When I went to the Marsden house to return the engagement gifts, I found Nathan Marsden lying in the arms of the young housekeeper, a post-coital cigarette dangling from his lips. He blew a playful smoke ring in my face. “Perfect timing. Wendy’s exhausted. Go wash the sheets for us, will you?” “The girl’s a little inexperienced. After the engagement party tonight, you can teach her a few of my favorite positions. I don’t want my nights ruined.” I didn’t answer. I just placed the bag containing the gifts on the coffee table. “Check everything. If it’s all there, let’s call off the engagement.” “I’ll send out a notice to cancel the party.” Nathan finally sat up, but the careless smirk never left his face. “How many times have you tried to scare me with this little act?” “Honey, a man gets tired of sleeping with the same woman. Sleeping with others is just my way of keeping things fresh with you.” “Can’t you try to understand?” He pulled a single rose from the bouquet of ninety-nine he’d bought for the housekeeper and offered it to me. He still thought a single flower and a cheap promise could win me over, just like all the times before. But this time, I shook my head. I was really, truly done with him. 1 When I didn’t move, he simply retracted his hand. He snapped the stem and tucked the rose into Wendy’s hair. “Honey, I promise you’ll be the one and only Mrs. Marsden. This constant jealousy over every little thing is really beneath you.” “Are you putting on such a show because I let Wendy try on your engagement ring?” He pushed Wendy away and stood up, wrapping his arm around my waist and whispering in a placating tone. “The girl has no status. She’ll never get to wear a real wedding ring in her life.” “You need to have the grace of the lady of the house. Just think of it as taking pity on her, letting her have a little fun.” I clutched the hem of my shirt, my heart turning to ice. Nathan’s first “wedding photo,” his first “honeymoon,” even his “first time” in our bed—it was all with Wendy. Every time I broke down and confronted him, he would just pinch my cheek with a look of helpless indulgence. “We’ll have a lifetime to do all those things. Why are you so obsessed with the ‘first’ time?” “So possessive, my little crybaby.” Wendy looped her arm through his, helping him persuade me. “Sophia, Nathan is so good to you. He never lets me wear lipstick or perfume, just so I don’t leave any trace on him that might upset you.” She picked up the bouquet of roses from the table, a blatant challenge in her eyes. “If one rose isn’t enough for you, you can have the rest. Nathan just bought me a rose garden a few days ago. I’m already sick of them.” Nathan cupped Wendy’s face and kissed her. “You’re being so thoughtful today, baby.” “Go get our gear. I’m taking you to the old cornfield. A reward for unlocking a new scene.” After Wendy went into the bedroom, he picked up a scarf and personally tied it around my neck. “It’s cold out. I’ll have the driver take you home.” “Just focus on getting ready for the engagement party tonight. I promise I’ll be there before it starts.” I grabbed his arm. “Don’t go just yet.” Nathan froze for a second, then relaxed. “See? You can’t bear to let me go.” “Let go, sweetheart. I’ll pick up some of your favorite farm-fresh snacks on the way.” “I don’t need them.” I shook my head and pushed a briefcase into his hands. “Before you go, check the prenup.” “So I can release the statement calling off the engagement as soon as possible.” The smile vanished from Nathan’s face. He stared at me, hard, and when he was sure I wasn’t joking, he spoke, his brow furrowed. “You don’t have a job, and your mother’s in the ICU. Her medical bills are five figures a day. Who’s going to support you two without me?” His voice turned cold. “Sophia, I’ve really spoiled you rotten all these years.” His words should have made me laugh, but my eyes stung with tears. I didn’t have a job because, in the first year of his startup, he had begged me on his knees to be a homemaker, to be the foundation that supported his career. The reason my mother was in a coma was because she had taken a knife for him from a business rival. I swallowed the sharp, stabbing pain in my heart and looked down, my voice flat. “I have my own ways of handling the money. I just… I don’t want to live like this anymore.” Nathan was about to say something else, but Wendy came bouncing out of the room. “Nate, let’s go! I was just practicing a new, difficult position in there. If we wait too long, I’ll lose the mood.” “You little vixen. Whatever you say.” Nathan swept her into his arms, playfully tapping her nose. But when he looked at me, his eyes were filled with displeasure. “Do whatever you want. Let off some steam.” “I’m not going to take your angry words seriously.” “But I will be stopping your mother’s medical payments for a few days. If you don’t get a taste of how hard it is to earn a living, you’ll never understand what I do for you.” With that, he turned and left, Wendy wrapped in his arms. As I watched them go, my breath caught, a bitter taste spreading through my mouth. I took out my phone and sent a cancellation notice to all our friends and family. Then, I made a call. “Mr. Peterson, you once said that if I took the overseas position, you would cover my mother’s medical expenses.” “I’ve made my decision. When do I leave?” “The sooner, the better. We can have you on a plane tomorrow.” I agreed and immediately went to the hospital to arrange for my mother’s transfer. When I walked into her room, I found her awake. “Mom!” Overjoyed and shocked, I rushed to her and hugged her tightly, my voice choking with sobs. My mother cried too, squeezing my hand. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Is Nate treating you well?” “As long as you two are happy, taking a little stab for him was worth it.” Seeing the hopeful look in her eyes, I slowly lowered my head. I didn’t know how to tell her that Nathan was cheating on me with our housekeeper and that I had called off the engagement. As I struggled for words, a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Mom, I’m here to see you!” Nathan walked in, followed by his assistant carrying boxes of expensive supplements, practically filling the room. “You woke up just in time. Sophia and I have our engagement party tonight. You have to be there, Mother-in-law.” He draped his arm around my shoulders intimately, as if nothing had happened between us. A wave of nausea washed over me, but I didn’t say anything. My mom was beaming. She pointed to Nathan’s neck and winked at me. “It’s good that you two are so close, but you need to take it easy. Nate has a lot of work to do.” I looked up and saw a clear bite mark on his neck. We had been living apart for six months. It was obvious who had left it there. Nathan’s face stiffened for a moment before he quickly recovered, his eyes full of adoration for me. “What can I say? I’m completely whipped. I love it when Sophia gets clingy. Don’t you worry about a thing, Mom.” My mother looked relieved and content. “As long as you two are happy, I can rest easy. Now go, get ready for your party.” I forced a smile and nodded. The moment we were out of the room, I slapped him, hard. My eyes were full of scorn. “Putting on such a good show for my mother. Aren’t you tired?” A red mark quickly appeared on his face. His eyelashes trembled, but he said nothing. Still furious, I raised my hand again, but he held up his phone. “This is Dr. Evans’s contact information. He’s a top internal medicine specialist. I was going to schedule a comprehensive check-up for Mom.” My hand froze in mid-air. As if drained of all strength, I slowly lowered it. I closed my eyes, an overwhelming exhaustion washing over me. I turned to leave. But Nathan wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Let me lean on you for a minute, honey. My stomach suddenly hurts.” I felt a strange sense of deja vu. When we first started dating, a client was giving me a hard time at a business dinner. Nathan chugged a whole bottle of hard liquor to defend me. The client never bothered me again, but Nathan ended up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer, a problem that still plagued him. “It was wrong of Wendy to leave a mark on my neck. I’ll have a word with her.” “I was wrong, too. Usually, after a date, I’d shower for three hours before seeing you. I was just so happy to hear that Mom was awake that I didn’t even look in the mirror.” I turned to look at him. His eyes were red, pleading, like a guilty puppy. “If you’re still not happy, I’ll make myself clean right now.” With that, he picked up a fruit knife and aimed it at the red mark on his neck. He was actually going to cut that piece of flesh out! It wasn’t until I saw the blood that I snapped out of it. I lunged forward and knocked the knife to the floor. “Are you crazy? That’s your neck! What if you seriously hurt yourself?” The blood was flowing freely now. Terrified, I tried to pull him toward the emergency room. But he just smiled, a happy, triumphant smile. “Sophia, you do still care about me.” “Now, go get ready for the engagement party. Do it for Mom.” I clenched my fists, then abruptly let them go. Finally, I heard my own strained voice. “Okay.” Nathan spared no expense, booking the most luxurious hotel in the city for a million-dollar engagement party. My mother, wanting to witness my happiness, insisted on attending in her wheelchair, despite my protests. I stood on the stage, lightly holding Nathan’s arm. He sensed my distance and forcefully intertwined his fingers with mine. The guests below looked on with envy. “So many men ditch their wives after they make it big. Mr. Marsden is still so devoted to his original partner. Mrs. Marsden really bet on the right horse.” “Just a few hours ago, the future Mrs. Marsden sent us a cancellation notice. I wonder what that was all about.” “Just a little lover’s spat. Only a guy like Mr. Marsden would put up with it. If my wife tried to pull a stunt like that, I’d have to teach her a lesson!” Their words were like needles, piercing my heart. Nathan had slept with Wendy countless times over the years, yet he could still act concerned and loving toward me without batting an eye. His calmness only made me look like the crazy one. Just then, a server rushed onto the stage and snatched the microphone. The moment she took off her mask, I realized it was Wendy. Tears streamed down her face. “I’m the one Nathan truly loves! If it weren’t for Sophia using the fact that her mother saved his life, we would have been married long ago!” My mind went blank. I instinctively looked at my mother. She was staring at Wendy in shock, her body trembling uncontrollably. “Mom!” I gathered my dress and ran to her side, screaming at the staff. “Call 911! Now!” When Nathan finally reacted, his eyes burned with fury. “Wendy, are you tired of living? You’re just a housekeeper in my home! Get the hell off this stage!” But Wendy pulled out a pregnancy test, kneeling before my mother and me. “But I’m carrying Nathan’s child.”

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The office was buzzing after my colleague Mark won a gold bar from a “heir’s mystery box.” Out of curiosity, I bought one too. My hands trembled as I opened it to find a set of lavender lace lingerie, carrying a scent I knew all too well—the exact set I had gifted my wife, Anna, for our anniversary. That evening, I casually asked Anna about the lingerie. She quickly claimed it had been ruined in the wash and thrown away, her eyes welling up with apology. I held her close, comforting her while my heart froze over. The next day, I discovered her cloud backup—texts with an unknown number discussing hiding that very lingerie. The sender was my boss, Arthur Donovan. 1. The air at the breakfast table felt thick, like syrup. Anna sat across from me, her head bent over her oatmeal, her hair pinned up loosely with a few strands falling around her ears. She was beautiful. If it weren’t for that damned mystery box, I would have looked at her, like I always did, and thought she was the purest woman in the world. “Anna,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence. Her hand jolted, spattering a few drops of oatmeal on the table. “Yes, Alex?” She looked up, but her smile was strained, her eyes refusing to meet mine. “That lingerie set,” I began, carefully peeling an egg, my tone so level it even surprised me. “Are you sure it was ruined in the wash?” Anna put her spoon down, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “Ugh, why are you still on about that?” Her voice was a mix of a pout and a complaint. “I told you, the lace was cheap. It just shredded in the machine, it was completely unwearable, so I tossed it.” “Alex, you don’t believe me, do you?” She stood up and walked around the table. Her arms wrapped around my neck from behind, her cheek pressing against mine. The familiar warmth of her skin. It used to feel like home. Now, it just felt… reptilian. “Of course I believe you,” I lied, patting the back of her hand. “It’s just a shame. I spent a long time picking it out.” “I’ll buy you a better one next time,” I added, a hollow promise. Anna let out a breath she’d clearly been holding and planted a loud, wet kiss on my cheek. “You’re the best, honey! I’m running late for work, got to go!” She grabbed her purse and practically fled towards the door, not even bothering to change into the heels she always wore. The moment the door clicked shut, the smile vanished from my face. I pulled out my phone and opened the cloud backup I’d made. The text messages burned on the screen like acid. [Don’t worry, it’s taken care of. What, can’t wait to have me again?] The timestamp on that reply was from a time when I was in the kitchen, cutting up fruit for her. Just a minute before, she had been complaining to me about how exhausting her job was, how her back ached. Now I knew how she got those aches. I walked over to the balcony and looked down. A familiar figure emerged from our building’s entrance. She didn’t head for the subway station. A black Maybach, sleek and silent as a shark, was parked by the curb. The driver’s window was halfway down, an arm resting on the frame, a cigarette dangling from two fingers. It was Donovan’s car. Anna glanced around furtively, like a thief in the night, before yanking the door open and sliding inside. The car peeled away from the curb, disappearing down the street. I lit a cigarette of my own, taking a long, hard drag. The smoke clawed at my lungs, a welcome, searing pain. Arthur Donovan. Heir to the Donovan Corp fortune. And the only son of my mentor, Richard Donovan. Years ago, Richard had paid for my entire university education. To repay that kindness, I turned down countless lucrative offers to stay at Donovan Corp, becoming their nameless, faceless lead engineer. Their workhorse. I rebuilt their entire backend architecture three times, secured them dozens of patents. Richard used to say, “Alex, you’re the cornerstone of this company. When Arthur takes over, he’ll take good care of you.” This was him taking care of me? Sleeping with my wife, then packaging his trophy and sending it to me as a joke? I crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray. The ember hissed and died. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play it, I wouldn’t disappoint them either. 2. The atmosphere in the office was strange. The interns, who usually greeted me with a cheerful “Morning, Alex!”, suddenly found the floor fascinating whenever I walked by. Whispers followed me from the break room. “Did you hear? The announcement came down from corporate.” “Something about a restructuring in the tech department…” I pushed open the door to my department without a change in expression. My desk had been moved. It used to be in the prime spot by the window, with the best view. Now it was crammed in a dark corner, wedged between the screaming industrial printer and the paper shredder. And sitting in my old chair, with his feet propped up on my old desk, was some kid with bleached-blond hair, furiously tapping away at a game on his phone. It was Donovan’s cousin, a moron who couldn’t tell the difference between Java and JavaScript. “Alex. Just the man I wanted to see,” Donovan said, stepping out of the director’s office. He had that smug, condescending smirk that only old money can truly perfect. “Mr. Donovan. What is the meaning of this?” I asked, gesturing to the sad little desk in the corner. “Oh, just a little company restructuring,” he said breezily. “The tech department needs some fresh blood. You’re not getting any younger, Alex. All that complex code must be a strain.” “Starting today, you’re being reassigned to the Facilities Support team. Your new duties will include… hmm, let’s see… fixing printers for the tech department, changing the water cooler jugs, that sort of thing.” The entire office fell silent. Everyone knew that the core of Donovan Corp’s technology existed solely inside my head. Asking me to fix printers wasn’t a demotion; it was a public execution. They were skinning me alive and stomping on my pride for everyone to see. “Donovan, this isn’t by the book,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, my voice dangerously calm. “The book?” He chuckled, a low, nasty sound. He walked over and clapped a hand on my shoulder, leaning in close so only I could hear. “At Donovan Corp, I am the book.” “Look, Alex, I know you were my dad’s golden boy. But my dad’s old news. This company might still have my family name on it, but it’s my company now.” He paused, his smirk widening. “And one more thing. Your wife? She’s got some real fire in her. For a woman who’s been married a few years… damn.” A roar of blood filled my ears. I felt the veins on the back of my hand bulge, my knuckles turning white. He was doing this on purpose. The mystery box, the public humiliation—it was all a game to him. “What’s the matter? Want to take a swing?” Donovan stepped back, spreading his hands in mock surrender. “Go on. Right here.” He tapped his cheek. “But that one punch will cost you everything. Your mother’s medical care, the house you bought for your parents, your reputation in this entire industry… all gone.” I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the murderous rage back down into the pit of my stomach. I was an adult. And in the adult world, violence was the last resort of the powerless. I was going to make him pay a price a thousand times more painful than a broken jaw. “You have a point, Mr. Donovan,” I said, unclenching my fists and forcing a smile. “I’ll follow the company’s arrangements.” Donovan blinked, clearly surprised by my compliance. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face; the show was over too soon. “Well, alright then. Since you’re being so cooperative, I have the perfect first assignment for you.” He picked up a folder from his desk and tossed it at my chest. “We’re having some issues at the new data center out west. We need someone on-site to oversee things.” “Your flight leaves tonight. I already had my assistant book the ticket.” The western data center. The middle of nowhere. It was a construction project, a job for civil engineers, not for a lead software architect. He was getting me out of the way. And it was painfully obvious what he planned to do with his free time. I bent down, picked up the folder, and brushed the dust from the cover. “Alright. I’ll go.” Donovan grinned, a triumphant, predatory expression. “That’s the spirit, Alex. You’ve got to learn your place.” He leaned in again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And don’t worry. I’ll be sure to ‘take good care’ of your dear wife while you’re away.” A few snickers echoed from his cronies nearby. I turned and walked away without looking back. 3. When I got home, the lights were off, but the apartment was flickering with candlelight. The dining table was covered with a lace tablecloth we rarely used, set with steak and a bottle of red wine. Anna was wearing a backless black evening gown, her makeup done to perfection. The moment she saw me, she rushed over and took my briefcase. “Honey, you’re home!” she chirped. “I know you’ve been so stressed at work lately, so I thought I’d make us a special candlelit dinner.” She led me to the table, eagerly pouring me a glass of wine. The flickering candlelight danced across the face I had loved for five years. Before yesterday, this gesture might have moved me to tears. “What’s the special occasion?” I asked, cutting into my steak. It was rare, bleeding onto the plate. “I just… felt like I’ve been neglecting you lately,” she said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, her movements just a little too jerky. “Alex, I know you’re still upset about the lingerie. I promise you, I will only ever love you. No matter what happens, my heart is always yours.” She reached across the table and placed her hand over mine. Her palm was damp, and I could feel a slight tremor. She was scared. Scared of what? That I’d find out the truth? Or that Donovan was putting too much pressure on her? I stared at her for a long moment. “Anna, what if…” I was about to test the waters when my phone, sitting on the table, buzzed. Anna snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned, grabbing her own phone instantly. The moment she saw the caller ID, the color drained from her face. She declined the call. A second later, it buzzed again. A video call this time. “Who is it? Why aren’t you answering?” I asked, putting down my fork, playing dumb. “Oh… it’s, uh, a telemarketer. So annoying,” she stammered, fumbling to silence the call and flipping the phone face down on the table. “Honey, my stomach suddenly feels a little upset. I’m just going to use the restroom.” She grabbed her phone and bolted for the bathroom. I couldn’t hear what she was saying through the closed door, but I didn’t need to. I knew it was Donovan. I pulled out my own phone and opened an app. It was for the drone I’d bought a few weeks back, a high-end model with night vision and auto-follow capabilities. Five minutes later, Anna emerged from the bathroom. She had already changed out of the evening gown and was now in a tracksuit and a baseball cap. “Alex, my… my friend Sarah just texted. She broke up with her boyfriend and is getting wasted at a bar. She needs me to go pick her up.” Her acting was atrocious. She couldn’t even look me in the eye. “It’s late. I’ll drive you,” I said, standing up. “No, no!” Her reaction was visceral; she actually took a step back. “I can just get an Uber. You have work tomorrow, you should get some rest.” Before I could protest further, she grabbed her keys from the entryway and hurried out the door. I didn’t move. I just sat there at the table, alone with the dying candles, and picked up the drone controller. The drone on the balcony lifted silently into the night sky. On the screen, I watched her familiar figure jog out of the complex. She didn’t call an Uber. The same black Maybach was waiting in the shadows behind our building. Anna pulled open the door and climbed in. The car didn’t leave right away. Through the night-vision lens, I could see two blurry silhouettes tangling together inside. My wife, the woman I had cherished, was straddling another man’s lap, kissing him with a desperate hunger. I switched off the screen. My heart, what was left of it, was officially dead. 4. I stood up and scraped the entire, meticulously prepared candlelit dinner into the trash can. Garbage belongs in the garbage. I went into our bedroom and opened Anna’s closet. I’d always respected her privacy, never snooping through her things. Now I realized what a complete and utter fool I’d been. Tucked away in the back, behind a pile of old clothes, were several bright orange boxes. Hermès. I didn’t know much about handbags, but I knew that brand. A single one of those bags was worth my entire yearly salary. I opened her jewelry box. A Cartier bracelet. A Bulgari necklace. A Van Cleef & Arpels clover pendant. All told, there had to be hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of merchandise here. Things we could never afford on our salaries. So, this was her “working overtime.” This was her “performance bonus.” This was her fighting so hard “for our family.” Oh, she was fighting hard, alright. On her back in Donovan’s bed. I took everything out, piece by piece, and laid it all on our bed. It felt like I was curating an exhibition on the art of betrayal. How ironic. I worked myself to the bone for Donovan Corp for a respectable, but ultimately modest, salary. My boss slept with my wife and casually tossed her trinkets worth more than years of my sweat and blood. What was I in all this? A pawn in their sick game? The clueless husband in a twisted joke? Two in the morning. The sound of a key in the lock. Anna was back. She tiptoed into the dark apartment, trying to slip into the bedroom unnoticed. Click. I hit the switch for the living room lights. The sudden brightness made her flinch, throwing a hand up to shield her eyes. I was sitting on the sofa. In front of me, on the coffee table, was the collection of designer bags and jewelry. And next to them, a printed copy of my business trip itinerary. “A-Alex?” she stammered, the flush of passion still visible on her cheeks. She was wearing a different set of clothes. Her hair was damp and smelled of hotel shampoo. “Why are you still awake?” Her eyes darted to the pile of luxury goods, and her pupils constricted in terror. “Th-those are Sarah’s! She’s moving and didn’t have space, so she asked me to store them here!” The lies came so easily to her now. I didn’t call her on it. If she wanted to act, we would act. “I know,” I said, standing up and picking up the itinerary. “Donovan just called me. There’s an emergency at the western site. He wants me on the first flight out.” “I was about to leave, but I wanted to see you one last time.” Anna was stunned into silence. This was clearly not the confrontation she had been expecting. As she looked at my calm face, the panic in her eyes slowly morphed into something else. Guilt? Or was it relief? “It’s that urgent…?” she murmured, stepping forward, reaching out as if to straighten my collar. I subtly sidestepped her touch. “Yes. Very.” “You take care of yourself while I’m gone.” I picked up the suitcase I’d already packed and walked toward the door. “Alex!” she called out from behind me. I paused, my hand on the doorknob, but I didn’t turn around. “What is it?” “Be safe… and come home soon.” Her voice was trembling. A cold, humorless smile touched my lips. Come home soon? To watch more of your little show? “Don’t worry,” I said as I opened the door and stepped into the darkness of the hallway. “By the time I get back, everything will be over.” Behind me, Anna suddenly clutched her chest, a wave of inexplicable dread washing over her. I didn’t go to the airport. I hailed a cab and went straight to a 24-hour gaming cafe downtown. I got a private booth and booted up the computer. The moment my fingers touched the keyboard, I felt alive again. You want to corner me? Fine. I’ll leave you with nowhere to run. I took out a burner phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. It was Richard Donovan’s private line. “Hello? Who is this?” Richard’s voice, though aged, was still full of authority. “Mr. Donovan, it’s Alex.” “Alex? What’s going on this late at night?” “Nothing major,” I said, my eyes fixed on the streams of code scrolling rapidly down the monitor, my voice as cold as the hum of the machine. “I’m just calling to inform you of something.” “The money you gave me for my education, plus ten years of interest… I’ve paid it back a hundredfold with my work over the last decade.” “As of this moment, I owe the Donovan family nothing.” “And for what I’m about to do next… I sincerely hope you’re prepared.”

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On my way to visit my mother’s grave, I scrolled through a forum and saw a post titled, “What’s the most pathetic lapdog you’ve ever seen?” The top reply read: “My brother-in-law — but he’s not loyal to my sister. He’s mine. I’m the illegitimate daughter nobody acknowledged. On my 18th birthday, I ran over my dad’s wife to help my mom take her place. My sister wanted justice, so my lapdog married her, signed papers to clear me, and they sent me abroad. Every time she got pregnant, he’d arrange an ‘accident’—until she couldn’t conceive anymore. But I’m kind, so I’ll help her: my 5-year-old son with her husband will soon be ‘adopted’ by her. Soon she’ll raise my child herself.” She even posted a vacation photo, boasting how every year on the anniversary of “that woman’s” death, her brother-in-law, father, and mother celebrate her birthday instead. I stared at the photo. The man’s tattoo was exactly like my husband’s. Walking toward my mother’s headstone, it hit me. That lapdog… was my husband. 1. The forum users, stunned by Kiera’s shamelessness, unleashed a torrent of abuse. She just reveled in it. [Go ahead and curse me out. Nothing you type can change my reality.] [While she’s all alone, mourning her useless mother at some cemetery, her own father and her own husband are right here with me, celebrating my birthday.] [She and her mother are nothing but complete and utter failures!] Beneath that, she posted another picture. The deed to a house. The critical details were blurred out, but I recognized it in a heartbeat. It was the old house my mother had left me. Kiera added another comment, each letter a monument to her arrogance: [See this? All I did was mention I ‘liked’ the place, and her pathetic lapdog of a husband immediately transferred the deed of his wife’s childhood home into my name.] [Back in the day, her mother fought tooth and nail to keep my mom from ever setting foot in that house. And now? My mom and I live there, out in the open, and she’s still completely clueless.] [Save your energy. I was just born lucky. Every single person in her life pretends to be good to her, but deep down, they’re all on my side.] I stared at the screen, an icy dread crawling up my spine, freezing me from the inside out. A memory from five years ago flooded my mind with brutal clarity. Daniel had come home that night looking utterly broken, his voice trembling as he held me. “Sophia, honey, my investments… they all went bust. The credit line’s been cut… If I can’t cover the losses, I could go to jail.” “I’m so useless. I wanted to give you a better life, and instead, I’ve lost everything.” Seeing him so defeated, a sight I had never witnessed before, felt like a physical blow. Money could be earned again, but if his spirit was broken, we would have nothing. Without a second thought, I went and retrieved the deed to my mother’s old house. I pressed it into his hands and told him to use it as collateral to get through the crisis. He looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed, and pulled me into a crushing hug. “Sophia, thank you… Marrying you was the best thing that ever happened to me. Trust me, as soon as I get back on my feet, I will get that house back for you.” It was all a lie. The bankruptcy, the threat of prison… it was all an act. A performance designed to trick me into giving up the last thing my mother left me, just so he could hand it over to Kiera as a gift. Her posts had ignited a firestorm. Users started new threads just to condemn her. [This mother-daughter homewrecker duo makes me sick. The mom steals the husband, the daughter steals the next generation’s husband. They’re like vultures preying on one family!] [BUMP THIS TO THE TOP! The wife has to see this! She needs to see the true faces of the vipers she has coiled around her!] Reading the furious comments, silent tears streamed down my face. I knelt before my mother’s grave, carefully arranging the offerings. Mom, don’t you worry. Everything they owe us… I will take it all back. With interest. As I left the cemetery, the chill still clung to my bones. Just then, my phone vibrated. It was Daniel. The moment I answered, his voice, oozing with gentle apology, filled my ear. “Honey, I’m so sorry. A last-minute business trip came up, and I couldn’t get out of it. I couldn’t be there with you to see Mom.” “You’re always so alone… it breaks my heart. You know, maybe… maybe we should adopt a child?” “That way, when I’m busy, you’ll have someone to keep you company.” 2. So the mask was finally starting to slip. A hot wave of rage surged through me, but I forced it back down, swallowing the bile in my throat. “Sophia? Are you there?” “Hello? Honey?” “…I’m here,” I finally managed to say. Daniel let out a sigh of relief, his voice becoming even more tender. “Sophia, you saw the results from your last check-up. The doctor said you’re prone to miscarriages… it’s going to be difficult for us to have a child of our own.” “And I can’t bear to see you suffer for it, all those shots and pills… it kills me.” “So, honey, please think about it. What if we just adopt?” I almost laughed out loud. No one on this earth knew better than him why I was prone to miscarriages. I thought of Kiera’s post, of the “accidents,” and I fought back the stinging burn in my eyes. I squeezed a single, sharp word from between my teeth. “Fine.” Getting the answer he wanted, he audibly relaxed on the other end. “Great! We can talk about the details when I get back!” “You just wait for me at home, okay? I’ll bring you back a present.” He hung up immediately, not bothering to waste another second on pleasantries now that he had what he wanted. After that call, Daniel vanished. For three whole days, there was nothing. Not a word. Before, I would have made excuses for him. He’s on a business trip, he’s working hard for our future, I can’t bother him. I would have sent him timid little texts—”Remember to eat,” “Try to get some rest”—my heart aching for how “hard” he was working. Thinking back on it now, it was pathetic. He wasn’t busy. He was just desperate to run to his true love and prove his loyalty. Three days later, Daniel finally reappeared. The moment he walked in, he opened his arms for a hug, nuzzling his chin into the crook of my neck, his voice syrupy. “Honey, I missed you so much these past few days~” “Do you know, looking at your pictures was the only thing that got me through it. Now that I’m back… you’re going to have to make it up to me.” His warm breath on my ear was heavy with suggestion. The old me would have melted, completely putty in his hands. Now, all I felt was a wave of physical revulsion. “Let go of me!” The words escaped as a harsh command. I tore myself from his embrace. He froze, stunned for a second. Then, as if a switch flipped in his brain, his expression softened into that familiar, considerate mask. “Sophia, I know you’re angry that I couldn’t go with you on Mom’s anniversary,” he explained, taking my hand and pressing it against his own cheek. “It was my fault. Go ahead, hit me. Get it out of your system. I won’t fight back.” “Anything, as long as it makes you feel better.” His acting was clumsy, riddled with flaws. It was laughable that I had been so blind for so long, that I had ever believed him. I said nothing. I didn’t hit him. He took my silence as forgiveness. He immediately pivoted to his real agenda. “By the way, honey, remember what I said about adoption?” he said, striking while the iron was hot. “I didn’t want you to worry about all the details, so I just brought him home with me. I wanted you to meet him first, see if you connect?” He clapped his hands. Before I could process what was happening, his assistant walked in, leading a little boy of about five or six by the hand. The boy was quiet, but his features sent a jolt of ice through my heart. In his eyes, his brow… there was an unmistakable resemblance to Kiera. Rage, pure and primal, shot through me. This was my mother’s killer’s son. If I’d had any lingering doubts about the forum post, they were now all but gone. “H-Hello, ma’am…” the boy whispered, his voice timid. My entire body went rigid, my fingertips turning to ice. Daniel, however, acted perfectly natural, taking my hand and guiding it toward the boy’s head. “His name is Cody. He’s five. Grew up in an orphanage, very smart and well-behaved. From now on, when I’m not home, he’ll be here to keep you company—” “Enough!” I snatched my hand back as if I’d been burned. The boy, startled by my outburst, burst into tears. Daniel immediately knelt down to comfort him. When he looked back up at me, his eyes were flashing with anger. “Sophia! I’m your husband, so you can take your anger out on me. But the child is innocent! How can you yell at a child like that?” The way he hovered over the boy, so protective and pained, he was the very picture of a loving father. And why wouldn’t he be? He was the boy’s biological father. This was the child he had with the woman who murdered my mother. It took every ounce of my willpower not to scream the truth in his face. I suppressed the violent trembling in my hands, gave him and the boy one last, cold look, and walked upstairs, locking the bedroom door behind me. I opened my palm. Inside were several strands of hair I had discreetly plucked from the boy’s head. I dialed my lawyer’s number. He had been my mother’s closest friend. For years, he had been quietly investigating her death, searching for the real killer. “Mr. Coleman, Kiera is back in the country.” 3. I carefully sealed the strands of hair in a small plastic bag. “She has a child with her, about five years old.” “I have a hair sample from the boy. I need you to arrange a paternity test and a full background check on him. Immediately.” “This time,” I said, my voice low and hard, “I’m going to make sure she pays for what she did.” After hanging up, I stared at the bag in my hand, a heavy weight settling in my chest. My phone buzzed. The forum post had been updated again. [That idiot actually dared to give me attitude. I generously let my lapdog bring our son for her to raise, and she’s not even grateful?] [Whatever. It’s not like she’s ever been smart. The lapdog only married her so he could sign my release papers, and she still hasn’t figured it out after all these years.] [I’ll just have him sweet-talk her a bit more. There’s no way she’ll refuse to adopt him in the end.] [Besides, I even ‘sacrificed’ the failed prototype of that seashell bracelet we made together. He can use it to calm her down.] Attached was a close-up photo of an exquisite seashell bracelet on her wrist. Just as I exited the app, Daniel pushed the door open. “Honey, I’m sorry. I was too hasty with the adoption thing. I didn’t think it through.” I quickly shoved the bag of hair into my pocket. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his voice soft and placating. “I’ve already had my assistant take the boy for now. We can wait until you’re ready.” “Don’t be angry anymore. Look what I brought you.” He produced a velvet box. Inside lay a seashell bracelet. It was identical to the one in Kiera’s photo, but the craftsmanship was crude, the shells and tiny diamonds dull and lifeless. The “failed prototype,” just as she’d said. “It will look beautiful on you,” he murmured, leaning in to fasten it around my wrist. A sickening feeling rose in my throat. I instinctively recoiled, yanking my hand away. “Don’t touch me!” The bracelet flew from his grasp, shattering on the floor. Daniel shot to his feet, the gentle mask cracking and falling away. “Sophia, there’s a limit to your tantrums!” he roared. He wasn’t even trying to pretend anymore. Was he angry because of my attitude? Or because I had just destroyed the precious keepsake he made with his true love? He continued his tirade. “So what if I was busy with work and missed your mother’s anniversary? I was doing it for our future!” “Besides, I tried to make it up to you! I brought home a child so you wouldn’t be lonely, I bought you a gift to cheer you up, and what do I get? You throw it all back in my face! Is this how a wife is supposed to act?” “Let me tell you something,” he snarled, his voice raw with fury, “you’re adopting that child whether you like it or not!” Seeing his rage finally boil over, revealing his true intentions, a cold smile formed on my lips. “Honey, I…” Daniel trailed off, seeing the look on my face. He seemed to realize he’d gone too far and tried to backtrack, but I gave him no chance. I pushed past him and left the room. That same day, I delivered the hair sample to the lab Mr. Coleman had arranged. Then I checked into a hotel to wait for the results. Two days passed. I didn’t hear from my lawyer, but I did get a call from my father. “Sophia, why are you becoming as unreasonable as your dead mother?!” he bellowed the moment I answered. “Daniel is a busy man! He was thoughtful enough to find a child to keep you company, and you throw a fit?” Thoughtful? I laughed silently, bitterly. They had all conspired to trick me into raising my mother’s murderer’s child, and I was supposed to be grateful? Before I could say a word, he delivered his ultimatum. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Daniel’s idea to adopt is a good one, and I’ve already given him my approval.” “The adoption ceremony is tomorrow. As the child’s adoptive mother, you are required to be there.” He hung up. Almost simultaneously, a message came through from Mr. Coleman. I opened the attached file, my eyes scanning the key lines of the paternity test and the background investigation. A slow, cold smile spread across my face. Oh, I’d be there. I wouldn’t miss the adoption ceremony for the world. I wanted to watch, with my own two eyes, as a murderer was finally brought to justice.

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The week before New Year’s Eve, I realized my boyfriend had become a different person. It wasn’t just his habits that had changed; he seemed more mature, more grounded. Even his hobbies were different. He was suddenly into artisanal teas and wellness, no longer obsessed with extreme sports. In bed, he was… reserved. Almost disciplined. Never greedy. I thought he’d finally grown up, that he was ready to settle down with me and build a future, done with the usual parade of party girls. But then I came home early to surprise him for his birthday and overheard him on the phone. “Bro, just keep Aria steady for a little while longer. I’ll be back in a bit. Thanks for covering for me.” My boyfriend’s voice replied, “It’s fine. By the way, what brand of condoms do you usually use? I think Aria is allergic to everything I’ve tried.” Hearing that, my breath hitched. So, the changes weren’t my imagination. Without me knowing, my boyfriend’s twin brother had quietly clocked in for his shift. 1. The voice on the other end—Declan’s voice—stuttered. “Bro, why are you asking that? We don’t usually use them. She’s on the pill.” “Just curious,” Rhys, the man in my apartment, replied. “Is she giving you a hard time? Women are like that, always needy. Just ignore her. Give her the cold shoulder for a few days, and she’ll fall in line.” Even though Declan was confident his brother wouldn’t be interested in me, a hint of unease crept into his voice. “Bro, maybe you should move out. The less you see her, the better. We can just coordinate online. Sloane insisted I take this trip with her, and we’re still on the road.” Rhys’s voice was low. “I know.” I stood in the shadows, holding my breath. So, Declan was on a trip with Sloane. It was almost funny. They swore there was nothing between them, that they were just “best friends.” Yet he would rather have his twin brother live alone with his girlfriend than miss a secret vacation with Sloane. The truth of it left my mind a blank slate. My first instinct was to flee, but in my haste, I bumped into the robotic vacuum cleaner on the floor. The living room light flicked on. Rhys’s eyes found me instantly. My heart leaped into my throat. I forced myself to look at him, to really observe him. He was different from Declan. Rhys’s gaze was deep, unreadable. Declan’s eyes always had a mischievous glint, constantly calculating his next lie. Just as I thought he was about to blow his cover, he simply said, “Is that cake for me?” I lifted the box. Declan’s name was written on it in frosted icing. Before I could speak, he took it from my hands. “Thank you. I love it. I almost forgot it was my birthday.” Of course. They were twins. It was his birthday, too. “Happy birthday,” I heard myself say. Rhys closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around my rigid body, his lips gently brushing against mine. I took a sharp breath. I didn’t know when they’d switched, but in the time since, he and I had done… everything. My heart hammered against my ribs. I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out his gift. “For you.” It was a tie, a ridiculously expensive one. The color was bright, flashy—a color Declan loved, but one I doubted Rhys would ever choose for himself. Yet he opened it without a change in expression, took my hand, and guided me to tie it around his neck. His large hand rested on the small of my back, his touch sending shivers through me as his eyes darkened with a familiar hunger. “…” Wait, wasn’t this the guy who was into “wellness” and self-restraint? The next thing I knew, he was carrying me into the bedroom, his kisses peppering my skin. He used the new tie to gently bind my wrists above my head. I started to struggle, but his next words stopped me cold. “I took one of your birth control pills. So this time, you won’t have a reaction.” 2. The first time I suspected something was wrong with “Declan” was when he suddenly started using condoms. That was completely out of character. It started as a nagging suspicion, but then things got worse. Sex, which had always been great, suddenly became painful. I picked a huge fight with him over it. The next morning, I woke up covered in a painful, swollen rash. I was convinced he’d done something weird and stormed into his office to confront him. It was only later that I found out I was allergic to the latex. After that, “Declan” didn’t touch me for a week. He was incredibly attentive, personally applying cream to the rash. This pampered rich boy, who had never set foot in a kitchen, actually started cooking for me. The day I saw him making me soup, I was genuinely terrified. In all my years with the real Declan, he’d never so much as boiled water. At the time, I thought it was a sign he was finally changing, the playboy settling down. I never imagined the man himself wasn’t the original model. Once the rash cleared up, Rhys tried a different type of condom. I had another allergic reaction, though milder this time. The look on his face when he saw the rash was thunderous. I braced myself for an outburst, but instead, he just said, “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.” I was speechless. In all my time being mistreated by the arrogant real Declan, I had never once heard him apologize. “It’s… it’s okay…” Rhys pulled me into a tender embrace, his lips finding mine. I melted into the kiss, my head spinning. At the same time, a thought drifted through my mind: When did Declan get so good at kissing? It wasn’t that he was better, just… gentler. The real Declan used to bite. Especially my collarbone. It hurt like hell. Day by day, Rhys’s every action drew me in more. On weekends, he no longer disappeared to clubs with his “girlfriends.” Instead, he’d hold me in his lap and teach me calligraphy, his warm breath tickling my ear as he guided my hand. His voice was a low murmur that made my heart pound. No! If this continues, I’m going to actually fall for him. Loving the real Declan was a losing game. It was all about his money and his face, nothing more. But this man seemed determined to make me fall. When I was working, he’d massage my shoulders. When I was relaxing, he’d hold me close. Even in bed, he was never forceful. Afterwards, no matter how late it was, he would gently clean me up. I was so overwhelmed by the change that I had to debrief with my friends. Their verdict was unanimous. “He’s in love with you! He wants to marry you!” Hearing that, I’ll admit, I was thrilled. But was it really possible? Could a serial cheater, a man who flirted with anything that moved, truly change his ways? Now I knew the answer. No. Not only would he not change, he’d literally sell his own girlfriend out. The man who had been so good to me was Rhys. Declan’s twin brother. A bitter taste filled my mouth. But hey, if this was his choice, who was I to complain? 3. The next morning, I woke up in Rhys’s arms, our naked skin pressed together. His perfectly sculpted chest was right under my palm. I swallowed hard. Rhys, his eyes still closed, nuzzled my cheek. “You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep. “Hungry?” As if on cue, my stomach growled. A smile touched Rhys’s lips. He sat up, wrapped me in the duvet, and scooped me into his arms. I looped my arms around his neck. “Baby, will you love me forever?” I cooed, playing the part. He was a natural liar, not even blinking. “Of course I will.” He carried me to the bathroom, brushed my teeth for me, and dressed me. Breakfast, a lavish spread he’d had delivered, was already waiting. I sat at the table, watching him. “Declan, you know, you’ve changed a lot lately.” His fingers froze for a split second. “Oh? How so? Changed in a way you like better?” he asked, mimicking Declan’s playful tone, his eyes dancing. It was the same face, but the feeling was completely different. “You were never this gentle before.” His long eyelashes fluttered. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my wrist. “Baby, I just want to make things better for you.” You can’t provoke a man, especially by comparing him to another. The moment I put my fork down, he swept me up and carried me back to the bedroom. If it weren’t for the fact that his hand was already sliding under my shirt, his serious expression might have convinced me he had business to attend to. “Is this better, or was it better before?” he asked, his voice strained. I closed my eyes, feigning concentration. “Now is better, definitely better.” His hand tightened on my waist, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead onto my cheek. When it was over, I lay in bed, scrolling on my phone. Rhys went to take a shower. His phone, left on the nightstand, buzzed. A message from Declan popped up on the screen. [Bro, how are things with Aria? Has she suspected anything?] [Bro, I’ll try to be back soon. I got you a gift.] Below it was a picture. Two hands, Declan’s and Sloane’s, pressed together, holding a pink crystal rose. [Bro, isn’t this crystal gorgeous? If you like it, I’ll bring one back for you.] Declan’s hands were identical to Rhys’s, right down to the lines on his palm. A wicked smile spread across my face. I tapped out a reply. [Who’s this? My boyfriend’s in the shower.] There was a long pause from the other end. A second later, the bathroom door flew open. Rhys emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist. He saw me with his phone and rushed over. “Someone keeps calling you ‘bro’,” I said innocently. “Who is he?” Rhys masked the complex emotions in his eyes. “He’s the neighbor’s kid.” I suppressed a laugh. I wondered how Declan would feel knowing his own brother had demoted him to the kid next door. “He said he’s bringing you a gift. That crystal is really pretty.” Rhys pulled me into a hug, kissing my cheek. “I’ll buy you one, honey.” And as he held me, I slipped the tiny listening device I’d bought to catch Declan cheating into his pocket. The deal had been fifty grand for every time I caught him. The phone in Rhys’s hand started buzzing incessantly. I guessed Declan was starting to panic. A few seconds later, it rang. A call. Rhys pulled away. “I’ve got to take this. You get some rest.” I watched him go, the smile slowly fading from my eyes. 4. “Bro, what are you and Aria doing? Why did she just message me from your phone?” Out in the hallway, Rhys listened to Declan’s suspicious tone, his own voice perfectly calm. “My clothes were dirty, so I was taking a shower.” Declan audibly relaxed. “Oh, is that it? Good. I was thinking of cutting the trip short anyway. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Rhys didn’t say anything. Declan suddenly sounded anxious. “Bro, I think I’m done playing around. Being out here made me realize how good Aria is. You’d be okay with me marrying her, right?” The question was laced with a desperate, thinly veiled attempt to gauge Rhys’s feelings. “Of course. If that’s what you both want.” Declan let out a huge sigh of relief. What was he thinking? Rhys had seen all kinds of women; why would he ever be interested in a woman his own brother had slept with? He felt foolish for even suspecting him. After a few more pleasantries, Declan made an excuse and hung up. When Rhys came back, I found an opportunity to retrieve the bug. “Declan, what happened?” I asked, my face a mask of innocence. “You look so preoccupied.” Rhys cupped my face, his voice low. “Aria, will you stay with me forever?” “Of course I will.” “And do you like me now, or the way I was before?” he pressed, even though he’d asked the same question just three hours ago. My lips curved into a small smile. “I like them both.” I wasn’t about to give him a straight answer. If Rhys decided this game was over, I could still go back to Declan. But if he wanted to keep playing, the pressure was all on him. Just as I predicted, my answer left him looking lost. He pulled me into a tight hug, as if clutching something he was about to lose. The moment was charged with a desperate longing, and soon we were kissing again, a tangle of limbs and soft murmurs. He unzipped my dress, his body pressing me down onto the bed. But the next second, the doorbell rang. The carefully constructed atmosphere shattered. This apartment was a gift from Declan. No one else would just show up unannounced. There was only one possibility. Declan was back. Ahead of schedule. And the room, littered with the evidence of our afternoon, was not fit for company. I looked up at Rhys. He swallowed hard. “I’ll get it.” Sooner or later, this had to happen. He opened the door. Declan stood there, still in his hiking gear. The smile on his face vanished the moment he saw the rose petals scattered across the floor. I looked straight at him. “Oh, you must be Declan’s brother,” I said sweetly. “Can I help you?” I knew Declan had a twin. A pained, forced smile stretched across Declan’s face, but his eyes burned with rage. Aria hadn’t even recognized him. Did he mean anything to her at all? “I’m here to see him,” Declan ground out, his gaze fixed on Rhys. “We need to talk. Outside.” His fists were clenched at his sides. I smiled, adding more fuel to the fire. I wrapped my arms around Rhys’s arm and kissed his cheek. “Honey, come back soon. I’ll be waiting for you.” In less than a second, Rhys shoved me away. Declan’s fist connected with his face. I let out a theatrical shriek. “What are you doing? Don’t hit my boyfriend!”

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1 I was the village punching bag. Anyone who felt like it could take a shot. But every single person who bullied me ended up crippled, one way or another. My foster mother, who called me a “bastard” and tried to sell me, was struck dumb. My foster brother, who locked me in the pigpen, was swarmed by the hogs and left paralyzed. My foster father, who stole my money, lost a hand in a gambling den. And the mayor’s son, who wanted to play a “stripping game” with me, lost the one thing that made him a man. When my wealthy birth parents finally came looking for me, the butcher knife in my hand was still dripping with blood. It was only then that the villagers realized I wasn’t a punching bag. I was a goddamn psycho. I thought my real parents would be horrified, but instead, their faces lit up with excitement. “Honey, we’re being bullied. Please, will you come home and help us?” … The mayor’s son lay in a rapidly expanding pool of his own blood and gore. My hand, holding the knife, didn’t even tremble. “Jed! My boy!” The mayor shoved his way through the stunned crowd, his usually commanding face now the color of bleached paper. He stumbled, his knees giving out, and collapsed into the bloody mess, clutching his son’s mangled body. His eyes, burning with a hatred that could have flayed me alive, fixed on me in utter disbelief. “You did this? You bitch!” His roar snapped the villagers out of their trance. The crowd erupted in a chaotic buzz, but strangely, no one dared to step forward. Instead, they all took a collective step back. “God Almighty, Jed’s… his thing… is it chopped off?” “It was Quinn. How could she?” “But… but she’s the girl who never fights back! The one who takes every insult without a word!” A wave of terror washed over them. They stared at me as if seeing me for the very first time. Faced with their questions, I just couldn’t understand the fuss. I offered a helpful explanation. “He said we were good friends and wanted to play a stripping game. But good friends should be the same, right? I don’t have one, so why should he?” Dead silence fell over the yard. Then, from somewhere in the quiet, a trembling voice piped up. “Her foster mom called her a bastard, and the next day she was poisoned dumb, can’t even talk now.” “Her foster brother threw her in the pigpen, and then he got mauled by the pigs. He’s still laid up in bed, can’t move.” “Her foster father… he stole the money she’d saved up, and a few days later, some thugs chopped off his arm!” “And… and what about that creep who tried to have his way with her a while back? He fell and broke his leg, nearly drowned in the river.” All these incidents, once dismissed as bizarre coincidences, were now being threaded together, and every single thread pointed directly at me—the girl who always kept her head down, the girl who took everything they dished out. The fear in the crowd curdled into pure horror. Seeing the hint of a smile on my face, a woman stumbled backward, scrambling away on her hands and knees. “Monster…” she whimpered. “She’s a monster!” “Could it be? Did she do all of it?” another man stammered, his legs barely holding him up. I ignored them, finding a rough stone to sharpen my knife. The blade was getting dull. A dull knife makes for a messy, unsatisfying job. Just then, a long, black Maybach pushed its way through the dirt roads of our village. A man and a woman, dripping with wealth but looking deeply troubled, stepped out. Their eyes scanned the crowd and locked onto me with unnerving precision. Before I could react, the woman rushed forward and threw her arms around me, her voice a raw, desperate cry. “My darling daughter, I’ve finally found you! Oh, thank God!” I tensed, unused to being touched. My questioning gaze met the red-rimmed eyes of the middle-aged man standing beside her. “Quinn,” he explained, his voice thick with emotion. “We did a test. You’re our biological daughter.” The villagers gasped, their eyes darting between me, my supposed parents, and the multi-million dollar car. The terror on their faces began to fade, replaced by a hungry, predatory greed. “So you’re her parents? Let me tell you, your daughter has hurt a lot of people in this village!” “That’s right! We all raised her, you know. How are you planning on thanking us?” “Just look at our mayor’s son, still bleeding on the ground! What are you going to do about that?” The crowd parted, revealing the gruesome scene of the mayor cradling his bloody son. The sticky, crimson mud, the severed piece of flesh lying nearby… it was enough to make anyone gag. But the man, my father, didn’t even flinch. He turned to me, his tone as gentle as if he were asking about the weather. “Quinn, did you do this?” Quinn. I liked the name. So I answered casually, “His little toy was always wiggling around where it shouldn’t. I didn’t like the look of it.” These rich people, I’d seen them on TV. All polished and proper. They wouldn’t want a daughter like me. I was about to tell them not to bother taking me home, but then I heard their thoughts, loud and clear. My God, our daughter is a certified badass! That’s how a woman should be! Fierce! That’s my girl! Alistair Croft’s daughter! Now, how should I deal with this pack of vultures? Interesting. For years, everyone in this village had avoided me like the plague. This was the first time anyone had ever actually liked me for who I was. This family… I’ll check it out. 2 I turned to the two people who looked so much like me and gave my order. “I’ll go with you.” Alistair and Evelyn Croft exchanged a look, on the verge of tears of joy. But the villagers weren’t having it. Their lust for money had finally overpowered their fear of me. One by one, they stepped forward, blocking our path. “Hold on! You’re not leaving without compensating us!” “Yeah, your daughter assaulted someone! You think you can just walk away?” “Let me tell you, if you don’t pay up today, none of you are leaving this village!” The mayor laid his unconscious son down and slowly walked over. “Sir, Ma’am,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “Your daughter did, in fact, harm my son. It’s not unreasonable for the entire village to demand some form of justice, is it?” My father, Alistair, started to step forward, but I blocked him with my knife. The huge butcher knife spun in my hand like a tiny toy. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump of me catching the handle seemed to beat in time with every villager’s heart. A few of them started trembling again. That silent, primal terror crept back onto their faces. I flashed a deceptively innocent smile, then slipped into the car. As the engine roared to life and we pulled away, the crowd was still frozen in place, paralyzed by my presence. Soon, the car entered a quiet, gated community of sprawling mansions. Alistair honked the horn several times, expecting a groundskeeper to open the wrought iron gates, but the man standing by the entrance didn’t move a muscle, acting as if he hadn’t heard a thing. Alistair shot me an embarrassed smile, trying to salvage some dignity. “We’re… very relaxed with our staff here. Very lenient.” His thoughts, however, were a storm of curses. That useless boyfriend of Tiffany’s is really pushing it. I pay him fifty thousand a month, he’s always joyriding in my cars, and now he won’t even open the gate for me? Am I going to have to get out and open it myself, like I always do? But what will Quinn think? She’ll think I’m a pushover. I just smiled, grabbed the steering wheel, and stomped on the gas. The car lunged forward with the force of a battering ram, aiming straight for the man. With a sickening crunch of metal on bone, the million-dollar Maybach’s front end crumpled. The man had jumped back, but not fast enough. One of his legs was caught, pinned and broken. “Alistair, are you insane? You hit me! You got a death wish?!” Still screaming like a dog, even with a broken leg. Annoying. I revved the engine again, the car inching forward as if to crush him completely. The man’s eyes widened in terror as the tire stopped just a centimeter from his chest. That’s my girl! I’ve wanted to get rid of that little punk for ages! She really took out the trash for me today! Where did she learn to drive like that? I need lessons! I got out of the car, my movements sharp and efficient, and looked at my two shell-shocked parents. “Am I in charge of this house?” Confused, Alistair and Evelyn nodded. Satisfied, I walked over to the man on the ground and planted my foot directly on his shattered leg. “AGHHHHH! IT HURTS! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” “Stop it! Who dares touch my man? Do you want to die?!” A sharp, shrill female voice cut through the air. I looked up to see a woman in a fiery red dress storming toward us, her face a mask of fury. Trailing behind her was a slim, pale girl in a white dress. Oh my god, is that my real sister? She’s so cool! She actually dared to mess with Tiffany’s boyfriend. So, the timid girl with the curious eyes must be the fake heiress, Sophie. The girl in red, Tiffany, saw us and struck a haughty pose. “Get your filthy foot off my boyfriend!” Seeing her, the man on the ground seemed to find his backbone, his voice turning into a pathetic whine. “Babe, you have to stand up for me! They drove right into me! If I’m… broken… how will I keep my baby happy?” His voice grated on my ears like a rusty hinge. I pressed down harder with my foot. Strangely, Alistair and Evelyn, who had stood their ground against the entire village, now seemed to shrink in on themselves in front of this younger woman, Tiffany. “Tiffany, we’re all family here,” Alistair pleaded. “Quinn didn’t mean it. Uncle will transfer five million to your account as an apology.” Evelyn also forced a smile, trying to smooth things over. “It’s all a misunderstanding, just a misunderstanding! We didn’t do it on purpose!” Even Sophie, the quiet girl, tried to pull Tiffany back. “Tiffany, please, let’s just drop it. I’ll give you that sculpture you liked, okay?” But her thoughts were frantic. I have to calm Tiffany down, or she’ll bully my new sister just like she bullies me. I frowned. Bullying? I don’t have much empathy, but if there’s one thing I despise, it’s people who use their power to torment others. Tiffany, soaking in the apologies and appeasements, started to look smug. She crossed her arms, staring down at me. “Fine. I’ll let it go. But first, I want her on her knees, barking like a dog.” 3 Alistair’s face hardened. “Tiffany, that’s going too far! Quinn is your cousin, your elder cousin.” Evelyn was right behind him. “Absolutely not! We will not let you do that!” Sophie’s eyes instantly welled with tears, her lip trembling. “Tiffany, if you have to break someone’s leg, break mine! You can do whatever you want to me!” she pleaded. “My sister just got here, she doesn’t know the rules of the house. Please, let it go this time!” The sight of my new family, so pathetic and weak, begging for mercy, struck a nerve. I hate cowards. A fire ignited in my gut. I lifted my foot off the man. Tiffany was about to say something triumphant, a smug smirk already forming on her lips, but she never got the chance. The crack of the blow echoed through the driveway. I slapped her so hard she flew sideways and landed in a heap on the manicured lawn. For five full seconds, no one moved. Then, a flood of silent thoughts crashed over me. What did she just do? She hit Tiffany? That’s it, she’s my hero! Am I seeing things? My daughter just did what her father never had the guts to do! But what am I going to do when my brother comes looking for revenge? Holy hell! A true warrior! That bastard Marcus won’t be able to steal our family fortune now! Tiffany lay on the ground, stunned. “You… you… you hit me.” I flexed my wrist, then grabbed the collar of Tiffany’s dress, hauling her up like a stray dog. She struggled uselessly, completely powerless in my grip. The household staff, drawn by the commotion, stared in horror as I dragged the family’s proudest peacock across the gravel. A wave of whispers rippled through them, but one hard look from me silenced them instantly. I dragged her right in front of Sophie and kicked the back of her knees. With a thump, Tiffany collapsed to the ground, forced into a kneeling position. Sophie stared at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and awe, and took several stumbling steps backward. Alistair and Evelyn watched, holding their breath. My voice was tight with irritation. I bit out a single word. “Hit her.” “What?” Sophie asked, her voice trembling. My patience frayed. “She bullied you before. Bully her back.” Sophie glanced at me nervously, then squeezed her eyes shut as if to gather courage and gave Tiffany a tentative slap. It had less force than a mosquito bite. “You bitch! You actually hit me! Sophie, you are so dead!” Sophie flinched back in terror, but then she met my cold, unblinking gaze. Steeling herself, she stepped forward again and delivered another slap, and another, and another, ten in total, each one harder than the last. The slender girl was panting when she finished, her eyes shining with a newfound sense of triumph and adoration as she looked at me. “Thank you, sis.” I gave a slight nod, then turned to the assembled staff. “Get these two off the property.”

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At the end of the year, I used my bonus to buy my boyfriend a surprise gift and had it sent to his office. The tracking showed it was delivered. But he never called to ask me about it. A day later, a voice message finally came through. “…Babe, did you… did you buy me a present?” He sounded incredibly hesitant. A seed of suspicion took root in my mind. I decided to test him, asking half-jokingly, “No, why? Did someone get you a gift?” He laughed it off awkwardly. “Oh, probably just something from a friend. I’ll ask around…” My heart went cold. …Ask other friends? Who else would send him a set of matching couple’s rings? 1 When I realized something was wrong, I pushed a little further. “What kind of gift was it?” Eric stammered, “Uh… nothing expensive. Just a pair of sneakers.” Another lie. A tremor went through my chest. The call had already ended. I was on edge all day. I knew this wasn’t simple. That evening, he came home acting completely normal, as if our conversation from earlier had never happened. I brought it up intentionally. “So, where are the sneakers? Let me see.” He froze for a second. “What sneakers?” Then, remembering his lie, he quickly added, “Oh, the sneakers! They were for a coworker, he just used my contact info by mistake. I already gave them back.” He immediately changed the subject. “I’m gonna go hop in the shower. We can talk later.” As he walked into the bathroom, he clutched his phone tightly in his hand. He kept it with him all night, even when we went to bed. The screen had one of those privacy protectors, so I couldn’t see a thing. I choked down my anxiety and waited for him to fall asleep. Finally, I heard the faint sound of snoring. Holding my breath like a thief, I slid my hand under his pillow and pulled out his phone. Fingerprint unlock. In eight years together, this was the first time I had ever looked through his phone. His text messages were clean. But I had a hunch. I swiped up, revealing his recently used apps. Besides the usual ones, I saw an icon for a messaging app I’d almost forgotten about. Some dark impulse made me open it. The chat list was empty, completely cleared. But I remembered that on this app, you could search for keywords in archived conversations, even if the chats themselves were deleted. I typed “rings” into the search bar. A single, recent conversation popped up. …I’d found it. My finger trembled as I tapped on it. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. Right after he’d asked me about the gift that morning, Eric had messaged this woman, whose username was “Jessica.” Because I’d denied sending anything, he was convinced the gift had come from her. Eric: Babe, the gift arrived. Jessica: …What gift? Eric: The couple’s rings. Jessica: What rings? What are you talking about? There was a long pause in the chat. Eric must have realized the rings weren’t from Jessica either. He started to backtrack, to spin a new lie. Eric: My project bonus came in, so I bought us a matching set of rings. It’s a gift from me to you. She replied instantly. Jessica: Aww, thank you, hubby! She even added a cute little emoji. The world started to spin. I felt dizzy. It looked like Eric really was cheating on me. But a few seconds later, that thought was shattered by something far worse. I saw Jessica’s profile picture. It was a wedding photo. And the groom was Eric. They… they were already married? Was I the other woman? 2 I didn’t sleep a wink. I didn’t confront Eric. Instead, I pretended I knew nothing. The next morning, after he left for work, I called in sick to my own job. I drove straight to the address mentioned in their chat history. I stood at the door for a long time, my heart pounding, before finally ringing the bell. A little boy, maybe five or six years old, answered. He looked at me with curious eyes and called back into the house, “Mommy… someone’s here.” My heart leaped into my throat. Then, Jessica appeared. She looked just like she did in the wedding photo, dressed in loose-fitting loungewear, her face free of makeup. Her belly was slightly rounded. She had to be at least six months pregnant. In her hands, she held a bunch of chives, looking every bit the part of a wife waiting for her husband to come home from work. My gaze drifted down to her hand. She was wearing a delicate, diamond-studded ring. It was the other half of the set I’d sent to Eric. “Can I… help you?” she asked, her arm protectively around her son. My throat felt tight. “Do you know Eric?” I managed to ask. Before Jessica could answer, the little boy chirped, “Eric is my daddy! Are you looking for my daddy?” Jessica followed up immediately. “Eric is my husband.” In that moment, my world collapsed. I could barely stand. “…How long have you been married?” Jessica’s brow furrowed slightly. “Who… who are you?” “I’m…” Before I could answer, my phone rang. It was Eric. I declined the call, but he was persistent, calling again and again. The moment I answered, Eric’s voice, cold and furious, came through the line. “Sarah, get away from my house. Right now.” I bit back, my voice shaking with rage. “Why should I? I’m going to get to the bottom of this today!” “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. Just don’t upset Jessica. She’s pregnant. If the stress harms the baby, you won’t be able to live with yourself.” His voice was filled with a menace that made him a stranger to me. Across from me, Jessica still looked completely bewildered. “Are you here to see my husband?” she asked kindly. “He’s at work. He won’t be back until after seven.” “You must be a friend of his. Why don’t you come in and stay for dinner? I’ve made plenty.” Her gentle smile felt like a knife twisting in my gut. The pain was so sharp I could hardly breathe. She was right. She was a pregnant woman. If something happened to her… I don’t even remember how I left. The second I got downstairs, I saw Eric sprinting toward the building, his face a mask of panic. I realized he must have seen me on a security camera inside the apartment. “You… you didn’t say anything to Jessica, did you?” he panted. “She’s carrying my child, Sarah. Please, I’m begging you, don’t do this to her. Whatever it is, take it out on me.” He looked so desperate, on the verge of tears. To maintain the last shred of my dignity, I said, “We’ll talk at home.” When we finally got back to our apartment, he did something I never expected. He dropped to his knees. “Sarah, I’m so sorry. Yell at me, hit me, do whatever you need to do to feel better.” “…So the child is yours? And Jessica is really your wife?” Tears streamed down his face as he gave a trembling nod. I felt like I was going to faint. “So tell me,” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, “which one of us is the other woman?” 3 He was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he told me the truth. We had been together for eight years. He had started cheating on me with Jessica in our second year together. “You had just been sent to the London office for that year and a half… we were apart so much. I’m a man, Sarah. I have needs.” “Jessica was an intern at my company. She… she confessed her feelings for me first.” “The first time, I was drunk. I thought she was you. I never thought… she got pregnant from that one time. With our son, Toby.” “And you know how my parents were pressuring me to get married. I knew you were focused on your career, and after your parents’ divorce, you were scared of marriage. I didn’t want to force you… and Jessica was pregnant, so…” I almost laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “So you married her?” His silence was his confession. “But I love you, Sarah! I swear, with Jessica it’s just… responsibility. You have to believe me!” He grabbed my hand, his grip desperate. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I shoved him away. This man was a complete stranger. During that year and a half I was in London, he had video-called me every single day. He told me where he was, what he was doing, every waking moment. Whenever he had a vacation, he would fly to see me. I remember one Valentine’s Day, he took three days off. He flew overnight, sick with a 102-degree fever, just to surprise me outside my apartment. I can still see it so clearly. His face pale and drawn, pulling out the gift he’d brought, telling me how much he loved me… And during that same year, he had not only cheated on me but married another woman. He had played me for a fool. For the next six years, every time he said he was working late or going on a business trip, he was going home to his other family. And early this year, he and Jessica had conceived their second child. The happiness I thought I had was more fragile than a soap bubble. It was all a lie. “Sarah…” Eric sobbed, his words choked and broken. “Please, forgive me. I really can’t live without you.” I just stared at him, the irony thick enough to choke on. “You still want to be with me?” He nodded frantically. “Then what about your wife and child?” “I already told Jessica. We have an open marriage. She won’t interfere in my life.” “As long as you don’t go near her, as long as you don’t upset her, she won’t cause any trouble for us.” I laughed. And then I ripped my hand from his grasp. “Eric, are you insane? You think you can have a wife and a mistress?” “Get out!” I grabbed the ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it to the floor. It shattered into a thousand pieces. I used every ounce of strength I had to shove him out the door. He stayed outside, begging and pleading. After a few minutes, his tone changed. The act was over. His voice was flat and dry. “Sarah, Toby has a fever. He needs his dad. I have to go.” Then, silence. My head felt heavy, my body light. A sheen of sweat covered my skin. I took my temperature. It was 104. I fell into a feverish, fitful sleep. When I woke up, Eric still wasn’t back. The fever had broken, and my mind was chillingly clear. I was done. I would not be trapped in this twisted triangle any longer. I had to cut Eric out of my life for good. I remembered Jessica’s username on the messaging app. I sent her a friend request. I didn’t beat around the bush. [Do you know that Eric is playing both of us? We need to meet.] After a long pause, she replied. [Okay.] I went back to her house. This time, the moment I stepped inside, I told her to unplug the security camera. I laid everything out for her, holding nothing back. “We’ve both been lied to,” I finished, my voice raw. “We’re both victims here. We should team up. We have to make that bastard pay.” Jessica listened quietly, her face a blank mask. “Are you finished?” she asked when I was done. “Sarah, did you really think I didn’t know about you?”

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The city’s spectacle today: my husband’s mistress threatening to jump, demanding I, his wife, be the negotiator. Through sobs, she claimed, “Your husband has kept me trapped in a villa for two weeks, refusing to let me out of bed. Today he hurt me so badly I needed eight stitches. I can’t take it anymore!” I kept my voice steady. “What is it you want?” “Promise me he won’t be so… rough next time.” From below, Nicholas called out with indulgent amusement, “You’re the one who teased me, darling. And you enjoyed it, didn’t you?” “Stop it…” she whined, her face flushed. “Come down now, and I promise to let you rest tonight,” he coaxed. “Only if she helps me down,” she said, pointing at me. I reached out. She pulled hard. I lost my balance and fell. Beside the airbag, Nicholas held her, watching the blood pool beneath me. “Darling, quite a scene you’ve made. You’ll handle the mess, won’t you?” Swallowing blood, I smiled bitterly. The ten-year battle with Nicholas’s mother was finally over — and I’d won. … Nicholas seemed pleased with my reaction. “Sienna’s had a scare. I’m taking her to the hospital.” “She’s young. Just take whatever punishment the old lady dishes out. Don’t say anything you shouldn’t. Understand?” I remained silent, nodding. An onlooker muttered in disgust, “Are all the high-society wives in this city such pathetic doormats?” Someone else sneered, “Don’t drag the rest of us down with her. The only one who debases herself like this is Victoria Song.” I curled my fists, forcing back the tears. Over the years, every time a scandalous photo of Nicholas surfaced, I was the one who faced the Thorne family’s “discipline.” The family’s official social media page even live-streamed my punishments. Afterward, I was forced to write a public apology, confessing my failure to guide my husband, which led to his debauchery and the tarnishing of the family name. I became infamous in high society as the “Doormat Wife.” Nicholas even created a special section in the city’s online tabloid called “Did Victoria Get It Today?” where people could place bets. Winners got a chance to win a new phone; losers had to buy ten copies of the paper. He and the tabloid made a fortune off my humiliation. “Always bet ‘yes’,” someone in the crowd advised. “Otherwise, you’ll be out the cost of ten papers again.” Another person was skeptical. “But she looks like she’s miscarrying. Can she even take the punishment?” “A miscarriage is nothing,” the first person replied. “It won’t stop them from sticking needles in her fingers.” “Trust me, Victoria Song has no self-respect. Just wait for the Thorne family livestream later tonight.” Every word was a poisoned dagger to my heart. They were right. For all these years, I had clung to Nicholas’s side, a pathetic, groveling creature, tolerating his endless parade of mistresses, refusing to let go of my title as Mrs. Thorne. But today, finally, I didn’t have to endure it anymore. At the hospital, the doctor shook his head regretfully. “It was a healthy baby boy, Mrs. Thorne. My condolences…” I thanked him numbly, feeling no overwhelming grief. Nicholas’s mother arrived quickly. She looked down at me, her expression as impassive as ever. “How much? Name your price.” The exact same question she had asked five years ago when Nicholas first brought me home to meet her. Back then, she had been blunt. “You’re not right for him.” “The love in your eyes is too pure. It doesn’t belong in his world.” “Forcing it will only bring misery to you both.” But I hadn’t believed her. I couldn’t believe that Nicholas, the man who had valued my life over his own, was a mistake I was forcing. I refused her money. She stopped objecting. “The Thorne family door is easy to enter, but difficult to leave.” “Sign this agreement, and I will consent to your marriage.” Like a moth to a flame, I signed the prenuptial agreement. And through Nicholas’s endless betrayals, I finally understood what she meant by “difficult to leave.” I looked up at her, a bitter smile on my face. “A divorce, and one billion dollars.” Her expression remained cold. “The money and the divorce certificate will be in your hands in one month.” “But until then, you are still Mrs. Thorne.” I understood her meaning and nodded. After his mother left, my phone rang. It was Nicholas. “You’re at the hospital? Did you get checked out? What was all that blood?” His voice was laced with irritation. I didn’t want to argue. “It’s nothing serious.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Come to the international wing.” “Sienna lost ten papers’ worth of bets because you didn’t get your punishment today, and she was embarrassed in front of her friends. Now she’s mad at me.” “You need to come and apologize.” I was about to refuse, but then I remembered his mother’s words. A small, cold smile touched my lips. “Alright.” When I arrived at Sienna’s private room, it was filled with people. Nicholas was cooing at her. “My little darling, she’s here. What will it take for you to forgive me?” Sienna shot me a disdainful look. “I’m not an unreasonable person.” “It’s just that my friends all lost money because of her. If she goes around and has a drink with each of them to apologize, I’ll let you sleep in the bed tonight.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Nicholas agreed. “Fine. She’ll drink.” I stared at him in disbelief. He knew. He knew I was allergic to alcohol. One sip, and I would struggle to breathe. Years ago, when I first started my career, a team leader forced me to drink. I ended up in the emergency room getting my stomach pumped. Nicholas had been so distraught seeing me in pain, his eyes had turned bloodshot with rage. The next day, he bought out the entire company for five hundred million dollars. At the celebration party, he forced the team leader to drink until he had to be hospitalized with internal bleeding, and then had him blacklisted from the entire city. “From this day on,” he had declared, “if anyone ever makes Victoria drink again, I won’t hesitate to ruin their life.” No one had dared to offer me a drink since. And now, to appease his mistress, he was telling me to drink. When I didn’t move, Nicholas tried to coax me. “Darling, we’re in a hospital. There are doctors everywhere. A few glasses won’t hurt you.” Sienna started to cry. “If she doesn’t want to, then fine. Just send her home. You can stay the night there, with her.” Meeting my furious gaze, Nicholas just smirked. “I hear the chief is thinking about downsizing the negotiation department. I wonder where all your old, crippled colleagues will end up.” “The traffic department, maybe? Writing tickets all day, serving the public.” Most of my colleagues were former officers, injured in the line of duty. They had been shuffled from department to department, treated like errand boys, until the negotiation unit was formed. It was the only place they felt they had value. They had always been kind to me, ignoring the public ridicule, pulling me back from the brink of despair time and time again. I bit my lip. “What do our personal issues have to do with them?” A grin spread across Nicholas’s face. “I don’t want to involve them. But I also don’t want to sleep on the couch.” “The choice is yours, darling.” “You have three seconds.” I knew I had no choice. “I’ll drink.” Numbly, I downed glass after glass, murmuring apologies. At some point, the glass slipped from my fingers, and I collapsed to the floor. Someone sneered, “Stop faking it. It’s only been a few glasses. If you don’t want to drink, just say so.” Someone kicked me. As the world went dark, I thought I saw a flicker of panic in Nicholas’s eyes as he rushed toward me. “What are you all standing there for? Get a doctor!” His panicked expression was identical to the one he wore five years ago, back when he still loved me. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye and hit the cold floor. But it was too late, Nicholas. I would never love you again. I woke up to find Nicholas sitting by my bedside, his eyes red-rimmed. He took my hand and kissed it gently. “Darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you had miscarried…” “It’s all Sienna’s fault for being so dramatic. I’ll deal with her.” “You just focus on getting better. We’re still young. We’ll have another child.” The look of concern in his eyes was as deep and convincing as ever, but the scent of another woman’s perfume on his clothes made my stomach turn. “Perhaps your children and I are just not meant to be.” He didn’t understand. He squeezed my hand, his eyes filled with a fierce determination. “You’re my wife. My children will only ever be with you.” “I may fool around, but I have my principles. Only you are worthy of bearing my child.” Just as the words left his mouth, the door opened. Sienna stood there, tears streaming down her face. “Nicholas, so… you don’t want our baby?” She turned and ran, leaving a sonogram picture fluttering to the ground. In an instant, Nicholas dropped my hand and chased after her. When he returned, he was holding a velvet box. “Victoria, Sienna is pregnant. Your child is gone, but this one has come at the perfect time.” “You know the Thorne family needs an heir.” I laughed bitterly. Just three hours ago, he had sworn that only I would ever bear his children. I clenched my fists. My unborn child, just like me, was being cast aside to make way for someone else. Nicholas was, as always, dictatorial. “I’m bringing Sienna home. I want you to personally take care of her. It’s the only way I’ll feel at ease.” “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” He pressed the velvet box into my hand. I recognized it immediately. It was the sapphire necklace I had glanced at in the airport a few weeks ago. I tossed it aside. “Don’t buy me things anymore. I don’t need them.” “Then what do you want? A new car? A new apartment?” My voice was flat. “Nothing.” He feigned nervousness. “Then what? Me?” “Darling, I’ve told you before, you can’t be greedy. My heart will always belong to you. But my body… you’ll have to let the younger girls have that.” Through his teasing smile, I spoke calmly. “Go be with her. I’m tired.” Nicholas froze for a second, then smiled and placed a light kiss on my forehead. “You have no idea how lucky I am to have married you.” The curve of his smile, once so familiar, now felt completely alien. Back then, the heir to the Thorne fortune, a man who had his pick of any woman, had fallen for me, an orphan from a broken home. He knew my story, knew that I was the product of a brutal assault on my mother, knew that my mother had killed my attacker to protect me. Everyone told him to stay away from me, that I had tainted blood. When I was falsely accused of theft in college, and my classmates petitioned to have me expelled, he stood against them all. He found the evidence to clear my name, defending me at every turn. He pursued me relentlessly for four years, but the pain of my past had made me withdrawn and insecure. 99 proposals, 99 rejections. The summer of my senior year, an earthquake hit my hometown. I was buried in the rubble of the orphanage where I had grown up. Ignoring everyone’s warnings, Nicholas flew to my side. He dug through the debris with his bare hands. When an aftershock caused a pillar to collapse and break his leg, he didn’t stop. After a day and a night, he finally pulled me out. When the light hit my face, I felt like I was seeing my savior. My god had been broken for me. I wept, telling him I wasn’t worth it. Nicholas’s eyes were red-rimmed. He told me, “Victoria Song, you’ve never understood. In this world, there is nothing that can stop me from loving you.” In that moment, he entered my heart. At our wedding, he cried like a child. “Victoria, you have no idea how lucky I am to have married you.” The same words, five years later, with a completely different meaning. Then, he was lucky because he had married me. Now, he was lucky because I was willing to accept his cheating and allow him to have a child with another woman. But it was alright. I no longer felt the pain. Sienna moved into our home. Nicholas threw our wedding photos into a storage room, saying he didn’t want to upset her. He gave her our master bedroom, saying a pregnant woman needed more sunlight. He had the rose garden I had planted torn up and replaced with lilies, Sienna’s favorite. …

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The day Asher woke from his coma, he insisted he’d been reborn. He told me that in another life, three years into our marriage, I would cheat on him with a college student. He said I would become so obsessed that I’d be willing to walk away with nothing, just to divorce him. So this time, he was getting ahead of it. He found a girl, set her up in an apartment on the other side of town. She had already given him a son and a daughter. I didn’t scream or throw a hysterical fit. I just waited until we were walking out of the courthouse, divorce papers in hand, and asked him quietly. “Asher, the person I supposedly became… did you have something to do with it?” He was silent for a long, long time. And just like that, I knew. Asher had betrayed me twice. 1 The day Asher turned cold, I had no idea what I’d done wrong. It was like a switch had been flipped. He stopped meeting my eyes. The gentle check-ins, the little gestures of affection, they all vanished. We’d only been married a month. He moved into the guest room without a word of discussion. The night he carried his pillow and blanket out of our bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down my face. “Asher, if you don’t love me, why did you marry me? If you want a divorce, just say it! We can go tomorrow!” Something I said must have snapped the last thread of his patience. He threw the bedding onto the floor. His hands clamped down on my shoulders, his voice a torrent of venom as he hurled the most vicious words imaginable at me. He said I was disgusting. Shameless. Completely unworthy of his love. The verbal assault left me reeling, stunned into silence. On pure instinct, my hands flew up, my freshly manicured nails raking across his cheek. Asher didn’t even flinch. He just gave me one long, dark look, then walked out, blood welling in the fresh scratches on his face, and drove away into the night. It wasn’t long before I heard the whispers from friends. Asher was keeping another woman, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Of course, I confronted them. I found her, dragged her to the ground, and lost myself in a blind rage. Asher just stood in the doorway, watching calmly. He didn’t intervene. He just watched me transform into the cliché I never thought I’d be: a screaming, unhinged shrew, driven mad by her husband’s infidelity. And he was driving me mad. I was losing my mind trying to understand. Why had he stopped loving me overnight? I wasn’t afraid of a divorce. All I wanted was a reason. And he finally gave me one, his face a mask of cold indifference as he tossed me out of their apartment. He said he was reborn. He said that three years from now, I would throw our marriage away for some college kid. The tears I’d been holding back started to fall again, hot and heavy. The excuse was so absurd, so insulting, that I refused to believe it. “Believe what you want, Seraphina. But this time, I’m the one who fell out of love first.” He was a man of his word. A month later, his new girl, Nicole, was pregnant. He told her to keep it. During that time, everyone I knew pleaded with me. If you can’t live like this, just leave him. But how could I? How could I let him divorce me without a real explanation, just so he could play happy families with his mistress and their child? No. As long as I refused to sign the papers, she would always be the other woman, and their child would always be illegitimate. I clung to that bitter thought, fueled by spite. I let my youth wither away, tangled in a toxic standoff with Asher for three long years. But in the end, it felt like I was the only one trapped in that marriage. In three years, he had two children. My stubbornness had become a joke. 2 Asher’s daughter had her one-month celebration party. Most of his family was there. I saw the photo of their perfect little family of four in the family group chat. Asher’s own parents had posted it. After three years, everyone understood that Asher and I were finished. A divorce was inevitable, so no one bothered to consider my feelings anymore. [Two kids in three years, a boy and a girl! Asher is so blessed!] [Little Ash Jr. is the spitting image of his dad as a boy. He’s going to be a real handful for his grandparents at the estate!] [It would be so much easier if Seraphina would just sign the papers. Then they could all move back here instead of all this hassle!] The house Asher and I had shared was in the same gated community as his parents’ estate, just a three-minute walk away. They were blaming me. Why couldn’t I just be gracious, step aside, and let Asher’s perfect family have their happily ever after? If this had been the old me, that thought would have been unthinkable. I would have dug my heels in deeper, ready to drag us all down into the abyss with me. But something inside me had shifted. That burning knot of spite I’d been holding in my chest for years suddenly unraveled. For the first time, I genuinely considered it. What if I did divorce him? How much could I ask for in the settlement? It would have to be a fortune. I wouldn’t settle for less. As I was lost in thought, the front door swung open. Asher stood there, reeking of alcohol, his eyes locked on me. They held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “Does it hurt, Seraphina?” he slurred. “Watching me play house with another woman, building a family. Does it tear you apart?” I hadn’t expected him to come here. The only time he ever sought me out was after I’d made a scene with him and Nicole, and he’d come home to retaliate on her behalf. Other than that, he hadn’t willingly set foot in this house for a very long time. When I didn’t answer, he dropped the half-smoked cigarette from his fingers and pressed on, his voice raw. “Does it hurt?” A little, maybe. But not as much as he probably hoped. Three years is a long time. Long enough to get used to sleeping alone. Long enough to forget what it even feels like to have a husband. I shook my head, my voice surprisingly steady. “No, Asher. I don’t think I love you as much as I thought I did.” A flicker of genuine pain crossed his face. He looked down, and after a moment, a low, humorless laugh escaped his lips. “You’re lying.” He looked back up, his eyes dark. “You brought this on yourself, Seraphina. Because I once felt the same agony you’re supposed to be feeling right now.” 3 It seemed he’d only come back to say those few words. Without even taking off his shoes or stepping into the bedroom, he turned to leave. Just then, his phone rang. His body tensed. With his back still to me, he answered, putting it on speaker. He wanted me to hear. Nicole’s sweet, cloying voice filled the silent room. “Ash, where did you go? I just got out of the shower and you were gone.” Asher turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on me. A faint, cruel smirk played on his lips. “Just popped out to grab something, my little scatterbrain. You forgot we used up the last box.” My hand clenched into a fist. I had overestimated myself. Hearing that, a sharp pang of pain shot through my chest. He saw my reaction. The smirk widened, and his voice softened into a tender caress. “Be good. I’ll be right back.” After hanging up, he didn’t leave as promised. Instead, he walked slowly toward my bed. His long, elegant fingers closed around my chin, tilting my face up. He clearly expected to see tears. But my face was dry. I offered him a small, placid smile. “Asher, I don’t think I can cry over you anymore. Does that mean it’s really over? That whatever I felt for you is almost gone?” I wasn’t a fool. I knew, on some level, that everything he was doing was a form of revenge. Revenge for what this other, “reborn” version of me had supposedly done to him. I still didn’t buy the whole reincarnation story. But whether it was true or not, the only power he held over me was my love for him. And once that was gone, I had nothing left to fear. The smile on my face seemed to ignite something in him. His eyes turned bloodshot. He shoved me back against the mattress. Then he grabbed a pillow, his face contorted, and pressed it down over my face. “Don’t you dare smile,” he hissed, his voice cracking. “Don’t you dare. Who gave you the right to stop loving me? You sentence me to hell every single day, and you think you can just… stop loving me?” I never thought he would snap like that. I struggled, my lungs burning, until he finally came to his senses and pulled the pillow away. I gasped for air, ragged and desperate. Asher collapsed beside me, pulling me into a fierce embrace. His entire body was trembling uncontrollably. “Sera,” he whispered, his voice choked with something that sounded like despair. “If I forgave you… could we try again? Could you just be with me?” 4 That night, Asher tried to stay. He’d already taken off his pants. But I’d recovered enough to grab the toilet brush from the bathroom and chase him out of the house. And no, I didn’t take his talk of “starting over” seriously. I’m Seraphina. I don’t do recycling, especially not for trash like him. After he left, I called my lawyer and had him draw up divorce papers. I didn’t have a long list of conditions. Just one: an absolutely astronomical settlement fee. After all, if the love was gone, I’d be damned if I walked away without the money, too. As for Nicole, the mother of his two children, I knew there was little I could do. Those kids were her lifetime insurance policy. As long as she played her cards right, she had a very real chance of becoming the next Mrs. Blackwood. Initially, Asher’s parents hadn’t liked her. But faced with their grandchildren, they’d softened, gradually accepting the reality of the situation. It helped that Nicole wasn’t some girl he’d picked up in a bar. She had worked diligently at Blackwood Industries for two years. Her family background was clean, even if no one knew how she and Asher actually got together. The Blackwoods had come to terms with it. And so had I. I couldn’t spend another three years making myself miserable just to spite them. The next day, my friends invited me out shopping. They knew I’d been down and were trying to get me out of the house. I really hadn’t been anywhere in ages. I pulled a new dress out of the closet, one that had been collecting dust for years, and even put on a full face of makeup. But the moment I opened the front door, I found Nicole there with her two-year-old son. The little boy, wearing a pair of shiny black leather shoes, toddled behind his mother’s legs, peeking at me with curious eyes. My heart seized. I didn’t want it to hurt. But his face, a seven-tenths copy of Asher’s as a child, was a sharp, painful blow. Nicole’s face went pale, and she raised her voice theatrically. “What do you want? Seraphina, if you lay a hand on my son, I swear I’ll kill you.” If you’re so afraid of me, I thought, then don’t bring your child to my doorstep. Are you really not scared I’ll lose my temper and do something to him? I walked down the steps. I looked at this woman, dressed immaculately from head to toe, the woman Asher had cherished and protected for three years. I let out a cold snort. “Nicole, you don’t deserve to be a mother. You’re willing to use your own son as a pawn. I’ll give you this, you’re far more ruthless than I am.” She was using her own child as a tool, a bargaining chip, just to provoke me. But the worst was yet to come. As I walked past her, she shot me a triumphant smirk. Then, she gave the little boy a sharp, deliberate push. He stumbled, falling backward onto the pavement with a surprised cry. His small hands scraped against the concrete. A loud, piercing wail erupted from him. The sound brought Asher and his mother rushing out of the main house. 5 “Seraphina! What did you do to my grandson?” Asher’s mother charged toward me, her round frame surprisingly agile. I sidestepped, and the hand she’d swung at me met empty air. I wasn’t about to stand there and take a slap for something I didn’t do. She shot me a venomous glare before turning her attention to the boy, scooping her precious grandson up off the ground with coos of concern. Asher’s brow furrowed in displeasure as he stared at me. “He’s my son, Seraphina,” he said, his tone a low warning. “You have no right to touch him. If I find out this happens again, I won’t hesitate to repeat what happened last night. You hate me, don’t you? Fine. I’ll give you more reasons to.” This time, his words didn’t cause me any pain. Just a wave of nausea. I think I’m really, finally getting over him, I thought. I glanced at the security camera above the door and was about to pull out my phone when Nicole leaned into Asher’s chest, her voice trembling. “Asher, it wasn’t her fault. Ash Jr. just lost his balance and fell. Please don’t blame Ms. Vance. I know she doesn’t like me, but I’m sure she’s not so heartless that she’d hurt a two-year-old child. She wouldn’t have a reason to.” That sent Asher’s mother into another fury. “What do you mean she has no reason? She’s still hoping Asher will come back to her, isn’t she? If my grandchildren were out of the picture, her path would be clear!” Nicole buried her face deeper into Asher’s chest, her expression one of pure terror. “Oh my God, what should we do? Are my babies in danger?” Watching her pathetic, amateur acting, I felt the urge to drag her to the ground again. But a look at the little boy, whose sobs had quieted to whimpers, stopped me. Instead, I pulled out my phone, opened the security app, and rewound the footage. “I won’t be accused of something I didn’t do,” I said, holding the phone out. “See for yourself, Asher.” The video clearly showed the truth. When it was over, Asher’s face was a mask of regret. He reached a hand toward me, but I flinched away. His eyes reddened. He couldn’t believe I was so repulsed by his touch. His mother saw it too. With a strength I didn’t know she possessed, she spun around and delivered a resounding slap across Nicole’s face. “You little tramp! How dare you use my grandson like that! You try a stunt like this again, and I’ll have Asher throw you out on the street.” I put my phone away and took a deep breath. “Asher,” I said, my voice clear and final. “Let’s get a divorce.”

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At a welcome-back dinner, my girlfriend’s guy best friend, Cody, tossed the cilantro he didn’t want into her bowl for the fifth time. I was about to flip the table when a series of comments materialized in the air before me. [The MC is so petty. The second male lead just doesn’t like cilantro. What’s the big deal if he gives it to his bestie?] [The FL really just sees him as a friend. It’s the MC who’s being dramatic and insecure.] [It’s fine. Later, when the MC gives himself an ulcer from all the stress, the clueless FL will start groveling to win him back. That’s the good part.] I paused. Then, I picked up a piece of mushroom and placed it in the bowl of my girlfriend’s other best friend, Sloane. The comment feed went even crazier. [Oh no, he has no idea the second female lead has been brainwashing herself that stealing someone else’s man for love isn’t shameful at all.] 1 The day Cody arrived at Northwood University for his freshman year, my girlfriend, Sophia, insisted on throwing a “best friends” get-together to introduce him to her circle. At the dinner table, for the fifth time, right in front of me, Cody meticulously picked the cilantro out of his bowl and dropped it into Sophia’s. “Man, it’s so much better eating at your place,” he sighed. “Your mom never uses cilantro, saves me the trouble.” Sophia just laughed and playfully chided him. “You’ve been the pickiest eater I know since we were kids.” “Hey, you’re one to talk,” he retorted. “Our mom told me to keep an eye on you, make sure you stop staying up all night and actually eat your vegetables.” Their easy banter created a bubble around them, an impenetrable atmosphere that no one else could enter. Especially me. A nerve in my temple started to throb. Wasn’t this the classic manipulative nice-guy routine? Just as I was about to lose my temper, my vision blurred, and that dense wall of text appeared again. [Seriously, this MC’s jealous personality is so unlikable. The guy just doesn’t like cilantro. What’s wrong with giving it to his best friend?] [The MC is just insecure. He can’t stand their decade-long friendship, so he’s always misinterpreting things and starting fights.] [Don’t worry, it gets good later. He’ll get so worked up he leaves, and then the clueless FL will have to chase him down. Only then will he finally believe she loves him.] So, that’s me. The petty, jealous main character. It’s my fault for misreading these totally innocent, not-at-all-manipulative actions? In the middle of their playful bickering, Cody reached his hand directly into the pocket of Sophia’s jacket. “Let’s see if you’ve been a good girl and kept tissues on hand for me like I told you to.” He pulled out a single hair tie. With a look of disgust, he tossed it aside. My breath caught in my throat. But a new wave of comments made me second-guess myself again. [See? The MC is about to misunderstand again. If you ask me, the only reason the main couple got together in the first place is thanks to the second male lead.] Sophia and I met in high school. I was playing basketball, drenched in sweat. She walked right up to me, stopped me, and nervously pulled a pack of tissues from her pocket to hand to me. It was only then that I realized how soaked my shirt was. Seeing me stare at the packet, she explained, “My best friend always makes me carry them.” At the time, I just thought it was a cute, thoughtful habit girls had. It wasn’t until today that I realized the loud, drama-binging, supposedly tomboyish “best friend” she always talked about was a guy. And that the pack of tissues that brought us together… was Cody’s idea. [Our guy Cody is basically Cupid. He sets up a bunch of other couples later, too.] [So the MC really needs to chill with the jealousy.] A sick feeling, like I’d swallowed a fly, settled in my stomach. Apparently, the acceptable boundaries for friendships between men and women had expanded to the size of the Pacific Ocean. Noticing my dark expression, Cody pulled his hand back, feigning an apology. “Hey, man, don’t mind us. We’ve always been like this. It’s just our dynamic.” Sophia glanced at me, then tried to smooth things over. “He knows how close we are. He’s not going to get bent out of shape over a piece of cilantro, are you?” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s no big deal. This is totally normal, isn’t it?” Just casually sharing food and draping arms around each other in front of me. Just dropping ambiguous, flirty comments. If the comment feed said it was normal and I was the one with the problem, then who was I to argue? I wasn’t about to waste my breath explaining the concept of boundaries or emotional affairs to them. But I’ve always had a rebellious streak. If this was their definition of normal, then it was normal for me, too. I leaned over, picked up a piece of mushroom with my chopsticks, and placed it in the bowl of the girl sitting next to me, Sloane, who had been quietly scrolling on her phone. 2 The entire table froze. Sophia stared at the mushroom in Sloane’s bowl, her smile vanishing. “What are you doing, giving it to her?” I shot back a cold smile of my own. “What’s the matter? I’m just giving some food to a friend. Isn’t that totally normal?” I turned to Sloane, who had been practically invisible for the whole dinner. I’d only made the move after noticing her plate was empty. But when she looked up at me, a flicker of unease went through me. I couldn’t read her expression, but I could read the exploding comment feed. [NOOO, what is the MC doing, provoking her?!] [YES! Team Sloane, we have a chance!] [I object! Everyone knows she only got close to the FL to steal her boyfriend! This scheming witch better not ruin the main couple’s relationship.] [That’s why she’s always telling herself it’s not shameful to be a homewrecker for love.] Wait, what? Sloane and I had barely spoken more than a few words to each other. I just knew she was usually around whenever Sophia and I went out. She seemed like a good friend to her. I couldn’t imagine a word like “homewrecker” ever being associated with her. Cody put on a show of sudden realization. “Oh, I see. My bad, bro. You are upset. You’re just doing this to make Sophia jealous.” He nudged Sophia. “Go on, you’d better go appease your little boyfriend. And if you play a few rounds of games with me tonight, I’ll forgive you for ditching your best friend for a guy.” Before I could say a word, Sloane, who had been silent all night, let out a soft, sharp laugh. “He gave me a mushroom. What’s the big deal? You’re all being a little oversensitive.” That one light, airy sentence wiped the smiles off their faces. Sophia stood up. “It’s only normal between best friends. Since when were you two so close?” Sloane, who had already finished her meal, slowly picked up the mushroom and ate it. “We’re all friends here,” she said coolly. “No need to draw lines.” I could see Sophia was about two seconds away from flipping the table herself. But I had to admit, it felt incredibly satisfying. Turns out, the knife only hurts when it’s sticking in your own back. 3 The rest of the meal was painfully awkward. On the way back to the dorms, Cody pressed up against Sophia, his arm casually slung around her shoulder. “Same rules as always,” he said. “One-v-one match. You lose, you come to my dorm and make my bed.” Sophia glanced back at me. I knew she was still fuming about what happened at dinner. Usually, whenever we argued, she’d go completely silent. She wouldn’t do anything or go anywhere until I caved and told her I wasn’t mad anymore. Anyone else would have called her whipped, always putting me before anything else. But this time, I was too tired to argue. Her definition of friendship was clearly on another planet from mine. And like the comments said, I had no right to question it. So I just shrugged. “Go if you want to.” Sophia hesitated for a second. “You said it, not me.” Cody cheered. “Awesome! Thanks for the help, Soph!” His singsong voice grated on my nerves. Just then, Sloane, walking beside me, spoke up. “Ryan, are you free tonight? We’re short-staffed for the welcome week concert. Could you lend a hand?” I was confused. Weren’t all the volunteer spots filled weeks ago? Still, I nodded. “Yeah, I’m free.” Sloane let out a soft laugh, her voice suddenly taking on a playful, exaggerated drawl. “Well then, thanks for the help, senior~” I just stared at her. 4 Northwood’s welcome week concert was always a huge event. Some couples would even get on stage to sing a duet and show off. I remembered just a week ago, Sophia had been hugging me, excitedly telling me she was going to perform my favorite song, complete with a slideshow of our pictures she’d made herself. But now… I’d already gotten word that she’d changed her song. As I looked toward the stage, I saw Cody adjusting her bowtie. “You’re hopeless,” he teased. “You can’t even tie a bowtie. You expect me to fix it for you on your wedding day, too?” Sophia shot back with a grin, “You haven’t even found some poor soul to put up with you yet, and you’re already worried about me? Call me your queen and maybe I’ll put in a good word for you on stage.” Cody immediately twisted her ear, scolding her playfully. I had no desire to intervene. I just leaned against a wall in the shadows, my arms crossed. In the dim light, something about Cody’s faux-angry profile seemed strangely familiar. After a moment of thought, I opened Sophia’s social media and started scrolling. Among her few posts, I quickly found the portrait sketches she used to draw. The style evolved from amateurish and clumsy to, just two months ago during summer break, skilled enough that the subject was instantly recognizable. My hand holding the phone started to tremble. The comments flickered back into view. [I can’t. She’s not even drawing the second male lead anymore, is she? The MC is the one with the mole under his left eye!] [The old drawings were definitely of the SML, but after she got with the MC, all her drawings have been of him.] [Yeah, exactly. She just drew the SML for so long that his features kind of bled into her style.] [Can the MC please stop being so paranoid? It’s giving me a damn ulcer!] Was that true? The comments were so certain, they almost made me doubt what I was seeing with my own eyes. On stage, Sophia finished her song. She was beautiful, with a fantastic voice, and under the spotlight, she shone like a star, basking in the applause from the new students. Holding the microphone, she suddenly pulled out a QR code. “I’m helping my bestie find a poor soul to date! Anyone with a good temper, apply within!” A freshman in the crowd shouted, “Can I get your contact info instead?” Sophia paused. I expected her to say, “I already have a boyfriend.” But she didn’t. She sighed dramatically. “Sorry, but a certain someone already bribed me with a KFC dinner. If I steal his thunder, I might not get my chicken.” The crowd roared with laughter. And my heart turned to ice.

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1 On Christmas Eve, my husband and his forty-ninth canary went public. “My forever love, @Sylvie.” “My forever love, @SimonBeaumont.” He turned to me a moment later, his voice a placating murmur. “It was just a silly girl who lost a game of truth or dare. Don’t worry about it.” Everyone laughed at me, but I didn’t make a scene. I never did. They didn’t know about the deal I’d made with the System. For every time Simon cheated, one year of his life was transferred to me. By my count, after forty-nine affairs, Simon’s eighty-year lifespan had been whittled down to its final year. All I had to do was survive until the New Year, and he would die of natural causes. And I, along with our three children, would inherit the Beaumont family’s trillion-dollar fortune. … Twitter was melting down. The trending topic of Simon and Sylvie’s announcement was followed by a blazing red “VIRAL” tag. In less than ten minutes, the post had over a hundred thousand comments. “Simon is so romantic! This is what true love looks like! #CoupleGoals” “Did Sylvie save a small country in a past life or something?” “@IngridBeaumont, come get your man, he’s at it again!” I set my phone down, my heart a placid lake, and took a sip of the Earl Grey tea on the table. The doorbell chimed, and Simon’s parents swept in, cloaked in a storm of fury. His father’s face was ashen with rage. He let out a heavy sigh. “Ingrid, Simon is being a damned fool. Dad will have the yacht prepped for you. If you need to get away, just go clear your head.” His mother placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Ingrid, don’t you worry. You are the only daughter-in-law of the Beaumont family. Those… trollops will never set foot in this house!” I lowered my head to pour them some tea, my expression a perfect mask of understanding. “Thank you, Mom, Dad. I know.” Why would I cause a scene? After all, this was Simon’s forty-ninth canary. Wonderful. Only seven days left. Everything was about to end. The next day, the head of Beaumont Corporation’s PR department arrived at the house personally. “Mrs. Beaumont, here is the draft of the statement. If you could please take a look…” I scanned the document. It was the same old recipe. “It was just a game… I’m not bothered… Our relationship is very strong… We apologize for wasting public resources…” I’d issued countless statements like this over the last decade. But this time felt different, more significant. It was, after all, the first time Simon had made such a grand, public declaration. I’d seen pictures of the girl. She was different from the others. She seemed sharper, more intelligent, and she bore a striking resemblance to Simon’s first love, the one who had passed away. After the statement was released, my phone exploded again. In the group chat with the other society wives, someone tagged me directly. “Ingrid, you are the soul of grace! If my husband tried that, I’d have broken both his legs by now!” “That’s why Ingrid is the true matriarch. We could all learn a thing or two.” I was so tired of their backhanded compliments. I muted the chat and retreated to the study. In the bottom drawer of the desk, tucked away beneath old files, was a small, leather-bound notebook. The first page was dated ten years ago. “Carla, 23, a ballerina from the conservatory. Three months. Gifted a condo downtown.” The second page. “Veronica, 25, a streamer and influencer. Four months. Bankrolled her own fashion boutique.” … The forty-eighth page. “Sophie, 22, a student at the music academy. Two months. Gifted a sports car.” I turned to the forty-ninth page and began to write. “Sylvie, 24, a graduate of the drama academy.” What her final prize would be, I didn’t yet know. But I had a nagging feeling that her ambitions were far from simple. I closed the notebook. Outside the window, a light snow had begun to fall. The Christmas tree in the garden twinkled with colored lights, and the sound of my three children’s laughter as they built a snowman drifted faintly through the glass. The day I was transmigrated into this body, its original owner, the real Ingrid, had just swallowed her last breath. Empty bottles of sleeping pills were scattered on the bedside table. Her phone was still lit up, displaying a photo of Simon in bed with Carla. Her dying wish had echoed in the empty room, a desperate, lingering obsession. “Simon isn’t a bad man, it’s that woman’s fault… Please, take care of him for me…” The moment I heard it, I wanted to refuse. Was this not the classic case of a woman hopelessly blinded by love? Driven to her death by a mistress, yet still making excuses for the cheating scoundrel. But the System had intervened. “You can’t go back anyway. Complete the mission, and I can grant you one wish.” I considered it, then nodded. “Fine.” “Ingrid believed Simon wasn’t a monster? Then let’s make a deal based on that belief.” “For every time Simon cheats, one year of his life is transferred to me.” “If the day comes when Simon has squandered away his entire lifespan, my mission will be complete.” The System was silent for three seconds. “Deal accepted.” Forty-nine affairs equated to forty-nine years of his life, gone. Simon was supposed to live to be eighty. Now, he had only one year left. No, to be precise, once the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve, his time would be up. The thought filled me with a profound sense of liberation. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Simon. “Won’t be home for dinner tonight.” “About the stuff online, you know how it is… Just a silly girl who lost a game of truth or dare. Don’t worry about it.” I didn’t reply. He didn’t press the issue. This was the silent understanding we had built over many years. “Ingrid, you’re the most understanding woman I know. It’s just for fun, a way to blow off steam.” “Don’t worry, you’re the only Mrs. Beaumont there will ever be.” I let out a cold, humorless laugh and called the children inside for dinner. The faint sound of Christmas bells drifted on the wind. Seven more days. Seven days until New Year’s Eve, when fireworks would paint the entire sky. And the final page of my ledger would finally be written. 2 The next day, Simon didn’t come home alone. His hand was intertwined with Sylvie’s. “Ingrid, we need to talk.” I looked up at him, a flicker of unease stirring within me. He never brought his women home. He certainly never brought them before me. “Sylvie’s grandfather is gravely ill. His only wish is to see her married.” My brow furrowed slightly. “And?” Simon hesitated, then finally dropped the bomb. “So… we need to get a divorce.” The air in the room instantly turned to ice. A divorce? After ten years of quiet suffering, just as my victory was within reach, he was going to kick me to the curb? Seeing my prolonged silence, a hint of pity flashed in Simon’s eyes. “Just for a month. As soon as her grandfather passes peacefully, we’ll remarry immediately.” On cue, Sylvie’s eyes welled with tears. “Ingrid, please, I’m begging you.” She walked towards me, her knees buckled, and she actually looked like she was about to kneel. “My grandfather… the doctors said he only has a few days left…” I didn’t move, but my mind was racing. If I wasn’t Mrs. Beaumont when Simon died, how much of the inheritance would I lose? The thought of Sylvie and my three children fighting over the assets made my stomach churn. No. I couldn’t let that happen. For the original Ingrid, for my children, and for myself, I had to protect my title as Mrs. Beaumont. I looked Simon straight in the eye. “New Year’s is just around the corner. The whole family will be gathering. Let’s not make a laughingstock of ourselves. Wait until after the holidays. Then you two can play whatever games you want.” “No!” Sylvie cried out, the tears now streaming down her face. “I’m afraid my grandfather can’t wait that long!” She collapsed to her knees, her fingers clutching the hem of my pants, her eyes pleading and wet. “Please, Ingrid, he’s the only family I have left…” “If he doesn’t see me get married, he’ll never be able to rest in peace, and I… I won’t be able to live with myself…” Simon’s eyes filled with pain for her. He turned to me, his voice laced with irritation. “Ingrid, just do me this one favor. Her request isn’t unreasonable.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Simon, I have been ‘doing you a favor’ for ten years.” “You’ve had forty-nine canaries, and I have never raised my voice to you or spoken a single ill word about you to anyone.” “This home, your parents, our three children—I have taken care of everything perfectly.” “And now, you’re asking me to give up my place as your wife…” Simon cut in, his voice urgent. “It’s just for one month!” “No!” I stood up, my tone more forceful than it had ever been. “You made me a promise, Simon. You have to keep your word!” Recalling his long-standing promise, Simon looked torn. Sylvie covered her face and began to sob. “Forget it, just forget it… I’ll just go with my grandfather…” She tried to stand, then crumpled back to the floor with a delicate, theatrical shudder. Simon’s heart broke for her. He rushed to her side, gathering her into his arms. He looked back at me, his eyes turning to ice. “Ingrid, I’m not asking you.” “You’ve always done what I said. This time will be no different.” I scoffed, a plan already forming in my mind. If I refused to sign, it would take him at least two months to force a divorce through the courts. By New Year’s Eve, six days from now, it would all be over. As I turned to leave, Simon grabbed my wrist. “Where are you going?” I shot him a cold glance. “I don’t want to look at either of you. I’m leaving.” Simon sneered, his eyes glinting with a look that said he saw right through me. “Think you can run away from this? Planning to run to Mom and Dad and tattle?” He started dragging me towards the door. “We’re going to City Hall right now. We are getting this done today.” 3 On the way to City Hall, Simon held my hand in a vise grip, as if he expected me to leap from the moving car. “Ingrid, just one month. I promise.” I said nothing, merely trying to pull my hand free. He clamped down again, his voice insistent. “Sylvie and I won’t make it public. No wedding, no ceremony. No one on the outside will know. You’ll still be Mrs. Beaumont to everyone.” I was silently calculating my next move. How could I blow this up? If I created a big enough scene, could he really force me? I slipped my hand into my coat pocket and discreetly sent a text. The contact was saved as “Jennings – Reporter.” Three years ago, he’d broken a scandal about Simon and was nearly ruined by the Beaumont family’s retaliation. I had been the one to call off the dogs. He despised Simon, and he owed me a favor. We finally arrived at the steps of City Hall. Just as we were about to get out of the car, a swarm of reporters materialized around us. “Mr. Beaumont, are you here to file for divorce? You and Miss Sylvie just made your relationship official yesterday. Are you planning to make an honest woman of her?” “Mrs. Beaumont, do you have any comment on your husband’s infidelity? After tolerating it for so long, why has it come to this?” Simon froze, clearly ambushed and completely unprepared. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. I linked my arm through his, forcing a graceful smile. “You’ve all misunderstood. We’re not here for a divorce.” “Today is our tenth wedding anniversary. We’re just here to revisit where it all began…” Simon’s arm went rigid beneath my touch. After a few seconds, he recovered, his own lips curving into a strained, placid smile. “That’s right.” The reporters were stunned but pressed on. “Then what about Miss Sylvie…” “Sylvie is a new actress my husband’s company just signed,” I interjected, my smile feeling brittle. “The announcement… it was all just publicity for her new series. Isn’t that right, dear?” Simon ground his teeth, but nodded. “Yes.” I seized the opportunity, pulling him back towards the car, ready to make our escape. But just then, a piercing scream cut through the air. “Look! Someone’s going to jump!” Across the street, on the rooftop of an office building, a lone figure in white stood against the sky. The wind was strong, whipping at her clothes and making her sway precariously on the ledge. It was Sylvie. My heart sank. This was bad. This was very, very bad. As expected, Simon lost his composure, shouting her name in a panic. “Sylvie! Don’t do anything stupid!” Sylvie looked down at him, tears streaming down her face, her voice choked with sobs. “Simon, I can’t live without you…” Simon ran his hands through his hair in desperation. “Get down from there! I’ll divorce her! I’ll do it right now!” He spun back to me, his eyes wild. “Ingrid, get inside. We’re getting a divorce!” The reporters’ cameras swiveled in unison, focusing on my deathly pale face. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. 4 “Is this divorce voluntary?” The clerk behind the counter looked up, her gaze sharp and suspicious. I opened my mouth to say “No.” But Simon’s fingers dug into the soft flesh between my thumb and forefinger, a jolt of pain silencing me. The clerk asked the question again. Simon’s other hand pressed down on the back of my neck, forcing my head down in a nod. Once. Twice. The clerk stood up, her voice tinged with anger. “Sir, this is coercion!” Simon let out a cold laugh. “Fine. Ask her yourself if it’s voluntary.” He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “Think about your three children, Ingrid. If you don’t sign, they won’t be Beaumonts tomorrow.” My entire body went rigid. I looked up at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Simon, they are your children!” “So what?” His eyes were like chips of ice. “The Beaumonts are never short on heirs. I can have more whenever I want. But you, Ingrid… can you afford that gamble?” I couldn’t. Ten years of forbearance, forty-nine betrayals. I had bled my heart dry, waiting not just for Simon’s death, but for the day my children could inherit everything that was rightfully theirs. To protect them, I had no choice. A bitter taste filled my mouth as I spoke. “I am here voluntarily.” The clerk stared at me for a few more seconds before finally sitting down and pushing the forms across the counter. As I signed the last stroke, my hand was trembling. Not from sadness, but from the searing bitterness of defeat.

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