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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1 My period lasted over two weeks due to hormonal issues. Luke’s childhood friend Cassidy smirked, “Poor Luke, with a wife you can’t even use.” Our friends laughed. I replied sweetly, “Why would he be miserable? He’s happy to have a break from his little blue pills.” The room fell silent, then erupted in louder laughter. Luke lost his smile. “What are you talking about?” “I’m not making it up,” I said innocently. His ears reddened as he whispered, “That was one time! It’s private!” “And my hormones aren’t private?” I shot back. A friend teased, “Secrets? Is the missus complaining?” Still angry Luke had shared my health issues, I scoffed. He panicked. “Enough! She’s sensitive and just getting back at me.” “Right,” I said with a wry smile. “Just getting back at him.” My tone made it seem like I was saving his face. His friends exchanged knowing glances. Then Cassidy spoke up. “I can vouch for Luke’s stamina. He doesn’t need help.” I gave her a long, hard look. Her comment stunned the table into silence. The guy who had been teasing Luke earlier even tried to rein her in. “Cassie, are you insane? You’re going to wreck Luke’s marriage.” He then turned to me. “Reina, Cassie’s always been one to speak without thinking. Don’t take her seriously.” I crossed my arms, the fire I had just managed to bank flaring up again. Cassidy. I remembered her. She had always used a loud, “I’m just one of the guys” personality to mask her complete lack of manners. On my wedding night with Luke, she was the one who insisted we play some vulgar party game involving a banana. She’d grabbed one, and before she could shove it between Luke’s legs, his face had darkened. “Cassie, that’s enough.” Luke, at least back then, had the decency to shut it down immediately. I had let it go, dismissed it. But now, with this new stunt, it all came rushing back. Luke was about to speak. I beat him to it. “What? Did you two sleep together or something?” A blush crept up Cassidy’s neck. She had started this, but now that I’d called her bluff, she looked flustered. “No! Of course not.” The blush on her face deepened. The silence in the room was deafening. Luke’s voice suddenly sharpened. “Reina, that’s enough. Don’t be so aggressive. My friends have loose lips, that’s all. Let it go.” He shot me a look of clear disapproval. A bitter laugh escaped me, my anger spiking. “So now I’m the one being aggressive?” Seeing a full-blown fight was about to erupt, his friends quickly tried to mediate. “Cassie, just apologize to Reina, and we can all move on.” “Yeah, this is on you, Cass. Look, you’re causing a crisis in Luke’s marriage.” Cassidy pouted and mumbled an apology in my direction. I was cornered, hoisted on a pedestal of supposed magnanimity. I had no choice but to drop the argument with Luke. 2 Near the end of the night, I got up to use the restroom. Halfway there, I realized I’d forgotten a pad. As I walked back to the private room to grab one, I heard their voices drift out. “Over half a month without, huh? Ash, you basically a monk?” “No wonder Cassie was asking. I’m also wondering what the point of you getting married was.” “So is it true what your wife said? You really need the pills?” The room was filled with laughter, the tension that had been present when I was there completely gone. Cassidy’s voice was petulant. “Hmph, not a single one of you stood up for me just now, and here you are, running your mouths.” “Who told you to say something so reckless?” “Yeah, nobody was gonna touch that line.” “How would you know about Luke’s performance anyway? Did you test it out for him?” The jokes were getting more and more out of line. Cassidy’s voice held a trace of coyness. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But the friends, sensing blood in the water, pressed on. “So how do you know? Spill it.” “It was… back in college, we all went swimming together, remember? Luke was wearing swim trunks… it was… really obvious.” She stammered through the explanation. Her answer was met with a roar of laughter. “Cassie, you’re not telling us everything. Why were you staring there when you were supposed to be swimming?” “Ash, man, you got married too soon. It’s obvious Cassie’s been waiting to pounce.” Luke’s voice, laced with a helpless laugh, cut in. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. My wife’s here tonight, so rein it in. She can’t take a joke.” The mention of my name plunged the room into silence. Then, someone spoke up. “Man, you just can’t bring wives to guys’ night.” “If only all women could take a joke like Cassie.” “But seriously, Ash, how obvious are we talking?” There was a scrape of a chair, as if someone had stood up abruptly. “I’ll show you just how obvious it is right now.” Amid a chorus of whoops and hollers, I pushed the door open. Cassidy was draped over Luke, one of her hands frozen on his belt buckle. Any closer, and she would have been touching the very thing they were all talking about. Caught red-handed. They both looked mortified. A faint blush colored Cassidy’s cheeks. Luke frantically yanked his belt out of her grasp. “Wait, honey, let me explain.” I crossed my arms. “Explain what? Go on, let her pull it down. Let’s all have a look.” My words seemed to short-circuit his brain. “What?” I sneered. “Isn’t it so obvious? Let her unbuckle it so everyone can see just how obvious it is.” Cassidy didn’t dare make another move. I walked straight up to Luke, hooked a finger in his belt, and gave it a tug. He knew what I was about to do and jerked back, clamping a hand over his buckle. Any shred of guilt he might have felt vanished in an instant. “Alright, stop it. Aren’t you afraid of making a scene?” Making a scene? Who was the one making a scene here? “A minute ago, before I walked in, you were all having a grand old time talking about how she was checking you out. That wasn’t making a scene?” “Oh, so you guys talking about it is fine, but me asking you to show everyone is embarrassing?” No one at the table dared to speak. But I could feel their eyes on me. It wasn’t the cautious respect from before. It was annoyance. I had ruined their fun, again. My words left Luke speechless. The atmosphere was thick with tension. And, of course, it was Cassidy who spoke first. Her voice was a kitten’s mewl, dripping with fake contrition. “I’m so sorry, Reina. I really don’t know what’s okay to say and what isn’t. If I’ve upset you, I’ll just… I’ll leave.” She grabbed her purse and started for the door. Immediately, the other friends grabbed her arm, a flood of comforting words pouring out. “Cassie, you don’t have to go. We all know what you’re like.” “Yeah, Cass, it was just a joke. No one’s holding it against you.” “If anyone should leave, it shouldn’t be you.” One of them actually said it out loud. I raised an eyebrow at him, then looked back at Luke. “So, I guess that means I’m the one who should go?” Two can play at this game. I grabbed my own bag and made a show of rushing out. Not a single one of those hypocritical friends moved to stop me. It wasn’t until I reached the ground floor that I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Luke, after some deliberation, had decided to catch up. “Reina, don’t be angry.” He grabbed my arm, forcing me to turn and face him. Before I could say a word, I saw Cassidy scurrying down the stairs behind him. She was holding Luke’s phone. “Luke, your mom just called. She said she wants us to come to your parents’ place for dinner this weekend.” Cassidy placed the phone in Luke’s hand. Her eyes flickered towards me. A clear provocation. “Okay, thanks.” 3 He actually thanked her. I wrenched my arm out of Luke’s grasp. “Wow, you even know his lock screen password. I’m starting to ship you two.” His face stiffened. “Reina, don’t be ridiculous.” Cassidy hid behind Luke, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of me noticing that little detail. “Reina, it’s normal to know his password. Everyone knows Luke’s password is your birthday.” She sounded so reasonable. Luke looked even more embarrassed. I jumped in. “Everyone knows? Oh, so all his buddies can just unlock his phone whenever they want, answer his calls? His mom just called to invite the two of you to dinner. Why didn’t she invite the whole gang?” Luke took a step closer, trying to pull me away. “Don’t make it sound so ugly.” “My mom watched Cassie grow up. It’s that simple.” Cassidy stood to the side, looking anxious. “If it bothers you so much, Reina, I just won’t go.” “Oh no, don’t do that. Anyone can skip, but how could the two of you not go? If you don’t go, his mother will be so sad.” Luke tugged on my arm, signaling me to stop. I glared at him. “What are you pulling me for? Does your mother not have a son? Does Cassie not have parents? Why do they need to play happy family with someone else’s kid?” Luke’s face darkened. “Reina!” Whether it was my words that actually hurt her or not, I couldn’t tell. But Cassidy’s eyes welled up, and she turned and ran back up the stairs. Luke pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Reina, all I wanted was a peaceful dinner.” “Right. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have stopped you all from talking about me. I’m no fun. I can’t take a joke.” I looked at the blame in Luke’s eyes. It was like I was seeing him for the first time, and my heart sank. Luke was the one who pursued me. We had been interns at the same company. When we first got together, my family had a pretty good impression of him. He was smart, did well in school, and back then, he was even humble. The only thing they were concerned about was his family’s financial situation. There was no way he could afford to buy a house. Then they met his parents. After that, my parents were dead set against the marriage. My family wasn’t wealthy, but we were comfortably middle class. Luke’s parents were from a working-class background. And they had a certain… coarseness about them. We first met at a five-star restaurant. His parents were rude to the waitstaff. And when the bill came, they just sat there and watched my parents pay. Not even a token gesture of offering to contribute. What infuriated my parents even more was what happened next. At the time, Luke was renting an apartment. I would occasionally visit, and if it got late, I’d stay the night. His parents actually brought this up in front of my parents. The implication was clear: I was already one of them. On the ride home, I sat in my parents’ car. I rarely saw them lose their composure, but that day, they did. “Those people are thieves! You think they brought that up because they have no manners? No, it was a calculated move to get out of paying a dowry!” “Think about it! Why else wouldn’t they even offer to pay for dinner?” But I was blinded by love back then. I actually argued with them. “They’re just straightforward, they don’t have any bad intentions. The last time I went to their house, they said I was too skinny and made me pork knuckles.” “They probably saw you were already paying the bill and felt too awkward to say anything.” “Besides, I’m marrying Luke, not his parents.” My dad scoffed at that. “They can’t even afford a house. You’ll be crammed into some tiny apartment with them whether you like it or not!” But in the end, parents can rarely win against their children’s will. I refused to break up with Luke. My parents had no choice but to pay the down payment on a house for us. Their only condition to Luke was that he never let me be wronged. Perhaps Luke was grateful, once. But as time went on, he began to see everything my parents and I did for him as his due.

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1 I paid a fortune to buy Damian Vance at a private auction. He set three rules for me: an unlimited Amex black card, cleaning up every mess he made without question, and never asking about his personal life. He would only leave with me if I agreed. Everyone thought he was insane, but I simply nodded and said, “Just take good care of that face.” For three years, I spent over a hundred million dollars on him. People called me crazy for a pretty face, but I didn’t care. The day my father died, Damian crashed his race car. As I rushed to handle it, I overheard his friends joking at the door. “Damn, Damian, you’ve got the ice queen trained like a puppy. Marrying her should be easy.” Once her old man’s gone, you marry her and the family fortune is yours, right?” They laughed cruelly. Then Damian’s cool voice came from the center of the group: “Her? Marry me? As if.” The door swung open. Under their stunned stares, I walked calmly to Damian, ignoring the unease in his eyes. I carefully wiped a smudge of dirt from his forehead and sighed in relief. “As long as the face is okay.” … Damian jerked his head away, annoyed. “It was nothing. God, Seraphina, can you be any more annoying?” Sensing the tension, his friends tried to smooth things over, subtly trying to figure out if I’d heard their conversation. Damian watched me, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. Looking at that face, still so anxious, I couldn’t bring myself to be cruel. I shook my head. Just as he was breathing a sigh of relief, there was a commotion at the door. It was Isla, Damian’s childhood friend. He shot to his feet, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “What are you doing here? I told you it was nothing. You didn’t have to come all the way out here in this storm.” Isla clutched her umbrella, her eyes filling with tears the moment she saw the scrapes on Damian. “I was so worried about you. And the thunder is so loud, I was scared…” Damian’s heart melted. He gently wiped her tears away. “It’s getting late. I’ll take you home, tuck you in.” With that, they gathered their things to leave. I just watched silently, ignoring the awkward looks from the others. Just as he’d demanded when I bought him. I would not ask about his personal life. Before he left, Damian turned to me without a hint of shame. “My car’s wrecked. I’m taking yours. Figure out your own way home.” Then he carefully draped his jacket over Isla’s shoulders and walked out with his arm around her. It never once crossed his mind what I was supposed to do, alone, in the pouring rain. “Sera, Damian, he…” one of his friends started, stammering. “Don’t bother explaining,” I cut him off. In Damian’s heart, I would never measure up to Isla. What little patience and tenderness he possessed were all reserved for her. I had accepted it long ago. No matter how much this man’s face resembled his, he would never be him. But just to be able to see that face I longed for day and night, I was willing to endure it. I called my driver to pick me up and take me to the funeral home to handle my father’s arrangements. It was past midnight when I finally got home. The living room light was on, which was a surprise. Normally, he would have been asleep hours ago. Damian saw my exhausted face and frowned. “What took you so long?” “I had things to do,” I said flatly. He scoffed, clearly not believing me. “Do you ever get tired of this act?” “So I spent some time with Isla. She’s just a young woman, worried about me, and she came all the way out in a storm to check on me. She’s timid.” “What’s wrong with me taking her home?” He completely ignored the fact that I had also dropped everything, in the middle of the night, to rush to his side. I rubbed my temples, not wanting to argue. Seeing this, Damian stepped forward and tilted my chin up. He leaned in to kiss me, as if bestowing a great favor. I turned my head away. His face darkened. “That’s enough. What’s the attitude for?” “My father died. I’m not in the mood.” Damian froze. I didn’t wait for his reaction. I turned and went into the bedroom. Sometime later, Damian slipped into bed beside me, smelling of soap and steam from the shower. He gently took my hand. “I didn’t know.” I didn’t answer. He continued, as if talking to himself. “By the way, Isla’s birthday is coming up. I saw this emerald and diamond necklace in a magazine the other day, it was beautiful.” “I asked about it. It’s an antique, not for sale.” “I remember you have one just like it in your jewelry box. You never wear it anyway. Why not give it to Isla? It would make her happy.” My headache intensified. My voice was ice. “That was my mother’s wedding gift from my grandmother. I will not give it away.” The hand holding mine went rigid. It was the first time I had ever refused him. He clenched his jaw, let go of my hand, and got out of bed. He dressed and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. I didn’t move. I just rolled over and fell into a heavy sleep. 2 I drove to my father’s funeral. The moment I got in the car, I saw them on the passenger seat: a pair of lace panties, stained and discarded. The only person who had driven this car recently was Damian, when he took Isla home. Time was short. I took another car. The guests were beginning to arrive when Damian finally showed up, with Isla on his arm. “Isla wasn’t feeling well this morning. Sorry we’re late.” I lowered my eyes. “Take your seats.” Perhaps the room was a bit warm, because Isla took off her trench coat. In an instant, she became the center of attention. Underneath, she was wearing a brilliant, fiery red dress. Noticing the stares, Isla shrank behind Damian. “What’s wrong?” she whimpered. “Why is everyone looking at me?” She clutched his sleeve, and he immediately wrapped her in a protective embrace, murmuring comforting words. That was it. My famous patience finally snapped. “Either take that dress off, or get the hell out,” I said, my eyes like chips of ice. “Wearing bright red to my father’s funeral. You have some nerve, Miss Pearce.” The guests fell silent, watching the scene unfold. Isla looked as though she’d been mortally wounded. She bit her lip, her eyes turning red. “Fine, I’ll go!” She turned and ran. Damian shot me a dark, furious glare, snatched Isla’s coat from her chair, and chased after her. I squeezed my eyes shut, taking several deep breaths. “My apologies. Please, let’s continue.” Everyone snapped back to reality, pretending nothing had happened. I sank into my seat, defeated. I could already imagine the gossip that would spread after this. A bitter sting filled my nose. If only he were here. After the funeral, Damian returned. His clothes were more disheveled than when he had left. He stormed up to me, his voice thick with anger. “Was it really necessary to humiliate Isla like that in front of everyone over something so small?” “She’s a young woman, she doesn’t know any better. Why did you have to attack her?” “Is this because I went to comfort her the other night? That was days ago! Are you still holding onto that?” His accusations were so relentless that a bitter laugh escaped me. Normally, I would have pretended not to see, not to care. But not today. “This is my father’s funeral,” I said with biting sarcasm. “Who exactly is causing the scene here?” He faltered, his gaze shifting away. After a moment, he offered a condescending compromise. “Fine. I’ll talk to her about it later. You have no right to lecture her.” “Isla fell when she ran out. You own that private hospital downtown. Get them to prepare the best suite for her.” “And arrange a full set of check-ups. Then we’ll consider this matter closed.” Without a second thought, I refused. “Impossible.” I might clean up his messes, but I wouldn’t indulge this. “You’re becoming more and more unreasonable.” Damian ripped off his tie and threw it on the ground before storming off. When I got home that night, I found Isla sitting at the dining table, in my seat. In front of her was a bowl of the nourishing soup my private chef prepared for me. Seeing me, Isla’s voice was sickly sweet. “Oh, Sera, you’re back! Damian said Wang’s soup is the best for recovery. It’s just what I need.” “You should have a bowl too.” I glanced at her and walked past without a word. Damian intercepted me, draping an arm over my shoulder. His tone was uncharacteristically gentle. “I’ve thought about it. If you don’t want her at the hospital, fine. We have a family doctor here anyway. Isla can just stay with us.” “She likes your master bedroom, the one that gets the morning sun. You should let her have it. It will be good for her recovery.” Damian was certain I wouldn’t refuse him again. After all, for years, whatever he wanted, he got. Even a limited-edition supercar worth tens of millions, I would buy for him without blinking, filling an entire garage. 3 Without waiting for my answer, Damian pulled me to the dining table. He pushed a small dish of shredded bamboo shoots in front of me. “That dish you like, from the little place across town. I bought it for you. Eat up.” I stared at the dish. It wasn’t me who liked it. It was him. After his accident, it became my favorite dish too. I picked up my chopsticks and took a bite. It still tasted the same. Seeing me cooperate, Damian’s expression softened. A flash of jealousy crossed Isla’s eyes. She placed a piece of braised pork heart in my bowl. Then she gasped in mock horror. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Sera! I forgot your father’s heart condition…” “I’m always so clumsy. Please don’t be angry.” She shot a helpless look at Damian. He ruffled her hair, his expression doting. “It’s okay. I’m here.” Then he looked at me, his tone flat. “Isla is young. Don’t hold it against her.” With that, he rolled up his sleeves and began expertly peeling shrimp for her. On his wrist, I saw a small hair tie that belonged to Isla. Watching them, I lost my appetite completely. I put down my chopsticks. Seeing that I was “done,” Damian spoke again. “Isla’s lease is up. You should get her an apartment to tide her over.” “That large penthouse you have downtown would be perfect. It’s beautifully furnished, and it would be convenient for her to look for a job.” The penthouse he was talking about was the one I had prepared as our marital home. He had designed the interior himself, all in my favorite style. I found it almost funny. My lack of boundaries with him had spoiled him rotten. He thought I would keep bending for him, time and time again. But when it came to anything related to him, I couldn’t let it go. “Damian, are you asking me to support your mistress too?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. Isla shot to her feet, her face a mask of humiliation. “Sera, I know you’ve always been bothered by my relationship with Damian, but we’re innocent!” She turned to Damian, her eyes welling with tears. “I’m the one causing trouble. I’m sorry, Damian. I’ll leave right now.” Damian grabbed her arm, his voice turning to ice as he looked at me. “Apologize to Isla.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Did I say something wrong?” “Or was that pair of panties in the passenger seat of my car not yours?” Isla gasped, her face flushing a deep red. She shook her head. “You’ve really misunderstood. I was ovulating that day, and it was so uncomfortable. Damian just… used his hand to help me.” “We’ve been close since we were kids. It’s not a big deal.” Damian pulled her into his arms, patting her back soothingly. “You don’t have to explain. She’s always suspicious about everything.” He looked at me, his eyes cold. “Do you really think acting like this will make me pay more attention to you?” “There’s a limit to these tantrums. I’ll spend more time with you later, isn’t that enough?” “Isla can’t handle being upset.” “If you keep this up, I’m moving out with Isla.” I heard the unspoken threat. He was blackmailing me. Usually, whenever Damian said that, I would immediately back down, no matter what the issue was. I would give in to his demands until he was satisfied. Only then would he magnanimously “forgive” me. But this time, my attention was completely captured by the phone that had just vibrated in my hand. It was a text message. From a number I knew by heart, a number I thought was lost to the world forever. 【Sera, wait for me.】 Four simple words. I just stared at my phone, frozen.

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Brooks gave me the divorce papers the same day his Great Love finally flew home. “Serena,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of the emotion that used to flicker for me in public. “We’re done. Daphne’s back in the States and she’s been struggling. She needs me.” I looked down at my phone, where I’d been finalizing the details for our tenth anniversary surprise—a weekend trip to the Vineyard and a vintage Patek Philippe he’d mentioned once. Quietly, I hit the ‘delete’ button on the itinerary. “When I spent the first decade of my life helping you pay off a half-billion in inherited debt,” I replied, my voice disturbingly calm, “you swore to me you’d only ever need me.” But Brooks’ eyes held only a consuming guilt—a guilt reserved entirely for Daphne. “I didn’t have a choice then, Ren. Now I’m finally choosing to be honest with myself. I need to live my own life. Please. Just set me free.” I stared at the documents for a long time. Then I signed on the line. The first thing I did after dropping the pen was dial a number. “It’s done,” I said into the phone. “We’re divorced. Does the original dare still stand?” A high-pitched, excited squeal came through the receiver. “God, yes! Absolutely it does!” I barely hung up before a crowd of people burst through the door of my office. Streamers and champagne corks flew. Pop! Foam sprayed everywhere. “Congratulations, Brooks! You’re finally free from the gold shackles!” They cheered, shoving a woman directly in front of him. It was Daphne Wells—his legendary, unattainable high school sweetheart. Daphne’s voice was thick with the thrill of a long-awaited reunion. “Brooks. I’m home.” Brooks completely lost control, yanking her into a fierce embrace. The room erupted in wolf-whistles. “Look, look! The great American romance! True love always wins!” “If Brooks’ family hadn’t imploded and Daphne hadn’t left for Paris, we wouldn’t have had this awkward decade with the convenient replacement. Some people are just opportunists, trying to capitalize on a man’s ruin.” I didn’t say a word. I simply picked up the nearest glass of whiskey and emptied it. The bitter, raw burn wasn’t pleasant, but it was the flavor of the last ten years. The endless grind of keeping the Ashton Enterprises conglomerate afloat—the frantic corporate dinners, the backroom deals, the time I pushed myself so hard to secure funding I landed in the emergency room with a bleeding ulcer. Daphne leaned back in Brooks’ arms, then turned her attention to me. “Serena Ashton,” she purred, the lack of a formal title deliberate. “I’m truly sorry I had to take Brooks back. If you’re not busy, I’d love to take everyone out tonight to celebrate. We can all be friends.” I set the empty glass down, my eyes locking on hers. “Dinner isn’t necessary.” My voice was low, cutting. “It was ten years of marriage, and I haven’t quite finished digesting the fact that my ex-husband’s low-rent sidepiece broke up my home.” Brooks’ face flushed a deep crimson, his agitation immediate. “Serena, don’t be ridiculous! You signed the agreement! I didn’t cheat! You have no right to insult Daphne!” Daphne placed a soft hand on his chest, a calming gesture for the crowd. “It’s okay, Brooks. Serena, you don’t have to attack me. I know you’re having trouble accepting that Brooks never truly loved you.” She offered a saccharine smile. “Now that I’m back, I’ll make things right. I’ll make sure the half-billion dollars you paid off gets reimbursed.” A fresh wave of applause broke out. “That’s our Daphne! Now that’s devotion!” “Some people think a little dirty money can buy love. Disgusting.” I laughed, looking down at a new text message on my phone. Brooks. Brooks. Daphne had been gone for ten years. She returns and immediately takes him. Didn’t he ever wonder why? But I was tired. I was utterly done. Some lessons, especially the painful, concrete ones, a man just has to learn for himself. “Fine,” I said, shrugging into my coat. “Since Ms. Wells is so principled, I’ll wait for that wire transfer.” Ten years ago, Brooks was a shell of a man, alone and broken. Today, he was surrounded by sycophants. But as I watched the group leave, I was hit by a moment of disorientation. I remembered when his father’s real estate venture collapsed and he took his own life. My family took Brooks in out of loyalty to his father. He was a trembling, tearful boy. “R-Renny,” he’d whispered, his eyes red and swollen. “Hello. I’m Brooks Tanner.” Renny. I hadn’t heard that childhood nickname in years. He was quiet, incredibly eager to please. He’d help the housekeeper, hand me a chilled bottle of water after my morning run, or bring me a mug of hot cocoa when I studied late. I treated him well because of that dependent, shaky delivery of my name. When his father’s creditors came calling, my dad proposed the only way out: an immediate marriage alliance between us. I didn’t object. Brooks, however, panicked. “Renny, I can’t marry you! I… I have someone I love. Her name is Daphne. We were supposed to go to the same university.” My chest had tightened painfully. “Where is she now?” He shook his head, looking lost. “She went abroad. I can’t reach her.” I saw the tremor in his shoulders and softened. “Marry me, Brooks. You won’t have to worry about the debt, and you can still pursue your education. If you find Daphne, and she can fix this mess, I’ll let you go. No strings.” On our wedding night, he slept with his back to me. “Serena. Thank you. But I won’t ever love you. Daphne is my only love.” I lay on my side of the massive king-sized bed, a gulf between us. I thought: It’s fine. Ten years. Twenty years. A lifetime is long. Love will come. I cleared the $500 million debt and launched his career. Everyone in our circle called Brooks the luckiest man in America, blessed with a wife who saw only him. Yet in ten years, he never called me his wife. And even that tentative, dependent nickname—Renny—vanished, along with the desperate boy I’d taken in. My phone vibrated, dragging me back from the memory. I answered, and a drunken howl blasted through the speaker. “Serena! Where the hell are you? Get down here and cover this tab!” I drove to the address. As soon as I walked in, a body cannonballed into my arms. “Cuz! You took forever! Where’s Brooks? Why didn’t he come with you?” My cousin, Max Riley, was visibly wasted. I steadied him before he hit the floor. “He’s not my husband anymore, Max. We divorced.” The alcohol seemed to drain out of Max instantly. “No way! Ren, you’re messing with me! You practically risked your life for him—you almost…” I knew exactly what he was about to say. That year, Brooks was set up by a competitor and tangled in a lawsuit. I’d gone to meet the sharks to negotiate for a crucial piece of evidence that would clear his name. They demanded $30 million. I agreed. Then they changed the deal. They wanted a limb. They said they were sick of rich kids having everything. I took a beating for that piece of evidence. A compound fracture. Doctors said a few more millimeters and I’d have lost the use of my left leg. I hid the true extent of the injury from Brooks. Max was the one who nursed me for three months. I was trying to stop the memory when the room filled with the sound of laughter. Brooks, Daphne, and their posse walked in. One of Brooks’ friends sneered. “Well, look at Serena Ashton. Divorced for barely two hours and she’s already got a new boy toy in tow. Fast work.” Brooks frowned, stepping in. “Don’t be an idiot. That’s her cousin.” “Cousin?” The man winked suggestively at his friends. “We know the routine. Brother > Stepbrother, Stepbrother > Toyboy. We get it, Brooks. Don’t worry.” The vulgarity was nauseating. Before I could speak, Max exploded. He snatched a glass bottle off a table and brandished it, pointing. “Know my mother, you mean? Say one more word about my cousin and I will tear your throat out, you disgusting pig.” Daphne’s face hardened. “It was a joke. We’re all friends here. Take it down a notch.” Max laughed—a furious, derisive sound—and shoved the bottle closer. “Jokes? That garbage spewing from your mouth is a joke? Were you not raised by human beings? Do you have no concept of manners?” “Max!” Brooks roared, his face contorted in anger. “You’ve gone far enough! Apologize to Daphne, right now!” Max stared at Brooks, aghast. “Brooks—no, Serena’s ex! You want me to apologize to her? She insulted me, insulted Ren, and you’re defending her? Who came crying to my cousin to save your family’s ass ten years ago? Now that your Great Love is back, you’re kicking Ren to the curb and acting like a martyr?” Max’s voice rose to a shout. “You’re a despicable opportunist!” Brooks physically stepped in front of Daphne. “I’m divorced from Serena! I only ever loved Daphne! And Serena isn’t even bothered, so why are you so hysterical?” He shot me a look of pure accusation, as if I had orchestrated the entire confrontation. Daphne tucked her hand into the crook of Brooks’ arm and gave me a victorious, challenging look. “Serena, control your cousin. He’s making a fool of himself.” Max was shaking with fury, but he let me pull him away toward the exit. Daphne suddenly blocked our path with her foot. “You insult me, and you think you can just leave?” She lowered her voice to a dangerous hiss. “Kneel. And apologize.” “Kiss my ass!” Max screamed back. The next second, a glass bottle shattered against Max’s skull. Blood immediately streamed down his forehead. Daphne stood there, the broken neck of the bottle in her hand. She feigned surprise and dropped the jagged remains. “Oops. My hand slipped.” Her eyes were cold. “But honestly, your mouth needed a little cleansing. Consider this a wake-up call.” The crowd roared with laughter. Max was pale with pain, but he tried to lunge at her. I gripped his arm, holding him fast. I looked up at Brooks. He wasn’t looking at Max. He was looking at Daphne’s hand, his face etched with concern. “Daphne, are you cut? Did the glass hurt you?” Max, bleeding profusely, might as well have been furniture. “Brooks!” I finally snapped. “Max has been calling you ‘Cuz’ for ten years. Do you have a heart?” Brooks glanced at Max, annoyed. “Stop being dramatic. It’s a shallow cut. Get a few stitches and you’ll be fine. He brought it on himself by insulting Daphne.” Without another word, I grabbed a bottle of red wine off the table. CRASH. The bottle shattered against the marble table edge, leaving me holding the jagged neck, a razor-sharp weapon. Daphne didn’t even have time to react before I was in front of her. The sharp point of the glass rested against her carotid artery. “Serena! You’re insane!” Brooks shrieked, charging at me, trying to pull me away. “You let go of Daphne! Your cousin started it! Are you going to murder her over a scratch?” I turned my head, my gaze chilling him instantly. “Get out.” I said the word slowly, with absolute finality. I pressed the glass just a fraction deeper. Brooks panicked. “Serena! Don’t do this! I’ll apologize for her! I’ll pay any medical bill! Max has a scratch, you’re acting like a psychopath! Are you trying to blackmail me into coming back? You’re pathetic, Serena. You’re utterly vile!” But watching Max, pale and in pain, still trying to protect me, I realized the full extent of Brooks’ moral decay. He truly repulsed me. “What makes you think you’re so important?” I yelled, giving them all a target. “I have a fiancé now. Why would I want a divorced, leeching opportunist like you?” While I shouted, the men in the group managed to pry Daphne from my grasp. They immediately surrounded me, roaring with contemptuous laughter. “Serena, did you develop a delusion disorder after the divorce?” “A fiancé? Who did you call, a random gigolo off the street?” Brooks shoved his way to the front, shielding Daphne, his face a mask of scorn. “Stop the lies! You can’t love anyone but me! You’re just saying this to provoke me, to make me regret it! Serena, stop acting like a child. Who else would ever want you?” The crowd waited for my humiliation. But the next second, a man flanked by a phalanx of security guards strode into the room. “I do.” The familiar, deep voice made Brooks swing around. When he saw the man’s face, Brooks went dead silent.

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My boyfriend was taking me to his trust-fund crowd’s party for the very first time. The moment his female friend—one of the few girls in his inner circle—saw me, she rushed over, threw her arms around me, and practically yelled. “Oh my god, Babe! You are stunning! Seriously, look at her—so graceful and totally polished!” “No wonder Brody likes you! I might even develop a crush myself!” She then covered her mouth in mock surprise, leaning in conspiratorially. “Did you, like, go to one of those Socialite Coaching classes? I’m just too much of a mess—one of the guys—I could never learn all that stuff.” “I heard those places only teach gold diggers how to hook a whale. But wow, it clearly works! Did they really teach you how to snag Brody?” “Seriously, you’re so good! Must have cost a fortune, right?” The private lounge instantly erupted. Brody’s cronies started to whoop and cheer. “I knew she looked mass-produced! Brody, you gotta be careful, man, don’t get played!” “Yeah, these professional catches are getting better and better. Even we almost missed it.” Brody looked vaguely embarrassed but still defended Piper Connelly. “Tatum, Piper’s just blunt, man. She’s just a tomboy, no filter. It’s a joke, so don’t give me that sour face and ruin the vibe.” I didn’t get angry. Instead, I simply nodded. I had, in fact, been to that class. But my identity was far from what she assumed. Since she’d decided to air it out in public, she shouldn’t blame me for not holding back. 1 It was Saturday night, and Brody Graham was taking me to his usual crew’s gathering for the first time. The moment we pushed open the door to the velvet-draped private room, a woman in a tiny silk slip dress and hot pants surged forward. “Brody! You’re finally here! Three shots, right now!” She completely ignored me, hanging right off Brody’s neck. “Pip, cut it out. My girlfriend’s here,” Brody said, chuckling as he gently pushed her away. Piper Connelly finally looked at me, as if she were just noticing I existed, peering out from Brody’s shoulder. “Oh, there’s the girlfriend! My bad, Babe. Brody and I are like brothers, we have no boundaries. Don’t mind me.” She apologized with her mouth, but her body was still pressed against Brody’s arm, and her eyes held a distinct challenge. I smoothed the fabric of my dress, my expression neutral. “Since you know you have no boundaries, just try to keep it in check next time.” The air in the VIP room froze for a single beat. Piper’s practiced smile wavered, then she finally stepped away from Brody and circled me slowly. “Wow! Seriously, look at you! That posture, that subtle smile… you are so graceful and polished!” She clapped her hands dramatically, drawing the attention of the surrounding trust-funders. “No wonder Brody’s obsessed! That whole… vibe… ugh, I could never pull it off.” Piper covered her mouth, feigning innocence, and leaned closer. “Babe, did you, like, go to one of those high-end Socialite Coaching classes? I’m just one of the guys—a total mess—all that effort just looks exhausting.” I met her eyes coldly. “What exactly are you trying to say?” Piper let out a peal of artificial laughter. “Don’t get mad, I’m just curious! I heard those places specifically teach financially motivated women how to hook rich guys—they even give you a standard way to smile and hold a champagne flute.” “And wow, it clearly works! Did they really teach you how to snag Brody?” She turned to the others, raising her voice. “Guys, come look! This is what you call professional! Our new girl is good! Must’ve dropped major cash on the tuition, right?” Someone choked on their drink. Then, the mocking chorus began. “I knew she looked cookie-cutter. That chin—could cut glass.” “Brody, wake up, man. These pro gold diggers package themselves so well, they almost had us fooled too.” “Yeah, a total assembly line socialite. Spent her life savings to land a whale.” All their malicious gazes focused on me. Brody, clearly uncomfortable, tugged at Piper’s sleeve. “Alright, Pip, that’s enough.” “Why, Brody? I’m just vetting her for you!” Piper pulled her arm away, her face a picture of injured loyalty. “I’m afraid you’re getting played! Women who come out of those classes are all about strategy. Only someone like me, who genuinely treats you like a brother, would tell you the truth.” Brody glanced at the smirking faces around the room and lost his temper. “Tatum, don’t be so sensitive. Piper’s just blunt, man. She’s just a tomboy, no filter. It was a joke.” “A joke?” I gave a chilling laugh. “First time meeting me, and you’re spreading rumors that I’m a professional scammer. That’s your ‘no filter’?” Brody’s face darkened. “Are you done? Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you! Piper said she didn’t mean anything by it. Do you have to be so dramatic?” “Exactly, Babe.” Piper threw up her hands, looking innocent. “I’m just clumsy with words, I can’t hide a thing. If you don’t have anything to hide, why are you reacting so strongly? Did I hit a nerve?” As she spoke, she grabbed a bottle of red wine and two elegant glasses from the table. “Oh well, since I made you mad, I guess I’ll fine myself a drink.” She poured one glass full to the brim, but instead of drinking it, she held the other one out to me. “But seriously, since you’re a star student from the Finishing School, can you show me? How do you hold the glass to look truly high-class? Do I curl my pinky? Maybe a perfect forty-five-degree smile?” The room dissolved into another burst of laughter. “Show us! Come on, Babe, teach us!” “Let us see what tens of thousands of dollars in tuition gets you!” Brody stood aside, lighting a cigarette, making no move to stop her. He was watching me with a trace of suspicion, clearly second-guessing my identity. I ignored the glass. I just looked at Piper, my voice low and dangerous. “I suggest you stop now.” “Ooh, is the new girl looking down on me?” Piper taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Right. I’m just street trash. Not worthy of your high-end, professionally packaged goods.” She suddenly pulled out her phone and shoved the camera directly into my face. “Come on, come on! Since you won’t teach me, I’ll just film a quick clip and send it to the group chat. Let everyone decide!” “Smile, Babe! Don’t look so stiff! Give us that special look you used to hook Brody!” 2 Snap! I raised my hand and blocked the phone she was shoving into my face. It was a light push, but the phone clattered onto the thick rug with a dull thud. “Ah! My phone!” Piper shrieked, then spun on Brody. “Brody, look at her! It was just a joke, and she threw my phone! That was the anniversary gift you bought me!” Brody ground out his cigarette, his brow furrowed. “Tatum, that was excessive. It’s just a phone. Did you have to get physical?” “She was filming me without my permission and shoving the camera in my face. Should I not block it?” I countered flatly. “You still shouldn’t break things!” Brody snapped, impatience flooding his face. “Piper just likes to play around. You’re older—can’t you just let it go?” “Okay, okay, everyone cool down.” Chase, a guy with bleached-blond hair, jumped in, a smirk in his eyes. “Our girl’s got a temper. Did that finishing school teach self-defense too?” Piper rubbed her wrist, her eyes darting from me to Brody, then back. Suddenly, she switched to a sweet smile. “Okay, my bad too. As an apology, I’ll drink this glass as a toast to you.” She raised the wine glass to me, but her wrist tilted at a strange angle. “Oops, slippery floor!” Splash! The full glass of red wine was perfectly aimed, soaking the front of my white silk slip dress. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” Piper’s mouth apologized, but her eyes were full of triumphant glee. She reached out, pretending to dab at my wet chest, but pressing hard. “Oh no, Babe. Did you rent this dress? You’re going to have to pay a ton! Gotta call the Sugar Daddy for a reimbursement, quick!” The room exploded with harsh, mocking laughter. That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I violently slapped her hand away. “Get off me!” My shove wasn’t powerful, but Piper reacted as if she’d been hit by a wrecking ball. She flew backward, hitting the corner of the low coffee table with a thud before collapsing onto the floor. “Aah!! My stomach! It hurts!” She curled up, her face paper-white. “Babe… even if you were mad, you shouldn’t have pushed me…” “Piper!” Brody’s face changed instantly. He rushed over to help her up, then turned his bloodshot eyes on me. “Tatum! Are you insane? You know Piper has health issues! How dare you push her!” “I didn’t push her, she fell.” “I saw it with my own eyes, and you’re still lying!” Brody stood up and shoved me hard. I stumbled back, hitting the wall. A sharp pain shot up my spine. “Tatum, I can’t believe how twisted you are!” Brody pointed a finger at me. “If anything happens to Piper, I’m done with you!” “Brody… don’t blame her…” Piper weakly pulled his hand. “I just lost my footing… don’t fight with her because of me…” Brody held her tight, his expression full of protective tenderness, and looked at me as if I were the enemy. “See? Piper is still defending you! And you? Not even an apology? What kind of heartless piece of trash did that finishing school turn you into?” Nestled in his arms, Piper secretly gave me a small, victorious smile and raised the phone she still had clutched in her hand. “Babe, I accidentally recorded you pushing me just now.” She leaned in close, whispering so only I could hear. “A violent attacker being exposed online? Your perfect socialite persona is going to crash and burn. I wonder what man will still want you after this.” 3 “What are you going to do?” I stared at the phone in Piper’s hand, a cold certainty rising in my chest. Piper ignored me, her fingers flying across the screen—the interface of a video editing app. Less than two minutes later, several phones belonging to the guys in the room beeped simultaneously with a notification. “Holy hell! That title is spicy!” Chase yelled first. “Shocking! Trust-Fund Boyfriend Brings Home Socialite-School Girlfriend, Who Viciously Attacks His Childhood Friend When Exposed? Pip, your caption is genius!” “I got it too!” another girl squealed, holding up her phone. “It’s trending on the local feed! The comment section is already a war zone!” Piper leaned back in Brody’s arms, weakly waving her phone. “I didn’t want to do this, Babe. But I can’t just let you assault me, right? The internet needs to judge.” I pulled out my own phone. The video had already been shared thousands of times. It was clearly maliciously edited, showing only my cold glare, my hand swatting her away, and the shots of her dramatically screaming and clutching her stomach on the floor. Her splashing me with wine and her verbal abuse? Gone. Cleaned up. The accompanying text was vile: [Giving my big brother’s girlfriend a friendly warning—and this is what happens. These professionally trained gold diggers are terrifying. Avoid at all costs, family!] The comments were immediately disgusting: “She looks like a prostitute. That plastic surgery is dripping off her face.” “Assault? This manipulative bitch needs to be thrown off the planet!” “Find out who she is! Doxx her!” I shoved my screen in front of Brody. “Malicious editing, encouraging online harassment. That’s your ‘no filter’ friend?” Brody glanced at the screen full of venomous comments, his face turning an unhealthy shade of crimson. But he didn’t yell at Piper. He yelled at me. “Tatum! You have the nerve to complain?” Brody snatched my phone and threw it down. “If you hadn’t gotten physical first, would Piper have posted the video? Now look! The whole internet is attacking us—and I’m being doxxed! You’ve completely humiliated me!” “Apologize to Piper, right now! Film a video clarifying that you just had a breakdown, and stop dragging my name through the mud!” “I will not apologize,” I said, my gaze locked on Brody. “I am not the one in the wrong.” “You won’t apologize, huh?” Piper suddenly sat up in Brody’s lap, a malicious glint in her eyes. “Then don’t blame me for taking things to the next level.” She tapped the live-stream button on the social media app. “Good evening, everyone. I’m the person in that viral video…” Piper faced the camera, her eyes instantly filling with tears, her voice perfectly choked with sobs. “I’m still here in the VIP room. My stomach hurts so badly… and the woman who attacked me is still here. She won’t apologize and said I deserved it…” The live stream audience instantly soared from a few hundred to tens of thousands. The comments were a dense torrent of insults aimed at me. [Bitch! Still there?] [Show us her face! We want to see what this piece of trash looks like!] [Don’t worry, Pip! We have your back!] Piper abruptly swiveled the camera to face me. “It’s her.” In that moment, I felt as if I were naked, exposed to tens of thousands of strangers. The comments were flashing too fast to read, but the keywords were clear: Die, Slut, Get on your knees. The rich kids in the room excitedly gathered around, staring at me like a circus act. Chase even leaned into the camera to egg the audience on. “Guys, she was about to attack Brody too! She’s totally out of control!” “Tatum, I’m saying this one last time.” Brody stood just outside the camera’s frame, his voice firm. “You see the public outrage. If you get on your knees right now and apologize to Piper, admit you were jealous, this whole thing goes away. If not, don’t expect any more loyalty from me.” Piper held the phone, a winner’s smirk on her lips, and mouthed two words silently at me: Kneel down. I looked at the ring of sneering, monstrous faces, and suddenly, I felt a strange amusement. They thought this was my downfall. They didn’t know this was the stage I had been waiting for. I took a deep breath, faced the live camera, and instead of kneeling, I calmly adjusted the collar of my wine-stained dress. Then, I looked straight into Piper’s eyes and took a step toward her. “You want me to kneel?” I smiled—the first genuine smile I’d shown all night—directly into the lens. “Fine. Let these hundreds of thousands of viewers watch closely. Let’s see who is the one who truly deserves to be on their knees.” 4 “What are you doing? Are you going to hit me on a live stream?” Piper instinctively shrank back behind Brody, holding the phone higher. “Look, everyone! She’s acting out again! This violent psychopath is dangerous!” The comments exploded: [Call the cops! Arrest her!] [Too aggressive! Doxx her!] Brody lunged in front of me, grabbing my wrist fiercely. “Tatum! Don’t push your luck! If you don’t apologize now, we’re breaking up! And you won’t be walking out of this door alone!” “Break up?” I yanked my hand free. “Brody, you’re jumping the gun. In a minute, I think you’ll be begging me not to leave.” “Are you crazy?” Chase mocked from the side. “Brody beg you? Who do you think you are? The Finishing School’s valedictorian?” The room erupted into another wave of snickers. I ignored the clowns and walked straight up to Piper. “Is this your big play? Live stream, fake tears, and inciting harassment?” I gestured to her phone screen. The viewer count had just crossed 100,000. Piper thought I was terrified. She proudly puffed out her chest. “Scared? Then get on your knees! Just admit you were jealous, admit you’re a fraud, and I’ll tell the family to back off.” “Alright. Since we have such a large audience, let’s get everything straight.” I suddenly turned, facing the live camera. “Good evening, everyone.” My voice was clear and commanding, cutting through the noise in the room. “Regarding this ‘Socialite Coaching class’ that Ms. Connelly mentioned… I did, in fact, attend it.” At that admission, the live stream comments went wild: [She admitted it! Told you she was trash!] [Confirmed! No shame!] Piper was so excited she almost jumped out of Brody’s arms. “Hear that, everyone! She admitted it! These women who literally pay to learn how to manipulate men are a cancer on society!” “However…” I paused, then raised my voice, a sharp change in pitch. “I attended as the Chief Investigative Reporter for Channel 5 News, going undercover for a segment on financial fraud and exploitation.” The VIP room went instantly silent. The triumphant smile hadn’t even had time to leave Piper’s face before it froze in place. “R-re-reporter?” Chase stammered, finally breaking the heavy silence. I didn’t give them a moment to process. My gaze was a surgeon’s scalpel, cutting straight into Piper Connelly. “Piper Connelly, or perhaps I should use your alias from the Institute… ‘Sunny Day’?” Piper’s face went instantly white. She instinctively tried to shut off the live stream. But I was ready. I grabbed her wrist, forcing the phone’s camera to point at both of us. “What’s wrong? You don’t want the ‘family’ to see the real you?” I leaned in close, speaking slowly, deliberately. “If I recall correctly, you were the star pupil who got expelled for stealing a fake designer bag from your roommate—and had to take out thirty thousand in high-interest loans for your plastic surgery. That was you, wasn’t it?”

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