It wasn’t until Chloe, the scholarship student, showed up that I realized I was just a placeholder princess. But my father didn’t know that. So, at a business gala, he announced loudly, “Anya, tell Daddy who you like. Bring him over, and I’ll welcome my new son-in-law today!” The entire ballroom turned to look at the three wealthy heirs who had once been my closest friends, my protectors. But the three of them acted as if they hadn’t heard a thing. One was feeding Chloe a piece of cake. Another was making her laugh. The third was watching her with an expression of pure, tender adoration. The silence was thick with awkwardness. My father’s face stiffened. “Dad,” I said quickly, “my boyfriend is studying abroad. I’ll bring him to meet you when he’s back.” The three of them shot me a look of pure scorn. I knew they didn’t believe me. They thought I was just trying to save face. But the truth was, I really did have a boyfriend. 1 The next time I visited their homes, it was to deliver my wedding invitations. I was having tea with Mrs. Hayes when Liam, her son, came downstairs. “Liam, darling,” she called out. “We were just talking about Anya’s wedding—” Liam, every inch the domineering CEO, shot me a glare. “Anya, who said anything about marrying you? Don’t use my mother to pressure me. I’ve told you I’m not interested. Get it through your head.” He stormed out of the house without another word. Mrs. Hayes sighed. “That boy only ever hears half of a conversation. Who said you were marrying him?” She looked at me apologetically. “Anya, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into Liam. He used to adore you. He and the other two were always fighting over who could be nicer to you. I used to think he’d have to fight them off if he wanted to be my son-in-law, but now…” I just smiled and shook my head. “It’s fine. You can’t force a connection that isn’t there. Well, I should get going.” “Of course, dear. We’ll be at your wedding.” 2 From the Hayes’ estate, I went to the Thorne residence. As the maid was showing me in, Ethan was just ending a call. The moment he saw me, a smirk touched his lips. “Liam just called,” he said, walking towards me. “Said you tried to force a marriage proposal at his house and now you’re trying your luck with me?” He put on his usual mask of gentle civility. “Anya, I thought we made it clear at the gala. We’re not interested in you. We’re not going to marry you. You should stop this.” I just smiled and nodded. “Which is why I’m here to deliver my wedding invitation.” He froze for a second, then that mocking smile returned. “Let me guess. You’re pulling the same stunt your father did, hoping to corner one of us at the altar so we’ll have to play along to avoid a scene? Anya, haven’t you learned your lesson? We don’t like you. And we won’t do anything that might make Chloe misunderstand. You won’t be able to invent another fake boyfriend to save yourself this time.” I shook my head, about to speak, but his phone rang again. His entire demeanor softened when he saw the caller ID. “Hey, Chloe… Okay, I’ll be right there.” He hung up and shot me a look that said, You’re on your own, before brushing past me and leaving. It seemed that because of my father’s stunt at the gala, they were utterly convinced I was trying to trap one of them into marriage. Fine. They’d find out the truth soon enough. Mrs. Thorne came out then, greeting me warmly and accepting the invitation. “My Ethan just doesn’t know how lucky he could have been,” she sighed. I was delivering the invitations myself because, despite the fractured friendship with the three of them, their parents had always been incredibly kind to me. After my mother died and my father threw himself into his work, I had spent my childhood rotating between their three homes. I would never forget the warmth and love they had shown me. Just then, I saw a new post on Chloe’s social media—a picture of the four of them at an amusement park. Perfect. That meant I could go to the third house without any interruptions. 3 I was sitting with Mrs. Monroe when I said, “The wedding is next month—” “Mom, how could you arrange a marriage between me and Anya without asking me? This is my girlfriend, Chloe!” Noah Monroe stormed in, pulling Chloe by the hand. “Mom, I know we used to play house and you all joked about me marrying Anya, but we were just kids. We’re adults now. You have to respect my choice!” Mrs. Monroe was stunned. “Noah, that’s not—” But Noah, never one for patience, was already glaring at me. “Anya, can you just stop chasing us? Do you really think getting our parents to pressure us is going to work? Can’t you see how much we can’t stand you right now? How we’re trying to get away from you?” “Noah!” Mrs. Monroe snapped, her voice sharp. But he wasn’t listening. “I love Chloe, and I will never, ever marry Anya. So you can all just wait for a wedding that’s never going to happen!” He grabbed Chloe’s hand and dragged her out. Mrs. Monroe sighed heavily. “He’s not even interested in Anya. Where does he get the confidence to think she’d want to marry him?” I just shrugged with a small smile. “He probably dislikes me so much right now he can’t be bothered to listen to anything I say. It’s fine. They’ll all understand eventually.” 4 When I left the Monroe mansion, all four of them—Liam, Ethan, Noah, and Chloe—were waiting outside. Remembering how much they supposedly despised me, I decided to ignore them and walk away. “Anya!” Chloe ran up and grabbed my arm. “Don’t misunderstand. Noah was just pretending I was his girlfriend to get you to back off.” “Chloe, why are you even talking to her? I’m doing this to get rid of her,” Noah called out impatiently. “Noah, don’t be like that. We’re all friends. I only met you guys because of Anya. I miss the days when the five of us used to hang out together,” Chloe said sweetly. “Anya, please don’t be mad at everyone. I really want us all to be friends again.” As she spoke, her nails dug sharply into my arm. I hissed in pain and pulled my arm away. “Ah!” She stumbled backward as if I had shoved her with all my might. “Chloe!” The three of them rushed to her side, their faces etched with concern. “Anya! Chloe is being so nice to you, and you push her? Have you no conscience?” Noah yelled. Ethan’s face was cold. “Chloe has been trying to get you to rejoin our group, but it seems you’re just not worthy.” “Apologize to Chloe right now, Anya!” Liam commanded, his voice low and dangerous. Chloe leaned against Liam, looking fragile and hurt, but her eyes, when they met mine, were filled with a familiar, triumphant malice. I brushed off my arm and gave them a cold look. “I’m so terrible. Why would I ever apologize to her? If you just keep her away from me, she won’t get hurt. Problem solved.” I turned and walked away. “Anya, if you don’t learn to be kind to Chloe, then there’s nothing left between us!” Liam’s cold voice followed me. A bitter smile touched my lips. Since Chloe had appeared, had there ever been anything left between us to begin with? 5 That evening, Mrs. Hayes asked me to deliver some medication to her at their vacation villa in the suburbs. But when I got there, only Liam, Ethan, and Noah were there. It turned out our parents had tricked all of us. And our cars were gone. There was no way to get back to the city tonight. On the phone, Mrs. Hayes said she hoped that by being in this place, a place filled with so many childhood memories, we would reconcile and become friends again. Noah scoffed. “What a waste of time. I wonder if Chloe needs us for anything.” His words made Liam and Ethan frown with worry. I agreed it was a waste of time, but looking around the familiar villa, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. I walked over to the grand piano that had been sitting in the corner for over a decade. I remembered the four of us, eight clumsy hands trying to play a duet. Noah was always the troublemaker, and we would end up bickering and laughing while our parents watched, taking countless pictures of us at this very piano. “Chloe started taking piano lessons. Look, I took a video of her.” Noah pulled out his phone. Liam and Ethan immediately crowded around to watch. The sound of hesitant, clumsy notes filled the air, followed by Chloe’s sweet voice. They watched, completely engrossed, their faces lit up with smiles. I stepped outside onto the patio. The lights illuminated the swimming pool. I remembered the summer they’d had a contest to see who could hold their breath the longest. I was so young, I thought they were drowning. I jumped in, screaming, to “save” them. “Liam! Ethan! Noah! Don’t worry, I’m coming!” Of course, I was the one who ended up swallowing half the pool. They all had to work together to pull me out, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “Our little Anya. So cute and so clumsy. We’ll have to protect you forever.” The words echoed in my ears. And they had. They had protected me my entire life. They shielded me from every danger, took me for ice cream, took me on adventures… The air around me seemed to shimmer with the ghosts of our laughter. But then, a real voice shattered the illusion. “Chloe, don’t be scared! We’re coming to get you right now!” Liam was on the phone with her, his voice frantic. “There’s a thunderstorm in the city, and Chloe’s terrified. We have to go to her!” He turned to the other two, who looked just as panicked. They rushed out of the villa, looking around wildly. “There are no cars!” “I don’t care. I’m not waiting. I’m running back!” Noah gritted his teeth and started sprinting into the darkness. The other two were right behind him. “Wait,” I called out. 6 Noah spun around and glared at me. “Anya, Chloe is crying her eyes out and you’re trying to stop us because you’re jealous?” Liam and Ethan shot me equally annoyed looks. My face was impassive. “By the time you run all the way back, the storm will be over and she’ll have already been scared.” “Then what are we supposed to do? We can’t just wait here!” Noah seethed, ready to run again. Ethan, the more rational of the three, stopped him. “Let’s call someone to pick us up, and in the meantime, we’ll look for another way to get back.” They started searching the villa grounds with their phone flashlights. We knew every inch of this place from all the games of hide-and-seek we had played as kids. “There’s an old utility vehicle over here,” I said, shining my light on a dusty three-wheeled vehicle in the corner of the garage. They rushed over. After a bit of effort, they managed to get it started. Liam got in the driver’s seat. Ethan and Noah squeezed into the back. It was a tight fit. There was no room for a third person. They all hesitated, looking at me. I shrugged. “I never planned on going back with you anyway. Go ahead.” “Anya—” Ethan started. My voice was cool. “Chloe’s probably terrified.” That was all it took. Their concern for me evaporated. “Anya, we’ll send someone back for you,” Liam said, and then he was gone, the little vehicle sputtering off into the night, carrying them towards the girl they cared about. And with them disappeared twenty years of memories. “Goodbye, my old friends,” I whispered to the darkness. Just then, a sleek black car pulled up. The man who got out had come straight from the airport. I ran to him with a smile and threw myself into his arms.

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The moment my brother-in-law died in my bed, everyone saw it. As atonement, my husband divorced me and married my adopted sister. My brother transferred all my shares and assets to her, turning Cora into a dazzling celebrity. They sent me to a psychiatric hospital to “protect” me from prison. When the statute of limitations passed, they came for me. My husband and brother draped a coat over my shoulders, their eyes tender. “Elara, it’s over now. I’m here.” But reporters swarmed. “Why did you seduce your brother-in-law and cause his death?” “Was forging psychiatric records to avoid jail fair to the victim?” I couldn’t hear them clearly — the electroshock treatments left a permanent ring in my ears. Only when a fan threw red paint on me did I snap back. “You ruined Cora’s life! Why don’t you just die!” I stood frozen. But they were the ones who dislocated my jaw to silence me, who fabricated evidence and tortured me for years — all to hide the truth: Cora was the real murderer. … Slowly, I raised a hand and wiped the filthy paint from my eyes. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even look at them. I simply turned and started walking away from the crowd. “Elara?” My brother’s voice, laced with a faint, surprised edge, came from behind me. “Where are you going?” Adrian, my ex-husband, quickly moved to block my path, his brow furrowed. “Elara, we’re taking you home. Stop making a scene.” I stopped and finally met their eyes. “Home?” “What home? Marcus,” I said, looking at my brother, “didn’t you sign over all my assets and company shares to Cora? What home do I have left?” My brother’s face went rigid. I looked at Adrian, who was still gripping my arm, and a small, cold smile touched my lips. “Oh, I almost forgot. Congratulations to you and Cora. I hope you’ll be very happy together.” “And next time you get married, there’s no need to be so secretive. You two were sneaking around right under my nose for years. A little wedding shouldn’t be a cause for shame.” “Elara!” Adrian’s face darkened. “Do you have to talk like that?” My brother, Marcus, was furious. He reached for me. “What is that supposed to mean? After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you repay us?” In the chaos, the fan who’d thrown the paint lunged at me again, her face twisted with hate. “You bitch! How dare you talk to Cora’s brother and husband like that! I’ll kill you!” This time, Adrian and Marcus actually intervened, holding her back. Adrian looked at me, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “Elara, look what you’ve done. Must you escalate everything? Can’t you just speak to us properly?” Speak properly? The absurdity of it was almost laughable. “I’m escalating things?” “What did I do wrong? She’s the murderer! You took her side, threw me into that asylum, and ruined my life without a second thought! And now you expect me to be grateful to my own executioners?” “Shut up!” Marcus snarled. “What murderer? Cora is the kindest person I know. Stop slandering her! You were jealous of her, jealous that Leo loved her, and you couldn’t stand it.” “We sent you for treatment, not to prison. That was our mercy. Don’t be so ungrateful!” Adrian sighed again. “Elara, calm down. I know you’re hurt. But marrying Cora… it was a temporary measure.” “She fell into a severe depression after Leo’s death. I’m staying by her side to take care of her, to atone for your sin on your behalf!” “Once she’s fully recovered, I’ll divorce her and we’ll get back together. We’ll never be apart again!” Smack. I summoned every last bit of my strength and slapped him across the face. His head snapped to the side, the red imprint of my hand already blooming on his cheek. He was stunned, clearly having never imagined I would strike him. Marcus was just as shocked. “Elara, are you insane?!” My voice trembled. “Start over?” “Adrian, you make me sick.” “Go live your life with your precious Cora. You two deserve each other. A scumbag and a snake, a match made in heaven. Count me out.” My brother’s face was purple with rage. He pointed a finger at me. “Elara, I’m giving you one last chance. Get on your knees right now and apologize to Adrian and Cora! If you don’t, you are no longer my sister! We’ll see how you survive in this city then!” Just then, a sleek, black town car pulled up. The door opened, and Cora, assisted by her publicist, stepped out gracefully. “Marcus, Adrian, don’t talk to my sister like that.” The moment they saw her, their anger melted away. They rushed to her side. “Cora, what are you doing out of the car? It’s chaos here, go back inside!” Marcus urged. “He’s right, Cora, you’re not well. You shouldn’t be here,” Adrian added, wrapping a protective arm around her. The way they coddled her, so gentle and careful, was a knife in my eye. There was a time they had treated me like that, like something precious. When a senior had cornered me in high school, Marcus had swung his backpack and taken on all three of them, getting his face bruised and bloodied but still managing a goofy grin. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll protect you.” Adrian had quietly handled the fallout, using his family’s influence to ruin the boy’s father and force them to move away. He’d been whipped for it, the scars still on his back, but he never said a word to me. The clearer the memories, the more grotesque the present seemed. Seeing that no one was paying attention to me, the fans rushed forward again, grabbing my hair and slamming me to the ground. “Tear up that pretty face of hers!” “Murderer! I’m doing society a favor!” Five years had taught me how to take a beating. I curled into a ball, protecting my head and my heart. Through the blurry, shaking world, I saw Adrian whispering something to Cora, the line of his jaw softer than I had ever seen it. Marcus just glanced in my direction with a look of pure disgust. Cora, as if just noticing the assault, cried out, “Stop!” She pushed through the fans and reached down for me. “Sister, are you alright?” But as she tried to pull me up, her nails dug cruelly into a wound on my arm. I let out a muffled groan of pain. She snatched her hand back as if burned, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sister! I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to help you.” My brother strode over and kicked me hard in the ribs. I rolled across the pavement, my vision going black at the edges. “When are you going to stop hurting Cora?!” he roared. He knelt, yanking my head back by my hair. “Stop pretending! Cora barely touched you and you act like you’re dying. Are you trying to pull the same stunt you did when you took credit for her saving me? Using your pathetic tricks to frame her and ruin her career?” “I’m telling you, Elara, Cora has a good heart and she might worry about your lies, but I don’t! If you ever try to pull your disgusting tricks on her again, I’ll make sure you rot in that asylum for the rest of your life! Do you understand me?!” “That’s enough!” Adrian’s voice cut through the air. He grabbed Marcus’s wrist. “She’s still your sister.” “Sister? She doesn’t deserve the title!” Marcus ripped his arm away. “The moment she stole my supplies and left me for dead in that ravine to save herself, I only had one sister. And her name is Cora.” Adrian looked from my enraged brother to my crumpled form on the ground and let out a long sigh. He took off his own suit jacket and stiffly draped it over me. Then he turned and walked back to Cora. “I’m taking Cora to the hospital for a check-up. She got a scare, she’s been pale ever since.” Cora immediately leaned into him, her voice weak. “Adrian, my stomach hurts.” “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there right now.” He scooped her up into his arms. He didn’t look back at me once. Marcus shot me one last look of disgust and snapped at the remaining security guards, “Clean this up. And don’t let any of this trash near Cora’s car again.” Then he hurried after Adrian. “See? Nobody wants you,” the lead fan sneered, squatting down to pat my swollen cheek. “Weren’t you so tough a minute ago? Go on, kill me, murderer!” Another girl knelt and ripped the jacket off me. “You think you deserve to wear something this nice?” “Strip her! The bitch doesn’t deserve clothes!” someone shrieked, and the others cheered. My body screamed in protest as I tried to move, but I was helpless. I could only watch as their hands tore at my already tattered hospital gown. I tried to fight back, my voice a weak, hoarse whisper. A sharp slap across the face silenced me. “Cora is kind,” the fan hissed, grabbing my chin. “But we’re not.” They dragged me into a more secluded alleyway. One of them pulled a tube of super glue from her purse. “Since she likes to seduce men so much, let’s make sure that mouth of hers never opens again. And those pretty eyes, too.” I struggled, but it only earned me more blows. One of the bodyguards, watching from a distance, finally pulled out his phone. “Mr. Evans? Miss Elara is… being targeted by Miss Cora’s fans. What are your instructions?” “Do I have to be bothered with every little thing?” Marcus’s impatient voice came through the phone. “I told you to keep the trash away from the car. The rest is not my concern.” Then, Adrian’s tense voice cut in. “Stop wasting time with irrelevant people. Cora’s heart rate is elevated, go find a doctor.” There was a rustle, then Adrian’s voice, cold and clear. “Keep an eye on the scene. Don’t let it get out of hand, and make sure no one gets any footage that could hurt Cora. As for the rest… just make sure she doesn’t die.” The line went dead. The fans burst out laughing. “Did you hear that? ‘Just make sure she doesn’t die!’” “What are we waiting for, girls? We’ve got a green light from the big boss!” The crowd eventually dispersed. No one called an ambulance. No one helped me up. I was left there like a piece of trash. I pushed myself up from the pavement, gritting my teeth against the pain. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to a number I knew by heart. [I’m in. Name your price. I just want them dead.] I waited, my heart pounding. The owner of this number had first contacted me during my fourth year in the asylum. I had been too afraid to accept then, too afraid to gamble on a stranger. I had promised my parents I would survive. Then, a photo came through. It was a picture of me, unconscious, while Cora and the others arranged Leo’s body next to mine. [The evidence is ready. See you on the red carpet. 8 p.m. tonight.] A sense of calm settled over me. I wanted to tell my parents the good news. After all, I was the last thing they worried about before they died. I had just managed to stand when two iron grips clamped down on my arms. It was Marcus’s bodyguards. They dragged me back to his villa and forced me to my knees on the cold, rough stone patio. “Miss,” one of them said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Mr. Evans says Miss Cora’s pregnancy is unstable. He requires you to kneel here and pray for her. This is your punishment.” “Unstable pregnancy? What does that have to do with me?” The ropes they used to bind me only tightened as I struggled. The night grew colder. My knees went from screaming in pain to a dull, throbbing numbness. Just before dawn, Adrian and Marcus returned. “Adrian, what are you waiting for?” Marcus’s voice was a low growl. “We can use Elara as a stand-in for Cora tonight, make her kneel for Leo’s mother. But what about after that? The woman is a lunatic! We can just hand Elara over. They look so much alike, and the old hag is crazy enough not to notice the difference.” Adrian yanked at his tie, his voice tight with frustration. “Enough. I’ll handle it. If necessary…” He didn’t finish, but I had already taken a step back, a twig snapping under my foot. “Who’s there?” Marcus spun around. Our eyes met. The air was dead silent. I tried to run, but my bound hands and numb legs sent me stumbling. Adrian was on me in a second, his hand clamping down on my shoulder. “Since you heard, we have no choice. Cora’s red carpet event tonight is too important. There can be no mistakes. So, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to take one for the team.” He dislocated my jaw with a practiced, casual movement. “You should be used to a little humiliation by now. I promise, after this is over, I’ll divorce Cora and be with you.” He waved a hand, and two bodyguards dragged me to a car. At the Croft mansion, Leo’s mother sat on the sofa, cradling a portrait of her son, humming a soft, broken lullaby. The television was playing a live feed of Cora, arm-in-arm with Adrian, dazzling on the red carpet. Mrs. Croft’s humming stopped. Her eyes fixed on the screen. A guttural scream ripped from her throat. “Why? Why does the person who killed you get to smile like that, while my son lies in the cold, hard ground?” One of the bodyguards shoved me forward. Mrs. Croft’s head snapped towards me. She lunged, her hands like talons at my throat. “You! You killed my son!” She snatched a fruit knife from the table and aimed it straight at my heart. “Die! All of you, just die!”

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1 The night before our wedding, Jayce took me to an immersive mystery game. It was there, hidden in the shadows of a hallway, that I overheard him talking to his friends. “Jayce, man, are you really going to drug Sienna tonight? I hear those guys you hired are animals. What if they break her?” Jayce’s voice was heavy with a sigh. “I don’t have a choice. Cathy’s been raising hell. I have to give her something.” The others erupted in a chorus of lewd jeers. “Dude, why hire strangers? A job like this, we’d be happy to handle for you.” “Yeah, for real. You’re not gonna share a goddess like Sienna? Let your boys have a taste.” “Exactly! We’re your friends, we’d know how to handle her. Enough to give Cathy her satisfaction, but… heh heh heh.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just smiled, accepted the scandalous costume Jayce had picked for me, and deliberately drank the tainted wine he offered. The next day, the wedding didn’t just make headlines. It blew them up. … I had only stepped away to use the restroom. On my way back, I heard my own name. “Jayce, man, are you seriously going to drug Sienna? I heard the players you found are rough. No restraint. The wedding is in two days, aren’t you worried they’ll actually hurt her?” A short silence, then Jayce’s weary voice drifted through the door. “So what if they do? I’m still marrying her.” “Cathy’s been a mess, crying nonstop, her eyes are all swollen. You guys know how she gets. She thinks Sienna coming back stole everything from her. She won’t calm down until she gets some payback.” “I promised I wouldn’t touch Sienna. This is how I make it up to Cathy, how I give her peace of mind.” The cold wall was the only thing keeping me from collapsing. Peace of mind? He was going to use my body, my dignity, to give Cathy peace of mind? “True,” someone mused, his voice dropping lower. “If that country girl Sienna hadn’t shown up out of nowhere, you and Cathy would be the ones getting married. You two grew up together… I bet you’ve already done everything, right?” “But seriously, Jayce, why bring in outsiders? This is the kind of fun we could have. Keep it in the family, you know?” The suggestion was met with a wave of rowdy laughter. “He’s right! Sienna’s body, that face… she’s a masterpiece. If you’re willing to let her be played with, you should let your friends be the first to sample the goods.” “Yeah, man! We’re your crew. We’d know the limits. We’ll make sure the video is satisfying enough for Cathy, but we won’t cause any real trouble. Heh heh heh.” The filthy words slithered through the crack in the door, coiling in my ears. Two years ago, he was the one who claimed it was love at first sight, that everything was finally falling into place. I bit my lip so hard the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. Just then, a phone rang. Cathy’s sickly-sweet voice dripped through the speaker. “Jayce, darling, I’m almost there! You promised you’d play Sienna’s little video at the wedding, okay? You can’t go back on your word.” Jayce’s tone was dripping with indulgence. “Don’t worry, princess. Have I ever broken a promise to you? Just wait for the show.” Someone whistled. “Whoa, so this whole crazy idea was yours, Cathy? Playing this hard… damn, girl. That’s next level.” Cathy’s voice on the phone was smug. “Hmph. Of course. You try to steal my man, you pay the price. I want her to know that even if she marries into the Harrison family, she’ll never be able to hold her head high again.” The call ended, followed by a burst of unrestrained, mocking laughter. “Seriously though, Jayce? You’re really not going to touch her after the wedding? What a waste of a perfect body.” Jayce paused. “Of course not. She’s dirty.” So that was it. The loving gazes, the gentle promises—all of it was just poison wrapped in a sugar-sweet shell. But why? It was Cathy who had stolen my life, who had basked in the love of my parents for twenty years. And now she acted as if I were the thief, willing to destroy me in the most vile, despicable way imaginable. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play, then let them choke on their own poison. I shoved down the storm raging inside me, smoothed my expression into one of serene innocence, and pushed the door open. The room fell silent. Jayce walked over to me. “Sienna, darling. This is for your character. You’ll look stunning in it.” He handed me the so-called costume. It was as sheer as a whisper. The neckline plunged nearly to my navel, and the skirt was so short it barely covered the tops of my thighs. My lips curved into a brilliant smile. “Of course. If you picked it, I’m sure it’s perfect.” When I pulled back the dressing room curtain and stepped out, the air in the room seemed to freeze. Several pairs of sticky, greedy eyes latched onto my body. “Holy hell, Jayce… you’re a generous man!” “Cathy, your sister… she’s unreal. Like she was born to play this part.” “Damn, Jayce. You’re one lucky bastard. Got all of us feeling… heh heh.” The smile on Jayce’s face faltered for a second, his eyes flashing with a complex mix of shock, annoyance, and even… a possessive glint. He closed the distance between us in a few quick strides, pulling me against him as if to shield me from their leering gazes. “Alright, that’s enough. Settle down. She’s shy, don’t scare her.” Before, I would have mistaken that for protectiveness. Now I knew it was nothing more than a charade, the primal instinct of a male protecting his territory. “Ooooh, listen to him! Getting all defensive!” someone crowed, sparking another round of laughter. Jayce shot them a warning glare that finally shut them up. Just then, Cathy approached, a glass of red wine in her hand, her face a perfect mask of concern. “Sienna, you grew up in the country, right? You probably haven’t played an immersive game like this before. You might be nervous. Why don’t you have some wine to help you get into character? I picked this vintage myself.” She raised the glass. “Think of it as an early wedding gift from your little sister. Here’s to you and Jayce, and a hundred years of happiness.” A celebration? Celebrating what? My ruin? She tilted her chin up slightly, a flicker of contempt and superiority in her eyes that she didn’t quite manage to hide. Twenty years of living my life had made her believe she was entitled to it. The marriage pact had been between the Scotts and the Harrisons for a generation; my return had thrown a wrench in her plans to marry Jayce. I remembered how, after our families announced that I would be the one to marry him, she had taken me aside, her voice full of false sincerity. “Jayce is a wonderful man, Sienna. You’ll be so happy with him.” “I’ll be your maid of honor! We’ll make sure you have the most beautiful wedding ever.” “And if he ever mistreats you, you just tell me. I’ll always have your back.” It was all an act. A carefully constructed lie designed to set me up for the most devastating blow. When I didn’t take the glass, the hand Jayce had on my waist tightened. “Cathy went to a lot of trouble for this. Don’t be rude. Be a good girl and drink it.” His voice was soft, but it held the hard edge of a command. I slowly lifted my eyes to meet Cathy’s—so innocent on the surface, so venomous underneath—and smiled, a smile brighter and sharper than hers. “Thank you, Cathy. You’re too kind.” Without a moment’s hesitation, I drained the glass. “The taste… is unforgettable.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, then turned the empty glass upside down, showing it to her with a little flourish. Cathy seemed stunned by my compliance, the triumphant joy in her eyes practically overflowing. “I’m so glad you like it, sister. Well, I should go get ready myself.” She turned and walked away, her steps light and eager. I swayed, staggering backward as if my body was no longer my own. The men in the room watched me, their stares growing more brazen, like wolves circling a lamb ready for slaughter. Jayce’s voice cut through the haze, laced with the perfect amount of concern. “Sienna? Are you okay? Maybe I should take you to a room to lie down.” I clutched my chest, opened my mouth to speak, but instead, I choked, and a splatter of dark blood hit the floor. Jayce’s arm around me went rigid. “What the hell?” The leers on the other men’s faces froze. “What’s happening? Why is she spitting up blood?” “She’s so pale… this doesn’t look like she’s faking.” “Jayce, man… maybe this isn’t a game anymore. We should get her to a hospital.” By then, I was foaming at the mouth, my body convulsing on the floor. A staff member walked in with props and screamed. “Something’s wrong! Somebody call 911! Manager, we need help!” The last thing I saw before darkness consumed me was Jayce, his face a mask of panic, scooping me into his arms and running. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled my nose, and I knew I was in the hospital. “Her vital signs have stabilized. It was an acute reaction to a neurotoxin. You got her here just in time for a stomach pump, so she should be fine. We’ll keep her for 24-hour observation, and then she can be discharged.” Jayce’s voice, tight with confusion, cut through the quiet. “A neurotoxin? Are you sure? What kind?” My heart clenched instinctively. “We’re not sure yet, but it acts fast, causing rapid nerve damage. It’s a good thing you brought her in when you did.” After the doctor left, the men started talking in hushed, anxious tones. “Jayce, I thought it was just a sedative. How did it turn into poison?” “Yeah, this was supposed to be a prank. We can’t have a death on our hands.” “Cathy gave her the wine, right? Maybe she swapped the drug without telling you? That’s… that’s insane.” “Enough! Shut up!” Jayce snapped, his voice raw. “Cathy would never do something like that. She can be a brat, but she’s kind. She wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I prepared that drink for Sienna myself. It was just a simple sleeping pill. How could it turn into poison?!” I never imagined he would take the fall to protect Cathy. As if trying to convince himself, he continued, his words tumbling out faster and faster. “Maybe… maybe Sienna has some underlying health condition. Or she ate something earlier that reacted with it. It has to be a coincidence.” The faster he spoke, the more it seemed like he could bury the truth under a mountain of denial. “Cathy is innocent. She just wanted to teach Sienna a lesson, to make her understand who the real daughter of the Scott family is. To stop her from dreaming about things that belong to Cathy. She would never use poison.” Wouldn’t hurt a fly? The same girl who concocted a plan to have me drugged and assaulted on video was, in his eyes, a pure, innocent angel. The truth was, the wine had only contained a sedative. The real poison was a powder I’d coated on my hand, which I transferred to my lips when I wiped my mouth. I had gambled, certain that Jayce and his pack of hyenas wouldn’t dare let things escalate to murder, especially with staff around. It was a risky move, and it hadn’t yielded the result I wanted. Jayce’s selfish, twisted logic left his friends speechless. After a few awkward glances, they quietly filed out of the room. He walked to my bedside, looming over me for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. The exhaustion and the lingering effects of the drugs pulled me back under. When I opened my eyes again, the room was empty. I was just about to get up to use the restroom when I heard voices coming from inside it. It was Cathy. “Jayce, what are you waiting for? She’s lying right there. The wedding is in less than 24 hours. This is our last chance.” “Can’t you see it? This whole poisoning thing was an act. She staged it to make you feel sorry for her, to keep you here by her side.” “I’ve already called the guys. They’re on their way. They can come in, make the video, and ruin her face while they’re at it. I want her left so broken she’ll be rotting in the gutter!” A cold dread washed over me, chilling me to the bone. Cathy was so unhinged she was going to attack me in the hospital. This time, she wanted me disfigured. After a tense silence, Jayce’s low voice finally answered. “Cathy, calm down.” “This is a hospital, not some private room at a game lounge. There are nurses in the hallway, security cameras everywhere. What if someone walks in? What if she wakes up and calls the police?” “I don’t care!” Cathy’s voice rose, cracking with hysteria. “I want her gone! I want her ruined!” “Why did she have to come back? Why did she have to steal my parents, and you?!” “Jayce, you’re feeling sorry for her, aren’t you? You see her lying there all pathetic, and you’re getting soft. You’re falling in love with her, aren’t you?!” “That’s ridiculous!” Jayce cut her off, his tone sharp and absolute. “How could I ever fall for a woman who grew up in the sticks?” He took a deep breath, his voice shifting to one of gentle persuasion. “Cathy, listen to me. I’m worried about you. You can’t risk getting caught over someone so worthless.” “I have a better idea. It’s completely safe, just as devastating, and it will leave her with no way to defend herself.” Every nerve in my body went taut. I had a terrible feeling about what was coming next. Jayce lowered his voice even further. “We can hire someone, dress them in her clothes. We’ll shoot from the right angles, get all the footage we need.” “As for the face… we can blur it just enough. But the body type, the clothes, even the birthmark on her back—we can fake all of it perfectly.” “We’ll play that video at the wedding. Her reputation will be destroyed. She’ll never set foot in our world again. And you, Cathy, will remain the one and only pristine daughter of the Scott family.” Cathy hesitated. “But… that’s letting her off too easy. I want her to really suffer, to really be…” “Cathy!” Jayce interrupted her again, a rare note of command in his voice. “Trust me. This is the smartest way. I don’t want you taking any risks. Think about your family. Think about our future.” That last phrase, “our future,” was like a tranquilizer dart, hitting the one thing Cathy cared about most. She finally relented. “Okay, Jayce. I’ll do whatever you say.” Then came the sounds of rustling clothes and soft, eager gasps. I closed my eyes just as they were stepping out of the bathroom. A short while later, my parents, alerted by Cathy, rushed into the room. “Sienna, my darling, what happened? You scared your mother to death,” my mother said, her voice trembling. “Yes, Cathy told us you were in the hospital. The wedding is tomorrow! What’s going on?” my father added. I answered weakly, my voice a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know… I just felt so sick after Cathy gave me that glass of wine…” Cathy stood frozen, her eyes red, fumbling for an explanation. “Sienna… I didn’t…” “Sienna!” Jayce cut in, grabbing my hand. “The doctor said you must have eaten something that had a bad reaction with the alcohol. It had nothing to do with the wine.” My mother patted my other hand. “It must have just been a coincidence, dear. Your sister is always telling us how wonderful you are. She would never do anything to hurt you.” My father’s eyes held a glint of disdain. “We raised Cathy. We know her. She is a sweet, considerate girl. Don’t you bring your backwoods drama and jealousy in here.” His words struck me like a physical blow, reminding me of the day I first returned home. They had wept then, telling me how much they owed me, how they would spend the rest of their lives making it up to me. They gave me the largest bedroom, presented me with twenty years’ worth of birthday presents. I had believed them. I had wanted, so desperately, to build a real relationship with Cathy. But every single time something came between us, they chose her. I knew now that they always would. And I no longer needed them to choose me. Catching the triumphant look in Cathy’s eyes, I pulled my hand away. “I’m a little tired.” After they left, deep in the night, the door to my room creaked open. Two figures in orderly uniforms slipped inside. Before I could react, a cloth was clamped over my mouth and nose, the acrid smell flooding my senses. “Hurry up, Miss Scott is waiting!” At the mention of her name, I stopped fighting. Soon, I was in the back of a van, being driven to a derelict warehouse. Cathy was there, flanked by three men whose leering eyes crawled over my unconscious form. She looked down at me, her voice dripping with contempt. “Sienna. How can I ever feel at peace if you don’t experience true suffering?” She turned to the men. “She’s all yours. Just dump her back at the hotel entrance by noon tomorrow.” “And make sure you get some good, clear shots. I want the whole world to see what kind of trash the real Scott family daughter is!” As Cathy’s laughter echoed out of the warehouse, the three men descended on me like starving wolves. Just as one of them, a man with greasy yellow hair, reached for the collar of my shirt, my eyes snapped open. He saw that I was awake, saw my lips moving without a sound. Thinking I was too terrified to speak, his grin widened. “Well, look who’s up. I was worried you’d be a dead fish. This is much more fun.” “Heh heh, little beauty. Your big brothers are going to take good care of you today. The louder you scream, the better.” “What are you two idiots waiting for? If you’re not gonna go first, then watch me. I can’t wait any longer.” The moment his hand touched my chest, his eyes went wide with terror. “Agh! What is that?!” His bloodcurdling scream made the other two drop their cigarettes. They stared, frozen in place, as a dozen glistening centipedes swarmed up the first man’s arm, their bites sending him writhing and screaming on the filthy floor. As the silent syllables continued to fall from my lips, the warehouse filled with a rustling, skittering sound. From every dark corner, a tide of venomous creatures poured forth—spiders, scorpions, and insects of every nightmarish shape and size. “Bugs! So many bugs!” “Run! These things are poisonous!” The other two turned to flee, but their path was blocked by two enormous vipers, their heads raised, ready to strike. The three men shrieked in terror, frantically swatting at the creatures crawling all over them, their skin instantly erupting in swollen, red welts as they cried for their mothers. I rose slowly from the floor. “Enjoy your new toys,” I said, my voice finally audible. “Just don’t kill them.” I whispered the ancient words of my people, and the swarm surged with renewed purpose. Without a backward glance at the three men rolling in agony on the ground, I walked out of the crumbling warehouse. A discreet black car was waiting outside. I slipped into the back seat. “Atasha,” the driver said in greeting. “Take me home. Back to the Mistwood.”

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I was an innocent man on death row. My wife Nina, the city’s top defense attorney, ignored nine pleas for help. The first time, she held a press conference to comfort her bullied junior while I was beaten by inmates. The second time, she withdrew my defense to answer his sobbing call, leaving me on the stand. Every time hope appeared, her junior had an “emergency.” This was my final chance before execution. But on the phone, his voice whispered, “Nina, you can’t be distracted during a birthday wish.” She hung up. The proof of my innocence was undeniable, but without her to present it, the judge signed my death warrant. When the guard gave me the verdict, I thought the red stamp meant life in prison. Instead, he said: “Execution confirmed. Your lawyer said there’s no need to notify her about the body.” So I died. What I don’t understand is why, after my execution, Nina was the one who went insane. 1 Today is Ryan’s birthday. The lights in the execution chamber were a brilliant, piercing white. Nina is probably cutting his cake right now, isn’t she? In the final second before my consciousness faded, I thought I could hear the sound of my own heart stopping. The Julian Croft who had once loved Nina Hayes with every fiber of his being was finally, truly dead. When I opened my eyes again, I was floating in mid-air. Below me was the city’s most luxurious riverside restaurant. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights glittered like a fallen constellation. Inside, a single candle flickered with intimate warmth. Nina was wearing the designer suit I had always ironed for her, not a single crease on it. She was gazing tenderly at the man across from her. Ryan had his hands clasped, his eyes closed as he made a wish. It was a picture so perfect, I could have painted it from memory even in the darkest corners of my prison cell. How ironic. My body was growing cold in a crematorium miles away, while my wife was here, helping another man make a birthday wish. Ryan opened his eyes, a boyish, innocent smile curving his lips. “I made my wish, Nina! Now you have to help me make it come true.” Nina poured him a glass of red wine, her voice dripping with affection. “Of course. Anything you want, Ryan. Anything.” Her phone, resting on the table, vibrated. The screen lit up with a text message notification from the prison. I drifted closer, wanting to see if she would even look. Just one glance. Just a flicker of emotion as she read the words: Execution completed. Nina frowned, her long, elegant fingers swiping across the screen. She deleted it. Without even opening it. “What’s wrong, Nina? Who was that?” Ryan asked, leaning over with a look of pure innocence. Nina placed her phone face down on the table, her tone dismissive. “Junk text. Nothing important.” Junk text. So that’s what the final message of my life was to her. Junk. “Was it… was it Julian?” Ryan asked, biting his lower lip as his eyes instantly reddened, looking like a startled fawn. “It’s my birthday… Is he still mad at me for taking you away? Maybe… maybe we should go check on him?” He looked exactly as he had in the courtroom that day, crying as he testified that I had “pushed him down the stairs.” He had wept then, too, saying he didn’t blame me, that my obsessive love for Nina had just made me lose control. And Nina, just like now, had instantly hardened her expression, her heart aching for him as she took his hand in hers. “Why bring up that murderer?” Nina said, cutting a piece of cake with a strawberry on top and holding it to Ryan’s lips. “He killed an innocent janitor and put you in the hospital to have a kidney removed. A man that vicious deserves to rot in a cell.” “This is your special day. Let’s not let someone so foul ruin the mood.” I looked at that piece of cake and felt a wave of nausea. Ghosts don’t have stomachs. But I still wanted to vomit. So, in her heart, I wasn’t just a murderer. I was foul. Nina, did you know? Just ten minutes ago, that foul man you refused to help for the ninth and final time ceased to exist. 2 Nina took Ryan back to our home. The home I had decorated with so much care, only for it to be usurped by him after I was imprisoned. In the entryway, where our wedding portrait used to hang, there was now an abstract painting. One of Ryan’s, I presumed. The slippers by the door were gray and fuzzy. Ryan’s size. Nina slipped them on with practiced ease, hanging Ryan’s coat on the rack. The movements were so natural, so fluid, you would think they were the ones who had been married for years. “Nina… can you… can you stay with me tonight?” Ryan asked, tugging on her sleeve with wide, timid eyes. “That threatening letter Julian sent me… I still get scared when I think about it.” I floated near the ceiling, watching coldly. A threatening letter? In prison, I could barely get my hands on a pen and paper. The only letters I ever wrote were desperate pleas to Nina for help. How had they become threatening letters to him? Nina’s face darkened. She ruffled his hair gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. He can’t hurt you.” “But… what if he gets out? He was sentenced to life with parole, right? He could be out in twenty years if he behaves…” Ryan flinched. Nina scoffed, unwrapping a silk scarf from her neck and tossing it onto the sofa. “Get out? He’s never getting out.” She walked to the liquor cabinet, poured a glass of whiskey, and downed it in one go. “He had a sliver of a chance, but then he had to go after you and get an innocent person killed.” “As the only witness at the scene, I submitted a supplementary statement to the judge. I insisted that I saw him push that janitor with my own eyes before shoving you down the stairs.” “Even though it was dark and I didn’t see everything clearly, I had to say it. For you, and for the person who died. For justice.” Ryan asked cautiously, “What about… what about that air-conditioner repairman? The one who said he saw something different. Is that a problem?” “It’s not a problem. I buried his testimony so deep no one will ever believe him,” Nina said, swirling the ice in her glass. “That was the ninth time he tried to ‘find evidence’ to force my hand. All lies. He’ll never change.” “I needed him to know that my patience has limits. If he wants to live, he needs to behave himself in there and stop dreaming about getting out and causing trouble.” I looked at her, so arrogant, so certain in her absolute control, and I wanted to laugh. Nina, you’re the best criminal defense attorney in the city. You’ve never lost a case. But you lost this one. You lost your husband’s life. And there’s no coming back from that. Ryan seemed to relax, wrapping his arms around Nina from behind and resting his cheek against her back. “You’re so good to me, Nina. If only Julian were half as reasonable as you.” “Him?” Nina sneered. “If he were reasonable, he wouldn’t have killed someone just to force me to stay married to him.” I floated in front of her, swinging a phantom fist at her face. It passed right through. But I still screamed the words. “I DIDN’T PUSH ANYONE! HE PUSHED THE JANITOR HIMSELF TO FRAME ME! HE THREW HIMSELF DOWN THE STAIRS!” No one could hear my roars. Nina just shivered, frowning as she turned up the thermostat. “Why is it suddenly so cold in here?” Ryan tightened his arms around her. “Maybe Julian’s thinking about you.” “He doesn’t have the right,” Nina said, putting down her glass, her eyes full of disgust. “He’s been quiet the last few days, though. No more calls from the prison guards. I guess my last warning finally scared him.” “In a few days, I’ll pay a visit to the prison.” Ryan’s body tensed. “Why would you go see him?” “To have him sign the divorce papers,” Nina’s voice was like ice. “Having a murderer for a husband is a stain on my reputation that I’ve tolerated for far too long.” Divorce papers? No need, Nina. A death certificate is far more effective. It automatically dissolves all legal ties between us. Cleanly. Completely. 3 For the next three days, Nina’s life was perfect. She took Ryan to an art gallery, to a fancy Japanese restaurant, and even went shopping for a men’s watch with him. I followed her like a shadow, a numb specter watching her hand over the future she had once promised me to another man, piece by piece. It wasn’t until the afternoon of the third day, while Nina was in a meeting at her law firm, that her assistant, Alex, knocked frantically on the door. “Nina, there’s… a package was returned from the prison.” Nina didn’t even look up from the documents in her hand. “So? If it was returned, it was returned. Do you really need to interrupt my meeting for something so trivial?” “No, Nina, it’s… the package is for you. And…” Alex hesitated, his forehead beaded with cold sweat. Nina snapped the folder shut, annoyed. “And what? What is Julian up to now? A hunger strike? A letter written in his own blood? More of his clipped fingernails?” A few quiet chuckles rippled through the conference room. The other partners all knew about Nina’s “crazy” husband and the extreme lengths he went to in order to win her back. Alex swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “Nina, you should really come see for yourself. The courier says it requires your signature in person.” Nina stood up, her face a cold mask, and strode out of the room on her sharp heels. “Let’s see what kind of pathetic drama he’s cooked up this time.” I floated behind her, a strange, dark pleasure blooming in my chest. No drama, Nina. Just dust. In the firm’s lobby stood a uniformed courier, holding a square, heavy-looking black box. Any adult would recognize its shape immediately. But Nina didn’t go there. Or rather, her subconscious refused to. “Ms. Nina Hayes?” the courier asked, checking his clipboard. “This is an expedited delivery from the Southside Crematorium. The sender is listed as ‘Julian Croft (by proxy).’ I need your signature, please.” Crematorium. The word dropped into the bustling lobby like a stone, and all sound ceased. Nina’s confident stride came to an abrupt halt. She stared at the black box, her expression shifting from disdain to disbelief, finally settling into a mask of absurd fury. “Crematorium?” “Hah!” She laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. She marched over and grabbed the courier by his collar. “How much did Julian pay you? Huh? To help him with this ridiculous stunt?” “He’s so desperate to see me he’s pulling this kind of sick joke now?” “Mailing his own goddamn urn?” “Why didn’t he just burn himself alive and mail the whole package?!” The courier, terrified, struggled against her grip. “Ma’am, let go! I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know any Julian Croft!” “This is an official shipment from the crematorium!” “Unclaimed remains are sent to the next of kin if they can be contacted!” “Next of kin? I’m not his next of kin!” Nina roared, her eyes blazing. “I was his lawyer! Not his undertaker!” “But you’re listed as his emergency contact in the system…” the courier stammered, on the verge of tears. “Get out!” Nina shoved him hard. The courier stumbled back, losing his grip on the black box. It hit the marble floor with a dull thud. Enraged at the sight of it, Nina lifted her sharp-heeled shoe and kicked it. “Bastard. Just looking at this thing is bad luck.” The lid popped off. Ashes spilled across the floor. Inside, there was also a sealed velvet bag. Next to it, a neatly folded piece of paper slid out. It was a certificate of cremation. Nina stared at the mess on the floor, her chest heaving. She pointed a trembling finger at the box, her voice still laced with venom. “Julian. You’ve really outdone yourself.” “Forging official documents! Again! The forged critical condition notice wasn’t enough, now you’re faking cremation certificates?!” She whirled on her assistant. “Alex, call the police! Right now! I want Julian Croft dragged out of that prison! I’m suing him for public disturbance! I’ll make sure they add years to his sentence!” I floated beside the velvet bag, looking at what was left of me. All I felt was a profound, hollow sorrow. Nina. It’s real. That’s me. Why… why won’t you believe it?

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The moment I started dating my professor’s son, I enacted a new policy: the son pays for the father’s sins. When his dad humiliated me in a group meeting, I cussed him out. When his dad rejected my paper, I took it out on him. When his dad tried to make me look like a fool in class, I made sure he couldn’t get out of bed. This continued until my advisor introduced me to his star pupil. With his help, my experiments and my paper finally began to sing in harmony. I was in such a good mood, I didn’t have time to discipline Leo anymore. I never expected him to corner me in the lab, his eyes red-rimmed. “So that’s why you haven’t been calling me, Sienna,” he said, his voice trembling. “It’s because you found yourself a new… lab siren.” 1 I’m a grad student, which is just a fancy way of saying I’m perpetually miserable. To make matters worse, my advisor is the notoriously demanding Professor Karl Harrison. The rumor among the senior students was simple: “Choose Professor Harrison, choose death.” I figured it would be a quick and clean execution. Instead, it was death by a thousand cuts from a dull knife—slow, bloodless, and soul-crushing. My first draft had just been rejected for the third time. His comments were enough to make you want to jump off a bridge: “The abstract is excellent. A true masterpiece of brain removal.” “I asked for a first draft, not a rough draft scribbled on a napkin.” “In the future, please submit something a living person can read. This is just demonic.” In the cafeteria, I found myself stabbing at a piece of potato on my plate. My life felt just like it—stewed into an unrecognizable mush. Then, a guy sat down at the table across from me. A devastatingly handsome guy with a textured crop cut and pale, cool skin. My eyes lit up. This was not the kind of face you find among us lab rats. We were a species defined by greasy hair, glasses, and the permanent gray pallor of sleep deprivation. He sat down and started scrolling through his phone. His messy bangs partially hid his brow bone, highlighting the straight, sharp line of his nose. I shuffled over and slid into the seat directly opposite him. “Well hello there,” I said. “You new? Haven’t seen you around.” He looked up, and his amber eyes shot straight into my heart. 2 The handsome stranger said he was a jock from the university next door, here to meet someone he knew. A slow smile spread across my face. An athlete. Perfect. All brawn, no brains. What a refreshingly uncomplicated creature! Nothing like my fossil of an advisor, who couldn’t string ten words together without eight of them being insults and the other two being a dry chuckle. Right now, a boy radiating this much raw, youthful energy was exactly what I needed. “What’s your name?” I asked, propping my chin on my hand. “Leo,” he said with a slight smile, revealing two perfect canine teeth. “Great name,” I purred, my eyes tracing the lines of his face. “Sounds like the name of my next boyfriend.” Leo froze for a second. Then, a deep blush crept up from the base of his neck, flooding his entire face. A sweet, shy freshman was no match for a shameless predator of a senior like me. The result was inevitable. Three days to hold hands, five to start making out, and a week to devour him completely. A boy new to the game is an energetic one. But he was also an incredibly attentive and eager-to-please partner. His damp eyes would gaze up at me, pleading. The soft brush of his hair against my inner thigh, his breath hot and ragged, sent shivers through me again and again. “Sienna… like this?” “Sienna, look at me.” “Sienna, you’re so beautiful.” I lost myself completely in his worship. And I may have gotten a little carried away. 3 The next morning, my alarm had gone off three times before I shot up in bed, my head throbbing. The Archdemon’s lecture. Being late meant an automatic deduction from my final grade. “Shit, shit, shit!” I scrambled out of bed, my legs giving way as I nearly collapsed. My hands fumbled frantically on the floor, searching for my clothes. Leo was lying on his side, propped up on an elbow. The blanket had slipped down to his waist, revealing a landscape of flawless muscle. “Sienna? Are you going to be late?” “What do you think?” I was on the verge of tears. He thought for a moment, his eyes brightening. “Hey, isn’t it one of those huge lectures? I can go for you! I’m a fast runner.” My hands, halfway through pulling on a sweater, paused. Sunlight streamed through the window, wrapping Leo in a soft, golden halo. The sharp definition of his muscles gave him the sculpted perfection of a Greek statue. In that moment, he looked divine. Three hours of that soul-crushingly boring lecture… My savior had arrived. I threw my arms around him and showered his face with kisses before reluctantly sending him on his way. He promised me he’d sprint to the lecture hall and wouldn’t be late. He’d find a seat in the back, keep a low profile, and even take pictures of the important slides for me. God bless college boys. So thoughtful, both in and out of bed. Beaming, I crawled back under the covers for another glorious hour of sleep. When I finally woke up on my own time, my phone had exploded. 99+ notifications. DMs and group chat mentions were popping up like crazy: [OMG SIENNA YOU WENT FOR THE JUGULAR!!] [That’s the first time I’ve ever seen the Archdemon speechless. That was a CHECKMATE move! Best campus drama I’ve seen in my life!] [Sienna, you’re my hero! You think Professor Harrison will have to treat you with respect now? I mean, you’re basically his future daughter-in-law!] What the hell was all this? I scrolled down through the chaos. Finally, I saw a DM from my roommate. It was just one line: [Sienna! Professor Harrison’s only son… is named Leo! From the Athletics department!] My brain short-circuited. It felt like a pressure cooker had just exploded inside my skull. For the next five minutes, I just sat there on the bed, my mind a complete blank. Son. As in, the male offspring. Leo was Karl Harrison’s son… Which meant I had, by complete accident, slept with the Archdemon’s son. And then, by another complete accident, I had sent the Archdemon’s son to sign in for me in his own father’s class, outing our relationship in the most public way imaginable. Ha. A lecture hall with nearly two hundred witnesses. This wasn’t just a walk of shame; it was a public execution. Ping. A new message popped up on my screen. It was from the Archdemon himself. [Your taste in men is as abysmal as your academic writing.] My heart, what was left of it, finally shattered into dust. 4 An hour later, Leo was kneeling on the rug in front of my sofa, head bowed, hands gripping his own ears in a gesture of penance. He peeked up at me, his amber eyes wet and pleading, looking for all the world like a giant, guilty puppy awaiting its punishment. “Sienna, I’m so sorry…” I closed my eyes, consumed by despair. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me your dad was Karl Harrison!” “I didn’t know he was your advisor until today…” his voice trailed off, thick with misery. By the time Leo realized something was wrong, it was too late. He’d already found a seat in the corner, trying to make himself invisible. But then his father had strolled over, tapping the desk with a curled finger. “Excuse me, young man. Who are you?” Leo looked up, his face a mask of doom. “…Dad.” The students around them: (A collective gasp) Professor Harrison’s expression didn’t change as his eyes dropped to Leo’s phone screen. “I meant, who are you signing in as?” My name was displayed in crystal clear letters. Making things infinitely worse, Leo stammered, “Sienna… She was really tired last night. Dad, you can’t blame her.” The gossiping students: “Ooooooh!” After hearing the full story… my face was ashen, my soul had departed my body. Leo shuffled closer on his knees and gently tugged on the hem of my shirt. “Sienna, I know my dad’s a monster, but I’m innocent!” he pleaded. “From now on, if he’s awful to you… just take it out on me, okay?” Was that even a thing? The son pays for the father’s sins? While I was still processing, Leo grabbed my hand and brought it toward his own face. “Just hit me. Don’t be mad anymore, please?” The moment my palm made contact with his cheek, he turned his head in perfect sync. Smack. It was a light sound, the hit carrying almost no force. But a faint red bloomed instantly on his pale skin. My heart stuttered. The pent-up frustration I’d been holding for weeks suddenly released, and a flicker of hidden pleasure sparked to life inside me. 5 The Archdemon, completely unconcerned that his son was now my personal punching bag, continued his brutal assault on my thesis. “Remarkable. Truly remarkable. By my count, this is the sixth new word you’ve invented. They should let you edit the next dictionary.” “Overall, this reads less like a research paper and more like a piece of absurdist fiction.” “Just keep writing. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can start over.” I paced my room, fuming. “We’re done! It’s over! I can’t even look at you right now without wanting to scream!” Leo followed me around like a puppy, holding a small cake and a bubble tea. “Babe, what did I do? I’m trying to escape my toxic family too! Just one bite of cake? Please?” “No!” “Then have a bite of me,” he murmured. “The son pays for the father’s sins. And I’m ready to pay with my body.” I spun around, and he was already pulling his long-sleeved T-shirt off over his head. He wiggled the cake and tea at me. “Cake, tea, or me?” His glistening chest was right there, in my face. I swallowed hard, trying to stay strong. “The very thought of you sharing blood with that monster makes me want to murder you!” Leo’s eyes narrowed playfully, the tips of his canines showing. “What kind of murder?” I raised my hand and slapped it against his chest. The muscle was firm and warm beneath my palm. Leo let out a low grunt. Instead of backing away, he leaned into it, pressing closer. His warm lips brushed against my ear. “Oh… that kind of murder…” Leo’s pale skin was incredibly sensitive. After we were done, his body was a canvas of mottled red marks and the faint impressions of my teeth. I licked my lips, utterly satisfied. The reflection in the mirror showed a woman glowing with life. The dark cloud of thesis-induced rage that had been hanging over me for days had vanished completely. The ‘son pays for the father’s sins’ policy was officially in effect. And I was becoming a monster. His dad humiliates me in a group meeting, I cuss him out. His dad rejects my paper, I take it out on him. His dad tries to make me look like a fool in class, I make sure he can’t get out of bed. … This went on until the Archdemon finally reached his breaking point with my fabricated data. He introduced me to his star pupil. 6 Karl Harrison rubbed his temples, his computer screen displaying the nonsense data I had concocted. “I must have been a serial killer in a past life to deserve teaching in this one.” I, the pig in question, stood beside him, not daring to breathe. My usual thick skin had worn thin. He glanced at me, his disgust unconcealed. “Sienna, it’s a miracle you wrote this much, and it’s an act of mercy that I’ve read this far.” “It has immense entertainment value, but zero academic merit.” “Can you swear to me,” he challenged, “that you could replicate these experimental results?” I flinched. Six experiments had yielded six completely unrelated sets of data. If the results hadn’t been so ridiculously off, I wouldn’t have had to resort to making them up. “Professor… I… I took the most representative trends and performed some… reasonable averaging,” I mumbled, my voice getting smaller. “Reasonable averaging?” Professor Harrison raised an eyebrow. “Your data is the equivalent of claiming a grandmother’s walking speed is five hundred miles per hour.” Well, he had me there. I thought I was off by an inch, not a few hundred miles. The Archdemon slid a business card across the desk to me. “Have your senior teach you what an experiment is. You’re writing fairy tales, not science.” 7 I couldn’t believe the Archdemon was actually pairing me with his most prized student. Aidan was a legend in our department. He’d published in a top-tier journal as an undergrad, making him Professor Harrison’s golden boy and a certified academic star. I’d only heard that he was humble and low-key. Working with him, I realized he was more than just handsome; he was so gentle and kind, it was hard to believe he was a product of Harrison’s mentorship. He spent a whole night with me in the lab, patiently helping me redesign my experiment from the ground up. Aidan’s teaching style was all about encouragement. He even complimented me on how well I washed a test tube. He also told me that the Archdemon actually thought highly of me. “You don’t know this, Sienna, but the more Professor Harrison values someone, the harsher he is with them. For a long time, he tore me down so much I seriously considered finding a time to hang myself from his office door.” I muttered under my breath, “My coping mechanism is much healthier. The most I’ve considered is hanging his son from his office door.” “Hmm?” Aidan didn’t catch that. I waved my hand dismissively. “Nothing, nothing.” Aidan smiled. “He’s always praising you to me, you know.” My ears perked up. “Praising me? How?” “Well… he said he can tell your papers aren’t written by AI. You don’t take shortcuts, you’re not opportunistic. He said that’s a very good quality.” I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess, he left out the second half of that sentence: ‘because AI wouldn’t write something this bad.’” Aidan’s smile was warm. “Don’t sell yourself short. If you run into any trouble, your big brother is here to help.” With Aidan’s guidance and support, I was fired up, working with a newfound passion. I spent every waking moment in the lab. I barely had time to reply to Leo’s texts, maybe two or three a day. Seeing him in person was out of the question. I was observing a reaction, jotting down data. “Aidan, do you think I might be pregnant? Just looking at these numbers makes me want to puke.” Aidan got my joke and slid a milk tea across the bench to me. “Weren’t you two careful? I thought you always took precautions afterward.” Just as he finished speaking, there was a loud thud from the lab doorway, like someone had slammed into the frame. A dark figure quickly vanished. “What was that? Are the campus cats getting that big?” Aidan stood up and walked to the door, looking around. He bent down and picked up an elegantly wrapped bouquet of champagne-colored roses. When he turned back, his expression was amused. “Looks like it was a person,” he said, handing the flowers to me. “And I think they’re for you.” I grabbed the bouquet and ran outside, finding Leo by the flowerbeds below the science building. His head was hanging low, and he was clutching a thermos. He looked completely dejected. “What are you doing here?” I asked, walking up to him. “…I ran pretty far. Didn’t want you to have trouble finding me.” He looked up, his eyes downcast, the picture of misery. My heart softened, and I reached out to ruffle his soft hair. “Why didn’t you just come into the lab?” “I was afraid…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice was muffled. “Afraid I’d interrupt you two.” He whispered the last two words so quietly I almost didn’t hear them. Then he quickly shoved the thermos into my hands. “This is chicken soup. I made it for you.” I was pleasantly surprised. “You can make soup?” “I read online that the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.” He turned his face away, the tips of his ears turning red. “So I’ve been… working on my cooking skills.” “Aww,” I cooed, giving his shoulder a light punch. “Your cooking has always been great. You’re a master of the ‘one-handed stir-fry,’ after all.” Leo’s face flushed crimson, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t fade. He was quiet for a few seconds before asking in a low voice, “So… who’s better? Me or him?” “Huh?” I didn’t hear him clearly. “Who?” He shook his head, his voice raspy. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow over me, and took a deep breath. “Sienna, I’m leaving for the national tournament soon. Whatever decision you make… can you just wait until I get back to tell me? Please?” His words left me completely baffled. Before I could process anything, Leo leaned down and pressed a light, almost reverent kiss to my lips. Then he turned and strode away. I stood there, stunned. Was it a trick of the light? Or were his eyes glistening with tears just now?

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My husband died, but his voice didn’t. It started echoing in my head. As I checked our bank account, he was gloating. Heh. She’ll never guess I was reborn inside her own womb. She wants my money? Dream on. I already transferred the cash and the house to Claire! And I was smart enough to get a DNA test done with Claire’s kid. All she has to do is open my safe deposit box at the bank. The test will prove the kid is mine and entitle her to half my estate. Then, when Sophia is giving birth to me, I’ll find a way to make sure she dies in childbirth. The rest of the money will come right back to me! I’ll give it all to Claire, and our little family of three can finally be together! 1 When my husband, Marcus, died in an accident, I was so wracked with grief at the funeral that I collapsed. After being rushed to the hospital, the doctor wouldn’t let me leave. “You’re pregnant. Didn’t you know?” she asked gently. “This level of stress is dangerous. If you want to keep this baby, you need to stay here on bed rest. Your pregnancy is extremely unstable right now.” I clutched my stomach in shock. Before I could even process the news, my mother-in-law was grabbing my hand, her face streaked with tears. “Sophia, that baby is all we have left of our son. I’m begging you, you have to have this child.” “You just focus on giving birth,” she pleaded. “We’ll raise the baby for you. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be the light of our lives. Please, Sophia. This is your mother asking you.” A storm of joy and sorrow washed over me. This was the last gift Marcus had left me. In a rush of emotion, I agreed. But raising a child alone is expensive. A week later, I was discharged. The first thing I did when I got home was check our bank accounts. My husband had earned a good salary for years; there should have been more than enough to raise our child. But when I saw the balance, I had to rub my eyes in disbelief. “How is there only three thousand dollars?” My hand trembled as I scoured Marcus’s phone, checking every app, every account. All told, it was less than five thousand. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I had no idea what had happened, when suddenly, I heard Marcus’s sly voice in my head. Heh. She’ll never guess I transferred the cash and the house to Claire! My body went rigid. Claire was with me for six years, never asking for money or a title. I couldn’t let her down. Thank god I got all my affairs in order. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to rest in peace. The condo at The Crestwood is prime real estate. After buying it for her, there was just enough left over to give her a nice little nest egg. I slowly lowered my head, my gaze falling to my own stomach. The voice was coming from inside me. Could it be? Had he been reincarnated… in my womb? To test this insane theory, I spoke aloud, my words a deliberate probe. “Marcus made fifteen thousand a month, and I make ten. We should have had at least three hundred thousand in savings. For there to be this little… did he cheat on me?” ! How did she guess so fast? I was so careful! She never suspected a thing! My heart sank into a pit of ice. I had to accept the horrifying truth. My husband of six years had been cheating on me. Based on what he said, the affair started almost as soon as we were married. And I was actually planning on carrying his child to term. What a fool I’d been. Once I calmed down, it didn’t take long to find the digital breadcrumbs on his phone. The woman, Claire, was his mentee at work. She had even been to our house for dinner more than once. They had been carrying on right under my nose. And now, the bastard had been reborn inside me. The thought was so revolting I had to run to the bathroom and empty my stomach into the toilet. Ugh, morning sickness. But it doesn’t matter how sick she gets. She’ll have me. She’s always been so devoted to me. Rage and grief churned inside me. I grabbed my coat, my keys, and drove straight to The Crestwood. On the way, I called my lawyer and had him pull every single one of Marcus’s bank statements. He thought he had everything arranged for his little mistress? Whatever he arranged, I was going to tear it all down. 2 The closer I got to The Crestwood, the more agitated Marcus’s voice became. She’s broke. What is she doing here? Did she find out something? But I hid it so well! Stay calm, stay calm. Sophia’s not smart enough to figure this out. She can’t do anything. I slapped my stomach, hard, and slammed my foot on the gas. At the complex, I went straight to Claire Han’s apartment. When she opened the door and saw me, a flicker of panic crossed her face before being quickly suppressed. “Mrs. Kane? What… what are you doing here?” I ignored her, walking past her and taking in the apartment. It was easy to see she wasn’t spending her own money. From the expensive flooring to the designer furniture, everything was top-of-the-line. The sofa in the living room was the exact model I had wanted when we got married, the one Marcus had refused to buy, saying it was too extravagant. And here it was. In his mistress’s home. I started toward the master bedroom, but Claire grabbed my arm and steered me back to the living room. “Mrs. Kane…” she said, cautiously pouring me a glass of water. “I know you’re grieving. Maybe we could go for a walk? Get some fresh air?” Damn it, this is all my fault. If I could have just given Claire the status she deserved, she wouldn’t have to be so timid in front of this bitch. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I decided to cut the crap. “Claire, as I recall, your salary is about three thousand dollars a month. A place here costs a fortune.” “Did you buy this apartment yourself?” “Yes!” She was clearly lying through her teeth, so desperate to quell my suspicions that she rushed to get the deed before I could say another word. “See? It’s my house. My name is on the deed, Mrs. Kane.” I let out a cold laugh and slapped the document down on the coffee table. “Your name on the deed doesn’t mean you paid for it.” She froze, staring at me for a moment before a smirk spread across her face. “What’s this? Coming here to pick a fight? You’re a little late, aren’t you? Your husband is a pile of ash. Dead men tell no tales.” I watched her, my expression unreadable. “Claire, I remember the first time we met. You were just a girl from some small town in the mountains, so clueless you didn’t even know how to use an automatic faucet.” “Marcus took good care of you these past six years, didn’t he? Better than your own parents, I’d bet.” Sophia! You sharp-tongued bitch, what are you saying! Claire is just an innocent kid! Why does a bitter widow like you have to bully a young girl? My gaze grew colder, and Claire’s face flushed with anger. But she stuck to her story. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop making baseless accusations.” “Coming all the way here to harass me… don’t think I won’t call the police and have you arrested!” That’s right! Stick to that story! I’m dead now. She has no proof! I smiled. Those two traitors really were on the same wavelength. I pulled out the bank statements my lawyer had prepared, a detailed record of Marcus’s finances for the past six years. “You think I have no recourse just because you deny it? You keep saying this is your house. Then maybe you can explain this transfer of five hundred thousand dollars from Marcus’s account to the property developer?” Seeing the evidence in my hands, Claire finally broke. “Mrs. Kane, Marcus just felt sorry for me and my daughter! We had nowhere to live! He let us stay here, he said the house was ours! It was his dying wish! You can’t kick us out!” “And besides,” she added, “his parents know all about this.” What? Marcus’s parents knew he was cheating and approved of him buying a house for his mistress? “I’ll… I’ll call them right now! You have no right to make this decision!” 3 Less than half an hour later, Marcus’s parents arrived. They exchanged a look, and then, as if they’d planned it, they each grabbed one of my arms and started pulling me toward the door. “Sophia, we knew about this. Just drop it,” my father-in-law said. “Your only job right now is to take care of yourself and give our family a grandson. Don’t worry about anything else, you hear me?” my mother-in-law added. The absurdity of it all made me laugh. This family of self-righteous hypocrites was disgusting. “Let go of me, or I’m getting rid of this baby.” That made them release me. My mother-in-law adopted a patronizing tone. “Sophia, dear, we paid for this house. We just saw how hard it was for them, a mother and daughter all alone. Don’t overthink it.” “Marcus was Claire’s mentor. Isn’t it natural for him to help his mentee with her living situation?” I turned to Claire and gave her my ultimatum. “You have three days to return the five hundred thousand dollars for the house, plus the other eighty thousand he transferred to you over the years. Or I’ll see you in court.” His parents immediately jumped to her defense. “Sophia, you come back here! Our son gave her that house, it has nothing to do with you! What right do you have to take it back?” “Just because our son is dead, you think you can call the shots? Don’t think that baby in your belly makes you the queen!” My voice was calm as I delivered the final blow. “I have proof that Marcus was having an affair with Claire Han.” “Every penny Marcus spent on her was marital property. Do you think I can’t get it back?” “Claire,” I said, my eyes locking onto hers, “surely you know the basics. The law doesn’t protect mistresses.” Claire’s face was pale as she bit her lip, unable to say a word. I turned and walked away, leaving Marcus screaming in my head. I really underestimated this bitch! God damn it, just wait until I’m born! I’ll make you pay! Vile whore! I make good money, what’s wrong with supporting another woman? Every man cheats! You take back the house and make Claire and our daughter sleep on the street? You’re a monster! I ignored him and kept walking. As I got in my car, Marcus suddenly let out a sigh of relief. Good thing I already got that DNA test done with Claire’s kid. All she has to do is open my safe deposit box. The test will prove the kid is mine and entitle her to half my estate. Even if she takes the house and the money, Claire and our daughter will be fine. My hand froze on the ignition. The tears I had been holding back finally fell. No wonder his parents defended her. Her daughter was Marcus’s. And the cruelest joke of all? I’m a senior obstetrician at the local hospital. I was the one who delivered Claire’s daughter. Those two bastards deserved to burn in hell. 4 See? She’s crying. Still heartbroken over me. I knew she was just putting on a brave face. All this drama is just because she loves me too much. But it can’t be helped. The only person I’ll ever love is Claire. The way she looks at me with those innocent, adoring eyes… I can’t resist it. It’s a look Sophia could never learn. I wiped my tears away, my face twisting in disgust. Marcus’s nauseating monologue snapped me out of my grief. I drove home and immediately found our marriage certificate. Then, I said aloud, “Marcus was always so sneaky. I wonder what he might have hidden in a bank…” AHHHH! How did she guess again?! I left so little for Claire! Is she going to take it all? How can Sophia be so conniving? Claire, forget the house! Just go to the bank, get the DNA test from the safe deposit box! At least you can get half the estate for our daughter! I’ll find a way to get the rest back for you after I’m born! Hearing the panic in his voice, like an ant on a hot pan, lifted my spirits considerably. At the bank, I used Marcus’s death certificate and our marriage certificate to open his safe deposit box. I had prepared myself, but the sight of that DNA test result still stung. Sophia! You destroy that test and I swear to god I will kill you! The creature inside me was throwing a powerless tantrum. I deliberately held the paper near my belly… “If I tear this up, there will be no one left in the world who can prove the connection between Claire’s daughter and Marcus, right?” Nooo, that’s the only proof! Don’t tear it! I’ll kick you to death! I swear I’ll break your ribs! How pathetic. A fetus was threatening me? Right in front of him, I slowly tore the paper into tiny pieces. Then I took out a lighter and burned them to ash. “Don’t worry, Marcus,” I said calmly. “I won’t let your mistress get a single penny.” “And another thing. Why should a mistress and an illegitimate child get to live their lives out in the open?” What… what is she planning to do? Using Marcus’s work account, I forwarded proof of his affair with Claire to every single one of his colleagues. Then I went to the parent group for Claire’s daughter’s school and exposed her mother as a homewrecker. Soon, my phone was blowing up with calls from Claire. “Sophia, I know you hate me! Take it out on me, but my daughter is innocent! What kind of person hurts a child?” “You push me too far, and I swear I will drag you down with me!” My reply was ice-cold. “Your daughter’s private kindergarten costs over twenty thousand a year. My husband’s salary paid for that. You still think she’s innocent?” Claire treated her daughter like the most precious thing in the world. But did she know that when she was pregnant, I was pregnant too? Marcus had claimed to be child-free, that he hated kids. He threatened to divorce me unless I terminated the pregnancy. It turned out he just hated my child. Claire was screaming on the other end of the line. “Marcus gave me that money! It’s your own damn fault you couldn’t keep your man!” “How is my daughter supposed to show her face at school now?!” I scoffed. “You should have thought of that when you were sleeping with another woman’s husband.” “Claire, if you don’t return the money in three days, your daughter won’t just have trouble showing her face. Her only remaining legal guardian will be in jail.” Claire was hysterical, but Marcus had suddenly gone quiet. It’s fine. I pretended to be a loving husband to Sophia for years. She’ll definitely give birth to me. All I have to do is make sure she dies in childbirth, and all the assets will come back to me, the sole heir! Then I’ll arrange for Claire to adopt me, and our family can finally be together again! He must be out of options now. A small smile played on my lips as I drove to the hospital. I walked to the registration desk, my smile widening, and said the one sentence that would drive Marcus insane. “I’m here for an abortion.”

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The new homeless man was always staring at me. He was filthy, and I always tried to avoid him. But every day, he’d give me the weather forecast. On my birthday, he bought me a Happy Meal. He wasn’t a bad guy. I started helping him collect cans and bottles. The little money he made, he spent at a print shop. Curious, I followed him one day. He was printing missing person flyers. “If my Lulu were alive,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow, “she’d be about your age.” His daughter had been abducted by traffickers when she was three years old. 1 On my way home from work, a man in ragged clothes suddenly stepped in front of me. “Miss, could you tell me how to get to the Serenity Apartments?” He looked about fifty, but the lines etched on his face made him seem closer to seventy. His temples were completely white, and his eyes, though weary, were startlingly bright. It was strange. He looked every bit the part of a homeless man, but I wasn’t afraid. The place he was asking for was my apartment complex. I pointed him in the right direction. “Turn right at the intersection. You can’t miss it.” He grinned, a wide, genuine smile. “Thank you, miss. You’re a kind soul.” He walked faster than I did and reached the complex first. But he didn’t seem to know which apartment he was looking for. He just stood downstairs, staring blankly at the scattered lights in the windows. Winter arrived quickly. The days grew colder, the wind biting, but the old man stayed. He had made a home for himself in a small corner next to the garbage collection area, surviving by collecting recyclables. His daily meal was a bowl of the cheapest broth and noodles he could find. But he wasn’t lazy. He was often out late, returning long after dark. I never knew what he was so busy with. Our paths crossed so often that we slowly became familiar. If we met in the morning, he would remind me— “It’s getting cold. Wear an extra layer so you don’t catch a chill.” “It’s going to rain tomorrow. Don’t forget your umbrella.” I just thought he was a kind, chatty person. I’d always thank him as I passed. One day, he was carrying a huge armful of recyclables. The ground was slick, and he slipped, the bottles and cardboard scattering everywhere. I rushed over to help him up. “Are you okay?” He shook his head and immediately bent down to search for something among the debris. After a moment of frantic searching, the deep furrows in his brow finally smoothed out. I followed his gaze. He was carefully cradling a small rattle drum. It was old and plain, the kind you could find anywhere. The drum’s surface and handle were worn smooth by time. He wiped it clean with a gentle hand. I couldn’t help but ask, “Is that very precious to you?” He nodded. “This was Lulu’s favorite toy when she was little.” “Who’s Lulu?” “My daughter.” “Oh,” I said, my mind racing. How could a man with a child end up like this? As if sensing my question, he sighed. “Lulu was taken by traffickers when she was three.” I froze, the words not registering for a long moment. “I’ve been looking for her for over twenty years. Found nothing.” “I’ve been to every corner of this country. This is the last state I haven’t searched.” I asked dumbly, “So, all that work you do during the day is for…” “Yes,” he said. “To find Lulu.” In my confusion, I blurted out without thinking, “Doesn’t it cost a lot of money to look for a child? Can you really manage… doing this?” He understood my meaning and gave a bitter smile. “I had a job at first… but I was so desperate to find her…” “This is better, anyway. If I just sit in a room, the anxiety eats me alive.” “If I can’t find her, I’m always terrified that she’s suffering.” He seemed to be lost in a painful memory, his rough hand stroking the broken rattle drum over and over. 2 At lunch, I was eating on a bench in the hospital corridor. I glanced up and saw my parents again. They were standing outside the obstetrics department, listening intently to what a doctor was saying. They were nearly fifty, but they were still obsessed with having another child. I had asked them once, “You’ve been trying for ten years without success. Why keep pushing yourselves?” My parents’ faces were etched with a quiet sadness. “We just want to leave you with a brother or a sister.” But I didn’t need one. I had loving parents, a man I adored, and a promising career ahead of me. My life was full. I didn’t need anything else. I tossed my lunch and went back to work. When I got home that evening, my parents were both there, a feast spread across the table. My mother saw me and waved happily. “Luna, come here.” I sat down. “Mom, what’s got you so happy?” My father brought the last dish to the table. “The best news! Your mother’s pregnant!” Clatter. My chopsticks fell from my hand, landing on my bowl. After a brief, heavy silence, they spoke with a hint of guilt. “We’re sorry, Luna. Your mother just really wanted another baby.” After a long moment, I nodded, my face a blank mask. “As long as you’re happy. Are there any risks?” My mother’s joy returned. “They said no! I feel great!” “That’s good,” I said, my voice flat. I used to have a sister. My father told me about her. She died of an illness when she was three. My mother fell into a deep depression, which only lifted when I was born. For over twenty years, I had been the pride of our family. An Ivy League graduate, a doctor at one of the top hospitals in the country. I was, by all accounts, a success. But my sister’s death had left a scar on their hearts, one that could only be healed by the arrival of a new child. The rest of the meal was quiet. I tried to make conversation. “How’s the charity work going?” “Everything’s going well,” my father replied. “The donations have been increasing,” my mother added. “We’ve been able to help several more families who have lost their only child.” Growing up, my parents were rarely around. They were always traveling for work. When I was young and didn’t understand, I accused them of not loving me. They would just smile sadly. It wasn’t until I was older that I understood they were doing something more important than making money—they were helping thousands of parents find their abducted children. My old complaints faded away, replaced by a quiet sense of pride. 3 A few nights later, the streetlights on my way home were out. The path ahead was pitch black, and I had to use my phone’s flashlight to see. As I reached the entrance to my complex, the old man was waiting anxiously. When he saw me, he hurried over. “Why are you so late tonight? Did you run into trouble?” His concern seemed a little excessive, but I didn’t think much of it. “The streetlights are broken,” I explained. After that night, there was another set of footsteps on my walk home. At first, it scared me, but when I saw the familiar shadow, I relaxed. It was the old man. He kept a polite distance, escorting me to the entrance of the complex before we went our separate ways. The next day, as I was making breakfast, I paused and added a little extra to the pan. I found the old man and handed him a carton of milk and a sandwich. He looked surprised and stammered for a moment. I was about to miss my bus, so I just pushed the food into his hands and ran off. The old man started meeting me on my way home from work with a fresh apple or a small basket of sweet strawberries. We seemed to have fallen into a comfortable, unspoken routine. I gave him breakfast; he gave me fruit and snacks. It was never much, just a few dollars’ worth of things, but I knew it was all he could afford. On my days off, I would sometimes help him carry his recyclables to the collection center. He’d count the few dozen dollars he made, putting half away and using the other half to buy me a roasted sweet potato. I felt bad taking it, but he would just smile and say, “Go on, eat it. Just pretend I’m buying it for Lulu.” His devotion to his daughter was so deep. I had no choice but to accept. “Thank you, sir.” I broke the sweet potato in two and handed him half. He hesitated for a second before taking it. The sweet potato that day was incredible. So sweet that it would hold a special place in my memory for the rest of my life, a marker of a happy moment. After we ate, he asked me where he could find a print shop. I looked it up on my phone and took him there. He handed the owner a battered, old flash drive. “Hello. I’d like to print something.” The owner gave him a disdainful look. “How many copies?” The old man pulled a handful of crumpled bills and loose change from his pocket—nickels, dimes, quarters, ones, fives, tens, twenties… a small mountain of money. “Whatever this will buy.” The owner plugged the drive into his computer and stared at the single image on the screen. He looked at the old man, then turned and called to a younger employee. “Come count this.” Half an hour later, the printing was done. Stacks of paper were piled high on the floor. Four bold words were printed on every sheet: “HAVE YOU SEEN ME?” 4 It took me a moment to find my voice. “Are you sure you can hand out all of these?” The old man smiled. “I’m sure.” I picked up one of the stacks. It was heavy. My eyes scanned the dozen or so remaining piles. I took out my phone to call a cab. “It’s fine,” the old man said. “I’ll just make a few trips. It’ll keep me warm.” The owner glanced between the two of us and finally said, “Just leave them here. Come get them whenever you need them.” The old man was filled with gratitude. “Good people are blessed with good fortune,” he said, bowing his head. When we left the shop, we each had a stack of flyers in our hands. “I could have done this myself, you know,” the old man said with a weary smile. “It’s good exercise,” I replied, smiling back. We spent the afternoon handing out the flyers. The old man bought me a bottle of water. I didn’t refuse. We sat on a curb, and I asked him, “Did you spend all your money on the printing?” He shook his head. “I saved a little. Put it on a card.” I watched the traffic go by. “Why don’t you spend some on yourself?” I asked softly. “Eat better, get some warmer clothes… a better place to stay.” “I’m all alone. It doesn’t matter where I live,” he said. “I’m saving it for Lulu.” I looked at his weathered face and felt a pang of sadness. “What if… what if you can’t find her?” His expression didn’t change. Perhaps he had cried all his tears long ago. “If I can’t find her, I’ll donate it.” I took a deep breath. “You won’t have to,” I said, trying to comfort him. “You said it yourself. Good people are blessed with good fortune.” After a moment, he pulled a notebook from his army-green coat. It was falling apart, the cover long gone. The edges were held together with layers of tape. He opened it. “Lulu was taken on her third birthday.” He pointed to a simple drawing on the first page. “She was always asking for a family portrait on the phone.” “I was busy with work, no time to go home. So I drew one for her.” “I was going to give it to her for her birthday…” The lines in the drawing were shaky, retraced several times to get them right. The following pages were filled with portraits of a little girl. The drawings became more skilled over time, but the girl’s features grew blurrier and blurrier. The old man’s gaze fell on the last drawing. “I’ve never seen Lulu grown up,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine what she looks like.” A lump formed in my throat. I didn’t dare speak. He turned another page, revealing years of calendars. In the early years, each day was filled with words. “Lulu, Daddy saw a girl today who looked just like you. Her eyes, her nose, her mouth… only her hands were different. If you were grown up, you would be even more beautiful.” “Today is my last day in Nevada. I’ve spent a year here and found no trace of you. Tomorrow, I’m going to Oregon. Will you be there?” Later, the entries grew shorter. “Searched all of Florida. No Lulu. Next stop, Georgia.” The following year, he had crossed out that entry in red ink and written a new one: “Lulu, Dad misses you.” I couldn’t bring myself to read any more. I covered my face, unable to speak. The old man’s sighs came one after another, heavy with sorrow.

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The day the pork stamp was pressed against my cheek, I was reborn. It was a joke, a little prank from Lucas’s young secretary during what was meant to be our seventh-anniversary dinner. She was pouring me a glass of wine when she did it, laughing as the greasy, purple ink branded my skin. This time, I didn’t slap her like I did in my last life. And I didn’t scream at Lucas like a madwoman, demanding a divorce when he rushed to her defense. Instead, I just smiled at him, a calm, serene little smile. “She’s really something, isn’t she? You two have fun.” I picked up my purse. “Let’s just consider our anniversary celebration officially over. I’m heading home.” I walked out of that private dining room without a backward glance. What else could I do? The last time I divorced Lucas, my life became a living hell. He crushed me with the same ruthless precision he used on his business rivals, holding onto every asset with a death grip. I consulted every lawyer in the city and walked away with a grand total of forty-eight dollars. Right after the divorce, I was diagnosed with cancer. When the pain became unbearable, I swallowed my pride and went to him, kneeling at his feet. But he just stood there, letting his new secretary slap me three times across the face before turning me away without a single cent. Broke and alone, I froze to death on the doorstep of the house we had shared for seven years. So no, dignity is not more important than life. 1 I didn’t expect him to follow me out. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight. “Sophie, let me explain. Jenna is just young and playful. She thought the pork stamp would be a funny way to break the ice.” “She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body,” he continued, his voice softening. “We grew up together. She’s always been a little mischief-maker, and since you’re my wife, she probably just got a little too comfortable and forgot her boundaries. Don’t be angry with her.” He’d said the exact same thing in my last life. Back then, humiliated and shaking with rage, his gentle defense of another woman had been the final straw. In front of all our friends, I had slapped him across the face, screamed the word “divorce,” and stormed out. I was so naive then, thinking the threat of leaving him actually meant something. I walked the streets for four hours in a cold, miserable winter drizzle, tears streaming down my face. My heels rubbed my ankles raw until they bled. I caught a fever that spiked to 104 degrees. And as I lay in our bed, shivering and sick, Lucas never called. He didn’t even try to find me. Instead, he and Jenna flew to Europe on a business trip that very night. Pictures of him adjusting the strap of her cocktail dress, of her leaning in to kiss his cheek, were all over his company’s gossip forums. The memory was so bitterly ironic that a small, mocking smile touched my lips. That smile seemed to snap something in him. He suddenly shoved my hand away, his voice sharp with anger. “How many times do I have to tell you? Jenna is the daughter of my dad’s old friend. I’m just looking out for her.” “It was a stupid pork stamp. Go home and wash it off. Can you stop being so ridiculously jealous and making up stories about us in your head?” The sudden fury on his face sent a familiar ache through my chest. But the pain wasn’t for him. It was for the woman I used to be. In my last life, I had pancreatic cancer, one of the most agonizing forms of the disease. My days were a blur of nurses jabbing me with long needles, leaving me a sniffling, tear-streaked mess. At night, I would curl into a ball on the floor, clutching my stomach, sobbing and praying for a quick death. When I ran out of money, I’d take a fruit knife and cut into my own emaciated flesh, just hoping the new pain would offer a moment’s distraction, a chance for a full night’s sleep. Even then, even in that state, I couldn’t bring myself to sell our wedding rings for another dose of painkillers. When the doctor told me I had a month to live, I dragged my skeletal frame to his house, planning to beg him to take me back. He had sworn, after my parents died, that he would take care of me for the rest of my life. I finally found my way back to the home we’d shared for seven years. I had to kneel and beg the security guard just to get him to call Lucas for me. When he answered, I barely managed to whisper his name before he cut me off, his voice flat and cold. “Sophie, we’re divorced. That means we have nothing to do with each other anymore. Whatever is happening in your life, don’t call me again.” He hung up. I collapsed in the backyard of that sprawling mansion. In the final moments of my life, as my vision faded, I saw him through the window. He was holding Jenna, laughing in the home I had so carefully decorated, drinking from the wine glasses I had chosen, sharing a sweet, intimate kiss. The memory was a suffocating weight. I pushed it down, forcing the smile back onto my face. “Lucas, I’m really not jealous. And I’m not mad at Jenna,” I said, my voice even. “I’m just tired and I want to go home. You should go back inside.” Surprise flickered across his face. While he was still processing my words, I turned and walked away without another glance. 2 The first thing I did when I got home was go to my room, lock the door, and call the hospital. I booked an appointment for a full check-up with a top specialist for the next morning. Whether it was this life or the last, all I ever wanted was to live. I had just hung up when Lucas came home. I didn’t know he’d be back so soon. He was yanking at his tie, his face a mask of irritation. “What was that on the street just now?” he demanded. “Sophie, can you stop pulling a long face over every little thing?” Ever since Jenna had become his secretary, he had become relentlessly critical of me. Nothing I did was ever right. It was his sudden change in attitude, coupled with Jenna’s constant provocations, that had driven me to madness in our last marriage. I suppressed the suffocating pain in my chest and turned to face him calmly. “Lucas, believe it or not, I’m not angry. I’m not trying to cause a scene, and I’m not giving you the silent treatment.” I gestured to my face. “See? The pork stamp is all washed off. I’m not holding a grudge against you, and I certainly don’t have the energy to hold one against Jenna.” Without waiting for a reply, I turned and locked myself in the bathroom. When I came out, Lucas was gone. But my phone was blowing up. It was Jenna’s signature move. Whenever she was with him, she would bombard me with photos of them together, treating my inbox like her personal photo dump. In my past life, her pictures would send me into fits of tears or rages that I’d take out on Lucas. This time, I looked at the photo she sent and typed a reply. I wasn’t insulting. In fact, I was very sincere. “You’re holding the phone at the wrong angle,” I wrote. “Lucas’s profile is his better side. Try holding it higher next time.” “Also, there’s too much empty space in the shot. Crop it tighter so you two look closer, more intimate.” A reply came back almost instantly. “Did someone hack your account?” I sent her a smiling emoji. “Nope. Just wanted to let you know, he’s all yours.” Then, I blocked her number. This new arrangement worked for me. I’d keep the title of Mrs. Hayes and the supplementary credit card. Jenna could have his body and his time. It was a much better deal than the one I’d fought for last time, when all I’d foolishly wanted was his love. 3 After dealing with Jenna, I lay down and closed my eyes. But even with a second chance at life, sleep didn’t come easily. Just like when I was sick, my dreams were haunted by our past. When we were kids, Lucas was painfully shy and introverted. His mother, a renowned teacher, was relentlessly hard on him. She would beat him for every mistake. I remember seeing him late at night, sometimes midnight when I’d already been asleep for hours, hunched over his desk under the harsh glare of a lamp. He’d be wearing his thick glasses, scribbling away at worksheets while his mother stood over him with a cane, bringing it down hard on his back for every wrong answer. I lived across the street, and it broke my heart to watch. So, whenever I got a piece of candy, I would secretly slip it into his backpack on the way to school. “Lucas,” I’d whisper with a smile, “eat one when your back hurts.” The first time I did it, his face turned beet red. He waited until I was a hundred feet away before mumbling, “I… I don’t eat candy.” I just waved back at him. “You should talk more, Lucas. You have a really nice voice.” It became our ritual. The quiet, solitary Lucas started waiting for me on the walk to school, waiting for me to slip a piece of candy into his bag. We walked that little alleyway outside our neighborhood through countless springs, summers, and winters. Then came our high school graduation. Lucas, the valedictorian, was heading to a top university. He awkwardly handed me a brochure for another school. “I looked it up,” he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s only a ten-minute walk from my campus. Your scores aren’t high enough for a four-year degree, but you could get into their two-year program.” Looking at his earnest, nervous face, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that my parents had already decided I would go to a four-year university, even a lesser-known one. They said they could afford it. So, I secretly changed my application, against their wishes. The decision earned me a tag-team lecture from both of them, but I never regretted it. We went to college in the same city. Away from his mother, Lucas blossomed. He swapped his thick glasses for contacts, grew out his buzz cut into soft curls, and traded his plaid shirts for crisp, white button-downs. His ever-present black sneakers were replaced with stylish white ones. I had no idea what prompted the change until one day, I was squealing with excitement because my favorite band was coming to town. Lucas grabbed my arm, his eyes red-rimmed. “I changed everything to be the person you’d like,” he said, his voice trembling. “Is it still not enough to make you like me back?” The word “like” hit me like a physical blow. Even though we were at different schools, I knew about the legend of Lucas Hayes. He was a programming prodigy, winning national competitions as a freshman and landing offers from major tech firms by his sophomore year. A group of girls had even started an online forum dedicated to documenting his transformation. I always thought there was an ocean between us, that we would never be more than friends. But here he was, telling me he liked me. Never one to be shy, I stood on my toes and kissed him. We started dating. My main role, as I saw it, was to supply him with a steady stream of my favorite milk teas, desserts, and pastries. I had no life plan; my days revolved around what to feed Lucas, where to take him, what to do for fun. Meanwhile, his life continued its meteoric rise. He started his own company while in grad school, secured multiple rounds of funding right after, and by the time he finished his PhD, his tech firm was in the top ten in the country. My life, in stark contrast, felt cursed. I failed the exam to transfer to a four-year program. After graduation, I lived entirely off the allowance Lucas gave me. Then, in my second year out of college, my parents, who had always doted on me, were rushing to see me in the hospital for a bout of pneumonia when they were killed in a car crash. I was an orphan. I clung to their bodies, my tears soaking through the sterile white sheets. And Lucas knelt beside me, in front of them, and under the cold, disapproving gaze of his mother, he swore he would take care of me for the rest of my life. We got married. I had multiple miscarriages, losing every pregnancy. Then, he met Jenna. He started to find fault with me. I was shallow, he said. All I ever did was ask him what he wanted to eat or drink. I wasn’t like Jenna, who could discuss world-famous paintings with him, who could debate the future of the tech industry. Tears welled in my eyes. I blinked them open to find the room filled with morning light. Just like in my last life, my pillow was soaked through. Just then, a text from Lucas came through. We’re visiting my mom at the nursing home this afternoon. 4 I looked at the message and replied calmly: I have something on today. Can’t make it. His call came instantly. “What do you have on today?” he demanded. “Sophie, how many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing going on between me and Jenna? Why do you have to keep harping on this one little thing?” A bitter smile touched my lips. Ever since his company took off, Lucas had become a man of few words. For him to circle back to the same topic over and over… was he trying to convince himself he wasn’t interested in Jenna, or was he just trying to ease his own guilt? A shiver of pain went through me, but my voice was steady. “Lucas, I don’t feel well. I have a hospital appointment. I really can’t go with you to see your mom today.” “Besides,” I added, “she has a heart condition, and she’s never liked me. Isn’t it better if I don’t go and upset her? And doesn’t she adore Jenna? She’s always saying that only someone of Jenna’s status is good enough for you. Why don’t you take her instead?” I genuinely thought I was offering a reasonable solution. But it only made him angrier. “Fine, Sophie. Keep playing your games.” He hung up. Listening to the dial tone, I let out another small, humorless laugh. See? That was the difference between being loved and not being loved. The old Lucas, the one who loved me, would panic at the slightest hint of sadness on my face, asking frantically what he’d done wrong. The Lucas of today, the one who didn’t love me, heard a sincere suggestion and still thought I was just trying to stir up trouble. 5 The ache in my chest was a familiar weight, but I didn’t let it delay me. I went straight to the hospital. I deliberately left my phone at home, afraid that another call would ruin my mood. This check-up was too important. It would determine whether or not I was destined to repeat the fate of my past life. For the next seven days, I stayed at the hospital, undergoing biopsies, blood tests, and endless scans. I had to thank Lucas’s reputation—and his bank account—for the quality of my care. By dropping his name, I was able to see a specialist who, in my last life, I had waited a month just to get an appointment with. Now, he saw me first on his rounds every single morning. In my past life, I’d had to sell my bags and jewelry to afford treatment. I had no special access, which meant a new trip to the hospital for every test, waiting two hours for a blood draw, a week for a CT scan. This time, thanks to Lucas, I just had to lie in a VIP room while nurses came to me. The news was good. And bad. I did have cancer, but it was in its earliest stages. When the doctor told me, his face was full of pity. I, on the other hand, burst into tears, my body shaking uncontrollably. Everyone assumed I was terrified. Only I knew they were tears of joy. I finally had a chance to live. I checked into the hospital that same day to begin treatment. I was confident I could beat it. This time, I had money, the best doctors, and the best medicine. Chemotherapy was still hell, but because it was early-stage, the drugs were less aggressive. They were imported, a world away from the generic drugs with their brutal side effects I’d endured last time. Other than losing my hair and some weight, I felt surprisingly good. I had enough energy for a walk every day. And thanks to the medication, I never once felt the searing, unbearable pain of advanced pancreatic cancer. After a month of treatment, my doctor gave me even more hope. He said that after two more rounds of chemo, there was a high probability I could go home. It was a tiny spark that ignited a fire in my soul. In my last life, my only dream was to be cured, to live. But just as I was about to pay for my third round of treatment, the hospital informed me that my supplementary card had been declined. The account was frozen. When the nurse told me, I remained calm. As long as we were still married, Lucas was legally obligated to pay for my medical care. I asked the nurse for a day pass and took a cab to his office. The receptionist stopped me at the door. “I’m sorry, miss, but you need an appointment to see Mr. Hayes.” I gave her a small smile and pulled my marriage certificate out of my purse. “Does this count as an appointment?” She took one look at it and shot to her feet. “My apologies, Mrs. Hayes. I didn’t recognize you.” I just nodded and followed her to the elevator. As we passed through the open-plan office, I could feel eyes on me. I knew I looked a sight: bald, with a thick down jacket thrown over my hospital gown. But I felt no shame. In my last life, after the divorce, I had come here to beg him for money. I never even made it past the front door. Back then, all I had was a divorce certificate. This time, I had proof of marriage.

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A photo of me and Chloe Thorne went viral overnight. In it, we’re wearing our blue and white school uniforms, standing side-by-side, throwing up peace signs. Attached is a photo of the grade rankings: Chloe is #1, I am #2. A netizen commented: [There’s zero romance in their eyes. Just pure determination to study the other one to death.] I’ve been crushed by Chloe for ten years. I thought I was doomed to be the eternal runner-up. Until one day, I woke up… And realized I’m the villainous male side character in a high school romance novel. And Chloe is the female lead. Realizing this didn’t make me sad at all. I knew my chance had come! I’m going to be number one! 1 I’ve been second to Chloe Thorne for a decade. Every exam, I’m exactly one rank behind her. I am the eternal runner-up on the honor roll. Then one day, while napping on my desk during a break, I gained sentience. I discovered I’m the villainous side character in a YA romance novel. In the story, I wreak havoc to sabotage the romance between the female lead and the male lead, eventually getting myself expelled. The female lead and the transfer student male lead, after “overcoming” the obstacle that is me, successfully get together. However, their grades slip due to dating, and their families force them apart. To save the male lead from his abusive father, the female lead intentionally misses the SATs, repeats a year with him, and they both get into their dream university, living happily ever after. The heroine of this story is Chloe Thorne, the girl who always beats me. After waking up, I sat up straight and glanced at Chloe, who was chatting with the person in front of her in the next row. The world is going to hell. How can this old rival be the heroine? But it doesn’t matter. In the novel, the male lead is supposed to transfer to our class in the next few days. His arrival marks the beginning of my bright future. As long as I refuse to play the villain, I won’t be affected by their plot. I can defeat Chloe and finally become number one! My excitement lasted almost the entire day. Just thinking about my upcoming comeback made it hard to control my facial expressions. That evening, walking home with Chloe, I didn’t bother suppressing my glee. Chloe’s face remained neutral, but she was speed-walking like an Olympian. Our moms are best friends, and we live directly across the street from each other. Before entering her house, she looked at me like I was an idiot, then quickly slammed the door. After dinner, I got a text from my buddy, Mike: “Bro, you’re a legend!” Attached was a link to a video I posted on social media a few days ago when the midterm results came out. The video contained only two images. One was a screenshot of me and Chloe, the other was the midterm ranking list. No caption, but the netizens understood me perfectly. “There’s zero romance in their eyes. Just pure determination to study the other one to death.” “The girl is even holding a pen in the photo.” “When is the guy gonna assassinate the girl to take first place?” I liked the comment about assassination. Soon. 2 The male lead transferred to our class the next day. When he introduced himself as Julian Summerfield, I knew it. He was the one. My dream wasn’t baseless; this was all real. Just like in the novel, Julian was seated next to Chloe. I sat diagonally behind Chloe. A slight turn of my head, and I could see their backs. On the first day, Julian probably hadn’t received his new textbooks yet. Chloe placed her worksheet between their desks so they could share. The math teacher was explaining a crucial concept. Both of them lowered their heads simultaneously to look at the problem. They looked up at the same time, finding their faces inches apart. Realizing the awkwardness, both quickly sat up straight. I couldn’t see their expressions, but I clearly saw Julian awkwardly bring a fist to his mouth and cough lightly. And Chloe’s ears and neck turned bright red. A strange feeling bubbled up inside me. I steadied myself and looked away. This is what I wanted, right? Ethan Vance, stop looking at women! Focus on studying! I took a deep breath and forced my attention to the blackboard. After the first period, several girls gathered around Julian’s desk. I glanced over. Two of them were the “artsy” girls in our class, known for partying and dating around. The male lead is handsome; naturally, he attracted their attention. Suddenly surrounded, Julian looked overwhelmed in his seat. As the class monitor, I was about to go over and maintain order, but I saw Chloe returning from the bathroom and stepping in front of Julian. “Nothing better to do? I just saw Mr. Davis in the lobby, heading this way.” Hearing the homeroom teacher was coming, the girls scattered back to their seats. Julian smiled shyly at Chloe in gratitude. I sheepishly pulled back the leg I was about to step forward with. A moment later, Mr. Davis did appear at the door. But he didn’t come in. Instead, he waved me over to the office to check some files. Standing in the office, mechanically searching through a stack of papers for my classmates’ tests… My mind was filled with the image from earlier: the girl in the blue and white uniform, backlit by the window, shielding the anxious boy behind her. And the boy looking at her with eyes full of gratitude and shyness. That must be what liking someone looks like. Sure enough, the male and female leads are destined to attract each other. It’s only the first day, and they’re already like positive and negative poles, rapidly closing the distance. I looked at the answer sheet I had absentmindedly flipped through and shook my head, trying to shake those unwanted emotions out of my brain. Walking home with Chloe that night, I was unusually silent, contrary to my usual chatterbox self. Surprisingly, Chloe, usually the listener, spoke first. “What’s wrong today? Something on your mind?” I looked up into her confused and concerned eyes. What should I say? That what I’m thinking about has to do with her? Growing up together for over ten years, this was the first time I hesitated to speak to her. After thinking for a while, I could only ask indirectly. “What do you think… of Julian Summerfield?” A flicker of confusion passed through Chloe’s eyes. “Why ask about him?” “Oh, you know, I’m the class monitor. Gotta get to know the classmates, makes communication easier later.” I lied with a laugh, but Chloe nodded understandingly. “Him? He’s nice. A very quiet guy.” It was a neutral comment, but my heart sank inexplicably. Freshman year, our parents suspected us of dating early. We sat between our two dads explaining for nearly an afternoon. But because Chloe said, “How could I like Ethan Vance? If I liked anyone, it would be a quiet guy.” I punched her several times right in front of our parents. That was also when the slight flutter in my adolescent heart for her was strangled in the cradle. My feelings for her were complicated. At least, I couldn’t figure them out myself. We were just childhood friends who grew up bickering. So why am I so sad right now? I didn’t speak again the whole way. She just walked quietly beside me. When we parted ways at our doors, she hesitated, then just said one thing. “See you tomorrow.” 3 Julian successfully integrated into the class. He was beautiful, kind, and had a great personality. Everyone liked him. Even I had to admit, he was a good guy. No wonder Chloe, usually so picky, liked him so much. Without my interference this time, their relationship would probably progress faster. And it did. In just a few days, the way Julian looked at Chloe changed noticeably. Julian wasn’t great at math, so Mr. Davis asked Chloe, his desk mate, to help tutor him. During that time, besides breaks, Chloe would stay late after school to tutor Julian in math. For several days, our walk home changed from the two of us to just me. I tried desperately to ignore the strange feeling in my heart. Studying until midnight every day, waking up at 5:30 AM sharp, washing up, breakfast, school. Being extremely busy seemed to make me forget the loss. Until a week later at dismissal, Chloe rarely rejected Julian’s tutoring request, quickly packed her bag, and ran to me. “Let’s go! Got my allowance today, treating you to hotpot.” I looked at her blankly. “Don’t you need to tutor him today?” Almost the instant the words left my mouth, I regretted it. What does it matter to me what she does? I sounded jealous. But Chloe didn’t mind at all, still smiling at me. “I don’t have to tutor him every day. I taught him what he needed. From now on, I can walk home with you every day again.” Seeing her smiling eyes, I was stunned for a moment. “O-okay. I’m on cleaning duty today, wait for me a sec.” Chloe wordlessly helped me with most of the work, grabbed her bag, and left the classroom with me. On the way, we happily discussed ordering two plates of beef brisket and a plate of shrimp paste. Just out of the school gate, we passed a secluded alley. It was the route Chloe and I took to school every day. Usually quiet. But today, from a distance, I heard voices and a boy crying. Exchanging a glance with Chloe, we simultaneously quickened our pace. At the alley entrance, we saw several hooligans surrounding a boy in our uniform. It was Julian. Seeing them getting handsy, Chloe charged straight in. She grabbed the wrist of a blond punk trying to touch him. “Ah! Hurt! Are you crazy? Let go of me!” Amidst the blond’s wailing, the others quickly surrounded me and Chloe. “Yo, another handsome guy? How about you play with us sisters, and we’ll let you go?” One of them scanned me up and down, whistling flirtatiously. Chloe grabbed her collar and lifted her up. The others moved to help, but I kicked out. To prevent us from being bullied, our parents sent us to learn kickboxing from a young age. We weren’t pros, but dealing with a few punks was more than enough. Soon, we had them on the ground. Except one didn’t fight fair, pulling a knife and slashing my arm. Chloe’s eyes turned red with rage. She picked that person up to punch them again, but I stopped her. That night, accompanied by Chloe and Julian, I went to the hospital to get stitched up. On the way, Julian kept thanking us. He was thanking both of us, but the way he looked at Chloe held something different. Admiration, and worship. In the end, we didn’t get hotpot. The doctor said my wound wasn’t serious but I needed to eat bland food. Chloe and I got home after 8 PM. My mom nagged me for an hour about the wound on my arm. 4 For a while after that, Julian was obviously more attentive to Chloe. When Chloe played basketball, he waited in the crowd to give her water. I don’t know if Chloe accepted it, but everyone could see Julian liked Chloe. Chloe herself didn’t react much to it. I studied desperately, moving only between school and home, squeezing out every second to learn. But sometimes, my brain uncontrollably thought about Chloe. That face, always gentle with me, only frowning even when angry, visited my dreams more and more frequently. Before, I didn’t want to admit it. But now, I clearly realized I really liked Chloe. But she’s the female lead. Destined to be with the male lead. And I’m just the villainous side character. Villains who like the heroine never have a good ending.

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I have a thing for possessive, controlling relationships. Sebastian Thorne, a master of this game, captured my heart. He was cold, distant, and always got his way. Until the day I told him I wanted to find a good man and settle down. On the surface, he was calm and indifferent. But that night, he tied me to the bed, crying and insisting he was a good man too. He claimed I ruined him. “If you didn’t like it like this, why would I do it? Who would want me now? I’m used goods! You ruined me! You played with my feelings! You’re fickle! It’s you! It’s all you!” Me: “…” 1 I am a classic “gold canary.” On the surface, I look weak and easily bullied. In reality, I am weak and easily bullied. [Clothes sent. Change into them. Driver will pick you up.] I stared at the message on my phone. I rolled around on the bed. That tone of notification, that unquestionable attitude, that cold message. I opened the package he sent. His taste was as extravagant as ever: luxurious dresses and blinding jewelry. I buried my face deep in the clothes and inhaled. So tacky. I love it. I typed back weakly: [Sebastian, I don’t like these.] [Put them on.] My heart pounded. So domineering. I love it even more. 2 Sebastian’s various business banquets couldn’t do without my assistance. Even though everyone said I was just a vase with beauty but no brains, offering no help to Sebastian. Whenever this happened, I would rest my chin on my hand, stare at the person until they were uncomfortable, and then ask cheekily, “So let me ask you, am I beautiful?” The person would look flustered but had to nod reluctantly and admit it. That’s enough then. The number one vase in the entertainment industry, with beauty but no substance, irreplaceable. Sebastian Thorne is lucky to have me. And he’s rich, handsome, and good at being controlling. If any of these conditions were missing, I might not have become his gold canary. 3 Sebastian stood at the entrance waiting for me to get out of the car. I lifted my skirt and walked over cheerfully, braking suddenly to change my expression, almost forgetting to control my face. I frowned slightly, squeezed out two tears, looking sentimental. “Sebastian.” Sebastian didn’t spare me a glance. “Let’s go.” As expected, cold and distant. He extended his hand just now but pulled it back. I assumed he was shocked speechless by my beauty and remembered his identity as my sugar daddy. After all, as a sugar daddy, it would be losing face to personally take care of a canary. I went up and took his arm. Entering the hall, everyone’s expressions varied. Some came over to curry favor with Sebastian, not forgetting to compliment me beside him. “Miss Winters is young and beautiful, gentle and considerate. She looks very compatible with Mr. Thorne.” Maybe they ran out of words. Using the word “compatible” made me fear Sebastian would bankrupt them with a single sentence. The person couldn’t read Sebastian’s expression and could only force themselves to praise my successful career. Successful career… he really knows how to praise. I’m a D-list celebrity, and the two variety show gigs I got were resources Sebastian threw my way. So I pursed my lips and smiled: “You really know how to talk.” Sebastian glanced at me lightly. I understood. This meant shut up. During the break, I hid on the second-floor balcony, bored, looking at the scenery outside the railing. Being rich is nice. A little breeze, a little view, a little coffee. “Willow Winters!” I turned around and saw a cute and playful girl gritting her teeth and staring at me. She said angrily: “You’re very proud, aren’t you?” What do you mean? I gestured for her to continue. “Don’t think just because you’re with Sebastian now, you can be with him forever. Whenever I want, Sebastian can kick you out anytime!” I remembered. It’s said Sebastian had a childhood sweetheart. Their families were close enough to arrange a marriage, but Sebastian wasn’t interested in her. Obviously, he’s more interested in a glamorous vase like me. “You like Sebastian?” Lily Moon blushed. “What nonsense are you talking about!” “You like Sebastian, but you have no chance.” Lily was shy just now, but hearing this, her face darkened. “Who do you think you are? Just a sell-out. Do you really think Sebastian takes you seriously? Believe it or not, I can make him blacklist you right now!” Such ugly words. I slapped her. Slap! She covered her face in disbelief. Why would I need Sebastian to take me seriously? “Your brother cares about looks,” I smiled, pointing to my face. “He likes this face. You can get plastic surgery to look like this. If you have a dirty mouth again, ten slaps.” Besides, being weak and easily bullied presupposes Sebastian is present. Strike the heart. Lily screamed and tried to tear my face. The commotion here attracted people. Sebastian and another young man walked over. Lily cried instantly, throwing herself into Sebastian’s arms saying I bullied her and asking him to kick me out. The innocent rich girl and the cold, domineering CEO standing together indeed had a special flavor. Sebastian pushed her aside. Looked at me. I looked back at him. After a while, a tear fell, and I turned my head away. That tear hit the soft carpet silently. Sebastian stepped forward and took my hand, took off his jacket, and draped it over me. The jacket had his faint scent. “Put it on.” I was surprised and tried to struggle, but Sebastian was too strong. Sebastian frowned: “Don’t move.” I quieted down. My eyes were still red. Sebastian touched my face with his hand. I instinctively dodged. He froze for a second, then unquestioningly turned my face back. The thin calluses on his fingertips hurt my cheek a little. I hissed. Gently stepped on his foot. Sebastian was expressionless, ordered the driver to take me back, and took the screaming Lily downstairs himself. The young man beside him raised an eyebrow slightly. I glanced at him preparing to leave. As we passed each other, a business card fell precisely into my bag. 4 Poaching right in front of Sebastian. Very bold. As soon as Sebastian came back, I crumpled the card and threw it in the trash. He loosened his tie, pulled me from the sofa, and kissed me fiercely and urgently. A messy kiss. “Sebastian.” I was bitten a bit painfully, wanted to push him away, but couldn’t. Sebastian’s eyes were deep. When he stared down, I actually felt my scalp tingle. “You cried today.” I recalled. I did squeeze out two crocodile tears when battling tea skills with Lily today. I opened my mouth to pretend to be pitiful again. Sebastian: “Cry again.” Me: “…” He seemed to find it interesting, his thumb rubbing my face constantly. “Cry.” I blinked desperately, eyes red, forcing out a bit of tears. Sebastian was satisfied. “Beautiful.” A concise psycho.

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