The night of my adopted sister Savannah’s seventeenth birthday. Dad blew off a major corporate dinner, and Mom gave her the vintage diamond tennis bracelet she’d been saving. Savannah wore the princess gown I’d bought her. She scolded the catering staff for unsteady hands, after a few drops of soup splattered on her hem. The server bowed low in a pathetic apology, and I smoothly played the role of the good-natured older brother. “It’s alright, she just has a stomach ache and wasn’t steady. Don’t worry, Princess.” “Your brother will buy you two more dresses tomorrow.” The server looked up gratefully, and I froze. Her face was Mom’s face. It looked exactly like my little sister, who’d gone missing twelve years ago, would look now. 1 The girl, Chen Yue, had a tiny mole on her earlobe. Her features were uncannily like Mom’s. The instant I saw her, I was certain. My biological sister, gone since she was five, was found. The moment the DNA results came back. Mom gripped her rough hands, tears streaming. “Ellie, it’s really you, we’ve been looking for you for twelve years!” Dad’s eyes were full of aching pity. “It must have been so hard for you all these years.” Savannah sat in the corner, staring at Chen Yue. Her faded, ill-fitting clothes squeezed Chen Yue’s round, slightly heavy figure. The rubber soles of her cheap sneakers were worn thin. She stood there, awkward and constrained, twisting her fingers, looking blank and bewildered. A sharp pang of sorrow hit me. Little Ellie had been like a pure, white snow-bunnly. She loved clinging to me. The first word she ever learned, when she was barely talking, was “Leo.” My own sister, reduced to this. I placed the investigation report on the coffee table, my heart heavy. “Dad, Mom, just read it for yourselves.” Chen Yue—Ellie—had been abandoned by the traffickers when she developed a high fever on the road at age five; they thought she was going to die. She was picked up by a woman, but the woman’s husband was a monster. He was an abusive alcoholic who killed his wife last year and was sentenced to death. Since then, Ellie had been completely alone. To support herself while still trying to go to school, she had worked every possible low-wage job—waitress, cleaning crew, delivery driver. She’d even lugged supplies at a warehouse construction site. Mom and Dad read the report, biting back tears, damning her adoptive father as less than human. They pulled her into a hug, softly patting her back. “Ellie, don’t be afraid. Dad is here. We’ll change your name this week and enroll you in the best private prep school. No one will ever hurt you again!” “My poor daughter, I’m so sorry we let you suffer for so long! It’s all my fault, my fault…” Ellie’s, no, Elena’s, eyes reddened too. She stiffly managed to say, “Mom and Dad.” My eyes felt hot. “Ellie, I’m your brother, Leo. From now on, I’m your protection.” We were immersed in the joy of finally having her back, lost and then found. Until Savannah, pale-faced, brought over a platter of sliced fruit. The girl who was normally so delicate had a testing look on her face. “Have some fruit, everyone.” “Mom, please stop crying. You just had that expensive eye treatment yesterday.” Mom wiped her eyes and playfully glared at her. “I never thought I’d live to see the day you cut up fruit for us.” Savannah had been in the kitchen maybe a handful of times her entire life. She’d never had to lift a finger; everything was done by Mom or the staff. She clenched her hand, pouting slightly. Mom’s sharp eyes spotted the blood. She quickly walked over and took Savannah’s hand, instantly worried. “What happened to your hand?” “I touched the blade when I was cutting.” “Why are you so careless? Rick, quick, get the first-aid kit.” Dad was instantly concerned and hurried into the house. I got up to check the knives in the kitchen, worried she’d left them lying around without common sense, like she sometimes did when she was younger. The three of us fussed over Savannah for a good while. Once a colorful bandage was applied, we remembered Elena, who was still sitting silently nearby, her eyes empty. The atmosphere turned strangely awkward. I explained, “Ellie, this is Savannah. When I was looking for you all those years ago, I heard a baby crying and found her abandoned in a box. She’s like you, she’s had a tough start. Now you’re sisters. Look out for each other.” Savannah put on a friendly smile, walked over, and extended her hand. “Welcome home, big sister. My room gets the best light, so I’ll move out tonight and let you have it.” “And you can pick whatever you want from my things. Though I don’t think my clothes or shoes will fit.” She looked Elena up and down, then playfully stuck out her tongue. “You’re bigger than me, sister, and your feet are huge, so I guess I can’t share those.” “Ah, but maybe that means you haven’t had it too bad all these years. Otherwise, why the happy weight?” Elena’s face flushed crimson. After a long pause, she managed two clipped words. “I don’t need it.” I felt a prickle of discomfort. Why was she so cold to Savannah? Before I could speak, I heard Mom say, “Ellie, you need to be polite.” “Savannah, there’s plenty of room in this house. There’s no need to move around.” In the end, Elena was placed in the room next to mine. It was always cool and had previously been Savannah’s storage room. It was the only available space for now, and I was sure Elena would understand. Elena only brought two things from the run-down apartment: a photo of her and her adoptive mother, and a scruffy orange mutt. Mom and Dad instantly frowned. Dad was a stickler for cleanliness and didn’t like animals inside. Mom wrinkled her nose at the sight of a common stray. But, considering Elena’s feelings, they said nothing. Savannah hugged her arms, fear flickering in her eyes. “I’m scared of dogs.” When did she become afraid of dogs? I didn’t dwell on it. Elena held the dog tightly, her head bowed, looking vulnerable but resolute. “I only want him.” Dad and Mom looked displeased. Savannah said, with a hint of something unreadable, “Sister, you said you couldn’t afford food, but you had money left over to keep a dog?” I intervened, easing the tension. “Savannah, don’t talk nonsense. This dog must be very important to Ellie.” “There’s a small utility room behind the backyard gazebo. We can keep him there.” Elena’s eyes lit up, and she looked at me with gratitude. We spent the day getting new things for Elena. That evening, I brought a box of limited-edition chocolates I’d bought on a business trip to talk to her. “Ellie, are you settling in okay?” “Yes,” she nodded obediently. I wanted to run my hand through her hair but stopped myself, noticing how coarse and split the ends were. “Dad pulled some strings, and the papers are rushed. You and Savannah will start school together tomorrow.” “The private school curriculum is different, and the pace is faster, so Mom hired a tutor for you.” “If you need anything at all, just tell me. Your brother is always here for you.” Elena nodded sincerely. “Thank you.” My gaze drifted to the utility room in the backyard. “Is the little dog special?” Elena glanced at me shyly and explained, “His name is Gus. He was always with me.” “When I was completely broke, he wandered into a diner. The owner thought he was cute, gave me a meal, and let me stay to wash dishes.” “He’s my family.” My heart felt heavy. If she hadn’t been lost, she would be as confident and bright as Savannah. How could she have been left to starve and freeze? I wanted to console her, but looking at her thick frame, I suddenly couldn’t find the words. Savannah’s voice echoed in my ear. Someone who was truly suffering—would they be that heavy? From that day on. Dad went back to his normal work schedule, and I continued my internship at the company. Mom attended her regular society luncheons, dividing her time to care for us all. Elena and Savannah took the same car to and from school. Savannah was openly solicitous of Elena, always deferring to her. She’d help her with missed homework packets, wait for her after school, and put her favorite dishes on her plate at dinner. But Elena never returned the kindness. She never touched the food Savannah served her. She would constantly come home late, claiming someone had blocked her, locked her in the bathroom, or mocked her. She even said Savannah had deliberately hidden a test paper. I didn’t believe Savannah would bully her, but I worried about Elena being a target. Mom and Dad consulted the teachers, who confirmed nothing of the sort had happened. I picked Elena up a few times myself. Each time, her classmates were nothing but friendly. It was Elena who seemed like a porcupine—isolated, irritable, and quick to anger. We reluctantly held a small family meeting. Dad looked at Elena with disappointment. “Ellie, why did you lie?” “I didn’t lie.” Elena was frantic, sweat beading on her round, slick face, her fringe sticking together in strands. I felt a twinge of mild disgust. I turned to look at the clean, composed Savannah, and my eyes felt better. “They knew you were coming to pick me up, so they pretended to be nice!” “Are you saying Savannah alerted them? And the teachers are covering for them?” Elena stubbornly thrust out her neck, admitting it by silence. Savannah trembled, biting her lip, swallowing her pride. “If Sister says so, then it must be true. I apologize, I’m sorry.” A surge of anger rose in me. Since Elena came back, Savannah had been nothing but warm, only to be met with constant coldness. My cherished little sister—why should she be unhappy because of her? Mom was heartbroken. “You’re such a good kid, Savannah. What if she keeps bullying you?” She looked at Elena, her face hardening. “Ellie, we’ve indulged you because you suffered for over a decade. We understand you want family love and attention.” “But there’s a limit to how spoiled you can be. No well-raised child would slander her sister out of jealousy.” “We’ll let this slide, but I expect you to change. Don’t act like those bad kids.” Mom and Dad didn’t want Savannah to be sad, so they took her to an amusement park and asked me to drive. When I came back down with the car keys, the living room was empty except for Elena, sitting alone, clutching her stomach. She seemed to be in pain. “Leo, do you believe me?” I didn’t turn around. “Ellie, senior year is important. Focus on your studies.” “We treat you and Savannah exactly the same. Don’t overthink things, and don’t make trouble.” I couldn’t indulge her anymore; she had to learn. I hardened my heart and strode out, faintly hearing a choked gasp. Elena did change. She stopped accusing Savannah. When she came home late, she only said she was studying. She spent more time with Gus in the garden. Dad decided it was unfair for Savannah to have to wait for her every day, so he hired another driver. A week passed smoothly. But Mom and Dad weren’t happy. Thanks to Elena’s resemblance to Mom, when they met neighbors, everyone was shocked that the biological daughter of the Sullivans looked the way she did. No self-control, no grace, no style, timid and silent. She was leagues behind the poised and elegant Savannah. Mom was subtly mocked a few times and felt humiliated. She complained to us privately. “I wish Savannah were my real daughter.” I saw a shadow flicker outside the door but said nothing. Elena started dieting. She ate only one small meal a day, always boiled vegetables. She often stared blankly at Savannah. Savannah was surprised. “Sister, do you want to be as thin as me? But I was born this way; I can eat anything and not gain weight.” Mom didn’t stop Elena’s diet; she even gave her advice on losing weight. But I saw Elena drag her exhausted body back from school every night, and I hesitated. “Maybe take a break, Ellie. High school students need nutrition for all the studying.” Her dark, deep-set eyes looked up at me. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Leo?” I was suddenly speechless. … Elena’s weight loss made no progress; she was even heavier, and her health was visibly worse. Standing next to Mom, she looked like an older, worn-out helper. Her face was sallow, and she kept to herself, knowing her place. To try and please us, she started getting up early to make breakfast. Mom and Dad didn’t touch it, saying it wasn’t hygienic to mix dough without gloves. Mom complained that she had no concept of ‘luxury’ or ‘quality.’ Elena looked deflated and stopped. The high-end gated community always held an annual Owners’ Gala. It was a chance to network and scout business opportunities, and our family attended every year. This year, because of a rainy July, it was set for August. Mom often dragged Savannah along to pick out dresses. She kept choosing, but nothing felt special enough. She wanted bespoke, vintage-inspired gowns and suits. The tailor’s schedule was booked for over a month. When Mom sighed in frustration, Elena spoke up hesitantly. “Mom, I can make them.” Mom was skeptical. “My… my foster mother was a tailor. I learned from her since I was little. I can make gowns.” Mom gave a strange little laugh. “Fine. You make them, then. The whole family is counting on you.” Afterward, Mom complained to me bitterly. “Her personality is bad enough, now she’s a liar, too. Let’s see how she gets out of this one.” I knew Mom just wanted to teach her a lesson. I did, too. Her opportunistic character would lead to trouble later. Better for us to correct her now than for society to beat her down. But Elena was more serious than we imagined. She took measurements, bought sewing tools, and the best fabric she could afford. Except for tutoring and walking Gus, she locked herself in her room, sewing day and night. Several times, she was found asleep, clutching her stomach and slumped over the sewing machine. There were pain pills nearby. Probably her period, I thought. I told the housekeeper to take up some ginger tea. The night before the Gala, her hands dotted with tiny needle pricks, she presented two gowns and two suits. Her eyes were bright, full of expectation. “Mom, they’re finished.” There was a moment of stunned silence. Mom took them, her expression complex. “You actually… well, thank you.” Elena twisted her fingers, her voice surprisingly light. “As long as you like them, Mom.” I noticed the count was wrong. “Why are there only four? What about yours?” Elena clutched the hem of the suit, lowering her gaze. “…I didn’t have time. You all go, I’ll stay home to study.” Mom looked relieved, yet regretful. “That’s right, your test scores last semester weren’t great. You should focus on your work.” Elena nodded obediently and returned to her studies. I watched her retreating back, lost in thought for a long moment. I’d seen it. The fifth outfit was done, a matching family set. The neckline embroidered with cherry blossoms. But, her not going was the better choice. It was always painful to be mocked. The next day, Mom gave us the clothes. But they weren’t the ones Elena made. “I didn’t even look at them. She’s so young; what quality could she produce?” “Everyone at the Gala wears custom designer items. How could I possibly wear something from an unknown source?” Mom sighed, her voice low. “It’s her fault, too. She couldn’t read between the lines, forcing me to be the villain and turn her down.” Savannah twirled in the gauze dress she was wearing, doing a graceful little dance. “Mom, my taste is good, right? I told you, you get what you pay for. You have to spend money for true luxury.” Dad and Mom praised her. I was also cheered by her lighthearted spirit. As a family, we headed to the Gala. I glanced back once, seeing a lone figure slumped by the upstairs window, a collar embroidered with cherry blossoms just visible. I flashed on her sleepless, dark-circled eyes, and felt a brief moment of unsettling guilt. Savannah sweetly took my arm. “Leo, why don’t we invite Sister? Other people’s opinions don’t matter, family unity is what’s important.” “No need. She said she didn’t want to go. You’re too kind, Savannah.” That day, we posted a nine-photo grid on social media. Elena did not like the post. Mom laughed, calling her petty. Elena spent even more time locked in her room studying. Savannah, however, was always dressed up and going out. She’d sometimes laugh out loud while looking at her phone at the dinner table. She also started asking for more money. We always gave it to her—girls in her social circle had to keep up appearances. She went on a half-month trip with her friends. Mom and Dad missed her terribly. When they tried to video call, she hung up impatiently, saying she was busy. I laughed, comforting my disappointed parents. “It’s your fault for spoiling her, she’s always been dramatic.” Mom glared at me. “You haven’t exactly held back on spoiling her either.” Savannah lowered her head, quietly eating her rice. Summer flew by. Just before school started, Savannah sought out Mom, Dad, and me, her face grave. “Dad, Mom, Leo, Ellie is my sister. I’ve thought hard, and I can’t cover for her anymore.” Her eyes darted around the room. “Yesterday, I went with my friend to a clinic for a routine checkup, and I saw Sister going into the Women’s Health department…”

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My husband, Lucas, posted a baby announcement on Instagram before I’d even gone into labor. The caption read: Seven pounds, six ounces. Mother and son are doing great. Relatives and friends immediately flooded my phone with congratulatory calls, but I just stared at the screen, utterly baffled. It wasn’t until I zoomed in on the photo’s corner that I saw it: a woman’s hand, resting delicately near the baby, wearing a gleaming sapphire bracelet—the kind Lucas had sworn was too extravagant. I was about to storm out and demand an explanation when our mutual friend’s comment popped up. Dude, you forgot to switch accounts. Lucas’s post vanished faster than a cheap magic trick. No explanation. No apology. Not even a quick text to ask how I, his heavily pregnant wife, was doing. I was strangely calm. There was no screaming, no hysterical phone call. I just endured the wrenching pain of the contractions alone and walked into the delivery room. Two hours later, my daughter was born. I mimicked Lucas’s original post, snapping a photo of her tiny hand clutching my finger, and posting it with the caption: Seven pounds, one ounce. Mother and daughter are doing great. Immediately, Lucas’s calls started flashing across my screen. But this time, I let the phone ring until it went silent. 1 Perhaps he was furious I hadn’t answered, because Lucas didn’t contact me for two full weeks. Then, one afternoon in the recovery suite, just after I’d finished feeding my daughter, my phone buzzed again. Savannah—Lucas’s so-called childhood friend—had posted five consecutive videos, a full showcase of parent-baby interaction. In every clip, Lucas was looking down at the infant in his arms, his eyes soft and entirely devoted. They looked like the perfect, effortless family portrait I’d always dreamed of. In that moment, a thousand tiny, sharp blades pierced my chest. I looked at my daughter’s pink, vulnerable face. My poor baby girl hadn’t even met her father. My fingers twitched. I called Lucas. He finally answered on the fifth try. “The baby has a check-up tomorrow. Pick me up.” I heard a small, impatient sigh. “The center has private transport. Why can’t you just ask them?” Yes, the birthing center offered private transport—but only for the Deluxe Wing. Lucas had been so convincing when he swore the premium suites were booked solid and only a standard room was available. I’d believed him, of course, and hadn’t pressed. Then, just two days after I checked in, his Savannah, the ‘childhood friend,’ moved into the Deluxe Wing upstairs, immediately posting a high-profile thank you note that named Lucas specifically. I was his wife, and I was the fool. The words of protest died in my throat. What was the point of saying it? He wouldn’t hear me. My silence only seemed to irritate him. “Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll come back. What time?” “Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow! You nag constantly. You’re going to push away all our good luck. I swear, Harper, I’m going to divorce you!” I don’t know when the word divorce had become his favorite threat. I remembered a time, when we were dating, that a simple cold look from me would send him scrambling to apologize. He had changed. I had changed too. I used to rage, to grab his collar and demand to know the truth. But now, I just felt bone-tired. “Lucas, hurry! The baby just threw up all over me!” A woman’s light, breathy voice called out from his end. Beep. Beep. The call ended. 2 The day of the scheduled check-up, it rained heavily. I called and messaged Lucas starting at nine a.m., but everything went into a black hole. He had lied to me, again. I remembered how clumsy and heavy I’d felt when I was pregnant. I had once fallen and started bleeding on my own, alone on the way to a prenatal appointment. The nurse helped me call him. He’d promised to rush over, but he only arrived three days later. He had the nerve to blame me for being overly dramatic and wasting his time. Since then, I’d stopped calling him as often. We were the closest of spouses, yet we’d slowly become strangers. After the rain stopped, I still couldn’t reach him. I took a cab to the clinic. The doctor said the baby was thriving, but recommended I get checked out; my own pallor concerned her. I thought of the subtle ache in my abdomen before delivery, an ache that was becoming more pronounced now. I looked at my daughter, peacefully sucking her thumb in her stroller. I’ll come back next month, I thought. As I exited the elevator, I walked directly into Lucas and Savannah. Savannah was wrapped in Lucas’s arms in a theatrical, princess-carry position. “Harper, is that you? You look… different. Pregnancy certainly changes a woman, doesn’t it?” Savannah’s eyes darted past me, and I could feel her smug challenge. I was long past caring about her petty jabs. I’d worried about her too many times; now I was simply indifferent. I pushed the stroller forward, my tone flat. “I brought the baby for a check-up. I won’t interrupt you two. I’m leaving.” “Wait, Harper, don’t misunderstand!” Savannah struggled gently in Lucas’s arms. “I broke my ankle in the shower yesterday, and Lucas stayed up all night with me! You know we’ve been like family since kindergarten, and I’m a single woman, Harper. Who else is he supposed to call? If this upsets you, I won’t ask him again.” Lucas patted her rear end, his voice a soft, low register of resigned affection. “You’re a mother yourself, Sav, stop being so dramatic!” Then his gaze hardened on me, his voice sharp with blame. “Harper, you need to lighten up. Savannah broke her ankle. She’s fragile. She has no one here to help. Can you at least speak to her without that passive-aggressive tone?” I looked at Lucas and let out a short, hollow laugh. “I’m basically a widow, Lucas. Should I go find a man to take care of me too?” His pupils visibly contracted. I turned and pushed the stroller away. That evening, Lucas returned, his face set in a cold mask. “I just saw your calls, Harper. Standing you up was wrong. I apologize.” He sighed, his tone instantly shifting to annoyance. “But you are being ridiculous. You have the center’s car—why do you insist on using mine?” At the mention of the car, I looked up from folding the baby’s blankets. “The center’s car is for the Deluxe Wing, Lucas. I was in the standard room.” The room fell silent. Lucas, realizing he had no ground to stand on, pulled a small, palm-sized box from his pocket and placed it on the table. “The room was my mistake. Let’s drop it.” He slid the box toward me. “I brought you a gift. An apology. Go on, open it.” I opened the box. Inside was a pair of dull, barely-jade earrings. They looked like something you’d find in a dusty rack at a drug store. They were a pathetic contrast to the sapphire bracelet he’d bought Savannah for her birthday just two months ago. In Lucas’s mind, Savannah deserved the stars, and I was only worthy of the dirt he casually tossed my way. I closed the box and pushed it back. Lucas frowned. “You don’t like it?” I nodded, meeting his eyes. “No. It’s cheap, and I’m not interested.” I used to be a different woman. I’d worried about his earnings and happily accepted any small token he offered. I’d even pretended a bag of fruit he bought on the street was a grand gesture. But that was before I knew he was lavishing jewelry on another woman while being utterly stingy with me. In five years of marriage, I didn’t own a single piece of real jewelry from him. Seeing my rejection, Lucas grabbed the small box and hurled it against the wall. The fragile case shattered, spraying the cheap jade onto the rug. “I work my ass off to support you! And you walk around giving me that face every damn day! Am I supposed to kiss your feet? You’re a curse, Harper!” Lucas pointed at me, his face twisted in a snarl. “Since you want to be so dramatic, fine. I’m done. I’m not coming back. You can live alone.” I watched him put on his jacket and walk toward the door. Just as his hand reached the knob, I spoke. “Lucas.” He stopped abruptly. He turned back, the rage instantly replaced by a look of forced calm. “See? Why make a scene? You didn’t like the gift, right? Fine, I’ll take you shopping. We’ll buy something better.” He strode back into the room. “Now, go make some dinner. And pack a portion for Savannah. She said she was craving your lentil soup.” He was talking, rambling on, not listening to a word. I waited until he ran out of breath. “Lucas,” I said softly. “When you said you were going to divorce me earlier, were you serious?” He froze, then let out a cold laugh. He tossed his jacket onto the sofa. “What are you saying, Harper? You want to divorce me?” “You’re still upset about Savannah taking the Deluxe Wing, aren’t you?” he went on, not waiting for an answer. “I promised her that suite. I’m not going back on my word for you. If you can handle it, then stay. If you can’t, then we’re getting divorced!” 3 I was about to agree, but Lucas spun around and walked out, slamming his foot against a single armchair near the door. The loud thud woke my daughter. I rushed back to the nursery. I was determined to get divorced, but every time I contacted Lucas to discuss the arrangements, he was unreachable. I finally saw him on the day I moved out of the recovery suite. He was helping Savannah move her things. Two nannies followed him, pulling 26-inch suitcases. Savannah was sitting in the back seat of a luxury SUV, shielded from the sun. I, meanwhile, was sweating, struggling to push and pull my own meager belongings. The contrast was stark. Yet, I felt nothing. Perhaps the certainty of divorce had given me a strange sense of euphoria. Savannah waved. “Harper! Going home today too?” “Why don’t we just give you a ride? You don’t have much stuff, you won’t take up any space.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s all Lucas’s fault. I was only here for thirty days, but he bought me a year’s worth of clothes. Now I’m exhausted from packing.” She spoke with a false tone of complaint, her eyes sparkling with pride and display. I ignored her. The dull ache in my abdomen returned. I fought through the sharp stab and loaded my bags into the taxi trunk with the driver’s help. Before getting into the cab, I looked at Lucas, who hadn’t spoken a word. “Be home tonight. I need to talk to you.” Ten minutes later, Savannah’s new post popped up on my feed. It was a photo of a property deed. The caption was bold and exaggerated: A Childhood Sweetheart trumps a Husband. With my Lucas, I’ll always have a place to call home. #NewBeginnings #BFFs I stared at the bright red deed for a long time. The feeling in my stomach was not bitterness, but a deep, cold irony. Lucas and I had met in college. Everyone said we were meant to be. Later, I’d chosen to move to the city to help him start his business. We could only afford a damp, cramped basement apartment. I got terribly sick in that awful environment, running a high fever. Lucas, that big, tough man, had knelt beside the bed and cried. He’d sworn that every house we ever bought, every deed, would have my name on it. Men’s promises, apparently, were just smoke. I screenshotted Savannah’s post and sent it to my lawyer, asking if I could use it to claim the house. That night, Lucas didn’t come home. I didn’t care. My daughter cried for three hours because of the change in environment. The pain in my abdomen started up again. I crouched down by her crib until the pain subsided. The next morning, I asked my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Davis, to watch the baby and went to the hospital alone. The doctor’s expression was serious. “Ms. Vance, you have a tumor on your abdomen. We don’t know if it’s benign or malignant yet, but given the time you’ve been experiencing pain, it’s growing rapidly. I recommend scheduling surgery as soon as possible.” I left the hospital and sat on a bench, my trembling hands clutching the medical report. As my fingers gradually steadied, I looked down at the diagnosis. I made a decision. I was about to text the doctor when a voice called my name. I looked up. It was Tess, the wife of one of Lucas’s business partners. “Harper! What are you doing out here? It’s freezing! Come up, Lucas and the guys are having a get-together upstairs.” She was loud and warm, pulling me up with a force that allowed no refusal. 4 I decided not to resist. This was as good a time as any to discuss the divorce. The private room was loud, full of excited shouts and laughter. The moment I pushed the door open, I saw Lucas and Savannah interlocking arms, drinking a shot of whiskey. A dozen people cheered them on. “That’s too easy!” someone yelled. “Lucas, hold Savannah and do a kiss-and-shot!” Savannah blushed, and Lucas made a show of playfully resisting. I watched, an icy detachment settling over me. Then Savannah saw me standing in the doorway and feigned surprise. “Oh, Harper! Did you come to spy on us? Seriously, you have to give a man some space. Who could live like that?” Lucas frowned, his voice cold. “What are you doing here?” I stopped the person next to me who was trying to explain on my behalf. My gaze lingered on Lucas and Savannah, and a slow smile spread across my face. “If I hadn’t come, Lucas, how would I have known the kind of games you two play behind my back?” “Harper, are you insane?!” Lucas roared. Savannah defiantly lifted her chin, ensuring I saw the dazzling, purple-hued bracelet on her wrist. I knew instantly it was Lucas’s latest gift. Someone in the room shouted, “Finish the shot!” Savannah quickly poured two more, handed one to Lucas, and held the other. She looked at me. “You’re not jealous, are you, Harper? It’s just friends having fun.” My expression was calm. I spoke only to Lucas. “If you drink that, we are done. There is no going back.” Lucas’s response was to immediately scoop Savannah into his arms. “Don’t embarrass yourself, Harper. It’s a shot. Who are you threatening?” Then, they both intertwined arms and drank. The room erupted in applause. “That’s our Lucas!” “A real man!” I watched their intimate posture, their intertwined hands, and the last fragments of my heart turned to stone. The long-suppressed rage welled up, too violent to contain. I grabbed the heavy ceramic teapot filled with scalding hot Earl Grey and hurled it at them. “Agh!” Both screamed. Savannah, her face distorted in a grimace of pain and fury, lunged and pushed me hard. “You psycho!” My abdomen slammed into the corner of the table. A fire erupted where the tumor was. The agonizing pain stole my breath. Before I could get up, Lucas grabbed a handful of my hair and dragged me across the floor until I was kneeling in front of Savannah.

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I drove home on New Year’s Day, the air thick with the inevitable. My mother, Eleanor, her voice paper-thin from the late-stage cancer, had summoned the whole family. The agenda: a public, final division of the estate. “The doctor gives me a month, tops,” she said, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I’m settling the estate now to save everyone the trouble later.” “The house, the stocks, everything has been liquidated. I’ve wired the funds to your individual accounts. Check your balances.” My sister-in-law, Brooke, and my younger brother, Trevor, were instantly rewarded with a flurry of dings—deposit notifications flooding their phones. A substantial check even went to Mom’s long-time nurse. But my phone, sitting cold and dark in my hand, was a tomb of silence. Mom didn’t argue. She took the money she’d set aside for her own burial plot and, in front of everyone, initiated a second transfer to me. Moments later, the bank’s customer service called, confirming the successful transaction. Yet, my account remained chillingly, impossibly empty. The relatives’ faces twisted instantly. They pointed, shouting that I was a greedy viper, trying to steal my dying mother’s last cent and staging an elaborate act. I was physically thrown out of the house. Wandering the street, numb and lost, I was struck by a piece of falling debris and killed instantly. My final, suffocating thought was the mystery: The transfers were confirmed. Why did only my money vanish? I opened my eyes. I was back. The rewind button had been pressed, dropping me into the minute before my mother finalized the transfers. 1 My phone screen was blank, utterly devoid of the notification I was waiting for. I pinched my thigh, hard. The jolt of pain was a searing, unmistakable confirmation. I was here. Just as in the first life, Mom, frail and barely propped up against the pillows, her skeletal fingers trembling, pressed the final button on her tablet. That transfer was the sum of her life’s work, and in the last timeline, it had been the countdown to my death. Ding. Brooke’s phone shrieked. She let out a laugh so sharp it sounded like fingernails scraping a chalkboard. “Oh my God, Mom! A million dollars! You are a goddamn saint!” She held her screen high, making sure everyone saw it. But her eyes were fixed on me, the corner of her mouth curling into a sneer of pure mockery. Ding. Next was Trevor, my younger brother. He was practically kissing his phone screen, his mouth watering with anticipation. “I’m back in the game! I can finally double up the principal! I’m rich!” he babbled, consumed by his usual gambling fantasies. The entire crowd of relatives shifted their focus to me. The air solidified. I stared at the phone on my lap. As expected, no vibration, no sound, the screen dark and utterly still. A dead silence. I’d already confirmed the account details were correct. Mom would never intentionally exclude me. It wasn’t a mistake on her end. Mom struggled to lift her eyelids, her voice weak as a falling leaf. “Sierra, did you get yours?” I took a deep breath and deliberately turned my screen toward the room. “Zero balance.” The two words were heavy, dropping into the silence like stones. The relatives erupted in a low, poisonous murmur. “How is that possible? Everyone else got it.” “She’s obviously pulling a stunt. Trying to get Mom to give her an extra cut later.” “Told you she was never as meek as she looked. She’s got too much nerve.” The low whispers pricked my skin like a thousand needles. Mom frowned and opened her banking app for everyone to see. She handed her tablet to my older brother, Marcus, to display the receipt. The successful transfer notification was clear, undeniable. The room buzzed. Brooke crossed her arms, her tone dripping with passive-aggression. “Sierra, come on. That’s pathetic, even for you. The money’s gone through. Are you going to keep this act up until Mom hands you the money for her casket, too?” Trevor, his eyes glittering with contempt, immediately backed her up. “Sis, just ask for more if you need it. There’s no need for this elaborate show—it’s embarrassing. Mom is sick, and you’re putting on this act? Have you lost your conscience?” I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. Again. In the last life, they had drowned me in their collective scorn, one lie after another. Mom cut them off, dissolving into a hacking cough. “Cough, cough… Stop fighting… There might be a delay. Don’t accuse Sierra.” “Sierra, call the bank and confirm.” Trevor scoffed loudly. “Mom, you always favor her! Why are you still defending her? You wouldn’t give me a dime when I was getting squeezed by loan sharks, but she’s clearly pulling a fast one, and you’re making excuses!” I shot to my feet, pointing a trembling finger at Trevor. “You’re unbelievable! Is there a limit to how low you’ll sink? Your debt was your own fault! Mom was trying to teach you a lesson—not ‘playing favorites’!” Trevor lunged at me, but our cousin, David, grabbed him just in time. I knew from my past experience that a phone call to customer service would lead nowhere. I grabbed my purse, my gaze sweeping the room, ice cold. “No need to call. I’m going to a branch right now. I’ll check the account at the teller.” “I’m going to prove I’m not lying.” We descended upon The State Trust like a vigilante mob, half-crusade, half-public-shaming. I slapped my debit card onto the glass counter. “I need a balance check, a full transaction history, and I need you to confirm there are no third-party deduction agreements.” The teller, a young woman, was clearly rattled by the crowd. She quickly began typing. The clicking of the keyboard echoed loudly in the silent lobby. A minute later, she looked up, her expression strange. “Ma’am, I’ve checked three times.” “The account status is totally normal—no freezes or flags. No third-party deductions.” “The one-million dollar wire transfer is showing as successful.” I leaned in. “What about the balance?” The teller swallowed hard. “The balance… is zero.” The entire lobby went dead quiet. Brooke was the first to break the silence, a cold, mocking laugh ringing out. “Oh, Sierra. I never knew. When did you get your hack-of-the-year certification? You can trick the bank’s system? The money went in, but the balance is zero? Where the hell did it go? Did you eat it? With this kind of genius, maybe the whole family should start depending on you to make a fortune!” The relatives’ eyes narrowed. I was no longer a greedy sister; I was a high-IQ criminal, an avaricious freak. Marcus pulled Brooke back, frowning at me. “Don’t be an idiot, Brooke. Sierra wouldn’t do that.” He pulled out his phone. “Sierra, I’ll send you a hundred dollars right now. Let’s see if you can even get that.” Ding. Marcus’s phone showed a successful deduction. The teller refreshed the page. “Funds received.” I pointed to the screen. “The balance.” The teller gulped. “The balance… is still zero.” Now even Marcus looked stunned. “Are you kidding me? What the hell is going on?” The branch manager, a harried man in a suit, rushed over to check personally. The sender’s account (Marcus) was fine. The receiver’s account (Sierra) was fine. The manager patted his chest, guaranteeing on his career that the system was incapable of “losing money.” Brooke and Marcus’s faces flushed with alarm. Brooke suddenly shrieked. “Give me back my money, Sierra! Give us back that hundred dollars! That was my son’s allowance! No, give us back two hundred, with interest!” I refused to believe it. I pulled a thick stack of cash—ten thousand dollars—off the supply money for my seafood restaurant, The Catch. I normally used this for cash transactions with older vendors. “Deposit cash, please.” The sharp whir of the counting machine sliced through the quiet tension of the lobby. The screen confirmed the deposit. I stared at the teller. “The balance.” Her hands were shaking. She performed the transaction and her face instantly turned ghost-white. “Ms. Ellison…” “The balance… remains zero.” She stammered, “The system… I think the system is haunted…” That ten thousand dollars had been dropped into a bottomless well. It vanished without a ripple. Trevor suddenly leaped forward, shouting and pointing at me. “I know what this is! You bribed the teller! You’ve got an offshore account! You’re so greedy, Sierra! You’d pull this high-tech garbage just to get more of Mom’s estate!” Brooke joined in, her voice booming. “Everyone look! She’s colluding with the bank to steal money! The greedy viper! Stealing her own mother’s life savings!” Other customers gathered, whispering and pointing fingers. I was shaking with rage, tears blurring my vision. “Fine! I don’t want the estate! Keep the money! I don’t want a single penny!” Brooke put her hands on her hips, spitting mad. “You don’t want it? You don’t get to say that! Spit out the money you swallowed! That was Mom’s money, which makes it our money!” Just then, my phone rang. It was the home nurse. Her voice was strained and tearful: “Sierra! Get back here! Your mother’s crashing!” We rushed back to the hospital. Mom was already in the ICU, unconscious. The doctor pulled off his mask, his face grim. “Her condition is critical. We need emergency surgery immediately.” “The surgery and post-op care will require an immediate deposit of at least thirty thousand dollars.” The air went silent. Thirty thousand dollars. It wasn’t a fortune for a family that had just liquidated millions. All eyes landed on Marcus and Trevor, the two who had received their wire transfers. Mom had always handled her own medical expenses. Now that the estate was divided, this was the children’s responsibility. Brooke stepped forward, clutching her chest for dramatic effect. “Oh, it’s not that we won’t help, but you know how expensive raising a child is, right?” “My son, Aiden, is starting kindergarten next fall. We just put down a non-refundable deposit on a starter home in the school district. If we touch that cash, we lose the house, and Aiden’s whole future is ruined!” Marcus lowered his head, not saying a word, clearly acquiescing to his wife. I turned to look at Trevor. He stiffened under my gaze. “Don’t look at me, Sis.” “Kelly and I are getting married soon. The wedding, the venue, the rehearsal dinner—it’s all paid for with that money. And Kelly’s father is sick. I have to buy him that experimental foreign drug to show my respect. Otherwise, how can I marry into the family?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that nearly brought me to tears. I pointed at Marcus. “Marcus, look at your conscience! Mom drank herself sick doing favors just to get you that City Hall job! She worked three jobs in the freezing cold to get you your down payment and your wedding budget! Her hands were raw, like red meat!” Then I turned to Trevor. “Trevor, you’re a monster! You were always sick as a child, and Mom gave you everything. One time, we all had the flu, and she went to her knees begging for money from neighbors just to buy you medicine! She slipped and sliced her leg open carrying you through the rain to the hospital, and that scar is still there! You’re going to spend her life savings on your fiancée’s father’s imported meds?” Trevor was silent for a moment. Then he lifted his chin, his voice suddenly self-righteous. “The past is the past! Get over it! You look ahead! And besides, Mom will only last another month, tops! What’s the difference?” Pause. “Might as well get it over with.” SMACK! I surged forward and slapped Trevor across the face with all my strength. “You absolute animal! How dare you say that!” Trevor clamped his hand over his cheek, his eyes bloodshot. “You hit me?” “You’re single, you have no financial stress. If you want to pay for the surgery, you pay for it! Don’t play the good child on my dime!” Brooke jumped in, her tone scathing. “Exactly, Sierra! You were so tough at the bank! You said you didn’t want the estate, so now fork over the cash! You don’t have a husband or kids, what are you saving it for? To take it to the grave?” I squeezed my fists, my nails drawing blood from my palms. “Fine.” “Since neither of you will pay.” “I’ll pay.” But I had no money. I slumped down in a corner of the hospital hallway, a stray dog, utterly defeated. I thought about the last few years, the hard work I’d put into my own business. I’d opened my little restaurant, working dawn to dusk, and never asked for a penny from the family. But the economy was bad, and I was barely surviving. That ten thousand dollars I’d deposited—the last of my working capital—had vanished along with Mom’s inheritance. I was officially broke. Utterly confused, I called the police. They listened to my bizarre story and agreed to open an investigation, but told me it would take time. Time? Mom didn’t have time. The doctor returned, holding the consent forms. “Ms. Ellison, the OR is ready. But the anesthetist won’t proceed until we have the deposit.” I stared at the long line of zeros on the form, feeling suffocated. I couldn’t just sit here. Saving her was paramount. I gritted my teeth and gripped the doctor’s sleeve. “Please, doctor, start the surgery! I beg you!” “I guarantee the full thirty thousand will be paid within three days! You have my word!” The doctor looked at my pleading, tear-filled eyes, and sighed. “Alright. I can tell you’re serious. Special circumstances. But I can only give you three days.” I went home and immediately gathered the employees of my restaurant. “I’m so sorry, but I have to close the restaurant.” “Your final paychecks will be wired in three days. I promise I won’t stiff you.” My staff was sad but understanding. I then called the greasy developer, a guy named Mr. Kress, who had been circling my lease for months. “Mr. Kress, I’ll transfer the restaurant to you.” “But I have one condition: I’ll drop the price by twenty percent if you pay me in cash, right now.” Mr. Kress was ecstatic. “Well, Sierra, why didn’t you say so sooner? No problem. I’ll have my accounting team wire the money immediately.” A sudden memory of my account, the financial black hole, hit me. “No! Absolutely not! No wire transfer!” “It has to be cash! I need the cash!” Mr. Kress looked at me like I was insane. “Sierra, are you feeling alright? Who uses hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash? Besides, I’d have to reserve that much at the bank. It can’t be done today.” I was insistent. “It has to be cash! I’ll take a bigger cut on the price!” Reluctantly, Mr. Kress agreed. “Fine, fine, you’re crazy, but I’m in.” He called his accountant. “Hey, Louie, go pull the cash…” Mr. Kress’s face changed. He looked at me with a panicked expression. “Sierra, I’m sorry. It’s too late. The accountant said they wanted to show good faith and wired the money already.” My brain went numb. The blood drained from my body. My hands trembling, I opened my banking app. The refresh icon spun like my life ticking down. The refresh completed. Balance: 0. I refreshed again. Still 0. My heart sank into a pit of despair. The phone slipped from my grasp, hitting the floor. This was Mom’s deposit! It was the last chance I had, the final straw I’d paid for with my entire life’s work! Just then, my phone rang on the floor. It was an unknown number. I picked up numbly.

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At the start of the new semester, my mother cut my monthly allowance from $1,200 down to $200. She didn’t even give it to me all at once. She doled it out in installments: $50 a week. Every time I requested my money, she demanded a detailed expense report, down to the last penny. She claimed it was to “cultivate the habit of thriftiness” and teach me “gratitude toward my parents.” I immediately turned around and posted a photo on Instagram. In the picture, my left arm was draped around a guy with tattoos and piercings, and my right hand held a Big Gulp from 7-Eleven. The caption read: The best men are the ones willing to spend money on me. Thirty seconds later, my mom’s FaceTime request lit up my screen. 1 “Ava, I sent your allowance. Accept it.” “Remember to eat more protein. You need to stay healthy.” I stared at the Venmo notification. $50. I froze. Fifty? For living expenses? Did she miss a zero? No, even with a zero, $500 a week would be generous, but $50 a month was impossible… wait. I texted her back immediately: “Mom, is this a mistake? Why is it only $50?” Two minutes passed. The “typing” bubble appeared and vanished several times before she finally replied: “That’s correct. Starting this month, your allowance is $200. I’ll send it once a week, $50 at a time.” “Oh, I forgot to mention. Every time you ask for the next payment, send me an Excel sheet of your spending.” “You’re alone in New York City. Your father and I can’t watch over you, so you need self-discipline. We can’t have you becoming spoiled and hedonistic.” Excuse me? Hedonistic? Me? What kind of power trip was she on now? Since freshman year, my allowance had dropped from $1,200 to $1,000, then to $800. I gritted my teeth and made it work. Oatmeal for breakfast, a salad for lunch, skipping dinner under the guise of “intermittent fasting,” and squeezing in gig work between classes. But this is NYC. The cost of living is suffocating. Even with $800, I barely bought necessities and avoided social events like the plague. Now, she slashed it to $200? $50 a week? That wasn’t budgeting. That was starvation. And she wanted me to “eat more protein”? With what money? Splitting it into four payments? She was treating me like a beggar. And the bookkeeping? It was like being a sharecropper on her plantation. I tried to reason with her. “Mom, $50 is impossible. It doesn’t even cover food.” “A sandwich at the bodega is $8. A decent meal with protein is at least $15. That’s nearly $20 a day just to exist.” “Besides food, I need necessities. Tampons, toothpaste, toilet paper, laundry detergent…” “I can’t buy new clothes every week, but I need something once a season.” “I’m not even asking for makeup, but basic skincare costs money. A moisturizer isn’t free.” “I need a social life. Sorority dues, dinners with classmates… and…” I was about to list more when her call cut me off. Her voice shrieked through the speaker: “Great, Ava. Just great. You go to the city and your heart turns wild.” “$200 a month isn’t enough? When I was in school, I had nothing! You don’t know how good you have it.” “Can’t you give us some peace? I’m trying to teach you financial responsibility. It’s a virtue!” “I am your mother. You should be grateful for whatever I give you. How dare you complain?” “And you’re there to study, not to party with trashy people. You are not allowed to go out.” Finally, she dropped the nuke: “If you talk back again, you won’t get a single cent.” Click. She hung up. I forced a smile. This was the seventh time she’d threatened to cut me off since I started college. 2 The first six times, I folded. I apologized, I groveled, I belittled myself to satisfy her need for control. I was like a dog, and the allowance was the leash she used to choke me. I was miserable, but I was too scared to break free. I had just left home. I was timid. I had this innate desire for family, believing that even if the world rejected me, my home would be my sanctuary. Now I realized: once I left home, there was no storm outside. The storm was my mother. The suffocation came from that house. I pulled out my notebook and stared at the numbers. $200 for a month in Manhattan. It was a death sentence. Just then, my roommate Chloe walked in. “Hey, wanna grab Thai food? There’s a new place on 3rd Ave.” I swallowed. A Pad Thai was $18. I couldn’t afford it. I smiled bitterly. “I’m good. I’m trying a new diet. No dinner for me.” I rubbed my stomach, ignoring its growl. Suddenly, I felt a familiar cramp. Oh no. Not now. I opened my drawer. One lone panty liner sat in the corner. The $50 I just received had already gone to the club treasurer for dues I owed. My bank account had $3.60. My tutoring money wouldn’t clear until tomorrow. I couldn’t even afford a box of tampons. I put my head on the desk, defeated. Chloe saw my face. “Ava? Did your mom cut you off again?” I sighed. “Not cut off. Just… throttled. $50 a week. I have to count every penny or I won’t make it to Friday. Begging her is so humiliating.” Last month, I spent an extra $100 on a textbook code. When I explained it to Mom, she berated me for an hour on speakerphone. She said back in her day, they copied notes by hand. She said I was too comfortable. My roommates heard everything. It was mortifying. Since then, they stopped inviting me to expensive dinners. Instead, they found “Buy One Get One” deals to include me. Especially Chloe. She was old money, beautiful, and kind. She fed me often. To save my pride, she’d ask me to organize her notes or run errands in exchange for “treating me.” When she heard the new policy—$50 a week—she slammed her hand on the desk. “What kind of mother is she? Even a stepmother in a Disney movie isn’t this cruel.” “$200 a month? In this city? You can’t even breathe for $200.” “Installments? Audits? She’s running a sweatshop, not a family.” “Ava, forget the money. Just stick with me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll pay you $3,000—no, $5,000 a month to be my assistant!” I waved my hands, grateful but refusing. She wasn’t my parent. She had no obligation to raise me. “I’ll find another gig. I’ll figure it out.” I opened my laptop to look for work. Chloe slammed it shut. Her eyes glittered. “Ava, I have a plan. Do you want to try it?” “A way to make your mom beg to give you money.” 3 “Your mom squeezes you because she knows you’re scared. You’re too obedient.” “Whatever she gives you is charity to her. A power play.” “She’s betting you can’t survive without her control.” “So, if you show her you’re out of control, she’ll panic.” I looked at Chloe, confused. “What do I do?” She winked. “Find a ‘bad boy.’ Take a picture. Post it. Caption it thanking him for his generosity.” “Not real generosity. Just… a Slurpee. Make it look like you’re falling for a deadbeat just because he bought you a $2 drink.” “Let her see that because she starves you, you’re easily bought by any guy on the street.” “I guarantee she’ll cry and beg you to break up, and the money will flow.” I was skeptical. “Will that work?” Chloe was a woman of action. She dragged me to the Art Department, found a guy with a nose ring and a spiked leather jacket, and asked him to pose. We snapped the photo. I typed the caption: The best men are the ones willing to spend money on me. I set the privacy to “Mom Only” and hit post. Five minutes later, the video call came in. I took a deep breath. “Hi, Mom.” She didn’t let me finish. She was screaming. “Ava Miller! How cheap are you? Dating behind our backs? Are you that desperate for a man?” “And look at him! He looks like a criminal! What is he wearing?” “Did we starve you? Did we deny you clothes? You’re throwing yourself at men for food? You are disgracing this family!” “I told your father you shouldn’t have gone to college. You’re just looking for trouble!” Her words were like hammer blows. I swayed, dizzy. Chloe held my hand tight, grounding me. I gathered every ounce of courage I had. “Mom, you won’t give me money to live. Naturally, someone else will. I don’t care if he has tattoos or if he’s a ‘bad guy.’ Anyone who feeds me when I’m hungry is a good person to me.” Then, I hung up. Chloe looked terrified. “Ava… I’m so sorry. That was a bad idea. I didn’t know she would say… those things.” “I thought parents would just be scared you’d get taken advantage of. My mom would have just wired me cash.” I comforted Chloe. “It’s not your fault.” Her mom wasn’t my mom. My mom didn’t care about my safety; she cared that I embarrassed her. She didn’t care why I found a “bad boy.” She just wanted to brand me as bad. I laughed bitterly. “Well, now I definitely won’t get that $50. I really might need you to keep me alive.” Just then, my cousin Sarah called. Her voice was panicked. “Ava! Check the family group chat! What is your mother doing?” 4 I opened iMessage. My blood ran cold. Mom had screenshotted my Instagram post and sent it to the extended family group. She added a paragraph of text: “Look at the wonderful daughter I raised. Worse than an animal.” “She’s boy-crazy. Goes to college just to hook up with trash.” “She’s selling herself for a Slurpee. That’s how cheap she is!” “Looking at her now, she probably started sleeping around in high school. Acting like a good girl in front of us.” “Disgusting. I don’t have a daughter anymore.” I never thought text on a screen could physically hurt. What mother curses her daughter like this? She could have asked me. Instead, she branded me a “slut” to the entire family. To punish my “disobedience,” she destroyed my reputation. The group chat exploded. Dad: “Stop talking nonsense.” Cousin Sarah: “Aunt Brenda, calm down. Ava isn’t like that. I believe her.” Aunt Karen: “Oh, girls these days. Once they leave the nest, they go wild. Just dating, right? Probably started years ago, hehe.” Uncle Mike: “Wow. Didn’t know Ava had it in her. Quiet ones are always the wildest.” Cousin Sarah: “Shut up! Do you know how damaging that is? Just because Aunt Brenda says something doesn’t make it true. You’re calling her loose based on one photo?” Aunt Karen: “Watch your mouth! This family is falling apart. Girls sleeping around, girls swearing at elders. Chaos!” Cousin Sarah: “Keep your mouth shut, Karen. Uncle Mike was buying a gold bracelet for a 20-year-old girl last weekend. Worry about your own house.” Uncle Mike: “That’s a lie! I swear!” Sarah dropped a photo into the chat. High definition. Uncle Mike, his yellow teeth grinning, arm around a young girl at a jewelry counter. Aunt Karen: “You animal! You won’t buy me a ring, but you buy that tramp gold?! I’m done!” Cousin Sarah: “Auntie, I have more pics of him with different women. $100 via Venmo and I’ll send the album. Friends and family discount.” She posted her QR code. … Sarah DM’d me a hug emoji. Don’t worry about her. Everyone knows your mom is a control freak. I got you. I felt a warm breeze in my frozen heart. Unconditional trust felt so good. To prove myself, I screenshotted my conversation with Mom about the allowance. “The photo is me, but I’m not dating him. I posted it to show Mom that her allowance is unlivable.” “$50 a week. Detailed receipts required. I work two jobs and still can’t make ends meet. I’m a student. I can’t work a third job.” “If you all think I’m greedy for wanting more than $200 a month in New York City, then I have nothing to say.” “I apologize for the joke. I shouldn’t have done it.” A second later, Dad replied. Dad: “What $200? Your mother said she sends you $2,000 a month!” Me: “?!”

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After three years of chasing Lucas, he finally agreed to date me. But everyone knew he still wasn’t over his last relationship. The first time we had a fight, I left in a fit of rage late at night. I got into a car accident and lost my memory. In the hospital room, Lucas gave me a phone number. “This is your boyfriend, Archer’s number.” I believed him. He sighed in relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. But later, he crashed my wedding to Archer. He stubbornly gripped the hem of my wedding dress, refusing to let go: “Don’t marry him, I’m begging you.” Chapter 1 On my fifth day in the hospital. Lucas came again. Unlike previous days, today he handed me a slip of paper with a phone number. “This is your boyfriend, Archer’s number.” Lucas kept a straight face. “Before the accident, you two had a fight, and you deleted all his contact info.” “Did we break up?” If we didn’t break up, why hadn’t he come to see me after all these days in the hospital? Lucas said, “That’s between you two. I’m an outsider, I don’t know the details.” Just as I was about to speak, the door pushed open. A tall, lean figure walked in. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. The tailored shirt and trousers outlined a physique with perfect proportions. He was literally walking pheromones. I stared blankly as he leaned in close to my face. “Heard you broke your brain?” Wait… “Who are you?” “Archer.” My feelings were complicated. I asked Lucas, “Is he really my boyfriend?” Archer paused, looking at Lucas. Lucas stared back at him intently, but spoke to me: “Yes, he is your boyfriend.” Archer narrowed his桃花 eyes (peach blossom eyes – charming eyes). A moment later, he let out a scoff. “I am, indeed, your boyfriend.” I don’t know if it was my imagination, but after Archer said that, Lucas seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “When are you being discharged?” Archer asked again. “Tomorrow.” Archer’s eyes filled with amusement. “Then I’ll come pick you up tomorrow, girlfriend.” The last word curled up at the end, carrying an endless, lingering charm. I suddenly blushed, my heart racing. “Hazel…” Turning my head, I met Lucas’s displeased gaze. I restrained my smile. “What’s wrong?” He pressed his lips together. “I’m getting engaged in a few days, I can’t pick you up tomorrow…” I nodded understandingly. “My boyfriend is here, you go busy yourself with your stuff.” Chapter 2 The next afternoon, Archer came to pick me up. He helped me pack and handled the discharge paperwork. He was outrageously considerate. He took me home—to his home. Looking at the brand-new toiletries in the bathroom, I asked puzzledly: “Why is everything new?” He answered leisurely, “The day we fought, I threw out everything related to you.” The corner of my mouth twitched. “So are you over being mad now?” He nodded, then shook his head. “What does that mean?” He lazily lifted his eyes. “You’re already like this, I have no choice but to forgive you.” I paused. “Did I start the fight?” He didn’t speak, just looked at me silently. His gaze made me feel guilty, and I didn’t dare meet his eyes. Finally, I cleared my throat and turned toward the walk-in closet. “Let’s let bygones be bygones. We’ll get along well from now on.” Opening the closet door, I discovered it was full of new clothes with tags still on. From inside out, everything was there. The entire closet was new. I tried to hold it in, but couldn’t. “Archer, why didn’t you throw yourself out too!” He looked blank. “What?” “You threw out everything I touched. I’ve touched you, why didn’t you throw yourself out?” Archer seemed to just realize what I meant. In an instant, he turned his face away unnaturally, a flush creeping up his ears. After a while, a magnificent voice came: “You haven’t touched me.” I shook my head without hesitation. “Impossible.” He was grown exactly to my aesthetic preferences. I only lost some memories, I didn’t become stupid. With such a handsome man in front of me, I couldn’t possibly sit still and be a saint. The more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt. I asked: “Archer, is it that you… can’t perform?” “What are you saying!” Archer grabbed a set of pajamas from the closet and shoved them at me. “Go wash up, I’ll make you something to eat.” He left immediately, giving me no chance to react. At night, when it was time to sleep. I waited and waited, but Archer didn’t come to bed. Walking out of the room, I found out he had already gone to sleep in the guest bedroom! When I pushed open the guest room door, he was just about to take off his pants. The moment our eyes met, he quickly pulled his pants back up and even wrapped a bathrobe around himself. Tsk. Living together and he’s still guarding against me. I walked over silently, lifted the quilt, and burrowed in. Archer was dumbfounded. “You, you, you…” I patted the spot beside me. “Come here.” He didn’t move. “Aren’t you going to sleep?” I asked. He stared at me, looking like he wanted to say something several times but stopped. “Are you scared? Or is it that you really can’t perform?” Archer finally moved. He walked to my side, wrapped me up like a burrito with lightning speed, and carried me back to the master bedroom. It wasn’t until I heard the door close that I realized my boyfriend might really have a problem. In the middle of the night, while sleeping groggily, Archer came into my room. He lifted my nightgown and did all sorts of bad things. He teased me until I was parched but refused to give me relief. I cried out in anger, “Archer, I’m breaking up with you! I’m finding a man who’s better and more capable than you!” He bit me fiercely. “You dare!” “Hmph, watch me! Get off!” I kicked out, but kicked empty air. The huge movement woke me up. Looking around, it was broad daylight. It turned out to be just a dream. Outside the door, Archer was knocking. “Get up for breakfast.” Ten minutes later, I sat at the dining table. He had buttoned his shirt all the way to the top button. Looking serious like an old veteran cadre. Clearly, the last two times I saw him, he didn’t button up properly, and I could faintly see the pectoral muscles under his shirt. The more I thought about it, the more unwilling I was. “Archer, how about I make you an appointment with a urologist?” Archer suddenly started coughing violently, unable to stop for a long time. I handed him a glass of water and said slowly: “Don’t worry, as long as you can be cured, I won’t despise you.” Archer coughed until he could barely breathe. I quickly patted his back and gave him water. After bustling for a while, he finally stopped. “I am very healthy.” Before I could question his words, he added, “Today is Lucas’s engagement party. Come with me.” Chapter 3 We arrived a bit late to the engagement party. Archer insisted I dress to the nines. I really shouldn’t have listened to him. As soon as we appeared, almost everyone’s eyes fell on me. I was a bit uneasy. “Archer, why are they all looking at me?” Archer curved his lips. “Because you’re beautiful.” I wasn’t used to such occasions and excused myself to the restroom. As soon as I entered a stall, voices sounded outside. “I can’t believe Archer actually brought Hazel here. Isn’t this blatantly embarrassing Lucas?” “It was supposed to be Hazel and Lucas’s engagement party. Who knows what kind of scene she’ll make when she gets her memory back.” “What can she do? Lucas doesn’t love her, otherwise he wouldn’t have temporarily changed his fiancée.” “Blame Hazel’s bad luck. Getting a head injury at this critical moment gave Chloe a chance.” “But why is Archer with Hazel? They’ve been enemies since childhood. Now that she has amnesia, they’re together?” “Who knows, maybe Archer is just playing with her.” “I guess so. Archer once said he wouldn’t marry Hazel even if she was the last woman on earth.” “Alright, stop talking. Walls have ears.” Silence fell outside. I stayed in the restroom for a long time. When I came out, I saw Lucas. His eyes were deep. “You just got out of the hospital, why didn’t you rest at home for a couple more days?” “Thanks for the concern, I’m fine.” I tried to walk around him, but he blocked my path. “Hazel, did you hear anything today?” “You mean about Archer and me being enemies? Enemies can bury the hatchet. Besides, I like him quite a bit now.” “You don’t like Archer.” I was puzzled. “You’re not me, how do you know I don’t like him?” Lucas realized he misspoke and tried to recover: “That’s not what I meant, it’s because… before you lost your memory, you told me you didn’t like him anymore.” “Hazel.” Lucas’s brow showed a hint of coldness. “You can’t remember the past now. As a friend, I suggest you take this opportunity to break up with Archer.” Just as his voice fell, a scoff came from the shadows nearby. “Lucas, that’s not very nice of you.” Archer stepped out of the dark, his long legs bringing him to my side in two strides. “Haven’t you heard it’s better to tear down a temple than ruin a marriage?” Lucas: “You’re not married yet.” Archer took my hand. “Sooner or later.” He checked the time. “We have other things to do, we have to go. Oh right, happy engagement. May you be together forever.” With that, he pulled me away quickly. In the car, buckled up. Archer said, “I’m taking you for a ride.” He just went. Floored the gas pedal onto the highway. I was tense all over, clutching the seatbelt, not daring to make a sound. I should have known better than to get in his car. Yet Archer didn’t realize his problem, relaxed as if he were riding a bike in his backyard. The car sped on the highway for an hour, finally slowing down and stopping on a beach. I quickly pushed the door open and got out, gasping for air. Archer walked to my side, smiling. “Carsick? Shouldn’t be.” I ignored him. He took two cans of beer from the trunk, sat on the sand, and waved at me. I couldn’t believe it. “You raced here just to drink?” “Alcohol adds to the fun, didn’t you know?” After a moment of silence, I sat next to him. Just as I reached for a beer, he snatched it away. “You just got out of the hospital, you can’t drink. I’ll drink it for you.” Chapter 4 The consequence of letting Archer drink was that I had to drive for two hours like I was facing a formidable enemy. Archer seemed to have drunk too much, stumbling when he got out of the car. Out of pity, I went up to support him. Entering the elevator, Archer extended his long arm and clasped my waist. That captivating face was inches away, adding a bit of charm due to the drunkenness. I inexplicably swallowed. Unexpectedly, Archer caught it all. “Look good?” His rich voice carried a hint of tenderness. I looked away and pushed him. He remained motionless. When the elevator door opened, he suddenly bent down, picked me up bridal style, and headed straight for the master bedroom. I was startled. “Archer, what are you doing?” He put me on the bed, supporting himself with hands on either side of me. “Date, drink, sleep. Can’t miss one.” My mouth twitched fiercely. I kicked his calf. “Go shower first.” He got up and scooped me up along with him. “Together.” Just as we reached the bathroom door, my phone rang. I patted him. “Put me down.” Archer was unmoved. “Calls at this hour aren’t worth answering.” Inside the bathroom, he placed me on the vanity counter and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. The phone ringing outside stopped abruptly. A few seconds later, Archer’s phone rang. He took the phone from his pocket, hit answer and speaker, and set it aside. “What’s up?” Only the sound of our breathing filled the spacious bathroom. I could hear Lucas’s voice clearly. “Where did you take her?” Archer unbuttoned the last two buttons of his shirt while saying, “Couple stuff. Mind your own business.” Taking off the shirt removed the obstacle, revealing defined abs. I couldn’t resist and put my hand on them. But just as I touched his chest, he caught my hand. The man’s voice was low: “Don’t rush, wait until I finish the call.” As soon as he finished speaking, Lucas’s furious voice came from the phone: “What are you doing!” He ignored Lucas, looking at me, smiling like a rogue. “Want to verify if I can perform or not?” I subconsciously gripped the hem of my dress. “Then you…” “No! You can’t! Hazel, come out, I’m coming to pick you up right now, you can’t be with him…” The voice cut off. Archer hung up the phone. I was a bit puzzled. “Lucas seems very opposed to me being with you?” “Because he’s jealous I have such a beautiful girlfriend.” He slowly leaned in, warm breath spraying on my face, tickling. I instinctively dodged to the side. Unexpectedly, big hands turned my face straight, and an overwhelming kiss fell. He had absolutely no technique to speak of. Even so, my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. I don’t know how long it passed, until I could barely breathe, the doorbell rang. Archer let go of me, his black eyes tainted with emotions I couldn’t read. My dress had been pushed up to my waist at some point, the ironed fabric now wrinkled beyond recognition. I gave him a ghostly glare. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he was about to kiss me again. Just then, the knocking outside was deafening. There was a stance of not giving up until the door opened. Archer was displeased, but he pulled my dress down. “I’ll go check.” I heard Lucas’s voice. But it wasn’t convenient for me to go out looking like this, so I waited quietly for Archer to come get me. Not long after, Archer returned. He said, “I’m going out for a bit. Wait here for me like a good girl.”

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My wife, Chloe, died in an earthquake while vacationing with her lover. When the rescuers dug her out of the rubble, her body was already cold and stiff. She was found tightly shielding the man beneath her. It took significant effort to separate them. Everyone was marveling at this “epic, tragic love story”—until they contacted me, her husband. When I arrived, I saw Chloe’s body covered in a white sheet, and her spirit standing right next to it. Chapter 1 From seeing Chloe’s crushed body to sending her into the crematorium, only a few hours passed. The first burn didn’t completely disintegrate everything. I refused the staff’s suggestion for a second round. Why waste the money? I picked the cheapest urn available. Chloe’s ghost was screaming at me the entire time. Her vocabulary was so limited, it was pathetic. I ignored her like background noise. Watching Chloe being pushed into the incinerator, I beamed with a bright smile. “Chloe, oh Chloe. Look at the karma. The day after your lover, Julian, woke up, he was already laughing and hugging another woman. I bet he didn’t even visit his savior.” Hearing this, she froze, then flew into a rage. “Mason! Stop slandering him! Julian is kind! He’s not a liar like you!” Chloe’s face was twisted and hideous. Oh well. Julian really hadn’t come to see her. Chloe’s screaming gave me a headache. Suddenly, I felt even the cheapest urn was too good for her. I spent a dollar on a takeout box from a nearby restaurant. The box was a bit small. After a moment’s thought, I decided to let Chloe shine one last time. I dumped the excess ashes into a roadside flowerbed. Tossing the takeout box into the trunk, I drove home. Although my best friend was watching my daughter, I was still worried. Chloe couldn’t stray too far from me. In fact, she could only leave the morgue because I had arrived. She curled up in the back seat like she was dodging a plague. “Psycho,” I muttered. Chapter 2 I parked and walked toward the house, but saw a man in casual clothes pacing at my door. It was Julian. This was a well-known wealthy neighborhood. Security was top-notch. Average people couldn’t just walk in. I subconsciously looked at Chloe. She was just staring blankly ahead, murmuring, “Julian, did you come for me?” In that moment, it felt like someone shoved a fly in my mouth. I looked at the community’s green belt. It looked like it needed some fertilizer too. Chapter 3 “What are you doing here?” Julian jumped, startled. Unnaturalness was written all over his face. “Mr. Carter… I… I came to find Chloe.” I shook the takeout box containing half of Chloe at him. “You mean this?” Tears instantly welled up in Julian’s eyes. “Is this Chloe? How could it be? I woke up and didn’t see her… I thought she left me.” Terrible acting. But someone ate it up. Chloe was soft-hearted to a fault. She lunged forward, trying to wipe Julian’s tears, but her hands passed through him. “Julian, don’t cry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have doubted you. It’s all this evil man’s fault, he’s trying to drive a wedge between us!” A ghost and a human in love. What a moving scene. Too bad one was acting, and the other was a fool. Two idiots. “If you didn’t see her, couldn’t you look? You have legs, don’t you? Or a mouth to ask? Do you need me to draw you a map? Oops, said the quiet part out loud. Sorry.” The crying stopped abruptly. Julian looked at me. “Mr. Carter, I know you’re angry, that’s why you’re saying these things. I don’t blame you. I know you don’t love Chloe, and she would only be miserable with you. Please, give me her ashes.” Seriously? Is he mentally ill? I didn’t want to engage in mental gymnastics with him. “Julian, get this straight. Whose wife was Chloe? Now leave. I’m going home.” Julian grabbed me anxiously. In the struggle, I lost my grip. The takeout box hit the ground. Good news: the box didn’t break. Better news: the ashes spilled. I immediately called the police. Someone was trying to rob me. Seeing me call the cops, Chloe shielded Julian like a hero, cursing me. “You rotten, heartless bastard! You’ll get your karma!” Heh. Who’s scared?

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After my wealthy family finally found me, their adopted son—the fake heir—ran out crying and was hit by a car, breaking both his legs. Then, the family suddenly went bankrupt. To pay off debts, my biological father worked construction and fell, ending up in a vegetative state. My mother, unable to handle the shock, nearly died of a heart attack. Everyone said I was cursed, that I brought misfortune to the family. But my sister held my hand firmly and said: “Leo, I believe none of this is your fault. Let’s work together to carry this family, okay?” Touched beyond words, I worked countless jobs, exhausted like a dog. Three years later, I rushed to the hospital clutching thirty thousand dollars for medical bills, only to see my supposedly vegetative father sitting up in bed. “Serena, the three-year test is almost over. Do we still need Leo’s thirty grand today?” My sister laughed. “Of course we do. Why wouldn’t we?” “The motorcycle I bought for Caleb cost exactly thirty thousand. Consider it Leo’s apology gift.” Caleb, who should have been wheelchair-bound, stood up and hugged her. “I love you the most, sis!” My mother looked a bit worried. “But where did Leo get so much money? A test is a test, but we shouldn’t force him down a dark path!” “Don’t worry, Mom. Leo has Rh-negative blood, it’s worth a lot. My people saw him going to sell plasma. Once he passes the final test, I’ll tell him the family secured an investment.” I clutched the bank card, my hand instinctively covering the agonizing pain in my lower back. How could selling plasma possibly earn thirty thousand dollars? That money came from selling my kidney. But my sacrifice, risking my life, was just a test of familial loyalty! If that’s the case, I’ll just leave. … Chapter 1 Through the glass of the hospital room, I watched the family laughing and chatting happily. My heart felt like it was being carved by a knife. I covered my mouth with my hand, holding my phone up, trying to stifle my sobs. It was all a lie! My sister, who said she believed in me, was torturing me to vent anger for the fake heir. Even my biological parents played along with their misery, forcing me into the life of a stray dog. Memories of the past three years’ suffering flooded back like a tide. Only now did I realize the many plot holes. I had been too exhausted from the grind to even think. Through my tears, I saw a familiar figure stepping out of the elevator. It was Mr. Lewis, Dad’s former subordinate and current “debt collector.” I put away my phone and hid in the stairwell, watching him lead two bodyguards into Dad’s room. His fawning voice drifted out. “Mr. Vance, you truly have foresight! Pretending to go bankrupt to test the young master—only this way can you guarantee he isn’t just after the Vance family fortune.” “I heard the day you pretended to become a vegetable, the young master knelt by your bed and cried for a day and a night. Such a filial son!” Mom laughed too. “Yes, for three years I scolded him terribly, yet he still recognizes me as his mother. He is indeed filial.” My sister’s voice was cold. “He hasn’t passed Caleb’s and my test yet. Who knows if he’s scheming deep down?” Dad nodded. “Correct. To truly be Edward Vance’s son, he must pass the whole family’s test!” “Understood, Mr. Vance. I’ll play my part well…” My nails dug deep into my flesh. My heart was filled with agony. So that’s it. For three years, Dad’s test was to see if I was greedy. Mom’s test was to see if I would remain filial despite her coldness. And now, my sister’s test is to see if I’m willing to risk my life to pay off debts for the family. But I don’t want to play this role anymore. I don’t want this family anymore. Just as I turned to leave, Caleb spotted me outside the door. He flashed a provocative smile at me, then clutched his leg and collapsed back into the wheelchair, crying out in pain. “Since my brother caused me to almost become crippled, can I ask him to kowtow and apologize to me?” “Of course! He was the one who agitated you into that car accident. He owes you this!” Hearing the family spoiling him, I felt dead inside and prepared to leave. The next second, the door opened, and my sister saw me standing by the elevator. After a moment of shock, she immediately put on an anxious face and pulled me over. “Leo, you’re finally here! Mr. Lewis is inside demanding payment, come quick!” The moment she dragged me into the room, Mom was holding Caleb, weeping. Dad, who was just bossing people around, was back in bed with his oxygen mask on. My sister pulled me down, bowing and pleading humbly: “Uncle Lewis, for the sake of my dad, can we just pay thirty thousand in interest today? Once I get the investment, we’ll pay the rest…” Mr. Lewis looked at us with disdain. “Thirty thousand? You think I’m a beggar? Your dad is like this now, his ‘face’ isn’t worth a dime!” With a wave of his hand, the two bodyguards started smashing things. Mom cried her heart out. My sister gritted her teeth and pulled me to kneel with her. “Please, just give us a few more days! Before the end of the month, we will definitely pay it back!” “Besides, the doctor said my dad might wake up. You don’t want to burn bridges, do you?!” Pleading mixed with threats finally made Mr. Lewis relent. “Fine. Give me the thirty thousand now. If you don’t have the rest by next month, don’t blame me for getting nasty!” I gripped the bank card tightly. This was the money I exchanged half my life and a kidney for. My sister noticed my hesitation and hugged me, persuading: “Good brother, you’ve worked hard these three years.” “My deal is about to go through. Once we cure Dad, our family will get better and better!” Mom also knelt down towards me with a thud. “Son, Mom was wrong to blame you before. You aren’t a jinx, you’re the lucky star who can save our family!” Since Caleb broke his legs and Dad had his accident three years ago, Mom had hated me. She called me a jinx who almost killed her husband and son, never giving me a kind look. If this were before, hearing her call me “son” and seeing her weep like this… I really would have given my life for her. But now, I knew she was acting. Just to test if I would part with the money. I looked up at the ceiling, fighting back the surging tears. Mom, you gave me my life. Is it worth just thirty thousand dollars? If you think I owe you, I’ll pay you back. I helped her up and handed over the card. After Mr. Lewis took the money, he pointed at Caleb in the wheelchair dissatisfiedly. “The whole family knelt to me, why didn’t this brat kneel? Does he look down on me?” Caleb’s eyes reddened. My sister quickly apologized, but Mr. Lewis wouldn’t let it go. “This brat needs to kowtow three times loudly for this to be over! Otherwise, I’m kicking your whole family out of the hospital today!” Mom and my sister immediately pressed me down, forcing my head against the floor heavily. “Sorry, Mr. Lewis. Caleb is disabled, let his brother do it for him!” My forehead slammed against the cold tiles. Humiliating blood mixed with tears blurred my vision. Caleb sat in his wheelchair, looking down at me with triumphant eyes. From an angle no one else could see, he mouthed slowly: “You can’t beat me.” I scrambled up, wanting to flee, but the world spun. Blackness took over, and I passed out completely. In my stupor, I heard my sister and Mom screaming for a doctor. When I woke up again, it was the next day. I found myself lying in our dilapidated shack. My sister and Mom’s voices drifted in. “Sigh, did we go too far?” “Three years, letting Leo live in this dump… the doctor just said he fainted from long-term malnutrition and excessive blood loss. Sigh! We should have stopped him from selling plasma…” My sister interrupted Mom. “If it’s a test, how can it be easy? Three years ago, if his ambition hadn’t agitated Caleb into that accident, we wouldn’t have seen his true colors!” “Consider this his atonement to Caleb, and a way to prove himself! Once he passes Caleb’s test in three days, he’ll be the young master of the Vance family forever, enjoying endless wealth!” Mom still hesitated. “But the doctor said he needs a full checkup. Isn’t it dangerous to bring him back here like this?” “It’s just malnutrition and blood loss, what danger could there be? Some iron supplements and he’ll be fine. Keeping him in the hospital might make him suspicious. Where would we get the money to pay for his stay?” “Sigh, true.” They stood up and walked out the door. I slowly opened my eyes, looking at the rotting roof, my heart in agony. If they had just agreed to the checkup, they would have found out my blood loss wasn’t from selling plasma. It was because I was missing a kidney. A week ago, my sister cried to me that if we didn’t have thirty thousand dollars, Dad would be kicked out of the hospital. At my wit’s end, I saw a shady flyer on the street corner advertising plasma donation. I thought my Rh-negative blood would fetch a good price, but those black-market doctors were heartless. They said only a kidney would get that kind of money. When my sister called crying again, I walked into that back-alley clinic without hesitation. For seven days, I hid in a motel clutching my wound, lying that I was working out of town. I intended to keep my sister from worrying, but I never expected… She knew exactly what I went to do! But why did she lie to Mom and Dad, saying I only sold plasma? Sister, do you hate me that much for Caleb’s sake? Creating a situation where I had to carve out a kidney to atone. So in your eyes, I was never worthy of being your brother, more like an enemy, right? Even though you were the one who held my hand and said we were family, that we would carry this burden together! The pain in my heart far exceeded the physical pain. Through blurry eyes, I saw a bottle of iron pills on the bedside table, and my sister’s phone. I picked it up and tried her birthday as the passcode. It unlocked. [Leo is going to the hospital today, hurry back and get ready.] In the chat with Mom and Dad, my sister constantly reminded them. [Sis, today is my birthday. Will you come celebrate with me? Or do you have to be with him?] In the chat with Caleb, she coaxed him gently. [I haven’t forgotten. Three years ago on your birthday, he almost caused you to be disabled. Of course I’ll be with you!] Trembling, I opened my sister’s social media. That’s when I realized. She had posted so many updates that were hidden from me. Photo after photo of her and our parents with Caleb, looking happy and blessed in a villa. For the past three years, I was the only one working myself to death. They were living the good life in a mansion. I fought back the tears and took photos of these posts and chats with my own phone. Then I put her phone back. Staring blankly at the ceiling, my mind flashed back to my sister holding my calloused hands, tears streaming down her face. The way she knelt for me when Mom kicked us out of the hospital room. She said, “Leo, you are my biological brother. I believe in you. One day Mom will accept you. Hang in there.” For three years, I lived alone in this converted boat shack, freezing and starving. Last winter, when I had a high fever, I video-called her. The moment she accidentally accepted, I saw what looked like a luxury villa background. Then, she panicked and hung up, texting me impatiently: “I’m discussing a partnership at my boss’s house. Don’t disturb me.” For three whole years, she and the family enjoyed life in a villa while I suffered alone. Only when dealing with me would they return to the hospital to act. It was laughable that I scavenged scraps other fishermen didn’t want just to buy her a thick quilt. Turns out she never needed it. My familial love was wasted. I opened my phone to buy a ticket, only to find I had $6.90 left in my account. That was my food money for the next three days. Is their punishment to strip me of even the freedom to leave? Mocking myself, I dialed that number. “Do you still buy blood? I need money urgently. Okay, three days from now.” Three days later was exactly the end of the month my sister planned for. It was also the day of their final test for me. Using three days to say goodbye to three years of fake family was enough. My sister lifted the curtain and entered, her face changing when she heard my words. “What are you doing in three days?” I hung up and forced a bitter smile. “Did you forget what day it is in three days, sis?” She slapped her forehead, remembering. “Right! It’s your birthday! After three years, I can finally celebrate it with you.” “Leo, once I secure the investment, what birthday gift do you want? I’ll get you anything!” Mom also came in smiling. “Yes, you’ve worked hard these three years. Mom needs to make it up to you too.” My heart felt bitter. “I haven’t thought of it yet. I’ll tell you on my birthday, okay?” My sister and Mom exchanged smiles and agreed readily. Just as they were about to say more, my sister’s phone rang. She picked it up, glanced at it, and her face changed. “Caleb says Dad isn’t doing well. Mom, we have to go back immediately!” Before, I would have insisted on going with them. But now, I knew it was just an excuse to get away from me. I obediently stayed in the shack, watching them leave. As I was about to pack, a message popped up on my phone. [Leo, you heard everything at the hospital yesterday, right?] [The whole family believes me. They tortured you for three years for me.] [You didn’t seem very willing when you kowtowed to me yesterday… Since that’s the case, my test for you in three days won’t be so simple.] [With me here, don’t think about returning to the Vance family as the young master. Got it? If you’re smart, get lost now. Being kicked out by the whole family later will be much uglier!] … Each sentence pierced my heart like a dagger. So the final test was set by Caleb? No wonder he was confident I would fail. Ultimately, Mom, Dad, and Serena treated him as their real family. I, the outsider who couldn’t fit in, should leave. I dialed that number again. I wanted to ask if he could buy my blood two days early. I really needed the money. “Earliest is three days! Besides, it hasn’t even been half a month since you sold your kidney. Are you trying to die? “Forget it, forget it. I won’t take your blood in three days, I’ll just give you an extra thousand bucks. You scare me!” Touching the dull ache in my lower back, I smiled bitterly. Why wouldn’t I fear death? For three years, my family played me like a fool. I desperately wanted to leave them and live for myself. Is fate toying with me? Even leaving has to wait three days. Fine. I also wanted to see how far the family would go for Caleb, the fake heir, in three days. The next day, my sister called saying she had to accompany Caleb to rehab and wouldn’t be back. Half an hour later, Caleb sent me a photo. In the picture, Mom, Dad, and Serena were enjoying a feast with him in a luxurious villa. A huge family portrait hung on the wall, missing only me. Looking at the photo, my eyes stung. Their home never included me. When the clock struck midnight, I sat blankly on the beach in front of the shack, looking up at the stars. Caleb sent another video. The family was singing Happy Birthday to him. Serena gave him motorcycle keys, Dad gave him 5% of the company shares, and Mom personally designed a diamond-encrusted tuxedo for him. And I only received dry “Happy Birthday” texts from Mom and Serena. “Serena, what do you think Leo is doing right now?” “What else? Probably crying tears of gratitude over our text messages!” The conversation stabbed my heart. Yes. If I didn’t know the truth, I would definitely be moved to tears by those two texts. Mom finally said Happy Birthday to me personally. The cold sea wind stung my eyes. I silently saved the video Caleb sent. Along with the video I recorded outside the hospital room and the chat logs, I set two scheduled messages. One to Serena. The other to social media. Serena, by this time tomorrow, I’ll be gone. I hope you and Mom and Dad like my final gift. As dawn broke, I dragged my luggage to find the blood broker. I thought I could get the money and leave, but he looked behind me and smiled sinisterly. “I said I wouldn’t take your blood, but someone else wants to.” Shocked, I turned to see Mom and Serena rushing toward me. “Leo, quick, give blood to your brother! Only you can save him!” They dragged me to the hospital, where I saw Caleb lying pale on a bed. I instantly understood. This was their final test. But with my current condition, if this goes wrong, I will really die! “I can’t give blood right now…” Before I finished, Mom’s face changed. “Great! I knew you wanted your brother dead, didn’t you!” Just like how she accused me for three years. Serena looked disappointed and urgent. “Leo, lives are at stake, stop being willful!” “I know you don’t like him, but he’s family we raised for twenty years! Can you bear to see him suffer?” Face pale, I looked at them sincerely. “Mom, Serena. Three years ago, I didn’t say anything to make Caleb leave. I never wanted him dead. You have to believe me.” “We believe you! As long as you give him blood, we believe you!” Looking at Serena’s eager gaze and Mom’s displeasure and suspicion. I resigned myself to the bed, letting the doctor insert the needle into my arm. “If this makes you believe me, then my life… doesn’t matter.” Mom scolded, “Stop talking nonsense! It’s just a little blood, it won’t kill you!” The moment the blood was drawn, breathing became difficult, and my vision darkened. Serena whispered to the eyes-closed Caleb, “How about it? Did he pass?” Caleb lay still, no reaction. Mom said unhappily, “It’s only been a little bit, what’s the rush?” It wasn’t until the doctor drew a full bag that I completely passed out. Serena noticed something wrong first. “Leo? Good brother, it’s done. You can open your eyes now. Sister has good news for you!” But no matter how she called, I didn’t react. “Doctor! My brother’s hand is so cold, come look!” Caleb sat up in bed, looking aggrieved. “Sis, is Leo ignoring us on purpose because he didn’t want to give me blood?” Mom sneered. “He’s definitely just trying to scare us because we forced him. Leo, stop acting and get up!” The doctor checked my eyelids and pulse, turning pale with shock. “Not good! The young master has no pulse or heartbeat!” Serena and Mom froze. Only Caleb’s eyes flashed with triumph. The curtain was thrown open, and Dad, who had been hiding, couldn’t hold back anymore and rushed out. “Didn’t we agree to tell him I woke up once he passed? Why is it like this!” “Doctor, save my son!” The doctor quickly ordered the nurse to lift my shirt for defibrillation. The next second, he stared at my body in horror. “The young master lost so much blood because he had a kidney removed! With his constitution, how could he handle this?!” My parents and sister stood frozen. “How… it was just selling plasma. How could he have a kidney taken…” Serena’s face was white as she mumbled to herself. At that moment, her phone rang. She picked it up in a panic. One look, and she collapsed to the floor. “It’s from Leo. Mom, Dad! He heard what we said in the hospital room that day!” “He knew we were testing him all along!” My parents’ faces changed drastically. Dad threw himself on me, holding my hand. “Son, Dad was wrong. Dad shouldn’t have listened to them to test you. Don’t scare Dad, wake up, okay? Dad promises, no more suffering. Dad will make you the most pampered young master of the Vance family!” But no matter how he screamed, I showed no sign of waking. Seeing the defibrillator failing, the doctor ordered oxygen and a blood transfusion. But I have Rh-negative blood. The hospital had no stock. Ordering it would be too late. Dad looked up, staring coldly at Caleb on the bed. “If it weren’t for your idea of a test, Leo wouldn’t be like this. Did you want him to die so you could be the sole heir?” Dad, a veteran businessman, finally realized this adopted son wasn’t as simple as he seemed. Caleb turned pale and threw himself into Mom’s arms, crying. “Mom! I didn’t! I asked you and Serena when I thought of this. You said he drank imported supplements for days, so one bag of blood would be fine.” “Three years ago, if Dad and Serena hadn’t done everything to get panda blood for me, I would have died! Can’t we take one bag from him today? If I really hated him, why would I come up with such an easy test?” Mom hugged him and yelled at Dad. “Caleb is the child we raised for twenty years. He’s so kind, how could he be like you say! Besides, he didn’t know Leo lost a kidney! How can you blame him?” Dad was speechless, only gripping my hand tighter, urging the doctor. Caleb sensibly rolled up his sleeve to offer blood. Serena was still scrolling through her phone frantically. She seemed to see something, her eyes filling with rage. She stood up and slapped Caleb. “Serena, why did you hit your brother!” Mom gasped. “Scum like him deserves to be my brother?” Serena shoved the phone screen into our parents’ faces. They clearly saw the video Caleb sent to provoke me, and his gloating threats telling me to leave. In that moment, Dad finally exploded. “Caleb Vance, you are just an adopted son. You dare dream of replacing my own flesh and blood? You better pray my son is okay, or I will make your death very ugly.” Mom also looked at Caleb with disappointment. “Caleb, you had twenty years of love that belonged to your brother. Why weren’t you satisfied? Why did you provoke him like that?” Caleb cried that he was wrong, that he only wanted to get back at me verbally for the accident three years ago. “Mom, Dad, I didn’t really want to kill him! Take my blood. If it saves him, I’m willing to die! Consider it atonement for my immaturity!” Mom sighed. “You’re still childish.” Dad snorted and said nothing more. The doctor sweated profusely as he transfused blood into me. Finally, the monitor beeped. I started breathing again. “The patient’s will to live is very low. He shouldn’t be stimulated. We should all go out.” Under his persuasion, the family left. As soon as the door opened, Mr. Lewis stumbled over. “Chairman, it’s bad! The internet is attacking our company. Look!” Dad’s relief vanished. He checked his phone and saw tons of missed calls and messages. Online was the post I made. The video of him, the family, and Mr. Lewis plotting the test. The audio of Mom and Dad acting with Caleb to force me to kowtow. The records of my remittances from three years of hard labor. And the chat logs of the family enjoying the villa with Caleb while he taunted me. The most shocking part was an audio recording. “Your panda blood is valuable, but to get thirty thousand, we’d have to drain you dry. Are you not afraid of death?” “But there is another way. Sell a kidney. Exactly thirty thousand. Think about it.” In my hesitation, Serena’s voice message played. “Leo, they said if we don’t pay the interest, they’ll kick Dad out. He’ll die!” I hung up and said firmly, “Okay, I’ll sell a kidney.” Public opinion exploded. 【Are these parents or demons? To test their own son, they made him sell a kidney?!】 【The Vance family is evil. Torturing their bio-son for an adoptee, making him kowtow. I can’t take it!】 【Living in a mansion with the adoptee while the real son rots in a shack for three years. Wow.】 【Can his mom just die? She doesn’t deserve to be a mother…】 Seeing this comment, Mom clutched her chest and collapsed. Serena supported her, face pale, muttering: “How… how did Leo go from selling blood to selling a kidney?” Dad kicked her, furious. “It’s all your fault! Coming up with such a radical test, causing my son to sell a kidney! I don’t have such a vicious daughter!” Serena seemed to realize something. She tried to contact the subordinate who guided me. The number was disconnected. “He was my man. He said he saw Leo sell blood. How could this happen…” Serena realized the subordinate was compromised. She remembered seeing him at the hospital that morning. He hadn’t gone far! She immediately ordered people to guard the airport and stations to bring him back. Dad ordered Mr. Lewis to handle PR at any cost. They would claim the video was staged by Caleb, and the audio was guided by him. They would issue an apology letter to me, admitting their mistake. That was the best solution. But Dad underestimated the netizens’ rage. Someone dug up my attempt to leave after learning the truth. The photo showed the luggage I left behind when Serena and Mom intercepted me. Inside was a new floral quilt, a shell necklace, and a worn diary. The diary was full of gratitude to Serena for believing I wasn’t a jinx and willing to support the family with me: 【I’m used to hardship, but Serena isn’t. She’ll get cold in this shack. I scavenged for half a month to buy this quilt. I hope she likes it.】 【I have a fever. I wanted to call Serena, but I saw her in a warm villa doing business. Good. She doesn’t have to freeze with me…】 【Serena said she’s getting a big investment. Dad’s debt will be paid, and he’ll get better. Great!】 【Mom finally acknowledged my effort and let me see Dad. I’ll work harder so she accepts me!】 …

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To save my husband who was dying of cancer, I agreed to a system’s mission. Three years later, I returned from the other world. My husband and mother-in-law wept with joy, surrounding me with warmth and concern. The system asked if I wanted to close the portal to the other world. After all, I had died there due to complications in childbirth, and it worried about my mental state, offering me a rare chance to take one last look. Just as I was about to confirm closing it, I walked into my house and heard my mother-in-law’s voice: “Chloe, in my heart, you are the true mistress of this house.” “Who knows how many green hats she put on my son during those years away.” A woman with red eyes rushed out of the room, locking eyes with me. Seeing her features so similar to mine, and my husband’s unnatural expression… I called out to the system: “Wait. Don’t close it yet.” Chapter 1 The temperature in the hallway plummeted. “Ava, why aren’t you coming in—” The elevator door pinged open. Caleb’s words choked in his throat. “Chloe, please don’t leave.” My mother-in-law, who had rushed out, froze. Upon realizing what was happening, she immediately shielded the woman, assuming a protective stance. “Ava, this is Chloe. She’s my goddaughter.” “Don’t misunderstand, Chloe and I were fellow patients.” “My mom felt bad she was fighting cancer alone, so they supported each other,” Caleb quickly explained, avoiding my gaze. My mother-in-law laughed awkwardly and chimed in: “Yes, yes. Whenever I see Chloe, I think of our Ava.” “Thank goodness we beat cancer, and Ava woke up. God bless us.” At the mention of the past, Chloe Miller’s eyes reddened further, and she began to wipe away tears, sobbing. Caleb instinctively took a step forward, concern in his eyes. The smile on my lips stiffened. Ten years in the other world equaled three years here. The obsession with curing Caleb and reuniting with my family supported me through a decade of isolation and countless breakdowns. Finally, I succeeded in the mission and woke up from my vegetative state. Just moments ago on the video call, my mother-in-law was weeping with joy, saying how good it was that I was back. I forced a smile and naturally went to check the shoe cabinet. A cabinet full of women’s shoes that weren’t mine made my breath hitch. My hand paused. I randomly picked a pair of slippers that looked unworn. Chloe spoke softly: “Ava, those were a gift from my friend. I haven’t worn them yet.” My hand froze. Caleb quickly grabbed a pair of disposable slippers for me. “Where’s Leo?” I changed the subject, asking about my son. When I left, Leo was only a few months old. That tiny bundle nestled in my arms, reaching out chubby little hands to touch my face, babbling “Mama.” My longing for him had grown wild. I couldn’t wait to see him. But when I glanced at the wedding photo in the center of the living room, I felt like I had fallen into an ice cave. It wasn’t the photo Caleb and I took back then. Although the setting, attire, and even the poses were identical. Looking closely, the woman wasn’t me, and Caleb wasn’t his younger self. Clearly, it was a new photo of Chloe and Caleb. I looked back at Caleb. He was frantically signaling something to his mother, his eyes full of blame. The air in the room became alien. I clenched my hands, opening my mouth to speak. Suddenly, a child rushed out of the bedroom. He ran past me, straight into Chloe’s arms. “Mommy! I want milk!” He nuzzled Chloe’s face, acting spoiled. That was Leo! My child! Tears uncontrollably welled up, blurring my vision. Instinctively, I stepped forward, voice trembling: “Leo… do you remember me? I’m Mommy…” Leo looked up. His guarded and alert gaze pricked my heart like a needle. His childish voice pushed me further into the abyss. “Who are you? You’re not my mommy.” “I have a mommy. My mommy is right here.” Chapter 2 Leo clutched Chloe’s sleeve, looking at me like I was a formidable enemy. I stood there, stunned, looking up in disbelief. But both my mother-in-law and Caleb tacitly avoided my gaze. Mechanically, I looked around. The living room sofa had been replaced with a color I hated most. The plants I hand-raised on the balcony were gone, replaced by a fishing chair. This house, once my marital home with Caleb, now housed my mother-in-law and another woman. There was no trace of me left. Seeing my bewildered panic, Caleb couldn’t bear it. He pulled me over to comfort me: “Ava, so much has happened these years. I’ll explain it slowly.” “Leo was so young when you left. How much did you expect him to remember?” He turned to his mother: “Mom, you and Chloe take Leo out to play for a bit.” Leo, sensing something was wrong, fussed a little, but Chloe coaxed him, and he obediently went to put on his shoes. Before leaving, he didn’t forget to glare at me: “When I come back, you better not be in my house!” The small child slammed the door with a deafening bang. My heart trembled violently, endless grief spreading. “Ava, Leo was too young then, crying for his mom.” “Chloe happens to look so much like you, so he mistook her for you.” “I was so sick back then, one foot in the grave. If it weren’t for Chloe, Leo would have gotten sick and been in trouble many times.” He choked up, eyes reddening. “We didn’t know if you could come back…” “For Leo’s sake, we pretended to be a family. The wedding photos and everything are fake.” My throat felt like it was being strangled. I couldn’t make a sound. “Leo is young. Give him some time, okay?” Caleb asked hoarsely. Seeing me nod silently, he immediately smiled through his tears and hugged me tightly. I tried hard to regulate my breathing, propping up my crumbling body, went to the bedroom, and fell asleep. When I woke up, it was already evening. Some dishes were on the table. In the kitchen, my mother-in-law was busy serving food. Leo stood on a small stool, helping to wash dishes. Caleb took a dish from Chloe’s hands, exchanging a smile as their eyes met. The family sat down, chopsticks already moving. Caleb finally looked up. Seeing me at the corner, he stood up in a panic, face full of regret. “Look at my memory. Ava, you slept well? Dinner is just ready, come eat.” He helped me to the table. Just as I was about to sit, the support beneath me vanished, and I almost fell. Looking down, Leo had pulled my chair away. He scowled, glaring at me angrily: “Why are you still here!” “I don’t want to see you! Go away!” He grabbed my clothes, using all his strength to pull me toward the door. Seeing I didn’t move, his eyes turned red with rage, and he started punching my legs with his little fists. “Leo Vance! What do you think you’re doing!” Caleb shouted sternly, scaring tears out of Leo instantly. Chloe immediately hugged the child distressedly, comforting him softly: “It’s okay, it’s okay, Leo. Mommy is here.” “This auntie is Mommy’s good friend. She likes Leo very much. Can Leo try to be nice to her?” Seeing Leo calm down, she looked up at me, her eyes flashing with triumph. Caleb also turned to look at me, pleading in his expression, shaking his head at me. The meaning was clear: don’t provoke Leo, the child only recognizes Chloe. Grief surged in my heart, burning my insides. I gave a bitter smile, pulled out a chair, and ate my rice in silence. Chapter 3 Everything seemed calm on the surface. The wedding photo on the wall was taken down. Leo threw a tantrum, and Caleb begged me to take it slow, so our wedding photo wasn’t put back up. I tried to detach from the mission world and recommit to reality. But the atmosphere between Caleb and Chloe always made me feel suffocated. They didn’t do anything explicitly, but the eye contact made me feel like the third wheel. Watching Chloe take care of the child, I remained expressionless. “Look, Chloe plays piano very well. She taught Leo well too.” Caleb hugged me, smiling. “How much longer is she staying in my house?” I interrupted indifferently. Caleb’s smile froze visibly. He softened his voice: “Isn’t this good? Chloe helps take care of the child without affecting anything.” “Good? Your son calls someone else ‘Mom,’ and you think that’s good?” My tone was harsh, and Caleb’s face sank. “What do you mean?” “Chloe has worked hard without complaint all these years, acting like a nanny every day. We owe her so much.” “She has no family and has long treated this place as her home. She hasn’t provoked you, and now you want to kick her out?” He raised his voice, implying I was being unreasonable. Seeing my silence, he sighed again. “My mom recognized her as a goddaughter, so she is our sister.” “I know you just came back and feel bad.” “But everything was fine, and you suddenly doing this messes everything up.” There was hidden blame in his words. Like a knife stabbing the softest part of my heart. He meant I was the uninvited guest who disrupted his peaceful life? Chloe, sitting at the piano, heard the commotion. Meeting my eyes, she looked like a frightened rabbit, smiling ingratiatingly with red eyes. But looking closely, the provocation in her eyes couldn’t be hidden. Leo also turned around. Seeing me, his smile vanished. “Daddy, come here, let’s play piano together.” As he spoke, he glared at me fiercely. Warning me not to approach. I didn’t want to watch their happy family of three anymore and turned to leave. I thought Leo was just too young to recognize me. Now I realized, it seemed no one wanted to accept me anymore. That night, after showering, Caleb naturally tried to pull me into his arms. But the scent of his body wash was the same as Chloe’s. I turned sideways, dodging him. “Ava, there is absolutely nothing between me and Chloe. We are innocent.” “Are you still going to make a scene? Must you target Chloe?” Caleb’s tone darkened. Seeing no reaction from me, he said quietly, “Are you thinking about someone else?” “Ava, tell me the truth. In that world, how far did you go with him?” My breath hitched. I knew he meant the man I had to romance for the mission. The emotions I desperately suppressed surged like a tide. In that moment, meeting his suspicious and scrutinizing gaze, my blood seemed to freeze. He knew. Every day he lived meant my target’s affection level increased, meaning I was loved more by another man. So, he was disgusted? My eyes burned, tears blurring my vision unknowingly. His expression softened slightly, showing a hint of pity. Then he gripped my hand tightly: “Forget it. It’s good you’re back.” “Every day was actually painful for me. I didn’t dare dream of today…” “From now on, we can be together forever.” His tone was as deeply affectionate as ever. But it didn’t sound like celebration; it sounded like consolation. And his eyes were a pool of darkness I couldn’t read.

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There were two stray cats living in the flowerbeds of our apartment complex. My daughter, Harper, would go down every day to feed them. But I noticed something odd: she only fed one of them. She completely ignored the other. In fact, I once caught her sneaking down to kick over the second cat’s bowl if a neighbor had left food out for it. When I asked her why, she looked me dead in the eye and said, “That one’s a male. Males are trash. He deserves to starve.” I was shocked. I immediately tried to correct her. “Harper, saying all males are trash includes me. I’m a man. Am I trash too?” She shook her head vigorously, hugging my waist. “No, Daddy, you’re the best father in the world. But except for you? Yeah. Men are garbage.” I mentioned this to my wife, Linda. She just laughed it off. “Kids that age go through phases. Boys play with boys, girls play with girls. It’s normal to have prejudices.” She even argued it was a good thing. “Look, the world is a dangerous place. It’s like a dark forest. You never know if a stranger is a predator or a person. Keeping her guard up against men? Better safe than sorry.” I thought Linda had a point, so I let it slide. As for the male cat? He got bullied out of the territory. The remaining female didn’t last long either; she was chased off by a scarred, aggressive tabby a few weeks later. I didn’t think much of it until a few days later, when Harper came home claiming she’d been “touched.” “I was trying to get off the bus,” she sobbed, “and the driver blocked the aisle. He said unless I let him touch my… you know… he wouldn’t open the door. I was so scared.” She added that four other girls on the bus had seen it. They’d been touched too. This was serious. I immediately contacted the other parents. Once we confirmed their stories aligned, we marched straight to the precinct. Because the victims were minors, the police moved fast. Within an hour, they had the driver in custody. His name was Caleb Vance. A veteran, high school education, unmarried, living with his elderly mother. When the police brought Caleb in, the parents lost it. It turned into a brawl. Linda even swung her heavy Louis Vuitton bag at Caleb’s head, snapping the strap as she struck him. But under interrogation, Caleb screamed that he was innocent. He swore on his life he never touched those girls. He dropped to his knees in the interrogation room, sobbing until he hyperventilated. “My mother is bedridden. She’s dying. I’m the only one she has. Please, you can’t do this to me…” 1 I’ve always prided myself on being a good judge of character. Caleb Vance didn’t fit the profile. In all the years Harper had ridden his bus, he was never late, never rude. It was hard to reconcile that man with a child predator. I decided to press Harper for details. “Honey, I need you to be brave. Were you the first one he touched? Who was in front of you? Who was behind you?” Simple questions. But Harper stammered. She couldn’t keep the sequence straight. “Harper,” I lowered my voice. “Look at me. Did Caleb actually touch you?” She burst into tears. Linda was furious. She shoved me out of the room, accusing me of betraying our daughter. “We are her parents! We are supposed to be on her side, no matter what!” Linda screamed. “Who cares if Caleb is innocent? That’s for the cops to figure out. Worst case scenario? We apologize. Big deal.” I was speechless, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. The legal system is designed to find the truth. They wouldn’t convict an innocent man. The police pulled the bus surveillance and GPS. Caleb had followed his route perfectly. Unless he could grope a child while driving a forty-foot vehicle with both hands on the wheel, the timeline didn’t make sense. However, forensics found trace DNA on the girls’ clothes. No fingerprints, just contact transfer. It wasn’t definitive proof of assault, but it didn’t rule out contact. The police released a statement: “No direct evidence of molestation found.” The parents went nuclear. They flooded the Mayor’s office with calls, accusing the police of laziness and incompetence. Hours later, the statement changed: “Cannot rule out the suspect’s involvement.” Same meaning, different framing. But that was enough for the District Attorney. They pressed charges. Given the number of alleged victims, the DA pushed for the maximum. Seven years. At the trial, Caleb’s defense called two witnesses. First was his former Platoon Sergeant. He testified that Caleb was a model soldier in Afghanistan, decorated for bravery. “A man like that doesn’t hurt kids,” he said. The second was Caleb’s mother, Martha. The frail old woman wept on the stand. “He never married because he takes care of me and my medical bills. He is a good son. He would never do this.” But character witnesses aren’t factual evidence. Only God knew what happened on that bus. The jury found Caleb guilty. He was sentenced to five years. Caleb screamed he would appeal. The parents complained the sentence was too light. 2 A few days later, an old woman blocked my path at the grocery store. It was Martha Vance. Her hands shook as she tried to shove an envelope into my jacket pocket. Inside was five thousand dollars—mostly in small bills—and a box of homemade cookies. She begged me. She pleaded for me to help her son avoid prison. I knew Caleb made less than four grand a month. This envelope was likely Martha’s life savings. I gently pushed it back. “Mrs. Vance, I can’t help you. The verdict is in. Even if I wrote a letter of forgiveness now, it would only help with parole hearings later. He’s going to prison.” Martha shook her head frantically. She didn’t want a letter. She wanted Harper to recant. “My son didn’t touch your girl. Please, you have to believe me! It’s because…” She stopped, her face twisting in pain, as if she were swallowing a secret that burned her throat. I was losing patience. “Use this money for a better appeal lawyer, ma’am. That’s the best way to help Caleb.” Maybe my advice worked. A week later, I received a notice. Caleb had a new attorney for his appeal. They were going for full exoneration. The lawyer added a note: “If we win, we will be countersuing for defamation and malicious prosecution. As her guardian, you will be held liable.” I chuckled. I’m a lawyer too. That was just posturing. But the other parents panicked. The group chat exploded. They tagged me relentlessly: What do we do? Can we lose our houses? I told them the truth: “Overturning a conviction on appeal is incredibly hard. They must have found new evidence.” My honesty terrified them. Weeks later, a hashtag started trending: #JusticeForOurGirls. I clicked the video. It was a montage of Harper and the four other girls, looking innocent and tearful, set to sad piano music. Then, a jump cut to a photo of Caleb, greasy and dirty, changing oil under the bus. The contrast was manipulative and effective. The comments section was a cesspool. “Monster.” “Animal.” “He deserves to die.” The case went national. Other parents in the district started panicking, wondering if Caleb had touched their daughters too over the last decade. My colleagues, my friends—everyone offered their “sympathy.” It was humiliating. Bowing to public pressure, the appellate court delayed the hearing indefinitely. But the person who suffered most was Martha. The vigilantes found her address. They threw paint on her door. They mailed her dead rats. Even at the hospital, nurses treated her with cold contempt. Martha couldn’t take it. A month later, she went to the courthouse steps. She doused herself in gasoline and lit a match. Witnesses said that as she burned, she didn’t scream in pain. She just kept yelling, “My son is innocent! Why won’t you believe him?” 3 I was terrified Martha’s suicide would traumatize Harper. I decided to take her to Disney World to get away from the news. She had a blast. But one night, while she was sleeping, her iPad lit up. I usually respect her privacy, but something made me look. The messages were a long thread with her friends. They were trash-talking me. Harper complained I was cheap, that I checked coupons at restaurants, that she wished she had a rich, famous dad. Then, a friend text: “Why don’t you just send your dad to jail too?” Harper replied: “Can’t. I need him to pay for college. Maybe later.” My blood ran cold. I shook her awake. “Harper! Did Caleb touch you? Tell me the truth!” She tried to lie, but Linda wasn’t there to coach her. Under pressure, the truth spilled out. Caleb never touched her. He never touched anyone. The reason? The bus route passed our apartment complex, but the designated stop was two blocks away. Harper wanted to get off early. Caleb refused because of insurance regulations. That was it. That was the motive. The other four girls? Harper’s clique. They didn’t like Caleb because he was strict and, in their words, “fat and gross.” Harper tugged at my pajama pants, tears streaming down her face. “I just wanted to get him fired, Daddy. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, okay?” The banality of her evil left me paralyzed. She didn’t understand the gravity of what she’d done. She thought an apology fixed everything. We flew home the next morning. I told Linda everything. Linda’s reaction was to hush me. “Bury it,” she whispered. “Take this to the grave.” “Martha is dead, Robert! Even if Caleb gets out, he won’t thank us. He’ll hate us. He might come after us.” She argued that the best outcome was for Caleb to die in prison. “The other girls won’t talk if Harper doesn’t.” But what if he didn’t die? Five years is a long time to nurse a grudge. 4 I couldn’t live with it. The only way to mitigate Caleb’s potential rage was to give him his life back. I tried to get the other parents to come forward. They refused. They were terrified of the liability and the social stigma. So, I took over Caleb’s defense myself. I met him in the visitor’s center. He looked like a skeleton. His eyes, once kind, were now hollow pits of darkness. I apologized. He scoffed. But when I told him I could clear his name, he listened. He told me his plan. When he got out, he would bury his mother properly. Then he’d buy a small truck and haul cargo cross-country. He just wanted to leave this town and never come back. I felt a wave of relief. Prison hadn’t destroyed his humanity yet. I prepped Harper. “It’s never too late to do the right thing,” I told her. “Tell the truth in court. I will protect you.” She nodded, promising she wouldn’t lie again. The appeal hearing arrived. I put Harper on the stand. The Prosecutor asked, “Did Caleb Vance touch you?” Harper looked at the jury, then at me. “Yes,” she said clearly. The courtroom gasped. I froze. “Then why does your father claim you lied?” the Prosecutor asked. “Because…” Harper sniffled, “My dad is old-fashioned. To him, my… purity… is more important than my safety. He didn’t want a ‘damaged’ daughter. He tried to make me change my story.” I stood up, mouth open, but no sound came out. Harper stepped down and walked into Linda’s arms. They left without looking at me. The appeal was denied. The light in Caleb’s eyes finally went out. I went home and screamed at Linda. She called me a fool. “Women lie to survive, Robert. It’s nature. I’m proud of her.” She filed for divorce the next week. Harper changed her social media bio: “Men really are trash.”

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When Caleb brought me breakfast, he discovered a man hiding in my apartment. He was shocked. Then, he was furious. He pointed a shaking finger at Hayes’s nose and shouted, “You shameless homewrecker!” Hayes looked at him with utter disdain. “Kid, I knew her before you were even born.” Caleb looked even more horrified. He turned to me. “Wait… so, am I the side piece?” Hayes smirked. “No. You’re number four. Get in line.” 1 I woke up to see Hayes standing by my bed, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants and my floral apron. I thought I was still dreaming. Until he reached out, touched my forehead, and asked in that cold, crisp voice of his: “Still hungover?” I jolted awake like I’d been electrocuted. “Why are you in my house?” “I made oatmeal…” We spoke at the same time, then fell silent at the same time. Thankfully, a knock at the door broke the suffocating awkwardness. “I’ll get it.” I grabbed a trench coat, threw it over my silk nightgown, and fled the bedroom. The person at the door was Caleb, a junior colleague from work. I was surprised. Caleb’s face was glowing with youthful energy. He was holding a bag of warm comfort food. “Morning, Nora! I brought coffee and those bagels you like from the corner deli.” But his smile vanished the second he looked past me and saw Hayes. Hayes, being the psychopath he is, had taken off the hoodie he was wearing under the apron. Now, the floral fabric barely covered his broad, muscular chest. The apron cinched at his waist, emphasizing his V-taper. Below that, grey sweatpants. It was a look that screamed “we just had sex.” Shocked and angry, Caleb covered my eyes with his hand and yelled at Hayes. “Who are you?” “Don’t you know Nora has a boyfriend?” “What is this behavior? Put some clothes on!” The more he spoke, the angrier he got. But his voice was trembling. It went from rage to grievance, and finally, to choking back tears. I tried to explain. “Caleb, it’s not what it looks like.” Nobody was listening to me. Caleb was pointing at Hayes, cursing him out. calling him a “shameless homewrecker.” Hayes didn’t say a word. He glanced at the bagels in Caleb’s hand, then calmly grabbed my wrist and sat me down at the dining table. “The oatmeal cooled down. Eat.” Caleb stormed over, snatched the bowl of oatmeal away, and laid out the bagels he brought. That was when Hayes finally looked annoyed. Caleb pointed at the door. “I’ll take care of Nora. You—whoever you are—get the hell out.” He was acting like the man of the house. Hayes just let out a cold laugh. “I knew her before you were even born.” I tried to de-escalate. “Caleb, he and I… we aren’t in a relationship like that.” But Caleb, immersed in his own heartbreak, had his own logic. He looked at Hayes. Then at me. Then back at Hayes. “So… am I the side piece?” “No,” I said quickly. Hayes threw gasoline on the fire. “You’re the side piece’s understudy. Number four.” The apartment was chaos. Caleb looked at me, his expression shattering. He looked like a kicked puppy. I glared at Hayes. “Since when is he number four?” I tried to remember last night. I remembered getting drunk, calling Hayes, and him telling me to stay put. Before that… Caleb had confessed his feelings to me. But I vividly remembered rejecting him. I asked Hayes, “What exactly happened last night?” While Caleb was zoning out in shock, Hayes swept all the bagels into the trash can. Then he answered casually: “After you passed out, this kid texted you a confession. I thought he seemed sincere, so I accepted on your behalf.” Hayes cleaned the table as he spoke. Then he looked up at me, a bitter smile on his lips. “Since you already have a side piece, I figured one more wouldn’t hurt. I’m not the jealous type.” I rolled my eyes. “Generous of you.” Caleb seemed to reboot. His righteous indignation was gone. He looked at Hayes, his voice small. “If I’m number four… does that make you the boyfriend?” That question hit a nerve. Hayes paused for two seconds. “No,” he said darkly. “I’m the mistress.” 2 I fell silent. Technically, Hayes and I were in a shady, secret arrangement. But hearing it said out loud in front of an outsider made me want to crawl under the floorboards. Thankfully, Caleb was too traumatized to ask follow-up questions. He left shortly after. Hayes scooped a fresh bowl of oatmeal and slammed it in front of me. Seeing me stare at the door, he sneered. “Miss him?” “Want me to run down the hall and get him back for you?” The acid in his tone could burn through steel. He was mocking me, but mostly, he was hurting himself. As I ate quietly, Hayes finally snapped. He tore off the mask of indifference. “That kid really likes you. Why haven’t you mentioned him?” “He calls you ‘Nora’ so casually. Did you know him in college?” “How much younger is he? You’re into interns now?” I didn’t respond. Hayes looked like he was about to lose his mind. He pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. Silence. Then: “You think I’m too old?” “I’m five years older than you… that’s not exactly geriatric, Nora.” “But I guess fresh meat is appealing.” I rubbed my temples. “Can you stop making a scene?” Hayes opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “Brother, please.” I said it out of habit. It meant nothing. But Hayes stood up so fast his chair screeched across the floor. He stared at me, eyes dark. “You haven’t called me ‘Brother’ in years. Why now?” ” trying to break up with me?” Terrified that I might say yes, Hayes grabbed his clothes and fled the apartment before I could explain. I stared at the closed door. I thought about what he told Caleb: I knew her before you were born. It was true. Caleb is two years younger than me. The year he was born was the year my mother married Hayes’s father. I was two. Hayes was seven. Hayes hated my mother. At his seventh birthday party, he swore he’d kick us both out of the Sterling estate. My mother would smile and say, “He’s just a child, I don’t mind.” In private, she ground her teeth so hard I thought they’d crack. She was desperate to have a son to replace Hayes as the heir. I did whatever my mother told me. She told me to suck up to Hayes, so I did. Even when he bullied me, even when he pranked me, I chased him around calling him “Big Brother.” It didn’t work. The year he hated me most, he locked me in the basement while our parents were away. Two days. No food. I almost died. Mr. Sterling couldn’t ignore it anymore. He forced Hayes to apologize and demanded he treat me like a biological sister. What did Hayes say back then? He said: “I would rather die than like her.” But years later… The man who begged me. The man who willingly became my dirty little secret just to stay near me. It was him. 3 The next day at work, Caleb cornered me in the breakroom. He’s the CEO’s son. We went to the same university. Now that he’s graduated, his dad put him under my wing. I tried to explain the previous morning. “You know I was drunk. That wasn’t me accepting your confession on WeChat.” Caleb nodded. “I know.” I sighed, relieved. I thought the drama was over. Then he said: “But we can just go with it.” He looked deadly serious. “Nora, I’ve thought about it.” “If I can be with you, I don’t mind being number four.” “You’re amazing. It’s normal for guys to chase you.” “I don’t care about the other guys. I believe if I work hard, I’ll get promoted to boyfriend eventually.” “I haven’t met the others, but the guy at your apartment… he seemed old.” “You’re young, beautiful. Can an old man like that keep up with you?” “Why don’t you dump him and let me be the mistress?” Caleb scratched his head. “Being the ‘mistress’ sounds cooler than being ‘number four’.” Just then, the breakroom door swung open. Hayes walked in, face like a thundercloud. “Who are you calling an old man?” Hayes’s company had a contract with ours. He was here for a meeting with the CEO. He just happened to walk in on Caleb badmouthing him. “Did you forget who got you into that college prep school, kid?” “If it weren’t for my recommendation letter, you wouldn’t even be qualified to be number four.” Usually, Hayes wouldn’t stoop to arguing with a fresh grad. But the word “old” was his trigger word this week. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Is that how your daddy taught you business?” Caleb didn’t flinch. He looked Hayes dead in the eye and scoffed. Knowing Hayes was just a “side piece” gave Caleb confidence. “We’re competitors now.” “I’m just marketing my advantages to Nora.” “I wasn’t wrong,” Caleb looked Hayes up and down. “You are older than me.” “Who is the boyfriend and who is the side piece… that’s Nora’s decision.” “If she prefers youth and dumps you for me, that’s just natural selection, isn’t it?” Every “old” was a dagger in Hayes’s heart. He laughed, a cold, sharp sound. He pulled out his phone and dialed the CEO’s office. Minutes later, Caleb was summoned by his father. As he left, Caleb gritted his teeth and whispered, “Old fossil. Plays dirty.” Hayes closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked calmer. “It’s Dad’s birthday. Are you going back to the estate?” I nodded. “I have to.” My mother had called three times to remind me. “Okay. I’ll wait for you downstairs.” The elevator ride down was silent. Hayes was regretting everything. Accepting Caleb’s confession on my phone had been a strategic error. He did it because my actual boyfriend—the love of my life—was returning to the country this week. Hayes knew he couldn’t compete with Dr. Ethan Cole. So, he tried to throw a wrench in the gears by adding Caleb to the mix. He figured Caleb was a harmless distraction. He thought, I can’t beat Ethan, but I can definitely beat this college kid. Now, he realized he’d just played himself. He didn’t hurt Ethan. He just annoyed himself to death. Hayes sat in the car, unlit cigarette in his mouth. He needed the nicotine, but he wouldn’t light it. I was getting in the car. And I hate the smell of smoke.

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