The ultimate penalty of the escape room was a mystery box filled with live, crawling roaches. Charlotte, my so-called best friend, shrieked and recoiled in disgust. But as she backed away, she instantly grabbed the hand of Brandon—my boyfriend of five years. She looked at me. “Chloe, you do it. Come on, this is the perfect chance to cure your phobia.” Brandon chimed in, squeezing her hand. “Charlotte’s right, Chloe. You have a panic attack every time you touch something dirty. You need to get over this.” The coworkers around us started chanting. “We all did our parts! Your group is the last one!” Brandon walked over and forced his hand over mine, locking my wrist. “Look at me. Just look at me.” The three of us had been friends for over a decade. They knew damn well this would nearly kill me. I have severe OCD. Mysophobia, to be exact. Since we were kids, Charlotte had been pulling these stunts under the guise of “curing me.” She’d stuff dead bugs into my backpack, or mix spoiled food into my lunch. And Brandon would always back her up, telling me she only had my best interests at heart. But every time I forgave them, it only paved the way for their next, even more ruthless prank. My stomach was churning, acid rising in my throat. But looking at them now, the roaches didn’t even seem like the dirtiest things in this room anymore. Brandon’s grip on my wrist was like iron. Even though my face was paper-white and cold sweat was pouring down my neck, he wouldn’t let go. The moment he finally loosened his grip, I yanked my hand back with everything I had. “See? I told you it wasn’t that hard,” Charlotte clapped, giggling. Brandon smiled, nodding. “Exactly. Overcoming a phobia only takes a second of bravery.” As they both reached out to pat me, I took a massive step back. “Don’t touch me. You’re dirty.”

The entire room went dead silent. Charlotte and Brandon’s hands froze mid-air. A coworker whispered in the back, “What did Chloe just say?” No one answered. Charlotte was the first to break the awkward silence, forcing a laugh to smooth things over. “She’s just startled. It’s fine, guys, don’t take her seriously.” She turned to me, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Chloe, your hands are shaking so bad. Brandon, babe, rub her back. Comfort her a little.” I didn’t look at her. I only stared at Brandon’s hand. That hand had just been squeezing my wrist, his thumb pressing against the inside of my pulse point. That was our secret signal, one we had used for five years. It meant, “Don’t worry, I’m here.” But the very next second, he had let go. All because Charlotte had looked over. I turned on my heel and headed for the exit. “I’m leaving.” No one ran after me. I stood in the dim corridor outside the escape room for a long time. It wasn’t until the game officially ended that the heavy doors finally pushed open again. Charlotte was clinging to Brandon’s arm, laughing and joking with the rest of the team. She spotted me immediately, her grin widening. “Look at her, Brandon. She touches one little dirty thing and goes completely mute. She actually walked out by herself.” The smile on Brandon’s face faded slightly. He walked over and stood beside me. “Are you mad?” “No.” “Then let’s go. I’ll drive you guys home.” When we reached his car, Charlotte naturally opened the passenger door and slid right in. She did it so casually, as if that seat belonged to her. I pulled open the back door, just like I always did. As Brandon started the engine, Charlotte began babbling about how fun the escape room was and who screamed the loudest. Halfway through, she suddenly spun around in her seat and reached back, trying to pat my knee. “Chloe, you were so brave today!” “If we practice a few more times, you’ll definitely be able to live like a normal person.” She leaned further back, her hand moving toward my leg. I slammed myself against the car door, flinching violently away from her touch. Charlotte’s hand swiped empty air. She pouted, looking incredibly hurt. She pulled her hand back, her smile tightening. “I was just trying to compliment you.” Brandon glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Chloe, she’s trying to be nice.” Charlotte turned back around, but a few minutes later, she spoke up again. “Chloe, are you feeling better? Back in the room, did you get that urge to wash your hands again?” “No.” “Liar. You always do that when you touch something gross.” She let out a soft giggle. “But you really did improve today. Remember in middle school? You used to pass out if you saw a bug.” I stared at the textured pattern on the back of the driver’s seat. She remembered that I used to faint. That was exactly why she had pushed that roach box in my face today. When the car pulled up to my apartment building, I opened the door and got out immediately. Brandon rolled down his window. “I’ll pick you up for work tomorrow morning.” “Don’t bother.” “Chloe.” His voice carried a heavy sigh of exasperation. “Stop acting like a child. I’m going to drop Charlotte off now. Wait for me to get back.” I stood on the sidewalk, looking at him. He was wearing the navy-blue jacket I bought him last year. One of the cuff buttons had come loose last week, and Charlotte had been the one to sew it back on. “Okay,” I said quietly. I turned and walked into my building without looking back. The second I stepped inside my apartment, I ripped off my jacket, threw it straight into the laundry basket, and ran to the bathroom. I turned the faucet on high, letting the freezing water rush over my hands. I pumped a massive glob of soap and began scrubbing. Over and over. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Forty minutes. I didn’t stop until the skin on the back of my hands was raw, bright red, and bleeding from the microscopic cracks. As I finally turned off the water, my phone buzzed. It was a notification from Snapchat. Charlotte’s story. I tapped it. It was a group photo from the escape room. Everyone was smiling, except me—because I wasn’t in it. The caption read: “Such an adrenaline rush today! Best squad ever (minus one)!” Someone in the comments asked: “Where’s Chloe?” Charlotte replied with a laughing emoji covering its mouth. I scrolled down. Brandon had liked the post.

The next morning at the office, I pulled open my desk drawer. My fingertips brushed against something cold, slimy, and gelatinous. The repulsive texture sent an instant shockwave through my system. My breathing caught. My stomach violently cramped. The modern office desk in front of me suddenly blurred, transforming into my 8th-grade classroom. I saw the boys laughing as they stuffed dead, rotting insects into my backpack. I saw my teenage self reaching for a textbook, only to pull out a hand covered in green, oozing slime. The entire classroom was roaring with laughter. “Chloe is a slimy freak! Touch her and she pukes!” I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. The physical pain dragged me back to reality. I pulled out a sanitizing wipe. Holding it like a shield, I picked up the stress-ball Charlotte had left in my drawer—the one that had burst and leaked slime everywhere—and threw it into the trash. When I was fifteen, I had completely broken down and cried because someone put a dead rat in my locker. Brandon had shown up. He didn’t say a word. He led me out of the hallway, went into my room, and stayed there for five hours. He threw away everything that had been contaminated and bought me brand-new replacements, arranging them exactly the way they were. The next morning, I woke up to a single text from him. “Your room is clean now. It’s okay if the world is dirty. You have me.” I had kept that promise close to my heart for ten years. “Chloe? Earth to Chloe. What are you daydreaming about? Let’s grab lunch.” Charlotte’s voice shattered my thoughts. At lunch, Charlotte used her own fork to stab a piece of beef from her plate and dropped it onto mine. “Try this. It’s absolutely amazing.” I looked down. The edges of the meat were grayish-green. The color was completely off. I laid my fork down. Charlotte frowned. “What now?” “The meat doesn’t look fresh.” “Oh, come on. Everyone else is eating it. You’re the only one being dramatic.” She turned to Brandon. “Brandon, back me up here.” Brandon glanced at my plate. His lips twitched slightly. “It’s fine. If you think it’s dirty, just throw it away.” Charlotte’s face fell. “Dirty? What do you mean dirty? Chloe, you are literally pathologically sensitive.” I stared at the graying meat. “I can’t eat this.” I pushed the plate away. Charlotte’s expression hardened. “Chloe, I was just trying to share my food with you. How can you be so cynical?” “Is my friendship just ‘dirty’ to you too?” People at the neighboring tables were starting to stare. Brandon reached over and pushed the plate back toward me. “Just eat it, Chloe. Don’t make a scene for Charlotte.” I looked into his eyes. “You honestly think there’s nothing wrong with this meat?” He didn’t answer. He just repeated, “Just eat it.” I picked up my fork. I stabbed the gray meat. I put it in my mouth and swallowed it. Charlotte instantly beamed. “See? I told you you were exaggerating.” Brandon let out a sigh of relief and patted the back of my hand. I immediately ran to the restroom and threw up. I stood over the sink, staring at my pale, ghost-like reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t because of the bad meat. It was because Brandon had seen it too—he knew it was bad—and he still made me swallow it. That afternoon, we had a department sync. Brandon sat next to me. He suddenly leaned in and whispered: “For tomorrow’s client presentation, let Charlotte do the speaking.” I froze. “What?” He tried to soften his words. “Charlotte is great on her feet. I want her to co-present with you.” “You do the slides, she does the talking. How does that sound?” I looked at him, my heart aching. “You think I’m an embarrassment, don’t you?” Brandon was silent for a few seconds, his gaze shifting away. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to push yourself too hard.” He lowered his voice further. “Chloe, just trust me on this.” I didn’t reply. I stood up and walked out of the conference room. That night, I stayed late at the office alone, practicing the presentation deck until midnight. I wiped down my keyboard with rubbing alcohol three times before I started typing. As the alcohol seeped into the raw, cracked skin on the backs of my hands, the pain was blinding.

The next afternoon, the main conference hall was packed. I walked up to the podium, holding the clicker. The massive projector screen lit up. I pressed the button to advance the slide. Everything went smoothly at first. But then, a high-definition, giant close-up of a cockroach filled the entire screen. The audience gasped. I instinctively took a sharp step back, my heart hammering against my ribs. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a Snapchat from Charlotte. “Added a little appetizer to help you train your nerves. Surprise!~” My fingertips went completely numb. My hand was shaking so violently I could barely hold the clicker. “Apologies. A slight technical glitch.” I forced my trembling fingers to double-click the button. The disgusting image disappeared, replaced by our quarterly data charts. For the rest of the presentation, my voice was steady, clear, and articulate. I didn’t miss a single data point. But by the time I walked off the stage, my back was soaked in cold sweat. The room erupted into applause. Even the Regional VP nodded at me in approval. Brandon stood up. “We all know how capable Chloe is,” he announced to the room. “That slide was just a harmless little joke. We’ll handle the technical side internally.” “To cover what Chloe might have missed, Charlotte will now take over for the Q&A.” I watched him. I watched Charlotte walk up to the stage with her USB drive, looking like a victorious queen, taking credit for my hard work. He had still managed to put her on stage. At the after-party that night, the atmosphere was lively. Charlotte was sipping her cocktail, laughing loudly. “You guys have no idea how bad Chloe’s OCD actually is,” she announced to the table. “Back in college, our roommate accidentally touched her water bottle.” “Chloe literally threw the whole flask in the trash and cried under her blanket all night.” The table burst into laughter. “Seriously? That is so extra!” Charlotte nudged Brandon with her elbow. “Brandon, you were there. Tell them, isn’t it true?” Brandon held his glass, his fingers tracing the rim. He shot a quick glance at me but said nothing. I set my glass down and looked straight at her. “Charlotte, I want an apology for the cockroach slide this afternoon.” The laughter at the table died instantly. Charlotte’s smirk froze. Her eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Chloe, it was just a joke…” “I was literally trying to help you overcome your fear. You don’t appreciate it, and now you’re humiliating me in front of everyone?” “That is so hurtful.” Brandon set his drink down, his brow furrowing. “She didn’t mean any harm, Chloe. Besides, your presentation went great, didn’t it?” “Charlotte was just trying to help. Don’t make things ugly.” I looked at Brandon, and the last embers of my love for him turned to ice. Seeing Brandon defend her, Charlotte grew bolder. She pointed toward the dirty, ash-stained tray in the middle of the table. “If you really think I’m trying to hurt you, why don’t you prove you aren’t just being dramatic?” “Go wash this ashtray.” “You wash it, and I’ll apologize.” My stomach turned. I stepped back. “I’m not doing that. Move it away.” “Oh, come on! What are you scared of? Touching it won’t kill you!” Charlotte suddenly grabbed the dirty ashtray and shoved it right into my face. I dodged backward so fast my leg slammed violently against the sharp corner of a chair. A blinding pain shot up my leg. I lost my balance and crashed onto the floor. My knee scraped against the hardwood, blood instantly pooling through my torn tights. With a loud clatter, the dirty ashes and wet cigarette butts from the tray spilled all over my clothes. “Oh my god!” Charlotte shrieked, backing away and waving her hands frantically. “I… I didn’t mean to! Why did you react so dramatically?!” Brandon’s face went pale. He took a step toward me but abruptly stopped. I remembered. He always said we had to “keep things professional” at work events. Instead of helping me up, he pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket and handed them to Charlotte. “Hey, don’t cry. It was an accident.” I didn’t look at either of them. I dragged myself up using the wall for support and walked out to call an Uber. On the ride home, my phone buzzed continuously with texts from Brandon. “I know you felt wronged tonight. Charlotte went too far, but she knows she messed up. She’s crying her eyes out wanting to apologize to you.” Followed by a second text: “But Chloe, think about it. If she hadn’t been pushing you all these years, would we even be this close?” “We are getting married in five days. She’s doing this because she cares about our future.” I stared at the screen and didn’t reply. When I got home, my mother was sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone. On her screen was a Snapchat photo of Charlotte smiling through her tears, surrounded by coworkers comforting her. I limped into the living room. Hearing my footsteps, she looked up. The smile on her face vanished. “Look at Charlotte. She’s so mature, she knows how to handle herself in public. She makes everyone look good!” She threw her phone onto the coffee table. “And look at you. You can’t even finish a simple dinner without throwing a tantrum. You embarrass me!” I stood in the center of the room, looking at her. “Mom, my knee is bleeding.” “Bleeding?” My mother let out a cold sneer. “Your father divorced me because he couldn’t stand your dramatic, high-maintenance OCD! Understood?” “What, are you trying to drive Brandon away now too?” She pointed a finger at me, her voice shrill. “You think you’re hot stuff? You’re lucky Brandon even wants you!” “If Charlotte wasn’t constantly smoothing things over for you, he would have dumped your crazy ass years ago!” “Honestly, Brandon and Charlotte make a much better couple than you two ever will!” I had heard these words so many times I was entirely numb. Without a word, I walked into the bathroom and locked the door. I slid down onto the cold tile floor. I grabbed the showerhead and let the cold water blast over the bloody scrape on my knee. The stinging pain kept me grounded. Under the cover of the rushing water, I dialed my bridesmaid’s number.

Five days later. Our wedding day. I sat in the bridal suite in my white gown, my fingers subconsciously wiping the edge of the vanity over and over. Kathleen, my bridesmaid, stood behind me, adjusting my veil. Her fingers accidentally brushed against the back of my neck, and I instinctively flinched. “It’s just me, Chloe,” she whispered gently. I nodded at her, trying to breathe. The ceremony went by in a blur, and soon, we were at the reception party. Charlotte took the microphone and walked onto the stage, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Family and friends, we are going to play a very special game tonight!” “Blindfolded Touch!” “We are going to blindfold our beautiful bride. Then, we’ll have various men—not just the groom—touch her, and she has to guess which one is Brandon!” She paused, raising her voice over the microphone. “Think of it as a special exposure therapy game!” “Chloe, you’ve been wanting to cure your OCD forever, right? Today is the day!” The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. I froze on the spot, the blood draining from my face. Blindfolded. Touched by random men. I whipped my head toward Brandon, my eyes begging him for help, filled with absolute terror. He looked at the laughing guests, then back at me. He walked over and picked up the black silk ribbon. “Just play along,” he whispered, his voice low. “It’s just a game. Don’t worry, I’m right here.” My vision plunged into total darkness. The sounds around me became distorted and muffled. A rough, calloused hand grabbed my left arm. My entire body locked up. My stomach did a violent flip. Then, another hand stroked down my spine, slow and heavy. I began to hyperventilate, my chest heaving. Someone in the crowd yelled, “Who is it? If you guess wrong, you have to take a shot!” A third hand reached from behind, grabbing the back of my neck. In that fraction of a second, the suffocating trauma of when I was thirteen rushed back, drowning me. “No! Stay away!” I shrieked, ripping the blindfold off. I collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball and wrapping my arms tightly around my head. The room fell silent for a heartbeat, and then an even louder wave of laughter exploded. “Oh my god, she is so dramatic!” “It was just a touch, it’s not like it killed her!” Charlotte was holding her phone up, recording me, laughing so hard she was shaking. At the VIP table, my mother was laughing too, leaning over to talk to our relatives. “I told you she’s too delicate. How is she going to live with a husband if she won’t even let men touch her?” Charlotte crouched down next to me, whispering in my ear. “Chloe, I know you’re scared. But you can’t expect Brandon to walk on eggshells around you forever.” “He’s too good for you. I’m doing this for your own sake, okay?” The moment she finished speaking, Brandon walked over. He didn’t try to help me up. He just stood over me, his forehead creased in irritation. “Chloe. I approved this game.” He looked down at me, his eyes full of disappointment. “I was one of the people who touched you. We’ve been together for five years. Are you telling me you can’t even recognize your own fiancé’s touch?” I slowly let go of my head and stood up. My hands were still trembling, but my eyes were dry. I wasn’t crying. I looked at Charlotte. I looked at Brandon. I looked at my mother. I reached up, unpinned my veil, and tossed it onto the table next to me. I turned to walk away. Brandon rushed forward, grabbing my wrist. “Chloe, stop making a scene.” His voice was a harsh, impatient whisper. “I know you’re mad. We can talk about this when we get home. Don’t make us a laughingstock in front of everyone.” I looked at his hand clamping my wrist. I didn’t say a word. I just yanked my arm back with a cold, terrifying strength. He blinked, startled by my defiance, and instinctively let go. He watched me walk toward the exit, but he didn’t pursue me. In his mind, I just needed some space to cool off. He believed I would crawl back on my own. In the parking lot, Kathleen’s car was already waiting, engine idling. “You finally did it,” she said as I opened the door. “You should have done this five years ago.” I got into the back seat, changed into my regular clothes, and tossed the white wedding dress out onto the pavement. Before the car pulled away, I took one last look at the glittering lights of the hotel. “Let’s go.” Ten minutes later, inside the reception hall. It was time for the wedding toasts. Brandon went to the bridal suite to find me, his face wearing a smug expression of “let’s see how you apologize for this.” The room was completely empty.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442732”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband, Julian Vance, spent forty million dollars at a charity gala to buy back my late mother’s diamond necklace. But the moment he secured it, he turned around and gently fastened it around the neck of his first love, Blair Sterling. He even took the elite medical team reserved for my life-saving treatment and handed them over to her—just because she had slightly sprained her ankle. He looked at me and said, “Sera, you’ve always been the strong, rational one. Blair is terrified of pain. Don’t pick a fight with her over this.” Clutching my terminal cancer diagnosis in my cold hand, I felt an exhausting, bone-deep weariness wash over me. My time was running out. I wouldn’t fight her for him anymore. The lights of the grand ballroom were blindingly bright. I sat in the audience, my fingers ice-cold as I tightly gripped the thin piece of paper in my purse—a diagnosis of late-stage glioblastoma. On stage, the auctioneer slammed his gavel down with ecstatic energy. “Forty million! Congratulations to Mr. Vance for winning this stunning diamond necklace, ‘The First Snow’!” The room erupted into thunderous applause. Every eye in the house turned toward the front row, admiring the tall, devastatingly handsome man in a tailored tuxedo. Julian Vance. My husband. My love of ten years, and my partner in a seven-year marriage. That necklace was my late mother’s most treasured possession. I had been forced to pawn it three years ago when my family’s business collapsed. Julian had promised me that tonight, he would bring it back home. He said it would be our seventh-anniversary gift. I watched him stand up and accept the velvet box from the stage hostess. A fragile, hopeful smile began to form on my lips, and I prepared to stand and greet him. But Julian didn’t walk toward me. He turned, walked straight past my row, and went to the other side of the room where Blair Sterling sat, her eyes red and watery. Under the stunned gaze of the entire high-society crowd, Julian personally draped the necklace—the one carrying all my memories of my mother—around Blair’s neck. “You had a scare today, Blair. Consider this a little gift to soothe your nerves.” His voice, transmitted through the microphone, was deep, gentle, and echoed clearly throughout the massive hall. Blair covered her mouth, tears trembling on her eyelashes as she leaned delicately into his chest. “Julian, this is too expensive… Won’t Sera be angry?” “She won’t.” Julian didn’t even glance back at me. His voice was dismissive, utterly cold. “It’s just a necklace. She’s not that petty.” I sat frozen in my seat. Around me, the whispers of the guests began to pierce my ears like poisoned needles. “Oh my god, the poor Mrs. Vance. Her husband just gifted a priceless heirloom to his ex right in front of her.” “Everyone knows Julian only has eyes for Blair. Seraphina is just a placeholder.” Suddenly, a sharp, blinding pain stabbed through my brain, as if a chainsaw were ripping through my nerves. I gasped and quickly covered my nose. A warm, thick liquid flowed out without warning. Blood. It dripped rapidly through my fingers, staining my custom white gown. It was a horrifying contrast. I didn’t make a sound. Trembling, I pulled a handful of tissues from my clutch, pressed them hard against my face, and stumbled out of the hall through the back exit under the mocking stares of the crowd. Outside, the freezing winter wind slapped my face like a whip. I looked back through the glass doors at the glittering hall. Julian was leaning down, tenderly adjusting a wrap over Blair’s shoulders, treating her like fragile porcelain. “Julian,” I whispered his name, my mouth filling with the bitter, metallic taste of blood. Seraphina. My name meant burning fire, but my life had already burned down to the very end. I was about to become nothing but ash. And he was still spending his millions to keep someone else warm.

When I returned to the cold, echoing mansion we called “home,” I didn’t turn on the lights. I groped my way into the bathroom in the dark. Looking in the mirror, I saw a pale, ghostly face. The nosebleed had stopped, but the dull, pounding pain in my head remained. My doctor’s words echoed in my ears: “Sera, the tumor is pressing against your optic nerve and memory center. You will gradually lose your sight, then your memories, and finally, brain death. At most, you have three months.” Three months. I splashed cold water on my face, pulled the wrinkled diagnosis sheet out of my bag, and was about to lay it on the coffee table when the front door was thrown open. Julian walked in, bringing the chill of the night with him. “Why are the lights off?” He flipped the switch, and the sudden glare made me wince and close my eyes. He marched over to me, his brow furrowed in deep irritation. “Sera, what was that stunt at the gala? Leaving early without saying a word? Are you throwing a tantrum to embarrass me?” I opened my eyes and looked at this man. The man I had loved for a decade. “That necklace belonged to my mother,” I said, my voice so hoarse and cracked that it sounded foreign to my own ears. Julian’s hand paused on his tie. Then, he let out a cold scoff. “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Sera. Blair was tripped by some loose cables backstage and got badly shaken up. What’s wrong with me giving her something to calm her down?” “As my wife, do you really lack this much basic compassion?” “Shaken up?” I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that made my stomach churn with nausea. “She gets a little scared, so she gets my mother’s final heirloom to feel better? Julian, do you even have a heart?” “Enough!” Julian slammed his tie onto the sofa, his eyes flashing icy anger. “Don’t start with your dramatic accusations, Sera. Blair has been physically weak since she was a child. You have everything in the world. Why do you always have to fight her for every little thing?” I had everything? I stared at him, finding his words incredibly absurd. My parents were dead. My family was bankrupt. I had worked myself to the bone helping him build his empire from scratch, destroying my own health in the process. Now, all I had left was a terminal brain cancer diagnosis. And he had the nerve to say I had everything. “Julian, what if I told you I was dying?” I asked, looking straight into his eyes. Julian froze for a fraction of a second. Then, a look of profound disgust swept across his face. “Sera, are you seriously using a fake illness now just because you’re jealous? Your annual health reports are sent directly to my office by my assistant. Aside from some mild anemia, you’re perfectly fine!” “Stop acting. I’m exhausted.” Without even looking at the paper crumpled in my hand, he turned and stormed upstairs, slamming the guest room door shut behind him. I stood alone in the empty, silent living room. My hands and feet felt completely numb. Of course he didn’t know. He never had the time to go to the hospital with me. The assistant he sent to manage my medical records had been bought off by Blair months ago. I slowly opened my fist. The crumpled diagnosis paper was stained with my blood. I walked over to the trash can, opened my hand, and let it go. The paper fluttered down, disappearing into the trash. Since he didn’t want to believe me, there was no point in saying another word.

The next morning, I woke up to a violent wave of nausea. I collapsed over the toilet, throwing up sour fluid mixed with streaks of blood. When I finally stood up, my vision blurred into a gray haze for a terrifying few seconds. I knew my time was slipping away faster than expected. I forced myself to clean up and went downstairs. Julian was sitting at the dining table, sipping his coffee. Seeing me, he actually spoke first—a rare occurrence lately. “This afternoon, I need you to sign over your shares in the Southside Heights Redevelopment Project.” My footsteps halted. I stared at him in disbelief. The Southside Heights project was my blood, sweat, and tears for the past three years. It was my ultimate professional achievement, built on sleepless nights. “Why?” I managed to ask. Julian set his coffee cup down, his tone entirely casual. “Blair wants to learn how to manage a business. She doesn’t have any experience, and the Southside project is already running smoothly. It’s the perfect training ground for her.” “To compensate you, I’ll have fifty million dollars wired to your personal account.” He wanted to hand over my life’s work to his darling Blair as a plaything? I walked over, leaning my hands on the table, staring intensely into his handsome face. “Julian, do you think my life and my hard work exist solely to pave the road for Blair Sterling?” Julian’s brow snapped together. My resistance clearly annoyed him. “Sera, be realistic. Blair is all alone in this city with no family to support her. As her older brother figure, it’s my duty to look after her. You’re already Mrs. Vance. You have everything you could ever want. Why are you greedily hoarding a single project?” “Older brother figure?” I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “What kind of ‘brother’ gifts a forty-million-dollar romantic necklace to his ‘sister’ at a public gala? What kind of ‘brother’ robs his own wife to give to another woman?” “Bam!” Julian slammed his hand on the table and stood up, his expression dark and menacing. “Sera, don’t push your luck! You will sign those shares over whether you like it or not! You don’t call the shots in this family!” He grabbed his suit jacket, turned on his heel, and slammed the front door as he stormed out. The deafening sound vibrated through my ears, and a sharp, agonizing pain erupted in my brain. I collapsed onto the floor, cold sweat instantly soaking through my shirt. My vision plunged into pitch darkness. This time, the darkness lasted for ten agonizing minutes. When light finally crawled back into my eyes, I looked around the massive, empty mansion and let out a soft, hollow laugh. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Julian, you want to give her everything, don’t you? You want to strip me bare for her?” “Fine. I’ll let you.” I pulled out my phone and dialed my lawyer. “Arthur, prepare a divorce agreement for me. Also, liquidate all the assets under my personal name. Sell them immediately, even if it’s below market value.” “Yes. As fast as possible.”

Over the next few days, I moved like a ghost through the city, wrapping up my affairs. I sold my properties, my car, and even the expensive jewelry Julian had gifted me over the years. With the proceeds, I established a trust fund for blind children. Since my own eyes were failing, I wanted to help others see the beauty of the world I was leaving behind. On the fourth afternoon, I walked out of the private clinic after my final session of palliative chemotherapy. I was so weak that my legs trembled with every step. Just as I reached the pavement, a bright red sports car screeched to a halt right in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Blair. She wore oversized designer sunglasses, a sweet but venomous smirk plastered on her face. “Sera! What a coincidence. Are you here for a checkup?” She scanned my pale, skinny frame with smug satisfaction. “Julian told me you’ve been throwing a tantrum lately and told me to ignore you. But I’m just too soft-hearted. I felt bad for you, so I wanted to deliver some news in person.” She took off her sunglasses, grabbed a document from the passenger seat, and tossed it out the window. It fluttered down, landing right at my feet. “The Southside Heights project is officially under my name now.” I stared down at the paper bearing Julian’s personal signature seal. My heart didn’t even ache. It was completely numb. “Blair, does taking my leftovers really bring you this much joy?” I asked quietly. Blair’s smile stiffened for a second, then her smirk widened. “Sera, keep playing tough. Julian’s heart is with me. Your money, your project, your necklace—they are all mine now. All it takes is one tear from me, and he will crush you under his shoe.” “Don’t believe me? Watch. If I call him right now and say I’m feeling dizzy, he will abandon his multi-billion-dollar board meeting and run to my side instantly.” She pulled out her phone, dialed Julian’s number, and switched to speakerphone. “Julian…” her voice instantly transformed into a fragile, breathless whimper. “I’m outside the municipal hospital… I suddenly feel so dizzy, and my chest hurts…” On the other end of the line, Julian’s voice was instantly frantic. In the background, I could hear his executives whispering during a presentation. “Blair? What’s wrong? Don’t panic, I’m on my way! Stay right there!” The call disconnected. Blair looked at me triumphantly. “See? That is exactly how much you matter to him.” I looked at her face, warped by greed and malice, and felt nothing but pity. I didn’t answer her. I turned to hail a cab. But before I could open the passenger door, loud, frantic footsteps echoed behind me. “Sera! What did you do to her?!” I turned around. Julian had arrived in record time. He wasn’t even wearing his suit jacket, his tie was loose, and sweat dripped down his forehead as he rushed over and shielded Blair behind him. He glared at me with pure rage, as if I were a monster. “Blair only came here for a routine checkup! Why did you push her?!” I froze. “Push her?” I looked at Blair standing perfectly fine behind him, clutching her chest with tears streaming down her face. “Julian, please don’t blame Sera… I just lost my balance… She’s just angry with me, so she barely touched me…” Her acting was truly Oscar-worthy. “Julian, with which eye did you see me push her?” I asked coldly. “If you didn’t push her, why is she having chest pains? Sera, your jealousy has turned you into an unrecognizable, bitter hag!” Julian roared. Another wave of agony hit my head. The world spun, and I had to grip the car door tightly to keep from collapsing. “Believe whatever you want.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. I bent down and climbed into the cab. “Driver, please go.” As the taxi pulled away, I looked in the rearview mirror. Julian was lifting Blair into his arms, carrying her frantically toward the emergency room. He didn’t even notice the small pool of fresh blood left on the concrete where I had been standing.

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I had been with Ethan for three years, and he had one unbreakable habit. Every night at ten-thirty, he would send me a sixty-second voice memo. It was always him reading romantic poems or classic prose. I treasured those voice memos like they were priceless gold. I saved every single one in a Snapchat folder named “Ethan’s Lullabies.” I really thought it was his own special, romantic way of loving me. Until I was planning our wedding, and I found a private podcast on my best friend Chloe’s iPad. There were over seven hundred audio files in there. The poems, the tone, even the tiny rustle of pages turning in the background—they were identical to the ones in my folder. The only difference was the timestamp. She received them an hour and a half earlier than I did every single night. As it turned out, the exclusive romance I treasured was just a second-hand forward, sent to me after he was done comforting someone else. I stared at the playlist of that private podcast on the iPad screen, my fingers shaking uncontrollably. “My sweet Chloe, here’s a little Shakespeare for you tonight. Sleep tight, beautiful.” Ethan’s deep, velvety voice came through the headphones, carrying a hint of lazy tenderness. In the background, there was a faint, distinct click of a Zippo lighter. I knew that sound too well. Because on my phone, inside the “Ethan’s Lullabies” folder, there was a voice memo that sounded exactly like this. Even the lighter clicked at the exact same second. My hands trembled as I clicked on the upload history. Seven hundred and thirty audio files. Every single one was uploaded at 9:00 PM. And I always received Ethan’s voice memos at 10:30 PM. For three years, over a thousand days and nights. He had been recording these sweet lullabies for Chloe at nine, and then, like checking off a chore on his to-do list, he forwarded the exact same audio file to me ninety minutes later. The deep love I thought we had, the special ritual I thought was ours alone… was just a massive, pathetic lie. A wave of intense nausea hit my stomach. I ripped the headphones off and gasped for air. Chloe’s iPad screen was still glowing. She had lent it to me half an hour ago to pick some background music for my wedding. She probably forgot to log out of her private account. Or maybe, she did it on purpose. The front door lock beeped. Ethan walked in, bringing the chilly autumn breeze with him. He was holding a beautiful, vintage paper shopping bag. Seeing me on the couch, he immediately offered a warm smile. “Freya, look what I got for you.” He took off his shoes, walked over, and handed me the bag. “That limited-edition vintage Leica camera you mentioned once? I pulled a lot of strings to get it from a collector in Japan. A pre-wedding gift for my beautiful bride.” Ethan’s eyes sparkled with a desperate desire to please me. He leaned in, trying to kiss my cheek out of habit. I instinctively leaned back, avoiding his touch. There was a faint scent of woody rose perfume on him. It was Chloe’s favorite brand—a niche, strong fragrance that lingered for hours. Ethan froze mid-air, a flash of confusion crossing his eyes, but he quickly recovered. “What’s wrong? Stressing out over the wedding plans?” He gently stroked my hair. I didn’t say a word. My eyes fell on the Leica camera. On its brass edge, there was a tiny, sharp scratch, like it had been scraped by a manicured nail. Just ten minutes ago, Chloe had posted a picture on her close friends’ Instagram story. It was the exact same Leica camera, with the exact same scratch on the corner. Her caption read: [A priceless vintage piece to others, but to me, just a little token of his everyday indulgence.] Looking at that scratch made my eyes sting like crazy. “Where did you get this camera?” My voice was flat, like a dead pool of water. Ethan walked over to the kitchen island and poured himself a glass of water, completely unfazed. “A friend shipped it to my office. I just grabbed it on my way home. Do you like it?” He didn’t even bother to make up a decent lie. Watching him drink water, I suddenly felt that this man, whom I had loved for three years, was a complete stranger. Right then, Ethan’s phone on the counter lit up. Caller ID: Chloe. Without hesitation, he picked up the call right in front of me and even put it on speaker. “Ethan…” Chloe’s voice came through, filled with tears and panic. “The pipe under my sink just burst! There’s water everywhere, and the landlord isn’t picking up. I’m so scared. Can you please come over?” Ethan’s brows knitted instantly. He checked the wall clock. “Don’t panic. Shut off the main water valve first, go stand somewhere dry, and wait for me. I’m on my way.” He hung up, turned to me, and spoke in a tone that left no room for argument. “Freya, Chloe has an emergency. Her pipes burst, and she can’t handle it alone. I’ll go help her out real quick and come right back.” I leaned back on the couch, looking at him coldly. “If her pipes burst, she should call a plumber, her landlord, or emergency maintenance. Are you a licensed plumber now, Ethan?” Ethan froze. For the past three years, I had never spoken to him in such a sharp tone. I had always been the sweet, understanding fiancée. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping into an impatient, patronizing sigh. “Freya, stop being difficult. Chloe is your best friend. She’s all alone in this city. What’s wrong with me helping her out when she’s in trouble? Since when did you become so heartless?” As he spoke, he pulled a velvet Bvlgari box from his pocket and placed it in front of me. “I bought you this necklace on my way home. Be good, wait for me. I’ll come back to keep you company as soon as I fix this.” With that, he grabbed his car keys and walked out without looking back. As the front door slammed shut, the entire apartment fell into a dead silence. I looked at the Bvlgari box, then at the second-hand Leica camera, and suddenly let out a laugh. Tears streamed down my face, burning hot against my skin. I didn’t touch the jewelry box. Instead, I grabbed my phone and dialed the HR director at our Milan headquarters. A month ago, the company had offered me a promotion to be the Design Director for the Milan region. I had turned it down without a second thought because of my wedding with Ethan. “Hi Lisa, sorry for calling so late. Is that Director position in Milan still open?” There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by an excited voice. “Of course it is! Freya, did you change your mind?” “Yes. I accept the relocation. The sooner I can start, the better.” After hanging up, I went into my study. I took all the audio files from Chloe’s private podcast and the screenshot of her Instagram story, and backed them all up into an encrypted cloud drive. At 10:30 PM. My phone buzzed right on time. Ethan had sent a sixty-second voice memo. I clicked it. It was him reading Shakespeare. In the background, the sharp click of the lighter sounded louder than ever. And ninety minutes ago, this exact audio had already been safely uploaded to Chloe’s private podcast.

The next afternoon was our scheduled wedding dress fitting. Ethan showed up on time at the luxury bridal boutique, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, Chloe was standing right next to him. Chloe was wearing a chic Chanel-style tweed set, her makeup flawless. She showed absolutely no signs of the “water pipe trauma” from last night. “Freya, thank God Ethan came over last night, or my apartment would have been a swimming pool. I came today to help you pick your wedding gown to make it up to you!” Chloe reached out to grab my arm affectionately, but I took a step back, dodging her touch smoothly. She didn’t even look embarrassed. Instead, her eyes started wandering over the expensive custom gowns in the boutique. The designer walked over with a warm smile, bringing down the custom gown I had ordered six months ago. “Miss Miller, your wedding gown is ready for the final waist adjustments. You can try it on in the fitting room first.” Just as I was about to take the gown, Chloe let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my gosh! This velvet cape is absolutely gorgeous!” She pointed to a dark emerald velvet cape on a nearby mannequin, embroidered with intricate gold threads. It was breathtakingly luxurious. “That’s Miss Miller’s custom-ordered cape. The gold embroidery is entirely hand-stitched. It took our artisans three months to finish,” the designer introduced proudly. Chloe bit her lower lip, her eyes filled with envy and a sudden, forced sadness. “It’s so beautiful… I guess girls like me will never get to wear something this perfect in our entire lives.” Seeing this, Ethan immediately turned to me and said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “Freya, that cape looks pretty loose anyway. Since Chloe loves it so much, why don’t you let her try it on first? You two are about the same size.” The designer’s smile froze, and she looked at me awkwardly. I stopped in my tracks and stared coldly at Ethan. “This is my custom couture. I don’t share things that touch my skin.” Ethan’s brows furrowed instantly, clearly feeling like I had embarrassed him in front of others. “It’s just trying it on, it’s not going to ruin it. Since when did you become so petty? Chloe just wants to see how it looks. Can’t you just do this small favor for your best friend?” Chloe quickly waved her hands, her eyes turning red as she played the victim. “It’s fine, Ethan. Freya doesn’t like people touching her things. I won’t try it. I don’t want to make her mad.” The more she played the victim, the more Ethan thought I was being unreasonable. He walked right past me and ordered the designer, “Take that cape down and let her try it on.” The designer had no choice but to carefully remove the cape and drape it over Chloe’s shoulders. Chloe walked to the full-length mirror, turning left and right. Her eyes were filled with the smug satisfaction of winning. Ethan stood behind her, watching her reflection. His gaze was deep, and his throat bobbed slightly. He had completely forgotten that today was supposed to be his fiancée’s fitting day. Right then, Chloe reached out to touch the gold embroidery on the cape. “Oh!” With a sharp gasp, there was a sickening rip. The massive, cluster-diamond ring on Chloe’s ring finger had snagged hard on the gold threads of the cape. She had pulled too quickly, ripping a long tear right through the custom embroidery. The expensive velvet fabric was ruined. “Oh my goodness!” The designer gasped in horror. Ethan’s first reaction wasn’t to look at the six-figure custom cape. Instead, he grabbed Chloe’s hand frantically. “Did you hurt your hand? Did the ring scratch your finger?” Chloe shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she looked at me in terror. “Freya, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to. I didn’t know my ring would snag… How much is the cape? I’ll pay you back!” Ethan immediately shielded her behind his back, like a knight protecting his princess. “Pay for what? It’s just a piece of clothing. Freya won’t hold this against you.” He turned to me, his tone commanding and dismissive. “Since this one is ruined, just throw it away. Go pick a more expensive one, and I’ll pay for it.” With that, he pulled out his phone and Venmoed me fifteen thousand dollars. The notification chimed loudly in the quiet boutique, sounding incredibly mocking. I looked down at the transaction on my screen, finding the whole situation absolutely ridiculous. Three months of artisan handwork, my months of excitement… to him, it was just trash that could be replaced with a quick Venmo transfer. “No need. This one is fine.” Without even entering the fitting room, I turned around and walked out the door. “Freya! What kind of tantrum are you throwing now? I said I’d buy you a new one! When are you going to stop being so dramatic?” Ethan yelled from behind. I ignored him, pushed open the door, and walked out. Standing in the cold autumn wind, I pulled out my phone and called my sales rep at the Porsche dealership. “Hey Marcus, that Macan I ordered… if I transfer the lease to someone else right now, can we close the deal today? Yes, original price. I’ll pay the transfer fees. Just make it quick.” I hung up and glanced back at the boutique’s glass window. Ethan was holding a tissue, gently wiping away Chloe’s tears. I let out a cold laugh, hailed a cab, and drove away.

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The last time I called Mom, I had not eaten anything for seven days. When I was five, Mom and Dad adopted a girl from a remote fishing village. From that day on, she slept in my room, wore my dresses, and called my mom and dad hers. And I was sent back to the fishing village where she had grown up. I lived with her grandmother, who had Alzheimer’s. Mom said: “She suffered too much growing up.” “You’ve never suffered before, so you should get a taste of it too.” Before I left, Dad ordered me to take good care of the confused grandmother and watch the house and yard. After Grandma threw my food to the dog again, I finally could not take it anymore and called Mom to ask for something to eat. She was terribly annoyed. “How come Clara can endure hardship, but you can’t?” “The sea is all around you, so if you’re hungry, go catch fish in the water!” I obediently listened and went into the sea to catch fish. But while I was swimming in the sea to catch fish, a fisherman mistook me for a big fish and speared me to death. It was not until three years later that Mom came to pick me up. “Anna, I’m here to take you home.”

There was a pile of bones in the center of the room, and a rusty fishing spear lay on top of it. She kicked it without the slightest concern. The window glass was shattered, and the sea wind poured in. The excrement of the grandmother with Alzheimer’s was everywhere. Grandma was curled up in a pile of tattered bedding, dazed, drool constantly running from her mouth. Mom, Sophia, frowned, covered her nose, waved at the foul smell in the air, and could not help complaining: “Why is this place like a dump? Don’t you know how to clean?” “Anna! Get out here and clean this up!” Sophia looked around, and her voice calling my name grew louder and louder. I happily threw myself at her, but I hugged nothing, passing through her body like air. I forgot again. I had died three years ago. After hoping and waiting so long, I had finally waited until Mom came back. She was carrying cookies and cake, and I was so greedy that I almost drooled. I felt happy inside, thinking Mom still had me in her heart, and she had finally come to take me home. I jumped around beside her happily: “Mom, I’m here, I’m right here.” Her phone rang, and unable to stand the stench in the house, she went outside to answer it. I immediately followed her. “Baby, be good. Mom will be back soon. I’m picking up your sister.” “Mom bought you your favorite cookies and cake, all the things you love.” “Okay, okay, I’ll be back in a little while, and tonight Mom will hold you while you sleep.” I froze, and my excited heart instantly turned icy cold, as if a basin of cold water had been poured over it. So those cookies and cakes were bought for my younger sister. I waved my arms in grievance and roared at her: “I’m your biological daughter, so why don’t you love me?” “I was clearly more obedient than my adopted sister, so if you didn’t like me, why did you give birth to me?” She could not hear anything and turned back into the house with a disgusted look on her face. “Mom! Where is Anna? What’s going on? I’ve been calling for so long, and there’s no response!” Her tone began to grow impatient, and she raised her hand to check the expensive watch on her wrist, clearly anxious to hurry back. I squatted on the ground, like the year I had almost starved to death, too powerless to hate. For someone who does not love you, even overwhelming love is like punching cotton. So my adopted sister was already this old, and Mom would still hold her while she slept. But when I was five, after they adopted my sister and brought her home, I was sent to the fishing village and made to sleep with the grandmother who had Alzheimer’s. When Grandma’s illness acted up, she was like a violent thug and would beat me until I was covered in bruises. I cried so hard that snot bubbled from my nose as I clung to Sophia’s leg and begged bitterly: “Mom, please, take me home. I don’t want to stay here.” She frowned, her whole face saying I was being spoiled: “You’re the older sister, so you need to be sensible. Your sister just came to our home, and everything is unfamiliar to her, so she needs more care.” “Don’t be naughty and provoke Grandma, and she won’t hit you. Clara’s grandmother is sick, and Clara endured it all, so you can too.” She always said I could do it too, so I had to shoulder so many things that a child my age should never have had to bear. From then on, I never knew again what Mom’s bed or Mom’s embrace smelled like. “Anna, Anna catching bugs, a whole bunch, dead child…” Grandma was not clear-headed, and she could not recognize my mom as she slowly muttered to herself. My mom stopped looking for me and stared at the ruined house in disgust, nagging: “She’s still as naughty as she was when she was little! Not quiet and graceful like Clara at all.” “What kind of girl catches bugs? She made the room dirtier than a doghouse.” “She’s such a big girl now, but she has no sense of hygiene at all!” “And she’s always trying to come home with me. With how sloppy she is, she really has been spoiled rotten by me…” She let out a heavy sigh. It was full of disappointment in me. My heart felt as if a hole had been torn through it, and the pain made even my soul tremble. But Mom, I caught bugs because there was nothing to eat at home. Grandma and I were so hungry that we were weak, and we really could not get any thinner, so I caught bugs. I was so scared that I wailed, but I still did not dare let go. To fight birds for bugs, I climbed very high up trees and often fell down. Even if I managed to catch a bug and roast it, I could not bear to eat it myself. Instead, I saved it for Grandma, and only after Grandma was full could I eat. But Grandma was never full, and she even got so hungry that she bit a chunk of flesh from my leg. Even after becoming a ghost, the spot where that piece of flesh was bitten away from my leg was still hollow. Many families in the fishing village had moved away, and now only Grandma remained in this broken-down house. After I went into the sea to catch fish and was speared to death by a fisherman, the former village chief thought my parents had picked me up. Seeing how pitiful Grandma was, he would deliver food every week, and sometimes once every two weeks. That was how Grandma survived.

Sophia could not bear the foul smell and retched in nausea for a while. She really could not stay any longer, so she hurriedly opened her exquisite Louis Vuitton bag, took out five hundred dollars, and placed it on the trash-covered table. There was a plate of fat dead bugs on the table, already covered in mold and giving off waves of stench. Sophia ran outside in disgust and threw up for a long time. “Anna, dead child, dead child, give me bugs… big fat bugs…” Grandma chased after her, barefoot, hunched over, dirty and disheveled, like a madwoman. Before she even got close, that thick stench filled the air. My mom reached out to stop her. “Don’t come over here. You stink!” “I put five hundred dollars in living expenses on the table for you and Anna, so tell her to spend it carefully.” “I’ll come see her again next time.” My soul followed them outside too, numb as I watched her disgusted expression. Just as she was about to hurry away, a video call came to her phone, and the contact name was Husband. “I didn’t see Anna. She seems to have gone out to catch bugs. She’s so old, yet still so naughty.” Sophia’s tone was full of disgust as she summarized what she had seen in a few words. I leaned closer and saw Dad in the video. His hair was slicked back and shiny, he wore an expensive suit, and his skin looked good. His whole body gave off the rich air of someone raised by money. The house behind him was bright and exquisitely decorated. My heart felt sour, because this good life had once belonged to me. It was just that after they adopted my sister, Mom and Dad felt that ordinary me was too spoiled, so they sent me here to receive hardship education. I did not dare call them often, afraid they would think I was delicate, and the only time I called was seven days before I starved to death. Maybe after suffering too much pain, nothing could stir up much emotion anymore. I just stood numbly beside Sophia. “Honey, I thought about it, and shouldn’t we bring Anna to the city now?” “Anna is eight, and it’s inconvenient for her to go to school there.” My shattered heart was instantly stitched together a little, and tears of surprise filled my eyes. Mom did not love me, but Dad still cared about me. I stared at Dad and smiled. Even though he could not see me. Sophia let out a deep sigh, and her tone was disappointed, disgusted, and hopeless. She covered her nose and walked into the house, aiming the camera inside: “Look, Anna made the house look like a dump.” “I want to take her back too, but look at how filthy she is. How can we take her?” I felt extremely wronged and said dully: “I’m not filthy.” What could a five-year-old child do? I had been dead for three years, and you still did not know. “Let me see my sister’s house, let me see!” A lively and cheerful voice came through, and a seven-year-old girl with two pretty braids appeared in the video. She was my adopted sister, Clara. She had been raised very well, wearing a beautiful princess dress, her skin tender like a peeled egg. She was confident and lively, like a little princess from a wealthy family. Her smile disappeared when she saw the ruined house in the video, and her disgusted expression was exactly like Sophia’s. “It’s so dirty. Even a dump isn’t this dirty.” “I won’t let her come to our house. Someone this unhygienic will definitely bring lots of germs!” But the fishing village I was in had clearly been her former home. Ethan quickly pulled Clara into his arms and coaxed her: “Okay, okay, we’ll listen to our little princess and not bring your sister here yet.” “We’ll have your sister fix all her hygiene habits, and after she becomes a clean little kid, we’ll bring her here, okay?” Clara pouted proudly and pulled Ethan’s hand to the side: “Let her see my room. When she makes her room as pretty and clean as mine, then you can bring her here.” With a great sense of superiority, Clara showed every corner of her room to the camera. “Mom, let her see what a girl’s room should look like.” “I don’t want a sister who lives in a trash heap.” I stared without blinking at Clara’s room, because it had once been my bedroom. The room was decorated cutely and brightly, and a cabinet of toys and figurines was arranged neatly inside. Her room was very big, connected to a transparent walk-in closet. All kinds of dazzling clothes hung inside. Even the carpet in the room was snowy white and fluffy, like walking on clouds. I just watched, my mind completely blank. My heart, riddled with wounds, could not muster even the slightest strength to hate or resent.

“Your sister is only like this because she’s in the fishing village. Once she comes to the city, she won’t be like this anymore.” “When your sister comes, there’ll be one more person to play with you and one more person to take care of you. Wouldn’t that be great?” Ethan’s words coaxing Clara stabbed into my heart like knives. I hated that sentence with everything I had: you’re the older sister, and you enjoyed good days for many years, so you should give way to your adopted sister and let your adopted sister live a good life. After the video call ended, my mom took a pen and paper from her bag. She wrote a few lines on it: “Anna, Mom will go back for now this time.” “You made the house far too dirty and messy, so Mom will give you one month to clean both the house and yourself.” “One month later, Mom will come to inspect it, and if the hygiene is up to standard, Mom will take you home.” “If it isn’t up to standard, you’ll stay here and continue reforming yourself.” After writing it, she looked at the house not far away and hesitated, then stuffed the note into Grandma’s drafty pocket: “This note is for Anna, so you must make sure she sees it.” “I’ll go back for now this time, and tell Anna I’ll come again in one month.” After saying that, she hurried away without looking back. I watched her back, smiling until I started crying. Grandma stared dazedly at her back for a long time. “Grandma, go back inside. Don’t stay out here in the sun.” The scorching sun made sweat pour from her head, but she stared blankly and did not know to wipe it away. Maybe she was also just lucky, because after getting heatstroke several times, she had managed to survive. “Anna… Anna, catching bugs, playing, dead child, sea, fish.” She began talking nonsense again. I watched helplessly as she was left to fend for herself, just like I had once been. Even though she was not my biological grandmother, I still did not want to watch her fend for herself the way I once had. But I was powerless. I ran into the house and anxiously reached out to clean the room. But my hands could not pick up anything, and I stomped my feet and cried in panic. “I can’t help you anymore. What do I do? What do I do?” But she cheerfully picked up the maggot-infested food from the table and began eating. I cried even louder at the top of my lungs, trying to make her hear my voice. But everything was in vain. One month later, Sophia and Ethan came back together. This time, their hands were empty. I pouted and complained, “What are you coming back for? Only Clara is your precious baby, so don’t come back here and disgust me.” They could not hear anything, but I heard plenty of them complaining that I was sloppy and disobedient. It just so happened that the village chief came to deliver food to Grandma. He knew Grandma could not cook, so he only brought food enough for one day, with meat and vegetables, and the meat was stewed very soft so Grandma could chew it. The rest was water, bread, and other instant food. When the village chief saw my dad, he asked curiously: “Is the Clara you adopted never coming back? Then are you responsible for taking care of her grandmother?” My mom said, “Anna is still here, so we sent her here to train herself a little.” The confusion on the village chief’s face grew deeper. Sophia looked at the room that had not been cleaned at all, covered her nose, and said in disgust again: “Why does this child Anna never change no matter how many times she’s taught? I told her to clean the place up, and then I’d come get her!” “She actually didn’t clean up at all! This child really can make a person furious!” Ethan could not help feeling nauseated either, but in front of others, he held it back. The village chief looked suspicious. “Wasn’t Anna taken to the city by you a few years ago?”

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The night Ethan won the NCAA Championship, he celebrated by kissing the head cheerleader in front of the entire arena. Everyone waited for me to lose my mind. Instead, I was wearing his teammate Logan’s jersey, lying in his bed. Later, I became Logan’s girlfriend. Ethan didn’t realize he’d lost me until it was too late. When he finally saw us together, he crushed a whiskey glass in his bare hand, his eyes red with regret. “Chloe… you were supposed to be mine.” The final buzzer sounded, and the entire ice arena erupted into chaos. Ethan was about to confess his love to that gorgeous cheerleader. He had warned his teammates beforehand, making sure everyone kept me in the dark. What he didn’t know was that some drama-loving bystander had already DM’d me the whole plan on Snapchat. After all, everyone on the varsity hockey team knew I was head over heels for Ethan. My biggest dream was to be his girlfriend. So, the moment Ethan fell in love at first sight and confessed to another girl… I was supposed to rush down to the ice, crying, screaming, and making a total fool of myself. The crowd in the stands was practically drooling, waiting for me to lose my mind and crash the party. Too bad for them. Even after their high-profile kiss ended, I still hadn’t shown up. The crowd outside the rink started to lose interest when no drama happened. Even Ethan’s face didn’t look all that happy. He wrapped his arm around his new girlfriend and pulled out his phone. Not a single call. Not a single text. Ethan frowned slightly. He slid his phone away and held the trophy high above his head. “Tonight, we celebrate! Afterparty at the bar, on me!” The players and students in the arena instantly cheered. I pushed open the glass door of the players’ tunnel and walked out. Someone with sharp eyes spotted me and immediately yelled. “Look, it’s Chloe! Chloe’s here!” “I knew it! There’s no way Chloe could resist coming!” Ethan snapped his head up. The moment he saw me, the corners of his lips twitched into a smug, barely noticeable smirk. I ignored the crowd waiting for a show. With Logan’s jacket barely covering my thighs, I walked straight up to Ethan. “Chloe.” Ethan, still in his full hockey gear, held the trophy in one hand and pulled his new girlfriend tighter with the other. He looked down at me, his voice flat. “You can’t force feelings.” “We’ve known each other for over ten years, and I don’t want to say anything too harsh to ruin our history. We can still be friends.” “If you ever need help, you can still come to me.” Then, he lowered his voice, leaning in: “Everyone is watching. Don’t make a scene. Go home.” “Go home and change. What the hell are you even wearing?” “Ethan.” I cut him off, taking a slow step forward. He frowned again. “Chloe, be reasonable.” I smiled, pulled out my phone, pulled up a billing page, and turned the screen toward him. “This is the money I advanced for your custom hockey sticks and protective gear.” I stared straight into his eyes. “Pay me back. Now.” Ethan’s face instantly darkened as he stared at the screen. “Chloe, what kind of game are you playing now?” “You really will do anything to get my attention, won’t you? Digging up old receipts?” Ethan stared at me, convinced I was just throwing a tantrum. “I don’t care about this pocket change. If you’re that desperate for money, I’ll Venmo you double.” He pulled out his phone. “No need for double. Just the original amount is fine.” “I’m blocking you after this.” “From now on, your new girlfriend can handle all your annoying chores.” With that, I didn’t give him another glance. I turned around and walked away.

Ethan stood frozen on the ice until my figure vanished from sight. His face was still incredibly tense. His teammates quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Man, Chloe is just trying to save face. Don’t take it seriously.” “Trust me, Ethan, she’ll regret this before the night is over.” “She’ll probably come crawling back to you crying tonight.” Ethan let out a cold laugh. “Let her play her games.” “If we hadn’t grown up together, I wouldn’t have tolerated her for this long.” “Alright, alright, don’t let her ruin the mood. We won the championship tonight, let’s party!” Ethan looked at the hot cheerleader next to him. He quickly threw my annoying face to the back of his mind. He knew that by tomorrow’s training session, I would show up like nothing had happened. I would be sitting in the very front row. Holding water and a towel, waiting like a puppy for him to finish practice. He had seen this exact script play out way too many times over the years. By the time I walked out of the arena, the rain was pouring. I stood under my umbrella, thinking about the terrifying nightmares I had been having lately. In those dreams, because Ethan confessed to Brianna… I threw a massive fit. To force him to break up with her, I ran out onto the highway in the middle of the night. And what happened? I was hit by a speeding SUV. I broke two ribs and almost died. Ethan only stayed at the hospital for five minutes before leaving me. They forced me to drop out of college and sent me back to my alcoholic parents. In the end, I died miserably in a trashy, run-down apartment. And after I died, the one who came to collect my broken body was actually the man I had always avoided and feared. Ethan never showed up. Not once. Over the past few days, everything from those nightmares had started coming true. If it weren’t for those warnings, I would have thrown my umbrella away by now, spam-calling Ethan’s phone, ready to throw another suicidal tantrum on the road. I was so grateful for those dreams. It felt like a second chance at life. I could finally rewrite my miserable fate, step by step. On my third try, the call finally went through. I gripped my phone tightly, pressing it to my ear. The name *Logan Vance* lingered on the tip of my tongue before I slowly spoke it aloud. The heavy rain drowned out the noise of the world. Through the receiver, Logan’s deep, slightly tired voice came through. “Chloe?” “Logan, it’s raining so hard.” “I’m stuck outside the arena. Can you come pick me up?”

The other end went dead silent for a few seconds. I gripped the umbrella handle so hard my palm began to sweat. In my dream, when Logan collected my body, he cried. A man who was absolutely ruthless on the ice rink had cried like a baby for the first time. Later, he changed his jersey number to my birthday, stepped over Ethan, and climbed to the absolute peak of the professional league. My eyes welled up with tears, and a small sob escaped my throat. “Why are you crying?” Logan’s voice suddenly cut through. It was still cold, even slightly impatient. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t come.” “When will you be here?” “Wait there. Twenty minutes.” “Okay. I’ll wait for you, Logan.” He didn’t say another word and hung up. By the time Logan arrived, I was completely soaked. He got out of the car, his thin lips pressed into a tight line, his expression icy. I brushed away my wet bangs and looked up at him with a bright smile. “Logan, you’re so on time.” “Chloe, are you trying to get yourself killed by being this stupid?” With a tense face, he grabbed my arm, shoved me into the passenger seat, and tossed a soft blanket over me. “Dry yourself off. Don’t ruin my car.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror and smoothly put the car in drive. “Oh.” I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket like a good girl. I couldn’t help but steal glances at him while he focused on the road. When he had no expression, he always looked incredibly distant and intimidating. Plenty of girls at school liked him, but none of them dared to confess. He and Ethan were not just roommates; they were rivals on the ice. Back then, I used to go to the locker room every single day to bring Ethan milk. Every time I went, Logan looked like he absolutely loathed me, slamming his locker door shut with an icy glare. Even now, though he came to rescue me, he was still acting so cold. When he shoved me into the car earlier, his grip was so tight. My wrist was still throbbing, leaving a faint red mark. It was impossible to tell that this guy had been secretly in love with me for years. Everything in the dream had happened exactly as predicted. But now, because of my changes, the timeline was shifting. Would Logan still love me? If he didn’t actually like me, wouldn’t my sudden behavior just be a massive annoyance to him? “Back to the dorms?” Logan suddenly turned his head to glance at me. My heart skipped a beat, and before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. “No. To your place.” Logan gripped the steering wheel, letting out a mocking chuckle. “Ethan’s having a huge championship party tonight.” “Are you trying to use me to make him jealous?” I gripped the edge of the blanket, twisting it tighter and tighter. “I’m not.” The car suddenly screeched to a halt by the curb. Logan turned his body toward me, the coldness in his eyes making my chest tighten. “Chloe, don’t bring me into whatever sick game you’re playing with him.” “I’m not…” He stared at me for a long second, then pulled out his phone. “I’ll call you an Uber. Go back yourself.” “Logan…” I bit my lip hard, reaching over to snatch his phone away. He stared at me, but his eyes didn’t hold anger or disgust. Instead, they were incredibly dark, swirling with emotions he was trying to hide. Suddenly, a wave of sadness washed over me. “Logan, I don’t want to go back to the dorms. Everyone is laughing at me.” “And I’m scared to go home.” “Can you… can you just let me stay at your off-campus apartment for tonight?” I hid his phone behind my back, my voice growing softer and softer. “I won’t bother you. I’m just… my clothes are completely soaked.” The moment I finished speaking, tears rolled down my cheeks. One by one, silent and heavy. Logan didn’t say another word to me. But he started the car again. He drove toward his apartment.

I followed Logan into his apartment. He walked over to his closet, pulled out a clean training jersey, and tossed it to me. “Bathroom’s over there.” He was tall, so his jersey was massive on me. It barely covered my thighs. After my shower, I threw the jersey on and walked out. Logan took one look at me and immediately averted his eyes. I walked over to his bed and sat down. My damp, long hair dripped, quickly wetting his sheets. I smelled completely like Logan now—his shampoo, his body wash. In this small, enclosed space, a thick, unspoken tension began to brew. Logan grabbed his pack of cigarettes and cleared his throat. “I’m going out for a smoke.” He walked out onto the balcony. I looked around his room with curiosity. Light gray sheets, neat and clean. A black gear bag sat half-open in the corner. Just as I was about to look at the trinkets on his desk, my phone suddenly rang. Ethan’s name flashed on the screen. I didn’t pick up. He immediately called again. I had blocked him on Snapchat, but I had forgotten to block his actual number. I quickly blocked his number too and threw my phone back into my bag. “Logan.” I called out toward the balcony. He quickly turned around, stubbed out his cigarette, and walked back in. “What?” I sat on the bed, having to tilt my head up to look at him. Logan locked eyes with me for two seconds before looking away again. But I noticed the tips of his ears were turning a faint shade of red. “I got your bed wet. What should I do?” He glanced at me, then down at the oversized jersey clinging to my damp body. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. He turned around and grabbed a towel, tossing it to me. “Dry it. It’ll be fine.” With that, he turned to grab the hairdryer from the living room. I held the towel, thinking about how his ears had just flushed, and couldn’t help but smile. “Can you dry it for me? My hands are tired.” He stared at me for a few seconds, eventually giving in. With one hand holding the hairdryer, he gently pulled at my collar to reach my back. The jersey’s collar was already too wide. As he pulled, the fabric slid down, exposing a large portion of my bare shoulder. I clearly felt Logan freeze. “Where are you going?” He pulled back his chair, not even turning around. “To the gym room to work out.” “Oh.” I sat on his bed, feeling a bit let down. Logan grabbed his headphones, but before he could put them on, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, shot me a look, and pressed answer. “Ethan. What’s up?” My chest tightened, and I subconsciously held my breath. “Yeah, I’m at my apartment.” “You said someone saw Chloe coming here?” Logan turned around to look at me again. “I—” Before he could finish, I jumped off the bed. I strode over, climbed onto his lap, and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. As Logan tried to push me away, I pressed my lips against his ear. “Logan, tell him I’m not here.” My body was pressed flush against his chest. In an instant, Logan’s body heat flared, burning hot. I could see the veins on his neck bulging slightly. His Adam’s apple rolled violently, and his heart was hammering against his ribs. I looked up at him, and he stared down at me. Deep in his eyes, a dark, heavy desire began to pool. “No, they saw wrong.” “She’s not my girlfriend. We aren’t close.” Logan spoke into the phone and hung up immediately. He tossed the phone aside, his long fingers gripping my waist tightly through the thin jersey. He pulled me flush against him. I could feel the hard, heat of his body. My mind went completely blank, and my first instinct was to pull away. But Logan only held me tighter. “Chloe.” His voice was incredibly husky. His hot breath fanned over my ear and neck. I shrank back, trying to dodge, but his lips slammed down onto mine. “Don’t tease me… unless you want to regret it.”

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I accidentally cast the spicy photo I sent my online boyfriend onto the conference room screen. Even worse, I realized my clingy online boyfriend—the one who calls me “Mistress,” begs for cuddles, and worships the ground I walk on, is actually my ice-cold CEO, Ethan Vance. By day, he humiliates me in front of the entire office. By night, he Venmos me five thousand dollars and begs me to marry him. Then our Snapchat chat popped up on the big screen. In front of the entire company. 0 “Oh…” Someone in the room gasped loudly. Ethan slowly turned around, his gaze shifting toward the screen. Panicking, I frantically disconnected the screencast with trembling fingers, forcing a deeply awkward smile. “Sorry… my bad. Wrong button.” My face was burning hot. I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect that my cold-blooded, heartless boss was the very same online boyfriend who cried and begged me to call him a good boy on Snapchat! Just ten minutes ago, he had humiliated me in front of the entire department, calling the fourth draft of my proposal a piece of trash. But now that I knew I was his “Mistress”… he definitely wouldn’t reject my pitch next time! I was saved! Oh my god, yes! My career actually had hope! I sat up straight, trying to look professional. A second later. He sent a flurry of messages: [Babe, I’m in a meeting right now.] [I’ll whine for you as soon as I get home~] [PayPal Transfer: $5,000] My heart stopped. Before I could even hide the stupid grin on my face, Ethan’s sharp, cold voice cut through the air. “Chloe! What on earth are you smiling at?” I jumped, startled. I quickly looked up and met Ethan’s icy, razor-sharp gaze. He looked absolutely furious, glaring at me with zero intention of saving my pride. “When you joined this company, you had no impressive portfolio, nor any outstanding achievements. I finally gave you a chance.” “And what do I get?” “Your proposal is a total mess, you stay completely silent during meetings, and now you’re playing on your phone!” “Do you even want to keep your job?” Oh, no. I was in deep, deep trouble. My heart was pounding in my chest. Everyone else in the room held their breath, all eyes locked on me. Some looked at me with pity, some with confusion, and others were just glad they weren’t the ones getting scolded. I had always been a straight-A student, growing up with praise from teachers and admiration from classmates. But ever since I became Ethan’s assistant, getting chewed out by him had become my weekly routine. My face burned with humiliation. Tears welled up in my eyes. But online… Ethan was always so sweet to me. He would call me his queen, begging for hugs and kisses… I tried to explain myself, my voice trembling with emotion. “I… I was just texting my boyfriend… My boyfriend is actually—” “Nobody cares who you’re texting,” Ethan cut me off coldly. “If there’s a next time, you don’t need to stay on my team.” Ethan was the CEO, and my direct boss. I knew that in this company, no one would dare hire someone he threw out. If he kicked me out, I would be packing my bags and leaving the industry for good. The blood ran cold in my veins. It took me a long time to squeeze out a raspy reply. “Understood… It won’t happen again.” 0

The moment we walked out of the conference room, my colleague Mia grabbed my arm, her face full of worry. “Chloe, are you insane? Texting during his meeting is one thing, but casting it to the big screen?! Thank god the Ice King didn’t see the text, or you’d be a goner!” I let out a weak, embarrassed laugh. “Yeah… slip of the finger.” When I first realized Ethan was my online boyfriend, I was ecstatic. But thinking about it now… it was incredibly creepy. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then lowered my voice. “Hey, Mia… do you think someone like Mr. Reed would ever do online dating?” Mia blinked, then burst out laughing. “Mr. Reed? The legendary office tyrant? The man is basically celibate.” She leaned in closer to my ear. “Rumor has it he has some… issues down there. How could he do online dating?” Her expression suddenly changed, and she looked at me suspiciously. “Wait, you’re not thinking of seducing him to save your job, are you?” “Girl, it’s just a proposal. Don’t sacrifice your soul for it.” “The Ice King already dislikes you. If you push his buttons, he will fire you on the spot.” My heart did a violent flip. I had thought I hit the jackpot with Ethan. But from Ethan’s perspective, if he found out, it would look like I was blackmailing him. After all, I made him call me “Mistress” and forced him to send me abs pics. Just imagine if I had cast his abs to the screen during the meeting! Oh my god, the sheer embarrassment. It would be my social death. I could never let Ethan know that I was his online Mistress! I forced myself to sound calm. “I was just curious. I’d never do that.” Only then did Mia let out a sigh of relief. Shortly after I got back to my apartment, my phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat message from Ethan. [Babe, I’m free now. Want me to make those sweet sounds for you?] Ah! The thought of Ethan—who was always so stiff, formal, and buttoned-up to his neck at the office—lying on his bed and begging for my attention made my brain short-circuit. The contrast was too wild. And he was my boss! I didn’t dare to play along anymore. Me: [No need.] [Ethan got anxious immediately: [Why?] [Am I not attractive to you anymore?] [Or are you mad because I didn’t reply to your thigh pic right away?] [No wonder you didn’t accept my PayPal transfer.] [Babe, I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please, just give me a chance to show you how much I want you.] Then, a FaceTime call popped up. My heart raced to the rhythm of the ringtone. Maybe it was because Ethan had been so brutal to me today, but seeing him beg so desperately online gave me a sudden rush of satisfaction. In fact, I wanted to mess with him a little. I wanted to humble him, and then dump him. But then I looked at the pending $5,000 transfer… …Fine. Let’s keep this going. But I was definitely going to tease him. I accepted the FaceTime call. As usual, we both kept our cameras angled down, keeping our faces out of the frame. “Babe, are you still mad at me?” His deep, husky voice echoed through my speakers. I had never made the connection before, but listening closely now, it was undeniably Ethan’s voice. Terrified he would recognize mine, I quickly typed: [I’m not mad, baby. Go ahead, I’m watching. Ethan let out a relieved sigh. His tone turned playful and eager. “Okay. Here I go.” 0

I stared at the screen, unable to look away. On the screen, Ethan unbuckled his belt, slowly putting on a silver waist chain… Oh my god! I let out a gasp and threw my phone onto the bed. Even though I talked a big game online and loved watching hot videos to decompress, this was my first time seeing a man’s… well, *that*. And it belonged to Ethan Reed! It was too much to handle. Ethan’s voice sounded frantic. “Babe? What’s wrong?” “Did I… did I scare you?” I patted my burning cheeks. I hung up the FaceTime call and texted him: [Are you mutated or something?] Ethan: [?] Me: [Even the romance novel male leads aren’t that… huge.] Ethan: [What?] Me: [It’s a compliment.] Ethan: [I’m just worried you won’t be able to handle me.] This pervert… My face flushed even hotter. [I definitely can’t.] [Besides, I like pink. Freshness.] [Maybe I should find a younger guy.] Ethan was thirty. This was the ultimate low blow for him. As expected, Ethan immediately sent a video to prove himself. The video showed a perfect, toned body. His abs were deeply defined from years of working out. What caught my eye was a silver body chain wrapped around his chest and waist. The chest chain rested perfectly on his firm pecs, and the waist chain hugged his hips as he breathed. It was incredibly hot. Then came a voice note. His voice was dangerously low. “Babe… don’t find someone else.” “What do young guys even know?” “Look, I put on the chest and waist chains you wanted to see last time.” “And the size… I promise you’ll love it.” “Mistress, please don’t leave me.” My breath hitched. I quickly made an excuse about my work. [I have to go. Need to fix my project pitch.] Ethan panicked: [Mistress, is there anything I can do to help?] Oh, he could definitely help. [My boss called my proposal absolute garbage. I have to rewrite the whole thing.] Ethan got angry: [He has zero taste. Sounds like a total idiot leader.] He was literally insulting himself. I burst out laughing. [Tell me who he is, babe. I’ll ruin his career for you.] Oh, please do. Go ruin yourself. 0

Ethan and I met on a chat app. At the time, I had moved out of my parents’ house to escape their constant nagging about marriage. But finding a job was tough. My bank account was draining fast, and I was about to miss rent. I was desperate for cash. When I realized Ethan was incredibly needy and filthy rich, I started playing hard to get. I’d ignore his texts for days, telling him I was too busy looking for jobs. To buy my time, Ethan started sending me money. I’d play cool: [There are plenty of guys offering me more. Why should I choose you?] Ethan sounded pitiful: [What do you want from me?] Me: [I want a loyal, obedient puppy. One that whines and calls me Mistress.] It took Ethan a long time to reply. He asked: [Do I need to show some skin?] I smirked. The next second, he sent a video. A shirtless man with a black collar buckled around his neck. “Mistress,” his voice was incredibly low and seductive. “I only show this to my girl. Be mine, and I’ll show you much more.” And just like that, we became online partners. But to me, it was just a side hustle. To protect myself, we agreed to never share faces or real names. But who would have thought he was Ethan Reed? 0

I texted back, pretending to complain: [I’m just worried you’ll show me something ugly.] [Don’t bother me today, or I’ll block you.] Ethan immediately went quiet. I accepted his transfer and put my phone away. But the moment midnight struck, Ethan, like a clockwork puppy, sent a voice note. “Babe, are you asleep?” “What else do you want to see? I can show you right now.” “Please don’t ignore me.” “Can I marry you? Please?” “Mistress, I beg you, just reply to me…” Working late to fix the proposal, I was initially filled with annoyance. But hearing Ethan practically crying, begging to marry me… My heart melted. My frustration evaporated. I texted: [Do you really want to marry me?] Ethan’s voice was raspy but incredibly firm: “I do.” “Even though we’ve never met.” “These past two years with you have been the happiest times of my life.” “Let’s meet up, babe.” “Let’s get married. Let me take care of you for the rest of my life.” My ears burned. My heart softened completely. Even though Ethan was a toxic jerk at work, considering his face, his wealth… and how incredibly clingy he was… This was actually a fantastic deal. I smiled and replied: [Okay, I got it.] But I needed to get this stupid proposal approved first before our big reveal. Ethan was overjoyed. The next morning, I walked into Ethan’s office with my fifth draft. Ethan frowned at his screen. “Are you sure this isn’t the exact same draft from yesterday’s meeting?” My heart stopped. I leaned in to look. No way. I stayed up until 3 AM for this! Ethan’s face was cold, and the air in the room felt heavy. I nervously played with the hem of my shirt. “…I can… go back and adjust the details?” But honestly, I was out of ideas. Ethan glanced at me. “No need.” I blinked, surprised. Was he really letting me off the hook so easily? Did my sweet texts last night put him in a good mood? But before I could celebrate, Ethan poured a bucket of ice water over my head. “Rewrite it from scratch.” He sneered, his voice freezing cold. “If you bring me this kind of garbage again, you can walk out of my team yourself.” My brain went numb. He was literally firing me. What about my rent?! He had promised to protect me last night, and now he was the one driving me insane! I couldn’t take it anymore. I slammed my hands on his desk and yelled, “Ethan Reed! Are you seriously going to fire your own wife?!” Ethan froze, snapping his head up to glare at me.

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1 Woke at night with severe cramps, I messaged our group chat for help before passing out. When pings woke me, my boyfriend Julian and best friend Clara had swapped over a hundred messages. My plea for ibuprofen lay ignored at the bottom. They chatted wildly, debating the World Cup, griping about work, planning a Northern Lights trip. Curled under my duvet, I scrolled up. Last month, I’d cried here about my boss throwing coffee on me. No reply. But when Clara posted a puppy video, Julian blew up the chat. Last weekend, I asked about lunch. They debated games until 3 AM, ignoring me. Suddenly, I recalled Julian’s words creating this chat: “Great, right? Those who love you most sharing your joy and pain.” Notifications kept popping. I tapped “Leave Group.” They never cared. I was done with a life where my voice only echoed in emptiness. … When the sky began to turn a bruised gray, the pain woke me up again. My phone was completely dead silent. Not a single private message from either of them. I leaned heavily against the wall, dragging myself to the bathroom. The face looking back at me in the mirror was terrifyingly pale. Right after I splashed freezing water on my face, Julian called. “Wake up, lazybones. Come downstairs, we’re going to be late for work.” I grabbed a random sweater, threw it on, and stumbled down the stairs, my legs feeling like jelly. Julian rolled down the window of his sedan. Clara was already sitting in the passenger seat, aggressively typing on her laptop balanced on the dashboard. I pulled open the back door and shivered violently as the blasting AC hit my cold sweat. “What took you so long? The newsroom is swamped today.” Julian put the car in drive while Clara turned around, handing me an iced Americano. “Thanks for suffering through this early commute with us every day, Chloe!” I hesitated for a second, then quietly set the iced coffee down in the cupholder. Ever since the incident where my boss humiliated me by throwing coffee on my shirt, I hadn’t been able to drink it. But they weren’t there to see it happen, and they clearly didn’t care to remember. During the drive, Clara continued typing furiously while bantering back and forth with Julian. I sat alone in the backseat, pressing my burning forehead against the freezing glass window just to keep the agonizing cramps at bay. Their voices began to blur into white noise, as if a thick, invisible glass wall had slammed down between the front seats and the back. Clara bounced rapidly from topic to topic, and no matter what she brought up, Julian effortlessly volleyed it back. More and more of their conversation became an inside joke I couldn’t understand. “That Italian place was incredible.” “God, the new editor is such a nightmare.” A sudden thought hit me like a physical blow. When was the last time Julian and I talked like that? I honestly couldn’t remember. Only when we pulled up to the media building did Clara suddenly let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh no! I didn’t finish writing the closing segment!” Julian smoothly backed into a parking space and said casually, “That’s what happens when you stay up all night watching soccer. Just have Chloe finish it for you. She’s just doing desk work today anyway.” Clara’s face lit up. She shoved her laptop directly into my chest and pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture. “You’re the absolute best, Chloe! Please, please, please? I’ll buy you boba later!” “I don’t think I can—” Before I could even finish my sentence, she gave me a lightning-fast hug, spun around, and sprinted toward the glass doors of the building. Julian was right behind her. He pressed a completely absentminded kiss to my forehead and jogged after her. I had watched them walk away like this a hundred times. At first, I was the one who asked Julian to keep an eye on Clara because she was new to the field team. Then, I was the one standing on the sidewalk, watching them drive off together for breaking news coverage. And now, somehow, I had become the ghost they left behind. At noon, right after I emailed Clara the finished segment, a warm boba tea slid across my desk. A coworker sitting nearby let out a sharp whistle. “Well, well. If it isn’t the golden couple of the newsroom, back from the trenches.” Julian shot him a freezing glare. “Watch your mouth.” He leaned against the edge of my cubicle, his long fingers naturally reaching out to massage my temples. “Is it that time of the month? You looked like you were going to pass out this morning.” I gave a weak nod and wrapped my cold fingers around the plastic cup. The tea was already ice cold. A memory from our first year together suddenly flashed through my mind. Back then, Julian was constantly traveling for field reports. I texted him one night: My cramps are killing me. Going to sleep early. Less than two hours later, he was pounding on my apartment door, completely drenched in sweat. His arms were overflowing with heating pads, three different kinds of painkillers, and a steaming thermos of ginger tea he had somehow managed to brew on the way. That winter was brutally cold, but the heat radiating from his palms made me feel entirely safe. Before I could fully process the memory, Julian pulled his hands away. He was staring at his phone, typing a rapid response to someone. He finished his text, glanced down at me, and frowned. “Why are you wearing a giant hoodie today?” “Didn’t I mention in the group chat yesterday that we’re having dinner with the station director tonight? You can’t wear sweatpants to that.” I blinked at him. So he genuinely hadn’t noticed that I had left the group chat. “I left the group chat. If it’s about work, just message me on Slack.” The casual smile instantly vanished from Julian’s face. He let out a heavy, patronizing sigh. “Seriously? Why? Because you’re on your period and the notifications are annoying you?” “If you’re in a bad mood, take it out on me. Block my number if you have to. Don’t throw a tantrum and leave the group chat. Clara is your best friend. Do you know how hurt she’s going to be when she sees that?” His phone pinged loudly. He glanced at the screen, immediately turned on his heel, and started walking away, tossing a frustrated sentence over his shoulder. “Whatever. If you’re sick, just stay at your desk. Clara and I are going to lunch. I’m adding you back to the chat later, and you are not allowed to leave again. Understood?” I sat silently in my rolling chair, the agonizing cramps twisting my stomach into tight knots. I dry-swallowed the ibuprofen I had Postmated for myself and dropped the freezing boba tea straight into the trash can. Then, I clicked open a half-finished Word document on my desktop. Application for Overseas Correspondent. My phone started buzzing relentlessly. When I finally packed up to leave, the group chat had over 99 unread messages. The very last one was from Julian, specifically tagging me. [Clara told me about those psychotic business owners targeting female reporters lately. I don’t feel safe letting you live alone right now. I’m packing a bag and moving into your apartment tonight.] I had literally sent them a news alert about that exact same stalker situation three days ago in this very chat. But they had been too busy debating the plot of a Marvel movie to acknowledge it. I typed a quick, [No need,] locked my screen, and climbed into the back of my Uber. After staring at the passing traffic for a minute, I unlocked my phone and added one last sentence. [I applied for the overseas correspondent position today. I might be leaving the country soon.] I hit send. Not a single new message popped up. Watching the blurry city lights streak past the window, I suddenly thought about my first year at the station. We were all rookies back then. Julian and Clara were assigned to the chaotic field team, and I was the quiet copy editor working behind the scenes. Every time Julian came back from a grueling shoot, he brought me a hot chocolate. Every time Clara struggled with an opening hook, she would roll her chair over to my desk and ask me how to inject more emotion into the script. When the three of us won our very first industry journalism award, Julian picked me up and spun me around while laughing hysterically. Clara shoved the heavy glass trophy directly into my hands. She promised we were going to conquer the entire media world together. We did conquer it. Only, they were the ones standing in the spotlight, and I was just the shadow. When the Uber dropped me off, I looked up and saw the lights in my apartment were on. I assumed I had been in such a rush this morning that I forgot to hit the switch. But when I unlocked the front door, I froze. A massive suitcase was splayed open in the middle of my living room, with men’s clothes thrown haphazardly all over my clean sofa. There was the sound of chopping coming from the kitchen. Julian poked his head out, holding a spatula. “You’re back? The soup is almost done.” Clara walked out right behind him, carrying a plate of appetizers, a bright, excited smile plastered across her face. “Chloe, you’re finally home! Julian said you guys were officially moving in together, so I bought a bunch of groceries to celebrate. Surprise!” I stood paralyzed in the entryway, feeling like I had walked into an absurd sitcom. But Clara had already spun back into the kitchen, leaning over the stove next to Julian. “Don’t add the green onions to the soup. Chloe hates them.” “It’s fine, she can just pick them out. I love green onions.” “Let’s simmer it for another ten minutes, the meat isn’t tender enough yet.” “Alright, whatever you say, chef.” The two of them bounced off each other with effortless chemistry, looking exactly like a pair of ridiculously in-love newlyweds. It made me feel like an absolute stranger intruding in my own home. That familiar, suffocating wave of exhaustion crashed over me. I didn’t even bother taking my shoes off. I walked straight to the kitchen doorway. “I never agreed to let you move in.” Julian turned around, his eyes wide with genuine confusion. “What is your problem now?” “My problem is that this is my apartment. Who gave you permission to come inside?” The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Clara rushed over, reaching out to grab my arm, but I smoothly stepped back to avoid her touch. She nervously glanced at Julian’s dark expression before frantically trying to explain. “Chloe, please don’t be mad. Julian was just terrified that you were living alone with that stalker on the loose. If I knew you were going to be this upset, I never would have let him come over.” CLANG. Julian slammed the heavy metal spatula into the cast-iron skillet. “Chloe, are you done throwing your little tantrum?” “I am bending over backwards out of pure concern for your safety, moving all my stuff here just to protect you, and this is the attitude I get?” Julian’s face twisted into a mask of pure, ugly frustration. “What the hell has been wrong with you lately? You’re constantly snapping at everyone, you act like a child and leave the group chat, and now you’re kicking us out of your house? Clara is your best friend. I am your boyfriend. Do you really think we’re trying to ruin your life?” “Julian, please stop yelling. Chloe is just having a bad week because of her period, you know how it gets.” I stood there, watching them play their perfectly choreographed good-cop-bad-cop routine, and I felt so unbelievably tired. Tired beyond the 14-hour editing shifts. Tired beyond the agonizing cramps. I didn’t scream at him like I would have a year ago. I just calmly pointed my finger toward the front door. “We are breaking up. Get out of my house right now.” Clara took a step forward, trying to grab my hand, but Julian viciously yanked her back by her wrist. “Don’t even bother with her, Clara. She’s acting like a rabid dog right now.” By the time I finished throwing his clothes into his suitcase and scrubbing their mess out of my kitchen, it was 2 AM. The next morning, I walked into the main conference room for the overseas correspondent selection. The first thing I saw was Julian leaning over the table, aggressively pointing at something on Clara’s script. When they noticed me, they both froze. “Chloe? What are you doing here?” I pulled out a chair in the very back row and sat down, keeping my eyes locked on the whiteboard. “I sent a message in the group chat yesterday.” The silence that followed was incredibly uncomfortable. Julian cleared his throat awkwardly, then immediately turned his back to me and went back to whispering with Clara. Clara mumbled something in response and refused to look in my direction. The selection process began. When it was Clara’s turn to present, Julian actually gave her a thumbs-up from the front row. She hadn’t even read two sentences before I narrowed my eyes. The script she was holding was the rough draft I had ghostwritten for her yesterday. And it was painfully obvious she hadn’t bothered to read it beforehand. When she reached the emotional climax of the story, she literally read the director’s notes I had written in parentheses out loud. A wave of hushed, mocking whispers rippled through the audience of seasoned journalists. Before she could awkwardly stumble to the end, Director Vance, the head of the department, slammed his hand on the table, picked up his half-full coffee cup, and hurled the liquid directly at her. “You dare bring this garbage onto my stage? You are a complete embarrassment to this network!” Seeing the dark coffee stains splattered across Clara’s pristine white blouse, my instinct kicked in. I reached for the zipper of my jacket, preparing to run up there and cover her. But Julian was much faster. He vaulted onto the stage, throwing his body in front of Clara like a human shield. “Director, even if her script was flawed, you have absolutely no right to throw coffee at your staff.” My fingers locked in a death grip around the fabric of my jacket. The last time the Director publicly humiliated someone by throwing coffee, it was me. I had cried in our group chat about it for hours. Neither of them even asked if I was okay. Julian’s eyes pierced through the crowd and locked directly onto mine. His look was an aggressive, unmistakable command. The message was crystal clear: Stand up. Take the blame for her. This wasn’t the first time he demanded this. Whenever Clara mispronounced a foreign dignitary’s name on live television, I was the one who marched into the control room and claimed I had printed the phonetic spelling wrong on the teleprompter. Julian always justified it by saying, You work behind a desk, Chloe. It doesn’t affect your career. Clara is the face of the network. But this time, staring straight into his demanding eyes, I slowly shook my head. Julian opened his mouth to bark an order, but Clara suddenly buried her face in her hands and sprinted out of the conference room sobbing. He shot me a look of pure, venomous disgust and chased after her without a second thought. The rest of the room turned to stare at me. Some eyes were curious, some were judging, and some were hiding malicious smirks. The moderator quickly restored order, and the presentations continued. The second I stepped out of the conference room after my presentation, Julian aggressively grabbed my arm and dragged me into the stairwell. Clara was standing against the concrete wall, shivering, wearing his oversized blazer. Her eyes were swollen red. Julian’s voice trembled with barely contained fury. “Are you happy now, Chloe?” “It’s just an overseas assignment! Was it really necessary to sit there and watch her get publicly humiliated? We have been friends for years, and you just threw her to the wolves without blinking.” I let out a sharp, cold laugh and looked him dead in the eyes. “She used a script I wrote. She didn’t bother to read the notes. Why the hell should I take the bullet for her incompetence?” “Because she doesn’t know how to write that kind of copy!” Julian’s voice echoed violently off the concrete walls. “You know scriptwriting is her weak spot! Why didn’t you sit down and review it with her before she went up there?” He stepped directly into my personal space, grabbing my wrist again, trying to physically pull me toward the director’s office. “You are going to walk in there right now, tell Vance you are withdrawing your application, and give the spot to Clara.” I almost laughed out loud. “On what grounds?” “Because she needs it ten times more than you do!” Julian glared down at me, speaking as if he were explaining basic math to a toddler. “Do you have any idea how psychotic that stalker is right now? Clara is a female reporter out on the streets every single day. She is terrified for her life. You get to sit in a secure office behind a desk. Why are you trying to steal her only ticket out of the city?” “Julian, please stop.” Clara weakly tugged on his sleeve, then turned to me, forcing a pathetic, trembling smile. “Chloe, please don’t be mad at him. He’s just stressed.” She reached out and tried to loop her arm through mine, exactly like she used to do when we were college freshmen. “It’s fine, it’s totally fine. It was my fault for not prepping enough. I don’t blame you.” “Let’s just go. We can ride in Julian’s car, I’ll drop you off at your place, and you guys can talk this out. No more fighting, okay?” I ripped my arm out of her grip, feeling incredibly disgusted by the stranger standing in front of me. This was the same Clara who used to passionately defend me, screaming at Julian for prioritizing his job over my feelings. I didn’t even acknowledge them. I turned my back and walked straight toward the elevators. A heavy hand slammed against the elevator doors just as they were closing. Julian shoved his way inside. Clara practically dragged me by my coat into the parking garage. “Chloe, stop making a scene. We can talk about this when we get to the car.” But the moment we reached Julian’s sedan, Clara smoothly opened the back door for me, then confidently slid into the passenger seat. Julian glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his brow deeply furrowed, but he kept his mouth shut. Seconds later, both of their phone screens lit up. I watched their thumbs fly across the keyboards, followed by a secretive, knowing glance shared between the front seats. I leaned my head against the cold glass and completely shut them out. The car was speeding down a narrow alleyway toward Clara’s apartment building when a black SUV suddenly aggressively swerved, blocking the entire road. Julian slammed on the brakes. My head violently slammed into the back of Clara’s seat. My vision exploded into a dizzying blur of white stars. A split second later, a massive brick shattered the windshield. “Get out of the car, you parasitic scumbags!” Three large men wielding steel pipes started marching toward the sedan. Julian didn’t hesitate for a microsecond. He kicked his door open, grabbed Clara by the waist, and bolted out of the car. I stumbled out of the backseat, my vision swimming, my legs completely numb. But Julian already had his arm wrapped tightly around Clara, sprinting toward the main street with terrifying speed. He frantically flagged down a passing taxi and shoved Clara into the back seat. “Chloe! Clara is the one on television, they recognize her face! I have to get her out of here!” The taxi door slammed shut. One of the men with a pipe lunged forward and grabbed me violently by the collar of my jacket. “You’re rolling with them, right? Perfect. You’ll do.” I thrashed wildly, kicking and screaming, but my body felt completely hollow. With the absolute last ounce of strength I had, I smashed the emergency SOS button on my phone before the darkness swallowed me whole. My final thought, before I lost consciousness, was sickeningly clear. Of course. No matter what the situation is, I am always the one left behind to die. When I finally opened my eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room blinded me. Julian was standing at the foot of my bed, looking exhausted and carrying a heavy expression of guilt. Clara was standing next to him, her eyes puffy and red from crying. The second I blinked, Clara rushed to my bedside, her voice choking on dramatic sobs. “Chloe! Thank God you’re awake! We were so terrified!” Julian took a hesitant step forward, his voice completely devoid of its usual arrogance. “I am so sorry, Chloe. Everything happened so fast. That guy recognized Clara from the broadcasts, and I was terrified he was going to kill her, so my instinct was just to…” I turned my head away, staring blankly at the sterile white wall as a single tear slipped into my hairline. “We are done…” Before I could finish my sentence, Julian’s eyes darted to Clara’s forearm. The edge of a white bandage was slightly peeling off. “What happened to your arm? I told you not to move it.” “It’s fine, it just snagged on my coat. Honestly, I’m just terrified that psycho is going to leak our location to the network.” Julian reached out, instinctively and gently pressing the adhesive tape back onto her skin. His tone was casual and intimately protective. “I already called security. You’re completely off field duty for the next week. I’ll write all your scripts…” Lying in that hospital bed, watching their flawless, sickeningly sweet dynamic play out in real time, I suddenly felt incredibly bored. My phone vibrated sharply on the bedside table. It was an automated email from HR. Overseas Correspondent Application: APPROVED. I pushed my weight onto my elbows, sat up, and reached over to rip the IV needle out of my own hand. Julian finally snapped out of his trance, lunging forward to grab my wrist. “What the hell are you doing?” I looked him dead in the eyes and said it loud and clear. “Julian, I am breaking up with you. I refuse to spend another second of my life in the same room as the two of you.” They both froze in shock. Clara’s eyes instantly welled up with fresh tears. “Chloe, please don’t do this. Last night was a horrible, freak accident. Julian didn’t mean to leave you…” The guilt instantly evaporated from Julian’s face, immediately replaced by that familiar, suffocating irritation. “Chloe, can you stop using breaking up as a weapon every time something doesn’t go your way?” Clara frantically grabbed his bicep. “Julian, stop yelling at her. She just woke up, she has a concussion…” Julian violently shook her hand off, staring down at me with profound disappointment. “I know you took a hit yesterday, but I already apologized! How long are you going to drag this childish tantrum out?” He let out a sharp, mocking scoff, grabbed Clara by the shoulder, and stormed out of the hospital room without looking back. Julian never came back to visit me. After I was discharged, I went straight to the network headquarters to pack my belongings for the overseas deployment. As I was walking through the main lobby holding a cardboard box, I nearly collided with Julian. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the box. “What is this? You’re actually quitting over an argument?” “I’m taking a leave of absence. I need a break.” He let out a massive sigh of relief and casually reached out to touch my forehead. “A break is a good idea. You need to reset your mental state. Clara and I are buried in a massive investigative piece right now, but once we wrap it up, I’ll come stay with you for a few days.” He was already speed-walking toward Clara, who had just walked through the revolving doors, and he didn’t even hear my final words. “Don’t bother.” Because I will never need you again, Julian.

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At six months old, I cried nonstop. No doctor could explain it. Desperate, my wealthy parents hired a baby whisperer who claimed she could translate infant thoughts. The moment she entered, she diagnosed me: a splinter in my toe. My parents checked—she was right. They trusted her blindly after that. Months later, I refused my mother’s milk. The whisperer told them, “She says you’re not her real mother. She’ll steal your fortune for her real parents and wishes you’d die soon.” Believing her, my parents cast me out and brought home their real daughter. I was sent to a run-down trailer park, where neglect and hunger defined my childhood. At ten, I died from abuse. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day the whisperer first arrived. This time, after they removed the splinter, I screamed even louder. 1 “Ma’am, the baby is crying because of a tiny wooden splinter lodged in her right big toe,” Martha said politely, standing by the nursery doorway. Brian skeptically removed my sock and indeed found the tiny, almost invisible speck of wood. “Amazing. You just stood by the door and glanced from afar,” Eleanor remarked, her voice filled with relief. “And you knew Jenny had a splinter thinner than a strand of hair?” “No wonder she is the most sought-after nanny in elite circles,” Brian said with a small smile. “She actually has real talent.” The ambient noise pulled my consciousness back to reality. I tried to speak, but only a baby’s high-pitched wail came out. I looked at my tiny, chubby hands and feet. I had been reborn. In my past life, my memories began in a desolate backwater town. I had no mother, only a father named Silas, who was a hopeless gambler. Whenever he lost a bet, he beat me. I lived hand-to-mouth, never knowing when my next meal would come. By the age of ten, I was smaller than a healthy six-year-old. When I turned twelve, Silas’s debts piled up so high he sold me to a local loan shark. I fought back when the man tried to touch me, cracked my skull against a table corner, and died in the dark. Only after my death did my infant memories return. I realized I was born into a life of luxury. Because of a clever con artist, I was labeled an ungrateful, fake daughter and discarded. Seeing Martha’s face now filled me with a mixture of terror and rage. But I was too small to fight back or tell my parents the truth. All I could do was cry harder. Brian’s brow furrowed again. He stared sharply at Martha. “I thought you said she was crying because of the splinter? We took it out. Why is she crying even louder now?” I glared at Martha with all the intensity my tiny eyes could muster. If only you could actually hear me, you miserable fraud. I would curse you to hell. In my past life, my spirit had hovered over my biological home after my death. I saw the real daughter grown up. She looked exactly like Martha. My parents eventually grew suspicious, conducted a DNA test, and uncovered the truth. But they were too soft-hearted. Even in their rage, they could not bring themselves to punish the girl they had raised for eighteen years. In the end, that ungrateful girl stole Brian’s company secrets and handed them to his biggest rival. Brian’s empire collapsed, and my parents’ lives became a living hell. Martha’s face flashed with a brief moment of panic. But she recovered instantly. “How strange,” she murmured, looking down at me with mock sympathy. “The young miss is saying she is crying because she despises your touch.” 2 I was so angry I flailed my tiny fists, wanting to strike her. She was already setting up the narrative of the ungrateful child. Eleanor’s face fell, her voice turning cold. “They say you are the best nanny in the city, and I paid a fortune to borrow you from the Vanderbilt family. But this is just nonsense. If you are going to keep driving a wedge between me and my daughter, get out.” Martha did not flinch. She stepped forward and gently picked me up. “I only report what the baby’s soul is whispering, ma’am.” I cried with everything I had to prove her wrong. But as Martha held me, she slyly brought a small cloth near my nose. A sweet, chemical scent filled my lungs, and a heavy drowsiness hit me instantly. Before I blacked out, I saw her lay me back down in the crib. “See? Now that you are not holding her, she has quieted down. If you do not believe me, there is nothing more I can do. I should return to the Vanderbilts; their young master is waiting.” She took three steps toward the door. Brian cleared his throat, stopping her. “Wait. Stay. We will double your salary. Just find out why Jenny is rejecting us.” Eleanor sighed, rubbing her temples. “You are right, Brian. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Maybe she just dislikes our perfume or the scent of our clothes.” No, Dad! Don’t listen to her! Let her leave! I screamed in my head, but darkness consumed me. When I woke up, Martha was officially installed as my full-time nanny. Furious, I spat at her face when she leaned over my crib. Get away from me, you monster! Martha wiped her cheek, a cruel smirk appearing on her face. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you? Enjoy your comfortable days while they last. I won’t hold a grudge against a baby.” She leaned closer, whispering in my ear. “Do you know how hard I worked to secure a golden life for my daughter? Out of all the wealthy families, yours was the only one with a baby born on the exact same day, in the same hospital. It is a bit of a downgrade for my girl to wait, but she will get what is hers eventually.” I wailed, trying to alert my parents. It was my only weapon, but my infant body was too weak. Eleanor walked into the nursery. “What is going on?” Martha secretly pinched my thigh hard, her fingers twisting the skin. “I think the baby sensed you coming, ma’am. She was perfectly calm just a second ago.” I tried to stop crying, but the physical pain was too much. The harder she pinched, the louder I screamed. Eleanor looked at me with a complicated, hurt expression before turning away. As soon as she left, Martha drugged me again. The next day, Martha offered me a bottle of Eleanor’s pumped breast milk. The moment it touched my lips, she pinched me again. “The young miss says she finds your scent disgusting, ma’am,” Martha lied, looking regretful. Because I had always struggled with feeding, Eleanor believed her. Then Martha offered a formula she had bought. I clamped my jaws shut, but Martha used the drug again. In my semi-conscious state, she forced the bottle down my throat. “See, ma’am? She has no problem with formula.” This happened repeatedly until my parents trusted her completely. Eleanor grew more anxious by the day. One evening, she asked Brian, “Why does our baby hate us so much?” Brian looked at Martha. “Has she said anything else? Is it our clothes? Our scent?” Martha knew her moment had come. She dropped to her knees, looking terrified. “Actually, the young miss has said some things. I didn’t dare repeat them because they were so shocking. But she has repeated them so many times, I am certain of what she is saying.” At Brian’s nod, she continued. “She says she hates your touch because you are not her real parents. She says when she grows up, she will take your wealth to honor her real family. And she wishes you would both die soon so she can inherit everything.” 3 In my past life, those words became a thorn in my parents’ hearts. Even after finding their real daughter, they initially wanted to keep me. But Martha’s relentless psychological dripping wore them down. Later, she framed me for hurting the real daughter, and they finally sent me away. Now, I watched my parents anxiously. Brian’s expression was unreadable. Eleanor was furious. “This is ridiculous! She is six months old! Even if she weren’t ours, how could an infant say such things?” Martha remained calm and solemn. “Every soul has a script they read before reincarnating. God makes babies mute for the first year because it takes that long for the veil of forgetfulness to fully set in.” My parents did not fully believe it, but the seed of doubt was planted. Over the next few weeks, Martha kept reporting my thoughts. Most were trivial things, like which toys I liked or which clothes I preferred. But she masterfully slipped in poison. “The young miss says your real daughter is starving in a filthy backwater town.” “She says her real father is a man named Silas, a proud, strong man.” “She seems happy today. She says your real daughter is about to be beaten to death by her gambling father, and then no one will compete with her.” My parents looked at me with growing distress. Martha kept me isolated. Whenever they tried to get close, she found a way to make me cry. Slowly, Eleanor broke. “Brian, what if it is true? Let’s just run an investigation. We have nothing to lose. But if our real daughter is out there…” Brian agreed and sent his assistant to investigate. Very quickly, they tracked down a baby girl of my exact age living with a gambler named Silas in a rural trailer park. The moment they brought the real daughter back, they ran a DNA test. The results came back that afternoon; she was a perfect match. 4 The moment the results were revealed, Eleanor wept, clutching the baby girl, whom they named Daisy. “My poor baby, you have suffered so much.” I lay in my crib nearby. Eleanor did not even look at me. Brian, being cautious, ordered an investigation into how the swap happened. The assistant quickly reported back that a negligent nurse at the hospital had mixed up the bassinet tags. With that, Brian’s doubts vanished. He held Eleanor and Daisy close. “We are whole now.” Martha stood behind them, barely concealing her triumphant smirk. She had successfully secured a life of infinite wealth for her daughter. I cried, terrified. Was history repeating itself? My crying drew my parents’ attention. “Jenny has been with us for months,” Eleanor said softly, looking conflicted. “We aren’t strapped for cash. We can afford to raise her too. Let’s keep her.” Martha chimed in immediately. “Have you forgotten what she said? She is a danger to this house!” Brian sighed. “If what you say is true, the forgetfulness will kick in soon. She is just a baby. We will raise her right.” Martha paled. She knew that as long as I stayed, my physical resemblance to my parents would eventually expose the truth. Over the next few days, I did everything I could to crawl away whenever Daisy was near, depriving Martha of any opportunity to frame me. Frustrated, Martha finally lost her patience. One afternoon, while Eleanor was in her room and Brian was in his study, Martha grabbed my hand and tried to force my fingernails into Daisy’s skin. I clenched my fists tight, refusing to scratch her. Seeing that Daisy wasn’t crying, Martha grew desperate. She grabbed my hand, squeezed my fingers, and used her own sharp nail to slice a deep gash into Daisy’s arm. Daisy screamed in pain. Martha wailed at the top of her lungs. “Brian! Eleanor! Help!” My parents rushed into the nursery. Martha was kneeling, cradling a crying Daisy. “I walked in and saw Jenny clawing at Daisy! She looked so vicious, not like a baby at all! She was screaming in her mind that she wanted to kill Daisy so she could keep her place as the sole heiress!” Eleanor whispered, “Is she truly born evil?” I flailed desperately. No! That is not what happened! This was my last chance. If I was sent away now, I would die. Brian closed his eyes and sighed. “Send her away.” Martha beamed, reaching down to grab me. And then, I summoned every ounce of infant strength I had, and threw myself over the edge of the crib. The corner of the wooden rail snagged my romper, tearing it wide open. Revealing a torso covered in dark, purple bruises.

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1 Freshman year, my mom lost everything to a scammer and swallowed a lethal dose of painkillers. At the hospital, facing a $50,000 deposit just to pump her stomach, I emptied my pockets and found only $22 in crumpled bills and coins. As I sank to my knees to beg the nurses, Rick grabbed my arm and pulled me upright. He was the golden boy of our class, always sitting in front of me during lectures. Without hesitation, he pressed his heavy, solid gold heirloom bangles into my palm. “Pawn these. Use the cash to save her,” he said firmly. “A girl should never have to trade her dignity for money. Stand up straight.” I told him I would probably never be able to repay such a debt. He simply looked at me and replied, “I didn’t ask for repayment. Just survive this. Make something of yourself.” My mother survived the overdose. I pushed through graduation, clawed my way up the corporate ladder, and weathered the brutal storms of the tech industry. After college, Rick completely vanished, and I lost all contact with him. Seven years passed. On the very day my tech empire went public on the Nasdaq, pushing my net worth into the billions, Rick’s face suddenly appeared on my social feed. The post was from Luv, the same partner who had scammed my mother all those years ago. The photo showed Rick’s side profile. He was holding a glass of cheap liquor, forced into a humiliated, apologetic smile. The caption read, “The high and mighty golden boy, swallowing his pride and pouring my drinks just to beg for a hundred grand in medical bills. How the mighty have fallen.” I slowly locked my phone screen. Walking over to the hidden safe in my office, I unlocked the deepest compartment. Inside lay those two solid gold bangles, which I had tracked down and repurchased at an astronomical price years ago. Seven years ago, he saved my life. Tonight, it was my turn to have his back. A deafening crash echoed through the room as my boot splintered the heavy oak doors of The Apex Club’s VIP lounge. Inside, a dozen scantily clad bottle boys screamed and scrambled into the corners. Sprawled right in the center of the genuine leather sofa was Luv. The architect of my mother’s misery. “What kind of suicidal idiot crashes Luv’s private party?” The voice didn’t belong to Luv. It came from Lexi, our old class president, a girl who had always kissed up to the rich and trampled on the poor. Lexi cursed under her breath and stood up. She squinted through the neon club lighting, her eyes locking onto my face. A second later, she threw her head back and burst into exaggerated, mocking laughter. “Well, look who it is! If it isn’t Freya, the little stray dog from college who couldn’t even afford cafeteria food!” Lexi sneered, crossing her arms. “What’s the matter? Heard your pathetic mother didn’t quite finish the job, so you came here to beg for scraps?” I didn’t even look at her. My eyes swept the dim, alcohol-soaked room. I didn’t see the face I was looking for. “Where is Rick?” I asked, my voice dropping to a freezing whisper. Hearing that name only made Lexi’s smile wider and infinitely more vulgar. “Aw, still pining after our fallen prince? Too bad you’re late.” She pointed a manicured finger at three empty bottles of high-proof whiskey on the table. “He wanted Luv to loan him a hundred grand to save his crippled mother. Luv made him chug three bottles straight. He just stumbled out of here, puking up his own bile.” Lexi tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with malice. “If you want to book him for the night, Freya, get in line. But hey, since you used to have a crush on him, maybe Luv will give you a discount once she’s done breaking him in?” The entire VIP room erupted into cruel, roaring laughter. My heart seized in my chest. A violent, suffocating rage spiked straight to my brain. I remembered the winter of my freshman year. The city was buried under a brutal blizzard. To pay off the debt from my mother’s hospital bills, I was working three minimum-wage jobs. One night, while delivering food in the snow, my bike was robbed. I lost my last dime covering the stolen orders. I was sitting on a frozen curb, my stomach cramping so hard from hunger I couldn’t breathe. That was the night Rick found me. He didn’t hand me cash out of pity. Instead, he shoved two steaming containers of hot food into my freezing hands, his cheeks flushed from the cold as he feigned annoyance. “Ordered too much. It’s going in the trash anyway. Do me a favor and get rid of it.” I kept my head down, swallowing the hot food as fast as I could while tears mixed with the broth. His voice was so gentle that night. “You need a full stomach if you’re going to keep fighting. Stop looking so miserable. If the sky falls, the tall guys will hold it up for you.” That boy. The boy who stood in the freezing snow, carefully protecting the fragile dignity of a dirt-poor girl. The boy who gave me my only shred of warmth when I was at the absolute bottom. And now, these absolute pieces of trash were treating him like a disposable toy. “Who did you say gets a discount?” I asked, taking a slow step toward Lexi. “What? Did I strike a nerve?” Lexi shoved her finger aggressively into my face. “You broke little bitch, who do you think you are…” She never finished her sentence. From behind me, Marcus, my head of security, moved like a shadow. A vicious roundhouse kick connected squarely with Lexi’s ribs. She shrieked as the sheer force launched her backward. She crashed violently into the glass coffee table, shattering the surface into a thousand pieces. Marcus walked over with a face carved from stone. He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her head back, and delivered a brutal backhand that sent a spray of blood and broken teeth onto the expensive rug. A piercing scream tore through the room. Dead silence fell over the club. The bottle boys were weeping, pressing themselves into the walls. Even Luv, who had been sitting like a queen just moments ago, drained of all color, her alcohol buzz vanishing instantly. I walked over to Lexi, looking down at her writhing body. “I will ask this exactly one more time. Where is Rick?” Blood bubbled from Lexi’s lips. She sobbed in sheer terror, pointing a trembling finger at Luv. “It was Luv… She said his puking ruined the mood. She kicked him out… sent him to the Southside dive bars… forced him to work as a promo boy for cheap beer…” The Southside dive bars. The absolute worst, most dangerous underbelly of the city. Throwing a desperately broke, undeniably handsome man into a place like that to sell drinks was no different than tossing fresh meat into a wolf pack. My nails dug so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. “Marcus,” I said, my voice ragged. “Yes, boss.” “Activate every contact we have in this city. I want his exact coordinates in five minutes.” I didn’t take my eyes off Luv. “If he is missing a single hair on his head, I will have every breathing soul in this room dumped into the river.” Five minutes later, a convoy of three black SUVs screeched to a halt outside a neon-lit strip of Southside dive bars. I rolled down the tinted window. I spotted him immediately. He was wearing a paper-thin, ridiculous promotional t-shirt. His lips were blue from the freezing rain, and he was surrounded by a circle of tattooed thugs. Standing in the center of the mob was Derek. Lexi’s current boyfriend, and the guy who spent all four years of college burning with jealousy over Rick. Derek smirked, kicking a full crate of glass beer bottles off the table. They shattered instantly. Alcohol, rain, mud, and jagged glass flooded the pavement. “Hey, golden boy, didn’t you say you needed to hit your sales quota tonight?” Derek laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Get on your knees. Pick up every single piece of broken glass out of this puddle. Do that, and I’ll buy ten crates from you.” The thugs around him howled with laughter. “Kneel, pretty boy! You used to be so untouchable, right?” one of them jeered. “Remember when my girls tried to ask you out and you didn’t even look at them? Bet you never thought a few hundred bucks could buy you for the whole night now!” Rick bit his lower lip so hard it bled. His face was deathly pale. Derek leaned in close, dropping his voice. “Feel insulted? Don’t want to get your knees dirty? Fine. Walk away. But your crippled mother is getting thrown out of the ICU tonight.” Rick didn’t argue. He didn’t say a word. He simply lowered his head, and slowly bent the knees that used to be so full of pride. He knelt in the freezing mud. He reached his raw, red hands into the filthy water, picking up the jagged shards of glass one by one. Drops of blood instantly bloomed from his fingertips. The blood roaring in my ears was deafening. I wanted to step out of this car and tear every single one of them apart with my bare hands. But not yet. I needed to wait for the exact right moment to end this permanently. One of the thugs stepped forward, tipping a half-empty glass of stale beer directly over Rick’s head. “Wash your brain, pretty boy. Move faster!” Rick violently shivered as the freezing alcohol ran down his hair and into his eyes. He wiped his face blindly with the back of his arm and kept reaching for the glass. A sudden, sharp gasp escaped his lips. Derek had just stomped his heavy combat boot directly onto the back of Rick’s hand, driving the broken glass deep into his flesh. “Oh, my bad. Didn’t see you there,” Derek sneered, twisting his heel into the wound for good measure. Rick shook uncontrollably from the agony. But he didn’t pull his hand away. He slowly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, staring dead into Derek’s face. “It’s clean,” Rick whispered. “Ten crates. Your commission is three hundred bucks. Pay up.” Derek covered his mouth, laughing hysterically. “Three hundred bucks? Do I look like a charity?” He pulled three crumpled hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and threw them violently into Rick’s beer-soaked face. “Take it and get lost. Looking at your pathetic face makes me sick.” Rick stayed silent. He painstakingly picked the muddy bills out of the puddle, clutching them in his bleeding fist like they were his only lifeline. My chest caved in. Sophomore year, I was working in the campus cafeteria. Lexi lost five thousand dollars of the student council budget and blamed it on me. The entire class called me a thief. The dean was preparing my expulsion papers. It was Rick who kicked open the dean’s office door. He slammed a USB drive with cafeteria security footage and a police report onto the desk. “The footage proves she was in the back kitchen washing dishes! Whoever keeps spreading rumors without evidence, I’ll sue them for defamation and drag them out of this school myself!” That boy. The one who shielded me from the world, who was willing to make enemies of everyone just to clear my name. Now, he was kneeling in the dirt, letting absolute filth step on his bleeding hands for three hundred dollars. In the driver’s seat, Marcus reached for the door handle, a steel baton already gripped in his hand. “I’m going to flatten them.” “Wait,” I commanded, my eyes locked on the window. “Pulling him out of there is easy. But it doesn’t fix the root of this,” my voice dropped to an icy temperature. “Look into it. Find out exactly how he ended up selling drinks in a gutter. Find out how Luv backed him into this corner.” “Tonight, we pull this entire weed up by the roots.” The car was dead silent. A minute later, Marcus passed a tablet to the back seat. “Boss. We have the whole picture.” I took the tablet. Just one glance was enough to make the veins in my temples throb with pure, unadulterated fury. Three years ago, Luv orchestrated a massive corporate trap that bankrupt the Su family’s construction firm. The shock caused Rick’s father to suffer a massive stroke, paralyzing him and leaving the family drowning in ten million dollars of debt. Luv seized their family home. Then, she blacklisted Rick. She put out the word across the entire city: anyone who hired Rick was making an enemy of her. She systematically cut off every single path to survival he had. She wanted to drag this proud, untouchable man through the mud until he was so desperate he had no choice but to crawl into her bed. Right at that moment, the harsh ringing of a cheap, cracked cell phone pierced the cold air outside. Rick pulled the phone from his pocket with a trembling, bloody hand. The speaker was so damaged that the voice on the other end crackled loudly through the alleyway. “Mr. Su, are you paying the hundred thousand for your mother’s bypass surgery or not?” The hospital billing department sounded completely apathetic. “If the funds aren’t in the account by midnight, we have to pull her off the machines and discharge her.” Rick clutched the three bloody hundred-dollar bills, his voice breaking entirely. “Please, doctor, please just give me one more day. I’m getting the money, I swear…” The line went dead. Rick stood alone in the freezing rain. He buried his face in his bleeding hands, his thin shoulders shaking violently as he finally broke down. I stared at the last page of the dossier on my tablet. My eyes froze. It was a bank transfer receipt from seven years ago. Back when my first startup was on the verge of total collapse, when I was completely out of options, I mysteriously received a hundred-thousand-dollar “anonymous alumni grant.” I built my entire empire off that money. “Boss,” Marcus said, his voice unusually heavy. “Seven years ago, Rick dropped out of his Master’s program. He took his grandmother’s historic estate—the only thing she left him—and mortgaged it at a massive loss just to get you that hundred grand.” “He nearly tore his own family apart to do it.” A high-pitched ringing echoed in my skull. It felt like a giant, invisible hand had just crushed my heart. Even breathing tasted like blood. I took his hundred grand, brought my company back from the dead, and built a billion-dollar empire. And he hid in the shadows, paying the ultimate price for my success. Even now, while I sat at the top of the world, the man who put me there was picking up shattered glass from a gutter just to buy his mother one more day of life. Marcus checked his earpiece and turned back to me. “Boss. Our eyes on the ground say Luv left the club ten minutes ago. She’s headed to the City Hospital. She drafted an ‘exclusive companionship agreement’ and is going to force him to sign it outside the ICU.” I slowly lifted my head. The killing intent in my eyes was finally boiling over. Good. Perfect timing, Luv. “Drive. Get to the hospital,” I ordered, my tone dripping with venom. “Contact Vanguard Capital. Liquidate our reserve funds. I want a total, scorched-earth financial assault on every single asset Luv owns. Tell the legal team to meet me in the hospital lobby with the acquisition papers.” Marcus gripped the steering wheel and slammed on the gas. I watched the blurry city lights fly by, my thumb gently tracing the gold bangles in my pocket. “She scammed my mother to the brink of death.” “She forced Rick into the mud.” “Tonight, I’m cashing out every single debt she owes.” Outside the ICU at the City Hospital, Rick stood shivering, his knuckles white as he gripped the final eviction notice. The heavy doors swung open. The head surgeon walked out, holding a clipboard, his expression stern. “Rick, where is the hundred thousand? If that balance isn’t cleared by midnight, we have to pull the plug. We need the bed.” Rick’s eyes were completely bloodshot. Without a word of hesitation, he dropped straight to his knees on the sterile tile floor. “Doctor, please. I’m begging you. I’m getting the money. Tomorrow morning, I swear! Please don’t take her off life support!” The doctor sighed, shook his head, and turned back into the ward. From the end of the hallway, a slow, mocking applause echoed against the walls. Luv strolled down the corridor, puffing on a thin cigar, taking her sweet time. “Bravo! What a devoted, tragic little son.” Behind her trailed Lexi, holding a bloody tissue to her broken mouth, her eyes full of sick vindication. “Tsk, tsk. Look at the untouchable prince now, begging on his knees like a stray dog,” Lexi mumbled through her swollen lips. “If you hadn’t played so hard to get back then and just slept with Luv, you wouldn’t be crying on the floor.” Luv stopped right in front of Rick, staring down at him like he was dirt. Smack. Ten thick, freshly wrapped stacks of hundred-dollar bills hit Rick square in the face. The cash scattered across the floor, soaking up the filthy rainwater dripping from his clothes. Next, Luv tossed a glossy hotel keycard and a legal contract into the pile of money. “I’m out of patience, Rick.” Luv blew a cloud of smoke into his face, using the pointed toe of her designer heel to tap the contract. “Sign the companionship agreement. Take the keycard. Go up to the penthouse, wash that filth off your body, and wait for me in bed.” “Pick up this hundred grand from the floor, one bill at a time, and you can buy your dying mother a few more days.” Rick slowly lifted his head. Tears of absolute humiliation spilled over his eyelashes. “You stole my family’s company. You caused my father’s stroke. Aren’t you afraid of karma, Luv?” “Karma?” Luv threw her head back and laughed frantically. She leaned down, grabbed a handful of Rick’s wet hair, and yanked his face close to hers. “In this city, I am karma!” “You think you’re still some precious golden boy? You’re cheaper than a street escort right now! Me spending a hundred grand to screw you is charity!” Lexi chimed in from the side. “Exactly! Just sign the damn paper! Your mom is about to flatline in there! You really think your precious pride is worth more than her life?” The hallway fell dead silent. Rick turned his head, looking through the ICU window at his mother, hooked up to a dozen breathing tubes. The heart monitor beeped so faintly it sounded like it was already fading. He had no way out. He closed his eyes. Silent tears hit the floor. To save her, he swallowed every last ounce of his pride, completely breaking the spine he had kept straight for so long. Kneeling on the tiles, he reached out a trembling, bloody hand toward the dirty money and the escort contract. Right as his fingertips brushed the paper. A warm, firm hand reached out from the air and clamped down on his wrist like a vise. Rick violently flinched, his head snapping around in sheer disbelief. I stared down at him. I looked at his hollowed-out cheeks, and the endless, crushing despair swimming in his eyes. The fire in my chest burned through the last thread of my sanity. I forcefully pulled him up and shoved him safely behind me. I raised my chin, my eyes locking onto Luv like the barrel of a loaded gun. “The hundred grand.” “I’m paying it.”

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1 On our wedding night, Hudson literally put a lock on his boxer briefs. A titanium combination lock. Waterproof, fireproof, and apparently, wife-proof. Just as I grabbed a heavy glass bottle, fully prepared to smash it and take what was legally mine, rows of glowing text suddenly drifted across my vision. [LMAO. The CEO would rather wear a padlock than touch his ex-wife. Bro’s commitment to purity is insane.] [Just wait until he meets the actual female lead. The ice king literally catches fire for her. Their office hookups are legendary.] [I kinda feel bad for the ex-wife though. Simping for him for six years, and she gets kicked to the curb without even holding his hand.] [Who cares? Everything the male lead owns belongs to our girl. He hands over his black cards, his shares. The ex-wife is just a walking ATM to fund their romance.] I stared at the floating comments, letting out a cold, bitter laugh. Why the hell should I bleed myself dry, offering up my money and my youth, just to end up with nothing and pave the way for some supposed “female lead”? Without a second thought, I crushed up ten of those highly questionable “Midnight Stallion” herbal energy boosters I bought at the gas station and dumped them straight into Hudson’s hangover smoothie. Guarding your purity, huh? Locking it up, right? Tonight, he was either breaking his vow of chastity, or I was making myself a widow! Either way, I wasn’t leaving him untouched for his next girl. I kicked open the heavy oak door to Hudson’s home office. Before he even had time to process what was happening, I grabbed his jaw and forced the spiked smoothie down his throat. The thick liquid spilled over his jawline, soaking into his charcoal dress shirt, perfectly highlighting the hard, sculpted lines of his chest. I swallowed hard. My craving for a piece of that meat only grew stronger. Hudson shoved me away violently, wiping his wet mouth, his eyes wide with absolute shock. “Faye, what the hell did you just make me drink?” I tossed the empty glass aside, straddled his lap, and looked him dead in the eye. “Ten maximum-strength herbal vitality boosters!” Hudson’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. I grabbed his silk tie and crashed my mouth against his. Six years of a crushing, one-sided secret love. One year of a paper marriage. And this was the very first time I actually tasted my own husband. His lips were softer than I imagined. My hands weren’t idle either. I had just managed to pop open the first two buttons of his shirt when he suddenly snapped out of his shock, grabbing my waist and flipping me backward onto his mahogany desk. “Faye, are you out of your damn mind?! Who gave you the nerve?!” “Don’t forget the terms we agreed on when we signed the papers! This is a corporate merger! No feelings involved!” Right. His company was bleeding cash, and my family provided a three-million-dollar bridge loan to save him, buying this marriage certificate in the process. But the glowing comments floating in the air said I was destined to be thrown out penniless, acting as nothing but a stepping stone for the real female lead. Like hell I would let that happen. I ripped my own collar open a few inches, leaning into the crazy. “We’re already married! Even if the fruit is bitter, I am taking a bite out of it tonight.” Maybe he had never seen me act so unhinged. Hudson froze for a second, then reached out to press the back of his hand against my forehead. “What is wrong with you? Are you sick?” Always like this. Usually, he was as cold as a glacier, but the second I acted slightly off, he pretended to care more than anyone else in the world. My nose stung. I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest. “Hudson, just kiss me. Please… If you kiss me, I won’t feel so sick anymore.” The man in my arms went completely rigid. I could feel his body physically reacting to me. Just when I thought I had finally won, he gripped my waist hard, lifted me off the desk, and quickly straightened his ruined shirt. “Faye. We are business partners.” “I don’t have feelings for you. I will never touch you.” “Give it up. Just sit quietly and play the role of Mrs. CEO.” Maybe he realized how brutal those words sounded, because he paused and added, “I’ll have my assistant wire you a million dollars tomorrow. Consider it compensation.” With that, he stormed into the attached bathroom and locked the door behind him. The sound of freezing cold water hitting the tiles mixed with his heavy, ragged breathing. I sat on the edge of the desk, my entire body turning to ice. The glowing comments flooded my vision again. [LMAO. Hudson would rather take an ice bath than touch the ex-wife. His loyalty is unmatched.] [Does she actually think she’s something special? Forcing a kiss on him? The delusion is real.] [Honestly, it’s a little sad. Legally married and he refuses to even look at her.] [Sad? He gave her a million bucks! But knowing this chick, she’ll probably wire it right back to him tomorrow to prove her ‘love’.] [Exactly. His money is destined for our girl Lily. His body too.] [Ugh, if I were the ex-wife, if I couldn’t get the guy, I’d at least keep the damn cash.] I pulled my knees to my chest and cried for the entire night. The comments were right. I was putting on this fake, noble act, playing the ultimate romantic martyr. Hudson literally offered me money, and I usually refused it. If I hadn’t seen those floating words, I really would have walked out of the divorce with absolutely nothing but the clothes on my back. By the time the sun came up, I finally figured it out. If Hudson didn’t want me, fine. I would quietly hoard the cash. As soon as his precious female lead showed up, I would take my money and disappear. Mind made up, I crawled back into the master bedroom to catch up on my sleep. When Hudson woke up that morning and didn’t see me in the kitchen, he actually froze for a second. He pushed open the bedroom door, saw the lump of blankets in the middle of the bed, and the tight line of his jaw finally relaxed. When he arrived at the corporate headquarters, he sat down for his morning briefing, hesitated for a moment, and pressed the intercom for his assistant. “This is my wife’s routing number. Wire three million to her account. Pull it directly from my personal funds.” I slept like the absolute dead. From the day I married Hudson, I spent every waking moment walking on eggshells, desperately trying to please him. Today was the first time I actually slept peacefully. When I woke up, it was already past two in the afternoon. Which meant I hadn’t made him breakfast. I hadn’t delivered his perfectly portioned lunch to the office either. Not that he cared. I unlocked my phone. For the first time in forever, there was an unprompted text from Hudson. [Let’s forget about last night.] [I wired you some money. Go buy something you like.] I checked my banking app. Exactly three million dollars. God bless the CEO. My savings account just hit seven figures. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. If I had just focused on the money from the start, I probably would have achieved financial freedom years ago. I washed my face and decided to go for a walk downtown. Somehow, I ended up outside the coffee shop right beneath his corporate tower. Through the massive glass windows, I saw a girl in a flowing white sundress holding a stack of brochures, handing them out to pedestrians under the blazing Texas sun. The comments exploded instantly. [Ahhhhh it’s our girl Lily! She is so hardworking, doing charity legal outreach in this heat!] [Wait, I remember this! She has terrible cramps today. The male lead is going to bump into her and carry her straight up to his penthouse office!] Is that right? So this was the girl who eventually turned the cold, calculating Hudson into a lovesick fool. She was… undeniably prettier than me. Her skin caught the sunlight like porcelain, flushed a delicate pink from the heat. The oversized white dress did nothing to hide the perfect curves of her figure. But she looked genuinely pale and sick. The cramps were clearly tearing her apart. Right at that moment, the glass doors of the headquarters slid open, and Hudson took a long stride out of the lobby. Lily swayed on her feet and collapsed directly into his chest. My vision was instantly blinded by comments screaming “OMG,” “SO SWEET,” and “I’M DYING.” Hudson reacted exactly the way the comments predicted. He looked down at her face and froze. For the very first time in his life, he didn’t shove a stranger away. Instead, he hesitated for half a second, bent down, scooped her up into his arms, and turned right back into the building. I didn’t watch the rest. I just closed my eyes. I didn’t need to see it to know how it ends. The leads meet, they become magnetically drawn to each other, and they fall into a chaotic, earth-shattering romance. And me? The unloved background character? My screen time was over. Some things in life just can’t be achieved through hard work. My nose stung. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. I walked into the luxury mall next door in a complete daze. Spotting a high-end salon, I walked right in. The stylist smiled at me in the mirror. “What kind of look are we going for today, miss?” I pointed at the top of my head. “Dye the whole thing green.” He blinked. “That color… is a bold choice. Are you sure?” “It’s fine. It fits the mood.” The stylist looked at me with deep, sudden pity. I used to think Hudson liked elegant, preppy women, so I spent hours torturing myself into pastel cardigans and sleek blowouts. In the end, he never even glanced my way. I knew I wasn’t classically beautiful. I had a round face, a little bit of baby fat, and I always felt a little awkward in my own skin. When the bleach was washed out and my hair was a deep, vibrant forest green, the stylist actually smiled. “Hey, I have to admit, you rock this color. You look like a gorgeous forest witch.” My smile probably looked worse than crying. “Really? Maybe… maybe this is who I actually am.” I wasn’t like Lily, who could just stand there and radiate this delicate, heartbreaking fragility. I went to the boutiques next door and bought an armful of ridiculously comfortable, baggy streetwear. When the cashier asked what I wanted to do with the expensive pastel dress I wore in, I didn’t hesitate. “Throw it in the trash.” I had only bought it guessing at Hudson’s preferences anyway. He didn’t like it, and I hated it. No point keeping it. When I got home, I purged my closet. Half my clothes went into donation bags, the rest straight into the dumpster. By six in the evening, Hudson walked through the front door. He looked genuinely surprised when he saw me dragging heavy trash bags toward the door. “What are you doing? It’s late. And I thought you loved that skirt.” I kept my head down. “I don’t like it anymore, so I’m throwing it out.” “And your hair…” “It fits the mood.” “…” He didn’t push it. He walked further inside and noticed the dining table was completely empty. “Did you…” I finally remembered I hadn’t cooked a single thing. “Sorry. I was tired today. I can order some takeout for you?” Hudson’s gaze lingered heavily on me. “Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.” He turned and walked toward the guest bedroom. As he brushed past me, a faint, sweet scent drifted off his suit jacket. Gardenias. It was Lily’s perfume. Hot water beat down from the showerhead. Hudson leaned against the wet tile wall, his mind completely hijacked by the memory of Faye straddling his lap the night before. He admitted it to himself—he definitely reacted. Those ridiculous herbal pills weren’t entirely useless. But what actually frustrated him was the fact that he kept replaying the taste of her kiss in his head. It felt shameful, yet incredibly addicting. He scrubbed his face with body wash, his ears straining to hear any movement outside the door. But thirty minutes passed, and Faye never burst in. He pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his cheek, feeling like he was losing his mind. Why was he hoping she would barge in and kiss him again? He didn’t even like her. He rinsed off the soap, threw on a bathrobe, and walked out. He told himself he was just thirsty. He just needed a glass of water from the kitchen. But when he reached the living room, the lights were entirely off. Faye was already asleep in the master bedroom. A heavy, uncomfortable feeling settled in Hudson’s chest as he turned and walked back to his empty room. That night, he dreamed of his home office. He dreamed of Faye sitting on his lap, only this time, he didn’t push her away… The next morning, I woke up to find breakfast already set on the table. Hudson had actually cooked. He saw me, giving a stiff, unnatural smile. “You’re awake? I noticed you drank a bit the other night, so I made you some soothing ginger chicken broth.” I gave a quiet “Hmm.” I was just starting to feel a little touched, until the glowing text ruined it. [Holy shit, what is happening? The CEO cooking for the ex-wife?!] [Relax. He heard our girl Lily has a weak stomach, so he’s trying to perfect this ginger broth recipe. He’s just using the ex-wife as a taste tester.] [You gotta admit, the ex looks like she’s about to cry. She probably thinks he actually likes her now.] [So shameless. Look at her face. She has zero self-awareness, always throwing herself at him.] The more I read, the colder my blood ran. I finished the broth in absolute silence. Hudson ate his toast, watching me out of the corner of his eye. “Is it good?” I nodded slowly. “It’s good.” When you make it for Lily later, she’ll probably love it. I carried my bowl into the kitchen, completely ignoring the heavy gaze Hudson kept locked on my back. When he was putting on his shoes to leave for work, he suddenly leaned down, aiming to kiss my cheek. I jumped back like I had been burned. “What?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Nothing,” he coughed, trying to hide his awkwardness. “Just… we are married. It’s standard procedure.” I forced a bitter smile and waved him off. “No, you don’t need to do that. You don’t ever have to do that again.” You don’t have to force yourself to accept me. Go do what you actually want to do. I looked at Hudson’s flawless face, silently drawing a hard line through this relationship in my heart. Hudson left for the office with a dark, stormy expression. I figured since the female lead had officially entered the chat, our marriage was probably on a countdown. Once this was over, I would be completely alone. I didn’t know what my next move was. Needing someone to talk to, I took an Uber to my mother’s new house. She was sitting on the porch, rocking her toddler son in the sun. When she saw me, irritation flashed in her eyes. “Why are you here?” I swallowed awkwardly. “Nothing, I just wanted to see you. Mom, there’s something I need to talk to you about…” Right then, my little half-brother tripped and fell. My mom frantically rushed over to scoop him up. “Whatever it is, text it to me. Your stepdad is coming home soon, and you know he doesn’t like having you around. You need to leave.” I slowly backed away and tried calling my dad’s number. He picked up, the sound of crashing ocean waves and a younger woman laughing in the background. “I’m on vacation in Cabo. If no one is dying, don’t call me.” “Dad, I just need to ask you something…” “Ask your mother! Stop coming to me every time you want a handout! You’re not my only kid anymore!” Click. The line went dead. I stood at the corner of a busy intersection, my mind completely blank. Right on cue, the floating text popped up with a new update. [OMG OMG! Lily brought the ginger broth to Hudson’s office! They ate together and had the sweetest lunch date!] [It’s so cute! When is the ex-wife getting written out? I want to see the CEO catch fire for love!] [Soon! According to the timeline, he proposes to Lily in exactly two months. He definitely has to take out the trash before then.] I wanted to cry, but I was just so unbelievably exhausted. Even as a side character, shouldn’t I get at least a tiny bit of happiness? Forget it. Ever since my parents divorced and threw me away like garbage, I was used to the fact that good things just weren’t meant for me. I crouched on the sidewalk, let a few tears fall, and stood up to leave. Just then, a sleek black Mercedes pulled over to the curb beside me. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a handsome, gentle face. “Faye? What are you doing out here?” I blinked, recognizing him instantly. “Sebastian? Sebastian Qu?” Sebastian smiled and nodded. “Just got out of the medical lab. I thought I recognized you. Is everything okay?” He was Hudson’s college roommate and original business partner. They had a falling out over corporate ethics, and Sebastian left to build his own insanely successful med-tech firm. Other than a quick hello at my wedding, we had barely spoken. I didn’t expect him to actually remember me, let alone step out of his car to hand me a pack of tissues. I felt my face heat up. “Thank you…” Sebastian offered a soft, understanding smile. “What happened? Crying on the street like this… did Hudson do something to you?” The Feed immediately started screaming. [Oh snap, it’s Sebastian! The tech billionaire! Good looks, infinite money, and an actual moral compass!] [I heard this dude is chronically single. Only cares about his research. His record is squeaky clean.] [Honestly, the ex-wife just has terrible taste. If she had gone after Sebastian instead, she’d be set for life and never have to worry about him cheating.] [LMAO so true. Sebastian loves his spreadsheets, not women. Marrying a guy like that would be so low-maintenance.] Sebastian… low-maintenance? Would that really work? I genuinely thought about it for a second before laughing at my own stupidity. How many times did I need to get my heart smashed before I stopped dreaming about these ridiculous fairy tales? That night, back at the empty house, I couldn’t stop thinking about the two-month countdown to Hudson’s proposal to Lily. If the timeline was right, we would be filing for divorce very soon. I needed to start packing. I was in the middle of emptying a drawer when I heard the front door click open. I walked out to the living room. Hudson was back. And standing right behind him, wearing a soft pink cardigan, was Lily. This was my first time seeing the supposed “female lead” up close. She really was stunning. Thanks to Hudson taking care of her lately, she had a healthy glow, light makeup, and smelled like expensive floral perfume. She looked at me without an ounce of guilt. “Hello, sister.” Me: … Before I could even process the audacity, she kept going. “I’m just here to help Mr. Hudson pack his luggage for his business trip. Please don’t misunderstand.” Oh, I wasn’t misunderstanding anything. Soon enough, this whole house would be yours. I gave a deeply forced, polite smile and looked at Hudson, who was drinking a glass of water. He met my eyes. “Pack a few suits for me. I’m flying to Austin for a project the day after tomorrow.” I nodded, about to stand up. Then I saw the comments calling me a nosy, meddling bitch, and I sat right back down. I looked at Lily with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hudson’s bedroom is on the second floor, first door on the left. You go ahead and pack for him.” “You’re his assistant, after all. You know exactly what dress code he needs for his meetings.” A flash of genuine shock and excitement crossed Lily’s face. She quickly suppressed it, lowering her voice to sound hesitant. “Are you sure that’s appropriate?” “It’s just clothes. Go ahead.” The second her footsteps disappeared up the stairs, Hudson slammed his glass onto the counter. He crossed the room, his face dark like a thundercloud. “Faye.” “Yeah?” “Why the hell did you just let another woman into my bedroom?” “Why not? It’s not like you ever wanted me in there.” Wanted me in there? Just breathing the same air as him used to look like it physically pained him. Hudson opened his mouth, closed it, and aggressively loosened his tie, looking incredibly frustrated. He was just about to say something when Lily came walking back down the stairs with a packed duffel bag. I smiled gracefully. “All done? Great. Have a safe trip, you two.” With that, I turned and walked back into the guest room, shutting the door. I pride myself on being incredibly dignified. I played the gracious host perfectly. My only hope now was that when the divorce papers came, he would add a few extra zeroes to the alimony check. Just like the comments said—if I couldn’t get the man, I was absolutely getting the bag. Lying in bed, trying to ignore the crushing weight in my chest, I pulled out my phone to scroll through TikTok. A message popped up from Sebastian. He said he just wrapped up a board meeting and asked if I wanted to grab dinner. I texted back that Hudson was out of town, and I was just sitting at home alone. He immediately sent a photo of a table covered in incredible food. [If you don’t mind the company, come over to this restaurant. We can talk about that grad school recommendation letter you mentioned.] Since sitting at home was only going to lead to an anxiety spiral, I threw on a jacket and ordered a car to the restaurant Sebastian booked. Putting all the complex drama aside, Sebastian really was a fantastic friend. He spoke slowly and deliberately, and he actually paid attention to how I felt. When he noticed I was picking the cilantro out of my food, he quietly flagged the waiter and swapped out three dishes for things I actually liked, including an amazing red wine braised short rib. I was having such a surprisingly good time that I snapped a photo of the table. I posted it to my Instagram story: [Huge thanks to Sebastian for the amazing dinner!] I figured Hudson was in Austin, he never looked at my social media anyway, and I didn’t bother hiding it from anyone. I didn’t expect that at eleven o’clock that night, a massive thunderstorm would roll into the city. I had just stepped out of the shower and was about to get into bed when I heard the electronic keypad on the front door beep. Thinking the wind had knocked something over, I turned on my flashlight and walked out to the hallway. Standing in the entryway was a completely soaked, dripping wet figure. His face was lethally dark. The second he saw me, Hudson crossed the room in three massive strides. He slammed me back against the hallway wall, his eyes completely bloodshot. “Just because I wouldn’t let you touch me that night, you ran straight to Sebastian?!”

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