I fought tooth and nail to escape the human traffickers. But my little sister was left behind. My mother called me a cold-blooded monster. My father cut off my allowance and threatened to kick me out of the house. And my childhood sweetheart, the man who promised to marry me, locked me out in the dead of winter on our wedding night. Temperatures dropped well below zero. I froze to death on the unforgiving asphalt. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the rusted van. The day we were kidnapped. 1 I waited over a decade for my wedding with Noah. At four in the morning, the makeup artist joked that having my parents by my side would calm my pre-wedding jitters. But when they finally arrived at the venue, they were dressed entirely in mourning black. It was a grotesque contrast to the romantic pastel florals decorating the hall. My mother stared at me with eyes as cold as ice. “Your sister is still missing, and you expect us to celebrate? We haven’t had the stomach for a wedding in years. Every time we look at you, we remember how you abandoned her to save your own skin. It makes us sick. Do you have any conscience left at all, you ungrateful brat?” I froze, the breath knocked out of my lungs. Years ago, my sister was taken, and I barely escaped. I dragged my bloodied, bruised body all the way home, desperate to collapse into my parents’ arms and just cry. Instead, I was met with absolute disgust. “How do you have the nerve to come back alone? You’re the older sister! Why didn’t you protect her? Having a daughter like you is a disgrace.” They never found her. From that day on, I ceased to exist to them. They stopped asking about my grades. They skipped my parent-teacher conferences. The dining table only ever had two plates set. My bedroom became a storage closet for junk, and my framed photos were tossed into the trash. The cruelest part was the financial cutoff. They refused to pay my tuition or even buy my groceries. I worked three part-time jobs just to survive, sleeping barely four hours a night. I used to tell myself it was just their grief talking. I thought the pain of losing a child had temporarily blinded them. I was wrong. Years had passed. And on the most important day of my life, they still chose to carve my heart out with their venomous words. Blinking back the burning tears, I looked up at the altar. Noah was waiting for me. We had grown up together. He was a sickly kid, constantly bullied in school, and I spent nine years being his fierce protector. The day we graduated high school, he held my hands and made a solemn vow. “You protected me for nine years, Riley. Now, I’m going to protect you for the rest of our lives.” He was my true family. Even without my parents’ blessing, I thought I still had him. Trembling with nerves and hope, I stepped up to the altar, waiting for the man I loved to slip the ring onto my finger. Instead, his hand cracked across my cheek. The slap echoed through the silent chapel. “I’ve waited years for this,” Noah hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “I’m doing this for the woman I actually love. If you weren’t such a selfish coward, she wouldn’t be out there suffering. Actions have consequences, Riley. I hate you.” My bouquet hit the marble floor. My knees buckled, and I collapsed right there in my white gown. My dream wedding was nothing but a meticulously planned humiliation. That night, he threw me out into the street. The blizzard was howling, temperatures dropping deep into the negatives. I was wearing nothing but a thin silk nightgown. Even my own parents refused to open their door when I dragged myself to their porch, pleading for shelter. With nowhere left to go, the winter claimed me. I died curled up on the frozen concrete. Then, I blinked. I was back in the suffocating darkness of the kidnappers’ van. The two men had just stepped out to grab smokes from a gas station. In my past life, my sister Lily and I used this exact window of time to whisper a plan. We pretended to be unconscious, waited for them to lower their guard, and fought our way out. I made it. But after running for miles, I realized Lily had frozen in terror and never left the van. I refused to let history repeat itself. The men climbed back in. Lily and I kept our eyes shut, playing dead. Half an hour later, they dragged us out to hand us over to a buyer. Just like last time, I let out a feral scream and launched myself forward. But this time, I didn’t run for the trees. I tackled the man holding Lily. The distraction worked. She broke free and sprinted into the woods. The trafficker was furious. He kicked me hard in the ribs. “You got a death wish, crazy bitch? Was it worth it? She didn’t even look back at you!” Blood filled my mouth, coating my teeth in a metallic tang. But I just tilted my head back and laughed. My ticket to a billionaire empire was right here. 2 On the night I was thrown out in my past life, a massive news story was broadcasting on every billboard in the city. The White family, the wealthiest dynasty in the state, had finally found their missing heir after a decade. They had offered a hundred-million-dollar bounty for his safe return. By some twisted stroke of luck, Lily had been sold to the exact same rural household where Rowan White was trapped. When people saw the news, the gossip spread like wildfire. “Can you believe that girl got sold to the same house as the White heir? Talk about a golden ticket. The Whites could make her royalty with a snap of their fingers.” “I heard the family bought luxury penthouses in every major city just hoping he’d come home.” “Hell, they said whoever brings him back practically gets the keys to the entire White empire.” Luck had landed right in Lily’s lap. But because of the trauma from his kidnapping, Rowan suffered from severe hysteria. His mind was shattered. He acted like a shell of a person. Lily despised him. She called him a r*tard, bullied him relentlessly, and beat him whenever she was frustrated. When the black SUVs finally rolled in and his true identity was revealed, Lily dropped to her knees, sobbing and begging for his forgiveness. But Rowan’s mind had cleared. He looked at her with pure disgust and threw her off him. The whole city laughed at her stupidity. “Imagine having a billionaire heir right in front of you and treating him like garbage. Bet she’s crying blood now.” “Some people are just born losers. You could hand her a diamond, and she’d throw it in the mud.” Remembering those words, I looked at the boy sitting across from me in the damp cellar. His eyes were vacant, his expression entirely hollow. I swallowed hard. This guy wasn’t just a person. He was a walking gold mine. I leaned in close, keeping my voice soft and hypnotic. “Your name is Rowan. Your real home is by the ocean. Your parents have been tearing the world apart looking for you. Listen to me, and I promise to take you home.” He muttered the word “home” under his breath, staring blankly at the dirt floor. The evening sun bled through the cracked window. Even buried under dirt and malnutrition, his sharp jawline and striking features were impossible to hide. A single ray of light caught his dark eyes. Slowly, he nodded. My heart hammered against my ribs. I started massaging his temples, working down to his neck, shoulders, and the pressure points in his feet. I wanted to soothe his frayed nervous system. I had picked up this holistic acupressure technique from an old physical therapist back in high school. The old man was a miracle worker who had helped plenty of veterans with severe PTSD. Just as I hoped, the tension melted out of Rowan’s muscles, and he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. For the next two years, Rowan and I played a dangerous game of survival. His adoptive mother was a nightmare. She bought him hoping for a son, only to realize his mind was broken. She took all her bitter resentment out on him, which was exactly why his trauma never healed in my past life. She eventually scraped enough money together to buy me, hoping I’d give her a grandson. Unfortunately for her, she bought the wrong girl. I made sure her twisted dreams never came true. As the months dragged on, her temper grew violently short. “Did I pay good money for a barren hen? You’re nothing but bad luck.” I just smirked in the shadows. Whenever she raised a hand to strike Rowan, I threw myself in front of him and took the hit. Whenever she ordered him to break his back in the fields, I snatched the tools from his hands and did the labor myself. When she starved him, I stole food from the kitchen and fed him in secret. Every single night, I gave him acupressure therapy and fed him herbal remedies I scavenged from the woods. Then, one morning, exactly two years later, Rowan sat up in bed. The fog in his eyes was gone. They were sharp, intelligent, and crystal clear. He was back. Rowan smuggled us out of that hellhole the very next night. When we walked into the towering glass lobby of the White Corporation, his identical resemblance to his father sent shockwaves through the entire board of directors. The White patriarch immediately wired an astronomical sum into my bank account and promised to fulfill any request I had. Rowan didn’t say a word to the press. Instead, he quietly transferred his entire share of the company into my name and promised me the most magnificent wedding the city had ever seen. I went from freezing in the gutters to being treated like absolute royalty. Looking into Rowan’s fiercely loyal eyes, I knew he was nothing like Noah. Wedding preparations began immediately. One afternoon, while I was at an exclusive bridal boutique trying on gowns, I heard a sickeningly familiar voice drifting from the fitting room next door. “Noah, baby, it really is destiny that we made it to the altar.” Noah chuckled, his voice thick with affection. “If Riley hadn’t been kidnapped, I might have missed out on you completely.” Lily giggled, a sweet, poisonous sound. “Then I hope she never comes back. Honestly, nobody wants to see her again anyway. Everyone’s so much happier without her.” It was almost laughable. Noah and I had been promised to each other since we were kids. I thought we were deeply in love. I had no idea they had been sneaking around behind my back for years. My kidnapping didn’t ruin Noah’s life. It just made things more convenient for him. Then, I heard my father. The man who rarely smiled let out a booming laugh. “Who cares if Riley comes back? You two are a match made in heaven. If she ever shows her face, she can just stand back and watch how happy you are.” My mother chimed in, agreeing warmly. What a perfectly happy little family. In my past life, when Lily went missing, they blamed me until the day I died. But this time? I had been kidnapped for two entire years. They didn’t put up a single missing person flyer. They didn’t ask the police a single question. We shared the same blood. How could a mother and father be so utterly, disgustingly biased? I ground my teeth together, grabbed the velvet curtain of their fitting room, and ripped it back. I stepped right into their little family reunion. Lily screamed and fell backward onto the plush carpet. My parents, who had been lounging on the velvet sofas, shot up in pure horror. Noah stood completely frozen, his eyes wide enough to fall out of his skull. Before I could even open my mouth, my mother’s shock morphed into fury. She marched forward and slapped me hard across the cheek. “You heartless wretch! If you managed to crawl back, why didn’t you call us? Do you have zero respect for this family?” Lily scrambled up, eyeing my dress with a mix of suspicion and greed. “That gown looks expensive. Did you latch onto some old sugar daddy to survive?” Noah looked slightly guilty at first, but after hearing Lily’s comment, his gaze turned judgmental. He looked me up and down with deep disappointment. “Even if I don’t love you anymore, Riley, you shouldn’t degrade yourself like this.” Lily immediately flagged down the boutique manager. She pointed at me and threw a tantrum, demanding I take the dress off so she could try it on. The manager took one look at the red handprint blooming on my cheek and looked like she was about to pass out from pure panic. But Lily was oblivious. She actually reached out and tried to yank the delicate lace off my shoulder. The manager shrieked and shoved herself between us, shielding me with her own body. “Ma’am, please step back! This gown is completely bespoke, designed specifically for Miss Riley. It is a one-of-a-kind masterpiece, and it is priceless!” Lily crossed her arms and scoffed. “Excuse me? Are you implying I can’t afford it?” Noah adjusted his cuffs, trying to look wealthy. “It’s just a dress. How much could it possibly be?” My mother looked at me with absolute disdain. “Riley, it’s just a piece of fabric. You’re the older sister. Isn’t it your job to give things up for Lily?” There it was again. Give it up. Because I was older, I had to bleed for her. In kindergarten, Lily couldn’t make friends, so my parents forced me to give her my friend group and isolate myself. In elementary school, there was a field trip I had been looking forward to for months. Lily wanted to go, so they secretly called the school and swapped my name for hers. By high school, I wore the same threadbare uniform every single day because they had given all my extra sets to her. And now, they wanted me to strip off my own wedding dress and hand it over. They wanted me to hand over my entire life to her.

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1 My fiancé Alex insisted on marrying me despite his entire family’s furious objections. I grew up counting pennies, while he was the sole heir to one of Manhattan’s wealthiest old-money empires. He used to hold my face in his hands, his eyes burning with absolute certainty, and tell me I was the only woman he would ever love. He swore he just wanted a simple life with me. Everyone in our circle told me I had hit the jackpot. They said I had found true love. I believed them. Until Alex’s birthday. I finished my business trip early and rushed back to the city, wanting to surprise him at his penthouse. Instead, I unlocked the door to find him tangled up with my best friend. Alex had Harper wrapped tightly in his arms. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his voice thick with affection. “With Judith gone, I finally get to take care of you. You have no idea how much I missed you.” Harper giggled softly, leaning into his chest. “We finally have the place to ourselves,” Alex murmured, burying his face in her neck. “You have no idea how exhausting it is putting on an act for her every single day. You owe me a massive compensation for my hard work.” … Those words carved out my insides. I stood frozen in the foyer, my lungs forgetting how to take in air. To marry me, Alex had gone to war with his family. When his mother threatened to disinherit him and groom his younger cousin for the CEO position instead, Alex didn’t even flinch. He told her I was his soulmate and he would rather be dead than live without me. Now, he was standing in our living room, calling our entire relationship an exhausting act. His Persian cat trotted over from the corner, rubbing affectionately against my ankles with a soft purr. The sound made Harper look up. She froze. My eyes drifted to her wrist. She was wearing a braided wooden bead bracelet. My fingertips went numb. Last year, Alex got into a horrific wreck while racing his sports car. Terrified of losing him, I flew to a secluded monastery in the mountains and climbed nine hundred and ninety-nine stone steps on my bleeding knees just to get that protection bracelet blessed by the monks. A month later, he apologized and said it got snagged on a door and snapped. I offered to go back and get him another one. Alex laughed it off, calling it superstitious garbage. He said he hated wearing cheap accessories anyway. Seeing me standing there, all the color drained from Harper’s face. She scrambled out of Alex’s embrace and rushed toward me, her voice trembling. “Judith, what are you doing home so early?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “I got violently ill this morning and had no one to call. I reached out to Alex because I was desperate. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to panic while you were working!” My voice came out hollow and cold. “Since when does a fever require a make-out session to diagnose?” Harper’s pale face somehow turned even whiter. “It’s not what it looks like!” “Please don’t misunderstand,” she pleaded, grabbing my sleeve. “He was just using his forehead to check my temperature because I couldn’t find a thermometer!” I looked at her, letting out a dry, bitter laugh. Did she really think I was completely brain-dead? My gaze swept across the living room and landed on the coffee table. A framed Polaroid of Alex and Harper, cheek to cheek, sat right next to the remote. Harper followed my eyes and immediately launched into another frantic excuse. “There’s this married guy at work who won’t stop harassing me! I told him I had a boyfriend, but he wouldn’t believe me. I begged Alex to take a fake couple photo with me just so I could show it to the creep at the office. I was going to tear it up tomorrow, I swear!” She started crying, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. “Judith, you have to believe me. I’m your best friend. I would never betray you.” Alex, who had been completely silent, finally walked over and pulled Harper behind him, shielding her from me. He reached for my suitcase, his face slipping effortlessly back into the gentle, loving mask I knew so well. “You always hate wearing those heels on flights. Come on, let me help you take them off and I’ll rub your feet.” He crouched down, reaching for my ankle. But the moment his fingers brushed my skin, Harper let out a tiny, wounded gasp and turned her face away. Alex’s hands froze. He immediately stood up and took two steps back. He turned to me, his tone shifting into polite detachment. “You should probably head to a hotel for the night. Harper is still really sick, and I need to drive her back to her place and make sure she’s settled.” I stared at the cold distance in his eyes and cut straight to the point. “What were you two doing just now?” Alex frowned, looking annoyed. “Harper just explained everything to you.” I smiled, though my chest felt like it was caving in. “Alex, are you both just actively insulting my intelligence right now?” The moment those words left my mouth, Harper burst into dramatic sobs. “Judith, I just felt so awful and wanted a tiny bit of comfort. I’m so sorry if I crossed a boundary. Please, I’m apologizing to you, just don’t be mad at him.” Alex’s brow furrowed, a flash of genuine heartache crossing his face as he looked at her crying. I stood in the center of the beautiful apartment we shared, overwhelmed by a bone-deep exhaustion. I had worked hundred-hour weeks, sleeping barely three hours a night, just to close my project early so I could fly back and celebrate his birthday. And my reward was finding out my entire life was a lie. I looked at Alex, my voice barely a whisper. “We’re done. Let’s break up.” Alex’s head snapped toward me, his eyes wide. “Judith, the wedding invitations are already out. You can’t just throw out a word like ‘breakup’ over a stupid misunderstanding.” I slid the custom diamond ring off my finger and shoved it into his chest. “Keep the ring.” The room fell into a suffocating silence. I didn’t waste another second looking at them. I turned on my heel and walked out the door. Alex took a step forward to chase me, but Harper suddenly let out a loud, devastated wail. “Alex, how did things get this messed up?” Alex stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, pulling Harper tightly into his chest, whispering soft comforts into her hair. The moment I got to a hotel, I posted a brief message on my social media announcing the cancellation of the wedding and the end of our relationship. I didn’t sugarcoat the reason. Within minutes, my phone blew up. Our entire friend circle was in absolute shock. Harper obviously saw the post. My phone started vibrating endlessly with her calls and messages. “Judith, please don’t be impulsive! You can’t just cancel a wedding like this!” “Pick up the phone! I already explained everything, why won’t you just trust me?” “Take the post down right now! Do you know how bad this makes me look? What are people going to think of me?” I blocked her number without a second thought. An hour later, an unknown number called me. I picked it up, and Harper’s hysterical sobbing blasted through the speaker. “Judith, I’m on the roof of your apartment building! I’m so sorry for everything. Please, just tell me you forgive me.” She took a ragged breath. “If you don’t forgive me right now, I’m going to jump.” Through the phone, I could hear the howling of the wind. I sprinted up the stairwell of my building and pushed the heavy metal door open to the roof. Harper was standing on the very edge of the parapet, swaying dangerously over the drop. Before I could even speak, Alex burst through the stairwell doors behind me, his face pale with absolute terror. He lunged forward and physically dragged Harper away from the ledge, throwing them both onto the concrete roof. “Are you out of your damn mind?” Alex screamed, shaking her by the shoulders. “If you jumped, what the hell was I supposed to do?” Harper sobbed harder, clinging to his shirt. “I just wanted to apologize! I needed Judith to forgive me! Everyone on Instagram is calling me a homewrecker and a slut! I can’t live like this!” Alex turned his head and glared at me. His eyes were practically spitting daggers. “She is supposed to be your best friend, Judith! Are you really going to force her to kill herself over your petty jealousy?” I stared at him, finding the entire situation absolutely absurd. “What does her wanting to die have to do with me?” The second the words left my mouth, Harper violently shoved Alex away and threw herself toward the ledge again. I sidestepped, and she tumbled over the low wall. Alex screamed, his voice cracking with raw panic. He scrambled down the stairs like a madman. I had already called emergency services the second she threatened me on the phone. The fire department had inflated a massive rescue cushion on the street below. Harper was perfectly fine, aside from a few minor scratches on her arms. Alex hovered over her on the sidewalk, trembling as he checked every inch of her body for broken bones. When he finally realized she was safe, he let out a massive breath. He carefully scooped her unconscious body into his arms to carry her to his car. Before he walked away, he turned to me with a look of pure venom. “If she suffers any lasting damage from this, I swear to God I will destroy you.” I stood on the sidewalk, my heart stinging as if it had been repeatedly pierced by needles. Even though I already knew the truth about them, Alex’s blatant favoritism still felt like a physical blow. I was his fiancée, yet I meant absolutely nothing compared to her. Against my better judgment, I took a cab to the hospital. I sat alone on a plastic chair in the sterile hallway, looking at the bloody crescent-shaped scratch marks Harper’s acrylic nails had left on my wrist during her little stunt. I quietly dabbed antibiotic ointment onto my skin. Alex walked out of her room and stopped when he saw me. His eyes dropped to my bleeding wrist. His dark brows pulled together. “How did you get hurt?” He reached out to inspect the scratches, his tone softening, instantly reverting to the gentle fiancé I thought I knew. “Harper is stable. You don’t need to worry anymore.” He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “The only reason I spend so much time with her is because she’s your best friend. There is absolutely nothing romantic between us. I only took care of her today because I knew you would want me to. “Stop throwing a tantrum, Judith. The wedding is still on. You know exactly how much blood I shed fighting my family for you. I sacrificed everything to make you my wife. How could you just abandon me?” He paused, lowering his voice into a coaxing whisper. “I’ll buy you that historic brownstone in Brooklyn. The one you loved. You’ve always wanted to move your mom out of her old neighborhood, right? Consider it an apology for the misunderstanding today. I’ll put the deed entirely in your name. You know I hate seeing you upset.” I looked at him, feeling a wave of intense disgust. Did he honestly think this was about real estate? Alex continued, completely oblivious to my silence. “But I do have one condition.” “This entire mess started because of your social media post. Harper nearly died because of you. You need to go in there and give her a sincere apology. She has no family in the city. I want you to stay at the hospital and nurse her back to health. It’s the perfect opportunity for you two to clear the air. “I’m doing this for your own good, Judith. I’d hate to see you throw away a lifelong friendship over nothing.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Wow. You really are so generous. Always looking out for me.” Months ago, I told him I wanted to buy a small condo for my mom so she could retire comfortably. I planned to use my own savings and explicitly told him I didn’t want a dime of his money. But Alex had frowned, looking deeply disappointed. “Judith, my mother already thinks you’re a gold digger. If you empty your bank accounts to buy property for your mother right before the wedding, my family is going to think you’re extremely calculating, secretly securing an escape route in case we divorce.” I hadn’t wanted to make his life harder, so I abandoned the idea entirely. My mom stayed in her rundown apartment. But now, to protect Harper’s reputation, he was casually offering me a multi-million-dollar brownstone. And he had the nerve to package it as an act of love. He really did think I was an absolute idiot. I looked him dead in the eye, my voice turning to ice. “Alex, I already told you I am not marrying you. We are broken up. Do you lack basic reading comprehension?” “If you care about her so much, you stay here and play nurse. Why the hell should I be her unpaid maid? And I will rot in hell before I apologize to her.” Alex’s patience finally snapped. His face darkened with irritation. “Stop being so incredibly ungrateful.” “She threw herself off a building to prove her innocence! She almost lost her life! She values your friendship so much, and you’re acting like a cold-blooded sociopath. You deliberately dragged her name through the mud, making the whole world think she’s some home-wrecking slut, and you think you don’t owe her an apology?” I stared right through him. “I don’t owe her a damn thing.” “You two created this mess. You want to talk about innocence? If she isn’t the other woman, why were your lips on her face?” Realizing his gaslighting wasn’t working, Alex’s jaw clenched in fury. “I won’t let you do this for free. I will write you a blank check. Name your price. Just go online, tell everyone you made the whole thing up, and clear her name. I will give you anything you want.” Without a word, I unscrewed the cap of the iodine bottle in my hand and splashed the dark brown liquid straight across his pristine designer shirt. I turned and walked away. I should have seen the red flags years ago. I was just too blind and stupid, letting myself get played for a fool. Alex cared about Harper’s tears more than he ever cared about my heart. Behind me, Alex shouted, his voice echoing down the hall. “You are going to regret this, Judith!” I walked back to my apartment, standing alone by the window, watching the city lights flicker below. I remembered the very first time I met Alex. I was grabbing coffee near my office building. He bumped into me, spilling my iced latte all over my silk blouse. He immediately asked for my number to pay for the dry cleaning and insisted on taking me to dinner to apologize. I told him not to worry about it. The next day, he was standing in the lobby of my building with a massive bouquet of imported roses. He looked at me with that charming, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Judith. I actually bumped into you on purpose. I’m just a little clueless when it comes to dating, and I couldn’t think of any other excuse to talk to you.” Looking at his handsome face, my foolish heart had skipped a beat. Alex didn’t know this, but I had recognized him instantly. He was the golden boy of my university, two years above me. I had harbored a massive crush on him back in college. I thought the universe was finally giving me a miracle. We started dating. Everything felt like a dream. A few months later, Harper practically dragged me to a bar, grinning mischievously. “Judith, there’s this amazing guy in my social circle I need you to meet.” When she introduced Alex, I was shocked, but thrilled. I thought it was destiny that my boyfriend was already friends with my best friend. Looking back now, the breadcrumbs were everywhere. The next afternoon, I went back to the hospital to pick up a prescription for my mother. As I passed the emergency stairwell, a familiar voice caught my attention. It was Harper. “Alex, Judith already knows about us. What are we going to do? Is she still going to marry you?” “If she calls off the wedding, what happens to us?” Alex’s voice was low and steady. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she goes through with it.” “Judith is naïve. I’ll just throw some money at her, say a few sweet things, and she’ll fall back in line.” Harper sniffled, a hint of desperate hope in her voice. “Why don’t you just let her go? We can get married right now. I don’t care what your family thinks, I’m not afraid of them as long as I have you.” Alex shot the idea down immediately. “No. I need to marry Judith first. My mother is a vicious elitist. She will never accept a girl without a massive trust fund. I need to let her take all her rage and hatred out on Judith.” “Once my mother has tortured Judith for a few years and gotten it out of her system, I’ll file for divorce. By the time I bring you home as my second wife, my mother will be too exhausted to put up a fight.” “I refuse to let my mother treat you like trash. I need Judith to absorb all the damage. It’s the only way to guarantee you’ll have an easy, peaceful life in my family.” I stood frozen in the hallway, the blood in my veins turning to ice. So this was the grand master plan. Through the crack in the door, I watched Harper stand on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. She let out a breathy sigh. “You’re so good to me, Alex. You really planned out our entire future.” Alex wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tightly it looked like he wanted to merge their souls. They stayed tangled together for a long time. Finally, Alex pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes with burning intensity. “You know I love you, Harper. Everything I do with Judith is just a performance. Every move I make is to protect you.” I stood in the sterile white hallway, and a sudden, sharp laugh clawed its way out of my throat. Alex’s head snapped toward the door. He saw me standing there. All the blood vanished from his face. “Judith.” I gripped the plastic pharmacy bag in my hand, turned my back on them, and walked away.

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I wrapped up my corporate project in London early and flew straight back to the States. I didn’t tell a soul. I originally planned to swing by my little sister’s private high school to pick her up and give her a massive surprise. But the second I walked up to the back doors of the school auditorium, I overheard a group of girls laughing viciously. “Ann is completely shameless. Her mom is literally just a maid sponsored by the Frost family, and she walks around acting like she is some elite heiress.” “I know, right? Chloe Frost is way too nice. Her family literally feeds and houses Ann, and she doesn’t even have the decency to be grateful.” “I heard Ann even tried to steal Chloe’s spot for the state academic decathlon. Poor kids are always so manipulative.” My blood ran cold. Ann is my biological sister. Chloe is the daughter of our family’s live in housekeeper. But somehow, the entire prep school was under the absolute delusion that Chloe was the Frost family’s second daughter, and that my actual sister was a charity case. I pulled out my phone and dialed my lead corporate attorney in New York. “I need you to launch a full background investigation.” “I want to know exactly who stole my little sister’s identity while I was out of the country, and how long they have been getting away with it.” 1 I stared down at the text message my sister had sent me two hours ago. “Hey Molly, my school is hosting a charity symposium today. I’m going to be speaking on stage as a student volunteer!” I tapped the privacy glass dividing the luxury SUV. “Change of plans. Take me to St. Jude’s Preparatory Academy.” St. Jude’s was the most exclusive, astronomically expensive private high school in the state. When our parents originally enrolled Ann there, they specifically requested a strict privacy protocol. Only the Headmaster and the Board of Directors had access to her actual family background. My dad always said, “Children shouldn’t be defined by their family’s net worth.” My mom agreed. “It is better to keep a low profile. It is safer that way.” The symposium had just wrapped up, and students were filtering out of the auditorium in small groups. A few girls were gossiping near the exit. “Did you see the way Ann stood on stage today? I swear, she actually thinks she is a Frost.” “How could she possibly be a Frost? Chloe already told us. Ann’s mom used to be a maid for the Frost family. The Frosts just felt bad for her, so they sponsored her tuition.” “Chloe is honestly an angel. If a parasite like that lived in my house, my parents would have kicked her to the curb years ago.” Another girl let out a mocking scoff. “And did you see her outfit? So plain and boring. Who is she trying to impress with that ‘innocent poor girl’ aesthetic? If it wasn’t for the Frost family’s charity, she would never even step foot in St. Jude’s.” Just then, a girl wearing a pristine white designer blazer walked out of the auditorium doors. Someone immediately handed her a customized iced latte. “Chloe, your speech was absolutely amazing today!” Chloe offered a soft, demure smile. “Oh, stop. I didn’t do anything special. I was just speaking on behalf of my family’s foundation.” “You are way too humble! The Frost family is famous for their philanthropy. No wonder you are so classy.” Chloe lowered her eyelashes, her voice dripping with manufactured sweetness. “Please don’t say things like that. If Ann hears you, she will just get upset again.” The expressions on the surrounding girls’ faces instantly turned hostile. “Why the hell would she be upset? Your family basically pays for her entire life.” “Seriously. She always gives you such a nasty attitude.” “Chloe, you are way too soft. You let people walk all over you.” Chloe. The daughter of our housekeeper, Martha. When Chloe was little, she lived with Martha in the staff quarters attached to the Frost estate. My sister, Ann, always had a heart of gold. Whenever she got something new, she would immediately share half of it with Chloe. I distinctly remembered the day Chloe first arrived at the estate. She hid timidly behind Martha’s apron, looking up at me with wide eyes, softly calling me “Molly.” I finally spotted Ann. She was walking out of a side exit, her head completely lowered, looking incredibly small. I didn’t immediately walk over to her. If Ann saw me right now, she would panic. Her biggest fear in the world was causing trouble for our family. I turned on my heel, walked to the end of the corridor, and stopped a guy who was walking by himself. “Excuse me, do you have a second? I’m visiting from another school. I overheard some people talking about the Frost Foundation. Is that Chloe Frost’s family?” The guy gave me a quick once over. Seeing that I didn’t look like a strict teacher or an angry parent, he relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah, exactly. She’s the youngest daughter of the Frost family.” I offered a polite smile. “Are you absolutely sure about that?” “Duh. It’s not exactly a secret.” He pointed out the window toward the VIP pickup lane. “A massive Frost family SUV drops her off every morning. Her Instagram is flooded with pictures inside the Frost mega mansion. Catered galas, private chauffeurs, estate managers… she has it all.” He paused, lowering his voice like he was sharing an inside secret. “But honestly, she is super low key about it. She never explicitly brags. Whenever people call her the Frost heiress, she just blushes and tells us to stop making a big deal out of it.” “What about Ann?” I asked smoothly. The guy’s expression instantly soured. “Oh, her? Word is Chloe’s family sponsors her tuition. Chloe is a saint; she practically babysits her. But Ann is incredibly toxic. She always walks around with a massive chip on her shoulder, acting like everyone owes her something.” When I got back into the luxury SUV, I immediately dialed my executive assistant in New York. “I need a complete digital forensics sweep on a girl named Chloe. I want the last three years of her social media archives, every IP address linked to anonymous posts on the St. Jude’s student forum, the GPS logs for the family vehicles, and the security access logs for her mother, our housekeeper Martha.” My assistant hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Ms. Frost, has something happened?” I stared out the tinted window of the SUV. Heavy raindrops began sliding down the glass. Near the auditorium doors, Ann was standing entirely alone, holding a cheap umbrella. Meanwhile, Chloe was surrounded by a massive entourage of admiring students as she climbed into the back of a pristine Frost family SUV. That specific SUV was originally dispatched today to pick up my sister. My voice dropped to absolute zero. “No, nothing happened.” “Someone just decided they don’t want to live anymore.” 2 Chloe was incredibly manipulative. She never made absolute, verifiable statements. She took our family SUV to school. When classmates asked, “Is that your family’s car?” She would smile warmly and say, “The driver just happened to be heading this way today.” Everyone immediately assumed that meant the driver worked for her family. She wore a vintage cashmere coat that Ann had given her out of pity. She would casually adjust the designer cuffs in front of her friends. “My mom is always complaining about how messy my walk in closet is. She keeps threatening to donate my clothes if I don’t wear them.” She posted a selfie inside the massive Frost estate greenhouse. The caption read: “Mom is yelling at me to come inside for dinner.” In the corner of the photo, she deliberately captured a sliver of the dining room’s antique crystal chandelier. That specific chandelier was a one of a kind piece my mother won at an exclusive auction in Milan. She attended the annual Frost Corporate Charity Gala. In reality, she was only allowed in the building because she followed Martha and the catering staff through the service entrance. Yet, she managed to sneak into the main ballroom and snap a photo. In the background of the shot, you could clearly see the back of my father’s head as he spoke with the Board of Directors. The caption read: “Forced to listen to boring adult business talk again.” The next morning, my assistant emailed me a massive encrypted dossier. Sitting in the study of my luxury hotel suite, I scrolled through the pages, my blood pressure spiking with every click. On the St. Jude’s anonymous student forum, there was a burner account that had been posting consistently since freshman year. “Is it just me, or does a certain ‘sponsored’ charity case act incredibly entitled?” “Imagine living in the guest quarters of your benefactor’s estate and actually thinking you own the place.” “Let’s expose the girl who uses someone else’s money to get into St. Jude’s, and then treats her actual sponsor like trash.” The posts never explicitly named Ann. But they always included subtle, cropped photos of Ann’s silhouette, her backpack, or her assigned desk. In the comments, people constantly asked if the posts were about Ann. The original poster would reply: “I never named names. If the shoe fits, wear it.” The IP address and the recovery phone number linked to that burner account matched Chloe’s personal cell phone perfectly. Then came the screenshots from the class group chats. A student had texted: “Chloe, why does your family even sponsor Ann? She acts like she completely despises you.” Chloe had replied with a sad, teary eyed emoji. “Please don’t say that guys. Ann isn’t a bad person, she is just a little insecure.” “She grew up around us, so she probably just really wants to fit in and feel like she belongs.” “My mom always tells me I need to be the bigger person and let her have her way.” I scrolled to the very end of the dossier and found the academic decathlon records. Last year, during the National Bio Modeling Competition, Ann had spent three grueling months compiling an incredibly detailed binder of study notes. Out of the goodness of her heart, she let Chloe photocopy them. A week later, Chloe stood at the front of the classroom, using those exact notes to explain complex bio models to the rest of the class. The students praised her for being a genius. She just laughed softly. “It’s nothing, really. Ann struggles with the foundational stuff, so I tutor her all the time. I just threw these notes together to help her out.” That year, Ann scored the absolute highest in the school’s preliminary rounds. But the school’s sole recommendation slot for the state finals was given to Chloe. The official reasoning on the school’s document was: “Demonstrates superior peer leadership and serves as a better holistic representative of the Academy.” I stared at that specific line of text until my eyes burned. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed the head of the science department. “Who is speaking?” “Hello, I am Ann’s older sister. I’m calling to get a better understanding of her academic standing and overall situation at the school.” The teacher paused for a long moment. “Ah, Ann. Well, her grades are certainly impressive, but her personality is quite… difficult. She is incredibly withdrawn. We have been trying to counsel her, to teach her the value of gratitude. She really needs to stop aggressively competing with Chloe.” I let out a dark, humorless laugh. “Competing?” “Exactly,” the teacher sighed heavily. “Chloe’s family has provided Ann with so many unbelievable opportunities, but Ann completely lacks self awareness. Whether it comes to academic decathlons or extracurricular resources, Ann always acts like she is entitled to the absolute best.” “And why exactly shouldn’t she be?” The teacher was visibly stunned by my tone. “That is not what I meant. It is just that given her… specific socioeconomic background, the administration prefers she maintains a lower, more stable profile. Chloe, on the other hand, is…” She caught herself and stopped talking. I finished the sentence for her. “She fits your stereotype of a Frost heiress much better, doesn’t she?” Dead silence on the other end of the line. I hung up the phone. Half an hour later, I drove to Ann’s off campus apartment. To spare her the exhaustion of commuting from the main estate, my parents had purchased a luxury condo near the school. On paper, it was registered under the Frost Foundation’s real estate portfolio. It was another layer of privacy protection. But according to the vicious rumors spreading through the school, it was “the charity housing the Frost family provided for the maid’s daughter.” The second the door unlocked, Ann froze in the entryway. “Molly?” Her eyes instantly welled up with tears. But almost immediately, sheer panic washed over her face. She frantically looked past my shoulder into the hallway. “Why are you back? Do Mom and Dad know? Did you go to the school? Did anyone see you?” My heart completely shattered. I stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. “Ann, look at me. Tell me exactly what you are so terrified of.” Her entire body went rigid. It took her a long time to whisper, “I’m not terrified.” I pulled back slightly, locking my eyes onto hers. “Then look me in the eye and explain why Chloe is taking our family’s SUV to school.” The color violently drained from her face. “Molly…” “Explain why she stole your spot in the academic decathlon.” “Explain why the entire school thinks you are the maid’s daughter.” Her lips trembled violently, and the tears finally spilled over. “I tried to explain,” she choked out. “But nobody believed me.” 3 Ann’s explanation was a chaotic, heartbroken mess. When they both enrolled as freshmen, Ann and Chloe actually commuted to school together. At that point, Martha had been working as a housekeeper for the Frost family for over a decade. My mother, appreciating Martha’s loyalty and feeling sympathetic that she was raising a daughter as a single mom, arranged for Chloe to attend St. Jude’s under a Frost Foundation scholarship. The Frost family covered her tuition, uniforms, textbooks, and all associated fees. In the beginning, Ann was genuinely thrilled. She thought having someone she knew at the intimidating prep school would mean she wouldn’t have to face it alone. Eventually, classmates started asking how they knew each other. Before Ann could even open her mouth, Chloe jumped in with a bright smile. “We grew up together! We are practically family.” Technically, the statement wasn’t a lie. But it allowed the listeners’ imaginations to fill in the blanks. The very first time a classmate referred to Chloe as “the Frost heiress,” Chloe didn’t correct them. She just acted incredibly bashful and whispered, “Please don’t call me that out loud, it will make Ann feel super awkward.” From that moment on, Ann became the awkward burden. Whenever Ann tried to clarify the situation, Chloe would grab her hand in front of everyone, her eyes immediately welling up with tears. “Ann, are you mad that I got into St. Jude’s with you? I know you hate it when people compare us.” The surrounding classmates would instantly rush to defend Chloe. “Ann, you are being completely psycho right now.” “Chloe literally didn’t even say anything bad about you.” “She goes out of her way to take care of you, and this is how you treat her?” Ann tried to fight back a few times. But every single time, Chloe weaponized her tears. Over time, the entire student body became absolutely convinced that Ann was a jealous, bitter, manipulative parasite who couldn’t stand seeing her benefactor succeed. When Ann finished the story, I only asked her one question. “Why didn’t you call me?” Ann stared at the floor. “You were overseas managing the Foundation’s international expansion, and Mom and Dad were drowning in a massive corporate merger. I honestly thought it was just a stupid high school misunderstanding that would eventually blow over.” “And then what happened?” Her fingers twisted into her shirt fabric. “Then… Martha came to talk to me.” Martha had specifically come to the condo to drop off some homemade soup. She sat on the expensive leather sofa, letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Ann, sweetheart, I know you feel wronged. But please try to understand how hard this is for Chloe. She grew up without a father. She has always felt so inferior. Now that everyone mistakenly thinks she is part of the Frost family, it is the very first time in her entire life she feels respected.” Ann had replied, “But they are actively bullying me.” Martha grabbed Ann’s hands, her eyes pleading. “You have always been the sweetest, most understanding girl. You have a father, a mother, and an older sister who worship the ground you walk on. What does Chloe have? Absolutely nothing. She is just borrowing a tiny sliver of your light. It’s not like she is actually stealing anything from you.” Ann went silent. Martha pushed harder. “Besides, your parents specifically told you to keep a low profile. If you blow this out of proportion and cause a massive scandal, aren’t you just creating a huge headache for Mr. and Mrs. Frost?” Ann’s ultimate weakness was her desperate fear of being a burden to our family. So, she swallowed the humiliation and stayed silent. Listening to this, a suffocating rage built in my chest. Ann’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “Molly, am I just completely pathetic?” I reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “The only pathetic person in this room is me.” If I had just bothered to ask her how things were going. If I hadn’t blindly believed that forced anonymity was the ultimate form of protection. My sister wouldn’t have been drowning in this toxic nightmare all by herself for three years. That night, I drove straight back to the main Frost estate. Martha wasn’t in the main house. She had been demoted last year to manage the storage logistics for the outer estate properties, but her security clearance hadn’t been fully revoked yet. I ordered the estate manager to pull the comprehensive security and vehicle logs from the last three years. The manager’s face turned completely ashen as he scrolled through the data. “Ms. Frost, this is entirely my negligence.” I didn’t yell at him. He wasn’t the only one who had been negligent. The Frost family had grown too comfortable treating Martha like a trusted, loyal retainer. And sometimes, treating someone like family is the exact mistake that invites a parasite into your home. At 1:00 AM, my assistant forwarded me a fresh batch of intel. Chloe had just posted a new update on her social media. It was a selfie of her sitting perfectly in the front row of the St. Jude’s auditorium. The caption read: “True kindness should always be cherished. See you all at the symposium.” Someone commented below: “Chloe, are you going to be speaking on stage for the Foundation’s open house day?!” She replied: “I am just doing what is expected of me.” I stared at the screen, a dark, freezing smile forming on my lips. She had absolutely no idea. When the Foundation’s open house day arrived, I was going to hand her the ultimate gift. 4 The next morning, I personally called the Headmaster of St. Jude’s. “Headmaster Davis, this is Molly Frost.” There was a noticeable pause on the other end before his voice shifted into a tone of exaggerated warmth. “Ms. Frost! It is an absolute honor. Have you returned from London?” “Just got back.” I cut straight to the chase. “I am aware that St. Jude’s is hosting its annual Foundation Open House next week. I would like to integrate the Frost Global Education Foundation’s core presentation into your main event. I require the attendance of the entire student body and faculty. My keynote will focus on educational equity and the ethical boundaries of corporate sponsorships.” The Headmaster agreed instantly. I casually added one final detail. “I will be announcing a new tier of scholarship recipients, as well as conducting a comprehensive public review of our past sponsorship case studies.” Headmaster Davis laughed heartily. “Excellent! That will be a phenomenal educational experience for our student body.” After hanging up, I instructed my corporate legal team to contact the school’s administration to authorize a partial release of classified records. Ann’s identity was to be declassified solely regarding her immediate family lineage. Her specific security details remained strictly classified. Chloe’s scholarship records, however, were fully declassified for public review. When Chloe initially enrolled, she signed a legally binding Frost Foundation scholarship contract. Buried in the fine print was a specific clause: “The Recipient is strictly prohibited from fraudulently assuming the identity of the Benefactor for personal gain, and shall not propagate defamatory or fabricated information detrimental to the Benefactor or their affiliates.” At the time, it was just standard legal boilerplate. Now, it was the exact weapon I needed. That afternoon, Martha showed up at my hotel suite. She stood nervously in the entryway, clutching an insulated thermos, wearing her trademark submissive, motherly smile. “Miss Molly, why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming back? I rushed over to bring you your favorite homemade soup.” I remained seated on the velvet sofa, entirely unmoving. “Martha, your intel network is surprisingly efficient.” Her smile faltered slightly. “Everyone at the estate is just so thrilled you are home.” I locked eyes with her. “How is Chloe doing at St. Jude’s?” Her eyes darted nervously to the side. “Oh, she is doing wonderfully. It is all thanks to the Frost family’s incredible generosity. Without you, we would be nothing.” “Is that right?” I tossed my phone onto the glass coffee table. The screen was locked on the screenshot of Chloe’s latest social media post. Seeing the photo, the color drained slightly from Martha’s face. I asked, “Were you aware that the entire student body believes Chloe is the youngest daughter of the Frost family?” Martha immediately deployed a heavy sigh. “Miss Molly, I swear I have scolded her about this. But you know how teenagers are… she just wanted to feel a little special. Besides, she never explicitly claimed to be a Frost. It was just a silly misunderstanding by her classmates.” “And the fact that Ann is being violently bullied and labeled as a maid’s daughter? Is that also just a silly misunderstanding?” She went completely silent. After a long pause, she murmured, “Ann has always been so soft spoken. She doesn’t like conflict. In a few years, when they all graduate, everyone will forget this ever happened anyway.” I let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “So your brilliant solution was to force my sister to endure psychological torture until graduation?” Martha’s eyes instantly filled with crocodile tears. “Miss Molly, I have broken my back working for the Frost family for over a decade. I have bled for this family. Chloe doesn’t have a father. She just desperately wanted a tiny shred of respect. Your family literally has the world in the palm of your hands. Would it really kill you to share just a tiny bit of your status with her?” I stood up slowly. “Respect isn’t something you can borrow.” “And if you steal it, you’re just a thief.” Her face turned ashen white. I closed the distance between us, standing inches from her face. “Martha, I am giving you exactly one opportunity. Before 9:00 AM tomorrow, you will ensure that Chloe issues a public retraction and a formal apology to Ann. She will return every single item she stole. She will delete every single defamatory post she manufactured.” Martha bit her lip hard. “Miss Molly, is this really necessary? She is just a child…” “She is three months older than Ann.” Martha choked on her words. I continued, my voice lethal. “And don’t bother trying to cover for her. I have the IP logs for her burner accounts, the GPS routing for the vehicles, and the security footage of you abusing your storage clearance.” The thermos in her hands shook violently, spilling hot soup onto the expensive carpet. “Miss Molly…” “9:00 AM tomorrow.” I turned my back to her. “Not a second later.” Martha didn’t agree. Thirty minutes after she left my suite, Chloe uploaded a brand new post. “Some people are born with the entire world handed to them, yet they will ruthlessly destroy anyone who dares to step into the light.” The photo attached was a pitch black square. The comments flooded in, filled with aggressive sympathy. “Chloe, don’t let them break you!” “Is that psychopath trying to ruin your life again?” “She is absolutely repulsive. Your family gives her everything, and she treats you like garbage.” I took high resolution screenshots of everything and forwarded them straight to my legal team. “Add this to the litigation packet.” The lead attorney replied instantly: “Confirmed.” Some people will never learn until the absolute final second, genuinely believing their pathetic tears are an impenetrable shield. Then I was going to shatter that delusion. When faced with ironclad evidence, tears don’t make you look like a victim. They make you look like a clown.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “599302”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Ever since I was little, I loved taking things apart. The best part? I could put them back together like nothing ever happened. After graduation, I was broke. Armed with this odd little talent, I landed a high-paying job as a live-in caregiver. Word on the street was my employer was paralyzed from the waist down, deeply brooding, and had already driven away seven previous caregivers. Since he and I were around the same age, his mother decided to give me a shot. Before I went into his room, she kept warning me, “Sweetheart, keep your head down, speak less, observe less, and just focus on your work.” I nodded. But just as I reached the door, I heard the deadbolt click from the inside. Her face drained of color. She started pounding on the door in panic. “Sebastian, open the door! Don’t scare Mom like this!” The butler fumbled with the spare key for ages, but the lock wouldn’t budge. As everyone spiraled into chaos around me, I pulled a bobby pin from my hair. “Um… do you mind if I give it a try?” The second the door swung open, my breath hitched in my throat. The golden boy I used to harbor a secret crush on back in high school was sitting right there in a wheelchair. When our eyes met, he froze too. Then his face turned stone cold. “Get out.” 1 My dad was a legend in our neighborhood, known far and wide as the appliance whisperer. He could fix anything, except broken hearts. I grew up as his little apprentice. While other kids were taking piano lessons, I was taking apart rice cookers. Dad always felt guilty about it, wishing he had the money to send me to fancy extracurriculars. But I genuinely had a knack for fixing things. Anything that ended up in my hands, if it could be taken apart, I could repair it. Disassembling stuff built my physical strength, and fixing it sharpened my mind. I loved figuring things out, turning junk into something useful, and making useful things even better. Other parents prayed for their kids to become doctors or lawyers. My dad? He just prayed to God every single day that whatever I broke today was a small trinket, not something he couldn’t afford to replace. When I graduated from college, my classmates all headed off to big tech firms or major metropolis centers. Dad hoped I would chase those big city dreams too. Every time we video-called, he looked like he wanted to say something, then held back. I knew he missed me, but he was afraid of holding me back. So on graduation day, I packed my bags and hopped on the first train home. The moment I arrived, I caught a group of local thugs making trouble at our shop. Growing up, I had seen this scenario a million times. Dad was insanely skilled, but he charged next to nothing. Dishonest vendors who sold cheap appliances couldn’t make sales, so they dumped all their frustration on our shop. Back then, they were cowardly, smashing our windows in the middle of the night. Dad was gentle and timid, but I was not. Even as a kid, I would march out the next morning swinging a plastic toy staff, demanding justice. To make sure I didn’t hit the wrong person, I ended up beating up every notorious young delinquent on our block. As soon as I stepped inside the shop today, one of those grown-up delinquents had his dirty boot slammed right on my dad’s workbench. “Old man, just accept it,” he sneered. “Sign the agreement early, it’s better for everyone.” I marched over and slapped the back of three thugs’ heads in one swift motion. The impact rattled my own palm. “What the hell! Who…” The guy spun around, eyes widening in terror. “Sum… Summer! You’re back!” Only then did I notice the contract on the bench. It was a shop transfer agreement. The thugs were trembling, almost falling to their knees in fear. “Summer, please, help us convince your dad! The manufacturer said if he just hands over the shop, they’ll cover the victim’s medical bills!” Victim? Compensation? My brows pulled together in a tight scowl. That was when I learned those greedy bastards had set a trap for my dad. They hired a scumbag to pull a scam, claiming the kettle coupler my dad replaced was defective. They said it sparked the moment it was plugged in, scaring an elderly relative so badly she ended up in the hospital. The other side came prepared with forged evidence and a slick lawyer, demanding forty thousand dollars in compensation. If we couldn’t pay, we had to surrender the shop to them for free. My dad wasn’t just fixing appliances all his life, he was maintaining his integrity. He barely made a dollar or two on repairs, and after raising me, he had virtually no savings. With the old lady still lying in the hospital, Dad felt trapped into paying, but there was no way he could satisfy their outrageous extortion. Afraid of burdening me, he hadn’t uttered a single word, bearing the crushing weight all by himself. I knew how much this shop meant to him, how hard he fought to keep his conscience clean. I yanked open the shop’s front door and pointed at the thugs. “Get the hell out. I will figure out the money.” “If any of you dare to come back and cause trouble, I won’t just slap you, I’ll drag you out in pieces!” 2 Dad was consumed by guilt. The man who used to smile so warmly in my memories now looked completely broken. He felt his stubborn honesty had dragged me into this mess. When a parent faces the storm, if their child doesn’t stand beside them, who will? I patted his shoulder, forcing a bright smile. “It’s fine, Pop. Trust me, every dark tunnel has an exit.” Later, sitting outside the shop sucking on a Popsicle, panic finally began to set in. Forty grand. Where in the world was a fresh graduate supposed to get forty thousand dollars? Was a sugar daddy going to magically fall from the sky and hand me a briefcase full of cash? Sighing, I scrolled through a job hunting app. My finger paused on an opening right here in the city: Live-in Caregiver. Ten thousand dollars a month. I almost dropped my Popsicle. Good lord. The magic briefcase really just dropped into my lap. It wasn’t until I arrived at the estate that I realized high pay always comes with a catch. The young master had been in a horrific car accident a few years ago. Ever since, he had become deeply withdrawn and aggressive, driving away seven caregivers in a row. Seeing that I was around his age, his mother, Mrs. Bennett, agreed to give me a shot. Before taking me to his bedroom, she reminded me repeatedly, “Sweetheart, don’t stare at his legs. Speak less, observe less, and just do your job.” I nodded. But the moment we stepped up to his door, I heard the deadbolt lock from the inside. Mrs. Bennett panicked, terrified he might do something drastic. She pounded on the door frantically. “Sebastian! Sebastian, open the door! Don’t scare Mom like this!” The butler fumbled with the master key for minutes, but it wouldn’t open. With everyone running around like headless chickens, I pulled out my hairpin. “Um… let me give it a try?” The fastest locksmith would take at least half an hour. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so they scrambled out of my way. Picking a bedroom lock was child’s play for me. I slipped the hairpin into the keyhole, gave it a quick twist, and clicked the mechanism open. I pushed the door open, and the second I saw the man inside, my breath caught in my throat. A face I knew all too well was trapped in that wheelchair. His spine was straight, desperately clinging to the last shreds of his dignity. But his head was lowered, those once-dazzling eyes hollow and devoid of life, filled only with a quiet, bleak despair. My feet felt glued to the floor. I stared at him, my mind spinning in utter disbelief. He was the golden boy I secretly loved back in high school. Brilliant, wealthy, and impossibly kind. Sebastian froze when he saw me. I knew he didn’t remember me. He was simply shocked that someone had picked his lock so fast. His pale, strikingly handsome face instantly turned cold. Across all those years of distance and memory, his voice sounded unfamiliar now. I heard him speak. “Get out.” 3 The people behind me surged into the bedroom. Sebastian realized what they were about to do, his pupils dilating in sudden horror. Before he could even fight back, the staff expertly unfastened the restraint straps on his wheelchair armrests and bound his wrists tight. His feet were secured the exact same way. He let out a desperate, gut-wrenching howl like a trapped beast. “Mom! Stop this! Just let me go, please… let me end it!” Someone injected a sedative into his arm. Mrs. Bennett’s eyes brimmed with tears. She gently caressed her son’s reddened wrists, though her gaze remained resolute. “Sebastian, don’t hate Mom… I just can’t bear the thought of losing you.” The drug took effect rapidly. His eyes went blank, a single tear slipping down his cheek before he lost consciousness. In the formal living room, Mrs. Bennett slid an envelope full of cash across the table with her left hand and a contract with her right. “Summer, I am very impressed with you. If you’re willing to stay, I will raise the salary to twenty thousand a month.” “As you can see, Sebastian’s physical disability is nothing compared to his psychological trauma.” “He keeps trying to end his life. I had to beg him to stay with me for just another six months. If he’s still in this much agony by then… I’ll let him go.” Her voice cracked with a sob. “Summer, if you don’t want to take the job, I’ll pay you for two weeks right now as a thank you for saving his life today.” Only six months left to live? Without a second thought, I pushed the cash envelope back, grabbed the pen, and signed my name on the contract. The moment I finished signing, regret hit me. You acted way too impulsively, Summer! You didn’t even read the contract! It’s not like you still have feelings for him after all these years… Right? No way. Absolutely not. I sat there shaking my head violently, chanting in my mind: I’m doing this for twenty grand a month! Twenty grand a month! At this rate, I only need to work four months to pay off my dad’s debt. Yeah, that’s it! I muttered under my breath, “I’m strictly in it for myself. I’m out of here in four months.” Mrs. Bennett couldn’t hear what I mumbled. Tears spilled over again as she grasped my hand, sobbing uncontrollably. “Thank you, Summer. Thank you so much!” 4 The family doctor said the dosage given to Sebastian would only keep him asleep for two hours. Timing it carefully, I went up to his room right before he was due to wake up. On his nightstand sat a strange custom calendar. I flipped through it. The pages only went up to December twenty-fourth. Christmas Eve. I remembered what Mrs. Bennett said about promising him six months. So… his deadline was Christmas Eve. Sebastian lay on the bed with his eyes closed, his face pale from a long absence of sunlight. Yet that face was still sharp and devastatingly handsome, just as I remembered. The boyish softness was gone, replaced by a refined, mature edge around his brow and eyes. He was terribly thin, though, so thin it made my heart ache. I was lost in thought when I noticed his brows pulling together. Fine beads of cold sweat broke out on his forehead, his breathing growing ragged as if caught in a terrible nightmare. I quickly went into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and ran it under warm water. The moment my fingertips touched his skin, his hand shot up and clamped around my wrist. I flinched, looking down. Sebastian had opened his eyes. They were bloodshot, pupils unfocused, completely detached from reality. His grip was impossibly strong, squeezing my wrist until it throbbed with pain. I nearly swore out loud. Damn it, I’m going to end up in the ER before I even see my first paycheck! When I used to have night terrors as a kid, my dad would hold my hand tight and whisper over and over that he was there, that I didn’t need to be afraid. Sighing, I imitated my dad, calling out softly. “Sebastian?” He didn’t respond, just clutched my hand like a lifeline. His upper body curled inward instinctively, but his lower body wouldn’t obey, causing him even greater distress. I hesitated for a moment, then reached my free hand under his blanket, gently supporting his waist to turn him onto his side. “Sebastian, it’s okay. I’m here. Don’t be scared.” Whether it was the curled posture or the soothing words, his rapid breathing gradually leveled out. Yet he never let go of my wrist. When his eyes fluttered open again, clarity slowly returned to his gaze. His eyes tracked down to our locked hands. As if scorched by fire, he snapped his hand back. I quickly pulled back my numb wrist, secretly shaking it out. His voice was raspier than before. “Who allowed you to touch me?” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Honest to God, you were the one holding on for dear life.” His expression darkened. He hit a button by the headboard. “Who are you? What are you doing in my room?” Before I could answer, a knock sounded at the door. The butler stood at the threshold, out of breath. “Young Master, you’re awake…” So that button was a panic alarm to call staff. I frowned. They came fast. They weren’t going to install one of those for me to be on call twenty-four seven, were they? High pay really does come with high stress! “Young Master, this is Miss Summer, the new live-in caregiver hired by Madam.” “She will be looking after your daily needs from now on.” Sebastian refused to cooperate. “I don’t need her. Tell her to leave.” The butler looked caught in an awkward position, his eyes darting between Sebastian and me. If he didn’t tell me to leave, he’d offend the young master. If he told me to leave, he’d offend the mistress. I put on a casual front. “It’s fine. Even if I step out, I can always get back in.” Sebastian glared at me, his tone dropping several degrees colder. “What do you mean by that?” “Literally what I said. Picking this bedroom lock is a walk in the park for me.” Realization dawned on him. I was the one who picked his lock this morning. “Ha. People with far more experience than you couldn’t last two weeks here. You’ll quit within a week.” I grinned. “Well, that leaves us with a whole week, doesn’t it?” “You!” The butler couldn’t suppress a slight smile. He glanced back and forth between us, settling his gaze on me. “Miss Summer, I’ll leave it to you to bring the Young Master down for lunch. I’ll head down to the dining room to set up.” 5 Sebastian was stubbornly uncooperative. He loathed my touch, shifting his own body into the wheelchair with sheer willpower. When the chair moved forward, I assumed he was heading out for lunch. Instead, he rolled over to the bay window and froze. He sat there like a melancholy statue. I leaned against the glass and looked out. Nothing special, just a bed of half-withered flowers sweltering in the sun. “Sebastian, let’s go eat.” He didn’t even glance at me, completely ignoring my presence. I crouched down beside his wheelchair, inspecting the restraint straps installed on the armrests and footrests. A heavy, intense glare bore down on me from above. “Summer?” “Summer, what do you think you’re doing?” Seeing my hands touch the straps, his voice turned sharp and frantic. “Summer! If you dare to tie me up, you’re fired today!” “Summer, are you listening to me?” “Summer, get out of my room! Out!” So noisy. I reached for the buckle, gave it a firm squeeze and twist, and the strap popped right off. I unclipped the footrest straps just as easily. As the two restraint straps dropped to the floor, his eyes trembled. His furious struggle vanished, replaced by an incredulous question. “You… you’re not tying me down?” I dusted off my hands and met his gaze. “You’re not crazy. Why would I tie you up?” He bit his lip, his pale face remaining guarded, but his fingers gripped the armrests so hard his knuckles turned white. “Don’t think this means I’ll cooperate with you… Summer!” He let out an unexpected gasp. His cold, aloof composure shattered instantly. I had scooped him up into my arms, holding him firmly, and even tossed him gently like a sack of flour just to tease him. “No worries. I’ll find a way to make you listen.” “And just so we’re clear, I didn’t remove those straps to bargain with you. I just hate seeing anyone forced through that kind of misery.” “So you don’t have to obey me, but if you have a shred of kindness in you, please make my job a little easier. I’m begging you.” He turned his head away, refusing to look at me. Sighing, I placed him back in the wheelchair and pushed him toward the door. Just as we crossed the threshold, I heard his voice, soft as a feather. “Okay.” 6 The fact that I successfully brought Sebastian downstairs for lunch caused quite a stir among the staff. Everyone tried to act casual, but after lunch, once I settled Sebastian in for his afternoon nap, they swarmed me the second I stepped out of his room. “Summer, you’re amazing! This is the first time since his accident that he came down for lunch on time.” “Right! Before this, he’d either come down super late or refuse to eat altogether.” “We used to reheat his food three times before giving up and cooking a fresh meal to bring up to his room.” In my memories, he was someone who always considered others. He was never like this. Had the accident completely altered his personality? I asked softly, “How did he end up in a wheelchair?” The room fell quiet for a moment. One of the maids lowered her voice. “A car crash.” “Her name and that incident are absolute taboo in this house. Summer, just keep it to yourself, never bring it up in front of the Young Master or Madam.” “It happened the year he was heading abroad for college. That girl… what was her name again? Sienna, right, Sienna.” My heart skipped a beat. Sienna. A name I knew all too well. Our high school beauty, and Sebastian’s rumored girlfriend. They came from similar wealthy backgrounds, grew up together as childhood sweethearts, and everyone said they were a match made in heaven. “Let me tell you,” another maid chimed in. “Young Master and Sienna were supposed to fly out together. On the day they were heading to the airport, Young Master had already arrived when Sienna called him. She claimed something came up and begged him to pick her up.” “Young Master didn’t think twice. But on his way to get her, his car got broadsided. And guess what? After the accident, that girl didn’t visit him even once. She just went abroad by herself. Ah, our Young Master used to be such a bright, cheerful boy…” “Summer, whatever you do, never mention her name in front of him.” So it was because of Sienna? I nodded automatically, though a sudden, bitter ache flooded my chest. Forget it, Summer. How many years has it been? You can’t possibly still hold a torch for him. You’re his employee now, nothing more. Just do your job, save up enough money, and leave as soon as possible. Ever since the crash, Sebastian had become deeply reclusive. After observing him for a few days, I noticed he spent most of his time sitting by the window, staring blankly outside. Curious, I followed his gaze one afternoon. Outside was just a flower patch, half-withered under the scorching sun. While he was resting, I took a walk down to the garden. The sprinkler system was clogged with thick limescale. No wonder half his view was blooming while the other half looked sad and dying. I grabbed a piece of thin wire and meticulously cleared out every single nozzle on the sprinkler heads. Whenever I got hands-on with fixing things, I lost all track of time and surroundings. I didn’t even notice the curtains on the second-floor bedroom window sliding open. 7 After fixing the sprinklers, I turned my attention to Sebastian’s wheelchair. The butler mentioned it was a custom import from overseas, featuring state-of-the-art tech. But no one realized that sitting in it for long stretches was actually uncomfortable. I pulled a screwdriver from my pocket, crouched down, and began inspecting the frame. Sebastian’s brow twitched. “Summer, what are you doing?” I didn’t have time to answer. My fingers traced the axle, the wheels, then moved to the footrests and armrests. Just as I suspected, the adjustments were all off. No wonder he hated going outside. His main mode of transportation was misaligned. First, the center of gravity was wrong. Sitting like that for hours would wreak havoc on anyone’s lower back. Second, the footrests were set too high, leaving his thighs suspended without proper support. The armrests were an inch too tall as well, forcing his shoulders into a permanent, strained shrug. These micro-flaws were invisible to an outsider, but torture for someone stuck in the chair all day. “Summer, what are you fixing?” “Don’t waste your time. If you break a part, we’ll have to order replacements from Europe…” He was still resisting, grumbling from the seat. I tightened the last screw, stood up, and wiped my brow. “Try moving forward.” Skeptical, Sebastian operated the controls. His expression shifted instantly. “You… you know how to fix this too?” “This is nothing. I was fixing color TVs when I was three.” Once the wheelchair was sorted, I noticed the estate’s accessibility ramps were poorly constructed. These things were meant to be tailored to the user’s specific needs. But since Sebastian rarely went out, they had been neglected for years. I modified the last slope in the garden, smoothing out the concrete, and stuck a crude handwritten sign at the base. “What are you doing now?” Sebastian had rolled out without me realizing. His gaze wasn’t on me, but on the crooked wooden board. Wet Concrete. Do Not Step. He stared at those words, a flicker of shock washing over his usually stone-cold eyes. For the first time, ripples broke through his calm facade. “Upgraded the hardware and software around the yard,” I said, dusting off my heavy-duty work gloves and walking over to pat his shoulder. “That way, whenever you feel like coming out, the path is wide open.” Assuming his shock was gratitude, I grinned. “If you think I did a good job, feel free to give me a raise, Boss.” Sebastian looked up at me. His eyes held an emotion I couldn’t quite read. It shifted from doubt to sudden realization, and finally into something firm and intense. He asked, “Summer… have we met somewhere before?” I froze on the spot, my heart hammering against my ribs.

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Right before freshman year, my parents set up a mystery envelope challenge, claiming it was a test of our independence. Two envelopes sat on the table. One held a monthly allowance of two thousand dollars. The other held the Zero Dollar Survival Challenge. “Whoever draws zero dollars isn’t allowed to come home crying about being broke for the next four years.” In my past life, I drew the zero-dollar card. For four years, my classmates treated me like trash, and I barely survived on extra ladles of soup from the cafeteria staff. Meanwhile, my younger brother flaunted brand-new clothes and the latest iPhones every week, telling everyone I was great material for an inspirational struggle story. It wasn’t until graduation day that I discovered the truth. Both envelopes had contained the Zero Dollar Survival Challenge. Reborn back to the day of the draw, I smiled and pushed the envelopes toward my brother. “Mom and Dad love you the most. You go first, Kevin. Don’t let me steal your good luck.” 1 My mother, Freya, sat on the sofa, a gentle smile plastered across her face. “Elijah, Kevin, you’re both heading off to college soon. Your father and I prepared a little test for you.” My father, Richard, slid two white envelopes across the coffee table. “One contains a monthly allowance of two thousand dollars. The other is the Zero Dollar Survival Challenge. Which one you get depends entirely on fate.” Kevin sat beside Mom, his freshly styled hair gleaming under the chandelier. His lips curled upward, the arrogant look of a boy who had been favored by destiny his entire life. In my previous life, Mom had subtly nudged the envelope on the left half an inch toward me. This time, before her hand could even move, I snatched the envelope on the right and stuffed it directly into Kevin’s palm. “Mom and Dad love you the most. You go first, Kevin. Don’t let me steal your good luck.” The living room fell dead silent for a moment. Kevin’s smirk froze on his face. Mom instinctively looked at Dad. Dad frowned, his brow furrowing into deep creases. “You’re the older brother. You should yield to your younger brother. Since when does the younger brother pick first?” I pressed the envelope firmly against Kevin’s fingers. “Dad, didn’t you just say it’s up to fate? Does fate care who was born first?” Mom immediately jumped in to smooth things over. “Elijah, don’t be so rigid. It’s just a game.” “Then all the more reason for Kevin to draw first,” I replied, staring straight into Kevin’s eyes. “He’s always been lucky. He scrapes by on exams and still wins academic awards. He enters mall raffles and walks away with free phones. His luck won’t fail him today.” Kevin didn’t dare open it. His fingernails dug into the paper edges, his face turning pale second by second. Ash from Dad’s cigarette dropped onto his trousers, but he didn’t bother brushing it off. His voice turned heavy and grim. “Kevin, open it.” Kevin looked up, his eyes rimmed with red. “Dad, I don’t want to play anymore.” Mom instantly wrapped her arms around him, cradling him like a fragile child. “If he doesn’t want to play, he doesn’t have to! He’s still young, why are you scaring him like this?” In my past life, when I drew the zero-dollar card, nobody said I was still young. I was terrified back then too. I asked if I could redraw, and Dad smashed his glass mug right at my feet. “Life doesn’t give you second chances! Stop throwing a tantrum the moment things get tough!” Yet now, when it was Kevin’s turn, he merely sniffled, and Mom looked at him as if he had suffered the greatest tragedy in the world. I reached out and picked up the other envelope from the table. “Fine, I’ll open it for him.” “Elijah!” Dad slammed his palm onto the heavy oak table. The coffee table shook violently, sending a bowl of fruit spilling onto the rug. I froze my hand in midair. The gentle facade on Mom’s face completely vanished. “Elijah, what is wrong with you today? Why are you intent on making everyone miserable?” “Didn’t you two say this was a test of our independence?” I placed the two envelopes side by side. “If we don’t open them, how do we test anything?” Kevin bit his lip, tears cascading down his cheeks. “Elijah, do you hate me that much? I just wanted to go to college happily.” Mom glared at me with pure venom. “Look at what you did! You scared your brother to tears!” Dad stood up, snatched the envelope from Kevin’s hand, and shoved it hard against my chest. “Fine! You draw! You’re the sensible one, aren’t you?” The sharp corner of the paper jabbed painfully into my palm. I looked down and let out a quiet chuckle. “Dad, didn’t you just say it was all up to fate?” Dad’s face turned thunderous. “I told you to open it, so open it!” Those words were identical to what he said in my past life. I slowly tore open the top of the envelope. Unfolding the white sheet inside, six words written in bold black ink stared back at me. Zero Dollar Survival Challenge. Mom let out a long, audible sigh of relief. Kevin stopped crying immediately. He buried his face into Mom’s shoulder, peeking out at me with half an eye that practically danced with secret glee. Dad cleared his throat, regaining his stern composure. “Since you drew it, we stick to the rules.” I placed the paper on the table. “What about Kevin’s envelope?” Mom reached across the table, attempting to swipe the remaining envelope away. I slammed my hand down, pinning it beneath my palm. “To be fair, let me open this one too.” Dad’s heavy hand slammed down right over the back of my wrist. The bones of my hand crushed against the hard wooden table, sending a sharp, numbing pain shooting up my arm. He glared down at me, leaning in close, his voice dripping with malice. “Elijah, don’t push your luck.” Kevin lifted his head from Mom’s shoulder and whimpered, “Elijah, stop making a scene. Dad’s blood pressure is spiking.” I looked at him calmly. “If you’re so worried about his blood pressure, why didn’t you open the envelope yourself?” Kevin’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed red before turning ghostly pale. Mom slapped my arm hard. “Enough!” Dad crumpled the unopened envelope in his fist, pulled out the coffee table drawer, and shoved it inside. The soft click of the lock turning felt like an iron curtain dropping. My heart turned entirely cold. Dad pointed a thick finger at my face. “Starting tomorrow, figure out your own living expenses. This family will not give you a single dime.” Mom helped Kevin up, guiding him toward his bedroom. As she reached his door, she turned around, her eyes cold. “Elijah, if you have any decency left in you, stop taking your anger out on your brother.” Right before closing his bedroom door, Kevin silently mouthed two words at me. Serves you right. 2 The next morning, Mom laid out four sets of place settings on the dining table. In front of Kevin sat fried eggs, crispy bacon, and a steaming bowl of fresh shrimp porridge. In front of me sat a single bowl of hard, leftover rice from two nights ago. Dad sat reading the morning newspaper, not even bothering to lift his head. “Since you want to be independent, it starts today.” Mom slid a crisp blue debit card next to Kevin’s hand. “Kevin, there’s five thousand dollars in here for your initial college supplies. If it’s not enough, just let Mom know.” Kevin offered a bright, sunshiny smile. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll make sure to spend it wisely.” After speaking, he deliberately turned his head toward me. “Elijah, do you want me to lend you a hundred bucks? You’ll have to write me an IOU, though. Independence means even brothers keep clear accounts.” Mom patted his shoulder in playful scolding. “Oh, stop teasing your brother.” I picked up the bowl of cold rice and swallowed a mouthful. The hard, dried grains scratched against my throat like coarse sand. Dad flipped his newspaper with a crisp snap. “Elijah, don’t feel mistreated. Hardship builds real character. You’ve always been tougher and more resilient than Kevin. Your mother and I trust you.” In my past life, that single phrase, “we trust you,” crushed me for four grueling years. I remembered the night I had a fever of a hundred and four degrees. I called Mom, asking if she could transfer fifty dollars so I could go to the urgent care clinic. She had said, “Elijah, you need to learn how to budget. Don’t come running to your family the second you run out of cash.” Right after she hung up, Kevin posted a photo on Instagram showing off a brand-new designer wool scarf. His caption read: Mom and Dad were worried I’d catch a cold, so they insisted on sending me two thousand dollars to buy something nice. At the breakfast table, Kevin casually stirred his porridge with a silver spoon. “Elijah, don’t be discouraged. The boba shop near my campus is hiring. You could go ask for a job.” Mom nodded in agreement. “Yes, part-time work builds great work ethic.” I set my bowl down. “Then Kevin can go build his work ethic too.” Kevin immediately pouted. “My course load is super heavy, and I’m joining the student union! Where would I find the time?” Dad slammed the newspaper onto the table. “He’s different from you. His health is delicate.” “He came in first place in the eight-hundred-meter dash at the school sports meet last month.” Silence descended upon the dining room. Mom frowned heavily. “Elijah, why are you always targeting your brother? His weak constitution isn’t news. As his older brother, do you have no empathy?” Kevin had been born a month premature, spending his first few weeks in an incubator. From that day forward, his “delicate health” became his lifelong free pass. He could steal my birthday cake because his delicate health made him crave sweets. He could rip up my academic competition certificates because his delicate health made his emotions fragile. He could blast his speakers at maximum volume the night before my SATs because his delicate health required relaxation. And if I so much as knitted my brow, I was labeled an ungrateful, heartless brother. The doorbell chimed. A delivery driver stood at the door, holding three massive cardboard boxes. “Delivery for Kevin.” Kevin practically leaped out of his chair, not even bothering to slip his shoes on properly. The boxes were sliced open to reveal a brand-new flagship phone, a top-tier tablet, designer sneakers, and a plush white cashmere coat. Mom helped him snip off the tags. “A young man out in the world shouldn’t be looked down upon.” Kevin waved his new phone right in front of my face. “Elijah, can you still use that ancient phone of yours? Isn’t the screen completely shattered?” My old phone was a hand-me-down Mom had replaced two years ago. The charging port was loose, and the battery died the moment it hit thirty percent. Before I could speak, Dad chimed in. “As long as it can make calls, it’s fine. Don’t fall prey to vanity.” Kevin slipped into the white cashmere coat, twirling around in front of the hallway mirror. “Does it look good?” Mom smiled so wide the corners of her eyes crinkled. “My boy looks handsome in anything.” I stood by the entryway, putting on my worn shoes, preparing to head out to print materials for my student loan application. Mom suddenly called out to me. “Elijah, give me your ID card.” “What for?” “Your father’s company needs to update employee dependent information.” In my past life, I handed my ID over without a second thought. Later, when the university audited financial aid applications, I searched my bags frantically but couldn’t find my ID, causing me to miss the deadline for the first round of grants. I looked at her outstretched palm. “I can just take a picture of it and send it to you.” Mom’s expression darkened instantly. “Guarding your ID against your own parents? Where is your conscience?” Dad walked out from his study. “Hand it over.” Kevin leaned against the doorframe, smirking playfully. “Elijah, you’re not afraid Mom and Dad are going to take out a high-interest loan in your name, are you? Have you been watching too many crime dramas?” Mom’s hand reached straight for my backpack strap. I took a step backward. “I’ll keep it myself.” Dad raised his arm and delivered a harsh, ringing slap across my face. My head snapped to the side, my ear ringing with a deafening buzz. Kevin covered his mouth, though his eyes sparkled with pure delight. Mom yanked my bag away, unzipping it and fishing out my ID card. “We raised you for eighteen years, and we can’t even hold onto your ID for a day?” She held the plastic card tightly between her fingers. I reached out to grab it back. Dad seized my wrist, his grip so brutally tight it felt as though he intended to crush my bones. “You dare fight back?” He snatched the ID from my hand and passed it to Mom. “Keep it safe. Don’t give it back until after he leaves for campus.” Mom turned and walked into her bedroom. Kevin strolled over to my side, whispering in a voice only I could hear. “Elijah, give up. The more you fight, the more Mom and Dad despise you.” He gently poked my burning, reddened cheek with his finger. “Look at that. What a lovely shade of red.” 3 On the third day after my ID card was confiscated, I visited the local community services office to inquire about a proof-of-hardship document. The clerk flipped through the official forms. “We need your official ID, your family household registry, and your parents’ proof of income.” I stood before the counter, my knuckles white as I gripped my backpack straps. “I don’t have my original ID on me right now. Can I use a photocopy of the household registry?” The middle-aged woman lifted her eyes. “Honey, these documents require physical verification of the originals. Are your parents refusing to give them to you?” An older man standing in line behind me glanced over. The pity on his face felt harder to stomach than blatant mockery. I lowered my head. “I’ll figure something out.” As I walked out of the building, Mom’s call flashed on my screen. “Where are you?” “At the community office.” Her voice spiked into a shrill screech. “What are you doing at a place like that? If the neighbors find out my son is applying for low-income assistance, where are your father and I supposed to hide our faces?” “I don’t have any money for food or supplies.” “Didn’t we tell you to be self-reliant?” “I need the hardship verification to process my federal student loans.” Silence hung on the line for a few seconds. Mom suppressed her fury, her tone icy. “Elijah, are you doing this on purpose just to humiliate us? Your father just got promoted to department head. If you go around begging for poverty certificates, what will his colleagues think of him?” So their fragile social standing mattered far more than my college education. Mom continued, “Get home right now. Kevin needs to buy suitcases, and you need to carry his bags.” I hung up the phone. A text message from Kevin popped up immediately. Elijah, Mom said you went to the community office to play the victim card? You really know how to throw a scene. The next text was a photo. He was standing in front of a luxury boutique fitting mirror, surrounded by designer shopping bags. Hurry up and get over here! I can’t carry all this stuff myself. I didn’t go. When I returned home late that afternoon, the living room was cluttered with new suitcases, clothes, and shoe boxes. Mom sat on the sofa, her face stormy. “I told you to help your brother carry his bags, and you couldn’t even pick up the phone.” Dad was sipping tea. “He hasn’t even set foot on a college campus yet, and his wings are already fully grown.” Kevin shrank into the corner of the couch, his eyes reddened. “Mom, Dad, don’t blame Elijah. He probably just thinks I spent too much money.” Mom’s heart melted instantly. “You’re spending your parents’ money, not his!” I glanced at the discarded price tags on the floor. A single jacket cost twelve hundred dollars. A single rolling suitcase cost fifteen hundred dollars. That money alone could have fed me through four years of college. Dad lifted his chin. “Come over here and apologize to Kevin.” “I did nothing wrong.” The heavy porcelain teacup slammed onto the glass table. “Your brother leaves for campus tomorrow! He wanted you to spend his last day at home with him, and you pull this arrogant attitude?” Kevin said softly, “Elijah, if you don’t want to apologize, forget it. I know you drew the zero-dollar card and feel it’s unfair.” Mom glared at me. “Kevin sticks up for you at every turn, and what do you do? Look at him like he’s your mortal enemy every single day!” I remained silent. Dad stood up, pulled a sheet of paper from the desk drawer, and threw it onto the table. “Since the rules were set, put it in writing.” The commitment letter was already printed out. The text stated that I voluntarily accepted the Zero Dollar Survival Challenge during my college years, pledged never to request living expenses from my parents, and promised that any personal financial difficulties would not affect the family’s normal life. At the bottom right was a line reserved for my signature. In my past life, I signed it. Dad had claimed it was just a harmless family ceremony. Later, when I collapsed in my dorm from severe stomach bleeding caused by starvation, my resident advisor called my parents. Dad simply texted a photo of this commitment letter to her. The boy is fiercely proud and insists on relying solely on himself. From that moment on, whenever my advisor looked at me, her eyes held only helpless disappointment. I pushed the paper back. “I’m not signing this.” Dad grabbed a wooden feather duster from the stand and whipped it hard across my calves. The summer shorts offered zero protection. A thick, burning red welt exploded across my skin instantly. Mom frowned slightly, but made no move to stop him. “Elijah, just sign it and be done with it. Why force your father to lose his temper?” Kevin began to sob softly. “It’s all my fault. Maybe I should just share half my allowance with Elijah.” Dad immediately turned to comfort him. “This has nothing to do with you.” When he turned back to face me, his features were twisted in pure disgust. “Look at your brother, and then look at yourself!” The second blow struck my leg. I bit my lip hard, refusing to flinch or step back. Dad was breathing heavily. “Are you signing it or not?” Footsteps sounded outside the front door as a neighbor walked by, pausing for a second. Mom immediately rushed over to pull the curtains shut. “Richard, keep your voice down!” So she wasn’t afraid of me being hurt. She was only afraid of the neighbors hearing. I picked up the pen from the table and pressed the tip onto the paper, tracing my name letter by letter. Elijah. The final stroke tore right through the paper. Kevin wiped his tears, walked over from the sofa, and picked up the signed commitment letter. “Elijah, your handwriting is really nice.” He handed it to Dad with a sweet smile. “Dad, keep this somewhere safe, or Elijah might try to back out later.” Dad folded the paper neatly and placed it in the deepest compartment of his desk drawer. The lock clicked shut. 4 On the day move-in started, Kevin left in Dad’s car. The trunk was packed to the brim with luggage, and the passenger seat held a three-tier custom bento box Mom had spent all morning preparing. My entire life was packed into a single, frayed canvas duffel bag. Inside were two sets of worn clothes, a pair of faded sneakers, and the twenty-dollar bill Mom had tossed at me the night before. “For your bus fare and first week of meals,” she had said. “Make it last.” Kevin leaned out of the car window, grinning. “Elijah, your campus is only two subway stops away from mine! Come visit me on the weekends!” Mom added quickly, “Elijah, make sure you check on your brother when you have time. He’s on his own for the first time, and we’re worried about him.” I stood by the entrance of our residential complex, clutching my canvas bag. The scorching sun turned the concrete ground blindingly white. Dad honked the horn impatiently. “Take the city bus. Don’t waste money on a taxi.” As the car pulled away, Kevin waved his hand out the window. The brand-new watch on his wrist caught the sunlight, flashing painfully into my eyes. The registration line at my university was miles long. When it was finally my turn, the senior student handling my paperwork paused, looking over my file. “You haven’t paid your tuition, housing fees, or textbook fees yet.” “Can I request a deferment? I’m applying for federal student loans, but my paperwork is still being processed.” The senior looked helplessly at the resident advisor standing nearby. Her name was Ms. Harper, a woman in her early thirties who spoke in a calm, deliberate tone. “Process his orientation first. Give him a week to clear the balance.” Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, a girl standing behind me let out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, so you’re Elijah!” I turned around to see a girl holding her phone, displaying a screenshot of Kevin’s recent social media post. In the photo, Kevin sat on his plush dorm bed, captioned: My brother started his Zero Dollar Challenge today too! I hope he doesn’t struggle too hard. Mom and Dad said this is the best form of character building for him. In the comments section, someone asked: They really aren’t giving him a single dime? Your parents are brutal. Kevin replied: My brother wants to prove his independence, so we’re respecting his choice! I stared at those words, my fingertips turning icy cold. The girl scanned my worn canvas bag from top to bottom. “Pretty inspiring story.” Another guy joined in. “People still manufacture these self-reliant personas nowadays? He’s not just trying to scam the school for hardship grants, is he?” Ms. Harper frowned, her voice turning stern. “Students, refrain from baseless gossip.” The guy shrugged. “His own brother posted it, Ms. Harper. It’s not like I made it up.” That evening, I was making my bed in my six-person dorm room. My five roommates had already set up black-out bed curtains, desk organizers, and sleek storage units. My bed frame was completely bare. Even the thin mattress topper was a discarded item left behind by a senior. One of my roommates, Jason, offered me a bag of chips. “Want some?” I shook my head. “Thanks, I’m good.” He glanced at my exposed legs. “What happened to your calf?” The dark red welt hadn’t faded yet. I pulled my pant leg down. “Just scraped it.” The dorm door suddenly swung open. Kevin stood at the threshold holding two cups of expensive boba tea, flanked by three guys from his own campus. “Elijah, I came to see you!” He placed one of the boba cups on my desk. “I bought you the cheapest item on the menu. That doesn’t count as breaking your challenge rules, right?” The guys behind him burst into snickers. One of them stared at my empty bed in genuine shock. “Dude, did you seriously not buy anything at all?” Kevin sighed dramatically. “My brother has immense pride. Mom and Dad tried to give him money, but he flat-out refused.” I lifted my head and looked him dead in the eye. “When did Mom and Dad ever try to give me money?” He blinked, putting on an innocent look. “Elijah, don’t be like that. Didn’t you sign the commitment letter yourself?” The room went dead silent. Kevin pulled out his phone, tapping the screen to reveal a high-resolution photo. It was the commitment letter. My signature was crystal clear. The photo had been taken on Dad’s mahogany study desk. Kevin showed his phone to Jason. “My brother insists on relying entirely on himself. I honestly respect him so much for it.” Jason’s expression shifted awkwardly, and he didn’t take the phone. Kevin walked over to my desk, lowering his voice to a whisper. “If you’re really desperate for cash, you can do my laundry. I’ll pay you per piece.” I looked at his neatly styled hair. “Did you come all the way to my campus just to say this?” “Of course not.” He smiled, nudging the boba tea closer to my hand. “Mom told me to pass along a message. Don’t go around airing family business at school. It’s embarrassing.” With that, he turned to leave. As he reached the door, he paused as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh right, Elijah, Mom said she’s keeping your ID card for now so you don’t lose it. If you need anything processed, just tell me, and I’ll beg her on your behalf.” The door clicked shut. Silence hung heavy over the dorm. Condensation dripped down the plastic cup of boba tea, slowly soaking into my unpaid tuition invoice on the desk. 5 During my first week, I landed a job washing dishes in the back kitchen of the campus cafeteria. Seven to ten every night, fifteen dollars an hour, plus a free meal of leftover food. After soaking my hands in greasy water for three hours straight, my fingernails reeked of harsh dish soap. On Friday night, Kevin sent me a text. Elijah, come over to my campus right now. I didn’t reply. He called me immediately. “If you don’t come, I’ll tell Mom to contact your resident advisor.” Background noise blasted through the speaker, music, laughter, and shouting. I took off my apron and caught the last subway line to his campus. Kevin was waiting outside his dormitory building, wearing his plush white cashmere coat. Two massive shopping bags sat at his feet. “I don’t want these clothes anymore. Take them, wash them, and list them on a secondhand app for me.” “I don’t have time.” His brow creased instantly. “Elijah, why are you so selfish? I’m busy running for the student union arts department. I don’t have time to deal with this junk.” “Then throw them away.” Kevin’s voice spiked into a shrill tone. “These are designer clothes! They’re expensive!” I turned around to walk away. He snatched my forearm, his grip tight. “Don’t forget, your ID card is still with Mom.” My footsteps stopped. Kevin offered a smug, triumphant smile. “I know you need to apply for student loans, and I know you haven’t paid your housing fees yet. Elijah, handle these clothes for me, and I might say a few nice words to Mom for you.” He shoved the heavy bags into my arms. “Be obedient. It’s good for you.” It was almost eleven at night when I returned to my dorm. The night monitor at the front desk frowned as she saw me lugging two huge shopping bags inside. “Back this late?” I lowered my head and murmured an apology. The moment I entered the room, Jason popped his head out from his bunk. “Working late again?” I stowed the bags beneath my desk. “Yeah.” The top of one bag wasn’t tied properly, exposing a brand-new cashmere coat with its price tag still attached. My other roommate, Marcus, caught sight of it and smirked. “Thought you were doing the Zero Dollar Challenge? Buying eighteen-hundred-dollar coats now?” “It’s not mine.” He clearly didn’t believe me. “Your brother posted on Instagram saying you’re helping him sell his old clothes and keeping the cash. Man, you really know how to find loopholes in your own challenge.” I pulled out my phone. Kevin had posted a new update thirty minutes ago. My brother works so hard! I gave him my unworn clothes to sell so he can earn extra cash. He says this is true self-reliance. The attached photo was a shot of my back as I walked away lugging those two massive bags. The comment section was filled with people praising his unmatched kindness. Your brother is so lucky to have a younger brother like you! I placed my phone face down on the desk. The next morning, I washed the clothes, hung them to dry, and took photos for the listing. While checking the pockets of one coat, a crumpled paper receipt fell out. Payer: Freya Shen. Amount: $1,890. Date of Purchase: The exact day I visited the community office for hardship verification. On the back of the receipt, a line was written in blue ink. Elijah’s tuition money. No rush. Let Kevin use it first. It was my mother’s handwriting. I stared at those words for a very long time. So it wasn’t that my family was broke. My tuition money had literally been stolen to buy a coat for Kevin. Monday morning, inside the advisor’s office. Ms. Harper placed the tuition notice before me. “The university can only extend your deadline by three more days.” I nodded. “I’m trying to raise the funds, Ms. Harper.” “Your family…” Before she could finish her sentence, the office door pushed open. Mom stood at the entrance, a polite, refined smile plastered across her face. “Ms. Harper, I am so sorry. Elijah has been causing you so much trouble.” She was dressed impeccably, holding an expensive fruit basket in her hand. Ms. Harper paused, surprised. “You are Elijah’s mother?” Mom placed the fruit basket neatly on the desk. “Yes. Our family isn’t facing any financial distress, but Elijah has been stubborn since he was a boy, insisting on earning his own keep. His father has been sick with worry over this.” I stood beside them, feeling as if my clothes had been stripped away in public. Ms. Harper turned to look at me. “Elijah, is this true?” Underneath the desk, Mom reached out and pinched my wrist with brutal force. Her sharp fingernails dug deep into my flesh. “Elijah, explain everything to your advisor clearly. Don’t let people misunderstand your father and me.” I stared at her manicured hand. That very hand had posted a picture of Kevin’s new grand piano in the family group chat just last night. My lips trembled. Mom’s fingernails dug a little deeper. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. Mom smiled with utter satisfaction. “Ms. Harper, he just loves to push himself too hard. Of course we will pay his tuition, but since he insisted on taking this challenge, as parents, we wanted to respect his independence.” Ms. Harper fell completely silent. Before leaving, Mom leaned close to my ear, her voice dripping with venom. “If you dare play the poor victim out in public again, I will make sure you lose your dorm room.” After she left, Ms. Harper pushed the fruit basket back toward me. “Take it.” I didn’t move. The autumn wind outside the window fluttered the corner of the unpaid tuition notice. Ms. Harper suddenly asked, “Elijah, is something going on at home?” My throat felt locked shut. My phone vibrated on the desk. A photo from Mom popped up. My ID card was pressed firmly under the signed commitment letter. Below it was a text: Think carefully before you open your mouth again. Right at that moment, another text notification popped up from an unknown number. Elijah, this is Mrs. Jenkins, your late grandmother’s neighbor. You’re eighteen now, and there are things that belong to you that need to be returned. Don’t tell your parents. Meet me tomorrow at 3 PM at the old Elm Street cottage.

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1 The day before we were supposed to register our marriage, my fiancée took her papers and walked into City Hall with Brandon instead. I stood around the corner of the corridor, listening to her phone call on speaker. Her friend’s frantic voice bled through the receiver. “What about Jesse?” “You two have been together for seven years. Are you seriously marrying another man?” A long silence stretched before Lauren spoke, her voice infuriatingly soft. “Jesse will understand. Brandon’s mother doesn’t have much time left. It’s just a fake marriage. As soon as she passes, I’ll file for divorce.” Her friend hesitated. “But he’s waited for you for seven years.” Lauren gave a faint, quiet laugh. “That’s exactly why he won’t leave me over a single month.” I stood frozen in the quiet hallway. My fingers were still clutching a small gift bag filled with wedding chocolates meant for the clerks. I didn’t rush in to confront her. I didn’t cry or beg her to turn around. I simply walked over to the desk, canceled my reservation, and left. What she failed to realize was simple. A wedding can wait, and love can take its time. But I refused to tie the rest of my life to someone who was so utterly convinced I would wait for her forever. … When I canceled the appointment, the clerk looked at me twice. “Are you sure? Slots for today were nearly impossible to get.” I nodded. My phone buzzed in my palm. A text from Lauren. [A sudden emergency came up at work. Let’s push off the marriage license for a few days. Don’t be mad, I’ll explain everything tonight.] I stared at the screen for a long time. Then I shoved the chocolates into my bag and walked out into the cool afternoon air. I still had classes to teach. I returned to the elementary school where I worked as a second-grade teacher. During my lesson on a fable about a little pony crossing a river, a boy in the front row raised his hand. “Mr. Jesse, did the pony cross the river by himself in the end?” I gripped the piece of chalk, my mind drifting for a few seconds before I found my voice. “Yes. He did.” “Wasn’t he scared?” the boy asked again. I forced a faint smile. “Even if you’re scared, you still have to cross.” After class, a few fellow teachers gathered around my desk, teasing me about why I hadn’t taken my wedding leave. “Aren’t you supposed to get registered today? Did Lauren come pick you up?” “Where are the wedding sweets? Don’t hoard them!” I pulled out the bag of chocolates from my briefcase and handed them out. The summer heat had melted the cocoa slightly, sticking to the foil wrappers. My colleagues assumed I was just shy and kept laughing. I laughed along with them. Only the corners of my mouth felt stiff and bitter. That evening, Lauren called. “Jesse, have you eaten yet?” In the background, I could hear the faint chime of a hospital intercom, accompanied by a man’s quiet weeping. I didn’t expose her lie. “No.” “I am so sorry about today. Something urgent happened on Brandon’s side. His mother is in critical condition and her mind is slipping. She keeps crying that no one will look after him when she’s gone.” I sat alone in the empty classroom, watching the stadium lights flicker on across the sports field one by one. “So you got married to him?” The line went completely dead quiet. After a long pause, Lauren lowered her voice. “You know?” “Yeah.” She let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Jesse, it’s just a formality. Mrs. Dawson sponsored my tuition years ago. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have even finished high school. This is her last wish on her deathbed. I can’t just ignore it.” “So you used our marriage to repay your debt of gratitude?” “Don’t put it like that,” Lauren’s voice grew sharp and rushed. “You know who is in my heart. There is zero possibility between Brandon and me. Once Mrs. Dawson passes, I’ll file for divorce immediately. At most a month, and we can get registered.” At most a month. She said it so casually, as if I had simply stepped into the wrong line at a grocery store and just needed to switch counters. I asked quietly, “Was it really that hard to tell me in advance?” “I was afraid you’d overthink things.” “You already went behind my back, and you’re still worried about me overthinking?” Lauren pinched the bridge of her nose, her voice raspy with exhaustion. “Jesse, my head is spinning today. Mrs. Dawson is in the ICU, and Brandon is completely overwhelmed. I know you feel wronged, but I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” Later. Over the past seven years, those two words had been her constant promise. Later, I’ll take you on that trip. Later, I’ll plan a proper proposal. Later, I’ll turn the balcony of our new place into that cozy study you wanted. Later. Always later. And today, when my entire life was derailed by her choice, she still thought it was just a minor delay. I hung up the phone. Ten minutes later, a social media notification popped up on my feed. Brandon had posted a picture. Beside a hospital bed, his hand rested over the back of Lauren’s hand. The corner of a red marriage certificate peeked out from under his wrist. The caption read: [Thank you for finally giving my mother peace of mind.] The comment section under our mutual friends list was blowing up. [Congrats? Is this official now?] [Brandon finally has someone to take care of him.] [Lauren is amazing. Mrs. Dawson didn’t love you in vain.] Lauren had even clicked the like button. She probably believed it was merely a temporary comfort for a dying mentor’s son. I stared at the screen until my eyes burned with unshed tears. Late that night, I drove to our new condo. We had bought the apartment last year. I had poured every single penny of my savings, accumulated from college side jobs to my teaching salary, into the down payment. When it was being renovated, Lauren was busy with her corporate projects, so I spent every evening after work running around the home improvement markets. Yet when I unlocked the front door, Brandon was sitting on my sofa, wearing my house slippers. His eyes were rimmed with red. The moment he saw me, he scrambled to his feet. “Jesse, please don’t misunderstand. My mom was transferred to the hospital nearby tonight. Lauren was worried I’d collapse from running back and forth, so she told me to rest here for a bit. I won’t touch any of your things.” He was holding my favorite coffee mug in his hand. It was part of a matching couple’s set I had carefully bought for Lauren and me to use after getting married. Lauren stepped out of the kitchen, holding a spatula. “Why are you here?” I looked at her, my voice eerily calm. “This is my house. Am I not allowed to come?” Lauren’s expression stiffened. “That’s not what I meant. Brandon has been running around all day, and the hospital cot is too small for him.” Brandon hastily put down the mug. “I’ll leave right now. Jesse, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. Please don’t fight with Lauren because of me. She hasn’t eaten all day and spent the entire time helping my mom with paperwork.” He grabbed his bag to leave, taking two shaky steps before stumbling. Lauren instantly stepped forward to catch him by the arm. “Why are you forcing yourself?” Tears spilled from Brandon’s eyes. “I just don’t want to make Jesse upset.” Lauren turned to look at me, her eyes filled with frustration. “Jesse, his mother is still in intensive care. Just let him stay the night. I’ll take him back to the hospital tomorrow.” I let out a soft laugh. “I let him?” She didn’t catch the bitter sarcasm in my tone, assuming I was yielding. “Thank you.” Those two words stung worse than any screaming match. That night, Brandon slept in the guest room. That room was supposed to be my study. The desk by the window was where I had planned to grade homework assignments in the evening. Now, it was cluttered with Brandon’s work notes, medical records, and his thermos. He apologized with utmost timidness. “I was afraid my stuff would look eyesore in the living room, so I put it here for now. I promise to pack it all up tomorrow.” Lauren brought out a pot of soup from the kitchen. “Jesse, sit down and eat first. Your stomach is sensitive. Don’t throw a fit on an empty stomach.” She spoke so naturally, as if today were just an ordinary disagreement. I sat at the dining table, looking down at the two sets of utensils laid out. Lauren froze for a second, then went back to the kitchen to fetch a third set. Brandon spoke up softly. “I won’t eat. You two go ahead, I’ll stay in my room.” Lauren frowned. “You have low blood sugar, you can’t skip meals. Sit down.” He stole a glance at me, then slowly pulled out a chair. Throughout that entire meal, I didn’t touch a single bite. Noticing my stillness, Lauren used her chopsticks to place a shrimp in my bowl. “You like these.” Brandon drank his soup in silence when his phone suddenly chimed with a video call. “Lauren… my mom is awake. She wants to see us on video.” Lauren’s hand froze mid-air. I lifted my head to look at her. Brandon blinked rapidly, his eyes flushing red again. “I know I shouldn’t bother you, but the doctor said her conscious moments are limited. I’m scared she’ll drift off again.” Lauren stayed silent for a moment, then pulled a napkin to wipe her hands. “Answer it.” The call connected. On the screen, an elderly woman wore an oxygen mask, her voice faint and labored. “Brandon… where is my daughter-in-law?” Brandon tilted the camera toward Lauren. Lauren leaned down, her tone softening completely. “Mrs. Dawson, I’m right here.” The old woman smiled weakly, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “Good… good… With you taking care of Brandon, I can rest easy.” Lauren’s eyes flickered with a tremor of guilt. “Just focus on recovering.” I sat right beside them, looking like an awkward intruder in my own home. Suddenly, Brandon fumbled around his hands in panic. “Mom, look, I’m wearing the ring.” His hands were completely bare. The old woman couldn’t see clearly, straining her failing eyes against the screen. “The ring… yes… a marriage needs rings.” Brandon froze in place. Lauren instinctively turned her head toward me. I met her gaze, cold and unblinking. Inside the nightstand drawer in the master bedroom was the set of wedding bands we had picked out together. I had foolishly thought she would draw the line here. Instead, she stood up and walked straight into the main bedroom. The sound of a drawer opening echoed through the quiet apartment. A moment later, she returned carrying the velvet ring box. She opened it, took out my men’s band, and held it out to Brandon. “Put it on for now.” I stared at her, entirely rendered speechless. Brandon shook his head in panic. “No, I can’t. This belongs to Jesse.” Lauren didn’t look at me. Her voice was steady and quiet. “Just to put Mrs. Dawson at ease.” She personally slid the ring onto Brandon’s ring finger. The size was wrong. Brandon’s fingers were thinner than mine, and the metal hung loosely on his joint. He forced a smile toward the camera, but as he smiled, tears streamed down his face. “Mom, look. We’re really married.” The old woman finally closed her eyes with a peaceful smile. Lauren let out a long breath of relief. I finally stood up. My chair scraped against the hardwood floor with a sharp, deafening screech. Lauren turned around. “Jesse, where are you going?” I walked into the master bedroom, pulled my clothes out of the closet, and began tossing them into a duffel bag. Lauren followed me in, closing the door firmly behind her. “Stop acting like this. Mrs. Dawson doesn’t have much time left. I can’t trigger her right now.” “So you trigger me instead?” “You’re completely healthy! Do you really have to hold a grudge against a dying patient?” I looked up at her. The moment those words left her mouth, the air in the room turned bone-chilling cold. Lauren seemed to realize how harsh she sounded. She reached out, trying to pull me into an embrace. “Jesse, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just so exhausted.” I stepped back, avoiding her touch. Her arms hung awkwardly in mid-air. From outside, a soft knock sounded at the door. Brandon’s voice drifted in. “Lauren, your parents are on the phone. They’re asking about the final details for the wedding banquet.” Lauren’s brows knitted even tighter. She answered the call and put it on speaker. Her mother’s sharp voice rang out immediately. “Lauren, what is going on with you and Jesse? The venue coordinator said the final payment hasn’t been confirmed yet. Your father’s colleagues have already been invited. Don’t make a fool out of us!” Lauren stole a glance at me. “Mom, the wedding might need to be postponed.” “Why?” Lauren went silent. Brandon stood near the doorway, his face pale. Finally, Lauren spoke up. “Jesse hasn’t been in a good mood lately. We pushed back getting our license, too.” The shirt in my hand slipped and dropped to the floor. Her mother instantly blew up on the phone. “Why is Jesse suddenly throwing a tantrum? You’ve been together for seven years, what is he pulling right before the finish line? You’re so busy with work, and he’s just a schoolteacher with plenty of free time. Can’t he be a little more understanding?” I stared at Lauren. She offered no explanation. She didn’t even say a single word to clarify that none of this was my fault. After the call ended, Brandon looked at me with rimmed, teary eyes. “Jesse, I’m so sorry. Did your mother-in-law misunderstand you? I can go explain it to her.” Lauren stopped him. “Don’t make things more complicated.” A bitter smile tugged at my lips. So in the end, I was the one making things complicated. I didn’t manage to leave that night. At midnight, Brandon ran a high fever, and Lauren rushed him to the emergency room in a panic. Before stepping out the door, she urged me, “Jesse, go to sleep first. I’ll come back as soon as he finishes his IV drip.” I stood in the center of the living room. “Lauren, today was supposed to be our registration day.” Her footsteps paused as she supported Brandon’s weight. “I know.” “You know, yet you’re leaving me alone here?” Brandon weakly tugged at her sleeve. “Maybe I should just go by myself.” Lauren didn’t budge, her eyes suppressed with rising anger. “Can you stop backing me into a corner at a time like this?” I let out a cold laugh. “I’m backing you into a corner?” “Brandon has a fever of a hundred and three, Jesse! A human life is at stake!” In a daze, I recalled the past few weeks. Every single one of Brandon’s tears, every moment of his fragility, always seemed immeasurably more important than me. The door clicked shut. I sat alone in the living room until the sky began to pale. Just as dawn broke, Lauren returned. Seeing me sitting on the sofa, she froze for a moment, her tone softening slightly. “Why didn’t you sleep?” I remained silent. She walked over and knelt down in front of me. “Jesse, I was wrong yesterday. I shouldn’t have said those things. Once Mrs. Dawson’s condition stabilizes, I’ll take you to the coast for a getaway, okay? Haven’t you always wanted to watch the sunrise over the ocean?” In the past, hearing those words would have melted my heart in an instant. Now, all I felt was a hollow, soul-crushing fatigue. Her phone screen lit up on the coffee table. A text from Brandon: [Lauren, my mom woke up and asked for you again. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t keep troubling you.] The moment Lauren saw the message, she reflexively stood up. I raised my head. “You’re leaving again?” “Mrs. Dawson needs me right now.” “Then what about me?” She stared at me in surprise. I asked her, word by word, “What am I to you right now?” Lauren pressed her knuckles against her temples. “Jesse, stop going down a rabbit hole. Of course you’re the man I’m going to marry.” “But Brandon is your legal husband.” Her face darkened instantly. “That’s just a piece of paper!” “A marriage certificate defines a marriage.” “Jesse!” It was the first time she had ever shouted at me in that harsh, sharp tone. Regretting it immediately, she lowered her voice. “I really don’t have the energy to fight with you right now. Just give me some time.” “How long?” “A month.” “Divorce registration comes with a mandatory thirty-day waiting period.” Lauren blinked, completely stunned. Evidently, she hadn’t even bothered to look into the basic legal procedures. Looking at her bewildered expression, I suddenly lost all urge to question her further. She didn’t even understand the consequences, yet she dared to gamble with my entire life. Her phone rang again. Brandon was calling directly this time. She picked up. Brandon was sobbing hysterically into the line. “Lauren, my mom says she wants to go home. Does she know she isn’t going to make it? I’m so scared, I’m really so scared…” Lauren closed her eyes tightly. “I’m coming over right now.” Hanging up, she looked down at me. “Jesse, wait for me to get back. We’ll have a proper talk.” I didn’t answer. She walked to the front door, pausing at the threshold. “I know you’re furious, but you wouldn’t actually throw me away. We’ve been together for seven years.” My chest ached with a sudden, sharp spasm. Seven years. She had finally turned those seven years into her ultimate bargaining chip. After Lauren left, I began packing my belongings. I didn’t own much. When my bag was packed, I went into the guest room to gather my books. The door was slightly ajar. Brandon’s backpack was unzipped on the desk, revealing a paper document inside. I hadn’t intended to pry. Yet the bold heading on the page—Application for Marriage Dissolution—was too glaring to ignore. The document was dated yesterday. Tucked inside was a small sticky note filled with Brandon’s neat handwriting: [Mandatory 30-day reflection period. Both parties must appear within 30 days after the period ends. If one party fails to show up, the application is automatically revoked.] He had known all along. Lauren was the only one kept in the dark. Or rather, she simply hadn’t cared enough to check. I placed the document back into his bag. Just as I turned to leave, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. They were back. Brandon was weeping softly. “Lauren, did I ruin things between you and Jesse? He must hate me so much.” Lauren let out a tired sigh. “No, he’s just finding it hard to accept right now.” “But… will he really leave you?” Lauren remained silent for a short moment, then replied in a quiet, unwavering tone: “He won’t.” Brandon sniffled. “How can you be so sure?” “Jesse will wait for me. He can’t bring himself to let me go.” Standing behind the bedroom door, my tightly clenched fist slowly uncurled. She was right. In the past, I couldn’t bring myself to let her go. I couldn’t bear to see her work late without a warm meal. I couldn’t bear to let her handle tough work projects alone. I couldn’t bear seeing her smile through her tears after being scolded by her boss. I held onto far too many things. And that was precisely why she felt so comfortably safe when she tore my heart apart. In that singular moment, the very last flicker of hope I held for her shattered into dust. Suddenly, I didn’t want to fight for anything anymore. I opened the nightstand, walked to the dining room, and laid my wedding ring on the table. Right next to it, I placed the unfinished bag of wedding chocolates. Before leaving, I took one final look at the apartment. Every single piece of furniture had been handpicked by me, yet the space suddenly felt utterly foreign. I opened the front door. The two people standing outside turned to look at me simultaneously. Lauren asked, “Where are you going?” “Back to the school dorms.” She frowned. “It’s so late, stop throwing a fit.” She reached out, grabbing my wrist tightly. “Jesse, once Brandon’s mother passes, I promise I’ll give you a proper explanation.” I pried her fingers off my wrist, one by one. “There’s no need.” “Lauren… we’re through.”

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1 On my wedding day to Gideon, my father stood before high-society guests to deliver his speech. But at the altar receiving blessings were Gideon and his childhood sweetheart, Amy, hand in hand. Father gripped his speech, trembling, as he spotted me in plain clothes at the back of the hall. His heart bled for me. Gideon offered a chilling smile. “Speak up, Father-in-law. We wouldn’t want gossip that the family bullies a poor orphan girl.” The groomsmen laughed. “Amy’s always been our real sister-in-law! If her parents hadn’t died, you wouldn’t be up there!” Father swallowed his humiliation and kept reading for my sake. Amy had planned the entire wedding, with decorations to her taste and her friends as bridesmaids. Because she was an orphan, my parents were forced to bless her on stage. “Gideon,” I asked quietly, “do you even remember whose wedding this is?” He frowned. “Amy just wanted to experience being a bride. Stop being narrow-minded. It’s not like I’m refusing to register our marriage later.” After a long silence, I nodded. “If that’s the case, I’ll find someone else to experience being a bride with. My actual fiancé.” … Gideon burst out laughing. He looked down at me as if watching a throw an embarrassing, childish tantrum to save face. “Don’t make me laugh. You aren’t some high-society heiress. Where would you get a fiancé?” “Besides me, who else would ever marry you?” Amy covered her mouth, giggling softly. Her lavish bridal gown shimmered dazzingly under the crystal chandeliers. That exact gown was the one I had fallen in love with at first sight while planning the wedding. Gideon had even told me how beautiful I looked in it. Yet the moment Amy mentioned she liked it too, Gideon bought it for her without a second thought. Amy claimed her childhood dream was to have a grand wedding and be the most beautiful bride. So the wedding that belonged to me was handed over to her on a silver platter. And I was left standing in the dark corner of the hall, enduring the cold, mocking, and pitying gazes of the guests. When my father finished reading the speech, he seemed to have aged ten years in a single moment. Looking at me in the corner, his eyes swelled with sorrow. In the end, he simply stooped his back and let out a long, heavy sigh. Gideon swept a condescending glance over my father. “Father-in-law, on such a joyous day, please refrain from sighing.” “I wouldn’t want Amy’s happiness to be ruined by your constant sighing.” My father lowered his head even further, stammering an apology. “I… I’m sorry, son-in-law. It’s all my fault. Please… please don’t take it out on my daughter…” I bit my lip so hard I almost drew blood, fighting back the burning tears in my eyes. My father was a retired, respected schoolteacher who had lived his whole life with dignity. This was the first time he had ever lowered himself so humbly before anyone. All because Gideon was the man I had insisted on marrying. He just wanted me to be happy. “Understood,” Gideon replied coolly. “As long as you cooperate, I won’t blame her.” The wedding host stepped in with a practiced smile. “Now, the father of the bride may take the bride’s hand and hand her over to the groom!” “Eww! I don’t want this old man holding my hand! What if he takes advantage of me?” Amy whined in disgust. My father rushed to explain. “Miss Amy! I would never do such a thing! My family comes from generations of educators, we would never…” Gideon cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. “Amy is young, her concern is understandable. Father-in-law, just make a gesture. Don’t actually touch her.” “Alright… alright.” My father’s embarrassment deepened. His hands fumbled nervously with the hem of his suit. That suit was the one he had bought five years ago when he first met Gideon. It was outdated, yet ironed so meticulously that not a single wrinkle showed. I felt more sneering eyes drifting toward me. Amy’s bridesmaids stood nearby, throwing malicious glances my way as they whispered loudly. “How embarrassing! If I were her, I’d find a rope and hang myself right now! How does she even have the nerve to stand here?” “Gross! Don’t say that! If she dies here, Amy will think it brings bad luck!” Finally, one of the groomsmen who grew up with Gideon couldn’t bear it anymore. He patted my shoulder, whispering softly, “Don’t take it to heart. They’re just messing around. Actually…” “Actually, we all know Gideon still cares about you in his heart. He just pities Amy because she lost her parents. He treats her like a sister.” I nodded quietly, subtly shifting my shoulder to avoid his touch. On stage, my father walked Amy through the sea of flowers. Without touching her, he gestured toward Gideon, placing her hand into Gideon’s grip. Amy smiled sweetly, letting Gideon slide a massive diamond ring onto her ring finger. Thunderous applause erupted across the hall. I lowered my eyes and pulled out my phone, scrolling to the very bottom of my contact list. The last message in our chat history was sent by him a year ago. [YES OR NO?] After a full year of silence, I finally typed my reply. [YES, I DO.] 2 After the ceremony ended, the feast began. Gideon walked arm-in-arm with Amy, going from table to table offering toasts. The two of them showered in the blessings of the crowd. It was only when Amy went backstage to change into her second gown that Gideon finally remembered my existence. Seeing me sitting alone in the corner, he strolled over and affectionately pinched my nose. “Still throwing a tantrum? It’s a happy day, eat something.” He grabbed an orange from the table, carefully peeling it for me. He remembered that I disliked the white pith, so he patiently stripped every last bit of it away. “I’ve served you personally, are you finally done being mad?” Gideon leaned in with a smirk, planting a kiss on my cheek. “I told you, Amy is just a younger sister I protect. You’re my wife, which makes you her sister-in-law. Can’t you just yield to her a little?” A suffocating lump lodged in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Just as I reached out to take the peeled orange, a sudden wave of murmurs swept through the hall. “The bride is back! Look at that gown! She looks stunning!” Gideon’s attention was instantly snatched away. Amy had changed into a vibrant red mermaid gown, stepping gracefully into the hall. Unconcealed admiration filled Gideon’s eyes. Without a second thought, he turned on his heel and walked straight toward her, completely abandoning my hand hanging mid-air. Below the stage, Gideon’s friends and Amy’s bridesmaids began hooting together. “Whoo! May you be blessed with a baby soon! We’ll come back for the month-old celebration!” “Now this is what I call a gorgeous couple! Not like some people who look miserable and unlucky all day long!” “Alright, it’s a happy occasion, don’t say such things,” Gideon scolded the bridesmaid softly, though a smile played on his lips. He took Amy’s hand into his. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s make the rounds for the toasts.” The first table they visited was the immediate family table. Gideon’s parents held up their wine glasses, looking at Amy with immense warmth and affection. “Our Gideon has been close with Amy since they were kids. We’ve been waiting to drink your wedding wine for years.” “Here, take this.” Gideon’s mother unclasped a fine, glowing jade bracelet from her own wrist and slipped it onto Amy’s hand. “Wonderful, it suits you perfectly. This was passed down from Gideon’s great-grandmother. It’s good to see it go to the right person.” “Thank you, Auntie!” Amy squealed with joy, caressing the smooth jade. My parents sat on the other side of the table. Under the mockery of the entire room, the backs of the two elderly people, who had stood tall their whole lives, finally slumped in defeat. I bit my lower lip so hard that my fingers dug into the wooden armrest of my chair, drawing blood under my nails. “Oh, right,” Gideon’s mother added nonchalantly. “We have one for the other girl as well. Our family doesn’t favor one over the other.” “Come over here, Gwen. What does it look like, sitting there all by yourself? Do you even remember that you’re supposed to be our daughter-in-law?” I let out a soundless laugh, though there was no joy in my eyes. I wondered if anyone in this crowded room actually remembered that I was the one marrying into their family. Still, I walked over to Gideon’s mother. “…Mother.” “Mmm,” she responded coldly, pulling out another jade bracelet from her bag. It was also white jade, but while Amy’s was translucent and luminous, mine was dull, milky, and completely opaque under the light. Gideon stared at it in surprise. “Mom! Isn’t that bracelet made from the leftover scraps of Amy’s jade? Why are you giving that to Gwen?” “The quality of the person determines the quality of the bracelet,” his mother replied dismissively. The bright lights overhead hit me like a physical blow. I felt as though I had been slapped across the face in front of everyone. I accepted the bracelet, lowered my head, and quickly turned to leave. Gideon chased after me. He blocked my path at the entrance, his tone coaxing. “Gwen, don’t be mad. You know how my mom is. Amy grew up right under her eyes.” “Don’t hold it against them. Be good, okay? When the wedding is over, I’ll buy you a much better bracelet.” I smiled softly. When Gideon proposed to me, he gave me an engagement ring worth ten thousand dollars. At the time, I felt it was far too expensive and spent weeks looking for a gift to return the gesture. Yet today, he casually handed Amy a diamond ring worth millions. I shook my head, gently pushing his hand away. “There’s no need.” “You don’t need to blame your mother.” After all, you are no different from her. 3 When the banquet ended, my parents found me in the lobby. “Gwen… we’re planning to head back early.” My hometown was a coastal town in the south, and my parents had traveled all the way here specifically for my wedding. I hadn’t expected them to leave before the event was even fully over. I knew I had disgraced them. “…I’ll book your flight tickets,” I said, my voice thick with guilt. Gideon stepped up behind us at that moment. He frowned. “Mom, Dad, the reception isn’t over yet. So many guests are still here, it’s not proper for you to leave now.” My mother finally snapped. She raised her hand and delivered a ringing slap across Gideon’s face! Tears streamed down her face as she yelled, “Gideon! My daughter has done nothing wrong to you! Our family saved your life, and this is how you humiliate her?!” Gideon’s eyes darkened, but out of respect for my mother, he restrained himself. “I’ve said it again and again, Gwen is my only wife. How am I humiliating her?” he declared coldly. “Amy and I grew up together. Everyone in our circle assumed we would end up together.” “Even though I only view Amy as a sister, I had to give her this respect today.” Though he spoke to my mother, his dark, accusing gaze landed squarely on me. “Gwen, you are being completely unreasonable.” I didn’t know who was truly being unreasonable. Six years ago, Gideon and a few friends took a sailboat out to sea after graduation. They ran into a severe storm and suffered a shipwreck. Fortunately, the accident occurred near the peninsula where my family lived. I rescued Gideon and his friends, including Amy. I had intended to send them back as soon as they recovered. Yet when Gideon woke up, he refused to leave. He sent everyone else away, insisting that Amy go home first despite her tearful protests. He stayed at my house for an entire summer. During those months, I took him to the beach to catch crabs, taught him how to fish, and showed him how to read the weather at sea. Every time, his eyes would light up with admiration. “Gwen, you’re amazing. You’re like a goddess of the sea.” I laughed at his exaggerated praise. “I just grew up by the coast. My mom is a doctor, my dad is a teacher, and I’m just a normal student.” “I don’t care. To me, you’re the most incredible girl I’ve ever met.” On a clear, breezy afternoon, we took a small boat out onto the calm water. We lay side by side on the deck, watching sea birds glide across the blue sky. “Gwen, be my girlfriend.” “I promise to treat you well in this life, the next life, and every life after that.” I agreed. Back then, I had no idea that the Gu family was a massive corporate empire, or that a simple girl like me was far out of his league. Later, when I discovered he was an heir to a elite family in the capital, I tried to end things multiple times. Yet Gideon refused to let go. “I don’t care about any of that! I told you, I will only love you forever! Gwen, you can’t abandon me!” My heart softened. Even my parents, who initially opposed our relationship, were moved by his relentless persistence. At Gideon’s earnest begging, I packed my bags and moved to the capital alone. Yet I had forgotten that Gideon had a precious younger sister named Amy. Over the past few years, Amy mocked me, belittled me, and tried to humiliate me in front of the entire social circle. I endured it all, reminding myself that her parents had died young and that she grew up alongside Gideon. Gideon kept reassuring me that he had no intention of marrying Amy. “She is just a sister to me.” Even though I had saved Amy’s life back then, she once threw a kitchen knife at me during a tantrum. Despite my quick reflexes, a chunk of flesh was sliced from my thigh. To this day, a jagged scar remains on my leg. That night, Gideon held me frantically as he rushed me to the hospital in the pouring rain, even getting into a massive fight with Amy for the first time. I had wanted to break things off then, but seeing Gideon’s terrified, heartbroken expression like an abandoned puppy, my heart melted again. I closed my eyes tightly. This time, my heart would not soften again. My phone vibrated in my palm. The man had replied to my message. [I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses.] [My Miss Mercer.] 4 Gideon blocked my parents from leaving and refused to let me book their flight, forcing them to stay at the hotel. That evening, a group of groomsmen and bridesmaids gathered in the hallway, clamoring to crash the bridal suite. Gideon frowned. “What era are we living in? Let’s skip these crude pranks.” “Haha, come on, Gideon! It’s all just for fun and to bring good luck!” “Don’t worry, we’re just fooling around to create a lively atmosphere!” Amy stood beside them, giggled softly. She threw a calculating glance at me. “Gideon said his wife is Gwen. Since that’s the case, you guys should give Gwen a proper initiation!” I froze, stepping back. Before I could ask what she meant, the crowd cheered in agreement as if it had all been orchestrated in advance. “Right! Gwen is the real Mrs. Gu! Come on, Mrs. Gu, step inside!” “Mrs. Gu, you wouldn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun, would you?” Realizing something was terribly wrong, I refused loudly, but the groomsmen and bridesmaids grabbed my arms, forcefully dragging me into the hotel suite. It was just a luxury hotel room set up for the wedding night. They threw me onto the bed covered in red silk sheets. I scrambled to climb off, but several hands pinned me down with loud, mocking laughter. Through the door, I heard my parents crying out in terror. “No! What are you doing to Gwen?! Gideon! Gideon, stop them!” Gideon’s voice sounded hesitant outside. Yet in the end, he spoke up, “It’s fine, Mom, Dad. I’ll watch them to make sure they don’t go too far.” “It’s just a harmless prank to bring good fortune to the wedding.” “Gideon!!!” My mother’s voice cracked in utter despair. I closed my eyes as hot tears spilled from the corners of my eyes. My hair was torn messily around my shoulders, and I could only use my hands to cover my torn clothing as best as I could. Until a cold, commanding voice echoed at the doorway. “What do you think you’re doing to my fiancée?” A brief, dead silence fell over the room, followed by gasps of shock. “Mr. Gavin?! What… what are you doing here?!” The next second, I was lifted into a firm, warm pair of arms. A rich scent of cedar and bergamot wrapped around me as a soft wool blanket was draped over my body, covering my torn dress completely. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he rasped quietly. I opened my eyes, meeting Gideon’s furious, disbelieving gaze a few feet away. “Gavin?! Why the hell are you here? Who are you calling your fiancée?!” The man holding me answered calmly, “Gwen is my fiancée.” “We are registering our marriage tomorrow, and holding our wedding the day after.” “Im possible!!!” Gideon charged into the room, reaching out to tear me away from Gavin. “What nonsense are you spewing?! Gwen is my wife! She’s the future matriarch of the Gu family!” “Today was our wedding! What does any of this have to do with you, you bastard?!” Gavin let out a cold, mocking smirk. “Today? Your wedding with Gwen?” His dark eyes drifted meaningfully toward Amy standing at the door. Amy stood frozen like a stone statue, her face pale with shock. “Then what about her?” Gavin asked. “Amy is just my sister!” “Sister?” Gavin’s large hand held me securely against his chest, preventing Gideon from touching a single thread of my clothes. “Holding a wedding, wearing bridal gowns, reciting vows, and exchanging rings with your ‘sister’?” “How… how do you know all that…” Gideon stammered. “Because I have been waiting for this day for ten whole years.” “Because I knew that a man like you could never give Gwen happiness, nor do you deserve to. So, I am replacing you.” Gavin didn’t waste another second on the crowd. Carrying me in his arms, he strode out of the suite, while his assistants promptly escorted my parents out behind us. I leaned against Gavin’s warm, solid chest. Behind us, Gideon screamed my name hysterically, giving chase with everything he had. I never turned back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “599298”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I used to cover every single expense for our extended family’s overseas vacations. I used my airline elite status to upgrade their flight tickets, redeemed my hotel points for executive suites, and even pre-paid all the airport transfers and Ubers. Everyone got used to it. Occasionally, someone would post a nine-photo grid on social media with a location tag, and that was the extent of their gratitude. That all changed when my aunt dragged a self-proclaimed “travel guru” into the family group chat. The moment this guru saw the pristine, non-shopping itinerary I had spent days building, she dropped a rolling-eye emoji into the chat. “Goodness, this girl sure knows how to throw money away, doesn’t she? Booking five-star luxury resorts for a simple tropical getaway? Let’s be honest, she’s just using your money to indulge herself. Folks our age can find local tour packages for a fraction of that cost.” The elders in the family immediately started hitting the like button. She followed up with another message: “As luck would have it, I have access to an exclusive insider deal. Nine days and eight nights for just nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars, all-inclusive. Meals, lodging, and transfers. I’m not making a dime on this. I just want to help my dear brothers and sisters enjoy life without getting ripped off.” I quietly opened my airline app. I had to thank this so-called expert. Finally, I could stop wasting my top-tier rewards points, stop acting as a free bilingual translator in the middle of the night, and stop getting blamed for spending too much money. Now I could go watch the Northern Lights in Scandinavia all by myself. … The expert Aunt Martha brought into the chat went by Pamela. Just last night, I had posted the full itinerary for next month’s family trip to a tropical island resort. It was a fourteen-page document detailing everything from arrival visa forms to daily dinner reservations. I had pulled three consecutive all-nighters after my day job to get it done. The group chat had been dead silent all day. Until Pamela joined. She dropped five consecutive sixty-second voice notes, all boiling down to one main point: my itinerary was a money pit. I sat in front of my laptop, watching the messages flood the screen. Aunt Martha was the first to speak up. “Nora, Pamela is right. That hotel you picked is over three hundred dollars a night. Pamela’s tour package covers eight nights for less than a grand total. The price difference is just absurd.” My younger cousin, Jake, chimed in next. “Sis, you’re used to staying in fancy places when you travel for work, but there’s no need to be so flashy when the whole family goes out together. Imagine how much duty-free shopping we could do with the money we save on those rooms.” My hands rested on the keyboard, but I didn’t type a word. That three-hundred-dollar-a-night resort wasn’t costing them a single cent. I held Titanium Elite status with the hotel chain. I had booked four ocean-view suites entirely using the three hundred thousand rewards points I had accumulated over two years of grueling business trips. I had even contacted the hotel manager in advance to ensure Aunt Martha’s room had accessible facilities and a complimentary fruit basket. The flights were no different. I had locked in spacious front-row seats for eight people using my airline perks, and I had personally covered over a thousand dollars in taxes and fees on my credit card. All these details were listed on the final three pages of the itinerary. Clearly, not a single person had read them. “I think Pamela’s deal sounds fantastic,” said Cousin Rachel, Aunt Martha’s eldest daughter. “Meals and rooms are covered, plus a dedicated tour guide. Nora, just cancel all those complicated bookings you made. We’re going with Pamela this time.” Complicated bookings. I stared at those words on the screen, then picked up my phone. Pamela dropped a payment QR code into the chat. “Alright, everyone! Spots for the nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine deal are extremely limited. Scan to transfer your payment right away so I can lock in your reservations!” Screenshots of confirmed payments immediately flooded the screen. Aunt Martha sent hers. Jake sent his. Rachel sent hers too. Aunt Martha tagged me. “Nora, hurry up and transfer your share. Let Pamela show us what real value travel looks like.” I tapped into my airline app and opened my bookings. Eight round-trip tickets. Cancel. A prompt popped up: A cancellation fee will apply. I tapped confirm. The refund processed back to my original payment method. Next, I opened the hotel app and canceled all four suite reservations. Three hundred thousand points instantly bounced back into my account balance. When everything was done, I took a screenshot of the flight cancellation confirmation and dropped it into the family chat. “Flights and hotels are canceled. I won’t be joining. Have fun on your trip with Pamela.” 2 The group chat went silent for ten seconds. Then Jake sent me a private message. “Sis, if you’re not going, that’s fine, but can you send me your airport lounge pass QR code? I want to take my girlfriend in for a free lunch before we board.” I stared at his text. On every previous trip, I had used my unlimited lounge access to bring him in. He had grown accustomed to helping himself to complimentary premium water and hot buffets, snapping photos to flex on his social media. “Lounge access is strictly tied to my personal boarding pass. If I’m not flying, you can’t get in,” I replied. Jake sent back an annoyed emoji. “Wow, you really are petty. Just because you aren’t coming, you take away our perks too? Fine, we’ll just buy fast food ourselves.” I didn’t bother replying and closed the chat. Aunt Martha posted a voice note in the main group, her tone laced with resentment. “Nora is just too delicate to handle real travel. Let her be. Pamela, how do we handle our entry visas?” Pamela replied instantly. “Don’t worry, my dear friend! Visa on arrival. Just bring your passports and let’s go. My team handles everything.” I watched Pamela’s reply, then took a sip of iced water. The standard queue for visa-on-arrival at that airport usually took three to four hours. If you wanted the express lane, you needed to pay a cash tip per person. Pamela hadn’t mentioned a single word about that. I flipped my phone face down on the desk, opened a browser tab, and began searching for first-class flights to Iceland for next month. The following afternoon, Pamela posted the official travel schedule in the group chat. It was a flashy, cluttered graphic labeled “Ultimate Tropical Paradise Tour.” I was in the middle of reviewing my confirmation email for an Icelandic Northern Lights tour when my best friend, Lauren, forwarded me a screenshot of the chat. Lauren was connected with Jake on social media, so she could see what was happening. “Nora, is your aunt’s family out of their minds?” Lauren sent a frantic voice note. “A thousand bucks for flights, hotels, and meals? Look at this itinerary. ‘Royal Jewelry Center,’ ‘Latex Mattress Experience Hall,’ ‘Exotic Snake Venom Institute.’ This is literally the textbook zero-dollar package tour scam from a decade ago!” I zoomed in on the graphic. The schedule called for a six in the morning wake-up call every day, returning to the hotel at ten at night. Out of seven days on the ground, four and a half were dedicated entirely to shopping stops. Under accommodation, it simply read “Local Luxury Hotel” without naming a single actual property. It was the classic low-cost shopping trap. The tour guide didn’t make money from the package price; they earned commissions by locking tourists inside stores until they hit forced spending quotas. I closed the image and texted Lauren back. “They’ve already paid.” Lauren was exasperated. “Your aunt has a heart condition! Sitting on a bumpy tour bus for eight hours a day to get dragged through forced shopping stalls? Can her body even handle that? Didn’t you warn them?” I thought about it for a moment, then opened the family group chat. I didn’t write a long lecture. I simply typed one clear message: “Visa on arrival requires each traveler to carry at least three hundred dollars in local cash for random customs checks. Also, the jewelry centers and latex halls on the itinerary are typically mandatory spending stops. You might want to verify if your payment covers required minimum purchases.” After sending it, I put my phone down. Three minutes later, Aunt Martha blew a fuse. “Nora, what is wrong with you? It’s bad enough you refused to come, but now you’re trying to curse us? What forced spending? Pamela explicitly said this is a friend-and-family rate! You just can’t stand seeing us get a great deal without you!” Jake was quick to chime in. “Sis, those online guides you read are completely outdated. Pamela has led dozens of tours. You think she doesn’t know how this works? Stop spreading fear.” Rachel added her own commentary. “Nora, try to be a bit more open-minded. We know you’re upset that we canceled your three-hundred-dollar-a-night hotel, but there’s no need to make up lies to slander Pamela.” I sat in front of the screen, reading those three responses. Pamela dropped a sighing emoji. “Nora, dear, I know you’re used to high-end luxury travel and look down on budget tours for ordinary folks like us. But you shouldn’t throw mud at my reputation. I’ve been in this business for years based entirely on trust. If anyone here doesn’t trust me, I will gladly refund your money right now.” Aunt Martha panicked instantly. “Pamela, don’t listen to her nonsense! We trust you completely! Nora, stop posting your bitter comments in here and ruining everyone’s mood.” I stared at the screen, tapped the group settings, scrolled all the way to the bottom, and hit the button. You have left the chat. The world went instantly quiet. I opened my payment apps and banking portal. Previously, to make things easier for Aunt Martha when she went out, I had linked her account to my card with a five-hundred-dollar monthly allowance for groceries and rideshares. I unlinked it. Next, I removed Jake from my streaming service sub-accounts and revoked Rachel’s secondary access to my shopping membership. In ten minutes, I scrubbed away every single perk and privilege my relatives had been leeching off my accounts. 3 Lauren called me immediately. “You left the group?” “I left.” I slid my printed visa documents into a clear folder. “Good for you,” Lauren snorted over the line. “I just saw Jake post a status update saying, ‘Some people just hate to see others thrive. So bitter.’ They have zero clue how much money you’ve been saving them all these years.” “They don’t need to know,” I said, sealing the folder. “I fly out to Reykjavik next Wednesday. My fifteen-day vacation was approved.” “Awesome!” Lauren cheered. “I can’t wait to see what happens when they land and the tour guide turns on them.” I didn’t comment. I opened my drawer and pulled out my passport. Over the past three years, its pages had been covered with stamps from across the globe. Every single time, I was trailing behind a crowd of relatives, acting as the designated banker, translator, and tour guide. From today on, this passport served no one but myself. A week later, I landed at Reykjavik Airport. It was twenty-three degrees Fahrenheit outside. Wrapped in my high-end winter parka, I stepped into the pre-arranged Mercedes chauffeur service. When I arrived at the Blue Lagoon luxury retreat, the front desk manager noted my elite status and upgraded my standard room directly to a private villa with its own geothermal spring, complete with two complimentary bottles of champagne. I soaked in the steaming, mineral-rich waters, gazing out at the snow-capped mountains in the distance. My phone vibrated on the waterproof ledge. Lauren had sent a few screenshots. They were posts from Aunt Martha and Jake. Aunt Martha had shared a selfie from inside a tour bus. In the background, the vinyl bus seats were torn and the window curtains were stained yellow. Her caption read: VIP Luxury Coach, away we go! Living the sweet life with Pamela! Jake had posted a photo of a hotel room. It was tiny, the sheets were visibly wrinkled, and there was water damage in the corner of the wall. His caption read: Charming local guesthouse! So authentic and cozy, way more character than those boring, copy-paste luxury chain hotels. I swiped past the images without replying. That evening, I dressed up for dinner at the hotel’s Michelin-starred restaurant. It was an extremely exclusive spot that I had booked two months in advance. At the table next to mine, a man in his fifties was struggling in broken English to discuss the wine list with the sommelier. After listening for a moment, I stepped in politely and helped him confirm the exact vintage of Burgundy he was looking for. The man walked over to thank me and handed me his business card. He was an executive director at a listed tech firm, named Mr. Prescott. “You really know your wines, Miss Nora,” Mr. Prescott said with a warm smile before returning to his seat. “I just travel frequently for work, so I’ve picked up a few things,” I replied, tucking the card away. Over the next hour, we struck up a casual conversation. He mentioned that his company was planning a high-level retreat for their executive team in Europe next month. The budget was substantial, but their internal admin team kept submitting generic proposals—either cliché tourist traps or standard golf resorts. I opened my iPad and pulled up a private Swiss itinerary I had designed for myself a while back. “Mr. Prescott, if budget isn’t a constraint, you should consider St. Moritz. Skip the overcrowded tourist peaks. Arrange a private helicopter drop on the glaciers, stay at Badrutt’s Palace, and charter a private panoramic car on the Glacier Express for your internal board meetings.” I swiped through the screen, showing him detailed route maps, hotel interiors, and a logistical backup plan calculated down to the hour. Mr. Prescott studied it intensely. Ten minutes later, he looked up at me. “Miss Nora, which firm do you work for?” I named my company. “Our internal team could never put together a plan like this,” Mr. Prescott said, pulling out his phone. “I want to hire you as an external consultant to orchestrate this executive retreat. We will pay top market consulting fees, plus cover all your travel expenses.” I looked at him calmly. “I only care about professionalism,” Mr. Prescott added as he added my contact. “What you just showed me proves you put immense care and precision into your work. I despise paying for cheap, inefficient results.” By ten that night, Mr. Prescott’s assistant had emailed a draft consulting contract to my inbox. A ten-thousand-dollar retainer, to be deposited into my account within three days. 4 I signed the agreement and hit send. I took a sip of champagne. The Icelandic night sky was brilliantly clear, and the Northern Lights began to swirl in delicate ribbons of green outside my floor-to-ceiling window. I hadn’t spent a single dime out of pocket, nor had I subsidized anyone. I had used my expertise to earn the compensation I deserved. My phone vibrated again. This time it wasn’t Lauren. It was an unlisted international call via a messaging app. I looked at the screen and knew instantly who it was. It rang six times before I pressed accept. “Nora! Nora, pick up!” Aunt Martha’s voice shrieked through the speaker, dripping with sharp hysteria and pure panic. The background noise was deafening—men shouting aggressively and women screaming in terror. I held the phone away, turned on the speaker, and set it on the table. “What is it?” my tone was flat. “Nora, you have to save us! We’re locked in!” Aunt Martha sobbed uncontrollably. “That Pamela is a fraud! She brought us to some latex mattress factory, and the tour guide locked the doors! They said if we don’t buy seven thousand dollars worth of stuff, we aren’t allowed to leave! They took all our passports!” “Where’s Jake?” I asked. “Jake tried to argue with them, and two local security guards pinned him against the wall and slapped him! Now they’ve locked him in a back room! They said if we don’t pay, they’ll call the local police to arrest us!” Aunt Martha was shaking so violently her voice was barely coherent. “Nora, send me five thousand dollars right now! No, send ten thousand! We need to buy tickets and get back home!” I looked at the ten-thousand-dollar retainer contract sitting on my tablet, then picked up my champagne glass. “Aunt Martha,” I said, my voice echoing clearly through the silent villa room. “I warned all of you in the group chat that low-cost package tours rely on forced spending. You told me I was making up lies because I couldn’t stand seeing you get a good deal.” “I was wrong! Your aunt was blind!” she screamed, desperately pleading. “Just send the money to rescue us first! We don’t know anyone here, what if something terrible happens to us?!” “I don’t have money to send you,” I said. “How could you not have money?! You stay in three-hundred-dollar hotels all the time, just swipe your card!” Aunt Martha snapped, her tone momentarily slipping back into her old, entitled habit of demanding things from me. I held my glass, looking out at the snow peaks. “Aunt Martha, let me do some math for you.” I pulled up a note on my phone. “Two years ago in Osaka, I bought round-trip tickets for six of you, which cost me three thousand five hundred dollars. Last year in Singapore, when Uncle got sick at the theme park, I covered twelve hundred dollars in medical bills and flight change fees. Over the past three years, I have spent over eleven thousand dollars of my own money on your flights, hotels, visas, and expenses.” The line went eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of the tour guide cursing in broken English in the background. “Those luxury hotels were booked with rewards points I earned by grinding late nights on business trips. Those lounge access passes were perks I earned by flying seventy segments a year.” I read off the numbers without a trace of emotion. “You thought I was wasting money, and you thought Pamela’s cheap deal was the better choice. Now you are receiving the exact level of service you paid for. That seems entirely fair.” “Nora! Are you even human?! I’m your aunt!” she screeched at the top of her lungs. “Jake is still in their hands! If you leave us to die, how are you ever going to look your parents in the eye when you get home?!”

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The day I was brought back to my ultra-wealthy family, I was immediately dumped into the most expensive prep academy in the city. My icy older sister shoved the school uniform into my arms. “We don’t raise freeloaders here. You’d better keep your head down and act invisible.” On my very first day of school, the campus queen bee poured a full glass of red wine right over my dress. The entire audience held their breath, waiting for me to burst into tears. I glanced down at my soaked dress, then suddenly began to applaud with immense enthusiasm. “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” The queen bee was dumbfounded. “Are you insane?” With tears sparkling in my eyes, I grabbed her hands tightly. “With this single splash, you have highlighted the class divide, awakened female consciousness, and exposed the absurd underbelly of elite education!” “Classmate, you are a born performance artist!” Queen bee: “…” Ten minutes later, the senior art teacher came running over, his voice trembling with sheer excitement. “Who? Who was it that just executed this live installation of Wine and Power?!” I pointed straight at the queen bee. “It was her.” Later on, her family’s corporate stock value actually skyrocketed. Yet she broke down completely over the campus-wide PA system, screaming hysterically: “I literally just wanted to bully her!” 1 The auditorium was so quiet you could hear the red wine dripping off the hem of my dress. Drip. Drip. It splattered onto the polished marble floor. Penelope, the school queen bee, stood there holding an empty crystal goblet, her triumphant smirk freezing mid-frame. Beside her, a couple of girls had already whipped out their phones. One had even angled her camera for optimal lighting. In the front row, someone was softly counting down. “Three.” “Two.” “One.” They were waiting for me to burst into tears. I didn’t cry. Instead, I began to applaud with immense enthusiasm. My applause echoed loudly through the cavernous hall, sharp and jarring. Penelope knit her brows, struggling to regain her composure. “Cora Montgomery, have you lost your mind?” Cora Montgomery. That was the shiny new name assigned to me after I was brought back to the ultra-wealthy Montgomery family. It sounded very high-class, even if it felt a little unfamiliar rolling off my tongue. I looked up at her, my gaze solemn and overflowing with respect. “Penelope, you are far too humble.” Penelope blinked. “What?” I swept my gaze across the room. Every freshman and faculty member was present. Elite prep academies really were built different. Even their crowds for witnessing a public humiliation were impeccably organized. Talk about a jackpot. I cleared my throat and lifted the soaked fabric of my skirt. “Everyone, look at this dress! Originally, it was just a standard piece of off-the-rack haute couture.” “But with this single splash of Cabernet from Penelope, it is no longer ordinary!” I continued passionately. “It now possesses conflict! Class dichotomy! Raw pain! And above all, philosophical thought!” A few students in the front row had their expressions twist in visible confusion. Behind the stage, the senior art teacher, Mr. Adler, poked his head out. He had initially come to check the stage decorations for the orientation ceremony, but hearing my speech, his footsteps halted dead in their tracks. I spotted him instantly and immediately yielded the floor to the professional. “Mr. Adler! You arrived just in time!” I called out. “Please, evaluate this from a professional standpoint. Does Penelope’s splashing gesture hold value as a piece of avant-garde performance art?” Mr. Adler adjusted his glasses, his eyes sweeping from my wine-stained gown to Penelope’s pale face. Penelope panicked. “Mr. Adler, I didn’t…” Before she could finish, I grabbed her wrist in a tight, dramatic hold. “Don’t explain yourself! True artists never rush to define their own work!” Penelope’s lips trembled. Mr. Adler took two steps closer. He stared at the wine stains dripping down my skirt for a full fifteen seconds. Then, his eyes ignited with brilliant fervor. “The fluid motion of that crimson hue… it truly carries an explosive tension that shatters conventional order!” he gasped. Dead silence fell across the auditorium. Penelope’s sidekick almost dropped her phone onto the floor. I nodded, my voice dripping with deep solemnity. “You understand me, Mr. Adler. No, wait, you understand Penelope.” Mr. Adler had fully crossed into an artistic trance. He began circling me, muttering to himself, “The subject, the oppressor, and the voyeurs… all three parties simultaneously construct a complete live installation!” The Headmaster, who had been waiting on stage to deliver his welcoming address, was now whiter than the projection screen. He hurried down the steps and whispered forcefully, “Miss Montgomery, the orientation ceremony is about to begin. Please go change your clothes immediately.” I gasped in profound shock. “Headmaster! Are you suggesting we interrupt a priceless, live artistic event?” The Headmaster choked on his words. I pressed my advantage. “Doesn’t Crestview Academy always emphasize freedom, diversity, and raw creativity? Right here, right now, Penelope has used a single glass of wine to open the very first aesthetic masterclass for our freshman cohort. Are you really going to shut this classroom down?” A vein throbbed violently on the Headmaster’s temple. His eyes darted toward the dozen phone cameras pointing directly at him. The people who had originally recorded my humiliation were now capturing bulletproof evidence of his bureaucratic dilemma. The Headmaster remained silent for three full seconds. Then, he offered a strained, painful smile. “Of course not. Our academy has always respected the creative expression of our students.” Penelope was utterly dumbfounded. I turned around, took her hand, and bowed deeply to the entire audience. “Thank you, everyone! And thank you, Penelope, for bringing us this masterpiece titled Wine and Power!” Scattered applause erupted from the crowd. Some were just here for the drama, some were coerced by the mood, and others simply hadn’t processed what had just transpired. Penelope’s face turned an unsightly shade of green and white. I leaned into her ear and whispered softly, “Don’t be nervous. When great artists first achieve fame, they always feel a bit out of their element.” She yanked her hand back violently. “Cora Montgomery, you just wait!” My eyes lit up. “Fantastic!” Penelope stared at me with intense suspicion. I beamed at her with pure sincerity. “Penelope, do you already have a second piece planned?” 2 When the orientation ceremony ended, I was summoned straight to the Headmaster’s office. Penelope was dragged in right along with me. The moment she stepped through the door, she slumped onto the leather sofa, her eyes rimmed red like a helpless little rabbit. “Headmaster, my hand really just slipped!” I nodded vigorously. “I believe her.” Penelope froze. The Headmaster paused as well. I looked at them with unyielding earnestness. “Many magnificent creations begin with a mere accident. It was true for the wine splash, and it was true when the apple hit Sir Isaac Newton on the head.” The corner of the Headmaster’s mouth twitched. Penelope clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white. “Stop making up absolute garbage!” I corrected her gently. “This isn’t garbage. This is artistic critique.” A sharp cough sounded from the doorway. I turned my head. Serena Montgomery stood in the frame. Dressed in a sharply tailored black blazer with cold, detached features, she looked so polished she barely seemed human. She was my notoriously icy older sister—the current heir to the Montgomery estate. At twenty-four, she was already sitting at board meetings, verbally shredding old corporate executives until they hung their heads in silence. The look she gave me was even colder than the day I was brought back home. “Cora.” I stood up straight instantly. “Sister.” Her gaze landed on my wine-soaked dress. “I told you to keep your head down and act invisible.” I attempted to explain. “I did keep my head down.” Serena’s face remained expressionless. “You call this keeping your head down?” I contemplated for a moment. “Perhaps my head is just naturally rebellious.” The Headmaster suddenly took a very urgent, loud gulp of water. Seeing a potential ally, Penelope whined pitifully, “Serena, my hand really slipped…” Serena cast a fleeting glance at her. “I didn’t ask you.” Penelope snapped her mouth shut, her face stiffening. Serena turned her icy gaze back to me. “It’s your very first day of school, and you’ve already made yourself famous across the entire campus.” “Sister, that’s called brand reach,” I corrected brightly. Serena stared at me. “You sound remarkably proud.” I nodded. “The viral conversion rate is indeed quite impressive.” The Headmaster finally felt compelled to interject. “Miss Montgomery, we will handle this matter appropriately. It definitely won’t tarnish the Montgomery family’s prestige.” Serena’s tone was flat. “It already has.” Cold sweat broke out on the Headmaster’s forehead. She raised her arm and handed her phone to me. The screen displayed the top trending topics. #EliteAcademyWineArt #PenelopePerformanceArt #CrestviewOrientationCeremony I blinked. “That fast?” Penelope’s face drained of color as she reached out to snatch the phone, but Serena smoothly pulled it out of reach. Serena glanced down at the analytics page. “The stock value of Penelope’s family business just jumped two points.” Silence descended upon the office. Penelope’s expression shifted from frantic distress to sheer bewilderment. I clapped my hands softly. “A stunning market debut, Penelope!” Penelope glared at me with pure venom. “Shut up!” Serena locked her phone screen. “This matter ends here.” She looked at me. “Get back to class.” I obediently turned toward the exit. As I reached the doorway, I spun around to look at Penelope one last time. She instantly threw her guard up. “What else do you want?!” I offered a glowing, genuine smile. “Penelope, today’s piece achieved a remarkably high level of execution. Next time you feel the urge to create, feel free to give me advance notice!” Penelope grabbed a decorative throw pillow from the sofa and hurled it straight at my head. I ducked smoothly to the side. The pillow flew past me, crashing right into the trophy sitting on the Headmaster’s desk. The Headmaster’s eyelid twitched frantically. Serena finally spoke. “Cora.” I snapped to attention. She said coldly, “Get your ass back to class.” I obediently scrammed. Stepping out into the hallway, I checked my phone. The school forum was completely ablaze. Someone had uploaded a video of me applauding in my wine-stained gown. The title was exceptionally eye-catching: The Long-Lost Heiress’s Mental State Is 30 Years Ahead of the Entire Campus. The comment section was refreshing at lightspeed. Is she genuinely insane? Penelope finally ran headfirst into a brick wall this time. Wait… why does her explanation actually make sense? Say what you want, but Mr. Adler’s eyes were practically glowing! I scrolled through the thread in high spirits. Elite prep schools were marvelous. The campus was practically overflowing with passionate, creative minds. As I rounded the corner of the corridor, several girls stepped out to block my path. Leading them was Penelope’s main henchwoman, Sienna. She crossed her arms, letting out a cold sneer. “Cora Montgomery, do you seriously think you’ve won?” I answered solemnly, “I wouldn’t dare.” Sienna lifted her chin in satisfaction. A second later, I added, “Art knows no winners or losers.” The smirk vanished from her face. I stepped around her. She grit her teeth, venom lacing her voice. “You’d better stay far away from the old building after classes end today.” I paused, my eyes sparkling brightly. Sienna flinched back half a step under my intense gaze. I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Wait… we can create art in the old building too?” 3 It turned out that the old building was indeed a phenomenal venue for artistic creation. Right after the final bell rang, as I reached the edge of the sports field, two girls dragged me into the abandoned academic wing. Their movements were practiced and their route was discreet. You could tell right away they were seasoned artists. Ultimately, they shoved me into a deserted, decommissioned restroom. The door was locked from the outside with a heavy iron latch. Sienna’s laughter echoed through the wood. “Cora, you sure love to run your mouth, don’t you? Why don’t you stay in there and talk to yourself all night?” Chortles of laughter sounded from her squad. Someone turned on their phone to record. “Beg us! Say please!” I stood in the center of the dark restroom and surveyed my surroundings. Peeling wall paint. A heavily rusted faucet. Windows reinforced with thick iron bars. And a broken mop lying pathetic on the tile floor. Magnificent. Rich materials. Raw emotion. A closed-loop spatial structure. I pulled out my phone to check my cell signal. Two bars. More than enough. I tapped into a live-streaming app and typed out the title: Locked in a Restroom for 30 Minutes: Witnessing Structural Violence at an Elite Academy. In the first minute, only three viewers joined. By the fifth minute, over a hundred people had flooded in. By the tenth minute, the school’s online forum blew up completely. I angled the phone camera directly at the rusted iron lock. “Dear audience, does this lock merely seal a wooden door?” Comments flashed across the screen at lightning speed. Wait, does it mean something else?! Is she doing another lecture?! I paused for dramatic effect. “On the surface, it locks a door. But in reality, it seals away a new student’s fragile trust in campus safety.” The live chat went dead silent for a second. Then, a avalanche of comments erupted. Oh god, she’s starting again! Why am I actually listening to this?! Are the old building bathrooms really that dilapidated? I swept the camera toward the sink. “Look at this faucet. It has been rusting for years, yet it persists in remaining right here. It represents the neglected, forgotten corners of elite education!” The laughter outside evaporated into thin air. Sienna began pounding frantically on the door. “Cora! What the hell are you doing in there?!” I pointed the camera toward the shaking wood, introducing her warmly to the stream. “The person outside is the co-curator of this live installation. Notice how she uses rhythmic percussion to reinforce the second layer of spatial oppression.” The chat blew up instantly. CO-CURATOR LMAO! The bullies outside are about to have a total nervous breakdown! Wait, did they actually lock her inside an abandoned bathroom?! I offered a gentle reminder to the viewers. “Please don’t misunderstand them, everyone. They simply possess an overwhelming desire for artistic expression.” Chaos erupted outside the door. Someone cursed in a panicked whisper, “Turn off the stream! Make her turn it off right now!” I set my phone securely on the edge of the sink, climbed up onto the porcelain counter, and declared with deep solemnity, “Our exhibition is now reaching its grand climax! When the victim begins to dictate the narrative, the oppressors involuntarily become part of the exhibit itself!” It went completely silent outside the door. Five minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway. The Headmaster, Mr. Adler, security guards, and the entire student council came rushing over. The Headmaster was wiping sweat from his forehead as he bellowed, “Break the lock! Open it now!” When the security guard snapped the iron latch with bolt cutters and pushed the door open, the camera caught the sickly pale faces of the girls standing outside in stunning high definition. Sienna turned around, trying to cover her face and run. I leaped down from the sink and introduced them with radiant enthusiasm. “Look, everyone! These individuals are the master architects behind this enclosed spatial experience!” Sienna shrieked, “Shut your mouth!” I nodded approvingly. “Her emotional delivery is remarkably full-bodied.” Mr. Adler squeezed through the crowd. He looked at the bathroom, looked at the live stream on my phone, and then looked at me. His eyes were twinkling with unbridled awe. “This piece… it is infinitely more mature than the wine dress!” he gasped. The Headmaster almost fainted on the spot. “Mr. Adler!” Mr. Adler reined himself in immediately, though the way he stared at the broken bathroom door held a level of profound appreciation that certainly didn’t belong in a administrative crisis. I picked up my phone. The live view count had surpassed one hundred thousand. Penelope was standing near the back of the crowd, her expression utterly grim. I waved at her with a bright, cheerful smile. “Penelope! The second exhibition is a resounding success!” Her lips turned white. “This… this has nothing to do with me!” I offered her a look of deep understanding. “Great art always endures authorship disputes.” Penelope’s vision went dark for a brief second. That very evening, Crestview Academy issued an official public statement: The old building restrooms present safety hazards and will undergo immediate structural renovation. Simultaneously, to honor this vital campus safety dialogue, the first floor of the building will be transformed into a student public art space. Reading the announcement, I nodded in satisfaction. Just as I was getting ready to sleep, Serena pushed my bedroom door open. She tossed a tablet onto my bed, displaying the replay of my live stream. She asked coldly, “Cora, what on earth are you doing at that school?” I pointed at the view count. “Sister, I brought honor to our family line.” 4 Serena stared at the view count, remaining silent for ten full seconds. Finally, she shut the tablet off. “Starting tomorrow, a personal chauffeur will drive you to and from school.” I gasped in shock. “Sister, are you trying to protect me?” She cast a freezing look at me. “I’m afraid you’ll blow up the campus.” I let out a sigh of relief. Good, she was still the familiar, cold sister I knew. The next morning, the moment I stepped into my classroom, every single head snapped in my direction. Class 17, where I had been assigned, was the notorious dumping ground of Crestview Academy. It housed slacker heirs abandoned by their families, low-ranking rich kids, and weirdos kicked out of the advanced placement tracks. I walked to the very back row and took a seat. Slumped on the desk beside mine was a boy wearing thick black-rimmed glasses. His desk was piled high with scratch paper covered in dense, intricate mathematical formulas. The moment I set my backpack down, he snapped his head up. “Could you try breathing a little quieter?” I clamped my mouth shut instantly. Three seconds later, he added, “Your respiratory rhythm has unnatural fluctuations.” I held my breath completely. He nodded in satisfaction and went back to his calculations. A guy in the front row burst out laughing. “Gideon is having another episode! He’s the guy who had a total meltdown last month just because the math teacher wrote a chalk symbol half a centimeter crooked!” The pen in Gideon’s hand came to a sudden halt. I glanced at him. This classmate possessed extraordinary artistic potential as well. During the second period, Penelope marched over accompanied by the Dean of Discipline. She stood at the classroom doorway, her eyes rimmed red. “Dean, my diamond necklace is missing.” The classroom fell instantly silent. The Dean frowned. “Are you sure you lost it around here?” Penelope bit her lower lip, her gaze landing squarely on me. “I’ve only been near Class 17 today.” Every eye in the room shifted toward me. Sienna chimed in immediately, “Cora, do you dare let the Dean search your backpack?!” I nodded. “I dare.” They clearly hadn’t expected me to be so cooperative. The Dean walked over, his expression grim. “Miss Montgomery, please cooperate with the inspection.” I pushed my backpack straight onto the podium. A flash of smug triumph gleamed in Penelope’s eyes. A second later, my bag was unzipped and turned upside down. Textbooks, a pencil case, half a bag of potato chips, two beef sticks, and a dazzling diamond necklace tumbled out onto the desk. The entire class gasped. Penelope covered her mouth, feigning horror. “Cora, it really was you!” I stared at that shimmering diamond necklace, my eyes slowly igniting with awe. Penelope suddenly felt an ominous chill run down her spine. I bent down and scooped the necklace up with both hands, holding it reverently. “Magnificent! Simply magnificent!” The Dean knit his brows. “Cora Montgomery, stop fooling around!” I turned around to face the entire class. “Classmates, please remember this precise moment! The significance of this necklace has officially transcended the value of fine jewelry itself!” The corner of Penelope’s mouth twitched violently. I continued passionately, “It was planted inside the bag of a newly reclaimed heiress! It carries the weight of immense wealth, prejudice, societal surveillance, and above all, the price of innocence!” Gideon finally raised his head from his desk. He stared at the necklace for two seconds, then stated plainly, “The logic holds up.” The entire class went: “??” I looked at him, deeply moved. “Thank you for the critical endorsement, Gideon!” Penelope lost her temper. “You stole my property!” I nodded eagerly. “Then call the police immediately!” She froze. I handed the necklace straight to the Dean. “Dean, please call the police right now. And while you’re at it, review the hallway CCTV footage to see who placed this magnificent artwork into my bag.” All color drained from Penelope’s face. The Dean realized something was terribly wrong. He turned to look at Penelope. “Miss Penelope, are you absolutely certain you want to file a police report?” Penelope’s lips quivered. “I… I was just making a joke…” I burst into enthusiastic applause instantly. “Bravo! So this piece contains elements of absurd dark comedy as well!” The classroom erupted into roaring laughter. Penelope covered her face and ran out of the room in shame. The Dean stood there holding the necklace, looking utterly trapped in an awkward nightmare. I returned to my desk, contentedly unwrapping one of my beef sticks. Suddenly, Gideon pushed a piece of scratch paper onto my desk. Written on it was a single line: The Price of Innocence: A Logical Flowchart. I was instantly filled with profound respect. Class 17 truly was a den of hidden dragons and crouching tigers.

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1 I earned a six-figure salary working as an undercover handler for the city’s top elite heir, specifically hired to use love to tame his wild, rebellious younger brother. I ran this gig for three years with zero negative reviews. Until today, at the drag strip, when he pushed me aside for a girl in a white cotton dress. My heart sank. Not out of heartbreak, but out of pure agony for my about-to-be-lost double salary. I immediately turned around and emailed his older brother my resignation letter. Three minutes later, the elite heir himself locked down the entire mountain racing pass. … The night wind along the mountain pass blew hard, making my eyes sting. Taking advantage of the moment, I squeezed out two precise tears and gripped the edge of Zach’s racing suit. “Zach, don’t go,” I whimpered, pitching my voice to a perfectly delicate tremolo. “This mountain pass is way too dangerous, I’m really scared…” I knew this routine like the back of my hand. For three years, whenever my eyes turned red, this stubborn mule of a guy would soften up instantly. He would curse under his breath, toss his car keys aside, shove me into the passenger seat, and drive me home like a good boy to drink warm milk. But tonight, something was off. Zach didn’t wrap his arm around me like he usually did. Instead, his brow furrowed, his eyes skipping right over my shoulder toward the far side of the bleachers. I followed his line of sight and took a quick peek. Holy crap, I cursed in my head. Standing in the corner of the bleachers was a girl wearing a faded white cotton dress. She wore no makeup at all, looking like a delicate white lotus swaying in the wind among a sea of heavily painted party girls. What was most fatal was her expression: three parts stubbornness, three parts defiance, and four parts absolute martyr-like stoicism. We were doomed. Alarm bells blared in my mind. This girl had just flipped the young master’s “true love” switch. “Sienna, be a good girl,” Zach said, pulling my fingers away one by one. His motion wasn’t harsh, but it was absolute. He casually put a cigarette between his lips, leaning down close with a wicked smirk. “Don’t worry, your man’s driving skills are top-tier. I’m taking the prize in tonight’s race no matter what.” I glanced in the direction he pointed. The so-called prize was that girl in the white dress. Word on the street was that her brother owed loan sharks a fortune, and she had been dragged to the drag strip as a betting chip. Whoever won the race got to take her home. What a cliché storyline. What a dramatic trope. If this were any other day, I would have bought a bag of sunflower seeds and crouched by the curb to enjoy the show. But right now, I couldn’t bring myself to smile. Because this meant my personal cash cow was about to break out of the pasture. Zach threw on his helmet and slid into his flashy red sports car without looking back. The engine let out a deafening, throaty roar. The surrounding trust-fund bros began to cheer wildly. “Zach’s the man!” “Risking it all for a pretty face!” “Hey Sienna, looks like your official girlfriend status is expired! Can’t even keep your man on a leash!” A few socialite girls who had always disliked me sidled up to throw mocking jabs. I kept my head low, my shoulders trembling in rhythm. To them, I looked like a heartbroken girl weeping in despair. In reality, I was fighting with everything I had to hold back a burst of laughter while frantically clicking an imaginary abacus in my head. My name is Sienna. I am a professional hired companion. To be precise, I was a high-priced “wild animal trainer” employed by the eldest heir of the Sinclair family, Xavier Sinclair. Zach was the wild animal I was assigned to manage. Three years ago, Zach was a chaotic nightmare who spent his days getting into street fights, drag racing, and hitting nightclubs. Old Mr. Sinclair was so enraged he nearly suffered a heart attack. When Xavier took over the family conglomerate, his very first order of business was to clean up family discipline. However, running a multi-billion-dollar empire left him zero time to babysit his rebellious younger brother. So, he found me. “I will pay you fifty thousand dollars a month,” Xavier had said, sitting behind his leather executive desk, handing me a contract with an icy expression. “Your task is to make him fall in love with you, then use his love-addled brain to keep him in line. No drag racing, no brawling, no negative press headlines. As long as he smoothly finishes his college degree and enters the company as an intern, I will pay you a five-million-dollar completion bonus in one lump sum.” I looked at that long string of zeros and signed my name on the spot. Are you kidding me? A base salary of fifty thousand a month! And that wasn’t even counting the pocket money, designer bags, and jewelry Zach bought me on the side. Drawing two paychecks for one job was the absolute pinnacle of corporate grinding. For three years, I performed my duties with absolute dedication. I played the sweet, fragile, helpless working-class college girl to perfection, completely captivating Zach. For my sake, he quit smoking and drinking. He even dyed his bleached yellow hair back to natural black. Every single day, he picked me up from class right on time and spent his weekends sitting quietly with me in the university library. The entire elite social scene gossiped about how the wild second prince of the Sinclair family had been completely tamed by a commoner girl. Xavier was immensely satisfied with my job performance, even handing me annual bonuses twice. With just six months left until Zach’s college graduation, that five-million-dollar final bonus was practically waving at me. And then tonight, out of nowhere, Zach had a sudden brain short-circuit and insisted on coming to the mountain pass with his bad influences, running straight into Isla, the delicate white lotus. The red sports car shot out like an arrow off a bowstring, its taillights cutting a streak of crimson through the dark night. I let out a soft sigh, dropping the tearful act. Reaching into my Hermès bag, I pulled out my secondary phone, opened the messaging app, and located the solid black profile picture. Boss, we have an emergency, I typed rapidly. Target Number Two has encountered an uncontrollable emotional variable. In layman’s terms, his affection has shifted. My tear strategy is no longer effective. To avoid the embarrassment of getting kicked out, I am requesting to terminate my contract early. My formal resignation has been sent to your email. How will this month’s salary and my severance package be calculated? After sending the message, I let out a long breath of relief. A professional knows when to hold on and when to let go. Although losing that five-million-dollar final bonus stung a little, I had saved up a massive fortune over the past three years. It was more than enough for me to buy a luxury villa back in my hometown and live a comfortable life hiring a few handsome young personal assistants. My phone vibrated almost instantly. Xavier replied in seconds with just two icy words: Location. I blinked, quickly dropping the live pin of the drag strip into the chat. No further response came from his end. Leaning against the bleacher railing, I blew idly into the cold night wind, mentally rehearsing how to wrap up the scene later. Zach was guaranteed to win the race. He was, after all, a semi-professional champion driver. When he returned victorious with his new girl, what posture should I adopt? Should I hysterically demand why he betrayed me? Or should I put on a brave face, wish him happiness, and walk away into the dark? Which approach would squeeze a larger breakup payout out of him? While I was deliberating, the roar of an engine echoed from the far end of the mountain road. The red sports car crossed the finish line first, pulling off a gorgeous drift before coming to a firm halt in the center of the crowd. Zach pushed the door open and stepped out. Tossing his helmet aside, he casually ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. That arrogant, wild demeanor was admittedly quite attractive to younger girls. The crowd erupted into wild cheers. The trust-fund bros who had set up the bet walked forward with sour expressions. “Zach, you won,” the leader said through grit teeth. Zach let out a cold smirk, walking straight past them to the corner of the bleachers, grabbing Isla’s wrist in a firm grip. “She’s coming with me,” he declared. “Her brother’s debt is completely wiped clean.” Isla struggled against his grip without success. Raising her head, her eyes rimmed red, she glared at him. “I don’t need your pity! I’ll pay off my brother’s debt myself!” Wow, look at those lines, I thought. Absolute perfection. Zach was clearly eating up every bit of it. The smirk on his face deepened. “Pay it back yourself? With what? From today on, you belong to me. Be good, listen to me, and don’t make me angry.” I watched from the side with immense entertainment, practically wanting to play background music for their romantic drama. That was until Zach dragged Isla straight over to stand in front of me. The surrounding air went instantly dead quiet. Everyone stared at me with expectant, drama-hungry eyes. I quickly pinched my own thigh hard, forcing two fresh tears to well up in my eyes. “Zach…” I raised my head, my voice trembling and my eyes filled with shattered grief. “Who is she?” Zach looked at me, a brief flash of guilt flickering across his eyes before being replaced by cold detachment. “Sienna, let’s break up,” he said, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. “I’ve treated you well over the last three years. Everything you wanted, I bought for you. You should be satisfied. I only just realized that what I felt for you before wasn’t love at all. I just appreciated that you were obedient and sensible.” He squeezed Isla’s hand tightly. “It wasn’t until I met her that I truly understood what real heart-fluttering passion feels like.” I had to suppress a massive urge to roll my eyes. Dude, you literally just met her for the first time tonight! What in the world is ‘real passion’?! You’re just attracted to a pretty face, stop acting like a tragic romantic hero! Still, on the surface, I had to finish my performance. I stumbled back two steps, my face turning deathly pale as if I were about to collapse. “I don’t believe you…” I bit my lip hard, tears rolling down my cheeks in heavy droplets. “You said you would marry me! You said we’d get married right after graduation!” Zach knit his brows, growing visibly impatient. “Sienna, stop making a scene. Let’s part on good terms. Tomorrow I’ll have my assistant wire two million dollars to your account, and you can keep the downtown condo. Don’t come looking for me anymore.” Two million dollars in cash plus a prime downtown luxury condo! My heart bloomed with pure joy. What an absolute win! Severance pay from the boss plus a breakup payout from the younger brother—I was stepping directly into financial freedom! Just as I was preparing to take the graceful exit, pretend to weep uncontrollably, and make my grand departure, a massive deafening roar sounded from directly above our heads. Gales of wind whipped up dust and gravel from the asphalt, blinding everyone on the ground. Everyone looked up in sheer terror. Three sleek black helicopters hovered directly above the racing strip. Blinding searchlights cut through the dark like sharp blades, illuminating the entire venue as bright as midday. Immediately after, a convoy of over a dozen black Maybachs roared up from both ends of the mountain pass, their sharp screeching brakes echoing in unison to completely seal off every exit. The crowd erupted into chaotic panic. “What on earth is happening?!” “Is it a police raid?!” “Raid my ass! Look at those license plates!” Zach’s expression shifted drastically as well. Subconsciously shielding Isla behind his back, he stared fixedly at the lead Maybach. The car door opened. Dozens of bodyguards dressed in sharp black suits and wearing earpieces filed out in swift precision, forming two disciplined lines. A tall man wearing a custom black trench coat stepped out of the vehicle. His figure was lean and commanding, his features carved with cold perfection. An aura of absolute, long-standing authority radiated from his very presence. Just standing there, he caused the surrounding temperature to drop to freezing point. Xavier Sinclair. My cold, ruthless, capitalist employer. Why on earth had he come here in person? I stood frozen in place, completely forgetting my fake crying routine. Xavier took long, deliberate strides, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the asphalt. Without sparing a single glance at the trembling trust-fund heirs around us, he walked straight toward our group. Zach swallowed hard, his voice tight. “Brother… why are you here?” He assumed Xavier had come to drag him back home. The Sinclair family discipline was notoriously brutal, and if the old patriarch found out he was drag racing at night over a woman, his legs would be broken. Zach grit his teeth, puffing out his chest defiantly. “Brother, I take full responsibility for my own actions! I set up tonight’s race! It has nothing to do with Isla! Whatever you want to do, direct it at me, don’t touch her!” His heroic, protective stance really carried the dramatic aura of a romance male lead. Behind him, Isla stared at Xavier with eyes filled with deep hostility and suspicion. 2 She looked as though she were staring at an evil villain trying to tear true lovers apart. Xavier halted his footsteps. His gaze swept indifferently over Zach, then flicked past Isla. That look was identical to staring at two irrelevant ants. He didn’t even bother uttering a single word to Zach. Stepping right past them, he walked directly up to me. My heart tightened violently. Oh crap. Was the boss here to personally execute my account? Did he think I had failed to manage his brother properly and come to demand liquidated damages? My brain frantically calculated excuses. “Boss, let me explain…” I lowered my voice to a whisper meant strictly for his ears. “This really isn’t my fault. It’s an uncontrollable force of nature. About that two-million-dollar severance…” Xavier looked down at me from his superior height, his dark eyes swirling with a depth I couldn’t decipher. Suddenly, he raised his hand. I flinched back, instinctively shrinking my neck thinking he was going to strike me. Instead, his hand landed gently on the top of my head, softly smoothing down my wind-ruffled hair. “I didn’t approve your resignation,” Xavier said, his voice deep and raspy, carrying a barely perceptible trace of a chuckle. “Since Target Number Two has failed…” He leaned down, his breath brushing against my ear as he whispered in an intensely seductive tone, “…we launch Project Number One.” I froze, staring at him in complete bewilderment. “What is Project Number One?” Xavier unbuttoned his trench coat with slow precision, draping it over my shoulders. It carried his faint, crisp scent of cedar. Leaning closer until his lips nearly brushed mine, he murmured, “Me. Double your monthly salary, ten-million-dollar completion bonus. Sienna, now it’s your turn to manage me.”

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