My boyfriend was cooking dinner when his phone lit up on the coffee table. A message popped up from a female coworker. “Miss you.” I thought for a moment, then replied for him. “Come over. She’s not home.” Chapter 1 It was a miracle Ethan wasn’t working overtime this weekend. I’d begged him for weeks to make his signature BBQ baby back ribs. While he was busy in the kitchen, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. I tapped the screen, but it stayed dark. I leaned in closer. A privacy screen. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I suddenly remembered something a coworker told me over drinks: “When your man puts a privacy screen on his phone, he’s got secrets.” That sentence felt like a splinter under my skin. I tried to convince myself it was just a coincidence, but doubt spreads like wildfire. Luckily, he hadn’t changed his passcode yet. I unlocked it. There was one new notification. A text from a number I didn’t recognize. The message was short, simple, and devastating. “Miss you.” My heart seized. I stared at those two words. I scrolled up. The chat history was empty. Deleted. But those two words were enough to tear my world apart. I tried to steady my breathing, but my hand shook, knocking a coaster off the table. Ethan poked his head out of the kitchen, spatula in hand. “Everything okay, babe?” I forced a smile, sliding his phone into my pocket. “Fine. Just wondering how the ribs are coming along.” “It’s gonna be a while,” he grumbled, wiping sweat from his forehead. “The glaze isn’t reducing right. Next time, let’s just order takeout.” I froze, then nodded. “Sure.” Ethan seemed to have forgotten—I’m from the East Coast. I prefer savory. I hate sweet BBQ sauce. He was the one who loved the sugar-heavy ribs. When we first bought this condo, he had stood in that empty kitchen, eyes shining with pride. “This is my command center, Sarah. No entry without the chef’s permission!” Back then, he loved this home. He loved making memories with me. The phone in my pocket felt heavy, like a lead weight burning against my thigh. Once my heart rate slowed, I made a decision. I pulled out the phone and typed a reply. “Come over. She’s not home.” I needed to know who she was. And I needed to know what Ethan would do. Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. I smoothed my shirt and walked to the door. My hand hovered over the cold metal knob. I took a breath and swung it open. The woman outside froze. The excited smile on her face died the second she saw me. I looked her over. Younger. Fit. Pretty. I couldn’t help but compare myself to her, and the conclusion was brutal—she had me beat in every category. “You must be Sarah.” “You know me?” “Ethan mentioned you.” The thought that my name was just part of their pillow talk made me sick. She seemed to realize she was still holding something. She lifted a Tupperware container. “I’m just here to return this.” “Ethan brought ribs to the office last week. My blood sugar crashed, and he insisted I eat his lunch.” Staring at the container—the one Ethan and I bought together at Target—I remembered how annoyed he was this morning when I asked him to cook. Rage, hot and bright, flared in my chest. I turned and shouted toward the kitchen. “Honey! Someone’s here for you!” Ethan walked out, wiping his hands on a towel. When he saw her, he stopped dead. I watched them closely. There wasn’t the panic I expected. Just confusion. “Hailey? What are you doing here?” Ethan asked. “I was in the neighborhood,” she said, her voice smooth. “Remembered I still had your Tupperware. I texted you.” “Texted me?” Ethan frowned, glancing at me, then back at her. His face hardened. “Just leave it on the table.” But she didn’t leave. She stood in the doorway, her eyes locking onto mine with a challenge. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Sarah?” I let out a dry laugh and stepped aside, looking at Ethan. “Yeah, Ethan. Invite your guest in. Perfect timing, you’re making ribs again.” I emphasized “ribs.” Ethan’s face went pale. “Stop it,” he muttered. Sensing the tension, Hailey gave a lazy shrug. “Actually, I just remembered I have plans. I forgot because I was so excited… to return the container. Maybe next time.” I didn’t say a word. I just watched cold-eyed as Ethan walked her out. When he came back, his expression was dark enough to summon a storm. “What? Sad to see her go?” I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. Ethan glared at me. “Don’t start, Sarah. She’s just a colleague.” Did he really think I was that stupid? “A colleague? Do colleagues text ‘Miss you’ to each other on weekends?” Ethan rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. “We’re working on a massive project together. High stress. We joke around to blow off steam. That’s all.” I didn’t believe a word of it. We screamed at each other for an hour. After that night, the air in the condo turned toxic. I started wondering if I had overreacted. Maybe I was crazy. But Ethan’s explanation was full of holes. Living like this was suffocating. 2 I told my best friend, Jess, about my suspicions. She laughed for a solid minute. After my parents died in a car wreck, Jess and Ethan became my only family. “You’re spiraling, Sarah,” Jess said. “Don’t you remember college? Ethan spent an entire semester eating ramen just so he could buy you coffee every morning. He rode the bus for an hour just to get you those specific bagels you liked. The guy worships you.” I smiled weakly. “Yeah. I guess I forgot.” Jess launched into a nostalgic retelling of our college romance, but it felt like she was talking about two strangers. That was ten years ago. I was two months away from turning twenty-eight. Before she left, Jess grabbed my hand. “Sarah, just talk to him. Fix it. Get a ring on that finger soon.” “Don’t let this drag on.” We both knew what she meant. The “Sunk Cost Fallacy.” Ten years was a lot of time to lose. That night, I texted Ethan. I sent him a photo of myself in a new lace negligee I’d bought. Normally, he’d reply instantly with something like, “On my way. Don’t move.” Tonight, three hours passed before a bubble appeared. “Working late.” I closed iMessage and opened Instagram. I searched his handle. The green dot was lit. Active Now. He wasn’t working. I looked down at my hands. I’d chewed a ragged edge into my thumb nail. After my parents died, I developed a habit of biting my nails when I was anxious. Ethan used to gently pull my hand away. He bought that bitter-tasting polish to help me stop. Now… I felt a surge of irritation. I wanted to leave him on read. But Jess’s voice echoed in my head. Fix it. I typed again. “It’s okay. I’ll wait up for you.” He didn’t reply. 3 I sat in the living room, the lace negligee long since replaced by oversized sweats. The clock on the wall ticked past 1:00 AM. I held the photo album Ethan had made for our first anniversary. When did we go from soulmates to roommates who barely spoke? Click. Whirrr. The smart lock engaged. I looked up, hoping to catch his eye. Ethan stood in the entryway for a long time before stepping inside. When he finally looked at me, his gaze slid away instantly. That avoidance hurt more than any insult. He kicked off his shoes. “Can you stop leaving your sneakers in the middle of the floor?” he snapped. I blinked. Before I could move, he kicked my Nikes into the corner. There was a time he would line my shoes up perfectly. A time he charged my toothbrush. A time he swapped out my winter closet for summer. Those days were gone. Ethan walked into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. A new glass. He sat at the dining table, drinking alone. I stared at the glass. We used to share everything. “Why didn’t you grab a glass for me?” I asked, my voice small. “I didn’t think you were thirsty.” He turned his back to me, scrolling on his phone. I didn’t want to fight. I wanted us back. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Get off!” He flinched like I burned him, shaking me off. I stared at the red mark on my wrist where he’d grabbed me. “Today is our ten-year anniversary,” I whispered. Ethan froze. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by cold indifference. “Send me a link for what you want. I’ll buy it tomorrow.” He spoke like he was approving a business expense. “It doesn’t count if it’s tomorrow,” I said, tilting my head, trying to channel the playful girl he used to love. He used to say I looked cute when I was mad. Now, he looked at me like I was a stranger. “Sarah.” He used my full name. The invisible wall between us just got ten feet higher. “Grow up.” Two words. Like ice picks. “We’re twenty-eight. We aren’t kids anymore. You can’t build a life on anniversaries.” My chest ached. The man in front of me—in his tailored suit, looking tired and cynical—was nothing like the boy in the white t-shirt who used to laugh with me in the campus quad. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “I’m twenty-eight.” “You know where I’m at,” he interrupted, cutting off the conversation I hadn’t started yet. “My career is stalling. I’m not ready for marriage…” His phone rang. He glanced at the screen and silenced it immediately. My stomach dropped. But I forced myself to stay calm. I even tried to sound sweet. “So, when will you be ready?” 4 He didn’t answer. He didn’t ask for more time. Instead, he said: “If you feel like you’re wasting your time, then…” “Then break up with you? So I have to be the bad guy?” The words hung in the air. Ethan sighed. “I’m just not good enough for you, Sarah.” I snapped. The anxiety that had been boiling all night finally exploded. “Not good enough? You didn’t seem to have that problem when you chased me for two years in college!” Ethan’s face turned red. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t even want to fight for us. He grabbed his keys and headed for the guest bedroom. He twisted the knob. Locked. “Sarah! Stop playing games! Open the door!” “I told you to fix that lock months ago,” I said coldly. “The wind slammed it shut earlier. I can’t open it either.” He looked at the balcony door, checking if I was lying. The silence was heavy. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go to a hotel.” That broke me. I stood up, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. “A hotel? This condo is too small for you now? Or are you just done pretending?” Ethan looked shocked. I never raised my voice. “If anyone is going to a hotel, it should be me! You bought this place, right? God forbid I inconvenience you!” I was screaming now, hurting him on purpose because I wanted him to feel a fraction of what I felt. “You’re always like this, Sarah,” he spat. “Selfish. You never think about anyone else.” “Selfish?” My eyes widened. “Last week! You invite my colleague inside? Do you have any idea how awkward that makes things for me at work?” “Awkward? She texted you ‘Miss you’ at dinner time! Am I supposed to ignore that?” “I’m done explaining this. Think what you want.” He turned and walked to the front door. Hand on the latch, he paused. He didn’t look back. “Sarah. If you really think we can’t make this work… then maybe we shouldn’t.” I stood there, stiff as a board. I didn’t answer. That was the moment I knew. Ethan didn’t love me anymore. 5 Ethan didn’t come home after that. Friday night, Jess messaged our group chat. “Guys! It’s happening! I’m getting married!” She attached a digital invitation. She tagged both of us. “My favorite college power couple needs to be there to support me! Details are in the link. No excuses!” I waited. Ethan didn’t reply. I didn’t want Jess to worry. “Yay! We’ll be there,” I typed. Seconds later, a DM from Ethan popped up. “Make up an excuse. Tell them I’m traveling or sick. I’m not going.” I hesitated. “But she invited both of us. It’s rude not to go. Jess is my best friend.” I watched the “typing” bubbles appear and disappear. Finally: “Sarah, let’s break up.” I stared at the screen. Tears hit the glass. My fingers felt numb. I typed out a paragraph, deleted it. Typed another, deleted it. Finally, out of pure spite and exhaustion, I typed one word. “Fine.”

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I thought Preston Hayes was faking a disability and bankruptcy just to get out of our engagement. So, I kicked his wheelchair and demanded cash. I figured he’d eventually drop the act. Years later, after Preston rebuilt his empire, a reporter asked him during a live interview: “Mr. Hayes, doctors said you had almost zero chance of walking again. How did you do it?” Preston leaned into the microphone, voice trembling with emotion. “It was all thanks to my fiancée.” The reporter sighed, misty-eyed. “That is so touching. She stood by you at your lowest point. True love really exists.” Preston gritted his teeth, a vein popping in his forehead. “No. She thought I was faking it and bullied me until I stood up!” Chapter 1 Unlike the “Old Money” crowd, my family is what they call “Nouveau Riche.” My dad made his fortune in construction and waste management. We have money, but we’ve never had the pedigree. Growing up, the debutantes of the Upper East Side froze me out. I was too loud, too tacky, too new. They didn’t want me, and honestly, I didn’t care for them. But I had a chip on my shoulder. Everything changed when I got engaged to Preston Hayes. The Hayes family is practically American royalty. They aren’t just rich; they are “building wings for museums” rich. Preston was the golden boy. Ivy League education, business prodigy. While other trust fund babies were partying in Ibiza, he was launching tech startups. Being his fiancée came with perks. The snobs who used to ignore me now had to kiss my ring. It was satisfying. Of course, I heard the whispers in the ladies’ room. “Why is she so smug? Preston doesn’t love her. It’s just a business merger. Everyone knows Clarissa is the only one he ever loved.” “I bet he dumps her before the wedding.” I sipped my champagne and ignored them. So what if he had a “one that got away”? Preston was marrying me. 2 I was enjoying the high life until the rumors started. The Hayes Empire was crumbling. Bankruptcy imminent. And Preston? Reportedly paralyzed in a car accident. The vultures circled immediately. The socialites were having a field day. Tiffany, my arch-nemesis since prep school, smirked at me during brunch. “The Hayes dynasty survived the Great Depression, but it collapses the second they get involved with her family. Talk about bad luck.” Her friend giggled. “Maybe it’s fake. A desperate move to shake off the engagement.” “I heard Clarissa is back in town.” Their gossip was malicious, but it sparked a thought. Preston hadn’t said a word to me. No warning. Just sudden ruin? It smelled like a setup. He wanted to dump me for Clarissa? And he was playing the “I’m broken, leave me” card to do it? Oh, hell no. I wasn’t going to let him off that easy. I was going to cling to him like a leech. 3 I skipped lunch and drove straight to the Hayes estate. I heard the voices before I saw them. A group of trust-fund jerks—Preston’s so-called friends—were gathered in the driveway. “Look at you, Preston. You used to be the King of New York. Now look at you. If I told you to bark like a dog, you couldn’t even stand up to bite me.” “Remember how you used to tell us to get lost? Who’s worthless now?” “Brody, leave him alone. He’s crippled. He can’t run away.” They roared with laughter. Preston sat in a sleek black wheelchair, his face void of emotion. His eyes were cold, staring at nothing, taking the abuse. I scoffed. What a performance. I show up, and coincidentally catch him at his most pathetic moment? It was too perfect. If he wanted to play the victim to scare me off, I’d play along. I slammed my car door shut and marched over, heels clicking loudly on the pavement. Brody turned around and whistled. “Well, look who it is. Bella Moretti. Here to return the ring?” I glared at him. “Get lost.” Brody’s face turned red. “Don’t talk to me like that, you trashy little upstart. You and the cripple deserve each other.” Smack. I slapped him across the face so hard my hand stung. “Did that fix your hearing?” “You b*tch!” I grew up with construction workers and tough guys. I took self-defense classes while these guys were playing polo. I kicked Brody square in the knee. He crumbled to the ground. “Apologize to Preston,” I ordered. “You’re crazy! Your dad has a contract with my dad!” “I don’t care. Apologize.” Brody gritted his teeth, humiliated. “Sorry, Preston.” He scrambled up, glaring at me. “You’re just in it for the money anyway. Now that he’s broke and broken, why bother?” There it was. The setup. They were trying to force me to break the engagement. I looked at Preston. “None of your business,” I said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I don’t love his money. I love his soul.” “No matter what happens, I’m standing by my man.” Behind me, Preston’s hand gripped his thigh so hard his knuckles turned white. 4 The jerks scrambled. Preston looked up at me, eyes dark. “You didn’t have to do that. We barely know each other. They’re right. I’m useless now.” “The engagement… we should…” I slapped a hand over his mouth. “I told you, you’re stuck with me. This is just a little setback.” I looked at his legs. “What did the doctor say? Will you walk?” Preston looked down, a shadow crossing his face. “He said there’s a ten percent chance.” I grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Ten percent is enough. I’ll help you. You will walk again.” I’m not letting you go to Clarissa that easily, buddy. He looked at me for a long time, as if searching for a lie. “Okay.” The next few weeks were a masterclass in acting. I watched him in the rehab center. He would struggle to stand, fall, drag himself up, sweat dripping down his face, biting his lip until it bled. From the sidelines, I watched critically. Damn, he’s committed to the bit. To keep an eye on him (and his fake bankruptcy), I made him move into my penthouse. “I can take better care of you here,” I lied. Preston looked at me with those deep, brooding eyes. I decided to treat him like he was actually disabled. I cooked (badly), I drove him to therapy, I acted like the saintly fiancée. It seemed to work. He was starting to trust me. One day, he tried to stand in the living room and collapsed. He punched his paralyzed leg in frustration. I walked over and stopped his hand. “Easy,” I cooed. “Don’t rush it.” He leaned his head against my waist, exhausted. “I promise, Bella. I’ll give you the life you deserve.” It was the most sincere thing he’d ever said. I figured the prank was almost over. 5 On Monday, Preston had a “checkup.” I pretended I was busy so I didn’t have to watch him act. While scrolling Instagram in bed, I saw Tiffany’s story. “Saw Preston Hayes at lunch. He practically ran to Clarissa the second she landed at JFK.” “Bankruptcy is definitely a fake. And the wheelchair? Please.” “He’s trying so hard to get the Trash Princess to dump him.” So, he wasn’t at the doctor. He was with Clarissa. I stared at the phone. Fine. Most guys in our circle had a “one that got away.” I didn’t marry him for love; I married him for the merger. I could tolerate a side piece. I couldn’t tolerate being played. I sat in the dark living room, waiting. He didn’t come home until sunset. He rolled in, saw me sitting in the dark, and frowned. “Bella? Why are the lights off?” I rubbed my temples. “Just thinking.” Preston wheeled closer. He looked guilty. “I need to tell you something.” Here it comes. “I’m a burden,” he said, voice raspy. “I have nothing left. You should break the engagement. It’s for your own good.” For my own good? The audacity. I snapped. “Enough!” I stood up and glared down at him. “You’re faking a disability and hiding your assets just to run off with your high school sweetheart?” “You want to dump me for Clarissa? Dream on! Where’s your money? Give it to me!” “You’ve been living here for free, eating my food. Pay me back!” Preston looked genuinely confused. “Clarissa? I… I’m not faking. The bankruptcy is real…” “Liar!” I screamed. “I want five million dollars in my account by tomorrow, or you’re dead meat.” He grabbed my hand, desperate. “Give me a week. Please.” A week? If he was really broke, he’d need a lifetime. A week meant he had the money stashed somewhere. I shook him off. “Fine. One week.”

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Chapter 1 During a team meeting, my mom FaceTime’d me out of nowhere. She said she missed me. She just wanted to see my face. Mr. Stirling, my boss, snapped at me. “Cut the noise. We’re in the middle of a briefing.” I had to decline the call. I texted Mom, In a meeting. Call you after work. But she wouldn’t listen. The phone buzzed again and again. She kept sending video requests, typing that she missed me so much, begging for just one look. I was reaching to silence it when Stirling lost it. He snatched my phone, hurled it onto the concrete floor, and screamed, ” I said cut the noise!” The screen shattered. The phone went black. I didn’t dare make a sound. When the meeting ended, Stirling tossed a couple of hundred-dollar bills on the ground. He looked at me with cold, dead eyes. “Fix it. If it buzzes in my meeting again, you’re fired.” I picked up the phone. It was cracked, but it wasn’t dead. It had just rebooted. As soon as it turned on—twenty missed calls. I opened my messages. Mom had sent a string of voice notes. “Caleb, baby, Mama misses you. Are they treating you okay out there?” “Eat right, okay? Mama feels… heavy. Like I can’t catch my breath.” “Baby, don’t cry. Mama loves you so much. If I don’t make it… I’ll watch over you from Heaven.” My mind went blank. The world stopped spinning. Then, a text from Pops popped up: Get the first bus home. Your mother’s gone. I stared at the cracked screen, my hands shaking so hard I nearly dropped it again. I tried to call Pops. When he answered, my throat felt like it was stuffed with broken glass. It hurt to speak. Pops was broken, but he tried to calm me down. “Don’t panic, son. Just… breathe.” But I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t form sentences. I just stuttered, choking on tears, “What do I do? Pops, I don’t have a Mama anymore.” I collapsed on the office floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Stirling stormed back into the conference room. “What is wrong with you? Crying like a baby in the middle of the day? I have clients in my office!” “My mom…” I choked out. “My mom is gone.” Stirling paused for a second, then sneered. “Your mom died, not mine. I’m closing a deal. You want to cry? Take it outside.” He muttered something about “bad luck” and slammed the door. I wiped my face, adrenaline mixing with grief. I chased him out and grabbed his arm. “I need bereavement leave. I’m going home. Now.” Stirling looked at me like I was a cockroach. “You’re taking leave during our busiest season? Fine. Bring me a death certificate first.” “She just passed,” I said, my voice trembling. “There is no certificate yet. I need to go.” “Then have your family send a picture of the body.” I froze. I thought I misheard him. “Excuse me?” “Video call,” he said, checking his watch. “Put a mirror under her nose. No fog after two minutes? She’s dead. I’m busy. Don’t waste my time.” He waved me off and turned to walk away. I grabbed his suit jacket and yanked him back. Hard. The office went silent. Everyone stared. I clenched my fist, every muscle in my body screaming to smash his face in. Stirling pointed a finger in my face. “Let go. Policy is policy.” I swallowed the rage. I had to. If I hit him now, the cops would come. If I got locked up, I’d miss the funeral. I wouldn’t see Mama one last time. I let go. Stirling smirked, thinking I was weak. “Coward. All bark, no bite. This is a business, not a daycare.” I gritted my teeth. “I’m not asking for leave. I quit.” I shoved past him, wiping my eyes, and headed for the door. But this time, Stirling grabbed my arm. “Quitting? Fine. Pay the damages first.” Chapter 2 I stopped. “What damages?” “Company policy,” he sneered. “You’ve been here less than a year. Breach of contract. Training fees, equipment fees… comes out to three grand. Pay up, then you can go.” I was confused. “Training? I started working the minute I walked in the door.” “Working here is the training,” he said smoothly. “You’re learning skills. That costs money.” I looked at him, disbelief washing over me. “My mother just passed away, and you’re trying to shake me down?” He shrugged. “Rules are rules. You either pay, or you get on your knees and apologize for the disruption. Once your family proves she’s a corpse, I’ll give you one day off.” I couldn’t believe a human being could be this vile. Stirling leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper. “In my house, you don’t disrespect me. If I don’t break you today, how do I manage the rest of these sheep? Everyone has problems. Your mom croaking isn’t an excuse to inconvenience me.” He glared at me, then walked into his office, telling the security guard to lock the main doors. “He doesn’t leave until he pays.” The guard, a big guy who followed orders blindly, moved to block the exit. I walked toward the glass doors. The guard stepped up. I didn’t slow down. I kicked the fire safety box on the wall. Crash. I grabbed the red emergency axe. My chest was heaving. I tried to calm down. I thought of Mama. She hated violence. She hated when I fought. The guard was trembling now. I remembered how Mama used to visit the houses of the kids I fought, begging their parents not to call the cops, paying for their medical bills with money she didn’t have. She was gone now. I had to see her. I couldn’t go to jail. I ignored the guard and swung the axe. SMASH. The tempered glass of the main door shattered into a million diamonds. I dropped the axe and walked out. Behind me, Stirling was screaming. He chased me to the sidewalk, face red with fury. “You son of a b*tch! You walk away, and you’re done!” I turned around. My eyes were cold. “If I didn’t have to see my mother, you’d be ending today.” He scoffed. “Tough guy. You think I’m scared?” I didn’t answer. I got in a cab. On the way to the bus station, a coworker called. “Caleb, you’re screwed. Stirling is furious. He says you owe for the door and the fees. He’s going to sue.” “Let him,” I said. “His contract is illegal. No judge will enforce it.” “It’s not about the law,” the coworker whispered. “Stirling targets guys like us—from the sticks, no college, desperate. It’s his business model. You made him look weak. If he doesn’t crush you, the scam falls apart.” “He’s calling in favors,” the coworker added. “He pulled your address from HR files. He’s bringing guys to your place. He wants to make an example out of you.” “Okay,” I said. I hung up. I opened Mama’s chat. I played her last voice note again. “If I don’t make it… I’ll watch over you.” I listened to her voice, sitting in the back of a Greyhound bus, crying like a lost child. Mid-sob, a text came in from Stirling. Wait there, trash. I’m going to send you to meet your mother. Chapter 3 I made it back to the Hollow. The old folks were sitting on their porches. When they saw me, the chatter stopped. They went inside. As I walked down the dirt road, blinds were drawn. Doors were locked. They hated me here. My hands had too much red on them from the old days. I was one of the “left-behind” kids. My folks went to the city to work off debts, leaving me with my grandparents in this forgotten corner of the state. Kids without parents get bullied. That’s the law of the playground. But I was born mean. I never backed down. Every kid who tried me ended up in the clinic. The neighbors called me a menace. They stormed my grandparents’ house, demanding justice. Mama had to come back. She spent every dime she saved bailing me out, paying for stitches and broken teeth. She hugged me while I was still covered in dirt. She cried. “Are you crying because we’re broke?” I had asked her, acting tough. “I’m crying because my baby is hurting,” she wailed. That was the day I changed. I swallowed my temper. I went to the city. I wanted to make money so she could rest. But she didn’t get to rest. I wiped my eyes. I ignored the dirty looks from the neighbors. I rounded the corner to my dad’s trailer. I stopped. A black SUV was parked in the yard. Stirling was there. And he wasn’t alone. He had five guys with him—bikers, roughnecks. My dad was bowing to them, apologizing. Stirling poked my dad in the chest. “Who do you think you are? Your son caused the damage. Your son pays.” I didn’t expect him to beat me here. But I took the bus. He drove a luxury car on the highway. “Sir,” my dad pleaded. “My boy has a temper. I’m sorry. But my wife… she’s laying inside. Please, out of respect for the dead, can we talk after the funeral?” “Your wife kicked the bucket, not mine!” Stirling shouted. “Good riddance, I say. Raising a piece of trash like your son? She checked out early to avoid the shame!” I walked toward them. “There he is!” Stirling pointed. The thugs circled me. “My mother is inside,” I said, my voice low. “I don’t want trouble right now.” The leader of the thugs, a guy with a neck tattoo and a shaved head, stepped forward. He blew cigarette smoke in my face. “What if I want trouble?” Chapter 4 Stirling puffed up his chest. He had his army now. He tapped my sternum hard. “You were real loud in the office, Caleb. Said you were gonna end me?” I looked at the thugs. Then at Stirling. “Let me light a candle for my mom. That’s all I ask.” “I don’t have time for your voodoo,” Stirling spat. He pulled out his phone and started recording. “Here’s the deal. You disrespected me. You’re gonna kneel down, right here, and beg for forgiveness. You’re gonna admit you owe me the money.” My dad stepped in. “Sir, please! His mother just passed! Asking him to kneel… it ain’t right!” “Right?” Stirling laughed. He gestured to his hired muscle. “I paid these gentlemen good money to come out to this dump. Do you think I care about what’s right? I’m bullying you. Because I can.” My dad looked at me, eyes pleading. “See?” Stirling grinned. “Even your old man is a coward.” “I’m begging him not to hurt you,” Dad said honestly. “Please, just go. If you push him, you’re gonna get hurt.” Stirling fake-shivered. “Ooh, I’m shaking. Your boy gonna beat me up?” “He’s the only one his Mama could control,” Dad whispered. The bald thug flicked his cigarette butt at me. It hit my cheek, sparks stinging my skin. He grabbed a handful of my hair. “Your daddy talks big. Come on then. Hurt me.” I took a deep breath. “Pops, is the hearse coming?” “Yeah,” Dad whispered. “Soon.” I nodded. I shoved the thug backward and walked into the trailer. “Hey!” Stirling screamed. “I’m talking to you, dirtbag!” I ignored him. My heart was breaking. I walked into the bedroom. There she was. She looked peaceful. Just sleeping. Her hands were cold. I knelt beside her. “I just wanted you to have a good life, Mama. Why did I take that job? Why wasn’t I here?” Dad came in. “She wanted to talk to you. Your phone was off. I recorded it.” He held up his phone. On the screen, Mama looked frail. Every breath was a struggle. “Caleb… eat well. Dress warm. I tried to save for your wedding… but I’m useless. I only saved five grand.” She wiped her eyes on the screen. “It’s in the coffee tin… under the sink. Buy a car. Find a nice girl. Mama loves you…” Suddenly, Stirling burst into the room. He pointed at the cupboard under the sink. “Five grand! You heard it! That’s my compensation!” I turned, eyes burning. “I am listening to my mother’s last words! Shut up!”

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Chapter 1 When the news broke that Mason and Hailey were getting married, the internet exploded with joy. Everyone expected me to have a meltdown. After all, I’d spent the last ten years chasing Mason like a pathetic, love-struck puppy. Everyone thought I was obsessed with him. Nobody knew that I’d been waiting for this day. For ten long years. I wanted them to get married more than anyone. At the wedding, hundreds of cameras were set up, and top influencers were live-streaming the event. “Finally! Mason and Hailey are tying the knot. That other girl must be dying right now, LOL.” “It hasn’t been easy for Mason and Hailey. My girl Hailey finally got her happy ending.” “If it wasn’t for that toxic witch, Mason would have married my goddess ages ago. But hey, at least her existence made Hailey realize her true feelings.” “Sobbing! Mason, please take care of Hailey!” “I hope that psycho doesn’t ruin today.” The comments scrolled by in a blur. I read a few and lost interest. They were either blessing the couple or cursing me out. A decade ago, I would have been in the comments fighting for my life. But after ten years of this, I was immune. I stood in a corner, scanning the venue. Please, I prayed silently. Let this wedding happen. It has to happen. To blend in, I wore a dress completely unlike my usual style. For one day, I would play the role of a sophisticated lady. The venue was buzzing. I saw Mason’s parents in the front row, Hailey’s parents, and then… my father and stepmother. And plenty of other familiar faces from our social circle. On the massive screen above the altar, a slideshow of Mason and Hailey played. Their smiles—smiles I used to beg for—were plastered everywhere. The music swelled. The officiant took his place. The wedding began. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I was more nervous than the bride and groom. This moment determined my entire future. I was done being the hated, desperate ex. Call me a villain? Fine, I’ll own it. But call me a simp? Absolutely not. Mason stood at the altar in a sharp tuxedo, his posture perfect. He watched his bride walk down the aisle with deep, unwavering affection. “Look at his eyes! He’s so in love.” “OMG, Mason’s gaze is killing me.” “Hailey is so beautiful.” Hailey was an A-list actress, the nation’s sweetheart. Mason had generously opened up 100 spots for her fans to attend the wedding. The people standing next to me were probably some of the lucky few. “Look! They’re exchanging rings!” My attention snapped back to the stage. Mason had already slid the ring onto Hailey’s finger. Now it was her turn. I held my breath as she lifted Mason’s hand. Just a second before the ring touched his finger, she froze. Her gaze cut through the crowd and landed straight on me. I knew it. She saw me. I hadn’t expected her to let me off easy, not even on her big day. Sure enough, Hailey picked up the microphone. Chapter 2 “Thank you all for coming to our wedding,” Hailey said, her voice trembling slightly. “But I also want to thank someone special. Someone you all know.” Everyone followed her gaze until it landed on me. It took a moment for the crowd to realize who I was. “You all know it wasn’t easy for Mason and me to get here. We faced so many obstacles.” Yes, obstacles I created. Not just to fulfill my mission, but because I wanted to. “Bella, I know you’re not happy about this,” Hailey continued, staring right at me. “But I want you to know that true love doesn’t care who came first. You’ve been by Mason’s side for a long time, but he’s only ever seen you as a sister. I hope one day you find someone who truly loves you.” “And thank you, Mason, for always choosing me.” I felt the hostile stares burning into me. A few people even moved closer, glaring at me with undisguised hatred. This was exactly what Hailey wanted. To drag me out and publicly humiliate me one last time before she put that ring on. She finally turned back to Mason and slid the band onto his finger without hesitation. My heart finally settled back into my chest. “Mason and Hailey are married now,” a girl next to me hissed. “If you try to ruin their relationship again, Mason won’t let you off the hook.” I looked at her and nodded earnestly. “Don’t worry. I wish them a lifetime of togetherness. Locked down. Forever.” DING— 【Congratulations, Host! Mason and Hailey are officially married. Mission accomplished. Happy Ending achieved!】 【Confetti! Confetti!】 【Host, your mission is complete. I’m leaving now.】 【Where will you go?】 This was a voice only I could hear. It belonged to the System—a voice I’d been hearing for ten years, ever since it first appeared. Hailey was its Host. From the System, I learned that I was the “villainess.” I tried to change my fate, but nothing worked. So, I leaned into the role. I played the villain. I waited for the plot to end. I waited for it to leave. 【I’m going to another world!】 【Okay, 1807. Thank you for giving me a new life.】 【You’re welcome, Host. Take care of yourself. I won’t be coming back.】 【Mhm!】 Silence followed. It seemed System 1807 was truly gone. Now that 1807 had left, the real villainess could finally take the stage. Before I turned to leave, I caught Hailey’s eye on stage. I gave her a small smile. Your good days are officially over. Chapter 3 The first thing I did when I got back to my apartment was throw out everything from my past life and call movers. Then, I unpinned a chat on WeChat and sent a single message. By the time I was done, it was past midnight. For ten years, I had dutifully played the role of the villain. The male and female leads needed conflict to deepen their love, and I was happy to be the tool that provided it. But now, the story was over. Without the plot controlling me, who knew what would happen next? Everything I had given away as a plot device, I was going to take back. Piece by piece. Starting with Mason’s position. Three days later, the hype around Mason and Hailey’s wedding was still dominating the headlines. It was being called the “Wedding of the Century.” Hailey used the buzz to break into international markets, expanding her fame even further. On the third day after the wedding, the traditional “homecoming” visit, I went back to the family house too. I could hear laughter from inside before I even opened the door. I could imagine the warm, happy family scene. But I was here to ruin the mood. Hailey was the first to react. “Bella’s back! We were just talking about you. It’s been so long since we all sat down for a meal together.” “Since you’re here, join us.” “Sure,” I said. Watching their forced smiles made the air taste sweeter. “Since you’re back, try to get along with your sister,” my biological father, Simon, said sternly. “Don’t start any drama. They’re married now. If you try to interfere, you’re just a homewrecker.” I looked at him. It was hard to believe a father could speak to his child like that. But I’d heard worse from him. I didn’t care anymore, so it didn’t hurt. “Don’t worry. I have no interest in doing something so low-class when someone already has a family.” Simon’s face darkened visibly. Just then, the housekeeper announced dinner was ready, breaking the tension. But as soon as I sat down, Hailey spoke up. “Mom usually sits there. Bella, would you mind moving?” I gave Hailey a look that was half-smile, half-sneer. She returned it with a gentle, saintly smile. Only I knew how rotten she was on the inside. Lauren, my stepmother, laughed it off. “If Bella likes that seat, let her have it.” Even Mason frowned at me disapprovingly. “Bella, you really haven’t changed.” Chapter 4 SLAM. I slapped my hand on the table. “This is my house. Who told you I have to watch outsiders’ moods to eat in my own home? Eat if you want, otherwise get out!” The sound made everyone jump. No one expected me to fight back—especially not against Mason. Everyone knew I was the girl who couldn’t get over him. Back when I was a rebellious teen, I only listened to Mason. He used it to brag: Look, she’s a rich heiress, but she does whatever I say. So they all assumed I wouldn’t fight back. They forgot that I used to have claws. I’d been a simp for ten years, but my edges hadn’t disappeared. I’d just hidden them. Now that I was free, I wasn’t going to suffer in silence anymore. “Bella, have you lost your mind?!” Simon roared, slamming the table even harder than I had. My hand throbbed in sympathy. “Do you want me to kick you out?” I rubbed my palm under the table. It felt good to be fierce, but it hurt my hand. In the past, I would have been crying and apologizing by now. Villain Rule #1: Lack of love. Specifically, fatherly love. The thought of being kicked out used to terrify me. When the plot controlled me, Simon held all the cards. But the plot was gone. “Dad, you seem to have forgotten something. The name on the deed to this villa is Bella Shen.” Simon froze. Lauren saw the mood shift and quickly tried to smooth things over. “Bella, stop joking. The deed is locked in the safe. Your father can’t take a joke like that.” Simon seemed to snap out of it, banging on the table again. “You ungrateful brat!” Fine. My friendly reminder fell on deaf ears. “Martha, serve dinner!” “Coming, Miss Bella!” “Don’t call me Miss Bella. Call me the Second Miss!” Martha ignored me and went back to the kitchen. Martha’s cooking was as delicious as ever. Hailey looked pale. Being called the “Second Miss” clearly struck a nerve. “Dad, are you planning to put Hailey on the family registry?” Hailey was Simon and Lauren’s daughter, born three months before me. “Dad, need I remind you? The ‘Shen’ in Shen Family stands for Shen Ci—my mother. Not Simon Shen.” Shen Ci. My mother. A gentle woman, but too love-struck. She fell for Simon, a gold-digger from a poor background, and paid for it with her life.

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I spent seven years as Christian Vance’s executive assistant and nine years as his secret lover. Until one morning, on my 29th birthday, I woke up in his bed, and he casually gave me an order: “Clear my schedule for April. I need the month off for my wedding.” I froze, my eyes instantly stinging with tears. He chuckled, looking at me with amusement. “You didn’t think I was marrying you, did you?” I asked him, “Then… what am I?” He pulled me into his arms, soothing me like a child. “You know how the Vance family is. If you married in, they’d eat you alive. Keeping you on the side is freer. It protects you.” “Babe, it’s just a business merger. It won’t affect us. You’re still the one I love most.” In that split second, I suddenly didn’t love him anymore. Chapter 1 At 7:00 AM sharp, the alarm went off. I kept my eyes closed and nudged the warm chest behind me. “Get up, Christian.” The arm around my waist tightened, pulling me back into his embrace. His body heat was overwhelming, pressing against me. I was still sore from last night, my voice raspy as I reminded him, “We’re going to be late…” “Five more minutes,” he murmured against my neck, his voice thick with sleep and desire. “I’ll be quick.” We had always been compatible in bed. His stamina was terrifying. An hour later. My legs were trembling as I stood in front of the mirror, tying his Windsor knot. He raised a hand to smooth my messy hair, looking satisfied and lazy. “Still mad?” I glared at him, a flush still on my cheeks. “My perfect attendance bonus is gone, Mr. Vance.” His fingers traced a red mark on my collarbone, his voice teasing. “I’ll pay you double. Deal?” I slapped his hand away. “We are seriously late!” He was over thirty, yet he had the energy of a teenager. I straightened my blazer and switched into professional mode. “10:00 AM signing ceremony. Lunch with CEO Caldwell at noon. 2:00 PM executive board meeting. 4:00 PM construction negotiation with Mr. Chen. 6:30 PM, the Industry Gala dinner.” “Got it.” He nodded, fastening his Patek Philippe watch. In an instant, he transformed back into the cold,禁欲 (ascetic) CEO the world knew. He glanced at his wrist. “Oh, right.” As if remembering a minor detail, he instructed me: “Clear my schedule for April. I need the time for my wedding.” My hands shook violently. The tie I was fixing unraveled. I couldn’t process it. He said… wedding. Was he… proposing? My eyes welled up. Tears fell before I could stop them. We had been running this marathon for nearly a decade. I had waited so long for this day. “No?” His voice came from above, tinged with awkwardness. He looked at me, frowned, and then laughed. “You didn’t think I was marrying you, did you?” It was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I stood frozen. The messy sheets, the evidence of our intimacy, suddenly looked blindingly grotesque. He paused, then clarified. “It’s Bianca Sterling.” The Sterling family’s eldest daughter. A pamperd heiress. A match that screamed “old money” and “power couple.” Silence stretched out, suffocating. I looked at him, my lips trembling. “Then… what about me?” He turned his head slightly, avoiding my gaze. “You know my father’s health is failing. My cousin is making a play for the CEO spot. We’re going public soon. Merging with the Sterling family is the best strategic move.” He looked back at me, his eyes softening with that familiar, manipulative comfort. “Eva, I’m doing this for our career.” It sounded so noble. Our career. “By the way, Bianca can be a bit entitled. Just humor her. Don’t take it to heart.” He patted my head. “I won’t let you be mistreated.” I looked out the floor-to-ceiling window. The festive New Year’s decorations outside clashed with the blinding sunlight. My eyes burned. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. “So, you never planned to marry me?” A flash of impatience crossed his face. “Eva, is that piece of paper really that important to you?” “You know my family. They’re vipers. If you married in, you’d suffer. Keeping you outside the family is freedom. It’s for your own protection.” I smiled bitterly. What a “noble” sacrifice. His parents had always looked down on me. I was the girl from the trailer park. No matter how competent I was, to them, I was just a gold digger climbing the corporate ladder in Christian’s bed. I closed my eyes, tears streaming down. “Christian, what have I been all these years?” “Your lover? Or just a kept pet?” He sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “Don’t overthink it. Have you ever seen anyone keep a ‘pet’ for ten years?” He pulled me into a hug. “Babe, it’s just a business marriage. I promise I won’t touch her. You’re still the one I love.” “My heart has been yours for nine years. Have I ever strayed? Look at our circle. Who else is as loyal as I am?” He wasn’t wrong. In this circle of billionaires, fidelity was a myth. Open marriages and a carousel of mistresses were the norm. Christian was different. Everyone knew the CEO was obsessed with his secretary. For nine years, he had put me on a pedestal. Chapter 2 I first met Christian Vance during my senior year of high school. He had just taken over the family business and came to my school in the Rust Belt for a charity event. I was the student representative presenting him with flowers. Suddenly, my father stormed onto the campus, grabbing my arm, screaming that I had to drop out. He needed me to work at a factory. He owed gambling debts, and selling me off to a local mechanic for a quick dowry was his solution. At the age when dignity matters most, I was slapped twice across the face in front of the whole school. Just as I felt I was drowning, a cold, clear voice descended from above. “How much? I’ll pay it.” I looked up. Christian was in his early twenties then. Sharp brows, phoenix eyes, possessing a calm authority far beyond his years. The debt was $25,000. He wrote a check for $50,000. He bought my freedom and severed my ties with my father. He was like a god descending to pull me out of the mud. I didn’t know then that $50,000 wouldn’t even buy a single screw in the watch he wore. A casual act of kindness changed a poor girl’s destiny forever. After that, his assistant wired me money every year for tuition. I never saw him again. For years, I sketched his face in my memory. When I was 20, I had saved up every cent he had given me. I wanted to pay him back. I didn’t have his number, so I waited in the lobby of Vance Enterprises. It was a freezing winter day in New York. After three hours, I saw his Maybach pull up. “Mr. Vance!” I rushed forward. He glanced at me sideways, frowning. The window rolled up, sealing him away. He didn’t remember me. I panicked and reached out, my fingers getting pinched in the closing window. “Mr. Vance, I’m Eva Saunders! You sponsored me three years ago!” The window lowered slowly. He turned, his gaze landing on me. I handed him the envelope of cash, my fingers throbbing. “I don’t need the sponsorship anymore. This is to pay you back.” “I’ll pay back the original $50,000 slowly.” I bowed deeply. “Thank you for saving me. You’re a good man.” “Oh. It’s you.” He scanned me, his eyes lingering on my red, swollen fingers. “Get in. Let’s go to the hospital.” “No, Mr. Vance, I… I’m fine.” I clenched my hands, stepping back in embarrassment. My nose was red from the cold, my coat was from a thrift store, and my boots were worn out. I was a vision of poverty, completely out of place against his luxury car. Eventually, his driver got out and opened the door for me. I sat on the edge of the leather seat. It was warm inside, a different world from the freezing city streets. I tried to hide my scuffed boots and pilling sweater. The heat hit my face, mixing with shame, turning my ears bright red. He broke the silence. “You made that much money in two years of college?” I nodded, face burning. “I keep my scholarship. And I buy vintage clothes from estate sales to resell online. I made a decent profit.” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “You have a head for business.” He paused. “Interested in interning at Vance Enterprises over the winter break?” I nodded furiously. “Really? Yes! Thank you, Mr. Vance!” Chapter 3 That winter, I became a lowly intern in the Secretary’s Office. Surrounded by Ivy League elites, I felt like an ugly duckling. Christian had impossibly high standards. During the day, I ran around until my feet blistered. At night, after everyone left, I stayed behind to study the files. One evening, I was still at my desk. Outside, the Manhattan skyline glittered. I didn’t notice. “Why haven’t you clocked out?” The low voice startled me. I spun around. Christian stood there, framed by the city lights, looking like a king. “What are you reading?” He leaned over, looking at my screen. Private Equity. Options. Leverage. I stammered, “I heard you discussing these terms with a client… I didn’t understand, so I wanted to learn.” He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Ambition is good.” He walked to a bookshelf and pulled out a few volumes. “Read these instead.” He tapped my desk. “It’s late. Go home. I don’t run a sweatshop.” We walked out of the building together, only to run into a college classmate who had been stalking me. I had rejected him multiple times, but he had followed me to work. “Eva! I’ve been waiting for hours. Let’s get dinner.” I was mortified. After getting rid of him, I apologized profusely to Christian. “Mr. Vance, I promise he won’t come back. It won’t affect my work.” He raised an eyebrow. “Suitor?” “Sort of…” He tilted his head, looking at me. “Do you know the best way to reject someone?” I shook my head blankly. He smiled, a look that was hard to read. “Tell them you have a boyfriend.” “But I don’t…” “What kind of boyfriend do you like?” he asked. “I don’t know…” I twisted my fingers nervously. He lowered his head, staring straight into my eyes. “Is someone older okay?” I avoided his gaze, heart pounding. His eyes burned into me. “Is someone like me okay?” Handsome, wealthy, successful. To a girl from nowhere, he was the ultimate dream. Maybe I had fallen for him the moment I looked up at him at 18. I didn’t know why he wanted me—a plain, boring girl. Maybe he was bored. Maybe I was a novelty. I never expected that I would spend my twenties in his shadow. Walking beside him for nearly ten years, only to end up here. Chapter 4 “Miss Saunders, I hope you know your place.” It was something Christian used to say when we argued. At work, we were boss and subordinate. If I messed up, he scolded me, and I took it. At home, he would hold me and say, “You can’t talk back to the boss, but you can talk back to your boyfriend.” That was the “place” he gave me. Now, his fiancée was saying the exact same words to me. “Miss Saunders, I hope you know your place.” When Bianca Sterling appeared at the company, it caused a sensation. We had kept our relationship low-key at the office, but nine years of glances and body language couldn’t be hidden. Everyone knew. I was the last to know about the marriage. “I thought Eva would finally get the ring,” VP Miller whispered loudly to a group of employees. “Guess the boss finally woke up.” “Nine years with the same woman? Even if she’s a supermodel, you’d get sick of it.” “No comparison. Eva is pretty, but look at Bianca. That Hermès bag alone is worth more than Eva’s life.” Miller had always hated me. He made sure I heard every word. Bianca sat on the sofa in the CEO’s office. She looked immaculate in a tweed Chanel suit that would look matronly on anyone else but looked royal on her. She looked me up and down and laughed lightly. “I’ve known Christian for years. He’s a creature of habit. He eats the same dish over and over.” “It doesn’t mean the dish is good. He’s just too lazy to switch restaurants.” She lifted her chin. “But eating too much fast food is bad for your health. Don’t you agree, Miss Saunders?” I stood there, nails digging into my palms, unable to speak. “Christian has been loyal to you physically, I’ll give you that. If you stay quiet, I won’t make trouble for you. But—” She frowned, looking concerned. “You’re almost thirty, right? I’ve never seen such an… elderly mistress.” “How many years do you have left? When your looks fade, will he still care?” “There is no shortage of young faces in this city. What makes you think you can be a mistress for life?” She narrowed her eyes, enjoying my humiliation. “Secretary by day, bedwarmer by night. You really work hard, don’t you?” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Miss Sterling, my relationship with Christian isn’t what you think.” For nine years, he took me to meet his friends. They called me “sister-in-law.” We lived together. We built a home. Bianca sneered. “Eva, you’ve lived the good life so long you forgot where you came from. A trailer park girl who climbed into her sponsor’s bed to change her tax bracket. We all know how much effort that took.” “He kept you for nine years, but did he ever promise you a future?” She stepped closer. “You think because his frat buddies call you ‘sis’ that you’re Mrs. Vance? Wake up. The Vance family doesn’t let trash in the front door. He’s marrying me for power. He’s not an idiot. He won’t throw away his empire for you.” She looked at my red eyes with disgust. “Don’t go crying to Christian. Vance Enterprises needs the Sterling capital. He’s lucky I chose him.” “Men are all the same. I picked Christian because he’s handsome and cleaner than the rest.” “From now on, tuck your tail between your legs when you see me.”

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I grew up with three boys, the only girl between four powerful families. When my family fell on hard times, my parents tried to arrange a marriage with one of them. But Hunter, the bad boy, sneered at me and said, “No way. I like ’em sweet. She’s just one of the guys.” Caleb, the golden retriever type, shrugged apologetically: “I only see her as a sister.” And Ethan, the valedictorian, said coldly: “She’s reckless and stupid. Not wife material.” They rejected and belittled me without a second thought, leaving my parents to smile awkwardly through the humiliation. That was the moment I finally gave up. So, I turned to my parents and said, “Mom, Dad… I actually have a boyfriend already.” Chapter 1 Hunter sat with one arm draped over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up, looking effortlessly cool and completely disinterested. He was laughing at something Caleb said. Ethan was scrolling on his phone, the blue light reflecting off his glasses, making him look even colder than usual. They barely listened to my parents’ awkward attempts to smooth over the conversation. Until I spoke. The private dining room went dead silent. Hunter and Caleb snapped their heads toward me. Ethan looked up from his phone, his gaze sharp and probing. I ignored them. I turned to my parents, who looked just as shocked. “You should have told me about the arranged marriage sooner. We could have avoided this misunderstanding.” “They’re right.” “We grew up together, but I only see them as brothers. There’s nothing romantic between us.” My parents hadn’t told me this was a matchmaking dinner because they were afraid I wouldn’t come. They had carefully chosen Caleb—he was two years younger than me, clingy, and we rarely fought. I didn’t know why the other two showed up. I was a little mad at my parents for lying to me, but mostly, I just felt a deep, aching sadness for them. Back when my family was still doing well, my mom once asked me if I liked anyone. I looked away and didn’t answer. Mom knew immediately. She smiled and teased, asking if it was one of the “Three Musketeers.” I turned bright red and told her to stop. She took that as a yes. But after that, I became careful, burying my feelings so deep that no one, not even them, could guess who I truly loved. Then my dad made some bad investments. Our assets shrank, and the Rivera family started losing its standing. The other three families began to distance themselves. My mom thought that if she didn’t push me, my stubborn pride would keep me silent forever. So she took a risk and set up this dinner. She didn’t expect the boys who grew up protecting me to reject me so brutally. I was used to their teasing. But seeing the strained smiles on my parents’ faces made my heart twist in pain. I couldn’t take it anymore. Before my parents could ask about this “boyfriend,” I stood up. I looked around the table, my voice cold. “It doesn’t look like you guys want to be here anyway.” “Since that’s the case, let’s call it a night.” Chapter 2 My parents went to get the car. I was about to follow when someone grabbed my arm. I turned around to see Hunter’s annoyed face. He was wearing a white button-down over a black t-shirt, the top buttons undone to reveal two new diamond dermal piercings on his collarbone. Trendy, wild, just like him. He looked down at me, a mocking smile on his lips. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Temper getting worse, huh?” “You took a long leave from school. Where’d you find this boyfriend?” “How old is he? Is he hot? Do I know him?” The questions were rapid-fire, aggressive. They sounded like concern. But I knew better. If I told him the truth, he’d just blink those pretty eyes and tell me I wasn’t good enough for whoever it was. It happened every time. I reacted instinctively. I yanked my arm away and shouted, “None of your business!” Hunter looked at his empty hand, stunned. His smile dropped. He frowned, looking even more irritated. Caleb poked his head out from behind Hunter. He grinned, showing his sharp canines. “Whoa, why the big reaction?” He used that playful, high-pitched tone he always used to seem harmless. It made people let their guard down. But his words were anything but harmless. “Did you actually find some random guy, Sis?” “Wow. Aren’t the three of us enough for you?” His smile deepened. He looked at me and said, deliberately, “What a slut.” Caleb loved to joke that they were my “harem.” Like I was some queen collecting men. But in our group of four, I was the one constantly trying to fit in. I used to lie to myself. I told myself that their teasing and pranks were just “guy things.” They still hung out with me. They still beat up anyone who bullied me. We grew up together. I had to be special to them, right? Until “The Incident” happened. That was when I realized I was just a toy to them. A clown for their amusement when they got bored. I met Caleb’s gaze. He was still smiling, waiting for me to get hurt, waiting for a reaction to his insult. I stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Then I turned and walked away. A few steps later, a colder voice called out. “When are you coming back to school?” It was Ethan. I paused but didn’t turn around. It was a normal question, so I gave a normal answer. “In a couple of days.” I heard Caleb make a loud, annoyed tsk sound. He grumbled loudly, making sure I heard. “Of course. Only the ex gets a response.” “But seriously—” “You guys broke up ages ago, Sis. Why are you still treating him differently?” It was ironic. Of the three, Ethan was the most vocal about hating the idea of marrying me. He called me stupid and reckless. But he was the only one I had actually dated. And Ethan was the one who confessed to me. Chapter 3 Unlike the generational wealth of the Sullivan (Hunter), Mitchell (Caleb), and Hayes (Ethan) families, the Riveras were new money. My dad got lucky with a tech boom early on and rode the wave into their social circle. But it was superficial. Behind our backs, people called us tacky hillbillies. They said we didn’t belong and would eventually go back to where we came from. When I was little, I wanted to fight the kids who said that. But my dad stopped me. He told me that if we wanted to stay, I had to make friends with “the right people.” So I swallowed my pride. I became the tomboy, the loud, happy-go-lucky girl who tagged along with the rich kids. I realized Hunter, Caleb, and Ethan were the kings of the playground, so I stuck to them like glue. From elementary school to college. From being the annoying hanger-on to being accepted as “one of the boys.” Even though my dad’s initial advice was calculating, over the years, I truly came to love them as my best friends. Then my dad’s investments tanked. The stock market crashed. And suddenly, the boys started pulling away. In that silence, I realized that we were never equals. This time, I didn’t beg for their attention. I went to class alone. I learned to live without them. Then, I got kidnapped. When a group of guys surrounded me, demanding money, I was confused. I recognized some of them—guys I thought were my friends. I thought it was a prank. I laughed and said, “If you guys are broke, just ask. I can lend you cash.” But then they named a price I couldn’t possibly pay. And I realized they weren’t joking. They took everything valuable I had. They locked me in a warehouse for two days with no water. I heard them arguing nervously about calling my parents versus just selling me to traffickers. I felt a mix of absurdity and terror. It was like watching toddlers play with a loaded gun. Funny because they were amateurs. Terrifying because the gun was real. The humor vanished when they stripped me naked and took photos to “blackmail” my family. I curled into a ball, screaming curses at them, threatening them. But they could see my fear. One of them, a guy named Jordan who used to sit next to me in history class, crouched down. He sighed, smiling as he reached out to touch me. “Bella, forgive me.” “I actually really like you. I didn’t want to do this…” He screamed before he could finish. I bit his finger. Hard. I clamped down with every ounce of strength I had left, tasting copper, trying to bite the bone in half. The group panicked, rushing forward to pull me off. Just then— The warehouse door creaked open. A beam of sunlight cut through the darkness, blinding me. A tall figure stood in the light. It was Ethan. Chapter 4 After the rescue, I didn’t leave the house for weeks. The betrayal, the kidnapping, the violation of those photos… it shattered me. My mind was hanging by a thread. During that dark time, Ethan—the cold, distant genius—stayed by my side. I had never seen him so gentle. It was like he could sense my fragility. He talked to me for hours, distracting me from the memories. I stayed in his private apartment. He handled my leave of absence from school. He kept the news from my parents so they wouldn’t worry. He used his connections to “handle” Jordan and his crew. He even managed to keep Hunter and Caleb away, ensuring no one disturbed my recovery. He protected me completely. His maturity and reliability made me open up. I became dependent on him. Finally, I couldn’t help it. I asked him, “Why… why are you being so good to me?” I remember that moment perfectly. Ethan was wearing comfortable loungewear, sitting next to me on the carpet. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing pale but strong arms. He spun a pen through his long fingers. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. His dark hair fell over his forehead, making him look softer, lazier. He looked at me with a tenderness that made my heart ache. He answered my question with a question. Smiling slightly, he asked, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” It felt like Cupid’s arrow hitting a bullseye. I fell dizzyingly into his rare, intoxicating warmth. I had no reason to say no. With his care, I slowly healed. I became cheerful again. Looking back now, it all feels like a dream. Ethan seemed cold, but he was possessive. While we were dating, he forced Hunter to stop putting his arm around me. He made Caleb watch his mouth. If I was even slightly uncomfortable, he fixed it. I was so happy I thought I was in love with him. I even daydreamed about what kind of wedding dress I’d wear to marry him. But he was faking it. It was all an act. Everything he gave me—was a lie. I will never forget that day. It was the first time I cooked a full meal. My hands were covered in cuts from the knife, and the kitchen was a disaster zone. But I made eighteen dishes. Because Ethan said he wanted a home-cooked meal for his birthday. The doorbell rang. I opened the door, expecting praise. Expecting a hug. Instead, I got laughter. Cruel, hysterical laughter. Caleb was holding his stomach, laughing so hard he couldn’t stand straight. Hunter was whistling, filming me with his phone—filming me in a stupid apron, holding a spatula, looking confused and pathetic. And Ethan. He leaned against the doorframe, a faint smile on his lips. He looked like a player who had just won the game and was enjoying the victory screen. “I didn’t know our wild Bella had such a domestic side. Hahaha…” “Good thing the bet was only for a month. If you kept this up, Ethan, she’d probably offer to have your babies! Hahaha.” “Ha. That was interesting. My turn next?” When Hunter said that, he paused. He looked at me. Then he shrugged and turned away, as if I didn’t matter. Smirking, he said, “Oops, she heard. Guess we need a new game for next time.”

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The world is just one big, hastily assembled stage, and everyone is faking it. And me? I’m shockingly mediocre. My dad is a Wall Street tycoon, yet I can barely do simple addition. My mom is an Oscar-winning actress, and I look like the definition of “plain.” My brother held his first solo art exhibition at age four, while at age five, I was still chasing him around drooling. Even our housekeeper, Mrs. Higgins, and our butler, Mr. Chen, were secretly retired legends in their fields. Luckily, they all spoiled me rotten. I eventually made peace with my mediocrity… Until one day, a viral “genius girl” showed up at our door, demanding I hand over my spot as the real heiress. Great. The other shoe I’ve been waiting for my whole life finally dropped. Chapter 1 I’ve always felt like an alien in this family. My dad, Richard Sterling, is a financial shark. My mom, Isabella Sterling, is an international movie star. But me? Average brain, average face. They say extremes breed opposites, and my brother, Ethan, is proof. He’s the complete package: launched his art career at four, joined MENSA at eight, and by fifteen was voted one of the “Top 10 Most Handsome Faces” globally. I wanted to be jealous. I wanted to crawl in the shadows and hiss. But in the end, I chose self-acceptance. After all, the gene pool can’t always produce winners. I was living my best “eat, sleep, do nothing” life. Until she showed up. The viral genius, Luna Davis. “The nurse at the hospital confessed on her deathbed! We were switched at birth. I am the true Miss Sterling!” “Look at you! You’re so… ordinary. How could you possibly be their daughter?” “Today, I’m taking back everything that belongs to me!” Luna stood alone in our foyer, but she had the energy of an entire army. Her confidence was so overwhelming that my whole family—no, me and the other family of three—fell into deep contemplation. My cold, distant Dad: “A switch?” My glamorous Mom: “How would I know? I was too busy counting stretch marks. Didn’t we hand the baby to Arthur?” My stoic brother, Ethan, stayed silent for three seconds before coldly dropping: “I was three.” Mom paused, then tried to deflect again. “But you loved holding the baby! You kept asking if you could share your ‘new toy’ with your little girlfriend, Nana.” “Nana wasn’t my girlfriend.” “But she called me ‘Mom’ every time she saw me…” I was sitting on pins and needles. Luna didn’t look too happy either. Seeing Mom and Ethan getting sidetracked, I stood up. “Dad, Mom, Ethan, look at my face. Then look at hers. Don’t we look more like a family?” I pointed at myself. I touched my painfully average face and nodded in agreement with Luna’s assessment. Growing up, Ethan got compliments like “Handsome,” “Striking,” “A carbon copy of Richard.” Me? I got: “She looks very… healthy.” Depressing. “And I’ve been a straight-A student my whole life! Top of the class! But from what I hear, she has always been at the bottom. She even bought her college degree!” Luna continued presenting her evidence. I lowered my head in shame. Since kindergarten, Ethan was always undeniably first. I was always indisputably last. One teacher didn’t believe I was hopeless and tried to tutor me privately. She ended up in the ICU with a stress-induced migraine. In her delirium, she held my hand and whispered: “What is the relationship between X and Y…?” I felt guilty. So, the night before the next exam, I stayed up all night memorizing the entire math textbook. The result? I became the first student in school history to fill the entire exam paper with correct formulas but get a score of zero because none of them applied to the questions. I went viral for a week. Thinking back on this, I looked at my parents and brother with a heavy heart. “Is it possible… that maybe you guys really are a family?” Dad fell into deep thought. Mom looked pensive. Ethan’s gaze turned heavy. Luna was still shouting: “Mom, Dad, don’t you believe me? I’ve been suffering out there for eighteen years! Now that I’m back, how can you not believe me?” Just as the atmosphere reached a boiling point, Mrs. Higgins, who had been standing in the shadows, spoke up. “Sir, Madam, Ethan, Miss Mia… actually, there is a technology called a DNA test.” Chapter 2 The DNA test process was smooth. The results would take a month. Luna wasn’t happy. She started arguing with the clinic staff. “Why do I have to wait a month?” “Because you have to wait in line like everyone else.” “Do you know who I am?” “A citizen.” “Who gave you the nerve to talk to me like that?” “The Constitution.” The clerk was deadpan. Luna was hopping mad. I was cringing so hard my toes curled. A crowd started to gather. I couldn’t watch anymore, so I went over and tugged her arm. “Let’s just wait. It’s only a month…” Luna shook me off. “Shut up! Of course you want to squat in my nest for another month! But I won’t give you the chance!” She grabbed the clerk’s lab coat. “I order you to get the results today, or face the consequences!” Chapter 3 The consequence was Luna getting a three-day detention for disturbing the peace. Three days later, she showed up at our door again. She demanded to move in, claiming she wanted to feel the “warmth of family” she had missed for years. Cold Dad: “Mrs. Higgins, prepare a room.” Luna cried tears of joy. “Mom and Dad have already accepted me in their hearts! This is wonderful. From now on, I’ll be by your side every day.” She shot me a provocative glare and announced loudly: “I’m going to make up for all the lost time!” I turned away, trying to keep a straight face. Make up for lost time? Since I can remember, I woke up every day in a 5,000-square-foot mansion and ate breakfast at a 20-foot-long table. The only consistent members of the household were Mrs. Higgins, Mr. Chen, Ethan (on weekends), and the two Dobermans in the yard. “Lonely, Cold, and Empty” were the tags of my childhood. As a teenager, my favorite hobby was looking up at the sky at a 45-degree angle, posting melancholic updates like “Money can’t buy love” on Instagram. That stopped the year Ethan screenshotted my posts, blew them up to poster size, and played them as a slideshow during Thanksgiving dinner. I didn’t want to relive that social death. I felt a pang of sympathy for Luna. Her dream was doomed. But my glamorous Mom laughed delightedly, clapping her hands. “That’s wonderful! I also want to make up for lost regrets! You’re so pretty; I’m going to dress you up like the most stunning princess!” Stunning princess? Ethan and I simultaneously took a step back. We looked at each other, wanted to speak, but decided against it. … “I have so many beautiful clothes that no one wears. Finally, I have a model!” “Mom, if you want, I’ll be your model forever!” “Really? Oh, you’re so sweet. I’m going to cry.” Luna was basking in the attention. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “Mom, didn’t you ever dress up… her?” “I guess not. Since she’s not your real daughter, you wouldn’t be as close…” “Just like those dogs outside. Only a real mother and child have that bond. Fakes can never be real!” Luna was waxing poetic. “Look at how the dogs lean on each other… it mirrors our family…” I couldn’t help it. “Rex and Buster are both male.” Luna froze. Me: “And they were neutered ten years ago.” Luna’s face went through a rainbow of colors. But soon, she recovered her smug expression. Mom excitedly dragged her upstairs. Before leaving, Luna gave me a victorious look. She didn’t notice the pity in my eyes. Good luck, girl. Chapter 4 Lunchtime. Four people at the table. Me, Ethan, Mom, and… Her. She looked like a walking explosion of dopamine dressing. A massive ballgown, heavy jewelry, and a towering hat. Not high fashion—just high. I looked at Luna, who was balancing an eight-layer cake decoration on her head and painted white like a Victorian ghost. My sympathy reached new heights. Growing up, Mom tried to turn me into a doll. But my mediocrity and laziness always defeated her. Ethan inherited Dad’s “death glare,” which shut Mom down instantly. Mom had suppressed her urge for years. Now, the dam had broken. I watched Luna, who couldn’t sit down because of her corset, trying to eat while standing. She tried to take a bite, and lead powder from her face fell into her soup. Ethan: “It’s not Christmas. Why is there a tree at the table?” Pfft. I laughed. Mom pouted. “Doesn’t she look beautiful? Like a doll…” Ethan: “Dolls don’t need to breathe. She looks like she’s about to pass out.” Mom looked guilty and checked on Luna. I don’t know what possessed Luna, but facing Mom’s concern, she forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “No, I’m fine.” “Don’t force it,” I advised kindly. She didn’t appreciate it. “You wouldn’t understand. A parent’s love is heavy like a mountain. This isn’t a burden; it’s the weight of their love!” As soon as she said “weight of love,” a crisp crack echoed in the room. Luna’s expression twisted. She started to shake. Finally, the weight of the eight-layer hat won. She toppled backward with a deafening crash. Chaos ensued. Indeed. Parental love is heavy as a mountain.

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After seven years of marriage, Harrison Sterling’s trophy wife finally got bored. She turned to leave, dropping only one sentence behind her: “Harrison, I’ve cashed out enough. As for you? I don’t want you anymore.” I watched from the sidelines, cold and detached, waiting to see how long Harrison would tolerate it this time. After all, this scene had played out constantly over the last three years. But this time, his laugh was freezing. “Just a pet. Does she really think I’d keep her in my heart?” That was until the news broke shortly after: a car crash. No survivors. The man who had always been made of ice and steel instantly went mad. 1 After Bella died, Harrison acted like a man possessed. He locked himself in his study, refusing food or water. I went to knock on the door. The only response was a cold, singular command: “Get out.” I knew he was grieving. I wanted to apologize. But I shut my mouth, realizing how pathetic that instinct was. We hadn’t divorced yet. He was the one who cheated. He was the one who strayed. Why should I be the one to say sorry? I looked at the cold dinner on the table. The soup I had simmered for five hours had congealed, a layer of grease hardening on top. It smelled faintly of rot. I scraped it all into the trash compactor. Just like our twenty-year history. If I didn’t throw it out now, it would only fester and breed maggots. Disgusting to me, and disgusting to everyone else. On the eighth day, Harrison finally emerged. He had cleaned himself up, shaved, and returned to that untouchable, high-and-mighty persona. But the way he looked at me was darker than ever before. As if the death of the woman he loved was my fault. I stared back calmly, waiting for the verdict. I knew a storm was coming. We had known each other for years, married for seven. From prep school uniforms to wedding gowns, I always thought we were walking the same path. But halfway through the journey, someone decided to get off the train. I was forced to accept it. “Where is she?” Harrison’s voice was dead, void of any emotion. After a long silence, I answered softly, “Buried.” Harrison’s face went black instantly. His eyes locked onto me with intense hatred. “Elena Vance, who gave you permission to bury her?” “With your dirty hands, do you think… you… deserve… to touch her?” He gritted his teeth, enunciating every word with ferocity. I could feel it. If I wasn’t pregnant right now, he would have rushed over to strangle me. But I overestimated my position in his heart. The next second, I was pinned against the sofa. A large hand tightened around my throat, squeezing the last bit of air from my lungs. The world spun. Darkness encroached on my vision. Sounds faded into a buzz. His tone was manic. “You think just because you’re pregnant, I can’t touch you?” “A bastard child. Do you really think I care?” “Bella is dead. Don’t worry. You and the little mongrel in your belly are next.” The terror of suffocation made me try to beg for help, but his grip was iron. I couldn’t make a sound. I realized then: Harrison really wanted me dead. I don’t know how much time passed before the weight lifted. A massive slam of the door followed. Consciousness slowly returned. I sat there, dazed, on the sofa. I picked up my phone and scheduled an appointment at the clinic. 2 Harrison and I were childhood sweethearts, but we were also a merger. Our parents finalized the business partnership when we were three. We signed the marriage license before we even graduated college. Life after the wedding was harmonious, even happy. maybe it was his upbringing, but Harrison was desensitized to everything. He didn’t know how to yield, how to love, or how to say sweet things. But back then, he would prepare small surprises. On my birthdays, he would bake a cake himself. Then, like a magic trick, he’d produce the necklace I’d been eyeing for months, hugging me tight. “Elena, I’m not heartless. Just give me some time. I’ll learn how to love you properly.” “Don’t give up on me, okay?” Every time he said that, I would nod vigorously, whispering that we had a lifetime. In the heat of the night, he would press close to my ear, whispering intimate things that made my heart race. When did it change? Maybe the day Harrison met Bella. I had been sick the day before, so I couldn’t make it to a scheduled event. He went alone. Bella was the client’s assistant. Fresh out of college, radiating nervousness. A shy smile. Harmless. Cute. She didn’t know how to play golf, so she boldly asked Harrison to teach her. They exchanged numbers. From meeting to making it official, it took less than two weeks. Bella quit her job and moved to his company. Harrison kept her by his side, teaching her everything, meticulously cultivating her like a rose waiting to bloom. The funny thing is, I never even got the chance to confront her. Harrison hid her well. I tried to investigate, but found nothing. Instead, I faced his rage the next day. Once, I paid a fortune to get Bella’s personal file. Before I could make a move, a dossier on my father’s mistresses landed on my desk. And not just my dad. Every dirty secret of the Vance family was there. Harrison’s warning was clear: If I touched Bella, my family’s reputation would be destroyed instantly. That night, I smashed everything in the villa. Harrison just sat on the sofa, watching me destroy the room with total indifference. He looked at me like I was the crazy one. The irony is… Now he’s the one who’s lost his mind. 3 That night, just as I fell asleep, his assistant called me. “Ms. Vance, the CEO is at the cemetery. He’s… he’s trying to dig up the grave. Please, come talk to him.” I laughed. I was the wife Harrison brought home, yet everyone called Bella “The Missus” and me “Ms. Vance.” Ever since I decided to divorce him and ghosted the appointment, Harrison had announced on social media: Bella is the only wife I will ever recognize. After that day, I became the laughingstock of Manhattan. My lips curled into a smile, though my neck still throbbed with pain. “Call the Sterling family. Don’t tell me. It has nothing to do with me.” I hung up. I didn’t think Harrison was capable of grave robbing. Since he got together with Bella, we talked about divorce more often than we ate dinner. It never happened. Either I refused, or Bella called him away with some emergency. The last time was two months ago. Harrison offered me half his assets to sign the papers. I agreed. But the day before we were to sign, I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t show up. Harrison blew up my phone that day. That was also the day Bella left. Harrison’s grandfather found out and talked to him all night. Harrison might ignore everyone else, but he respected the old man. The next day, Harrison recalled all his private investigators. He stopped searching the world for her. We stopped talking. No one mentioned divorce. I thought, even if he didn’t care about me, he would care about the heir. Now I see that trying to trap a man with a child was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever done. The next day, I went to the clinic. I’m not a saint. I didn’t want to be a single mother. I could accept not being loved, but my child deserved to be born into a whole family. The procedure was quick. I was discharged that afternoon. Now that the baby was gone, divorce was just a piece of paper. Harrison hadn’t shown up once. He was scouring the earth for his little lover. He refused to believe Bella was really dead. 4 Seven years of marriage. My belongings weren’t many, but they weren’t few. I hired some workers and set up a fire pit in the backyard. Everything that could burn, I burned. The jewelry and bags I sold. I didn’t want to take a single thread from this villa. I didn’t want to leave a trace. Might as well burn it all. When Harrison returned, he saw me throwing our wedding portrait into the fire. I was surprised. I hadn’t seen him in a month; I assumed he’d committed suicide out of grief. Through the smoke, his eyes were freezing. He looked at me like I was a corpse. He was holding an urn in his arms. As he passed me, Harrison suddenly reached out and shoved me hard. If the butler hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen face-first into the fire. A chill shot up from my feet. Harrison was insane. He wanted to disfigure me as revenge. Harrison clicked his tongue, sounding disappointed. “Clean this up.” He turned to go upstairs. A nameless fire erupted in my chest. Harrison keeping a mistress? I tolerated it. Threatening my family? I tolerated it. Bella’s provocations? I tolerated it. A drunken night that forced a pregnancy on me? I tolerated that too. I endured it all for three years. Now he openly wanted me dead. I was done enduring. If that’s how it is, let’s all burn. I chased after him, grabbed Harrison’s arm, and spun him around. I slapped him with everything I had. His head snapped to the side. He stared back at me, his gaze lethal. Seeing the red handprint on Harrison’s face gave me a thrill of satisfaction. “Tomorrow morning at nine. The courthouse. Divorce.” “Bella’s death isn’t my fault. Don’t pour your dirty water on me. You know how I got pregnant. The reason I didn’t show up for the divorce was because your mother took me to the family estate.” “And your little lover? Your mother ordered the burial personally because she couldn’t stand seeing you act like a ghost. Don’t pin your daddy issues on me.” Harrison didn’t react to my explanation. I didn’t care if he believed me. It had nothing to do with me anymore. I made myself clear. As I left the Sterling villa, I thought about the question Harrison used to ask. Have you ever tasted the pain of losing your soulmate? Soulmate? Hah. How did I answer him back then? Oh, I remember. I said: “Harrison, you’ve been dead to me for a long time.” When two people are in love, they can’t see anyone else. The old me couldn’t see Bella. The current Harrison couldn’t see me.

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During the dinner party, my mom and her “frenemy” were trading passive-aggressive barbs at the table. Meanwhile, in the coat closet, her son and I were locked in a different kind of battle. He was breathless, pinned against the wall by my kiss, begging for mercy: “Stop… my mom is going to catch us…” “God, you guys are so high-maintenance.” I took off my flannel shirt and tied it around his waist. “There. That hides it.” 1 My mom has a best friend named Diane Cole. After they both got married, the besties turned into “frenemies.” Diane has to compare everything with my mother. Since both families are well-off, they don’t care about jewelry or cars. They care about whose kid is winning life. Liam Cole is Diane’s son. Growing up, he was the introverted, stable, naturally gifted genius. I, on the other hand, was the loud, rebellious art student with a questionable GPA. Influenced by our mothers, Liam and I couldn’t stand each other. At every gathering, I played games on my phone. He ate silently or reviewed flashcards. The conversation between Mom and Diane always followed the same script: “My Liam got the highest AP scores in the state again. Next month he’s representing the school at the National Math Olympiad…” “Well, my Harper took first place in the National Contemporary Dance Finals.” As we got older, the competition shifted gears: “Sigh, Liam received another love letter last month. Thank god he’s so disciplined. Aside from his studies, he never gets too close to girls.” My mom laughed. “Diane, don’t suffocate the boy. It’s perfectly normal to have crushes at their age…” Diane didn’t agree. “Aren’t you worried about Harper getting distracted by boys?” I finished my round of Mobile Legends, looked up, and grinned. “Diane, what era are we living in? Honestly, dating at my age is considered a late start.” “Oh? But Harper is so pretty, surely she hasn’t started seeing someone already?” Just as Diane finished her sentence, Liam’s chopsticks—clack—hit the floor. My mom seized the opportunity. “Oh, tons of boys at school are chasing Harper. All art students. Pianists, drummers, jazz dancers… they all look like movie stars.” Diane scoffed. “So what if they look like stars? My Liam is handsome too.” My mom looked at Liam, opened her mouth, but couldn’t refute it. Diane was right. Liam was the face of our high school. He didn’t just win medals; he looked like an ice prince. Even the instructors in my dance studio talked about him. They praised his proportions, his aura, his features. They said if he ever joined a dance class, he’d be a star. Sure, the Art Department had plenty of hot guys. But they were trendy—dyed hair, ripped jeans, bending the dress code every chance they got. Liam, with his dark hair and crisp white shirts, was a breath of fresh air. His stock only went up, never down. Every time he walked past the arts wing, heads turned. Diane put a shrimp on my plate. “Harper, listen to me. Don’t date yet. I hear those artsy boys are players. They sleep around. Don’t waste your time on future unemployed actors…” Diane had stepped right on a landmine. I was a fangirl. I snapped back immediately. “Excuse me, Diane? Who says actors are players? My boyfriend is incredibly talented and successful! He got a perfect score on his SATs.” Liam’s face changed. His hand jerked, knocking over his water glass. He scrambled up, trying to stop the water spreading across the table, but it soaked his shirt and pants. Diane handed him napkins. “Good lord, why are you so clumsy today?” “Sorry. Diane, Margo… and…” Liam’s gaze landed on me. “Harper. Take your time eating. I’m going home to change.” I smirked at him. He ducked his head, grabbed his jacket, and practically ran out the door. Late that night, I got a text from Liam. Liam: [Can you teach me how to date?] I froze. I checked the profile pic and the handle three times. It was definitely Liam Cole. I typed a slow: [?] Liam: [If your boyfriend would mind, pretend I didn’t ask. Sorry.] I sat up straight, firing back three devil emojis. Me: [My boyfriend says he doesn’t mind.] I glanced at my iPad lock screen featuring Timothée Chalamet. Yeah, my “boyfriend” definitely didn’t mind. Hilarious. Liam actually believed my lie at dinner? In reality, I only liked three things: Chasing celebrities, binge-watching shows, and reading romance novels. I had zero energy for real dating. But being Liam Cole’s dating coach? That sounded fun. I tore open a bag of chips, ready for the tea. Me: [Dude, where’d you go? Don’t leave me hanging.] Liam: [No. Just thinking.] Me: [About what?] Liam: [The person I like has a boyfriend. But the internet says as long as they aren’t married, I still have a 50% chance. I… want to try.] My chip fell on the floor. I sent a voice memo: “Holy crap, Liam. You’re trying to be a homewrecker for love?” The nerd, Liam Cole, starting his villain arc? I’d sooner believe he was hacked. But he sent a voice memo back: “It’s only wrecking a home if they’re in love. If he isn’t as good as me, if he doesn’t know her like I do, why can’t I steal her?” It was late, so I used the speech-to-text feature. Reading the “her,” I paused. Me: [Bestie, I have to ask.] Liam: [Anything.] Me: [Is the person you like a guy or a girl?] Liam: […A girl. Harper, is your misunderstanding of me really that deep?] I sent a sticker of a cartoon character awkwardly twiddling its thumbs. Don’t blame me. Like his mom said, he never talks to girls. Brittany, the school’s prom queen and a total sweetheart, chased him for two years. He was an iceberg. She cried so hard her mascara ran. “It’s not just me! The cheer captain, the valedictorian—he rejected everyone. He only talks to guys. If he’s not gay, I’ll eat my ballet shoes.” Scary. Every girl who chased Liam ended up crying, convinced he just wasn’t into women. Liam sent two more messages. Liam: [I don’t have many girls in my contacts. You’re the only one I could think of. Will you help me?] It was rare for Liam to beg. Even rarer that he was begging me. I had to say yes. I don’t support homewrecking, but since the homewrecker is Liam… I figured I should help him minimize the damage. Me: [Send me her MBTI personality type ASAP. I’ll help you conquer her in a month!] Liam: [She’s an ENFP. bubbly, bright, confident, cute. She’s so pretty she looks intimidating.] I rolled around on my bed, laughing. Me: [Oh my god. Liam, you are down bad. Have you heard that introverts are just toys for extroverts? You’re doomed to be her puppy.] Liam, the king of concise texts, suddenly sent a sticker of a blushing dog covering its eyes with its ears. Liam: [Okay. Teach me. How do I become her puppy?] Uh. Why did the ice prince suddenly sound so… submissive? My smile froze. This contrast gave me a weird feeling I didn’t know how to handle. My screen went dark. The room was pitch black. I thumped my chest. My heart felt a little tight. I picked up the phone for the last message. Me: [It’s late. I need to sleep. It’s the weekend tomorrow. I’ll teach you when I wake up.] Liam switched back to his default factory settings. Liam: [Okay. Goodnight.] I stared at the screen. It was that switch in attitude! It made my mood swing up and down with it. I had insomnia until 3 AM, then sat up in bed, realizing something. “Genius! If Liam uses this hot-and-cold tactic on that girl—switching between eager puppy and cool detachment—she’ll lose her mind wondering about him.” I texted the idea to Liam. He didn’t reply. Probably asleep. 2 The next day, while I was using concealer to hide my dark circles, Liam texted. Liam: [Your advice worked. She texted me spontaneously at 3 AM.] My hand paused. 3 AM? Oh. That was when I texted him. He didn’t reply to me… so he was chatting with his goddess? Liam: [As a thank you, let me treat you to lunch today?] I thought about it and declined. Me: [Nah. If your crush sees us, it might ruin the progress you just made. I’ll just be your cyber-wingman.] Liam: [Okay. The strategist makes a good point.] I stretched, ready to order an iced Americano and rot in my room all day. My mom poked her head in. Full glam, new perfume, dressed like she was going to the Hamptons. “Baby, Diane just called. She invited us to lunch at her new beach house. Are you free?” “I am, but I don’t want to—” “I’ll buy you breakfast. Get changed. No rush.” Mom blew me a kiss. “My Harper looks so pretty today!” Looking at her bright smile, I swallowed my refusal. “Fine. Your baby chooses to spoil you today. I’ll go.” “Love you!” Mom hummed a tune as she went downstairs. I patted my face. “Diane, seriously? How many times a month do you need to see my mom? Are you enemies or soulmates?” We arrived at Diane’s new oceanfront property just in time for lunch. The sun was blazing. She had set up a long table in the garden. It was piled high with expensive seafood—my mom’s weakness. Mom swallowed, whispering viciously, “She just loves to show off! Look at that seafood… it looks so fresh.” “You made it! I was rushing so I didn’t prepare much, just steamed some catches.” Diane walked out holding a massive lobster. “Oof, this is heavy. Margo, come help me in the kitchen? I have a few dishes left.” Diane waved at my mom. My mom grumbled about “didn’t you hire a caterer?” but immediately trotted off with Diane. I found a swing chair in the garden and sat down, closing my eyes. The sun was brutal. “Didn’t sleep well?” “…” I opened my eyes. A hand was hovering over my forehead, blocking the glare. Liam stood backlit against the sun, his white shirt smelling like ocean breeze and laundry detergent. “No, I slept fine. You’re the one who probably didn’t sleep,” I smiled. “How’s it going with her?” “Feels like we’re talking past each other,” he said, pulling a patio umbrella over to shade me. “Just talking won’t work.” I looked at the shadow on the grass. “But given her situation, meeting up often might be…” “Scandalous?” Liam sat down next to me. “I know I look pathetic. But my feelings for her… day after day…” He looked quietly into my eyes. “They’re getting out of control.” “Then be direct. Go all in.” “How?” Liam chuckled at my intensity. “You’re an ENFP too. What kind of guys do you like?” My brain immediately summoned Timothée Chalamet. “Handsome, sincere, hardworking, tall, and he has to have a killer smile…” “Does your boyfriend meet all those criteria?” “Obviously!” I blurted it out, eyes crinkling with a smile. “That’s good.” Liam’s voice sounded a bit hoarse. He looked down, the sea breeze messing up his bangs. I looked at his perfect profile and paused. “You’re great too.” Liam curled his lip. “Who is better? Me or your boyfriend?” “…” I thought about it. Liam was rich, smart, classy, and objectively good-looking. But I stuck to my guns. “My boyfriend is still better.” The smile vanished from Liam’s face. “Why did you stop smiling?” I asked. “Born this way. Besides, I look ugly when I smile.” Me: “?” 3 For the next month, Liam seemed to have given up his villain arc. At school, he was back to his “no girls allowed” policy, only interested in textbooks. It was like the guy who wanted to be a homewrecker that night never existed. But one night, I got a notification. It was a screenshot of his mock exam scores and early acceptance letters to Ivy League schools. A second later, he unsent it. Liam: [Sorry, wrong chat.] Me: [I saw it. Congrats, genius.] Diane loved to brag about his grades, but Liam usually hated it. Self-promotion was out of character. I sent a smirk emoji. Me: [Wrong chat? Hehe. Meant to send that to your goddess?] Liam: [Yeah. She seems to care about that stuff.] Me: [Oh, look at you, Liam. Peacocking?] Liam: [Is it obvious?] Me: [Very.] Liam: [Do you think she’ll find it annoying?] Me: [If she hates show-offs, yes. But if she’s shallow and only likes pretty faces and abs…] I was typing the second paragraph when Liam dropped three selfies in the chat. My finger slipped, and I frantically hit save. By the time I got to the third one, Liam unsent all of them. Dammit! Why did he have to delete them so fast? I wanted to analyze the collarbone under the white shirt. I wanted to see the lean muscle definition. Liam’s “delete” button made it all vanish like a dream. Liam: [If I… occasionally send her normal selfies, would that be okay?] I rolled my eyes. Liam called those “normal”? Me: [You can send them. Condition: Don’t unsend them after five seconds. Give the girl some time to appreciate the art, okay?] Liam: [Okay. snicker.jpg] Why was he laughing? I stared at the sticker of the snickering dog, feeling frustrated. Me: [Resend that third “normal” selfie.] Liam: [No. I’m shy.] Liam: [It’s just abs. Doesn’t your boyfriend have them? smile.jpg] Me: … Well played, Liam. Another sleepless night for me. 4 The next day, I went to school looking like a zombie. My homeroom teacher intercepted me in the hall. “Have you decided on a college list?” “Yeah.” “Harper, I know for art students the GPA requirements are lower, but…” She hesitated. I knew what she meant. My math scores were tragic. “Your portfolio is strong. You have two months left. Let’s pull up those academic scores.” She patted my shoulder. “Good luck.” Walking out of the office, I yawned so wide I almost dislocated my jaw. I ran right into Liam. I covered my mouth with the back of my hand. He nodded politely. As he passed, I grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Morning, Liam.” “Morning. Something wrong?” He stopped. Even with the hallway crowded, he didn’t shake off my hand. I gave him my brightest, most dazzling smile. “It’s early. Want to grab breakfast?” “You haven’t eaten?” He paused, then turned toward the stairs. “Let’s go.” I hurried to catch up, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him. We’d known each other forever, but this was the first time we’d walked together openly at school. I followed the gaze of other students and looked at Liam. I was wearing a high ponytail, which brushed right against his ear level. “Liam, are you 6’1?” I asked randomly. “6’2.” “I’m 5’7.” “Okay. And?” He looked down, locking eyes with me. I blurted out, “How tall is your goddess? I heard a 15cm height difference is perfect for kissing without tiptoeing.” Liam’s lip quirked. “I can bend down.” The morning sun turned the tips of our ears red. He was backlit, glowing. The unattainable male lead from all those campus novels suddenly had a face. Some loudmouth from the Art Department shouted, “Holy crap, is that Harper with Liam Cole? Are you guys dating?” I waved my hands frantically. “No, I—” “No, I’m just accompanying Harper to breakfast,” Liam answered calmly. The art kids winked at me. “Got it. Nice work, Harper.” Liam gestured across the street. “Pumpkin porridge and potstickers?” At the shop, we sat across from each other. I scanned the QR code to pay before he could. “You’re my wingman,” Liam said. “I should treat you.” I grinned. “I need a favor.” Liam dropped his spoon. Soy milk splashed onto the table. “What do you need?” He grabbed a napkin. “Liam, can you tutor me in math?” “Tutor?” His hand froze. “Sure. When?” “Tonight? I’ll tell my mom to talk to yours. Come over for dinner.” I grabbed his hand and shook it. “Return the favor.” Liam’s hand tightened around the napkin. “Are you and your boyfriend long-distance? Can’t he help you?” “Huh? If you don’t want to, I’ll hire a college student…” “Study hall. After school.” “You won’t come to my house?” “No. Study hall.” “No way.” I slumped. “I need food to function…” Liam watched my dramatic sigh, barely suppressing a smile. “Fine. I’ll come to your house.” I was secretly thrilled. He suddenly leaned in. “How’s the grip?” “What grip?” I followed his gaze down. I was still holding his hand. Pale, long fingers, clean nails. Literally speaking… the grip was nice. I let go, patting his hand to cover my awkwardness. “It’s okay.” “Just okay?” Liam’s eyes darkened. “Then tell me, how should a hand be held to pass the test?” Nerd behavior. Even now, he was “studying.” Since he agreed to fix my math grade, I figured I’d teach him how to handle women. I laughed and interlaced my fingers with his, locking them tight. “This is the standard way.” Liam’s face exploded in red. I felt a weird satisfaction seeing him flustered. He took a few breaths. “That hurts.” “…” I let go. “I have a strong grip. Maybe your goddess is more delicate. Just practice.” His hand was red where I’d squeezed it. I frowned, afraid to look at his face. I was nervous, so I had squeezed too hard. “Is this how you hold your boyfriend’s hand?” Liam asked, flexing his fingers. I pouted. “So what if I do?” “Harper,” Liam said seriously. “Maybe you should practice too. That didn’t feel like holding hands. It felt like an interrogation technique.” “…Fine.” I grabbed his hand again. Looking at our locked hands on the table, Liam’s mouth curved into a barely visible smile.

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1 During the peak of my social anxiety, I played mute in the bed of New York’s crown prince. No matter how hard he worked, I grit my teeth and didn’t make a sound. That is, until his “white moonlight”—the one who got away—returned to the States, and he wired me a $5 million severance package. In my excitement, I blurted out: “Thanks, boss! You’re the man!” I covered my mouth in horror, but the man just laughed in disbelief. “My little mute… don’t tell me I just performed a medical miracle?” Being a mute canary had its perks. No need for flattery outside the bedroom. No need to scream “Daddy, you’re amazing” inside the bedroom. The only downside was— I couldn’t curse when I was pissed off. Like right now. Ethan Sterling noticed my mind wandering. His hands gripped my waist. He flipped me over with brute force. Biting and gnawing. Fierce enough to tear the flesh off and swallow it whole. Ahhh, you dog! I screamed internally. On the outside, however, I was pathetic. Eyes red, tears falling plip-plop. Finding leverage in the rocking motion. Wrapping my arms around his neck. Rubbing my cheek against his, begging for mercy. Based on experience. As long as I made this face. Ethan would wrap things up quickly. But tonight, he was possessed. He went through one ultra-thin wrapper after another. From the bed to the bathroom to the sofa. Until midnight. Only then did he hold me, satisfied, and carry me back to bed. I was exhausted. But thinking about what was coming next. Sleep vanished instantly. This afternoon, one of Ethan’s buddies came over. The study door wasn’t closed tight. Bits of conversation drifted out. “Jenny is coming back tomorrow. Are you sending a car, or picking her up yourself?” “Is ‘Jenny’ something you’re allowed to call her?” Ethan’s voice was freezing. The friend quickly corrected himself. “Okay, okay, I’m not worthy. That’s your exclusive pet name…” It was begging for mercy, but mostly teasing. Everyone in the circle knew Ethan Sterling had a “white moonlight” he couldn’t forget. He protected her well. People knew she existed. But no one knew her full name or what she looked like. Why they weren’t together remained a mystery. Once, bored, I helped Ethan organize his study. I saw a yellowing photo. The girl wore a hat, facing sideways. The only visible half of her face. Looked eighty percent like mine. My mind flashed back to the first time I met Ethan. I was standing by the curb, on my phone. A car pulled up in front of me. I didn’t look closely, thought it was my Uber. Opened the door, sat right in. When you’re out in the world, you give yourself your own identity. As a socially anxious person, to avoid small talk with drivers. Every time I got in a car, I pulled out my prepared scrolling text. [I am mute. Please do not speak to me.] The moment I shoved my phone in his face. I realized the driver was a cold, noble, devastatingly handsome man. Handsome enough that a car used for Uber. Looked like a luxury ride I couldn’t afford under his aura. He looked at my screen again and again. Stunned for a long time, before asking in a husky voice where I was going. 2 Seeing the photo, it all made sense. Ethan’s loss of composure back then. Wasn’t because I got in the wrong car. He didn’t kick me out. Not because of my fake disability. But because I looked like his lost love. Silence filled the office for a second before the conversation resumed. “What about the one at home?” “She’s timid, and a mute. Probably can’t be seen in public…” I didn’t listen to the rest. I turned and left. If I didn’t leave, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. I would have laughed out loud right there. Three years! Three whole years! I played mute for three years! Finally, the breakup is here! I was too excited to sleep. I turned my back to Ethan. Unlocked my phone, tapped into the “Canary Support Group.” I got pulled in by an enthusiastic girl in a VIP lounge while accompanying Ethan to a dinner once. The ultimate goal of every member was to secure a sky-high breakup fee. Financial freedom, retire early. I couldn’t resist sharing. [Ethan Sterling’s white moonlight is coming back!] The message bombed the night owls awake. [Ahhh, congrats Shu!] [Take it, take it! My sugar daddy’s white moonlight is supposedly studying in Germany…] [Envious of you sisters, mine doesn’t have a white moonlight (lifeless version)] After a wave of envy, Chloe @ me curiously. [Mr. Sterling is so rich and generous to you, the breakup fee must be huge, right?] Ethan had always been generous. Fifty thousand a month in allowance. Bags and jewelry every other day. Occasionally, on a whim, luxury cars and houses. I didn’t take the cars or houses. I’m poor! I can’t afford the maintenance on a Ferrari! Or the property tax on a mansion! Hard to take with me, selling them requires dealing with agents… Just thinking about it made my social anxiety spike. So my only hope for wealth was Ethan’s cash breakup fee. A few million? Or ten million? The more I thought, the more excited I got, twisting into a pretzel on the bed. The next second, the man dragged me back into his arms. “Not tired?” His burning body pressed against mine again. I pushed him away with hands and feet in panic. Clasped my hands under my cheek. Signaling sleep, immediately! “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport to pick up someone very important to me.” I snapped my eyes open. Ethan asked, pretending to be casual: “Do you… want to come?” I was dumbfounded. Who? Me? Asking if I want to come? The substitute picking up the original? Are you trying to give her a heart attack on the spot? I shook my head violently. Ethan looked at me steadily. “Fine… you’re timid. Wait until you want to meet her.” Ethan always indulged me. When we first got together, he offered to get me a job. After I refused, he never brought it up again. As a shut-in with social anxiety. This life of not working. Food appearing when I opened my mouth, clothes handed to me. I was actually a little reluctant to leave. My mood dipped uncontrollably. Just then, my phone vibrated. A text notification from the bank. “I probably won’t be back tomorrow night. Might not have time for you the next couple of days.” “Take this money. Buy whatever you like…” I ignored Ethan. Staring at my phone screen with glowing eyes. Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, hundred thousands, millions… 3 I rubbed my eyes. Counted again, back and forth. It was eight figures! Ethan gave me a thirty million dollar breakup fee! Thirty million! A poor person suddenly rich. Money rushed to my head. In my excitement, I blurted out: “Thanks, boss! You’re the man!” “…” Eyes met. The atmosphere froze instantly. Fck!* Too happy, forgot I was a mute! I mean, how can a person be so polite? After realizing the stupid thing I did. I covered my mouth guiltily. My waist went soft, body sliding down. Burying myself entirely under the covers. The next instant, I was hoisted up by the scruff of my neck. “Little mute.” The girl he pampered for three years suddenly wasn’t mute. Ethan laughed in anger. “Don’t tell me I just performed a medical miracle?” Haha. That dry joke wasn’t funny at all. Nowhere to hide. To block his burning gaze scanning my body. I had to cover my face tightly with my hands. “Little mute, speak.” I shook my head, voice muffled. “Mutes can’t speak.” “…” Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. Looking at the girl whose face was red. Wishing she could disappear. He was helpless. “Don’t you have anything to say?” I bit my lip, confused. Yes, I played mute and tricked him. I offer no defense. And the money is already in my account. What else is there to say? I have nothing to say! But clearly, I had to say something right now. Change of strategy. Think about what Ethan wants to hear, loves to hear. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off. “Brother…” Ethan’s breath hitched. As a woman of culture. I desperately recalled the literature I’d read. Those indescribable romance novels. Picking and choosing, finally finding a sentence I could say. “Brother is so big… so great, I like it so much…” I stammered the praise. Worried, I moved two fingers from my eyes. Peeked at Ethan’s expression. Brows raised, mouth relaxed. Seemed not angry? Playing mute to escape worked for so long, but I couldn’t hide forever. Luckily, tonight was my last night as a canary. I racked my brain, searching my inventory. “Brother was so amazing tonight, like you took pills or something.” Ethan’s face went black instantly. “What did you say? Say it again?” I swallowed. What was wrong with that? Maybe he doesn’t like “Brother”? Right, Ethan is older. He doesn’t get the “Oppa/Brother” kink. Heart pounding like a drum. I gathered my courage and repeated: “Daddy was so amazing tonight…” The rest of the words never made it out. Swallowed by a sticky, entangled kiss. The man grabbed my hands, which I didn’t know where to place. Moving lower and lower. Ethan’s dark eyes glowed green in the dim sconce light. “Little mute, say it again.” 4 Dawn was breaking. The man was excited, like he’d opened the door to a new world. I buried my sweaty head in the pillow. Thinking dizzily. Good thing I was smart enough to play mute for three years. Otherwise, I definitely would have died in this bed! Woke up in the afternoon. Whole body aching. After screaming all night, my throat was so hoarse I couldn’t speak. Now I really was mute. Dragging my legs like prosthetics downstairs. Auntie Wang saw me. Nodded a greeting, turned to the kitchen to bring warm porridge. After doing this, like a house elf. She vanished silently. Ethan knew I didn’t like interacting with strangers. So he instructed everyone from the start. Anyone coming in or out had to lower their presence. Very friendly to the socially anxious. The more I thought about it, the more I felt Ethan was actually pretty good. Rich, handsome, gentle when needed. Rough when needed. The only flaw was. He had another woman in his heart. “Sigh…” I was melancholy for three seconds. My hand inadvertently tapped the transfer record of thirty million. Seemed like… maybe… I didn’t love him that much. My heart is too small, it only fits money. As for Ethan? Fine, for the sake of him being a good guy. I’ll help him out! Thinking this. I lay back on the bed with a clear conscience. Opened a novel on my shelf. Chapter One: The White Moonlight Returns. Perfect, just what I needed. Time to study. Half an hour later. I was enraged by the male and female leads who refused to communicate. Exited the novel expressionless. Opened WeChat, sent a “cat peeking” sticker to Ethan. Ethan replied instantly. “Awake? Auntie Wang kept the porridge warm. Eat something good tonight, don’t just snack.” “Still hurt? Feeling better?” Ahhhhhh! A capable man asks if you’re tired. A super capable man asks if it hurts, if you’re okay. I buried myself in the quilt, kicking my legs. Took a while before I replied coolly. “Mn.” Ethan didn’t reply instantly this time. Probably busy. I took the opportunity to share the articles I found. Don’t Miss the Her Beside You. Words Are Cheap, Actions Are Gold. Thirty Tips for Wooing Girls: Give Her What She Likes. … Sent about ten links, then happily opened my game. Played for two hours. Checked messages, realized Ethan had replied long ago. “Received.” What does “Received” mean? Wrong chat? Thought it was work? Next second, I got a call from Ethan’s assistant. went downstairs confused to open the door. He pulled out a black card and handed it to me. “Ms. Wen, this is the supplementary card Mr. Sterling asked me to bring you.” My eyes widened like fried eggs. “For… for me?” Assistant He, usually tense as a robot, crumbled in that instant. “Ms. Wen, you… aren’t you mute?” We stared at each other. I seemed to have… forgotten to tell him the truth. Awkward. Burned the elite’s CPU. After listening to the explanation, Assistant He pushed up his glasses. Brain rebooting. “Apologies, I was ignorant.” I pursed my lips, changing the subject in embarrassment. “Heard Mr. Sterling is picking up someone important this afternoon?” Assistant He nodded. “Yes, Ms. Wen. Are you going too?” The substitute picking up the white moonlight. Are you straight men crazy? I laughed dryly. “That’s not appropriate, is it?” Assistant He thought of something. Corrected himself: “It is a bit sudden. Better to be mentally prepared before meeting.” What is going on… Can I just not meet this white moonlight? I immediately steered away. “Ethan is so busy, did you help him prepare flowers, gifts, a welcome dinner for tonight?” “Ms. Wen need not worry. Mr. Sterling arranged that last month.” Arranged last month…

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