My New Year’s Day blind date opened with a demand: two kids in three years. My response? “Are you in a rush to die?” That was enough to make him storm out. But when I went to pay, the waitress informed me that my date hadn’t just skipped out on the bill—he’d added a table’s worth of limited-edition specials before he left. “The total comes to $3,800, miss. How will you be paying?” I tried calling Mark, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He was ghosting me. Left with no other choice, I gritted my teeth, paid the bill, and sent a text message wishing his entire family a very special kind of hell. I had just gotten home that evening when the police showed up at my door. “Mark is dead. And you were the last person to see him alive.” 1 The words hit me like a physical blow, and for a second, my mind went completely blank. My first thought was a chilling one: Did my curse actually work? “Dead? How did he die?” “Based on our preliminary investigation, Mark hanged himself in his home. A neighbor found him and called it in. The medical examiner places the time of death about an hour after you two parted ways.” I met Detective Miles’s gaze, a cold dread creeping up my spine. “So you think I killed him? Officer, you’ve got the wrong person! I’m innocent!” I pleaded. “I admit, things got a little heated at dinner, but we’re adults. I wouldn’t kill him just because I was angry. Besides, there are cameras all along my route home. I didn’t have the time to kill him.” “Are you sure it was just ‘a little heated’?” I nodded without hesitation and recounted our conversation. Detective Miles cut me off. “But according to our information, that meal cost you over three thousand dollars, and you paid for it all yourself. Witnesses at the restaurant said you were yelling at him quite fiercely.” “Damn right I was yelling!” I shot back. “He deliberately ordered a ton of expensive food before he left, sticking me with the bill. What, I’m not allowed to be angry about that?” Sensing my agitation, he tried to calm me down before sliding a bank statement across the table. “Half an hour ago, Mark’s entire bank account was emptied. The funds were transferred into your account. This would have been approximately ten minutes after he died.” He leaned forward. “We checked the street cameras. There’s a fifteen-minute gap where you were in a CCTV blind spot just before you entered your building.” I froze. “So what are you suggesting? That in those fifteen minutes, I went to his house, overpowered a grown man, staged a suicide, and then just casually walked home like nothing happened?” The timeline was absurd. No normal person could move that fast. Detective Miles seemed to realize this, too, and shifted gears, asking me how Mark and I met. Being treated like a murder suspect was starting to wear on me. “It was a blind date,” I said, my voice tight with frustration. “You know how it is, Detective. Once you pass thirty, the dating pool shrinks. I wasn’t looking for a whirlwind romance, just someone reliable to build a life with.” “So I asked my best friend, who runs a matchmaking agency, to keep an eye out for any high-quality candidates.” “She introduced me to Mark six months ago. He was a manager at a big tech firm, made over $40,000 a month, owned his house, his car… On paper, he was perfect. We’ve been seeing each other for the last six months.” I let out a long, weary sigh. “But today, I was planning to officially break up with him. He must have thought I was going to propose, because he launched into this whole list of demands.” Detective Miles tapped his pen on the table. “You said Mark met all your criteria. So why were you breaking up with him? Or was this about his money from the very beginning?” I hesitated, a flicker of unease crossing my face. He saw it and pounced. “You’re the prime suspect in his death. The only way we can find the real killer is if you tell us everything.” I sighed. “His resume was perfect, but he was… rigid. Like I told you, he wanted me to quit my job after we got married, have two kids in three years, and be a perfect little housewife. We weren’t even officially a couple, and he was already trying to check my phone and control who I saw.” “I tried to end it three months ago. He begged me, promised he would change. He didn’t.” I chose my next words carefully. “And in terms of intimacy, there was an urgency to him that was unsettling. I even suspected he had a violent streak. Once you see red flags like that before you’re even married, why wouldn’t you leave?” The detective seized on my last point. “You suspected he had a violent streak?” I nodded. “I was almost certain of it. He was just good at hiding it.” He continued to grill me with questions. Thankfully, I was able to find a shop owner on the street who remembered seeing me during that fifteen-minute CCTV blind spot, confirming my alibi. With a perfect alibi, the suspicion on me temporarily lifted. As I was leaving the station, I met his appraising stare. “From the look on your face, you seem disappointed that I’m innocent.” Detective Miles just stared back at me, his voice flat. “I trust my gut.” I let out a dismissive laugh. “Your gut? Then maybe you should break that bad habit, Detective. Cases are solved with evidence, not feelings.” 2 A heavy rain had begun to fall. I pulled the umbrella I’d packed out of my bag. For once, the weather forecast got it right. On the way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about why Mark would die. A flicker of guilt sparked within me. Could my rejection have hit him so hard that he decided to kill himself? But he never seemed that emotionally fragile. I got home, my mind a storm of questions, and went through the motions of getting ready for bed. As I reached for my towel, the small embroidered whale on it sent a jolt through my brain, like a bolt of lightning. I suddenly remembered something from a month ago. I’d seen a series of strange scars on Mark’s arm. At the time, he’d brushed it off, saying he’d just scraped it. I didn’t think much of it. But now, recalling the image, I realized those marks weren’t from a scrape. They looked like they were carved with a knife. And the shape… it was a spouting whale. A gut feeling told me this could be the real reason for his suicide. I threw my clothes back on and rushed back to the police station. This time, a female officer took my statement. I carefully explained my new theory. After she finished her notes, she took a call, then offered me an apologetic smile. “Ms. Jensen, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit longer. Detective Miles and his team have found a major breakthrough.” Her words made my heart hammer against my ribs. A sense of foreboding washed over me. Half an hour later, Detective Miles returned with several other officers, their coats soaked from the downpour. His eyes immediately locked onto mine. I met his gaze calmly and spoke first. “What did you find, Detective?” Before he could answer, a younger officer next to him gave me a reassuring smile. “We found something that might explain why Mark committed suicide. My colleague said you suspected he might have been involved in one of those ‘Blue Whale’ online groups, the ones that manipulate people into self-harm?” I nodded. He held up a phone. “The M.E.’s report just came in. There are healed scars on Mark’s forearm, consistent with long-term self-injury. We also found this burner phone. Based on the chat logs in this group, it looks like he was being manipulated by this Blue Whale organization, step by step, towards suicide.” “But why?” I asked, confused. “Why would they do that?” The young officer’s voice was filled with disgust. “They’re lunatics. They have this twisted belief that life is suffering and only death can wash away your sins. It’s an illegal cult. They used to target teenagers a few years back, but after a major crackdown, they disappeared. I can’t believe they’re back.” I stared at him, letting it sink in. “So… you’re saying Mark was brainwashed by this group into killing himself?” “Absolutely,” the officer said with conviction. “These people are masters of manipulation.” Hearing that, a wave of relief washed over me. “I hope you catch them all,” I said earnestly. “What they’re doing is monstrous.” But just then, Detective Miles spoke, his voice cutting through the room. “Ms. Jensen, I still think there’s more to Mark’s death.” I turned to him, puzzled. “But you’ve ruled it a suicide, haven’t you?” He looked me straight in the eye. “The Blue Whale challenge has always targeted minors. Mark is the first adult victim we’ve ever seen. Don’t you find that a little strange?” My expression remained perfectly calm. I offered a small smile. “A strong sense of suspicion is a good quality in a detective, I suppose. But like I said before… you need evidence.” With that, I opened my umbrella and stepped out into the storm. The cold rain lashed against my face, the drops stinging my skin. I looked out at the torrential downpour and lowered my eyes. A storm like this could wash away so many things that were never meant to remain. And so could time.

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I had just left the bank after withdrawing some cash for the New Year’s holiday when I noticed the amount on my passbook didn’t add up. After carefully double-checking the balance on the slip and the fifty thousand in my hand, I turned right back around and went to the teller who had served me. I held up the receipt, trying to be helpful. “Excuse me, I think there might have been a mistake with my transaction.” She instantly flew off the handle, pointing a finger right at my nose. “Don’t you understand the policy? All transactions are final once you leave the counter. It’s your responsibility to count it here!” I quickly waved my hands, trying to explain. “No, that’s not it. If you just look again, I was supposed to withdraw fifty thousand, but you’ve put it down as…” The teller cut me off, her voice dripping with impatience. “The form you filled out clearly states that the bank is not responsible for discrepancies once you leave the counter.” “You signed the slip yourself, didn’t you? You confirmed it.” “If everyone who withdrew money could just walk out and come back saying the amount was wrong, do you think the bank would just hand over more cash?” I stood there, stunned. No wonder she was so defensive. She thought I was trying to get more money from her. But the problem was that I had withdrawn fifty thousand, and my passbook said I had deposited fifty thousand. … “What are you still standing there for? Are you deaf?” The teller, Brenda, yelled into the microphone while nonchalantly filing her nails. “There’s a long line behind you. Show some courtesy.” The security guard in the lobby overheard the commotion and came over. I couldn’t help but laugh. Seriously. In my entire life, I had never seen someone trying to give money back to a bank only to be treated like a nuisance and practically swept out the door. I didn’t give up. I pushed the receipt slip further through the glass slot. “Teller 035, let me confirm with you one last time.” “If the bank makes an operational error resulting in an incorrect amount, is it still ‘final once you leave the counter’?” Brenda didn’t even glance at the slip. She couldn’t be bothered to lift her eyelids. “Are you a broken record?” “Can’t you see the huge sign on the wall?” “Once you step away from this counter, whether you have too much or too little, it’s your problem.” “Those are the rules. Understand? The rules!” She emphasized the word “rules” with a sneer, her face a mask of arrogance, as if she owned the bank herself. I took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine.” “You said it yourself.” “The rules are the rules. I’ll abide by them.” I took back my receipt, folded it neatly, and tucked it into my pocket. Brenda scoffed. “Broke people are always so much trouble.” “Security, keep an eye on her. Don’t let her cause any more scenes.” The guard gave me a shove. “Go on, get out of here. Don’t be an eyesore.” I let myself be pushed out of the bank lobby. Outside, I glanced down at the black plastic bag in my hand. Inside was fifty thousand in cash, crisp and red, fresh from the vault, still smelling of ink. I pulled out my passbook again. And opened it to the last page. The bold, black print from the machine was crystal clear: 【DEPOSIT: 50,000.00】 【BALANCE: 150,000.00】 I originally had a hundred thousand in savings. I had intended to withdraw fifty thousand. But that idiot Brenda had processed a “deposit” instead of a “withdrawal.” I looked back at the bank’s grand, golden entrance. And at the metal plaque hanging in a prominent spot: 【CASH IS FINAL ONCE COUNTED AND ACCEPTED. THE BANK IS NOT RESPONSIBLE AFTER LEAVING THE COUNTER.】 I used to think those words were domineering. Now, they looked like the most beautiful words in the world. Since you want to play by the rules, I’ll play by the rules. I didn’t go straight home. Only a fool would do that. Bank systems might be slow, but they weren’t stupid. Sooner or later, they would catch the error. Once Brenda realized her books didn’t balance, her first move would be to freeze my account. I was in the right, but battling a bank in court could drag on for a year or more. I couldn’t afford that. I walked into the commercial bank next door. I pulled out the fifty thousand in cash. “I’d like to make a deposit.” The teller smiled at me like a blooming flower. “Of course, ma’am. One moment, please.” A few minutes later, the fifty thousand in cash was a digital number in my new bank account. But that wasn’t enough. I took out my phone and opened the mobile banking app for the first bank. Staring at the “150,000” on the screen, I didn’t hesitate. I initiated a transfer. The entire amount. The money went into a third-party custody account, territory managed by the securities commission. If the bank wanted to freeze it, the paperwork would be a nightmare. By the time they navigated that maze, I would have already withdrawn the money, converted it to gold bars, and buried it in my backyard. With that done, I finally felt the pangs of hunger. I found a random place to eat. I was halfway through my meal when my phone rang. It was an unfamiliar local landline number. I had a pretty good guess who it was. But I didn’t answer. The buzzing stopped, then started again. Stopped, then started again. A relentless, nagging ghost. I didn’t answer, not because I was scared. It was because I was eating. Answering the phone during a meal is bad for digestion. Especially when it’s to listen to a mad dog barking. I finished the last piece of meat and let out a satisfied burp. The phone was still ringing. This time, it was a mobile number. I leisurely took a napkin, wiped my mouth, and finally answered. Before I could say a word, Brenda’s hysterical shriek erupted from the other end. “Catherine! You bitch!” “Are you tired of living?” “Bring that money back to me right now! Now! Immediately!” I didn’t get angry. I picked my teeth with a toothpick, my voice calm. “Who is this?” “Stop playing dumb! It’s me from the bank! The one who helped you this afternoon!” Brenda’s voice was trembling. I could tell she was on the verge of a breakdown. “Oh, it’s you,” I replied nonchalantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Teller 035?” “Cut the crap! I made a mistake this afternoon! I gave you too much money! No, I deposited it wrong!” “You bring it back to me right now, or I’m calling the police!” “That’s a hundred thousand dollars! It’s a huge amount! If I report it, you’ll go to jail!” I held the phone a little further from my ear. The woman’s voice was grating. When she finally stopped screaming, I spoke slowly. “Miss, are you sure you’re not mistaken?” “I tried to confirm with you multiple times this afternoon.” “You said all transactions were final once I left the counter.” “You even said it was a dream to think you’d correct any mistakes.” “What’s the matter? Is it nighttime already? Time for dreaming?” There was a stunned silence from her end, followed by even more frantic screaming. “I was just angry! Don’t take it so literally!” “Let me tell you, Catherine, you can’t just take the bank’s money!” “This is unjust enrichment! It’s a crime!” “If you don’t return the money, I’ll make you regret it!” I laughed. “What a coincidence.” “I have a big appetite. I can handle anything you throw at me.” “Since you’re calling it a crime, go ahead. Call the police.” “Let them come and arrest me.” With that, I hung up. And blocked her number. You want the money back? There’s a way to ask for things. That condescending tone was not it. I’ll eat a lot of things. But I won’t eat a loss. The next morning, I went to work as usual. As I entered the lobby of my office building, I saw a crowd gathered around the reception desk. In the center of it all was Brenda. She wasn’t wearing any makeup today. Beside her stood a middle-aged man in a suit. That was Mr. Harrison, the branch manager. I’d seen him strolling around the bank lobby before, hands clasped behind his back like a landlord surveying his domain. There were also two police officers. Brenda’s sharp eyes spotted me the moment I walked in. She lunged toward me like a starving wolf spotting its prey, letting out a guttural cry. “That’s her!” “That’s the thief!” “Officers, arrest her!” She charged so fast she almost crashed into me. I sidestepped neatly. She stumbled past, nearly face-planting on the marble floor. The commotion drew the attention of everyone in the lobby. It was the morning rush hour. Colleagues, coming and going, all stopped to watch. The receptionist gasped, covering her mouth. “What’s going on? Who’s saying Catherine stole money?” “No way. She’s always so honest.” “You can’t judge a book by its cover. The bank is here. It must be true.” Whispers buzzed around me like flies. Brenda regained her balance and turned, pointing at me, her finger practically touching my nose. “Catherine! Have you no shame?” “You took the bank’s money and won’t return it! You can run, but you can’t hide!” “Give the money back right now, in front of everyone, and make a public apology, and we’ll let this go.” “Otherwise, I’ll make sure you can’t work in this company anymore!” Her loud accusations made even passersby turn and stare at me. Mr. Harrison adjusted his suit and stepped forward, his expression all business. “Ms. Chen, is it?” “I’m the bank manager.” “Yesterday afternoon, due to an operational error by one of our employees, there was an abnormal fund movement in your account.” “This constitutes unjust enrichment.” “We’ve brought a letter from our lawyer. We hope you will cooperate and return the funds.” “Otherwise, we will be forced to take action.” He spoke in a sanctimonious tone, blaming an “operational error” and threatening “action,” conveniently omitting Brenda’s behavior from the previous day. The police officers approached. The older one looked at me, then at the manager. “Are you Catherine Chen?” I nodded. “I am.” “The bank has filed a report alleging that you have illegally possessed their funds. Is this true?” Before I could speak, Brenda shrieked, “It is! The security cameras have it all! She knew the money was wrong and took it anyway!” “This is theft! It’s fraud!” I looked at her coldly. “Brenda, you can eat whatever you want, but you can’t just say whatever you want.” “You accuse me of stealing. What did I steal?” “You’re the one who handed me the money from the counter.” “You’re the one who printed the slip and had me sign it.” “The entire process was legal and compliant.” “How is that stealing?” Brenda was shaking with rage. “You knew it was a mistake! You even came back to ask about it!” “That proves you knew!” “Knowing and not reporting it, and taking advantage of the situation, that’s a crime!” I laughed. Loudly. So loudly that everyone around me looked confused. “That’s right, I came back to ask.” “I came back out of the goodness of my heart to remind you that you might have made a mistake.” “But what did you say to me?” I took out my phone. And played a recording. I turned the volume up to the maximum. The lobby fell silent. Only the sharp, condescending voice of Brenda echoed through the space. 【Don’t you understand the policy? All transactions are final once you leave the counter.】 【You signed the slip yourself…】 【If everyone who withdrew money could just come back… do you think the bank would just hand over more cash?】 【Get lost! Don’t hold up the line!】 The recording was short. But it was explosive.

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On Christmas Eve, my father was named one of the ten most inspirational people of the year. He’d donated the entirety of his $300,000 Hero of the Year prize to the son of a fallen comrade. The host asked him, “Captain Kane, we heard your own daughter is also seriously ill. Wasn’t this money her last hope?” My father hugged the boy, Jake, and faced the entire nation with tears in his eyes. “It’s true that my daughter needs this money to live,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But Jake… Jake doesn’t have a father anymore. My daughter, at least she still has me. I know she’ll understand and support my decision.” On the television, thunderous applause elevated him to sainthood. Meanwhile, in the cold sterility of my hospital isolation ward, I stared at the bright red “BALANCE INSUFFICIENT: MEDICATION HALTED” stamp on my bill and calmly dialed the number for a national news outlet. “Want to see the other side of a hero?” I asked. “I’ll give you a live feed.” … The head nurse came in just as I was finishing the last of my nutrient drip. I pulled the needle out, and a single bead of blood welled up. I pressed it with a cotton swab. “Anna, your mother’s not answering her phone. Where’s your father? If this bill isn’t paid today, we’ll have no choice but to stop your treatment.” I managed a weak smile, my lips cracked and dry, and pointed to the television mounted on the wall. “He’s a little busy. It’s a live national broadcast.” On the screen, my father, David Kane, was holding Jake, telling the cameras his three-year story of atonement. He painted Jake as a fragile, sensitive soul who needed the world’s protection. And me? In his story, I was the understanding, strong daughter who supported her father’s every noble decision. The nurse followed my gaze and froze. “Captain Kane? The hero? That’s your father?” “The one and only. An inspiration to the nation.” She seemed star-struck, forgetting about the bill for a moment. “Your father is a hero. That’s incredible,” she said, trying to comfort me. “You have to be understanding. The pressure on him must be immense. Look how good he is to his comrade’s son. He must be even better to you.” I didn’t say a word. I just pushed the red overdue bill from my nightstand toward her. “Balance insufficient. Seventy-eight thousand dollars in arrears. If the money for the specialty drug doesn’t arrive today, the infection will cause multiple organ failure.” The nurse picked up the bill, glanced at the television where the eloquent hero was speaking, and then back at me. The world probably seemed surreal to her in that moment. “Doesn’t… doesn’t he know?” “He knows.” How could he not? An hour ago, my mother had called him over thirty times. He didn’t answer once. I sent him one last text. 【Dad, I can’t hold on. The doctors say if I don’t get the medicine, I’m going to die.】 He finally replied. 【Anna, I’m on the show. So proud of how understanding you are. The whole country is praising you. Hang in there.】 I held the phone up for the nurse to see. “That’s… that’s impossible! He’s a hero!” “Yes,” I repeated. “He’s a hero. And a hero’s daughter should make way for her father’s honor, right?” On the TV, the host presented a giant red envelope. “Captain Kane, this is your $300,000 Hero of the Year prize! We all know how crucial this money is for your daughter’s illness!” My father didn’t take it. He pushed Jake forward and announced, “I’ve decided to donate the entire sum to the son of my fallen brother, Captain Miller!” The studio erupted. My father held Jake, crying like a child. Jake wiped away his own tears, moved by the gesture. It was a portrait of profound fatherly love, a moment to inspire a nation. The nurse stared at me, her mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. I smiled at her. Then, right in front of her, I picked up the phone from under my pillow. Unlock. Dial. The call connected almost immediately. A man’s voice, irritated at being disturbed on Christmas Eve, answered. “Hello? Who is this? Do you know what number you’ve called?” “Hello, is this Mr. Davis from ‘The Davis Report’?” “This is he. Do you have a news tip?” His professional instincts kicked in. I looked at my father’s glorious, noble face on the screen. “Want to see the other side of the hero, David Kane?” “I’ll give you a live feed.” Three years ago, I wasn’t this ghost. I had just been diagnosed with stage-two leukemia. The doctors said the cure rate was high. My mother held my hand, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. My father was the calm one, patting her back. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. It’s just money, right? I’ll work myself to the bone to earn it. We will cure our Anna.” And for that first year, he did. He took every shift, every dangerous call, earning several commendations. Until the chemical plant fire. My father was the first commander on the scene. Captain Miller was his second. When the explosion happened, my father ordered Captain Miller’s team to brace a collapsing support wall while he ran to save a child crying in a corner. He saved the child. Captain Miller never came out. From that day on, everything changed. My father became a hero who had saved a life, but in his own mind, he became the sinner who had killed his best friend. He started having sleepless nights, clutching Captain Miller’s photo and weeping. Then, he channeled all that guilt into a bottomless well of compensation for Jake. Jake. The child he’d rescued. Captain Miller’s only son. I remember it so clearly. The doctor told us they’d found a bone marrow match in a neighboring city. All my dad had to do was go handle the paperwork, and the transplant could be scheduled for the following week. It was my best chance at a full recovery. My mom was so excited she could barely speak. But my dad was silent. “What’s wrong, David? Aren’t you happy?” my mom asked, confused. “It’s not that… Jake’s school has a camping trip tomorrow. To the beach. He’s been wanting me to go with him. He just lost his dad. I promised Miller I’d take care of his boy.” The smile froze on my mother’s face. “A camping trip can happen anytime! Is playing with him more important than your daughter’s life?” “How can you say that! Anna’s illness can wait, but Jake’s trauma can’t! He needs me more than she does right now! Don’t you understand?” “No, I don’t! All I know is that my daughter is dying!” my mom screamed, breaking down. “Can’t you just try to see it from my side!” My father punched the wall, plaster dust showering down. “I owe Miller a life! Every time I close my eyes, I see him crushed under that wall! If I don’t do right by his son, I’ll never be able to live with myself!” It was the first time I’d ever seen him so hysterical. In the end, he went. He drove off with a car full of snacks and a brand-new tent to watch the sunrise with Jake. My mom cried in the hospital hallway all night. A week later, the hospital informed us that the bone marrow donor had backed out for family reasons. The perfect window for my transplant had closed. My dad came back from the beach, tanned and wearing a seashell necklace. He held it out to me, his face a mask of apology. “Anna, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here. Look, Jake made this for you. Isn’t it pretty?” I didn’t take it. I just asked him, “Dad, if it were Jake lying here in this bed, would you have gone camping with me?” He stared at me, stunned, and then his face contorted with rage. “How can you even think that? You’re being so selfish!” From that day on, my condition began to worsen. And the label of “selfish” was stuck firmly to me. The worst fight was over a house. My constant chemotherapy had drained our savings. My mother, an accountant at a large corporation for thirty years, had managed to save $500,000, a nest egg for my eventual bone marrow transplant. One day, Captain Miller’s widow, Mrs. Miller, showed up at our door, looking hesitant. “David, I’m so sorry to bother you again.” My dad jumped to his feet. “Sarah, what is it? Is something wrong with Jake?” “Oh no, it’s about his schooling. He’s starting middle school soon, and the school in our district isn’t very good. I was just thinking… maybe… maybe we could get him a place downtown, in a better school district.” My dad immediately puffed out his chest. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Sarah. Leave it to me!” Mrs. Miller’s face lit up. “I knew I could count on you, David! I’ve already looked at a condo in the Academy Square building. It’s just a bit pricey. The down payment… it’s $500,000.” My mother was in the kitchen cutting fruit. Her hand slipped, and the knife clattered to the floor. She rushed out, blocking my father’s path. “David! Are you insane? Where are we going to get that kind of money?” “What do you mean?” he shot back, glaring at her. “You have it.” My mother stared at him in disbelief. “That’s Anna’s life savings! For her treatment! Don’t you dare touch it!” “Why are you so selfish!” he roared. “Anna’s treatment can be managed! Jake’s education is critical! What if we ruin his entire future? How could I face Miller in the afterlife?” “Face him? You’re going to use your own daughter’s life to face him?” My mother was shaking with rage. “He’s not a stranger! He’s Miller’s only son! God, you are such a heartless woman! Miller died for me! What’s wrong with me buying his son a house? I owe him this!” “You don’t owe him! It was an accident! Stop using that as an excuse!” “You don’t know anything!” He shoved my mom aside, stormed into the bedroom, and came out with the bank card that held the $500,000. My mother scrambled up from the floor and clung to his leg, sobbing. “David, I’m begging you, you can’t take this money! Anna will die! She’ll really die!” “Die, die, die! That’s all you ever say, like you’re cursing her!” He kicked her away. “Let me tell you something. Even if something does happen to Anna, that would be her fate! She should consider it an honor to help her father atone!” He slammed the door and was gone. Mrs. Miller, who had been standing in the doorway, stepped inside to help my mother up. “Now, now, don’t blame David. He’s just trying to do right by us. Don’t worry, when my Jake grows up and makes something of himself, he’ll never forget what you did for him.” And so, Jake got his condo in the best school district in the city. And I, without the funds for more effective treatment, went from stage two to stage four. The doctor said my remaining time was to be measured in months. The day my father came home with the deed to Jake’s new home, my mother asked for a divorce. He just tore the papers into shreds. “Don’t be ridiculous. Think of my reputation. David Kane can’t have ‘divorced’ next to his name.” On Christmas Eve, my fever spiked, and a severe lung infection set in. The doctor issued a critical condition notice. A drug called Gleevec was my only chance, but a single injection cost $20,000, and the follow-up treatment was a bottomless pit of expenses. My mother knelt in the doctor’s office, her cries echoing in the hallway. “Doctor, please, just give us a few more days! Her father’s prize money is coming through! It’s $300,000! It’s more than enough!” That prize was my last hope.

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I’m the adopted daughter. And I just slept with my brother. It might have been okay if he were single, but just the other day he asked me, “What kind of things do you girls like?” I teased him, “Are you telling me I’m getting a sister-in-law?” “I’m planning on it,” he’d said, a casual glint in his eye. My heart sank into an icy abyss. Wrecking a relationship is just asking for bad karma. So, I packed my bags in the middle of the night and left a ridiculous note: “I’ve found my purpose in life. I’m going to be a wildlife photographer. Off to chase my dreams abroad. Goodbye Mom, Dad, and big brother!” Two weeks later, I was in the middle of the African savanna, being chased by a pack of hyenas. A passing jeep screeched to a halt and rescued me. I was about to pour out my thanks when a pair of warm fingers closed around my wrist, resting on my pulse. A man’s smile, both tender and cruel, met my eyes. “Get out, little sister,” he said. “Or kiss me. Your choice.” 1 I was an orphan. My earliest memories are of the orphanage. But I was pretty. And as everyone knows, a pretty face can change your luck. When I was five, I was adopted. My new family was wealthy. Like, seriously wealthy. I went from pauper to princess overnight. More than that, my adoptive parents weren’t just rich; they were full of love. My dad adored my mom and didn’t want her to go through the strain of a second pregnancy, but my mom had always wanted a daughter. So, they decided to adopt. I was the lucky one chosen to be their little girl. I also gained an older brother, who was three years my senior. My parents were wonderful to me, and so was my brother. I finally had a happy family. I always believed that happiness would last forever, that I’d still be a happy old woman at eighty. If only it hadn’t been for the incident. 2 I woke up to the feeling of a warm, sculpted abdomen beneath my hand. It felt… nice. Acting on pure instinct, my fingers traced the lines twice more. The skin under my touch quivered, and the steady breathing above my head grew heavy. I felt a stirring deep inside my body. Wait a minute… Inside my body? My eyes flew open in horror. This was… this was depraved! I buried my face in my hands, unable to face reality. But ignoring reality doesn’t make it disappear. The man holding me began to stir. He stroked my back, his voice a low, raspy murmur. “Can’t keep your hands to yourself this early in the morning?” A bolt of lightning shot through me. That voice… It was flu season, and my brother, Caleb, had caught a bad cold. Tone aside, his voice when he was sick was just as raspy as this. Could this man be… The chaotic memories of last night flooded back. A party, alcohol, a dizzying heat. Then, a series of images that shouldn’t be described. And his commands. “Open for me.” “Relax.” … What the hell was all this?! My mind frantically searched for more clues. Amidst the chaos, I remembered Caleb calling me his “wife.” I am not his wife. I’m his sister. Oh, God. He must have mistaken me for someone else. And worse, he really did have someone he was interested in. Just a month ago, after finishing my thesis defense, I was lazing around at home, getting underfoot. My dad, tired of seeing me, handed me a black card and told me to go bother my brother. One roof was as good as another, so I happily moved into Caleb’s place. I spent my nights gaming and my days sleeping. He couldn’t stand it and dragged me to work with him at his company. After a soul-crushing week of that, he was at it again, trying to pull me out of bed. “Caleb, seriously,” I moaned in despair. “Just get a girlfriend, will you? Please, just leave me alone.” He stood over me, looking down from his great height. Hearing my plea, he slowly leaned in, his face getting closer and closer to mine. He raised an eyebrow. “A girlfriend?” I nodded eagerly. “Yes! You get a girlfriend, I’ll ask Mom and Dad if I can move back home, and I’ll be completely out of your hair!” He let out a soft chuckle. “There are so many girls who like you,” I pressed on. “Isn’t there a single one you’re interested in?” Caleb, with his family, his looks, and his own formidable talents, was the ultimate catch. The line of women interested in him was a mile long. “There is one, actually,” he said, his voice laced with meaning. “Then go for it!” “We’ll see.” And with that, he hauled me out of bed and off to work, as usual. My persuasion attempt had failed. But that day at lunch, he asked me, “What kind of things do you like?” I chewed on a piece of braised pork. “I like to eat. Why are you asking?” “You’re the one who told me to go for it. So, what do you girls like?” My eyes lit up. “Am I getting a sister-in-law?” “Just answer the question,” he said with a small smile. How was I supposed to know? People’s tastes are different. I could only go by my own preferences. “Get her something good to eat. If that doesn’t work, just give her money. Who doesn’t like money?” A month passed. Just two days ago, I asked him how things were going with his mystery girl. He shot me a look. “She’s a little dense.” Dense. So… was that why he was so forward last night? But he was forward with the wrong person! I was starting to panic. The hand on my back was now shamelessly roaming, tracing a path from my shoulder blades to the small of my back, and then lower. Caleb nibbled on my earlobe. “Such a good girl. You did so well. You deserve a reward.” Thanks, but no thanks. A reward was the last thing I wanted. I racked my brain, trying to figure out how to escape without him realizing who I was. He was already turning me over to face him. Wait… what kind of reward? Was this a reward for me or for him? Soon, I couldn’t speak at all, only manage a series of muffled whimpers. Caleb held me tight from behind, my mind a complete blank. He kissed my neck. “Why aren’t you calling me ‘brother’ today? Cat got your tongue, little sister?” He and his girlfriend had such… common pet names. Considering his commands last night and this talk of rewards, my brain took a vacation and blurted out, “Shouldn’t I be calling you ‘Master’?” “Oh?” The voice behind me was thick with amusement. “We can certainly do that, if you’d like.” “No, I…” He cut me off. “On your knees.” 3 I was starting to worry about my future sister-in-law. I hoped she was a fitness enthusiast. Otherwise, she was going to die in Caleb’s bed. At this intensity, he could probably handle eight girlfriends at once. I lay half-dead in his arms, not daring to look up, and we slept in that intimate tangle for what felt like an eternity. He, on the other hand, was still bursting with energy. When I finally stirred again, rubbing my eyes, he whispered in my ear, “Rested up?” Those words gave me PTSD. No, I was not rested up. I cleared my throat, altering my voice. “I really can’t… I need more sleep.” He stroked my hair. “It’s already afternoon.” If I didn’t sleep, he would… I pressed my forehead against his chest and pleaded softly, “Please.” Then, I added, “Brother.” Compared to the name that had escaped my runaway brain, it seemed he preferred his girlfriend to call him ‘brother.’ I was desperate. His tone softened even more. “Alright, sleep. When you wake up, we’ll have dinner.” I closed my eyes, my mind racing. How could I get him out of here? Before I could come up with a plan, Caleb’s phone rang. He silenced it after a single ring and answered in a low voice, careful not to wake me. “Mom? Why are you calling at this hour?” Mom? I peeked through my lashes and saw him gently move me out of his arms, grab a robe from a nearby chair, and walk toward the balcony. I could just make out snippets of his conversation. “She’s with me… sleeping… she was really tired…” What was he telling her? He slid the balcony door shut behind him, leaning casually against the railing as he talked. I silently slipped out of bed and tiptoed over. I pulled the heavy curtains closed. And then. Click. I locked the balcony door. Caleb was trapped. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and frantically looked for my clothes. I had to get out of here before he called for backup. It was a hotel room, so the closets were empty. My clothes were scattered on the floor. My bra was torn. I salvaged what was wearable, thankfully it was winter so I had layers. I pulled on my clothes and then snatched Caleb’s trench coat, throwing it over everything. Finally, I gathered the ruined items, stuffed them in a bag, and took them with me. It was the fastest I’d ever gotten dressed in my life. Just as I was about to slip out, I heard Caleb knocking on the glass. His voice was muffled. My guilty conscience must have been playing tricks on me, because I could have sworn I heard him say, “Irie, why did you lock the door?” My heart leaped into my throat. I had to be hearing things. Iris, you definitely misheard him! He couldn’t have said Irie! Stop scaring yourself. My heart hammered against my ribs. I pulled my hat down, covered my face, and ran. 4 I wanted to go home, but I’d been living at Caleb’s for a month. Showing up suddenly would be weird. If Mom and Dad asked if we’d had a fight, what would I say? If Caleb was sensitive enough, my disappearance might make him connect the dots. But if both of us disappeared, he’d be looking for his girlfriend, not me. I was his dearest little sister. Who would ever suspect their own sister? Decision made, I went back to Caleb’s apartment, locked the door, and headed for the shower. Finally, a chance to assess the damage. The reflection in the mirror was a disaster. My neck, my collarbones, my breasts, my waist, my thighs—everywhere, there were marks from Caleb. The worst spots were red and swollen. As I cleaned myself up, I cursed him. Didn’t he know about protection? What if I got pregnant? No, wait. I remembered now. He had taken something. A pill. He’d taken it out of his coat pocket. The hotel only provided condoms. I felt the pocket of the trench coat I’d stolen. Sure enough, there was a small bottle inside. Holy crap. Why was he carrying this around? Did he have a date planned with his girlfriend last night? It was over. I was truly screwed. The other woman everyone hated… was me. I collapsed onto the bed. It couldn’t have been entirely my fault. Caleb mistook me for someone else; that had to be at least half the blame. I just felt sorry for his girlfriend. She was the real victim. Speaking of which, who even was she? I’d never met her. 5 It didn’t matter. She was the rightful queen. I was so miserable that I eventually cried myself to sleep. I had a nightmare. A woman whose face I couldn’t see was chasing me with a bloody dagger. I ran and ran, but she caught me and stabbed me in the neck, cackling, “You cheating dogs can die together!” And just like that, I was dead, my body tossed in a pile with Caleb’s dismembered corpse. At least I only got stabbed once. The woman then produced a long sword and skewered us both together like a kebab. I woke with a jolt. What a terrifying dream. What was even more terrifying was the first thought that popped into my head when I woke up. —I could really go for some kebabs right now. I must be losing my mind.

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New Year’s Day was dawning, and I’d been behind the wheel all night, driving my wife, Sophie, and her best friend, Jessica, back to our hometown for the holiday. We were almost there when Jessica suddenly hit play on a video. “They say the only way to see a man’s true colors is to push him to his breaking point,” a chipper voice from her phone announced. “If he can stay calm while you create chaos, congratulations, you’ve married a one-in-a-million man.” The words sounded absurd to me. I glanced over as she and Sophie started chatting about it, not paying it much mind. But then, Jessica’s next words sent a chill down my spine. “Hey, Sophie,” she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Alex is always so patient… you ever wonder if it’s all an act?” “You should grab the wheel,” she giggled. “You know, just to see what he does.” 1. The moment the words left Jessica’s mouth, my relaxed posture vanished. I sat bolt upright, the exhaustion from the all-night drive evaporating in a flash of adrenaline. Seeing my reaction, Jessica clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Look at him, he’s terrified! Haha, I was just kidding with Sophie, Alex. Don’t worry.” “Just focus on the road,” she added. “Don’t get distracted.” I shot a look in the rearview mirror. They seemed to be laughing it off, so I let out a slow breath, my heart rate gradually returning to normal. We’d just gotten off the highway, trading smooth asphalt for a narrow, winding mountain pass that was the last stretch home. The road was old, neglected, and pockmarked with potholes. To our right, a sheer cliff dropped hundreds of feet into a foggy abyss. If Sophie actually grabbed the wheel here, the three of us would be taking a one-way trip to the bottom. “Maybe don’t make jokes like that again,” I said, my voice colder than I intended. The fatigue and the intense focus required for the road had worn my patience thin. Jessica looked embarrassed and mumbled, “I was just trying to liven things up a bit.” Sophie, however, seemed to think I was out of line. She slapped my shoulder, not playfully. “What’s your problem, Alex? Jess was just trying to break the silence.” “And you,” she continued, her voice rising, “you’ve been quiet as a tomb this whole ride. Anyone would think you’d lost a fortune.” I was too tired to argue. I figured if I just stayed quiet, she’d run out of steam. “Are you listening to me?” But she wasn’t done. She leaned forward and jabbed a finger into the side of my head. “Alex, did you even hear a word I said?” That push frayed my last nerve. “I’m driving, Sophie.” My curt reply was like a lit match to a fuse. She exploded. “What kind of tone is that! It’s bad enough you ignore me, but now you’re snapping at me? You think you’re so special just because you’re driving?” Her shrill voice felt like a spike being driven into my foggy brain. The exhaustion was now mixed with a deep, suffocating frustration. I didn’t even want to open my mouth. Thinking about Jessica in the back seat, I tried to de-escalate. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Can we please just not fight? We’re almost home.” Seeing the tension flare, Jessica tried to play peacemaker. “It’s okay, Sophie. It was my fault, I shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s just calm down. It’s a holiday, we should be happy.” But Sophie wasn’t having it. She brushed Jessica’s hand away, her voice climbing several octaves. “No! He needs to explain himself, right now.” “Alex, what do you mean, I’m fighting? I’ve been with you for six years! I had your children, I took care of your parents, and for what? For this?” “When you were broke and couldn’t afford a down payment, I was the one who swallowed my pride and begged my dad for the money! You didn’t seem to mind my ‘fighting’ then, did you?” She was dredging up the past again. I just wanted to shut down. When my business was taking off, I’d suggested we wait to have kids. She insisted, saying her family was getting impatient and that she’d handle everything while I worked. I agreed. Then she complained that raising kids was too exhausting. Her parents always had an excuse not to help. So, my parents dropped everything, left their life in our hometown, and moved to the city to help her. Last year, she kicked them out and sent them back home because my mom said one wrong thing. And the money from her dad? I told her I could get a loan. But she insisted on asking him, and over the years, I’d funneled so much money back to her family I’d lost count. Renovating their house, buying her parents a new car, paying for her brother’s wedding. I never threw any of that in her face. But every little thing she did for me was a debt I was never allowed to forget. My silence only fueled her rage. She took it as an admission of guilt. “Don’t you dare play dead with me! We’re not finished until you answer me.” “Say something!” she shrieked. We were approaching a sharp curve in the road. Before I could even start the turn, Sophie lunged forward, her hands closing over the steering wheel. She yanked it hard to the right. My foot slammed on the brake instinctively. The world erupted in a gut-wrenching screech of tires against gravel. With a sickening crunch of metal, the car jolted to a halt, half-suspended over the abyss. 2. My hands were clamped on the wheel, my entire body rigid. My heart was in my throat. Through the windshield, the mist rising from the bottom of the cliff felt close enough to touch. If I hadn’t wrestled the wheel back in that split second, the car and all three of us would be tumbling into that endless void. I threw the car into reverse and floored it, tires spinning until we were safely back on the narrow road. Only then did my mind catch up to what had just happened. I turned to look at Sophie’s face, and the dam of my control finally broke. “Are you insane?” I roared. “Do you have any idea how close we just were? Did you want to kill us all?” The near-death experience hadn’t shocked her into sanity. If anything, it made her angrier. “Don’t you blame me for your terrible driving,” she sneered. “Typical. Men are all the same. The second something goes wrong, you look for someone else to blame.” I stared at her, a mixture of fury and despair churning in my gut. Just then, the driver of the other car was wrenching my door open and dragging me out onto the road. “What the hell is wrong with you? You almost killed my entire family!” He was coming from the opposite direction. Sophie’s stunt had sent us veering directly into his path. In a strange twist of fate, hitting his car might have been the only thing that stopped us from going over the edge. “Man, I’m so sorry,” I stammered, my head still spinning. “I’ve been driving all night, I’m exhausted.” “Just tell me what the damage is. I’ll pay for everything.” It was my fault, plain and simple. “Pay for it?” he spat. “My wife is pregnant! If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you responsible for the rest of your life.” A cold dread washed over me. I glanced at his car and saw a woman cradling a large belly in the passenger seat. “Honey, stop shouting,” she moaned. “My… my stomach really hurts.” I rushed over to her side, my panic rising. Then I saw it, a dark stain spreading on the fabric of her seat. Blood. “Okay, don’t worry,” I said, fumbling for my phone. “I’m calling an ambulance right now. I’ll cover all her medical bills, all the aftercare, whatever you need. Name a price, I’ll pay it. Just please, let’s get her help.” Seeing my genuine panic and willingness to take responsibility seemed to cool his temper slightly. But of course, that was Sophie’s cue to storm out of the car. She shoved me aside, glanced dismissively at the pregnant woman, and then turned on the husband. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a baby,” she said with a shrug. “A little bump isn’t going to kill her. Don’t you dare try to shake us down for money.” “I saw the whole thing,” she declared, pointing a finger at him. “You deliberately swerved into us.” Her friend Jessica chimed in from beside her. “That’s right. You can’t pin this on us.” The man’s barely contained rage exploded. “I swerved into you? Are you out of your mind? You lying…” He drew back a fist, but his wife cried out again. “Mark, please! It hurts so much.” He shot me a look of pure hatred, then settled for landing a solid punch on my jaw before rushing back to his wife’s side. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” Knowing I deserved it, I quickly pressed my business card into his hand. “Dude, just get her to the hospital. Call me for anything you need. Anything at all.” He smacked my hand away, his eyes burning into mine. “I don’t need your damn card. I know who you are, Alex. You and your family just wait. If anything happens to my wife, I swear to God, I’ll make your whole family pay.” With that, he peeled out, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Watching him disappear, a heavy sense of dread settled in my stomach. His final words echoed in my ears. But Sophie was completely oblivious, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Look at you, throwing money around like it’s nothing. I ask for a new purse and you act like I’m bankrupting you, but you’ll hand over cash to some random tramp without blinking an eye.” Her words pushed me over the edge. “What is wrong with you? That’s a person’s life we’re talking about!” “What’s it got to do with you?” she yelled back, unflinching. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You should be grateful I’m not making them pay for our car.” This wasn’t the first time she’d been this unreasonable, but the other times had been about small things, things I could let go of. This was different. I was broken. She knew this was her fault. She knew what she had done, yet she stood there without a shred of remorse. In that moment, the woman I married felt like a complete stranger. I didn’t want to argue anymore. I just pulled out my phone to call the police. 3. The second she saw me dialing 911, she lunged. “What are you doing, Alex? Are you calling the cops on me? On your own wife? How could you be so cruel?” She snatched the phone from my hand and ended the call. “I gave you the best years of my life, and now you’re going to turn me in for some stranger? Are you even human?” Jessica joined in, trying to reason with me. “She’s right, Alex. Sophie was just looking out for you. What if they are trying to scam you? You shouldn’t be so quick to throw away money.” I almost laughed at their ignorance. It wasn’t funny. “I’m reporting the accident to the traffic police so we can file an insurance claim,” I explained, trying to keep my voice even. “And it creates a record. If he decides to sue us later, we’ll have an official report. Otherwise, it’s just his word against ours, and things could get much worse.” I thought I’d made it perfectly clear. But Sophie just glared at me. “You seem awfully concerned about helping him. I think you’ve got something else on your mind.” I gave up. Another word with her and I’d lose my mind completely. When the traffic police arrived, they took our statements and issued an accident report. After they left, I called my parents back home and asked about the guy, Mark. He said he knew me, but his face drew a complete blank. I’d memorized his license plate, and when I read it to my dad, it clicked. “That’s Mark Jensen,” my dad said. “You guys were best friends in elementary school. His family lives right across the street from us. How could you forget?” It had been too long since I’d been back. I’d lost touch with everyone. If we had that connection, maybe this could be resolved more easily. I asked my mom to contact Mark’s parents and give them five thousand dollars for now, just to cover immediate expenses. My parents did as I asked, no questions asked. But in Sophie’s eyes, this act of goodwill was a confession of guilt. “Who are you sending money to?” she demanded, peering at my phone. I ignored her. That only confirmed her suspicions. “You’re cheating on me, aren’t you? Is that your mistress? You’re sending her money?” “Give me your phone. Give it to me!” Her eyes were red and wild, her face a mask of profound betrayal. To any outsider, she looked like the victim. “You’re insane,” I muttered, getting back into the driver’s seat. My insult was all the provocation she needed. She grabbed onto me, refusing to let go, her voice a torrent of accusations. “Get out of the car! Tell me who she is! I have done nothing but be a good wife to you, and this is how you repay me? You’re a monster, Alex!” “Everyone thinks you’re such a wonderful husband, so good to me. But I know the truth. You checked out of this marriage a long time ago, didn’t you?” She was crying and screaming in my ear, and I had reached my limit. Still, I forced myself to explain that I was paying Mark to avoid a bigger conflict. Her response shut me down completely. “That’s my money. How dare you give our money to a stranger without my permission?” I laughed. A hollow, empty sound. Then I fell silent. She really had no idea I was doing this to save her. 4. I didn’t bother explaining further. I just told them to get in the car. Jessica was already in the back seat, but Sophie stood her ground, staring at me with a look of deadly seriousness. “You didn’t answer my question. Why did you take my money and give it to someone else?” My brow furrowed. Her relentless, irrational behavior had pushed me to the absolute edge. “What do you mean, your money? Do I not have the right to spend the salary I earn?” “None of this would have even happened if you hadn’t grabbed the steering wheel!” “So you are blaming me!” she cut in, her voice sharp as glass. “It was your hands on the wheel when you hit him! Don’t you dare try to pin this on me!” I was stunned into silence. A minute ago, she was claiming Mark hit us. Now, she was saying I hit him. “What do you want, Sophie?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “I want you to apologize. And I want you to get that five thousand dollars back.” “If you don’t,” she added, her eyes glinting, “I’ll call the police and tell them you tried to murder me.” Any desire I had to communicate with her was gone. I held out my phone. “Call them.” Seeing that she was serious, Jessica finally spoke up. “Sophie, come on. Let’s just go home, okay?” “Home? There is no home until he apologizes. If I’m going down, I’m taking everyone with me.” Without another word, she dialed 911. She told the dispatcher I was driving recklessly and had deliberately caused an accident, a clear case of attempted murder. When the police arrived, they found only our car at the scene. “You’re the one who called?” an officer asked Sophie. “Where’s the injured party?” “He’s already been taken to the hospital,” she said, pointing at me. “It was him, officer. He crashed into them.” The officer glanced at me, then back to Sophie. “And not only that,” she added, “he secretly transferred five thousand dollars from my bank account.” The officer’s brow furrowed. “What’s your relationship? And how did he get money from your account?” “He’s my husband,” Sophie said earnestly. The officer sensed something wasn’t right. “Do you have any proof that he caused the crash?” “I do. The dashcam footage is the proof. And he has the transfer record on his phone.” The officer looked at me. I said nothing. He retrieved the dashcam from the car and then snapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists. “If there’s evidence, you’ll have to come with us.” “You too, ma’am,” he said, turning to Sophie. “We’ll need your statement.” Hearing she had to go to the station, Sophie balked. “Officer, you’ve got him. Why do I need to go? To be honest, I don’t really want you to arrest him. I just wanted him to apologize to me. Then we could have just let this go.” She tilted her chin up, as if she were the one in control. The officer almost laughed. “Ma’am, do you think calling 911 is a game? If he’s responsible for injuring someone, he has to face the consequences.” “Let’s go.” And just like that, they took me away. At the station, they reviewed the dashcam footage. It clearly showed me swerving into Mark’s lane and hitting his car, an action that resulted in his wife showing signs of a potential miscarriage. They put me in a holding cell. During the interrogation, the officer asked if I had anything to add. I shook my head and gave a bitter smile. “She’s right. I’ll admit to everything. Just get it over with.”

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The moment my eyesight returned, the first person I rushed to find was my husband, Preston Maxwell. I needed to share the earth-shattering news. But before I could even open the door to the private lounge, I stopped. I could hear Preston’s voice, loose and self-satisfied, mingling with the easy laughter of his friends. “Preston, the wife has been blind for two years. You had your boy, Grant Miller, pretend to be you so you could be with your ‘soulmate.’ Aren’t you worried one day Miller’s going to stop pretending and make the lie real?” “Worried?” Preston took a slow sip of something expensive, his laugh echoing—a sound so casual it was like a punch to the gut. “Miller’s control is legendary. I’ve seen women practically naked in front of him and he didn’t even blink. He’s not going to touch June.” “Besides, my wife is basically frigid. As long as Grant doesn’t actively pursue her, she’d never even consider anything like that.” A chorus of chuckles and jeers followed. “I don’t know who I feel sorrier for—the wife or Miller. Two gorgeous people sleeping in the same bed and just… talking. What a waste of a perfect setup, ha!” Their callous laughter rippled through the door. I glanced toward the center of the room, though I didn’t need to see to know he was there—Grant Miller, nursing a drink, aloof and distant, the very definition of cool, restrained class. A man that desirable, and I hadn’t once considered him. What a shame. 1 In hindsight, the clues had been everywhere. For the two years I was blind, “Preston” had been noticeably colder, less talkative, and carried an undeniable distance. My own insecurities, coupled with the darkness, had made me self-conscious and afraid to complain. A soft click of the lock snapped my attention back to the present. “June? I’m home.” The voice behind me was Grant Miller’s, deliberately pitched low, mimicking my husband’s tone. Their voices were naturally similar, and with the added effort, it was no wonder I hadn’t been able to tell the difference for two years. I looked up, letting my newly clear eyes linger on the handsome, angular face of the man before me. Grant, the legendary, untouchable “Ice Man” of the City’s elite, who had always seemed above the mess of the Maxwells’ world. Why had he agreed to this two-year farce? The motive didn’t matter anymore. If they wanted to play a game, I would play it to the end. I dropped my gaze, pretending I was still in the dark. I moved forward, a hesitant, sightless figure, and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. “Honey, you’re finally home.” I pressed myself against him, my hands instinctively running over the hard, carved lines of his abdomen. Two years of restraint had defined our relationship. Even when we shared a bed, he maintained a rigid distance. Now, I was crushing that boundary. My unexpected closeness startled him. His body stiffened beneath my touch, his voice catching slightly. “June… what is it? Is something wrong?” I squeezed out a few manufactured tears and tried to sound hurt. “Preston, since the accident, you haven’t touched me. Have you… have you stopped finding me desirable?” Grant paused, then lowered his voice, the comfort sounding forced. “No, don’t think that. You were injured in the crash, not just your eyes, but your body. I didn’t want to put any strain on you.” “My body is fine now. I can handle it.” I fumbled—or pretended to—with the buttons of his tailored dress shirt, my fingers brushing the solid expanse of his chest. “It’s been two years, darling. You must be suffering, too.” Grant’s throat worked, his voice a raw whisper. “…I’m fine.” I leaned in, blowing a gentle, warm breath on his exposed collarbone. “Maybe we should…” The sentence died as his phone rang. “I need to take this.” Grant seemed grateful for the interruption, pulling away to take the call on the balcony. I crept to the window and heard Preston’s lazy voice through the speaker. “Miller, I’m swapping days with you. My grandfather’s birthday is tomorrow.” Grant hesitated. “Fine.” “It’s been months since we switched places. Catch me up—what’s happened with June? Don’t want any slip-ups when I get back.” Then came the mocking voice of one of Preston’s friends again. “Preston, chasing your soulmate and keeping the wife happy—who’s more important to you?” Preston scoffed, his tone dripping with contempt. “June? She’s nothing compared to Geneva. June has been chasing me for years, a clingy shadow I could never shake. I had to fight to win Geneva over. If it weren’t for the Old Man, I would have never married June in the first place.” I stood frozen, the blood draining from my face. The self-mockery was a bitter taste in my mouth. He was right. I had been chasing him for so long. Ten years. From sixteen to twenty-six. And after finally getting what I thought I wanted—marriage—the man I was sharing my bed with was his best friend. For two years, my life had been a massive, pathetic lie. 2 That night, I initiated the physical closeness, holding Grant Miller in my arms until dawn. I felt the rigid tension in his body—he never relaxed, never reciprocated, but he didn’t pull away either. I woke the next morning to an empty space beside me, but Preston was standing by the bed, formally dressed. “Up, sleepyhead.” He smiled, a forced, unfamiliar expression. “Get ready. The Old Man’s birthday party is today.” I stretched languidly, giving a fake, husky purr. “Honey, your bones were so hard last night. You bruised my hip, I swear.” Preston’s smile shattered. The air instantly frosted over. The drive to the Maxwell estate was silent and tense, Preston’s face dark, his mood a brewing storm. But the moment we walked into the grand hall, he plastered on the perfect, adoring-husband mask and squeezed my hand. “Grandpa, happy birthday. Wishing you health and wealth!” The Elder Maxwell was thrilled to see me and kept me at his side, chatting warmly. The room was packed. I saw Grant Miller across the hall, the man I had slept with hours ago, and then my attention snagged on the other woman: Geneva Stone, the object of Preston’s obsession—his “soulmate.” Geneva’s eyes found mine, and she held a look of blatant challenge and scorn. I ignored her completely, pretending to be utterly unaware of her presence. Mid-party, I excused myself to the restroom. Emerging from the stall, I found Geneva waiting. She walked directly toward me, and just as we were about to pass, I heard the tell-tale slosh sound. A cascade of red wine splashed over my head, soaking my hair and the front of my dress. “Oops, I am so sorry,” Geneva cooed, the apology sickly sweet. “My hand must have slipped. Clumsy me.” I didn’t panic. I calmly picked up the wet floor warning sign by the door, lifted it, and deliberately swung it, hitting her squarely in the face. “Ah!” Geneva shrieked, clutching her stinging cheek. “June Reed! What the hell was that!” I feigned confusion and post-facto apology. “Oh, goodness, my apologies! I still can’t see a thing, you know. I was just trying to feel for a railing. Did I hit you?” Geneva was covered in wine, fury contorting her face. She raised her hand to slap me. I lifted the sign again and swung it back at her. “Stop it!” Two male voices barked the command simultaneously from behind. Preston and Grant both strode toward us, followed by several staff members. Geneva immediately crumpled into Preston’s arms, her tears turning her perfect makeup into a mess. “Preston, your wife hit me with that sign! You have to do something!” “June, apologize now,” Preston said, his voice dangerously low. I stumbled—or pretended to—into Grant’s embrace. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I can’t see, it was an accident. Please don’t be mad at me.” Preston stood there, his face an angry, mottled purple. Grant gently patted my back and lowered his voice for my ears only. “It’s fine, June. Don’t worry about it.” I glanced up. Preston’s face was dark enough to drip ink. A spark of malicious glee shot through me. I snuggled closer to Grant’s chest, sniffing dramatically. “My clothes are completely soaked, darling. I’m freezing. Can you take me home and run a bath for me? And maybe give me a massage? My hip is killing me.” Grant’s hand, still on my back, tightened. His voice was a little rougher. “I… I think I can manage that.” “Mother Chen!” Preston’s eyes flashed with a potent mix of displeasure and possessive rage. He cut us off with a clipped tone. “Take Mrs. Maxwell to be bathed and changed!” 3 After I had changed into a dry dress, I accidentally overheard Preston and Grant talking in the hallway. Preston’s face was stormy. “Grant, you’ve never been interested in women. Why are you reacting to June?” Grant lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before replying. “I’m a man, Preston, not a saint. When a beautiful woman is pressed against you, constantly touching you, you react.” Preston looked physically ill, unable to process the idea. “But June is cold! She would never… Grant, you have to promise me, no matter what, you absolutely cannot touch June! She’s still my wife, no matter how much we ‘play’ with the setup.” “You still remember she’s your wife?” Grant exhaled a plume of smoke, a mocking edge to his lips. “You’ve spent two years with your Holy Grail, Preston. Have you cared about your wife for a single day?” Preston fell silent. Grant chuckled, a cynical, dismissive sound. “If you love Geneva so much, just divorce June already.” “I can’t!” Preston’s denial was frantic. “June and I grew up together. I have feelings for her… but I spent years pursuing Geneva. She finally accepted me. I can’t let her go, either.” “God,” Grant muttered, stamping out the cigarette. “You’re a joke, Preston.” I didn’t need to hear any more. I turned and walked away. Preston, you want to keep your idealized woman and your convenient wife. You want everything. But life doesn’t work that way. … The party eventually ended, and Preston drove me home. Just as we arrived, I saw Grant waiting by the front door. Preston handed me over to Grant without a single backward glance, speeding off immediately. Once inside, I went straight to the master bath. A few minutes later, I called out, my voice laced with theatrical panic. “Honey! I slipped! I think I twisted my shoulder. Can you bring the ointment in and help me?” The door clicked open immediately. Grant walked in, holding a tube of muscle rub. I was wrapped loosely in a towel, my hair half-wet, water still clinging to my skin. Grant stared for two seconds, then awkwardly averted his gaze, busying himself with squeezing the cream onto his palm. I let out a small, dramatic gasp, pretending to lose my footing, and “plunged” directly into his arms. The towel fell to the floor, pooling at my feet. Two warm bodies met, skin to skin. Grant’s ears went crimson. He tried to push me away, his voice strangled. “June, wait. We can’t…” I cut him off, pressing my mouth fiercely against his. Grant froze for a moment. Then, with a sound that was half-growl, he abandoned all pretense, wrapping his arms around me and returning the kiss with desperate, hungry heat. In the brief moments we pulled apart for air, I reached down and fumbled for the belt buckle on his trousers, my voice low and husky. “We’ve been married so long, darling… maybe it’s time we finally had a baby.” Grant’s throat bobbed. His voice was thick and raw. “…Yes. Whatever you want, June.” He scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom. Just as he laid me down, his phone rang again. Grant looked at the screen and immediately hit “Ignore.” “Aren’t you going to answer that?” I whispered. He swallowed the rest of my words with another demanding kiss. From that afternoon until deep into the night, Grant was not the restrained, icy man I had known. He was a starved wolf who had finally tasted meat. He was relentless, insatiable. I fell asleep, utterly exhausted. Sometime in the pre-dawn hours, I vaguely heard Grant answer the phone, his voice a low murmur. “I know.” “No, I won’t touch her.” “You don’t trust me? Then don’t.” “Take an oath? I don’t believe in superstition.” He hung up. Grant leaned down, his voice barely audible as he spoke into my ear. “June, why did you only ever love him?” I want to tell you I don’t love him anymore. But I was too tired, too drained, and drifted back to sleep. 4 After that first night, Grant became a completely different man. He was a predator who had tasted blood and couldn’t get enough. For two months, he was consumed by me, throwing himself entirely into our newly passionate life. Preston, meanwhile, had taken his soulmate on a romantic European getaway and hadn’t been seen since. One day, feeling unwell, Grant took me to the doctor. Unexpectedly, we ran straight into Preston and Geneva, who had just returned from abroad, outside the clinic. “Oh, what a surprise,” Geneva chirped, dripping fake concern. “I’ve been having a bit of an upset stomach and morning sickness. Maybe too much fun abroad, I don’t know. Just here to check if I’m expecting! What brings you two here?” Grant looked at her, his expression ice-cold. “June isn’t feeling well. I brought her for a checkup.” Preston remained speechless, trying to hide his fear of the charade collapsing. But his eyes were glued to the angry red marks blooming on my neck—marks he knew he hadn’t made. His face was rigid with cold fury. I pretended not to notice either of them and walked past. As I brushed past Geneva, she let out a piercing shriek and dramatically stumbled backward, landing squarely in a decorative water fountain. Preston’s face went white. He jumped into the fountain immediately and scooped her out. Geneva was soaking wet, sobbing hysterically. “Preston! Your wife pushed me in! I don’t even know what I did to her, why is she always provoking me?” Preston’s composure evaporated. His voice was a whip-crack. “June Reed, apologize to Geneva!” I scoffed. It was always the same. He never questioned. He simply issued my sentence. “I didn’t do it. Why should I apologize?” Preston’s eyes were dark and menacing, his voice like chipped ice. “Who else would have done it? Geneva walked right past you! Did she jump in herself? Are you as black-hearted as you are blind?” Ten years of devotion. Ten years of giving him everything. It all came back to this: Geneva was always his priority. “I won’t apologize,” I stated flatly. “You don’t have a choice!” Preston kicked my knee hard. The sudden, searing pain made me gasp and drop straight to my knees. He grabbed my head, forcing me down, trying to make me kowtow to Geneva. “Let go of her!” Grant lunged forward, wrenching Preston’s hand away. His eyes burned with barely contained rage. “Don’t you touch her!” Preston ground his jaw, his face a terrifying shade of crimson. As they wrestled, a sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness hit me. All my strength vanished, and I started to fall backward. Two voices cried out simultaneously. “June!” Grant was instantly there, catching my limp body. But before he could properly hold me, Preston grabbed me from his arms. “June, what is it? Wake up!” “I’m sorry, June, I shouldn’t have been so cruel, just wake up…” Preston carried me frantically toward the emergency room. Outside the doors, Preston glared at Grant, his voice low and frigid. “Explain the marks on her neck, Miller.” Grant merely sneered. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about her health right now?” The door to the emergency room opened. The doctor pulled down her mask. “No cause for alarm. The patient fainted due to high emotional stress. She’s pregnant, and she’ll be fine after a rest.” “What did you say?” Preston looked as though he had been struck by lightning.

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Two months after I broke up with Lena, she walked into the convenience store where I worked and came straight for the condom aisle with her new boyfriend in tow. She stopped right in front of the display, turning to the guy next to her. Her voice was too loud, too sweet, and clearly meant for my ears. “There are so many kinds, Gideon,” she purred. “Which one is the most comfortable? You should recommend one.” Gideon, a preppy-looking guy whose face was a study in faint pink, just stared at the wall of neon-colored boxes and couldn’t come up with anything. Lena laughed—a light, sharp sound. “My bad, I almost forgot. You never used one with me, so you wouldn’t have the experience, would you?” I kept my head down, scrubbing a spot on the register counter that wasn’t actually dirty. I said nothing. She chuckled again, that knowing, predatory glint in her eyes as she finally looked my way. “How about you, Connor?” she challenged. “Any recommendations?” 1 I stared blankly for a second. The buzzing in my ears was loud, but her words were louder. I picked up a box of a popular brand. “This one has excellent lubrication. It’s particularly gentle for women, and it’s thin—barely any presence at all. Might be worth a try.” Lena’s smile tightened, just a fraction. “You sound very well-versed.” I gave a noncommittal shrug. “It’s fine.” She held the package between her fingers, her tone pointed. “I guess you use this one a lot with your girlfriend, then?” Gideon snorted a laugh next to her. “Look at his uniform, Lena,” he scoffed. “It probably costs less than thirty bucks for his whole outfit.” “That brand of condoms is the most expensive one we carry. His broke girlfriend and he probably can’t afford them. I bet they’re using some cheap, flimsy trash that breaks easily.” Lena’s gaze was fixed on my face, clearly hoping to catch a flicker of shame or distress. I didn’t give her the satisfaction. I just maintained a professional, easy smile. “Ma’am, rest assured, I’ve personally checked the quality of every product in this store,” I said, my voice even. “They are all top-tier. You can purchase with confidence.” Lena’s hand froze mid-air, and the color drained visibly from her face. She let out a dismissive scoff. “Fine. We’ll take the one you recommend. If it’s not any good, I’ll be back to find you.” She bought a single box and walked out, her arm tucked possessively through Gideon’s. After that day, I guess the brand I’d recommended really was that good. For a straight week, she brought Gideon to my register every single day to buy the same kind—the ultra-thin Aura brand. Even Mr. Henderson, the store manager, couldn’t help but make a joke. “I’ve never seen anything like it. A box a day, and those are the five-packs. That customer must have a serious appetite.” “These rich kids sure know how to have a good time. Stamina of an Olympic athlete.” “Oh, by the way, did you see the car she drives? A Rolls-Royce Ghost. There are only a few limited-edition models in the country. That thing is easily north of a million dollars.” “No wonder this area is the infamous Gold Coast of Chicago. So many wealthy people hiding in plain sight.” “Her boyfriend is a lucky guy. Head-to-toe designer clothes. A single accessory on him is probably worth a year of a regular person’s salary. He’s nowhere near as good-looking as you, Connor, but he’s got the golden ticket.” “But you know, that boyfriend of hers looks familiar.” “I think I saw him in your college graduation photo…” I paused, staying silent. Mr. Henderson nudged my arm curiously. “Connor Reid, is he really your college roommate?” “How did they end up together? Come on, tell me the gossip. You’re practically family here.” I didn’t take the bait. I just lowered my head and murmured: “There’s no gossip, Mr. Henderson.” “Can I request a couple of days off for a medical check-up? My stomach has been acting up lately.” Mr. Henderson looked concerned. “Of course, go ahead. Is your girlfriend going with you this time?” I shook my head. “No, I’m going alone.” He sighed. “It’s always just you, isn’t it? Your girlfriend doesn’t seem to care much about your health.” I pursed my lips and remained silent. 2 The whole situation was, to use a cliché, absolutely ridiculous. The boyfriend on Lena’s arm was indeed my college roommate, Calvin Pierce. Back in college, Calvin used my photos to catfish Lena online without my knowledge. Everyone in the dorm knew he was dating a wealthy woman. He never stopped boasting about it. He’d complain to me, “My girlfriend wired me money again. It’s so annoying; I haven’t even spent the last transfer.” “She keeps doing this. People might think I’m some kind of gold digger.” When I ignored him, he’d dramatically cover his mouth and lean closer. “Oh, I forgot you’re applying for financial aid. My girlfriend’s rich and she spoils me. You’re not jealous, are you?” After they started dating online, he replaced all his clothes with designer labels. A casual dinner for him was now an easy three-figure bill. His online girlfriend seemed to have severe insomnia and was incredibly clingy. Calvin would whisper into his phone every night, staying up with her until the early hours. I was a light sleeper, and the sedatives I took barely got me to sleep, only for me to be woken up by his sudden, loud bursts of laughter. Multiple times, I almost told him to be quiet. But I was broke, always up before dawn for my off-campus job, so I felt like I was imposing too, and I couldn’t say much to him. My parents divorced, both remarried, and they stopped supporting me years ago. I paid my own tuition for college. I was chronically sleep-deprived at night. I had to get up early for work in the morning. Add to that the heavy course load. Sometimes, I was so exhausted I genuinely felt suicidal. Even when I was being as quiet as possible. While the other roommates were still deep asleep. Calvin suddenly threw his blanket back and swore at me: “Why do you have to be so extra, waking up before dawn to work? Just to show off how broke you are?” “If you’re that poor, why don’t you just drop out and find a sugar mama to take care of you? Why be such a martyr?” I was late for work and didn’t have time to argue. I worked at a high-end coffee shop downtown. A stunning woman ordered the most expensive coffee, resting her chin on her hand, watching me intently. She wore a sleek, black trench coat. Her eyes were slightly upturned at the corners, her pupils a beautiful amber, and her expression was distant yet casual. She was so eye-catching, more beautiful than any celebrity. The moment she entered, she became the focal point of the entire café. I saw a few people covertly taking pictures of her. I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances myself. When I brought her coffee to the table. She handed me a generous tip, smiling, her voice slow and lazy. “Working so hard, sweetheart?” “Why are you working a shift this early? I wire you so much money, is it not enough? Do you need a little extra?” I was taken aback. “You’ve never sent me money.” She froze, pulled out her phone, and opened her photo gallery to show me. It was filled with countless selfies of me. “Sweetheart, you have a mole on your earlobe. These are your photos, aren’t they?” “Why are you flirting with me online and then playing dumb in person? You call me ‘wife’ every single night.” Her smile deepened. “Is this your first time seeing me in person? Are you shy?” I was stunned. “The photos are definitely mine, but I honestly don’t know who you are.” Now she looked confused, too. Finally, we pieced together that Calvin had been catfishing her with my photos. The woman, mortified at being deceived, introduced herself. She extended her hand to me. “Hi, I’m Lena Vanderbilt. Would you be willing to try dating me?” I hesitated. She leaned in, a tempting whisper. “With me, things would be much easier for you.” In that moment, I admit, I was sold. Because I was simply too damn tired. 3 Once we were together, Lena proved to be a very committed partner. She retrieved all the money Calvin had scammed from her and transferred it to my account. Before I graduated, she showered me with gifts and surprises. After graduation, she gave me an executive position in her company, personally mentoring me on projects. It gave me a resume that many seasoned professionals would envy. During the day, we were boss and subordinate. At night, we were like any regular couple—living together, hugging, kissing. She had incredible stamina; she always left me breathless. In those moments, she loved to nibble the mole on my earlobe, loved to kiss my eyes, and loved to bury her face in my chest, catching her breath when it was all over. Because safe sex wasn’t always perfect, and Lena craved the rush, sometimes we skipped the protection. In the heat of the moment, she would tell me: “Marry me, sweetheart. I only want to marry you.” “Our baby will definitely be as sweet and well-behaved as you.” I held her close, believing every word. I thought we could stay like this forever. Until that day. The day I found out she had a fiancé. I went to the hospital for a routine check-up and, unexpectedly, the results flagged some issues that required further testing. Panicked and urgent, I didn’t waste a second. I grabbed the papers and rushed to Lena’s office. My hand was just reaching for the doorknob. When I heard voices from inside. “So, you haven’t told Connor you have a fiancé?” My world went quiet. I pressed my ear lightly against the door. Then, I heard Lena’s calm, level voice. “I don’t even like the fiancé. Besides, it’s just a business arrangement—a calculated alliance set up by our families.” Her friend asked, “Did you ever consider fighting it?” Lena laughed, a careless, offhand sound. “Why would I? Is it even necessary?” “Besides, isn’t a marriage among equals just the natural order of things? You didn’t seriously think I would end up with a poor kid like Connor, did you? It’s just a bit of fun.” “And I’m not ready to settle down yet.” “My fiancé and I have an agreement: we can see other people before the wedding, as long as no one crosses a major line. Anything goes.” “Connor is obedient. He’s very sweet and pulls at my heartstrings. I don’t mind keeping the act going with him for a bit longer.” Her friend teased, “You used to swap boyfriends every week. This is the first time I’ve seen you this serious. I actually thought you’d changed.” “But I get it. Connor has that pure, innocent face. If he were mine, I’d want to keep him close and spoil him, too.” “But you play the field so much. Aren’t you worried Connor will find out and be heartbroken?” Lena smiled. “Why should I be? If he finds out, I’ll just give him some money and break up with him.” “Poor people like him are easy to manage. They’re shortsighted. A decent severance package, and they won’t make a fuss.” In that moment, a massive ringing started in my head. I nearly lost my footing. I looked down at the check-up paper in my hand. It felt like I’d been slapped hard across the face. My cheeks were burning. The hand I’d placed on the doorknob slowly dropped. That night, I didn’t go home. I hid in a hotel room and cried for a long time. I realized I might have fallen irrevocably in love with her. Otherwise, why would I feel this crushing pain? I loved her, but I hated her just as much. I thought, Why? Why did she get to hold all the power in this relationship? Why could she pick me up and put me down so easily? Why was she allowed to play, and I was not? Instead of waiting for Lena to toss me aside, I decided to be the one to end it. I would dump her. So, I deliberately set up a scene to pretend I was cheating. When Lena found me at the hotel. I was in a bathrobe, kissing a woman I’d hired. Scattered on the floor were unbuttoned shirt studs and a ripped tie. The bedsheets were strategically messed up with marks I’d faked. Lena stood in the doorway, the air pressure around her dangerously low. She wore a terrifying, extremely dangerous smile. “Explain.” The woman I was kissing spoke up first. “Ms. Vanderbilt, we’re the real soulmates here. You should just let him go.” “I swear, I’ll treat him well.” Lena didn’t even lift an eyelid. The brief, cold glance she gave the woman was full of undisguised contempt and disgust. “Get lost. Trash like you doesn’t get a voice here.” The woman’s face instantly flushed crimson. She opened her mouth but couldn’t dare utter a single word in protest. I waited a moment, then spoke slowly. “It’s exactly what you see. I don’t love you anymore.” “I’ve already submitted my resignation to the company. I kept all the money you gave me in the bank, untouched.” “Lena, we’re breaking up.” That night, Lena stood on the balcony, drinking an entire bottle of scotch. As she left, she spoke one last, cold sentence: “As you wish.” Right after that, I blocked and deleted every single one of Lena’s contacts and accounts. 4 A week later. Lena came into the convenience store alone this time. I assumed she was here for condoms again, so I habitually reached for the brand she usually bought. She didn’t take them. She just looked at me. “Connor, can we talk?” At a nearby five-star restaurant. Lena ordered fresh quality seafood, the food I used to love. I looked at the menu and said, “I don’t eat seafood anymore.” Lena smiled faintly. “You used to be addicted to spice. Why the change? Is it to accommodate your new girlfriend?” I lowered my eyes, my tone flat. “My stomach hasn’t been well lately.” She conceded without judgment and ordered milder dishes instead. Once the food arrived. Lena asked me, “Do you regret breaking up with me?” “You never had to live this hard before you left. Does she treat you well?” I said nothing. She smiled. “Okay, I get it.” “After all, I was your first serious relationship. You were still in school when you got with me. Not much experience. It’s normal for you to be a little reckless and ungrateful.” “So, another woman says a few sweet things, and you’re gone.” “But life isn’t a fairy tale.” “You see what you look like now that you’ve left me.” “Six AM to ten PM shifts, a two-hour commute, crowded subway trains, standing all day, and all that tedious, grinding work.” “Your roommate, Calvin, is now my arm candy, and he’s living the good life. I give him a quarter-million dollar monthly allowance, and I gave you even more than that.” “That life should have been yours.” “This is your last chance, Connor. Do you want to get back together?” I stayed silent for a moment. Finally, I lifted my gaze. “Ms. Vanderbilt, I’m not like you. I take relationships seriously.” Lena sneered. “Oh, really? You like her that much?” Just then, I accidentally bit into a piece of fatty meat. The burst of oily richness immediately made me nauseous. I clamped a hand over my mouth, a wave of revulsion washing over me. Seeing my reaction, Lena leisurely poured me a glass of water. It was half a joke when she said, “Why such a strong reaction? Is your stomach problem flaring up again?” My grip on the water glass tightened instinctively. She leaned closer. “Now that I look closely, your color doesn’t seem quite right.” “Connor, is there something you’re hiding from me?”

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Four years into the apocalypse, and I had just led the survivors to beat back the largest zombie horde in recorded history. My reward? Not gratitude. But a frantic, brutal rush—a swarm of human bodies fighting over the chance to violate me. The only reason? My bodily fluids could neutralize the zombie virus. When my husband carried me back, I wanted to bite through my own tongue. But then I heard him speaking with my mother. “Jake, are we sure we did the right thing, broadcasting Aurora’s ability like that? She’s been… ravaged. Doesn’t that feel monstrous?” Jake Porter stared at me, his eyes overflowing with a cheap, churning imitation of love. “Mom, Summer is pregnant with my child. If Aurora found out, she’d kill them both first thing. I won’t let that happen!” he hissed. “She’s dependent on us now. She won’t mind one more child joining the family. Don’t worry, even if she’s been used by every filth-ridden wretch out there, I will never abandon her. I’ll always be the husband to both sisters.” The words rattled my mind and soul. The raw, chilling truth: humanity was a far greater horror than the horde outside. My fingers brushed the fresh, gnarly bite mark on my wrist, and a searing, white-hot hatred surged through me. If this is how mankind repays me, then so be it. I will flatten this entire survivor settlement, and I will build a New World on the rubble—a kingdom for the infected. Let these beasts kneel and beg for mercy! 1. “Jake,” my mother, Carol, suggested, her voice laced with pain. “Aurora’s hurting so badly. Maybe let Summer give her a small blood donation? Just enough to help the wounds close faster.” “No!” Jake shook his head violently. “Summer is pregnant and struggling enough. We can’t ask her to bleed herself for a few minor injuries.” Carol was about to argue, her heart aching for me, but Jake cut her off, looking at me with a sickening expression of pride. “Aurora is a strong, brave woman. She can handle a little pain. And I know she wouldn’t want to take her own sister’s blood for a scratch.” He leaned in and gently kissed the back of my hand. “She’s always been so competitive, so jealous of Summer. This is just a small lesson.” The sheer disgust made me want to slap him across the face. But after three days and three nights of unspeakable horror, with what felt like a hundred bodies having used mine, I couldn’t even summon the strength to pull my hand away from his repulsive kiss. We were identical twins, Summer and I, cut from the same cloth, even sharing the same face. So why this chasm between us? A crushing, suffocating feeling washed over me. The heartache was so immense I thought I might simply die. I didn’t have Jake’s powerful lightning ability, but I was always the one on the front lines, fighting until I bled dry, killing every zombie I could find. I did it only to be worthy of him, to be the shield that protected our family. And while I risked my life in the blood and grime of the night, my own sister, Summer, was busy making herself comfortable. In every stolen moment, in every cozy night I missed, they were building a life together. They were having a child. My mother’s favoritism I could endure. But the man I had loved for ten years—my husband—was now my destroyer. All my sacrifice, all my power, meant nothing compared to the sweet, useless presence of Summer Reed. My tears broke the dam. My body, used and broken, gave way, and I lost control, wetting the bed beneath me. Carol saw my body spasm and rushed over, pulling me into a hug, crying herself. “Don’t be afraid, my daughter! Mama is here. I’m here for you.” Jake’s eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed his weapon and gritted his teeth. “Aurora, don’t you worry. I’m going to find every one of those bastards and slaughter them. I’ll atone for this for you!” But he just stood there, his feet rooted to the spot. I managed a bitter, hollow laugh. I had seen enough of their magnificent performance. “Forget it,” I whispered, my voice barely a rasp. Jake immediately rushed over, pressing his face close to mine and kissing my cheek with a practiced tenderness. “My love, you’re finally seeing reason. What happened… just treat it as a nightmare. It’s over now. Purity means nothing to me, Aurora. I love you. The person.” He wiped a tear from my eye. “Why are you crying? Don’t worry, your husband will always be by your side.” Only then did Carol notice the soaking wet sheets beneath me. She gasped. “Aurora, you wet the bed! Quick, we need to change you. Lying here like this is awful.” The sheer, burning humiliation made me want to smash my head into the wall and end it all. But I couldn’t. Not yet. I hadn’t had my vengeance. I closed my eyes in despair, submitting as Jake gently used a towel to wipe my body clean. Carol continued to sob softly. Jake’s eyes were full of a theatrical shame, and he couldn’t bear to look at the worst of my wounds. It was as if the pain in my body was a wound in his soul. Truly moving. Yet they were the ones who pushed me into the abyss. I watched their flawless act, realizing that the physical agony was less than one-thousandth of the pain in my heart. With a monumental effort, I reached down and touched my flat stomach. When I spoke, my voice was thick with an uncontrollable sob. “My baby. Mama couldn’t protect you.” 2. Jake stared at me in shock. “What? You were pregnant?” I gave a bitter nod. “A month along.” The irony was a cruel joke. The child Jake had longed for, finally conceived, was now lost—at his own hands. A flicker of remorse crossed his face, but it vanished instantly. He squeezed my hand and swore, “My love, I’m devastated about the baby, too. But you are my first priority. Get better, and we will have another one.” “Will we?” My smile was brittle, and I didn’t care what else he was saying. I closed my eyes, a single tear tracing a quick path down my temple. There would be no ‘later.’ My uterus had been destroyed by those beasts. In the apocalypse, supplies were precious. My mother brought me a rare, nutrient-rich broth to help me recover. If I hadn’t overheard their vile scheme, I would have broken down in grateful tears, drowning in the fake warmth of a happy family. It was all a lie. The last, fragile thread of my sanity snapped. I passed out on the bed. I was only woken later by the low murmur of Carol and Jake’s conversation. “Aurora is broken now. Why advertise that she’s still alive? I’m afraid those men will come back…” Jake’s eyes were suspiciously moist. “I’ve just established myself as the Settlement Leader, Mom, but there are still so many who question my authority. As long as this apocalypse rages, people will need Aurora. No one will dare challenge me as long as I hold your leash.” He paused, his voice softening with his disgusting self-justification. “Aurora loves me enough. She’ll understand.” I didn’t open my eyes until they had left. A line of bloody tears traced a path from the corner of my eye. My family was climbing to the top, standing on my ravaged body. My fellow survivors, desperate to live, had treated me like livestock, a thing to be abused. Was there no justice? Why did I have to be the one with this impossible, one-in-a-million healing ability? Why was I doomed to be sacrificed for the sake of everyone else? The whites of my eyes began to recede, the pupils quickly bleeding out into a dark, swirling ink. The distinctive eyes of the infected now held a terrifying, boundless hatred. I was going to get my justice. In the distance, the sickening shriek of a zombie could be heard. The infected who had fed on my flesh and blood were stirring. Humanity’s final 48 hours began. In 48 hours, the massive horde outside the city walls would surge in and level the settlement. I heard approaching footsteps and instantly flipped my eyes back to normal. A woman carrying a first-aid kit entered the room. My eyes welled up. “Bev. Aunt Bev, are you here to help me?” “Pfft! Don’t call me Auntie, you slut. Don’t you dare claim kinship with me.” Beverly ‘Bev’ Jenkins spat on the floor near my bed. “This is all your fault, you selfish bitch! You could have saved my husband, old man Leo, why didn’t you? You just stood there and watched him turn!” Her eyes were twin daggers. “This is what you deserve! You’re getting what’s coming to you! If Jake hadn’t forced me to come here and dress your wounds, I wouldn’t touch you. Who knows what kind of dirty diseases you picked up. You’re disgusting.” She glowered at me. “I suggest you hurry up and go to hell to beg for forgiveness from my Leo. Grovel to all the people you let die.” She murdered me a thousand times with her eyes. She forgot the truth: I built this entire settlement with my sweat and blood. Without me, it would have been a ruin long ago. They owed me their lives. I was a woman. My dignity would not allow me to save a life through such a dirty, dehumanizing method. Did I not deserve basic human rights? I could save them a thousand times, but if I refused just once, I deserved to die? I was choked with sobs. Humanity was rotten to the core. Jake finally arrived, offering a half-hearted, performative scolding to Bev, and that was that. He wiped the tears from my face and spoke in a gentle, coaxing voice. “It’s my fault. I should have come and dressed your wounds myself.” He sighed. “Bev always adored you, I never thought she’d say such things. She’s just grieving too much. You have to forgive her.” I was so angry I wanted to tear out his throat. A single, flimsy excuse, and he expected me to just forgive their sins? I spat out the tiny pieces of tooth I had crushed while biting down on my jaw. He leaned in, still acting the part of the devoted husband, gently cleaning my wounds. So convincing. A dull, heavy ache settled in my heart. “How… how did they know I could cure the virus, Jake? I never told anyone but you…” 3. Jake flinched, his hand unconsciously squeezing too hard. The movement sent a sharp jolt of agony through my already weak body. “Aurora, what you went through was agonizing, and it’s torturing me, too. But how can you accuse me? What kind of man would deliberately subject his wife to that?” He held my hands tightly. “Tell me who is spreading these lies. I’ll rip the tongue out of anyone who tries to turn you against me!” “Who are you planning to rip the tongue out of, Jake?” Summer’s sweet, bright voice chimed in from the doorway. She was peeking in, her face the very picture of pure innocence. Her unexpected arrival sent me into a panic. I scrambled to pull the blanket higher, trying to hide my naked, ravaged body. To be this exposed, this low, in front of the one person I loathed most made the shame unbearable. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Summer’s eyes welled up instantly. “Sister, why are you covering yourself? I’ve already seen everything.” She pranced closer, holding out a glass jar like a priceless gift. “Look what I brought you! Just one sip of my blood, and you’ll heal immediately.” Jake’s expression darkened. “Don’t be ridiculous! Summer, you’re pregnant, you can’t just hurt yourself like that.” Summer immediately pouted and burst into tears. “I’m only worried about my sister!” Jake immediately caved, sighing and wiping her tears away. “Oh, you silly girl. Aurora’s wounds are small. She doesn’t need your blood. She’ll be fine in a day or two.” He lowered his head and gently sucked the tiny pinprick wound on her finger, his brow furrowed with a depth of concern that felt entirely real. It was a small scratch. It would have healed on its own in minutes. Was Jake truly so blind he didn’t see her pathetic trick? Or was he simply tired of feigning devotion to my ‘used-up’ self? Because of that innocent, tear-stained face, I had taken the blame for every transgression since we were children. I had been grounded countless times because of her fake tears. My own twin, Summer Reed, was a master manipulator, a cruel, calculating liar. But no one ever believed me. “Sister, please drink it. It will help,” she urged. The intense enthusiasm in her eyes set off every warning bell in my head. Before I could object, she roughly forced the jar to my lips and poured the blood down my throat. The metallic stench hit me like a physical blow, and I retched violently. I tried to roll onto my side to throw up, but I was too weak and tumbled off the bed. “Jake, what’s wrong with her? Is it because I didn’t give her enough blood? Did I fail her?” Summer fretted, her beautiful brow creased with self-reproach. Jake gently smoothed the wrinkles from her forehead. “No, honey. Your blood has stabilized her. She just needs rest. Let’s go, we’ll leave her alone.” It was patently obvious who he truly cherished. I watched them leave with a strange, chilling sense of calm. But Summer abruptly reappeared. She saw me lying in the pile of filth and urine, and a malicious smile spread across her face. “Why so clumsy, Sister? Look at the mess. So gross.” She stepped closer. “Jake is really a fool, making a big deal out of a little wound. Anyone would think I was his wife.” She lowered her voice, her eyes burning with pure venom. “Do you think the baby that died in your belly—do you think it hates you? Hates the fact that its own mother’s body was violated by so many men… that it was killed by the filth they left behind?” My pupils shrank. My trembling finger pointed at her, my throat too dry to utter a single curse. The more agony she caused me, the happier she became. Summer burst into a triumphant, mocking laugh, but she wasn’t finished. “It was worth the effort of scooping up the blood that had been draining from your wounds that day. And you drank it. Was it tasty? Maybe some of your baby’s remains were in there.” She looked down at me, her chin tilted in victory. “Aurora Reed, we might be twins, but you will never win against me! Did you really believe he would stay with you, the damaged goods, for a lifetime? Keep dreaming, Sister! A whore is a whore. You’ll never be clean.” I realized that beyond the sharpest pain was only numb silence. I stared up at her, my gaze cold and still. Summer Reed. Wait until the news that your blood can instantly heal external wounds gets out. Let’s see if you can still laugh then. The mockery on my face infuriated her. She pulled a dagger from her waistband and walked toward me. “Bitch! I’m going to cut your eyes out!” I didn’t flinch. I watched her, utterly unafraid, seeing only a pathetic clown. But then, in a flash, she turned the blade, grabbed my hand, and plunged it into her own side. The next second, the door flew open, and Jake rushed in, his eyes wide with horror. “No!” 4. Summer’s body went limp, and she crumpled backward. Jake’s eyes were bloodshot. He lunged forward and cradled her in his arms. “What happened?” he demanded. Summer whimpered, “I… I just wanted to help clean my sister’s wounds… but she suddenly grabbed the knife and stabbed me. She said she wanted to blind me.” She shook her head tragically. “It’s my fault. I must have hurt her accidentally. Jake, please, quickly explain to Aurora. Tell her she’s mistaken about us. Don’t let her be angry over me. I’m not worth it.” My mother, Carol, heard the noise and rushed in. She didn’t hesitate. She hauled off and slapped me hard across the face. “You have such a tiny, vicious heart! What has Summer ever done to you? She was trying to help you, and you tried to stab her?!” Her eyes were blazing. “You’ve always hated it when Summer had something better than you. And now you’re blaming her for your own suffering! From this day forward, I have no daughter named Aurora!” She slapped me again with the back of her hand and stormed out, her face contorted with rage. Jake was focused on Summer’s midsection, protecting her belly. He glared at me, the hatred in his eyes practically lethal. “Let me be perfectly clear. Summer is carrying my child. If you so much as lay one finger on her again, we’re done. We’re getting a divorce! Who the hell would want a piece of trash like you after what you’ve been through?” My laugh was a wretched, broken sound. “What a magnificent act of charity, Jake. Should I spend the rest of my life groveling at your feet for not abandoning me yet?” He sneered. “If it weren’t for the fact that we’ve been married for ten years, I’d be sick just looking at you. You’re disgusting. You don’t even compare to the hair on Summer’s head.” Summer, leaning against Jake, lifted her chin in a triumphant, cat-like gaze. Jake, worried about her wound, scooped her up and rushed out. I lay there, counting the minutes until the three-hour mark. Jake came back unexpectedly. He was crying, falling to his knees beside my bed. “I’m sorry, Aurora. I was under so much pressure, I just couldn’t resist the temptation with Summer. I swear I know what I did was wrong. Please, forgive me.” I was busy listening to the frantic, rising screeches of the infected outside the window. I ignored him. Soon, I would get to watch them all be torn apart. Three. Two. One. The ear-splitting siren blared across the settlement. Panic broke out—a cacophony of human screams mingling with the savage zombie howls. I smiled, a dark, satisfied grin spreading across my face. Suddenly, I was hauled up and dragged to the top of the towering defense wall. Below, the massive zombie army was an overwhelming, terrifying sight. Jake tore my clothes off. He shrieked at the panicked survivors. “Aurora Reed is here! Everyone who’s been bitten—come now!” My body was seized with uncontrollable tremors. I flailed my arms, but I couldn’t stop the wolfish, desperate eyes from all sides. “Me first! I was bitten first, I get to go first!” “I was earlier! Me!” I was pinned down, my limbs restrained. I watched them climb onto me, one after the other. Around the wall, rows of people knelt, begging me to save them. The irony was breathtaking. Humanity was drinking my blood and feeding on my flesh, yet they knelt and screamed my name like I was their savior. The zombies began to scale the wall, and the situation devolved into chaos. Then, a pair of hands shoved me hard. “Die—!” My body plummeted. I closed my eyes, a sense of bitter dissatisfaction flooding me. I couldn’t die until I saw their final fate. Then, a pair of arms caught me.

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On our wedding anniversary, the gift Rhodes sent me was a pregnant test result from a woman I’d never met. “My little bird is nesting, and she’s been clingy lately. I’m leaving early tonight.” I gripped the edge of the dining table, my fingertips going numb. “You cheated? And got someone pregnant?” He shook his head, correcting me with chilling composure. “You’ve got the timeline backwards. I cheated so that I could have a child.” “I respect your body, Aubrey, but the family legacy needs an heir.” “Don’t worry, this will be our child. I won’t let anyone bring drama to your door.” I crumpled the test result in my hand. “And what if I don’t want this child?” He chuckled, as if he’d anticipated the question. “Then I’ll simply have to find the child a new mother. Don’t be foolish, Aubrey.” Tears streamed down my face, splashing onto the meticulously prepared anniversary dinner. I looked at the feast and felt like the punchline of a very cruel joke. 1 Rhodes walked over and embraced me, his head close to my ear. His voice was a whisper, the kind a lover uses for sweet nothings. “You’ve always wanted to know why I was two hours late to our wedding, right?” My body went instantly rigid, and I started shaking uncontrollably. That day, I’d stood in the chapel in my gown for two long hours. Everyone said Rhodes had bolted. But I, foolishly, believed he would come. I made over twenty calls. He only texted back two words: Wait for me. Two hours later, after the guests had trickled away, he finally rushed in. The ceremony was just the two of us. I cried then, too, but those were tears of pure joy, believing I was marrying the love of my life. “The night before,” he continued, his breath a foul caress against my skin, “my little bird was crying, insisting on giving me her first time. She was so delicate, in so much pain, I spent all night comforting her. I simply lost track of time.” “Now you know why I didn’t touch you on our wedding night, don’t you? She’d completely drained me. I was exhausted.” A searing pain pierced my heart, leaving me breathless. He frowned, a familiar flicker of impatience in his eyes, yet his tone was falsely affectionate as he scolded me. “Stop crying, Aubrey. You know your tears break my heart. You’ve been my wife for two years. Can’t you be happy for me? I slept with her for two years to get this baby. It’s all to realize your dream of being a mother. Shouldn’t you understand?” “If you truly can’t accept it, we can divorce. But the position of Mrs. Rhodes will always be waiting for you, until you’re ready to come back.” My mind was a blank slate. Today should have been a celebration—seven years since we met, two since we married. I should have been blissfully happy. Instead, I could only stare at the man I loved most and choke out: “Why? Why would you do this to me? Why only tell me now?” Rhodes’s eyes were filled with a thick, suffocating love. “Because I love you, Aubrey.” “Every day I hid it, every morning I woke up and you weren’t the one next to me, I felt a stab of guilt. I wanted to cut myself. But we need a child. That’s what makes a complete family. Just bear with me, okay?” His lips moved closer, as if he intended to kiss me. I shoved him away with all my strength and screamed. “Get out! Don’t touch me! You disgust me!” Rhodes raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and smiled a defeated, almost charming smile. “Aubrey, I won’t touch you. Don’t be angry.” “Think about it some more. I have to go now. I’m taking her for a prenatal check-up tomorrow.” He turned and left, clean and decisive. The moment the door shut, I flew into a rage, flipping the entire table. Amidst the chaos of the ruined room, I collapsed and wept uncontrollably. That night, I smashed everything I could reach. The only thing I couldn’t bring myself to touch was the wedding photo on the wall. I held it, crying until I passed out. In my dream, time rewound. I was back at the beginning. Rhodes gripped my hand, standing firm against his father. “No one is going to separate me and Aubrey Victor!” His father erupted in fury, ordering his men to hold Rhodes down and give him thirty lashes. I knelt, begging him to break up with me. Rhodes, barely conscious, his face covered in blood, glared at me and threatened, “Aubrey, if you dare say ‘break up’ one more time, I will die right here in front of you.” He was disowned. The pampered, silver-spoon heir moved with me into a sunless basement. He was covered in heat rash in the summer, and in winter, his fingers were frostbitten. To earn money, he went to illegal fighting rings. He broke two ribs but refused a doctor. Instead, he took the money and bought us a small, one-bedroom apartment with windows. He held me, his voice rough and broken. “Don’t be ashamed, Aubrey. I promise I’ll get you a bigger, better house one day.” That love felt so real, I wanted to drown in the dream and never wake up. But my phone kept ringing. It was Rhodes’s secretary. Her voice was cautious and deferential. “Mrs. Victor, please take care of yourself. We’re handling the trending topic.” 2 I numbly opened Twitter. The top trending story was a photo of Rhodes and a visibly pregnant young woman at the hospital, taken by a passerby. Despite heavy pixelation, the woman’s swollen stomach and Rhodes’s look of raw desire were unmistakably clear. Shaking, I called him. It took a long time for him to answer, and his voice was thick with exhaustion. “Aubrey, you saw it? I didn’t think that little succubus would dare lure me in while pregnant. I just lost control for a minute.” “Why don’t you post on Twitter that it’s AI? A statement from Mrs. Rhodes will crush this faster than my PR team can pay to suppress it.” On the drive to see Rhodes, I was in a daze. Years ago, he was on every front page when he was kicked out of his family. The media camped out for a week, betting on how long the high-and-mighty heir would keep the ‘Cinderella’ wife. Rhodes ignored them all. He waited until his studio was finally taking off. Then, he called a press conference, knelt down in front of all the reporters, and proposed. “I, Rhodes Victor, will love Aubrey Victor for the rest of my life!” He laid his love bare for the world to see, leaving himself no retreat. So, when the cheating scandal broke, everyone went wild. When I arrived, his secretary greeted me, her eyes filled with pity and a desire to speak. My hands and feet were ice cold. I pushed the door open, stiffly. A cloyingly sweet, yet distinctly musky odor hit me. The woman—Sylvia, I’d later learn—was draped on the sofa, her pregnant belly fully exposed. Rhodes saw me and kissed her stomach gently. His voice was tender. “My wife is here to pick me up.” The woman stroked her belly and smiled a challenging, knowing smile at me. “Mrs. Victor, want to feel?” She actually stood up, turning her belly toward me as she approached. An intense, choking feeling strangled my throat. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. Rhodes’s face contorted. He scrambled to my side. “Aubrey! What is it? You look terrible!” I struggled to get out of his embrace. Rhodes seemed to realize what was happening and waved at the woman. “Can’t you see my wife isn’t well? Get away from her!” The woman instantly clutched her stomach, her eyes welling up. Rhodes clicked his tongue in annoyance but forced himself to get up and pinch her cheek. “Be good. Once my wife calms down, I’ll be back with you and the baby, okay?” Only then did she smile through her tears, shooting me a smug glance before leaving. Rhodes watched her go, then turned, anxiously pulling me up. “Aubrey, are you better? Should I take you to the hospital?” “I know you can’t accept another woman’s child, so if you insist on a divorce, I understand, and I’ll respect it.” My dizzying mind suddenly went crystal clear. I looked up and met his gaze. “Rhodes, I will never divorce you.” I was perfectly lucid. I was disgusted by his betrayal and hated that woman’s provocation. But more than anything, I was unwilling to let go. I loved Rhodes. Even if being together meant tearing each other apart, I would not release him. I ran to the rooftop, sobbing, forcing him to choose between me and the baby. When I swung one leg over the railing, he screamed my name. He chose me. I knew it. I knew I was still the one he loved the most. I could swallow all the humiliation, forgive his momentary lapse. As long as he finally chose to return to me. Rhodes made the woman, Holly, abort the child. I thought we could finally start over. But he was quick to teach me a lesson. 3 The day after my birthday, photos of Rhodes and his secretary, Tasha, having sex in a car in the suburbs were plastered all over the internet. Another betrayal. My heart seized, and I fainted. When I woke up, I rushed to his company, screaming in front of the media, calling him a heartless, faithless monster. But Rhodes was no longer the broke young man kicked out of his family. He was CEO, a man who controlled the city. No media dared print my accusations. Instead, he dismissed it with one light sentence: “She’s been emotionally unstable lately.” Just like that, I became the city’s jealous, hysterical shrew. Rhodes gently stroked my hair. “You used to praise Tasha for being so discreet. I thought you wouldn’t mind her carrying the child. But seeing you like this, I guess not?” “Aubrey, my patience has limits. We must have a child. Since you insist on disobeying me, don’t blame me for using my own methods to teach you obedience.” Determined to establish dominance, he fired Tasha and immediately found a starlet named Summer. She vowed to abandon her career to give him a son. Moved by her declaration, Rhodes sold the one-bedroom apartment. The one he’d broken two ribs to buy. The one that housed our purest love and memories. I knelt, begging him, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. But the apartment was gone, replaced by a bracelet on the starlet’s wrist. Summer lasted five months without getting pregnant. He replaced her with an influencer named Zara. My body and mind collapsed. I was seeing a therapist daily. Two months later, Zara showed up at my house, clutching her stomach. I lost control and slapped her. That single slap caused her to miscarry. Rhodes’s anger finally burned me. He sent me to a private behavioral modification center. Seven days of a dark room, piercing lectures, and inhumane correction. I returned home vacant and simpleminded. The bedroom door was ajar. He and a new woman were in our bed, trying to conceive. His face was slick with sweat. He looked up at me and smiled. “Aubrey, this is your punishment for being disobedient.” “Be a good girl. Once she’s pregnant, I promise we’ll go back to normal.” This time, I didn’t cry or yell. I waited until they were done. Then, quietly, I climbed onto the rooftop and jumped. I woke up in the hospital, covered in plaster casts. Rhodes was beside my bed, unshaven, a few strands of gray at his temples. He gripped my hand, tears raining down. “Aubrey, I’m so sorry, I’m a bastard! If anything had happened to you, I would have slit my wrists and gone with you!” For seven years, the words Rhodes said most often were not I love you. They were I’m fine, I have Aubrey. When he was kicked out, he said, I’m fine, having Aubrey is enough. When his ribs were broken, he said, I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt when I have Aubrey. When his former friends threw money in his face to humiliate him, he still said, I’m fine, I still have Aubrey. The hardest year, we shared a single cold bun a day. I couldn’t bear to drag him down anymore. I swallowed the splitting pain and suggested we break up. He knelt, begging me. “Aubrey, I can’t live for one more second without you.” Now, crying, I asked him: “Rhodes, do you really have to have a child?” He shook his head frantically, clutching me tightly. “No, I don’t. I only want you. Only Aubrey.” During my recovery, his care was meticulous. We were back to the beginning. He would kiss me and whisper in my ear, over and over, “I love you, Aubrey. I only want you.” That period was beautiful, like a fragile dream. But dreams always end. 4 His new mistress was a college student named Sylvia, dressed in cheap clothes, barely daring to look at me. Yet, she looked oddly familiar. Rhodes shielded her behind him, equally afraid to meet my eyes. I heard my own voice, dry and hollow. “Didn’t you say you didn’t want a child anymore?” He was silent for a long time before finally saying: “She’s different.” In that moment, I heard the precise sound of my heart shattering. Sylvia was different. For her, Rhodes went to cooking classes and prepared meals himself. He bought her extravagant jewelry and lit up the sky with expensive displays. Her smile was worth any price. On Sylvia’s birthday, the night sky was filled with a fleet of drones, outlining the silhouette of them embracing, spelling out the words: “Happy Birthday, Little Dream.” The light was so sharp it physically hurt my eyes. A memory flashed into my mind. Years ago, nestled in our tiny apartment, we saw a drone show on TV. I’d watched with wide-eyed envy. He held me then and promised, “When we have money, I’ll book all the drones in the city for your birthday. They’ll fly in the shape of us and spell out ‘Happy Birthday.’” Later, we did have money. But not one drone ever appeared on my birthday. I thought he’d forgotten the promise. He hadn’t. He had just given the fulfillment of that grand, romantic gesture to another woman. Three months into their relationship, Rhodes brought Sylvia to see me. He handed me a document. Divorce papers. “Today is my one-hundredth day with Sylvia.” “Her only wish is to register the marriage with me. Aubrey, just for one day. We’ll register, and then we’ll immediately exchange the certificate back.” I looked at him, then at Sylvia, who nestled in his arms, her face presumptuous with favor. Like a bolt of lightning, I suddenly realized who she looked like. All rationality left me. I lunged forward, grabbing Sylvia’s hair and screaming. “Rhodes! Look at her face! She’s just me! Why would you fall for a replacement?! Why?!” Sylvia shrieked. Rhodes brutally shoved me away. I slammed onto the coffee table. Looking down, I saw a fruit knife had lodged, straight and true, into my stomach. Waking up in the hospital again, Rhodes was seated by the bed, his face gray and utterly despairing. The wound required a forced hysterectomy. The knife had also taken an already formed embryo. I wasn’t sterile. Our first child was lost when I miscarried after kneeling all night at his father’s estate. The second was lost when I starved myself into malnutrition, so Rhodes could eat one more meal. The third was when a business rival intentionally hit my car… I lost count of how many times I was pregnant for him, and how many times I lost them. I only remembered the last time the doctor told me: “Mrs. Victor, your health is too fragile. Forcing another pregnancy will kill you.” Rhodes was terrified. He held me tightly and promised, “We won’t have children, Aubrey. We’ll be child-free.” But I wanted a complete family with him so badly. And now, after all the fighting and sacrifice, I had completely lost the chance to become a mother. Rhodes’s tears were hot and remorseful. He swore, “It’s okay, Aubrey. We have each other, and that’s enough. I’ll treat you well from now on. I promise I’ll never let you be hurt again.” I couldn’t hear anything. My world was a vast emptiness. Sylvia, standing to the side, suddenly tugged on Rhodes’s shirt, her voice timid. “Rhodes, what happened to your sister-in-law was an accident. Don’t blame yourself too much.” “Let me tell you some good news. I’m pregnant. You can still be a father. Are you happy?” My head exploded in a deafening buzz. I found strength I didn’t know I had. I lunged from the bed, reaching for her. “Bitch! You did this on purpose!” Rhodes didn’t hesitate. He violently threw me back onto the hospital bed, spinning to shield Sylvia in his arms. “Aubrey Victor! What is wrong with you?!” “Sylvia just told you it was an accident! Why do you have to be so unforgiving?” He was panting, completely out of control. “If you couldn’t keep the baby, if you couldn’t keep your uterus, why don’t you look at yourself for a change?” The IV needle had been ripped from my hand. Blood was pouring onto the sheets. But I felt no pain. Only a cold, dead silence, spreading from my heart to every limb. Rhodes stared at me, then looked at the blood on my hand, his face paling as he finally realized what he’d said. He quickly released Sylvia and tried to approach me. “Aubrey, you’re bleeding! Nurse! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…” I looked at him. The last light in my eyes went out. “Rhodes, let’s get a divorce.”

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I had given the company fifteen years, building the European market from a blank slate. On the new CEO’s first day, he publicly shredded my contract: Forty-year-old deadwood. Salary slashed from fifty thousand to fifteen thousand a month. Take it or quit. I signed it. He then turned to the executive board meeting and asked, “Who will manage the two-billion-dollar European portfolio?” The conference room fell into a deathly silence. I stood up. “Three days from now, our competition will tell you.” His face went white. 1 It was eight in the morning, and I was walking into the office tower with a cup of scalding Americano. The young receptionist, fresh out of college, caught my eye, and her gaze flickered away. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she swallowed the words, looking uncomfortable. A tight, cold knot formed in my stomach. A sense of foreboding, like a damp, chilling fog, silently rolled in. The internal line on my desk shrieked the moment I set down my coffee. It was HR, summoning all management above the mid-level to an immediate meeting in the top-floor conference room. The air conditioning was set impossibly low in the room, making my skin prickle with cold. Blaine Harrison, the newly appointed CEO, was already seated at the head of the long mahogany table. He was in his early thirties, impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit, his hair slicked back without a single strand out of place. The look he gave everyone was one of unconcealed condescension. He cleared his throat and immediately cut to the chase, announcing a radical restructuring of the company. Then, his voice shifted, suddenly sharp and loud. “In particular, we need to clean house. We have to purge the dead weight—those entrenched, underperforming senior staff who are clinging to high salaries, becoming a drain on our growth.” The moment the words landed, dozens of eyes subtly drifted toward me. The Head of HR was sweating profusely, looking like a nervous executioner about to carry out a distasteful duty. He shakily opened a file and began reading the list of salary reductions. After a string of names, my own was spat out clearly: “Elias Vic, Director of Global Operations. Monthly salary adjusted from fifty thousand to fifteen thousand.” A seventy percent cut. The entire conference room went silent, so quiet you could hear the hiss of the central air. It felt like a massive vacuum had sealed us all in, crushing the air from the room. Dozens of gazes—some pitying, some gleeful, some aghast—pierced me like a flurry of fine needles. I gripped the glass of ice water in front of me, my knuckles turning a shocking white from the sheer force of my hold. Blaine leaned back in his chair, a cold, mocking smirk playing on his lips. He looked directly at me, his words slow, deliberate, and designed to sting. “Forty years old, and you expect to command a salary like that? Mr. Vic, is this a corporation or a retirement home?” “If you have an issue with this, Director Vic, you’re welcome to pack your desk and leave right now.” I took a deep breath. The icy air burned my lungs, bringing on a sharp, fierce ache. My mind raced, flashing through the cinematic reel of the last fifteen years. Dragging my suitcase through unfamiliar streets late at night in a foreign country, all to open up a non-existent European market. Drinking until my stomach bled at a negotiation dinner to seal a deal with a notoriously difficult client. The family holidays I missed. The New Year’s Eves spent in airplane seats. The grey hairs that had mysteriously appeared at my temples. All of it converged into a surge of scalding resentment that threatened to choke me. My assistant, Cathy, who was seated a few rows back, shot up abruptly. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, and her lips were trembling—she was clearly about to leap to my defense. I lifted my eyes and silenced her with a single, uncompromising look. Arguing with a person like Blaine was a guaranteed path to self-humiliation. I rose slowly, pulling my chair back. The action was small, but the sound of the chair on the floor echoed sharply in the oppressive silence. “Where is the new salary agreement?” My voice was unnervingly calm, even to my own ears. “I’ll sign it.” A collective gasp swept through the room. Blaine was clearly thrown by my immediate compliance. He hesitated for a beat, then a look of smug victory spread across his face as he pushed a document toward me. I took the pen and, without a moment of indecision, scrawled my name, Elias Vic, across the signature line. The force I used was so great it nearly tore the thin paper. Having signed, I tossed the pen down and turned to walk away from this sickening scene. “Wait.” Blaine’s voice barked out from behind me. I didn’t turn back. He sounded slightly frantic now, his urgency cutting through his arrogance. “Who will handle the two-billion-dollar European portfolio going forward?” A strange, heavy silence descended upon the meeting room again. The executives exchanged nervous glances. No one dared to speak. I could feel the color draining, little by little, from Blaine’s youthful, cocky face. 2 I finally stopped and slowly turned around. I met Blaine’s now-pale gaze across the long expanse of the conference table. “The European portfolio?” I repeated, my tone laced with dry amusement. Blaine tried to reclaim a sliver of composure, straightening his spine. “Yes. The twenty-billion-euro deal in Germany that’s up for renewal. You’ve been the lead director for that, haven’t you?” I offered a slight smile, utterly devoid of warmth. “I was the director, yes.” “But didn’t you just personally declare, Mr. Harrison, that a forty-year-old piece of deadwood doesn’t deserve a high salary at this company?” “So, what is it? Do you plan to entrust a two-billion-dollar project to a ‘piece of deadwood’?” My words were like a blade of ice, surgically aimed at his most vulnerable spot. Blaine’s face cycled through shades of red and white. His voice softened, carrying a hint of desperation and damage control. “I said a salary reduction, not a termination. Of course, the project remains your responsibility.” I gently shook my head, my gaze sweeping over every executive present. “A fifteen-thousand-dollar-a-month salary to manage a two-billion-dollar annual contract?” “Mr. Harrison, you aren’t insulting me. You’re insulting the project, and you’re insulting the fifteen years of trust this company has built with that client.” Muted murmurs began to ripple through the room. The Operations Director couldn’t hold back. “Mr. Harrison, the European contract is mission-critical. Mr. Klaus in Germany only recognizes Elias.” Blaine lost his temper, slamming his hand on the table, trying to drown out his own insecurity with volume. “Elias Vic, don’t push your luck! The company invested in you for years! Is this how you repay that investment?” “Investment?” His choice of word actually made me laugh—a short, sharp burst of air. I pulled out my phone, opening a document I’d kept filed away for fifteen years. I turned the screen toward him, my voice quiet but every word carrying the weight of a ton of bricks. “Three hundred and nineteen trips to Europe. An average of twenty-one flights per year. Enough air miles to circle the globe dozens of times.” “It took me five years to crack the German market, which the entire industry called an impenetrable fortress.” “It took me eight years to build a sales channel from scratch that covers all of Western Europe.” “Last year, the European division’s revenue accounted for forty-two percent of this corporation’s total income.” “Mr. Harrison, do you call that an investment? I was the one investing my life.” Cathy, my assistant, her eyes red with anger, spoke up beside me, her voice firm. “All the core European clients—Mr. Vic won them, one drink, one pitch, one relentless visit after another. Many of them only trust his face, his word, and his integrity.” Blaine’s breathing grew ragged. He glared at me, his eyes practically trying to tear me apart. “So what do you want?” he ground out through clenched teeth. I pocketed my phone, my expression returning to the profound calm I’d started with. “I don’t want anything.” “I’ve signed the salary reduction agreement. As per company policy, my official termination is three days from now.” “As for this two-billion-dollar European portfolio, Mr. Harrison, you’re an accomplished MBA from a top-tier school, a man of exceptional capability. I’ll leave it to you.” With that, I didn’t spare a second glance at his distorted, enraged face. I turned and walked out of the conference room with a steady, decisive stride. As the door clicked shut behind me, I thought I heard the faint, chilling sound of a world beginning to crack. 3 I returned to my Director’s office, the one I had occupied for ten years, and began quietly packing my personal belongings. Fifteen years of accumulation—not too much, but certainly not little. My phone hadn’t stopped vibrating since I got back to the office, a stream of messages from my team members and friendly directors in other departments, all expressing their sympathy and shock. I didn’t reply to any of them. The office door burst open. Cathy was the first to rush in, her eyes red and swollen, clutching a crumpled piece of paper. “Mr. Vic, I quit too! I was on the reduction list. They slashed me from eighteen thousand to eight thousand. They’re trying to force us out!” As she finished speaking, the six other core members of the European market team filed in one by one. Each of them held a signed copy of the reduction agreement and a freshly printed resignation letter. “Elias, we’re done with them.” “This place is toxic. It’s like kicking the horse after it carried you across the finish line.” “We’re leaving with you!” I looked at the men and women standing before me—my team, some of whom had been with me for five years, others for a decade—and a wave of warmth washed over me. My eyes pricked with emotion. I suppressed the surge of feeling and urged them to be rational. “Hold on, all of you. Think this through. You all have families, mortgages, car payments. Don’t be impulsive.” Cathy stepped forward, her voice choked with tears but utterly resolute. “Elias, you didn’t just teach us how to do business. You taught us how to be professionals with dignity.” “If they can do this to you today, they’ll do it to us tomorrow. We can’t stay in a company that disrespects its champions.” Just then, the Head of HR came scurrying into the office without even knocking, his face etched with panic. Gasping for breath, he pleaded, “Mr. Vic, please, don’t do anything hasty. Mr. Harrison asked me to deliver a message: The salary cut… it’s negotiable. Everything can be negotiated!” I ignored him, turning instead to look out the window at the gray sky hanging over the city. “Tell him it’s too late.” At three that afternoon, Blaine Harrison, likely realizing the true gravity of the situation, personally came down to our floor. The moment he saw the seven neatly stacked resignation letters on my desk, his young, handsome face turned a sickening shade of green. Furious, he pointed a finger directly at me, his voice thin and shrill with anger. “Elias Vic, you’re gutting the company! This is malicious incitement of a collective resignation!” I calmly filed the last document into my cardboard box, then looked up at him. “Mr. Harrison, you were the one who started digging up the foundations of this wall. Have you ever heard of a principle where you starve the horse to death and then expect it to run the fastest?” Blaine was momentarily speechless. He quickly resorted to threats. “Fine! Very well! All of you, remember this: Every single one of you signed a Non-Disclosure Agreement and a Non-Compete clause! I’d like to see which competitor’s doorstep you dare show up on!” Hearing this, I actually smiled. I pulled my employment contract from a drawer, flipped to the Non-Compete page, and pointed it out to him. “Mr. Harrison, please read the terms carefully. The Non-Compete clause only takes effect if the company pays three full months of severance in a timely manner.” “If you’re willing to transfer the total severance package for all seven of us—several hundred thousand dollars—right now, we will absolutely adhere to the agreement.” “I’ll wait for the wire transfer.” Blaine’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. 4 At nine that night, as I was moving the last box of my belongings into my apartment, an unfamiliar number flashed on my phone. I answered, and a steady, hearty male voice came through. “Is this Elias Vic? This is Jonathan Zhou from OmniCorp.” OmniCorp: my former company’s biggest competitor in the domestic market. Jonathan Zhou: OmniCorp’s founder and CEO, a shrewd operator known industry-wide for his reputation for spotting and valuing talent. “Mr. Zhou, hello.” I was genuinely surprised. Jonathan got straight to the point, his voice containing a note of barely suppressed surprise and excitement. “Mr. Vic, I just heard the news—you’ve left your former employer?” I leaned back on my sofa, rubbing my tired temples, a bitter chuckle escaping me. “Mr. Zhou, your intelligence network is impressive. I finalized my paperwork at five, and it’s only been four hours.” Jonathan laughed heartily. “A man like Elias Vic is always the focus of the industry, no matter the move.” He skipped the pleasantries and immediately extended an offer, his tone sincere and irresistible. “Elias, I won’t waste your time with small talk. Come to OmniCorp. I’m offering you the position of Group Vice President, overseeing our entire international business segment. A two-million-dollar annual salary, plus equity incentives.” The terms were several times better than my salary before the reduction. I paused for three seconds, running a quick calculation in my head. “Mr. Zhou, thank you for the generous offer. I have one condition.” “Name it.” “I need to bring my six core team members with me.” Jonathan on the other end didn’t hesitate for a second. He agreed immediately and enthusiastically. “No problem! Any talent you value, OmniCorp welcomes with open arms! The compensation will be top-tier—nothing less than what they were earning, if not more!” We agreed to meet the next morning at OmniCorp headquarters for a detailed discussion. I hung up, letting out a long sigh, and looked out at the glittering city lights against the night sky, a mix of complex emotions churning inside me. Just then, my phone screen lit up again—a video call request from Germany. It was my biggest client and long-time friend, Mr. Klaus. I answered the call. Mr. Klaus’s wrinkled face was etched with worry and anger. “Elias, my friend, I just heard an incredible story. They said your salary was cut, and you’re leaving?” I was startled. This was internal corporate drama. How did he know about it from all the way in Germany? “Mr. Klaus, how did you find out?” Mr. Klaus’s mustache was practically vibrating with indignation. “This afternoon, the new, young CEO’s assistant from your company called me. He told me that all European business would be directly managed by them from now on. The young man’s attitude was appallingly arrogant, as if he were granting me a favor!” “I only recognize you, Elias! We’ve worked together for ten years! I only trust you! If you truly leave that company, I will pull our order immediately!” Hearing the voice of my old friend, a current of warmth instantly surged through me. Fifteen years of dedication, fifteen years of building trust through genuine connection—it had finally given me the loudest, most resolute answer I could have hoped for. 5 At ten the next morning, my team and I formally signed our contracts in the conference room at OmniCorp headquarters. Jonathan Zhou greeted us personally, without a trace of the corporate executive’s aloofness, treating us like long-lost friends. My contract clearly stated: Group Vice President, two million annual salary, and three percent in equity incentives. Cathy and the other six members’ compensation was doubled, and each of them received a promotion. Cathy’s hand trembled slightly as she signed the papers and looked at the contract. She leaned close to me, her voice catching with emotion. “Elias, we’ve finally found a company that truly understands and respects talent.” Jonathan clapped me on the shoulder, his eyes full of admiration and expectation. “To be honest, Elias, I’ve been waiting three years for the opportunity to poach you. From now on, OmniCorp’s entire European market is in your hands.” Meanwhile, my former company was plunging into unprecedented chaos. Blaine Harrison had urgently convened all senior management. The atmosphere in the conference room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The Operations Director reported anxiously, “Mr. Harrison, what do we do about the European portfolio? We have three days left to renew the twenty-billion-euro contract with Germany’s Mr. Klaus!” According to later leaks, Blaine was still in denial. He slammed the table again, his voice thin and blustering. “Don’t panic! How much leverage can a forty-year-old middle manager possibly have? The company doesn’t stop for anyone! We’ll send some young exec over. I refuse to believe the Germans will sacrifice our partnership for him!” The Head of HR quietly reminded him, “Mr. Harrison, the German office has already explicitly emailed us, stating that the renewal must be handled personally by Director Vic, or they will reassess the entire relationship.” Blaine waved his hand dismissively, clearly unaffected. “Then we’ll find other clients! Europe is a massive market. Are we really afraid of not finding a single partner? What a joke!” The moment the words left his mouth, his assistant rushed into the room, his face paper-white.

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