsley comes back.” I lowered my gaze, playing the part of the sympathetic sister. “Don’t be too hard on her. She’s just… insecure. When she’s ready to come home, I’ll step aside. I know the Whitaker name belongs to her.” Brooks’ expression darkened at the mention of Tinsley’s flight, but it softened when he looked at me. He pulled out his phone and transferred five million dollars to my account—a “retainer” for my services. “If your parents hear from her,” he said, “let me know.” I nodded dutifully, then turned away. The second he was out of sight, I pulled out my phone and deleted the location pin Tinsley had sent me an hour ago. She wanted me to be her messenger. She wanted the thrill of being “found” in a Parisian café, a cinematic reunion to cap off her latest stunt. But I was the one with the ring now. And I’ve learned one thing from the streets she never had to walk: once you get your hands on something this valuable, you never, ever let it go. When I returned to the Montgomery mansion, the air was thick with tension. My parents were huddled on the sofa, frantically dialing Tinsley’s number. When they saw me, their faces didn’t light up with relief. Instead, there was a sharp, jagged edge of guilt in their eyes. “Brielle,” my father started, his voice strained. “You have to understand… Tinsley and Brooks grew up together. They’re soulmates. Today was just… damage control.” “Tinsley is a good girl,” my mother added, her voice trembling. “She’s always tried to give things back to you. She doesn’t owe you anything for the past.” The “past.” The fact that Tinsley’s biological mother had swapped us at birth, leaving me to rot in a damp, one-bedroom apartment with a couple who used me as a punching bag, while Tinsley grew up in silk sheets. My biological parents actually believed she didn’t owe me. The bias was so thick I could taste it. But I just offered them a small, sad smile. “I know, Mom. Dad. Don’t worry. I only did it to save the family’s reputation. I’ll take care of Brooks and his family until she’s ready. I’ll explain everything to the Whitakers so they aren’t mad at her.” They both let out a visible breath of relief. “Good girl,” my father said, patting my hand. “When Tinsley comes back, we’ll find you a nice husband. Someone from a quieter family. A simpler life will suit you better anyway.” I smiled politely and turned toward the stairs. Wait for her to come back? By the time Tinsley decides she’s finished her French holiday, I intend to be Mrs. Whitaker. 2 The next morning, I traded my Zara jeans for a structured Chanel-style suit and headed to the Whitaker estate. The Whitakers were old money—the kind that didn’t just have wealth, but a pedigree that went back generations. For the Montgomerys, this marriage was a golden ticket. It was the only reason my parents were so desperate to get Tinsley back in Brooks’ good graces. But why should she have the ticket? I arrived with a curated gift for Brooks’ grandmother, Evelyn. She was a woman of the old guard, a matriarch who valued grace and discretion above all else. My quiet, poised demeanor was a sharp contrast to Tinsley’s manic energy. Over the next few weeks, I became a fixture at the estate. I didn’t chase Brooks. Instead, I wove myself into the fabric of his life. I spent afternoons reading to Evelyn. I learned the exact way she liked her tea. I was there, a calm presence in the wreckage Tinsley had left behind. After seeing me at the house a few times, Brooks eventually asked me to accompany him to a corporate gala. He was nervous. I could see him watching me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for me to trip over a fork or say something “unrefined.” He’d spent years listening to Tinsley’s subtle barbs about my “unfortunate upbringing.” But I didn’t stumble. I navigated the room with a practiced ease that stunned him. I spoke when necessary, listened with intent, and moved through the crowd like I had been born into it. Brooks caught my eye under the chandelier light, a flicker of genuine surprise—and perhaps something else—softening his gaze. “Where did you learn all this?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. “Tinsley always mentioned that your… foster situation… didn’t exactly provide this kind of education.” Foster situation. I thought about the peeling wallpaper, the drafty windows, and the parents who only looked at me when they were angry. “I didn’t want to embarrass you, Brooks,” I said, looking up at him with just the right amount of vulnerability. “I’ve spent every night for the last six months with etiquette coaches. I knew I had a lot of ground to catch up on.” Brooks looked genuinely impressed. “In six months? You’re smarter than you let on, Brielle.” I didn’t tell him the truth. I didn’t tell him that the moment I stepped into the Montgomery house and saw Tinsley’s smirk as she “pitied” my lack of manners, I had made a vow. Everything she knew, I would know better. Everything she took for granted, I would master. “I just wanted to be worthy of the name,” I whispered. Brooks’ expression shifted. He reached into his pocket and handed me a black Centurion card. “We’re engaged,” he said firmly. “If you need anything—dresses, coaches, whatever—use this. You don’t have to ask.” I took the card with a shy, delighted smile. “Thank you, Brooks.” From that day on, the distance between us began to shrink. I didn’t overwhelm him. I brought him lunch at the office under the guise of “Evelyn’s orders.” I stood by his side at every boring board meeting and charity auction. I became his comfort. Two months in, the shift was undeniable. During a meeting with a high-level European delegation, their translator fell ill. Without missing a beat, I stepped in, my French fluent and flawless—another “hobby” I’d obsessed over in the dark of my old room. After the deal was signed, Brooks stared at me for a long time. “Brielle,” he said, his voice thick with a strange complexity. “You aren’t anything like I expected. You’re… remarkable.” He started looking at me then—not as a placeholder, but as a woman. He began inviting me to dinner, not for business, but just because. He brought back small gifts from his trips. Then came the night of the industry gala, where a drunken investor tried to get handsy with me in the hallway. Brooks didn’t just intervene; he was livid. He threw a punch that shocked everyone, himself included. Later, as I sat with him in the back of the car, I gripped his hand, my heart racing for a reason that wasn’t entirely act. “Brooks, you shouldn’t have,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m fine, really.” He pulled me closer, his head resting against my shoulder. I could hear his heart—the steady, thumping rhythm of a man who was finally anchored. “I’m not letting anyone touch what’s mine, Brielle.” And just as we were settling into this new, quiet reality, Tinsley—realizing the silence from Brooks was lasting far too long—finally “leaked” her location to him through a mutual friend. 3 She expected him to drop everything. She expected a grand romantic chase to Paris. But Brooks just stared at the address on his phone for a long time. Then, he put the phone face down on the table and asked me what I wanted for dessert. Tinsley was furious. Through our parents, she learned the truth: Brooks wasn’t pining. He was with me. She had been pampered her whole life; she didn’t know how to lose. She called the Whitaker estate, her voice screeching through the line, hurling insults at the “feudal, arranged-marriage relics” who were “trying to ruin her life.” “Brooks will never marry that girl!” she screamed. “He’s obsessed with me! Try to make him marry Brielle—he’ll die before he says ‘I do’!” It was Evelyn who picked up the phone. The shock of Tinsley’s vitriol, the sheer disrespect to the family she had spent ninety years building, sent the old woman into a cardiac event. She was rushed to the ICU. Brooks was a wreck. He had been raised by Evelyn while his parents traveled the world; she was his entire heart. As she lay there, pale and fragile, she gripped his hand and whispered her final wish. “Brooks… marry Brielle. I need to see you settled with someone kind. Someone who won’t tear this family apart.” That night, Brooks sat in the hospital chapel, the scent of wax and old stone heavy in the air. He didn’t call Tinsley. At dawn, he found me in the waiting room. “Brielle,” he said, his eyes bloodshot. “Let’s get married. For real.” The terms were staggering. Shares in Whitaker Holdings, a trust fund in the eight figures. “I’ve enjoyed these last few months,” he told me, his voice low. “I think… I think we have something real. I want to be a good husband to you. Will you have me?” I looked at him, seeing the man I had meticulously won over, and felt a surge of cold, hard triumph. “Yes, Brooks. Of course.” The wedding preparations began immediately. Tinsley, still in Paris, had no idea. She was waiting for her prince to storm the castle. Instead, her prince was at a tailor fitting a tuxedo for a wedding to her sister. She sent me one last taunting text: “Brielle, I gave you everything—the house, the parents, the fiancé. Are you enjoying my leftovers? Just remember: you’ll always be second best. No matter what you steal, you’ll never be me.” I didn’t reply. I just took a photo of myself in the mirror—draped in Vera Wang, glowing with the quiet confidence of a woman who had finally won—and sent it. Then, I blocked her. Tinsley’s favorite move had always been the “graceful retreat.” When I first arrived at the Montgomerys, she had “offered” to move out, even dramatically cutting her wrist in front of everyone to show how “burdened” she felt by my presence. My parents had spent a week coddling her, ignoring the girl who had actually suffered for twenty years. She used her “sacrifices” as a weapon to make sure my parents never loved me. She wanted to prove that even when she gave things up, she was the one who held the power. But she forgot one thing. People aren’t trophies. They are hearts, and hearts get tired of being played with. The wedding was hurried because of Evelyn’s health, but it was magnificent. The cream of society filled the cathedral. I stood at the altar, looking at Brooks. The officiant began: “Brooks Whitaker, do you take this woman…” “I—” Before he could finish, the heavy oak doors of the cathedral swung open. Tinsley stood there, draped in a white gown of her own, looking like a tragic heroine. “Brooks, stop! I won’t let you do this!”

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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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Everyone’s a Villain? My Secret Identity is Leaking. I was standing in the middle of a “Welcome Home” gala for a long-lost heiress when the comments started flickering across my vision like a glitch in the Matrix. [This girl is a disaster. To get back at the “fake” heiress, she actually stole the engagement heirloom? Talk about desperate.] [Even if she’s technically the “real” daughter, look at her. The hero has taste; he knows the “fake” sister is his true soulmate.] [What fiancée? She’s just a common thief. Someone kick her back to the slums where she belongs.] Maya Montgomery, the girl currently wearing a princess-cut gown and surrounded by the city’s elite, glided toward me. She looked like a dream—the kind of girl who’d never known a day of hunger in her life. “Sister, you’re finally home,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial honey. “Mom, Dad, and I have missed you so much. From now on, we’re a family.” I didn’t say a word. I just kept chewing on my buffalo wing. When I didn’t respond, Maya’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. With a practiced, sudden movement, she reached into my battered backpack and pulled out a diamond-encrusted women’s watch. “Why would you do this?” she sobbed, holding the watch up for everyone to see. “I know you’re bitter about being replaced, but you can’t just steal the engagement gift Harrison gave me! I wanted us to be sisters, but you’re a criminal!” Harrison Kent, the golden boy of the city’s tech scene and my supposed fiancé, stepped forward with a look of pure disgust. “Give it back to Maya right now, then get the hell out of this house.” Under the judgmental glares of the 1%, I looked up at the stage where my boss was currently clinking glasses with Maya’s father. I tilted my head, genuinely confused. “Steal what?” I asked. “I’m not here for a family reunion. I’m just here because my boss invited me for the free catering.” The comments went into a frenzy: [LMAO, too awkward! She’s not the daughter, she’s just an employee?!] 1 Maya’s eyes widened, her voice hitting a sharp, frantic pitch. “Employee? How could you be an employee!” She turned back to Harrison, the tears flowing even faster now. “Harrison, look at her! She’s still lying! She’s so jealous of everything I have that she’s invented this whole persona just to save face!” Harrison took a step closer, his tall shadow looming over me like a self-appointed judge. “Enough. Stop the act.” His tone was dripping with condescension. “Did you really think such a pathetic lie would work here?” I swallowed the last of my chicken, took a napkin, and wiped my mouth. This was getting ridiculous. My father is actually the wealthiest man in the state. However, because I work at his firm and hate being treated like a “nepo baby,” I keep my identity hidden and refer to him simply as “my boss” in public. When the Montgomerys invited him to this gala, he turned them down, citing his busy schedule. I was the one who wanted a change of pace, so I begged him to let me go in his place just to see how the other half lived—and to eat some high-end appetizers. I didn’t expect to become the main course of the drama. “Why would I be acting?” I asked calmly. “Mr. Montgomery invited my boss. My boss was busy, so he sent me. Is there a problem with that?” I met their eyes directly, refusing to flinch. The comments exploded again. [Lol, what a reach. “Sent her”? What kind of boss sends an entry-level employee to a private family gala?] [She’s just digging her own grave. Does she think playing dumb will help?] [She’s probably trying to imply her boss is more powerful than the Montgomerys. Delusional.] Maya caught onto my words, her face contorting into a mask of faux concern. “Sister, stop it. You look exactly like Mom and Dad. How could you not be my sister?” That one sentence silenced the room. Every eye settled on my face. Internally, I sighed. People with good genes tend to look alike. My father and mother are strikingly attractive people. Maya’s mother, Mrs. Montgomery, did share a passing resemblance to my own mother, but her aura was miles away from my mother’s grace. “Look at them! Everyone sees it!” Maya pointed at the whispering guests, a twisted sense of triumph in her voice. “You’re family. You’re the daughter who grew up in that trailer park! I know it’s a lot to take in, but you can’t let jealousy turn you into a thief!” Her rhetoric was flawless. First, she forced the “family” connection, then she branded me as the “trashy girl from the sticks,” and finally, she cemented the crime of theft. Harrison scoffed, his eyes burning with loathing. “Don’t waste your breath on her, Maya.” He pointed a finger at my chest. “Give the watch back, and get out. The Montgomerys don’t welcome thieves.” The socialites around us began to chirp like vultures. “So she’s the one from the country? No wonder she’s so classless.” “How embarrassing for the Montgomerys to have a daughter like this.” “Look at her outfit. Does that cost even fifty bucks? Of course she’d go for Maya’s watch.” I looked down at my work blazer. It was a company uniform, sure, but the quality was top-tier—my dad doesn’t skimp on his staff. I took a breath, trying to be the adult in the room. “First, this watch belongs to me. Second, you’ve got the wrong person. The ‘real’ daughter you’re looking for is probably out there somewhere, waiting for you.” I caught a glimpse of a movement in the corner of the ballroom. A thin girl in a server’s uniform was watching the scene with wide, terrified eyes. Her features were a 90% match for Mrs. Montgomery. 2 Harrison lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a bruising grip. “Give Maya her bag back! Don’t make me get physical.” A sharp pain shot up my arm, and I felt my temper flare. “Let go of me.” “It’s my watch,” I snapped. “Why would I give it to her?” [Whoa, she’s fighting back? The audacity of this girl!] [Harrison is so hot! Alpha energy! That’s how you handle a woman with no shame!] [Snatch the bag! Let’s see what else she’s pilfered!] I remembered my dad’s voice on the phone a few hours ago: “Ava, Arthur Montgomery is a bit of a social climber. I’ve never liked his vibe. Go there, see if their ‘family values’ are as solid as they claim, and just enjoy the food.” Well, Dad. The values are non-existent, and the vibe is toxic. Seeing that Harrison had me pinned, Maya grew bolder. she reached out to snatch my backpack. “Get off! This is my bag!” I struggled, twisting my other arm to shield my belongings. In the middle of the scuffle, a woman draped in diamonds and silk approached. It was Victoria Montgomery, Maya’s mother. She immediately pulled Maya into a protective embrace, as if I were a rabid animal. “Maya, darling, what’s happening?” She looked at me with cold, aristocratic disdain. “Mom!” Maya wailed, burying her face in Victoria’s shoulder. “She’s the one… the girl from the country! She stole the watch Harrison gave me, and now she’s attacking us!” Victoria’s expression shifted from confusion to pure vitriol. “So, it’s you.” She patted Maya’s back, her voice soothing for her daughter but venomous for me. “Oh, honey, of course she won’t admit it. Look at her. She reeks of desperation. She’s not fit to be a Montgomery.” She paused, raising her voice so the entire room could hear. “I see now. It was a mistake. The hospital must have been wrong. My Maya is the only daughter I need. As for you…” She pointed a manicured finger at me. “A creature who crawled out of the dirt shouldn’t expect to keep things that don’t belong to her. You’re delusional.” [Burn! Go Mrs. Montgomery!] [This is the reality check she needed. Know your place!] [The ‘fake’ is the real queen. Twenty years of breeding vs. blood—breeding wins every time!] I actually laughed. The absurdity was too much. “Mrs. Montgomery, you might want to watch your tone.” “On what grounds are you claiming I’m a thief? Or that I’m from the ‘dirt’?” Victoria blinked, stunned by my defiance. Her face turned a mottled purple. “You dare talk back to me?!” She turned to Harrison. “Harrison, why are you just standing there? Take what’s ours! I feel sick just looking at her.” Harrison took the cue, his grip tightening until I thought my bone might crack. “I’m not asking again. Give. Me. The. Bag.” “No!” The pain sparked a white-hot anger. I swung my leg and kicked him square in the shin. Harrison groaned, stumbling back, but he didn’t let go. Maya shrieked, “Oh my god! She’s violent! Harrison, she’s attacking you!” The entire ballroom felt like it was closing in on me. The whispers turned into a roar of condemnation. My dad was upstairs in the study, likely closing a deal with some high-level contact, completely unaware that his daughter was being lynched in the lobby. 3 Victoria watched Harrison stumble and her eyes turned murderous. She folded her arms, looking down at me as if I were a bug she was about to squash. “Shameless. And a brat to boot.” She addressed the crowd. “I apologize for the scene, everyone. We thought we were bringing home a long-lost relative, but it turns out we just invited a viper into our home.” With those words, my fate was sealed in the eyes of the guests. [Mrs. Montgomery is so poised. She’s handling this like a pro.] [By comparison, this girl looks like a street brawler.] [Call the cops already. Stop talking to her.] Harrison, bolstered by Victoria’s support, yanked my arm again, trying to drag me toward the corner. “You heard her! Give it back!” I lost my balance, stumbling into a table. Enough was enough. I used every ounce of strength to shove him away. “Don’t touch me!” Harrison wasn’t expecting me to fight back so hard. He crashed into a dessert table, sending a champagne tower wobbling. Maya saw her opening. With the timing of an Oscar-winner, she let out a theatrical gasp and threw herself backward. “Ah!” She didn’t hit the floor. She landed perfectly in Harrison’s arms. “You’re actually hitting people now?” Harrison roared, holding a ‘trembling’ Maya. Victoria was shaking with rage. “This is it! You ungrateful little peasant! We were going to give you a life, and this is how you repay us? Stealing, lying, and now assault? You’re a common thug!” I looked at this family of actors and felt a wave of nausea. “I hit someone? He put his hands on me first. That’s self-defense. I shoved him because he was trying to rob me.” I pointed at Maya. “And as for her? That fall was the fakest thing I’ve seen since her last Botox appointment.” “You!” Maya turned white. “Liar! I was terrified!” She huddled closer to Harrison. “Harrison, I’m so scared… she’s crazy… what if she has a knife?” Harrison’s eyes were filled with murderous intent. “Security!” he bellowed. “Where is security?!” “We have a thief and a violent trespasser! Get her out of here and call the police!” Two uniformed guards came running. Victoria added coldly, “Pin her down. Don’t let her run. When her ‘boss’ comes down from his meeting with my husband, I want him to see exactly what kind of trash he’s employing.” The guests parted, their faces filled with a sick kind of excitement. [Finally, the handcuffs! So satisfying!] [She needs to go to jail to learn a lesson.] [Let her rot! Make her pay for ruining the gala!] The guards closed in. I backed up until my spine hit a cold marble pillar. There was nowhere left to go. My heart sank. My dad was just a floor away, but he was being kept in the dark while his daughter was being humiliated. “Get her!” Harrison urged. A rough hand reached for my shoulder. I gritted my teeth and reached into my bag for my phone. If logic wouldn’t work, I’d have to call in the cavalry. I had to call my dad. 4 Just as I unlocked my screen to dial the number I knew by heart, a dark shape blurred in front of me. Smack! My phone was swatted out of my hand. It skidded across the polished floor, hitting a wall with a sickening crack. The screen shattered instantly. It was Harrison. “Looking to call for backup?” He sneered. “Who do you think you are? A thief from the gutter—who’s coming to save you? Even if your ‘boss’ shows up, what is he compared to the Montgomerys and the Kents?” My heart went cold. He’d cut off my only lifeline. [Good move! Shut her down!] [Let her feel the despair! Hahaha!] [Harrison is such a boss. This is how a real man protects his woman!] Maya leaned into Harrison’s chest, watching my face pale. She mouthed two words at me: You lose. Victoria folded her arms, gesturing to the guards. “Stop wasting time. Bind her hands. When the police get here, we’ll have the stolen goods and the witnesses. I want to see her try to lie her way out of a cell.” The guards moved in again, zip-ties in hand. I was pinned against the pillar, alone, surrounded by a sea of cold, mocking faces. Humiliation and fury bubbled in my chest. I had done nothing wrong, yet I was being treated like a criminal because I didn’t look the part. Why? Because I looked “poor”? Because I didn’t have their “status”? A hand grabbed my forearm, twisting it behind my back. I struggled, but I was no match for two trained men. The cold plastic of the zip-tie touched my skin. Harrison spoke, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. “Regretting it now? If you had just played nice and given the watch back, you could have slunk away with a little dignity.” Maya chimed in with her fake pity. “It’s true, sister. I didn’t want it to end like this. But you’re just so stubborn.” The guard yanked my arm harder, forcing me into a painful wince. “Ow—” Suddenly, a voice like a thunderclap erupted from the top of the grand staircase, vibrating through the very bones of the building. “STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM HER!”

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

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My husband couldn’t forget his “the one that got away.” Whenever he went to keep his terminally ill childhood sweetheart company, he would drop hints, asking if we could get a divorce. Because her dying wish was to legally be his wife. Today, he hinted at it again. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t cause a scene. I just calmly said, “Okay.” Because we had already had this exact conversation ninety-nine times. Today was the one hundredth. And I had finally found the perfect reason to convince myself to walk away. I had a miscarriage. Our baby was gone. Now, the only thing connecting him and me was a thin piece of paper—our marriage certificate.

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My neighbor, Brenda, worked late and asked if I could pick up her son, Timmy, along with my own kid from school. I didn’t think much of it. It was on my way, so I agreed. Who knew that just a few days later, her son would catch a cold, and she’d start bombarding my phone with texts. [My son definitely caught a cold on the ride home in your car. You need to take full responsibility.] [The medical bills are $500. From now on, we’re going to hire a private car service to drop him off, and you’re paying for that too. I’ll give you a discount, just send me $3,000.] I was so furious I immediately blocked her. She panicked, showed up at my office building with a giant protest banner, and started screaming that I harmed her son and was refusing to pay up. Without a second thought, I called the local psychiatric hospital: “Hello? My neighbor is suffering from a severe psychotic break. I really hope you can come take her in for treatment.” 1 That day, when I picked up my son, Leo, from school, he told me that Brenda’s kid, Timmy, had a fever and was taken to the hospital. They lived in the apartment building right across from ours, so I figured I’d put together a fruit basket and go check on him later. I was literally washing the fruit when my phone started blowing up with texts from Brenda. [Chloe, you are so incredibly malicious. I just asked you to pick up my son one time, and you actually made him catch a cold!] [Do you know how fragile my son’s health is?! Because of your negligence, my son is sick, and you must take full responsibility!] [If this leaves any lasting damage on his health, I’m never letting this go!] The next second, she sent me photos of Timmy’s hospital bills and test results. They had even done a CT scan of his brain. [You are paying for all his medical bills at the hospital. It totals $500. To make sure my child doesn’t get worse, you are going to hire a private car service to take him to and from school from now on. I won’t make you pay the full amount. I’ll give you a discount. Just Venmo me $3,000.] I stared at my phone, completely baffled. I had picked Timmy up four days ago. Plus, the temperature had dropped significantly lately; kids catching a cold was totally normal. I took a deep breath and replied: [Brenda, please calm down. I know you’re anxious because Timmy is sick. But you can’t just randomly push the blame onto me. You asked me for a favor, and I agreed because it was on my route. It’s been days, how can you possibly blame me?] Brenda stopped typing and just started sending voice memos, screaming at me. “What do you mean ‘randomly push the blame’?! My mom picked Timmy up the last two days, and there’s no way she let him get cold. She practically shields him with her own body! Colds have an incubation period. It was definitely your lack of care the day you picked him up that made him sick!” “Listen here, Chloe, don’t think you can weasel out of this. You are going to take full responsibility for my Timmy! I went through three years of IVF to have my precious baby boy! If he has any long-term effects from this cold, I will make you pay!” Lack of care? That day, I specifically turned the car heater on ahead of time and even brought a thermos of warm water for them. When we got to his building, his grandmother wasn’t home yet, so I didn’t even let him get out of the car. I stayed in the car with him and waited until his grandmother got back. I had gone above and beyond. Brenda saying this was incredibly insulting. [Brenda, you need to speak with a conscience. You asked for a favor, and I did my absolute best. Furthermore, the weather has been fluctuating wildly. It’s highly likely Timmy just caught a chill at your own house.] Brenda immediately started cursing: “Screw you! My entire family treats this boy like a prince. He only eats organic vegetables. From the day he was born, he hasn’t so much as sneezed! You take him in your car one time and he catches a cold. It’s obviously your fault! I’m telling you, you have to pay this money, otherwise, I am going to make your life a living hell!” She really was mentally ill. I replied: [I think Timmy isn’t the sick one here, you are! I was being nice by helping you pick up your kid, but no good deed goes unpunished. I don’t have time to argue with your delusions. Blocked!] After sending that, I blocked Brenda’s number. There was no reasoning with people like her. I handed the washed fruit to Leo. After this, I was going to cut all ties with her. But I never expected that the very next day, she would show up outside my office building with a massive protest banner. 2 I was in the middle of a meeting when I heard a commotion outside my office. Everyone was crowded around the floor-to-ceiling windows. My assistant ran in and said, “Bad news, Ms. Davis. There’s a woman downstairs with a banner claiming you harmed her son. Half the company is down there watching.” A woman? Could it be Brenda? I got up from my chair and looked down. Sure enough, it was Brenda. She had unfurled a massive banner right in front of the main entrance of our corporate building. It read: “CHLOE DAVIS HARMED MY SON AND REFUSES TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY. PEOPLE LIKE HER DON’T DESERVE TO LIVE!” She was holding a megaphone and screaming into it: “Chloe! Don’t think just because you blocked me I can’t do anything! I’m going to block the entrance to your company and make sure everyone sees exactly what kind of monster you are!” “You made my son sick, you refuse to pay his medical bills, and you won’t even apologize! Are you even human?!” The crowd of onlookers was growing. My assistant suggested I go down and handle it. I turned around, sat back in my chair, took out my phone, and called the local psychiatric hospital. “Hello? My neighbor is suffering from a severe psychotic break. I really hope you can come take her in for treatment.” Then I called the non-emergency police line: “Hi, there’s a mentally unstable person causing a disturbance outside our corporate building. Could you please send someone to handle it?” After making those two calls, I told everyone to sit back down so we could continue the meeting. But ten minutes later, Brenda’s screaming reached the executive floor. “Chloe! Don’t think you can hide from me! You are going to pay me for Timmy’s medical bills today! Also, even though Timmy is home, he needs to rest, so he can’t go to school for the next few days. I had to hire a private tutor, which costs $200 a day, until he’s fully recovered. On top of that, you have to pay for his nutritional supplements during this period. Just give me $5,000 for that.” “The weather is getting cold, and since he’s been sick, his immune system isn’t what it used to be. He definitely needs a private car service now. You’ll cover the first two months. Add all of that up, and you can just write me a check for $15,000.” Brenda was currently standing aggressively outside the conference room door. She had literally hung her banner on our glass door so everyone could see it. It was hilarious she could even say those words with a straight face. My best friend is a pediatrician, and she actually happened to be Timmy’s attending doctor. She told me Timmy just had a common cold with a slight fever. He was perfectly fine after getting some fluids that night. But Brenda refused to let him be discharged. She insisted he had “long-term effects” and dragged the poor kid through a full-body workup. Timmy was already tired from the cold, and all the unnecessary tests made him pass out from exhaustion. So, they kept him for one night for observation, but he was completely recovered now. Even then, Brenda threw a fit and refused to leave. The hospital director actually had to step in and have them escorted out. I scoffed coldly. “Your son is already home, which means he’s perfectly fine. Where do you get the nerve to demand this much money from me? Let me tell you right now, I am not giving you a single dime. Furthermore, I am currently in the middle of a very important business meeting. If you delay our company’s business, you will be held liable for the losses. Not much, just about $5 million.” When Brenda heard “$5 million,” her eyes bugged out. The next second, she spat at me. “Ptoey! You want me to pay you?! Keep dreaming! Right now, the most important thing is my son. My son is a future genius. His dream is to become a famous entrepreneur. He’s definitely going to be more successful than you! But now, because of the illness you gave him, his brain might be damaged, which means he might not become a famous entrepreneur! You have to take responsibility for that loss! Asking you for $15,000 is a bargain! Pay up right now!” 3 I just let out a cold laugh and didn’t bother replying. Seeing my indifferent attitude, she dramatically collapsed onto the floor and started wailing. “Look at this, everyone! This woman harmed my son and refuses to pay! Is there anyone more evil in this world?! I went through three years of IVF to have my son! What am I going to do if something happens to him?!” “Oh, my poor baby! You’re only in elementary school and you’ve already been poisoned by someone! What’s going to happen to your future?!” The way she was crying, you’d think her son had actually died. The people who had been watching downstairs had all migrated up to our floor. She was crying her lungs out. The onlookers were starting to look at me with increasingly unfriendly eyes, but since I was the General Manager, they didn’t dare say anything out loud. They just whispered among themselves. But wait, our building has security access. Who let her up here? While I was pondering this, my workplace nemesis, Sarah, walked over and started laying into me passive-aggressively. “Chloe, how can you be so malicious? You’re the General Manager; you should be setting an example. You’re a mother yourself. How could you harm someone else’s child? Children are a gift. Watch out, or karma is going to come for your own son.” Her lackeys immediately chimed in: “Vice President Sarah is right. Someone like this isn’t fit to be a General Manager. Who knows if she might harm us next!” Seeing someone take the lead, the crowd started speaking up: “I never expected GM Davis to be so vicious. You really can’t judge a book by its cover.” “That poor mother. GM Davis, hurry up and give her the money. Are you waiting to be struck by lightning?” “A child is a mother’s heart and soul. GM Davis really crossed the line here. I don’t think she’s qualified to be GM anymore. I think Sarah is a much better fit.” Hearing the praise, Sarah lifted her chin proudly. She stepped forward to help Brenda up, but she was still lecturing me. “Chloe, look how pitiful this mother is. Stop acting so high and mighty with your GM title. Don’t you have any sympathy?” I sneered. “If you have so much sympathy, why don’t you write her a check? It’s just $15,000. That’s nothing for a Vice President, right?” Sarah panicked. “Are you crazy, Chloe? You’re the one who harmed her kid. Why should I pay for you?! Everyone, don’t let her get away with this! We can’t stay silent just because her title is higher than ours! We have to bring her to justice!” At her rallying cry, the people around us started shouting: “Yeah! Give her the money! You’re both mothers, put yourself in her shoes!” “You’re a General Manager, don’t tell me you can’t afford $15,000.” Seeing everyone taking her side, Brenda cried even louder. “My poor baby! You were living such a happy life, and now this bitch made you sick! What if you have permanent side effects? Your whole life is ruined!” Sarah put on a show of holding Brenda’s hands. “It’s okay. Whatever happened, just tell us. I’ll take you to see the CEO. You can expose Chloe’s evil nature directly to him, and I guarantee she won’t survive in this company anymore.” Brenda, completely buying into it, started to follow her. Sarah thought I would be scared, but I had actually texted the CEO a long time ago. They hadn’t even taken two steps before they saw the CEO standing right there. He had witnessed everything that just happened. 4 Sarah immediately started sucking up to him. “Mr. CEO, look at this. Chloe hasn’t even been GM for that long, and she’s already brought this kind of scandal to our doorstep. It’s terrible for the company’s image. And look how pitiful this mother is. We’re all women, shouldn’t we be understanding of each other?” Brenda stepped forward and pointed a finger directly at the CEO. “Are you her boss? Then you need to make your employee pay me right now, or I’m going to expose you all online! Don’t blame me if your company’s reputation gets ruined.” Sarah chimed in: “Mr. CEO! We can’t let one bad apple like Chloe ruin our entire corporate image! I say we fire her immediately to set an example!” The CEO ignored Sarah and Brenda. Instead, he looked at me and said calmly, “Chloe, I’ll give you a chance to explain.” I calmly turned to Brenda. “You’ve been screaming for twenty minutes, but you still haven’t gotten to the point. What exactly did I do to make your son sick?” Brenda craned her neck and yelled, “He caught a cold!” The whispering in the crowd abruptly stopped. Even Sarah’s face changed. “My son hasn’t had a single fever since the day he was born! But 6 days ago, I had Chloe pick him up once, and yesterday he had a fever and was hospitalized! Isn’t that her fault?!” The more she spoke, the quieter the room got. Everyone was looking at Brenda like she was an absolute idiot. Gritting her teeth, Sarah stepped forward to salvage the situation. “A cold might be a minor thing, but if Chloe really caused it, she still needs to take responsibility.” Now Brenda was the one panicking. “My son catching a cold is NOT a minor thing! He’s going to go to an Ivy League school! One cold could impact his entire life! From the day he was born until now, that was the one night I wasn’t there to take care of him, and Chloe harmed him! You all have to give me justice!” Sarah finally realized that Brenda was a complete lunatic. She rolled her eyes and shut her mouth. The CEO turned to me. “Resolve this quickly, then come back to the meeting. You’re the only one who can handle this account.” With that, he turned and walked away without looking back. Sarah covered her face and tried to slip away, but I grabbed her arm. “Where are you going? I thought you were the champion of justice? Brenda is still waiting for you to get justice for her. You’re not going to go back on your word, are you?” Seeing Sarah trying to leave, Brenda grabbed her too. “You can’t leave! You promised you’d help me get justice! If you leave, I’ll expose you online too!” Sarah violently shook Brenda off. “Are you crazy?! A kid doesn’t die from catching a cold! I was trying to speak up for you, why are you coming after me?!” Brenda grabbed Sarah’s arm in a death grip, refusing to let her move. “What do you mean a kid doesn’t die from a cold?! My son had a fever of 99.5! And your CEO is gone, you’re the only Vice President left here! Who else am I supposed to talk to?! You spoke up for me, so you have to see this through! If Chloe won’t pay me, then I have to get it from you. It’s your fault for being her coworker.” Hearing this, I burst out laughing. Sarah had tried to use this opportunity to tear me down in front of the CEO, but ended up trapping herself instead. “Chloe! You started this mess! Fix it!” Sarah yelled. I mocked her. “Weren’t you going to bring me to justice? How can you say that? Brenda is waiting for you to preside over this.” Sarah was going insane. She yelled at her lackeys: “Are you all just going to stand there and watch?! Help me!” But everyone was terrified Brenda would latch onto them next. Nobody stepped forward to help Sarah; in fact, they all took several steps back.

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I think someone has been watching me lately. Every day, a strange, anonymous letter arrives in my mailbox, filled with the sender’s inner thoughts. At first, I thought someone had the wrong address, but things gradually took a sinister turn. The letters started mentioning details of my private life, and this person seemed to know me intimately. It felt as though… they were living in my house with me. 1 “The spicy beef stew you made this weekend looked delicious.” “Were you up late yesterday? Binge-watching a show or something? I saw your lights were on until 1:00 AM. Make sure you take care of your health.” “Haha, with a body as great as yours, it’s a shame to wear those childish kitten panties. This is what suits you best. Wear it for me after your shower tonight, okay?” Along with that letter came a set of sheer, provocative lingerie. I couldn’t take it anymore. Disgusted and terrified, I shredded the lingerie with scissors, threw it in the trash, and decided to quit my job and move. “Mr. Vance, this is my resignation letter. Please take a look,” I said. “What’s wrong?” Arthur Vance asked. He was my boss—young, successful, and someone I could learn a lot from. If it weren’t for this unknown creep stalking me, I would never have given up the opportunity to work at his company. “Um… I’m planning to move back to my hometown,” I lied. I had no intention of telling him the truth; the fewer people who knew, the better. In reality, the stalking had me terrified. This person seemed to know everything. If I made a scene and alerted them, they might become enraged, and my life could be in danger. Slipping away quietly was the best plan. “Alright, but I hope you can give us one week to hand over your projects smoothly.” I naturally agreed. I could use that time to find a new job and a new apartment in a different part of the city. What I didn’t know then was that this final week was about to turn my life upside down. 2 On the first day after I submitted my resignation, Mark Reynolds started acting strange. He was my co-worker, sitting right next to my cubicle, and was universally recognized as the office golden boy—handsome, charismatic, and highly competent. He started chatting with me constantly, almost as if he were trying to fish for information… He also began dropping not-so-subtle hints that he liked me. One day, when no one was looking, he explicitly slid his hand onto my thigh. “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked coldly, immediately rolling my chair far away from him. “Nothing. Maybe it’s because you’re leaving soon, but you look especially captivating today,” Mark smiled, and it made my skin crawl. “Are you out of your mind?” He completely ruined my mood. During lunch, I vented to two female co-workers about it, but they didn’t believe me at all. “What? Chloe, stop making things up. Mark is so nice to everyone, and he’s practically a saint. How could he possibly do that?” They exchanged a look, as if accusing me of trying to take advantage of the office heartthrob. They didn’t even bother to hide the disdain in their eyes. Right, I thought. I’m leaving anyway. There’s no need for them to pretend to be friendly anymore. It was chilling. They nonchalantly changed the subject, chatting away while I sat in silence. I finished my food quickly, made an excuse, and left. I had been at this company for almost a year, and we had always laughed and talked during lunch. I honestly thought we were friends. The very next day, rumors about me and Mark spread like wildfire through the office. They were saying that I was trying to hook up with him before I left. “Hey, did you hear? The real reason Chloe is quitting is because Mark rejected her. She got so mad she started spreading rumors that he touched her thigh!” Who was spreading these lies? When I saw the two girls I had lunch with whispering with a crowd in the breakroom—and noticing how they avoided eye contact with me all day—I knew exactly who it was. Riding on the privilege of his “nice guy” face, Mark grew even more smug. Using a voice only I could hear, he leaned in and said: “Those two girls came running to me yesterday, asking if I touched your thigh. Did you really think I’d admit it? You can see whose words carry more weight around here.” “If you had just been a good girl and let me feel you up, you wouldn’t be dealing with all this trash talk today.” I didn’t speak, nor did I look at him. I just kept a cold face and pounded aggressively on my keyboard. I knew clearly that no matter how angry I was, causing a scene right now was unwise, even though I wasn’t the one who started it. People only hear what they want to hear, and the more scandalous and dirty the gossip, the better. Looks like I’d just have to count the days until Friday. 3 I never expected my reputation to be entirely destroyed in my final week. It felt like everyone’s attitude toward me shifted overnight, all because Mark touched my thigh. On the bright side, the creepy stalker hadn’t sent another letter. I thought with bitter irony, This guy is surprisingly “considerate,” knowing I’m in a bad mood and choosing not to bother me. Fortunately, most of my projects were wrapping up and didn’t require much collaboration. I only needed Mr. Vance’s signature on a few things. He treated me exactly the same as always. When he heard the rumors, he even reprimanded the gossiping employees. “I know you’re not that kind of person,” he told me privately. Those few words moved me so much I almost cried. Because of that moment, a different, special kind of feeling began to bloom in my heart for him. With Arthur’s strict orders, no one dared to gossip openly anymore, though their eyes still darted away when I walked by. I pretended not to notice. Just having some peace and quiet was a blessing. On the fourth day after my resignation, my handover was mostly complete. I had found a new apartment to share with my best friend, Sarah, on the completely opposite side of the city. With thirty minutes left until clock-out, I opened a chat window on my computer to vent to Sarah about the week’s disasters. My neck was feeling stiff, so I stretched a little. As I tilted my head, my peripheral vision caught something that froze my blood. My heart practically stopped. Mark had turned his entire face toward me. His neck was craned forward, and he was staring dead-eyed at my computer screen. His gaze was hollow, completely devoid of focus. What… what the hell is that? Why is he looking like that? Has he always been staring at my screen? Why didn’t I notice before…? I didn’t dare turn my head to look at him directly, nor did I want to meet that dead stare. I pretended I hadn’t noticed, typed a quick, irrelevant message to Sarah, and closed the chat. When I finally gathered the courage to glance at him out of the corner of my eye, he was acting completely normal, as if nothing had happened. For a second, I thought I was just being paranoid and hallucinating. “Chloe, why do you always attract the weirdos? Haha, it’s okay! Once you move in with me this weekend, you won’t have to worry!” Sarah texted my phone. Whether it was a stress-induced hallucination or not, it was better to be safe. Seeing my best friend’s comforting words made me feel a lot better. Just a few more minutes until quitting time. Tomorrow was my last day. I just prayed nothing else would go wrong. 4 I came into the office today to pack up my desk, planning to leave before lunch. I was worried Mark might try something crazy again, but thankfully, he had called in sick. “Chloe, come here for a second,” Arthur called me into his office. “What is it, Mr. Vance?” “I see you only have one bag to take with you. On your way out, could you do me a favor and drop these two boxes in the back storage room? Also… this is a personal gift from me, to thank you for everything you’ve done for the company over the past year.” He pulled out a stunning, clearly expensive necklace. I wanted to decline, but the gift was exactly my style. I always loved wearing necklaces. After a moment of hesitation, I accepted it, planning to buy him a nice dinner and a return gift in the future. Besides, I had my own selfish motives. Maybe… this could lead to something more between us? “Thank you, Arthur. What kind of things do you like? I can’t just take a gift without giving one back.” He smiled and said we could talk about it later. Knowing he didn’t like to dawdle, I didn’t press the issue. I carried the two heavy boxes down the hall to the storage room and set them inside. Just as I was wondering what was so heavy inside them, the storage room door slammed shut behind me. The loud noise made me jump. I turned around and saw someone standing there. “Mark?” 5 “What… what is the meaning of this? What are you trying to do?” I asked, backing up. “I’ve liked you for a really long time. I was planning to reel you in slowly, but I didn’t expect you to leave so soon.” His eyes were bloodshot. He started taking off his jacket as he walked toward me. Seeing him like this, I knew I couldn’t provoke him. “Then… then why didn’t you just ask me out normally? You’re a great guy, I definitely would have given you a chance. Why do this? You’re just scaring me and pushing me away…” I pretended to be incredibly hurt, even squeezing out a few tears. In reality, my peripheral vision was frantically scanning the room for an escape route or a heavy object I could use as a weapon. Seeming to see right through me, Mark sneered maliciously: “Don’t waste your energy. The only way out of here is the door behind me. No one ever comes down to this storage room. Let’s get this over with quickly.” Seeing I wasn’t giving up, he added, “Oh, right, don’t even think about calling the cops. I specifically walked through the camera blind spots to get here. Besides, after the rumors this week, whose side do you think the company is going to take?” I had no other options. I screamed for help at the top of my lungs while backing away, praying someone would hear me. But it was too late! Mark lunged forward, grabbed me, and began violently tearing at my clothes. BANG! The storage room door was kicked open! Before Mark could even react, a fist slammed into his face. The punch was brutal. I couldn’t tell if it was just my imagination, but Arthur seemed to be taking out some serious personal rage. I didn’t overthink it, though. I was saved. I was overjoyed. Arthur stood tall, looking down at Mark groveling on the floor, holding a digital audio recorder in his hand. “Mark, you’re fired. Don’t bother showing up on Monday. Also, the audio from this recorder is going into the company-wide chat right now. Get the hell out of my building.” 6 “Arthur, you…” For a girl fighting to survive alone in a big city, how could my heart not flutter for a man who had protected me twice in a single week? “I was watching you leave from the upper floor and saw Mark hiding in the corner. Putting that together with the rumors he’s been spreading about you, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was up to no good.” He was watching me leave… Does he pay attention to me in secret too? Thinking about this, my schoolgirl crush was probably written all over my face. I couldn’t stop my lips from curving upward. Arthur laughed. “Alright, stop grinning like an idiot. Since you don’t work here anymore, you don’t have to call me Mr. Vance. Call me Arthur.” I remembered I had lied to him about moving back to my hometown. Seeing how I had kept my guard up against him made me feel guilty. “Um, actually, I didn’t quit because I’m moving back home. I quit because…” “It’s okay, I understand. People who resign always use ‘moving back home’ as an excuse. Let’s go grab lunch.” “But… it’s still working hours.” “I think you forgot something.” “What?” “I own the company!” Arthur laughed brightly. I had only ever seen his serious, professional side. I never realized how charming he was outside of work. I think I was falling in love with him. 7 After that incident, Arthur and I grew close. He naturally confessed his feelings to me, and we started dating. The honeymoon phase lasted for several months, and I moved out of Sarah’s place and into Arthur’s luxury apartment. Lately, however, he seemed incredibly busy. While he was just as gentle and attentive as always, something was clearly distracting him. Whenever I asked, he would just smile and say it was nothing. My intuition told me he was hiding something. While he was in the shower, I secretly opened his phone. I was pinned to the top of his messages. The rest were just standard work chats—nothing suspicious. Just as I was convincing myself I was being paranoid, a text from an unsaved number popped up: Meet me at the old place tonight. My heart dropped. I put the phone back exactly where I found it. After forcing myself to calm down, I decided to follow him. If I caught him cheating red-handed, I’d dump him on the spot. “Chloe, I have to handle an emergency at work. I’ll be sleeping late tonight,” he said, smiling as he patted my head. I was stunned. How could he be so calm right before doing something so slimy? This obviously wasn’t his first time. But I smiled and nodded, wearing my usual pajamas to avoid raising suspicion. The moment the front door closed, I threw on my coat and shoes. I was ready. We lived on the ninth floor. Through the peephole, I saw the elevator pass the seventh floor. I opened the door and bolted down the stairwell. Watching his retreating back from a distance, I had fully prepared myself mentally to beat him and his mistress up, then run out of the hotel crying.

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My stepmother is a notorious “black widow.” Rumor has it she cursed her two ex-husbands to death—and then my dad. The moment my dad died, she didn’t hesitate; she had him cremated immediately. When my dad’s mistress showed up with her son to demand a share of the inheritance, they were completely dumbfounded. My stepmother was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, beaming from ear to ear, counting stacks of cash. “I’m rich! I couldn’t spend all this money in a lifetime.” I hid behind the dining table, too terrified to make a sound. My relatives came running, wanting to adopt me. While I was hesitating… A string of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Is the plot starting already? The female lead is going to be taken in by her relatives and tortured! I can’t wait!] [These relatives have black hearts. Once they get her inheritance, they’re going to sell her to some remote mountain village.] [So what? The male lead will make up for all her childhood suffering with his love later! A pure white flower growing in adversity, meeting her savior when she grows up… OTP!] Me: ??? What kind of tragic female lead gets a story like that? Is it too late to cling to my stepmother for dear life? 1 Not too long ago, my dad married a new wife. I hid in the shadows, watching this newly minted stepmother. She was stunning—bright, charming, and delicate. I finally understood why my dad married her. Even knowing the rumors that she cursed her two previous husbands to death, he still went ahead with it. Just for that face, he probably thought it was worth it. These men all thought they were the victors, the ones who finally tamed the beauty. Unfortunately, they all ended up dead. My dad, in fact, died a mere two months after the wedding. Some suspected my stepmother was behind it, but no one could find a shred of evidence. They could only attribute it to the supernatural. They said my stepmother was too toxic, born under a cursed star—anyone who touched her died. The very day my dad died, several women showed up at our door with their kids, demanding their share of the inheritance. My stepmother, having clearly won the championship of domestic warfare against these types, unleashed her full firepower. “Uncle Wang, throw these filthy things out!” Cutting off someone’s money is like killing their parents; how could these women just let it go? My stepmother looked delicate, but her words were razor-sharp. She brought out my dad’s urn. “Oh, look, he’s already burned to ash! Guess we can’t do a paternity test now. But hey, you can always go down there and look for him yourselves!” The women burst into tears. “Are you even human? Liangping’s body wasn’t even cold before you had him cremated!” My stepmother smiled sweetly. “I touched him. He was cold. Ice cold.” That smile sent shivers down my spine. I silently scooted a little further away. Eventually, the crying and screaming women and children were dragged out by the bodyguards. My stepmother lounged comfortably on the sofa, in a fantastic mood, pouring herself a glass of red wine. “I’m rich! I couldn’t spend all this money in a lifetime.” “Shame about the extra baggage, though.” I watched her, smiling one second and frowning the next, completely too scared to make a peep. She seemed to think I was a burden. Was I going to be homeless? Thank goodness I had my uncle, who had doted on me since my mom passed away. He had said just yesterday that he was going to take me away. A short while later, my uncle and aunt arrived. My aunt had cried the whole way there; her eyes were red. “Yinyin, why did your parents have to leave so early?” “Poor Yinyin, a little girl with no parents… what is she going to do now?” My uncle patted my head, looking heartbroken. “Poor child. You’ll come live with your uncle and aunt from now on.” They looked at me with such genuine affection. I snuck a peek at my stepmother. She didn’t look like she wanted to keep me around. Everyone said she was evil, but I hadn’t felt it. To her, I was just a stranger, exactly like I was to my dad. The scales in my heart were slowly tipping toward my uncle. Just as I was about to speak… A string of floating text suddenly materialized in the air before me. [Is the plot starting already? The female lead is going to be taken in by her relatives and tortured! I can’t wait!] [These relatives have black hearts. Once they get her inheritance, they’re going to sell her to some remote mountain village.] [So what? The male lead will make up for all her childhood suffering with his love later! A pure white flower growing in adversity, meeting her savior when she grows up… OTP!] [This evil stepmother doesn’t look like a saint either. She probably can’t wait to throw the female lead as far away as possible.] 2 I didn’t understand all the words. What’s a “male lead”? What’s a “pure white flower”? Seeing that I hadn’t moved, my uncle and aunt’s tone turned impatient. “Yinyin? Your aunt is talking to you!” Were the “relatives” mentioned in the floating text my uncle and aunt? Would they really sell me? I started to hesitate, unable to make up my mind. My uncle made the decision for me. “Alright, you take Yinyin. I’ll go talk to Chloe about this.” Ignoring my resistance, my aunt grabbed my arm and forcefully dragged me toward the door. I burst into helpless tears. My stepmother stood up, looking annoyed. “What, trying to kidnap a child in my own house?” Like grasping at a life preserver, I wrenched my hand free from my aunt’s grasp and ran toward my stepmother. Before I could even touch her sleeve, she dodged me with a look of disgust. Twisting my fingers together, I finally called out that word: “Mom… I don’t want to go with them.” It was the first time I had ever called her Mom. A look of surprise flashed across my stepmother’s face. She was speechless for a moment. “You…” My uncle grabbed my arm again, talking over me to my stepmother. “The kid is just throwing a tantrum. She’ll be fine once we get her home.” He turned and glared at me fiercely. “Both your parents are dead! I’m your closest relative. If you don’t come with me, who else are you going to go with?” “Stop annoying your mother and come with us right now.” In that moment, I started to believe the strange floating words. Maybe they really were going to take me away and sell me. I looked up at my stepmother with pleading eyes. She was my last hope. My stepmother ignored the man’s words. She looked down at me from her imposing height. “Have you thought this through? If you stay, you’re my daughter from now on.” “And you’ll be responsible for taking care of me when I’m old.” I hesitated, then nodded. My stepmother shot a cold glare at my uncle. “Did you see that? She doesn’t want to go with you.” My uncle let out a dry laugh. “You’re still young. You can have your own children later.” “This kid is skinny, scrawny, and not very bright. Keeping her around will only cause you grief.” My stepmother scoffed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re scheming. I am her legal guardian now. Without my permission, no one is taking her anywhere.” Seeing her firm stance and the bodyguards standing at the door, my uncle didn’t dare force the issue. He probed tentatively, “Um, didn’t her father leave a sizable inheritance? We could help her manage it, so she doesn’t waste it.” My stepmother nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Oh, yes. Lots and lots of money.” Seeing their eyes light up with greed, she added, “But it’s none of your business.” That really ticked them off. Just as my uncle was about to lunge forward… The bodyguards sprang into action, lifting the two of them up and tossing them out. The floating text reappeared: [Wait, why is the plot changing? Is the evil stepmother actually going to raise the female lead?] [Ahhh! What about my male lead?! The female lead was supposed to be sold to the mountains by her aunt and meet the kidnapped male lead!] [Maybe the stepmother is going to sell her instead! Don’t panic guys, let’s wait and see.] 3 After my uncle and aunt made that scene, even though I was young, I realized they weren’t good people. If I couldn’t trust them, who could I trust? My stepmother? Would she really sell me, like the floating text said? After my uncle left, I tried to make myself as small and invisible as possible around the house, hoping she wouldn’t notice me. I was terrified that one day she’d remember me, decide I ate too much, and sell me off to the mountains. But she seemed very busy and I barely saw her for days. I breathed a sigh of relief. One day, while I was sneaking around the kitchen looking for food, her voice suddenly rang out. “What are you looking for? Have you eaten?” I clutched the hem of my shirt and whispered timidly, “I ate, Aunt Chloe.” “You little brat. When you need something, it’s ‘Mom,’ but when you don’t, it’s ‘Aunt Chloe,’ huh?” She scoffed, sounding displeased. “I was busy the last few days. How have you been eating?” How had I been eating? The same as usual, of course. Whatever the maids left over was my food. I told her the truth. She opened the fridge, looked at the leftover chicken bones inside, and frowned. “So, this is what you usually eat?” I nodded. What else was there to eat? I was just the lucky one out of all my dad’s illegitimate children to actually be brought home. And only because my mother got sick and died, leaving me with no one to care for me. After my dad brought me home, he completely ignored me and rarely came back. I was utterly forgotten in a corner. The maids were shrewd. Seeing how my dad treated me, they started giving me the cold shoulder too. If I was lucky, I’d get leftovers. More often than not, I’d go hungry for the entire day. After a long silence, my stepmother muttered a curse word I didn’t understand, then summoned all the staff in the villa. She announced in front of everyone: “What is their status, and what is your status?” “As my daughter, you eat leftovers? If word got out, I’d be a laughingstock.” “Elena, look at these maids. Point out whoever bullied you.” 4 The next day, all the maids I pointed out were gone, replaced by a fresh batch of young college students working part-time. My stepmother said college students were cheaper, competitive, and worked harder. And the government encouraged hiring them. I didn’t really understand. Until I saw the floors being mopped three times a day and the dining table covered in a rotating array of gourmet meals. Then I started to get the picture. I sat carefully at the dining table, smelling the aroma of fresh food, not daring to pick up my chopsticks. My stepmother, resting her head on one hand, pushed the food toward me. “Finish all of this. You’re not allowed to leave until you do.” I gulped. Was this real life? I put on a performance of inhaling the food like a vacuum cleaner, which made her frown deeply. “You have to eat like this from now on. Otherwise, people will think I’m a wicked stepmother starving you.” I nodded enthusiastically while chewing. After I was full and satisfied, the floating text appeared again. [What is the evil stepmother doing? Fattening up the daughter to sell her for a better price?] [This plot twist is brilliant! Letting the female lead experience warmth before brutally abandoning her—the emotional damage will be even greater!] [Look at this little dumpling of a female lead, she’s so obedient! No wonder so many men fall for her when she grows up.] My stepmother leaned back, stretching lazily. “Stop sleeping in that doghouse. It doesn’t even look fit for human habitation.” “I had a room cleared out for you upstairs. You’re moving up to my floor.” The way she paused between sentences nearly gave me a heart attack. Her last sentence sent my heart straight into my throat. I couldn’t help but think of the floating text that had just flashed by. Was it true? Was she really going to fatten me up just to sell me? … I spent the entire summer break walking on eggshells. Finally, the first day of school arrived. Thanks to my stepmother’s constant feeding, my health had improved drastically, and my cheeks had even developed a bit of baby fat. My stepmother loved it. She couldn’t keep her hands off my face, pinching my cheeks every day. I didn’t dare get angry, nor did I dare complain. When I got to school, everyone noticed the massive change in me. The skinny, scrawny girl had transformed into a pale, clean, squishy dumpling. I was even wearing a brand-new dress. I sat down at my desk, and the girl behind me, Jessica, kicked the back of my foot hard. “Elena, where’s my stuff?” I knew she was asking for her summer homework. I kept my head down, not daring to speak. My summer homework had been torn to shreds by one of the maids who used to bully me, along with Jessica’s copy. Seeing that I didn’t have it, Jessica started kicking my calves frantically. “Just wait until after school!” Ultimately, because I couldn’t hand in my homework, the teacher singled me out and made me stand in the back of the classroom as punishment. Because Jessica’s family had money and power, the teacher turned a blind eye to her behavior, pretending not to notice. After school, to avoid her, I specifically took the side exit. But I was still caught. Jessica and her gang surrounded me, dragging and pulling me toward the restrooms. This restroom was secluded, and rarely did anyone go there. Even if someone saw, no one would dare speak up. Jessica kicked me in the chest and shoved my head into the sink. “You motherless freak! How dare you not do what I tell you to do?” “You must have a death wish!” With that, the group took turns punching and kicking me until I was too weak to fight back. They were smart; they only aimed for places covered by my clothes. That way, no one would notice anything wrong with me. I lay weakly on the ground, trembling from the pain. “I’ll let you off this time. If this happens again, I’ll have someone kill you!” … [The evil supporting female character is this ruthless even as a kid? I love the ‘mean girl’ persona!] [The plot was getting way too derailed before, but it’s finally getting back on track.] [The female lead doesn’t even fight back when she’s beaten! She knows no one will come to save her. She’s so pitiful!] Things like this happened every week. Any resistance from me only resulted in worse retaliation. A flicker of confusion crossed my face. It seemed like no one was really going to come and save me.

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