I was so deep in character that I absentmindedly shoved the prop “Termination Consent Form” into my trench coat pocket. When I got home, my boyfriend—an A-list movie star whose relationship with me was still a secret—was digging through my coat and found the paper. His voice sounded like he had swallowed broken glass. “When did this happen?” I thought he was asking when the scene wrapped. “Just this afternoon. It was super quick. I didn’t feel a thing, and then it was over.” The light in his eyes died instantly. He collapsed onto the sofa. The next day, I left for a closed-set location shoot. When I finally emerged weeks later, I heard he had canceled all his press tours. He had spent forty-nine days at a silent spiritual retreat, lighting candles daily to pray for the soul of an unborn child. 1. I barely got through the front door before Liam’s lips were on mine. He tasted like peppermint and desperation. His arms locked around my waist like a vice, his breath hot against my neck. Normally, facing Liam’s enthusiasm, I’d be ready to go a few rounds. But not today. I had just wrapped a grueling shoot, and my body felt like it had been run over by a truck. All I wanted was a hot shower. “Babe, stop…” I turned my head, dodging his kiss. “My back is breaking. Mercy, please.” Liam froze. The lust in his eyes instantly melted into concern. “That tired?” “Mhm.” I peeled off my trench coat and blindly shoved it into his chest. “Hang this up for me? I need to scrub this makeup off.” I walked straight to the bathroom. Behind me, I heard the rustle of fabric. Liam was a neat freak; he always handled the laundry and coats. I turned on the faucet, letting the water run loud as I pumped cleansing oil into my hand to attack my waterproof mascara. Suddenly, Liam’s voice came from the hallway. It was quiet, laced with a tremor so faint I almost missed it. “Harper… when did this happen?” I kept my eyes closed, massaging the oil into my skin. I assumed he was asking when we finished filming. “Just this afternoon. It was super quick. I didn’t feel a thing, and then it was over.” I had been worried about that final scene, but it had gone surprisingly smoothly, which was why I was home early. “…Did it hurt?” Hearing the softness in his voice warmed my chest. I had spent two hours in a harness doing wirework today. Of course it hurt. But on set, you don’t complain. You suck it up. So, I answered breezily: “It was okay. Stung a little in the moment, but I don’t feel anything now.” Outside, rain started to lash against the windowpane, blurring the city lights. The air in the hallway seemed to freeze solid. Liam’s voice shook. “…Why didn’t you tell me?” Men. Always getting moody over nothing. Was he upset I didn’t text him the minute I wrapped? “Why would I bother you with a little thing like that?” I called back. “Plus, there were like fifty people watching. You want our relationship leaked?” I shut the bathroom door, cutting off the conversation. I stripped and slid into the bathtub, finally relaxing. Just as I closed my eyes, a knock came at the door. “Harper?” I splashed some water. “What now?” Silence for a second. “Don’t make the water too hot. It’s… it’s bad for your body right now. And don’t stay in there too long. You might faint.” “I know, I know. You’re turning into my mother, I swear.” He didn’t reply. But I heard him on the phone a moment later. “…What if she catches a chill?… What kind of vitamins do we need?… Yeah, I know she looks fine, but we have to be careful…” I assumed he was just being his usual overprotective self, probably calling his nutritionist. I didn’t see that outside the door, Liam hung up the phone and silently cranked the thermostat up to seventy-eight degrees. 2. When I came out, wrapped in a towel, Liam was sitting on the couch like a statue. The reading lamp cast a long, lonely shadow across the floor. He looked like a puppy that had been kicked to the curb. Liam was a method actor. Sometimes he got too deep into a headspace, so I didn’t think much of it. I didn’t have time to coddle him. I had to leave for a remote location shoot in the mountains tomorrow. Period drama. No cell service. I opened my suitcase and started throwing clothes in. Liam watched me pack, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. Finally, as I was about to zip the bag, he grabbed my hand. “Harper.” “Do you have to go tomorrow?” “You… you haven’t recovered yet.” I looked at him, confused. “Recovered from what? I’m fine. I’m strong as an ox.” “Besides, the whole crew is waiting on me. If I don’t show up, that’s a breach of contract. Do you know how much the penalty fee is?” “I’ll pay it,” he blurted out. “Just stay home and rest. Please?” I frowned, looking at him in disbelief. “Liam, are you okay?” “Who was the one who told me actors need integrity? That once you sign a contract, you show up? Since when am I so delicate that I need bed rest?” Liam’s face went ghost white, as if I’d slapped him. I didn’t understand his reaction. He was being incredibly clingy tonight. I stood up and latched the suitcase. “You were the one who told me to focus on my career. Now that I’m finally getting some good roles, you want to lock me up in the house like a trophy wife?” That seemed to be the final blow. Liam stumbled back half a step and fell onto the sofa. He looked at me, his eyes shattered glass. “Yes… I told you to focus on your career.” He let out a hollow, broken laugh. “My mistake.” I turned around to wheel my suitcase to the door, ignoring his drama. I didn’t hear him whisper, “I killed it.” 3. I was exhausted. I hit the pillow and was out like a light. But in the middle of the night, I woke up smelling peppermint. I was leaving for two months tomorrow. The thought of being apart made me clingy. Half-asleep, I rolled over and snuggled into his chest, my hand sliding under his t-shirt. “Liam…” My voice was thick with sleep, soft and needy. I tilted my head up to find his lips. The next second, I froze. Liam pushed me away. It wasn’t rough, but it was firm. A clear rejection. He caught my wandering hand. “Don’t. Go to sleep.” I grumbled, annoyed. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I won’t see you for weeks. This is the send-off I get?” Usually, this man couldn’t keep his hands off me. Tonight, he was acting like a monk. He scooted back, pulling the duvet up to my chin, tucking me in like a burrito. “Be good.” In the dark, his gaze was heavy. “Your body… it’s too soon. Don’t push yourself.” I frowned, fully awake now. “I’m tired, yeah, but you’re seriously turning me down?” “Next time you want me, don’t expect me to be this easy!” “Just sleep,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. I glared at him. Something was wrong with him tonight. Fine. If he was bored of me, whatever. “Fine! Who cares!” I rolled over, turning my back to him, and pulled the covers over my head. “Goodnight. Don’t touch me.” Behind me, I heard a long, trembling exhale. 4. Liam didn’t sleep that night. He watched Harper’s back as she slept. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a hydraulic press. He couldn’t close his eyes. Every time he did, he saw that crumpled paper: Termination Consent Form. He thought back to an afternoon two months ago. The sunlight had been perfect, highlighting the peach fuzz on her cheeks. She was scrolling through TikTok in his arms. She shoved the screen in his face. It was a video of a toddler in a pink dress. Harper’s eyes were sparkling. “Liam, look! She’s so cute! What do you think our kids would look like?” She looked up at him, full of hope. “I hope they have your jawline and my eyes.” Liam had sighed. He loved her. And because he loved her, he knew how brutal Hollywood was. “Harper, you’re young.” “This industry eats women alive. You have a golden window. If you have a baby now, the gap in your resume… the market forgets people fast.” He had tried to be logical. “You have talent. You have momentum. You shouldn’t be tied down so early.” “As for kids… let’s talk about it later. Okay?” The light in Harper’s eyes had dimmed. Right. He was a movie star. He wasn’t ready to be a dad. She had smiled quickly to cover it up. “Why so serious? I was just talking.” Now, remembering that moment, Liam buried his face in his hands. He was garbage. What if she was already pregnant then? What if she was testing the waters? And his “logical” answer made her think he didn’t want the baby. He couldn’t imagine what she felt walking into that clinic alone. And then coming home and saying “It was quick” and “I didn’t feel a thing.” He knew her. The more casual she acted, the more she was hurting. Guilt consumed him like a wildfire. He reached out to touch her stomach, then stopped, afraid to wake her. He just sat there in the dark, his hand hovering over the empty space where a life used to be. Eventually, he sat up and opened a group chat with his closest friends—guys he’d known since college. Liam: My child is gone. It was a bomb. Scott: Dude, what? Are you joking? Harper was pregnant? Liam: She had the procedure. Yesterday afternoon. Scott: Holy… I was smoking near her last week at the BBQ. I’m going to hell. That was my nephew! Ben: Wait. A decision that big… she didn’t discuss it with you? Liam: It’s my fault. I didn’t make her feel safe. Ben: If you’re hurting, man, go to the retreat in Big Sur. Light a candle. Find some peace. Liam stared at the words. He couldn’t sleep. He got up, packed a small bag, kissed Harper’s forehead, and left. He drove through the night, heading toward the coast.

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It was the seventh day of the cold war between Declan and me. Then, the car accident happened. He rushed to the hospital. I sat on the bench outside the ER, seemingly unharmed. The person being resuscitated inside was the Omega he had brought home seven days ago. “Noah, you better pray he’s okay.” Declan was trembling with rage, his voice freezing the air around us. “If he isn’t, I will make you suffer ten times the pain he’s feeling right now.” So, like a criminal awaiting sentencing, I sat there. Imprisoned on that cold metal chair by my own Alpha. I didn’t realize that my internal organs had ruptured. I didn’t realize my abdominal cavity was slowly filling with blood. I didn’t notice… until it was too late. 1. I didn’t feel the pain at first. After the violent impact, there was only a persistent numbness and stiffness spreading through my limbs. “Sir?” A young nurse walked over, pointing to my forehead. “You’re bleeding. Let me bandage that for you.” I shook my head. The nurse frowned. “Are you sure? You should get a full scan after a crash like that. Some injuries aren’t obvious at first, but internally—” “Noah!” A familiar, commanding voice thundered from the other end of the corridor. A top-tier Alpha in a black trench coat strode toward me, bringing a gust of winter chill with him. His aggressive, S-class pheromones flooded the hallway, the invisible pressure sending the nurse scurrying away in fear. Declan stopped in front of me. Looking down, his voice was dark. “Why?” “What?” I looked up at him. My thoughts were sluggish. I didn’t process what he meant. Declan stared at me, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Just because I brought Caleb home, you wanted to kill him? Is that it?” So, that’s what he thought. He thought I crashed the car on purpose to kill Caleb. “I didn’t.” I lowered my head. “I mind him. I hate him. But I never thought about killing him.” Declan didn’t hesitate. He roared, his anger palpable. “Then why are you sitting here without a scratch while he’s in there fighting for his life?!” His words made the world stop. A coldness rushed from my limbs to my chest. I tilted my face up slowly. My voice was raspy. “So… the one dying should be me, right?” But Declan… I am your Omega. Just because I’m alive, am I automatically the villain? “Noah, you better pray he’s okay.” Declan ignored my pale face. “Otherwise, I will make you pay back every ounce of pain he suffers, ten times over.” My heart felt like it had been flash-frozen. It physically hurt. I turned my head stiffly, refusing to look at him. “If I give you my life in exchange for his, would that be enough?” Declan looked impatient. “I told you. I let Caleb stay in the guest house because he has a severe gland disorder. He needs my pheromones to stabilize his symptoms temporarily. We are not—” “Excuse me.” Two police officers walked over. “Are you Mr. Noah Vance?” I nodded. “Yes.” “We just came from the crash site. We have some questions. Is now a good time?” The other officer added, “We towed your vehicle. The driver’s side is destroyed. You must have taken a hard hit. Are you sure you’re medically fit to answer questions?” Before I could speak, Declan looked at me, frowning. “Noah, are you injured?” 2. Declan’s gaze swept over my forehead. “It’s just a scratch,” he scoffed. “Compared to the person dying inside, it’s nothing.” I smiled. It was a self-deprecating smile, born of exhaustion. Right. Compared to Caleb, I was nothing to Declan. “I’m fine,” I told the officer softly. “Ask away.” “Mr. Vance, why did your vehicle suddenly veer into the statue?” “Brake failure,” I whispered. “As we neared the hospital, the brakes just… stopped working.” “When was your last inspection?” the officer asked. “Last month,” Declan interjected, his voice deep. “His car is serviced by professionals every quarter.” The officer took notes. “Where were you taking the passenger, Mr. Caleb Ross?” “To the hospital.” “Don’t lie!” Declan snapped. “Caleb’s check-up isn’t scheduled for today.” I explained, “He suddenly felt sick. He begged me to drive him.” “Impossible,” Declan cut me off. “Caleb is terrified of you. He avoids you like the plague. Why would he ask you for help?” He glared at me. “Besides, you’re hostile toward him. I don’t believe you would willingly drive him anywhere.” “I’m not lying.” I closed my eyes, my voice trembling. “He said if I didn’t drive him, he’d call you. He’d beg you to take him.” “I… I didn’t want you to take him.” Declan frowned. “Why?” My lips parted, but I said nothing. Why? Because you are my Alpha. Because I love you. Before we even got married, I had loved you for a long, long time. “Do you remember the moment of the accident?” the officer asked. “After the brakes failed, we picked up speed. There was a red light ahead. People in the crosswalk.” “I had no choice. To avoid the pedestrians, I slammed the wheel to the right.” I frowned, trying to recall through the fog in my brain. “But I specifically maneuvered to protect the passenger side. He shouldn’t be in critical condition…” My thoughts cut off abruptly. I looked at the officers blankly. “Are you… do you suspect me too?” “Sorry,” the officer said. “The investigation is ongoing. We cannot rule out foul play yet. You cannot leave the city until we close the case.” The police left. The corridor returned to a deadly silence. I felt incredibly tired. I leaned my head back against the wall and asked Declan calmly, “Do you really want to send me to prison?” If I went to jail for reckless driving, you and Caleb could finally be together properly. Declan sat next to me, his expression grim. “You did something dangerous and despicable. Isn’t prison the punishment you deserve?” I gave a tired laugh. “Yeah…” Punishment. Because I was despicable. I used my family’s connections to become Declan’s Omega. I naively thought he would eventually love me. The silent companionship, the carefully prepared meals. The way I offered myself like a sacrifice whenever his Rut hit. Looking back, it was all a joke. “Noah.” Declan interrupted my thoughts coldly. “You can actually smile right now? I overestimated your sense of shame.” A strange, dull ache began to spread from my left side. I clenched my fist, pressing it against my ribs. I called his name softly. “Declan.” Ignoring his cruelty, I asked carefully, “Do you regret marrying me?” 3. I knew I would marry Declan when I was nineteen. “Noah, count your lucky stars,” my stepmother sneered. “If you hadn’t presented as an Omega, the Sterling family would have canceled this engagement immediately.” “With Declan Sterling’s status, even top-tier Omegas would kill to stand next to him.” I thought I was lucky, too. Not because of the wealth. But because I could marry the man I had silently loved for years. But the happiness didn’t last. Before graduation, Declan found me. He didn’t recognize me. He looked at me coldly. “I need you to reject the engagement.” “You can blame it on me. Make up any reason.” I stared at my shoes, digging my nails into my palms. “Can I ask why?” Declan laughed. He looked at me like I was a child. His voice softened. “You’re an Omega. It’s better if it comes from you.” I was mesmerized by his sudden gentleness. “Is it because you’re in love with someone else?” “No.” His eyes darkened. “It’s because I just broke up with him.” I found out later. The person he broke up with was Caleb. I married Declan anyway. I thought: He’s single now. What if? What if he learns to like me? If, after a year, he still doesn’t love me, I’ll initiate the divorce. Just let me stay by his side for one year. But humans are greedy. Once I was by his side, I wanted the hugs, the kisses, the Marking. I wanted him completely. I even deluded myself into thinking he liked me a little bit. “Hah.” Declan scoffed beside me. “If I knew you were capable of this, I never would have compromised. I never would have honored that contract.” So, he regretted it. I wanted to laugh it off and say, It’s okay. I’ll talk to the elders. We can annul it. But I couldn’t smile. The pain in my abdomen was escalating. I bit my lip to stop a groan, but my body betrayed me. I slumped sideways, my head hitting Declan’s shoulder. He didn’t dodge. Instead, he grabbed my arm roughly. “Sit up!” He looked furious. “Noah, are you acting pitiful now?” I tried to straighten my spine. I shook my head. Weakly, I asked, “Can you buy me a bottle of water?” “Why?” Declan eyed me suspiciously. “Trying to distract me so you can run away?” “No.” I breathed through a sharp wave of pain. “Then… I’ll go to the restroom.” Once I stood up, the pain became bearable. Maybe it was just muscle strain from the crash tensing up. I went to the bathroom and drank tap water from the faucet. I was so thirsty. I splashed cold water on my face. Looking in the mirror, I lifted my shirt. To my surprise, a massive purple bruise was blooming across my left abdomen. It was shocking to look at. Did I hit the console during the crash? I couldn’t remember. I dropped my shirt. Declan appeared in the reflection behind me. Before I could speak, he frowned deeply. He turned to the hallway and shouted: “Doctor!” 4. A doctor arrived quickly. Declan pointed at me. “Get him a water.” Then he looked at my wet shirt, his expression cold. “What game are you playing now? Get out here and sit down.” He dragged me back to the cold metal bench. He sat next to me, guarding me like a prisoner. That was fine. I thought bitterly: When Caleb comes out, Declan will send me to prison anyway. This might be the last time I get to talk to him. I drank the whole bottle of water. Suddenly, dizzy spells hit me. My strength evaporated. “Declan.” I leaned back, whispering. “There’s something I’ve wanted to apologize for. I didn’t listen to you back then. I didn’t refuse the engagement.” My heart was pounding violently. I gasped for air. “I lied to you. I said I tried… but I didn’t. I was so happy I could marry you.” “How could I refuse?” Declan looked at me with confusion. I smiled weakly. “Declan, I’ve loved you… for so long.” “You probably forgot, but we met years ago.” We met at my house. My father’s company was taking off. He threw a lavish party. My new stepmother—a washed-up Omega actress—moved in with her son, who was three years older than me. My father slapped me in front of everyone because I refused to call them “Mom” and “Brother.” The boy, eleven years old, smirked at me from his mother’s arms. During the banquet, the boy threw leftover fat and bones into my bowl. I tried to leave. He cornered me in the hallway, forcing me to kneel and call him ‘Brother.’ I glared at his chubby face. “Get lost.” He raised a hand to hit me. I kicked him in the stomach. He fell, wailing like a banshee. I saw Declan then. He stood at the end of the hall. He was taller than me. He had an Alpha inhibitor patch on his neck. He looked cold. I braced myself for him to tell on me. But Declan stepped over the crying boy. “Shut up,” he whispered to my stepbrother. “Unless you want to die, tell them you fell.” Then he looked at me. “Nice kick.” “Go. You’re safe now.” Declan said I was safe, and I was. My stepbrother never messed with me again. And I never forgot Declan. “Later, we went to the same university.” I smiled, though my eyelids were too heavy to keep open. “I was so happy. I tried to manufacture ‘accidental’ meetings. But every time I stood in front of you, I couldn’t speak. I was such an idiot.” My head lolled to the side. I whispered, “I’ve always been stupid, haven’t I?” “I thought you’d remember me. I thought you might like me. I thought… you’d believe me.” My forehead rested against Declan’s shoulder. This time, he didn’t push me away. “What is your goal with this story?” Declan’s voice was ice. “I fulfilled the marriage contract. You should be satisfied. I’m just helping a sick friend. Why are you acting like this?” When I didn’t answer, Declan grabbed my shoulders and sat me upright. “Noah! Why can’t you sit still?” He frowned, looking stern. “What is wrong with you? Are you dizzy?” “I’m just tired.” My voice was a breath. “Let me sleep for a while. Just a little while…” “Noah—” I closed my eyes. I didn’t hear what he said next.

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Elijah Vance’s childhood sweetheart miscarried. He assumed it was my doing, that I had used poison. I was in agony, writhing on the floor in excruciating pain. The System declared my mission a failure. At that moment, his voice was ice-cold: “You owe this to Chloe. You won’t die, because I intend to make your life a living hell.” Click. A second later, I died right in front of him. 1. My death was incredibly abrupt. No one saw it coming. Just moments ago, I was drenched in cold sweat, biting my lip until it bled. I clutched the hem of Elijah’s suit jacket, begging: “Elijah, please… Chloe’s miscarriage… I swear I didn’t do it.” Because the poison I supposedly gave them was lethal. But he didn’t believe me. He hated me to his core. Through gritted teeth, he hissed: “Vivian, I told you—Chloe’s accident years ago wasn’t intentional. Why are you still holding a grudge?” On the hospital bed, Chloe sobbed: “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come back. Elijah, let me just die. Let me go be with our baby!” Years ago, Elijah was the black sheep of the Vance family—the illegitimate son, powerless and ignored. When it came time to choose a fiancée, Chloe was the first to run. She publicly sneered: “I’m not marrying him! Who wants to be the wife of a loser?” Elijah was humiliated, the laughingstock of New York’s elite circle. Yet, seven years after I married Elijah, she came back. She wept and threw herself into his arms. “Elijah, I was wrong! My father forced me to say those things. I had no choice. But all these years, I never married anyone because I was waiting for you!” By then, Elijah had become the CEO of Vance Global, the heir apparent. And I had just found out I was two months pregnant. He held my hand, smiling. “Viv, when everyone looked down on me, you were the one who stood by my side. You suffered so much for me in those early years.” “From now on, I, Elijah Vance, will never let anyone hurt you again.” Then Chloe threw herself at him. At first, he was disgusted. He pushed her away, looking at the tear-stained woman with cold eyes. “What makes you think I’d still be waiting for you?” He held my hand tighter, enunciating every word: “I only love Viv now.” So, how did he go soft? 2. Was it because Chloe stood in the rain outside our estate for twenty-four hours, begging for just one glimpse of him? But back then, Elijah simply paused while putting food on my plate and scoffed: “Throw her out. Don’t let her dirty my driveway.” Or was it her relentless persistence, her desperate pleas for him to just look at her once? Even I started to feel a twinge of pity. But he just shielded me from her view, acting like he didn’t care at all. “Get out! If you upset my wife again, I won’t be so forgiving!” Chloe’s face went pale, as if struck by a physical blow. “Elijah… do you really not recognize me anymore?” Everyone in our circle knew the story. When Elijah was a kid, locked in a basement by his abusive stepmother, a girl had accidentally found him and saved his life. That girl was Chloe. She was bratty and entitled, but Elijah called it “spirited.” She bullied others, but Elijah called it “charming.” If she hadn’t smashed the engagement ring and run off years ago, they probably would have been the perfect couple. But that humiliation became a thorn in Elijah’s heart. Hearing her bring up the past, his face darkened. “Get lost!” 3. Chloe really did disappear. For two whole months. At first, I was worried. “I hope nothing happened to her.” She had been stalking Elijah for so long; if something bad happened, people might blame him. But he didn’t care. “Why worry about her, Viv? She has nothing to do with us.” Nothing to do with us? I looked at the red marks on his hand from how tightly he had clenched his fist earlier. I felt a chill in my heart. 4. Elijah didn’t know that I was actually a “Tasker.” At seventeen, suffering from a terminal illness, a System found me. It told me I had the “Phoenix Destiny.” If I successfully “captured” Elijah’s heart and helped him become a wise leader, I would live a long, healthy life. Plus, according to the plot, we were soulmates. I didn’t know about plots. I didn’t know about capturing hearts. I just wanted to live. So, when every other socialite was making excuses to avoid him during his lowest point, I stepped forward. “Fine. I’ll marry him.” That marriage lasted seven years. We weathered storms together, moving from polite strangers to inseparable partners. He climbed the ladder, becoming the CEO. My health improved, and I even got pregnant. To say I didn’t develop feelings over time would be a lie. There were many moments I genuinely thought we would grow old together. But the moment Chloe reappeared, I knew it was over. Because two months after she disappeared, Elijah received a suicide note. If it had been before, he would have burned it without a second thought. He would have said: “My heart only has room for Viv! Especially not for a gold-digger!” But this time… He tore open the envelope, panic in his eyes. Chloe’s handwriting was frantic: Elijah, you don’t want me, and my father is forcing me to marry someone else. Since I can’t be with you, I’d rather die. I’m going to the lake where we first met. Drop. The letter floated to the floor. Elijah ran out, abandoning all dignity. By the time I caught up, he and Chloe were both soaked, embracing by the lake. This time, he didn’t push her away. He held her tightly, terrified she would vanish. The System screamed in my head: “How can the Male Lead have a change of heart?! Host, don’t worry, he’s just momentarily blinded by the supporting character!” I should have felt comforted. I should have held onto hope. But all I felt was cold. 5. After the incident, Elijah came to see me with a heavy expression. That was three days later. He had carried Chloe away and hadn’t come home for three days. I was drinking bitter herbal medicine for the pregnancy. Bowl after bowl. Only the flutter of life in my belly kept me sane. I sat there all night. Finally, Elijah spoke slowly: “Viv, Chloe… she…” “Let her move in,” I said. He froze, then looked surprised and relieved. “Viv, what did you say?” “I said—” I spoke numbly. “Since it’s come to this, let her move into the guest house.” I should have known. Marrying into a powerful family like the Vances… Monogamy was a fairytale. Why did I hold onto hope? Vivian, at least you’re alive. You have a child, right? You just don’t have love anymore. It didn’t seem like such a big deal. But I never expected that in the end, I would lose the child too.

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Caleb Sterling was the untamable bad boy of our vineyard town. And I was his shadow, his unlucky sidekick. He joyrode tractors; I took the blame. He stole wine; I did the time. I thought I could stay by his side forever, until he set his sights on Summer, the town sweetheart. He even begged me to help him win her over. Heartbroken, I agreed. After delivering ninety-nine love letters on his behalf, Summer packed her bag and looked at me with pity. “This is pointless. Let’s run away together.” Seven years later, inside a 7-Eleven in LA, Caleb—now a Hollywood A-lister—cornered Summer. “Where is my wifey? “Where the hell did you hide my wifey?” 1. My heart was in my throat. Caleb Sterling, the biggest star in Hollywood, was sitting right behind me. If he looked up, he would see me. I gripped the stepladder, stealing a glance backward. Luckily, he was getting chewed out. His agent tapped the table, frustration evident in his voice. “Caleb, I’m begging you. Just take the role!” Caleb pushed the script away, his face cold. “I don’t do queer romance.” The agent sighed. “What’s wrong with the genre? It’s huge right now! Director Miller’s son is fighting for this role, and he doesn’t even have a shot!” Caleb scoffed. “Let him have it.” He took off his cap and mask, leaning back with that familiar, arrogant slouch. For a second, I was back in the vineyard. Eighteen-year-old Caleb stood before me, smiling that wicked smile, calling out, “Fisher.” The argument behind me continued. I shook my head, not wanting to hear anymore. As I climbed down the ladder, the agent went silent, leaving only Caleb’s icy voice: “I’m not into guys. Stop disgusting me.” My knees went weak. I almost slipped. So, that was still what he thought. I grabbed the ladder, ready to retreat to the stockroom, when my coworker walked in and shouted: “Hey Fisher! Shift change!” 2. The entire convenience store went dead silent. I didn’t hesitate. I ducked into the back room. Hopefully, he didn’t see me. Once my heart slowed down, I felt ridiculous. I was just a clerk at a gas station 7-Eleven. Why would he notice me? He was a star now. I felt a pang of jealousy. It had been seven years since Caleb and I parted ways. To say I hadn’t fantasized about a reunion would be a lie. But not anymore. First, I was a nobody. Second, when I left home, I took his childhood crush with me. To this day, Summer and I were still roommates. If Caleb knew that, he’d probably want to kill me. He was petty, vengeful, and held a grudge like no one else. I didn’t want to be tortured by him again. My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Fisher, did you stock the jalapeño sauce?” It was a text from Summer. My heart sank. Summer worked the front desk at the gym next door. She often came here for lunch. Before I could reply, I put on my mask and walked out. Caleb had sat up, his cap pulled low over his eyes. He didn’t seem interested in anyone else. I reached the counter. My coworker looked at me, surprised. “You okay? You look pale.” “Just a cold,” I lied, coughing fakey. Summer was waving a packet of jalapeño sauce at me from the condiment station. “Found it! Hubby!” “If you’re sick, go home and rest!” My coworker chuckled. “Fisher, you’re a lucky guy. Your girlfriend is pretty and sweet.” I waved my hand awkwardly and went to help Summer with her nachos. Summer had been the town beauty since we were kids. In LA, she was stunning. But beauty for a poor girl was a magnet for trouble. To avoid creeps, she used me as a shield. I was gay anyway. It didn’t bother me. I handed her the nachos. “Make another order,” my coworker said. “The customer in the seating area wants some.” She pointed to the back, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “The guy in the hat… he looks like that actor, Caleb Sterling!” “The guy ordering must be his agent. Even he looks classy.” Summer stood on her tiptoes, excited. “Tall and lean. He looks so gentle.” I almost dropped the jalapeños into the cheese. Gentle? Caleb? God, Summer, you really forgot your roots! Caleb Sterling was the vineyard’s resident tyrant. Joyriding tractors, stealing wine, skipping school. Because his family owned the biggest winery in the valley, no one dared to touch him. Whenever his grandfather, Old Man Sterling, caught wind of trouble, Caleb pinned it on me. Who asked me to be his unlucky sidekick? My parents worked for the Sterlings. We lived on their land. Ruining my reputation was a small price to pay for job security. Caleb never felt guilty. Instead, whenever he got hurt doing something stupid, I was the first person he called. He’d act pathetic, making me bandage him up and coax him to sleep. He hated mosquitoes, so he even stole my handmade lavender sachet. I sighed, my chest aching. “I’ve never seen a celebrity in real life,” Summer said, staring. My coworker winked and handed her the tray. “Here’s your chance to deliver it. You’re welcome!” I panicked. I wanted to stop her, but it was too late. Summer was already walking over, tray in hand. 3. “Summer…” I followed nervously. “Fisher, relax,” my coworker whispered. “It’s just a delivery. Don’t be jealous.” “It’s just nachos,” I muttered, closing my eyes. I stopped at the end of the aisle. Summer had delivered the food. Caleb, mask still on, didn’t look up. His attention was solely on the nachos. The agent rolled his eyes. “You skipped Director Miller’s dinner for gas station nachos?” “Yeah. Not illegal, is it?” Caleb chuckled and pulled down his mask to eat. He was paler than before. His features were refined, softer. He looked genuinely sophisticated. Nothing like the hoodlum from the vineyard. I stared. Summer stared. “Hey, miss,” the agent said. “Do you need something?” Summer snapped out of it, embarrassed. “Sorry.” She turned to leave, but Caleb grabbed her wrist. “Wait.” 4. He recognized us. Cold sweat trickled down my back. Before Caleb could speak, the agent hissed, “Don’t grab people like that.” Caleb ignored him, his grip tightening on Summer’s arm. “Since when does 7-Eleven serve nachos with this specific jalapeño blend?” He looked up, his eyes cold, staring straight at Summer. “Sorry, I… I must have grabbed the wrong sauce,” Summer stammered, face red. Seeing things go south, I grabbed the other tray of nachos and rushed over. “Sorry, folks.” I forced myself to walk up to the table. “She’s just helping out. She’s new.” Summer looked at me, tears welling up. “Hubby, I’m sorry.” “Am I going to get you fired?” Caleb froze. He let go of her hand instantly. I pulled Summer behind me, whispering that it was okay. “I told you not to grab people,” the agent sighed. “Sorry about that, man.” I nodded, just wanting to get Summer out of there. Summer played along, practically sprinting for the door. Just as I thought we were safe, a shadow loomed over me. Caleb had grabbed Summer again. His face was dark. “You have a husband?” Summer was confused but nodded firmly. Caleb went silent. A flicker of genuine sadness crossed his eyes. I looked down, my heart a mess. He recognized Summer instantly. After all these years, he still couldn’t forget her. But the next second, Caleb roared: “Then where is Fisher?” Summer looked at me guiltily, then feigned ignorance. “You’re hurting me!” “I don’t know who you’re talking about!” It was lunch rush. The store was filling up. The agent rushed over. “Caleb! What are you doing?!” “Let go of her!” Caleb ignored him. He didn’t seem to hear anything. “Where is my wifey?” “Where the hell did you take my wifey?!” 5. Someone in the crowd recognized him. “Whoa! That’s Caleb Sterling!” “What is he doing here?” “He looks way crazier in person!” Phones came out. Cameras were shoved in his face. The agent lost it. “No photos! No photos!” He covered Caleb’s mouth with one hand and dragged him toward the exit with the other. “It’s a misunderstanding! No rumors!” The crowd dispersed, leaving Summer and me standing in the wreckage. “Damn,” my coworker whispered. “Does Caleb really have a thing for your girl?” “Why did he call her his wife?” Summer rolled her eyes. “Because he’s insane.” “I’ll get some ice,” I said, looking at her red wrist. “He has a grip like a vice,” my coworker noted. After icing her wrist, I took Summer to a nearby clinic. We didn’t speak the whole way. At the clinic door, Summer stopped me. “Fisher,” she said. “I think the person Caleb likes… is you.”

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“What are you up to?” “Busy stuffing meat. Don’t have time for you.” The guy on the other end suddenly exploded: “Who are you with?! You are not allowed to stuff anything! Aaaah!” “Heh, once I’m done stuffing, we wait to eat. It’s gonna be so satisfying.” I didn’t expect the young master to hang up the phone. And drive two hundred miles to show up at my front door. He was panting. His eyes were dark and gloomy. Looking like he wanted to eat someone alive. At that moment, my Pops was patting my shoulder: “Careful now. In the past, I had to stuff all this myself. Having you help saves me so much energy.” “Hey? Isn’t this Hunter’s classmate? You here to join in?” The young master shattered on the spot. His voice trembled: “Your family… has this kind of custom?” I tried to close the door. “If you’re disgusted, you can leave.” He blocked it. “I didn’t say no!!!” 1. I went home for Thanksgiving break. It was sausage-making season again. Pops had just butchered the hog we raised out back. We planned to make extra this year, maybe sell some at the farmer’s market. When I picked up Sterling’s call, I was in the middle of tying off a casing. “What are you up to?” It was break. Why wouldn’t this rich boy leave me alone? I was a little annoyed, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear at an awkward angle. “Busy stuffing meat, don’t have time for you. Ouch—” The casing burst. I turned to Pops. “Don’t pack it so tight, it’s overflowing.” The person on the phone went silent for a few seconds. Then, he detonated: “Who are you with?! You are not allowed to stuff anything! Aaaaaah!” Sterling was always moody like this back at the dorms. We were all back at our own homes now; why did he care if other people were making sausages for the holidays? I took off my gloves. “Heh, once I’m done stuffing, we wait to eat. It’s gonna be so satisfying.” Sterling’s voice cracked, turning into a screech: “Hunter Doe!!! You are done!!” “You just wait!! You are absolutely done—” Then came a crash from his end. Like something expensive getting knocked over. Followed by a clutter of noise. “I want to see exactly how you’re stuffing—” Beep— Too loud. I hung up decisively. 2. I didn’t really like hanging out with Sterling. Mostly because he always bullied me at school. Maybe because I was from the sticks, and I was honest. These rich city boys with old money just loved to make fun of honest folks. Right when school started, I was in the cafeteria seriously slurping down some spicy venison chili. Yummy. Sterling frowned, dry heaving as he leaned in. “Are you eating literal garbage? Is that… what is that?” That look of disgust wasn’t fake. My heart sank. It’s over. Is he going to bully me? Yep. I guessed right. He snatched my lunch away and slammed his own bento box in front of me. “Let’s trade.” “My family’s private chef made this.” I didn’t dare resist. Adhering to the principle of ‘less trouble is better,’ I tremblingly opened the box. Inside was cold rice topped with raw, thinly sliced beef. He… he was humiliating me for being primitive! We country folks know how to use fire to cook food, okay?! I was weak. Tears circled in my eyes as I sullenly chewed the food. So raw. So slimy. So cold. I really couldn’t get used to it. Sterling looked satisfied, lifting his chin. “So good it made you cry, huh?” I sniffled, my eyes drifting back to my chili. I wanted it back. “I’ll help you finish this,” Sterling smiled, picking up a spoon of chili. “You usually… gag… eat this… gag… stuff?” He looked like he was making a life-or-death decision. Finally— Bleugh. He threw it all up into the bowl. I didn’t fare much better. I had diarrhea for two days from the raw meat. 3. I cried a lot back then. Because Sterling got worse and his mood swings were insane. Sometimes, he would lock me in his arms in front of our other roommates. Poking the dimples on my face. Pinching my cheeks. Making me look like some sort of pet. But then, if I bumped into him in the communal showers, he’d turn and walk away instantly. Like looking at me was bad luck. Even worse, despite having his own bed, he liked to squeeze into mine. I dared to be angry but not to speak. I always turned my back to him. Sulking quietly. It wasn’t easy getting to winter break. I couldn’t wait to cut off all contact with school. Then Sterling called and triggered my PTSD. After finishing the work at hand, I collapsed onto the sofa. The sun was warm. My eyelids grew heavy. Perfect time for a nap. Zzzzzz. 4. I don’t know how much time passed. A piercing screech of brakes came from outside the yard. Guests? I woke up in a daze. A black sports car, completely out of place on our muddy country road, was parked at my gate. The wheels were splattered with mud. The door was shoved open violently. Sterling stepped out, his hair messed up by the wind. He looked travel-worn. He was panting, eyes dark and gloomy. Looking like he wanted to murder someone. His gaze locked dead on me: “Hun-ter…” “I’ll show you satisfying—” He crossed the threshold in a few strides. Bringing a chill with him, he walked right up to me. He craned his neck, trying to look inside the house: “Where is the other guy?” Other guy? Mrs. Higgins from next door helped for a bit earlier. But— “The guest left a while ago.” What does that have to do with you? Just then, Pops slapped me on the shoulder, chuckling happily: “Finally done.” “Careful now. In the past, I had to stuff all this myself. Having you help saves me so much energy.” Pops finally noticed the extra person next to me. “Hey? Isn’t this Hunter’s classmate?” “You came at the perfect time. Want to join us?” Sterling froze. He seemed to shatter. His voice trembled: “Join… in?” “Your family… has this kind of custom?” I glanced at the rows of sausages hanging in the corner of the yard. What about the custom? It’s delicious! I tried to close the door. “If you’re disgusted, you can leave.” He turned sideways to block the door. “I didn’t say no!!!” Then, inexplicably, he blushed. Stammering: “I just… need a little time to accept it.” “You don’t need to trouble anyone else. I… I’m willing to help you.”

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I was too chicken to ask my advisor directly for my money. So, I decided to be passive-aggressive and drop a hint. I drafted a text: 【Mom, I’m not coming home for winter break. My living expenses are gone, my credit cards are maxed out, Boyfriend starved to death, and my stipend still hasn’t hit. Professor probably forgot again. I’ll just rot on campus.】 I hit send. My advisor replied instantly: 【?】 Panic set in. I scrambled to explain: 【Sorry Professor! Wrong person! Ignore that!】 Advisor: 【Your boyfriend died?】 Advisor: 【Understood. I’ll send you a boyfriend this afternoon.】 Me: ??? 1 They said the research stipend would hit at the start of the month. Winter break was practically here, and my bank account was still hearing crickets. I was spiraling. My advisor, Professor Miller, is a man in his sixties. Great mind, terrible memory. I could figure it out with my pinky toe: he definitely forgot to submit the paperwork to finance again. Usually, it wouldn’t matter. If he forgot one month, he’d double it up the next. But this was different. The semester was ending. That meant the finance office was about to close for the holidays. If I didn’t get paid now, I’d be waiting two months for that meager—but absolutely necessary—allowance. I couldn’t survive that. I was banking on that $1,200 to have a somewhat dignified winter break. I needed to remind him. Now. But I didn’t dare ask directly. Why? Because just yesterday, I sent him the first draft of my thesis. Immediately after hitting send, I shoved my phone into my roommate’s laundry pile and ran screaming laps around the dorm. I knew it was garbage. Sending it felt like knowingly throwing a bucket of sludge into his face. Sure enough, he replied: “Harper, shake your head and tell me if you hear the ocean. Because there’s clearly nothing else in there.” I didn’t get it at first, but I obeyed. Then I realized he was calling me an airhead. “Next time write more. The comedy section wasn’t long enough.” Me: “…” And just like that, the bridge was burned. “Sigh. I knew the day I accepted you as a grad student, I’d have to learn to let go of my expectations.” I looked up at the ceiling and smiled peacefully. If I could teach a tenured professor the art of letting go, maybe my thesis wasn’t completely worthless. Seconds later, his call came through. He roasted me until his wife yelled at him to cook dinner. He finally hung up with a war cry: “Harper! Just wait until next week’s group meeting!” So, yeah. After that dumpster fire, how could I ask him for money today? But after a fierce mental battle, I decided my dignity weighed less than my rent. Professor Miller might have beef with me, but I couldn’t have beef with my bank account. I couldn’t be direct. I had to be subtle. I was brainstorming “high EQ” ways to ask when my mom texted: “Honey, when does break start?” A lightbulb went off. I furiously typed a response meant for her, but “accidentally” sent it to him. 【Mom, I’m not coming home for winter break. My living expenses are gone, my credit cards are maxed out, Boyfriend starved to death, and my stipend still hasn’t hit. Professor probably forgot again. I’ll just rot on campus.】 Copy. Open Professor Miller’s chat. Paste. Before I could chicken out, I hit send. Then I rubbed my hands together, waiting like a gremlin for a reply. I had never looked forward to a text from him so much. One minute later. Professor Miller: 【?】 I reacted with lightning speed, “un-sending” nothing, just typing: “Omg sorry Professor! Wrong person! Please pretend you didn’t see that!” “I saw the whole thing.” Yes! I mentally high-fived myself. I could practically see that $1,200 riding a rainbow cloud to save my winter break. Genius. Harper, you are a debt-collecting prodigy! Then, the next text came through: “Your boyfriend died?” Me: ? “Understood. Boyfriend arrives this afternoon.” 2 I petrified instantly. What? Why are we focusing on the wrong details? And… Boyfriend died… was that really the takeaway here?! In that text, only “stipend hasn’t hit” and “Professor forgot” were facts. The rest was creative writing! He usually picks apart my thesis logic with laser precision; I refused to believe he didn’t get the hint! If he asks about the money, I get paid. But now he’s playing dumb? What was I supposed to do? AI chat bots were no help; they just told me to “communicate openly.” Useless. I lay on my dorm bed, disappointed and broke, punching the mattress in frustration. The more I thought about it, the madder I got. You want to play abstract games? Fine. I can get abstract. I grabbed my phone and replied: “Okay! Since Boyfriend died, I’ll happily accept the new boyfriend you’re sending. Hope I receive him this afternoon [Expectant Eyes] [Shy] [Rose] Thanks Prof~” Radio silence. Heh. Crazy old man. Out of moves, aren’t you? There was no way he was going to send me a human man instead of a wire transfer. I ate a massive bowl of pasta for lunch. Too many carbs. I slipped into a food coma. Wrapped in my duvet, I passed out. I slept until the sky turned dark. I wasn’t woken up by nature, or the smell of my roommate’s takeout. I was woken up by my phone vibrating off the nightstand. Professor Miller. I saw twenty missed calls. Thinking he had recharged his energy to roast my thesis again, I did some deep breathing exercises before answering. “Hello? Harper, where have you been? Why aren’t you picking up?” “Haha, sorry Professor, I was just revising…” “Revising what? That pile of trash needs a rewrite, but don’t touch it yet. Come to the Steakhouse just off campus.” “…” I thought he needed me to bring him a hard drive or something. I yawned. “The data drive is with Sarah.” “I know. Just bring yourself. Free steak, you coming or not?” I was confused. But when it comes to free food, I am an elite athlete. And if Miller is paying, we order the ribeye, not the salad. I had to eat back the value of the stipend he owed me! I threw on a puffer jacket, finger-combed my messy hair, shoved my glasses on my unwashed face, and stepped into my fleece-lined Crocs. I grabbed a campus scooter with a crooked handle and dodgy brakes and sped toward the restaurant. I looked a little feral, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t need to look hot for Professor Miller. Writing a good paper made him happier than me looking like a model. I understood this logic perfectly; I just couldn’t achieve either. I walked into the restaurant and heard his distinct, booming laugh. I followed the sound. My glasses fogged up from the heat inside. Through the blur, I realized it wasn’t just him. A table for four? Not a private room? Weird. Professor Miller waved me over, pointing to the seat across from him. I wiped my glasses and saw the person sitting next to him. Mrs. Miller. We’d been to their house for dinner before, so I knew her well. I pushed my glasses up and smiled sweetly. “Good evening, Mrs. Miller.” She looked thrilled to see me. “Harper! Long time no see. Sit, sit.” I sat down, looking at the two of them, scratching my head. I couldn’t help but ask: “Why the… sudden private dinner tonight?” I thought this was a lab gathering! Miller grunted, sipping his tea, clearly ignoring me. I kept a smile on my face, but internally, I was cursing him out. The only other person I knew who acted this high-and-mighty about academics was my ex-boyfriend. Even that little scoff was identical. I seriously suspected my advisor was my ex’s biological father. The old man ignored me, so I looked at the beautiful, gentle Mrs. Miller. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, someone sat down next to me. A faint scent of expensive body wash hit my nose. Freshly showered. Did he know we were eating steak? He was going to smell like grease in five minutes. Before I could turn to look at the new arrival, Mrs. Miller lifted her chin toward him and beamed. “There. That’s the boyfriend I promised you. Do you like him?” 3 I turned my head, curious. One second later, I snapped my head back forward. I covered my face with my hands and rubbed vigorously. Holy sht.* I must have slept too much this afternoon. I was hallucinating. I was hallucinating my ex-boyfriend. I needed to see an optometrist. The man spoke to Miller and Mrs. Miller across the table: “Mom, Dad, parking was a nightmare. Sorry I’m late.” Even the voice was the same?! I needed an ENT specialist too. But the heart rate monitor in my watch buzzied—I couldn’t lie to my own tachycardia. Sitting next to me was my ex-boyfriend, Ethan. Realizing this, I froze completely, hands still glued to my face. Mrs. Miller’s voice floated over: “Harper, Miller said he’d send you a boyfriend. In this family, we keep our promises. No scams.” “You texted back saying you were ‘expecting’ him, so I spent all day filtering through candidates. I think my son is a great match. You two seem destined. Take a look, are you satisfied?” I slowly peeled my hands off my face. No makeup. Ugly outfit. It had been three years; maybe he wouldn’t recognize me. Yeah. Let’s go with that delusion. The fact that I looked like a dumpster fire actually gave me a weird sort of courage. Mrs. Miller urged him: “Ethan, go on, introduce yourself to Harper. Get to know each other.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan turn his head toward me. I turned to look at him. He was wearing a black trench coat over a black turtleneck. It made him look taller, more mature. The handsome face was still there, but the boyishness was gone. He looked… expensive. His hair was styled with product. Honestly, he was dressed like he was going to a wedding. Did he know what he was here for? Ethan’s expression was cool, his eyes distant. He didn’t look like he recognized me. If he had, he probably would have flipped the table and left. He wouldn’t be this calm. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Finally, he spoke: “I’m Ethan.” I smiled, contorting my tongue to slur my words in a thick, fake accent. “Hi, I’m Har-pah.” “I’m 27 this year.” “18.” I was actually 25, but I felt like I had a “minus 7 years” coupon today. “Height 6’2″.” Me: ? How did he grow an inch in three years? I wasn’t having it. “I’m 5’11”!” I’m 5’6″. With shoes, 5’7″. With high hair volume, 5’8″. Round up? 5’11”. Math checks out. Professor Miller couldn’t take it anymore. “How many insoles did you eat to grow that tall? Stop lying! And no lying when you do your data analysis later!” Mrs. Miller punched his arm. “The kids are flirting, shut up old man!” Miller shut up instantly. Ethan continued: “Bachelor’s from Penn. Master’s and PhD from Germany.” Boring. Tell me something I don’t know. I started asking questions proactively. “Germany, huh? Wow. Did you fly there?” “No, I walked across the ocean.” “Do you speak English or German in class?” “We speak Klingon. Sometimes Dothraki.” “Do you love Daddy or Mommy more?” Ethan looked at me with dead eyes. Those were just warm-ups. The last question was the real one. I cleared my throat. “Did you finish your Master’s?” Ethan replied, “I finished my PhD.” “…” My fist clenched under the table. I wanted to knock him out. You know the saying: I don’t mind if my ex is doing badly, but I’ll die if he’s driving a Ferrari. Here I was, struggling with experiments, unable to squeeze out a thesis, crying into my pillow every night. And he breezed through a PhD? In Germany? I was practically vibrating with jealousy. Then, the jerk asked, “What about you?” When I encounter a difficult question, I choose silence. I ignored him and buried my face in my tea. I forgot it was freshly poured. It scalded my tongue. I wanted to spit it out but couldn’t be rude, so I held the boiling liquid in my mouth, tears forming in my eyes. Right then, a faint, mocking chuckle floated from beside me. I glared at him. Ethan’s smirk froze. He covered his mouth with his hand, but the schadenfreude in his eyes was undeniable. That look. If I kept pretending he didn’t recognize me, I was the clown. He knew exactly who I was. He was just playing along to watch me squirm. And now he was laughing at my pain! I was furious. If I had known this dinner was a setup with my ex—who I dumped, and who happened to be my advisor’s son—I wouldn’t have come. I would have preferred my Master’s degree to dissolve like bacon grease rather than sit here. 4 Amidst the anger, I felt a weird pang in my chest. Ethan was dressed up. He took this seriously. He was genuinely hoping to meet a nice girl. He wasn’t young anymore. Wanting a new relationship was normal. But even though we broke up ages ago, seeing him ready to move on… it hurt. He probably didn’t expect the “date” to be me. He was probably just as miserable as I was right now. I scooted my chair, putting distance between us. If you support me opening a fried chicken shop in the gap between us, press 1. Once I was sure I was as far away as possible, I looked up. His smile was gone. He was frowning, looking annoyed. See? I knew he was unhappy to see me. We both looked away, ignoring each other. The silence at our side of the table drew attention. Professor Miller and his wife stopped looking at the menu. Mrs. Miller broke the ice: “Hey, Harper. I was right next to Miller when you texted this afternoon. I saw you said your boyfriend died.” “I was so sorry to hear that… but hey, out with the old, in with the new, right? You have to look forward.” “My son is really a catch. If you don’t mind, get to know him.” Me: “…” Hearing this, Miller stopped glaring at me. His tone softened with sympathy. “I remember you said you started dating your first love in sophomore year. I haven’t seen him around the last two years. I assumed you broke up. Didn’t know he passed away. You should have said something. I wouldn’t have been so harsh on you lately.” AHHHHHHHHHH! My first love is sitting RIGHT THERE! Stop talking! Please, everyone, shut up! I couldn’t even imagine the expression on Ethan’s face. I was too embarrassed to look. Then Mrs. Miller added: “Ethan, why are you spacing out? Harper asked you so many questions. Don’t you have anything to ask her?” “Of course I do.” Ethan snapped out of it. He took a sip of tea, looked at me with a half-smile, and spoke slowly: “So, after we broke up, you just went around telling people I died?”

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I’ve always had an absurdly high sense of self-worth. When my stepmother tried to gaslight me, I took it as a compliment. When my stepsister flaunted her gifts, I accepted them as my due. Then my fiancé, desperate to climb the social ladder, came to break off our engagement. “Serena, I know I’m not worthy of you…” I nodded in agreement. “You do have a face for radio, after all.” He gritted his teeth, his jaw popping. “With your beauty, you deserve the most powerful man in the world.” I thought that made a lot of sense. So, at the Grand State Gala, I asked the ruthless, icy new King: “Would you like to make me your Queen?” He narrowed his eyes and smiled softly. “Sure.” 1. The New Year’s State Gala was approaching. My stepmother, Victoria, called my stepsister in to try on custom gowns. I happened to be nearby, feeding the koi in the atrium. My stepsister, Tiffany, smirked. “Serena, why don’t you come watch?” I knew she was up to no good with just one look. But I dumped the rest of the fish food into the pond, clapped the dust off my hands, and stood up. “All right. Let’s go.” This Gala was nominally to celebrate the New Year. But everyone in the capital’s high society knew the truth. King Adrian had been on the throne for over two years, yet the Royal Palace remained devoid of a Queen. There was only one consort, a high-maintenance Duchess. Many debutantes were aiming for the crown tonight. Tiffany was no exception. Victoria had ordered eight couture gowns for her. Every color imaginable. I had none. I just sat there, watching her model them. She tried them on one by one, agonizing between a pale mint green and a vibrant coral red. I sipped my tea, nibbled on a macaron, and said idly: “Your features are too delicate. The mint green washes you out. It makes you look plain. The coral red, however, brings out your complexion.” Tiffany listened and immediately switched to the coral red gown. She preened in front of the floor-to-length mirror for ages. Victoria slammed her hand on the table. “That’s the one!” Then, as if realizing who had spoken, they both glared at me in unison. “Serena, who asked for your opinion?!” I was toying with a diamond hairpin Tiffany had discarded. “Just making conversation.” Joke’s on them. I own forty percent of the shares in the boutique Victoria ordered from. But there was no need for them to know that. Tiffany wasn’t satisfied. Seeing the purple amethyst hairpin in my hand, she gave a fake smile. “I’m so loved by Mom and Dad that my jewelry box is overflowing. Unlike you, little sister. Dad doesn’t care about you, and your birth mom passed early. You have so few nice things; it’s honestly pathetic.” “Look at how much you like that pin. Are you going to shamelessly ask me to give it to you?” I nodded approvingly. “You really are generous, Tiffany. Since you insist, I’ll take it.” Tiffany froze. “I didn’t…” Victoria glared at her and pulled her daughter behind her back, stepping into the ring herself. “Serena, you’ve always loved flashy colors. Wearing this purple pin with a bright dress would be tacky. You should stick to…” I nodded again. “Mother is absolutely right.” “In that case, I’ll take that mint green dress Tiffany rejected. It matches my ‘tacky’ vibe perfectly.” 2. The mother-daughter duo was left speechless. They watched as I walked away with the couture gown and the amethyst pin. Before I closed the door, I heard Victoria muttering to herself: “That’s not right. I insulted her taste. Why isn’t she crying?” “Mrs. Vander said when she insulted her stepdaughter’s outfit, the girl cried in her room for a day!” Tiffany joined the post-game analysis. “Mom, maybe you shouldn’t have changed the wording? Should you have used Mrs. Vander’s exact insults?” “Sigh.” Victoria sighed heavily. “I just thought calling her a ‘tramp’ was too harsh. She is still a young lady…” Then, she suddenly glared at Tiffany. “And you! How many times? Every time I buy you jewelry, you let her hustle you out of it!” Tiffany pouted. “I didn’t know her skin was that thick!” They completed their one-hundred-and-twentieth reflection meeting. Determined to learn from their mistakes. Next time, they swore, they would successfully humiliate me. I went back to my room and put away the spoils of war. I cleaned up a bit and went out to meet my fiancé, Carter. He had sent a message two days ago. He said he wanted to see the holiday lights downtown with me before the Gala. This engagement was arranged by my birth mom before she died. She was sick and worried Victoria would mistreat me after she was gone. She gave me a family heirloom and gasped out: “I once saved that family’s patriarch. Their son… he’s brilliant. He will go into politics. At least there will be a man to protect you…” I wanted to tell her I didn’t need a man to protect me. But seeing her fading away, I couldn’t say it. My mom was gentle and timid. She always said I was nothing like her. In the end, she smiled with relief. “It’s fine. being like me isn’t a good thing anyway.” To let her pass in peace, I agreed to the engagement. But I didn’t expect this. After viewing the lights, we sat down in a high-end restaurant. And Carter immediately asked to break the engagement. 3. I raised an eyebrow, looking at the engagement contract in his hand. “Why?” “Our engagement is private. Only our parents know. Calling it off won’t hurt your reputation or stop you from marrying someone else later.” He sounded so self-righteous. But my contacts at the boutique had already spilled the tea. Carter had been seen shopping with another girl. She had admired a white jade bracelet. He didn’t have enough money on him, so he wrote a poem on the spot, sold it to a collector for a grand, and bought it for her. The girl was swooning. “I hear she’s Senator Zhou’s favorite granddaughter. Doesn’t care about money, just wants ‘talent and a true heart.’” I chuckled dryly. Such a precise target demographic. Carter must have worked hard to secure that connection. I found it hilarious. “Just say you’re social climbing. I’m not desperate to marry you.” Carter looked like he had been slapped with a supreme insult. But he swallowed his pride. “Serena, I know I’m not worthy of you…” I nodded. “I agree. You really are physically underwhelming.” Crack. Did he just shatter a molar? But Carter, priding himself on being an intellectual, couldn’t bring himself to curse at me. Instead, he went passive-aggressive. “With your beauty, you naturally deserve the best man in the world.” I looked thoughtful. “You mean the King? You want me to be Queen?” He turned pale. “I didn’t say that!” “Oh? So you’re implying the King isn’t the best man in the world?” I shook my head disapprovingly. “Carter. Watch your words. That sounds like treason.” Carter almost knelt. “I’m begging you, Serena! Loose lips sink ships. I have my bar exam next year. I have eight hundred dollars on me. Take it. Consider it damages.” Why didn’t he just lead with the money? I weighed the stack of cash and the check he handed over. I nodded. “I agree to the breakup. Tomorrow, I’ll have someone return your contract and your heirloom.” “Go climb your ladder. We are strangers now.” Carter suddenly looked disappointed. “Serena, don’t you have anything else to say to me?” “I do.” I saw his eyes light up with hope. “You’re paying for this dinner.” 4. On the day of the Gala, I wore the mint green gown Tiffany rejected. I wore the jewelry Victoria “gifted” me. I stepped into the limo. Mother and daughter sat across from me, glaring like angry pufferfish. I sipped my champagne. “Why are you staring? Mesmerized by my beauty?” Tiffany’s face went dark. “Serena, do you have no shame?” “I’m just speaking the truth.” “Even if it’s true, you shouldn’t brag.” Victoria lectured me. “As a lady, you should be modest and reserved.” “You’re right, Mother. I heard Tiffany prepared a piano solo for the King. Since we’re being modest and reserved, I assume she won’t be performing?” “…” Victoria choked. She pivoted instantly. “That’s old-fashioned thinking! The Prime Minister says modern women should be bright, brave, and confident.” I smiled again. “Mother is right. So, do you think I’m beautiful?” Victoria scrunched up her face, the words dragging out of her throat. “…Beautiful.” I was satisfied. I decided to stop teasing her for the day. The limo pulled up to the Palace gates. We entered the Grand Ballroom along with other high-ranking families. Mrs. Vander, Victoria’s frenemy, sidled up to her. “Such an important event, why did you bring the illegitimate one?” Victoria sighed. “She insisted.” Mrs. Vander gasped. “She insisted, so you just brought her?” “My husband is deployed at the border. Her birth mom is dead. If I didn’t bring her, she’d be alone in that big house for the holidays.” “It’s perfectly normal for the mistress’s kid to stay home alone!” Mrs. Vander shrieked. “Victoria, you come from old money, yet you let a bastard child walk all over you! I can’t be seen with you. We’re done!” She abandoned Victoria mercilessly and went to gossip with others. Abandoned by her bestie of twenty years. Victoria stood there, stunned. Her lip wobbled. She looked ready to cry. Just then. A hush fell over the room. “Her Grace, the Duchess!” announced the herald. The crowd bowed. A languid female voice floated through the air. “Interesting. Someone dares to wear the same embroidery pattern as me.” “Drag her out. Twenty lashes. Let it be a lesson.” The girl she pointed at was the illegitimate daughter of a minor official. She went pale. “Your Grace, mercy! This dress is… is…” She looked at her stepmother in disbelief. That woman didn’t look at her. She just quietly adjusted her own biological daughter’s cape. I looked at Victoria and Tiffany. They were huddled together like frightened quails. Their faces said: People can really hurt people like that?? The girl was sobbing in despair. Her forehead was bleeding from bowing so hard on the marble floor. The Duchess didn’t flinch. I knew the score. She had been the favorite for two years, aiming for the crown. But the King wouldn’t commit. She knew he might pick a Queen tonight. This was a power move. Killing the chicken to scare the monkeys. Seeing the guards approach to drag the girl away, I couldn’t help it. “Wait.” The room went dead silent. Tiffany tugged frantically on my dress, whispering, “Serena, are you crazy?” The Duchess’s sharp gaze flew to me. “What? You want to join her?” “Your Grace misunderstands. Miss Cen dressed this way out of admiration for you.” I curtsied gracefully. “She knows she cannot compare to your radiance. But legends say before you entered the court, you were a General’s daughter who rode a red horse through the capital. That image captivated every girl in the city.” “Everyone knows the King declared a general amnesty to celebrate the victory in the North. It is the holidays. Your Grace must not listen to those who wish to stir up trouble and spill blood in the Palace tonight!” The Duchess paused. Calming down, she realized she was being used as a weapon by others who wanted her to look cruel in front of the King. “Fine. No lashes. Go kneel at the garden entrance for two hours.” Miss Cen, having escaped torture, thanked her profusely. Her stepmother was promptly kicked out by the Duchess’s security. Finally, the Duchess looked at me. She sneered. “You have a sharp tongue.” “You go kneel with her.”

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When his best friend launched a high-end dating reality show and begged him to join, he rejected it instantly: “If you’re sick, go see a doctor. You want me on a dating show? Did you hit your head?” His friend nearly knelt down: “I just need one handsome, genuine billionaire to anchor the show. Help a brother out. Just join for a bit.” “How about I show you the female guests’ intro videos? Maybe one is your type.” The CEO was already impatient, waving for his assistant to drag his friend out. Then, her video played. The CEO froze for a few seconds, then suddenly changed his tune: “Actually… a dating show sounds interesting.” His friend, currently being dragged out by the assistant: ??? 1 Jason was stunned for a moment. Once he realized what happened, he shook off Liam’s assistant, tears welling up in his eyes as he rushed back to hug Liam tight. “Bro, I know you’re a busy man. Asking someone of your status to join a reality show is really pushing it.” “But this is the first project my dad gave me. You know I don’t want him to think I’m just a trust fund baby who only knows how to party. I want to prove myself.” “I won’t forget this favor. Don’t worry, you don’t need to interact with anyone. Just be yourself and help me boost the ratings.” Jason rambled on, moved by his own speech. Liam ignored him completely. His lazy, upturned eyes were glued to the screen, staring intently at my intro video. Jason was still immersed in the touching moment of brotherhood, burying his head on Liam’s shoulder and fake-sobbing. When my video ended, Liam pushed Jason away with disgust. He unhesitatingly pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the spot on his suit where Jason had touched. Liam Su, the youngest CEO of Su Pharmaceuticals. At only 23, he was a man who constantly dominated the headlines of financial news. An Ivy League graduate with a handsome, noble face that made hearts skip a beat. Given his status and position, agreeing to join a dating show was completely out of Jason’s expectations. Jason even thought that even if he knelt on the spot, Liam wouldn’t give him the time of day. With his calm and serious personality, participating in a frivolous dating show was absolutely absurd. Jason came to beg him just to try his luck; he never expected him to actually agree. Just in case, before begging Liam, Jason had also asked another wealthy friend for help—Chase. Chase was different from Liam’s striking, superior appearance. He had the classic “bad boy with a heart of gold” look, a flamboyant personality, and had just returned from studying in the UK. The three of them grew up together. Jason knew Chase had a thing for the “Ice Queen” type—girls who looked cold but were cute deep down—so he specifically invited me. My participation in this show was purely accidental. I wasn’t a celebrity, influencer, or model. I was a tarot card reader. That day, Jason was scouting for “ordinary people” cast members. He passed by my booth and suddenly stopped, sticking to me like gum for days, insisting I join the show. I was so annoyed that I casually said: “I’ll do it for fifty thousand bucks.” I intended to make an unreasonable demand to drive him away, but I didn’t expect him to agree instantly. To capture the genuine reaction of the guests meeting for the first time, our pre-recorded intro videos were supposed to be confidential. But Jason broke the rules and showed mine to Liam. Jason showed it to Liam because he was truly desperate. He knew Liam would definitely refuse. Plus, having known Liam for so many years, he had never seen him get close to any woman. He even once suspected Liam wasn’t interested in women at all. Showing him the videos was a last-ditch effort. Regarding Liam, there had always been a rumor in their circle. It was said that when he was in Thailand, he passionately pursued a Chinese-American girl. But that girl dumped him. Since then, he hadn’t dated anyone. Jason scoffed at this rumor, considering it pure fabrication. He’d sooner believe in aliens than believe the iceberg known as Liam Su would actively chase someone, let alone get dumped. Jason was also stirring the pot; after Liam agreed to participate, he immediately leaked the news to a wealthy heiress who had always had a crush on Liam. On the way to the recording location, I was actually quite nervous. I grew up in Thailand and had only recently returned to the States. Before leaving, I did a tarot reading for myself. The cards showed a high probability of reuniting with an ex, while simultaneously meeting a younger guy who would fall for me at first sight. The spread was complicated, radiating a strong “drama” vibe. However, I thought I probably misread the cards. My ex had quite the status; given his identity, it was absolutely impossible for him to participate in an entertainment reality show. Unless his brain was broken. 2 The show I was on was called Heartbeat Island. Five men and five women sent to a deserted island, phones confiscated, living together for ten days. Truly unscripted, completely live-streamed. I was Female Guest #1, and the first to arrive at the waiting area. Female Guest #2 was a cool, elegant professional model. Female Guest #3 was a bubbly, well-known influencer. Female Guest #4 was a shy, introverted manga artist. Female Guest #5 was a glamorous, wealthy heiress. After the female guests arrived, the male guests made their entrance. Male Guest #1 was a cute “puppy dog” type influencer. Male Guest #2 looked honest and reliable, a chef who owned a restaurant—after all, every dating show needs a cook. Male Guest #3 was tall and fit, a professional model. When Male Guest #4 appeared, the originally quiet waiting area instantly buzzed, and several female guests’ eyes lit up. He was a tall, handsome guy, 6’2″, with a face full of youthful energy. When he smiled, he had faint dimples. But he wasn’t the “soft” type; he had healthy tan skin and a sexy build. His voice was magnetic, creating a huge contrast that made people blush. “Hi everyone, I’m Chase.” The female guests stared at him shyly. The livestream comments exploded the moment he appeared: [Oh my god, so handsome!!!] [Where did the production team find this treasure? He could debut as an idol right now.] [Wait, did you guys notice? Everyone else’s profession is public, why is his confidential?] The comments were curious, observing his expressions closely. They wanted to know what type he liked and which female guest he would sit next to. 3 [I bet he’ll sit next to #2. This kind of wild guy loves a cool older sister type.] [Me too, I’m already shipping him and #2.] [Seriously though, Female Guest #1 next to #2 has been cold-faced since the beginning. She looks distracted, no expression for anyone. Like everyone owes her money!] [Right? She looks so innocent and cute, why the cold face? Look how happy #2 is smiling.] [Upstairs, I actually like #1. I dig that ‘Ice Queen’ vibe.] [Me too. If she doesn’t want to smile, she doesn’t have to. Does she have to fake a grin?] I joined this show purely to rot and earn that fifty thousand appearance fee. I had no intention of dating. So I stayed silent the whole time, acting like an invisible person. The chaos in the venue and the livestream comments had nothing to do with me. While I was bored picking at my fingers, the camera suddenly focused on me. I looked up, confused. Chase was standing in front of me before I knew it. “Hi,” he looked at me, the tips of his ears slightly red, faint dimples showing on his handsome tan face. “Can I sit next to you?” Before I could respond, the production team’s broadcast suddenly sounded. The mysterious Male Guest #5, who was originally scheduled to appear on the third day, was announced to be arriving early. Hearing this news, the glamorously dressed Female Guest #5, the heiress, stood up excitedly. She declared to everyone: “I’m here for Male Guest #5.” Her meaning was clear; she left no room for retreat, directly announcing her crush. The comments praised her: [#5 is so brave. Doing this blocks her own retreat, other guys won’t dare pursue her.] [I’m really curious, who exactly is Male Guest #5?] [Curious +1. Even before the show aired, the official account kept hyping him up without even a silhouette. Can’t guess who it is.] [Based on the official hype, #5 must be a big shot. Maybe a famous celebrity?] Because of the heavy promotion, Male Guest #5 was already mysterious and a hot topic. Before filming even started, the netizens’ attention was almost entirely focused on him. Everyone wanted to know who he was. And now, the wealthy heiress #5 declared she was only here for him. This pushed the anticipation for Male Guest #5 to the peak. Everyone turned their heads, looking curiously toward the entrance. 4 The lights at the entrance suddenly brightened. A tall, upright figure walked out. The man wore a high-end black shirt, cuffs casually rolled up to his forearms, a low-key but luxurious limited-edition watch on his wrist. His stride exuded a natural aura of nobility. When the man reached the front of the stage, the breathing in the waiting area almost stopped in unison. “Is that… Liam Su?” The model, Female Guest #2, covered her mouth, her voice trembling. “Omg, he’s my idol!” The comments exploded directly. Screens full of shock and disbelief: [It’s actually the Crown Prince of Su Pharmaceuticals, Liam Su.] [Someone who only appears in financial news deigned to join an entertainment dating show?] His appearance also aroused suspicion: [Is this show scripted?] [Even if it’s scripted, this production team has some serious connections to get him!] [No wonder Female Guest #5 said she’s only here for him. A top-tier man like this, who wouldn’t swoon?] Liam’s lazy, upturned eyes swept across the room casually. His gaze passed over the stunned and admiring looks of the female guests without pausing, landing straight on me. The moment I looked up and met Liam’s eyes. My heart trembled.

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There was a little wild spider in my apartment. After a brief stare-down, it dropped a coin and ran away. That night, a black, fuzzy little spider visited me in my dreams, acting incredibly cowardly. “…Hi there. The money is for you. Could you please, please not destroy the web I weave?” It added in a trembling voice: “Also… also, please don’t poke my butt anymore. I’m scared!” “I know living in a human’s house means paying rent. I will work hard to earn money and pay my share.” The little spider peeked out with just a sliver of its eyes. I looked down, staring at it. After a long while, I squeezed out a sentence. “Wait a minute… you look kind of familiar.” 1 It happened a second time. Another coin appeared on my vanity. And my vanity, which was a bit messy last night, had been tidied up. Everything was neatly organized. But this time. I caught the culprit red-handed. “A… spider?” The little spider, who was dragging the heavy coin with its back to me, froze. It slowly turned its head. Those oOOo eyes were filled with disbelief at seeing me awake. We stared at each other. The little spider got so scared its eight legs puffed out. It looked like a frightened kitten with its fur standing on end. It dropped the coin and ran. It scurried half a meter in a flash and vanished in the blink of an eye. I stood in silence, walked out of the room without a word. Then walked back in. “Maybe I organized the desk myself before bed last night and just forgot.” I comforted myself with a blank expression. I pretended not to see the extra coin. Then I grabbed my bag and scrambled out the door to go to work. Not because I was scared, but because if I didn’t leave now, I’d lose my perfect attendance bonus! That evening. I came home exhausted from work, not wanting to think about the bizarre event from the morning. But I still took a shower using sage and rosemary soap, just in case. I stared at the spotless ceiling for a while. Eventually. I confirmed that the cobwebs in the corner had been swept away. So I spoke to the air, “I don’t know if you’re a spider or a ghost controlling a spider, but thanks.” “The ceiling corners are very clean. It’s much nicer to look at.” Silence. I didn’t expect an answer anyway. But then, I heard a voice as faint as a mosquito from the corner: “…You’re welcome.” Me: “…” Ideally polite, for a bug. 2 That night, I dreamed. A fuzzy black spider with a tint of purple stood anxiously before me, keeping a meter’s distance. “I’m sorry to communicate with you this way, but I really have no other choice.” The little spider covered its face with two front legs, pleading cowardly. “…Hi there. The money is for you. Could you please not destroy the web I weave anymore?” It added, trembling: “Also… also, please don’t poke my butt anymore. I’m scared!” “I know living in a human’s house means paying rent. I will work hard to earn money and pay my share.” Actually, the spider didn’t cover its face completely; it peeked out with a sliver of its eyes. I looked down, staring at it. After a long while. I squeezed out a sentence. “Wait a minute… you look kind of familiar.” My gaze uncontrollably landed on the spider’s fuzzy, oval, solid butt. I’ve seen it somewhere. I suddenly recalled, realizing with a start. “You’re that spider on the balcony corner who weaves webs meticulously but makes them look terrible!” The little spider stiffened. The fear of being molested returned. It ran away crying, “Pervert—” 3 The little spider arrived a week ago. When I found it, it was struggling to pull back the web it had just woven, like a human rushing to take clothes off the line when it rains. I didn’t notice it at the time and almost slapped it into the afterlife. Of course. I’m not a pervert. I was just spacing out after watering the plants on the balcony, and then I saw the fuzzy little spider weaving silently in the corner. Its butt was too distracting; the spinnerets at the back moved so fast. Like I was possessed. I found a disposable glove and poked it. Unlike other ordinary house spiders, this one was deep black with a purple hue, had faint stripes on the edge of its abdomen, and was extra fuzzy. Spiders that appear in homes are generally non-venomous, or if they are, it’s very weak. So I wasn’t afraid of getting bitten. The fuzzy spider butt was indeed plump and solid. I stared at my fingertip, unable to resist rubbing it. “Just as I thought, heavy, a bit soft, feels great.” “…Truly the kitten of the spider world.” The little spider probably experienced this for the first time. It turned around stiffly, looking like it was about to fight me for touching it again. “Uh, sorry?” Just now, did it glare at me? “…” The spider walked away, moving its legs in a clumsy, synchronized panic, swallowing its anger. 4 We lived in peace for a week. Occasionally, I’d get curious and poke a hole in its web, and the little spider wouldn’t get mad. It would just wait for me to leave, then silently wiggle its butt to repair the web. “Ew… so sticky.” The little spider blinked its oOOo dorky eyes and turned around at the sound. Its gaze landed on my fingertip, where there was… a piece of the web it had just woven, now broken. I did it again. I withdrew my hand sheepishly, a bit embarrassed. The spider didn’t run away. Instead, it frantically stuck its butt out at me, waving its little legs. I hesitated. “Do you want me to touch it? Okay.” So I reached out. “!!” The little spider covered its butt in horror and zoomed away. I thought it wanted me to touch it. But looking back, that wasn’t the case. I waved my hands frantically, “I’m not a pervert.” The honest little spider cried and accused me. It hid far away from me, sobbing quietly. “Don’t say that word.” It seemed even less able to handle the word ‘pervert’ than I was, breaking down: “You touched me… and you say you’re not a pervert!” “I clearly warned you.” I was confused, “Did you?” The spider was exasperated by my cluelessness. It tapped out from the corner and repeated its previous action. “Are you blind?” The spider choked back tears, “This is my attack stance. I was warning you.” “When spiders are scared, they stick their butts up to look bigger and scare off enemies.” “But… but you didn’t say a word and just touched me!” “And you destroyed my web. I can’t even get full.” “If this goes on, I might starve to death.” The spider whimpered, totally breaking down. Turns out I misunderstood. I thought the spider was offering its butt for me to poke. “Sorry, I didn’t know.” I apologized honestly to the spider, promising not to break its hard-woven web again, and promised compensation. The spider sniffled, asking in a hoarse voice: “Really?” I hummed a yes. “Next time I’ll use the electric fly swatter to zap some mosquitoes for you, throw them on your web, give you a deluxe feast.” The spider wiped its tears while choking up. Then it said I was a good person. “Turns out prison isn’t that hard to endure. You’re not at all as scary as the Warden said.” Me: “?”

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As the heir to the Sterling empire, Asher Sterling had been engaged to me since we were children. Because of my status as his fiancée, I controlled every aspect of his life. Every time I tightened the leash, Asher would glare at me with pure hatred and spit out, “Blaire Thorne, just you wait. One day I’m going to cancel this bullshit engagement.” Then, I accidentally found out I was a “fake heiress”—switched at birth. I decided to keep my head down. I stopped asking about Asher’s whereabouts. I stopped forcing him to fulfill his “fiancé duties.” After half a month of silence, his frat brothers threw a massive party to celebrate his freedom. But instead of celebrating, Asher had a mental breakdown on the spot. “Who told you to stop watching me? Who gave you permission?” “Are you happy now? She’s actually gone to find some other dog.” 1 “Blaire, Asher is out with Carter and that crew again. Getting wasted.” In the dimly lit lounge, the bass of the club music thumped against the walls. My best friend, Harper, was showing me a video on her phone, but my mind was elsewhere. I took the phone. On the screen, Asher was wearing a flashy crimson dress shirt, unbuttoned low. He was leaning against a limited-edition McLaren, a cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers, looking bored and dangerous. He was surrounded by a group of trust fund babies, each with a scantily clad model on their arm. I watched it calmly, then handed the phone back to Harper. “It’s fine. Let him be.” “Are you okay?” Harper pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “No fever.” “Are you an imposter? Who are you and what have you done with the real Blaire Thorne?” “Harper,” I shot her a look. “Do I need to bring up the embarrassing story from your sixth birthday to prove it’s me?” I grabbed my bag and stood up. “I’m heading out.” I couldn’t blame Harper for being shocked. Since I was eight, I had been Asher’s shadow, managing his life with an iron fist. Before, I had the right to control him. Now… I wasn’t so sure. Because soon, I wouldn’t be Asher Sterling’s fiancée anymore. 2 Three days ago, I found out I wasn’t my parents’ biological daughter. I was switched at birth. It wouldn’t be long before the Thorne family’s real daughter was found. The fate of a “fake heiress” in our social circle was predictable. I had offended plenty of people over the years, using my status as the Thorne princess and the future Mrs. Sterling. Half of Manhattan was waiting for me to fall from grace. Especially Asher. Since we turned eighteen, I had enforced three strict rules on him: No smoking, no binge drinking, no fighting, and no hanging out with his loser friends. No staying out overnight. Home by midnight. Fulfill the obligations of a fiancé—intimacy at least three times a week. Every time he chafed under my rules, he’d threaten to dump me. I never took it seriously. But now, things were different. Old money marriages were about mergers and acquisitions. Even if Grandfather Sterling liked me, he wouldn’t let his grandson marry a woman with zero leverage. This engagement was doomed. To prevent Asher from kicking me while I was down later, I decided to cut my losses. I would stop controlling him immediately. 3 I didn’t go find Asher. I went straight to our shared penthouse. But the moment I walked in, Asher followed. Hearing the door click, I instinctively looked up. Our eyes met. Asher looked almost guilty for a second, trying to dodge my gaze, but then he locked eyes with me defiantly. He lifted his chin, his voice unnecessarily loud. “Blaire, that’s right. I went out with Carter and the guys today. I smoked, and I drank.” I didn’t argue like I usually would. I just gave a soft “Hmm,” and turned to go to my room. “Blaire—” Asher crossed the room in three long strides and grabbed my wrist. His obsidian eyes bore into mine, a flicker of anxiety beneath the surface. “Did you hear me? I said I smoked and drank.” “I know,” I said, my voice flat. “You don’t need to report to me. As long as you’re happy.” “Cut the crap, Blaire.” The corner of his mouth ticked up in a smug smirk. “I know you’re still mad.” “Because I didn’t take you to the gala last time? Or because I haven’t come home in three days?” “No, I haven’t…” He cut me off. “You can’t pretend you don’t care tonight.” Asher started unbuttoning his shirt. He had a swimmer’s build—broad shoulders, tapered waist, defined abs. He was undeniably hot. He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his stomach. Then he looked away, the tips of his ears turning a faint pink. “I’m letting you off easy. You can touch whatever you want tonight.” I glanced at the calendar. Right. It was one of our “scheduled” nights. Usually, I had to remind him. Tonight, he was weirdly proactive. “Asher, I’m not in the mood.” I pulled my hand away and bolted into my room, locking the door behind me. 4 I woke up around noon the next day. Asher was shockingly still home. He was sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with exaggerated nonchalance. When I walked out, he coughed, put the phone down, and spoke in a bored tone. “Blaire, didn’t you say your wardrobe was getting stale? I have time today. I’ll drive you to Fifth Avenue.” “No thanks, I’m meeting Harper.” I rejected him without thinking. “Seriously, Blaire? How long are you going to keep this up?” Asher stormed over and seized my wrist again, his brows knitted together. “I’m giving you an out here. Are you planning to snitch on me to my grandfather again?” So that was it. He was worried about the old man. “Don’t worry,” I waved my hand dismissively. “I won’t. I realized I was too controlling before.” “The three rules are void. From now on, do whatever you want. I won’t interfere.” “Really.” I held up three fingers. “I swear.” “Blaire, you…” Asher looked at me in disbelief, his eyes glistening with sudden, inexplicable rage. His chest heaved. Finally, he turned his face away, his jaw tight. “Fine. Suit yourself.” He slammed the door so hard on his way out that the walls shook. What was his problem? I met Harper at a cafe and told her about the identity switch. Harper stared at me for a long time. “So… you think the engagement is over, so you’re preemptively quiet quitting the relationship?” “Yeah.” “But have you considered that Asher might actually have feelings for you? He might not want to break up.” “Asher hates me,” I laughed bitterly. “Just last week, he told everyone he couldn’t stand me.”

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