Dinner was in full swing when my husband and my supposed best friend suddenly vanished. After a quick search, a flash of text appeared in my mind, like a live stream’s floating commentary: [OMG, thank goodness the Male Lead managed to grab the Female Lead and sprint from the restroom into the walk-in cooler, otherwise the Sidekick would have seen them!] [But they aren’t wearing clothes! They can’t hide in there for long, they’ll freeze to death!] I froze. So, my husband, Owen, was in the walk-in cooler, holding my best friend, Zara. And I was the “Sidekick.” I walked toward the cooler door, but the owner, Vivian, blocked my path. “Excuse me, ma’am. That’s for storing our ingredients. Guests aren’t allowed back here.” The Chat panicked. [Woah, good thing the Female Lead’s friend stopped the Sidekick, or they would have been found!] [It’s fine, it’s fine. As soon as the Sidekick leaves, they can come out!] The phrase “freeze to death” hit me like a physical blow. I changed my strategy. “I want to move to a table right here.” Vivian and The Chat were stunned. “What? Sit right here?” [WTF, Sidekick, what are you doing? How are our Male and Female Leads supposed to get out if you’re eating in the main hall?] 1 I pulled my gaze from the phantom text and forced back a cold smile. Are they all that surprised? Then I needed to eat well. Slowly. I owed that much to the pair currently holding each other close in the freezer. Vivian, the owner, I knew because I’d been here a few times. But I never suspected she was best friends with Zara. Now, she was acting as a shield for Zara and Owen. My face felt tight as I addressed her. “Why not, Vivian? The private dining room got a little stuffy. I want to move out here to the main dining room, and I’ll order another seafood platter and a bunch of other dishes. I couldn’t really eat much in there. Now I can feast. Besides the platter, I need two cases of beer. A dozen plates of Buffalo wings, 100 lamb skewers, 20 chicken sliders, 50 baked clams…” Vivian was briefly speechless. Hearing me order so much food, she automatically grabbed her order pad. While she was distracted, I quickly dialed my friends in the private room. “Everyone, come out. We’re moving to the big table. I just ordered a mountain of food and booze!” “Grab my purse and jacket on your way out.” I heard them cheer on the other end of the line. “Seriously? All that food? This is going to be an epic night!” “I know! I thought we were winding down, but Sienna just went out and added an entire feast. We have to eat it now!” “Let’s go, let’s go, hurry up!” When they emerged and sat down, I laughed. “Eat up! Nobody leaves until we’re stuffed!” 2 Vivian was dumbfounded. Clutching the menu, she didn’t know whether to kick us out or tell the kitchen to start cooking. She glanced anxiously at the cooler, then hesitated for a few seconds before trying to send us away. “I-I just realized we’re out of stock for all those items. We can’t fulfill your order. You should probably just leave for the night.” The Chat was quick to praise her. [The Female Lead’s friend is amazing! She’s not even worried about the money, just about saving the Female Lead!] [That order was easily over a thousand dollars. That’s true friendship!] [This Sidekick is pure evil. She’s trying to freeze our Male and Female Leads to death! Humph. Not happening!] [If the Sidekick and her people don’t leave, they really are in danger. Look, that cooler is 23 degrees Fahrenheit. They have no clothes. They won’t last an hour.] [Waaah, what do we do? I wish I could just rush in there and drag them out!] How Vivian must have wished she could, too. She desperately wanted us to leave. But we had already dragged out all the plates from the private room that we hadn’t finished. My friend Gabe immediately challenged Vivian. “Hold on, Vivian. That’s not cool. We haven’t even finished our first round, and you’re trying to kick us out? Plus, we’re adding to the bill. You’re a business owner, you can’t just turn away paying customers.” A flash of panic crossed Vivian’s face. “Don’t misunderstand, I’m not trying to rush you. We just genuinely ran out of those specific ingredients.” I stood up and pointed past her to the glass-fronted cooler, where rows of meat, seafood, and vegetables were neatly stacked, looking perfectly fresh. “Vivian, the dishes we ordered are clearly right there in your display case. How can you be out? Just get the kitchen to make them. I’ve called more people to join us, and they’ll probably order more.” Vivian was completely stiff. “What? More people are coming?” I held up my phone and smiled. “Yes, I called my mother-in-law and her two best friends. They absolutely love your food, and they’re all major gossip queens. Treat them well, and they’ll give your restaurant great publicity.” 3 Vivian turned to stone. So did The Chat: [HOLY CRAP, Sidekick, what are you doing? Why did you call the Male Lead’s mother? This is insane!] [Even though the Male Lead’s mother actually kind of likes the Female Lead, if she sees her cheating with her son and is humiliated in front of her friends, how can she ever agree to them being together?] [Exactly! She even told the Male Lead before that the Female Lead was ten times better than the Sidekick, but if she’s caught now, all that good image is ruined!] [Forget that! If the Sidekick and the others don’t leave, the Leads are going to freeze to death! Can’t you see them shivering? There’s ice forming on their faces!] [Oh my God, they look so pathetic. What do we do? I’m going crazy!] [Don’t worry. The Female Lead’s friend will fix this.] Is that so? I thought, a bitter smile catching in my throat. Can Vivian really fix this? I intended to wait and see exactly how she would. Vivian finally snapped out of it. Since the “running out of food” excuse was useless, she had to try another. “The kitchen just told me the propane ran out. We can’t light the stoves. If you still want to eat, you’ll have to go somewhere else.” Anger flared in me. I strode toward the kitchen entrance and saw the chefs still working, the line buzzing with activity. Just then, the restaurant’s audio system chimed. “Your online order has been automatically accepted.” I scoffed. “Vivian, you are acting so strange tonight. Why are you so desperately trying to drive us out?” “Do you have some kind of shameful secret you’re trying to hide? Your kitchen is clearly still busy, and I can see the backup gas tanks right there. This is a decent-sized restaurant; you wouldn’t run out of fuel. If you don’t give us a straight answer right now, we are not leaving. I’ve already recorded a video, and I’m ready to post it online and let everyone judge!” 4 Vivian looked like she was about to pass out. The Chat filled with angry emojis. [Damn it, I want to go in there and slap that Sidekick!] [Why is she picking a fight with the Female Lead’s friend? The Female Lead is already too cold to talk. If the Male Lead wasn’t holding her so tightly, she would have passed out already.] [It’s okay. If they survive this, this life-and-death ordeal will definitely make their relationship stronger and ensure their happily-ever-after.] Happily-ever-after? No. I absolutely wouldn’t allow that. My friends also started shouting about complaining and exposing Vivian’s behavior. Having no other choice, Vivian finally grabbed the menu and retreated to the kitchen. Watching her reluctant, defeated retreat gave me a surge of grim satisfaction. But it was immediately chased by pain and fury. I had been nothing but generous to Zara. When she was out of work, I got her a job at Owen’s company. When she needed a place to stay, I had Owen rent her a small apartment as a “company dorm.” I never left her out when we went out for fun. And this was her repayment? But it takes two. Owen was just as bad. He didn’t just sleep with someone in his own backyard; he did it right under the noses of all our friends. If they wanted a thrill, I’d give them a real thrill. I’ll keep them trapped inside that cooler tonight and see if they have the luck to make it out alive. “Sienna, you are unbelievable! You’re out here spending my son’s money on a massive dinner again, dragging all these people with you!” A furious voice suddenly broke my thoughts. I turned around to see my mother-in-law, Dolores, with her two friends. All three had overly coiffed blonde hair and caked-on, pale makeup, clearly believing they looked like socialites. In reality, with Owen’s net worth barely scraping into the low millions, the Owens were just ordinary in the upper circles—barely worth a second glance. Yet, Dolores always treated me like I wasn’t good enough because my family was only solidly middle-class. She constantly told me I spent Owen’s money, and any other woman would be a better wife. She hadn’t wanted to come until I mentioned the massive order. Then she rushed over, eager to “eat back” her son’s money. Ignoring her fury, I smiled warmly. “Mom, Brenda and Patrice are here, too? Come sit down! It’s not just me and my friends, Owen was here, but he stepped out for a minute.” 5 Dolores and the two Aunts sat down, their faces tight. My friends politely shifted to make room. Gabe, always the charmer, quickly poured them wine and grinned. “Auntie, Owen was with us! Don’t pick on Sienna. We’re all treating each other. No one’s taking advantage of anyone here.” Dolores’s expression softened slightly. She glanced at the table, and her face soured again. “Why are there only leftovers? Did you call us here to eat scraps?” Brenda sneered. “Are we that hungry, coming to eat leftovers?” I quickly explained. “I’ve already ordered a ton of new food, it’s coming right up. If there’s anything else you want, feel free to order it. My treat tonight—I’m paying for everything myself!” Patrice immediately put down her purse and walked straight to the display case to order. Dolores and Brenda exchanged a look and quickly followed suit. Vivian, clutching her order pad, looked completely defeated, jotting down every request, practically in tears. The Chat was also on the verge of crying. [Oh no, the Female Lead’s friend has completely run out of options… crying.jpg.] [The Female Lead can barely breathe now. The Male Lead is trying to give her mouth-to-mouth and hugging her tightly, but he’s shivering uncontrollably. His eyelashes are covered in ice. They won’t last much longer.] [If it were me, I’d get out immediately, embarrassment be damned.] [But he explicitly told the friend not to open the door unless they hammered on it. She hasn’t gotten the signal, so she won’t open it.] [The problem is they can’t even stand up now. How are they going to hammer on the door?] [Seriously, they should have just hidden in the kitchen instead of the freezer! Now they’re stuck!] [Are you dumb? The kitchen is packed with people! They didn’t have any clothes on! Why would they go there? I’d say the bathroom was better than the freezer.] [To the person above: that bathroom is gender-neutral. The Sidekick already checked the door. Even if she hadn’t, someone else would have. They’d be caught either way.] [Wait, speaking of that—their clothes are still in the bathroom!] Me: “???” Holy hell, that is juicy. I need to find an excuse to check the restroom. 6 Soon, the extra dishes we ordered began to arrive. Everyone ate heartily. Half an hour flew by with us all eating and drinking. Dolores and her friends were so focused on the food that only now did she suddenly remember her son. She looked at me. “We’ve been eating for half an hour. Where is my son?” I bit into a lamb skewer and shrugged. “I have no idea. He didn’t say.” The others looked up, confused. “We don’t know either. He just walked out without saying anything.” “Wait, where is Zara? She’s gone too!” I sighed dramatically. They were such foodies; only now did they notice Zara was also missing. I feigned confusion. “Oh, yeah, she’s gone. Maybe they went back to the office together?” Dolores picked up her phone and called Owen. It rang and rang, but no one answered. She exhaled in relief. “He’s probably busy and can’t answer. As long as the phone isn’t turned off, it means he’s fine.” Yes, as long as it wasn’t turned off, it meant he hadn’t been in a car accident or something similar. But she didn’t know that some accidents were far more fatal. Like right now, her beloved son was naked, wrapped around the girl she liked best, and freezing to death. Suddenly, she looked at me with deep dissatisfaction. “Sienna, what is wrong with you? Your own husband is missing, and you’re just sitting here eating and drinking! If it were Zara, she wouldn’t be like this. If Owen hadn’t eaten, she would be worried sick and rush home to make him soup. When he’s sick, Zara buys his medicine. She stays up late when he works overtime. And you? You just care about going out and having fun! I’ve never seen you bring him food or show concern! Just like now, you don’t even know where my son is!” “How wonderful it would be if Zara were my daughter-in-law. She’s competent at work, she’s good to my son, and she helps with everything inside and outside the home.” 7 I was stunned, my mind blank. She was tearing me down and praising Zara in front of all these people, without a shred of concern for my dignity. My face went cold. “Mom, is that really what you think? I have brought Owen food. You have seen me go with him to the doctor. Where have I been only caring about fun?” “I have been running myself ragged out there, landing one big account after another for his company. I was so busy, in fact, that I didn’t even realize when my best friend crawled into my husband’s bed.” “I really should thank you, Mom. You’re telling me things I didn’t even know. I didn’t know they had progressed this far. You’ve already given them your blessing.” Dolores saw everyone at the table staring at her, their expressions openly excited for the gossip. Her face went pale as she instantly realized what she had said. She scrambled to cover it up. “No! I didn’t mean that! What I meant was, you just aren’t as good as Zara! There’s nothing sordid going on between them! She’s always been respectful to me. She would never dare ruin my son’s marriage and make him a laughingstock!” The more she explained, the worse she made it. Everyone was desperately trying to suppress their laughter. I just looked at her, my expression icy. I was intentionally fighting with her to stall for time. No matter how much she tried to smear me, I would keep the argument going. The Chat was furious. [What in God’s name is this old woman thinking? Who would talk about their daughter-in-law like this in front of strangers? I actually feel kind of sorry for the Sidekick.] [Seriously! She’s practically admitting her son is too close to another woman while married. Is she out of her mind?] [She’s throwing the Female Lead right under the bus! Unbelievable.] [The old woman is still arguing! The Female Lead isn’t moving much anymore. The Male Lead’s consciousness is fading. If they don’t get out soon, they will really die!] Hmm? They’re really close to dying? That means they haven’t died yet. With that thought, I launched another volley at Dolores. “Mom, your explanations are useless now. Even if Zara is my friend, and I brought her into the company, if she did something like this with Owen, that’s crossing a line! Stop defending them. If you like her so much as a daughter-in-law, when they come back, I’ll tell Owen I want a divorce and let her have your son!” It was then that my friend Rory spoke up hesitantly. “Uh, you guys said they both disappeared at the same time. Do you think they went to…?” 8 The moment she stopped speaking, everyone else immediately understood. “They went to a hotel room?” “No way, are they that brazen?” “We’re all right here eating! They snuck out to get a room? That’s so unfair to Sienna!” “It is! That’s disgusting. I’ve never heard of anything like that.” “I read a story once—a guy went out to get cigarettes while out to dinner with his girlfriend and managed to hook up with someone in the parking lot. There are no new stories under the sun, folks.” Dolores and the Aunts heard all the murmuring. But only Dolores was angry; Brenda and Patrice were strangely excited. Dolores often bragged to them about how excellent and capable Owen was. If he was humiliated, it would be a treat for them! Brenda pretended to be upset and scolded them. “Stop talking nonsense. We watched Owen grow up. He is a decent, moral man. He wouldn’t be sleeping around.” Patrice, her eyes wide, chimed in, “Exactly! Just wait until they get back. You’ll see, they won’t come back together!” The whispering died out. The air went dead silent. Rory took the opportunity to stand up and break the tension. “I need to use the restroom.” The Chat went ballistic. [AAAHH, HOLY COW, someone went to the restroom! It’s over! Their clothes are still in there!] [I knew it! They are going to be discovered now!] [Where is the restaurant owner? Why didn’t she hide the clothes?] [She couldn’t hide anything! Can’t you see she’s running around like a headless chicken? She completely forgot the Male and Female Leads are still in the freezer!] I curled my lips into a cold smile, watching Rory disappear through the restroom door. There were three stalls inside. Would she see them? I started a silent countdown. A few seconds later, a piercing scream echoed from the restroom!

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I was born chill. When my younger siblings fought over milk, I sat calmly on the side. Live or die, whatever. When we grew up, my sister snatched the “better” marriage proposal first, leaving me to marry the allegedly bankrupt heir, Adrian Sterling. I nodded. “Okay.” Marriage is marriage. As long as he’s human, I’m good. Later, Adrian staged a comeback and became the richest man in the city, the envy of everyone. My sister came to me, hoping to swap husbands so she could be Mrs. Sterling. Just as I was about to nod and agree, Adrian stepped forward and covered my mouth. “That’s not happening.” Me: “It could happen.” Adrian: “It really, really can’t.” 1 From the moment I can remember, I never fought for anything. When we were kids, if my brother and sister brawled over the last bottle of juice, I just watched. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it. I just felt that getting it was fine, and not getting it was also fine. It’s just juice. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Mom always said I had no temper. Dad said my “go with the flow” attitude was heartbreaking. But they soon realized my personality was actually quite convenient. Since I didn’t fight for anything, they could just give the best stuff to my siblings. Gradually, “heartbreaking” became “matter of course.” The best room went to my sister, Bella, because “girls need to be pampered.” The expensive private tutors went to my brother, because “boys need to succeed.” As for me, Jane, I got the smallest north-facing room and went to public school. “Jane is the most sensible. She won’t mind,” Mom said every time. I really didn’t mind. I didn’t take it to heart at all. At twenty-three, I graduated and got a clerical job at a standard company with an average salary. My life was ripple-free. Bella, two years younger, had just returned from studying abroad and was waiting to be married off. That night, our parents called us to the living room. Two portfolios lay on the coffee table. Dad cleared his throat. “You’re both at the age to marry. These two young men are suitable candidates.” I picked up one. Adrian Sterling, 28, heir to Sterling Group. The man in the photo had sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, an outstanding aura. The file noted: Sterling Group has recently suffered from mismanagement and has filed for bankruptcy restructuring. The other was Liam Cole, the only son of the wealthy Cole family. Solid foundation, assets in the billions. “Bella picks first,” Mom said, looking at my sister as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Bella didn’t even glance at Adrian’s file. She grabbed Liam’s immediately. “I want the Cole family.” She turned to me, eyes gleamed with triumph and entitlement. “Jane, you marry Adrian. You’re not picky anyway.” I looked at Adrian’s photo and nodded. “Okay.” Mom let out a sigh of relief. “Jane is so sensible. Although Adrian is down on his luck, he’s still a Sterling. He’s more than good enough for you.” Dad nodded too. “It’s settled then.” I closed the file without a word. Marriage is marriage. It’s just living life. Besides, truthfully, the man in the photo was quite handsome. 2 From that day on, the house was in wedding mode. Bella’s wedding was set for three months later—fifty tables at the city’s finest five-star hotel. Mom was busy every day picking dresses, jewelry, and decor, spinning like a top. My wedding was set for a week after Bella’s—ten tables at a regular restaurant. Mom said, “Since the Sterling family doesn’t have many people left, let’s keep it simple.” I nodded. “Okay.” Then came the dowry preparation. Truckloads of goods moved out for Bella: designer bags, jewelry, antique vases, mahogany furniture sets, the latest appliances, and a check for $500,000 Mom prepared specifically for her. “If the dowry is light, the Cole family will look down on us,” Mom said while directing the movers. “We can’t lose face.” For me, Mom prepared two suitcases: one for clothes, one for daily necessities, and a modest set of silver jewelry. I looked at the two thin suitcases and said nothing. Mom probably felt a twinge of guilt and explained: “Jane, you’re marrying a bankrupt man. Adrian has nothing now. It’s his blessing to marry you at all; he wouldn’t dare complain about a small dowry. He should be grateful.” Dad added, “Your sister is different. The Coles are old money; we can’t let them underestimate us. You should understand.” “I know.” Growing up, Bella got the best because she had to marry well. It didn’t matter for me, because I didn’t care. Caring was useless. This logic had run smoothly in our family for over twenty years, like a precise machine. The night before the wedding, Bella came to my room, leaning against the doorframe as I packed. “Jane, don’t you feel shortchanged?” she asked. “Shortchanged how?” I folded clothes without looking up. “Marrying a bankrupt guy,” she smirked. “I couldn’t handle it.” “You don’t have to. You’re marrying Liam.” “True,” she nodded with satisfaction. “But don’t be too sad. I heard Adrian is a decent guy, at least he won’t treat you badly. Besides, with your personality, it doesn’t matter who you marry.” I looked up at her. “You’re right.” She paused, probably surprised by my calmness, found it boring, shrugged, and left. I continued packing, thinking: I’m getting married tomorrow. Marrying a man I’ve never met, starting a completely strange life. Sounds kind of interesting. 3 It drizzled on my wedding day. Bella’s wedding a week ago was star-studded and lively. I went to help, watching her in a six-figure gown, wearing the family jade heirloom, holding Liam’s arm, face full of happiness. For my wedding, hardly anyone came. Only a few distant relatives from the Sterling side showed up. My side of the family said they weren’t feeling well and didn’t come. Only a few colleagues I got along with came to support me. I wore the dress Mom prepared—a simple white dress, no veil. The makeup artist was recommended by the restaurant owner, average skills, gave me a light look. I looked in the mirror and thought I looked pretty good. The ceremony was simple. No MC, no flower girl, no complex procedures. Adrian and I exchanged rings under the witness of friends and family—simple silver rings, probably a few hundred dollars. I saw Adrian in person for the first time. He was taller and thinner than in the photo. He wore a suit that had been washed until it was slightly faded, but his tie was meticulous, his hair neat. There was awkwardness in his eyes, but he tried hard to maintain his dignity. His look was complex—apologetic, yet inquiring. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as we exchanged rings. “For making you marry someone like me.” I looked at him. This man had beautiful eyes; even in poverty, his inherent grace couldn’t be hidden. “It’s okay. I don’t care anyway.” He paused, then chuckled softly, a smile mixed with indescribable bitterness. After the brief ceremony, we cut the cake, toasted, and collected the few red envelopes. Then Adrian said to me, “Let’s go home.” Home. The word sounded a bit unfamiliar. 4 Our new home was an old apartment on the outskirts of the city, sixth floor, no elevator. Adrian carried my two thin suitcases up step by step. I followed, listening to his heavy footsteps. He looked back at me, guilt in his eyes. “Sorry for making you live in a place like this.” I looked around. “It’s fine. At least it’s quiet.” He smiled and opened the door. The apartment was small, about 600 square feet, one bedroom. But it was very clean. Simple furniture, clean curtains, freshly washed sheets drying on the balcony. “I spent yesterday cleaning,” he said shyly. “Hope you can get used to it.” I looked at this small space and felt it was cozy. “I will.” He put the suitcases in the bedroom, then took a stack of crumpled bills from his pocket and placed them in my hand. “This is everything I have right now.” “$3,000. I’m starting as a delivery driver tomorrow. I should be able to make some money. I’ll support you.” I took the bills, still warm from his hand. They were smoothed out carefully. Old, but clean. “You keep this money. If you give it all to me, what if you need cash while you’re out working?” I pushed the money back, my gaze frank, without a shred of disdain. “You don’t despise me?” He asked, eyes holding a cautious hope. “No. As long as we can survive.” A complex emotion flashed in his eyes, turning into a light sigh. “You… you really are…” He didn’t finish, but I knew what he meant. Probably thought I was too easy to fool. That night, we had a simple dinner. He cooked noodles with two eggs. “I’m not a good cook, just make do.” “It’s tasty.” I genuinely thought so. The plain noodles tasted like home. After dinner, he volunteered to wash the dishes. I sat on the sofa, watching his busy back in the kitchen, and suddenly felt that this life wasn’t bad. At bedtime, he gentlemanly offered to sleep on the sofa. “It’s okay, the bed is big enough. Let’s sleep together.” My understanding of “sleeping together” was literally just closing eyes and sleeping. He hesitated for a long time but chose the sofa. “Let’s wait until you’re used to it.” Lying in bed, seeing his figure curled up on the sofa through the half-open door, I felt something indescribable. This man seemed better than I imagined.

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My coworker, Maya, found a stray dog outside our office building and decided to bring it inside. It was a scruffy little thing, but it had a nasty snarl and bared its teeth at anyone who came close. I tried to be the voice of reason. “Maya, this is an office,” I said gently. “Maybe you should let it go.” She shot me a look of pure venom, accusing me of having no heart. Then she and her two little friends launched a campaign, telling everyone in our small office how cold-blooded I was. It all came to a head when her precious stray wandered into the boss’s office and mauled his wife. Five days later, she was dead from rabies. The story blew up. The office was in chaos. And in the midst of it all, Maya and her cronies pointed their fingers at me, swearing up and down that the dog was mine. I was dragged away by the boss and his men, thrown into a dark room filled with vicious, barking dogs. They tore at my flesh, their teeth ripping me apart until I finally choked on my own blood, my heart filled with a burning hatred. Then I opened my eyes. And I was right back on that day, watching Maya walk into the office, cradling that snarling mutt in her arms. 1 “Look at him! Isn’t he the cutest thing? We should totally keep him in the office!” Maya cooed, hugging the little dog to her chest. Her two loyal sidekicks, Leah and Chloe, immediately rushed over, making goo-goo eyes at the creature. The dog just bared its teeth, a low growl rumbling in its chest. It looked anything but cute; it looked feral. I watched from a distance, my face a cold mask. There were only four of us in our section. Maya came from money, and to make matters worse, her uncle was our department head. Leah and Chloe knew which side their bread was buttered on, so they stuck to Maya like glue. In my last life, it was those three who ganged up on me, who created the lie that sealed my fate. It was their word against mine, and my furious boss didn’t even bother to ask questions. He just had me taken away, left to be ripped to shreds by a pack of wild animals. The memory of that agony, the feeling of my skin tearing, was still seared into my soul. As I watched them fawn over the mutt, my mind wasn’t on them. It was on survival. I discreetly pulled out my phone, hit ‘record’ on the video camera, and called out to her. “Maya, that’s a stray, isn’t it? I really think you should get rid of it. You have no idea what diseases it could be carrying.” All three of them whipped their heads around to glare at me. “Claire, have you got no heart?” Maya shrieked, pointing an accusing finger. “Look at this poor, adorable thing! How could we let him wander the streets alone? What if something happened to him? Could you live with that?” “How could you be so cruel as to even suggest it?” Chloe chimed in. “Seriously, Claire. You’re really cold,” Leah added, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “I never knew you were this kind of person, Claire.” I held my ground, my voice calm and steady despite the storm brewing inside me. “This is a place of business. People are coming and going all day. What if it bites someone?” “Look at this sweet face! He would never bite anyone!” Maya insisted. “And even if he did, my family has plenty of money. You think I can’t afford to pay for a little bite?” Leah immediately backed her up. “Exactly! Maya’s family is rich. Not like you. It’s bad enough you’re broke, but do you have to be so heartless too?” “Besides, Claire,” Chloe said, crossing her arms, “there are four of us here, and three of us want to keep him. Your opinion doesn’t count.” It was a pathetic attempt to curry favor with Maya, but it was their go-to move. “Shouldn’t you at least get a cage for him, then? Or a leash?” I suggested, feigning concern. I already knew what their answer would be. As expected, they erupted. A leash would restrict his freedom! Dogs have rights, you know! Don’t be so cruel! The way they looked at me, you would have thought I’d just insulted their mothers. I let them rant, and when they finally wound down, I simply nodded. “Fine. He’s your dog. You deal with him. I’m staying out of it.” Then, I quietly uploaded the video I’d been recording to a public social media account. The dog would bite the boss’s wife in three days. For the next three days, I would document everything. And this time, when the accusations started flying, I would have proof. 2 By that evening, my video had already started to gain some traction. I scrolled through the comments, a grim smile on my face. Most of them were trashing me. This woman is pure evil. It’s a tiny puppy, what’s her problem? She’s the one who should be kicked out of the office, not that adorable dog! Some people are just monsters. How can she not feel any compassion? A few even wished I’d drop dead. But the rising tide of hate didn’t bother me. In fact, it was exactly what I wanted. The next day, I filmed Maya and her friends again, this time showing them feeding the dog bits of their lunch under their desks. I posted it with a simple caption: Is it really appropriate to keep a stray dog in a professional office? What if it bites someone? The floodgates of outrage opened once more. She’s so toxic! That puppy hasn’t done anything to her! Dogs are the most loving creatures on earth! Maybe if YOU were a better person, you wouldn’t be so afraid of it! What a witch. I hope she gets fired. Dogs are our best friends! They can sense evil. If a dog doesn’t like you, you’re the problem! The comments were ridiculous, but the more the videos spread, the safer I felt. Let them call me whatever they wanted. I was building an airtight alibi, one post at a time. On the morning of the third day, I walked into the office to find Maya, Leah, and Chloe in a full-blown panic. They were tearing the place apart, searching for something. The dog was gone. “Claire! Did you hide Sparky?” Maya demanded, rushing toward me. Sparky was the ridiculously generic name she’d given the mutt. “Of course not,” I said, pretending to be engrossed in my phone while secretly turning on the camera again. I looked up at her. “You can’t even keep track of your own dog?” “What if he’s out there somewhere? What if he bites someone?” I asked, my voice laced with manufactured concern. “This is exactly what I was worried about. An office is a public space, Maya. It’s not a kennel.” “I knew it! You hated Sparky from the start! You did something to him, you vile woman!” Maya was practically screaming, her face red with rage. “Think about it, Maya,” I said calmly. “I was the first one to leave yesterday, and I was the last to arrive this morning. When would I have had time to hide your dog? And besides, it’s a stray. I wouldn’t touch that thing.” “There are security cameras in the hallway. Go check for yourself.” My logic only seemed to make her angrier. “I can’t believe how cold you are, Claire! Sparky is missing, and you can still say things like that! You’re not even human!” She stormed off toward the security office, and I followed close behind. The footage showed it clearly: sometime in the middle of the night, the little dog had slipped out of our office and trotted down the hall. I held up my phone, recorded the monitor, and posted the clip online. I knew I was about to be buried under another avalanche of hate, but I didn’t care. The show was about to begin. 3 As predicted, the comment section of my latest video was a cesspool of vitriol. People called me heartless. A so-called “animal rescue” group even threatened to find me and “teach me a lesson.” This woman is a monster. What did that sweet puppy ever do to her? It’s a living creature! She has no soul! I ignored it all and followed Maya and her crew as they began a frantic, company-wide search for the dog. I knew exactly where it was. It was in the boss’s office, and his wife would be arriving any minute. I trailed them, my phone recording their every move. I wasn’t in any hurry. Leah and Chloe were calling out “Sparky! Oh, Sparky!” with such panicked desperation, you’d think they’d lost their own child, not some mangy stray. I rolled my eyes and kept filming. Soon enough, we were near the executive suites at the end of the hall. Suddenly, we heard a sharp bark. The faces of the three stooges lit up. They followed the sound until they stood before the CEO’s office. Their excitement quickly faded into nervousness. This was the boss’s territory; they couldn’t just barge in. Maya’s head snapped around, her eyes landing on me. “Claire, this is partially your fault. You go in and get Sparky.” “My fault? How is this my fault?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Because of you!” she snapped. “We were so good to him, and you were nasty every single day! Your bad attitude probably scared him, and that’s why he ran away!” Her logic was so twisted it was almost impressive. “So, you need to go in there and make him like you again. Go on, bring him out and give him a nice cuddle. Then he’ll see you’re not so bad!” I just stared at her, speechless. The sheer audacity was breathtaking. When I didn’t move, she got agitated. “Claire, what are you waiting for? Go!” “Yeah, Claire, it’s your responsibility,” Leah chimed in. “If you don’t, we’re not going to be friends with you anymore!” “Oh no, please don’t,” I deadpanned. “Whatever will I do?” “You are unbelievable, Claire!” Maya shrieked, her face turning crimson. All three of them started railing against me again, calling me heartless, cruel, a monster. “If you’re so full of love and compassion,” I shot back, “why don’t you go get him yourself?” Just then, a woman’s terrified scream echoed from inside the office. I knew what was happening. The boss’s wife was being attacked. The color drained from their faces. Maya shot me one last hateful glare. “You’re a horrible person, Claire! Fine, I’ll get him myself!” She threw the door open and rushed inside. I followed right behind her, my phone held high. “AHHH!” The moment the door opened, the scream intensified into a sound of pure agony. My camera caught it all. The boss’s wife was on the floor, the little stray latched onto her calf, shaking its head violently. A chunk of flesh was already torn away, leaving a gory, bloody mess. Maya froze, her eyes wide with horror. She didn’t dare take a step closer. Leah and Chloe stood behind her, mouths agape, utterly silent. They were paralyzed by the horrific scene. “What the hell is going on?” a deep voice boomed from behind us. I turned to see our boss. It was him. The man from my nightmares. The man who had me thrown to the dogs, his face twisted in a cold, merciless snarl. A shiver of pure, primal fear shot down my spine. The terror was so real, so visceral, I had to fight to keep my composure. He shoved past us, his eyes locking on the scene. When he saw the dog savaging his wife, he didn’t hesitate. He drew back his foot and kicked the dog with brutal force. The mutt flew like a soccer ball, slamming into the far wall with a sickening thud. It lay there, whining pitifully, too broken to even try to stand. The boss stalked over and delivered two more vicious kicks. The dog let out one last, choked whimper and went still. 4 In my past life, I only knew that the boss had carried the dog’s corpse from office to office, demanding to know who owned it. This time, I’d witnessed the execution firsthand. The sheer violence of it left Maya and her friends trembling in fear. “Whose dog is this?” he roared, his voice thick with rage as he knelt beside his wife. “Why is there a dog in my company?” He turned to his wife, his voice softening slightly. “I’m getting you to a hospital.” She was pale as a ghost. She nodded weakly as someone helped her out. I knew it was pointless. The bite had sealed her fate. When she was gone, the boss turned back to us, his eyes dark and menacing. “Was it your dog?” This was it. The moment of truth. In my last life, this was when Maya threw me under the bus without a second thought. It was when he slapped me so hard I saw stars. It was the beginning of five days of hell that ended with me being eaten alive. But this life was different. This time, I had my armor. Let them try to frame me. “No! It wasn’t ours!” Maya blurted out, her face as white as a sheet. She immediately pointed a trembling finger at me. “It’s Claire’s! Claire brought the dog to the office!” Her voice was shrill, desperate. “We told her not to, sir! We told her it was against the rules to have a dog here, but she wouldn’t listen! She even yelled at us for trying to help!” Leah and Chloe nodded frantically beside her, their faces masks of phony earnestness. I watched them, a profound sense of disgust washing over me. But what happened next still shocked me. Before I could even form a sentence, a hand cracked across my face. The force of the blow sent me stumbling backward, my head ringing. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and for a second, the world went blurry. I planted my feet, steadying myself, and slowly turned my head to face him. His face was a thundercloud of pure rage. “What do you think this company is? A damn kennel?” he snarled. “If anything happens to my wife, I’ll kill you.” The injustice of it was staggering. “Sir, that dog wasn’t mine,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “And I have proof.” I reached for my phone, ready to show him everything. “Claire, what are you doing?” Maya shrieked, lunging for my phone. But the boss was faster. He grabbed her arm, his grip like iron, and pushed her away. He stared at me, his eyes narrowed. “Proof?”

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My husband’s old flame, Ava, posted an ultrasound photo on her Instagram. The caption read: A huge thank you to my dear ‘brother’ for lending me… well, you know… when I needed it most. I can finally have a baby of my own. I silently liked the post and left a comment: “Congratulations, you two.” The comment was up for less than a second before my husband, Scott, called. He roared into the phone, “I just gave her my sperm, Jenny! Can you stop making a big deal out of nothing?” I quietly hung up. It was time for a divorce. 1 My hand rested on my slightly rounded belly. I took a deep breath, preparing to tell the tiny life inside me that I was sorry, that I couldn’t keep it. But as the words formed, a sob caught in my throat. This baby was supposed to be my surprise for Scott’s birthday. Now, it was clear he didn’t need another one. I was two months pregnant. It was a child I had to beg Scott for. He never liked being intimate with me, and he certainly didn’t like kids. He’d always say they were wild, noisy, and a drain on your energy. Lately, though, I’d seen him researching what you need for a new baby. He’d even stayed up late creating two detailed spreadsheets: one for an expectant mother’s needs, and another for the newborn. Like a fool, I thought he’d found out about my pregnancy and was preparing for us. Now I knew the truth. None of it was for me. Scott came home unusually early tonight. I glanced at the clock—only 8 p.m. Normally, he wouldn’t stumble in until after midnight. He called my name, but I stayed silent in the bedroom. He didn’t call again. A few moments later, the sound of the shower started. When he was done, he slipped into the bedroom without turning on the light and quietly lay down beside me. A warm tingle spread from my waist as he wrapped an arm around me—the first time he had ever initiated contact like this. He buried his face in my neck, his voice a placating murmur. “Jenny, I swear nothing happened between us. I was just helping her fulfill a dream. Ava has always wanted a child. I promise, as soon as the baby is born, I’ll cut all ties with her.” I said nothing. I just lifted his hand off my waist and shifted away. Sensing my rejection, his tone instantly hardened. “I’m already humbling myself for you, what more do you want? Don’t forget, you were the one who said you didn’t care about my past. You just wanted to be with me.” His voice rose, thick with indignation. “Can you stop being so jealous? I could have kept this from you, but I told you out of respect. And this is how you repay me? You’re a real disappointment.” He let it all out, a torrent of resentment, before delivering the final blow. “You should think about how good I’ve been to you lately. You wanted a baby, and I did my best to give you one. I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” The door slammed shut. A bitter laugh escaped my lips—a laugh for my pathetic marriage, for my own blindness. In his eyes, apologizing to me was a favor. A gift I was expected to accept graciously, otherwise I was the jealous shrew he accused me of being. But he could only treat me this way because I had loved him so desperately, for so long. So maybe, in the end, I deserved this. 2 Scott was gone by the time I woke up. I knew exactly where he was. These past few days, he’d been leaving early and coming home late. His assistant, Sarah, had called my phone several times looking for him, saying he hadn’t been to the office at all recently. Putting it all together, there was only one conclusion: he was taking care of Ava. I booked an appointment and took a cab to the clinic. The procedure was quick. Ten minutes later, I was being wheeled out. As fate would have it, while I was at the front desk settling the bill, I ran into Scott. He had his arm around Ava’s shoulder, and his brow furrowed when he saw me. “Are you following me?” I ignored him and looked straight at Ava. She averted her gaze, then playfully tugged on Scott’s ear with a fake pout. “Don’t talk like that! Why would Jenny follow us? We have nothing to hide. It’s not like she doesn’t understand.” Her words were a masterclass in manipulation, neatly tossing the problem back to me. All I could do was force a smile. “Of course. Your prenatal appointment is your business. Why would I follow you?” My directness seemed to anger Scott. He shoved me. “What’s that supposed to mean? I only see Ava as a big sister.” My body was still weak from the procedure. The push sent me stumbling to the ground. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, and I let out a pained hiss. Ava immediately knelt down to help me up, scolding Scott under her breath. But as she leaned in, her expression twisted into a triumphant, provocative smirk meant only for me. Disgusted, I pushed her away and tried to use the wall to pull myself up. But instead of helping, she plopped right down on the floor beside me and started wailing, clutching her stomach. “My baby! I think something’s wrong with my baby!” Scott rushed to her side, scooping her up into his arms. He turned and glared at me, his voice a low growl. “If anything happens to Ava, I will never forgive you.” A cold sweat broke out across my body as I watched my husband carry another woman away, leaving me crumpled on the floor without a second glance. In that moment, I was more certain than ever that I’d made the right decision. A man who couldn’t even love his own wife would never be able to love her child. Back home, I opened my phone, thinking about posting something, only to see a new picture from Ava. It was a shot of Scott’s back. The caption read: Feeling so safe and loved with a man like this in my life. The comments were all from Scott’s closest friends. Carter: “That back doesn’t look like your husband’s… lol.” Matt: “Attaboy, Scott! Knew you’d win the goddess back.” Leo: “Ooooh, I get it now. So the ‘donation’ came from this guy. Congrats, congrats!” A second later, Scott’s own comment appeared. “Don’t talk nonsense. I was just helping out. Are you guys trying to get my wife to divorce me?” His friends immediately fell in line. “Got it.” “Roger that.” But Carter added one more comment. “Who cares? What’s the point of having a petty, insecure wife anyway? You’d be better off without her. You’ve been hung up on Ava for years, everyone knows it. Why not just follow your heart?” Carter was Scott’s best friend since childhood. He’d never liked me, always thinking I wasn’t good enough for Scott, and certainly no match for Ava. According to him, I wasn’t as beautiful, as feminine, or as understanding as Ava. In his eyes, I was nothing compared to her. For Scott’s sake, I had always bitten my tongue. But now that my marriage was shattered, I had no reason to protect anyone’s feelings. I replied directly to Carter’s comment: “It’s happening soon. Thanks for worrying about him all these years.” Then, I went to my own profile. I chose two images: the ultrasound confirming my pregnancy, and the medical report from my procedure today. The caption was simple: “Finally free.” 3 The post went live, and my phone immediately blew up with likes and comments. Not a single one was from Scott’s friends. They were all pretending they hadn’t seen it. I bet they were on the phone with Scott right now, celebrating. Soon, the calls started flooding in. My parents. Scott’s parents. And Scott, calling again and again. I didn’t answer any of them. I just sent a text to my parents. I’m coming home today. I’ll explain when I get there. I packed quickly. As I was leaving, Scott’s car screeched into the driveway. He stormed out of the car and marched towards me, his face a mask of fury. “Jenny, what the hell is this? You got rid of our child over a single sperm donation?” He grabbed my arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” His questions made me sick, but there was no point in arguing anymore. I ignored his rage, pulled my suitcase down the steps, and headed for the gate. He yanked me back, his grip like iron. “Is this fun for you? I told you I’d cut things off with her after the baby was born! I’ve compromised so much for you, and you’re still pushing me like this?” His shameless words echoed in my ears. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I slapped him, hard, across the face. “Don’t you dare pretend you’re ruining your ‘pure’ relationship on my account. Carter was right. You should follow your heart.” My voice was dripping with scorn. “What do you need a petty woman like me for? Go find someone who’s ‘understanding’ enough for you.” “The divorce papers are in your email. Sign them.” With a final surge of strength, I ripped my arm from his grasp, opened the gate, and walked away. Behind me, I heard his helpless roar. “You’ll regret this!” How could I possibly regret this? I should be thanking him. His latest stunt finally opened my eyes. My life would only be better without him. When I got to my parents’ house, they rushed to my side, demanding to know what happened. My mother’s eyes were red and puffy; she’d obviously been crying. I told them everything about Scott and the baby. My mom pulled me into a tight hug, her voice cracking. “I told you from the start he was bad news.” My dad was silent for a moment before saying, “Good riddance.” My own composure finally broke. I buried my face in my mother’s shoulder and sobbed. They had never approved of Scott. They’d always said there was no love for me in his eyes. But I had chased him for seven years, and when he finally agreed to date me, I was ecstatic. I ignored everyone’s warnings, convinced I could make him fall in love with me. Clearly, I had failed. After a decade of my life, it had all come to this. You can’t force happiness. I had learned that lesson with ten years of my youth. I waited. Days passed, and Scott still hadn’t signed the papers. Finally, I told him I was taking him to court. That got a response. A reluctant text message. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. We’ll have dinner, get Carter and the guys to apologize to you. Can we please stop this drama? I’m so exhausted, Jenny. I’m torn between you and Ava, and there’s no easy solution.” He followed it up with another. “I’m sorry. But can’t you try to understand my position? I told you I’d see her less, but she’s pregnant now. She needs someone to take care of her, especially with her husband gone.” 4 He claimed he was torn between me and Ava, but his actions had already proven, time and time again, who he would always choose. On our wedding day, he left me at our own reception to comfort Ava after she had a fight with her husband. On our anniversary, he abandoned our dinner plans to sit with Ava because she was afraid of a thunderstorm. On my birthday, he was out celebrating Ava’s promotion. Every holiday, he would buy two identical gifts—one for me, one for her—as if that made his betrayal fair. I complained, I cried, I begged him to stop. He would always promise it wouldn’t happen again, only to break that promise the next time. Eventually, if I pushed too hard, he’d call me petty and insecure. Looking back, the only truly happy memory I had with him was the day he proposed. He had planned so many surprises. The proposal itself took place on Starlight Peak, over ten thousand feet up, where the stars felt so close you could almost touch them. Under that vast, glittering canopy, he got down on one knee and slid a sparkling ring onto my finger. His eyes were sincere, burning with an intensity I’d never seen before, and his vows were a torrent of passionate promises. That was the only time he had ever been truly serious about me. It was a ceremony he had planned for months, a moment that was just for the two of us. When I didn’t reply to his text, Scott called. “Ava… I’ve already booked the restaurant. We’ll all get together and make it up to you, okay? Just stop this.” He had called me by her name. I replied coolly, “Is Ava going to be there?” “Yes.” “Fine. Come get me tomorrow.” If they wanted to apologize, why should I be the only one to hear it? When Scott arrived the next day, Ava was in the passenger seat. She offered me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Jenny, I get terrible car sickness. I have to sit up front.” “It’s fine,” I said, my own smile just as fake. The old me would have been stewing in resentment, but now, nothing they did could touch me. It was a funny thing: the passenger seat of Scott’s car was always reserved for her. Yet, she never seemed to get car sick when riding with anyone else. When we got to the restaurant, Scott’s friends were already there. Carter was the first to greet me, pulling me into the seat beside him. “Here, Jenny, sit next to me. I’ve got a big apology coming your way.” His tone held no remorse, only a faint trace of a threat. Once we were all seated, Carter poured me a glass of wine. “First, I’m going to down one myself as punishment.” He threw back his glass, then turned to me. “Jenny, I’m a blunt guy, you know that. Don’t take it personally. It’s true, I don’t think you’re good enough for my boy. But what can I do? He still wants to be with you, so for his sake…” He paused, a smirk playing on his lips. “I sincerely apologize.” He poured himself another glass. “I’ll take another. I was out of line the other day. I’m sorry.” As soon as he finished, Scott’s other friends mumbled their own apologies. Seeing the tension ease, Scott tried to smooth things over, telling everyone to eat. But Ava stood up, holding a glass of juice. She looked at me, her face a mask of sympathy. “Jenny, I need to apologize, too. Scott’s feelings for me run so deep… I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer because of it.” Before she could continue, Scott quickly pulled her back into her seat. “You did nothing wrong. You don’t need to apologize.” Then, he turned to me, his expression serious. “I’m sorry, Jenny. It was my fault. I didn’t handle this situation well.” “It’s okay,” I said, my voice calm. “But there’s someone else who’d like to hear you two apologize to him.” Just as I finished speaking, the private room door swung open, and a man in a sharp suit walked in.

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When my little sister was born, Mom and Dad asked if I liked her. I shouted, “Yes! But I love you most!” They laughed, hugged me, and said they loved me most too. I grinned, covered my sister’s ears, and declared, “Then I’ll just love her a little extra, so we all get equal love!” But growing up slowly stole their love from me, piece by piece, giving it all to my sister. “There’s only one spot, Annie. You’re big now—let Lucy have it.” I shook my head, lip trembling, but they just sighed and took Lucy to the amusement park without me. The art supplies promised for raising my grades went to Lucy. The puppy for the next improvement went to her too. Now, the park trip for making the top ten was also for her. [Mom and Dad aren’t my mom and dad anymore.] [They don’t love me most anymore.] [Lucy gets so much more love.] [I hate my sister.] I scribbled angrily in my prize notebook, tears blurring the page. Then, I carefully crossed out the last line and wrote: [If you wake me up tomorrow and make my favorite pancakes, I’ll forgive you for not taking me today.] I tiptoed in and taped the note to their headboard. 1 “Annie Davis!” I scrambled from the doorway back to my bed, squeezed my eyes shut, and pretended to be fast asleep. BAM! My mother threw the door open and ripped the covers off me. “Ann—” “Mom, I forgive you!” I grinned, puckering my lips for a morning kiss. “You’ve gotten completely out of hand!” Her palm cracked across my cheek. She grabbed my ear and dragged me into her bedroom. In the corner, by a cabinet, lay a pile of shattered porcelain. “Very clever,” she sneered, her face a crumpled mask of fury. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find it if you hid it?” I shook my head, terrified. “It wasn’t me, Mom…” “Still lying!” She smacked the note from the headboard against my head, then with a furious sweep of her arm, sent another vase crashing to the floor. Shards flew everywhere. “I didn’t…” Before I could finish, she had grabbed the steel ruler from the desk. I screamed as the sharp pain seared across my legs. Through a haze of tears, I saw Lucy peeking around the doorframe. “It was Lucy!” I cried out, pointing a trembling finger at the corner of her dress as she tried to slip away. The ruler came down hard on my hand. “It must have been her when she was doing her homework in here…” “How dare you blame your sister!” The ruler rose higher, each strike landing harder than the last. “Mom…” Lucy reappeared in the doorway, her hands behind her back and her eyes red-rimmed. “Please stop hitting her.” I huddled in the corner, my face a mess of tears and snot. “It was me, Mom. I knocked it over last night by accident.” Lucy stepped into the room, placing herself between me and my mother. “You can hit me instead.” My mother’s trembling rage slowly subsided. Her expression shifted to surprise as she dropped the ruler. She took two steps forward and reached out. I blinked my swollen eyes, the words “it’s okay” already on my lips, but she walked right past me and scooped Lucy into her arms. “Don’t stand there, sweetie, you’ll cut yourself on the glass.” Fresh tears began to stream down my face. “You’re so smart, Lucy,” Mom cooed, “pushing the pieces under the cabinet so no one would get hurt. But next time, just tell us, okay? Mommy and Daddy would be so sad if you got hurt.” I wanted to cover my ears, but my mother’s soft, gentle voice buzzed like a mosquito, drilling its way into my head. I had to make it stop. “Mom, I didn’t do it!” I yelled. She turned, still holding Lucy, and her gaze fell on me, light as a feather but heavy enough to crush the air from my lungs. “I didn’t do it!” I screamed again, forcing myself to stand, gasping for breath. Mom set Lucy down, smoothed her hair, and walked toward me. I held my breath, watching her come closer, step by step, bending down. I reached out, desperate for a hug, but she simply grabbed a hair tie from the cabinet behind me, walked back to Lucy, and retied her hair into a perfect, pretty ponytail. “Mom, it wasn’t me…” She didn’t look back as she led Lucy out of the room, her voice flat and distant as she tossed three words over her shoulder. “I know, dear.” That wasn’t right. That wasn’t enough. “Mom, you have to say you’re sorry!” I shouted at her retreating back. She didn’t hear me. Or she didn’t care. Her steps remained steady and quick. They were going to have breakfast. Without me. I took a deep breath and blocked their path in the dining room. “Mom, you need to apologize to me.” “Annie will…” forgive you. She gestured for Lucy to go and eat, then looked at me with an exhausted sigh. “I’m already so tired, Annie. Can’t you just be a little more understanding?” My eyes began to sting again. I opened my mouth to argue, but my father, who had been quietly working at the table, spoke up without looking. “How can you be tired from just staying home all day?” he said. “You can’t even handle two kids.” “Richard! You make it sound so easy!” Mom shot back. “Do you really think I just sit around here doing nothing?” The argument exploded from there. I clamped my mouth shut and silently covered Lucy’s ears. “Let’s go back to our room.” Lucy followed me obediently, whispering “I’m sorry” the whole way. “I’ll apologize for Mom.” “Why are you always apologizing for her?” I snapped, glaring at her. Seeing her eyes well up with tears, I sighed and my anger deflated. “I’m sorry.” I looked at the purple bruises forming on my fingers. “I’m not mad at you, Lucy. It just… it hurts a little.” She nodded, not quite understanding. Before I could explain further, we heard the crash of plates and bowls from the dining room. “Don’t be scared,” I said, handing her the breakfast roll and carton of milk I’d managed to grab. “Just eat this and it’ll be okay.” “You have some, Annie.” I nodded vaguely, taking a sip from the straw she offered while keeping my eyes glued to the doorway, listening to the escalating fight outside. Slurp. The milk was so sweet. Wait. This wasn’t milk. It was soy milk. I stared blankly at the carton in Lucy’s hand. “Annie, why are you crying?” Her voice sounded distant. “Your face is getting all red!” I shook my head, bewildered. A sharp sting flared in my throat, and my breath began to catch in my lungs. “I don’t know…” The world went dark. The shouting from outside and Lucy’s panicked cries faded into a distant echo. As I collapsed, only one thought remained. They never even read my note. Neither of them read it. “…Lucy loves soy milk, I just forgot that Annie…” “You forgot? You forgot your own daughter has a severe allergy, Katherine?” “Richard, don’t you dare act like you remembered! You don’t even know how old they are!” Their angry voices seeped back into my awareness. I pried my eyes open to a sterile white ceiling. “Annie, you’re awake!” Lucy was sitting by the hospital bed, the first to notice. The fighting stopped. Mom knelt beside me, her voice still laced with anger. “Annie Davis, if you don’t look at what you’re drinking next time, then you can just suffer the consequences yourself.” I blinked slowly and nodded. “Okay,” I mumbled. Dad glanced at me, then at his watch, and turned to leave. “I have to get back to work.” “It’s always work with you…” Mom started yelling at his back, but he was already gone. I looked timidly back at my mother. She was stroking Lucy’s hair while calling for a nurse. “Mom—” My voice was a useless whisper. I watched them both disappear through the door. The clock on the wall pointed to two. It was Saturday. Time for Lucy’s art class. They just have important things to do, I told myself. I’ll have important things to do when I’m older, too. That’s how adults are. I’m a big girl now. Don’t cry anymore, Annie. I turned my head so the nurse wouldn’t see my tears and squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to fall back asleep. It would be better when I woke up. It would be better when I got home. 2 I was discharged from the hospital on Monday, just in time for mid-terms. Mom and Dad agreed that being sick wasn’t an excuse to miss a test, so I walked into the exam hall with my head feeling completely empty. That night at the dinner table, I stayed silent, shoveling plain rice into my mouth. “Eat your vegetables!” Mom snapped, slamming her hand on the table. I flinched, my hand trembling as I picked up a single green bean. “If you improve your score this time, we’ll sign you up for that writing workshop.” The writing workshop! The one I wanted more than anything! My head shot up, then slowly sank again. “Mom, what if I do really badly this time?” “Then you can stop calling me your mother,” she replied coldly, placing a piece of chicken on Lucy’s plate. “But I was sick, next time I’ll—” “That’s not an excuse,” Dad said, not even looking up from his paper. I didn’t dare say another word, just silently prayed that my teacher would be generous with her grading. Please, Mrs. Davison, please. But Mrs. Davison clearly hadn’t heard my prayers. I came in third from the bottom. “Annie Davis, you’ve really outdone yourself,” Mom said, her long fingernail jabbing at my forehead. She turned to Lucy, her voice instantly softening. “How about we take you to the aquarium this time, sweetie?” “I want to go too,” I whispered, mustering all my courage to echo the way Lucy used to ask for things. Mom’s hand struck my back, hard. “With grades like that, you have the nerve to ask for anything?” “But Mom, my art supplies, the puppy, the amusement park… they all went to Lucy…” “I knew it! I knew you were keeping score!” she shrieked, grabbing the steel ruler again. “Lucy gets first place every single time! Doesn’t she deserve those things?” “And besides,” she continued, her voice rising, “don’t you have art supplies now? Don’t we have a dog in this house? Don’t you have pictures from the amusement park?” I nodded, sobbing uncontrollably. But Mom, the art supplies I have are Lucy’s old ones. The dog was supposed to be named Buddy, not her Lucky. And the pictures from the amusement park are from when I was a tiny little girl. I can’t even remember what it feels like to be there anymore. “Mom, stop hitting her!” Lucy ran out of her room and stood in front of me, holding out her own brand-new set of colored pencils. “Here, Annie! You can have them all back!” “I don’t want them!” I shoved her hands away, and the pencils scattered across the floor. “How dare you yell at your sister! You ungrateful little brat!” Mom’s strikes became harder, more frantic. “That’s enough,” Dad finally said, stopping her arm before it could fall again. “Lucy’s right here.” Glancing at her weeping younger daughter, Mom threw the ruler back on the table and knelt to hug Lucy. Dad rolled up his sleeves and walked slowly toward me. I knew what was coming. “Dad, I’m sorry,” I pleaded, shaking my head frantically. “I won’t yell at Lucy again. I’ll get into the top ten next time, no, the top five! Please, I don’t want to go to…” “Annie.” He was already heading for the stairs. “You’re a good girl, right?” No! No! I wanted to scream, but Dad’s belt hurt even more than Mom’s ruler. All I could do was nod. I left Lucy’s muffled sobs and Mom’s comforting murmurs behind me and slowly followed my father upstairs. He led me to the room at the end of the hall. He handed me my test paper, and I sat down quietly in the chair bolted to the center of the floor. The light faded to black. The last thing I saw was the big red 54 circled on my test. 3 My father didn’t believe in corporal punishment, he said, even though he hit me harder than anyone. After the first time I failed a test, he’d broken two belts on me and then hired a designer to create my “reflection room.” It had no windows. The stark white walls were plastered with motivational posters and every single one of my report cards. [FAILURE NOW IS FAILURE FOREVER.] [IF YOU’RE NOT FIRST, YOU’RE LAST.] [SUCCESS IS THE ONLY OPTION.] It was pitch black, but I didn’t need to see. I had memorized the location of every single piece of paper. “You need to be sharper!” “How could you get such a simple question wrong?!” “Why are you so stupid?” “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” “What’s the big deal about letting her have it?” A static hiss filled my ears as my parents’ voices argued inside my head. “Stop it, stop it,” I whimpered, trying to bat away the words flashing in the darkness, but the restraints on the chair held me fast. “We love our Annie so much!” “We just want our little girl to be safe and happy.” “Annie is the best little girl in the whole wide world!” “I’m not, I’m not…” I sobbed, shaking my head violently. My body convulsed, a wave of nausea rising in my throat. I screamed until my voice was raw, and then silence fell. My brain felt like a rusted gear, straining to turn but going nowhere. I just stared into the void. Whoosh. Whose breath was that? Whoosh. Was it mine? I closed my eyes. Or did I? I couldn’t tell. It was so quiet. So dark. “Mommy, Daddy, I won’t do it again.” “I’ll be nice to Lucy.” “I’ll study harder.” “I’ll be just like her. I’ll get first place every time.” My thoughts grew fuzzy. I mumbled one last thing. “Please don’t hate me anymore.” “Can you just love me a little bit again?” “I’m a little scared.” 4 [Good news: Mom and Dad locked the reflection room.] [Bad news: They said they’re done with me.] [It’s all my fault. I’m getting dumber and dumber. I can’t remember anything. I’ve failed three tests in a row.] [If I improve by twenty spots next time, will they forgive me?] I turned to a new page and continued to write, carefully, stroke by stroke. [If Mom or Dad calls me ‘Annie’ just one more time, I’ll forgive you for saying you’re done with me.] I tore the page out neatly and tucked it under my pillow. There. Now I could love my mom, my dad, and my sister properly again. I walked out of my room and greeted my parents, who were sitting on the couch. No one answered. I knelt down and reached a hand under the sofa. “Good morning, Buddy!” “His name is Lucky,” Mom said without looking at me. My fingers curled. I corrected myself brightly. “Good morning, Lucky!” The puppy wagged his tail, and I had just started to pet his head when Mom stood up. “I’m taking Lucky out to pick up your sister.” I slowly pulled my hand back and nodded, watching them leave. “Dad, can I sit here and read with you?” He remained silent, so I tentatively sat on the other end of the couch. A small smile touched my lips, but then he stood up, rolled his magazine into a tube, and walked away. I looked around the empty living room, feeling adrift. It was like this house didn’t need me anymore. I blinked, my eyes feeling dry and sore, like I was a lemon turning sour. “Okay. I’ll get Buddy’s—Lucky’s—dinner ready.” I copied my mother, getting the bag of dog food from the cabinet. I read the label three times to make sure it was the right one before pouring it into his bowl. “What are you doing?” Mom’s cold voice came from behind me. Lucky was already gobbling up the food. “I’m helping, Mom.” “I don’t need your help.” She took Lucy’s backpack from her and disappeared around the corner. “Annie, Buddy really likes you!” Lucy chirped. “His name is Lucky,” I corrected, trying to push down the swelling feeling in my chest. Lucy opened her mouth to say something else but gasped instead. “Buddy, he’s—” The warm, furry body under my hand went stiff. Lucky started to vomit, then convulsed twice and lay still. “Lucky?” I whispered, my hand frozen on his back. “Annie! What did you do?!” Mom shoved me aside and frantically dialed the vet’s number. I looked from my stoic father to my frantic mother to my crying sister, and finally, down at Lucky’s small, still body. Mom drove Lucky to the animal hospital. When she came back, her face was grim. “He’s gone,” she said, her voice flat. Then she slapped me, hard. “The vet said he ingested some kind of poison.” Her eyes were filled with a hatred I had never seen before. “Annie, I thought you were just bad at school! I never thought you were a bad person!” “If you didn’t want him around, you should have just killed yourself! What did he ever do to you? Why did you have to kill him?!” “I didn’t… I checked the bag, it was the same one he always eats…” Mom pulled a wailing Lucy into her arms, her voice dripping with disgust as she delivered the final blow. “I regret the day you were born.” A roar filled my ears. I stumbled backward and fell to the floor, staring up at my father, who looked down on me with cold disappointment. “Annie, you are a profound disappointment.” “I don’t understand how I could have a daughter like you.” “How could I have ever thought you had potential?” “Someone like you… living is just a waste of resources.” He paused, his voice dropping to a low, chilling whisper. “Listen to your mother. Maybe you’d be better off dead.” My throat was dry. I couldn’t think. I scrambled back to my room in a daze. “I regret the day you were born—” “Living is just a waste—” “We love our Annie so much!” “How could I have a daughter like you—” “Annie is the best little girl in the world!” “You should have just killed yourself—” “Better off dead—” “Just die!” “JUST DIE!” “JUST DIE!!!” “Alright,” I whispered to the empty room. “Mom, Dad… I’ll grant your wish.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389435”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My father was a human trafficker. My mother was the daughter of a billionaire he’d kidnapped. The day the police finally found us, he fell off a cliff during the chase and died. My mother and I were sent back to her family, the Wentworths. But my mother’s mind was broken. She screamed and shoved me away. “I never gave birth to a trafficker’s child.” My grandfather trembled with rage. “The Wentworth family will not have such a mongrel in our house.” They sent me away to a prestigious boarding school. The school’s top bully tormented me, forcing me to eat from a dog bowl. “Your father was an animal,” he sneered. “So you’ll eat like one.” After one forced bite, I started to cry. No one had ever told me that a dog’s dinner could be this delicious. 1 The moment the bully’s lackey, Gabe, shoved my face into the dog bowl, an incredible aroma of savory meat shot up my nose. I stared at the chunks of salmon and beef, and I couldn’t help myself. I took a small bite. The next second, a tear plopped into the bowl. In my entire life… I had never tasted anything so good. Ignoring the hand still pressing down on my head, I buried my face in the bowl and began to eat ravenously, swallowing my tears along with the food. “What the hell?” Gabe yelped, snatching his hand back and stumbling away. “She’s… she’s actually eating it!” The head bully, Jax, stared for a moment, then nudged his other friend, Porky. “Are you sure that food is clean? The dog hasn’t eaten from it, right? No germs? Why’s she acting so weird?” Porky looked just as stunned, scratching his head. “I watched my housekeeper make it fresh. To teach her a lesson, I even used yesterday’s leftover salmon and beef. The bowl’s new, though.” While they were talking, I had already licked the bowl so clean it shined. I looked up, my eyes wet and pleading, and asked in a small voice, “Is there… any more? I haven’t eaten in three days…” Jax kicked a nearby chair over, his face a mask of fury. “What, you like it now? You’re addicted?!” But I wasn’t scared. When my father got drunk, he liked to beat me. He was a big man, well over two hundred pounds, and his fists were the size of sandbags. Once, my mother tried to run away. When he caught her, he was so angry he broke a dozen thorny branches beating her with them. I threw myself over her, begging him to stop, but his eyes were bloodshot with rage. He grabbed a hoe and swung it at my head. I was unconscious for three days after that. I still have a long scar on my forehead. Besides that scar, my body was a map of other injuries—from pinches, from scalding water, from the thorny branches… No matter how fierce these boys tried to be, they could never be as terrifying as that man. Bianca, the most popular girl in school, walked by with her lunch tray and rolled her eyes. “Are you guys stupid? Just give her the stuff you don’t want to eat.” With a blank expression, she dumped all the broccoli, carrots, and fatty meat from her tray into my dog bowl. The students around us had a collective lightbulb moment. Soon, a mountain of food piled up in my bowl. “I hate bell peppers!” “Here, you can have this. The shrimp smells weird.” “Crab is too much work.” “This pork belly is way too fatty. You’ll get sick.” I stared blankly at the ever-growing pile of leftovers: steamed lobster, a whole Dungeness crab, glistening braised pork belly… No, these weren’t leftovers. This was my paradise. “Is… is all this really for me?” I asked timidly, my voice barely a whisper. “Weirdo. She really is an idiot.” Gabe muttered as he walked away, but not before tossing a chicken leg into my bowl. Porky stared at my bowl for a long moment, then turned to Jax. “Hey, man, you think that dog food is really that good? She looks like she’s really enjoying it…” Jax gritted his teeth and yelled at me, “You’re not leaving until you finish every last bite! You hear me?!” Then he spun around and kicked Porky. “What are you looking at! You want some too?!” Once most of the students had left, I cradled the heavy bowl and found a quiet corner to squat in. Sunlight streamed through the window, making every grain of rice sparkle. I grabbed a piece of meat with my hand and shoved it into my mouth, then scooped up a huge mouthful of rice, my cheeks puffing out like a hamster’s. 2 During her moments of clarity, my mother told me she used to play the piano. But all ten of her fingers had been smashed and deformed. She couldn’t even hold my hand properly. For as long as I could remember, she was locked in the pigpen, a long iron chain fastened around her neck. She would often scream like a madwoman, muttering in a foreign language I didn’t understand, her words eventually dissolving into sobs. She ran away every chance she got. At first, she would try to take me with her. I wasn’t wanted in that house either. I was a girl, and because of that, I was despised from the moment I was born. Growing up, the man I called Father only ever called me “Worthless Girl.” When I was eight, he finally took me to get registered. The clerk at the office asked for my name. “Worthless Girl,” he grunted impatiently. The clerk looked at him in disbelief. “Are you sure? Once it’s on the certificate, it’s not easy to change.” “She’s just as worthless as her mother. She doesn’t deserve a good name.” The clerk, furious, scribbled “Lynn” on the paper and asked if that was correct. My father couldn’t read. He assumed it was the name he’d given me and nodded dismissively. I huddled by the counter with my head down, only breathing a sigh of relief when I saw the name on the official document. As we were leaving, the clerk slipped a hundred-dollar bill into my hand. I looked up at her with gratitude. When we were far enough away and my father wasn’t looking, I turned back and gave her a deep, long bow. That night, after he got drunk, I took the money and the key to the pigpen. It was the dead of winter. My mother was wearing nothing but a torn tank top, shivering in a corner. Her hair was a matted mess, and the skin on her neck was a thick, dark red callus from the iron chain. “Mom, take this and run.” I expertly unlocked the chain and gave her the money. She stared blankly at the banknote. She had been cut off from the world for so long she didn’t recognize the new currency. Suddenly, her eyes filled with suspicion. “You’re lying to me. You’re his child. You must be trying to trick me.” Her mind was a fractured thing back then, her words disjointed and confused. I coaxed and pleaded until I finally got her out the door. But we hadn’t gone more than a few steps before we ran into a neighbor on his nightly patrol. The villagers came after us with torches and dragged us back. That time, we were beaten black and blue. They smashed a rock against her head, leaving a deep gash. The blood soaked through the straw in the pigpen. When she woke up, the only thing in her eyes when she looked at me was hatred. “It’s all your fault. If it weren’t for you, I would have escaped.” “Please, sweetie, can you help Mommy get away?” “Your family are all demons. Please, just let me go.” Her mind slipped further and further away. Around that time, a charity began sponsoring our village, and I was sent to the town school. As I learned more about the world, I began to understand. My mother had been kidnapped. I was the child of a human trafficker. I told this secret to my only friend. The next day, the entire class ostracized me. “Your mom’s a psycho, your dad’s a monster, and you’re no better.” They threw trash at me, spat at me. Once, they shoved my head into a toilet. 3 Eventually, the police followed a lead and found us. They rescued my mother and me. My mother’s sanity came and went. But when she was lucid, she was in agony. The moment she saw me, she would shrink away, trembling. “I don’t know her. She’s not my child.” My grandfather was so enraged he had a heart attack. He refused to let me in the house. “The Wentworth family has no place for such a mongrel. To think that scum is even associated with our family.” My cousin, Connor, threw me out. I had nowhere to go, but I was too worried about my mother to leave. I squatted by the front gate for two days until I finally fainted from hunger on the steps. When I woke up, I was in a hospital with an IV in my arm. My grandfather stood by the bed, leaning on a cane, his hair completely white. “Child, don’t blame us. Neither your mother nor the Wentworth family can accept you. It’s not your fault, but you have his blood. We will pay for your schooling, give you the best education possible. But beyond that, you’re on your own.” I didn’t blame them. I understood. I was that man’s daughter. It was a stain that could never be washed away. I didn’t dare ask if they could give me something to eat. I was starving. But I knew they were all suffering. My mother, my grandfather. Just being able to continue school was more than I could have hoped for. That man had planned to pull me out after elementary school, just so I could learn a few words and fetch a higher price when he married me off. And so, I was sent to this school. They seemed to have paid for all my tuition, but they must have forgotten about living expenses. Since returning to the Wentworths, I hadn’t eaten a single meal. The only thing in my stomach was the glucose from the IV drip. My cousin Connor wasn’t at this school, but he had already spread the word to his friends here: My father was a human trafficker, and they should “take care” of me. To be able to eat my fill, and to eat so well, with so much meat I’d never even seen before… I was deeply grateful. Being “taken care of” was a wonderful thing. 4 When I returned to the classroom, no one threw trash at me or laughed, which I had expected. Logically, after learning my story, no one should want anything to do with me. I went back to my seat in the last row. The girl next to me was beautiful, with cool, distant eyes. Her uniform was so clean it seemed to smell like sunshine. When I sat down, she didn’t cover her nose and complain about the smell like my old deskmates used to. She did, however, frown slightly and shift her books a half-inch away from me. “What are you looking at? Turn to page 28.” Her voice was so pleasant that I just stared at her for a moment. “Are you still daydreaming? If you fail the exam and drag down our class average, you’ll have to answer to me.” I quickly flipped to page 28, a strange feeling twisting in my gut. They must have something else planned for me. I’d heard that the rich kids at these elite schools had all sorts of creative ways to torture people. But for the rest of the class, no one bothered me. When the teacher came in, everything was normal. I later learned that she was Sloane, the class academic officer, and the class average was the most important thing in the world to her. From then on, things started appearing on my desk. Sometimes it was a photocopied set of her neatly written notes, other times it was an old workbook with key problems highlighted. My math was terrible. During lunch break, when the classroom was mostly empty, she would tap my desk with her pen. “This problem. Look at the construction line first.” Her tone was flat, but she explained each step incredibly slowly, pausing until she saw the confusion clear from my eyes before moving on. My English was a complete blank slate. I barely knew the alphabet. She wordlessly tossed me an old Walkman. “Study this. I’m quizzing you tomorrow.” She always had a scowl on her face, but her voice was so nice to listen to. As she was teaching me how to pronounce a word, I zoned out again. “Has your voice always been this beautiful?” I blurted out. She froze, her face flushing bright red. She jabbed my test paper with her pen. “If you don’t start paying attention, I really will have to answer to you. Look at this, you only got a 38 on the quiz.” I didn’t dare let my mind wander again. I started waking up before dawn every day to practice my English. Back in my old school, everyone ignored me, which gave me a lot of time to study. I was always at the top of my class. But now I was in last place, dragging down our average. I couldn’t let Sloane’s efforts go to waste. 5 Without any money, food became a problem. I went to the school office and asked if there were any work-study opportunities. My homeroom teacher looked at me as if I’d told a joke. “This is an elite academy. We don’t have students working.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Weren’t you sent here by the Wentworth family? How could you possibly be short on money?” Another teacher quietly pulled her aside. “She’s the one who was kidnapped with the Wentworth daughter. The one born to the trafficker.” My teacher was young, fresh from studying abroad. Her face went pale, and she jumped back as if I were contagious. “We don’t have a work-study program. You should go back to class now.” She muttered under her breath, “What is this school coming to, letting in just anyone.” I walked out of the office with my head down. I had heard words like that my whole life. I was immune by now. If I couldn’t work, I’d just have to go to the cafeteria. At least the kimchi and soup were free. I wonder if there will be any “dog food” today? The thought of that meal made my mouth water and my stomach clench. I had just sat down in my usual corner when a heavy lunchbox landed on the table in front of me with a thud. Jax stood over me, hands in his pockets, his brow furrowed. “Hey. Are all you girls so obsessed with dieting? Just drinking soup? Eat this. Maybe it’ll put some meat on your bones.” Porky stood beside him, trying his best to look menacing. “Yeah! My cousin cries for a whole morning if she gains a single pound!” I didn’t say anything. I just quietly opened the lunchbox. Inside were braised pork ribs, stir-fried shrimp, two perfectly fried sunny-side-up eggs, and a generous portion of tightly packed rice. I picked up the spoon and started eating. The food was still warm. The ribs were so tender they fell off the bone, and the shrimp were sweet and fresh. I ate quickly and cleanly. In two minutes, the box was empty. I even scraped the last bit of oil from the sides with my spoon. “Thank you,” I said, putting the empty box down and looking up at him. My eyes started to feel hot. Jax froze, and his ears turned a shade of crimson I could see from across the room. He took a sharp step back, his voice rising in a flustered jumble. “Are—are you crazy? Who needs your thanks! We’re bullying you! Bullying, you get it?” He grabbed the still-dazed Porky and stormed off, fuming. “I told you guys to be meaner! Otherwise, how are we supposed to answer to Connor? We’re the school tyrants! We have to be mean!” Connor. My cousin’s name. It felt like a tiny needle pricked my heart. A dull ache, but not too painful. He must hate me so much because he loves my mother and feels for her suffering. As long as my mother was with the Wentworths, getting better, nothing else mattered. I wondered if she was eating well today, if she was doing any better. I washed the lunchbox until it shone, dried it carefully, and put it back in Jax’s desk drawer. The sunlight fell on it, warm and gentle. I thought for a moment, then, when no one was looking, I left him a small note. “It’s not necessary. Please don’t give me any more food. Thank you.” After another thought, I gently crossed out the words “it’s not necessary” and changed them to “it’s no trouble.” 6 During evening study hall, I was the only one in the classroom. All the other students were day students; I was the only boarder. I was used to it. Before Sloane left, she wordlessly dropped a thick stack of problems on my desk. “Key concepts. Finish them.” I didn’t dare waste a second. She had put so much effort into preparing these for me. Her tutoring was a gift I could never have imagined, a top student’s private lessons, even more detailed than the teachers’. But as I worked, my stomach started to ache with hunger. Damn it. Lunch was delicious, but it hadn’t been enough. I got up and chugged two large glasses of water. I didn’t expect to run into Bianca, who had come back for something she’d forgotten. She was staring at me like I was a freak. “Are you insane? Gulping down two huge glasses of cold water like that.” I looked down, not daring to speak. Just then, my stomach betrayed me with a loud, rumbling growl that echoed in the empty hallway. Bianca’s expression froze. She frowned, a look of disgust on her face, and tossed a meal card at me. “Here. Use it.” I couldn’t accept it. Not because I thought it was a trap, but because I didn’t deserve it. The card was blindingly bright, covered in tiny diamonds that formed the shape of a glittering, haughty cat. It looked incredibly expensive. Bianca seemed even more annoyed. She shoved the card into my hand. “I just hate that sound. It’s distracting. I have misophonia, you know?” Realizing her excuse didn’t quite make sense, she grabbed her art portfolio and practically fled down the hallway, leaving behind the faint, pleasant scent of gardenias. I clutched the card in my hand, the sharp edges of the diamonds digging into my palm. Without warning, big, fat tears began to splash onto the glittering cat’s ears. This was so frustrating. I had been at this school for less than a week, but I felt like I had cried more than in the past decade combined. I never cried like this, not even when my father beat me. What was wrong with me? 7 Life went on. I didn’t have to worry about school fees. The balance on the meal card Bianca gave me always read 9999+, no matter how much I spent. I started keeping a little notebook, writing down every penny I used. One day, when I got into college and found a job, I would pay her back. Jax didn’t bother me again, but my desk was always piled with food. Now, however, it was in clean, disposable containers. One day, I came to school early and saw Jax and Porky putting food on my desk. “The cafeteria food is so gross. I don’t know how she eats it.” “This is a new recipe my family’s chef came up with. It’s good for the brain.” “And this. She studies so late every night, this is good for her eyes.” “This one has iron. She’s skinny as a ghost. I saw her hand the other day… man, she has this long scar. Looked painful.” “Jax, do you really think that scar… was from a dog bite?” “Shut up. Put the stuff down and let’s go before someone sees us.” In a matter of minutes, a mountain of food was stacked on my desk. I didn’t have the courage to face them, so I waited until they left before going to my seat. My chest felt full of something warm and soft, swelling until it ached. I had nothing to give them in return. I pulled out the workbook Sloane had given me and threw myself into the problems. All I had was the pen in my hand. I would solve every single problem. I would devour every word in these books. I would get the highest scores, get into the best university. That was the only way I could repay their warmth. 8 The mid-term exams came quickly. I got first place. Sloane shot up from her seat and threw her arms around me, her usually cool voice filled with unrestrained joy. “That’s my girl! From dead last to number one!” She was happier than if she had gotten first place herself, her eyes shining like they were full of stars. “Quiet! This is a classroom, not a fish market!” The teacher slammed her hand on the desk, her gaze cutting through me like a knife. “Some people shouldn’t get cocky just because they’ve made a little progress.” The smile on Sloane’s face instantly vanished. She let go of me, picked up her Louis Vuitton bag, and casually tossed another one out the window. “Teacher, I dropped my bag. Could you please get it for me?” The teacher’s face turned purple. Sloane smiled sweetly. “You can keep it.” The teacher’s expression changed in an instant. “Oh, my, I couldn’t possibly. I’ll go get it right now.” She practically ran out of the room to retrieve the bag. Sloane rolled her eyes and pulled out another set of practice tests. “Finally, some peace and quiet. Don’t get arrogant. These are practice questions from the exam writer. Finish them in the next two days.” I beamed and nodded eagerly, ready to start. Bianca couldn’t stand it. “She just got first place. Can’t you give her a break? Let her relax, go for afternoon tea or something.” Sloane held the papers down. “Bianca, do you think everyone can afford to be a carefree, decorative vase like you?” Bianca blushed. “Who are you calling a vase? I passed my TOEFL last year and I’m going abroad next year. You’re calling me a vase?” I quickly stepped between them. “Actually, I can do the problems and drink water at the same time.” Bianca let out an exasperated laugh and shot me a glare. “Fine. I’ll have some Bvlgari afternoon tea sent over. They have a Christmas special today. We can all celebrate.” Porky jumped in. “Awesome! I’ll have hot pot delivered.” Even Sloane got caught up in the mood. “Alright, you get one day off. I’ll have my family send over a couple of chefs to make steak and foie gras.” It was the first, and perhaps only, Christmas of my life that was so boisterous, so warm, so filled with the aroma of food. The classroom was a surreal mix of Michelin-star desserts and steaming hot pot. Chefs in crisp white uniforms pan-fried steaks at a makeshift station, the sizzling sound and rich aroma filling the air. The students laughed and joked. Even the ever-serious Sloane snuck a bite of Bianca’s gold-leaf cake. I ate the tripe Porky put on my plate, listened to Bianca complain about the hassle of preparing to go abroad, and watched Jax silently cook slices of beef for me from across the room. For a few moments, I almost forgot who I was and where I came from. Until the classroom door was thrown open with a violent crash. All the laughter and chatter died as if a switch had been flipped. Connor stood in the doorway, his face dark and stormy. He saw the delicate bone china plate in my hand, the smudge of cream I hadn’t yet wiped from the corner of my mouth. His eyes blazed with fury, and he overturned the nearest hot pot table. The scalding red broth and colorful ingredients splattered across the floor. Students nearby screamed and jumped back. “You’re a trafficker’s daughter! You have his filthy blood in your veins… What right do you have to be so happy?”

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1 On the night the real heiress came back to the Gould family, my own brother drove me to an orphanage and abandoned me. My once comfortable life was torn apart in a day. At the orphanage, bullies made me their target — sometimes nearly drowning me in a drain, other times whipping my back until I couldn’t get up. I begged the warden for help, but he just sneered, “If you weren’t so vicious, your family wouldn’t have thrown you out. You deserved it.” His silence encouraged them. On Christmas Eve, they stripped me and threw me into the snow. I was found stiff and rushed to the hospital. Through the haze, I heard the warden’s cynical laugh: “The Goulds tossed out their own daughter to protect their adopted one — they’re even paying extra to ‘break her.’” He added, “They treat that new girl, Lila, like a queen. I doubt Mr. Gould will even come to see her.” So it was all a game — orchestrated by my brother, Adrian, for Lila. Clutching my bone cancer diagnosis, I laughed through my tears. Soon, Lila really would be his only sister. … The doctor stood before me, his expression grave, sighing repeatedly. “It’s highly unusual for someone your age to develop this, but it was likely aggravated by the repeated, untreated fractures in your leg…” He sat down, patiently explaining the treatment options. But my hearing had been damaged from the constant beatings, a recurring deafness that muffled his voice into a dull drone. I only caught the last sentence. “If we start treatment immediately, we can extend your life by a few years. You should discuss the options with your family.” Family? After six years as an orphan, the word still felt foreign, jarring. I shook my head, a tearful smile on my lips. “I don’t have a family.” The doctor’s pen froze mid-sentence. His eyes scanned the map of scars and bruises covering my body, his voice softening with concern. “Listen, kid, fights with family are one thing, but running away is another. The world out there is a cruel place. It’ll eat you alive.” He offered a reassuring look. “Your brother will be here soon. Just talk it out with him.” I lowered my head, silent. My home was once my sanctuary, the warmest place in the world. But the moment Adrian cast me aside for Lila, that home vanished. He wasn’t coming to save me. He wouldn’t care. I stared blankly at the ceiling tiles, and as I tried to shift my weight, the door flew open. “Aria? Are you serious right now? Your phone goes unanswered, so you pull a stunt like this just to get my attention?” The familiar sound of Adrian’s voice sent a jolt through me. So all those times I’d been tortured to the brink of death, when I’d desperately called him, begging for a way out… he knew it was me. He just chose not to answer. A hopeless laugh escaped my lips. I looked up, my bloodshot eyes meeting his. My voice was raw as I bit out the words. “So you’ve just been ignoring me? Is that how much you despise me? How much you can’t stand having me as your sister?” Adrian’s pupils contracted. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, the rims of his eyes turning red. The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air between us. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked down, his voice low. “I did it to give Lila a happy childhood. You had everything. Her mother died protecting our parents.” His voice grew firmer, defensive. “Taking care of her was a promise I made. You were always so aggressive, always bullying her. I had no other choice.” I nodded, a bitter smile spreading across my face as a million tiny needles of pain pierced my heart. Give her a happy childhood? And what about me? Did I deserve to be abandoned in an orphanage? To be tormented until I wished for death? To get bone cancer? I fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. “And Mom and Dad?” His expression was cool, unreadable. “It was a family decision. We were planning to bring you home, once Lila felt more settled.” I thought I was prepared for it, but hearing the words from his own mouth was like a sledgehammer to the chest. The whole family knew. All of them. They had calmly and deliberately sacrificed me for the sake of their housekeeper’s daughter. The dam broke. Tears streamed down my face. I would rather have been the fake heiress. I would rather have frozen to death in the snow that night. Anything would have been less painful than this. Seeing my tears, a flicker of pity crossed Adrian’s face. He sighed, offering a concession. “If you promise to control your temper, to stop being so aggressive and leave Lila alone, I’ll bring you home tomorrow.” He paused. “Not tonight. Tonight is Christmas Eve, and it’s her birthday. Mom, Dad, and I promised we’d spend it alone with her.” My throat was dry. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. A self-mocking smirk twisted my lips. “I’m sick,” I said, my voice flat. “Bone cancer. I need to stay here for treatment. Just pay the bills. I won’t go home. I won’t bother your precious Lila.” The words had barely left my mouth when his voice exploded in a furious, restrained roar. “What is wrong with you, Aria? What’s with the attitude?” “You find out you’re the real daughter and suddenly you think you can pull whatever manipulative crap you want? You’d even lie about having cancer just to guilt me into taking you home?” I stared at him in disbelief, pointing a trembling finger at the doctor. “I’m not lying! Ask him!” The doctor stepped forward, ready to explain, but Adrian cut him off, his patience shattered. He kicked the side of my bed with a loud thud. “Enough! You haven’t changed a bit after all these years! Now you’re even getting doctors to lie for you!” He turned to leave, his voice filled with disgust. “I never should have wasted my time coming here.” The door slammed shut, plunging the room into a deafening silence. My heart plummeted, my gaze fixed on the empty doorway. The doctor was stunned. “But… isn’t he Adrian Gould? The man who’s famous for doting on his sister? Is he really your brother?” I nodded, then slowly shook my head. He was famous for doting on his sister. But that sister was no longer me. It was Lila. She was our housekeeper’s daughter, and we grew up together. I shared everything I had with her, treating her like she was my own blood. But as we got older, it was never enough for her. She started telling lies to our parents. She claimed I led a group of bullies to torment her at school, calling her a country bumpkin. She said I stripped her clothes off in front of everyone, shouting that poor people didn’t deserve to wear nice things. My parents, who had always seen me as their perfect daughter, began to look at me with growing disappointment. My brother’s frustration turned to rage, and his hand often found my cheek. My own family started to look at me like I was a monster. Then, our housekeeper died in a car crash while shielding my parents. Shortly after, Adrian found an audio recording. That night, he took nine-year-old me to the orphanage. “There was a switch at birth,” he’d told me, his voice cold. “Lila is their real daughter. My real sister. You stole her life!” My world crumbled in that instant, but I had no choice but to accept it. That’s why, even when I was suffering in the orphanage, I never hated them for sending me away. They had loved me once, treasured me. I thought they were just getting justice for their real daughter. But now, knowing the truth… it was all a pathetic joke. As I recounted the story, tears began to fall again. The doctor’s brow was furrowed with pity, unsure of how to comfort me. I forced a smile. Just as I was about to say, “It’s okay,” the door burst open. A group of security guards stormed in. Two of them grabbed me, binding my arms, and dragged me out of the hospital. “Mr. Gould’s orders!” one of them announced. “You’re wasting resources faking an illness. Any doctor who conspires with you will have their career terminated!” The kind doctor tried to intervene, pleading my case, but Adrian’s influence was absolute. The guards were just doing their job. They threw me onto the cold pavement of the street. The impact sent a searing, grinding pain through every bone in my body. I lay on the ground, convulsing. The doctor, his heart aching for me, took off his own winter coat and draped it over my thin hospital gown. “I have a family to support, kid. I can’t lose my job. I’m sorry I can’t do more, but this might help with the pain.” He shoved a bottle of painkillers into my hand before the guards shooed him away. I fumbled with the bottle, dry-swallowing a handful of pills. After a few minutes, the shaking subsided. I staggered to my feet, looking around at the bustling street. Dusk was falling. People were rushing home for Christmas Eve, their faces glowing with happiness. And then there was me. A ghost wandering the streets with nowhere to go. I sniffled, pulling the coat tighter, but the wind still bit through to my bones. I found a sheltered alcove by a building and huddled down, trying to conserve warmth. As I crouched there, my eyes fell on a high-end restaurant across the street. And in the window, a familiar family of four. A three-tiered cake sat on their table. Lila, wearing a birthday crown, sat in the middle, her eyes closed as she made a wish. My father leaned over and fastened a necklace with a large pink gemstone around her neck. My mother was busy snapping photos. And Adrian stood ready with a confetti cannon. The moment she blew out the candles, they all cheered, wishing her a happy birthday. Surrounded by their love, Lila looked like a true princess. For a second, I thought I saw her glance my way, a triumphant, mocking smile on her face. But I dismissed it. My stomach was cramping from two days without food. The hunger was unbearable. I closed my eyes, trying to will myself to sleep. Maybe if I slept, the pain would go away. Just as I was drifting off, a splash of ice-cold water shocked me awake. I gasped, shivering violently. Lila stood over me, a cruel smirk on her face. “It really is you,” she sneered. “I had them make your life a living hell, and you’re still not dead? You’re tougher than a cockroach.” My heart seized. So it was true. She was behind everything at the orphanage. She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m the Gould heiress now. And you? You’re nothing but trash on the street.” She was right. What could I do? No one would believe me. No one would take my side. The pain in my bones was a deep, insistent throb. I had no energy left to fight. It didn’t matter anymore. I could be dead at any moment. If I just stayed quiet, maybe she would leave me alone to get through the night. But seeing me so passive, so unlike the fighter I used to be, seemed to bother her. She knelt in front of me, her brow furrowed. “What’s this? Trying to look pathetic? Hoping Mom and Dad will see you and feel sorry enough to take you home?” A cold laugh escaped her lips, the dimples in her cheeks deepening as her voice turned venomous. “Let’s just see who they feel sorry for.” Before I could react, her hand shot out. There was a glint of metal. She plunged the knife deep into my thigh. A scream tore from my throat as a blinding, all-consuming pain nearly made me pass out. My body’s instinct was to push her away, but before my hands even reached her, she threw herself backward, tumbling down the short flight of steps behind her. “Ahh! Dad! Mom! Adrian, it hurts!” she shrieked, her delicate cries easily overpowering my pained gasps. Through a blur of agony, I saw the three of them in the restaurant window turn their heads in an instant. They scrambled from their table and ran across the street. Adrian reached her first, scooping her into his arms, his face a mask of panic as he asked what happened. My parents were right behind, fussing over her, checking for injuries while dialing for an ambulance. Cradled in Adrian’s arms, Lila’s face was streaked with tears. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “I… I thought I saw someone who looked like Aria, so I came out… I wanted her to celebrate with me, but then…” Following her gaze, the three of them finally looked up and saw me, a crumpled heap in the darkness. My parents froze, their eyes filled with a storm of unreadable emotions. Adrian’s gaze, which had been full of adoration for Lila, turned on me, sharp and filled with visceral hatred. I stared back at the three people who once cherished me more than anything, who now looked at me as if I were their mortal enemy. The physical agony ignited years of buried grief. I held up a hand, trying to explain, a desperate sliver of hope still flickering within me. “I didn’t do anything to her. She’s the one who hurt me! Please… just believe me this once…” My words were cut short by the sharp crack of Adrian’s hand across my face. “Aria! You followed us here, lured Lila out, and attacked her on her birthday, and now you have the gall to blame her for it?” My father’s face was dark with rage, his eyes holding nothing but profound disappointment. “Will you not stop until Lila is dead? After all these years, lying is still the only thing you’ve learned!” My hand trembled as I touched my stinging cheek. The pain was excruciating. But all I could do was laugh, a wild, broken sound. It was always like this. My own parents. My own brother. They couldn’t see my emaciated frame. They couldn’t see the blood soaking through my pants. All they saw was Lila, their perfect, blameless angel. I should have known better than to hope. I dropped my head, my voice numb as I spoke to Adrian. “If I don’t make it through the night, will you come get my body?” He let out a short, contemptuous laugh, his eyes filled with scorn. “That would be for the best. Then we’d never have to worry about you hurting Lila again.” His absolute indifference hollowed out the last part of my soul. Suddenly, death didn’t seem so terrifying. “Promise me you will,” I whispered. So I don’t scare anyone else. He didn’t spare me another glance. The ambulance had arrived, and he was busy helping place a weeping Lila onto the stretcher. As she was being loaded in, my mother cast a worried look in my direction. “Adrian, something’s wrong with Aria. Don’t you think… don’t you think we’ve been too hard on her?” My brother snorted. “It’s all an act. How could we be too hard on her? A lesson like this is too light for what she deserves.” The ambulance pulled away, leaving me alone on the street like a piece of garbage. My head grew heavy. As fireworks celebrating the new year painted the sky, the world went dark… The news broke early the next morning. [At dawn on New Year’s Day, sanitation workers on Prosperity Avenue discovered the frozen body of a young woman. The deceased has been identified as a resident from the local orphanage, Aria Gould!]

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1 The day I was brought back to the prestigious Prescott family home, the so-called “real daughter” had only to pout, a slight quiver in her lip. That was all it took for my parents to lay down the law for me. I wasn’t allowed at the dinner table. When we went out, I was introduced as the nanny. As for a single share of the family company? I wasn’t even to think about it. My parents warned me again and again, their voices cold and final. “Everything in this house belongs to Nicole. You won’t get a single penny.” My grandparents were even more protective of her. “Nicole is the Prescott heir. She’ll carry on the family name.” Later, my severe depression relapsed, and I ended my life. But my soul burned with too much resentment, and I was granted another chance. This time, as I opened my eyes in the warm, amniotic darkness, I heard a familiar voice. My grandmother gasped. “Darling… I… I think I’m pregnant!” … Her words left both me and my grandfather stunned. Wait. How did I end up reincarnated in my grandmother’s womb? I glanced down in disbelief and saw a little extra appendage. This time, I was reborn as my grandparents’ late-in-life son. The undisputed heir destined to bring glory to the family. My grandfather’s face was a mask of shock. He immediately summoned the family doctor, who gave my grandmother a full examination. Afterward, even the doctor was flabbergasted. “Mrs. Prescott is indeed pregnant. Mr. Prescott, you’re still as vigorous as ever!” he exclaimed. “And all signs point to a boy. The Prescott line is truly blessed!” At the mention of a son, my grandfather’s face lit up. He declared then and there that they would keep the baby. But my father, Robert, who had been standing by, went pale. “Dad, you can’t let Mom go through with this!” he protested. “She’s nearly sixty! How can her body handle a pregnancy? I’m just thinking of her health!” He sounded concerned, but having been his daughter in a past life, I saw right through his pathetic act. His words were a noble-sounding excuse to prevent a new brother from cutting into his inheritance. My mother, Catherine, quickly chimed in. “He’s right! A woman her age getting pregnant… we’ll be the laughingstock of high society!” My grandmother shot them a withering glare. “In our circles, who would dare laugh at the Prescotts?” Her voice was steel. “Your father and I have made our decision. You have no say in the matter.” I wasn’t surprised they were so determined. After all, my grandmother spent an eight-figure sum annually on health and wellness. Years of pampered living made her look closer to thirty than sixty. Besides, they were already deeply dissatisfied with their only son, a hopeless disappointment. They naturally wanted a do-over. Seeing his objections dismissed, my father’s gaze toward his mother hardened with a glint of malice. When he pulled my mother out of the room to whisper, I was on high alert. With their combined cunning, I knew they wouldn’t let my grandmother’s pregnancy proceed smoothly. Sure enough, that evening, my mother brought my grandmother a bowl of a specially prepared herbal tonic, her face plastered with a sycophantic smile. “Mom, Robert and I made this for you. Pregnancy can be draining, so you need to keep your strength up.” My grandmother, unsuspecting, took the bowl and was about to drink. But I caught a faint, unusual scent mixed in with the herbs. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Just as the bowl touched her lips, I yanked on the umbilical cord and used the momentum to slam myself against the wall of her womb. A sharp pain shot through my grandmother’s abdomen, and she instinctively put the bowl down. She gently caressed her stomach, her smooth, unwrinkled hand tracing circles. “Oh, you little rascal,” she murmured with a weary fondness. “Don’t give your mommy such a hard time.” With the tonic set aside, I relaxed. But my mother was persistent. She picked up the bowl again. “Mom, drink it while it’s hot. The baby will calm down once he has some nutrients.” The moment my grandmother lifted the bowl, I repeated my maneuver, sending waves of pain through her stomach. After several attempts, a flicker of suspicion entered my grandmother’s eyes as she looked at my mother. “It seems my little one doesn’t want me to drink this. My dear daughter-in-law,” she said, her voice dangerously calm, “you didn’t happen to add anything extra, did you?” My mother’s face went white, and she immediately tried to take the tonic away. But my grandmother grabbed her wrist, refusing to let her leave, and called for her private physician. After a quick analysis, the doctor confirmed our fears. The tonic was laced with a lethal dose of abortifacients. My grandfather, who had been summoned by the commotion, turned purple with rage. He stormed in, dragged my father inside from the hallway, and kicked him squarely in the back. “Robert! Your mother has been pregnant for less than a day, and you two are already pulling these stunts? We have been far too lenient with you!” he roared. “The new northwestern branch just opened. The two of you can get out there and ‘gain some experience’! Stop causing trouble for your mother!” 2 As much as my parents hated the idea of leaving the city, my grandfather was the true patriarch of the Prescott family. His word was law. They were shipped off to the northwest that very night, but the fake heiress, Nicole, was allowed to stay. After all, despite having no blood relation, she was still a Prescott grandchild and had to be treated as such. What my grandparents didn’t know was that my parents, though far away, were in constant contact with Nicole, instructing her to find an opportunity to get rid of me. And Nicole, eager to please, played the part of the doting granddaughter perfectly. She spent her days massaging my grandmother’s shoulders and fetching her things. For three months, she was so sweet and helpful that my grandparents’ defenses completely melted. One afternoon, my grandmother had invited some other society matrons over for tea. As she prepared to walk downstairs, the hairs on my arm stood on end. I caught a glimpse of a strange expression on Nicole’s face. In the next instant, my eyes fell on the staircase, which was gleaming with an unnatural sheen from an excessive amount of wax. It was Nicole. She had secretly polished the stairs, hoping my grandmother would slip and fall, causing a miscarriage. No! I would not let them win. I came back in this life for one reason: revenge. Just as my grandmother was about to take a step, I took a running start and barrelled through the womb, crashing from one side to the other. A sudden, sharp pain made her gasp and pull her foot back. “Not even a month old and already causing a ruckus,” she complained, but her eyes were filled with love as she looked down at her belly. Though my grandmother had stopped, the maid who was attending to her had already stepped forward. Her foot hit the slick wood, and she went tumbling down the stairs with a scream. The commotion brought my grandfather running. A sense of dread fell over my grandmother. She knelt, and her fingers immediately found the thick, greasy layer of wax on the stairs. My grandparents were seasoned players in the games of the elite. One look was all it took for my grandfather to understand. He quickly had security pull the surveillance footage. It showed Nicole, in the dead of night, secretly applying the wax. My grandfather’s expression turned to ice. “Nicole, what is the meaning of this?” “You have no blood ties to this family. We raised you for over a decade out of kindness, and in return, you try to murder my son?” His voice was low and dangerous. “A vicious person like you has no place in this house. Get out. Go back to the orphanage where you belong.” At his command, bodyguards moved to drag a stunned Nicole away. She paled, clinging desperately to the doorframe. “Grandpa, Grandma, I didn’t mean it! I was just trying to help clean the house…” she sobbed. “You love me the most, don’t you? Please don’t send me away…” By now, my grandmother had been helped downstairs. Her gaze was frigid as she slapped Nicole hard across the face. “Go and tell your parents,” she said, her voice dripping with venom, “that no one touches the child in my womb.” Inside the womb, I did a joyful somersault. Leave it to the old pros to see right through the scheme to the masterminds behind it. But just as the guards were about to haul Nicole out of the villa, the front door swung open again. My parents stood there, looking travel-worn, and rushed to shield Nicole. “Mom, Dad, Nicole may not be our blood, but she is our family!” my father declared. “We will not be separated from our daughter! And we will not allow you to throw her out!” With her protectors present, Nicole’s confidence returned. She looked at my grandparents with wide, teary eyes. “Grandpa, Grandma, I really didn’t mean to…” Her damsel-in-distress act might have worked on my parents, but not on the old foxes of high society. They could see the treachery in all three of them. My grandfather let out a cold laugh. “Fine. If you’re so inseparable, then you can all get out together!” he boomed. “And from this day forward, you are not to set foot in this villa without my permission!” 3 Though my parents protested, the security guards escorted them from the most opulent mansion in the city’s most exclusive enclave. In the presence of the true head of the family, their words were meaningless. With them gone, my life finally found a measure of peace. My grandparents cherished their late-in-life son. They hired the city’s top private medical team for in-home check-ups and donated an eight-figure sum to a local monastery to pray for my well-being. Before I was even born, trucks delivered mountains of luxury baby goods to the villa. Hermès blankets were deemed worthy only of being used as my playmats. Finally, amid my grandparents’ eager anticipation, I was born: a healthy baby boy. But just as my grandmother was recovering from the delivery, my parents and Nicole appeared at the door. My father’s face was a picture of sincerity. “Dad, we heard Mom gave birth. We came to see her. It was all a misunderstanding before. Now that I see Mom and my little brother are both safe and sound, I can finally rest easy.” He sighed dramatically. “Living apart from you these past months has been torture. As your son, I was worried sick something might happen.” He was, after all, their only son, and his words were soft and apologetic. My grandfather sighed and let them in, even inviting them to stay for dinner. But I knew better. This wasn’t over. The moment the three of them stepped inside, my guard went up. I was a newborn, weak and vulnerable. Harming me would be child’s play. After dinner, Nicole went to the grand piano, announcing she wanted to play a new piece for her grandparents. Seizing the opportunity, my parents slipped into the nursery. As my father looked down at my small face, a shadow of malice crossed his eyes. “You think you can compete with me for the inheritance? I’ll send you to your next life right now!” My mother approached slowly, holding a handkerchief. “Everything the Prescotts have belongs to us,” she hissed. “I’m sending you on your way, you little bastard.” Panic seized me. My body was too weak to even stand. I tried to let out a loud cry to alert my grandparents and the nanny, but it was too late. My mother pressed the chloroform-soaked handkerchief firmly over my mouth and nose. Once they were sure I was unconscious, my father opened the suitcase he’d brought and tossed me inside. “Throw the whole suitcase into the ocean,” he muttered. “Then I can finally relax. Even if Mom and Dad find out, they won’t have the heart to punish their only son.” With me zipped inside, my parents signaled to Nicole, and they made for the door. But just as their hands touched the handle, my grandfather appeared. “Don’t leave,” he said. “Why don’t you stay the night?” It was an olive branch. Normally, my parents would have eagerly accepted. But this time, desperate to dispose of me, my father quickly refused. “That’s all right, Dad. Mom needs her rest. We shouldn’t disturb her.” He and my mother grabbed the suitcase, ready to make a quick exit. But just then, a piercing wail erupted from within the case. My grandfather’s expression changed instantly.

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1 I was the last person the fake heiress saw before she died a brutal death. To find her killer, my parents subjected me to electroshock therapy and hypnosis, desperate to unlock my memories. I was tormented to the brink of insanity, but I couldn’t recall a single detail. The therapist suggested a more radical approach: an experimental “stimulation therapy” at a notorious, off-the-grid facility abroad. My brother, Daniel, agreed on the spot. Then he turned to me and said, “Be a good girl. If you can just remember, we’ll still consider you our daughter.” I held onto those words. I became the most obedient dog in that gilded cage. A bite of food was all it took for me to spread my legs. Then, news broke of a new technology: the Memory Tribunal, a machine that promised a 100% success rate in memory retrieval. The day I heard about it, I called my brother. The line was silent for a long time before he finally spoke. “That tribunal… it’s dangerous. If you don’t want to…” I cut him off with a laugh. “It’s fine.” Just as he hadn’t told me that stepping onto the tribunal was a death sentence, I didn’t tell him that I already knew. For me, death was a release. … When I was led onto the tribunal platform, blindfolded, I was wearing nothing but a piece of revealing lingerie. My body was a roadmap of festering whip marks, with cigarette burns in places no one could see. The stares from the audience below were like knives, but I felt nothing. Finally, my brother arrived with our parents. I lifted my head, wanting to see them one last time. Since the day they had callously sent me away, I had finally accepted my place. As their biological daughter, I wasn’t worth a single hair on the head of the fake heiress, Bianca. After her gruesome death, they had become obsessed with avenging her. As expected, the moment my mother saw me, she flew into a rage. “How dare you dress like that? You’re a disgrace to this family! Bianca was always so vibrant and full of life! How could a cheap little tramp like you ever compare to her?” she shrieked. “You were the last person to see her alive! Why can’t you remember? Remember, damn you!” She tore at my hair, tears streaming down her face. I felt the heat of them on my skin and wondered, if I died, would she grieve for me like this? Probably not. My father made a token effort to restrain her, his own eyes full of disapproval. “Lauren, that’s enough. You’ve made your point.” Then to me, “You’re taking this too far, pretending to have all these injuries just to make us feel sorry for you. Don’t think I don’t know about the decadent life you’ve been living.” I said nothing, my numb gaze drifting to my brother, who quickly looked away. He knew. When he had stormed into that hellhole to bring me home, he had found me on all fours like a dog, waiting to be fed. He had pushed past a line of other girls, searching for me, and when he finally found me, he knew the wounds were real. But he wouldn’t say a word in my defense. It didn’t matter. I had lost all hope in him long ago. I closed my eyes, then opened them again, my expression devoid of any emotion. “Let’s just get this over with. I want to know what happened the day Bianca died even more than you do.” I wanted to be free of this filthy world. I couldn’t bear to live like this anymore. As the technicians began to strap me to the tribunal chair, my brother called out to me. “Lauren, are you sure about this?” I understood his hidden meaning. He was telling me I still had a chance to back out, to live. But I pretended not to understand. Daniel, I thought, this world is too dirty. I don’t want to live in it anymore. I lay down on the platform, allowing them to bind my arms and legs. A technician leaned over me. “Are you doing this of your own free will?” she asked, her voice low. “The Memory Tribunal is still experimental. You will die.” I nodded, forcing a smile. It had been a long time since anyone had shown me such concern. I tried to make the smile as genuine as possible. The technician, her face filled with pity, took the consent form to my parents. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this to your own daughter? Don’t you know that once the process is complete, she will…” My parents cut her off. “We don’t care. We just want to find the person who killed our darling girl and make them pay!” “How much did Lauren pay you to plead her case?” I let out a bitter, silent laugh. Mom, all I did was smile at her. Is that all it takes to buy a person’s heart? Defeated, the technician stepped back and reached for the activation button. I closed my eyes, waiting for my fate. Suddenly, my brother strode forward, stopping the technician’s hand. He pressed something small and hard into my palm. “Hold on,” he whispered. It was a piece of candy. Candy. In that gilded cage, it was a luxury. The things I had to do for a single taste of sweetness… I managed to turn my head and give him a grateful smile. I was about to die anyway. All the humiliation would finally be erased. The tribunal began. A searing pain shot through my mind. I clenched my jaw, enduring it, my hand instinctively tightening around the candy. This was nothing. In that other place, if you survived one torment, there was always another waiting. I was used to it. The large screen above flickered to life, displaying my first memory. A scene of debauchery, filled with screams and cheers. I was there, raising a glass, downing it in one go. The audience below began to whisper. “She’s no good, that one. Living like that… imagine how many men she’s been with.” “Exactly. I bet those scars are from her own sick fetishes. And she has the nerve to play the victim.” My parents looked on, their faces filled with righteous anger, as if I had committed some unforgivable sin. The next second, the scene shifted, and they all froze. I was kicked to the ground, the bottle I had just emptied shoved into my mouth. Someone grabbed my head and slammed it against the floor again and again. The glass shattered, filling my mouth with blood. I begged them to stop, my forehead a bloody mess from kowtowing, before I was dragged away like a dead dog. It happened over and over. Every time my wounds started to heal, someone would come to torture me again. I went from a spirited young woman to a broken, lifeless doll. One of my tormentors spat. “Easy now. We can’t kill her. The boss wants her alive. Wants her to go home a raving lunatic, a public disgrace.” A murmur went through the crowd. Everyone wanted to know who “the boss” was. My parents stood there, stunned. The technician looked at them, her voice filled with pity. “Do you want to continue? Her mental state is… fragile. Perhaps you should find this ‘boss’ and get her justice.” A flicker of hope ignited within me. Mom, Dad, now that you’ve seen what they did to me, do you feel even a little bit of pity? Just enough to let me know that you care? They were silent for a long time. Then my father’s voice rang out, firm and clear. “We will find out who killed Bianca today. As for Lauren, we will compensate her after we have our revenge. She’ll get what’s hers.” The flicker of hope died. My will to live vanished completely. A look of pain crossed my brother’s face. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. In their eyes, I would never be worth as much as Bianca. Lauren, I thought, what more can you possibly hope for? The tribunal continued. The machine pulsed, and my body began to convulse. It felt like a lightning bolt shot from my brain through my entire body. I could smell my own skin burning. The dark screen lit up again. A snarling face filled the screen, causing the audience to gasp. “Remember! You have to remember!” “Why can’t you remember? Why won’t you say it? What happened that day? How did my Bianca die?” It was my mother. She was like a lioness who had lost her cub, vowing to make the killer pay. In the memory, I was on the floor, shaking, trying desperately to remember, but my mind was a fog. “I… I really can’t remember! Please, stop asking me!” I screamed, clutching my head, tears streaming down my face. Why? Why did no one believe me? Why did everyone think I had something to do with Bianca’s death? Why were they blaming me for something I didn’t do? My father stood to the side, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. “If she won’t cooperate, increase the voltage. We need to know the truth.” The truth? The truth was that my parents and my brother had never trusted me. From the day I returned to them, I had walked on eggshells. I never dared to hope for their love, never wanted to usurp Bianca’s place in their hearts. I had tried to stay out of their way. But it wasn’t enough. They wouldn’t leave me alone. On the tribunal platform, tears of blood trickled from the corners of my eyes. My body shook uncontrollably. An audience member pointed me out to my parents. “This is your fault. How can you sacrifice a living child for one who is already gone?” “Look at her! It’s obvious she’s been horribly abused. Even I feel for her. How can her own family be so heartless?” The voltage surged through me again and again. It was so brutal that even the technician couldn’t bear to watch. Just as she was about to shut it down, my parents snapped out of their trance. “Don’t you dare stop! Keep going!” “We haven’t gotten to the day Bianca died yet! No one stops until we do!” My mother ran forward and began to struggle with the technician. “Don’t you understand? Any more of this, and she will die!” Even my brother stepped in, trying to pull our mother back. For the first time, he seemed to feel a pang of remorse for his quiet, suffering sister. “Daniel, have you forgotten Bianca?” my mother cried. “She’s dead! We don’t even have a body! Do you want me to go to my grave without getting justice for her?” My brother’s hands fell to his sides. In the struggle, my mother’s hand accidentally hit a dial on the control panel. The voltage spiked to its maximum level. I coughed up a mouthful of blood. The screen flashed erratically, a chaotic montage of my life. Being switched at birth, my miserable childhood. Cowering in fear, afraid to speak. Standing on a stool to cook for my adoptive family before I was five. At ten, my adoptive father trying to trade me to the local drunk for a lifetime supply of cheap wine. At fifteen, my adoptive mother trying to give me to her brother as an unpaid servant. At twenty, my adoptive parents arguing over how much they could sell me for, right before my real family found me. At twenty-two, being sent to that gilded cage by my own parents, where I spent a year wishing for death. And now, at twenty-three, dying on this tribunal platform, a spectacle for all to see. My family had taken me in, but they had never given me their love. My life had been a quiet, desperate walk on thin ice. Every step I took seemed to be the wrong one. The images flashed faster and faster, then suddenly froze on the day of Bianca’s death. “Look!” someone shouted, pointing at the screen. “What’s happening?” Everyone fell silent and turned to look. A glint of steel in my father’s eyes as he adjusted his glasses. My mother stopped struggling, craning her neck to see. One look, and their eyes widened in horror. “How… How can this be?”

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“What was your name again? How long have you been here?” Mr. Evans didn’t even look up from his desk. Ten years. I had been with this company for ten years. “Lynn,” I said. “Ten years.” “Ah.” He shuffled some papers. “The company’s downsizing. Your position is… expendable. You understand.” Expendable. I almost laughed. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll submit my resignation today.” Mr. Evans blinked, surprised I’d agreed so quickly. “Well… get everything handed over by the end of the week, then.” “Okay.” I turned and walked out. I paused at the door. “Mr. Evans, do you have any idea how many systems this company runs on?” He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I didn’t turn around. “Nothing. I won’t keep you.” 1 My name is Lynn. I’m thirty-five, and I’ve worked at this company for exactly ten years. Ten years. It sounds ridiculous even to me. When I joined back in 2014, we were just a tiny startup with a team of twenty. I was twenty-four, fresh out of college, clueless about everything except how to work my tail off. I built our systems from the ground up. It started with a simple inventory management tool. Then, slowly, I added more. The order management system, the financial system, the supply chain logistics, the CRM… Ten years. Forty-seven systems. The admin account and password for every single one of them are stored in my head. No one ever asked me for them. And I never volunteered them. It wasn’t that I was being secretive. It was that, genuinely, no one ever asked. In this company, I was invisible. How invisible? Today, when the big boss called me in for a chat, his first words were, “What was your name again?” Ten years. He didn’t know my name. Honestly, I should have been used to it. Back when I started, the company was small, less formal. If work needed doing, you did it. Nobody cared who you were. But as we grew, we moved offices three times, expanding from twenty people to over two hundred. And I was still just “the one who does the work.” I was never invited to the important meetings. I was never included in team-building events. At the annual awards ceremony, they’d call out names from sales, marketing, and operations. And IT? “A big thank you to our colleagues in the IT department.” That was it. One line. Not a single name. I’d stopped caring. As long as the paycheck came on time and the work got done, it was fine. Until two months ago. We got a new hire. Amber. Twenty-four years old, a Master’s in computer science from a top university. HR led her to the desk next to mine. “Lynn, this is Amber. She’s new. Could you show her the ropes?” I nodded. Sure. It wasn’t the first time. Then I saw her offer letter with the salary. $15,000 a month. I froze. Me, with ten years of service, made $8,000 a month. Her, a fresh graduate, was starting at $15,000. “Is something wrong?” Amber asked, noticing my expression. “No, nothing,” I said. “Let me walk you through the systems.” I couldn’t sleep that night. It wasn’t anger. It was a strange, hollow feeling. Like a wound I’d kept covered for years had been suddenly ripped open. So this was what I was worth to this company. No, I wasn’t even worth that. The next morning, I got a call. A headhunter. “Ms. Miller? Hello, I’m from a recruitment agency. I’m calling about a Lead DevOps Engineer position at a major tech firm. The starting salary is $24,000 a month. Would you be interested in discussing it?” I was stunned silent for a few seconds. “How did you find me?” “You posted a few technical articles on an industry forum. They were incredibly insightful. Our client specifically requested we find someone with your profile.” The industry forum. I’d written those three years ago. I never thought anyone had noticed. “I’ll have to think about it.” “Of course. Please let me know.” I hung up and looked around the bustling office. Not a single person glanced my way. It was like I was made of air. In that moment, I made a decision. 2 Amber adapted quickly. It’s almost ironic to say it like that. Because “adapting” meant she learned how to perform for the bosses. “Good morning, Mr. Evans!” “Mr. Miller, have you had lunch yet?” “Sarah, I love that dress on you!” She was a sweet talker, all smiles and compliments, and always ready to run an errand. The complete opposite of me. Her desk was next to mine. The first thing she did every morning was her makeup. Then she’d scroll through her phone, chat on social media, and browse online stores. And her work? “Lynn, how do you run this report? Can you show me?” “Lynn, how do I log into this system? What’s the password?” “Lynn, this…” Lynn, Lynn, Lynn. She said it so sweetly. After training her for three days, I realized something. She didn’t know a thing. I’m not exaggerating. She was genuinely clueless. A Master’s from a top university who couldn’t even write a clean SQL query. “This wasn’t my area of research,” she’d said, completely unabashed. “My focus is on AI.” An AI specialist doing IT operations? I didn’t say anything. A job was a job. I’d teach her what she needed to know. But there was one thing I didn’t teach her. The passwords. The admin passwords to all forty-seven systems. I didn’t give her a single one. She asked once. “Lynn, what are the admin passwords for all these systems? I should write them down.” “It’s a lot to remember. Just use a standard user account for now.” “Oh, okay.” She never asked again. And I never brought it up. It wasn’t that I was deliberately hiding them. It was that nobody cared. In ten years, no one besides me knew those passwords. And no one had ever wanted to know. When the systems are running smoothly, who cares who’s maintaining them behind the scenes? It’s like air. You breathe it, but you never thank it. Not until the day it’s gone. A week later, Amber was handling simple issues on her own. I overheard her chatting with a colleague in the breakroom. “Honestly, I think the system architecture here is pretty clunky. If I had designed it, it would be much more efficient.” The colleague asked, “Didn’t Lynn build that system?” “Yeah, but you know how it is with long-term employees. Their tech gets a little outdated. I mean, everyone’s using cloud-native and microservices now. Her whole setup is ancient.” I was standing right outside the door. I didn’t make a sound. Ancient. Alright, then. Let’s see how well you handle something so “ancient.” 3 In early December, a company-wide email went out. “Notification of Organizational Restructuring.” It was a pretty way of saying “layoffs.” The IT department was first on the chopping block. My manager, Mr. Miller, gathered us in a conference room. “The company’s profits have been down the last couple of years, so we have to trim the fat. The IT department needs to let two people go.” Everyone exchanged nervous glances. I already knew. Sure enough, his eyes landed on me. “Lynn, you’re a veteran employee, so I’ll be direct. The company feels… your position can be optimized.” “What does that mean?” “It means…” He cleared his throat. “Amber has been performing very well since she arrived. She can handle most of the workload now. As for you…” He trailed off, but the message was crystal clear. If the new girl can do the job, we don’t need the old-timer. “Mr. Miller,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, “these systems have run without a single major failure for ten years. Whose work is that a credit to?” He smirked. “The system’s stability is a credit to the leadership’s direction. You’re just maintenance. What credit is there to take?” I was speechless. Not because his words were so insulting. But because I suddenly realized that after ten years, this was how they saw me. “Just maintenance.” The one who does the work. Expendable. “Fine,” I said, standing up. “I understand.” “So, you’ll…” “I’m going to talk to Mr. Evans right now.” “About what?” “About my resignation.” Mr. Miller stared, stunned. I didn’t wait for him. I walked straight to Mr. Evans’s office. And that brings us back to the beginning. “What was your name again? How long have you been here?” Ten years. And you’re asking me how long I’ve been here. When I walked out of his office, Amber was walking back with a cup of coffee. “Lynn, what did you need to see Mr. Evans about?” “I’m quitting.” Her eyes lit up for a split second before she masked it with concern. “Oh, Lynn, don’t be impulsive! It’s tough to find a job out there.” I smiled faintly. “Thanks for your concern.” “But if you leave, what about all these systems?” “You’re the one who said they were poorly designed. Here’s your chance to rebuild them.” Her face flushed. “Lynn, I didn’t mean it like that…” “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll leave you all the documentation.” What I didn’t say was: The documentation doesn’t have the passwords. 4 The news spread like wildfire. “Did you hear? Lynn is leaving.” “Yeah, I heard Mr. Evans let her go personally.” “After ten years? Just like that?” “Well, you know, the company has to downsize.” “True. Her job was pretty non-essential anyway.” Expendable. Non-essential. I must have heard those words a dozen times in the last two days. I packed my desk while colleagues walked past without a word. It was as if I was already gone. Sarah from HR came over with a document. “Lynn, this is your separation agreement. You just need to sign here.” I glanced at it. “Where’s the severance pay?” “What severance pay?” “I’ve worked here for ten years. According to labor laws, I’m entitled to a severance package.” Sarah looked flustered. “Well… the company’s position is that you resigned voluntarily. This isn’t a layoff.” I looked at her. “Sarah, I have a recording.” Her face went pale. “Mr. Evans himself told me the company was ‘downsizing’ and my position was ‘expendable.’ That is, by definition, a layoff, not a voluntary resignation.” “You… you recorded him?” “Ten years,” I said with a thin smile. “You pick up a few things.” Sarah took the papers and left. Thirty minutes later, she was back with a new agreement. The full severance package. Not a penny missing. I signed it. Amber watched from her desk, hesitating. “Lynn…” “What is it?” “The passwords for the systems… could you… give me a copy?” I stared at her. “I thought my setup was ancient.” “That’s not what I meant…” “It’s fine.” I stood up. “The documentation is on the shared drive. You can find it there.” What I didn’t say was: The documents only contain operating procedures. Not a single password. If someone had asked for them, I would have given them. But no one asked. Why should I volunteer? Ten years, and no one asked. So don’t blame me for not giving. I packed the last of my things and took one final look at my desk. The armrests of the chair, worn smooth from a decade of use. The partition covered in sticky notes. The little plant that somehow survived even when no one remembered to water it. “Lynn.” I turned. It was Mr. Miller. “Are you really leaving?” “The papers are signed.” “I mean…” He lowered his voice. “You should probably hand over those passwords before you go.” I laughed. “But Manager, didn’t you say I was ‘just maintenance’? Now that the maintenance person is gone, I’m sure the systems will run themselves.” His face darkened. “Don’t play games, Lynn. This is serious.” “I’m not playing.” I picked up my box. “My handover period is one week. The documentation is all there. The passwords?” I paused. “In ten years, you never once asked for them.” I didn’t wait for his reply. I walked out. I heard his voice behind me. “Good riddance! Frees up a seat for someone who’ll actually do some work!” I didn’t look back.

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