A new “Little Miss Innocent” transferred into our elite private academy. She practically had the words “The ‘I Can Fix Him’ Heroine” glowing in neon letters above her head. Every single day, she hovered around my fiancé, showering him with excessive concern and handing him cheap lollipops. Whenever I got close to my fiancé, she would shield him behind her back and scream at me: “I—I know you’re rich and powerful, but I won’t allow you to bully him!” With tears welling in her eyes, she looked like she had suffered the ultimate injustice. Me, having literally done nothing: “Are you psycho?” 1 Mia Collins was delivering candy again, while I was spinning my pen in sheer boredom. The classroom was a chaotic mess of chattering voices. My desk mate, Zoey, who was busy checking her makeup in a compact mirror, suddenly nudged me with her elbow. She tilted her chin to the left, her eyes full of blatant disgust. “Chloe, that transfer student is giving Liam candy again.” Her again. Mia Collins, the scholarship student who always acted like she was the designated savior heroine of a tragic romance novel. I stopped spinning my pen and looked over at her. She was wearing a brand-new pristine uniform. In one hand, she clutched her usual cheap lollipop. In the other, she held a slightly warped plastic thermos filled with some kind of hot white liquid. Looking straight ahead, she marched past the first row, then the second, heading straight for the back of the class. Finally, under the increasingly gossipy gazes of everyone around us, she shyly took a seat at Liam’s desk. A few students in the back huddled together, whispering excitedly. Mia remained completely unfazed. She gently placed the lollipop in front of Liam’s pencil case, then decisively unscrewed the cap of a high-end insulated tumbler sitting on the corner of his desk. Zoey pointed at Mia in shock. “Chloe! Isn’t that the tumbler filled with the imported vitamins your family got for Liam?” “Looks like it,” I replied casually. Resting my chin on my hand, my eyes followed Mia as she marched over to the trash can, poured out every last drop of the expensive supplements, and scurried back to Liam’s desk to mess with her plastic thermos. A girl nearby caught my eye and leaned in toward Mia, pretending to be curious. “Hey, transfer student. Did you ask Liam for permission before messing with his stuff?” Mia put on an incredibly shy expression and whispered, “This is warm almond milk. I just wanted to prepare something for him myself…” As she spoke, she began pouring the almond milk into the expensive tumbler. Zoey let out a mocking scoff. “Do you honestly not know what Chloe Sterling and Liam Vance are to each other?” Mia’s hands froze. She cast a fleeting, pitiful glance in my direction before quickly lowering her head, her voice trembling with manufactured grievance. “I know. I just… I just wanted to be nice to him. I wanted to warm his stomach.” Honestly, whatever she wanted to do with Liam had very little to do with me. But watching this entire performance unfold, I was getting a serious whiff of manipulative “pick-me” energy. Her constant, victimized glances in my direction were starting to annoy me. I clicked my tongue and casually reminded her, “Transfer student, Liam has a sensitive stomach. He can’t drink almond milk.” Zoey chimed in, “And the supplements you just poured down the drain cost a small fortune, by the way.” Mia flinched. The hands holding the tumbler and the plastic bottle went completely stiff. The hot almond milk missed the rim and spilled over her fingers. Scalded, she let go. With a loud BANG, the heavy tumbler crashed onto the floor. The scalding hot almond milk splattered everywhere in a messy puddle. The classroom instantly went dead silent. Countless eyes zeroed in on the scene. A sudden, burning pain flared across my left calf and foot. Even the back of my hand, resting on my desk, hadn’t escaped the splash zone. I had been pampered my entire life. No one had ever treated me like this. I looked down at the reddening skin on my leg, and then at the custom $7,000 leather loafers that had just been delivered yesterday. I let out a dry, irritated laugh. “Talk about rotten luck today.” Mia’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t utter a single word of apology. I stood up, intending to head to the locker room to change my shoes. As I walked past Mia, I paused. “Mia.” My voice sounded sharp in the unnaturally quiet classroom. I wiped my hand with a tissue, looking down at her coldly. “That tumbler? I gave it to Liam. It’s worth about $1,500. I won’t even count the imported vitamins you poured out. But these shoes cost me seven grand. My lawyers will contact you after school.” The kids in our social circle never shied away from drama. They immediately started jeering: “The Sterling family’s legal team is known as the undefeated sharks of Wall Street.” “Transfer student, you’re screwed!” Hearing this, Mia cried even harder. She sat at Liam’s desk, sobbing and hiccuping. “You… you rich kids are all bullies. You’re so mean!” That was exactly when Liam walked in. He stopped just to the right of me and Mia. He was tall and lean, wearing a pair of silver half-rimmed glasses resting on his straight nose. His indifferent gaze swept past Mia, who was weeping a river at his desk, and locked onto me without a trace of emotion. “Chloe Sterling, what did you do this time?” 2 Liam and I locked eyes in the tense silence. Three seconds later, I suddenly stepped into his personal space. “Liam, my darling fiancé. How come you only saw the little innocent flower crying, but you completely missed the burn on my leg?” Only then did Liam lower his gaze to my legs. He looked down and saw the angry red patch on my pale calf, still dotted with droplets of almond milk. I casually took a seat at an empty desk nearby, crossing my left leg and swinging it slightly so he could get a good look. Before Liam could say a word, Mia suddenly lunged forward, throwing herself between us. She screamed at me: “I—I know you’re rich and powerful, but I won’t allow you to bully him!” With tears streaming down her face, she looked like a martyr suffering for love. I hadn’t even done anything yet, and here she was, screaming at me like a lunatic. My temper flared. “Are you psycho?” Mia didn’t answer. She just looked at Liam with big, pitiful, tear-filled eyes. Oh, two can play that game. I kept my mouth shut, crossed my arms over my chest, and stared at Liam. Liam let out a nearly inaudible sigh. He grabbed a tissue, crouched down, and wrapped one hand around my ankle. His grip was firm. The rest of the class, completely used to this dynamic, went back to whatever they were doing. With lowered eyes, his long lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks, Liam meticulously and gently wiped the sticky residue off my leg. After several passes, a faint stinging sensation returned. My skin was incredibly sensitive. If he kept rubbing, he was going to peel a layer off. “Stop,” I frowned, annoyed. “Liam, that hurts.” I tugged my leg twice, but I couldn’t break free. Instead, his grip tightened. Liam looked up. His eyes were like a dark abyss, practically swallowing me whole. “Does it hurt?” he asked. His intense stare made me uncomfortable, and my first instinct was to escape. Without thinking, I kicked out lightly, leaving a distinct half-footprint right on his crisp, pristine white uniform shirt. Liam had severe OCD and was a massive neat freak. Looking at the glaring smudge on his shirt, I felt a twinge of guilt. “I just wanted you to let go.” Even though I felt bad, I kept my chin high, maintaining my arrogant facade. I glared at him fiercely. “Did you hear me?” “Yeah,” Liam’s voice was slightly hoarse. “I’ll let go.” He stood up, completely ignoring the dirt on his shirt, and looked down at the dented tumbler that had rolled next to my desk. Mia seized the opportunity. She scrambled to pick up the tumbler, cradling it in her hands. She looked up at Liam and stammered, “I brought you warm almond milk this morning. I wanted to put it in your cup, but—” She shot a rapid, meaningful glance at me, acting as if she had been forced into silence. “Anyway, it fell on the floor and got dented.” Liam looked at her blankly. “Got it.” His voice was flat and slow. But Mia was overjoyed just to get a response. She held the cup out to him with both hands. Liam took the tumbler. In the very next second, he brushed past her, walked straight to the trash can, and tossed the expensive tumbler inside. Leaving Mia staring in absolute shock, he walked out the back door of the classroom. A few minutes later, Liam returned carrying a pair of delicate, black designer flats—my backup shoes from my private locker. He crouched down, meeting my dazed eyes. “Change your shoes.” Mia’s face turned beet red with rage. She rudely pointed a finger at me, then screamed at the crouching Liam, “Liam! Are you her dog?!” Liam kept his head down, completely deaf to her words. Looking at Mia practically stomping her feet in frustration, I raised an eyebrow. “Liam, I think she feels sorry for you.” “Yeah. And?” Liam looked up, his gaze locking onto mine. “What do you think?” He was as cold and indifferent as ever. I blinked, flashing a wicked little smile. “I have no idea.” 3 Liam and I had been engaged since we were kids. Logically speaking, no one should have been able to tolerate my spoiled, princess-like temper. Some of our friends even had secret bets going on about when Liam would finally snap and break off the engagement. To their shock, the golden boy, Liam Vance, had always catered to my every whim, taking care of me down to the smallest detail. In our social circle, everyone called us the golden couple, a match made in heaven. After high school, the Sterling and Vance families used their wealth and connections to enroll us in the elite Crestwood Academy. Unlike normal universities, Crestwood assigned classes based on asset evaluations and offered incredibly flexible schedules. The tragedy happened during our freshman year. Liam’s mother died in a horrific car crash. His social-climbing father immediately moved his mistress and illegitimate son into the family estate, seizing the assets and inheritance that rightfully belonged to Liam. Overnight, the wealthy, untouchable young heir lost everything, plummeting from the clouds into the dirt. After that, Liam moved out of the mansion and into a modest, run-down apartment near the school with his grandmother. I don’t know exactly when, but he learned how to smoke. He became incredibly frugal. The boy who never had to worry about money began aggressively entering every single academic competition that offered a cash prize. He became quieter, harder, and almost unapproachable. But he still took care of me exactly like he used to. It was as if no one else in the world could trigger his emotions—except me. Until… Mia arrived. From her very first day as a transfer student, she locked her sights directly on Liam. And whenever she looked at me, underneath the blatant jealousy, there was always a strange trace of pity. At first, Liam ignored her completely. But then, out of nowhere, he started paying attention to her. He even initiated contact. I wasn’t some brain-dead, clueless villainess from a YA romance novel. I knew there was something weird about Mia. And I also knew that if you wanted to win the war, the worst thing you could do was act impulsively and lose the long game. 4 After the almond milk incident, Mia finally kept a low profile for a few days. It was raining today, the sky a gloomy, muted gray. Liam was off-campus representing the school in a physics decathlon, which meant Mia had no one to perform for. During the afternoon study hall, the girls in our class gathered around my desk, chatting about the latest designer drops. “Chloe, that dress you posted on Instagram last week—can I borrow it for my birthday party?” Zoey’s cheeks were round and pink, and she was incredibly cute when she begged. I laughed, unable to resist pinching her cheek. “You’ve got a good eye. Do you even know how much that vintage haute couture piece is worth?” “Like, sixteen hundred dollars, right?” Zoey grabbed my hand. “Please, Chloe? My favorite princess, just let me wear it once!” “Pfft—sixteen hundred dollars?” Mia, sitting across the aisle, laughed out loud. “You need to borrow a sixteen-hundred-dollar dress?” The girls exchanged looks and laughed even louder than Mia. “Hahahaha!” “Is she telling a bad joke?” Zoey rolled her eyes directly at Mia and scoffed, “It’s two point five million dollars, transfer student.” Mia froze, a flash of deep embarrassment crossing her face. But she quickly recovered, turning to me with a self-righteous glare. “Two and a half million dollars for a single dress? Don’t you think that’s a massive waste? Wouldn’t it be better if you donated that money to children in poverty?” Her expression was the picture of moral superiority, her eyes full of judgment. I stared at the invisible words floating above her head for a long moment, staying completely silent. I finally got it. This “Savior Heroine” wasn’t just delusional; her moral compass was completely twisted. Mia squirmed under my intense stare. “A-Am I wrong?” “No, I think you’re absolutely right,” I smiled, my eyes curving into crescents. Mia let out a breath of relief. “So—” I rested my chin on my hand. “How about I just give the money directly to you, transfer student?” Mia’s eyes widened in shock. Her heart clearly skipped a beat. “T-Two and a half million? You’d just give it to me?” “Yep.” I tilted my head, putting on a perfectly innocent expression. “I’ll wire it right to your account.” Mia, trapped by her own moral grandstanding moments ago, struggled to maintain her pride. She stammered, “Well, if… if you’re offering it to me—” “Ah,” I cut her off mercilessly. I inspected my fresh manicure, speaking slowly and deliberately. “But of course, our noble, selfless transfer student would never accept a handout like that, right?” Mia finally snapped, her face burning with humiliation. “I was just giving you a suggestion! You don’t have to humiliate me like this!” “Oh,” I replied lazily. “I was just stating facts. No need to overreact.” Zoey muttered loudly beside me, “She clearly doesn’t read the news. She has no idea how many millions the Sterling family donates to charity every year.” Though Zoey kept her voice low, she made sure Mia heard every word. Mia’s face turned an ugly shade of pale. She turned away and refused to speak to us. A little while later, she began checking the clock above the chalkboard obsessively. Just past five o’clock, Mia pulled a clean, dry towel and a pack of severe cold medicine out of her backpack. She slapped a sticky note with illegible handwriting onto the medicine, placed it gently on Liam’s desk, and sat there clutching the towel, staring expectantly at the front door. In the next second, the invisible “Savior Heroine” halo above her head glowed even brighter. “Transfer student, are you preparing for a rainy day, or are you just praying for Liam to catch a fever?” Zoey asked, clearly fed up with Mia’s existence. Preparing for a rainy day… I rested my left hand on the desk, tapping my index finger rhythmically against the wood. Was she preparing for a rainy day, or did she already know the future? My eyes suddenly lit up. I grabbed Zoey’s round face and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. “The dress is yours!” I stood up, ready to walk out of the classroom. Zoey, dizzy from the sudden kiss, asked, “Chloe, where are you going?” “Me?” I flashed a brilliant smile. “I’m going to do something worth way more than two and a half million dollars!”

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On the day Carter Hayes got engaged, reporters shoved microphones in my face, asking how I felt. Carter Hayes. He was the untouchable, blue-blooded prince of the Upper East Side. No one approved of the eight years I spent with him. His mother would refer to me simply as “the actress,” spitting the word out like a slur. His inner circle of friends would warn him behind his back, “She’s just a little starlet. Play with her for a bit and let it go.” And Carter? He’d just flip his expensive lighter open and shut, joking carelessly, “What are you scared of? It’s not like I’m actually going to marry her.” I looked right into the interview cameras and said slowly, “Although we aren’t close, it’s a good thing. I wish them a happy engagement.” The video went viral across the internet. Carter took his private jet, flying overnight from New York to L.A. The news of Carter’s engagement completely overshadowed the headlines of my Best Actress win. Looking at the news on my phone, you could only read his name, never see his face. Carter’s photos were strictly kept out of the press. But facts and rumors alike couldn’t stop the public’s insatiable appetite for gossip. Because for the past eight years, thanks to me, he had lingered in the public eye like a ghost. His moniker in the tabloids was simply: “Serena Vance’s Sugar Daddy.” Everyone found amusement in their disdain for me, waiting eagerly for the moment I would fall from grace. “Serena, we heard you met Mr. Hayes when you were eighteen, is that true?” “Serena, you’ve been with him for so many years, why didn’t you end up together? Did his family reject you?” “Mr. Hayes chose today of all days to announce his engagement. Was he intentionally trying to humiliate you?” “Were you ever really together? Did Mr. Hayes dump you?” “Did you split up with this billionaire because of the hand-holding scandal half a month ago?” My eyes slowly swept over their frantic faces. Their gazes felt like they were trying to skin me alive, desperate to dig out an even more explosive headline. Carter Hayes… Got engaged today? I plastered a flawless, graceful smile on my face and looked back at them. “I am not very close with the Mr. Hayes you are referring to. “However, an engagement is a joyous milestone in life… I wish him a happy engagement.” Looking directly into the lens, I said it slowly, one more time: “Happy engagement, Mr. Hayes.” They excitedly analyzed my words layer by layer, acting like detectives searching for hidden clues. I handed my phone back to my manager, Chloe, who looked at me with deep concern. “The internet is saying Mr. Hayes dumped you. Your endorsements and casting offers are probably going to plummet. You know I don’t fully understand his background, but I know he’s someone nobody messes with. “If a man like that puts out a word against you, even a fresh Best Actress award won’t save you.” I felt incredibly drained. “Chloe, don’t worry too much. I won’t let it drag you down…” She offered an awkward smile, her lips moving, but she didn’t say anything else. No one believed that for those eight years, we were just like any ordinary couple. We went from flirtation to deep affection, from a passionately inseparable romance to a heartbreaking, tear-you-apart ending. Carter had a pair of chilling, desolate eyes. When those eyes locked onto you, you instantly felt like you were nothing but dust. It wasn’t intentional on his part; he was simply born that way. He possessed an innate, apathetic indifference toward everything in the world. The first time I looked into those eyes, I subconsciously wondered: in a world this loud and crowded, how much love could a man who stood so far removed from it all truly give? It was 2012. The Mayan doomsday prophecies were everywhere, Taylor Swift was blasting on every radio station, and The Perks of Being a Wallflower was making waves on campus. I was eighteen. My eighteen was fiery, impulsive, and fearless—the age of ignorance where you truly believe love conquers all. That was the year I met Carter Hayes. At the time, I was juggling classes, working part-time jobs, and desperately running around trying to audition for various indie films. When a so-called “investor” placed his rough palm on my thigh during a casting call, I instinctively stood up and smashed my bag over his head. As I ripped the door open and bolted, I heard him scream from behind, “You little bitch! Someone stop her!” I was screaming and struggling, looking like an absolute wreck, when a slightly raspy voice echoed through the hall. “Hey. The girl said no. Didn’t you hear her?” It was a voice so light it barely carried weight, yet it worked instantly. He just threw me a casual glance, as if he happened to see a stray dog getting kicked and, being in a decent mood, decided to intervene. He was leaning against the hallway windowsill, propped up on his elbows. The breeze blew in from outside, ruffling his dark hair. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a luxury watch. The cigarette trapped between his fingers flickered faintly. The men chasing me out of the room saw him and practically scrambled away with their tails between their legs. Clutching my bag to my chest, I gave him a deep, ninety-degree bow and sincerely thanked him. Suddenly, I heard him let out a soft chuckle. He looked out the window, put out his cigarette, and asked lazily, “Acting major? Which school?” “NYU Tisch.” He nodded, as if it were just a passing question. “They’re gone. You can head back.” The first time I saw Carter Hayes, everything about him was so understated that I didn’t even bother to think about who he might actually be. It was only later I realized that when people reach a certain echelon of power, they no longer need outward extravagance to prove themselves. They are often more low-key than anyone else. When we were together, we actively avoided talking about our family backgrounds. To Carter, I was just someone to have fun with; there was no need for explanations. To me, I was just enjoying the fleeting moments of pleasure. It wasn’t until one night at his friend’s private club. The only guy in his circle who was somewhat friendly to me got drunk and accidentally let slip a family name. I didn’t catch it clearly, but I knew it was a name completely out of my reach. Only later did I realize that wasn’t friendliness at all. It was just a different kind of warning: I was completely out of his league. Unfortunately, I was young and arrogant. I refused to listen to anyone’s advice and wasted so many years entangled with him. After the awards ceremony, the afterparties were inevitable. I walked out of the underground parking garage of The Plaza with a slight buzz, waving off my team, choosing to head upstairs alone. As the elevator ascended, I looked at my reflection in the massive mirrored walls. Tonight was supposed to be the proudest moment of my life. I should be cheering and ecstatic. I vaguely remembered a time when I missed out on a tiny, insignificant award and cried uncontrollably. Carter had sighed, pulling me into his arms, murmuring softly: “It’s just some garbage award from nowhere, you don’t need it anyway. Someday you’ll win Best Actress, and we’ll slap it in the faces of everyone who was too blind to see your talent. Stop crying, okay?” I cried even harder, asking uncertainly, “Can I really win Best Actress? I can’t even get a supporting role. When will I ever win Best Actress? You’re just humoring me…” He laughed. “Our Serena is amazing. If you don’t believe in yourself, at least believe in me. When has Carter Hayes ever lied to you?” I wrapped my arms around his waist, wiping my tears all over his ridiculously expensive shirt, leaving him rubbing his temples, afraid to get mad but clearly exasperated. After taking a shower, I threw myself onto the soft sofa, picking up my phone to reply to the flood of congratulatory messages. My finger paused over one specific name. The last message was from half a month ago. Back then, we had a massive blowout. Exhausted to my core, I sat in the passenger seat and said calmly, “Let’s break up, Carter.” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, the veins bulging on his forehead. Through gritted teeth, he spat, “Impossible. Don’t even think about it.” I smiled—warmly, but cruelly. “I’ve already humiliated you like this. Do you really want to keep going?” He whipped his head to look at me, breathing heavily. It took him a few seconds to calm down. “Serena, what exactly are you throwing a tantrum about now? I’ve been exhausted lately. Just give me some time…” The argument ended in a bitter stalemate. Neither of us was willing to be the one to back down. The doorbell and my ringtone went off at the exact same time. It was probably the same person. I sat there coldly, letting the phone and doorbell ring for ages, ignoring them completely. It wasn’t until I heard the doorknob turn that I remembered I hadn’t changed the keypad code yet. I sat on the sofa, looking toward the entryway. Covered in the dust of travel, Carter looked at me with dark, heavy eyes. The eyes are the organs of desire. His eyes used to hold nothing, caring for nothing. I was the one who dragged him down into the mortal realm, only to leave him to struggle bitterly in a sea of desire. I was much calmer than I expected. Some things just needed to be resolved properly. “It’s so late. You flew all the way from New York?” He stopped right in front of me, blocking most of the light. His dress shirt was slightly wrinkled, the sleeves still rolled up. After a moment, he sat down and rested his head heavily on my shoulder. He seemed exhausted as he sighed, “What are you throwing a tantrum for?” How much of this was real, how much of it was love? It was impossible to say. Carter, can you really not see that this game is finally reaching its end? I asked him calmly, “Are you thinking that after you get married, I’ll just be your mistress? “Carter, don’t degrade me like that. “Please.” He froze, eventually murmuring, “Just give me some time…” I cut him off. “We tried, didn’t we? Carter, I tried. But all it gave me was a broken, bleeding head. Do you really have to drag me down to crash into a brick wall one more time before you let it go?” I looked down at his ring finger and said sincerely, “Your new ring is beautiful.” Carter’s hand instantly went completely rigid. I tilted my head back, smiling at him exactly like I did when we first met. “So, can I have the ring I gave you back?” What a tragedy. A passionate, all-consuming teenage romance, ending in such mutual disappointment. When I saw Carter again at eighteen, it was at a college gala. I had been pulled in last minute as a backup dancer. I thought our first meeting was just a passing coincidence, but it was actually the beginning of a long, messy entanglement. I was wearing a pure white ballet dress, waiting off to the side. I didn’t know if he had been there all along or had just arrived. He held his cigarette out the window and called out lazily, “Little Swan?” I turned my head. The moment I saw it was him, a spark of light flared in my eyes. He let out a low chuckle. “Didn’t mistake you. It really is you.” I walked over, asking curiously, “What are you doing here?” He looked down, the wind carrying the clean, intoxicating scent of him. “I was bored. Took a walk, ended up here.” He spoke to me like he was humoring a child, but I didn’t care enough to argue. He continued to tease me, saying I owed him a meal as repayment for saving me. I came fully prepared, pulling out all my part-time job savings to take him out. He looked so incredibly expensive that I couldn’t even imagine him sitting in a greasy, rundown diner. The contrast was too jarring. But he just navigated his way through the campus and sat down at the college dining hall for a late-night snack. He barely ate. After a few bites, he put his chopsticks down, explaining to me that he had a bad stomach and couldn’t eat much. At first, I thought he was just being polite, but after we got together, I realized he had actually destroyed his own stomach. When we were together, I learned how to cook all sorts of comforting soups and porridges just to take care of his stomach issues. Whenever his pain flared up, I stayed by his side day and night, treating him like he might shatter. He would lie half-propped up in bed, his face pale, pinching my cheek with a faint smile. “Look at how tense you are. Anyone would think I had terminal cancer.” I slapped his hand away in anger, grabbing the empty bowl and storming downstairs without looking back. Carter owned several startups at the time. During the early days, like most founders, he was working himself to the bone. For a while, I genuinely believed he was just a self-made guy who started out with a little seed money from his family. I secretly rejoiced, thinking that if I just worked hard enough, the gap between us wouldn’t be that wide. After several back-and-forths, we always found an excuse to talk. By the time I realized what was happening, Carter had already embedded himself in my life. The first time I met his friends was at a notorious, exclusive club in New York. I had dressed up meticulously, wanting to leave a good impression. When Carter saw me, he looked surprised for a moment. Once we got there, I understood why. The room was divided: the men were his friends, and the women were just arm candy brought along by them. His friends treated my presence next to Carter as totally unremarkable. They threw me a single glance and went straight back to greeting him. A lot of times, making someone feel painfully insecure in a crowd doesn’t require active bullying or insults. Neglect and indifference are the sharpest weapons. A simple, dismissive glance from someone born in a different social stratosphere is enough to make your skin crawl. Clearly, Carter had no intention of introducing me. Both to his friends and to him, my role that night was probably just entertainment. When you’re young, you have too much pride. If he wasn’t going to take me seriously, I was going to make damn sure he noticed me. His friends were playing high-stakes games. I casually swirled my cocktail. “One drink, call. Show them.”

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I fell asleep reading a novel, and when I woke up, I realized I had transmigrated into the book. I had become the most despised, vicious villainess in the entire story—a girl who shared my name, Chloe. At this exact moment, I was leading a group of my delinquent lackeys, cornering the novel’s second male lead in a narrow alley: Liam. Pushed against the brick wall, the boy wore a faded gray school hoodie. He was lean and stood tall, his messy black hair falling forward to slightly obscure his eyes. A dark bruise on the left corner of his mouth stood out starkly against his pale skin. Yet, he remained silent and stubborn, his narrow, dark eyes looking at me with freezing indifference. My legs turned to jelly. Of all the moments to transmigrate, it had to be now! The novel was a cliché, melodramatic mess. Liam had secretly loved the female lead for years, but because he came from a poor family and was deaf in his right ear, he buried his feelings deep in his heart, choosing to protect her from the shadows. And I—Chloe—was a spoiled, arrogant rich girl who lusted after his looks and harassed him relentlessly. After he publicly rejected my confession, I brought my crew to corner him. That wasn’t the main issue. The main issue was that today, his grandmother was going to suffer a sudden hypertensive crisis. Because I delayed him from going home, he wouldn’t be able to get her to the hospital in time, and she would pass away. From that day forward, Liam hated me to his core. Years later, after discovering I was still bullying the female lead, the now highly-successful, ruthless billionaire Liam used an iron fist to bankrupt my family and send me straight to prison. …And today was the pivotal turning point of it all! Looking at the boy’s face right in front of me, I knew that if I leaned in just an inch closer, our lips would touch. Remembering my tragic, horrific ending in the book, my legs went weak, and I stumbled a step back. “Hey? Chloe, what’s wrong?” The crowd of lackeys started jeering. “You haven’t even kissed him yet!” I gritted my teeth and put on a bored, unamused expression. “Forcing it is boring. One day, he’ll be begging to kiss me.” As my words fell, the group erupted into raucous laughter and cheers. “You tell ’em, Chloe!” Liam’s expression remained calm and distant, as if he didn’t even register these people or this situation in his eyes. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked out of the alley. Seeing his lean silhouette disappear at the intersection, I turned around, getting ready to leave as well. But after two steps, the thought of his grandmother weighed heavily on my mind. I couldn’t just let it go. My foot stepped on something hard. I looked down. This looked like… Liam’s student ID? I snatched it up, hastily bid my crew goodbye, hopped into my family’s chauffeured car, and immediately told the driver to turn around and head straight for Liam’s house. I value my life very much! Please, let nothing go wrong! Chapter 1 The car pulled up to a dilapidated, rundown apartment complex. I practically leaped out of the vehicle and immediately spotted Liam walking up ahead. Sensing something, he turned his head and looked back. Seeing it was me, his brows knitted together, and his voice was ice-cold: “Why are you here?” I was in such a rush to check on his grandmother’s condition that I blurted out: “Isn’t it obvious? I’m stalking you.” Liam: “…” I almost bit my own tongue off. No! Chloe, even if you’re playing the bad girl, you have to follow basic logic! I paused. Seeing his defensive, guarded posture, I figured sticking to my mean-girl persona was the safest route. I braced myself. “Since I’m already here, aren’t you going to invite me in?” Chapter 2 Liam obviously wasn’t going to agree. He just stared at me, his eyes freezing cold. I curled my lip in a sneer. “Forget it if you don’t want to. Do you really think I care?” I turned around and got back into the car. Only when I told the driver to pull up to the intersection did I watch in the rearview mirror as Liam walked down the narrow alleyway leading to his building. “Mr. Miller, drive slowly.” I silently counted the seconds in my head. Ten minutes later, a frantic commotion erupted from the alleyway. I could hear some neighbor lady yelling in a panic: “Call 911! Hurry!” My chance! I rolled down the window and looked back: “Liam!” The boy looked up in stunned disbelief. … “Good thing you got her here in time! If you had been twenty minutes later, the patient’s condition would have been critical!” Hearing the doctor’s words, the heavy rock suspended in my heart finally plummeted to the ground. Okay, okay! I had safely navigated through this death flag! I happily skipped over to the billing department to pay her hospital deposit. Surely this would offset at least a fraction of the heinous crimes the original Chloe had committed against Liam, right? The Chloe in the book was a spoiled, headstrong rich girl doted on by her parents. Even though she was only a senior in high school, her bank account balance was staggering. Compared to me, who grew up in the foster system before transmigrating, she was living like royalty. Especially since this money was buying my literal survival, spending it didn’t hurt my heart at all. When I walked back, I saw Liam stepping out of the hospital room, leaning against the wall with his head slightly bowed. It was already dark outside. The hospital corridor smelled strongly of antiseptic, and the harsh fluorescent lights cast shadows over the boy’s thin frame. I couldn’t help but sigh internally. Honestly, with a face like that, who wouldn’t be completely mesmerized? No wonder the original Chloe had been insanely, obsessively in love with him. As if sensing something, Liam turned his head and looked my way. I walked over. “I already paid your grandmother’s hospital deposit.” Liam pressed his thin lips together. It took him a long while to speak. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back as soon as possible.” Liam’s family was dirt poor, and he was just a high school senior about to take his final exams and apply for college. Where was he supposed to get the money? His grades were easily Ivy League level. Unfortunately, in the original story, he was so derailed by his grandmother’s tragedy that he bombed his final exams and missed out on his dream school. …Oh, wait. That was my fault too. There were only three months left until graduation. No matter what, I had to make sure he took his exams in peace! But Liam was incredibly stubborn. Who knew what dangerous things he might do to scrape together the money to pay me back? Thinking of this, I raised an eyebrow. “No need. To pay me back, you can just be my private tutor.” Liam clearly hadn’t expected me to say that. His dark eyes widened in astonishment. …I couldn’t blame him. The original Chloe had probably never even opened a textbook. I lifted my chin arrogantly. “From now on, you’ll do my homework for me. On top of that, you’ll tutor me three times a week, no less than an hour per session. How about it? Got a problem with that?” In just two sentences, I perfectly showcased my ulterior motive of wanting to spend time alone with him. Sure enough, hearing this, Liam’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. I threw more fuel on the fire, stepping closer with a sly smile, whispering, “Or, you can just pay me back with your body and be my boyfriend.” Liam instinctively leaned back, putting distance between us, a faint trace of cold hostility flashing in his eyes. Weighing the two options, he obviously knew which one to choose. “Fine. Friday to Sunday, nine PM, at the public study hall.” … I was incredibly satisfied. However, that good mood came to a screeching halt the second I walked into my classroom the next day. “Did you hear? Chloe confessed to Liam yesterday and got brutally rejected! It’s so funny. Has she looked in a mirror? Why would a guy like Liam ever like someone like her?” Chapter 3 As the words fell, the group of girls gathered around the desk burst into mocking laughter. One of them had sharp eyes and spotted me. Her face instantly drained of color, and she frantically shoved the arm of the girl who was talking. The laughter died instantly. The entire classroom became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “Ch-Chloe, you’re here?” One of the girls whispered, her face pale with panic. Sigh. It was obvious my notorious reputation preceded me. I didn’t even have to say a word; just standing here was enough to terrify them. I ignored them, walking down the aisle to my seat in the very back row, lazily tossing my backpack onto the desk. Thud. The classroom grew even quieter. “Chloe? Mrs. Davis wants to see you.” A guy standing at the classroom door called out. Me: “…” Dammit! How could I forget? After I cornered Liam yesterday, someone snitched to the teachers, which originally resulted in me having to read a humiliating public apology at the morning assembly! Even though I hadn’t exactly been an honor roll student in my past life, I was at least well-behaved and never caused trouble. Thinking of the impending storm, my face crumpled into a grimace. But as I walked out the door, I ran right into Liam. He had a band-aid over the bruise on the corner of his mouth. I only gave him a fleeting glance before heading toward the faculty office, asking the guy who called me, “What does she want with me?” The guy stammered, “…I don’t really know. You’ll find out when you get there.” The moment I stepped away, the classroom erupted into chaotic murmurs again. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw a girl with a high ponytail standing in front of Liam. She was the very definition of pure and gentle. With just one look, I knew she was the female lead: Mia. I vaguely heard her asking softly, “Liam, are you hurt?” To Liam, Mia was the single ray of light in his dark, dreary life. He was willing to give everything for her, asking for nothing in return, as long as she was okay. Just like right now—Liam seemed to glance in my direction for a split second, then quickly withdrew his gaze and shook his head lightly at her. He had been bullied and cornered, but he couldn’t bear to let Mia worry about him. Then I thought about my current situation— “Chloe, do you know why I called you here?” In the faculty office, our forty-something homeroom teacher, Mrs. Davis, looked furious. I shook my head. Mrs. Davis’s brow furrowed tightly, and she raised her voice. “Someone reported that after school yesterday, you and your friends bullied Liam. Is this true?” Even though it was true, I would take that secret to my grave! I braced myself. “No.” “Really? No?” “Really, no.” “Chloe!” Mrs. Davis’s face turned even uglier. She slammed her hand against her desk. “Even now, you’re still lying to my face!” It was obvious she didn’t call me here to ask for my side of the story. She wouldn’t believe a single punctuation mark that came out of my mouth. Makes sense. What teacher would believe a delinquent mean girl who constantly skipped class? “This Monday at the morning assembly, you will stand up there and read a public apology!” I struggled. “Mrs. Davis, I really didn’t do it.” Mrs. Davis sneered. “Still denying it? Fine. If you can find someone to prove your innocence, I’ll believe you!” Me: “…” Imagining my crew of edgy, rebellious lackeys standing in the faculty office to act as my character witnesses made my vision go dark. Looks like I really couldn’t escape this one. I closed my eyes, saying desperately, “…Nobody can prove my innoc—” Knock, knock. Someone knocked on the open door. A cool, distant voice floated in. “Mrs. Davis.” I turned around in shock. Liam. His dark eyes were completely calm. “I can prove her innocence.” Chapter 4 Never in a million years did I expect the person to step up and save me to be Liam. But hearing this, Mrs. Davis’s frown deepened. She glanced at me, then raised her voice to speak to Liam: “Liam, if someone is threatening you, don’t worry. The school and the faculty will protect you.” Me: “…” Liam shook his head, his expression serene. “No one is threatening me.” Mrs. Davis asked again, “Then why did some students say they saw you two together after school yesterday?” Liam paused, then explained, “She had some questions about our coursework that she didn’t understand. She wanted to ask if I had time to tutor her.” Now, Mrs. Davis’s eyes practically popped out of her head. “What?” She looked at me, her eyes brimming with suspicion. Honestly, any teacher hearing this would think they were losing their mind. But Liam had already laid down the perfect excuse. It would be rude of me not to play along. I quickly concocted a lie, lowered my head, and spoke with a devastated tone: “Yes. My parents are talking about divorce right now. I thought if I could get my grades up, they might be so happy they’d change their minds.” Sorry, Mom and Dad! I owe you one! In reality, my dad was a self-made millionaire who married my mom for one simple reason: she was stunning. And when she nearly died giving birth to me, they decided one child was enough. As their only daughter, I was spoiled absolutely rotten. Mrs. Davis’s expression grew incredibly complicated. It took her a long moment before she finally said to Liam: “Helping a classmate is a good thing, but finals are coming up. Don’t let this drag down your own grades.” I wasn’t offended. With my current academic standing, there wasn’t much room for me to drag anyone down anyway. The moment I stepped out of the office, I let out a massive sigh of relief. “Chloe? How did it go? Mrs. Davis didn’t give you a hard time, did she?” A guy with a buzzcut suddenly popped up. I squinted and recognized him as Tyler, one of my lackeys from yesterday. Noticing Liam standing next to me, Tyler instantly went on high alert, stepping between us and glaring viciously. “Did you snitch on Chloe to the teacher?!” Liam’s expression was indifferent. Without saying a single word, he bypassed Tyler and kept walking. “Hey! You—” Seeing this idiot about to blow up, I quickly grabbed his arm. “Tyler! Shut your mouth!” You’re offending the future billionaire who could crush me like a bug! You get to act like a tough guy, but Liam’s gonna put all that resentment on my tab! Tyler looked skeptical but, seeing how serious I was, backed down. He scratched his head and grinned, holding out a drink. “Chloe, your favorite! Taro bubble tea!” I took it. “Thanks.” Tyler asked, “Hey, Chloe, we booked a table at the pool hall tonight. You coming?” I hesitated. Honestly, I didn’t want to go. I wasn’t the real Chloe. But if I changed my personality completely overnight, people would definitely get suspicious. Liam suddenly glanced back over his shoulder in our direction. A lightbulb went off in my head. “Why would I go? I have actual important business tonight.” Tyler looked confused. “What important business?” I took a sip of my boba and said slowly: “Attending study hall.” Tyler’s jaw dropped. “No way, Chloe? You don’t even go to regular classes, and now you want to go to study hall?” I kicked him in the shin. “What do you know! This study hall is way more important than you guys!” This is my golden opportunity to suck up to Liam! Anyone who stops me is dead meat! Liam withdrew his gaze, looking as though he had heard me, but also as if he didn’t care at all. I hurried to catch up with him. “Liam! Today is Friday. You promised to tutor me, don’t forget!” Liam didn’t say anything. Remembering he was deaf in his right ear, I leaned in closer to his left side and confirmed, “Hello? You can’t back out now!” Liam finally gave a slight nod. “Yeah.”

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My mom got pregnant with a little brother. When we went to the hospital for a checkup, we found out he had Jacobs Syndrome. Everyone told my mom to terminate the pregnancy. My mom cried and refused to give him up. I asked her what Jacobs Syndrome meant. She told me, “It means your brother is going to be the manliest of men. He’s going to protect you.” I half-understood, until the year my brother turned seven, and he repeatedly smashed a brick into my mother’s head. I think I finally understood what she meant by “the manliest of men.” 1 When I was six years old, my mom got pregnant. Once she was far enough along, my parents secretly paid someone to find out the gender. When my mom heard it was a boy, she was overjoyed. Even though my dad always said having me, his sweet little girl, was enough, having a son had always been my mom’s ultimate wish. Until the amniocentesis results came back, and everything changed. They said my unborn brother had an XYY chromosome pattern. The legendary “Super Male Syndrome.” I was eavesdropping outside the door. My dad was desperately trying to convince my mom to give it up. “Let it go. Having Lily is enough for us! The doctor even said kids like this have strong antisocial tendencies in the future. We can’t raise a child like that.” Tears streamed down my mom’s face. She shook her head, clutching her stomach. “No, I can’t bear it. Look how big the baby already is. Are you really going to end your child’s life over one thing a doctor said?” My dad hesitated, his brows furrowed tightly. My mom said firmly, “Didn’t we raise Lily perfectly? I believe this child will be fine too. As long as we educate him properly…” My dad was so frustrated he was left speechless. He went to the balcony to smoke alone, leaving my mom crying with red eyes. I crept closer and asked, “Mommy, what does Super Male mean?” My mom looked at me sadly, thought for a moment, and said, “It means your brother is going to be the manliest of men. He’s going to protect his big sister.” I hesitated. “Will you only love my brother and not love me anymore?” My mom stroked my head. “How could that happen? Mommy loves you the most.” I smiled. A few months later, my brother was born. Everyone who saw him praised how beautiful he was. Big eyes, pale skin—he looked like an angel baby from a painting. Whenever someone complimented him, my mom swelled with pride. She’d say, How could such an adorable baby ever be violent? She vowed to spend her entire life loving him. Wrapped in my mom’s protective love, my brother slowly grew. He started babbling in a cute baby voice and began to express his emotions. It’s just that his way of expressing emotions was a little different from other kids. If he didn’t like the carefully prepared baby food, he would just smack the bowl onto the floor. If his toy car ran out of battery and stopped moving, he would fly into a rage, violently stomping and smashing the car against the floor. He was only happy once the toy was completely pulverized. He had an extreme desire to destroy. Toys in our house never survived past the second day. When he ran out of toys to destroy, he’d move on to other things. It was as if destroying things brought him infinite joy. No matter how my dad tried to discipline him, it was useless. My mom, however, stuck to positive reinforcement. “Good job, sweetie! Our baby is so strong!” I felt wronged. I went to complain to my mom. “Why do you hit me when I break something, but you never hit my brother?” My mom sighed. “Your brother is different. We have to guide him gently. Lily, you’re the older sister, you need to be understanding.” I didn’t understand. It was blatant favoritism. 2 To cultivate a gentler temperament in my brother, my mom bought each of us a pet rabbit. She smiled warmly. “You have to treat the bunnies well, okay? They are living things too.” My brother stroked the bunny’s ears, nodding as if he couldn’t put it down. But the next morning, when my mom went to change the cabbage leaves in the cages, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. I rushed onto the balcony. The bunny my brother was taking care of had been sliced open and killed. Its intestines had spilled out all over the bottom of the cage. Meanwhile, the bunny in my cage had its ears pinned back, trembling violently in the corner. My brother stood behind my mom with a huge smile, holding his arms up to be carried. “Mommy, I want another bunny!” I hugged my bunny tightly to my chest, shivering. Ever since my brother was born, all my parents’ energy had gone to him. Even my grandma came all the way from out of town specifically to help take care of him. He became the center of our entire family’s universe. I had to admit, most of the time he didn’t look any different from other little boys. He had a sweet smile, liked eating snacks, and loved watching cartoons. But this bright, cheerful boy could turn into a demon the very next second. Once, my grandma simply told him he couldn’t have a snack before dinner. He bit down hard on her arm and refused to let go, exactly like a wild jackal. No matter who tried to pull him off, his jaws stayed locked. Another time, I was just sitting there watching cartoons. As my mom carried him to the balcony, he casually grabbed the TV remote and hurled it straight at my head. Blood streamed down my face, and he smiled with pure delight. When he finally reached preschool age, my parents spent a ton of energy and money to enroll him in a daycare that specialized in early childhood mental health and development. But not long after, the teachers called my parents in. The reason: an older kid in the pre-K class had bullied him, making fun of him for being skinny and small. I don’t know where he learned it, but during nap time, while the teacher stepped out to use the restroom, he sneaked into the pre-K nap room, used a lighter to set the bedsheets on fire, sprinted out, and locked the door from the outside. If the teacher hadn’t come back when she did, the consequences would have been catastrophic. Even the teachers were horrified. “Does your child watch violent cartoons at home? I’ve never seen a kid act like this! It’s terrifying!” Under pressure from the other parents, my brother was expelled. My parents bowed, apologized endlessly, and paid a massive settlement just to make it go away. As my parents were bowing and apologizing, my brother stood to the side, biting his fingernails, giggling. The teacher asked him what was so funny. He said, “I wanted to burn you all to death!” My dad’s face went ghost white. He slapped my brother across the face right in front of everyone. My brother fell to the ground. He started bawling. The bystanders watched coldly. My mom was the only one who threw herself onto the ground to hug him. “Mommy is so sorry! It’s all Mommy’s fault!” 3 My parents had a massive blowout argument. My dad was screaming in the bedroom. “We never should have kept him! He’s a monster!” My mom pointed a finger in his face, screaming back hysterically, “Even if he is a monster, he’s your flesh and blood! And he’s already born! What’s the point of saying this now?!” My dad wanted to argue back but couldn’t find the words. He left my mom crying alone in the room. My mom tried desperately to send him to other preschools, but he either bullied the little girls—cutting off their braids—or bullied the younger boys, shoving their heads into the toilets and forcing them to drink the water. When he saw a teacher who was seven months pregnant, he actually told the other kids he wanted to kick her hard in the stomach. And later, he actually did it. When the pregnant teacher was walking to the bathroom, he sneaked up and tripped her. She lost her balance and fell forward. If someone nearby hadn’t caught her in time, the outcome would have been unthinkable. The teacher’s husband caused a massive scene. He demanded the preschool pay for emotional distress and demanded to know why my brother was so purely malicious at such a young age. The principal had no choice. She refunded our tuition and practically begged my mom, “Please, take your child and go. Our little school can’t handle him! I’ve been running preschools for thirty years, and I’ve never seen a child like this!” Neither my dad’s anger nor my mom’s pleading worked. Eventually, my mom gave up. She had my grandma watch him at home until he was old enough for elementary school. As the only grandson in the family, my grandma doted on him. She gave him whatever he wanted. Because of her age, her legs weren’t great, making stairs difficult. But even so, she would gladly walk to the grocery store every single day to buy whatever food he wanted to eat. One day, just as my grandma was heading out for groceries, the moment she reached the top of the stairs, I saw my brother charge out with a wicked grin and violently shove her from behind. The grocery basket tumbled down the steps, followed immediately by the sickening thud of my grandma’s body rolling down the stairs. My brother clapped his hands and laughed. His laughter echoed through the entire stairwell. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. After that, my grandma was paralyzed. My dad slapped my brother like a madman. He looked like he wanted to kill him. My mom cried and clung to his legs, screaming, “He’s just a child!” My dad roared, “That is not a child! That’s a monster!” He slumped into a chair, muttering to himself, “We should have aborted him. We should have aborted him back then.” My brother glared at him with pure hatred. I was the only one who walked over to my dad. I told him not to be sad, that Grandma would get better. My dad hugged me tight, tears suddenly falling from his eyes. When I got home from the hospital, I was in a great mood. I hummed a song while feeding my bunny some lettuce. My poor bunny was still traumatized from seeing its companion killed; it shivered whenever someone came near. I shoved the lettuce against its mouth. “Eat it.” The bunny wouldn’t open its mouth. “Why aren’t you eating?” Finally, I opened the cage, and personally watched the lettuce go into the bunny’s stomach before I left, satisfied. 4 After Grandma was paralyzed, there was another person in the house who needed constant care. To prevent any more “accidents,” my mom quit her job to stay home and look after my brother and Grandma. No one knew why my brother pushed her, but according to him, he just thought it would be fun. That was how he always operated. Seeing other people suffer was fun to him. His happiness was only real if it was built on someone else’s pain. After being betrayed by her precious grandson, Grandma’s attitude completely changed. She stopped talking to him and finally started realizing my worth. Whenever she had something good to eat, she would call me over and save it for me. She didn’t give my brother a single second of her time. My brother caught us talking and sharing snacks a few times. He stared at us with a dark, sinister look. “What are you guys doing?” We stayed silent. He turned around and went back to watching cartoons. I let out a sigh of relief. But I underestimated my brother. He held grudges better than anyone. How could he just let it go? Not long after, on a day when Grandma was taking a nap, my mom and I went to the supermarket. My mom told him, “Stay out of the kitchen, and wait nicely for us to come back, understand?” He smiled sweetly and agreed. An hour later, when we got back and opened the door, we were immediately hit by the smell of smoke. My mom’s face went pale in horror. She threw the door open to find the apartment filled with smoke. She screamed his name like a madwoman. My brother was in the living room, completely unharmed. But when I went to look for Grandma, I realized the smoke was pouring out of her bedroom. Grandma was still lying in bed. I covered my nose and yelled, “Grandma! Grandma, get up!” She didn’t answer. I yelled a few more times. My mom rushed in, shaking her. “Mom! Mom! What’s wrong? Mom!” Grandma remained lifeless. As the smoke cleared slightly, I could faintly see her lips were turning purple. My mom reached out with a trembling finger to check her breathing. Two seconds later, she let out a piercing scream and collapsed onto the floor. Grandma was dead. 5 Soon, police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks completely surrounded our building. The paramedics pulled a white sheet over Grandma’s body. The firefighters looked at the floor, covered in shredded firecracker paper, and let out a long sigh. The mattress was flipped over, and the space under the bed was charred black. A firefighter told the police, “Preliminary findings suggest the child lit a string of firecrackers in the room. The elderly woman was asleep at the time. The shock likely triggered a fatal heart attack.” A police officer frowned and turned to my mom. “Leaving a child home alone is bad enough, but how could you leave firecrackers where he could easily reach them? Do you have absolutely zero common sense as a parent?” My mom hadn’t even recovered from the shock yet. She stuttered, “I… I didn’t know. There were no firecrackers in the house…” The police looked at my mom in disbelief. Meanwhile, my brother sat on the sofa like nothing happened, sucking on a lollipop and giggling as people rushed in and out. Someone glanced at him and whispered, “Look at that kid. His grandma just died and he’s sitting there laughing.” But they didn’t know. My brother didn’t have a heart to begin with. When Grandma’s body was wheeled past me, my nose started to sting. Even though she had only been nice to me toward the very end, those were still unforgettable memories. Just then, my dad rushed through the door, just in time to see Grandma’s body being loaded into the ambulance. He leaned against the doorframe, his legs gave out, and he slowly slid down to the floor. My mom stood defensively in front of my brother. She said weakly, “You… you need to calm down. Your mom was over seventy, and her heart was already bad.” My dad had already gotten the news before he arrived. He stared dead at my brother, a bottomless well of hatred surging in his eyes. Suddenly, he let out a roar, violently shoved my mom to the floor, grabbed his heavy leather briefcase, and swung it directly at my brother’s head. The briefcase slammed into him, knocking my brother to the floor. Blood from his nose stained the floorboards red. My mom screamed hoarsely, clinging to my dad’s legs. “It was just an accident! It was an accident!” My dad dragged my mom up off the floor and roared, “Get the hell away from me!” Seeing the situation spiraling out of control, the police quickly pulled my dad away. “It already happened. Please calm down! You didn’t discipline your child when it mattered, and now that someone is dead, you want to beat him?” The firefighter quickly added, “Exactly. If this had started a structural fire, could you take responsibility for the casualties of the entire building?” My brother used the distraction to sprint back into his room. When he came back out, he was holding the remaining string of firecrackers. Right in front of all of us, he lit the fuse and hurled it straight at my dad. “I’m going to blow you all up!” The firecrackers exploded in a deafening, crackling roar, filling the room with thick smoke again. Everyone just stared at my brother in dead silence. He was a monster. 6 Grandma’s death was officially ruled an accidental death. After taking care of the funeral arrangements, the house was left in ruins. After that day, my dad never spoke a single word to my brother again. He acted like he didn’t exist, and barely spoke to my mom either. After Grandma was cremated, my dad stood holding her urn and said coldly to my mom, “Let’s get a divorce.” This time, there was no explosive argument. I don’t know when, but my brother suddenly appeared behind me. He whispered, “Grandma’s dead. I thought you’d be happy.” A violent chill ran down my spine. I snapped, “What are you talking about? Why would I be happy that Grandma died?” He didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, unblinking. The next morning, my dad had already packed his bags. My mom was leaning against the headboard in the bedroom, her eyes red from crying. He left all the money and the house to my mom and voluntarily gave up custody of both of us. Right before he left, I cried and asked him, “Dad, are you really leaving?” My dad smiled bitterly. “Be a good girl, Lily. I know you’re the most sensible one. You need to take good care of your mom from now on. If anything happens, call me.” I sobbed, “If I’m so sensible, then please don’t go!” My dad sighed. “Lily, it’s not your fault. It’s all my fault. I never should have gotten married and had kids. I was never capable of living a normal life, and now I’ve ruined so many people’s lives.” With that, he grabbed his suitcase and walked out the door without looking back. From that moment on, it was just the three of us left in the house. Because I had promised my dad, I worked even harder. I scored exceptionally high on my middle school entrance exams and got into the best public middle school in the city. Because of the arson incident, every elementary school in our district was terrified of my brother. Seeing that no school was willing to accept him, my mom came up with a plan. She legally changed his name and we moved to a completely different school district. After all the chaos, she finally managed to get him enrolled just before September. My mom had aged visibly in those few months. The divorce hit her incredibly hard, but she still refused to give up on my brother. She always hoped her love could somehow change him. But my brother used his actions to prove to her that some kids are just born evil. They can never be changed.

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At fourteen, my family suffered a tragic accident, and my fiancé’s family took me in. Carter Hayes was seven years older than me. He was always polite, yet distinctly distant. When I started working and was preparing to move into my own apartment, he suddenly spoke up: “You’re twenty-four now. It’s about time we got married.” 1 Walking out of the courthouse, my brain was still buzzing. Just like that, we were married. Living under the same roof for eight years, Carter’s attitude toward me had always been polite, maybe even a little aloof. I was actually a bit intimidated by him, always treating him with the cautious respect you’d give a strict older brother. I always assumed the “engagement” arranged by our parents years ago was just a joke. Add in the fact that my family had lost everything and the massive disparity in our social statuses, and I never took it seriously. The night before I was supposed to move out, Carter suddenly knocked on my bedroom door. His eyes were calm, his voice cool: “You’re twenty-four now. It’s about time we got married.” I froze, then dumbly nodded. “Are you free this Wednesday? Let’s go to the courthouse.” I pressed my lips together, speechless. “You don’t have to reject me right away. I can give you a week to think about it.” “I’m free,” I blurted out. After he closed the door, it took me a long time to process what had just happened. It was absolutely insane. But thinking about it logically, Carter was the perfect catch: handsome, constantly in the gym, financially secure, and emotionally stable. It was just that I had never viewed our relationship in that light before, and I couldn’t switch roles in my head that fast. Getting the marriage license felt rushed, and we hadn’t even told his parents yet. “Can we wait a little while before telling your mom and dad about this?” I asked. “I just started a new job and I’m really overwhelmed. I don’t think I can handle the family drama right now.” “That’s fine,” he said. “But I’m keeping the marriage certificate.” “Thank you.” Carter went to get the car, and I stood on the sidewalk waiting. When we signed the papers, a promotional health booth outside the courthouse had handed us a goodie bag. I hadn’t checked what was inside. Opening it now, I found ten boxes of condoms and three bottles of prenatal vitamins. My face instantly burned scarlet. The bag suddenly felt like it was on fire. There was a trash can nearby, and I marched over, ready to toss it. If Mr. and Mrs. Hayes saw this at home, I wouldn’t be able to explain it to save my life. “What are you throwing away? That’s a waste.” Carter had pulled the car up without me noticing. He stepped out and opened the passenger door, startling me so badly I dropped the bag on the pavement. Carter leaned down and picked up the boxes. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as his voice dropped an octave: “I’ll keep these at my downtown apartment. Get in the car.” The air grew thick with awkwardness. I coughed lightly and nodded. Sitting in the passenger seat, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My face was as red as a tomato. I silently gave myself a pep talk: You’re married now. Some things are bound to happen eventually. Stop being a prude. When we pulled into the driveway of the Hayes estate, he didn’t get out. “Aren’t you coming in?” I asked. Ever since graduating college, Carter had lived in his own luxury apartment and rarely stayed at the family estate. “I need to head back to change clothes. I’ll be over this afternoon.” Carter was dressed in a sharp black suit today. To match him, I had deliberately worn a white dress this morning. We looked like we were wearing matching couple outfits. “Okay, see you later then.” 2 I was so anxious last night that I barely slept, so I ended up napping all afternoon before finally heading downstairs. Carter was already back, sitting in the living room playing chess with his dad, Mr. Hayes. Hearing my footsteps, he looked up. Our eyes met. Staring into his deep, dark eyes, I felt a sudden wave of guilt and softly called out, “Hey.” Carter gave a faint nod, looked away, and went back to his chess game. I went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, but Mrs. Hayes stopped me: “Harper, honey! Come have some fruit.” “I bought your absolute favorite: blue cheese and crackers.” Mr. Hayes chimed in from the living room, “Doesn’t your son absolutely despise the smell of blue cheese? Why did you buy so much of it today? We’ll never finish it.” “Didn’t you say it was your favorite? I bought it specifically for you,” she shot back. “Nonsense. You can’t even remember my favorite dessert. Harper is the only one in this house who actually likes that stinky cheese.” Maybe I was just too nervous, but when I took a bite of the cheese, I couldn’t taste a thing. I was terrified Mrs. Hayes would notice something was off. “Harper, are you seeing anyone lately?” Like clockwork, the older generation always had to check in on my love life. “You should start putting yourself out there. Don’t spend all your time focused on work. Don’t end up like Carter—he’s in his thirties and doesn’t even have a girlfriend.” I nodded, offering a polite, noncommittal smile. “Come look at these guys. I picked out a few handsome young men at the gala last week. Good-looking, great personalities—whatever your type is, I’ve got it.” From the living room, Carter’s gaze drifted over. I avoided his eyes, picking up my glass to take a tactical sip of water. Mrs. Hayes smiled warmly. “It’s a shame Carter is so old and always has that icy look on his face. He doesn’t know how to treat a woman right. If only you two could be together, that would be perfect.” Cough, cough! My hand shook, and I nearly choked on my water. Mrs. Hayes quickly patted my back. “Oh, don’t be scared! I’m just joking around. I’d never force you to marry that grumpy brat.” “Now, do any of these guys catch your eye?” She shoved a stack of photos into my hands. Suddenly, Carter stood up from the chessboard. His voice was perfectly even: “What do you want for dinner? I’ll cook.” But as he spoke, his eyes were locked dead on me. I quickly lowered my gaze, pretending to study the photos of the blind dates. 3 Carter was an incredible cook. The spread of garlic butter shrimp, creamy corn chowder, slow-roasted beef brisket, and roasted asparagus was enough to make anyone’s mouth water. Following our usual seating arrangement, Carter sat directly across from me. I usually ate like a vacuum cleaner, but today I found myself subconsciously acting demure, taking small, elegant bites. I was so focused on eating my rice that I forgot to grab any of the main dishes. My favorite corn chowder was sitting a bit too far away. I glanced at it several times, but after hesitating, I didn’t want to stand up and reach for it. “Harper, you’re barely eating today,” Mrs. Hayes noted. “I’m just not very hungry tonight.” Carter seemed to read my mind perfectly. He ladled a bowl of the corn chowder and placed it right in front of me. “You haven’t touched the soup. Drink up. It won’t taste as good tomorrow.” My spine stiffened. His parents didn’t notice anything unusual, continuing their conversation about some neighbor’s new grandchild. I let out a long breath and whispered, “Thank you.” Because I didn’t eat enough at dinner, I woke up in the middle of the night starving. I grabbed my phone, turned on the flashlight, and tiptoed down to the kitchen to raid the fridge. There were only leftovers and raw ingredients. I sighed and prepared to head back to my room. Suddenly, there was someone standing right behind me. Carter had clearly just showered. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a matching t-shirt, his damp black hair falling over his forehead, his eyes dark and deep. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I patted my chest to calm down. “Jeez, you scared me.” “Didn’t eat enough at dinner?” “A little.” He pursed his lips. “Go wait in your room. I’ll heat up some tortellini.” I went back upstairs, used the bathroom, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair was a bird’s nest, and my pajamas were wrinkled. I had worn this oversized cartoon t-shirt for all three years of grad school. It was faded, and the collar was stretched out. I loved the character on it, so I never threw it away. Mrs. Hayes would occasionally buy me new clothes, so I dug through my closet, found a brand-new silk pajama set, and changed into it. Looking in the mirror again, I looked much cleaner and far more put-together. A knock sounded at the door. I walked over and opened it. “Hey.” He gave a soft “Mhm,” his gaze lingering on my body for a fraction of a second before quickly looking away. I reached out to take the bowl from him. “It’s hot. I’ll carry it,” he said. Carter set the bowl on my desk and handed me a fork. “I’m flying to Paris tomorrow for a business trip. Is there anything you want me to bring back?” I sat down, shoved a piece of tortellini into my mouth, and mumbled, “Nope.” The pasta was literally steaming. The moment I bit down, it felt like the roof of my mouth was peeling off. I winced in agony. But with Carter standing right there, my pride wouldn’t let me spit it out. I just sat there, panicking about whether to swallow molten lava or spit it out like a toddler. “Spit it out.” Long, elegant fingers offered me a tissue. I froze, staring at him with teary, confused eyes. “Spit it out. No one is going to steal your food.” I wanted to defend myself, but swallowed my words and spit the pasta into the tissue. Carter grabbed another tissue and roughly wiped my face. My defensive instincts flared. “What are you doing?” The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. “You had drool on your chin.” My face instantly burned bright red, but at least it wasn’t a runny nose. Carter sighed, his voice softening unconsciously. “Harper, you don’t need to be so tense.” I swallowed hard, looking up at him. “Is it really that obvious?” I felt like I had been acting neurotic all day, terrified his parents would find out. And whenever I faced Carter, there was a subtle, bizarre shift in my brain that made me act totally unnatural. He nodded. “Like when?” “Usually you eat two bowls of rice at dinner. Tonight you only ate half a bowl…” “…” My cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I just… I just need a little time to adjust.” His voice was slow and steady: “Take all the time you need.” As he was about to close the door and leave, he paused. “Did you change into new pajamas?” I bit my lip. “My old ones got a little wet.” “They look good on you.” 4 When I came down for breakfast the next morning, Carter was already gone. His business trip was going to last two weeks. Combine that with how incredibly busy I was at my new job, and I practically forgot I was a married woman. Friday evening, my coworkers dragged me out for drinks. Someone handed me a cocktail, and after downing it, my face flushed bright red. Walking home, I couldn’t stop scratching my face and neck. I felt impossibly itchy and uncomfortable. I had rushed out the door this morning and forgotten my keys. I rang the doorbell, and the door swung open. A tall figure stood in the entryway. The top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone, and his face was sharp and handsome. I was completely stunned. My brain short-circuited. Why was Carter answering the door at this hour? Wasn’t he on a business trip? Even when he was in town, he rarely stayed at the estate. “Carter?” I asked awkwardly. He nodded, looking down at me. “Have you been drinking?” I nodded, my voice a little raspy. “Just one drink.” My neck was so itchy it was begging to be scratched. His expression instantly turned serious, his tone dropping. “Don’t you know you have an alcohol allergy?” I shook my head. I had barely ever touched alcohol. In college, I took one sip of cheap beer, hated the taste, and spit it out. Just as I reached up to scratch my neck, he grabbed my wrist. His voice was heavy. “You’re going to scar your face.” “Go wash your face with cold water to bring the temperature down. I’ll go find some antihistamines.” I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw an unnatural red flush across my cheeks, and a massive red rash spreading across my collarbone. Because I had been scratching so aggressively earlier, I had actually broken the skin in a few places. Thank God it wasn’t on my face. He walked into the bathroom holding a pill and a glass of water, plus a tube of hydrocortisone cream. “Swallow this first. Then apply this cream to stop the itching.” I was wearing a button-up blouse today. To make it easier to apply the cream, I unbuttoned the top two buttons, exposing a large patch of skin. His eyes darkened, and he politely turned his back to me. Once the cream was on, the itching subsided significantly. I buttoned up my shirt and straightened my collar. My voice was a little dry when I asked, “When did you get back?” “I flew in this afternoon. I texted you.” I frowned. He texted me? Why didn’t I get a notification? I checked my phone and realized it was on ‘Do Not Disturb’. I had a million work messages, and Carter’s text was buried near the bottom, easy to miss. “I was so busy I forgot to check my phone.” “Are you still feeling sick?” “I’m okay, it’s not too bad.” Silence fell, and the atmosphere grew incredibly awkward. He looked exhausted, his voice slightly gravelly: “Get some rest. If anything happens tonight, come find me. Your gift is on your desk.” My tone softened unconsciously. “Thank you. You get some rest too.” Carter’s eyes darkened, and he gave a soft “Mhm.” The allergic reaction wasn’t actually that bad, and by the time I woke up the next morning, it was completely gone. I had been so tired last night that I completely forgot to open the gift on my desk. Opening it now, I found a stunning evening gown that could also pass for upscale everyday wear, but it was incredibly eye-catching. There was also a necklace, a watch, and some other jewelry. I picked out the watch and strapped it to my wrist. The dial was a soft baby blue that complemented my skin tone perfectly. I opened my bedroom door just as the door across the hall clicked open. Carter was wearing a sharp, dark brown suit over a light blue dress shirt. His broad shoulders and tailored fit were enough to make anyone weak in the knees. His voice was cool and even: “Feeling better? Any lingering symptoms?” “I’m all good.” He glanced down at my wrist. I instinctively hid my hand behind my back. Carter didn’t say anything and just turned back into his room. … Breakfast was already prepared. I sat at the dining table, taking small bites of my oatmeal. Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Carter came down and sat directly across from me, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Mr. Hayes and Carter were discussing company business when Mr. Hayes suddenly changed the subject: “That watch you’re wearing looks awfully similar to Harper’s. I’ve never seen you wear it before.” My heart rate spiked, and I shot a panicked glance across the table. It wasn’t just “similar.” It was the exact same watch in a different size. Carter looked completely unfazed, his voice perfectly calm: “I’ve had it for a while.” I stammered through an explanation: “Uh, a friend of mine brought this back for me from Europe… I must have just accidentally bought the same one Carter has.” Mr. Hayes didn’t pry any further. Terrified that staying any longer would blow our cover, I grabbed my purse and spoke in a rushed tone. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, I’m going to be late for work! I’ve gotta run.” “Harper, have Carter drive you!” “No, no! I’ll just take my Vespa, it’s faster!” After graduation, the Hayes family had gifted me a car, but even though I had my license, I was terrified of driving. It sat in the garage collecting dust, and I commuted on a little electric Vespa. It was super convenient.

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In response to the question, “Just how powerful is the memory of a first love?”, I saw my boyfriend’s answer. “Too powerful. That’s why I proposed to her younger sister. I want to protect her under the guise of family.” I am that younger sister. But I wasn’t as devastated as you might think. Because the top-voted answer under that same question… was written by me. I have an unspeakable secret of my own. 1. The doorbell rang. At the door stood my blackout-drunk boyfriend—and fiancé. He proposed to me last week, and I said yes. Right now, his eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of alcohol. He looked like he had been crying. His buddy was holding him up. “Hey, sorry. He was just so overwhelmed with emotion about marrying you that he started crying, and then he just drank too much celebrating.” “It’s fine. Thank you for bringing him home.” The moment the door clicked shut, Liam grabbed me and pulled me into his arms. “We’re finally going to be family.” After I hauled him onto the couch and laid him down, I noticed his phone screen constantly lighting up with notifications for likes and comments. I used his fingerprint to unlock it. I discovered he had answered a question on Quora: Just how powerful is the memory of a first love? His answer read: “Too powerful. I only started pursuing her younger sister so I could have a legitimate reason to see her, and call her ‘sister.’ Now, her younger sister loves me deeply and is incredibly gentle with me, but I don’t really love her. Or rather, I don’t even know if I love her or not. My first love will always be her older sister. No one can replace her. Proposing to her younger sister is just my way of protecting her under the guise of family.” 2. I thought back to the first time I introduced him to my sister. Before I could even introduce her, he smoothly said, “Nice to meet you, sister.” I didn’t think much of it at the time. But looking back at her shocked, frozen expression, and Liam’s deeply meaningful look… The tension in the air was practically suffocating. 3. Actually, Mia isn’t my biological sister; she’s my stepmother’s daughter. She moved into my house when I started high school. She was a year ahead of me. My dad absolutely adored her. With my stepmother in favor, Mia used that leverage to constantly compete with me, practically stealing my father’s love. Whenever we were home, we clashed. It wasn’t until we grew up that our relationship somewhat eased. On the surface, we were harmonious, but underneath, the rivalry remained. Looking at it now, she won completely. I picked up the man she discarded, and worse, he was still hopelessly in love with her, treating her like his untouchable first love. I suddenly remembered the Instagram post Liam made when I accepted his proposal. I’ll become your family and protect you forever. Mia even commented underneath: Congratulations to you both. Reading his Quora answer, I finally understood the hidden meaning. Ninety percent of his answer detailed how he couldn’t let go of her after they broke up, how he stalked her social media and discovered she had a younger sister—me. And so, he started pursuing me. So that’s how it was. On the couch, Liam suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Mia, don’t leave me…” I expressionlessly yanked my hand away. What Liam didn’t know was that he wasn’t the only one who answered that question. The top-voted answer under that question, with over twenty thousand upvotes, was written by me. I had written it casually years ago and hadn’t checked it since. Honestly, it was time for me to wake up. Liam was never him to begin with. But I couldn’t leave yet. I still had unfinished business. 4. When Liam woke up the next morning. I had made breakfast, but without eating a bite, he frantically put on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and rushed to the door. I called out to him, “Weren’t we going to look at wedding dresses this morning?” He tossed back over his shoulder: “We can go this afternoon. I have something to take care of right now.” I didn’t need to ask to know who had texted him. Years ago, my sister got her wish and married into a wealthy family. But her husband treated her terribly. He was a notorious playboy with violent tendencies. Yet, she loved the money and the status, so she kept dragging her feet, refusing to get a divorce. She had posted an Instagram story this morning: “Hangovers are the worst. My head feels like it’s going to explode.” I didn’t even need to think to know who Liam was in such a rush to comfort. 5. In the afternoon. Liam called and told me to come downstairs. When I opened the car door, my sister was sitting in the passenger seat. Liam said, “I bumped into your sister downstairs. She said she’d come help give you some advice.” He had a tiny, fresh cut on his lip. My sister’s lips were also very red, her lipstick slightly smudged. She chimed in, “Yeah, I’ll help you pick. I have a pretty good eye for these things.” I nodded faintly. “Sure, you have plenty of experience.” Seeing my unusually calm reaction, she added, “I get a little carsick, so sitting in the front passenger seat makes me feel better. You don’t mind, do you?” Before I could answer. Liam spoke up first: “Why would she mind? A seat is a seat, right, Chloe?” “Yeah.” Halfway there, my sister suddenly said: “Oh, by the way, let me share some good news with you both. I got a divorce.” The car slammed to a sudden halt, throwing me forward. Liam’s voice was hoarse. “You got a divorce?” My sister smiled, her lips curling up. “Yeah, I got a divorce. I couldn’t do it anymore. I want a fresh start.” Liam stared at her for a long time. The two of them looked like they were shooting a soap opera. I had to interrupt: “What are we waiting for? Why aren’t we moving?” 6. The car ride was thick with unspoken tension until we finally arrived at the bridal boutique. I tried on the first dress. When I stepped out of the fitting room… Liam was still talking to my sister, completely ignoring me. It wasn’t until the consultant praised me out loud that he finally turned his head to look at me. I looked him dead in the eye with a polite smile. “It looks great. Really beautiful. Let’s just go with this one.” I clenched my fists. “Just this one?” My sister flipped her hair and said, “Come on, you’re not even trying. Let her try on a few more.” Suddenly, my sister’s ex-husband, Derek, burst through the doors. Derek grabbed my sister’s wrist, glaring at her furiously. “You got me drunk last night and tricked me into signing the divorce papers! How the hell did you dare?!” My sister immediately hid behind Liam. “You signed them yourself. Stop harassing me.” Liam lunged forward and threw two punches at him. “You’re divorced! How dare you harass her? Back the fuck off!” Derek was knocked to the floor. But as he fell, he crashed into me. In my high heels, I lost my balance and fell hard to the floor. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Liam grabbed Derek by the collar and told him to get out. When Liam rushed back in, he ran straight to my sister. “Mia, are you okay?” The consultant looked at me with a complicated expression and helped me up. “Mr. Carter, Miss Chloe seems to have sprained her ankle.” Only then did he run over to check on me. But the very next second, my sister fainted. He turned around without hesitation, picked her up, and said, “Chloe, I’m taking your sister to the hospital. You just… keep trying dresses on yourself.” 7. “Okay. Remember to come back.” My ankle throbbed, but after standing up, it felt manageable. I could still walk. The consultant asked me with a hesitant look, “Miss Chloe, should we… try on some other dresses?” “No need. Maybe another time.” As expected, Liam never came back to the bridal shop that entire day. He texted me to go home and rest, saying my sister was very weak and needed to be hospitalized, so he was staying to take care of her. 8. Late in the dead of night, I took off my phone case and pulled out a photograph. Ethan, did you see? I wore a wedding dress today. However, the only answer I got was the endless, silent night. The next day, I drove alone to a cemetery outside the city. Standing in front of Ethan’s headstone were a married couple and a little boy. I was a bit surprised. “Excuse me, who are you?” The couple looked visibly moved when they saw me. “Ethan was our savior. You must be his girlfriend, right?” I nodded, bewildered. “Your boyfriend donated his corneas to our son. I really don’t know how to properly thank his family. Please, take this bank card…” My heart violently clenched. I looked down at the little boy with big, bright eyes, and my vision instantly blurred with tears. “Little guy, is your name Liam Carter?” The little boy nodded. “Yes, miss. My name is Liam.” So I was wrong this entire time. I found the wrong person. The man who possessed Ethan’s eyes was never the Liam Carter I had been dating. The couple kept talking, but it felt like all the sound was sucked out of the world. I smiled through my tears and patted the little boy’s head. “Liam, it’s so nice to meet you. You have to grow up strong, okay?” 9. The little boy nodded, looking up at me. “Miss, what kind of person was the big brother?” “Him? He was the coolest, gentlest person in the world. He would beat up anyone who tried to bully me.” The little boy handed me his umbrella. “Don’t be sad, miss. I’m giving you my umbrella. The big brother will definitely protect you from up in heaven.” I patted his head. “Thank you.” I didn’t take the bank card. After they left, I slowly crouched down and traced the photograph on the headstone. “Ethan, are you mad at me for finding the wrong person?” The Liam I found wasn’t the Liam I was looking for. He was just a completely irrelevant stranger. While I was trying to figure out how to meet him, he actually approached me first, so we ended up together. Every time I looked into his eyes, I forced myself to show him my best self. But when he closed his eyes, I didn’t even have the strength to smile. In this moment, the obsession that had haunted me for so long simply dissolved into thin air. Liam called my phone. I hung up without a second thought. The wind howled past my ears under the heavy, pouring rain. The man on the headstone had sharp, striking features. His dark eyelashes drooped softly, his eyes filled with an ocean of tenderness. I took that photo of him. But when I took it, I never imagined it would be turned into a black-and-white portrait glued to a freezing headstone. I whispered to him, “Ethan, when are you going to wear a suit for me?” “Do you think maybe this is all just a dream? That tomorrow I’ll wake up, and you’ll be alive?” “If you can hear me, make the rain stop. Please?” 10. Suddenly, the raindrops began to lighten. The rapid drumming against the umbrella slowly faded away. The rain… actually stopped. A breeze from the distance ruffled my hair. And dried the tears at the corners of my eyes. It felt so incredibly gentle. The strands of hair brushing against my cheek felt exactly like him stroking my face. “Don’t cry. I’ve always been right here beside you.” I was suddenly pulled back to the summer I was seventeen. That day, my sister and I had a huge fight. She moved her stuff into my bedroom without asking, taking over my space. We got into a physical fight, and my stepmother couldn’t pull us apart. When my dad got home, he didn’t even ask what happened. He just slapped me across the face so hard my head whipped to the side. “Look at your sister’s face! You scratched her up!” I slammed the door and ran away, sprinting straight to Ethan. Inside his tattoo parlor, I kept my head down the entire time. But he walked over and ruffled my hair. “Why are your eyes so red? Who’d you get into a fight with?” “No one. I just tripped and fell.” But he grabbed a first-aid kit. With his long, tattoo-covered fingers, he gently cleaned my scratches. “Tell me who bullied you.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I threw myself into his chest and sobbed uncontrollably. I soaked the thin black shirt he was wearing. He usually kept a polite distance from me, but that time, he didn’t push me away. He just gently patted my back. Eventually, I fell asleep in his arms. Ever since my mom passed away, that was the warmest embrace I had ever felt. I fell hopelessly, incurably in love with him. Of course, it was a secret crush. On the outside, he looked tough and cold, but in reality, he was gentler than anyone I had ever known.

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1 I had a flash marriage. My bargain of a husband is a college professor, 29 years old, with a PhD. He’s rich, gorgeous, and has tenure. The key point is: he has a car, a house, and no parents to deal with. My mom said a top-tier catch like him is like hitting the jackpot. I was momentarily blinded by his good looks, and after just half a month of blind dating, we got our marriage license. But half a month into the marriage, I regretted it. He is too cold, our differences are too vast, and we have absolutely nothing to talk about. He sleeps early, wakes up early, leaves early, and comes home early. I sleep late, wake up late, and am basically nocturnal. The day we got our license, I was on my period, and he consciously went to sleep in the guest room. Half a month into our marriage, we’ve been living like platonic roommates. I didn’t want to live like a nun anymore. After hesitating for a long time, I prepared to go find Elias Thorne to talk about divorce. Just as I reached the door of his office, a young female student beat me to it, knocking and walking in. “Why are you closing the door? Leave it open.” Elias’s voice carried a hint of irritation. The young girl, looking wronged, opened the door back up. I stood in the doorway, momentarily at a loss for what to do. “Hey, if it’s nothing major, I’d advise you to come back another day.” The girl sighed, kindly warning me. I stood there, a little curious and a little surprised. “Professor Thorne, have you looked at my thesis? I need your signature in the final column…” Inside the office, Elias was wearing a black dress shirt that outlined his tall, athletic build, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, revealing a pair of veined, strong wrists. He flipped through a thesis, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. “With what you’ve written here, even George Washington wouldn’t dare sign his name on this. “I asked you to submit a rough draft, not a brain dump. “The title is nice. It uses the entire English alphabet, but put together, I don’t understand a word of it.” I stood there, completely dumbfounded. Half a month into our marriage, the number of conversations Elias and I had could be counted on one hand, not to mention he naturally had a man-of-few-words personality. I never expected that a man who looked so refined and elegant could have such a venomous tongue. When intellectuals insult people, it truly is on another level… He flipped through the pages, his face growing darker. “What is this formatting? Did you invent it yourself? “Take a guess at my mental state when I read this part? “I feel like your mind was completely blank. “What exactly are you researching? “Remove my name from the acknowledgments. Don’t try to morally blackmail me. “Do you still want to graduate?” The young girl stood there, looking like she was about to cry. Help, the sheer terror of being dominated by a graduation thesis instantly washed over me. It was hard not to empathize. Moreover, what shocked me was that a man who usually treated his words like gold around me could actually speak this much! With a cold face, he slammed the thesis onto the desk and, upon lifting his eyes, locked gazes with me. He looked slightly surprised for a moment. “Chloe, why are you here?” His expression softened as he walked over to me and took my hand. “Why didn’t you come in?” The female student looked at me like I was her savior, her eyes suddenly filled with pure gossip. I awkwardly raised my hand and gave a little wave. Elias glanced at her and introduced me: “Your professor’s wife.” The young girl instantly turned into a gossip-hungry hound. “Hello, Mrs. Thorne!” “Wow, Professor, you’re married…” “You look so young.” “When did you guys tie the knot?” Elias unhappily reminded her: “If you put this much energy into your studies, your thesis wouldn’t read like a Wattpad fanfiction.” “Sorry to bother you, Professor. I’ll take my leave now…” She left, leaving just the two of us in the office. Staring at each other, things felt inexplicably awkward again. “How did you find the time to come by today?” He looked at me, his voice softening a few degrees. I couldn’t quite gauge his mood. After hesitating for a moment, I felt now was not the right time to bring up divorce. “Just… passing by…” I lied. The corners of his lips hooked up into a smile, and he raised his hand to pat my head. “I just got off work. Let’s go home.” Elias is tall, with chiseled, model-like features. Paired with those gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, his unapproachable, ascetic vibe was pushed to the absolute max. With just one smile and a head pat, my resolve began to waver. With a face like that, getting a divorce feels like taking a massive loss… 2 He held my hand as we walked out of the office, bumping into a few colleagues who were also leaving for the day. He nodded politely, smiling as he introduced me. “Yes, my wife.” “Yes, we just got the certificate. We’ll invite everyone to the wedding.” Blushing, I got into the car with him. The ride was quiet. As a chatterbox, I really couldn’t stand this kind of atmosphere, so I took the initiative to break the ice: “Um, why are you so strict with your students?” He sighed helplessly. “They’re too dumb…” “When you tutored me on my thesis back then, you weren’t this mean…” Elias was a former student of my dad’s. Though I hadn’t seen him much, his name was legendary in our house. A genius boy who skipped grades continuously, a brilliant student who breezed through his Master’s and PhD, a rare young talent. My dad spent his life cultivating brilliant minds everywhere, but sadly, the one he grew at home was a total dud. Me. I’ve been a terrible student since childhood. I went to a bottom-tier state college for my undergrad, bombed my grad school entrance exams, and went abroad to buy a fluff Master’s degree. Back then, after reading my thesis, my dad’s blood pressure spiked. Out of desperation, he handed me over to Elias. At that time, Elias corrected my work word by word, incredibly patient. Now that he’s a professor himself, he’s totally changed his tune. He suddenly smiled, his voice deep: “You’re different.” As he spoke, he parked the car in front of a pharmacy. “Wait for me a second, I need to buy something.” I was a bit curious: “Are you sick?” Could it be that he got so mad at his student today that he needed to buy blood pressure meds? He didn’t answer, just gave me an unreadable glance. He wasn’t gone long before returning, and I couldn’t even see what he had bought. 3 We drove home in silence, and as soon as we walked in, he went straight to the kitchen to cook. I have to admit, this habit of Elias’s is truly wonderful. Even though I often sleep until noon, there are always fresh meals in the fridge every day. His cooking skills are great, and soon, several dishes were placed on the table. Garlic shrimp with broccoli, beef with enoki mushrooms, tomato and egg stir-fry, and a zucchini soup. All my favorites. I buried my head and ate while he continuously put more food into my bowl. “That’s… that’s enough…” I was getting a bit too full before he finally stopped. “Okay.” Another bout of silence. I silently sighed in my heart. He really just doesn’t share a common language with me. I still don’t think I can live like this. After dinner, he silently cleared the table and did the dishes, while I turned and went to the bathroom to wash up. While showering, I thought long and hard about how to bring up the divorce. The steam clouded the room, and my brain felt a bit deprived of oxygen. Reaching out to grab my towel, I lost my focus for a second. My foot slipped, and with a heavy thud, I crashed onto the floor. I let out a miserable shriek, tears springing to my eyes from the pain. I felt like my entire body was shattered… “Chloe, what’s wrong?” Elias’s anxious knocking sounded from outside the door. It hurt so much I couldn’t even speak properly. “Chloe, are you okay? I’m coming in.” “I…” Realizing I was still naked, I panicked through the pain. “I slipped, don’t…” Before I could finish, he actually opened the door and rushed in. The moment our eyes met, I watched his face visibly flush red all the way down to his neck. My face instantly burned up, and I didn’t know which parts of myself to cover first. “Elias, you… you…” Realizing he had lost his composure, he coughed lightly. He quickly pulled down a bath towel, wrapped my entire body in it, and carried me into the bedroom. He gently placed me on the bed, looking worried: “Where did you get hurt?” I clutched the towel tightly, my face flushed. “My foot.” As my gaze fell to my foot, I instantly wanted the earth to swallow me whole out of sheer embarrassment. Maybe I slipped too hard, but right now, my shower slipper was shoved completely past my heel and wedged tightly onto my ankle… Elias clearly wanted to laugh, but he held it in. “I bought them a size too big. I’ll get you a better pair tomorrow,” he explained. He placed his hand on the slipper. “Let’s get the shoe off first.” And so, both of us pulling with all our might, we began the “Great Slipper Extraction.” I was nervous and mortified. We struggled for a long time, but the shoe remained firmly stuck. “It’s too tight.” He sighed helplessly, guiding me. “Chloe, relax a bit, keep your foot straight.” Me: … God, just destroy me right now… 4 A few minutes and several attempts later, it finally came off… Elias half-knelt in front of me, massaging my foot. “Can you move it?” His slightly messy bangs fell over his forehead, and his glasses hid his downward gaze. I moved my foot, blushing. “It’s fine now…” It hurt terribly when I first fell, but now that the shock passed, it was much better. He gently rubbed my ankle. As he slowly looked up, I met his eyes. I couldn’t help but feel flustered and awkward again. Especially right now, when he wasn’t speaking, the atmosphere was indescribably weird. Unable to bear it any longer, I took a deep breath and tentatively spoke up: “Elias, why don’t we… get a divorce…” His hands stopped, and his gaze darkened: “Chloe, what did you just say?” I avoided his eyes. “I said… divorce…” He stood up with a cold face, casting a shadow over me. He closed his eyes briefly, but it couldn’t hide the anger brewing beneath them. “Chloe, do you think marriage is a game?” I twisted my fingers tightly, feeling a bit guilty: “But we… we’re clearly not a good match…” “How are we not a good match?” “We’re not a match in any way. We don’t even act like a married couple…” He kept his cold face, didn’t say a word, turned around, and walked out. I was stunned for a moment. Before I could even process it, he actually came right back. Then, he tossed a small box onto the bed. Me: ??? “E… Elias, what are you doing?” His shirt was already gone. I only glanced up once, and my face felt scalding hot… His voice was husky: “We haven’t even tried. How do you know we aren’t a match?” “I…” His glasses bumped against the bridge of my nose, his burning skin contrasting with the cool metal frames. He quickly took off his glasses. My eyes met Elias’s beautiful brow and eyes. It turned out that taking off his glasses made him look a few degrees gentler. Try it then. A top-tier guy like this, I’m not losing out… … Except, three minutes later. I lay on the bed, somewhat questioning the meaning of life. All that aggressive buildup like a tiger, only to strike out immediately… That’s it? Someone covered his eyes, looking humiliated. “Chloe… it’s my first time…” I forced a bitter smile to comfort him, trying to preserve his final shred of dignity. Inside, I was losing my mind: We tried it, are we a match? Do YOU think we’re a match? WTF, divorce, we absolutely must divorce. I’ve done good deeds my whole life, I don’t deserve this. His face was flushed red. “Can we try one more time?” “Whatever you want…” I figured I could just grit my teeth and get through it…

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Right before the wedding, the male lead finally remembered I existed and came to the mansion to see me. [Has Harper realized her mistake?] The butler looked devastated: “Miss Harper is already dead.” He didn’t believe it. He rushed into the bedroom, only to find my long-cold corpse. Before my mission failed, I refused to give up. I sent Carter one last text message, asking: “Do you really have to marry Chloe?” A reply came quickly: “If you keep throwing these tantrums, we can’t even be brother and sister anymore.” I didn’t even have to guess; I knew Carter was frowning as he typed that, annoyance written all over his face. My heart turned to ash. I resigned myself to my fate, tossed the phone aside, and waited for death. I watched helplessly at the countdown hovering above my head— From ten, all the way down to zero. The system’s mechanical voice echoed in my mind: “Failure to capture the male lead’s heart. The host will now be erased.” As soon as the words fell, I felt it with agonizing clarity— My soul was being peeled away from this body, inch by excruciating inch. It was an unbearable sensation. A hundred, a thousand times worse than when I was tortured and whipped in my past life. I gritted my teeth as hard as I could, but a muffled groan of agony still slipped through my lips. The experiences of this lifetime flashed before my eyes like a speeding movie. I was supposed to be the vicious secondary character in a billionaire romance novel, but I was handed the script to win the male lead’s heart. To better nurture our feelings, I chose to enter this world as his childhood best friend. For the first eighteen years of our lives, we were inseparable. Whenever it was my time of the month, Carter would buy me pads and make me hot tea with a heating pad ready. He would endure a twenty-four-hour flight, rushing all the way back from overseas just to say: “I wanted to see you.” Almost everyone thought we were a sure thing, a match made in heaven. Including me. That was until the female lead, Chloe, appeared. Only then did I profoundly understand that a lifetime of friendship could never compete with love at first sight. At my twentieth birthday party, I confessed my feelings to him. Unsurprisingly, he rejected me. He summarized over a decade of our bond into a single sentence: “Harper, I only see you as a sister.” From that moment on, my “vicious secondary character” persona awakened, and I began to cling to him desperately. And from the sidelines, I witnessed his on-again, off-again five-year saga with Chloe. Leading up to today, where they finally got their happy ending. If I didn’t win Carter’s heart, I would die. But at the same time, I genuinely loved him! Back then, I was stubborn. I refused to believe that eighteen years of devotion couldn’t rival a single fleeting glance. Facts proved that I was wrong. Completely, absurdly wrong. But Carter, it really hurts! After the immense tearing sensation faded, my body became light, no longer confined to flesh and blood. Strangely, I didn’t disappear immediately. Instead, guided by some bizarre force, I was pulled straight to Carter’s corporate headquarters. Dressed in a tailored black suit, he exuded the aura of an elite executive. It was almost laughable. That suit he was wearing? I tailored it for him myself. I majored in fashion design in college. Back then, my eyes and heart were entirely filled with Carter. I naively told him: “I’m going to gift you a custom-tailored suit for your birthday every year, so you can be the spokesperson for my brand.” He promised to invest in me, to take my brand global. I kept my promise, but he broke his. [Mr. CEO, Miss Chloe is calling to remind you about the wedding photoshoot.] Carter’s executive assistant, Hayes, walked in to inform him. [I know.] Carter replied, placing a photograph face-down on his desk before standing up in silence. When he left, I was forced to follow. I watched as he and Chloe laughed and smiled, shooting an entire gallery of wedding photos. On the way back, Carter uncharacteristically did not drop Chloe off at her place. The atmosphere in the car was inexplicably heavy, suffocatingly so. Carter’s brows were locked in a tight frown, lost in thought, as if some unsolvable problem was bothering him. After a long while, he spoke abruptly: “Where is Harper?” “What is she doing today?” Usually, I was incredibly clingy. I’d call him countless times a day and send an endless stream of texts. Even if he ignored me, I would always find a way to pry his itinerary out of Hayes. This time, however, Hayes simply replied calmly: “Miss Harper hasn’t reached out to me at all today.” Hearing this, Carter’s frown deepened fiercely. He pulled out his phone. Our chat history was still stuck on yesterday’s screen. Me: “Do you really have to marry Chloe?” Carter: “If you keep throwing these tantrums, we can’t even be brother and sister anymore.” He furrowed his brows and sent me a text, acting as if he was granting me a grand favor: “Where are you?” Normally, I would have jumped for joy and immediately started rambling to him, not wanting to make him wait a single second. But this time, ten minutes passed without a single reply. Carter finally sensed something was off and ordered Hayes: “Go to Oakwood Manor.” Oakwood Manor. This estate was Carter’s coming-of-age gift to me. I had lived here ever since and refused to move out. Even the butler was handpicked by him. When Carter arrived, the mansion was terrifyingly quiet. Only the butler was in the living room, busying himself aimlessly. Carter casually adjusted his cufflinks and ordered: “Tell Harper to come down and see me.” Hearing my name, the butler’s rigid expression cracked, revealing an incomprehensible layer of sorrow. He cast a resentful glance at Carter and slowly spat out the words: “Miss Harper is already dead.” Carter froze for a second, then his face returned to a mask of indifference. He scoffed: “What kind of new trick is she playing now?” I might have been willful and mischievous, but I would never joke about life and death. Yet his trust in me was so incredibly thin that he wouldn’t even bother to verify it. Carter was absolutely certain I was just throwing a tantrum. Before leaving, he told the butler to pass on a message: “Tell her not to come to my wedding. Chloe doesn’t like her, and she’s an eyesore to me.” The butler’s eyes flickered, his gaze toward Carter tainted with pity and a hint of hatred. Carter stayed in my mansion for barely ten minutes. He came in a rush and left in a hurry. He climbed into his car, irritated. When Hayes saw no one following him out, he paused: “Sir, did Miss Harper not come down to see you?” After all, the old me wouldn’t have let him wait for even a second. Setting the system’s mission aside… it turned out I was just a shameless, desperate lapdog begging for his attention. Harper, you didn’t die unjustly. Carter’s brow twitched, his mood growing even more foul as he warned: “Never mention that name in front of me again.” Hayes hesitated, glancing at the thoroughly impatient Carter, and finally swallowed all his words of persuasion. I was sitting right there in the back seat, right beside Carter. He seemed extremely agitated. He made the driver circle the entire city several times. His thin lips were pressed into a tight, straight line. He gripped his phone tightly, glancing down at it every so often. But the screen remained pitch black; it never lit up. I didn’t know what he was hoping for. Was he still expecting me to call or text him? Oh, I remembered. Carter once said I was his anchor; he only felt truly at peace when I was around. Once, after a bitter fight with Chloe, he got drunk and ran over to my place in the middle of the night, acting like a madman. He held me so tightly, the scent of alcohol mixing with his warm breath against my neck. He nuzzled me, full of intimacy. [Harper, what would I ever do without you?] His tone was tender, as though I were the lover he had yearned for all his life. That was the closest I ever got to completing the mission. If I had slept with him then, given Carter’s rigid, traditional mindset, he would have taken responsibility for me. But I didn’t want to use such dirty tricks to chain him to my side. I wanted to stand before him with my head held high. So, I always appeared whenever he was depressed and defeated. I saw him at his absolute lowest countless times, but I was never allowed to share the glory when he was standing at the peak. During the five years he was entangled with Chloe, they loved and tortured each other. Every time he achieved a victory, he would childishly run to her side, lift his chin proudly, and provoke her: “Chloe, you’re my defeated opponent.” Chloe would get furious, her eyes turning red. Then Carter would frantically apologize and coax her until she smiled. And I just stood a short distance away, staring blankly at that eye-piercing scene. Five whole years. I lost count of how many times I had to endure that. I thought about giving up, but every time the thought crossed my mind, the system would blare a piercing warning of my impending erasure. The morning light was faint. The distant, foggy blue sky gradually turned pale, and the morning sun struggled to break through. Carter waited for me all night, but he never got my surrender. He closed his eyes and ordered coldly: “To the office.” “Yes, sir.” Upon arriving at the office, Carter paced irritably around the executive suite. His gaze shifted and suddenly landed on the photograph placed face-down on his desk. Things had been too rushed yesterday; I never got a clear look at who was in the picture. Was it Chloe? They had been practically inseparable these past few days. Did he miss her so much that he needed to look at her photo? Over the past five years, he and Chloe had a toxic, passionate romance, but the one who was always by his side was me. Right before my twentieth birthday, Chloe came up to me and declared with absolute certainty: “Harper, the one who will end up with Carter is me.” I froze, not taking her declaration of war seriously. How could she? Carter and I had a deep bond. He planned my entire birthday party himself, making it a grand, luxurious affair. So, we made a bet. At the party, I confessed to Carter: “I like you.” The entire room erupted, people clapping and cheering: “Be together! Be together!” I waited for his answer, full of anticipation and anxiety. But Carter looked hesitantly into the crowd, and finally gave me a helpless reply: “Harper, I only see you as my sister. If I did anything to make you misunderstand, I apologize.” In an instant, the mocking and shocked stares of the crowd shattered into thousands of sharp blades, stabbing ruthlessly into my heart. An invisible execution. I forced a smile, having no idea how to salvage the humiliating situation. I thought it was a mutual romance naturally blossoming; I didn’t realize it was just my own pathetic, one-sided delusion. To make matters worse, Chloe walked up to the stage, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Carter. She crossed her arms, gave me a disdainful look, and said: “Harper, I told you. Carter doesn’t like you. You’re just asking for misery.” Carter turned and started arguing with her, criticizing her for acting on her own, entirely forgetting that I was still standing there, drowning in embarrassment. [Sir, Miss Chloe is here.] Hayes’ calm voice echoed in the spacious, quiet office, jolting both of us out of our shared trip down memory lane. [Let her wait outside for now.] Carter nodded expressionlessly and turned to walk into the private lounge. The lounge had a massive walk-in closet filled with all kinds of clothes, every single one carefully paired and picked out by me. It was so he’d always be prepared for any occasion. Now, he was meticulously picking an outfit from the dazzling array of clothes I bought him, all to go on a date with another woman. How laughable! I did so much, yet failed to unlock his heart, only managing to pave the way perfectly for someone else. It was truly pages of absurdity, a handful of bitter tears. Chloe, who was supposed to wait outside, entered the office without permission and picked up the photo on the desk. When Carter walked out and saw this, he flew into a rage, his voice sharp and severe: “Who told you to touch my things?” This sudden burst of anger caught her off guard. Chloe froze for a second before firing back accusingly: “Wow, Carter. We’re about to get married, and you’re hiding a picture of another woman? What exactly is the meaning of this?!” Another woman’s picture? It wasn’t Chloe. Hearing this, I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach and giggling. I didn’t know Carter was such a player! But it was for the best. Let Chloe taste the bitterness I once swallowed. They got into a fierce argument and eventually parted on bad terms. The massive office was left in a mess, leaving behind only… Carter’s profound loneliness. He bent down to pick up the photo from the floor. I leaned in curiously, wanting to know who this woman hidden in his heart was. Even Chloe had lost to her. But he deliberately covered the photo with his hand, guarding it so tightly that I couldn’t see a thing. I sighed in defeat. But on second thought, I let it go. What business did the dead have with the affairs of the living? Besides, I was going to disappear soon anyway. [Ring— Ring—] The ringing of the landline shattered the momentary silence of the office. Carter looked over, his eyes landing on the old-fashioned phone on his desk, the corners of his lips curving up slightly. He purposely waited a while. Just as the call was about to drop, he leisurely picked up the receiver and said, “Hello.” The butler’s calm, numb voice came through the line: “Sir, how should we arrange the young lady’s funeral?” Not hearing the voice he expected, Carter frowned heavily, his annoyance flaring up: “Is Harper addicted to playing dead?!” “Tell her that these cheap tricks won’t fool me, and I won’t cancel the wedding because of them!” The other end went completely silent. Just as Carter thought the call had been disconnected, the butler’s voice echoed faintly.

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When Liam flew halfway across the world chasing the one that got away, I begged him not to leave. He didn’t even look back. A year later, I got married, and Liam flew straight back. Seeing my wedding ring, the habitually arrogant young heir completely broke down. He forced a smile. “Lily, are you going to take it off yourself, or should I do it for you?” His voice was trembling. “If you want a ring, I’ll buy you one. Throw this one away, I’m begging you.” I didn’t invite many people to my wedding, just a dozen or so close friends and family for a nice dinner. My husband doted on me. He didn’t let me lift a finger the entire time, taking it upon himself to entertain the guests so I could just sit and chat with my best friend. Watching me get married, my best friend Emma sighed deeply. “I honestly thought you were going to wait for Liam for the rest of your life.” I looked down and smiled. “I thought so too.” She asked, “Does Liam know you’re getting married?” I shook my head. “No. And there’s no need for him to know.” She paused. “I heard Liam booked a flight like an absolute madman last night, flying back from the States overnight.” I didn’t say anything. If he was in such a rush, it was probably because his “first love” had run off again. Just like back then. She had gotten mad at him and ran off to Europe. Liam booked his flight right in front of me to chase after her. It was my time of the month, and I was wrapped tightly in a blanket, still feeling freezing cold. I sat shivering in front of him, watching his long, elegant fingers tap the screen without a second of hesitation, booking a ticket for that very night. I gritted my teeth, still wanting to make him stay. “Liam, can you just… not go?” Liam’s dark, gleaming eyes looked at me, a careless smile on his lips. “Be a good girl and stay home. I’ll bring you back a present.” He tilted my chin up, pecked me lightly on the lips, and tucked the blanket tighter around me. “Do you want a necklace or a bracelet?” I stayed silent. Liam loved giving people jewelry. He had given me countless pieces, but never a ring. He didn’t give Mia many gifts, but whenever he did, it was always a ring. I took a deep breath, looking at his lean, handsome face and pale skin, and tried one last time. “Do you really have to go?” The smile on Liam’s lips faded a fraction. He patted my head. “You know what our relationship is.” I froze in place, utterly speechless. I was the one who had actively chased Liam. He only had one condition: our relationship couldn’t be public, especially not in front of Mia. To put it bluntly, I was just a rebound. A backup plan. I had absolutely no right to stop him. Even though we lived together, and he had even taken me to his family gatherings. Seeing that I wasn’t going to argue, Liam smiled and kissed my forehead. “Be good. I’ll bring you something nice.” I lowered my head. “When are you coming back?” He stood up, slowly buttoning his dress shirt. “Just a few days.” At the time, he probably didn’t expect that his dream girl wasn’t just going abroad to clear her head—she was going for a year-long study program. Which meant he ended up staying there with her for a whole year. I looked at Liam’s tall, broad back as he walked to the door, and I let out a soft sigh. Sensing my unhappiness, Liam turned back. “Before I leave, think of something you want me to do for you. I’ll make it happen, whatever it is.” I looked at his face and thought for a moment. “Could you look into someone for me? His name is Noah. He’s a war correspondent.” Liam’s face instantly darkened. “What’s your relationship with him? If you can’t explain it clearly, I’m not helping.” I pressed my lips together. “He’s my brother. From my foster family.” Liam’s expression relaxed, and he nodded. “Wait for my news.” He turned and left. I watched his silhouette disappear, then pulled a photograph out of my wallet. In the photo was a lean, handsome man who looked strikingly similar to Liam. I gently rubbed the photo with my thumb. Liam really was a forgetful person. I had told him I grew up in the foster care system. Where would I get a biological extended family? I had also told him that there was an older boy in the group home who always took care of me, and that we grew up together. But he heard it and immediately forgot. He also never suspected why I loved staring at his face so much. I only loved his face. Liam really, truly loved Mia. Even though Mia’s attitude had been wildly inconsistent for years, and she simply refused to settle down with him. He still loved her willingly and wholeheartedly. And I really, truly loved Liam— Or rather, that face of his. The face that looked just like Noah’s. I always held a deep sense of gratitude toward Liam. He had saved me from the absolute abyss. When I met him, I had already lost contact with Noah for three years. Many people said Noah was dead. I was a walking corpse, completely devoid of life. Until I saw Liam, a guy a year below me in college. When I saw that face, so devastatingly identical to Noah’s, I cried. I did everything I could to get close to Liam, treating him well unconditionally. Everyone knew I was Liam’s little shadow. I carried his bag, held his jacket, bought his things, passed messages when he fought with Mia, and helped him walk home when he was drunk. Perhaps I was just too good to him, so good that he could no longer ignore it. So, one drunken night after a massive fight with Mia, he pulled me into his arms. “You like me?” I looked at that lean, handsome face and nodded. From that day on, I became Liam’s secret girlfriend. If a rebound could even be considered a girlfriend. This “relationship” lasted for years. Things never worked out between Liam and Mia, and eventually, Liam and I moved in together. Sometimes, Liam would hold me and sigh romantically, “Lily, you’re the best woman I’ve ever met. You don’t even care about my money.” I laughed. “If you wanted to give it to me, I wouldn’t say no.” “But you don’t spend it.” Liam stared at me with those deep, intense eyes. “You don’t spend my money, you don’t wear the jewelry I buy you, and you don’t push me to go public.” He said, “Sometimes I honestly feel like you’re treating me like a rebound, too.” I tapped his nose, laughing as I buried my face in his chest. Rebound or not, it didn’t matter. People aren’t made of stone. We had already spent six years together. Those six years meant a lot to me. But Liam didn’t see it that way. Liam still loved Mia just as much. If Mia called him drunk in the middle of the night, Liam would throw his clothes on and rush out to pick her up. In the past, Liam would leave without a word, never explaining himself to me. But later on, he started offering explanations, a hint of guilt flickering across his face. I thought this meant I was finally becoming someone special in his heart. But I was wrong. He still chased Mia out of the country, not giving me a single chance to make him stay. And he was gone for a whole year. Liam actually came back once during that year. He got incredibly drunk and called me to pick him up. When I arrived, he was sitting in a VIP booth at a club, video-calling Mia. Seeing me walk in, he waved me over. “Lily, come here.” He turned the phone to show me to Mia. “Let me introduce you. This is my girlfriend of six years, Lily.” Mia still wore her usual look of cold indifference. But her eyes swept over me, pausing on my face for a few seconds. Then she smiled. “Liam, have you moved on?” Liam smiled back. “Yeah. Why should I keep chasing someone who doesn’t want me, when I’ve got a gentle, perfect wife right here?” Mia watched Liam wrap his arm around me and asked how long we had been together. I answered honestly: six years. Mia hung up the video call. The usually arrogant and poised Mia lost her composure so badly she didn’t even say goodbye. The hand Liam had wrapped around me suddenly went rigid. That night, Liam was holding me as we slept. Halfway through the night, he took a phone call. When he came back to bed, he held me tight, kissing me endlessly. He didn’t sleep a wink, just staring at me until dawn. By morning, his voice was hoarse. “Lily, we’re at the end of the line.” I hadn’t slept either. I had already guessed it. I heard the phone call he took. Mia casually told him to break up with me. She said as soon as he dumped me, she would be with him. I knew I wasn’t as important as Mia. I nodded, not wanting the scene to get ugly. I turned my back to him and wiped the corner of my eye. Liam hugged me from behind, squeezing me so tight I could barely breathe. He whispered in my ear, “The boy from your foster family… I found news about him. He’s not dead. He just has amnesia. He’s overseas.” My entire body went stiff. I turned around. “Can you bring him back?” Liam kissed my lips one last time. “I can. I owe you this much.” The very same day, he got on a plane to be with Mia. And a few days later, I saw Noah. He was in the best hospital in the country, being treated by top-tier specialists. Soon, his memory returned, and he remembered me. Noah had lost his memory from a head injury while saving a child in a bombing zone. The moment he woke up, the first thing he did was pull me into his arms. His gentle voice echoed by my ear. “I’ve been gone for ten years. I’m so sorry I made you suffer.” My tears instantly spilled over. My empty heart was quietly, completely filled. Noah and I had missed out on ten years, and neither of us wanted to waste another decade. We got engaged very quickly. Noah did ask me if I had fallen in love with someone else during those ten years, telling me not to make an impulsive decision I might regret. Liam’s face flashed vaguely in my mind. But it disappeared just as fast. I shook my head, smiled, and said no. I traced the scar Noah got from saving that child in the war zone, and repeated, “No.”

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The day Caleb Thorne’s high school sweetheart returned to the States marked exactly three years of me playing Support for him. He told me to step aside and advised, “Your macro awareness is just too poor. Riley is a much better fit for me.” Everyone in the league said that if it wasn’t for Caleb, someone of my skill level would never have made it onto a pro roster. They said I was dragging him down. And Riley? She was the one who actually had a chance to help him win the World Championship. So, on the day I packed my bags and left, a friend asked him, “You’re not going to go after her?” Caleb just laughed it off, completely unbothered. “Let her learn her lesson. She’ll be back.” Until one day, someone jokingly suggested they wanted to hear me grovel and apologize to him over the phone on speaker. Uncharacteristically, Caleb agreed and dialed my number. But the moment the call connected, a lazy, raspy male voice answered instead: “She’s in the shower. “In… my room.” Rumor has it that Caleb shattered his wine glass right then and there, bolting from the banquet like a madman. 1 The day Caleb’s high school sweetheart flew back from the European circuit was exactly our three-year anniversary as a bot-lane duo. He threw a massive welcome party for her at the team facility. He invited everyone. Except me. He told me to stay in my room and “reflect on my mistakes.” Pop— Confetti cannons erupted in the living room downstairs. Every word drifting up the stairs was dripping with praise for Riley Mercer. “You’re a legend, Caleb! You actually managed to poach the top female Support in the West!” “With Riley backing us up, next year’s World Championship is practically in the bag!” “Cheers to the birth of our new golden bot-lane couple!” Riley Mercer. The star female Support player. She had a glowing track record and great mechanics. Though she hadn’t secured a World title yet, the entire organization believed her addition would be the push Frost Wolves (FW) needed to break their bottleneck. After all, everyone assumed that if I hadn’t been dragging them down, the championship trophy would already be sitting on Caleb’s shelf. Even Caleb himself had said it: “Your macro awareness is just too poor, Chloe. Riley is a much better fit for me. “Only Riley has the potential to help me win Worlds. “Chloe, give up your starting roster spot.” …… 2 Caleb knew exactly what a starting roster spot meant to a professional esports player. Yet, when he heard me refuse, he just stared at me with cold, calculating eyes. “Chloe, can you stop throwing a tantrum for once? “Can’t you be a team player? Just stay in your room and think about your attitude.” Because of that, when I walked out of my room and appeared suddenly at the top of the stairs, Caleb’s eyes flashed with the impatience of someone whose authority had been challenged. “What are you doing down here?” Riley peeked out from behind him, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Caleb, who is this?” “No one,” Caleb frowned, his tone instantly softening to reassure her. “Just a substitute.” As he spoke, he subtly took a step forward, using his body to block my line of sight to Riley. It was a defensive posture, as if I were some kind of monster about to strike. Just a substitute… My hands balled into fists at my sides, a sharp, suffocating ache spreading through my chest. Satisfied with Caleb’s answer, Riley let out a soft “Oh,” then stepped out from behind him and enthusiastically extended her hand toward me. She smiled. “Hi, I’m Riley Mercer. I’m FW’s new starting Support.” Her smile was laced with condescension, and she made sure to heavily emphasize the word starting. Looking at her bright, beautiful face, and then at Caleb standing in front of her with a warning glare fixed on me, my mind flooded with memories. I remembered the countless fights Caleb and I had after Riley announced her return to the States. “Look at other teams’ Supports, and then look at you! “Chloe, why can’t you just learn from Riley? “If you had even a third of her game sense, we wouldn’t have lost that last match!” He had probably been planning to replace me for a long time. Suddenly, the questions I had been agonizing over didn’t need to be asked anymore. I already had the answers. A strange sense of relief washed over me. I had known Caleb for ten years. Chased the esports dream with him for seven. Dated him for five. Fought alongside him on the professional stage for three. I thought we’d be partners forever. I never expected the cord to snap this easily. …… 3 I raised my eyes and looked at Riley calmly. “Hi, I’m Chloe Bennett. I’m nobody’s substitute. As of this exact second, I am officially leaving FW.” The entire team house went dead silent. Caleb’s head snapped toward me, his brows knitted in fury. “Do you even know what you’re saying?” His expression was dark. I knew exactly why he was furious. He was warning me not to test his patience. If this were the past, out of respect for his position as Captain and to avoid causing drama for the team, I would have lowered my head and backed down. But now… “I’ve already spoken with upper management to terminate my contract.” I bypassed him, handing a stack of folders to Manager Davis. “These are all the signed release forms. Keep them safe.” “Chloe!” Caleb’s sharp voice stopped me in my tracks. “Think this through. If you leave me, what organization is going to want you? Do you have any idea—” “I know,” I chuckled lightly, cutting him off. I shot a meaningful glance at Riley standing behind him and answered a question he hadn’t asked. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore.” The subtext was clear: We’re breaking up, Caleb. I’m dumping you. Caleb’s face turned an ugly shade of pale. He was so furious he practically gritted his teeth as he delivered his final warning: “I’m not going to tolerate your little temper tantrums this time, Chloe. If you walk out that door, do not regret it!” He honestly believed this was just a bluff, that I would eventually crawl back and apologize like I always did. The only answer he got was the sight of my back as I walked away. In every single argument we’d ever had, the conflict only ended because I was the “good girlfriend.” Whether it was our synergy in the game or our dynamic in real life, Caleb had never compromised for me. Not even once. So what was this about him tolerating me? As I pushed open the front doors of the facility, I raised my hand to block out the blinding sunlight, walking away without a single ounce of hesitation. Behind me, I could faintly hear the sound of something shattering violently against the floor. …… 4 After leaving the FW facility, I wandered the streets aimlessly for three days. During that time, I reached out to numerous teams, but every single one of them gave me polite, evasive rejections. It wasn’t until a female manager from a mid-tier team took pity on me that I found out the truth. She called me privately and confessed that Caleb had already put the word out. He had blacklisted me across the league. No one was going to take me in. After hanging up, I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white, eventually letting out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. So this was what he meant by “do not regret it.” Caleb came from old money. His family was rich and deeply connected. When he first started playing professionally, it was little more than a hobby for a bored rich kid. But as he started winning, that hobby evolved into a dream. Even though more and more female players have been entering the esports scene in recent years, the mountain of prejudice still forces most women into the Support role. The community loves to act magnanimous, patting themselves on the back for allowing a woman on the roster. But at the same time, they are incredibly stingy. They only feel comfortable placing women in roles they perceive as “low-impact.” It’s an unspoken rule: everyone just assumes female players are biologically inferior to men when it comes to mechanical skill. They’d rather strip women of their infinite potential than trust them to carry the game. Just like with Caleb and me. No matter what actually happened on the server, whenever we lost a match, the vitriol was always aimed at me: “This is why girls shouldn’t play. Why did they draft a female Support?!” “Is she sleeping with the managers to keep her roster spot?” “Go back to the kitchen, stop ruining our games!” Not once did anyone question if Caleb made the wrong macro call. Compared to other male ADCs in the league, Caleb faced almost zero criticism. And the only reason for that was because his Support was me—and I happened to be a woman. …… 5 On the fifth day of my fruitless job hunt, just as I was starting to doubt whether I was truly cut out for esports, someone completely unexpected showed up. Captain of Ghost Town (GT) and FW’s biggest rival. Hunter Vance. Before I could even process what was happening, he casually greeted the owner of the local burger joint, grabbed two cans of soda from the cooler, and slid into the booth across from me. He cracked one open with one hand, slid it over to me, and lounged back, sipping from the other. He looked so relaxed you’d think he was nursing a cold beer on a beach. I just stared at him, totally bewildered. Seeing me frozen, he lazily lifted an eyebrow. “Our org bans alcohol during the season.” He paused, frowning slightly. “Did you want a beer? I mean, I can pay the fine if we get caught…” He muttered something else under his breath that I didn’t catch. The whole situation felt absurd. “What are you doing here?” I asked. Hunter and I weren’t exactly friends, but we weren’t strangers either. As opponents, we’d nod at each other backstage and shake hands after matches. That was the extent of it. But I knew his reputation. Just like Caleb, he was the face of his franchise. A superstar. But where Caleb played the gentle, polished nice guy for the cameras, Hunter had a very different label: “A serious face hiding a totally chaotic, trash-talking esports bad boy.” And he had a venomous tongue. Just like right now. He set his soda down, looking at me with a half-smile. “Unemployed? Packing up to go work on a farm? “Getting too old? Hands too slow? “Honestly, watching you and Caleb play the bot lane… I could scatter birdseed on my keyboard, and a pigeon would have better movement than you two.” Me: “……” And here I thought he came to comfort me. Hunter seemed to read my mind. He scoffed, giving me a side-eye. “What are you expecting? I’m not that fake nice-guy Caleb, playing to the cameras and running a charity.” Me: “……” In the span of thirty seconds, he absolutely verbally dismantled me. It was a stark reminder of why pro players are often called “keyboard warriors.” I tried to argue back at first, but eventually, I was reduced to just nodding aggressively like a turtle, deeply agreeing with his roast. Hunter found this highly amusing. He laughed and muttered, “Useless.” Then, he pulled an unlit cigarette from his pocket, held it between his lips, and asked me with the casualness of discussing the weather: “Hey, loser. Wanna join our team?” I nodded numbly, taking a solid ten seconds to process the words before my head snapped up. I stared at him in utter shock. “W-what did you just say?” My heart started hammering against my ribs. I was terrified. Terrified that he was just mocking me in my lowest moment, but also terrified that my own cowardice would make me miss this lifeline. I nervously fumbled for words. “B-but your roster is full, isn’t it?” GT was a stacked roster. They didn’t even need substitutes. “Management is making some roster changes,” Hunter said smoothly. He picked up his soda again. But when he met my wide, panicked eyes, he slowly set it back down. He ground his teeth. “What is that look? Give me a straight answer. Yes or no. Or I’m taking the offer off the table.” He looked incredibly annoyed, like a dad scolding his disappointing kid. But I didn’t care. The only words that registered in my brain were taking the offer off the table. Instinctively, I lunged forward and grabbed his hand across the table, shouting, “I’m in! I’m in! Please don’t take it back!” My yelling earned us some weird looks from the other tables. Hunter just stared down at where my hands were gripping his for a solid thirty seconds. Then, he cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered, “Keep it down.” Thinking he was disgusted by the physical contact, I quickly pulled my hands back and sat up perfectly straight. But as I followed him out of the diner and walked behind him toward the GT team house, I noticed the back of his neck was violently red. Hunter reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and cursed under his breath, “Damn heat. It’s too hot today.” ……

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