When Colin lost his memory, he thought I was a grifter. He tossed a black card at me and told me to get lost. Clutching the card and staring at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test I’d just taken, I happily ran for it. I had money, a baby on the way, and I didn’t have to deal with that perpetually stone-faced man. Life was looking pretty sweet. But my joy was short-lived. A few days later, I was at the supermarket picking up prenatal formula when I bumped right into Colin. Once, twice, three times… The more we ran into each other, the stranger his gaze became, like he was looking at some kind of exotic creature. I was terrified he’d remember everything, so I started thinking about moving to the next city to hide. But then I looked up and saw him take a deep breath and march right toward me. It was the first time he’d spoken to me since losing his memory: “Why does your husband always make you shop alone?” “Raising a child is hard work. You can’t be doing it without support.” “What I’m trying to say is… I have feelings for you.” “If you don’t mind, what if I helped you raise the baby?” 1 I was the woman Colin kept by his side. I was decent-looking, had a mild temper, and we were compatible in bed. So, despite his reputation for being immune to women, he did something that shocked everyone—he kept me around for two years. People whispered that he must have developed real feelings for me. Then he had an accident. And the only thing he forgot was me. That bastard, Colin. Was he faking amnesia just to get out of giving me a severance package? I was muttering to myself when his assistant, Davis, called to explain Colin’s new arrangements for me. He was trying so hard to be diplomatic. “Ms. Audrey, since his memory loss, Mr. Colin feels that his previous arrangement with you was… inappropriate. He says he has no memory of you and has no desire to see you again. So, I’m very sorry, but you’ll need to move out of the Cloudcrest Manor property in the next couple of days.” Cloudcrest Manor was where Colin had set me up. It was where we had slept together for two years. After all that time, it had started to feel like my home. I had filled it with all my favorite stuffed animals, and the balcony was covered in pots of cherry tomatoes I loved to eat. Hearing I had to move out stung a little. But it was his house, his money. I nodded glumly, already bracing myself to leave with nothing. But then Davis’s tone shifted. “Mr. Colin isn’t unreasonable,” he continued. “He was told you were with him for two years, and he believes that even if there was no great merit, you certainly put in the time. So, he’s wired you a sum of money and is gifting you an apartment in the city center. The only condition is that you never bother him again…” Just as he finished, a notification lit up my phone. A bank transfer. The string of zeros made my head spin. That little sting of sadness vanished instantly. My mind exploded with fireworks. A grin spread across my face as I rushed to assure Davis, “Don’t you worry, I’ll be out in two days. No, I’ll be out today! I will never, ever get near your boss again.” This was a jackpot. I had money and a baby with some top-tier genes cooking in my belly. Best of all, I no longer had to service a man with the nocturnal stamina of a marathon runner. Heh, this was better than winning the lottery. 2 That’s right, I was pregnant. I had always wanted a child. When I first found out, I tried to subtly bring it up with Colin. “Do you like kids?” Without a second’s thought, he said, “No. They’re a hassle.” He glanced at me, his brow furrowed. “Are you thinking you want one?” His expression was so severe, it felt like if I dared to say yes, he’d throw me out on the spot. How could I possibly tell him I was already pregnant? I shook my head frantically, my voice firm. “No, no, I hate kids! Besides, given our… arrangement, a baby is out of the question.” We had no official status. I thought my statement was perfectly reasonable. But for some reason, Colin completely lost it. “What kind of ‘arrangement’ are we talking about?” he snarled. “Is the idea of having my child that repulsive to you?” His reading comprehension skills were truly something else. I could only roll my eyes behind his back. And of course, the damn man settled the argument by throwing me back into bed. Luckily, the baby was a fighter. It survived a whole night of its father going at it like a man with inexhaustible energy. That only strengthened my resolve to keep it. So, when the amnesiac Colin told me to get lost, you can bet I was more than happy to take the money and run. 3 I contacted Davis that same day to handle the deed transfer and moved into my new apartment that very night. My blissful life of prenatal nesting began. My days were filled with leisurely walks, cooking, and taking on a few freelance design projects. My evenings were for watching dramas, listening to music, and shamelessly liking and commenting on photos of handsome men online. I never had this kind of freedom when I was Colin’s kept woman. He’d once warned me that if I ever dared to like another man’s photo, I’d have to “work” double time to make it up to him. As handsome and skilled as he was, and as much as I enjoyed it, my back just couldn’t handle that frequency. Back then, I had to scroll through my feed in secret, and liking a post was unthinkable. But now? Now I could scroll through hundreds of handsome faces a day, my thumb aching from all the liking. Financially secure and mentally liberated, life was good. The happy days flew by, and soon, it was time for my first prenatal check-up. The thought of finally seeing my little one filled my heart with a sweet warmth. I was so caught up in the excitement that I completely missed the faint whisper of unease in the back of my mind. 4 I never dreamed I’d run into Colin at the city hospital. The lobby was bustling, but I spotted him instantly. His head was wrapped in gauze, and he was wearing a standard blue-and-white striped hospital gown. The injury had forced them to shave his normally sharp haircut into a buzz cut. It didn’t detract from his looks at all; in fact, it made his features look even more striking and defined. When his gaze swept in my direction, I quickly ducked my head. I could feel his stare burning the top of my scalp and started cursing internally. He was a rich and powerful man. After an accident, he should have been in a private luxury clinic, or at the very least a top-tier public hospital. What was he doing in this perfectly average city hospital? As I was silently fuming, the intense gaze finally moved away. I cautiously looked up, but Colin’s back had already disappeared into the crowd. I patted my chest and let out a long sigh of relief. It’s fine, it’s fine. He has amnesia. He’s completely forgotten me. Even if he saw me, he wouldn’t recognize me. To him, I’m just a stranger. Reassuring myself, I made my way to the obstetrics department. 5 It was 2025, and the obstetrics waiting room wasn’t overly crowded. Getting a number and waiting to be called was a smooth process. The check-up went well, too. When the doctor handed me the ultrasound photo and told me the baby was perfectly healthy, a wave of nervous excitement washed over me. Ever since my family passed away, this was the first time I had a true blood connection. This was my anchor in the world, a little life I had created. Even though it wasn’t born yet, I couldn’t help but love it, couldn’t imagine not keeping it. I held the ultrasound print, wondering how to best preserve it. This was the baby’s very first picture. I had to get it laminated, maybe pick out a nice frame… “Oof!” Someone rushing past me didn’t see me, and we collided. I stumbled, nearly losing my balance, when a strong arm suddenly wrapped around my waist, steadying me before releasing just as quickly. Once I was stable, I saw the ultrasound photo had fallen to the floor. I instinctively touched my belly. The person who bumped into me tossed a careless “sorry” over their shoulder and kept running. I muttered a curse under my breath, bent down to pick up the photo, and blew the dust off. I looked up, wanting to thank the person who had helped me. But he was staring down at the ultrasound in my hand. When I saw that familiar face, the words caught in my throat. Strong brows, sharp eyes, a high-bridged nose… The man who had just steadied me, who had saved my baby from a potential fall, was Colin? My jaw dropped. The “thank you” was stuck, refusing to come out. Colin studied me for a few seconds, his eyes flickering from my face to the ultrasound photo. His normally icy expression had become as cold as a polar glacier. It sent a shiver down my spine. I was terrified he’d suddenly remember something, drag me off to terminate the pregnancy, or worse, pull some stunt where he’d keep the baby and I’d never see it again. The more I thought, the more I panicked. My brain short-circuited, and I blurted out, “The baby isn’t yours.” The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to die. Colin had amnesia! This was practically a confession! I forced a strained smile and quickly tried to backtrack. “Haha, just kidding. Hey, handsome, thank you so much. My husband wasn’t around, and you really helped me out. I don’t know how I would’ve explained it to him. Our family’s been waiting for this baby for so long…” The more I babbled, the darker Colin’s face became. Finally, he must have gotten sick of hearing about my fictional family, because without another word, he turned and stalked away. God, that was terrifying. I absolutely had to switch hospitals for the next check-up. Watching his retreating back, my mind was made up. 6 After that day, I spent a few anxious days at home. But aside from a call from Davis asking if I still wanted the giant stuffed rabbit from my old bedroom, there was no word from Colin. I finally relaxed and slowly fell back into my peaceful, baby-nurturing routine. Soon, it was time for my second check-up. This time, I chose the most famous top-tier hospital in the city. As I casually walked toward the entrance, I thought to myself: there’s no way he could be this unlucky. Colin couldn’t have transferred from the city hospital to this one too, right? As it turned out, my luck was exactly that bad. 7 Seeing Colin in the hospital lobby, not far from me, I completely froze. Colin had an uncanny sense of awareness. He immediately looked in my direction, a slight frown creasing his brow. He was probably wondering why I had suddenly shown up at this hospital. After all, pregnant women don’t usually switch doctors mid-term. What kind of rotten coincidence was this? If I had known he was here, I never would have come. He stared for so long that I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see him. I raised a hand in a small wave. “Hey, handsome. Fancy seeing you here. Back for a follow-up?” The amnesiac Colin was incredibly rude. He shot me a cold glare, turned, and walked away as if I were a complete stranger. When I was his woman, if we ran into each other in public, he’d always come over, stroke my hair, give me a kiss. Now… tsk. I made a face at his back and quickly slipped away to the obstetrics department. The check-up went smoothly again, and I got the baby’s second picture. In my eyes, my baby was the cutest thing in the world. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I found a chair and sat down, completely absorbed, when suddenly, with a soft thud, someone collapsed right in front of me as if they were trying to scam me. I jumped to my feet in fright. “Sir, are you okay?” I knelt down and struggled to turn him over so he wouldn’t suffocate. And then, I found myself face-to-face with Colin. I was speechless. How could I run into him everywhere? But seeing the fresh bruise on his temple, I couldn’t just leave him there. I took a deep breath, called for help, and with the help of a nurse, we got him to the emergency room. After slipping out of the ER, I made a firm decision: next time, I was switching hospitals again. If I ran into him another time, I would seriously start to question my sanity. I hadn’t even reached the main entrance when I saw someone I shouldn’t have. In the middle of the lobby, my eyes met Davis’s. Remembering my promise, I quickly held up two fingers and swore, “I swear, I have no intention of pursuing your boss. I just came in for a cold. I’m absolutely not here to stalk him.” Davis was silent for a long moment before saying, a little mournfully, “Mr. Colin’s visit to the hospital today was a last-minute arrangement. I know you’re not that kind of person.” He paused, his expression complicated. “But… thank you for helping Mr. Colin just now.” I breathed a sigh of relief and waved it off. “It was nothing. This is a hospital. If it wasn’t me, someone else would have helped.” I was terrible at small talk and said my goodbyes, ready to leave. But Davis suddenly called out from behind me, his voice hesitant. “Ms. Audrey, maybe you should go see Mr. Colin? He doesn’t remember you, maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in person enough. Perhaps if he sees you again, he’ll remember.” Uh, no thanks. We’d already run into each other several times. It was useless. He had truly forgotten me. Besides, I was pregnant. I didn’t dare hang around him. What if his memory returned and he decided he didn’t want the baby? I wouldn’t even have time to cry. I quickly refused. “No.” I gathered my thoughts and tried to advise him earnestly. “Davis, your boss specifically said he doesn’t want me around. How can you, for the sake of our minor acquaintance, go against his wishes?” So, whatever you do, don’t mention me to Colin.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389305”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At my own engagement party. The new designer my fiancé’s company had just hired took a pair of scissors to my gown and cut it to ribbons. “Your neck is too short for a high collar.” “And your proportions are all wrong for this conservative cut. A hemline two inches below the hips would be much more suitable.” She held the scissors, a defiant smirk playing on her lips. “Ms. Preston, Mr. Bernstein assured me when he hired me that I would have the freedom to create anytime, anywhere. Consider this my wedding gift to you.” The crowd fell silent, stunned. My fiancé, Richard, rushed to my side, his voice placating. “She’s just a prodigy I scouted from design school. She’s young, Olivia. Don’t take it personally.” Seeing the protective glint in his eyes, I let out a bitter laugh. “Fine. This gown was designed personally by Catherine. It was custom-made for me and is valued at three hundred thousand dollars. Since you’ve destroyed it, you can be the one to pay for it.” Richard started to speak, but I cut him off before he could utter a word. “And by the way,” I said, my voice clear and cold. “The engagement? It’s off.” 1 “Pfft.” Ava, the designer, let out a derisive snort from the side, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Seriously, Richard? Your fiancée really knows how to make a mountain out of a molehill. It’s just a dress. Why the huge drama?” A flicker of irritation crossed Richard’s face, and his tone hardened. “Olivia, stop it. Ava’s design talent is praised by some of the most respected names in the industry. Giving her creative freedom is an investment in our company’s future. If you keep this up, I’m going to get angry.” He paused, then turned to Ava, his voice softening. “Ava, Olivia is a bit more… traditional. She doesn’t understand your creative process. Why don’t you apologize to her, and we can put this behind us.” Ava shrugged, hands spread in a gesture of mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I mean, I obviously did nothing wrong. Art is blameless, right? But since the boss is asking…” She plastered on a fake, saccharine smile and drew out her words with deliberate slowness. “Sooorry, princess. I guess I shouldn’t have failed to appreciate your… outdated—oh, I mean, traditional—approach to design. Are we happy now?” My face was a mask of fury, but Richard seemed satisfied with this resolution. “There. Now, Olivia, go change. The guests are waiting.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Richard, that was the most insincere apology I’ve ever heard, and you expect me to just let it go?” “Don’t push it,” he hissed, grabbing my arm. His grip was tight, a silent command to back down. I refused to move. He pulled harder, practically dragging me. I never thought he would treat me like this. My high heel twisted, and I stumbled, collapsing onto the floor in a heap. Riiip— The already tattered hem of my gown ripped completely, and the neckline was yanked askew, exposing a wide swath of my shoulder and collarbone. A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers. Richard froze for a second, then quickly shrugged off his suit jacket, intending to cover me. But then Ava let out a delicate little “hiss,” her voice high and sharp. “Achoo! Richard, is the air conditioning on too high in here? I’m freezing.” Richard’s hand, reaching for me, stopped mid-air. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned and draped the jacket over Ava’s shoulders, even taking a moment to carefully pull the lapels together. “You should have said something sooner if you were cold,” he chided her gently. It wasn’t anger in his voice. It was annoyance that she hadn’t told him what she needed, and even more, annoyance at himself for not noticing. I had always believed that I was the only one who received that kind of special, focused affection from him. Apparently, I was wrong. His love was cheap. My throat suddenly felt too dry to speak. “I’m not that delicate,” Ava said, snuggling into his jacket with a sweet, triumphant smile. She tilted her head back like a spoiled child. “Richard, you said you’d introduce me to Mr. Alistair today. Is that true?” Richard’s face softened into a doting smile. “Of course. Do you think I could have gotten him to come if it wasn’t for our engagement party?” So that was it. Mr. Alistair, a titan of the design world, a man nearly impossible to meet. Richard had moved mountains, using his status as my “future son-in-law,” just to get the old master to make an appearance. The engagement party I had been so excited for, the one I had planned for months, was nothing more than a career launchpad for Miss Ava. Of course. Everyone knew Olivia Preston was a sweet, pliable pushover. A few comforting words and I’d swallow any humiliation. What was a little hurt feelings in the grand scheme of things? Richard patted Ava’s back. “I’ll take you over in a minute. With my introduction, I’m sure he’ll offer you some guidance.” They started to walk toward the center of the ballroom. “Richard.” I called his name. He turned back, the tenderness on his face not yet faded. When his eyes landed on me, it twisted into a flicker of impatience. “What is it now? You’re a grown woman, do you need me to help you up? Get up and change. Don’t just sit there on the floor, it’s pathetic.” Hearing his words, I slowly pushed myself up from the ground. Then, I raised my left hand and pulled the diamond ring off my finger. The ring he had designed himself, the one he had chosen just for me. I placed it back in the palm of his hand. “The engagement,” I said, my voice steady, “is over.” 2 Richard stared at me for a few seconds, a look of weary frustration on his face. “What’s gotten into you today? You’re not usually like this.” He casually slipped the ring into his pocket and reached out, as he had countless times before, to pinch my cheek. “Olivia, I know you’re the most understanding person in the world. Stop acting like a child.” He lowered his voice, trying to coax me. “All our guests are here. Don’t make this difficult for me. Ava is incredibly talented, you’ve seen her work. It’s brilliant. Our goal is to make her the next Catherine. This is my business, my future. Just support me in this, okay?” The next Catherine? By shredding a gown handmade for me by Catherine herself? That’s how she was going to start her “path to stardom”? I looked at his handsome, familiar face, and my heart turned to ice. He said it all so matter-of-factly. My humiliation, my pain, meant nothing to him. Or perhaps, on his scales of importance, my feelings had always been lighter than dust. I’d just never had a reason to weigh them before. I was trembling with rage, about to refuse, when Ava’s sharp, indignant voice cut in. “Hey! Princess!” She stepped up beside Richard, her chin held high. “I already apologized! What more do you want? You rich girls are the absolute worst! It’s just a dress. I’ll pay you back. Do you have to be so relentless and embarrass your fiancé in front of everyone?” I gave her a cold stare. “Three hundred thousand dollars. How do you plan on paying for that?” She sputtered, “That’s extortion! You get some kind of sick pleasure out of bullying a recent graduate with big dreams, don’t you? You’re so out of touch with reality.” After her tirade, Ava turned to Richard, her voice dripping with undisguised grievance and entitlement. “Richard! If I had known your fiancée was this impossible, I never would have taken the job! The line of people wanting to hire me could stretch from my school all the way to Paris! I feel so suffocated here!” Her small frame was swallowed by his large suit jacket, her thick, curly hair framing a face with eyes now red and brimming with defiant tears. Richard immediately began to soothe her. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I didn’t handle it well. Don’t be angry. Didn’t you say you wanted to try the signature Beef Wellington at that revolving restaurant? I’ll take you tonight to make it up to you, how about that?” As he spoke, he pulled out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen. A moment later, my own phone buzzed. A bank notification: an incoming transfer of $300,000. The memo read: “Gown Compensation.” Only after he had done all this did Richard look at me again, the last trace of warmth in his eyes completely gone. “The money’s been transferred. I paid for it. Are you satisfied now? You’ve made your scene, you should have blown off enough steam. Ava and I need to go say hello to Mr. Alistair. Don’t keep the guests waiting.” He lifted his hand, as if to put it on my shoulder, but paused mid-air and let it drop. His gaze then shifted back to Ava, his tone softening once more. “Let’s go.” Ava let out a small, triumphant huff from her nose, clutching the suit jacket tighter as she turned to leave with Richard. As she passed me, she deliberately bumped my shoulder. It wasn’t a light tap. Caught off guard in my high heels, I stumbled back a step before catching my balance. I clenched my fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms they felt like they might touch bone. The sharp pain was the only thing that kept me from screaming. I could hear Ava’s plaintive voice drifting back from the hallway. “Richard.” “Your fiancée is such a tyrant. Is it because she’s a rich heiress? I can handle her bullying me, but I’m worried she’ll treat you this way in the future.” Richard tilted his head, his voice low as he said something to her. I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew they were meant to reassure her, to take her side. Then, I saw Ava look up at him, her smile radiant and blinding. From the corner of her eye, she shot a look in my direction—a final, victorious glance. I slowly unclenched my fists. Fine. Just fine. I pulled my phone from my purse, my own expressionless face reflected on the dark screen. “Mr. Alistair.” “Olivia, my dear! How is your father? I was just about to leave for your engagement party. I was hoping to see him as well.” “Mr. Alistair, the engagement party has been… postponed. There’s been an incident.” I gripped the phone tighter. “And there’s something else. A small favor I’d like to ask.” “Oh? Go on.” “Tonight, Richard Bernstein will be introducing someone to you…” 3 Even Richard would have found it hard to believe. That I, Olivia Preston, would be so vindictive toward some up-and-coming ingenue. Mr. Alistair’s critique at the party that night utterly humiliated Ava. The story spread through our entire social circle like wildfire. “This is nothing but a pastiche of imitation. You can’t even articulate the theme of your own work.” “Your fundamentals are abysmal. A child making clothes for a doll shows better stitchwork than this.” “Are you deliberately trying to insult my intelligence?” These comments, embellished by the gossips in attendance, became the season’s hottest joke. Richard’s grand “star-making” project, along with several key deals he was about to close, evaporated overnight. He was in a panic. He knew I was behind it. I was waiting for him to come and confront me. But the next afternoon, he showed up at my door, holding a limited-edition gift box from a top-tier jewelry brand, a placating smile on his face. I stared at him coldly for a long moment. “Come in.” He placed the box on the coffee table and opened it. Inside lay a diamond necklace, glittering under the light. “I was wrong yesterday. I let you down. This is for you, to apologize.” I sat on the sofa, not even glancing at the necklace. I just looked at him. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then sighed and sat down beside me. He tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away. He didn’t seem annoyed, just started talking. “Olivia, why do you have to go after a young girl like that? You could ruin her.” A scornful smile touched my lips. I asked him, point-blank, with no room for evasion. “This special attention you’re giving Ava… is it really just about admiring her talent? You graduated from Parsons, Richard. I don’t believe for a second you can’t see the truth.” His expression shifted. “Olivia, have you lost your trust in me? She’s seven years younger than me. I see her as a kid.” “Yesterday was a huge blow to Ava. She’s young, and talented people have their pride. I’m worried a fall like this will be too much for her to handle.” He watched my face, his voice growing more earnest. “So, I was thinking… could we borrow your family’s art gallery on the Riverside? I want to organize a solo exhibition for her as soon as possible. I’ll cover all the costs, for the venue, the setup, everything.” I finally looked up at him. The sunlight caught his face, still as handsome as the day I fell for him. But the Richard I loved would never defend someone else at my expense. And he certainly wouldn’t have such filthy thoughts about a ‘kid.’ “Richard, she ruined my engagement party. She publicly humiliated me and destroyed my gown. And now you’re asking me to use my family’s gallery, my family’s name, to host an exhibition for her? To prop her up?” The smile on his face faded. “Olivia, it was a misunderstanding. Ava apologized, and I compensated you. The important thing now is to solve the problem. Are you really going to stand by and watch a promising young talent be destroyed by rumors? That’s not good for the company, or for my career.” “Can’t you just be the bigger person and help me out this one time? We’re going to be family, sooner or later.” “Family?” I almost laughed out loud. Before I could speak, the living room door burst open. Ava stormed in. Her eyes were red and swollen, tear tracks staining her cheeks, her hair a mess. She didn’t even look at me, marching straight to Richard. “Richard! I’ve had enough!” “I’ve been winning awards my whole life! My professors called me a once-in-a-decade genius! I have never been so humiliated! Everyone is treating me like a joke! Do you have any idea what they’re saying about me behind my back?!” Richard stood up immediately, trying to calm her. “Ava, don’t get worked up, I’m trying to find a solution…” Ava violently shook off his hand, fresh tears rolling down her face. “What solution?! Richard, I’m telling you, even if you offer me a fortune, I don’t want to stay here anymore! You people make me sick!” She pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes filled with venom, before turning back to him. “Don’t ever come looking for me again! I’m not good enough for you!” With that, she covered her face and ran out, sobbing, her retreat a picture of finality. “Ava!” Richard’s face contorted in panic. Without a second thought, he started to chase after her. “Richard.” I stopped him, my nails digging into my palms. He turned back. His face was a mask of urgency and impatience, his eyes holding a ferocity I had never seen before. My voice was quiet, even. This was his last chance. “If you walk out that door, we are really, truly over.” He stood there, staring at me for a few seconds, and then a cold, disappointed sneer twisted his lips. “You know what, Olivia? She has never once cried in front of me.” “Do you have any idea what a disgusting thing you’ve done?” “This exhibition is happening. Whether you agree to it or not.” He strode out after her. The living room fell silent. Slowly, I sank back into the sofa. I opened my hand. The pain in my palm seemed to spread, reaching all the way to my heart. 4 Ava’s fashion exhibition went ahead as scheduled. Because I allowed it. Richard, thinking he had won, ended our cold war and came to see me, even bringing Ava along. “Olivia, thank you for being so understanding. You’ll see, Ava is going to be a sensation. This will blow over all those earlier misunderstandings.” I sat in the large armchair in my study and gave them a detached glance. Understanding? I scoffed internally, my face remaining a placid mask. Ava presented a beautifully wrapped gift box to me with both hands. “Ms. Preston, I really want to thank you for generously lending us the gallery. This is a thank-you gift I designed especially for you. I hope you like it.” Inside the box was an exquisite gown. I looked at it, then lifted my eyes to meet Ava’s. “Miss Ava,” I said. “Since you designed this gown especially for me, you must have forgotten that I’m allergic to fiber blends. Are you careless, or did you choose this material on purpose?” The smile on Ava’s face froze. Richard frowned. “Ava was being thoughtful, designing a gown just for you. Why must you always assume the worst in people? An allergy? What a convenient excuse. You just have a prejudice against her!” Perhaps. A prejudice against stupidity and malice. I had worn the mask of a sweet, gentle woman for so long, they had actually started to believe I was the naive, easygoing heiress they could push around. I picked up the gown and, with a casual tug, ripped the fabric. The embellishments scattered across the floor. Then I tossed the ruined dress into the wastebasket in the corner. “I don’t need it,” I said. Ava’s eyes welled with tears. “You’re horrible!” Richard’s expression turned thunderous. But I never imagined he would actually raise a hand to me. I didn’t even see it coming. All I felt was a searing pain across my left cheek. My ears rang. The force of the slap sent me stumbling sideways. My cheek immediately began to swell. “Olivia! You’ve gone too far!” he roared. “The Prestons might have been rich and powerful once, but after your mother died and your father got sick, what’s left of your family?! Even if you were still that same heiress, you have no right to trample on someone’s kindness and dignity!” I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand and tasted blood. “Richard, tell me, who is bullying whom here?” He ignored me, his chest heaving with rage. “To teach you a lesson, our engagement is postponed. Indefinitely! Until you learn what respect and an apology are!” He didn’t look at me again, grabbing Ava’s arm. “Ava, let’s go. There’s no point talking to someone this unreasonable.” The stinging in my cheek was a constant throb. I stood motionless in the silent room long after they had gone. As darkness fell, my phone screen lit up in the dim room. A new message from an anonymous number. An encrypted video file. I opened it. The footage was blurry but clear enough. A hotel room, clothes strewn on the floor, two entangled figures. It was Richard. And Ava. I watched it to the end, then turned off the screen. People who aren’t worth loving, along with their pathetic little affairs, deserve to rot in the ground together. In the days that followed, Richard threw all his resources behind Ava’s debut show. Subway light boxes, jumbo screens in commercial districts, trending topics online… ads for “design genius Ava” and her “subversive, brilliant vision” were everywhere. Ava’s social media was a constant stream of bragging. On the day of the exhibition, the Riverside Arts District was buzzing. The entrance to Ava’s gallery was flanked by congratulatory flower arrangements. She and Richard stood proudly at the door, giving interviews. And right across the street, a gallery that had been closed for renovations for weeks was finally unveiled. I stood at the entrance of the building, a structure that dwarfed Ava’s gallery, and looked up at the large letters on the facade. A slow smile spread across my face. CATHERINE: RETROSPECTION & REBIRTH · WORLD TOUR PREMIERE

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In my last life, I refused to grant a divorce, and for that, Evelyn hated me to her core. I always thought if I just waited until the children were a little older, she might come back to me. But all I got was the news of her flying to another country with our three daughters to throw a lavish beach wedding for him, for Adrian Thorne. It was a global sensation. I chased after them, demanding an explanation, only to be hit by a car. She and our three daughters stood on that beach, their eyes devoid of any emotion as they watched me die. As my consciousness faded, I heard our daughters clapping. “This is great! Now Uncle Adrian can be our dad!” At my funeral, my youngest son, Leo, cried his heart out. People tried to comfort Evelyn. “What’s he crying for? If your father had just agreed to the divorce sooner, none of this would have happened. He brought this on himself!” Later, Leo missed me so much he fell ill. He didn’t last long. It was only then that I understood. What I had been fighting for wasn’t a family. It was a joke. So this time, I have only one goal: to take Leo and disappear, to let them have their perfect little family. 1. “Wyatt, you say you’ll agree to a divorce, but you insist on taking that sickly child, Leo. Do you really expect me to believe you?” Evelyn held a pen, her eyes filled with suspicion. She must have thought I was playing the same old game, using our son to trap her. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I just pushed the divorce papers closer to her. “Believe it or not, just sign it.” She stared at me for a long, hard moment before finally leaning down to sign. She slammed the pen onto the paper with a sharp crack. “You’d better mean it.” I didn’t spare her another glance. I turned and walked out. Back in my room, I called my mother in England. “Mom, Evelyn and I are getting a divorce. As soon as it’s official, I’m bringing Leo to you.” “Daddy?” The door creaked open. Leo stood there, clutching a stuffed tiger, his soft voice full of anticipation. “When is the birthday party going to start?” I knelt and ruffled his hair, my voice instantly softening. “Soon, sweetie. Daddy will take you down right now.” Seven years ago, Evelyn had given birth to quadruplets: three daughters, Rose, Lily, and Daisy, and our son, Leo. Today was their seventh birthday. I had just picked up their presents and was rounding the corner when the conversation from the study stopped me in my tracks. “Evelyn, are you really divorcing him for me?” Adrian’s voice was thick with emotion. “Rose and the girls are so lovely. I can’t bear the thought of him taking any of them. And he loves you so much… what if he changes his mind?” “He wouldn’t dare,” Evelyn’s voice was cold as steel. “If he doesn’t sign, we’ll just go abroad and have the wedding anyway. He’ll never see the children again.” “Uncle Adrian, don’t cry,” Lily chimed in. “I’m not going with the bad daddy!” “Me neither!” Rose added. Daisy was even more excited. “Can we be the flower girls at your and Mommy’s wedding abroad?” My nails dug into my palms, the pain a dull throb. Even though I’d already witnessed their betrayal in my past life, hearing it again still felt like a punch to the gut. I took a deep breath and stepped out from around the corner, my face a cold mask. “The party is about to start.” Adrian looked startled and quickly tried to excuse himself. “Mr. Hayes, I know I’m not welcome. I’ll leave now.” As he passed me, he suddenly stumbled, grabbing my arm and pulling me down the stairs with him. “Ah—!” My back slammed against the steps, a sharp, agonizing pain shooting up my spine. I saw Evelyn and the girls rush over. Their hands were reaching for me, but when they heard Adrian’s pained grunt, they changed direction, swarming around him instead. They helped him up and rushed him out the door, the three girls trailing behind. Not a single one of them looked back at me. Only Leo, my sweet Leo, stumbled over to me, his small body collapsing beside mine as he cried, “Daddy, wake up! Leo’s scared…” 2. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. For three days, not a single call from Evelyn or the girls. Only Leo came, every day, right on time, feeding me porridge with a small spoon, his little voice asking, “Daddy, does it hurt today?” One evening, the door was ajar, and I overheard the nurses chatting. “That Miss Evelyn in the VIP ward is so devoted to Mr. Thorne. She’s with him day and night, even makes him soup herself.” “I heard that when she was in that car accident years ago, he was the one who saved her life, gave her a massive blood transfusion. No wonder she’s so attentive!” My eyes flew open. I was the one who had pulled Evelyn from the wreckage of that car. I was the one who had given her a thousand milliliters of my own blood, nearly passing out in the process. How had Adrian taken credit for that? I closed my eyes, forcing down the surge of emotion. It didn’t matter. In this life, I was leaving. There was no point in fighting over the past. The day I was discharged, I passed the VIP ward. Through the crack in the door, I saw Evelyn, tenderly feeding chicken soup to Adrian. The love in her eyes was so thick you could drown in it. My three daughters were there too: one massaging his back, another reading him a story, the third feeding him fruit. “Evelyn, Mr. Hayes was hurt much worse than I was. Shouldn’t you go check on him?” Adrian said, his voice dripping with false sincerity, his eyes gleaming with triumph. Evelyn didn’t even pause. “He brought it on himself. Who told him to trip you? Let him think about what he’s done.” “Exactly!” Rose chimed in, frowning. “He’s always hovering around us and Mom. It’s so annoying!” Lily pouted. “We have maids, but he always insists on doing everything himself. He’s just a glutton for punishment.” Daisy added, “Uncle Adrian is handsome and a famous designer. He’s so much better than Daddy.” I stood outside the door, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles turned white. All these years, I had worked myself to the bone for them, and this is what they thought of me. A nuisance. I really did need to reflect. Reflect on how I could have been so blind as to give my heart to such a pack of ungrateful wolves. 3. The moment I got home, I took Leo straight to the largest shopping mall in the city. In my past life, Evelyn always said it was “inconvenient to take a son out,” yet she took the girls horseback riding every week. I owed Leo so much. In this life, I would make it up to him, a hundred times over. I bought him a new casual blue outfit and styled his hair. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes curving into crescents as he smiled. “Daddy, I look like a little prince!” “You are a little prince, Leo.” I pinched his cheek. “Come on, Daddy’s taking you horseback riding.” We had just arrived at the stables when we ran into Evelyn and her entourage. Adrian was leading a chestnut mare, with Evelyn perched on its back. The three girls clustered around, a chorus of concern, terrified she might fall. When Evelyn saw me, her gaze faltered. It swept over me, from my hair to my shoes, then quickly darted away. Her expression hardened. “We’re getting a divorce. What are you doing following us here?” She paused, then added, “And don’t think for a second that dressing up like this will change my mind.” I pulled a startled Leo into my arms, patting his back comfortingly. “Who’s following you?” I replied coldly. “I’m taking my son riding. It’s a coincidence.” With that, I took Leo to get changed, not bothering to look at them again. But Evelyn’s eyes were like hooks, constantly snagging on me. Even when Adrian spoke to her, she was distracted. In my last life, they had played me for a fool, trapping me in the gilded cage of our family, making me their workhorse until I had nothing left to give, not even my life. This time, I was living for myself. This was just the beginning. An attendant soon brought out my horse, Frost. She was a purebred Arabian, a gift from my father before he passed. He’d had her imported specially for me. She was snow-white and spirited, and aside from me and her groom, she wouldn’t let anyone else near her. When Adrian saw Frost, his eyes lit up. “What a beautiful horse! I wish I had one like this.” Without waiting for me to stop him, he reached out to stroke her neck. “Hee-yee!” Frost reared up, her nostrils flaring in a warning snort of hot air. Adrian yelped and threw his arms around Evelyn for protection. “Take this crazy animal to the slaughterhouse!” Evelyn’s eyes flashed with anger as she screamed at the stable hands. “You dare!” I spun around, my eyes blazing, the hand gripping my riding crop trembling. “That was the last thing my father gave me! If you want to touch her, you’ll have to go through me first!” 4. The air crackled with tension. Evelyn stared at me, her expression unreadable. Adrian tightened his hold on her, his voice a soft, placating murmur. “Evelyn, let it go. I’m not hurt… Don’t let this ruin your relationship with your husband.” “Husband?” Evelyn scoffed, her gaze turning even colder. “He’s not worthy of the title.” But despite her words, the hand she had raised to wave away the stable hands slowly dropped to her side. The girls immediately surrounded me, their small fists clenched. “It’s all your horse’s fault! You scared Uncle Adrian!” I looked at their indignant faces and felt a wave of absurdity wash over me. I had raised these children from birth, and now they were siding with an outsider against me. “Daddy, can we not ride today?” Leo tugged at my sleeve, his voice a small plea. “Let the groom take Frost back. I’m scared she’ll get angry again.” My heart ached at his thoughtfulness. I looked at my daughters, at the suspicion and calculation in their eyes, and it chilled me more than Evelyn’s cold indifference. I started to lead Frost back to the stables, but Adrian suddenly blocked my path. “Mr. Hayes, I need to have a word with you.” I sent Leo back to the lounge. The moment Evelyn and the girls were out of earshot, getting water, the gentle mask slipped from Adrian’s face, replaced by an arrogant sneer. “I want this horse. Name your price.” “Not for sale.” “Don’t be a fool.” His expression darkened. He pulled a steel needle from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers. “You think Evelyn really cares about you? She defended me because I know how to play the game.” “Be smart and give me the horse. Otherwise, I’ll make her have it butchered. And then I’ll show her how you ‘accidentally’ hurt me.” My blood ran cold. Before I could react, while I was distracted, he lunged forward and plunged the needle deep into Frost’s side. “Hee-yee!” Frost shrieked in pain and went wild. “Ah!” Adrian was kicked by the horse and crumpled to the ground, screaming. Just as Frost was about to trample him, I vaulted onto her back without a second thought, grabbing the reins. “Frost, calm down!” “Wyatt, are you insane?!” Evelyn’s shriek cut through the chaos. She was charging toward us, a riding crop in her hand, which she brought down hard on the horse’s flank. “Are you trying to kill Adrian?!” The blow was vicious. Frost, already in a frenzy, completely lost control, bucking and kicking wildly. I was nearly thrown off, clinging to the reins for dear life. I saw a flicker of fear in Evelyn’s eyes as she watched me struggle to stay on, but it vanished the moment she heard Adrian’s cry of pain. Thankfully, the stable hands rushed in, managing to rope Frost and inject her with a tranquilizer. With a thud, she collapsed, foam frothing at her mouth, her body convulsing. I tumbled off her back. As I staggered to my feet, I heard Adrian sobbing to Evelyn. “Evelyn, don’t blame Mr. Hayes… He’s just so jealous of me. I don’t blame him…” With that, his head lolled to the side, and he passed out. Evelyn checked his breathing and let out a sigh of relief, but her anger quickly returned. She cradled Adrian in her arms and glared at me. “Adrian is still defending you, even in this state, and this is how you repay him? You have no decency!” “Guards! Take him to the confinement room! No one is to let him out without my order!” 5. Before she could finish, a commotion erupted from the direction of the pony stables. I looked over, and my face went pale. Rose, Lily, and Daisy, each on a small pony, were galloping toward me, screaming, “Daddy! Help us!” Their faces were masks of terror, their bodies swaying precariously on the ponies’ backs. It was a terrifying sight. My heart seized. I acted on pure instinct, sprinting toward them. They were my children, the ones I had raised. Even after their betrayal, I couldn’t just stand by. But as they got closer, I saw it. A flicker of triumph in their eyes. The smirk of a successful scheme. I tried to turn, but it was too late. Crack— Rose’s pony reached me first, its hoof slamming into my chest. A sharp, explosive pain, the sound of bone breaking. I was thrown into the air, landing hard on the grass. Before I could even catch my breath, Lily and Daisy’s ponies were on me, their hooves trampling my body again and again. I lay on the ground, blood pouring from my mouth, staining the grass beneath me red. My vision blurred, and the sounds around me grew distant. Through the haze, I heard Evelyn’s voice, a note of panic in it. “You’ve gone too far! No matter what, Wyatt is still your father…” Adrian immediately cut her off, his voice soft. “They’re just children, Evelyn. What do they know?” “I know you were just trying to stand up for me,” he said to the girls. “But what if you had gotten hurt? That would have really broken my heart.” “We just couldn’t stand him bullying you!” Rose’s voice was filled with a venom far beyond her years. “If we didn’t teach him a lesson, we would have felt sick!” “Uncle Adrian, we planned this all along,” Lily said, her tone just as cold. “It’s too much trouble dealing with him every day. It’s better if he’s seriously injured and in the hospital. At least then he’ll be out of the way and we’ll have some peace and quiet.” Daisy added, “And we heard you talking to Mommy. We three are from your and Mommy’s embryos that were put in her tummy. Only Leo is Daddy’s real son! We’re a family with you and Mommy!” My mind went blank, a roaring in my ears. No wonder Evelyn had suddenly suggested IVF when we were perfectly healthy. No wonder only Leo was the outcast. No wonder the girls were so cruel to me, and so attached to Adrian. So Leo and I were the outsiders in our own home. I tried to get up, to confront them, but every inch of my body screamed in protest. I couldn’t move a finger. The hatred in my heart and the pain in my body twisted together, tearing me apart. Then, everything went black. 6. I don’t know how long I was out. I woke up to a world of pain. I was wrapped in bandages from head to toe, a mummy in a hospital bed. The agony was a stark reminder that what had happened was real. The three daughters I had raised with love and care were not my own. Adrian walked in, dressed in a sharp, expensive suit. He was a jarring contrast to my bandaged form. “Tsk, tsk. You’re a tough one, aren’t you? Still alive after all that.” He circled my bed, his voice dripping with scorn. “The doctor says you might be paralyzed from the waist down. You may never walk again. What do you think Evelyn will think of me now, when she sees you like this?” I closed my eyes, refusing to acknowledge him. “You don’t know, do you?” he leaned in closer, his cologne making me sick. “While you’ve been unconscious these past few days, Evelyn has been by my side, day and night. Your three precious daughters have been telling me stories, feeding me my meals. They’re much more devoted to me than they ever were to their ‘daddy’.” He chuckled, poking my arm. “Oh, and by the way, that horse of yours, Frost? You’ll never see her again. Evelyn heard I’d never had horse meat, so she had it butchered on the spot. It was delicious. A shame you missed out.” My eyes snapped open. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I shoved him with all my might. “Ah!” He stumbled back, his hip crashing into a chair. He yelped in pain. “You cripple! How dare you touch me?!” He scrambled up and lunged at my bed, his foot aimed at my legs. “I’m going to kill you today!” “Stop!” Evelyn burst into the room just in time to see Adrian about to kick me. “What are you doing?!” she shrieked. Adrian’s foot froze mid-air. He immediately covered his face, his voice cracking as he feigned innocence. “I… I was just trying to help Mr. Hayes get a drink of water. He thought I was going to push him, so he hit me…” Perhaps the excuse was too flimsy, because for once, Evelyn was silent. I kept my mouth shut. Under the covers, my hand clutched a note my assistant had slipped me that morning. It contained the information I’d asked for, about a doctor, an old master of traditional medicine I had read about in my past life. A man who could supposedly cure illnesses Western medicine had given up on. Evelyn didn’t press the issue. She just said, “Let’s go,” and turned to leave. 7. Over the next two weeks, Evelyn only appeared twice. The first time, she came in with a thermos, a flicker of apology in her eyes. “I had the cook make you some pigeon soup.” I turned my head away. She set the soup down and left after a few minutes of silence. As the door closed, I heard her tell the guard, “Keep an eye on him. Don’t let Mr. Thorne in here again.” The second time, she brought an assistant and a pile of nutritional supplements. The moment she was gone, I told the guard, “Throw it all out.” Along with all the years of devotion I had wasted on her. The day I was discharged was the day we were scheduled to finalize the divorce. With the help of my guards, I stood up from my wheelchair, steady on my feet. “Let’s go.” On the way to the city hall, I received a message from my mother. “Wyatt, don’t worry. I have Leo with me. We’re waiting for you at the city hall. We’ll go to the airport together after you’re done.” I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again, the last traces of doubt were gone, replaced by a steely resolve. I spotted Evelyn the moment I walked into the lobby. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, with Adrian, in his own custom-tailored suit, his arm around her. They looked like a couple about to get married. “Evelyn, are we really doing this today?” Adrian’s hand tightened on her waist. She looked up and kissed his chin. “If my father hadn’t threatened to disown me all those years ago, I never would have married Wyatt. I’ve made you wait so long. It’s time I gave you what you deserve. I can’t wait to be your wife.” Adrian laughed, but his eyes kept darting toward the entrance. “It seems I’ve arrived just in time.” My voice cut through the quiet lobby. I was wearing a black suit, my hair perfectly styled. I looked sharp, confident. I wanted them to see that without them, I was reborn. Adrian’s face fell. “How are you able to stand?!” he blurted out. Evelyn stared at me, stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting this. “Evelyn, don’t just stand there! Let’s get this over with!” Adrian tugged at her sleeve, a flash of panic in his eyes. Evelyn snapped out of her daze and we went through the paperwork. With a final, decisive stamp, our eight-year marriage was over. Adrian let out a sigh of relief and pushed the three girls toward me. “Now you can tell the truth, can’t you? We all know you only chose Leo to make a point. So, which of these three do you want?” Just as he finished speaking, my mother walked in, holding Leo’s hand. “Daddy!” Leo cried, running to me. I knelt and hugged him, then looked at Evelyn and Adrian, and said, clearly and firmly, “From the very beginning, he was the only one I ever wanted.”

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Three months postpartum, and I broke my leg. My husband, Mark, felt terrible for me. He spared no expense, hiring the most sought-after maternity nurse in the city. The deposit alone was five thousand dollars. My mom was looking over the nurse’s resume, gushing with praise and just about to call to have her start the next day. I pressed the end-call button on her phone. “Don’t bother. Aunt Brenda is about to swoop in and try to steal her.” For as long as I can remember, my mother has played the role of a living saint. The second my aunt’s family started crying poor, every good thing we had was offered up to them first. My mom proudly called it “helping others,” oblivious to the fact that behind her back, Aunt Brenda called her a “gullible fool.” But my mother insisted I was the cynical one, that her sister-in-law wasn’t that kind of person. She picked up the phone to dial again. Just then, the door swung open. It was Aunt Brenda, grabbing my mother’s hand and immediately starting to dab at her eyes. She wailed that her daughter-in-law’s milk hadn’t come in and begged my mom to let them have the maternity nurse. My mom stood there, phone in hand, looking utterly mortified. I crossed my arms, a cold smirk on my face. “Well, Mom? What’s it going to be this time? Yes or no?” 1. Aunt Brenda wiped at tears that weren’t there, her eyes darting to my mother’s face. “Sharon, you know my grandson was born premature. He’s so fragile, and his mother can’t produce any milk. If we don’t have a professional looking after him, I’m afraid the baby might not…” She let the sentence hang, swallowing the word “die” but leaving the terror of it to poison the air. My mother, predictably, took the bait. She glanced at my leg, hoisted high in its plaster cast, then at my daughter sleeping peacefully in her bassinet. My mom bit her lip and turned to me. “Anna, you heard her. This is a life-or-death situation for your aunt’s family.” “Your leg is already broken. It just needs time to heal. But if that baby dies, it would be a terrible sin.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I pointed to my leg, then to the bassinet. “Mom, I am your daughter. Your daughter. I just gave birth, I have a broken leg, and I can’t even take care of myself.” “Mark paid a five-thousand-dollar deposit for this nurse specifically because she has a background in physical therapy and rehabilitation.” “And you want me to just give her away? What about me? What about your granddaughter?” My mother’s brow furrowed, as if I were being completely unreasonable. “Why do you have to be so selfish?” “You have money. You can just hire another one. Your aunt’s family is struggling; they can’t afford someone like this.” “Saving a life is the greatest good you can do. Don’t you understand something so simple?” Sensing my mother’s resolve wavering, Aunt Brenda immediately pressed her advantage. “That’s right, Anna. We all know you’re doing well for yourself, not like us, poor as church mice.” “About the nurse’s salary… we could chip in a few hundred bucks, you know, as a token of our appreciation. For the rest, maybe you could…” Unbelievable. Not only did she want the nurse, but she also wanted me to foot the bill. She wanted me to pay for someone to take care of her grandson. And my mother was actually nodding along. “A few hundred is a nice gesture. Anna’s not short on cash.” A fire ignited in my chest. This wasn’t my mother; she was an unofficial member of Aunt Brenda’s household. I grabbed the mug from my bedside table and hurled it to the floor. CRACK! The sharp sound echoed through the room. Water splashed everywhere, and a shard of ceramic skittered to a stop near Aunt Brenda’s foot. She shrieked and jumped back. “My God! Are you trying to kill me?” My mom, startled at first, shot me a thunderous look. “Anna! What is wrong with you? Have you lost all your manners?” “You want manners? Fine.” “This nurse is under an exclusive contract. The cancellation fee is ten thousand dollars.” “Whoever wants to take her can put that ten grand on the table right now.” “Furthermore, her services were approved as a special benefit through my husband’s company. Transferring her privately could be considered fraud. We can call the police right now and see what a judge thinks about that.” The mention of “ten thousand” and “police” made Aunt Brenda’s face go pale. People like her were terrified of spending money and even more terrified of jail time. Her eyes shifted nervously. She resorted to whining. “Oh, Sharon, look at your Anna. The richer she gets, the stingier she becomes. Who is she trying to scare…” “Fine, don’t lend her to us! Why go crazy over it? It’s true what they say: the rich forget all about their poor relatives!” Muttering under her breath, Aunt Brenda stormed out, spitting on the floor for good measure on her way through the door. I thought my mom might ask if I had hurt myself in my anger. Instead, her face was a stony mask as she pointed a finger at me and began her tirade. “You chased your aunt away over such a trivial matter. How am I supposed to face our relatives now?” “Everyone praises me, calls me a saint, and you! You’re determined to ruin my reputation!” 2. My mother lectured me for a solid thirty minutes. She only stopped when Mark got home. He came in looking tired from a long day, carrying a strawberry cheesecake, my favorite. The moment he stepped inside, he could feel the tense atmosphere. The broken porcelain was still on the floor. My mother was on the sofa, wiping her eyes, while I lay in bed, my face a cold mask. Mark’s expression changed instantly. He didn’t even bother to take off his shoes before rushing to my bedside. “Honey, what’s wrong? Is your leg hurting?” He anxiously checked my cast, then glanced at our sleeping daughter, breathing a sigh of relief only when he confirmed we were both okay. Seeing Mark, my mom found a new audience for her grievances. “Mark, you be the judge of this.” “Anna is becoming more and more cold-hearted. Her own relatives are in trouble. What’s wrong with lending a hand?” “Her aunt was practically on her knees, and she threatened to call the police on her!” After hearing the whole story, the warmth vanished from Mark’s face. He stood up, positioning himself between me and my mother, his tone firm. “Mom, the nurse was hired to care for Anna and our baby.” “Anna has a broken bone. She needs professional care right now. If we let the nurse go and Anna’s injury doesn’t heal properly, who’s going to be responsible?” “You are Anna’s mother. Is some outsider’s opinion more important than your own daughter’s health?” My mother was speechless. She clearly hadn’t expected her usually polite son-in-law to confront her so directly. She froze for a moment, then, flustered and angry, she resorted to playing the victim. “Oh, wonderful. Now the two of you are ganging up on a poor old woman!” “Do you think it’s been easy for me, helping out relatives all these years? Everyone calls me a good person. Was I wrong?” “Who do you think I’m doing it for? It’s to build up good karma for Anna!” “Good karma?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I told Mark to go to the study and get the old notebook. It was a record of all the injustices I’d endured since I was a child. I had him open it and read the entries aloud to my mother. “Sophomore year of college. You took the eight hundred dollars I earned from my part-time job and work-study scholarship to buy my cousin a new gaming console. You said it was a ‘loan.’ It was never paid back.” “First year of my career. That gourmet gift basket my company sent, you gave it to Aunt Brenda before I even had a chance to open it. I never saw a single shrimp.” “The small condo my parents gave me as a wedding gift. You forced me to let Aunt Brenda’s family use it as my cousin’s marital home. You said it was temporary. They’ve been living there for three years, rent-free. I’m still the one paying the utility bills!” Mark’s face grew darker with every word he read. “Mom, your precious reputation was built by carving pieces out of me.” “I am your daughter, not your personal blood bank!” Exposed, my mother couldn’t stand the humiliation. She shot up from her seat, snatched the notebook from Mark, and threw it on the floor. “I raised you! What’s wrong with using your things? You’re just like your good-for-nothing father, completely heartless!” With that, she stormed into the guest room, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. Mark wrapped his arms around me, his touch gentle as he stroked my back. “Don’t be angry. It’s bad for you. I’m here now. I won’t let them drain you dry ever again.” His embrace was warm, but it couldn’t dispel the deep chill that had settled in my heart. Late that night, my phone buzzed. It was a voice message from Aunt Brenda. All traces of the day’s conflict were gone, replaced by a tone of entitled greed. “Anna, dear, I’ll drop the subject of the nurse. But my daughter-in-law is so weak after the delivery, you know. I heard you have some kind of imported therapy machine? Could we borrow it for a bit?” “Your leg is what it is, anyway. A couple of days without it won’t make a difference.” This family was a swarm of leeches. Once they latched on, they never let go. 3. The next morning, as soon as Mark left for work, Aunt Brenda showed up with my cousin, Kevin, in tow. They were smarter this time, bringing a basket of bruised, mealy-looking apples as a peace offering. “Oh, Anna, I was just so worried yesterday. I spoke too harshly. Please don’t take it to heart.” Aunt Brenda set the apples on the table, her eyes already scanning the room. Finally, her gaze landed on the physical therapy machine humming quietly beside my leg. Mark had a friend ship it over from Germany. It was worth over eight thousand dollars and was specifically designed to prevent muscle atrophy after surgery like mine. My doctor had been adamant: I needed to use it for at least four hours every single day. “So this is that therapy machine, huh? Looks pretty high-tech.” Aunt Brenda walked over and reached for the plug. “Perfect. My husband’s back has been acting up, and my daughter-in-law is sore all over. We’ll just take it back and let the whole family have a go.” I slammed my hand down on the machine. “No.” “This is medical equipment, not a flashlight. You could hurt someone by misusing it. Besides, I’m in the middle of my rehab. I can’t stop.” Aunt Brenda’s face fell instantly. “Anna, why are you so selfish? It’s not going to break if we just borrow it!” Kevin, who had been silent until now, suddenly lunged forward and shoved my hand away. “Mom, why are you wasting your breath on her? Aunt Sharon already said we could take it!” With that, he started to lift the machine. Panicked, I ignored the cast on my leg and struggled to stop him. “That’s mine! I’m not lending it to you! This is robbery!” Just then, my mother came out of the kitchen, a spatula still in her hand. She didn’t even look at me, her words aimed directly at my head. “Anna! Let go!” “It’s just a stupid machine! What’s the big deal if your cousin uses it for a couple of days?” “His wife could end up with lifelong health problems from childbirth. A couple of days without it won’t kill you!” I stared at my mother in disbelief. “Mom, this is my lifeline! The doctor said even one missed day could lead to muscle atrophy!” “Stop listening to doctors trying to scare you! You’re just being dramatic!” my mother snapped, walking towards me. To help Kevin get the machine, she reached out and shoved me. Hard. “Let go! Why are you being so difficult!” I was sitting in a wheelchair. Her push landed squarely on my shoulder, causing the chair to tip over. My entire body slammed onto the hard marble floor. The leg that had just been surgically repaired, the bones carefully set, struck the ground with brutal force. CRACK! An excruciating pain, sharp as an electric current, shot through my entire body. A piercing scream tore from my throat as cold sweat instantly drenched my clothes. Aunt Brenda and Kevin froze, nearly dropping the machine. But they didn’t stop. They seized the opportunity, hoisting the therapy unit and bolting for the door. “She fell on her own! It has nothing to do with us!” Kevin shouted as he ran. Aunt Brenda was even faster. “That’s right, Sharon, you saw it! We didn’t touch her!” They vanished out the door, clutching the machine that was supposed to save my leg. And my own mother just stood there. She looked down at me on the floor, a flicker of panic in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance. “What are you screaming for? You’re fine.” “You just had to fight with your own family. You fell? You deserved it!” 4. The blinding pain made my vision swim in and out of focus. I felt a warm, sticky liquid seeping from my cast, quickly staining my pajama pants red. The bone had shifted, probably tearing a blood vessel. In her bassinet, my daughter, startled by my scream, began to wail. With a monumental effort, I lifted my head and looked at my mother. “Mom… help me…” “There’s so much blood… take me to the hospital…” When she saw the blood pooling on the floor, her expression finally changed. She took an instinctive step towards me, as if to help me up. Just then, Aunt Brenda’s anxious voice called from outside. “Sharon! Get down here and give us a hand! This thing is too heavy to fit in the trunk!” My mother’s movement halted. She looked at me, drenched in a cold sweat and on the verge of passing out. Then she looked towards the door. Aunt Brenda called again, more impatiently this time. “Sharon! Hurry up! Don’t let that brat Anna change her mind and come after us!” My mother hesitated for a single, eternal second. Then she turned back to me, pointed a finger, and spat, “Stop faking it! A little blood won’t kill you!” “I’m going to help your aunt get this thing downstairs. I’ll deal with you when I get back.” With that, she turned and walked out. I watched in despair as the door clicked shut. This was my mother. At the moment my life hung in the balance, she chose to help the robbers carry away their loot. My consciousness began to fade, consumed by the agony. But I couldn’t die. My daughter was still crying. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, using my elbows to drag my body across the floor, inch by painful inch, towards the coffee table. A thick, horrifying trail of red marked my path. Finally, my fingers brushed against my phone. I managed to unlock it, my bloody fingertips smudging the screen before the sensor finally registered. I dialed Mark’s number. “Hello? Honey?” The moment he answered, I used my very last breath to force out a single word: “Help…” The phone slipped from my grasp. Darkness swallowed me whole. I don’t know how much time passed. I heard the sound of the front door being forced open with a violent crash. “ANNA!!!” It was Mark’s voice, a raw, gut-wrenching roar. It was followed by frantic footsteps and the panicked shouts of the building’s security guard. And then, another sound from the doorway. Someone humming a cheerful little tune. It was my mother. She had finished her task and was returning at her leisure. “What’s all the racket? You’re going to break the door!” “She just took a little fall. Is all this drama really necessary…” Her voice died in her throat as she took in the scene: the room full of people and the dark, spreading pool of blood on the floor. Mark, cradling my blood-soaked body, lifted his head. His eyes were blazing red as he stared at her with pure, unadulterated hatred. I wasn’t “faking it.” I was, in fact, dying.

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1 I had one month left to live when my brother threw me out of the house. I found an old video camera, wanting to record one last message for myself. “Holly, in your next life, don’t be born into this family again. It’s not a role you can bear.” But the moment I turned it on, it started playing a video automatically. My brother was smiling, holding the camera. “I swear,” his younger voice said, “I promised Mom I would protect my sister with my life. I’ll never let anyone hurt her.” I froze, a tear tracing a path down my cheek. “But… I don’t want to be your sister anymore,” I whispered. To my shock, the boy in the video suddenly stared straight at me, his expression defiant. “Who are you? What gives you the right to say that?” … I stood stunned, watching as the little figure on the screen looked around the room in the video. “Who’s talking? Is that my sister?” In the video, my mother gently touched my brother’s head, her face full of loving confusion. “Owen, honey, it’s just us in the living room. You must have misheard.” Seeing the warm, kind woman on the screen, my tears began to flow freely. My mother died in childbirth when I was born. I had never met her. And my brother, Owen, had become the person who hated me most in the world. Young Owen looked bewildered, waving his hand dismissively. “I guess I heard wrong. I thought I heard… I thought I heard my sister say she didn’t want to be my sister.” His expression was a mixture of hurt and confusion, and he looked down at his mother’s pregnant belly, his eyes welling up. “How could that be possible?” she soothed. “Owen is the best big brother in the world. Your sister will be so excited to meet you.” Watching this scene, a bitter smile touched my lips. Owen really was the best brother in the world. But he wasn’t my brother anymore. In the camera’s memory, young Owen nodded, his face breaking into a grin. “I can’t wait to meet her, either. I bet she’ll be really cute.” A tightness gripped my chest. I turned the camera off, the idea of recording anything forgotten. Staring into the darkness of my tiny rental room, I took a deep breath and forced myself to my feet to open the curtains. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my torso, as if my organs were being twisted into knots. When I finally pulled the curtains back, the first rays of morning light streamed in, illuminating my reflection in the glass. I had wasted away to just seventy-four pounds. My body was little more than a skeleton, my cheekbones jutting out sharply over a gaunt face. Only my eyes seemed alive, large and dark in their hollowed sockets. Even I was frightened by my own appearance. I quickly grabbed a hat and a mask, pulling them on. My body felt lost inside my baggy clothes, almost swaying with the motion. Holly, your life is anything but holy. I laughed at the cruel irony and picked up my phone. The screen saver was a photo of Owen and me. And another girl… the sister whose hand he was holding. I was standing off to the side, clutching a ragged doll, too afraid to step closer. It was the only picture I had with him. The other girl in the photo, Ivy, was the one who was truly his sister. She was beautiful and sweet, everything he imagined a sister should be, and he gave her the world. I was four years old the day Ivy was brought home. I was crouching in a corner, playing with the ragged doll Owen had tossed to me once, and I stood up when he walked in, holding Ivy’s hand. “You’re scaring Ivy,” he said, shielding her behind him before turning his cold eyes on me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Ivy peeked out from behind him, her wide eyes fixed on me. “Brother, is she your sister, too?” “No. I only have one sister, and that’s you.” Owen smiled, ruffling Ivy’s hair. My own eyes went wide. I asked him, “Then, brother… what am I?” If Ivy is your only sister, then what am I? “You’re just someone living in our house,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “When Ivy turns eighteen, we’ll send you away.” Then he turned and left with Ivy, without giving me so much as a second glance. 2 My phone buzzed, shattering the silence. The caller ID read: Owen. My hand tightened around the phone. After a moment of hesitation, I answered. “Hello?” I heard a cold chuckle on the other end. “Did you call me just to laugh at me?” I asked, my voice tight. “Just checking to see if you’re dead yet,” Owen said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. It was a universe away from the bright-eyed boy in the video who had sworn to protect his sister forever. There was no trace of him left. “Sorry to disappoint you. But it won’t be long now,” I replied, my own voice just as flat, without a hint of inflection. He didn’t know. I really was dying. “Ha.” I heard him laugh again. “Then I’ll be waiting with bated breath. I’m curious to see how you’ll apologize to Mom when you get to the other side.” My grip on the phone tightened. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” The sunlight felt warm on my skin, the only source of warmth in the freezing room. Last night, the pain had been so intense it felt like my body was being ripped apart, and I hadn’t slept at all. The air was so cold I could see my own breath. All I wanted was to sleep. Preferably, a sleep I would never wake up from. “Ivy’s eighteenth birthday party is tomorrow. She wants you to be there. If you promise not to cause any trouble, you can stay until after the party. You brought this on yourself.” “I’ll have someone pick you up tomorrow. You have to be there.” With that, he hung up. I listened to the dial tone drone on. I tossed the phone aside. He was right. I could have stayed until after Ivy’s party. But Ivy couldn’t wait. Yesterday, I had found her scratching our mother’s photograph. That was my mother. The only mother I had, the one I could only speak to through that faded picture. Though I was weak and gaunt, I used every last bit of my strength to slap Ivy across the face. In return, my brother threw me out, along with my ragged doll. His strength was terrifying. I hit the ground so hard I felt like my bones were going to shatter, the splinters threatening to pierce my lungs. For a moment, I couldn’t tell what hurt more: the fall or the disease ravaging my insides. “Holly, you’re asking for it,” Owen had snarled. “Get out. And don’t let my sister see your face again.” Owen, didn’t you tell me to get lost? I turned on the camera again. Inside, young Owen was folding paper cranes. The clock on his desk showed it was three in the morning, but he just rubbed his eyes and kept going. “My sister will be born soon,” he muttered to himself with a smile. “I have to hurry and make a thousand of these. Then she’ll be safe and happy her whole life.” I stared at the screen, and as if speaking to him, or maybe to myself, I said, “Stop folding.” Your sister won’t be safe and happy. She’s going to die before she even turns eighteen. Young Owen looked up again, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “You again. Who are you? Why do you keep trying to ruin things between me and my sister?” I paused, listening as his indignant voice filled the silence. “This morning you said she didn’t want to be my sister, and now you’re telling me not to pray for her well-being. Who are you?” 3 “I’m from eighteen years in the future,” I told the boy on the screen. His eyes lit up. He sat up straight, facing the camera—facing me. “Eighteen years! Then my sister has been born by now! Is she doing okay? Are we close? I bet I spoil her like a princess! After all, I’m the best brother in the world.” He puffed out his chest with absolute confidence. “She’s not doing well at all,” I said flatly. My whole body ached. The bruises from being thrown out were turning a deep, ugly purple. Even my organs hurt. And it was all thanks to the very same brother who had once sworn to protect me. Owen faltered. “Am I dead? Did I fail to take care of her? Oh, no… you’re lying, aren’t you!” “You’re alive and well. And you will be for a long time. Just… don’t let your sister be born. She’ll only suffer.” I said it quickly and shut the camera off, but not before I heard his desperate shout. “Who are you? Why should I believe you? How could I possibly let my sister be unhappy? You must be lying to me!” Five-year-old Owen would never believe he could be cruel to his sister. Even I wouldn’t have believed it. My brother once promised to protect me. How laughable. The next day, I went to a pharmacy. I emptied a pocketful of crumpled bills and loose change onto the counter to buy some painkillers. “Miss, this isn’t enough,” the pharmacist said with a frown. “Go on, now. Don’t cause trouble.” “Please, sir,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Can I just have a few pills? This is all the money I have. Just a few will do.” I was so desperate I was close to getting on my knees. The pain was unbearable, like a thousand knives stabbing me from the inside out, making every breath an agony. “I can’t just break open a bottle for you. There’s nothing I can do, miss. Please leave, you’re bothering my customers. It’s bad enough having someone like you as my first sale of the day. You’re a jinx.” He waved his hand at me dismissively, his face a mask of disgust. “Go on, get out of here.” “Give her a bottle. Keep the change.” A hand with long, elegant fingers placed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. My first instinct was to run. “Don’t you want your medicine?” Owen’s cool voice came from behind me. He dangled the bottle of painkillers in his hand. “After all, I’m the one who threw you on the ground. I suppose I should take some responsibility.” “If that’s the case, you have a lifetime of things to take responsibility for,” I said, looking at him. Only my eyes were visible, the rest of my face and body hidden. I didn’t want him to see me like this, looking like I was at death’s door. Owen smirked. “Still got that sharp tongue. Today is Ivy’s birthday. The driver went to pick you up, but you weren’t there. I never expected to run into you while I was out arranging her custom cake and party dress.” “Can’t even scrape together a hundred dollars. Holly, you really are pathetic.” “Thrown out by my own brother, replaced by an adopted sister, bullied for years until my reputation is in tatters… I was already pathetic enough.” Words like that didn’t even faze me anymore. I spoke of my short, tragic life as casually as if I were commenting on the weather. A shadow crossed Owen’s face. “You failed our mother. You deserve everything you get.” I didn’t answer. I twisted the cap off the bottle of painkillers and poured a handful into my mouth, chewing them like candy. Owen stared, a look of disgust on his face. “Anyone watching would think you were about to die from the pain.” “You guessed right,” I said, a miserable smile hidden behind my mask. He grabbed my arm to pull me towards his car. “You’re coming to the party. Ivy said she wants you there, which means I have to bring you.” The moment his fingers closed around my wrist, he flinched. “Are you starving yourself to death?” “Losing weight.” “You’d be ugly either way,” he sneered, before shoving me into the car. The car sped away.

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To get under the skin of the insufferable Hawthorne triplets, I made a point of saying it loud and clear at the family dinner. “So, have the three of you decided? Which one is going to be the lucky groom in this arranged marriage?” They practically shoved each other away, disgust written plainly on their handsome faces. I was about to randomly point and choose when a little girl suddenly appeared at my side. She claimed to be from eight years in the future. “Mommy, I finally found you.” She threw herself into my arms, then looked up at the Hawthorne brothers. “Daddy, you’re here too! You really, really love Mommy, don’t you? You follow her everywhere. No wonder when she said she didn’t want you anymore, you had to go find a rooftop to… cool down.” “Wait a second!” The little girl’s eyes went wide. “How do I have three daddies?!” 1 The entire room fell into a dead silence. After what felt like an eternity, the eldest triplet, Arthur Hawthorne, was the first to react. “What nonsense are you talking about, kid?” He then shot me a cold look. “I get it, Stella. This is another one of your little ploys, isn’t it? You hired an actress.” Before I could argue, the little girl in my arms puffed out her cheeks in anger. “Daddy, are you trying to make Mommy mad? Candy won’t help you get back in her good graces this time!” “Who’s your daddy?!” all three of them snapped in unison. “Well, it’s either you, or him, or him,” the little girl said, pointing a chubby finger at each of the triplets in turn. “When Daddy stands with his brothers, Candy gets confused.” “You must remember your father’s name,” Arthur pressed. “Umm, I only know his last name is Hawthorne.” “You don’t even know his first name? And you expect us to believe this isn’t an act?” The little girl got flustered. “It’s because he always calls himself Mommy’s good little puppy!” 2 I took a sip of water and nearly choked. Was that something you could just say out loud? The Hawthorne brothers’ faces were a thunderous shade of black. Normally, no one would believe such a ridiculous story. Except… the little girl’s features were a perfect, miniature version of theirs. Down to the sharp jawline and the intense eyes. If you looked closely, you could even see a faint resemblance to Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne. The little girl, Candy, tugged on my sleeve. “Mommy, which one is my daddy?” “…How should I know?” My brain was about to short-circuit. That was a question far beyond my pay grade. “Oh, right, I remember now!” Candy clapped her hands. “At this time, Mommy and Daddy’s relationship was still really bad.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “It was because my auntie was bullying Mommy, and Daddy helped her do it. He regretted it for a long, long time afterward.” 3 It was like she was dropping a series of bombs. The room fell silent once again. My stepsister, Luna, immediately panicked. “Little girl, you shouldn’t tell lies!” “I’m not lying,” Candy said matter-of-factly. “My mommy is allergic to shellfish, but you always sneak seafood sauce into her dipping bowl.” As she spoke, I glanced down at the small bowl in front of me. The one Luna had just brought over. My father had even praised her for it. “Luna, even though you’re not our biological daughter, you’re more thoughtful than one. She’s so kind, always helping her sister adjust. Stella, you should learn from her.” Candy picked up the bowl and trotted over to my father, Robert Shaw. “Grandpa, you can taste it if you don’t believe me.” Robert was still in a state of shock. But before he could respond, Candy spun around and called out to the family chef. “Never mind, let’s ask Angus. Grandpa Angus, can you smell this? Is there seafood sauce in here?” Angus had been our family’s chef for nearly a decade. He took one sniff and nodded decisively. “Yes, there is. It’s the new brand of oyster sauce I just bought. That’s the smell.” In an instant, every eye in the room swiveled to Luna. Her face was pale with panic. “I… I just forgot my sister was allergic. I swear it wasn’t on purpose.” Her eyes welled up with tears. Arthur’s brow furrowed with concern for her. “I believe Luna. She’s not that kind of person.” “I believe her too. We’ve known her since she was a little girl,” the second brother, Julian, chimed in. The youngest, Wyatt, followed suit. “Are you all really going to believe some random kid who appeared out of nowhere?” The three of them stood up, ready to escort the now-sobbing Luna from the room. As he left, Wyatt shot me a look and drew a finger across his throat. The message was clear: if he found out this was a stunt I’d orchestrated, I would pay. But honestly, I was more curious than they were. Who was this kid? Because I couldn’t stand a single one of the Hawthorne brothers. 4 The Hawthorne triplets despised me because, for the first twenty-three years of my life, I had lived on a ranch out west, surrounded by horses. I had only been found and brought back to my biological family three months ago. I still remembered the day I returned. In front of everyone, Luna had asked me with a saccharine sweetness, “Sister, I’ve been in your place for so long. I hope you don’t mind?” I said, “I do.” Luna, clearly not expecting my bluntness, burst into tears. The triplets immediately rushed to comfort her, and that’s when their animosity toward me began. But I was only telling the truth. Luna was adopted from an orphanage simply because she bore a slight resemblance to me. By then, I’d been missing for three years. To soothe their grief, my parents adopted her and let her take my place. Her name, Luna, meant “blooming”—a new life for them. She was obedient and sweet. But whenever my parents started making plans to search for me again, Luna would conveniently come down with a fever or a headache, tying them down. Over time, the search for me was forgotten. She had lived comfortably as their only daughter for years. Now that I was back, it was time for a reality check. She needed to understand whose life she’d been borrowing. As for the Hawthornes next door, our families had a long-standing marriage agreement. The bride was supposed to have been Luna. Now, it was me. None of the four of them were happy about it. Funny, neither was I. Every time I saw the three brothers grinning like idiots around Luna, I wondered if fate was plotting the downfall of the Hawthorne dynasty. How could anyone be so monumentally stupid? Case in point: the day after the dinner party. A DNA sample from Candy had been sent for testing, but the results weren’t back yet. Still, they were already scrambling to pledge their allegiance to Luna. “Who do you think Candy’s father is?” “Well, you can rule me out,” Julian, the second brother, said with absolute certainty. “I’m allergic to country girls. I couldn’t possibly touch Stella.” “It’s not me, either,” Arthur, the eldest and most serious, said, adjusting his glasses. “I would rather become a monk than be with Stella.” Wyatt, the youngest, chimed in, “Don’t look at me. I can’t stand her. Marrying her and having a kid? You might as well just kill me now.” “It has to be a setup,” Arthur concluded. “Stella hired a child who looks like us because she was afraid none of us would agree to the marriage. She’s disgustingly desperate.” “Yeah, that must be it.” What a bunch of idiots. Did they think they were so clever? They didn’t even bother to lower their voices when they were bad-mouthing someone. Hopeless. I was sitting just inside the window, sharing a snack with Candy. “They’re saying such mean things about us,” I whispered to her. “How are you not sad?” “There’s nothing to be sad about.” Candy swung her little legs, perfectly calm. “The time is almost here.” “What time?” “The time for Daddy to fall in love with Mommy.” “And how do you know that?” The little girl puffed out her chest with pride. “Because I peeked at Daddy’s diary, of course!” 5 I was about to tell her that snooping in diaries was wrong when Wyatt’s voice cut through from outside. “Anyway, I’ve had it with Stella. As soon as those test results come back, I’m going to make her pay!” “Sigh…” Luna, who had been silent, let out a soft, delicate sigh. The three of them immediately swarmed her. “What’s wrong?” “Are you not feeling well, Luna?” “I was just thinking… even if the child is an actress, you can’t escape the arranged marriage.” The brothers fell silent. Arthur was the first to speak. “I won’t agree to it. I’m going to marry you, Luna.” “Get lost. Luna wants to marry me, right?” Wyatt shot back. “What are you two talking about? It’s obviously me!” Julian interjected. “Please, don’t fight!” Luna said, cutting them off. “My sister gets to choose first. It doesn’t matter what any of you want.” “But Luna, are you really okay with that?” She lowered her eyes, her voice thick with martyrdom. “Stella is the real daughter of this family. I stole her place for all these years. It’s only right that she gets to choose first.” Wow. I had to admit, I loved her attitude. Even if it was a complete act, the words were music to my ears. My little sister was being so magnanimous. It would be a shame to let her “good intentions” go to waste. I stood up and tapped on the window. “Sorry to interrupt, Luna, but did you mean what you just said?” Wyatt glared at me. “Were you eavesdropping?” “I was. What are you going to do about it?” He, of course, could do nothing but glower. I turned back to Luna. “You were serious just now, weren’t you?” Luna nodded. “Of course. I feel terrible for taking your place, your family… So now, whatever you want, sister, I’m willing to give it to you.” “That’s wonderful.” I pointed a finger at the three clueless brothers. “They are all currently my potential fiancés. Until my marriage is settled, please have some self-respect and stay away from them.” “Stella, are you crazy?!” “Are you out of your mind?!” Luna’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But… but we grew up together! We’re very close…” Oh, so we were playing the innocent card. Two could play at that game. I was about to counter with my own brand of saccharine manipulation when Candy spoke up from beside me. “You just promised to let my mommy have whatever she wants. Were you lying to us?” The little girl’s eyes were wide and round, pure and innocent. She then turned to the three brothers. “Daddy taught Candy that lying is bad, right, Daddy?” “…Who’s your dad?!” Wyatt finally snapped. He had the shortest fuse of the three. “Stella, don’t push it! I’ve been putting up with you for Luna’s sake, but this is too much! Apologize to her right now, or else—” “Wait, I remember now,” Candy’s eyes lit up. “Daddy talks a lot. Is it you?” “…” Wyatt’s face turned beet red, and he was rendered completely speechless. Just then, the butler came running out, looking flustered. “The DNA results are in! The child… she is the young miss’s daughter! And she is a Hawthorne!” Every head snapped in his direction, waiting for him to continue. “But the child’s biological father is…” The butler paused, as if the words were difficult to say. “All three of you… are her biological father!”

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I reclaimed the three properties and the half-million-dollar trust fund I had put in my daughter’s name. She knelt before me, crying and begging, “Mom, I can’t live without him!” I refused without a moment’s hesitation. She wiped her tears, stood up, and told me she would rather disown me as her mother than give up on marrying that gold digger. The next day, the gold digger himself showed up with a gift, asking to meet with me alone. 01 When I arrived, Ryan was already there. We were in the most exclusive café in the city center. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows lay the bustling financial district, its glittering towers reflected in the glass, and in the pained sincerity of Ryan’s face. His coffee was untouched. A beautifully wrapped gift box sat on the table. I ignored the gift, sat down opposite him, and placed my Birkin bag on the adjacent chair. “Mrs. Heaton, you’re here,” he said, half-standing before settling back down, his smile perfectly calibrated. “Olivia didn’t sleep well last night. I was so worried about her.” His opening line, as always, was that of a devoted, caring boyfriend. I stirred the ice in the glass of water in front of me, not even bothering to order a coffee. The cubes clinked against the glass, a sharp, cold sound. “Get to the point,” I said, my gaze as sharp and dissecting as a scalpel. The smile on his face froze for a second before stretching back into place, though it no longer reached his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. “Mrs. Heaton, you’re a smart woman.” “Olivia loves me. She loves me enough to give up everything, including you.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. The stirring stopped. He seemed pleased with my reaction, the curve of his lips deepening. He began to list all the “foolish” things my daughter had done for him. She ate the cheapest cafeteria food for two months just to buy him a designer watch. She lent him her car so he could show off to his friends, while she squeezed onto the subway for over an hour every day to get to work. To protect his pathetic ego, she never dared to mention our family’s true financial standing, telling him only that I was a mid-level corporate employee. Each story was a blunt needle, pushing slowly but surely into my heart. The spoon in my glass trembled slightly, but I betrayed nothing on my face. “And?” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. Finally, he showed his true colors. “So, give Olivia back the properties and the money.” “After we’re married, you’ll still be her mother. We’ll take care of you, just like before.” He paused, the threat in his eyes now naked and unvarnished. “Otherwise, you might find it very difficult to even see her again.” The café’s heating seemed to fail. A chill crept up from the floor. I stared at him, at the undisguised greed and calculation in his eyes. This was no longer an attempt to persuade me. This was a declaration of war. As if that weren’t enough, he added one more piece of ammunition. “Mrs. Heaton, Olivia is still young, and sometimes she acts on impulse.” “What if, one day, we were to have an… accident? A baby? Surely you wouldn’t want your own grandchild to be born into a family without your blessing.” He was using my daughter’s womb to threaten me. I laughed. A cold, mirthless laugh that felt foreign on my face, making the muscles ache. “Your ambition isn’t worthy of my daughter.” He laughed too, a smug, sickening sound of absolute confidence. “No, Mrs. Heaton, you’re mistaken.” “It’s your daughter who can’t live without my ‘love’.” 02 When I got home, a half-packed suitcase was already in the entryway. My daughter, Olivia, was sitting on the rug, her eyes red and swollen. She looked like a little rabbit abandoned by the world. She shot to her feet the moment she saw me, her eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and hurt. I changed my shoes, walked to the living room sofa, and calmly recounted my entire conversation with Ryan. I didn’t add a single embellishment, didn’t inject any emotion. I was a recording, playing back his every word. I thought that would be enough to make her see him for who he truly was. I was wrong. Her reaction was even more explosive than I had anticipated. “You forced him to do it!” Her voice was shrill, laced with tears, every word an accusation. “He loves me so much! He was just trying to show you how much I love him! He was trying to reassure you! He was doing it for both of us!” For us? By threatening me? Seeing how deeply she had been manipulated, my heart sank, piece by piece, into an icy abyss. “Mom, is money the only thing you see?” “You’ve never believed I could find true love! You measure everything in dollars and cents. You don’t understand what pure love is!” My own marriage had failed years ago precisely because I had trusted a man who was only after my money, a mistake that nearly cost me everything I had built. I thought my past would be a cautionary tale for her. Instead, it became her weapon against me. She saw my caution as an insult to her love. Any explanation now would be pointless, twisted into further proof of my “controlling” nature. I couldn’t say a word. I just watched her. My silence seemed to enrage her further. She zipped the suitcase shut with a violent tug and dragged it to the door. She turned back, tears streaming down her young, stubborn face. “I’m moving in with Ryan.” “We’ll let you know after we get our marriage license.” “You’re going to regret this, Mom! You’ll see how wrong you were today!” The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the house. It felt like it had shattered the twenty-three years of love between us. I stared at the closed door, a profound sense of powerlessness washing over me for the first time in my life. I was alone in the vast, empty living room. Photos of her, from a babbling toddler to a proud college graduate, lined the walls, each smiling face a mockery of my failure. I had raised an accomplished, kind-hearted daughter. But I had failed to teach her how cruel the world could be. After a long time, I took out my phone and dialed a number. “Mr. Davis, I need you to find me the most reliable private investigator you know.” “I need a full background check on a man named Ryan. His family, his social circles, his past relationships, his finances. Everything. I want to know everything.” I hung up and didn’t turn on the lights. I sat there in the darkness, all night long. Grief washed over me like a tidal wave, but from the ruins of that sorrow, a harder, colder resolve began to grow. 03 The private investigator was efficient. Less than three days later, the first report arrived in my encrypted inbox. Ryan’s hometown was in a dirt-poor, rural county, in a village nestled deep in the mountains. His parents were farmers with antiquated, misogynistic views that were truly appalling. They had bled themselves and their several daughters dry to put their one son, Ryan, through college. He had a younger brother, five years his junior, a high school dropout who loafed around at home, the lazy, spoiled hope of the family. Most of Ryan’s salary since he started working had been funneled back home. He himself lived in a tiny, 300-square-foot studio apartment near his office. I looked at the photos—the crumbling house, the weathered lines on his parents’ faces, the sneer on his bleach-blond brother’s face. This was the “simple, kind-hearted” family he had told Olivia about. At almost the same moment, my “mole” sent me a message. The mole was my distant niece, Sarah, a couple of years older than Olivia. I had introduced them as friends. Sarah’s text read: Aunt Katherine, it’s bad. Ryan brought his whole family to the city! Attached was a photo. Four people were crammed into that tiny apartment. Ryan’s parents sat on the only worn-out sofa, their expressions a mixture of discomfort and scrutiny. His brother was slouched in a chair, legs crossed, engrossed in his phone. And my daughter, Olivia, was in the cramped kitchen, wearing an apron, her back to the camera. She looked so utterly out of place. Sarah’s play-by-play followed. The moment his mom met Olivia, she grabbed her hand and asked when the three properties would be transferred back to her name. She said she and the old man were getting old and needed one to retire in. His brother was getting married soon and needed one for his marital home. The last one, they could live in. Olivia awkwardly explained the properties weren’t in her name right now, and his mom’s face just fell. She started making snide remarks, like ‘City girls are so precious. Not even married yet and already talking back to her mother-in-law.’ I could practically see the scene, see the helpless, cornered look on my daughter’s face. And the brother is even worse! He just flat-out asked Olivia for money to buy the new iPhone, acting like she owed it to him! Ryan just stood there trying to smooth things over, saying things like ‘Don’t make it hard for Olivia,’ but he was giving her these looks, like he was telling her to just play along. In the end, Olivia had no choice. She transferred him a thousand dollars from the two thousand she had left in her account. That two thousand dollars was graduation money I had given her. Aunt Katherine, I was so furious I could have exploded! How can Olivia be so blind?! The last message contained a few audio recordings. I pressed play. It was the sharp, grating voice of Ryan’s mother. “What is this supposed to be? It’s so salty, it’s slop fit for pigs! Olivia, you should just quit your job. A young woman shouldn’t be out in the world like this. Quit, stay home, learn to cook properly, and get your body ready to give our family a healthy grandson!” In the background, I could hear his brother shouting at a video game and Ryan’s half-hearted, “Mom, that’s enough.” I turned off my phone, my fingertips ice-cold. Excellent. The fish were starting to take the bait. I looked out at the inky black sky, my own eyes darker than the night. The show was just beginning.

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The gorgeous, broke guy I loved to torment is suddenly the long-lost heir I’m supposed to marry. Worried he’d want revenge, I looked up self-defense tutorials online. Instead, I stumbled upon a desperate post: [The person I’ve had a crush on for five years is about to become my fiancée. How do I call off the engagement without hurting her?] The comments were a sea of question marks. But a few people tried to help. [When you go to visit her family, bring a carton of milk and a giant variety pack of chips. I guarantee the wedding will be off.] The next day, my fiancé came to visit. His face was a mask of reluctance and resistance. But in his hands were a carton of milk and a jumbo snack pack. 1 Last night, my mom dropped two bombshells on me. First, my fiancé, Joe, was the wrong baby switched at birth; he wasn’t a true heir. Our engagement was off. Hearing that, I was so thrilled I practically reached for a string of firecrackers to celebrate. Joe and I had been mortal enemies since we were kids. The only way I’d ever be desperate to marry him is if killing your husband suddenly became legal. My mom just stared at me, speechless, before dropping the second piece of news. “The real heir happens to go to your university. His name is Ethan.” My smile vanished. I quietly put the imaginary firecrackers away. There was a simple reason for this. I have a peculiar little habit of enjoying the sight of beautiful men crying. And Ethan, with his delicate features and slightly long hair, had this fragile, distant air about him that was completely my type. What’s more, Ethan was a high school classmate of mine and Joe’s. Back then, I was too busy waging war with Joe to pay him much attention. It wasn’t until college that I realized such a prime specimen existed right under my nose. So, naturally, I used my money to mess with him—a lot. I’d slapped his face with a wad of cash, wrapped a designer tie around his neck and pulled, and even dragged him out of a lecture hall with over a hundred students. I’d done every rotten thing you could think of. But no matter what I did, he remained impassive, his eyes holding nothing but cold indifference when he looked at me. Thinking back on it now… Could he be one of those secretly dark types, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to unleash his revenge? The more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. A shiver ran down my spine. Back in my room, I frantically searched for self-defense strategies. As I scrolled, a local help-wanted post caught my eye. [The person I’ve had a crush on for five years is about to become my fiancée. How do I call off the engagement without hurting her?] Everyone knows the best glow-up for a guy is a dose of insecurity, but this level of self-doubt was something else. I had to see what kind of person this was. I clicked on the post. Plenty of others shared my confusion. [Dude, your crush is becoming your fiancée and you want to call it off?] [The internet isn’t here for your weird flex, buddy. Stop showing off.] [I’m a peer counselor. If you have a reason you absolutely must end it, you can talk to me.] The original poster replied earnestly: [A crush is a one-person thing. Marriage is for two people who love each other. She doesn’t like me, she might even hate me. Calling it off is the best choice.] The comments section exploded. [THEN! MAKE! HER! LIKE! YOU!] [Your crush is finally walking toward you, and you turn and run? I’ve never seen logic like that before.] [I’m with the person above. Use this chance to get to know each other. It’s totally possible she’ll fall for you.] The poster replied: [Really?] A half-minute later: [This reply has been deleted.] He posted again: [I’m partially deaf. I got into a fight the summer after graduation and perforated my eardrum. My right ear still can’t hear anything. I’ll never be good enough for her. It’s better to just forget it.] A hush fell over the comments. After a long moment, a kind soul spoke up. [Look, the fact that he’s asking means his mind is made up. Stop messing with him. I’ll give some real advice. When you visit her family, bring a carton of milk and a giant snack pack. I guarantee that marriage will be dead on arrival.] The poster replied with a simple “Thanks” and never posted again. He probably actually went out to buy the milk. 2 Curiosity got the better of me, and I clicked on his profile. His avatar was a black-and-white selfie, but his face was almost entirely out of frame, showing only the outline of his ear. In the background, a few students were posing for a photo. Their school uniforms looked familiar, but they were too blurry to make out any faces. I scrolled down. His earliest post was from five years ago. [The recycling center near my house pays thirty cents a pound for paper and seventy cents for bottles. Does anyone know a place with better rates? I’m a high school freshman, I can make deliveries after school.] Some people replied with helpful suggestions. Others, of course, were snarky. [Your family is poor enough to be collecting trash, but you have money for a phone? Weird.] [Aren’t you afraid your classmates will laugh at you for collecting scrap at your age?] The poster replied with quiet dignity: [The phone was a broken one someone threw out. I fixed it myself, so it was cheap. My grandpa isn’t well, and having a phone makes it easier for him to contact me.] [There’s nothing to laugh about. I’m proud that I can help my grandpa get the most out of his hard work.] His reply reminded me of a classmate from high school. I think he came from a poor family, but he was incredibly smart. He’d beaten Joe on the entrance exams to become number one in our year. Joe, with his drop of cleverness, had walked around with his nose in the air since kindergarten, acting like he was the only genius on the planet. Every time exam results came out, he’d poke me in the head and laugh. “Idiot. How could you get that wrong?” This was the first time he’d ever been knocked down to second place. I was thrilled. Finally, I could poke him in the head. “Idiot. Looks like someone beat you after all.” Joe’s face darkened. He shoved past me without a word and stormed off. A few days later, he found me, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I found out the number one guy’s secret. Want to know what it is?” I put on my headphones and ignored him. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, yanked my headphones off, and leaned in close. “His family collects trash for a living.” I just found it bizarre. “So? What’s wrong with collecting scrap? It’s an honest living.” Joe rolled his eyes. “Forget it. It’s pointless explaining it to a moron like you.” He smirked. “Just wait and see.” At first, I didn’t know what he was planning. Then, over the next few days, a rumor started circulating through our class. The student who helped serve food in the cafeteria came from a family of trash collectors. People said he never showered before his shift, that the food he served was crawling with cockroaches and bugs. We were freshmen, an age where the smallest bit of gossip could cause a massive stir. It started with Joe refusing to line up at that student’s station. Soon, it spread to our entire class, then the entire year, and eventually, the whole school. The rumors got worse and worse. My deskmate told me that if things kept on like this, the school would probably stop letting him help in the cafeteria. He would lose his free lunch and the stipend he earned. This whole thing didn’t really have anything to do with me. But something about what Joe was doing just rubbed me the wrong way. And if he was going to be uncomfortable, I was going to make him uncomfortable too. 3 That day at lunch, I walked up to the only station in the cafeteria with no line. “Hey. How many meals do you have left?” The boy wore a hat and a mask, but his exposed eyes were filled with confusion. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. I just handed him my meal card. “I’ll take everything you’ve got.” As I spoke, the cafeteria fell strangely silent. I pulled out the megaphone I’d brought with me. “This station is on me today. Anyone who wants to eat can come get a plate for free.” He didn’t ask any more questions. He took my card and quietly started serving the food. Vegetables, roasted duck with gravy, salted duck eggs with runny yolks. It all looked and smelled delicious. Where were the cockroaches and bugs? Even so, nobody came. I sighed in exasperation and grabbed a plate for myself. I started shoveling big spoonfuls into my mouth. I was halfway through when Joe walked up to me, a deep frown on his face. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. Then, his eyes shifted to the boy who was still silently serving food. He sneered. “Don’t tell me that coward asked you to come save him.” I looked at Joe, and every single thing about him annoyed me. I picked up my plate, now empty except for some leftover sauce, and shoved it right into his clean school uniform. “The only one with no guts here,” I said coldly, “is the one who gets jealous and plays these dirty little games.” I paid for everyone’s lunch at that station for a month. The line came back. After that, the memory gets hazy. I don’t even remember who that student was. 4 I kept scrolling through his profile. Besides the posts about recycling, there were a lot of secret diary entries about his crush. [She might be the bravest, most genuine person in the world.] [Turns out she sits right behind me. I never noticed before.] [My blood sugar was low, and she brought me afternoon tea. She said she was on a diet and couldn’t eat it. But I’m not an idiot. I know she was just trying to protect my pride. Thank you… really, thank you.] [That jerk made her angry again.] [I heard they have an engagement. It’s ridiculous. Who still has arranged marriages in this day and age?] [I know we’re from different worlds, and her kindness isn’t just for me. So, I don’t dare hope she’ll ever know how I feel. Just quietly holding onto this feeling is enough.] [But that idiot really doesn’t deserve her.] [Our teacher put us in a study group today. I’m so lucky. I can’t believe I get to be in the same group as her. But I can’t go easy on her just because I like her. I have to push her to study hard, so she can get good grades and have a bright future.] [The text was hard to memorize today, and she was so frustrated she started to cry. But I still didn’t give in. This chapter is really important; it’s always on the exams. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.] Reading that last one, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud on my bed. What a blockhead. Being that strict with the girl you like? No wonder he’s been crushing for years with no results. But… I think I was in a study group like that in high school, too. The first person I was paired with was this grim-faced guy. He made me read and do practice problems every single day. From the moment I woke up, it was all about studying. My time in that study group was the darkest period of my entire high school career. All I remember is crying over memorizing texts and wanting to weep while doing endless problem sets. I’ve even forgotten who that grim-faced guy was. I have to admit, though, my grades during that period were the best they’d ever been. After the groups were shuffled, I was never paired with him again, and my scores slowly started to slide. Luckily, I had a good foundation. Even with the slide, I still got into a top-tier university. 5 I didn’t have time to finish reading the rest of his posts. I fell asleep clutching my phone. Early the next morning, our housekeeper woke me up. She said the real heir from the Xie family had just arrived. Wait, that wasn’t right. The real heir from the Collins family was here. I got dressed and went downstairs, yawning. The first thing I saw was Ethan, sitting on the sofa. He was wearing that same white button-down shirt. The fabric was soft, but a little faded. He was thin, but with broad shoulders and a tall frame, he looked like a model in anything he wore. I found myself staring for a few seconds. Not because of him, exactly. But because of… the carton of milk and the jumbo snack pack sitting next to him. Last night’s post flashed through my mind. The coincidences piled up, forming a theory so wild I almost dismissed it myself. Just then, as if on cue, Ethan looked up. Our eyes met. His expression was as cold as ever. That deadpan, reluctant look. As much as I secretly loved it, it completely shattered my theory. Okay. I was overthinking it. There was no way he was the guy from the post last night. My mom heard me and turned around, beaming. She waved me over. “Sweetheart, you’re here! Look, isn’t Ethan so thoughtful? He even knew you liked this kind of drink and brought it especially for you.” At her words, both Ethan and I froze. My toes curled inside my slippers, and I was so mortified I wanted to turn and bolt. Mom was right. I’d loved sugary drinks and junk food since I was a kid. But to maintain my cool, sophisticated persona, I always acted like I was above such childish snacks in public. Besides my family, very few people knew. My mom, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just demolished her daughter’s carefully crafted image, happily went upstairs, claiming she wanted to give Ethan and me some time alone. In the vast living room, the atmosphere instantly became awkward. We just stared at each other. He finally broke the silence by opening the box, taking out a bottle of milk, and handing it to me. “You like this stuff?” My face fell. I snatched the bottle and took a huge, vengeful gulp. My heart was a wasteland of despair. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “Don’t tell anyone… Please.” I don’t know if it was my imagination, but the icy mask on Ethan’s face seemed to melt a little. It looked like he was trying hard not to smile. “Is it good?” he asked. It was chocolate. It was actually fine. But I was stubborn. “It’s mediocre.” Ethan looked at me, a thoughtful expression on his face, and nodded. He didn’t stay long, failing to fulfill my mom’s hopes of us bonding. After just a few minutes, he was ready to leave. As I saw him to the door, he said softly, “See you at school tomorrow. I… have something I want to talk to you about.” School? Talk? Was he going to use my secret to blackmail me into calling off the wedding? Or was he planning to broadcast my embarrassing tastes to the whole world? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. I shot him a death glare and slammed the door shut. 6 My mood soured, I retreated to my room with a bag of chips and my phone. As luck would have it, the poster from yesterday had an update. [I went to visit today with the milk and the snack pack. My fiancée’s mother wasn’t put off at all. In fact, she seemed really happy.] The other users were baffled. [How is that possible?] [My guess is either the guy is a total smokeshow, or he pulled up in a Benz carrying the milk. We all know what mothers-in-law are really after.] When the poster saw that comment, he got angry for the first time. [I’m not handsome, and her family doesn’t need money. Please don’t project your cynical views onto a woman you’ve never met.] [It was just a coincidence. She happens to really like milk.] Thankfully, most users had their heads on straight. A flood of new replies quickly buried the nasty one. [Wow, that’s perfect then!] [Dude, this is fate helping you out!] Just as everyone was getting ready for a happily-ever-after, the poster spoke again. [But she really hates me. Because I was the one who gave it to her, she didn’t look happy when she drank it. She even said it tasted mediocre.] [I’ve decided I’m going to tell her I want to call off the engagement tomorrow, in person. That should make her happy, right?] The internet fell silent. I fell silent, too. On a strange impulse, I replied to his post: [What flavor did you bring her today?] He replied almost instantly: [Chocolate.] …This wasn’t right. This was way too much of a coincidence. Once is a coincidence. Twice, three times? My heart tightened. I opened his profile picture again, saved it, and sent it to a friend who was a genius at photo restoration. [You busy? Can you restore this photo to the highest possible quality?] [It’s a tough one. Might take three days.] [I’ll pay you eight thousand.] [Babe, give me thirty minutes. It’ll be ready~] She was fast. Exactly on time, she sent the restored photo back. Not only was the background crystal clear, but the colors had been brought back to life. I slowly zoomed in on the image.

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A week before our engagement party, Addison and I had a massive fight. “Just because I have to go with her to play along for this one blind date?” He loosened his tie, his voice laced with its usual casual indifference. “Jenny, don’t be ridiculous.” “I am.” “Fine.” He nodded, his eyes turning cold. “Don’t regret it.” From high school sweethearts to the altar, he’d spent our entire youth absolutely certain that I couldn’t live without him. But he didn’t know. The blind date was just the final spark. I’d been collecting disappointments for a long, long time. This time, I wasn’t turning back. 1 “Her parents are emotionally blackmailing her, saying it would kill them if she didn’t go. She was desperate and had no one else to ask.” Addison leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, a hint of weariness in his voice. “Jenny, it’s just an act, to help her get through this.” I looked at him. “Addison, I’m calling off the engagement.” He let out a short, dismissive laugh and walked over, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “Aren’t you tired of this trick? How many times has it been? Seven? Eight? Jenny, we’re getting married next Saturday.” I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. “Nothing is set in stone. An engagement can be broken.” “Alright.” He stared at me for a couple of seconds, then dropped his hand. “As you wish. Just don’t regret it.” “I won’t.” I turned, grabbing my bag, just as the door opened and Zoe walked in. Her eyes were red-rimmed, a plane ticket clutched in her hand. “Addison, I’ve changed the flight. It’s for nine tomorrow morning… I’m still so scared it won’t work. What if her parents…” Addison didn’t answer, his gaze still locked on me. In the past, I would have been firing off sarcastic questions by now. You’re going home with her to play house, so where does that leave me, your actual fiancée? But after all this back and forth, I was just tired. So tired. I started to leave, but Zoe stepped sideways to block my path. “Jenny, please don’t misunderstand. Addison and I are just playing a part, really.” She bit her lip, looking fragile and pitiable. “My hometown is very conservative, and my parents aren’t in good health. This guy they’ve set me up with… they picked him out so carefully. I had no other choice but to ask Addison to pretend to be my boyfriend…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Think of it as… a favor, for how my parents looked after him when he was younger…” I couldn’t stop myself. “Oh, and does ‘playing a part’ require you to post pictures on social media with your arm linked through his?” “Does ‘playing a part’ mean you call him in the middle of the night, crying that you can’t sleep?” “Does ‘playing a part’ involve buying him underwear and asking if he likes the style?” “Does ‘playing a part’ mean you just happen to interrupt every single time we’re trying to discuss our wedding plans?” I took a step closer. “Are you incapable of taking care of yourself, or do you just have no common sense? Since you know it’s fake, do I need to teach you how to spell the words ‘keep your distance’?” Zoe’s face went white. Tears instantly welled in her eyes, and she lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly. “Jenny.” Addison stepped forward, pulling a tissue from the box and handing it to her, his brow deeply furrowed. “Did you have to be so harsh? She has nowhere else to turn.” Zoe’s tears slid silently down her cheeks. The quiet living room was filled with nothing but her choked, suppressed sobs. Suddenly, none of it seemed to matter anymore. It was all so pointless. I turned and walked out of that suffocating space. 2 I went home and slept like the dead until morning. Waking up, I fumbled for my phone. The screen was lit up with a new post from Zoe. [Homeward bound. A little nervous to be going back, but thank you for your courage and support. It gives me the strength to face this. Wishing for the best.] The picture was of a corner in an airport lounge. Two coffee cups sat side-by-side. On the wrist next to one of them, elegant and familiar, was the limited-edition watch I’d given Addison. Just then, the screen lit up again. A text from Addison. “Send me the final designs for the venue.” He’d spent the entire night flying to someone else’s hometown a thousand miles away, and only now did he remember the wedding we were supposed to be having. I stared at his profile picture. It was still the one of us from last year, on a snowy mountaintop. His arm was around me, his smile full of life and confidence. He’d used it for so long. My finger hovered over the screen for a few seconds before I opened my settings and dragged his contact into my block list. Downstairs for breakfast, my mom took one look at me. “You look terrible. What’s wrong?” I kept my head down, sipping my milk. “Didn’t sleep well.” “It must be pre-wedding jitters,” she said, pushing a plate with a fried egg toward me. “Honestly, Addison is such a good man. He’s made his company so successful, and at such a young age. And you, you’ve pushed back your studio’s expansion plans just to fit his schedule, pulling all-nighters to sort out wedding details. It breaks my heart to see you so exhausted.” I put down my glass. “Mom, I’ve decided on a location for the new studio. It’s in North Crest.” My mom blinked. “North Crest? That’s so far… I thought you and Addison bought your house in the South District?” “I can separate my career and my marriage.” My voice was calm. “Mom, this is a huge opportunity for my studio. If the contract is solid, I’m heading over next week to get things started.” She finally sighed. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was my best friend, Chloe, asking if I wanted to go try on some couture dresses. “Go on, have some fun,” my mom said, patting my arm. “You’ve been working so hard. You deserve a break.” Half an hour later, I was at the couture bridal salon. Chloe told me to pick out some accessories first. I was looking at a necklace when I heard a familiar voice from the VIP room next door. “Mr. Rhodes, I thought you were here to pick up your custom suit. You seem a little distracted.” “She blocked me.” It was Addison, his voice tight with irritation. “Who did? Who’s got that kind of power over you?” “Who else? The one at home,” he said, his tone laced with weary resignation. “Ah, Miss Sinclair,” the man laughed. “To be honest, with a personality like hers, you’re the only one who could handle her.” Addison let out a low grunt. “She’s the one I chose, what can I do? Spoil her, I guess.” “What was it this time?” “I’m helping Zoe deal with a blind date back in her hometown.” “That’s it?” The man sounded incredulous. “Miss Sinclair is taking that way too seriously. But really, if you want a wife who won’t cause you trouble, you should find someone like Zoe. Gentle, considerate, knows when to be vulnerable… she wouldn’t give you so much grief.” I didn’t listen to the rest. I took the necklace and went back to the fitting room. But as soon as I walked in, I saw Chloe arguing with Zoe, who was dressed in the salon’s staff uniform. She was like a bad penny, always turning up. Zoe was working here as a part-time consultant. “The size is wrong! This isn’t the dress we ordered!” Zoe looked flustered. “I’m so sorry, the two styles are so similar, I must have grabbed the wrong one…” “So exchange it! What do you mean you can’t?” When Zoe saw me, her face lit up as if she’d found her savior. “Jenny, it was my mistake, but once the dress leaves the workshop, it can’t be returned. If you cancel the order, the cost will be deducted from my salary, and I’ll lose my job.” 3 I sat down, my face a blank mask. “Are you confused? You made a mistake. Why should I be the one to bear the risk?” “I’m begging you. Just this once, for old times’ sake…” She looked pained. “I’m not like you guys. This job is really important to me…” “If it’s so important, how could you make such a mistake? And now that you have, why are you trying to guilt-trip me?” My voice was hard. Chloe chimed in. “Exactly. Either refund the money or make a new one.” It was clearly Zoe’s fault, yet she acted as if she were the one being bullied. “You rich young ladies… can’t you have a little compassion?” She wiped furiously at her eyes, then suddenly grabbed the couture gown and ran out of the room. She nearly collided with a group of people passing by the door. “Zoe?” one of them recognized her. “What’s wrong? Who’s been giving you a hard time?” Zoe shook her head, but her tear-filled eyes found Addison in the crowd. “What’s going on?” Addison asked, walking over. “She grabbed the wrong dress and won’t give us a refund,” Chloe explained, stepping out of the fitting room. “It wasn’t on purpose,” Zoe mumbled, her head bowed. “We’re all friends here, what’s the big deal?” someone in the group said, trying to smooth things over. “You two are heiresses. Do you really care about one dress?” “Care?” Chloe let out a bitter laugh. “This was a dress by Jenny’s favorite designer, and she got the wrong one!” He walked closer to me, his voice low. “Alright, is it really worth getting this upset? She didn’t do it on purpose. If you’re angry with me, fine, but don’t take it out on her. It’s not easy for her, working a job like this.” “Does the great Addison Rhodes believe that whoever is weaker is always in the right? You think I’m taking my anger out on her? Are you blind, or do you just refuse to see? The one who made the mistake is now the victim, and I’m the one being aggressive?” “Forget it, Addison,” Zoe sniffled, gently tugging on his sleeve. “I’ll use my own salary to refund Miss Sinclair. Don’t make things difficult…” Seeing her act, a fire ignited in my chest. “Who are you to make that decision?! You mess up at your job, and now you’re playing the martyr? Who gave you the right?” “Jenny.” Addison’s voice hardened. “That’s enough. Don’t go too far.” He turned to Zoe. “Contact headquarters and get this expedited. I’ll cover the costs.” “Don’t bother,” I said, picking up my bag. “If the great philanthropist wants to help, be my guest. Chloe, we’re leaving.” “Tch, what a temper,” a low voice muttered behind me. 4 Chloe and I walked through the streets as evening fell. “I’m sorry, Jenny,” she said, frustrated with herself. “I should have just gone straight to the manager.” “Why should you have?” I didn’t slow my pace. “Just because she knows how to cry, everyone is supposed to forgive her mistakes?” “Besides,” I stopped walking. “Yesterday, I called off the engagement with Addison.” Chloe walked beside me in silence. “You don’t believe me?” She sighed. “Honestly, Jenny, no one believes you’d actually leave Addison.” “And besides,” she looked at me, “can you really let him go?” In the car on the way home, Chloe’s question echoed in my mind. Can I really let him go? As we neared my house, I asked the driver to stop. I wanted to walk. The first time I met Addison was on the corner of this very street. That year, my family’s business had failed. Creditors were at our door, and I was forced to transfer to a new school. I was an outcast, always alone. One day after school, a few local thugs cornered me, demanding “protection money.” It was Addison who stepped in. He stood in front of me, clearly nervous himself but trying his best to look calm. After that, he was always around. The upheaval in my family had made me prickly and defensive. I pushed him away, told him to leave me alone, but he’d just laugh and stick around. He told me, “Jenny, you’re actually kind of cute when you’re being fierce.” Idiot, I thought to myself. In high school, a girl started a rumor that I was promiscuous. Addison tracked down the source and, in front of the entire class, threw down the evidence he’d gathered. “If anyone ever dares to slander Jenny Sinclair again, just try me,” he’d said, his eyes so fierce the girl burst into tears on the spot. After the crowd dispersed, I looked at him. “Who asked you to meddle?” “I’m going to meddle,” he’d said with a defiant lift of his chin, full of the bravado of a teenage boy. “Your business is my business.” I think that was the moment my heart skipped a beat. That day, I reached out and straightened his wrinkled collar. Our hands brushed against each other, and from that moment on, they were never separated. Until a year ago, when Zoe appeared. She was the daughter of Mr. Lin, the Rhodes’ long-time family steward. After graduating from college, she wanted to make a life for herself in the city and was temporarily staying with Addison’s family. The first time I felt something was wrong was the night Addison celebrated landing a major contract. I brought a bottle of wine to his apartment, planning to surprise him, but I heard a woman’s laughter from inside. I pushed the door open to see Zoe in the kitchen, wearing an apron, bustling about. “Addison, congratulations! I made a few of your favorite dishes. They’re not as good as Jenny’s, of course, but… it’s a little something from me.” “Thanks, Zoe. I appreciate it,” Addison said. A nameless anger flared inside me. I put down the wine. “What do you mean, not as good as mine? You cook what you cook. Why do you have to put me down to do it?” “Jenny, you’ve misunderstood!” she stammered, looking completely flustered when she saw me. Addison told her to go back to the guest room. “What is there to be jealous about?” he said, closing the door and pulling me into his arms. “I don’t like her.” “Mr. Lin isn’t well, and it’s not easy for her, starting out here on her own. My mom told me to let her stay for a while and to look out for her.” He said it would just be for a little while. But that “little while” became the period of our most frequent arguments. Zoe always seemed to appear whenever Addison and I were alone. Her computer would be broken and she’d need help, or she’d have a problem at work she needed advice on, or she’d be sick and need someone to take care of her. The moment I showed any displeasure, she would get teary-eyed, lower her head, and quietly walk away. To any outsider, it looked like I was bullying her. Even Addison thought I was overreacting. “It’s all small stuff. What’s the big deal about helping her out? I don’t like her, so what are you so worried about?” But it just felt wrong. She would call when Addison and I had an appointment to look at wedding rings, claiming a pipe had burst at home, sounding panicked and in desperate need of Addison’s help. She would have a sudden bout of gastroenteritis, requiring Addison to take her to the hospital, leaving me waiting alone at the restaurant we’d booked. She would ask Addison to help her edit her resume, and would even walk casually into his study with a plate of fruit while we were on a video call. Everyone told me not to be so petty. She was having a hard time. He was just helping. But I couldn’t get over it. I fought with him, gave him the silent treatment, broke up with him. But every time we were apart, I would toss and turn at night, pathetically crawling back, even trying to change myself, to be more “understanding.” Chloe was right. I couldn’t let him go. I really, truly couldn’t. Fifteen years of shared history were woven into my very bones. Every time I tried to tear it away, the pain was excruciating. I was afraid of the pain, so I chose to give in, again and again. Until last week. My studio was competing for a major project, and a rival was playing dirty. I was stressed out of my mind and tried to call him for advice. I called him countless times. No answer. I battled through it alone until late into the night, managing to avert the crisis. Only later did I find out that he had spent that evening helping Zoe run through a mock Q&A for her blind date back home. He didn’t even know what I had been through. In that moment, I suddenly felt that leaving… might not be so hard after all.

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To poach me, the rival CEO came knocking three times, offering a staggering one-million-dollar annual salary. I was tempted. I made the jump. But after my first month, the direct deposit hit my account. The text alert read: $2,000. When I confronted him, the CEO just shrugged it off. “It’s a probationary test. Show me your value. Don’t just chase the money.” I laughed and submitted my resignation on the spot. Three days later, his company’s entire system collapsed. Their stock value plummeted, erasing half a billion dollars overnight. 1 My phone buzzed on the desk. It was the direct deposit notification from the bank. I didn’t look at it right away. My fingers were still flying across the keyboard, typing out the final line of code. Enter. Compile. Run. A splash of green lit up my screen: SUCCESS. The foundational optimization of the entire central data platform was complete. Three days ahead of schedule. I took a sip of the now-stone-cold coffee beside me, the bitter liquid a stark contrast to the quiet hum of satisfaction for a first month’s work well done. Only then did I leisurely pick up my phone and unlock the screen. The notification sat there, silent and waiting. [Bank of America] A direct deposit of $2,000.00 was made to your checking account ending in XXXX on Sept 28, 5:31 PM. Your current balance is… My eyes locked onto the number: $2,000.00. My mind went blank, a sudden roar of static in my ears. I read it three times, making sure I wasn’t misplacing the decimal point. Two thousand dollars. Not eighty thousand, not even twenty. Two thousand. It was laughable. An amount that might just cover rent for a tiny studio in this city, yet right now, it felt like a slap in the face, sharp and stinging. The air in the open-plan office grew thin. The rhythmic clatter of keyboards and the low hum of my colleagues’ discussions blurred into a distant, muffled noise, as if heard through thick glass. Arthur Vance’s face, a mask of perfect sincerity, flashed in my mind. “Lynn, you’re not just a talent, you’re a force of nature!” “A million-dollar salary is just the beginning. Apex Dynamics needs a technical visionary like you to lead us.” “I promise you, here you will have absolute authority, complete creative freedom, and a reward that truly matches your worth.” He had visited me three times, his posture lower, his words more earnest with each meeting. The first time was at a coffee shop downstairs from my old company, where he painted a grand vision of Apex Dynamics’ future. The second was at an upscale restaurant with a private room. He dissected the creative bottlenecks I was facing at my current job and promised me a kingdom I could build from the ground up, my way. The third time, he showed up at the entrance of my apartment complex, holding a drafted contract. The night wind whipped at his expensive trench coat, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just held out the folder, the staggering figure on the paper catching the streetlight, his eyes burning with intensity. That sincerity had moved me. That million-dollar promise had certainly turned my head. But now, all of it had been reduced to a cold, four-digit number on my phone screen. A meticulously crafted, exceptionally cruel joke. The blood drained from my face, only to rush back, hot and furious, pounding in my temples. Rage threatened to incinerate my reason, yet my body remained unnervingly calm. I stood up. The wheels of my chair shrieked against the floor from the sudden movement, drawing a few startled glances from nearby coworkers. I ignored them and strode toward the CEO’s corner office at the end of the hall. The sharp click-clack of my heels on the polished marble floor echoed with each step, a hammer blow to my pride. I didn’t even bother to knock. I pushed the door open and walked in. Arthur Vance was leaning back in his enormous leather chair, leisurely sipping a cup of tea. He showed no surprise at my intrusion. He simply raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk I couldn’t decipher. “Ah, Lynn. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. His tone was as casual as if he were inviting a guest for afternoon tea. I didn’t sit. I stood before his massive desk, held up my phone so he could see the screen, and spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “Mr. Vance, I’d like you to explain what this means.” His gaze flickered to my screen for a single second before he looked away, lifting his teacup to gently blow on the surface. “Oh, that,” he said dismissively. “It’s the company’s probationary test for you.” A test? I almost laughed out loud. “A probationary test for a million-dollar salary is a two-thousand-dollar paycheck?” A chill I hadn’t intended crept into my voice. “Now, now, young lady. Don’t be so focused on money,” Arthur said, setting his cup down. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers on the desk, adopting the posture of a wise mentor. “I admit, you’re a talent. But talent needs character, a willingness to be tempered. I need a partner who will stand with the company through thick and thin, not a mercenary who only cares about the next paycheck.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with a condescending, appraising glare. “This test was designed to sand down your sharp edges. I wanted to see how much value you could produce without the lure of a big salary. And I have to say, you did an excellent job this month. I’m very satisfied.” He was satisfied. I heard something inside my chest crack. So the grand gestures were fake. The heartfelt admiration was an act. And the promise, written in black and white, was nothing more than a disposable tool for his little “test.” He wasn’t hiring a lead engineer; he was trying to break a horse he thought was too wild. He’d dangled a million-dollar carrot to lure me into his stable, and now he was offering me a bucket of oats and telling me to learn my place. This wasn’t just about docking pay. This was a complete and utter humiliation. A wave of absurdity washed over me. I looked at this self-important man, at the smug, in-control expression on his face, and I started to laugh. It was a quiet sound that escaped my throat, but it was enough to make the smile on Arthur’s face freeze. He probably wasn’t used to people laughing after being “mentored” like this. “Mr. Vance,” I said, my voice terrifyingly calm. “You earn your own respect. Don’t expect me to give you any.” Without giving him another moment to react, I turned and walked over to the guest computer in the corner of his office. Right in front of him, I opened a browser and logged into my personal email. My fingers flew across the keyboard. I typed out the subject line with deliberate force: Resignation. No lengthy accusations, no emotional tirades. Just a few simple lines: Due to personal reasons, I am resigning my position, effective immediately. Signed, Lynn. Click. Send. The whole process took less than thirty seconds. When I was done, I closed the laptop and looked up at Arthur, who was now on his feet. His expression shifted from confusion to shock, then curdled into offended contempt. “Lynn, what do you think you’re doing? Throwing a tantrum?” His voice had turned cold. “Who do you think you are? An employee who’s been here one month, throwing a fit over a minor test?” “Let me tell you something,” he spat, waving his arm as if delivering a verdict. “The platform makes the person! Without Apex Dynamics, you’re nothing! There’s a line of people out there who would kill to be in your position!” “I’ll give you one chance to retract that email. Get out, cool down, and we can talk tomorrow.” I looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw nothing more than a small man posturing on a big stage. I didn’t say another word. I just gave him one last, cold, emotionless glance. Then I turned and walked out of that suffocating office without looking back. Behind me, I could hear Arthur’s enraged roar. I didn’t even break my stride. As I walked back to my desk, I could feel the atmosphere in the entire tech department shift. The air was thick with whispers, suppressed snickers, and unveiled, gloating stares. My phone vibrated. A coworker had added me to some gossip group chat. “LOL, you guys hear about the million-dollar ‘genius,’ Lynn? Heard her paycheck was only 2k. She totally lost it!” “For real? That’s hilarious. Did she really think the money was that easy to get?” “Classic gold digger getting a reality check. She doesn’t have the skills to back up that kind of salary.” “Vance is a genius for this move. A perfect way to put everyone in their place. No one’s gonna try to negotiate hard after this.” I stared at the malicious words, my face a mask of indifference. I left the group. Then I blocked them. This toxic place. I wouldn’t spend another second here. 2 I had barely sat down at my desk when the HR manager came clicking over in her high heels. She wore a practiced, plastic smile as she slapped a departure checklist on my desk. “Lynn, Mr. Vance said that since you insist on leaving, the company won’t stand in your way. Per company policy, you have one day to complete the full handover of your work.” One day? I scoffed internally. The data platform I was responsible for had over a hundred architectural diagrams alone. The associated databases and API documentation would make a stack taller than a person. Forget one day; even with a full week, a complete newcomer wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of it. This was a deliberate, final twist of the knife. “Understood,” I replied coolly, not even bothering to look up. My composure seemed to irritate her, but she could only turn on her heel and leave in a huff. A few minutes later, the Director of Technology, Leo Price, approached with a younger man in tow. Leo was Arthur Vance’s right-hand man and had viewed me with suspicion and a veiled hostility from day one. “Lynn, this is Mark. He’ll be taking over your responsibilities,” Leo announced, his tone dripping with schadenfreude. The young man, Mark, looked like he was fresh out of college. His eyes held the cocksure arrogance of a kid who thought he knew everything. He glanced at my monitor and sniffed dismissively. “Don’t you worry, Lynn. I’m a fast learner. I’ll get it done.” I said nothing. I simply opened the core architectural diagram of the entire system. The star-chart, composed of thousands of nodes and tens of thousands of intersecting logic lines, spread across my 48-inch curved monitor like an impossibly complex and beautiful labyrinth. The color drained from Mark’s face. The cockiness vanished, replaced by a look of pure, slack-jawed bewilderment. “You… you built all this by yourself?” he stammered. I ignored him and began the handover. For me, the “handover” consisted of listing the server access accounts and database administrator passwords in a document. The bare essentials. As for the core design philosophy, the intricate logic embedded to handle ultra-high concurrency, the maintenance scripts that only I could ever comprehend… I didn’t mention a single word. It wasn’t my obligation. If you think I’m only worth two thousand dollars, then you’ll get a two-thousand-dollar handover. Leo watched for a while, sensing my… lack of cooperation. He let out a cold snort. “Don’t try to play any games, Lynn. You think you’re so important? The company paid for this work; it’s company property. You’d better hand it over properly, or you’ll be in a world of trouble.” I finally stopped typing and looked up, meeting his gaze directly. “Leo, every piece of technical documentation, every version of the design drafts, and every update log has been backed up to the designated server directory, in accordance with the company’s strictest protocols.” My voice was quiet but crystal clear. “Not a single character is missing. As for whether or not the next person can understand it… that’s a matter of their competence.” I paused, my eyes sweeping over him and the pale-faced Mark standing behind him. “Good luck.” Leo was speechless, his face turning the color of raw liver. He probably never expected that I, the person who should have been in tears, begging for my job back, would be so calm, so defiant. He shot me one last hateful glare and stormed off. For the rest of the afternoon, the tech department watched me from a distance. No one came over to ask a question. No one seemed to care about the inner workings of the system they used every single day. All they saw was a “gold digger” making a pathetic exit. I started packing my personal belongings. There wasn’t much. A coffee mug, a small succulent, and a few technical books. I methodically formatted my computer’s hard drive, deleting all browsing history and personal files, ensuring not a single trace of me remained. Before clicking the final “Confirm,” my gaze fell on the code repository statistics. One month. 1.2 million lines of code. That code was like a child I had raised, building a vast and stable empire. I had pulled all-nighters for it, felt a surge of joy with every smooth deployment. And now, I was saying goodbye. A flicker of complex emotion crossed my mind, but it was quickly replaced by an icy calm. The moment this empire betrayed me, its survival was no longer my concern. At six o’clock, I walked out of the gleaming glass doors of Apex Dynamics, holding a small cardboard box. Behind me, the skyscraper’s facade reflected the blinding light of the setting sun. I didn’t look back. Standing on the sidewalk, I took a deep breath of the evening city air, thick with the smell of exhaust fumes. The knot of anger and frustration that had been tightening in my chest finally loosened, exhaled into the dusk. Goodbye, Apex. Goodbye, Arthur. We’re done. 3 The first day after quitting, I slept until I woke up naturally. A sliver of sunlight pierced through a gap in the curtains, casting a bright patch on the floor. I had blocked all calls and messages from Apex, and the world was suddenly, blissfully quiet. I made myself a lavish brunch, then curled up on the sofa and watched a movie I’d been wanting to see for ages. My phone rang in the afternoon. It was an unfamiliar number. I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Hello? Is this Lynn?” A familiar, slightly weary voice came through the line. It was my former boss, the founder of Starlight Technologies, David Chen. “David,” I said, my voice softening instinctively. David was the first boss I ever had, a classic, old-school tech guy with a passion for engineering that bordered on obsession. He was the one who had mentored me, transforming me from a green college grad into a seasoned expert who could lead projects on her own. If Starlight hadn’t run into financial trouble, unable to offer a competitive salary, I never would have considered leaving. “I… I heard you left Apex?” David asked cautiously, as if afraid of treading on a sore spot.

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