I asked my best friend to try on her bridesmaid dress. Instead, she walked out wearing my bridal gown. That should have been the first red flag. On the morning of the wedding, the final flag was waved. Sienna and my fiancé, Preston, stumbled out of the same hotel room together, clothes disheveled, hair a mess. The hotel staff froze in shock. My parents were screaming, on the verge of hysterics. Preston walked over to me, guilt written all over his face, and pulled me into a hug. I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. Instead, I smiled calmly and told them, right then and there, that they could have the wedding. “Take the ceremony,” I said. “It’s yours.” Sienna smirked, triumphant. She thought she had won. She had no idea. Because the moment Preston wrapped his arms around me, the antique silver cross my grandmother left me shattered against my chest. Nana had warned me once: If the cross breaks, it has taken a death blow for you. It blocks a disaster. An Absolute Calamity. 1 “Meredith, listen, last night was a mistake. I grabbed the wrong dress in the dark, and Preston… well, he’d had too much whiskey. He didn’t realize it wasn’t you.” Sienna, my maid of honor and supposed best friend, was saying the words, but the smirk playing on her lips told a different story. It was a look of triumph, sharp and unmistakable. I knew exactly what that look meant. Preston came from old money. He had that effortless, Ivy League charm and the kind of inheritance that meant he’d never have to work a day in his life. In the six months he’d spent courting me, the gifts had piled up—Diamond tennis bracelets, vintage handbags—totaling more than most people earn in a decade. I had finally said yes. And this was how the morning of my wedding began. The scene in the hotel suite was grotesque, almost comical. Sienna was standing there in my custom Vera Wang gown—now shredded at the hem and ripped at the shoulder—her exposed skin a roadmap of what had happened the night before. Preston, my fiancé, stood with his head hanging low, unable to meet my eyes. My father, usually a man of quiet dignity, lost it. He lunged past the hotel staff, landing a clumsy kick on Preston’s thigh, screaming obscenities that echoed down the corridor. The staff held him back, but the fury in the room was suffocating. Preston stumbled, straightened his tuxedo shirt, and finally walked over to me. He pulled me into a tentative, apologetic hug. “Meredith, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his breath stale with last night’s alcohol. “But what’s done is done. Maybe… maybe it’s best if you just let us be happy.” The audacity took my breath away. I wasn’t blind. I had seen the way he looked at her over dinners. Sienna was curvier than me, louder, more willing to play the games men like Preston enjoyed. During our engagement, he had dropped hints about what he wanted in the bedroom, hints I had deflected, saving that intimacy for marriage. Everyone in the room—the staff, my parents, Sienna—braced themselves. They expected a slap. They expected me to scream. Instead, I smiled. It was a calm, hollow thing. “Okay,” I said. The room went silent. “The venue is paid for,” I continued, my voice steady. “The guests are arriving. You two should just get married. Right here. Today.” Preston let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours. “Meredith… I knew you were classy. Thank you.” My parents looked like they were going to have strokes. My mother looked ready to grab a broom from the housekeeper and beat me with it. “Meredith!” my dad roared. “You’re letting these—these animals get away with it? Where is your pride?” I didn’t answer. I grabbed their arms and dragged them toward the elevator, away from the wreckage of my wedding. Around the corner, out of sight, I reached into my blouse and pulled out the silver chain I’d worn every day since I was a child. “Mom, Dad,” I said quietly, opening my hand. “Nana’s cross.” The antique silver crucifix, once smooth and solid, lay in my palm in two jagged pieces. The anger instantly drained from my parents’ faces, replaced by a pale, trembling fear. My mother hit the elevator button repeatedly, her eyes darting to the security cameras. “Did that… did that just happen?” she whispered. My father’s face went from flushed to chalk-white. His hands shook. “No. It can’t be.” I nodded. “It shattered the second Preston hugged me.” My parents exchanged a look of pure terror. The elevator doors Dinged open. “We’re moving,” Dad announced, his voice tight. “Now.” As we stormed out of the hotel lobby, we passed the life-sized cutouts of the bride and groom. My father kicked Preston’s cardboard standee across the marble floor, then grabbed the one of me. My mother was already on the phone with the wedding planner, her voice low and frantic. “Take everything down. Every photo of Meredith. Every banner with her name. Burn it if you have to. There can be no trace of her left in that ballroom.” Seeing the genuine panic in their eyes, the numbness in my chest cracked. I pulled out my phone and deleted every photo of Preston, every contact, every digital footprint. We fled the hotel like criminals. By nightfall, we had packed our lives into boxes and were driving out of the state. 2 To understand the panic, you have to understand Nana. My grandmother wasn’t just a superstitious old woman. In the rural county where she grew up, she was known as a Seer. The locals whispered that she wasn’t entirely human, that she had the blood of the mountain spirits in her veins. She never missed a prediction. Not once. She lived to be ninety-nine. She died on a crisp, bright winter afternoon, sitting in her rocking chair on the porch. She had petted the old golden retriever twice, then called my name. “Meredith.” I was eight years old. When I ran to her, she took off the heavy silver cross she had worn her entire life and fastened it around my neck. “Merry, you keep this on. Never take it off,” she had rasped, her voice like dry leaves. “If this cross ever breaks, it means it has taken a death blow for you.” She gripped my small hand with surprising strength. “If it breaks, you run. You run from whoever is closest to you at that moment. Because when the cross breaks, it means a Calamity is coming. An absolute Calamity.” “What kind of calamity, Nana?” I had asked, innocent and confused. She looked at me, her eyes milky with age, and whispered two words. “Hollow Creek.” Then she closed her eyes and was gone. Her funeral was an event. People came from three counties over—mayors, sheriffs, heavy hitters. I told my parents about the cross and the words “Hollow Creek.” They turned pale, refused to explain, and immediately moved us to the city. Now, years later, the memory felt cold against my skin. The scandal of Preston and Sienna was tearing through our social circle. At first, people were disgusted. Sienna was the villain, the treacherous best friend. But when word got out that I had handed over the wedding—gift-wrapped the groom and the venue—the narrative shifted. People called me weak. A doormat. A coward who let them walk all over me. I didn’t care. Let them talk. Sienna, meanwhile, was basking in her victory. She was Mrs. Preston distinct now. Her Instagram stories were a relentless parade of the life that was supposed to be mine. The ten-carat solitaire diamond. The two-million-dollar check from his parents. The video of Preston kneeling to put a crystal shoe on her foot. Thank you, Meredith, she captioned one photo. And thank you to the brave girl I was, for following her heart. I chose love AND money. Life is short. Seize it. Preston played the part of the doting husband, posting photos of them kissing on yachts and in penthouses. Our mutual “friends” flocked to her comments section, eager to stay close to the money. Some people just aren’t meant for the high life, one commented, digging at me. Sienna replied with a winking emoji. I scrolled through her feed in our new, temporary apartment, and for the first time in days, I laughed aloud. She had no idea what she had actually stolen. Sienna wasn’t just enjoying the money; she was monetizing the scandal. She spun the narrative of “The Great Love Story,” gaining 50,000 followers overnight. Her comments were filled with girls calling her a “Queen” and saying “The unloved one is the mistress.” When the internet found out my family had fled the city, the mockery intensified. Cowards, they typed. Running away with their tails between their legs. I could handle the insults aimed at me. But when they started attacking my parents, calling them pathetic, I snapped. I logged into a burner account and typed under Sienna’s latest post: Insult me all you want, but leave my parents out of it. And Sienna, stop using my name for clout. 3 I regretted the comment the second I hit send. I blocked her immediately afterwards. Sienna didn’t reply, but I saw she liked every nasty comment directed at me. I shook my head. Karma is a patient hunter, I thought. We had moved hundreds of miles away, settling in a quiet, nondescript town halfway across the country. It was isolated, the kind of place where neighbors mind their own business. My mother wanted a city nearby, but my father insisted on distance. That night, over a dinner of takeout noodles, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Mom, Dad,” I asked, putting down my chopsticks. “What did Nana mean? What is the ‘Absolute Calamity’? And what is Hollow Creek?” The room went still. My mother put a piece of braised pork into my father’s bowl, her hand trembling slightly. “She’s an adult now,” Mom said softly. “We should tell her.” Dad hesitated, looking aged and weary, before nodding. “Hollow Creek,” Mom said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you remember the name?” “Nana told me before she died.” “Hollow Creek was a village about ten miles from where we grew up,” Mom said. “About three hundred people lived there. Then, one night, every single one of them died.” The air in the kitchen seemed to drop ten degrees. “Died?” I asked. “Like… a plague? A landslide?” “No,” Dad said, staring at the table. “They hung themselves.” I felt the blood drain from my face. “All of them?” “Every man, woman, and child,” Mom whispered. “Mass suicide. Or… mass execution. But there was no one else there.” “Why?” I managed to ask. My parents looked at each other, their eyes dark with a fear that hadn’t faded in decades. “They said,” Dad choked out, “that the village was haunted.” I sat there, the silence ringing in my ears. Nana hadn’t just given me a piece of jewelry; she had given me a shield against something ancient and evil. The cross shattering meant the shield was broken. The target had shifted. Preston wasn’t just a cheater. He was a lightning rod for something terrible. Why now? Why did the cross break when he touched me after sleeping with Sienna? Had Nana foreseen the betrayal too? My phone buzzed on the table. A strange number. I picked it up cautiously. “Hello?” “Meredith? Is that you? Are you okay?” It was Preston. His voice was smooth, concerned, oblivious. I hung up immediately and blocked the number. From that night on, I stopped answering calls. I was terrified. Meanwhile, Sienna’s life of luxury continued online. But she was getting bored. Late one night, I saw a notification. She was live. 4 Sienna was sitting on a velvet sofa that cost more than my car, draped in a white fur coat. She looked impeccable, but there was a manic energy in her eyes. “So bored tonight,” she told the camera, swirling a glass of wine. “Just wanted to chat with my fans.” She showed off a few Birkin bags, preening for the compliments rolling in. Then, inevitably, she brought me up. “Her? Oh, please. Some people just don’t have the destiny for wealth. The universe literally handed her a meal and she couldn’t swallow it.” She giggled. “Best friend? I mean… did she ever really act like one? She hid Preston from me for months. Insecurity is so ugly, isn’t it?” She took a sip of wine. “Where is she now? Probably hiding in some motel with her weird parents. They ran off like fugitives the day of the wedding. Maybe they’re scared I’ll sue them for emotional distress.” I watched, feeling a mix of pity and disgust. How had I ever let this person into my life? But then, the comments shifted. Sienna, the closet door behind you just moved. Is someone in there? I saw a shadow. Hey, stop joking, check the wardrobe. Sienna didn’t see them at first. But the comments flooded in, a wall of warnings. I squinted at the screen. The massive walk-in closet behind her was slightly ajar. And in the darkness near the floor… there was something. It looked like an eye. But it was too low. It was at ankle level. Sienna finally noticed the chat. She clicked her tongue. “You guys are trying to scare me. Preston is out, and the staff is in the guest house. Don’t be weird.” But the comments didn’t stop. To prove them wrong, she stood up, her heels clicking on the hardwood. “Fine. Look.” She marched over and yanked the closet door open. CRASH. A man tumbled out. He was dressed in black, wearing a ski mask, clutching a pillowcase full of jewelry. A burglar. But instead of running, or attacking her, the man scrambled backward on the floor, hyperventilating. He ripped his mask off, revealing a face drained of blood, eyes wide with pure madness. “Ghost… ghost… there’s a ghost…” he gibbered, pointing into the depths of the closet. He looked at Sienna, saw her pale neck, and let out a shriek. He threw himself into a kowtow, slamming his forehead against the floorboards. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t kill me! I didn’t mean to look! Spare me!” He slammed his head down again and again, blood smearing on the expensive wood. Sienna froze for a second, then screamed. “Help! Help! Thief!” The phone was knocked over in the chaos. The screen went black, but the audio kept running—Sienna’s screams and the burglar’s sobbing pleas for mercy from something we couldn’t see. I stared at my phone, my heart hammering against my ribs. What had that thief seen in the closet that terrified him more than getting caught? I thought of Hollow Creek. The hanging village. It was starting.

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I have a habit: no matter who I’m talking to, I always say, “That’s great!” When my real, wealthy parents finally came for me, they carefully asked if I’d mind letting the fake heiress stay. I said, “That’s great! Raising someone else’s child for them—how selfless!” At the mansion, Felicity, the fake daughter, sidled up and sweetly offered me her room. I toured the bright, spacious space. “Fantastic!” I said, patting her shoulder. “And you’re so thoughtful, knowing your big sister suffered sixteen years and offering her the best room!” Felicity went pale. Seeing her upset, my new brother Ryan shoved me. “Don’t bully her.” I rubbed my shoulder. “Awesome. You’re so strong—you must eat well.” I lowered my voice. “Unlike me. I never knew where my next meal was coming from.” Ryan glared, calling me a manipulative witch. I kept on. “Wow, that’s great! So you know all about that, huh? Tell me, does your dear Felicity fit the description?” Felicity burst into tears and ran to our mother, sobbing that I was targeting her. I just frowned. What were they talking about? I was only praising them! … Mom gave me a troubled look. “Audrey, how could you say that to your sister?” I feigned confusion, scratching my head. “But Mom, you said you wanted us all to get along. I’ve been doing my best—I haven’t stopped complimenting everyone since I walked in the door.” “But Ryan,” I added, glancing at him, “he came right at me, showing off his muscles. He bruised my shoulder.” I slipped off my jacket. Underneath, the fresh mark from Ryan’s shove was visible, but so was a constellation of older, faded scars from years of abuse. My foster parents had always known I wasn’t their real daughter, and they’d never let me forget it. They pulled me out of school the moment they legally could and forced me to work. If I hadn’t run away and literally bumped into my biological parents, they probably would have sold me off. At the sight of the old scars, my mother gasped. Ryan just stared, completely at a loss. “I… I had no idea your life was so hard.” His eyes were wide and guileless, reminding me of a kitten I had once. I couldn’t help myself. I stood on my toes, patted his head, and said, “That’s great. So now you know, right?” He just stared, then nodded dumbly. A moment later, he was eagerly hauling my luggage into Felicity’s room. Felicity stomped her foot, grabbing his arm. “Ryan! Are you taking her side against me?” He scratched his head, looking flustered. “Felicity, she’s not an outsider. She’s Mom and Dad’s real daughter. Besides,” he added, “didn’t you just offer her the room?” Felicity clearly hadn’t expected this. She ran to Mom, her eyes welling with tears. “Mom, I want to be nice to my sister, I really do, but… this room… I have so many memories here…” Before Mom could say a word, I cut in. “Mom, if my sister doesn’t genuinely want me to have her room, that’s fine. I can stay somewhere else. As long as we’re all together as a family, it doesn’t matter where I sleep.” A wave of emotion washed over my mother’s face. She stroked my hair, calling me a good, sweet girl, then ordered Ryan to move my things back to the small guest room. As he dutifully wrestled with my suitcase, I clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re doing great, Ryan!” The praise seemed to energize him. He practically carried my luggage back to my new room. I glanced over my shoulder. Felicity stood frozen in place, guarding her prize. She looked like she’d won, but also, somehow, like she hadn’t. But guilt is a fleeting emotion, while sixteen years of affection is a bond not easily broken. All Felicity had to do was squeeze out a single tear, and Mom and Ryan would flock to her side. I heard Mom’s gentle voice from inside the room. “Felicity, darling, how could you think I’d ever neglect you just because Audrey is here?” Felicity whined, “I don’t care! You’re already taking her side!” “Sweetheart,” Mom said, her voice strained, “Audrey is my biological child, after all.” Felicity shot back, “Fine! If that’s how it is, maybe I should just go back to them!” Mom’s voice rose in alarm. “Absolutely not! Those people are dirt poor. Your sister was tormented for sixteen years. How could I ever let you suffer like that?” I smiled. A cold, bitter smile. So, Mom knew. She knew I had been tormented for sixteen years. I thought of all the beatings, of hiding under the table like a dog, waiting for them to toss me scraps. Meanwhile, Felicity had been showered with fine food, expensive clothes, and all the love in the world. That’s why she could throw tantrums and act out with such confidence. She had the security I never did. It would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt. But I couldn’t cry. I wasn’t Felicity. I leaned against the doorframe, listening until the very end. When Ryan opened the door and saw me, he looked mortified. “Audrey, what are you doing here?” I put on a bright smile. “Ryan, Felicity is amazing! She cries so loudly. You can tell she’s full of life!” Unlike me. The louder I cried, the harder my foster parents hit me. Before I could say the last part, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Felicity had slapped me. Her hand was trembling as she pointed at me. “Audrey Prescott, what is your problem? Stop being so passive-aggressive!” Mom gasped when she saw Felicity hit me. For a foolish second, I thought she might actually discipline her. She didn’t. She just took Felicity’s hand, cooing like she was calming a toddler. “There, there, Felicity. You’re not pretty when you’re angry. Come on, let’s go have dinner.” She shot me an apologetic glance before leading Felicity downstairs. I stood there, my hand pressed to my swelling cheek. Ryan sighed. “Audrey, Mom just managed to calm her down. If we say anything else to her, she might do something drastic.” He brought the first-aid kit and began dabbing ointment on my face. “We’ve spoiled her rotten,” he muttered. “She’s been throwing fits ever since she heard you were coming. Just… try to avoid her for a while, okay? For everyone’s sake.” I looked down, and a tear I couldn’t stop splashed onto his hand. “Why should I?” “This is my home.” “I already gave it up to her for sixteen years. Isn’t that enough?” Ryan swallowed hard. “Audrey, it’s not Felicity’s fault… and she’s been diagnosed with depression before. If we sent her back to that family, she wouldn’t survive it.” Not her fault? I laughed inwardly, a cold, sharp sound. But I quickly smoothed my expression into a smile. “You’re doing great, Ryan. My face doesn’t even hurt anymore.” At the Prescott house, Felicity had many privileges. One of them was choosing the menu. Coincidentally, ever since my arrival, every single dish she ordered was something I was allergic to. She knew I was deathly allergic to shellfish, so on my very first night, she requested a massive seafood feast. She even “thoughtfully” tried to shove a large shrimp into my mouth. I dodged, but it grazed my lips. My mouth immediately swelled up, and the world tilted sideways before I collapsed. Felicity looked down at me with feigned concern. “Oh, sister! I know it’s your first time eating real seafood, but you don’t have to be that dramatic.” Only then did it seem to dawn on my mother. “Oh, dear! I completely forgot Audrey can’t eat shellfish!” I ended up in the hospital. Even after that, the dining table was laden with seafood for the next two days. Felicity would call out sweetly, “Sister, come and eat!” I stood at the top of the stairs. “Is there lobster?” Felicity held one up with her chopsticks. “How about baby shrimp?” She picked one up. “Crab.” She found a crab leg. “Clams.” “Mussels.” She patiently displayed every single item I named. “So, sister, which one do you want?” I gave her a thumbs-up. “That’s great! I can’t eat any of these. Did you get that for next time?” Felicity was dumber than my cat. I told her I couldn’t eat it, and she still had the chef make it day after day. I knew she was doing it on purpose. But my father just glanced at me and said, “Felicity just wants to eat seafood, Audrey. It’s not about you.” I nodded eagerly. “You’re right, you’re right. Not about me at all.” I turned to him. “Dad, you’re in great shape! Eating so much seafood for so many days straight, and you’re not even worried about your uric acid levels spiking? You’re not afraid of getting gout?” The piece of fish on his chopsticks fell onto the table with a soft plop. He cleared his throat. “Felicity, dear, let’s have the chef make some other things. Some vegetables, some meat. Lay off the seafood for a bit.” Felicity threw down her chopsticks. “I want to eat seafood! That’s all I want to eat!” Immediately, everyone rushed to console her. I, meanwhile, stirred a few cents’ worth of fermented bean curd into my plain rice and ate with gusto. My father, rubbing his temples, turned and saw me happily shoveling rice into my mouth. He couldn’t help but ask, “Audrey, there’s nothing on the table you can eat. How can you look so happy?” Oh, so he knew. He knew there was nothing for me. He just couldn’t be bothered to intervene in his children’s squabbles. I put down my clean bowl. “Of course. The food I used to eat was spoiled. Just getting to eat fresh, white rice is a luxury for me.” “Mom, Dad, Ryan, Felicity, I’m full. You guys enjoy.” I ignored the guilty looks they shot my way, washed my bowl, and went upstairs. I heard later that my father revoked Felicity’s menu privileges. He told the chef to start making some of my favorite dishes. When Ryan told me, he expected me to be touched, maybe even cry with gratitude. I was mostly just confused. Wasn’t making food I could eat the bare minimum? But I played my part, putting on a naive smile. “That’s great! Does this mean I can finally have big chicken drumsticks and that delicious braised pork belly?” Ryan’s eyes grew misty. He patted my head. “Is that all you want? Chicken and pork? Anything else, just tell me and I’ll let the chef know.” “No need,” I said lightly. “You should make some seafood, too. It’s Felicity’s favorite.” The next day, a huge platter of seafood sat in front of Felicity. In front of me sat a plate of braised pork and a crispy chicken leg. I beamed. “This is perfect! Now my sister and I both get to eat what we like!” High society life means endless parties and galas. When I came downstairs in my custom-made gown, Felicity clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, sister! That dress looks ridiculous on you.” I nodded in agreement. “It’s amazing, right? Custom-made for my measurements, and it’s still this baggy.” Mom, looking irritated, summoned the tailor and demanded an explanation. The terrified woman confessed immediately. “It was Miss Felicity. She told me Miss Audrey would surely gain weight and that I should make it a few sizes larger.” Mom turned to Felicity. Felicity just pouted. “I was just trying to be thoughtful! How was I supposed to know she wouldn’t gain any weight? It’s like we’re starving her or something.” I nodded silently. That’s great. You hit the nail right on the head. Felicity only wanted to embarrass me; she hadn’t considered that as a Prescott, my appearance reflected on the family. But Mom couldn’t bring herself to scold her darling, so she just hassled the poor tailor to alter the dress on the spot. “Forget it, it’s fine,” I said, grabbing a wrap from the hall closet and draping it over my shoulders. “This way, you can’t even tell.” Mom and Dad were busy networking, and Ryan was quickly absorbed by his friends. Before he left, he entrusted me to Felicity. “Audrey, Felicity has lots of friends here. You should go meet them.” “That’s great, Ryan. You’re so considerate.” I smiled, my eyes crinkling at the corners. He completely missed the sarcasm. “Right? I’m a good brother.” Felicity took my hand and dragged me over to her clique. Then, they all started speaking rapid-fire English. They’d talk for a bit, then stop abruptly and stare at me, waiting for a reaction. I just maintained a polite, placid smile. After a few seconds of silence, Felicity let out a giggle. “Audrey, they’re asking for your name. Don’t tell me you can’t even understand that?” One of her friends wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, where did this country bumpkin come from? She can’t even speak English.” I just smiled and nodded. “That’s great. Your English really is excellent.” “My foster parents—Felicity’s biological parents—abused me, so I had to drop out of school years ago.” Her friends froze. “Wait, what? Is that true?” one of them finally asked. “Felicity, isn’t Mr. Prescott your father?” To protect Felicity’s feelings, my parents had never publicly announced the switch. They were even considering letting me stay on as the “adopted” daughter, while Felicity remained the true heiress. Before Felicity could answer, I did. “No. Felicity is the fake heiress. I’m the real one they switched me with.” Felicity’s face turned ugly. She ripped the wrap from my shoulders. “You’re lying, Audrey!” she shrieked. “I’m the real one! I’m their real daughter!” Every head in the room turned toward us. The ill-fitting dress hung off my skinny frame, making me look like a clown. I reached for my wrap, but Felicity grabbed a glass of red wine and threw it in my face. She smirked. “You like saying ‘that’s great,’ right? So tell me, how great was that?” She looked up, saw our parents rushing over, and viciously pinched her own arm, forcing out two fat tears. “Mom! Dad! Sister said I’m not your child… Why? I’ve always thought of you as my real parents.” Predictably, they immediately started comforting her. Then my father turned on me. “Audrey, didn’t we discuss this? You and Felicity are both our children. Why would you say such things?” I smiled. “That’s great. So, for Felicity’s sake, you’re going to tell the world I’m the adopted one?” Mom looked desperate. “The switch was an accident! It wasn’t Felicity’s fault. She’s innocent!” I let out a bitter laugh. “Mom, Dad, you could find out if it was an accident with one simple investigation. If Felicity is so innocent, how did she know about my seafood allergy and serve me a death platter on my first night?” Ryan jumped to her defense. “Audrey, it was just a coincidence! She wanted to give you the best…” I was suddenly so tired. All they had to do was look at her phone, check her bank transfers. It was all there. I looked straight at Felicity. “Mom and Dad have been trying to protect you, trying to keep you from finding out you were the fake heiress. They’ve been secretly searching for me for the past two years. But the truth is, you’ve known all along, haven’t you?” Her face went pale. “What are you talking about?” “Are you brave enough to let me see your phone?” I held out my hand. Naturally, she refused. But under the weight of everyone’s stares, she flushed with anger and shoved the phone at me. “Fine! Look all you want, Audrey!” But when I opened her messaging app, there was nothing incriminating. Wait. She had to have a second account. Just as I was about to switch, Felicity’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed. I was stunned. The words just fell out of my mouth. “Brilliant. The acting is just top-notch.” Suddenly, my head snapped to the side from the force of a blow. I looked up to see my father, his face purple with rage. “Yes, you’re right! We love Felicity!” he roared. “No matter what she’s done, our feelings for her will always be stronger than our feelings for you! Are you satisfied now?!”

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My husband’s little songbird had him on a KPI: twelve nights a month in her bed. This month, buried in work, he only managed eleven. So the girl threw a tantrum—a full day of nothing but tears, refusing all food and drink. And Alexander, desperate to soothe his precious bird, came begging to me, his actual wife. “Sandra, please,” he pleaded. “Just help me out. Tell her I didn’t sleep with you this month. It’s just one sentence.” He was right, of course. The intimacy between us had died long ago. Ever since he first cheated three years back, my body had developed a visceral, traumatic response to his touch. Any time he tried, I would be seized by a suffocating panic. He tried a few times. I was rushed to the emergency room a few times. After that, he didn’t dare touch me again. He still claimed I was the love of his life, the only one he truly cherished. But he never stopped cheating. I dialed the girl’s number, my voice a calm, flat line. “Alexander is all yours now. He always will be.” When I hung up, Alexander assumed I was jealous. He tried to placate me. “You know you’ll always have a place in my heart.” But I don’t want you anymore, Alexander. We’ve been separated for nearly two years. The court will grant the divorce. … But the girl wasn’t soothed. She didn’t believe it. She sent Alexander packing, right back to me. He returned looking utterly defeated, at a complete loss. He started trying to reason with me again. I cut straight to the point. “Alexander, what exactly do you want me to do?” Seeing me so composed, so devoid of anger, he dropped all pretense. “We’ll get a doctor to check you. There are specialists for this.” “Don’t worry,” he added quickly, “I’ll make sure it’s a female doctor. A thorough exam. It’s the only way to prove to her we haven’t been together recently.” He paused, his voice softening into the gentle tone he used for a child. “She’s just a simple girl, a bit stubborn. This is the only way she’ll believe it. Don’t take it personally.” He raised a hand, a fond look in his eyes, as if to pat my head. “You’ve always been the reasonable one. Not like her, always making a scene.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I recoiled as if from something rotten, putting as much distance between us as I could. A tight band of pain squeezed my chest, and the familiar feeling of suffocation crept in. My heart had turned to ash for him long ago, but to hear him make such a request—for his mistress—was like a blade twisting in an old wound. My revulsion was palpable, as if I were dodging filth. In the beginning, this reaction had wounded him deeply. But after years of it, he’d grown accustomed to it. Now, fearing he’d make it worse, he took a step back himself. “Just think of it as a routine check-up,” he coaxed gently. “There’s no need to stress.” The sickness in my gut intensified. I clutched my chest and let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Don’t push me too far, Alexander.” “If you want to appease her, just give me a divorce! That would solve everything!” My voice was raw with fury. He knew he was in the wrong, so he didn’t press the issue. His tone softened again. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. You’re the most important person in my life. You always will be.” “Just calm down.” He always said that. Always told me I was the most important, right before he went crawling back to her bed. He was so sure of himself, so confident in his wealth and power, that he thought I would tolerate this degrading triangle. After all, I had fought tooth and nail to become Mrs. Alexander Prescott, beating out a legion of his other admirers. He was certain I would never give up the life of luxury he provided. What Cinderella, once she’s in the castle, would ever want to leave? He didn’t know that this Cinderella had already saved up enough to buy her own damn kingdom. His phone buzzed, the special ringtone he’d set just for Poppy. The song was called “The Only One.” Even with me standing there, trembling with rage, he answered it. I could hear Poppy’s shrill, tearful voice through the phone. “Alexander! I was eighteen when I got with you! You’re a liar! A heartbreaker! You promised me!” “You promised! Twelve times a month, and you wouldn’t touch the woman at home! That was the deal for being your bird in a cage!” “You’re a fraud! We’re done! I’m not giving you another chance to hurt me!” Of all the women he kept, Poppy was the only one who wasn’t afraid of him. She was the most demanding, the most spoiled. He doted on her completely. A year ago, when his mother passed away unexpectedly, he, as her only son, was supposed to keep vigil by her casket. But Poppy got drunk, called him sobbing, and begged him to come to her. And he did. He left me to keep vigil over his mother’s casket while he ran off to comfort Poppy. That night, she sent me a photo. A taunt. He’s exhausted. Wore himself out on me all night and fell asleep. Hope you’re managing things at home. I don’t know how I survived that night. The pain in my chest was so intense I thought my heart would stop. Before Poppy, Alexander had been a devoted son. That was the night I knew. It wasn’t just physical anymore. He had given her his heart. He loved her. Loved her enough to trample all over my dignity. “You are the bane of my existence!” I heard him yell into the phone, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. “I’ve told you a hundred times, and you still don’t believe me! Fine! I’ll have a doctor examine her tomorrow!” “Will you believe me then?!” I stared at him. After my furious refusal, he had actually agreed to it, all to placate her. Early the next morning, Poppy showed up. With a male doctor in tow. Alexander was shocked. “No,” he said, his face hardening. “No male doctors. It has to be a woman.” His jaw was tight, a flicker of jealousy in his eyes. For all his infidelity, he was still fiercely possessive of me. If I so much as spoke to another man for too long, his temper would flare. A classic case of “do as I say, not as I do.” Poppy’s face soured. “How do I know a female doctor isn’t on her payroll? What if you two conspire to trick me?” He indulged her, as always. “Fine. Find your own female doctor, then. Is that acceptable?” She pouted but reluctantly agreed. They were really acting as if I had no say in the matter. Without a word, I walked straight up to Poppy and slapped her, hard, across the face. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I hissed, a surge of righteous fury coursing through me. “You’re a mistress, a dirty little secret! What right do you have to interfere in my marriage bed?” To twist the knife, I added, “The reason Alexander missed your precious KPI is because he was with me seven times. The man is exhausted.” The number was a bomb. Poppy’s face crumpled. “You see!” she shrieked at Alexander, tears streaming down her face. “She admits it! You’re still lying to me!” Alexander turned on me, his eyes blazing. “What the hell are you talking about? Isn’t this chaotic enough for you?” Poppy, clutching her stinging cheek, ran out of the house. Alexander immediately chased after her. But as he ran, he threw a final, ironic order over his shoulder to the housekeeper. “Make sure my wife takes her medicine.” Ever since my traumatic response to him began, he’d been spending a fortune on various treatments and medications to “cure” me. “It will get better,” he would always say. “Once you’re well, we can have a baby.” He didn’t know I poured every single pill down the drain. I was just counting the days until I could finally leave. On my way to the embassy to finalize my visa, I was intercepted by Alexander’s men. I was dragged back to the villa, restrained, and forced onto a cold, hard examination table. Five female doctors tied my wrists and ankles down. As I struggled, one of the doctor’s phones rang with a video call. Poppy’s voice filled the room. “Make sure you check her thoroughly.” “Rest assured, Miss. We’re professionals in this field.” “Poppy, you will rot in hell for this!” I screamed, thrashing against my restraints. “And you, Alexander! You’ll rot right alongside her!” I knew he was there, with her. And then I heard his voice. “Sandra, Poppy is pregnant. I’m thirty-five. Please don’t make this difficult for me.”

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I was the eighteenth substitute Alexander Kingsley found for his lost love. I was also the one who looked the least like her. He announced our relationship to the world with a fleet of a thousand drones on Valentine’s Day. He journeyed to a treacherous, snow-capped peak to retrieve a rare mountain blossom, just to soothe an old ailment of mine. When his family refused to accept a “gutter girl” like me, he staged a hunger strike and even endured his father’s brutal cane to win their approval. Everyone said he had long forgotten his first love, that he was utterly devoted to me. But on the eve of our wedding, he had the bride’s name on everything changed to Isabelle’s. When his friends questioned him, he just smiled. “With her around for the past few years, my parents finally stopped suspecting I was flying abroad to find Isabelle.” “She was just a tool, a distraction to draw their fire so they’d finally give in. The only one I ever intended to marry was Isabelle.” Everyone was waiting for me to have a meltdown. But I just clutched the check with its staggering number of zeroes and breathed a sigh of relief. Perfect. At least now I wouldn’t be committing bigamy. … After a full day of grueling “wifely instruction” at the Kingsley family manor, I dragged my aching, exhausted body to the wedding venue. Hearing those words had left me numb. So this is what it was like to truly love someone—to willingly clear every obstacle and thorn from their path. I forced a smile and greeted them. When Alexander saw me, a flicker of guilt crossed his face. He cleared his throat and had his planner friend cover up any wedding items that showed a bride’s face. Then he smiled and reached for my hand. The moment his fingers brushed mine, I sucked in a sharp breath of pain. He froze, his brow furrowing as he looked down at my battered palms. “They punished you again?” I managed a weak smile. “Yes. I was too clumsy, kept making mistakes.” He sighed. “That will all be over soon. I promise.” Ever since he’d declared he would marry no one but me, parading me at family dinners and anniversary celebrations, I’d been summoned to the manor for regular “lessons.” I’d spend hours kneeling before the stern portraits of his ancestors, copying pages of their family history. One mistake meant the sting of a hard wooden ruler against my palms until they were raw and bloody. One misremembered fact earned twenty sharp slaps across the face, forcing me to choke back the taste of my own blood and continue. Once, I shed a single tear in his presence and was accused of failing to be a stoic partner. My punishment was to kneel for hours on the freezing marble of the winter veranda. He had shown a brief flash of pity for me then, telling me to just hold on, that all this suffering would end after we were married. But it was only a flash. The moment he saw a message from Isabelle on his phone, he abandoned me without a second thought. And because I had “failed to hold my husband’s heart,” the maids stripped me, took photos, and sent them to him. Even that didn’t stop him from running to her. And just like that, I became the laughingstock of high society. As I was lost in thought, Isabelle burst into the room, her eyes red. “You’re really going to marry her? You told me you would love me forever, that you’d marry no one else! Did you call me back just to watch you get married to someone else?” With a dramatic flourish, she ripped the cloth from the welcome stand. When she saw her own portrait printed on it, her tears turned into a triumphant smile. “I knew you were just trying to make me jealous!” She looped her arm through Alexander’s and shot me a smug look. “Honey, you see now, don’t you? He was waiting for me all along. Sorry you had to take the heat for a few years.” “If you ever fall on hard times, let me know. For playing the part of my stand-in, I’ll be sure to help you out.” They exchanged a knowing glance. The panic in Alexander’s eyes melted into a look of pure bliss. He pulled out a crisp new credit card and handed it to me. “I’m sorry I deceived you. I only ever saw you as a shield to protect Isabelle. Now that things are back to how they should be, we’re finished. This is more than enough to set you up for life. Find a good man.” I stared at the card, the scene suddenly reminding me of the day I said goodbye to the husband I thought I’d lost. A sourness pricked my eyes. “Can’t we… wait? Just a few more days.” My voice was a whisper, lost under the rattling of the crystal chandelier overhead. He leaned in, about to ask what I’d said. In a flash of sparks and a sharp clink, everyone’s eyes shot upward. “Look out!” Alexander instinctively pulled Isabelle into his arms. My own instinct was to shove him clear. Thump. Something warm trickled down my neck, followed by a dull, throbbing pain in the back of my head. “Are you insane?” Seeing the flicker of alarm on Alexander’s face, I shook my head. Before I could speak, Isabelle cried out. “Alex, my hand hurts…” The concern in his eyes for me vanished instantly, replaced by sheer panic as he scooped her up. “Isabelle can’t stand pain. I’ll have the driver take you to the hospital.” He was gone like the wind, his retreating back and hers blurring through my tears. “Why do you always leave me behind?” I whispered. His footsteps faltered for a second, but then he was gone. I woke up in a hospital. Alexander stood over me, his brow furrowed in apprehension, as if terrified I would use this “life-saving” act to blackmail him. “You know I hate clingy women,” he said coldly. “But since you saved my life, I’ll give you three days. Heal up, get all your things out of the villa before the wedding. I don’t want Isabelle to be upset by any of it.” I nodded, my gaze dimming. My reaction must have been too placid, not at all what he expected from someone supposedly deeply in love. He seemed about to say more, but his phone rang. Isabelle was on the other end, sobbing hysterically. The ache in Alexander’s eyes was palpable. “Alex, I’m so sorry, I never should have come back! If I hadn’t, Amelia wouldn’t have felt so threatened and staged that whole heroic rescue act.” “Thank God I only got a small cut. If you had been hurt, how could I ever face your parents?” He didn’t engage with her accusation, just offered a few soothing words and hung up. We looked at each other for a long moment before I spoke softly. “It wasn’t me.” He took a deep breath. “I know. You were at the manor being punished all day. And my friends have never liked you enough to help you pull a stunt like that. One of them already told me what happened. It was her. She felt insecure when she saw me showing you some concern, so she staged the whole thing.” He then took my phone and deleted the contact information of all his friends. “There. I’m leaving. Get some rest.” Just as he turned to go, the door to my room flew open. Isabelle’s mother swept in, followed by the family butler carrying a box of their cruel instruments of “discipline.” Without a word, she slapped me hard across the face. “How dare you endanger Alex just to win his affection? If we don’t teach you a lesson now, you’ll be completely out of control after you’re married!” They dragged me onto the floor. Alexander started to speak, but Isabelle rushed in. “I’m the one who told her, Alex. You’re not mad at me, are you? I just want anyone who tries to hurt you to pay the price!” The butler pulled out a pair of pliers and forced my mouth open. My eyes, wide with terror, locked onto Alexander’s. “It wasn’t me, it was her—” The next instant, terrified I would expose Isabelle, Alexander snatched the pliers and shoved them into my mouth. With a sickening crack, two of my lower teeth were ripped from their sockets. His voice was savage, yet it trembled. “You do something wrong, you face the consequences! Even if you are my fiancée! Let this be a lesson. Never again say things you shouldn’t, or manipulate others into doing your dirty work!” Blood filled my mouth, hot and choking. They left in a storm of righteous fury, leaving me crumpled and disgraced on the floor. A moment later, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Alexander. 【I haven’t told my family about the change of bride yet. Isabelle was just scared of losing me, so she acted out and framed you.】 【If my mother found out she was behind it, she’d never accept her. You’re used to the Kingsley family discipline. Taking it one more time won’t kill you. Consider it interest paid for all the years you had me to yourself. Be grateful.】 A tight, crushing pain seized my chest. He knew I wasn’t the one marrying him. He knew I was innocent. Yet he still made me endure it all. Tears splashed onto the phone screen. He would never have treated me like this. After sending his mother-in-law-to-be away, Alexander returned with Isabelle. As compensation, he had the best dentist flown in to repair my teeth. On the way back to the villa, Isabelle sat in the passenger seat, chattering about her exciting life abroad, the two of them reminiscing about their sweet past. Watching the tender, adoring look on Alexander’s face, a wave of bitterness washed over me. If it weren’t for the accident, I could have had a life filled with that same warmth. My eyes welled up, and I ducked my head, sniffing quietly. Suddenly, Isabelle glanced at me in the rearview mirror, her eyes mocking. “Oh, I shouldn’t be talking about all this, should I? I’m making you sad. You can’t bear to part with Alex, can you? Why don’t you stay on as a maid? It suits your background perfectly. You can take care of him and still see him from time to time to ease your lovesick heart.” “What do you think, Alex?” Alexander’s eyes met mine in the mirror. He slammed on the brakes at a red light, turned, and cupped her face, kissing her deeply. They only broke apart when the horns behind them started blaring. “You don’t need to test me,” he murmured to her. “I only love you.” “But,” he added, glancing back at me, “if you want a capable maid, she can stay. She knows how to do everything. I’d feel better knowing she was here to look after you.” They flirted and teased the rest of the way home, their affection thick and cloying. The moment we walked through the door, they disappeared into the master bedroom, a tangle of limbs and pent-up desire. I went to my own room to pack. The sounds from their room were impossible to ignore, each cry louder than the last, a blatant performance meant for my ears. Even with headphones on, I couldn’t block them out. After a long while, my door opened. Alexander tossed a soiled bedsheet at my feet. “Hand-wash this. Then go make her some restorative soup. I have to go deal with wedding preparations. To avoid my family getting suspicious, you’ll pack your things while taking care of her for the next few days.” “Once the wedding is over smoothly, you can leave.” I opened my mouth to protest, but a gasp came from the other room. Isabelle appeared, wrapped in a silk robe, her steps unsteady and her face flushed. In her hand was a necklace—crudely made, but crafted from the finest materials. “Alex, darling… when we were… well, it hurt a little, and I accidentally pulled on this. It snapped. I hope it wasn’t important.” It was a gift Alexander had won for me at a high-end auction last year, on our anniversary. All he knew was that I had a tacky affection for such artless things. What he didn’t know was that it was one of the last things my husband had left behind before he faked his death, a decoy created to throw his enemies off his trail. It was our promise, our token of love. I had searched for it for years, finally spotting it at that auction. Seeing the necklace lying in two pieces, my vision blurred with red. I lunged forward and shoved her. “You did this on purpose! I kept it hidden in a drawer! Who told you to touch my things?” She stumbled and fell, the loose robe slipping to reveal the dark bruises of passion on her skin. She looked up at me, a perfect picture of wounded innocence. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” Alexander’s face contorted with rage. He slapped me, hard. “Amelia! This is my house! How dare you lay a hand on her? Have I been too lenient with you?” “Apologize to her! Now!” The wound in my mouth split open again, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of my lips. My hands trembled as I gathered the broken pieces. “Why… why couldn’t you leave me with this one thing?” I whispered, my voice breaking. Alexander paused, mistaking my grief for heartbreak over his gift. His tone softened, but it was strained. “It’s just a necklace. I’ll buy you a hundred more, alright?” He swept Isabelle up into his arms. “This is the first and last time. I don’t want to see you act out against her ever again. You know what I’m capable of.” Watching them, so intimate and connected, I pushed down the acidic burn in my chest. Suddenly, a notification pinged in my headphones. An anonymous, untraceable message popped up on my screen. 【The wedding. Wait for me.】 The familiar tone made my dead heart leap. It was finally coming to an end.

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At my childhood friend’s engagement party, his phone suddenly lit up with 99 notifications for a series of blush-inducing, scandalous videos. He went pale as a ghost, scrambling to delete them, but his new fiancée snatched the phone from his hands. She had always seen me, his “best girl friend,” as a thorn in her side, convinced that something was going on between us. Now, at the pivotal moment of exchanging rings, she was trying to force me to connect the phone to the big screen. I broke out in a cold sweat, my hand clamped over the screen-mirroring button as I tried desperately to stop her. “Sophia, you really can’t play these videos…” “Can we please handle this privately? Let’s not make a scene in front of everyone.” But the bride’s face was twisted with venom. She shoved me hard in front of all the guests. “Oh, so now you care about shame? Where was this concern when you were seducing my fiancé!” “Hiding behind your ‘just friends’ bullshit while you’re screwing him behind my back! Women like you are utterly disgusting!” “Today, I’m going to let every single one of our friends and family see just what a slut you are in bed!” I froze. But the star of those videos… was clearly you and my friend. … At Aiden and Sophia’s engagement party, I was just about to hit ‘play’ on their “Love Story” slideshow. Suddenly, Sophia grabbed the mouse off the table, a cold sneer directed at the guests. “On this joyous occasion, on behalf of the Grant family, I’d like to invite you all to enjoy something a little more… special!” Before I could react, she had mirrored the phone’s screen and opened a deeply hidden folder on the desktop. I recognized it instantly. It was the “Private Collection” that Aiden had accidentally synced to my work computer three days ago due to a cloud error. The incident had scared the hell out of both of us, as I was working overtime in the office. Aiden had looked like death itself, practically begging me on his knees to delete the folder. I’d assumed it was just some porn he’d downloaded and hadn’t thought much of it. Now, seeing Sophia’s finger hovering over the files, I lunged forward to stop her. “Sophia! Don’t! I’m begging you! You can’t play those!” I tried to make my voice sound as sincere as possible, even though my heart was pounding against my ribs. “You really can’t watch what’s in that folder.” “There are so many elders here, let’s not make this ugly.” “Give me the phone. We can talk about this backstage, okay?” Sophia laughed. A harsh, ugly sound. “Ugly?” “Where was your shame when you were seducing my man?” “And now you’re using our elders to guilt-trip me?” She turned to face the crowd, her eyes glinting with a wild madness. “Ladies and gentlemen, since Amelia here is so desperate for you not to see this, I think it’s even more important that you do!” “Let’s all see what this woman, who pretends to be as pure as the driven snow, is really like behind closed doors!” Her bridesmaids started to cheer her on. “Yeah! If you did it, you should own it!” “Play it! Time to expose the bitch!” From the corner of my eye, I saw Aiden. The groom, who should have been stepping in, was cowering behind a champagne-colored pillar. He was pale and trembling like a leaf, his hand clamped over his mouth to stifle any sound. A cold dread washed over me. Sophia gave me no chance to explain. She slammed her finger down on the enter key. The massive screen lit up. The first video began to play. The lighting was dim, the camera shaking violently. The sound of heart-pounding moans and heavy breathing filled the ballroom. The image was just a blurry, indistinct shot of two entangled figures from behind. The entire hall erupted in gasps. Sophia pointed a triumphant finger at the screen. “Everyone, take a good look!” “That build, that cheap, pathetic aura… who else could it be but Amelia?” “Aiden told me a long time ago that some women are just trash. They’ll spread their legs for free!” I stared at the blurry figure on the screen. Was that supposed to be me? If I denied it now, she would just play more. I could only bite my lip and endure the daggers of contempt being thrown at me from every direction. “That’s not me,” I said, my voice a weak protest. Sophia wasn’t listening. “Not you? Then who is it, a ghost?” “Amelia, the evidence is right there. Are you still going to deny it?” “It seems one video isn’t enough to break you.” Her finger moved over the mouse again. “Then let’s kick it up a notch!” “You think you’re tough, Amelia?” “Let’s see you try to explain this next one!” Sophia clicked on the second video file. This time, the lighting was much brighter. The scene was no longer a hazy hotel room. In the background stood two enormous, European-style Roman columns and a wall covered in roses. The crowd exploded. Someone shouted, “Hey! Isn’t that Aiden and Sophia’s new house?” “Yes, it is! I was there! Sophia had those columns custom-made!” “And they just put up that flower wall for the wedding!” The murmurs grew into a roar. Sophia froze. She obviously recognized her own master bedroom. For a split second, her expression was rigid. She whipped her head around to face me, her eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as she glared. “Amelia! You are shameless!” “You snuck into our marital home while I was away to seduce Aiden?” “That’s my bed! The bed I was supposed to use on my wedding night!” Sophia’s voice cracked with rage, becoming a shrill, piercing shriek. “How could you be so vile?” “Did you have a key made? Have you been planning this all along?” “Screwing him in my wedding bed! Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?” In her victim narrative, this was all a premeditated plot I had orchestrated. The guests were swept up in her story. “My God, how could she be so shameless?” “You don’t foul your own nest. This is just cruel.” “This is why they say to guard against your best friend more than anyone.” Suddenly, a figure shot up from the main table. It was Aiden’s mother, the woman I considered my godmother. She marched up to me and, without a word, slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side, my ear ringing, my cheek burning with a fiery pain. “I treated you like my own daughter! How could you do something so sneaky and disgusting!” She pointed a trembling finger at my nose. “That’s your brother’s home! Are you that desperate for a man?” “You have disappointed me beyond words! Get out! I’ll pretend I never knew a backstabbing snake like you!” I clutched my stinging cheek, looking into her eyes, which were filled with a crushing disappointment. My own heart felt like it was being squeezed. When I was a little girl and bullies picked on me, she was the one who held my hand and stood up for me. I had always thought of her as my real mother. But now, even she didn’t believe me. I opened my mouth to explain, but then I saw Sophia’s furious face, my godmother’s heartbroken gaze, and Aiden, still hiding like a coward in the corner. And I suddenly realized, an explanation was pointless. This family was a lost cause. Seeing me get slapped, the look of triumph in Sophia’s eyes intensified. She started frantically scrubbing through the video’s timeline. “Yes, Mom! That’s right!” “A tramp like her deserves to be beaten!” “Don’t worry, everyone, I’m going to find a shot of her face!” “I want everyone to see just how depraved she looks on my bed!” The mouse clicked furiously. The images on the screen flickered past—a blur of flesh and tangled limbs. But because of the camera angles, all you could ever see was the woman’s back or a profile obscured by hair. No clear face shot. Sophia grew more and more agitated, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She rummaged wildly through the folder’s contents. “Why is it all from behind!” “That useless Aiden! Can’t he even film a video properly?” Cursing under her breath, she clicked on the third video. The scene changed. This time, it was inside a car. A cramped space, a shaky camera. Through the window, you could clearly see streetlights flashing by. It was the backseat of Aiden’s signature black SUV. Everyone recognized it. Sophia’s eyes turned an even deeper shade of red. “Car sex? Wow, Amelia, you really get around!” “You act so prim and proper, but you’re into this kind of stuff?” I ignored her insults. While everyone’s attention was glued to the screen, I discreetly pulled out my own phone. This was my last chance. And my final ultimatum for Aiden. I dialed his number. Aiden, still hiding behind the pillar, clearly didn’t expect a call from me at this moment. He answered on the first ring. But before I could speak, a hand shot out and ripped the phone away from me. It was Sophia. “Trying to call for help?” she sneered, looking at Aiden’s name on the screen. “Perfect. The man of the hour.” “Let’s just hear what secrets these two lovebirds have to whisper to each other now!” She didn’t hang up. Instead, she hit the speakerphone button. “Aiden!” Sophia screamed into the phone. “Your precious little ‘sister’ is calling for a rescue! You gonna answer?” From the speakers, Aiden’s terrified, muffled voice cried out. “Honey! Stop playing them!” “Please! Turn it off! You really can’t play them!” “If you keep going, you’re going to ruin everything!” The crowd gasped again. It was a confession! If the videos weren’t of him and Amelia, why would he be begging like that? “You’re protecting her?” “Even now, with the evidence right in front of us, you’re still protecting this slut?!” Sophia shrieked into the phone, tears of rage streaming down her face. “Aiden! I’ve been so good to you, and you’re begging me for her sake?” “You’re afraid she’ll be humiliated? You’re afraid of her social suicide?” “Did you ever once stop to think about how I feel?” Aiden was still babbling on the other end, “No! It’s not about protecting her! It’s for us—” “Shut up!” Sophia didn’t want to hear any explanations. She raised the phone high and smashed it onto the red carpet at her feet. The screen shattered.

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The day I found out Nathan Wilde had cheated on me again, our world exploded. I screamed at him, called him a self-degrading, shameless pig. A man his age, still messing around with young girls. He laughed and called me a washed-up hag, said I was mentally unstable. “You talk about shame? You defied your own father to run away with me when you were eighteen!” “You think you’re so noble? You had two abortions in three years.” “Amy, you’re the most pathetic person on this entire planet!” Our fight raged from our home all the way to the psychiatric hospital he was trying to commit me to. Right at the hospital entrance, a speeding car slammed into us. As my consciousness faded, I heard Nathan’s vicious curse. He said that in his next life, and the life after that, he never wanted to see my detestable old face again. But when I opened my eyes, I saw an eighteen-year-old Nathan Wilde, holding a bouquet of flowers, smiling at me. “Amy,” he said, “I’m in love with you.” 1. I wasn’t dead, and I wasn’t insane. Nathan had amnesia from the crash. His memory had reset to ten years ago. To the year he loved me most. He’d forgotten everything that had happened between us, all the betrayals and the bitter arguments. And now he was standing by my bedside, holding a bouquet of flowers, grinning from ear to ear. “Honey, you’re awake,” he said, his voice bright. “I don’t know what happened. I woke up and suddenly it’s ten years in the future. They all say I have amnesia, but who cares? As long as you’re my wife, I’m not afraid of anything.” He looked around the private room, his eyes wide with wonder. “Wow, the older me is pretty amazing. A nice car, a big house, and I even married the girl of my dreams. Heh, Amy, I must be the happiest man in the world.” The white roses were still beaded with morning dew. They were obviously expensive. Only the eighteen-year-old Nathan would move heaven and earth to give me the very best. But as I looked at the roses, my mind was flooded with images of him tangled in bed with Jessica. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I flinched away from his touch, disgusted, and swatted the bouquet to the floor. “Cut the crap, Nathan,” I said, my voice flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” The joy in the young man’s eyes vanished, replaced by sheer panic. He grabbed my hand, his face a mask of desperation. “Amy, what are you talking about? Why a divorce? Isn’t this what we always dreamed of?” “I know it’s my fault. I didn’t take good care of you, and you got hurt. I promise, I’ll never be so careless again, I’ll—” Before he could finish, the door swung open. Jessica teetered in on her high heels, a look of frantic concern on her face. Ignoring me completely, she threw herself into Nathan’s arms. “Nathan, oh, thank God you’re okay. When I heard about the accident, I nearly died. It’s all that bitch Amy’s fault. A washed-up old hag, clinging to her title as Mrs. Wilde. If she knew you didn’t love her anymore, she should have just stepped aside gracefully! If she wanted to die, fine, but how could she drag you down with her? Look at your hands, all those stitches… it must hurt so much…” Jessica stroked his hand, shooting me a hateful glare. My head was still spinning. I turned away, not wanting to deal with her. But Nathan shoved her away, his face a picture of confusion and disgust. “What the hell are you talking about? Washed-up hag? My wife is beautiful. She’ll always be the most beautiful woman in the world. And you… what are you? With that face that looks like you paid a plastic surgeon a fortune, you dare criticize my wife? Get away from me. I’m allergic to your perfume!” He pinched his nose and shuffled closer to me, like a puppy waiting for praise, hoping for a pat on the head. But all I felt was revulsion. The hickey on his neck hadn’t even faded. Jessica’s lipstick was still smeared on his collar. Every inch of him was stained with the scent of betrayal. The twenty-eight-year-old Nathan had been warped beyond recognition by years of indulgence. I said nothing more. By the time Nathan had gotten rid of Jessica, my lawyer had sent over the divorce papers. I forwarded the digital file to Nathan’s phone, my silence speaking volumes. He stood frozen, his eyes widening in shock before slowly turning red. He choked back a sob for a long moment, then finally looked up, his eyes swimming with tears. “Why?” “Amy, believe me, I’m not lying to you. I don’t know why I have amnesia. If you don’t like it, I’ll take my medicine, I’ll see the doctors. I know we must have fought so hard to be together. Please… don’t leave me over a little misunderstanding. Please?” I believed him. I believed he really had amnesia. Because it had been years since Nathan had looked at me with such tenderness. Ever since Jessica appeared, his eyes held nothing but contempt and cold indifference. But I was done. The eighteen-year-old Amy would have died for love. The twenty-eight-year-old Amy just wanted a bigger settlement in the divorce. Whether Nathan had amnesia or had simply lost his mind, for me, this was a golden opportunity. 2. While Nathan was gone, I discharged myself from the hospital. Our home was still a disaster zone. Shards of glass littered the floor, mixed with used condoms and torn lingerie. I had to marvel at his stamina. He’d had enough energy for a marathon session with Jessica and then a knock-down, drag-out fight with me. I kicked our shattered wedding photo out of the way and called the cleaning service to deal with the mess. I wasn’t about to let him have this multi-million dollar house for free. While I was taking pictures for evidence, Nathan burst in, holding a box with a chocolate cake, panting. “Amy, I just stepped out to buy a cake, why did you leave on your own? You didn’t even say anything, do you have any idea how worried I was?” He was grumbling, but he carefully presented the cake to me, trying to coax a smile. “I remember you always loved the cake from this place. I can’t believe it’s still open after ten years. Here, try some. See if it tastes the same.” I took a few steps back and shook my head. “I don’t eat that stuff anymore.” Not since the time he’d turned the car around to buy Jessica a cake, leaving me stranded on the side of the road. Not since the time he’d pushed me into a tiered cake display just to make her laugh. I had given up all sweets. Especially chocolate, Jessica’s favorite. The distance in my voice made him flinch, a wounded look crossing his face. But he quickly recovered, moving closer. He had no idea I was taking inventory of our assets for the divorce and cheerfully started “helping” me clean up. When he found a small box under the bed, his eyes lit up. “Amy, this is the wish box I gave you! You kept it all this time! I knew it. You were just saying all that angry stuff. We must have had a great marriage.” He pulled out a few slips of paper and started reading them aloud. “Buy Amy a big villa by the sea.” “Take Amy on a trip around the world.” “Have a cute baby with Amy.” “Make Amy the happiest woman in the world!” “Amy, we’re so rich now. We must have made all these wishes come true, right? Do you have any pictures? Show me! Maybe it’ll jog my memory.” He was getting more and more excited, completely oblivious to my clenched fists. I snatched the papers from his hand and tore them to shreds. Then, unable to hold back any longer, I shoved my phone in his face. “Oh yes,” I said with a cold smile. “Your wishes all came true.” “But they had nothing to do with me.” “The person you bought luxury cars for, lived in a villa with, and traveled the world with wasn’t me. It was your precious Jessica!” After he made his fortune, Nathan bought a seaside villa for our marital home. But when Jessica said she liked it, he signed it over to her that very night. We almost had a baby. But two consecutive miscarriages left me unable to conceive again. And while I was at home, recovering, at my lowest and most helpless point, Nathan took Jessica on a trip around the world. My voice was a low growl, my words clipped with rage. “You’re a very generous man, Nathan. Every new city, every new landmark, you made sure to send me a photo of you and Jessica. Sometimes you were kissing, sometimes hugging. Sometimes they were naked.” “The worst was when you sent me her ultrasound report.” “Nathan, back then, I refused to break up with you out of pride, out of a stubborn refusal to lose. But now… I’m just tired. I don’t have the energy to fight with you anymore.” “Sign the papers. And get out.” The explicit photos on my phone screen made his eyes widen in horror. He just kept shaking his head, muttering, “This is impossible. Impossible. I would never do that to you. Amy, what on earth happened these past ten years?” He grabbed my arm, desperate for an answer. But I didn’t know how to begin. I hate remembering. We were together for so long that the pain and the struggle were etched into my bones. Every time I looked back, it was like tearing open a barely healed wound, exposing the raw, bloody mess of our past. But I knew how stubborn Nathan could be. There were some things he needed to understand.

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My brother is known in our circle for having a terminal case of lovesickness. To chase after the high and mighty princess of the Blackwood family, he practically ripped his own face off and stomped on it. I’m his sister, but my brain has only one mission: to absolutely, under no circumstances, let my brother be a simp. To give him a taste of sweet revenge, I went undercover and got close to the Blackwood family’s eldest son, figuring I’d try a flanking maneuver—get to the source of the problem. It backfired. Spectacularly. In the end, that same princess tied us both up, trussed like holiday turkeys, and threw us in her living room. “I’ll marry your brother! You marry my brother! How about that? I’m begging you two, just stop tormenting me!” Me: ? 1 When my brother, Connor, first started college, he fell for a girl in his year at first sight and completely lost his mind. I later found out she was Julie Blackwood, the treasured jewel of the Blackwood family, famous for her beauty, talent, and proud demeanor. I tried to talk some sense into him. “She’s a goddess, and we’re just mortals. It’s not gonna happen.” My brother insisted I didn’t know a thing, that she was his soulmate. And so, the fool began a two-year-long, frantic pursuit. Daily pick-ups and drop-offs, flowers, and gifts were the bare minimum, and he never even managed to snag the title of “official boyfriend.” They went on dates and had meals together, but to any outsider, it was clear Julie had never said yes. My brother was just a veteran simp, at her beck and call. I called him pathetic, a terminal case of lovesickness. He’d yell back, his eyes red, that he was happy to do it, that you can’t put a price on true devotion. What could I do? Our parents passed away early, so my brother and I grew up relying on each other. Connor might not have a head for business, but he gave me all his kindness and protection. When our parents first died, our relatives circled like vultures, eyeing our family company, ready to tear us apart. It was my brother who shouldered all the pressure, fighting tooth and nail at countless dinners, drinking until he coughed up blood and ended up in the hospital, just to protect our business and protect me. In my heart, my brother is my only family. For him to fall for someone this hard, even if she was a block of ice that would never melt, I had to swallow my disgust and help him strategize for the sake of his happiness. Until Julie’s junior year, when she suddenly took off to study abroad without a word. By then, I had taken over the company. The universe, it seems, has a sense of balance; all the business acumen my brother lacked was given to me. I was tougher than him, sharper. After half a year of battling the old foxes on the board, I had finally secured my position. But my brother completely fell apart. When he heard Julie had left the country, he drank himself into a stupor and ended up in the emergency room. I rushed to the hospital, fuming. I pushed open the door to find him trying to rip the IV drip out of his arm. His face was ashen. “I don’t want to live anymore. Julie doesn’t want me. What’s the point…?” My head was buzzing, my temples throbbing. Without a second thought, I marched over and slapped him. Hard. “She went abroad, she didn’t die! Are you out of money or do you not have a passport? Why don’t you go after her?” The slap seemed to knock some sense into him. He stared at me, stunned, before it finally clicked. “Oh, right… Quick, give me my phone, I need to book a flight!” I tossed him the phone. He eagerly scrolled through his chat history, but after a few swipes, his face fell like a wilted flower. “A few days ago… I saw a guy confessing his feelings to her, and I got so angry I blocked her…” I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to strangle him. “So you don’t even know what country she’s in or what school she’s attending?” My brother shook his head miserably. I was beyond frustrated. “Alright, stop whining. I’ll have someone look into it. You just stay put. Don’t work yourself into an early grave before you even see your precious ‘sister-in-law’.” Hearing the word “sister-in-law,” the fool immediately stopped fussing and obediently lay down. Outside the hospital room, I read the message from the private investigator and fell into deep thought. “Ms. Reid, Ms. Blackwood’s whereabouts have been deliberately hidden. The person responsible is her brother.” Julie’s brother? Xavier Blackwood? The legendary business prodigy who hit the Forbes list by the age of thirty? The Reid and Blackwood families didn’t have any business dealings, and I had never met the man. If he was the one intentionally hiding her, this was going to be a problem. If I told my brother this, he’d just dissolve into another puddle of tears. I rubbed my temples and decided to meet this Xavier Blackwood myself. The next day, I sent my assistant to make contact. She came back pale as a ghost. “Ms. Reid, Mr. Blackwood said…” “Said what? Spit it out.” “He said… the Blackwood family has high standards, and they would never let their daughter marry a crybaby waste of space. He told us to give up now.” I saw red. I was furious. Who the hell was Xavier Blackwood to talk about my brother like that? So what if he cries a little? He’s kind and gentle, and aside from his lovesickness, he’s a great guy! Xavier Blackwood, you’ve made an enemy. Since playing nice didn’t work, it was time to play dirty. First, I sent a few handsome men and beautiful women to apply for jobs at the Blackwood Corporation, hoping a little seduction would loosen some lips. I figured every man has a weakness, right? Less than three days later, they all came back with their tails between their legs. “Ms. Reid, Xavier Blackwood isn’t human! He made us run fifty laps around the company building at the crack of dawn, to ‘build character’!” I gritted my teeth. Fine. If he wouldn’t fall for honey traps or threats, I’d handle it myself. I went home and told my brother, “You watch the company for a few days. I’m going to handle your future brother-in-law.” He looked skeptical. “Are you serious? Or are you just trying to skive off work and go on vacation?” I gave him a cold smile. “Say that again. Do you want me to post all your pathetic love letters online?” He immediately shut up. With the fool at home taken care of, I created a new identity, transforming myself into a recent graduate, and managed to get a job at the Blackwood Corporation. I thought I’d find a chance to get close to Xavier. Instead, I spent a week in the finance department and didn’t even figure out where his office was. My patience wore thin. That afternoon, armed with a stack of questionable financial reports, I barged into the executive elevator. When the doors opened, Xavier Blackwood’s icy face was right there. Our eyes met. We were both stunned. I recovered quickly, shoving the reports into his chest. “Mr. Blackwood, I have an urgent matter to report.” The pressure in the CEO’s office was suffocating. I slammed the evidence of embezzlement I’d spent all week uncovering onto his desk. Even though I was a spy, my professional ethics wouldn’t let me ignore such a massive discrepancy. Xavier flipped through the documents, his expression growing darker. Finally, he looked up at me, his gaze sharp and appraising. Soon after, the executive who had been embezzling funds was fired. And I, inexplicably, became Xavier’s new favorite, promoted directly to his executive assistant. While it wasn’t part of my original plan, it was a lucky break. I had gained his trust. He even specifically requested that I accompany him to a business gala that evening. Talk about a small world. I was on Xavier’s arm when we ran right into my brother at the event. Xavier clearly had a terrible impression of Connor. The moment he saw him, his brow furrowed, and a chill emanated from him. My brother, on the other hand, saw me, and his eyes went wide, his mouth opening, ready to start bawling. I shot him a death glare: Hold. It. In. He choked back his tears, looking utterly wronged. After a few drinks, everyone was a little tipsy. Xavier was slightly flushed, and my brother was swaying on his feet. The fool stumbled over, holding a glass, and yelled at Xavier, “Bro! A toast! To you! May your company prosper and make you a fortune!” Xavier gave him a cold glance and didn’t even touch his glass. My brother’s fragile heart shattered on the spot. His eyes welled up, the dam about to break. My own heart leaped into my throat. If he cried in public, the Reid family’s reputation would be ruined! I quickly grabbed a glass and, when no one was looking, dragged my brother by the wrist out onto the terrace. “Cry, cry, cry! Is that all you know how to do? Can’t you have a little dignity?” I hissed. He sniffled. “But… but I haven’t seen Julie in a month… I miss her so much…” I clamped my hand over his mouth, afraid someone inside would hear. Just then, a cold voice came from behind us. “What are you two doing?” The voice was like a clap of thunder, nearly scaring me to death. I stiffly turned around. Xavier was standing in the shadows, his gaze chillingly fixed on our intertwined hands. “What are you doing?” he repeated, his voice thick with suppressed anger. I let go of my brother’s hand as if I’d been electrocuted, my mind racing. “Um… Mr. Blackwood, I saw this gentleman was drunk and was worried he might cause a scene, so I brought him out for some fresh air. I was just… helping him sober up.” My brother was nodding frantically beside me. Xavier was silent, his eyes darting between my face and my brother’s. Suddenly, understanding seemed to dawn on him, and his expression turned darker than a stormy sea. “Tessa, come here.” In that moment, I was eternally grateful that I’d used my mother’s maiden name for my undercover identity. I sheepishly walked over to him. My brother was still looking at me with the mournful eyes of an abandoned puppy. Xavier grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong, and pulled me away. I kept looking back, desperately trying to signal to my brother: Don’t worry, I’m fine! Get out of here! Xavier dragged me to a deserted corner, trapping me between the wall and his body. He smelled faintly of wine, and his presence was overwhelmingly intense. His eyes were tinged with red as he stared down at me, a look that made my stomach flutter with nerves. Crap, did he figure out I’m a spy? “Tessa, you like him?” I froze, a million questions marks popping up in my head. What? Seeing my silence, Xavier seemed to get even angrier, his tone laced with scorn. “Don’t. A man who does nothing but cry isn’t worth it. Besides, he only has eyes for my sister. You don’t stand a chance.” I almost coughed up blood. Me? Like my own brother? Am I sick in the head? I shook my head frantically. “No! I swear I don’t like him!” Xavier’s expression softened slightly. “Really?” “Absolutely!” “Good.” He seemed relieved, his voice softening too. “I was going to give you my sister’s address, but if you don’t like him, then I guess there’s no point…” “Wait!” Alarm bells went off in my head. For the sake of my brother’s happiness, I had to go all in. I grabbed his tie, my expression instantly shifting to one of profound sorrow. “Actually… Mr. Blackwood, I was lying. I do like him. I’ve liked him for a long time.” Xavier’s face instantly turned to stone. “Tessa, are you playing games with me?” I went for a full-blown Oscar performance, tears streaming down my face. “I really do like him! But I know he only loves your sister, so I tried to get into the Blackwood Corporation just to see… to see what kind of girl could captivate him so completely…” Xavier stared at me, his eyes a mixture of complex emotions. I cried even harder. “Mr. Blackwood, please just tell me. Let me see her one time, just once, and I’ll give up! I promise, after I see her, I’ll come back and work hard and never think about him again!” In the end, he couldn’t withstand my performance. He let out a long sigh. “Alright, stop crying. I’ll give you the address. But after you see her, you have to give up. A man like that isn’t worth your time.” I nodded furiously. “Don’t worry, Mr. Blackwood! I’ll give up completely! I’ll be totally over him!” Inside, I was cackling with glee. Mission accomplished! After getting the address, I promptly quit my job and flew with my brother to a romantic little town abroad. Connor finally saw the goddess of his dreams. Unfortunately, reality was harsh. At an outdoor café, Julie was laughing and talking with a handsome, scholarly-looking young man, their hands resting on top of each other’s. And that man just happened to be my brother’s sworn enemy, Landon. My brother exploded on the spot, charging over and screaming, “Julie! How could you do this to me? You know I hate him!” Julie was startled, her face clouding over. “Connor, are you ever going to stop? I don’t like you. Why did you follow me here? Can’t you just leave me alone?” My temper flared. My brother might be a fool, but his feelings for you are real. You can reject him, but you don’t get to humiliate him! And Landon was notoriously deceitful. I wasn’t about to let my brother get hurt. I stormed over and, without a word, slapped Landon across the face. Twice. I don’t hit women, but this guy, I couldn’t stand. Smack! Smack! The sound was crisp and satisfying. Landon was stunned. “Who the hell are you? Are you crazy?” Julie was furious, her eyes red. “Why did you hit him? Landon is just a classmate, he doesn’t even like me! What right do you have?” My brother was still stuck on his own point. “I don’t like you? Julie, where did you get that idea? I’m crazy about you!” “I got it from both my eyes! What you do is called harassment, not love!” The scene devolved into chaos. In the end, Julie ran off, and my brother stood there like a wooden statue. “How could she say that to me…” Seeing him so dejected, I felt a pang of sympathy. I had pissed off Xavier, lost my job, and all for this. Just then, my phone rang. It was Xavier. Over and over again, the vibration making my hand numb. Feeling incredibly guilty, I turned it off. “Come on, bro! We’re going for a drink tonight! There are plenty of fish in the sea. We don’t need this one!” I dragged my brother to a local bar. That night, we both drank ourselves into oblivion. When I opened my eyes, my head felt like it was splitting open. I tried to move but found my hands and feet were tied. I looked down to see myself trussed up like a sausage, lying on the floor. Next to me, also tied up and snoring loudly, was my brother. My heart dropped. Crap. Were we kidnapped? Did Xavier find us?

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Alex cheated. With a subordinate twelve years his junior. When I found out, he chose to come back to his family. Everything was quiet until tonight, when I happened to see an unsigned text on his phone. [I’m getting married tomorrow. Can you come to Port Crest to see me one last time?] It’s a three-hour drive from our city to Port Crest. If he left now, he’d get there around one in the morning. I watched him pack a suitcase, my voice deceptively light. “Taking that many clothes? Are you planning to sleep with her one more time?” I added, a saccharine smile on my face, “Oh, should I pack a box of condoms for you two?” Alex looked up, his face a mask of exhaustion I’d never seen before. “Stella, I already chose you. What more do you want?” His voice was raw. “Do you really have to push me to the edge before you’re satisfied?” 1 I remember the day I caught him with Lily in that hotel room. The sheer panic on his face was almost comical. And I had become a cliché, the scorned wife from a TV drama. Fueled by a blinding rage and a shattered heart, I had screamed, clawed, and hit them. I took humiliating photos and blasted them everywhere. Lily’s reputation was ruined. She was fired from her job and fled back to her hometown not long after. Alex lost a six-figure deal because of the scandal and was forced to resign from his director position. Crushed under the weight of moral “condemnation,” he got on his knees, begged for my forgiveness, and came home. After his return, he became the picture of obedience. If I said east, he wouldn’t dare look west. Even as he struggled to launch his own startup, facing unprecedented pressure, he took over all the night feedings for our newborn daughter, Penny, just so I could get some sleep. In the span of a single year, despite the exhaustion, his new company was on its feet and starting to thrive. As his status rose, he regained his swagger, a success story in the eyes of the world. It seemed like he’d faced no real consequences at all. Oh, except for a few bad colds from being overworked in the beginning. And that’s what he calls me pushing him to the edge? The irony was suffocating. A bitter smile touched my lips. “Alex, how dare you say that to me.” “Have you forgotten the oath you swore? That you would never see her again?” He slowly unpacked the suitcase, folding each item and placing it back in the closet before shutting the empty luggage. “Stella, it’s been a while since we visited Director Thompson and the kids at the orphanage. Let’s go together tomorrow.” “We should get some rest before Penny wakes up. You know how much of a handful she is when she’s fully charged.” His casual tone was laced with a deliberate, gentle warmth that made my skin crawl. I dug my nails into my palms, the sting of it grounding me. I hated this placid mask he wore, this way he sidestepped everything important. He was the one who had shattered our lives, yet he stood there, the picture of calm rationality. My voice dripped with scorn. “What about Lily? You love her so much. Won’t she be heartbroken if you don’t go to Port Crest? Or are you just afraid of being struck by lightning for breaking your sacred vow?” His expression remained infuriatingly placid. “Stella, the kids love the pork buns from that Southside bakery. Remember to pick some up tomorrow.” This was classic Alex. The colder his exterior, the more organized his thoughts, the deeper the emotion he was burying. It used to be for me. Now, it was for her. I felt a desperate urge to rip that fraudulent mask from his face. I yanked open a drawer and pulled out a stack of letters, my stomach churning. In a voice thick with mock sweetness, I began to read his words aloud, one by one. “Lily, you are like a cloud in the sky, untouched by the dirt of the world. Seeing you, I finally understood that something so pure and clear could exist.” “They say clouds are fleeting, but I will hide you, my cloud, in my heart. Year after year, I will protect your pristine beauty.” “All I desire in this life is to drift with you, my cloud, from dawn till dusk, never apart.” “Lily, the person in my bed is not the one in my heart. Only in the depths of night, in my dreams, can I see your face, so pure it makes my soul tremble.” A crack finally appeared in his composure. His voice erupted in a desperate roar. “Shut up! Stella, I made a mistake, okay? Just one mistake! Haven’t I atoned enough this past year?” “It’s over! Why can’t you just let it go?” I smirked, snatching a pair of women’s silk panties from the drawer—embroidered with twin lotus blossoms—and threw them in his face. “Let it go? Oh, but these love letters you wrote her are just too moving. I have to keep them, to constantly remind you of the pure, beautiful Lily hidden in your heart!” 2 “And besides, do you call that atonement? Penny is my daughter, but she’s yours too. Taking care of her isn’t penance, it’s called being a father!” Alex had always been a romantic, prone to grand, cheesy gestures when he was in love. I used to pretend to cringe at them, but secretly, my heart would soar. I thought I was the only one he would ever love. Until one day, bored and cleaning, I found a box tucked away at the bottom of his bookshelf. Inside was this stack of paper. Over two years, he had written her five hundred and twenty-one love letters. The embroidered panties were her response, a token of their shared “love.” It was like opening Pandora’s Box. The demons inside swarmed out and devoured my soul. The emotional shock sent me into premature labor that very day. Alex, still clueless that I knew about their filthy secret, continued to play the part of the tragic lover in a forbidden romance with Lily, right up until I exposed them. The day I was cleared to leave the house after giving birth, I packed the thick stack of letters into a bag and stormed to his office, ready to tear them down in front of everyone. But the receptionist told me Alex had taken Lily out for a “procurement trip.” A female colleague saw my pale, exhausted face and, assuming I was just a dutiful wife delivering documents, took pity on me. “This morning,” she whispered, “I heard Mr. Morgan tell Lily he was taking her to The Monarch Hotel.” The last sliver of hope in my heart died. Nothing else mattered anymore. When I got to the hotel, the staff tried to stop me, thinking I was just some troublemaker. I had no choice but to call the police. With their help, I finally got into the suite. And there was my husband, his face a mess of panic as he shielded his mistress with a look of pained tenderness. I lost my mind. I screamed, I clawed, I hurled the most vicious curses I could conjure. I took photos and sent them everywhere. The whole process was surprisingly straightforward, easy even. But it drained every last ounce of strength from my body. Now, Alex rubbed his temples, his voice laced with impatience. “Was all that really necessary? The hotel, that was a moment of weakness, I admit. But it was just that one time. And because of the scene you made, nothing even happened in the end, did it?” “Don’t you dare try to justify your cheating!” I shot back. “Alex, you’re despicable!” He smirked, his tone calm and cruel. “You know, Stella, the more you spiral like this, the more perfect Lily seems in my memory.” “You can never compare to her. Let’s see how long you can keep this up.” My breath hitched. I stared at him, my vision blurring. He was finally showing emotion, but it felt like a boulder had lodged itself in my chest, suffocating me. The man who once looked at me with nothing but love in his eyes was now a monster. I had tried. I had told myself to let it go. He had repented, he had come home, we had a daughter who needed us. But over the past year, whenever he tried to share our bed, whenever he tried to touch me as a husband, all I could see were his and Lily’s bodies tangled together. The nausea was overwhelming. I couldn’t pretend it never happened. All the grief and rage I had bottled up inside finally exploded. “Then divorce me and go marry her!” I shrieked. “Alex, stop acting like you’re the victim here! It makes me want to puke!” I snatched the silk panties off the floor and ripped them to shreds. “Whore! You’re both whores!” A flicker of satisfaction crossed Alex’s face as he watched me unravel. He reached out to wipe a tear from my eye. “See? You make yourself this ugly just to get a reaction out of me. Was it worth it?” His voice softened again. “Stella, it’s in the past. Why can’t you just let us live in peace?” 3 “We have a daughter now. Don’t ever talk about divorce again.” I slapped his hand away and said nothing. Our commotion woke Penny. Her cries filled the room. I went to the crib and lifted her into my arms, rocking her gently. Alex watched for a moment, then turned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Later, after I’d settled Penny back to sleep, I went to the kitchen to make her a bottle and was hit by the overpowering stench of alcohol. I found Alex slumped on the living room floor, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Empty liquor bottles lay scattered around him. A living tragedy. Was he mourning the impending marriage of his precious Lily? His phone buzzed on the floor beside him. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted. With a trembling hand, he answered. “Lily, I’m here.” Her voice floated through the speaker, soft and fragile. “Alex… she won’t let you come see me, will she?” A shadow passed over his face. “Lily, she’s my wife. We have a daughter. I have to be responsible.” “I know, Alex. You’re a good man. So responsible, so dependable. I always knew I had good taste.” Her voice sounded like it might break. Alex gripped the phone tighter. “Yes,” he said, his own voice gentle. “We shouldn’t see each other anymore. Lily, I wish you and him a happy marriage. All the best.” Just as he was about to hang up, she pleaded, “Alex, can I just… say a few words to her?” He hesitated for a long moment before holding the phone out to me. “Lily wants to talk to you. Try to control your temper. Don’t scare her.” I refused to take it, but it didn’t matter. It was as if Lily knew I was standing right there. “Stella,” she began, her voice dripping with faux concern, “since he’s come back to you, I’m begging you, please be good to him. The stress he’s under, working to provide for you all… it’s just as hard as what you go through.” “He doesn’t like spicy food, but he has a real sweet tooth, especially for mango pudding. And don’t give him too many cold things in the summer; he has a sensitive stomach.” “Oh, and I bought him a shoulder massager before. His neck and shoulders get really tight, so you should use it on him when you have time. Also… he’s in a crucial phase with his career right now. You just had the baby, so you should be careful when you’re intimate. Don’t let another pregnancy distract him. Remember to use a condom…” I let out a cold laugh. “Are you done?” “You shameless bitch. You’ve got some nerve, trying to manage my husband from another city! Since you can’t seem to let him go, how about I pack him up and ship him to your wedding tomorrow? You can have a new groom!” “After all, a homewrecker like you has no shame, right? We can let everyone see what a pathetic—” Alex snatched the phone away. “Enough!” he roared at me. “Are you insane?” My eyes burned with hatred. “She had the audacity to do it, so I have the audacity to say it. Alex, you two are a disgusting pair of hypocrites! How dare you flaunt your affair in my face!” From the phone, we could hear Lily’s soft, whimpering sobs. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to make your wife angry.” Alex’s face darkened. “Stella, apologize.” That was it. The last thread of my sanity snapped, consumed by flames. I was back in that hotel room, my fists flying, my nails digging into his skin. “Apologize to your mother! Alex, are you even human? You and that bitch can both go to hell! Go to hell!” He shielded his face and pushed me away, his own anger boiling over. “Stella, are you deaf? Didn’t you just hear me say goodbye to her? If you don’t stop this madness, I swear I’ll drive to Port Crest right now to see her!” As he spat out the last sentence, a flicker of anticipation flashed in his eyes. A longing to go see Lily. But he had to maintain his facade of the responsible, long-suffering husband, a martyr to his family. It painted me as the villain, as if his “unfortunate situation” was all my fault. I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. I ran back into the bedroom, grabbed the clothes he had just put away, and stuffed them back into the suitcase. I threw it at his feet. “Get out!” “Alex, the very sight of you makes me sick.” 4 “You asked for this, Stella. Let’s see how you manage with the baby all by yourself.” A cruel smile twisted his lips as he picked up the suitcase and walked out the door. Silence descended on the apartment. I collapsed to the floor as if all the strength had been siphoned out of me, hugging my knees and crying without a sound. It wasn’t until Penny started crying again that I forced myself up, finished making her bottle, and carried it back to the room. I held her tiny body close, my eyes wide open all night. I was the one being pushed to the edge. By him and Lily. On the surface, our life over the past year had been… tolerable. But inside, I was breaking. I became someone I didn’t recognize. I started having nightmares of two pale bodies writhing on a hotel bed. I’d wake up crying for no reason, my body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. I screamed. I threw things. I started cutting my own arm with a kitchen knife. If Alex came home even a little late, I would pick a fight, my words laced with suspicion and acid. I was constantly convinced he was with another woman. At first, he would patiently explain himself. Eventually, he just started sleeping in the guest room. The warmth between us slowly froze over. The day I found myself on the balcony, holding Penny and thinking about jumping from the eighteenth floor, was my wake-up call. I almost died. I had become one of those “oversensitive,” “hysterical” new mothers he read about. I had postpartum depression. Standing on that balcony, the cold wind shocked me back to my senses. I started trying to save myself. I saw doctors. I took medication. But tonight, Alex, the very source of my sickness, had shoved me right back towards the abyss. This disgusting, shattered marriage had to end. Now. I stayed up all night. Alex didn’t come back. Instead, his parents showed up first thing in the morning. Alex’s father looked me up and down with disdain. “Fighting with Alex again? Stella, if Alex really loved that… Lily-whatever-her-name-is, you would have never been our daughter-in-law in the first place.” “And don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve always been petty and shortsighted. If you had just looked the other way back then, Alex wouldn’t have been fired, and he’d be collecting easy dividends every month. He wouldn’t have to work so hard now.” His mother took out her phone, feigning a sigh. “Stella, our Alex is such an exceptional man. It’s normal for him to have admirers. You need to hurry up and have a son to secure his heart, or you’ll be crying a lot more in the future!” She then thrust the phone in my face. It was a social media post Alex had made after he left last night. In the photo, he was holding Lily tightly, gently wiping away her tears, his face filled with affection. The caption read: [Drove for miles, just to see you one last time.] I opened my phone, but the post wasn’t on my feed. I realized he had blocked me. I tried calling him several times, but each call was rejected. After the last one, I asked quietly, “Are you sure he went to see Lily?” His mother’s face was smug. She dialed Alex’s number right in front of me. He picked up instantly. “Mom? What’s up?” “Honey, where are you?” she cooed. “Did you and Stella have another fight?” Through the phone, Alex’s voice was flat, tinged with contempt. “Not really a fight. She just had one of her episodes. Probably bored from being stuck at home all day.” “I’m in Port Crest right now. Mom, don’t tell Stella. I’ll be back soon, just after I see Lily one last time.” The call lasted less than a minute. So he really had driven through the night to be with her. My chest felt hollowed out, yet strangely, a sense of relief washed over me. Seeing my lack of reaction, his mother clucked her tongue. “Did you hear that? Alex is always complaining to me about how dull and stupid you are, how you do nothing but fight with him. If it weren’t for the baby, he would have left you long ago!” “You know, this Lily girl doesn’t seem so bad. I hear her parents are teachers. She’s more than good enough for our Alex. Not like some people, with no parents to speak of. Probably a jinx!” “Like father, like son. Since some people have a taste for spoiled goods, I’m happy to let them have her.” I delivered the line calmly, then picked up my daughter and walked out, leaving the two of them sputtering curses behind me. I knew they never liked me. After marrying Alex, I had tolerated them time and time again. Not anymore. Since Alex wasn’t in town, I would go find him myself. I stopped by a lawyer’s office to pick up divorce papers, then hailed a cab to Port Crest. Using the photo from his mother’s phone as a guide, I went straight to the hotel where they were meeting.

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1 The day I found out I was the illegitimate daughter of the country’s richest billionaire, I rushed over to his mansion to meet my dad. When I got there, I found ninety-eight other girls lined up, all waiting to do the same thing. It turned out the billionaire’s only son and heir had recently passed away. To find a successor for his hundred-billion-dollar empire, he had tracked down all his secret daughters. Now, he was holding a competition to find the best of us. Feeling completely out of my league, I was about to turn around and leave with my head hung low. Suddenly, a glowing banner unfurled in my vision: [Don’t you dare leave, sweetie! Your mother is basically the Underworld’s new queen now, and I can help you win this whole thing.] [Remember your old rival from the orphanage? She’s one of them. If you walk away now, that hundred-billion-dollar fortune will fall right into her lap.] My head snapped around, and sure enough, I saw her face. Veronica. A decade ago, she locked me in a pigsty and stole my chance at being adopted, condemning me to ten more years of misery. Hatred flooded my heart. Fine. I’ll listen to my mom. I’m not leaving. That hundred-billion-dollar fortune is going to be mine. … Veronica recognized me at the same instant. “Zoe? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in the pigsty where you belong?” She looked me up and down, a sneer twisting her perfectly made-up face. “Don’t tell me you’re here to steal something. A beggar like you doesn’t even deserve to breathe this air.” Her designer clothes were so bright they hurt my eyes. I clenched my fists, ready to fire back a response. Just then, my billionaire father, Alistair Finch, walked slowly to the top of the grand staircase and looked down at us all. “All these years, I have failed in my duty as a father. For that, I am truly sorry.” “As a small compensation, I’ve prepared one hundred thousand dollars for each of you. Anyone who wants it can register with my butler and collect the money.” The villa erupted. “Thank you, Dad!” “This is perfect! I desperately need the money! You’re the best, Dad!” As a swarm of women rushed toward the butler, Veronica scoffed beside me. “A bunch of greedy fools. And they think they have what it takes to compete with me for the inheritance?” After stealing my adoption, Veronica had been raised in wealth, living a life of luxury. A hundred grand was nothing to her. But to me, a girl who survived on stale bread, that money was a lifeline. Seeing my own feet start to move toward the queue, my mother’s message flashed urgently before my eyes: [Honey, this is the first elimination round.] [Anyone who takes the money is considered shortsighted. They’ll be disqualified immediately.] [Those who refuse the money prove they have the ambition and vision to enter the real competition.] I froze. I snuck a glance up at Alistair. Just as my mom said, he was watching the line of girls with a disappointed frown, shaking his head slightly. The butler’s voice then cut through the noise. “To be clear, anyone who accepts the hundred thousand dollars must also sign this document, formally waiving all rights to the inheritance.” Without a second of hesitation, I backed away from the line. The agreement, however, didn’t deter most of them. Seeing the majority of the girls eagerly sign away their future for a quick payout, Alistair let out a frustrated sigh. His gaze then shifted to those of us who remained. As my eyes met his for a brief moment, another banner appeared: [See? Mom wouldn’t lie to you.] [Just trust me and do as I say. I never got a single penny from that deadbeat while I was alive. You have to make him pay for both of us.] A moment later, Alistair’s deep voice announced, “Twenty of you have chosen to forego the money. Please follow the guards upstairs.” As I fell in line behind the others, Veronica gave me a stunned look. “Zoe, you’re an illegitimate daughter too? So that makes us… half-sisters?” I ignored her. Because Alistair was announcing the rules for the first official round of the competition. “To be my heir, you must possess exceptional financial and business acumen.” “I will provide each of you with ten thousand dollars in seed money. In one hour, the ten people with the most capital remaining will advance to the next stage. You will be my potential successors.” 2 The moment Alistair finished speaking, the other nineteen girls whipped out their phones and sprang into action. “My mother is a CEO. I’ve been learning about business since I was a child. This is in the bag!” “I have a Ph.D. in finance. I know exactly how to make money from money.” They were all in their element. Some immediately started trading stocks. Others dove into investment fund websites. One even began drafting a startup proposal on the spot, using the ten thousand as her initial investment. Another girl cleverly jumped on the social media trend and started a live stream. “Broadcasting live from the billionaire’s heir selection! Follow me for a real inside look at a high-stakes family drama!” I just stared at the debit card a guard had pressed into my hand, feeling a wave of helplessness wash over me. I never even finished high school. The orphanage forced me out to sell trinkets on the street just to survive. How could I possibly compete with these educated, cultured, brilliant women? Veronica saw the panic on my face and laughed, her voice dripping with scorn. “Everyone else is busy making moves, and you don’t even have a phone. You really think you have a chance against me?” She wasn’t just looking down on me. She looked down on everyone. “I graduated from a top business school. When it comes to making money, no one here can touch me.” She immediately launched a two-pronged attack, buying stocks with one hand while writing a detailed investment plan with the other, ready to present it to Alistair at the end of the hour. Meanwhile, my only source of encouragement was my mother’s spectral pop-ups: [Honey, have you ever heard the saying? There’s nothing more dangerous than a rich kid with a business plan.] [Let them run wild. In this round, you can win by doing absolutely nothing.] [Even if you have to fake it, you need to project an aura of absolute confidence!] She added another boost: [You’ve been out in the real world since you were a kid. You’ve seen the best and worst of people. When it comes to reading a room, none of them can compare to you.] [Use this time to observe your billionaire father. It might come in handy later.] The thought of my mom, even in the Underworld, working so hard to help me, filled me with a new sense of purpose. I retreated to a quiet corner and began to study Alistair, trying to decipher his personality and temperament. While the other girls scrambled with their various schemes, my focus remained entirely on him. My unusual calm and stillness eventually caught his attention. He sent the butler over to me. “Why aren’t you doing anything?” the butler asked. Following my mom’s guidance, I started spinning a tale. “Protecting a fortune is far more difficult than building one,” I said, my voice steady. “In today’s volatile market, I believe a conservative strategy is the wisest. My goal is to protect the wealth my father worked so hard to create.” Just as the words left my mouth, a scream pierced the air. “My stocks just crashed! How is this possible?” Someone else kicked over a chair in fury. “Scammers! This whole investment platform is a scam! They converted my money into some worthless crypto and ran!” “Who shut down my live stream? I just paid for a traffic boost!” Amid the chaos, my eyes met Alistair’s, and I offered him a small, knowing smile. A barely perceptible gleam of approval lit up his eyes, though he said nothing. The hour passed quickly. My strategy of doing nothing had actually worked. I placed fifth and advanced to the next round. Mom! Thank you! I’m one step closer to that hundred-billion-dollar fortune! As for Veronica, she had managed to turn her ten thousand into fifteen. Her business proposal also received high praise from Alistair. She advanced in first place, earning the venomous glares of the other girls. As we followed the butler upstairs again, Veronica deliberately shoved me. “You just got lucky, Zoe. It’s not too late to give up and walk away now.” “Because once I become the official heir, I will make it my mission to destroy you.” I shot her a cold look, making a silent vow. When I inherit that fortune, I will make her pay for everything she did to me. We were led into a lavish dining room. To my surprise, the butler pulled out the chair at the head of the table and gestured for me to sit. “Miss Zoe, this seat is for you.” I didn’t think much of it at first. But just as I started to move, I noticed Veronica staring at me with a smirk, as if she was waiting for me to make a fool of myself. I immediately froze, a sense of caution washing over me. 3 At the same time, my mother’s banner flashed into existence: [Honey, that’s the host’s seat! Your father’s seat! You absolutely cannot sit there!] [This isn’t about eating. It’s a test of etiquette. He’s seeing if you have the grace to belong in his world.] [Pay attention from now on. Do exactly as I say!] A shiver went down my spine. I quickly waved my hands at the butler. “Sir, that seat is for my father. When will he be joining us?” The butler’s smile was full of approval. In my peripheral vision, I saw Veronica grind her teeth in disappointment. I didn’t dare get cocky. My full attention was on my mother’s instructions. The butler assigned everyone a seat. I remained standing until Alistair entered and sat down. Only then did I take my seat, the last one to do so. My mom’s tips kept coming: [The spout of the teapot should never point at the host. When you get the chance, you have to fix it.] [When pouring wine, fill the glass. When pouring tea, only fill it partway.] [When the fish is served, the head must be pointed toward Alistair.] [Do not, under any circumstances, pick up your silverware before the host does. And never leave your spoon sticking upright in your soup. Got it?] With my mom’s help, I dominated the dinner. One of the girls rushed to pour tea for Alistair. I said nothing, but the moment she set the teapot down, I quickly and discreetly turned it so the spout was pointing at my own seat. Alistair’s expression didn’t change, but I saw a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. When it was time to pour the wine, I used the skills I’d learned as a waitress to pour a perfect, full glass without spilling a single drop. “To your health, Father,” I said, my voice clear and warm. I had a whole repertoire of toasts ready, thanks to years of listening to customers in diners. When the butler brought out the main course, a whole roasted fish, I intercepted the platter and placed it on the table, carefully positioning it so the head was aimed directly at Alistair. “May our fortunes always be as plentiful as this feast,” I added. Veronica couldn’t believe how well I was performing. She was clenching her jaw, practically vibrating with the desire to challenge me. But at a formal dinner, she couldn’t make a scene. All she could do was watch me shine. I, in turn, watched Alistair, memorizing his every micro-expression. Between my observations and my mother’s intel, I was quickly piecing together a complete picture of his habits and personality. I navigated the meal with the grace of a seasoned socialite. After dinner, as the butler led us downstairs, I noticed that our group was smaller. Five more competitors were gone. The girl who had pointed the teapot at Alistair, the one who started eating early, even one who had spun the lazy Susan too aggressively, had all been eliminated. They were forced to sign the waiver and left with their hundred thousand dollars, their dreams of a billion-dollar inheritance shattered. Veronica jabbed me in the back. “See that, Zoe? That’s going to be you.” “Don’t think you’re so special just because you showed off a few cheap tricks. I’m about to show you what happens when you overestimate yourself.” I was done being timid. I shot back, my voice as cold as ice, “You should worry about yourself, Veronica.” “Because if I win, the very first thing I’m going to do is find you a nice, cozy pigsty to live in.” “You bitch!” Veronica’s face turned crimson. She raised her hand to slap me. Suddenly, Alistair stopped walking and turned to face us, his eyes scanning each of our faces. “Before we proceed to the next round, I have a very serious question for you all.” “I expect you to think carefully before giving me your official answer.” 4 I knew instantly. This was the next test. Everyone held their breath, waiting. “If, one day, my business empire was facing a catastrophic crisis,” Alistair began, his voice grave, “and the only way to save it was for you to marry a wealthy, brain-dead man who could not produce an heir… would you do it?” “And I want you to be very clear,” he added, his gaze intense. “This is not a hypothetical. This is something that could very well happen.” Before the silence could even settle, Veronica stepped forward. “Of course I would! I would do anything to help you, Father. No sacrifice is too great!” “And I believe that with my abilities, I could not only save the company through this marriage but also leverage my husband’s family resources to elevate our own empire to new heights!” Her passionate declaration broke the dam. The other girls rushed to pledge their loyalty. “As your daughter, it is my duty and my honor to secure our family’s legacy through marriage. I would die for our family’s glory!” “A brain-dead man with no heirs is even better! That way, I wouldn’t have to bear children for his family. I could have a child of my own, one who would carry our family name!” For a moment, the scene was almost heartwarming, a group of devoted daughters surrounding their beloved father. My mom, worried I’d be too slow-witted, sent a frantic message: [Honey, don’t listen to his blustering. This is just a loyalty test.] [Just say what everyone else is saying! Be sweet, flatter him. It’s the safe play!] But as I looked at Alistair’s face, I saw nothing. No emotion, no approval. Just that same, faint, calculating look in his eyes. A seed of doubt sprouted in my mind. Alistair’s reaction felt… off. Was it really as simple as just agreeing? Something felt deeply wrong. I stood there like a statue, my mind racing, trying to understand the real question. My mom was getting impatient: [Zoe, what are you waiting for? Just say yes!] [Use that cleverness you had at the dinner table! Say something charming like Veronica did and win him over.] [I dated that old goat for six months, I know how he operates! He’s always been a sucker for a sweet talker. Hurry up and say it!] No. That’s not right. My mother was wrong. Alistair wasn’t a man who could be easily manipulated. And a pretty speech was definitely not the right answer here. I replayed my brief interactions with him, his subtle expressions, the glint in his eyes. My brain kicked into overdrive. My continued silence drew everyone’s attention. Alistair’s brow furrowed as he stared at me. “Zoe. Is this a difficult question for you to answer?” “Look at your sisters. They all answered without a moment’s hesitation.” Veronica’s face was alight with smug satisfaction. “What’s the matter, country bumpkin? Did you not understand the question?” “Zoe, if I were you, I’d take the hundred grand and run. Save yourself the embarrassment.” The other girls started whispering, all waiting for me to fail. “So much for being the star at dinner. Now we see her for what she really is.” My mom was practically having a panic attack in the afterlife, wishing she could just climb out of the ground and answer for me: [Zoe, are you trying to kill me? Just say it!] [If you just say yes, you can stay in the running for the inheritance!] Everything and everyone was pushing me toward the same, seemingly safe, answer. The air was thick with anticipation. I took a deep breath and, in a voice that rang with conviction, I gave my answer. “I refuse.” Alistair’s face instantly darkened.

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1 After I took the fall for the fake heiress and was sent to prison. The guards forced me to kneel on shattered glass to repent, made me drink from the toilet, and seared my back with cigarette butts until it was a tapestry of scars. I endured a thousand days and nights of this hell, finally making it to my execution day. The cold, dark barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my head. Through a one-way mirror, I could see my family in the observation room, popping champagne to celebrate. My third brother, Kian, pointed at the monitor and roared with laughter. “Look at the way the little fool is shaking! She actually thinks she’s about to be executed for murder.” “Hiring a few actors to dress up in uniforms was a brilliant idea. We’ve scared the pride right out of the ‘true’ heiress.” “That’s what she gets for making our little princess cry. This ‘private prison’ is her own personal playground, built just for her.” The gun fired a blank. The sound ripped through me, tearing my sanity to shreds. Just as they were about to come in and enjoy the sight of my humiliating breakdown, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind: Host, have you had enough of this so-called family? Teleportation countdown initiated. Let them weep over a corpse. … I was strapped into the execution chair. Cold metal clamps bit into my wrists and ankles, digging into flesh that was already raw and infected. A hard, cold cylinder pressed against the base of my skull. The muzzle of a gun. Behind me, the crisp click of the bolt being pulled back sounded like the Grim Reaper knocking at my door. My body trembled uncontrollably. I bit my lip until it was a mangled mess, the coppery taste of blood flooding my mouth. Is this how it ends? I had spent a thousand days in this lightless “death row.” Three whole years. Three years it took me to go from screaming my innocence to silently begging for scraps of food. “Rhea Blackwood, I’ll ask you one last time. Do you confess to your crime?” The executioner’s voice was distorted by a modulator, sounding like harsh, electronic static. I managed to pull my lips into a pained grimace, my voice as raspy as a broken accordion. “I… confess.” What else could I do? If I didn’t confess, dinner tonight would be a bowl of rancid slop mixed with porcelain shards. If I didn’t confess, I’d be dragged to the water cell to soak in freezing, filthy water for twenty-four hours. If I didn’t confess, the barbed whip would fall on my back again, a back that had never had a chance to heal. I was terrified. The pain had broken me. “Very good.” The executioner seemed pleased with my submission. But something felt wrong. The wall directly in front of me suddenly became transparent. It was a massive one-way mirror, now electrified to reveal the scene behind it. The bright lights made me squint. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw them. My family. My eldest brother, Wyatt, swirled a glass of amber liquid, a mocking smile on his lips. My third brother, Kian, was clutching his stomach, laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face. And there, in the center of their adoring circle, was the fake heiress, Corinne. She wore an expensive designer gown, looking like a pure, innocent angel as she snuggled into our mother’s arms. There was no jury. No victim’s family. Only my biological parents and brothers, watching me as if I were a clown in a circus act. I froze. Even with a mind dulled by years of torment, I knew something was terribly wrong. This was no official execution chamber. 2 Kian’s voice, dripping with undisguised contempt, crackled through the speakers in the wall. “Look at the way the little fool is shaking! She actually thinks she’s about to be executed for murder.” “It was Corinne’s idea, and it was a brilliant one. Hire a few actors, put them in uniforms, and we’ve scared the pride right out of Rhea.” “That’s what she gets for making our little princess cry. This ‘private prison’ is her own personal playground, built just for her.” Every word was a sledgehammer to my heart. It was all fake. There was no murder, no prison, no sentence. This was all because three years ago, Corinne had framed me time and time again, until my family’s disappointment in me curdled into hate. The final straw was when she cried that I had pushed her down the stairs. Just because she had whispered, “Does my sister hate me?”, my entire family had conspired to create this hell for me. To appease their precious adopted daughter, they had spent a fortune building this basement, hiring professional actors, and faking everything. Three entire years. Right under their noses, I was tortured like an animal. And they were right here, on the other side of the glass, sipping wine and watching my suffering for their own amusement. A casual after-dinner entertainment. My vision blurred. Not with tears, but with a despair so absolute it felt like blindness. Corinne seemed to notice me looking at her. She walked up to the glass, picked up a microphone, and her voice, sickeningly sweet, filled my cell. “Happy birthday, sister.” “This little gift took the boys a long time to prepare. Do you like it?” “All you have to do is get on your knees, bow to me three times, and say you’re sorry. Then we’ll let you out, okay?” She giggled, a delicate, tinkling sound. Behind her, Wyatt stroked her hair fondly. “Corinne, you’re too soft-hearted. Trash like her should be scared to death in there.” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. A metallic sweetness flooded my throat. These were my blood relatives. The family I had fought so desperately to belong to, to please. “Proceed with the execution,” our father’s stern voice commanded, tinged with impatience. “Don’t be late for the celebration dinner tonight.” The “executioner” behind me pulled the trigger again. BANG! A deafening roar. I felt a massive impact at the back of my head, and a violent ringing consumed all other sound. It was a blank, but at this range, the concussive force and sound were enough to shatter a person’s spirit. My body convulsed, my heart seizing violently in my chest. The world began to spin as darkness flooded my vision. And in that final moment, a cold, mechanical voice exploded in my mind. [Host’s vital signs are in rapid decline.] [Host’s mental threshold has collapsed.] [System activated.] [Host, have you had enough of this so-called family?] With the last shred of my consciousness, I grasped onto that lifeline. Had I had enough? How could I not have? If I had another life, I would rather be a blade of grass, a stone, anything but a member of the Blackwood family. [Do you wish to abandon the salvation of the Blackwood family and depart from this world?] [The moment this body dies, you will be able to return to your original world and embrace a new life.] I want to go back. I’ve dreamed of escaping this place. [Affirmative. Teleportation sequence initiated.] [Detachment commencing.] [Let them weep over a corpse.] 3 The pain was gone. In its place was a lightness I had never felt before. My perspective began to rise, and I looked down at the emaciated, scar-covered body slumping lifelessly in the execution chair. That was my body. And it was my final “gift” to the Blackwood family. On the other side of the one-way mirror, the laughter continued. “Whoa, she’s down for the count!” Kian slapped his thigh, howling as he pointed at the monitor. “Not bad acting! That fall looked pretty convincing.” “She probably wet herself. That gunshot even made me jump.” Wyatt took a sip of his wine, his eyes full of contempt. “A coward is a coward. With guts like that, how did she ever think she could compete with Corinne?” Corinne covered her mouth, giggling, a flash of vicious pleasure in her eyes. “Don’t be so mean, boys. My sister has always been a bit timid.” “But that expression on her face was so ugly. Like a dead fish.” They were still waiting. Waiting for the person strapped to the chair to wake up from her terror, to start crying and begging for mercy, to get on her knees and bark like a dog. That was the script they had written. But a minute passed. Then two. The figure in the chair remained motionless. Not even the slightest rise and fall of her chest. Her head hung limply, like a broken doll. A strange stillness began to seep through the thick, soundproof glass. “What’s going on?” our mother frowned, setting down her teacup. “Why isn’t she getting up? Has she gotten addicted to playing dead?” Kian clicked his tongue in annoyance and grabbed the microphone. “Hey! Rhea! Stop faking it!” “The show’s over! Get up and bow to Corinne!” No response. Only the crackle of static from the speakers and the dead silence of the small room. The actor “guards” exchanged uneasy glances. The prop guns they used were specially made to produce sound and a slight puff of air. They were completely harmless. “Are these the actors you hired?” our father’s displeased gaze fell on Wyatt. “Completely inept. Did they actually scare her into fainting?” Wyatt’s face flushed with irritation. He slammed his glass down. “I’ll go wake her up.” “This stupid girl. I give her an easy way out, and she forces me to get my hands dirty.” He strode out of the observation room, pushed through the heavy metal door, and entered the “execution chamber.” Kian and Corinne followed, eager to get a closer look at my pathetic state. Wyatt walked up to me and kicked the iron leg of the chair. CLANG! “Wake up! How long are you going to keep this act up?!” My head lolled with the vibration of the chair, but it didn’t lift. My matted, yellowed hair covered my face, hiding my expression. Wyatt’s patience ran out. He reached out, grabbed the collar of my prison uniform, and tried to haul me to my feet. “I said—” His words died in his throat. His hand froze. The skin his fingertips touched was as cold as ice. Not the normal coolness of a living person, but a profound, bone-deep cold that had lost all trace of life. And she was so light. The person in his hands felt as light as a sheet of paper, as if she were nothing but a skeleton. Wyatt’s heart skipped a beat. He instinctively let go. My body, no longer supported, slid down the back of the chair and crumpled onto the concrete floor with a heavy thud. My limbs were bent at grotesque, unnatural angles. “What are you doing, bro?” Kian walked in, pinching his nose in disgust. The room stank of old blood and mildew. “Hurry up and wake her so we can get out of this dump. It stinks.” Wyatt didn’t speak. He stared at my body on the floor, his pupils constricting violently. That feeling… it wasn’t right. That stiffness… it wasn’t an act. “Kian, call a doctor,” Wyatt’s voice was hoarse. Kian paused. “A doctor? Why? Just throw a bucket of cold water on her. She’ll wake up.” “I SAID CALL A DOCTOR!!!” Wyatt suddenly roared, the veins on his neck bulging. The shout startled Corinne, who had just entered the room. “Wyatt, what’s wrong?” she pouted. “Sister is just playing dead to scare us. Why are you yelling at Kian?” Wyatt ignored her. He crouched down, his hand trembling as he slowly reached a finger toward my nose. No breath. Dead silence. He then shakily felt for a pulse on my neck. Nothing. Not even the faintest flutter. Wyatt collapsed onto the floor, his face instantly turning a deathly white. “She’s… gone.” “What’s gone?” Kian was still clueless, kicking my leg in annoyance. “Hey, Rhea, knock it off. You really think you’re some kind of A-list actress?” “I SAID SHE’S NOT BREATHING!!!” Wyatt whipped his head around, his eyes like those of a cornered animal. “SHE’S DEAD! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! SHE’S DEAD!!!” 4 “Dead?” Kian looked as if he’d just heard the world’s most ridiculous joke. “Bro, did she fool you too?” “How could a blank kill someone? We had experts calibrate these props!” Refusing to believe it, he crouched down to slap my face. “Rhea, that’s enough—” His hand touched my cheek. The icy, rigid feel of my skin made the words catch in his throat. Kian was a race car driver. He’d seen his share of blood and accidents. He knew the difference between a living person and a dead one just by touch. No one could fake that temperature. Kian snatched his hand back as if he’d been electrocuted. He scrambled backward, knocking over a nearby rack of torture implements. A loud crash of metal echoed through the room. “How could this happen…” Kian muttered, his eyes vacant. “The medical report said she was in good health…” “I had someone give her nutritional IVs regularly for the past three years…” “How could she just be scared to death by a single blank?” By now, our parents, who had been watching from the doorway, realized something was terribly wrong. Our father strode in, his face ashen. “What is all this commotion! Get a hold of yourselves!” Despite his stern words, his pace was hurried. If someone had actually died, even here, it would be a massive problem. Especially since the dead person was his own daughter. Even though he had never truly acknowledged me. “The doctors! Where are the doctors?!” he roared. There was no need to call for one from outside. Our second brother, Nolan, was a top surgeon. He had been delayed by an important surgery and hadn’t arrived yet. But the facility was equipped with its own emergency medical team, precisely to prevent them from “taking the game too far.” Several people in white coats rushed in. They were also on the family payroll, responsible for patching up my wounds to ensure I wouldn’t die, so the torture could continue. “Quick! See what’s happened!”

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