1 After being bound to the “Manipulative Social Climber System,” I became a self-taught master of all eighteen arts of manipulation. Yet, my target was a connoisseur of cunning, a master at spotting manipulative acts. All ninety-nine of my attempts failed. At the Caldwell family gala, Arthur Caldwell, the prince of New York society, once again precisely saw through my scheme. He knocked the drugged wine glass from my hand, his voice sharp: “I’ve seen plenty of calculating women like you. Take my advice, don’t waste your energy. Anything you’ve touched, I find disgusting just to look at.” Yet, he was easily swayed by a holier-than-thou act, completely losing his head over a seemingly pure woman. I smiled, furious, and promptly changed my targets. Later, when the entire Caldwell family was fiercely vying for my attention, Arthur was the only one who pointed at me, screaming in frustration: “Can’t you all see she’s just a manipulative fraud?!” The entire Caldwell family stood in front of me, saying in unison: “She’s no manipulative fraud, she’s our little darling.” … The system instantly blared a sharp warning: 【How dare you change your targets without permission? And you picked a whole bunch at once!】 【Arthur Caldwell’s father, his mother, his sister.】 【Oh my god, how about the Caldwell family’s ninety-year-old Grand Matriarch?!】 I spoke with righteous indignation: “If I can’t complete the mission to climb the social ladder in an elite family, I’ll die on the spot anyway.” “This is my last chance, so of course, I have to cast a wider net.” The thought made my teeth ache. I had initially believed that with my perfected manipulative skills, securing Arthur Caldwell would be a piece of cake. Unexpectedly, I failed ninety-nine times. The man was impervious to my charm. Feigning accidental encounters, playing the victim, orchestrating life-saving moments, “accidentally” ending up in his room… Every trick turned into a joke in front of him. He could instantly tell I was a top-tier manipulator. I once thought he was the legendary ultimate challenge in seduction. Until I saw another woman, with far cruder tactics, look down her nose at him and declare, “Get lost. Don’t think being rich makes you special.” Arthur’s eyes, usually like still water, instantly lit up with astonishing brilliance. “Woman, you have successfully captured my attention.” At that moment, it hit me like a revelation. It wasn’t that my methods weren’t sophisticated enough. It was that this socialite prince had never experienced anything truly refined. I patiently explained to the system: “There’s more than one path to securing a place in high society.” “If I can’t be Arthur Caldwell’s wife, I can be his stepmother, his sister, or a close confidante to his great-grandmother.” Just then, distracted, I accidentally bumped into someone around a corner. “Ouch.” I stumbled backward, nearly falling to the ground. However, a distinctly familiar sneer reached my ears: “Scarlett Davies, are you faking a fall again?” I looked up. Arthur Caldwell stood before me, beside him Audrey Windsor, her face aloof, as if untouched by worldly concerns. Arthur tilted his head, his voice laced with disdain, “Save your energy. Don’t try any tricks to seduce me.” Seeing it was the prince and his pure-hearted darling, my face instantly fell, and I simply wanted to turn and leave. But Arthur grabbed me. “You bumped into someone and didn’t even apologize? Still planning to leave?” I rolled my eyes. Who bumped into whom? Just as I was about to retort, the system’s voice chimed: 【Host, attention, first target has appeared.】 I instinctively looked behind me. A young woman was walking down the stairs. She bore a seven-tenths resemblance to Arthur, but her demeanor was more composed and refined. It was Vivian Caldwell, the eldest daughter of the Caldwell family. In a flash, my mind raced. Suddenly, following the direction of Arthur’s pull, I leaned gently towards him, feigning weakness. “Alright, I apologize, Mr. Caldwell. Please don’t be angry.” Arthur was momentarily stunned by my sudden move. Then, as if he’d touched something disgusting, he abruptly shoved me away. “Scarlett Davies, get away from me!” That push was exactly what I was waiting for. I spun around and fell to the floor. My eyes instantly welled up, and my voice, thick with feigned sweetness, filled the room: “Mr. Caldwell, I’m so sorry. I was too clumsy. It’s all my fault. Please don’t hit me.” Arthur’s face flushed with anger. “What? Who’s hitting you? Get up!” He bent down, intending to forcibly pull me up, but just as he touched my arm— “Arthur Caldwell, stop right there!” An angry female voice rang out. 2 Seeing the newcomer, Arthur instantly reined in his fiery temper. “Vivian, what are you doing here?” Vivian Caldwell, heels clicking, approached. “If I hadn’t come, how would I have known you’re so domineering out here?” “I wasn’t!” Arthur immediately retorted. “She’s staging it all herself!” Before he could finish, I had already flung myself into Vivian’s arms, sobbing softly. “Sister, it’s true, I just tripped and fell. It’s not Mr. Caldwell’s fault. He… he didn’t bully me.” Vivian looked down at me. My eyes and nose were red, tears glistening but not yet falling, and though clearly scared, I was still defending Arthur. A soft spot in her heart gently melted. 【Target Vivian Caldwell affinity score: 30.】 “Don’t be afraid.” Vivian patted my hand, then turned to Arthur and said coldly, “Apologize.” Arthur was absolutely furious. He reached out to grab me. “You manipulative fraud, get out of my sister’s arms!” “You dare bully someone right in front of me?” Vivian shielded me, her face hardening. I quickly stepped between them. “Sister, please don’t argue with Mr. Caldwell because of me. It’s okay if I suffer a little.” 【Target affinity score: 40.】 Vivian’s gaze lingered on my face. The more she looked, the more she found this girl well-behaved and sensible, utterly unlike her rogue younger brother. Just then, Audrey Windsor, who had been ignored, finally spoke, carrying an air of holier-than-thou arrogance. “Ms. Caldwell, you’ve come in and immediately taken sides, jumping to conclusions without understanding the full situation.” “No wonder Arthur always says he doesn’t like you as a sister.” Vivian’s brow furrowed abruptly. Seeing that she seemed about to press further, I quickly interjected: “That’s not true! Sister is clearly so kind, how can you try to drive a wedge between her and Mr. Caldwell?” Vivian’s heart suddenly warmed. She looked back at Audrey, her gaze now scrutinizing. “Who are you? Our Caldwell family matters are none of your business to dictate.” Arthur quickly stepped forward. “Vivian, Audrey is my girlfriend. While she might speak her mind, she’s very innocent, unlike some gold-diggers full of schemes.” He pointedly glanced at me. “Don’t let her trick you.” Vivian scoffed. Her gaze critically swept over Audrey. Dressed in the season’s latest limited edition, carrying a bag that could equal an average person’s annual salary – all likely gifts from her foolish brother. And she had the nerve to call someone else a gold-digger? “This girlfriend you’ve brought back,” Vivian said, her voice laced with sarcasm, “doesn’t seem like a simple character either.” Audrey’s face instantly went ashen, as if she had suffered a profound humiliation. “I knew it! You rich people all look down on me!” With that, she turned and ran. “Audrey!” Arthur anxiously chased after her, casting a furious glare at Vivian before he left. “Vivian, this is all your doing!” Vivian watched her brother’s unhesitating retreat, a flicker of melancholy in her eyes. “This brother of mine, he’s really becoming less and less close to me.” I stood quietly beside her. I’d long heard that Vivian Caldwell possessed exceptional abilities, and there was an intention to groom her as the family’s successor. My voice was soft. “Mr. Caldwell is still young and foolish. He doesn’t see how much effort Sister has poured into this family, and into him.” “The fact that Sister is still willing to guide and teach him now already makes her the best sister in the world.” I lifted my face, revealing undisguised admiration. “If I had such a wonderful sister, I’d wake up smiling every day. I’d constantly be by Sister’s side. If Sister told me to go east, I’d never even glance west.” Vivian paused, then laughed aloud, much of her earlier irritation dissipating. Her gaze towards me visibly softened. “You can stay with me at the gala today. It’ll save you from being bullied by that rascal again.” I nodded obediently, following close by Vivian’s side, my affinity score rising to 70. Just as I was about to press my advantage, the system alert chimed urgently again. 【Attention, target two and target three have appeared.】 I immediately looked up. Vivian by my side had already quickened her pace, respectfully greeting the distinguished middle-aged couple ahead. “Dad, Mom, you’re here.” 3 On the left, a man of commanding presence. On the right, a graceful, elegant woman. These were Arthur Caldwell’s parents. Mrs. Caldwell’s gaze immediately fell on me. “And who is this?” Vivian was momentarily speechless, unsure how to introduce this poor girl who had been bullied by her brother. I immediately stepped half a pace forward, my voice sweet and gentle. “Hello, Uncle and Auntie. My name is Scarlett Davies, and I’m Vivian’s friend.” I made no mention of the earlier conflict with Arthur. Vivian gave me a grateful look. “Vivian rarely brings friends home,” Mrs. Caldwell’s smile grew even warmer. “I can tell you must be a good child.” Mrs. Caldwell’s initial affinity score was already 20. As she spoke, she actually took off a beautifully translucent mutton-fat jade bangle from her wrist, took my hand, and gently slipped it on. “It’s our first meeting, and Auntie didn’t prepare anything. This bangle looks lovely on your skin. Consider it a gift.” I stared blankly at the bangle, then looked up at Mrs. Caldwell, my eyes instantly reddening. Large tears, without warning, rolled down my cheeks. “Oh, why are you crying?” Mrs. Caldwell jumped, her tone a little flustered. “Don’t you like the bangle?” “No, it’s not that.” I shook my head. “The bangle is very beautiful, I love it. It just made me think of my mother.” “After my mother disappeared, no one had ever been so kind to me.” I lifted my tear-filled eyes to Mrs. Caldwell. “Auntie, thank you.” 【Mrs. Caldwell affinity score: 35】 【Vivian Caldwell affinity score: 80】 【Mr. Caldwell affinity score: 30】 Hearing my pitiful story, Mrs. Caldwell and Vivian’s affinity scores increasing was expected. Mr. Caldwell’s sudden affection, however, made me slightly pause. The system provided a timely explanation: 【Mr. Caldwell is henpecked. He saw Mrs. Caldwell’s clear liking for you, and thus developed a favorable impression of the host.】 There’s such a good thing? My heart soared with delight, and I became even more diligent in pleasing Mrs. Caldwell. Therefore, when Arthur finally appeased Audrey and brought her back, what they saw was this scene: Mrs. Caldwell, her face full of pleasure: “Scarlett, I didn’t know you had such skill?” I, while massaging her arm, shyly replied: “I specifically sought out an experienced Traditional Chinese Medicine doctor to learn. I originally wanted to learn to massage my mother, but before I could use it, she…” My voice trailed off sadly. Mrs. Caldwell immediately squeezed my hand, her eyes full of sympathy. “My dear child, you’ve truly suffered.” “Fortunately, you’ve met Auntie now. You’re so kind to me, just like my mother.” “Scarlett Davies!” Arthur roared. “Oh, so you’re trying to deceive my parents now too?!” I immediately stood up, looking frantic and helpless. “Mr. Caldwell, please don’t be angry. Auntie and I are not what you think.” Arthur’s chest heaved with rage. “I heard everything! How disgusting! Not only are you trying to seduce my sister, but now you’re saying my mother is like your mother? Do you even deserve that?!” “Arthur!” Mrs. Caldwell’s face darkened, and she sharply rebuked him. “How dare you speak like that? You have no manners at all!” Vivian immediately shielded me. “Don’t you dare insult my friend!” “Friend? Vivian Caldwell, have you lost your mind?!” Arthur, furious, laughed, then pointed abruptly at me. “Do you know what kind of person she is? She’s a manipulative gold-digger who’ll stop at nothing to climb the social ladder! She even drugged me once!” “Arthur Caldwell!” Vivian’s voice suddenly rose. “What nonsense are you spouting?!” “I’m not spouting nonsense.” Arthur stood his ground. “On the contrary, you, knowing nothing, brought this kind of person in front of Mom and Dad!” Seeing the siblings at daggers drawn, the atmosphere was taut to the extreme. Audrey Windsor, who had been standing silently behind Arthur, seemingly detached from it all, finally opened her crimson lips. “Scarlett Davies, you’re causing chaos in other people’s homes, yet you hide away. At this point, shouldn’t you come out and explain yourself?” 4 I looked at Audrey’s malicious eyes and inwardly cursed, you sanctimonious fraud. However, my past history of pestering Arthur was undeniable. Even if I denied it today, if the Caldwell family found out later, my affinity scores would plummet. Arthur pointed at me. “Scarlett Davies, you tell them yourself, what I just said, do you admit it or not!” Vivian shielded me. “Scarlett, don’t be afraid. If he’s slandering you, Sister will protect you.” I looked at Vivian, then swept my gaze across the Caldwell parents, whose expressions had subtly darkened. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Mr. Caldwell is right. I did pester him for a long time.” Vivian instinctively released her grip. Disappointment flickered across the Caldwell family’s faces. Arthur finally looked triumphant. “Hear that? She admitted it! This ill-intentioned person, hurry up and kick her out!” “But!” I sharply cut him off, my voice even more choked with sobs, yet I forced myself to stand tall. “I grew up without anyone to care for me. Mr. Caldwell was the first person to ever be kind to me, and I wanted so desperately to hold onto that kindness.” I covered my face, my shoulders trembling slightly. “I had already made up my mind, planning to quietly leave and put an end to my past mistakes.” “But then I met Vivian, who protected me. I met Auntie, who loved me like a daughter. I met Uncle…” “I was too greedy. Greedy for this warmth, which is why I didn’t dare to reveal the truth.” I took a step back. “I’m sorry, I was too despicable. I’ll leave now.” I turned to walk away, but inwardly, I was counting down. Three, two, one. “Wait,” Almost as soon as I counted to one, Vivian’s voice rang out. She pulled me tightly into her embrace. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. Sister didn’t know you were carrying so much pain. It’s my fault.” She turned to her parents, her tone firm. “Dad, Mom, Scarlett is just too starved for love; she took a wrong path.” Arthur was practically insane with rage. “Vivian Caldwell, are you blind?! Can’t you see she’s acting?!” Mrs. Caldwell also spoke now. “Scarlett is a guest of our Caldwell family.” She looked at me. “Scarlett, don’t listen to him. Stay with us.” Mr. Caldwell naturally followed his wife’s lead. “Ms. Davies, it’s good to admit mistakes and correct them. I believe Arthur will forgive you too.” Seeing the situation reverse, Audrey stepped forward, her voice rising. “With all due respect, doing something wrong is doing something wrong. There’s no excuse for forgiveness.” “A woman so morally bankrupt, even attempting to reform, is still rotten to the core! Their very being is tainted!” The words were extremely harsh and grating. Mrs. Caldwell’s face completely darkened. “Can you guarantee that you will never make a mistake in your entire life?” Audrey raised her chin, like an aloof, pure white snow lotus unafraid of authority. “Of course! My actions are always open and above board. I despise your elite family’s twisted games the most.” “And I utterly despise those who scheme and manipulate to climb the social ladder!” Arthur’s eyes were shining brightly. “Mom and Dad, Audrey is right. This is the woman I love. She’s different from other women. Look how real and pure she is!” The entire Caldwell family’s faces turned grim. They looked at Arthur as if he were the foolish son of a rich landlord. Mrs. Caldwell finally lost patience. “Butler, show them out.” “Mom!” Arthur panicked. “Audrey is my guest!” I spoke softly at the opportune moment. “Oh, I wonder if Sister Audrey knew she was coming to a family gala today?” “Why is she wearing all white? It looks so solemn, like she’s attending a funeral.” Everyone’s gazes instantly focused on Audrey. She was indeed wearing a pure white dress. The Caldwell parents’ faces grew even darker. Audrey’s face flushed then paled. She bit her lower lip tightly. “You Caldwells just look down on people! I refuse to stay in this place!” With that, she turned and ran. “Audrey!” Arthur chased after her without hesitation. After this turn of events, the Caldwell family’s affinity scores for me had changed again. 【Mrs. Caldwell affinity score: 75】 【Vivian Caldwell affinity score: 90】 【Mr. Caldwell affinity score: 60】 I was formally invited to stay for the Caldwell family gala. Vivian told me that the Caldwell Grand Matriarch would also be attending today. My heart stirred; she was one of my targets. Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the hall. Several black-suited bodyguards secured the banquet hall’s exits. The guests exchanged puzzled glances. Vivian’s face changed drastically, and she stood up. “What’s going on?” Just then, Arthur Caldwell and Audrey Windsor reappeared. Arthur’s gaze swept across the room, finally landing on me, a cold smirk on his lips. He raised his voice. “I apologize for interrupting your enjoyment. Just now, the Phoenix and Dragon jade pendant, most cherished by our Caldwell Grand Matriarch, was stolen. The thief is very likely among us.” A gasp rippled through the crowd. I had a bad feeling. I instinctively looked down. Sure enough, a jade pendant was hidden beneath my chair. Before I could react, Arthur, sharp-eyed, rushed over. The moment he saw the jade pendant, his face filled with triumph. “Caught red-handed! Guards, seize this thief!”

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My husband, Chuck Helberg, died quietly in his study, a heartfelt suicide note beside him. The letter began with “My dearest Audrey.” My name is Scarlett Davies. 1 At seven in the morning, the alarm didn’t ring. I opened my eyes, a strange sense of unease settling over me. The space beside me was empty. On Chuck’s side, the duvet was neatly folded, the pillow squared precisely. This wasn’t right; he never got up early enough to make the bed. “Chuck?” No reply. I sat up. The bedroom was terribly silent. Curtains drawn, letting in only a thin slice of light. Thirty years in this old house, every crack and crevice was familiar, but today, that familiarity held a strange chill. I got out of bed and pushed open the bedroom door. The living room was also empty. The kitchen was deserted, the bathroom door ajar, the light off inside. “Chuck Helberg?” My voice echoed through the living room, unanswered. A wave of panic rose within me. Not fear, but that pure intuition – something was wrong, terribly wrong. Then I saw the study door. It was slightly ajar, leaving a narrow gap. Our study, Chuck called it his “sanctuary.” I rarely went in; it was his space. He said he needed to write, to think, to be alone. For thirty-three years of marriage, I respected this habit. Everyone needs their own space, don’t they? I walked to the door, my hand on the doorknob. My heart lurched. I smelled it. Faint, but definitely there. The unmistakable scent of gas. “Chuck!” I pushed the door open violently. He sat in his desk chair, back to the door, head tilted slightly to one side. A natural posture, as if he were asleep. But on the desk, a small gas burner lay, its tube disconnected, the valve open. The windows were tightly shut. My legs gave way, and I clutched the doorframe. “Chuck… Chuck Helberg!” He didn’t move. I shuffled closer, my feet heavy as lead. Rounding the desk, I saw his face. Calm, too calm. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly purple, but his expression was relaxed, even hinting at… relief? My trembling hand reached for his breath. Nothing. His neck, cold. His wrist, cold. I collapsed to the floor, my head buzzing. Dead. Chuck Helberg was dead. He had taken his own life. In our study, with gas. While I slept in the next room, he came here, closed the door, and opened the valve. Why? I looked at him, this man with whom I had spent the greater part of my life. Sixty-two years old, his hair mostly gray but neatly combed. Today, he wore the gray sweater I had bought him last year, dark trousers. Dressed as if to meet a guest, not to commit suicide. Then I saw something tucked in his arms. A letter, in a plain white envelope, unsealed, a corner of the paper peeking out. I pulled it out, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The letter unfolded, revealing his familiar handwriting. Chuck’s penmanship had always been beautiful, strong and vigorous, upright like the man himself. But today, the words felt sharp, cutting. 【My dearest Audrey】 My name is Scarlett Davies. Who is Audrey? I read on, word by word, each like an ice pick stabbing my heart. 【My dearest Audrey, I have kept a lifelong promise, ensuring our child walks proudly in the world.】 【Now, our son is successful in his career, and our grandson is on the way. I have no more worries.】 【Life and death separate us, true love remains out of reach. I can finally escape this unhappy marriage.】 Signed: Chuck Helberg. Date: Yesterday. I stared at those lines, reading them again and again. I knew every word, but put together, I didn’t understand. My dearest Audrey—not me. True love—not me. The unhappy marriage that plagued him—mine. Thirty-three years. Thirty-three years of marriage. Our son, Nathan, was thirty-two. Last month, he called to say his wife was pregnant. Chuck had held the phone, his hand trembling, his voice choked. “Good, good, I’m going to be a grandfather.” I thought he was happy. Now, looking at this letter, I understood. It was a mission accomplished. Keeping a lifelong promise, ensuring our child walks proudly in the world. Our child. Our son, Nathan, was his and Audrey’s child? Then what about me? Scarlett Davies, in these thirty-three years of marriage, what was I? I looked up at Chuck. He sat there, peaceful, calm, even somewhat dignified. Dead, but he had died where he belonged. The letter made it clear: no more worries, finally free. I climbed to my feet, my legs still trembling. I went to the phone and dialed our son’s number. It rang three times, then connected. “Mom? So early, is something wrong?” Nathan’s voice was thick with sleep. He was in New York City, two thousand miles away. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “Mom?” “Your father…” I heard my own voice, dry and raspy, “Your father is dead.” Silence on the other end. A long, deathly silence. “Mom, what did you say?” “Your father,” I said, enunciating each word, “is dead. He killed himself. In the study.” Another silence. Then I heard a hurried breath. “I’m coming back immediately. Now, right now. Mom, did you call the police? The ambulance?” “Yes.” I hadn’t, but I knew I should. “Just come home quickly.” After hanging up, I truly called 911. Then I sat on the living room sofa, waiting. The letter was still clutched in my hand, the paper crumpled. The police arrived, then the paramedics. Photos, questions, examination. I moved like a puppet, answering whatever was asked. Finally, Chuck’s body was carried away. A police officer approached, a middle-aged man with a gentle expression. “My condolences. The suicide note… could we see it?” I handed him the letter. He read it, frowned, glanced at me, then at the letter, then back at me. “This…” “It’s not me,” I said. “Audrey isn’t me. My name is Scarlett Davies.” The officer nodded, saying no more. Perhaps he had seen stranger things. In the face of death, no absurdity was truly absurd. They left, and the house was empty again. I sat on the sofa, looking at the open study door. That door, Chuck had closed it last night, ending his life inside. And I, in the next room, had slept through the entire night. Blissfully unaware. 2 Our son arrived that evening. His flight was delayed; it was already eleven when he walked in. His face was tired, his eyes red. “Mom.” He hugged me, very tightly. It was then I realized I was trembling too. “What happened? How could Dad…” He released me, looking towards the study. “What did the police say?” “Suicide. Very clear. There’s a note.” I walked to the coffee table and picked up the letter. “See for yourself.” Nathan took the letter and opened it. I watched his face, trying to discern something there. Surprise? Confusion? Or… something else? He read slowly, his lips pressed tightly together. Then he looked up, his eyes full of bewilderment. “Who is Audrey?” “I’d like to know too,” I said. We looked at each other, mother and son for thirty years, suddenly like strangers. What was he thinking? What was I thinking? Neither of us knew. “Mom,” his voice was raspy, “this letter… is Dad…” “Confused?” I finished for him. “Delirious? Made a mistake?” He nodded, then shook his head. “But this handwriting, it’s Dad’s. I recognize it.” Yes, we both recognized it. The strokes, the strength, it was Chuck Helberg. He had written our names for over thirty years, on every birthday card, every holiday greeting. There was no mistaking it. “Did your father have any siblings?” I asked. “Cousins, anyone named Audrey?” “Dad was an only child, you know that.” I knew. Chuck’s parents died young; he had no close relatives. When we married, he was alone. He didn’t have many friends, just a few old colleagues he occasionally met. He never mentioned an Audrey. “Mom,” Nathan sat down, wiping his face, “Has Dad been… acting strangely lately?” I thought back. Last week, he went to his hometown, he said to visit his parents’ graves. He was gone for three days, and seemed perfectly normal upon his return. The day before yesterday, we went to the mall together to look at cribs for our unborn grandson. He was quite happy, chatting with the sales clerk for a long time. Yesterday, he woke early and made breakfast. Fried eggs, porridge, side dishes. Just like always. After eating, he said he was going to the study to write something. I said fine, then I went to the supermarket for groceries. When I came back, he was in the study, the door closed. I didn’t disturb him. In the evening, I made dinner and called him. He came out, ate, watched TV, then at around nine he said he was tired and went to bed. I said fine, I’d watch this episode. Everything was normal. “No,” I said. “Everything was normal.” “Then this letter…” Nathan looked at the lines again. “Ensuring our child walks proudly in the world – is this referring to me?” “Who else?” I looked at his face, a face that resembled mine by sixty percent. “You are my son. I carried you for ten months.” “But he said ‘our child,’” Nathan pointed at the letter, “his and this Audrey’s…” “You are not.” I cut him off, my voice a little sharp. “Nathan, you are my son. I gave birth to you. At City General Hospital, in the maternity ward, delivered by Dr. Lewis. Your father waited outside the delivery room all night. You weighed seven pounds eight ounces when you were born, and you cried very loudly. I remember all of this, clearly.” Nathan fell silent. He looked down at the letter for a long time. “Mom,” he looked up, tears in his eyes, “Then why did Dad write this?” I didn’t know. That night, neither of us slept. Nathan was in his old room, I was in the master bedroom. Chuck’s things were still there; his pajamas draped over the chair, his reading glasses and a half-read book on the nightstand. I picked up the book; it was One Hundred Years of Solitude. He had been reading it lately, saying he was old enough now to finally understand it. I opened it, and a bookmark fell out. It was one Nathan had made in elementary school, a piece of cardboard with a wobbly drawing of a family of three. On the back, in Chuck’s handwriting: My son Nathan, aged eight. My son. My heart constricted. The next day, funeral arrangements had to be made. Nathan went to take care of it, and I stayed home to tidy up. The police said the study was temporarily off-limits, pending procedures. So I tidied other areas. Chuck didn’t have many belongings. He was frugal; he had only a few clothes, but many books. I started with the wardrobe, taking out clothes one by one, folding them. In the bottom drawer, I felt a hard cover. I pulled it out; it was an old photo album. A plastic cover, its edges worn white. I opened it. The first page held our wedding photo. Chuck and I, taken in 1988. I wore a red dress, he a white shirt. Both of us young, smiling shyly. Below the photo, handwritten: Scarlett and Chuck, New Wedding Memento. I turned the pages. Nathan’s hundred-day celebration, his first birthday, starting kindergarten, elementary school graduation. Always the three of us. A standard family album. I flipped to the last few pages, which were empty. But on one page, something was tucked inside. I pulled it out: a small, black-and-white photo, its edges yellowed. It showed a young woman with two long braids, wearing a floral blouse, smiling sweetly. On the back, faded but still legible: Audrey, Spring 1975. 1975. That was before I met Chuck. Where was he then? In his hometown, or had he already moved to the city? He never mentioned it. I stared at the photo. Audrey. A very delicate-looking girl, with large eyes and dimples when she smiled. She looked to be in her early twenties, perhaps even younger. Who was she? I turned the photo over and over, finding no other information beyond that line of text. The photo itself was ordinary, like one taken at a photo studio, with a fake scenic backdrop. “Mom.” I gasped, almost dropping the photo. Nathan stood at the doorway, looking at what was in my hand. “What’s that?” I handed it to him. He took it, looked at the front, then flipped it over. “Audrey?” He looked up at me. “Is this…” “Found it in your father’s album,” I said. “Tucked in the back.” Nathan sat down, examining it closely. “1975… Dad would have been twenty-three that year. Working as a teacher in his hometown.” “How do you know?” “Dad mentioned it once,” Nathan said. “He went back to his village after high school, taught at the elementary school for two years, then passed the college entrance exam and left.” I hadn’t known any of this. Chuck rarely spoke of his past. When asked, he’d simply say, “Nothing worth telling, it’s all in the past.” “This Audrey,” Nathan pointed at the photo, “could she have been Dad’s…” “Sweetheart,” I finished. The room fell silent. Sweetheart. First love. Or, more than just first love. “But even if he had one,” Nathan said, “what does it have to do with this letter? ‘My dearest Audrey’ – Dad wouldn’t address just anyone like that. And he said ‘our child’…” He looked at the photo, then at me, his eyes complex. “Mom,” his voice was very soft, “Should I… get a DNA test?” I felt like I’d been slapped; my face burned. “What did you say?” “It’s not that I don’t believe you,” he said quickly. “But this letter… this photo… Dad must have had a reason for writing those words. If he thought I was his and this Audrey’s child, then maybe…” “You are not.” I stood up, my voice trembling. “Nathan, you are my son. I gave birth to you. You want a test? Fine, do it. But now, your father’s body is barely cold, and you want to do this?” He fell silent, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he murmured. “I’m confused. I just… want to understand.” We both wanted to understand. But how? Ask Chuck? He was dead, unable to answer. “Let’s take care of the funeral first,” I said. “Other matters, later.” Nathan nodded, returning the photo to me. I clutched the small paper, feeling as if it were burning hot. 3 The funeral was set for three days later. Simple, with few attendees. A few of Chuck’s old colleagues came, a few neighbors. At the ceremony, I stood at the very front, looking at his portrait. The photo was taken last year, in the park, he was wearing that gray sweater, smiling gently. The officiant read the eulogy, describing Chuck Helberg as a diligent and upright man, a good husband, a good father. Listening, I felt like laughing. A good husband? His suicide note said he was unhappy in this marriage. A good father? Before his death, he was thinking of another woman’s child. I clenched my hands, my nails digging into my palms. After it ended, one of Nathan’s distant aunts came over and took my hand. “Scarlett, my condolences. Chuck’s passing was so sudden; you must take care of yourself.” I nodded, unable to speak. “By the way,” the aunt lowered her voice, “did Chuck leave any instructions before he passed? He has an old house in his hometown, you know that, right?” I paused. An old house? Chuck’s hometown did have a house, but it had been neglected after his parents died. He said it wasn’t worth anything and didn’t bother with it. “Why bring that up suddenly?” “I just heard,” the aunt’s eyes darted around, “a while ago, someone apparently went to see that house. They said Chuck sent them. I thought you knew.” I didn’t know. Chuck hadn’t told me. “Who went?” “That, I’m not sure about.” The aunt patted my hand. “I’m just worrying needlessly. Don’t overthink it, just take care of yourself first.” She left, and I stood there. The old house? Chuck sent someone to see the old house? “Mom,” Nathan came over, “It’s time to go home.” On the way back, I kept thinking. The old house, Audrey, 1975. What could these fragments piece together? Once home, I told Nathan: “I want to go to your father’s hometown.” “Now? But the funeral just…” “Now,” I said. “I’ll take the high-speed train, round trip in one day. Are you coming?” Nathan looked at me, then nodded. “Yes. I’ll drive.” 4 Chuck Helberg’s hometown was in a neighboring state, a three-hour drive away. It was a small town; it had developed a bit over the years, but the old part of town remained much the same. Nathan, relying on his memory, found the old street. The old house was at the end of the street, a small, single-story home with its own yard. The door was locked, the lock rusted solid. A neighbor, hearing the commotion, opened her door. It was an old woman, who squinted at us for a long time. “Who are you looking for?” “Auntie,” I said, “This is Chuck Helberg’s house; I’m his wife. We’ve come back to take a look.” The old woman uttered an “Oh,” scrutinizing me. “Chuck’s family? He hasn’t been back in years. A while ago, someone did come, said Chuck sent him, and went in with a key.” “What kind of person?” “A man, in his forties, I suppose, wearing glasses, very scholarly.” The old woman thought for a moment. “Said he was Chuck’s friend, came to see if the house needed repairs.” “He went inside?” “Yes, he stayed for about an hour. He even asked me a few questions, like who used to live here, and if anyone had ever inquired about the house.” “What did you tell him?” “What could I tell him? Chuck’s parents passed away so many years ago; the house has been empty. Though, before…” The old woman paused. “Before, there was a woman who came, many years ago, asking about Chuck. I told her Chuck had moved to the city and was married, and she left.” My heart quickened a beat. “What kind of woman?” “That must have been thirty years ago,” the old woman recalled. “Very delicate-looking, dressed simply, spoke softly. Said she was Chuck’s old classmate, just passing by, thought she’d check in.” “What was her name?” “She didn’t say. I asked, she didn’t say, just left.” The old woman looked at me, then at Nathan. “Are you Chuck’s family? How is he? Haven’t seen him in ages.” “He…” My throat tightened. “He passed away. A few days ago.” The old woman gasped, repeatedly saying “What a pity.” She added, “Chuck was a good boy, just had a hard life. If it hadn’t been for his family’s troubles back then, he and his sweetheart…” “Sweetheart?” Nathan pressed. “Auntie, are you saying my father used to have a sweetheart?” The old woman, realizing her slip, waved her hand. “Oh, that’s ancient history, why bring it up? He’s gone now.” “Auntie,” I stepped forward, taking her hand. “Please tell me, this is very important to me. Chuck left a letter mentioning someone named Audrey. Was it her?” The old woman looked at me, her gaze complex. After a moment, she sighed. “Audrey… Yes, that was the girl. Audrey Sterling. She and Chuck grew up together, and they were very fond of each other. Later, Chuck’s family fell on hard times. His father passed away, his mother was ill, and the family was deep in debt. Audrey’s family thought Chuck was too poor and wouldn’t agree to the marriage. They forced Audrey to marry someone from out of town. I heard she didn’t have a good life; her husband abused her, and within a few years…” “Within a few years, what?” “She was gone,” the old woman whispered. “They said she died of illness, but some said she was heartbroken and took something. Chuck was already at university by then. When he found out, he came back and sat by Audrey’s grave all day. After that, he never mentioned her again.” I released her hand, my body growing cold. Audrey Sterling. Dead. She had died many years ago. “Then did she…” I heard my voice tremble. “Did she have a child?” “A child?” The old woman thought for a moment. “I think I heard she had one, but it was given away not long after it was born. The family Audrey married into didn’t acknowledge it, saying she had been unfaithful, and the child wasn’t theirs. What a tragedy.” Given away. A child. I looked at Nathan. His face was ashen. “Auntie,” his voice was dry, “That child… boy or girl? When was it born?” “That, I’m not sure about. It’s all hearsay, a mix of truth and rumor, who knows.” The old woman sighed. “They were all tragic figures. Chuck later married you, and we all rejoiced when we heard you had a good life. He finally found some happiness.” Happiness? I managed a twisted smile, but no real smile came. “Auntie,” I said, “Can we go inside and look around?” The old woman went back inside for a hammer, then helped us smash open the rusted lock. The door opened, releasing a musty odor. The house was dim inside, furniture covered with cloths, a thick layer of dust on the floor. Nathan and I walked in, using our phone flashlights. It was a small house, one living room, one bedroom, the kitchen in a corner. Chuck had grown up here until he was eighteen, then left for university, met me, married, had a child, and lived for thirty-three years. Until three days ago, when he died. I walked slowly through the living room, looking at the dust-covered objects. Old tables, old chairs, faded remnants of New Year prints on the wall. In the bedroom, a wooden bed, an old-fashioned wardrobe. I pulled open the wardrobe door. It was empty, save for a few old clothes hanging inside. I reached in, and in the deepest part of the closet, I felt a small wooden box. I pulled it out and opened it. Inside were some odds and ends: a few vintage pins, an old fountain pen, some old paper bills. And a letter, its envelope yellowed. I pulled it out, my hand trembling fiercely. It was Chuck Helberg’s handwriting, but younger, less developed. The date was June 1975. 【Audrey: Greetings. I received your letter. Knowing you are well, I am relieved. You said your parents have brought up that marriage again. Don’t worry, when I return for summer break, I will talk to them. Though I, Chuck Helberg, am poor now, I am working hard. I will soon take the college entrance exam, get into university, secure a job, and then I can support you. Audrey, believe in me. In this life, I want only you. If you marry another, I will remain unmarried my entire life. Wait for me.】 The letter was short, ending abruptly. No signature, but I knew it was him. June 1975, before he even took the college entrance exam, Audrey’s family was already pressuring her to marry. I folded the letter and put it back. There was also a photo in the box, a picture of Chuck and Audrey together. They stood by a river, both young, smiling brightly. Chuck had his arm around Audrey’s shoulder; she leaned against him, holding a bouquet of wildflowers. On the back of the photo, it read: With Audrey, Summer 1974. A year later, Audrey married. Another year, she died. I handed the photo to Nathan. He looked at it, silent for a long time. “So,” his voice was very soft, “this Audrey was Dad’s first love. She died. Left a child, who was given away. Dad thought that child was me.” “Or,” I looked at the young Chuck in the photo, “he wished it was you.” “Why?” “Because you are his son,” I said. “But in his heart, he always held Audrey. So he treated you as Audrey’s child, so he could convince himself that his marriage, this lifetime, had meaning – that he raised his and Audrey’s child.” “But I was born to you!” Nathan’s voice rose. “Mom, I’m your son! How could he… how could he do this to you?” I didn’t answer. I walked to the window, pushed it open, and let the wind blow in. Dust danced in the light. “Your father,” I said, “lived a lifetime of heartache.” “But does that excuse how he treated you?” Nathan came to my side. “Mom, he spent thirty-three years with you, and in the end, he left a letter saying his true love was someone else, saying this marriage was unhappy. What did he see you as?” I shook my head. I didn’t know. I thought we were husband and wife, partners, family. But it turned out that in his heart, I was a shackles, an unhappiness, thirty years he had to endure. “I’m going to find that child,” Nathan suddenly said. “What?” “Audrey’s child. If they’re still alive, they should be around my age. I want to find him and ask for clarity. Maybe Dad had contact with him all these years; maybe Dad’s suicide note was meant for him.” “What if you find him?” “I don’t know.” Nathan wiped his face. “But I want to understand. Mom, don’t you?” I did. I wanted to know what I had truly lived through for thirty-three years. My presumed home, my presumed marriage, my presumed lifelong companionship—how much of it was real? “Find him,” I said. 5 It was dark by the time we returned to the city. Nathan dropped me off at home, saying he’d investigate and let me know if he found anything. I entered the house alone, turned on the lights, and looked at the empty rooms. Every piece of furniture here, I chose. The paintings on the walls, he and I selected together. The kitchen tiles, I insisted on that color. Thirty-three years, this home, everywhere bore my mark. Yet Chuck said he was unhappy. I walked into the study. The police had lifted the seal; everything was still in its place. On the desk, One Hundred Years of Solitude lay open. I walked over and looked at the page. It was about Colonel Aureliano Buendía returning home after years of war, finding everything changed beyond recognition. Chuck had underlined a sentence in pencil: “He thought of his dead wife, of the life he had never truly possessed.” I traced the line with my finger. The life he had never truly possessed. Was he thinking of Audrey? Thinking of the what-if – what if Audrey hadn’t died, what if he had been with her, what kind of life would that have been? The phone rang. It was Nathan. “Mom, I found something,” his voice was urgent. “I asked a friend to check the civil registry system. Around 1976, a boy was sent to the county orphanage, his mother named Audrey Sterling. Records show the child was adopted three months later by a pair of teachers named Henderson.” “What happened after that?” “That’s where it cut off. Archives weren’t complete back then, only that much. But my friend said he could dig deeper, see if the Henderson couple ever moved, or if the child’s name was changed.” “How long will that take?” “Hard to say, maybe a few days.” He paused. “Mom, I also asked Dad’s old colleagues. One, a Mr. Evans, said Dad indeed asked him for a favor a while ago.” “What favor?” “Dad asked him to help find someone named Ethan Henderson. Said he was an old friend, lost touch for years, wanted to reconnect.” Ethan Henderson. I hadn’t heard that name before. “Did Mr. Evans find him?” “Yes. Ethan Henderson is now in a neighboring city, runs a small bookstore. Dad got his address and phone number.” Nathan said, “Mom, do you think this Ethan Henderson could be the child Audrey’s family adopted?” I didn’t know. But it was too much of a coincidence. “Do you have the address?” “Yes. Mr. Evans gave it to me.” Nathan said, “I’m going over tomorrow. Mom, are you coming?” I thought about it. “Yes.” “Okay, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” After hanging up, I sat in the study, looking at the chair Chuck used to sit in. He had sat right here, opened the gas, and written that letter. The letter said he had fulfilled his promise, ensuring “our child” walked proudly in the world. If Nathan wasn’t that child, then who was he talking about? If Nathan was, then who was I?

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When I returned to the office after maternity leave, the new HR manager, a woman named Vanessa, had given me the codename “Sweet Sixteen.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, my brow furrowed. She just chuckled, a patronizing sound that grated on my nerves. “Oh, it’s just the sixteenth woman who’s tried to climb into my husband’s bed, darling.” I froze, then felt a surge of indignation. “Are you out of your mind? I don’t even know your husband! What kind of malicious rumors are you spreading? If you want to play the doting wife, go home and do it, don’t poison the office with your nonsense!” Her eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t play coy! My husband is the CEO of this company. Calling you ‘Sweet Sixteen’ is me being generous!” I glanced at the CEO’s nameplate hanging on the wall. Hold on. In the time it took me to have a baby, my father had invested in my husband’s startup. Since when did the CEO change? … I immediately pulled out my phone, ready to call my husband. But Vanessa quickly stepped in front of me, her hand reaching out. “What do you think you’re doing? You delusional fangirl, are you seriously trying to make a move on him right in front of me?!” I frowned, trying to explain. “Are you crazy? I have a husband. Why would I be a ‘fangirl’ of yours? Let me make this clear: my husband’s name is Arthur Finch. He has his own company, and before I gave birth, the office was right here. I just came back after my maternity leave to help with the year-end bonuses and found the CEO’s nameplate changed to ‘Marcus Galecki.’ I need to call my husband and find out what’s going on. Do you understand?” The moment I finished speaking, Vanessa slapped me across the face. I was stunned. Instinctively, I tried to retaliate, but she clamped down hard on my wrist. “How dare you hit me!” I yelled, my voice trembling with rage. She simply sneered. “What kind of attitude is that when you’re talking to me?! Don’t bother making up some ridiculous story; you’re not fooling anyone! You show up on your first day wearing those fishnet stockings, and those… assets of yours are practically bursting out. It’s obvious you researched my husband’s preferences and came here to seduce him. I started suspecting you downstairs, and now you have the nerve to claim this is your husband’s company! You say it’s your husband’s company? See if anyone here even recognizes you!” Vanessa promptly called over all the employees. It was then that I noticed every single face in the office was unfamiliar! Could I really have come to the wrong company? But the company name and main business hadn’t changed, not even the lucky bamboo plant I’d bought, it was still in its original spot. And the company’s performance had been steadily climbing; there was no way it would have been sold off. I absolutely hadn’t come to the wrong place! I hadn’t been to the office in a full year, from pregnancy until now. And just six months ago, due to business expansion, a parent company had been established. Perhaps the older employees had all been transferred to the main office. The employees present all shook their heads, saying they didn’t know me, and noted that my information wasn’t in the latest onboarding list. Vanessa heard this and exploded. “So, you’re just some escort who researched my husband’s preferences beforehand! I’ve seen women like you online—you apply for a secretary position, but really you just want to be the boss’s bedmate! You thought you could come and seduce my husband, but you didn’t expect me to catch you, did you?!” Seeing the people around me start to whisper after Vanessa’s outburst, some even pulling out their phones to record, I knew I had to clear my name. If I didn’t, this baseless rumor would stick to me forever! “You have no proof! Spreading rumors is a crime!” I retorted quickly. Vanessa let out a cold laugh. “Proof?” She then swung her hand back and slapped me again, hard. My earring was violently tugged, tearing a gash in my earlobe. I shrieked in pain. She, however, looked utterly smug. “My intuition is proof! Confess now how you planned to seduce my husband, or I’ll beat your face to a pulp today!” I clutched my ear, tears streaming down my face from the agony. Forcing my trembling body to steady, I gritted out, “You can’t understand plain English, can you? Fine, I’ll call the police!” With that, in front of everyone, I dialed 911. The employees suddenly looked uneasy. Someone tugged at Vanessa’s sleeve. “Mrs. Galecki, what if we’ve really misunderstood her?” “Misunderstood what? I’ve caught thirty mistresses; I’d never mistake one of these sluts! I know better than anyone how attractive my husband is to women! Besides, why would an escort trying to be a mistress dare to call the police? Once her shady dealings are exposed, she’ll spend the rest of her life in jail!” Seeing Vanessa’s confident demeanor, the surrounding employees stopped trying to intervene. I clenched my jaw, and with my blood-stained hand, I completed the call to 911 in front of everyone. The police arrived quickly. They immediately noticed my injuries and asked what had happened. “She hit me!” I pointed at Vanessa. But before the officers could question her, she retorted, “This escort tried to seduce my husband to climb the corporate ladder, so I hit her! Isn’t it perfectly natural for a wife to confront a mistress?” The officer frowned. “Did you… become her husband’s mistress?” “No, I didn’t!” I took a deep breath and explained the situation to the police. “I have a husband and a child, and a harmonious family. Why would I try to seduce her husband? And she has absolutely no evidence; how can she spread such rumors about me?!” Vanessa scoffed. “You showing up at my husband’s company out of nowhere today is evidence! Otherwise, why would a stranger like you, dressed so provocatively, come looking for my husband?!” I was practically frantic. Looking at the police, I pleaded, “Don’t you see? She’s not listening to a word I’m saying! I told you, I came here to find my husband, Arthur Finch! She keeps insisting I want to seduce Marcus Galecki, but I don’t even know Marcus Galecki!” But the police just looked at me with confusion. “If you don’t know Marcus Galecki, then why are you here at this company? The owner of this company is indeed Marcus Galecki.” The officer showed me the retrieved company information, where the name of the proprietor, Marcus Galecki, was clearly written. I was dumbfounded. Seeing my surprise, the officer told me I must have come to the wrong address. Vanessa still wanted to argue, insisting I was a mistress, but she couldn’t produce any concrete evidence. The police warned her that if she continued to spread rumors, an investigation would be opened. She finally fell silent. Regarding my physical injuries, after an assessment, the police instructed Vanessa to pay me twenty thousand dollars in compensation, to be transferred to my account later. Since my mind was still preoccupied with the company matter, I quickly nodded when the police asked if I was satisfied with the outcome. After dealing with Vanessa, I walked out of the office building and immediately called my husband. “Arthur Finch, you better explain right now why the company owner changed! Did you secretly sell the company?!” “No, I didn’t,” Arthur replied, sounding confused. “Honey, the company’s performance has been improving. Why would I sell it?” “Then why has the owner become Marcus Galecki?!” I demanded sharply. Arthur finally understood and began to explain. “Honey, I forgot to tell you, Marcus Galecki has become a shareholder in the branch office. He’s the university senior I often told you about—capable but really unlucky. He was an orphan from childhood, and after graduation, he helped me shoulder the company’s pressures. I thought about giving him shares in the branch office. Didn’t I discuss this with your father, too? Don’t you remember?” I did know Arthur had a struggling senior from college whom he owed a great deal to, but I didn’t know his name, nor was I aware of the branch office transfer. Before I could answer, Arthur continued, “Even if you found the company had changed hands, you could have just called me, honey. Why are you so upset? Did something happen?” I recounted what had transpired at the office to my husband. He instantly became furious. “How did Vanessa even get to the office?! Honey, I’m so sorry about what you went through today. His wife is… peculiar. She constantly accuses clients of being mistresses, and she’s already ruined several deals for him. Marcus, being an orphan, has been incredibly patient with her, but he’s warned her. If it happens again, he’ll divorce her. Vanessa had quieted down for a while, I really didn’t expect her to go to the office. I’ll talk to Marcus about this. When I get home, I’ll apologize properly and make it up to you, okay?” My husband was upset and anxious, and I understood his difficult position. I didn’t press him further. For the year-end bonuses, I opted to communicate with Marcus online. As soon as we connected on Messenger, Marcus began apologizing profusely, promising to make amends. But I didn’t expect that shortly after Marcus apologized to me, Vanessa would start pounding on my front door. “Claire Bennett, you slut, get out here!” Knowing Vanessa wasn’t quite right in the head, I initially didn’t want to go out. But she kept banging on the door. My son had just turned one month old and couldn’t endure such loud noise. I messaged my husband, urging him to come home quickly and handle it. But before he could arrive, my son was already crying uncontrollably, terrified by the commotion outside. I had no choice but to try and make Vanessa stop. But to my horror, the moment I opened the door, bright red paint splashed all over me. I was drenched, and the pungent smell made me gag. Vanessa, however, laughed. “Oh, you’re throwing up, are you? Doesn’t this smell better than your slutty stench?” I raised my hand, intending to slap her. But Vanessa gripped my wrist tightly. She thrust her phone into my face. “Everyone, look! This is the slut who’s married with a child but still wants to seduce my husband! She’s probably so loose you could fit a fist in there, and she’s still looking for men! How can someone be so depraved?!” It was then I noticed. Vanessa’s phone was live-streaming, and the title read: “Making the slut who tried to seduce my husband pay!”

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The first time I met my boyfriend’s childhood friend, she grinned, grabbed my hand, and squealed, “Well, well, well, you lucky dog, how did you manage to snag such a gorgeous woman?” She then turned to me, “Hey, beautiful, let’s ditch these stinky boys.” I thought she was wonderful. But then, when I returned from the restroom and was about to push open the door, I overheard her, the childhood friend, making malicious comments. “Ugh, it’s disgusting. That cutesy voice, definitely a pick-me girl,” she scoffed. “And look, that bag she’s carrying isn’t cheap. She’s probably hooking up with some rich old man. You guys, you straight guys don’t get it, but women know women best. Girls like her are never ‘good’ girls.” I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. Excuse me, can’t I just be born into wealth? Rich people have daughters too, you know. I pulled out my phone and dialed, “Cancel the patent license authorization for Sterling Dynamics.” Sterling Dynamics was my boyfriend’s company. Without my patent license, his company was nothing but an empty shell. … The voices inside the room didn’t stop. Sophia Lane’s cackle was particularly grating. “Darling, I’m telling you, when you’re looking for a partner, find someone with good character, don’t just focus on looks,” she chided. “I’m a slut-detector expert; one look and I can tell she’s a manipulative schemer.” I expected my boyfriend, Dylan Sterling, to defend me, even just a little. But he remained silent. Instead, his group of buddies eagerly chimed in, one after another. “She definitely looks like trouble.” “I trust Sophia, when has she ever lied to us?” “Maybe we should give that girl a test…” A few minutes later, I pushed open the private room door. The teasing voices inside instantly died. Most of them instinctively lowered their gazes, avoiding my eyes. Dylan, however, kept sipping his drink, staring straight at me. Sophia showed no sign of guilt, lifting her chin and curving her lips into a smile at me. She acted as if nothing had happened, enthusiastically pulling me to sit down. “Oh, hey, gorgeous, sit next to me. Stay away from those stinky boys. I want to cuddle with a beauty.” Despite her words, she was practically glued to Dylan. She sat between us, effectively separating us. Recalling the malicious speculations from moments before, my face tightened into a grim expression. “Yes, I’ll keep my distance. You two can get closer.” At my words, the atmosphere in the room solidified. Sophia, feigning disbelief, clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped, “Oh my god, you’re not one of those ‘relationship-brained’ types, are you? It’s scary how you get jealous if any woman even approaches your man. Sister, that’s not good, what man could put up with that?” Saying this, she patted Dylan’s shoulder with exaggerated sympathy, shaking her head. “You’re in for it later, buddy.” Dylan’s face turned from pale to crimson, and he slammed his glass onto the floor with a heavy thud. “Summer Reynolds, who are you being sarcastic with?” “Oh, so you can talk? I thought you were mute.” I shot back, not backing down in the slightest. Dylan’s expression completely darkened. He was about to explode again. Sophia tugged at his sleeve, subtly winking at him. The group around them began to scrutinize me with an air of amused expectation. I knew their so-called “test” was about to begin. A guy with bright yellow hair spoke first. “That’s a nice bag you have. Who gave it to you?” “My father,” I gritted out. “‘Father,’ what kind of father? Is he… that kind of father?” the yellow-haired guy asked with a malicious smirk. Everyone else understood the insinuation. A roar of laughter filled the room. Dylan’s face grew even darker. My expression remained unchanged as I smiled at the yellow-haired guy. “You know so much about it; how many fathers do you have? You’re so receptive, you must be the bottom.” The yellow-haired guy jumped to his feet, about to lash out at me. Sophia held him back, then smiled sweetly at me. “Hey, gorgeous, how did you end up with a guy like Dylan? Was it a deliberate ‘chance’ encounter you orchestrated? How romantic.” The implication was clear: she was accusing me of “scheming to get close to Dylan.” Sophia looked at Dylan, laughing exaggeratedly. “Well, I guess it makes sense. My boy is handsome and has a little wealth; it’s normal for him to be targeted.” I let out a soft laugh, my fingertip unconsciously tracing the expensive patterns on my bag. Even in the dim light, its luxurious quality was undeniable. “Didn’t your ‘boy’ tell you that it was love at first sight for him, and he pursued me?” At my words, the smile on Sophia’s face completely faltered. I continued, mimicking her astonished hand-over-mouth laugh. “Oh, my, you didn’t know? Your ‘boy’ was so serious about chasing me back then. He even said he only knew what love was after meeting me. So romantic!” Sophia completely lost control of her expression, her face contorting grotesquely. Before she could say anything, Dylan couldn’t sit still any longer. He lunged forward, grabbing me from the sofa. “Summer Reynolds, that’s enough!” Everyone else was staring at me with ill intent. I forcefully pulled my hand from Dylan’s grasp, then coldly swept my gaze across the group. Dylan’s face remained stern, but the frustration in his chest lingered. “Apologize to Sophia.” “Why should I?” I didn’t back down one inch. Sophia bit her lip, looking at me with undisguised resentment. She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, what a temper. Anyone would think you’re some heiress throwing your weight around. But don’t be angry, gorgeous. We mean no harm, we’re all just buddies.” I wasn’t angry; instead, I smiled as I openly appraised her. “‘Buddies’? A cleavage-baring, attention-seeking ‘buddy’?” Dylan angrily slammed the table again, glaring at me. “Apologize!” Sophia giggled, lightly punching Dylan’s chest a couple of times. “Don’t be angry, honey.” Then she looked at me. “Calm down, I’m just used to being around men, so I don’t filter my words. Don’t mind me.” “Indeed,” I nodded seriously. As Sophia’s eyes practically devoured me, I continued, “Making baseless accusations, stepping on other women to elevate your own value – you certainly are despicable.” At these words, the entire room fell into a dead silence. The group of people let out awkward, forced laughs. Seeing that I had exposed her, Sophia dropped the act. “So what if you heard? If you say it’s not true, then prove it.” Dylan’s face tightened. “Yes, prove it.” Meeting my gaze, Dylan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes held complex emotions: embarrassment from being exposed in front of everyone, but more so, a struggle over how to face me. I turned to look at Dylan. At that moment, I felt like I was truly seeing him for the first time. Before today, Dylan had been quite good to me. He proactively shared his schedule, kept his distance from other women, and worried more than I did when I was sick. My friends all said I had found the perfect, doting boyfriend. Yet, this very person, simply because of Sophia’s baseless guesses, doubted my character. “Why should I prove myself?” I looked at Sophia. “You’d better have evidence.” With that, I reached for my phone to call the police. But Dylan suddenly snatched it away. His brows were deeply furrowed, and his eyes held even more disappointment as he looked at me. “Summer Reynolds, when did you become so sharp-tongued and petty?” “Sharp-tongued and petty?” I shed all traces of my smile. Under everyone’s stunned gazes, I used all my strength and slapped Dylan across the face. I had grown up cherished by my family, never having to endure such humiliation. There was no way I would swallow my anger. Before anyone could react, I snatched my phone back, grabbed my bag, and turned to walk out with a flourish. Behind me, I heard Sophia’s shrieks and Dylan’s furious roar, along with the sound of a shattering bottle. Don’t let my poised departure fool you. The moment I reached my best friend’s place, I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. “Honey, I broke up with him!” “Oh my god, where are they? I’ll go back there with you and kick their asses!” my friend yelled, jumping up in a rage. I pulled her back, crying and laughing at the same time. “No need. I’m not someone to be trifled with. They’ll regret it soon enough.” Just then, a message from Sophia came through. [Hey, gorgeous, you alright? Not secretly hiding and crying, are you?] [Oh well, I’ll help you teach Dylan a good lesson. He’s my boy, and he listens to me best.] She also sent a few photos. Selfies. In the dim streetlights, Sophia was being carried on a tall man’s back. Her head rested on his shoulder, a bright smile on her face. Just from the back of his head, I knew it was Dylan. My best friend, unable to bear it, snatched my phone and made a call. “Damn it, you faux-tomboy, you can twist your body like that just to take a picture, are you in heat or something? I really don’t know what your mother taught you. Did she only teach you how to be a mistress, and not about decency and honor?” Sophia was stunned by the outburst. “You, who are you? How dare you say that to me! Wah, wah, Summer Reynolds, how could you find someone to insult me like this?!” The next second, Dylan’s furious voice came through. “Summer Reynolds, you’re becoming more and more unreasonable. As a fellow woman, you’re letting your friend spread nasty rumors about Sophia. Sophia and I are completely innocent. Sophia was worried when you ran off by yourself late at night, that’s why she came out with me to look for you. If you were even half as sensible as Sophia, I would have…” I cut him off. “Oh, in that case, you two should thank me.” “What?” Dylan was confused. I held back my best friend, who was about to unleash another volley of curses. “If you didn’t use me as an excuse, how else could you have had a romantic moonlight stroll on her back?” Dylan choked. Half a minute later, he explained, completely unblushing. “Sophia was walking too fast just now and twisted her ankle accidentally. It’s because of you she got hurt, Summer Reynolds, don’t you feel any guilt?” Sophia continued to fan the flames. “Oh my, your girlfriend is really too sensitive. Never mind, if that’s the case, we should interact less in the future. Otherwise, she’ll just bring her friends to call me a mistress again, and I can’t handle that.” Her words, as expected, reignited Dylan’s anger. “Summer Reynolds, apologize…” “Breakup.” I directly cut off his nonsense. The person on the other end fell silent. I could clearly hear Dylan’s breathing become heavy. Sophia continued to be sarcastic. “I get it, isn’t this just playing hard to get? Trying to manipulate you. Dylan, your old man here has been a slut-detector for years; you think I don’t understand her little schemes?” My best friend snatched the phone again. “Only a whore sees everyone else as a whore.” Meanwhile, I, without another word, blocked and deleted all of Sophia and Dylan’s contact information. The next day, I arrived at Sterling Dynamics. The receptionist stopped me, her tone dismissive. “Apologies, unauthorized personnel are not permitted entry.” I frowned, puzzled. The receptionist gestured for me to look at a group message. I clicked it open. Well, well, well, I had been fired. The person who posted the termination notice was Sophia Lane. Sophia had only returned to the country yesterday, and today she was already in charge? Passing employees eyed me with sneering looks. “Oh, isn’t this our boss’s gold-digging ex?” “How dare she even show up? If I were her, I’d be too ashamed to show my face.” “The nerve of some people.” I sneered, pushing away the receptionist’s hand. “I don’t accept this. If you want to fire me, you need to provide severance.” I wasn’t short on money. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for Dylan. When I reached my desk, I found all my belongings piled in a corner. Just as I was about to explode, an employee I usually didn’t get along with shoved their phone in my face. “You actually dared to show up? Your whole mess has spread throughout the company.” “Seriously, Summer Reynolds, being around you makes the air feel polluted.” I stared intently at the phone screen. It displayed several photos. They were candid shots of me, holding my father’s arm, getting into a Rolls-Royce. Several photos, taken from different angles. My face completely darkened. “Who took these photos?” “Pfft, are you just lashing out because you’re angry?” The employee’s laughter became even more exaggerated. Other employees gathered in small groups, their naked, mocking gazes fixed on me. Dylan happened to walk past. I thought he would at least reprimand them upon seeing this scene. But he disappointed me once again. Dylan glanced at me. “Don’t stir up trouble and cause chaos in the company.” Sophia pushed open the door at that moment. She seemed surprised to see me. “Why are you still at the company? Weren’t you fired?” I instinctively looked at Dylan. His eyes darted away. He sighed. “Summer Reynolds, if you can’t tolerate Sophia, then you should leave. Sophia is a highly educated talent from abroad; I’ve decided to let her take over your position.” I looked at Dylan in disbelief. I was considered a founding member of the company, and he was just dismissing me like this? Well done.

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On our wedding anniversary, my husband’s ten-year-long research into a time machine finally succeeded. He intended to take our son back to the past to reunite with his deceased first love. As they were leaving, our son rolled his eyes at me and sneered, “You’re just a housekeeper. Don’t hold up Dad from seeing Aunt Clara!” My husband, his face cold and indifferent, added, “Eleanor Vance, I’ve already sold this house. Please move out as soon as possible.” I smirked. “You two better not regret this.” I followed them to the laboratory. In the final second before the machine activated, I reached out my hand towards the shimmering portal. They had no idea that I had waited ten long years for this exact moment—to save my original husband and daughter. 1 Dr. Michael Darabont’s research had finally paid off. He was going to take our son, Liam Darabont, and travel back in time, ten years into the past. And I, Eleanor Vance, had seen this news on a TV broadcast. Today was our tenth wedding anniversary. I had just finished making dinner, waiting for him to come home. The moment he walked through the door, I greeted him. “Michael, I’ve cooked all your favorite dishes to celebrate our ten-year anniversary.” Michael merely sighed softly. “Eleanor, we’re done. You’ve diligently looked after Liam and me for ten years, but I still can’t forget Clara.” Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his cold, clear eyes held no emotion, as if he were discussing something utterly mundane. I held the scalding hot plate, yet felt nothing. Gazing at the man in the crisp suit before me, I instinctively searched for the mole at the corner of his eye. “Michael, are you… divorcing me?” “My research is complete. I’m going to find Clara.” he stated. My fingertips, scalded crimson by the plate, belatedly released it. The dish instantly crashed to the floor, delicate cuisine scattering everywhere. My eyes widened in disbelief. “You… you’re going back? Ten years into the past?” Clara Sink was Michael’s first love; she had died ten years ago in an accident, and Michael had never forgotten her. “Yes. I’ll take Liam with me.” A faint smile flickered in his eyes, as if anticipating a reunion with Clara. I stepped forward, frantically grabbing his arm. “What about me, Michael? What do I count as? Today is our ten-year wedding anniversary…” “Eleanor Vance, this is where we end.” Michael ruthlessly pried my fingers off his arm, one by one. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, yet I felt no pain. “So you’re just going to abandon me?” I then turned to Liam. “Liam, are you abandoning your mother too?” My son, whom I had nurtured with all my heart, rolled his eyes at me. He walked to Michael’s side and surveyed me with a slightly disdainful look. “You’re old and ugly, always at home like a drab housewife. You’re nothing like Aunt Clara. Don’t hold up Dad and me from going back to find her. I want Aunt Clara to be my mom!” Looking at the two of them, a storm of emotions churned within me. When Liam was sick, I stayed awake for nights, my eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion, tending to him. Back then, he would hold my little finger like a tiny dumpling, calling me “Mommy,” bringing me origami cranes he made in kindergarten art class, and sweetly calling me “Mommy.” But as he grew older, he only complained that I was nagging, like a housekeeper, not as glamorous as other mothers. “Face reality. I won’t be coming back. And this house? I’ve signed a deed of donation, giving it to the foundation I established for Clara. As for you, pack your bags and move out as soon as possible.” Michael added. I found it almost laughable. They were leaving, and they still didn’t forget to donate the house to Clara Sink’s foundation? “Alright,” I took a deep breath. “I hope you don’t regret this.” “Regret? I’d only regret not being with Clara!” Michael stated, every word distinct. With that, he and Liam got into the car and drove away. He didn’t notice that I was driving another car, following closely behind them. Inside the lab, Michael and Liam’s eyes gleamed with excitement and anticipation. On the table, a machine pulsed with blinding light. “Dad, can this really take us back to Aunt Clara?” Liam’s round eyes swiveled, filled with curiosity. “Yes,” Michael curved his lips. Hearing Liam mention Clara Sink, a rare tenderness flickered across his face. It was a look I had never seen before. At his words, Liam’s eyes lit up. “I love Aunt Clara the most! Aunt Clara is so beautiful, like a fairy. Mom, on the other hand, looks like a drab old housewife. I don’t want a drab housewife as my mom.” Michael stroked his head. “Don’t worry. When we go back, Aunt Clara will be your mom.” Look. My decade of care and companionship meant so little to them, they were even willing to risk time travel to go back and find Clara Sink. But none of that mattered anymore. As the father and son disappeared into the shimmering portal, I rushed forward, taking three steps at a time, and reached out to touch the machine just as the light was about to fade. The next second, a powerful force pulled me in. When I regained my senses, I was standing on an empty road, everything both unfamiliar and familiar. I had truly returned to ten years ago. A wild joy surged through me, but then a voice beside me suddenly asked, “What are you doing here?” I looked up, meeting Michael’s dark eyes. “You’re not following us to cause trouble, are you? Eleanor Vance, give it up. Even if you come back, there’s no way we’ll be together.” His brow was deeply furrowed, his face etched with defensiveness. “Bad woman, don’t hurt Dad and Aunt Clara!” The four-year-old Liam stood in front of Michael, his small fists clenched, as if I were his enemy. I pursed my lips, speaking with a feigned bewildered expression, “Excuse me, have you mistaken me for someone else?” Michael paused, his expression still full of distrust. “Mistaken you? You think putting on that act will make me believe you, Eleanor Vance? What are you really up to?!” I ignored Michael, turning to leave. “Don’t you dare move!” Michael grabbed my wrist. “You explain yourself. Were you deliberately following us? Are you trying to ruin things between Clara and me?” He gripped my wrist so hard it hurt. I forcefully pulled away, stumbling a few steps and bumping into someone behind me. A girl behind me gasped, and just as I was about to apologize, a sharp slap landed on my cheek. Michael spat on the ground. “Eleanor Vance, you truly are malicious!” I gritted my teeth and looked up, only to see Michael holding the girl I had bumped into. He looked at her as if she were a treasured possession he had lost and found again. “Clara, are you alright?” he asked in a low, gentle voice. “Are you blind?” Liam yelled, then scurried to Clara’s side, his face filled with worry. Oh, so they could care about people? I remembered when I was doubled over with acute gastroenteritis, barely able to get out of bed, and asked Michael to buy me medicine. He frowned, coldly saying, “Can’t you buy it yourself? I have a project at the institute; I’m very busy.” Then he grabbed his bag and left without looking back, leaving me, pale and almost fainting from pain, in the room. I asked Liam to call a doctor for me, but Liam was playing games on his phone, impatiently glancing at me. “Wait until I finish this round.” It wasn’t until hours later, when the cleaning lady found me passed out from pain and called an ambulance, that I barely survived. But now, Clara Sink was merely accidentally bumped, and my son was mocking me, and Michael even hit me! How truly absurd. Clara, leaning in Michael’s arms, her small face pale, her eyes slightly red-rimmed, looked as if she had suffered a terrible injustice. “Eleanor Vance, apologize to Clara!” Michael turned to me, still sitting on the ground, his face livid with rage. “I’m fine, this young lady didn’t mean it…” Clara bit her lip and began to speak. “Michael, who is she?” Michael paused. “She…” “Aunt Clara, she’s a bad woman who likes my dad!” Liam immediately interjected. Hearing Liam’s words, Clara’s gaze towards me flickered. “Oh, is that so… I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “No, I have nothing to do with her.” Michael hastily explained, disassociating himself from me. A decade of marital affection dismissed with a flimsy “nothing to do with her.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh, struggling to get up from the ground. “Sir, I don’t even know you, yet you pushed me and hit me, and now you’re saying strange things. Are you unwell?” “Stop pretending! You’re here. Who would believe you weren’t following me?” Michael’s brow was deeply furrowed, his gaze filled with disgust. “I told you, I will never like you. Stop bothering me.” “Exactly! Dad only likes Aunt Clara, you give up!” Liam chimed in from the side. Just then, a familiar yet unfamiliar male voice came from across the street. “Simon!” I looked up towards the source of the voice, a man in a white shirt and dress pants was waiting at the traffic light on the opposite side. He held an ice cream cone in his left hand and was holding the hand of a lovely, delicate little girl with his right. The little girl was waving at me. My fingers trembled uncontrollably, and my nose began to sting with tears. The red light turned green. He picked up the girl with one arm, lifted his foot, and was about to walk over. “Simon! Don’t move!” Seeing the scene, I couldn’t care about anything else and shrieked. Simon was startled by my shout. He paused, stopping in his tracks. The next second, a large truck, having run a red light, sped past, narrowly missing him. My heart felt as if it had been squeezed, and a drowning sensation of suffocation left me gasping for air. After triple-checking that there were no more cars, Simon finally ran over to me with the child in his arms. “That really scared me just now,” he said, putting the child down and patting his chest, still shaken. Then he handed me a pink ice cream cone. “Here, Eleanor, your favorite strawberry ice cream.” He curved his lips, his eyes full of warmth. “Simon… Elara…” Looking at these two faces I hadn’t seen in ten years, I was still somewhat dazed. Simon tucked the ice cream into my hand and gently ruffled my hair. “What’s wrong? I just went to buy you an ice cream, why do you look like you’re about to cry?” “Mommy, what’s wrong?” Elara’s tender voice asked, and she held out her tiny hand to me. “Elara wants a hug from Mommy.” My heart pounded rapidly. I took a deep breath, bent down, and picked up Elara, kissing her cheek. “Mommy’s fine. Mommy just missed Elara so much.” “Why is your cheek a little swollen? What happened just now?” Simon noticed my injury with a keen eye. I shook my head. “Nothing. Just got bitten by two mad dogs.” “Who are you calling mad dogs?” Michael glared at Simon and Elara, his face as black as a pot. “Whoever answers is a mad dog.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Dad… this person… he looks a lot like you…” Liam tugged at Michael’s sleeve, suddenly speaking in a small voice. His words were like adding fuel to the fire. Michael immediately demanded, “Eleanor Vance, who are they?” I blinked, looking at the beautiful mole beneath Michael’s eye, and then at Simon, who had a similar mole in the same spot. Not that similar, perhaps, but their features certainly bore a striking resemblance, almost like a ghostly echo. “Sir, this is my husband and my daughter. I’ve already told you that you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” I said slowly, licking my ice cream. “I don’t know you.” Seeing Michael’s unfriendly tone, Simon immediately stepped in front of me, frowning. “Who are you? Please don’t harass my wife and daughter.” “Wife? Daughter? Ha! Eleanor Vance, why didn’t I ever notice that you had someone else behind my back? You certainly have a knack for it!” Michael felt completely deceived, his pride wounded, but I insisted I didn’t know him, leaving him with a helpless feeling, like punching cotton. “Michael…” Seeing how angry Michael was, Clara couldn’t help but interject, “Don’t be angry, didn’t you say you had nothing to do with her?” “Yes, of course, nothing to do with her.” Michael snorted coldly. “Eleanor Vance, you’ll regret coming to beg me!” “You’re overthinking it.” I said coldly. “Dad, Aunt Clara, let’s go to the amusement park!” Liam, upon seeing his beloved Clara, had no interest in watching Michael and me argue. He couldn’t help but urge them to leave. Michael pursed his lips, his jawline sharp enough to cut me. He clenched his fist in suppressed anger, finally dropping a curt, “Fine, you’re on your own.” Then he took Clara and Liam and walked away. I glanced at the backs of the three of them, then indifferently pulled my gaze away. “Eleanor, let’s go home.” Simon took my hand, his warm fingers intertwining with mine. He didn’t know that I had waited ten years for those words, “Let’s go home.” “Simon…” The ice cream in my hand slipped and fell to the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging both him and Elara. Tears finally streamed down my face. “I’ve missed you so much, Simon…” I sobbed uncontrollably, my snot and tears soaking his collar. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Seeing me crying so hard I was gasping for breath, Simon visibly panicked. He fumbled, pulling out tissues to wipe my tears, while gently patting my back. “Eleanor, did that man just now bully you? What happened while I was buying ice cream? Don’t cry. I’ll go teach him a lesson!” Simon shook his fist, pretending to chase after Michael. I hugged him tightly, muffling, “No, Simon, don’t leave me, not for a minute.”

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Liam and I were orphans, bound by fate. The year he loved me most, he signed a contract, becoming the personal bodyguard to a socialite heiress from a prominent family. Through gunfire and firestorms, Liam would do anything, just to earn enough money for my schooling. We had once promised that on my eighteenth birthday, we would go to Switzerland together to see the snow. But that day, he went to Switzerland, and he saw the snow, but not with me. In the photo, he was embracing the heiress, Aurora Hayes, kissing her passionately in the snow. My heart chilled inch by agonizing inch. Yet, I couldn’t give up, still asking, “Liam, will you leave all this with me and start over?” He shook his head decisively. “Aurora is far too innocent compared to you. Her nature… how could she manage without me watching over her?” He added, “Just give it a few more years.” I said no more, quietly watching the messages pop up on my phone. A highly alluring photo of a chiseled torso. [Sister, when are you coming over? Your puppy misses you so much.] Liam didn’t know. I wouldn’t wait for him anymore. Because someone else was far more deserving of my love. … Seeing my prolonged silence, Liam assumed I was simply dejected by his rejection. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, and he was about to speak. From the room behind him, a chiding voice suddenly rang out. “Liam! Are you done yet? If you don’t come in now, you can forget about sleeping in bed tonight; you’ll be on the floor!” I abruptly looked up at Liam. “You two are sleeping together now?” “Aurora was kidnapped once. She’s afraid of the dark, so I need to stay with her to keep her calm.” His tone was matter-of-fact, as if this were the most ordinary, trivial thing. “Wendy, I’m sorry. Just wait a few more years for me. Aurora truly can’t do without me right now.” With that, he turned and entered the room, as if fearing the girl inside would wait a second longer. I remained rooted to the spot, a bitter laugh escaping me. So, Liam had already crossed the line and changed his heart during his daily interactions with Aurora Hayes. I looked down again; my phone screen was now filled with the torso photo Chase Miller had just sent, accompanied by a barrage of messages. [I’ve waited so long for you.] [Sister, do you really not miss me at all? But your puppy misses you so much.] I felt a little flustered by his relentless messages, but ultimately, I couldn’t resist. The moment I pushed open my apartment door, a fluffy head immediately nuzzled into my embrace. “I’ve been waiting forever.” Chase was wearing a black hoodie, his curly golden hair falling over his forehead as he crouched, looking up at me. “If you came any later, I’d turn into a pillar of stone, gazing for my wife.” He truly had the mannerisms of a puppy. I casually ruffled his golden hair. “I was busy just now, couldn’t leave.” Chase pouted in dissatisfaction. “Busy with what? You must have gone to see that Thorne guy again. Are you still thinking about him? I’m telling you, everyone in the City knows he’s a disloyal bodyguard, even daring to get involved with his employer’s daughter. Don’t let him fool you; he’s just a dirty, rotten…” “Chase Miller,” I cut him off. “I know what I’m doing, and it’s none of your business.” Chase’s eyes instantly widened, looking at me with a watery gaze. He looked hurt and pitiful. I really couldn’t bear it, and wanted to gently persuade him not to meddle in these things, that I could handle them myself. But before I could utter a word, Chase’s eyes already welled up. He suddenly raised his voice, a thick sob in his tone. “You’re yelling at me? You’re yelling at me because of that Liam Thorne!” The moment he finished speaking, he suddenly stepped forward, forcefully pinning me against the wall. Before I could react, warm lips pressed against my neck. First, soft kisses, which quickly turned into possessive nips and bites. Chase buried his face in my neck, his voice muffled. “You’re not allowed to like anyone else, Wendy Reed. You can only be mine.” His sudden, uncontrolled action made me furious. I pushed him away with all my might. “Chase Miller, you’re not thinking clearly right now. You need to calm down.” With that, I didn’t look at him again, opened the door, and quickly left. Chase was right about one thing: I couldn’t let go of Liam that quickly. Fifteen years of feelings—how could I just forget them? But Liam seemed to forget very quickly. I realized I had left some documents at the Hayes residence, and when I arrived, I was met with a scene of pure debauchery. “Oh, Liam… gently…” Ambiguous gasps and moans drifted from the living room. Aurora Hayes was sprawled half-naked on the leather sofa, her silk nightgown disheveled, pushed down to her waist. Liam was kneeling at her feet, two buttons of his shirt undone, his collarbone covered in lipstick marks. Aurora held a lady’s cigarette, deliberately grinding her foot against his shoulder. “Liam, keep going.” My steps faltered at the entrance, my gaze fixed on the man kneeling on the floor. In my memory, Liam was not easily swayed. Even when bullied by older kids in the orphanage, he wouldn’t lower his head or beg for mercy. If he didn’t want to do something, no one could force him. But now, that iron-willed boy was kneeling obediently, letting Aurora Hayes toy with him. Liam’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice was hoarse with desire. “Aurora, let’s go to the bedroom. There are cameras in the living room.” “Cameras?” Aurora chuckled softly. “Liam, have you forgotten? Is there any spot in this villa that doesn’t bear the traces of our lovemaking? The desk in the study, the hallway on the second floor, even the gazebo in the garden… My dad had the cameras removed ages ago. Who would dare to say anything?” Liam lowered his eyes, silently acknowledging her words, and continued his actions beneath her. Aurora still seemed to want more, raising a hand to cup his chin. “Liam, tell me, who’s better, me or Wendy Reed?” Liam’s voice was husky, tinged with a dazed passion. “Of course, you are, Aurora. You’re the best.” “What makes me better?” Aurora persisted, her fingertip tracing his cheek. “You’re gentle, cheerful, unlike her…” Liam paused. “Unlike her, who’s so much trouble, always distracting me.” Aurora smiled, satisfied. “Since you know, then just ditch that baggage already. A girl from an orphanage like her isn’t good enough for you.” Liam said nothing, just nodded slightly. Just then, Aurora suddenly looked up, her gaze sweeping towards my direction. The moment our eyes met, I saw the triumph and provocation in hers. She didn’t expose my presence, and I had no desire for a hysterical confrontation. I didn’t linger, gently closing the door, shutting out the sordid scene. I pulled my coat tighter as I walked through the streets of the City, and a cold drop suddenly landed on my nose. Looking up, I froze. Snow was falling in this city, which was perennially warm and humid. My fingertip caught a snowflake, watching it instantly melt into water. In a daze, my memory was pulled back to the orphanage years ago. Liam and I were both outcasts there. Because we were naturally quiet, we were often cornered and bullied by the older kids. He was half a head taller than me, and he would always shield me behind him. During those dark, sunless days, we were each other’s only light. Later, Liam was the one who pulled me out of that cage. We were penniless, wandering the streets of the City. When hungry, we picked up discarded bread; when cold, we huddled under a bridge for warmth. Back then, he stroked my head and said, “Wendy, one day I’ll make sure you have a good life.” I believed him. Until that day, we stumbled upon Aurora Hayes, the heiress of the powerful Hayes family, cornered in a dark alley by her family’s enemies. Liam, without a moment’s hesitation, grabbed a wooden stick from the ground and charged in. In the chaos, his arm was deeply cut, revealing bone, yet he stubbornly protected the young woman, who remained completely unharmed. Later, he came to me with a contract of servitude, his eyes holding a depth I couldn’t understand. He said the Hayes family would fund my education until I turned eighteen. But the condition was that he had to become Aurora Hayes’s personal bodyguard, never leaving her side. We agreed that on my eighteenth birthday, we would go to Switzerland together to see the snow. But he became increasingly busy. On my birthday, Liam told me on the phone that he had urgent business, then quickly hung up. I consoled myself, telling myself he was merely constrained by circumstances. But the photo I received on my phone told the whole story. In the snow in Switzerland, Liam, wearing a black coat, bent his head slightly to kiss the person in his arms. Aurora Hayes leaned against him, her eyes curving into a joyous smile. The snow fell heavier, landing on my face, icy and biting. I stumbled into a warm chest, carrying a faint scent of cedar. Chase Miller held a black umbrella, leaning down to brush the snowflakes from my hair. He frowned slightly, complaining with a touch of resentment. “You just left me without a word and ran off. And now you’re standing here alone in the snow. If you catch a cold, what will you do?” He rambled on, taking a hand warmer and tucking it into my palm, then unwound his scarf and wrapped it around my neck. I gazed at his constantly moving lips, and the frozen stiffness in my chest surprisingly began to thaw with a hint of warmth. Actually, Chase and I met entirely because of Liam. That year, Liam had already become Aurora Hayes’s personal bodyguard, and I constantly saw new bruises and scars on him. There was even one time I saw him shielding Aurora from drinks, being cursed at by a Hayes family relative, yet he could only lower his head and remain silent. I watched Liam trapped in the Hayes family’s gilded cage, doing dangerous, life-risking work, and my heart ached as if pricked by needles. Unable to bear his suffering, I scoured job listings and, relying on my mathematical talent, knocked on the doors of the Miller Group. The person who interviewed me was Chase Miller. He was the young heir of the Miller family, but without a trace of the typical arrogance. Looking at the proposal I handed him, his eyes lit up, and he slapped the table, saying, “Your mind, it’s a waste not to be in actuarial science.” Just like that, I became the Miller Group’s youngest actuary. Relying on those dense numbers and formulas, I saved a substantial amount of money. I had planned to tell Liam this surprise on my eighteenth birthday, when we would be watching the snow in Switzerland together. I would tell him that he no longer had to risk his life for the Hayes family, no longer had to be covered in scars—I could support both of us now. But what I got instead was him, with someone else, watching a snowfall I had dreamed of for years. “What are you staring at?” Chase’s voice pulled me back to reality. He reached out and squeezed my cheek. “Your face is all frozen white. Come on, I’ll take you for some hot noodle soup.” The umbrella tilted, shielding me from the swirling snow. The noodle soup was steaming, and Chase added a spoonful of chili oil to my bowl. “Oh, right, about studying abroad… have you thought about it? If you agree, you can’t back out.” My hand, holding the chopsticks, paused. It was then I remembered that study abroad application was still at the Hayes residence. After witnessing that scene just now, I hadn’t even thought to retrieve it. After a moment of hesitation, I pulled out my phone and dialed Liam’s number. “I left some documents at the Hayes residence. When is a good time for me to come and get them?” The moment I finished speaking, Chase suddenly leaned in close. His voice was low, but just loud enough for the person on the other end to hear: “Sister, eat more, otherwise you won’t have any energy tonight.” With that, he picked up a spare rib and placed it in my bowl. The breathing on the other end of the phone clearly hitched. After a few seconds of silence, Liam’s voice cooled. “Send me the address. I’ll bring them over.” I was taken aback, then quickly refused. “No need. The snow is falling so heavily outside, I…” He cut me off, repeating, “Send me the address.” I sighed helplessly and sent him my location. When Liam arrived, I was chastising Chase for his earlier behavior. “Wendy.” Liam stood outside the glass door, the hem of his black coat lifted by the wind. His gaze fell directly on my shoulder, pressed against Chase’s, and his face darkened. Chase, following my gaze, turned around, a smirk playing on his lips, an ambiguous smile. Liam didn’t look at Chase. He pushed the door open and walked straight to me, grabbing my wrist. “Come outside with me.” I stumbled, following his pace. He didn’t release my hand until we reached the street corner outside the restaurant. He handed me the sealed documents. I took them. He stared at me, complex emotions swirling in his eyes. “Is Chase Miller pursuing you?” The air instantly thickened. I fell silent. Liam’s frown deepened. “Stay away from him. A rich playboy like Chase Miller never lacks women throwing themselves at him. He’s just playing with you; how could he be serious?” His voice was urgent. “Wendy, just wait a little longer for me. I can’t get out of the Hayes family’s grasp that quickly.” “How long is ‘a little longer’?” My long-suppressed emotions finally erupted. “Is it one year? Two years? Or a lifetime? Liam, are you truly unable to leave, or are you just unwilling to leave?” I looked into his eyes, asking each word distinctly. “Just give me a straight answer. If you don’t love me anymore, then let’s part amicably and stop wasting each other’s time.” Liam’s face instantly turned grim. He clenched his fists. “I haven’t stopped loving you, don’t overthink it! I just need time.” Just then, Liam’s phone in his pocket suddenly rang. The screen displayed the name “Aurora.” His expression subtly changed. He glanced at me. “I need to take this call. I’ll talk to you later.” Without waiting for my response, he quickly walked to the side and answered. “Hello, Aurora… stomach ache acting up? I’ll be right there, don’t move.” He didn’t even look at me again, turning and rushing away. I stood rooted, looking at the documents in my hand, a cold smirk on my lips. If only Liam had paid a little more attention to me, he would have realized these were study abroad application forms.

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1 Three years after I buried the man who died saving my life in an earthquake, I watched him get married again. There he was, under the brilliant spotlights, his hand outstretched to welcome his bride. But Tristan froze, his face draining of all color as his eyes locked on mine. The same friends and family who had held me through my darkest nights of grief were now rushing to push me out, their voices a frantic whisper. “Anna, please. It’s a happy day. Don’t make a scene.” I sidestepped their grasping hands, my own voice so calm it felt alien. “So, all of this… all these years… my attempts to jump off buildings, the scars on my wrists… was all of that just some pathetic joke to you?” The music was the only thing that dared to move in the cavernous hall. Every single person avoided my gaze. Rosalind, the bride, stumbled forward and dropped to her knees before me, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Anna, I’m so sorry. But I truly love Tristan. I can’t live without him. Please, I’m begging you, let us be happy.” They formed a circle around me, a human cage meant to contain the hysteria they expected. But I just smiled, a quiet, hollow thing. It turns out the man who swore he’d love me for a lifetime really did die in that earthquake. 2 I helped Rosalind to her feet. “Rosalind, tell me. When did you know Tristan was alive? And when did you two get together?” A flicker of triumph, quick and sharp as a cat stealing cream, flashed in her eyes before it was drowned by a fresh wave of tears. She wept beautifully, her hand clamping around my wrist, nails digging into my skin. “Anna, I’m sorry… It’s all my fault, every last bit of it! But I… I just love him so much, I couldn’t control myself… That’s why I asked everyone to keep it a secret from you. We were all just so afraid you couldn’t handle the truth…” “Afraid I couldn’t handle it…” I murmured the words back to myself. Then, in one fluid motion, I snatched an empty wine bottle from a nearby table and smashed it against the corner. The sound was a sharp crack, and glass sprayed across the floor, catching the light like cruel, glittering stars. I gripped the jagged neck of the bottle, its menacing points aimed directly at Rosalind’s perfectly made-up face. “Ah!” she shrieked, a short, sharp sound of terror, her face turning a ghastly white. “Anna! What are you doing?” “Put that down! Don’t do something stupid!” The same friends who had just been telling me not to “make a scene” were now in a panic, trying to inch closer. “Don’t move!” I snarled, my wrist as steady as stone. The sharp edge of the glass moved an inch closer to Rosalind, almost brushing the tip of her trembling nose. “Anyone takes another step, and I can’t guarantee where this thing ends up.” They froze, paralyzed as if by a spell, their faces masks of horror. Rosalind was shaking uncontrollably, babbling. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk! It was… three days after the earthquake. We got together then.” Three days after the earthquake. So, while I was making my first attempt to die, drowning in a sea of grief and guilt, Tristan was whispering sweet nothings to another woman. It all made sense now. The hazy memory I had from the hospital, of seeing Tristan standing in the corner of my room, his face a mask of anguish and worry. When I woke up, everyone told me it was a hallucination, a side effect of the sleeping pills and blood loss. They cried as they held me, saying how heartbroken Tristan would be if he knew I was trying to hurt myself. I believed them. After that, I sank even deeper, using alcohol and pills to numb the agony, living in a private hell built from my love and guilt for him. It wasn’t a hallucination. He was probably there, not because his heart was breaking for me, but to make sure I wouldn’t die before he could run into the arms of his new lover. “Anna! Are you insane? Let Rosalind go!” A furious shout ripped me from my thoughts. A powerful force yanked me back. Pain shot through my wrist, and the broken bottle slipped from my grasp, shattering again on the floor. In the struggle, my ankle twisted with a sickening, sharp pain. My lower back slammed hard against the edge of the cake table, and a cold sweat broke out across my skin. Tristan, like a guardian angel, swept a trembling Rosalind into his arms, murmuring reassurances. “Shh, it’s okay, Rosie. You’re safe now. I’m here.” His voice held the same tender, protective tone that had once been mine alone. When he finally turned to me, his face was a complex mess of exhaustion, blame, and a deep, weary sorrow. He stared at me for a long time, the silence in the room so thick it felt solid, before his voice emerged, raw and raspy. “Anna, these past few years… I’ve failed you. I know I owe you everything, that nothing I do can ever make up for it.” He paused, searching for the right words, and then he delivered the line that turned my blood to ice. “I truly did love you. But I love Rosalind now.” I looked at the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, and I started to laugh. A wild, broken sound that soon dissolved into tears streaming down my face. Tristan was the boy I grew up with, my childhood sweetheart. But Rosalind… she had been my childhood friend, too. 3 In middle school, our school organized a charity drive to sponsor kids from struggling rural communities. That’s how I first saw Rosalind, in a photograph. A girl with enormous eyes, dressed in worn-out clothes, but her smile was pure sunshine. I saved almost every penny of my allowance to support her. When Tristan found out, he quietly started giving me half of his. Rosalind was deeply grateful. She’d send me packages of wild herbs and nuts she’d gathered from the mountains, her letters filled with wide-eyed dreams of city life and endless thanks. Eventually, she earned a scholarship to the university in our city. Tristan and I picked her up on her first day. I’ll never forget the way her eyes lit up, like twin flames, the moment she saw Tristan standing there, tall and handsome in a crisp white shirt. From that day on, she was a constant presence, always finding an excuse to be around us. I wasn’t stupid; I could see the way she looked at him. A teenage crush is impossible to hide. The sight of it felt like a ball of cotton stuck in my throat, suffocating me. I started to avoid situations where it would be the three of us, giving them space, giving myself a chance to breathe. Until one evening, Tristan cornered me in the alleyway behind my house. The setting sun stretched his shadow long and dark on the pavement. His eyes were red-rimmed with frustration as he stammered out his explanation. “Anna! Why are you avoiding me? There’s nothing going on with me and Rosalind, I swear! You’re the only one I’ve ever liked, since we were kids! I don’t like her! I promise!” It was the first time he’d cried in front of me since he was thirteen. He looked like an abandoned golden retriever. The tightness in my chest dissolved instantly, replaced by a wave of sweet relief. That night, Rosalind showed up at my door with a case of beer. She got completely wasted, sobbing in my arms all night. The next morning, her eyes were puffy and red, but she smiled and wished Tristan and me a lifetime of happiness. I didn’t understand the complicated storm of emotions in her eyes back then. I do now. It was a potent cocktail of resentment and unyielding envy. 4 Waves of pain from my back and ankle pulled me back to the present. I set down the bottle I was holding and looked for a chair. But every face I once knew now looked back at me with wariness and distance. They formed a protective wall around Tristan and Rosalind, treating me like a contagion. “Just let it go, Anna. It’s supposed to be a happy day.” “Yeah, what’s past is past. Making a scene won’t help anyone.” “Tristan still cares about you. Once Rosalind has the baby, they’ll get a divorce, and you two can be together again.” Their words swirled around me, a sickening blend of placating lies and the ghosts of their seemingly sincere comfort over the past three years. I lowered my gaze, refusing to look at them any longer, and silently pulled out the nearest chair to sit. I took out my phone. First, I messaged my best friend, asking her to send over the wedding dress I’d treasured for so long via a courier service. Then, I booked an Uber. With that done, I poured myself a glass of red wine from the table. “I didn’t mean to crash your wedding, and I didn’t bring a gift. But I’ve arranged for one to be delivered shortly.” I raised my glass. “Congratulations. May you have a long and happy marriage.” But before the glass could touch my lips, a large hand clamped down on my wrist. It was Tristan. He took the glass from me, his brow furrowed in that familiar, scolding way he always had when he was worried about me. It was a mix of exasperated affection I had known since childhood. “You know you can’t handle your alcohol. Don’t drink, or you’ll have a splitting headache tomorrow.” How ridiculous. He didn’t seem to care about the heart-splitting agony I’d endured believing he was dead, but he was concerned about a potential hangover. I suppressed the bile rising in my throat and met his gaze, my voice flat. “I can drink just fine now, Tristan.” Disbelief was written all over his face. He looked like he was about to argue when one of my aunts standing nearby spoke up awkwardly. “Tristan, for the past three years… Anna hasn’t been able to sleep without alcohol. I imagine her tolerance is quite high by now.” Tristan’s body went rigid. He stared at me, his eyes filled with a raw, disbelieving pain. He searched my face for any sign of a lie but found only a numb, placid emptiness. I was done with him. I glanced at my phone; the car was almost here. Gritting my teeth against the shooting pain in my ankle, I tried to stand. The moment I put weight on my foot, a lance of agony shot up my leg, and I stumbled. The next thing I knew, Tristan had swept me off my feet, holding me bridal style, and forced me back into the chair. “Don’t move!” he commanded, kneeling before me without a second thought. He gently took my swollen ankle in his hand. When he saw the angry purple bruising, his brow tightened into a knot. “How did this happen? It looks bad.” Seeing that familiar concern in his eyes, and then glancing past him to the barely concealed hatred in Rosalind’s, a wave of nausea washed over me. I yanked my foot back, repulsed by his touch. Just as I was about to speak, my phone rang. It was the courier. I told him to come inside. After hanging up, I saw a message from my best friend, Sarah, sent over ten minutes ago. [You haven’t let anyone even touch that dress for three years. Why are you having me send it to you now?] I quickly typed a reply. [I’ll explain tomorrow. Let’s meet.] My screen was immediately flooded with her question marks. As I was figuring out a short reply, the courier, conspicuous in his bright uniform, pushed through the crowd. “Delivery for an Anna?” I pointed a finger at Rosalind, who was still being sheltered by Tristan. Rosalind looked at Tristan, who gave her a slight nod. Hesitantly, she took the large garment bag. When she unzipped it, a shrill, strangled scream tore from her throat. She threw the box and its contents away from her as if it were on fire. “Ah! What is this?!” The bag fell open on the floor, revealing the wedding dress within. It was white, yes, but a long, ragged tear marred the skirt, and the fabric was stained with huge, shocking patches of dried, brownish blood. Our blood, from the earthquake.

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A business trip, one too many drinks, and I ended up in bed with my boss. I woke up in the middle of the night, sobered by sheer panic, and made a run for it. The moment I got home in the pre-dawn gloom, I scrambled to check my bank account. An hour later, my heart sinking with every passing second, I had no choice but to call my boss. “Mr. Kingsley? I was just calling to see if you were satisfied with the VVIP service I arranged for you last night.” Silence. Then, his signature deep voice, raspy with sleep and a faint London accent, crackled through the phone. “I was drunk, Abby, not erased. Now get your ass back here and pick me up.” Me: Picking you up is not an option. But I can arrange for you to be… disposed of. 1 The company had just transferred a new boss from our London office. Marcus Kingsley. Young, rich, and so handsome it was almost unfair. He made all the other so-called “elites” in the office, who had seemed perfectly presentable before, look like absolute trolls. In the two months he’d been with us, Marcus had proven himself to be low-key in person but extravagant in his methods. He’d silently bulldozed through a year’s worth of backlogged problems, solving them all without breaking a sweat. At the quarterly review, our department didn’t just become number one; we also walked away with the largest team bonus. The old-timers who used to mutter about “overseas transfers being all style, no substance” suddenly shut their mouths. They were now the first to offer a friendly word or try to claim some distant connection. And once everyone knew Marcus was single, the women in the office went on the offensive. Take Jessica, for instance, widely considered the office bombshell. Her skirts got shorter, and whenever she went to Marcus’s office, she practically tried to sign documents from his lap. But Marcus deflected every advance with infuriating, effortless grace. After six months, the female troops had all retreated, defeated and demoralized. One day, they were all gathered in the breakroom, comparing notes and discovering that none of them had succeeded. There was a certain camaraderie in their shared failure. After a round of jokes, someone’s gaze landed on me. “If I remember correctly, Abby’s the only one who hasn’t thrown herself at Mr. Kingsley. What’s the matter? Not your type?” Marcus Kingsley had a face that could start a war. He was lean in a suit, but you just knew he was hiding a body that was pure muscle. Who wouldn’t be tempted? Besides, with everyone else so obviously trying, saying I wasn’t interested would just make me sound arrogant. That’s a major workplace sin. So, I quickly defended myself. “No way! I threw myself at him long before you all did. He just wasn’t catching.” “When?” The entire room was suddenly buzzing with gossip. I pretended to think hard. “The day he started. My heel got stuck in the elevator gap, and I stumbled right into his arms. Total coincidence.” It was a true story. He had steadied me by the waist, a small smile playing on his lips as he’d murmured, “Careful.” “Pfft, that was an accident,” they all laughed. I laughed along with them, deciding to come clean. “Look, a handsome face is nice, but I’m a woman who loves her money. I’m on a mission to save two million dollars so I can quit the rat race and retire to my quiet hometown. Men are nowhere near as important as cash.” As soon as the words left my mouth, the glass door to the breakroom slid open. Marcus Kingsley stood there, phone in hand. I had no idea how long he’d been listening. “Abby,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Pack your bags. We’re going on a business trip. Here’s your chance to make some money.” Me: … Everyone else scattered like startled birds. 2 It was my first business trip with Marcus in the six months he’d been here. The driver, Ben, was already waiting downstairs. He saw me get out of my cab and even helped with my luggage. As we were chatting, Marcus came down, a laptop bag in one hand, deep in a phone call. He handed the bag to me, his eyes gesturing for me to get in the car first. I settled into my seat, and he continued his call for another couple of minutes. Through the window, I unabashedly sized him up. He really was gorgeous. A perfect six-foot-two frame, a meticulously styled haircut, a strong nose, and sharp, intelligent eyes. When he wasn’t smiling, he had an untouchable air, but when he did, he was like a dangerously charming fox. No wonder women were falling all over him. I’d heard rumors that models and actresses were pursuing him. Who would be the lucky one to finally snag him? Marcus hung up and pulled open the car door. Our eyes met. He gave me a quick, assessing glance, then another. I immediately straightened up, staring straight ahead, trying to suppress the frantic beating of my heart and project an aura of pure professionalism. Then I heard him speak. “Move over.” Three seconds later, I practically launched myself to the other side of the car as if the seat were on fire. “Oh! Right, of course.” Marcus got in and closed the door. As the car pulled away, I turned to stare out my window, my mind racing. Damn it, that was so embarrassing! 3 On the road, Marcus took two more calls before turning his attention to me. “You’re from Aspen Creek, aren’t you, Miss Clark?” “Yes, I am.” He smiled, his long fingers tapping a rhythm on his thigh. They looked strong. “Aspen Creek is beautiful. A real gem.” “You’ve been?” “My family used to spend summers there sometimes, to escape the heat.” I instantly pictured the ridiculously expensive summer villas in the new district of my hometown. A wave of resentment toward the wealthy washed over me. Strangely, that feeling steadied my nerves. “It is,” I said, my voice gaining confidence. “It’s a famous summer destination. They’ve built a lot of new tourist spots in recent years. It’s a great place to relax…” Once I started talking about my hometown, I couldn’t stop. It was, after all, the reason I was so obsessed with saving enough money to quit. “I’ll have to visit again sometime,” Marcus said, smoothly ending my monologue and transitioning to work. The task for this trip wasn’t complicated, but the client was notoriously difficult. Everyone who had tried to deal with him before had failed, which was why Marcus had to handle it personally. My own skills were in meticulous attention to detail, not in blazing new trails, which I guessed was why he’d brought me along. When we met the client, he was just as difficult as advertised. A slippery old snake. You’d talk about work, he’d talk about gourmet food, the stock market, investment opportunities. You’d bring up contract terms, he’d lecture you on the art of relationships, quoting ancient philosophers. It was enough to make even someone with my patience want to start throwing things. Marcus, however, remained calm, intercepting a glass of wine meant for me. “Mr. Peterson, why don’t we continue this tomorrow? I hear there’s another club with fantastic grilled fish.” “Excellent! It’s a date, then.” After we sent the drunken Mr. Peterson on his way, I stood fuming in the parking lot. “Mr. Kingsley, do you think he’s ever going to sign?” For a fleeting moment, a harsh, predatory light glinted in Marcus’s eyes, vanishing so quickly I thought I’d imagined it. “Oh, he’ll sign,” he said with a soft, dangerous laugh. “Or I’ll kill him.” 4 A shiver went down my spine. I felt like I had just glimpsed a very dark, very real side of him. So much for the refined gentleman. Marcus told me to get in the car. We’d both had a bit too much to drink, and the drive back was long. Before I knew it, I had drifted off. When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Marcus with his arms half-wrapped around me, his eyes closed, his head nodding with sleep. The slightest movement from me caused his hand to tighten on my shoulder, as if to keep me from sliding off the seat. I froze, not daring to move an inch. We finally pulled up to the hotel. Before Marcus could even open his eyes, I scrambled out of his grasp like a whirlwind, tossing a single sentence behind me as I bolted. “I think I’m gonna be sick! Going back to my room!” I didn’t dare look back to see his expression. Back in my room, soaking in the bathtub, my head started to clear. I splashed my hot face with water, trying to calm myself down. It’s just a hug, what’s the big deal? It’s common courtesy. He’s a gentleman. He wasn’t going to let his female colleague fall onto the floor of the car, right? He couldn’t possibly be interested in me. I was just overthinking it. With that thought, I relaxed. But just as I finished my bath, there was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” I called out. After a short pause, Marcus’s low voice came from the other side. “It’s me. Open the door…” … “Mr. Kingsley? Is something wrong? I was just about to go to sleep.” I could almost hear him gritting his teeth. “Just open the door.” I had no choice. I cinched my robe tight and went to the door, cracking it open just a sliver. I peered out at him through the gap. “What can I do for you, Mr. Kingsley?” He was still wearing the same clothes from dinner, though he’d ditched the jacket. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, revealing toned forearms that radiated raw power. He looked annoyed. He took a step back, planting his hands on his hips. “Come out here.” I shook my head. “To prevent myself from doing anything inappropriate to you, I think it’s best I stay in here.” Marcus looked up at the ceiling as if praying for patience, then tried to reason with the drunkard. “I’d like to see what kind of ‘inappropriate things’ you have in mind. Get out here.” I was resolute. “For the sake of my two-million-dollar retirement fund, I cannot risk offending my boss.” That was the last straw. With a huff of exasperation, he threw a small white box onto the floor in front of the door and stalked off. As he left, he shot one last threat over his shoulder. “You’d better remember that two million dollars for the rest of your life!” !!! 5 After he left, I picked up the white box. Hangover pills. He was actually kind of thoughtful. The next morning, looking at the opened box of pills on my nightstand, I cringed at the memory of my drunken antics. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I went downstairs and knocked on Marcus’s door to ask about the day’s plan. He opened it just a crack before turning and walking back into the room. His voice, cool and echoing slightly, floated out to me. “Miss Clark, if you can’t control yourself, you can deliver your reports from the hallway from now on.” I sighed in frustration. He was never going to let this go. I pushed the door open a little wider, slipped inside, and closed it behind me. “Mr. Kingsley, I brought you some breakfast…” I trailed off, my eyes widening at the scene before me. The six-foot-two man was standing by the fridge, drinking water, with nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. As he tilted his head back, a single drop of water traced a path down his long neck, over his sharp Adam’s apple, across a chiseled pec, and down his hard abs, finally disappearing beneath the edge of the towel. And the man was completely oblivious to how ridiculously tempting he looked. He finished drinking and turned to look at me, a smirk on his face. He let out a soft “Hah,” as if mocking me for being all talk and no action. “So, figured out how you’re going to have your wicked way with me yet?” he teased. My face flushed a deep crimson. I quickly looked away. “Mr. Kingsley, I was really drunk last night. Please, just make fun of me and get it over with.” He chuckled again, then turned and went into the bedroom to change without another word. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I really couldn’t handle him like this. We didn’t go out that morning. Marcus had me and another assistant review all our preliminary work from the beginning, looking for any oversights. If the problem wasn’t on our end, then our client had ulterior motives. Marcus supervised personally, double-checking every clause, especially the penalty fees and financial figures. He had changed into a pair of light grey casual pants and a matching knit sweater. The v-neck dipped just low enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of his impressive physique. Yet his demeanor was once again cool and refined, as if the man who had been teasing me in a towel was a different person entirely. When Marcus worked, he was meticulous. He could spot a misplaced comma from a mile away. His level of professionalism was undeniable. The problem was, he was also young, and handsome, and… sexy, and… “Daydreaming?” Lost in thought, I snapped back to reality. I’d been staring at his face for three solid minutes. I quickly recomposed myself, chanting my mantra: This is the time for making money, not for lusting after men. “You have a great eye for detail, Mr. Kingsley,” I said, offering a clumsy compliment. He leaned back in his chair, stretching. “Draft a new contract with these revisions and send it to Mr. Peterson. If he still won’t sign, we’ll put it on hold.” On hold? I thought he was in a hurry. I couldn’t keep up with his thought process. We sent the revised contract. It was met with radio silence. As expected, Mr. Peterson was still not satisfied. Just as he’d said, Marcus put the deal on hold. No more dinner invitations for Mr. Peterson. The next day, Marcus announced he was taking me to a private cocktail party. I was confused, but at the party, I saw him: Mr. Peterson’s boss. After a bit of schmoozing from Marcus, the big boss was practically beaming at us, expressing his enthusiasm for our company. My eyes lit up. Was Marcus planning to cut out the middleman entirely? Ha! When that bald old snake Peterson found out, he was going to lose his mind. I gave Marcus a mental thumbs-up. The man was a genius. Our efforts paid off. Not only did we land a massive deal, but we also bypassed the middleman, opening up a whole new, more direct business channel. On the night we celebrated our success, Marcus took a lot of drinks for me. As a result, both of us ended up completely hammered. On the way back, Marcus was walking straight, seemingly steady. But the moment we got in the car, he started trying to wrestle the keys from our driver, Ben. “Ben, you’ve worked hard. Go on, take the night off. I’ll drive.” Ben looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “Mr. Kingsley, you’ve been drinking! You can’t drive!” Marcus turned to me. “Did I drink?” I answered with perfect seriousness. “Nope. You drank amnesia water. Ah, give me a cup of amnesia water…” Ben looked like his head was about to explode. When we got back to the hotel, I heard Marcus waving Ben off in the lobby. “Thanks for everything. Go home.” “Are you sure you don’t need me to help you up, sir?” Ben asked, his voice laced with worry. Marcus shook his head. “I’m fine. I know the way.” And then, he steadily followed me into my room and collapsed onto my bed. I was drunk too, but at least I wasn’t causing a scene. I stared at him, exasperated. “This is my room.” He looked at me with grave seriousness. “I paid for it.” I was speechless. I was starting to suspect he was faking it. Annoyed, I tried to pull him up. “Get up. This is my bed.” He looked at me lazily, not budging. “Could be mine.” I snapped. “If you don’t get up, I’ll do something inappropriate to you.” Even drunk, his tone was laced with that same mocking challenge. “Hah,” he scoffed, then added in a slow, infuriating drawl, “Go ahead. I dare you.” Me: Deep breaths, Abby. Deep breaths. Hadn’t anyone ever told him not to use reverse psychology on a drunk person? Looking at this infuriatingly handsome mix of innocent college boy and refined gentleman, I lost all control and pounced. Whatever. He asked for it. The moment I lunged, he caught me, and in one smooth motion, flipped us over, pinning me beneath him. My last conscious thought before passing out was a big question mark. Didn’t that move seem a little too smooth, a little too… premeditated? Like a fisherman who had finally hooked his catch?

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“1 I was born sun-allergic—even a short exposure burned my skin. Overwhelmed, my father left. My mother divorced him at once, threw herself into work to pay for my treatments and became a powerful businesswoman, traveling the world with me to find a cure. At five, a psychic said a second child could be my spiritual shield. The next day, she brought home an orphan girl named Pearl. “Your job is to protect your sister,” Mom told her. Pearl smiled sweetly: “I’ll keep Mary safe for life.” Charming and Mom’s favorite, she was put in full charge of me. But Pearl hated me—she shone flashlights at me in the dark and lied to Mom about my misdeeds, acting perfect when Mom was home. I cried to tell the truth, only to be scolded: “Your sister is lovely, Mary. Be grateful.” Mom’s eyes grew colder, so I stopped speaking up, even hiding my blistered, bleeding wounds. On my eighth birthday, Pearl tricked me into staying in the sun all day. I knew I was dying. That night, two strange men came to my bed. “Before I die,” I whispered, “could I feel Mom’s love one last time?” The man in white sighed: “Swap souls with your sister for a day.” The man in black objected: “That’s against the rules.” Amid their argument, something went wrong—Mom’s soul entered my body instead of Pearl’s. … The white-suited man’s face, once pale, flushed a deep red. His impossibly long tongue shot out and wrapped around his partner’s neck. “Look what you’ve done! Now there are two souls in one body!” The man in black casually unwound the tongue with one hand and placed the other on my head. He smiled. “Technically, it’s one and a half.” “Half of her soul remains in her own body, and the other half will stay with you for a day. Are you willing, little one?” Feeling my mother inside me… it was the warmest I had ever felt. I smiled at them and nodded vigorously. Before they vanished, they spoke in unison. “We will return for you tomorrow.” 2 After they left, I tiptoed into my mother’s bedroom. The men had said she wouldn’t wake for another day. I tucked the blankets around her, making sure she wouldn’t get cold. She looked so peaceful. Content, I returned to my own bed, waiting for my mother’s half-soul to wake up and talk to me. But it wasn’t Mom I was met with. It was Pearl. She entered my room carrying a brand-new lamp. I dreaded those lamps. This one had a symbol on it: UVC MAX. I didn’t know what the letters meant, but I knew that light made my skin burn with a pain that was beyond words. This was the 99th lamp Pearl had brought home. She was always finding new ways to make me cry, to make me suffer. Instinctively, I pulled on my sun-protective hoodie and mask. Pearl ripped the hoodie off me, her voice sharp with anger. “What are you hiding for, Mary? You made a mistake. Don’t you know how to atone for your sins?” I stared at the lamp in her hand, trembling. I dropped to my knees, begging. “Pearl, I didn’t do anything today! I came straight home and went to my room. I didn’t even eat dinner.” She didn’t believe me. She ground her foot onto my hand, pressing down, her weight a crushing force. “You little liar! Fraud! Mom barely has time to come home, and you used it to tattle on me again, didn’t you?!” I tore my hand free from under her shoe, the sudden movement sending me sprawling backward onto the floor. I was terrified of her. I could only curl into a ball, protecting my head. “I didn’t, Pearl,” I whimpered. Her teeth were clenched. “You didn’t? Then why didn’t Mom hug me when she got home today?” I shook my head frantically. “She must have been tired from work. Pearl, I’m really not lying.” Her eyes were bloodshot in the moonlight, her mouth opening and closing like the witch from a fairy tale. “You spent the whole day in the sun. Why aren’t you dead yet?!” Without another word, she flicked the switch on the lamp. She aimed the harsh beam directly at my exposed face and arms. Agonizing pain spread like fire across my skin. The sores, already raw, began to bleed again. “Aah! Pearl, it hurts! Please, I’m begging you, please stop!” Perhaps it was the searing pain that did it, but at that moment, my mother’s soul woke up inside me. She was stunned, a silent observer to the horror. Pearl’s face was a twisted, ferocious mask in the pale light. It took Mom a moment to process it. Pearl, what are you doing?! Where did you get a lamp like that? You know your sister can’t be exposed to this light! But the girl before us didn’t flinch. She moved the lamp even closer. Mom panicked, using my small hands to push it away. Put it down! It’s me, Mom, do you hear me? Pearl looked at me as if I were insane. “Mary, you’ve really lost your mind!” Mom began to fight her, using my own small body. But even though we were the same age, my frail, weakened frame was no match for Pearl’s healthy one. After a brief struggle, Pearl shoved me hard to the ground. She loomed over me, her voice a low growl. “You’ve really gone too far this time, Mary!” The next second, she cranked the lamp to its highest setting. The intense light hit my arm, and the weeping, open sores were instantly scorched black. Blood and pus seeped through the fabric of my sleeve, spreading into a dark, crimson stain. “Aah! It hurts… It hurts so much!” I heard the screams, thin and desperate. That wasn’t my voice. It was my mother’s. For years, the burning, blistering pain had been a constant companion. I was numb to it. But my mother was not. This was the first time she had ever felt it. The agony made her groan inside my body, her every breath a shudder. A tight, sharp pain bloomed in my own chest, choking me, leaving me unable to speak. It was my fault. I was the one making my mother hurt like this. I glared at Pearl, my hand fumbling for something on the nightstand. With all the strength I had left, I threw it at the lamp. It shattered, sending shards of glass flying. One of them sliced Pearl’s cheek. She clutched her face, glanced nervously toward Mom’s room, and then turned back to me, her eyes filled with hatred. “Just you wait, Mary. I’ll deal with you tomorrow!” I looked down at what I had thrown. It was my favorite photograph. My heart ached as I picked it up. It was from before Pearl came, a picture of Mom holding me at Disneyland. We were both smiling so brightly then. I gently wiped a smudge off my mother’s face in the photo. After a long silence, she finally spoke inside my head. Mary, how am I in your body? And… has Pearl always been like this? I bit my lip, saying nothing. I was afraid that if I said the wrong thing, she would get angry with me again, just like before. When I didn’t answer, she asked again. Why didn’t you tell me? Then, she answered her own question. It’s my fault. You did tell me. It was me… it was me who didn’t believe you. Yes. I had told her three years ago. The first time was right after Pearl arrived. She “”fell”” down the stairs and blamed me. “Mary doesn’t like me,” she’d sobbed. “She thinks I’m stealing her mommy.” Back then, Mom had held Pearl in her arms and given me a look I had never seen before. The second time was shortly after we started elementary school. She hid my protective face mask during lunch. It was the summer solstice, and the sun was brutal. I was sick all over by the time I got home. “Pearl hid my mask,” I told Mom. But Mom found the mask in my bedroom. “Mary, you forgot it yourself. Why would you blame your sister?” She punished me by sending me to bed without dinner. When Pearl brought a tray of food to my room, my mouth watered. But just as I reached for it, she knocked it to the floor. Then she ran to Mom, crying, “Mary said she’d rather starve than see my face! Maybe I should just go back to the orphanage.” Mom stopped her, then turned to me, her voice furious. “Mary, if you bully your sister one more time, I’m sending you to the orphanage!” Pearl leaned against my mother’s shoulder, her body shaking with fake sobs, a triumphant smirk hidden on her face. That was when I understood. No matter what I said, my mother would never believe me again. I didn’t want to go to the orphanage. I wanted to stay with my mom forever. So there was a third time, and a fourth, and countless more after that. No matter how Pearl hurt me, no matter how much pain I was in, I never told my mother again. And now, I only had one day left to live. “It’s not your fault, Mommy,” I told her. “It’s my fault for being sick.” “Don’t be scared, Mommy. After tomorrow, you’ll be okay again. Just stay with me for one day, okay?” Her voice in my head was choked with tears. Mary, for these past three years, I was wrong… I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I promise, from now on, I will be with you for the rest of our lives. I desperately wanted to hug her, to tell her it was okay. But I couldn’t. And we didn’t have a lifetime. Still, to feel her this close to me… it filled me with a peace and happiness I couldn’t describe. That night felt like when I was very little. My mother and I talked for a long, long time. So long that I started to believe tomorrow would never come. 3 I woke early the next morning. Out of habit, I went to the kitchen trash can, picked out yesterday’s leftovers, and began stuffing them into my mouth. Mom’s voice was shocked. Mary, why are you eating out of the garbage? My mouth was full. “I didn’t eat at all yesterday,” I mumbled. “I’m so hungry I could faint.” “It’s okay, Mommy.” I peeled a hard-boiled egg I’d found. “See? This one is still clean.” This was my last day with her. I needed my strength. Where is your breakfast? she asked. Doesn’t anyone make you breakfast? I lowered my head, not answering. From the dining table, I could hear laughter. It was our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, scrolling through videos on her phone. Mom’s anger flared. Where is Mary’s breakfast? Mrs. Gable stared at me, a puzzled look on her face as if she’d never seen me before. “Pearl is the young lady of this house. Who do you think you are, shouting orders?” Mom was incredulous. Even the help treated me this way. She was about to lash out again, but I grabbed my backpack and fled the house. I knew that if I talked back to Mrs. Gable, she would punish me too. Once, when Mom was away, I had simply said, “Ma’am, I’m hungry.” She and Pearl locked me in my room for three days without food. When they finally let me out, they told me to eat with Sunny. Sunny was our guard dog. I was so hungry back then that even the dog food tasted good. So, for me, leftovers from the trash were a feast. Outside, Pearl was already in the car. As I put one foot inside, the door slammed shut. BANG. My fingers were caught in the jamb. The pain was so sharp it brought tears to my eyes. “Do you really think you deserve to ride in a car, Mary?” Pearl sneered. She turned to our driver. “Let’s go!” The car sped away, leaving me in a cloud of dust. I stood there, clutching my throbbing fingers. “Mommy,” I whispered. “I have to walk to school today. I’m going to be late. Are… are you mad at me?” Her voice was tight. So this is why you were always late? I nodded slightly. Halfway there, it started to rain. Luckily, I had an umbrella. But when I opened it, it was riddled with holes, big and small. This was the umbrella Mom had bought me at Disneyland when I was five. I loved it. But now it was ruined. Inside, scrawled in big red letters, were five words: MARY IS A PIG! I knew it was Pearl’s doing. Mom’s voice was a low growl. When I get back in my own body tomorrow, I’m going to make that girl pay! “It’s okay, Mommy,” I said, trying to soothe her. “Let’s just go to school.” I folded the broken umbrella and put it in my bag, walking on through the downpour. The rain got heavier, soaking my clothes through. The cold water seeped onto my skin, and a thousand tiny needles of pain pricked at me. Mom must have been hurting even more. Suddenly, I felt so stupid. I couldn’t even protect an umbrella. I was making my mother suffer with me. I was so sorry. The rain fell harder. My eyes felt wet, but I hadn’t cried in a very, very long time. It was my mother. She was crying. She didn’t speak for the rest of the walk. But I could feel her sadness, heavy and silent inside me. “

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My mom’s advice was simple: “Date the hot ones, marry the reliable ones.” So, at 24, I started dating Declan Ford. Declan was a notorious player. His motto: “Of all of them, you’re the one I love.” And me? I was a master of the game myself. My motto: “The only thing keeping me up at night is the thought of you.” Everyone who knew us thought we were a perfect, chaotic match. But a month ago, my mom was diagnosed with early-stage lung cancer. At the hospital, surrounded by so much loss and loneliness, I was suddenly struck by the desire to build a real home. I decided it was time to break up with Declan. 1 Declan rarely answered his phone, but finding him was never hard. He had a private booth at a downtown lounge, and out of 365 days a year, you could find him there on 360 of them. He was tall and devastatingly handsome; I could spot him in any crowd. Tonight, he’d just lost a drinking game and was sharing a drink, arm-in-arm, with some girl at the next table. When the girl saw me, she put on a sweet, innocent voice. “Oh, hi. We’re just playing a game. You don’t mind, do you?” “Of course not,” I purred, matching her tone. “You’re adorable. Why don’t you just move in with us?” My enthusiastic invitation earned me a dirty look. I turned to Declan, my voice trembling with faux hurt. “Declan, I think she hates me. Maybe I should just go.” I sighed dramatically. “But it’s raining, and I don’t have an umbrella. Maybe… maybe this young man could give me a ride?” I pointed to a college kid sitting nearby—sharp features, clear skin, and a tank top that showed off a pair of very solid biceps. Declan’s gaze shifted to the kid, scanning him from head to toe. The poor guy paled and started waving his hands frantically. “Whoa, no way. Don’t mess with me. Everyone knows Declan loves you more than anything.” Hearing that seemed to soothe Declan’s mood. He downed his drink, pushed the girl away, and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. “I’m heading out, guys,” he announced to his friends. “My girl’s getting jealous. Gotta take her home and calm her down. Drinks are on me tonight.” “Long live Declan and Isla!” someone shouted. Amid the cheers, Declan led me out. In the car, he kept glancing over at me. “Are you really mad? You know it’s all just for fun. Of all of them, Isla, you’re the one I love.” He said that line at least once a month. I was getting tired of it. If I weren’t so obsessed with his looks, we would have been over long ago. He turned those eyes on me—the kind of eyes that could look at a dog with soulful devotion—and leaned in close, his voice a low murmur in my ear. “Baby, what perfume are you wearing today? It smells incredible. Baby, I want…” “I want to break up,” I said, cutting through his spell. He blinked, a slow smile still playing on his lips as he raised an eyebrow. “Alright, baby. What role are you playing this time?” We had a habit of role-playing. When I didn’t answer, he continued, his tone playful. “CEO and his naughty secretary?” “Passenger and the flight attendant?” “Patient and the nurse?” “…” “Declan, I’m serious.” My face was deadpan. His smile finally faded. He toyed with his lighter in one hand, the other draped casually over the back of the seat. He was the very picture of a rich, careless playboy. “Fine, Isla,” he said. “Give me one good reason.” “You have too many women.” “Has anyone showed up at your door? Did you catch me in the act? Isla, I need hard evidence.” Thinking back over the last three years, I realized I didn’t have any. “I want to get married.” It was a well-known fact that players feared the chains of marriage. I expected this to be my trump card. Instead, he looked completely unfazed. “Pick a date. I’ll meet you at the courthouse.” To him, marriage was just a piece of paper. The whole ‘in sickness and in health’ thing was a joke. I had to press on. “My mom wants me to find someone reliable.” He tossed the lighter aside, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Then I’ll just have to ask your mother what part of me isn’t reliable.” My mom was just out of the hospital. I didn’t want him bothering her. “No, no, don’t! I was just kidding.” He pulled me back into his arms, planting a satisfied kiss on my lips. “I knew it. I knew my baby was just playing with me.” 2 Later that night, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced at the screen. Serena. His old flame. The one that got away. His friends had told me that I only got my chance with him because Serena had moved abroad. “Declan, your phone.” He came out of the bathroom with a towel knotted around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin, tracing a path from his neck down his chest… It wasn’t just his face. His body was incredible. It was the reason I’d been stuck on him for three years. I swallowed hard, burrowed under the covers, and pricked up my ears to listen. “Hello?” “Tonight?” “Okay. I’ll come get you.” He hung up and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Baby, something came up. Be good and stay here, okay?” A man getting a call from his old flame at one in the morning and then leaving? There was no way I wasn’t going to catch him in the act. The moment his car left the garage, I was right behind him. I waited for a full hour outside the apartment before knocking on the door. A girl in a white slip dress answered, a single braid falling over her shoulder. She looked pure and innocent. In contrast, I felt like a villain, shoving my phone in her face, camera rolling. “Isla, are you that desperate to catch me cheating?” Declan emerged from the bathroom, still wearing the same clothes he’d left in, not a single crease out of place. I frowned. This wasn’t right. Declan’s usual “sessions” lasted at least two hours. Seeing my phone, his expression darkened. “Isla, delete the video.” He reached for my phone. I clutched it to my chest and shook my head. “You’re the one who said you needed hard evidence.” “And this is your evidence?” “It’s the middle of the night. You can’t possibly be using her bathroom.” At my accusation, Serena burst into tears. Seriously? I was the official girlfriend. If anyone should be crying, it was me. Serena clutched Declan’s sleeve, her voice a small whisper. “Declan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.” I almost laughed. Honey, I was playing this game when you were still in diapers. I grabbed Declan’s other sleeve, my own voice dripping with hurt. “Declan, you can hit me, you can yell at me, but I just need to know. Between her and me, who do you love the most?” He pulled his arm free from Serena’s grasp and wrapped it around me, his hand tight on my waist as he whispered in my ear. “Baby, stop it. Delete the video. Be good.” For a second, I thought I had won. But no, he just wanted the video gone. I forced a few tears from my eyes. “So you choose her. Is that it, Declan?” I could see his patience wearing thin. “Just go home. I’m busy.” I pressed my advantage. “I’m sorry. I’m too clingy. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” His grip on my wrist tightened. Serena stepped in. “Declan, maybe you should go. I’ll be fine on my own.” At her words, he turned to me, his voice low and sharp with warning. “Isla, we can play games, but you’ve gone too far tonight.” So much for being a master. A single word from his old flame, and I was nothing. I shook his hand off and deleted the video right in front of him. Then I walked out without a word. That night, I moved back to my own apartment. But there was a heavy feeling in my chest. Maybe after hearing him say “I love you” a hundred times, the magic had started to feel real. But now it was clear. He loved Serena. At least, he loved her more than he loved me. 3 My mom was thrilled that I’d broken up with Declan. After her surgery, all she wanted was to see me settled down. She dragged me to a matchmaking service the very next day. “Miss Pierce, we have the $1,888 package, the $3,888 package, and…” “Give my daughter the most expensive one,” my mom declared. “Mom, you still have chemotherapy. We need that money.” “At my age, life and death are out of my hands. Your happiness is what’s important. We’ll take the best package you have.” The matchmaker’s face lit up. After taking our payment, she handed me a stack of files. “Miss Pierce, these are our most premium clients.” The photos were… uninspired. All I could see in my mind was Declan’s infuriatingly handsome face. “Miss Pierce, your phone is ringing,” the matchmaker said. The screen lit up with his name: Declan. “Hello?” “Isla, what the hell! I thought you deleted it!” Hearing the fury in his voice was surprisingly satisfying. I had deleted the video. But then, out of spite, I’d recovered it from my recently deleted folder and sold it to a tabloid for two thousand dollars. Now it was the headline on every gossip site. #Ford Heir’s Late-Night Rendezvous# #Scott Family’s Illegitimate Daughter Makes Her Move# So Serena was illegitimate. No wonder Declan had been so desperate to get rid of the video. I put on my sweetest voice. “Declan, I just saw the news. I don’t understand, I’m sure I deleted it. How could it have been leaked?” I sighed. “I’m so clumsy. I can’t even do a simple thing right. I’m sorry to cause you more trouble.” He actually laughed, completely forgetting we had broken up the night before. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.” I reminded him, “Declan, we’re not together anymore. Besides, I’m really busy right now.” “Isla, I never agreed to a breakup.” Typical player. Pining for his old flame while trying to keep me on the hook. When I didn’t say anything, he asked, “Busy with what?” “A blind date.” I hung up and pointed randomly at a file in front of me. 4 I chose the location for the date: Declan’s favorite lounge. No reason. I just wanted to annoy him. The man sitting across from me was handsome, easily on par with Declan. He even had a similar vibe. “Hi, handsome. I’m Isla.” He smiled and shook my hand. “A pleasure. I’m Grayson.” Grayson? The name sounded familiar. He stood up gallantly and pulled out my chair. His manners were impeccable. As soon as I sat down, I got straight to the point. “Isla Pierce, 29. Single mother, own my own house and car, decent savings. I’ve had three prior relationships.” “So Declan wasn’t your first?” How did he know about Declan? And how did he know I’d told Declan he was my first? Before I could figure it out, Declan appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Grayson by the collar, the veins on his hand bulging. I tried to stop him, but he was already shouting. “I already explained about Serena! I’m handling the video!” Damn it. And here I thought he was being impulsive for my sake. It was still about his precious old flame. I had officially lost interest. I went back to sipping my coffee, watching the drama unfold. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. I had gone to the wrong booth. My reservation was for 608. This was 806. And Grayson was Declan’s older brother. That’s why the name was familiar. What a disaster. I grabbed my bag to sneak away, but Declan caught me. “Declan, what are you doing? I have to go!” He ignored my struggles and practically shoved me into his car.

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