1 The day Silas Blackwood pulled me from Keelhaul Bay’s grimy fighting pit, I was in a thin top, laughing wildly. In my last life, I knew he had the wrong woman—Seraphina—but I seized the chance to escape. He swept me away, treating me like a treasure in his gilded cage. That ended when the real Seraphina’s death certificate arrived. I became the focus of all his hatred. “You lied. Because of you, Sera died out there. I’ll make you suffer everything she did, tenfold.” He threw me into a cellar of his own making, inventing new torments each night: blades testing my flesh, bone-deep cold, degrading treatment from his men. He watched coldly, only calling a doctor to keep me alive. Even the child I carried ten months, he tore away without hesitation. As steel sliced me open, he covered Seraphina’s eyes with tenderness. In my final moment, I threw myself onto the surgeon’s blade. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—beaten half to death, just as Silas rushed in. “Sera… is that you?” His hand, warm and gentle, brushed against my brow, but a chilling dread shot down my spine. I scrambled backward, away from his touch, and raked my nails across my forehead, desperate to destroy the very feature he recognized. “No! You’ve got the wrong person!” Blood and tears streamed down my face, my fingernails caked with grime and skin. But he cupped my face in his hands, his touch impossibly careful, and lifted me into his arms. “It’s okay, Sera, don’t be scared,” he murmured to his men. “We’re leaving this place. It doesn’t matter if you’ve lost your memory. I’ll get you the best doctors.” My body went rigid, a violent tremor shaking my entire frame. My mind went blank, a deafening roar filling my ears. The next time I woke up, I was in Blackwood Manor. The room, identical to the one from my last life, sent a jolt of pure terror through me. Ignoring the cast on my leg, I tumbled out of bed and crawled to the window. It wasn’t until I saw the endless, rolling hills stretching out to the horizon that a choked sob finally broke from my throat, and I shattered. Martha, the housekeeper, rushed in. Last time, she had been the one who cared for me so meticulously. “Miss? What’s wrong?” I grabbed her arm, my grip frantic. “I’m not Seraphina! Please, you have to tell him! You have to…” But her expression was calm, placid. She gently helped me back into bed, tucking the blankets around me. “Mr. Blackwood said you might be like this, Miss. He said you have amnesia. It’s normal to be confused.” Her voice was soothing, but it felt like a cage closing around me. “You are the one he was looking for. There’s no mistake. Just rest and let us take care of you.” But I wasn’t confused. I didn’t have amnesia. I curled into a ball, whispering the words over and over again like a prayer. “I’m not her… I’m really not.” In the days that followed, Silas was a constant presence. He’d shed his sharp suits for soft casual wear, his face fixed in a look of doting affection. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw the same obsessive monster from my past life. He pushed me out into the gardens in a wheelchair. “Look, Sera. I planted these roses for you. They were always your favorite.” He placed a single, perfect rose in my hand. “Do you remember? You cried and begged me to give you one just like this.” A tremor ran through me. I snatched my hand back and threw the rose, the flower striking him across the cheek and leaving a thin, bloody scratch. Martha gasped and dropped to her knees. “Sir! I… I’ll get the doctor right away…” “No need.” Silas waved her off, casually wiping the bead of blood away. “It was my fault. I forgot to remove the thorns. I must have pricked her.” He bent down, picked up the rose, and patiently began snapping the thorns off one by one. Watching his focused profile, a cold dread settled deep in my bones. In my last life, after he learned the truth, he forced me to kneel in this very rose garden. “Use your blood to dye them red,” he had sneered. “The color Seraphina loved most.” The feeling of thorns embedding themselves in my skin was a phantom pain I could never forget. I shivered. Desperate, I tried a new tactic, showing him the scars on my body that were mine alone, marks Seraphina never had. “Mr. Blackwood, look. I’m really not her.” But he only traced the faded lines with a pained expression. “You’ve just forgotten. Anyone would be changed after escaping a place like that.” His touch was the spark that lit the fuse. A decade of torture flashed before my eyes. A scream ripped from my throat and I broke, scrambling to flee, only for his men to grab me and inject me with a sedative. “Sleep, Sera,” he whispered, his brow furrowed in concern as the world went dark. “Just sleep, and everything will be okay.” I didn’t understand. This time, I had denied it from the very beginning. Why was he still so convinced, so utterly obsessed? I began to push him, testing his limits, determined to make him see the truth. He took me to a gala; I feigned a mad fit and humiliated him in front of everyone. His assistant paled, ready to drag me away, but Silas just tightened his grip on my hand, keeping me anchored to his side. He hired a private chef; I refused to eat. He never forced me, simply leaving the food outside my door. When hunger finally drove me to sneak out in the dead of night, I found the meal was still perfectly warm. He brewed bitter medicine for me with his own hands, practically begging me to take a sip. I smiled, then deliberately knocked the bowl from his hands, scalding his chest and arms. As I braced for the blow I knew was coming, he simply turned and began picking up the porcelain shards. “It’s alright, Sera. It was probably too bitter. I’ll go make another batch.” A sharp edge cut his finger. The bright red blood stood out, stark against the white porcelain. A strange pang of sorrow twisted in my chest. Silas was even gentler than he had been in our first life. But I couldn’t let myself be fooled. His gentleness now was a terrifying omen. I couldn’t begin to imagine the hell that would await me when the news of the real Seraphina’s death finally reached him. A month later, I learned Silas was away on business. That night, under the cloak of darkness, I made my escape, heading for the small, dense wood on the southern edge of the estate. There was a hidden exit there. In my last life, Silas used to throw me into that forest to fight for my life against wild animals. As I would lie broken and bleeding, crying for mercy, he would stand over me, his shoe pressing on my shattered limbs. “Do you think Seraphina was any less helpless in the Triangle?” he’d ask. I spent six months in that forest, teetering on the edge of sanity, before I stumbled upon that hidden gate. I thought I was finally free. But they dragged me back. I can still feel the memory of Silas’s fingers closing around my throat, his voice a low growl. “You will never escape me.” The memory made my legs tremble, but I forced myself to keep moving. I didn’t stop until my crutch caught on a loose stone, sending me sprawling. The sudden, absolute silence was terrifying. My blood ran cold. Instinct took over and I started clawing my way toward the nearest tree, but it was too late. A tiger’s roar ripped through the air, so close I could smell the rot of its last meal on its breath. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the tearing of claws and teeth. But the pain never came. When I opened my eyes, Silas was standing in front of me, his left shoulder clamped firmly in the tiger’s jaws. He didn’t even glance at the wound. His eyes, intense and searching, were locked on me. “How did you know about this path?” I froze, the world narrowing to his question. Tears, hot and real, welled up and streamed down my face. I collapsed into a heap of sobs. “I was trying to find you,” I wailed, letting my body tremble as if from sheer terror. “I don’t know how I ended up here…” His grip on my arm slowly loosened. “I’m being paranoid,” he murmured, his voice dropping low. “How could a cripple possibly know the most dangerous and hidden path on the estate?” He shielded me with his body, lifting me into his arms and carrying me all the way back to the manor. There was no escape. So, I decided to play the part. If he wanted me to be Seraphina, then fine. He’d find out the truth eventually, one way or another. I had done everything I could. I started eating again. I stopped fighting him. Whatever he thought his Seraphina should do, I did it. But this Silas was different from the last. He didn’t force me to learn the piano or play chess. Instead, he was always asking me what I wanted. Who was I? Was I his Seraphina, or was I myself? I stopped resisting his kindness, but I never once smiled at him. I spent my days on the balcony, my gaze lost on a distant patch of sky. The staff grew accustomed to my silence. Only Martha would sigh sometimes, saying I was like a beautiful doll that had lost its soul. One afternoon, we were playing chess. I stared at my white piece, trapped and surrounded by his black ones, and a single tear rolled down my cheek. “Silas.” He looked up, startled by my sudden emotion, and quickly came to my side. “Sera, what is it? Tell me.” “I’m really not Seraphina,” I said, my voice hollow. “You’re going to regret this.” He stared at me for a long moment. “You just have amnesia, Sera. It’s okay.” I knew he would say that. A bitter smile touched my lips. “I want to go to the San Varcas Triangle. I want to save the people trapped there, the people who are just like I was.” The hand he was using to place a piece on the board paused. I looked at the black stone in his fingers and thought of the Seraphina who had died there in my last life. Her body, mangled beyond recognition in the news photos. When the coroner’s report landed in Silas’s hands, he had looked at me as if he wanted to skin me alive. If, in this life, I could rescue her first… maybe he wouldn’t hate me so much. He finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Okay.” I went there. He took me straight to the most secluded cellar in the compound. The room was dim, but I could make out the grotesque shape of a heavyset man, his face a roadmap of scars, grunting and thrusting on the bed. My heart leaped into my throat and a scream tore from my lips before I could stop it. “Stop! Get off her!” Like a woman possessed, I swung my crutch, bringing it down hard on the man’s head. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious and bleeding. On the bed, a young woman stared back at me, her eyes wide with shock. It was Seraphina. Her body was a canvas of bruises, a ring of circular cigarette burns scarring the skin around her waist. But her limbs were intact. She wasn’t the broken wreck from the photographs. I had made it in time. Seraphina’s gaze shifted past me to the man standing in the doorway, and a light ignited in her eyes. “Si… Silas?” I lowered my head and stepped aside, leaving the two of them to their reunion. But as I turned to leave, his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. “Where are you going?” I looked at him, confused. His expression was as cool and distant as ever. This wasn’t the emotional reunion I had pictured. I expected his eyes to well with tears, for him to rush to her side, to break down. He did none of those things. “I… I won’t disturb you…” He didn’t answer. The pressure on my wrist just tightened. “We’re going home.” He led me out, not once looking back. On the plane, Silas kept his eyes closed, but the deep furrow in his brow told me he was awake. I whispered, my voice barely audible, “Silas, I’ve given Seraphina back to you…” He remained silent, the line between his brows deepening. When we returned to the manor, Martha was there to greet us. She stopped short when she saw Seraphina, her eyes flicking between the two of us. “Miss…?” “There are two of them now,” Silas said flatly. He gestured to Seraphina. “Prepare a guest room for her.” Then he pointed at me, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She stays in her old room.” Martha nodded and led a bewildered Seraphina away. Silas’s expression was dark, unreadable. I sat silently in my wheelchair, bracing for the storm I knew was coming. Instead, his voice came out quiet, measured. “You knew the real Seraphina was in the Triangle all along, didn’t you?” He knelt before me, tilting my chin up so I was forced to meet his gaze. His eyes were sharp, analytical, searching for something. “My people searched for six months and couldn’t find a single trace of her. How did you find her the moment you arrived?” My breath hitched. I opened my mouth, but no explanation came. He leaned closer, his warm breath ghosting across my cheek. “Aria… are you… reborn, too?”

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My brother, Gavin Lancaster—the family heir—tossed all evidence and witnesses to prove himself a legal prodigy. The opposing counsel buried him with their own proof, leaving him speechless. I had made copies. Submitting them at the last minute, I testified for the victim and salvaged the win. At home, he exploded. “Who asked you to play hero? I was about to break through! Now everyone sees me as a fool! What are you proving, you imposter?” My parents turned on me; only my sister Serena defended me. She even married me against their will. But I was a fool. She only wed me to torture me more intimately. She had countless affairs, rarely came home, and stood as opposing counsel in every case of mine. It peaked when one of her lovers ran me over, costing me my legs. In court, she defended him. I broke. “Don’t you have a conscience? I’ve called you sister since I was four!” “And you?” she sneered. “You stole Gavin’s life at four.” In despair, I jumped from the roof. When I opened my eyes, I was back—on the day of my brother’s “evidence-free” defense. … When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting in the gallery of the courtroom. The defense attorney was just as aggressive as he had been in my previous life. “Mr. Lancaster has spent this entire trial lecturing us on legal statutes,” the opposing counsel sneered, pacing the floor. “But where is the evidence to refute my client’s claims? A courtroom is a place for facts, not fairy tales. Mr. Lancaster, you keep claiming my clients are lying. So, where is your proof?” A single drop of cold sweat rolled down Gavin’s temple. In my past life, this was the exact moment he began to crumble. He had already thrown all the physical evidence into a dumpster before the trial began, arrogant enough to believe he could win on rhetoric alone. Back then, after failing to talk sense into him, I had secretly gone to the sanitation site, dug through the filth, and retrieved every single piece of evidence. And at this precise moment in the last timeline, I had stood up from the gallery, holding the files high. “I have the evidence!” I had shouted. That one action saved Gavin’s law license. But it also ruined his grand plan for an “evidence-free defense.” “Oh, the evidence… of course I have it…” Gavin’s voice trembled now. His eyes scanned the room and locked onto me in the gallery. He furrowed his brows, shooting me a vicious glare. Gavin was arrogant. Ever since the Lancaster family found him and brought him home as their true biological son, he had been desperate to prove himself. But his arrogance was entirely built on the fact that I was always there, standing in his shadow, cleaning up his messes. Right now, his gaze held that familiar, entitled threat. But this time, I didn’t move. I turned my head and deliberately looked away. I heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Mr. Lancaster? We are waiting. Where is the evidence?” the opposing counsel pressed. “The… the evidence…” Gavin stammered, another bead of sweat dripping from his chin. He was frantically winking and signaling at me now. I stared blankly at the wall, completely blind to his panic. The judge cleared his throat, his patience worn thin. “If the plaintiff cannot produce reliable evidence, the charges cannot be substantiated. Case dismissed.” “What…” Gavin’s legs gave out, and he collapsed into his chair. The family of the bullied girl erupted into a frenzy of grief. “No! That’s impossible! We gave you the evidence!” the mother screamed, lunging toward the defense table. “We gave you our daughter’s clothes, her diary! Mr. Lancaster, bring them out! Please!” Gavin’s face was ashen. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Looking at the victims’ heartbroken parents, I frowned. My fingers twitched, but in the end, I kept my hands in my lap. I’m sorry, I thought. Just wait a little longer. Please, just wait. Now was not the time to act. Just this once, I needed to be selfish. I stood up to leave. Suddenly, a heavy gaze fell upon me. My breath hitched in my throat. Serena. My adoptive sister. And in my past life, my wife. Her eyes were dark with dissatisfaction and a hint of accusation. I let out a cold scoff. Instead of walking toward her like an obedient puppy as I used to, I bypassed her entirely and strode out of the courtroom. But when I reached the corridor, she was already waiting for me. I kept my face impassive and tried to brush past her, but her hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. She shoved me against the marble wall. Her hazel eyes were a storm of cold fury. “You had the evidence. Why didn’t you help him?” My heart seized. I hadn’t told a single soul that I had secretly retrieved the evidence. The fact that she knew could only mean one thing. She had been reborn, too. Looking at that gaze, a gaze identical to the one from my past life, my eyes burned. In my previous life, right before I died, I had screamed at her, begging for answers. She had looked at me with this exact same, indifferent gaze. Back then, my legs had been amputated from the knees down. We had lost the lawsuit. I looked like a raving lunatic in my wheelchair. “Did you marry me just so you could torture me better?” I had shrieked. She had only smiled, a playful, cruel tilt of her lips. “You ruined Gavin’s career. I ruined your life. Seems fair, doesn’t it?” She didn’t know that by then, I was already consumed by severe depression. Sitting on the windowsill, I had offered her a bitter smile and tipped backward. In my final moments, I saw her lunge toward me like a madwoman, reaching out to grab my hand. She missed by an inch. As I fell, I saw her hanging over the ledge, screaming my name. Before I hit the ground, my first memory of her flashed before my eyes. In the orphanage, pointing a small finger at me. “I want him to be my brother.” At school, standing between me and the bullies. “He is my brother. Touch him and see what happens.” Growing up, introducing me to the titans of the legal world. “This is my brother. If he makes a mistake, it’s my fault for not teaching him well. Please be patient with him.” For a fleeting moment, I used to believe she truly cared for me. But given a second chance, her eyes still held no place for me. I was just the outsider. Slap. The sound echoed in the hallway. Her face turned to the side, her eyes wide with shock. My voice was dead, devoid of all emotion. “That slap is for my lost legs.” “Rowan?” she whispered, instinctively calling me by my childhood name. I stepped around her and walked away without looking back. When I returned to the Lancaster estate, Gavin was in the middle of one of his usual tantrums. “Rowan is a lawyer too!” Gavin was shouting. “He was sitting right there in the gallery, watching me make a fool of myself! Now the entire legal community is laughing at me. Is that what he wants? That cuckoo in the nest, does he just get off on seeing the real son fail?” It was almost impressive. Even when I did absolutely nothing, Gavin found a way to blame me. But of course. In this house, Gavin could do no wrong. He was the biological son who had been lost to the world, the one who suffered while I enjoyed everything that was rightfully his. Therefore, I was the villain. Right on cue, Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster turned their furious gazes on me. “Why didn’t you help him?” my mother demanded. “He threw away all the evidence himself,” I replied calmly. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. What could I do? I can’t speak in court without proof.” “Excuses!” Mother slammed her hand on the table. “You have a perfect win record. You could have said something, anything! The whole city was watching Gavin’s big debut. You just wanted him to look bad. You refused to help on purpose!” My father gritted his teeth. “If you had just stepped up, your brother would have won this case. We raised you for twenty years, and this is how you repay us? You ungrateful wretch!” I looked at them coldly. Unbidden, a sting of moisture gathered in my eyes. There was a time when they proudly called themselves my parents. When I got into law school, they hung banners and bragged to anyone who would listen about their brilliant son. Mother’s warm hands used to cup my face. Father always remembered to bring me my favorite cake on his way home from work. I hadn’t changed. Why was it that suddenly, my very existence was a crime? Gavin stepped forward, a smug look in his eyes. “Brother, I’m going to file an appeal. This time, help me out. Just consider it repaying Mom and Dad for raising you. Fair?” I looked at my parents. Then, I reached into my pocket, pulled out a bank card, and placed it on the mahogany table. “Every cent you’ve spent on me over the past twenty years is in this account,” I said quietly. They froze. “What is the meaning of this?” my father asked. I met their gaze without flinching. “From today onward, I, the cuckoo in the nest, will no longer intrude on your lives. I wish the four of you a very happy future.” My parents stood up in shock. I turned on my heel and bumped into someone. Serena was standing behind me. She was frowning, her eyes searching my face. I ignored her and walked straight to my bedroom. I left behind every luxury item my parents and Serena had ever bought for me. I packed only the clothes and essentials I had purchased with my own salary. When I emerged, holding a single cardboard box, Serena was blocking the doorway. “Ms. Lancaster, excuse me,” I said. “Can you not leave?” I thought I misheard her. There was a tremor of fear in her voice, something I had never heard from the iron-willed Serena. When I didn’t answer, her tone softened further. “I misspoke earlier. Don’t be angry, okay? Rowan, you’ve been with us since you were four. In the past, we were even married for three years…” She stopped, swallowing the rest of her words. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at me. “You might be willing to walk away, but I can’t bear to let you go.” I stared at her, my jaw clenched. “Have you forgotten everything you did to me during those three years of marriage?” A tear spilled down her cheek. “Rowan…” “Get out of my way.” I shoved past her, squeezing through the gap in the doorway. She instinctively reached out to grab my sleeve. Just like the moment I fell from the building in my past life. She missed by an inch. With her desperate calls echoing behind me, I quickened my pace. Once I walked out of that door, I never looked back. I contacted the victims. I presented them with the evidence Gavin had tossed away. They nearly fell to their knees in gratitude and immediately hired me to represent them. The retrial was scheduled, and once again, the public’s eyes were fixed on the case. Could the adopted brother win the case the biological son had butchered? Before the trial, I ran into a familiar face in the parking lot. Serena was standing near my car, watching me. Her eyes were filled with worry and longing. “Are you still angry with me?” she asked, her voice as gentle as it used to be years ago. I turned to leave. She grabbed my wrist. “In our last life, it was my fault. I was wrong. Please, come home with me.” “Let go of me!” I shoved her. She stumbled backward, barely keeping her balance. For a long moment, she stood there. Then, she smiled, a sad, red-eyed smile. “Rowan, do you hate me that much now?” “Yes!” I spat, staring into her eyes without an ounce of hesitation. Her eyes grew redder. Her voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry.” “What are—mmmph!” Before I could finish, a chemical-soaked cloth was clamped over my nose and mouth from behind. My limbs instantly turned to lead, and I collapsed into Serena’s waiting arms. “Rowan, I have to do this,” she whispered. In a haze, I felt her bodyguards dragging me into a car. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a plush, king-sized bed. I looked at the decor, and a violent shudder ran through my body. This was the marital home Serena and I shared in our past life. What was she doing? How had she renovated this place so quickly? On the nightstand sat photos of me as a child, alongside pictures of the two of us together. What was Serena planning? Panic set in. I looked at the clock. Court day. I had been unconscious for over twenty-four hours. Where was my evidence? Where was the folder? Had I left it at my apartment? There was no time to go back. I threw on my clothes and bolted out the door, calling a friend to search my place while I hailed a cab to the courthouse. But when I arrived, panting and out of breath, I was too late. Gavin was already standing at the defense table, right where I was supposed to be. And in his hand was my missing evidence folder. When the judge declared a victory for the defense, the courtroom erupted in applause. Gavin wore a triumphant, smug smile. He turned, his eyes landing on me standing by the gallery doors, and his smile widened. But my eyes bypassed him. They landed on the woman sitting in the gallery, clapping politely. Serena turned her head. Our eyes met, and she froze. “It was you,” I whispered, the sound of my own voice dead and hollow. Rowan, this trial is crucial for his career reputation. I have to do this. Someone in the crowd pointed at me. “Hey? Isn’t that the lawyer who was supposed to represent them today? What is he doing standing there?” “Hah, I bet he got scared.” “Thank god Mr. Gavin Lancaster stepped up. This guy bailed at the last minute. He doesn’t even deserve to call himself a lawyer. Pathetic!” I turned to leave, but the courthouse entrance was already swarming with reporters. I didn’t want to deal with them, so I hurried down the steps. A reporter grabbed my arm, yanking me so hard I fell to my knees on the concrete. Pain shot up my legs. Cameras flashed in my face. “You were the original attorney for the victims, weren’t you? Why did Gavin Lancaster replace you at the last second?” “Were you just using this case for clout, feeding off the victims’ misery?” I gritted my teeth. “No!” “Then why are you late? If your brother hadn’t stepped in, the victims would have suffered a huge injustice!” “Are you fit to practice law? You’re a coward!” “Don’t run! You’re not going anywhere until you give us an answer!” I was pinned to the ground, my knees scraping against the hard stone, my suit rumpled and dirty. It was humiliating. A figure flashed on the steps above. I looked up and met Serena’s eyes. A flicker of genuine heartache crossed her face. But then, she looked at Gavin, who was beaming under the adoration of the crowd. She looked back at me and mouthed a silent message. Hold on just a little longer. A camera lens bumped into my forehead. I stared at the aggressive reporters crowding around me. “You want an answer?” I spat. “Fine.” I tapped my phone screen twice. A video began to play, projected on a tablet I held up to the cameras. Gasps rippled through the crowd. “Is… is that Gavin Lancaster?!” “Why is he throwing the evidence into a trash compactor?” Reporters scrambled to record the screen. I watched them with cold satisfaction. After my rebirth, I wasn’t taking any chances. To prevent being accused of withholding evidence, I had gone to the sanitation company after the first trial and bought their security footage. The video clearly showed Gavin destroying the files. It also showed me arriving minutes later, digging through the trash to save them before they hit the shredder. I had originally kept it just to prove the chain of custody for the trial. I never expected to use it here. The media swarm instantly pivoted. Gavin was surrounded. “Mr. Lancaster, why did you destroy the evidence? Was it just for your ego?” “How did you get the evidence back? Did your sister give it to you, or… did you steal it?” Gavin panicked. “What? Steal? I didn’t…” “Then how did you get it?” “I… I…” “You piece of trash!” The victim’s father roared, pushing through the crowd. He was watching the video of Gavin throwing his daughter’s clothes into the garbage. “We trusted you with everything we had! You threw it away for your own vanity!” “If it wasn’t for Rowan Lancaster, our daughter’s case would be dead!” the mother screamed. “You monster! Rot in hell!” A fist connected with Gavin’s face. The girl’s mother turned and dropped to her knees before me. “Thank you for finding the evidence! My daughter was going to kill herself. Thank you!” Kill herself… The image of my own fall from the building flashed before my eyes. I quickly reached out to help her up. “Please, don’t. It’s my job.” “Hold on.” A familiar, authoritative voice cut through the chaos.

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1 Isabelle’s young assistant, Liam, was swiping my credit card like it was his own personal piggy bank, all while running his mouth in a high-end French restaurant, calling me a worthless kept man. Furious, I froze the card. He was left with a bill he couldn’t pay, not only facing public humiliation but also getting detained by the manager overnight. When Isabelle found out, she just tapped my nose playfully. “Oh, you,” she said with a little laugh. “Such a big man, getting into a jealous spat with a boy. Now he’s a laughingstock.” She didn’t blame me. She acted like it was nothing. Until my birthday. She took me to that same French restaurant, ordering dozens of tables’ worth of expensive dishes and vintage wines, claiming her friends were on their way to celebrate with us. “Honey, I’ll be right back,” she said, kissing my cheek. “Just need to step out for a moment, then I’ll be back to celebrate with you.” I waited until the restaurant was about to close. She never came back. Neither did any of her “friends.” When I went to pay, the manager gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Mr. Ashton, this card has been frozen.” … “Frozen?” Isabelle had given me the card. Before we left, she’d swapped it with mine, insisting that since it was my birthday, the bill was on her. I’d been so touched, thinking how lucky I was to have such a thoughtful, wonderful wife. But now, she was gone. I’d called her a dozen times, each one going straight to voicemail. If this card didn’t work, I was in serious trouble. The manager’s polite smile was already curdling into impatience. “Mr. Ashton, do you have another card you can use? I must remind you, we don’t allow tabs here. You’ll recall what happened last month, won’t you?” Of course, I remembered. Last month, it was Isabelle’s assistant, Liam, who had been humiliated here. The same assistant who called me a worthless leech who’d married into money. And then, it hit me. A cold dread crept up my spine. Was this Isabelle’s revenge? Was she doing this for him? Just as the thought formed, the click-clack of high heels echoed from the entrance. I turned, and there she was. Isabelle, with Liam clinging to her arm, his face a mask of smug satisfaction. Behind them trailed a crowd of their friends, all of them looking at me like I was the main event at a circus. “Cole,” Isabelle said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You love punishing people who can’t pay their bills, don’t you? Now you get to experience it for yourself. Let’s see how you handle it.” The restaurant erupted in whispers. “That’s Cole Ashton. I heard he married into the Monroe fortune. And now his wife is here with her new boy toy to watch him squirm.” “Hahaha, see? That’s what happens when you’re just a pretty face.” “Exactly. Youth doesn’t last forever. The moment the rich wife finds someone younger and hotter, the party’s over for the old trophy husband.” My hands slowly clenched into fists, a hot wave of humiliation washing over me. It was just as I suspected. This was all for Liam. This was her trap. Isabelle led Liam to the table and sat down, pulling him onto her lap. “Don’t you worry, my dear Liam,” she cooed, stroking his hair. “However he shamed you that day, I’ll pay him back tenfold.” Liam’s face lit up. He leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, Isabelle.” Then, he shot me a triumphant, venomous look. “You’re just a pathetic freeloader, Cole. What right did you have to cut me off?” He punctuated his sentence by grabbing a bottle of expensive red wine and smashing it at my feet. CRASH! The dark liquid splattered across my pants, adding to my dishevelment. “Hahahaha! You’re finished, you loser!” Liam crowed. “Isabelle is paying for me now. I can break as many bottles as I want. But you? You’re screwed.” Isabelle smirked at me. “Don’t you dare look at me like that. If you have the money, you’re free to pay the bill and walk out.” A chorus of laughter followed. “Money? What money could he possibly have?” “The cost of the food and all that opened wine is astronomical.” “He’s a kept man. Without her, he’s nothing.” 2 To complete my humiliation, Isabelle stood up, her cold gaze sweeping across the room. “Let me be clear. Anyone who dares to help Cole Ashton tonight becomes an enemy of mine—and an enemy of the Monroe family.” Everyone in this city knew you didn’t cross the Monroes. A few business partners I was friendly with, men I had negotiated deals for on behalf of Isabelle’s family, had started to rise from their seats. But at her words, they sank back down, their faces pale. “Did you see that? She’s serious.” “I know! I thought they were a happy couple. I figured she was just blowing off steam, but this is real.” “With a threat like that, who would dare help him?” My control snapped. I strode over and grabbed Isabelle’s arm. “Are you really doing this? Humiliating me in front of everyone for this… this boy toy?” She ripped her arm away and slapped me hard across the face. SMACK! “Yes!” My head whipped to the side, my cheek stinging. I couldn’t believe it. For three years, we were the city’s golden couple. She was the one who pursued me when I first arrived here, a nobody. At our wedding, she had sworn to be loyal forever, to love me with every fiber of her being. And now? Three years. That’s all it took for those vows, those memories, to be shattered by this cold, cruel spectacle. The whispers were right. A trophy husband has no dignity. The moment she finds a new, younger distraction, his gilded life is over. But Isabelle had no idea. The reason I had willingly married into her family wasn’t for their money. It was because I loved her. I stared at her, my eyes burning with rage. She calmly took out a silk handkerchief and began to wipe the hand she had just used to strike me. “You know how fond I am of Liam,” she said disdainfully. “And yet you just had to push it.” “Cole, if you can’t pay this bill, I’ll have the manager strip you naked and throw you out on the street.” A wave of cheers and jeers went through the crowd. All eyes were on me, filled with mockery. “Wow, she’s really going for it. Throwing her own husband to the wolves for her new pet.” “Well, he won’t be her husband for long, by the looks of it.” “Hahaha, let’s just sit back and enjoy the show.” A coterie of wealthy older women was watching me with predatory eyes. “Mmm, I’d love to see if he’s got abs,” one of them purred. “Hahaha!” My face was hot with shame. Isabelle had taken my wallet before we left, ensuring I was completely defenseless. All I had was the expensive suit on my back. Even my phone was dead. I realized now that this had all been meticulously planned. 3 “It’s getting late, Ashton,” Liam sneered. “The restaurant wants to close. You’re not going to tell us you can’t pay, are you?” “What a shame,” he continued, lighting a cigarette and blowing a cloud of smoke in my face. “If you can’t pay, they’ll have to detain you. Just like you did to me, right?” The sheer arrogance on his face was too much. I lunged at him, my fist connecting with his jaw, sending him stumbling back into a table. The scene dissolved into chaos. “Cole, stop it!” Isabelle shrieked, her voice filled with concern for Liam. She signaled her bodyguards, who tackled me, throwing me to the floor. “What’s wrong?” she said, standing over me. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” My eyes were bloodshot as I stared up at her. The only reason the Monroe family had climbed to the top of the city’s elite in just three years was because of me. I had used my family’s influence to clear their path, to fend off the sharks and criminals who would have torn them apart. Tonight was supposed to be the night I told her everything. That I wasn’t just some kid from nowhere. That I was the heir to the Ashton dynasty, the most powerful of Northwood’s Four Founding Families. I was going to take her home to meet my parents. But people change so fast. I had misjudged her completely. I had overestimated her character. “Isabelle,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Are you really going to make me walk out of here in shame?” She laughed. “What do you think all this was for? Decoration?” Liam, emboldened by the bodyguards, stepped forward and punched me in the face. “Here are your choices, Ashton. Either you can’t pay and get hauled away, or you can get on all fours, take this steak in your mouth, and crawl out of here like a dog.” “Oh, and the first option is naked,” he added with a grin. “The second, you get to keep your clothes, but not your dignity. Hahaha! Choose! I’m getting impatient.” With dozens of pairs of eyes on me, I pushed myself to my feet. I looked at Isabelle, my heart a block of ice. “Fine. This is your choice. When the Monroe empire comes crashing down, it will be on you.” Liam was the first to laugh, a loud, braying sound. The entire restaurant joined in. “Hahaha! Is this guy for real?” “He’s been reading too many romance novels. Thinks he’s some secret billionaire.” “He’s lost his mind. The humiliation has broken him.” Isabelle glared at me, believing I was bluffing. She picked up a plate of food and threw it at me. “Stop spouting nonsense. The Monroe family, bankrupt? You wish. Worry about yourself right now!” “Manager!” A nod from Isabelle was all it took. The manager and his security guards approached me. “Mr. Ashton,” he said coolly, “will that be cash, or will someone else be covering your bill?” Despite the situation, he maintained a shred of professional courtesy. My eyes scanned the room, landing on a business associate I had worked with frequently, a man I had made very rich on behalf of the Monroes. I started walking towards him. He saw me coming and immediately shot up from his chair, backing away. “Cole, don’t. I can’t help you…” “Relax,” I said calmly. “I’m not asking you to pay. I just need to borrow your phone.” “Can I?” I asked, my voice even. “I just need to make one call. A friend of mine will bring the money.” Liam howled with laughter. “He’s still trying to act tough! In this city, who would dare bring you money now?” “Go on, let him call!” he announced to the crowd. “We’ll give him half an hour. If the money’s not here by then, I’ll let these lovely single ladies have their fun with him. A man used by the richest woman in the city must be good, right?” He winked at the group of predatory women, who were practically drooling. 4 My associate, under Liam’s command, handed me his phone. I quickly made the call, telling my friend to get here with cash, and fast. The minutes ticked by. With ten minutes left on the clock, Liam was getting restless. “I can’t believe I fell for that,” he scoffed. “As if some ‘friend’ is going to show up and save him.” “He’s just stalling for time.” “Manager, let’s just break his legs and get this over with. No one is coming.” As the security guards advanced on me, I held up a hand. “Hold on. There are still ten minutes left.” “When those ten minutes are up, the money will be here.” Liam sneered. “Ten minutes up, hell, I’ll give you twenty. If no one shows up with the money, I’ll be the one to get on all fours with a steak in my mouth and crawl out.” My eyes lit up. “You said that. Everyone here is a witness.” “Damn right, I said it!” The crowd buzzed with excitement again. “This is better than a movie!” As the final minutes dwindled, one of the rich women couldn’t wait any longer. She reached out and ran a hand down my chest. “Don’t touch me!” I snapped, swatting her hand away. “Ooh, feisty,” she purred. “Such a nice chest. A great body. I can tell even without touching.” “Isabelle, dear, why don’t you just give him to me?” Isabelle took a sip of her wine, admiring her freshly manicured nails. “Why not? If he can’t pay, you can all have your fun with him.” “Hahaha, well then, I’m first in line!” Convinced I was doomed, they swarmed me, ignoring my protests. My voice was lethal, but they didn’t care. Liam gave the order to Isabelle’s bodyguards. “Hold him down. Let the ladies have their prize.” “Yes, sir!” The bodyguards surged forward, pinning me. I looked at Isabelle, my heart turning to stone. We were still husband and wife, legally. And she was letting other women assault me. This was a humiliation for her as much as for me. But she just shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to help you. All that matters is that Liam is happy.” That was all the encouragement the women needed. “Come with me, handsome!” “I have money, sweetie! I can pay your bill!” “No, no, come with me! I’m prettier than her!” They clawed at my suit, tearing the expensive fabric, while the bodyguards held me fast. The men in the restaurant roared with laughter. I memorized every face. “You want to watch a joke?” I snarled. “Soon, you’ll all be the joke.” “And you,” I said, my eyes locking on Liam. He spat on the floor. “Strip him! Time’s up! No more…” He never finished his sentence. The doors to the restaurant burst open, and a squad of men in black suits stormed in. They moved with military precision, swiftly and brutally taking down Isabelle’s bodyguards. Following them was Donovan Grey, the president of the city’s largest bank, a man whose name was whispered with awe in every boardroom. He carried a briefcase, his face a mask of grim determination. “Mr. Ashton,” he said, his voice ringing through the silent room. “I’ve brought the funds. I trust I’m not too late.”

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The engagement party had just ended when my diamond ring disappeared. After a frantic search, it was found on the finger of my fiancé’s childhood “little sister,” Scarlett. “I was just curious,” she cooed, wiggling her hand. “Now it’s stuck.” Expressionless, I watched a jeweler cut the ring I’d designed. My fiancé, Preston, frowned and wrapped an arm around her. “Scarlett saved my life. I’d give her anything I own.” Leaning into him, Scarlett smirked at me. “Ava, stop seeing every woman as competition. We’re like siblings. You’re the one with a dirty mind.” Preston nodded, disappointed. “I love you, but you can’t disrespect her. She’s my family.” A cold smile touched my lips. Three days ago, I’d been bound to a system that made my words reality—a “Speak and It Shall Be Done.” If Preston insisted Scarlett was his real sister, and was so willing to give her everything… I’d grant his wish. If he was so generous with his “dear sister,” would he also hand over his position as heir to the Donovan fortune? After all, a real sister should have inheritance rights. 1 A notification chimed in my mind. 【Law of Utterance: Activated.】 【In twenty-four hours, a DNA analysis confirming the biological relationship between Preston Donovan and Scarlett will be automatically generated and delivered to all relevant parties.】 I tapped my fingers together, a sense of grim satisfaction settling over me. I hoped Preston would appreciate the grand gift I was about to give him. Oblivious to the storm about to break, he saw my silence and his voice sharpened with impatience. “This is our engagement party. Everyone’s coming back to the house to celebrate with us. Don’t walk around with that long face and ruin the mood for everyone.” He looked at me as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. I stretched my lips into a smile, my voice dripping with false sweetness. “Of course not.” As dusk settled, the villa Preston and I were meant to share as our marital home filled with our friends. Scarlett was a vision in a champagne-colored minidress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, the very picture of youthful innocence. She slipped her feet into a pair of pink slippers waiting by the door—slippers Preston had bought specifically for her. She flitted around the living room, snatching a chip from Preston’s hand one moment, leaning against his shoulder to peer at his phone the next. Their effortless intimacy cast a pall of awkwardness over the other guests, but no one dared to say a word. At the dinner table, the mood was boisterous. After a few drinks, Scarlett’s cheeks were flushed a pretty pink. She raised her glass to Preston. “Preston, my dear brother, it’s your engagement day! Let’s link arms and drink to celebrate!” The table fell silent. Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Scarlett feigned a moment of realization, sticking her tongue out playfully in my direction. “Oh, Ava, you don’t mind, do you? We’re just having fun, livening things up.” Before I could answer, Preston cut in with a laugh. “Don’t be silly. My fiancée isn’t petty like you. She’s the most generous person I know.” He leaned in close, his breath warm and smelling of wine against my ear. “Ava, everyone’s just trying to have a good time for us. Don’t spoil it,” he murmured, a clear warning in his tone. “Making a scene won’t do you any favors.” A triumphant glint flashed in Scarlett’s eyes as she held her glass, waiting. I watched their arms intertwine, watched them tilt their heads back and drain their glasses in one smooth motion. The table erupted in applause and whistles. “Preston and Scarlett, still the perfect match!” someone slurred, their drunken words unfiltered. Preston laughed and gave the man a playful punch on the shoulder. “What nonsense are you talking?” But Scarlett’s smile only widened. After sitting down, she launched into a series of childhood stories, anecdotes that only she and Preston shared. “Preston, remember that time you tried to steal peaches from our orchard and our dog chased you for three blocks? You ran so fast your pants nearly fell off!” “And what about when you fell out of that tree trying to get my kite down? Your arm was in a cast for three months!” “We even made a blood pact as kids, remember? We swore we’d be together forever!” Preston just shook his head, smiling fondly. “That was a lifetime ago. Why bring all that up now?” “Because I miss it,” Scarlett said, propping her chin on her hand, her eyes hazy. “It was so much better back then. Just the two of us. No one else.” The implication hung in the air, thick and suffocating. The table went quiet again. Pitying glances were thrown my way. Seemingly lost in her drunken nostalgia, Scarlett pulled a faded photograph from her purse, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. “Look, Preston. I still have this.” Preston took the photo, his expression softening. “It’s Buddy.” “Yes,” Scarlett’s voice cracked. “My sweet Buddy. I was so heartbroken when he passed.” Someone nearby asked, “Who’s Buddy?” “He was the little dog Preston and I raised together,” Scarlett explained, dabbing the corner of her eye. She then looked directly at me, a clear challenge in her gaze. “He was the cutest puppy. We treated him like our own son. He would call Preston ‘daddy’ and me ‘mommy.’” My heart dropped into my stomach. 2 Preston gently patted her back. “It’s all in the past.” But Scarlett pushed the photograph in front of my face. “Look, Ava. Isn’t Buddy adorable?” My gaze fell on the picture and froze. My blood turned to ice. In the photo, Scarlett was hugging a small white dog. Around the dog’s neck was a small, red, embroidered charm. That charm… A hot rush of fury surged through me. I stared at it, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. It was a good luck charm my grandmother had made for me before she died. Frail and sick, she had painstakingly embroidered it, praying over every stitch for my health and happiness. She’d told me she had little else to leave me, but she could pray for the gods to watch over me always. Two years ago, when Preston got into a car accident on a business trip, I had tearfully pressed the charm into his hand. “My grandmother made this,” I’d cried. “It’s blessed. Please, wear it. It will keep you safe and bring you back to me.” He had been so moved, holding me close and promising he would cherish it forever. A week later, he told me he’d accidentally lost it. I had spent months feeling guilty, apologizing to my grandmother’s memory. And all this time, he had given it to Scarlett’s dog. Scarlett’s voice, laced with pride, cut through my haze. “Buddy was really sick back then, none of the medicine was working. So Preston gave him this charm to wear. Said it would keep him safe.” She paused, then smiled. “And you know what? It actually worked. Buddy got better for a few days after he put it on.” My nails dug deep into my palms. Preston knew what that charm meant to me. He knew how much I adored my grandmother. He knew I had knelt at her grave for an entire afternoon, racked with guilt for losing her final gift. And he had given it to a dog. Sensing the shift in my demeanor, Preston tugged at Scarlett’s wrist. “Don’t talk nonsense.” “Was I wrong?” Scarlett yanked her arm free, her lip curling with disdain. “It was just a charm. And besides, he died in the end anyway.” “So you see,” she said, her taunting gaze fixed on me, “all that good luck stuff is just superstition. Completely useless.” She leaned forward, her eyes sharp. “Don’t you agree, Ava? Anyone who believes in that kind of thing must have something wrong with their head.” CRASH! I shot to my feet, my leg kicking the table with violent force. Plates and glasses slid off the edge, shattering on the floor. Soup and food splattered everywhere. Preston’s first instinct was to shield Scarlett, pulling her behind him. “Ava! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane?” Scarlett peeked out from behind him, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. “Am I insane?” My voice trembled with rage as I pointed at the photograph. “Preston, that was the charm my grandmother gave me! You knew! You knew how much it meant to me! And you gave it to a dog!” Preston flinched, his face darkening. “That was ages ago. What’s the point of dredging up the past now?” “So what if I gave it to Buddy?” he finally snapped, his voice rising with defensive anger. “The charm was just sitting there, and Buddy was dying! I was desperate! Besides, it’s just a stupid little sachet! Is it more important than Scarlett’s dog?” “Yeah, Ava,” Scarlett muttered disdainfully. “It’s just a charm…” “Shut up!” I hissed, my glare locking onto her. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Scarlett’s eyes filled with tears as she shrank back against Preston. That was the last straw for him. “Ava, that’s enough! Scarlett is right, that stuff is just superstition! It was a worthless little charm. It’s gone. Is it really worth all this drama?” Hiding in his arms, Scarlett added with a cold sneer, “I think she’s just looking for a reason to be mad about the ring from earlier.” 3 Ignoring them, I pointed to the door and yelled at the stunned guests. “Everybody, get out.” After the crowd dispersed, I was left alone in the villa, surrounded by the wreckage of the party. Memories of my time with Preston flashed through my mind like a chaotic slideshow. We met while studying abroad. I was caught in the middle of a street protest that had turned violent, and Preston, whom I’d only met a few times, threw himself over me to shield me. A stray piece of shrapnel hit him in the back. He held me tight, his blood soaking my clothes. That scar was still there. “Ava,” he had whispered, “don’t be afraid. I’ve got you.” Later, as he lay in a hospital bed with his back heavily bandaged, I told him through my tears that I would spend my life repaying him for saving me. He had taken my hand, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles, his eyes full of tenderness. “I didn’t save you for a reward, Ava. I saved you because I fell for you the moment I first saw you.” Our love story unfolded naturally from there. Preston treated me like a princess. He’d wait in line in a blizzard for half an hour just to buy me the tiramisu I loved from a little bakery across town. He’d sit with me in silence for hours while I rushed to finish a term paper. My graduation was a year after his, but he turned down a major role in his family’s business back home to stay with me, saying with a smile, “Wherever my girl is, that’s where my home is.” Everything changed when we returned home and I met Scarlett. Preston introduced her as his neighbor, his little sister. They grew up together, and she’d saved him once as a child, so they were extremely close. I didn’t think much of it at first, until I realized their relationship had no boundaries. If Scarlett called in the middle of the night, scared of being alone, Preston would rush over to stay with her. If Scarlett had period cramps, Preston would personally brew her ginger tea. When Scarlett started dating someone, Preston investigated the guy’s entire family history, declared him a bad influence, and forced her to break up with him. When she refused, Preston flew into a rage, locked her in her house, and watched her every move. When I questioned him, his answer was always the same: “Scarlett saved my life. I see her as my sister. I can’t let her throw her life away.” Preston eventually cornered the poor guy outside his office, offered him a check, and told him to disappear from Scarlett’s life. When the guy refused, Preston used his family’s influence to get him fired. Defeated, the guy had no choice but to sign a breakup agreement. Afterward, Preston spent days and nights with Scarlett, taking her out drinking to help her “heal her broken heart.” I once saw Scarlett throw herself into his arms, sobbing. “I don’t care! You’re the one who got rid of my boyfriend, so you have to take care of me forever!” Preston just stroked her hair. “Silly girl. You’re my sister. Who else would I take care of?” His sister. What a convenient little title. I imagined he’d be thrilled when she became his actual sister. My phone buzzed. It was a message from the girlfriend of one of Preston’s friends. It was a video. In the dim, flashing lights of a club, Scarlett, wearing next to nothing, was sitting on Preston’s lap. They were locked in a passionate kiss. Her hand was creeping up under his shirt while the people around them cheered and whistled. The video was only ten seconds long. It was long enough to make my blood run cold. I grabbed my car keys and stormed out of the house. The bass from the bar’s speakers was a physical force, pounding in my chest. On the dance floor, Scarlett, in a black strap top and a tiny skirt, was grinding against Preston, her body plastered to his. Her already revealing outfit left little to the imagination as they moved.

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I had breast cancer. My father, the hospital head, performed the double mastectomy. As the anesthesia faded, I overheard the assistant surgeon: “Dr. Sterling actually did it. Lying to his daughter to appease his ward… Her husband suggested it. Now she just has these bowl-sized scars.” My body shook. Once conscious, I scrambled up to confront them. My husband Damon wrapped an arm around Celeste and smirked. “What’s wrong? You always mocked Celeste for being frail. I guess you’ve learned your lesson.” I staggered forward, but my father shoved me back. “Stop making a scene. Celeste has had a hard life. Losing a bit of flesh is nothing.” Even my son Asher agreed: “He’s right, Mom. The way you look now… step aside for Aunt Celeste.” Then a dormant system woke in my mind: 【Host, your mission was completed long ago! Initiate immediate death and return?】 A relieved smile touched my lips. So this whole “journey of salvation” was a lie. A sick joke. Why should I care if they lived or died? I confirmed instantly. 【Upon death, all characters here will be erased three days after. Returning now. Reward: $700 million and a fully restored, healthy body in your world.】 … The thought of the reward was eclipsed by the sheer, ecstatic joy of finally going home. I stumbled to my feet, awkwardly climbing onto the windowsill. Every movement sent waves of agony through my fresh sutures. I looked out at the glittering skyline of the city, at the thousands of lights twinkling in the night. Not a single one of them was shining for me. The thought spurred me on. A sudden sneer from behind made me turn. It was my son, Asher. “Mom, what are you doing? You should be in bed resting.” He sounded bored. “You’re not some actress in a tragedy. Who are you putting on this ‘to be or not to be’ melodrama for?” “A melodrama? Who’s the one who’s been acting this whole time, lying to my face?” I stared into his eyes, searching for a flicker of remorse. But all I got was cold logic. “It wasn’t a lie. At most, it was a misdiagnosis from Grandpa. You don’t have cancer. You’re not going to die. You can stay with us. Isn’t that a good thing?” Oh. So I was supposed to be grateful that their cruel deception had been exposed? I turned back to the window. The wind whipped my hair around my face. I had climbed onto that operating table to live. Now, I was climbing onto this ledge to die, and in doing so, live again. Without another thought, I leaned forward, ready for the fall. But the exhilarating rush of descent never came. My son had slammed the emergency call button and was now desperately holding onto me. “Mom! What are you doing?! Grab my hand!” “Let go,” I rasped. Veins bulged on Asher’s arms as he gritted his teeth. “No!” “Mom, so you lost a part of yourself? It’s not a big deal! Dad said he’ll never be disgusted by you, no matter what you look like.” I was so tired of hearing those empty words. I thrashed my arms, trying to shake him loose. His eyes reddened, and his voice cracked with tears. “Can you really just leave me and die?” I looked up at the boy I had raised. The terror in his eyes looked so real, as if he truly couldn’t live without me. I gave him a sharp tug, my gaze turning to ice. “If you can’t bear to let me go, then come with me.” I pulled harder, twisting my body so he was dragged off balance. The color drained from his face, and his grip slackened in pure fear. I knew he was terrified. I felt my body begin to slip downwards. Just as I thought I was finally free, a powerful force yanked me back. Security guards and nurses had arrived, swarming around me. Damn it. I was so close. Hauled back from the brink, I lay limply on the bed. Asher was sobbing, completely terrified. Before I could process anything, Damon burst into the room. He pushed through the crowd and stormed over to me. SMACK! The force of the slap snapped my head to the side. The violent movement tore at my wounds, and I felt fresh blood seep through the bandages. “Are you fucking insane?” he roared, his eyes bloodshot. He grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Asher is our son! Our own flesh and blood! And you were going to drag him down with you just to make a point?” “Aria, when is this going to end? Do you even have a heart?” The words caught in my throat, but a cold laugh escaped my lips. Was I the heartless one? Who lied to me about having cancer? Who put me through chemotherapy when I wasn’t sick? Who used the pretense of treatment to mutilate my body, all to get a smile from Celeste? But I was done explaining. Seeing my silence, Damon’s patience snapped. He grabbed my arm and started dragging me out of the room. “If you don’t want to be in the hospital, then you can come home with me!” I let him drag me to the car like a doll, my mind fixated on a single thought. I had to find another chance to escape this world. The city lights blurred past the car window. The world was so full of life, yet none of it felt like it was for me. The car turned onto a deserted mountain road. This was my chance. I lunged for the door handle. “You’re asking to die!” Damon snarled, yanking the wheel hard to the right. The car screeched, carving a dangerous arc across the road. I threw all my weight against the door, and it flew open, letting in a blast of icy wind. With what little strength I had left, I threw myself out. Just as I was about to tumble out, Damon unbuckled his seatbelt, abandoning the wheel to slam his body against mine, pinning me inside. The car was completely out of control. It smashed into the mountainside guardrail with a deafening crash. The impact threw us violently against the car’s interior. Damon’s forehead was split open, and blood streamed down his handsome face. He was breathing heavily, his eyes dark and menacing as he stared at me. “You want to die that badly?” I met his gaze, my answer firm. “Yes.” He was about to explode with rage when the sharp, acrid smell of gasoline filled the air. Damon’s face changed. “Damn it!” he cursed. Ignoring the blood pouring from his head, he fought to pull me from the twisted wreckage of my seat. I had no will to live left. In fact, I hoped the fire would come faster. “Just go,” I told him. “Leave me.” He acted as if he hadn’t heard me. He brutally bent the metal trapping me, then scooped me into his arms, holding me tight. The moment we were clear, a deafening explosion ripped through the night. A roaring inferno instantly consumed the expensive sports car. The heat washed over us, and he shielded me with his body, his eyes red-rimmed and furious. “Aria, I’ll say this one more time,” he growled, his voice a low threat. “I decide when you die. Not you.” The scene was eerily familiar. Years ago, we were trapped in a warehouse during a shootout with a rival gang. He had protected me just like this, whispering, “Don’t be afraid, Aria. As long as I’m here, you won’t lose a single hair on your head.” For those words, I had stood by him through everything. I fought beside him through blood and fire, even using my family’s influence—the Sterling family’s power—to secure his position as the undisputed king of the city’s underworld. But now, the same protective gesture felt like nothing but a bitter mockery. I don’t remember how I got back to the villa. As soon as we walked in, a wave of cozy, domestic warmth hit me, making me feel like an intruder. Celeste was carefully blowing on a bowl of soup. My father, Arthur Sterling, hovered behind her, his eyes full of doting concern. “Careful now, Celeste. Don’t burn yourself.” When they saw us, and especially the gash on Damon’s forehead, Celeste gasped and rushed over. “Damon, you’re hurt! What happened?” Her eyes flickered to me, to the flat expanse of my chest, and her look of concern shifted to one of pity. “Was it because of Aria? Don’t blame her. She’s probably just having a hard time accepting her… condition. We should be more supportive.” I snapped. I strode forward and slapped her across the face. “Shut up! What right do you have to stand there and play the saint?” Celeste clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. In the same instant, Arthur lunged forward, pushing me to the ground as he shielded her. “That’s enough!” he roared. “Look at you! You have none of the grace of a Sterling. We spoiled you, let you run wild and bully Celeste! This surgery was meant to teach you a lesson, and here you are, threatening to kill yourself over it!” I looked up at the man who had once adored me, my voice shaking with rage. “Is that why? Is that why you lied to me, told me I had a terminal illness, and let them turn me into this?” He didn’t answer. I couldn’t tell if it was out of guilt or because he felt utterly justified. When I first entered this world, Arthur Sterling had just lost his wife. As a man who had married into the powerful Sterling family, he was being crushed by internal politics. The system, driven by the original Aria’s desperate wish, had sent me to save him. For a long time, we saved each other. I had even decided to abandon my mission and stay. But ever since Celeste, a poor student I was sponsoring, appeared, everyone around me began to turn. A simple word of concern for her was twisted into an act of mockery. They were willing to tear me to pieces just to defend her honor. A bitter laugh escaped me. I grabbed a fruit knife from the coffee table… but I failed again. Damon was too fast. He kicked the knife out of my hand. “Aria, you’re getting addicted to this, aren’t you? Threatening to die every chance you get?” His voice was ice. “I, Damon, swear this to you: as long as you behave and leave Celeste alone, you will always be Mrs. Blackwood, no matter how much of a monster you look like.” I collapsed onto the floor, my voice flat and empty. “But I don’t want to be.”

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The day Willow Cheng was crowned Best Actress, I threw a lavish party to celebrate her victory. She poisoned the wine, ensuring we would die together. As the life drained from me, her eyes burned with a raw, blistering hatred. “Why did you have to adopt me? My real mother, my rich, high-society mother, she came for me that day.” “You vile woman. If it weren’t for you, we would have been reunited. I wouldn’t have had to struggle for so long.” “If I could go back twenty years,” she hissed, her voice a venomous whisper, “I would pray that you never came for me at all.” I died in a haze of confusion and righteous fury. When I opened my eyes again, I was twenty years in the past. This time, I decided to grant Willow’s wish. I would not adopt her. What she didn’t know, what she could never have known, was that her birth parents were already dead. … The searing pain in my stomach still felt terrifyingly real. But then, a familiar voice cut through the fog. “Ms. Hayes, you see? This is Willow. She’s the brightest child in the whole orphanage.” My eyes flew open. I wasn’t staring at the sterile white walls of a psychiatric ward. I was in the slightly damp, musty office of the orphanage. Standing across from me was the beaming director. And huddled in the corner was a small, seven-year-old girl. Clothes washed thin and pale, a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Willow. I had truly gone back twenty years. Back to the very day I had chosen to adopt her. Before the shock of rebirth could fully register, the small figure moved. This time, she didn’t timidly clutch at my clothes, her eyes filled with a desperate hope that I would take her home. Instead, she stared at me, her eyes churning with a venomous loathing that was horrifying in a child so young. It was as if she wasn’t looking at the woman who was about to change her life, but at a sworn enemy. “I’m not going with her!” Willow’s shriek was sharp and sudden. She scrambled backward until her back hit the peeling paint of the wall. She pointed a trembling finger at me, her voice shrill with rejection. “You evil woman! Get away from me! I’d rather die than be adopted by you!” “I want my real parents to come for me!” The director’s smile froze on her face. The hand she had extended to pat Willow’s head hung awkwardly in mid-air. “Willow! What on earth are you saying?” the director stammered, sweat beading on her forehead. She turned to me, flustered. “Ms. Hayes, please don’t mind her. She’s usually such a well-behaved child. Maybe… maybe she’s not feeling well today. She’s just talking nonsense.” “I’m not sick!” Willow snapped, her gaze like a poisoned dart. “I know exactly what I’m saying. I hate her! I don’t want to go with her!” I watched her, the way she looked at me as if I were a predator, and the last embers of warmth in my heart turned to ash. Her dying words from our previous life echoed in my mind: If I could go back twenty years, I would pray that you never came for me at all. So, she had been reborn too. Fine. If the feeling was mutual, it would save me the trouble of trying to rid myself of this ungrateful viper. I smoothed down my dress, my expression a cool mask of indifference as I watched the little drama unfold. “If the child is unwilling,” I said, my voice light, devoid of any attachment, “then let’s just forget it.” The director’s face fell. “Ms. Hayes, she’s a very talented girl. Please, reconsider…” “There’s no need,” I cut her off, my gaze sweeping one last time over the wary child. “You can’t force a thing to grow where it doesn’t want to. And I have no interest in raising a wolf that will one day bite the hand that feeds it.” At my words, Willow didn’t look disappointed. A wave of relief washed over her, and her face lit up with a triumphant, manic glee. Looking at her foolish expression, I couldn’t help but find it amusing. In our last life, in this very room, she had been a filthy, sobbing mess, clinging to my legs and begging me to take her away. “Please, auntie,” she’d cried, “take me with you. I’ll be good. I’ll repay you for the rest of my life.” I had pitied her, an orphan with no one in the world. I took her home and raised her as my own. I wasn’t rich, but I worked three jobs to send her to the best acting schools, to help her chase her dream of becoming a star. And what was my reward? Twenty years of devotion meant nothing to her. She believed I was the one who had kept her from her wealthy birth parents. The very first thing she did after achieving her dream was to murder us both. This time, I was morbidly curious to see how two piles of bones were going to come and take her home. After leaving the director’s office, I didn’t leave the orphanage right away. I slipped into the shadows at the end of the hallway, watching the entrance through a grimy window. Before long, a black sedan, not particularly expensive, pulled up to the gate. The driver revved the engine unnecessarily, as if desperate to be noticed. The door opened, and a woman stepped out. Her hair was a mess of permed curls, and she was dripping with cheap, flashy jewelry. She looked like she’d just won the lottery, but I recognized the woman beneath the gaudy exterior. Brenda, a woman from my old hometown. In the last life, Brenda had moved away shortly after I brought Willow home. I never imagined that a brief, fleeting encounter could have left such a deep, twisted impression on Willow’s mind for two decades. But one thing I knew for sure: there was no way Brenda was Willow’s birth mother. Willow, however, saw her as a savior. She scrambled down the steps, her face plastered with the same practiced, red-carpet smile she’d worn in her past life. She threw herself at Brenda. “Mom! I knew you’d come for me!” she wailed. “I’m your daughter, the one you left at this orphanage!” Brenda stumbled back, startled. She looked down at the grimy child clinging to her and her face twisted in disgust. She shoved Willow away, brushing at imaginary dust on her clothes. “What’s wrong with you, you little psycho? You’re filthy! Get away from me!” Willow fell to the ground, but she didn’t seem to feel the pain. She was panicking. This wasn’t how the grand family reunion was supposed to go. She grabbed onto Brenda’s leg, her voice cracking. “Mom, I’m not dirty! I’ll be good! If you take me with you, I’ll do anything! I can do laundry, I can cook! I’ll be so obedient!” “Please, don’t leave me here!” At the words “do anything,” Brenda paused. She looked down at Willow again, her eyes cold and assessing, like a farmer inspecting livestock. “You do look like a clever one,” she mused. “And I could use an extra pair of hands around the house.” Brenda sneered, nudging Willow with the toe of her shoe. “Fine. It’s your lucky day. Come on.” Willow was ecstatic. She nodded frantically and scrambled into the “luxury” car without so much as a goodbye to the director. Watching from the shadows, I almost laughed out loud. I didn’t know how Willow had gotten it into her head that Brenda was her mother. But I knew one thing for sure: this life was going to be very, very different for her. Once the car was gone, I turned and left. On my way home, I passed a bank. I took out the card I had prepared, the one that was supposed to pay for Willow’s private school tuition and acting classes. In the last life, I had scrimped and saved, sacrificing my own dreams to make hers come true. I had loved to sing. I had a good voice. But Willow always complained that my practicing disturbed her when she was trying to memorize her lines. For her, I had silenced my own voice. For twenty years. This time, without a moment’s hesitation, I walked into the best vocal training center in the city. I swiped the card, signed the forms, and looked at my own name on the receipt. I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt in years. This life, to hell with selfless devotion. I was going to live for myself. The days that followed were a blur of happy, fulfilling activity. I practiced my singing, took care of my skin, and simply enjoyed life. Then, one rainy night about two weeks later, a frantic, violent pounding on my door shattered the peace. I opened it to find Brenda standing there, soaked to the bone, her face a mask of fury. At her feet, tossed like a bag of garbage, was a small, crumpled figure. It was Willow. Her face was flushed, her breathing shallow. She was burning up, and her small body was covered in angry, purple bruises. Brenda saw me and scowled. She pointed at the child on the ground. “The director told me you wanted to adopt this worthless thing. Take her! She’s been running a fever for days. If she dies in my house, it’ll bring bad luck.” “The little brat keeps babbling about not wanting to die. So, if you want to play the saint, she’s all yours.” I didn’t even glance at Willow. I took a deliberate step back, my disgust evident. “Brenda, I did consider adopting her. But as she made perfectly clear, she would rather die than have me as her mother.” I crossed my arms, a small, mocking smile playing on my lips. “Besides, since she has accepted you as her mother, this is a family matter. Whether she lives or dies in your house is none of my concern.” Brenda was speechless, her face turning shades of red and white. She raised her foot to kick the child on the ground. “You hear that, you little bitch? Nobody wants you!” But then, Willow, delirious with fever, found a sudden burst of strength. She wrapped her arms around Brenda’s muddy leg. Her lips were cracked and dry, her voice a hoarse rasp, but there was a strange, feverish intensity in her words. “Mom… don’t leave me… don’t give me to that evil woman…” “I’ll be famous… I’m going to be an award-winning actress… I’ll make so much money for you… buy you a big house…” Even in this state, she was still clinging to her delusions of grandeur. Brenda was furious. She kicked Willow away. “Actress? You’re delirious! You’ve fried your brain!” “You’re nothing but a drain on my resources!” But for all her blustering, Brenda didn’t dare actually kill the child. We were still neighbors, for now. If something happened, the police would come knocking. Muttering curses under her breath, she grabbed Willow by the collar and dragged her out into the rain like a dead dog. “I’ll take you to some back-alley clinic and get you a drip. If you don’t get better after that, you can just rot for all I care!” The sound of Willow’s faint pleas and Brenda’s harsh curses faded into the night. I watched them go, my face a cold, blank slate. Then I closed the door and went back to my singing practice. Willow, it turned out, was a survivor. After three days of a raging fever, dumped in a shady, unlicensed clinic with a cocktail of unknown drugs pumped into her veins, she somehow pulled through. But fate, while sparing her life, had collected its due. The prolonged fever had damaged her throat and her nerves. She was left with a permanent lisp and slurred speech. Forget being an actress; she could barely hold a normal conversation. A few weeks later, Brenda, either on the run from debt collectors or having found a new get-rich-quick scheme, packed up and prepared to leave town. On the day they were leaving, Willow came to see me. She was wearing some tattered old clothes she must have found somewhere, but she held her head high, like a defeated but defiant rooster.

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At my adoptive sister’s celebration party, a post caught my eye. “What’s it like to pull a god down from his pedestal?” A comment with ten thousand likes was pinned to the top. “The god I pulled down was my adoptive sister’s boyfriend of ten years.” “The moment I entered their home, I was drawn to his aloof, untouchable aura. I played the part of the temptress from a novel, and with a flick of my finger, he was mine.” “He was always so righteous, so principled. But for me, he secretly changed my exam scores. For me, he waived the entrance test to his top-tier law firm. For me, he became my private tutor, preparing me for the bar exam.” “And my dear sister? She spent five miserable years choking down instant noodles in a cramped study room and still couldn’t pass.” The replies were a chorus of condemnation. “Have you no shame? What about your adoptive parents?” She quickly posted a photo from the party. There I was, in the corner, bloated and puffy from a diet of cheap ramen. My hair, a dry, frizzy mess, framed a face of dull resignation. “What makes you think…” she added, her words dripping with condescension, “that they don’t know?” “My parents were worried I’d be too stressed. So, to make sure I had company, they’d drug my food before every exam. I’d fall asleep during the test and think it was my own weakness.” “But now that I’ve passed, I’ll be merciful. I’ll ask them to stop.” … My hand, clutching the phone, began to tremble. I looked up and saw my adoptive sister, Chloe, gesturing wildly, a triumphant look on her face. And next to her, my boyfriend, Damien, listened intently, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never seen directed at me. I walked over and shoved the phone in his face. “Is this true?” I asked, my voice a raw whisper. His eyes scanned the screen, and his pupils dilated for a fraction of a second. His silence was my answer. “Why?” My voice was sharp with rage. “Damien, you knew how badly I wanted to get into Sterling & Vance! It was my dream to stand in the same courtroom as you, to fight by your side! I worked so hard for so many years…” He finally spoke. “But you’re my girlfriend.” “Audrey, everyone knows about us. There was only one spot this year. If you got in, what would people think? They’d say I pulled strings for you. How would that look for either of us?” “You’re a law student. You should understand the need to avoid the appearance of impropriety.” “Impropriety?” A bitter laugh escaped me, but tears were already streaming down my face. “My final year of university, I interviewed for an internship at your firm. You were so afraid of being accused of nepotism that you tore up my resume in front of everyone and threw it in the trash. You belittled my accomplishments, made me feel worthless.” “But I was top of my class for four years! I won every national scholarship available! I earned my place in grad school, published papers in prestigious journals! What did I have to be afraid of?” “But her!” I spun around and pointed at Chloe. “She failed her exams every year! In moot court, she couldn’t even handle a basic cross-examination! But for her, you threw your principles out the window. You changed her scores, opened doors for her, coddled her, taught her everything yourself! Damien, were your principles designed specifically to be used against me?” Chloe shrank behind him, a picture of innocence. “Audrey! What are you doing, yelling at your sister like that?” A roar from behind me, and then a hand grabbed my arm, yanking me away. My mother rushed to Chloe’s side, wrapping her in a protective embrace. “It’s okay, Chloe, Mommy’s here. This is your special day. Don’t cry.” She wiped Chloe’s tears, then shot me a look of pure disappointment. “Audrey, are you here just to cause trouble? Can’t you let your sister have one happy moment? Why do you have to humiliate her in front of everyone?” “I humiliated her?” My voice was hoarse with disbelief. “You… you didn’t even ask what happened. You just saw her crying and assumed I was the one bullying her, right?” My father waved his hand dismissively. “What else could it be? Your sister has always been a sweet, gentle girl. It must be you, acting out again.” I sighed, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I looked straight at him. “Dad, before every exam, Mom would bring me a special scallion pancake. She said it was a taste of home, for good luck. Was there something else in those pancakes?” The anger on my father’s face froze. He looked away, unable to meet my eyes. My mother, still holding Chloe, went rigid, her face turning a ghastly white. So it was true… Tears rolled down my cheeks. “And I thought… I thought it was me. That I was weak, that I wasn’t good enough…” My mother suddenly broke down. She tried to grab my hand, but I pulled away. “Audrey, we didn’t want to!” she sobbed. “But Chloe… she’s so sensitive, not strong like you… If she failed and you passed, what if she did something drastic? I promise, next year, we won’t put anything in your food…” Damien’s voice, now soft and placating, chimed in. “She’s right. If it means that much to you, I can help you study next year. It’s just one more year. You have a strong foundation. You can do it.” “‘Just one more year’?” “I’m twenty-nine! I’ve been trying to pass this exam since I was twenty-four! Five years! The best, most valuable five years of my career, all wasted in a cold study room with moldy instant noodles! I slept four hours a night, studied until I threw up, my hands were covered in chilblains…” “Do you know what it’s like to watch people years younger than you walk past with their law licenses? I thought I was stupid, that I wasn’t working hard enough, that I was mentally weak! I doubted myself, broke down in tears, then forced myself to get up and keep going!” “And now you’re telling me that none of it had to happen?” “My five years… do they mean so little to you?” The dam of my pent-up grief and frustration finally burst. My whole body was shaking. “Audrey! Let me explain…” “We… we…” My mother was crying too, unable to form a coherent sentence. She knew. She knew what they had done. I had had enough. I turned to leave, but my father’s voice, sharp with anger, stopped me. “You stop right there! If you walk out that door today, I’ll disown you!” I turned back slowly, my face numb. “The day you started drugging me, I stopped being your daughter.” I walked out and didn’t look back. I stopped studying and started looking for a job. I thought my university transcripts, my published papers, my awards, would mean something. I was wrong. Twenty-nine years old. Female. No work experience. No law license. Each one a fatal blow. I was less valuable than the office printer. Then, I saw another post from Chloe. A nine-photo grid from the party. Everyone was smiling. As if nothing had happened. A message from Damien popped up. “Audrey, I’ve given Chloe a new case. She’s still inexperienced, and there’s a lot of paperwork. You could come and help with the filing, some basic tasks. It would be good practical experience for you. Once we win the case, I can bring you in as an intern. It would be a legitimate way in.” The condescending, charitable tone of his message made me sick. Did he really think I would come crawling back, tail between my legs, for this insulting scrap of a chance? At the same time, another message appeared, from an unknown number. It was short. “Interested in a collaboration?” At the pre-trial meeting a few days later, my presence didn’t seem to surprise Damien. He was still the same arrogant, self-assured man. “So you’ve come to your senses. Good. Pay attention. You’ll be taking the minutes for Chloe. It’s a great learning opportunity for you.” I met his gaze and sat down across from him. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Thorne.” His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” “Because today, I am the lead counsel for the plaintiff.” The air in the room went still. Damien was the first to break the silence, with a short, sharp laugh. “What nonsense are you talking about? You don’t even have a law license. What firm would hire you? Who would be foolish enough to take that risk?” Just then, the conference room door opened again. A man walked in and sat down beside me. “Hans Vance!” Chloe gasped. The color drained from Damien’s face. “You went to him? Do you have any idea who he is?” Of course I knew. Hans Vance was Damien’s fiercest rival. His reputation was… mixed. Some said he was ruthless, that he would do anything to win. Others said he was brilliant, a master strategist who took on the cases no one else would touch. Most importantly, he and Damien were sworn enemies. I met Damien’s furious gaze, my own voice calm. “Damien, when I needed a chance, when I needed a platform to prove myself, you were the one who pushed me away, time and time again, to ‘avoid impropriety.’” “I lost five years of my life. No firm would even look at me. When I had nowhere else to turn, he was the one who gave me a chance, who believed in my abilities. As for what kind of person he is…” “I don’t care.” “You!” Damien looked like he was about to choke. “I was trying to help you! After this case, I was going to get you into Sterling & Vance, let you start from the bottom…” “Ha!” I cut him off. “Mr. Thorne, you were going to pull strings for me? Bend the rules? I couldn’t possibly let you do that.” He was speechless. Hans tapped the table. “If you two are quite finished, perhaps we could discuss the case?” Damien’s chest heaved with suppressed rage. He shot me one last venomous look and sat down. Hours later, he and Chloe left the meeting with thunderous expressions. Hans turned to me. “So? How did it go?” I let out a long breath, my tense muscles finally relaxing. “She’s no match for me.” He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “It seems my investment was a wise one.”

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The day the Lockwood family’s men found Nathaniel, I was out back with him, chasing chickens through the mud on our farm. They told me he was Nathaniel Lockwood, the heir to a billion-dollar fortune, missing for five years. “This is for your trouble over the past five years,” one of them said, offering me a sleek black card. “The Lockwood family hopes you’ll accept it.” I knew what it really was: hush money. A check to buy my silence and erase me from his life. Nate’s eyes went red-rimmed, his fingers twisting in the fabric of my sleeve. He looked utterly wrecked. “I’ll go back,” he choked out, his voice thick with unshed tears, “but only if she comes with me!” As the men in suits exchanged uneasy glances, I wiped the chicken shit from my hands onto my jeans and reached for the card, right in front of him. “Nate, you should go back on your own.” I looked him straight in the eye, my voice steady. “I’m used to the quiet life here. The city… it’s too loud, too much. It’s not for me.” Oh, Nate. It’s not that I wouldn’t have gone with you. It’s just that in my last life, my death was too brutal. This time, I’ve learned my lesson. 1 The December wind cut through my coat, damp and icy. Nate clung to my sleeve, his eyes glistening. “Willow… are you throwing me away?” The same words, the same heartbroken gaze as the last time. But this time, my heart wouldn’t soften. I looked past him, at the dark cluster of men standing on the ridge, and slowly, deliberately, pried his fingers from my arm. “Nate, you never belonged here.” My voice was cold, a stranger’s voice. “Have you forgotten? You were just a stray I found by the side of the road.” The moment the words left my mouth, the moisture in his eyes burned into a raw, crimson agony. That was the one thing he could never bear to hear. When I first found him, he could barely form a sentence. He didn’t know his name, where he was from—all he could do was shake his head, his eyes wide with fear. I had no choice but to take him in. Some of the crueler kids in the village nicknamed him “Scamp,” calling him the puppy that followed at my heels. Nate hated it, but there was no stopping their taunts. “It doesn’t matter what they call you, Nate,” I’d told him, echoing the words my late grandfather had taught me. “Their words don’t define you. We know the truth.” I passed that wisdom on to him. And now, I was the one using it as a weapon against him. “Willow, are five years of our life together really worth so little?” His voice trembled as he spoke. In my past life, I thought the same thing. I thought five years of love and hardship couldn’t be bought. So, even knowing the Lockwood family would scrutinize and despise me, I had wanted to stand by his side and face it all with him. “People die without money, Nate. But life is a lot simpler without love,” I said, the words tasting like ash. “You, of all people, should know how important money is after the five years we’ve had. This card… this can give my grandmother and me a life without worry.” I had no desire to drag this out. I looked past him and called out to the men. “What are you waiting for? Do you expect Mr. Lockwood to walk to the car himself?” That detached, callous remark was the final straw. Nate snapped. He snatched the card from my hand, and with a guttural cry, broke it in two, hurling the pieces into a muddy puddle. “I’m not leaving, Willow!” he yelled, wrapping his arms around me in a desperate, suffocating embrace. “I just want to be with you! I promised Grandma I’d take care of you. You said we’d have a son and a daughter, that we’d save up and buy a house in town!” “I can give you the best life now! Why are you doing this? Why have you changed?” Over five years, his dependence on me had become instinctual. He thought he couldn’t live without me. That was only because he didn’t remember. He didn’t remember the fiancée he’d left behind in the city. A fiancée who had been waiting for him for five long years. If he’d known, he never would have chosen to take me with him in the first place. “Stop it, Nate. Don’t be a child.” I pushed against his chest. “It was just a game. Like kids playing house. Did you really take it seriously?” The arms holding me fell away. “You’re heartless, Willow.” His accusation was choked with tears, as if I were the villain, the one who deserved to be condemned. But you don’t understand, Nate. In my last life, I truly believed we could have a happy ending. It wasn’t until you remembered the woman you truly loved that I realized how utterly foolish I had been. The moment Grandma and I died, alone and forgotten in a foreign city, I swore that if I ever got a second chance, I would never, ever follow you back to Crestfall. News that Nate was the son of a billionaire spread through our poor, remote village like wildfire. Soon, our yard was filled with neighbors, their faces plastered with sycophantic smiles, all eager to witness the spectacle. “Willow, you’ve really hit the jackpot! Don’t you forget about us folks back home when you’re living the high life!” “That’s right! I hear he’s their only son. You’re going to be set for life, married into high society!” “I always said that Nate boy looked different from the rest of us! See? I knew he had good breeding!” The chatter was a dizzying, opportunistic hum. I ignored them, walking over to the water pump to wash the grime from my hands and face. “Everyone go home,” I said, my voice flat. “He’s already gone.” I knew why they were here. They were hoping for a handout, a crumb from the billionaire’s table. Even the dust shaken from a rich man’s coat could feed a normal family for a year. A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd as they wondered why I hadn’t gone with him. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. I shut the front door, closing them out. “Willow…” Grandma’s frail voice called from the bedroom. I rushed to her side. Seeing her there—my grandmother who had frozen to death on the Lockwood family’s doorstep in my past life—a tear escaped and traced a path down my cheek. “My dear child, why are you crying?” she asked, her voice soft with concern. “Was it Nate? Did he not want to take you with him?” I shook my head. “Then tell your grandma what’s wrong. I’ll sort it out for you.” Again, I shook my head, then collapsed into her arms, burying my face in her familiar, worn sweater. “Grandma,” I sobbed, “I was the one who didn’t want to go. I want to stay here with you forever.” She stroked my hair, her touch a comforting balm as she held me close. “Silly child…” The lullaby she hummed was a sweet, gentle melody that carried me into a deep sleep. But my dreams were a prison, replaying the past I could never escape. The first day I followed Nate to Crestfall, I stood before the opulent Lockwood estate clutching the gifts Grandma had lovingly prepared: homemade preserves, smoked meats, and dried herbs from our garden. In that moment, I understood what it meant to be utterly out of place. I was a weed in a rose garden. I clung to Nate’s arm as if he were my only lifeline. He squeezed my hand gently. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered with a smile. “I’m here.” Those were the words I used to say to him. When I first found him, he was covered in injuries, his right knee mangled so badly he walked with a permanent limp. He was constantly mocked and bullied for it. I was the one who stood in front of him, who fought his battles for him, who told him, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Grandma and I had worked ourselves to the bone to pay for his surgeries, to buy him the best physical therapy equipment. He would always watch us with tears in his eyes, promising to repay us one day, promising that when he was healed, he would be the one to provide for us. He kept that promise. But he broke so many others. “You must be Willow?” The question came from Nate’s mother, Eleanor. She had to be fifty, but there wasn’t a single line on her face that betrayed her age. She was a world away from the weathered, tired-looking women of our village. I nodded timidly. The plush carpet felt like it was woven with needles, pricking the soles of my feet with every step. “My grandmother asked me to bring these for you…” I knelt and, just as Grandma had instructed, began to arrange the items on the floor. Nate bent down to help, passing each jar and bundle to his family. When I looked up, I saw the same expression on every face: disgust. They covered their mouths, their brows furrowed, as if I’d brought something foul into their pristine home. My heart sank into a cold, dark pit. Seeing their reaction, Nate’s face hardened. “Someone take these!” he barked. No one dared to defy the sole heir of the Lockwood fortune. In an instant, several servants scurried forward and whisked my offerings away. Nate pulled me to my feet, his expression grimly resolute as he made his announcement to the silent room. “This is my girlfriend, Willow.” “She is my future wife. If you cannot accept her, then you cannot accept me.” The vast living room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The air was thick with a dreadful, suffocating tension. Then, a soft sob broke the silence. The crowd parted, creating a path. I followed the sound and saw her. A woman in a white dress, her beautiful face streaked with tears, staring at Nate and me. “Nathaniel,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You say she’s your future wife.” “Then what am I?” The first time I saw Seraphina, I didn’t know a woman could be so exquisitely beautiful. She looked like a movie star who’d stepped off the silver screen, radiant and untouchable. It was also then that I learned they were childhood sweethearts, two halves of a whole, torn apart by fate. Even with Nate gone for five years, presumed dead, she had waited. “Nathaniel, I waited for you for five years. Do you have any idea what that was like?” “How could you forget me?” “How could you fall in love with… with a woman like her?” Instinctively, Nate’s hand slipped from mine. For the first time, I saw true conflict cloud his face. Nate set me up in a beautiful townhouse just down the street from the Lockwood estate. That night, he held me tight, his whispers filled with promises for our future. “Willow, this will be our home now. Don’t worry, I’ll make everything right. I’ll give you the life you deserve.” “I told you, you’re the only one I’ll ever marry.” His words were an anchor, steadying my frantic heart. Nate hadn’t regained his memories, but he slipped back into the world of business as if he’d never left. He was consumed by work, and I barely heard him mention Seraphina’s name again. Worried I’d be lonely, he brought my grandmother to the city to live with us. Every day, Grandma and I would cook his favorite meals. He would come home, exhausted but smiling, and his face would light up with a look of pure contentment. After dinner, we’d go up to the rooftop terrace to watch the sunset. Back home, we used to sit on the hill behind the farm and watch the sky burn. He’d promised we would watch a lifetime of sunsets together. Those first few months were the happiest of my life. We no longer had to scrape by, no longer worried about money. We were living the life we had only dreamed of. But then Nate’s work became more demanding. Days, and then a week, would pass without us seeing him. When he did stop by, it was only for a fleeting moment before he was gone again. The sunsets became a solitary affair. I would sit on that rooftop long after dark, but he never came to watch one with me again. Then came his birthday. He said he was taking me back to the estate. Once again, I found myself stepping into that intimidatingly large house, squeezed into an uncomfortable evening gown, surrounded by judgmental eyes. I gripped Nate’s arm, but this time, he didn’t whisper, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” He said, “I’m just going upstairs to change. Wait for me here.” I wanted to go with him, but he was gone before I could say a word. The next second, I saw Seraphina gliding towards me. “Did you know Nate is undergoing memory recovery therapy?” she said, a cruel little smile playing on her lips. “He’s very close to remembering me.” A sharp ringing filled my ears, and in that instant, something inside me snapped. A sudden, violent shove sent me sprawling to the floor. Tangled in the dress and heels, I struggled to get up. Seraphina’s stiletto heel ground into the back of my hand, a sharp, searing pain that felt like it would pierce straight through the bone. “Ah—” My cry was swallowed by the swelling music and the din of the party. I lay there, helpless on the floor, and watched as a handsomely dressed Nate emerged from the crowd. “Nathaniel!” Seraphina smiled, waving him over. She took his arm, and as a thunderous applause erupted, they began to dance. One song bled into the next, and they moved together like they were the only two people in the world. A perfect match.

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After my parents died, I was the baggage everyone pushed away. My aunt, Vanessa, rushed back from overseas, saw me living in a doghouse, skinny and dirty. She hugged me with tears in her eyes and promised to adopt me. I followed Aunt Vanessa home, wore new clothes, and slept in a clean, warm bed. I was grateful and swore to repay her when I grew up. Until my 18th birthday, I discovered the truth. Aunt Vanessa only adopted me for my parents’ massive inheritance. While I was grieving, I heard an even more shocking secret. Aunt Vanessa’s favorite daughter, Scarlett, was the fake heiress, switched at birth. I was Aunt Vanessa’s biological daughter. Scarlett felt guilty for stealing my life. She left without a word but died in a car accident. Aunt Vanessa cursed me: “I should have strangled you at birth! You jinx! You killed Scarlett!” My biological brother, Julian, sent me to a remote Cliffside Manor and ordered everyone to ignore me. He said coldly: “Scarlett died alone. This is your karma.” Three years in the manor, I went insane. Finally, hallucinating, I stepped off the edge of the roof. Opening my eyes, I was kneeling before my grandmother’s memorial. The lawyer said Aunt Vanessa wanted to adopt me. Pale-faced, I suddenly spoke. “I won’t go with her.” Chapter 1 The whispers in the funeral hall vanished instantly. Aunt Vanessa turned her head sharply, looking at me in disbelief. “What did you say?” My grandmother’s lawyer remained calm. He smoothed things over with Vanessa and took me to a quiet corner. He squatted down, asking patiently. “Jade, can you tell me why?” I looked down at my toes. In my past life, for the sake of the inheritance, Vanessa didn’t treat me badly. Once we bonded, the family treated me like their own. We lived noisily but happily until I was eighteen. Until the truth exploded, and Scarlett died. Everything changed. Vanessa hated me to the bone. My biological brother, Julian Vance, looked at me with disgust. After Scarlett’s funeral, he pulled me out of school. He sent me to the Cliffside Manor, a place with nothing but birds. The servants were like robots, ignoring my existence. Whether I cried, screamed, or smashed things. They had no reaction. In those three years, I was driven mad. Thinking of the pain of falling, I shivered. Since I wouldn’t speak, the lawyer tried to reason with me in a way a child would understand. “You are a minor. You need a guardian. Vanessa is your closest relative, and she doesn’t need your money.” “If you go with other relatives, they might fight over your parents’ inheritance later.” I went silent. Looking up, other relatives were peeking at me from behind the curtains. Meeting my eyes, they flashed fake smiles. An ignorant child with a huge inheritance was a piece of fat meat without an owner. I finally compromised. In the car, Vanessa held a grudge. “Sit in the front. You smell. Don’t dirty my back seat.” I looked at my clothes. Clean, neat, not a speck of mud. Wordless, I climbed into the passenger seat, curling my legs carefully. Chapter 2 I was adopted by the Vance family, just like in my past life. Materially, I wasn’t mistreated. But emotionally, I was ignored. After a while, seeing I was well-behaved, Vanessa’s attitude softened. Scarlett was lively and fearless. I wanted to avoid this family, so I stayed away. But every morning, little six-year-old Scarlett banged on my door. Screaming like a monkey. “Jade! Wake up! Let’s go play!” I rolled over, covering my ears in pain. Silence. Five minutes later, thump thump thump on the window. I got up with messy hair, full of resentment. I saw Scarlett standing on a ladder, grinning at me. Below were terrified nannies. I opened the window, trying to scare her off with coldness: “Human interaction requires boundaries. We aren’t close. You crossed the line.” Scarlett, the social butterfly, was only six. Her brain was empty. She didn’t understand, so she replied with nonsense seriously. “What? We are eating steak today? But if it’s not cooked, we’ll get a tummy ache.” I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to tell her to get down, someone shouted from the gate. “Scarlett!” A figure ran over, face pale seeing Scarlett so high up. Julian Vance held the ladder carefully and carried Scarlett down. He checked her frantically for injuries. Then he looked at me coldly. “This is the Vance house. You are an outsider. How dare you bully her?” Scarlett scratched him anxiously. “No! She didn’t bully me! I came to play with her!” Julian paused. The nanny explained it was Scarlett’s idea. His eyes were complex. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something. I closed the window wordlessly. Maybe because of this incident. Julian didn’t like me. My room was next to Scarlett’s, with good lighting. Vanessa didn’t skimp on me, asking the nanny to clean it up for me. But when I packed, I found the wall between the rooms broken through. The nanny was clueless and anxious. “This… we didn’t know.” Julian’s voice came from behind, strong and non-negotiable. “Scarlett is a girl. She needs space for her things. Go to the third floor and pick a room.” The third floor was empty. No life. I stood at the door, holding my suitcase. He glanced at me, tone softening slightly: “If it’s heavy, let the nanny help.” The nanny took it, surprised by the weight. “So light.” Julian frowned, blaming: “You haven’t finished packing?” I explained calmly. “I only have two sets of clothes and some junk. This is everything.” Julian’s eyes flickered. He hesitated. “Maybe you should stay here…” “No need. I’ll move.” I interrupted him. Julian was hostile towards me. He always thought I would bully Scarlett and steal her things. I found it funny. One cannot choose their birth. Blood is set. I can’t change it. I never wanted to fight Scarlett for anything. So this time, I just want to live. Truth or fake heiress, it doesn’t matter. This way, both Scarlett and I get what we want. Seeing my deliberate avoidance, Julian seemed to realize I found him annoying. He stopped bothering me. Chapter 3 Vanessa was satisfied with my obedience. She arranged for me and Scarlett to attend the same school. If kids were cicadas, Scarlett would be ten of them, screaming all summer. In elementary school, we were deskmates. Whenever the teacher wasn’t looking, Scarlett pulled my sleeve, whispering like a thief. “Jade, let’s buy candy after school. Sneak away from the driver.” I kept a straight face, pretending not to hear. Scarlett got anxious and kept calling. “Jade, Jade, Jade…” Before she finished, the teacher was there. Asking grimly: “What are you two doing?” I numbly stood in the hallway with Scarlett for the whole class. Over the years, this became routine. Scarlett made noise in my ears year after year. The two months after middle school graduation were a rare vacation. Children’s grades were capital for rich wives to show off. Scarlett and I both did well. Vanessa was proud in her circle. She called us over, gave us each a card, smiling: “Since exams are over, go have fun.” Scarlett happily took the card to plan a graduation trip with friends. In the evening, on the balcony, only Vanessa and I remained. She sat on the rocking chair, checking grades on her phone. Her scrutinizing gaze softened under the impressive report card. “You should know, I didn’t get along with your mom. I didn’t plan to raise you.” Vanessa said bluntly. My fingers clenched. “To be honest, if not for the inheritance, I wouldn’t have taken custody. But people have feelings. I raised you like my own. When you turn 18, the inheritance will be yours, untouched.” Vanessa said. I remembered she said the same thing in my past life. In the end, after Scarlett’s accident, nothing counted. I exhaled deeply, calming myself. I took the card and thanked her. “Thank you, Auntie. I won’t disappoint you.” Vanessa nodded, looking at the cheerful Scarlett downstairs. Just as I turned, she called me. Her hair glowed in the sunset. Her face was soft, gentle like a dream. She patted my shoulder. “Jade, Auntie is proud of you too.” I expected a lecture, but got this sentence. My eyes stung. In this moment, I really wanted to call her Mom. To reveal the buried truth, look into her eyes and ask: Why give your niece care, but not your own daughter? But I couldn’t. I swallowed the words. Back in my room, I slid down the door and let the tears fall. Kids from rich families, like Julian, go straight into the family business after graduation. Every step planned. I knew after our trip, she would arrange the best high schools for us. A bright future for the Vance children. But Mom. I don’t want to be your child anymore. Chapter 4 “Mom” was a strange word to me. I only learned the truth on my 18th birthday in my past life. Nominally, my mother was Vanessa’s biological sister. They fought since childhood. Vanessa married up despite family objections, and drifted apart from her family. The year Julian was born, Vanessa was busy. The nanny, resentful over her own grandson’s death, abused Julian. When Vanessa found out, Julian was one. He was delayed in walking and talking due to abuse. The Vance family was happy with the firstborn initially. But when outsiders mocked his mild autism, no one smiled anymore. Vanessa’s position was fragile. Until she got pregnant again. She hoped for a healthy boy. But she gave birth to me. A girl born in disappointment. Vanessa, terrified and depressed, paid a nanny to send me to an orphanage, claiming I was stolen. The nanny, guilty, dumped me in a remote place and fled with the money. The Vances didn’t look for the lost child, urging Vanessa to have another boy. That year, Julian recovered. When he called “Mom,” Vanessa remembered me. When he called “Dad,” making the family happy, she forgot me again. Vanessa’s sister, my biological aunt (actually mom), found me in the orphanage by chance. She brought me to Vanessa, demanding answers. Vanessa opened the door, holding Julian. I was four. I remembered the beautiful door opening to a woman looking down on me. She sneered at me in her sister’s arms: “This is your kid? Looks like a rat. No fortune.” Auntie was furious. Because of malnutrition, I looked younger than my age. They fought. When Auntie mentioned the stolen girl, Vanessa went crazy. The unspoken truth was buried in Vanessa’s harsh words. She stared at me, cold and vicious. “You short-lived ghost.” I shivered, though I never met this beautiful lady before. Even being bullied in the orphanage wasn’t this cold. Auntie slapped her and took me away. She never mentioned my origin again. She said I was her daughter, adopted. That year, Vanessa remembered her lost daughter. She went to the orphanage records. Coincidentally, a girl my age entered the orphanage the day I was dumped. She thought it was her daughter. So she adopted her, claiming she found her biological child. That child became Scarlett. With a son and a daughter, Vanessa stood firm in the wealthy family. Life was perfect. I became Auntie’s daughter. Until she and her husband died, leaving me and a fortune to Grandma. Grandma died soon after. Custody fell to my only relative. Back to Vanessa. But this time, I had to call her Auntie. And Vanessa’s curse came true. I died young. A short-lived ghost.

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My ex-boyfriend is rooming with my brother. My brother cursed while Venmo-ing me living expenses. “Happy now? You’re only with me for my money!” Sebastian Sterling saw this and added two zeros to the amount. “Mine is longer than his. I can make you happier.” Sebastian thought my brother was my current boyfriend. He bet with others that a gold digger like me would come crawling back with just a wave of his hand. I knew he was up to no good. Sebastian gave me his Black Card. I rejected it. My brother gave me a “Buy 10 Get 5 Off” coupon. I took it. Sebastian gave me a carefully selected gift. I rejected it. My brother gave me a half-used pack of tissues. I took it. Sebastian panicked completely. “Is my money Monopoly money? Would it kill you to spend it?!” Chapter 1 My brother cursed as he transferred my living expenses. “Happy now? You’re only with me for my money!” I didn’t dare breathe, grinning like a sly fox on the other end of the phone, full of flattery. As soon as I received the money, I loaded it all onto my campus meal plan. I’ve been a big eater since I was little. The all-you-can-eat buffet downstairs from my apartment closed within a month; the owner ran away overnight without telling me. When stocking up for holidays, my parents took turns guarding my door. Bought snacks you don’t like? No problem, I’ll handle it. Leftovers? Put them down, I’m here. The greatest charm of a mature woman is solving problems. Mom says since I was born, the family has never had leftovers. When I graduated high school, Dad asked where I wanted to go. I immediately said I wanted to go to my brother’s university. My brother froze, then clutched his meal card like he was facing a formidable enemy. Bad news! Disaster approaching! I scrimped and saved every month just to treat my mouth well. But by the end of the month, I’d still be out of money for food. At times like this, I’d do some gig work that provided meals. My brother, worried about me running around day and night, gritted his teeth and transferred me $500 from his own allowance. As soon as the disaster relief funds arrived, I turned into his simp. Before I could flatter him more, two messages popped up on my phone. Another transfer notification appeared, adding two zeros after the five hundred. My ex-boyfriend’s message followed closely. [Mine is longer than his. I can make you happier.] Chapter 2 It was noisy on my brother’s end. Someone seemed to be calling his name outside the dorm. He threw his phone on the desk and went out. He forgot to hang up. On the other end, Sebastian’s voice rang out. Someone was jeering beside him. “She just broke up with you, Sebastian, and turned around to hook up with someone else. Heh.” “Sebastian drops $50k just like that. Too cheap for that fickle woman.” Sebastian laughed carelessly, eyes narrowing slightly, long fingers playing with his phone. “A woman like Holly… I just need to hook my finger, and I can pry her back.” I stared at the $50,000 that just hit my account, lost in thought. When I first came to college, I ate and ate, advertising various restaurants on my social media. Whether it was “Collect likes for discounts” or “Repost for free drinks.” Give me a benefit, and I’d bite the hook. Some said I looked like a “dining shill.” Rumors got wilder, saying I tricked men into taking me to specific restaurants to get kickbacks. I don’t know where Sebastian heard this. With a halo over his head, he descended from the sky to punish me, the villain. “Date me. I’ll treat you to dinner. How about it?” Heaven-sent relief food? That’s very kind. I nodded like a pounding garlic pestle and agreed immediately. Sebastian set various traps, planning to expose my true colors in public. He asked me to take him to dinner. That day, he dressed formally. Suit ironed flat, shoes polished bright. An outfit fit for any high-end occasion, yet I dragged him to the street food night market. Explosively spicy snail noodles. Super spicy duck necks. Fiery skewers. I ate until my face was red, turning to ask him: “Feels good, right?” Sebastian looked at me with his ass on fire. He tested me as long as I dragged him through the night market. In the end, between enforcing justice and saving his butt, Sebastian chose the latter. He broke up with me. My eating buddy was gone. I was sad for a long time. Later, one of his bros let it slip, and I found out the truth. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Son of a bitch. There’s always someone trying to bully honest, good women like us. I looked at the $50,000 with resentment. Is this some new humiliation play? Afraid of a trap, I cautiously returned the money to Sebastian. On the other end of the phone, the notification for the returned $50k rang. The messy dorm instantly fell into a deathly silence. My brother came back. He picked up his phone and said: “Holly, someone just gave me two ‘Spend $10 Get $5 Off’ coupons. Want them?” I take advantage when I see it. “Yes!” Sebastian silently picked up his phone and typed a message to me. [Want my Black Card?] Just as he hit send, a red exclamation mark popped up. [Message blocked.] My brother chatted with me while cleaning up trash. “I have half a pack of tissues left here.” “Want!” “Won a dollar off coupon from a soda cap.” “Hand it over.” “The cookies I bought went a bit stale.” “It’s fine, I don’t mind.” “Sebastian, no swinging from the ceiling fan!” “Oka… wait, what?” My brother gathered a box of junk for me. When I went to pick it up, I heard someone in the boys’ dorm had a hearty tug-of-war between his neck and the ceiling beam. I couldn’t help sighing. Youth is wild. The RA and school doctor surrounded Sebastian, asking about his health. Sebastian remained silent, head lowered. When he passed my brother, Gavin was still buried in conversation with me. “Don’t blab in front of my girlfriend. I don’t want her to know about our relationship.” I received the benefits and grinned greedily. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know about us.” My brother was pursuing a senior who lived opposite my dorm. Knowing this, I chanted his praises in her ear daily like a monk reciting scriptures, boosting his presence. If the senior knew we were siblings, my praises would sound like self-promotion, zero credibility. Hearing this, Sebastian’s face changed colors. He looked at us with extremely complex eyes. “Gavin, you two… what is your relationship?” My brother answered honestly: “She’s my sister.” My brother took my dad’s last name; I took my mom’s. He didn’t know I knew Sebastian, so he didn’t explain further. Sebastian looked at me, then at my brother. He sneered, his tone turning sarcastic. “So, a ‘sister’.” He pulled a utility knife from his pocket, aiming at his wrist. “There seems to be a bug in my wrist, jumping around. I’ll pick it out.” The RA turned pale and roared: “That’s a fucking artery!” Chapter 3 My brother now had extra expenses for dating, on top of his own living costs. And because of me, he had to save some disaster relief funds every month. I felt a bit guilty. Just then, I saw an ad for day-labor housekeeping at a hotel. I signed up immediately. I wanted to scrape together some money to buy my brother the shoes he’d wanted for a long time. Knowing this, my brother was moved to tears, saying his little sister had grown up. I worked all day. When I clocked out, it was dark. Standing on the roadside, I called my brother: “It’s a bit remote here. Drive over and pick me up.” My brother said: “Find a place to wait a bit. I’m dropping off your sister-in-law first. I’ll get you in ten, fifteen minutes.” I said okay and waited by the road. A few minutes later, a black Porsche stopped in front of me. Window rolled down. I saw Sebastian’s face. He looked me up and down, then glanced at the hotel behind me. His brows furrowed slightly, the usual lazy smile fading. “Why are you here alone? Where’s Gavin?” Seeing Sebastian’s face, a nameless fire rose in my heart. Blame myself for being blinded by hunger back then, getting tricked by this venomous fox. My tone naturally carried resentment. “He went to see his girlfriend.” Sebastian seemed to laugh in anger. “So he just abandoned you?” I scratched my head. Felt weird, but not entirely wrong. I didn’t know how to answer, so I stood there like a log. “Get in. I’ll drive you back to school.” Sebastian opened the door. After getting in, I told my brother not to come; someone gave me a ride. Sitting in the passenger seat, I turned to look at Sebastian. Two buttons of his collar were undone, revealing a silver chain. The pendant glinted cold light, swaying with his movements. My eyes followed it down, stuck on his collarbone. “Why do this kind of thing?” Sebastian’s voice was cold. Listening closely, there was anger. I thought he meant my housekeeping job, despising my work again. “What do you rich people know? Who wants to do this if not for money?” Sebastian’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He gritted his teeth: “Just for five hundred dollars?” “Yes! Just for five hundred dollars!” I answered righteously. Dirty and tiring, meeting all kinds of weirdos, but it pays well! And provides meals! Sebastian asked: “Then why didn’t you take what I gave you?” “Is my money Monopoly money? Would it kill you to spend it?!” I wanted it too! But my IQ took the high ground then. By the time I snapped out of it, the money was returned. Can’t say such spineless words now. I smiled breezily like a saint. “Because it’s inappropriate.” Sebastian closed his eyes in despair, voice light as a whisper. “Then is he appropriate?” My phone rang in my pocket. The ringtone drowned out his sentence. I answered. My brother’s voice came through. “Holly, are you at school? Who drove you?” I looked at Sebastian. He shook his head, signaling me not to say it was him. So I lied: “A colleague drove me. We were going the same way.” My brother asked me to text him when I got to the dorm. I agreed. Sebastian’s car stopped at the school gate. I thanked him and got out. Just as I was closing the door, I heard Sebastian ask hoarsely: “Holly, must you go down this path? What he can give you, I can give you too.” Give me what? Daily wages? Damn fox, always hitting my weak spot. Thinking of him badmouthing me in the dorm today, I got angry. I dropped a decisive sentence: “No need!” Back in the dorm, I checked my phone and saw Sebastian’s new post. [My life is ruined by a scumbag.] Me: “?” What now? Chapter 4 I pulled Sebastian off the blocklist, debating all night how to advise him to see a neurologist. He was acting weird tonight. I suspected hanging himself damaged his brain. Holding my phone, I dozed off. When I opened my eyes the next day, my screen was full of my brother’s SOS messages. [Sis, my roommate Sebastian is acting weird. I’m scared.] [Woke up today and saw him sitting by my bed, staring at me like a resentful widow. Scared me to death.] [Not only that. His eyes are weird, tone is weird, questions are weird.] [He asked what brand of body lotion and shampoo I use, and what clothes I like.] [I answered, and he got a bunch of matching items, wandering in front of me like a clone.] [So scary, Sis! What is he doing?!] I could feel his breakdown through the screen. Recalling Sebastian’s post last night, a bold guess formed. [Bro, are you close with Sebastian usually?] My brother paused, then listed things. [He rarely stayed in the dorm before. Just started recently.] [Oh, I brought him lunch once. His eyes got weird then, and he moved back the next day.] [I think I said ‘Good morning’ to him.] [I helped him bring in laundry.] [He saw my broad shoulders, narrow waist, and sexy body.] My brother listed items, getting more desperate. [Is that kid coveting my ass?] My mood became heavy and complex. Ex-boyfriend fell in love with my brother. God, is this a plot that should appear in a romance novel? Nothing more to say. I sighed. [Bro, go weld some iron underpants.] My brother didn’t dare stay in the dorm for a second. Grabbed his coat to run. Just one step out, Sebastian’s chilly voice sounded. “Gavin, where are you going?” That day, I saw my six-foot brother forced into a corner. Hiding in the bathroom, calling me, voice desperate and helpless. “These rich people don’t treat honest folks like humans! I have a girlfriend, yet he won’t let me go, asking where I’m going, with whom, doing what.” “I know I’m beautiful, but a gentleman pursues properly! Forcing a good man into prostitution is villainous! My heart only holds your sister-in-law. A married man can be killed but not insulted! I won’t yield to evil forces!” I made up my mind, slamming the table. “Bro! I will protect your happiness and your ass!”

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