The night Joseph Merton was crowned the youngest astrophysicist of his generation, he didn’t give an acceptance speech. Instead, he confessed his love to a girl named Clara Leigh. “There are only two constants in my universe,” he said. “Physics, and her.” But for me, the girl in question, the grand declaration barely stirred a ripple in my heart. I booked a flight to another country, planning to never see him again. No one knew that this was my fifth life. It was the fifth time I had heard his confession, and the fourth time I had lived through his betrayal. This time, I decided to push him toward the woman destined to be the true love of his life—the one who wasn’t supposed to appear for another three years. 1 Crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant, fractured light across the hall. The red carpet stretched out before me, flanked by opulent bouquets of flowers. At the center of the stage, Joseph’s eyes were shining with an adoration I knew all too well. “Clara,” he began, his voice amplified throughout the grand hall, “the atoms of the universe are never truly destroyed. And we… we will be together for eternity.” The room erupted. Thunderous applause and envious gazes crashed over me in a wave. I forced the corners of my mouth into a smile, but my expression felt like a mask of ice. Across the sea of people, Joseph’s gaze was a tender caress. He grinned and raised his award toward me. “I want to share this honor with you. Not just for this moment, but for the rest of our lives.” He was radiant, a man at the pinnacle of his world. He moved through the clamoring crowd, his eyes locked on mine. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice finally close enough for only me to hear. I flinched, taking an involuntary step back. In my mind, a chorus of ghosts began to speak. The first Joseph: “I’ve fallen in love with her. Clara, thank you for everything.” The second Joseph: “I’m sorry. Ava needs me.” The Joseph standing before me now reached out, pulling me into a hug that felt like a cage. “Marry me,” he whispered against my hair. The third Joseph: He shoved me away, his face a mask of cold fury. “Let’s get a divorce.” A tremor ran through me, and I wrenched myself from his embrace. “If I say yes,” I began, my voice hollow, “you’ll only end up hating me for it.” He mistook my words for a test of his resolve. His gaze burned with intensity. “Clara, for the rest of my life, I will only be captivated by you.” But just a minute ago, in a life that had ended in a sterile hospital room, the fourth Joseph had told me with chilling finality: “Clara, I’m done with you. If there’s a next life, I only want to love Ava.” The people around us began to chant, their voices blurring together. “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!” Joseph’s tall frame slowly lowered before me, his left knee touching the ground. “This is the most important question I will ever ask.” He looked nervous, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled out a ring box. “Will you marry me?” “Please, just let me go, will you?” a different Joseph, from a different lifetime, had once begged me. But not yet. We hadn’t reached that point yet, where we would claw at each other like mortal enemies, our faces twisted with hate. Right now, we were still the golden couple, the envy of our circle. Our last breakup deserved to be a clean one. My face was a numb mask as I gave a stiff nod. “I will.” I had answered him with sincerity four times before. I had fought with every fiber of my being to hold onto the genuine love he felt in this exact moment. But every single time, I had failed, my efforts ending in tragedy, only to be reborn at this same starting line. I was tired. I didn’t want to walk that path again. Joseph carefully slid the ring onto my finger, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. A tide of affection rose in his amber eyes. But when he looked up, he met my gaze, and it was the gaze of a complete stranger. The moment our eyes met, his breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. 2 Joseph scrambled to his feet, his hands gripping my shoulders. I kept my head down, a statue of unwilling compliance. Finally, he settled for second best, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. In the car on the way home, he cast a sideways glance at me. “Is my little ostrich still sulking about the pajamas from last night?” The casual intimacy in his voice caught me off guard for a second. In this timeline, at this moment, our biggest fight was over something so trivial. A cool breeze rushed through the half-open window. The silhouettes of trees and guardrails blurred and receded, time rewinding at a dizzying pace. Now I remembered. I had bought a matching set of pink couple’s pajamas, hoping he would wear them with me. He’d refused. Said he hated the color. I had been hurt. It was just for wearing around the house. My frustration wasn’t about the pajamas, but about his unwillingness to bend, even for something so small. Joseph leaned over and wrapped his arms around me. “Babe, that color is just too bright. I wouldn’t feel comfortable. How about we exchange them for black ones? They’re cool, and they’ll make your skin look even paler.” But three years from now, to make Ava Mills happy, he would put on a bright pink Hello Kitty hoodie. “Alright, alright, I’ll wear it for you,” his ghost-voice would say. “Anything for my little princess. But in exchange, tonight…” I clenched my fists, a bitter smile touching my lips. Love could not withstand comparison. The moment you start comparing, you’ve already lost. Utterly and completely. “I’ll return the pajamas,” I said, gently pushing him away. I smoothed the sleeve of my dress, my voice soft. “I’m starting to understand. What you want should always be the priority.” And so now, I would bring Ava to him ahead of schedule. 3 “Let’s visit our old university,” I suggested. Ava was a freshman there right now. Joseph blinked, then a look of relief washed over his face. He gave me a placating smile. “Of course. Whatever my future wife wants.” A faint curve touched my lips, but my eyes were devoid of warmth. The first time, I was the one who met Ava first. She was a new intern at my company, the big boss’s niece. She had a talent for creating chaos. She lost a colleague’s expense report, unilaterally altered a finalized project proposal, and once, while cat-sitting, fed the cat grapes. The cat went into acute kidney failure and didn’t make it. I had complained to Joseph about every single incident. I thought he would share my disdain and keep his distance. Then came the day she borrowed my car to deliver a file and ended up in a fender bender. I was at my wit’s end with her. I asked Joseph to handle the insurance claim and damages. That one time was all it took. They added each other as contacts. In their chat history, she asked him for help fixing her computer, revising her proposals, choosing a topic for her graduation thesis… Their connection grew quietly, nurtured by her constant requests and his need to be needed. And just like that, they drifted together. Sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder. Was I too independent? Was it because I rarely showed vulnerability or asked for help that I pushed him toward Ava, who needed him, who looked up to him, who created messes for him to clean up? I had meticulously avoided every single opportunity for them to meet. But it was as if they were fated, their love an inevitable conclusion. 4 On the main path of the campus, a young Ava Mills walked right into my line of sight, as if summoned. I calmly sent Joseph away on an errand. Then, I walked toward her. This time, I didn’t raise my hand to slap her. Instead, I bumped her shoulder. And then, I stumbled, falling dramatically to the ground. My phone flew from my hand, crashing onto the pavement with a sickening crack. The screen spiderwebbed into a thousand pieces. Ava’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! I was just talking to my friend, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay? I’ll pay for the phone, I’m so, so sorry!” She frantically took all the blame, her panic genuine. Perhaps it was that almost foolish brand of kindness that made Joseph fall for her so completely. A moment later, Joseph was there, his hand enclosing mine. “How could you be so careless?” I watched him like a spectator at a play, my gaze cool and detached. His attention was entirely on me; he hadn’t spared Ava a single glance. But Ava was staring, her eyes fixed on the way he was helping me up. “Who… who are you to her?” she asked abruptly. It was an absurd question. We were wearing matching couple’s watches on our intertwined wrists. But she had to ask, as if she couldn’t accept the obvious answer, clinging to a sliver of hope that she might hear a denial. Joseph, completely focused on me, brushed the dust from my clothes. He replied to her politely, “I’m her fiancé.” A sudden laugh escaped me. “We’re not married yet,” I said, my voice light. Then I turned to the girl. “Sweetheart, if you like him… feel free to shoot your shot.” Ava’s eyes instantly turned red. I couldn’t tell if it was because of Joseph’s answer or my mocking words. She looked down, stammering, “Ma’am, your phone is broken… I just wanted to get his contact info so I can pay you back. Please… don’t get the wrong idea.” Joseph’s brow furrowed. “Clara, what are you talking about? She’s just a kid. It was an accident, and she’s already apologized. How could you say something so flippant and embarrass her?” So soon. The protectiveness was already showing. I raised an eyebrow at him and smiled. “It was just a joke.” He was still displeased. “It was disrespectful. She’s a student. Forget about the payment. I’ll buy you a new phone. Don’t give her a hard time.” I looked down at the tips of my shoes, my voice soft but firm. “Add her, Joseph. Don’t fight destiny.” Ava eagerly held out her phone. “Mr. Merton, I can afford to pay. Just because I’m a student doesn’t mean you should have to cover my mistakes. That would be… bad for my values.” Joseph was silent for a moment. Finally, with the crisp chime of a notification, he added her as a contact. 5 Ava stared at him, her eyes shining with an unconcealable joy. “My name is Ava Mills,” she said, her voice clear and bright, as if making a formal declaration. I placed a hand over my heart. There was no pain. In the past, this scene would have driven me mad. But now, I felt nothing but a profound calm. I could even manage a friendly, easy smile, my eyes curving as I met Joseph’s gaze when he instinctively looked back at me. We went home. Joseph wouldn’t let it go. “Clara, what did you mean by ‘shoot your shot’? Was that really a joke? I still can’t believe you would say something like that to a girl you just met.” A sudden surge of rage washed over me. I swept my arm out, knocking the water glass beside him to the floor. The porcelain shattered, the sound sharp and hopeless, like the final state of our relationship—a complete mess. “Clara, what the hell are you doing?” I flinched, my shoulders hunching reflexively. He had yelled at me like that, with that exact booming volume, so many times before. I was afraid of it. But in the next instant, he was on one knee before me, his hands gently cradling my foot. “Does it hurt?” His thumb carefully wiped away a tiny bead of blood from a small cut. “I just… I feel like you don’t care about me anymore.” He looked up at me, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with a potent mix of pain, regret, and a pleading that was almost desperate. “Don’t punish me by hurting yourself. I can’t take it.” His eyes reddened, and my heart gave a sudden, sharp pang. This. This was why I could never let go. I had tried so many things to save him. In the first life, after discovering his affair, I screamed and cursed him. In the second, I subtly maneuvered to keep him and Ava from ever meeting. In the third, I poked holes in the condoms and got pregnant on purpose. In the fourth, I threw myself in front of him, taking a knife that was meant for him. But none of it worked. He always fell in love with Ava. He grew tired of talking to me. He avoided my touch. In the end, even the sound of my breathing seemed to irritate him. In every life, faced with his disgust, I would fall apart. “Joseph, you promised you would love me forever!” But he would just stare at me, his expression cold as I broke down. “You’re pathetic, Clara. Utterly pathetic.” I would glare at him through tear-swollen eyes and curse him with all the venom I could muster. “Anyone who betrays a heart like mine deserves to die a horrible death!” But the one who died, again and again, was me. First life: suicide by slitting my wrists, driven by depression. Second life: hit by a drunk driver, my mind too clouded with grief to react. Third life: bled out from a miscarriage. Fourth life: died from post-operative complications. My heart clenched, and suddenly the world tilted. I was being lifted into Joseph’s warm embrace. He held me securely, one arm around my back, the other under my knees. My head rested near his neck, just above his heart. He gently placed me on the sofa and retrieved the first-aid kit. He meticulously disinfected the tiny scratch, then lifted my ankle and blew softly on the wound. We were so close. So intimate. And that was why his eventual coldness was so unbearable. His touch was gentle as he carefully applied a cartoon-themed bandage to the cut. “If you’re still angry, just hit me, okay?” He didn’t know yet. Some wounds, the ones etched into your soul, could never be healed by a simple bandage. “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was impulsive. It won’t happen again.” I had already seen the future. I knew this love of his, so intense right now, would evaporate like morning dew. 6 Our wedding date drew closer. The changes in Joseph began to surface, small at first. One morning at breakfast, I stood up to get more coffee. He quickly turned his phone screen off and placed it face down on the table. I had seen this scene four times before. It was painfully familiar. One evening, he abruptly left, claiming he had to work late. At the same time, a new message popped up on his still-logged-in laptop. A message he had just sent: “Don’t be scared. I’m on my way.” The message above it was a voice note from Ava: “Joseph… I think someone is following me…” I calmly began packing away all of my out-of-season clothes and mailed them to my parents’ house. When Joseph returned, he was holding a stuffed animal. He handed it to me, his gesture a little stiff. “Saw this on the way home… thought it was cute… so I bought it.” Like an audience member who already knew the entire plot, I accepted it with a knowing smile. Then, I quietly moved all the gifts I had ever given him into a cardboard box in the corner. A few days later, another request from Ava arrived. “Joseph, there’s this guy who won’t stop harassing me, no matter how many times I turn him down. Could you please, please pretend to be my boyfriend? I thought about it, and you’re the only person I know who could pull it off. You’re so outstanding and impressive, if he sees you, he’ll actually believe me and give up.” Soon after, I saw her post online. “Happily taken. Please keep your distance.” The photo showed her holding a bouquet of flowers, her head resting intimately on Joseph’s shoulder, her smile radiant. I raised an eyebrow and booked a one-way ticket to Norway for myself. Later, on the collar of one of his white dress shirts, I found the faint, tell-tale smudge of red lipstick. I acted as if I hadn’t seen it and tossed the shirt into the laundry. This was child’s play. In previous lives, I had received bed photos from Ava and found her lace panties in the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Those were the kinds of provocations designed to stab you straight through the heart. I didn’t expect the lipstick to be so high-quality that it wouldn’t wash out. Joseph stared at the lingering stain, his expression dark. I quickly tried to cover for him. “Maybe… maybe I smudged it by accident?” “You haven’t even hugged me lately.” His voice was low, heavy with a suppressed accusation. “You’ve been so cold to me.” My face was a blank canvas. I replied with the same practiced excuses he used to give me. “I’ve just been really tired.” “Babe… are you getting cold feet about the wedding?” he asked, his voice laced with anxiety as I stood before the mirror in my wedding dress. He looked at my emotionless reflection, his own face etched with worry. He was about to say more, but his phone rang, shattering the moment. Ava’s tear-choked voice came clearly through the receiver. “Joseph… my roommate and I got into a fight… she accidentally stabbed me…” “The dean wants me to call my parents, but I don’t want them to worry. Can you… can you come and stay with me for a bit?” Joseph’s tension was palpable. “Is it serious?” He hesitated, looking at me. “Clara, I…” On the other end of the line, Ava must have heard my name. “Is… is she there with you? Please, don’t get the wrong idea. I really had no one else to turn to. You’re such a good person, please don’t fight because of me.” Her voice sounded incredibly weak. “Never mind, I’ll just call my parents…” Joseph removed the groom’s boutonnière from his lapel. “I’ll just go check on her. I’ll be back soon. Can you handle things here for a bit?” The ceremony was about to begin, and he was ready to abandon his bride and all our guests to run to another woman’s side. It was my cue to make a graceful exit. To finally let fate have its way. “Okay,” I said, not even looking up. My fingers were already flying across my phone screen, changing my flight to today. “We’ll talk properly later,” he said. “No need.” My voice was too quiet. He was in too much of a hurry. He didn’t hear me, and he didn’t look back. I turned, walked onto the stage, and picked up the microphone. “I’m sorry, everyone. The wedding is cancelled.” I rushed home and packed my few remaining clothes into a suitcase. Then I picked up the cardboard box full of memories. The box went into the dumpster. The suitcase went to the airport. There were no goodbyes. Without a backward glance, I walked down the jet bridge.

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The day Finnian Blackwood forced the divorce papers on me, I was bound to the Dare-to-Die System. The System’s voice echoed in my head: “Slap him across the face and tell him to get lost.” I trembled. Finn was a ruthless man. If I dared to stand between him and his first love, he would tear me apart without a second thought. But the System’s threat was more immediate: “If you don’t follow the dare, you will die. Now.” I had no choice. I swung my hand back and slapped him. My heart hammered in my chest. I turned and fled the house before he could react. Then the System issued its next command: Vandalize the police car parked on the corner. I was certain the System was trying to get me killed. But it was only after I smashed the cruiser’s side mirror that I understood. The life the System wanted me to risk wasn’t my own. 1 I stared at the police car, my mind reeling. “No way. That’s a crime!” “Take the dare, or you die,” the voice in my head repeated, cold and unyielding. I hadn’t believed it at first. The voice had appeared out of nowhere half an hour ago, informing me that I was the tragic heroine of a novel designed for heartbreak. According to the System, after Finn’s childhood sweetheart, Sienna Vance, returned to the country, I would be kicked to the curb. I was destined for a series of heart-wrenching abuses—forced blood donations, having a kidney stolen—before being left to a gang of thugs and dying a miserable death. A shiver went down my spine. Sienna had returned last month. And this month, Finn had started staying out late. He’d stare right through me, lost in thought. I found a lipstick in his coat pocket that wasn’t mine. He started taking his calls in another room. I knew this sham of a marriage was over. Today, he’d handed me the divorce papers. “Sienna won’t see me,” he’d said, his voice flat. “She says it’s improper now that I’m married. You know her health is fragile. She can’t be left alone.” “Isla, just sign the papers.” I scanned the document. There was no mention of any assets for me. My own savings were long gone, spent during the two years I supported Finn while he rebuilt his empire from scratch. For the past few years, he’d insisted I stay home, embarrassed by my humble origins. If he threw me out now, I wouldn’t have enough money for dinner. I had wanted to reason with him, but the System had commanded me to slap him instead. Everyone knew the new Finn Blackwood was a ruthless shark who’d clawed his way back from bankruptcy. That slap was a literal death wish. “Smash it! Now!” the System urged. Terrified that the System’s predictions would come true, I grabbed a loose brick from the pavement and brought it down hard on the cruiser’s side mirror. With a sickening crunch, the mirror shattered and fell to the ground. An alarm blared. Three officers burst out from around the corner. I immediately raised my hands, ready to surrender. They cuffed me and took me to the precinct. In the interrogation room, an officer held up my blood test results. “No alcohol, no drugs. Mentally stable. So why’d you smash a police car? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I recited the lines the System fed me. “I know exactly what I was doing. It was deliberate.” A young female officer looked at me, exasperated. “What’s wrong with you? Bad breakup?” “Not a breakup,” I said honestly. “A divorce.” The thought of prison food made my eyes well up with tears. The officer cleared her throat. “Full restitution for damages, a $1,000 fine, and ten days in detention. Call your family. And don’t do it again.” I dutifully handed over my bank cards, but each one was declined. Finn was already teaching me a lesson. The officers told me to call a family member. I tried Finn’s number ten times. No answer. On the eleventh try, I discovered he had blocked me. The female officer used the precinct’s landline. The moment she said my name, Finn cut her off. His voice, which had once been so gentle, was now like ice shards. “Isla? Call me again when she’s dead.” The officers exchanged uneasy glances. The female officer checked my records again. The file read: Orphan. Her expression hardened. “Take her to the holding cells.” The ten days passed faster than I expected. I was too busy with mandatory “re-education” programs to think much about Finn. When I got my phone back, it was flooded with missed calls from Finn and his assistant. I called him back. “Where the hell are you?” he snarled. “The file from my office drawer—where did you hide it?!” 2 I blinked, confused. “What file?” “You have thirty minutes to bring it back,” he seethed. “If you don’t, I’m calling the cops. Isla, don’t you dare test my patience.” I was completely lost. I looked at the female officer beside me. She had heard everything and held out her hand for my phone. She took it and spoke in a stern, official tone. “Mr. Blackwood, your wife was just released from detention and still has an outstanding fine. If you’d like to file a report, you can come directly to the precinct.” To my shock, Finn let out a cold laugh. “Isla, I’m not in the mood for your games.” He hung up. I didn’t know what was going on, but the officers told me to wait while they contacted Finn to come and pay the fine. Half an hour later, Finn stormed in, his face a thundercloud. He was grilling the officer. “Are you telling me she’s been in here for the last ten days? She hasn’t gone anywhere?” “Believe what you want,” the officer snapped. “Just pay the fine.” On the way to his office, I pieced together the story from Finn’s conversation with his assistant. Yesterday, the tender proposal in his drawer had vanished. It was for the company’s biggest and most confidential project of the year. Finn had the only final copy. The bid was due tomorrow. “A file that important has no backup?” I asked. The assistant whispered, “Ms. Vance accidentally spilled water on Mr. Blackwood’s laptop. The hard drive is completely fried.” Finn’s voice was a low warning. “Sienna already feels terrible about it. She’s sensitive. You are not to mention this in front of her.” The entire office was in a state of panic, everyone scrambling. The only person who was relaxed was Sienna, who was sitting in Finn’s chair, casually browsing the internet. When she saw me, she strode over with a bright smile. “Finn, you found Isla! Did you get the file back?” She took his hand and gave it a little swing. “I told you she was just angry and took it to get back at you. You can stop worrying about the bid now.” Finn’s expression was strange. He said nothing. Sienna’s smile faltered. Her gaze shifted to me. “Isla, you didn’t… lose the file, did you?” When I didn’t answer, her brow furrowed. “Isla, I heard Finn asked for a divorce. I know he was wrong, and you must be upset. But you shouldn’t have taken the company’s documents. So many people worked hard on that.” She changed her tone to one of gentle persuasion. “Just give it back. I’ve already talked to Finn. He won’t press charges.” “She didn’t take it,” Finn ground out. Sienna looked stunned. “How is that possible…?” Just then, the System issued a new command. “Slap her. Now!” How could I possibly touch Finn’s precious darling? But then, it clicked. The System had made me smash the police car to create a perfect alibi. It wasn’t trying to hurt me. Understanding dawned. I put every ounce of strength I had into my arm and swung, slapping Sienna hard across the face. “Such an act!” I spat out the lines the System provided. “Who do you think you are, sticking your nose in other people’s business? If you’re so concerned, maybe you should start by keeping your eyes off married men! You knew I couldn’t have the file, so you deliberately fanned the flames. I bet you’re the one who stole it!” The air froze. Sienna clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You…” I slapped her again. “‘You’ what?! Don’t talk to me. I don’t converse with morally bankrupt homewreckers. It’s disgusting.” “Isla, are you insane?” Finn finally reacted, grabbing my wrist. Following the System’s next directive, I snatched the water glass from his desk and threw its contents in his face. The hot liquid drenched him. Finn froze. 3 He stared at me as if I were a complete stranger. “What’s happened to you? If I had known you were this unreasonable, back then I…” “If I had known you were no better than a public toilet,” I cut him off, “I never would have saved you!” Years ago, when the Blackwood family went bankrupt, Finn’s father had jumped from a skyscraper, and his mother had followed. His creditors had broken his leg and thrown him into the sea. I was a girl from a small coastal town, out on my fishing boat, and I pulled him from the water. I thought two lonely people could at least find some warmth in each other. But Sienna’s return had turned our eight-year marriage into a joke. The System’s spoilers and interventions had thrown my world into chaos. For the first time, looking at the drenched, pathetic man before me, I regretted saving him. Suddenly, Sienna shrieked. She stumbled, clutching the desk for support. “Finn, I feel dizzy.” Without even wiping the water from his face, Finn turned and swept her up into his arms. He didn’t spare me a single glance as he carried her to the sofa. I turned to leave, but he stopped me. “She fainted because of you. Don’t you move!” He buzzed his private doctor. After listening to Finn’s instructions, the doctor wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Mr. Blackwood, while Mrs. Blackwood and Ms. Vance both have Type A blood, anemia doesn’t necessarily require a transfusion. And even if it did, we could…” “That’s too much trouble,” Finn’s voice was glacial. “Isla laid a hand on her. She can damn well take responsibility. Just draw her blood.” “Don’t just stand there,” the System prompted. “It’s time for a dare.” I pinched my palm, then threw open the office door. “Urgently seeking Type A blood!” I yelled to the stunned employees outside. “Ten thousand dollars a pint!” I turned back to meet Finn’s shocked gaze. “What, you’re not willing to part with a little cash?” People began to gather. “Mr. Blackwood, ma’am, I’m Type A! I even have my donor card. Is it really ten thousand a pint?” I smiled. “Mr. Blackwood is very anxious to save Ms. Vance. The more, the merrier.” With that, I pushed through the crowd and went home. Following the System’s guidance, I spent the afternoon drafting a new divorce agreement. Finn came home at two in the morning. He smelled of lilies. He had forgotten I was allergic. He picked up my version of the agreement and let out a series of derisive snorts. “Isla, are you out of your mind? Demanding I leave with nothing?” He tossed a form on the table in front of me. An organ donation consent form. “No more tricks. Either you sign this, or I’ll have someone sign it for you.” I opened it. It was for my kidney, of course. Finn started scribbling changes on my divorce agreement. “Sienna’s having some health issues. Help her, and consider it helping me. As a thank you, I’ll give you a million dollars.” He stared at me coldly. “Don’t be so greedy. It makes me wonder if you had ulterior motives for saving me all those years ago.” Perhaps he was overconfident. He went into the master bedroom to sleep, leaving me in the living room. A cold wind blew in from the window, chilling me to the bone. Following the System’s instructions, I went into the study and turned on the computer. Finn’s social media password was easy to guess: the date Sienna left the country. He had, after all, once tattooed those numbers on his ankle. I took a picture of the organ donation form and posted it online. The caption read: Seeking a matching kidney. One million dollars. Serious inquiries only. Below, I listed Finn’s personal phone number.

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On the eve of the New Year, a firework dart, tipped with barbs, pierced my shoulder and lodged itself in my body. Before they could rush me into surgery, the doctor looked at the two men who had hurried in with me and asked for a family member to sign the consent forms. Both of them lunged for the pen, nearly coming to blows. One was my husband. The other was my brother. “I’ll sign,” my husband, Scott, said, “but only if you agree to a sham divorce first. Willow was terrified tonight. A divorce certificate will calm her down.” “Sign it or don’t. I’ll do it,” my brother, Chris, snapped back. “Fine,” Scott retorted, “but you have to promise that when Evelyn wakes up, she won’t press charges over the arrow. It was just a girl who couldn’t handle being yelled at. She didn’t mean to do it.” A weak, bitter laugh escaped my lips. With the last of my strength, I motioned the doctor closer. “Don’t save me.” Whether I lived or died… it didn’t matter anymore. … The argument in front of the emergency room doors raged on, but it wasn’t about who should sign as next of kin. It wasn’t about the fact that I was in critical condition and needed immediate surgery. Scott Vance and Chris Shay stood on either side of my gurney, each man blocking one of the wheels, preventing it from moving forward. We were inches from the operating room, but it might as well have been a world away. The arrow, armed with five barbed hooks at its tip, had entered through my right shoulder and traveled horizontally across my body. The tip was now resting perilously close to my heart on the left side. The doctor was sweating profusely, knowing better than anyone what every passing second meant for me. He tried to intervene, but a single glare from the two of them silenced him. This was the Vance family’s hospital, after all. No one would dare overstep. In his hand, Scott held a divorce agreement. In his, Chris held a legal waiver, a promise not to press charges. Each man was desperate to shove his pen into my still-conscious hand, competing to see who could get my signature first. They were eager to run back and report their success to the “traumatized” little girl, Willow. Staring at the two documents shoved in my face, I managed a breathless smile. I asked them a completely nonsensical question. “Tonight, you threw a party for Willow to celebrate 148 days since you met her. Why… why did it have to be today?” A day earlier, a day later—it would have been just another meaningless number to them. So why today? With the arrow still inside me, every word was an agony. But I was deceiving myself. One last gamble. Just one more. Maybe one of them would remember what today was. Scott remained silent. Chris’s fist tightened and relaxed at his side, his impatience a palpable force. “We just wanted to make Willow happy. It’s that simple. Can you stop wasting time? What’s the point of this?” The raucous laughter from that party, the blinding colored lights, the adoring smiles on my husband’s and my brother’s faces—that was the fuse that had lit my rage. I had crashed the party, shattering the joyful atmosphere. Everyone had called me a lunatic. Scott and Chris had shielded Willow behind them. “If you’re going to be crazy, go do it at home! Don’t embarrass us here!” I had looked only at Willow’s triumphant face. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You’re disgusting.” In front of the two men, her expression shifted seamlessly into one of profound sorrow. “Why… why does my sister have to say such cruel things to me? Is it so wrong to want to be with the people I love?” The two men she had just claimed as her own blushed. “I thought I finally had a family! Why does she still hate me so much? Why?” And then, under the guise of an emotional breakdown, she had fired the firework dart at me. Even as the arrow pierced my flesh, Scott had pinned my arms down, terrified I would lash out and hurt his precious darling. He had stared at me, his eyes filled with a deep, chilling disappointment. “Why?” he’d asked. “How did you become this person? You’re vile.” As they were loading me onto the stretcher, Willow had insisted on seeing me. She had leaned in close, her voice a triumphant whisper in my ear. “Sister, you know what today is, don’t you? I’m celebrating for you. It’s the one-year anniversary of your and Scott’s baby’s death. Too bad they don’t remember. Only I do. You should thank me, really.” Unable to lift my hands, I had lunged forward and bitten her ear. For that, Scott had nearly crushed my jaw. And now, it was the reason they both felt so justified in forcing these papers on me. I deserved this. It’s almost funny. Willow, my long-lost twin sister, had only recently been found. Snatched at birth by an enemy of the family, our parents had spent their lives searching for her. That unresolved grief had ultimately led to their early deaths. On their deathbeds, they had made my brother and me swear an oath. If we ever found her, we would spend our lives making it up to her. And I had intended to. When we found Willow, I believed she had suffered too much. I was ready to give her everything. But from the moment she saw me, she was hostile. At first, Scott noticed it. Whenever I tried to bring him to my family home, he would resist, needing to be coaxed and placated. When he saw Willow, he wouldn’t even spare her a glance. “Babe,” he’d say, “I’m not going to be nice to someone who isn’t nice to my girl.” Chris was always caught in the middle, awkwardly trying to smooth things over. But somewhere along the line, it had changed. “Evelyn,” Scott had said one day, “Chris and I are taking Willow to Disneyland for a few days. You’ve been so many times, why don’t you just stay home? You know how sensitive she is. She thinks you don’t like her. Maybe you’ve been too harsh. She won’t have any fun if you’re there. Chris feels the same way, he was just afraid you’d be upset, so he asked me to tell you.” Then later: “I don’t understand you. This should be a happy thing, having your sister back, but you act like you wish she’d never been found. If Willow hadn’t told me, I would never have known you were bullying her in private, telling her to go back where she came from. I’m leaving. You need to think about what you’ve done.” He had left, his eyes filled with disappointment. I had held my tongue. I didn’t demand a confrontation, didn’t ask when, exactly, I had ever bullied her. Let it go, I told myself. Don’t ruin the mood. Just endure it. I remembered the oath my parents had made me take alone. Your sister has suffered. You’ve had twenty more years of happiness than she has. You have to be good to her. Otherwise, we’ll never forgive you, even in heaven. So I let her have her way. Until the day I found her in bed with Scott. The blood rushed to my head, and the world spun. I was blind with rage. I slapped her. In return, I received a slap from Scott, and another from Chris, who had rushed in after me. Chris was furious. “Willow told me you were tormenting her behind my back, forbidding her from getting close to me. I didn’t believe her. I guess you’re finally showing your true colors. She suffered for over twenty years, and when she finally comes home, she has to deal with a sister like you. Evelyn, do you think Mom and Dad are proud of you right now? If I could choose, I’d wish it was you who was taken all those years ago!” I stood frozen, tears streaming down my face. Scott held Willow, comforting her gently. He glanced at my tears, his expression cold. “Stop crying. Willow isn’t crying, so why should you? It’s not surprising that I fell for her. She’s a wonderful person. What you and I had was just a product of growing up together, an illusion. If you were the one who was taken and then returned, I would never have fallen for someone so vile. So don’t blame Willow. It’s not her fault. I should be grateful I’ve finally seen who you really are.” Looking at the victorious glint in Willow’s eyes, I suddenly understood. She didn’t love Scott or Chris. She just hated me. She hated that she was the one who was taken, that I had enjoyed a life of privilege she was denied. My pain was her pleasure. And the guilt the world felt for her was her ultimate weapon. I didn’t even have the right to fight back. And so, on that day, I lost my husband and my brother. If it weren’t for tonight, I probably would never have seen them fight over me again. Once, they fought over who got to spend time with me. Now, they fought over which paper I should sign first so they could run back and comfort Willow. At that moment, both of their phones rang simultaneously. “Scott… Chris…” It was Willow, her voice choked with tears. “I’m so scared. The blood… it got all over me, and I can’t wash it off…” “When they were putting my sister on the stretcher, I wanted to come with you, but… but she said that as soon as she’s okay, she’s going to kill me. What do I do? I really didn’t mean it. I’m so worried about her…” She sobbed and whimpered, then forced a brave tone for the two men on the other end, who were no doubt dying to fly back to her side. “Sometimes I think my sister is so lucky. She has both of you caring about her so much. I have nothing. And any little thing I do get, she forces me to give it back.” “It’s okay, you don’t have to rush back. I’ll be fine on my own…” “I’m going to go find a hundred of those firework darts, the kind I accidentally hurt her with. She said when she gets better, she wants to shoot all of them at me. As long as it makes her feel better, I’ll do anything.” By the time the call ended, Scott’s and Chris’s faces were black with rage. Chris was the first to snap. He suddenly lunged forward and wrapped his hands around my neck. “Why? Why are you like this?” he hissed, his face contorted. “Why can’t you just accept her? It was an accident! A hundred arrows? Are you trying to kill her? Evelyn, how could you be my sister? How could our family produce someone so rotten?!” The pressure was immense. His movement jostled the arrow inside me. The barbs and hooks twisted in my flesh. It probably wasn’t a normal firework dart at all. I choked, spitting up blood. Scott finally intervened, grabbing Chris’s arm. “Calm down. Are you trying to kill her?” My heart, already turned to ash, flickered with a faint, secret hope. Maybe… maybe he couldn’t bear to see me die. “If you kill her now, who’s going to sign the papers?” Scott continued, his voice cold. “Are you going to forget about comforting Willow? If Evelyn dies now, Willow will blame herself for the rest of her life. Do you want her to live with that shadow forever?” Once Chris was pacified, Scott finally spared me a glance. I was still coughing up blood, the crimson staining half my face. The gurgling in my throat made it impossible to breathe without triggering another agonizing movement of the arrow. He frowned, his tone chilling. “That’s enough. Stop the act. Do you have a blood pack hidden in your mouth? I was with Willow when she chose those fireworks. They’re soft and thin. She’s a kind girl; she specifically had them custom-made so they wouldn’t hurt anyone. The impact must have just pushed it into your shoulder. It’s a flesh wound, nothing more. There’s no need to be so dramatic. Chris and I aren’t idiots.” I froze, even forgetting to cough. He mistook my shock for being caught in a lie. He sighed. For the first time since I’d caught him with Willow, he spoke to me in a gentle, coaxing tone. “Alright, this is just a temporary divorce to appease Willow. Sign the papers, and after you do, Chris and I promise we’ll take you to Sunhaven for a few days, just like you wanted.” With a nod from Scott, Chris reluctantly agreed. When I finally spoke, my voice was a raw, rasping sound, filled with utter despair. “You think… you think we were going to Sunhaven… for a vacation?” I thought if they remembered Sunhaven, they would remember why I had been begging them to go with me. They would remember why the sight of their smiling faces at that party had made me snap. Our daughter, Rosie, had been born frail and sickly. She couldn’t tolerate the cold. Sunhaven was warm year-round. In the three years of her life, we had spent more than half our time there. In the end, she hadn’t made it. She had left us, and I had cried until I fainted, over and over again. We decided to bury her in Sunhaven. At her grave, both Scott and Chris had wept and sworn they would come back every year on the anniversary of her death to be with her. 148 days. A laughable 148 days. And on the first anniversary of her death, they had forgotten everything. When a heart dies, there’s nothing left to say, nothing left to ask. I let out a long breath. I didn’t want to see them anymore. Let them leave. Words were useless now. I slowly raised my hand. “I’ll sign both.” Chris, barely concealing his excitement, shoved the pen into my hand. My left hand was the only part of me with any feeling left, and I signed slowly. But just as I was about to complete the last stroke of my name, I felt the barbs inside me begin to spin violently. The pen clattered to the floor. The pain was so intense that my body began to convulse. A spray of blood erupted from my mouth, covering both agreements, obscuring the text completely. Scott and Chris stared, stunned. Chris was the first to react. “Damn it! You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You ruined the papers just to spite us!” He raised his hand to strike me again. Just then, his phone rang. It was Willow. “Scott! Chris! Help me! A group of men… they have me cornered in an alley! They said… they said my sister sent them to teach me a lesson…” Panic seized them both. Even Scott, who had maintained a sliver of composure, let out a curse and kicked my gurney over. “So this was your plan all along! Wasting time so they could get to her!” “Evelyn Shay, if anything happens to Willow, I will make you pay with your life!” He turned to the hospital staff. “Tell everyone, let her lie here and play her games. She likes bleeding, right? For every cut anyone makes on her, I’ll pay a million dollars. But if anyone dares to treat her or bandage her wounds, they’ll have to answer to both the Vance and the Shay families!”

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It was New Year’s Eve, and the whole family was outside setting off fireworks. The trouble started with a single, simple act: I handed a sparkler to Gina, my younger daughter, just because she was standing closer to me. That was all it took for Aria, my older daughter, to snap every remaining sparkler in the box. She pointed a trembling finger at Gina and screamed, “Go on, play with it! You always have to have everything! Why don’t you just drop dead?” Then the tears came, a wrenching, theatrical sob as she turned on my husband and me. “Why didn’t you give it to me first? Why are you always so unfair? I don’t want you as my parents anymore!” Before we could react, she bolted, running out of the yard and into the night. We couldn’t catch her. We called the police, then spent three agonizing days and nights driving through every street, searching for her. When we finally found her at the police station, she was putting on another show, wailing that she refused to come home with us. “I don’t want parents who play favorites! I’m not going back!” I looked at her, my voice eerily calm. “Aria, are you sure about that?” Her crying hitched for a second. “Because if you don’t want us anymore,” I continued, “then we… don’t want you either.” 1 Aria froze. Then, the crying erupted again, louder and more desperate than before. A young policewoman rushed over to mediate. “Ma’am, she’s just a child. Don’t be so hard on her.” I wasn’t being hard on her. I was just tired. So incredibly tired. By my count, this was the twenty-eighth time Aria had run away from home. It was always over something trivial, some perceived slight that no one else would even notice. If I served Gina a slightly larger portion of casserole at dinner, Aria would throw a fit. She would meticulously pick apart her food, counting every single piece of scrambled egg on her plate. If Gina accidentally got one more, it was a catastrophe. She’d snatch her sister’s plate and scrape the entire meal into the trash. “If you’re going to be unfair,” she’d snarl, “then nobody gets to eat!” To keep the peace, we actually bought a food scale. Every meal was portioned out to the gram, a ridiculous ritual to prove our impartiality. It wasn’t just food. It was everything. Clothes, shoes, toys… Aria always had to have the first pick. If she didn’t get what she wanted, she’d run. We couldn’t discipline her. We couldn’t even scold her. A single sharp word and she’d have one leg over the windowsill, threatening to jump. My husband, David, and I tried talking to her, reasoning with her, but it always devolved into hysterical screaming about how we favored her sister. Then she’d run outside without her shoes, telling anyone who would listen that we didn’t want her anymore now that we had a second child, that we were so cruel we wouldn’t even give her shoes. We could never explain. All we could do was endure the whispers and the judgment, and gently coax her back home. But this time, the twenty-eighth time, was different. I felt a profound, bone-deep exhaustion. Her screams were like a bomb that had finally obliterated the last of my patience. David, however, still had some left. He sighed, kneeling in front of Aria, his voice soft and placating. “Sweetheart, it’s all our fault. Please, just come home with us.” At the sight of her father’s surrender, a flicker of triumph crossed her face. I knew that look. It was the look she got when she knew she had us wrapped around her finger. And now, the demands would begin. “Fine, I’ll come back,” she said, sniffing. “But you have to agree to a few things.” “Anything,” David said instantly. “You name it, we’ll get it for you.” “I want that new laptop we saw, and the new Nintendo Switch from the mall. You have to buy them for me.” “And,” she paused, her lower lip jutting out, “you have to send Gina to live with Grandma. I don’t want to live with her anymore. I hate her!” “…Aria, honey, Gina is your sister. You can’t just send her away.” The moment she was denied, Aria shoved David away. “She is not my sister! Did you even ask for my permission before you had her?” She was winding up for another tantrum. David, flustered and desperate, shot me a helpless look. What do we do? he mouthed. I took a deep breath, pulled him up from the floor, and faced our daughter. “Aria, you’re twelve years old. You’re not a little kid anymore.” My voice was steady, devoid of the emotion she fed on. “You and Gina are both our daughters. We are not sending Gina away. No matter how much you scream or cry, it is not going to happen. So, are you coming home with us or not? If not, we’re leaving.” With that, I grabbed David’s arm and walked toward the door. 2 One step. Two steps. Three. We were almost at the precinct door when Aria’s voice cut through the air. “Fine! Don’t send her away!” she yelled. “But you’re taking me to buy the laptop and the Switch. Right now!” She ordered us around as if we owed her, her tone dripping with entitlement. But in the end, we gave in. We took her to the mall and bought her everything she wanted. By the time we finally got home, it was late. Gina heard the door open and came pattering down the stairs. The moment she saw Aria, she shrank back, her voice a small, timid whisper. “Hi, Aria.” Aria didn’t even glance at her. “Who said you could call me that? Get away from me.” “Don’t talk to your sister like that,” I warned. “You two are family, not enemies.” Aria shot me a look of pure contempt. “I never asked for a sister. She’s a little freeloader you and Dad made because you got horny and couldn’t be bothered to use a condom. What’s that got to do with me?” “Aria!” David’s voice was sharp with shock. “Where did you learn to talk like that?” He sighed, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. “We’re a family, Aria. Can’t you please stop talking like we’re at war?” Aria just sneered. “It’s your fault for playing favorites. If you can’t treat two kids equally, why have them in the first place?” In that moment, I was so tired I could barely breathe. “Aria,” I said, my voice low. “Do you really want to know why we have two children in this house? I’ll tell you right now—” “Sarah, don’t!” The words died in my throat as David grabbed my arm, his grip tight. He was always the patient one, the peacemaker. “Aria, Gina,” he said, trying to smooth things over. “Let’s just put this behind us. Can you two please try to get along from now on? Mom and I swear, we will love you both exactly the same. No favorites.” Gina nodded immediately, her eyes wide and earnest. “I promise, Daddy.” Aria let out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. She’s the baby. You’ll always take her side.” I fought back a wave of irritation. “Then what do you want us to do, Aria?” She shot a venomous glare at Gina. “I already told you. Send her to Grandma’s house! I want you to love only me!” My voice rose despite myself. “Aria, I just told you, that is not going to happen!” A sly, calculating look crossed her face. She folded her arms. “Oh, it’s not? Then I’ll just go on a hunger strike.” She looked so sure of herself, so utterly convinced that we would fold, just like always. Without another word, she spun around and stomped up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door with a deafening bang that shook the whole house. Gina flinched, her small body trembling. After a moment, she hesitantly reached for my hand. “Mommy,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, “I don’t want to go to Grandma’s. And I don’t want Aria to starve…” The sight of her tears made my heart ache. I knelt and gently wiped them away. “Gina, honey, this is not your fault. And don’t worry, Mom and Dad will never, ever send you away.” “…But what about Aria?” I sighed, a cold weariness settling over me. We had coddled her for too long. “This time,” I said, my voice hard, “no one is going to give in to her.” 3 On the first day of Aria’s hunger strike, David couldn’t hold out. He snuck upstairs with a plate of her favorite food: sweet and sour ribs and fried chicken. Aria didn’t even look up. She simply swiped the plate off his hands, sending it crashing to the floor. “I don’t need your fake kindness! Get out!” The moment I heard the crash, I stormed into the room and pulled David out. “She’s not eating? Then let her starve,” I told him firmly. “From now on, we are not going to interfere. Aria’s behavior is getting more and more extreme. If we keep giving in, she’s going to do something truly terrible one day. This time, you will not indulge her. Do you understand me?” David looked torn, but after a long, hard look from me, he finally nodded. On the second day, we didn’t bring her any food. Realizing we were serious, she started making a racket upstairs. We heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. In the past, I would have run up, terrified she had hurt herself. This time, I steeled myself and ignored it. “Don’t look up,” I told Gina and David at the dinner table. “Just keep eating.” Sure enough, late that night, after we had all gone to our rooms, I heard faint footsteps creaking on the stairs. Aria, driven by hunger, was sneaking down to the kitchen. She quietly opened the fridge, grabbed a bag of bread, and started stuffing it into her mouth like a starved animal. I had been waiting. I walked out of my bedroom and flipped on the kitchen light. She jumped, dropping the bread on the floor. Caught in the act, her bravado vanished, replaced by a flush of embarrassment. I sighed. Seeing how thin she looked already, a pang of pity shot through me. I went to the microwave and pulled out the plate of food I had saved for her. “Can we please stop this?” I said softly. “Just eat.” This time, she didn’t fight. She sat down and cleaned the plate. I reached out and stroked her hair. “Aria, I promise you, I love you so, so much. Even with a sister, that love hasn’t changed. Deep down, you know that, don’t you?” My voice was pleading. “So please, can you stop all this? I’m begging you.” Aria swallowed the last piece of rib, set down her fork, and walked back to her room without a word. The next morning, the hunger strike was over. She came downstairs and ate breakfast with us. I carefully divided the food, using the scale to ensure her portion was identical to Gina’s down to the last gram. The meal was silent. Then, Gina spoke up, her voice small. “Aria… do you want to walk home from school together today?” Aria was quiet for a long moment. Then, looking down at her plate, she mumbled, “Okay.” A huge wave of relief washed over me. I thought, finally, we had turned a corner. I had no idea the real nightmare was just beginning. 4 David and I went to our respective offices. The moment I walked into mine, I felt a chill crawl up my spine. It felt like dozens of eyes were on me, but whenever I turned to look, they would dart away. It wasn’t just the stares. It was the whispers, quiet as buzzing mosquitoes, that stopped the moment I got near. Holding my breath, I strained to listen. They were talking about me. “…I can’t believe it. Sarah seems so normal, but she’s abusing her own daughter at home…” “I heard she favors the younger one and starves the older one. The poor girl went two whole days without food. It’s monstrous!” “If you can’t love both your kids equally, you shouldn’t have a second one. That poor child is so unlucky to have her for a mother.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I felt dizzy. When did I ever starve Aria? And how did they know what was happening in my house? I pulled aside Kate, a colleague I was friendly with, and asked her what was going on. She looked uncomfortable but finally mumbled, “Sarah, I’ll send you something on your phone. Just… take a look.” I fumbled with my phone, my hands shaking. It was a video. And the little girl in it… was Aria. She had secretly live-streamed from her bedroom the night before. Kate had sent me a recording. In the video, Aria’s hair was a mess, and she was wearing an old pair of pajamas she’d outgrown two years ago. The small, worn-out clothes made her look even more pitiful and neglected. She looked into the camera, her eyes brimming with tears. “Hi everyone,” she whispered weakly. “My mom hasn’t let me eat for two days. Right now, she and my dad and my sister are downstairs eating ribs and fried chicken. I’m so hungry… I barely have the strength to talk…” “Ever since they had my sister, they don’t love me anymore,” she sobbed. “They want to send me to my grandma’s house in the country, pull me out of school, and make me work in a factory in a few years… then marry me off to some man to save up for my sister’s future!” Her crying intensified. She held up our family photo, making sure the viewers got a good look at the faces of her “evil” parents. The comments in the chat were flying by, a torrent of outrage. 【PARENTS LIKE THAT SHOULD BURN IN HELL. UNFAIR PARENTS ARE THE WORST!】 【How could anyone be cruel to such a sweet little girl? This is heartbreaking.】 【Sweetie, you should cut ties with them. We’ll adopt you!】 Watching the video, the world went dark around me. With the last ounce of my composure, I memorized the username and ID from the video. I immediately searched for it on the social media platform. When I saw the account’s main page, my blood ran cold. It was a secret account Aria had been running for months. Post after post detailed how her parents favored her little sister. The comments were filled with sympathy for this poor, unloved girl. Several users had even offered to adopt her. My finger trembled as I scrolled up. The latest post was about the hunger strike. She had twisted the story, turning her self-imposed strike into us deliberately starving her. She painted herself as a tragic victim. At the end of the post, she had asked her followers a question: 【What should I do about my parents who play favorites?】 The top-liked comment read: 【Why don’t you just make your sister disappear?】 Aria had replied: 【How do I do that?】 The user responded: 【Push her down the stairs, poison her food… there are plenty of ways.】 Some of the replies under that comment told the user not to give a child such horrible ideas. But others agreed. 【With parents that biased, the sister is probably a spoiled brat who bullies her. I say teach her a lesson!】 I kept scrolling down, my heart pounding in my throat. And then I saw it. A reply from Aria, posted just ten minutes ago. 【Okay then, I’ll give it a try!】 A cold dread washed over me. I glanced at the clock. School was already out. And this morning, Gina had asked Aria to walk home with her… My heart leaped into my throat. Work was forgotten. I called David, who was still at his office. “Something’s wrong. Get home now!”

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At the gala of powerful Alistair Sterling, my world collapsed. Laura Coy, my husband Tim’s true love, stood sobbing, accusing my brother Leo of assault. The elite whispered, “Laura was Sterling’s chosen fiancée. That White boy is out of control!” Respecting our family ties, Sterling ordered Leo to marry Laura instead of pressing charges. But Tim enacted his own justice: before everyone, he shattered Leo’s legs with a chair, telling me, “We must appease the Sterlings, or they’ll ruin our family.” Months later, Laura had a baby boy. Leo, wheelchair-bound, screamed his innocence, but no one believed him. Desperate, he took the infant to demand a public paternity test. As he left, Tim struck him from behind with a vase. I screamed, but Tim choked me, hissing, “Think of the scandal and the baby.” Carrying our child, I died. I awoke again at the Sterling gala. This time, I tied my brother up and locked him in a storage room. Yet Laura Coy was still weeping, still claiming she’d been assaulted. … Laura stood there, wrapped only in Tim’s suit jacket, with suspicious red marks blooming across her exposed shoulders and legs. She hid her face, her sobs echoing with practiced misery. “I’ve disgraced Mr. Sterling’s trust! I can’t bear to live!” she cried, lurching toward one of the marble pillars as if to end her own life. “Tim, don’t stop me! Just let me die!” Several society matrons rushed to restrain her, their faces a mixture of pity for her and disgust for me. Their glares were like daggers. “Has Leo White completely lost his mind? Did he pick up these disgusting habits overseas?” “His family has a little prestige, sure, but to touch someone the Sterlings have chosen? He’s spitting in the face of the most powerful man in the city!” “Miss Coy was supposed to marry the Sterling heir next month. This has ruined everything!” I glanced at my husband, Tim Thorne, who was shielding Laura, his eyes burning with fury as he stared at me. I fought back the bitter, knowing smile that threatened to curve my lips. Pushing through the crowd, I walked straight up to Laura. “Miss Coy,” I said, my voice cutting through her performance. “Look at me. Are you absolutely certain the man who did this to you was my brother?” Laura flinched, her weeping growing more frantic. “Miss White, I know you love your brother, but how could any woman lie about something like this? I just… I don’t want to live anymore!” She struggled again, a damsel in deep distress, held back by the gentle hands of the other women. Tim strode forward and yanked me aside, his grip so tight it felt like my wrist would snap. His face was thunderous, his eyes blazing. “Elara, your brother commits a disgusting, animalistic act, and instead of dragging him here to apologize, you come to intimidate his victim?” His voice was a low, furious growl. “Your father’s legacy, his good name—you and your brother are dragging it through the mud!” The pain in my wrist was sharp, but the cold laughter in my heart was sharper. Half an hour ago, I personally bound and gagged Leo and secured the storage room with three separate locks. Did he magically teleport back here to assault Laura? I met Tim’s furious gaze without flinching. “Tim, are you sure? Are you absolutely certain it was my brother who did this?” His jaw tightened. “I saw him with my own eyes, Elara! I saw that bastard putting his hands all over Laura! I knocked him out myself to save her. You think I don’t recognize my own brother-in-law?” A sliver of doubt pierced my resolve. Tim’s certainty was unsettling. Had Leo somehow escaped? “Mrs. Thorne, how long are you going to bully this poor girl?” a prominent matriarch snapped at me, her voice dripping with condescension. “You are the wife of the Thorne Corporation heir! You should be protecting your husband’s family name, not defending the trash in yours. You are unfit to be the lady of the Thorne house!” “Or what?” another chimed in. “Do you want Tim to just look the other way while you and your delinquent brother drive Miss Coy to her death?” Tim shot me a venomous look. “Elara, stop embarrassing yourself!” I let out a cold, humorless laugh, my gaze sweeping over the self-righteous faces of the city’s elite, all of them eager to join the chorus. “It seems that no matter what really happened tonight, all the filth was destined to be thrown at my brother.” “You!” Laura looked as if I had struck her. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, making her look exquisitely fragile. She bit her lip, her voice trembling. “I have always lived an honorable life. I never wanted to climb the social ladder! And now you’re calling me a shameless, conniving woman?” “Fine! If the White family refuses to take responsibility, then I’ll die right here and sever all ties to this world!” She spun and ran toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, only to be caught and soothed by the gaggle of women. “Miss Coy, don’t do something so foolish!” “It’s all that vile White boy’s fault!” “You’ve suffered so much! You can’t let that animal get what he wants!” While they comforted her, they shot me looks of pure loathing. “She was supposed to be marrying the Sterling heir, for God’s sake.” “The Whites run a decent business, but do they really think they’re in the same league? Why would a woman like Miss Coy need to frame them with her own reputation?” Tim pulled me closer, his grip still bruising, his expression shifting to one of feigned concern. “Elara, stop this,” he murmured, loud enough for others to hear his “reasonableness.” “Just have Leo agree to marry Laura. Issue a public apology, offer compensation.” “If this goes to court,” he whispered, for my ears only, “an assault charge alone will land him in prison for at least a decade. White Industries’ stock will plummet. How will you answer to your board then?” Last time, that mask of his had fooled me completely. I believed Leo had made a drunken mistake. Consumed by guilt, I handed over a major White Industries project to the Coy family as an apology and treated Laura like a queen. And in return, she gave birth to another man’s child seven and a half months later and destroyed my entire family. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I ripped my arm from his grasp. “You want my family to welcome Laura Coy into our home under a cloud of lies? In your dreams!” The warmth vanished from Tim’s face, replaced by a chillingly familiar darkness. Before he could respond, Laura’s father, Mr. Coy, stormed into the room, his face a mask of fury. Without a word, he marched up to his daughter and struck her, a sharp, ringing slap that sent her stumbling to the floor, blood trickling from her lip. “You are still making a scene in a place like this!” he roared. “Get home, now! I’ll book you a flight. Go die abroad for all I care, just stop shaming our family!” Two bodyguards moved to grab Laura. “You don’t have to touch me,” she sobbed. She snatched a fruit knife from a nearby table and, without hesitation, slashed it across her wrist. The room erupted in chaos. There were screams, people rushing to stop her, and others grabbing me, their voices shrill with accusation. “Mrs. Thorne! Are you just going to stand there and watch?” “If it wasn’t for your degenerate brother, would she be driven to this?” “Can your family live with themselves?” I watched the melodrama unfold, my face a cold, impassive mask. I saw the glint in Laura’s eyes as she pressed the blade deeper. It wasn’t the look of someone who wanted to die. It was the look of someone certain of victory. Blood welled up, crimson and stark against her pale skin. The matrons shrieked. “My God! The White family is driving her to her death!” Tim’s face went white. He lunged forward, wrenching the knife from her hand. “Doctor! Get the family doctor in here, now!” He quickly undid his tie and wrapped it tightly around her bleeding wrist. Surrounded by a worried crowd, Laura lay back, her eyes fluttering weakly. Her gaze flickered toward me, and in that fleeting moment, I saw it again: not despair, but triumph. Once Laura was safely settled in a quiet corner, Tim stormed toward me, his eyes terrifyingly dark. “Elara White!” he roared, and his hand flew up, striking me across the face with brutal force. The slap echoed through the ballroom. The impact sent me staggering backward, and I fell, my head cracking against the sharp corner of a marble table. A searing pain shot through my skull as blood trickled down my temple. My cheek was on fire, my ear ringing, and my vision swam with black spots. Tim stood over me, his finger pointed at my face, his eyes filled with a venomous hatred. “You are such a vicious bitch. You had to push her to the brink of death just to feel satisfied, didn’t you? I, Tim Thorne, do not have a wife as evil as you. We’re getting a divorce. Today!” The crowd murmured in agreement. Some even looked pleased. “Mr. Thorne is right! A wife with no sense of right and wrong is a curse!” “Like brother, like sister. He’s a thug, so what does that make her? I bet she was sleeping around before she got married!” “Mr. Thorne and Miss Coy are so unlucky to have run into these two psychopaths!” The vicious words rained down on me. They looked at me as if I were a murderer, one step away from being pelted with rotten fruit. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth and pushed myself up from the floor, my head throbbing. I faced them all. “You need to catch them red-handed,” I said, my voice shaking but clear. “Which one of you actually saw my brother assault Laura Coy?” A stunned silence fell over the room. Tim broke it with a cold laugh. “I see you won’t give up until you’re faced with irrefutable proof!” He spun around and strode to a dark corner of the ballroom where two bodyguards stood watch over a bulky, black sack. He bent down, untied the rope, and reached inside. With a flourish, he pulled out a custom-made men’s lapel pin, exquisitely crafted and engraved with a small, stylized “V.” He held it up for everyone to see. “Recognize this? This was a coming-of-age gift for Leo White from his family. It is a one-of-a-kind design! No one else in the world has one!” His eyes were like daggers as he threw the pin at me. It clattered at my feet. “Elara White, what do you have to say now?” My heart plummeted. A cold sweat broke out on my back. The pin… it was the one Leo was wearing tonight. Did someone let him out of the storage room after I left? No, that’s impossible. I told the guards not to move. Mr. Coy spat in my direction. “The evidence is right in front of you! Are you still going to deny it?” I clenched my jaw and met Tim’s gaze, a bitter smile on my lips. “This is all very strange, isn’t it? My brother and I have only been back in the country for a short time. We keep to ourselves. But today, of all days, the one day I specifically told him to stick by his brother-in-law and learn the ropes, this happens.” I raised my voice, letting the accusation hang in the air. “I want to know who was really with Laura Coy tonight, and who is trying to frame my brother and my family for their own filthy secrets!” “You’re talking nonsense!” Tim roared, a flicker of panic in his eyes that he couldn’t quite conceal. Several of his friends rushed to hold him back, afraid he would lose control completely. The crowd shook their heads, their disapproval now aimed at me. “Elara! You’ve lost your mind! You’d slander your own husband to protect that animal of a brother?” “She’s completely shameless! She’s trying to drag the Thorne family down with her!” A few of the older women who had known my family for years tried to reason with me. “Elara, dear, just stop. Apologize to Tim. There’s still a chance to fix this.” I shook them off. “Apologize? I’ve done nothing wrong!” Someone in the crowd muttered, “Tim and Laura were childhood sweethearts. If they were meant to be, they would have married years ago. Why would she get involved with him now?” The comment was like a tiny spark in a dry field. The mood in the room shifted. The looks directed at Tim and Laura were no longer just sympathetic; they were questioning, speculative. One of the women tugged at my arm, her voice urgent. “You foolish girl! Your family is in the wrong here! If you keep this up and the police get involved, what will happen when they arrest your brother?” An image from my past life flashed before my eyes: Leo, wasting away in a hospital bed, his legs rotting, his spirit broken. He had been the brightest star of White Industries, reduced to a cripple who couldn’t even walk. The despair in his eyes as he faded away was a wound in my soul that would never heal. I pulled my arm free. Better to go down fighting tonight than to be slowly tortured to death later. I lifted my chin. “Since we can’t agree, then let’s call the police. Let them handle it!” My voice rang out, silencing the room. “If my brother, Leo White, truly did something so monstrous, then whether he goes to prison, pays a fine, or faces a firing squad, he deserves it! The White family will not harbor a monster!” Laura trembled, her eyes darting nervously toward Tim.

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It was my seventh day back in my real family’s home when I saw the confession post. [The year my parents adopted me, I knew their real daughter was in the same orphanage. But I didn’t say anything. I was terrified of being left without a family, of being at the matron’s mercy again.] [Now my parents favor me and treat her poorly. The guilt is eating me alive. How can I ever make it up to her?] In my last life, when I discovered the poster was the girl who had taken my place, I dragged my useless right leg to confront her, my mind shattering. But that same night, she buckled under the pressure and jumped from a building. My parents blamed me for her death. They screamed that I should pay with my life, that I had to die. Only my adoptive brother, Ethan, shielded me. He took me away from that house, gave me a new place to live. But he refused to find me a doctor. Instead, he tormented me daily. “You drove Lily to her death,” he would whisper. “You extinguished a bright, living soul. You will spend the rest of your life atoning for it.” In the end, swallowed by a deep depression, I followed in her footsteps. I jumped. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I first found that post. 1 The commenters thought Lily Hecht was just fishing for attention, a troll making up a story. They filled the thread with memes and sarcastic replies. She posted an update. [My parents raised me for eighteen years. They love me, they couldn’t bear to send me away. So they let me stay, as the real daughter’s younger sister.] [The first time we met, we were both five. We became best friends at the orphanage. But I was so scared her parents would recognize her and not adopt me. So one day, I convinced her to play hide-and-seek. I told her to hide and stay hidden.] [I tried to find her later, I really did, but she’d already been adopted by another family. She’s had a terrible life. Her leg is crippled, and she’s so thin, just skin and bones.] [I heard her adoptive family was awful. They beat her, neglected her. She had to drop out of middle school to fend for herself.] [And me? I grew up with every luxury. If I so much as sneezed, my parents and brother would call the family doctor. I go to the best private high school. I feel so, so sorry for her…] Last time, reading those words was what made me snap. How could I not hate her? On the first day I was brought back to the Hecht family, my mother held me and wept. My father, a man with a stern face, had red-rimmed eyes. My adoptive brother, Ethan, gently stroked my head. It should have been the start of a happy life. But then Lily appeared. She wore a beautiful dress, a diamond necklace I’d only ever seen in magazines glittering at her throat. She smelled soft and sweet, like flowers. I instinctively looked down at myself. At my right leg, shattered by my foster father. It could barely support my malnourished body. My nine-dollar thrift-store clothes carried a strange, musty odor. The black lint from the fabric was still wedged under my fingernails. Why? Why did she get to live my life? I hated Lily from that moment on. She had changed so much that I didn’t recognize her as Lulu, my friend from the orphanage. After I got lost all those years ago, a kind person had taken me there. We were always hungry, always cold. The matron was cruel, but she was always gentle with Lulu. Every time the matron took Lulu away to “play a game,” Lulu would return with a bag full of snacks. I wanted snacks too, so I asked her about the game. “It’s not fun at all,” she’d said. “It hurts, and it smells bad. If you want some of my snacks, I can share.” “But whatever you do,” she warned, “don’t let them make you clean. If you look too clean, the matron might force you to play the game.” I believed her. I spent my days covered in dirt, a little mud-caked wild thing. Then, six months later, Lulu wanted to play hide-and-seek. By the time I climbed out of the dusty cabinet, night had fallen. And she was gone, adopted by a rich family. I was happy for my friend. But she had lied to me. When that bloody truth was ripped open, in my previous life, I had attacked Lily in a frenzy. My parents and Ethan had rushed in. When they learned that Lily was the reason I had been separated from them for thirteen years, they couldn’t believe their sweet daughter could be so vicious. She just cried, apologizing over and over. “I’m so sorry, Mara. I ruined your life, I’m so sorry…” Not long after, Lily jumped to her death, right in front of me. My parents, who had been furious at her deception, broke down completely when they saw her body. My mother grabbed the collar of my shirt, her face contorted with grief. “What did Lily do wrong? She was just a scared little girl trying to escape the matron! She just wanted a mommy and daddy to protect her! Why did you have to expose her? Why did you have to kill her?” “Give me back my daughter!” And what did I do wrong? Why did I have to spend my best years as a cripple? Why did I have to dig through trash for food, wearing the same pair of shoes through all four seasons? Does dying suddenly make you the innocent one? I don’t remember how I left the Hecht house that day. All I remember is Ethan wrapping his arms around me, shielding me from my parents. His embrace was as warm as his voice. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I’m here.” But his very presence in this family was because of her. They had adopted him only because Lily had wanted a big brother. 2 Ethan settled me into his apartment, gently wiping the tears from my face. “You’ll live with me from now on. Right here.” But Lily’s death became a recurring nightmare. When I woke up screaming in the night, Ethan would hold me tight, whispering softly. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m with you.” “I’ll put on a movie for you. It’ll help you take your mind off things.” But the scenes of people falling in the films only terrified me more. So Ethan switched to opera. The soaring, dramatic music frayed my nerves. The only thing that brought me a sliver of peace was clutching Ethan’s hand. I was like a castaway clinging to driftwood, desperate for something to keep me afloat. In that despair, love began to bloom. But my mental state only worsened. I tried to save myself. “Can you take me to see a therapist tomorrow?” Ethan refused. He leaned close, his voice a gentle poison in my ear. “When Lily died, her head was smashed open. Have you ever thought about how much that must have hurt?” “Do you remember? She was apologizing to you right before she died. Have you forgiven her in your dreams yet?” “Mara, you’re a murderer.” “You drove Lily to her death. You extinguished a bright, living soul. You will spend the rest of your life atoning for it.” So that was it. Ethan hadn’t saved me because he believed I was innocent. He took me in to torture me, to avenge Lily. This time, I closed the web page and pretended I had never seen it. I wouldn’t become a sinner again. I would use the Hecht family’s influence to climb as high as I could. Then I would leave this place forever and build the life I wanted. The only person I can ever truly rely on is myself. So I went downstairs and found my mother. “I want to go back to school.” 3 The day I came home, my mother had suggested I transfer to Lily’s high school. I hated her, and I was terrified of being mocked for my leg, so I’d refused. Now that I was bringing it up myself, my mother was delighted. “That’s wonderful! Lily will have company on her way to school now.” “Mara, you’ve missed a lot of classes, but your brother is a freshman in college. He can tutor you. Just ask him if you need anything.” Ethan was sitting on the sofa, watching TV. He looked up at her words. He had the same gentle expression I remembered. But I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. I shook my head. “He doesn’t need to trouble himself. I can ask my teachers.” Ethan’s gaze dropped. “Suit yourself.” “Dinner’s ready,” my father called. Lily came downstairs, too. She sat across from me, looking timid and tense. As my mother served us, she cheerfully announced I’d be starting school. Lily’s face paled slightly. “It’s great that… that sister wants to study. I’ll take care of her at school…” “Mom,” I interrupted quietly. “I can’t eat celery. I’m allergic.” I’d discovered it during one of my old jobs. I was so hungry I’d eaten a customer’s leftovers, only to break out in hives, struggling to breathe. The restaurant owner had panicked and called an ambulance. Afterward, he docked my pay for the month, claiming I’d disrupted his business. My mother froze, then quickly removed the celery from my bowl. “Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. I’ll remember from now on.” “Here, Lily, you have it. Celery is your favorite.” She didn’t just give Lily my piece. She tossed it in the trash and served Lily a fresh one, as if my food was now contaminated. Then my mother picked up a piece of fish, carefully removing the bones for her. “A bite of celery, then a bite of meat. You need your perfect balance, don’t you?” The love that should have been mine was being poured all over Lily. Lily watched me cautiously, gauging my reaction. I just shoveled the meat into my mouth. The fake beef I used to eat was soft and tasted like tofu. This was real meat, tender and savory. I was eating so fast. Suddenly, a pork rib landed in my bowl. Ethan had served it to me. “The ribs are good, too. Don’t just eat the beef.” I froze, not daring to touch it. My mind raced, wondering if there was something wrong with it. A warmth trickled from my nose. He quickly grabbed a napkin and wiped the blood away for me. I shot up from my chair, stumbling backward. The chair legs screeched against the floor. My mother looked over, and I stammered, “I’m full.” As I ran upstairs, I heard Ethan’s low voice. “Maria, Mara looks a bit flushed. Could you make her some cooling herbal tea?” That was Ethan. Always so considerate. Even when I first came back, a stranger to him, he would ask if I was settling in okay, if my clothes were warm enough. That’s why, in my past life, I never once suspected that his kindness was a mask for his hatred. But it doesn’t matter. This time, Lily won’t die. And I won’t be driven to jump from a building. The school enrollment was handled quickly. On Monday morning, I was supposed to go to school with Lily. She came to my room. 4 Lily held out an orange shopping bag. Inside was a designer backpack. I’d seen couriers deliver them to wealthy customers before. A brand called Hermès. Very expensive. “Sister, your backpack is a little small. You’ll have a lot of books in high school, it won’t fit everything. This one’s new, you can have it.” Ever since I’d returned, Lily had been finding excuses to give me expensive things. I used to think she was showing off and would always reject them coldly. Only now did I understand. It was her way of compensating me for stealing my identity. This time, I took it without a second thought, already calculating its resale value. After all, money would never betray me. Seeing that I hadn’t refused, Lily practically skipped out of my room. I slung the bag over my shoulder and headed downstairs. As I passed the living room, my mother called out to me. “Mara, do you like Hermès bags, too?” Her voice was soft, but the edge was sharp. “If you like them, Mom can buy you one. But you can’t steal…” She coughed, rephrasing. “You can’t just take Lily’s bag.” I stood frozen. “Lily gave it to me.” “That’s impossible. Lily treasures that limited-edition bag. She barely even uses it. I once joked about giving it away, and she cried her eyes out.” Just then, Lily came downstairs. Hearing our conversation, she rushed to confess. “I did give it to sister.” My mother was confused. “But don’t you love that bag?” “I…” Lily stammered, unable to bring herself to tell the real reason. Her hesitation only confirmed my mother’s suspicions. Her face hardened, believing I had bullied her precious daughter. That’s when Ethan spoke up. “It’s true, Lily did give it to her. I heard them talking upstairs.” Lily immediately latched onto the lie. “Yes, that’s right. Ethan can vouch for me.” But Ethan had been downstairs with our mother the whole time. Our mother sighed. “You two are just too soft-hearted.” “We’ll let this go for now.” And just like that, the matter was closed. I was a thief who couldn’t be proven innocent. I clenched my fists but said nothing more. My mother wouldn’t believe me anyway. They were Lily’s family. Whatever I did was wrong. There was no point in arguing. Later, I found a consignment shop and sold the bag. The wire transfer hit my account: a staggering number with six figures. More money than I could have earned in a hundred lifetimes. It was worth being called a thief. 5 School wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined. When my classmates found out about my leg, they were kind and went out of their way to help me. Because of that, Lily never approached me. She pretended not to know me. And I had no interest in starting a drama about the long-lost daughter. She sat in the front row; I sat in the back corner. We stayed out of each other’s way. That evening, I stayed late to ask a teacher a question. By the time I came out, Lily and the driver were gone. Ethan was waiting for me at the school gate. “I told them to go on ahead.” His voice was low. “Mom found out you sold the bag. She’s furious.” “Dad gets back from his business trip tonight, and he knows, too.” “When we get home, just admit you were wrong. I’ll speak up for you. They won’t be too hard on you.” I couldn’t figure Ethan out. Based on his personality, he should have been just as angry as our parents, scolding me for selling Lily’s gift. He should never have been the one to help me. Could it be? Had he been reborn, too? Ethan reached for my schoolbag, but I flinched away on instinct. “I understand. I need to buy some school supplies. You should go ahead, brother. I can get a cab home.” Without waiting for a reply, I limped away as fast as I could. It didn’t matter if he’d been reborn or not. In this life, he could protect his sister, and I would walk my own path. We would have nothing to do with each other. When I got home, the air was thick with tension. My parents were sitting grim-faced on the sofa. The orange backpack was on the coffee table in front of them. Lily sat beside them, prim and proper, though she shot me a guilty look. She clearly hadn’t intended for her gift to cause so much trouble. My mother was the first to speak. “Mara, this morning your brother and Lily lied to protect you, so I didn’t expose you for stealing. But how could you sell it?” Her voice rose. “That was Lily’s most prized possession!” “If I hadn’t seen it in a shop window and bought it back, you would have broken her heart all over again!” My father tossed a credit card onto the table. His voice was cold as ice. “This family is not so poor that we need to sell handbags for cash. If that got out, people would think we mistreat our own daughter.” “From now on, I’ll deposit your allowance onto this card. This is your only warning. But first, you will apologize to Lily.” “You were in the wrong.” I had no idea how much money was on that card. I could apologize, take the card, and let the whole thing blow over. Or I could fight, expose Lily’s real reason for giving me the bag, and reclaim my innocence. This seemed to be a question where I was doomed to lose, no matter what I chose. So. I chose…

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I was trapped by a System, forced into a mission: save the tragic hero, Keir Vance. For him, I bore two children. For him, I drowned in a five-year fog of postpartum depression. And for five years, Keir took care of me. To the outside world, we were a story of enviable devotion. The System’s voice was a constant whisper in my ear. “See? Isn’t this happiness? A husband, children… such a perfect family. Why would you ever want to go back?” On the television in my hospital room, a news report flashed across the screen: Keir Vance, spending a fortune on his new girlfriend. That supposed girlfriend was my son’s tutor. The photo showed the three of them in a tight embrace, a perfect, happy family. For the first time in years, a genuine smile touched my lips. “He seems to have found his true love,” I said softly. “Can I go home now?” The System shrieked, its voice hysterical in my mind. “I’ve had a hundred hosts, and you are the most ungrateful one I have ever seen!” “So what if his affection for Sophia has spiked to fifty-one percent? He hasn’t divorced you, has he? He hasn’t thrown you out! That means he still loves you! Are you really going to give up after everything you’ve been through?” I managed a weak, tired smile. Five years. Five years swallowed by the suffocating darkness of depression. Countless pills. Round after round of electroshock therapy. A fine web of scars crisscrossing my wrists. My only reason for living, the single thread I clung to, was the thought of returning to my own world, to my parents. I stared at the track marks from countless needles covering my arms. My voice came out as a raw rasp. “But you promised. You said I could leave when the mission was complete.” Just as the words left my lips, a small, sweet voice came from behind me. “Mommy, are you leaving?” I froze, turning my head slowly. My daughter, Mia, stood in the doorway of my room. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, but she forced a brave little smile. “If you leave… does that mean you won’t have to cry secretly every night anymore?” I crossed the room and pulled her into a fierce hug, the dam of my own tears finally breaking. She burrowed into my chest, her voice muffled. “If that’s the case, then you should go, Mommy. Mia will be a good girl. I’ll listen to Daddy and Aiden.” This was the daughter I had pushed away, a casualty of my depression. And yet, she was so perceptive, so kind. Her words were like a knife twisting in my heart. I wanted to go home, but how could I leave her? Suddenly, the door was kicked open. Sophia stormed in, her face a mask of fury. She marched up to me and slapped a newspaper across my face. “Mrs. Vance, I took pity on you. I helped you take care of Aiden because of your depression. Is this how you repay me?” The corner of the paper sliced my cheek, a sharp, stinging pain. I picked up the newspaper. The headline made my blood run cold. [VANCE MATRIARCH’S DEPRESSION OPENS DOOR FOR HOMEWRECKER TUTOR] The accompanying photo was the one of them on the Ferris wheel, locked in their family embrace. Sophia’s face was flushed with rage, but she stood tall, defiant. “As Aiden’s tutor, I have given him nothing but the best care and guidance. And you, instead of being grateful, you turn on me like this.” “It was your own flaunting that…” Before I could finish, my son, Aiden, burst into the room, his face contorted in anger. “I was the one who asked Miss Sophia what it felt like to have a mom! That’s why she hugged me!” he screamed at me. “You’re a psycho! Why don’t you just die? How did I end up with a mom like you?!” The color drained from my face. It felt as if all the strength had been ripped from my body. Mia stepped in front of me, her small face red with indignation. “Mommy’s not a psycho! She loves us so much! Miss Sophia is the bad one! She’s always pinching me when no one’s looking!” Aiden glared at his sister, his eyes vicious. “You’re lying! That crazy woman has already corrupted you!” Without another word, he lunged forward and shoved Mia hard. My heart seized as I watched her stumble backward. I threw myself forward to catch her. At that exact moment, Keir pushed the door open, his brow furrowing at the chaos in the room. His gaze landed on Sophia, and his voice dropped, turning cold. “Didn’t I tell you that you weren’t allowed to come here?” Sophia flinched but recovered instantly, plastering a gentle smile on her face. “A child’s education must be nurtured from a young age. I came to take Mia home. She’s old enough to begin professional instruction, not spend her days in a hospital watching over… a depressive.” Her words hung in the air, pointed and cruel. Keir’s eyes shifted to Mia. Mia clung to me, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t want to leave Mommy! Miss Sophia pinches me and hits me, and she tries to make me call her ‘Mama’!” Any hesitation on Keir’s face vanished, replaced by a cold, hard mask. “So instead of focusing on your treatment, you’re spending your energy slandering Sophia? You’ve even taught Mia to be a liar. It seems it’s past time she was away from your influence.” His words struck me like a physical blow. I clutched Mia tighter. “I didn’t…” “You’ve disappointed me, Clara. Deeply.” He turned to the nurse, his face a picture of strained patience. “Give Mrs. Vance a sedative. She needs to rest.” The needle pierced my skin, and a wave of weakness washed over me. Powerless, I watched as they took my daughter away. A moment later, the System’s voice buzzed in my head, practically seething. “This is all Sophia’s doing! She orchestrated the newspaper leak to frame you! She’s the one who brainwashed your son and abused your daughter! Now even Keir is on her side!” “Clara, stay and fight her! Fight for your husband, for your children!” I closed my eyes, my voice a dry whisper. “You leaked the story to the papers, didn’t you?” The System went silent. After a long pause, its voice returned, softer now, laced with an irresistible, soothing quality. “It doesn’t matter who did it. Just stay, Clara.” “Time is frozen in your original world. You can go back whenever you want. There’s no rush.” “You are Keir’s true love.” As it spoke, images of my parents flickered in my mind. But five years is a long time. So long that if I didn’t actively try to remember, their faces would begin to blur. A spike of panic shot through me. I spoke to the System, my voice firm. “I want to go home!” Before the System could protest, the phone a nurse had left for me began to ring. It was a video call. On the screen, my daughter’s face was beet red. She was crying, her voice choked with sobs. “Mommy, I’m so hot. I feel sick.” My heart twisted. I looked past her, at the electric heater on the wall behind her, its dial cranked up to a hundred and fifty degrees. My pupils contracted in horror. “Mommy, I can’t breathe. Daddy and Aiden went out. Miss Sophia told me to be a good girl and do my homework.” I fought down my rising panic, soothing her as best I could. The second I hung up, I ran. I didn’t even stop for shoes. I flew out of the hospital like a madwoman. The taxi hadn’t even come to a full stop when I leaped out and started pounding on the front door of our house. The door opened quickly. Sophia stood there in a pristine white dress, a look of perfect, polite confusion on her face. “Mrs. Vance? This late, you…” I shoved her aside and sprinted for my daughter’s bedroom. The door was locked. From inside, I could hear faint, shallow breaths and weak cries. “Mrs. Vance, the child is doing her homework. Barging in like this will only disrupt her concentration.” Seeing her put on this sickening act, raw fury burned through me. I raised my hand and slapped her, hard, across the face. Then I turned to the maids, who had come running at the sound. “The key!” I screamed. They just stared at each other, then looked helplessly toward Sophia. Just then, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Keir was home. He looked surprised to see me, but his gaze fell on Sophia’s red, swollen cheek, and his face instantly darkened. “Clara, what the hell are you doing?!” Sophia swayed, leaning against him, her body trembling as she put on a brave front. “Keir, I know Mrs. Vance is unwell. For five years, I have tried to be patient. I have helped raise your children.” “But it’s clear she will never be grateful. Perhaps it’s time for me to leave.” Keir looked at me, at my wild eyes and disheveled state, and rubbed the bridge of his nose in weary frustration. “Clara, I am begging you, please stop this.” “I have taken care of you for so long. I have done more than enough. Can’t you just be normal for once?” “After all these years… I can’t take it anymore.” I’m the one acting crazy? Tears streamed down my face, but my laugh was desolate. I was the one who pulled him out of the darkness. The day his company went public, he swore he would love me forever. I really thought I had found true love in this world. I had even considered choosing him over my own parents. And now, he couldn’t take it anymore. In the next second, Aiden shot out like a cannonball, slamming into me and sending me tumbling down the stairs. “How dare you hit Miss Sophia! I’ll hit you back for her!” My head cracked against the wall at the bottom of the staircase. Blood blurred my vision. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony ripping through my heart. I staggered to my feet, staring at Aiden in disbelief. The hatred and disgust in his eyes were a mirror, reflecting my shattered heart back at me. I had almost died giving birth to him. His birth was the trigger for my depression. But in my moments of clarity, I would hold him all night, my heart melting with a love so fierce it hurt. I gave him all the love I had. And for Sophia, he had just tried to kill me. And Keir… Keir just stood there. He didn’t move. My voice was a raw croak. “Mia is in there! It’s a hundred and fifty degrees! I’m begging you, just let her out!” Seeing the cold indifference on Keir’s face, I crawled to him, grabbing at the leg of his pants. “Please. My baby is in there.”

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My CEO wife watched with cold indifference as I was humiliated for three years. But even a cornered rabbit will bite, and I’m no rabbit. “I’ll beat the hell out of your precious childhood sweetheart every time I see him.” The night I asked for a divorce, she got drunk and kissed me. 1. I was dreaming. A back-alley brawl, a brick raised high in my hand. Suddenly, a searing pain exploded across my face. My eyes snapped open to a startling scene. I was in a conference room, easily over a thousand square feet, filled with more than a dozen people in sharp business suits. They were all staring at me with amusement. Standing before me was a man with slicked-back hair and a smug face, shaking out his hand. Unless I was mistaken, he had just slapped me. Before I could process it, he spoke. “Cole, sleeping in a meeting is one thing, but snoring? Evelyn is speaking. Are you trying to provide background music?” “You son of a…” I was about to let him have it when a flood of memories that weren’t mine slammed into my brain. My name is Cole Evans, husband to Evelyn Stone, the CEO of Stone Industries. We’ve been married for three years, but I’ve never even touched her. I hold a meaningless position at the company, a punching bag for anyone who feels like taking a swing. The man who hit me is Miles, the company’s Vice President and Evelyn’s childhood friend. I touched my cheek. The texture of the skin felt different. The stinging pain, however, was very real. At the head of the table, Evelyn glanced at me, a flicker of a frown on her perfect face, before her eyes returned to the documents in her hand. She was undeniably beautiful. Paired with that icy demeanor, she was the quintessential ice queen. It was no wonder the original Cole had endured three years of misery just to be near her. “Continue,” she said calmly, her voice even. It was as if me getting slapped was of no consequence to her at all. Miles smirked, poking a finger into my chest. “Next time, don’t even bother showing up to embarrass yourself…” His words were cut off by a sharp cry of pain. I had caught his jabbing finger and bent it back. Hard. Everyone in the room froze. The looks of amusement vanished, replaced by something else, something uncertain. Miles doubled over, his face turning a dark shade of purple. “Let go! You son of a bitch, let go of me!” His yelling only made me squeeze harder. I watched the sweat bead on his forehead as I spoke, my voice low and steady. “Mr. Miles, did no one ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself when you talk?” At that moment, Evelyn looked up again, her voice laced with a clear warning. “Cole!” I glanced at her, then applied more pressure. Miles dropped to his knees with a pained gasp. A collective intake of breath echoed through the room. Then I let go. As Miles scrambled to get up, I kicked his shin, sweeping his legs out from under him. 2. He collapsed to the floor in a heap. The conference room fell into a dead silence. Evelyn’s expression finally changed. Those calm, placid eyes were now burning with fury as she stared at me. I met her gaze without flinching. “Evelyn, if you can’t keep your dog on a leash, I’ll do it for you.” Miles was still on the floor, more humiliated than he’d likely ever been in his life. His usually composed face was twisted with rage. He stammered, his lips trembling, “You… you… you…” The other executives finally snapped out of their shock. They looked like they wanted to scold me, as they usually would, but seeing the feral look in my eyes, they all held their tongues. Evelyn threw her pen down on the table. “Cole. Apologize.” How laughable. My cheek was still throbbing, yet my own wife was demanding I apologize to the man who hit me. The original owner of this body must have had the patience of a saint. “Fine,” I said. I crouched down, grabbing the back of Miles’s neck. “Mr. Miles…” THUD. I slammed his forehead into the polished floor. “Sorry if I hit you too hard.” THUD. Another one. “My apologies.” THUD. The third. Three sentences, three solid cracks of his head against the ground. Miles’s eyes looked ready to shoot fire. I leaned in close to his ear. “Touch me again, and a few bumps on the head will be the least of your worries.” I stood up, brushing off my pants and ignoring Evelyn’s murderous glare as I walked out of the conference room. Once outside, I pulled out my phone. The black screen reflected an unfamiliar face. The features were delicate, almost too refined, but the complexion was pale and the eyes were listless. It was the face of a man who had been swallowing his anger for a very long time. More memories flooded in. The original Cole’s parents died young. He was adopted by Evelyn’s grandfather. Three years ago, on his deathbed, the old man forced the two of them to marry. Cole moved into Evelyn’s villa but they always slept in separate rooms. He was given the empty title of “Project Consultant,” a job with no duties other than to endure the entire company’s scorn. The receptionists would sneer at him. The cleaning lady would deliberately splash dirty water on him. And Miles found new ways to torment him almost daily. Through it all, Evelyn was a silent, cold observer. What a pathetic existence. I wondered if the poor bastard was paying for some past-life sins. I started chasing girls at three, ruled the neighborhood streets by five, was peeking into the girls’ locker room by ten, and by eighteen, I was a well-known brawler with a reputation. If it were me, I would have torn this entire company down. I checked my pockets. Nothing but the phone. I saw a few guys smoking on the terrace and walked right over, plucking a cigarette from one of their packs and sticking it in my mouth. 3. The guy was about to curse me out, but one look from me and he scurried away. I took a drag and immediately started coughing. This body was pathetically weak. In the middle of my coughing fit, the group of smokers suddenly scattered. I turned to see Evelyn standing there, her expression as frosty as ever. “When did you learn to fight?” she asked. I took another drag, blowing a smoke ring. “Just now.” “Miles is the Vice President of this company.” I stepped closer, until we were only a foot apart. “And? Does that make his slaps more valuable?” She was silent for a few seconds. “Grandfather said you weren’t to be bullied.” Coming from her, the words were a bitter irony. I smiled and blew a puff of smoke right in her face. Her expression immediately soured. “You…” I cut her off. “So what the hell have you been doing for the past three years? Stress-testing me?” Evelyn didn’t rise to the bait. She waved the smoke away from her face, her eyes falling on my cheek. “There’s a first-aid kit in my office. Go take care of that.” “Don’t need to,” I said, walking past her. “I’ll leave it as a reminder that this isn’t a place for human beings.” “Cole.” I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Don’t cause any more trouble.” I let out a short, sharp laugh and kept walking. “Tell that to Miles. And one more thing—the divorce papers will be on your desk tomorrow. It’s for the best. For both of us.” I didn’t wait to see her reaction. Relief, probably. I skipped the office and went straight to HR to request a resignation form. The young woman at the desk looked at me like she’d seen a ghost, fumbling for what felt like an eternity before pulling a form from the bottom of a drawer. “M-Mr. Evans,” she stammered, “this needs Ms. Stone’s signature…” “Then get her to sign it.” I stuffed the form in my pocket. “Put me down for a personal day. I’m leaving.” As I walked out, the two receptionists, who had been huddled over a phone, snapped to attention and went silent. It seemed my reputation was preceding me. I shot them a grin. One of them fumbled her phone, nearly dropping it. Felt good. The elevator arrived from the underground garage. Inside stood Miles, flanked by two of his yes-men from the project department. The look in Miles’s eyes was murderous. I hesitated for a second, then, instead of leaving, I stepped right into the elevator with them. The doors slid shut, and the air turned to ice. “Cole,” Miles hissed, his voice tight with rage. “This isn’t over.” I watched the floor numbers light up. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” He blinked, then sneered. “You think acting tough for a day changes anything? Evelyn is only tolerating you because of her grandfather. Once that wears off, you’re nothing.” The elevator reached the fifth floor. The doors opened to reveal a few people waiting. They took one look at the scene inside and wisely decided to wait for the next one. The doors closed again. “Mr. Miles,” I said, turning to face him. “Your ‘Star Vista Plaza’ project… the building material quotes are inflated by about thirty percent, wouldn’t you say?” The color drained from his face. “The supplier, ‘Apex Materials,’ is owned by your uncle,” I continued. “Last Wednesday night, you took him to the Gilded Canary club. Two bottles of Lafite, charged to the company’s expense account.” I paused. “Oh, right. There were two girls that night, too. Also part of the ‘entertainment,’ I presume.” The two cronies next to him had gone pale. Miles’s lips trembled. “You… What the hell are you talking about?” The elevator reached the ninth floor. I slammed my hand on the emergency stop button. With a loud groan, the elevator jolted to a halt between floors. “Are you insane?” Miles shrieked, his eyes wide with terror. I didn’t answer. I just drove my foot into his stomach. He grunted, clutching his gut as he crumpled to the floor. His two goons made a move, but I pointed a finger at them. “You move an inch, and the evidence of your kickbacks will be in the ethics committee’s inbox by morning.” They froze. I grabbed a fistful of Miles’s hair, hauling him up from the floor, and drove my knee into his stomach. He gagged, tears and snot streaming down his face. “Listen up,” I whispered, my mouth next to his ear. “I have five copies of all your dirty laundry. If you ever mess with me again, they will find their way to all the right people.” His eyes were wide with terror. I let him go, and he collapsed in a heap. “So from now on, you see me, you walk the other way. You say one more word to me, and I’ll drown you in a septic tank.” I hit the button again, and the elevator resumed its ascent. When the doors opened, a crowd of people was waiting. They all stared, mouths agape, at the scene inside. I straightened my suit, stepped over the whimpering form of Miles, and walked out. It was 9 PM when I got back to the villa. To my surprise, Evelyn was sitting on the sofa, a laptop open in front of her, though she clearly wasn’t working. This was new. In three years of marriage, we had perfected the art of avoiding each other. Me in the guest room, her in the master bedroom, our use of the common areas carefully staggered. This was the first time she had ever waited up for me. I kicked off my shoes and headed for the guest room. “Cole.” She called my name, her voice stopping me in my tracks. I turned. She closed the laptop, her gaze landing on my bruised cheek. “Did you put anything on that?” “Don’t need to. I’ll live.”

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I made twelve calls. Not a single person would lend me the money. My husband, Mark, said the company was tight on cash flow. My mother-in-law said her nest egg was untouchable. My brother-in-law, Kevin, said he’d just started his job and was broke. My mother was lying in the ICU, the ventilator rising and falling with each breath. The doctor said if I didn’t pay the deposit soon, they’d have to stop her medication. In the end, the person who lent me the money was my mom’s neighbor, an old man who collected cans and bottles to get by. Mr. Peterson spent a full twenty minutes counting out the small, crinkled bills from a plastic grocery bag. “Here you go, dear.” My hands were shaking when I took the money. For ten years, I’d handed over every paycheck, paid down their mortgage, and served their entire family, young and old. And all of it was worth less than the kindness of a man who salvaged cans for a living. This was a debt I was going to collect. Down to the very last cent. 01 “Five thousand dollars… you’ll have to ask someone else, Clara.” Mark’s voice came through the phone, edged with impatience. I stood outside the hospital’s emergency room, my legs trembling. “Mark, my mom had a brain hemorrhage. The doctor says she needs surgery immediately.” “I know, but there’s really no liquid cash in the company accounts. Try asking my mom.” He hung up. I stared at the call duration on the screen: 47 seconds. My mother’s life, to him, was worth forty-seven seconds. I had to call my mother-in-law three times before she picked up. “Clara, dear, what’s the rush?” “Mom, my mother is in the hospital. We’re short five thousand for the surgery. Could you possibly—” “Oh, heavens no. I can’t touch my nest egg. You need to make Mark figure it out. He’s your husband.” “Mark said the company has no money.” “Well then, you’d better think of something else. What kind of money do you expect an old woman like me to have?” Her tone was light, as if she were commenting on the price of lettuce at the market. My brother-in-law’s call was even quicker. “Clara, I just started working, I’m totally broke. You’re putting me in a really tough spot.” I remembered his wedding last year. Mark and I gave them a gift of five thousand dollars. I remembered when he was in college. I’d paid for half of his tuition over four years. I didn’t say anything. I just ended the call. The hallway reeked of antiseptic. A gurney rushed past, its wheels making a rhythmic rumbling sound against the linoleum floor. I sank to the floor in a corner, scrolling through my contacts again and again. There was no one left. I had asked everyone I could. A doctor emerged from the trauma unit. “Where’s the family? If the deposit isn’t paid, we can’t proceed with treatment.” I pushed myself up, my legs weak. I had to brace myself against the wall to stand. “Doctor, please, just give me a little more time.” “Half an hour. That’s the most I can give you.” He turned and walked away. I watched his white coat disappear around the corner, my mind a complete blank. Then I heard a voice. “Dear, is your mother in the hospital?” I turned my head and saw Mr. Peterson. He was wearing a patched-up winter coat and carrying a large woven sack filled with the clinking shapes of bottles and cans. “Mr. Peterson? What are you doing here?” “I heard from Mrs. Gable next door. I came as fast as I could.” He set his sack on the floor and pulled a worn plastic bag from inside his coat. “This is what I’ve managed to save up these past couple of years. You take it for now.” I was speechless. “Mr. Peterson, I can’t take your money.” “Take it.” He pressed the bag into my hands. “Your mother is a good woman. When I was sick years ago, she was the only one who brought me a hot meal.” I opened the bag. It was filled with small bills. Ones, fives, tens, all of them wrinkled and soft with age, some with the corners worn away. Mr. Peterson squatted on the floor and began to count. “One hundred, two hundred, three hundred…” He counted slowly, his gnarled fingers carefully smoothing out each crinkled bill before setting it aside. People bustled past in the busy hospital corridor, but no one gave him a second glance. I stood beside him, tears streaming down my face. “Forty-eight hundred, forty-nine hundred, five thousand.” He stood up and handed me the neat stack of cash. “Exactly five thousand. You should count it, dear.” My hands trembled as I took the money. “Mr. Peterson, I…” “Don’t say another word. Go pay the bill. Your mother is waiting.” Clutching the wad of cash, I ran toward the billing window. Halfway there, I stopped and looked back. Mr. Peterson was stooped over, his back bent, slowly picking up an empty plastic bottle someone had dropped on the floor. Five thousand dollars. How many thousands of cans and bottles had he collected to save that? I didn’t know. I only knew that I had been a servant to the Davis family for ten years, and in return, I had received less kindness than from a man who salvaged trash for a living. 02 The light above the operating room door glowed for four hours. I sat on a plastic chair in the hallway, my eyes fixed on that red light, not moving an inch. Ten years ago, it was a light just like this one. Back then, Mark was just starting his business, renting a basement office. No air conditioning. It was a sweltering sauna in the summer. I worked my day job, and at night, I helped him organize his books and prepare financial statements. One night, we worked until three in the morning. I fell asleep with my head on the desk. When I woke up, he had draped his jacket over my shoulders. “Honey,” he said, “once I make it, I’ll give you the good life.” I believed him. The first year of our marriage, his mother said her health was failing and she needed someone to look after her. I quit my job and moved in with them. The second year, his brother, Kevin, got into college and couldn’t afford tuition. His mother said, “Clara, you can cover it for now. Kevin will pay you back after he graduates.” I covered it. Forty thousand dollars over four years. He never paid back a single cent. The third year, our son Leo was born. I raised him by myself. The feedings, the diaper changes, the waking up in the middle of the night to mix formula. Mark said he was busy. Busy with client dinners, busy with business deals. His mother said raising children was a woman’s job, that she was too old to help. The fourth year, his mother said the household expenses were high and that I should give her my paycheck for “central management.” “Clara, I’ll save it for you. It’s better than you spending it carelessly.” I gave her my debit card. My take-home pay was four thousand a month then. Later, it rose to six thousand. Over ten years, it added up to nearly half a million dollars. The fifth year, we bought our marital home. The down payment was one hundred thousand. My parents gave me sixty, and I used forty of my own savings. The day we closed on the loan, Mark was out of town on a business trip. I ran around by myself, to the bank, to the county records office, signing a mountain of paperwork. The clerk asked me, “Whose name should be on the deed?” I looked at the form and suddenly remembered something my mother-in-law had said. “Clara, you married into the Davis family, so you are a Davis now. Stay out of your own family’s business. We don’t want people gossiping.” I wrote down my own name. At the time, I thought of it as the last escape route I might ever need. I never imagined that ten years later, I would actually have to use it. The operating room light went out. The surgeon came out. “The surgery was a success. The patient will need to be monitored in the ICU for 48 hours.” I stood up, my legs numb, nearly collapsing. “Thank you, doctor.” “The family should get some rest. There’s a long road to recovery ahead.” I nodded, watching as the nurses wheeled my mother out. Her face was ashen, her head wrapped in bandages, tubes extending from her body like a lifeless puppet. I followed the gurney, walking step by step toward the ICU. Just then, Mark’s call came through. “Clara, how was the surgery?” “It was successful.” “That’s good. I have an important meeting tomorrow that I can’t miss. It’ll be tough on you over there, but call me if anything happens.” I didn’t say a word. “Hello? Clara?” “I heard you.” I hung up. The ICU doors swung shut, and I watched my mother through the glass window. Ten years. I did the laundry and cooked the meals for the Davis family. I cared for my in-laws and raised our child. I managed the books for Mark’s company, ran his errands, and held down the fort at home so he could build his business. I gave the best years of my life to that family. And today, when my mother was on the verge of death, they wouldn’t even lend me five thousand dollars. I leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. The rhythmic beeping of the machines in the ICU sounded like a countdown. Ten years of marriage. A thirty-two-year-old life. What had it all been for? 03 The hospital room was quiet, punctuated only by the steady beep of the heart monitor. My mother was awake. She opened her eyes and studied my face for a long moment before recognition dawned. “Clara?” “I’m here, Mom.” I took her hand. It was frail and bony, her skin a roadmap of blue veins. “The surgery bill…” “It’s paid, Mom. Don’t you worry.” She stared at me, then asked quietly, “Who lent it to you?” I didn’t answer. “Was it the Davises?” I still said nothing. She closed her eyes. After a long pause, she spoke. “Clara, I’m so sorry.” “Mom, what are you talking about?” “I never should have let you marry into that family.” I froze. “I saw right through them from the beginning,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Your mother-in-law… she says all the right things, but the only people she cares about are her own children. In her eyes, you’re nothing but a free maid.” I remained silent. “I’ve seen how much you’ve suffered all these years.” She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting mine, her rims red with unshed tears. “But you never said anything, so I couldn’t interfere.” “Mom…” “Clara, my life isn’t worth you begging them.” She squeezed my hand. “Who was it? Who really lent you the money?” I was quiet for a long time. “Mr. Peterson.” She looked stunned. “The man who collects cans?” “Yes.” The room fell silent. My mother stared at the ceiling, a single tear tracing a path from the corner of her eye to her temple. “Clara, listen to me.” “I’m listening, Mom.” “Don’t be a fool anymore.” She turned her head to face me. “They don’t treat you like a human being. Why on earth are you still treating them like family?” I looked at her, and something inside me shattered. Or maybe, something was finally pieced back together. It was nine in the evening when I got home. Leo was already asleep. My mother-in-law was on the couch watching TV. She didn’t even look up when I walked in. “You’re back? How’s your mother?” “The surgery was a success.” “Good. Oh, and remember to get up early tomorrow to cook. Kevin’s wife is coming over.” I just looked at her. “What are you staring at? Go take a shower and get to bed.” I turned, walked into my bedroom, and locked the door behind me. Mark wasn’t home yet. I opened my laptop and created a new spreadsheet. I thought for a long time about the title. Finally, I typed four words: The Ten-Year Bill. Row one: Surrendered Salary, $480,000. Row two: Mortgage Payments, $250,000. Row three: Car Payments, $75,000. Row four: Kevin’s Tuition & Wedding Gift, $65,000. Row five: Ten Years of Unpaid Domestic Labor, Market Rate, $300,000. I sat there, staring at the screen, calculating every last cent. I was still at it at two in the morning when Mark finally came home. He tried the door, found it locked, and knocked twice. “Clara? Why’s the door locked?” I didn’t move. “Clara?” I shut down the laptop and opened the door. He reeked of alcohol, his tie hanging crooked. “You’re just getting home?” “Client dinner.” He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed. “I’m exhausted. So, is your mom any better?” I stared at him without answering. “Alright, well, let’s get some sleep. I have another meeting tomorrow.” He rolled over, and within seconds, he was snoring. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at his back. This was the man I had spent a decade with. In all that time, he had never truly listened to a single word I said. I stood up and opened the laptop again. This bill had to be settled. 04 The first thing I did was report my debit card as lost and have it canceled. The bank printed out statements that were over twenty pages long. I went through them, page by page. From January 2014 to September 2024, there was a transfer every single month. Into an account under my mother-in-law’s name. The first year, four thousand a month. The third year, it went up to five thousand. The sixth year, six thousand. Over ten years, the total came to $483,700. I decided to round it down to an even $480,000. I wasn’t going to fight over the change. The company’s finances were even easier to track. I had been a part-time accountant for Mark’s company for five years, and I had backups of everything. When my friend Linda helped me organize the data, she just kept shaking her head at the numbers. “Clara, have you been living under a rock all these years? All this money, and you didn’t see a dime of it?” “I thought we were a family. I didn’t think we needed to keep score.” “A family?” Linda scoffed. “What did your ‘family’ say the night your mom was in the ICU?” I fell silent. “Listen to me. You need to leave him. This man, this family… are you keeping them around for Christmas?” I compiled all the evidence into folders, neatly labeled: Salary Statements, Mortgage Records, Car Loan Payments, Company Accounts. And one more item, the most important of all. The fifty thousand dollars my dad had lent Mark to start his business, money he got from selling his own house. I still had the promissory note, signed by Mark, his thumbprint pressed beside his signature. I remember my mother-in-law saying at the time, “Clara, your father did this willingly. It’s not a loan, why do you need a piece of paper?” My dad had insisted. “It’s always smart to put things in writing, even with family.”

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The day I got the positive pregnancy test, I did something I hadn’t done in years. I went to Frank’s office. Through the glass wall of the conference room, I couldn’t resist calling his phone. But then I saw her—the woman sitting next to him, his secretary—pick up his phone and decline the call without a second thought. Then, with practiced ease, she unlocked the screen and started typing. A moment later, a message from “Frank” buzzed on my phone. “In a meeting. Don’t call unless it’s an emergency.” I stared at the words for a long time. When I looked up again, I saw her, in front of everyone, affectionately adjusting his slightly crooked tie. I calmly typed back. “Fine. Are you two coming out, or am I coming in?” 01 The moment our eyes met, the panic on the woman’s face vanished, replaced by a perfectly composed expression. She leaned close to Frank’s ear, whispering something. The gesture itself wasn’t scandalous, but her expression was tinged with a delicate sense of grievance. When Frank finally looked up at me, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat before striding toward me. “What is it?” His voice was cold, laced with the irritation of having his work interrupted. The tie around his neck was one he’d been wearing often lately. It wasn’t a gift from me, nor was it one he’d bought himself. I’d heard it was a thank-you gift from his secretary after the company’s annual gala. What I hadn’t known was that this “secretary” was a new, stunningly beautiful young woman. I glanced at the woman who remained in the conference room. “Why don’t you have her come out too?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I told her to hang up. I told her what to send.” “Chloe just graduated. She can be a bit impulsive, but she means well.” “Don’t go scaring a young girl like that.” In the five years I’d been married to Frank, I’d rarely heard him say so much at once, except at business functions. And now, he was doing it to defend another woman. A woman who knew his phone password before his own wife did. The joy I had felt on my way here had completely evaporated. I let out a bitter laugh. “Frank, do you think I’m blind?” I stood and stepped closer to him, trying to read the real emotion in his eyes. “Tell her to come out.” Before Frank could refuse, a petite figure stepped between us. “Mrs. Vance, I’m right here.” The woman’s face was a picture of innocent, delicate features, but her eyes held a defiant pride. “You probably don’t realize how crucial this meeting is for Mr. Vance.” “From your perspective, I hung up on the CEO’s wife. But from Mr. Vance’s perspective, an interruption like that could become a black mark on the company’s record.” “I may not be important, but I have a duty to ensure Mr. Vance’s work proceeds without a hitch.” “Mrs. Vance, if you have a problem, take it up with me. This has nothing to do with Mr. Vance.” As I watched the look of admiration grow in Frank’s eyes, the whole situation felt absurd. Over the years, plenty of women had orbited Frank, trying to get his attention. The flirtatious ones, the aloof ones, the ones who threw money and resources at him. I had observed them all, even tested a few. But I never knew his type was this… corporate zealot. “Take it up with you? Alright.” I made a show of looking at the name badge on her chest. “Chloe, is it? As of this moment, you’re fired.” The pride on her face shattered instantly. “On what grounds can you fire me? This is Mr. Vance’s company! I work for him, and my conscience is clear!” I sneered. “On the grounds that I’m his wife. And the second-largest shareholder in this company.” Tears welled in Chloe’s eyes, threatening to spill over. “Stella, have you made enough of a scene?” Frank’s voice was like ice. “This is a company, not your personal playground where you can throw tantrums whenever you please.” “It was one missed call. What on earth could be so important? Go on, I’m all ears.” The man who was always so composed and distant was now red-faced with anger. I had never seen him so openly emotional, not even the year he took a bullet for me. Behind him, the conference room door was ajar. A room full of executives sat in dead silence, their expressions knowing. From now on, I, the rarely seen Mrs. Vance, would be the butt of all their jokes. At that thought, I calmly picked up the test results I’d placed on the table. Frank’s eyes narrowed at the movement. “What’s that?” “Nothing,” I said. “Just a piece of scrap paper.” 02 Frank clearly wanted to say more. But then my phone vibrated. The name “Dad” on the screen silenced him. My father’s voice was filled with an undisguisable joy and affection. “Stella, honey, tell Frank to put his work on hold. I’ll personally oversee the waterfront project for him. His priority right now is taking care of you and the baby. I’ll fly back in a couple of days…” I looked at the impatient man in front of me, my voice strained. “Dad, you don’t have to.” There was a pause on the other end, then a note of concern. “What’s wrong? Tell me, did that boy do something to hurt you?” Turning away, I fought back the lump in my throat. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll handle it.” After a moment, a sigh came through the phone, sounding years older than it had a minute ago. The man who had dominated the business world for decades was always sharp when it came to his daughter, yet he was also helpless. Just like six years ago, when I endured the first and only slap of my life for the sake of marrying Frank. The blow had landed on my face, but it was my father, a man nearing fifty, who had cried first. “Stella, your mother never suffered a day in her life. How can I stand to watch you go through this?” My mother was lucky in life, though her life was short. In a more traditional era, she lived under my father’s protection, giving birth to me at the late age of thirty-six. But on the very first day I met Frank’s mother, she joked at the dinner table that Vance wives were expected to have a baby in the nursery within a year or two. Frank had remained silent, but my father had nearly crushed the wine glass in his hand. I, however, had brushed it off. Marriage was between two people. The Vances had no significant background. Even with a difficult mother-in-law, I was confident I could build a happy life. Besides, what wasn’t a man worth who had literally taken a bullet for me? Chloe’s voice sounded from behind me. “Mr. Vance, I just got a message from the client. They’ll be here in five minutes.” Frank’s voice returned to its usual calm. “Understood.” As the footsteps faded away, I took a deep breath and lowered the phone, which had long since disconnected. Suddenly, a pair of high heels appeared in front of me. It was Chloe. She was smiling, a mocking glint in her eyes. “Mrs. Vance, Mr. Vance said that if you need anything in the future, you can tell me directly. I can pass the message along for you.” Communication between a husband and wife, relayed through a third party. The implication was crystal clear. She savored the look on my face for a moment, her expression smug. “Let me be blunt, Mrs. Vance. Mr. Vance gave me a great opportunity, and I cherish the chance to work with him. I understand how much this company means to him, so I have no intention of leaving.” “Unlike you, everything I have, I’ve earned through my own hard work. I’d rather have real value in a man’s eyes than just be a trophy wife.” Her gaze was taunting, a stark contrast to the gentle, determined woman she had been in front of Frank. I couldn’t help but clutch my handbag tighter, a cold smile on my face. “You have quite the high opinion of yourself. Frank has never had a shortage of people willing to work for him. Your so-called ‘value’ is worthless to him.” She didn’t get angry. Instead, she coolly opened her phone’s photo gallery, showing me screen after screen of screenshots of my text conversations with Frank. “You probably didn’t know this, but Mr. Vance gave me his phone password last month. Which means, since then, the person on the other end of your conversations has been me.” “Oh, and that sapphire necklace you loved so much for your anniversary? That was my suggestion.” “That time you asked him to come home early, and shared a picture of that new nightgown you bought? I was the one who convinced him to leave work and go home to you.” “Do you know what happened after that? I stayed up all night finishing his reports, and the next day, he gifted me a sapphire bracelet, identical to your necklace. I just never wear it… to avoid suspicion.” CRACK! The sharp sound of a slap echoed in the air. My fingertips and my heart went numb. The emotional control I had always been so proud of shattered in an instant. “Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you touch my marriage?” She clutched her cheek, her shock lasting only a moment before she started to laugh. “Are you scared?” When I didn’t answer, her smirk widened. “Don’t worry, I’m not the type to use cheap tricks to seduce a man. And I have no interest in breaking up a marriage. Unless,” her tone shifted, her smile turning seductive, “he’s the one who takes the first step. Then I won’t hesitate to walk the other ninety-nine.” A fanatical gleam lit up her eyes, and it was that look that suddenly brought me back to my senses. That year, if Frank’s first step hadn’t nearly cost him his life, I never would have tearfully walked the other ninety-nine. And now this woman stood before me, gloating, as if it were a badge of honor. I had my family’s name and fortune to fall back on. What did she have? “Cat got your tongue?” the woman pressed, unwilling to let it go. As I turned to leave, I let out a small laugh. “What else is there to say? Should I wish you luck?” 03 Of course, Chloe assumed I was just lashing out in anger. As I left, I saw her, one side of her face red and swollen, click-clacking in her heels straight toward the VIP lounge where Frank was. She knew exactly how to play on a man’s sympathy to win his favor. At least in that regard, she was much smarter than I had been. I was twenty-two when I first met Frank, standing behind my father. Back then, like everyone else, he would simply bow his head politely and greet me, “Miss Rhodes.” At first, it was pure attraction. I handpicked him to be my personal bodyguard. But he never grew arrogant because of my favor, nor did he ever show a hint of annoyance at my unreasonable demands. He was diligent and serious about his work, but always polite and distant with me. Later, when I was kidnapped by a business rival, he threw himself in front of me, taking a bullet meant for me. That bullet nearly killed him. And it made me fall completely. During the days he lay unconscious, my dreams were filled with the clean, soapy scent of him as he held me in his arms. The day he woke up, I stood before him with puffy, swollen eyes, first scolding him for his incompetence, then blushing as I pointed to the graze on my own shoulder, demanding he take responsibility. My excuse was flimsy, but he nodded. I was ecstatic. Little did I know what a difficult path I had chosen for myself. When I got back to the Vance house, I could hear Frank’s mother’s voice from the living room. “Young people have it so easy these days. In my time, what daughter-in-law would dare not to serve her mother-in-law? Did you see the look on her face last time I asked her to bring me a basin of water for my feet? Her eyes were practically red with anger!” “I truly regret it. If she hadn’t chased after him with her money back then, our Frank would never have married a barren saint we have to worship.” The housekeeper, Maria, chimed in, “You’re so right…” I pushed the door open. The room fell silent enough to hear a pin drop. Maria, who had been cracking sunflower seeds on the sofa, jumped up, a sheepish smile on her face. “Miss Stella, you’re back. Have you eaten? There are some leftovers from lunch, I can go heat them up for you.” “No, thank you.” Sensing my coldness, Frank’s mother bristled. “Stella, there are a million things to do around the house. Why did you run off so early in the morning without saying a word?” The Vance family rules were strict and archaic. For a woman, the only value lay in producing heirs, serving her husband, and managing the household. On my first day of marriage, Frank’s mother handed me a broom and told me to sweep the entire house, saying it was what a proper new wife should do. I had put up with it for five years, trying my best to please her. But I never realized she didn’t appreciate any of it. I let out a cold laugh. “We have two live-in housekeepers, two cooks, a gardener, and a family doctor.” “Tell me, what exactly is there left for me to do personally?” She was probably shocked by my sudden defiance. She was speechless for a moment, her face flushing red. “This—this whole household needs managing, doesn’t it? Don’t the corners need checking? What if someone with sticky fingers takes something, are you even keeping track?” Her words were nasty. Maria’s face fell, and she carried her plate into the kitchen. I looked at her calmly. “Aren’t you here? I hired the staff, I pay their salaries, and Frank is never here. So, as the mother of the house, shouldn’t you be pulling some weight?” Realizing her mistake, Frank’s mother grew even more flustered and angry. “Why should I have to serve you! You can’t even have a child!” I looked at her twisted face, my eyes cold. She was the one who had promised that living together would be temporary, just until she felt we were settled. Frank had asked me to be understanding. And so I was, for five years. For five years, I endured my husband’s coldness and my mother-in-law’s constant passive-aggressive digs. Slowly, I began to understand the helpless look in my father’s eyes all those years ago. “A child?” I glanced down at my stomach with a faint, mocking smile. Ignoring her shouting behind me, I walked straight to the master bedroom. Probably due to the pregnancy, I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. When I woke up, the sky was already dark. I could hear Frank’s mother’s unusually cheerful laughter from the living room, along with a man’s distinctive voice. Frank was home? As I listened, something felt wrong. I opened the door to a scene of domestic bliss. Frank was actually chatting with his mother, a rare sight, while Chloe was smiling sweetly, massaging his mother’s feet. His mother sighed contentedly. “Where would you find such a perfect girl? So filial and considerate. This is better than any professional masseuse.” “Frank, you have to treat her well. If you don’t, I’ll just have Chloe come work for us here. It’s not like that wife of yours is anything more than a decoration…” The man only frowned slightly, a look of helplessness in his eyes. “Mom, what are you talking about?” “What am I talking about? She has less and less respect for me every day. What good is all her money? After all these years, she hasn’t produced a single heir. I can’t even hold my head up high in front of the family!” “I think she’s bad luck! Always dressed to the nines and running around outside… Who knows what she’s up to behind your back—” CRASH! The vase I threw shattered at their feet. A woman’s shriek pierced the air. Frank looked up at me in disbelief, his voice filled with fury. “Stella! Have you lost your mind!” I crossed my arms, looking down at him, and let out a soft laugh. “Mad?” “No,” I corrected myself. “I’m more clear-headed than I have ever been.”

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