I impersonated my twin sister to marry the youngest son of the wealthy Pierce family. After the wedding, Julian Pierce saw me only as a gold-digging trophy wife. He took compromising photos of me and sent them to his frat boy group chat for laughs. He burned the lucky charm I prayed for at the cathedral for my sick foster mother. When anyone mentioned our marriage, his eyes dripped with sarcasm. “She’s desperate to lock me down. She marks the days on her calendar, counting down to our anniversary like it’s Christmas.” But he didn’t know. I wasn’t counting down to forever. I was counting down to the day my sister returned. The day I would return the title of “Mrs. Pierce” and disappear from his life forever. 1 Midnight. The sound of fabric tearing woke me up. I opened my eyes to feel Julian’s hand on my lower back. His touch was so cold I shivered. “You’re freezing…” His hand wandered lower with cruel intent, teasing every vulnerable spot. Julian had been drinking. When he kissed me, there was a faint scent of whiskey on his breath. I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling. I knew that resisting or begging would only fuel his aggression. Suddenly. The room was flooded with blinding light. I opened my eyes to see Julian pointing his phone camera directly at me. The lens focused on my face. It captured my silent endurance, my pain, the humiliation and panic of being exposed under the harsh light. “Julian!” I couldn’t help but cry out, “What are you doing?” Julian pulled away with a look of indifference. He adjusted his clothes and sent the photo to his group chat. “A bet is a bet. Who wanted to see her face?” The chat exploded with voice messages. “Damn, Jules! You actually did it.” “Your wife looks good like that. You’re a lucky man.” “Why just the face? Come on, let’s raise the stakes next time.” The click of a lighter. Julian walked out with a cigarette between his lips. His casual, mocking voice drifted through the crack in the door. “If it were Summer, I wouldn’t dream of it.” “But her? Doesn’t matter. Just giving the boys a show.” 2 The air smelled faintly of musk and tobacco. It was suffocating. I stiffly pulled the sheet up, trying to cover the shameful marks on my body. I pressed my hands over my eyes. But water still leaked through my fingers. This was my second month married to Julian Pierce. Or rather, impersonating my sister, Blair, to marry him. Blair and I are identical twins. But when we were born, our parents were struggling artists in Brooklyn. They kept the healthier sister, Blair, and left me on the steps of a church. I was raised by my foster mother, a woman with a bad leg and a heart of gold. Two months ago, Mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The treatment costs were astronomical. Just as we hit a dead end, my biological parents found me. They had made it big, becoming real estate moguls in Manhattan. But they didn’t find me to welcome me home. They found me because Blair had run away two days before her arranged marriage to the Pierce heir. She left only a note saying she’d return in three months. Desperate, my parents found me to take her place. In exchange, they would cover all of my foster mother’s medical bills. 3 In the bathroom. I scrubbed my skin under the freezing water, over and over. But I couldn’t wash away the feeling of him. One more month. Then I can leave. Blair’s flight back to New York is booked for next month. When she returns, the title of Mrs. Pierce goes back to its rightful owner. My biological parents promised me a huge settlement. I’ll take that money, grab my mom, and leave this city forever. At 3 AM. I saw a new post on Blair’s secret Instagram account. She never showed her face. It was a video of her skydiving in Dubai. From 13,000 feet, she leaped, arms spread like a bird in flight. Every strand of hair dancing in the wind screamed freedom. [4000 meters up. Reborn.] [Thanks, Mom and Dad, for these three months of freedom.] 4 I carried a thermos of chicken soup I’d simmered all morning to the hospital. The Vanderbilts—my biological family—were terrified I’d blow my cover, so they tried to stop me from visiting. I hadn’t seen Mom in two weeks. But as I entered the hospital lobby, I ran straight into Julian. He had his arm around a young woman. He was looking at a scrape on her arm with a tenderness I’d never seen. “Does it still hurt?” I tried to hide. Too late. The girl saw me and nudged Julian. “Jules, isn’t that… your wife?” Julian’s gaze snapped to me. Sharp. Cold. Like he wanted to pierce right through me. “What are you doing here?” He raised an eyebrow, disgust filling his eyes. “Stalking me?” “I’m not!” I shook my head frantically. “I came to…” I paused. I couldn’t explain. Julian looked at me with amusement. “To do what? Speak up.” I bit my lip, silent. The girl beside him let go of his arm, her voice soft and aggrieved. “My arm is fine, Jules. You should… go home with your sister-in-law—I mean, your wife.” She lowered her eyes. “I don’t want people to think I’m a homewrecker.” “You’re not.” Julian raised his voice, dripping with sarcasm. “A woman like her, who clawed her way into my bed for money?” “She doesn’t even qualify as a mistress.” “If my family hadn’t forced this marriage, do you think I’d look at her twice?” He wasn’t quiet. Passersby looked over, whispering. Words like “gold digger,” “shameless,” and “desperate” floated to my ears, burning my cheeks. I turned to leave in a panic. But he blocked me. Julian seemed determined to prove his loyalty to his crush by humiliating me. He stared at the thermos in my hand. “What’s this?” “Nothing…” He snatched it. Unscrewed the lid. Sneered. “Blair, do you really think a pot of soup makes you a wife?” “There’s a limit to being delusional.” “Do you think I’d drink this trash?” Before I could explain, he poured the soup down the front of my dress. It was warm, but the grease stained the white fabric, sticking wetly to my legs. Greasy and humiliating. He tossed the empty thermos at my feet. “Get lost.”

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My older sister never really liked me. She was cold, distant, and sometimes downright mean. She stole my toys. She tore up my homework. But after a building collapse that buried us both, everything changed. My sister suddenly became a different person. Chapter 1 My sister, Harper, is five years older than me. When Mom was giving birth to me, there were complications. Harper, just a toddler then, was terrified. She screamed and cried, yelling, “Put her back! I don’t want a bad sister!” It became a family joke, but the truth was, she never really warmed up to me. We were polar opposites. I loved Barbies; she loved Power Rangers. I loved singing and dancing; she loved kickboxing and MMA. By the time I was mastering ballet, she was a black belt in Taekwondo. Naturally, I never won a fight. My parents never gave her the “you’re the older sister, let her win” speech. Whenever I ran to them crying, clutching my bruised arm, they’d just shrug. “You poked the bear, kiddo. We can’t help you.” My “newborn protection period” expired the moment I learned to walk. I didn’t get the memo, though. I kept provoking her. After countless beatings, I finally understood the hierarchy of our household: Might makes right. And Harper was the Supreme Leader. Being adaptable, I tried sucking up to her. I’d bring her water, offer to massage her shoulders. Harper would just glare at me suspiciously. “Chloe, what are you plotting?” The audacity! I was just trying to survive! However, the Supreme Leader had a weakness: Grandma. Grandma raised Harper until I was born. She always took my side. “Harper, why did you make Chloe cry again?” “You’re the big sister, you need to know better.” And where was seven-year-old me? Hiding behind Grandma’s legs, chirping, “Yeah! Big sisters are supposed to be nice!” I was bold only because Harper wouldn’t hit me in front of Grandma. Our parents knew Harper felt sidelined, so they tried to balance it out at home. They told her: “It’s okay to be a kid sometimes.” They told me: “Sisters should support each other. Keep taddling, and you’re on your own.” I was a tyrant at Grandma’s house and a peasant in my own home. So, I learned quickly: apologize fast, apologize loud. Chapter 2 Harper was a vault. While I apologized at the speed of light, she kept her mouth shut tight. In third grade, we had a writing assignment: “My Hero.” I thought about it for a long time and wrote about Harper. I used every fancy adjective my eight-year-old brain knew. It was basically a fan letter. When I proudly showed it to her, she ripped it in half. “Garbage. Rewrite it.” I was devastated. I ran to Mom, sobbing. “Harper tore up my homework!” Mom patted my head. “It probably wasn’t very good then. Ask her to help you rewrite it.” “It was good! She did it on purpose!” Mom was busy. “Harper, help your sister.” So Harper dragged me back to our room and shoved a giant rainbow lollipop in my mouth. She never apologized. She just bribed me into silence. And I fell for it every time. I rewrote the essay. Harper said the first one was too superficial. “You have to praise a person’s character, not just their face,” she lectured. Later, that torn-up essay disappeared. I assumed I lost it and asked Mom for a new notebook. Chapter 3 I had a healthy amount of fear and respect for Harper. She was ruthless, quiet, and brilliant. As much as I hated to admit it, she was a genius. Just… icy. Especially to me. We rarely had a peaceful conversation. Our biggest fight happened on my twelfth birthday. Harper was a junior in high school, swamped with AP classes and SAT prep, but she came home for the party. Mom got me a huge cake with a pink bow. Lots of friends came. I got tons of gifts. Including one from the neighbor’s kid, Leo. It was an adorable teddy bear. Leo said his dad brought it back from London just for me. When Harper came home, I showed it to her. “Isn’t it cute?” She glanced at it and gave a dismissive nod. That night, after the guests left, I took the bear into Harper’s room. She was studying. She didn’t look up. “What?” I sat on her bed, swinging my legs. “When do you go back to school?” “Tomorrow.” “So soon?” I pouted. “Can’t you stay?” “No.” I slumped. She turned around and pulled a box from her backpack. “Happy Birthday.” I froze. She rarely gave me gifts. “Open it later.” “Thanks, Harper,” I stammered. She looked at the bear in my arms. “Who gave you that?” “Mr. Miller next door. From London.” Harper’s face changed instantly. She snatched the bear, opened the window, and threw it out. We lived on the first floor, so it landed in the bushes. “Why did you do that?!” I yelled. She closed the window calmly. “Don’t go get it.” I ignored her. I put her gift down and ran outside. Harper followed me. The bear was in the mud. Just as I stepped into the bushes, she grabbed my arm. “I said, leave it.” “Let go! It’s my birthday present!” I screamed, wrestling my arm free. I don’t know if I was strong or if she let go so she wouldn’t hurt me. But she beat me to the bear. She picked it up and ripped its head off. She held up the ruined toy. “You still want it?” I stared in shock, then stomped my foot. “Harper! What is wrong with you?!” Mom and Dad ran out. “What’s going on?” Harper didn’t say a word. She walked past us and dropped the shredded bear into the dumpster. “I hate you!” I shoved her and ran to my room. My parents held a family meeting in the living room that night. “Why did you throw away her bear?” Mom asked. “I didn’t like it,” Harper said, face blank. I pointed at her. “See?! She’s crazy!” They scolded her and told her to buy me a new one when she got a job. I went back to my room and threw a tantrum on my bed. Then I saw the box on my desk. I opened it. It was a vintage CCD digital camera. I was obsessed with photography back then. My parents’ phones were full of my selfies because they wouldn’t buy me a phone until middle school. I always begged to use Harper’s phone. She always said, “Dream on.” I never thought she remembered what I liked. That camera must have cost her months of allowance. My anger vanished. The next morning, before she left for school, I begged her to take a picture with me. She agreed on one condition. “Stay away from Mr. Miller and his family.” “Okay,” I promised. Two years later, the Millers moved away. That morning, as the garbage truck came, I saw a small black square fall out of the torn bear’s body. It looked like a camera lens. Chapter 4 Harper went to college out of state. Mom said she was independent. Low maintenance. Grandma died when I was in eighth grade. Harper cried for days. Her eyes were swollen shut. She knelt by Grandma’s grave, whispering secrets I couldn’t hear. Before my high school entrance exams, I got a package from Harper. It was a plush bear, similar to the one she destroyed. And a note: [Good luck, Chloe.] I sent her a selfie with the bear. [Received!] She replied: [Good.] Still so cold.

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Rumor has it my boss is whipped. He always uses “going home to my wife” as an excuse to skip company parties. At the celebration gala, a colleague gossiped, “Does Mr. Sterling not have to go home to his wife tonight?” The man tilted his chin in my direction: “Not tonight. My wife is right here.” Me: “…” Chapter 1 Approaching the office building, I realized I had the wrong ID badge. Staring at the name “CEO Ethan Sterling” printed on the card, I wanted to cry. Braving the cold wind, I called the culprit. A clear male voice answered quickly, “Hm?” “Um…” I hesitated, “Did you take my badge?” He chuckled softly. Then came his confirmation: “Yeah.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll wait for you downstairs, we can switch…” “No need.” Ethan said, “It’s freezing. Go up first. I’ll swipe in for you today.” I hesitated. “…Is that okay?” “Why wouldn’t it be?” After a few seconds of silence, I caved. “Fine, we’ll swap inside.” “Okay.” He was about to hang up. I stopped him. “Um… do you need me to swipe you in?” “I don’t need to swipe.” He answered, then added, “Also, I have a name. Or if you don’t want to use it, you have another title for me.” The word “Hubby” was on the tip of my tongue. My cheeks burned, and I hung up in a panic. CEO Ethan Sterling is my husband. This unbelievable fact becomes even more taboo inside the corporate walls. I carefully tucked away his badge and took the elevator to the 17th floor. I thought the badge incident was over. But as colleagues trickled into the office, they were all buzzing about something. Jessica, my neighbor and work bestie, was practically vibrating. “Someone saw Mr. Sterling swiping in downstairs this morning!” I froze. She continued, “Big shots like him don’t need to punch a clock, so everyone’s guessing he was swiping in for his wife.” I tried to argue, “Why assume it’s a wife?” She waved me over mysteriously. I leaned in and heard her whisper, “Actually, the rumor is that Mr. Sterling’s wife works right here in the company.” My knuckles turned white gripping the armrest. My heart in my throat, I tried to keep my voice steady. “Really?” “Who knows,” she shrugged. “But that’s the word on the street.” Secret shared, she returned to normal volume, laughing, “This really cements his reputation as being whipped. Waking up early just to swipe his wife in? Hilarious.” “…” I forced a laugh, but inside, I wasn’t smiling. Ethan Sterling being “whipped” is the most absurd rumor I’ve ever heard. I don’t even know how it started. Maybe one day Ethan used “going home to the wife” to dodge a boring dinner, and the reputation stuck. Perhaps he’s usually so cold and unapproachable that nobody questioned it. It made him seem human. Only I, his wife, know how laughable it is. Ethan Sterling, afraid of me? Going home to spend time with me? He just didn’t want to go to the party, so he used me as an excuse. Just like when he didn’t want an arranged marriage, so he hastily married me. I’ve always been just a shield. Chapter 2 The badge incident spiced up our dull work life. Colleagues were already begging the HR assistant to check the logs for whoever swiped in at that exact time to identify the mystery First Lady. While I was panicking, the culprit texted: [Where do we swap?] In the eye of the storm, I didn’t dare meet him. I screenshotted the chat about checking logs and sent it to him, worried: [Will they find out?] Ethan: [Only if they want to get fired.] “…” Such a cold tone. Such strong security. I instantly relaxed and replied to his previous text: [Let’s not swap yet. Talk at home.] I barely used my badge during the day anyway. Aside from entry and the cafeteria, it was useless. But Murphy’s Law struck. Halfway through the morning, my manager called me into his office. “Is your speech ready for later?” We had an internal awards ceremony, and as “Employee of the Month,” I had to say a few words. I nodded. I showed him my draft. He read it carefully, then looked at me. “Usually I wouldn’t check, but I heard Mr. Sterling is attending, so we need to be prepared.” I was stunned. “Mr. Sterling… is coming?” “Yes,” he looked at me again. “Remember to wear your badge on stage. Show some professionalism.” “…” I was speechless. Meeting his probing gaze, I laughed awkwardly. “Do I have to wear it?” “Why? Did you forget it?” “…” I brought it, but I also didn’t bring it. The manager sighed, took off his own badge, and handed it to me. “Just for show. Don’t let it happen again.” I nodded fervently and scurried out. At the 10 AM meeting, Ethan was indeed there. Wearing my manager’s badge, I carefully avoided looking at Ethan. He seemed to be just observing, chin in hand, silent. Soon it was my turn. I rehearsed the speech in my head, took the mic, and started speaking. Suddenly, I saw Ethan raise his phone. Like he was taking a picture. The lens was pointed at me. He zoomed in, focusing on something. Then, a bizarre scene unfolded— Following Ethan’s lead, other colleagues started taking pictures of me too. I took a deep breath. Under immense pressure and many lenses, I finished my speech. Applause erupted. I walked off stage and immediately grabbed my phone. Ethan had sent a message. A high-res close-up of my manager’s badge on my chest, with a confused text: [Why isn’t it my badge?] I rolled my eyes to the heavens. Wear his badge on stage? Did I have a death wish? I replied with an ellipsis. Ethan wisely stopped texting. The ceremony ended without disaster. Back at my desk, colleagues surrounded me, demanding I buy a round of drinks. I agreed. Suddenly, someone asked, “Sarah, can I borrow your nail clippers?” I nodded. While digging for my keys, I kept chatting. My fingers touched the cold metal. I pulled them out, about to hand them over— But the keyring had snagged the blue lanyard of the badge I hid in my bag. Clatter. Ethan Sterling’s ID badge fell out, right in front of everyone. Chapter 3 It landed face up. Ethan’s photo and name were staring at everyone. Someone sharp-eyed spotted it. “Why is Mr. Sterling’s badge here?” That sentence drew everyone’s attention instantly. “Oh my god, it really is his!” “It fell out of Sarah’s bag…” They looked at the badge, then at me. Faces full of shock and unspoken questions. The colleague who asked for clippers picked it up and handed it to me, joking, “Sarah, you’re not the CEO’s secret wife, are you?” I froze, about to deny it. The manager’s shout broke the tension. “Why are you all gathered here? Get back to work!” The crowd dispersed. I looked toward the voice and saw Ethan walking over with several department heads. The badge in my hand felt like burning coal. I thought, I can’t let them misunderstand. I have to explain. Even a lie. I was about to speak when Ethan stopped in front of my desk. He looked at me. “You texted me saying you found my badge?” I paused for a second. Then nodded quickly. “Yes, yes.” I handed it over with both hands. He took it easily, chuckling. “Employee of the Month, indeed. Good job.” My ears burned. The manager chimed in, praising my honesty and hard work. When the leaders left, I finally breathed. Jessica leaned in, whispering, “You scared me to death. I thought you and the boss had a thing.” I didn’t dare say I was scared too. I feigned annoyance. “Do you think that’s possible?” She scrutinized me. “Visually, you match. But he’s married.” I nodded. “A married man.” “I really want to know who his wife is.” Jessica gossiped, “She’s so low-key. If I were Mrs. Sterling, I’d tattoo it on my forehead.” I laughed. She showed me her phone. “The group chat is guessing. Sophie from Projects is a top contender.” I made a questioning noise. “Sophie is a rich girl ‘slumming it.’ Her family knows his family.” I nodded along. She continued, “But the favorite is still Chloe from the CEO’s office. Proximity is power.” I agreed. “True.” “And now you’re on the list!” She grabbed my shoulder, teasing, “Since his badge fell out of your bag, people are saying you two spent the night together.” “…” Chapter 4 The badge incident was a wake-up call. I thought nobody would suspect me. But one slip-up almost exposed everything. I decided to be more careful. When Ethan got home, I went up to him and separated our badges on the entry table. “From now on, keep yours away from mine.” He raised an eyebrow. “And keys.” I moved his keys away. “Grabbing the wrong set would be scary. Don’t put them together.” He looked down at me. “What else?” “Is your office mug still that couple’s one? Change it. I’ll buy you a better one.” The mug was a freebie I got. Not a luxury brand, definitely not fitting for a billionaire CEO, but he used it. Right on his desk. If anyone saw we had matching mugs, I’d be done for. “Should we tear the marriage license in half too?” “What?” He sighed. “Sarah, get this straight. We are married.” I pursed my lips. Ethan’s commanding aura works everywhere, including home. I summoned my courage. “We agreed the marriage wouldn’t interfere with my normal life.” He frowned. I said weakly, “Being Mrs. Sterling interferes with my normal life.” “Okay,” he conceded. “How long do you plan to hide it?” “…” I didn’t know. I just wanted to hide. “One year? Two?” Ethan asked. “Forever?” I didn’t dare say it, but I didn’t think we’d last forever. I argued quietly, “Why does everyone have to know?” “Because we are legally married.” Ethan looked me in the eye. “I don’t want to sneak around at work. I don’t want to be treated like a dirty secret. I don’t want to have no right to speak up when other guys chase you…” He took a deep breath. “Are those reasons enough?” Enough, but I didn’t want to compromise. The conversation ended badly. That night, lying in bed, I thought about the lonely look in his eyes. Was this a cold war? But I still didn’t want to go public. Two months in, and we still sleep in separate rooms. Except for a few nights at his parents’, we’ve never shared a bed. A loveless marriage of convenience. How could I claim the title of Mrs. Sterling? I didn’t even know when we’d divorce. Suddenly, a knock on the door. Only Ethan could be knocking at this hour. I cleared my throat. “Yes?” “Hm.” Just a sound. So I got up to open the door. I was shocked. Ethan was holding a pillow. He had just showered, smelling of expensive soap, hair soft and fluffy. He looked innocent, but his words were baffling. “I’m coming to sleep with you.” I watched him walk in. He placed his pillow, got under the covers, hands folded on his stomach. Quiet and obedient. I leaned against the door, confused. “What does this mean?” “It means fulfilling marital duties, wife.” “…”

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This was my fourth year as Spencer Sterling’s trophy girlfriend. He got bored and asked to break up. I planned to do my usual routine: cry, scream, threaten to end it all. Just like countless times before—perform deep devotion, satisfy his ego. But then, floating text appeared in the air before my eyes. The Comments. They said Spencer was serious this time. He had fallen for someone else. This was truly the last time we would meet. Instantly, I went silent. I shed a few silent tears while using my pinky finger to hook the stack of cash on the floor, rolling it into my palm and tucking it deep into my sleeve. Chapter 1 [The Male Lead is for real this time. The Supporting Female still thinks he’s flirting.] [Yeah, he just wants to dump her to chase our Princess. If she keeps clinging, it’s just pathetic.] I saw these floating comments three minutes ago, right when Spencer mentioned breaking up. Usually, when Spencer threatened a breakup, he was just throwing a tantrum, wanting to see me beg and say I couldn’t live without him. I had just brewed up some tears, ready to wail, when the text blocked the sound in my throat. I looked up. The man in front of me was as immaculate as ever in a black dress shirt, cuffs folded perfectly. But the watch on his wrist wasn’t the Patek Philippe I bought him for his birthday last year. It was a modest, mid-range brand. A brand the old Spencer never would have touched. The comments continued: [She has zero self-awareness. Can’t she see his dark face? Take the money and get lost, girl.] I looked into Spencer’s eyes. Eyes I had memorized over the last three years. This time, I didn’t need to squint to see the disgust. The eyes that used to fake affection no longer held my reflection. In that moment, I knew the comments were real. So, I choked back the scene I had prepared. My voice came out raspier than intended. “So, how much is the severance package?” Spencer froze, clearly not expecting that question. He pulled out a stack of bills and threw them into the air. Red hundred-dollar bills rained down on the floor. He looked at me coldly, waiting for my reaction. I pursed my lips and stood there. The text scrolled rapidly before my eyes: [Pick it up! This is your last chance to cash out!] [The Male Lead sees her true colors now. He’s humiliating her on purpose. He finally realizes that everyone else just wants his money, only our Princess is pure and uncorrupted.] [But didn’t she date him for three years? Breaking up this ugly… is the Male Lead really the good guy?] [What do you know? She’s just a gold digger. She took the money; she has no right to talk about dignity.] [As long as you’re alive, you have a right to dignity.] … While the comments argued, I had already squatted down, gathered the scattered bills, organized them neatly, and placed them in my purse. The comments were harsh, but they were right about one thing: this was my last payday from Spencer. I had to make it count. Maybe my scoop-and-go technique was too professional. When I turned to leave, I glanced back and saw Spencer’s face was dripping with darkness. Three years of intense training almost made me instinctively tear up and profess my love. But then more mocking comments floated by. I snapped out of it, bit my lip, and said dully, “Or… should you leave first?” Spencer didn’t speak. He stormed out, face cold as ice. I watched his back, thinking about the designer bags and jewelry he gave me over the years. My heart actually ached. Only now did I dare let the tears blur my vision. This might really be the last time. Goodbye, Spencer Sterling. Chapter 2 [Whoa, why does the Supporting Female look actually heartbroken?] [Doesn’t she only care about money? Why is she crying like that?] I saw the comments and quickly wiped my face. When I looked up, Spencer had turned around in the distance. He was looking at me, his expression complicated. Terrified he might ask for a refund, I turned sideways and power-walked away. My white sneaker stepped into a loose paving stone, splashing dirty mud all over the toe. I admit, my exit was a bit messy. But at least I got away safely. That night, in my rental apartment, I counted cash while sending out resumes. I deposited the $7,000 severance Spencer gave me immediately after leaving his gated community. If he had given me just $3,000 more, I would have hit my savings goal of $500,000. The economy is bad. I didn’t dare invest in stocks. I put it all in CDs. Low interest, but zero risk. After balancing the ledger, I lay on the bed and finally had time to be sad. I missed the money, sure. But I missed Spencer, too. When I graduated, I got scammed out of my savings by a fake landlord, then worked an unpaid internship where they fired me on the last day. I was starving when I met Spencer. Maybe when your luck hits rock bottom, it bounces. I was plain, but I was exactly Spencer’s type. He was generous. Ten grand a month allowance, plus expensive gifts. I couldn’t repay him with money, so I repaid him with ego boosts. He liked me clingy. He liked me helpless. I even took acting classes to provide better emotional value. I could turn 30% affection into 100% devotion. But luck comes fast and leaves faster. I stared at the ceiling, wondering where I’d find work tomorrow. Then, the strange text started scrolling again. [What is the Male Lead doing? He let Princess find out about the Supporting Female. Now Princess is mad. Poor baby.] [If I recall, the Supporting Female dated him first. Why is the Heroine mad?] [Stop being a troll. She was just a canary. A sugar baby doesn’t count as a girlfriend.] The comments started fighting. My eyes were getting blurry. Then, a bright red comment stopped the war. [The Male Lead is crazy. He wants to bring the Supporting Female in to make Princess jealous? Let’s see if she has the shame to show up.] The second the text vanished, my phone rang. “Come to Club Vane. Room 305,” Spencer said. Short and concise. I remembered the last comment and felt guilty. “We broke up, maybe it’s not…” “Five thousand.” “But…” “Fifteen.” “However…” “Thirty thousand.” “I’m on my way.” I hopped on my bicycle and rode against the night wind toward the location. The comments floating above the road were roasting me alive. Let them roast. Thirty grand for a cameo? They’d run faster than me if they had the chance. Spencer wanted me to act like a simp in front of the Heroine. At this point, I knew my place. But the moment I walked into the VIP room, the “Honey” on my lips froze. Because the person standing there, the “Princess” the comments worshipped… Was Jenna. The fake heiress who kicked me out of my own biological family. Chapter 3 Facing Jenna’s disdainful glare, the thirty grand suddenly didn’t seem worth it. I went silent. Spencer called me over. I responded absentmindedly. Sensing my lack of enthusiasm, Spencer’s face darkened. He ignored Jenna, who he was supposedly obsessed with, and frowned at me. Until the comments mentioned the Heroine again. He reacted like a puppet. He grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, right in front of Jenna. Then, as expected, Jenna’s eyes turned red with anger. In that instant, I felt so tired. I put my hand on his chest and pushed us an arm’s length apart. I dug around in my pocket for a while, finally pulling out a set of keys and tossing them on the table. “I only came to return the keys you left at my place.” I tried to sound relieved, but my voice shook. I didn’t actually know what keys these were—Spencer’s front door was biometric—but I bet Spencer didn’t know either. Someone snickered. Spencer’s friends. They always looked down on me. Like the scrolling text, they probably thought I was playing hard to get. A nameless fire rose in my chest. I pointed a trembling finger at Spencer. “A good ex should be like a corpse—dead and silent! Don’t contact me again, do you understand?!” I didn’t have the courage to look at him again. I turned and ran. I ran all the way out of the club before I dared to lean against a wall and sob. Spencer dumping me was fine. But choosing Jenna? That hurt. When Jenna stole my parents and kicked me out of the house, I was seventeen. Half of the hunger and humiliation I suffered these past years was her doing. I was waiting to save enough capital to pull a “revenge of the fallen heiress” plot. How did Spencer become her backer? I bit my lip, afraid to make a sound, shaking with silent sobs. The floating comments went quiet. [Damn, why does she look actually pitiful…] [Yeah, I’m kinda feeling bad for her.] What do you mean kinda pitiful? I am objectively miserable, okay? Finally, I couldn’t hold it. I squatted down and wailed. A tissue appeared in front of my face. The person holding it had one hand over his ear, looking at me with a complicated expression. “You love him that much? Enough to torture yourself?” It was Sawyer Sterling. Spencer’s younger brother. I didn’t speak. He squatted down and wiped my messy face. “I used to think you were just a glutton who loved money. I didn’t know you could love so genuinely. You cursed him out in public just to help him move on.” His tone was awkward, a blush creeping up his neck. He thought for a long time before speaking again. “Chloe, be with me. I’ll treat you better than my brother did.” I looked up, staring at him. He scratched his head nervously. “I mean it. Be my girlfriend. I won’t let anyone bully you. Whatever my brother gave you, I’ll give you too.” “Ten grand a month?” “Deal.” “Okay. We’re dating.” Chapter 4 Sawyer was visibly stunned by my speed. Then, a huge grin spread across his face. Before he could speak, a tall figure stepped out of the shadows. [Haha, the Male Lead thinks she loves him so much. He bet his friends she’d reject Sawyer instantly.] I realized Spencer had been watching me cry the whole time. He watched coldly until I accepted Sawyer. Then he stepped out. He looked at me, then at my hand tightly gripping Sawyer’s. He took a step forward. Sawyer stepped in front of me, grinning at his brother. “Bro, here to congratulate me? You always told Mom and Dad I needed a girlfriend. Now I found one. You should be happy.” Spencer’s face was grim. Sawyer ignored it. “No need for speeches. I want alone time with my girlfriend.” “Your girlfriend?” Spencer sounded like he was grinding his teeth. Sawyer acted oblivious, lifting our joined hands. “Of course she’s my girlfriend.” When Spencer saw the ring-free fingers interlocked with his brother’s, his pupils shrank. The rage in his eyes was almost tangible. It scared me. I instinctively hid behind Sawyer. The comments overhead went wild: [Male Lead thought she was loyal. They broke up this morning and she’s already sold the couple rings.] [Told you she’s a gold digger. Only our Princess truly loves him for him.] Spencer looked even worse after that comment appeared. Sawyer, enjoying the chaos, pulled me from behind his back and wrapped an arm around me. “She’s mine now,” he taunted. “What, you gonna stay and watch us make out?” He grabbed the back of my head and leaned in like he was going to kiss me. I went stiff. I saw Spencer’s fist clench. Just then, Jenna appeared and grabbed Spencer’s arm. “You’ve been gone so long. It’s boring without you.” She ignored us completely, focusing her whining on Spencer. Spencer’s irritation visibly smoothed out. He put on a gentle mask, rubbed Jenna’s hair, and said softly, “Just getting some air. Sorry to keep you waiting.” As a canary who spent three years pleasing him, I had never seen him this gentle. Sawyer tickled my palm. I looked up. He rolled his eyes at them and mouthed: They hooked up ages ago. Homewreckers deserve each other. But my brother treats her like a treasure. I laughed at his expression, then remembered who was standing there and frowned again.

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My third year with Sebastian Vanderbilt, the Crown Prince of New York, was still strictly transactional. Dinner: $5,000. Date: $20,000. Overnight: $50,000. Then one day, I found out I was pregnant. After a few seconds of buffering, I looked at the aloof, aristocratic man across from me and asked bluntly: “Bro, do you have a hundred million dollars?” Chapter 1 Sebastian was stunned. He was wearing oversized hospital pajamas, but his sharp features showed no sign of illness. His eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?” “Why ask that all of a sudden?” He smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes that didn’t match his sickly appearance. “Trying to earn a hundred million the hard way?” “Cough, cough.” I almost choked. “Of course not. I mean…” The phrase “If I give you a baby, will you give me a hundred million dollars?” was on the tip of my tongue, but his face darkened. “If it’s not that, don’t say it.” “We have nothing else to talk about.” His coldness sent a chill through my heart. Tsk. I forgot Sebastian was a militant “No Marriage, No Kids” guy. We had an agreement: No feelings, no love, just transactions. If he found out about the baby… He’d assume I trapped him for money. Forget a hundred million; he might sue me for everything I’ve earned so far. Forget it. I quietly crumpled the OB-GYN report in my hand and hid it behind my back. “Oh, never mind then.” Chapter 2 Sebastian didn’t press further. He had no emotional attachment to me. He called me over for one reason: to be his dinner buddy. And his bed buddy. But this month was tricky. He had already used up his $500,000 monthly limit by the 15th. So… The man pinned me to the hospital bed, his kisses trailing down my neck. Just as he was about to undo my button, I jolted. I scrambled three feet away. “You’re out of credit for the month!” “No more of that!” Sebastian looked annoyed. He stared at me, radiating “rich guy” energy. “I’ll pay extra!” “No!” Pay extra?! What if he jostles the baby loose! Usually, I’d jump at money, but this time I refused firmly. Sebastian looked at me suspiciously. My heart raced. I blurted out some nonsense: “I… I’m not feeling well this month.” “Plus, work is crazy. I can only provide companionship when you’re sick. No extras!” I turned to leave, terrified he’d spot the secret in my bag. He grabbed my wrist, his voice icy. “So I have to be sick to see you this month?” Sebastian worked out religiously. He was built like a tank. I nodded vigorously. “Yes! Sick visits only!” Chapter 3 Sebastian’s eyes darkened. He looked like he wanted to argue. Just then, a doctor walked in with a chart. “Mr. Vanderbilt, you just caught a cold from taking a cold shower. Nothing serious. You can be discharged.” Cold shower? In the middle of winter? Is he psycho? I looked at Sebastian like he was an idiot. Silently praying the baby gets his looks but definitely not his brains! “Okay, you’re discharged.” “No more meetings this month!” “See you next month, Mr. Vanderbilt!” See you next month my ass! I fled to my apartment. Packed a bag. Planned to find a place Sebastian couldn’t find to hide and raise the baby. My best friend, Chloe, was shocked. “You… you’re keeping it?” “Yeah!” I stuffed clothes into my suitcase without hesitation. “You know I’m an orphan. No family.” “I was planning to save enough for IVF anyway to make my own family.” “Now, family has arrived naturally!” Plus, with Sebastian’s genes, the kid would be gorgeous. I made up my mind and opened the airline app. Chloe hesitated. “The month isn’t over. What if Sebastian gets ‘sick’ again…” “Impossible,” I waved my hand. “He’s healthy as an ox. How could he get sick twice in a month…” My phone rang. It was Sebastian’s assistant. “Miss Lin, Mr. Vanderbilt has fallen ill again. Please come to the hospital.” As if fearing I wouldn’t come, he added: “This is included in the monthly package. Please hurry.” Chapter 4 Same hospital, same room. I ran there seven times in one week. Yes. Once a day. Fever today, flu tomorrow, rash the next day, sprained ankle after that… After a week of this, I looked at the battered man in the bed. For the first time, I questioned the physical competence of this business titan. “Bro, is your cerebellum okay? Are you uncoordinated?” How do you sprain your ankle three times leaving the hospital? And twist your arm? Sebastian looked at me coldly. “You doubting my ability?” “No,” I said honestly. I was doubting his IQ. Is stupidity hereditary? I stared at him suspiciously. Scanning him from head to toe, my eyes unconsciously stopped at a certain area— He suddenly pulled me hard. His scent overwhelmed me. Before I could react, Sebastian grabbed my chin and kissed me fiercely. “Mmph… mmph…” He was too rough. My morning sickness was bad lately. My stomach churned violently. I struggled to push him away. He held me tighter, crushing my lips while growling: “Can’t even touch you…” “Ugh!” Splash. I threw up. All over Sebastian’s pristine hospital pajamas. “Ava Lin! You hate me that much?!” “You threw up kissing me!”

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In the eighth month of my marriage to Spencer, I discovered I was pregnant. But I’m not his wife. I’m just a stand-in. The real heiress, Linnea Croft, pulled a runaway bride act, and I, her dead ringer, got drafted to take her place. Mr. Croft promised me five million dollars after a year. Now, there’s been a tiny, unexpected development. I frantically called him: “You found her, right? Switch us back! Now! Before it’s too late!” I didn’t even pack. I was shipped off overnight. Two weeks later, I was feeding pigeons on a Paris street, pondering what to do about the baby. Suddenly, I was pulled into a warm embrace. A man gently stroked my cheek, his voice low and smooth: “Honey, are you done playing? Time to come home.” Chapter 1 Getting drafted to marry Spencer Vance was an accident. I was buying street tacos, minding my own business, when I was grabbed. Burly bodyguards tossed me into a luxury car without a word. Thirty minutes later, I was dropped at a villa. In the grand living room, a middle-aged man sat ramrod straight. The second he saw me, he threw a teacup at me. His voice boomed, “Linnea Croft, do you know the consequences of running away? How did I raise such a daughter!” I dodged like a ninja. He got angrier. “You dare dodge? After what you did, you dare dodge me?” Me: “Huh?” He grabbed a cane to hit me. I ran around the living room, screaming, “Who is Linnea Croft? Don’t hit me! You got the wrong person!!” After showing him my photos, social media, and digital ID, he finally accepted I wasn’t his daughter. I was just a random person who looked suspiciously like her. He gave me ten grand as an apology. I happily took the money, ready to leave. But then he said, “Miss Liang, I see you need money. I have a deal for you. A big reward if you succeed.” That stopped me in my tracks. The wedding was in a month. Linnea Croft had run away. If she returned before the wedding, he’d give me fifty grand. If not, I’d pretend to be her and marry Spencer. The term was one year. Whether she was found or not, I’d get five million dollars. I was desperate for money. In a moment of madness, I agreed. Chapter 2 “Honey, spacing out at a time like this?” Spencer was displeased. He bit my lip. “Baby, if you’re not good tonight, you won’t be getting out of bed tomorrow.” Me: ! I snapped back from my messy memories and quickly said, “No, no, I’m super good! I have work tomorrow, please, please.” I blinked my eyes, begging pitifully. Spencer tucked my sweaty hair behind my ear and leaned down to kiss me. He whispered like a devil, “Too late.” Chapter 3 My eyes lost focus, staring into the void. Damn it. No one told me before the wedding that Linnea’s husband had such a high sex drive. Mr. Croft told me his daughter and Spencer were in a business marriage. They’d only seen photos of each other, never met. And I looked just like Linnea. So much like her that Mr. Croft got a DNA test just to be sure. Sadly, no blood relation. Just pure resemblance. I was heartbroken. My dream of being an heiress was shattered. But if I couldn’t be the heiress, I could be her stand-in. The money was just as good. Linnea couldn’t be found. The meetings, dates, marriage registration, and wedding—I took them all on. On the wedding night, I sat in the bridal suite in a seven-figure dress, waiting for him. He pushed the door open. The light cast a long shadow. Spencer’s voice was calm. “Miss Croft, are you nervous?” I swallowed hard, fingers twisting the fabric of my dress. “Um, what happens next…” He loosened his tie. “Let me be clear. I have normal physiological needs.” I was prepared for this. Newlyweds wouldn’t have a sexless marriage. Spencer was hot. Great body too. Six-foot-two, eight-pack abs, and… well… Ahem. Anyway, it wasn’t like I was losing out. The next morning, I hugged the quilt, contemplating life. Spencer wrapped his arms around me from behind. “What’s wrong, honey?” “I didn’t know I was like this.” His voice was husky with sleep. “Hmm?” I mumbled, “Sleeping with my husband on the first night… I’m so open…” He pulled me back. “We can do it the second night too.” Back then, I didn’t realize something was wrong. Maybe it was the novelty, but I was a bit addicted. After six months of being lovey-dovey with Spencer, I suddenly woke up one day. Wait. I’m not actually his wife. Chapter 4 It had been six months since the wedding. In the morning, I went to work at the Croft company. Before leaving, Spencer kissed me goodbye. “Honey, I’ll pick you up today. Don’t wander off.” I nodded. “Okay, okay.” The first time Spencer came to pick me up, I ran to a street food stall to buy tacos and chatted with the vendor, missing his calls. When I checked my phone, I saw tons of missed calls and texts. He stood out in his suit among the food stalls, hugging me tightly. He whispered in my ear, “Baby, if there’s a next time, I’ll punish you…” My ears turned red. “Shut up, shut up! No dirty talk in public!” He rubbed my head and pinched my ear. “Tell me next time. I worry when I can’t find you.” After that, Spencer picked me up regularly. I didn’t think anything of it. After work, I’d get in the car, hug him, and kiss him. We kissed for a while, but we weren’t home yet. I looked out the window. Wrong way. “Where are we going?” Spencer held the back of my head. “You’ll know soon.” Near the destination, Spencer put a blindfold on me. Five minutes later, we stopped. The blindfold was removed. The sunset bathed a garden full of red roses. It was magnificent. Behind me, someone pushed a birthday cake forward. Amidst the cheerful singing, Spencer lowered his head and kissed me. “Happy birthday, Linnea.” Ah. So that’s why he brought me here. It was Linnea Croft’s birthday. I had mixed feelings. Right. Spencer married Linnea, not me. I wasn’t his wife. Seeing I wasn’t happy, Spencer asked nervously, like a dog that did something wrong, “Don’t you like it?” I pushed down my messy thoughts and smiled at him. “I like it.” The stand-in agreement was for a year. Six months had passed. I thought I had six more months, until a month later, Mr. Croft texted me. [Found her.]

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My parents were junkies. Until I was ten, I didn’t have a birth certificate, never stepped foot in a kindergarten, and existed like a ghost in the system. When Jax pressed the muzzle of his gun against my forehead, I stared blankly and offered him the moldy piece of bread in my hand. “This is all I have left. Do you want it?” He slapped the bread away, agitated, and hoisted me up by my collar. “Where are your parents? They owe me money.” I shook my head, lost, and instinctively tugged at the hem of his jacket. “I’m hungry. Can you let me eat something before you beat me?” Jax froze. The tension left his shoulders. He threatened that if my parents didn’t pay up, he’d chop me up and sell me for parts. But then he turned around, walked into the kitchen, and fried me two eggs. I was ten. He was twenty-three. Because of those eggs, I clung to Jax for the rest of my life. 1 Jax had paced outside the door for thirty minutes before kicking it in, gun drawn. The house reeked—a cocktail of rotting food, an overflowing toilet, and damp mildew. He tried to take a deep breath to acclimate, but the physiological urge to gag made him curse loudly. I was chained in the basement. Through the cracks in the rotting floorboards above, I watched him ransack the place. His final loot—a single dime found under a cushion—broke him. He stomped his foot in rage, slipping on a patch of unknown sludge. Worse, the floorboard snapped. He fell through the ceiling, landing right in front of me in the basement. When our eyes met, Jax screamed. After realizing the creature with matted hair was a human child, he kicked me. “Don’t play ghost and scare people, dammit!” I curled into a ball, my whimper silent and controlled. Experience taught me that silence meant fewer beatings. “Where are your parents? Tell them to get their asses out here. Hiding won’t clear their debt.” I shook my head silently. I honestly didn’t know. I couldn’t remember the last time they came home. The bread I had been saving was growing a forest of black mold. “Speak!” Jax shoved the gun barrel against my brow. “Only this left. Do you want it?” I held up the green-black lump of bread. Jax stared at it, stunned, then slapped it out of my hand. “I want money! I want my cash! What the hell is that?” He grabbed me by the collar, lifting my feet off the ground. I finally saw his face clearly. Clean-shaven, pale. He smelled good, like expensive soap. There was a small mole on his Adam’s apple. “I’m hungry. Can I eat before you kill me? I promise I won’t cry. I’ll be good.” My stomach cramped with hunger, my hand gripping his shirt. A look of sheer disbelief flashed through Jax’s eyes. He frowned. “Are you crazy?” He dropped me, turned, and stomped up the rickety stairs. I assumed he found nothing to eat. Because I heard him swearing as he slammed the front door and left. 2 I don’t know if I fainted or just fell asleep. I woke up to Jax squatting in front of me, holding a plate of golden fried eggs. He poked my cheek. “You dead? I didn’t even hit you that hard.” The smell hit my nose, and I turned feral. I snatched the plate and shoveled the eggs into my mouth with dirty hands. “Slow down, kid. You’re making me think I’m Gordon Ramsay.” Actually, the eggs were way too salty. But to me, they were a Michelin-star meal. That was when Jax noticed the chain on my ankle. My world was a radius of three meters. I ate, slept, and used a bucket within that circle. “Are you actually their kid? Or did they kidnap you?” Jax looked horrified. I didn’t quite understand “kidnap,” but I knew I belonged to them. When I nodded, Jax went into a rage, smashing old furniture against the basement walls. “Those scumbags! Treating their own kid like a dog!” Terrified, I knelt on the floor. He looked confused. “What are you doing? Those eggs cost like fifty cents. You don’t need to worship me. It’s weird.” I was confused too. “I’m full. Isn’t it time for the beating?” Jax looked like he wanted to scream. He ground his teeth, ran upstairs, and came back with a rusty ax. I shrank back. My life was always hanging by a thread. Maybe dying was okay. At least I ate eggs. Jax swung the ax high. I closed my eyes, praying it would be quick. Clang! The ax sparked against the chain. Gritting his teeth, he swung again and again until the metal link snapped. I looked up in shock. The man patted my head awkwardly. His eyes held a gentleness I had never seen before. He practically dragged me upstairs. After so long in the dark, the sunlight burned my eyes. 3 Jax fried me another plate of eggs. After I wolfed them down, he looked proud. “If I hadn’t been too broke for culinary school, I’d be a head chef by now.” I nodded furiously. Yes. Chef. I didn’t know what a culinary school was, but agreeing with him felt safe. Jax left again. He came back with scissors, shampoo, and clothes. He dragged me to the yard, drew water from the well, and dumped a bucket of freezing water over me. I shivered violently but didn’t make a sound. My rags disintegrated under his hands. When he saw my body, Jax kicked the bucket over in frustration. “Sh*t. You’re a girl.” I nodded timidly. Jax sighed, took off his jacket, wrapped me in it, and carried me inside. I sat on a chair and watched him boil water on the stove. It was the first hot bath I could remember. Actually, the first bath, period. He scrubbed me with a rough towel, muttering that the pigs in the pen were cleaner than me. When I was clean and dressed in the oversized boy’s clothes he bought, Jax sighed with satisfaction. He hacked at my matted hair with the scissors. He said I looked like a poodle that lost a fight with a lawnmower. Then, he made me work. He said he couldn’t stand the filth. I tried to sweep, but I was so weak I tripped over the broom. He picked me up, set me on a high cabinet, and told me to stay put. Jax dry-heaved while he cleaned. He filled twenty trash bags. He sprayed so much bleach my eyes watered. Finally, he lit a cigarette and collapsed on the couch. He closed his eyes and asked again, “Do you really not know where your parents are?” I shook my head, feeling guilty and ashamed. 4 My parents returned three days later. I heard them screaming at each other from down the block. Jax instantly racked the slide of his pistol. He shoved me into the bedroom and stuffed tissue paper in my ears. He told me he was going to play a game with my parents and that I had to stay quiet. I nodded obediently. For three days, I had food, water, and at night, he let me watch videos on his phone. Even though I didn’t understand the dancing ladies on TikTok, my gray world had color for the first time. He was my god. I trusted him unconditionally. Jax went out and fired a warning shot. I heard my father scream, the sound of a body hitting the floor, and a groan. Jax roared, “Where’s my money? You stole the boss’s product and thought you could hide? You got a death wish?” My mother screamed, her voice shrill and manic. “We smoked it all! It’s gone! Please!” Jax: “Money or product. Now.” The voices dropped. Then, the front door slammed open. I heard a child crying. Loudly. Curious, I cracked the door open. It was a beautiful boy, dressed in expensive clothes. “He’s our golden ticket,” my mother said, tying the boy to a table leg. “His dad owns a mining company. He’s loaded.” Jax looked horrified. He kicked my mother away. “I just want my debt paid! I didn’t sign up for a kidnapping felony!” In the chaos, I saw my father stumble up and smash a chair over the back of Jax’s head. I covered my mouth, too scared to scream a warning. 5 My parents were high. They were erratic. Jax was unconscious, bleeding heavily from his head. I squatted next to him, whispering his name. The rich boy was crying and cursing. “You trash! Junkies! Whores! Do you know who my father is?” My mother slapped him. He screamed louder. I waved at him to shut up. My parents had killed people in this house before. But he wouldn’t stop. Jax groaned and opened his eyes, reaching for his gun. My mother pointed her own pistol at the boy’s head. Jax’s eyes went wide. He lunged. “Crazy b*tch! Don’t drag me to hell with you!” The gun went off. The bullet missed the boy’s head but shattered his thigh. My parents were completely gone, lost in drug-induced psychosis. Jax, bleeding and dizzy, wiped his fingerprints off everything he touched. He grabbed his gun and ran out the door. I sat there, numb. I wanted to cry, but my eyes were dry. But Jax came back. He grabbed my mother’s phone and dialed 911. Disguising his voice, he said, “Drug overdose and kidnapping in progress. Send units.” He grabbed a quilt, wrapped me up, and carried me to the stone bench in the yard. He squatted in front of me. “When the cops come, beg them to take you. Orphanage, foster care, anywhere. Just get out of this house.” He spoke fast, desperate. I nodded mechanically. He rubbed my messy hair, his eyes full of pain. “I hope you have a safe life, kid.” “Promise me. You never saw me. Okay?” He held out his pinky. I hooked it with mine. “Will I see you again?” “Maybe. I don’t know.” Jax pulled his hand away. “Just stay alive.” He ran into the night without looking back. I sat there until the sirens wailed, my feet numb from the cold. The last three days felt like a dream I wasn’t supposed to have.

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I was once the undisputed princess of the family. But on my eighteenth birthday, my dad adopted an orphan girl from a shelter, and everything changed. My brother, who once protected me, now adored her and despised me. My childhood sweetheart, who promised to marry me, now ignored me for her. Even my father, my hero, said the orphan was ten thousand times better than his own flesh and blood. On my college graduation day, they missed my celebration for the 101st time because of her. I finally snapped. “Am I not your real family? Why does she always come first?” My dad, seeing the orphan girl tear up in fear, slapped me across the face. “You jealous, petty thing. I wish I never had you.” My brother screamed at me, “Having a sister like you makes me sick. Get out of this house!” I didn’t argue. I silently packed my bags and left. After I was gone, the house was finally peaceful. They took the orphan girl on a trip to Antarctica to see penguins, thinking the silent treatment would work like always. They thought I’d cool off and come crawling back. They didn’t know I was gone for good. I called my mother, accepted her offer to move abroad, and never looked back. This time, I really didn’t want them anymore. Chapter 1 “Mom, I accept your offer. I’m moving abroad to live with you.” The voice on the other end paused, then erupted in joy. “Emily! You finally agreed!” Then, her tone shifted to worry. “Wait, honey, you said you weren’t considering it last time. Did your father do something? Is he mistreating you?” “I knew that old fool was unreliable. When we divorced, I should have fought harder to take you.” “He swore he’d take care of you and your brother. Is this how he keeps his promise? Emily, tell me what happened. Mom will fix it.” It was true. When my parents divorced, Mom fought for me. But Dad wouldn’t let go, promising to give me the world. My brother, Liam, hugged me and cried, begging me not to leave. So I stayed. But now, they had forgotten those promises. I swallowed the lump in my throat, took a deep breath, and forced a cheerful tone. “No, Mom, it’s not that. I just miss you.” Mom paused again. “I miss my Emily too. Come here, and we’ll never be separated again.” “I’m booking your ticket right now. Just come home.” “Okay.” As soon as I hung up, my phone buzzed. It was a notification from the airline. The ticket was booked. Three days from now. Chapter 2 Mom texted again: [Emily, take these few days to say goodbye to your friends.] [Once you’re here, I’m never letting you go again.] Say goodbye? To Dad, Liam, and my fiancé, Brandon? Three days was more than enough. I turned off my phone and stood on the street corner for a long time. The autumn wind in New York was biting. The cold seeped into my bones, making me shiver. Eventually, I called Dad. Blood is thicker than water, right? Even if things were bad, I should say goodbye properly. The call was declined immediately. I called again. Straight to voicemail. I had no choice but to call Liam. It rang for a long time before he finally answered, his voice dripping with impatience. “Why do you keep calling? Don’t you know Sarah is performing right now?” “You almost ruined her show.” Even knowing his bias, his words stung. I pressed a hand to my chest to ease the ache and spoke softly. “Liam, we haven’t seen each other in a while. Can we have dinner tonight?” He scoffed. Afraid he’d hang up, I rushed to add, “The seafood restaurant Sarah likes just finished renovations. Let’s go there tonight, okay?” Sarah was the orphan Dad adopted. Since she arrived, I had never been this humble before her. Liam sneered at my desperation. “Emily, what game are you playing? You almost ruined Sarah’s performance last time. Are you trying to poison her now?” My heart felt like it was being sliced open. The brother who promised to always believe in me was gone. “No… Liam, I just want to see you guys.” “I don’t want to see you—” He was cut off by a soft, fragile voice in the background. “Liam, don’t talk to Emily like that. She’ll be sad.” “It’s been so long since we saw her. Let’s have dinner.” “But I’m tired today. I don’t want to go out. Let’s eat at home.” “I’m craving spicy crab, but the maid is off. Can Emily make it?” “Of course,” I said instantly. “I’ll go home and start cooking right now.” I hung up before they could change their minds. I forgot I was allergic to seafood. I couldn’t touch it. Chapter 3 The wind made my eyes water as I rushed to the market. Crabs were hard to clean. Within minutes, my fingers were red and swollen, and rashes began to appear on my palms. But thinking this was our last family dinner, I endured the itching and pain. When the spicy crab was ready, Dad, Liam, and Sarah arrived. I brought the dish out and glanced at the living room. It was a picture of warmth. Dad, usually so busy, sat opposite Sarah, listening to her talk about backstage drama. Liam peeled an orange for her, scolding playfully, “Let me do that. Our Sarah’s hands are for playing piano, not manual labor.” My ex-fiancé, Brandon, and his parents were there too. Compared to me, they clearly preferred Sarah as their future daughter-in-law. Brandon sat next to her, looking at her with adoration, handing her water whenever she paused. I stood there, invisible. Just like always. As long as Sarah was there, I ceased to exist. The dining room and living room were two different worlds. One lively, one lonely. I almost forgot that once, Sarah’s seat was mine. The person surrounded by love used to be me. “Emily, why are you standing there? Come sit with us,” Sarah called out sweetly. Liam scoffed. “Don’t. She’ll ruin the mood.” “I don’t get it. We’re all family, but some people’s hearts are just rotten.” I dug my nails into my palms to stop the tears. I forced a smile. “Right, I won’t come over. Dinner is ready.” By the time I brought the last dish out, the six seats at the table were full. Sarah sat in my usual spot. Dad, Liam, Brandon, and his parents filled the rest. Liam looked up at me. Before he could speak, I grabbed my bowl and went back to the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam pause. But only for a second. Soon, he was busy peeling shrimp for Sarah. I stood in the kitchen, eating plain rice with leftover vegetable sauce. I couldn’t help but look. Sarah loved seafood. The whole table pampered her. Brandon’s parents used to dote on me. Now, like Brandon, they poured all their affection onto the new girl. The atmosphere was so happy. I remembered when I was the one being peeled shrimp for. When I was the center of their world. I stared too long. Liam caught my eye. His warm gaze turned icy instantly. I fled back into the kitchen, tripping over a pot on the floor. The lid clattered loudly. Dad stopped peeling shrimp. “I knew her apology wasn’t sincere. Asked her to cook one meal and she’s throwing a tantrum in the kitchen. No manners.” I hugged myself in the dark. Dad, it’s not like that. I just tripped. This is our last meal together. I didn’t mean to ruin it. But I knew explaining was useless. He wouldn’t believe me. Brandon’s mom, Mrs. Hayes, looked toward the kitchen with pity. “She’s just a child, probably tired. It’s normal to be grumpy.” “We didn’t even notice there weren’t enough chairs. Get a stool for Emily.” Under their disgusted gazes, Mrs. Hayes pulled me to the table. “Emily, I haven’t seen you in two months. You’re so thin. Eat something.” Everyone stared at me. Dad frowned, about to speak. Suddenly, Sarah clutched her chest and screamed. “It hurts… cough… so hard to breathe…” Dad, Liam, and Brandon immediately surrounded her. Seeing the rash spreading on Sarah’s neck, Dad gasped. “Allergic reaction? How?” Realization dawned on him. He glared at me with cold fury. Then, he slapped me with all his strength. “Did you do this? How did I raise such a vicious daughter?” I fell to the floor, ears ringing. Everyone else looked at me like I was a monster. Pale and shaking, I stammered, “It wasn’t me, I didn’t…” But as always, they convicted me without a trial. Liam gritted his teeth. “I can’t believe you’re my sister. You make me sick.” “I knew you weren’t being nice today. You poisoned her!” Brandon looked down at me, sneering. “Mom, you see why I don’t like her now?” “She’s too manipulative. I can’t spend my life with someone like that.” Mrs. Hayes wanted to say something, but Dad picked Sarah up and roared, “Enough! We’ll deal with this later.” “Hospital! Now!” They rushed out with Sarah. I lay on the floor, clutching my swollen face. I watched them leave and finally let the tears fall. See? It’s always like this. If it involves Sarah, I am always the villain. Something inside me died completely. The pain was agonizing. But I knew this was the last time. I was leaving. I would never see them again. I would never cry for them again. Chapter 4 I went to my room and started packing. I didn’t need to wait three days. That slap made it crystal clear. No one here wanted me. I might as well leave now instead of waiting to be kicked out. I sorted through my things. Surprisingly, I had very little. Since Sarah arrived, Dad and Liam rarely bought me anything. They barely gave me an allowance. I rarely came back to this “home” anyway. It made packing easy. My eyes fell on a family photo on the desk. Memories flooded back. When Mom left for Europe after the divorce, Dad cried all night. He hugged Liam and me, saying he failed as a husband but would be the best father. Liam swore he’d be the best big brother. He said he’d never let me be sad, afraid I’d leave like Mom. And they were great. I was sickly as a kid. No matter how busy Dad was, if I had a fever, he’d rush home. When I was twelve and bullied at school, fifteen-year-old Liam fought five boys alone. He came home bruised and bloody, but the bullies were terrified of the “crazy brother.” No one messed with me after that. Brandon was good to me too. When Dad was away, he’d take us to his house for Mrs. Hayes’ cooking. When we felt guilty about eating there too often, he’d look at me with shining eyes and say, “What’s there to be embarrassed about? We can eat together for the rest of our lives.” I believed him. So when I turned eighteen and Dad suggested an engagement with the Hayes family, I agreed immediately. I fantasized about a happy future. I wouldn’t even have to move far; my love was right next door. But the next day, Dad brought Sarah home. And everything shattered. She inserted herself into every moment I had with Liam and Brandon. She broke my things and blamed me. She poured milk on herself and cried, “Emily, I know you didn’t mean it.” She cut up the clothes Dad bought her and sobbed, “Emily, I won’t take your things, please don’t be mad.” She covered herself in trash and cut herself, then threw herself into Brandon’s arms, wailing, “Brandon, tell Emily to stop. I’m going to die. I’ll leave, just please make the bullying stop.” Driven mad by her gaslighting, I finally exploded. But the family who always stood behind me… stood in front of her. “Emily, I’m so disappointed in you,” Dad said. Liam slapped me. “You forgot how it felt to be bullied? How could you do this to Sarah? Get out!” Brandon held Sarah gently, his eyes full of disgust for me. “Emily, I didn’t know you were this kind of person. I need to rethink our engagement.” They ignored my pleas. They took Sarah to the hospital. Just like today. And my place in this home vanished.

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After I died, the memorial service arranged by my best friend was trashed by a mob. Anti-fans swarmed the funeral home, livestreaming with selfie sticks. “Finally!” they cheered. “Good riddance!” The comments section was flooded with “Is she really dead? Thank God.” My ex-husband was photographed on a mega-yacht, celebrating with his mistress for seven days straight. It seemed my early death was exactly what I deserved. Until one day, my diary was made public. Only then did the world realize… I had only been happy for one brief moment in my entire life. Chapter 1 On a live talk show, the host suddenly pivoted. “Ethan Blackwood, your ex-wife recently passed away due to illness. How do you feel about it?” Ethan scoffed. “Feel? Nothing. I heard her memorial got trashed. Good. She deserved it.” The host smiled politely. “Do you mind talking about her? She’s been trending since the news broke.” Usually, capitalizing on someone’s death gets you cancelled. But when the deceased is me, nobody cares. “Ask whatever you want,” Ethan said, leaning back. “I’m curious,” the host continued. “Everyone says Hazel Green was a monster. So, why did you marry her?” The movie star went silent. He probably couldn’t remember why either. The host smiled faintly. “We actually obtained Miss Green’s diary. Would you mind if we shared it with the audience?” Ethan sneered. “She dropped out of high school. Could she even write a diary? Go ahead, show it. I don’t care.” When the worn notebook was opened on screen, everyone froze. The handwriting was neat and elegant, not the scrawl of a madwoman. The host cleared her throat. “Let me read an entry.” Chapter 2 October 3, 2020 Today, I’m getting married! Who’s the groom? My Ethan, of course. Who else would I marry? Who else would he dare marry? If he looked at anyone else, I’d kill him. We’ve been together for six years. Today, I finally married the boy I fell in love with at eighteen. Dear Diary, you should have seen how nervous Ethan was putting the ring on my finger. His ears were burning red, and his eyes welled up instantly. They say men’s tears are a woman’s weakness. It’s true. I couldn’t stop smiling. But honestly, Diary, when Ethan got drunk later and collapsed into my arms, I cried even harder than him. He whispered in my ear, “Hazel, I love you. I love you so much. Thank you for being my wife.” Actually, I should be thanking him. Because of him, I finally belong somewhere. At the wedding, Ethan’s mom hugged me. My nose stung when she held me. It was the first time an elder had ever hugged me. So this is what a mother feels like. Growing up in the foster system, I didn’t know what a hug was. Orphans like us, no matter how good we were, nobody held us. When we cried, we just lay on the floor until we stopped. Teachers always said we were “well-behaved.” But it was only because we knew crying got no response. And being good got no love. So we learned to hide. Only after meeting Ethan did I learn to be myself. To believe he would love me anyway. Now, Ethan and I finally have a home. Even if we’re broke. It will get better. I told Ethan, “This is the happiest moment of my life.” He hugged me tight. “Not the happiest. Every day from now on will be happy.” Marriage is wonderful. I have someone. I have a family. I’m not alone anymore. Here’s a photo from the wedding. It’s small, just a 4×6. I’m wearing an $80 dress from Shein, and Ethan is wearing his only decent suit. We look poor, but our smiles are so sweet. Ethan promised me that when he makes it big, he’ll take me to the beaches of Malaysia for a real photoshoot. The host finished reading and took a deep breath. No one expected the “evil” Hazel Green to have such memories with Ethan. The words were playful and sweet. Anyone could see how happy I was back then. Expired sugar is the deadliest poison. Ethan froze for three seconds. These memories had been buried deep. Back then, marrying me felt like winning the lottery for him. He had forgotten. The netizens were confused too. This didn’t match the villainess image they knew. “Reading this… she sounds like a normal girl in love.” “Fake. Look at the handwriting. No way Hazel wrote that.” “Wait, she was an orphan? No wonder she had no manners.” The host looked at Ethan. “Mr. Blackwood, it seems you were very happy when you got married.” Ethan zoned out for a second, then laughed self-deprecatingly. “She used to be a decent person. Too bad people change.” The host smiled. “Perhaps. Let’s look at the next page. Honestly, I’m curious what turned Miss Green into the villain everyone hates.” Chapter 3 January 6, 2021 Dear Diary, sorry I ignored you. I’ve been busy with extra gigs. Today I’m complaining again. Is there any way to make quick money? Maybe I should spend $2 a day on lottery tickets? A meal on set is $2. If I skip dinner, I can save that money. Maybe I’ll hit the jackpot. I don’t want to rely on luck, Diary. But I need money so bad. I can’t ask Ethan. He’s already stressed. He films night shoots and edits videos during the day. He’s so tired, but he always smiles and says, “Hubby isn’t tired.” It breaks my heart. Whatever. I’ll figure it out myself. Attached photo: Ethan sleeping like an angel. When life gets hard, I just look at his face. The host paused. “Ethan, did you know your wife needed money this badly back then?” Ethan shook his head. “I was her husband. If she needed money and didn’t tell me, it was probably for something shady. No wonder she did all those disgusting things later. For money, she really had no shame.” The host sighed and continued reading. Chapter 4 January 10, 2021 Dear Diary. My best friend died today. We grew up in the foster home together for ten years. She left me just because we couldn’t scrape together $5,000 for her surgery. I told her I’d find a way. Just wait a little longer. I’d deliver Uber Eats if I had to. But while I was on set as an extra, she pulled her own plug. She left a voice memo. “Hazel, we were thrown away as kids. Our bodies are weak. Making it to 25 is already a win for me. Don’t be sad. Maybe in heaven I’ll find the parents who dumped me and kick their asses. You and Ethan be happy. And remember, get your checkups. Poor people can’t afford to get sick.” I cried until I couldn’t breathe. We were so close. If she just waited… Diary, why is the world so unfair? Today on set, I heard the lead actress’s handbag cost $5,000. One bag could have saved my friend’s life. Thinking about this reminds me of another friend from the home, Maya. She had a round face and a smile like the moon. She was adopted at eight by a rich family. I was so happy for her. But she came back a year later. Thin. Silent. Mute. She wrote down that the family abused her. To stop her from talking, they cut her tongue. I ran to the Director for help, but he beat me half to death. He took hush money from the family and buried it. Maya killed herself shortly after. Now my other friend is gone too. There aren’t many of us left from the old days. Diary, I want to tell Ethan all this. But seeing his tired smile… Forget it. I’ll wait until life gets better. I won’t burden him. Goodnight, Diary. Hope I get a callback tomorrow. The host’s voice trembled. Netizens reacted: “She needed money for a friend?” “What kind of foster home was that? Investigate immediately!” “Seems like a whitewash attempt. But you can tell she was jealous. Comparing a life to a handbag? Classic envy.” The host turned to Ethan. “Ethan, did you know she needed $5,000? You were both 25. Did you really not have $5,000 in savings?” Ethan’s pupils shrank. “In 2020, we saved $10,000 together. I promised to buy her a gold bracelet… But at the end of the year, my mom got sick. It took all our savings. Later, she never brought it up, so I never bought it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. The comments flew by. “So Hazel gave all her savings to cure her mother-in-law and ended up broke herself?” “Well, marriage means family. It’s expected.” “If she had that bracelet, maybe she could have sold it.” Ethan didn’t tell the whole story. His mom had insurance. It covered most of the bills. When the reimbursement check came, I didn’t see a dime. When my friend got sick, I hesitated, then asked my mother-in-law for a loan. She mocked me. “Marrying a useless thing like you was charity enough. You dare ask for money? You’re an orphan. Nobody has your back.” I froze. The woman who hugged me at the wedding and called me “daughter” looked at me with pure disdain. We didn’t have a wedding ceremony, just a dinner. No ring, no dowry. And in the end, no respect. I learned then: once you’re married, the masks come off. Especially when you have no family to defend you. My diary didn’t hold half the grievances I swallowed. Chapter 5 The host smiled bitterly. “So, Hazel was broke because she gave everything to your mother?” The question was sharp. Netizens started arguing. Some sensed something was wrong. Ethan stiffened, adjusting his tie. “If she… hadn’t done those disgusting things later, I would have made it up to her.” He sounded self-righteous, his voice rising. The host laughed softly. “Is that so? Let’s read on. Let’s see how Hazel ‘changed.’”

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My childhood sweetheart, Grace, fell madly in love with the poor scholar in her class. The scholar viewed money as dirt. Upon learning that Grace and I were engaged, he scoffed, “Arranged marriages are archaic and absurd. We aren’t living in the Middle Ages!” Grace, mesmerized by his ‘ideals,’ broke our engagement and eloped with him. Five years later, I became the CEO of the family empire. At the succession ceremony, I saw Grace again. Heavy foundation couldn’t hide her exhaustion. Drunk, she cried to me, saying she regretted everything. The next day, her husband, Leo—who had married into her wealthy family—stormed into my office: “You think your money lets you seduce another man’s wife? I’ve lost face because of you. Are you satisfied now?!” Chapter 1 The room fell into a deathly silence. Everyone knew the bad blood between the Sterling and Gallagher families over a scholarship student. The Gallagher heiress, Grace, had ignored our engagement and run off with a penniless boy. In the end, the Gallaghers, unable to see their daughter suffer, agreed to the marriage, ending the farce. I didn’t expect the drama to have a sequel. I frowned. Leo had been living the high life for years, yet his fragile ego remained intact. The inferiority complex in his bones hadn’t changed a bit. I looked around the room and spoke calmly, under the gaze of the elite crowd. “Mr. Evans, this is a public venue. Watch your words. If you want to talk business, calm down. If you slander me again, you can talk to my lawyer.” Leo’s face turned pale, his expression awkward. I looked him over emotionlessly. He was decked out in luxury brands, a far cry from the poor student of five years ago. But his personality—arrogant yet deeply insecure—was exactly the same. Five years ago. Grace said Leo was different. He didn’t suck up to her like other guys. He dared to point out her flaws. In his eyes, she wasn’t a high-and-mighty heiress, just a normal classmate. This “equality” felt like a breath of fresh air to her. People in our circle are driven by profit; even marriage is a transaction. Couples often lived separate lives, keeping up appearances while having affairs. One day, I saw Grace and Leo whispering in the library. Her eyes shone with a light I had never seen. I didn’t care. But I didn’t expect Grace to break our engagement for him. I looked at her then. “Do you know what this means? You’ll lose your inheritance. You might be disowned.” Grace was resolute. “He has talent and ideals. Unlike you people, who only care about money. He’s right. True love shouldn’t be bound by wealth.” Of course, he wasn’t like us. Because he had no money. I found it laughable. That a world as cynical as high society could produce someone as naive as Grace. I agreed to the breakup. The next day, Grace and Leo vanished, taking a night train down south. Before leaving, Grace asked me, “Julian, did you ever love me?” I didn’t answer. But the truth was, I did have feelings for her once. My parents married for love. My dad was a brilliant student from a rural background. He got into an Ivy League school on merit but couldn’t even afford a suit when he courted my mom. My mom, moved by his talent, ignored her family’s objections and handed the company over to him. But once my dad made it big, he rekindled a romance with his college sweetheart. My mom caught them together. The next second, they died in a car crash—a double suicide pact. My mom couldn’t handle the blow. She tried to kill herself multiple times and ended up in a mental institution. My grandfather hated my dad’s betrayal and looked at me with disgust. I became invisible in the family. Until Grace came to visit and invited me to play. We grew close, inseparable. From then on, my grandfather started noticing me again. Chapter 2 He called a family meeting to choose an heir. I wasn’t on the list. Aside from my mom, he had two sons. One was an illegitimate child, Uncle Silas. My eldest uncle only cared about partying, showing no interest in the business. But Uncle Silas was desperate to inherit. I saw him as my biggest rival. I studied relentlessly under immense pressure. I wanted to prove myself, to make my grandfather see my worth. Before I even graduated, I led the company to new heights, but nothing seemed to impress him. Until my engagement to Grace was finalized. The Gallaghers were a top-tier family, equal to the Sterlings. Our union promised a win-win. Only then did my grandfather turn to me and officially name me the successor. Grace and I grew up together. Our backgrounds matched. Falling for her was natural. But those feelings vanished after meeting Leo. My mom’s tragedy was a warning. I had no patience for men like Leo. If the girl I liked chose a guy like that, I could only pity her. Giving up was my best option. No one was dragging me into the mud. Leo, with his scholarly face, looked furious now. He pointed at me, screaming, “Julian Sterling, what is your problem? Why do you keep harassing Grace? Do you know you’re acting like a homewrecker?” The room exploded with whispers. I could already see the headlines. #Billionaire Accused of Homewrecking #Julian Sterling Publicly Shamed by Grace Gallagher’s Husband My assistant immediately cleared the room and ordered the guests to keep quiet. Annoyed, my tone turned icy. “Mr. Evans, out of respect for the Gallaghers, I’ll overlook your outburst today. But if there’s a next time, you’ll face the consequences.” I signaled security to escort him out. When I got home that night, I found Victoria sitting on my sofa in a red slip dress. She looked up at me with teary eyes. Seeing me, she ran over, her voice sweet and aggrieved. “Julian, I’m jealous.” “Why did she cry like that at the party? What did she mean by that?” I pulled away. “Victoria, who gave you the door code?” Victoria batted her eyelashes, looking pitiful. “Grandpa Sterling told me to move in.” I looked around. My cold apartment was now filled with girlish decorations. Warm and romantic. I frowned. She watched me closely. Seeing my expression, she quickly explained, “Don’t be mad. If you don’t like it, I’ll leave right now.” Chapter 3 She moved to pack her bags. I grabbed her wrist. “Forget it. We’re getting married in a few months anyway.” Her eyes lit up like stars. She looked at me with pure joy. “Are you tired? Want to see the new decorations?” Curious about what else she added, I let her lead me. In the bedroom, an entire wall was covered with our photos. From our first meeting to now, every moment captured. It screamed teenage romance. I chuckled, the corners of my mouth lifting. “I just added a few touches. Do you like it?” Her eyes were full of hope. Like a kitten waiting for a pat. It was hard to believe this girl was the legendary shark of the business world. At 20, her family faced a crisis. She took over and built a commercial empire in five years. The Shen Group skyrocketed, surpassing every other family in the capital. And she was only 25, four years younger than me. In business, she was steady and unreadable. Today, I saw her youthful side. Not wanting to crush her spirit, I said, “The photos are nice.” Victoria froze, a blush spreading across her pale cheeks. She whispered, “We can take more photos like this.” I paused. I realized the photos were intimate, making my compliment sound ambiguous. Awkwardly, I composed myself. “It’s late. I’m going to rest.” I went upstairs quickly. My grandfather allowing Victoria to move in was expected. Since he fell ill and stepped back, the Sterling family had been declining. Even with my best efforts, I was barely holding it together. Restoring our glory wouldn’t be easy. He had pinned his hopes on the Gallaghers, but that failed. Victoria gave him new hope. “Julian, it’s not that I don’t trust you. But to ride the wind, you need leverage. Knowing how to use power makes a wise man. The Shen family is our best partner.” I understood the trade-off. Political marriages were a tool for stability. As long as it helped me, I could accept it. My friend Chris was having a birthday party at a club. When I walked in, the first thing I saw was Grace and Leo sitting together. Chapter 4 She looked at me with resentment, her eyes swirling with complex emotions. I avoided her gaze and sat at the farthest end of the sofa. Chris leaned in, whispering, “Grace insisted on coming. We run in the same circle, I couldn’t say no. Didn’t think she’d bring him.” I didn’t want to talk about it. I handed him a gift box. “Happy Birthday.” He tore it open, eyes lighting up. “Julian, you know me too well!” It was a limited-edition mechanical watch. I pulled a lot of strings to get it. Chris winked. “Julian, you get me so well. Ever consider switching teams?” Others laughed. “Give it up. You can’t compete with Miss Shen.” “I say Julian should take them both. Even days and odd days.” While everyone laughed, Leo suddenly stood up. The laughter died. Everyone looked at each other. He stared at Grace grimly. “Come outside.” Grace stood up silently and followed him. Their argument in the hall was loud enough for everyone to hear. We all listened awkwardly. Leo was yelling. “You’ve been staring at Julian Sterling since we got here! What does that mean? What do you want?” Grace’s voice was cold. “Stop being unreasonable.” “Me? Unreasonable?” Leo laughed bitterly. “I’ll show you unreasonable!” The door flew open. Leo charged in like a madman. He rushed up to me, pointing at Grace. “Julian Sterling! You can have this woman! I don’t want her anymore!” Grace ran in and grabbed his arm. “Are you done being crazy? You’re embarrassing yourself! Let’s go home!” Leo shook her off, screaming hysterically. “Go home and say what? Talk about how you can’t get over Julian? How you secretly pine for him? How you call his name when you’re drunk?” “Ha! I’m embarrassing? Grace, stop acting high and mighty. Who chased who? I warned you I didn’t want your rich people drama!” Grace snapped, eyes red. “Yes, I chased you! But Leo, don’t make me regret it!”

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