My husband Jim clung to life in the ICU after a plane crash. I refused to sit by his bedside, and I flatly declined to sign his emergency surgery forms. “Dad is dying! How can you just sit there eating?!” My ten-year-old daughter Annie slammed her hand down, knocking my rice bowl off the counter. I only offered a faint smile. “Food is fuel. If I don’t eat, how will I have the energy to bury your father?” Clutching a glass jar of origami stars, her eyes swollen, she screamed, “Shut up! Everyone knows how much Jim loves you!” Sobbing, she pulled out the stars, reading the tiny notes inside. “Elena rarely smiles, but when she does, it ruins me.” She read over a dozen, but when my face stayed blank, she broke. “Is money all you care about?! If Dad dies, you get the whole company!” I looked at her, my heart still. “Annie, I’ve never kept my hair long because it gets in the way of work.” She froze. “What?” “And I am not the only Elena in his life.” 1 “Look at my hands, Annie. They are meant for digging dirt, planting vegetables, and feeding livestock. Long hair would only get in my way.” In the mirror, my short hair looked sharp and practical. My skin, weathered from years of working under the sun on a rural farm, was dry and rough. I reached out and took her small hand, letting her feel the thick, scratchy calluses on my palm. “As for that glass jar…” I glanced at the colorful paper stars scattered on the table. “Those love letters weren’t written for me. They were written for Vivian.” Annie yanked her hand back instantly, as if my skin had burned her. She couldn’t comprehend it. To her, I was Mrs. Gifford, the woman Jim had officially married, and her biological mother. Vivian was just the beautiful lady in our family photo albums, the one her father always referred to as his sweet little sister. “Because Vivian’s birth name was also Elena.” “She was the real princess of the family, the one who was supposed to be pampered and loved.” And I, Elena, was nothing more than the abandoned biological daughter, brought back from the countryside to fill the void after the adopted princess left. I was just a duty, a substitute Jim despised with every fiber of his being. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was the hospital. “Mrs. Gifford, your husband’s condition has taken a turn for the worse. He needs an emergency craniotomy to relieve the pressure on his brain. The risks are incredibly high. We need you here immediately to sign the critical consent forms.” As a prominent figure in the business world, Jim’s accident had drawn massive media attention. Reporters were already swarming the hospital gates. As his wife, I had to show up. I had to play the part of the devastated, fiercely loyal spouse. Annie clutched the hem of my shirt, her small face covered in tears. “Mom, please, we have to go! Dad needs you!” Her entire world was crumbling, and her eyes were filled with a terrifying vulnerability. I gently patted her head. “Alright. Let’s go.” When we arrived at the hospital, the camera flashes were blinding. I let my eyes redden on cue, walking with a slight, calculated stumble, leaning heavily on my assistant’s arm. I gave them the perfect performance of a fragile woman on the verge of collapse. The board members of Gifford Enterprises treated me with immense respect. “Ma’am, please stay strong. Mr. Gifford is a resilient man. He will pull through this.” I nodded quietly, keeping my head low to hide the absolute lack of emotion in my eyes. Through the heavy glass of the ICU window, I saw Jim. He was hooked up to countless machines, his once handsome, arrogant face completely devoid of color. I should have felt a sense of vindication. I should have hated him. Yet, looking at his broken body, a strange, suffocating weight settled in my chest. Ten years. Marrying him had felt like serving a ten year prison sentence. I thought my heart had turned to stone a long time ago, but there was still a lingering ache. Jim’s personal secretary, Mr. Carter, walked over and spoke in a hushed tone. “Mrs. Gifford, your husband flew out of the country to secure a crucial business partnership. No one could have predicted this tragedy.” My lips curved into a cold, private smile. A partnership? I knew exactly why he had boarded that private jet. It was Vivian’s birthday. For the past ten years, no matter how busy he was, he always flew across the ocean on this exact day to celebrate with her. Nothing could ever stop him. Only this time, the universe decided to intervene. A nurse rushed out of the operating room, looking panicked. “The patient’s heart rate is dropping rapidly! We must perform the craniotomy immediately to clear the blood clot! We need a family member to sign these papers right now!” Every eye in the corridor turned to me. I held a handkerchief to my face, pretending to sob, but I didn’t take a single step forward. Annie grabbed my hand, weeping. “Mom, please! Save Dad! Just sign the paper!” I looked at the bold letters on the form, specifically the line that read Authorized Family Signature. Images of the humilating nights I had endured flashed through my mind. The times he came home reeking of alcohol, pinning me down while whispering Vivian’s name over and over again. The way he kept Vivian’s portrait proudly displayed on his desk, while our wedding album was locked away in the darkest corner of his drawer. The times he threw entire plates of food against the wall because my cooking didn’t suit his taste, while he happily spent hours in the kitchen preparing elaborate meals for Vivian. I slowly raised my head, meeting the desperate, urging gazes of everyone in the room, and quietly shook my head. “I can’t sign this.” 2 A suffocating silence descended upon the hallway. Sarah, a senior executive who had harbored a crush on Jim for years, was the first to react. She stared at me, her voice shrill and trembling. “Elena! Have you lost your mind?!” “That is your husband! Are you really going to stand there and watch him die?!” Annie’s crying escalated into screams. She began hitting my knees with her tiny fists. “You’re a horrible mother! I hate you! Why won’t you save my dad?!” I let her strike me, keeping my gaze steady as I looked at every person standing in that corridor. I spoke slowly, making sure every syllable was crystal clear. “We are divorced.” “Legally, I am no longer his spouse. I have no right to sign those papers.” The revelation hit the crowd like a physical blow. Yes, we were divorced. We had quietly finalized the paperwork and received our dissolution certificates the day before he left for Vivian’s birthday trip. Our ten years of marital misery had officially ended. No one else knew. We had kept it entirely between us. Looking at Jim through the glass, a sudden, dark sense of relief washed over me. I pulled a physically exhausted Annie toward the benches at the end of the hall, forcing her to sit. She ripped her hand away from mine, staring at me as if I were a monster. “Mom, why did you divorce him?” “Did you… did you ever even love him?” Looking into her innocent, devastated eyes, my heart twinged with guilt. How could I explain it to her? Her birth had been a complete accident. Her father had never wanted her to exist. And her mother had spent a decade having her dignity ground into dust. My memory drifted back to ten years ago. I was twenty four when the wealthy Gifford family dragged me out of that impoverished mountain village. They claimed I was their long lost biological daughter. And Vivian, the girl they had pampered for over two decades, was actually the child who had been switched at birth. I foolishly believed my life was finally beginning. I had no idea I was simply stepping into a different kind of cage. Vivian threw tantrums, cried, and screamed, but her parents ultimately sent her abroad with a massive trust fund as compensation. She graciously relinquished her title as the eldest daughter of the family. Everyone praised her for being mature and understanding. Meanwhile, I stood in their opulent mansion, wearing cheap, ill-fitting clothes and carrying the scent of soil and hard labor. I was a laughingstock. My biological parents felt guilty, but their interactions with me were stiff and awkward. They didn’t know how to talk to me, so they simply threw money at me to clear their consciences. And Jim, who had been betrothed to the daughter of the family since childhood, suddenly found his fiancée switched from Vivian to me. I fell in love with him the moment I saw him. But he despised me. He believed I had robbed Vivian of her rightful life. On our wedding night, Jim drank until he could barely stand, throwing me onto the bed. There was no warmth, no gentle touch, only a brutal assertion of ownership. He ripped my clothes apart, destroying any lingering hope I had for our marriage. The heavy smell of whiskey mixed with his expensive cologne made my stomach turn. And right before he drifted into a drunken sleep, I heard him whisper that name. “Vivian…” In that moment, whatever love I had for him died. From then on, I was nothing but a ghost in his grand estate. He rarely came home, and when he did, it was only to satisfy his physical urges. He never took me to social events; my existence as his wife was confined to legal documents. He knew every single detail of Vivian’s preferences, but he couldn’t name my favorite meal if his life depended on it. On my birthday one year, I gathered my courage and spent hours cooking a elaborate feast, trying my best to follow his favorite recipes. When he returned, he only gave the table a cold, disdainful look. “I don’t eat spicy food.” With that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him. I sat alone before the beautiful dishes, tears streaming down my face. I had forgotten that Vivian was raised in high society, accustomed to mild, delicate flavors. I, however, had spent eighteen years in a rural town where every meal was seasoned with heavy spices. My pregnancy was another accident. 3 He had come home late that night, carrying the distinct scent of a woman’s expensive perfume. I don’t know who he pictured in his mind when he pulled me close. I only knew that he was unusually gentle, sharing a warmth that belonged to someone else. The next day, I found a ticket to Paris in his coat pocket, alongside draft messages wishing Vivian a happy birthday. I realized his tenderness was merely the lingering warmth of his affection for another woman. When I handed him the positive pregnancy test, his face didn’t register joy. Only disgust. “Get rid of it.” He spoke those words with a terrifying coldness, as if he were discussing discarding a piece of trash. “Why?” I asked, clutching the paper until my knuckles turned white. “Don’t forget your place, Elena.” He grabbed my jaw, his grip so tight I felt the bone groan under the pressure. “You think you deserve to carry my child? You’re not worthy.” That was the first time I stood my ground against him. I kept Annie. In return, he moved his things to the guest room, and we began living completely separate lives. He grew more vicious. He would openly bring different women to the house, flaunting them in front of me. He insulted my background and my manners at the dinner table. He was trying to force me to file for divorce. But I couldn’t leave. My foster parents back in the village were chronically ill, and they relied entirely on the money I sent them. And Jim gave me plenty of money, even if it came with endless humiliation. I was like a weed trapped in a gilded pot, looking green on the outside but rotting at the roots. Without his money, I had nothing. So, I endured. I swallowed the humiliation, the tears, and the anger. Until a month ago, when a routine checkup revealed I had a serious heart condition that required an incredibly expensive surgery. I finally asked him for the funds. He only looked at me with deep amusement. “Another game, Elena? You want that much cash? Fine. Sign the divorce papers.” He thought that would be the final blow to my spirit. He thought I would beg him, that I couldn’t survive without his shadow. He had no idea how long I had been waiting for those words. “Deal,” I said, without a second of hesitation. We signed the agreement. I walked away from the marriage with nothing but a massive lump-sum settlement. It was more than enough to fund my surgery and secure a comfortable future for my daughter and me. Jim actually smiled when the ink dried on the papers. He was finally free to go to his white swan. Remembering those years still brought a dull ache to my chest. “Mom!” Annie’s voice pulled me back from the past. She was kneeling on the cold floor, wrapping her arms around my legs. “Please, Mom! Save him! I don’t want to lose my dad!” I looked down at her, a sharp pain squeezing my heart. “Annie, your father never wanted you. I have sole custody of you now.” She stared at me, her mind unable to process the words. “Doctor,” I said, turning to the bewildered physician. “Legally, I have no relation to this man. His survival is out of my hands.” 4 Just as I was about to pull Annie away from the crowd, the elevator doors opened. A woman dressed in a tailored Chanel suit, her makeup flawless and her heels clicking loudly against the tile, marched into the corridor. It was Vivian. She had rushed back. Her eyes locked onto me instantly. “Elena, you pathetic peasant! Jim is lying in there dying, and you’re still playing your pathetic, stubborn games?” She walked straight past me, snatching the consent forms out of the doctor’s hands. “If she won’t sign, I will!” She carried herself as if she were already the matriarch of the household. The whispers around us grew louder, the onlookers eager to witness the unfolding drama of high society. I watched her silent performance with cold detachment. But Annie, like a threatened cub, leaped forward to block her. “Don’t you dare yell at my mom! You’re a bad woman! Dad belongs to Mom!” Vivian looked down at the child, who bore a striking resemblance to Jim, a flash of pure malice crossing her eyes. “Move, you little mistake!” She raised her hand to push Annie aside. I stepped in instantly, grabbing Vivian’s wrist mid-air. “Don’t you ever touch my daughter,” I warned, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. Over the years, I had tolerated their insults for the sake of my family. But my daughter was the one boundary they could never cross. Vivian tore her wrist from my grip, letting out a sharp laugh. “Your daughter? Elena, let’s be real. If I hadn’t chosen to leave the country back then, Jim would never have laid a finger on someone like you.” “Every single time he touched you, he was picturing my face!” The words were designed to cut deep, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, a quiet laugh escaped my lips. “Is that so? Then why are you standing out here while he’s fighting for his life? Go on, go inside.” “Oh, I forgot. The hospital only accepts signatures from immediate family.” “Unfortunately, I’m no longer his wife. And you, Vivian… what exactly are you to him?” Vivian’s face turned a violent shade of red. “The patient’s intracranial pressure is rising! We need to operate now!” the doctor yelled, his patience entirely gone. “The risks of permanent paralysis, a vegetative state, or death are extremely high! Someone needs to sign this form!” No one stepped forward. If Jim died on the operating table, whoever signed that paper would be held responsible by the board and the public. The executives quietly shuffled backward, avoiding the doctor’s gaze. Just then, Mr. Carter ran down the hall, followed by two city registry officials. “Mr. Gifford has no other living relatives… Mrs. Gifford, would you consider an immediate remarriage to save his life?” I took a step back, shaking my head. “No.” Carter turned toward Vivian. “Miss Lin, you can choose to marry Mr. Gifford right now.” Vivian hesitated, her confidence suddenly faltering. “I…” “Please decide quickly,” Carter added. “Mr. Gifford drafted a will last month…”

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1 I was born with a crying reflex I cannot control. The moment someone raises their voice, even slightly, my tears start falling before my brain can even process why. It isn’t out of self-pity, and I’m not trying to play the victim. My tear ducts simply have a mind of their own. Before I turned eighteen, my family kept me wrapped in a protective bubble. My parents and my older brother, Nathan, always told me: “Crying is never a mistake, Sienna. The only mistake is when people use your tears for their own amusement.” But when it was time for college, I insisted on living in a standard four-person dorm. I wanted to prove I could survive on my own. My roommate, Chelsea, was a rising lifestyle influencer. On our very first night, she accidentally knocked my water glass off my desk. Before I could even open my mouth to say it was fine, a fat tear rolled down my cheek. Chelsea froze, staring at me for a few seconds. It was as if she had just discovered a cheat code for viral content. From that day on, she made a game of catching me off guard. She filmed me when she startled me, recording my tears. She filmed me when she accidentally locked me out on the balcony, and she filmed me when our other roommates crowded around, asking if I was just faking it for attention, while I sobbed too hard to breathe. Using those clips, her follower count exploded by over a hundred thousand, and she even applied for the university’s prestigious Digital Creator Scholarship. On the day of the awards ceremony, my tear-stained, trembling face was projected onto the massive auditorium screen. Chelsea stood on stage, smiling warmly into the microphone. “I believe in capturing raw reality. I’m just trying to help my roommate grow.” The next moment, the guest presenter walked onto the stage. “You used my sister’s pain to apply for the scholarship I funded?” The polite applause in the auditorium died instantly. The smile on Chelsea’s face froze, but she was quick on her feet. After a brief second of panic, her eyes welled with tears. “Mr. Brooks, there must be a misunderstanding,” she said, clutching her certificate as her voice trembled. “Sienna and I are roommates. We’re actually very close.” “She’s new to campus and was having a hard time adjusting to dorm life. I was only trying to help her break out of her shell.” She turned her head to look down at me in the audience. That single, heavy look made my fingers tighten around my skirt. I knew exactly what she was silently demanding. Our academic advisor, Ms. Gable, rushed onto the stage to smooth things over. “Mr. Brooks, I believe this is indeed a minor misunderstanding,” she said, her smile tight but her tone deliberately soothing. “Chelsea is an excellent student, and her social media reach has been wonderful for our school’s public image.” “The engagement on her videos was highly successful, though her methods might have been a bit unconventional. But college is a transition, and Sienna is away from home for the first time. It takes some students longer to adjust.” Before I left for college, my father had asked me repeatedly if I wanted them to purchase an apartment near campus. My mother had agreed, saying there was no need for me to live in a crowded dorm. But I had refused. I didn’t want to spend my entire life hiding behind my family’s wealth. Even with my involuntary crying reflex, I wanted to prove I could stand on my own two feet. Yet, only a month into the semester, I had made a complete mess of things. The entire student body knew me as the girl who couldn’t stop crying. Online, strangers called me dramatic, pathetic, and a spoiled rich girl. If Nathan pushed this matter further today, tomorrow the rumors would only claim that Sienna Brooks couldn’t survive a single day without her family fighting her battles. I didn’t want that. When I stood up from the back row, my knees were shaking. With every eye in the auditorium locked onto me, my tears began to flow automatically. “The videos… I knew about them,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. My brother’s brow furrowed, his eyes filling with immediate, protective concern. I couldn’t bear to look at him, so I kept my head down, staring at the tips of my shoes. “I am new here, and I’ve been having a hard time adjusting to dorm life.” As soon as the words left my mouth, a wave of low murmurs rippled through the crowd. Chelsea let out a highly visible sigh of relief. Ms. Gable quickly chimed in. “You see, Mr. Brooks? Even Sienna says it was just a minor roommate dispute. We will make sure to facilitate better communication moving forward to prevent any future misunderstandings.” Nathan didn’t say a word to the advisor. He stepped down from the stage and walked straight toward me, stopping right in front of my row. “Sienna.” He rarely used my full name like that. My tears fell faster, but I refused to look up. As he draped his heavy coat over my trembling shoulders, I reached out and squeezed his sleeve. “Nathan, please, let it go,” I whispered, keeping my voice low enough so only he could hear. “I don’t want everyone to think I can’t survive without my family the second I start college.” He stared at me for a long time. His jaw was clenched with anger, but he slowly forced his breathing to calm down. “Only this once,” he said quietly. I nodded. The ceremony ended abruptly. Chelsea’s scholarship was temporarily withheld, pending further administrative review. Ms. Gable instructed us to return to our dorm, specifically warning me not to blow things out of proportion and damage roommate relations. The moment we stepped back into our room, Chelsea tossed her certificate onto her desk and turned to me with a sharp, mocking smile. “Sienna, I had no idea. You really are a little princess, aren’t you?” I backed up until my shoulders hit the door, my fingers gripping the edge of Nathan’s coat. Chelsea took a step toward me, her presence radiating hostility. “You knew what would happen, didn’t you? If you let your brother ruin me, everyone on campus would hate you even more.” “Spoiled, dramatic, abusing your family’s influence. Don’t you think those labels fit you perfectly?” I opened my mouth to defend myself, but no words came. Only more tears. Watching my face, Chelsea pulled out her phone. “Sienna, your brother put on quite a show today, but in the end, he couldn’t actually touch me, could he?” “So you’re going to be a good girl now and help me record a clarification video.” I shook my head. Her expression darkened instantly. “Sienna, don’t be ungrateful.” “You’re the one who told the school I didn’t bully you. Who’s going to believe you if you try to take it back now?” My tears flowed faster. Chelsea looked at her screen, her harsh expression suddenly melting into a satisfied grin. “Perfect. Keep crying just like that.” “It makes the apology look much more sincere.” 2 On the screen, my eyes were swollen and red, tears still streaming down my face. Chelsea stood beside me, one arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder, looking for all the world like a caring friend offering comfort. But beneath her warm pose, her fingers were digging painfully into my collarbone. “Go on,” she muttered through her teeth, her bright smile never wavering for the camera. I stared at the lens, my throat feeling as though it were blocked by stone. Our other two roommates, Becca and Ashley, crowded around us. Becca leaned against the ladder of her bunk, whispering, “Sienna, just say it. This whole drama is making the entire dorm look bad.” Ashley nodded in agreement. “Exactly, it was just a silly misunderstanding. Chelsea worked so hard to build her platform, and your brother’s little stunt made her look terrible.” I stared at them, completely stunned. So Chelsea was the victim here? Not me, the girl who had been filmed without her consent. Not me, the girl who had spent the last month trapped in this room while they laughed and asked if my tears were just a performance. Seeing my silence, the warmth drained from Chelsea’s face. “Sienna, I thought you wanted to fit in.” “Now the entire dorm is being dragged into this mess because of you. Don’t you think you owe us at least this much?” My fingers trembled. I remembered the day we moved in, when Nathan had carried my heavy suitcases to the threshold of the room. He had stood in the busy corridor, looking down at me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you a private studio?” I had shaken my head, insisting I wanted to try. I wanted to experience normal college life, with roommates, late-night chats, and shared takeout. Nathan had stared at me for a long time before gently patting my head. “If anyone treats you poorly, you come home. I’ll always be here.” But now, I couldn’t run back. If I ran back now, it would prove I was exactly as fragile as everyone thought. More tears fell. “The videos… I knew about them,” I heard myself whisper to the camera. Chelsea’s eyes lit up, and she brought the phone closer to my face. “So your brother just misunderstood the situation today, right?” I bit my lip so hard I tasted metal. “Yes.” “I wasn’t bullied.” Each word felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest. “I was just having a hard time adjusting to dorm life.” “Chelsea didn’t mean any harm.” Satisfied, Chelsea lowered her phone, immediately releasing her grip on my shoulder. She sat down at her desk to start editing. Within ten minutes, the video was live. She had placed the clip of me crying and defending her at the very beginning of the video, followed by the footage of Nathan confronting her in the auditorium. Her caption read: I hope we can stop letting privileged backgrounds ruin the hard work of ordinary students. The comment section exploded. [So she’s the board member’s sister? Figures. Trying to ruin someone’s life over nothing.] [Poor Chelsea. Capitalists almost took away her hard-earned scholarship.] [A rich girl sheds a couple of tears, and an ordinary student’s future is nearly destroyed.] I stared at the screen, the room suddenly feeling suffocatingly small. At eleven o’clock that night, my phone rang. It was Nathan. I stared at his contact name for a long time, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. A moment later, a text popped up. Sienna, did you record that video of your own free will? My tears splashed onto the screen as I tried to type. I wrote and deleted several responses before finally sending three words. Yes, I did. The second the message sent, Chelsea reached over from behind and snatched my phone from my hand. She glanced at the screen and let out a sharp laugh. “Sienna, you really are a good girl.” I reached out to grab it back, but she easily hid it behind her back. “I’ll keep this for now,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Just to make sure you don’t change your mind in the middle of the night and complain to your brother.” My eyes welled with tears again. “Give it back.” Chelsea raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “Say it louder.” “In fact, keep crying.” “I can film another video tomorrow: The board member’s sister throws a midnight tantrum in the dorm.” 3 I forced myself to look up, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. Chelsea spun her chair around, crossing her arms as she stared down at me. “Sienna, didn’t you just tell your brother you wanted to handle things yourself?” “If you want to be independent, stop pretending to be strong while secretly running to your family for protection.” The words hit me like a slap to the face. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. She was right. I had promised my family I could handle college, but the moment things got difficult, my first instinct was to look for Nathan. The mockery in Chelsea’s eyes deepened. “Do you know what people are saying about you online?” She unlocked her own phone, opening her comment section and reading the words aloud. “The board member’s sister is so fragile, the whole school has to tiptoe around her.” “People like her should just stay locked in their mansions instead of ruining other people’s lives.” “Sienna, your brother might look powerful, but do you really think he can fight the entire internet for you?” I lowered my head, my tears falling silently onto my sleeve. Becca sat at her desk, staring at her computer in silence. Ashley pretended to study, refusing to look up. Chelsea set her phone down, her tone softening slightly, though her words remained sharp. “Your brother might defend you in public, but don’t you think he’s getting tired of your drama?” I snapped my head up. “Nathan would never feel that way.” “Are you sure?” she countered with a smug grin. “Of course he comforts you. You’ve been coddled your entire life.” “But you’re eighteen now, and you can’t even handle a simple roommate dynamic without your big brother rushing the stage to save you.” She paused, her eyes scanning my face. “Sienna, don’t you find that embarrassing?” The color drained from my face. A cold wave of dread washed over me. What if Chelsea was telling the truth? What if Nathan was tired of constantly managing my emotional sensitivity? What if my parents had spent eighteen years protecting me, only to realize I couldn’t even survive a normal university dorm? I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white. “They don’t think I’m a burden,” I whispered, my voice trembling. Chelsea let out a quiet laugh. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She stood up and walked over to me, looking down at me with disdain. “I’m not like you, Sienna. I built my platform from nothing. Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights I spent, how much hate I had to endure to get here?” “I finally earned my followers and my scholarship, and you almost ruined all of it with a few cheap tears.” “My brother funded that scholarship to reward real creativity, not exploitation,” I managed to say. Jealousy and resentment flared in her eyes. “And what do you have, Sienna? Aside from your constant crying?” “If your last name weren’t Brooks, do you think a single person on this campus would care about you?” I couldn’t find the words to reply. Three days later, the university scheduled a formal review of the scholarship. Chelsea had stopped filming me, but our academic advisor, Ms. Gable, called me into her office. “Sienna, I know you are a sensitive girl, but Chelsea has worked incredibly hard for her achievements.” “The public backlash against her is growing, and the administration wants to resolve this quietly. We need to make sure the situation doesn’t escalate.” She slid a document across the desk toward me. I, Sienna Brooks, hereby confirm that the videos filmed by Chelsea were entirely voluntary roommate logs, and no coercion, threats, or harassment took place. I stared at the print, my vision blurring as tears pooled in my eyes. My hand shook so violently I could barely hold the pen. Ms. Gable let out a long sigh. “You said you wanted to integrate into campus life, didn’t you? It’s best not to burn bridges with your peers.” In the end, I didn’t sign it. When I returned to the dorm, Chelsea’s face was dark with anger. From that night on, she placed that document on my desk every single evening. I could barely swallow any food. The sound of a phone notification made me physically nauseous. Whenever I managed to fall asleep, I dreamed of standing in that massive auditorium, with hundreds of faceless students staring at me while I sobbed. The days blurred together. On the night before the final review hearing, Chelsea pushed the paper in front of me once more. “You’re going to read this tomorrow.” I looked at my name on the page, my tears dripping onto the paper and smudging the signature line. Chelsea leaned down, her whisper cold against my ear. “Sienna, if you want to prove you can survive in the real world, stop running to your brother like a child.” 4 On the day of the review hearing, Chelsea dressed in a conservative, light-colored suit. She tied her hair back neatly, presenting herself as a diligent, hardworking student who was being unfairly targeted. The public online consensus had shifted in her favor, many arguing that an ordinary student’s future shouldn’t be destroyed just because her roommate had a wealthy family. Reading those comments had restored Chelsea’s confidence. She even offered me a mocking smile before we left the room. “Your brother made a big scene, but in the end, the school still has to follow procedure.” “So, Sienna, don’t assume your family can control everything.” “Even they have to respect public opinion.” Becca helped adjust Chelsea’s collar, whispering, “Her engagement metrics are real. A hundred thousand followers is a big deal.” Ashley agreed. “And Sienna won’t dare to lie on the record.” Chelsea smiled, clutching her portfolio to her chest. “I just hope the committee evaluates my merit fairly.” She looked at me, her eyes entirely devoid of fear. I sat on the edge of my bed, clutching the crumpled statement in my hands. After staring at it for what felt like hours, I finally spoke. “I’m not going to read this.” The room fell into an instant, icy silence. The smile vanished from Chelsea’s face. “What did you just say?” My tears were already falling, but I kept my head high, shaking it. “I told you to stop filming me. You all heard me.” Chelsea slammed her portfolio onto her desk. “Oh, now you remember you didn’t want to be filmed?” “Who recorded that clarification video, Sienna? Do you think the real world functions like your mansion, where everyone bows down the second you shed a tear?” She took a slow step toward me, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Your brother is going to be in that room today. You better think carefully. If you keep changing your story, do you think he’ll still view you as an innocent victim, or just a constant source of trouble?” My face went completely pale. Her grin returned, sharp and malicious. “People like you are the worst. You pretend to be normal when you can’t handle a single thing.” “If I were you, I’d run back to my family and stay locked inside so you don’t ruin everyone else’s lives.” I squeezed the paper in my hand, crushing it. Becca glanced at my pale face and frowned slightly. “Chelsea, that’s enough. She looks really sick.” Chelsea let out a cold laugh. “She’s great at crying. She can go find a corner to sob in and come back when she’s done. Isn’t that her specialty?” She shoved the statement back into my hands. “Read it exactly as it’s written.” “If you miss a single word, I’ll make sure the entire campus knows how the board member’s sister uses her family’s wealth to bully ordinary students.” “Let’s see how your family’s business handles that kind of press.” When I stood up, my legs felt hollow, barely able to support my weight. Holding the paper, I walked out of the room and down the long corridor. When the elevator doors opened, several students inside noticed me and immediately began whispering. “That’s her, right? The crying rich girl.” “Poor Chelsea. Imagine having a roommate who can destroy your future with a single tear.” I lowered my head, my tears dripping onto the paper in my hand. When the review hearing began, Chelsea sat before the committee, her posture perfect and her voice calm. “Administrators, I welcome this review and any constructive feedback. But I hope my merit won’t be dismissed simply because of my roommate’s family background.” She turned her gaze toward Nathan, who sat near the head of the table. “Mr. Brooks, you established this scholarship to encourage authentic student creators. I believe my engagement metrics speak for themselves.” Nathan’s face remained completely expressionless. Just as the committee was about to play her submission materials, the heavy doors of the conference room were pushed open. A campus security officer, pale and out of breath, ran inside. “We have an emergency.” “Sienna Brooks is missing.” Nathan stood up instantly, his chair scraping violently against the floor. The officer gasped, his voice trembling. “The security camera last caught her entering the door to the media building’s rooftop.”

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1 My dad was a violent drunk. Every time he went off the deep end, his fists would find my little brother and me. When the dust settled, he’d always toss a few crumpled bills my way as a twisted apology. I took the cash without a word. I even used it to buy his favorite greasy pork ribs and the cheap, burning moonshine he loved. The neighbors tried to call the cops for us, but I always shook my head, rubbing my bruised arms with a quiet, knowing smile. If he beats me, Bobby gets a break. But that was before the night he lost his mind completely and pushed Bobby off the edge of that unfinished high-rise at the construction site. Frank’s backhand caught me hard across the jaw. I heard the sickening crack of my teeth colliding, and my cheek instantly flared like it was on fire. The taste of copper flooded my mouth. A crumpled fifty-dollar bill fluttered down, landing near my boots. “Take it! Pick it up, you useless brat!” “Consider it a tip from your old man. Go get yourself something to patch that ugly face of yours!” Frank’s neck was thick and flushed red, his chest heaving as he spat the words, spraying warm saliva all over my face. I said nothing. I just knelt down, using my swollen, throbbing fingers to pry the bill off the dusty floorboards. It was stained with a mixture of my blood and Bobby’s. But I knew money was the only way out. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve, slowly lifting my eyes to stare at him. “What are you looking at? Keep staring like that and I’ll gouge those eyes out and pickle them in a jar!” “Get the hell out of here and buy me my liquor!” He roared, slumping his heavy frame into the creaking, stained armchair. The worn leather groaned under his weight. In the dark corner of the kitchen, Bobby was curled up behind the rusty stove, trembling. His skinny arms were swollen, covered in angry red and purple welts from the leather belt. I walked over and knelt beside him, gently touching his burning skin with my cold fingers. He flinched, looking up at me with eyes filled with pure, unadulterated hatred. “Nora… it hurts…” he whimpered. “Bite your tongue,” I whispered directly into his ear, my voice entirely devoid of warmth. “It’s almost over.” I stood up, clutching the fifty dollars tightly in my fist, and stepped out into the howling, dusty wind. The cheap liquor store down the road smelled of stale beer and old cardboard. I slapped the bills onto the counter. “Ten pints of your strongest moonshine, Mr. Higgins,” I said. “The kind that burns right through your stomach.” Higgins looked at the fresh bruise blooming on my cheek and sighed. “Oh, Nora, sweetheart… why do you keep doing this to yourself?” “He beats you half to death, and you still run errands for him?” A regular sitting near the door, nursing a cheap beer, chimed in. “Frank’s a damn animal. If I were you, kid, I’d have slipped some rat poison into his glass a long time ago.” I ignored them, my face a blank mask as I watched the clerk pour the cloudy, amber liquid into a plastic jug. Next door, I bought two pounds of thick, fatty pork belly, dripping with grease. By the time I got back to the trailer, Frank was passed out on the table, his snores rattling the thin windowpanes. I slammed the heavy jug onto the wood. The thud startled him awake. He bolted upright, blinking wildly. “My drink! Where’s my damn drink!” “Did you steal a sip of it, you little thief?” He snatched the jug, ripped the cap off with his teeth, and guzzled it down. The cloudy liquor spilled down his stubble, soaking his dirty undershirt. “Here’s the pork, Dad. Eat it while it’s hot,” I said, my voice dripping with sweet obedience. “Nice and greasy, just the way you like it.” I pushed the plate toward him. He grabbed a handful of the glistening fat, shoving it into his mouth, grease smearing across his chin. “Yeah… Nora’s a good girl… not like that worthless brother of yours…” “That kid is a curse… a goddamn curse…” Suddenly, he stopped, raised his calloused hand, and delivered a violent slap to his own face. The sharp crack echoed through the cramped room, making Bobby flinch in his corner. “I didn’t have a choice… I really didn’t…” He broke down, sobbing hysterically, snot and tears mixing with the grease on his face. I stood in the shadows, watching him with cold, calculating eyes. I reached into my pocket and touched a neatly folded piece of paper, the accidental death insurance policy. Under the dim, flickering light bulb, I mentally counted down the days until it took effect. Just three more days. If I could survive three more days, his miserable life would finally be worth something. Once Frank finished crying, he took another massive swig of the moonshine and exhaled a hot, boozy breath right into my face. “Drink up, Nora… take a sip… it makes the pain go away…” “Drink it, and you’ll see your mother again…” He shoved the jug toward me, his bloodshot eyes boring into mine. I stared at the thick vein pulsing erratically on his neck. I wondered how many more times that vein would beat before it went still forever. “I’m fine, Dad. I don’t hurt,” I said softly. Inside the damp, sweltering trailer, the air was heavy with the stench of sweat and cheap alcohol. I quietly rubbed soothing liniment onto Bobby’s back. With every touch, his muscles tensed, but he bit his lip, refusing to make a sound. 2 “Nora, I want to kill him.” Bobby spoke suddenly, his voice chillingly flat. My hand froze. A drop of the dark red liniment fell onto the worn mattress, blooming like a fresh drop of blood. “Shut your mouth,” I hissed, keeping my voice low. “You go to prison for murder. We are going to survive this, Bobby. We have to live.” “Then how much longer?” He turned his head, his dark eyes locked onto mine. “Soon.” I pulled his shirt down, covering the raw welts. “Just wait for the date. Once it comes, we’re free.” Outside, Frank’s booming voice carried through the thin walls as he bragged to his drinking buddies. “I’m telling you, having a daughter is like sitting on a goldmine! When she’s old enough, I’ll marry her off to the highest bidder. Twenty grand, minimum!” “Quit dreaming, Frank. That girl of yours is as skinny as a stray cat. Who’d pay for that?” “Shut your mouth! She’s delicate, that’s what! Besides, she’s obedient. She does exactly what I tell her to do!” A chorus of crude laughter echoed outside. My chest remained completely hollow. No anger, no sadness. Just empty. At dinner, I took a bottle of his blood pressure medication and slipped in a few crushed tablets of Disulfiram, a severe alcohol-deterrent drug. I’d read about it online. On its own, it was harmless, but when mixed with alcohol, it triggered violent, terrifying psychotic episodes within minutes. Frank didn’t suspect a thing. He tossed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a heavy swig of moonshine. “Why’s this stuff taste so bitter?” He grimaced, wiping his mouth. “It’s the new imported stuff, Dad. It’s supposed to work better,” I lied without blinking. A few minutes later, the reaction hit. Frank became wildly erratic. He started pacing the trailer, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. “Ghosts! There are goddamn ghosts in here! She’s back!” “She’s come to drag me to hell!” He screamed, pointing his empty jug at the empty corner, swinging it wildly. Bobby and I huddled together on the mattress, watching him lose his mind. The drug was working perfectly. The next morning, Bill, a local subcontractor who doubled as a sleazy matchmaker, knocked on our door. “Listen, Frank, Nora is getting older,” Bill said, leaning against the doorframe. “Lame Pete down the road is willing to pay five thousand dollars cash for her…” The shirt I was washing slipped from my hands. But to my surprise, Frank flew into a violent rage. He grabbed Bill’s bottle of whiskey and smashed it on the floor. “Get the hell out of here, you old leech!” “Who said I’m selling my girl? She’s going to college!” He grabbed a rusted shovel and swung it at Bill’s head. Bill scrambled out of the trailer, cursing and running for his life. I stood frozen, staring at my father. Late that night, a strange, metallic scraping sound woke me. Bobby was sitting upright at the edge of the mattress. Under the pale moonlight, he was holding a pair of rusted sewing shears, tracing the air right behind Frank’s sleeping head. I lunged forward, ripping the shears from his hands and covering his mouth. “Are you insane? We agreed I would handle this!” I whispered fiercely. Bobby looked at me, his eyes filling with a strange, childlike hurt. “Nora, I don’t want to wait anymore. What if he sells you? I don’t want to be left alone.” I pulled his frail body into a tight hug, my tears finally spilling over. “He won’t. I will never leave you, Bobby. I promise.” The next afternoon, Frank woke up sober. He sat on the edge of his creaking bed, staring at an old, faded photograph of Bobby and me. We were laughing in the picture, back when Mom was still alive. A heavy tear fell onto the plastic frame, right over Mom’s face. “Nora… look after your brother… I’m a piece of garbage…” “I’m so sorry…” he muttered, his voice cracked and hollow. I stood by the doorway, listening to his pathetic confession, my mind entirely focused on the poisoned liquor waiting in the cupboard. The sky outside turned a bruised, heavy purple as a storm rolled in. Up on the construction site, the wind howled through the skeletal steel structures. The thirty-story unfinished building had nothing but a few loose metal pipes acting as a guardrail. Frank was on the night shift, guarding the materials on the roof. Using the excuse of bringing him dinner, I slipped past the broken security cameras with Bobby in tow. By the time we climbed thirty flights of stairs, my legs were shaking violently. “Nora, this is it,” Bobby whispered, pointing to the loose guardrail at the edge of the abyss. He reached into his backpack and handed me a heavy wrench. 3 “Do it, Nora. Just loosen it a couple of turns.” “Nobody will ever know. It’ll look like a tragic accident.” I took the wrench, my palms slick with sweat. I knelt on the cold concrete, forcing the wrench onto the rusted bolt holding the guardrail together. The metal was seized. I pulled so hard my fingernail cracked, a thin line of blood oozing onto the gray steel. “Let me do it,” Bobby said, pushing me aside. He wedged a small pry bar into the joint. With a sharp metallic pop, the weak weld snapped. The guardrail wobbled slightly. Then, we smeared a thick layer of discarded motor oil over the concrete near the edge. Bobby looked at our trap, a quiet, eerie smile spreading across his face. We packed up our tools, ready to slip away unnoticed. But as we reached the stairwell of the second floor, a dry cough echoed from the shadows. “Who’s there? Trying to steal my steel, you rats?” “Stop right there!” It was Frank. I grabbed Bobby’s hand, ready to bolt. “Nora? Bobby? What the hell are you two doing here?” Frank stepped out of the darkness, shining a flashlight directly into our faces. The blinding light made me wince. I instinctively shifted my weight to hide the backpack behind my frame. “Dad… I… it looked like it was going to pour, so we brought you a thick jacket,” I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. Frank eyed us suspiciously, his flashlight lingering on our mud-caked boots. “Why didn’t you call me first?” “This place is a death trap at night. You could have broken your necks!” He muttered a curse, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small plastic bottle, shoving it into my hands. “Take this. It’s calcium vitamins for the kid. He’s too damn small for his age.” I squeezed the plastic bottle, still warm from his body heat. “Thanks, Dad. Just… be careful up there. The wind is bad.” “Don’t drink too much.” “Yeah, yeah. Get the hell home and do your homework! You’re both a pain in my ass!” He waved us off, turning to make the long climb up the stairs. His back looked so bent, so fragile in the dark. I watched him go, the heavy wrench in my backpack pressing hard against my spine. At midnight, the storm hit with full force. Lightning fractured the sky, and thunder drowned out the world. Bobby and I, wrapped in dark raincoats, made our way back up to the roof. Inside the makeshift guard shack, Frank was sitting near the edge, a bottle in hand. It was the bottle of moonshine I had heavily spiked with Disulfiram. The burning, cheap alcohol had completely masked the bitter drug. He had drunk nearly the entire bottle. His eyes were bulging, his face twisted in a manic frenzy. “Drink! Everybody drinks!” “Just you and me tonight, sweetheart! Let’s drink to the end!” Seeing us walk in, he slammed the bottle onto the table. “Nora! Bobby! Perfect timing!” “Look! Your mother is here to take us home! She’s flying up there!” He pointed a trembling finger into the dark, stormy sky, his face contorted in a grotesque grin. Suddenly, his expression shifted, turning dark and feral. “Wait… no! You cheating whore! Who is that man with you?” “You brought your lover to my house?” He grabbed a wooden stool and smashed it against the empty air. Splinters flew everywhere. He spun around, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Bobby. “It’s you! You little bastard!” “You ruined her! You’re not my son, you’re the product of her filthy secrets! You’re trying to destroy me, aren’t you?” He lunged forward, clutching a broken wooden leg from the stool. “Run, Bobby! Run!” I screamed, shoving my brother toward the edge of the platform. Bobby shrieked, stumbling backward in the mud and rain. “I’m cleansing this house tonight!” Frank roared, chasing after him. “Both of you are going to burn!” Bobby slipped near the loosened guardrail, his feet sliding on the motor oil. He fell backward, his lower half dangling over the thirty-story drop. “Help! Nora, help me!” Bobby screamed. Frank reached the edge, his manic rage instantly freezing into pure horror as he saw Bobby slipping. “Bobby!” Frank bellowed, dropping the wooden club and lunging forward without a second thought. He grabbed Bobby by the collar, throwing his entire weight backward to pull his son up. But the guardrail couldn’t hold them both. The metal pipe tore free with a violent snap. Frank lost his footing, his body rolling over the slick concrete and slipping over the edge. But the momentum of his desperate pull threw Bobby forward, back onto the safe concrete of the roof. Bobby lay there, panting, his eyes incredibly cold and calm. Frank, however, hadn’t fallen yet. He was dangling from the edge, his thick, calloused fingers desperately gripping a rusted rebar hook. The torrential rain beat down on his face. “Nora… save me… pull me up…” “Please, Nora…” He saw me walking toward the edge, a flicker of desperate hope igniting in his eyes. I knelt on the wet concrete, looking down at him. Rainwater ran down my hair, stinging my eyes. I slowly reached out, placing my hands over his trembling fingers. “Dad, didn’t you say living was too hard anyway?” I whispered. Frank froze, his eyes widening. “Nora… what are you doing… I’m your father…” “I’m your dad…” “I know,” I said, a faint smile breaking across my face. “That’s why I’m sending you to Mom. She’s been waiting for you.” I began to pry his fingers away from the steel, one by one. But just before his grip broke, a sudden, ice-cold shiver ran down my spine. Through the heavy curtain of rain behind me, I heard a sound. A tiny, faint footstep. Frank’s eyes bypassed me, staring directly into the shadows over my shoulder, his face contorted in absolute terror. “Run!” he screamed. The next second, before I could even push him, he let go of the rebar himself.

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1 For years of our marriage, my husband Johnny built his entire persona around being entirely unbothered by the world. When I woke up at dawn to make him elaborate breakfasts, he would merely offer a brief nod. When I camped out overnight on the pavement to buy his favorite limited edition sneakers, he just gave a faint smile and moved on. Even when I lost our baby, he simply patted my shoulder, his voice laced with mild regret, telling me it was fine, we would have another, and we shouldn’t dwell on the past. He even had the audacity to stand outside my recovery room, checking his watch, informing me he truly had no time to stay and look after me because a business trip awaited him. I always convinced myself that this was just who he was. I rationalized it, telling myself that people simply have different ways of expressing emotions. That was until the day he walked through the front door, his eyes alight with a joy I had never seen before. He pulled a piece of stationery from his pocket, grinning from ear to ear. “Look at this,” he said, his voice practically vibrating. “Sophie brought it back from Europe. She said the texture of the parchment over there is entirely different from ours. I need to take a closer look at this.” Sophie was his childhood best friend. She had moved back to the States a month ago and conveniently landed a job at Johnny’s research institute. I stared at him. Then I smiled, reaching into my own bag to hand him a piece of paper. “The texture of this paper is quite unique too. I’d appreciate it if you could study this one just as closely.” I had never seen him wear his heart on his sleeve like that. He held that single sheet of stationery as if it were a rare, priceless artifact. In his rush to get through the door, he had even stepped on the heels of the exact limited edition sneakers I had painstakingly scrubbed clean that morning. Before my gasp of dismay could even leave my throat, he was already standing right in front of me. On the dining table sat his absolute favorite meal, a rich, slow simmered beef curry. He was completely blind to it. His mind, his eyes, his entire being were consumed by that single piece of paper. “Look at this,” he repeated. “Sophie said this parchment absorbs even the heaviest fountain pen ink without bleeding. The detailing on the edges is gorgeous, isn’t it? It looks like an old European castle. So elegant. We went to Europe for our honeymoon, why didn’t we think to buy something like this as a souvenir?” He rambled on and on, the words spilling out of him until the curry on the table grew cold. I finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Are you still eating dinner?” He didn’t even turn his head as he walked toward his study. “Oh, I already ate. Sophie mentioned the new bistro downstairs from our building was fantastic, so we went to try it out today. She was right.” My chest tightened, and my voice pitched higher than I intended. “Then why didn’t you tell me earlier? When I texted you, you said you were coming home for dinner. I spent hours simmering this curry.” He only paused when his hand was on the study doorknob. He glanced back, his expression returning to its usual flatline. “Sorry, Hazel. I forgot to text you back. It was a spur of the moment decision. I’ll definitely eat with you next time.” Next time. Over the past month, I had been force fed too many “next times”. Next time I’ll let you know in advance. Next time I’ll buy your favorite takeout. Next time I won’t forget our plans. Johnny, life doesn’t always offer a next time. And I had a feeling he was going to learn that lesson very soon. Johnny was my father’s star pupil at the university. The first time he visited our house for a holiday dinner, I fell for him instantly. I have always been the kind of woman who fights tooth and nail for what she wants. So, from the moment I laid eyes on him, I pursued him relentlessy. They say a woman chasing a man is as easy as piercing a veil of silk, but that rule clearly skipped Johnny. Most of the time, he gave me nothing but cold indifference. But he treated everyone else with the same frosty detachment, so I chalked it up to his personality. I told myself I had just fallen in love with a stone, and I fully believed I possessed enough warmth to melt it. It took me six years of trying. Eventually, he nodded. He agreed to be mine. A year into dating, we tied the knot. My father was absolutely thrilled. He adored Johnny, and because of that, he pulled countless strings to pave the way for Johnny’s academic career. Sometimes it felt like my father and my husband had more to talk about than Johnny and I did. Our marriage was respectful, quiet, and mostly harmonious. But the coldness radiating from him was far deeper than I ever anticipated. I changed up the breakfast menu every single day, yet not once did a word of praise cross his lips. When I heard about the release of those sneakers he obsessed over, I flew to Paris, abandoning my own shopping plans to sit on the pavement all night. When I handed him the box, he just offered a polite smile. Not a single word of genuine gratitude. When I unexpectedly lost our baby, he stood by the hospital bed and told me the timing was wrong anyway. I went through the trauma alone, bleeding and terrified, while he simply called once to ask if the procedure was done. If this was simply who he was, I thought I could swallow the bitter pill. Love is supposed to be tolerant. It celebrates the virtues and forgives the flaws. But then he walked back out of his study, holding that piece of stationery again, a genuine smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I just ordered a few more sets online. The patterns are different, but they should be just as beautiful. I really need to spend some time looking into this.” Snap. The invisible string keeping my sanity intact finally broke. His behavior over the past month had been a glaring, neon sign, reminding me that he wasn’t inherently cold. He just never wanted to spend his warmth on me. I smiled at him. I reached into my bag and pulled out a document I had prepared three days ago. I finally found the courage to hand it over. “The texture of this paper is quite unique too. I’d appreciate it if you could study this one just as closely.” It was a divorce agreement. 2 When Johnny saw the bold letters at the top of the page, a flicker of genuine shock finally cracked his composed facade. Thank God he didn’t look completely dead inside, otherwise I really would have felt like the punchline of a terrible joke. He furrowed his brows, looking genuinely bewildered. “Why bring up divorce out of nowhere? If there’s something I’m doing wrong, you can just tell me. I didn’t think we had any real issues.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Sophie came back a month ago, didn’t she?” His frown deepened, confusion shifting into mild annoyance. “Are you throwing a tantrum over Sophie? I told you about that later, didn’t I? I was busy sorting out her employment, so I forgot to mention it to you. Is it really that big of a deal?” I genuinely didn’t want to come across as an aggressive, bitter woman. But he clearly mistook my years of patience for a lack of a spine. “Did you forget to tell me, or did you actively hide it from me? Because that position she just got was supposed to be mine, wasn’t it?” I took a step closer, my voice dangerously soft. “You know damn well that if it were a fair fight, her resume belongs in the trash compared to mine. On academic merits alone, I would crush her.” “You knew that if you didn’t pull the strings in the shadows, she wouldn’t stand a chance. You were terrified I would step in and ruin her little dream job.” “Darling, you really outdid yourself. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that someone would plot against me so meticulously. And to think, that someone is my own husband.” A heavy silence fell over the room. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before finally speaking. “You don’t need this specific job. Professor Bennett will arrange something else for you.” I nodded slowly, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Right. Who needs a husband when they have a father? So let’s get this divorce over with. That way, you can go back to being someone else’s lapdog without any distractions.” Mentioning the divorce seemed to finally inject some color into his pale face. His tone lost its usual detached calmness. “At the end of the day, you’re just jealous that I helped Sophie get a job. Since you insist on dragging this out, let me explain it to you.” “Sophie came back to the States because her mother is sick. Her mom is receiving treatment at the university hospital. Getting her that specific role means she can just walk across the campus to visit her mother after work.” “I even asked your father, and he agreed this role wasn’t the best fit for your long term career goals. My mother also begged me to do this favor for Sophie.” Before he could finish his pathetic defense, I cut him off. “You thought about Sophie. You thought about her mother. You thought about your mother. You even factored in my dad. But did you, for a single second, think about your wife?” He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. I couldn’t tell if he was out of excuses or just deemed me unworthy of one. It didn’t matter anymore. When I walked into the bedroom to pack my suitcases, he stood leaning against the doorframe, watching me in silence. He suddenly asked, “Why are you being so absolute about this? When a couple hits a rough patch, aren’t they supposed to work through it? You bring up the issue, I fix it. Who just skips straight to a death sentence?” I stopped folding my clothes. I turned to look at him, enunciating every single word. “I gave you chances.” “An entire month’s worth of chances. If, even once, your priority had been me, maybe I wouldn’t be packing right now.” “But every single time, you told me ‘next time’. Right up until ten minutes ago, when you missed what was supposed to be our breakup dinner. I figured you wouldn’t show up, so I put the leftovers in the fridge.” Before grabbing my coat, I reached out and patted his cheek twice. It was the most disrespectful thing I had ever done to him, but I no longer had to play the role of the perfect, obedient wife. “Don’t look so miserable, honey. I always preferred you when you looked entirely unbothered by my existence. Keep up the good work. I’m leaving.” 3 I was never his first choice. Everything and everyone had to step aside for Sophie. Just like this time. Johnny had everything perfectly wrapped up for her before he even bothered to drop the news on me. By the time he confessed, she had already been back in the country for two weeks. But the truth was, I knew the very day she landed. Because that was the first time Johnny ever broke a promise to me without a logical excuse. Johnny was a man ruled by his calendar. If he couldn’t make a dinner date, he would call hours in advance to reschedule. When he didn’t show up, I called my dad, since they worked in the same building. My dad sounded surprised over the phone. “Johnny said he was going to the airport to pick up an old friend from his hometown. Why didn’t you go with him?” Who said I didn’t? I tracked his car’s GPS straight to the upscale steakhouse we always went to for our anniversaries. Standing outside the floor to ceiling windows, I saw the two of them. My stoic, unsmiling husband was sitting there, his eyes entirely soft, meticulously cutting a piece of steak for another woman. We had eaten at that exact table dozens of times. Not once had he ever unfolded my napkin or offered to cut my food. I remembered one specific night vividly. The kitchen had overcooked my steak, and the knife they gave me was completely blunt. Feeling romantic, I had leaned over and playfully asked him to help me cut it, hoping for a cinematic, sweet moment. He didn’t say a word. He just slid his sharper knife across the table toward me. I had laughed it off, assuming he was just blind to romance. But he wasn’t blind. He knew exactly how to be romantic. From that day until now, for a full month. I turned into a stalker, haunting the edges of their lives, desperately trying to force my presence onto Johnny. I was looking for proof that I was loved. Instead, all I found was the humiliating, undeniable evidence that I wasn’t. 4 After serving the papers, I moved out of our house immediately. Then Johnny started acting completely out of character. He began texting me morning and night. Whenever he had a free moment, he would send me updates about his day at the lab. He even actively started networking to find me a new job. When I shut him down for the fifth time, his voice on the phone dripped with exhaustion. “Hazel, I am really trying to fix this. Even a man on death row gets a chance to appeal, doesn’t he?” I replied without missing a beat. “Too bad you’re not on death row. The comparison doesn’t work.” I thought a response that icy would finally force him to back off. Clearly, I underestimated his persistence. This time, he booked a dinner with a senior faculty member who had deep ties to my father. My usual excuses for declining wouldn’t work without offending the older professor. So, I had to show up. “You finally decided to give me a chance.” Johnny smiled at me across the private dining room. I just looked at him. He was wearing his usual crisp suit, his hair perfectly styled. But beneath the polish, there was a deep, bone weary exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes told me his life hadn’t been easy lately. “Let’s talk after dinner,” he said softly. “Cards on the table. At least let me understand why I’m dying.” But the appetizers had barely arrived when his phone started buzzing. It rang so relentlessly that even the senior professor cleared his throat. “Johnny, my boy, it sounds like an emergency. You better take that. Don’t let me keep you from important business.” Johnny looked mortified. He glanced at me, then firmly shook his head. “It’s nothing important, Professor. Please, let’s continue.” To prove his point, he reached into his pocket and powered the phone off completely. I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Because in the second before he turned the screen away, I had seen the caller ID. It was Sophie. I knew better than anyone just how deep his bias for her ran. Hanging up on her was probably a first in his entire lifetime. Just as I was starting to wonder if I had misjudged him, if he was actually capable of change. The dining room doors swung open. Sophie stood there, her eyes red, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. She didn’t say a word. She just looked at him, turned on her heel, and ran. Johnny’s carefully constructed calm shattered instantly. He didn’t even pause to offer an apology to the senior professor. He bolted out of the chair and chased after her, leaving me and the old man staring at each other in stunned silence. “What… what on earth was that?” the professor stammered, clearly bewildered by the soap opera playing out in front of him. I shook my head. I should have known better. Johnny was exactly the man he had always been. Sophie was his absolute baseline, his one non negotiable. Thank God I hadn’t fallen for his little redemption act. I would never be foolish enough to believe him again. I picked up my glass of red wine and drained it in one smooth motion, swallowing down the last bitter traces of my past with Johnny. Because starting tomorrow, my life belonged entirely to me.

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1 On the day of our wedding anniversary, I brought a homemade, carefully packed lunch to my wife’s corporate headquarters. The receptionist froze for a solid three seconds when she saw me. “Nolan, Ms. Whitmore isn’t in today. she started her maternity leave.” I stared at her. I told her I had no idea my wife was pregnant. All the color drained from the receptionist’s face. She immediately backtracked, stammering that she must have remembered the schedule wrong. A cold chill crept up my spine. I pulled out my phone and remotely accessed the dashcam footage from Kate’s luxury SUV. The live feed showed a man carefully supporting my wife by the arm as they walked into the doors of an exclusive private maternity clinic. Their body language was undeniably intimate. When the man turned his head in the footage, my stomach dropped. I recognized him instantly. It was my best friend, Joshua. Three years ago, when I was hospitalized after a severe car crash, Joshua had visited me every single day. Back then, my wife used to tease me, saying my best buddy pampered me more than my own mother would. I dialed Kate’s number. The background noise on her end was loud and chaotic. “What is it, honey? My meeting hasn’t wrapped up yet.” The words of confrontation hovered right on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to scream and ask her why. But I swallowed the bile down. “Nothing. I just missed you.” I hung up the phone. If these two pieces of trash wanted each other so badly, I would let them rot together. I sat in the pitch black living room, my eyes locked on the front door as it finally swung open. “Kate, was your corporate board meeting held at a maternity clinic today?” The motion sensor lights in the entryway flickered to life. Kate’s hand was still resting gently on Joshua’s forearm. At the sound of my voice, her entire body went rigid. Joshua instinctively shrank back, hiding slightly behind her. He gripped the lapel of Kate’s tailored blazer, his eyes instantly welling up with tears. “Kate, I told you I shouldn’t have let you accompany me. Nolan is definitely misunderstanding this.” His voice was a fragile whisper, dripping with manufactured victimhood. Kate furrowed her brow, stepping slightly to the side to shield his body with her own. She tossed her car keys onto the credenza. The metal smacked against the wood with a jarring clatter. “Nolan, what kind of psychotic episode are you having tonight? Are you spying on me?” She marched toward me, her tone laced with heavy impatience. I tossed my phone onto the glass coffee table. The screen was frozen on a screenshot from that morning, showing her delicately helping Joshua out of the passenger seat right in front of the clinic. “I went to your office to bring you lunch. Your receptionist told me you were on maternity leave.” I kept my voice deadpan. “I didn’t even know my own wife was pregnant, yet another man is already escorting you to your prenatal checkups.” Kate glanced at the glowing screen. For a fraction of a second, guilt flashed across her face. But she quickly squared her shoulders, her arrogance returning in full force. “Joshua has a weak constitution. He actually fainted a few days ago.” “I took him to the clinic for a full blood panel, and I just happened to get my checkup done while we were there.” She looked down at me as if I were a speck of dirt on her designer shoes. “When you were in that car wreck three years ago, he practically lived at the hospital taking care of you.” “Now that he’s unwell, what is wrong with me, as your wife, stepping up to repay that debt of gratitude?” Her self righteous speech actually made me laugh out loud. “Repay my debt? So you kept it a total secret from me, took time off work, and hid your pregnancy just to keep him company?” Joshua stepped out from behind her, fat tears rolling down his pale cheeks. “Nolan, please don’t be mad at Kate. I begged her to keep my health issues a secret. I didn’t want to worry you.” He took a step forward, reaching out as if to grab my hand. I sidestepped, refusing to let him touch me. Without my support, he dramatically stumbled forward, collapsing onto the plush living room rug. Kate’s face twisted in pure rage. She immediately dropped to her knees to help him up. “Nolan! What the hell is wrong with you! You know his health is fragile, he can’t handle this kind of stress!” She roared at me, the veins in her neck bulging. I looked down at my hands. I hadn’t even made physical contact with the man. “Are you legally blind, Kate? I never even touched him.” Joshua leaned his weight heavily against Kate’s chest, shaking his head weakly. “Kate, I’m fine. I just lost my balance. It’s not Nolan’s fault.” “My chest just feels a little tight. I think I’ve been standing for too long today.” Kate wrapped her arms protectively around his shoulders, whipping her head around to glare at me with absolute venom. “Look at how bitter and toxic you’ve become. Where is the refined gentleman I married?” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger right at my face. “Let me make this perfectly clear. If anything happens to Joshua’s health, I will hold you personally responsible.” I stood there, quietly watching her unhinged display. This was the woman who had once sworn to love me for the rest of her life. Now, she was verbally eviscerating me over the pathetic lies of another man. I took a deep breath, swallowing the intense nausea churning in my gut. “Kate, take him and get out of my house.” She froze, clearly stunned that I had the nerve to kick her out. She let out a sharp, condescending laugh, her eyes sweeping over me with utter disgust. “Get your facts straight, Nolan.” “This house might have been left to you by your dead parents, but I am the one making the money to keep the lights on.” “You sit around here all day doing absolutely nothing. What right do you have to kick me out?” My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that the skin nearly broke. Joshua gently tugged at her sleeve. “Kate, I should just go. I don’t want to be the reason you two fight. I can just stay at a cheap motel, it’s fine.” Kate grabbed his hand, her voice softening into a sickly sweet croon. “Your body is far too weak to stay in some rundown motel.” She turned back to me, her eyes hardening into ice. “Joshua’s current apartment has a terrible mold problem. He is going to stay here with us for a few days, at least until I can find him a suitable luxury rental.” I stood my ground, staring directly into her eyes. “Absolutely not.” My defiance clearly infuriated her. She took a threatening step toward me, radiating oppressive authority. “I wasn’t asking for your permission, Nolan. I was notifying you.” “If you refuse to apologize to Joshua right now, I won’t be coming home for the next few days. You can sit here and reflect on your toxic behavior.” 2 “Do whatever you want.” I looked at her, my voice completely dead. Kate’s face turned a mottled shade of purple. She probably expected me to compromise, to grab her arm and beg her to stay like I used to. But she calculated wrong this time. She ground her teeth, wrapped her arm securely around Joshua’s waist, and marched toward the front door. “You’re going to regret this, Nolan.” The heavy oak door slammed shut, the sheer force of it rattling the walls. The living room fell back into a suffocating, dead silence. I collapsed onto the sofa, my mind instantly drifting back to her pregnancy. That was my child growing inside her, yet she chose to have another man by her side during the ultrasounds. A wave of bitter acid burned my throat. My phone screen lit up on the table. It was a text message. From Joshua. [Nolan, Kate insisted on booking me a suite at the Four Seasons. She said she absolutely refuses to let me suffer.] Attached was a photo taken from behind, showing Kate standing at a marble concierge desk, handing over her platinum credit card. I saved the screenshot to my cloud drive and immediately blocked his number. The next morning, just as I finished a tasteless cup of black coffee, the doorbell rang. It was Kate’s executive assistant, Rachel. “Nolan, Ms. Whitmore sent me to pick up a few things.” Rachel kept her eyes glued to the floor, actively avoiding my gaze. Behind her stood two burly corporate bodyguards. They walked straight past me and headed directly for the climate-controlled storage room. A moment later, they started carrying out the premium reserve tonics and imported truffles my parents had left me before they passed away. I stepped firmly into the hallway, blocking their path. “Who gave you permission to touch those?” Rachel wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Nolan, Ms. Whitmore said Joshua’s body is incredibly fragile and he needs high-end nourishment.” “She mentioned that these items were just gathering dust in here anyway.” I let out a harsh, barking laugh. She wanted to take my deceased parents’ legacy to feed her pathetic little sidepiece? “Put them down. Tell her to come get them herself if she wants them so badly.” The words had barely left my mouth when Kate’s icy voice echoed from the open doorway. “Excuse me? Am I no longer allowed to make decisions about the inventory in my own home?” She was wearing the exact same designer suit from yesterday. She clearly hadn’t come home last night. Kate strode into the foyer, waving her hand to signal the bodyguards to continue carrying the boxes. “Nolan, you can’t possibly consume all of this by yourself.” “Joshua is recovering, and his body needs these exact nutrients.” She walked right up to me, holding out an open palm. “Give me the keys to your loft studio in the South End.” My head snapped up. I stared at her in utter disbelief. That studio was my sanctuary. It was my private creative base where I worked under my secret illustration pseudonym, “Ronin”. Every inch of that space held my blood, sweat, and artistic soul. “Why the hell do you need the keys to my studio?” Kate spoke as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Joshua says the recycled air in the hotel suite is making him claustrophobic. It’s bad for his recovery.” “Your studio has great natural light and a private courtyard. I’m lending it to him for a while.” She paused, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “It’s not like you’re doing anything important there anyway.” “Those messy little sketches of yours don’t bring in a dime. We might as well put the real estate to some practical use.” I stared at her, my blood boiling. “That is my workspace. It’s not a halfway house for your stray trash.” Kate’s eyes darkened instantly. “Watch your mouth, Nolan. Since when did Joshua become trash?” Without warning, she lunged forward and grabbed the canvas tote bag resting on the entryway console. “Give that back!” I lunged to grab it out of her hands. Using her height advantage in heels, she held the bag high out of my reach with one hand. With her other hand, she ruthlessly tipped it upside down, dumping the contents all over the hardwood floor. Keys, my phone, and my hand-drawn conceptual drafts scattered everywhere. My heart skipped a beat. I immediately dropped to my knees to rescue the delicate drafting paper. But Kate was faster. She stepped forward, the sharp stiletto heel of her shoe planting directly in the center of my artwork. She bent down and snatched the keyring holding the studio keys. “You’re an unemployed bum who paints to kill time, and you actually think you’re some kind of tortured artist?” She tossed the keys in the air and caught them, her lips curling into a cruel, satisfied smile. “I’m taking these.” “You better stay out of trouble for the next few days. If you go to the studio and harass Joshua, I’ll make you regret it.” I stared at the crumpled, dirt-stained paper trapped under her heel. It was a commercial piece I had spent three agonizing months perfecting. My chest physically ached, my heart contracting in sharp, jagged spasms. “Kate, if Nolan really doesn’t want me there, we can just forget it.” “I really don’t want to be the wedge that drives your marriage apart.” Joshua’s fragile, breathy voice floated in from the front porch. 3 “Why wouldn’t he want you there? I’m the one paying the lease on that property anyway.” Kate turned her head, her voice melting into absolute honey as she spoke to the man outside. She didn’t even bother to give me a second glance as she turned to leave. I scrambled up from the floor and blocked the doorway. “Give me the keys.” I stared into her eyes, emphasizing every single syllable. Kate scowled, her patience completely evaporated. “Are you psychotic, Nolan? It’s just a dusty old room. Are you seriously going to throw a tantrum over this?” Joshua stood on the porch, looking at me with wide, pitiful eyes. “Nolan, I know you hate me, but I really am sick.” “I just wanted a quiet place to breathe and rest.” “Drop the act,” I snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You know exactly what you’re doing, you parasite.” Joshua’s face went chalk white. He swayed dramatically, stumbling backward two steps as if he had been physically struck. Kate exploded. She shoved me with both hands, her strength fueled by sheer fury. “That is enough!” Her push caught me completely off guard. I lost my footing, stumbling backward. The base of my spine slammed violently into the sharp, solid edge of the heavy oak shoe cabinet. A blinding, agonizing pain ripped through my lower back, shooting down my legs. I gasped, instinctively clutching my spine as my legs gave out. I slid down the wooden cabinet, collapsing onto the floor. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my shirt, sticking to my skin. Kate stood over me, looking down without a single ounce of pity in her eyes. “Stop playing dead. If you want to fake an injury, at least try to make it look convincing.” She grabbed Joshua’s arm, supporting his weight, and walked right out the door. The heavy front door clicked shut once again. I lay curled on the cold floor, the agony in my spine so intense I couldn’t even draw a full breath. My hands shaking violently, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed for an ambulance. Hours later, in a sterile hospital room. The emergency room doctor held up my X-ray scans, his face grim. “Mr. Whitmore, you’ve sustained severe trauma to your lumbar vertebrae.” “You are going to need strict bed rest for the next several days. Absolutely no physical strain, or you risk permanent nerve damage.” I lay flat on the stiff hospital mattress. My mind drifted to the artwork destroyed under her designer heel. Then to the child, my child, growing inside her womb. A hollow, rhythmic pain pulsed in my chest. I lay in that hospital bed for an entire day. By nightfall, the acute, stabbing pain in my back had dulled to a heavy ache. Suddenly, panic set in. I realized my finalized commercial commission, a massive canvas piece, was still sitting on an easel in the South End studio. If Joshua ruined it, the breach of contract penalty would completely bankrupt me. I ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Ignoring the bleeding, I forced myself upright, gritting my teeth against the pain, and hailed a cab to the studio. The front door of the loft was unlocked. I pushed it open, and the sight before me nearly tore my soul apart. Tubes of my imported, custom-mixed oil paints, worth tens of thousands of dollars, had been slashed open and stomped into the floorboards. In the center of the room, Joshua was standing with a pair of heavy fabric shears, carving jagged gashes into my nearly finished masterpiece, The Cosmos. “What the hell are you doing!” I roared, lunging forward and ripping the scissors out of his grip. He shrieked, instantly dropping to the floor. He curled into a ball, clutching his chest and wailing at the top of his lungs. “Ah! My chest! It hurts so much. Nolan, why did you shove me?” The rapid clicking of heels echoed from the hallway. Kate burst into the room. Seeing Joshua writhing on the paint-stained floor, her eyes turned bloodshot. Without asking a single question, she spun around and delivered a brutal, ringing slap across my face. The crack of her palm against my cheek echoed in the empty loft. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. My head snapped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. “You absolute psycho! You know how weak his heart is, how could you be so vicious?” I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, pointing a trembling finger at the shredded canvas on the easel. “He destroyed my life’s work! He is playing you for a total fool!” “Why are you defending him? You didn’t even ask what happened before you hit me!” Kate didn’t even glance at the ruined painting. She dropped to her knees, carefully gathering Joshua into her arms. “Are a few sheets of trash paper more important than a human life?” “I am warning you right now. If Joshua’s condition worsens, I will make you pay with your life.” She practically carried him out of the room, rushing down the stairs. I slumped against the wall of my ruined sanctuary, surrounded by the wreckage of my art. My phone buzzed in my pocket. The caller ID showed Kate’s name. I pressed answer. “Nolan, you terrified Joshua today. His heart rate is highly irregular.” “He’s hooked up to an IV right now. You better drag yourself down here and apologize to him on your hands and knees.” 4 “My spine is injured. I can’t make it.” My knuckles were white as I gripped a torn shred of my canvas. My voice trembled with exhaustion. A sharp, mocking scoff echoed through the phone speaker. “Your spine? Nolan, if you’re going to lie to get out of trouble, at least invent something creative.” “Tonight is the Whitmore Group’s annual anniversary gala. Even if you have to crawl on your hands and knees, you will show up.” She paused, her tone dropping into a sinister, icy threat. “The tabloids are already spinning rumors that our marriage is falling apart. If you don’t show up tonight to play the loving husband and save our stock prices.” “Tomorrow morning, I will permanently cancel the maintenance funds for your parents’ cemetery plot.” My fist clenched so hard my fingernails drew blood. My parents were buried in the most exclusive, expensive memorial park in the city. It was the ultimate leverage she had over me, and she knew exactly how to use it. “Send the address,” I ground out between clenched teeth. An hour later. Wearing a loose-fitting black suit to hide my stiff posture, I walked into the grand ballroom of a luxury downtown hotel. My face was pale, my movements slow and calculated. The ballroom was an ocean of designer gowns, champagne flutes, and blinding camera flashes. Kate was wearing a breathtaking custom haute couture gown, radiant and glowing as she mingled with corporate elites. And standing right beside her, wearing a bespoke tuxedo and a sickeningly smug smile, was Joshua. Gleaming on his wrist was a limited edition luxury watch. The exact watch Kate had gifted me for my birthday last year. I stared at the scene, the nausea churning violently in my stomach. Kate spotted me from across the room. Her smile faltered, and she marched over, her brow heavily furrowed. “You look like you’re attending a funeral. Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me?” She hissed the warning under her breath. I ignored her completely, walking straight past her to sit at an empty table in the corner. The throbbing pain in my lumbar spine was intensifying by the minute. I needed to conserve every ounce of energy just to stay upright. The host took the stage, tapping the microphone and inviting Kate up to give the keynote address. Kate stood bathed in the spotlight, pulling Joshua up to stand right beside her. “Tonight, as we celebrate the anniversary of the Whitmore Group, I have a very special announcement to make.” Her voice boomed through the high-end sound system, commanding the room. “Mr. Joshua here will officially be joining the Whitmore Group as our new Executive Art Director.” “Furthermore, he will be the sole creative force behind the highly anticipated ‘Cosmos’ illustration exhibition opening next month in the city center.” The ballroom erupted into thunderous applause. I sat frozen in my chair, feeling as if a lightning bolt had struck me directly in the chest. That was my exhibition. I had spent six grueling months planning it. She hadn’t just shredded my original drafts. She had taken my blood, sweat, and tears, and slapped her lover’s name on all of it. I slammed my hands onto the table, forcing myself to stand. I shoved my chair back and marched toward the stage. “Kate, what gives you the right to hand my life’s work over to him?” I pointed directly at the two of them, my voice shaking with pure, unadulterated rage. The applause died instantly. Every single eye in the ballroom snapped toward me. Joshua immediately shrank behind Kate’s back, his eyes widening in performed terror. “Nolan, what are you talking about? I painted every single piece for that exhibition with my own two hands.” Kate’s face turned completely purple. She glared at the security detail standing near the stage. “Are you idiots deaf? Drag this lunatic out of here right now!” Four massive security guards in black suits rushed forward. Two of them grabbed my arms, twisting them painfully behind my back. “Let go of me!” I thrashed wildly against their grip. Kate walked down the steps of the stage, stopping inches from my face. “Nolan, are you so consumed by jealousy that you’ve lost your mind?” “You are a useless leech who can barely hold a paintbrush straight. You honestly expect these people to believe you created art of that caliber?” She looked down at me, her eyes filled with absolute venom and disgust. “Get on your knees and apologize to Joshua this instant. If you refuse, I promise you won’t walk out of here tonight.” The surrounding guests began to whisper, the gossip spreading like wildfire. “Mr. Whitmore is acting like a hysterical madman.” “I heard he’s incredibly paranoid. He attacks any young artist Ms. Whitmore decides to sponsor out of pure jealousy.” The guards shoved my shoulders down, kicking the backs of my knees to force me to the floor. The violent downward pressure triggered an explosive, blinding agony in my injured spine. My vision whited out, my consciousness slipping away. I squeezed my eyes shut in total despair. Just as my knees were about to hit the cold marble floor. The heavy double doors of the ballroom were violently kicked open with a deafening crash. A low, glacial female voice sliced through the silence of the room. “Whoever dares to touch him will lose their hands tonight.”

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1 As the top search-and-rescue diver in the country, I was used to high-stakes calls, but the one that came in on a rainy Tuesday morning made my blood run cold. A ten-year-old boy had gone missing at Savage Cove—the same place where my little sister, Grecia, drowned ten years ago. Back then, Nora, my girlfriend and captain of the rescue squad, promised she’d bring Grecia back safe. Instead, she cut my sister’s safety line to hand the rescue credit to her partner, Victor. Grecia was swept into the abyss. Victor became a national hero, while I spent the next decade diving into the dark more than two hundred times, pulling 193 people back to life. I mapped Savage Cove’s deadly depths until I knew every current—so no one else would be left waiting in the dark. But today, when dispatch sent the missing child’s photo, I froze. Behind him stood the boy’s mother. Her face was one I would never forget. I turned the phone face down on the desk. “I’m not taking this dive.” “Sean, you’ve got to be kidding me, right?” The dispatcher laughed, assuming it was a joke. “Last year during the peak flood season, you dove forty meters into near-zero visibility mud to pull a trapped kid out of a shipwreck. You hold the active recovery record. If you say you can’t do it, nobody else in this country can.” “I’m not joking,” I replied. “Sean…” “I’m serious. I can’t take this. Coordinate with another team. Don’t waste any more time.” I hung up. But before I could zip my gear bag, the door slammed open. Chief Harrison practically fell into the room, drenched in sweat. “Sean,” he panted, gripping the doorframe to steady his breathing. “Don’t leave yet. Just hear me out.” “Chief, there’s nothing to discuss.” “The conditions at Savage Cove are a nightmare,” Harrison urged, shutting the door behind him and blocking it with his body. “Our regular guys have been down there for two hours. Three rotation teams, and they haven’t found a single trace.” He lowered his voice, stepping closer. “The boy who went under is Victor’s son. Yes, that Victor, the owner of the biggest commercial diving firm in the state. His wife is Nora, the former rescue captain. If it weren’t for their massive donations over the years, we wouldn’t even have half of this high-tech equipment.” “Then use the equipment to find him,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “If the gear is so advanced, you don’t need me.” Harrison lunged forward, grabbing my arm with white-knuckled desperation. “We tried! The sonar can’t see past the blind spots in the underwater crevices. We need eyes down there. We need hands. Sean, I wouldn’t swallow my pride to beg you if there were any other way.” I remained silent. Harrison stomped his foot in frustration. “Are you worried about safety? I know Savage Cove is a death trap, but I swear to you, we have the best support on the shore. Dry suits, backup tanks, comms, whatever you want. I will guarantee your life with my own!” “It’s not a safety issue, Chief.” “Then what is it?” “Personal reasons.” “Personal reasons?” His voice cracked, rising in pitch. “Sean, there is a ten-year-old boy suffocating at the bottom of a river, and you’re telling me about personal reasons?” By now, the news of my refusal had leaked. Several rescue team members gathered outside the open door, whispering. “Sean, you’re the backbone of this team,” one of them called out. “If you won’t go, who will?” “Some hero he is,” another muttered, loud enough for me to hear. “Just a coward who’s afraid of a little current.” The insults started to pile up. I kept my face blank and checked my watch. “Chief, you just wasted another five minutes. I’m not taking the job. Call someone else. Time is running out.” I brushed past him, but a voice from the back of the crowd cut through the tension. “Your sister died in Savage Cove, didn’t she, Sean? Is that why you’re being so heartless? You’re just going to let a kid die?” I went rigid. My heart felt as though it were being squeezed by a freezing hand. My phone screen lit up on the desk behind me. The ten-year-old boy in the photo had a bright, gap-toothed smile. He was the exact same age my sister had been when she died. I closed my eyes. If Nora hadn’t unclipped her line ten years ago, would my sister be alive today? A sudden commotion at the entrance broke my thoughts. A man in a sharp, tailored suit strode through the crowd. He didn’t even look me in the eye. Instead, he snapped open his wallet and began throwing thick stacks of cash at my chest. “What do you mean, you won’t dive?” he sneered. “You want money? Here. Name your price.” Victor turned to Chief Harrison, his lip curled in disgust. “This is the savior you insisted on? Some legendary rescue diver? He’s nothing but a mercenary holding a dying child hostage to inflate his fee.” He stepped closer to me, pulling out his phone. “Still not enough? I can wire you a hundred thousand right now. Five hundred thousand? Name it. Just get my son out.” The onlookers gasped at the sheer amount of money being thrown around. I didn’t move. My eyes were locked on the silver service medal pinned to his lapel. Ten years. He was still wearing the honor he had bought with my sister’s life. Seeing where I was looking, Victor let out a cold, mocking laugh. “What? Jealous? I’m not like you, mercenary. I earned this medal with my life.” He puffed out his chest, playing the martyr for the crowd. “Ten years ago, right here in Savage Cove, the visibility was practically zero. My wife and I didn’t hesitate for a second. We dove straight in. Unlike some cowards who sit on the shore and bargain with a child’s life.” I stared at him, my throat tight. “Did you save her?” Victor’s smug grin faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered. “In those conditions, no one could guarantee a miracle…” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “So, you didn’t save her.” “I am indeed different from you,” I said, stepping closer to force him to look at me. He had clearly forgotten my face, forgotten the broken brother who had stood on the shore ten years ago. “I don’t dive unless I am absolutely sure. And I never give a grieving family false hope, only to drag them into a deeper despair.” Flustered and angry, Victor grabbed me by the collar. “Who cares if we couldn’t save her? At least we didn’t hide like cowards! You won’t even wet your feet. What right do you have to judge me?” The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, turning hostile. “He’s right. At least Victor tried ten years ago. Sean is just a greedy coward.” Their judgmental eyes stung like needles. They thought I was selfish, cold, and demanding a payout. I didn’t care to explain. Then, a woman stumbled through the doorway. Her hair was a messy nest, and her expensive makeup was smeared with tears. Ten years had passed, but her face was still instantly recognizable. The woman who had promised to bring my sister back, only to push her into the abyss, was standing right in front of me. My fists clenched so hard my fingernails bit into my palms. She didn’t look at my face. She shoved Victor back and threw herself toward me. “Please,” she sobbed, grabbing my hand. “The Chief says you’re our last hope. I don’t know you, but I trust you. My baby is down there. He’s only ten. He’s terrified of the dark. He can’t sleep without hearing my voice.” Her tears fell onto my shoes. “If you go down, I’ll give you anything. Whatever you want. Just save my boy.” I took a slow, deep breath, feeling the decades of suppressed rage boiling in my chest. If they knew the real price of this rescue, would they still ask for it? “I will go to the site,” I said quietly. Nora gasped with relief, squeezing my hand. “Thank God! Thank you, Mr… Mr. Shaw? Whatever your name is, my husband and I will never forget this.” “Don’t misunderstand,” I interrupted, pulling my hand away. “I agreed to go to the site. I didn’t say I would dive.” 2 Ten years later, I stood on the banks of Savage Cove once more. The shore was packed with state-of-the-art equipment. High-powered sonar scanners, massive underwater floodlights, three top-tier rescue boats idling in the water. A dozen experts hovered over a folding table, analyzing underwater topographical maps. “This is Victor’s son,” one coordinator shouted. “Spare no expense! Get him up!” Standing on the periphery, a bitter taste filled my mouth. Ten years ago, my sister had slipped into these exact same waters. Back then, there was only one cheap inflatable dinghy, a couple of standard nylon ropes, and Nora’s empty promise. But today, because the boy in the water belonged to a wealthy, influential family, an entire command center appeared within two hours. What was my sister’s life to them? A stepping stone. A sacrifice to polish their public image and pave the way for their lucrative diving empire. Even though they had only brought back a cold, lifeless body, they still wore the crowns of heroes, using that fake glory to build an empire. A technician rushed over to the Chief, his face pale. “Based on the water pressure and the boy’s tank capacity, the survival window is down to twenty minutes. His oxygen is almost gone. If we don’t get a diver down there right now, he’s dead.” “Sean, please,” Harrison urged. “You’re already here. Put on the gear.” I shook my head. “You have the most advanced sonar in the state, a top-tier medical team, and a dozen specialists. Besides, the boy’s parents are decorated rescue heroes from these exact waters. Why should I be the one to go down?” Nora flinched, not expecting me to bring up the past. Her lips trembled as she looked up at me. “Yes, we went down back then, but we were injured in that rescue! We retired to administrative roles years ago. Our physical condition isn’t up to a deep-dive recovery anymore!” Perhaps driven by a guilty conscience, she suddenly fell to her knees. Her knees hit the gravel with a sickening thud. “Mr. Shaw, I beg you! I admit we aren’t as good as you. We don’t deserve the hero titles. But my son is innocent! Please, if you go down, I’ll do anything. I’ll admit whatever you want!” She began to desperately knock her forehead against the rocky ground, bruising her skin. “Please! Save my son!” Her agonizing cries ignited the anger of the crowd around us. “Sean! Are you even human? How can you torture a grieving mother like this?” “You’re disgusting! She’s on her knees, and you’re still playing games!” A couple of angry young divers lunged forward, grabbing my arms and shoving me toward the water’s edge. “You’re going down today, whether you like it or not!” The waves of hostility pressed in from all sides. I let out a raspy, dry laugh. “You all want me to dive that badly?” I looked at Victor, then at Nora. “But even if I go down, even if I find your boy… how do you know I won’t just unclip his safety line and let him drift away?” “What did you just say?” Victor’s face contorted with rage. He yanked out his phone and made a rapid call. Within minutes, a flock of local reporters who had been waiting nearby rushed past the barricades, pointing cameras and microphones at us. Victor stood before the lenses, squeezing out tears of outrage. “I didn’t want to make this a public spectacle, but my son has been trapped underwater for over two hours. His oxygen will run out in ten minutes. And yet, this man, who claims to be the best rescue diver in the country, refuses to save him.” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “I offered him money. My wife fell to her knees to beg him. We’ve done everything. My son is dying, and this man is using a child’s life to settle a personal grudge. Does a monster like this deserve to be called a savior?” The live feed exploded. Online headlines began flashing: Top Rescue Diver Refuses to Save Drowning Ten-Year-Old. The comments sections flooded with venom, calling for my head. Losing his mind, Victor lunged forward, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me toward the river’s edge. Taken off guard, I lost my footing. He shoved my head violently down into the freezing water. The biting cold rushed into my nose, my eyes, and my ears. The crushing pressure of the river seized my skull, and a familiar, terrifying suffocation washed over me. I closed my eyes. The memory of ten years ago rushed back. I remembered standing on this very shore, watching Nora and Victor climb out of the water, packing up their gear to leave. I had fallen to my knees, begging them. “Nora, please, she’s only ten! Just try one more time! Please!” And she had looked at me with cold, distant eyes. “I’m sorry, Sean. We did our best. The current is too strong. A layman like you wouldn’t understand the danger down there. We’re lucky to have made it out alive ourselves.” My sister must have felt this exact same terror. The water filling her lungs, believing she was saved, only to be cast back into the dark. Just as my vision began to fade into black, Victor yanked me out of the water by my hair. I collapsed onto the mud, coughing violently, my lungs burning. My ears buzzed with the sound of rushing water, but Victor’s triumphant sneer cut through the noise. “How does it feel to almost drown?” he hissed. “My son is feeling that every single second! And you stand here doing nothing!” No one in the crowd showed a shred of sympathy. “Serves him right! If he had just done his job, Victor wouldn’t have had to do that.” “He had it coming.” I wiped the remaining water from my eyes, staring at the couple through a blurred, bloodshot gaze. “You want to know why I won’t go down?” I rasped, my voice dripping with venom. “Because I’m afraid.” “I’m afraid that if I go down there, I’ll become just like you.” Victor’s face lost all color. “Ten years ago, in these exact waters,” I said, rising slowly to my feet. “You found her. But on the way to the surface, you unclipped her safety line.” Nora gasped, her body violently trembling as she stared at me. “You… you’re… Sean?”

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Fiscal year-end: I’d landed the company’s six biggest accounts, expecting a 900,000commission.Myphonebuzzed—depositreceived:900.00. I stormed to accounting. The manager wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Ariana rerouted your entire commission to Stephen’s account,” she whispered. Stephen, Ariana’s ex, joined three months ago and never made a single cold call. Yet at the annual gala, Ariana handed him the “Sales Executive of the Year” trophy. Passing my table, he smirked, “Don’t worry, man—you’ll get it next year.” Two hundred guests held their breath. I sipped my water, then linked my phone to the projector. The giant LED lit up with six scanned contracts—my signatures, corporate seals, exact figures, dates. Silence choked the room. Champagne spilled from Ariana’s glass onto her dress. I grabbed a mic. “Ariana, care to explain to everyone here how Stephen closed these six accounts?” “Marc, do you really have to make a scene and embarrass everyone tonight?” Ariana slammed her glass onto the table. The sharp crack of shattering glass was deafening in the dead quiet room. She marched up the stage in her heels, her face flushed with fury, and snatched the microphone right out of my hand. I stood my ground, my eyes calmly meeting her enraged glare. “I am simply asking a professional question, boss.” I pointed at the glowing screen behind her. “From the initial cold outreach and needs assessment, all the way to the pitch and the final hard close, I ran those six contracts entirely on my own.” “Your boy Stephen doesn’t even know where our clients’ headquarters are located. Doesn’t that trophy burn his hands?” The whispers in the crowd were finally bubbling up. Stephen did not look ashamed in the slightest. Instead, he let out a mocking scoff, tossing my crystal trophy up and catching it with one hand. He tilted his chin up. “Look, I know you’ve always had a chip on your shoulder about me.” His voice dripped with provocation. “But you can’t just erase my hard work in front of everyone. Closing deals isn’t just about blue-collar grunt work.” I almost laughed out loud. “Your hard work? You mean grinding reps at the gym during office hours? Or was it the grueling effort of picking out a Rolex on company time?” “Marc! That is enough!” Ariana took a step forward, shielding Stephen behind her like a fiercely protective mother. “Clients are company resources. They are not your personal property!” She pointed at the screen, her tone dripping with self-righteousness. “Yes, you did the initial legwork. But the backend data analysis, the risk assessment, the ongoing relationship management… Stephen handled all of that.” I stared into Ariana’s eyes. The woman standing in front of me felt terrifyingly like a stranger. Three years ago, we built this startup from the ground up in a dingy garage. Back then, she held my hands and promised that half of this empire would belong to me. Now that the company was pulling in real money, she shoved her ex-boyfriend into the ranks and robbed me of the very deals I bled for. “Data analysis?” I looked at her with pure ice. “Ariana, are you insulting my intelligence, or the intelligence of everyone in this room?” “Those six clients are undergoing supply chain upgrades for heavy manufacturing. They don’t need risk assessments from a guy who doesn’t even know how to write a basic Excel formula!” “Shut your mouth!” Ariana was completely unhinged now. She whipped her head around and screamed at the tech guy at the soundboard. “What are you staring at! Cut the projector! Now!” The screen went pitch black. The ballroom dimmed, leaving only the harsh spotlights hitting Ariana and Stephen. Stephen gave an arrogant shrug and shoved the trophy toward my chest, his tone sickeningly sweet. “Babe, don’t fight with him over me. If he is that desperate for a piece of glass, I’ll just give it to him. It’s not a big deal.” Ariana grabbed his wrist and pushed the trophy firmly back into his chest. “No one is taking away the honor you earned.” She turned around, looking down at me with absolute cruelty and disgust. “Marc, you are arrogant, you destroy team morale, and you publicly slander your colleagues.” “Effective immediately, you are suspended.” The crowd gasped. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Ariana, you are throwing away the entire foundation of this company for a guy who acts like a parasite?” “This is my company. I set the foundation.” She spat the words out like venom. “Pack your desk. Don’t bother coming in tomorrow.” I took a deep breath, watching her turn her back on me. “I really hope you don’t regret this, Ariana.” She stopped in her tracks but didn’t bother to look back. “Security, escort Marc out.” “Hey man, I packed up your cubicle for you. Figured I’d save you the trip tomorrow.” The next morning, the second I stepped into the sales floor, Stephen called out to me. He was lounging on the leather sofa, legs crossed. At his feet sat a beaten-up cardboard box. Inside were my coffee mug, a neck pillow, and some crumpled scratch paper, all tossed in like garbage. I didn’t touch the box. Looking past his shoulder, I saw my office. My desk had been wiped completely clean. Sitting right where my monitor used to be was his limited-edition Patek Philippe watch and a shiny new Porsche key. “Who gave you permission to touch my things?” I didn’t yell, but the frantic clicking of keyboards across the entire sales floor instantly died. Stephen smirked, standing up to adjust the collar of his tailored suit. “Ariana told me to move in. She said the Director of Sales office shouldn’t sit empty, so she asked me to manage the team for a few days.” He leaned heavily on the title, his face swollen with pride. I let out a cold laugh. “Manage the team? You don’t even have the admin password to the CRM system. What exactly are you managing? How they book your golf times?” Stephen’s face twitched, but he quickly recovered that smug, punchable look. “Look, I know you’re bitter.” He lowered his voice, leaning in. “But Ariana said it herself. Your era is over. The company needs big-picture thinkers now, not just some meathead who only knows how to charge forward.” I didn’t have the patience to entertain his delusions. I walked straight toward my computer. “Move. I need to back up my personal files.” Stephen suddenly shot his arm out, blocking the monitor. “No can do! Boss gave strict orders. Every piece of client data on this hard drive is company property. You are not taking a single byte out of this building.” Looking at his obnoxious face, I felt the anger rising from the pit of my stomach. “Get this through your thick skull. I hunted down those accounts one by one. Apex Solutions had absolutely nothing to do with it.” “Whether they belong to Apex is not for you to decide.” Ariana’s voice drifted over from behind. She was wearing a razor-sharp business suit, casually sipping an espresso as she strolled over. “Your suspension notice went out to the entire company last night, Marc. You are no longer an active employee.” She stopped next to Stephen and naturally looped her arm through his. “You do not have clearance to touch company hardware.” Seeing her arm wrapped around him felt like a physical eyesore. “You are holding my personal hard drive hostage?” “It is standard protocol to prevent corporate espionage.” She took a sip of her coffee, her tone completely robotic. “As for those accounts, Stephen has already taken over. He is much more diplomatic than you. He is better suited for long-term relationship building.” The sheer audacity made me laugh. “Him? The guy doesn’t even know the difference between gross margin and net revenue. You are sending him to deal with industry sharks?” Ariana frowned, clearly annoyed by my lack of submission. “That is none of your concern. Security is waiting for you by the elevators.” I took a deep breath, swallowing the urge to smash that monitor over his head. As I turned to leave, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was the company-wide chat. Stephen had just uploaded a screenshot of a bank transfer. Amount: $900,000.00. He made sure to tag my name underneath it. “Thanks for laying the groundwork, man! Your clients are taking really good care of me.” I stood by the elevator, staring at the glaring nine hundred grand on my screen. Ariana’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Without this company, you are nothing, Marc.” “I’m so sorry, your keycard has been deactivated.” Ben, the kid at the front desk, kept his head down. He was too scared to look at me. I stood outside the glass doors of Apex Solutions, gripping my dead ID badge. It had been three days since the suspension. For three days, I tried calling my six core clients. Their lines were either dead, or their assistants gave me polite, scripted brush-offs. It wasn’t until last night that a buddy from a rival firm forwarded me an internal industry memo. Ariana had sent it out under the company’s letterhead. The memo heavily implied that I was under investigation for “severe ethical violations” and warned all partners to cease contact with me. She was trying to salt the earth so nothing would ever grow for me again. I only came back today for one thing. “Ben, I just need to grab one personal item. I will be in and out.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “I… I can’t. Ariana was very clear.” Ben looked like he was about to cry. “Let him in.” The glass doors pushed open from the inside. Stephen strutted out in a flashy burgundy blazer and custom loafers. He looked me up and down, unable to hide his absolute glee. “Well well. Rough few days, huh? You look like garbage.” I ignored him and stepped forward to walk inside. “Hold it.” Stephen threw his arm across the doorway. “You think this is a public park? You can just waltz in whenever you want?” He turned back to the reception desk and pulled a small velvet box from the drawer. It was a vintage Parker fountain pen. A gift from Robert, the veteran who taught me the ropes my first year in the trenches. I always kept it locked in the deepest part of my desk. “This what you’re looking for?” Stephen tossed the box lightly in his hand, a malicious smirk spreading across his face. “Want it?” “Give it back.” My voice dropped to absolute zero. “Sure thing.” Stephen’s smile widened. He suddenly opened his fingers. Clack. The velvet box hit the hard marble floor. The fountain pen spilled out, rolling across the stone. Instead of picking it up, Stephen took a deliberate step forward. His heavy, expensive loafer came down hard right on the gold nib. “Oops. Butterfingers.” He blew a carefree whistle, his eyes dancing with cruel amusement. “My bad, man. It’s just a cheap piece of junk anyway. I’ll have Ariana buy you ten new ones.” I stared at the crushed metal on the floor. Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head. I lunged forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his stupid blazer. “What are you doing!” Ariana materialized out of nowhere, grabbing my wrist and shoving me backward with all her strength. I stumbled back, my shoulders hitting the glass door with a heavy thud. I stared dead at Ariana. My eyes felt like they were bleeding ice. Stephen instinctively flinched behind her, but realizing his sugar mama was there, he puffed his chest back out. “Did you see that? He tried to assault me.” Stephen leaned into her shoulder, playing the victim perfectly. “I accidentally dropped his pen and he completely lost his mind.” Ariana looked at him with tender concern before whipping her head around to glare at me. “You are acting like an absolute psycho!” “That was my mentor’s last gift before he died.” I pointed at the mangled pen, my voice shaking with pure rage. “It’s just a pen! Are you really throwing a tantrum in the lobby over a pen?” She crossed her arms, thoroughly disgusted. “I am warning you. Apologize to Stephen right now. Or you can kiss your final paycheck and your severance goodbye.” I looked at the woman who once swore we would conquer the corporate world together. To impress her new toy, she had stolen my blood, my sweat, and now she was trying to stomp on my dignity. I slowly crouched down, picked up the broken pieces of the Parker pen, and gripped them tightly in my fist. The sharp metal pierced my skin, but I couldn’t feel the pain. “Ariana. I promise you, you are going to pay for this.” I stood up, staring directly into her soul. She let out a dismissive scoff. “Pay for what? With what leverage? Listen to me very carefully. Tomorrow morning is the all-hands meeting. You will show up, sign your termination papers, and apologize to Stephen in front of the entire staff.” “And if I don’t?” “Then I will make sure every firm in this city knows that Marc is a corporate thief.” The all-hands meeting was held in the largest boardroom. Over two hundred employees were packed inside. You could hear a pin drop. When I pushed the doors open, every single pair of eyes stabbed into me. Some looked pitying, some mocking, but most just had the cold indifference of people watching a car crash. Ariana sat at the head of the massive table. Stephen sat right next to her, occupying my former seat as Vice President. “You’re three minutes late.” Ariana tapped her pen against the mahogany wood, her tone frosty. I pulled out a chair in the very back row and sat down, not even bothering to look at her. “Hand over the papers. I have places to be.” Her face darkened. She shot a glance at Stephen. He immediately stood up, holding a thick stack of documents. He looked like a king addressing his peasants. “Everyone, we called this meeting to address two items.” Stephen cleared his throat, projecting his voice loudly. “First. Due to severe policy violations, including hoarding client resources for personal gain and creating a hostile work environment…” He paused, flashing a brilliant, victorious smile at me. “The board has decided to officially terminate Marc’s employment. We reserve the right to pursue further legal action.” A collective, muffled gasp rippled through the room. Getting fired versus getting laid off was the difference between life and death on a resume. Ariana was trying to execute my career on live television. “Second item.” Stephen’s smile grew even wider. “The six major accounts I recently inherited have all cleared their first-phase deposits. This proves that once we cut out the dead weight, this company operates smoother than ever!” He started clapping. A few brown-nosing department managers quickly joined in, and soon a pathetic, scattered applause echoed through the room. I sat in the corner, watching this absurd circus. It was actually hilarious. “First-phase deposits?” I spoke up, cutting right through their little victory parade. “Did you even bother to read the contract terms? Those deposits are strictly automated. They trigger three days after the ink dries, no matter who is holding the account.” I stood up and slowly walked toward the front of the room. “The real crisis you need to manage is the phase-two API integration testing. Do you even know what an industrial PLC protocol is? Can you even spell ‘backend redundancy’?” Stephen’s face froze. He instinctively glanced at Ariana, but his ego wouldn’t let him back down. “Stop trying to scare people with your tech jargon! I will have the IT guys handle the technical details!” “Marc! You are fired! You do not get to dictate company strategy anymore!” Ariana slammed her hands on the table and stood up. “Whether Stephen can handle it or not is my problem. You will sign this termination notice right now and get out of my building!” She grabbed a folder and violently slid it across the table toward me. “I’m not signing garbage.” I looked at her, enunciating every syllable. “You have zero proof of any violation. This is wrongful termination.” “Proof?” Ariana sneered. “I am the CEO. My word is the proof.” She pointed a shaking finger at the heavy oak doors, the veins popping in her neck. “Security! Drag him out of here! I am officially terminating Marc right now!” Just then.

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When I awakened my Riftweaver class, I became a god in this nightmare of a survival game. I could tear through the fabric of reality, slipping in and out of the most lethal, high-tier raids as if I were taking a walk in the park. Naturally, whenever a raid team got completely wiped and trapped, I was the first person they called for a rescue. And being the pragmatist that I am, I hung a massive neon sign in the Nexus Hub. My price? One thousand Credits per extraction. I made an absolute killing. After casually ripping open a portal to drag a few half-dead nobodies out of a death zone, a brand new player suddenly pointed her finger at my face and started screaming. “Are you serious? You just casually open a door and demand a thousand Credits? Talk about bloodsucking greed!” She turned to the crowd, puffing out her chest. “If any veteran players need a rescue, you can call me! I am also a Spatial class.” “I don’t need your Credits. We are all players trapped in this hellhole. Helping each other is just basic human decency!” Watching the major guilds, the very same people I had bled to save time and time again, flock to this shiny new saint, I smiled so hard my cheeks ached. Little did they know, the staggering fortune sitting in my bank account was already enough for me to live like royalty for the rest of my life. I could finally retire. 1 Thud. My arms burned with exhaustion as I hurled the last player out of the distorted, crackling void rift. His tactical armor was shredded into metallic confetti. A gruesome claw mark, deep enough to scrape bone, ran across his chest, sizzling with toxic black mist. I took a slow, deep breath, stabilizing the heavily depleted spatial energy in my core. “That makes four of you. Invoices have been sent to your HUDs. One thousand Credits each. Settle up.” I wiped a streak of someone else’s blood off my cheek, leaning lazily against a glowing obsidian pillar. Before the survivors could even catch their breath, a shrill, drippingly righteous voice echoed across the crowded Hub. “A thousand Credits? That is pure extortion!” I cracked one eye open. The voice belonged to a girl in a pristine white sundress. She was young, sporting one of those incredibly innocent, harmless faces. Right now, she was biting her lower lip, pointing a trembling finger at me with a look of absolute disgust. “Look at them! They are half dead, and you are taking advantage of their trauma! Do you have a shred of empathy?” I let out a dry laugh, tossing a heavy silver coin in the air and catching it. “And who the hell are you, sweetheart?” “I risked half my life dragging them out of an SSS-Tier death trap. A thousand is market rate. Do you think opening dimension rifts runs on hopes and prayers? You think stabilization anchors are free? If it is too expensive, next time, you can rot in the abyss.” “We are all human beings! We should be looking out for each other. Demanding money just ruins the solidarity.” The girl in the white dress took a bold step forward, spreading her arms to shield the groaning casualties behind her. “You clearly have a spatial gift. You can save lives with the snap of your fingers, yet you bleed your own people dry. You are a monster!” A crowd was forming. Among the onlookers, I spotted several familiar faces. People whose lives I had saved. They were shifting uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze, and whispering among themselves. “Honestly… a thousand is pretty steep. I only cleared eight hundred on my last raid.” “Right? Val charged us the same rate back then. It drained everything we had, but we were too scared to complain.” “She could just help out. Why does she have to be so corporate about human lives?” I stared coldly at this gallery of hypocrites. These were the exact same people who had once crawled on their hands and knees, begging me to save them. The loudest whisperer was Gideon, the leader of a top-tier guild known as The Vipers. He had hired me multiple times. He stepped to the front of the crowd, casually spinning a heavy obsidian ring on his thumb. “Val, the rookie has a point. A thousand Credits is an outrageous premium. We put our lives on the line for every single Credit we earn. We shouldn’t be treated like walking ATMs.” Seeing a major guild leader back her up, a flash of pure triumph crossed the white dress girl’s eyes. “Since Val treats human life like a business transaction, I suggest we stop giving her our hard-earned money! Let me introduce myself. I am Daisy, and I awakened a Spatial class today too.” “Starting right now, I am forming the Player Vanguard Alliance! If anyone needs an emergency extraction, I will do it absolutely free! I will not take a single Credit from you!” The Hub went dead silent for a fraction of a second. Then, the entire hall erupted into deafening cheers and applause. “Free! Oh my god, Daisy is an actual angel!” “Exactly! Not like some people who are infected with the rot of greed!” I looked at the furious, self-righteous mob, and then at Daisy’s face, which was practically glowing with vanity and desperate ambition. I dusted off my gloves and glanced down at the four bleeding men still groaning on the floor. “So, is that how you guys feel too?” 2 The four men wouldn’t look at me. Some stared at the marble tiles, others clutched their wounds and whined, but none dared to meet my eyes. “Look, Val… we are in pretty bad shape. Medical supplies are going to cost us a fortune…” One of them, a bulky guy nicknamed Jax, mumbled, his voice shrinking like a coward. “Stop right there.” I tapped the holographic screen on my wrist. “You signed a soul contract before I went in. Two hundred Credit deposit, eight hundred upon delivery. Pay up. Stop wasting my time.” “Oh please, Val! We were all dragged into this nightmare game from the real world. Why do you have to push them to the brink?” Daisy bit her lip again, keeping her arms wide as if protecting them from a dragon. Her big, doe eyes were full of judgment. “It is hard enough out here. How about this? I will make the call for them. They will each give you a five hundred Credit tip. You hardly used any energy opening that door anyway. Just treat it as your good deed for the week.” The surrounding crowd nodded vigorously, murmuring about how Daisy’s compromise was perfectly reasonable. I actually laughed out loud. “You will make the call for them? Who made you queen of the slums? It is incredibly easy to be a saint when you are spending someone else’s money.” I locked eyes with Daisy, my voice dropping to absolute zero. “I have heard of paying debts with gratitude. I have never heard of demanding the rescuer eat the cost of energy and lifelines. What, is my life not worth anything? Does my mana just fall from the sky?” “Valerie, watch your mouth!” Gideon intervened, his face darkening to play the hero. “Daisy is looking out for the community. Don’t burn your bridges. We are all stuck in this game together. You do not want to make enemies out of everyone.” “Enemies?” I let out a sharp sneer. I raised my hand and clenched my fingers violently in the empty air. A sickening tearing sound echoed through the Hub. A jagged, pitch-black rift ripped open right behind me. A howling, freezing gale blasted out from the void, carrying the blood-curdling screeches of the abyssal horrors lurking on the other side. It was the exact SSS-Tier death zone they had just escaped from. The color instantly drained from the faces of the four survivors on the floor. They scrambled backward in sheer terror. “Don’t want to pay the balance? No problem.” I pointed at the swirling vortex of destruction. “Your two hundred deposit only covered the trip from the boss room to this exact spot. Since the balance is too steep, I will offer premium customer service and put you right back where I found you.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Daisy shrieked, tears instantly spilling down her cheeks on command. “How can you be so barbaric!” “Barbaric?” I took a step forward, my amber eyes drilling into hers. “Sweetheart, isn’t your free rescue alliance supposed to be top tier? I really don’t mind throwing you in there with them. You can give everyone a live demonstration of how a free extraction works.” The violent winds from the rift whipped Daisy’s pristine dress around. Staring into a void that looked ready to devour the world, all the blood vanished from her face. Without her shielding them, the four men completely lost their nerve. “I’ll transfer it! I’m paying right now!” “Val, don’t do it! Please close the door!” Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Four crisp chimes rang out from my system interface. Seeing the additional three thousand two hundred Credits hit my account, I clapped my hands together. The terrifying rift snapped shut in an instant. “Pleasure doing business with you.” I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to waste another glance at the pathetic lot, and turned toward the VIP lounge area. The trust was gone. This business was dead. I had saved up more than enough anyway. It was time to wash my hands of this mess and enjoy a very early retirement. But before my boot could even cross the threshold of the lounge, the system bracelet clamped to my wrist began vibrating violently. A blood-red notification forced its way onto my retina display. [Alert: Player ‘Valerie’ has triggered the Weekly Mandatory Raid requirement. The System is now matching you with a party…] I frowned. I was planning to just breeze through a low-tier zone for this week’s quota. Why the hell was it forcing a match? A split second later, the roster of my new teammates materialized. Slot one: Daisy. Followed immediately by Gideon, and the four cheapskates who had just tried to scam me out of my fee. Before I could even process the absurdity, the teleportation array beneath my boots exploded into a blinding crimson light. 3 After a sickening wave of vertigo, damp, freezing fog hit my face. I opened my eyes. My boots were sinking into the muddy soil of some ruined landscape. Looking around, I found five sickeningly familiar faces staring right back at me. Gideon, Daisy, and the four deadbeats. However, thanks to the system’s raid entry mechanics, all their previous fatal injuries had been fully healed the second we loaded in. “Well, well, well. Look who it is. Small world, isn’t it, Val?” Gideon gave a predatory smile, twisting that obsidian ring on his thumb. “Oh wow, Val! How did you end up in this zone?” Daisy bit her lip, faking a look of pleasant surprise. “Since we are a team now, let’s just let bygones be bygones. You are just a Spatial support class. You don’t have any real combat power. Don’t worry, we will take very good ‘care’ of you.” She leaned heavily on the word ‘care’. The men around her chuckled darkly, sharing a knowing look. I patted a speck of mud off my tactical jacket, my expression completely flat. “Don’t flatter yourselves. Just worry about keeping yourselves alive.” “Nonsense! We are all players, we have to look out for each other.” Daisy delicately wrapped her arms around Gideon’s bicep. “Gideon, Val might overcharge people, but she is still just a girl. When we run into danger, we have to make sure she is protected.” I didn’t even bother acknowledging the white lotus act. A quick glance at the system told me this zone was called “Whispering Hollows”. It was merely a C-Tier raid. With my agility alone, I could walk out of here without even triggering a rift. But it took less than five minutes for me to realize I had severely underestimated how utterly spineless these people were. The thick brush ahead rustled violently. Three massive Abyssal Hellhounds, each the size of a grizzly bear, lunged out of the fog, their glowing toxic green eyes locked onto us. “Weapons out!” Gideon roared. His heavy mechanical exoskeleton hummed to life, glowing with red energy lines. I took a step back to maintain a safe distance, but Jax suddenly slammed his shoulder into my back. He shoved me straight into the path of the lead Hellhound’s leaping jaws. “Whoops! Slipped!” Jax gave a fake apology while scrambling backward faster than a rat. “Val! You have spatial speed! Kite two of them away for us! Once we kill this one, we will come save you!” Daisy screamed from the backline, her eyes filled with toxic malice. “Yeah, Val! You’re a pro! Hold the line!” Gideon swung his heavy broadsword at the remaining hound, but deliberately slammed his massive riot shield into the dirt right behind me, completely blocking my only escape route. It was entirely orchestrated. They wanted me to be their free meat shield. They wanted me to die right here. Inside a raid zone, the spatial dimensions were locked by system rules. I couldn’t just tear open a portal back to the Nexus Hub. They clearly knew that. Watching the rotting, razor-sharp jaws snap toward my face, I didn’t even blink. I strolled through SSSS-Tier nightmares for a living. Did they really think a pack of C-Tier trash mobs could take me out? They thought I was soft. Moving with deliberate slowness, I reached into my pocket, pulled out a shimmering gold talisman, and crushed it in my palm. [Alert: God-Tier Consumable ‘Aegis Ward’ activated. Immune to all physical and magical damage. Duration: 30 minutes.] A halo of brilliant golden light instantly wrapped around my body. The Hellhound’s jaws, capable of snapping steel girders, clamped down hard on the barrier. A dull, metallic gong echoed through the trees. The recoil shattered the beast’s fangs, sending black blood flying in all directions. Standing safely inside the golden bubble, ignoring the monster’s infuriated roars, I casually found a clean boulder and sat down. I even dug a can of soda out of my inventory and popped the tab. “Good luck, guys. Rooting for you.” I took a sip of the fizzing drink, smiling pleasantly through the translucent golden dome at Gideon and his crew. Their faces were an absolute picture of shock. They wanted to use the environment to murder me. They forgot that as the premier rescue specialist of the server, the one thing I had an infinite supply of was god-tier survival items. The cost of this single talisman could fund their entire guild for six months. Gideon’s face turned black with rage. Daisy’s innocent mask completely shattered, revealing a twisted, ugly grimace. But before they could formulate a new dirty trick, a deafening, earth-shattering roar erupted from the deepest part of the hollow. The ground began to quake violently. A shadow the size of a skyscraper slowly rose through the dense fog. 4 “ROAR!” The blast of sound shredded the mist. This wasn’t a standard mob. It was a raid boss, an absolute behemoth. Gideon’s face drained of all color. “Damn it! Who crushed the beast egg?!” Daisy was hiking up her pristine skirt, her face turning green with terror. In her hand, she was clutching a glowing red crystal. She had gotten greedy and tried to steal the boss’s loot while the hounds distracted us. “Gideon, save me! It’s looking right at me!” Daisy shrieked, diving behind Gideon’s armored back. The behemoth went into a frenzy. It swiped a massive claw, turning a cluster of ancient trees into splinters. A monster like this did not belong in a C-Tier zone. “Run! Move it!” Gideon screamed. He pushed his exoskeleton to the absolute limit, grabbing Daisy and sprinting for his life. My Aegis Ward was still active. I could have casually walked behind them. But the enraged boss was blindly smashing the terrain. The ground beneath us began to fracture and cave in. As we ran, the path ahead suddenly vanished, giving way to a bottomless, jagged chasm that looked like the gaping maw of the earth. “Dead end!” Jax screamed in despair. Gideon glanced back at the rapidly approaching titan. A flash of pure, ruthless desperation crossed his eyes. He whipped his head around and locked eyes with me. “Don’t blame us, Val. Blame yourself for being a selfish bitch!” Before the words even settled, he lunged at me. At the exact same time, Jax and the other players moved in unison, using all their momentum to shove me toward the edge of the abyss. My Aegis Ward negated damage, but it didn’t prevent physical displacement. My boots left the ground. Freezing wind rushed past my ears. In that split second of freefall, I looked up at the ledge. Daisy was peering over the edge, looking down at me. Her sweet, pitiful act was gone, replaced by a smile of pure malice. “You’ve got so many Credits, Val! You can spend them all by yourself down there! You deserve this!” Without missing a beat, Gideon’s crew turned and sprinted in the other direction. I let out a cold laugh. Did they really think I came unprepared? Just inches before my spine could be impaled on the jagged stalagmites below, I pulled a pitch-black token from my jacket and crushed it. It was an Absolute Anchor Beacon. Price tag: One hundred thousand Credits. It bypassed any and all zone locks. BOOM! A violent storm of spatial energy swallowed me whole. When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting on the cold marble floor of the Nexus Hub. Although I avoided lethal damage, the violent spatial turbulence had bruised my ribs. A trickle of blood ran down my chin, and my tactical jacket was torn to shreds. “Holy crap! Is that Val? How did she get out of the raid?” “Wasn’t she in Whispering Hollows? Oh my god, look at the main screens!” Gasps of horror rippled through the Hub. No one stepped forward to help me up. Every single player was paralyzed, staring up at the massive central broadcast screens. I wiped the blood off my mouth, grabbed a stone pillar to pull myself up, and followed their gaze. The screens were live-streaming Gideon’s team. Without me taking the fall, the enraged boss had cornered them against the edge of the abyss. “Daisy! Open a rift! You said you were a Spatial class! Do it now!” Gideon roared hysterically. Half of his mechanical armor was crushed, and his face was a bloody mess. “I… I’m trying! But the spatial frequency here is too chaotic! I can’t lock the coordinates!” Daisy was sobbing hysterically, snot and tears ruining her pretty face. She waved her hands frantically, conjuring a pathetic, flickering blue spark in the air. The legendary, miraculous “free rescue portal” she had bragged about managed to tear open a gap roughly the size of a human hand. Forget the heavily armored Gideon; you couldn’t even shove a house cat through that hole. “This is your grand spatial magic?!” Jax shrieked in absolute despair. ROAR! The behemoth raised its gargantuan claw, blotting out the sky. Carrying the force of a hurricane, the claw came crashing down on the screaming team.

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1 When my mother gave birth to me, she fell into a crushing postpartum depression. More than once, she stood on our high-rise balcony, staring at the ground far below, ready to jump. Each time, my father rushed out, wrapping his arms tightly around her trembling body, pulling her back against his chest. “I’m here, Jenny,” he would whisper again and again, kissing her hair. “The baby and I are right here. Don’t be afraid.” For our sake, she fought against the silent scream inside her to end it all. But the fragile peace broke the night I burned with fever. As I cried in my crib, something in her snapped. Instead of soothing me, she grabbed a bottle of sleeping pills and locked herself in the bathroom. That was when my father’s own sanity shattered. He kicked the door open, eyes wild and bloodshot. “Do you want to drive us both mad?” he roared, his voice raw from months of exhaustion. “Nothing I do is ever enough! If you want to die so badly, then go ahead—I won’t stop you!” Blind with rage, he twisted off the cap and forced the blue tablets into her mouth. My mother didn’t cry. She didn’t even struggle. She had already seen the secret messages on my father’s phone—from My Sunshine. The woman in those photos looked bright, alive, perfect. My mother believed she could be a better wife to my father, a better mother to me. She had already decided to give up. The pills scattered across the cold tile floor like plastic beads. My father continued to shove them into her mouth, his face twisted in a mask of desperation. But my mother only looked up at him with a faint, tragic smile. “It’s okay,” she whispered around the dry tablets. Suddenly, my loud, agonizing cry cut through the bathroom from the nursery. The sound seemed to pierce through my father’s madness. His eyes cleared, and the plastic bottle slipped from his hand, clattering against the floor. Shaking violently, he shoved his fingers down her throat to force her to throw up. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, his voice trembling as he held her limp body. “Jenny, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s happening to me lately.” My mother retched, coughing up the pills, weeping as she lay collapsed on the floor like a crushed flower. Since her illness began, my father had taken over everything. He changed my diapers, prepared my bottles, and ran his company during the day, only to rush home by six to cook and watch over my mother. Slowly, the people around us began to whisper, their sympathy shifting away from her. “She’s dragging him down,” his employees muttered. “Does she think Christian is a machine who doesn’t need sleep? He works all day and plays nurse all night.” “He does everything for that baby while she just looks for new ways to kill herself. Thank goodness Scarlett is there to help him at the office, or he would have lost his mind by now.” Scarlett was the secretary. She was “My Sunshine.” A sharp ring of the doorbell broke the silence of our apartment. Scarlett stood at the entrance, dressed in a sharp, tailored office suit. When she saw the pills scattered across the floor and my mother’s disheveled state, her eyes welled with tears. “Mrs. Shaw, are you torturing Christian again?” Scarlett asked, her voice trembling with indignation. “It’s just a baby. If you didn’t want to go through with it, you shouldn’t have had her. But don’t use your illness as an excuse to destroy him.” My mother froze, her limbs starting to shake uncontrollably. It was the onset of another panic attack. Seeing this, my father quickly retrieved her prescription bottle and a glass of water, gently coaxing her to swallow the calming medication. “Scarlett, that’s enough!” he barked, pulling her back. But Scarlett wouldn’t stop. “He almost fainted at his desk yesterday, Christian! And then he has to come home to this. Please, just let him go. I beg you.” Before she could walk away, I let out another sharp wail from my crib. Without a word, my father and Scarlett sprang into action. One wrapped me in a warm blanket while the other expertly prepared a fresh bottle. Their movements were so synchronized, so effortlessly harmonious, that they looked like a real family. My mother instinctively reached her pale, thin hand toward me. But my father gently, silently pushed her hand aside. In that moment, a quiet realization seemed to settle over her. She couldn’t even take care of herself. How could she ever take care of me? Slowly, she pulled her hand back, tucking it into her sleeve. When my father carried me out the door to take me to the clinic, he looked back at her one last time. His eyes held nothing but profound weariness and disappointment. The heavy front door clicked shut. My mother dragged her weak limbs into the bedroom. The cabinet where the sleeping pills were kept was locked tight, but she managed to pry it open with a heavy brass paperweight. She unscrewed the lid, tipped her head back, and swallowed the pills, one after the other. In those quiet seconds as the chemicals began to invade her system, fragments of the past flashed through her mind. She remembered my grandmother’s harsh demands, insisting on an heir despite my mother’s fertility struggles. She remembered the endless, painful rounds of IVF that left her body bruised and swollen. She remembered the smell of copper and rust in the delivery room when she began to hemorrhage, and my father’s frantic voice echoing from the corridor. “Jenny, I only want you! I don’t care about the baby, just stay with me!” But after thirteen agonizing hours of labor, I was born. And with my birth came the shadow that never left her. She had tried to hang herself, tried to swallow poison, tried to slit her wrists in the bathtub. Each time, my father had arrived just in time, catching the blade with his bare hands. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he would say. He had been her savior, the perfect husband, and the ultimate father in everyone’s eyes. But he had also started smoking heavily, and the dark circles under his eyes had turned into permanent bruises. That night, my father’s driver brought me back to the apartment, but my father didn’t return. I lay quietly in my stroller. My mother leaned over, her fingers tracing my cheek with a desperate, tragic tenderness. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. With her vision blurring from the slow-acting pills, she opened Scarlett’s social media page. There was a live photo posted just minutes ago. Through the shifting frame, she saw my father, shirtless, laughing as he leaned over Scarlett. The caption read: Only with you can I finally breathe. In the brief flash of the image, the tattoo on my father’s lower back was clearly visible. It was a small, radiant sun. The exact same icon he used for Scarlett’s contact name. And then my mother saw her own name in his contact list. He had saved her under a simple emoji: a dark, heavy raincloud. Tears silently spilled over her cheeks, soaking into the fabric of her collar. She shook so violently that she had to choke down several of her calming pills just to keep from collapsing on the spot. Then, the landline rang. It was the hospital. “Is this Genevieve Shaw? I am so sorry to inform you, but your mother suffered a massive cardiac arrest. She passed away ten minutes ago.” My mother gasped, clutching me to her chest as she ran out into the pouring rain. She fell several times on the wet pavement, scraping her knees, but she kept going until she reached the hospital. When she saw the white sheet draped over her mother’s face, she fell to her knees, her voice raw. “How could this happen? Her heart had been fine for years…” Lost and terrified, her first instinct was to call my father. The first call rang out. No answer. The second call was instantly rejected. By the third try, his phone was switched off. The cold, robotic operator’s voice repeated in her ear, matching the icy rain that dripped from her hair. He had promised her, sworn on his life, that he would always answer her calls on the first ring. Huddled on the freezing hospital floor with me in her arms, she felt the last piece of her world slip away. She walked into her mother’s empty hospital room to gather her belongings. On the floor by the bedside table, she found her mother’s phone. The screen was still active, displaying a video that had been sent earlier that afternoon. In the video, Scarlett was holding my father, a positive pregnancy test clutched in her hand. “Christian, I’ll get rid of the baby,” Scarlett sobbed in the recording. “I just want to be by your side, to take care of you and Genevieve. But please, give me some kind of status. Give me a reason to stay.” The camera panned slightly, catching my father’s conflicted face against the window. After a long, agonizing pause, he spoke. “Okay.” My mother felt as though a lightning bolt had pierced her chest. Clutching her marriage certificate, which she always kept in her purse, she ran through the rain to the local registry office. The clerk behind the desk looked at the database, then shook her head with a look of pity. “Mrs. Shaw, Christian Shaw’s legal spouse is not you. It is a woman named Scarlett Vance.” The words echoed in her ears, dragging her back to three months ago. My father had taken her marriage certificate, claiming he needed it to register a new downtown property under her name. “You’re the hero of our family, Jenny,” he had said, kissing her forehead. “You gave me our beautiful baby.” He hadn’t been buying a house. He had been quietly dissolving their marriage. My grandmother’s only wish had been for her daughter to have a happy, stable family. Seeing that video had literally stopped her heart. Under the gray, pouring sky, my mother’s vision went black, and she collapsed onto the wet concrete. When she opened her eyes again, she was in a hospital bed. My father was sitting beside her, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than ever. But when he saw her wake up, his face hardened with anger. “Did you really call me a dozen times and fake an illness just to get attention?” he snapped. “Do you have any idea that our daughter was running a high fever? Scarlett and I had to stay up all night at the clinic. Can’t you be sensible, just for once?” He hadn’t even looked at the death certificate resting on her bedside table. My mother swallowed the dry lump of grief in her throat. She lowered her head and remained silent. “I left the baby with Scarlett,” my father said, standing up to adjust his coat. “The company gala is tomorrow night. Make sure you wear something decent. Don’t embarrass me again.” At the gala, my mother wore a beautiful crimson gown, but no amount of silk could hide the ghostly paleness of her skin. On stage, Scarlett stood in a brilliant gold dress, receiving the “Employee of the Year” award directly from my father’s hands. The whispers from the crowd drifted over to where my mother stood. “If it weren’t for Scarlett, Christian’s company would have gone under by now.” “She thinks having a baby makes her royalty. Always throwing tantrums.” “Honestly, Christian and Scarlett look like the real couple here.” My mother watched them, realizing the crowd was right. They looked perfect together. Her eyes drifted to Scarlett’s wrist. Resting there was the heirloom emerald bracelet, a piece of jewelry traditionally passed down to the rightful matriarch of the Shaw family. My mother had almost broken it during one of her manic episodes, and my father had locked it away, promising to keep it safe. Now, it gleamed against Scarlett’s pale skin. Seeing my mother, Scarlett smiled, naturally linking her arm through my father’s as they walked over. “Mrs. Shaw,” Scarlett said, her eyes flashing with quiet triumph. “Please don’t play the sick card next time. Christian and I were genuinely worried about you.” My mother clenched her fists, trying to stop her body from shaking. Scarlett stepped closer, leaning in until her lips were inches from my mother’s ear. “I didn’t have time to visit your mother yesterday,” she whispered, her voice low and venomous. “So I sent her a little surprise instead. I wonder if she liked it?” The wicked, mocking grin on Scarlett’s face seemed to expand, filling my mother’s vision. Before she could think, my mother lunged forward, her fingers wrapping tightly around Scarlett’s throat. “Why did you do it?” my mother screamed, her voice cracking. “You killed her! Aren’t you afraid of hell?” Scarlett choked, struggling in her grip, but she didn’t look afraid. She smiled. The next second, my father slammed his hand into my mother’s shoulder, shoving her away so hard she hit the floor. He stepped in front of Scarlett, shielding her. “Genevieve, I told you to stop this madness!” he roared, his eyes filled with pure disgust. He didn’t see the malicious smirk playing on Scarlett’s lips behind his back. Just as my mother gathered the strength to stand, the smart tracker on her wrist began to beep frantically. It was the emergency alert linked to my baby monitor. My mother’s heart stopped. She looked up, meeting Scarlett’s cold, mocking gaze. “What did you do to my baby?” my mother shrieked. “If you touch her, I’ll tear you apart!” Scarlett shrank back, putting on a face of pure innocence. “Christian, I don’t know what she’s talking about. I placed the baby in the best private nursery in the city. I paid for the highest level of security. How is that a crime?” Without a moment of hesitation, my father turned and shoved my mother back down onto the floor. “Scarlett is trying to help you care for our daughter, and you accuse her of this?” he spat. “Are you ever going to stop?” The alarm on the watch was ringing louder, a high-pitched scream that tore at my mother’s soul. She crawled forward, clawing at his trousers. “The baby is in danger! I can feel it! She’s—” “Shut up!” he interrupted, kicking his leg free. “Scarlett has sacrificed her own time for our child, and you humiliate her in front of my entire company? Is this depression excuse ever going to run out?” My mother froze, her tears dripping onto the polished wooden floor. Scarlett stepped forward, her eyes red, looking like the victim of a terrible injustice. “Christian, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have argued with her. Since she’s sick, she can say whatever she wants.” With a theatrical sigh, Scarlett began to lower herself to her knees to apologize. My father caught her immediately, pulling her up before looking down at my mother with absolute coldness. “Apologize to her,” he commanded. Those two words crushed the last bit of life left in my mother’s chest. Suddenly, she coughed, and a spray of dark, clotted blood splattered across the floor. The guests gasped, drawing back in horror. My father took a step back, his face flashing with sudden alarm. “Jenny, what… what is that?” Only my mother knew that the massive dose of sleeping pills had finally begun to destroy her organs from the inside out. Without saying a word, she wiped the blood from her chin, dragged her body forward, and knelt before Scarlett. She bowed, pressing her forehead to the floor three times. “I am sorry, Miss Vance,” she whispered. She stood up, her eyes vacant as she looked at my father’s stunned face. “Can I go now?” Without waiting for an answer, she tapped the tracker on her watch. The signal wasn’t coming from the luxury nursery. It was coming from the top-floor warehouse of my father’s company building. Scarlett quietly raised her phone, showing my mother the screen. On the live security feed, I was tied to a small wooden chair in the corner of a locked storage room. Dark, thick smoke was already billowing under the door. My mother opened her mouth to scream, to beg, but before she could move, my father’s security guards pinned her arms behind her back. My father looked at her with cold indifference. “I am signing the custody of our daughter over to Scarlett. You need to be locked away until you can clear your head.” He turned and walked away, his arm wrapped protectively around Scarlett, who flashed a final, victorious smile over her shoulder. My mother screamed, thrashing against the guards, but her body was failing. As the connection between us slowly faded into nothingness, she collapsed onto the floor, her eyes staring blankly into the light. When my father finally returned to the quiet apartment late that night, the rooms were dark. He walked out onto the balcony, lighting a cigarette. He checked his phone, but there was no reply to the messages he had sent her. A strange, heavy weight settled in his chest. He walked into the master bedroom. As he opened the door, his shoe hit a plastic object. He looked down. It was an empty bottle of sleeping pills. A sudden, terrible dread gripped his throat as he picked it up. In that exact moment, his phone began to ring furiously in his pocket. It was the emergency room.

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1 I used to be the ex-girlfriend Leo claimed he was “just having fun with.” Then, his younger brother, James, spotted me in a club and roped me into playing his fake girlfriend—all to make his childhood crush jealous. That kiss in the VIP room was supposed to be a show for the crush, but it landed right in Leo’s line of sight. Right in front of James, Leo emphasized the word “sister-in-law,” chewing on it like it was a bitter betrayal. “Don’t recognize me? Sister-in-law.” Inside the club. I was carrying a tray of drinks across the dance floor. The moment I turned around, someone grabbed my wrist. I looked down. The guy looked early twenties. Striking features, with eyes that were bright and completely feral. “You’ll do,” he said. I raised an eyebrow. “Let go.” “You need money.” “Are you psychic now?” “Would you be working here if you were rich?” He tilted his head. I didn’t argue. My bank account was sitting in the double digits, and rent was due in three days. “And your point is?” “Play my girlfriend. One month. A thousand bucks.” I laughed out loud. “Did you hit your head on the way in?” He let go of my wrist and pulled up a photo on his phone, shoving it in my face. “Her. Michelle,” he said. “I’ve asked her out 999 times, and she always shoots me down.” “I want her to know I can get a girl too.” He paused, his eyes lingering on my face for a second. The tips of his ears turned a suspicious shade of red. “Plus, you’re prettier than her. By a lot.” I smirked. “Then go find a real girlfriend.” “Too much work.” He said it like it was a universal truth. “A fake one is easier. When it’s over, we go our separate ways. Clean.” I sat down, giving him a slow once-over. His ears turned even redder. “What are you looking at?” “Seeing if you’re worth my time.” I curled the corner of my lip. “A month is too long. Three appearances, max. A thousand bucks, paid upfront.” “Are you robbing me?” I made a move to stand up. “Deal!” He added my number. The name popped up on my screen: James Vance. The next day, James sent me an address. When I got to the lounge, I sent him a voice note: “Hey babe, I’m here.” He replied instantly: “Don’t talk like that!!!” Three minutes later, he walked out of the lounge and just stared at me, dumbfounded. “Look good?” I blinked innocently. His Adam’s apple bobbed. I slid my arm through his. “Let’s go, boyfriend.” His entire body went rigid like a coiled spring. The girl from the photo was definitely the center of attention in the private booth. When she saw us walk in arm-in-arm, her eyes locked on me. “And this is?” She scanned me from head to toe. James tried to play it cool. “My girlfriend.” One of the guys started hollering. “Holy shit, James! Since when? You never said a word!” “Recently.” James kept stealing glances at Michelle out of the corner of his eye. “Love at first sight.” Michelle smiled tightly. “What should we call you?” Everyone looked at me. I slowly slipped my jacket off. The slip dress underneath left very little to the imagination. I rested my chin on James’s shoulder, smiling sweetly at Michelle. “You can just call me a little older and wiser.” James completely froze. Michelle blinked. “You’re older than James?” “Doesn’t matter.” I turned my head, letting the tip of my nose brush against James’s ear. “What matters is he likes it. Right, babe?” James’s ear was hot enough to fry an egg on. “…Yeah.” The vibe in the booth shifted instantly. “I’m gonna get some air,” I said, standing up. I leaned in and whispered in James’s ear, “Keep up the act.” Out in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette. Footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. I looked up by instinct— The cigarette dropped from my lips. Leo Vance. His features were even colder than I remembered. He stopped in his tracks. Then, he smiled. It was a smile that chilled you to the bone, like a bitter November wind. “Long time no see.” I picked up the cigarette, held it unlit between my lips, and said nothing. He stepped closer, reached out, and plucked the cigarette from my mouth, snapping it in half between his fingers. Then, his eyes dropped to the thin straps of my dress. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What are you doing dressed like this in a place like this?” “Meeting a guy,” I laughed. “Is my ex-boyfriend trying to play chaperone?” His eyes darkened, like ink swirling in a glass of water. Right then, the door to the booth swung open behind me. An arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me backward into a solid chest. Then, a soft pair of lips landed clumsily on the corner of my mouth. Someone inside yelled, “Holy shit! James, you’re actually doing it!” Before I could even process what was happening, another force violently yanked James away. James stumbled back, looked up, and saw Leo. He froze. “Leo? You made it?” My brain flatlined. Leo’s gaze moved slowly from my face to James. The corner of his mouth twitched into a dangerous smile. “And who is this?” “My girlfriend!” James puffed out his chest, sounding entirely too proud of himself. “Gorgeous, right?” Leo’s eyes dragged deliberately from my lips down to the spot on my shoulder where James’s hand had just been. “Sister-in-law.” He chewed on the word, spitting it out like it tasted like poison. “Hey there,” I blinked at him innocently. “Brother-in-law.” Leo’s breathing hitched. “Wait, you two know each other?” James frowned, his eyes darting between me and his older brother. “Never met her.” “Nope.” We spoke at the exact same time. Leo didn’t look at me again. He pushed past us and walked straight into the booth. James leaned in close, dropping his voice. “Are you sure you don’t know my brother?” “Positive.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder and smiled at him. “What, afraid I’m sleeping with him behind your back?” “No—” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just… the way he looked at you was weird.” “What kind of weird?” “I don’t know how to explain it.” He thought for a second. “It was like… he wanted to tear someone to pieces.” “You’re overthinking it.” I looped my arm through his, pressing myself against his side. “Let’s go back in.” He didn’t move. He looked down at me, a strange look in his eyes. “Were you… acting a little too real back there?” “Isn’t this what you paid for?” I looked up at him, my eyes crinkling in a smile. “Babe, I’m a professional. If you pay me, you get the premium package.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he turned his face away. Bright red. I laughed to myself. Kids are so easy to read. When we walked back into the booth, Leo was already seated. The only open spot was right next to him. I sat down beside James, melting against his side like I had no bones. His arm stiffened for a second before he slowly relaxed, his hand tentatively resting on my waist. Leo didn’t stop drinking, but his jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek. My phone buzzed. I looked down. A text from an unknown number: “Do you enjoy parading around half-naked in front of other men?” I didn’t reply. Delete. Block. Then, with a bright smile, I picked up a piece of fruit on a toothpick and held it up to James’s mouth. “Say ah, babe.” James looked like his soul was leaving his body. He took the toothpick from my hand and whispered, “Can you… tone it down a little?” “Tone what down?” I leaned in close, letting my breath ghost over the shell of his ear. He practically shrunk into the sofa, nearly knocking the fruit platter onto the floor. I couldn’t stop laughing. When the night finally ended, James stood outside the club, struggling to find the right words. “You were really good tonight. Michelle looked like she wanted to puke.” “Thanks for the glowing review.” “But,” he paused, “I still think my brother was acting weird around you.” “Is that so?” “Though I heard he just got dumped by his girlfriend recently, so maybe he’s just in a bad mood.” “Right, right. He’s probably just jealous of you,” I brushed it off. “Oh, wait.” I suddenly remembered the stunt in the hallway. “You kissed me without my permission tonight.” James looked like a deer in headlights. He whipped his head away, his ears burning crimson. “They were calling me a liar! I had to prove it!” “That wasn’t part of the base package, honey.” He immediately pulled out his phone and hit send on a transfer. A notification popped up. Ten grand. I stared at the screen, genuinely shocked. “Are you always this reckless with your money?” James tilted his chin up, trying to sound tough but just sounding defensive. “Are you saying my first kiss isn’t worth ten grand?” I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. “Alright, well, this girl needs her beauty sleep.” As I turned to walk away, I could feel his eyes glued to my back. But I could feel another gaze, too. Piercing down from the second-floor window of the club. Heavy, suffocating, like it was trying to nail my feet to the pavement. Once I was in the cab, my phone buzzed again. A new number. “See you soon.” Ten seconds later, a second text came through, as if he was intentionally giving me time to panic. “Ex-girlfriend.” The second act happened sooner than I expected. James texted me: “Party tonight. Michelle’s going to be there. You need to come.” He followed it up with: “Maybe keep it low-key tonight. After you left last time, my brother didn’t say a single word for the rest of the night. It was terrifying.” I was lying in bed, holding my phone above my face. I smirked. “Low-key? Go hire someone else.” He replied instantly: “NO WAIT! WEAR WHATEVER YOU WANT! PLEASE COME!” Then, another transfer hit my account. One grand. I accepted the money and sent back a blown-kiss emoji. “Good boy. Mommy will take good care of you tonight.” “Witch!” I tossed my phone aside, laughing, and started digging through my closet. I finally settled on a deep burgundy velvet mini dress. It completely exposed my collarbones, so I paired it with a microscopic gold chain holding a single ruby pendant that rested right on the edge of the neckline. If I walked out in this, forget the childhood crush—I could make a priest break his vows. This VIP room was even bigger than the last one, complete with a private karaoke stage and a full bar. When I walked in, it was already packed. “The queen arrives!” the same guy from last time hollered. “James, your girl is insane. Every time she walks in, it looks like a red carpet.” James grinned like an idiot, throwing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me down onto the sofa next to him. Michelle was sitting directly across from us, her makeup flawless but understated. “Want to sing?” Michelle offered the microphone, her smile tight. I took it and picked a song. When the chorus hit, I turned around and sang directly to James. My eyes locked on his, my voice low and breathy, like I was whispering a secret just for him. I reached out, tracing a finger from his collar down to his jawline, giving it a playful tap. James sat up so straight it looked like someone had shoved a steel rod down his spine. His ears were practically glowing red. When the song ended, the room was dead silent for three whole seconds before anyone clapped. “So, how did you two get together?” Michelle asked, her voice dangerously quiet. James was taking a nervous gulp of water and practically choked on it. I answered for him. “At a club. He grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let me leave until I agreed to go out with him.” Michelle’s smile slipped for a fraction of a second. “Really?” “Yep.” I turned to look at James, reaching out to trace his jawline again. “He was so cute that night. Like a stubborn little puppy. I just didn’t have the heart to say no.” James coughed violently, almost spitting water everywhere. “I need to use the bathroom.” He scrambled up and bolted. Michelle watched him run away, then looked back at me. She took a slow sip of her drink and didn’t say a word. But the temperature in her eyes had dropped below freezing. “I’m going out for a smoke.” Leo stood up abruptly from his dark corner of the booth. When he said it, his eyes were dead set on me. My phone buzzed. “End of the hall.” “Come here.” I ignored it. Three minutes passed. “Don’t make me drag you out here.” I let out a soft laugh, downed the rest of my drink, and stood up. Leo was leaning against the wall, a cigarette pinched between his fingers. I tilted my head, looking up at him. He took a step forward, boxing me in against the wall. He didn’t touch me, but his scent—tobacco and something dark and expensive—completely engulfed me. I instinctively held my breath. “Are you done playing your little game?” “Who’s playing games with you?” I gave him a mock innocent look. His eyes traced a slow path from my lips down to the ruby resting on my chest. He paused for a beat. Then he reached out, his thumb and forefinger gripping my chin, tilting my face up to force me to look at him. “If you need money that badly,” his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble, “you can come to me.” I smiled, but the warmth didn’t reach my eyes. “Leo, whatever we were, it’s been over for a long time.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You vanished. You didn’t leave a single word.” “Because there was nothing left to say.” I closed my eyes for a second, the memory washing over me. Standing outside the men’s room at that club, hearing his voice drifting over the sound of running water— Mia? I’m just having fun with her. The laughter. The clinking glasses. I had turned around and walked out. No tears. No dramatic confrontations. I never looked back. “Mia.” His lips were inches from my ear. “You owe me an explanation.” I pushed his chest hard. “An explanation for what? Why I dumped you?” I smoothed an invisible crease on my skirt, keeping my voice light and completely detached. “Because you were boring, Leo. Being with you was a chore.” His eyes turned lethal, like polished obsidian daggers. I didn’t back down. We just stood there, locked in a silent war. Suddenly, voices drifted from the other end of the hall. “It’s not what you think—” James and Michelle. I turned my head. Down the hall, James was chasing after Michelle. Michelle’s eyes were red, her voice trembling. “You’ve been confessing your feelings to me since we were kids. I never said yes because I was never sure if you were actually serious.” “Of course I was serious before!” James looked frantic. “James, do you even realize what you just threw away?” Michelle looked up at him, a single tear rolling down her cheek, looking perfectly fragile. “I was actually planning on saying yes. On your thousandth attempt.” James froze, completely stunned. “Don’t cry. I… I just wanted you to notice me. I…” The words died in his throat, like he was choking on them. Michelle stared right at him. “If you were single right now, and I said yes… what would you choose?” James went completely silent. I leaned back against the wall. Smart girl. She didn’t demand that he dump me. She dangled the prize he had wanted his whole life in front of his face, forcing him to make the choice himself. No matter what he said, she got to play the tragic victim. Leo stepped up right behind me. He lowered his head, his lips grazing my ear. “Enjoying the show?” I ignored him. “Oh my god, I am so sorry, sir! Let me clean that up!” A waiter rushing past with a cart had accidentally sloshed a few drops of red wine onto Leo’s crisp dress shirt. The commotion made James and Michelle look over. They saw me and Leo. He was standing so close his body was practically wrapped around mine. James’s face went from confused, to shocked, to absolutely furious. “Mia!” He sprinted down the hall, grabbed my arm, and yanked me behind his back, glaring daggers at his older brother. “Back off, Leo.” The faint trace of amusement completely vanished from Leo’s face. “Excuse me?” James pushed me further behind him, guarding me like a junkyard dog. “I said—stay the hell away from my girlfriend!”

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