Two months after breaking up with Carter, he brought his new girlfriend to the convenience store where I worked to buy ultra-thin condoms. While browsing, he deliberately asked the girl clinging to his arm: “So many options. Which one do you think feels the best? Give me a recommendation.” The girl blushed, looking at the shelf for a long time, unable to speak. He laughed. “My bad, I almost forgot. When I was with you, I never used them, so you wouldn’t know.” I lowered my head and wiped the counter, saying nothing. The man chuckled lightly, looking at me with a playful, mocking gaze. “Since you work here, why don’t you recommend one?” Chapter 1 I zoned out for a second. After realizing what he was saying, I grabbed a box from the shelf. “This brand has great lubrication, is very friendly for women, and is thin enough that you barely feel it. You can give it a try.” Carter’s smile faded slightly. “You seem very experienced.” I replied flatly, “It’s part of the job.” He pinched the packaging, his tone suggestive. “Is this the one you use with your boyfriend?” The woman beside him burst out laughing. “Look at her clothes. Fast fashion trash. Her whole outfit probably costs less than twenty bucks.” “That brand of rubbers is the most expensive one here. How could she and her broke boyfriend afford it? They probably use the cheap stuff that breaks easily.” Carter stared at my face, seemingly waiting for me to look embarrassed or ashamed. I didn’t give him the satisfaction. I just kept smiling. “Rest assured, sir. I’ve personally quality-checked every brand here. They are all excellent. You can buy with confidence.” Carter’s hand froze, and his face visibly darkened. He scoffed. “Fine. We’ll use your recommendation. If it’s no good, I’m coming back for you.” He bought a box and walked out with the woman on his arm. After that day? Maybe that brand really was that good. For a solid week, he brought his girlfriend to my counter every single day to buy that specific 0.01 ultra-thin box. Even my manager couldn’t help but gossip. “First time I’ve seen something like this. One box a day, and there are five in a pack? That guy has some serious stamina.” “Rich people really know how to play. Must be nice to have that kind of energy.” “By the way, did you see his car? A Rolls-Royce Phantom. There are only a few in the state. That thing costs half a million just to drive off the lot.” “This neighborhood really is full of hidden dragons and tigers.” “His girlfriend is so lucky. Dressed in designer labels from head to toe. One of her accessories is worth half a lifetime of my wages. She’s not nearly as pretty as you, Hailey, but she sure has better luck.” “Speaking of which… she looks familiar.” “I think I saw her in your graduation photos…” I paused, remaining silent. The manager nudged my arm curiously. “Hailey, don’t tell me she was your college classmate?” “How did they get together? She’s one of us, right? Come on, spill the tea.” I didn’t take the bait. I just looked down and said, “There’s no tea to spill.” “Manager, can I take some time off in the next two days for a checkup?” The manager blinked. “Sure, go ahead. Is the baby’s father going with you this time?” I shook my head. “No, I’ll go alone.” The manager sighed. “You go alone every time. Who is this guy anyway? So irresponsible.” I pursed my lips and said nothing. Chapter 2 Actually, the story is pretty cliché. The girl beside Carter was my college roommate, Bianca. Senior year, without my knowledge, she used my photos to catfish Carter online. Everyone knew she had snagged a super-rich boyfriend online. After all, she bragged about it in the dorm every day. She would complain to me, “My boyfriend Venmo’d me money again. It’s so annoying, I haven’t even finished spending the last transfer.” “He’s always like this. People might think I’m a gold digger.” When I ignored her, she’d cover her mouth in mock surprise and lean in. “Oh, I forgot you’re still on financial aid. My boyfriend is rich and spoils me. You’re not jealous, are you?” After starting the online relationship, she replaced everything she owned with designer brands. Any random meal she ate cost nearly a grand. Her online boyfriend seemed to have severe insomnia and was incredibly clingy. Every night, Bianca would put on a fake, baby-doll voice and talk to him until late. I was a light sleeper. I relied on melatonin to get any rest, only to be jolted awake by her sudden laughter. I wanted to tell her to shut up so many times. But I didn’t have living expenses. I had early shifts at my part-time job, and I was exhausted. I didn’t have the energy to argue. My parents were divorced. Both had new families. They stopped caring about me years ago. I paid my own tuition. At night, I was sleep-deprived. In the morning, I had to work. Plus the heavy course load. Sometimes, I was so tired I felt like ending it all. Even though I tried to be quiet in the mornings, Bianca would rip off her covers and scream at me while the other roommates slept. “Getting up before dawn to work? Trying to show off how hardworking you are? Seriously, can you not afford to live?” “If you’re that poor, just drop out. Find an old sugar daddy to take care of you. Is this really necessary?” I was in a rush to get to work and didn’t have time to fight her. I worked at a high-end coffee shop. One day, a handsome guy ordered the most expensive drink on the menu, propped his chin on his hand, and stared at me unblinkingly. He wore a pure black trench coat, his eyes slightly upturned, pupils a beautiful amber color. He looked relaxed and indifferent. He was too striking. He looked better than most celebrities. The moment he walked in, he became the focal point of the cafe. People were secretly taking photos of him. I couldn’t help but steal a few glances too. When I brought him his coffee, he handed me a massive tip, smiled, and said in a lazy voice: “Babe, you’re working so hard.” “Why are you working so early? I transfer you so much money every day, is it not enough? Do you need more?” I froze. “When did you give me money?” He paused too, pulled out his phone, and opened his gallery to show me. It was full of my selfies. “Babe, you have a mole on your earlobe. This is you in the photos, right?” “Why act like strangers after flirting with me all night? You call me ‘Daddy’ every night on the phone.” His smile deepened. “Is this because it’s our first time meeting in person? Are you shy?” I was dumbfounded. “Those are definitely my photos, but… I don’t know who you are.” He was confused too. We put two and two together. We realized Bianca had been using my photos to scam him. When he realized he’d been duped, he was annoyed. But then he extended his hand to me. “Hi, I’m Carter. Would you be willing to try dating me for real?” I hesitated. He smiled charmingly. “Be with me. I can make your life a lot easier.” In that moment, I admit, I was tempted. I was just too tired. Chapter 3 After we got together, Carter was a perfect boyfriend. He recovered all the money Bianca had scammed from him and deposited it into my account. Before graduation, he showered me with gifts and surprises. After graduation, he broke protocol to get me into his company, mentoring me personally on projects. He gave me a resume that most people my age could only dream of. By day, we were boss and subordinate. By night, we were lovers—living together, holding each other. He had incredible stamina, leaving me dazed every time. In those moments, he loved to bite the mole on my earlobe, kiss my eyes, and bury his face in my neck, panting when it was over. Because I had a condition making it hard to conceive, and Carter liked the sensation, he never used protection. In the heat of the moment, he would whisper: “Babe, give me a child, okay? I only want one with you.” “Your kid would definitely be as obedient as you.” I held him, believing it was true. I thought we would be like this forever. Until that day. I found out he had a fiancée. I went to the hospital for a checkup and unexpectedly found out I was pregnant. Panicked but happy, I rushed to Carter’s office with the report. My hand just touched the doorknob. I heard voices inside. “So, you haven’t told Hailey about your fiancée?” I froze. I pressed my ear gently against the door. I heard Carter speak calmly: “I don’t like my fiancée anyway. Besides, it’s just a business marriage arranged by the elders.” His friend asked, “Haven’t you thought about fighting it?” Carter laughed, his tone careless. “Is it necessary?” “Marrying within your social class is the natural order of things. You don’t actually think I’d end up with a charity case like Hailey, do you? It’s just for fun.” “Besides, I don’t want to settle down yet.” “I have an agreement with my fiancée. Before the wedding, we play our own games. As long as no kids are involved, anything goes.” “Hailey is obedient. She’s sensible, and she makes me feel bad for her. I don’t mind keeping the act going.” His friend joked, “You used to change girlfriends every week. This is the first time I’ve seen you take a relationship so seriously. I thought you’d changed.” “But I get it. Hailey has that innocent look. If it were me, I’d want to keep her around and pamper her too.” “But with how wild you guys are, aren’t you afraid of getting her pregnant?” Carter laughed. “What’s there to be afraid of? If she gets pregnant, I’ll just pay for the abortion and give her some cash to break up.” “Poor people like that are easy to deal with. They’re shortsighted. Throw some money at them and they won’t cause trouble.” In that moment, a buzzing noise filled my head. I almost fell over. I looked down at the pregnancy report in my hand. It felt like someone had slapped me across the face. My cheeks burned. My hand on the doorknob slowly dropped. That night, I didn’t go home. I hid in a hotel and cried alone for a long time. I realized I must have hopelessly fallen in love with him. Otherwise, why would it hurt this much? I loved him, but I hated him too. I thought, why? Why does he hold all the power in this relationship? Why can he pick me up and put me down so easily? Why can he do this, but I can’t? Instead of waiting for Carter to dump me, I decided to dump him. I would end this. So, I staged a cheating scene. When Carter found me at the hotel, I was in a bathrobe, kissing another man. The man was an actor I hired. Lingerie was scattered on the floor, along with torn stockings. The bedsheets were messy, deliberately staged to look explicit. Carter stood at the door, the air around him terrifyingly cold. He gave a smile that looked extremely dangerous. “Explain?” The man I was kissing spoke up first. “Mr. Sterling, we are true love. Just let her go.” “I swear I’ll treat her well.” Carter didn’t even look at him. His peripheral vision swept over the man with undisguised contempt and disgust. “Get out. A piece of trash like you doesn’t get to speak here.” The man’s face turned red. He opened his mouth but didn’t dare argue. I was silent for a moment, then spoke slowly: “It’s what you see. I don’t like you anymore.” “I’ve already submitted my resignation to the company. The money you gave me is all in the account. I haven’t touched a cent.” “Carter, let’s break up.” That night, Carter stood on the balcony and smoked a whole pack of cigarettes. When he left, he said coldly, “As you wish.” After that, I blocked and deleted Carter on everything. After the breakup, I originally wanted to terminate the pregnancy. But the doctor told me my constitution made it hard to conceive. If I terminated it, I might never get pregnant again. She advised me repeatedly to think it over and not be impulsive. I was conflicted. I couldn’t decide. By sheer accident of indecision, the child stayed. Chapter 4 A week later. Carter came to the convenience store alone. I thought he was buying condoms again, so I habitually reached for his usual brand. He didn’t take it. He just looked at me. “Hailey, can we talk?” We went to a nearby five-star restaurant. Carter ordered spicy wings, which I used to love. I said, “I don’t eat spicy food anymore.” Carter smiled. “You used to be addicted to spice. Why the change?” “Accommodating your new boyfriend?” I lowered my eyes and said flatly, “My stomach hasn’t been feeling well lately.” He didn’t comment, just ordered lighter dishes. After the food arrived, Carter asked me: “Do you regret breaking up with me?” “You never lived this kind of hard life when you were with me.” “Is he treating you badly?” I didn’t speak. He smiled. “OK, I get it.” “I was your first love. You were practically a kid when you got with me. No experience, naive. It’s normal not to know when you have it good.” “So some guy whispers sweet nothings and you get tricked away.” “But life isn’t a fairy tale.” “You see it now. Look at how you’re living without me.” “Up at six, home at ten. Two hours of commuting. Crowded subways. Standing all day. Menial work.” “Your roommate is my mistress now, and she’s living great. Fifty thousand a month in allowance. I gave you even more than that.” “That life should belong to you.” “This is the last chance, Hailey. Do you want to get back together?” I was silent. After a long time, I looked up. “Carter, I’m not like you. I take feelings seriously.” Carter sneered. “Oh really? Can’t tell. You like that guy that much?” Just then, I accidentally bit into a piece of fatty meat. The greasy taste hit my throat, making me want to vomit. I covered my mouth, nausea rising. Seeing this, Carter poured me water slowly, half-joking. “Why such a big reaction? Is it morning sickness?” My fingers tightened around the glass. He leaned in. “Looking closely, your belly seems a bit bigger than before.” “Hailey, I never used protection. You didn’t get pregnant behind my back, did you?” In that instant, my body froze. My temples throbbed. But I calmed down quickly. I drank the water slowly. “No.” He stared at me, his eyes unreadable. “Really?” I took a deep breath. “Carter, you’re too full of yourself.” “Besides, even if I were, there is no way I would keep your child.” Carter froze. His face turned ugly instantly. He gritted his teeth. “Fine. You’ve got guts.” “Then let me tell you. Your face is indeed my type. I did fall in love with your photos at first sight.” “But the person who chatted with me was Bianca. The one who kept me company through countless sleepless nights was Bianca.” “The one I really like, truthfully, is her.” With that, he walked away cold-faced. That day, he didn’t buy condoms at the store. I sighed in relief. But around 10 PM, just as I was about to get off work. The manager called me. She said Carter ordered delivery service and requested I personally bring his usual ultra-thins to his door. I hesitated for a long time. “Do I have to go?” The manager was put in a tough spot. “There’s no one else available right now.” I closed my eyes and agreed. I found Carter’s house. When the door opened, I saw Bianca in skimpy lingerie. She wasn’t wearing slippers, barefoot. Seeing the bag in my hand, she laughed. “Carter, if you forgot to buy them, you forgot. Why make her deliver them? You probably knew she had the day off tomorrow. You’re so bad.” Carter leaned against the living room door, smiling wickedly at me, but speaking to her: “How many times have I told you? Don’t run around barefoot.” Bianca whined, “Then put them on for me.” Carter laughed. He carried her to the sofa, knelt down, held her white foot in his large palm, and put socks on for her. I caught a glimpse. Under Bianca’s skirt… she wasn’t wearing anything. I looked away. After putting on the socks, Carter said to her: “Go shower. Clean up and wait for me.” Bianca stuck out her tongue playfully. “Fine, okay.” She turned to go shower. I handed the bag to Carter and turned to leave. Carter grabbed my hand first. “Unblock my number.” I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Are you sick?” “Carter, we broke up.” He smiled, but his eyes were cold. “Hailey, this isn’t a negotiation.” “You know me. If you don’t listen, I have plenty of ways to ruin you.” I pursed my lips. I knew. He had the power. Eventually, I compromised. I took out my phone and was forced to add him back. He saved my number with satisfaction. “If you have any trouble in the future, call me anytime.” I looked at the joy he couldn’t hide between his brows. I didn’t understand. What is this? A slap in the face followed by a piece of candy? When I went home, it was late. This was a villa district, quiet amidst the city noise. There were no pedestrians on the street, only dim streetlights stretching my shadow long and thin. I walked fast, but my heart pounded. I felt a sticky gaze glued to my back. Was I being followed? Was it an illusion? At the intersection, I stopped and looked back abruptly. In the shadows of the alley stood a middle-aged man with a sleazy face. He was a customer who came to the store often recently, staring at my chest every time he paid. He grinned at me, his eyes scanning my legs. “Little sister, walking alone so late? Are you lonely? Come to my place?” My heart contracted. I ran. I lost a high heel. My ankle hit the stone curb, hurting excruciatingly, but I didn’t dare stop. In desperation, I fumbled for my phone and helplessly dialed Carter’s private number over and over. But it wouldn’t connect. On the fifth try, he finally picked up. I was almost crying. “Carter, someone is following…” Laughter came from the other end. “Hailey, you’re doing this on purpose, right? Calling right when I’m taking care of business.” “Trying to add some spice to my night?” “Sorry, I’m busy right now.” Before I could finish, he hung up. In that moment, my blood ran cold. And in that moment, I made up my mind. I was getting an abortion.

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It wasn’t until three years after I died that my parents finally came to my boarding school to visit me. And only because my sister’s kidney disease had worsened, and she urgently needed a transplant. Clutching the donation agreement, they searched everywhere but couldn’t find a trace of me. When they asked my teacher about my whereabouts, he let out a cold laugh. “That neglected orphan? She had stage-four stomach cancer. She was rushed to the hospital right after she enrolled. Resuscitation failed. She’s been dead for a long time.” My parents, however, were convinced I was conspiring with the teacher to lie to them. My dad was furious: “That wretched girl isn’t studying; she must have run off to party and sleep around!” “Please pass this message to her: if she doesn’t show her face within three days, we are disowning her. We won’t send her a single cent for living expenses ever again!” The teachers looked at each other in confusion, asking: “What living expenses? There hasn’t been a penny in her account since the day she arrived.” 1. “Where did she run off to? Not even in school during class hours!” My parents kicked the dorm room door open with zero patience. The room was empty. In the corner, the bed with my name tag on it was covered in a thick layer of dust, choking the air and making them cough. They hurriedly shielded my sister, Hailey, behind them. “Don’t go in there, Hailey. Don’t let that jinx’s filth affect you.” The commotion was so loud that the house mother, Mrs. Higgins, stormed up the stairs, hands on her hips. “You people have the wrong room! The only person assigned to this dorm was an orphan with no parents.” My mom raised an eyebrow, letting out a sharp, cold scoff. Her words dripped with acid: “Pathological liar. She’s probably out messing around with some wild boyfriend, isn’t she? Doesn’t even come back to the dorm.” My dad chimed in, “She’s a disgrace to the family. If Hailey wasn’t sick, I wouldn’t even bother looking for her! She’s humiliated us enough.” Mrs. Higgins stood frozen for a long time before she spoke. “She wasn’t messing around. When she enrolled, she was already in the late stages of cancer. She had no money for treatment. She passed away three years ago.” The three of them looked stunned for a split second before erupting into mocking laughter. “Don’t joke around. She was as strong as an ox. How could she have stomach cancer?” “How much did Winter pay you to lie like this?!” With that, Dad shoved a few crisp bills into Mrs. Higgins’ hand. His face was twisted with impatience. “I don’t care where she’s hiding. Please tell her that if she doesn’t show up within three days, we are cutting ties. She won’t get another dime from us!” Mrs. Higgins fingered the brand-new banknotes, looking up suspiciously to scan my parents’ attire. Designer suits, luxury jewelry, expensive watches. “Such rich relatives,” she shook her head with pity. “If only you had come three years ago.” “That little girl never spent a dime because she didn’t have one! She couldn’t even afford the cheapest painkillers. In the end, she died screaming for her mom and dad, literally tortured to death by the pain.” 2. She wasn’t wrong. Before I died, I was consumed by despair and agony. I ended up becoming a wandering spirit, tethered to this world. My parents dismissed Mrs. Higgins’ words entirely. They quickly drove Hailey back to the hospital, exhausting their connections to find a kidney source just to extend her life. If they had spared even a fraction of that energy on me, they could have easily found my death certificate online. But they didn’t. Wasting half a day to look for their “ungrateful” daughter was already the biggest sacrifice they were willing to make. Hailey was the pearl in their palm, spoiled and adored. I was the unwelcome second child, the “accident” that cost them opportunities, the jinx of the family. So, I accepted the favoritism. Three years ago, I got into a prestigious private high school on a full academic scholarship. For a moment, my parents actually paid attention to me. But my joy didn’t last long. Hailey had an accident. She fell down the stairs at my birthday party, breaking both legs. “Winter pushed me!” She buried her face in Mom’s chest, sobbing softly, but I saw the flash of cunning in her eyes. She had jumped down herself! No one listened to my defense. My parents were furious. They immediately canceled my enrollment at the elite school. I was dumped into a cheap, remote boarding school. Hailey was hurt “badly,” so they stayed by her side 24/7. I had to go handle my own enrollment alone. When filling out the forms, the admissions teacher called my parents countless times. No answer. It wasn’t until half a day later that Mom finally picked up, impatient. “My daughter needs rest after surgery. Stop harassing us!” “I only have one daughter, Hailey. I don’t know anyone named Winter!” Click. She hung up. The teachers looked at me with pity and marked “Orphan” on my file. I wiped my tears and tried to pay the tuition with the debit card they gave me. But the cold electronic voice announced: “Insufficient funds.” No money, no love. I forced myself to work odd jobs everywhere just to cover tuition, but my body, ruined by years of irregular eating, finally broke down. Stage four stomach cancer. I needed a huge sum for treatment. But I couldn’t get through to my parents’ phones. The teachers assumed I was truly an orphan. After a small fundraising effort, even they were out of options. Alone, curled up in the corner of a hospital ward, the pain made my bones shake. I still held onto hope. Mom and Dad will come. I can still be saved. In the endless waiting, the pain eroded my nerves, and death quietly arrived. 3. I had been squeezed into a crowded ward, ignored by everyone. Hailey, however, enjoyed a VIP suite with doctors regularly checking in on her. “Winter still hasn’t forgiven me,” she whispered. Her eyes were red, her voice trembling with grievance. “It’s my fault for making her jealous… I don’t blame her for pushing me down the stairs three years ago…” Dad’s heart broke for her. He gently wiped her tear-free face and said: “She bullied you like that, and you’re still defending her? You’re too kind for your own good!” “Don’t worry, Hailey. Mom and Dad will find that wretched girl and make her donate her kidney.” After soothing Hailey, Dad walked out of the room. His eyes turned cold as he pressed the call button hard. The screen lit up with “Winter”—my name. The mechanical ringtone echoed through the empty hallway. I was dead. Who was going to answer the phone? 4. The three-day deadline passed. Naturally, they couldn’t find me. Furious, they stormed back to the school. “You call yourselves educators, yet you help a student scam her parents?!” Mom scolded every teacher she saw, stomping her foot in anxiety. “My daughter’s kidney disease is worsening, she can’t wait any longer! How much did Winter pay you? I’ll pay double! No, ten times!” The teachers were exasperated, explaining until their mouths were dry. Finally, someone slammed their hand on the desk. It was my homeroom teacher, Mr. Lewis. He had always sympathized with me. When I fell ill, he took care of me the most. Seeing my parents acting so arrogantly, Mr. Lewis couldn’t hold back his anger. “Our school might not be elite, but we don’t joke about life and death!” “You abandoned the child here without a care, and now you want to make a scene?!” “Get out and go to the hospital to check her medical records!” I always had stomach issues. The records clearly documented every step from ulcer to cancer. I had once timidly handed those records to my parents, hoping they would take me to a big hospital for a checkup. Instead, they “discovered” that the painkillers I was taking were just vitamins! Hailey had tugged at Dad’s shirt, acting cute: “Winter just wants attention. That’s why she’s taking vitamins and pretending to be sick.” They hugged Hailey and tore up my medical records without a second glance, throwing the pieces in my face. “Learning to lie at such a young age? If you try to scam us with fake reports again, we’ll disown you for real!” But my pale face from the pain, the blood in my vomit… None of that was fake. They just chose not to see it. After that day, I never mentioned my stomach pain again. Until it was too late.

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My childhood sweetheart, the heir to a dynasty, fell in love with a delicate “white lotus” from the wrong side of the tracks. To marry her, he withstood the pressure of his entire family and publicly broke our engagement. Heartbroken, I left the country to pursue my art in Paris. When I returned, he and Lily had been married for nearly two years. I had long since moved on. But at my welcome-home party, Caleb Montgomery—the man who once fought the world for her—looked at the woman he had tried so hard to marry with cold, undisguised disgust. “Didn’t I tell you to stay home?” he hissed, his voice dripping with ice. “Why did you come out here just to embarrass me?” 1 When I returned to the States, my friends threw a lavish welcome-home party for me at an exclusive rooftop lounge in Manhattan. I didn’t expect Caleb Montgomery to be there. Seven years ago, for the sake of Lily Evans, he insisted on breaking his engagement with me—his social equal and childhood friend. He stood before our elders and declared that he would rather marry a stray dog than marry me. It was a humiliation that disregarded generations of friendship between our families. That day, exhausted and broken, I cried for an hour in front of my parents, begging them to agree to the annulment. I told them I didn’t want Caleb anymore. My parents, heartbroken for me, finally relented. They went to Caleb’s parents and spoke behind closed doors for hours. The result: It wasn’t Caleb rejecting me; it was the Sterling family refusing to give their daughter away. Although our families didn’t become sworn enemies, the relationship turned frosty. I left for Paris to study art and hadn’t looked back. Until today. I looked at Caleb. Compared to seven years ago, he was taller, more composed, and radiated the cold arrogance of old money. His dark eyes were fixed on me. I turned to Chloe, the host. Chloe immediately threw her hands up. “Don’t look at me, Victoria. I didn’t invite him. Caleb heard you were coming back and insisted on arranging this party in my place.” She added, guilty and hushed, “It wasn’t up to me.” I didn’t say anything. Instead, I smiled at Caleb, gentle and polite, just as I used to be before everything fell apart. “Victoria,” he said, his voice smooth. “It’s been years. I was young and reckless back then. I hurt you. Today, I wanted to apologize properly.” He paused, looking deep into my eyes. “Do you still hold a grudge?” If I said yes, it would look like I hadn’t moved on. So, I gave him a dazzling, practiced smile. “You said it yourself, Caleb. It’s all in the past.” We were in the same social circle, after all. He was insignificant to me now. I raised my champagne glass. “Chloe told me you and Lily got married over a year ago. I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you. Cheers.” His expression remained flat. Theoretically, having married the girl of his dreams, he should have been beaming. Instead, he downed his drink like a shot of medicine. It looked less like a celebration and more like drowning sorrows. I couldn’t be bothered to analyze it. Old friends surrounded me, asking about my life in France, my boyfriends, and my global art exhibitions. “Seriously, Vic,” one friend teased. “Why do you have to be so perfect? Your gallery openings are invite-only, and my dad keeps asking why I can’t be more like you instead of just buying Birkins and chasing rock stars.” I laughed. “It’s just a hobby.” “You’ve learned to be humble,” Caleb interjected from the side. His tone was natural, intimate, as if he hadn’t crushed my heart seven years ago. I sensed a hint of… flirtation? “I went to see your exhibition, Dreams of a Past Life,” he continued. “It was magnificent.” The air in the room shifted. My friends went silent, their eyes darting between us. I kept my composure. “Oh, thank you.” I paused, then added playfully, “Did you go with Lily? I haven’t seen her in years. We were classmates, after all.” His face darkened instantly. “She had things to do at home.” He spoke of her as if she were a stranger. When the party ended, we walked out to the lobby and saw Lily sitting on a velvet sofa near the VIP elevators. She was staring anxiously at the elevator doors. When they opened, she shot up. She had been waiting there the whole time. Everyone froze. Lily forced a smile, her eyes scanning the group until they landed on me standing next to Caleb. Her face drained of color. She looked terrified, as if facing a formidable enemy. I felt nothing but confusion. 2 Lily had changed. I remembered the first time I saw her. She had transferred to our prep school in the second semester of freshman year. She stood at the podium in an ill-fitting uniform, looking malnourished and terrified. Her features were plain, her demeanor shrinking. The teacher had smiled and said, “This is Lily Evans, a scholarship student with excellent grades. Please welcome her.” The applause was sparse. In our world, grades weren’t the only currency. I had pitied her then. I was the first to clap, leading the rest of the class to follow suit. “This is our class president, Victoria Sterling,” the teacher said, pointing to me. “If you need anything, ask her.” Lily never asked me for help. Because she had Caleb. There were no empty seats except next to Caleb, so she became his desk mate. I don’t know when their betrayal started. Maybe it was when she fainted from anemia during assembly, and Caleb carried her to the nurse. Maybe it was when Caleb’s mom brought back expensive chocolates from Belgium for us. I told him to pick first, and he took a box of artisanal truffles, saying, “I want this one.” Caleb hated sweets. Later, I saw the wrappers on Lily’s desk. I convinced myself he was just being charitable. I was the school beauty, the heiress, the girl who had everything. It never crossed my mind that Caleb would betray me for someone so… plain. Seven years later, Lily was no longer that skinny girl. She was draped in couture—Chanel, Dior—but the logos looked loud and awkward on her, as if the clothes were wearing her. “Victoria,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’re back.” She looked between Caleb and me with obvious suspicion. Caleb spoke first, his voice icy. “Why are you here?” Lily flinched. She offered a pitiful, fawning smile. “I was shopping nearby… The club manager said you were hosting a party for Victoria, so I… I thought I’d wait so we could go home together.” It was a clumsy lie. She held up a shopping bag. “The manager heard I was here and gave me two bottles of vintage red wine. He said it was a gift for Mrs. Montgomery and Mr. Montgomery.” She emphasized “Mrs. Montgomery” as if marking her territory. Caleb frowned, looking physically repulsed. Behind me, someone snickered. For a family of Caleb’s stature, a club manager gifting wine wasn’t an honor; it was an expectation. For his wife to hold it up like a treasure was embarrassing. It showed she didn’t understand her own status. “Didn’t I tell you to stay home?” Caleb snapped, not caring about the audience. “Why did you come out here just to embarrass me?” Lily turned pale, looking helpless. No one stepped in to explain why she was being laughed at. I glanced at Caleb. He was cold, indifferent to the mockery his wife was enduring. It shocked me. Back in high school, when people isolated Lily, or when I eventually lashed out at her, Caleb had always stood in front of her like a shield. Now, he looked at her with deep-seated exhaustion and annoyance. How could he despise her now? Had he forgotten how he hurt me to protect her? 3 The first time Caleb stood up for Lily was during English Literature. For most of us, English lit was a breeze. We’d had private tutors since we were toddlers. The teacher asked Lily to read a passage from Harry Potter. As soon as she started, the snickering began. Her accent was thick, her pronunciation broken. The laughter grew until Lily stood there in silence, trembling. After class, Chloe walked up to Lily and loudly mocked her pronunciation, mimicking her stumbling words. Lily sat with her head down, shoulders shaking. I wanted to tell Chloe to cut it out. But before I could speak, Caleb, who usually slept through breaks, slammed his thick hardcover book onto his desk. Thud. “Shut up,” he said, staring coldly at Chloe. “You’re too loud.” The room went dead silent. I smiled to break the tension. “Chloe, class is starting.” Chloe rolled her eyes but sat down. I saw Lily turn to Caleb, her eyes shining with gratitude. Caleb didn’t even look at her. Later, I saw them in the library. Caleb walked over to Lily’s secluded corner with his original copy of Harry Potter. “Practicing like that is useless,” he said. He sat next to her, pointing at a line. “Read this.” “Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep…” she stammered. Caleb patiently corrected her diction on the word “drifting.” The sunlight hit them through the tall windows. They looked like a scene from a movie. Until Lily looked at him, blushing, and whispered, “I really envy Victoria.” Envy me for what? It was obvious. That was when I started to dislike Lily Evans. 4 I never bullied people. I was the “Queen Bee,” sure, but I didn’t do mean girl tactics. Until gym class. Tennis. As expected, no one partnered with Lily. She stood on the court, clutching her racket, looking pathetic. I smiled, walked over, and extended my hand. “Let’s be partners.” She looked shocked. “Me?” “Yes, you.” I wiped the smile off my face as soon as I turned around. I ran her ragged. I hit the ball to every corner of the court where she wasn’t. She scrambled, missed, and spent the whole time picking up balls, apologizing profusely. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m too bad at this.” She didn’t realize I was doing it on purpose until a crowd gathered. “What’s up with Victoria?” someone whispered. “She never plays like this.” I kept smiling, my shots getting more aggressive, until Lily tripped and fell, scraping her knees. “Oops,” I said, standing still. “My bad. You really are terrible at this. Next time we play doubles, don’t drag me down.” Lily sat on the ground, weeping silently. Caleb walked onto the court. He looked at me, took the racket from a crying Lily, and stared me down. He smiled, a cold, dangerous smile. “She’s no good, Victoria. I’ll practice with you.” Caleb destroyed me. To make it “fair,” he played with his left hand. He was a junior champion; I was a hobbyist. I ran until my lungs burned. I didn’t have to pick up balls because the boys who had crushes on me did it, but Caleb showed no mercy. On the final point, he smashed the ball. It grazed the net and slammed right into my knee—the exact same spot where Lily had fallen. The pain was blinding. I nearly collapsed. Caleb didn’t flinch. “Victoria,” he said coldly. “Even without someone dragging you down, you still can’t win.” He turned to Lily, helping her up gently. “Come on. Let’s go.” Lily looked at him like he was a god. Later, while the nurse iced my knee, Chloe asked, “Is Caleb insane?” He was. And now, ironically, he regretted it. It was laughable.

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At 2 AM, my sugar daddy called and told me to deliver a box of ultra-thin condoms. Staring at my rain-soaked clothes, his voice was husky. “Damn, who told you to be this obedient?” I handed the bag to Silas Vance, who was leaning against the doorframe. “Here’s your 0.01.” As he took it, he deliberately rubbed his calloused thumb over my knuckles, his eyes brimming with a seductive smile. “She’s not here yet. Why don’t we use one first?” While I froze, he chuckled. “Just kidding.” “I arranged a blind date for you next Wednesday. You’ve been with me for so many years; I don’t want to shortchange you.” “You’ll go, right?” Chapter 1 Silas used a negotiating tone, but his eyes held a careless oppression. He didn’t want to shortchange me? Hardly. He was clearly afraid his “white moonlight”—his first love—would find out about our relationship when she returned, so he wanted to dispose of me beforehand. My curled fingers tightened abruptly. I forced a calm face and looked up. “Just send me the address.” Noticing the formal “you” in my tone, he frowned slightly, but only for a second. Rainwater dripped from my hair onto my collarbone, making me shiver from the cold. I stammered, “It’s late. I should go.” “Wait.” Silas walked into the living room and returned with a Burberry shawl in his hand. He wrapped me up tightly, leaving only my misty eyes exposed. In my panic, I looked up to thank him, only to crash into his suddenly darkened gaze. His fingers lingered on the collar of the shawl. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he suddenly spoke: “Don’t go tonight?” I froze, blurting out subconsciously, “Isn’t someone else coming…” He cut me off before I could finish, his knuckles pressing against the top of my head, his tone wrapped in impatient heat: “You actually believe that shit?” “In your heart, am I just a promiscuous scumbag?” “All these years, besides you, who else has been by my side?” Silas carried me to the bed. In the heat of passion, he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “This is our last time.” “Claire is coming back.” “I don’t want her to suspect our relationship, so be a good girl and go on that blind date.” He finally told the truth. I bit his shoulder hard in resentment. Chapter 2 Silas’s stamina was simply heaven-defying. The saying that men past twenty-five are basically sixty simply didn’t apply to him. It wasn’t until the morning mist seeping through the curtains turned white that he finally ended the battle and walked to the bathroom. When the sound of splashing water started, I picked up my clothes from the floor and went to the guest bedroom. This was our tacit habit. Silas was a light sleeper and didn’t like anyone beside him. So, for five years, no matter how tired or sleepy I was after his tossing, I would force myself to use my last bit of strength to crawl to the guest room. The next day, I woke up past nine. After washing up and rushing downstairs, I saw Silas just returning from his workout. He wore a white tank top, the muscle lines of his shoulders and back smooth and powerful. “I asked Mrs. Higgins to leave you breakfast.” I waved my hand quickly. “I’m going to be late for work. I have to catch the subway.” Silas raised an eyebrow slightly. “I can drive you, can’t I?” Putting on my shoes at the entryway, I blurted out subconsciously. “No need.” “The results of my promotion are coming out today. If my colleagues see me getting out of the boss’s car, I won’t be able to explain it even with ten mouths.” Silas paused in unscrewing his water bottle cap. The air suddenly went silent for a moment. A while later, he scoffed lightly. “Suit yourself.” Before leaving, Silas called me and handed me a business card. “Your blind date for next week.” A buzz seemed to ring in my ears, dragging me back to reality. A night of intimacy almost made me forget. The reason I agreed to deliver the condoms last night was to propose ending this improper five-year relationship. I was afraid he would think I was still clinging to him. I reached out and took the card. The sharp edges of the plastic card dug painfully into the web of my thumb. My nose felt a bit stuffy. I gave a low hum. “I’ll go.” Chapter 3 Over the years, I would stay at Silas’s house every weekend. At first, I always carried big and small bags filled with clothes and bottles of skincare products. He thought it was too troublesome for me to move back and forth like that, so later he simply had someone build a vanity for me to store my things. When leaving that day, I took all those things with me. Including the pink slippers I often wore at the entryway, and the pajamas in the closet. While I did all this, Silas just leaned quietly against the door frame watching me, the emotions in his eyes obscure. Until I finished packing and said goodbye to him. “From now on, we are just a simple boss and subordinate relationship.” Seeing through my worries, Silas sneered lightly. “Relax, I won’t make things hard for you at work.” Chapter 5 Running all the way, I finally made it to my desk before ten. My colleague Bella generously treated me to a coffee for once. “Wendy, congratulations in advance. When you become the department director, don’t forget our revolutionary friendship.” I smiled shyly. “The results aren’t out yet.” She scoffed. “Why are you being humble? Among the colleagues competing with you, you have the longest tenure and have completed the most major projects.” “Besides, everyone sees how hard you’ve worked for the company all these years.” “You becoming the director is what everyone expects.” I stopped being polite and smiled at the whole team. “If I succeed, I’ll treat everyone to the most expensive Japanese restaurant in Manhattan!” Cheers erupted in the office. Three minutes to ten. During this time, I clicked open the company email countless times. I even ran to the bathroom three times out of nervousness. Until the email opened, and that line of bold black text jumped out. “We regret to inform you that your promotion was unsuccessful…” Boom. My mind went blank. Team members scrambled to gather around. After seeing the result on the screen, the originally lively office instantly fell silent enough to hear a pin drop. It wasn’t until the HR director smiled and led someone in that the dead silence was broken. “Let me introduce everyone. This is Claire Lin, a master’s graduate from overseas, and the Planning Department Director personally appointed by Mr. Vance.” The moment I looked up, my breath hitched violently— The girl wore a sharply tailored white suit, her long hair loosely tied behind her head, her exposed neck slender and white. She looked exactly like the person in the photo I once saw in the hidden compartment of Silas’s wallet. Chapter 6 It was like catching a severe flu; my nose was stuffed, my mind blank. I was mechanically pushed forward by a heavy force. The road to Silas’s office wasn’t long, but I had to keep wiping tears with the back of my hand. Many people passing by looked at me, but I couldn’t care less about losing face. I knocked on the office door, and Silas’s consistently cold voice came out. “Enter.” I stood there with red eyes. As soon as I made a sound, tears fell. “Why?” He didn’t even look up, his fingertips still scrolling on a document. “Why what?” I raised my volume, my voice filled with uncontrollable grievance. “There are so many positions in the company, why did you have to let Claire occupy my promotion spot?” Silas finally looked up from the pile of documents, his tone as flat as if he were talking about something insignificant. “She wanted to go to the Planning Department.” “Just because she said she wanted to, you can easily strip away my five years of hard work?” He didn’t know. To ensure a smooth promotion, I took the assignment to Africa that no one else wanted. I even caught malaria there and almost never came back. Silas stood up, walked in front of me, and looked down at me from above, his eyes cold without a trace of warmth. “Wendy, this is reality.” “Because I sit in this seat, I can decide everything.” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “I just want fairness. Is that hard?” As if I poked his funny bone, Silas chuckled low. “Fairness?” “You’re talking to me about fairness?” “Wendy, get this straight first,” he leaned in a step closer, the chill in his breath almost sticking to my face, “if you hadn’t slept with me.” “With your average state college qualifications, you wouldn’t even pass the initial resume screening for Hua Mian.” “Why don’t you go ask those Ivy League graduates who interviewed in the same batch as you back then if they wanted fairness?” “You enjoyed the convenience power gave you without a word, and now you come to talk to me about fairness?” Silas’s words slapped my face like a burning palm. Burning my cheeks hot, making even breathing painful. I suddenly understood. Even though I worked hard for five years, striving to prove myself, never thinking of using my relationship with Silas to enjoy any convenience in my career. But I couldn’t change the fact that I relied on him to get into Hua Mian in the beginning. I indeed had no right to talk about fairness. So, I was ready to resign. Chapter 7 Speaking of which, my first meeting with Silas was indeed very cliché. That year after graduating from college, I arrived in New York only to experience being cheated on by my ex-boyfriend, who seamlessly moved on to someone else. Under immense survival and mental pressure, I chose to go to a bar with my best friend to get drunk. It was the first time in my life I drank so much alcohol. Drank until I lost consciousness. Usually, I wouldn’t dare say an extra word to strangers, but I was bold enough to hit on a handsome guy at the bar. That handsome guy was Silas. That day, he sat alone at the bar, his temperament cold and outstanding. Handsome like a damn male star on a fashion magazine cover. Watching him coldly reject the eighth woman who came to hit on him. I sat over like I was possessed, opening with a brainless line, “Are you coming home with me?” The man lowered his head to sip his drink, laughter spilling from his throat. “Never seen anyone as bold as you.” That night in my narrow rental apartment, we had our first passionate night. Before that, I had never had such an extreme experience. It could simply be called addictive. After that night, I thought we wouldn’t cross paths again. Chapter 8 Until the next day, when I took my resume to interview at Hua Mian, I looked up and saw the man in the suit sitting in the main seat. In that instant, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. After recognizing Silas, I feigned calm and finished my self-introduction. After the interview, he stood up and said a word to the HR managers before leaving. Later, my email received an offer from Hua Mian. The day I joined, the company held a welcome party, and Silas gave a speech on stage as a senior executive. After the party, he cornered me in the elevator lobby. “You’re Wendy, right?” “Can you accept a relationship of only sex and no dating?” I was never an open person; you could even say I was conservative. But that day in his deep gaze, my mouth made the decision before my brain. “I… accept.” The moment I heard my own voice. I knew, I was done for. I had hopelessly fallen in love. Since then, our relationship was like being split in half. During the day, we were clearly separated as boss and subordinate; at night, we shed all identities and became the most compatible partners physically. After every intimacy, Silas would always give me a generous sum of money, as well as countless designer bags and jewelry. Of course, what he brought me was far more than this— Under his personal guidance, I went from a workplace rookie who couldn’t even read a spreadsheet to eventually making a mark in the company. Every step of my growth was soaked with his traces. Gradually, I developed hopes I shouldn’t have. Fantasizing that maybe one day, the eyes he looked at me with would hold a bit more love. Until today, waking up from the dream. It turns out the ending of a fairy tale isn’t that wearing glass slippers makes you a princess. When kicked out of the game like a fool. I realized I was wrong. It turns out things that don’t belong to me will never belong to me in the end.

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At a party, we played Truth or Dare. I lost. I chose Dare. “Call your ex.” My boyfriend, Carter, had a cigarette dangling from his lips and chuckled, “She doesn’t have an ex. I’m her first love…” “I do.” Carter froze, his smile vanishing. In front of everyone, I dialed that number I knew by heart. Half an hour later. The aloof and legendary Liam Sterling pushed open the door to the private room and beckoned to me. “Wendy, come here.” Chapter 1 Carter took me to a gathering with his friends. After dinner, everyone suggested playing Truth or Dare. Carter lost the first round. He chose Dare. A guy sitting by the door got excited. “Let’s play big. Young Master Carter, call your ex. Dare or not?” The atmosphere instantly ignited. Amidst everyone’s jeering, Carter rubbed my hand. He had a pair of peach blossom eyes that looked affectionate even when looking at a dog. He asked me, “Babe, can I call?” I knew he had an ex-girlfriend. After all, Carter was the campus hunk of A University; his dating history was always under scrutiny. “Sister-in-law, gotta have some game spirit~” Under everyone’s expectant gaze, I smiled and nodded. “It’s fine, go ahead.” “Sister-in-law is generous!” Carter smiled, pinched my cheek, and took out his phone. The call was picked up after three rings. “Bella, I’m drunk. Come pick me up.” Carter gave the address and hung up without waiting for a response. He tossed his phone onto the table casually and went back to playing with my hand. My hands were soft and pale. Carter loved to knead my palms whenever he had nothing to do, playing with them tirelessly. His friend mocked him, “Young Master Carter, you that confident your ex will show up?” He scoffed, his tone full of confidence. “With my understanding of her, she’ll be here in ten minutes.” Then he glanced at me sideways, afraid I might be unhappy, and added, “Babe, don’t be mad. It’s just a game.” Eight minutes. His ex-girlfriend arrived. Red wavy hair. Hot body. A completely different type of woman from me. She opened the door and immediately spotted the conspicuous Carter. Her eyes lit up. When her gaze swept over me beside him, she paused abruptly. There was a hint of coquettish blame in her eyes as she looked at Carter. “Carter, you playing me?” The guy to Carter’s right quickly gave up his seat. “Sister Bella, sit here.” Bella seemed to know everyone present and sat down without hesitation. Carter freed a hand to place a glass of alcohol in front of her. “Knew you love this. Here, saved it for you.” Bella didn’t say much. She downed the glass in one go. “Sister Bella is mighty!” The crowd cheered continuously. Bella poured herself another full glass, turned to look at Carter with a beaming smile. “Carter, shall we go?” Carter’s hand had let go of mine at some point. He clinked glasses with Bella, playing drinking games and rolling dice. It made me, the “good girl,” look out of place. I was severely allergic to alcohol; my juice glass was already empty. Carter was having too much fun. He started putting his arm around shoulders. But not my shoulders. Seemingly blinded by alcohol, he naturally draped his arm around his ex-girlfriend’s shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind, letting him do it. The people around didn’t seem to think anything was wrong either. Until the drinks went round again, and we entered the next round of Truth or Dare. Unfortunately, I lost. Everyone let loose in this round. They jeered at me: “Old rules, call your ex.” Carter was already sitting back beside me, his face flushed with alcohol. Hearing this, he chuckled, “She doesn’t have an ex. I’m her first love.” “Babe, I’m your first man, right?” Although he was asking me, his face held absolute confidence in himself. Because I had always maintained a good girl image in front of everyone. So everyone believed Carter’s words without a doubt. “Then Sister-in-law has to drink these three glasses!” “Sister-in-law is so innocent, Young Master Carter, you’re lucky.” “Drink up! Drink up!” Carter’s eyes crinkled in a smile; he was in a good mood. “I’ll drink this for her…” He started to stand up to take the glass. I suddenly reached out to stop him. Amidst the noise of the crowd, I spoke slowly, “I do.” Carter froze, suspecting he heard wrong. “What did you say, Babe?” The room went silent instantly. I blinked, my tone serious. “Carter, don’t drink yet. I haven’t lost for sure.” Carter’s smile vanished for some reason. Bella burst out laughing. She patted Carter’s shoulder. “Carter, it’s just a game. Have some spirit.” “Besides, I’m quite curious what your little girlfriend’s ex looks like.” Under everyone’s playful and curious gazes. I took out my phone, pulled a number out of the blacklist, and dialed it. The phone rang for quite a while before being picked up. I spoke first: “I drank alcohol. Can you come pick me up? I’m at…” I gave the address. Before he could speak, I hung up first. Carter stared at my dark phone screen and laughed. He patted my head, his face returning to his unruly smile. “Babe, no need to find a random person to bluff. Not having an ex isn’t embarrassing.” “I’ll drink this for you.” Carter looked pleased, picked up the three glasses on the table, and downed them all. Chapter 2 No one took this interlude seriously. Next round, Bella was eager to try. “Bella, I advise you not to play. You’re a black hole for games,” Carter said familiarly. Bella refused to accept it and glared at him. “Watch me win!” Sure enough. Bella lost. “Sister Bella, Truth or Dare?” Bella glanced at Carter and shrugged. “My ex is already here. I choose Truth.” Carter’s friend’s playful gaze circled the three of us. “Then I’ll just ask something random. Sister Bella, do you still like your ex?” This question was anything but random. Bella didn’t speak for several seconds. “I forfeit.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. She poured three full glasses and started drinking. The hand playing with my hair suddenly stopped. From the moment Bella fell silent, Carter’s gaze had been fixed on her. Watching her drink glass after glass. His eyes were dark; no one knew what he was thinking. I pulled my hair out of his hand and handed him my empty cup. “Carter, pour me some water.” Carter snapped back to reality. He grabbed a cold beer nearby and filled my cup. I looked at the cup quickly forming condensation droplets and didn’t make a sound. Carter’s friend tried to break the awkward atmosphere. “Come on, come on, next round…” Just then. The door to the private room was pushed open. Liam Sterling, dressed in business attire, appeared at the door. His cool gaze landed on the beer still emitting cold air in front of me. Liam’s face was stern. Under the surprised or confused gazes of everyone present, he looked at me calmly and beckoned. “Wendy, come here.” Chapter 3 Liam’s arrival shocked everyone. Basically, everyone at A University had heard of his fame. Liam was a legend at A University. Superior background, top-tier IQ and EQ. He founded his own tech company right after graduation. In just two years, the company’s market value broke 100 million. His net worth rose with the tide, becoming a new tech tycoon in the business world. You could say. He was the idol of the junior boys. The ideal partner for the junior girls. Even though he had graduated two years ago, the legends about him in school never faded. Every freshman would be educated by seniors about his legend. There was a topic on the school forum: “Who do you want to date most in school?” Liam’s name still topped the list. Even Carter, known as the campus hunk for his looks, could only settle for second place. But Liam was rarely on campus during his studies, so no one could verify the truth about his love life. Now that he suddenly appeared at the door, no one recovered. Except Carter. Connecting it to the call I just made, he suddenly wrapped his arm around my shoulder possessively. Looking at Liam, he asked coldly, “Who did you say you’re looking for?” Liam’s gaze lingered on my shoulder for a second before returning to my face. “Wendy, come here.” Although there were no actual weapons, the air was filled with tension. I wanted to go back, so I picked up my bag to stand up. But I couldn’t move. Carter wouldn’t let me up. I turned to look at him. “Carter, I want to go back.” Carter’s handsome face radiated a chill. He gritted his teeth and asked me word by word, “Babe, you really have an ex?” I found his anger quite baffling. He has an ex, I have an ex. Isn’t this normal? Who made the rule that he has to be my first love? “Carter, you’re a sore loser.” I swear. My voice was very soft and gentle, just stating a fact plainly. But Carter suddenly acted like a cat stepped on his tail. He pushed me away, looking exasperated. “Yes, I’m a sore loser. Then go! If you leave, don’t come back.” Knowing Carter for six months, dating for three. This was the first time I found Carter so emotionally unstable. His extreme reaction puzzled me. I took a step back and waved at him. “Then I’m leaving. Bye.” Just as I was leaving the room. A crisp sound of a shattering glass came from behind, along with Bella’s scream, “Carter, your hand!” I wanted to look back, but was blocked by Liam’s tall figure. He turned my head forward, his tone flat. “Watch where you’re going.” I followed Liam to his car. Liam opened the back door directly, gesturing for me. “Get in. I’ll drive you back.” I shook my head, taking a step back to maintain a proper distance. “No need, I can take a taxi myself.” “Sorry about just now. I lost a game.” “I couldn’t find anyone to call in a hurry, so…” To avoid misunderstanding, I explained simply. Actually, I lied to Carter. I didn’t have an ex. Liam… I glanced at him. At most, he was a stranger I had a crushed on without fruition. Liam listened, his face still cold. “Get in.” I hesitated. Liam didn’t leave either, quietly waiting for me. His personality had always been decisive. If I didn’t get in, he would stand there waiting forever. So I got in. But as soon as I got in, I realized there was someone in the passenger seat. A young, beautiful girl. Thinking of a certain possibility. My heart constricted, and I suddenly wanted to open the door and get out. But I heard the sound of the locks clicking. Liam was already in the driver’s seat and had locked the back doors. The car slowly merged onto the main road. The woman in the passenger seat suddenly turned and waved at me: “Are you President Sterling’s sister?” Sister? I looked up at the rearview mirror. Meeting Liam’s cool gaze. Sensing he was about to speak, I beat him to it. “Yes, I am.” Liam froze, looking deeply at me through the mirror. “Girls should be careful going out alone at night,” the woman said friendly. I lowered my eyes and nodded subconsciously. Soon, we arrived at the woman’s home. She waved goodbye to Liam and me. “President Sterling, see you tomorrow. Sister, bye-bye.” I forced a stiff smile and responded politely. Only Liam and I were left in the car. The car merged onto the main road again. Silence filled the air tonight. “Are you dating him?” Liam suddenly blurted out an inexplicable sentence. I paused, taking a moment to realize he meant Carter. Speaking of Carter. I suddenly remembered he seemed injured before I left. I wondered if it was serious. Hearing no response for a long time, Liam asked again, “When did you start dating?” “Three months ago,” I whispered, looking out the window. Liam fell into a long silence. I didn’t want to talk much either. So we were silent the whole way. Until we reached the gate of A University. I thanked him and got out. “Wendy.” Liam suddenly called me. I stopped and looked back. Liam’s hands were on the steering wheel, his handsome face hidden in the dim car. He asked me: “Are you serious about him?” “His emotions seem a bit unstable.” His eyes were calm, but held a probing meaning. I suddenly found it funny. I didn’t understand what standing he had to ask me this question. “Yes. Whether before or now, I am very serious.” “He chased me hard for three months. I agreed.” “Unlike someone, whose heart is harder than iron.” Silence. Slam— I closed the car door hard. Chapter 4 Liam moved next door to me when I was in ninth grade. We were neighbors facing each other. He was the boy next door. Very good-looking. Tall and handsome. High IQ. And he didn’t mind that I was dumb. When I came home with failing grades again. My mom sighed, then dragged me by the collar to the Sterling house. She placed me in front of Liam. “Liam, I’m troubling you with this girl of ours.” By then, Liam had already been admitted early to A University. And I was facing the stressful high school entrance exams. Liam’s gaze lightly swept over the test paper in my hand. The bright red “25” fell into his eyes. He frowned. Seeming unable to comprehend how someone could fail such simple math problems. I stared unblinkingly at his handsome face. Forgetting to breathe for a moment. My pale cheeks suddenly turned red. Like a ripe apple. Ninth grade was stressful. The Sterlings had moved here for a while, but this was my first formal meeting with Liam. Before, I always heard my mom talk about how excellent the neighbor’s son was, how good a person he was. Seeing is believing. “Brother Liam, you are really good-looking.” My mouth ran ahead. My brain chased behind. Before I could react, my inner thoughts blurted out. The girl’s directness came suddenly. Liam paused abruptly. His pale pink lips curved into a small arc. I stared blankly, foolishly. For the next two months. He transformed into the cold and ruthless Teacher Liam. Forcing my grades from “bottom tier” to “excellent tier.” My mom was thrilled. Whenever Liam came home for holidays. She dragged me to visit. Sometimes with cookies I baked. Sometimes with cake I made. Sometimes with nothing but a book of wrong answers. Liam was used to it. Seeing the notebook in my hand, he took it and started flipping through. “You can’t do any of these?” Long time no see, my heart jumped for joy. My gaze couldn’t bear to leave him. But on the surface, I nodded seriously. “Yes, Brother Liam, can you teach me?” Liam nodded. Started going through them one by one for me. The incandescent light shone on his clean face, his thin lips opening and closing. I secretly observed him. Half listening, half in a trance. When he finished correcting the errors, he asked me, “Did you understand everything?” My ears turning red, I nodded like a chicken pecking rice. … Just like that, spring went and winter came. I chased his footsteps and got into A University where he was. I always called him Brother this, Brother that. I looked forward to sharing even the tiniest things with him. Sometimes Liam was busy. He would reply briefly late at night. The next day, seeing his reply when I woke up, my mood would be beautiful all day. A girl’s secret crush quietly sprouted and grew into a small tree. One day. I couldn’t hold it back. I confessed to him. Liam’s expression was unexpectedly calm, as if he had predicted it. His eyes looking at me were only slightly warmer than looking at a stray cat on the street. He said: “Wendy, do you know what ‘like’ is at your age?” “Your feelings for me might just be habit. A child’s crush doesn’t count.” “And I believe falling in love isn’t worth my precious time and energy right now.” A few sentences pushed me into the abyss. A crush that ended without starting. Declared over.

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After six years of living with Liam Vance, his “white moonlight”—his first love—returned. That night, Liam smiled and handed me a bank card: “Thank you for taking care of me for six years. The market rate for a live-in housekeeper is about four thousand a month. There’s two hundred eighty-eight thousand dollars in here. I’m settling it all at once.” My gaze fell heavily on the hand holding the card, tracing every knuckle, staring for a long time. Liam finally spoke, impatient: “You said back then that you’d take care of me for a while, and leave when I got better. Now that I’m out of the gloom, you aren’t thinking of going back on your word and clinging to me, are you?” I let out a self-deprecating laugh and reached for the card: “Liam, the money isn’t enough.” Liam seemed not to expect this, stunned for a moment, staring at me blankly. I spoke again: “Four thousand a month. I took care of you for a total of six years, seven months, and eighteen days. I won’t charge you double for weekends or triple for holidays. Just add another thirty-one thousand and four hundred, and we’re good.” 1 Lately, Liam seemed to be in a good mood, and his appetite had improved significantly. Right after work, I rushed to Whole Foods, buying bags of ingredients, ready to show off my culinary skills. Later, after busywork for over four hours, the moment Liam walked through the door, the last dish was placed on the table. He ate the meal I prepared unhurriedly, chewing slowly. Even after six years together, I could still be mesmerized by his appearance. I watched his Adam’s apple bob with every swallow, watched his long, distinct fingers holding the fork. Liam Vance. Even if he did nothing but stand there, he held a fatal temptation for me. “Chloe, this Spicy Chicken is good. How did you make it? Send me the recipe later.” The slightly upturned lilt at the end of his sentence pleased me. We had been together for six years. I took care of every aspect of his daily life meticulously. I put so much effort into daily cooking, yet this was the first time he praised my food. Strange to say, Liam, who usually preferred bland flavors, loved this Spicy Chicken. I had to make it every few days. I found countless recipes online, and this was the best one. I quickly found the recipe and forwarded it to Liam: “You don’t need to learn it yourself if you like it. Just tell me in advance when you want to eat it, and I’ll make it for you.” Yes, my love for Liam was this humble. It had always been this humble. Hearing this, the smile on Liam’s face widened: “Eliza loves Spicy Chicken the most.” Eliza. Hearing this name, my hand holding the fork paused. This was a name Liam would absolutely never mention when he was sober. Only in the deep nights of the first few years, after getting drunk, would Liam murmur hoarsely: “Eliza, what was not good enough about me? Why did you have to choose him?” Every time I heard this, my hand supporting Liam would pause. Even though I had been with him for years, in the deep nights after he got drunk, the name he called was still Eliza. Occasionally, Liam would look at me through hazy eyes, then mutter to himself: “Eliza, even if you don’t want me, someone does. Chloe wants me.” This Liam always made my heart ache endlessly. So, even though he always hid a ‘her’ in his heart, I still stayed by Liam’s side, loving him devotedly. After two years, Liam gradually stopped mentioning Eliza. He started responding to my love, bringing me snacks, and thoughtfully preparing surprises. He would bring friends to celebrate my birthday, and smile in default when friends teased that President Vance had fallen into Chloe’s hands. I thought we had truly become a couple. Until today, when I heard the name Eliza again. I tried to speak: “Why mention Eliza all of a sudden?” 2 “Chloe, Eliza is coming back. When the time comes, I’ll personally make her favorite Spicy Chicken for her. Do you think she’ll be happy?” I finally understood why Liam, who preferred bland food, liked Spicy Chicken. It turned out it was only because Eliza liked it. It turned out Liam’s recent good mood had nothing to do with me; it was only because Eliza was coming back. The first time I received praise from Liam, it was because I made Eliza’s favorite dish taste good. The atmosphere at the dining table became weird. I didn’t say a word, quietly waiting for Liam’s judgment on me. Eliza was coming back soon. Would Liam break up with me? If Liam broke up with me, should I try to keep him? If I wanted to keep him, what should I say to make him change his mind? Countless scenarios swirled in my mind. Until Liam smiled and handed me a bank card: “Thank you for taking care of me for six years. The market rate for a live-in housekeeper is about four thousand a month. There’s two hundred eighty-eight thousand dollars in here. I’m settling it all at once.” Liam’s sentence shattered all my predictions. He didn’t break up with me; he just fired me. It turned out that for these six years, the identity and status he gave me was a housekeeper. My stunned gaze fell heavily on the hand holding the bank card, scanning past every knuckle, looking for a good while, trying to digest every word he said. Even my breathing seemed to stall. Liam finally spoke, impatient: “You said back then that you’d take care of me for a while, and leave when I got better. Now that I’m out of the gloom, you aren’t thinking of going back on your word and clinging to me, are you?” Liam’s tone was teasing, seemingly joking, but his eyes held ample contempt, scrutinizing my overestimation of myself. I finally breathed smoothly, let out a self-deprecating laugh, and reached for the bank card: “Liam, the money isn’t enough.” Liam seemed not to expect this, stunned for a moment, staring at me blankly. I spoke again: “Four thousand a month. I took care of you for a total of six years, seven months, and eighteen days. I won’t charge you double for weekends or triple for holidays. Just add another thirty-one thousand and four hundred, and we’re good.” Liam fell silent after hearing my words. A moment later, I received his transfer on Venmo. I nodded, stood up to pack my luggage. As I was leaving, Liam called out to me: “Chloe, originally I felt a bit guilty. Seeing you let go so cleanly, I’m relieved. Turns out you didn’t like me that much either. Otherwise, why didn’t you make a scene?” I took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to curse him out. Liam knew what he did wasn’t right, so he started finding reasons in me to exonerate himself. Him being a scumbag to me wasn’t his fault; see, I didn’t love him either. He was just ending a relationship where we shared a bed but different dreams. Turning back, I looked at Liam’s face, and could already see how unpleasant it looked: “Liam, did you forget? I’m not your girlfriend. I’m just a housekeeper who worked in your house for six years with a monthly salary of four thousand. Does a fired housekeeper need to hug the employer’s thigh and scream ‘I love you’?” Dragging my suitcase into the elevator, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. The deeply loved woman had been gone for six years, hadn’t even returned yet, and Liam was already keeping the seat open for her. And I, the unloved woman who was by his side for six years, could only be swept out the door with the title of a housekeeper. The difference between love and non-love was this obvious. It’s a pity it took me six years to see it clearly. 3 For the next week, I honestly went to work and got off work, never speaking another word to Liam. I didn’t even bring the lunch for Liam that I had consistently brought for six years. People in the company thought we were in a cold war. Yes, I worked at Liam’s company. In the company, we had an ambiguous relationship that was neither admitted nor denied. Liam often asked his assistant to buy gifts for me but never personally admitted our relationship. Yes, all these years, he never said I was his girlfriend. And I, sentimentally, assumed the identity of his girlfriend. I accidentally overheard the assistant timidly telling Liam: “Mr. Vance, Chloe didn’t bring you lunch.” And Liam just said lightly: “Then order takeout. Will I starve to death without Chloe’s lunch? Are there no edible things in the restaurants all over the streets?” There was an inexplicable anger in Liam’s tone, but I smiled clearly. Yes, without the meals cooked by my own hands, would President Vance starve? How dared I delusionally think I was such an important existence! On the ninth day, after I got to work, Liam’s assistant looked at me shiftily, eyes full of teasing. “Chloe, today Mr. Vance asked me to order a bouquet for him, and specifically asked for lilies!” Looking at the smile in the assistant’s eyes, my throat suddenly choked. I didn’t know how to explain that this bouquet wasn’t for me. Because today was the day Eliza returned. In the past few years, every time Liam sent me flowers, there were lilies. I had secretly been overjoyed. Liam had me in his heart; otherwise, how would he know I liked lilies? Today I learned that it was someone else who liked lilies; I just happened to like lilies too. Thinking about it, I still told the assistant: “This bouquet isn’t for me.” The assistant laughed and said: “Modest, being modest, aren’t we?” I was too lazy to explain, taking my laptop to the conference room for a meeting. When I finished and returned to the office, I saw a large bouquet of fresh flowers on my desk. The scent of perfume lilies almost drowned me. I looked at the flowers in front of me hesitantly. Could the flowers Liam ordered really be for me? 4 While I hesitated, Liam walked out of his office, suit crisp, striding fast. He asked the assistant as he walked: “Where are the flowers I asked you to buy? It’s been two hours, why aren’t they here yet?” The assistant froze for a moment, then pointed in the direction of my desk: “The flowers are already in Chloe’s office.” Liam stopped immediately, furrowing his brows and looking towards me, dissatisfaction pouring out of his eyes: “Chloe, did I say these flowers were for you?!” Looking at Liam’s angry appearance, I suddenly felt very bored. He didn’t give clear instructions himself. The assistant sent the flowers to me, yet he thought I snatched the flowers. Seeing the assistant scared witless, I didn’t explain. I just held that large bouquet of lilies and handed it to Liam: “Sorry, Mr. Vance. Returning the flowers to you.” Liam looked at me with even more unkind eyes, surging anger and disdain flashing in them: “Eliza doesn’t like second-hand goods. You want me to give her flowers you’ve smelled? Who are you trying to disgust?” Saying that, Liam raised his hand, and the lilies scattered all over the floor, just like my pitiful self-esteem. In this moment, I suddenly didn’t want to endure anymore. In these six years, even if Liam wasn’t that warm to me, he had never humiliated me like this. Eliza hadn’t even returned yet, and Liam had already humiliated me severely twice because of her. I looked up directly at Liam, provoking him word by word: “The flowers I smelled are second-hand goods; she dislikes them as disgusting. Then is the person I slept with also second-hand goods? Would your precious Eliza find that disgusting too?” Liam instantly flew into a rage. Then, I actually saw inferiority and regret in his eyes. Inferiority that he wasn’t clean? Regret that he didn’t keep his chastity for his white moonlight? Truly laughable! “Order a new bouquet. Deliver it directly to the airport.” Liam ordered coldly, turned around, and strode away, leaving me alone to bear the gossip from all directions. “Isn’t Chloe Mr. Vance’s girlfriend? Did they break up or are they having a spat?” “Broke up, right? Didn’t you see Mr. Vance sending flowers to another girl?” “Oh my god, was Chloe dumped by Mr. Vance? Normal, Chloe wasn’t good enough for Mr. Vance to begin with.” “So the new love is Eliza? What a special name!” The assistant looked at me in panic and helplessness: “Chloe, sorry, I thought they were for you.” I shook my head wearily, returned to my desk, and continued working. There were still two months until the year-end bonus. Even if I resigned, I had to take the money before leaving. The sixty-something thousand from Liam plus my own savings and this year’s bonus should be enough for me to buy a small condo and start a new life, right? Later, I didn’t see Liam for half a month. Liam, who always treated work as life, broke precedent and didn’t come to work for half a month straight. Colleagues with good sources gossiped privately: “Mr. Vance is accompanying his girlfriend shopping everywhere. Yesterday I ran into Mr. Vance at Bergdorf Goodman!” “A necklace worth over a hundred thousand, bought just like that, without blinking an eye!” “Sigh, so envious. If only I could find a boyfriend like that, handsome and rich.” Suddenly someone whispered: “Chloe was with Mr. Vance for several years, right? Probably made quite a bit, since Mr. Vance is so generous.” “But she can really endure. Being dumped and still sticking around Mr. Vance’s company, not resigning actively. Thick-skinned.” “But she must be thinking of winning Mr. Vance back. But looking at Mr. Vance’s stance, Chloe probably has no chance. After all, with Chloe’s looks, tsk tsk tsk, Mr. Vance can’t be blind forever, right?” Hearing this, I walked straight to the colleague openly gossiping about me and slapped her hard. The person who got hit immediately covered her face and screamed: “Chloe, what right do you have to hit me? Do you think you are still Mr. Vance’s girlfriend? You got dumped and still act arrogant in the company!” I rubbed my palm, tone cold: “I hit you because you talk about me behind my back without even knowing how to do it properly. What does whose girlfriend I am have to do with it? If you’re not convinced, go tell your Mr. Vance and see if he stands up for you.” Enduring Liam had already used up all my capacity. I really had no interest in enduring others. The girl cried and whined. The company was much quieter, and I was much more comfortable. Unfortunately, the comfortable days didn’t last two days. Liam suddenly appeared in the company with Eliza.

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Married for three years, Asher Sterling had never touched me. I put on a lace nightgown, faked hickeys on my neck, and took a photo of myself pretending to sleep from a third-person perspective. “Bro, she smells amazing. Hurry up and divorce her, give her to me, okay?” I guessed that receiving this anonymous message would make Asher disgusted and furious, finally discarding me—his substitute for my sister—like trash. I thought this time, I could finally divorce him. Chapter 1 My sister was vacationing in Europe, celebrating her third wedding anniversary. She asked what gift I wanted. I asked for an unregistered overseas SIM card. Clutching the SIM card, standing in the empty hotel room, I let out a weary sigh. Then, I put on the sheer lace nightgown I bought specifically for this plan. Looking in the mirror, I created ambiguous hickeys on my collarbone and neck using makeup. The marks were scattered, looking as if a man consumed by desire had aggressively and possessively claimed me. One of the straps of the nightgown was “torn” by the “man.” Finally, looking in the mirror, I smudged my lipstick until it was messy. Then I sat on the bed and messed up the other side to make it look like someone had slept there. I closed my eyes heavily. Camera on timer, third-person perspective. Three, two, one. The woman in the photo looked like she had just been through a passionate session, sleeping defenselessly. I stared at it for a long time. My mind involuntarily recalled Asher Sterling’s notorious reputation in the business world. A smiling tiger. A capitalist who eats people without spitting out the bones. But what I was most familiar with was his face—always cold and heartless. Although beautiful, all his affection was given only to my sister. I prepared for the worst. Even if Asher had no feelings for me, a man would find it hard to tolerate a woman’s betrayal. He would likely seek revenge. But ultimately, he would discard me in disgust and anger, divorcing me. As long as we could divorce. I just wanted a divorce. I closed my eyes and pressed send. On the phone screen, the text was casual and provocative— “Bro, she smells amazing. Hurry up and divorce her, give her to me, okay?” Attached was that photo. Sent successfully. Chapter 2 Less than two seconds later. I received a reply. Asher: “Who are you?” I changed my clothes slowly. Almost sadistically, I prolonged the reply time. Was he exploding with rage? Did he want to skin the anonymous sender alive? The favored son of heaven, flawless since childhood, was now having his emotions controlled by someone else—someone he had always held in the palm of his hand. Three years of dullness and pain found a sliver of pleasure today. I changed into my regular clothes. In the interval, Asher sent two more messages. “Don’t use this clumsy AI face swap. State your purpose.” “I advise you to come clean. I might leave your corpse intact.” I chuckled. “Mr. Sterling, is it AI face swap? Ask your wife, won’t you know?” “The hickeys on my baby’s neck won’t fade that fast (^v^).” I dared to say this because I knew Asher was abroad negotiating a very important deal. He wouldn’t be back for at least half a month. The next instant, my own phone suddenly rang. I jumped. The ringtone blared wildly. It was Asher calling. I pursed my lips, staring at the phone until the call disconnected. But soon, the screen lit up again. Asher was calling relentlessly. I understood. This time, he was truly pissed off. My heart pounded wildly. I felt like I was walking a tightrope, playing a deadly game. I sent: “Mr. Sterling, stop calling. We did it five times; your wife is exhausted and asleep.” The calls finally stopped. My phone fell into dead silence. Using that anonymous SIM card, I sent: “I didn’t mean to break you up, Mr. Sterling. Your wife and I truly love each other. Be the bigger man, divorce her early, and let me have her. Otherwise, if word gets out you’re wearing a green hat, you’ll lose face.” Asher didn’t reply again. Unsettled, I threw the torn lace nightgown into the trash, checked out, and returned to the villa. The maids were cleaning. Everything was incredibly normal, peaceful as if nothing had happened. Washed up, went to sleep. In the early morning, when the sky was brightening, I groggily heard the roar of an engine and the screech of tires outside the window. Before I could react and open my eyes in panic, there was a knock on the bedroom door. “Hazel, open the door.” That voice was deep and cold, the tone forced into steadiness, revealing only a hint of restless anxiety. I was fully awake, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over me, freezing me to the bone. It was Asher. Chapter 3 I was in total disarray. How could he be back? To him, I was just an insignificant substitute tool. The knock sounded again. Still three times, extreme restraint. He spoke slightly faster: “Hazel, I want to see you.” I sat up. I couldn’t panic. I couldn’t give myself away. I took a deep breath, feigning sleepiness but forcing calm: “Mr. Sterling, I… need to use the bathroom and shower. Please wait a moment.” I ran into the bathroom, turned on the showerhead, and stared dead at the marks on my neck. These were pinched by me using a bottle mouth yesterday. For realism, I was ruthless. Forget fading; foundation probably wouldn’t even cover them! But I had to cover them. Because the first reaction of a cheater would definitely be to lie and cover up. Asher was sharp. I had to commit to the act. I wet my hair to fake post-shower wetness, then changed into a high-necked black dress, covering even my arms tightly. The half-hickey peeking out from the collar, I carefully covered with a band-aid. Looking in the mirror, I practiced a guilty yet feigning-calm expression. Disgusting enough, right? Asher would surely propose divorce in disgust without hesitation and tell me to get out. I opened the door. Asher sat on the sofa, brows furrowed, eyes closed in rest. His face was a bit pale, with a faint stubble on his chin. He forgot his watch; his cufflinks were missing too. One hand gripped his phone tightly; the other hung over the armrest, four deep wounds on the knuckles. As if he had punched something hard, more than once. But he didn’t care, not even applying a band-aid. “Mr. Sterling, why are you back?” Asher opened his eyes to look at me, pupils dark and heavy. He pushed himself up from the sofa. The man who was anxious just moments ago now walked towards me incredibly slowly. I subconsciously took a step back but was grabbed by the arm and pulled back. He lowered his eyes to look at my neck, pupils constricting bit by bit. I forced a smile. “Is something wrong?” He didn’t answer. He just used his cold fingers, two fingers together, slowly hovering over the band-aid. It seemed like the next second he would tear it off violently, tearing away all my lies, and then furiously, humiliated, tear up our fake marriage certificate. My body started to tremble. I closed my eyes, waiting to be exposed. But his index and middle fingers just lightly rested on the band-aid. Asher asked calmly, “How did you get this?” I deliberately dodged his gaze. “Just… accidentally got scratched by a book page yesterday.” “Book page…” Asher blinked very slowly. “What did you do last night?” His fingertips probed into my collar. Just a forceful pull, and he could see the hickeys hidden deep under the fabric. I swallowed. “Went out for a hair treatment last night.” Asher’s breathing became heavy. He looked at me expressionlessly. For a moment, I had the illusion he would devour me alive. His fingers pulled at the collar. I stumbled along the force, almost falling into his arms. I quickly extended my arms to block his chest. His palm wrapped around my lower back, like an iron hoop, tightening bit by bit. That suppressed anger seemed to be vented bit by bit in this way. My strength couldn’t match his; my resisting arms started to weaken. Asher approached me inch by inch. “Mr. Sterling, don’t.” I said tremblingly. Although I didn’t know what he wanted to do, intuition told me it would be dangerous. My mind went blank, voice shaking, begging incoherently. Three or four seconds passed. He actually slowly retracted his fingers, clenching them into a fist. His face turned livid, corners of his mouth tight. Only then did I realize what I had just said—”I’m scared, don’t touch me, please.” “I will assign two bodyguards to you. They will follow you when you go out to ensure your safety,” Asher announced flatly. Then he turned and left without hesitation. It wasn’t until the familiar engine sound came from outside that I woke up from the dream— He wasn’t pursuing it? How was that possible?! Chapter 4 I was monitored very strictly, with almost no chance to take out that phone to contact anyone. Asher, far away abroad, somehow wrapped up his business trip in just five days this time and rushed back. After he returned, the surveillance on me relaxed a lot. I finally had the chance to pick up the phone again. I sent a message using that anonymous SIM card. “Bro, you’re a sore loser. Even if she cheated, just divorce her, right? Why lock your wife up?” Asher replied very quickly: “She didn’t cheat. I trust her. Hazel isn’t someone who would do these things.” I stared blankly at this text. What did he mean? Although I indeed resorted to this because I couldn’t bring myself to actually cheat with a man, how did Asher know what kind of person I was so well? He was clearly… clearly so indifferent to me. I risked everything, ignoring anything else, adding fuel to the fire: “Mr. Sterling, you won’t know your wife better than I do.” “She has three moles. On her ribs, next to her navel, and… Every time I connect them with my finger and slide down, she shivers uncontrollably.” “But you are her husband. Married for three years, you should have known this long ago, right?” The last sentence was full of sarcasm because in these three years, Asher had never touched me. Crash! Just after I sent it, a loud smashing sound came from upstairs. It came from Asher’s study. I shivered, hurriedly hiding the spare phone. The smashing sound rang out a few more times. Then, I heard Asher going downstairs. He instructed the housekeeper wearily: “Find someone to clean up. The computer needs replacing.” Footsteps approached. I trembled in fear, hallucinating that the next thing he would tear apart was me. I shrank into the quilt like an escape, pretending to sleep. My door lock had been broken inexplicably since he came back. Asher gently turned the handle. Seeing the darkness in the bedroom, he didn’t speak. In the dead silence, his violent panting and unsettled, chaotic heartbeat were obvious to the extreme. It even made me suspect if Asher could hear my racing heart too. He got closer. Closer. I squeezed my eyes shut. Asher didn’t shake me awake, didn’t strangle me in a thunderous rage demanding an explanation. He stood by my bed. Even though I didn’t open my eyes, I could still feel a sharp, scorching gaze deeply nailed to my lower abdomen, seeming to hesitate whether to confirm. Don’t shake. Keep breathing steady. Act! I remained motionless. Suddenly, I felt the mattress beside me dip. Asher slowly lay down beside me. That cold yet scalding gaze still congealed on me. I gritted my teeth. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I’ll light another fire for him! As if falling into a sweet dream, I groggily turned over and arched my head into his embrace. Asher paused. That fierce gaze suddenly softened. “Hubby…” I murmured. Asher stiffened for a second. I relentlessly wrapped my arms around him, using the sweetest voice of my life, “Hubby, hold me.” I thought he would be angry, maybe even slap me awake. Because I had never called him hubby. He knew I was calling someone else. But— He glared at me, gripping my arm hard, trembling with rage. But the next instant, hearing my muffled groan, he forced himself to relax his grip. Asher cupped the back of my head, making me hug him tighter. He kissed my hair. Then he stroked my back from top to bottom with his palm, a clumsy yet gentle gesture to soothe me to sleep. He whispered: “Mn. Hubby holds.” I froze. This eerie calm… he was absolutely insane. Asher was brilliantly smart. He should have realized I cheated the moment he received the first text. To avoid a scandal, he should have drafted a divorce agreement ASAP and forced me out with nothing. But he denied it again and again. Biasedly, crazily, stubbornly denied that I slept with someone else. He even snatched the endearments meant for someone else, like self-hypnosis. What on earth was he doing? Thinking I had stopped murmuring and fallen into a deeper sleep… He silently lifted the quilt. His finger pressed against my ribs, then slid gently down in the direction of that mole. A light touch. Fingertips cool. Extremely fast. So fast I didn’t react before I suddenly curled up, shaking uncontrollably. I made up that text! Even I didn’t know that having my moles touched by someone would feel like an electric shock! I trembled wretchedly, unable to keep up the act, immediately wanting to turn and dodge. Asher stopped stroking. He wrapped his arms around me completely, forcing me to press against him face to face. Tight, firm, like a lover’s lock. Pressing against my chest, I could feel the heartbeat under his ribs. Chaotic, crazy, powerful. He whispered softly: “You are mine. I am yours.” He was truly mad. Abandoning all rational and calm logic and weighing of pros and cons, he had become a beast. Savage, direct, possessing without compromise. As if dragging me into his lair meant I could only belong to him. Asher objectified me, and objectified himself. We weren’t humans with fragile skin and sensitive souls, but two lifeless iron locks. Click. Locked together. Stubbornly believing I was his, and he was mine. He was truly insane. I opened my eyes in the dark. Between the burning chest and arms, I stared complexly at Asher’s sleeping face. Until my eyelids grew heavy, and I fell asleep. In the dream, the me from three years ago cried and begged Asher to let me go. He looked at me coldly. Until I shouted: “I don’t owe you anything! You have no reason to lock me up!” Only then did he step back. After a full minute of silence, he looked up. “You owe me. Your sister ran away and ruined the engagement, so you have to pay me back with your whole life. I won’t let you go.” I collapsed on the ground then, touching the face similar to my sister’s, finally understanding. He wouldn’t let me go even in death because he treated me as my sister’s substitute. Three years passed like this, bitter and unbearable. When I opened my eyes, Asher had already left. The bed beside me was smooth and clean, as if no one had been there.

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After the diagnosis—the severe clotting disorder, the fragile veins—I became the family’s little ticking clock. They called me their ‘Fragile Prince,’ but it sounded more like an epitaph. The doctors said I wouldn’t make it past five. My parents poured everything into me. Every dollar, every minute, every prayer was for my survival. On my fifth birthday, the house was, for once, loud with forced cheer. Only my younger brother, Noah, too young to grasp the weight of the moment, asked, “Liam, will you die tomorrow?” That was the first time I ever saw Dad hit him. And Mom? She knelt on the floor, weeping, bowing her head again and again, begging God to give me a few more years. But on Noah’s first day of pre-K, I did the unforgivable. I whispered that my chest hurt and asked for a pain pill. Mom snapped. Her control shattered, and she started screaming. She slapped me so hard my head whipped back. “How could you be so sickeningly selfish? Are you trying to kill your brother by stealing his one good day?” “We revolve around you, Liam! Can’t we have just one moment to take him to school?” “If you want to die, just die! Stop torturing us!” She threw the pill bottle at me—a cascade of plastic and white tablets—grabbed Noah’s hand, and slammed the door behind them. I didn’t say a word. I just watched the small cut on my forearm—where a shard of the bottle had nicked me—slowly begin to seep blood. My body was already going cold. 1 The pill bottle fragment had caught my forearm when I threw my hand up. I stared at the cut for two seconds, the doctor’s warning echoing in my head: “Kid, you absolutely cannot get a cut. The bleeding won’t stop.” I scrambled for the Band-Aids. They were soaked through in under a minute. I turned to find a proper gauze bandage, but the blood was already dripping onto the clean tile floor. Mom—Cari—she hated messes. I couldn’t add this to her burden. I panicked, tearing at my sleeve to wipe the floor. But the blood seemed to explode the moment it hit the tile, smearing and spreading with every frantic wipe. I grabbed the nearest hand towel and wrapped it tightly around the wound. The cold started then. Not just the chill of the bathroom, but a deep, systemic cold that traveled from my fingertips to my bones. I stumbled into the bathroom and ran the tub full of the hottest water I could stand. Sliding in, the heat brought a momentary reprieve. The blood was still flowing, staining the clear water a dark rose color. I suddenly needed them. I fumbled with my old cell phone and called Dad’s number. It rang and rang. No answer. I called Mom. The background noise was deafening—music, the high-pitched shriek of children, cheering. It was a party, a world away from my slowly reddening bathwater. “What is it, Liam? Make it fast. Noah’s about to go on stage for the talent show.” “Mom, I don’t feel well. I cut my—” Her impatient voice cut through the noise, sharp and impatient. “Not well again? “Do you only feel unwell when the attention isn’t on you?” “Liam, you’re eight years old. You are a big boy. Can’t you, for once, be considerate?” The dial tone buzzed, loud and empty, in the vast quiet of the bathroom. I watched the water deepen to crimson. She was right. I was nothing but a complication. My illness was a complication, my unhappiness was a complication, and now, my bleeding was a complication. Mom’s favorite knit cardigan lay draped over the edge of the tub. I carefully pulled it over my face. It smelled faintly of her, that comforting, familiar scent of gardenia and laundry soap. It brought me back to when I was little and feverish, and she would watch over me just like this. The water was growing cold. The flow of blood seemed to be slowing, too—maybe it was almost done. As my head started to spin, I wondered if once all the bad blood was gone, I would be better. Then Mom and Dad wouldn’t have to worry about their sickly son. Noah wouldn’t have to concede to his older brother all the time. And I wouldn’t have to be so painfully careful, so constantly good, biting down on the pain every midnight just to avoid making a sound. I curled up in the tub, feeling as safe and calm as if I were back in my mother’s womb. 2 The next time I opened my eyes, I only saw a tiny, pale version of myself floating in the bathtub. So I was already dead. The front door opened. I heard Noah’s voice, bright and full of energy. “Liam, I’m home!” I rushed out. Mom and Dad, Cari and Dan, walked in holding Noah’s hands. Dad carried a store-bought strawberry cake. Dan paused, looking at the mess I’d left in the living room. “What is all this?” Cari frowned. “He was having a tantrum at lunchtime.” “He was mad I was taking Noah to school, so he lied and said he was sick.” Dad’s expression darkened. “He’s getting impossible.” I tried to explain, waving my spectral hands frantically in front of them. “No, it wasn’t intentional! Liam wasn’t trying to make you mad!” My hand passed right through Dan’s shoulder. They felt nothing. Noah broke free and ran to my bedroom door. He tapped lightly. “Liam, come out and have some cake.” Silence. Noah looked up. “Is he asleep?” I wrapped my arms around him in a hug he couldn’t feel. “Thank you, Noah.” Mom’s voice was hard. “He’s not asleep. He’s pouting. “Don’t worry about him. We’re eating first.” Dad put the cake on the dining table. Noah watched with wide, expectant eyes. He whispered, “But I wanted to wait for Liam.” Dad tore open the box and exchanged a look with Mom. “If Liam had even half your common sense, Noah, we’d have a much easier life.” The candles were placed and lit. Noah was lifted onto a chair. Under the warm gaze of his parents, he blew out five flickering flames. It was his fifth birthday, too. Mom asked gently, “Did you make a wish, sweetie?” Noah’s eyes sparkled. “Yes! I wished that Liam—” Dad smiled and ruffled his hair. “Wishes don’t come true if you say them out loud, buddy.” I watched from the side. Every year, my birthday had been steeped in the smell of medicine. The candles felt like a countdown. But Noah’s birthday finally felt like a birthday should. When it was time to cut the cake, Noah insisted on the biggest slice. “This one is for Liam!” He carried the plate to my door and knocked again. “Liam, come share my strawberry cake!” No response. The smile slid slowly from Noah’s face. He walked back to the table. “Liam won’t talk to me.” Dad suddenly reached out, snatching the plate from Noah’s hands. He threw the perfect slice of strawberry cake—Noah’s gift—into the trash can. He slammed his hand on the table, his temper blazing. “Fine! If he won’t eat it, no one calls him again! “He can starve until he learns how to behave.” Noah flinched, his eyes instantly turning red. Mom pulled him into her embrace and shot a sharp look at Dad. “Don’t yell at the kids.” She cooed to Noah. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll eat first. When Liam knows he’s done something wrong, he’ll come out.” I knelt by the trash can, gazing at the discarded slice. The strawberries on the cream were so fresh. Now it lay there, mingled with crumpled napkins and coffee grounds. What a waste. Strawberry was my favorite. Noah ate his small slice slowly, glancing toward my closed door every few seconds. Mom and Dad ate in silence. There should have been four places at the table. Now one seat was empty. I floated over and sat in my spot, whispering a soundless Happy Birthday to my little brother. 3 That evening, Mom was bathing Noah. I hovered by the shower curtain, my heart clenching, terrified she would pull it back and see me in the tub. In the cloud of steam, Mom rubbed bubbles onto Noah’s skin. He looked up, his wet hair stuck to his forehead. “Mom, why hasn’t Liam come out yet?” Mom’s hands paused. “He’s probably just tired, sweetie.” Noah murmured, “But I miss him. I haven’t seen him all day.” Mom turned off the water and wrapped him completely in a large towel, pulling him into a hug. “Noah, do you ever get mad at Mom and Dad?” “Mad about what?” Mom held him tighter. “Mad because we’re always focused on Liam? Because we always give him the best things? Because sometimes we forget to give you enough time?” Noah wrapped his small, wet arms around her neck. “No. Why would I? Liam is sick.” “My teacher said that people who are sick need the most help. “I want to help you and Dad take care of him.” Mom’s shoulders began to tremble slightly. She buried her face in his towel, silent for a long moment. “You’re such a good boy, Noah.” She sniffled. “Liam… Liam is very sad, too.” I plastered myself against the cool tile floor, listening as Mom continued. “Your brother was born with a bad heart. The doctors said he might not grow up.” Her voice was thick with tears. “So your dad and I were always terrified he was in pain, terrified he wouldn’t make it. We wanted to give him every good thing we could.” Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “But sometimes… sometimes I get so tired.” “Sometimes I wish he was healthy. Sometimes I wish I could spend more time with you.” Noah listened, not fully understanding, but patting her back with his tiny hand. I was curled up in the corner, tears—transparent and meaningless—falling to the ground. “I’m sorry, Mom. It was my fault,” I sobbed. “If I had never been born, if you only had Noah, everything would be so much better.” They heard nothing. After the bath, Mom tucked Noah into bed. Then she walked to my bedroom door and stood there for a long time. Finally, she raised her hand and knocked gently. “Liam, are you sleeping?” I floated in front of her, trying to reach out, but my fingertips passed through the air. “Mom shouldn’t have yelled at you today. I was wrong.” “It was Noah’s first day of school, and I was so nervous. I wasn’t trying to be mean.” She waited, listening for a response. I couldn’t give her one. Never again. Mom sighed. “I left a slice of cake on the dining room table. It’s your favorite, strawberry. Please eat it.” She stood there for a few more seconds before walking back to the master bedroom. The door closed. I went to the living room and saw the cake on the dining table. It was small, on a simple plate, the strawberry tilted slightly. Late at night, I looked at the little me in the bathtub. The water was completely cold. My face was white as paper. Mom never opened the curtain. She didn’t know that the cake she left was a gift I could never eat. The apology she offered was one I could never hear. 4 I followed Mom into the master bedroom. Dad looked up when she entered. “Did Liam come out?” Mom sat on the bed, folding clothes. She shook her head. “No movement. He’s older now, he has his pride.” Dad took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Liam is miserable, Cari. “He’s never been to school, he barely has any friends. Seeing his brother go off to pre-K—it’s natural he’d be jealous.” “Maybe we should hire him a private tutor?” Mom’s hands froze on a shirt. “A tutor? With what money, Dan? We still owe the hospital from last month’s medicine.” Dad sighed and rolled onto his side. “I’ll start driving for DoorDash after work. A few extra hours a night, we can save up.” Mom turned to look at him. The bedside lamp illuminated his face, the dark circles under his eyes starkly visible. “You’re already exhausted from your day job. That’s too dangerous.” Dad waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine, I’m strong.” “Just… my shoulder is a little tight lately. Can you put a patch on it?” Dad turned his back. Mom lifted his pajama collar. The skin on his shoulder was red and swollen. I stood by the bed, watching the inflamed skin, and my ghost-tears fell onto the duvet. I used to complain that he came home too late, that he didn’t play with me enough. I never realized that every late night, every hour he spent away, was a direct act of love for me. I flew into his arms, my own invisible, desperate hug. “I’m so sorry, Dad. Please forgive my selfishness.” Mom smoothed on the pain patch. They lay down and turned off the light. I lay down between them, just as I had when I was a toddler. To my left, Mom’s warm, shallow breaths. To my right, Dad’s steady, rhythmic heartbeat. I reached out, wrapping my empty arms around them. In that moment, I felt profoundly happy. The next morning, Mom called us for breakfast. When she passed the dining table, she saw the strawberry cake still on the plate, untouched. The cream had started to sag, the strawberry was wilted. The softness in Mom’s face vanished. She put the plate down and walked to my door. She knocked twice. “Liam Hayes, come out now.” No response. Her eyes began to well up. “I apologized yesterday! What more do you want?” “The cake is still sitting there! Are you on a hunger strike? “Who are you putting on a show for? Are you trying to kill me with stress?” Still silence. Mom’s hand gripped the doorknob. She twisted and pushed the door open. The room was empty. Her face went white. She spun around, a rising panic in her voice. “Dan! Liam is gone!” Dad rushed over, terrified. “What? Don’t panic. He must be somewhere in the house.” Then, Noah’s voice piped up. “Mom, Liam is playing in the water in your bathroom.” I panicked, too. I screamed at Noah. “Noah, stop! Don’t let Mom see me!” But Noah couldn’t hear me. He ran into the bathroom and pulled the shower curtain all the way back. Mom let out a huge sigh of relief. “Liam, that is too much! You have really made me angry this time!” The next second, she saw me, floating in the dark red water.

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At eight months pregnant, my long-distance husband, worried I’d get jealous, replaced his young, beautiful secretary with an old woman. Then, for our anniversary, he sent a nine-carat diamond ring from overseas. Everyone gushed, telling me how lucky I was. But I only needed one glance at the ring before I coldly dialed Zachary’s number. “I don’t want this ring. And I don’t want to see you again. We’re getting a divorce.” A hush fell over the room. On the other end of the line, Zachary’s voice trembled. “What? What did I do wrong? I’ve spent years flying back and forth for you, showering you with gifts.” “You’re pregnant and sensitive, so I even fired the secretary I’d had for years and hired a woman old enough to be my mother.” “And this ring… Jane, it’s one-of-a-kind. Have I not been good enough to you?” My face was a mask. “Then you can give the ring to your new secretary and spend the rest of your life with her. We’re done.” 1 That night, Zachary boarded a red-eye flight, enduring more than ten hours in the air to come back. He came straight to my hospital room. The moment he appeared, I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and laid them in front of him. “Since you’re here,” I said calmly, “you can just sign these.” Zachary’s face was ashen, his voice raspy. “Honey, you’re just saying this to get me to come home, right? I’m here now. You can stop.” The other patients in the ward started whispering. “A divorce? What a shame. Look at her belly, she’s about to pop!” “I know her. Her husband works abroad, but he’s always sending gifts to the hospital. He treats her like a queen.” “She’s just being difficult. I heard he sent her a nine-carat diamond yesterday, and she wasn’t happy with it!” The murmurs of condemnation grew louder, and the glares of disgust became impossible to ignore. Everyone saw me as a spoiled, ungrateful wife, taking a stand for the poor, wronged Zachary. And why wouldn’t they? For years, Zachary had been the perfect husband. We were childhood sweethearts, each other’s first love. He spent every day finding new ways to make me smile. When the company needed someone to manage the new branch in the States, I was hesitant to send anyone else. He volunteered immediately. After that, he practically lived on red-eye flights, shuttling between two countries, collecting hundreds of boarding passes just for a few hours with me. When I got pregnant, he replaced his young, gorgeous secretary with an older woman, just to put my mind at ease. My friends and family all said I’d hit the jackpot. But that was all in the past. I turned away from him, my voice unwavering. “Think whatever you want. This divorce is happening today.” His eyes reddened. He grabbed my hand, his voice cracking as he begged, “Jane, please, don’t do this. If you don’t like the ring, I’ll buy you something else. I’ll quit my job, I’ll stay here with you until the baby comes, okay?” “Not okay.” I pulled my hand from his grasp, my gaze like ice. “The only thing I want from you is a divorce.” Seeing my resolve, Zachary’s new secretary, Linda, rushed forward, her voice shrill. “Mrs. Lewis, how can you do this to him?” “He dropped a multi-million dollar contract and flew for over ten hours on a red-eye just to appease your little tantrum!” “And that ring! Do you have any idea what he went through to have a top designer create that for you? Are you just going to throw his devotion away like it’s trash?” I shot her a look of pure contempt. “You’re just a secretary. What gives you the right to speak here?” “And since you feel so sorry for him, why don’t you marry him instead?” 2 Linda’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. “Mrs. Lewis, what are you saying? Look at my age! You can’t be jealous of me!” Zachary’s brow furrowed. “Honey, isn’t your pregnancy making you a little paranoid? Me and Linda? How is that even possible…” The onlookers sized Linda up and couldn’t help but snicker. “Is this woman insane? She’s jealous of a grandma?” “That lady has to be in her fifties, maybe sixties. Her husband is young, handsome, and rich. If he wanted to cheat, he’d have women throwing themselves at him. Why would he pick someone old enough to be his mother?” “Exactly! How desperate would he have to be to go for her?” The laughter grew, and Zachary’s expression filled with exasperation. He gripped my hand tightly, his voice a low, pleading whisper. “I hired an older secretary specifically so you wouldn’t get jealous. How can you still think the worst of me?” “We have so much history, Jane. Please, don’t do this. We can’t get a divorce.” I stared at him and let out a cold laugh. “Fine. Then fire her.” Zachary froze, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Mrs. Lewis!” Linda suddenly dropped to her knees in front of everyone, tears streaming down her face. “My son has a terminal illness, and my husband is dead,” she sobbed. “Mr. Lewis only gave me this job out of pity. You can’t make him fire me!” “My life doesn’t matter, but my son is in the ICU, waiting for money to save his life! I really, really need this job.” Linda’s wails were heartbreakingly convincing. The crowd murmured in sympathy, turning on me. “She’s in such a horrible situation. How can you take away her livelihood just because of your own insecurities?” “Yeah, this is all in your head. The poor woman is desperate. Give her a break!” “You’re eight months pregnant. Don’t you have any compassion?” Seeing the tide turn in her favor, Linda clutched at the hem of my gown. “Mrs. Lewis, I promise I’ll stay far away from Mr. Lewis. I’ll only do my work… Please, just let me keep my job…” When I remained unmoved, Zachary’s patience finally snapped. “Jane, this has gone too far. Linda is just a pitiful woman.” “I’ve gone too far?” I scoffed, my eyes locking with his. “Zachary, the disgusting things you’ve done are far worse than anything I could imagine. Don’t force me to say them all out loud.” A flash of panic crossed Zachary’s face before he blustered, his voice rising. “What have I done? Everything I do is to make you happy, to give you and our child a better life!” Linda wiped her tears and stood up, pointing a trembling finger at me. “How can you say that about him, Mrs. Lewis?” “While you’ve been here, resting and being cared for, Mr. Lewis has been working himself to the bone, skipping meals and staying up all night. What could he possibly have done? He’s a fool for loving a woman like you!” I let out another cold laugh, my gaze shifting between the two of them. “Working late into the night? Are you sure it was work, or something else filthy? The two of you know better than anyone.” With that, I threw the divorce papers at his chest and turned to leave. Just then, my mother-in-law burst into the room, breathless. “Jane, what’s going on? I heard you want a divorce. What happened?” She grabbed my arm, her face etched with concern. “Did that bastard Zachary do something to hurt you? You tell me, and I’ll handle him!” 3 I looked at Zachary’s mother and took a deep breath, but said nothing. She was a fair woman; for years, she had treated me like her own daughter. After I got pregnant, she’d been by my side day and night, fussing over my every need. It was this caring husband and doting mother-in-law who had pulled the wool over my eyes for so long, making me believe I was the luckiest woman alive. What a joke. I didn’t have all the evidence yet. I couldn’t reveal the whole truth. So I remained silent. Seeing my silence, my mother-in-law grew more frantic and turned on Zachary. “You! What did you do?” Zachary opened his mouth, then closed it with a heavy sigh, unable to speak. The onlookers chimed in, defending him to his mother. “Your son didn’t do anything wrong! It’s your daughter-in-law who’s being unreasonable and paranoid!” “She’s demanding he fire his secretary. It’s a misunderstanding. The woman is ancient!” “Exactly! It’s ridiculous to get jealous over an old woman!” My mother-in-law glanced at Linda, her expression a mix of disbelief and weary resignation. She turned back to me. “Jane, honey, are you just overwhelmed by the pregnancy? You’ve always been so level-headed. Why would you want a divorce over… her?” “This woman is nearly my age. It’s impossible…” “Are you upset that Zachary’s been away, that he hasn’t been here for you? Look, the baby’s almost due. I’ll make him stay home this month to be with you!” My face was stone. “No. I want a divorce.” “Jane!” Zachary’s voice was raw. He fell to his knees before me, his eyes red-rimmed and pleading. “Honey, if I did something wrong, just tell me. Don’t use divorce to threaten me.” “I know I haven’t been around enough, with us living in different countries. But it was for the company! To provide for you and our baby!” He grew more frantic, tears streaming down his face. The crowd was moved. “Pregnancy is hard, but you have to be understanding. You can’t just throw the word divorce around.” “He’s such a good husband. We’ve all seen it.” “And if you’re going to divorce him, you need a real reason. Not… not because of some old lady.” At this, Linda edged closer again, sobbing. “If I’m the reason you’re divorcing Mr. Lewis, then I’ll leave! Maybe this is just my fate. To lose my husband, and then my son… Once he’s gone, I’ll just go with him…” The crowd erupted in indignation on her behalf, pointing at me. “See? Now you’re going to drive this poor woman to her death!” “You rich people have no heart! Her son is her whole world! He has a terminal illness! Do you really think she has the time or energy to seduce your husband?” “Besides, look at her! Your husband isn’t that desperate!” The accusations rained down on me while Zachary and Linda wept together. I ignored them all, pushing the divorce papers closer to him. “If you want to be a saint and save her and her son, that’s your business.” “Sign these papers, we get a divorce, and I wash my hands of you.” “And you’ll walk away with nothing.” 4 Gasps filled the room. Everyone stared at me, utterly baffled. Zachary’s face drained of color. “Jane! You have to stop this!” he roared. His hysteria didn’t move me. I said nothing. The air thickened with tension. My mother-in-law’s gaze darted between me and Zachary before she sat on the edge of my bed. “Jane,” she said softly, “I’m not one to take sides, and I know you’re not an unreasonable person. Whatever it is, you can tell me. Don’t be afraid.” “But his secretary… you must be sensitive because of the pregnancy. You’re overthinking it.” “Besides, you’re eight months along. The baby will be here any day. You can’t let your child grow up without a father.” At the mention of the baby, my hand instinctively went to my stomach. A pang of regret shot through me. Seeing his chance, Zachary pressed on. “Honey, Mom’s right. You can’t let our child grow up without a father just because of some paranoid jealousy. Please, stop this, okay?” He humbled himself completely, his eyes growing redder by the second. Just then, a doctor knocked and entered the room. He scanned the crowd, his eyes finally landing on me. “Jane Quinn,” he said sternly, “regarding what you asked me about before, I’m telling you again: you are too far along. You absolutely cannot terminate the pregnancy.” Stunned silence. Zachary froze, the blood draining from his face. Before he could react, the doctor turned to him. “You’re the husband, right? A pregnant woman’s emotional state is critical. You need to be here for her. She’s come to so many appointments, and I haven’t seen you at a single one. That’s completely irresponsible.” Zachary, looking ashamed, could only nod. As the doctor left, Zachary’s face contorted with a rage he could no longer contain. “Jane, what the hell are you thinking?” he snarled. “You’re eight months pregnant and you wanted to get an abortion? Are you trying to kill yourself?” My mother-in-law’s eyes welled with tears. “Jane,” she sobbed, “we spent years trying for this baby through IVF! What could possibly be so bad that you’d consider this?” Her words struck a nerve, and a wave of sorrow washed over me. Of course, I knew how precious this baby was. I knew how dangerous an abortion would be at this stage. But I grew up in a single-parent home. I was terrified of my child suffering the same judgment and whispers that I did. I took a shaky breath and looked at Zachary. “I’ll keep the baby. But we are getting a divorce. You will go back to the States and you will never see us again.” The words had barely left my mouth when Zachary’s knees hit the floor with a sickening thud. His hand shot out, grabbing a fruit knife from the side table. He pressed the blade against his own wrist. “If you divorce me,” he choked out, “I’ll die right here, right now.” The room erupted into chaos. The crowd could no longer hold back. “Just agree with him! Do you want him to die?” “She wants to abort her baby and divorce her husband over an old woman! How can anyone be so heartless?” “He’s such a good man! She’s throwing it all away!” My mother-in-law knelt beside him, weeping. “I’m begging you, Jane… What has Zachary ever done to you? Are you trying to destroy our family?” The insults intensified, a barrage of ugly words hurled in my direction. “Fine.” My voice, sudden and strangely calm, cut through the noise. The room fell silent. Every eye was on me. I slowly scanned the furious faces, my gaze finally settling on Zachary. “You all want a reason? I’ll give you a reason why this marriage has to end.”

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Waking up in the middle of the night to a post from the Campus King was never a good sign, especially when it read: [Been talking to a girl online for three months. We’re supposed to meet next week, and I just found out she’s a hundred-and-sixty-pound whale. Help.] The top comment was pure evil: [Simple. Give the account and the girlfriend to someone you hate. Let two annoying people cancel each other out.] The Campus King happily agreed. I scrolled past with a shudder, thanking my lucky stars my own boyfriend wasn’t like that. A few weeks later, I was having a sweet dinner with my boyfriend when the Campus King suddenly showed up, pointing at the man across from me and practically screaming: “You bastard! I should be Liv Parker’s boyfriend! Give her and the account back right now!” 1 I was already half-asleep, but the post immediately grabbed my attention. I recognized the user: Sawyer Reed. The campus king. Was this guy really doing the online dating thing? Sawyer was deep into a digital breakdown in his thread: [God help me, she told me she was five-foot-six and looked like a supermodel. I believed her for three whole months!] [I forgot to ask about her weight!] [I ordered her some takeout today and asked the delivery guy to describe her. He said a walking barrel came down, legs thicker than her waist, like a side of beef. The thought of calling a side of beef ‘babe’ for three months makes me want to spontaneously combust!] The comment section was having a field day: [Catching feelings for an online ghost? A quick pic will set him straight.] [Fate hates pretty-boy snobs. This is karma.] Sawyer was losing it: [This isn’t just teasing now. I have to meet her next week! I want to run over every single pig-demon in the world!] Huh, weird coincidence. My boyfriend and I were also planning to meet up next week. I flipped over to my messaging app. My last exchange with my online boyfriend, X, was from that evening. X: [Heading to the lab tonight. Don’t wait up for me.] It was pushing 10 PM. I sent a new message: [Babe, still busy?] [I just saw the most infuriating post!] He was probably tied up; no reply came for a while. I knew he couldn’t have his phone on him in the secure lab area, so I didn’t worry, just went back to the forum. In the time I was gone, Sawyer had posted several updates, each more vile than the last: [I swear, the pig-demon can’t go an hour without messaging. So irritating.] [I can’t look at her profile picture without feeling sick, let alone talk to her.] [Gotta go puke.] Most of the responses were happily feeding the drama. A few people spoke up for the girl, but Sawyer shot them down without mercy: [You feel so great? Then you date the pig.] [Did she apologize for looking like that and trying to date online? I’m being nice just by not screaming at her!] I scrolled past more suggestions and, feeling kind of disgusted, switched back to my chat with X. Still no reply. What was going on? He had never gone radio silent like this. Was he seriously planning to pull an all-nighter in the lab? 2 I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I sent X a quick ‘Goodnight’ and went to sleep. The first thing I did the next morning was check my phone. Still nothing. What in the world? Sawyer Reed’s thread, however, had a new, troubling update. I frowned at the top comment that Sawyer had highlighted: [This is easy. Just give the account and the girlfriend to someone you hate. Let the two annoying people cancel each other out!] Ugh, that was truly messed up. Sawyer’s response was immediate and enthusiastic: [Smart, bro! I hate my cousin, that total tool, so much. I’m doing it!] Sawyer had a cousin? I’d never heard of him. But their drama wasn’t my problem. My problem was still X not replying. I reread our messages from the night before. Nothing seemed off. He’d ordered me sushi earlier and then reported heading to the lab. So why the silence? Just as I was about to call, my phone vibrated. X: [Good morning, babe.] I instantly deflated with relief, but a little bit of hurt still came through: [Why didn’t you talk to me all night QAQ] X: [Sorry, babe. The lab was crazy busy.] It really was the lab. I relaxed completely: [Fine. I guess I’ll forgive you ╭(╯^╰)╮] X: [Don’t forgive me so fast. You can get mad at me more often, babe.] He was calling me ‘babe’ so much I actually blushed a little: [Why are you so sweet this morning?] X: [I miss you.] My face felt hot: [We talk every day. How can you miss me?] A few seconds of silence before the reply: [Incredibly missed.] [I want to see you so badly, babe.] He was so flirty today! A strange sense of dissonance fluttered in my stomach, but I couldn’t stop my heart from pounding. I quickly switched to another app to calm down. I’d been dating X online for nearly four months. Usually, he had this cool, slightly aloof vibe. He used ‘babe’ sometimes, but never this much sappy, clingy language. Something was off. Seriously off. Was he covering up something he did wrong? I immediately thought of Sawyer’s awful post from last night. The sudden rush of giddiness vanished, replaced by a stern suspicion: [You’re being weird. Confess. What good deed did you do?] He paused, then sent an audio message a few seconds later: “Busted, huh, babe? I bought you a cupcake. Looks like I’m derailing your diet plan again.” Hearing his voice, I felt a wave of comfort. He’d sent me voice notes before, but they were usually in a forced, low monotone. Not unpleasant, but nothing like this bright, melodic sound. I saved the clip and sent my own voice note back: “You’re acting weird today. Weird reactions, weird words, and your voice is even weird.” He replied quickly: “And do you hate this ‘weird,’ then?” 3 Of course not! I’m the kind of person who melts when someone is soft with me. I cleared my throat and pressed the voice button: “No, I don’t hate it. Keep it up.” He chuckled: “Okay, babe. Come downstairs and get your cupcake.” Cupcakes first thing in the morning? What a sin! I mentally chastised myself while jumping out of bed and rushing through my morning routine. “Liv, up so early today?” My roommate, Maya, raised an eyebrow. I grinned: “My boyfriend got me a cupcake. Need anything brought up? I’ll grab it.” Maya waved it off: “I can go myself.” I insisted: “You got my delivery yesterday. It’s my turn.” She stood up anyway: “Let’s go together. I use the stairs as my daily cardio.” She’d been on medication that caused her to gain some weight and was quietly trying to lose it. Since she said that, I didn’t push, and we went downstairs together. Deliveries were on shelves near the dorm entrance. It was early, so few people were there. I quickly found the cakes—two of them—and the note was clear: [One for my Little Deer, one for Little Deer’s roommate.] I stared at the note and laughed, shaking the box at Maya: “My boyfriend is treating everyone.” Maya took a look and let out a delighted shriek: “Thank you, Liv and her man! Is today a special anniversary? We’re so lucky to crash the party.” I was surprised too. X rarely sent me food, and almost never shared with Maya. Did he ace a lab result last night? Was he just ecstatic? I was about to message him when someone suddenly called my name: “Liv?” I looked up and froze: “Sawyer.” It was the Campus King. He walked over quickly, his gaze briefly, carelessly landing on Maya beside me. He wrinkled his nose in a flash of distaste. Then he saw the cakes in her hand, and I thought I saw a flicker of… Malicious delight? I didn’t like his look and cut him off: “Sawyer, what’s up?” Sawyer snapped out of it and cleared his throat: “Our club is having a big social event next weekend. It’s supposed to be fun. Want to come?” I frowned slightly. Didn’t Sawyer have a girlfriend? Why was he hitting on me? Wait. I remembered the forum post from that morning. Sawyer had given his account away to someone he hated. So, was he… single now? What a toxic way to become single. I immediately refused: “Sorry, Sawyer. I’m meeting my boyfriend next weekend. I don’t have time.” Sawyer’s expression tightened: “You have a boyfriend?” I held my patience: “Yes. We’ve been together for a while.” Ignoring his deepening frown, I grabbed Maya and walked away. “Liv, you seem really cold to Sawyer,” Maya murmured, nudging me conspiratorially. “Didn’t he have a huge crush on you? Didn’t he post about you on the confession page?” 4 Calling a few vague compliments “chasing” me? That was barely above a public nuisance. And since he was hitting on me while in an online relationship, it just confirmed his character was garbage. Back in the dorm, I took professional-quality photos of the two cakes and sent them all to X. [Thank you for the feast, Big Brother! Kiss~] X replied almost instantly, focusing on a strange point: [Big Brother?] I giggled and pressed the voice key: “Oops, slip of the tongue. Thank you for the feast, Boyfriend~” X: [Say it again.] I indulged him: “Boyfriend~” The other side was silent for a few seconds, then Cash App notifications started exploding on my phone. I watched the string of $52.00, $131.40, and $999.99 transfers and was shocked: [Have you lost it? Why are you sending me so much money?] Keep in mind, we’d been dating for months, and he’d only sent me money once, on my birthday—a five-dollar and a twenty-dollar transfer, a weird version of a 520 (I love you). X: [I’m so happy. My babe needs to be happy with me.] I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I was about to reply when he sent another message right after: [Babe, I want to come see you sooner. Can I?] My heart fluttered, and the corners of my mouth curved up: [How much sooner is ‘sooner’?] He sent a screenshot of a train ticket: Departure time this Saturday, destination my city. I noticed the booking time—6:03 AM this morning. He had bought the ticket the moment the booking site opened. I felt a rush of warmth and nervousness. I checked the passenger name: Kellan Stone. Hmm, a nice name. Seeing my delay in replying, he got anxious: [Babe?] [Is it too sudden?] [Maybe we should stick to next week. Don’t be mad…] How could I be mad?! I quickly typed back: [Not mad, just surprised.] [Come! I’ll pick you up at the station (p≧w≦q)] Kellan instantly relaxed, using my emoji style: [Yay! (^o^)/~] What a dork. I teased him in my head, but I couldn’t stop smiling. After thinking for a moment, I asked: [Should we exchange pictures first? So we don’t miss each other?] Kellan and I met playing an online game. We’d added each other on burner accounts, and neither of us had photos on our profiles. Kellan didn’t reply. Minutes ticked by, and I started to panic. Was he… hideous? After a long internal debate, I sent another message: [At least let me know your height? Narrow the search?] They say if a guy is six feet tall, he’ll let you know within three sentences. Kellan still didn’t respond. I felt a faint sense of dread rising. I could suddenly understand Sawyer Reed’s frustration! Just when I was about to give up and try a video call, my phone vibrated. Kellan finally replied.

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