Chapter 1 I had a secret crush on Cameron Brooks for three years. After he saw my post on the campus confession wall asking for a boyfriend, he suddenly DMed me. Cameron: [Image] Did you post this? I replied coyly: Yep~ Cameron: My roommate is interested in you. Would you consider him? …Damn. What was I stupidly hoping for? This was Cameron Brooks! We hadn’t spoken in years. The fact that he even dug up my contact info was a miracle. Me: Does your roommate meet my criteria? Over 6 feet, handsome with abs, sunny smile, and good moral character? Cameron: …Your standards are pretty high. Me: Just tell me if he fits or not. Cameron: He fits. Great! Me: Tell him to add me. Right now! Immediately! Also, ask him where he wants to buy a house in the school district! Cameron: … Cameron: He says he’s a bit shy. How about this? I’ll set it up, and we can all grab dinner together? Chapter 2 Cameron said he’d bring his roommate to treat me to dinner. I was in a daze. I was actually going to meet Cameron Brooks. Counting on my fingers, we hadn’t seen each other since high school graduation. Even though we got into the same university, he was a busy guy. I usually only saw him in the news. Cameron was a snowboarding prodigy. Athletes like him were as rare as pandas, always the center of attention. In high school, I secretly worshipped him for a long time. But he didn’t know, and I didn’t dare tell him. It was my secret. Approaching the restaurant, I saw Cameron from a distance. He was wearing black, standing under a dim streetlamp, long legs, looking calm and composed. Standing in front of him was a girl with flushed cheeks. “Cameron, I’ve watched every single one of your competitions. I never thought I’d run into you near campus today. This must be fate…” Full of passion and excitement, after setting the stage, she finally said, “Cameron, I like you.” The air went silent for a second. From my angle, I could only see Cameron’s neck, pale against his black jacket and dark hair. A breeze blew past, and Cameron spoke. “I’m not interested in you.” Probably not expecting such a direct rejection, the girl’s face turned pale. She stammered an apology and ran off. Only the cold tone of his voice remained in my ears. I started to get cold feet. Cameron’s demeanor made me feel that using his roommate as an excuse to see him was a ridiculous decision. It had been too long. I almost forgot he was always popular with girls. Other people’s affection always seemed to carry little weight with him, and he didn’t care. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go to the dinner. I quietly retreated, thinking I’d send him a text later saying something came up. But I hadn’t taken a few steps when someone grabbed my arm. That voice, cool and familiar after so many years, sounded from above my head. Cameron was holding onto me. “Sarah, I’m right here. Where are you going?” Chapter 3 I was dragged into the restaurant by Cameron. It was just the two of us. I asked him, “Where’s your roommate? Why are you alone?” His eyelashes were long, and he looked nonchalant. “His professor needed him for something. He couldn’t make it. Next time.” …This sounded suspiciously like the excuse I was just about to use. I muttered, “That’s unfortunate.” Cameron heard me and asked, “Are you disappointed?” “No… I just thought this was a blind date.” Cameron chuckled low. “Something like that.” Me: ?? When he smiled, he looked really good. It diluted the aloofness and added a bit of youthful spirit. Before I could dwell on the meaning of his words, a menu was pushed in front of me. Waiting for the food was a bit awkward, so I found a topic. “You’re back at school recently. Are there no competitions?” Cameron: “Yeah, back to prep for the English proficiency exam.” “Do athletes need to pass that too?” “Peace of mind. What about you? Did you pass?” “Passed last semester.” “What score?” “Over 600.” Just then, my phone lit up. The girls in my dorm group chat were going crazy. “Sarah, how’s it going? Is it going well?” “Is he hot? Send a pic!” “I don’t care about ‘180cm with abs’, I just want to see Cameron Brooks QAQ!” Taking a photo was obviously impossible. I secretly replied in the group. “Handsomer than the photos on the bulletin board.” “I mean Cameron.” Then they screamed for a solid minute. Cameron suddenly said, “Over 600, that’s high. I’ve missed a lot of English classes. How about you tutor me for the exam?” “Huh?” I didn’t expect this turn of events. “But I’ve never tutored anyone.” “It’s fine, just teach whatever. You can treat it as a part-time job. I’ll pay you hourly.” Sounded like a good deal. But I couldn’t help probing a little more. “Don’t you have a better candidate? You could ask your girlfriend to help you.” Cameron smiled a half-smile. “Where would I get a girlfriend?” “Oh, you don’t have one…” “I’d like one. Even a fake one would do. It could save me a lot of trouble, like confessions and stuff.” I said, “Then you can recruit a fake girlfriend.” “Recruiting a stranger is too much hassle.” He picked up a new pair of chopsticks and moved the best pieces of meat from the serving dish into my bowl, then suddenly said, “Or, how about you?” I froze. Seeing no reaction, he said, “Just kidding. Old classmate.” I thought so too. He was out here playing matchmaker for his roommate; maybe he was testing me. To prove I wasn’t a fickle woman, I said, “Yeah, that wouldn’t be appropriate.” Cameron’s smile faded. He pursed his lips and didn’t speak again. Chapter 4 I agreed to tutor Cameron, mainly because the hourly rate he offered was way too much cough cough. Him memorizing vocab and doing practice tests didn’t stop me from studying for my advanced exams. But today was unlucky. We hadn’t been sitting in the study hall for long when the Vice President of the Sports Club found us. The VP was basically the campus goddess, an aerobics athlete, great body, great vibe. She saw Cameron first, then me, looking at me with surprise. “Cameron, I’ve been looking for you forever,” she said, walking over with a smile, almost ignoring me. “You’re actually studying here? That’s rare.” Cameron looked up. “What’s up?” “Did you not check your messages?” The VP said familiarly. “I keep telling you, check your phone occasionally, or you’ll miss everything. How many times has this happened? I have to come find you personally for club matters.” Then, as if just noticing me, the VP asked exaggeratedly, “Is this… your girlfriend?” Damn. What does that tone mean? Am I not good enough? I was a little annoyed but kept it polite. “Hi, I’m Cameron’s tutor.” The VP clearly panicked for a second. “T-Tutor? Sorry, my tone just now wasn’t great… wait, Tutor, why are you doing an advanced English practice test?” Soon, the VP saw the name I wrote on the paper: “Sarah Jones, Journalism ’24”. She immediately raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were a real teacher. Turns out you’re just helping with homework.” “What do you actually want?” Cameron interrupted her, already impatient. She finally spread out the flyer in her hand. “Sports Club retreat. I signed you up.” “Not going.” “Why? Everyone is going, just missing you.” “Can’t let it affect my exam prep.” “It’s just one day. You can study when you get back.” “Can’t,” Cameron looked sideways at me. “Ms. Jones is very expensive. Can’t afford to waste time.” Following his words, the VP sized me up again, full of hostility. “Speaking of which, you really need tutoring? I can introduce you to a professional teacher, even get you a discount. Is this student-teaching really effective? Don’t waste money and get no results.” The VP insinuated. Cameron laughed. “Are you serious? With your English grades—I dare to trust a teacher you introduce?” The girl choked. Finally, she steered the topic back to the retreat. “This time we’re going to the beach. I got a BBQ grill, we can roast meat ourselves, it’ll feel very summery. By the way, the girls all brought bikinis. Think about it.” “Not going.” Cameron still refused. “I don’t like looking at the sea.” “Then what do you like—?” Cameron’s expression was indifferent. “I only like snow.” Chapter 5 His words were ambiguous. I almost froze. But I quickly realized, he’s a winter sports athlete, dealt with snow since childhood. He probably didn’t mean anything else. The VP eventually left in defeat. As soon as she left, Cameron asked me, “How did I do just now?” “How did you do what?” “For the sake of studying, I refused entertainment. Shouldn’t you praise me?” He looked at me with smiling eyes, like a big golden retriever wagging its tail asking for a head pat. My heart beat like a drum. Outwardly, I said calmly, “Mm, you’re great.” I don’t know why, but even though it was just a generic compliment, Cameron’s mood improved significantly, and he studied even harder. But I couldn’t calm down. “I only like snow.” This sentence echoed in my mind, lingering. I excused myself to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. When I bent down, I suddenly remembered the first time I saw Cameron. It was freshman year of high school. He was late on the first day. Cutting it close with the bell, the back door of the classroom was pushed open. Cameron rushed in, vaulted over a desk, and landed directly in his seat. I turned around then and saw the wind billow his loose jacket, lifting the hem of his T-shirt slightly, carrying a faint scent of clean soap. He smiled at the homeroom teacher, eyes bright, radiating youthful energy. Even today, thinking of that scene, I still zone out. But I had long warned myself that Cameron was from another world. Don’t fantasize. The secrets of the past must not be discovered by anyone, especially him. To calm myself down, I logged into my secret TikTok account. This account only followed one fitness influencer. He occasionally posted workout videos, never showing his face. His muscles weren’t huge, but just right, not greasy at all. It was my ideal boyfriend body type. I watched and commented: “Hi wifey!” “Wifey, I just realized today your pecs are amazing too!” “Nice butt.” This influencer never replied to me, but it didn’t matter. Commenting was just for fun. After the influencer replaced Cameron and occupied my brain, I returned to the study hall. Cameron finished the paper. I went over it with him. The last item was the essay. I wanted to search for a sample essay online to show this underachieving student. I opened my phone, and the abs video that was paused earlier popped up. At that moment, both Cameron and I froze.

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To save my husband, Ethan Vance, from a fatal fall while he was working on a high-voltage line, I disregarded my own safety and acted as his human cushion. He walked away with a few scratches. I shattered my right arm and suffered severe internal bleeding. Later, pressured by the town’s gossip about how he owed me his life, he reluctantly married me. But Ethan never loved me. One night, in a drunken stupor, I heard his true feelings. “If I had known I’d be shackled to Clara for the rest of my life, I would have been better off dying in that fall!” I felt like I had been plunged into an ice bath. It turned out that for all those years, Ethan never got over his first love, Sarah. He even told our children stories about their “epic romance” behind my back. Even my own kids grew up believing I had trapped their father with a debt of gratitude, ruining his chance at true happiness. They dumped me in a desolate nursing home where I died alone, consumed by depression. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day Ethan climbed that utility pole. This time, I didn’t catch him. Instead, I stood far, far away. In this life, I’ll let him get exactly what he wished for. 1 “Ethan, be careful up there! Double-check your safety gear!” “Yeah, that pole is over thirty feet high. Falling isn’t an option.” “Take your time, don’t rush it!” Ethan was fully geared up, safety belt around his waist, climbing spikes on his boots, slowly ascending the wooden pole. I was jolted awake by the shouting around me. It felt like the fog in my brain suddenly cleared. Villagers surrounded the scene. Without realizing it, I had walked to the base of the utility pole, staring up at Ethan who was already halfway up. My palms were sweating. Seeing this incredibly familiar scene and hearing the familiar warnings… It hit me. I had been reborn! I was back forty years in the past, to the very day I sacrificed my body to be Ethan’s cushion! In my previous life, when Ethan suddenly fell, I didn’t hesitate to break his fall with my own body. With me as his cushion, Ethan only suffered minor scrapes. I suffered internal bleeding and a comminuted fracture of my right arm. It was only because I was rushed to the hospital that I survived. Because of this life-saving act, a huge stir was created in our small town. The neighbors knew Ethan and I grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts, seemingly a match made in heaven. Everyone gossiped, joking that saving a life should be repaid with marriage. Under the pressure of public opinion, Ethan felt forced to marry me. It wasn’t until after the wedding that I learned he didn’t love me at all. On our wedding day, he hid in the power plant office and called Sarah on the landline, crying his heart out. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I can’t marry you in this life. If there is a next life, I will never let you down again.” After marriage, I buried this secret deep in my heart, telling no one. Although I knew he was forced to marry me, I firmly believed that love could grow over time. I didn’t believe that decades of living together wouldn’t melt his heart. For forty years, I took care of every aspect of Ethan’s life. To let him work without worry, I took on all the household burdens, big and small. But it wasn’t until that drunken confession that I woke up from my dream. You can’t warm a stone. He had told our children countless times about his tragic romance with Sarah, never mentioning my sacrifices. This led the children to resent me for using gratitude to trap him, ruining his lifelong love with Sarah. Thinking back, it was absurd and pathetic. My thoughts were interrupted by a shout. “Hey, look! Why is Ethan climbing down?” Chapter 2 Just then, Ethan, who should have been climbing higher, suddenly turned back. In a few moments, he climbed down the pole. Seeing me standing below, he frowned slightly, giving me a look of disgust, and subconsciously distanced himself from me. “Foreman, this gear is old. The strap was about to snap. Good thing I noticed it in time!” Before I could think, the crowd erupted in noise. Ethan pulled the safety rope with both hands, and it snapped. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, clearly shaken. “Good thing I found out early, or I really would have fallen!” As he spoke, he glanced at me with a hint of sarcasm. “And then someone would have gotten a bargain!” My heart skipped a beat. I knew exactly who “someone” was. The irony was suffocating. In my last life, I nearly died saving him. In Ethan’s eyes, that was me “getting a bargain.” It seemed I wasn’t the only one who was reborn. I sneered. “Then you better pray nothing else goes wrong!” I turned to leave, wanting to get away from this toxic place. But Ethan called out, ordering me to stay. Clearly, my retort had startled him. He stared at me with an ugly expression. “Clara, where are you going? We’re not done here. Stand under the pole. In case something goes wrong, you can catch me.” I whipped around, staring at Ethan’s self-righteous face, and let out a cold laugh. Having lived with him for forty years, I knew exactly how his mind worked. In our past life, after the accident, Ethan developed a fear of heights. He quickly transferred to a desk job at the power plant and never touched line work again. Now, he was afraid of another accident. If he fell again, having me there meant having a meat cushion to save him! “With so many people here, what are you afraid of?” “If something happens, plenty of men can help. Or are you expecting a petite girl like me to carry you?” The crowd laughed, urging him to hurry up and restore the power. “Ethan, we’re watching! You’ll be fine. Fix the line, everyone’s waiting to get back to work!” Ethan’s face turned a nasty shade of green. In our forty years together, I had never refused a single request of his. Now, the first time he opened his mouth after rebirth, I mocked him publicly. As a respected electrician in town, Ethan had never been ridiculed like this. He frowned, glaring at me through gritted teeth. “Fine, Clara. If you leave now, don’t ever expect me to give you the time of day again.” I pretended not to hear him and walked away without looking back. He probably couldn’t imagine that right now, I wanted nothing more than to be as far away from him as possible. Seeing me disappear into the crowd, Ethan could only rage impotently. Under the pressure of the crowd, he had to carefully climb the pole again. After leaving, I rushed straight to the town post office. In my previous life, I had successfully passed the college entrance exam. But because I saved Ethan, I was in a coma for seven days and spent weeks in the hospital. By the time I remembered the admission, I rushed to the post office only to be told I had missed the deadline. It was treated as me forfeiting my spot. And the spot had already been filled by someone else. It couldn’t be reversed. I ended up as a temporary worker at the power plant, constantly mocked by Ethan. Meanwhile, Sarah returned from college, quickly gained a foothold in the plant, and was inseparable from Ethan. I knew many people secretly pitied them as a golden couple ruined by a useless weed like me. I argued, I fought, but in the end, Ethan told me with contempt: “If it weren’t for my connections, do you think you could even be a temp here?” “You think you can compare to Sarah? You’re not worthy.” From that day on, I knew Ethan never let go of Sarah. No matter how much I poured my heart out for him. This time, I will fulfill his wish for a lifelong romance with her. Let him have exactly what he wants! Chapter 3 I went to the counter and gave my name to pick up the admission letter. The postmaster praised me enthusiastically. “You’re the only college student from our town this time! You really did us proud!” He practically escorted me out on a pedestal. I was confused. In my previous life, wasn’t Sarah also a college student? How come I was the only one? But I didn’t dwell on it. When I got home and told my parents the good news, my dad was so excited he lit incense for the ancestors. My mom immediately prepared a feast and invited the neighbors in our alley to celebrate. Ethan’s house was in the same alley, less than twenty yards away. When he came back, still in his work clothes, he had a large gash on his hand, dripping blood. My mom saw it and made me go get some styptic herbs and a towel. I really didn’t want to go. But I couldn’t resist my mom’s stern look. She was a doctor and ran a small clinic. She treated all the neighbors’ minor ailments. Reluctantly, I crushed some herbs in a mortar and applied them to Ethan’s hand, wrapping it with the towel. Ethan looked at me with a complicated expression. “I heard you got into college. You got the admission letter?” I didn’t speak, just nodded. But Ethan’s eyes seemed to show a flash of panic and unease. I thought he might have found a conscience and realized my worth, but he immediately raised his voice. “You can’t go! Clara, I order you to give up this opportunity.” I stared at Ethan like he was an idiot for a long time. He must still think we were living in the past life, where I obeyed him for forty years. I looked at him with sarcasm, a cold smile on my lips. “Why can’t I go? I worked hard to get in, why should I give it up?” “Because Sarah has been waiting for this chance for a long time! As long as you give it up, the school will do a supplementary admission, and I can push Sarah into your spot!” In that instant, I froze, trembling with rage. Once again, Ethan’s words cut me to the bone. No wonder I was the only one admitted, yet in my past life, Sarah was the one who returned with a degree. It was him. In my past life, he caused me to lose my chance at college. And I foolishly thought it was an accident, devoting my life to taking care of him. All the emotions I had buried erupted. I was so stupid. I should have realized it sooner. In my past life, with a salary of sixty dollars a month, he brought home less than half. It wasn’t enough to live on. To lighten his burden, I worked as a temp. Only then did I learn that most of Ethan’s money was being sent away. Now it seems most of it was sent to Sarah, who was in college. My voice squeezed through my gritted teeth. “Ethan, in our last life you made me miss college. This time you want me to give it up again? Keep dreaming! I won’t give this chance to anyone!” He glared at me, threateningly. “I am ordering you, not discussing with you. Clara, if you listen, I don’t mind marrying you again in this life.” “But if you insist on fighting me, don’t blame me for disregarding our past marital bond!” I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled. The metallic taste filled my mouth. Forty years of affection meant nothing to him. In his eyes, there was only Sarah! “Don’t worry. In this life, even if I never marry, I won’t marry you!” With that, I turned and walked away. Behind me, Ethan kicked a chair in rage. “Fine! Clara, if you have the guts, don’t ever come crawling back to me!” I returned home with red eyes. My mom immediately knew I had fought with Ethan. “Clara, don’t cry. Did you fight with Ethan? Listen to mom, if you want to marry him, you have to tolerate his temper.” “No. I will never marry Ethan in this life. Once I go to college, there will be plenty of men better than him!” In my past life, I was trapped by Ethan until death. In this life, I won’t make the same mistake.

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In my past life, my mother was obsessed with competing against me. When my grandmother gave me a vintage diamond bracelet, Mom snatched it away, her eyes red with envy. “You think a useless thing like you deserves to wear something this expensive?” When my boyfriend sent me flowers for Valentine’s Day, she gritted her teeth in anger, yet feigned indifference. “He only sent those because you’re my daughter. If I were a few years younger, do you think he’d even look at you?” Later, she actually crawled into my boyfriend’s bed, stark naked. After the scandal broke, she begged me not to tell my father. Soft-hearted as I was, I agreed. Her repayment? During a family trip to a national park, she shoved me off a cliff. Before I hit the bottom, I saw her face, twisted with a euphoric, sick joy. “You have all this only because you came out of me! Why should you have a better life than mine? I should have never given birth to you!” When I opened my eyes again, it was the summer after high school graduation. Mom, this time, I won’t be the silent victim. I’m going to be the loudspeaker broadcasting your desperate need for attention to the world. Chapter 1 When I was seven, I stared longingly at a matching mother-daughter outfit in a shop window. I tugged at the hem of her skirt, pointing. She looked down at me with pure disgust. “What? You just want to wear that so you can outshine me and get your dad to praise you, right?” When I was fourteen, Dad was away on a business trip. I cooked a table full of dishes for her while she was out shopping, craving just a single smile or a word of praise. Instead, she flipped the table in a rage, screaming, “You wasteful brat! I worked hard to birth you and raise you! I quit my job for you! What is the use of cooking all this? Who are you trying to impress?!” I thought I would eventually wake up. I thought I would stop begging for her warmth. When I was eighteen, I got into college. My grandparents gave me a high-quality jade bangle. She made snide remarks, dripping with jealousy, until I took it off with both hands and offered it to her. Only when it was on her wrist did she finally calm down. Later, in college, I found a boyfriend who truly loved me. When I excitedly shared my happiness with my family, she waited until Dad wasn’t looking, went into my room, put on my clothes, and posed in front of the mirror. She sneered, “If I were a few years younger, there’s no way he’d pick you.” In the end, she climbed into my boyfriend’s bed naked. When he screamed in terror and fled, she cried snot and tears, begging me not to tell Dad. I softened again. The price of my mercy was my heartbeat stopping forever in a nameless valley. Chapter 2 The moment I opened my eyes, I could still feel the phantom pain of rocks shattering the back of my skull, and the shock and resentment filling my chest. When my vision cleared, I found myself squatting in the laundry room, facing a plastic basin piled high with socks that had turned gray from wear. It was the summer I graduated high school. My dad, David, walked by in his undershirt, holding a bowl of fruit he intended to wash. He poked his head in, grinning at me with a look of relief. “Looks like our Harper is growing up. Not a lazy girl anymore.” Before I could speak, my mother, Crystal, sniffed her way over like a bloodhound. She was wearing tight skinny jeans and pink fuzzy slides with rhinestones on the toes. In her hand, she held a tub of Ben & Jerry’s she’d just pulled from the freezer. She looked me up and down and let out a dismissive tsk. “Not lazy? If she wasn’t lazy, would she let the socks pile up until they’re this filthy before washing them?” Dad looked awkward, wanting to say something but stopping himself. As if smelling something foul, Mom covered her nose in exaggerated disgust and took a giant step back, dragging Dad with her. “Harper, how long have you been wearing these? Your feet stink. You didn’t inherit a single good thing from me. Dark skin, skinny as a rail, and now foot odor?” I stood up, grabbed a towel to dry my hands, and gave my parents a wide, bright smile. “Mom, you forgot? You took all the clean socks from my drawer because yours were dirty. You only stuffed them back into my laundry hamper after you wore them.” “I can’t just let them sit there rotting, right?” The silence that followed was terrifying. Mom’s face turned green. The hand covering her nose hovered awkwardly in the air. I didn’t care about them. I walked right past them, went to my room, and locked the door. Half an hour later, Dad texted me on WeChat: Harper, you can’t be so blunt. It was too hurtful. She’s still your mother. She’s been crying on the sofa for thirty minutes. Come out and apologize. I sneered and closed the chat. She is my mother, biologically. But if she actually treated me like a daughter, she wouldn’t have pushed me off a cliff in my last life. As for her crying? It wasn’t because I hurt her heart. It was because the perfect image she meticulously curated for her husband had just been ripped open, exposing the ugly truth underneath. She was just humiliated. Chapter 3 My dad is an only child. My grandparents are both retired teachers who live in the same gated community as us. To celebrate my acceptance into the State University, the elderly couple prepared a huge feast at their home and invited us over. On the way downstairs, Mom wore sunglasses and refused to talk to me, probably still salty about the sock incident. But she hummed a tune, acting like she was in a great mood. When a neighbor asked why she looked so happy, she lowered her sunglasses and put on a fake, coy act. “Oh, my daughter isn’t very ambitious. She only got into the local State U. Her grandparents wouldn’t even book a hotel for her graduation party.” “It really boils down to her own lack of effort. Back when David and I got married, we had the best hotel in the city. The dress, the gold jewelry… nothing compares to that nowadays.” “It’s useless for my in-laws to value her. She’s just dead weight.” Speaking of this, Mom covered her mouth and giggled, trembling like a flower in the wind. I couldn’t be bothered to respond. Her breakdown was scheduled for later. We arrived at the other building. Grandma was already waiting downstairs, beaming. Seeing me, she pulled me into a hug, patted my shoulder, and said, “Our Harper is so capable! State U is a great school!” She guided me upstairs, completely ignoring the woman behind us. Entering the apartment, I realized it wasn’t just my grandparents. The living room was full of people—men and women, young and middle-aged, all well-dressed, surrounding my grandfather. As I walked in, people stood up to greet me, handing me gifts one after another. Under Grandma’s guidance, I thanked them and chatted. I learned these were all Granddad’s former students, invited specifically for my graduation party. When Mom walked in and saw the crowd, she froze. Then, seeing the pile of gifts in my arms, that familiar jealous glint flickered in her eyes. I knew that look too well. When the guests learned who she was, they offered polite, distant greetings. Mom, oblivious to the atmosphere, sat down loudly and started acting overly familiar with the people around her. The topic, of course, was me. Specifically, how “shocking” it was that someone who ranked last in middle school could get into college. How I was wasteful and argumentative at home but acted so obedient in public. I saw the guests’ expressions turning sour. They didn’t know how to respond. Suddenly, Mom dropped a bomb. “Harper, are your grades even real? You didn’t cheat, did you?” Silence. Dead silence. She was absolutely the first person to question her own daughter’s integrity at her graduation party. Grandpa cleared his throat, interrupting her. “It’s late. Everyone, please take a seat.” Mom tried to sit next to me, but Grandma said coldly, “Harper sits between me and her grandfather today. Crystal, you don’t have a problem with that, do you?” She wouldn’t dare. If Grandma told her the sky was green, she’d agree. The atmosphere at the table warmed up. Everyone was smiling except Mom. They encouraged me to broaden my horizons in college. Around 7:30, Dad rushed in, dusty from work. Shortly after he sat down, Grandma brought out an exquisite velvet box from the back room. She opened it in front of everyone. Inside was a translucent, high-quality jade bangle. Tears welled up in the old couple’s eyes. “Harper, going to college is a big step. This is our gift to you. We hope your life is smooth and peaceful.” Grandma took my hand, about to slide the bangle onto my wrist. That’s when the accident happened. Mom rushed over, eyes red with rage, and snatched the bangle from Grandma’s hand. Her voice was shrill. “Mom! She’s just a money-losing burden! Why does she deserve to wear something this expensive?!” The room erupted in gasps. Dad was the first to react. His face darkened. He patted Mom’s shoulder, whispering her name, signaling her to calm down. Mom shook off his hand and screamed, “Did I say anything wrong, David? I carried on the family line for the Zhangs! Even if I only birthed this useless thing, I still have merit!” “Are you just going to let your parents stomp on my dignity like this?!” The guests looked at each other, silent and awkward. In my past life, under such a grand display of madness, I would have buried my head in the sand, apologizing in a whisper, tugging at her shirt. Grandparents, seeing me like that, couldn’t help me even if they wanted to. And back then, I would have handed the gift to her when we got home just to make her stop. But I was back now. Dad frowned and looked at me pleadingly, hoping I would smooth things over. I feigned helplessness and grabbed Grandma’s hand. “Mom,” I said, my voice trembling but clear. “You already melted down all the silver bracelets and necklaces Grandma gave me over the last seventeen years to make new jewelry for yourself. But can you please not take this one? I really like it…” “This is a graduation gift… the meaning is different…” My voice faded at the end, sounding lacking in confidence. A crazy mother, a passive father, and a broken daughter. Everyone here was smart. They could see exactly what was happening. Crash! A loud noise made Mom jump. Her lips quivered. Grandpa had smashed a bowl. The shards flew everywhere. I flinched, but a warm hand squeezed mine. Grandma looked at me reassuringly. “Harper,” Grandpa said, his face like thunder. “Did you say your mother took seventeen years of gifts we gave you and melted them down for herself?” I nodded timidly. “Mom said my skin is too dark… that silver makes me look tacky. So she took them…” Whispers broke out among the guests. Hearing the commotion, Mom shrieked. “Dad! How can you listen to a child’s nonsense? How could I take her things? I’m keeping them safe for her!” “Kids shouldn’t be so flashy!” Grandma sneered at Mom’s stiff smile. “In that case, go home right now and bring back everything we gave Harper.” Mom lost the ability to argue but refused to give up. The guests, realizing this was a family crisis, tactfully found excuses to leave. Once the room cleared, Mom ignored Dad’s warning glares and doubled down. “Mom, Dad, let’s be real. I’ve been married into this family for years. I raised Harper. She’s a child. Isn’t what’s hers mine?” Chapter 4 Hearing this, I sneered internally. Right. Because she gave birth to me. Everything I own must be hers. Any success I have is because of her. I should live in her shadow while she whispers in my ear under the guise of love, magnifying my flaws to highlight her own superiority. But Mom, I should be your daughter, not your competing product. Dad, the invisible man, looked terrible. In our small home, he was the king who could indulge his wife’s tantrums and force me to compromise. But here? He was the son. In this atmosphere, he wished he could disappear. Grandma’s eyes were cold, shining with disappointment. “I don’t care how you acted before. But this is a gift from us to our granddaughter.” “A thief in the family is still a thief.” “If I ever see anything belonging to Harper on you again, you don’t need to step through this door anymore.” Mom’s face turned from green to red. She grabbed her sunglasses, stomped her foot in resentment, let out a “Hmph!”, and stormed off unwillingly. Since my rebirth, I had confronted my mother head-on twice, tearing off her mask in front of Dad and my grandparents. For the rest of the summer, I treated her like air. Dad sighed constantly, hinting that I should apologize. Hilarious. Who complains about peace and quiet? Just like that, I coasted until college started. College life was rich, and so was my mom’s social media. I often heard my roommate laughing at night. “Look at the video I tagged you in. Is this auntie crazy? She posted a photo of her daughter’s back but photoshopped gray hair onto her. Then she posted a heavily filtered selfie of herself with a chin sharp enough to stab someone, asking netizens to guess who is the mom and who is the daughter.” I clicked the tag. The video featured me and my mom. Thankfully, there was no clear shot of my face. I exhaled. Dignity partially saved. My roommate on the bottom bunk had a sharp tongue. She typed furiously. A moment later, I saw her comment: “The one with the gray hair photoshop is the mom. The auntie with the heavy filter is the daughter.” We all laughed until our stomachs hurt. Two months into the semester, I was studying in the library. A note slid in front of me. I followed the long fingers up to a familiar face. Liam. My boyfriend from my past life. I smiled, took the note, and added his contact info under the teasing gazes of my roommates. At that moment, a message from Dad popped up. Harper, you’ve been cold to Mom for so long. She can’t bring herself to apologize, but she misses you terribly. When are you coming home? I thought for a moment and typed: Next month. A month was enough time to do many things. Like fall in love. My mom missed me? The thought sent a chill from my feet to my skull. My roommate nudged me, showing her phone. It was another video from Mom. She had been roasted badly on the last one, so she was pivoting to a “loving mother” persona. Using the same video, the caption read: My little padded jacket, Mom misses you so much. Don’t stay away just because Mom said a few harsh words. A netizen commented: “The auntie who looks like the daughter doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with the daughter who looks like the mom.” Mom replied instantly: “My daughter is coming back to see me next month.” So that’s why she was in a rush. The delicate wife persona wasn’t enough; she needed her prop back to spoil her. But this time, she wouldn’t get what she wanted.

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Since we were kids, I knew my sister was destined to be the tragic heroine of a melodrama. To protect her, I switched our fates. She went to the top public magnet school, while I entered the prestigious private academy as a scholarship student. She grew up to be a brilliant biopharmaceutical scientist. I, on the other hand, endured years of humiliation, suffered through seven abortions, and held the empty title of a billionaire heir’s wife. When my sister found out, instead of being grateful, she returned to the male lead’s side as his “white moonlight”—his first love. She manipulated him into drowning me in the lake. Reborn into a new life, I somehow became the male lead’s “white moonlight” this time around. Just as I thought I had mistakenly picked up the heroine’s script, I realized something terrifying. My sister was reborn too. So, how did she, the original “white moonlight” heroine of the last life, actually die? Chapter 1 Reborn back to when we were twelve, Mom and Dad looked at me with troubled faces. “Luna, you’re the older sister. Why don’t you give the scholarship spot at Elite Academy to Lily?” In my past life, I had cried and screamed, demanding to go to the private school. Helpless, my parents sent my sister, Lily, to the public magnet school. This time, I nodded without hesitation, my heart full of joy. “Okay! Let her go! I want to go to the public magnet school!” Actually, it wasn’t just this once. At every juncture where my sister was supposed to meet the male lead, I had intervened. Without meeting him, my sister’s academic and professional career soared. But no one understood my intentions. Everyone said I was jealous of my sister, that her success was purely due to her own efforts. My parents sighed in relief. After I left the room, I heard them whispering. “We really need to invest heavily in Lily this time. She’s the real heroine! We can’t make the same mistake as last time, thinking Luna was the main character. We got nothing out of it, just trouble!” Invest heavily? Where would a working-class family get that kind of money? That reminded me. In my last life, shortly after I entered the private academy, my parents won fifty thousand dollars in the lottery. It was through insider info from the male lead, Archer Vance, that I told them to invest in real estate instead of spending it. That was how our family climbed out of poverty and into the middle class. Just then, my sister looked at me with crossed arms and a mocking smirk. “Go ahead to public school then. Go compete with those nerds until you drop. Enjoy the cold showers in the dorms during winter!” “What’s mine will eventually be mine. No one can take it away!” Suddenly, I understood. It wasn’t just me. My whole family had been reborn. Interesting. Then keep dreaming your billionaire dreams. Go enjoy the backstabbing, the physical and mental torment of high society life. I’ll gladly bear the “hardship” of studying in peace. Our house was far from the schools. I wanted to spend more time studying. Knowing my parents had already won the lottery, I asked to live on campus. But they roared in anger. “Dorm fees are five hundred a semester! That’s expensive! You have no idea how hard your father and I work for money!” Just then, my sister came home from Elite Academy, carrying several large bags of snacks and toys. My parents beamed, patting her head and praising her potential, while simultaneously scolding me. “Look at Lily, so capable! Not only does her scholarship cover everything, but she’s already bringing things home to help the family at such a young age. You, going to that public school, we have to pay for books and now you want dorm money? Useless spendthrift!” Sure enough, even in a new life, my parents’ bias hadn’t changed a bit. Before, when my sister ranked tenth in the school, they bragged to everyone that their daughter was a genius. They never cared that I was now second in the entire school, only five points away from first place. My sister bragged to me about her experiences at Elite Academy and how well Archer treated her. “Even though I’m a scholarship student, he never looks down on me. He always gives me gifts and says I’m the most special girl he’s ever met.” “He said he’s interested in how normal people live and wants to come to our house for dinner tomorrow. Mom, Dad, you need to prepare well!” My parents praised her, promising to cook their best dishes for him. In my last life, this was the turning point. I had sent my sister away so they wouldn’t meet. He secretly took photos of my cramped, cluttered home, which led to me being mocked and bullied at school for three whole years. When I was at my most helpless, he stepped in like a hero. He trapped me in a whirlpool of tenderness that hid a sharp knife. It was only a long, long time later that I learned the truth. Since my whole family was reborn, I wasn’t sure if Archer was too. So I feigned illness, wearing a mask and glasses to prevent him from recognizing me. As soon as he arrived, he instinctively pinched his nose. “Is something rotting? It smells like mold.” My parents’ faces turned black instantly, but they still served the feast they had spent all day preparing. The braised pork meatballs, a dish we only ate during holidays, sat untouched. Archer didn’t take a single bite, yet he offered fake praise. “Mr. and Mrs. Solis, your cooking is amazing. No wonder you raised such a beautiful and talented daughter like Lily!” My parents were ecstatic, bragging everywhere that the Solis family was about to produce a billionaire’s wife, that their good days were coming. They became even more determined to invest in my sister. They actually used the fifty thousand dollars from the lottery to sign Lily up for etiquette classes that cost two thousand a session, five times a week. While my parents ignored me, I had already taken first place in the city-wide joint exams, becoming a priority student for the teachers. One day, a childhood friend who was also a scholarship student at Elite Academy texted me: [Did you know your sister is getting bullied badly by those rich kids? I don’t dare help her. Archer Vance, that billionaire heir, said anyone who helps her is the next target. He told us to keep it quiet…] [Then don’t help. Protect yourself.] My friend was confused: [Don’t you protect your sister the most? Since we were kids, if anyone bullied her, you were always the first to fight back.] That was because my biased parents taught me from a young age that the older sister must protect the younger sister, must yield to her. But if I protect her, who protects me? We are fraternal twins, born only five minutes apart. A month later, my parents looked distressed and proposed selling the house. “Luna, the family is really struggling. We can live in the employee dorms anyway, and your sister lives at school. This house is useless. Plus, your sister’s etiquette classes need money…” I couldn’t believe they had burned through fifty thousand in a month and still wanted to continue. I laughed out of sheer anger. “Ha, what about me? If you sell the house, do I live on the street?” Just then, my sister came home, soaked and covered in bruises. Seeing our parents, she burst into tears and threw herself at them. “Why am I still bullied by rich classmates even when I try so hard? Is it because I’m not elegant enough, not beautiful enough, so Archer won’t help me?” My parents hugged her, comforting her softly. “Lily, don’t be scared. Mommy and Daddy will sell the house right now to sign you up for better classes.” They immediately contacted an agency that trained “debutantes,” boldly claiming they would add dance and vocal lessons costing five thousand a session. These three were insane beyond reason! I couldn’t hold back and shouted, “Enough! Am I not your daughter?! I just want a place to live, is that so hard?!” Mom, seeing my sister weeping in her arms, was heartbroken. She rushed over and slapped me across the face. “Your sister has been bullied like this! And you’re still making a scene!” Suddenly, text comments floated in the air: [Boohoo, poor little Lily, just endure a bit longer. When you’re of age, CEO Archer will come to marry you!] [This older sister is so short-sighted. She doesn’t know our Lily will be the most famous wife in the city’s elite circle!] My sister stopped crying. The three of them stared wide-eyed at the floating text. I silently lowered my head, pretending I saw nothing. Dad waved his hand, making the final decision: “Luna, go live with your uncle! You’re the older sister, stop being so selfish. We are selling this house!” I tried hard to think. To think about how Lily would suffer later, how my parents would be destitute after selling the house. Don’t be angry. Don’t be sad. Don’t cry. But the grievances of being treated unfairly all these years turned into bitterness that filled my heart. I buried my face in my pillow and cried secretly all night before I could breathe again. I couldn’t fight them. I was sent to live with my uncle. My parents stopped caring about me. To earn tuition, I signed up for the city’s biology competition. First prize was five thousand dollars. I never expected to run into Archer at the finals. The moment he saw me, he froze. I knew that expression well. It was the same look he gave Lily the first time he saw her in my past life. Archer grabbed my arm, frowning. “I’ll give you fifty thousand. Give up the first place to me.” I shook him off and turned to run. He blocked my path. “I’ll hire the best biology professors for you. It’s just a title, it’s not that important to you, right?” Seeing him made me sick. “I don’t want your filthy money! If you want first place, beat me with your own skills!” Unsurprisingly, I took first place and the prize money. Thinking back, I actually regretted not taking his fifty thousand. I must have been crazy. But because of that first place, I received an offer from the Junior Class of the nation’s top university. I just needed to finish the high school curriculum in one year and pass the exams to enter the best program. Not long after, Lily’s situation changed drastically. Lily held her head high like an arrogant swan. “Did you know? Now no one in school dares to mess with me. Archer Vance announced to everyone that I am his future fiancée.” My parents couldn’t hide the pride in their eyes, speaking to me as if granting charity. “When your sister marries into a wealthy family, our good days will come. We’ll buy several big houses then, maybe even give you one.” Good days? Days of hell were coming. Five years later, I had completed my undergraduate degree in biology at the top university and was fast-tracked to a Ph.D. program. I was only twenty years old. Five or six years ahead of where Lily was in my past life. I hadn’t contacted my family in a long time. Chatting with my childhood friend, Chloe, I heard rumors about Lily. News that the heir Archer Vance insisted on getting engaged to Lily shocked the elite circle. And it was all because Lily looked seventy percent like Archer’s “white moonlight”—his lost love. “I heard Archer’s white moonlight was a brilliant beauty, totally different from an idiot like Lily who dropped out of high school.” The more I listened, the stranger it sounded. I pressed on: “How did Archer meet this white moonlight?” “Uh, I heard it was at a biology competition…” My heart skipped a beat. In my past life, wasn’t Lily able to return to him because she was the white moonlight? Could it be… in this life, I accidentally took the heroine’s script? No, that’s not right! I suddenly realized. Logically, after I died in the past life, Lily’s “heroine luck” should have returned to her. But she and my parents were reborn around the same time as me. That means, after I died, they died too! If she was the true heroine, how could Archer let her die?! Unless, in this script, both my sister and I must die. I had read a type of tragic novel. The male lead only regrets after the heroine dies. In his remorse over losing his beloved wife, he grows to hate the “white moonlight,” eventually killing her to avenge his wife. If that’s the case, I wasn’t sure if I could fight fate, if I could escape Archer. Or what methods he might use to bind me back to them. How on earth could I escape this destined death… My phone pinged. Lily sent an invitation to her engagement party: [Sister, I genuinely hope you can come.] At the engagement party. My parents, in cheap, wrinkled suits, were stopped by security, looking anxious. “Is there a misunderstanding? We are the in-laws of the Vance family! Why can’t we go in?!” The guard sneered. “Hmph, if I say you can’t enter, you can’t. Those are the master’s specific orders.” Seeing this, I figured they wouldn’t let me in either if I said I was the bride’s family. So I sneaked into the backstage dressing room and found Lily. She was exquisite as a porcelain doll, but the high spirits of the past were gone. Her eyes were empty and lifeless. Lily clutched her stomach, cold sweat pouring down her face. The makeup artist complained while applying powder: “Oh my god, Miss Solis, can’t you sit still? If the powder looks cakey and ugly, and Mr. Vance gets angry, you’re just making trouble for me!” She meekly apologized and swallowed a handful of painkillers. In my past life, at this time, she should have just aborted her third child for Archer. He had needs every night but disliked using protection, yet he refused to let me carry his child. He said a replacement from the slums like me didn’t deserve to bear the Vance heir. Suddenly, I felt a strange sympathy for Lily. I grabbed the makeup artist’s hand, snatching the powder puff. “She’s clearly in pain and you have this attitude? If you’re this unprofessional, get out. I’ll do it!” Lily looked at me like I was a savior, her eyes instantly red. “Sister, thank you for being so good to me…” She told me about her suffering by that dog’s side these past few years. Archer monopolized her, forbidding her from socializing or contacting the outside world, forcing her to be a compliant doll. She couldn’t save herself because she couldn’t study like I did to build a future. She was bound, tied down. A canary with broken wings, kept only for amusement. Exactly like the old me.

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I am a top-tier Ph.D. researcher at an Ivy League institution, and also the “white moonlight”—the unattainable obsession—of Sebastian Thorne, the billionaire heir to the Thorne empire. Six years ago, when Sebastian was depressed and destitute, estranged from his family, I used my psychology background to guide him out of the darkness. Since then, he fell in love with me uncontrollably. After reclaiming his status as the Prince of New York’s elite circle, he pursued me relentlessly. But my heart was only filled with academia. Frustrated by my rejections, Sebastian bought out my entire research project and signed our team to his conglomerate. He visited my lab daily, proposing marriage every other week. I never responded. Enraged, Sebastian began collecting women who looked like me. The latest substitute was an influencer who bore a passing resemblance to me. Thinking she was the future Mrs. Thorne, she defied Sebastian’s ban and broke into the private lab, where she found me alone. Her assistant fanned the flames: “I heard there’s a ‘science-bait’ girl pestering our Prince, trying to sleep her way to the top. We have to tear her apart!” The substitute used a riding crop to smash the lab and used fine needles to destroy my hands, peeling my fingernails off one by one in a bloody mess. She then presented them to Sebastian like a treasure. “Babe, there was a fake ‘science girl’ trying to copy me. I taught her a lesson for you!” Chapter 1 I had been held hostage by Sebastian Thorne for three years using my research project as leverage. He treated me like a fragile piece of porcelain. As long as I agreed to be his, he was willing to lay the entire wealth of the city at my feet. That included the most advanced academic resources in the world. I admit, I was tempted. But in the end, I refused. I simply didn’t love him. Six years ago, Sebastian suffered from severe depression due to family trauma. He was standing on the bridge, ready to jump, when I, busy with my master’s thesis and experiments, ran into him. I saved him. I used my knowledge to talk him down and guide him out of the shadows step by step. But after he recovered, his gratitude morphed into a terrifying obsession. The Thorne family lined up heiresses for him, but he wouldn’t even look at them. He tanked multi-million dollar deals just to make me smile. But I was distressed. On the 23rd time I rejected him, I reiterated my stance. “Sebastian, stop wasting your time on me. I don’t plan to marry. I want to dedicate my life to science.” A week later, Sebastian acquired the entire research institute my mentor and I worked for. He threatened me with the results of years of our hard work. “Elena, if you dare to leave the project or run away from me, I will make sure your mentor’s life work turns to dust.” I couldn’t gamble with my mentor’s legacy. We were on the verge of a breakthrough. I had to submit and sign a five-year contract with Thorne Industries. Today, the whole team was on vacation. I was the only one there, running some tests, when a commotion broke out in the hallway. “Tiffany, didn’t Mr. Thorne give a strict order? No one is allowed near this wing. Maybe there are state secrets… maybe we should go back…” “What are you afraid of? I’m Sebastian’s girlfriend! I saw him secretly ordering a diamond ring two days ago. Soon, I’ll be the mistress of the Thorne family. It’s just a tiny lab, why can’t I enter?” “Besides, don’t forget my influencer persona. I’m the ‘Science Beauty.’ How can I not tour the new lab Sebastian bought?” The arrogant female voice drowned out the timid advice of her companion. I frowned. The lab required absolute silence. This entitled woman barging in must be the new substitute Sebastian found, the influencer Tiffany Miller. I sighed. I once told Sebastian that I needed quiet and no interruptions. That one sentence twisted into his extreme possessiveness. Last month, a bird flew in by mistake. Sebastian saw it on the surveillance feed and had it… let’s just say, removed, in a very gruesome way. Thinking of that scene still made me shudder. I was just about to take off my lab coat and go out to kindly warn her, but the lab door was kicked open. Chapter 2 The woman, dressed to the nines in designer gear, looked shocked when she saw me, then flew into a rage. “Where did this plastic surgery monster come from? Why do you look so much like me?” The assistant behind her added fuel to the fire: “Tiffany, I heard there’s a wannabe ‘science girl’ pestering Mr. Thorne, trying to seduce him. The lab is empty today except for this schemer. She must be trying to copy your ‘Science Beauty’ persona. We have to destroy her!” Before I could react, a stinging slap landed on my face. Tiffany’s face was twisted with anger. “You slut! You could hook up anywhere, but you chose my husband’s lab! You really are calculating!” I realized then—she had misunderstood. I covered my cheek and looked at her calmly. I wanted to fight back, but I instinctively glanced at the surveillance camera overhead. “Forget it. I won’t hold this against you. This isn’t where you should be. Leave now.” Two weeks ago, a girl deliberately bumped into me. I thought it was nothing, but Sebastian saw it on the monitors. That same day, the girl lost the use of her hands. That was when I knew Sebastian’s methods were not just cruel; they were psychotic. This girl seemed ignorant. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I advised her to leave. But Tiffany sneered at my words and became even more aggressive. “We’re both playing the game, stop pretending! I know you want to take advantage of the empty lab, dress up in a lab coat, and seduce Sebastian!” “Any woman with a brain knows the Prince of New York doesn’t like flashy girls; he likes cold, intellectual women in lab coats.” “I worked so hard to build my academic livestream persona to get where I am today. In a few days, I’ll be Mrs. Thorne. I won’t let you mess things up right under my nose!” Tiffany grabbed my hair and threw me heavily onto the floor. Then, she pulled a riding crop from her back—a prop for her photos—and whipped it viciously across my face. The crop had microscopic barbs. Every strike not only caused intense pain but left thin, bleeding scratches. “Don’t think that just because you got plastic surgery to look like me, you can catch Sebastian’s eye. Today, I’m going to ruin this face and tear these clothes off you. Let’s see if you dare pretend to be a scholar then!” Chapter 3 I couldn’t help but cry out in pain. Before the next lash could fall, I gritted my teeth and caught the barbed whip with my bare hand. My eyes were dark. “Before you hit me, did you check who I am?” The barbs dug into my palm. Tiffany yanked it back deliberately. A searing pain shot through my nerves as the skin on my right palm was shredded into a bloody mess. Tiffany looked arrogant, sneering with disdain. “I don’t care who you are. You’re just a poser, a ‘pick-me’ girl acting smart in a lab. You know Sebastian likes this type, so you rushed here to throw yourself at him!” My voice dropped. “I am a Ph.D., not whatever ‘science bait’ you’re talking about.” As soon as I spoke, Tiffany stepped on my face. The sharp point of her stiletto dug into my nasal bone. “You? A Ph.D.? With that face?” “Don’t think I don’t know. You read those online guides, crawled in through the maintenance hatch, and wanted to roleplay, didn’t you?” “Speaking of which, I should learn from you. My livestream style is outdated. Maybe I should do a ‘lab play’ session next time. Sebastian will be obsessed!” Dust from her sole fell into my eyes. I squeezed them shut. Since I saved Sebastian, he did develop a fetish. He liked watching me do experiments, expressionless, in my lab coat. I thought he would stop there, but he escalated, searching the city for substitutes who looked like me. Not just in looks, but in the way they carried themselves while holding a test tube. Tiffany had studied me for a long time to become the top influencer in the “academic beauty” niche, finally catching Sebastian’s eye. Now she mistook me for a competitor. Of course, she wouldn’t let me go. “Sebastian has been pursuing me…” I pointed weakly to the camera above. “If you don’t believe me… look up. Sebastian watches me through the monitor constantly. If you don’t leave now, you might never get the chance to…” Chapter 4 Tiffany laughed wildly, not believing a word. “You think I grew up scared?” “Forget this lab; this entire research center will be mine in the future!” Her assistant, Becky, chimed in. “Exactly! You schemer, look who’s standing in front of you! This is the future Mrs. Thorne!” “Out of all the influencers, the Prince chose our Tiffany. What does that prove? True love!” I wanted to roll my eyes, but my face hurt too much. Seeing Tiffany order her assistant to smash the lab to punish me, I panicked and struggled to get up. “No! Stop!” This lab held my mentor’s life work. I couldn’t watch this woman destroy it! I lunged forward like a madwoman, but Tiffany whipped me to the ground again. “See? Shameless! If Sebastian really knew you, what’s a smashed lab to him? You’re scared because you can’t pay for the damages!” “I’m going to teach you a lesson today! Becky, smash it!” Becky grabbed a heavy wrench and started destroying the equipment. I desperately protected my mentor’s research data behind me, refusing to let go no matter how they pulled. Tiffany got interested. She threw down the whip. “Becky, tie this poser up!” “I want to see what she’s protecting. Maybe it’s a secret guide to seducing men!” I was battered and outnumbered. I couldn’t fight them. Becky wrapped the barbed whip around me, tying me up and shoving me into the corner. Tiffany casually flipped through the file. “I thought it was treasure. Just boring numbers and words. Definitely a prop for your act.” Saying that, she tore the manuscript in half!

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While I was dating Spencer, his best friend, Rhys, made it his personal mission to badmouth me. “Beyond beautiful, she’s useless.” “She calls him to check in even when we’re just getting drinks. She’ll walk all over you, man.” “Be a man, Spencer. Don’t be a simp, okay?” Goaded by Rhys’s constant needling, Spencer coldly dumped me. Two months later, he regretted it and called late one night, begging to reconcile. But the person who answered the phone was Rhys. “Bro, the funny thing is, the moment I laid eyes on your girlfriend, I knew you and I were going to be inseparable.” “Oh, right. We’re getting married next month. Be sure to come.” 1 Spencer introduced me to Rhys at some upscale dinner party. “Babe, this is Rhys.” Spencer’s tone was noticeably reverent when he made the introduction. I looked over, a little self-conscious. Rhys sat at the center of the crowd, relaxed, with striking features and an exceptional aura. He was clearly high society, old money. Far wealthier than Spencer, who was just a local trust fund kid. I greeted him politely: “Hi, Rhys. I’m Sloan.” Rhys didn’t nod or reply. He just stared at me. He held my gaze for two or three seconds. After a beat, he finally asked Spencer: “Your girlfriend?” “Yeah, man.” “Oh.” Rhys’s expression suddenly turned impatient, and he looked away, not sparing me another glance. I scratched my head. Even though I’m slow to catch on, I sensed that this elite guy didn’t like me. 2 That hunch was quickly confirmed. Spencer threw a big party for his birthday, inviting several friends, Rhys included. I was running late because of extra hours at the office. Just as I reached out to push open the private lounge door, I heard Rhys’s voice drift out, lazy and condescending. “Spencer, aside from her looks, that girlfriend of yours is useless. What do you even see in her?” … Well, even the rich talk trash behind people’s backs. I felt a little awkward. I sheepishly pulled back my hand, silently racking my brain trying to figure out what I’d done to offend this sophisticated man. Inside, Spencer replied: “The face and the body, obviously. She’s got that innocent-but-sexy vibe. Who wouldn’t be into that?” “You agree, right, man?” “…” Rhys was eerily quiet for a few seconds before speaking again: “So you’re going to marry her?” Spencer hesitated: “Ah, I don’t know, actually.” “How can I put this? Sloan is genuinely beautiful, but she’s a little slow, and her parents are just regular people—farmers, honestly. I don’t want to lose the battle against my brother over my choice of wife.” I knew about Spencer’s half-brother, who was battling him for control of the family business. My parents were just simple, working-class people. I couldn’t offer him any business leverage. Rhys made a noise of acknowledgment. “It’s true. It’s a mismatch. You need to be cautious about mixing bloodlines. Don’t lose the war over a fling.” Spencer was touched. “Thanks for the concern, Rhys. I’ll toast you first.” “I’m really moved that you came to my party tonight. Anything you ever need from me, you got it.” A new round of toasts began inside the room, accompanied by everyone’s fawning praise for Rhys. I stood outside the door, a knot tightening in my chest. I felt hurt by Rhys’s harsh words about me. I felt sad about the massive gap between Spencer’s family and mine. And I felt disappointed that Spencer wasn’t firmly committed to marrying me. But it was okay. We’d only been dating for two months. We had plenty of time to work things out. Once the topic inside the room shifted, I composed myself, pushed the door open, and walked in. When Spencer saw me, he acted as if nothing had happened, constantly piling food onto my plate. The other guys greeted me out of respect for him. Only Rhys maintained a cold, irritated expression from the moment I entered, looking like he was in a terrible mood. Right. He still really seemed to hate me. I decided to just stay as far away from him as possible. I made a mental note. 3 After that night, Spencer seemed to have formally latched onto Rhys like a remora. He was constantly out drinking and hanging out with Rhys and his circle of friends. He’d come home every day reeking of alcohol and a faint, foreign female perfume. A cheap one. Sweet and cloying. The kind club girls wore. I don’t know what he was hearing out there, but lately, he was subtly finding fault with everything I did. He said I was a bad drinker, that I was too introverted, and that I constantly checked up on him. His dissatisfaction with me grew daily. One night, when Spencer was out drinking late again and hadn’t returned, I called him, worried. “Spencer, what time are you planning on coming home tonight?” Men have a strange psychology. They hate being called home by their girlfriends during a gathering with their friends; they feel it compromises their male pride. Spencer sounded annoyed, though his tone was barely polite. “Sloan, I haven’t finished drinking yet. I’ll come home after.” “Can’t you stop now? I miss you and I want you back soon.” “Just go to sleep, don’t wait up for me.” After Spencer hung up, the man of sophisticated aura next to him suddenly scoffed. It was Rhys. “Spencer, why does your girlfriend check up on you every time you come out for a drink?” “If you marry her, she’ll run your life.” A group of guys broke out into laughter. “Yeah, if my girl dared to try and manage me, I’d dump her and find a new one.” “Seriously, are you even a man, Spence?” Spencer was embarrassed that he’d lost face. He mumbled: “I’ll talk to her later. I’m not going to tolerate this habit of hers.” Rhys offered an ambiguous, knowing smile. 4 Spencer didn’t come home until the next day. He had a hangdog, hungover look, and his clothes were wrinkled. The club-girl perfume smell was heavier, cloyingly strong. I hesitated before speaking: “Spencer, can you stop going out with those friends of yours? Especially Rhys, I think there’s something strange about him.” Spencer tugged at his tie and frowned when he heard that. He remembered the embarrassing scene last night where his friends had collectively mocked him until he couldn’t lift his head. My request now sent his irritation soaring. “What are you talking about? He’s the only heir to the most powerful family in this city—my family’s wealth is a rounding error for him. If I latch onto him, I’ll be set for life.” “…But I don’t like him constantly dragging you out drinking.” “Sloan, be sensible. That phone call you made last night nearly made me lose face in front of everyone.” “I have been very sensible.” “Then be a little more sensible, okay? Stop calling to rush me home. It’s annoying.” So, my concern was annoying him. I stared at him, disappointed, then grabbed my purse and walked past him. “Spencer, if you don’t distance yourself from Rhys and those people, then let’s just cool off for a few days.” “Sloan! Now you dare to give me the cold shoulder?!” Spencer angrily called out a few times, but I didn’t look back. Starting that day, we were in a cold war. He didn’t try to placate me, and I didn’t go home, opting to stay at the office instead. However, an unfamiliar number started sending me frequent photos of Spencer over the next few days. In the pictures, my boyfriend was intimately embracing different women, his face blurry with intoxication, living the high life. It was clear he was enjoying himself immensely. I didn’t know who was sending them. But someone was secretly trying to drive a wedge between Spencer and me. I have to admit, it was a huge success. In a fit of anger, I sent Spencer a breakup text. 5 Unexpectedly, Spencer didn’t go out that evening. Instead, he cooked an entire table of food, hoping to reconcile. I was surprised. During the time we lived together, he wouldn’t even pick up a dropped ketchup bottle. He sincerely apologized. “Babe, I don’t want to lose you. Can we please stop fighting?” “What about your friends, like Rhys?” “I can’t completely cut him off. Rhys is genuinely helpful to my business goals. But I will reduce the number of times I go out with them. I won’t neglect you anymore.” I breathed a sigh of relief. This was good enough. I nodded. We both took a step back, and the cold war ended harmoniously. Spencer happily went to the kitchen to serve soup, and I just as happily went to the bathroom to wash my hands. Someone else’s mood, however, was far from pleasant. In a private lounge, Rhys lit a cigarette and called Spencer. “Rhys, what’s up?” “Spencer, why aren’t you here drinking?” Spencer sighed. “Rhys, I can’t make it tonight. My girlfriend and I had a fight, and I just cooked a meal to smooth things over.” Rhys’s tone instantly turned sharp. “Smooth what over?” “Be a man. Don’t be a simp, okay?” “You should spend that time drinking instead. I got you a solid investor for the new project, and he’s here tonight. Come talk business first. Don’t let a woman distract you from the important stuff.” Spencer hesitated: “But…” Rhys was cold and cutting. “If you don’t come, I’ll turn him down. I was going to use this project to help you gain ground on your half-brother, but forget it. Go back to being a whipped dog.” “No, no, no, man. I’ll be there.” “Hurry up.” Rhys hung up the phone, a calculated plume of smoke leaving his lips. A look of pure calculation flashed in his dark eyes before vanishing. 6 When I came out after washing my hands, I saw Spencer hurriedly putting on his jacket. “I thought we were eating. Where are you going?” “I have an emergency meeting. A really important one. I have to go out and drink.” I was dejected. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? We just made up today.” Spencer was impatient: “Sloan, I thought you’d be more sensible after the cold war. Why are you even more dramatic now?” He thought: The guys were right. You can’t spoil women. The more you give, the more they demand. I took one step back, and now she’s trying to manage my important business meetings. I didn’t want to argue, so I didn’t try to stop him again. “…Okay. Then please come home early.” “I’ll try.” Spencer scoffed and walked out. But by midnight, he still hadn’t returned and hadn’t texted me. I was going to go to bed, but then I realized Spencer hadn’t taken his keys. Reluctantly, I called him. 7 In the private lounge. The deal had mysteriously fallen apart. Spencer was furious. The investor, for some reason, kept giving him a hard time, eventually walking out without a deal. Rhys, sitting nearby, hadn’t offered a word of support. Just as Spencer was frustratedly running his hands through his hair and drinking heavily, my call came in. “Spencer, what time are you coming back?” The nagging question instantly triggered the entire night’s pent-up anger. “Sloan, are you serious? Why are you so annoying?” “I told you I was at a meeting, and you’re still bugging me.” “Why are you so completely unreasonable now? You’re so whiny and high-maintenance.” I was stunned by the brutal outburst, and instinctively tried to explain. “I just wanted to ask you if you brought the—” “Just what? It’s true you’re useless beyond your pretty face. You can’t offer me any help at all.” “Get lost. We’re done. Get out of my apartment tonight. I never want to see you again.” The fact that he could say something that cruel proved there was no reason for us to be together anymore. I said: “Okay.” … After his tirade, Spencer hung up first. The hangers-on nearby heard enough to know they’d broken up, and they immediately started laughing and praising him. “Wow, Spence, that’s the most masculine thing you’ve done.” “Well played. Never give a woman too much power. Checking up on you during a business deal? She should be at home warming the bed.” “Don’t worry, Spencer, I’ll introduce you to some hotter, high-profile influencers.” After a round of fawning, Spencer’s depressed mood improved significantly. He thought. Right. Sloan was only good-looking. A loss he could afford. As he was toasting his friends, Spencer suddenly noticed that someone was missing from the room. “Hey, where did Rhys go?” Someone replied: “He just left with his car keys. Said he was going to pick up his girlfriend.” “Whose daughter is his girlfriend? I’ve never heard him mention her.” Spencer was suspicious. “I don’t know.” The group of guys started gossiping, running through a list of eligible women, from the oil baron’s daughter to the shipping magnate’s granddaughter. None of them fit. “That’s weird. Who could it be?”

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The intern who ranked dead last in company performance just landed a manager position, all thanks to my husband. I’d been overseas for a six-month executive program, and her salary tripled. On my first day back, the girl publicly splashed coffee all over my new custom-tailored Armani suit. “Marcus said that if I wanted your job, all he has to do is say the word.” I countered by slapping her termination papers right onto her chest. My husband and his entire inner circle responded by throwing their own resignation letters onto my desk. “Unless you reinstate her immediately, we all walk today.” I smiled. “Perfect. I’ll replace all of you, starting with you.” 1 The air in the spacious conference room was thick, frozen solid. All eyes were fixed on Marcus Shaw. And why wouldn’t they be? Every single person currently in the room was a loyalist he’d personally promoted. The senior staff I had trained and mentored? They had either been systematically sidelined or politely phased out by him under various pretexts over the last six months. Sienna Tate saw the clear shift in momentum and didn’t even bother pretending anymore. She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and a look of unconcealed mockery danced in her eyes. “Ms. Rhodes,” she purred, using my formal title with maximum disdain. “See this? You trying to move me? It’s not going to be that easy.” “As long as Marcus is on my side, no one in this room can touch me.” “And I hate to break it to you, but these days, Marcus is the one calling the shots at Aether Advisors, inside and out. You? You’re just a very expensive figurehead.” She chuckled, then reached for the coffee cup on the table. Finding it empty, a junior associate scrambled to her side to refill it. The steam rose, and the smug triumph on her face was almost blinding. “How does that feel? A little tight in the chest?” “Too bad. You’re just going to have to swallow it.” The conference room was meant to be a place of quiet focus, but Sienna couldn’t care less, her voice becoming sharper with every word. Seeing my silence only fueled her. “Honestly, ‘Department Manager’ sounds a little boring anyway. I saw your corner office—the view looks incredible from up there.” This was no longer a subtle grab; it was open coveting of my position as CEO. I truly didn’t understand her audacity. What gave her this bulletproof confidence? I shifted my gaze, sweeping over the stack of glaring white resignation letters, then slowly looked up, meeting every pair of eyes in the room. “Have you all thought this through? You’re going to use your careers as leverage to force my hand, all for her?” “Is she—an underperforming employee who has done nothing but cause problems—worth sacrificing your futures for? Really?” I found the whole situation darkly amusing, and I leaned back against the leather seat, truly baffled by their collective choice. “Camille, you’re missing the point.” Marcus’s voice cut in, cold and sharp. “They aren’t doing this for her. They are doing it for me. I am the one who controls their future here. Your words no longer carry any weight.” The moment the words left his mouth, the conference room door swung open, and the assembled staff respectfully chorused: “Mr. Shaw.” Each one of those “Mr. Shaw’s” landed like a fresh, stinging slap across my face. Aether Advisors wasn’t his—it was my blood, sweat, and vision. I was the sole founder. Yet, now, these employees only saw Marcus. “Good, everyone’s here.” Marcus visibly relished the deference, his face alight with the calm confidence of a man in control. He looked at me, a curl of cruel mockery on his lip. “You see the situation. Withdraw the termination, reinstate Sienna immediately, or they all walk. You can’t afford the fallout of a core team collapse. You simply can’t handle the mess.” Listening to Marcus’s ruthless threats, my nails dug deep into my palms. I couldn’t understand why he was pushing this, why he would go to such lengths for an outsider. We were husband and wife. “Marcus, are you out of your mind?” “You’re colluding with outsiders to take me down?” My voice trembled with anger. If I didn’t still have a thread of residual feeling for him, the pain wouldn’t have cut so deep. 2 I knew better than anyone: a mass walkout of the core team meant catastrophic destruction for the firm. “Outsider?” Marcus scoffed. “Sienna is like family. I’ve mentored her, watched her grow, and I won’t stand by while she’s bullied.” “I gave her a small promotion. Why did you have to turn this into a war, terminating her just to spite me?” When had I ever tried to spite him? This was a calculated smear. “What benefits did Sienna bring the firm in the last six months to justify a meteoric rise to Department Manager?” “As far as I know, not only did she fail to contribute, but her gross negligence cost us the contracts with Crestwood Holdings and Zenith Capital. The direct loss is over two million dollars.” I hadn’t pursued legal action against her—that was my mercy. And now they wanted me to compromise? Hearing me bring up old failings, the smile vanished from Sienna’s face, and she immediately turned a look of wounded innocence on Marcus. “Marcus, listen to her! She failed to close those clients herself, but she’s making me take the fall! She’s deliberately giving me impossible projects, just so I can’t succeed. She’s professionally bullying me!” Her words were the spark. Marcus’s loyalists—his former college peers and recruits—erupted into indignation. “A boss who sabotages staff instead of supporting them? That’s appalling!” “Exactly. There’s no future with an owner like that. We have to stand with Sienna!” “We won’t bow to this injustice!” In an instant, the conference room was filled with a flurry of accusations, as if I were the ruthless, evil one. I watched these unfamiliar faces with cold detachment. All of them had been slotted in by Marcus during the six months I was gone. I was beginning to understand exactly what Marcus was attempting. He was trying to isolate and neutralize me. I thought back to when he first arrived—a young intern whose carelessness nearly got him fired, a kid who could only hang his head and apologize when he messed up. If I hadn’t come down with a severe stomach bug that one time, and if he hadn’t carried me downstairs and rushed me to the emergency room… I probably never would have noticed him. I wouldn’t have taken him under my wing, and I certainly wouldn’t have… fallen in love with him. I never imagined his ambition was this vast, his appetite this greedy. But this little squall? He thought this was enough to capsize my ship? He was gravely mistaken. I casually picked up the top resignation letter, weighed it in my hand, then tossed it back onto the table in front of Marcus with a look of utter scorn. “Threatening me? I’m Camille Rhodes. I’ve seen worse than this.” “Anyone who wants to leave, you are free to process your paperwork now. The door is open. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.” My words stunned the room into silence. Everyone exchanged uneasy glances. They hadn’t anticipated that I would simply refuse to bend to their coercion. Marcus’s face instantly darkened, his expression so grim it looked like rain would pour from it. “Are you sure you want to play this game?” “What did you expect? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” “You want to threaten me with resignations? Threats are the one thing Camille Rhodes does not fear.” “This firm can run without anyone. If you want to walk, I won’t beg you to stay.” Sienna panicked, grabbing Marcus’s arm. “Marcus, what is this…?” “Don’t worry. I’m here. She can’t touch you.” Marcus stood up and walked toward me. “I forgot to mention one thing, Camille. This firm? It’s mine now.” “I wanted to be decent, let you keep your title, let you take your dividends quietly—after all, I owe you. But since you insisted on making a scene, don’t blame me for letting go of the past.” “What does that mean?” I met his icy gaze, lifting my chin. Marcus smiled, reaching out to pat my shoulder, but I deliberately shifted, avoiding his touch. Unfazed, he lowered his hand and adjusted his cuff links. “It means I’ve secured the support of the other partners and completed an internal vote. I am the de facto controller of Aether Advisors. I choose who works here and who doesn’t. Understood?” Sienna nearly jumped for joy. “Marcus! Is that true?” Marcus gave her a confirming nod. Sienna immediately rushed to hug his arm, jutting her chin up at me in blatant victory. The others in the room seemed to find this familiarity normal, relieved only that they had backed the winning side. 3 The fire of rage burned at its peak in my chest. Behind my back, Marcus had not only betrayed our marriage but was now attempting to steal my life’s work. “Haha, are you mad?” Sienna’s laughter was brazen. “Good. You should be. I might as well tell you: whatever wifely affection you two shared died completely the last time he flew overseas to see you.” “The night before you returned? We were together. Oh, and I’m pregnant. It’s Marcus’s baby.” “You know, you’re not a very successful wife, are you?” The eyes of the employees around me were filled with mocking curiosity, devoid of any respect. As Marcus had said, this was no longer my ground. Though I remained outwardly calm, my inner world was a sea of turmoil. I had underestimated Marcus’s cruelty. No wonder Sienna was so arrogant; my good husband had given her every reason to be. They all thought I was finished. I swept the stack of resignation letters onto the floor, slowly stood up, and faced the couple. “The company I built with my own hands? You think you can just take it?” “I am still the corporate representative of this firm. I have not signed any stock transfer agreements. I will ask you again: By what right is my company now yours?” Marcus didn’t get angry; he just laughed. He casually loosened his tie, pulling Sienna closer into his embrace. “I figured you’d say that. So, I prepared a little ‘gift’ just for you.” “Please, gentlemen, come in.” The conference room door was pushed open again, and several men walked in. They were the other founding partners of Aether Advisors. Right now, their eyes were directed only at Marcus, completely ignoring my presence. “What… what is the meaning of this?” A chill snaked up from my gut. “Can’t you tell?” Sienna eagerly piped up, her voice sickly sweet. “These men are here to support Marcus! They’re here to ask you… to permanently leave Aether!” Sienna’s answer earned her a look of approval from Marcus. “Sweetheart, you’re getting the perfect executive wife demeanor.” Marcus turned to me, his eyes now filled only with greed and chilling detachment. “Once you take over, Marcus, you have to let me sit in the managing partner’s chair. I want to feel what it’s like to be the boss!” Sienna cooed, playing the role. Her level of competence? She barely managed the manager role. Managing Partner was a pipe dream. Marcus straightened, facing all the partners, his voice clear and resonant. “Gentlemen, since Camille is here, let’s get a show of hands so no one can accuse me of acting dishonorably.” The words were barely out of his mouth when the partners spoke in unison: “We support Mr. Shaw!” That single, collective sentence was like an array of icy darts, stabbing into my heart. These partners were the people I had fought alongside, starting from a tiny shared cubicle. We were more than just partners; we were comrades. How could they all have defected to Marcus after I was gone for only six months? This was an insult I absolutely refused to swallow. “Why? Tell me, why would you do this?” My voice was dry and hoarse. The partners remained expressionless, their tone clinical and cold. “Mr. Shaw can make us more money. His strategies are more aggressive than yours. We’re businessmen, Camille. It’s purely about profit.” Purely about profit? The irony was suffocating. Had I shortchanged them on dividends? When had I ever closed a major deal without ensuring they got a generous share? I’d protected them, and they had stabbed me in the back. 4 Hearing the partners’ declaration, Sienna’s pride was almost uncontrollable. “Camille, do you hear that? You’re out. Your employees hate you, your partners don’t support you—how pathetic. All these years of hard work, only to hand it all over to us.” “Why are you still sitting there? Get up.” “That chair is mine now.” I completely ignored the jumping jack in front of me, staring only at Marcus and the circle of traitors. Not a single person spoke up for me. They were all united in forcing me out. “If you’d only been reasonable and promoted Sienna when I asked, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” Marcus’s voice was triumphant. “Do you understand now? I made you who you are, and I can just as easily destroy you.” My clenched fists were white at the knuckles. Marcus couldn’t wait to see me disgraced. He gave a sharp look toward the security personnel near the door. “Camille, two options. Walk out on your own and keep some shred of dignity, or let my security team drag you out. Your choice.” But I, Camille Rhodes, wouldn’t choose either. “Idiot. Without my countersignature, any alleged transfer of equity—even if all of you agree—is legally void.” “Oh, is that so?” Marcus had been waiting for this. He threw a document onto the table in front of me. “Then take a good look. You already signed it.” “Last month when I came to see you, I saw how stressed you were with your studies, so I slipped in a ‘Restorative Retreat Suggestion’ for you to sign, remember? The key clause? It was right in the middle.” “How about that, Camille? After all these years with you, I didn’t just learn your methods. I learned to use them better than you ever could.” Seeing my face drop, Sienna seized the opportunity to twist the knife. “I was there that night, too. You had barely left for your campus when I walked into his hotel room. And it only took once to get pregnant. Thanks for vacating the premises for us!” I shot up, swinging my hand to slap Marcus, but he caught my wrist. “Still resorting to violence? Security! Get her out of here!” Strangely, the security guards didn’t move. Marcus roared in frustration, “Are you deaf?” I yanked my hand free and delivered the slap. “You seem to have forgotten one thing, Marcus. I brought you up from an intern, and I can send you right back to where you started.”

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Nine years. Nine years of stolen moments and whispered promises, nine years of being the secret behind the closed door. On my twenty-eighth birthday, my boyfriend of nearly a decade walked into the courthouse and married his high school sweetheart. I stood before him, the question burning silently in my eyes, but Rhys Caldwell’s expression was perfectly serene. “Jocelyn’s heart is failing, Anya. The doctors say she has maybe three months, tops.” His voice was low, clinical, and utterly devoid of remorse. “This was her last wish. I couldn’t let her die with that kind of regret.” Jocelyn Day, his so-called tragic love, leaned against his arm, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “I hate heavy moods,” she announced, her voice ringing across the lavish dining room. “Since we’re married, we should celebrate.” Just like that, with one casual sentence from Jocelyn, the elegant dinner planned for my twenty-eighth birthday instantly became their impromptu wedding reception. My sister, Eliza, and our circle of friends moved through the room, offering rounds of toasts and congratulations. When it was my turn, I didn’t cry. I didn’t falter. Meeting Rhys’s gaze across the linen-covered table, I raised my glass, my face deliberately blank. “Here’s to the happy couple,” I said, my voice cutting through the expectant silence. “May the bitch and the dog live happily ever after.” 1 The entire room went still. Every eye in the place drilled into me. Rhys’s knuckles were white where he gripped his champagne flute. He patted the empty seat beside him, a gesture that was both dismissive and familiar. “Don’t make a scene, Anya. Come and sit down.” That seat, right next to him, had been my exclusive spot for nearly a decade. Now, he expected me to share it with Jocelyn. I ignored him. I walked straight to the other side of the table and sat down next to Eliza. The warmth drained from Rhys’s eyes, replaced by a sudden, dangerous chill. Eliza laughed, trying to smooth over the tension. “Rhys, darling, we all know you treat Anya like your little sister, but you’re a married man now. Watch the boundaries. We wouldn’t want Jocelyn to get the wrong idea.” Jocelyn tightened her grip on his arm, the picture of a devoted, fragile bride. Rhys gave a low chuckle. “I’m just doing this to give Jocelyn peace of mind. This marriage will be dissolved in three months, naturally.” He looked pointedly at me. “Besides, if I had ever intended to marry Anya, why would I have waited until now?” The friends at the table chimed in, eager to back him up. “He was wrecked when Jocelyn went overseas for grad school. Wrecked for almost a year.” “The most eligible bachelor in the city, and all he did was hang out with us. Never brought a date.” “True. Last time Rhys got drunk, he admitted he was waiting for Jocelyn. We all heard it. Everyone here is a witness.” The chatter swirled around me. I kept my head down, slowly sipping my wine, but my chest felt like it was being beaten with a blunt instrument—a heavy, suffocating ache. I had been with Rhys since I was nineteen. When I was twenty-three, I asked him to make us public. He said Eliza was his most important business partner, and an announcement could impact the company’s stock and external perception. He didn’t think I could handle the pressure. When I turned twenty-seven, he promised that if we were still together when I turned twenty-eight, we would finally announce our relationship. Today was my twenty-eighth birthday. And he was legally married to Jocelyn Day. Jocelyn gave me a sickly sweet smile. “Anya, even though Rhys and I bicker, we are legally husband and wife now. I’m sure Rhys has given you plenty of gifts over the years for your birthdays. Shouldn’t you give us a gift in return? I’ve actually been admiring the ring on your finger. Could you give it to me?” My fingers unconsciously clenched, and my breath hitched. That ring was the token he had given me on my nineteenth birthday—the night he first told me he loved me. I hadn’t taken it off in nine years. Eliza, seeing my silence, tried to diffuse the situation. “Anya, you know Rhys has always held a torch for Jocelyn. They’ve missed so much time. Why don’t you be the bigger person?” I looked at Rhys. He remained silent, saying nothing to defend me or the ring. Not until Jocelyn leaned against him, pressing her head into his chest, her voice a soft, manipulative purr. “Rhys, I really love it. Could you just buy me an identical one? Then I won’t have any regrets.” Rhys chuckled softly and pulled her tighter. “Don’t be silly. It’s just a piece of jewelry, not some rare artifact.” He looked at me, his gaze now cold. “Anya, since your sister-in-law likes it so much, just give it to her.” I was numb. Since I was nineteen, I had followed him without a title, a shadow lover. I spent nine years trying to fit his mold—I swapped my comfortable casual wear for the tight, sophisticated clothes he admired. I maintained the secret because he loved the novelty of a forbidden affair. But in that moment, I understood. My nine years of devotion meant less than dust in his estimation. Jocelyn basked in Rhys’s indulgence, and as the table roared with drunken cheers, she kissed him on the mouth. I didn’t yell. I didn’t break down. I quietly slipped the ring off my finger and placed it on the edge of the table. “Mr. Caldwell is right,” I said, meeting his eyes. “It’s not worth much. If the sister-in-law wants it, she can have it.” Rhys stared at me, his eyes now blazing with controlled fury. Jocelyn gasped, enjoying the attention. Rhys loosened his jaw, giving a cold smile. “Since Anya is being so generous, Jocelyn, you should take it.” Jocelyn picked up the ring, examined it for a moment, and her lip curled in distaste. “The setting is only mediocre, not nearly as nice as the ones you bought me.” With a shrug, she tossed the diamond to a passing waiter who was clearing the bone plates. “Lucky you,” she drawled. “Should fetch a decent bit of cash.” I watched the ring roll to a stop beside a smear of food. My blood instantly froze in my veins. Rhys looked at my ashen face, his voice chilling. “Why are you still standing there? We are celebrating my marriage tonight. Everyone stays until the end and everyone is going to enjoy themselves. No one is leaving early.” My face was transparent with shock and pain. “No need. You all have fun. I have other plans.” As the words left my mouth, Rhys’s face darkened completely. I ignored him, turned on my heel, and walked out of the banquet hall. Back in my apartment building’s underground garage, the notification bar on my phone remained silent. Rhys didn’t send a single word of explanation. But he had updated his social media. I tapped the screen. The video showed him and Jocelyn playing a blindfolded grape-feeding game, which quickly turned into a passionate, staged kiss amidst the cheers. As their lips intertwined, everyone in the video was lamenting the nine lost years Jocelyn and Rhys had missed. No one spared a thought for Anya Wells, the woman hidden for nine years. In the video, Jocelyn’s cheeks were flushed, and she delicately kissed his jawline. Rhys didn’t pull away. His eyes held that look—a familiar, nearly frantic devotion—the look he used to give me when he was overwhelmed by desire. Now it belonged to Jocelyn. Rhys, if this is your answer, then I release you. I forced a humorless twist to my lips. Then, I tapped the ‘like’ button on his post. After that, I began systematically clearing the apartment of every trace of my existence. I had pleaded with Rhys to go public countless times. I’d charmed him, argued with him, and even blurredly questioned him in the throes of our most intimate moments: When can we finally be open? He always had an excuse. Until Jocelyn appeared. He introduced her to every friend, told everyone to call her his wife, and married her publicly. In this moment, I was entirely lucid. He wasn’t avoiding public commitment. He was avoiding public commitment to me. After packing my last box, I drove back to my own home. As soon as I stepped inside, my parents, who were traveling overseas, called me via video chat. “Anya, do you remember Leo Harrington, the boy who used to always look out for you when you were little? He’s back in the States running the family business. You should find time to meet up.” During my years with Rhys, my parents had tried to introduce me to numerous eligible young men. They only needed me to agree. Each time, I refused. I was twenty-eight years old. It wasn’t too late to start a new life. Under their hopeful, cautious gaze, I didn’t refuse this time. “Yes,” I said. Shortly after, I submitted my resignation to the group’s Human Resources Department. Because I had been so deeply in love with Rhys, I joined his corporation right after graduation, starting as an assistant. To help him through difficult periods, I’d pull all-nighters analyzing data, reviewing case studies, and revising proposals. I lost almost twenty pounds during one major push. Rhys had been full of sympathy, sending nutritional meals from his personal chef directly to my desk. Even though our relationship was a secret, his care for me had never been disguised. That special attention would now belong entirely to Jocelyn. Not long after the email was sent, Rhys called. When I answered, there was a dead silence on the line. In the past, no matter who called whom, I was always the one to initiate the conversation. This time, I didn’t have the strength to utter a single word. Just as I thought he wouldn’t speak and I prepared to hang up, his voice—tight with irritation—came through. “Anya Wells, what exactly do you think you’re doing? Liking a post, then submitting your resignation? You can’t wait three months?” His voice hardened. “Don’t you worry that I might actually leave you?” I used to be terrified of that. Absolutely terrified. That’s why I was always compliant and agreeable in his presence. I didn’t want to pretend anymore. “Rhys,” I said quietly. “Let’s just end it.” The day after I suggested we break up, I received notification that my resignation had been approved. The HR tone was strictly business. I was required to complete my handover immediately and was not allowed to set foot in the group headquarters after today. Clearly, Rhys was truly enraged this time. As I walked through the departments, I heard the inevitable whispers. “The only reason Mr. Caldwell paid attention to her was because of Eliza, the CEO. She really thought she was going to move up, but look at her now—running off with her tail between her legs.” “So what if the CEO indulged her before? She embarrassed the actual Mrs. Caldwell yesterday. She deserves to be cleaned out.” I ignored the ridicule, calmly processing the paperwork. Once the final stamp fell, I would be done with Rhys Caldwell. “Wait a minute.” Rhys’s cold voice came from behind me. Jocelyn was hanging on his arm, giving me a look of undisguised challenge. “The core documents for this morning’s bid were leaked. I heard Ms. Wells here was responsible for those files,” Jocelyn said. I turned to Rhys. “Are you accusing me?” “We’ll know soon enough,” he said, his face impassive. “A quick check of your work terminal will clarify everything.” Rhys gave a brief nod. Immediately, two people from the Group’s Tech Department swarmed my desk. This was a public conviction without a trial. I had spent several sleepless nights developing those bid documents. And now, Rhys was questioning my loyalty. “Don’t touch my machine!” They weren’t just checking the current files; they were attempting to recover deleted data. If they succeeded, all the intimate photos I had deleted, and the history of my relationship with Rhys, would be exposed. Security guards held me back. I couldn’t reach my desk. “Rhys, tell them to stop. I had nothing to do with the leak.” Rhys clamped his hand tightly around my wrist, his face a mask of iron. “Are you sure it wasn’t you?” The murmurs grew louder around us. “It has to be Anya Wells. Why else would she freak out?” “Maybe she’s doing this out of spite. She couldn’t have the CEO, so she leaked the documents to a rival. That’s cold.” Rhys cut them off with a chilling command. “Silence. Are the files recovered?” “They are!” I spun around. “Don’t open them, Rhys!” Rhys’s grip tightened on my wrist. “Open them.” The intimate photos—hundreds of them—flashed across the monitor screen, stripping away my last vestige of privacy. The overwhelming sense of humiliation threatened to break me entirely. Rhys’s expression was unreadable for a long moment. Then, he smiled. He began scrolling through the photos, one after the other. “Anya Wells, do you have some kind of delusion?” he said, his voice laced with mocking disbelief. “Where did you find all these pictures? Did you Photoshop my face onto someone else’s body?” At his words, a wave of sneering laughter erupted from the onlookers. The humiliation was a physical force, drowning me. He married Jocelyn in secret; I endured it. My birthday dinner became their reception; I accepted it. But I never imagined he would publicly trample my dignity like this. Jocelyn gave a mocking, triumphant smile. “Anya, do you have a crush on Rhys? If you just admit it, I can lend him to you for a few days.” Rhys frowned in annoyance. “Stop playing along with Anya’s drama, Jocelyn. Everyone knows I see Anya as a little sister. If you like those pictures so much, I can have the tech guys make you a few with my face and yours.” He was punishing me for leaving by deliberately and publicly denying our entire history. Each word was a tiny, sharp needle pressing into my heart. I squeezed my palms so hard the pain was blinding, determined not to let a single tear fall. Jocelyn looked satisfied. “Rhys, you shouldn’t hurt a girl’s feelings like that. At least let her save face. What if she runs away, like I did years ago? You’ll have a hard time winning her back.” Rhys scoffed, not believing I had the guts to leave permanently. “Where would she go? She’s either following Eliza or following me. She’s throwing a tantrum. In three days, she’ll be begging me to let her come back.” In the past, our cold wars never lasted more than forty-eight hours. I always gave in first. I always came back to him. But the Anya Wells standing here now no longer loved him. How long would it take him to realize that? I was growing numb to the surrounding laughter. When the tech team withdrew, I looked directly at Rhys. “Mr. Caldwell, since it’s proven the leak had nothing to do with me, shouldn’t you apologize?” A chorus of condemnation immediately rose up. “Is she crazy? Asking the CEO for an apology? Who does she think she is?” “She should be grateful he’s letting her walk away. Just because they didn’t find evidence doesn’t mean she wasn’t guilty.” Rhys frowned, his impatience obvious. “I was following company protocol by checking your equipment before you resigned. You want an apology for that? Anya Wells, are you mad, or am I?” My voice was terrifyingly calm. “There were hundreds of photos on that terminal. You know exactly where they came from. Nine years, Rhys. Is a simple apology for the public humiliation too much to ask?” A flicker of something complicated—pain, perhaps—crossed Rhys’s eyes. Jocelyn, ever the martyr, walked toward me, her smile gentle. “It was thoughtless of us, Anya. If you’re truly offended, I’ll apologize on Rhys’s behalf.” Then, she suddenly began to gasp for air, clutching her chest. Rhys’s expression tightened instantly. He rushed to support her, his voice a furious snarl. “Apologize for what? This has nothing to do with you. Where does it hurt?” He glared at me, as if I were a terrible criminal. “Anya Wells, you can take your anger out on me, but she is a sick person. Why are you intentionally provoking her?” Jocelyn shook her head weakly. “I’m fine. She’s young. I’ll just explain things to her clearly.” She gently pulled away from Rhys and moved toward me. I instantly caught the flash of triumph in her eyes. Before I could even react, she dropped backward and sat heavily on the floor. The room fell silent. Everyone saw that she had fallen on her own. Everyone, except Rhys. He rushed toward me like a maniac and shoved me hard. I stumbled, slamming my hip into the metal filing cabinet behind me. A sharp, twisting cramp erupted in my lower abdomen, and my face went instantly white. But Rhys didn’t even spare me a glance. “Anya Wells,” he spat, already focused on Jocelyn. “You better pray Jocelyn is alright, or I swear I will make you wish you were dead.” The man I had loved for nine years, threatening to make me wish I was dead for the sake of a liar. The last spark of light in my heart extinguished entirely. Then, an astonished cry broke out in the crowd. I reached down and found my hand covered in a warm, slick wetness. Blood was soaking through my clothes. Before I lost consciousness, Eliza—my strong, beautiful sister—screamed, her arms shaking as she caught me. “Don’t be afraid, Anya. I’m here.” After rushing Jocelyn to the emergency room, Rhys received a phone call from my sister. Eliza’s voice, a scream of pure rage he’d never heard, echoed in the silent hall. “Rhys Caldwell, are you a monster? I will deal with you later!” “Right now, you get over here. Anya miscarried.”

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I was doomscrolling through TikTok when the notification hit—a viral post about my boyfriend and his childhood friend getting married at a music festival. The video was shaky but clear. My boyfriend, Ashton Cole, the lead singer of his band, was hoisting a marriage certificate above his head, screaming at the roaring crowd. “Today! I want to announce to the world! Skylar Young is my wife!” A text from Ashton popped up on my screen, immediately followed by another. “Vera, I’m so sorry, the energy at the festival was crazy, Skylar and I were just messing around.” Then I saw Skylar’s Instagram story. A nine-panel grid, all close-ups of the certificate. The caption: “From school uniforms to a wedding dress, thank you, Ashton, for my exclusive romance.” Hundreds of likes and comments flooded in beneath, gushing: “BFF goals turned endgame!” “I’m obsessed! This is the ship we needed!” My gaze snagged on the identical matching jackets they wore, the subtle embroidery on the collar: A&S. I’d always thought the ‘S’ stood for the ‘L’ in my last name, Lane. Now, it hit me with the force of a punch. The ‘S’ had never been for Vera Lane. It was always for Skylar. I ignored the message, opened my streaming app, and hit ‘Go Live.’ As the “Queen of the Live Sell” with two million followers, I never lacked heat. The moment the camera turned on, the view count shot past a hundred thousand. “Hey, ladies. My apologies. This is an impromptu stream.” I gestured to the life-sized poster of Ashton Cole behind me, one I’d personally paid for. “See this guy? My boyfriend. Just married someone else at The Atlas Festival.” 1 The comment section exploded: “OMG! Is that the hot lead singer from the band on the trending page?” “Vera, don’t stress! Karma’s a bitch, and she’s got a list!” “Grabbed my popcorn! Time for the tea, Queen!” I picked up the lipstick on my desk and touched up my already perfect makeup. “Tea? Too boring. Tonight, we do something far more satisfying. We weaponize the livestream. This is a retail counterattack.” I opened my backend and listed the first product: Ashton Cole’s signed guitar pick, limited to 1,000, priced at $9.99. “Family, this pick was signed by my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—and was meant to be a fan giveaway. Now, however…” I dangled the pick for the camera. “Consider this his ‘wedding gift’ to me. Link is in the number one carousel. You snooze, you lose.” Before the sentence was finished, the Sold Out notification flashed. Comments raced across the screen: “Bought it! Consider it my contribution to the divorce fund!” “Vera is savage!” Next, I listed the second product: a canvas tote bag Skylar often carried, one I’d helped her move from my stock, with 5,000 units remaining. “This bag, the ‘bride’s’ favorite accessory. But I have to warn you, the zipper sticks, and the interior lining sheds fibers like crazy. I told Skylar not to sell it, but she insisted, ‘My fans buy whatever I wear.’” I zoomed the camera onto the flawed seams of the bag. “Today, it’s $39.99. Consider it my public service announcement—don’t let these online snake oil sellers fool you.” Instantly, another sell-out. Meanwhile, Skylar’s social media was on fire. Her fans swarmed my comments, calling me a “clout chaser” and an “evil rival.” I pinned one of their nastiest comments to the top of my chat. Caption: “Thanks for boosting the algorithm. Insult me again, and I’ll drop another limited-edition charity item.” Just as I finished listing the third product, Ashton’s phone call came in. I hit the speaker button. His voice, strained and furious, was amplified through my mic. “Vera Lane, are you out of your mind?! Shut the stream down right now!” “Out of my mind?” I scoffed. “Compared to you marrying your ‘best friend’ in front of ten thousand people, how crazy can I really be?” “It was an accident! Skylar and I were just messing around!” I held my phone up to the camera and waved it. “And Skylar’s caption, ‘From school uniform to wedding dress,’ was just messing around? Did the county clerk just print the wrong name on your official certificate?” I heard Skylar’s muffled, tearful voice in the background. “Vera, please don’t misunderstand, Ashton and I are just friends! The media twisted everything…” I opened my photo album and found a picture I’d taken last week. Ashton in my kitchen, making Skylar a warm cup of ginger tea. Skylar snuggled into his chest, watching a movie. I AirPlayed the image to the stream’s massive screen. “Friends wear their girlfriend’s pajamas and sleep in her bed while she’s on a business trip? Friends exchange diamond rings on Valentine’s Day?” The chat log was now a blur of all-caps. #AshtonColeSkylarYoungLie was trending number one. I watched the mounting sales figures on my dashboard, a cold smile forming on my lips. “Ashton Cole, Skylar Young. The game has just begun.” 2 I hung up on Ashton, took a long sip of ice water, and went back to the stream. The live viewer count had passed five million, and the gifts were pouring in so fast the screen was glitching. “Hang tight, family. The drama is endless, and so are the deals.” I listed the fourth item: Ashton’s band’s official merchandise T-shirt. “These T-shirts cost them $8 to produce, and they sell them for $75. Today, on my channel? $29.99 for two. And I’ll throw in a signed photo of the scumbag himself.” The inventory vanished immediately. I saw comments like “Vera is on fire!” but I felt nothing inside, just a vast, chilling emptiness. I had spent years promoting Ashton’s band, securing sponsorships, and essentially bankrolling their rise. He wouldn’t have this momentum without me. And this was my return on investment—a massive public betrayal. “A lot of you are asking why I didn’t notice sooner.” I picked up the framed picture of Ashton and me from my desk. “I did. Last year, on his birthday, I found a woman’s necklace in his car. It wasn’t mine. He told me it was Skylar’s, and he was just holding it for her.” “Another time, I called him late at night with a fever. He said he was at band practice. But Skylar posted a photo, geotagged at my apartment, with the caption, ‘Ashton’s midnight snack is the best medicine.’” I wiped a non-existent tear from my eye. “I kept telling myself, they’re childhood friends. It’s normal. Looking back, I realize I wasn’t a girlfriend; I was just the biggest fool on the internet.” The chat was a torrent of support, and users were already digging up dirt on Ashton and Skylar. Seizing the moment, I listed the fifth product: Skylar’s endorsed skincare line. “I tried this one, and it made my skin break out. I mentioned it to Skylar, and she told me my skin was ‘too sensitive.’ Today, I’m sharing the lab report with you. This product has lead and mercury levels that are three times the legal limit.” I projected the forensic report onto the screen. “Original price, $198. Today, it’s $49.99. Consider this a warning: stop letting these fake influencers ruin your health.” Just then, a DM from Ashton’s manager popped up. “Vera Lane, you’re going to destroy Ashton! Let’s discuss this privately. We’ll offer you compensation.” I took a screenshot of the message and flashed it on the live feed. “Compensation? I don’t need your money. I just need everyone to see the truth about the A-list rock star they worship.” I streamed until four in the morning. My total sales had topped ten million dollars. On the flip side, Ashton and Skylar’s world was imploding. Skylar’s endorsement deals were being terminated by brands. Ashton’s band had canceled several shows, and their fan numbers were plummeting. “Alright, family. That’s enough drama for one night.” I waved at the camera. “Same time tomorrow. I’ll be showing you the ‘love child’ of this scam: the dirty details about the shady company they run together.” I shut down the stream and leaned back in my chair, exhaling a long, shaky breath. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Vera, I saw the news. Are you okay?” “Mom, I’m fine,” I said, my voice raw. “I just finally saw someone for who he really is.” “Good, honey. Good.” My mother’s voice caught. “If you need anything, just come home. Your father and I will take care of you.” I hung up, and the tears I’d fought all night finally spilled down my cheeks. 3 For years, I had molded my life around Ashton, becoming an accessory to his dream. When I received the acceptance letter to the top business program in the country, I was filled with ambition. But then I opened the door to his cramped, moldy studio. He was sitting there, hugging his battered, peeling old guitar, his eyes clouded with uncertainty about the future. He looked up, and his eyes lit up when he saw the thick envelope in my hand. But the excitement faded quickly. He gently took my hand, his voice a quiet plea. “Vera, please stay with me? Just until the band makes it big. I promise, I’ll give you the best life.” Looking at his intense, pleading eyes, I made my choice. I walked over to the trash can and tore the acceptance letter in half. My dad didn’t speak to me for six months. He was furious. “You’re giving up a clear path to success to gamble your future on a boy who plays music in a basement? Do you have any idea what you’re throwing away?” I stood at the door to the practice space, listening to Ashton’s new melody, and whispered into the phone. “Dad, he has talent. I believe in him.” His potential consumed me. I spent every cent of my savings from years of internships on his first real professional guitar—a three-thousand-dollar instrument. I ate cheap ramen for a month, but watching the pure, unadulterated joy in his eyes when he opened the case made it all feel worthwhile. I leveraged every contact I had to book gigs. To land a crucial sponsorship, I sat through endless, agonizing dinners, forcing down shots of high-proof liquor, my stomach churning, while plastering a convincing smile on my face. I’d stumble out of the hotel clutching the contract, throwing up as the cold air hit me. The next day, I’d be back out there, popping pain meds, running to venues. To generate buzz, I started using my own beauty influencer platform—the one I’d painstakingly built over two years—to promote them. I edited their best performances into snappy short videos. I spent hours diverting my own hard-earned half-million followers, one by one, to his account. Watching his follower count climb from three digits to five, I felt more excited than I did about my own success. Skylar always used to tell me, “Vera, you are too good to Ashton. I’m almost jealous.” I realize now it wasn’t jealousy. It was a possessive appraisal. At one of the band’s small victory parties, I walked into the venue and caught Skylar, drunk, sobbing into Ashton’s shoulder, telling him she’d been waiting for him all these years. The celebratory cake I was carrying crashed to the floor. Ashton immediately pushed her away, stammering that Skylar was just drunk and talking nonsense. I looked at Skylar’s tear-streaked face and Ashton’s shifty eyes, feeling a spike of pure suspicion. But I forced myself to be the mature girlfriend. “It’s fine,” I said. “Childhood friendships run deep. I get it.” Then there was my birthday. Ashton promised a huge surprise. I waited until midnight, only to get a text saying, “Last-minute band practice. Forgot.” I found out later he was with Skylar at the emergency room, helping her bandage a tiny cut from chopping vegetables. Skylar even posted a picture on social media of Ashton sitting beside her, captioned: “Glad I have you.” When I finally confronted him, he was dismissive. “Skylar’s always been dramatic about pain. I can’t just abandon my oldest friend. You need to be mature, Vera. Don’t be so petty.” To keep the peace, I retreated, again and again, convincing myself that they were just friends. My tolerance, my quiet sacrifice, only fueled their relentless betrayal. I opened my laptop, pulling up the financial reports for Ashton and Skylar’s company. The hidden losses, the inflated metrics—these were the loopholes I’d built into the structure back when I was helping them set up the business correctly. I’d intended them to be guardrails for proper governance. Now, they were the exact blades I needed to shred their lies. 4 I was woken up the next afternoon by my phone ringing insistently. It was Ashton. I hit the answer button, but before I could speak, his voice erupted in a blind rage. “Vera Lane! Are you insane? You need to delete those recordings and release a statement saying yesterday was a huge misunderstanding! Or I will destroy your career!” I let out a slow, cold laugh and sat up in bed. “Destroy my career? Ashton, do you really think you’re in a position to threaten me?” “A position?” He sounded like I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “I have the photos of you drinking with sponsors to get money for the band. And the chat logs. I release those, and you think your fans are still going to love the ‘Queen of the Live Sell’? You’ll be the ‘Escort Influencer who Sleeps for Sponsors!’” I gripped the phone tightly. The photos were from that one celebratory dinner, taken by a malicious employee. The chat logs were doctored, completely out of context. But he kept them. He saved them to use against me. “And listen carefully,” he continued, his tone turning venomous. “Because of our three years, I’ll give you one last chance. Go live right now and apologize to me. Take all the blame on yourself. Say you were jealous of Skylar and made up the lies. If you do this, I can get the heat off, and I’ll even give you company resources. What do you say?” Skylar’s high-pitched voice chimed in nearby, adding fuel to the fire. “That’s right, Vera. Ashton is being so generous. Don’t be stupid. If you miss this chance, you are completely finished.” Ashton returned to the line. “If you don’t cooperate, I’m sending this ‘evidence’ to your parents and making sure you can never show your face in this city again! And that’s not all, I have compromising photos of you that will make sure you never recover, ever!” That last sentence hit me hard. My parents were quiet, simple people. They thought I was having a successful, easy life in the city. If they saw these vile, fabricated accusations, the worry and anxiety would crush them. Not to mention the judgmental gossip from their neighbors. I hung up and immediately checked X. Sure enough, #VeraLaneEscort and #VeraLaneSponsorScam were already trending. Ashton’s team had bought a massive wave of bots, flooding the comment sections with sludge like “Get out of the industry,” “Disgusting,” and “She slept her way to the top.” Someone had even fabricated a convincing screenshot of me accepting a large “bribe” transfer. My true fans were fighting back, desperately trying to clarify the timeline and debunk the rumors. But the onslaught was too aggressive, fueled by malicious gossip accounts. Public opinion was already turning. I took a deep breath, forcing myself into a state of chilling calm. Did Ashton truly think this would break me? Did he believe he could use my past vulnerabilities and my family to force my surrender? He was utterly naive. He forgot that Vera Lane didn’t reach this level of success through some shady deal; I earned it, one exhausting live stream at a time. The ‘evidence’ he held was just a pathetic security blanket for his own cowardice. I opened the chat with my lawyer, the tapping of my fingers on the screen firm and decisive. “Prepare the cease and desist. Also, gather all the backups of his company’s financials. It’s time for the world to see the real Ashton Cole.”

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The entitled brat had ordered a massive clutch of German cockroach eggs online and deliberately had the package shipped to my local package annex, only to refuse pickup. Three days later, The Hub—my business, my livelihood—was swallowed by a black, scuttling army of insects, resulting in catastrophic damages. I spent a fortune on hazmat cleanup, negotiating compensation with every victim and neighboring business. But the parents, in a move of unbelievable malice, showed up with a fake appraisal, claiming the pests were rare, million-dollar medicinal insects, demanding I pay them for damages. I snapped. We were entangled in a screaming, public war. The next day, the parents united all the neighborhood victims—the people whose homes I was trying to save—and besieged The Hub, live-streaming the ordeal to publicly crucify me. Cornered, stripped of my reputation and my future, I jumped from the rooftop. I was reborn the instant the package was scanned into my inventory. My first action was dialing the father’s number. “Your package? I’ve already delivered it.” 1 On the other end of the line, Asher’s father, Garrett, was silent for a few seconds. “Delivered it? What package?” His tone was irritable, a sharp annoyance at having his Saturday morning sleep-in interrupted by my work. I let a soft, cold laugh escape, my voice perfectly placid. “A very special one. The recipient is your son, Asher.” “I left it on your doorstep.” I hung up, deleted the call record, and promptly blocked the number. In my last life, it was this boy, Asher, who had destroyed everything with one box of cockroach oothecae. He had placed a specific note with his order: “Live Cargo/Perishable. Do not contact. Hold for 72 hours upon arrival.” I was slammed that week. My new assistant, inexperienced and overworked, had done exactly as instructed, placing the unremarkable cardboard box in a back corner. Seventy-two hours later, my package annex became a kingdom of roaches. The sight of it was a living, breathing hellscape. But now, I was back. I was reborn ten minutes after the package containing the “surprise” was scanned. I looked at the plain brown box, and a faint, phantom ache throbbed in the corner of my heart. I pulled on gloves, picked up the box, and walked out of The Hub. I placed it squarely on the welcome mat of Garrett and Melody’s front door and snapped a photo. Then, I nudged the package with my toe—just a gentle half-meter slide—until it rested by the door of the neighbor: Doris Finch. Doris was the one who, in the last life, had been the most venomous during the online attacks, screaming the cruelest things alongside Asher’s parents. She was also notoriously greedy, known for snatching a package if she thought she could get away with it. I knew exactly what that cheap, nosy old woman would do. Having completed my task, I returned to The Hub as if nothing had happened. It was three in the afternoon, the height of the pickup rush. A small figure squeezed through the crowd, his face twisted in a look of malice that was unnerving for a child. It was Asher. He walked up to the counter, stood on his tiptoes, and knocked. “Hey, is my package here? Name’s Asher.” I didn’t look up, continuing to scan codes. “It’s been delivered.” The smug smile on Asher’s face froze. “What? I marked it for pick-up!” “The system flagged it for priority delivery, so I sent it out.” I finally raised my eyes, meeting his with a chilling stare. “Is there a problem?” My intensity unnerved him, but he still bristled. “Where did you send it? I didn’t see it when I got home!” “Your front door. I took a picture.” I showed him the photo I had prepared. In the image, the box sat innocently on his family’s mat. Asher’s face went instantly white. He knew what was in that box. He knew the consequences if that thing hatched on his property. He let out a small, strangled sound, like a cat with its tail stepped on, and bolted for the door. Watching his frantic retreat, the curve of my lips widened. The show had just begun. 2 Less than half an hour later, my phone was ringing off the hook. It was Garrett. He was screaming into the receiver, his voice choked with rage. “Vivian! Where in the hell did you put that package? It’s not on my doorstep! “Did you steal it?” I calmly pulled my phone from my ear and spoke in a monotone. “Mr. Price, you need to provide evidence for slander. I have photo documentation proving my duties were completed. “As for why the package is gone, you should inquire with your neighbors. Or perhaps call the police.” “A picture? A picture is worthless! That package is essential. If it’s lost, I swear to God, you and I are going to have a serious problem!” He was still bellowing when I disconnected the call. The silence was instant, and glorious. Moments later, a black sedan slammed its brakes outside The Hub. Garrett and his wife, Melody, stormed inside, their faces contorted with fury. Garrett, a man whose face was already too wide, pointed a thick finger at my nose. “You little thief! Hand over my son’s package now!” Melody chimed in with her usual passive-aggressive whine. “Tsk, tsk. Such a young girl. Why are your hands so sticky? “It’s just a package. Is it really worth ruining your reputation over a few dollars?” The neighbors and regulars picking up their mail stopped, watching the unfolding scene with curiosity. I ignored their histrionics, slowly wiping down the counter. “I’ll say this one last time: I delivered the package to the designated location, and I have photographic proof. “If you believe I stole it, you are welcome to call the police immediately.” My absolute calm completely enraged them. Garrett slammed his palm onto the counter, making the packages jump. “Call the police? You think I won’t? I’ll smash this whole sorry excuse for a business! “I’m not just calling the cops, I’m going to the corporate HQ! I’ll get your franchise revoked! You’ll never work in this town again!” Melody played her part, turning to the growing crowd to wail. “Everyone, please judge for yourselves! Is there any justice left? “We just lost a package, and instead of helping, she takes this attitude! “These young people today have no morals!” A few uninformed neighbors started to side with them. “Vivian, maybe you should just look again?” “Yeah, sweetie, peace is more profitable than pride.” I looked at the couple, masters of manipulation and false victimhood, a familiar, cold dread in my chest. This was the exact performance they had used last time to drive me to the rooftop. This time, I wouldn’t give them an inch. I put down the cleaning rag, pulled out my phone, and aimed it at them. “You want to cause a scene? Fine. I’ll open a live stream. We can let everyone on the internet watch how you, Mr. Price, are completely losing it over one ‘worthless’ package.” Garrett and Melody’s expressions twisted into shocked confusion. They hadn’t anticipated that move. Just then, Asher slid out of the car, sprinting to his mother’s side, on the verge of tears. “Mom! Stop fighting! We have to find it! We have to find it now!” Melody was too invested in her performance to listen, pushing him away. “Find what? We’re not leaving until she hands it over! “What did you buy that’s so important, Asher?” “I bought… some small toys…” Asher looked at his mother, then at me, unable to meet either of our eyes. His gaze was filled with a chilling blend of pure terror and despair. He knew the time bomb had been ticking for too long. 3 I finally managed to usher Garrett and Melody out. As they left, Garrett jabbed a finger in my direction, his eyes promising retribution. “You haven’t heard the last of this!” I watched them get in their car and peel away, my expression unmoved. I knew this was only the beginning. Sure enough, that evening, the HOA neighborhood chat exploded. Melody, using an anonymous account, spun a vivid tale about the “thieving, black-hearted owner of the package annex” who had stolen her child’s priceless heirloom. She painted me as a greedy, rude criminal, and she posted my photo and The Hub’s address. [The nerve! Stealing a kid’s toys. Some people are just trash.] [She looks so sweet and honest. You never know who you can trust.] *[@Vivian, care to explain yourself?] I was tagged relentlessly. My phone vibrated nonstop. Soon after, the regional manager from the national shipping carrier called, his voice tight with displeasure. “Vivian, what is going on? We have a massive complaint about theft, and they are threatening legal action. This is bad PR. “I don’t care how you do it, but you need to make this go away. Now.” Calmly, I sent the manager the full sequence of events and the photo proof. “Sir, my work was flawless. The customer is making an unreasonable demand. “Delivering a package to the home address is a service we offer. “As for the complaint, I trust the company will draw its own fair conclusions.” The manager went quiet. I knew he didn’t care about the truth; he only cared about stopping the noise. In my past life, this was how I was slowly, deliberately pushed to the edge. But this time, I wouldn’t be their scapegoat. I didn’t offer a single word of defense in the chat. Trying to reason with an angry, mobilized mob is the stupidest thing in the world. Instead, I quietly accessed the feed from the new, high-definition security camera I’d installed near the counter. The footage clearly captured Garrett and Melody’s aggressive screaming, their threats, and my composed response as I requested them to leave. I edited the video, isolating the worst moments, and saved it. Meanwhile, Asher was in a panic. He couldn’t tell his parents the box contained roach eggs. He could only hint that his “toy” was very sensitive and had to be found immediately. He searched the hallways like a frantic animal, ripping through every trash can. His strange behavior, naturally, attracted the attention of the neighbors—especially Doris Finch, the woman who lived directly across the hall. Doris was a known petty thief. She watched Asher’s increasingly deranged searching and grew suspicious. She remembered seeing a plain box outside the Price’s door that morning. It looked unremarkable, so she had scooped it up and taken it home. Could it be a hidden treasure? She hid the box deeper in her closet. She had no idea she was hoarding not a treasure, but a biological weapon about to detonate the entire building. Late that night, I lay awake, waiting. I knew that soon—maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after—the great roach feast that had once consumed my business would elegantly begin, somewhere else.

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