1 The day the true heiress, Lydia, came back, she threw everything out of my room. “I’m the real daughter of this family. You, the imposter, can get the hell out.” “Oh, and before you go,” she added with a sneer, “you can pay back the money you’ve cost my family for the last twenty years. Let’s call it half a million a year. Ten million dollars. Wire it directly to my account.” I silently held out my phone, displaying a QR code for the Heir Verification System. “Of course, Miss Lydia. But before we get to that, you’ll need to join the queue and await identity verification.” Lydia slapped my phone away. “Evelyn Ashworth, who the hell do you think you are, trying to stop me from reuniting with my parents?” “I’m not stopping you,” I explained patiently. “I’m just asking you to follow the process. There’s a line.” But Lydia, desperate to claim her new life, wasn’t listening. “You think someone like me waits in line? Just wait until I find Mom and Dad. You’ll be thrown out onto the street where you belong.” What Lydia didn’t know was that four hundred and ninety-nine people had come before her, all claiming to be the long-lost Ashworth heiress. My parents, overwhelmed, had long ago delegated the entire verification process to me. … Lydia cornered my mother by the elevators, just as she was leaving a board meeting. “Mom!” she cried, dropping dramatically to her knees. “It’s me! I’m your real daughter!” My mother didn’t even glance down. Her assistant, Alex, stepped forward immediately. “Miss, if you wish to make a claim, please use the online booking system.” Tears streamed down Lydia’s face on cue. “Mom! Please, just look at me! My life has been so hard…” My mother finally looked up. She checked her watch. “Thirty-six seconds. Five seconds slower than last month’s girl. Not a record-breaker, kid.” Lydia froze. “What?” My mother pulled out her tablet and swiped a few times. “Candidate YM37, Lydia, age twenty-two. Resides in a low-income apartment complex on the east side. Both parents deceased, completed university on a scholarship.” The color drained from Lydia’s face. “You… you investigated me?” My mother patted her shoulder. “The acting’s not bad, but the script is stale. I suggest you watch episode eight of The Heiress Swap. That girl gave a much more convincing performance.” And with that, she was gone. At three in the afternoon, my father was doing his rounds at the Ashworth Department Store. Lydia appeared again, this time with a new strategy. “Dad!” she called out, holding up a photograph. “Look, I looked just like you when I was a child!” My father took the photo and examined it. “Nice photoshop job,” he said dryly. “But next time, remember to make the ears smaller. The Ashworths don’t have ears that big.” Lydia grew frantic. “But this is really me!” “Kid,” my father sighed, “last year, someone came to us with an AI-generated deepfake video. The technology was far more professional than this.” He handed the photo back to her. “Go find Evelyn. She handles these things.” Lydia stomped her foot in frustration. “Dad! How can you be so heartless?” “Call me Mr. Ashworth,” he said, not even turning back. At eight that evening, my grandmother’s private jet landed. Lydia had been waiting in the VIP arrivals lounge for hours. “Grandma!” she cried, kneeling and bowing her head to the floor. “I’m your real granddaughter!” My grandmother, still groggy from the flight and the time difference, squinted at her. “What number is this one for the year?” Her bodyguard replied, “The fifty-seventh, ma’am.” Grandma nodded. “Does she have an appointment?” Lydia was stunned. “N-no…” “Then that won’t do,” Grandma said with a wave of her hand. “Last year, a girl knelt at the airport for three days straight before we made an exception and squeezed her in.” She had the bodyguard help Lydia up and tucked a business card into her hand. “Here’s my granddaughter’s contact info. Schedule an appointment first.” Lydia looked down at the card. It read: Evelyn Ashworth, Head of Heiress Claims. Her face turned a sickly shade of green. 2 The next day, Lydia stormed into our house. “I want a DNA test!” she slammed her hand on the table. “Now! Right now!” My parents exchanged a weary glance. “Honey,” my mother began, “it’s not that we’re unwilling…” “You’re scared, aren’t you?” Lydia sneered. “Scared the test will prove I’m the real one.” My father rubbed his temples. “We had our blood drawn thirty times last year. We’ve already done it fifteen times since January. My doctor says I’m on the verge of becoming anemic.” Lydia was speechless. I walked in, carrying a tray of tea. “Actually, there are other ways.” “What ways?” she eyed me suspiciously. “Hair or nail clippings,” I said. “The technology is very advanced now; a blood sample isn’t always necessary.” Lydia’s eyes lit up. “Then let’s do it now!” I smiled. “We can. But you’ll still have to wait in line.” “What line?” “There’s a monthly quota for my parents’ hair and nail samples. This month’s is already full. There are over two hundred samples ahead of you in the queue for testing. The earliest slot for yours would be next month.” Lydia exploded. “Evelyn Ashworth! You’re doing this on purpose!” I shrugged. “I’m just following procedure.” Lydia couldn’t wait. She paid twenty thousand dollars to a scalper for an expedited appointment slot. This got her into the “Token Authentication Room” on the third floor. She strode in, head held high like a proud rooster. “I have the keepsake!” she declared, pulling out half of an ornate silver locket. “The nurse at the hospital gave this to me back then! It’s one of a kind!” The staff member, a young man named Kevin, took the locket and scanned her appointment barcode. “Candidate YM37, Lydia. Keepsake category: Locket.” Kevin read from his screen. “We currently have 287 items registered under the locket category.” Lydia’s smile froze. “How many?” “287,” Kevin confirmed, pulling up the data. “143 of them are halves, and 144 are complete.” “That’s impossible!” she shrieked. Kevin offered a polite smile. “It started with two halves that fit together. Then it evolved into quarters. He gestured to a website on his monitor. “Now we even have a ‘Locket Shard Jigsaw Puzzle’ service. Ninety-eight dollars, free shipping.” Lydia looked like she was going to be sick. I patched my voice through the room’s intercom. “Miss Lydia, your locket appears to be a ‘standard edition.’ Market value is about three hundred and eighty dollars.” Lydia whipped her head around, searching for the camera. “Evelyn Ashworth! You set me up!” “It’s called market research,” I replied cheerfully. But she wasn’t done yet. “I also have a birthmark!” She pulled down the collar of her shirt. “A butterfly on my left shoulder! It’s unique!” Kevin sighed and pulled up another database. “Of the 500 ‘heiress’ candidates who have registered this year, 108 claim to have a butterfly-shaped birthmark.” Lydia’s eyes widened. “How many?” “108,” Kevin repeated, enlarging the data visualization. “76 on the left shoulder, 32 on the right.” “But mine is different!” Lydia insisted. “It has a special shape!” Kevin nodded. “Yes. Candidate #43, Candidate #87, and Candidate #201 said the same thing.” He clicked through a gallery of photos. “#43’s butterfly has spots, #87’s has stripes, and #201’s is, and I quote, ‘rendered in 3D.’” Lydia’s lips trembled. “Impossible…” I couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “Miss Lydia, perhaps you should add a tattoo? Tattoos are now being accepted as potential authenticating marks.” Furious, she hurled her teacup against the wall. “You’ll have to pay for that,” Kevin said, instantly printing an invoice. “Custom-ordered porcelain. Two thousand, eight hundred dollars.” She still wouldn’t give up. “I look just like Mrs. Ashworth when she was young!” she pointed at a portrait on the wall. “Look at me!” Kevin sighed again and turned on the projector. An image of another young woman appeared on the screen. She didn’t just resemble my mother; she was a stunning mix of my mother, my father, and even my grandmother. “We refer to her as the ‘Family Portrait Composite,’” Kevin explained. “She won last year’s ‘Most Ashworth-like’ award.” 3 Lydia was quiet for three days. But I knew she was plotting something. Sure enough, she showed up at the Ashworth family’s quarterly gala. Halfway through the evening, a piercing shriek cut through the chatter. “My necklace is gone!” Lydia cried, clutching her throat. “It was a birthday gift from my foster mother!” The entire ballroom fell silent. All eyes turned to her. Lydia sobbed, “It was right here just a moment ago…” Her gaze swept the room before landing squarely on me. “Miss Ashworth,” she said, her voice trembling, “you were just in the powder room, weren’t you?” I raised an eyebrow. “I was.” “Well…” she hesitated for dramatic effect, “could I… could I just take a look inside your purse?” A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. My mother frowned. “Young lady, what exactly are you implying?” Tears welled in Lydia’s eyes again. “Mom, I don’t mean anything by it, I just want to find my…” I laughed, cutting her off. “Fine,” I said, handing her my clutch. “Be my guest.” Lydia took the purse and made a show of rummaging through it. Then, with a theatrical gasp, she “accidentally” tipped it upside down. Its contents spilled onto the floor. Lipstick, keys, a phone. And a glittering diamond necklace. “I found it!” Lydia exclaimed. “This is it!” She snatched the necklace and stared at me, her eyes brimming with tears. “Miss Ashworth, why would you…” “Lydia,” I interrupted, my voice calm and clear. “Do you know why the Ashworth ballroom is equipped with 128 security cameras?” She froze. “What?” I pulled out my phone and played the surveillance footage on a nearby screen. The video clearly showed Lydia sneaking up behind me and slipping the necklace into my open purse. “Over the past three years,” I announced, pulling up a file from our database, “a total of 47 ‘heiresses’ have attempted this exact stunt.” A staff member near the stage chimed in, “This marks the 48th time. Can we please get some new material?” I picked the necklace up from the floor. “And another thing… I bought this last week. I still have the receipt.” I looked directly at her. “Where’s yours?” Lydia’s face was a mask of fury and humiliation. “Is this how the Ashworth family treats their own daughter?” My grandmother let out a cold laugh. “The last person who said that is currently serving a five-year prison sentence.” Lydia fled the ballroom. The next day, the tabloids exploded. #AshworthHeiressInLateNightRendezvousWithRivalExec The accompanying photo showed me helping a man into a car. The angle was deliberately misleading, making it look like we were kissing. I glanced at the source: a notorious paparazzi blogger. I scrolled through the comments. “Here we go again. How many is that this year?” “The last guy who tried to pull a stunt like this had to pay a $5 million settlement.” “Dude, I’d delete this post. The Ashworth legal team is faster than Amazon Prime.” I posted a response on my public social media account: “Thank you, Lydia, for the free publicity on my new green energy project. And for helping me set a new record for the fastest lawsuit filed.” Attached was a photo of the freshly filed court documents. Lydia panicked, deleted the post, and vanished. On the third day, Lydia somehow got her hands on a visitor’s pass and snuck into the company headquarters. She walked into my office carrying a cup of coffee. “Miss Ashworth,” she said, keeping her head down. “I’m sorry about yesterday…” I didn’t take the cup. “Just put it on the desk.” She set it down but didn’t leave. “Is there something else?” I asked. She bit her lip. “Can you forgive me?” I smiled faintly. “You should probably go now.” She turned to leave, her shoulders slumped in defeat. I picked up the coffee, sniffed it, and then pressed a button on my desk console. “Miss Lydia is suspected of attempted poisoning,” I announced into the intercom. “Please escort her for questioning.” Lydia whipped around. “You’re lying! I didn’t do anything!” I pointed at the cup. “Did you know that all Ashworth corporate drinkware is custom-made?” She stared, confused. “There’s a chemical sensor at the base,” I explained, showing her my phone. “It can detect most common substances.” The screen displayed a clear alert: LAXATIVE DETECTED. 23rd attempt this year. Lydia’s face went white. “That’s… that’s impossible!” Security guards rushed into the room. “You can’t do this to me!” she shrieked as they took her arms. I held up a thick binder of files. “I can,” I said coolly. “Based on the eighty-nine individuals who have tried this in the past five years. All of whom were successfully prosecuted.” As they dragged her away, she was still screaming, “Evelyn Ashworth! You just wait! I’ll be back!”

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Just as we arrived at City Hall, Dominic leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Actually, I have a child.” He looked at me, his expression earnest. “This certificate… I can’t give it to you. But I can give you everything else.” I stared down at the marriage license application in my hand, my mind blank. It took a long moment before I could force out the words. “Why… why didn’t you tell me before?” Dominic shrugged, a smile playing on his lips that wasn’t quite an apology. “I thought you cared more about me than a piece of paper.” “What if I insist on the certificate?” My lips trembled as I asked. He couldn’t know. Without that piece of paper, he wasn’t just facing a broken engagement. He was facing one body, two lives. … Dominic didn’t answer right away. He just watched me, his gaze calm, as if my question was utterly redundant. After a long silence, he sighed and gently wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “Her family saved my parents’ lives,” he said softly. “They’re old family friends. I love you, Anya, but she has to be my wife.” Rage, bitterness, and despair churned in my chest, a toxic bile rising in my throat. He guided my stunned form into his Maybach, continuing his explanation. “The child… it only happened because they drugged me. My family’s condition for letting you in was that I had to keep the child.” He paused, turning his head to look at me. “Anya, I have no feelings for her.” “You love me, not some piece of paper…” But it wasn’t just a piece of paper. It was my life. It was my right to stand by his side, the only thing that guaranteed the child in my belly could be born. The system’s cold, mechanical voice suddenly exploded in my mind, repeating over and over: MISSION FAILURE: TARGET ACQUISITION FAILED. TERMINATION IMMINENT. YOU HAVE 48 HOURS REMAINING. I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing down the storm of emotions. I clutched his sleeve, my voice a desperate plea. “I don’t care about the other child. I just want the certificate.” Dominic’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. “You want me to risk my inheritance, to go home and start a massive fight to divorce her, all to give you a piece of paper?” “Anya, when did you become so selfish?” With that, he yanked his sleeve from my grasp. The sudden movement felt like a physical blow to my heart. I stared at the reflection of the man in the car’s mirror. He was still the picture of aristocratic grace, his features as handsome as ever. But the tender affection in his eyes had been replaced by a sharp edge of impatience. Tears came faster than thought, splashing onto my open palm. Dominic, seeing my tears, softened. He took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed my cheeks. “I promise you, I’ll be yours. The title of Mrs. Croft will be yours in all but name. Even my assets will go to you and our future children. Stop crying… please?” He spoke words he thought were the epitome of devotion, but they only silenced me further. He thought my obsession with the certificate was about the status and the inheritance it brought. “I’m giving you a choice,” he said, his index finger toying with a strand of my hair. He looked at me with absolute certainty. “Either we proceed with the ceremony as planned, or…” It was the same look he’d given me five years ago when he knelt before me with an armful of tulips, promising me a home. The same certainty that I would never, ever refuse him. Our eyes met. I said nothing. My hand rested on the slight curve of my stomach. I stroked it for a long moment, then nodded. Dominic, I’m giving you a choice, too. Either you be a father to my child, or you can prepare to bury us both. As if to punish me, Dominic dropped me off at my apartment and left immediately. I got into a taxi and followed him to Tulip Hills. The villa, which I had suggested multiple times as our marital home, only to be refused, now held the silhouette of another woman. The moment Dominic’s car stopped, she threw herself into his arms. He expertly scooped her up, carrying her through a sea of flowers glowing in the sunset, before pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips. I watched, frozen, from the window of the taxi, tears blurring my vision. The driver, seeing my distress, silently passed me a tissue. “Miss, it’s not a good life, being the other woman…” My lips trembled. I wanted to scream that I wasn’t the other woman. I was the one he loved. But the words that came out were a choked whisper. “Who said they were… husband and wife?” The driver chuckled softly. “In my line of work, you learn to read people. The way that man looks at her, it’s like he’s devouring her with his eyes. Who wouldn’t believe they’re married?” I slowly covered my mouth, tears seeping through my fingers. He was right. Only a fool like me would have believed Dominic’s lies about not loving her. It all made sense now. The few days every month he would disappear. The unanswered calls, his secretary’s feigned ignorance. The way he’d lounge on the sofa, telling me I was being too picky about the wedding details while I was drowning in arrangements for the venue, the photos, the invitations. It made sense why the jewelers looked at me with such pity when he brought me in to design our rings. Why his friends always called me the “little wifey”—I thought it was because I was young, but it was because he already had the real one. It made sense why his parents always looked down their noses at me. Who wouldn’t despise the homewrecker who was ruining their son’s marriage? I pulled my gaze away and wiped my face. “Let’s go, sir.” As the engine rumbled to life, a message from Dominic popped up on my phone. Meeting with a client. Don’t wait up for me. Sleep well. As he typed that message, he was holding her, his eyes soft with a love I now knew was a lie. For the first time, I didn’t reply. I just turned off the screen. The system, I remembered, had given me two targets at the start. If he had just been honest with me, I wouldn’t have clung to him like this. Five years. One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days. He’d had countless chances to tell me the truth. But he hadn’t. He had just wrapped me in a cocoon of false tenderness. I stumbled out of the taxi, feeling hollowed out. As I looked up, I saw Dominic standing at the door to my apartment, already changed into casual clothes. Seeing the look on my face, he rushed over, taking my coat with one hand and wrapping the other around my waist. I couldn’t stop the image of her, smiling in his embrace, from flashing in my mind. A wave of nausea rolled through me. As he leaned in to kiss me, I shoved him away. I ran to the bathroom and threw up until nothing but bile was left. Dominic pounded on the door, his voice frantic. “Anya! Anya, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” “Open the door! I’ll take you to the hospital!” Involuntary tears mixed with the saliva at the corner of my mouth. I remembered a camping trip, back when we first met. I had a fever of 104. He had been just as frantic then, carrying me barefoot from the mountaintop all the way down to the base. It wasn’t until I was on an IV drip that I saw his feet were covered in blood. I’d told him to get them treated, my eyes red with worry. He had refused, insisting on waiting until I fell asleep. The entire city’s elite envied me for finding such a devoted man. He’d buy out entire auctions for me. Luxury cars and jewelry were delivered like groceries. He had broadcast his proposal on every public screen in the city. He even had my initials tattooed over his heart. The irony was crushing. He was already someone else’s husband, someone else’s father. When I finally opened the door, my composure was back in place. Dominic pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice trembling. “Why didn’t you answer me? You scared me to death…” I pushed away and held out the pregnancy test in my palm. I asked him one last time, my voice deceptively calm. “This child. Are you willing to give him a name?” Dominic stared, then his brow furrowed. He didn’t take the test. There was no surprise, no shock, no joy. Just a complex, scrutinizing look. “Anya. To get a certificate, you’d go this far? You’d fake a pregnancy to trick me?” He grew more agitated as he spoke, not giving me a chance to defend myself. “My mother was right. People from your background… your worldview is just too small.” Without another glance, he swatted my hand away. The pregnancy test clattered to the floor. Like my shattered heart. I instinctively bent to pick it up, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over. I sniffled, bit my lip, and looked at the man standing under the lamp. “You never trusted me,” I said, my voice shaking. “In your eyes, I’ve always been nothing more than a gold-digger.” “That’s why you feel no guilt, even after deceiving me for five years with a wife and child.” “That piece of paper you dismiss so easily? To me, it represents two lives. Two futures. What’s wrong with fighting for the child I’m carrying, for the five years of love I gave you?” “Dominic, you shouldn’t have done this to me.” I didn’t want to cry. But I couldn’t stop. The tears streamed down my face and into my mouth, a taste more bitter than the death I’d faced from terminal illness in my original world. I clutched the test stick and stared at him. The warm light was the same. He was the same man. But the tenderness was gone from his face, replaced by an expression of utter disbelief. Even his voice was laced with accusation. “Anya, what are you talking about? What lives? What futures?” “I understand you’re angry, but I gave you a choice. You agreed to proceed as planned. Why are you throwing this insane tantrum now?” “First a fake pregnancy test… what’s next? A forged doctor’s report?” As he spoke, he scanned the room, and his eyes landed on a document on my vanity. He shoved past me and snatched it up. Without even looking at it, he ripped it to shreds. As the paper fragments snowed down around us, his voice was tight with suppressed fury. “Take the next two days. And calm the hell down.” His footsteps faded, followed by the slam of the door. I was left frozen in place, still clutching the test stick. Outside, the city lights twinkled. Inside, the proof of my child’s existence lay in pieces on the floor. I knelt, slowly gathering the scraps, trying to piece them back together. But they were too small, too torn. Impossible to restore. Just like us. No matter how much Dominic pretended, he couldn’t change the fact that he was a liar and a cheat. And just like my child and me. No matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t change the fact that his father didn’t want him, and that we were both about to die. The apartment was silent, except for the incessant pinging of my phone. Several messages from Dominic. I’m sorry, Anya. I was angry just now. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. But I don’t want to hear any more of that crazy talk. Just wait, and be my beautiful bride. The dress and rings are ready. The invitations have been sent. I’ve invited hundreds of media outlets. The day after tomorrow, I will make you the happiest woman in the city. Almost simultaneously, a dozen texts came in from an unknown number. Anya, you’re so pathetic. The man you’re so proud of? I’ve slept with him. The wedding dress you’re so excited about? I’ve already worn it. The ring? I’ve tried it on. Do you even know what the day after tomorrow is? It’s my son’s birthday. You’re having your little ceremony on my son’s birthday. Dominic really put a lot of thought into this for you, didn’t he? I stared at the words for a full fifteen minutes. I thought I would be heartbroken, that I would cry. But all I felt was a profound numbness. Dominic, your thoughtfulness deserves a special gift in return. MISSION FAILURE. 12 HOURS UNTIL TERMINATION. I ignored the system’s warning, swinging the hammer in my hand with all my might. The clay figurines we had made together shattered into dust. I took a pair of scissors to the giant wedding portrait, leaving it in tatters. I emptied the closets, donated the jewelry, and threw out the custom-made dolls he had given me. This apartment, the one he used to call our “love nest,” was now an empty, desolate ruin. At 8 PM, right on schedule, Dominic called. “Anya. Tomorrow is our big day. Are you happy?” “I’m at my parents’ house tonight. I’ll go straight to the venue tomorrow and wait for you.” His voice was as calm and confident as ever. He knew my deep-seated craving for a family, a product of my loveless past. He was certain I wouldn’t abandon him now. This was just a routine check-in call. “I’m happy,” I heard myself say, my voice flat and distant. “Good. Get some sleep, rest up. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He muffled the receiver, but I could still hear the tinkling laughter of his wife, Seraphina, in the background. I hung up and closed my eyes, letting sleep take me. I paid no mind to the system’s relentless countdown. The next day was bright and sunny. The venue was filled with the city’s elite. I heard someone whisper, “Dominic is so generous. Throwing such a lavish party for a mere mistress…” “It’s not a wedding, you fool, it’s a public declaration. He’s solidifying his position as heir while keeping both women. Don’t you get it?” I acted as if I heard nothing, walking toward the man on the raised platform. Standing beside him was a woman and a young boy—Seraphina and their son. His parents stood behind them. A perfect three-generation family. And I, the bride, looked like the third wheel who had crashed their party. The moment Dominic saw me, his expression changed. “Anya, why aren’t you wearing the white gown?”

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The night before my wedding, I walked in on my fiancé and my sister. In the aftermath, a chorus of voices urged me to be the bigger person. “Scarlett, Asher and your sister are in love,” my mother said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Just let them be. Be gracious. Let your sister have him.” “That’s enough, Scarlett,” my father added, his voice weary. “We’re all family here. Let’s not make a big deal out of this.” Even Asher, my fiancé, just stood there with his head bowed, silent. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. That night, I packed a bag and left New York. As I walked out the door, my mother’s final words were a threat. “If you leave today, consider our relationship over. Don’t you ever come back! We won’t be there for you. If you die in a ditch, don’t expect us to claim the body.” I didn’t even turn around. “Fine. Then it’s over.” The wedding went on as scheduled. The only thing that changed was the bride. And for six years, I never went home. … Six years later, I was back in New York. After the awards ceremony at the military base, I ran into Asher Vance again. “It’s been a long time, Scarlett Ross.” The familiar voice stopped me just as I reached the main gate. I looked up and met his eyes. Six years had only made him more handsome. He wore a crisp white shirt, dark jeans, and a black trench coat. His hair was short and sharp, and he stood tall, watching me. “A long time,” I replied with a calm smile. The quietness of my tone seemed to startle him. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Mom and Dad know you’re in town for the ceremony. They’ve made dinner. Why don’t you come by tonight?” The “Mom and Dad” he referred to were my parents. I nodded. “Alright. Six years. I suppose it’s time.” Seeing my agreement, a flicker of relief crossed his face before he turned and left. An hour later, my custom-built Jeep rumbled to a stop in front of the old apartment complex, its rugged frame a stark contrast to the dated buildings. I got out and looked toward the home I hadn’t seen in years. So much had changed. The narrow, old lane was gone, replaced by a row of polished brownstones. The corner bodega was now a chain grocery store. The willow tree that used to stand at the end of the block had vanished. As I walked, I was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Even old Mr. Henderson from next door had moved away. Finally, I stood before the door to apartment 502 and rang the bell. My mother opened it. She was wearing an oil-stained apron, and streaks of silver now ran through her dark hair. She just stared, frozen. I was the one to break the silence. “Mom.” She snapped back to reality, her eyes taking in my crisp, decorated Army uniform, my confident posture. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Scarlett. You’re back. Come in, come in and sit down.” Her nervous excitement was a stark contrast to my own placid calm. I stepped inside and slipped on the guest slippers she offered. The once dim and cramped living room was now bright and spacious. The sofa was new, the coffee table was clear of clutter, and a vase of fresh lilies sat in the center. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the display cabinet flanking the television. It was still filled with my sister Seraphina’s awards, a shrine to her achievements from childhood to adulthood. Just then, my father emerged from the kitchen carrying a platter of roasted chicken. He gave me an awkward smile. “You’re back. I saved you a piece of chicken.” When we were kids, my sister always got both drumsticks. Always. “No, thank you,” I said evenly. “The army has strict dietary regulations. I can’t eat anything prepared outside our facilities. I can’t stay long anyway.” A flash of embarrassment crossed my father’s face. The noise must have carried, because Asher and my sister, Seraphina, came out of the kitchen. Seraphina’s hair was in a low bun, and she wore a pair of delicate gold-rimmed glasses. Dressed in a white knit sweater and a camel-colored coat, she had the air of a sophisticated, mature woman. Her eyes darted away when she saw me. I barely touched my food during dinner, sitting at the table like a stranger while the other four chatted about people I didn’t know and events I had no part in. When the meal was winding down, I glanced at my watch and stood up. “It’s getting late. I should be going.” My mother immediately spoke up. “You’re not staying the night? We haven’t seen you in so long. Stay, we can catch up.” I asked a simple question. “Is there a room for me?” The old apartment had three bedrooms. One for my parents, one for my sister, and one they rented out. I slept on the living room couch. My question hung in the air. My mother’s face flushed with the memory. “In this new place… yes. We saved a room just for you. The sheets, the comforter… they’re all brand new. I just washed them.” I simply shook my head at her peace offering. “That won’t be necessary. The army has provided me with accommodations.” With that, I picked up my jacket and walked out the door. The next day, after visiting a few scenic spots upstate, I got a call from my mother. I hesitated for a second before answering. “Scarlett,” she began, “you barely ate anything last night. Did you not like the food?” “Your father booked a table at The Gilded Swan. Please, have dinner with us tonight. Will you?” In all my memories, my mother had never spoken to me with such a pleading tone. It was always demands and accusations. The image of the silver in her hair flashed in my mind. “Alright,” I agreed. “I’ll be there.” When I walked into the private dining room, I froze. In addition to my parents, Asher, and Seraphina, there was a man I’d never seen before. My mother quickly pulled me down to sit beside her. “I thought this was a family dinner,” I said, confused. “Who is this?” Seraphina spoke up. “Scarlett, a colleague of Asher’s from the Chess Club happens to be single.” “He’s a Grandmaster,” she continued. “A professional player. Very accomplished, very driven. We thought it would be a good opportunity for you two to meet. If you settle down, Mom and Dad can stop worrying.” “And if it doesn’t work out, you’ve made a new friend,” my father added quickly. “Someone you can hang out with when you’re in New York.” The man smiled at me. “Miss Ross, hello. My name is Mark. Your parents told me you’re in the military. That’s very impressive. I was wondering if I could get your number? Maybe we could get to know each other.” It all clicked. This wasn’t a family dinner. It was a blind date. An ambush. After six years of silence, their first act was to try and marry me off. I turned my gaze to Mark. He was average-looking, thin, and dressed in clothes that probably cost less than the necklace I was wearing. “Mark,” I began, my voice cool and clear. “Since this is a setup, let’s just get straight to the point.” “Do you own property in Manhattan? A condo? A co-op? What kind of car do you drive? Did you buy it outright? What are your savings looking like? Six figures? Seven? Any debt? And since you’re a professional player, how many championships have you actually won?” Mark stared at me, dumbfounded, stammering without producing a single coherent word. The rest of the table was equally stunned. “Uh… I just remembered I have something I need to do at the club,” he mumbled, grabbing his coat. “I… I have to go.” After he fled, Seraphina shot me a disapproving look. “Scarlett, how could you be so blunt? Who goes on a date like that? You scared him off! Now who’s going to want to date you?” “Isn’t that the point of a date?” I asked calmly. “To determine compatibility?” I let my gaze drift over each of them, finally landing on my mother. “Mom, do you have any idea what my annual income is?” She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. “I’m a Major General in the United States Army. While the pay isn’t extravagant, my investment portfolio is easily a hundred times larger than his. The Jeep I drove home? That was half a million dollars. I own five properties in New York and three in Miami.” I gestured to my neck. “And this necklace? Seraphina, you probably couldn’t afford this with your entire yearly salary.” I stood up, leaving them to stew in their shock and my sister’s pale, tight-lipped fury.

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My husband’s childhood friend, the one who grew up next door, could never shake her habit of being hopelessly forgetful. This time, she’d left her phone in my husband Jim’s office. When I brought it to her, the screen was still lit up with a search history she hadn’t closed: “How to get a strong-willed wife to initiate a divorce after getting pregnant?” “Is using a married man’s card for a linked family account considered using their joint marital assets?” I glanced at it, a grim sort of admiration blooming in my chest. The young women these days certainly had the schemes to match their ambitions. I locked the screen and took the phone downstairs to her. She seemed surprised that I was the one who brought it. “Oh, Rhiannon, I’m so sorry to bother you again! I heard you were rushing to a meeting. Let me call a car for you.” I gave a casual nod. As she tapped away at her phone, I caught a flash of the payment screen. It was the icon for a linked card, and the familiar profile picture on it was none other than my husband, Jim. 1 A moment later, a voice memo from Jim played from her phone. “Sadie, look at you, getting the hang of the family card.” Sadie shot an embarrassed look my way, her voice sickly sweet. “I’m just getting a ride for Rhiannon.” “I’ll pay you back as soon as I get a job.” I didn’t listen to the rest. The car had already pulled up. I opened the door, slid inside, and left without a word of goodbye. That evening, Jim, who was supposed to be on the night shift, was sprawled on the living room sofa. The second he saw me, the complaints started. “Why did you have to make Sadie call a car for you?” A knot of frustration tightened in my chest, and my brows drew together. “Is there a problem?” The words were barely out before the day’s grievances came rushing back. Jim was always complaining about the hospital cafeteria food, so I had taken my lunch break to bring him a home-cooked meal. I was in a hurry to get back to my own office for a meeting when he called, just as I was getting into my car. “Sadie is in a panic. Can you run her phone down to her? She’ll be there in a minute.” He hung up before I could even answer. Thinking of it now, I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “Is my time somehow less valuable than hers?” Seeing the storm on my face, Jim quickly changed his tune. “Alright, let’s drop it. I just feel for her. She just graduated, no job, no savings. I worry she’s having a hard time.” “To you, thirty dollars is nothing, but that could be her food budget for the entire day.” A sharp smile touched my lips, my words laced with sarcasm. “Isn’t it your money? Why the heartache?” Sadie was the girl who grew up next door to Jim. After her parents passed away, Jim had even covered her last two years of college tuition. Sadie always used to say, “Jim, I’m not the kind of girl who just lives off a man. I’ll earn my own money and pay you back.” Three months ago, she graduated and moved back to the city, sticking to Jim like glue ever since. Worried I’d get the wrong idea, Jim had rushed me down to city hall to make our marriage official. We were just waiting for his annual leave next month to have the wedding ceremony. So, even though Sadie had zero sense of boundaries, I usually couldn’t be bothered to argue about her. But this time, Jim didn’t try to placate me as I’d expected. Instead, his gaze turned cold. “What’s with the passive-aggressive tone? It’s a linked card with a five-hundred-dollar limit. What’s the big deal?” “And what’s the big deal about me letting her call a ride for me?” I, who normally hated fighting, refused to back down an inch. He had once set up a card for me, too. The limit was three hundred. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a cup of coffee with it, terrified of adding to his financial burden. Looking at his self-righteous expression now, a chill seeped into my bones, erupting into an uncontrollable fire. I held up my phone, Sadie’s search history glowing on the screen. “Don’t tell me you’re going to say there’s nothing going on between you two.” The color drained from Jim’s face. He lunged for the phone. I twisted away, but he grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong, his voice sharp and urgent. “You don’t know anything! Don’t you dare spread rumors. How is she supposed to face people if this gets out?” I froze. Not from the pain. But from the foreign panic in his eyes, a panic born purely for someone else. He stared at me, finally realizing he’d gone too far. His tone softened. “I’m sorry, Ria. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. But we’re married. Why are you getting worked up over my childhood friend? I promise you, I would never, ever do anything to betray you.” “I’ll keep my distance from her from now on. You can just pretend she doesn’t exist.” Just then, Jim’s phone rang. He answered it, and as he listened, his expression shifted dramatically. “You posted this online?” “I just wanted to get some advice from people! I didn’t use any personal information!” He slammed the phone down onto the plush rug. “How old are you? Are you still playing games on the internet?” “Didn’t you see her Google account name in the screenshot?” I pulled out my own phone and saw it. The post, somehow, had started trending. Someone had used the information in her account to dig up her real identity. “Secret Mistress Exposed: Top Surgeon at Seabrook General in Suspected Affair!” Jim’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice trembling. “Are you insane, Rhiannon? Do you want to destroy all of us with public opinion?” I clenched my fists, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s not public opinion that’s destroying you. It’s your complete lack of boundaries.” But he wasn’t listening. He snatched his phone and car keys and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. 2 Jim and Sadie weren’t crucified by the internet. To protect its star surgeon, the hospital spent a fortune suppressing the story. Overnight, all the negative comments vanished. Jim also disappeared for two straight days. On the third night, he finally came home, reeking of alcohol. He didn’t come into the bedroom, instead making a call from the living room, his voice carrying clearly through the door. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help you, and instead, I ended up hurting you.” On the other end, Sadie’s voice was thick with tears. “It’s nothing. I can take care of myself. Not every woman needs a man. I’m fine on my own.” Jim sighed. “It’s a good thing you’re so good-natured. Otherwise, who knows how this mess would have ended.” “This whole thing has just shown me that overly aggressive people really aren’t likable.” Not likable. But wasn’t he the one who once told me he loved my cool-headed rationality? Jim asked Sadie for an address. “You’re studying for your medical boards, right? I have some materials here, I’ll bring them over to you in a bit.” “Also, I spoke with the hospital administration. You can start as an intern with us. You’ll be able to work and study under me.” Her tone on the other end finally shifted from sorrow to a soft, happy laugh. They talked for a while longer before Jim finally remembered to come into the bedroom. The door swung open. He saw me and looked a little awkward. “I got Sadie an internship spot. She can follow me at the hospital and learn. Consider it our apology for what happened the other day.” I let out a derisive laugh but said nothing. I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to be apologizing for. I had planned to wait a few days and find a time for the three of us to talk things out face-to-face. But unexpectedly, I, who was usually perfectly healthy, fell ill. It was a nasty bug that lingered for two weeks. When I went back to the hospital for a follow-up, I passed by Jim’s office. A glance through the glass window showed Sadie sitting inside. Her lab coat was unbuttoned, revealing a miniskirt so short it barely grazed her thighs, a flash of pale legs in the sterile environment. When she saw me, she didn’t even bother to stand up. “Rhiannon, you were behind that whole thing online, weren’t you?” “I never would have guessed. You look like such a powerful, put-together career woman, but deep down, you’re just petty and insecure.” “Do you really think a stunt like that is enough to drive me away from him?” I laughed softly. “Miss Sadie, you give yourself far too much credit. My time is valuable. I don’t have the energy to play your childish games.” She eyed me with a smirk. “But your husband loves these childish games.” “See this skirt? Your husband said only a girl my age could pull it off. Once you’re old and washed up, you lose that kind of vitality.” This was the first time she had looked me directly in the eye, making no effort to hide her hostility. Before, whenever Jim was around, she always acted timid and withdrawn, claiming my success intimidated her and she was too scared to be around me. Now, the fox was finally letting its tail show. 3 Even though I had already seen through Jim’s pathetic, have-it-all nature, Sadie’s words—”Your husband loves these childish games”—still sent a cold stone dropping into my stomach. Weren’t we all “little girls” once? I took a deep breath, quickly steadying myself. Just as I was about to fire back, the office door swung open. A female doctor walked in and sat down across from Sadie, her tone chummy. “It’s rare to see you alone. Where’s your man?” “I heard he practically slammed the table in the chief’s office to get you this internship. That childhood bond is really something else, huh?” “You have to put in a good word for me with Dr. Evans. Maybe I can get a chance to scrub in on one of his surgeries.” Only then did she notice me standing by the door. She scowled impatiently. “It’s not visiting hours yet. Hospital rules say patients wait outside. What are you doing just standing there?” “Some patients have no self-awareness. You’re too nice, Sadie. If it were me, I would have kicked her out ages ago.” Although Jim and I had been together for eight years, I had always believed in giving each other space and rarely visited him at the hospital. So, while many people had heard he was married, few had actually met me. But I recognized this doctor. Her name was Brenda, and she had a reputation for being the hospital shrew—terrible skills, terrible temper, and a classic bully. It was surprising that Sadie, after only a few days, had already fallen in with her. Before I could say anything, Brenda had already opened the door and ushered me out, closing it gently behind her. Through the thin door, I heard Sadie’s cheerful voice pick up the conversation. “Don’t be ridiculous. Whether I get to stay or not depends on my own abilities. You can’t get a foothold at Seabrook General with connections alone.” Brenda’s tone was knowing. “Other connections might not work, but your guy is the top scalpel here. Who would dare cross him? You’re too naive, burying your head in books all day! I heard you’re already carrying his child. Instead of studying, you should just force his hand!” She practically shouted the last few words, as if afraid Sadie wouldn’t hear. “No, the father isn’t him…” Sadie demurred. Brenda cackled. “Oh, I heard all about it! Dr. Evans’s car was in the parking garage the other day… making quite a commotion!” “He only sees me as a sister!” Sadie explained weakly. “No blood relation, what kind of sister is that? A ‘special’ sister? Didn’t he give you his downtown studio apartment to live in? Don’t think I don’t know.” No wonder Jim, who never cared about such things, had suddenly taken his car for a full detailing a few days ago. He’d been using it as a love nest. And he’d lied to me, saying he’d rented the apartment to a young couple, recent graduates. “They just moved to the city, don’t have much money. I told them they could delay their first rent payment.” I’d been surprised at the time. Jim was usually so frugal. I never thought he could be so understanding. It turned out Sadie was the one living there. But that was the apartment I bought with the bonus from my first big project! And I was still the one paying the mortgage! After a bit more chatter, Brenda came out, probably to see if Jim was back. She was annoyed to see me still standing there. “Why are you eavesdropping on our private conversation?” I couldn’t help but sneer. “Calling her ‘Dr. Sadie’ already? She doesn’t even have her medical license yet. And besides, you should probably lower your voices. It’s not like you were discussing anything honorable, were you?” Sadie emerged, her face a mask of wounded innocence. “Rhiannon, you didn’t take that seriously, did you? We were just joking around. Jim and I are close, but we’ve never crossed any lines. I know you’re very accomplished, but I’m not so bad myself. I will pass my medical boards, and I hope in the future you won’t speak to me with such a dismissive tone.” I was about to marvel at her Oscar-worthy performance and her bafflingly complex personality—flipping between manic, proud, vicious, and victimized in the blink of an eye. You’d think she was suffering from some strange ailment. But in the next moment, a familiar, angry voice sounded from behind me. “Rhiannon, what are you doing now?” 4 “She doesn’t have an office, so I told her she could rest and study in here. Is that something to be angry about?” “Come on, she’s just a kid. You don’t have to be like this.” My mouth moved, but no sound came out. It didn’t matter. When it came to Sadie, Jim always had the same excuses. She would text and call him in the middle of the night, claiming she needed help with a question. It was obvious what she was really after. One night, we were in the middle of being intimate when her call came through. Jim rolled off me, got out of bed, and went to look up some information for her. Humiliated and furious, I yelled at him. “She’s not even your real sister! Even if she were, this is completely out of line!” Jim just soothed me with his usual line. “She’s just a kid. What’s there to be angry about? We can do this anytime. She’s studying for her boards. That’s a big deal.” Seeing me silent for a long moment, Jim must have thought his authoritative tone had worked. He softened his voice. “Okay, don’t be upset. When I get my vacation time, I’ll take you on that cruise you’ve always wanted to go on.” Sadie chimed in with a saccharine-sour voice, “Jim, you’re so busy and you still have to take care of your wife. You’re such a good man. Rhiannon, you’re amazing, but it’s not easy to find a man who truly loves you. You should learn to cherish him.” I used to think that if my marriage ever fell apart, I’d have a clichéd breakdown, sobbing and demanding to know how Jim could forget his promises. But at this moment, my voice was unnervingly calm. “I’m not upset. And you don’t have to wait for your vacation. I can go on a cruise by myself.” “Let’s get a divorce, Jim.”

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At the college reunion, my mouth ran away from me, and I accidentally let it slip that I was simultaneously dating three premium-grade boyfriends online. One runs a top-tier law firm, one is a researcher at the National Science Institute, and the last is a tech mogul from the Forbes list. My frenemy, Jessica, stopped mid-chew on a pork rib, her eyes narrowing with mock sympathy. “I really feel for your future husband,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Passing over so many good girls just to marry someone else’s second-hand rose.” I took a slow sip of my juice. “Actually, I’m in a bit of a bind,” I replied casually. “All three are great catches, and I can’t decide who to cut loose. How about this, Jess? You see one you like, I’ll let you have him.” The words had barely left my lips when Jessica’s jaw dropped, her chopsticks clattering to the floor forgotten. “Are you… are you serious?” 1. As Jessica stared at me in stunned silence, a series of glowing text boxes suddenly appeared in the air, visible only to her. [WTF, has the side character lost her mind? She’s actually giving away three titans to our precious main character!] [Jessie, don’t hesitate! This is a jackpot from the heavens! Snag any one of them and you’re set for life. The side character has no idea what she’s giving up!] Seeing the comments, Jessica’s eyes lit up. The temptation was obvious, but she was still wary. “Let’s get this straight,” she said, her gaze fixed on me. “Once you give them to me, they’re mine. You can’t take them back!” “Of course not.” I nodded, my smile as innocent as a lamb’s. “You’re my best friend. We share our blessings, right?” “Don’t worry,” I added reassuringly. “Aside from the tech mogul, who I’ve met once, the other two have never even seen my face. As long as you stick to the persona, you’ll be fine. The only question is, which one do you want?” [The ultimate choice! The legal god, the genius scientist, or the billionaire CEO? How can anyone choose?!] [You have to get them all! With your main character halo, you can conquer all three!] Jessica licked her lips, her eyes gleaming with greed. “Forget picking and choosing. Your three boyfriends… I want them all. Besides, Sophie, you’re a great catch. You won’t have any trouble finding other men.” Her answer didn’t surprise me in the slightest. I simply smiled and held out my hand. “Sure thing. The transfer fee is a million dollars each. Cash or card?” Jessica recoiled, her face turning a blotchy red and white. “I thought you said we were best friends! Why are you charging me?” “Even real sisters have to keep their accounts straight,” I said, pouting theatrically. “It takes time and energy to screen candidates and cultivate relationships, you know.” I feigned a hurt expression. “If you think I’m asking for too much, we can just forget the whole thing. I wouldn’t want money to ruin our friendship.” “No, wait! But this is a million dollars! Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” Before Jessica could argue further, the pop-up comments started chiming in again. [Jessie, don’t be a fool! It’s only a million! Just sell your parents’ house, you’ll have it! If you miss out on these billionaire boyfriends, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!] [The side character really is just a pretty face and nothing else. She thinks she’s making a killing, but any one of these guys could drop more than that between their couch cushions. She’ll be the one crying later!] [Can’t wait to see our girl conquer all three titans and come back to rub it in this idiot’s face!] A giddy smile spread across Jessica’s face as she read the comments, clearly picturing that triumphant scene. “Fine! A million it is!” she declared. “I’ll go home and get the money. You better hold them for me. Don’t you dare transfer them to anyone else!” She paused, her expression turning stern. “And you better behave yourself. No last-minute flings with my future husbands. I don’t want your sloppy seconds!” I burst out laughing and gave her a solemn nod. “Don’t worry. They’re all virgins. Squeaky clean.” 2. Tempted by the dual allure of men and money, it only took Jessica three days to scrape together the million dollars. Once the payment was confirmed, I was more than happy to show her the social media profiles of all three boyfriends and asked which one she wanted to unlock first. After careful consideration, Jessica chose the young scientist, Dr. Alistair Finch. “This one,” she said. “He looks the kindest, like a sweet, gentle boy-next-door type. Should be easy to handle.” I smiled without comment and launched into my briefing. “Alistair Finch, 27. Holds doctorates from four of the world’s top universities. Currently a lead researcher at the National Science Institute, with high-level government clearance and a national stipend.” “We met on a forum for rare plant enthusiasts. Horticulture is his only hobby outside of research, and it’s your primary angle of attack. I can barely keep a cactus alive, so I had to put in a lot of work. I’ll send you my entire research file. You need to memorize it. Key sections must be recited verbatim.” Under Jessica’s astonished gaze, I forwarded her a 200-gigabyte file of botanical knowledge. “He’s meticulous in his academic life and values efficiency above all else. In his personal life, he’s snarky, introverted, and has a severe allergy to stupidity, though he’s not aware of it. My persona with him was the ‘proud but cute girl who never backs down.’ Playing dumb can be charming, but you have to know where the line is. Oh, and he’s deathly allergic to cats.” After handing over all of Alistair’s information and contact details, I gave her a detailed rundown of our daily interactions, our pet names, and important inside jokes. Then, I offered her a warm, encouraging smile. “That’s about it. Good luck. You’ve got this.” [Gotta admit, the side character really puts in the work when it comes to seducing men. 200 gigs of data? It would take over a month just to read through it all once!] [She only has to try that hard because she’s just a side character. She doesn’t have the main character’s halo, so she has to rely on rote memorization to score points. Our Jessie is the chosen one! Even if she knows nothing, the male lead will fall head over heels for her!] Jessica’s face, which had been scrunched in misery as she looked at the files, immediately brightened when she saw the comments. Right in front of me, she lifted her phone and deleted the 200-gigabyte file. “Sophie, your clumsy methods might work for you, but they’re not for me,” she declared smugly. “Just you wait. A woman with my kind of charm could talk about SpongeBob SquarePants and have Alistair completely captivated.” I wasn’t the least bit angry. In fact, my smile grew wider. “Well, I wish you the best of luck. Just a friendly reminder: the transfer is complete. No refunds or exchanges, regardless of the outcome.” Jessica scoffed. “Of course not. I’m more worried you’ll be the one trying to back out!” With that, she logged into my burner account and threw herself into chatting with Alistair. A week later, at another get-together, the first thing Jessica did was show off the necklace around her neck. “Isn’t it beautiful? It’s the latest from Van Cleef & Arpels’ botanical collection. A diamond necklace worth over eight hundred thousand dollars! I saw it in an article, mentioned it to Alistair, and he bought it for me just like that!” As she boasted, she shot a look at me, where I sat engrossed in a book, and deliberately raised her voice. “By the way, Sophie, you were with Alistair for so long. What did he ever buy for you?” 3. I thought about it for a moment. “Hmm… a bookmark he made from a pressed leaf, a botany book he authored that retails for $28.80, and a rose-shaped brooch he carved himself.” “That’s it?” Jessica’s grin nearly split her face. “That doesn’t even cover a fraction of what my diamond costs. You’re such a failure. All that time studying those useless books for nothing!” I just smiled and said nothing. Unsatisfied with my calm reaction, Jessica leaned in closer to continue her victory lap. “You memorized all that trivia, and he was still so snarky and condescending to you. But me? I’ve never once engaged with his boring science talk. I steer the conversation to celebrity gossip, and he eats it up! He even called me lively and cute!” “Who says science guys aren’t romantic? The difference between being loved and not loved is just that obvious!” She smirked, her eyes filled with pity. “Oops, there I go again, speaking my mind. Sophie, I hope what I said doesn’t make you too sad.” I wasn’t sad at all. Alistair might have been the fish I’d had on the line the longest, but he was also the one I cared about the least. Our story began on that plant forum. I had simply posted a picture of the dying spider plant on my balcony, asking for advice. Then, Alistair, using a default username of random numbers, appeared and, just from the angle of the light, deduced the exact latitude and longitude of my dorm and provided a fool-proof guide to reviving it. I asked for his contact info to buy him a coffee as thanks, but he was initially cold. “Sorry, my time is valuable. I can’t waste it on meaningless things.” I scoffed at his message. Then, I casually snapped another photo of the plant on the floor, making sure the reflection in the glass behind it captured the subtle, alluring silhouette of my figure. I hit send. “But Professor, what if I have more plant questions for you in the future?~” Three seconds later, he accepted my friend request. His profile was a ghost town. No posts, a default avatar—it was utterly devoid of life. But a single “like” he’d left on a short video three months prior gave him away. In the video’s comment section, his simple remark, “Not bad,” had garnered tens of thousands of likes and a flood of frantic replies. “OMG, it’s the god Alistair himself!” “First-row seat to greatness!” “If Dr. Finch would look at my project, I’d eat instant noodles without the flavor packet for ten years!” A quick search was all it took. Alistair’s identity, along with a string of brilliant achievements, lit up my screen like a supernova. From that day on, I channeled my high-school-senior energy into devouring a dozen botany textbooks, cramming my brain with obscure facts. Then, during our chats, I would “casually” drop my knowledge of niche topics. That, and a steady stream of artfully suggestive, no-face photos. Six months later, this snarky, introverted genius finally dropped his cold facade and started making his move. I found it amusing and played innocent. “But what if I’m really ugly? The kind of ugly that makes you want to puke?” I expected some sleazy line like, “It’s all the same with the lights off.” Instead, he typed back instantly. “I’ve cultivated many flowers in my life, but you’re the first rose I’ve ever tried to grow without soil. No matter what you look like, you are precious, unique, and irreplaceable to me.”

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On my seventh birthday, I finally ate myself to 120 pounds. As I packed my backpack, ready to run away, I was told I was the true daughter of the Prady family. Jasmine, who had been taken away a short while ago, returned to St. Jude’s Orphanage and handed me a carved wooden pendant. “Lisa, this is yours. You’re the Prady’s lost biological daughter.” I quickly shook my head. I’d traded it with Jasmine for a month’s worth of braised pork. I’d eaten the pork, how could I take the pendant back? Not far off, a man roared in fury: “How could she be my daughter? My daughter couldn’t possibly look like a pig!” I turned around at the sound, meeting my father, Jonathan Prady’s, eyes for the first time – eyes filled with stark disgust. The Director replied helplessly, “Mr. Prady, according to the DNA test results, Lisa is indeed your daughter.” The man frowned, walking closer, asking coldly, “Where is that woman? She just dumped you here and forgot about you?” Was he talking about Mom? Mom… she’s still in the hospital, waiting for my bone marrow to save her life. … Mom and I had made a pinky promise. I couldn’t tell anyone she was sick. So I just stood there, silently, not answering him. Dad’s face was cold. He looked me up and down. “She really is heartless. She abandoned me because I was poor back then, and now she’s abandoned you because you’re fat. We’re both just roadblocks to her.” No. Mom didn’t abandon me. I argued back in my head. She’s just… very sick. The driver, a kind man, bowed slightly. “Mr. Prady, Ms. Jasmine’s adoption reception is about to begin.” Jasmine gave me a deep, uncertain look, then got into the car with Dad. The car started, threatening to drive away. The Director, panicking, pushed me. “Are you crazy? Why aren’t you following them? Since you’ve found your father, the orphanage is no longer obligated to keep you!” Because I was so heavy and clumsy, I stumbled and fell. My elbow scraped the ground, and gravel dug into my skin, sending a jolt of sharp pain through me. The Director, forcing a smile, stopped the car. “Mr. Prady, since you are Lisa’s biological father, you can’t abandon her again, not morally, not legally.” Dad coldly rolled down the window, his voice strained with impatience. “Find whoever abandoned her here. It has nothing to do with me.” A chill ran up my calf. I looked down. My pant leg had ripped when I fell. A thick, exposed calf. I self-consciously tugged at it. I knew I was clumsy and fat, that anyone would be disgusted. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to save Mom quickly. Maybe, if I went back to the Prady family, I could find Mom’s hospital faster. I quickly got up, staring at the car with desperate eyes. The Director held out a document into the car. “We can’t find Lisa’s mother, but if you intentionally leave her here, it’s illegal. We can file a lawsuit…” “Then go ahead and sue.” “Drive.” The driver didn’t move. He hesitated, then spoke, as if prompting. “Mr. Prady… maybe we should take Ms. Lisa back. This is a critical time. A scandal about abandoning a child would affect the company’s stock.” The atmosphere turned awkward. After a moment, Dad impatiently glared at me. “Are you going to get in or not?” I was a little surprised. I painstakingly climbed into the luxury car and found a corner to sit in. The vehicle slowly drove away. I didn’t lean out the window and wave goodbye to the Director like Jasmine had. The seatbelt was simply too short, digging into me, making it impossible to move. Dad saw this and let out a cold laugh. “You’re just like her. Just as cold, heartless, and greedy for wealth.” I heard the disgust in his voice. But I didn’t understand what he meant. I just buried my head, trying to adjust the seatbelt. A half-melted chocolate bar tumbled out of my pocket and landed by Jasmine’s feet. She was wearing a pair of delicate princess shoes, adorned with pearls, the surface sparkling. I could never wear such beautiful shoes. I was the fattest kid in the orphanage. Any donated clothes or shoes, even the oversized ones everyone else passed on, were still too tight and small for me. I reluctantly tore my gaze away, stretching my arm to reach for the chocolate. Dad’s dark leather shoe suddenly stepped on the chocolate. “Are you a starving ghost reincarnated?” My hand recoiled. A sudden, sour bubble welled up in my heart, then burst. At the orphanage, they called me “piggy,” “chowhound,” “starving ghost.” I was indifferent to words a hundred times worse. But when Dad said it, I felt an inexplicable sadness. The speeding car finally stopped in front of a grand hotel. Jasmine followed Dad out of the car. His back, in its sharp suit, was stiff. His voice was cold and hard. “Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her run around and embarrass me.” “Understood.” Suddenly, it was just me and the driver in the car. He parked the car, glancing at me occasionally in the rearview mirror. After a long silence, he tried to break the awkwardness with small talk. “Ms. Lisa, the Director said you can eat three children’s portions by yourself. Is that true?” My face flushed, and I twisted my torn pant leg, mumbling, “Uh-huh.” He stared, wide-eyed, but didn’t forget to comfort me. “It’s good to eat. Being able to eat is a blessing.” He seemed to be talking to me, but also to himself. “Madam… that is, your mother, when she left the Prady family, Mr. Prady didn’t even know she was pregnant. All these years, Mr. Prady has been…” A sudden phone call interrupted him. “Ms. Jasmine’s ballet shoes? Yes, Mr. Prady, I’ll bring them right up.” He hung up and told me to unbuckle and rest in the car. Before I could react, I saw him hastily get out and lock the car door. I tugged at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Time ticked by. Hunger slowly began to gnaw at me. I fumbled in my pocket. The only chocolate bar had been flattened by Dad’s shoe. I hesitated, but didn’t pick it up. After a long wait, I couldn’t bear the hunger anymore. Auntie Doctor said I had to reach a certain weight to donate bone marrow. To save Mom, I couldn’t lose a single pound. I started searching the car, hoping to find something to eat. In the glove compartment, I felt something hard. I pulled it out and saw it was a spare car key. I tried each button. The car suddenly beeped twice, making my heart pound. I pressed it again, and the unlock light on the door handle lit up. I took a deep breath and pushed the car door open. I wanted to go straight to the hospital to find Mom, but hunger made my vision blur. No, I needed to eat something first. I followed a staircase up, accidentally stumbling into a banquet hall. It was brightly lit, with elegant music floating through the air, mingled with the sweet scent of desserts. When no one was looking, I grabbed a handful of macarons and ducked under a tablecloth. Eating as I peered out. Jasmine, dressed in a pristine white ballet outfit, stood obediently beside Dad. Dad smiled as he introduced her to the guests. “This is my daughter, Jasmine.” “Jasmine, say hello to your aunts and uncles.” Jasmine’s voice was soft and sweet. “Hello, aunts and uncles.” “Hello, Jasmine. Your dance was wonderful.” “This child must have suffered a lot outside, Jonathan. You really should spoil her.” Jasmine smiled and nodded, every movement refined and graceful. I looked down at my torn pant leg and my stout figure. She certainly looked more like a Prady heiress than I did. The macarons were quickly gone. I reached out a hand to grab more, but someone grabbed my arm and yanked hard. I tumbled out from under the tablecloth, exposed to everyone’s gaze. A waiter, carrying a tray, looked me up and down. “Where did you sneak in from? Stealing food here?” “Quiet down, just get her out of here. What if she disturbs the guests?” another waiter said, quickly pulling me up by the arm. Unfortunately, everyone’s attention had already turned my way. Dad’s face immediately darkened. “What are you doing here?” The moment the words left his mouth, he seemed desperately worried I’d call him “Dad” in such a setting. He quickly looked up and snapped at the waiters. “What are you doing? Get her out of here!” The several men who had just been talking to Dad gathered around. “Jonathan, who is this?” My mouth was still stained with macaron crumbs, and my thick calves were exposed. In that moment, I felt like the monkeys Mom used to take me to see at the zoo. No, a gorilla. Monkeys aren’t this fat. It was Jasmine who reached out and took my hand, diffusing the tension. “She’s my good friend from the orphanage. Dad was worried I’d be lonely, so he adopted her to keep me company.” “Dad wanted to surprise me, so he hasn’t had time to get her changed yet.” The atmosphere softened slightly. Someone in the crowd whispered, “So Mr. Prady has another daughter? But there’s such a difference between the real and adopted heiress. From the same orphanage, one is graceful, the other is mistaken for a thief.” “Must be starving, right? It’s rare to see a child that hungry these days.” I had heard voices like that many times. Since being sent to the orphanage, I had done nothing but eat. Anything edible, I’d throw a tantrum, cry, and make a fuss to get extra portions. Braised pork, the fatty parts other children hated, I devoured it all. My body ballooned like a balloon. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to eat more, get fatter. Families coming to adopt, seeing me at the end of the line, would always ask the Director in surprise if I was really abandoned or if I had a weight-related illness. As if children nobody wanted were supposed to be scrawny. Eventually, I stopped lining up. I didn’t want to be adopted anyway. I told myself, You’re doing great, Lisa. You can save Mom. But Mom, why did my chest ache when I saw Dad’s disgusted gaze? The driver bowed repeatedly, apologizing, as he led me away. I spoke weakly. “Uncle, I want to go to the hospital.” He frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” I shook my head. He said he had to ask Dad first. Dad… he didn’t even know Mom was sick. I don’t know how much more time passed. When they returned, Dad was already tipsy, his eyes bloodshot. For some reason, neither the driver nor Jasmine got into the car. Dad just stood there, silently, staring at me for a long time. I felt uneasy, nervously picking at my fingers. After a long moment, he spoke coldly. “Lisa. Is that the name she gave you?” “Uh-huh. Mom said, ‘Lisa’ means hope…” Dad scoffed, cutting me off. “You shouldn’t have been born into this world. She went through so much to leave me, only to end up with you. She must have hated you.” “That’s not true!” I stomped my foot, arguing, but my nose was starting to sting. “Mom loves me most in the whole world!” Lisa, with her mom by her side, was the happiest child in the world. She would sing soft songs to lull me to sleep. She would kiss my scraped knees better. She would cup my tiny hands in hers, wishing I’d grow up slowly. Dad’s gaze was filled with intense hatred, yet his eyelashes glistened with unshed tears. “Is that so? Then why didn’t she want you? Why did she dump you at an orphanage, letting you get into this state?” “That’s because! Because…” Mom said she would pick me up on my seventh birthday. She didn’t come. But I knew she was sick. I didn’t blame her. Dad’s voice suddenly trembled, though he tried to control it. “Because she’s a completely selfish woman! I gave her everything she wanted, but she vanished with all my remaining money. The rent was due, my company folded, I was like a stray dog with nowhere to go!” “At 15, a woman claiming to be my mom said she wanted to start a new life with me. I believed her. I gave her all my father’s pension money, and then I was homeless.” “At 25, the last thing your mother said to me was, ‘Jonathan Prady, even your own mother didn’t want you. What makes you think I would?’” “She said she wouldn’t do this to me… She explicitly said she wouldn’t!” “And now, she doesn’t want our child either.” Seeing Dad’s pain, my chest ached with a dull throb. I instinctively reached out, wrapping my arms around his neck. He froze, then quickly reverted to his cold, disgusted self and pushed me away. “Do you think that will make me want you?” “You’d trade a valuable pendant for a plate of braised pork. You eagerly left the orphanage when you found out you were the true heiress. Lisa, you’re just as selfish as your mother. I’ve already adopted Jasmine as my daughter. In a while, I’ll have someone send you to another orphanage.” As if finally getting some relief, he pushed open the car door and coldly ordered the driver, “Take them back.” I stiffly sat back in my seat, staring blankly at the tip of my shoe. These shoes were so tight. They were so tight, tears welled up in my eyes. My nose suddenly felt warm. I expertly tilted my head back. The driver gasped. “Mr. Prady! Ms. Lisa is bleeding from her nose!” Jasmine quickly climbed into the car, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe my nose. From the corner of my eye, Dad didn’t look back. “If she’s sick, take her to the hospital. I’m not a doctor.” The driver quickly started the car, speeding to the hospital. In the emergency room, after a thorough check-up, the doctor sighed. “Little one, you’re too heavy.” He mistook the driver for my father. “How could you let her get so overweight? The child doesn’t know better, but don’t the parents either?” “Your weight is severely over the limit. Nosebleeds will be frequent. You absolutely must strictly control your food intake and lose weight scientifically! For today, we’ll keep you for observation.” The driver nodded, taking notes, then went outside to report to Dad. Jasmine insisted on staying with me. The driver had no choice but to wait outside the door. We squeezed onto the small hospital bed, just like at the orphanage, where she used to say I was so soft and comfortable to hug when she slept. After a very long silence, she spoke softly, “Are you mad at me?” I knew she was talking about taking my place in the Prady family. I shook my head. “I wanted to trade the pendant with you. So it’s yours.” Whatever else she gained from it was Jasmine’s own effort. In the entire orphanage, only Jasmine could dance. She could see a dance move in a picture book and perform it flawlessly. That’s how she got the chance to dance at the charity gala. That’s how Dad recognized the pendant around her neck as Mom’s cherished possession. So, with her dream of becoming a dancer, she embraced the misunderstanding and went back to the Prady family. She never expected the lie to unravel in just half a year. In the dark hospital room, Jasmine’s bright eyes blinked. “Lisa, I’m sorry.” She got up and rummaged in her pocket, pulling out a chocolate bar. “I remember you telling me that your mom would pick you up on your birthday. She didn’t come, and I took your dad away. This is from the gala. You can make a wish for your mom and dad to both come back to you.” I looked into her eyes. She nodded firmly. So, I clasped my hands together and made a wish to the twinkling stars and the chocolate bar. I wished. That Mom’s illness would get better quickly.

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My mother brought me into the Hayes family when she married Mr. Hayes. That’s when I first laid eyes on my stepbrother, Jackson Hayes, and fell completely, hopelessly in love. To be his wife, I clung to him relentlessly, alienating friends and family alike. Eventually, I got what I wanted. But after we married, Jackson remained as distant as ever. Even in our most intimate moments, there was no warmth, just a cold, empty physical release. One night, at a dimly lit bar, I overheard his friends asking him, “Why did you give up on Leslie Olson, the elegant heiress, to marry Astrid Sheen, your willful, naive stepsister?” Jackson had simply chuckled, a weary, almost resigned sound. “Just responsibility,” he’d said. “She wouldn’t survive without me.” He didn’t love me. He was merely paying for our foolish drunken mistake. I stumbled out of the bar, my mind a blur, only to be struck by a speeding sports car and flung back to my seventeenth year. Given a second chance, I vowed to mend the regrets of my past, with one crucial exception: I would no longer chase Jackson Hayes. Yet, that very night, Jackson cornered me against the door, his eyes glistening with unshed tears for the first time in either of our lives. “Astrid Sheen,” he pleaded, his voice raw, “Look at me. I love you too…” 1 The exact moment I realized I’d been reborn, I was standing by the dining table, holding a steaming Dutch oven. “Astrid? Why are you just standing there? Put that pot down, it’s scalding hot!” My mom’s anxious voice snapped me back to the present. I quickly lowered the heavy pot, but my fingertips were already flushed scarlet. Everyone at the table was looking at me: Mom, my stepfather Mr. Hayes, and… Jackson. This was the day I’d insisted on cooking a special breakfast stew for Jackson, knowing he suffered from stomach issues. I’d nearly set the kitchen on fire, terrifying poor Mrs. Miller, our housekeeper, half to death. My gaze instinctively found Jackson. My stepbrother. His sharp eyebrows were subtly furrowed, his thin lips pressed into a tight line. His eyes, fixed on me, held a hint of impatience. I gave a self-deprecating smile. No matter how much I’d poured out my heart, it had always been a futile, one-sided affair. In my previous life, at this very moment, I’d declared with a heart full of hope, “Jackson, this is a special stew I made just for you! Please try it and tell me if it’s good. If you like it, I’ll make it for you every day!” All the boundless affection of a young girl had been slow-cooked into those tender, savory grains. But Jackson had simply frowned, his gaze flicking to my reddened hand. “The Hayes household has a housekeeper, Astrid. There’s no need for you to do such unnecessary things.” I’d frozen on the spot. Later, I’d cried myself to sleep, only to wipe away my tears the next morning and resume being Jackson’s devoted shadow. Thinking of that, I took the first bowl and served it to my stepfather, Mr. Hayes, who sat at the head of the table. I gave him a sweet, playful smile. “Dad, Mom said you’ve been working so hard lately, so I made this special stew to help you feel better.” Mr. Hayes’s face registered a flicker of surprise, then he burst into hearty laughter. “Ah, a daughter’s thoughtfulness is truly unmatched! I won’t enjoy this stew for free, young lady. Your allowance will go up by a thousand next month!” I thanked him with feigned delight, then served a bowl to Mom. “It’s my first time cooking, Mom,” I said, putting on a pout. “You simply have to praise me.” I placed the third bowl in front of myself, then sat down and began to eat. A subtle awkwardness settled over the table. Mrs. Miller, sensing the shift, started to clear her throat, moving to serve Jackson. “Mrs. Miller,” I said, my voice deliberately casual, “Jackson doesn’t care for stew. Don’t trouble yourself.” Jackson’s fork paused mid-air. He said nothing, a silent acceptance. Mrs. Miller halted her movements. I slowly ate my stew, a silent vow forming in my mind. Jackson Hayes, I, Astrid Sheen, will never again do a single thing for you, nor shed another tear. 2 Soon after dinner, there was a knock at my door. It was Mom. She was dressed in a pearl-white silk nightgown, her face bare of makeup yet still stunningly beautiful. A stark contrast to the previous life, where worry had etched fine lines across her face because of me. I couldn’t help but throw myself into her arms. In my last life, the person I’d wronged most wasn’t myself, but her. After she divorced my birth father, she’d married Mr. Hayes. Back then, I hadn’t understood her, believing she was superficial and greedy, betraying my own father. All the while, Mom endured my unreasonable tantrums, struggling to maintain her delicate position within their affluent circle. When my infatuation with Jackson—and the drunken night we’d spent together—came to light, the Hayes family was furious. Jackson faced their severe reprimand, and I was thrown out of the house. Mom begged me to go back and apologize, but I’d screamed at her, “I haven’t done anything wrong! I’m pursuing true love! I’m not like you, driven by greed and vanity, fickle and untrustworthy!” I’d stood there, chin defiantly raised, but her hand never struck. She left in tears, yet every month, she’d still transferred thousands of dollars to me, terrified I’d suffer out in the world. Later, when I finally married Jackson, Mom’s life within the Hayes household became even more difficult, and she grew increasingly melancholic. It was only then I learned my birth father owed a substantial amount of money. Mom, fearing the creditors would harm me, had rushed to marry Mr. Hayes, seeking their protection. And I had brutally broken her heart. Now, smelling her familiar scent, tears welled up uncontrollably. Mom gently patted my back, soothing me. “What’s wrong, my little princess? Are your fingers still hurting? Let Mom put some cream on them.” She took out a tube of burn cream and gently massaged it in. “My sweet girl is growing up. Thank you for calling him ‘Dad’ today. I promise you, darling, I’ll never let you suffer any injustice again.” With tears still clinging to my eyelashes, I grinned. “As long as you’re happy, Mom, I’d call him anything he wants!” “What nonsense are you talking, you silly girl! Look at your hand, so burned. Please, darling, never step foot in the kitchen again.” Her movements softened even more. “Jackson said this burn cream is the most effective. Your hand will definitely feel better by morning.” I paused. “Jackson, you mean?” “Yes. The house ran out of burn cream, and I was just about to go buy some when Jackson came back from outside and handed me a tube.” “He said he bought it by mistake, that he’d grabbed the wrong one. He’s such a private boy, always a bit awkward. But he’s truly a good brother, cold on the outside, warm on the inside…” The burn cream in front of me was the exact same brand Mom had given me in my previous life. Had Jackson bought it then too? I pursed my lips. What a performative gesture. Disgusting. 3 The next morning, when I came down for breakfast, Jackson had already finished. His empty bowl still sat on the dining table. The air held a faint, savory aroma. “Mrs. Miller, did you make that breakfast stew?” Mrs. Miller glanced at Jackson, then stammered a little. “No, Miss Astrid, no stew. I prepared some mini quiches. Would you like a few?” Strange. Too tired to ponder it, I replied, “I’ll have eight, please. And a generous drizzle of good olive oil, thank you, Mrs. Miller.” Before the quiches were ready, Mr. Hayes and Mom came downstairs. There was a pleasant atmosphere between them, and I felt genuinely happy for her. If their relationship was strong, Mom would have unwavering support within the Hayes household. After finishing my mini quiches and the usual boiled egg, I stood up, ready to head to school. “Mom, Dad, could I have the driver take me to and from school from now on?” Jackson’s hand, which had been reaching out towards my backpack, froze awkwardly above it, then slowly lowered. Mr. Hayes and Mom exchanged puzzled glances. “Astrid, you’ve been a little odd since yesterday. Weren’t you the one who always insisted Jackson drive you, even if it meant taking the long way?” I lowered my gaze. “I was thoughtless before. Jackson just took over the company; he’s incredibly busy. He really shouldn’t have to drive me.” Mr. Hayes nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. “Astrid’s grown up. Alright, then Old Man Robert will drive you from now on.” At the word “brother,” Jackson’s body gave a subtle tremor. In my past life, I had always refused to truly acknowledge Jackson as my brother, stubbornly calling him “Jackson” instead of “brother Jackson.” Even after we married, in moments of passion, I’d sometimes slip and call out “brother.” He would always tremble, then fiercely tell me to shut up. Sleepless last night, I’d come to a realization. I didn’t truly hate Jackson. Even if he hadn’t loved me, he had never mistreated me. What I hated more was the foolish moth-like devotion within myself… Jackson’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts. “Dad, Mom,” he said, using the casual address for his stepmother, “since Astrid doesn’t need a ride, I’ll head to the office now.” His expression was unreadable as he turned and walked away, his long legs carrying him swiftly. I let out a breath of relief. This life, we would simply be step-siblings. 4 Standing at the classroom door, I felt a wave of disorientation. It had been years since graduation; who could possibly remember their senior year seating arrangement? Thankfully, I still had my best friend, Chloe. Round-faced, with a messy bun and black-rimmed glasses, Chloe Thorne suddenly tackled me from behind. “Wifey! Were you waiting for me?” I turned and playfully pinched her cheek. “Of course I was.” I followed Chloe to our shared desk. Glancing at the day’s schedule on the whiteboard, I pulled out my math textbook. I asked, feigning casualness, “Where did we leave off in math yesterday?” Chloe stared at me, her face a mask of horror. “Whoever you are, get off my wifey! Astrid Sheen would never, EVER utter the word ‘math’ during morning homeroom, a sacred time for gossip!” I rolled my eyes, wanting to tease her. “Alright, I’ll tell you the truth: I’m reborn. In my last life, I just missed out on my dream university. This time, I swear I’m going to study hard and reclaim everything that should have been mine…” Chloe’s eyes widened. “Really? Then can you tell me next week’s lottery numbers?” I spread my hands. “Sadly, no. But I can tell you this year’s English Literature essay topic.” I scribbled a line on a piece of paper: “A single bloom does not make a spring.” Chloe giggled, tucking the paper into her English notebook. “My wifey’s never wrong! I’m going home tonight to memorize sample essays!” Watching Chloe’s radiant smile, my nose prickled. In my past life, she’d worked so hard, only to miss her dream university by a single point. The pressure of retaking the entrance exams had been too much; her personality had completely changed, and we’d gradually lost touch. And me? My head was always full of romance and foolish crushes; my scores hadn’t even come close to a respectable university. After becoming Mrs. Hayes, I’d often heard people comment on me. “Pretty, yes,” they’d say, “but willful, ignorant, just a pretty face with no substance.” With this second chance, I would right every one of those regrets. I squeezed Chloe’s hand. “Let’s work hard together and get into a great university!” 5 Picking up senior year knowledge again was anything but easy. After a full day of studying, my brain felt like it had been cracked into eight pieces. As dismissal neared, I got a text from Mom. “Darling, traffic’s a nightmare over here. The driver won’t make it in time to pick you up. Jackson will take you home today; I’ve already told him.” The dismissal bell rang, and I slowly packed my backpack. Chloe looked at me, utterly astonished. “Usually, the moment that bell rings, you’re the first one out the door! What’s wrong? Not in a rush to see your crush today?” Then I remembered. I’d confided all my secret teenage crushes to Chloe. She just didn’t know that the object of my affection was my own stepbrother. I nodded. “No, I don’t like him anymore.” Chloe clapped me on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit! There are plenty of fish in the sea; a strong woman like us shouldn’t waste her time on just one guy!” Despite her words, I wasn’t ready to be alone in a car with Jackson. After all our past intimacy, it would be far too awkward. I texted him: “Teacher kept us late. You go on home. I’ll just grab a ride later.” With my backpack slung over my shoulder, I wandered aimlessly around campus, killing time. Suddenly, a slightly nervous voice spoke from behind me. “Astrid Sheen, even though the man-made lake isn’t waist-deep, it’s pretty cold if you fall in.” Huh? I realized then that I’d unconsciously wandered to the edge of the man-made lake behind the school. I stopped and turned. The boy who’d called out to me wore his school uniform jacket over jeans. He was handsome, with sharp, defined brows. A gust of wind ruffled his dark hair, revealing a flash of crimson tucked beneath. It waved like a mischievous antenna, greeting me. “Ethan?” I asked. He froze. “You know me?” Our school had a pretty strict dress code. Only one person dared to defy it by wearing jeans instead of uniform trousers and dyeing his hair. Ethan Blackwood, the school’s notorious troublemaker. I’d heard that whenever teachers complained to Ethan’s dad, his dad would donate funds for a new school building or equipment. Even this small man-made lake had been built by him. “Who in this school doesn’t know you?” I retorted. “But how do you know my name?” A suspicious blush spread across Ethan’s face. “Oh, you know… from the campus’s Top Ten Singers competition last semester. You sang really well. I just… remembered.” I tilted my head. This school troublemaker was nothing like the rumors. He was actually kind of… cute? Was it because my mental age was several years older than his, making me see him like a little kid? 6 Ethan walked up to me. “I saw your back just now, you looked really down. Is something bothering you?” I thought for a moment, then replied, “I’m alright. Just had a bad dream last night.” “Must be all that senior year stress,” he said. Ethan reached into his uniform pocket, then opened his hand in front of me. A red-wrapped caramel sat in his palm. His eyes crinkled into a smile. “Have a piece of candy. Sweet lips, sweet heart, and maybe you’ll have a good dream tonight.” That vibrant, youthful face somehow soothed my agitation. I took the candy from his palm, unwrapped it, and popped it into my mouth. “Thanks.” My fingertips brushed his palm. It felt cool and a little damp, as if he’d broken out in a light sweat. He quickly shoved his hand back into his pocket. “It’s getting dark,” he said. “Let’s head home together.” We chatted idly as we walked towards the school gates. Ethan was surprisingly good at conversation; I don’t think I stopped smiling the entire way. We even exchanged numbers. By the time we reached the main gate, my ride-share car had just pulled up. I waved to Ethan. “I’m off! See you at school tomorrow.” Ethan seemed reluctant to end our conversation. “How about I give you a ride home? It’s late, and it’s not safe for you to be alone.” On the roadside, a matte black Porsche Cayenne was parked. Jackson Hayes leaned against it, smoking. The collar of his white shirt was slightly unbuttoned, the cigarette glowing intermittently between his fingers. His dark gaze swept over Ethan from head to toe, then settled on me. “Astrid Sheen,” he commanded, “come here.” 7 “You… why didn’t you leave?” I stared at Jackson, surprised. He extinguished his cigarette butt on a nearby trash can. “I replied, telling you I’d wait. Didn’t you see it?” I pulled out my phone to check. “It was on silent. My apologies.” There was no way around it; refusing again would be too obvious. I paid the waiting fee, canceled my ride-share, and prepared to go home with Jackson. Just as I was about to step forward, I felt a gentle tug from behind. Ethan had taken hold of my sleeve. “Is he… family?” I nodded. “He’s my stepbrother, yes.” Ethan stiffened, like a small, bristling wolf cub, his eyes filled with wary concern. “Does your brother have a bad temper? I feel like he’s a little angry right now. He wouldn’t… hit you when you get home, would he?” I couldn’t help but laugh, albeit without humor. “No, he wouldn’t. It’s just an extra half-hour wait.” In my previous life, I’d once smashed an antique vase he’d bought for half a million dollars, and Jackson hadn’t laid a finger on me. Ethan frowned. “I wasn’t talking about that… How about I still take you home?” Jackson opened his car door, his gaze fixed steadily on me. “Get in. We’re going home.” Why did it feel like… the atmosphere was all wrong? Were these two squaring off against each other? Ethan’s voice, however, held a hint of mischievous invitation. “Astrid, fancy a ride on a motorcycle?” My eyes lit up. “You ride a motorcycle to school?” Ethan’s lips curved into a smug smile. “Got my motorcycle license the day I turned eighteen. Don’t worry, it’s perfectly legal.” Unable to hide my excitement, I waved at Jackson. “You go on ahead. My friend will take me home.” With that, I grabbed Ethan’s hand and pulled him away, completely missing Jackson’s face, which had turned as dark as a storm cloud.

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On the day of my father’s sixtieth birthday party, my wife’s lover, Lucas Croft, somehow infiltrated the celebration. He projected intimate photos of himself and Serena onto the grand screen, then grabbed a microphone and challenged me: “Arthur Reed, please divorce Serena.” “She told me being with me in bed was far more satisfying than being with you. She loves me.” My father, enraged, suffered a heart attack and was rushed to the ICU. The last veil of dignity in my marriage to Serena was ripped away. I became a complete and utter joke. The next day, I arranged to meet Lucas and treated him to a live show. In the room right next to ours, Serena was subjected to an ordeal with multiple men, her gaze vacant and broken. I smiled, asking Lucas, “She seems to be enjoying this even more than she did with you. Do you still want her?” … “Arthur Reed, you’re nothing but a monster!” Lucas slammed a fist into my face, roaring for me to release Serena. Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward from behind me. One restrained Lucas. The other handed me a tissue. I wiped the blood from my face, then raised my fist and struck him across the bridge of his nose. A sickening crack echoed, and his nose broke. Lucas screamed, “Arthur Reed, how dare you do this to me? Do you know who my father is…” Before he could finish, a voice crackled over my walkie-talkie. “Mr. Reed, she’s fading.” I looked up. On the screen, Serena had already passed out. I glanced at the time, tutting softly. “That quick? Give her some stimulants.” A needle pierced Serena’s skin, and she slowly opened her eyes. Soon, the familiar sounds of heavy breathing resumed from the screen. Lucas’s face went white. “Arthur Reed, you’re insane! This is a crime!” “Mr. Croft, you exaggerate,” I smiled at him faintly, but my eyes were utterly cold. “I’m merely helping my wife satisfy her needs.” Lucas shuddered, as if finally realizing the extent of my ruthlessness. He seemed to crumble. “You can’t do this to her! Arthur Reed, no matter what, Serena is your wife! If you keep this up, she’ll be destroyed!” On the screen, the men’s heavy breathing continued, but Serena began to whimper in agony, begging them to stop. Seeing I was unmoved, Lucas’s tone softened. “Arthur Reed, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have interfered in your marriage, and I certainly shouldn’t have provoked you at your father’s birthday, ruining your reputation. But this has nothing to do with Serena. If you want revenge, take it out on me. Please, let her go.” I looked at Lucas, shaking my head. “Mr. Croft, your feelings for my wife truly run deep.” “But don’t worry, I’m a fair man. Between her and me, she’s the one who made the mistake. You won’t be implicated.” Two hours later, the voice on the walkie-talkie told me even the stimulants weren’t working anymore. I called a halt, then took Lucas to the adjacent room. The moment the door opened, Lucas burst inside. He embraced Serena, sobbing uncontrollably. “Serena, are you alright? What have they done to you?” Serena was too weak to even respond, her eyes blank, lying on the floor like a broken doll. I walked over. “Mr. Croft, I’m still here. Such intimacy with my wife isn’t appropriate, is it?” Serena finally lifted her head, her eyes burning with murderous hatred towards me. “Arthur Reed, you’re a complete madman!” “Let’s get a divorce.” Serena had taken many lovers. Quite a few of them had made a scene in front of me. Every time those men came to provoke me, I made sure she received the full measure of my retaliation. But this was the first time she had asked me for a divorce. “No.” I looked Lucas over again. “Serena, don’t forget, I gave you a chance five years ago. Back then, you refused to divorce, and you even gave my father a heart attack. Now you want to escape, to be with someone else? Ha, keep dreaming!” It seemed Lucas was indeed different to Serena. Before, no matter how I hurt Serena, she always endured it in silence. Only this time, she reported me to the police. Lucas presented a video, accusing me of kidnapping and coercing others to assault Serena, demanding the police arrest me. He gesticulated wildly. “Officers, he’s a lawyer! He knows the law and breaks it! A man like this practicing law is terrifying! You must arrest him immediately!” The officer asked if what he said was true. I shook my head. “No, these are all false accusations. He and my wife were having an affair; he wants to take my place. I refused to divorce, so this is all a setup by the two of them to frame me.” The officer’s gaze immediately shifted to Lucas, his face etched with disdain. Lucas grew frantic. “There’s a video! How can you say it’s false? I even have a witness!” With a phone call, he summoned one of the men who had been in the room that day. The man admitted to having been coerced by me into doing unspeakable things to Serena, and even produced the injection drugs. Lucas immediately beamed with triumph. “With both human testimony and physical evidence, Arthur Reed, what more do you have to say?” I said nothing, merely continuing to present my own evidence: Chat logs of Serena arranging to meet with several men; surveillance footage of Serena opening the door for them; and the drugs were purchased using Serena’s account, and that room was one Serena frequently booked. The evidence proved that Serena had arranged everything herself, gotten carried away, and then tried to pin the blame on me. Lucas’s face turned scarlet with rage. “These are fabricated! Serena would never do such things!” “Why not?” I pressed a hand to my chest, feigning heartache. “Mr. Croft, you still don’t know my wife at all. She loves to play games. Ah, you’re still young. It’s best you leave this toxic woman soon.” My “sincere advice” landed in Lucas’s ears as pure mockery. He frantically accused me of fabricating evidence, demanding the police investigate thoroughly. However, after extensive investigation, nothing could prove I had done it. In the end, even the witness changed his testimony, producing bank transfer records, claiming Lucas had paid him a sum to commit perjury. Lucas’s face went chalk-white with fury. “You’re lying! You were the most… involved with her that day!” He moved to strike me. I blocked him. “Mr. Croft, he was kind enough to testify for you, and you’re hitting him? How unreasonable can you be?” Seeing the apparent familiarity between me and the witness, Lucas suddenly understood. “You two are in this together!” No matter how much he ranted, the incident ultimately ended with the police trying to de-escalate the situation. The officers told Lucas to return when he had concrete evidence, then escorted us out of the station. As soon as I had seen the witness off, Lucas stomped over and slapped me. “Arthur Reed, Serena stopped loving you ages ago. You’re still clinging to her. You truly have no shame!” I’ve always been one for an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. So, before he could finish speaking, I grabbed his hair and slapped him twice, hard. “Am I shameless, or is it you, the homewrecker who plastered intimate photos of yourself at another man’s father’s birthday party?” At that, Lucas actually gave a chilling smile. “Serena was right. It turns out your father is what you care about most.” My heart tightened. “Lucas, I’ve always believed that my wife’s infidelity was a failure on my part to manage her, which is why I punish Serena, not you. But if you dare touch my father, I will make sure both of you are utterly destroyed.” “Oh? How exactly do you plan to destroy us?” Lucas smiled, a triumphant smirk. “Arthur Reed, aren’t you curious why Serena isn’t here today?” My heart rate immediately surged. Just as I was about to grab his hair again to demand answers, my phone rang. After answering, I froze. My father had been discharged from the hospital. When I arrived, he was lying in the hospital corridor. Nurse Eva told me that someone claiming to be my wife had come to arrange a transfer to another hospital. But after the paperwork was completed, she abandoned my father right there in the hospital. Eva had tried to call me several times, but couldn’t get through. She tried to arrange for him to be readmitted, but the hospital required a direct family member to do so. Without a doubt, Serena was behind this. At that moment, my father’s face in the corridor was already turning purple. There was no time to question Serena. I rushed to find a doctor to admit him. But in the office, I was stunned. The doctor told me my father’s condition was too severe; they couldn’t admit him. I exploded. “What are you talking about? Last night you told me my father’s condition had improved and he could undergo surgery! Now you can’t admit him?” The doctor recoiled, frightened. “Mr. Reed, please calm down. A patient’s condition can fluctuate. He could be fine last night and severely worsen today.” I asked him, “If he’s so critical, why did you allow someone to discharge him?” The doctor spread his hands. “Your wife insisted on the discharge. We respected your family’s wishes.” After a few exchanges, even an idiot would understand someone was pulling strings behind the scenes. Otherwise, how would the doctors dare to do this? I left the office and immediately called Serena, demanding to know why she had done it. “To teach you a lesson, of course,” Serena said bluntly. “Arthur Reed, I think Jasmine was right. I was too kind to you, making you think I was easy to push around. After what you did to me, why wouldn’t I retaliate?” I lost my patience. “If you want revenge, take it out on me! Why involve my father, Serena? Don’t you remember who took you in when you were begging on the streets?” I simply couldn’t believe Serena would harm my father. She was ten years old when her family threw her out, nearly freezing to death on the streets in the dead of winter. It was my father who found her, took her in, and gave her food. At the mention of the past, Serena wavered. She began, “Alright, then…” “Serena, is that it? Are you just going to let this go?” Just then, Lucas’s voice cut in. “Don’t forget the real reason we’re doing this.” Serena fell silent for a few seconds, then spoke again, her voice chillingly cold. “Arthur Reed, if you want your father admitted, then come and sign the divorce papers with me.” “Impossible!” I roared. “Serena, don’t forget, five years ago, you angered my father so much he ended up in the hospital. You promised him then that there would only be widowhood, never divorce. If I divorce you now, even if my father recovers, he might just die from the shock!” “What does that have to do with me?” Serena’s words were like a bucket of ice water over my head. “In short, no divorce, and your father dies.” The call disconnected. When I tried to call back, her phone was off. There was no time to argue with Serena. I began arranging for my father to be transferred. It wasn’t until several hospitals across the city successively refused admission that I received the information about Lucas that my assistant, Mark, sent me. Only then did I understand what Serena meant by “dies.” Lucas’s father was the chairman of the country’s largest pharmaceutical company, with partnerships with every hospital in the city. Undoubtedly, Lucas had contacted all the hospitals. Years of legal experience told me that figures like us were mere eggs against a rock when facing such capital. Even if their actions were illegal and I found proof, there would always be someone willing to take the fall for them. In my despair, Nurse Eva’s voice rang out again. “Mr. Reed, hurry! Your father isn’t breathing!” I rushed to my father’s side. Confirming he had no heartbeat, I immediately climbed onto the bed and began CPR. Nurse Eva ran to find a doctor. Perhaps the doctors still had some conscience. Perhaps they simply thought a patient dying right at the hospital entrance would be too much trouble. Soon, two doctors arrived and managed to revive my father. Afterward, one of the doctors pulled me aside, implying that even though he had been revived this time, my father likely wouldn’t survive another eight hours without proper hospitalization. I understood what he meant. After entrusting my father to Nurse Eva, I went to find Serena. She was with Lucas, sitting on his lap and feeding him grapes. I slammed the divorce papers onto the table in front of her. “Serena, I agree.” Serena glanced at me, then nervously stood up. “Arthur, are you crying?” I cursed at her. “Don’t pretend! Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” Serena frowned, said nothing more, picked up the pen, and signed. After signing, she told me, “Arthur, we can still be friends. Once your father… once Mr. Reed Sr. is discharged, I can even pretend with you.” “Forget it. I wouldn’t be friends with scum like you.” I bent down, signed my name, and then flung the divorce papers at her. “Now we’re divorced! Go arrange my father’s admission immediately!” Serena turned to Lucas. “Lucas, call the hospital.” Unexpectedly, Lucas smirked. “Who said that if you two divorced, I’d let his father be admitted?” I was dumbfounded. “You clearly promised me just now…” “She promised you, not me,” Lucas stood up, patting my face. “Arthur Reed, aren’t you supposed to be so arrogant and brilliant? How can you not even handle such a small matter?” I stared fixedly at Lucas. “So, what will it take for you to spare my father?” Lucas chuckled. “Simple. Strip naked right now, go out to the street, and beg on your knees, loudly proclaiming that you’re a shameless animal, that you seduced a married woman. Do that a hundred times, and I’ll have your father admitted.” The air instantly froze. Serena seemed about to speak, but Lucas’s stare silenced her. I took a deep breath, then spoke. “Alright.”

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My grandmother has this obsession with making me go to bed early and waking me up hours before I need to. I start work at 8 AM, but she wakes me up at 5 AM. Every time, I have to lie to her: “It’s already 9 AM! I’m going to be late!” just to get her to stop. Over time, the severe sleep deprivation gave me chronic anxiety and neurasthenia. I was even called out by HR multiple times for zoning out. One more mistake, and I’d be fired. I begged my grandma: “I set my own alarm. I don’t need you to wake me up!” She wiped her tears, acting like the victim. My dad saw this and slapped me across the face. “Just go to sleep earlier! Why do you have to make your grandmother cry?” I suddenly remembered that my dad was still banking on my salary to pay for his surgery. Fine. Let them push me. It’s not like I’m the one who needs the money. 1 At 8 PM, I finally finished a project and dragged myself home. The workload had been insane lately. I hadn’t had a break in forever. I planned to zone out in front of the TV for a bit. “Susie, you’re back? No work today? Why are you watching TV?” Grandma came out of her room. Afraid the volume would bother her, I muted it immediately. I explained that the project was wrapping up and tomorrow was a big day, so the company let us go home to rest. But I still had to review some files my colleague would send over later. I checked the time. The files wouldn’t arrive for a while. So, I just wanted to relax. Hearing this, Grandma got anxious. She walked over and turned off the TV. The screen went black. Her tone was urgent and undeniable. “It’s almost nine! Why are you watching TV? Go to sleep! You have work tomorrow. If you sleep late, you won’t get up.” “By the way, sweetie, what time do you have to wake up tomorrow?” I sighed helplessly. “Grandma, I still have to review files later.” “And for tomorrow, I set my own alarm. I’ll get up on time. Don’t worry.” I knew her temper too well. If I told her the actual time, she’d be knocking on my door hours beforehand. Better not to tell her. Tomorrow was a heavy workload; I needed rest. Grandma didn’t get the answer she wanted and walked away, looking dissatisfied. I rested for a bit until the files arrived. By 10 PM, I finished the revisions. My boss, Mr. Henderson, called to discuss some details for the morning meeting. Just as I picked up, Grandma walked in with a cup of warm water, urging me to drink it and sleep. I nodded perfunctorily and continued talking to Henderson. Five minutes later, she was back at the door, muttering about how staying up late damages the liver and causes wrinkles. I was afraid she’d come in and yell if I ignored her, which would be humiliating if Henderson heard. So I nodded again, signaling I’d hang up and sleep soon. But my worst fear happened. Grandma suddenly pushed the door open, her voice booming. “It’s so late, why are you still on the phone? Hang up and sleep! Can’t you talk tomorrow?” I covered the mic in panic, but Henderson had already heard. His voice was awkward. “Alright… Susie, you get some rest. No rush, we can discuss the details tomorrow.” I looked at the ended call, furious. I wanted to argue with her. But seeing Grandma with tears in her eyes, looking so “concerned,” I deflated. I had nowhere to vent this anger. I just agreed to go to bed, apologized to Henderson via text, and got ready for sleep. Grandma finally left, satisfied. Maybe I was too exhausted, but it felt like I had barely slept when a violent banging on the door woke me up. Grandma’s frantic shouting accompanied it. “Get up! It’s almost ten! Don’t you have work? You’re going to be late!” The banging was loud and urgent, like she was trying to break the door down. I shot up from bed, mind blank, adrenaline spiking. Henderson said there was an important meeting at 9 AM today. I grabbed my clothes and threw them on. Without even putting on shoes, I rushed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I finished, I noticed the window looked… different. Too dark. I picked up my phone suspiciously. The time on the screen made me freeze. 3:07 AM. A wave of suppressed grievance and rage crashed over me. I walked to Grandma’s room and raised my voice. “Grandma! It’s 3 AM! Why are you waking me up? I told you I set an alarm. Why won’t you listen?” Grandma came out, eyes instantly red, wiping them with her hand. “I… I asked you what time to get up, and you didn’t say. I was afraid I’d call you too late and you’d miss work, so I called you as early as possible.” Her voice was full of grievance, like a helpless child. “If you had just told me when you were leaving, I wouldn’t have woken you up so early.” I was exhausted. After consecutive days of high-intensity overtime, I didn’t have the energy to fight her. “Didn’t I say I set an alarm?” “How is an alarm reliable? What if the battery dies? What if it doesn’t ring? I’m doing this for your own good. I don’t want your boss to yell at you.” She insisted on her logic, looking at me with total confusion. Seeing her about to cry, I didn’t know how to vent my anger. I took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil, and explained gently. “Grandma, I just need to leave by 8:30 tomorrow. You don’t need to wake me up early. I set multiple alarms. I will get up. I won’t be late.” I watched her turn back to her room. Only when I heard her light click off did I relax. This should be fine now. Rubbing my throbbing temples, I walked heavily to the living room. I took out my meds for anxiety and insomnia. My sleep had always been poor. With the stress, if I didn’t take them, I wouldn’t sleep at all tonight. Back in bed, I checked my alarms again before lying down. My eyelids were heavy, but my nerves were strung tight. The slightest noise would wake me. I didn’t know how much time passed before I drifted off. “Susie! Get up! The sun is burning your butt!” I jerked awake from a dream. Reflexively, I grabbed my phone. 5:00 AM. In that moment, all the exhaustion, grievance, and patience exploded. I stared at the number on the screen, rage rushing to my head. “Grandma, can you stop?!” “I told you I set an alarm! I don’t need to get up until 7! Why are you waking me at 5?!” Grandma was already by my bed, her tone urgent as always. “Is 5 AM early? You have to leave by 8:30. Washing up and eating takes time, right? What if there’s traffic? Better to be early.” “I don’t need breakfast! I’ll buy something on the way!” “I need sleep! I need rest!” I pointed at my head, my voice rising. “Grandma, I have neurasthenia. The doctor said I need sleep! You torture me like this again and again—what if I make a mistake tomorrow? What if I get fired?” The smile on Grandma’s face froze. Seeing my agitation, her eyes reddened again. “I… I’m doing this for your own good… afraid you won’t make it…” “If it’s for my own good, stop disturbing my sleep!” I interrupted her, my voice breaking. “Do you know how important this job is? Dad is counting on my salary for his surgery! If I get fired, what about the medical bills? Have you thought about that?” “I didn’t mean to harm you… I was just afraid you’d be late…” I threw the covers off, grabbed a jacket, and stormed to the door without a word. After pushing Grandma out, I slammed the door and locked it. I leaned against the door, chest heaving. I knew I was impulsive, but I couldn’t take it anymore. Back in bed, I pulled the covers over my head to block out everything. The medication seemed to kick in. Combined with extreme exhaustion, I actually drifted off again. I don’t know how much time passed when a soft knock sounded. Followed by Grandma’s cautious voice. “Susie, get up for breakfast. I made your favorite oatmeal and eggs. It’ll get cold.” I woke up with a start, covered in cold sweat. I checked my phone. 5:30 AM. Only thirty minutes since the last time. A deep sense of powerlessness washed over me. I lay there, not wanting to move. Sleepiness drowned me like a tide, but my mind was wired tight. The torture of a body wanting sleep but a brain unable to relax was driving me insane. “Susie? Did you hear me?” Grandma’s voice was softer, probing. “The oatmeal is really soft, good for your stomach. Eat a little and then sleep.” I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth, forcing myself not to respond. In a trance, memories of being woken up too early by Grandma flooded back. It was the winter of my sophomore year in high school. Mom was diagnosed with a serious illness and hospitalized. Dad had to stay at the hospital 24/7, so he brought Grandma from the countryside to take care of me. When she first arrived, she promised Dad she’d take good care of me. Looking at my kind grandmother, I was happy. But I never expected her to wake me up the next morning before dawn. “Susie! Get up! It’s 6:30! You’ll be late for school!” I asked groggily. “Grandma, it’s pitch black. How is it 6:30?” “You child, you’re sleeping too deeply!” She threw clothes at me. “Put them on! I heated up breakfast. Eat and go, don’t let the teacher catch you late.” I was young and didn’t dare disobey her. I fumbled to get dressed. She brought warm oatmeal. I took two bites and was ushered out the door. The moment I pushed open the building door, I was stunned. Outside was pitch black. Not a soul on the street. How could it be 6:30? I stood at the door, wanting her to let me back in. But the door was deadbolted from the inside. Freezing and trembling, filled with grievance and fear, I had no choice but to walk to school. It wasn’t until after 6 AM that other students started arriving. No one knew I stood at the school gate for over three hours that day. When I got home, I cried and told Grandma. Hoping she would change. She listened, eyes red, holding my hand. “Oh sweetie, Grandma was wrong. I’ll check the time carefully next time.” I believed her. But a few days later, she woke me at 3 AM, claiming I was late again. I argued, but she frowned and said: “Getting up early is never wrong. What if the bus is late? What if there’s traffic? Why are you being disobedient? Do you want your parents to worry about you at a time like this?” Afraid of stressing my sick mother, I didn’t dare argue back. From high school to college, to graduation and work, this pattern of early waking entangled me for years. A year ago, due to chronic sleep deprivation, I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and neurasthenia. 2 “Susie? Are you getting up? The oatmeal is really getting cold.” “Enough! Are you done yet?!” I screamed at the door, my voice tearing. The knocking stopped instantly, followed by Grandma’s sobbing. “I made breakfast out of kindness, afraid you’d be hungry. How can you treat me like this? I’m old, useless… even cooking for my granddaughter is annoying… I’m just a burden.” “I didn’t call you a burden!” Her crying got louder, filled with confusion and grievance. “I got up early to cook, afraid you’d be late. I think of you in everything, but you talk to me like this… If you won’t eat, fine. Others need to eat! Your brother is still sleeping, go wake him up to eat.” I wanted to laugh. My brother, Tyler, has been mooching off the family since graduation. Sleeps until afternoon, games all night. Grandma never wakes him up early. Now she wants me to wake him? I couldn’t deal with her. I put in earplugs, determined not to open the door. Minutes later, my door was pounded heavily. Tyler’s impatient voice followed. Grandma must have said something to him. “Susie, are you shameless? Grandma made breakfast early, and you’re cursing her out?” Cursing her? When did I curse her? I knew Grandma was triangulating again. It was her signature move. Whenever we had a conflict, she went to Tyler and Dad, complaining about how bad I was. Packaging herself as the bullied victim, making me the villain. Tyler’s knocking got louder. “Open the door! Or I’m kicking it in!” “Tyler, don’t kick the door.” Grandma’s voice chimed in, not stopping him, but fueling the fire. “Talk to your sister nicely. Tell her if she doesn’t get up, she’ll be late. If she loses her job, what about your dad’s surgery fee? She can’t be this immature.” “Hear that, Susie?” Tyler shouted louder. “Grandma said it! Open up! Don’t make me do it!” Just then, Dad’s raspy cough came from the hallway. “What is that noise! Can’t a man rest?!” Tyler stopped banging, tone softening instantly. “Dad, Sis won’t open the door! Grandma called her to eat, she was ungrateful and yelled at Grandma. Grandma’s crying!” “Susie! Open this door!” Dad started banging harder. Listening to the three of them perform outside, I felt nothing but agony. I didn’t understand. We were a family. How did it become like this? “Your grandma cooked for you out of kindness, woke you up so you wouldn’t be late. How are you so immature? Daring to talk back to your grandma and get angry at your brother!” I took a deep breath, gritting my teeth. “You still dare to have an attitude!” I yanked the door open. Dad’s eyes were full of rage. Grandma sat on the sofa wiping tears, shoulders shaking. Tyler leaned against the doorframe, gloating. I met their gazes, voice hoarse but clear. “My job is this family’s lifeline! The surgery fees, the rehab costs—what isn’t supported by my salary? If I get fired for mistakes due to sleep deprivation, who is going to step up? You can all go pick through trash then!” Dad’s face turned iron-green. He didn’t expect me to speak like that. He shook with anger. Slap! A crisp sound echoed in the living room. My head snapped to the side, cheek burning. Dad’s hand was still in the air, eyes furious. “I’ll beat you to death, you ungrateful thing!” Grandma immediately stood up, grabbing Dad’s hand, crying. “Son, don’t hit her, don’t hit her. Susie is young, she doesn’t know better. We’ll teach her slowly. I can suffer a little…” Her eyes held no real intention to stop him, but a trace of hidden triumph. As long as Dad and Tyler stood with her against me, she could be the “Good Grandma” again. Speaking for me. “Mom, don’t always victimize yourself. I wish I never had such a shameless daughter.” Tyler fanned the flames. “Dad hit her right! Sis is too immature. Grandma was nice to cook, and she talks back. Anyone would be angry!” “Grandma, don’t blame yourself. We see everything.” I covered my burning cheek, looking at this family, feeling utterly ridiculous. “Fine. I’m immature. Since you all think I’m wrong, I’ll be wrong all the way.” I was young, educated, and had some savings. I wouldn’t starve. If they wanted to create chaos, I’d let them. I walked to the table and sat down. The oatmeal was cold. Clearly not made this morning. Probably leftovers from yesterday. Seeing me sit, Grandma sniffled. “Eat quickly, then go to work. Don’t be late.” I didn’t have the energy to fight over food. I ate quickly, put down the bowl, and got up to leave. Just then, my phone blared its alarm. 7:20 AM. The time I should have woken up. Hearing the alarm, the grievance on Grandma’s face vanished, replaced by a relieved satisfaction. Like she had won the battle. She stood up, smoothing her clothes. “Alright, alarm rang. Go to work. Don’t be late.” She didn’t look at me again, turning slowly to her room and closing the door. Dad yawned and went back to his room to sleep. In minutes, the family that had just surrounded and scolded me all went back to sleep. Only I was left in the living room. I looked at the empty room, feeling the absurdity. They had energy to fight me because they could sleep while I worked. So ironic. 3 Arriving at the office, my colleague Jessica looked surprised. “Susie, what happened? You look terrible.” Her voice attracted concerned looks. I forced a smile, shook my head, but felt bitter inside. Sitting down, turning on my computer, Mr. Henderson appeared at the door, eyes sharp on me. “Susie, come to my office.” My heart sank. I followed him. Inside, Henderson pointed to the chair. Straight to the point. “Your recent state is very poor. If you can’t balance family and work, I personally think we need to reconsider your promotion. The company doesn’t need an unstable Sales Director.” My breath hitched. I knew what he meant. If this contract went through, the promotion was a done deal. But my state yesterday and today, plus Grandma’s interference… Henderson was worried. I clenched my fists. “Mr. Henderson, I know I messed up. I prepared this proposal for a month, checked every detail. Give me one more chance. I can land this.” Henderson looked at me, silent for a few seconds, then agreed. “Go over the details we didn’t finish yesterday.” I pulled out the documents. Just as we reached the critical pricing split, my phone rang. I pulled it out instinctively. Grandma. I couldn’t fathom why she was calling now. I muted it, apologizing to Henderson. He frowned but signaled me to continue. Two sentences later, it vibrated again. Grandma. Irritated, I turned the phone off. But the next second, the burner phone in my pocket rang. Henderson’s face went dark, disappointment evident. “Take the call. Handle your personal business before working.” I bit my lip, answering. Grandma’s frantic voice came through. “Susie! Why did you take so long? Did you eat lunch? Remember to come home early after work, don’t stay out!” “Grandma, I’m negotiating an important contract with my boss. Can you stop calling?” Grandma choked up instantly. Same logic. She cares, I’m ungrateful. I had no patience for her performance. Jessica, my competition for this project, had already walked in to brief Henderson. Henderson nodded frequently, satisfaction visible. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I hung up. Soon, Dad texted. [Grandma cares about you, why hang up on her?] [Susie, don’t think because you’re grown you can disrespect elders.] [By the way, end of the month. You got paid right? Transfer the medical fees.] I looked at the message, lost in thought. Paid? I looked like I was about to be fired. Dad loved chewing tobacco. Got oral cancer. Surgery was expensive. I was the only earner. I didn’t understand why they treated me like this. I didn’t reply. Jessica stood before me. “Susie, do some routine work if you’re not feeling well. Mr. Henderson gave me the project.” Her eyes held ambition and relief. I forced a smile to congratulate her.

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I have a secret crush on my stepbrother, Adrian. But he is a perfect gentleman, which makes me feel like a twisted, dark pervert. Then he went on a blind date. The woman was too perfect for him. I went crazy with jealousy and drugged his drink. I know Adrian is a responsible man. After tonight, even if he doesn’t love me, he will have to marry me. Everything was going smoothly. However, at the last moment, I regretted it. I couldn’t bear to hurt him… Before he woke up, I tried to sneak away. But suddenly, a hand grabbed my ankle. “Giving up halfway isn’t a good habit, is it? Little… sister.” 1 At 10:00 PM, Adrian drank the water I poured for him. At 12:00 AM, I pushed open his bedroom door. My footsteps on the cashmere carpet were silent. Adrian was already deep asleep. I skillfully turned on the night light. Tracing his eyebrows and eyes with my finger, dipped in the soft light. He seemed ticklish and frowned slightly. My finger paused, but I wasn’t afraid. I’ve drugged him with sleeping pills too many times. I have the dosage down to a science. He won’t wake up before 6 AM. Sure enough, his breathing soon became even and long again. I turned off the light, kicked off my slippers. Lifted the corner of the quilt and burrowed in. Adrian habitually sleeps on his back. I rested my head on his arm, wrapped my arms around his waist, and buried myself deeply in his embrace. Sometimes I really wish the world was only night. Then Adrian would belong only to me. Unfortunately, that’s just a dream. At 5:00 AM, my smartwatch vibrated. I woke up almost instantly and turned off the alarm. The room was still dark. I carefully got up, touched Adrian’s hair. Got out of bed and went back to my room. It was almost dawn. I wasn’t sleepy anymore, so I went to wash up. In the mirror, a pale face stared back. Only then did I realize my lips were swollen and red. I touched them; there was a distinct stinging pain. Strange… I frowned. Is it allergies? Or did I eat something spicy? 2 It was the end of the year, and classes were wrapping up. I packed up early and moved back home from the dorms. Adrian seemed very busy lately, always working overtime. But he still strictly adhered to the agreement I pestered him into making when we were kids: be home before 10:30 PM every night. Tonight, I was curled up on the sofa writing a term paper. The lock clicked, and Adrian walked in. He had obviously been out drinking; the smell of alcohol drifted off him. Bending over, changing shoes—all his movements were half a beat slower than usual. My gaze stuck to him, unable to move away. Drunk Adrian seemed even more handsome. While his head was lowered, my eyes greedily traced his high brow bone, the slightly red corners of his eyes, and his moist, flushed lips… When I was very young, I wrote in an essay that my brother was a “beautiful man.” Back then, he seriously corrected me, saying “beautiful” describes women. But I stubbornly believe Adrian is beautiful. While my thoughts were running wild. Adrian suddenly stood up and stumbled. I threw my laptop aside and ran to support him. Bit by bit, I helped him sit on the sofa. His shirt was already messy. Tie loose, hem untucked. Because of his leaning posture, a section of his waist was exposed—lean and tight. I involuntarily swallowed. “Ava.” Just then, Adrian called me. “Huh?” I snapped back to reality. “Can you get me some hangover medicine?” “Oh, okay!” I hurried to rummage through the cabinet. When I came back, Adrian was asleep. Probably feeling hot, he had pulled off his tie. His collar was wide open, unreservedly exposing his chest muscles. My brain felt like it was boiling, too hot to think. After a long while, I took out my phone and took a picture. Adrian suddenly moved. I jumped and hid my phone. Guilty as a thief, I called him: “Adrian?” “Hmm?” He opened his eyes, his vision slowly focusing. He thanked me and took the medicine from my hand. After taking it, he walked unsteadily into the bathroom to shower. 3 I sat on the sofa, looking at the photo I just took. Zoom in, zoom out. Zoom out, zoom in. My heartbeat was exceptionally loud in the quiet living room. Suddenly, a loud thud came from the bathroom. Followed by Adrian’s cry of pain. I jumped up and rushed over. “Adrian, what happened?” I pounded on the door, but there was no answer. Afraid something happened to him, I turned the knob and barged in. Adrian was sitting on the floor. Probably hurt from the fall, his face twisted in pain. Seeing me enter, he frantically pulled his bathrobe together. But being drunk, his fingers were stiff and slow; he couldn’t tie the belt for a long time. “I’m fine.” I helped him up, pretending to be calm, but my hands were shaking. After confirming he was really okay, I helped him out and slowly upstairs. A pleasant scent wafted from him. I walked diagonally behind him, secretly taking deep breaths. It was the same body wash, but on him, it was extraordinarily different. Suddenly, a drop of water fell from his hair tips, landing on my fingertip. It was cold, but felt like a wildfire. I froze for several seconds before quietly rubbing it away. Adrian took hangover medicine tonight, so he shouldn’t take other drugs. But he fell asleep quickly. In the dark, I stared at him for a long time before quietly leaving. 4 On the weekend, my best friend Chloe called me out. She is the only person who knows all my secrets. As soon as we met, she teased me: “Oho, our beauty Ava has dark circles? Did you sneak into your brother’s room again in the middle of the night?” I didn’t speak. She took my silence as confirmation. Smiling slyly, she bumped my shoulder. “Did you do that to him—” “No.” Two girls exchanged a look, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. I denied it too quickly. Chloe tutted and patted my shoulder. “You are truly amazing. Call you normal, you sneak into a man’s room every night. “Call you a pervert, but you don’t dare do anything. Drugging him every few days just to sleep next to him.” I lowered my eyes: “Doing it would leave marks. With his personality, if he found out, he’d go crazy… “We wouldn’t even be able to be siblings anymore.” “True, your brother looks like a proper gentleman.” Chloe propped her chin. “You’ve been fostered in his family for so many years, no different from a biological sister. “If he knew what was in your head, he’d be scared to death.” “Yeah.” A heavy sense of loss surged, making my breathing difficult. Chloe saw it and hugged me. “Hey! Listen to me, stop liking him. “Love once to suffer, love ten times and you won’t have time to suffer.” She finished speaking and leaned in mysteriously. She said she prepared a gift for me, and I would definitely like it. Half an hour later, in a KTV private room. I saw the gift Chloe mentioned. It was a… male host… who looked 60-70% like my brother… Chloe pulled him to sit next to me, telling him to chat with me properly. The man’s hand hovered over my shoulder. I admit, I was dazed for a few seconds. But as soon as he opened his mouth, full of flattery, my interest vanished instantly. Adrian would never use that tone with me. He is someone who seems gentle and polite, easy to approach, but actually maintains a perfect distance from everyone, like being behind a layer of impenetrable glass. Even though I’ve lived with him for so long, I can’t guess what he’s thinking. “Sister?” Seeing me zone out, the host waved his hand in front of my eyes. I snapped back, told him to sit further away, and ignore me. I took out my phone and leaned back to play. A notification from a location app popped up just then. I clicked it. The next second, I was shocked to find that Adrian’s coordinates overlapped with mine. 5 I refreshed several times, confirming it wasn’t a bug, then dashed out the door. Why is Adrian here? Shouldn’t he be working overtime? I strangely walked past one private room door after another. The distance prompted by the system got closer and closer… Finally, reduced to 0. I looked through the crack in the door. Not only did I see Adrian, but I also saw several men and women his age. Instrumental music was playing inside; they were chatting and laughing. I pressed against the crack, pricking up my ears, trying to eavesdrop. After a while, I realized they were setting Adrian up on a blind date! My gaze moved slowly, landing on the only woman in the room. Features bright and beautiful, temperament elegant. I had to admit, she looked really compatible with Adrian. My heart tightened suddenly, my hand unconsciously resting on the door handle. Nail hit metal, making a slight sound. Adrian looked over curiously. Glad for my quick reflexes, I squatted down immediately. Before he came out, I fled back to my room like an escapee. In the private room, the host peeled several mandarins for me. But I had no appetite at all. I stared unblinkingly at the location app. Half an hour later, Adrian’s coordinates started moving again. I grabbed my bag and chased after him. In the lobby, a group of people were saying goodbye. Adrian personally hailed a cab and put the woman in. She was blushing. Reading lips, she seemed to say “See you next time.” Adrian nodded. He watched her leave before getting into his own car. 6 When I got home, Adrian was sitting on the sofa reading a book. As soon as I approached him, I smelled a woman’s perfume. Nails digging into my palms, I pretended not to know and asked him: “Bro, where did you go today? Why do you smell like perfume?” Adrian paused, sniffed his sleeve. A rare shyness appeared on his face: “Friends introduced a blind date. We probably sat too close, it rubbed off.” “You want to get married?” I stared at him without blinking. Adrian nodded: “Yes, at my age, I should consider marriage.” “Your age? You’re still young!” I blurted out. Adrian looked helpless. After a while, he sighed: “Ava, my biggest wish before was for you to get into a good university, so I spent all my thoughts on you, ignoring my own affairs. “But now you’re a junior, I should have my own life too, right?” “But…” “But what?” Adrian looked up at me. His neck tilted slightly back, stretching into a smooth and fragile arc. The light flowed over his eyes, jawline… landing on his slightly open collar, collarbone looming. He really is… So beautiful. I felt like I was going crazy. Or rather, I was already crazy. I wanted to kiss him, bite him, lock him up so he could never go out, never smile at anyone else. My heart beat wildly in my chest. I clenched my fists tightly, constantly adjusting my breathing to keep my emotions from showing. But Adrian still sensed something strange. He stood up, approaching me with concern. “Ava, what’s wrong?” I quickly lowered my eyes. After a long while, I managed to speak again: “But I can’t bear to let you go. If you get married and have your own family, you won’t be close to me anymore.” “I won’t.” Adrian rubbed the top of my head. “You will.” I insisted. “Since I started college, you haven’t been as close to me as before.” “That’s because you grew up. I have to avoid suspicion.” See. I closed my eyes. If the price of growing up is losing him, then I’d rather be a child forever. My eyes suddenly felt sour. Adrian rubbed my head again. “Men and women should marry, it’s normal. Ava will marry someone in the future too.” I won’t! I screamed in my heart.

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