I was scrolling through the Eastwood University online forum, The Campus Confessional, in the pre-dawn hours when a new thread popped up. “Does anyone know this girl? She’s been sitting there for three hours without turning a single page! It’s seriously giving me the creeps.” A reply: “Is that the girl in the fourth row, far right, wearing the old uniform?” The poster: “That’s the one.” “Holy sh*t! Wait a minute! Fourth row, far right?!” “Haven’t you heard the rumor? Three years ago, there was a fire in that study room—faulty wiring in the library!” “A senior was trapped in that exact seat, she couldn’t get out… she was burned to a crisp!” “The school sealed off that row. It’s supposed to be empty.” 1 The thread continued to pile up. A photo was attached: a girl in a faded blue uniform, sitting at a library table, reading. Her hair covered most of her face. “What’s the big deal? She’s just reading, she’s not bothering anyone.” “Yeah, what’s so weird about that?” “You’re a total creep for secretly taking pictures of women.” The poster: “No! She hasn’t moved for three hours. Not one page turned. I’m honestly freaked out.” “Maybe she’s just spaced out?” “Three hours of spacing out without moving? Poster, can you check if she has feet?” The poster: “Um… I really can’t see her feet… she’s wearing a really long black skirt that covers them.” “Well, then check for a shadow. No shadow means she’s a ghost.” The poster: “The lighting in the library is dim, and where she’s sitting… I don’t think she has a shadow.” “Whoa. I’ve got goosebumps now. Seriously, is it a ghost?” “Don’t say that word in the middle of the night! Scaring me to death!” “Poster, what are you doing staring at her in the library so late?” The poster: “I’m working on my final paper! Why else would I be in the library at this hour?” “What? Now? It’s past 1 AM. The library closed hours ago.” “Exactly, the library locks up at 10 PM. Nobody’s there. Poster is lying. Confirmed.” The poster: “No way! The reading room is still open! I swear, look!” Another photo appeared, clearly showing the study room with a clock in the corner: 1:09 AM. Looking at that photo, a sudden chill crept up my spine, and my fingers nearly lost their grip on my phone. Stiffly, I lifted my head, inch by painful inch, and looked out the window. 2 The library was directly across from our dorm. It was pitch black, not a single light on. Empty. My scalp prickled, and I tried to close the thread. But the unread notifications were flashing, and within moments, another dozen replies had stacked up. “All the libraries close at ten. The poster must be having a breakdown.” “Zoom in on the photo. That uniform is ancient, right? They changed the design years ago.” “Poster, look closer at the book she’s holding. Is it a dark red, thick hardcover? Is the title Tectonics and Terrestrial Shift?” “No way! I’m a Geo-Sci major! That book is a textbook from five years ago. It’s completely out of print.” “Poster, are you still there? Say something!” “Hello, Poster?” After a long few minutes, the poster finally replied. The poster: “Don’t, don’t talk about it… I just pretended to go get water and glanced over. That book is Tectonics and Terrestrial Shift.” The poster: “And her uniform is definitely the old style.” The poster: “Oh God, am I in a study room with a ghost?” The poster: “Can someone please come over? I’m terrified. I can’t move!” “Dude, it’s 1 AM. The dorms are locked. How are we going to get there?” “Yeah, not everyone is a night owl like you, sleeping out of their room.” The poster: “Please, I’m begging you, I’m a girl… I’m really scared. I’m shaking.” “Oh, you’re a girl? Sorry, I thought you were some weird guy taking pictures.” “If you’re telling the truth, my roommate and I will climb out the window and come take a look. We live on the first floor in the South Wing.” The poster: “I swear, I promise! Please hurry…” I couldn’t take it anymore. I quickly typed out a message: “Don’t go, this person is a liar! Our graduate dorm is right across from the library. It’s been locked and dark for hours.” I snapped a picture of the view from my window and posted it. In the photo, the Hartley Library was a black silhouette, its four stories of windows like countless empty eye sockets, devoid of any light. Me: “Look, does that look like a place where anyone is working?” My message instantly set off the poster. The poster: “Ah! Don’t scare me! I am in the study room on the fourth floor.” The poster: “All the lights in the study room are on! The hallway and the bathroom lights are on too!” The poster: “I’m going to walk to the window and wave outside. Can you look again?” 3 Puzzled, I sat up, leaned forward, and peered out the window again… The four-story library across the way remained completely dark, exactly as it had been moments ago. I bent down and started typing furiously: “Stop lying! There’s not a soul near the fourth-floor window, not even a gh…” My head was down, and my fingers were flying, when I suddenly felt a cold dread. There was a dark shape by the ladder to my bunk. Thump-thump-thump… My heart went wild, practically jumping into my throat. I nervously lifted my head. Finally, I saw it: a disheveled black shape with hair covering its face. One eye peered out from the tangled strands, staring intently at me. Just as a scream was about to tear from my lungs, a hand clamped over my mouth. “Shh, Anya, it’s me.” It was Jade, my roommate. We were both first-year grad students and had moved into this double room three months ago. “You, you’re up in the middle of the night. Why are you standing by my bed?” Jade brushed back her messy hair. “I wasn’t asleep. I saw you keep looking out the window, so I got up to see what was wrong.” “I…” I was figuring out how to explain when she spoke again. “Anya, I saw the thread too. That girl sounds so convinced, and the photo she took is the study room.” “You think she’s not lying?” I challenged. Jade nodded. I shook my head. “But I’ve checked multiple times! There is absolutely no one over there!” Jade coughed. “Isn’t that suspicious? Whether it’s true or false, we’ll know if we go look, right?” Curiosity battled with logic, but in the end, I agreed. Before going downstairs, I sent a final message to the thread: We’re on our way to the library now. If you’re playing a sick prank, we’re calling campus security on you! The graduate dorms didn’t have a strict curfew, and two minutes later, we were standing at the base of the library. The main door was locked. I peered through the crack, and the hallway inside was completely dark. We found an unlocked window near the ground-floor restrooms and climbed inside, then headed toward the stairs. The building was pitch black. The only sounds were our muffled footsteps. Finally, we stopped outside the door of the fourth-floor reading room. Just as I was about to reach for the handle, Jade glanced at her phone. “Anya, look at the thread… it updated.” 4 I looked, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. The poster: “Hurry! Please believe me, I’m not lying.” “Oh, a grad student is coming? Be safe, everyone.” “Yeah, let us know what happens, I’m glued to this thread.” “What? I’m not sleeping either, waiting for the update…” The poster: “Are they here? It’s been a minute…” The poster: “Not here yet?” “Chill out, they can’t fly, can they?” The poster: “I’m scared… I feel like something is wrong. I must have hallucinated, that girl was in the fourth row, far right, but now she’s in the fifth row…” “What? Are you losing it? Didn’t you say she hadn’t moved for three hours?” The poster: “Yes, yes. But she really did change seats… look, look at the photo.” In the photo she sent, the girl in the blue uniform was indeed closer. But her head was still bowed, staring at the red book, completely motionless. “You’re crazy. This is getting too freaky. Did she teleport?” “The poster definitely just got confused.” “Wait, I checked the earlier photos. She does look like she shifted by one row.” The poster: “I’m staring at her now, frozen. I’m terrified she’ll suddenly turn around…” The poster: “Senior, are you here? Please hurry, I don’t think I can hold out much longer.” The poster: “My eyes are so tired…” “HOLY SH*T! Wait a minute! The fourth row, far right seat?! Poster, are you sure the girl was sitting there?” The poster: “Y-yes, why?” “Haven’t you heard the rumor? Three years ago, the library had a fire, faulty wiring in this study room! A senior was trapped in that seat, she couldn’t escape… she was burned… burned to a crisp! The school has kept that row empty ever since. It’s off-limits.” “Seriously? Is that true? Don’t start a fake rumor!” “It’s true! It’s in the old school forum archives! Go look! They say the school covered it up, but the older students know.” “Right, I heard that too. They said the senior was wearing her school uniform when it happened. She was rushing a thesis and using a rare, out-of-print book called Tectonics and Terrestrial Shift!” Reading this, the hair on my arms stood up. I had seen that rumor on the old forums, but I’d dismissed it. Every university has its ghost stories; I’d always assumed they were made up. But combined with what was happening tonight, this felt… real. The poster: “Don’t, don’t say those things, please don’t scare me…” The poster: “H-help! I just blinked, and she moved again! Look!” In the latest photo, the girl in the blue uniform had moved to the sixth row! 5 “What the hell! How is she moving? A new seat every time you blink?” “This is definitely not a person! Holy sh*t, dude, run! That’s a ghost!” “Run, Poster, run! Get downstairs now. The grad students should be close. Take the stairs, don’t take the elevator.” The poster: “I… I can’t move…” The poster: “I tried to turn around just now, but the second I moved, that girl got so much closer…” The poster: “She’s only about fifteen feet away from me now. Wh-what do I do!” The poster: “Help! Her head is moving, she’s… she’s slowly, slowly looking up! I can see her eyes!” The poster: “Her eyes are empty, they’re black holes! Th-there are no eyeballs. She’s staring… staring at me!” A terrifying image filled the screen: a disheveled, horrifying woman taking up most of the frame. Her face was deathly white, and her hollow, blackened eye sockets were chillingly clear. I shrieked, nearly dropping my phone. “Ja-Jade, the burnt senior is in there!” But Jade stared intently at the photo. “Is she? Well, I want to see for myself.” Before I could stop her, she walked right up to the reading room door, pressed her face to the narrow crack, and peered in. I backed up against the wall, my body rigid with fear. I had no idea Jade was this brave… Was she not afraid of a ghost? As I stood there, dumbfounded, her voice drifted back to me: “Anya, there’s… nothing in this study room.” “Nothing?” “Nope. Come see for yourself.” I hesitated. Despite my fear, intense curiosity finally dragged me forward. Cautiously, I peered through the door crack… The desks and chairs were neatly arranged. The room was empty. Just like the view from our dorm window. The deeper we thought about it, the stranger it became. We opened the thread again, and the comments had stacked up even more. “Poster, Poster, are you okay?” “Is that photo real or fake? I dropped my phone!” “Don’t freak out people late at night! You’ll give me a heart attack, and you’ll be liable.” “Did the grad students go in? It’s been ten minutes. Did everyone just vanish?” “Ugh, never mind. It’s probably just a troll. Treating us like fools.” As everyone was debating, the poster sent a few new messages. The poster: “I’m s-scared to death, I just…” 6 The poster: “I got out of the study room. I’m hiding in one of the stalls in the fourth-floor restroom. Th-that thing won’t come here, right…” The poster: “That thing must still be looking for me… I can feel it…” The poster: “Why haven’t the seniors arrived yet? Please, hurry up. If you don’t, I’m going to die!” Jade looked down at her phone. “That’s too weird. We’ve been standing right by the door. Nobody came out.” “R-right.” I nervously glanced down the hallway. “The restroom is dark, too.” To verify, we walked to the women’s restroom, opening and checking every stall. Not a shadow. Furious, I hammered out several replies on the thread: “Are you still going to lie? We are here, in the restroom, right now. What’s the point of this sick joke in the middle of the night?” “There’s no one in the restroom, and no one in the study room. We’ve already contacted campus security. Get ready to be reported!” “Is it fun to mess with people? When the school finds you, you’ll be expelled!” I expected the person to be terrified and disappear. Instead, her emotions shattered. “If I’m lying, may I be struck by lightning and hit by a car the second I step outside!” Jade stared at the phone. “Hmm.” She began typing rapidly. “I have to figure out what’s going on.” A moment later, she posted: “Poster, if you’re not lying, what college are you in? What year? What is your name?” The poster: “Huh? I’m Autumn Harper, a sophomore in the Engineering program.” Jade posted again: “Everyone, does anyone know this student?” “I don’t know her. I’m in Computer Science.” “I’m in Public Administration in the South Campus. I wouldn’t know.” Finally, a useful piece of information appeared. “I’m a sophomore in Engineering. We don’t have a student named Autumn Harper in our program.” The poster: “How is that possible! My classroom is in Crestview Hall 404, and my dorm is next to the sports field. Here, I’ll show you my student ID…” She quickly sent a photo: a round-faced girl with a ponytail. The Engineering student replied: “I helped the professor organize the sophomore student files. I have definitely never seen this girl.” The poster exploded: “How can you say that! Don’t lie to me!” She posted several angry messages, but no one was engaging with her anymore. I took Jade’s hand and led her back the way we came. “Forget it, we met a lunatic. Let’s go back to bed.” “Anya…” Jade stood still, her eyes strange. “She’s not lying.” “But her own classmates said there’s no Autumn Harper!” Jade slowly shook her head. “What if she’s not a current sophomore? What if she’s from a few years ago?” I stared at her. “Jade, what are you talking about?” Jade’s expression was serious. “Did I ever tell you I transferred to the grad program from the undergraduate Engineering school?” “You did. So?” “I was an Engineering undergrad.” Jade’s eyes were unsettling. “Our classroom was in Crestview Hall 404. Our dorm was next to the sports field. And the library was open 24 hours back then.” “So… you know her?” My voice trembled. Jade nodded hard. “Yes, we were on the same floor in the dorms. I saw her a few times! Then I got sick and took a semester off. After that, I never saw her again.” “But… that can’t be right. That was years ago. Why would she still… still be at the university?” Jade’s face was pale. “Exactly. She should have graduated. Why is she still here? No, I have to ask her.” She bent her head, tapping at her phone. A moment later, her finger shook. “She r-replied.” “What did she say?” Jade looked up, her face ashen. “I asked her what year it is. She said… it’s December 2022.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. I couldn’t believe my ears. Jade was the same; her body was trembling like a leaf. After a long moment, I finally found my voice. “Do you know any of her former roommates? Let’s find out what actually happened.” “I’m in an alumni group. I’ll ask now!” The response nearly scared us both to death.

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My husband calls me a manipulative leech, but he has no idea: my “little brother” is actually the son I gave birth to when I was nineteen. … I looked at the divorce papers on the coffee table and at Nolan’s face, twisted with rage, and a strange calm washed over me. “Sierra, I’m finished! This marriage is over!” Nolan slammed the glass ashtray onto the hardwood floor. Shards scattered everywhere. A tiny sliver grazed my ankle, and a bead of blood surfaced, slowly growing. “Last month you Venmo’d your brother five hundred bucks for ‘living expenses,’ and this month you want to drop another three hundred on a pair of designer sneakers for him! Do you think I’m an ATM, Sierra? Huh? Is your brother handicapped? Are his parents dead? Why do you, his sister, have to play mother and provider?” I sat on the sofa, carefully dabbing the cut on my ankle. My voice was low, almost detached. “He’s my brother. He’s in high school. What’s wrong with him having nice shoes? Besides, that money was from my freelance writing gigs.” “Your money? You married me, your body is mine, and your money is shared marital property!” Nolan tore at the knot of his tie, spitting mad. “I’ve tolerated this long enough, Sierra. For three years of marriage, that brother of yours has been a parasite clinging to us. The paperwork is right there. We are getting a divorce today!” I finally looked up at him. This man. When he was chasing me, he swore he loved my generous heart, my commitment to family. Now, my generosity was ‘being naïve,’ and my commitment was ‘enabling a leech.’ The truth was, I knew the three-hundred-dollar sneakers were just an excuse. The real reason was his ‘understanding’ assistant, Jenna. “Fine. Let’s do it,” I said, wadding up the bloody tissue. “The condo is mine—I bought it before we were married. The car is yours. We split the savings fifty-fifty.” Nolan let out a cold, calculating laugh, his eyes sharp with greed. “Dream on! You’ve funneled at least twenty thousand to that brother of yours over the past three years. That’s marital funds and it’s coming out of your share! And sure, you bought the place, but I chipped in ten thousand for the renovation. The property value has tripled, so you owe me eighty thousand for the appreciation!” I couldn’t help but laugh back. It was real, genuine amusement. I genuinely hadn’t realized until this very moment how loudly Nolan’s mental abacus was clicking. The beads were practically hitting me in the face. “Nolan, draw the line somewhere. Leo… Leo’s situation is,” I paused, my heart twisting painfully in my chest, “you know it’s special.” “Special my ass! He’s just a spoiled kid!” Nolan sneered, his face full of disgust. “I’m telling you, you are signing those papers today, whether you want to or not! I’ve already called my parents and your own manipulative mother. We’re settling the score right now, face to face!” The doorbell rang the moment he finished speaking. When he opened the door, a small crowd filed in. Nolan’s parents, my mother, and… Jenna, clutching Nolan’s arm, wearing a wide-eyed, timid expression. Well. Everyone was here. This wasn’t a discussion about divorce; it felt more like a damn firing squad. The moment my mother saw the mess on the floor, she rushed over and slapped my arm. “You stupid girl! What did you do to make Nolan so angry this time? Didn’t I tell you to stop spending so much money on your brother? Why won’t you ever listen!” There she was. My mother. In her mind, if Nolan and I fought, I was always the one at fault. Because I was the sister with ‘baggage,’ and landing an ‘upstanding man’ like Nolan was a miracle. I rubbed my stinging arm and looked at her coolly. “Mom, is Leo your son, or mine?” My mother’s face went stiff, her eyes darting away before she quickly raised her voice. “What kind of nonsense is that? He’s your little brother! A big sister is like a mother. If you don’t take care of him, who will?” A big sister is like a mother. I chewed on the phrase, finding it utterly, sickeningly ironic. I was nineteen. Pregnant and unmarried. The man vanished without a trace. I’d wanted an abortion, but the doctor warned me my body was unusual—terminating the pregnancy could mean I’d never conceive again. So I kept him. To protect the family’s reputation, to save my father, a lifelong community college professor, from gossip, the newborn was immediately put on my parents’ birth certificate. My son became my ‘brother.’ Leo, Leo. I wasn’t just grieving the deadbeat father; I was grieving the shattered piece of my youth he took. Nolan put his arm around Jenna and walked over, looking self-righteously victimized. “Mother-in-law, I’m not being unreasonable. Sierra is just too much. Look at Jenna, she’s so mature, never spends money carelessly, and stays late to help me with work. And look at Sierra, constantly draining our account for her family.” Jenna, wearing a loose white sundress, subtly cradled her stomach. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “Sierra, please don’t blame Nolan. He’s just under so much stress. Honestly… if you just stop spending so much on your brother, Nolan is still willing to forgive you.” Forgive me? I stood up, my gaze sweeping over every face in the room. The greedy Nolan, the fake Jenna, my biased mother, and his two parents who just nodded along. “Nolan, did you forget who bailed you out last month when you gambled away ten thousand dollars of our savings on a penny stock and lost everything?” Nolan’s face flushed. “You… why bring that up now!” “And you, Jenna.” My eyes settled on her slightly protruding belly. “Three months along, right? That ‘business trip’ Nolan took you on to Cabo last month? The ocean-view suite was charged to my secondary credit card.” Jenna’s face instantly went white. She instinctively tried to hide behind Nolan. Nolan’s parents’ eyes lit up at the word ‘pregnant.’ Their stern expressions instantly melted into eager, affectionate concern for Jenna. My mother froze. She pointed a trembling finger at Nolan. “You… you cheated?” Nolan stopped pretending. He jutted his neck out. “So what if I did! Jenna is carrying the next heir to the Nolan name! Sierra couldn’t give me a child. Am I not allowed to find someone who can?” Couldn’t give me a child? I looked down at my own flat stomach. Three years ago, I was pregnant once. Nolan had just gotten a promotion, gotten blackout drunk celebrating, and pushed me in a drunken rage when he came home. I lost the baby. He had begged for my forgiveness on his knees at the hospital, swearing he’d make it up to me for the rest of his life. Now, it was his weapon. “Fine. Since we’ve laid everything bare.” I picked up the pen and quickly signed the divorce papers. “The divorce is on. But let me warn you, Nolan, you won’t take one penny more than you’re owed.” “That’s not up to you!” Nolan grabbed the papers, a triumphant smirk on his face. “Sierra, I hear your little brother got into some trouble at school recently. Put a kid in the hospital, didn’t he? Without a settlement, he’s getting expelled. If you agree to sign the condo over to me, I’ll loan you the cash to fix it.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Leo got into a fight? Why didn’t I know? Just then, my phone rang. It was a video call request. The contact name: Little Trouble. That was my nickname for Leo. Nolan snatched the phone, instantly answered, put it on speaker, and mirrored the screen onto the living room’s large flat-screen TV. “Perfect! Let this spoiled brat hear it, too! He’s not getting another cent from me!” The TV screen flashed, connecting the call. The background wasn’t a high school dorm or a police station. It looked like… an incredibly luxurious corner office. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city’s most glittering downtown skyline glowed at night. Leo, wearing the expensive sneakers I’d just bought him, was sitting back in a leather club chair, his legs crossed, holding a limited-edition gaming console. He was only thirteen, but his features were already sharp. Those startling, intense eyes were an exact replica of the other man’s. “Sis?” Leo lifted his head lazily, a lollipop stick hanging from his mouth. “What took so long? I ran out of allowance. Send me eight hundred more. I need to buy a new skin.” Nolan’s anger spiked, hitting the ceiling. He jabbed a finger at the screen, unleashing a torrent of abuse. “Leo! You lowlife scum, you useless bastard! Your sister and I are getting divorced! Don’t you dare show your face around us again begging for money! And every dollar your sister gave you came from my account! You better spit it all back right now, or I’ll call the school and report you for fraud!” The living room fell into a deathly silence. My mother’s face was chalk-white. She tried to clap a hand over Nolan’s mouth, but he roughly shoved her away. On the other end, Leo froze. He slowly lowered the game console. The lazy indifference in his eyes was instantly replaced by a sharp, lethal glare. “What did you just call me?” “I called you a bastard! A blood-sucking parasite! What are you going to do about it?” Nolan was manic, screaming, as if years of resentment were finally being dumped onto a child. “Tell your trashy sister to take you and get out! The farther, the better!” Leo suddenly smiled. The smile was ice-cold, unsettling. He didn’t reply to Nolan. Instead, he turned his head and yelled out to someone off-camera: “Dad, some guy just called your son a bastard and your girl a tramp.”

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I found out my brother was an undercover cop the day I was kidnapped. The drug lord forced him to inject me with a high-purity, experimental substance. It was the only way to earn enough trust to handle the shipment. From that moment on, I, who had dreamed of becoming a prima ballerina, was turned into an addict—a pariah everyone kept their distance from. My brother, Caden, knelt before me, his eyes raw and bloodshot. “I ruined you, Sloan… Just hold on. I swear I will make you well again.” That promise was the anchor that kept me biting back on countless nights when I wanted to end it all. The breaking point came this New Year’s Day when Caden’s superior officer came to our house for a welfare visit. A familiar coldness crawled up my spine. As the officer watched in stunned silence, I convulsed, knocking an entire serving dish of holiday casserole onto the floor. Mom instantly lunged forward, pressing me down hard and explaining on instinct. “I am so sorry, Chief! She… she has epilepsy…” Caden hauled me up and locked me inside my bedroom. A long time later, I heard strained, quiet voices drifting from the living room. “Caden, this family… we are barely holding on.” “Mom, sometimes… sometimes I wish she had died the day she was taken, instead of living like this…” Yet, when I finally gave them their wish and died the very next day, why did their tears look like they had lost everything? 1 The withdrawal was seizing me again. Mom held me tightly, stopping me from clawing at my own hair. It felt like tiny insects were crawling through my bone marrow, alternating between freezing cold and searing hot. My consciousness frayed under the torture, my voice a thin, reedy whisper. “Mom, please…” Before I could finish, Mom raised her hand and delivered a slap that snapped my head sideways. “Be quiet!” Her eyes were edged with a desperate kind of ferocity. “Your father and your brother are police officers. How can you be doing this? How can you disgrace them? If your Dad in heaven knew you were like this—a shell of yourself—it would kill him all over again!” To keep the secret, Caden hadn’t told her the truth. He had just said I’d been carelessly dosed by someone when I was out with friends. The door burst open. It was Caden. He dropped the things in his hands and rushed to stand in front of me. “Mom, don’t blame Sloan. She… she was victimized.” Tears streamed from Mom’s swollen, red eyes. Her voice was choked. “If she hadn’t been out running around with God knows what kind of lowlifes, how would this have happened?!” “If she hadn’t gone to those places, who would have had the chance to do this to her?!” She started sobbing uncontrollably. “My perfect daughter, my little girl… my daughter…” She dissolved into wrenching cries. Caden’s face cycled through pain and internal conflict. Finally, he started hitting himself, open-handed slaps across his own face. “Mom, hit me. It’s my fault… Don’t hurt her.” He hit himself hard. His face quickly began to swell. Mom rushed forward, wrapping her arms around both of us. She wept with a terrifying, heart-wrenching sound. I watched my nearest and dearest break down before me. And yet, my eyes remained dry. I was numb. I stared blankly at the ceiling. Only a few months ago, my life felt full of infinite possibility. Accepted into my dream school, ready to step onto the big stage. Now, all that was left was a hollow casing—a body I inhabited only so they wouldn’t hurt more. Caden eventually managed to coax Mom back to her room. He came back into mine, crouching by the bed. He carefully avoided the bruises on my arms and took my hand. “Sloan, I have failed you…” He had said those words too many times. “I found a specialist overseas. They have a new drug in clinical trials. Once it’s approved, you’ll get better…” “Later… later we can start slow. Dancing isn’t totally off the table…” My hand was ice-cold. His palm was slick with sweat. I lowered my head and pressed my fingers into my own calf. It felt soft and spongy, like it was stuffed with cotton. Before, when I flexed, I could see beautiful, taut muscle definition. I closed my eyes, refusing to think about it. “Caden, stop torturing yourself.” In this state, I couldn’t dance. Not ever again. “How can you call this torturing myself!” His voice spiked suddenly, his eyes immediately welling up. “You will get better, do you hear me? I’m staking my life on it, Sloan, you will!” I nodded and quickly changed the subject. “Caden, help me walk. I want to go outside.” I hadn’t left this room in weeks. Thinking his words had worked, he happily helped me up, offering to walk me around the block. As we walked through the living room, I noticed the top of the entertainment center was empty. It used to be lined with photos of me dancing since I was a child. The frame from my first big award, hanging on the wall, was gone too. It left a clean, rectangular outline where the sun hadn’t faded the paint. The trophies, medals, and certificates had all been boxed up. Inside an open cardboard box, right on top, was the photo of me winning the gold medal for Giselle last year. Caden’s grip on my elbow tightened instantly. He offered a rushed, flustered explanation. “Mom… Mom was afraid you’d dwell on the past, so she packed it away. Please don’t be mad…” I cut him off. “I know. I don’t blame Mom.” “I… I don’t want to see them either, anymore.” He stared at me, his hand clutching my wrist, not letting go for a long time. In my peripheral vision, I saw the master bedroom door, which had been left slightly ajar, click quietly shut. “Sloan, I got you a New Year’s gift. You’re going to love it.” To distract me, he quickly spoke up. Then, with a mysterious air, he pulled out an elegant shopping bag. I paused, then opened it. Inside was the red, mermaid-style cocktail dress I had wanted for ages. I was completely stunned. Caden had remembered that I wanted this specific dress. But he had forgotten why. I wanted it to wear on stage to accept my next major award. 2 Caden urged me, his tone artificially cheerful, to try the dress on. “New year, new clothes. Go try it on quickly. We’ll show Mom when you’re done.” I pinched the soft fabric between my fingers. My fingertips were cold. He pressed my shoulder and ushered me into the room, saying jokingly. “Don’t be shy in front of your big brother. Take your time changing. I’ll wait right outside.” Closing the door, I took off my sweats. The person in the mirror had ribs showing clearly, and skin that was an unhealthy, bluish-white. The firm, fluid muscle lines I used to have were now just a layer of thin skin stretched over bone. Mechanically, I shook out the red dress and slipped it on. The waist was loose. I stared at the skeleton draped in the gorgeous red silk in the mirror. My stomach flipped with nausea. “Sloan? Are you ready? How does it fit?” Caden tapped lightly on the door. His voice held a tense nervousness. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Silence hung heavy in the air. He immediately forced a smile. “… My sister looks good in anything. This color really brightens your complexion.” His voice was dry. “It’s just… a little too big. You need to eat more, starting now.” He avoided my eyes. I couldn’t stand the oppressive silence. “Caden, I really want to go for a walk.” A look of relief flashed across his face. “Let’s go. I’ll go with you.” We walked slowly around the complex. A light snow was beginning to fall. I suddenly saw a small dog whose paw was frozen to the ice on the ornamental pond. It was barely breathing, unable to even whimper. I was about to tug on Caden’s sleeve. That was when his phone vibrated. “Sloan, I…” He clenched the phone in his hand, his knuckles white. “Something came up with the unit—it’s urgent. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Go home first and wait for me, okay? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” I nodded. After some hesitation, I rescued the puppy. I was soaked and freezing. After dropping the dog off at the building management office, I went home. The first thing I did was rush into the bathroom and dry-heave over the toilet. Tears sprang from my eyes. That was when Mom opened the door. She froze at the sight of me hunched over the toilet bowl. Her eyes instantly turned cold as ice. “You touched it again, didn’t you?” Her voice trembled. “Sloan, you are truly beyond hope. Look at you. How are you anything like my daughter anymore?” Her gaze was nearly despairing, as if she was crushed beneath an unbearable weight. She violently yanked me off the floor and lashed out with accusations. “Do you know your brother is up for a major commendation this year? Can you stop screwing things up for him right now?! Do you want to drag him down, ruin him, and destroy this family for good?!” “I didn’t—” I was just with Caden. But before I could speak, she raised her hand. Another slap, stinging my cheek. More painful than the slap was the disappointment and contempt in her eyes. “How could I have given birth to such a… thing…” She broke down crying. I slid down onto the floor, staring at the bathroom ceiling. I recalled the past few minutes. After dropping the puppy off, I had run into Mrs. Peterson from upstairs having a seizure. I rushed to stop her from biting her tongue. But I was too late. She had thrown up all over me. The smell was awful, mixed with the wet, fishy scent of the puppy. It had made me dry-heave uncontrollably. But all she saw was me clutching the toilet. And she assumed I had relapsed. Tears traced paths down my cheeks. I finally understood, with chilling clarity. I had become the permanent, unforgivable stain on my father’s, mother’s, and brother’s lives. But I had once shone so brightly. I had once been cherished, held in their palms as their greatest treasure. I reached out, trying to touch Mom’s hand, wanting to tell her. Don’t cry. Your daughter didn’t let you down. But the moment I touched her, she recoiled sharply. We both froze. I closed my eyes in self-derision. God, I was so tired. 3 On the first day of the new year, Caden had to attend his commendation ceremony. Mom prepared breakfast and lunch for us. Before leaving, she tapped on my door, reminding me to eat. Then she locked me in and left with Caden. Listening to the click of the front door, I walked out of my bedroom. I looked at the apartment, now scrubbed clean of any trace of my former life. I walked to the window and resolutely climbed out. Mom. Caden. I am so tired. I’m going to go see Dad. My body hit the ground with a heavy thud. Soon, the sirens started. My face was already unrecognizable. I was only wearing the red dress Caden had given me. No one would know who I was. I sighed a tiny breath of relief. It was better if no one did. After I died, I didn’t vanish. My soul simply returned to the apartment. There was an invisible, transparent wall preventing me from leaving. The downstairs area grew quiet again. The smell of cooking drifted up from outside. I heard the front door open. Mom walked in, her face beaming, carrying a large bouquet of lilies. Caden had another bar on his shoulder epaulet. They were talking about the ceremony. “Caden, who was that cute girl who presented you with the flowers on stage?” Mom gave him a knowing look, then gestured with the lilies in her hand. Caden flushed shyly, quickly waving her off. “Just a co-worker, Mom. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have just brought lilies.” Mom reached out and pinched his bright red earlobe. “Sounds like you’re disappointed she didn’t bring you roses? Lilies, lilies, lasting harmony—you young people don’t know anything. I think that girl is quite nice—” Mom’s cheerful tone died abruptly when she saw the untouched food sitting on the kitchen table. Caden followed her gaze. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a deep frown. “Why hasn’t Sloan eaten anything?” He started walking toward my room. Mom suddenly grabbed his arm. “Let her stew. She’s an adult. She has to take responsibility for her own mistakes. She can’t just throw a tantrum and hide. I’ve spoiled her too much.” Caden glanced at the table and lowered his voice, as if afraid I’d hear. “Mom, don’t talk like that. She’s been very strong, she…” Something in his words suddenly struck a nerve with Mom. Her voice rose sharply. “Strong? If she was strong, would she have gone to those trashy places and picked up that stuff? I should have chained her to her bed! Saved her from throwing herself away!” “Mom!” Caden’s voice was urgent, his volume involuntarily increasing. “Don’t say that. It’s not like that. The truth is…” He suddenly stopped, as if someone had choked him. Not a single word came out. I understood. He had an oath. He couldn’t tell her. He was also afraid the truth would crush Mom or put her in danger. But it didn’t matter now. Let her keep the misunderstanding. Perhaps it would make her hurt less. Mom stared at Caden, sharply sensing his distress. “Are you two keeping something from me?” Caden instinctively shook his head. “No, Mom. Nothing. Sloan knows she made a mistake. She never wanted this…” Mom waved a hand impatiently. She had clearly tired of those words. No matter how many times they were repeated, the proud daughter she remembered was never coming back. That night, Caden brought home my favorite snacks and knocked on my door. “Sloan, don’t be mad at Mom. This is hard on her too…” When I didn’t open the door, he sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this, and I know you feel cheated, but please think about Mom. She doesn’t know anything.” “I’ll leave the snacks here by your door. Get them when you’re ready.” He stood there for a moment longer, then slowly put the bag down. His face held an immense fatigue, and a flicker of disappointment. He must have thought I was sulking, mad at Mom, and avoiding both of them. But he didn’t know that I would never walk out of that door again. And I would never be mad at them again. How could the dead hold grudges against the living? 4 The next morning, Caden left for work. He saw the snacks still sitting by the door and paused. He knocked once, then sighed. “Sloan, when I get back, I’ll take you for a walk, or wherever you want to go. I promise I won’t leave you alone again this time.” There was no reply from inside. Caden walked away, his steps heavy. Mom got up and glanced at the snacks on the floor. Her expression mirrored Caden’s. But she didn’t knock on my door. She seemed determined to teach me a lesson. When she walked into the kitchen, she noticed the balcony window was open just a crack. She froze for a second, then casually shut it. She prepared and ate her breakfast as usual. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. It was urgent. My soul leaped up. The police? Mom got up to answer it. I floated over. But I saw Mrs. Peterson holding several bags of fruit. “Evelyn, where’s Sloan? I came to thank her.” Mom seemed confused, but invited Mrs. Peterson in. The older woman grabbed Mom’s hand. “Evelyn, you’re a gem. My kids are far away, and I’m so lucky you look out for me. Sloan, she takes after you—kind-hearted, exactly your temper.” Mom hadn’t quite processed it, accepting the fruit stiffly. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Mrs. Peterson, that’s kind of you. Just being neighbors. But you came to thank Sloan?” “Yes! If it weren’t for Sloan, I’d be dead. I had a seizure two days ago, collapsed on the ground. It was your Sloan—she put her hand in my mouth to keep me from biting my tongue. I even threw up all over her. If she doesn’t mind, I want to take her out to buy some new clothes today.” Mom froze completely at Mrs. Peterson’s words, her eyes widening. “Mrs. Peterson, are you saying… that was your vomit on Sloan the other day?” “She saved you?” Mom finally registered the truth, and a flash of guilt crossed her eyes. “Yes, she did! Why isn’t she here? Go call her out. I want to tell her myself.” Mom shook her head. A look of resigned guilt appeared on her face as she forced a small, apologetic laugh. “I misunderstood her over this yesterday. She’s giving me the silent treatment now. Please sit down, Auntie. I’ll go get her.” Mom walked toward my bedroom door, step by step. Just as she raised her hand to knock. The doorbell rang again. More insistent and urgent this time. Mom frowned instinctively and went to open the door first. Three people in police uniforms showed their badges. Mom recognized the lead officer from the commendation ceremony yesterday. Her face went pale, and she asked anxiously. “Did something happen to my Caden?” The officer’s expression was somber. He shook his head. “Ma’am, it’s not Caden. It’s your daughter, Sloan.” “Someone jumped from an apartment building in the complex yesterday. We suspect it may be Sloan. We need you to come with us to make an identification.”

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The moment I agreed to take Rhys Easton back, his so-called ‘sister-figure’ was right back on his lap. Her arm draped around his neck, she shot me a condescending smirk. “Chill out, Avery. Don’t get all psycho-jealous again. It’s no big deal. You know I don’t even like this jerk.” I simply offered a thin smile and said, “It’s fine.” From the second we reunited, I had committed to becoming Rhys Easton’s idea of the perfect girlfriend. No more raging fits of jealousy over his casual banter with his female ‘bro.’ No more secretly installing GPS trackers on his phone to monitor his every move. Now, even if he and his sister-figure shared a joke-kiss, slept in the same bed, or—as they had last night—had a drunken hookup, I could deliver the morning-after pill without a flicker of emotion. “I get it,” I said calmly, placing the water bottle and foil packet on his nightstand. “It was an accident. You were just drunk. I’m not mad.” It wasn’t because my love for Rhys Easton was that deep. It was because the System had promised me that anything I gained from him—any physical asset—I could take back with me to my original world. I wasn’t going to waste three years of my life with him for nothing. 1 “Why aren’t you angry?” Rhys looked at me, his brow tightly furrowed. I already knew what I would find behind the door when an anonymous text led me here. I used to be angry. I used to be an inferno of rage. From the start, Rhys had indulged his childhood friend, Dakota Riley. He called her his best friend, his ride-or-die. But when he started eating off her fork, I’d flipped the table. When they lost a game of Truth or Dare and kissed, I’d slapped Dakota so hard her face swelled up, and then I put a tracker on Rhys’s phone. His friends hated me. Rhys called me crazy, hysterical. Dakota, crying, swore she’d cut him out of her life. The breaking point was when Dakota fell critically ill with a 104-degree fever. After she was rushed to the ER and stabilized, she looked at Rhys, weak but furious. “Why did you even bother, you asshole? Your psycho-girlfriend is just going to show up and beat me senseless again. She’ll finish the job for the fever, you idiot!” The fear of losing Dakota was what finally made Rhys snap. He dumped me. I had only come to this world for him. Once the initial mission failed, the System went silent. I was stranded. No documentation, no degree, no way to get home. I went from the pampered girlfriend of the City’s richest heir to scrubbing floors and waiting tables. The fall from grace was devastating. Rhys and Dakota had even come to look down on me once. “When you finally learn some grace and forgiveness, when you can actually tolerate Dakota, maybe I’ll consider taking you back.” Then, the System reappeared. I swore I would never endure that kind of humiliation and pain again. I smiled, my voice slow and steady. “Because…” (Because I don’t love you.) “Because this was an accident. It wasn’t your true intention.” I had finally mastered the “tolerance and grace” he demanded. Rhys watched me in silence for a few seconds, then let out a visible sigh of relief. On the bed, Dakota, covered in hickey marks, impatiently threw a pillow at Rhys. “Rhys Easton, your technique is awful. You hurt me, and then you wouldn’t stop when I asked. Annoying.” She waved him away. “Now get out. Stop with the nauseating couple act. Trying to make me feel bad for being single, asshole?” On the drive back, Rhys kept glancing at me. Once I was buckled in, he spoke, his voice low. “Avery, you’ve changed. A lot.” I was scrolling through my phone, comparing prices on bespoke high-end jewelry, and didn’t look up. “I love you, of course I’m going to change for you,” I cooed, flashing the phone screen at him. “It’s my birthday, remember? I want this necklace. Can you get it for me?” I had chosen the most expensive piece with the highest collector’s value. Rhys was the sole heir to an immense fortune. He was never stingy, but he was completely devoid of romance. He usually only bought me ridiculously priced things after I had a jealous fit about him and Dakota. It was guilt money. Pure and simple. Rhys hadn’t answered when Dakota suddenly called. 2 “Get your ass back here now! That… stuff you left on me leaked all over the floor and I slipped and can’t get up.” Dakota’s voice was loud, even though he wasn’t on speaker. She seemed to want me to hear. “Are you trying to murder me so your girlfriend can take my place? Hurry up, or I’m cutting you out of my life, you ungrateful jerk!” This was the same old routine. In the past, no matter how much I’d begged or pleaded, Rhys would have left, probably accusing me of being dramatic and manipulative. But now, I smiled sweetly at him. “Go ahead. I can grab an Uber or the subway home.” He froze, his thin lips pressed into a line. Then, astonishingly, he spoke into the phone. “Can’t you handle it yourself? I’m going home with Avery. It’s her birthday.” I was genuinely taken aback, but I immediately suppressed the flicker of warmth I felt. Don’t be a fool. Don’t be sentimental. I didn’t hear what Dakota said next, but Rhys eventually pulled the car over and asked me to get out. He looked genuinely guilty. “I’ll get you the necklace, I promise. I just need to check on her first. I’ll come back tonight, and we’ll celebrate.” But by the time evening rolled around, Rhys was—as usual—missing in action. The promised necklace? It was already on Dakota’s neck, judging by the triumphant posts on her social media account. I wasn’t upset. Every single item Rhys promised me, I could take with me when I left. “Host, are you sure you want to leave this world? The male lead’s love index is at ninety percent, you know. His family is so rich. If you stay and marry him, you’ll escape your old, miserable life.” I shrugged internally. “That’s still a ten percent failure rate, and I’m not interested in eating lukewarm leftovers. Who cares about the scraps?” He’d been at one-hundred percent love before, but he’d still dropped ten points for Dakota. He could lose it all again just as easily. Love, in the end, was too brittle. Money was hard, cold, and solid. At ten p.m., Rhys finally called, saying Dakota had thrown me a surprise birthday party. When I arrived, they were playing Truth or Dare. Dakota was holding up a deck of cards, a look of gleeful malice on her face. “Whoever pulls an Ace gets the grand prize: ten seconds of kissing me! Don’t be shy, boys. A kiss from me is worth more than gold.” Rhys turned his card. It was the Ace of Spades. The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Everyone immediately looked at me. I walked over to Rhys, sat down calmly beside him, and pulled out my phone. “Go for it,” I said cheerfully. “I’ll record it. It’ll be a great memory for you two to look back on when you’re old.” No screaming. No table-flipping. No cursing. My expression was perfectly serene. Rhys’s face darkened. The next second, Dakota hooked her arms around his neck. “Avery gave the green light, so what, are you a coward now? You were manhandling me all night last night, and now you can’t kiss your sister-figure? Is that what I taught you?” She shoved him away in fake annoyance. “Whatever. If you’re not willing, I’ll find someone else to sub in.” She reached for the guy next to her, but Rhys yanked her back, hard. They started kissing. It was a vicious, competitive exchange, lasting far longer than the ten seconds. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, the surrounding crowd started cheering, elbowing me in the arm. “Attagirl, Avery. You’re finally being chill about this. You’re smart. Since you’re so understanding, we’ll start inviting you out with the guys.” I was finally accepted by Rhys’s inner circle. How wonderfully ironic, just when I stopped caring about him entirely. Rhys wasn’t kissing with any real passion. Every few seconds, his eyes darted to me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, so I just gave him a thumbs-up, signaling that he was doing a great job. Rhys’s face turned glacial. He abruptly shoved Dakota away, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out into the hallway. “Why don’t you get jealous?” 3 I paused, then laughed lightly. “You’re siblings, aren’t you? Isn’t kissing your sibling normal?” I had thrown his own words, the very words he’d used to wound me, right back in his face. Rhys’s expression was an ugly mask of displeasure. “This new you… I can’t read you at all. Just stop hiding what you’re thinking, okay?” “I’m not hiding anything. What’s wrong with you?” I countered. His voice rose in frustration. “It’s your attitude! The way you’re acting! It just… makes me uncomfortable.” I feigned confusion. “What attitude do you want? Do you want me to grab Dakota’s hair and slap her until—” My sentence was cut short by his sudden roar of anger. “Do you have to be a crazy bitch who only knows how to hit people? Try touching her again, I dare you!” I stared at him, saying nothing. Rhys couldn’t articulate why he was so enraged. In the midst of the stalemate, Dakota ran out, wrapped her arms around Rhys’s elbow, and playfully punched him on the arm. “What are you two fighting about this time? Don’t bully Avery. You know she’s sensitive. Come on, be a man, take a page from my book.” She winked at me. “I never bother with little people or women. Let’s go cut the cake.” Rhys’s friends, though morally questionable, were generous when it came to appearances. I walked away from that party with nearly a million dollars in gifts. “Avery, I didn’t get you a gift, but I’ll give you a demo of the new moves I taught Rhys in bed last night. His old ones are boring as hell. And he kept calling me ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’—so tacky. Really—” Dakota’s bragging was interrupted by the sound of Rhys slamming his phone against the wall. “Enough! Why are you talking about this?” Dakota rolled her eyes. “I can talk about whatever I want! You were willing to do it, but you’re too scared to let me talk about it? Why? Was it not you calling me ‘baby’?” She sat down intimately next to me and took my hand. The necklace around her throat slipped out of her shirt—the one Rhys had promised me. I stared at it, a fraction of a second too long. Dakota noticed. “This necklace is eighty million dollars. They called it ‘Heart of True Love’—such a cheesy name. But hey, the ungrateful son bought it for me, so I’ll take it.” Rhys looked sick. Instinctively, I reached out. Rhys’s expression snapped into horror, and he roughly yanked my wrist away, shoving me aside. “Are you trying to hurt Dakota again? When are you going to get rid of this toxic need to attack her?” My head slammed against the edge of the low table. I felt the warm flow of blood instantly. “You…” Rhys stammered, his mouth open. It hurt, sure. But it was nothing new. Rhys had let me suffer plenty of small, stinging wounds for Dakota’s sake. The difference was that this time, the wound in my heart was already gone. I stood up calmly, walked over to Dakota, and plucked a stray strand of hair off the surface of the diamond necklace. “It’s a beautiful piece.” A snagged hair could easily pull a diamond out of its setting, devaluing it considerably. The room was silent. I looked at Rhys, perfectly composed. “I’m going to the ER to get stitched up. You should stay here and keep the party going.” Rhys followed me out. He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes full of anguish. “I’m sorry, I just had a knee-jerk reaction. Let me come with you to the doct—” “Rhys! Get back here! Dakota just passed out!” Rhys looked back and forth, torn. As his perfect, understanding girlfriend, I had to be empathetic. “Go back. She looks worse than I do.” His guilt deepened. “I… I’ll go back, then. I was wrong. I’ll make it up to you. Send me everything you want—I’ll buy you all of it!” The ATM had spoken. There was no way I was going to refuse. I was ruthless, selecting close to half a billion dollars in high-end assets. Perhaps due to extreme guilt, Rhys authorized the transfers without batting an eye. “Avery, I did a lot of thinking yesterday. I think it’s time we got married. Next week, maybe.” I paused mid-scroll, looking up at him with a playful smile. “Sounds great. What kind of prenup and settlement are we talking about?” Rhys frowned slightly. “I don’t really know about the specifics, but I promise I’ll make you the happiest bride in the entire City.” 4 I thought Rhys was just placating me with a fleeting promise, and I was only in it for the collateral. But he actually started planning the wedding. When his assistant came over to present the list of assets to be put in my name, it took half an hour just to read through it. “Mrs. Easton, the boss is so good to you. A royal princess wouldn’t receive half this much.” I just smiled, asking the System in my mind. “Anything designated for me, I can take, correct?” “Yes, Host. Also, I must inform you that the male lead’s love index has increased by five points.” “Oh.” And what of it? On the day of the wedding, I was debating whether to simply dematerialize in front of him just to watch him panic. Rhys burst into the room, his expression frantic. He walked straight up to me, eyes red-rimmed, and couldn’t speak. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked the System. “Dakota Riley staged a fake kidnapping because she’s pregnant and doesn’t want him to marry you. Also, she’s arranged for the fake kidnappers to target you next.” “Do I leave now? One less headache.” A headache? Not quite. “What happened?” I asked gently, taking Rhys’s trembling hand. He gasped for breath, his voice raw. “Dakota was kidnapped, Avery. I… I might have to postpone the wedding.” “It’s okay. Go. You have to find Dakota. A life is more important than a wedding.” Rhys hugged me tightly, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you, Avery. When I get her back, I’ll make it up to you. I swear.” After he left, the wedding was canceled. On my way back to the apartment, I was ambushed and knocked unconscious. When I woke, I was tied up next to Dakota. One of the kidnappers held a knife, tracing the blade along Dakota’s throat, then mine. He looked at Rhys, who had arrived with a briefcase. “You have ten million dollars. It can only save one person. Your sister-figure, or your future wife?” Rhys clenched his fist, his eyes bloodshot. Before he could speak, Dakota cried out, hysterical. “Rhys! I’m pregnant! It’s your baby! Are you going to let both of us die?” “You’re pregnant?” Rhys sounded stunned. Dakota nodded desperately. “Rhys, my stomach hurts so badly! Save our child!” When he looked back at me, his eyes were full of tortured anguish. “I’m sorry, Avery. Dakota is in pain, I have to take her to the hospital first. But I will come back for you, I promise.” I burst into a desperate performance of tears and screams, struggling until the ropes cut into my wrists. “Rhys! I don’t want to die! I’m your fiancée! How can you leave me here to die?” Despite my tearful pleas, Rhys was silent. He lowered his head, trembling, and handed the ten million to the kidnappers. He picked up Dakota and looked back at me. “I’ll compensate you, Avery. Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.” His choice was solid, immutable. The person who mattered most to him was, and always would be, Dakota Riley. I offered a small, terrible smile, my eyes wide with manufactured despair. “I want your company. Do you still promise?” “I’ve already decided you’re my wife. You can have the company. Everything I have is yours. Just this once, Avery, please. Just this once. I promise I’ll be back for you. Wait for me!” He turned and walked away without looking back. I let the tears vanish from my face, replacing the anguish with a strange, cold indifference. “Rhys Easton, I don’t want you anymore.” His figure paused momentarily before disappearing from sight. “System, activate de-linking.” I was finally going home.

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After my mother and I married into the billionaire class, she decided being a shopping-obsessed socialite wasn’t enough. She wanted to be the Wicked Stepmother. To get rid of my stepbrother and monopolize the entire family fortune, one day she’d dose his juice with a laxative, the next she’d stick thumbtacks in his shoes. Our fabulous new life in a mansion was a daily circus of escalating, psychotic drama. Then, Robert’s Unattainable Ideal—the woman he’d loved and lost—saw her chance. She used the chaos my mother created as cover, setting a fire that severely burned my stepbrother, perfectly framing my mom for the attack. I, who should have been lounging by the pool as a carefree rich kid, was caught in the crossfire. My mother and I were thrown into the open ocean to die. Now I was back. Reborn. I watched my mother, Vivian, once again reaching for the bottle of laxatives, her perfectly manicured hand hovering over a glass of fresh-pressed orange juice. I pressed down hard on her wrist, fighting to stop her self-destructive insanity. “It’s just about teaching Leo a lesson, right, Mom? Don’t worry, you can leave the hard work to me.” This time, I had to take control. I had to permanently derail the horrific fate that ended us both. 1 While she was still frozen in shock, I quickly swapped the orange juice for the foul, hyper-bitter green detox concoction the chef had made for her cleanse. “Just wait, Mom. I’m going to make big brother cry, just for you.” Fearing she’d snap out of it, I clutched the noxious green liquid and stumbled over to Leo. “Leo, Mom says you have to drink this.” He shot me a glacial look, his handsome young face etched with defensive coldness. “Your psycho mom trying to give me the runs again?” I couldn’t blame him for the brutal tone. The last time he drank something from Vivian, he ended up hospitalized with severe dehydration, solidifying her reputation as the toxic stepmother. To immediately pivot Leo’s perception, I took two gulps of the bitter stuff myself. The flavor was a physical shock. “Mom said you have acne because you’re ‘too heated,’ so she wants you to drink this detox to cool down,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “Your face will clear up after this, and you’ll be back to being the hottest guy in school.” Leo watched me, tears stinging my eyes from the sheer bitterness, yet I was earnestly holding out the glass for him. He hesitated for a few seconds, then snatched the glass, swallowing the whole thing in one defiant gulp. “Done. Now stop bothering me.” The intense, bitter shock hit his system, and his eyes welled up instantly. I pulled a lollipop out of my pocket, unwrapped it, and shoved it into his mouth. “Here. Sucker. Takes the nasty taste out.” Leo looked utterly assaulted. He stared at me for a long moment, not even wiping away the tears still tracking down his cheeks. I gave him a mischievous, relieved smile and bolted back into the kitchen. “Mom, see? Big brother is crying and he can’t stop!” Though completely baffled, Vivian pulled me into a proud hug. “Stella, my genius! You’re finally thinking! Leo is the biggest obstacle to us getting the money!” “Once we team up and take him down, darling, this entire fortune belongs to us!” I hugged my beautiful but brainless mother back, silently weeping inside. Our billionaire father, Robert, treated me wonderfully, not like some piece of luggage. He gave me everything I could ever want. I was already perfectly content. I was a non-blood-related stepdaughter. Why should I scheme to take everything from his only son? But I knew I couldn’t change my mother’s mind overnight. I had no choice but to follow her around, secretly implementing my plan to change our fate. Night fell. Sure enough, Vivian crept into Leo’s room and started sticking thumbtacks into his dress shoes. The moment she was gone, I slipped in. I swapped out the thumbtacks for something else entirely. 2 The next morning, my mother stood poised, ready for the drama. “That stray dog’s child thinks he can compete with me for the inheritance? I’m going to make him suffer today!” Leo, as usual, skipped breakfast and headed toward the door to grab his backpack and shoes for school. The second he slipped his feet into his loafers, he let out a strangled cry of agony. “Who put an acupressure mat in my damn shoe?” Vivian sprayed a mouthful of coffee across the room. “A what? Where are my thumbtacks?” I quickly clamped my hand over her mouth. “Mom, keep your voice down! If anyone hears you admitting to trying to hurt Leo, you’re finished!” That was exactly what happened in the last life. Leo’s feet were bloody messes. He was in the hospital for two weeks. When Robert discovered Vivian was the culprit, he nearly handed her over to the police. She only got off after days of humiliating begging. The stain on her reputation was what gave Serena, Robert’s manipulative ex, her opening later on. I quickly pitched my alternative plan. “The acupressure insoles are perfect! He’s in pain, but he can’t report us. It’s a win-win!” As Vivian started to process this, I rushed over and grabbed Leo’s arm. “Big brother, Mom says these insoles massage your feet, help your circulation, and make you grow taller!” “Stella has a pair too! We can grow taller together!” I lifted my foot to show him the exact same spikey insole in my own sneaker. Leo’s profanity was visible on his face, but seeing my innocent, eager expression, he choked it back. He yanked his arm free, shouting impatiently, “Stop touching my stuff! And mind your own business!” But for all his bluster, a few seconds later, Leo slipped the loafers back on and hobbled out the door. In the last life, Leo always spoke so cruelly to me. I hated him, so I never intervened with my mother’s antics. But later, I understood. Leo lost his mother at birth, and Robert was always too busy running his company to be a father. He was lonely and isolated. Then he gained a vicious stepmother. It was a miserable situation for any kid. My heart ached with sudden empathy. I grabbed a milk carton and a pastry, stuffing them into his free hand. “You have to eat breakfast, Leo. You need to eat to grow tall with Stella.” He looked completely shocked again. He studied me with a complex expression for a long time, then quietly left, eating the pastry. Vivian threw her arms around me, praising me wildly. “Stella, you’re so smart! Look at him wincing with every step! He must be dying!” “His miserable face makes me so mad! Think of another way to get back at him!” I fought the urge to strangle her and opted for creative misdirection instead. “Didn’t he just tell us to mind our own business? The more he doesn’t want us involved, the more we should!” “He hates eating with us. We should force him to eat huge meals, smother him with expensive food every night, and turn him into a hideous, uncomfortable fat boy!” Vivian slapped her knee, declaring me a genius. That evening, the moment Leo got home, Vivian dragged him to the dining table. “From now on, you will eat exactly what I tell you to eat, every single meal!” Before Leo could react, plates of braised pork belly, abalone, and sticky ribs were piled onto his plate. I personally peeled two massive shrimp and held them to his mouth. “Big brother, you’re too skinny. You need to eat all the good meat!” Leo’s mouth twitched, his fury visible but trapped. Vivian only leaned in closer, shoving a massive chicken drumstick directly into his mouth. “I told you to eat! You don’t leave this table until your plate is clean!” she hissed, a triumphant, wicked gleam in her eyes. But just at that moment, Robert and Serena—the Unattainable Ideal—walked through the door. 3 Serena saw Vivian holding Leo down, her face twisted in a malicious grin. She pounced immediately. “Vivian, you wicked creature! I knew you were abusing Leo again!” “The staff told me everything! This monster forced Leo to drink poisonous juice and made him cry! She put nails in his shoes so he couldn’t walk! This malicious gold-digger belongs in prison!” Serena always positioned herself as Leo’s godmother, constantly antagonizing my mom. In the previous life, she was the one who ruthlessly burned Leo and then manipulated him into naming Vivian as the culprit, leading to our deaths. I watched Robert’s face flush with rage. He raised his hand, ready to strike Vivian. I frantically jumped forward. “My mother gave Leo bitter detox juice, not poison, and she put in massage insoles, not nails! Ask Leo!” Robert froze, his hand suspended in the air. He looked at Leo, doubtful. “Is Stella telling the truth?” Leo looked at me with a peculiar expression. My stomach dropped. I thought he was about to seize the moment to finally expose my mother. Instead, Leo calmly removed the chicken drumstick from his mouth and said faintly, “Yes.” “The detox juice cleared up my acne.” “And the acupressure insoles… after a while, they’re actually really comfortable. They relax my feet, and I don’t get tired when I play basketball.” Vivian and Serena stared, dumbfounded. Neither of them had expected Leo to defend my mother. Serena grabbed his shoulder, unwilling to give up. “Then why was she yelling at you just now?” I immediately cut in. “Mom thinks Leo is too thin, so she wanted him to eat more meat.” “She cooked this whole table of food herself.” Leo’s eyes flickered at my words. Robert’s face softened, overtaken by guilt. “Vivian, I’m sorry. I misjudged you.” Vivian, finally catching up, burst into tears and threw herself into Robert’s arms, sobbing. Serena tried to interject again. I proactively grabbed Robert’s and Leo’s hands. “Dad, it’s rare for you to be home for dinner. Let’s all eat together! I’ll peel shrimp for you and Leo!” I turned to Serena. “Aunt Serena, we don’t have a seat for you at the family table. Maybe you should eat at home tonight.” Serena gritted her teeth but was left with no choice but to retreat in humiliation. For the first time, our family of four sat down for a happy, peaceful dinner. After that day, Vivian kept up the act, determined to make Leo miserable by feeding him like a pig. Unexpectedly, Leo stopped complaining. His perpetually cold expression even started to soften. Sometimes, he’d pretend to casually drop a bag of chips or a candy bar for me after school. I breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like things were turning around. But Vivian wasn’t satisfied. “That brat has too much patience! I need a new way to make him truly suffer!” Fortunately, I had learned how to easily manipulate her. “Leo’s personality means he must hate being forced to study, Mom.” “If you start forcing him to read and do homework every day, he’ll be so furious he’ll run away from home for good!” Vivian’s eyes lit up. “If he runs away and never comes back, it’s his fault! He chose to abandon the inheritance! I can’t be blamed!” She rubbed her hands together and that very day returned with three boxes of test prep books. Leo was locked in the study right after dinner and wasn’t allowed out until after midnight. As predicted, on the first night, Leo stormed out, slamming the door. Serena’s secret maid, who was clearly spying, pressed her ear to the door. This routine went on for a while. Then, one evening, Serena dragged Robert back to the house. “Vivian verbally abuses Leo every day! I’ve heard her calling him an idiot, a deadbeat, a lazy fool—all the most degrading things!” “We hear crying from the study, and sometimes the sound of a belt hitting something! Vivian is definitely abusing him in secret!” The spy maid immediately backed her up, swearing she’d seen Leo run out crying, saying my mother was a monster who tortured him. Robert was livid. He kicked the study door open. But the scene inside stunned everyone. 4 My mother was sitting on the floor, head in her hands, sobbing. “I’m such an idiot! I don’t understand this simple English grammar! Even Stella is laughing at how stupid I am!” “I don’t care, you have to teach this idiot—me!—or my own daughter will look down on me.” Leo was fighting a smile, currently trying to bargain with her. “I’ll teach you, but you have to let me skip two of those practice tests today.” Vivian argued back. “No way! Your teacher said if you just do two more tests, you might get the number one spot in your grade!” “If you can’t get first place, you’re embarrassing your father!” As she finished, I hit her lightly with a toy belt. “Bad Mommy! Leo is already Third in his grade! That’s super good! Mommy can’t call him names!” Vivian shrieked dramatically. “Stella! You are asking for it!” Leo pulled me behind him, and the three of us dissolved into a tangled pile of play-fighting. Serena’s jaw went slack. Robert just stared. “What in the world are you doing?” Serena demanded. I took a moment to explain. “Mom wants Leo to be number one in his class, so she and I are supervising his study.” “But Mom is super dumb and can’t even do one problem, so she has to beg Leo to teach her! Shame on her!” Serena looked defeated. She grabbed Leo and frantically lifted his shirt, checking for any marks. Satisfied he wasn’t physically harmed, she glared at him. “Is this woman emotionally manipulating you? If she’s bullying you, you have to tell us!” She looked at Leo, desperate for him to turn the tide. Leo simply smiled. “Vivian isn’t bullying me. She even went to my parent-teacher conference for Dad.” “No one has ever cared about my schoolwork like this. I actually think it’s pretty good.” Leo’s words wiped the anger from Robert’s face. He embraced my mother. “Thank you, Vivian. You’ve done something I never managed to do.” The tension evaporated, replaced by unexpected warmth. Vivian grinned foolishly, giving me a secret thumbs-up, thanking me silently. The truth was, the more time Vivian spent playing this role, the more she actually softened toward Leo. And Leo, getting the family attention he’d missed for years, had genuinely bonded with us. I watched Serena storm off, and my anxiety finally eased. This life, I thought, we wouldn’t be thrown into the ocean. I could finally relax and be a rich kid. But the peace didn’t last two days… I came home from kindergarten to see two fire trucks parked outside the mansion. The familiar, terrifying sight made my heart seize up. It was the fire. Again. Shaking uncontrollably, I begged the chauffeur to rush me to the hospital. Inside the hospital room, Robert was predictably screaming at my mother. “How could you hate him so much? If anything happens to Leo, I swear, you will pay with your life!” Serena stood nearby, the familiar venomous look in her eyes. “Why did the security cameras break down today? You planned this! You wanted to burn Leo alive and steal the fortune!” My mother was sobbing, devastated. “I don’t know how it started! I’m the one who called 911! I swear, it wasn’t me…” Serena slapped her across the face. “You’ve been abusing him for months! The laxative incident proves you’re a monster! I haven’t forgotten your evil deeds!” I watched my mother crumple, unable to defend herself. My heart clenched. Then, Serena suddenly shrieked. “Leo’s awake!” She rushed to his bedside, whispered something into his ear, and then urged him loudly, “Tell us! Was it Vivian who set the fire?” Robert encouraged him. “Don’t be afraid to tell the truth, son. I’m here. No one will hurt you.” He shot a furious look at Vivian, who instantly paled. I saw Leo hesitating, the same gloomy, conflicted look he had in my past life. Sweat beaded on my palms. I prayed desperately. Please, not again. I can’t go back to the ocean. I can’t be fed to the sharks! The memory of our gruesome, agonizing death made my body stiffen, unable to breathe. In the agonizing silence, Leo slowly raised his finger and pointed directly at my mother.

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I was always a pushover growing up. I had a tendency to agree with everyone, reflexively. Someone could tell me the Earth was flat, and I’d nod and say, “You know, there’s a real possibility for that.” After a checkup years later, I learned I had what the doctor vaguely called a “Compulsive Agreement Disorder”—a psychological defense mechanism born out of constant bullying and never being heard. I learned to survive by simply affirming whatever the perceived aggressor said. When the prominent Whitlock family finally tracked me down and brought me home, the “fake daughter,” Savannah, immediately started the performance. She wiped away a perfectly placed tear and offered up my room. “I took your place, big sister. This room rightfully belongs to you. I’ll just move my things to the guest suite.” I nodded, agreeing instantly. “That’s certainly fair. Indeed, the guest room is for guests, and since you’re technically a visitor here now, that seems logical.” Savannah—Savvy—turned instantly pale, her composure visibly shaken. My newfound brother, Marcus, jabbed a furious finger at my chest. “I only recognize Savvy as my sister. You can forget about being family.” I didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely. I completely agree. Honestly, I’ve always preferred the simple life—I tell everyone I’m an only child anyway. Less drama.” Marcus turned beet red, his jaw slackening. He let out a strangled gasp and promptly collapsed. I just stood there, blinking slowly. I was just agreeing with what he said. How was that my fault? 1 Marcus was clutching his chest, completely knocked out. Savvy immediately started wailing, calling out his name. The loud, dramatic scene brought my biological parents, Caroline and Richard Whitlock, running. “What in the world is going on here? Why did Marcus faint?” they demanded. Savvy rubbed her eyes, shrinking her shoulders and choking out a sob. “It’s because… sister… she…” She trailed off, making it sound like I’d just physically assaulted my new brother. My parents’ disapproving gazes landed squarely on me. I nodded my head, following the pattern. “Indeed. Marcus said he only recognized Savvy as his sister. So, I responded that I tell everyone I’m an only child. Then he fainted.” It was true. At my foster home, I was an only child. Savvy continued to cry silently, shrinking into herself and clutching Marcus. After Mom gave her a small, reassuring pat, she looked up, shooting me a pathetic, fearful glance before tearfully addressing them. “She said… she was angry I took her family. She threatened me, and Marcus stepped in to defend me, and that’s how he fell.” Wait, she just straight-up fabricated a story? Mom looked at the two of them—the collapsed son and the terrified daughter—and turned her accusatory face back to me. “You’ve been back for one day, and you’re already bullying your brother and sister? What kind of daughter are you?” I nodded my head again, the reflex taking over. “That’s certainly possible. Since I just got here, I could very well have bullied Savvy and Marcus. But you have cameras, right? We can just check the footage.” I decided to go for the nuclear option. “And besides, I might not even be your daughter. DNA tests can have errors. To be safe, Savvy, Marcus, and I can all take another one. What if none of us are your biological children?” The last sentence was designed to short-circuit my mother and silence my father. It worked immediately. Mom gasped, looking frantic. The usually rigid and stern Dad snapped, “What are you talking about, running your mouth like that!” 2 Savvy, ever the schemer, latched onto the easier target. “The cameras in here… didn’t they break last month?” I was genuinely confused. “They did break. But I fixed them yesterday.” Growing up, my only defense against being beaten up was evidence. Because I compulsively agreed with everything, people often tried to take advantage or physically intimidate me. The one thing that stopped them was the proof on camera. So, when I got back to the Whitlocks’ mansion, the first thing I did was hire a crew to ensure every corner of the house was covered. When Mom and Dad realized my strange fixation was due to a childhood trauma from being constantly abused, they allowed me to install the system out of pity. Savvy, who was probably out shopping at the time, had no idea. I pulled up the feed on my phone and projected it onto the closest wall, turning the volume up. The scene played out: Savvy’s sickeningly sweet offer to give up the room, followed by Marcus’s aggressive taunts about me being some kind of “hillbilly” from the sticks. I zoomed in and emphasized Savvy’s smug, subtle expressions and Marcus’s look of utter contempt. Mom and Dad squirmed, their faces heating up. Mom cleared her throat. “Marcus and Savvy were wrong in how they spoke to you, Maddie. I’ll talk to them.” She paused. “But you, too, honey. If you knew they were lying, why didn’t you just explain things to us?” I looked at them, completely flat. I swiped the video progress bar back, and my earlier explanation—my calm, reflexive affirmation that led to the truth—rang out clearly. Mom’s cheeks flushed crimson. They both stood there, wordless. I knew exactly what this meant: they were going to sweep it under the rug. I dangled my phone with the lab appointment confirmation pulled up. “I’ve already scheduled the follow-up DNA tests. Should we still go?” Mom forced a weak smile. “That… won’t be necessary.” I tilted my head, looking genuinely puzzled. “Oh, but we should. What if Marcus was the one who was switched? We’re supposed to be fraternal twins, right? Two babies switched at once isn’t impossible.” I gestured between us. “Look, Mom, Savvy and I look incredibly similar, but Marcus and I don’t look alike at all. Isn’t that weird?” It was weird. A supposed twin brother and I shared zero resemblance, while the supposed “fake” sister could have been my doppelgänger. It raised too many questions. Mom seemed to instinctively agree with me, but Dad immediately cut me off, his voice laced with agitation. “Enough! Are you done with this drama? I told you, I’m making Marcus and Savvy apologize, all right?” He snapped. “They made a mistake, but you don’t need to be so aggressive! Look at you! What kind of attitude is that?” He turned to Savvy. “Savvy, apologize to your sister!” 3 Savvy had been yelled at by her father—the man who raised her—for the first time. Her eyes instantly welled up. She shot me a hateful, red-rimmed glare. “I’m sorry! There!” With that, she burst into tears and ran off. In her haste, she didn’t watch her step and accidentally stomped right on Marcus’s chest. I saw it clearly: Marcus’s face twisted in pain, a brief moment of pure agony, before it smoothed out again. He was faking the unconsciousness. Mom quickly ran after Savvy, calling out to her. Dad called the staff to carry Marcus back to his room and then walked off without so much as a glance in my direction. The DNA test was forgotten. I hummed a quiet tune to myself and walked toward Savvy’s room. The door was ajar, and I could hear Mom’s comforting voice. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. You’ll always be my daughter, no matter what.” Savvy’s voice was hoarse. “What about my sister, though?” Mom paused, then answered honestly. “Maddie is my daughter, too. You both have to learn to get along. Look, you wrongly accused her today, and she let it go. Your brother exaggerated things. I don’t think she has the bad temper he claims.” Clearly, that wasn’t what Savvy wanted to hear. She burst into louder sobs. 4 I tapped gently on the door. “Can I come in?” Savvy’s crying cut off abruptly, like a toy robot running out of batteries. She didn’t answer. I opened the door and walked in anyway. Savvy, whose eyes were now red and puffy, glared at me. “What do you want?” “To rest. You gave me your room, remember? This is my room now.” Savvy was furious. She hadn’t expected me to call her bluff and take her performative offer seriously. Mom quickly tried to smooth things over. “Oh, Maddie, darling, Savvy was just speaking emotionally. She’s been in this room for so long, it wouldn’t be right to make her move now.” She looked at me hesitantly. “How about you check out one of the other rooms?” I surveyed Savvy’s space. The large vanity wasn’t for makeup; it was crowded with limited-edition collectible art toys and little cotton dolls littered across the bed—the kind of niche fan merchandise often called “merch” by collectors. It was clearly a personalized sanctuary. I gave Mom a slow nod and patted her on the shoulder. “That’s absolutely true. It’s not right to make my sister move after she’s made this room her own.” I paused. “In that case, I’ll take Marcus’s room.” Mom froze. She stammered. “Marcus’s room wouldn’t work either… he’s a boy… why don’t you just take the guest room?” I nodded again. “Indeed, Marcus’s room is unsuitable—all his messy boy things. But the bed in the guest room is too hard; I won’t sleep well.” I offered a suggestion. “How about this: I’ll just crash in here with Savvy for one night? We can get a new mattress for the guest room tomorrow, and then I’ll move out.” The idea of sharing a room with me horrified Savvy. “No!” she shrieked. But Mom thought it was a brilliant idea—a forced sisterly bonding session. She immediately approved. Savvy’s protests were useless. Furious, she grabbed a pillow and stomped off to the guest room. As they left, I discreetly took the strand of hair I’d pulled from Mom’s back during the hug and tucked it away. I surveyed Savvy’s room and, for good measure, installed a tiny, almost invisible security camera in a lamp. I rifled through her vanity and found her hairbrush, plucking a few strands of her hair. If what I suspected was true, the family drama was about to get a whole lot more entertaining. 5 The next morning, before the sun was even fully up, a furious banging rattled my door. Fighting a massive wave of sleep-deprived irritation, I yanked the door open, my face dark. “What is with all the goddamn knocking? Are you trying to wake the dead?” Marcus, who had arrived with Savvy, ready for a fight, recoiled in surprise. A moment later, his face contorted in rage. He raised his hand to deliver a furious slap. “How dare you, you little tramp! You took Savvy’s room!” I grabbed his wrist mid-swing. Years of self-defense classes—Krav Maga and kickboxing—meant I wasn’t going to be taken down by a pampered rich kid. It would have been pathetic. I was already awake and annoyed. I used his forward momentum, twisted his arm, and slapped him across the face with my free hand. “Keep your hands off me, you noisy jerk. If you didn’t want me to take the room, you shouldn’t have said I wasn’t family. You let me in, so now shut up.” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. “I’m in a foul mood. Annoy me again and I’ll beat you until your own mother doesn’t recognize you. Get lost!” Savvy gasped in alarm. “Madison! Are you insane? How dare you hit Marcus? He has a heart condition!” Marcus was the family’s golden boy. His delicate health meant Savvy, as the younger sister, had always been instructed to be gentle with him. I raised an eyebrow, looking at the clear handprint swelling on Marcus’s cheek. “Oh? Are you my actual brother?” His expression faltered instantly, a flash of panic crossing his eyes before he rallied into an aggressive sneer. “Of course I’m your brother! You can’t change that fact, no matter what you say!” I scoffed, my voice laced with mockery. “Really? You only recognize Savvy as your sister, remember? What kind of brother does that make you to me?” Marcus visibly relaxed. I was done arguing. I slammed the door in their faces, leaving only a final threat hanging in the air. “Make another noise, and I’ll cut out your tongues!” 6 When I finally woke up, the house was eerily silent. I was fully expecting the parents to come down on me for hitting Marcus, but no one did. The maid informed me that the family—all four of them—had gone out to shop for Marcus and Savvy’s joint birthday party in two days. They went off as a happy family of four, forgetting about me entirely. The maid looked at me with deep sympathy. Clearly, in her eyes, I was the pathetic, neglected one, abandoned while they rallied around the fake sister. But I didn’t care. It was perfect. I had things to do, and their absence was a gift. I took the strands of hair I had collected and drove to the private DNA testing center. I submitted the samples and waited in the lobby. My phone chimed with text notifications. It was Savvy. Savvy: Hmph. Mom and Dad love me the most. Look at the gift they got me. Savvy: Even without blood, I’m still the favorite kid. I genuinely worried about Savvy’s intelligence. Sending a threat from her personal number was wildly clumsy. She followed up with a picture of a designer bag—a high-end, limited-edition piece. Savvy: If you promise to stop trying to steal my parents, I’ll buy you this bag as a gift. I glanced at the bag. It was easily a seventy-five thousand dollar piece. Savvy’s monthly allowance, while generous, wouldn’t cover that without a few months of saving. I didn’t reply. I took a screenshot of the entire exchange and sent it directly to Mom and Dad. Dad didn’t say a word. He just deposited $100,000 into my account. Mom responded quickly. Mom (Caroline): Maddie, please don’t be upset. Savvy is just like that—she has a sharp tongue but a good heart. Mom (Caroline): Marcus told us you were asleep and needed rest after this morning, so we didn’t wake you up. I apologize. I bought you a gift, and I promise next time I will ask for your input. Mom also transferred $100,000. Two hundred thousand dollars for one screenshot. Worth it. I looked down at the freshly printed lab report in my hands. I realized I needed to give the family a much bigger surprise. 7 The moment I stepped back into the house, I was assaulted by Savvy’s ear-splitting wail. A handbag flew past my head. I ducked just in time. Savvy screamed at me, her voice hoarse. “Madison Whitlock! If you don’t like me, just say so!” “Why did you ruin my collectibles? That was a limited-edition error piece! And I was actually going to buy you that bag!” She was sobbing hysterically—a more genuine show of emotion than when Marcus had fainted. Marcus, meanwhile, was adding fuel to the fire. “Mom, Dad, I told you she was rotten. She’s learned bad habits. She’s just jealous that we didn’t take her shopping, so she took it out on Savvy’s favorite toys. She never should have come back!” Mom looked at me with disappointment etched on her face. “Maddie, I told you, if you wanted something, you could just ask me. Why would you ruin the one thing your sister loves the most?” Dad didn’t bother to scold me. He simply handed me a credit card. “Madison, you’ve caused nothing but chaos since you arrived. For the sake of family harmony, I need you to move out. Live in an apartment downtown.” They were already trying to kick me out? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcus trying desperately to suppress a triumphant smirk. Smile, smile, smile, I thought. Let’s see if you can still manage that in a minute. 8 I took a deep breath, gathered all my air, and shouted. “Quiet! Hear me out!” Savvy’s wail cut off instantly, punctuated by a hiccup. The entire room went silent. I took a slow breath and continued. “That’s true, there’s a possibility I could have damaged Savvy’s things. However, I didn’t.” Marcus couldn’t contain himself. He sneered. “Oh yeah? And we’re supposed to believe you? Who else in this house has a motive to ruin Savvy’s things?” I smiled sweetly at him. “Well, my brother, for one.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Oh, wait. My mistake. You’re not my brother, are you?” Marcus’s complexion turned white as paper. “What are you talking about?” I pulled out the documents—a stack of photocopied DNA reports—and passed them out to everyone. “Here you go, family. Hot off the press today. Take a look.” When Marcus saw the title of the document, his face drained of all color. He closed his eyes and started to crumple to the floor in another dramatic faint. I darted forward, catching him not to save him, but to grip the sensitive skin on his side and pinch hard. He gasped, his eyes flying open in genuine pain, and he was forced to stand up straight.

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The night of our wedding, my husband—all sinew and raw, hardworking muscle—left for the City to find work, and I didn’t hear a peep from him again. I was left in that tiny, forgotten town, running on fumes, rising before the sun and crashing after the owls. In one short year, the drudgery had hollowed me out, turning me from a woman of substance, a curvy girl with a lucky star, into a gaunt, exhausted shadow. Just when I felt I couldn’t lift another bucket, my birth parents tracked me down. They said I was the daughter who had been swapped at birth and they wanted to bring me to the City to live a life of comfort. But I hadn’t even finished the drive in their sleek black sedan when a crew of men stopped us and dragged me out. They threatened my parents: Pay the ransom, or they’d end me! I was shaking, absolutely terrified. But when the blindfold was ripped off, I looked up at the gang leader and froze. It was my runaway husband. 1 “Honey!” The name burst out of me, and every eye in the room snapped to focus on me and Rhys Owen. Rhys’s face instantly flushed crimson. I couldn’t make out his expression through the shadows, but I was too excited to care. I pumped up the volume and yelled it again. “Honey!” The rugged men stared at me, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, for a long moment, then erupted in laughter. “Boss, did we scare this one senseless?” “She just yells ‘Honey’ at anyone? Hey, sweetheart, how about me?” “You? Don’t you see the size of the Boss? Look at his build compared to yours!” “The Boss has all the luck—getting a rich heiress to throw herself at him even while he’s on the job!” Rhys glared fiercely at his crew. When he looked at me, his brow furrowed. “Stop yelling. Who are you calling your husband?” I was stunned. He didn’t recognize me! He’d abandoned me on our wedding night to seek fortune, promising to return and give me the good life, but he hadn’t even called once. If my birth parents hadn’t found me, I’d still be in that village, stuck playing Penelope. The thought of it all brought my fury to a boil. “You rotten, heartless man! You walked out and left me to fend for myself, and now the first thing you do is kidnap me? Do you have no soul?” “Do you know how I’ve been living? Starving, freezing—I nearly died of cold in that village last winter!” I wallowed in the drama of my past misery, screaming the accusations until tears streamed down my face. The men exchanged bewildered, uncertain looks. “No way. Is that really the Boss’s wife?” “Damn, Boss just hit the jackpot—a wife and a ransom!” “You can’t forget your crew when you hit it big, Boss!” A skinny guy, Mac, sidled up to Rhys with a leering grin. “Boss, we were supposed to kidnap her, but I think she’s here to kidnap you!” Rhys finally snapped out of his daze and shoved Mac away in disgust. “All of you—shut your mouths!” He then strode over, intentionally roughing up his voice, and grabbed my chin. “You open your eyes and look at me. Who is your husband? I’m known as ‘The Rattler’ on the street, and I stand by my name!” “And besides, I have a wife! She’s a curvy girl, a woman of substance! You may sound like her, but those stick arms and legs? Do you think I’m blind?” “Don’t try to play games with me, sweetheart, or I’ll cut out your tongue!” After his menacing threat, he turned away and mumbled under his breath. “Dressed so nice, trying to pretend to be my wife? What an actress! Good thing I don’t fall for that.” I was already livid that he wouldn’t admit to knowing me. Hearing that, I instinctively glanced down at myself. My hourglass figure was now a slender, toned shape; my full curves had melted into a streamlined silhouette. I’d lost over seventy pounds. No wonder he didn’t recognize me. For the first time in my life, I wanted to cry over being thin. “I really am your h—” Before I could finish, he sealed my mouth shut with duct tape. “I’m warning you, we’ve been living on a knife’s edge for years—we’re stone-cold killers. Your little beauty tricks won’t work on me!” “Cooperate and wait for the ransom, or I won’t go easy on you!” With that, he tapped the blade of a knife against my cheek. His action completely shocked me. I froze, unable to move a muscle. Once he was out of earshot, I sniffled. The more I thought about it, the more miserable I felt, so I just started yelling obscenities. “Rhys Owen, you low-down, no-good jerk!” But with the tape over my mouth, no one understood what I was saying. After a long while, I calmed down and looked around the room. The men were all bulky and rough, covered in fake tattoos and scars—they looked like the usual ne’er-do-wells you’d see hanging around town. Watching Rhys lecture his crew in the distance, I sank into thought. He was supposed to be in the City doing construction, so why was he here with them? And why was he kidnapping me? My heart ached as I watched the man I’d missed for years. Honey, you’re just getting yourself into trouble… 2 A phone ring broke my reverie. Rhys glanced at me and lowered his voice. “Ms. Harrington, the job is done.” Ms. Harrington? Skye Harrington? Wasn’t that the sister I’d been swapped with? Did she hire Rhys to kidnap me? I immediately perked up my ears. “Don’t worry, we didn’t hurt her, just gave her a good scare.” “We’ll make sure she backs off and doesn’t interfere with your life.” Those two simple sentences were all I needed to figure out their entire game. So, they just didn’t want me to come home, huh? I rolled my eyes. Since my life wasn’t actually in danger, I had nothing to fear or worry about. My priority now was to give my clueless, wife-blind husband a good lesson. Once he hung up, I kicked the skinny guy next to me, Mac, signaling him to rip the tape off my mouth. Mac, clearly eager for more entertainment, actually did it. He must have wanted to see what I’d do to Rhys next. The moment my mouth was free, I deliberately cleared my throat. “Honey~” The syrupy-sweet sound instantly made the surrounding men turn red trying to stifle their laughter. Rhys’s broad shoulders tensed. He turned back, his expression tight. “I told you not to call me that!” I pouted with a wicked glee. “Why are you so mean? I’m thirsty.” “Even a kidnapper can’t let the hostage die of thirst, can they?” I put on my best hurt expression. Rhys took a deep breath and tossed a bottle of water, which landed right beside me. Thinking about how he’d abandoned me for so long, I fluttered my eyelashes. “Oh dear, I’m all tied up, I can’t get it. Honey, come help me.” He walked over like a man resigned to his fate and held the water bottle to my lips. My eyes lit up. I gulped hard, staring at his wide shoulders and that impressive eight-pack. He sensed my stare, and his face instantly went wary as he tried to shield his chest. “Are you drinking or not?” I quickly pulled my gaze back. “Drinking, drinking, of course, I’m drinking.” I guzzled half the bottle and let out a satisfied burp. Seeing him about to stand up, I quickly adjusted my tone. “Sweetheart~” My overly dramatic voice nearly made his knees buckle. “For heaven’s sake, what do you want now!” “A person needs food to live, Honey. You’ve had me tied up for ages, aren’t you going to feed me?” He covered his ears with a look of pure disgust and retreated ten feet. “Just wait!” The crew of ‘thugs’ couldn’t hold back anymore and doubled over with laughter. “Boss, I don’t think the missus wants food, she wants you!” “Why don’t you just take one for the team, Boss, and take her in!” Rhys angrily slammed the remaining half-bottle of water onto the ground, scattering water everywhere. “All of you, shut up!” “I’m telling you one more time—I’m a married man! If anyone says something like that again, I’ll take it personally!” Seeing his genuine anger, the crew immediately straightened up. My lips curved up, and I nodded, pleased. My husband might be a little dense, but he certainly had high standards for fidelity. Rhys must have felt my gaze, because he spun around, his eyes narrowed menacingly. “Take her into the back room! I’m going out to get food!” The men immediately ushered me into the inner room. I wrinkled my nose. “You want me to sleep in this?” Mac raised an eyebrow, a suggestive smile on his face. “This is the Boss’s room! A private room! And only one bed!” “Oh.” I gave him a knowing look and smiled back. “Don’t worry, buddy. When this is all over, the missus won’t forget your help!” I sat down quietly. After what felt like ages, just as I was about to fall asleep, Rhys finally returned. “Here, eat this!” Looking at the bag of bagels and hard-boiled eggs, I felt a momentary softening of my heart. “Feed me.” His face darkened, and he was about to blow up, but I held up my hands, which were still tied together. “I’m tied up like this, and you expect me to peel an egg myself?” He was stumped. He reluctantly sat down beside me. After carefully peeling the shell off one egg, he held it to my mouth. I leaned back slightly. “I don’t eat the yolks.” He let out a defeated sigh, but his body moved automatically. The two halves of egg white were soon offered to my lips. “Happy now?” His sun-kissed skin looked even darker against the pure white egg white. He was a muscle man, but his fingers were surprisingly long and defined. I unconsciously swallowed. When I opened my mouth, I accidentally brushed his finger, and my heart started beating like a trapped bird. Rhys was busy chewing on the yolk and didn’t notice the change in me. “I’m a kidnapper, and you’re giving me your food preferences? You must have a death wish.” I gave him an innocent look and defended myself. “My husband taught me that. He gets whatever I don’t like.” Rhys paused mid-swallow. His wife didn’t like egg yolks, either! Could this woman really be his big, curvy wife? But the next second, he shook his head, pushing away the absurd thought. His wife was cute and plump; she couldn’t possibly be this bone-thin heiress. Absolutely not! 3 After it got dark, Rhys made the bed and turned to lay a blanket out on the floor. “You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll keep watch.” My heart warmed a little. I curled up on the bed and hummed softly. “You’re so good to me, Honey.” He shot me a glare but said nothing. I decided to push my luck. “Then help me untie the ropes, too. My wrists hurt~” His guard immediately went up, and his eyebrows tightened. “No way! What if I untie you and you run away in the middle of the night? Don’t even try to beg; my answer is final!” His stubbornness annoyed me. I scooted toward the edge of the bed to make room and shot him a seductive look. “Then you can just hold me in your arms all night, and I won’t be able to run, right?” He closed his eyes in exasperation, pretending to neither hear nor see me. I wasn’t going to let him off that easy! Since he wouldn’t speak, I extended my foot and brushed my toes against his thigh. Rhys shot up with a gasp, his head smacking the low ceiling beam with a dull thud. He let out a muffled groan of pain. I sat up in feigned concern, only to realize his ears were bright red. Grinning, I lay back down, striking a pose, and pouted my lips. “Sweetheart, if you don’t untie me, I don’t know what I might do next, you know~” He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, his neck stiff with stubborn resistance. “I don’t believe you can cause that much trouble!” I scoffed. “I won’t cause that much trouble, but I can definitely make sure you don’t get a wink of sleep.” I was a little nervous, this being my first time acting so flirtatious, but he didn’t reply for the longest time. That made me even angrier. Hello! I’m a beautiful woman now! I spun my head away in frustration, only to see him gripping his fists tightly, muttering under his breath through gritted teeth. “Do not harm the asset, do not harm the asset…” I had to clench my stomach to keep from laughing. Rhys suddenly deflated. “Fine, untie them. Just please, stop torturing me.” He turned to me with a look of utter defeat. “Promise me, if I untie you, you’ll behave and stop driving me crazy!” I nodded obediently. “Whatever you say, Honey.” He shuddered with disgust and grudgingly started working on the ropes. He didn’t see the sly look in my eyes. The moment I was free, I pounced on him, wrapping myself around him like an octopus. “Ah, I’ve been tied up all day, time to stretch my body.” He froze, his eyes wide with panic. “You… you broke your promise!” I found it hilarious. My finger traced his V-line, gliding up to his abdominal muscles. I let out a satisfied sigh. “Honey, your body is absolutely dynamite!” He looked genuinely terrified, on the verge of tears. He carefully pushed my hand away and struggled. “Get off me! Or I’ll really lose my temper!” “I don’t care if you’re a hostage or not, I swear I’ll throw you out!” “What if my wife finds out about this? I’m an honest man!” I refused to let go, clinging to his broad back. I straightened up slightly. I bit his ear, grinding my teeth a little. “Rhys Owen, do you really not recognize me?” If he dared to say no, I was going to bite his ear right off! Rhys froze as if struck by lightning. He turned his head slowly to look at me, his eyes wide. “You’re…”

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I saw a wedding photo pop up on my old college roommate’s Instagram feed and tapped the heart icon without thinking. The next second, a frantic voice note came through. “Who is this? Why are you using this account? If you don’t answer, I’m calling the police!” I was confused, so I called her back on video. The call connected. As soon as she saw my face, she shrieked and immediately disconnected. When I tried again, a text message appeared on my screen. “Didn’t you… die last year?” 1 That question hit me like a splash of cold water. I called her yet again. It took my roommate, Gigi, a long time to pick up. She made me do a series of ridiculous facial contortions and dramatic eyebrow raises—all high-difficulty stunts—until my face muscles were practically spasming. Only then did she say, her voice shaking with disbelief, “Anya Reed, is that really you? You’re alive?” Gigi told me she had actually cried when she heard I was gone, posting a ton of dramatic, sentimental messages. I scrolled through my old texts with her. Sure enough, about a year ago, she had sent a few messages. But at that exact time, I had just given birth to my daughter, Lila, and was in no state to check social media. For the next year, I was a stay-at-home mom, completely consumed by Lila’s needs—feeding, changing, rocking her to sleep, making baby food. I barely had time to shower, let alone socialize. The messages just got buried. But to hear that people thought I had died? That was insane. This wasn’t some casual prank. I demanded an apology. Gigi insisted she was the victim, claiming she’d only heard the rumor from someone else. She found and sent me the screenshot she’d seen. The image was chilling. It didn’t just casually state my time and cause of death—it was a highly stylized, black-and-white headshot, complete with a professional-looking obituary detailing my supposed suicide via postpartum depression. It explained everything. No wonder no friends had reached out, no party invitations had arrived. They all thought I was dead. My blood boiled. I grabbed the screenshot and drafted a mass text to my friends, ready to announce my resurrection to the world. But as soon as I hit send, I froze. Except for Gigi, every single person was met with the same message: You are no longer friends with this user. I couldn’t chat with any of them. Several old college group chats I’d muted because they were annoying now showed the notification that I had been removed. I immediately messaged Gigi, demanding to know who was behind the lie. A moment later, a voice note came back: “Anya, I heard it from Sienna Voss. Do you remember her?” Sienna Voss? She was also a college classmate, same department, different major. I remembered her because she and my husband, Owen Miller, had been close in college—she was his “girl buddy,” his platonic wingman. After Owen and I started dating, she faded out. We lost touch after graduation and I hadn’t heard anything about her since. “Why would she say I died?” I pressed. Gigi sent a string of ellipses, then: “I don’t know the details. Around this time last year, Sienna posted that screenshot—the one you just saw—and said you had passed away from postpartum depression. Loads of people commented, offering her comfort, saying how loyal she was, and they even held an online memorial for you.” My hand tightened on my phone. It started to shake. “Send me that post. I need to see it.” Gigi replied, “She deleted it a long time ago. Said it was too painful to look at. Anya, you honestly didn’t know about any of this?” Know what? My entire life for the past year had been Lila. I was too exhausted from the endless cycle of feeding, changing, and soothing to even watch TV, much less check whose drama was trending on Instagram. Besides, I hadn’t even followed Sienna Voss. I had Gigi send me Sienna’s contact information and immediately sent a follow request. I waited half an hour. Nothing. I tried again. This time, I was instantly blocked. The fire inside me was turning into an inferno. I called Gigi. “She won’t add me. Send me Sienna’s phone number.” Gigi’s voice was hesitant. “Anya, I think something is seriously off here. You need to calm down.” “I’ve been dead for a year. Tell me how to calm down.” A moment of silence, and then the numbers arrived. I typed the number in. My finger hovered over the dial button. Then, I stopped. Something was fundamentally wrong. Why would Sienna Voss spread a rumor that I was dead? She and Owen had been close. Did Owen know about this? I stared at the numbers for a long time, but never pressed the button. Exiting the dialer, I scrolled to another name in my contacts: Attorney Dana Cruz. Dana was the legal counsel at my previous company. She was the only person I knew who could help and also understood the law. I took a deep breath and called her. “Dana, hi. It’s Anya Reed.” A warm laugh came through the line. “Anya! Long time no talk! What a surprise.” I forced my voice to remain steady, explained the situation simply, and asked her what I should do next. Dana paused for a few seconds, her tone turning serious. “First, you need to post a clear, unequivocal statement on all your socials. Announce you are very much alive. That’s step one: clearing the record.” “Second, you have to figure out who is spreading this and why.” Dana paused. “But Anya, I need to manage your expectations. The standard for defamation lawsuits is high, especially if there hasn’t been significant material damage. If we just prove she lied, the best-case scenario is a public apology and some compensation for emotional distress.” My heart sank. “So what? I just let her tell everyone I’m dead?” “Absolutely not. You gather evidence. Screenshots, chat logs, everything. Then, you confirm who the real puppet master is.” After hanging up, my palms were sweating. I’d been running on pure adrenaline, but talking to Dana cleared my head. The advice was sound. But Sienna was an old college friend, and she had been close to my husband. If this was a misunderstanding, I didn’t want to burn bridges unnecessarily. After wrestling with it for a while, I decided to call Owen first. As soon as he picked up, he asked, “What is it, Anya? Is Lila giving you trouble again?” I told him the whole story, expecting him to be as outraged as I was. Instead, Owen sounded completely dismissive. “You’re taking some stupid prank seriously? Look, I’m busy here, working late. I need to hang up.” I immediately pushed back. “It’s not a prank. The screenshot is dated last June—right after I had Lila. The person who posted it is Sienna Voss. You remember her?” Owen hesitated. “Sienna? It has to be a mistake, or maybe someone hacked her account. Don’t overthink this. It’s nothing to worry about.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I was rumored to have died, and you think it’s ‘nothing to worry about’?” He sounded irritated. “That’s not what I mean. I mean, why give these ridiculous rumors the time of day? People will figure out it’s false eventually.” “I’m going to clarify right now. I’m posting an update that I’m alive.” Owen told me not to bother. “That kind of thing is bad luck, Anya. Just wait until tomorrow. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” He hung up before I could reply. Furious, I called him back, ready to argue, but he maintained his casual, bored tone, and then stopped answering my calls altogether. Fine. If he wouldn’t care, I wouldn’t care about keeping the peace. I quickly drafted a simple statement clarifying the rumor and hit post. Almost instantly, a notification flashed: [Your account has been logged in on another device. You have been forcibly disconnected.] I stared at the screen, stunned. My phone was in my hand. Who logged into my social media? My fingers trembled as I took a screenshot and sent it to my own text message thread. But that wasn’t the end of it. I noticed a hidden app disguised as a calculator. It’s a common privacy app. I tried the few passwords I knew, but none worked. The sound of the shower stopped. I quickly replaced his phone and sat back down next to Lila, my heart hammering against my ribs, my palms drenched with sweat. Owen walked out, towel-drying his hair, and glanced at me. “Your face is pale. Are you feeling sick?” “No. Just tired, maybe.” He grunted, picked up his phone, scrolled through it casually, and then went out onto the balcony for a cigarette. I watched his back, seeing a complete stranger for the first time. I didn’t sleep that night. Once Owen’s breathing grew deep and steady beside me, I picked up his phone again. I tried the hidden app password a few more times. On the very last try, a wild thought struck me: I typed in Sienna’s birthday. She’d bought a round of drinks for her birthday back in college; I vaguely remembered the date. The app opened. Inside was a private photo album. I clicked on it and instantly felt the icy shock of betrayal. The photos were all of them, together. Each one a punch to the gut. One photo was dated last year, around the time I gave birth to Lila. Sienna was sitting on a window seat, her stomach clearly rounded with pregnancy. Owen’s caption read: “Our little sweetheart, we’ve been waiting so long. Grow up healthy.” A year ago, I was at my most vulnerable, recovering from childbirth, needing him more than ever. He was busy transferring money to another woman, planning for another child’s future. I bit down hard on my lip to stop the cry that wanted to escape. Anya, you cannot panic. Dana’s words echoed in my ears: Gather the evidence. Shaking, I picked up Owen’s phone again and meticulously photographed every one of the transfer records, the intimate photos, and sent them all to a hidden, encrypted folder on my own device. It was then I stumbled upon a deeper secret. In Owen’s cloud backup, I found a detailed medical report. My eyes jumped immediately to the final conclusion: [Mass occupying lesion of the liver, size approximately 3.5 x 4.2 cm. Primary Hepatocellular Carcinoma possible. Further core needle biopsy recommended.] Owen had liver cancer. And judging by the dates, he had known about it for at least three months. For the past three months, he had gone to work, come home, and never said a single word. A cold dread shot up from my feet to the top of my head. He wasn’t just cheating. He was systematically transferring our marital assets to provide for his child with Sienna. And my staged “death” was simply to clear the way for their future.

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It took five years by the side of Rhys, the undisputed heiress of the Redwood Lakes fortune, before she finally agreed to give me a title. But on the day of the reception, she was nowhere to be found, leaving me alone to face the room full of mortified guests. The officiant did a painful jig around the subject, and a few of her closest socialite friends burst into laughter. “Welcome to the big leagues, brother-in-law,” one of them chirped. “Consider this your first lesson in being a trophy husband.” They miscalculated. I took the money Rhys had funneled to me over the years and quietly vanished from the City. The truth was, I knew from the start that I was nobody to Rhys. The first night she brought me home, five years ago, I feigned drunkenness. I listened from the hallway as she screamed into the phone. “Evelyn, you are ice! You think you can just walk away? What was I to you? Do you really think I can’t live without you?” “I begged you. I threatened to hurt myself. I drank myself into the ER with a bleeding ulcer, and you didn’t even look back? Fine. We’ll see who breaks first. I’ve already found someone a hundred times more biddable. I’d like to see how long you can last.” By the end, her voice was a choked sob. So, no. From the very beginning, there was no truth between us. 1 Three hours past the calculated auspicious time, Rhys still hadn’t appeared. Ignoring the sympathetic and, more often, mocking glances around me, I calmly removed the white boutonniere from the lapel of my tuxedo. Harper, Rhys’s older sister, leaned against the doorframe, a sneer playing on her lips. “Eager to run, are we? Rhys is only a little late. You have to have more patience than that if you want to be the future man of the house.” I didn’t look up, continuing to unfasten the accompanying accessories in the mirror’s reflection. Her cousin, Finn—who had always treated me like a particularly pungent piece of floor lint—sidled closer, his voice sickeningly gentle. “Don’t take it personally, Sloan. Rhys is usually so punctual. This… maybe Evelyn suddenly got sick, and she needed to care for him?” He drew out the name Evelyn slowly and deliberately, the pleasure in his handsome eyes poorly concealed. I looked at his expression in the mirror and smiled. “Take it personally?” I repeated, placing the final platinum cufflink gently into its box. “Why would I take it personally?” The air in the private dressing suite instantly thickened. I turned around, my gaze sweeping over their various shocked expressions. “You all thought I was waiting for her for three hours, didn’t you?” Harper’s face darkened. “Sloan, what is that supposed to mean?” I stood up and slowly began to unbutton the tuxedo jacket. “This suit is expensive,” I said, my voice flat, as if discussing the weather. “It’s a shame not to get a picture in it.” “Sloan, don’t be an ingrate!” someone snapped. “Rhys is giving you a life! You’re not going to pull a runaway groom stunt now! I promise you, you walk out that door, and you won’t have a corner to stand on in the City tomorrow!” The jacket fell away, revealing the simple shirt and jeans I’d changed into underneath. I reached into a pocket of the discarded garment, retrieved the old phone I’d used for years, and looked up at every pair of eyes fixed on me. I gave a faint, cold smile. “I never belonged here anyway.” “So, there’s nothing for me to lose.” I didn’t wait for their stammering responses. I walked out without looking back. Rhys was the sole heir to one of the City’s oldest fortunes, and the people around her were naturally the children of wealth. They always looked down on me. Compared to them, my background was a marble dropped among pearls. Nobody understood why Rhys had chosen me, and even on the day I was meant to become her husband, their contempt never lessened. The person who disappeared was her, yet the shame and scorn still fell on me. I should have fought them, given back every ounce of stored-up humiliation from the past five years. But I was out of time. I had a flight to catch tonight, and I needed to pack. I wasn’t surprised by Rhys’s decision to ditch the wedding. Not at all. The night before, unable to sleep, I’d found myself scrolling through Evelyn’s livestream. It was 3 a.m., and he was still desperately hawking cosmetics to his viewers. Since leaving Rhys, his life hadn’t been easy. The viewer count was surprisingly high, though most weren’t there for the products. They were drawn by the barrage of gifts and the mysterious top donor. [Log off and rest.] [You can’t stay up, your stomach is weak. If you collapse again, I won’t come.] [Unblock my number. Send me your banking info. I’ll transfer the money.] [I’m getting married tomorrow. Don’t contact me again, and stop looking so pathetic.] With every cold, stark message, a new wave of shimmering, expensive digital gifts lit up the screen. Rhys was generous to everyone, even the ex she had once claimed to despise. Evelyn’s voice, as he described a serum, was trembling slightly. He dabbed the corner of his eye and murmured, so soft I almost didn’t hear it: “Rhys, don’t cheapen what we had with cash.” [We had something?] [Evelyn, I nearly bled out for you. I broke away from my family. I’m marrying a man I don’t love just to force myself to erase your memory. You were the one who walked away. You destroyed us.] I stared at the phrase, “a man I don’t love,” and allowed myself a rare moment of blankness. The comments section was chaos—Don’t marry! Get back together! Evelyn bit his lip, his eyes red and fixed on the camera. “Rhys. If I said I’d come back, that I’d do anything to make it up to you…” “Could you… please not get married?” 2 I didn’t see Rhys’s response, but her absence spoke volumes. Rhys couldn’t let go of Evelyn; that was never a secret. Two years ago, when my chronic back pain flared up, Rhys insisted on skipping the top specialists in the City. Instead, she dragged me a thousand miles away to a remote clinic Upstate. Predictably, we ran into Evelyn there. He looked just like the tattered photo in Rhys’s wallet: young, beautiful, and devastatingly unaware. Rhys held my waist, her face impassive as she watched him. But only I knew what happened in the second Evelyn appeared. Rhys’s fingers dug into my side, the pressure so intense I winced slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Evelyn stammered, stepping back. “I said I wouldn’t bother you again.” Rhys’s lips were a thin, tight line. I stood quietly, my eyes falling on the faint, intricate tattoo visible on Evelyn’s collarbone—a small dog. It was a perfect, heartbreaking match for the tiny cat tattoo on Rhys’s collarbone. “Move,” Rhys’s voice was as cold as marble. But as we waited for the elevator, her eyes kept flickering to the end of the hallway where he’d disappeared. “Hold onto this,” I said, looking at the black Amex card Evelyn was clutching. “Don’t lose it.” It was Rhys’s secondary card. She was a woman of clear boundaries—those who crossed her in business were never forgiven. Yet, that unlimited card was her final concession to him, a lifeline to keep him afloat, but out of sight. Despite her claiming he was the one person she never wanted to see again. On the drive back, a sudden rainstorm hit. Rhys was steering one-handed, clearly distracted. Her phone lit up—an unsaved number. She glanced at it, then slammed on the brakes. I lurched forward, my forehead cracking hard against the dashboard. Blood instantly rushed down my face. “Rhys…” The voice on the phone was a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called… but my mother is critical. The hospital says it’s urgent. I don’t know who else to call…” “I’m terrified…” Rhys looked at me, her eyes wide with a frantic panic I’d never seen before. “Sloan, I have an emergency. You need to get yourself home.” I rarely saw Rhys like this. Even when her company was on the brink of collapse, she hadn’t been this visibly unmoored. Unmoored enough to drop me off on the side of a highway late at night. Unmoored enough to speed into the storm without a backward glance. Unmoored enough to forget I was wearing only a thin sweater in twenty-degree Fahrenheit weather. She just left. I stood in the howling wind, shivering. The exit ramp was deserted. I couldn’t get a ride, and I stood there for nearly four hours until Rhys finally returned, her hazard lights blinking in the rain. She looked utterly exhausted. “Evelyn fainted,” she said. I lowered my gaze. “When I got to the hospital, I found out his mother was just in for routine observation. He panicked and exaggerated the details. I turned to leave, and he had a breakdown and collapsed. He’s fine now.” She reached out and gripped my hand, which was ice-red from the cold. “I’m sorry, Sloan. I shouldn’t have left you. He’s been unstable lately, and I was afraid he’d do something drastic.” I didn’t know what to say. “Are you truly over him?” I heard my own voice ask. If she truly was so incapable of letting him go, I wouldn’t be so foolish as to stay in the way. Rhys drove for a long time before finally answering. “There’s nothing to ‘get over,’ Sloan. I’m not an idiot; I don’t obsess over one mistake.” “It’s just… I pity him. He’s all alone.” Oh. So she wasn’t over him. After that night, Rhys consciously hid all news of Evelyn from me. I knew, but I didn’t care. Because every time she was pulled back into Evelyn’s orbit, she’d toss me a new property deed or a ridiculously expensive watch as compensation. What did it matter? A man can’t sacrifice real money for mere dignity. 3 Because everyone knew how deep Rhys’s attachment to Evelyn ran, no one thought I would last. That’s why the wedding announcement shocked the whole City. A week before the wedding, Harper hosted a grand, cynical pre-wedding mixer. She rented out the most exclusive private club and invited the wildest bachelors in the City. And, of course, she invited Evelyn. I had no reaction, but Rhys frowned slightly and murmured to me, “These people get out of hand. If you’re uncomfortable, find an excuse to leave early.” Before she could lead me in, Harper blocked our path, smiling. “Sloan, you don’t usually come to our gatherings. I get it. This is how we unwind. A little different from your quiet life, huh?” She handed me a flute of champagne. I took a sip and adjusted my cufflink. “No worries. You all have fun. Just keep an eye on Rhys. Don’t let her drink too much.” Rhys paused, seemingly thrown by my calm. Harper didn’t notice her sister’s hesitation. She threw an arm around Rhys’s shoulder. “Rhys, he gave you permission. Come on! I specifically told Evelyn to show up. Last night of freedom, you know?” I was past being bothered by Harper’s childish provocations. I simply gave Rhys a small nod. But she suddenly grabbed my wrist, her brow furrowed. “What are you doing, Sloan? Pushing me out the door?” Pushing you away? When were you ever truly mine? I almost laughed. I looked up and challenged her. “What if I asked you not to go, not to see Evelyn? Could you promise me?” The club lights were dim, the music loud. I waited. Harper broke the silence first, raising her voice. “Rhys! They’re waiting!” Rhys’s eyes flickered. Her fingers twitched, and then she let go of my wrist. “I’ll be home, Sloan.” Before she could finish the sentence, Harper yanked her inside. I stood in the hallway’s shadow, watched the door swing shut, and turned to walk away. I didn’t look back. On my way out, a glass shattered in a nearby suite. Then, a man’s choked cry. It sounded familiar. As I neared, the door flew open, and a woman stumbled out, clutching a bleeding forehead, reeking of liquor. “Who the hell do you think you are? You hit me?” Evelyn was standing in the doorway, looking wronged and terrified. “I don’t know you! You kept coming onto me!” “You spoiled little poor boy, playing high and mighty!” the woman shrieked. “Pay me, or you’re not leaving tonight!” Evelyn’s eyes welled up. He was crying but fiercely trying to hold it in. His swollen eyes swept toward me. “Go ahead and watch! I don’t have any connections, but I’m not trash! You don’t get to look down on me!” He made it sound like I was the one humiliating him. The woman grabbed his arm. “Pay up.” “I don’t have cash!” “Then drink all this. I’ll let you go.” She noticed the corner of the black Amex card poking out of his wallet. “You have a card like that, and you’re poor?” “No!” Evelyn screamed, tears streaming now. “I can’t touch this!” “I’ll drink it!” He grabbed a liquor bottle from the coffee table and began chugging it. The alcohol made him cough violently, but he wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t watch anymore. “How much? I’ll cover it.” “I don’t need your fake pity!” Evelyn shrieked, losing control. He raised his hand and struck me. Hard. My ears rang. The side of my face instantly burned. In the dizzying moment, I saw the door burst open. Rhys rushed in, pushing past me without a second thought. She grabbed the trembling man and pulled him tight against her chest. “Evelyn, don’t be a coward. Hit him back!” she shouted. “Why aren’t you using the money I gave you!” I staggered, holding the wall. The pain in my cheek was nothing compared to the shock. “Sloan!” Rhys looked up at me, her eyes like chipped ice. “You said you were going home early! You came here to harass Evelyn?!” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I turned and walked away. She would never know the truth. I desperately wanted her to believe I was the villain. The more she hated me, the easier it would be to leave. Rhys finally came home around 3 a.m., smelling of smoke and expensive liquor. I was still up, researching immigration forms in the study. She snuck up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder. The warmth of her breath, mixed with alcohol, feathered my ear. “Why are you still up? Waiting for me?” “Yes. Is Evelyn okay?” “I’m so sorry, Sloan. I misunderstood. That woman was harassing him. I handled it and came straight back after dropping him off.” She rubbed her face against my neck, her voice laced with a childish attempt at placation. “I kept checking my phone. You didn’t text me once. Are you still mad?” I was too tired to humor her. But she was unusually clingy, forcing me to turn around so she could look into my eyes. “Were you jealous? I swear, I didn’t touch Evelyn. Harper will tell you. I didn’t even give my number to the other guys.” I held her gaze for a long time, then sighed, resigned. I wrapped an arm around her and led her toward the bedroom. 4 The first time I saw Rhys was outside the university gates, near a used bookstore. She had probably just come from the City club across the street, holding a black umbrella, her expression dark, like she’d just ended a devastating fight. Just as she was getting into her car, the store owner grabbed the tattered dictionary I was putting back on the shelf. “Hold it! You folded the page, you buy the book!” “I just opened it. That crease was already old,” I tried to explain, my voice thin in the wind. The owner was relentless. “I say you did it, you did it! Thirty dollars, or you don’t leave!” In the scuffle, my backpack strap tore, spilling my textbooks everywhere. A flimsy, water-stained student aid appeal form fluttered out, instantly soaking up the mud. As I knelt to retrieve it, a black umbrella settled steadily above my head. “How much?” Rhys’s voice was low but carried a cold, absolute authority. The owner stammered, looking her up and down, sizing up the expensive car behind her. “Thi-thirty…” Rhys didn’t speak. Her female assistant stepped forward and handed over a hundred-dollar bill. The owner grumbled and retreated. Rhys finally looked down at me. Her gaze passed over my wet hair and settled on the crumpled form. “Which university?” “…A&M.” She nodded, handed me the umbrella, then knelt down herself. She gathered my waterlogged books one by one. She took off her tailored cashmere coat and, without asking, draped it over my thin sweater. “Get in the car. I’ll take you back.” Her car was parked by the curb. The interior was spotless, the heat already blasting. “Need money badly?” she asked, looking straight ahead, her tone as neutral as discussing the weather. “Yes.” “Your name?” “…Sloan.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, contemplating. “Work for me. I’ll cover your tuition and living expenses. I’ll give you a five-thousand-dollar monthly allowance.” My rational mind screamed at me to refuse. It was absurd. There were no free lunches. But in my periphery, I saw the designer bags and the stacks of US currency carelessly tossed onto the back seat. I wavered. I needed the money. I needed to escape my immediate reality. I needed to grab this sudden, irrational opportunity. She stopped the car beneath a leafy canopy near the dorms. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. She waited silently. “Why?” I heard myself ask. She turned to face me. There was no warmth in her eyes. “You’re beautiful,” she said. She paused, then added: “And this amount of money means nothing to me.” She was right. My desperation, my struggles, were insignificant in her world. I lowered my gaze, clutching the soggy books to my chest. “Thank you. I’ll consider it.” At the time, I didn’t understand her motives. But after hearing her furious phone call, it all made sense. I was an impulse buy, a tool to prove to Evelyn that she’d moved on, a blunt weapon to incite jealousy. But perhaps it was the lure of the money, or a faint flicker of longing I couldn’t name, that made me choose silence in that moment. I knew exactly what I was doing, and exactly what I wanted. Anything but love, I was willing to take. … Perhaps it was my utter calm in the face of Rhys’s desertion that unnerved her friends. One of them quietly called her. “Rhys! Sloan is packing. It looks like he’s actually leaving the City!” I heard a man’s loud, joyful laugh on the other end, and then Rhys’s voice, a shade impatient from being interrupted. “Leaving? What is he pulling now?” “It’s your wedding day, Rhys. The guests are all here.” “And?” Rhys gave a light, dismissive laugh. “Tell him to stop being so melodramatic and wait until I’m finished.” “Rhys, this doesn’t seem like melodrama. He looks serious.” “Why wouldn’t he be serious?” Rhys’s voice was utterly careless. “He’s with me for the money, isn’t he? I’ve given him houses, stock options, jewels—what have I skimped on? To pull this stunt now… he’s taking himself a little too seriously.” She paused, perhaps taking a drink. “Tell him I’ll transfer another million to his account. Tell him to settle down. Men like him just need to be placated.” The hushed conversation ended abruptly outside the door. Even her most loyal friends looked uncomfortable. “He’s only with me for the money.” “Men like him just need to be placated.” I gave a deeply sarcastic curl of my lip as I looked at the lone wedding band on the vanity. I pulled open the door and, ignoring their various stares, calmly walked out.

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Before the wheat was even fully golden, I had the first of Grandma Eliza’s Visits. [Olivia, remember this. A devastating blight is coming this autumn. Planting the wheat will be for nothing. You must sell the green crop as feed now, take the money, and lease a fish farm. It’s the only way to save your income!] I managed to convince Mom and Dad to cut the wheat early, selling the green stalks to a local feed mill, and then flood the fields to start a fish farm. But then came the century-level drought. Every single fish fry baked in the sun. We were left with nothing but scorched earth and a mountain of debt. Desperate and at a total loss, Grandma Eliza’s Visit came again: [Go to the old oak tree behind your childhood home. Your grandfather buried gold bars there for an emergency. The money from them will more than cover the debt!] I rushed to tell Dad. He went and dug, just like she said, but instead of gold, he unearthed an entire footlocker full of cocaine bricks. Undercover agents, who’d been staking out the area, immediately arrested him as a dealer. Given the massive quantity, he was facing life without parole, perhaps even the death penalty. Mom couldn’t handle the shock. She collapsed, unconscious. And once more, Grandma Eliza’s guidance came through: [Dr. Stern at Metro General Hospital is the only one who can save her. If you don’t go now, your mother is in grave danger!] Driven by the frantic need to save Mom, I cornered Dr. Stern at the hospital, practically begging him to operate. He finally agreed. What I didn’t know was that my fiancé, Owen, had been in a severe car accident and needed Dr. Stern’s specialized care immediately. Because I pulled the surgeon away, Owen died waiting on the operating table. And Mom, due to the critical delay, didn’t make it either. She died during surgery. Before her light faded, she looked at me with tears streaming down her face and asked why I had destroyed our family. Owen’s parents were convinced I was responsible for their son’s death. They found me and stabbed me eighteen times in a frenzy of grief and vengeance. I was rushed to the ER, and in my fading consciousness, I saw Grandma Eliza again. But this time, she was grinning, a cruel, mocking smile, as she raised a knife and plunged it straight into my heart. In reality, my heart gave out, and I died on the ambulance gurney. Even as I died, I couldn’t understand why my beloved grandmother’s guidance had led to the utter annihilation of my entire family. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. It was the very morning Grandma Eliza first told me to sell the field. 1 [Olivia, remember this. A devastating blight is coming this autumn. Planting the wheat will be for nothing. You must sell the green crop as feed now, take the money, and lease a fish farm. It’s the only way to save your income…] I jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat. That familiar, chilling voice in my head. It confirmed it. I wasn’t dead. I was back. I was reborn. But I didn’t breathe a word of it to Mom or Dad. I simply flipped over and pulled the covers tighter, trying to drown out the memory. In the previous life, Grandma Eliza had told me the same thing, urging me to tell Dad to cut the wheat and start a fish farm. Grandma had doted on me more than anyone. I had believed her implicitly and immediately told Dad about the impending plague. Since Dad hurt his hand years ago working construction, our few acres of wheat were our only lifeline. They fed us, and they paid for my college tuition. We couldn’t afford risks. I remembered struggling in the previous life, trying to figure out how to sell Dad on such a mystical claim. But he had chosen to trust me, without question. He cut the wheat, flooded the field, and when neighbors teased him, he stood tall, his chest swelling with pride. “My Olivia, she’s a college girl. She knows things I don’t. How could a father not believe in his daughter?” The reality had been a brutal kick in the gut. That autumn, there was no blight. Not a single locust. Instead, a drought the locals called “a once-in-a-century event” descended upon us. Dad frantically hauled water, trying to keep the ponds full, but the relentless heat was too much. The immature fish baked to death. Dad fell ill, our savings were wiped out, and Mom spent every night weeping silently. Yet, she always squeezed out a smile for me, insisting I wasn’t to blame. My self-recrimination was a living thing. And then, the Visions had returned. [Olivia, go to the old oak tree behind the house. Your Grandpa buried gold bars there for emergencies. Now is the time to dig them up!] Excited, I’d told my parents. Dad, ever trusting, grabbed a shovel and went straight out. He did find a heavy box. But when he opened it, there were no gold bars, only brick after brick of white powder. Before Dad could make sense of it, the police, who had been waiting, grabbed him, mistaking him for a drug runner. The charge was so severe, they didn’t even allow visits. The case detective hinted that due to the quantity of controlled substances, Dad was almost certainly facing the death penalty. Mom, shattered by the news, collapsed. The diagnosis: acute heart failure. I’d collapsed, sobbing, at her bedside, and the Visions came again: [Dr. Stern at Metro General Hospital, only he can save your mother. Hurry, or she won’t wake up!] I drove into the city and knelt before the brilliant surgeon, Dr. Stern, finally convincing him to come back and operate on Mom. But I was oblivious. I had pulled him away from the emergency surgery of my fiancé, Owen Mitchell, who had been in a massive pile-up and had shrapnel piercing his heart. Because of my intervention, Owen missed his window of survival and died. Before I could even process the horror of indirectly killing Owen, Dr. Stern came out to tell me Mom’s surgery had failed. I rushed into the room, barely catching her last breath. The woman who had always looked at me with unconditional love now stared, for the first time in my life, with crushing disappointment and confusion. She asked me why I had destroyed our family. In a daze, clutching Mom’s ashes, I left the funeral home, only to be ambushed by Owen’s parents. Convinced I was a murderess, they stabbed me eighteen times. As the paramedics rushed me to the hospital, I saw Grandma Eliza one final time. I wanted to scream, to demand why she had ruined my life, but before I could speak, she raised the knife and plunged it into my chest. My heart burst, and I died on the ambulance floor. Reliving that horror was enough. This time, I would not listen to my grandmother’s misleading Visions. I rationalized it. A localized drought wouldn’t completely ruin the wheat. If I just left things alone, Dad would, at the very least, still get the harvest money in the fall. But I still felt an uneasy dread. The next morning, I took the money I’d saved for a new laptop and bought industrial-grade pesticide. I spent the day dusting our fields, determined to burn out every last potential insect threat. Dad chuckled, saying I was more farmer than he was. I didn’t let up. I monitored the fields every single day. When harvest time arrived, the wheat stood tall, full, and magnificent. The grain broker who came to inspect it gave us the highest quote. “This is top-shelf quality. Absolutely prime. You have to sell this batch to me!” Dad’s sun-darkened face was split with a grin. “This is wonderful! We can finally buy your mother and daughter some proper clothes.” With the harvest scheduled for the next morning, the suffocating knot in my chest finally began to loosen. I was right. Grandma Eliza’s Vision was wrong. All I had to do was ignore it. That evening, Mom cooked a celebratory dinner, and we went to bed early, excited for the harvest. But just before dawn, I heard an agonizing, disbelieving cry. “How? Where did they come from? The locusts!” My internal alarm shrieked. A terrifying premonition shot through me. I didn’t bother with shoes, bolting outside. The sight made my stomach drop. It was a dark, roiling vortex—a plague of insects so thick it looked like a section of the sky had peeled off and dropped onto our land. The beautiful, perfect wheat, ready for harvest just hours ago, was being shredded to stalks. Dad frantically waved his arms, trying to drive them off, but it was useless. He slipped, falling hard, and could only watch, helpless, as the swarm devoured almost the entire field. The man who had always been my rock, who stood so tall in my memory, stayed collapsed on the ground. I rushed to him, barely hearing his broken whisper. “It’s over… it’s all over. The tuition, the medicine, the food… it’s all gone.” Dad’s words were a knife in my heart. Why? I hadn’t listened to Grandma Eliza. The first time, there was no blight. Why did one appear now? Before I could think, Dad had gotten up and walked out. When he returned, his shoulders were slumped, his posture defeated. I knew. He had gone to borrow money from our neighbors. For a man who had taught me to live with integrity and never owe anyone a thing, how utterly humiliating was that? My heart twisted with agony. That night, Grandma Eliza appeared in my dreams again. She seemed to know the new disaster. She sighed, heavy with pity. [Olivia, go to the old oak tree behind the house. Your Grandpa buried gold bars there for emergencies. Gold prices are high now. Sell it. It will save you!] But I knew better. Last time, following this direction led to Dad being framed for drug trafficking. This time, I absolutely would not allow that to happen. The moment I woke up, I called the police. “Officer, I think someone buried something suspicious, maybe evidence, beneath the old oak tree behind our house. It might be illegal.” The police were silent for a long moment, then informed me they would send a unit out to investigate. I knew I was messing up an existing stakeout, but better this than letting Dad go anywhere near that box. That afternoon, a police SUV pulled up. I braced myself, half-expecting a reward or a commendation, but I was wrong. Several officers got out, one of them carrying a heavy, metal footlocker—the very box that had destroyed my life once before. Why would the police bring the evidence here? But when the officer opened the lid, my breath hitched. This time, there wasn’t white powder inside. There were a dozen genuine gold bars. “Officer, why is there so much gold?” Dad asked, confused, stepping forward to get a closer look. As soon as he approached the box, the officers shoved him to the ground and slapped handcuffs on his wrists. The sudden violence sent me reeling. I rushed forward, only to be held back. “Why are you arresting my father!” I screamed. “Because we’ve identified these gold bars. They are part of the cache stolen during a major bank robbery fifteen years ago!” the officer stated, his voice ringing with authority. “We interviewed witnesses and identified the main culprit as your grandfather. Your father’s reaction just now confirms his involvement in fencing and hiding the evidence!” The officer looked at me, his gaze complex. “You may have just put a stain on your family name, Olivia, but you helped the state recover stolen property and bring a criminal to justice. That’s something to be proud of.” “No! That’s impossible! My father is not a criminal! Dad, tell them it’s a mistake…” But when I turned and saw Dad’s face—the shock of betrayal, the genuine guilt, the utter sorrow—I froze. “Is this… is this true?”

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