My tab for the evening: two simple, honest dishes, barely scraping seventy dollars. The table next to me, however, was a different story. Four men in power suits, drowning in high-dollar Scotch and enough premium Napa Cabernet to flood a small cellar. Boston lobster shells piled up like tiny monuments to excess. When the waiter slid the check onto my table, I stared at the total: $1,260.50. I froze. “I only ordered two things,” I said. The waiter, with a practiced, neutral expression, nodded toward the now-empty round table. “Ma’am, your party left a moment ago. They instructed us to put the check on your table.” My friends? I had never seen them before in my life. I demanded the security footage. The manager, a thick-set man in a black suit, sneered when I pointed out the man in the video simply pointing at me, then swaggering out. “Don’t try to pull a fast one,” he growled. “You came in together.” That was the moment I pulled out my phone and dialed the number. The manager’s cold smirk instantly melted away. 01 The screen on my phone glowed, showing 7:00 PM. Noah’s text popped up: Traffic’s a nightmare, babe. Maybe thirty minutes late. Go ahead and grab a table. I quickly texted back a ‘thumbs up’ emoji and tucked the phone away. Tonight was our three-year wedding anniversary. A month ago, Noah had booked this place, Aura on the Ascent. He’d promised a refined atmosphere and exquisite food—a proper celebration. I sat at the window-side table for two, the clean, cream linen crisp beneath my elbows. A waiter poured me some chilled lemon water. I opened the menu. The prices were predictably steep. I bypassed the showy entrees and ordered a couple of our favorites—a delicate Pan-Seared Halibut and a plate of buttery, seasonal Asparagus with Hollandaise. Just the two dishes, well under a hundred dollars. I didn’t want to be extravagant, but I wanted the night to be perfect. I looked out the window. The city lights were beginning their nightly display, the traffic below looking like streaks of colored ribbon. “Waiter! Another bottle of the Macallan!” A loud, booming voice shattered the restaurant’s cultivated quiet. I flinched, glancing at the round table next to mine. Four men, all about forty, dressed in glossy, expensive suits. Their hair was slicked back, and their gold watches flashed under the ambient light. Their table was a disaster of high-end consumption. The man in charge, addressed as “Mitch” by the others, was scarlet-faced and waving his phone, bragging loudly. “I told the CEO, ‘Under five hundred million, we don’t even talk.’ The man poured me another drink right there!” His companions immediately fell all over themselves with sycophantic praise. “Legend, Mitch!” “We’re just happy to drink the runoff, boss.” I turned back to the window. I had no energy to waste on people who treated every public space like their own private stage. My two dishes arrived quickly. The halibut was perfectly browned; the asparagus was a tender, vibrant green. I left them untouched, waiting for Noah. The clamor next door was reaching a crescendo. Mitch seemed to notice me. He raised his wine glass and his eyes drifted over, a vague, knowing smirk on his lips. He spoke to the man beside him in a voice calibrated just loud enough for me to hear. “These young girls, coming to a place like this, ordering two sides just to take a picture for Instagram. All for show.” I didn’t even blink. Dealing with that kind of insecurity would only pull me down to their level. They drained another round, then finally seemed ready to disperse. Mitch staggered to his feet and wobbled toward the host stand. The remaining three men slapped each other on the back, and as they passed my table, one of them made a point of bumping my chair. I held my tongue. I saw Mitch interact with the server near the front. He said something, then explicitly pointed in my direction. The server nodded. Mitch and his buddies then swaggered straight out the main doors. 02 I watched them disappear, feeling a vague sense of irritation, but nothing more. Maybe he’d just asked the server to take his call at his table. Ten minutes later, Noah texted: In the lobby! Be right up! My mood lifted instantly. I reached for my phone, ready to tell the kitchen to warm up my order. A young server approached my table, a check presenter in hand. He placed it gently on the table. “Ma’am, your total comes to $1,260.50.” I was stunned. I picked up the check and opened it. A long, dense list of items—Scotch, the pricey Cabernet, the Boston Lobster—everything the table next to me had consumed. I looked up at the server. “Did you make a mistake? I only ordered two dishes.” He maintained a professional, if distant, smile. “No mistake, ma’am.” He gestured to the now-busser-cleared table beside mine. “The gentlemen who just left, your friends? They told us the bill was being settled by you.” Friends? I didn’t know them. A spike of pure heat rushed through me, but I forced my voice to remain even. “I don’t know those men. Please get your manager.” The smile dropped from his face, replaced by a look of stern professionalism. “Ma’am, please don’t joke. Mr. Hawthorne was very clear. He said you were a friend, and he was leaving the tab.” “I’m telling you one more time: I don’t know them.” My voice was now cold. “Get your manager.” The server looked flustered, clearly not equipped for a confrontation. He mumbled something into his earpiece. Moments later, a man in a black suit with a “Floor Manager” badge—Gary Benson—approached. He was stout and impeccably groomed, with a tight, judgmental expression. “Ma’am, I’m the manager. Gary Benson. What seems to be the trouble?” I pushed the bill toward him. “This isn’t mine. I ordered less than a hundred dollars in food. This three-course bill belongs to the table that just left. Your server has mistakenly charged it to me.” Gary Benson picked up the check, scanned it, then looked me up and down. A faint, contemptuous smile played on his lips. “Ma’am, I just confirmed with the host stand. Mr. Hawthorne explicitly stated you would be settling up. Look, we’re all adults here. It’s a bit over a thousand dollars. No need to make a scene, is there?” His tone was heavy with implication, suggesting I was a cheap opportunist trying to dine and dash. “A scene?” I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Strangers ate and drank a thousand dollars of food and told a restaurant I would pay for it. And you think I’m the one making a scene? Is this how Aura on the Ascent does business?” His face hardened. “Ma’am, please watch your tone. We operate on good faith here. We have every reason to believe you were part of that party. Trying to skip out on the bill now won’t work.” His voice was low, but several nearby tables heard the exchange. Heads snapped toward me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled scorn. I felt the blood rush to my face. Not from shame, but from pure, incandescent rage. 03 “I am not skipping out. I will not pay a single cent for what I didn’t consume,” I said, locking eyes with Gary Benson. “Proof?” I countered. “Where is your proof that we were a party?” He was momentarily taken aback, but quickly recovered, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked down at me with disdain. “Proof? Our server heard Mr. Hawthorne say it with his own ears. Besides, you came in around the same time and sat this close to them. You expect us to believe you didn’t know them?” The sheer audacity of the logic made me speechless for a moment. “So, because my table was adjacent, I’m financially liable for strangers? Is this restaurant’s seating chart based on ‘Friendship Affinity’?” My voice was dripping with sarcasm. Gary Benson’s mask of pseudo-professionalism finally shattered. “Ma’am, I will tell you one last time. You are settling this bill tonight. Otherwise, we will be forced to follow protocol.” “And what is your protocol?” “We have the right to escort you to the security office until you decide to be reasonable and pay up.” He glanced pointedly toward the main doors. Two large security guards in black uniforms immediately detached themselves from the entrance and took up menacing positions flanking my table. The surrounding diners began whispering. “Look how ordinary she’s dressed. Probably trying to scam them.” “Right? Who comes to a place like this and doesn’t know their party?” “Trying to fake it till you make it, I guess. Never works at Aura.” The comments felt like pinpricks. In my thirty years, I had never faced such blatant public humiliation. My hands, hidden beneath the table, were clenched into white-knuckled fists. I took a slow, deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. Arguing was useless. They had already decided I was a fraud. “I want to see the security footage,” I stated. Gary Benson scoffed as if I’d suggested something hilarious. “Fine. But I’ll warn you, if that footage confirms you were part of the group, settling the bill will be the least of your problems.” “And if the footage proves we were not together?” I pressed. “Then the meal is on me, and I will apologize to you in front of every guest here,” he said with absolute certainty, clearly believing he had me trapped. “Deal.” I stood up. “Let’s go.” Gary Benson led the way, me following under the gaze of the entire dining room, with the two security guards trailing behind like escorts for a criminal. A wave of dizziness washed over me, not from fear, but from the raw heat of my fury. This anniversary, meant to be warm and romantic, had been completely poisoned by this man’s corruption. 04 The manager’s office smelled of stale coffee and a faint, metallic scent of a bad temper. Gary Benson sat behind his desk, indicating a small, uncomfortable stool opposite him. “Sit.” I didn’t. I stood, facing him across the desk. “The footage?” He took his time, slowly picking up a mug, blowing on the surface, and taking a deliberate sip. “Relax, kid. This is Aura on the Ascent. Our security is state-of-the-art. No one’s running away from this.” He clicked a few times on his computer, pulled up a video window, and spun the monitor toward me. “See for yourself.” The screen showed the host stand’s camera angle. I watched the man, Mitch Hawthorne, walk up to the counter. He spoke to the server, and then, exactly as described, he raised his hand and pointed in the vague direction of my table. The footage stopped there. Gary Benson leaned back in his chair, a smug, triumphant look on his face. “Well? There it is. He points right at you and tells our server, ‘That’s my friend, put it on her tab.’ Now, what do you have to say?” I stared at the frozen image, my mind racing. The footage was deliberately misleading. First, there was no sound. What they actually said was entirely his word against mine. Second, the angle was too limited. It showed the pointing, but not the server’s facial expression or any prior exchange. Third, why only this clip? Where was the full, uncut footage from the moment they walked in until they left? “I want to see the complete, uncut video log,” I said. “From the moment they entered until they left, from all available angles. Especially any that might have ambient audio.” His victorious smile flickered, then settled back into place. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am. Our dining room cameras are silent to protect guest privacy. As for the full log, that involves other patrons. We can’t just hand it over.” It was the perfect, airtight excuse. I understood then. They were in this together. Gary Benson was never interested in resolving a mistake; he intended to pin this bill on me from the start. Seeing my silence, he must have assumed I was defeated. He stood and placed a patronizing hand on my shoulder. “Listen to me, little girl. In business, reputation matters. A thousand bucks isn’t much. Chalk it up to a lesson learned. You take the loss, and you leave. But if you keep pushing this, it’s going to get very ugly, and trust me, you don’t want that.” His voice was laced with an undeniable threat. I jerked his hand away and took a step back. “I told you. It’s not my money. I won’t pay a cent.” His last thread of patience snapped. The false professionalism evaporated, replaced by something dark and ugly. “You’re asking for it, huh? Fine. We’ll see how long you can hold out!” He grabbed the desk intercom and barked a command: “Tony, Mike, get her back out to her table! And keep her there! If she tries to bolt, I don’t care what you have to do!” 05 I was physically escorted—practically held—by the two guards and placed back in my original seat. Gary Benson followed, standing over me, and raised his voice to ensure everyone in the restaurant could hear. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the disruption. This woman consumed over a thousand dollars in food and beverage and is now attempting to skip the bill. We are handling the situation and apologize for the inconvenience.” The moment he finished speaking, I became the center of the restaurant. All eyes were on me, filled with a sickening mix of contempt, amusement, and self-righteous judgment. I felt like an exhibit, a spectacle. The blood was pounding in my ears. Then I saw Noah. He had just stepped into the restaurant and was scanning the room. He saw me—trapped between two guards—and his smile vanished. He hurried toward my table. “Naomi, what is going on?” “Stay back!” I yelled at him. I didn’t want him involved. I didn’t want him to see me in this humiliating, vulnerable position on our anniversary. Noah stopped dead, his eyes wide with panic. Gary Benson saw Noah and his eyes lit up; he had found a fresh target. “Oh, your friend showed up? Perfect. Since she won’t settle the bill, you can take care of it. $1,260.50.” He shoved the check toward Noah. Noah looked from the bill to me, his face registering pure confusion and disbelief. “We didn’t order any of this!” “She said the same thing,” Benson snapped, waving a dismissive hand. “I don’t care if you’re a party or not. Someone is paying this bill tonight. Otherwise, neither of you is leaving.” He pointed a finger at me, addressing Noah. “I suggest you pay up now. Otherwise, I’m calling the police and pressing charges for disturbing the peace and dining-and-dashing. You’ll have a permanent record. This isn’t just about a thousand dollars anymore.” It was a blatant, ugly threat. Watching Noah’s helpless, anxious face, watching Gary Benson’s triumphant smirk, and feeling the cold judgment of the crowd, the last wire of my patience snapped. Fury and humiliation erupted in my chest like a violent geyser. But I knew I couldn’t lose control. If I laid a hand on him, I’d lose the battle. I had to be surgical. I slowly turned back to Gary Benson, speaking each word with careful deliberation. “Are you absolutely certain you want to call the police?” Benson crossed his arms, leaning in with a mocking laugh. “What, you scared now? Too late! Even if you pay, I’m going to make sure you know the price of causing trouble in my house!” He was reveling in his power. “Good,” I nodded. I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone.

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The last gift my wife of fifty years gave me was her suicide note. It was our golden anniversary. I had cooked a table full of all her favorite dishes, but when I pushed open the study door, Camille was lying in a pool of blood, her wrist deeply slashed. An open will rested beside her. My hands trembling, I picked it up. The last line of text, written with terrible force, seemed to cut right through the paper: The biggest regret of my life was testifying falsely for Jesse at our wedding and sending Ronan into prison, ruining his entire existence. For fifty years, I have been tormented by regret. Now that my beloved is gone, I do not wish to live alone. After I die, please bury me with Jesse. As for Ronan… I only pray we never meet again in the next life. A violent buzzing filled my ears. It was Jesse who had attacked me with a knife at our wedding, nearly costing me the ability to have children. Yet my wife called him her beloved, and died for him? At the funeral, my children had urged me: “Dad, just honor Mom’s last wish. We’ll buy you a better plot.” “Yes, you made Mom and Uncle Jesse miserable for a lifetime. Are you going to keep them apart even in death?” Miserable? What about me? A knot of pure, desperate shock choked my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I was, quite literally, killed by the sheer force of the betrayal. When I opened my eyes again, the officiant’s booming voice rang out: “Bride, Camille Wallace, do you take Ronan Burke to be your husband?” A sudden, tearing pain shot through my lower abdomen, and I looked down— Jesse was there, his eyes red, plunging the knife deep into my gut. “Ronan!” As the blinding agony exploded, Camille rushed forward in a panic. I watched her, a knot of confusion and hurt tightening inside me. Even if she had later turned away, the terror in her eyes right now wasn’t faked. I crumpled in pain, waiting for her to rush to me, to hold me, as she had in the previous life. But she ran straight past me, sweeping Jesse into her arms. “Jesse! Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” “Camille, I didn’t mean to, I’m so scared…” Jesse cried, his voice trembling. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. No one will ever hurt you again.” Camille patted his back gently. My vision blurred from the searing pain in my abdomen, but the wound in my heart felt deeper than any knife cut. “Ronan! Camille, what are you doing? Call an ambulance!” Mrs. Wallace frantically tried to press down on my wound, afraid to touch the hilt of the knife. Mr. Wallace’s face was ashen: “Camille! What in God’s name is going on here?” It all happened too fast. Jesse had his back to the guests, so only Camille, standing beside me, had seen the truth. The arm she had wrapped around Jesse tightened. “Ronan took the knife and stabbed himself, then shoved it into Jesse’s hand.” I stared at her, utterly disbelieving. Our eyes met. A flicker of guilt crossed hers, but was instantly replaced by a hardened, cold resolve. Camille had been reborn, too. And she had chosen, without hesitation, to protect Jesse. “No, it was Jesse who stabbed me…” I gasped out the weak rebuttal, fighting the pain. “Enough, Ronan!” Camille cut me off sharply. “Are you really going to slander Jesse, even now? Jesse is so gentle, he wouldn’t even step on a bug; how could he possibly attack you with a knife?” She took a deep breath, scanning the assembled friends and family. “The wedding is off. I absolutely will not marry a malicious hypocrite like this.” At her words, a look of wild, triumphant euphoria erupted in Jesse’s eyes. Mrs. Wallace, cradling my blood-soaked body, was sobbing, nearly fainting: “Camille, Ronan is losing so much blood! Get him to a hospital first! Talk about all this later!” Mr. Wallace was shaking with pure rage. “Stop it! Ronan’s parents died saving your life! Our family owes him a debt beyond measure! If you dare call off this wedding, I’ll disown you!” Camille scoffed, gripping Jesse’s hand tighter. “Yes, his parents saved me. Does that give him the right to use that debt to hurt Jesse so recklessly? Am I supposed to sacrifice my whole life, just because of that, and be prevented from marrying the man I love?” The man she loved? It turned out that fifty years of marriage meant nothing compared to the idealized first love she secretly carried in her heart. The woman before me was no longer the girl who had once knelt at my parents’ grave, vowing to care for me for the rest of my life. She was a chilling stranger. Camille’s voice was utterly final. “Mom, Dad, even if you throw me out of the family today, even if I lose everything, I will never regret this. I am canceling this wedding.” Before she led Jesse away, she gave me a cold, steel warning: “Ronan, this lifetime, I will never let a scumbag like you hurt Jesse again.” “If you try any more of your despicable schemes to frame him, I will personally see you sent to prison! You’ll have plenty of time to reflect in there!” “Camille.” I used every ounce of strength to call out her name. She didn’t turn back. My vision began to cloud, and darkness rushed in like a tide. Camille. Since you’ve made your choice in this life, I swear, I won’t repeat the mistakes of the last one. When I woke again, the tearing pain in my abdomen reminded me this was no dream. “Ronan, you’re awake? Does it hurt? The doctor said the blade just missed, so it’s not life-threatening, but your kidney was damaged, and it’s possible you may…” Mrs. Wallace choked back a sob. “You may never be a father.” Mr. Wallace sighed with guilt. “Ronan, you know we see you as our own. We believe you. Camille has just been completely infatuated by that young man, causing all this madness.” “You focus on healing. We’ll re-do the wedding in three days. This time, no one will dare disrupt it!” A welcome warmth spread through my chest. After my parents died saving Camille, the Wallaces took me in and raised me as their son. In the previous life, when Camille grew cold after the wedding, they constantly argued with her on my behalf. Their kindness was real and profound. I pressed my lips together. “The wedding… let’s skip it. Her heart is no longer with me. You can’t force a vine to grow where it won’t.” Mrs. Wallace squeezed my hand, tears streaming down her face. “Ronan, you two grew up together, everything was fine before… How did it come to this?” I offered a bitter smile. I knew Camille’s fierce single-mindedness better than anyone. In the previous life, she could take her own life out of overwhelming regret for Jesse. Now, convinced she owed him, she would stand against the world for him. Seeing my firm attitude, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace could only sigh, urging me to rest before leaving. The room fell silent again. I dialed a familiar number. “I want to go to Charleston. As soon as possible.” “Big brother Ronan? You and Camille… okay. There’s a train in three days. I’ll meet you at the station.” … I hung up, remembering that my father’s pocket watch was still in the honeymoon suite. It was the last memento my parents left me. Gritting my teeth against the cramping pain in my abdomen, I leaned on the wall, inching step by painful step toward the room I had so lovingly prepared. Just as I reached the door, I heard Jesse’s panicked voice: “Camille, I’m scared… Ronan lost so much blood. What if he dies?” “If he dies, will I be a murderer? I don’t want to go to jail, Camille, I’m terrified…” Camille cut him off, her voice laced with protective affection. “Don’t be afraid. Ronan is a pest, he always survives.” “Besides, I’m here. Only I saw what happened yesterday. If I say he stabbed himself, then he stabbed himself.” “Jesse, I swear, this lifetime, I will never let anyone hurt you again.” “Camille, you’re so good to me…” The moonlight cast their intertwined shadows on the door, intimate and piercing. How utterly ludicrous. In the past life, I had stomach issues, and Camille, trying to please me, frequently went to the hospital, where she met Jesse, then a medical intern. I took pity on him later, funding his post-grad studies. Last time, after he stabbed me, Camille had hated him. “You’re too kind-hearted, but some people are just ungrateful wolves who bite the hand that feeds them!” Now, she was the one protecting that “wolf.” And I had been gutted, literally, for it. The surgical wound gave a sharp pull, the pain shooting straight to my heart. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Camille instantly shielded Jesse behind her, looking at me with undisguised disgust. “What do you want? Haven’t you hurt Jesse enough?” My heart chilled. I was about to speak, but Jesse preempted me, collapsing to his knees in a flood of manufactured tears: “Big brother Ronan, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I apologize. Please, don’t press charges, don’t send me to jail, okay? I’m begging you!” Camille quickly yanked him up. “Jesse, get up! With me here, let’s see who dares send you to jail!” Jesse clung to her, his eyes rimmed with red. “Big brother Ronan, Camille and I truly love each other. You have so many people who love you… can’t you just let her go? Please?” As he spoke, he moved to grab me excitedly, but deliberately knocked the pocket watch off the table. Clatter! The glass face of the watch shattered. The photograph inside fell into a puddle of spilled tea. My parents’ smiling faces were quickly soaked and dissolved by the dark liquid. Smack! I couldn’t hold back anymore. I raised my hand and slapped his feigned innocent face with all my strength. “I have everything? So I deserve to be stabbed by you, to lose the ability to have children, to be slandered?” “I deserve to have the last memory my parents left me utterly destroyed by you, too?” Camille gently cupped Jesse’s swollen cheek, snapping at me: “It’s just a broken watch! So what if it’s broken? How much is it even worth? Ronan, do you really have to be so aggressive?” A broken watch… This watch was my father’s most cherished item. When Camille and I were young, she once said it was beautiful, and my father immediately gave it to her. After my parents died, I wept day and night. It was Camille who had placed our family photo inside and returned it to me. “See, Ronan, your aunt and uncle are always with you. And I will always be with you, too.” She had long forgotten that vow. Only I had remained, like a pitiful fool clinging to the memory. My voice was thick with emotion: “That was my father’s last belonging. The picture inside—you put it there yourself… You really don’t remember?” Camille paused for a fraction of a second, then stubbornly asserted: “Even if it’s a memento, you can’t be so cruel…” “I’m cruel?” I laughed, shaking with fury, and pointed at Jesse. “Camille, Jesse stabbed me and nearly cost me the chance to have children! You’re protecting him and calling me cruel?” “How is he going to pay for that? He deserves to spend the rest of his life atoning in prison!” Jesse was trembling with anxiety and reached out to grab me. “Big brother Ronan… I know I should die for this, but please don’t send me away… I truly know I was wrong…” I pulled my hand back. He stumbled, falling heavily, his right hand landing hard on the shards of glass. Jesse cried out in pain, clutching his bloody right hand. “Ah! Glass in my hand… it hurts so bad…” “Jesse? Are you okay? I’m taking you to the emergency room right now!” Camille anxiously helped him up, her gaze fixed on me, colder than ice. “Ronan, you had better pray Jesse’s hand is fine. If anything happens to his hand, if he can’t work—I will personally put you in prison! And you’ll stay there until you die!” With that, she didn’t look at me again, supporting him as they left. Tears slid into the corner of my mouth. Salty and bitter. Camille. Last life, you brought the man who hurt me to justice, saying the law was absolute. Now, you’re threatening to send the innocent me to prison for his sake? I silently packed my bag. I only took the old photos of my parents and my train ticket to Charleston. The tuxedo Mrs. Wallace had made for me, I folded neatly, preparing to return it to her. The woman on the phone’s voice was calm and steady: “Big brother Ronan, you just focus on getting away safely. I’ll be waiting for you at the station.” “Good. Thank you, Wren.” A flicker of warmth touched my heart. “Stop thanking me. Just get here safely.” Just as I hung up, the door was violently kicked open. Camille stared at the tuxedo on the bed, her fury twisting into a cold smile. “Ronan! Jesse’s hand nerves were damaged; he’ll never hold a scalpel again! And you still have the nerve to think about a wedding?” “Out of respect for your parents saving me back then, I’ll give you one last chance. Come to the hospital with me, apologize to Jesse! Otherwise…” She paused, her eyes turning utterly glacial. “Don’t blame me for abandoning all pretense of history and desecrating your parents’ headstones!” All the blood in my body instantly froze. She had sworn on their graves to care for me for life. Now, she was using their final resting place to threaten me? “Camille, you’re insane…” Camille gripped my wrist and roughly dragged me toward the door. “I’m insane because you forced me! Now come apologize to Jesse!” … In the hospital room, Jesse leaned against the headboard, his face pale. “Camille, it’s fine… Big brother Ronan didn’t mean it. He’s just upset that I can never be a surgeon now…” Camille embraced him tenderly, then turned to me, her voice sharp: “Kneel down and apologize, until Jesse forgives you! Do it now, or I swear I’ll follow through with my threat!” I stood frozen. Seeing the look in Camille’s eyes, I knew she was serious. If I didn’t comply, she truly would vandalize my parents’ graves. And… I was running out of time to catch my train. My knees slammed heavily onto the floor. My forehead struck the tile. “I’m sorry.” Thud. Thud. Thud. One knock after another, the dull sounds echoing in the silent room. Blood quickly bloomed on the floor. After I don’t know how many times, Jesse finally spoke, his voice muffled: “Big brother Ronan, you’re bleeding. Stop, stop. I forgive you… Please get up.” Camille gently kissed his cheek. “You’re too soft, you know.” She looked at me then, her eyes full of weariness and annoyance. “Now get out. Are you expecting me to bandage you up?” I pushed my numb body up, staggering out of the room. … As the train sped south, Camille and Jesse’s wedding reception was in full swing back in Northport. Mrs. Wallace rushed into the banquet hall, clutching a letter, her voice shaking: “Camille! Ronan left! The letter says he wants to see the cherry blossoms in Charleston. Who does he even know in Charleston?” “Impossible! Ronan would never leave me! He’s probably just throwing a tantrum; he’ll be back in a couple of days.” Camille impatiently glanced at the letter, scoffing. “Charleston? What kind of excuse is that… He must be going to find that…” Mid-sentence, the smile on her face froze. Charleston… That person—Ronan wasn’t supposed to meet her again for another ten years. Unless— Ronan had also been reborn?

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The moment I bought Blair Sutton at that exclusive private charity auction, with a bid that made the entire room go silent, she laid down three non-negotiable rules. First, I had to give her an unlimited-use platinum Amex. Second, I was to cover the fallout and legal costs for any behavior she chose to engage in. And finally, I was absolutely forbidden from asking about her private life. Only if I agreed to all three would she consent to leave with me. Everyone in my circle thought she was delusional, an amateur playing a high-stakes game. They were convinced I’d never agree to such brazen conditions. I simply nodded. “Just promise me you’ll take care of your face.” For the next three years, I poured well over a hundred million dollars into her life—an exorbitant price to pay for a ghost. My associates often laughed, whispering that I had lost my mind to a fleeting obsession. But I ignored them. I always got what I wanted, no matter the cost. The day my father died—the day my world was already cracking—she totaled one of my cars in a reckless street race. I shoved my grief down and rushed to the emergency room to handle the mess. But before I could step inside, I heard Blair talking to her friends. “Blair, he’s wrapped around your finger, like a house pet,” one giggled. “You’ll be set for life when you marry him.” “Seriously. Once the old man is gone, the Harrington fortune is all yours, right?” another chimed in. A chorus of easy laughter followed. Then came Blair’s voice, sharp and cold, cutting through the noise. It was the voice of a queen delivering a sentence. “Marry him? Please. He’s a walking ATM who got lucky. He doesn’t have the spine.” The door swung inward. In the stunned silence of her friends, I walked calmly toward Blair. I ignored the faint look of alarm that flickered across her features. I gently, meticulously brushed a speck of dirt from her forehead, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Good. Your face is fine.” 1 Blair jerked her head away, impatience radiating off her. “It was barely a scratch, Lachlan. God, are you always going to be this dramatic?” The sudden tension was thick enough to choke on. Her friends rushed to smooth things over, making clumsy small talk, covertly trying to figure out if I’d heard the contempt in their earlier conversation. Blair shot me a slightly anxious glance, too. Looking at that face—a mirror image of the woman I truly loved—I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I shook my head slowly. “I only just arrived.” She exhaled, relief softening her expression. But that moment was immediately broken by a flurry of activity at the entrance. Finn Delaney. Her childhood friend. Blair’s entire demeanor changed. She rose quickly, her voice taking on a delicate, soothing quality I had never once heard directed at me. “Finn, why did you come? I told you I was fine. You shouldn’t have run out in this downpour.” Finn clutched an umbrella, his eyes welling up with tears the moment he saw her scraped elbow. “I was so worried. When I saw the news alert, I just… panicked.” Blair gently wiped a tear from his cheek. “It’s late. I’ll drive you home.” With that, the two of them gathered their things and left. I stood there, silently watching, while the others shifted uncomfortably. This was the arrangement, after all. The first rule she set the day I bought her: I don’t ask about her private life. I don’t ask about Finn. Before she reached the exit, Blair threw a casual line over her shoulder. “My car is wrecked. Take mine. You figure out your own way home.” Then, she carefully draped her cashmere coat over Finn’s shoulders and walked out, her arm linked with his. She didn’t spare a single thought for how I would get home on a stormy night, dealing with the shock of my father’s death. “Lachlan, Blair she…” one of the friends stammered. “Save it,” I interrupted. I knew the calculus. In Blair’s mind, I would always be secondary to Finn. The few scraps of patience and genuine warmth she possessed were entirely devoted to him. I had long since accepted the truth: no matter how perfectly that face resembled the one I yearned for, she was never going to be her. But just to look at the contours of that face—the face I saw in my dreams—I was willing to pay any price, endure any humiliation. I called my driver, then left to begin making arrangements for my father’s funeral. It was well past midnight when I finally returned home. The lights were on in the living room, which surprised me. Usually, she was asleep by now. Seeing the exhaustion etched on my face, Blair frowned. “Why are you home so late?” “Business,” I replied curtly. She scoffed, disbelieving. “Honestly, what are you trying to prove?” “I only went to comfort Finn. He’s sensitive—a little boy, really. He panicked and ran out in the rain to see me. Sending him home was the least I could do.” There was zero consideration for the fact that I had dropped everything and rushed to her side in the middle of the night, consumed by my own sorrow. I massaged my head, too tired to argue. Seeing my weary state, Blair walked up to me and grabbed my chin. A gesture of forced affection, she leaned in for a kiss, an attempt at a generous truce. I turned my head, avoiding her lips. Her face darkened immediately. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lachlan. What’s with the drama?” “My father died. I’m not in the mood.” Blair froze. I didn’t wait for a reply. I just turned and walked into the master bedroom. A while later, Blair slipped into bed beside me, smelling faintly of the expensive, shared shower gel. She took my hand gently. “I didn’t know,” she murmured. I said nothing. She continued, talking mostly to herself. “Finn’s birthday is coming up. I saw an old Patek Philippe in a magazine, a limited-edition one. It was beautiful.” “I tried to find it, but it’s considered an antique—unavailable. Then I remembered you have one just like it in your safety deposit box. You never wear it. Why don’t you just give it to Finn? He’d love it.” My headache worsened, and my voice was dangerously quiet. “That was my mother’s watch. I will not give it away.” The hand that held mine went rigid. It was the first time I had ever refused her. She bit her lip, snatched her hand away, and got out of bed, pulling on her clothes. When she left, the door slammed shut with a violence that rattled the floorboards. I simply turned over and fell into a heavy, restless sleep. 2 I drove myself to the funeral the next morning. The moment I opened the car door, I spotted a pair of men’s boxers on the passenger seat, noticeably soiled with a white residue. This car had only been driven by Blair when she took Finn home the night before. I was already running late. I quickly swapped cars and headed to the ceremony. The guests were beginning to arrive when Blair and Finn finally sauntered in, noticeably late. “Finn wasn’t feeling well this morning,” Blair announced coolly. “We had a bit of a slow start.” “Take a seat,” I replied, keeping my eyes lowered. The room was warm, and Finn eventually slipped off his designer trench coat. In an instant, he became the focal point of every whispering glance. He was wearing a blazing crimson shirt. Finn shrank back, sensing the sudden scrutiny, and hid behind Blair. “What is it? Why are they all looking at me?” he whispered, clutching her sleeve. Blair stroked his hair, sheltering him and offering soft words of comfort. My temper, usually iron-clad, finally snapped. I fixed him with an icy stare. “You will either take that garment off immediately, or you will get out.” “Wearing bright red at my father’s funeral? Mr. Delaney, your manners are impeccable.” The guests around us held their breath. Finn’s eyes went instantly red, as if he had suffered the ultimate offense. He bit his lower lip. “Fine! I’ll go!” He bolted, grabbing his coat, which had been tossed over a chair, and running out the door. Blair glared at me, her face dark with fury, and chased after him. I shut my eyes tightly, taking several deep breaths. “My apologies. Please, continue,” I said, and everyone quickly returned to their seats, pretending the scene had never happened. I sank into my chair, drained. I could already picture the scathing gossip that would follow this event. A sharp ache rose in my nose and throat. If only she were here. Blair returned after the ceremony ended, her clothes slightly rumpled. She marched over to me, her brow furrowed in anger. “Did you really have to humiliate Finn in front of all those people over something so petty?” “He’s just a kid; he doesn’t understand those rules. Why punish him?” “Was this about me going to his place to comfort him the other day? That was days ago, why are you still so insecure?” Her relentless accusations made me laugh, a dry, bitter sound. Ordinarily, I would have swallowed my anger, but not today. “It was my father’s funeral,” I countered, the sarcasm heavy. “Who, exactly, was trying to stir up trouble?” She flinched, avoiding my gaze. After a long pause, she offered a condescending compromise. “Fine, I’ll talk to him later. But he is still not your place to discipline.” “Finn fell when he ran out earlier. He needs a check-up. You own a hospital—get them to prepare the best suite immediately. A full battery of tests. Do that, and we can put this behind us.” I refused without hesitation. “Absolutely not.” I agreed to clean up her messes, but I wouldn’t fund her lover’s medical care. “You are becoming increasingly impossible,” Blair spat. She ripped the white mourning corsage from her lapel, threw it on the ground, and stormed out. I arrived home that night to find Finn seated at my place at the dining table. In front of him was the signature wellness smoothies my housekeeper, Mrs. Wong, always prepared for me after stressful days. Finn looked up, a triumphant smirk touching his lips. “Locke’s home? Blair said Mrs. Wong’s smoothies is the most nourishing, so I’m having some to help me recover.” He gestured to the glass. “You should have a glass, too.” I barely spared him a glance, walking past the table. Blair rushed to intercept me, looping her arm through mine, her tone unusually soft. “I thought it over. You don’t want to give up the hospital suite? Fine. Our house doctor can handle it, and Finn can stay here. It’s the same thing.” “He likes the sunniest master suite—the one that’s yours now. Give it to him. He needs a nice, bright room to recover in and keep his spirits up.” Blair was utterly certain I would agree. After all these years, I had spoiled her beyond measure. She asked, and I gave. Whether it was an impossible reservation or a million-dollar hypercar, I never blinked. 3 Before I could answer, Blair pulled me toward the dining table. She pushed a can of pickles toward me. “I got those pickles you love from that place downtown. Eat up.” I stared at the meal. It wasn’t my favorite. It was hers. The one I had lost. Since her accident, this dish had become my self-deceiving comfort food. I picked up a piece with my forks. It tasted exactly the way I remembered. Seeing me eat, Blair’s expression softened slightly. Finn, jealousy flashing in his eyes, quickly scooped a piece of roasted pork filet into my plate. He immediately gasped and stammered, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Locke! I forgot your father… because of his heart condition…” “I’m always so clumsy. Don’t be mad.” He gave a desperate, pleading look to Blair. Blair patted Finn’s head, her expression sickeningly indulgent. “It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.” She looked at me, her voice flat. “Finn is young. Let it go.” She then rolled up her sleeves and began deftly peeling a shrimp for him. Faced with their sickeningly intimate dynamic, I lost all appetite. I put down my forks. Seeing I was done, Blair seized the opportunity. “Finn’s lease on his apartment is up soon. You should give him one of your properties to tide him over.” “Your downtown penthouse is perfect. The decor is gorgeous, and it’s right near where he needs to look for work.” The penthouse she was referring to was the apartment I had purchased to be my wedding home. Every detail of the interior design was personally chosen by her. I felt a sudden, hollow laugh bubble up inside me. My complete lack of boundaries had truly warped her perception of reality. She believed I would never stop making concessions for her. But when it came to the one I loved, I had a line. “Blair,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Are you asking me to finance your mistress?” Finn shot up, his face crimson with indignation. “Locke, I know you resent my closeness with Blair, but we are innocent! Our relationship is completely pure.” He turned tearfully to Blair. “I’m interrupting. I’m so sorry, Blair, I’ll leave right now.” Blair quickly grabbed his hand, her gaze turning frigid as she faced me. “Apologize to him.” I scoffed. “Did I say anything untrue?” “Or was that pair of soiled boxers in my passenger seat not yours?” Finn began to hyperventilate, his face swelling with blood. He shook his head wildly. “You’ve completely misunderstood! I was just really upset that day, and Blair… she just used her hand to help me. We’ve been close since childhood. It’s nothing!” Blair pulled him into a hug, stroking his back reassuringly. “You don’t need to explain yourself. He’s been paranoid all week.” She looked at me with cold contempt. “Do you actually believe being this irrational is going to make me look at you differently?” “You need to find a limit for your tantrums. I’ll spend more time with you later, okay?” “But Finn cannot be stressed right now.” “If you keep this up, I’ll just take Finn and we’ll both move out.” I recognized the threat. In the past, that sentence alone was enough to make me cave immediately. I would apologize profusely, meet her demand, and she would then “graciously” forgive me. But my attention was suddenly elsewhere. It was fixed on the phone in my hand. A text message. It was from a number I knew intimately, a number I was convinced would never contact me again. Locke, wait for me. Four simple words. I gripped the phone, tears suddenly blurring my vision. 4 Was this a cruel prank? Or was she, the one I’d mourned for three years, truly back? The possibility made my eyes burn. The phone was snatched from my grasp. Blair frowned as she looked at me. “Why are you crying?” She glanced at the screen, but it had already gone dark. She tried to input a few common passcodes, failing each time. Frustrated, she tossed the phone onto the table. “Did you hear what I said? Are you listening to me?” My mind was a fog of shock and desperate hope. I couldn’t waste any more energy on this charade. I grabbed my phone and stood up. “I think we both need some space to cool down.” Seeing my retreating back, Blair looked utterly stunned. It was the first time I had walked away first. In every argument, she was the one who stormed off, and I was the one who chased after her, apologizing, begging her to return. Maybe he’s just really upset this time, she thought. He’ll be over it in a few days. After that night, I didn’t return home for nearly a week, nor did I text Blair. She started to panic. Her friends were quick to reassure her. “Please, Blair, don’t worry. We all see how much he loves you.” “He’s a man; let him cool off. He’ll come crawling back to his goddess, he always does.” They laughed. Finn nodded, refilling her wine glass. “Exactly, Blair. It’s nothing. Locke is just throwing a tantrum, waiting for you to come beg him.” “Besides, his dad just died. You’re the closest thing he has left. He’s not going to risk losing you.” Blair remembered seeing her own face as the wallpaper on my phone that night. The image was grainy, probably a stolen photo, but it was unmistakably her. I know he’s obsessed with me. He wouldn’t just throw this away. She finally relaxed. “You’re right. Lachlan takes over as CEO next week. I’ll show up at his succession party. He’ll fall back in line then.” At the party, I was going through the motions, toasting with partners. After that initial text, the number had gone silent again. I forced myself to be patient. If it was truly her, she would come to me when the time was right. I just had to wait. I took a sip of champagne, then saw Blair walk into the ballroom with Finn. My smile vanished. Finn was wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit—the exact suit my mother had commissioned from a world-renowned designer for my twenty-first birthday. It had taken six months to make. I strode toward them, my voice laced with fury. “Take that off! Who gave you permission to wear that?” Finn recoiled, intimidated by my gaze. But remembering Blair was nearby, he puffed out his chest. “What’s your problem?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I grabbed the fabric, pulling at his lapel. Blair, incensed by my aggression, yanked me away. Caught off balance, my lower back hit the edge of a long banquet table. The towering champagne pyramid on top shattered, crashing to the floor. The enormous noise drew the attention of every guest. My succession party had devolved into a public farce. Blair stepped in front of Finn, shielding him. She looked at me with utter contempt. “How long are you going to keep this act up, Lachlan? I came here, didn’t I?” “That suit was never a good color on you. It looks much better on Finn—he’s young. You have dozens of suits. Why are you making a scene and humiliating him in public?” She finally seemed to notice the champagne dripping from my clothes and the small shards of glass embedded in my leg. A fleeting look of something like pity crossed her face. She reached out to help me up. “Stop throwing a tantrum. I’ll buy you a new one later, okay?” But I barely registered the pain in my leg or the sound of her voice. My eyes were fixed on the person standing just behind her, a figure I knew impossibly well. All the blood in my body seemed to freeze. Blair followed my gaze and slowly turned around. When she saw the woman’s face, her pupils dilated in pure, raw shock.

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1 I was the orphanage’s most notorious glutton. I could pack away five bowls of rice in one sitting and had the strength of an ox. Nobody wanted to be my friend. Only Sophia would talk to me. One day, a wealthy couple came to the orphanage, planning to adopt Sophia. That’s when I suddenly saw the comments scrolling across my vision: [The female lead is finally getting adopted! Soon she’ll start her angsty romance with her adoptive brother, the male lead!] [On the surface, the male lead acts like he doesn’t care about her and lets her get bullied until she has no self-esteem, but later on, he patiently helps her heal. It’s so sweet!] [Plus, the male lead has an eating disorder, and our baby FL is the one who cures him! They’re a match made in heaven!] After reading that, I nudged Sophia aside. “Sir, ma’am, I’m a really good eater. Please adopt me instead.” After all, I was strong. If this kid acted up, I had plenty of ways to handle him. — I was the toughest kid at the orphanage. My reputation was built on three things: eating five bowls of rice per meal, having the strength of an ox that I used to wreck the place, and being so weird that no one would be my friend. Sophia was the exception. She was six when she arrived—quiet, sweet, and never fought with anyone over anything. She was the only one who would occasionally come over and say a few words to me. Unfortunately, today she was being adopted. It was her turn, and word was the family was incredibly wealthy. Just as she was about to follow the matron out the door, I grabbed her hand. “You can’t go!” Sophia jumped, looking at me with wide, confused eyes. The matron thought I was just sad to see her go and tried to soothe me. “Lynn, Sophia is going to a better place. She might even come back to visit someday. Can you let her go now?” It wasn’t a better place. I was eight, and I could read just fine. I understood exactly what those comments meant. They said Sophia would be bullied and her spirit would be crushed. I spoke slowly. “Ma’am, let me go instead. This orphanage is so poor. If you don’t send me away soon, you’ll go broke trying to feed me.” The matron fell into an awkward silence. While all the staff secretly wanted me gone, fairness dictated they couldn’t just give the opportunity to me. So, she ended up taking both of us out to meet the couple. The couple looked just as rich as the comments described. Not only that, but standing behind them was a handsome, though incredibly smug-looking, little boy. [Ahhh, the first meeting between the ML and FL! The male lead actually saw her through the crack in the door earlier and is just pretending not to care, but his ears are totally red!] [Wait, I thought the FL was the one getting adopted. Who’s this random extra?] [Is she going to steal the spot from our baby FL? If she does, how is the angsty romance supposed to happen?!] The comments were in an uproar. Sophia looked at the people in front of her and offered a polite greeting. “Hello, sir and ma’am. Hello, big brother.” “Who’s your brother?!” Caleb Thorne’s face immediately soured. His perfect little features were twisted with disdain. His shout made Sophia’s eyes well up. She clutched her sleeves, about to shrink back, when I pushed my way in front of her, blocking her completely. “Hello, sir and ma’am. Hello, little bro.” “You! Who are you calling little bro?!” Caleb thought I was deliberately trying to embarrass him and instantly fumed. I gave him an innocent look. “I’m eight years old. Am I older than you? Ma’am, does that make me the big sister?” People have a fatal flaw: they judge by appearances. No one looking at my soft, sweet face would ever guess I was a notorious glutton with a mean streak. The wealthy woman’s hand came to rest gently on my head. “Caleb is only seven. So yes, that does make you the big sister.” She wanted a daughter primarily as a companion for her son. An older sister who could look out for him seemed much more suitable than a younger one who needed looking after. Seeing me already chatting with his mother, Caleb started to panic. “Mom! I want to go home! Now!” “Be good, Caleb. We’ll go home as soon as Mommy finishes the paperwork.” Hearing this only made him throw a bigger fit. Remembering the comments, I deliberately provoked him. “You don’t want me? Is it because you want Sophia? You like her, don’t you?” For a boy his age, there was nothing more horrifying than being accused of liking a girl. He puffed up like an angry cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Who said I like her? I can’t stand the sight of her!” My smile became even more sincere. “Ma’am, please take me with you. Since my little brother doesn’t like her, you have to choose me. Besides, he looks so skinny. I love to eat, and I can definitely help him get his appetite back!” My words seemed to amuse the man, who had been silent until now. He bent down, patted my head, and took my hand. The comments instantly exploded, and a chorus of curses rained down on me. 2 The adoption paperwork was processed quickly. When I went back to pack my things, Sophia was watching me with a crestfallen expression. [I hate this extra so much, can she just die?! Look how sad our baby FL is!] [Now that the FL hasn’t been adopted, how will she ever develop a relationship with the ML?!] “Lynn, will… will you come back and visit me?” Sophia asked timidly. I pulled her close and whispered conspiratorially, handing her a small whistle. “Under the fifteenth bar of the playground fence, I left something for you. If you hear me whistle for you at night, whistle back.” “Huh?” She stared at the whistle, completely baffled. But the director was already there to get me. In the car, Caleb’s face was darker than the bottom of a pot. If you looked closely, you could see tear tracks on his cheeks. I ignored him, clambered into the seat beside him, taking up a huge amount of space, and immediately started laying on the charm. “Sir, ma’am, this car is so comfortable! It’s the nicest car I’ve ever been in!” “What a sweet child,” the woman said, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and affection. “Look at these little arms, you’re so thin. When we get home, I’ll have the cook make you something delicious, okay?” I let her squeeze my arm, my eyes darting toward Caleb. His face was beet red. He was unhappy! And for the first time, his parents weren’t comforting him! The little prince felt his world crumbling. He bit his lip, overwhelmed with a sense of injustice. The moment we arrived home, he slammed the car door open and bolted out of the car. I ambled after him and, as I stepped through the front door, casually ordered, “Hey, little bro. Find me some slippers.” “You’re telling me to find you slippers?” Caleb’s eyes widened. He was a pampered young master. Forget fetching things for others; he’d never even put on his own shoes before he was five! And now he was supposed to wait on someone? “Get out! This is my house!” he seethed, suddenly shoving me. “Caleb!” “Stop it!” Two panicked voices, one male and one female, cried out at the same time. “Lynn, are you okay?” I had been standing right at the top of the stairs. Though his father caught me just in time, he was still shaken. Caleb stood frozen, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes red. “I don’t want a sister! I don’t want her in my house!” “Caleb Thorne!” His father’s voice was low and firm, and Caleb immediately flinched. “Apologize!” The command was absolute. Caleb pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white. The comments were filled with sympathy. [The ML is a young master! He can’t wait on people. I bet this Lynn girl did it on purpose!] [She’s just trying to provoke our baby ML. Ugh, she’s so manipulative. I hate her.] I snuggled into his mother’s arms and said sweetly, “It’s my fault. I just asked my little brother to find me some slippers. At the orphanage, the first kid inside always helps the next one. I didn’t know he’d get so mad.” My reasonableness only highlighted Caleb’s spoiled behavior. His father’s tone grew colder. “Do I need to repeat myself? Apologize.” Caleb bit his lip so hard it looked like it might bleed. Tears welled in his eyes, but he stubbornly held them back. “Sorry!” As if he had suffered the greatest humiliation of his life, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He turned and ran into the house. “That child…” his mother murmured, a hint of worry in her voice. But her main focus was on getting me settled. With a sigh, she let it go. Caleb really was too spoiled. He was like this at home, and he had no friends at school either—always a loner. Hopefully, things would change. They led me through the house, one on each side, and my bell-like laughter echoed through the villa. “Ma’am, this garden is huge! And there’s a swing!” “Wow, sir, are these your goldfish?” They held my hands as if we were a real family of three. Caleb watched from his bedroom window, practically seething with rage. A moment later, I knocked on his door. “Little bro, time for dinner.” 3 Caleb wanted nothing to do with me. The words “I hate you” were practically written on his face. But I didn’t care. Instead, I leaned over the dinner table and whispered devilishly again. “Pour me some juice.” His father had left halfway through dinner for a work call, and his mother was on the phone, leaving just the two of us at the table. He snorted. “Why should I?” “Alright, let’s play a game. If I win, you have to call me ‘big sister’ from now on. If I lose, I’ll go back to the orphanage tomorrow. How about it?” Caleb’s eyes lit up instantly. The comments cheered. [Lynn is digging her own grave! Our ML is a certified genius. Even at seven, he’s way smarter than a normal kid!] [He won a math Olympiad at such a young age, so cool! Hmph, I can’t wait to see Lynn crawl back to the orphanage tomorrow!] Caleb puffed out his small chest, full of confidence. “Fine. What’s the contest?” “Why don’t you choose?” He was proud. My offer immediately triggered his rebellious streak. “You choose! I don’t want you saying I bullied you just to kick you out!” “Then I won’t be polite!” That was exactly what I was waiting for! I pointed a mischievous finger at the dishes on the table. “We’ll see who can finish a plate of food first. Since I suggested the game, you can have the first pick.” Caleb’s face grew serious. He quickly snatched the plate with the least amount of food on it. It was a plate of broccoli. Normally he barely touched the stuff, but the other dishes had too much. The meat would require chewing. He was smart, alright, choosing the one he could finish the fastest. “Your turn!” he declared, certain of his victory. He had carefully surveyed the remaining plates. All of them were piled high, especially the braised pork belly… I reached out and decisively pulled the braised pork belly toward me. “Start!”

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My dad wanted a divorce due to Mom’s cheating. They fought hardest over who’d keep me. Though he’d married into her wealth, he took a job to seek custody. Leaving on a trip, he begged Mom to care for me, his five-year-old. Once he left, she called her lover and went to cook for his cat. She left me with only instant ramen and bottled water. Five days later, feverish, I took the wrong medicine. My heart beat unevenly. I called Mom, gasping, “I’m sick… took wrong medicine. I think I’m dying.” Her voice was groggy and annoyed. “Like your father—a liar. I’ll be back in days. Just sleep.” Nauseous, I pleaded, “Mommy, please, I really—” The phone clattered as she tossed it. A man’s voice asked, “Your kid says he’s dying. Not scared?” Casually, she replied, “Don’t believe him. Honestly, his death would solve problems. He’s why our divorce drags on.” I recalled Dad’s breakdowns over her cheating. He was right: only my death would free him. … With my last ounce of strength, I crawled into bed and grabbed the family photo from the nightstand. I held it close, tucked under the covers. In the photo, Dad is kissing my cheek, his face beaming. Mom is looking at us both with so much love. Dad told me this picture was from when I was two. That was before her first love came back into her life. Back then, all her love was here, in this home. He came back when I was three. After that, the way she looked at me and Dad was distant, distracted. But she always said she loved me. That I was the continuation of her life. Especially after the doctors told her an old injury meant she could never have another child. I was her only one, her everything. Even when Dad offered to walk away with nothing, asking only for custody of me and offering her full visitation rights, she refused. My tears fell like fat raindrops onto his picture. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. A crushing weight settled on my chest, and I whispered with my final breath: “Goodbye, Daddy.” As my eyes closed, I saw him again, kneeling in front of my mother. “I’m begging you! Just give me the boy!” “You don’t love us. Stop torturing us.” He was sobbing, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Her face was a mask of impatience. “What do you mean I don’t love you?” “You’re the one who can’t appreciate a good thing when you have it!” “If you really loved our son, you’d want him to have a complete family!” “He is my son. I will never give him to you!” Dad’s despair turned to rage. He scrambled to his feet. “You love him? You love our son? Bullshit!” He hated it most when she claimed to love me when her actions showed anything but. He, who was always so gentle, had started screaming in their fights. He brought up every old wound, every single one of her failings. “You love him? He was hospitalized with pneumonia for a week, and you never even showed your face! Where were you? You were in the Arctic, watching polar bears with your lover!” “And you didn’t just not come back, you took every penny we had and spent it on that man!” “You always wanted to know where the money for Leo’s hospital bills came from, didn’t you?” “I’ll tell you! I sold myself! I spent six hours with some old woman so I could pay for our son’s treatment! Are you happy now?!” “I hate you! I hate that you don’t love him but you keep pretending you do!” “I’ve raised him since he was born. Why don’t I have the right to take him with me?” That was the day I understood why Dad always took such long showers. The sound of the water covered the sound of his crying. I would always ask him why his eyes were red, and he would always smile and say I was imagining things. I had begged her, too, hoping to stop his pain. “Mommy, please say sorry to Daddy. Please don’t make him cry anymore.” Her expression soured. She scooped me up, wiping my tears with a rough hand. “Stop being so dramatic, you’re scaring him!” she snapped at my dad. “I’ll say this one last time. Give me custody, and I’ll sign the divorce papers right now. Otherwise, we stay like this. Stop making our lives a living hell over every little thing.” Dad wouldn’t let it go. He grabbed her arm, desperate. “Jessica!” “You say you love our son. What have you ever done for him?” “You cook for your lover’s cat, but has our son, your five-year-old son, ever had a single meal that you’ve made?” “You even stole the birthday money I was saving for him to buy cat food for that man’s cat!” “You buy that man clothes, gifts, you even buy clothes for his damn cat. Has our son ever worn a single thing you bought for him?” These scenes played out every few days. And every time, Mom would just shut down, sighing impatiently. “Go on, throw your fit. No one is listening.” Every argument ended the same way: with my dad screaming into a void, a one-man tragedy. I had tried, too, crying my own eyes out, whispering to her in secret. “Please divorce Dad. He has to take pills just to sleep now.” “He’s always sick, and he never eats. He’s in so much pain.” “Mommy, even if I live with Daddy, I’ll still love you.” “Please, Mommy. Just let me go with him.” Her eyes would turn red, but she would blink back the tears, her large hand gently stroking my cheek. “Your father is just throwing a tantrum,” she’d coo. “Mommy can’t bear to let you go with him. He married into our family. How could he possibly support you?” “We’ll always be a family, okay?” Dad heard that. The truth was, Dad had always worked, but it was at my grandpa’s company. Grandpa watched him like a hawk and only paid him a pittance. Last year, Grandpa drove the company into bankruptcy and couldn’t handle the failure; he jumped from a building. Mom was living off her savings, so Dad stayed home to take care of me. But now, to win custody, he had immediately found a new job. He would cup my face in his hands, his eyes shining with a desperate hope. “Leo, son, just wait until Dad’s job is stable. Then I’ll file for divorce.” “Once I have a steady income, the court will have to give you to me.” “Just give me a little more time, okay?” And every time, I would smile and tell him he could do it. I’d overheard the adults talking. Before I was born, my dad had been a brilliant man, full of talent and promise. After they married, he gave it all up to take care of me and Mom, content to be a nobody at Grandpa’s company. In my memory, he was always busy, from sunrise to sunset. He cooked every meal. He took care of my sick grandparents. Any spare moment he had, he spent reading me stories or playing with me. I often saw him so tired he could barely stand. After he got the new job, he was gone before I woke up and came home long after I was asleep. It only gave Mom another reason to complain. “You’re neglecting your family for some stupid job!” He was done fighting. He just focused on his work, on earning that steady paycheck he needed to take her to court. Mom, of course, didn’t change at all. When she was in a good mood, she might pick me up for a few minutes before putting me down to giggle at her phone, texting that man. She’d kiss my cheek and say, “I just love my big boy so much.” I couldn’t remember any other warm moments with her. Mostly, I just remembered her screaming at Dad about the divorce, smashing things, and me wailing in a corner, terrified. But it was okay now. I was dead. They wouldn’t have to fight over me anymore. Dad came home that night. My soul lingered in the house, a silent observer. “Sweetheart, Daddy’s home!” He was dusty from travel, pulling his suitcase behind him. In his other hand, he held a new capybara toy and a bag of my favorite snacks. I ran to him instinctively, wanting a hug, but my arms passed right through him. My transparent spirit drifted through his body. I remembered then. I was already dead. Dad looked around at the messy living room, at the ramen wrappers and empty water bottles littering the floor. The air was stale and smelled sour. He was a neat freak. He fanned the air in front of his nose and set down his suitcase, walking further into the house. “Leo? Leo, Daddy’s home,” he called out, looking around. He muttered to himself, “It’s only been a few days, and this place is a pigsty. What kind of mother is she? And she thinks she can fight me for custody?” I floated beside him, reaching out to take his hand. Just like when I was alive, when his big hand would swallow mine as we walked. Only now, I couldn’t feel its warmth. I looked up at his face. “Daddy, I’m dead now.” “You can divorce Mommy.” “You don’t have to fight with her anymore.” He couldn’t hear me. He went to the bedroom, still looking for me. And then he saw my small form, lying in the bed. A happy smile spread across his face. He tiptoed over, his eyes soft with love. He watched me for a long moment, then blew a gentle kiss in my direction, careful not to wake me. My nose stung, and tears fell like broken pearls. I cried and hugged his legs. I knew with absolute certainty that he was the only person in the world who truly loved me. And I loved him most of all. I wanted him to be free, but I was terrified that finding me dead would break him completely. In that moment, I finally understood what he meant when he used to say, “You’re my only weakness.” Back then, I would tell him to stay away from Mom, thinking naively that if he did, he wouldn’t be sad, that he’d be able to sleep at night. He would just hold me tight and say, over and over, “Daddy will get you out of here. I will never leave my baby boy.” But Daddy, I’m sorry. I left you. He quietly closed the bedroom door and went to the bathroom, the room furthest from mine, to call Mom. The phone rang for a long time before she answered. He covered his mouth, his voice a furious whisper. “Where the hell have you been?” “Were you with him again?” “Jessica, you are so heartless!” “How could you leave our son home alone?” He was trying so hard to keep his voice down, but his face was red with rage. Mom’s voice was, as always, annoyed. “I have my own life, you know!” “Stop looking for reasons to start a fight!” “Leo is five years old. He’s a good boy. He can be alone!” “If you can’t stand it, then quit your job and come back to take care of him yourself!” Beep. She hung up. Dad furiously redialed, but she had turned her phone off. Tears of rage welled in his eyes. He clutched his chest, wiping his face again and again. A choked sob escaped him, twisting his features in pain. I held him, my transparent arms wrapped around him, whispering, “Daddy, don’t cry. You can leave her now.” His shoulders shook in my ghostly embrace. Finally, his eyes red and swollen, he started cleaning the house. Just like he always did, quietly picking up the pieces. And just like I always did, I followed him around like a little shadow. When the house was clean, he opened the fridge and found it empty. He was about to figure out what to cook for me when his boss called. He needed a proposal drafted, immediately. Dad dropped everything, sat at the living room table, and opened his laptop. I rested my chin on the table, watching him work. A moment later, his phone rang again. It was Grandma. “How long are you going to waste your life on her?” “It’s not like you can’t have other children. Just give her Leo and get the divorce over with!” I’d heard these words so many times I could recite them myself. As always, Dad’s voice was firm. “This is my business. Don’t worry about it. I am not giving her Leo.” Grandma’s voice rose. “You think I want to worry? That heartless Jessica, she mortgaged the house you live in! She bought that lover of hers a luxury car!” “That man came to show it off to your father and me. Your father got so angry he had a heart attack!” “He’s been in the hospital for five days! I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry!” The news hit Dad like a physical blow. He never imagined she would be so cruel. A sharp pain shot through his chest, and he weakly patted it with his hand. After a few minutes, he picked up his phone and called a woman. “I can be your lover. But I want a divorce, and you have to help me get custody of my son.” The woman on the other end laughed and readily agreed. I remembered her. She was ten years older than my dad. My dad, who was so clean and proud, how could he be with someone he didn’t love, just for me? I stomped my ghostly feet. “Daddy, I’m dead! Just go look in the room!” “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do anymore.” Dad sat in a daze for a long time. His phone vibrated again. It was his boss, summoning him to the office for an emergency meeting. He hadn’t eaten all day, and his stomach ached with hunger. He only had time to swallow half a glass of water. He grabbed his briefcase and rushed out the door, calling Mom one last time. “I’m going to the office. You get your ass home and watch Leo right now.” “If I get back and he’s still alone, I swear I will go find that man and I will make you regret it.”

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The trial was live-streamed. Just as the verdict for the mob boss was about to be read, he spoke up. He said he’d trade an address for his life, to get the death penalty off the table. “Back when I was just starting out, I witnessed a murder.” “The victim was one of yours.” “Skye Miller. Badge number 071923. Word is… her file was reopened three times.” “If I can give her a proper burial, wouldn’t that count as a major contribution?” The live chat exploded with outrage. “He’s lying, just trying to escape execution.” “If an officer went missing, they’d tear the city apart. No way she’d just vanish.” The judge turned to the police representative, asking if they needed a recess to investigate. Sam rose slowly to his feet. “No need.” “Skye Miller isn’t dead. She’s a fugitive I’ve been hunting for seven years.” 1 To make them believe, the mob boss recounted the entire gruesome murder right there in the courtroom. He described how his associates had knocked her out and taken turns raping her. How they had ripped out her fingernails and teeth, trying to make her give up police informants. And how, piece by piece, they had shattered every bone in her body. “She screamed like hell, but she wouldn’t say a damn thing. Not until someone called her phone.” “She heard the voice on the other end, and then… she just went quiet.” “We tried everything after that. Slicing her with knives, smashing her kneecaps, pouring hot oil on her skin and scraping it off with a wire brush… not a sound. She didn’t make a single sound.” “That’s when we knew it was useless. We weren’t getting anything out of her.” “Out of pity, I asked the boss to make it quick. Later, I handled the body myself.” As he spoke, his voice chillingly calm, the chat fell silent. Countless people listening felt a suffocating tightness in their chests. Only Sam stood rigid, his eyes burning with fury. “Keep acting. Put on your show.” “You people, feel pity for a cop? Don’t make me laugh.” The mob boss asked for a cigarette. “Killing her and pitying her are two different things,” he said, taking a long drag. “Even I thought I was a monster back then. And I have to admit, I respected her grit.” “But what can you do? It was the life.” “I’ve killed so many people over the years—rats who sold me out, rivals horning in on my business, deadbeats who wouldn’t pay… I don’t regret any of them. But her? She’s the only one that weighs on me.” A wave of raw respect for the police swept through the public, and people everywhere began digging online, trying to unearth any clue from the old case. But Sam just sneered. He shot to his feet, his voice ringing with conviction. “I don’t believe a single word you’ve said.” The mob boss just shook his head, a look of weary resignation on his face. “The time, the details, the people involved—I’ve told you everything I can. I’ve got no reason to lie.” “Face it… I’m the only one who knows where she’s buried.” “It’s your call. Trade a life sentence for her peace, or let her rot.” Sam’s superiors ordered a recess, pulling him back for an immediate debrief. The public demanded a full-scale investigation. But Sam fought it tooth and nail. He stormed into his captain’s office, slamming his hands on the desk. The captain roared back, ordering him to personally lead the excavation at the site the dealer had named. The squad car’s engine screamed as he floored the gas pedal. Watching the barely contained rage on his face, I felt a wave of helplessness wash over me. He really believes it, doesn’t he? That I fell from grace all those years ago. That I betrayed my ideals, my father’s badge number, all for a bag of dirty money. That I betrayed him. And now, I was a ghost haunting the new life he was just starting with Rose. As he shifted gears, his wrist was exposed. He was still wearing the faded cord bracelet I gave him years ago. But everything else in the car—the little trinkets, the air freshener—had been replaced with cute strawberry charms. Even the air was thick with a sickly sweet strawberry scent. It was clear Rose had completely woven herself into every corner of his new life. He didn’t know. The “old me” he’d cast aside had been left to rot in the cold, damp earth. For seven years. 2 Seven years, and he looked almost the same. A strong, righteous jawline; a lean, powerful frame. He just spoke less now, burying his emotions deeper. The silent red and blue lights flashed across the mountain road before the car stopped in a desolate field of withered grass. It was the dead of winter, the ground frozen solid. The first shovel strike just left a white scratch on the hard earth. He took command of the scene. “Use torches to soften the ground. The wind’s strong, so widen the downwind perimeter by another twenty feet.” Rose emerged from a group of volunteers, unscrewing a thermos. “Drink some hot water. Your voice is getting hoarse from all the shouting.” Sam took a sip, his voice softening. “What are you doing here?” “It’s crowded and chaotic. You should head home.” Rose rested her head against his shoulder, her voice filled with worry. “I saw the trial.” “Do you think… it could be real?” Sam let out a contemptuous snort but didn’t answer. He just stroked her long hair, his fingers gliding from the crown of her head to the very tips, curling a strand around his finger. Just like he used to do to soothe me. Back then, both our fathers were detectives. They worked together, went on missions together, and in the end, died in the line of duty together. At the wake, I curled up in his arms, clinging to him as my only anchor. He held me tight, his hand stroking my hair, over and over, from root to tip, curling a strand around his finger. We were inseparable after that. We went to the police academy together, inheriting our fathers’ badge numbers. We weren’t just partners with a shared purpose; we were lovers, fused together. Before our wedding, my mom had said with tears in her eyes, “You rascal, you’ve stolen my daughter.” Sam wrapped his arms around me possessively. “Not at all. You’ve just gained a son.” “Don’t you worry, ma’am. I swear I’ll never let Skye suffer a single day of hardship.” And he kept his promise. When I wanted to dig into a cold case, he’d stay up for nights on end organizing files for me. When I faced a gunman on a call, he threw himself in front of me without a second thought. I couldn’t handle spicy food, so this man who loved heat never touched a single chili pepper for years after we were married. We thought nothing in the world was stronger than the bond between partners and lovers. Who could have known? Our relationship would be torn apart by a prostitute we rescued from a drug den. I studied Rose’s enchanting face. It was hard to believe that in just a few years, she had transformed from a girl covered in the grime of the streets into this alluring, sophisticated woman. I guess a woman’s tears are the ultimate weakness of a man with a steel heart. After we rescued Rose, she started calling Sam in the middle of the night. Crying about how she couldn’t find a decent job, how everyone judged her for her past as an addict and a sex worker. Sam’s heart melted in her tears. Pity and sympathy bloomed in him like weeds in spring, impossible to control. He brought her into our home, giving her his entire paycheck under the guise of a “cleaning fee.” I was left to cover all our household expenses, and money became incredibly tight. I tried to fire her several times, but he always insisted. “Skye, Rose is fragile. She’s been through hell. We have to help her.” But over Sam’s shoulder, I could see her eyes, fixed on me, gleaming with defiance. I lost it. I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out the door. She clutched her scalp, her tear-filled eyes speaking volumes without a word. And Sam—the man who had sworn to protect me with his life, my lover, my partner—raised his hand to me without hesitation. The slap sent me reeling to the floor. He cradled Rose’s face, his thumb gently wiping away the tears at the corner of her eyes. “Don’t cry. I told you, no one will ever hurt you again.” Then he looked down at me, his voice cold. “When are you going to get rid of that temper?” “Rose is a victim, too. Does this behavior honor the badge you wear?” But in this twisted triangle of betrayal, wasn’t it the two of them who were tormenting me? A thousand words caught in my throat. In the end, I just silently packed my bags and moved into the precinct dorms. Aside from work, we never spoke another word. I knew, deep down, that nothing physical had ever happened between him and Rose. I just couldn’t stand it. He was giving the tenderness that was once mine to another woman, while I was left to pay the bills. We were at a stalemate for a long time. Every day I would think, Maybe I’ll make up with him tomorrow. But the next day, the words would die on my lips, choked by the bitterness of it all. Unfortunately, tragedy arrived faster than tomorrow. I never got the chance to see him come back to me. Instead, I made a shocking discovery. Rose had a hidden connection to the very crime syndicate we’d been investigating for years. 3 A powerful suction tore me from my memories. The crowd erupted. “They’ve found something!” “Careful, give them a hand!” Sam stood stunned, the word escaping his lips before he could stop it. “Impossible!” “You just wanted to see me sweat, to make me look like a fool, didn’t you? There can’t really be any bones…” he muttered, as if to himself. Rose bit her lip, her expression fraught with worry. “Sam… you don’t think… Skye could have killed someone, do you?” “She always had such a volatile temper. If someone pushed her too far…” Sam’s jaw tightened, his muscles coiling. He pushed his way through the crowd. “I’m going to take a look.” I hovered over the shattered remains of my own skeleton. The wind whistled through the gaps in the bones, and I couldn’t help but laugh a bitter, silent laugh. This was the true meaning of “chilled to the bone.” He brushed the dirt from a fractured piece. Even through his gloves, I could feel the warmth of his fingertips. My soul trembled. Suddenly, I didn’t want him to see me like this. If I had a choice, I would want him to remember me as I was. Headstrong, impulsive, but so full of life. But now, all I could do was gaze up at the man I once loved, desperate for the lingering warmth of his touch. The medical examiner collected the bones, and the crowd slowly dispersed. Sam remained alone in the field. As the first light of dawn painted the sky, he suddenly pulled out his phone and started dialing like a madman. Ring… Ring… “The number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again.” The wind on the open plain was freezing, turning the tip of his nose red. A choked sob was ripped away by the gale. “Skye, this isn’t real…” “This is just a sick joke, right?” A pair of arms wrapped around his neck, a woman’s warm breath against his ear. Rose’s voice trembled. “Sam.” “Is she… still in your heart?” Sam’s body flinched violently. A heavy, turbulent silence hung between them. He placed his hand over hers, which rested on her stomach, and let out a long, weary sigh. “That’s all in the past.” “All I have now is you and the baby.” Rose’s arms tightened around him as she began to weep softly. “Sam, I’m so scared you’ll leave me.” “I’ve given you everything. Please… don’t let me down.” Seven years had worn away my anger. Now, I could watch her performance with a calm detachment. This woman was born with two faces. With Sam, she was always the pitiful victim. With me, her eyes were filled with venom and defiance. Sometimes, I truly wondered what I had ever done to her. Why did she hate me so much? It wasn’t until I was dying that I finally understood. She had every reason. Her father, a career criminal, had been killed in a shootout with my father and Sam’s father after resisting arrest. Without his protection, she quickly became a “plaything” passed around by the gang. “Do you know what I hate most about you?” she had sneered, crouching in front of me. Her voice was a low hiss. “We both lost our fathers. So why was your life so damn easy?” “Your classmates and neighbors treated you with even more kindness. The men in your life didn’t try to slip their hands into your underwear.” “I’m smarter than you, prettier than you, and I understand people better than you. So why, after all of that, does Sam still love you more?!” It dawned on me then. Love and hate—both can destroy you. Rose had intended to avenge her father’s death on both me and Sam. But somewhere along the way, she fell in love with him. And that only made her hate me more. 4 The morning sun stretched their shadows long across the ground. Watching their overlapping figures, a morbid curiosity sparked within me. What would Sam do if he knew who Rose really was? Would he continue to pity her, to cherish her? Or would he be disgusted? I couldn’t guess the answer. Fate is a cruel playwright, one that delights in twisting the human heart. It arranged for a detective to be killed by the daughter of the criminal he had taken down. Then it arranged for that detective’s son, completely unaware, to marry that same criminal’s daughter. Sometimes I think, if only Rose had been an adult when her father died. Her records wouldn’t have been sealed. We wouldn’t have mistaken the new head of the syndicate for an innocent victim. And I wouldn’t have died in such a horrific way. Every single one of my bones bears the scars of what they did to me. Back then, I had screamed, struggled, begged, and demanded to know why. But they just laughed as they broke my limbs and pulled my teeth out one by one, relentlessly demanding the names of our undercover officers and informants. Finally, they pumped me full of adrenaline—three shots. They wanted me fully conscious as they sliced open my abdomen and tossed my organs to the dogs. But there was a moment, a single chance, when I could have lived. Before they gutted me, Rose appeared, flanked by several menacing-looking Burmese men. “You’re good,” she said. “You almost brought down my entire operation.” “I was going to kill you outright. But Jago convinced me not to waste a valuable asset.” “If you can get the police to close the case, take the fall for everything, you can live out your days peacefully in prison.” I managed a weak, bloody smirk. “In your dreams.” Her smile turned ugly. “Refuse, and you disappear.” “In a few years, Sam will forget all about you anyway.” I closed my eyes in silence. But then Rose spoke again, her voice like a serpent’s hiss. “It’s the anniversary of your father’s death today, isn’t it?” “Every other year, Sam would have gone with you to the cemetery.” I tensed. “What are you planning?” “Nothing much. Just happened to ‘lose’ some evidence of a dirty cop taking bribes, and the money trail happens to lead straight to you.” Her voice was raspy, poisonous. “I know he won’t believe it. But he’ll use it as an excuse to make up with you.” “Women… we’re petty creatures. If I can’t have him, I’d rather destroy him.” Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, my phone began to ring, a death knell. It was Sam. Rose gestured with her chin. “Answer it. Have her lure him here.” I took the call. Sam asked where I was. He said there were some things he needed to clear up in person. He wanted to apologize and pick me up to go to the cemetery. But his apology had come too late. Even if I survived, I would be a cripple for the rest of my life. So I said nothing. Jago grew impatient. He grabbed a blowtorch and aimed it at my thigh. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. I clenched my teeth, refusing to make a sound. Sam. He was my closest partner, my beloved husband. He had given me the happiest days of my life. If I had one last wish at the end of my life, I would give anything to ensure his safety. But Sam must have sensed something was wrong. His voice grew sharp with urgency. “Skye, are you in trouble? Can you not talk? Hold on, I’m coming to find you!” I shook my head frantically, using the last ounce of my strength to shout into the phone. “Don’t!” “Don’t come looking for me! We’re over, you hear me?” “Go live your life with your little saint. I’m… I’m done with you!” I hung up and managed a final, heartbreaking smile. “You win, Rose.” Go to him. Comfort him. From now on, he’s yours. That night, they slept together. And from there, it was a natural progression. They became the perfect couple and even conceived a child together. And me? I died on the coldest day of winter. Buried beneath a barren field for seven years. Until today. The medical examiner held the DNA test results, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Captain, the victim is confirmed. It’s Skye Miller.” “Badge number 071923… case file sealed once more.”

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My Maybach was rear-ended by a little electric scooter. The girl who hit me was sprawled on the pavement, groceries scattered around her like fallen leaves. She started to cry, her voice small and shaky. “Wait, please… I’ll call my boyfriend. He’ll pay for everything…” On the other end of the line, a man’s voice erupted in anger, but underneath the fury was a current of undeniable concern. “When you dumped me, did you ever think you’d need me again?” “What about the engagement ring I bought you? It’s worth ten of these cars. Use that to pay for it.” “Julianna! Grow a spine! I don’t care who you’re dealing with, I’m here to back you up! Send me the address!” Less than ten minutes later, Ethan, who was supposed to be in a board meeting, screeched to a halt at the scene. Our eyes met. “Well, this is a coincidence,” I said, my voice dry. Then I turned my gaze to the girl, who seemed to have found a backbone now that her savior had arrived. “It seems we share a boyfriend.” 1 “I’m so sorry, I was just so scared…” the girl, Julianna, sobbed. “I just… I told them you were my boyfriend…” For a moment, Ethan was stunned. He clearly never imagined our first meeting with his ex-love would happen like this. I stood to the side, arms crossed, my eyes fixed on the ring on Julianna’s finger. A pink diamond, flashing with an inner fire. It was, without a doubt, far more expensive than the one on my own hand. “Are you okay? Did it hit you?” Ethan pulled me close, his hands running up and down my arms, checking for injuries. “From now on, I’m taking you to your appointments.” Julianna’s tears stopped. She stared, dumbfounded, at my gently rounded stomach. “You can go,” I said to her. When she first hit me, I’d told her my car was insured and that I wouldn’t press charges. But she’d insisted on making a scene, crying and calling for help. It was obvious now that it was all just an excuse to contact Ethan. “Get your rotten fish off the road! And Julianna,” Ethan’s voice was like ice, “don’t you ever use an excuse like this to call me again. I want nothing to do with you.” His words were brutal. But as we drove away, I saw him watching her in the rearview mirror. “The fish is dead,” I said quietly. “Careful your employees don’t get food poisoning.” The delivery slip that had fallen from the cooler had his company’s name right at the top. Ethan was a man of high standards; the food in his corporate cafeteria was exclusively organic. The sight of those cheap-looking fish could only mean one thing: a small act of mercy, a lifeline thrown to the woman he claimed to hate most in the world. The snow began to fall harder, blanketing the city in white. Ethan drove with one hand on the wheel, his mind clearly elsewhere. His phone rang. A number he didn’t recognize. He glanced at it, and then his foot slammed on the brake. The seatbelt dug sharply into my belly. A cold sweat broke out on my skin. “Ethan,” Julianna’s voice came through the speaker, a choked whisper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you… but my leg… I can’t move it…” Her voice trembled. “There are so many cars… I’m so scared…” Ethan looked at me, the panic on his face impossible to hide. “Phoebe, get out. I’ll have my driver pick you up.” 2 I had rarely seen Ethan look like this. Not even when he was closing a fifty-million-dollar deal. He was so frantic he kicked me out of the car. So frantic he sped away, the tires skidding on the snow-slicked road. So frantic that in the dead of winter, he forgot to give me the coat I’d left on the backseat. He was just gone. Leaving me to shiver in the biting wind. The ache in my stomach hadn’t faded, and as the wind sliced through me, cold sweat mingled with my tears. The combination of the freezing cold and the violent swing of my emotions triggered the first warning signs of a miscarriage. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning, long after I’d taken the medication the doctor prescribed, that Ethan finally came home, bringing the chill of the night in with him. His face was etched with exhaustion. “Julianna tried to jump off a bridge.” I froze. “She fell into the river. She wasn’t seriously hurt, but she was terrified.” He came over and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m sorry I made you get out of the car today… Julianna’s been having these… episodes. I was afraid she’d actually kill herself.” I didn’t know what to say. I knew Ethan had a great, tragic love story in his past. A woman who had been with him from the beginning, who had helped him build his empire from nothing, only to abandon him when it all came crashing down. He had been lost for years after she left. Then I came along. I was the one who helped him see the world again. I followed him from city to city as he rebuilt his life, piece by piece. I was the one who soothed the scars she’d left on his heart. “Are you really over her?” I asked. I was asking him, but I was also asking myself. Was he? Was everything I had done worth it? Could we really move forward from this? “You’re not,” I answered for him. The tears I’d been holding back finally fell. “Ethan, let’s break up.” 3 “Are you crazy?” Ethan stared at me, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. “You want to break up with me over this? Over one stupid little thing?” “I’ve always told you I can’t handle being cheated on,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I made an exception for you. I let you keep Julianna tucked away in a corner of your heart because it was you.” “Ethan, I’m pregnant. We’re supposed to get married next month. And today, you left me stranded in a snowstorm for her.” “I can’t accept that.” I would rather cut my losses now than keep investing in a sunken cost. The pain was inevitable, but I refused to be a martyr in the name of love. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “…Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m not.” I stood up and opened the closet, pulling out a suitcase. “I’ll be gone by tomorrow.” “As for the baby… I’ll have to think about whether I’m keeping it.” He blocked my path. “Haven’t you had enough?!” he roared. “Why do you hate her so much? Will you only be happy when she’s dead?!” His fingers dug into my arm, the pressure sharp and painful. His eyes blazed with a fury that was terrifyingly familiar. For a split second, I was a child again, facing my violent father. Fear coiled in my stomach, and I tried to pull away. He shoved me, hard. I stumbled back and fell onto the bed. I was too stunned to move, tears streaming down my face, soaking the pillow. The sight of my terror seemed to snap Ethan out of his rage. “I’m sorry… Phoebe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be rough with you…” He reached for me, his voice trembling. “I just… I lost control.” We had been together for six years. He knew my past, he knew the pain I’d been through. In all those years, he had never once raised his voice to me. But for Julianna, he had fought with me ten times in the last month alone. And twice, he had put his hands on me. The first time was when I confronted him with the photo album of her he kept hidden away. The second time was now. “I’m not a fool, Ethan.” The strange perfume on his collar, the bite mark on his neck… and still he insisted there was nothing between them. “Can you honestly look me in the eye and say you’ve done nothing wrong?” He pressed his lips together, silent. That night, for the first time, we slept in separate rooms. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I opened my phone and, on a whim, found Julianna’s livestream. It was two in the morning, and she was still online, trying to sell seafood. To my surprise, tens of thousands of people were watching. Not for the fish, but for the user at the top of the gift leaderboard, who was showering her with virtual presents. A username I knew all too well. His messages popped up in the chat, one after another. [Log off. Go to sleep.] [You know you can’t stay up late with your migraines, Julianna. I’m not coming to take care of you if you have an attack.] [Unblock me. Send me your account number. I’ll send you a lump sum, and we’ll be done. Stop playing the victim.] The gifts kept coming, a relentless stream of digital money. Ethan was always generous, even with the woman he claimed to hate, he was willing to drop thousands. Julianna’s voice cracked as she tried to describe her products. She wiped away a tear. “Don’t you dare taint my love with your money.” [Your love?] Ethan typed back. [Julianna, I gave up my dignity, my money, my entire future for you. I begged you on my knees, I tried to kill myself. To forget you, I even accepted the affections of someone else, just to try and wash you out of my system. You’re the one who dragged me to hell. You’re the one who destroyed us!] I stared at the words someone else. A tear splattered onto the screen. My heart felt like it had been struck with a sledgehammer. My hands and feet went numb. The chat exploded. Everyone was shipping them, begging them to get back together. Julianna bit her lip. “Ethan,” she whispered to the camera, “what if I told you I would do anything, pay any price, to go back to the way we were?” “Would you take me back?” 4 I never thought that in the story of Ethan’s life, I would be cast in the role of someone else. Because of my family, I never had much of an education. I was timid, shy. Falling in love with Ethan was the bravest thing I had ever done. I was a girl who had never even left her own city, and yet I followed him across the country. “Have some cake.” In our damp, cramped little apartment, Ethan traded the wool felt in my hands for a slice of cake. The one I’d been staring at in a bakery window. “Don’t do this anymore,” he said, gently taking my hands. “Look at your fingers, they’re all pricked and raw. You don’t need to support us. I have money. I can give you a good life.” I knew he was working multiple jobs behind my back, running himself into the ground. His hands were covered in calluses. So I had started taking on small crafting commissions online, trying to make a little extra money to ease his burden. “I still have the old family house,” he said one day. “If things get really bad, I can sell it.” “No!” I grabbed his arm. “You can’t! That was the last thing your mother left you!” A few months later, I was hospitalized with a serious illness. While I was in my hospital bed, Ethan sold the house. After paying the medical bills, he showed up with several bags from a department store. He brought me new clothes. Warm, comfortable down jackets. He himself was wearing a coat so old the cotton filling was starting to clump. “Where did you get the money?” I asked. “I earned it,” he mumbled, avoiding my eyes. It took a lot of prodding before he finally admitted the truth. “You idiot!” I cried, a mixture of anger and overwhelming love. “We agreed you wouldn’t sell it!” “But you’re more important to me.” He pulled me into a hug, his voice muffled against my neck. “The house is just bricks and mortar. You’re real. I couldn’t stand to see you in pain while I held onto a pile of bricks.” I sobbed, pounding my fists against his shoulder. “But it was your mother’s…” “If my mom were here,” he said, gently wiping my tears, “she would have told me to do the same thing. She always said that the person who truly loves you is more precious than anything else in the world.” That night, I decided I would spend the rest of my life loving Ethan. I even hand-wrote him a little card, a silly, homemade “one free pass” for any mistake he might ever make. After that, his business took off. I was the one who went to his networking events, drinking until my stomach bled, forcing myself to transform from a timid girl into a woman who could hold her own. We endured so much hardship back then. So much that now, even the sweet memories are tinged with a bitter aftertaste. He called me someone else. An insignificant person. I wanted to rip his chest open and see what was inside. Was it flesh and blood, or a block of ice that would never melt? 5 As I was dragging my suitcase to the door, Ethan blocked my way. He was holding the little card I had made for him all those years ago. “Give me one more chance,” he said. “I promise, nothing like this will ever happen again.” I stared at the worn piece of paper. After a long moment, I let go of the suitcase. I don’t go back on my word. But that didn’t mean I had forgiven him. “There’s my girl,” he said, pushing the suitcase aside. “I’ll make you breakfast. What do you want? I’m taking the day off. We can go shopping, get that bag you wanted.” I didn’t answer. My eyes were on his phone, which he had placed on the counter. It was on silent, but the screen was flashing relentlessly. Julianna. “Aren’t you going to get that?” I asked. “No.” He shook his head. “I’m never answering her calls again.” If he was truly done, he wouldn’t have just silenced it. He would have deleted and blocked her number. I didn’t call him on his lie. I was too tired to argue. I just turned and went back to my room. A message popped up on my phone. [Phoebe, I’m back in the country! Come to my welcome-back party?] It was from my best friend, Sophie. [Okay.] I needed a change of scenery. That evening, while Ethan was busy in the kitchen, I slipped on my shoes and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice tight with anxiety. “Dinner,” I said vaguely. “You want to come?” “I… I have something to do. I can’t.” “Okay.” 6 Knowing I was pregnant, Sophie had swapped out all the wine for milk. A few of our friends were gathered around the table. “Hey, I heard Julianna is working here part-time. Should we go take a look?” one of them whispered. “Are you crazy? I wouldn’t dare. I glanced at her once, and Ethan looked like he was about to gouge my eyes out.” “He was so devoted. They even have matching tattoos on their lower backs. A pair of birds, from a design Julianna made.” My hand trembled, and milk sloshed onto my pants. Matching tattoos… Ethan had told me the two birds were a symbol of freedom. I thought it was a beautiful idea, so I got one tattooed on my arm as well. I still remember the look in his eyes when he saw it. Surprised, and something else I couldn’t decipher. “You should get it removed,” he had said. “It doesn’t suit you.” “No way! If you have one, I want one too. So we can be a pair!” What a joke. I wanted to laugh, but all I wanted to do was cry. The tattoo on my arm suddenly felt like it was on fire, burning all my foolish assumptions to ash. When I came back to myself, tears were streaming down my face. I was grateful for the dim lighting in the private room, which hid my shame and confusion. Suddenly, a loud crash came from the room next door, followed by a girl’s panicked cries. The voice was familiar. It sounded like Julianna. We all rushed over. The moment we pushed open the door, we saw a man standing on the coffee table, blood trickling down his forehead, reeking of alcohol. “I asked you to pour me a drink, not smash the bottle over my fucking head!” he roared. “This isn’t over!” 7 Julianna stood her ground, her chin held high, the picture of defiance. “My only job is to deliver the drinks!” The man was livid. “Either you pay for my medical bills, or I’m calling the cops!” Julianna’s lip trembled, but she forced back her tears. Her red-rimmed eyes swept over our group. “Don’t arrest me…” Her voice grew louder, addressing everyone. “If you want to laugh at me, go ahead. I’m just a waitress, but I’m no less than any of you. Don’t push me too far.” She made it sound like we were the ones ganging up on her. The man jumped off the table and grabbed her by the collar. “Then pay up.” “I don’t have any money.” “Then drink every bottle in this room, and I’ll let you go.” The man’s eyes landed on the ring on her hand. “That pink diamond looks expensive. Maybe you can pay with that…” “No!” Julianna finally broke down, sobbing. “It’s the only thing I have left of him!” “I’ll drink!” She knelt by the table, grabbed a bottle, and started chugging, coughing and choking on the alcohol but refusing to stop. I couldn’t watch anymore. “How much does she owe you? I’ll pay.” “Get lost!” Julianna screamed, her composure shattering. She swung her arm and slapped me across the face, hard. “This is all your fault! You’re the one who stole my Ethan from me!” she shrieked. “You’re the reason he won’t forgive me! Can you live with yourself? Don’t you have nightmares?!” “And now you’re trying to insult me with your money! I don’t want your pity!” My ears were ringing. The room spun, and through the haze, I saw the door fly open. Ethan rushed in, brushing past me without a glance. He pulled the weeping girl into his arms. “Julianna, don’t be a coward! Fight back!” he commanded, his voice fierce. “I told you, I will always be your shield!” My legs gave out. I leaned against the wall for support as a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. “Phoebe!” Ethan’s head snapped toward me, his eyes blazing.

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The day Vivian forced the divorce papers on me, I was bound to the Deathwish System. The system’s command echoed in my head: “Slap her across the face and tell her to get lost.” I trembled. Vivian was ruthless. If I dared to stand in the way of her reunion with her long-lost love, she would tear me to pieces. But the system’s threat was chillingly clear: “If you don’t start courting death, you’re going to die. Now.” I had no choice. My hand flew out, and I slapped her. Terrified, I turned and ran from the house the moment my palm made contact. Then the system gave me my next task: smash the window of a police car parked on the street. I was starting to think the system just wanted me dead. But after I shattered the squad car’s side mirror, I finally understood. The life the system wanted me to destroy wasn’t my own. It was theirs. 1 I stared at the squad car, my mind reeling. “No way. That’s a crime!” The voice in my head was cold as ice. “Court death, or you die.” I wouldn’t have believed it. But half an hour ago, that voice had appeared out of nowhere. It told me I was the male lead in a tragedy, a story written to end with my death. Once Vivian’s first love, Adrian Levy, returned to the country, I would be thrown out. After a series of brutal, heart-wrenching events—being tormented, used as a blood bag, and having my kidney stolen—I was destined to be beaten to death by a group of thugs and left to die in an alley. A shiver went down my spine. Adrian had returned last month. And this month, Vivian had started staying out late. Her gaze would drift when she looked at me. I found a man’s cologne in her pocket, one I didn’t wear. She’d step away to take her calls. I knew our hollow marriage was finally over. Today, she handed me the divorce papers. “Adrian won’t see me,” she’d said, her voice flat. “He says we need to keep our distance now that I’m married.” “You know his health is fragile. He can’t be left alone.” “Just sign the papers, Ethan.” I glanced at the agreement. There was no mention of assets. Nothing for me. My savings had been spent years ago, helping Vivian rebuild her empire after her family went bankrupt. For the past few years, she’d been ashamed of me, forbidding me from working. If she kicked me out, I wouldn’t have enough money for dinner. I wanted to reason with her, but the system had ordered me to slap her instead. Everyone knew Vivian Levy, the self-made tycoon, was a shark who played for keeps. Slapping her was a genuine death wish. Now, the system was pushing me again. “Smash it! Now!” Terrified that its prophecy would come true, I grabbed a loose brick from the pavement and brought it down hard on the side mirror. With a loud crack, the mirror shattered and fell to the ground. The car alarm blared, and three officers rushed out from around the corner. I immediately raised my hands, ready to surrender. The lead officer gestured, and I was taken to the precinct. In the interrogation room, an officer held up my blood test results. “No alcohol, stable mental state. So why’d you smash a squad car?” “You do realize that’s a crime, right?” I repeated the lines the system fed me. “I know. I did it on purpose. I know exactly what I’m doing.” A young female officer looked at me, completely baffled. “What’s wrong with you? Get dumped?” I told her the truth. “No. Getting a divorce.” The officer cleared her throat. “Full restitution for the damages, a one-thousand-dollar fine, and ten days in a holding cell.” “You should call your family. And don’t do this again.” I dutifully handed over my bank cards, but every single one was declined. Vivian was already teaching me a lesson. The officers told me to call my family. I dialed Vivian’s number ten times. No answer. On the eleventh try, I found I’d been blocked. The female officer used the precinct’s landline. The moment she said my name, she was cut off. Vivian’s voice, which had once been so gentle, was now cold enough to freeze water. “Ethan? Call me back when he’s dead.” The officers exchanged uneasy glances. The female officer looked at my file again, at the two words printed there: Orphan. Her expression soured. “Just take him to the holding cell.” The ten days weren’t as bad as I’d expected. I was busy with daily routines and educational sessions, which left little time to think about Vivian. When I got my phone back, it was flooded with missed calls from Vivian and her assistant. I called her back. “Where are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “The file I left in my office drawer. Where did you hide it?!” 2 I didn’t understand. I paused, confused. Vivian’s voice grew harsher. “I’m giving you half an hour. If that file isn’t back on my desk, I’m calling the police.” “Ethan, do not test my patience.” I was completely lost. I looked at the female officer standing beside me. She had heard everything and gestured for my phone. Taking it, she spoke in a serious tone. “Ms. Levy, your husband was just released from police custody. He still has a fine to pay.” “If you want to file a report, you can come directly to the precinct.” To my surprise, Vivian let out a cold laugh. “Ethan, I’m not in the mood for your games.” The next second, she hung up. I had no idea what was going on, but the police told me to wait at the station while they called Vivian to come and pay the fine. Half an hour later, Vivian stormed in. Her face was dark, and she was grilling one of the officers. “Are you telling me he was really in a holding cell for the past ten days? He didn’t go anywhere?” The officer snapped back, “Believe what you want. Just pay the fine.” On the way to her office, I pieced together the story from Vivian’s conversation with her assistant. Yesterday, a crucial bid proposal had vanished from her desk drawer. It was for the company’s most important project of the year, a highly confidential document, and Vivian had the only final copy. The bid was due tomorrow. I was confused. “Something that important didn’t have a backup?” The assistant answered in a small voice, “Mr. Levy accidentally spilled water on Ms. Levy’s laptop. The hard drive was completely fried.” Vivian’s voice was a low warning. “Adrian already feels terrible about it. He’s sensitive. You are not to mention this in front of him.” The entire office was in a state of emergency, everyone scrambling. The only person who wasn’t was Adrian, who was sitting in Vivian’s chair, lazily browsing the web. When he saw me, a smile spread across his face and he strode over. “Vivian, you found Ethan! Does that mean you found the file, too?” He took Vivian’s hand, his fingers playfully intertwining with hers. “I told you Ethan was just angry and took the file to get back at you. You don’t need to worry about the bid.” Vivian’s expression was strange. She said nothing. Adrian’s smile faltered. His eyes shifted to me. “Ethan, you didn’t… lose the file, did you?” When I didn’t answer, he frowned slightly. “Ethan, I heard Vivian asked for a divorce. I know what she did was wrong, and you must be upset.” “But you shouldn’t have taken a company document. That’s everyone’s hard work.” He changed his tone. “Just give the file back. I’ve already talked to Vivian. She won’t press charges.” Vivian forced out a few words. “He didn’t take it.” Adrian froze. “What? How is that possible…” Just then, the system’s voice boomed in my head. “Slap him. Hard. Now!” How could I dare to touch the man Vivian cherished? But looking at the scene before me, I understood. The system had made me smash the police car to give me an airtight alibi. It wasn’t trying to hurt me. With that realization, I swung with all my might. My palm connected with Adrian’s face with a sickening crack. “You fake!” I spat, reciting the lines the system had prepared. “Who the hell are you to stick your nose in my family’s business? If you’re so concerned, why don’t you try keeping your eyes off another man’s wife for a change!” “You knew I couldn’t have the file, so you fanned the flames on purpose. I bet you’re the one who took it!” The air went still. Adrian clutched his cheek, his face a mask of disbelief. “You…” I slapped him again, a backhand this time. “‘You’ what?! Don’t talk to me. I don’t speak to home-wrecking scum. It’s disgusting!” “Ethan, are you insane?!” Vivian finally reacted, grabbing my wrist. Following the system’s command, I snatched the water glass from her desk and threw its contents in her face. The scalding water drenched her. Vivian froze. 3 She stared at me, her eyes filled with a look of utter unfamiliarity, as if I were a complete stranger. “What have you become? If I had known you were this unreasonable, back then…” I cut her off. “If I had known you were no better than a public toilet, I never would have saved you!” Years ago, Vivian’s family went bankrupt. Her father jumped from a skyscraper, and her mother followed him in death. Creditors broke her leg and threw her into the sea. I was a fisherman back then. I found her and brought her home. I thought that with just the two of us, we could at least find warmth in each other. But Adrian’s return had turned our eight-year marriage into a joke. The system’s prophecies and interventions had thrown my life into chaos. Looking at the drenched, stunned Vivian, for the first time, I regretted that day. Suddenly, Adrian cried out. He stumbled, catching himself on the desk. “Vivian, I feel dizzy.” Without even wiping the water from her face, Vivian turned and rushed to his side, helping him to the sofa. She didn’t spare me a single glance. I turned to leave, but she stopped me. “Adrian fainted because of you. Don’t you move!” She buzzed for her private doctor. After hearing Vivian’s instructions, the doctor wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Ms. Levy, while you and Mr. Levy are both Type A, anemia doesn’t necessarily require a blood transfusion.” “And even if it did, we could…” “That’s too much trouble,” Vivian’s voice was glacial. “Ethan dared to lay a hand on him, so he can take responsibility.” “Just draw his blood.” The system urged me on. “Don’t just stand there. Time to make a scene!” I dug my nails into my palm, then threw open the office door. “Urgently seeking Type A blood!” I shouted into the bustling office. “Ten thousand dollars for a pint!” I turned back to face Vivian’s shocked expression. “What, you’re not willing to part with a little cash for him?” From down the hall, employees started to gather. “Ms. Levy, sir, I’m Type A! I even have my donor card. Is it really ten thousand dollars for a pint?” I smiled. “Our CEO is in a hurry to save Mr. Levy. The more, the merrier.” With that, I pushed through the crowd and went straight home. Under the system’s guidance, I spent the rest of the day drafting a new divorce agreement. It was two in the morning when Vivian finally came home, smelling of a cologne I’d always hated. She had already forgotten. She picked up the agreement I’d drafted and let out a series of cold, mocking laughs. “Ethan, asking me to leave with nothing? Have you lost your mind?” She tossed a document at me—a voluntary organ donation form. “No more games. Either you sign this, or I’ll have someone sign it for you.” I opened it. Just as I expected. She wanted my kidney. Vivian scribbled on the divorce agreement. “Adrian is having health problems. Help him. Think of it as helping me.” “As a thank you, I’ll give you a million dollars.” She stared at me coldly. “Don’t be greedy. Don’t make me think you had ulterior motives when you saved me all those years ago.” Perhaps she was too confident. After that, she went into the master bedroom to sleep. A cold wind blew in from the window, and a chill ran down my spine. Following the system’s command, I opened the laptop in the study. Vivian’s social media password was easy to guess: the date Adrian left the country. She had once tattooed that string of numbers on her ankle. I took a picture of the organ donation agreement and posted it online. The caption read: High price for a matching kidney, $1 million. Serious inquiries only. Below it, I posted Vivian’s phone number.

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1 After an eight-year relationship, I was pregnant and getting married. At the altar, the officiant asked if I would take Leo Miller as my husband. Just as I was about to say yes, a tiny, childlike voice echoed in my mind. 【Mommy, don’t say yes! My daddy isn’t Leo Miller!】 【Your sister is the one carrying Leo’s baby!】 The two sentences completely short-circuited my brain. The entire wedding party was waiting for my answer, but I was frozen. If the baby in my belly wasn’t Leo’s, then whose was it? The next moment, the little voice continued. 【Silly Mommy, that cheater has been sleeping with your sister for ages! If you marry him, he’s going to lock you in the basement!】 【Quick, call for my real dad’s help! He’s the richest, most handsome man in the audience!】 I was stunned. My eyes involuntarily darted to a man in the front row—the notoriously aloof and untouchable titan of high society, Julian Astor. … Even though it was my wedding, everyone’s attention seemed to gravitate toward him. The man’s presence was magnetic, his looks and aura utterly captivating. I glanced at him, and my gaze met his icy stare. I quickly looked away, my heart pounding. “Sweetie, do you even know who that is?” I thought desperately. “He’s the CEO of the Astor Corporation, the biggest conglomerate in the country. He’s never been seen with a woman. How could you possibly be his child?” “I know Leo isn’t rich, but you can’t just make things up and disown your own father! Honey, you need to face reality.” “It’s a little late to be picking a new dad. Try again in your next life.” I tried to soothe the little voice, assuming he was just being a snob about Leo’s finances. But I never expected him to shout back. 【Have you forgotten that time you woke up in a hotel room?】 【Your fiancé and your sister tricked you, intending to sell you to a client. But you stumbled into the wrong room…】 【The man lying next to you that morning was Julian Astor!】 My jaw dropped. “He’s Julian Astor? I thought it was Leo…” The memories came rushing back like a tidal wave: a dark room, a back covered in red marks, limbs tangled together. Leo was still looking at me with a gentle expression, but all I could see was Julian’s sweat-slicked body, hear his strained, controlled breaths. My hands pinned above my head as he took what he wanted. The famously self-disciplined tycoon was an absolute animal behind closed doors. The officiant, seeing my hesitation, repeated the question. “Ms. Hayes, do you take Mr. Miller to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Leo squeezed my hand, his face etched with concern. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Are you having second thoughts?” He gently stroked my palm. “Don’t be scared. Once you’re part of my family, I’ll give you everything. I’ll cherish you.” 【Don’t believe a word he says! He bought a villa right next to your new house, a place for him, your sister, and their baby!】 The voice jolted me back to reality. “I don’t!” I shouted. A gasp rippled through the crowd. The Millers were a prominent family in the city of Silver Creek. For me to publicly reject Leo was something no one had anticipated. After all, I had chased him relentlessly for years, shamelessly playing the part of the devoted puppy. Everyone said Chloe Hayes was a wild, shameless flirt. Now that I finally had him, I was throwing it all away. Leo’s face turned ugly. He never imagined I would refuse him at the altar. “Chloe, stop playing around. This is our wedding! If you have a problem with me, we can talk about it later…” 【Later will be too late! My real dad is about to fly overseas to chase after his old flame!】 【Mom, time is running out! Ditch this scumbag and get my handsome, rich daddy back!】 “I’m not marrying him!” I said, my voice firm. My own son wouldn’t lie to me. If he said Leo was a cheater, then I couldn’t marry him. Just then, my sister, Sarah, walked onto the stage, her hand resting on her swollen belly. She stood beside Leo. “Chloe, what’s all this about? Leo agreed to marry you, didn’t he?” As she got closer, I noticed the diamond ring on her finger. It was the exact same style as my wedding ring. But comparing the two, mine looked like cheap plastic. In that instant, everything clicked into place. The baby in my womb was just a pawn in her and Leo’s scheme. As an adopted daughter, she could never marry into the Miller family. I was just a tool, a means for her to secure that alliance. My parents stood up, their voices filled with fury. “Chloe! Haven’t you embarrassed our family enough? You think you can just call off a wedding like this?” “You’re the one who begged to marry Leo, and now you’re backing out at the last minute! Do you think marriage is a game? Why can’t you be more sensible, like your sister?” “You are getting married today, whether you like it or not!” 2 The wedding had devolved into a farce. Guests whispered among themselves, eagerly awaiting the next chapter of my humiliation. “That Hayes girl is nothing but trouble. First, she shamelessly chases after the Miller heir, and now that she’s got him, she wants to call it off. The whole town is just waiting to see her get thrown out of her own family.” “Her adopted sister is so much better. She’s refined, well-mannered, married some rich kid. She knows her place.” “The Hayes family is so unlucky to have a daughter like that.” The whispers reached my ears, and I realized my reputation in Silver Creek had hit rock bottom. But I used to be the well-bred, respected daughter of the Hayes family. It seemed that ever since Sarah had been adopted, my status had plummeted. My parents’ and Leo’s attitudes toward me had slowly changed. Leo grabbed my hand, ignoring my protests as he addressed the guests. “Chloe is just a little overwhelmed. Please forgive her. She agrees to marry me, and I am willing to take her as my wife.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sarah clench her fists. I took a deep breath and yanked my hand away from Leo. “I said no, and I mean it! I know about you and my sister! The baby in her belly is yours, isn’t it, Leo?” My words exploded like a bomb in the banquet hall. 【Way to go, Mom! Expose those two-faced liars!】 【Your sister has been spreading rumors about you for years! She’s the reason your reputation is in the gutter!】 The little voice in my belly cheered, egging on the chaos. “What are you talking about?!” Sarah clutched her mouth, feigning innocence. “Chloe, I can handle you bullying me in private, but why would you say something so horrible in front of everyone?” “How could you use my baby as an excuse to run away from your own wedding?” Her words seemed to steady Leo. His guilt-ridden expression hardened into one of righteous indignation. “Chloe, that’s enough! Even if you don’t want to get married, you have no right to slander me and your sister!” My parents looked at me with utter disappointment and rage. “Are you out of your mind?! Humiliating your sister and your fiancé in public? Why did we ever have a daughter like you?” “Do you have any idea what a laughingstock you’ve made of us?” The guests were practically howling with laughter. “This is better than a movie! The eldest Hayes daughter, accusing her own fiancé and sister of an affair at her wedding! She really is shameless!” I tore off my veil and threw it to the ground, turning to leave. But several large men blocked the exit. While I was distracted, Leo seized my wrist, intending to drag me through the rest of the ceremony. His voice was a low hiss, his usually gentle face contorted with rage. “Once you’re a Miller, you won’t have the luxury of being so impulsive!” The eyes of the crowd were filled with mockery and amusement. No one cared what I wanted. For the first time, a cold wave of clarity washed over me. I finally understood how dire my situation was. I was nothing but a pawn to my fiancé and my adopted sister. The voice in my belly screamed in panic. 【Once this ceremony is over, your husband is going to find an excuse to lock you in the basement!】 【There are black cars waiting outside! The moment you step out of this hall, they’re going to grab you!】 【Mom, ask my real dad for help! Now!】 Julian Astor? I looked to where he had been sitting, but he was already on his feet, heading for the exit with his assistant. 【Oh no, Dad is leaving to catch his flight! He’s going to find his old flame!】 This might be my last chance. In a moment of desperation, I bit down hard on the fleshy part of Leo’s hand. He cried out in pain and loosened his grip. I spun around and bolted, throwing myself in Julian’s direction. Bodyguards moved to intercept me, but I shoved a table over, sending a tower of wine glasses crashing to the floor. The crowd shrieked as I tore through the chaos, the long train of my dress trailing behind me. I didn’t care. I ran straight for Julian. His assistant was caught off guard. Julian heard the commotion and turned just as I slammed into his chest. “Take me with you,” I begged. “Please!” His face was obscured by the light, but the next thing I knew, I was being shoved to the ground. He brushed off his suit as if I were something filthy, his eyes filled with disgust. “Get lost. Don’t you know I don’t touch women?” 【He’s bluffing! Don’t believe him! He’s just putting on an act now. Once he falls for you, he’ll turn into a clingy little puppy!】 Julian turned to leave again, but I grabbed the hem of his pants, refusing to let go. Footsteps pounded behind me. Leo and his bodyguards caught up, restraining me. My parents looked on in terror at the thunderous expression on Julian’s face. “We are so sorry, Mr. Astor! Our daughter isn’t well. We will come to your home personally to apologize for this offense!” Leo chimed in, his voice groveling. “Mr. Astor, it’s my fault. I should have kept a better eye on her. I’ll make sure she’s properly disciplined. Please, forgive us!” Sarah just stared at Julian with a look of pure adoration, the same look every woman in Silver Creek seemed to have for him. Julian didn’t answer. He just looked down at my hand clutching his pant leg. Sarah followed his gaze, then lifted her stiletto and brought it down hard on the back of my hand. “Chloe, how dare you accost Mr. Astor! Let go!” I cried out in pain. Julian took the opportunity to pull his leg free and strode away without a backward glance. As his figure was about to disappear, I screamed in desperation, “Julian Astor, the baby I’m carrying is yours!” 3 Julian froze. A strange, unnerving silence fell over the room. The guests all turned to stare at me, their expressions shifting from mockery to a kind of pitying disbelief, as if I were a complete lunatic. Sarah, clearly delighted that I was now dragging Julian into this mess, leaned in and whispered, “Trying to climb the social ladder, are we, Chloe? I think you picked the wrong branch.” “Julian Astor is not a man you can just latch onto.” She was right. Everyone knew Julian Astor was a virtual monk, repulsed by contact with women. The string of prayer beads he always carried was proof of his celibacy. The last woman who tried to get close to him with ulterior motives ended up with broken bones and a tombstone for a future. “Is this woman suicidal? I thought she was just trashy, but it turns out she’s insane. No one who crosses Mr. Astor ends up well…” The crowd held its breath, waiting for Julian to explode. As expected, he turned, his lips pressed into a thin, hard line, his face a mask of cold fury. His gaze was like that of an executioner as he stared at me, his fingers working the prayer beads. “My child? Heh. You’ve got some nerve, Ms. Hayes.” “No one in this city has ever been bold enough to show up pregnant and claim the child is mine. I’ve heard about your reputation. Have you really sunk so low as to claim another man as your baby’s father at your own wedding?” The clicking of the beads echoed in the silent hall, a sound that struck fear into everyone’s hearts. It was the sound of Julian’s impending wrath. Leo immediately pushed my head to the floor, forcing me to bow as he pleaded with Julian. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Astor! She’s really not in her right mind! Please, just forgive her this once!” “Apologize to Mr. Astor! Now!” Seeing that Leo didn’t seem to care at all that I had just announced the child wasn’t his, I knew he was well aware of the truth. He just wanted to control me, to have a convenient cover for his affair with Sarah. 【Don’t be scared, Mom! If you can prove the baby is Dad’s, he won’t abandon you!】 【Once you have the Astor family backing you, all these people who bullied you will get what’s coming to them!】 Proof? I let out a bitter laugh. What proof did I have? I didn’t even know the man. My parents rushed forward and slapped me twice, hard. “Apologize to Mr. Astor! Are you trying to get our entire family killed?” my mother shrieked. Julian looked down at me from his lofty height. I was a pathetic mess, like a worm in the dirt. The memory of that passionate night felt like a distant, unreal dream. But then, I remembered something. I looked up at him, my voice surprisingly calm. “Mr. Astor, I saw the rose-colored birthmark.” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes widened in surprise. The birthmark was on his lower abdomen, a very private place. No one who wasn’t intimate with him could possibly know about it. The other guests just looked at each other, confused. But Sarah, ever the opportunist, chimed in. “Chloe, everyone has birthmarks. You can’t use something so trivial as proof of a relationship with Mr. Astor. Countless women have tried similar tricks over the years.” “If you really want to prove the baby is his, why not get a paternity test?” Sarah was smug. She didn’t believe for a second that there was anything between me and Julian. After all, how could a nobody from a minor family like the Hayeses ever get involved with the most powerful man in Silver Creek? Leo had pulled every string he had, spent a fortune, just to get Julian to even show up at the wedding. The crowd immediately agreed. “Yeah, a paternity test! That will shut her up!” “Who does she think she is, trying to claim a connection to Mr. Astor? And at her own wedding! What a shameless tramp!” “She wants to make a scene? Let’s give her a paternity test and expose her for the liar she is! Run her out of town!” Julian’s expression was unreadable, but after a moment, he nodded, giving me a chance. “Fine. A paternity test. At least you’ll know why you’re being destroyed.” 【You’re amazing, Mom! I can’t wait to see Dad eat his words! Hahaha!】 【Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to handle him. Once he falls in love with you, you’ll have a loyal little puppy on your hands!】 The wedding fiasco quickly became the talk of the town. Julian’s grandfather, the patriarch of the Astor family, heard the news and rushed to the scene. When he saw the private doctor drawing my blood, a look of pure joy spread across his face. “This is wonderful! I might get to hold my grandchild before I die.” Julian sneered. “Let’s hope she’s still in one piece when the results come back and expose her.” I closed my eyes, letting them draw my blood. My parents stood by, trembling with fear, terrified I would bring ruin upon the family. Leo’s face was a thundercloud. His fiancée was getting a paternity test for another man’s child at their own wedding. Even if that other man was Julian Astor, it was the ultimate humiliation. 【Good thing Mom didn’t marry this Miller guy. He was planning how to torture you after the wedding!】 【Oww, needles hurt! But I’ll endure it for Mommy’s happiness!】 I was bruised and battered, and the blood draw left me weak and dizzy. I leaned on the little voice’s encouragement as I waited for the results. The guests stared at me with hungry, predatory eyes, all of them eagerly anticipating my downfall. No one believed that the celibate Julian Astor could have a child. I was starting to realize that if the baby wasn’t his, my life was over. Finally, there were hurried footsteps outside. Julian’s assistant rushed in, clutching a report, and whispered something in Julian’s ear. Julian’s cold, indifferent expression was replaced by one of utter shock. His grandfather, growing impatient, tapped his cane on the floor. “Stop whispering! Is it my great-grandchild or not? Just say it!” Sarah giggled, covering her mouth. “Is there even a question? Of course it’s not a Astor. It’s all just my sister’s lies…” The assistant wiped the sweat from his brow and announced, “The probability of paternity between Ms. Hayes’ child and Mr. Astor is 99.99%!”

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After my husband’s college friend died, she came back as a cat. A cat that ate imported food, lived in a luxury cat condo, and made a habit of biting and scratching me. If I showed the slightest hint of annoyance, my husband, Mark, would lay into me. “Are you seriously jealous of a cat? Rebecca is gone. This cat is all I have left of her. Can’t you let me have this one thing to remember her by?” The cat would look at me triumphantly before snuggling into Mark’s arms. He’d stroke its fur, his voice dripping with affection. “Poor Rebecca,” he’d murmur. “If I could do it all over again, I would have given you a child, so you wouldn’t have been so alone.” I scoffed. I could make her not so alone right now. So I took her to the park. There were plenty of strays there. Tomcats in heat. They would absolutely adore her. 1 The moment Mark stepped out to grab a package, the cat leaped from its condo. It marched right up to me, back arched, teeth bared, a low growl rumbling in its throat. I ignored it and turned to go to my room, but it pounced, claws sinking into my arm. Three angry red lines instantly welled with blood. I winced, grabbing a slipper from the floor. I had just raised it when the front door opened. Instantly, the cat retracted its claws, tucked its tail between its legs, and trotted over to Mark’s feet. It looked up at him, mewing pitifully, its eyes glistening with fake tears. It kept glancing at me, as if I had committed some unspeakable crime. Mark scooped it up, gently stroking its fur. “What’s wrong, Mittens?” he cooed. “Who upset you?” I held out my bleeding arm. “Mark, she scratched me. Look.” Without even glancing at my arm, he continued to soothe the cat. “That’s impossible. Mittens is the sweetest, gentlest cat. She would never scratch anyone without a reason. You must have done something to scare her. Honestly, you’re a grown woman. Why are you picking on a cat?” The cat nuzzled against his chest and shot me a smug little wink. The look of triumph in its eyes was almost comical. My hand tightened on the slipper, knuckles white. A heavy stone of resentment settled in my chest. I said nothing more. A few days later, Mark went to the grocery store, leaving me to feed the cat. I poured the expensive, imported food into its bowl. The cat sniffed it, then swatted the bowl with its paw, sending kibble scattering across the floor. A few pieces even landed on my pants. As I knelt to clean it up, the cat started batting at my hair, then walked all over my clothes, smearing litter from its paws onto my collar. That was the last straw. I stood up to get a broom and shoo it away, but as I reached the doorway, I heard a key in the lock. The cat immediately ran to the door, meowing at Mark. It deliberately slammed itself into my leg and then flopped dramatically onto the floor, rolling onto its back, exposing its belly, as if it were on the brink of death. Mark rushed over, his voice laced with panic. “Mittens! What happened? Did she push you? Are you hurt, baby?” I gritted my teeth. “She ran into me on purpose. She knocked over her food and got litter all over me!” Mark’s face darkened. “Abby, stop making things up. Mittens is a good girl. She would never do something like that. You probably didn’t want to feed her, so you provoked her, and when she got scared, she ran into you.” His voice turned cold. “How many times do I have to tell you? Be nice to her. Treat her like family. Why won’t you listen?” He bent down, his voice softening as he spoke to the cat. “It’s okay, Mittens. Daddy’s here. No one’s going to hurt you. Just stay away from her from now on.” The cat closed its eyes, a smirk playing on its feline lips. It even rubbed its head against Mark’s chin, the picture of spoiled arrogance. I was so furious my hands were shaking. Mark would always believe the cat. It would always be my fault. The evidence could be right in front of his face, and he would still find a way to blame me. 2 Mark’s obsession with the cat was spiraling out of control. We’d had a mouse problem a while back, and he’d bought some rat poison, stashing it in a box on the lowest shelf of a cabinet. One morning, I was in the kitchen making oatmeal while Mark was in the living room, cuddling the cat and watching TV. I turned to get some salt, and I heard the sound of the box toppling over. When I ran out, I saw the cat pawing at the packet of poison. It had already torn a hole in it, and white powder was sprinkled all over the floor. Some of it was on its paws. I rushed to grab the packet, but the cat was gone. I quietly followed it back to the kitchen. And I watched as it lifted its paw and deliberately shook the poison into my oatmeal. “What are you doing?!” I screamed, lunging for it. Mark came in, saw the mess on the floor and the powder in my bowl, and just laughed. He scooped up the cat. “You’re such a little rascal, Mittens,” he said, tapping its head affectionately, not a hint of reprimand in his voice. My own voice was shaking. “She put rat poison in my oatmeal! I could have died!” Mark glanced at the bowl, completely unconcerned. “It’s not a big deal. Just throw it out. She’s a cat, she doesn’t know any better. She was just playing.” The cat nuzzled against him, its eyes fixed on me, a clear challenge in them. Seeing Mark’s nonchalant attitude, a fire ignited in my chest. “She doesn’t know any better? How did she know where the poison was? How did she know to open the box? And how did she just happen to put it in my oatmeal?” Mark’s expression soured. “What are you trying to say? That she’s trying to poison you? She’s just a cat. What kind of evil plan could she possibly have?” I looked at the cat in his arms. It was squinting, as if it were smiling. How could it have been so precise? Mark put the cat down. “Alright, stop standing there like a statue. Throw out the oatmeal and make a new batch. And from now on, put that stuff on a higher shelf, where Mittens can’t get to it.” Then he went back to the living room with the cat, as if nothing had happened. I stood in the kitchen, staring at the poisoned oatmeal, a chill spreading through me. I was more certain than ever. There was something very, very wrong with that cat. It wasn’t playing. It was trying to kill me. 3 This silver tabby was Rebecca’s cat. After Rebecca’s accident, Mark brought it home. He bought it the best food, luxury collars, and took it for regular grooming appointments. He even brought it with us when we visited my parents. My mom’s dog, a friendly old golden retriever, came up to sniff the cat, and the cat hissed. Mark immediately clutched the cat to his chest and yelled at me. “Can’t you control your dog? What if it scared Mittens?” My mom quickly pulled the dog away. “He was just curious,” she said. But Mark wouldn’t let it go. “What if he had bitten her? This cat is all I have left of Rebecca. If anything happened to it, could you afford to replace her?” All our relatives were staring. I just stood there, speechless. All of our money went to the cat. I contributed my salary to the household expenses, so it was my money buying those luxury cat supplies. And the cat hated me. It bit and scratched me at every opportunity. Once, it bit my arm so hard it broke the skin. I had to get a rabies shot. I had a bad reaction to the vaccine and broke out in a rash all over my body. I called Mark to tell him I was having an allergic reaction and needed to go to the hospital. “Okay, I’m taking Mittens for her grooming appointment. I’ll deal with it later,” he said, and hung up. He didn’t even ask if I was okay. I went to the hospital by myself and got some medication. When I got home, Mark was already there, feeding the cat treats. “This rash is really uncomfortable,” I said. “Mm-hmm,” he replied, not looking up. The cat hissed at me, pawing the air. “Don’t do that, you might scratch her,” Mark said, holding its paw down. “Aren’t you even a little bit concerned about my allergic reaction?” I asked. He finally looked up, his voice tinged with annoyance. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a rash. Take some medicine and you’ll be fine. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill. You’re ruining my quality time with Mittens.” The cat nuzzled against him, its eyes glinting. I thought about the stares from my relatives, the scratches on my arms, the painful rash, the rat poison. A wave of despair washed over me. Mark was still talking. “Mittens has been through so much. Rebecca’s gone. If I don’t spoil her, who will? You’re the woman of the house, can’t you be a little more gracious? It’s just a cat. This is ridiculous.” 4 After the rat poison incident, I started to notice more and more strange things. The cat was too smart, too human-like. The way it looked at me was exactly the way Rebecca used to look at me. I even started to wonder if Rebecca’s soul had somehow possessed the cat. Whenever Mark and I tried to be intimate, the cat would interfere. It would either jump on the bed and scratch me, or it would start meowing incessantly until we gave up. Mark never blamed the cat. He would just coo, “Is my little Mittens jealous? It’s okay, Daddy loves you too.” Then he’d turn to me and complain, “Can’t you wait until she’s asleep? She’s just a baby, she needs attention.” I didn’t argue, but the suspicion in my heart grew stronger. The final straw came last week. Mark said it was time for the cat’s annual check-up and asked me to drive it to the vet. I put the cat in its carrier on the passenger seat. The moment we got on the highway, it started thrashing around, clawing at the bars of the carrier and yowling at me. I glanced over for just a second, and the car swerved violently toward the guardrail. I slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt just inches from a crash. My heart was pounding in my chest. I turned to look at the cat. It was calm now, but its eyes were filled with disappointment. In that moment, I knew. It was Rebecca. She had tried to make me crash. She wanted to get rid of me and take my place. A cold fear washed over me. I didn’t say anything. I just drove to the vet, got the check-up done, and drove home, my hands shaking the whole time. When Mark saw a small scratch on the cat, he demanded to know what happened. When I told him about the near-accident, he, a grown man, actually burst into tears. 5 He clutched the cat to his chest, burying his face in its fur. “My poor baby,” he sobbed. “Don’t you ever leave me, okay? Daddy was so scared. I promise I’ll never let you out of my sight again.” He stroked the cat’s soft fur, his eyes filled with a profound sadness. “Oh, Rebecca,” he whispered, “you were taken too soon. This little cat is all I have left. If anything happened to her, I could never face you.” The cat snuggled against him, mewing softly. I stood there, watching this pathetic display, and then I said, my voice flat, “It’s simple. Take her to a breeder. With her pedigree, you could charge a thousand a session. She’d have a waiting list. She has a litter of kittens, and your precious memory can live on.” Mark stared at me, then his expression hardened into a snarl. “Absolutely not! Mittens is pure. How could I let her breed with some random, dirty cat? What are you thinking?” The cat, startled by his shouting, flinched and tucked its tail between its legs, its eyes wide and wet. But through the act, I saw a flash of anger in its eyes as it glared at me. Keep pretending, I thought. Mark immediately softened his tone, cooing at the cat. “It’s okay, baby, I wasn’t yelling at you. I was yelling at her. No one is ever going to make you do that.” He turned back to me, his voice sharp with accusation. “What is wrong with you? This is Rebecca’s legacy. How could I subject her to something so degrading? What are you trying to accomplish?” I just smiled. “What could I possibly be trying to accomplish? You’re the one who’s afraid she’s going to die. This is just a way to ensure she has offspring.” “Not like that!” Mark’s face was flushed with anger. “Who knows where those breeder cats have been? What if they have diseases? What if they hurt her? No! Absolutely not!” The cat in his arms preened, a flicker of triumph in its eyes. I didn’t argue. I just looked at the cat. So, you don’t like the pampered, purebred tomcats at the breeders? Fine. Don’t blame me for what happens next. There were plenty of dirty, mangy strays in the park. And when they were in heat, they weren’t picky. Let’s see how your precious Rebecca enjoys being “loved” by them. 6 The next day, Mark had to go on an unexpected business trip. As he was leaving, he held the cat, reluctant to let it go. “You have to take good care of Mittens,” he repeated for the tenth time. “Feed her on time, don’t let her get upset, and don’t you dare hit her.” “I will,” I said. He still didn’t look convinced. “I’m serious, Abby. If I come back and find out you’ve mistreated her, I will make you regret it.” The cat looked at me over his shoulder, a smug expression on its face. Mark finally let it go and left, looking back every few steps. The moment the door closed, I turned to the cat and smiled. It seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere and backed away, its eyes wary. I went to the kitchen, and when it wasn’t looking, I took a small vial from the cabinet and sprinkled its contents into the cat food, mixing it in thoroughly. The cat hesitated, but it was hungry. And probably confident that with Mark’s protection, I wouldn’t dare do anything. It started to eat. A few minutes later, it started to wobble, its movements uncoordinated. It stared at me, its eyes wide with terror. I knelt in front of it. “You’re Rebecca, aren’t you?” It stiffened, stumbling backward, a low growl in its throat. “You tried to poison me, you tried to make me crash my car, all to drive a wedge between me and Mark. Did you ever think it would end like this?” My voice was calm, even. It scrambled backward, its paws scrabbling on the floor, trying to escape but unable to stand. It staggered to the coffee table, grabbed my phone, and, with its nose, managed to unlock the screen. It tried to dial Mark’s number, but his phone was already off. He was on the plane. The cat stared at the blank screen, its terror turning to despair. It swayed, then collapsed. I picked it up and walked out of the house. I took it to the park and placed it on a bench. It was still unconscious, its body twitching occasionally. A few mangy stray cats started to approach, their eyes glowing in the dusk. Just then, my phone rang. It was a video call from Mark. He had just landed. “Abby, where are you? How’s Mittens? Does she miss me?” I aimed the camera at the bench. Mark froze. His eyes widened. “NO!” he screamed.

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