Julian never knew that on the night I pointed a gun at his head and demanded a breakup… I was three months pregnant with his child. He only knew I had gone mad. That I wanted to kill his mistress and their baby, and then end myself. When he choked me and threw me to the ground, he roared with disgust: “Do I not have the right to choose someone else?” “Am I stuck with a filthy ex-con like you for the rest of my life?” He walked away, protecting his mistress and her child, never looking back. He didn’t see the blood pooling beneath me. Three years later. We were strangers. I bumped into Julian at the entrance of the OB-GYN clinic. He was carefully shielding his new girlfriend. When his eyes landed on my baby bump, his feet were nailed to the floor. “Are you here alone?” I nodded calmly. The nurse called my name. As I stood up, Julian’s voice came from behind, hoarse and strained. “Scarlett, about back then… I’m sorry.” I didn’t stop. I walked away as if I heard nothing. Chapter 1 During the checkup, the doctor asked the routine question: “Any history of miscarriage?” I nodded and whispered, “Yes. Three years ago.” On that Christmas Eve three years ago. I lost Julian. And I lost that baby. Seeing him now, my heart no longer ached. After the checkup, I met my best friend for lunch. She studied my calm face and suddenly teared up. “Scarlett, I still can’t believe you actually moved on.” “Back then, you were so crazy over that scumbag Julian. It scared me.” I looked down at the steak on my plate. Yeah. Back then, I wasn’t human. I was a maniac. From eighteen to twenty-five. Seven years entangled with Julian Vance. It ended in a bloodbath in New York. I held a gun to his forehead. He strangled me with red eyes. We both wanted to win. But we both lost everything. Julian and I were two weeds growing in the cracks of the foster care system. I was wild and loved trouble. Julian was gentle, mature beyond his years. But every time there was trouble, he stood in front of me. I stole someone’s bread. But Julian was the one beaten black and blue. I swore then that when I grew up, I would protect him. Later, I grew into a young woman. My foster father started making me serve tea to his “special guests.” Julian never left my side, blocking those disgusting, sticky gazes. Until that day. He came home from school and found me covered in blood, shaking. The foster father was unconscious on the floor, pants half-down. Julian walked over, expressionless, and stomped on the man’s crotch. Crunch. He washed the blood from my hands and wiped my tears. We ran away that night. I was thirteen. He was sixteen. We slept under bridges. We ate out of dumpsters. Once, a kind stranger gave us a burger, and we were beaten half to death for it. I envied kids in uniforms. So Julian secretly worked construction to save for my tuition. The day I got into school, I hugged him and cried. He patted my head, his rough fingers gentle. “I’ll give you a good life, Scarlett.” Life did get better. Julian was brilliant and knew how to read people. In three years, he climbed from a laborer to the corporate office. I, however, struggled in school. Julian comforted me. He got a transfer to New York. We would start over there. A bright future was waiting. That night, I was too excited to sleep. But just before we were set to leave… The foster father brought the police. He claimed Julian castrated him. He wanted Julian to rot in prison. While Julian was away on business, I confessed to everything. I was sixteen. Sentenced for assault with a deadly weapon. When Julian visited me in juvie, crying and calling me stupid, I laughed heartlessly. I was already mud. But he had to be clean. Two years later, I was released. I flew straight to New York to find him. Twenty-one-year-old Julian. Suits, luxury cars, cold and noble. Only when he looked at me did his eyes soften with indulgence. Here, no one knew our dirty past. We were reborn. On my eighteenth birthday, drunk on cheap wine, I kissed him. That night, we became each other’s. The pressure of survival was suffocating. We clung to each other for warmth. Neither of us thought that one day, I would point a gun at him. And he would strangle me, wishing I were dead. When I was twenty-four, Julian became CEO. He was busier. I did nothing but enjoy life. He kept his promise. But I wasn’t happy. I noticed the perfume on his shirts. I acted jealous, telling him to stay away from other women. Julian was always patient. He never exposed me. He would just whisper in my ear during sex: “It’s all for you. There’s no one else, silly.” I relaxed. We grew up together. We survived hell together. I should trust him. Until Chloe appeared. She was the most invisible intern in his office. Skinny, gray, like a frightened quail. Julian disliked her stupidity and wanted to fire her. Seeing her trembling, I felt pity. I intervened and saved her job. Julian frowned but agreed. “Just this once.” When Chloe looked at me with gratitude, blushing, I smiled. I didn’t know I had just saved a demon who would devour me. That night, Julian bit my lip punishingly. “Like saving people so much?” “Why don’t you beg me now?” Later, the name Chloe appeared frequently in our conversations. At first, it was mocking: “That idiot you saved spilled coffee on a contract today.” I kissed him, praising his patience. Then, the tone changed: “That little intern fell asleep at her desk. Drooled everywhere.” “She’s so clumsy. Spilled water on herself and tried to borrow my jacket.” I interrupted: “Did you lend it to her?” Julian paused, then rolled his eyes. “Could I refuse? She’s the one you saved.” As he climbed higher, he got busier. Our conversations dwindled. Either silence, or Chloe. It was like we couldn’t talk without mentioning her. I felt uneasy, but I chose to trust him. He was the man I loved for so many years. Until one day, I felt nauseous and went to the doctor. At the end of the hallway in the OB-GYN clinic, I saw two familiar figures. Julian was carefully supporting Chloe. Intimate. Protective. Panic seized me. My rationality collapsed. Blood rushed to my head. I couldn’t hear anything. By the time I snapped back, I had already rushed over and kicked Chloe to the ground. Chloe screamed, clutching her stomach. “Julian… it hurts… the baby…” Julian looked up. His eyes were colder than ice. He didn’t explain. He didn’t even look at me again. He scooped Chloe up and shouted for a doctor. I didn’t know how I got home. The lights were on, but my home was gone. We entered a cold war. He didn’t come home for two weeks. When he did, he packed his bags. I screamed, grabbing his sleeve, asking why. He wouldn’t say a word. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching me smash everything in the house like a lunatic. Six months ago, we were picking out wedding dresses. Planning for a baby. I didn’t understand how a heart could change so fast. I went to his office, but the secretary blocked me. I became a stalker. I watched him and Chloe. I watched him go to her prenatal checkups. I watched him move his things into her small apartment. I even fantasized that maybe he had terminal cancer and was pushing me away to save me pain. Until I saw him rolling in bed with the pregnant Chloe. That moment, all excuses crumbled. I rushed in, dragged Chloe off the bed by her hair, and slapped her twice. Hearing her scream gave me no pleasure. Only sorrow. This wasn’t the future I dreamed of. Julian sat on the messy bed, buttoning his shirt slowly. He wasn’t even angry. He looked down at me like I was a shrew. His gaze stabbed my heart. My grip loosened. Julian got off the bed. He gently removed my hand from Chloe’s hair. Then—he shoved me hard. I stumbled back, hitting the wall. He adjusted his cuffs, his voice icy. “Scarlett, don’t be ungrateful.” “Everything you have, I gave you. If you don’t want it, plenty of others do.” He glanced at me. “If you behave, the wedding is still on at the end of the year. If you keep making scenes, I’ll send you back to the slums to rot.” Through my blurred vision, I didn’t recognize him. I didn’t know what I did wrong. To save us, I tried everything. Therapy. Psychics… But I only got more disgust from him. Later, he stopped coming home entirely. He bought a luxury condo opposite his office for Chloe. He wouldn’t see me. I threatened suicide. I stood on the roof of his company all night. I cut my wrists. But I got nothing. Not even a look. My health deteriorated. When I realized I missed my period, I saw a glimmer of hope. Holding the ultrasound, I cried in the hospital hallway. Three months pregnant. I thought God had given me a lifeline. Julian loved kids. He wanted a family. With this baby, we could be a family again. I suppressed my excitement and called him. “Julian, come home for dinner. I have good news.” Maybe because I sounded so humble, so pathetic. Silence. Then, a charitable “Okay.” At 8 PM, I wore his favorite red dress and cooked his favorite meal. The lock turned. Julian walked in. I threw myself into his arms, hugging his waist tight, sobbing. “Julian… I can’t live without you.” “Let’s stop fighting, okay? We’re going to have…” Before I could finish, a timid voice came from the door. “Julian… Mary says it’s time to feed Little Annie.” “She cries when she doesn’t see her daddy.” My blood froze. Annie. That was the name Julian picked for our daughter. He had a daughter with Chloe. Then what is the baby in my belly? Before I could speak, Julian stiffened. He shielded Chloe behind him. Like I was a monster who would hurt his treasure. He frowned, impatient. “Didn’t you say you had good news? Spit it out. I don’t have time.” His eagerness to comfort her child stung my eyes. “Annie?” I whispered. “That’s the name you promised our daughter! How could you give it to her?!” Julian’s eyes were dead calm. “It’s just a name. Why are you so petty?” “Chloe is weak. Don’t throw a fit here.” He looked me up and down, disgust filling his eyes. “Scarlett, look in the mirror.” “You look like a crazy hag right now.” Crazy hag? My mind went blank. I stared at his impatient face and Chloe’s provoking smirk behind him. Hatred consumed my reason. I shoved Julian aside, grabbed Chloe by her hair, and dragged her screaming into my car. “Ah!! Julian, save me!!” Julian roared behind me. I didn’t listen. I locked the doors and floored the gas. Seeing Chloe’s terrified face in the passenger seat gave me a thrill. I drove like a maniac to their condo. I ignored the nanny, rushed into the bedroom, and grabbed the baby. I also took the gun Julian kept in the nightstand drawer. Five minutes later, Julian and Chloe stood before me again. Chloe wept in his arms. The tragic lovers. And I was the villain. How ironic. I pointed the gun at the baby in my arms. “Chloe, kneel and beg me.” “Or I shoot this bastard!” Julian turned purple. “Scarlett!! Are you insane?!” I looked at his eyes, filled with murderous intent. Was this really the Julian who survived hell with me? I once paid a psychic to see if he was possessed. Because the real Julian would never hurt me like this. While I was distracted… Julian snatched the baby and handed her to Chloe. His other hand clamped onto my wrist, trying to disarm me. Bang— The gunshot was deafening. A hole appeared in the ceiling. When I came to, my gun was pressed against his forehead. And Julian had me pinned to the bed, choking me. His eyes were red, veins popping. He cursed: “Scarlett, you are a lunatic!” “You curse! Why don’t you just die?!” Why don’t you just die. I laughed. Tears streamed down my face as I laughed. The boy who saved me from the devil was now the man cursing me to die. Why was I alive? His voice echoed in my head. Fine. As you wish. I twisted my wrist. The gun pointed at my own temple. Julian’s face changed. He slapped the gun away. Clatter. The gun flew across the room. Julian seemed relieved. Then he shoved me. Hard. I flew backward. My lower abdomen slammed into the sharp corner of the bed frame. Pain exploded. I fell to the floor, curling up to protect my belly. Julian looked at his hand, dazed for a second. He took a step toward me. But the next second, Chloe screamed. “Julian! Help! The baby isn’t breathing!” Julian withdrew his hand. He didn’t look at me again. He turned and ran out with Chloe and his child. Warm liquid flowed down my legs, staining the white carpet red. The fear of losing my baby woke my survival instinct. I endured the agony and crawled toward the door. I reached out, grasping only air. “Julian…” “Save… our baby…” But that day, only the wind heard me.

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Dad bought a cotton candy for me and one for my big sister, Chloe. I took mine happily, but Chloe started wailing. “Why does she get the same as me? See? Now that you have a second kid, I’m not the favorite anymore!” Hearing this, Mom gently pulled the cotton candy out of my hand. “Be a good girl, Ellie. Give this to Chloe. You can eat something else later.” But I wanted cotton candy too. I started to cry, feeling wronged. Mom snapped instantly. “Can’t you be more mature? You already stole half of Chloe’s love! Can’t you even let her have a cotton candy?” “Fighting with your sister at this age… what will you become when you grow up?” Scared, I stopped crying and tugged at Mom’s coat. “Mommy, don’t be mad. Ellie doesn’t want it anymore…” Mom froze for a second, then seemed even angrier. She stormed to the stall, bought ten cotton candies, and shoved them into my arms. “Eat! Sit right here and eat! Don’t move until you finish them all!” Mom took Chloe’s hand and walked away. Dad patted my head, his voice tired. “Ellie, be good. When Mom cools down, Dad will come back for you.” I sat alone on the bench in the mall, stuffing cotton candy into my mouth as fast as I could. When I was eating the seventh one, the mall caught fire. Chapter 1 People screamed and ran toward the exits. I sat on the bench, too scared to move. I just ate faster. The cotton candy was so sweet it tasted bitter. Eat faster. Faster. Once I finish, Dad will come back for me. Suddenly, strong arms scooped me up from the chair. It was the Cotton Candy Lady. She ran outside and put me down, gasping for air. “Stay here! Don’t move! I’m going to find a police officer to help find your parents. Do you hear me? Don’t run off!” Just then, I saw Chloe. I ran over and grabbed her arm. “Chloe! Where are Mom and Dad?” Chloe shook off my hand violently. She looked at me with hate. “Mom and Dad thought you were still inside. They went back in to save you.” My brain buzzed. I turned around and sprinted back toward the fire. I had to find Mom and Dad. I had to bring them out. The Cotton Candy Lady was too far away to catch me. She screamed desperately behind me. “Come back! Child! What are you doing! Come back—!” I didn’t look back. I waved at her while running. “Thank you, Auntie!” I ran back to the bench against the heatwave. The bench was already blackened by smoke. Flames crackled all around. “Dad! Mom!” I shouted, my voice hoarse. But there was no one. The cotton candy in my arms melted into sticky syrup all over my clothes. If Mom saw this, she would be so mad. I ran desperately, looking for them. Nowhere. I couldn’t find them anywhere. I tripped and fell. I didn’t have the strength to get up anymore. Fire and thick smoke surrounded me. I curled up on the scorching floor and prayed with my last thought. “Mom, Dad, please make it out…” The pain and suffocation vanished quickly. I seemed to float up. It was magical. I thought of Mom and Dad, and suddenly, I was drifting beside them. On the chaotic street outside the mall, Mom was wrapping a blanket carefully around Chloe. “Don’t be scared, Chloe. It’s over,” Mom soothed her. Dad handed Chloe a cup of hot cocoa. “Chloe, are you shocked? Drink something sweet to calm down.” Thank goodness! Mom and Dad are safe! Dad turned to a busy firefighter, gesturing urgently. “Excuse me, have you seen a little girl? About this tall? Two pigtails, wearing a white coat…” Dad was looking for me! I rushed over to hug Dad’s leg. But I passed right through his body. “Dad! Ellie is here!” I shouted loud. I tried again and again, but I grabbed nothing but air. Just then, Chloe tugged at Dad’s sleeve. “Dad… I think I saw Ellie just now.” Dad froze. Mom turned her head sharply. “Really? Where? Is she okay?” Dad’s voice trembled with excitement as he grabbed Chloe’s shoulders. Chloe flinched, shrinking back. She whispered, “She left with a lady.” “A lady? What kind of lady? Which way?” Dad asked urgently. Guilt flashed in Chloe’s eyes, but neither Mom nor Dad noticed. “I think it was the Cotton Candy Lady…” “I wanted to scare her a little. I told her you guys thought she was inside and went in to save her.” “But… she ignored me. She didn’t even ask about you guys. She just left with that lady.” The urgency on Dad’s face vanished. His face turned gray as he let go. No! It’s not like that! I didn’t leave you! I was crying, screaming to explain, but they heard nothing. Mom was shaking with rage. “She ignored you and left?!” She hugged Chloe tighter and glared at Dad. “Listen! Just listen! This is the ‘good daughter’ you spoiled!” “She knew we risked our lives to find her, and she didn’t even ask if we were alive? She just left with a stranger selling candy!” Dad hunched his back, staring dead at the mall entrance. He said nothing. In the crowd, I saw the Cotton Candy Lady sitting on the ground, wailing. “That child… I brought her out! But she heard her parents were inside and ran back in!” “Silly child… she could have lived!” I whispered I’m sorry to her. Dad looked in her direction. He took a few steps forward. His eyes flickered. My heart tightened. Dad must recognize her! He must know Chloe is lying! But Dad stopped. He turned back to Mom and sighed. “Did you hear that?” Dad sounded so disappointed. “Someone else’s child… heard her parents might be inside. She was safe, but she ran back in.” “What a loyal, brave kid.” Dad didn’t recognize her. Chloe let out a breath of relief. Mom scoffed. “You said it. That’s someone else’s child.” “Ours is an ungrateful white-eyed wolf. Don’t compare them.” “For a bite of candy, she ignored her own parents’ lives. We wasted years raising her!” I stood there, feeling so wronged. It wasn’t someone else’s child! That was me! I am your child! Dad wiped his face wearily. “Let’s go. Let’s go home.” Chapter 2 My soul followed them home involuntarily. The house was exactly as we left it this morning. The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled quietly. The snowflake stickers I pasted were still on the window. Dad opened the fridge and took out a turkey. Mom rolled her eyes. “Why bother with that bird? None of us like turkey.” “We bought it because that ungrateful brat begged for roast turkey on Christmas Eve. It cost fifty bucks!” “And now? She doesn’t even care!” Dad sighed. He put the turkey back, thought for a moment, then took it out again. “Let’s cook it anyway.” “Maybe she’s just playing. Maybe she went to a friend’s house.” “Maybe… she’ll come back for dinner.” Dad made a feast. The roast turkey was golden, just like on TV. Too bad I couldn’t taste it anymore. I tried to grab the turkey, flying through the table. Mom suddenly looked in my direction. My heart jumped. Can Mom see me? I waved, but her eyes didn’t move. She was just staring at the dark window behind me. After a while, Mom slammed her chopsticks on the table. “I knew it! She’s not coming back!” Mom’s voice trembled with rage. She stood up, grabbed the untouched turkey, and threw it in the trash. “If she has the guts, she better never come back! I’ll pretend I never gave birth to her!” “Don’t…” I tried to stop her, reaching for the turkey. But I touched nothing. Dad patted Mom’s back gently. “Okay, okay. Don’t be mad at her. We still have Chloe.” Chloe immediately threw herself into Mom’s arms. “Mommy, don’t be mad. Chloe only loves Mommy and Daddy.” Mom hugged her tight. “Yes… Mommy isn’t mad.” “Mommy still has Chloe.” Dad stroked Chloe’s back too. Under the twinkling Christmas lights, the family of three hugged tightly. The next morning, Dad rushed into my room as soon as he woke up. Seeing the empty bed, his shoulders slumped. Mom stood behind him and sneered. “Checking what? Still fantasizing she’ll come back? Ridiculous!” On the TV, the news was reporting on the fire. “The search and rescue operation for the massive mall fire yesterday is coming to an end. Most victims have been identified. However, one young female victim remains unclaimed.” “The body was found near the play area on the fourth floor. Height approximately 3 feet 11 inches…” I screamed. That’s Ellie! Go bring me home! Dad walked closer to the TV, trying to see clearly. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Dad and Mom froze. “Is Ellie back?” Panic flashed across Chloe’s face. She ran to open the door. Standing there was my best friend, Mia. Mia held a beautifully wrapped gift box, eyes sparkling. “Morning, Chloe! Is Ellie up? We promised to exchange gifts today! It’s Christmas!” Chloe blocked the door, voice cold. “Ellie? She’s not coming back. Don’t come looking for her anymore.” Mia looked confused. “Why? Where did she go?” Chloe scoffed. “She wanted to eat cotton candy every day, so she adopted the Cotton Candy Lady as her mom. She’s never coming back to this house.” “No way!” Mia’s eyes turned red. “Ellie wouldn’t just leave without saying anything! Even if she left, she would say goodbye to me!” I floated next to Mia, feeling warm. Mom sighed. She walked into my room and dragged out two large boxes. They were filled with my favorite toys and books. “Take these. Don’t cry. Be careful making friends in the future. Don’t play with heartless kids.” Mia stepped forward and dug through the box carefully. Soon, she found the Christmas gift I prepared for her. The box had our secret drawing on it. “Found it! This is from Ellie!” Mia put the gift in her bag and looked up at Mom seriously. “Auntie, these toys belong to Ellie. I don’t want them. I just want my gift exchange.” “I’ll wait for Ellie to come back.” Mom didn’t answer. Mia walked away, then turned back. “Uncle, Auntie, my mom says trust is the most important thing in a family.” “Ellie isn’t heartless. She will come back.” Mom slammed the door. Bang. “A little brat lecturing me! Who does she think she is?” Mom was furious. She dragged the boxes out the door. “What are you doing?” Dad tried to stop her. “Let me go!” Mom shook him off. “Out of sight, out of mind! Just pretend she’s dead!” But Mom, I am dead. Chloe “helpfully” assisted Mom in throwing all my things into the community dumpster. Some kids gathered, rummaging roughly through my stuff. The doll Mia gave me was unpacked. A beautiful porcelain doll. “What is this junk?” The doll was thrown on the ground. Shattered. I wanted to stop them, but I was less than a breeze. I could only pass through them. Finally, they got bored and left with their loot. I floated back home silently. Everything related to me was gone. Mom truly didn’t want me anymore. Chapter 3 For the next few days, life went back to normal. No one mentioned me. Like I never existed. Until one day, Ms. Baker from preschool called. “Mrs. Lu, Ellie hasn’t been to school for days. Is everything okay?” Mom’s voice was cold. “Oh, nothing. She’s not going anymore. I’ll process her withdrawal in a few days.” Ms. Baker hesitated. “Is it possible… that the little girl in the viral video is actually Ellie?” “What video?” Mom asked stiffly. Ms. Baker sighed in relief. “If you don’t know, then it must not be her.” “It’s the fire video. A little girl ran back into the fire to find her parents… heartbreaking.” “The back looked like her… Good, good that it’s not.” Mom raised her voice. “Ms. Baker, we heard about that girl. It’s not Ellie. She’s not that noble.” “She fought with her sister over food. I scolded her, and she ran off with a stranger to be her new mom. Haven’t seen her since!” Ms. Baker gasped. “So Ellie has been missing for days? Did you call the police?” Mom cut her off. “Police? Her sister saw her leave willingly! Chloe never lies!” Ms. Baker’s voice turned serious. “Mrs. Lu, there must be a misunderstanding. I know Ellie.” “Besides, for such a young child, even if she left, you as a mother have a duty to find her!” Mom jumped up from the sofa. “Addicted to lecturing? You don’t even have kids! Don’t tell me how to be a mother!” “I think you’re a terrible teacher. Tricked by a kid.” “Some kids are just born bad. Two-faced little monsters!” Mom slammed the phone down. At dinner, there was a knock. It was Ms. Baker and two police officers. Mom’s face darkened. “Ms. Baker? You brought cops to my house?” “I told you, our family matters don’t need outsiders!” Ms. Baker tried to stay calm. “Mrs. Lu, something doesn’t feel right. I know Ellie.” “For the child’s safety, I must verify.” Mom glanced at the cops and crossed her arms. “She left on her own. No missing person. No fire.” “That kid is spoiled. One cotton candy didn’t go her way, and she pulls this stunt. I’m not playing her game!” Chloe, hiding behind Mom, suddenly pointed at Ms. Baker and shouted: “Ellie told me Ms. Baker is the worst!” “She plays favorites and hits Ellie! Ellie hates preschool!” She’s lying! I love Ms. Baker! Ms. Baker ignored the slander. She stared at Chloe for a long time. “Officer, this child… please look closely. Is she the one…” The officer looked at Chloe, tapped his phone, and handed it to Mom. “Is the girl in this video your daughter?” Mom looked impatient. “Video again? I said that girl isn’t…” She stopped. The screen was paused on Chloe’s profile. Mom’s hand shook as she pressed play. In the video, Chloe’s voice was full of icy malice. “Mom and Dad thought you were still inside. They went back in to save you.” Then, my tiny figure sprinted into the black smoke without hesitation. And the Cotton Candy Lady, kneeling on the pavement, screaming. “Silly child… she could have lived!” Mom looked like her soul was sucked out. She stood rigid, knuckles white gripping the phone. Dad swayed violently. He looked up, staring dead at Chloe. “You…” His words choked in his throat, blocked by immense grief and disbelief. Chloe turned pale as a sheet, backing away, shaking her head. The video looped. Even though it was just my back, how could they not recognize me? The “ungrateful wolf” they cursed for days. The child punished alone in the mall for wanting a treat. The child who ran into hell because of one sentence from her sister. The “someone else’s kid” they admired. It was their Ellie. “AHHH——!!” Mom let out a scream so piercing it deformed her face. She lunged at Chloe, shaking her shoulders violently. “Why! Chloe! Tell me why! That was your sister! Your own sister!” “How could you say that to her?! How could you watch her run into the fire?! How could you…” Chloe was terrified out of her mind. She just cried, unable to say a word. Ms. Baker teared up and shouted: “Now you blame the daughter? Where were you parents when this happened?!” Mom froze. Her hands dropped from Chloe’s shoulders. “Ms. Baker, you’re right.” She mumbled, then slapped herself hard. “It’s my fault. That day… I was in a bad mood. When I saw Chloe cry, I remembered my own childhood. Being the older sister. I was mistreated because of my siblings.” “I tried to be fair. I tried to treat them equally. But I couldn’t. I was so tired…” Slap! Another blow to her own face. “Experts say, if you can’t be fair, prioritize the older one. Because the younger one doesn’t understand. They won’t remember. You can make it up later.” “I thought Ellie didn’t understand. She’s small. She’d forget.” “So every time I lost control, I took it out on Ellie. Because she’s small. She doesn’t hold grudges…” Mom wept, slapping herself rhythmically. “I actually believed her sister. I thought Ellie was heartless… I’m not human. I don’t deserve to be a mother!” Dad stepped up and held Mom’s hands. “Don’t do this. Blame me… I knew Ellie was wronged. Why did I smooth things over? Why did I walk away? Why did I buy milk tea…” Dad cried like a child. He took Mom’s hand and slapped his own face. “Okay, calm down!” The lead officer raised his voice, separating the broken parents from the shivering Chloe. “Based on the video and evidence, we highly suspect the unclaimed child victim is your daughter, Ellie Lu.” “Please come to the station to identify the body.” Chapter 4 Hearing the officer, Mom’s dull eyes suddenly focused with a terrifying light. “Right! We haven’t seen her! We haven’t seen the body!” She started grabbing her coat, energized by denial. “The video only shows her back! A back doesn’t prove anything! Maybe we’re wrong? Maybe she ran in and ran out?” “It’s definitely not Ellie. She’s alive. She went with the lady to eat cotton candy! She loves cotton candy!” “Ellie is just mad at me. She ran away. She must be somewhere!” Dad closed his eyes in despair. He knew. But seeing Mom’s hope, he rasped out a lie to himself: “Maybe… maybe there’s a miracle?” Even if the miracle meant his daughter hated them and ran off with a stranger. As long as she was alive. Breathing. Somewhere. The police car pulled up to the back of the morgue. Mom and Dad supported each other, stumbling out of the car. Just as they reached the steps, a figure rushed out and blocked them. Mrs. Higgins. The Cotton Candy Lady. Her eyes were swollen. She still wore the coat stained with soot and sugar. “You… you people are actually alive!” “That child risked everything to save you! You killed her!” Mom ignored the accusation. She grabbed Mrs. Higgins’ arm, begging incoherently. “Ma’am! Ma’am, tell me! Did Ellie go with you? You took her for cotton candy, right?” “Where is she? Give her back to me! She’s alive, right? Please tell me she’s alive!” Mrs. Higgins froze. Then, enraged by the absurdity. Slap! A loud slap across Mom’s face. “I WISH she went with me!” Mrs. Higgins roared. “I’ve been squatting here for days, waiting to see if anyone would claim her! I wanted to see if the heartless parents who abandoned her were dead yet!” “Ask your conscience! Are you human?! Leaving a toddler alone! Forcing her to eat so much sugar! When I saved her, she was mumbling ‘can’t leave until I finish’!” Mom covered her face, lips trembling. “No… I just wanted to punish her a little… I didn’t think… I thought she could run…” Mrs. Higgins choked on her tears. “She did run! I brought her out! But then?” “You treated her like that! Yet when she heard you were inside, she didn’t hesitate! She ran into hell!” “But you? You animals are alive! Such a good child is… I can’t accept this!” Mrs. Higgins broke down, squatting on the ground, wailing. Mom stood there, eyes completely empty. Dad held her up, his own hands shaking uncontrollably. The police officer whispered to Mrs. Higgins and led her aside. Mom and Dad, like two zombies, followed the officer up the steps. My body was burned beyond recognition. Only my teeth and DNA confirmed it was me. They didn’t say a word. Mom didn’t scream or cry. She just hugged the small box and got in the car. Dad’s jaw was clenched so hard it looked like it would snap. He touched the box with a trembling hand. “Ellie, let’s go home.” “Sorry. Dad said he’d come back for you. Dad is late.”

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I woke up from a car accident. My brother, my childhood sweetheart fiancé, and the college student I sponsored all told me I had amnesia. They said I was the daughter of the housekeeper. And Chloe, the real housekeeper’s daughter, was the true Heiress. “A maid’s daughter is still a maid. Go, cook me something.” I didn’t expose them. Instead, I obediently walked into the kitchen. But I didn’t use balsamic vinegar. I used engine oil. They ate it and spent the night in the ER. I didn’t use an iron for their clothes. I used a blowtorch. Millions of dollars in couture went up in flames. It wasn’t until I washed their underwear with chili powder instead of detergent that they finally broke. “Are you amnesiac or just brain-dead? You idiot, are you trying to kill me?!” Chloe strangled me, her face twisted. The three men looked at me with murderous intent. I smirked secretly. Isn’t this what you wanted? In my past life, because I exposed your lies, you strangled me to death in the basement. “You’ve been treated like a princess since birth. Chloe wants to experience it too. Why can’t you just let her?” The suffocation I felt when they killed me was still fresh. Reborn, I decided to play along. I’ll satisfy your wish for an amnesiac maid. Let’s see who dares to “trigger” my memory back! Chapter 1 “Your name is Scarlett. You are the daughter of the housekeeper. This is Miss Chloe, the heiress of this house. Your main job is to serve her.” Julian made the introductions. Ethan and Caleb stood by, nodding in agreement. “You were naturally mischievous. Before you lost your memory, you were rude to my sister. You need to turn over a new leaf.” “Exactly. Miss Chloe sponsored my college tuition. She is the kindest heiress I’ve ever met. You can’t overshadow her just because she’s nice.” While they sang their duet painting me as a wicked servant, they didn’t even take down my oil portrait from the wall. I pretended to be blind and bowed ninety degrees. “So I’m a maid. Thank you for telling me, Young Masters, Miss.” Seeing me accept this identity so easily, the three men sighed in relief. Chloe struck while the iron was hot, lifting her chin proudly. “Maid’s daughters are tough. You aren’t that delicate. Leave the hospital now and go home to work.” I frowned. The three men instantly went on high alert. “What’s wrong? Do you… remember something?” “Didn’t you say Miss Chloe is kind? I just had a car accident, and she won’t even give me a few days of sick leave?” The hospital room fell silent. Chloe cleared her throat and pouted coquettishly. “I just wanted to test if she really became obedient after losing her memory…” The three men immediately felt she made sense and forced me to be discharged. I looked at these men bustling around Chloe and sneered internally. The man handling the paperwork was my brother, Ethan. The man holding water for Chloe was my fiancé, Julian. The man carrying Chloe’s bag was Caleb, the student I sponsored. In my past life, they staged a car accident to give me a concussion. They bribed the doctor to damage my memory nerves. When I woke up, they gaslighted me, saying I was the maid’s daughter. But the doctor failed. I remembered everything. I fought back, causing chaos. Terrified that I would contact the secret security firm my father left me, they strangled me in the basement. “We just wanted to satisfy Chloe’s princess dream. Why couldn’t you just play along?” “You’re so disobedient. We have to send you away.” In my past life, I died with my eyes open. In this life, I will give you the amnesiac maid you wanted. As soon as we got home, I put on the maid uniform and went into the kitchen. When I served a plate of pitch-black lettuce, Ethan frowned. He knew I had never stepped into a kitchen in my life. Eating my cooking required courage. “Young Masters, Miss, please try my ‘Special Oil Lettuce’.” Chloe glanced at me smugly, picked up a leaf, and chewed. After a few chews, her face changed. She bent over the table and vomited violently. “This isn’t balsamic vinegar! It’s engine oil!” Chloe’s teeth were instantly stained black. Ethan was about to explode, but I clutched my head in pain. “Am I not a maid? Isn’t cooking my forte? Why can’t I tell the difference between vinegar and engine oil?” “How could I forget my skills just because of amnesia? How could I feed Miss Chloe oil?” “My head hurts… think, stupid brain! Remember!” I punched my own head wildly. Ethan and Chloe were stunned. Afraid I might actually remember something, Ethan rushed over and grabbed my wrist. “Enough! Stop hitting yourself!” He dragged me to the laundry room. “Don’t cook for now. Start with simple chores.” “Chloe and I have clothes that need ironing. Iron them and hang them up. That’s your task.” I nodded obediently, watching them leave to eat out, abandoning my oil feast. After they left, I walked into the bedroom that used to be mine. It was now fully occupied by Chloe. I smirked and flicked my lighter. Chapter 2 After sirens wailed and chaos ensued, I was sent to the hospital. I pretended to be unconscious until I heard familiar voices. “Chloe, I thought you were inside! What would I do if you were trapped?” My fiancé, Julian, held Chloe with hope, thankful she was safe. I swallowed my anger and coughed weakly. Ethan’s face was grim. “We were only gone for a while, and the whole house burned down. Scarlett, what did you do?” “Young Master, I was just ironing your clothes. I don’t know why they caught fire.” “What did you use to iron them?” I waved the charred blowtorch I had been clutching since I got on the stretcher. Julian looked like he wanted to kill me. “You used a blowtorch to iron clothes? Scarlett, are you insane?” I pouted, hitting my head again in frustration. “Yes… I’m sick… I have amnesia… Why can’t I remember? I’m so stupid. Am I really a maid?” At these words, Chloe, Ethan, and Julian’s faces changed. I rolled off the bed, shouting for a doctor to cure my amnesia. The door swung open and shut. Caleb rushed in, covered my mouth, and looked at the others in panic. “I heard her screaming from down the hall. Why aren’t you stopping her?” Chloe glared at me and checked her watch. “She’s acting like a maniac. It’s 1 AM. I’m exhausted!” Julian hugged her and threw a set of keys to Ethan. “I have a villa in the suburbs. Stay there for a few days. As for Scarlett…” He looked at me, then at Ethan and Caleb. “It must be the aftereffects. She’s too destructive. We should all watch her so she doesn’t cause more trouble.” I moved into Julian’s suburban villa with them. My room was the maid’s quarters next to the bathroom. 4 AM. The villa was silent. I sneaked into the bathroom and squatted in front of their dirty laundry. “What are you doing?” A cold male voice sounded behind me. I didn’t move or speak. Julian lost patience. He turned on the light, grabbed my neck, and pulled me up. “Sneaking around in the dark. What are you doing?” I held up a pair of pink panties, looking innocent. “I’m washing Miss Chloe’s underwear.” Julian saw the dripping panties and looked awkward. “Wash them tomorrow. Go to sleep.” I nodded, threw the panties into the dryer, hung them on Chloe’s doorknob a few minutes later, and went back to sleep. The next morning, I was dragged out of bed by my hair. Chloe’s face was twisted in pain. She slapped me frantically. “Are you amnesiac or brain-dead? You idiot, are you trying to kill me?!” Chapter 3 Chloe kept her legs tight together, twisting her body in agony. It seemed the chili powder I used to wash her panties last night worked. I suppressed a laugh and looked at her innocently. “Miss, is your… flower okay?” Another slap landed on my face. I wailed and ran out the door. Chloe pinned me down at the top of the stairs, trying to hit me again. I covered my eyes and screamed as if in pain. Then I threw myself backward, tumbling down the stairs. Ethan, Julian, and Caleb rushed over to find Chloe standing at the top, looking dazed. I squinted my red, swollen eyes, clutched my broken leg, and pretended to faint. I don’t know how long passed before Caleb’s voice woke me. “Chloe, you should control yourself. The doctor said she can’t be stimulated. What if she remembers?” “She’s acting like an idiot! How could she remember?” “I only slapped her a few times! Look at me! I’m bleeding down there!” “She rubbed chili powder in her own eyes! She threw herself down the stairs!” Chloe screamed hysterically. Ethan and Julian, who usually defended her, stayed silent. I slowly opened my eyes. The stinging was gone, but my vision was blank. I waved my hand in front of my face. A hand held mine. “The doctor said the chili powder damaged your corneas. Temporary blindness is normal,” Julian said, his voice tinged with pity. I stared blankly ahead, silent. “What about your leg? Does it hurt? Want a painkiller?” Ethan touched my cast gently. I remained numb. If I had to describe myself right now: weak, helpless, autistic, pitiful. Seeing me like this, Chloe exploded. “Scarlett, stop acting! I didn’t throw chili powder or push you! You washed my underwear with chili powder and left it for me! You provoked me!” Under her abuse, I finally reacted. I cried, punching my head again. “I’m sorry. Since the car accident, my brain isn’t right. I can’t do anything right. I should have died in that crash…” Julian and Ethan tried to stop me, but I broke free like a frightened animal. I huddled in the corner, banging my head against the wall, crying that I deserved to die. Pain flashed across their faces. They pulled me into a hug. “It’s okay. We know you didn’t mean it. No one wants you to die.” I sobbed in their arms like a wronged bunny. Chloe was about to explode. “Scarlett, you fake…” “Chloe! She’s badly hurt. Stop it,” Ethan said coldly. Julian held me tighter. Chloe’s face cracked. Chapter 4 This time, they didn’t force me to leave the hospital. I discharged myself. I walked on crutches, wearing the maid uniform again. When I served a bowl of noodles boiled in laundry detergent to Chloe, she flipped the bowl. Hot liquid scalded my hand red. I knelt and kowtowed, crying. “Enough!” Ethan pulled me up, frowning at my hand. “Chloe, Scarlett just doesn’t know how to do chores. She meant well. Can’t you be more tolerant?” Julian applied burn ointment to my hand, looking at Chloe with blame. “Chloe, calm down. No need to fight with someone who has brain damage.” Caleb didn’t speak, but he stared at my hand worriedly. Chloe cried in anger and ran out. I pulled my hand back, lowered my eyes, tears trembling on my lashes. “Young Masters, go chase Miss Chloe. I shouldn’t have made her angry. If anything happens to her, I’ll pay with my life.” The men’s breath hitched. Their eyes filled with heartache. When they brought Chloe back, I was gone. Muddy footprints of men’s shoes led from the living room to my bedroom. The three men panicked. They rushed into my room. The bed was messy, chairs overturned. Scraps of my clothes were on the floor. A kidnapping scene. Ethan and Julian exploded, turning on Chloe. “Did you hire someone to kidnap Scarlett?” “Did you run away to distract us? Scarlett is still injured! Why are you so vicious?” Chloe shook her head frantically. “I didn’t! I don’t know!” “Brother, Julian, why do you care? You chose me over her when you planned the car accident! Why are you nervous now?” “You said I was your princess! Are you regretting it? Fine, I’ll leave too!” Chloe threw a tantrum. The men suppressed their emotions and comforted her. But their worry and guilt for me were obvious. Ethan thought of me when he saw vegetables. Julian thought of me when he saw laundry detergent. Caleb started avoiding Chloe. Tortured by their coldness, Chloe exploded. Eventually, they got tired of her. “Chloe, you took Scarlett’s place. What more do you want?” “She has brain damage. You know what happens if she gets kidnapped. Can’t you let it go?” “We ruined her for you. Is that not enough?” When Chloe cursed me to die again, their love for her vanished. They adopted my methods. Forced Chloe to eat gasoline lettuce and detergent noodles. Soaked her underwear in chili water. Chloe screamed, trying to win their pity again. “We were blinded by you. A fake is a fake. You can never replace Scarlett.” When Chloe was on her last breath, I returned. Looking at the disheveled Chloe in the maid’s room, I laughed. “Did you enjoy the game?” Chloe’s pupils shrank. She screamed. “You didn’t lose your memory! You were faking!” “Yes. I was faking from the start.” Terror on Chloe’s face turned into a maniacal grin. “Did you hear that? I told you she was faking!” The door opened. The three men walked in, faces grim. “Scarlett! You tricked us! How can you be so evil?” Chloe couldn’t wait. “Don’t let her leave! If she goes to the media, we’re done!” Thinking of that, the three men turned vicious. Ethan grabbed a data cable. Julian put on gloves. Caleb held duct tape. They approached me. “It’s your fault for being clever. If you stayed a maid, we wouldn’t be here!” Hypocrites. “Actually, the ones who are done… are you.” I smirked and revealed my trump card. “Come out.”

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One in the morning, and I was scrolling through a local community board when I saw an SOS post. [S]: Help me. I’m on the metro and I can’t get off. A few replies had already trickled in. [User774]: Pro tip: the train has to stop before you can get off. [NightOwl21]: Sounds like someone’s half asleep. Then the original poster, S, replied again. [S]: I’m not asleep! I know how a metro works! But this train has been moving nonstop for ten minutes! The trip between these two stations is only supposed to take four minutes! [User774]: Whoa, okay, stay calm. Maybe it’s a malfunction. Which line are you on? I can try to contact transit control for you. [S]: Riverton Metro, Line 2. I stared at the last reply, and my blood ran cold. I was on that train. 1. I glanced at the time on my phone: 1:11 AM. It had been exactly eleven minutes since I boarded. Line 2 was Riverton’s main commuter line. The trains were frequent, the stops close together. Running this long without stopping was definitely not right. If I hadn’t stumbled upon that post, lost in the endless scroll, I might not have even noticed. My fingers flew across the screen as I replied. [Ava91]: Which car are you in? I think I’m on the same train. He replied almost instantly. [S]: The last one. It’s just a habit. [Ava91]: Don’t move. I’m coming to find you. 2. Three minutes later, I found him in the rear car. He introduced himself as Sam, a sophomore in college. “Thank God,” he breathed, clutching his chest in relief. “Another living person.” “You have no idea,” he rambled, his words spilling out in a rush. “When I realized the train wasn’t stopping, especially after one in the morning… I was terrified. For a second, I thought I’d stepped into some creepypasta story, you know? Like I was in another dimension.” He looked at me, his eyes wide. “So, uh… what do we do now?” Looking into his wide, earnest eyes, I had no doubt he was just a college kid. He had the presence of mind to post on a forum but hadn’t thought to make a simple call for help. “Let’s start with the emergency line,” I suggested. A few more minutes had crawled by, and the train showed no signs of slowing down. A malfunction seemed like the most logical explanation. I dialed the six-digit number printed on a sticker by the door. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service.” The automated voice made me freeze. Did I misdial? It was only six digits. I hung up, double-checked the number, and carefully punched it in again. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service.” Again. And again. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…” After several failed attempts, the same robotic response echoed in the quiet car. Sam swallowed hard. “Ma’am… are you sure you’re dialing it right?” “I don’t think I’d get it wrong four times in a row,” I said, though a seed of doubt was planted. “Maybe it’s your phone,” Sam said, slapping his forehead as if struck by a brilliant idea. He pulled out his own phone. “Let me try.” “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in—” “NOT! IN! SERVICE!” a piercing shriek suddenly screamed from his phone, so loud and distorted that Sam nearly dropped it. His face went pale. “Ma’am… is my phone broken too?” At this point, my own composure was starting to fray. I was only three years older than him, just another corporate drone who’d been working for a year. I gripped a handrail, my knuckles white. “Why don’t you… check the post again? See what people are saying.” Sam fumbled with his phone, his hands shaking slightly. The thread had a dozen new replies. [CommuterDude]: Wow, another unlucky soul on board? [SleeplessInRiverton]: Hold on, does the metro even run this late? I thought they shut down at midnight. [CityDweller]: That’s only for the suburban lines. The main city lines in Riverton run until 2:30 AM. … [WorriedMom]: OP? Other commenter? Are you two okay? It’s been a while. [ScaryStoriesFan]: I’ve read enough of these online stories to know what happens next! They’ve crossed into a mysterious parallel dimension. Right now, they’re probably hiding from zombies or a vengeful ghost! Sam pointed a trembling finger at that last comment. “You don’t think he’s right, do you?” he whispered. “Probably not,” I said, pointing to another reply further down. “Look, this person says they called the emergency line for us.” Sam scrolled down. Sure enough, a user named SturdyCarrot had posted a few comments below. [SturdyCarrot]: Don’t panic, you two. I’ve already called it in. The staff said they’re running a system diagnostic now. [S]: Thank you so much! By the way, what’s the number you called? We keep trying, but it says it’s not in service. [SturdyCarrot]: It’s 618-999. “Son of a…” Sam swore under his breath. “The sticker on the wall here says 619-888.” “So we couldn’t get through because of a typo.” I sighed, shaking my head. “This whole world is held together with duct tape and a prayer.” Just like my boss, making me, a marketing specialist, write a technical grant proposal. That’s why I was on this damn train at one in the morning to begin with. A wave of relief washed over us. Knowing that help was on the way, we both relaxed, subconsciously pushing aside the memory of that bizarre shriek and one other, more fatal, inconsistency. 3. “Hello? Can you hear me?” A voice, crackling and distant, suddenly came through the train’s intercom. “Are there two passengers currently stranded on the train?” Sam, who had been dozing off, snapped awake. “Yes! Yes, that’s us! You finally found us!” “We sincerely apologize for this distressing experience,” the voice continued. “I will be performing an emergency stop shortly. After you disembark, you’ll need to walk approximately 600 yards down the track. You’ll see the next platform from there.” That sounded odd. “Why can’t you stop at the platform?” I asked. “I’m afraid the train’s system is completely compromised,” the voice replied. “A normal station stop is impossible.” “Whatever, man. As long as I can get off this thing and go home to bed, I don’t care where we stop,” Sam muttered, clearly done with the whole ordeal. “Understood. The train is now commencing an emergency stop. Please hold on tight.” The moment the words left the speaker, the train gave a violent, metallic lurch. And the lights went out. “Holy crap!” When the lights flickered back on, Sam and I were sprawled on the floor. “Ugh, a little warning would’ve been nice,” I grumbled, pushing myself up and dusting off my clothes. The train was still. A soft ding announced that the doors were open. “You may now exit the vehicle. Remember, the platform is straight ahead,” the voice said one last time, then fell silent. “Let’s go, let’s get out of here,” Sam said, eagerly jumping from the car onto the track bed. I looked out. The tunnel was a pitch-black maw, stretching into an endless void. There was no air movement, no sound. Something felt wrong, a cold knot tightening in my stomach, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Hey, Sam,” I called out. “Check your post. Has anyone else replied?” “Huh? Right now?” He looked back at me, confused. “We’re saved. Can’t it wait?” “Just let everyone know we’re okay.” “Fine, I’ll start a new thread,” he said, already typing. “But you should get off the train. We can walk and post at the same time.” He had a point. What if the train suddenly started moving again? I took a deep breath and swung one leg out of the car. The instant my foot left the train, a jolt like an electric current shot through my body. “I know what’s wrong!” I yelled. “Oh god, this is wrong!” Sam screamed at the exact same time. 4. In the next second, we scrambled back onto the train, shoving our way through the doors just as they began to slide shut. “You figured something out, didn’t you?” we asked each other in unison. I spoke first, my voice trembling slightly. “I just remembered something we completely overlooked.” “This train has been running for over half an hour. Not only have we not stopped at a station…” “We haven’t even seen a station,” Sam finished, his face ashen. Thirty minutes. Not a single glimpse of a platform, not even a flash of station lights in the darkness. Was this place still the city we knew? I had no idea what lay waiting for us in that dark tunnel, but my gut screamed that it was infinitely worse than staying on this train. Sam was shaking, his eyes wide with terror. He shoved his phone in my face. “That person, SturdyCarrot… they sent me a private message three minutes ago.” His finger pointed to a single, chilling line of text. “She said Line 2 was shut down for maintenance at 11 PM tonight.” “This train… it shouldn’t exist.” 5. The lights inside the car flickered violently, casting Sam’s face in a ghastly, greenish glow. The doors hissed shut, sealing us in. The intercom crackled back to life, but this time, it was the cold, automated voice from the phone call. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…” “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…” “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…” Sam’s voice was a choked whisper. “Are we… still alive?” A cold sweat trickled down my spine, but I forced myself to stay calm, for his sake as much as my own. “We’re alive,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “But I think… I think we’re in another timeline. Or something like it.” My mind raced. An idea sparked. “Wait! Your phone!” My phone had lost its signal ages ago, but Sam’s could still connect to that one community board. “Try to post again! Tell them what’s happened!” If we were trapped in some isolated space, two ordinary people like us stood no chance. But if an outside force could somehow “open” this space for us, maybe, just maybe, we had a shot. Sam’s eyes lit up with a sliver of hope. He scrambled to open the app. “It’s working! It’s really still working!” he exclaimed. “That’s so weird. No other apps connect, just this one.” “Don’t worry about weird. Just post,” I urged him. The train began to move again, pulling us deeper into the unknown darkness. [HELP! Experts needed! We’re trapped in another dimension!] Replies flooded in almost immediately. [User101]: Is this some kind of viral marketing stunt? [ScaryStoriesFan]: I KNEW IT! I TOLD YOU SO! This is a legit paranormal event! [SturdyCarrot]: Oh my god, thank goodness you’re okay! You vanished for a while, I was starting to think… [Writer wannabe]: This is a fascinating premise. OP, would you be willing to grant me the rights to write a novel based on your experience? [GoodGuyGreg]: Dude, really? Not the time. [SkepticSam]: You guys actually believe this? Come on. Amidst the noise of useless sympathy and outright disbelief, we found a beacon of hope. [Finn_Helps]: You’re on Metro Line 2? [Finn_Helps]: I studied this stuff with my uncle for a few years. I might be able to help. Tell me which station you got on at. I pointed at the screen, simultaneously slapping Sam’s thigh in excitement. “Him! Contact him, now!” “Ow, ow, okay! I’m typing!” Sam yelped. [S]: I got on at Willow Creek Station. He paused, then looked at me. “Where did you get on?” I met his gaze. “Willow Creek.” What a coincidence. It seemed the problem started right at the station. A new message from Finn appeared. [Finn_Helps]: Just as I thought. The problem is with the station itself. Willow Creek isn’t far from me. I’m on my way. Be there in five! 6. Five minutes later, as promised, Finn messaged us again. [Finn_Helps]: I’m here. And you were right. Something is definitely wrong with this place. [Finn_Helps]: But don’t worry. My uncle and I have dealt with something like this before. I can get you out. Finn’s words were a powerful sedative, calming our frayed nerves. The train was still speeding through the dark, but the suffocating panic had subsided. Sam let out a long, shuddering breath. “To be honest,” he admitted, “for a minute there, I thought maybe you weren’t human. This crazy stuff is happening, but you’ve been so calm.” I managed a weak smile. “I’m faking it. But maybe you should consider working on your own nerves, kid.” “At least we’re almost out of this,” I added. The truth was, I’d had my own suspicions about Sam. That he wasn’t human, or that something was wearing his skin. And I still did. Because a few minutes ago, I had glanced at our reflection in the dark train window. In the glass, Sam’s face was a complete blank. 7. I watched Sam closely, but his every move, every gesture, was perfectly normal. If I hadn’t seen that horrifying reflection, I would have just thought he was a fellow victim, another unlucky soul trapped with me. But what did it want? I didn’t know. All I could do was wait and see. For now, at least, it didn’t seem to want to harm me. “Hey, Finn says we need to go to the front of the train and find something,” Sam said, breaking the silence. To prove it, he held out his phone for me to see the messages. [Finn_Helps]: I’ve dealt with the anomaly at Willow Creek. Now you need to go to the operator’s cabin at the very front of the train. Find a specific object and destroy it. That will break the loop and return you to the real world. [S]: What is it? What does it look like? [Finn_Helps]: It’s hard to explain. But you’ll know it when you see it. It’s… obvious. Trust no one and nothing that tries to stop you. It’s all part of the illusion. Sam and I exchanged a look. “Let’s go,” I said. 8. We started from the last car, moving through the eight empty carriages. With every window we passed, our reflections ran alongside us. But out of the corner of my eye, Sam’s reflection was always just a fraction of a second behind his actual movements. Thankfully, our journey was unimpeded. No strange creatures, no ghostly apparitions. We made it all the way to the operator’s cabin without incident. “That was… too easy,” Sam panted, leaning against the wall. “I thought something was supposed to try and stop us.” I pulled my hand away from his, pretending to be annoyed. “Can you even pass a basic fitness test?” “A fitness test?” he asked, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Oh… uh, yeah. Yeah, I passed.” That momentary hesitation didn’t escape me. My heart hammered against my ribs. The cabin door was right in front of us. What was behind it? And what would the thing standing next to me do? My hand slipped into my pocket, fingers closing around the small eyebrow razor I’d forgotten to take out of my purse. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was all I had. “How do we open this?” Sam asked, fiddling with the locked door. On a whim, I stepped forward and knocked four times. The door clicked open. “Let’s go. Find ‘it’,” I said, starting to step inside. But Sam didn’t move. He grabbed my arm, his eyes fixed on me. “Wait,” he said. I spun around, the razor already in my hand, its tiny blade tracing a line across his neck. “What are you doing?!” he yelped. I kept my eyes locked on his. “Finn said to trust nothing that tries to stop us.” “What are you stopping me from?”

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1 The moment the car crashed, my brother’s choice was instant. He went for Dolores, my adopted sister. I was pinned under the airbag, a searing pain shooting up my left leg. Broken, for sure. “Dolores’s terrified of pain,” he pleaded, his voice urgent, “Just hold on, Ava.” Before I lost consciousness, the last thing I saw was him carrying Dolores away from the car, just moments before it burst into flames. When I woke up, I’d been kidnapped. A phone camera was pointed at my face. “Mr. Ashworth,” a gruff voice said, “if you want to see your sister again, get thirty million in cash. And you bring it yourself. The car crash didn’t finish her, but we might.” I looked up at the camera, my vision blurred by the blood trickling down my forehead. But then I heard Dolores’s tearful voice through the phone. “Oh, thank God, Ava’s alive! She survived a car explosion… she’s so lucky!” The worry in my brother’s eyes vanished in an instant. “Ava, when are you going to stop with these games? First the crash, now a kidnapping.” His voice was cold steel. “You’re pathetic. If you want to die so badly, do it somewhere I don’t have to see it.” The call ended. The kidnapper was furious. “If we can’t get the money, you’re useless. Beat her!” At that exact moment, a voice echoed in my mind. [Cannon Fodder True Daughter mission complete. Fake Daughter Counterattack Value at 95%. Detach from storyline upon death. Accept?] My sealed memories flooded back, sudden and sharp. All this pain, all this suffering… it was all to bring my parents back to life. I immediately chose to accept. In the next second, the system blocked all my pain receptors. As the steel pipe came down on me, the corners of my mouth lifted into a smile. The things I can’t take with me… I’m letting them all go. … [Key plot node “Rejection by Kin” has been achieved! Your role as cannon fodder is now ending!] [Upon death, the host will return to their original world. Reward: Parents revived! A happy life awaits you!] The memories of my real life surged through me like a broken dam. I remembered. I wasn’t from this world. I was a Contractor. To resurrect my parents, who had died in a car accident, I accepted this mission to play the part of a story’s disposable character. The previous contractors had all failed, unable to endure the constant abuse. To increase my chances of success, the system had sealed my true memories, making me believe I really was Vincent Ashworth’s sister. Watching my brother’s heart slowly turn toward Dolores had been agony. But now, the crushing weight on my chest was gone. I was filled with a joyful anticipation of death. The steel pipe fell again and again. The gash on my head bled freely. Thanks to the system, I felt nothing but the elation of a final curtain call. As the beatings continued, my smile grew wider, until a laugh escaped my lips. “Boss, there’s something wrong with this girl,” one of the thugs whispered to the leader. “Did we hit her too hard? Is she brain-damaged?” The leader’s eyes flashed with malice. “So, Vincent Ashworth thinks this kidnapping is fake? Fine. I’ll give him something real!” He grabbed a knife and moved toward my hand. I shifted my body, helpfully offering my neck instead. Just as the blade was about to fall, the door burst open. The lead kidnapper was sent flying, the knife skittering across the floor. A team of men swarmed in, quickly subduing the thugs. Leading them was Marcus. He was the bodyguard Vincent had assigned to me eight years ago. There was a time when he would have whipped himself fifty times if I so much as chipped a nail. But this time, he had watched me burn in a car, allowed kidnappers to take me, and let them beat me half to death. He probably only intervened because he’d have a hard time explaining my actual death. With the kidnappers restrained, Marcus looked down at me. “Can you get up?” I tried to move. I felt no pain, but the injuries were real. I was completely immobilized. Marcus frowned, but he reached down, half-dragging, half-carrying me out and into a car. He glanced at my bloodless face, looking like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. He seemed surprised that I wasn’t crying and screaming for my brother like I used to over the smallest scratch. “You really overdid it this time, didn’t you?” he said as he started the car. I didn’t even bother to open my eyes. He continued, talking to himself. “Did you really think this little pity party would make Mr. Ashworth care more about you than Miss Dolores? He hates these kinds of tricks. And on top of it all, you terrified Miss Dolores.” He paused. When I still didn’t react, his voice grew colder. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just be a good little rich girl? Why do you always have to provoke Miss Dolores? Consider this a lesson. You’d do well to remember it.” My eyelids fluttered. A bodyguard, paid by my family to protect me, was telling me that being kidnapped and beaten was a lesson I deserved? All to defend the girl he had a crush on. He’d forgotten who his real boss was. But none of that mattered anymore. The cannon fodder’s story was over. I was leaving. Vincent got the news and arrived at the hospital before me. When he saw the gruesome wound on my forehead, my swollen and deformed leg, and the dark bruises covering my skin, his face went pale. “Ava!” His voice was tight with panic. “Quick! Get Dr. Ramsey in here now!” “Don’t bother,” I said. My voice was a dry, hoarse whisper, but it was perfectly calm. “I refuse treatment.” 2 Vincent froze, clearly not expecting me to refuse. His shock quickly turned to anger. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re this injured and you won’t get treated? What are you trying to pull?” “Vincent, don’t be mad at her,” Dolores’s soft voice cut in. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have worn her necklace. I didn’t realize she would get so angry that she’d lose control of the car.” “I thought if I died, it would be my apology to her. I never expected you to save me first. By the time we went back for you, the car exploded. Vincent was frantic,” she continued, her voice filled with fake concern. “It’s a miracle you’re alive, Ava. Don’t scare him by refusing treatment.” The raw tension in Vincent’s face eased slightly. “Ava, I told her she could wear that necklace. You have so much. What’s the big deal about one necklace? Is it worth risking your life over? I can just buy you another one.” He went on, his voice hardening again. “Marcus told me the kidnapping was fake. If you were so badly hurt in the crash, how did you have the energy to stage a kidnapping instead of going to a hospital? I’m starting to think you’re actually insane.” I glanced at Marcus. He guiltily looked away. I had no idea what story he had spun for Vincent, but it was enough to convince him all my injuries came from the car crash. I stared at Vincent and asked in that same hoarse voice, “If you think I’m insane, why do you believe I’m capable of orchestrating all this?” “You’ve been spoiled and willful your whole life,” he shot back without thinking. “What aren’t you capable of?” I closed my eyes. Even though I knew who I really was, the memories of the last decade were still there. The words still hurt. When our parents were alive, I was the center of their world. Vincent had sworn he would protect me forever, that he would never let me feel an ounce of pain. “My sister deserves to have anything she wants,” he used to say. “As long as I’m here, you have the right to be willful.” But now, he was not only scolding me for it, but he’d also forgotten that the necklace Dolores wore couldn’t simply be bought. “That necklace,” I said softly, “was my eighteenth birthday present from you.” It was the last design our mother made before she died. Vincent had said he hoped that when I wore it, it would feel like Mom was still watching me grow up. I didn’t say that last part. There was no point. It wasn’t just the necklace. It was the loyalty of my bodyguard, the love of my brother. The things I couldn’t take with me, I was letting them all go. A flicker of guilt crossed Vincent’s face. Dolores quickly took the necklace off and held it out to me. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I didn’t know it was so important to you. Please don’t be mad at Vincent. Blame me…” The moment her fingers placed the chain in my hand, I summoned all my strength and threw it. The necklace flew out the open hospital window. The movement tore my wounds open. Blood began to seep through the bandages, but with no pain, all I registered was my face growing even paler. “Ava! Are you insane?” Vincent roared, his pupils constricting in shock. “Ah! The necklace!” Dolores shrieked. “It’s so expensive! What if it’s lost? How could you just throw away a gift from your brother? You’ll break his heart!” Vincent’s face was ashen with rage. “Marcus! Go find it!” Marcus spun on his heel and sprinted out of the room. Vincent’s eyes were filled with utter disappointment. “I was going to let this slide! But look at you! If you love making a scene so much, then fine! Have it your way!” He grabbed Dolores and turned to leave. When he didn’t hear me apologize, he glanced back. The sight made his blood run cold. “Ava! What are you doing? Get down from there!” 3 The moment they turned their backs, I had dragged myself to the window and hauled one leg over the sill. Only my swollen left leg remained inside. Vincent lunged for me. Just as his fingertips were about to brush the hem of my clothes, I let go and fell. “AVA!” Vincent’s scream was a raw, primal sound of terror. His heart stopped. THUMP. A heavy, muffled impact came from below, followed by Marcus’s shocked cry. “Miss Ashworth! You…” Marcus was kneeling on the ground in an awkward, sprawling position, his arms trembling. I was in his arms. He had caught me, the force of the impact knocking us both to the ground. Vincent practically fell down the stairs in his haste. Marcus gently laid me on the grass, remaining on one knee beside me, his face a ghostly white. He was clearly shaken to his core by my sudden suicide attempt. Seeing me safe in Marcus’s arms, Vincent’s heart, which had leaped into his throat, slowly settled back into his chest. Dolores followed him down, panting. “Ava, if you hate me that much, I’ll leave. You don’t have to play with your life like this. It’s only the third floor, you wouldn’t have died, but you really scared Vincent.” Her words instantly reignited Vincent’s anger. “First the crash, then the kidnapping, and now this! Ava, I am so disappointed in you!” he seethed. “Marcus, take her back to the house. Lock her in her room. No one is to enter or leave without my permission. Have Dr. Ramsey treat her there.” Back at the Ashworth estate, I was placed under house arrest. Medicine was forcibly injected into my veins, my wounds were dressed, and my leg was put in a cast. I couldn’t even die. I was in a terrible mood. “The necklace was found.” Vincent stood by my bed, placing a jewelry box on the nightstand. “You grew up with everything you could ever want. Dolores was passed around foster homes, half-starved, without a decent piece of clothing to her name.” “Now that she finally has a family, can’t you, as her older sister, be a little more generous? Is it so hard to let her have a few things?” Seeing my silence, he thought his words were getting through and softened his tone. “In the crash, Dolores’s hand was badly scraped. Scars aren’t good for a girl. Let’s just call it even.” A life-threatening injury versus a scraped hand. Even? I almost laughed. If he had just checked the car’s dashcam, he would have seen Dolores deliberately showing me the necklace to provoke me, then grabbing my arm and causing me to lose control. But just like every other time, Vincent didn’t bother to look for the truth. He unconditionally trusted Dolores. I used to cry and fight with him, unable to understand. Now, I understood perfectly. Under the influence of the “protagonist’s halo,” Vincent was suffering from a severe case of intelligence degradation. A CEO’s purpose, after all, is to serve the protagonist. I didn’t even look at him. My mind was consumed with one thought: how to die faster. Before coming to this world, I had a craving for a specific cake from a bakery across town. To surprise me, my parents drove through a storm to get it. A truck hit them. They died instantly. I tried to follow them by jumping into a lake. As the water filled my lungs, the system found me. [Complete the cannon fodder’s storyline, help the protagonist Dolores achieve her life’s counterattack, and you will earn a chance to reverse your parents’ accident.] My memories were sealed. I forgot who I was, only that I was the heiress of the Ashworth family, coddled and adored. Until I was fifteen, when my parents brought Dolores home, saying she was a playmate for me. A year later, a plane crash took my parents, and I fell into a deep depression. Crushed by grief and the immense pressure of running the family corporation, Vincent gradually transferred the patience and affection he once had for me to the more “sensible” Dolores. She had a talent for making him misunderstand me. I felt the love that was once exclusively mine slipping away. I screamed, I threw things, I did everything I could to make him believe me. The only result was that he grew more and more tired of me.

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My husband was a celebrated surgeon, a titan in his field. I was just a housewife. Ever since I was rejected from the residency program at State General Hospital thirty years ago, even I felt like I wasn’t good enough for him. It wasn’t until I was sorting through his belongings after he passed that I found it: an acceptance letter from State General. With my name on it. In his diary, he wrote that the Croft family had lost their eldest son saving his life. He owed their daughter, Lily, a life debt. Lily’s skills as a doctor were mediocre; taking my spot was her only real chance at a decent career. So, he stole my acceptance letter to settle his debt. I was supposed to be in an operating room, fighting to save lives. Instead, my husband trapped me in our home for three decades. My heart felt like it was being ground to dust. The world went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Seven days before the acceptance letter was due to arrive. Marcus was handing me a glass of milk laced with sleeping pills, a gentle smile on his face. This time, I didn’t drink it. 1 I stared at him. The concern in his eyes was so real. He reached out to feel my forehead. I flinched away. “I’m fine. Just a nightmare.” He paused, then chuckled. “You silly thing. It was just a bad dream.” He set the glass of milk on the table. “Here, drink this. Then I’ll go with you to the library. We need to get you ready for the medical licensing exams this fall. You’re going to ace them!” He’d said the exact same thing in my last life. He wasn’t going to help me study. He was going to steal my ID and the copy of my birth certificate from my bag so I couldn’t submit my residency paperwork on time. I picked up the glass. “Marcus,” I asked, “do you still have our family’s important documents and my ID?” “Of course,” he nodded. “Your parents trust me, so they gave them to me for safekeeping. Why?” “I’d like them back. I’m a grown woman now, I can’t keep relying on you for everything.” Marcus’s hand froze. He looked me over, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Before, I would have let him handle every little thing for me. “Sarah,” he said, his voice laced with hurt. “Don’t you trust me anymore?” “I trust you,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. “But I need to learn to be independent.” He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright. Drink your milk, and I’ll get them for you.” He watched me, his gaze fixed on the glass, urging me on. I brought the cup to my lips, and then my hand “slipped.” Milk cascaded down the front of my shirt. “Oops, I spilled it,” I said flatly. The smile on his face froze. “It’s nothing,” he recovered quickly. “I’ll get you a paper towel.” “Don’t bother. I’ll just go change.” I turned and went to my room, closing the door behind me. That milk was full of sleeping pills. In my past life, I drank it and slept for two straight days, missing the deadline to submit my physical exam results and background check materials. I peeled off the damp clothes. When I came out, Marcus had already cleaned up the mess. He handed me a manila folder. “It’s all in here.” I took it and pulled out my birth certificate and ID. Thirty years from now, these same documents would be sitting in a safe in his study, covered in a thick layer of dust. “Thanks.” I clutched the folder, went back to my room, and locked it in the very bottom of my trunk. Marcus’s voice followed me from the other side of the door. “Sarah, you seem a little different today.” I didn’t even turn around. “People change. It’s called growing up.” That night, as soon as my parents got home, I put the folder on the table. “Mom, Dad, these belong to us. From now on, we’ll keep them ourselves.” My parents exchanged a look but didn’t ask any questions. “Alright, honey. You’re all grown up now.” It was late, but my eyes were wide open. I couldn’t sleep. I heard a faint rustling from the house next door. It was Marcus, searching for something. A small, bitter smile touched my lips. I didn’t care what he was plotting. This time, no one was going to touch my future. The next morning, just after dawn, there was a knock on our door. Marcus’s voice called out, “Sarah, Lily’s here.” Lily Croft. In my last life, she was the one who stole my entire existence. I pulled the door open. She stood there, offering a shy, hesitant smile. She had a delicate constitution, always looking frail and sickly. In my past life, Marcus had moved heaven and earth to get her a position at that top-tier teaching hospital—a position countless medical students would have killed for. And I became a housewife. “Hey,” I said, stepping aside to let her in. In the living room, Marcus handed Lily a glass of water with honey stirred into it. His voice was gentle in a way I’d never heard before. “What brings you here so early?” Lily cradled the glass in both hands, her voice soft and weak. “My parents wanted me to ask about… you know, the hospital position…” “It’s almost settled,” Marcus reassured her. “Don’t worry. Your clinical scores are a little low, but you’ll get in. I promise.” As he spoke, his eyes never left her face. I knew that look all too well. In my last life, when he looked at me that way, I thought it was love. Now I knew it was just guilt and a desperate need to compensate. My mom came out of the kitchen and her face lit up when she saw Lily. “Lily, dear! Have you eaten?” “I have, Mrs. Jenkins.” “Marcus,” my mom said, giving him a pointed look, “give Lily your share of the porridge. She’s weak, she needs her strength.” Without a second thought, Marcus handed his bowl to her. “Here, eat up.” Lily shot a quick glance at me. “Oh, I couldn’t…” “It’s fine, you have it,” Marcus insisted, waving a hand. “I’m not picky.” I watched in silence. It was always like this. Everyone felt sorry for Lily. Everyone thought I should be the one to give way. “I’m done,” I said, putting down my chopsticks. I went to my room and shut the door. Outside, I heard my mother’s hushed voice. “What’s gotten into her?” Marcus’s voice was soft. “She’s probably just stressed. Don’t worry, I’ll go check on her.” He knocked. “Sarah, open up.” I ignored him. “Don’t be mad. I’ll make you more porridge later.” Still, I didn’t answer. He stood outside my door for a long time before finally walking away. I went to the window and saw him leaving with Lily. He tilted his head to speak to her, and she looked down, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. They looked like a real couple. And I was just the third wheel. Marcus didn’t come back all day. He finally stumbled in at dusk, looking exhausted. “Where were you?” I asked. “There was an emergency with Lily’s family. Her mom was having heart trouble, so I took them to the hospital.” “I see.” He looked at me. “Are you still mad about this morning?” “No.” “Lily’s not strong, and now her mom is sick…” He sighed. “We should help them out however we can.” He’d said the same thing in my last life. The Croft family used that excuse to chain him to them for a lifetime, and by extension, me too. “Marcus,” I said, looking at him directly. “Are you in love with Lily?” His body went rigid. “Sarah, what are you talking about?” “Then why are you better to her than you are to me?” I cut him off. “You give her your food, your attention. The second something happens with her family, you’re the first one there. Marcus, you can’t fool me.” He fell silent. After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “It’s not what you think. Our families… we have a long history. My dad told me the Crofts saved his life once.” “Saved his life?” “Yes. Lily’s older brother… he died saving me.” I watched him. There was no lie on his face. “So, how are you going to repay them?” I asked. He avoided my gaze. “I’ll figure something out.” I laughed coldly to myself. Your solution is to steal my life and hand it to her? “Marcus,” I said, each word deliberate and clear. “You can’t repay a debt with someone else’s life.” His face paled. “What are you trying to say?” “Nothing. I’m tired.” A life debt. What a heavy excuse. Marcus, you thought you were a hero. In reality, you were just a coward and a thief. The next day, I went to the county records office. In a yellowed police file, I found an incident report: [Subject, Nathan Croft, went swimming with Marcus Thorne and others at the reservoir. Subject, having consumed alcohol prior to entering the water, suffered a cramp and drowned.] The time, place, and people all matched. The so-called life debt was just a tragic accident. He’d nearly gotten dragged down himself. I made a copy of the file. On my way home, I saw Marcus and Lily talking outside his house. Lily’s eyes were red; she was crying, and Marcus was frantically trying to console her. I walked past without a word. “Sarah!” Marcus called out. I stopped. “Where did you go?” “The county archives.” When Lily saw me, she quickly wiped her tears and took a few steps back. “Sarah, please don’t misunderstand…” “Misunderstand what?” I asked. She was taken aback by my question. Marcus frowned. “Sarah, Lily’s having a hard time. There’s trouble at home.” “What does her family’s trouble have to do with me? The world doesn’t stop just because she’s upset.” “Sarah!” Marcus’s voice hardened. It was the first time he’d ever used my full name like that. “Why are you being like this?” “Because I used to be a fool who believed every word you said. Now I’m not. Is that what you can’t get used to?” Marcus’s lips moved, but no words came out. “It’s all my fault, Marcus…” Lily’s tears started falling again, and she turned and ran. But she was back the next day. This time she ran straight into our yard and collapsed in front of Marcus, sobbing. She said her dad’s business had failed, he was deep in debt, and they were about to lose their house. Marcus was beside himself with worry. He immediately offered her money. But he didn’t have any money. He paced back and forth, frantic, and then his eyes landed on my neck. On the silver locket my grandmother had given me. “Sarah,” he began, his voice dry. “Your locket… could we just… pawn it for now? I swear I’ll get it back for you!” Lily’s crying stopped for a second, her eyes darting toward the locket. “No. It was my grandmother’s.” I refused without a second thought. Marcus grew desperate. He stepped toward me. “Sarah, this is an emergency! Please, just think of it as a loan!” “It’s my property!” “Sarah!” he yelled, and lunged for my neck. His grip was strong. “Just give it to me! I promise I’ll get it back!” He wasn’t even looking at me. His other hand fumbled with the clasp on the chain. The metal bit into my skin, but no matter how much I struggled, I couldn’t break free. He ripped the locket from my neck. A raw, red line was already forming on my skin. He snatched the locket and, without a single glance at me, turned and pressed it into Lily’s hand. “Go, quickly!” Lily murmured something about how she couldn’t possibly accept, but her eyes were shining. I knew exactly what she was thinking. She had always been jealous of me. Jealous that my family was better off, that my grades were better, that I was better than her at everything. In her eyes, it was all so unfair. She believed she deserved a piece of everything I had. And she used her family’s supposed sacrifice as currency. When Marcus returned, he couldn’t meet my eyes. I looked down at the angry red mark on my neck. My skin burned, but a deep, chilling cold was spreading through my body. There were only three days left until the final deadline to submit my residency materials. I locked myself in my room, checking and re-checking every one of my documents. Marcus knocked a few times, but I didn’t open the door. On the night of the third day, the lock on my door was forced open. Marcus burst in, holding a pair of bolt cutters. “Sarah, give me your ID and birth certificate.” “Are you insane?” “I’m not insane.” His eyes were bloodshot. “Lily said if she can’t get into the program at State General, she’s going to kill herself.” “What does her life or death have to do with me?” “Sarah!” He took a step forward and grabbed my wrist. “I can’t let her die! I owe her!” “What you owe her, you pay back with your own life! Don’t you dare use mine!” “There’s no time!” he roared. “I promised her I would get her into that department!” He started tearing my room apart, throwing my medical books and papers everywhere. I tried to stop him, but he shoved me away. My head slammed against the corner of my desk, and blood started to flow immediately. He saw the blood and froze for a heartbeat. But only for a heartbeat. He quickly found the folder I’d hidden at the bottom of my trunk. He pulled out my ID and birth certificate and turned to leave. I scrambled up from the floor, my leg throbbing, and threw my arms around him from behind, holding on for dear life. “Marcus, if you walk out that door today, we are over. For good.” His body went stiff. “I’m sorry, Sarah.” One by one, he pried my fingers from his shirt. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” The door slammed shut. I heard the rattle of a chain as he locked my door from the outside. “Marcus! Marcus, open the door!” I pounded on the wood, my voice raw. The only answer was the sound of his footsteps fading away. I collapsed onto the floor. The blood from my forehead dripped into my eyes, turning my world red. I didn’t cry. I just pulled the spare cell phone from under my pillow and dialed 911. “Hello, police? I’m being held against my will. My address is…”

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Back when the boys in our exclusive enclave were still running around in diapers, I, the only girl, was inside, quietly studying. In the blink of an eye, we all inherited our family businesses. They still got together to shoot the shit and screw around. I, however, was already running an empire. My entire life, I was the moon everyone orbited around. Until my fiancé brought a girl home. Suddenly, all the men in our circle were tripping over themselves to praise her and put me down. The girl, spoiled rotten, had the audacity to scream at me. “You idiots! Have you really been pampering this two-faced tomboy for all these years?” The moment I heard that, I slapped her across the face. My fiancé jumped in to protect her, so I grabbed a wine bottle and smashed it over his head. Then I looked down at the adulterous pair huddled together and sneered, “Who the hell do you think you are, barking at me?” 1 The day of the big get-together, I heard a woman’s voice just as I was pushing open the door to the private room. Her tone was shrill and arrogant. “I’m telling you, Victoria Langdon is a total fake. She pretends to be one of the guys, but she’s the biggest snake of all!” “I’m a woman. I know how other women think!” “You guys are just too naive. You actually treat that manipulative bitch like she’s some kind of treasure!” “Preston, you can’t let her fool you!” The waiter who led me here knew who I was. Hearing this, he shot me a terrified look. A smirk played on my lips as I shoved the door open. The room was filled with the usual crowd, including my childhood friend and fiancé, Preston Rhodes. And the girl who had been speaking was the newcomer to our circle, Cassie Leigh. The second he saw me, Preston’s face went pale. He stood up with a guilty grin. “Tori, what are you doing here?” I shoved him aside and slapped Cassie clean across the face. Cassie shrieked, clutching her cheek as her head snapped to the side. The next second, I grabbed a bottle from the table and brought it down squarely on Preston’s head. Expensive liquor and shards of glass exploded everywhere. The paid hostesses screamed and dove into the arms of the other young masters, a picture of delicate, calculated fear. Cassie was the first to recover. Still holding her face, she pointed a finger at me and screeched, “Victoria Langdon, you hit me? Do you have any idea who my father is?” I maintained my polite, society-girl smile and slapped her again. I work out. A lot. Those two slaps were enough to knock her freshly done nose completely crooked. Seeing her pathetic state, my smile widened. “I don’t give a damn who your father is.” “Even if your dad was the goddamn President, if you insult me to my face, you’re the first one I’m going to hit.” With that, I kicked her in the stomach, sending her sprawling onto the sofa. Having dealt with the little bitch, I turned to the cause of all this: my fiancé, the eldest son of the Rhodes family, Preston. He was glaring at me, his face contorted with rage. “Victoria, don’t you go too far! We’re just friends! Do you have to be such a vicious bitch about everything?” I let out a cold laugh and swung my designer bag off the table, smashing it into his face. Then, I jabbed a finger at his nose. “Your so-called ‘friend’ is insulting your fiancée right in front of you, and not only do you say nothing, you practically applaud her?” “If you don’t respect me and don’t want this merger, fine. Go renounce your inheritance. Let your younger brother take over. The Langdons will be thrilled to form an alliance with him, and I promise I’ll never bother you again!” “But no, you can’t give up the Rhodes fortune, yet you still want to run around chasing ‘true love.’ Dream on!” I smashed the bag into his face again. The metal letters of the logo left two distinct impressions on his cheek: “D.B.” With a flick of my hair, I shot a meaningful glance at the other heirs lounging on the sofa. “The Feds are cracking down lately. Be careful you don’t end up in their crosshairs. We all grew up together, so I’m just giving you a friendly warning. Don’t be the one who sticks their neck out.” I wiped a smear of wine and blood off my bag and turned to leave. At the door, I casually snapped a picture of the scion of the Davies family. In the photo, his arms were wrapped around a girl whose dress was slipping off her shoulder, his face and collarbone smeared with bright red lipstick. Only then did I pull the door open and slam it shut behind me. 2 I was raised in the Enclave, the gilded cage of our city’s elite. I was the only girl in a sea of wild boys who were universally despised by their parents. While they were getting into fistfights and failing exams, I, the quiet, clever, top-of-my-class girl, became the neighborhood’s golden child. Even though those boys got an earful from their fathers every time they were punished—”Why can’t you be more like Victoria?”—they never held it against me. Instead, they treated me like a queen. After all, I was the only one who did my homework every day. They had to copy mine. And when the jocks from the private school next door got too rowdy, they needed me, their strategist, to plan their brawls. Otherwise, they’d lose. We fought side-by-side from age eight to eighteen. After that, we scattered—some to college, some abroad. As the economy boomed, so did our family businesses. My old playmates put on suits and became polished, respectable members of society. But among ourselves, things were supposed to be different. Until Cassie Leigh showed up. A top student from the National Arts Institute’s painting department. More importantly, she needed things from them, so she flattered them endlessly. They soaked it up like frogs in warm water, completely at ease. In contrast, I, the heiress with a fortune and background equal to their own, was gradually pushed to the side. I couldn’t have cared less. She was a plaything, a fleeting distraction. Once they were bored, they’d toss her aside. But now? Now Cassie Leigh dared to use me as conversational fodder to get closer to them? She dared to make me the punchline? Then she couldn’t blame me for getting physical. There are no secrets in the Enclave. The news that I had publicly assaulted Preston reached the Rhodes family by the next morning. Mrs. Rhodes arrived at my door with gifts, ready to apologize. Her younger son, Spencer, still in high school, stood behind her in his prep school uniform, holding several boxes of expensive tea, looking quiet and obedient. Mrs. Rhodes took my hand, her face full of remorse. “My dear, you’ve been wronged. You must come over for dinner tonight. I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise.” She held my hand tightly, and after a quick word with my mother, she whisked me away to the Rhodes’ house. A full spread was already on the table. Spencer got a pair of slippers for me from the cabinet and watched as I changed into them. I handed him my bag, and he put it away for me. Watching his long, pale fingers, I spoke suddenly. “Spencer, how old are you this year?” He flinched, surprised. “I’m nineteen.” I nodded and walked into the dining room. Over the years, the Rhodes Corporation had grown, and like us, they had bought a villa in the city’s most exclusive district. But everyone still preferred to live in the Enclave. It felt more like home. At the table, Mrs. Rhodes held my hand, her voice thick with apology. “It’s my fault. I didn’t raise my son right, letting him stand by while some outsider insulted you! My dear, I promise I will make this right!” I just smiled and shook my head. “Aunt Carol, I think Preston really likes Miss Leigh. Maybe we should just call it off. You can’t force these things.” Hearing this, Mrs. Rhodes panicked. The Langdon and Rhodes corporations were in the middle of a massive joint venture. How could they let some girl from nowhere ruin everything? Her voice rose. “That Cassie Leigh? What is she? Does she really think she’s worthy of being a Rhodes daughter-in-law? In her dreams! I knew she was trouble the second I saw her, all flirty and fake!” Just as she finished, the front door slammed open. It was Preston and Cassie. They were carrying piles of gift boxes, and Cassie had swapped her usual halter tops and hot pants for a demure white “wifey” dress. She must have heard Mrs. Rhodes’ shouting, because her eyes were red. She dropped the gifts and ran out of the house, sobbing. Preston started to go after her, but his mother’s furious voice stopped him cold. “If you take one step out that door, you will never be welcome in this house again!” Preston froze. After a long moment, he slowly turned to me, his eyes filled with a deep, unyielding hatred. I sighed and looked at Mrs. Rhodes. “You see, Aunt Carol? It’s not that I don’t want to marry your son. There’s just nothing left between us. The way he looks at me… it’s like he wishes I were dead.” I met Preston’s gaze. He probably didn’t understand the meaning behind my look. He was still glaring at me like I was the evil queen from a fairy tale. I just chuckled. “Instead of forcing this, why don’t we both take a step back? Our families’ business partnership continues, and he and I go our separate ways.” I smiled at Mrs. Rhodes. “And you will still be my godmother. From now on, I’m still your daughter.” I left it at that, stood up, grabbed my coat from the sofa, and walked to the entryway. Preston watched me, his expression a complicated mess. As if I’d just remembered something, I turned back to him. “As for you, Preston, I have something for you.” The next second, I slapped him across the face. Looking at his handsome, pathetic face, I sneered. “That was for breaking your promise and cheating on me.” I slapped him again. “And that was for letting Cassie Leigh humiliate me in front of our entire circle. From now on, I wish you and Cassie a lifetime of happiness. We are done.” With that, I grabbed my bag and walked out without a backward glance. 3 Whether Preston and I were married or not, our families’ business ties were unbreakable. On the day of his wedding, I arrived as expected. I was on my brother’s arm, wearing an understated black cocktail dress—elegant, but not attention-grabbing. My best friend was surprised to see me. “I can’t believe you actually came.” I picked up a glass of champagne, my smile calm and collected. “Langdon and Rhodes are business partners. I’m the future head of the Langdon Corporation. Why wouldn’t I be here? Besides, I’m Aunt Carol’s goddaughter. It’s my duty to be here to celebrate.” My friend nodded, then gestured toward a woman with frizzy hair across the room. “See her? That’s Cassie Leigh’s mother. You know why the Rhodes family let Cassie marry in so easily? Because she got pregnant. Her mother showed up and threatened to go to the press if they didn’t marry her daughter. With the Feds breathing down everyone’s necks lately, the Rhodes family can’t afford a scandal.” I looked over at the triumphant Mrs. Leigh, a smile playing on my lips. “Well, she’s quite the character herself. Pulled out all the stops to get her daughter into this family.” My friend nodded, about to say more, when a Rhodes family servant approached and asked me to go backstage to offer my good wishes to the bride. I agreed cheerfully. As Aunt Carol’s goddaughter, it was only proper. The servant led me to a small, out-of-the-way dressing room. Seeing Cassie inside, I raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I never thought you’d want to see me, your husband’s ‘ex-fiancée,’ on your big day.” The servant quietly closed the door, leaving us alone. Cassie laughed, lifting the skirt of her wedding gown. “I called you here to gloat. You looked down on me, didn’t you? Well, look at me now. I’m the eldest daughter-in-law of the Rhodes family. Preston’s wife!” She looked up at me, her eyes full of defiance. “You call yourself the queen of the Enclave, Victoria, but when it came down to it, not a single person stood up for you! All your ‘good friends’ stayed silent when I called you a manipulative bitch! Even your fiancé… I just had to crook my finger and he came running. You think you’re so special, but to them, you’re just a joke! I’m the one Preston worships!” She puffed out her chest, convinced she was the victor. I met her gaze in silence, then suddenly smiled. “If that’s what you want to believe, then I have nothing more to say.” I turned to leave, but Cassie grabbed my arm. “You’re not going anywhere!” I flung her hand off. She stumbled, tripped on the hem of her own dress, and fell to the floor with a shriek. As she screamed, a pool of blood began to seep through the white fabric of her gown. The dressing room door was thrown open. It was Cassie’s parents. Behind them were the Rhodes family, alerted by the commotion. Seeing her parents, Cassie burst into tears. “Mom! Victoria pushed me! Get me to a hospital!” The wedding descended into chaos. Servants scattered, spreading the story: the Langdon heiress, bitter about not marrying Preston, had attacked Cassie in her dressing room. Cassie, pregnant with the Rhodes heir, had been punched in the stomach and was probably having a miscarriage. The rumors, a mix of truth and lies, spread like wildfire.

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I was ready to go to war with the finance department over a $300 plane ticket. “Rules are rules. Not a single penny over budget,” the finance manager declared, her voice dripping with condescension. As a result, our company lost an eight-and-a-half-million-dollar contract. At the debriefing, the CEO was incandescent with rage. “Will someone please explain to me what the hell happened?” I stood up, met the eyes of everyone in the room, and said calmly, “It happened because I couldn’t afford the plane ticket to deliver the proposal to the client.” 01 The conference room was suffocatingly silent. The massive, polished mahogany table reflected every twisted and humiliated face around it. The echoes of CEO Mark Harrison’s roar still vibrated in the air. “Eight and a half million dollars!” He slammed the file in his hand onto the table. The thud was like a sledgehammer to the chest of everyone present. “A project we’ve been working on for six months, gone, right at the finish line!” “Can anyone give me an explanation?” No one dared to speak. The executives sat bolt upright, their eyes fixed on nothing, as if they’d all turned to stone. I sat at the very end of the table, in a corner that was almost always overlooked. I could feel the eyes of my direct supervisor, Sales Director John Miller, boring into me. His gaze was a frantic cocktail of anxiety, warning, and a kind of pathetic pleading. He mouthed the words silently: Stick to the plan. The “plan” was the story he had cornered me with in the breakroom just before the meeting, delivering it not as a request, but as an order. “Amber, you’re going to take the fall for this one. Just say you were careless and forgot to send the proposal before the deadline. The company won’t fire you. At worst, you’ll get a reprimand and lose your bonus. It’s okay for young people to make mistakes. It’s the attitude that counts.” I had just stared at his greasy face and his shifty, shameless eyes, and said nothing. Now, his eyes were flashing that same message again, a desperate urging that made my stomach turn. I lowered my gaze, my fingers tracing the cold edge of my phone under the table. My heart was a drum against my ribs, heavy and loud. I knew this was my only chance. Either I could continue to be the doormat I’d been for the past two years, the disposable pawn they pushed out to take the blame, or I could flip this whole goddamn table over. “Is no one going to speak?” The CEO’s voice was ice. His eyes, like a hawk’s, scanned each face. “John, you’re the sales director. You led this project. You tell me!” John flinched as if he’d been struck. He shot to his feet, beads of sweat instantly dotting his forehead. “Sir, the… the ultimate responsibility is mine. I failed to properly supervise.” He started by shouldering a meaningless sliver of blame, then pivoted. “However, there was a… a small hiccup in the execution. The employee responsible for delivering the proposal, Amber Lin, she…” He pointed at me. In an instant, every executive in the room swiveled their head, their gazes like searchlights, all fixed on me. There was scrutiny, contempt, a little bit of schadenfreude, and a whole lot of cold indifference. I was the eye of the storm. A flicker of relief crossed John’s face. He thought he’d successfully diverted the fire to the “temp.” He looked at me, his voice dripping with fake sympathy and a “magnanimous” boss’s tone. “Amber, why don’t you explain to the CEO what happened.” Under the weight of all those stares, I slowly got to my feet. My body was stiff from sitting for so long, but I straightened my spine. I pushed my black-framed glasses up the bridge of my nose, the lenses hiding the emotion in my eyes. “Mr. Harrison.” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the dead silence of the room, it was terrifyingly clear. I ignored John and looked directly at the man at the head of the table. I saw his brow furrowed in impatience and suspicion. “I can explain.” Then, I said the words I had practiced in my head a thousand times. “It happened because I couldn’t afford the plane ticket to deliver the proposal to the client.” One second. Two seconds. You could have heard a pin drop. Then, a wave of suppressed gasps and murmurs. I saw John’s face drain of all color, then flush a deep, mottled purple. He clearly hadn’t expected me, the quiet, head-down workhorse, to say something like that in this setting. Across from me, the finance manager, Susan Hayes, her face a mask of perfect makeup, went from shocked to crimson. “What nonsense are you spouting!” Her sharp voice shattered the room’s bizarre tension. She shot up, her finger with its perfectly manicured red nail practically jabbing me in the face. “Amber Lin, don’t you dare make baseless accusations! You messed up, and now you’re trying to blame the finance department?” “Company policy is company policy. Your flight was over budget. I was following the rules. What did I do wrong?” Her voice was high and shrill, filled with righteous indignation and the arrogance of someone who believes they are untouchable. She saw herself as the embodiment of “the rules.” I looked at her coldly, as if she were a clown. “Susan,” I said, my calm voice cutting through her tirade. “You want to talk about the rules? Fine. Let’s talk about the rules.” I pulled my phone from my pocket, opened the photo gallery, and walked to the center of the table. I held up the screen for everyone to see. “This is an expense report from three months ago, for entertaining clients from the Sterling Group. Total: four hundred and thirty-two dollars. I paid out of pocket. According to company policy, reimbursement should be processed within ten business days. It has now been over seventy days. I haven’t seen a dime.” “I followed up with your department three times. Each time, your assistant told me you were busy, that you didn’t have time to sign off on it.” I swiped to the next picture. “This is a stack of taxi receipts. Over the past six months, I worked overtime one hundred and twenty times to keep this project on track. I took a taxi home one hundred and twenty times. Total: one hundred and ninety-six dollars. All paid out of pocket. I submitted the collated receipts to you last week. Your response was that the company does not reimburse for any single trip under five dollars. Susan, is that actually a company policy?” My gaze was ice. Her lips trembled. She couldn’t get a word out. She’d clearly never imagined that a nobody like me would have kept all the evidence. I put my phone away and looked back at the CEO. “So, Mr. Harrison,” my voice was laced with a barely suppressed sneer, “when an employee has fronted over six hundred dollars of their own money and can’t get it back for months, why on earth would you expect her to have the capacity to front another three hundred dollars for a plane ticket?” “I didn’t have the money. That’s my explanation.” “A company that can’t even reimburse its employees in a timely manner expects them to have unlimited dedication and financial resources in a crisis. Don’t you think that’s a little… ridiculous?” I was finished. The room was deathly silent. I saw the sweat soaking the collar of John’s white shirt. I saw Susan’s face go from red to a ghastly white, her body swaying. And I saw the CEO, Mark Harrison, his face so dark it looked like it was about to storm. His gaze was no longer on me. It was fixed on Susan and John. He looked at them like they were already dead. 02 The meeting was adjourned. Or rather, it was adjourned for everyone but me. The executives filed out as if granted a pardon, none of them daring to look at me. John and Susan were pinned to their seats by Harrison’s parting shot—”You two, wait for me”—their faces ashen. Only I was politely escorted to a smaller conference room by the CEO’s assistant, a sharp, capable woman. “Ms. Lin, please wait here. The CEO will be with you shortly.” Her form of address had shifted from “Amber” to “Ms. Lin,” her tone from business-like to respectful. I nodded and sat alone in the empty room. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky was a dreary gray. I looked at my own blurry reflection in the glass: a pale girl with black-framed glasses, her expression unnervingly calm. I’d won the first round. But I knew this was just the beginning. The door was shoved open violently. John stormed in, locking the door behind him. His mask of civility was gone, replaced by a snarling, furious desperation. “Amber! Are you insane?” he hissed, spittle flying from his lips. “Who told you to say that? We had a deal!” I leaned back, disgusted, putting some distance between us. “Let me correct you, John. It wasn’t ‘we’ who had a deal. It was ‘you’ who unilaterally informed me that I was to be the scapegoat. When did I ever agree to that?” He was speechless for a moment, his face growing even uglier. “You! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What good does it do you to drag this in front of the CEO? Do you want to get fired?” He had moved on to naked threats. I looked at him and, to my own surprise, felt a small, bitter laugh bubble up. “Fired?” I repeated the word softly. “Fine. Go tell the CEO right now. Tell him that because I, Amber Lin, refused to be your scapegoat, you’re going to fire me. Go on. Say it.” John’s breath hitched. This was not the reaction he’d expected. I took off my glasses and slowly began to polish the lenses with a tissue, my movements deliberate and calm. “John, the proposal for this project had three core technical sections. The two most critical parts, the ‘Cloud-Based Dynamic Data Matching’ and the ‘User Behavior Prediction Model,’ you took from my email at eleven o’clock on Tuesday night, didn’t you? You said you needed to ‘polish’ them yourself to present to the CEO, to give the project a final review.” I looked up, my eyes behind the lenses like scalpels, slicing through his facade. “I just have one question for you. Those two sections… did you even understand them?” His pupils contracted. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. I saw the panic in his eyes. Of course he didn’t understand them. He was a fraud who had climbed the ladder by sucking up and stealing credit. He probably couldn’t even grasp the basic algorithms. His “polishing” consisted of deleting my name and typing his own. I continued, each word a nail in his coffin. “The final version submitted to the client was the one you edited. You deleted the two key appendices on risk mitigation from my original draft. You probably thought they were just fluff, too wordy, not befitting your ‘visionary’ leadership. If I’m not mistaken, the real reason the client rejected our bid wasn’t because we were late. It was because they saw a castrated, deeply flawed proposal. “John, you took something you didn’t even understand and used it to compete for an eight-and-a-half-million-dollar project. You tell me, who is really responsible for this failure?” John’s face shifted between shades of green and white. He pointed a trembling finger at me, shaking with rage and fear. “You… you…” He couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Threats? He had no leverage. Anger? He had no ground to stand on. For the first time, he was seeing that the subordinate he had pushed around and exploited at will had a strength he couldn’t control. She wasn’t a sheep. She was a wolf in waiting. “Fine… fine…” he finally managed to choke out, his eyes filled with venom. “Amber Lin, you just wait!” He turned and fled, practically stumbling over his own feet. Watching him go, I felt no thrill of victory, only a cold, bone-deep exhaustion. Fighting with people like him was draining. I sat there for a long time, until the tension in my body and mind began to ease. There was another knock on the door. It was the CEO’s assistant again. She handed me a document, her expression unreadable. “Ms. Lin, this is your temporary suspension notice. The CEO asks that you go home and rest while the company reaches a final decision.” I took the thin piece of paper. The cold, printed words announced another crisis in my career. But strangely, I felt calm. I knew this chess game wasn’t over yet. 03 The days of my suspension were harder than I’d expected. My apartment was small, with a single north-facing window that required the lights to be on even during the day. I cut off most contact with the outside world, leaving all the company group chats. But the rumors still seeped in like greasy sludge through the cracks of the internet. Someone sent me a screenshot from a private chat. “Did you hear? Amber in sales screwed up big time, lost that eight-mil project.” “That’s not all. I heard she talked back to the CEO in the debriefing. She’s crazy.” “People like her should just be fired. She’s a menace.” The most active person spreading these rumors had an unfamiliar profile picture. Someone told me it was the finance manager Susan’s nephew, who had just been hired. Susan herself was busy poisoning the well at the office. She was telling everyone I was incompetent, that I’d gotten by on luck and my true colors were finally showing. She claimed I had been trying to falsify my expense reports to cheat the company, and she, with her “eagle eyes,” had caught me. She painted herself as a dedicated hero, protecting the company from a corrupt employee. I was the villain. I stared at the screen, at the black-and-white lies, and felt no anger. Just a coldness that went to my bones. This was the corporate world. When you fall, there will always be people eager to tear at your flesh and spit on your bones. I turned off my phone. I didn’t want to see any more of it. Just then, the screen lit up. A new message. From David in the tech department. “Amber, don’t listen to the gossip. Get some rest. We all know what you’re capable of. The truth will come out.” David was one of the company’s few veteran engineers, a man in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair. He was quiet, a true tech expert, and one of the few people in the company I genuinely respected. When I first started, he had patiently helped me with a few technical problems. After I was moved under John’s supervision, we didn’t interact as much. But I knew he had always appreciated my work. At a time when I was being isolated and slandered by everyone, his simple words of encouragement were like a faint but warm beam of light in my dark room. My eyes started to burn. I replied, “Thank you, David.” He messaged back quickly. “Susan is acting so high and mighty because she just got her useless nephew a job in procurement. She’s trying to assert her authority, and you’re the example she’s making. She wants to show everyone she’s not to be trifled with. Be careful. She holds a grudge.” Reading that, my gratitude slowly hardened into something else. I understood. Susan’s cruelty wasn’t just her personality; it was a power play. I was just the chicken she was sacrificing to scare the monkeys. I replied, “I understand, David. Thank you for telling me.” I put down my phone and went to my desk, opening my laptop. The screen’s glow reflected on my expressionless face. I wasn’t here to be a sacrifice. If they wanted me dead, I was going to take a few of them down with me. I started to compile every digital trace I had left at that company over the past two years. The draft proposals John had taken with a casual “Let me see that.” The late-night emails with his commands to revise the plans. The meeting minutes where I had proposed Plan A, only to have him shoot it down and then present it as his own idea in another meeting. The personal projects and performance bonuses I had to give up to complete his last-minute “urgent” tasks. Emails, chat logs, file revision histories, server access logs… I was a detective, methodically gathering evidence of my own existence. I had once thought this evidence would rot on my hard drive forever. I had told myself so many times to just let it go, to endure it. But I realized now that endurance doesn’t earn you respect. It only earns you more exploitation. When they pushed me to the edge of the cliff, it was no longer a dead end. It was my battlefield. This crisis was, perhaps, truly an opportunity. An opportunity to settle all the old scores, with interest. 04 The days dragged on. The third day of my suspension, the fifth, the seventh. Silence from the company. It was as if they had forgotten I existed. The waiting was like being slowly cut with a dull knife. Sometimes I wondered if the CEO had already bought John and Susan’s story and was just planning to quietly let me go. If so, would I even have a chance to present my evidence? Anxiety grew like a weed in my solitude. But I forced myself to stay calm. I reviewed the files I had compiled, refining my narrative over and over. Whatever the outcome, I had to be prepared. On the afternoon of the eighth day, my phone rang. An unknown number. I hesitated, then answered. “Hello, is this Ms. Amber Lin?” A polite, controlled female voice. I recognized it. The CEO’s assistant. My heart skipped a beat. “Yes, this is she.” “Ms. Lin, hello. The CEO would like you to submit a detailed written report regarding the loss of the eight-and-a-half-million-dollar project.” My fingers tightened around the phone. “A written report?” “Yes. Please be completely factual and provide a detailed account of everything that happened, from the project’s inception until your suspension, including your personal analysis and perspective on the matter. Once the report is complete, please encrypt it and send it directly to the CEO’s private email. I will text you the address shortly. Also,” she paused, then added, “the CEO has stipulated that this report will not be seen by anyone else. Please feel free to speak your mind without any reservations.” After hanging up, I stood there, my heart pounding. I hadn’t received a termination letter. I had received this. A direct line to the top. Mark Harrison hadn’t fired me immediately. He hadn’t completely believed John and Susan. He was investigating. My mind raced. Why would the CEO of a company with over a thousand employees go to such trouble for a low-level employee? Was it because my “I can’t afford a plane ticket” line had struck a nerve? Or was the loss of eight and a half million dollars so significant that he had to get to the bottom of it? Probably a bit of both. But more likely, he had sensed something was off from my unusual behavior. A normally quiet employee suddenly launching a kamikaze attack on two mid-level managers in a high-level meeting. There had to be a deeper reason. A man like Harrison was suspicious and controlling. He would not tolerate an undercurrent in his company that he couldn’t control. He would have pulled my personnel file, my performance reviews. He would have seen that every project I was a part of became a success, and that the project lead was, without exception, John Miller. He would have seen that my performance ratings were always consistently average—never outstanding, never poor—as if carefully managed. He would have seen the stark contrast between the person who could write those brilliant proposals and the person who was quibbling over a plane ticket. He was suspicious. So, he needed a report from me, the person at the center of the storm. The raw, unfiltered version. He wanted to hear my side of the story. My chance had come. I took a deep breath, calming the excitement and nerves. I went to my computer and sat down. The sky outside had darkened, and the city lights were beginning to twinkle. I hadn’t turned on the lights in my room. Only the screen illuminated my face. I knew this report would decide my fate. And it would decide the fates of John and Susan as well. I cracked my knuckles. Then, I placed my hands on the keyboard. The battle had begun.

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1 I have an empire to inherit. All I wanted was an heir, not a husband. I scouted for a long time, but the men in my circle were all damaged goods. The only exception was Donovan Shaw, Westport’s golden boy. He was supposedly saving himself for the one that got away, so his ‘stock’ had to be top-tier. Then I heard he was playing the field, trying to make her jealous. That was my opening. I slipped into his life disguised as a broke, innocent girl. To make sure he didn’t burn himself out with others, I disrupted the market. I didn’t want his money. I let him have me for free. Everyone called me the ultimate doormat, convinced the prince was just using me as his personal plaything. Little did they know, I was just using him as my personal stud. The gossip spread like wildfire. Finally, the news came: his old flame was flying back home to reclaim her man. … In the velvet-draped private room, a pack of wealthy heirs was teasing Donovan. “Donovan, don’t tell me you’re actually falling for that charity case.” A smirk played on Donovan’s lips. “My girl works five jobs a day for me, you know. And every penny she makes, she spends on me.” I stood just outside the door, the corner of my mouth twitching. My father had been sued into oblivion by my mother for his affairs, forcing us to reluctantly inherit his billion-dollar fortune. I’d learned early on how selfish and faithless men could be. The last thing I wanted was to spend my money on one, so I crafted my persona as a poor, struggling girl. I’d bring him little gifts I’d “found,” cheap trinkets I’d scavenged. I almost thought Donovan was a man of deep feeling. But it only took a few lingering glances from me before he couldn’t control himself. Tonight, I carried a meal packed with every aphrodisiac and vitality booster my family’s nutritionist could think of. I entered the room, my head bowed timidly. “Donovan,” I whispered, “I made this for you. Please, try it.” One of his friends, a man with a nose for luxury, took a deep sniff. “Whoa, this is the real deal! Shaw, your little girlfriend must have spent a fortune. How many jobs did this cost her?” Donovan just smiled, not correcting him, and pulled me tighter against him. The smirks on his friends’ faces widened. “You’ve been on a dry spell for years, man. This little bird must have some serious tricks.” Donovan’s voice was low, but laced with pride. “She’s so eager to please, she won’t even let me wear anything.” I had to bite back a laugh. I’m trying to have your baby. Protection would defeat the whole purpose. I buried my face in his chest, pretending to be overwhelmed with shyness. Just then, the heavy, soundproof door to the room was kicked open with a violent bang. The room fell silent. All eyes turned to the entrance. Sabrina Vance. She was back early. I was the one who’d leaked my location to her. I was pregnant. It was time for my exit. Sabrina stormed in, snatched a bottle of champagne from a nearby ice bucket, and fixed her eyes on me. “So you’re the pathetic little homewrecking tramp.” Before the words had even settled, she swung the bottle. Bubbly champagne cascaded over my head, soaking me completely. Donovan let out a low chuckle, his gaze on Sabrina filled with indulgence. “Sabrina, still as wild as ever. We agreed we were broken up. You can’t tell me I’m not allowed to see other people.” He then patted my back gently, as if calming a frightened pet. “Startled you, didn’t she? Don’t worry, I’ve spoiled her rotten.” The jealousy in Sabrina’s eyes burned like fire. “Donovan is mine. Even if I’m not here, he’s still mine. Who gave you permission to touch him?” “Donovan,” she purred, her voice turning venomous, “the thought of her makes my skin crawl. Why don’t we make her so filthy that she’ll never have the nerve to show her face to you again?” The smile on Donovan’s face deepened. “Alright, princess. Anything you want. Just don’t take it too far.” On his cue, three burly men entered the room. Sabrina laughed, a cruel, triumphant sound. “Take her somewhere far away. I don’t want to get my eyes dirty.” Donovan crouched down in front of me, making no move to help. His voice was a whisper only I could hear. “Sabrina is always throwing these little tantrums. I need to show her that if she doesn’t come back, there are plenty of others willing to take her place.” “Thanks for taking care of my… needs these past few weeks. You’re not needed anymore.” I put on a mask of pure devastation, but inside, I was sighing with relief. Finally, I could make my getaway with the baby. He waved his hand dismissively, and the three brutes dragged me out of the room. They closed in, grinning as they started unbuckling their belts. The moment their rough, greasy hands touched the collar of my dress… A dull thud echoed in the hallway. Behind them stood two of my own bodyguards, tall and sharp in tailored suits. “Are you alright, Miss?” 2 I straightened up, smoothing my disheveled dress as I looked down at the three men now writhing on the floor. “We were just doing what we were paid to do!” one of them groaned. “Sabrina Vance, she told us to get some compromising photos and videos of you. Ah! It hurts!” “Please, let us go…” I walked over and crouched down. He flinched away, but a bodyguard’s shoe pinned him in place. I looked into his terrified eyes and pulled a small USB drive from my pocket. “No need for you to film anything,” I said coolly. “Take this back to her instead.” They exchanged bewildered glances before scrambling to their feet and fleeing. When I got home, my mother gasped. “Sweetheart, what happened? Who did this to you?” she cried. “Get the doctor, now!” Our family physician arrived within minutes to check on me. “The young lady is perfectly fine,” he assured her. “And the baby is healthy and strong.” My mother clutched her chest in relief. “Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness.” She beamed at me. “Between the two of us, we could wear a new set of jewels every day and still not make a dent in this fortune! Now we’ll finally have a little one to help us spend it.” I nodded. Donovan, for all his faults, had been prime breeding stock. The baby was in perfect health. The next morning, feeling light and unburdened, I went to work at our family’s auction house. The five jobs a day story was true, in a way. The empire my father left behind was vast: international hedge funds, hotel chains, tech parks… it all fell on my shoulders. I was always busy. It’s why everyone in high society knew of the Lockwood daughter, but no one knew my face. I couldn’t believe my luck when I walked in and saw Donovan and Sabrina. Sabrina’s expression froze. “You… you weren’t ruined?” Her eyes scanned the opulent surroundings. “What are you doing in a place like this? You work here? As a waitress?” She sneered. “Fine. You can serve us today.” A staff member started to step forward to explain, but withered under Sabrina’s glare. I simply waved my hand and offered a serene smile. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.” Business is business, after all. I led them to the VIP lounge. I was surprised when, during a mid-auction break, Donovan followed me out and pinned me against a wall in the corridor. His breath was hot against my ear. “Baby, I miss you. I’m coming to your apartment tonight.” A bitter laugh escaped me. His precious Sabrina was back, and he still couldn’t control himself. Men were all the same. The sound of my struggle brought Sabrina running. Her hand cracked across my face in a sharp slap. Donovan immediately backed away, his face a mask of innocence. “It was her! She came onto me.” Sabrina’s anger turned into a triumphant, chilling smile. She pointed a finger at my nose. “I knew it was you, you little witch. Well, I have a special gift for you at today’s auction.” She looked ecstatic. “That video of you being humiliated the other night? I sent it to the auction house. It’s been mixed in with today’s special lots.” “In a few minutes, when it flashes up on that big screen, your reputation will be destroyed. You’ll never be able to show your face in this city again.” She clearly thought the USB drive contained a video of my assault. I frowned slightly. “Miss Vance, what’s on that drive is…” Sabrina cut me off, her finger jabbing the air in front of my face. “Don’t you dare, you little tramp. If I don’t teach you a lesson today, my name isn’t Sabrina Vance.” The auction resumed shortly after. As the head of the house, I went on stage to give the opening remarks. Sabrina stared at me, a malicious smile playing on her lips. She leaned into Donovan’s ear, her voice just loud enough to be heard by those around them in the quiet room. “Tsk, tsk. Some people are picking through trash in a tiny apartment in the morning, and by night, they’re playing dress-up as a manager. I wonder how many beds she had to warm, how many boots she had to lick, to get that outfit and this position. Utterly pathetic.” The eyes of those nearby turned towards me, filled with amusement and speculation. I gave a slight bow and stepped down from the stage. Before I could return to my seat, Sabrina’s imperious voice called out. “Hey, you there. The manager.” I paused. “Miss Vance, how may I help you?” Sabrina looked me up and down, then her eyes locked onto the ring on my finger. She gasped dramatically. “That ring on your hand… That’s a Lockwood family heirloom! I recognize it. Eleanor Lockwood used to wear it.” Her shout drew immediate attention. A buzz of whispers filled the air. The auctioneer paused, looking over with a confused expression. Sabrina, reveling in the spotlight, stood up, her voice ringing with righteous indignation. “I knew it! I knew there was something fishy about you being here, pretending to be some manager. You’re sleeping with that old man, Marcus Lockwood!” 3 “Marcus Lockwood got taken to the cleaners by his wife in the divorce! He’s a washed-up loser now. You’re so desperate for money you’ll even latch onto someone old and broke like him. Is he keeping you? Is that ring his payoff for your services?” She grew more animated with every word, casting herself as a crusader for morality. “Poor Eleanor Lockwood. She finally got rid of one homewrecker, only for a younger, more shameless one like you to crawl into her ex-husband’s bed. Women like you are a disease!” The gazes of the surrounding guests turned sharp and judgmental. Donovan’s face had gone pale. He probably thought I was not only clinging to him but two-timing him with Marcus Lockwood. I stood there, absorbing her accusations, buffeted by the waves of scrutiny. The whole situation was utterly absurd. Sabrina shook off Donovan’s restraining hand and shouted towards the stage. “Wait! Before the auction continues, I think everyone here deserves to see the true face of this woman, who pretends to be so pure while climbing her way up on the backs of men.” Donovan looked utterly betrayed, his face colder than before. “I never thought you were this kind of person. I only let you near me because I thought you were clean.” I was speechless. Still, I tried to give them an out, for the sake of their own dignity. “Miss Vance, the content of that video… it’s really not suitable for public viewing. Showing it in a place like this won’t reflect well on Mr. Shaw, or on you. Are you absolutely certain you want to do this?” This only enraged her further. Her voice became shrill. “Scared now, are you? A little too late for that! You’re a coward who doesn’t have the guts to face what you’ve done. If you have the nerve to crawl into men’s beds and play your dirty games, you should have been prepared for a day like this.” The technician at the control booth looked at me, seeking confirmation. I sighed and gave a slight nod. The next second, the main screen lit up. People in the audience were already raising their phones to record. “Look, look, it’s starting!” “Wow, she really will do anything to get ahead. Donovan Shaw’s mistress and Marcus Lockwood’s side piece. This woman has quite the appetite.” “Appetite? She’s filthy. Sabrina Vance is doing a public service.” The video began to play. The image was blurry, showing only the back of a woman hunched over a sink in a bathroom. “See? Everyone, look at her!” Sabrina’s voice was distorted with manic glee. A vein throbbed in my temple. I slapped my hand on the table. “Hold on. To avoid any future misunderstandings, I need you both to sign this document.” I had an assistant bring over a liability waiver. After years in the business world, I was nothing if not cautious. I had a feeling they’d try to cause trouble for me after seeing the video, and a pre-signed release of liability was essential. They didn’t even glance at it before scrawling their signatures. “Stop wasting time and play the damn video!” Sabrina snapped. Then, she picked up a card from the table and dialed my mother’s number. “Eleanor, dear, it’s Sabrina. Donovan’s fiancée,” she cooed. “I have to tell you something urgent. There’s a seductress here wearing the Lockwood family’s sapphire ring. She must be one of the mistresses Marcus is keeping on the side.” 4 “She’s also latched onto my Donovan, and now she’s parading around Sovereign Auctions pretending to be a manager. It’s completely out of control! It’s happening in your own auction house! A mistress has come knocking on your door! You have to come down here and teach her a lesson.” On the other end of the line, my mother was silent for a few seconds. She was clearly confused, but she loved nothing more than an opportunity to gossip about my father. “Fine,” she said. “I’m on my way. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” I gestured for my staff to resume the playback. My mother, a whirlwind of designer fabric and righteous fury, arrived just as the video was about to start, her heels clicking like gunshots on the marble floor. “Where is she? Where is Marcus’s new tart? No, wait, is she number six or number seven by now? That dog will never learn.” Sabrina’s eyes lit up. She rushed to my mother’s side, linking their arms and guiding her to face the large screen. “Eleanor, don’t you worry. We just need to watch this video. Once you see it, you’ll understand just how depraved, how utterly worthless, this woman really is.” My mother, ever the fan of drama, completely forgot her purpose and glued her eyes to the screen. The file loaded. The progress bar crept across the screen. The video began to play. The room was dead silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting to pass judgment on me.

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After my divorce from Gideon Ford, my belly grew bigger by the day. My parents and the daughter they’d raised as their own were frantic, hounding me daily to get an abortion. In my last life, I did it. Furious at Gideon’s wandering eye, I went through with the procedure out of spite. He hated me for it, and any thought of reconciliation vanished. It wasn’t long before he married Serena, the girl who had taken my place. Then my family’s empire collapsed. Tainted by divorce and the abortion, I was an outcast. I drifted from place to place, my body wrecked by complications from the surgery, plagued by chronic illness. I died on a cold winter street, alone. Meanwhile, Gideon’s business flourished, expanding across the country. Serena jetted around the world, living a life of pampered ease. Everyone said I got what I deserved, that I was born to suffer. When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I did was call Gideon. This life, I’m keeping the baby. And I’m keeping the money. … “You’re divorced. Walking around with a baby bump is a disgrace. Listen to your mother and get rid of it.” “She’s right, Annalise,” Serena added, her voice syrupy sweet. “You already have a reputation for being rough around the edges, growing up in the countryside. Now, with this… people are saying you have no shame at all.” My mother and Serena took turns, their words like little barbs, desperate to push me into the clinic. Last time, their goading worked. I threw away my last bargaining chip. And Serena had seized her chance, becoming the next Mrs. Ford. After I died, she even forbade my parents from burying me in the family plot. A bitter, metallic taste filled my throat. Looking at Serena’s impatient eyes, I actually smiled. The next second, the front door burst open and Gideon stormed in. His breath came in ragged gasps. The man who was always the picture of calm control was pale with panic. “The baby… you didn’t… did you?” Before I could answer, Serena jumped in. “Gideon, don’t be mad at Annalise. It was a moment of weakness.” She spoke as if it were already a done deal, shooting me a warning glance while trying to comfort a suddenly rigid Gideon. “The baby is fine,” I said, cutting her off. The murderous look on Gideon’s face softened instantly. He rushed to my side, helping me to my feet and guiding me to his car. “Come home with me. We can talk this through properly.” In the rearview mirror, Serena’s face was a mask of livid, twisted rage. I let out a soft scoff. When I turned my head, my eyes fell on a tube of lipstick left on the passenger seat. It wasn’t mine. Gideon’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to say something. I calmly looked away. An awkward silence stretched between us before Gideon’s assessing gaze landed on my face. “You seem… different,” he said, his tone loaded with meaning. I just hummed in agreement. “Is that a bad thing?” Before, I was a live wire. I couldn’t tolerate a single speck of dust in my eye. If Serena so much as held his hand, I would raise hell. I’d scream at him, slap him, refuse his touch. I’d force him to write letters of apology, promising it would never happen again. In the beginning, he’d indulge me, coaxing and calming me down. But gradually, he grew tired of it. One day, in front of a house full of guests, he’d mocked me. “You were a stray they picked up out of guilt. Unloved by your mother or your father. Who do you think you are to act so high and mighty in front of me?” I had shattered like a clown in the spotlight, my heart splintering into a thousand pieces. He knew me too well; he knew exactly where to stick the knife to make it hurt the most. Humiliation and rage blinded me. Back then, I refused to believe I couldn’t live without him. So, at my furious insistence, we divorced. But after eighteen years in the countryside, my parents, though they’d brought me home, had never taught me how to stand on my own two feet. My life after the divorce was just as miserable as he’d predicted. Gideon watched me now, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, his phone rang. When he answered, my mother’s anxious voice crackled through the speaker. “Gideon, something’s wrong with Serena! She drove off in tears. I don’t know where she went. Can you please help me find her?” When it came to Serena, my mother always turned to Gideon, without a single thought for my feelings. It made sense, in a way. The two of them had practically grown up together, childhood sweethearts. Until I was found at eighteen and brought back into the family. Gideon had fallen for me at first sight. I remember standing in the grand foyer of the Ross mansion, wearing a threadbare coat and pants that were too short. A circle of impeccably dressed young men and women had surrounded me, laughing. My face burned with shame, but I held my back ramrod straight. It was Gideon who had silenced them, who had led me away to another room. After that, he started creating “accidental” encounters. He taught me the rules of high society, bought me elegant dresses and heels that fit. I was so insecure back then, convinced he was looking down on me. I acted like a hedgehog, bristling with spikes, lashing out at him with sarcasm. But Gideon never got angry. Instead, when others called me a “country bumpkin” or a “wild child,” he was the one who threw the punches to drive them away. So when we announced our engagement, it wasn’t just Serena who hated me. My own mother resented me for stealing the perfect husband she had picked for her darling daughter. “It’s okay,” I said now, my voice even. “If you need to go, go. I can take care of myself.” The reflection in the car window showed a face devoid of emotion. Gideon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his expression darkening. As if to spite me, he dropped me at the house and sped away with a roar of the engine. I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to get inside. The staff, unsurprised by my sudden return, took my coat. “Ma’am, your bath is drawn. Would you like to wash up?” one of them asked gently. I shook my head. “Not yet.” I wandered slowly through the villa, admiring the elegant decor and the antique furniture I’d personally chosen. I ended up at my vanity, gazing at the collection of priceless jewelry. In my last life, after the divorce, all of this had gone to Serena. When the scandal of a man marrying his former sister-in-law broke, my mother had blamed me. “What’s the use in blaming others when you didn’t cherish what you had? It’s better to keep it in the family, right?” My father acted as if it had nothing to do with him, staying out all hours of the night. Even though I was their only biological child, I wasn’t worth a fraction of Serena. The family affection I craved had always been nothing more than a joke to the outside world. Shaking off the memories, I soaked in a hot bath and then fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. I was jolted awake by a sharp click. The chandelier overhead suddenly blazed to life. Blinking away the sleep, I saw Gideon’s dark, stormy face looming over me. “Is it morning already?” I asked, my voice hoarse. A humorless laugh escaped him. “Didn’t I say we needed to talk? You went to sleep without waiting for me?” Before I could respond, he started explaining, as if seeking praise. “I found Serena outside a bar. I took her home and came straight back here.” The air hung silent for a moment. I realized he was waiting for my reaction. I nodded slowly, forcing a dry laugh. “That’s good.” “‘That’s good’?” he repeated, his voice cracking. He grabbed my wrist, his grip painfully tight. “Why did you come back? For the baby, or…” His eyes turned red. “Or for me?” A sharp sting shot up my arm. I winced. Neither, I thought. I came back for myself. Seeing his insistent gaze, I lied. “For both. I’m going to be a mother. It’s time I grew up, don’t you think?” As for him, it didn’t matter. As long as the money was good, he could do whatever he wanted. Just like before, when sleeping with me never stopped him from running off to comfort Serena. Gideon’s expression tightened, a flicker of loss in his eyes. “Annalise,” he murmured, “why do I feel like something’s off with you?” He glanced at my bored face, then down at his empty phone screen. A sudden surge of anger flooded him. “Do you have to be like this? So passive-aggressive, so lifeless! Isn’t it enough that I give you whatever you want? What more do you want from me?” I looked at him, feeling a wave of exhaustion. “I don’t want anything. You’re overthinking it.” But his expression didn’t soften. He stared at me for two long seconds, then stormed out, slamming the door behind him. In the days that followed, I focused on my pregnancy. Gideon was buried in work. We didn’t speak for nearly three months. I stopped being frugal. I spent money as I pleased. I even went with friends to a high-end male revue. Caught up in the fun, I impulsively stuffed a wad of cash into a dancer’s waistband. The dancer grinned, took my hand, and pressed a brief, stinging kiss to my knuckles. For a fleeting moment, I felt a flicker of understanding for why people were so drawn to infidelity. The next second, my phone rang. It was Gideon’s number. When I answered, I heard shuffling noises, and then Serena’s unsteady voice. “Annalise, Gideon’s drunk. Can you come and get him?” The dancer was now guiding my hand over his chiseled abs. I answered distractedly, “Just send a driver.” “It’s settled then! You have to come!” she insisted, and hung up. I sighed in annoyance but ended up going to the Ross house anyway. When I pushed the door open, the sight that greeted me was Serena, lying underneath Gideon. Her face was flushed with satisfaction. They were tangled together like two snakes in a death grip. Now I understood why she’d insisted I come myself. “Ah! Annalise!” Serena gasped, clutching a sheet to her chest as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry! Gideon and I… we were both so drunk.” Gideon seemed to snap out of a daze. He stared at me for a second, then shoved Serena away roughly. He lit a cigarette, his expression devoid of explanation, his eyes calm to the point of provocation. The scene threw me back in time. Ever since we’d married, Serena had been a ghost haunting our lives, seeping into every crack. My birthday, Valentine’s Day, our anniversary—she always found a way to interfere. And whenever I broke down, Gideon would lecture me. “Just be more understanding. I owe her this. It’ll stop once she comes to terms with it.” But Serena never came to terms with it. She spread rumors in our social circle, calling me a “homewrecker” and a “parasite.” She circulated old photos of me working as a waitress and handing out flyers. At my own birthday party, she played a recording of my abusive adoptive parents beating me. That day, I became the laughingstock of the city. But I had survived all of that. What was this, compared to everything else? So, to their utter astonishment, I walked over, picked up a jacket, and draped it over Serena’s bare shoulders. “I don’t blame you,” I said, my voice as gentle as an older sister’s. Then I turned to face Gideon, whose face was a thundercloud. “I saw a sapphire necklace I really like, darling,” I said earnestly. “Could you transfer ten million to my account?” “You’re not going to ask why?” Gideon’s eyes were a frightening shade of red. I kept the same understanding smile on my face. “You have your reasons. I get it.” Gideon’s tall frame seemed to rust over. His eyelashes trembled, and a bitter smile twisted his lips.

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