I’m the canary of a gloomy villain, but I’m a lazy one. When the villain went bankrupt, the System ordered me to humiliate him, dump him, and ignite his fighting spirit so he could rise again. I said no. I was too lazy to yell at him. Jasper gripped my chin, his voice harsh. “Everyone else has left me. Why are you still here? To laugh at my downfall?” I let out a slow, deliberate yawn. “Too lazy to run.” His eyes reddened, and he sank into despair. “I’m just a useless, broke loser now. I can’t give you the life of luxury you had before…” I patted his head. “Alright, aren’t you tired after saying all that? Come here. Let’s get some rest.” And so, to prevent me from starving to death, Jasper Blackwood pulled himself together and worked himself to the bone, juggling three jobs a day. When the point in the original novel arrived where he was supposed to be deepening his bond with the female lead, Jasper was at home instead, kneeling on one knee, meticulously tying the ribbon on my dress into a perfect bow. The System shrieked in my head: “Sis, what are you, some kind of chaos agent?!” 1 My name is Lila, and I am the kept woman of Jasper Blackwood, a big shot in the city’s elite circle. And I am a lazy person. People used to say Jasper was great at keeping secrets, because despite how long I’d been with him, you couldn’t find a single photo of me online. Well… The truth is, I just spent all my days lying around at home. I was too lazy to go out. Becoming his canary was something of an accident. After college, I sent my resume to his company. In the “Desired Position” field, I wrote: “Less work, more pay.” In the “Personal Bio” section: “Good at eating.” Jasper clutched that resume, turning it over and over, trying to decipher its meaning. Driven by sheer curiosity, he decided to interview me himself. I explained, “It’s shorthand for ‘good for nothing but eating and lazing around.’” He furrowed his brow, completely baffled. “Then why didn’t you write the whole thing?” I took a sip of water and, at a languid 0.75x speed, uttered three words: “Too lazy.” Jasper was speechless. Despite the train wreck of an interview, I still got a job. Jasper needed a way out of an arranged business marriage, so he hired me to be his professional canary. I weighed the pros and cons in my head— High pay, low effort. And I could work from home. It was a perfect fit. My constitution is weak, and I’m always low on energy. Walking a few steps makes me want to squat, and standing up too fast makes the world go black. My only real talent is my incredibly high-quality sleep. This, as it turned out, was a huge benefit for Jasper. He’s a sensitive and somewhat gloomy person. A traumatic childhood, being bullied and ostracized in school, getting backstabbed by a partner after starting his business… it all left its mark. He became suspicious and emotionally wound-up, often suffering from depression and insomnia. Every night, he would use me as a human pillow, pulling me into his arms. He’d breathe in the scent of my hair, gently squeeze the soft flesh at my waist, and his entire body would relax, allowing him a full night of peaceful sleep. All I had to do was sleep. Every time I opened my eyes, there would be gifts and money transfers waiting for me. It was truly… a dream offer. 2 But now, things had taken a very bad turn. Jasper had been set up and had gone bankrupt. He was overwhelmed, and I hadn’t seen him in days. He was busy dissolving his company, selling off assets, and paying his employees their final wages and severance. As for me, he didn’t even see me one last time. He just sent a text. “I don’t have any money left to give you a breakup fee.” “The gifts I gave you before were all freely given.” “You can go.” I was so devastated by the news that I fell into a deep sleep for 15 hours. When I woke up, a System appeared in my head. It told me this was a novel world, Jasper was the gloomy villain, and I was a plot-device canary meant to push the story forward. “Right now! This very second!” the System declared with passionate fervor. “You need to act like a gold-digger, slap Jasper across the face a few times, call him a useless pauper, and dump him to ignite his fighting spirit!” “Only then can he rise from the ashes, reunite with his childhood sweetheart—the female lead—who now has the male lead by her side, and kick off a 200-chapter-long angsty love triangle…” I covered my ears. “No.” Slapping him, yelling at him… it all sounded exhausting. The System threatened, “As a plot device, your mission is to advance the story. If you fail, you will be punished with electric shocks.” With all my strength, I rolled over in bed. “Go on then. Shock me.” “…” It was completely stumped. Come on. I might be lazy, but I’m not stupid. If I actually listened to the System’s garbage advice and ground Jasper’s pride into the dirt, knowing his personality, the moment he got back on his feet, he’d chop me into a million pieces. 3 Three days later, I finally went to find Jasper. The fallen prince had traded his glamorous penthouse in the financial district for a cramped, sunless apartment in the guts of the city, where the buildings were so close they could touch. Stubble darkened his jaw, and he was slumped on the floor, surrounded by a decadence of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor. He saw me and laughed at himself. “Didn’t you leave? What are you doing back here? Did you miss some valuables on your first pass?” I shook my head and handed him a bank card. “While you were gone, I contacted some secondhand luxury resellers. This money should help with your debt.” Jasper had always been a generous provider. When he was at the top, he’d bought me so much from various luxury and jewelry brands that I became a VIC at all of them. Every time a new or limited-edition item was released, they would send someone to deliver it to me. My room was overflowing with clothes, bags, watches, and jewelry. His voice trembled, his eyes wide with disbelief. “All that stuff… you barely even bothered to unbox most of it. You sold it all?!” Uh… Well, actually, I was just too lazy to unbox it. But because everything was brand new, I got a much better price. If he wanted to think of it that way, though, that was fine. I was too lazy to correct him. Just then, my stomach rumbled. To cover my embarrassment, I quickly added in a small voice, “I don’t eat much. I won’t be a burden. Please don’t make me leave…” After all, a boss and benefactor as good as him was a rare find. He sniffled. “Okay.” We went downstairs to a grimy little diner and bought a ten-dollar takeout box with one meat and two vegetable dishes. He pushed it in front of me while he pulled out a plain bun and some pickles for himself. “See this? I’m a useless pauper now. If you stay with me, this is your future. A life of hardship, eating cheap, crappy food.” I was unbothered. “What’s wrong with this food?” I pointed at each dish. “Look, you’ve got carbs, protein, and dietary fiber. It’s so well-balanced! And it’s only ten bucks, and there are even pork ribs in here. Is the owner running a charity?” I broke apart my chopsticks and gave him most of the ribs. Since I spent most of my days lying down, my energy consumption was low, and I didn’t eat much anyway. His eyes grew even redder. “Are you really okay with this? When you were with me, you used to eat…” Yes, back then, every meal was prepared by a private Michelin-star chef. Cantonese, Sichuan, Huaiyang, Western, Japanese, Thai… an endless variety of cuisines featuring lobster, sea cucumber, and king crab. But so what? I was too lazy to chew any of it. I just threw everything into a blender and drank it as a paste. That wasn’t an option anymore. The blender, along with the penthouse, had been repossessed by the bank. I savored the sweet and sour pork ribs. Hmm, much tastier than the paste. Meeting my clear, untroubled gaze, Jasper sighed and started rambling again. “Forget it. I spoiled you too much. You don’t know what real hardship is. You’ll understand in time. Your youth is precious; it’s not worth wasting on me. If you regret this, you can leave anytime. I won’t touch a cent of the money on that card. This bankruptcy is my failure, it has nothing to do with you. I’ll handle all the debt myself…” His words felt like a tightening headband on my head. The old Jasper was cool, gloomy, and a man of few words. This new Jasper was like a worried father. I patted his head, interrupting his spell. “Okay, stop. Aren’t you tired from talking so much? You have dark circles under your eyes. You haven’t been sleeping well again, have you? Come on, let’s get some sleep.” I got up and opened my suitcase. Before the bank sealed the apartment, they let me take a few personal items. I thought about it and chose my pillow and comforter. No matter how hard or exhausting life gets, a good night’s sleep gives you the strength to keep going. The bed was soft and warm. Lying down felt like being held by a cloud. For the first time, Jasper didn’t hold me. He turned his back to me, his shoulders shaking as he muffled his sobs. Just as I was drifting off, he kissed the top of my head. “Lila, I swear I’ll give you a good life again.” 4 After that day, Jasper’s confidence returned. He worked three jobs a day, running himself ragged. He spent his days in sales, his evenings writing business plans for college students, and then did a couple of food delivery runs before calling it a night. In his words, if he didn’t work harder, he was afraid I’d starve. Sigh. I, too, was trying to figure out how to make money while lying down. After a bit of research, I got sleepy again. Well, first things first. Time for a nap. But just as I was about to crawl into bed, an idea struck me. I set up my phone and started a livestream of myself sleeping. I yawned, and within minutes, I was in a deep sleep. A random viewer stumbled into my stream, assuming it was a gimmick. They thought if they sent a gift, I’d wake up and say thank you. So they sent a small heart sticker. Nothing happened. I was dead to the world, completely unaware. Unconvinced, they sent a sunglasses sticker. Still no response. Their stubbornness was now fully activated. They started spamming gifts, determined to see when I would finally wake up. Rainbows, paper planes, hot air balloons… The higher the gift value, the more the platform promoted the stream. More and more viewers poured in to watch me sleep. The comments started flying. “WTF, this streamer is so arrogant. How much do you have to spend to get her to wake up?” “What’s so interesting about watching someone sleep? Why are there so many people here? I’m out.” “But she looks like she’s sleeping so peacefully. I’m jealous of that sleep quality.” “That bedding looks really comfy. Anyone have a link?” “Link for the pajamas, please.” “+1” … When I finally woke up, I had earned a hundred dollars in gifts. I also had a collaboration request from a pajama company that wanted to feature a product link in my stream. I was thrilled! With this income, Jasper wouldn’t have to work so hard delivering food. I was about to call him to share the good news when a voice echoed in my head. The long-lost System was back. The last time we’d spoken, it had called Jasper a loser and me a loser pro-max. After realizing its insults had no effect on me, it had left me alone in a huff. But this time, it wasn’t scolding me. It sounded ecstatic.

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On the fifth anniversary of our wedding, a video of me proposing to my husband went viral. I thought it would be filled with blessings, but the top-rated comment was this: [Your boyfriend didn’t look at you first. If I’m not mistaken, the girl he used to have a thing with was also at that dinner.] [All of his friends were looking at her, which means they all knew about them.] [When you put the ring on him, he wasn’t excited. He looked like he was just playing along. He doesn’t love you!] I wasn’t angry. I was actually impressed by the internet’s wild imagination. The person sitting there was my best friend, Sophie—who was also my husband’s adopted sister. She had helped me plan the entire relationship, from our first date to the proposal. Their relationship had always been one of polite, distant siblings. How could there possibly be anything between them? The internet was just being paranoid. I shrugged it off, set the video to private, and got up to start dinner. Just then, the door opened. My husband, Declan, walked in, flakes of snow melting on his coat, his face etched with exhaustion as he unwrapped his scarf. “Let’s get a divorce,” he said. “I have never loved you.” … “I think we need to talk.” Declan’s voice was heavy with fatigue. He didn’t pull me into his usual warm embrace. Instead, he sat on the sofa with his back to me, a solitary figure in the dimming light. Maybe it was the video, or maybe it was just how strangely distant he was, but a cold dread washed over me. I tried desperately to stop what was coming. “It’s our fifth anniversary. Can’t this wait until tomorrow? I… Oh, I love this cake. Do you want to try some?” “Cake?” Declan’s gaze shifted to the dining table, and then to my tear-filled eyes. He paused, letting out a soft sigh. “My secretary sent that over on her own. I’m sorry. I don’t like sweets.” We had been together for nine years—four dating, five married. He had never once missed a gift or a surprise for an anniversary or holiday. This time had been no different. I had mentioned a famous cake offhandedly two days ago, and he had spent a fortune to have it flown in, custom-made by a five-star Michelin chef. Just moments before he walked in, I had snapped a photo of the half-eaten Black Swan cake and pinned it to the top of the video’s comment section: [Thanks for the concern, everyone. We’ve been married for five years and are very happy!] Now, Declan’s words were a slap across my face, sharp and stinging. I stood frozen, my head bowed in silence. After a long moment, he came to me, pulling me into a gentle hug. But the fingers he used to wipe away my tears were colder than the tears themselves. “Annalise,” he murmured, “I think we should separate.” “Why?” I choked out. “Did you cheat on me?” “No,” he said, his voice flat. “I just don’t love you. I tried.” That single sentence drained all the strength from my body. I didn’t understand. How could this be happening? We never fought, there was no infidelity, everything was perfect. How could the love just be gone? The door was still ajar, but the vast apartment suddenly felt empty, with only me inside. Perhaps it was the two bold, red exclamation marks next to his contact, but I found myself opening the video again, my actions mechanical. Declan and I were each other’s first love. After four years, I decided to be the one to propose. My best friend, his stepsister Sophie, was the only one in on the secret. That day, I was so nervous I kept messing up my lines, my hands shaking so badly as I held out the ring. I closed my eyes, waiting. A warm hand gently took the ring from me. “Yes,” he said. The room erupted in cheers and congratulations. In that moment, I was the happiest person in the world. But now, I watched it again, frame by excruciating frame. And I saw it. The first person Declan looked at was not me. There was no surprise in his eyes, only a mixture of pain and longing that I couldn’t comprehend. That slight hesitation before he said yes—it was a silent plea directed at Sophie. The realization made it hard to breathe. The two people I trusted most in the world had a secret history I knew nothing about. But it couldn’t be true. The breakfasts he made me every morning, the way he stayed by my side when I had a fever, his gentle restraint during our intimate moments, the way he shielded me with his own body during a car crash—none of that could have been fake. I refused to believe that after nine years together, he didn’t love me at all. And I refused to believe that Sophie, who despised injustice, would ever get involved with my husband. Sophie arrived right on time. She was wearing her usual white pleated skirt, looking like a little angel. I cut straight to the point. “Declan wants to divorce me. He’s in love with you.” Sophie shot to her feet, her face flushing with anger. “What son of a bitch is spreading these lies? Declan is my brother! How could he possibly be in love with me? And you, Annalise! We’re closer than sisters. How could you suspect me?” Her outrage seemed genuine. I would have believed her, if not for the necklace she was wearing—a perfect match to my own. Declan had given it to me for my birthday last year, a one-of-a-kind piece meant for the love of his life. I cherished it, rarely ever taking it off. When the plating started to chip, I had even complained about the poor quality of the luxury brand. But now, the diamond on Sophie’s neck sparkled, flawless and new. The original was on the one he truly loved. But they were siblings. And Sophie had been married for years! “Sophie,” I whispered, “please, just make him give up on you. I’m begging you.” Sophie looked lost, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hide it from you…” She gave a choked, tearful laugh. “Annalise, you have no idea what Declan was like in high school. He was horrible. He refused to even acknowledge me as his sister. He led the others in bullying me, pouring cold water on me in the winter, locking me in classrooms, cutting my hair. I fought back, I stood up to him, but… I don’t know how it happened, but I fell in love with him. He changed later, he became so gentle, but with our family situation… how could we ever be together?” I sat there, stunned, listening to this portrait of a man I didn’t know. So Declan wasn’t naturally caring. He wasn’t born gentle. He had once been filled with so much rage and malice. Sophie apologized over and over, even slapping her own face in despair. Finally, she grabbed my hands, her grip tight. “Believe me, after college, I let it all go. I would never hurt you, Annalise.” Of course, I believed her. When we were twelve, she had shielded me with her own body, protecting me from my father’s drunken rage. I would have been beaten to death without her. I heard myself say, “Sophie, you’ve been divorced for two years. Let me set you up with someone.” “Okay,” she said, forcing a smile through her tears. “Whatever you say.” She ruffled my hair like she used to, but her eyes were filled with a deep, bitter sadness. “I’ll talk to my brother. I won’t let him divorce you.” Just when I thought things might be okay, Declan burst into my bedroom that night. He was like a different person, his eyes bloodshot with fury. “You just can’t leave Sophie alone, can you?” he snarled. “She finally escapes the shadow of that bastard ex-husband, and you immediately try to push her into another pit of fire! If I hadn’t gotten there in time, she would have been assaulted! How can you be so venomous?” His voice was thick with a mixture of fear and hatred. A tearing pain shot through my scalp. “Declan,” I screamed, “Sophie is my best friend! Why would I ever try to hurt her?” It was like he couldn’t hear me. He dragged me forcefully through the house. I stumbled, and he threw me into a dark, hidden room. On a rack were blood-stained whips and ropes. “What is it you love about me? My gentleness? My thoughtfulness?” he sneered. “That was all an act. After I had to leave Sophie, I developed a severe sex addiction. I could never get enough with you. I had to torture myself, then put on the mask of a good husband.” I never knew this room existed. It was like another side of Declan I had never seen. A chill ran down my spine. He laughed, a crazed, unhinged sound. “See, Annalise? You’re afraid of the real me too.” “I love you, so what? The man you love is a lie.” Annalise could be afraid of anyone in the world. Anyone except Declan. From a young age, I was the illegitimate child of a prostitute. After my mother’s looks faded, she forged a paternity test and found me a “father.” A couple of years later, she ran off. The man would take his anger out on me whenever he was drunk. When he was broke, he’d force me to play “games” with the old drunks in the village for cigarettes and liquor. In my world, all men were scum. But Declan was different. He was restrained and respectful. When I was afraid of intimacy, he waited a whole year for me, his touch never crossing the line. Even after I finally overcame my trauma, he was always mindful of my feelings, stopping even in the heat of the moment if I so much as frowned. I never imagined he had been in so much pain. Staring at our wedding photo in the bedroom, my mind went back to that dark room. “I’m not afraid,” I had said. His only response had been to flee. If Declan could save me, why couldn’t I save him? I slowly unbuttoned my clothes and changed into a sexy “battle outfit” I’d bought online. I buried myself under the covers, my mind racing with possibilities. Things that once felt shameful now felt like a sacrifice I was willing to make. BANG! The door to another apartment was thrown open. Heavy breathing and moans filled the darkness as a man and a woman moved with wild, reckless abandon. “Brother, I told you last time was the last time. Why did you come looking for me again? Annalise almost found out this time! You know she’s the most important person in my life!” “Annalise has no one but you and me. She won’t agree to a divorce. This is your punishment for trying to end things.” The man’s voice was low and hoarse, filled with a chilling certainty. The woman sobbed, a hint of resentment in her tone. “Annalise loves you so much. You shouldn’t hurt her like this.” “Hah!” Declan’s voice turned vicious. “You’re the one who shamelessly seduced me first. Why should I accept you pushing me onto someone else? I’m telling you, Sophie, if you dare try to marry someone else to hide from me again, I won’t mind crippling another man. I mean it. As for Annalise, if she wants a divorce, I’ll give her a generous settlement. If not, I can afford to keep her. That’s benevolent enough.”

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My best friend Zoe was addicted to gambling. When she called, giddy, saying she was taking me to Vegas, I didn’t think much of it. “I just hit a huge jackpot!” she chirped. “I’m putting you up at The Elysian Palace, on me!” But when the plane landed, she didn’t lead me to a luxury suite. Instead, she took me to a private room deep in the casino. “The truth is,” she whispered, trembling, “I owe fifty million. If I can’t pay, they’ll send me to a black site in Eastern Europe…” Her eyes were wild. “But the owner… he’s looking for a woman with a crescent moon birthmark. Find her, and the debt’s wiped clean!” She grabbed my arm. “You’ve got one, right on your stomach. I’ve seen it when we changed! I’m so sorry, Aria. I just… I don’t want to die.” Four men slammed me onto the sofa. As my head spun, I saw a child’s drawing on the wall. It was a crayon picture I’d drawn for my dad before I was taken. He’d treasured it, promising to keep it forever. A strange energy surged through me, and a cold smile touched my lips. Zoe, oh Zoe. You really did make the right bet this time. Too bad you’re not the one who’s going to win. 1 By the time I realized something was truly wrong, it was too late to run. “Fifty million, Aria! I could never pay that back in ten lifetimes!” Zoe sobbed. “But it’s like fate intervened! The heavens gave you that birthmark so you could save me!” Ice filled my lungs. Fear squeezed my throat until I forgot how to breathe. “Zoe… you sold me?” “We’ve known each other for over a decade. You’re my best friend, and you sold me for fifty million dollars?” My accusation made her stumble back, shaking her head frantically. “Don’t look at me like that… The owner of this casino is richer than God, and his only weakness is women with that specific birthmark. He’ll forgive any debt for one…” She tried to force a smile. “He has this… particular taste, and you happen to match it perfectly. I brought you here for your own good, too! What if he falls for you? You’d be set for life!” The image of some lecherous old man flashed in my mind, and a shiver ran down my spine. I shoved her aside and made a break for the door. “If you want to be his prize, go for it! I’m leaving!” But before my fingers could even brush the doorknob, a heavy thud slammed into the back of my head. “You’re forcing my hand, Aria!” Zoe’s voice was sharp with panic. My vision exploded into stars. I staggered, my legs giving out from under me, and collapsed to the floor. She loomed over me and snatched the small, pink bead from my pocket. “Don’t think I’m stupid,” she hissed. “I know you didn’t come on this trip for a vacation. You came here to find your real parents.” “Well, you’re here now. Help me clear this debt, and I’ll help you find them. But if you try to run… you’ll never see them again in this life.” A searing pain radiated from the back of my skull. I tried to move my lips, to say something, but despair washed over me. I was five when I was kidnapped. The traffickers had changed my clothes and shaved my head to make me unrecognizable. They threw away everything I had, but I’d managed to hide this single bead under my tongue—the one carved with my nickname. For sixteen years, the memories of my home and my life before the age of five had faded into a blur. That bead was the only tangible link I had left to my parents. Without it, all hope was gone. “Good girl,” Zoe said, sounding relieved. Just then, the door to the room swung open. Several menacing men strode in. “You’re Zoe? We hear you brought something to settle your account.” Zoe scrambled to her feet, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Nash! The boss wants a woman with a crescent moon birthmark, right? This is my best friend, Aria. She has one right on her stomach!” She wrung her hands. “I brought her, just like you said. So, my fifty million…” The man she called Nash didn’t even glance at her. He pulled out a chair and sat down, his presence dominating the room. “What’s the hurry? Let’s see the merchandise first.” His men were on me in an instant, dragging me up and pinning me to the sofa. They ripped off my jacket in a blur of motion. One of them reached for the hem of my t-shirt, and I kicked out with all my strength, connecting with his shin. “Get off me! Don’t touch me!” “You little bitch!” he spat, and his hand cracked across my face once, then twice. My head spun, stars bursting behind my eyes. Before I could even cry out, a deafening gunshot echoed through the room. The man clutching my shirt screamed, a new hole bleeding in his calf as he crumpled to the ground. Nash stood over him, a pistol in his hand, his expression unreadable. “Touching the goods before verification? You got a death wish?” He gestured dismissively. “Get him out of here. Don’t stain the boss’s rug.” The other men, their faces pale, quickly dragged their groaning colleague away. I was free, but my body was frozen, paralyzed by shock. They had a gun. If I fought back again, the next bullet would be for me. In the corner, Zoe was terrified, but a new, determined glint appeared in her eyes. “Nash, she really has it! A crescent moon birthmark, right on her stomach. It’s exactly the kind the boss wants!” Nash shot her a cold look, and she immediately flinched, lowering her head. “You lot, get it done. Stop wasting my time.” Four more men moved toward me. I scrambled backward on the sofa, trying to put distance between us, when my gaze fell again on the child’s drawing hanging on the wall. It depicted a family of three flying a kite. Right above the head of the little girl with the ponytail, a name was written—a name I could never forget. “Sunshine.” I had drawn that picture right before I was taken. My mother had adored it, and my father had laughed, promising to frame it and keep it forever. It was him! My dad! All these years, he had been looking for me, too! An overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over me, and I pushed myself up. “Is your boss’s name—” “Too many questions. You’re probably another fake with a bright idea.” Nash cut me off, his voice dripping with impatience. He raised his gun, the cold metal aimed squarely at my forehead. “You, shut up.” He nodded to his men. “You, get her shirt off. Verify it.” 2 A cold dread washed over me, prickling my scalp. He’d shot one of his own men without a second thought. What would he do to me? Zoe, trembling in the corner, whispered urgently, “Aria, just do what they say! Once they see it, I can leave. If you keep fighting, you’ll get us both killed!” Even now, she was only thinking of herself. My eyes darted back to the drawing on the wall. I decided to play along, for now. If they verified the mark, maybe Dad would come. Maybe this nightmare would end, and we could finally be reunited. Biting my lip, I endured the humiliation as they lifted my shirt. There, just below my navel, the crescent moon birthmark was clear as day. “Nash, I think… I think this one’s real!” one of the men exclaimed. Nash strode over. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the mark. He muttered under his breath, “It’s… it really is just like the one the boss drew.” Zoe knew she was in the clear. A sycophantic smile spread across her face. “Nash, sir, since you’ve verified it, that fifty million I owe…” Nash’s eyes were still locked on my birthmark. He waved a dismissive hand. “Cleared. Now get lost.” “Yes, yes! Thank you! I’m gone!” Zoe nodded eagerly and turned to bolt. But the bead was still on her! I scrambled off the sofa, lunging for her. “Zoe, you can’t leave—” “Don’t let her get away!” Nash commanded. Before I could reach Zoe, one of the henchmen closest to me drove his boot into my stomach. The force of the kick sent me flying backward, and my head cracked against the corner of the coffee table. Nash exploded. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? How many times have I said, don’t harm them before confirmation!” The spot where Zoe had hit me was already throbbing, and now, a warm liquid was trickling down my neck. I reached up a trembling hand and brought it back, covered in blood. My vision began to blur at the edges. My consciousness was slipping away, my limbs refusing to obey my commands. I can’t pass out… not yet… I haven’t seen Dad… “Boss, she’s bleeding!” someone shouted in alarm. Nash’s brow furrowed. “You two, get a doctor! You two, go get the boss. Tell him this one looks real, he needs to see it for himself.” He looked at the remaining men. “The rest of you, be careful. If she turns out to be the one he’s looking for and you pissed her off, she’ll have your heads.” His men scattered, nearly running into Zoe, who was frozen by the door. She was completely stunned. After a long moment, she asked in a trembling voice, “Nash… I thought the boss was just looking for a new mistress. Why is one woman so important?” Nash shot her a withering glare. “Use your head. Why else would he offer to wipe out a debt this massive? But it’s not a debt just anyone can clear.” His voice dropped, laced with menace. “Others have brought women with crescent moon birthmarks before. They tattooed one on, guessing at the location. The boss… dealt with them.” Zoe shuddered. “You got lucky,” Nash continued. “This girl’s mark is in the exact right spot. Perfect. Now just wait. If she really is the one, not only will your fifty million be forgotten, but your best friend here will make sure you live a life of luxury.” Zoe’s eyes darted back and forth. Her expression shifted. A terrible feeling washed over me. I fought through the haze, forcing my mouth to form words. “I… I am the one…” “Nash, I’m so sorry!” Zoe suddenly cried out, rushing back into the room. She dug her sharp nails into my thigh, her voice a desperate shriek. “The birthmark… it’s a fake!” “I can’t lie to the boss! I’ll pay back the fifty million myself! I’m not using her to clear my debt!” 3 Nash’s face contorted with fury. “Zoe, you’re playing with your life!” “No! She forced me to come here!” The gun swung toward her, and Zoe dropped to her knees in a heap. “She found out about the birthmark’s location from somewhere, went to a tattoo parlor, and then forced me to bring her! She said she wanted to climb into the boss’s bed and live a life of luxury! It’s true! She threatened to kill my parents if I didn’t do it!” Zoe’s face was a mess of tears and pleas as she begged for her life. From the floor, I gasped for breath, shaking my head weakly. “No… I’m…” “Stop lying, Aria!” Zoe sobbed. “You can’t fool them forever! When the boss finds out your birthmark is a fake, you’ll die a much more painful death!” Nash stood over me, his sharp gaze fixed on the exposed birthmark, trying to discern the truth. But he clearly didn’t know the whole story—that his boss wasn’t looking for a lover, but a lost daughter. If he would just look at my face, he might see the resemblance… Suddenly, a voice called from outside. “Nash, that crew from last time is causing trouble on the main floor again!” Nash holstered his pistol and started for the door. “You two, guard the entrance. Don’t let either of them leave. I’ll be right back.” The heavy door clicked shut, leaving just the two of us. Zoe’s voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “I can’t believe how obsessed he is. The right birthmark, and you get to be the queen of this place.” I struggled to stay conscious, my body sliding further down the leg of the table. The bleeding from my head wouldn’t stop. I knew I didn’t have much time. “What… what are you doing?” I managed to ask. A crazed look flashed in her eyes, her chest heaving with frantic breaths. “I was wrong. I thought he just wanted a fling, someone to warm his bed… But no. I can’t let you become his woman. You’d never let me live it down… just like I would never forgive you.” I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. “We’re best friends. If you let me go now, I’ll forget this ever happened.” “Impossible! You must hate my guts!” “No, really… Think about it. Without me, how will you pay back that fifty million? They’ll sell you, Zoe. It’ll be worse than death.” She paused, her eyes darting around as she considered it. Seeing a flicker of hope, I pressed on. “Let me go. I swear I won’t say a word. I’ll take care of you, we’ll be rich together. That fifty million… I’ll pay it for you.” Her expression softened for a moment. She licked her dry lips. I allowed myself a small, internal sigh of relief. But it was premature. Her fists clenched. “No. You’re too stubborn. You’ve spent over a decade searching for your parents without giving up. You’d never let this go. I can find another way to get fifty million, but I can’t leave you alive.” Before I could react, she produced a small, sharp blade and drove it right into my birthmark. A scream tore from my throat, but she clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling the sound. She traced the outline of the crescent moon with the blade, then pulled out a small vial of clear liquid and forced it down my throat. A bitter taste flooded my mouth. This was bad. “Don’t worry,” she whispered manically in my ear. “This anesthetic will kick in in about twenty minutes. You’ll pass out. Whatever happens next, you won’t feel a thing.” She tossed the empty vial and the blade under the table. “I’m sorry, sis. If only one of us can walk out of here alive, it’s going to be me.”

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The day of Ashton Blackwood’s engagement party was a who’s who of the city’s elite. He was on the sofa with his fiancée, opening gifts, when the young woman let out a small, delicate “huh?” “Who sent this? A broken doll? Are they sick or something?” His friends craned their necks to see, then snickered. “Oh, that must be from Lily. Why’s it broken, though? You’ve gotta give her points for persistence. Pining after Ashton for seven years and she still hasn’t given up.” “She’s probably off crying in a corner somewhere right now.” They were all laughing at me. Only Ashton, sitting in the center of it all, felt his cigarette tremble, scattering a fine layer of ash on the marble floor. Because he suddenly remembered what I’d once told him. “I’ll keep this doll with me my entire life. Unless…” He had laughed then. “Unless what?” “Unless I stop loving you.” 1. I left the Blackwood villa and hailed a cab straight to the airport. The driver, with a thick New York accent, glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You comin’ from the Blackwood kid’s engagement party, huh?” See? Ashton Blackwood’s name was that famous. Anyone who heard it could share a bit of gossip. “Heard he used to have a new girlfriend every week. Total player.” “Wasn’t he just in the tabloids with some starlet last month? You think he’s really ready to settle down? Bet it’s just for show. He’ll still have other women after the wedding.” I managed a small smile. “You’re right.” For a man of his stature, that kind of gossip wasn’t exactly a good look. In the past, I would have probably argued with the driver. I would have said that not every woman photographed with him was his girlfriend; some were just friends of friends. Or I would have insisted that he was truly in love with Isabelle, that he genuinely wanted to marry her. And for the rest of his long life, Ashton Blackwood would love Isabelle, and only Isabelle. Thinking this, I looked down at my phone. A new post popped up on my Instagram feed. It was a group photo from the party. 【Congrats to the happy couple! To a hundred years of happiness!】 A flood of comments followed. 【His fiancée is gorgeous. No wonder Ashton waited five years for her.】 … 【Yeah, I’m here now, they’re so sweet together.】 Just then, a text message came through. It was from Jack, Ashton’s best friend. 【Where are you? We were taking a group pic and couldn’t find you. Ash is pissed.】 I had only been at the engagement party for five minutes. Just long enough to drop off my gift and leave. I typed back. 【Something came up. I already left.】 A moment later, he replied. 【Why didn’t you say anything? Ashton would’ve had someone drive you.】 He had already given me so much. He’d paid for my education, my dance lessons, for anything I ever wanted to do. But the place I was going this time was too far. It was better this way. 2. I turned off my screen and didn’t reply. When I looked up, we were at a red light. The driver idly glanced out at a skyscraper. As if on cue, the massive screen on its facade was displaying an ad featuring the very same starlet he’d just mentioned. The driver clicked his tongue. “So, what’s your connection to the Blackwoods, kid? Be honest, you’re not another one of his exes, are you? I’ve already driven three of ’em over there today.” A bitter smile touched my lips. “No.” “I’m his stepsister.” He had countless flames, a life defined by romance. But whenever people talked about him, beyond the string of lovers, there was one other person they always mentioned: his stepsister. They always framed it as a story of his benevolence. The media had covered it years ago: after Ashton Blackwood’s stepmother passed away, he ignored the protests of his entire family and insisted on keeping the “charity case” she had brought with her into the marriage. I was only fifteen then. The Blackwood elders wanted to send me back to my hometown, but Ashton was the only one who refused. “Her deadbeat dad doesn’t even want her,” he had argued. “She has no one back there. You want to send her back to starve?” A soft sigh escaped me. If he had sent me away back then, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up like this. We arrived at the airport shortly after. With an hour and a half until boarding, I found a seat in the departure lounge. I scrolled through my phone for a bit, and before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, my phone was lit up with an endless stream of missed calls. Friends, classmates, people from Ashton’s circle. Even some of the Blackwood elders. And at the very top of the list: Ashton. He had called twenty-eight times. He’d nearly drained my battery. I was still trying to process it when I opened my messages and saw two from him, sent just a minute ago. The first was a photo. It was of me, in the airport lounge. I was wearing a cream-colored dress, leaning back in the chair and looking at my phone, my long hair spilling over my shoulders. Outside the window, the ground was a carpet of red maple leaves. The second message was a voice note. His voice was rough, laced with a barely-there thread of fury. “Lily, turn around.” 3. The lounge was bustling with people. I looked up and saw him standing not far away. I pressed my lips together. “What are you doing here?” He gave a harsh tug at the corner of his mouth but said nothing. In the next second, he was striding toward me. He snatched the suitcase from my hand, his voice cold and hard. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home.” “You can go on a trip any other time. Did you have to pick today? Do you have any respect for me at all?” He didn’t mention the doll. It was as if he hadn’t even opened the gifts yet. But I’d already seen the message from Jack. He’d said: 【You gotta tell me what that doll was about. Ash saw it and completely lost his shit… Where are you?】 I reached for my suitcase. “I’m not going back.” He let out a cold laugh, his grip tightening on my wrist as he started pulling me toward the exit. “You’re my sister. If I don’t look after you, who will? You want to go to Australia? Fine. I’ll take you when I have time.” I shook my head, looking at him seriously. “No. I don’t need you to take me. I want to go by myself.” I repeated myself, for emphasis. “I don’t need anyone to go with me.” In the past, whenever he went on trips with his girlfriends, he would insist on dragging me along, saying he was worried I’d be lonely. He was considerate, though; to avoid making it awkward, he’d always invite Jack to keep me company. That was how Jack and I got to know each other. One time, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Lily,” he’d complained, “come on. Ashton has a girlfriend now. It’s not right for you to be so clingy. I know you like him, but it’s been years. It’s time to let it go. I don’t even have time for my own girlfriend because I’m always out here babysitting you. It’s depressing.” In that moment, I wished the ground would swallow me whole. I couldn’t explain that it was Ashton who made me come, because I had my own selfish reasons for wanting to be near him. I used to think that all those other girls were just flings. That one day, he might turn around and finally see me. After all, I had never seen him be particularly intimate with any of them. Until two weeks ago, when Isabelle came back. Ashton never asked me to come along again. He started coming home with lipstick marks on his collar. Not long after, they were engaged. Only then did I finally understand. His years of playing the field were all because of his first love, Isabelle. Ever since she had left, every girlfriend he’d had possessed at least one feature that resembled hers. 4. But Ashton still dragged me out of the airport. “I can make sure this flight never takes off,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you really want to test me?” “Besides,” he added, his tone softening slightly, “have you even touched your own face? You’re burning up. You have a fever, Lily.” Once we were in the car, I realized Jack was there too. He was in the driver’s seat, smoking. When he saw me, he quickly stubbed out the cigarette. “Whoa,” he said. “What’s going on here?” Ashton didn’t waste any time. “To the hospital.” The moment I got in the car, I closed my eyes and said nothing. Jack glanced at me in the rearview mirror, hesitated, and then called my name. I heard him, but I was too exhausted to respond. He seemed to take that as a cue, letting out a sigh of relief. “Jesus, Ash,” he said, “you really lost it this time.” “Do you have any idea how many reporters and media outlets were at that party? Do you know how many powerful people from business and politics were there?” Ashton’s voice was flat. “I know.” “The party’s not even over. Isabelle is still waiting for you. If you go back now, it’s not too late.” I wanted to say something, but my mouth wouldn’t open. And then, everything went black. When I woke up again, Ashton was standing by the window of the hospital room, his back to me, on the phone. I couldn’t hear the other side, but I heard his response: “We’ll postpone it for now. Just cancel it.” It took me a moment to realize he was talking about the engagement party. I sat up, my voice hoarse. “You should go back. Thank you for today.” Hearing my voice, Ashton turned around. He walked over to my bed and stood over me, his gaze dark and unreadable. “Do you really…” he started to ask. Those three words made my heart leap into my throat. Shamefully, my mind automatically finished his sentence: Do you really not have feelings for me anymore? But before he could finish, a soft voice came from the doorway. “Ashton.” It was just his name, but the way she said it was filled with an indescribable charm. Ashton’s expression shifted, and he looked away from me. He turned to her. “I’m sorry.” 5. Isabelle walked into the room with a gentle smile. “It’s okay.” “Your sister is my sister now, too. She was in a car accident. That’s a big deal. How could I possibly blame you?” It finally clicked. So that was the story Ashton was telling people. His sister was in a car accident, forcing him to leave his own engagement party. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. It was also obvious that Isabelle knew it was a lie, but she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she turned to me with a kind smile. “Lily, you’re about the right age. Have you thought about finding a boyfriend?” I was about to shake my head. But then I saw Ashton, standing beside her, clutching his phone so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Oh… Knowing him, he probably wanted me to find a boyfriend too. That way, there would be no chance of me ever getting in their way again. He had taken care of me for so many years. No matter what, I owed him. Maybe it was time to give him what he wanted. And to finally let myself go. “I’ve been thinking about it,” I said. The words had barely left my lips when Ashton’s head snapped up. He stared at me, completely still. Isabelle smiled, her gaze shifting to Ashton. She walked over, looped her arm through his, and said playfully, “You’re not doing a very good job as a big brother. You should be helping her out with that, you know.” Ashton was silent for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice deep and cold. “Right. I’ll get right on that.” He shot me one last, expressionless look, then gently removed Isabelle’s hand from his arm and walked out of the room. For a split second, Isabelle’s face went cold. She gave me a long, meaningful glance, said nothing, and followed him out. 6. To make sure I rested, Ashton confiscated my phone for the two days I was in the hospital. He also forbade anyone from visiting me. I only got my phone back the day I was discharged. The number of notifications was staggering. I answered a few messages from friends, and then my eyes fell on one at the very bottom of the list. There was no name saved, just a single letter as the username: q. 【Hey, where’d you go? I waited at the airport but didn’t see you.】 He was an online friend I’d met on a forum two years ago. He was witty, insightful, and had moved to Australia for school a few years back. When he found out I was planning to join a dance company there, he had been a huge help. As I was about to reply, the “is typing…” bubble appeared. A moment later, a new message popped up. 【Couldn’t get a hold of you. I just finished up with my school stuff and I’m back in the city. Want to meet up?】 I typed back quickly. 【Yeah, definitely! Sorry about before, something came up.】 He replied almost instantly. 【No worries. You’re okay, right?】 I told him I was fine. He seemed relieved and sent a voice note. “Good to hear. See you soon, then?” 【Yep.】 After I replied, I looked over at Ashton’s back. He was bent over, packing my things. He had barely left my side for the past two days. He looked exhausted. But ever since that day in the hospital, we had hardly spoken. It used to be me, racking my brain for something to talk about. Now, I wasn’t initiating anymore. And whenever he spoke, my replies were short and to the point. We had run out of things to say to each other. I thought for a moment, then spoke. “Ashton.” He froze, and for a split second, I heard a flicker of something almost like hope in his voice. “What is it?” I looked up at him, my own voice calm and steady. “I can put off going abroad for now. But I want to move out of the Blackwood house.” 7. I’d brought it up many times before, but Ashton had never agreed. Back then, I was in love with him, so I had always let it go and stayed. But now, he had a fiancée. It wasn’t right for me to be living under his roof anymore. I thought, given how much he loved Isabelle, he would surely agree this time. But to my surprise, the moment the words left my mouth, he threw the clothes he was folding onto the bed, grabbed me, and squeezed my arms, his grip painfully tight. He let out a cold, humorless laugh. He said my name. “Lily.” “How long are you going to keep this up?” I was genuinely confused. “What?” He took a deep breath, his eyes glinting with a chilling light. “I know what you’re doing. All those other women before—if you didn’t like them, I’d get rid of them. But Isabelle is different. I’ve already postponed the engagement for you. I’ve done everything a brother could possibly do. Are you really going to force my hand?” I was speechless. He was right. More than half of his past girlfriends had broken up with him because of me. He smirked, finally bringing up the doll. He leaned in close, his thumb brushing against my lips. I flinched. “What do you mean by that?” “The doll, running off to Australia, and now this talk about moving out,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “Lily, you’re too young to play these games. This whole push-and-pull thing… you don’t know how to play it. Stop this. Just be the little princess of the Blackwood family. I’ll give you anything you want.” I opened my mouth to argue, but just then, his assistant’s voice came from the doorway. “Mr. Blackwood, Miss Isabelle just called. She’d like you to come over and help choose a new date for the engagement.”

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I was getting hot water for my grandfather at the hospital when a middle-aged man shoved a bedpan in front of me. “Here,” he ordered. “Go empty this, then get some warm water so I can wash my mother.” I didn’t take it. The man grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “What, are you deaf? Is this the kind of attitude you caregivers have?” he snarled. “I’ll have you know, I can file a complaint! Get your supervisor over here! Now move it, or you can forget about getting paid today!” I finally snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted. “Did you hire me? Are you paying me to be a caregiver?” … My grandpa had a sudden stroke and was hospitalized. Since I was on my winter break from college, I’d been by his side taking care of him. “Hey! You! The caregiver! Come feed my mother!” The man in the next bed over suddenly started ordering me around. Before I could explain, he was already shouting into his phone, complaining loudly about some problem at work. I looked at the old woman in the bed. She looked so frail, so pitiful. Seeing that I had a moment, I decided to help. “Hey! Not so fast! Give her smaller bites! What if she chokes?” “Can’t you see she doesn’t want any more? Wipe her mouth, for God’s sake!” “You lazy caregivers have no sense of hygiene, do you? Are you going to wash that towel or what?” The man kept barking orders, then gave me a hard shove. The force of it nearly sent me tumbling off the stool. A hot flame of anger shot through me. “If you’re so damn picky, why don’t you do it yourself? All you do is stand there and flap your gums! I am not a caregiver!” I threw the towel right in his face. I didn’t want to cause a scene in front of my grandpa; it wouldn’t be good for his condition. I grabbed the thermos, needing to step out and cool off. But the man lunged in front of me, trying to force the foul-smelling bedpan into my hands. “Go on. Empty this, then bring back a basin of warm water to wash my mother.” I instinctively recoiled, and the bedpan nearly clattered to the floor. “Are you disabled or just an idiot? You can’t even take care of your own mother?” “How dare you talk to me like that, you worthless caregiver?” he interrupted, his voice dripping with impatience. “If my mother wasn’t sick in this hospital, I’d beat the hell out of you right now! Now hurry up, my mom’s waiting! You keep wasting my time, and I’ll report you and get your pay docked!” I almost had to laugh at his sheer, brutish arrogance. “If you don’t get out of my way, I’m calling security and reporting you for harassment.” I tried to sidle past him. The man let out a derisive snort as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, I get it now,” he sneered, his eyes crawling over me. “I was wondering why a pretty young thing like you would be taking care of some old geezer. It’s for the dirty money, isn’t it?” With that, he grabbed me again, shoving the bedpan hard against my chest. “I’ll say this one last time. Empty it! Or I’ll make sure everyone in this hospital knows you’re a gold-digging whore.” This was a brand-new, limited-edition jacket! Disgusted, I knocked the bedpan away. But I used too much force, and the contents sloshed all over me. The acrid stench hit me like a physical blow, and I nearly gagged. “Are you insane? I told you, I’m not a caregiver! You’re paying for this jacket!” “You dare yell at me?” the man’s voice boomed. “I pay good money for you caregivers to take care of patients! Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? How many old men have you scammed, huh? I’m going to find their kids and let them deal with you!” He was so close I could feel his spittle on my face, his fat finger nearly poking my nose. I felt like I was going to throw up last night’s dinner. Just as I was about to call for a doctor, he beat me to it, playing the victim. He seized my wrist, dragging me out into the hallway and bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Everyone, come and see! This is the new breed of caregiver! They prey on the elderly, trying to sleep their way into an inheritance!” Doors opened. A few patients and their families poked their heads out, their faces curious. The man’s voice grew even louder, his grip on my wrist like a vice. The Head Nurse hurried over. “What’s going on? Who’s shouting?” The man immediately pointed a triumphant finger at me. “Head Nurse, this caregiver of yours is completely out of line! I asked her to do a simple task, and not only did she refuse, she threatened to call the police on me!” The Head Nurse glanced at me, and within seconds, her brow furrowed. She shot me a look of pure disdain, as if I were some unruly teenager who’d disrespected a patient’s family. She glared at me. “Which agency are you from? Where’s your ID badge?” “I’m not a caregiver! I’m a family member!” I repeated, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I’d lost count of how many times I’d said it. “Bullshit!” the man spat. “You think saying you’re not a caregiver absolves you of all responsibility? If you weren’t a caregiver, why would you be waiting on that old man? Why would you offer to feed my mother?” He gestured wildly at me, spittle flying. Then he turned to the Head Nurse, his voice taking on a threatening tone. “If you don’t handle this today and give me a satisfactory answer, I’ll make sure this hospital’s name is dragged through the mud!” He pulled out his phone and started recording both of us. The Head Nurse panicked, immediately trying to placate him with hushed, apologetic tones. But the look she gave me was venomous. She grabbed the front of my jacket, shoving me so hard I almost fell to my knees. “You’re so young,” she hissed, her voice low and filled with contempt. “No education, so you have to work as a caregiver. And you can’t even behave yourself. I’ve seen a hundred girls just like you. I’m giving you one last chance. Apologize to him right now! If you can’t resolve this, no hospital in this city will ever hire you again!” The man gloated beside her. “You hear that? The Head Nurse has given you an order!” The onlookers were getting more agitated. “Are the standards for caregivers really this low now? Don’t they do any background checks?” “Jeez, you pay hundreds of dollars a day for a caregiver, and they have the nerve to act like this?” “She needs to be reported! Blacklisted from the entire industry!” … I was about to explode from the sheer injustice of it all. “Are you all crazy? I told you, I’m not a caregiver!” My desperate shout earned me only a moment of silence. Then, the man did something that stunned me into silence. He picked up the bedpan and smashed it over my head. The remaining foul liquid dripped down through my hair. “Still talking back, are you!” The sudden, vicious attack left me reeling. My head was ringing, my mind blank with shock and humiliation, utterly unable to formulate a response. He planted his hands on his hips and continued his tirade. “Go on, keep pretending! I’ve seen your type of caregiver before! Always trying to slack off!” “Let me tell you, if you don’t make me happy today, I’m going to stand right here and shout until everyone in this hospital knows what a disgrace you are!” The crowd was a buzz of voices, some trying to calm him down. The Head Nurse stood over me, her words a relentless pressure. But the noise around me was fading, becoming a distant, muffled roar. Just as a primal urge to hit back surged through me, a familiar figure appeared, leaning on a nurse’s arm. “Grandpa!” All the anger and humiliation vanished in an instant. I scrambled to help him. But he slapped my hand away with a look of pure disgust. “Who the hell are you?” he roared, his voice surprisingly strong. “You dare bully my granddaughter? I’ll kill you!” For a second, I just froze. The crowd erupted into a fresh wave of murmurs. Seeing my grandpa, so full of righteous fury, yet looking at me like I was a complete stranger… it hurt more than all the false accusations combined. “Grandpa, it’s me! It’s Lily!” I cried. “Right before you got sick, you promised you’d buy me candy!” I wiped my soiled hands as best I could and pulled a small, worn charm from my pocket. “Look! This is the lucky charm you got for me!” A few years ago, I’d been very sick. Grandpa had gone to the old chapel on the hill, climbing every single step on his knees to pray for this for me. But the sight of the charm only agitated him more. He snatched it from my hand, his eyes wide with anger. “You thief! You stole my granddaughter’s charm!” he yelled, pointing a trembling finger at me. “I knew you were no good! Hanging around me all day, acting so sweet! Tell me! Where did you take my granddaughter? What have you done with her?” He was so worked up that he started to sway. The medical staff quickly guided him back toward his room. “The patient’s family needs to come here immediately!” a nurse called out. I tried to follow, my heart pounding with fear, but the man grabbed me again. His face was a mask of smug satisfaction. “I told you, didn’t I?” he sneered. “A girl like you, always on the make. If you want me to keep quiet and not tell his real family about you, you’ll go back in there and take proper care of my mother.” The onlookers stared, their eyes burning with judgment and disgust. “Shameless,” their expressions screamed. My hands clenched into fists, my whole body shaking. Grandpa was old, and he’d been getting more confused lately. With the stroke, it was understandable that he might not recognize me. But his condition was serious now, and I, his family, needed to be there! I gathered all my strength and shoved the man aside. “I’ll deal with you later!” I broke into a run, desperate to get to Grandpa’s room. Suddenly, my foot caught on something, and I went flying. My knees slammed into the hard tile floor, the pain so sharp it stole my breath. The man stood over me, puffing out his chest like a victorious general. “That’ll teach you to run your mouth,” he gloated. “Thinking you can just run back and torment that old man again? Not on my watch!” To my horror, some people in the crowd actually cheered. They praised the man for his “bravery,” for “setting things right.” I felt like a monkey in a cage, humiliated and filthy, surrounded by jeering faces. That was it. I was done. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

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1 After the miscarriage, I found new ways each day to torment Sebastian. I watched the cronut—one he’d searched all over New York to find—hit the floor for the third time. A faint smile still touched Sebastian’s lips. “You know, darling,” he said lightly, “you really are a handful.” He casually picked up the ruined pastry. “Jane heard about your miscarriage. She was so worried it would upset me that she… took care of her own little situation.” He paused, letting the words land. “You both lost a child. But the moment she was out of surgery, she was back home, doing my laundry, cooking for me, charming my business partners at dinner. Sweet as a kitten.” He looked at me, something unreadable in his eyes. “Not like you, ordering me around a hundred times a day.” Sebastian ruffled my hair as if I were a child, then told his assistant to buy ten different desserts. “But,” he grinned, “that fiery spirit is exactly what I love about you.” I stood frozen, a metallic taste of blood in my throat. In that shattering moment, I finally saw how pathetic I must have looked, boasting to other corporate wives that my Sebastian would never cheat. … “Lindsay, don’t look at me like that.” Sebastian sighed, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from my forehead. “It was a business dinner. Mr. Harrison set us all up with some aspiring models. I wasn’t going to touch her, I swear. But Jane told me… she said if I didn’t take her, the next man might be some old lech, a fat slob, or worse, someone who’d hurt her.” “The girl was in a pitiful state,” he said, his voice laced with false nobility. “I just let her stay with me. It wasn’t a betrayal.” The air conditioning was set to a comfortable 72 degrees, but a violent shiver wracked my body. Tears welled in my eyes, but my smile was pure acid. “You got her pregnant, and you’re telling me it’s not a betrayal? What is it then, Sebastian? A fucking charity project? Or just you getting your kicks on the side!” The shout ripped from my lungs, and a sharp, twisting pain shot through my lower abdomen. Panic flashed across Sebastian’s face. He rushed me to the sofa and pressed a glass of warm water into my hand. “You just had a miscarriage. You need to be careful.” He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them until they were warm, then gently placed them on my stomach. A faint warmth seeped through my clothes, and for a heart-stopping second, I was transported back five years, to a winter that felt just as cold as this one. We were crammed into a shoebox apartment in the heart of the city. A hundred square feet against the glittering, merciless New York winter. Sebastian would clutch a glass of boiling water, hissing through the pain as it scalded his palms, just so he could warm my hands, my feet, my belly. No matter how brutal the winter, he kept me warm. The memory softened the hard edges of my rage. I sniffled, my resolve wavering just enough to give him a chance to explain himself. “Darling, my relationship with Jane is like… a man and his cat. I saw this poor creature, took her in, and now she’s fiercely loyal. That’s all there is to it.” He continued, his tone infuriatingly reasonable. “Jane’s a good girl. She knows her place. She even swore that if she ever got pregnant again, she’d… take care of it… unless it was a girl, so it would never threaten your position.” Sebastian shrugged, a casual, easy smile on his face. “Which works for me. I’ve always wanted a daughter. A sweet, obedient one, just like Jane.” That was his explanation. They had slept together. They had created a child together. They were already dreaming of a future daughter together. And none of that counted as betrayal. My stomach churned violently. I summoned every ounce of strength I had left and slapped him across the face. A sob caught in my throat, choking off my words. The slap was hard. A thin trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He calmly wiped it away with a handkerchief, his eyes darkening. “Lindsay, go ahead and ask any of your friends in the socialite circle. Ask them about the mistresses of other CEOs. They’re all nightmares. Some of them show up on the wife’s doorstep, others are popping out sons left and right to fight for the inheritance.” He leaned in closer. “Jane is quiet. She loves me, and she respects you. What’s so hard to accept? Get rid of her, and the next one might not be so manageable. Then you’ll really have something to cry about.” It took me a moment to process the true meaning behind his words. He was telling me that if it wasn’t Jane, it would just be someone else. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his heart had turned. “Sebastian,” I began, my voice trembling, “if you don’t love me anymore, we should just get a—” His lips crashed down on mine, silencing me. It was a deep, desperate kiss. When he finally pulled away, he was breathless. He lit a cigarette, the flame illuminating a wild, reckless smile. “We’ve been through ten years of hell and back together. How could I not love you?” He took a long drag. “Lindsay, think of it like a meal. You like a little sweet with your savory, right? I’m the same. A little bit of spice like you, and a little bit of sweetness like Jane… it keeps things from getting boring.” He said he still loved me. Cheating was just… diversifying his palate. But real love doesn’t get boring. Sebastian glanced at his watch and shrugged on his overcoat. Like nothing had happened, he leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I’ve got another dinner with Harrison tonight. You be a good girl and wait for me to come home.” He left with a spring in his step. I never used to understand why he seemed so happy to go to those “business dinners.” I always pictured them as a chore: forced smiles, endless toasts, tedious negotiations. I thought his happiness came from closing a deal, from earning the money that would give our baby and me a better life. Today, I finally understood. Their “business” was a blur of booze, bullshitting, and young models. Of course he was happy. This world of cheap champagne and expensive lies was where Sebastian had rotted from the inside out. My hands trembled as I opened the tracking app my friend had insisted I install on his phone. I’d once thought I would never, ever use it. But now… I needed to see. I needed to know what kind of temptation could shatter eight years of love so easily. Through the app’s remote camera, I saw him. In a private room, half-hidden by a screen, a group of executives laughed and joked. Sebastian was right there with them. Mr. Harrison pushed a glass of whiskey toward him. My first instinct was to burst in and stop them. In the early days of the company, we were dirt poor. He never let me go without my favorite cronuts, but he lived on instant ramen for three years straight. As the business grew, he pushed himself too hard, drinking his way through deals until he developed a stomach ulcer and started coughing up blood. His stomach was shot. One drink was agony. But before I could move, the girl beside him—Jane—acted faster. She snatched the glass and downed the entire thing in one go. Her pretty, pale face contorted in pain. It was obvious she couldn’t handle her liquor, but she’d taken the hit for him. She placed the empty glass back in Mr. Harrison’s hand, her smile shy. “I’ll be drinking for Mr. Vaughn tonight,” she said softly. “And to keep everyone entertained, I’ll dance for you. All I ask is that you gentlemen don’t push him to drink.” Without a second thought, she began to dance in the center of the room. She bent backward, dropped into the splits, spun like a top—a desperate puppet with no dignity left. The scene was sickeningly familiar. Five years ago, Sebastian landed a massive contract. For us, back then, it was a life-changing deal, the kind that meant we’d finally made it. At the dinner, the client, drunk and sloppy, slurred, “I hear your lovely Lindsay was the top-ranked arts student in the country. How about this: if she does a little pole dance for us, I’ll sign the contract right now.” The humiliation was a physical blow, but for Sebastian’s future, I thought it was worth it. But when I returned in the dance outfit, I found Sebastian screaming at the client. He’d smashed a glass, flipped the table, and thrown a punch. He spent three days in a holding cell and lost the deal completely. I cried, calling him a fool. But he just kissed away my tears. “Don’t be silly, Lindsay. Money bought with your dignity isn’t money I want.” His voice was a low whisper against my ear. “I’m going to buy you the most beautiful penthouse in this entire city, and I’m going to do it with clean money…” Tears blurred my vision, snapping me back to the present. The same scenario, but so, so different. The Sebastian I knew would never let me debase myself at a dinner table. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe Jane was just a pet to him, an obedient little thing he kept around. He didn’t love these other women. Eight years of love fought a brutal war against my own moral code. I couldn’t accept this grotesque mockery of a marriage, but I couldn’t bear to lose the man I’d loved for nearly a decade. I was desperately, pathetically trying to lie to myself: He feels differently about me than he does about her. I’m the one he truly loves. The next sound I heard was a glass shattering. Sebastian had grabbed Jane’s wrist, stopping her mid-spin. “You’re my woman,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I barely get to see enough of you myself. Why the hell should you dance for them?” He shot a venomous, smiling glare at Mr. Harrison, his tone pure steel. “Harrison, if I ever catch you making a spectacle of Jane again, consider your lease on the Northgate property terminated.” His voice dropped, each word a threat. “She’s my woman. Not your plaything.” I gasped for air, my legs threatening to give out from under me. Mr. Harrison was one of Sebastian’s most critical business partners. Tearing up that contract would be mutually destructive. For a girl like Jane, Sebastian was willing to gamble with the one thing he valued most: his empire. I couldn’t watch anymore. Wiping away tears, I fled. Back home, I sat on the couch in the dark, waiting. Waiting for Sebastian to come home. Waiting for the final, soul-destroying confrontation. But Sebastian never came. Instead, a friend request popped up on my phone. The profile picture was a fluffy little lamb. The username was “Little Lamb.” It had to be Jane. The second I accepted, a picture came through. It was our bed. On it, Sebastian was asleep next to another woman. My heart seized. I typed with shaking fingers. “What is this? Are you trying to tell me he has other women besides you?” Jane sent a smirking emoji, followed by a message. “Oh, no, nothing like that.” “I just had my procedure, so I can’t really… take care of Sebastian. And you know how strong his needs are. So, I just found a clean girl for him.” Her words shattered what little was left of my sanity. To please Sebastian, she would go this far? She was a psychopath. A complete and utter lunatic. Rage burned through me. But another message arrived before I could reply. “But he didn’t even touch her.” “He gave her some money and told her to get lost. He said… besides me, he doesn’t want anyone else.” “Lindsay, when you were pregnant, he couldn’t control himself and came to me. But now, for my sake, he can resist temptation. Tell me, which one of us do you think he loves more?” I wanted to scream at this shameless woman, but I didn’t even have the strength to type. I curled into a ball on the sofa, tears streaming silently down my face. This was all a game to her. She was showing off. Showing off how, after her abortion, Sebastian stayed by her side, while he ignored dozens of my messages. Showing off how Sebastian could betray me—his first love, his wife—for her, and then, for her sake, remain faithful and never touch another woman. I bit my lip, fueled by a bitter, desperate need to wound her back. I sent a scathing reply: “Don’t be an idiot. If Sebastian really loved you, would he have made you get an abortion just because I miscarried?” The dark screen of my phone reflected my own twisted face, contorted with jealousy. Before I could sink into my self-loathing, her response came. “I think you’re the idiot here.” “You see, I didn’t have an abortion. I miscarried. It happened at that business dinner, after I drank too much for Sebastian’s sake. He cried all night, holding me and telling me how sorry he was.” “To make it up to me, he put something in the milk you drank every night. That’s why you started bleeding, why you miscarried. He said it was his compensation to me. That the firstborn heir of the Vaughn family could only come from me.” Clatter. The ceramic mug slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. I felt hollowed out, a ghost in my own home. I stumbled numbly towards the door, needing to find Sebastian, to demand an explanation. Only then did I look down and see the trail of blood I was leaving behind me. Shards of ceramic were embedded in the soles of my feet. A raw, animalistic sob tore from my throat. It wasn’t the glass in my feet that hurt. It was the shards in my heart.

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A week before Christmas, I was fired. In the biting December wind, I ran to my best friend’s house, my vision blurred by hot tears. “Stella, my boss stole my concept and made me the scapegoat! I swear, I hope he gets stuck in holiday gridlock with explosive diarrhea!” Through my tears, I reached out and grabbed what I thought was my best friend’s waist. It felt remarkably solid, hard, and a bit broader than usual. I looked up, blinking through my tears. “Did you grow taller?” Stella’s voice floated from across the room. “You’re hugging the wrong person, Hazel. That’s my brother.” 1 You really couldn’t blame me. What kind of grown man wears a fluffy, neon pink cartoon pajama set? After wiping my eyes and shoving my glasses back onto my face, the image came into sharp focus. Sitting on the sofa was a man with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and endlessly long legs. He possessed a cold, aloof face that looked like it belonged on a high fashion billboard. Somehow, he made that ridiculous pink fleece look like haute couture. I forced a strained smile. “Rowan, when did you get back from London?” Rowan tilted his head slightly, his gaze dark. “Just now.” No wonder he looked exhausted. Jet lag. Clearly, my timing was terrible. I stood up to leave, but Stella grabbed my arm. “Look at the blizzard outside. You can’t even get an Uber. Where are you going to go?” Without waiting for an answer, she tossed a fluffy neon green pajama set at me. “Here, matching family outfits. I bought one for you too. You’re sleeping in my bed tonight.” I stared at the neon green monstrosity in my hands. It was the exact same style as Rowan’s. Except his was “Macho Pink” and mine was “True Love Green.” I hesitated. Putting this on felt like a permanent vow of celibacy. Before I could react, the pajamas were snatched from my hands. Rowan stood up. At six foot three, his presence cast a heavy shadow over me. Right in front of my eyes, he stripped off his pink pajama top, revealing a chiseled torso with an absolutely sinful eight pack. Before I could properly appreciate the view, he swiftly pulled on the green top. “You wear the pink one.” He shoved his discarded pink top into my hands. It was still warm from his body heat, carrying his signature scent of crisp cedarwood and winter air. The heat radiating from the fabric flushed my cheeks instantly. Rowan was already heading up the stairs. He threw a final sentence over his shoulder. “I need to catch up on sleep. Try not to demolish the house, you two.” I buried half my face into the pink fleece, whispering to Stella. “Is your brother into me?” Stella rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “I told you to make a move years ago and you said it wasn’t appropriate. Well, now it’s too late.” 2 Rowan had returned to the States for a blind date. An arranged marriage setup. The prospective bride was Victoria, the only daughter of the biggest venture capital firm partnering with Rowan’s family. Ivy League educated, brilliant, and drop dead gorgeous. She was immaculate from her manicured toes to the crown of her head. The rumor was that the parents had set it up. If they clicked, an engagement would be announced before the New Year. Equal status, powerful families. A perfect alliance. The thought of this absolute god of a man becoming someone else’s husband made my chest tighten until I couldn’t breathe. The pain of being framed and fired was nothing compared to this. Stella showed no mercy, delivering the final blow. “You coward. I told you to confess, but you kept making excuses. Look at you now. Your dream guy is getting married, and the bride isn’t you.” I mumbled something pathetic, thinking to myself: With my background, even if I had the guts to confess, would he ever look my way? I was just being realistic. A wet, handsome head poked out over the second floor railing. “Stella, come find me some clothes.” “Busy!” Stella shouted without looking up from her phone. “Ask Hazel to do it!” Silence from above. I panicked and started to decline. Stella yelled up the stairs, “Hazel won’t help you either. Just stay naked!” A long pause followed. Then, Rowan’s voice drifted down. “Hazel.” His low, magnetic voice had a hook in it, coiling around my eardrums. “Please.” 3 I was a regular at the house, but I had never stepped foot into Rowan’s bedroom. Fortunately, the layout was familiar. I opened his walk in closet. It was filled with rows of identical loungewear, differentiated only by subtle shades and fabric textures. Before I entered, Rowan had ducked into the master bathroom. I called out, “Rowan, what color do you want?” “Anything.” I grabbed a white set. The bathroom door cracked open, and I passed the clothes through the sliver of space. A moment later. “I don’t like this one.” Fine. I grabbed a black set. As I pulled it off the shelf, the hem of a shirt caught on a delicately wrapped box. The box tumbled to the plush carpet, popping open. A corner of an envelope peeked out. The envelope looked incredibly familiar. I gently pulled it out and felt like I had been struck by lightning. It was the love letter I had written to Rowan back in high school. “What are you looking at?” Rowan had stepped out of the bathroom and was leaning against the doorframe, watching me. Startled, my hands moved faster than my brain. I shoved the envelope up my sleeve. “Nothing,” I stammered, gripping the box like it was an active explosive. “Rowan, what’s in this box?” “Old things. I don’t remember.” A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God he didn’t remember. He walked past me, plucking the black clothes from my frozen hands. He was wearing nothing but a low slung white towel around his hips. Droplets of water dripped from his damp hair, sliding down his chest and disappearing beneath the edge of the towel. “Are you planning to stay and watch me change?” Rowan’s fingers moved to the knot of the towel. I dropped the box and bolted from the room. 4 Rowan was Seattle’s newest, most successful tech mogul. The golden boy. As for me, to put it nicely, I was from a single parent household. To put it bluntly, I was a wild kid nobody wanted. Rowan was the bright moon in the sky. I was the stray cat in the alley. My love for him felt like an insult to his status. But I didn’t always have this kind of self awareness. Back in high school, when I became friends with Stella through an academic decathlon, everyone whispered that I was a social climber, latching onto a rich girl to change my destiny. Young and arrogant, I wore my courage like armor. The gossip didn’t affect me. Stella and I walked to school together, studied together, and complained about the cafeteria food together. In our senior year, we won the national science championship together. Stella said to me, “Thanks to the genius for carrying me.” I replied, “Thanks to the heiress for buying my lunch.” Standing on that podium, I crushed every insulting word ever thrown at me beneath my worn out sneakers. That was also the day I met Rowan for the first time. 5 We used our prize money to throw ourselves a tiny celebration. We ate street tacos and drank cheap soda. At two in the morning, Stella and I were sitting on the curb in our school uniforms, looking like two abandoned garden gnomes. Rowan’s sleek black car pulled up right in front of us. Long legs, tailored dark suit, the wind catching his hair under the warm glow of the streetlights. He bent down, looking at Stella and me the way someone looks at two stray puppies. I hiccuped. I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol, but I felt completely intoxicated. “Stella, this guy is gorgeous. I want to kiss him.” Stella looked up, let out a piercing shriek, grabbed my arm, and dragged me down the street. I didn’t understand. “Why are we running? I haven’t even gotten his number yet!” Stella gasped, “Are you trying to die? That’s my brother!” The result was the two of us cornered in a dark alley by Rowan. He grabbed us each by the scruff of the neck and threw us into the back of his car. We got a brutal lecture for staying out all night. I don’t remember a single word he said. My entire brain was chanting: God, he’s so hot. I really want to kiss him. By then, he was a junior at Stanford, already launching his first startup, a rising star in the business world. With his brilliant mind, stunning looks, and elite background, he naturally attracted a legion of admirers. I whispered to Stella, “Can I try to pursue your brother?” Stella was adamant. “Yes! Go get him! Seduce him!” Fearless, I actually wrote a love letter and secretly slipped it into his jacket pocket. Silence. I refused to give up. I wrote a second one. Before I could deliver it, my backpack was snatched by Brooke, the school bully, on my way home. Laughing, she pulled out the medication I had just bought for my grandmother. Three hundred dollars a box. Insurance didn’t cover it. I had used all my prize money to buy six boxes. A six month supply. It was my grandmother’s lifeline. Brooke put her boot on the box. One hard press, and the capsules would be crushed. “Look at you, dreaming of dating Rowan. Do you really think you deserve him?” She held the other five boxes hostage. “Want them back?” Yes. “Eat the love letter, and I’ll give them to you.” Youthful pride is both fierce and fragile. But a high school crush meant absolutely nothing compared to my grandmother’s life. I ripped the envelope open, shoved the paper into my mouth, and chewed. Along with the paper, I swallowed my affection, my courage, and my dignity. I turned around and saw Rowan standing at the end of the alley. He was bathed in sunlight, glowing as always. I stood in the shadows, utterly pathetic. I never spoke of my feelings again. I wasn’t worthy. 6 Rowan disappeared early the next morning. So, as an unemployed freeloader, I comfortably buried myself under the duvet in Stella’s guest room, staring at the ceiling and sighing. Stella swatted my arm. “Stop sighing. I’m going to go rip your ex-boss a new one.” No need. Anyone who develops software leaves behind a few hidden bugs just to survive. Near noon, my phone finally rang. Gavin, my former boss, sounded like his pants were on fire. “Hazel, I’m downstairs at your apartment. I’m picking you up for work.” I scoffed. “Gavin, did you forget you fired me? You’re the lead developer on this project now. Stay away from me.” Gavin’s voice grew more frantic, bordering on begging. “Hazel, Queen Hazel, I messed up. We have a final review with Deep Blue Capital today. If you don’t help me present the backend, I’m finished!” “Thirty thousand dollars. Deposit it now.” Gavin ground his teeth. “Deal.” Hanging up, Stella looked at me with pure disdain. “And you were cursing him with diarrhea? You’re the ruthless one here. But… do you know who owns Deep Blue Capital?” I didn’t. But I found out very quickly. In the Deep Blue conference room, I took a seat behind Gavin. I looked up and met Rowan’s freezing cold eyes. My heart did a backflip. Hiding behind Gavin, I did a quick Google search on my phone. Deep Blue Capital. CEO: Rowan Pierce. I didn’t know what was wrong with him today, but he stared at me the entire time, looking like he wanted to burn holes through my skull. I sat on pins and needles, presenting the project while desperately trying to recall if I had done anything to offend him last night. I didn’t think so. “Ms. Davis, I understand you recently lost your job. What is your relationship with Mr. Gavin?” After the presentation, Rowan’s first question silenced the entire room. I thought about it. The most likely scenario was that he knew I had cursed out my boss last night, and now I was here presenting with him. To a client like Deep Blue, that screamed instability. Thinking of the thirty thousand dollars I hadn’t even warmed in my pocket yet, I took a deep breath and explained. “Gavin is my boyfriend. Yesterday, we just had a lover’s quarrel about personal matters. It has nothing to do with the project. You can trust our stability, Mr. Pierce.” Taking my cue, Gavin nodded frantically. “Yes, exactly! Just a minor spat between a couple. I apologize for any confusion it caused.” To sell the lie, Gavin reached over and grabbed my hand, playing the role of the reconciled lover. Rowan said absolutely nothing. He stood up coldly and walked out of the conference room. The rest of the executives were stunned. They exchanged glances: Do we sign this contract or not?

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This year, the finance team saved the company $4.2 million in taxes and recovered $28 million in bad debt. The night before the Christmas gala, the CEO had us stack $7 million in cash in the conference room and guard it overnight. “Grace,” he said with a smile, “I’ve got a special prize for the finance team tomorrow!” That night, we took turns using the bathroom, staring at the money. Emily, our intern, whispered, “This much cash… it has a smell, right? A good one. Maybe we’ll each get a bundle?” I just smiled. With our frugal CEO, we’d be lucky to get a $500 bonus. At the gala, sales stuffed cash into bags, with the top seller taking home $280,000. Then it was our turn. The CEO handed me a cheap plastic gadget that chirped, “Reset! Reset!” “The finance team works the hardest,” he said. “So, I got you all a new calculator to make your work faster and your overtime shorter!” 1 “Beep—Reset! Reset!” The room erupted in thunderous laughter, the sound so loud it felt like it could tear the roof off the ballroom. Alex, the head of sales, laughed the loudest. He was still holding his duffel bag overflowing with cash, pointing at us. “Mr. Jackson, that gift is brilliant!” he roared. “Get the bean counters to wipe last year’s slate clean! Time to start fresh next year, do more work, and stop making trouble for the rest of us!” This was the “special prize.” This was the “surprise” we’d earned after guarding his money all night, holding our bladders until they nearly burst. Last night, after everyone left, the building’s heating was shut off. It was fifteen degrees in that conference room. To guard the seven million dollars he wanted to “show off,” the five of us huddled in oversized coats, taking shifts to watch the money, terrified to even take a bathroom break. Emily, the intern, had fallen asleep on the pile of cash and drooled on it. She woke up in a panic, her face pale with fear that she’d be docked pay for damaging the bills. Our senior accountant, Sarah, who suffers from a severe herniated disc, sat bolt upright on a hard chair all night. This morning, she could barely walk straight. We had guarded a mountain of gold, only to be publicly executed for it. “Mr. Jackson.” I took a step forward, walking to the microphone. The laughter died down a little, but the malicious stares still felt like needles piercing my skin. Mr. Jackson looked at me, his eyes full of amusement. “What is it, Grace? Too excited? No need to thank me. It’s just a little something from the company. A good craftsman needs the best tools, right?” “We don’t want a token gesture. We want fairness.” I stared at him, suppressing the inferno of rage in my chest. “This year, the finance department saved this company $4.2 million through completely legal tax planning.” “Last month, our entire department spent two weeks in the freezing snow, tracking down a debtor to recover a $28 million bad debt. We were chased by dogs and had dirty water thrown on us.” “The sales department took home their five percent commission. They deserved it. They’re the heroes.” “But what about us?” “We guarded seven million dollars of your cash all night, and all we get is a five-dollar calculator you probably bought on Amazon?” The room went quiet for a few seconds. The smile on Mr. Jackson’s face faded. He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Grace, your math is wrong.” He picked up his own microphone, addressing the entire company in a paternal tone. “The finance department certainly works hard, but everyone needs to understand the basic logic here.” “The sales team fights on the front lines. They are the rainmakers who bring money into this company!” “And you in finance? You’re the support staff. The housekeepers. The money was always the company’s. The bad debt was recovered because our legal team is intimidating. The tax savings were because of favorable government policies.” He sneered. “You just push a few buttons on a calculator. And for that, you think you deserve a cut worth millions?” “The receptionist pushes the elevator button for me every day. Should I give her company shares, too?” Another wave of laughter exploded through the room, this time more vicious and unrestrained. “Yeah, finance is always a pain in the ass. Getting an expense report approved is like pulling teeth, and now they want a commission?” “Mr. Jackson’s right. They’re just a bunch of number-crunchers. They produce nothing but want a piece of the pie? They must be crazy!” The humiliation slapped me across the face. I could feel my team behind me, trembling with suppressed rage. I could even hear Emily sniffling. “Fine.” I nodded, then slammed the calculator down on the podium with a loud crack. “Since Mr. Jackson thinks all we do is push buttons, this gift is far too valuable. We can’t accept it.” With that, I turned to my team, their eyes red and brimming with tears. “Let’s go.” 2 The moment we stepped out of the hotel, the cold wind hit me, and I realized my back was drenched in a cold sweat. “Grace, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t hold it in…” Emily squatted by the roadside, sobbing uncontrollably. “My mom’s surgery is next week…” “The doctor said we need to have fourteen thousand dollars ready. I was counting on my bonus… I thought I’d get at least five or six thousand. With my savings, it would have been just enough…” “Stop crying.” Sarah pulled a tissue from her purse and roughly wiped Emily’s tears, though her own hand was shaking. “Who are you crying for? Didn’t you hear Alex and the others? We’re just parasites!” “But Sarah…” Emily looked up, her makeup a mess. “That $4.2 million tax plan… Grace, you went through dozens of drafts to get that right! That $28 million… Grace led us and fought like hell to get it back…” “How can they say it had nothing to do with us?” she wailed. “When we started the project, Mr. Jackson promised us a one percent commission!” I remained silent, pulling a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it. He probably made that promise because he never believed we could actually pull it off. Ping. A notification lit up Sarah’s phone. A payment reminder for her son’s private school tuition. She quickly turned off the screen, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll figure out the money,” I said, looking back at the hotel. “What belongs to us, no one can take away. Everyone go home, get some sleep. Be at the office on time tomorrow.” The next morning, I arrived an hour early. The door to Mr. Jackson’s office was ajar. The room was thick with smoke and echoing with boisterous laughter. “Mr. Jackson, that move last night was genius!” “You should have seen the faces on those women in finance! They looked like they were going to be sick, hahaha!” “It’s about time someone put them in their place. They scrutinize every single one of my expense reports. That should shut them up!” “Hmph. A bunch of penny-pinching vultures. They even question how I spend my own money,” Mr. Jackson’s voice was cold. “If they weren’t still somewhat useful, I wouldn’t have even wasted the five bucks on them.” “By the way, that ‘AI Finance’ system… how are the talks with that vendor going?” “All settled!” “It’s only twenty-five thousand a year for the service. So much cheaper than keeping these freeloaders around! And it’s smart AI. It listens. It doesn’t cause trouble.” I stood at the door, my hand frozen on the handle. So that was it. It wasn’t a joke to liven up the party. It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was a premeditated execution. Humiliate us first, force us to quit, so he wouldn’t even have to pay severance. I threw the door open. The laughter inside stopped abruptly. Seeing it was me, the flicker of panic on Mr. Jackson’s face turned to annoyance. “Don’t you know how to knock? Where are your manners?” Alex was lounging on the sofa, his legs crossed, a smirk on his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t our esteemed Director of Finance. What’s wrong? Your calculator break? Want me to get the sales team to pitch in for a new one?” I ignored the barking dog and walked straight to Mr. Jackson’s desk, planting my hands on it and staring him down. “Mr. Jackson, since you clearly think the finance department is useless, we’ll get out of your way.” “This is our severance proposal. Standard severance package, plus the bad debt commission you promised. Not a penny less.” “Sign it, and we’re gone. We’ll make room for your AI.” I slapped the proposal, which I had printed overnight, onto his desk. Mr. Jackson glanced at the number and his eye twitched. “Three hundred thousand dollars in commission? Grace, are you robbing me?” “Is it too much?” I sneered. “Alex alone walked away with a bonus nearly that size yesterday. This is for our entire department of five. Compared to the $28 million we recovered, this is pocket change.” “That’s the company’s money!” Mr. Jackson slammed his mug on the desk. “Grace, don’t push your luck. You want to leave? Fine! Write your resignation letters and get the hell out! You want severance? Not a chance in hell!” “So, there’s no room for discussion?” 3 “Discussion? What right do you have to discuss anything with me?” Mr. Jackson stood up, grabbing a stack of files and throwing them at me. “Believe it or not, I can have security throw you out right now!” “Publicly insubordinate, terrible work attitude,” he snarled. “You’re fired! And you’re getting nothing!” Alex chuckled from the side. “You hear that? Get lost before you embarrass yourself further.” I looked at Mr. Jackson’s contorted face and suddenly smiled. The smile made him pause. “Mr. Jackson, you seem to have forgotten something,” I said softly. “People in finance… we love keeping records. And we’re even better at digging up old ones.” “If you want to do this the easy way, we’ll follow labor laws. But if you want to do this the hard way…” “Then we can help you remember exactly how that $4.2 million in tax savings was planned.” Without waiting to see his face change color, I turned and left. Back in the finance department, the atmosphere was heavy. Every computer screen was black. “Grace…” Emily ran over, her voice choked with tears. “I can’t log in. It says my access is frozen. And HR just came by and told us to pack our personal belongings by the end of the day…” “Stay calm.” I patted her shoulder. “Where’s Sarah?” “In the small conference room. Linda is talking to her.” Linda, the HR Director. The woman who was always smiling and talking about “company culture” was now acting as Mr. Jackson’s executioner. I pushed open the conference room door. Sarah was huddled in a corner, her hair a mess, looking ten years older. Linda sat across from her, casually twirling a pen. Two unfamiliar men in black suits sat beside her. “…Sarah, you need to think this through,” Linda’s voice was as gentle as ever. “This is embezzlement. It’s cooking the books. If the company presses charges, not only will you have to pay back every salary you’ve ever earned, but you’ll also do a few years in prison.” “Your son is about to apply to high school, isn’t he? If his permanent record shows his mother is a felon, his life is ruined.” “Stop it! Stop it!” Sarah covered her ears, breaking down into hysterical sobs. “I’ll sign! I’ll sign the voluntary resignation! Please, just don’t call the police!” “There now, that’s better,” Linda smiled, pushing a document toward her. “Hold on!” I rushed forward, snatched the paper, and tore it in half. “Linda, who do you think you’re scaring?” I stood in front of Sarah, glaring at her. “Those transactions were personally authorized by Mr. Jackson! To evade taxes, he had Sarah split the business across five shell corporations! He signed off on every single step!” Linda shot me a disdainful look, slowly brushing the paper scraps off her suit. “Grace, I knew you’d be difficult.” She waved her hand, and the two men in suits stood up, blocking our way. Linda pulled another document from her folder and tossed it at me. “You don’t have to sign. You can sue. But let me remind you, the legal representative of those shell corporations is that junior accountant who quit six months ago. As the head of finance, do you think you can walk away clean?” “As for Mr. Jackson’s signature… what proof do you have that those are the originals? I can print as many of those as I want.” My heart sank. So that was their endgame. The junior accountant was a distant relative of Jackson’s. The trap had been set months ago. They had planted a landmine right under our department, and we were the perfect scapegoats. “And,” Linda leaned in, her voice a low whisper, “that AI finance team has already taken over the backend data. All the operation logs on your computers have been wiped. Grace, what exactly are you going to fight the company with?”

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1 Seraphina saved my life three times, so I gave her three chances to break my heart. The first was our wedding day. She arrived with bruises on her neck. I acted like I didn’t see them. The second, she was photographed meeting a lounge singer. I smashed my car’s headlights, slapped her until she bled, and demanded a divorce before losing myself in a club until dawn. Seraphina heard and tore the club apart, then live-streamed a tearful apology and declared her love to the world, swearing she’d be a devoted wife. My family, fearing damage to our corporate alliance, pressured me to forgive her. I did. But the day my mother jumped from our roof after my father’s mistress and her son tormented her, Seraphina disappeared. When I found her, she was in a lounge, her arm linked with my father’s illegitimate son, clinking glasses with friends. “Sera, didn’t you swear off this? Isn’t Asher going to kill you?” someone teased. She scoffed. “Rowan’s no stranger. He was scared, I was just comforting him. What’s the problem?” She sipped champagne, confident. “Besides, when has Asher ever stayed mad? He’ll forgive me. He always does.” But you’re wrong, Seraphina. You’re out of chances. … I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The boisterous laughter in the room died instantly. Someone fumbled to cut the music. Seeing me, Seraphina shot to her feet, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. “Asher, what are you doing here? Is… is everything taken care of for your mother?” She gestured toward the boy beside her. “Rowan was just so shaken up. I know he’s your brother, and you’re so busy, so I thought I’d bring him out to clear his head…” How noble of her. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Have you drunk yourself stupid? Have you forgotten why my mother is dead?” Today was supposed to have been my parents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Instead, his mistress and her son had shown up at our door. They claimed they were there to offer congratulations, but it was a declaration of war, a blatant provocation. And my father, instead of feeling an ounce of shame, told my mother to be more understanding. Rowan was only two years younger than me. My mother had dedicated more than two decades of her life to building a home for that man, only to discover his betrayal had been a shadow living alongside them for nearly as long. Our housekeeper, unsettled by the tension, had secretly called me while I was out picking up the anniversary cake. But by the time I raced back to the villa, it was too late. My mother leaped from the rooftop. Her body landed on the hood of my car, shattering the windshield in a spiderweb of cracks, painting it crimson. While I was drowning in grief, making arrangements for her funeral, my father was busy comforting his mistress. And my wife… my loving wife was out consoling the son of my mother’s tormentor? Suddenly, an unthinkable thought struck me. “Seraphina, you already knew Rowan, didn’t you? You knew who he was all along.” “I…” She stammered, her eyes darting away, guilt written all over her face. Rowan quickly jumped in. “Brother, please don’t blame Sera. It was my dad and me… we asked her not to say anything yet. We were afraid it would upset you and were waiting for the right moment.” He looked between us, a picture of innocence. “I was her junior in college. We… we dated for a while, but her family forced her into an arranged marriage, so we had to break up.” He added hastily, “I swear, I have no intention of taking her from you. It’s just… I was so scared today. I never thought your mother would be so… distraught.” Seraphina’s silence was all the confirmation I needed. A wave of bitter absurdity washed over me. So, she knew. She knew my father had a secret son, a whole other life, and she kept it from me. If I had known sooner, maybe I could have prevented this. Maybe my mother wouldn’t have felt so utterly alone, so betrayed that jumping seemed like the only way out. Seeing the storm on my face, Rowan spoke again, his voice cloyingly sweet. “Brother, my mother and I truly just wanted to offer our best wishes. I know… I know your mom’s death is connected to us, and I feel terribly guilty.” He gestured to the karaoke machine. “I just graduated, so I don’t have much to offer as a gift. How about I sing you a song, as an apology?” Before I could answer, he hurried over and selected a track. The next second, a ridiculously cheerful party anthem blared from the speakers. I froze. On the day of my mother’s tragic death, he was going to sing that? He turned, a mocking little wink in his eye. The rage that had been simmering inside me finally exploded. I snatched a heavy glass bottle from the coffee table and brought it down on his head. CRACK. The bottle shattered. Rowan screamed, diving behind Seraphina for cover. “Sera, are you okay?” he cried, feigning panic. “I-I didn’t mean it! I swear I didn’t pick that song. I must have been so nervous seeing my brother that I hit the wrong button…” Seraphina stood between us, a trickle of blood running down from her forehead where a shard of glass had nicked her. Her eyes, however, were fixed on me, blazing with fury. “Asher, what the hell is wrong with you? He’s your half-brother! How could you attack him?” She shielded Rowan protectively. “With that vicious temper of yours, it’s no wonder he was scared enough to make a mistake.” “I was starting to feel a little guilty about keeping this from you,” she spat, “but now I see it was the right call. God knows what you would have done to him if you’d known sooner!” Rowan wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his face a mask of adoration. “Oh, Sera, you’re so good to me. You always protect me.” Seraphina’s expression softened as she looked at him, ruffling his hair with a fond, exasperated sigh. “What am I going to do with you? You’re as soft as a little rabbit. If I don’t protect you, the big bad wolf will eat you alive.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. A long time ago, a much younger Seraphina had said those exact words to me. She probably didn’t even remember. I drew a long, shaky breath. From my jacket pocket, I pulled out the papers I’d drafted but never signed after her last affair. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice devoid of all emotion. “Let’s get a divorce.” 2 Seraphina let out a sharp, dismissive laugh, signing the divorce papers with a flourish. “Asher, is this your new trick? The last one didn’t work, so you’re trying again?” She tossed the pen down. “Fine. I’ll sign. But I didn’t cheat this time, so don’t expect me to come crawling back to you.” “See you at City Hall in a month,” she said, her chin high. “You’d better still have this much backbone then. Don’t come crying to me when you change your mind.” My past forgiveness had made her complacent. She was convinced that for the sake of our families’ business alliance, I would never truly leave her. She was wrong. “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice flat. “I won’t.” Without another word, I turned and walked out. I didn’t go home. I booked a hotel suite for the month, to wait out the mandatory cooling-off period. In the days that followed, Seraphina didn’t send a single text. I heard through the grapevine that Rowan wanted to learn to ski in Switzerland. Seraphina owned a private resort there, so she took him. My best friend was livid when he called. “What the hell is wrong with her?” he raged. “Everyone knows she built that resort for you! It was supposed to be your belated honeymoon spot after she proposed. It was meant to be for you and you alone!” “And now she’s taking that little bastard there? Has she learned nothing? Is she cheating on you again?!” I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of my hotel room, the signed divorce papers lying on the table in front of me. For a moment, I was speechless. These papers… I had them drawn up the last time I caught her. I’d been so suffocated by her betrayal that I’d called my friend and hit the clubs, determined to drink myself into oblivion. Somehow, Seraphina found out. She stormed in like a hurricane, flanked by her security team, and proceeded to smash the place up, slapping every woman who had dared to talk to me. She had grabbed me by the collar, her eyes wild. “You’re a real piece of work, Asher.” Then, her voice broke. “I admit it. I fell in love with you. I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else. Are you satisfied now?” What followed was that infamous live-streamed confession, a spectacle for the whole world to see. Seraphina swore she would change, that she would be a good wife. And for a while, life was sweet. Like my friend said, she showered me with affection, catering to my every whim. She knew I loved skiing, so she built a private mountain estate in the Swiss Alps, just for me. The name itself was a combination of ours. But now… I looked at the latest picture Rowan had posted online. The grand sign above the resort entrance had been replaced. The four words that once symbolized our union, “Asherina,” were gone. In their place, a new sign proudly proclaimed, “Serarowan.” “Yes,” I finally said into the phone, my voice hollow. “She’s cheating again. Which is why I’m done with her for good.” I hung up and, without a moment’s hesitation, signed my name on the divorce papers. On the seventh day after my mother’s death, my father called, asking me to come home for breakfast. A foolish part of me hoped he felt a shred of remorse, that he wanted us to visit her grave together. When I arrived, I found Rowan and his mother, Diane, sitting at the dining table. My face went cold. I turned to leave. “Stop!” my father barked, his voice sharp with anger. “Don’t you walk out of here!” He slammed his hand on the table. “I heard you attacked Rowan at the club the other day! What kind of monster are you? He’s your brother!” He jabbed a finger at me. “Thank God Seraphina was there to shield him! You injure him, and then you have the audacity to demand a divorce and run away from home?” “I don’t know what your mother taught you, but she raised a thug! You will get on your knees and apologize to them right now before you ruin the partnership between our families!” I stared at this man, this shell of a father whose world revolved only around profit and power. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You knew I ran away from home? Funny, you never bothered to ask where I was staying, or if I was okay.” “Oh, that’s right, I forgot,” I sneered. “Your heart is entirely occupied by your whore. Otherwise, you might have actually shown up to your own wife’s funeral. You have the nerve to talk about my mother after that?” My father’s face turned purple with rage. He threw his fork down and raised his hand to strike me. Diane quickly intervened, her eyes glinting as she played the part of the benevolent peacemaker. “Darling, what are you doing?” she cooed, holding his arm. “The boy is grieving. We should be understanding. It’s alright, I don’t mind what he says.” She patted his chest, then turned to me with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Besides, you can’t bruise his handsome face. How will he and Rowan both serve as your groomsmen?” The world tilted. My blood ran cold. My voice came out as a strangled whisper. “What… what did you just call him? You’re getting married?!” 3 “My mother has only been dead for a week, and you’re already marrying your mistress?!” My father’s face hardened, his voice dripping with righteous indignation. “You said it yourself, your mother is dead. Am I supposed to mourn her forever?” “And Rowan is a grown man now,” he continued, gesturing to the boy. “I can’t let people whisper behind his back, calling him illegitimate for the rest of his life. It’s my duty as a father!” Duty? I collapsed into a chair, a hysterical laugh bubbling up from my chest as tears streamed down my face. Rowan slid into the seat next to me, taking my hand in a gesture of false camaraderie. “This is great, brother! Now we can be a real family. I don’t know much about the rules of high society, so you’ll have to teach me. I wouldn’t want to embarrass anyone.” “Sure,” I said, wiping my tears away. “No problem.” My father and Diane exchanged satisfied smiles. I calmly lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and blew the smoke directly into Rowan’s face. “Then here’s your first lesson. I am the son of the legal wife. You are the son of a whore. That means you don’t get to open your mouth in my presence unless I speak to you first. Got it?” With a flick of my wrist, I pressed the glowing tip of the cigarette into the back of his hand. The hiss of searing flesh was punctuated by Rowan’s piercing shriek. I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t think I don’t know. You spoke to my mother alone right before she died. I haven’t settled that score with you yet, so I suggest you stay the hell away from me.” “Asher! Have you lost your mind? That’s your brother!” my father roared, jumping to his feet. Diane rushed to cradle the sobbing Rowan, glaring daggers at me. “Hah…” I dusted off my hands. “My mother only gave birth to me. I don’t have any cheap half-brothers.” “Dad, you know my temper,” I warned, my voice deadly calm. “You want to throw a wedding for this trash and officially welcome them into society? You go right ahead. But I swear to you, if you try, I will burn your wedding to the ground. Test me.” He knew I wasn’t bluffing. My connection to the Seraphine family still held weight. My father and Diane’s faces contorted with rage and impotence. Just then, a familiar voice cut through the tension from behind me. “With me here, I’d like to see who dares.” Seraphina strode in, one hand casually tucked into her pocket. The moment Rowan saw her, his tears redoubled. He scrambled over to her like she was his savior, showing her his burned hand. Seraphina’s face tightened with pity and anger. “It’s okay, Rowan,” she cooed, her voice soft. “I’ll take you to the best specialist. I promise there won’t be a scar.” She looked at him fondly. “Our Rowan has to be the most handsome groomsman for his father, doesn’t he?” I stared at her, incredulous. My voice trembled. “Seraphina, do you even hear yourself?” She met my gaze, a cold, mocking smile playing on her lips. “I heard everything, Asher. In our world, what man doesn’t have a few women on the side? Your mother died because she couldn’t handle it. Why are you blaming Rowan for her weakness?” Her words were like knives. “You had a father your whole life. Why shouldn’t Rowan have the same? It’s not fair.” “I don’t care what you think,” she declared, her voice ringing with finality. “I’m going to help him take his rightful place in this family. I’ll make sure everyone knows he’s a legitimate heir, and no one will ever dare call him illegitimate again.” She took a step closer, her eyes boring into mine. “You want to ruin this wedding, Asher? Go on. I dare you.” I knew she meant it. The last time she’d made a threat like that, the man who had made a crude joke about me found his company bankrupt within days. He vanished from Seacrest Bay, reportedly with two broken legs and no tongue. I should have seen this coming. Seraphina was always promiscuous. To her, my father’s infidelity was a trivial matter. She couldn’t possibly comprehend the depth of my mother’s pain, or mine. But the betrayal, coming from the woman who had shared my bed, still felt like a dagger twisting in my gut. I snapped. I slapped her, hard. “Get out!” I roared. Seraphina just smirked, rubbing her cheek. Before she could retort, Rowan charged at me, shoving me with all his might. “I’ve had enough of you! Stop bullying Sera!” he screamed. Seraphina watched with a flicker of amusement. “Well, well. The little rabbit has learned how to bite.” “You always protected me, Sera,” Rowan declared, puffing out his chest. “Now it’s my turn to protect you!” I stumbled backward, crashing into a pair of large potted cacti. Hundreds of tiny needles embedded themselves in my back and palms. The sharp, stinging pain made me gasp, blood welling up and dripping onto the floor. My father sighed, a look of utter disgust on his face. “You’ve completely ruined a perfectly good breakfast.” He turned to Seraphina. “Sera, you haven’t eaten, have you? Let’s go out.” Seraphina, her attention focused entirely on Rowan’s hand, simply nodded and led him away without a single glance back at me. As they left, Rowan turned his head and mouthed one word at me. Loser. I watched the four of them walk away, a happy family unit. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as hot tears finally began to fall. “Mom, look… you’re gone, and now your son is homeless…” My voice broke into a sob. “Doesn’t it hurt you to see this? Please, come back. I miss you so much…” 4 News of my father’s impending wedding spread through our social circle like wildfire. During that time, Seraphina flaunted Rowan at every opportunity, taking him to all sorts of high-profile events, even those meant exclusively for married couples. She made it clear to everyone: Rowan was not to be called illegitimate. He was to be treated with the same respect as they would treat her. Rowan, for his part, made sure I knew it. He would call or send videos constantly, each one a carefully crafted showcase of his new life with Seraphina. “Brother, Sera gave me another diamond ring yesterday. It even has our initials engraved on it. I heard it’s bigger than your wedding ring was.” “Oh, and she convinced her father to give me the family’s heirloom signet ring. Isn’t that something they only give to sons-in-law? I guess you won’t be needing it anymore.” I remembered that ring. By Seraphine family tradition, it was only passed to a new son-in-law after the birth of an heir. Seraphina had never bothered trying to get it for me, always saying, “We’ll have kids eventually, it’ll be yours then.” Given her past, I hadn’t been in any rush to start a family. We had planned to start trying after the New Year. Now, it seemed, that was off the table. I couldn’t imagine what she must have said or done to convince her staunchly traditional father to break such a long-standing rule. The final message was a picture of Seraphina, asleep. Her exposed neck and shoulders were a canvas of angry purple marks. The text below it read: “Sera said she hasn’t been this happy in a long time. She said being with an old man like you was so boring she could only fake it.” I didn’t bother replying. I just blocked his number. On the day of my father and Diane’s wedding, Seraphina, paranoid I would cause a scene, hired a legion of bodyguards to patrol the venue inside and out. It was completely unnecessary. She had already put the word out: anyone who dared to help me disrupt the wedding would be making an enemy of the Seraphine family. No one would touch me. I sat alone in my hotel room, clutching a photo of my mother, tears of guilt and helplessness streaming down my face. That afternoon, the door to my suite burst open. Seraphina stood there, flanked by her security, her face a mask of cold fury. A red-eyed, sobbing Rowan was right behind her. She stormed over and grabbed me by the collar. “Asher, I never thought you could sink this low! How could you leak private photos of Rowan at the wedding?” Her voice was laced with venom. “It’s all over the news! You’ve ruined him! How is he ever supposed to get married now? You just wanted to destroy his future!” I shoved her hand away, my brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talk—” Before I could finish, Rowan burst into tears. “Brother, I know you don’t want to give me the company shares, but it was Dad’s idea! I’m his son, I can’t just defy him, can I?” He looked at me with wounded eyes. “If you’re angry, take it out on me, I can handle it. But why did you have to do it on my mother’s wedding day? She’s been called a mistress for so many years… she’s suffered enough.” And then it all clicked into place. Years ago, when my father was still madly in love with my mother and defied his family to marry her, he had given her half of his shares in the company to show his devotion. My mother later signed them over to me. This was never about a wedding. This was a setup. A cold smile spread across my face. “Seraphina, are you blind? Can’t you see what this is? He’s staging this whole drama to steal the shares my mother left me.” “You say I did it? Who saw me? Do you have any proof?” “I don’t need proof! Rowan isn’t that kind of manipulative person. You’re the only one with a motive!” Seraphina shot back, her belief in him absolute. She grabbed my arm. “You’re going to go live right now, apologize to Rowan, and tell everyone you did it.” “And then,” she said, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper, “you will sign over all of your shares in the company to him. It’s what you owe him.” “And if I don’t?” At my defiance, Rowan let out a theatrical, despairing wail. “Sera, my reputation is ruined! Everyone is calling me a shameless degenerate who destroyed his own parents’ wedding!” “My brother had a father his whole life, he has company shares, he has an amazing wife like you… I have nothing! I can’t live like this, being pointed at and whispered about forever! I’d rather just die!” “Rowan, don’t be stupid!” Seraphina cried, grabbing his arm. She turned to me, her eyes burning with a cold fire, and a cruel smile twisted her lips. “Asher, did you really think the body cremated that day… was your mother’s?”

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1 Seven years. That’s how long I’d been back with the Moreaus, the family I was born into. And in all that time, they all still hated me. My parents found the stench of poverty impossible to wash off me, a stark contrast to the effortless grace of the girl who had taken my place. My biological brother, Marcus, blamed me for the year the false daughter had to move out and “suffer” after I first came home. When she moved back in, he guarded her like a junkyard dog, convinced I was a constant threat. Even Rhys, the boy I practically raised from infancy, declared that the false daughter, Sophie, was the sister he’d always dreamed of. Me? I was the wicked witch who wouldn’t let him eat junk food or play video games all day. He once told me, with all the certainty of a child, that no one in the world would ever love me. I thought he was right. It had to be something in the air of this world, something fundamentally toxic to my existence. So when a System appeared out of nowhere and asked if I wanted to complete missions in other worlds, I didn’t hesitate. I agreed instantly. … The System came for me the day I got out of the detention center. I’d been locked up for two weeks. Outside, winter had sunk its teeth into the air. I wrapped my thin windbreaker tighter around myself. Hunching my shoulders against the biting wind, I mumbled to the System. “Are you sure? As soon as this body dies, you can take me away?” After receiving a firm confirmation, my eyes settled on the nearby lake. I had just started walking toward it when a heavy coat was draped over my shoulders. I turned my head and came face-to-face with a sight that made my stomach churn. My dear brother, Marcus Moreau. Two weeks ago, he was the one who had personally escorted me to the police station. It was because Sophie’s masterpiece for the art competition, which had mysteriously gone missing, was found in my room. In shreds. At first, I had screamed myself hoarse, trying to defend myself. But as I looked at their impassive faces, my explanations withered into despair. I had forgotten. Sometimes, the truth doesn’t matter. Everyone has their own set of scales. And a single one of Sophie’s tears could outweigh my entire existence. Marcus had wiped away that tear and told me, his face a mask of cold disappointment, that I needed to learn a lesson. Remembering that, I shrugged my shoulders. The heavy men’s coat slid off and landed in a heap on the dusty ground. Marcus’s face tightened, his expression growing colder still. The old me would have been a mess of anxiety, forcing a placating smile. But now, I just gave him a sideways glance before looking away. “Does Sophie know you’re here?” I asked, my voice flat. “Because I’d hate for her to shed a tear and have you pin the blame on me again.” I offered a thin, humorless smile. “Two weeks ago, she cried, and you sent me to a detention center. You gave me a permanent record and made sure I wouldn’t be able to graduate. If she cries again, what’s next? Do you want me to bleed out to dry her tears for you?” Marcus, who had bent down to pick up the coat, froze. He stayed like that for several long seconds. After all, we both knew the truth. Sophie had destroyed her own painting. It was a pathetic, self-staged drama. Over the years, her schemes had always been clumsy and obvious, but our parents, Marcus, and Rhys had all chosen to be blind. Finally, he straightened up, brushing the dust from his coat. He didn’t offer it to me again. He kept his eyes on the ground. “Come home. Mom and Dad are waiting.” He paused, then finally looked at me. “Mom bought you a strawberry cake.” He reached for my hand. I flinched back, taking several steps away. “I don’t eat strawberry cake. I ate Sophie’s once, and you locked me outside in the courtyard to stand all night. Remember? It was snowing, too.” The fingers of his outstretched hand curled into a fist. He looked away, his gaze darting around like a cornered animal. A silent, bitter laugh formed on my lips. I knew he remembered. That night, as I stood shivering in the snow-filled courtyard, I had looked up and seen him in his second-floor bedroom, warm in a thin sweater. He gave me a single, indifferent glance before drawing the curtains shut. Snowflakes landed on my eyelashes, melting into cold trickles that slid down my numb face. I couldn’t tell if they were water or tears. 2 Marcus’s face was a mess of shame and conflict. His lips moved as if to say something more, but I was already done listening. The System had promised me a new world. A world where I would have loving parents and a brilliant older brother who adored me. A world completely different from this one, where every meal I’d eaten for seven years had felt like choking down uncooked rice. With that thought, I took a deep breath and broke into a run toward the man-made lake. “Cora! Where are you going?” As I sprinted, I could hear his frantic footsteps pounding on the pavement behind me. “Cora! No one at home is blaming you! Sophie promised she’d try to get along with you! You need to stop this, right now—” His angry shouts died in his throat. Because without a moment’s hesitation, I launched myself toward the thin sheet of ice forming at the water’s edge. I ran, full of joy, toward my new world. But in the next second, my vision flipped. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, tackling me to the frozen grass. At the same time, I heard a loud splash. I sat up, pushing myself from the ground, and saw Marcus flailing in the icy water. He couldn’t swim. I could hear his choked gasps for air, his face already turning a deathly shade of blue from the cold. I just sat there on the lawn, watching him sink, my expression blank. Chaos erupted on the shore. Someone jumped in and dragged him out. Wrapped in a blanket, Marcus shivered violently, but his eyes, across the frantic crowd, found mine. For the first time, those eyes, which always held such cold assessment and judgment when they looked at me, held something else. They held pain. Anguish. But what did he have to be anguished about? I shook my head, a scornful smile on my face. When the Moreau family found me at fifteen, I actually had one good year. Back then, Sophie had claimed she felt guilty for stealing my life of privilege. She announced she was giving me back my parents and brother, and she moved out with Rhys. She left with a dramatic flourish, deleting all her contact information for the family. That year, my mother cooked my favorite dishes. My father canceled business dinners to eat with me. And Marcus would pick me up from school every day. The dinner table was often silent, and Marcus was always distracted on the drives home, but I was still clumsy and greedy in my enjoyment of the warmth I had been denied for fifteen years. I thought I finally had a home. But the next year, Sophie came back, with Rhys in tow. She was rail-thin and looked like a startled bird. And just like that, in less than a year, my father, mother, and brother were no longer mine. The food on the table was always Sophie’s favorite. My father, no matter how late he came home, would always peek into her room. And I never saw Marcus’s car at the school gates again. Then came Sophie’s endless campaign of sabotage. She said I tore her dress. Marcus believed her and threw my entire wardrobe into the backyard pond. She said I stole her necklace. Marcus looked at me like I was scum. “Give it back to her, Cora. Don’t make me search your room.” The necklace was later found in a hidden compartment of Sophie’s own jewelry box. She just stuck out her tongue and said she’d forgotten, and no one cared about the suspicion and hurt I had endured. She said I was spreading rumors about her at school. Marcus didn’t even bother to ask me; he just canceled my car service. Sophie’s tactics were never clever, but they were sharp, and they dug into my flesh, causing a pain that was deep and relentless. My explanations were useless. Their favoritism was a fortress, and I was never allowed even a sliver of their affection. So what was this performance now? What was all this supposed to mean? 3 The crowd of onlookers on the shore began to disperse. I stood up, testing the ankle I had twisted in the fall. I had only taken a couple of steps when an ice-cold hand clamped down on my arm. “Cora, what in God’s name are you trying to do?” I didn’t answer. My eyes scanned the area, searching for a more efficient way to die. The lake was out. Too easy to be rescued, and too much trouble for the rescuers. Jumping from a building wouldn’t work unless it was high enough. Bashing my head against a wall wasn’t a guarantee… “Cora, answer me!” My silence enraged Marcus. He let out a low growl, his voice trembling on the edge of a breakdown. “What is it you want? Was that a threat? Were you trying to scare us? Let me tell you, Cora, threatening suicide is the most pathetic tactic there is! Do you think we’ll just give in to you? In your dreams!” His shouting made my ears ring, but strangely, I felt a laugh bubbling up inside me. See? People who don’t love you will see you hanging from a rope and think you’re just playing on a swing. Ignoring my struggles, Marcus dragged me into his car. He was soaking wet, his lips a deep shade of purple from the cold. But he seemed oblivious to it, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other clamped around my wrist like a manacle. I tried to pull away, my voice calm. “Let go.” He didn’t. His grip only tightened. “Cora, Mom and Dad are waiting for us. You said you wanted to go to Disneyland, remember? I’ll buy the tickets in a few days. We’ll all go as a family.” A humorless smile twisted my lips. “Is Sophie going?” His fingers tightened on my wrist. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “I’ll keep an eye on her.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. My laughter darkened his expression. “Cora, you don’t need to compete with Sophie. You—” I didn’t let him finish. I lunged for the steering wheel. The car swerved wildly on the empty road. Marcus’s voice cracked with terror. “Cora! Are you insane?” “We’re going to crash!” Perfect. A quick end for both of us. Dying with him was disgusting, but taking one of them with me felt like a fair trade. Fueled by that thought, I yanked the wheel with all my might. The car fishtailed violently before veering sharply to the right, crashing into the median strip. The screech of tires echoed in the sudden silence that followed. But apparently, Marcus had slammed on the brakes in time. The impact wasn’t even hard enough to deploy the airbags. My head swam. I sighed. Another failure. What a shame. The first thing I did was reach for the door handle. Locked. Marcus slumped in the driver’s seat, his face a ghastly shade of white. After a long moment, he turned to me, the corners of his eyes red, his voice a raw, broken whisper. “You really… want to die that badly? Even if… it means taking me with you?” I clutched my aching head, not even bothering to look at him. “Marcus, why didn’t you just drown in that lake?” 4 Marcus didn’t say another word. He just drove, forcing me back to the Moreau estate. The dead silence between us lasted until we stepped through the front door and saw Sophie. She was dressed in a white sundress, her cheeks rosy. It was clear my absence had been good for her. Her eyes widened when she saw Marcus, then narrowed at me, her face immediately crumpling into its usual mask of tearful victimhood. “Sister Cora, my brother went all the way to get you… what did you do to him? How could he be—” “Shut up.” Marcus’s voice was hoarse and dry, but it carried an undeniable weight. Sophie’s eyes flew open in disbelief. Even our parents, who had hurried into the foyer, looked stunned. I turned my head, surprised. It was the first time I had ever heard Marcus speak to Sophie with anything less than gentle indulgence. His head was bowed, his normally ramrod-straight spine slumped with an uncharacteristic weariness. “It has nothing to do with Cora.” He looked up, his gaze sweeping over all of us. “From now on, don’t jump to conclusions about my business, or Cora’s. Especially you.” He fixed his eyes on her. “Sophie.” The color drained from Sophie’s face. Her lips trembled, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. But this time, her usual pitiable act was tinged with genuine panic and hurt. “Brother… you’re yelling at me… for her?” Just then, another voice, clear but sharp with anger, cut in. “Marcus! How could you say that to my sister?” I looked up. Another traitor. Rhys. The younger brother I had raised by hand before I was “rescued” by the Moreaus. He stormed down the stairs and planted himself protectively in front of Sophie. I could still see the ghost of the little boy he used to be in his features, but the look he gave me was pure, cold hostility. “Cora! What lies have you been telling about my sister now?” “She has always treated you like her real sister, putting up with all your moods! How can you be so vicious, trying to drive a wedge between her and Marcus? Can’t you stand to see any of us happy?” His words had barely faded when my hand connected with his cheek in a sharp slap. He staggered back, clutching his face, his eyes wide with shock. “Cora… you… you hit me?” I looked into his disbelieving eyes and gave him a careless smile. “So what if I did? With a mouth that filthy, aren’t you just begging for it?” Perhaps because I had never treated him this way before, his expression went blank, a familiar, wounded look creeping into his eyes. For a fleeting moment, I was transported back in time. I was ten, and Rhys was three. Our parents had died together in a car accident. Suddenly, I, a child who could barely care for herself, became the guardian of a toddler. The meager settlement money was quickly spent by relatives on the pretext of buying a burial plot. So I learned to act like an adult. I went to the market to pick up the rotten vegetable leaves the vendors threw away. I would cook a pot of watery porridge, so thin you could see your reflection. I’d drink the water off the top and give the thicker parts at the bottom to Rhys. When he was old enough for school, I knew there wasn’t enough money for both of us. So, after my own classes, I would scavenge for scraps to sell. I was chased by stray dogs and bullied by other scavengers. Back then, I was steeped in the sour stench of the junkyard. My classmates would pinch their noses when I came near. The smell felt like it had seeped into my very skin. So much so that when I first arrived at the Moreau’s house, my mother rushed to embrace me, but her arms only hovered around me for a second before quickly pulling away. Her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and she discreetly raised a hand to her nose. Rhys had seen my humiliation. As I stood there, frozen with shame, he reached out and squeezed my hand tightly. Then he stood in front of me and announced to the Moreau family that I was the best sister in the world, and if they dared to bully me, he would make them pay. That was the Rhys I knew. But a year after he and Sophie returned to the Moreau house, the best sister in the world became the worst. He was full of praise for Sophie and criticism for me. And now, this boy who constantly accused me of being manipulative and psychologically twisted, was looking at me with a rare flicker of hurt in his eyes. He stood there, head bowed, clutching his cheek, looking pathetic. His precious sister was clearly heartbroken for him. Sophie walked toward me, her voice trembling with perfectly modulated emotion. “Sister, please don’t be angry. Rhys is still young, he doesn’t know any better. He speaks without thinking. I’ll apologize to you on his behalf.” She reached out, as if to take my hand. “I didn’t raise him well. And I… I shouldn’t have come back. If my being here makes you so unhappy, if it’s tearing this family apart, I… I can leave again…” There it was. The same old act. As expected, our mother immediately wrapped a protective arm around her. “Sophie, don’t say such foolish things. This is your home.” Our father glared at me, his eyes full of warning. “Cora, don’t stir up trouble the moment you walk in the door.” I scanned the faces in the room. They were all clustered around Sophie, a protective circle. And there I was, standing alone in the entryway, an outsider who had never, not for a moment, belonged in this so-called family. The thought made me sigh. “You really are a loving family,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “So wonderfully, disgustingly alike.” They all stared at me, stunned. Sophie was the first to react. She tore herself from our mother’s grasp. “I’ll just die! I was a mistake from the beginning! If I die, everything will be clean again!” She ran to the nearby dining room, snatched a steak knife from the table, and held it to her wrist. “It’s all my fault…” “No! Sophie, put the knife down!” our mother shrieked, shooting me a look of pure hatred.

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