1 After my sister, the golden child of our family, died in an accident, my parents’ grief was a raw, open wound. But I had stumbled upon her anonymous online journal, and I knew the truth: she had faked her own death. I was about to show my parents, to end their suffering, when I overheard my mother’s choked whisper to my father. “The one who should be dead is still here, while the one with a future is gone.” Her voice cracked. “We poured everything into getting her a master’s degree, just waiting for her to help pay for her sister’s goddamn medical bills. What did I do to deserve a vampire for a daughter?” I froze outside their door. The vampire, the one who should be dead—that was me. I was born with cerebral palsy. The doctors told them to let me go. But they refused, my mom and dad, and they clawed their way through hell to raise me. My clumsy, uncoordinated limbs made me a target for bullies at school, and the taunts eventually festered into a crippling anxiety disorder. My medical bills were a black hole that swallowed every dollar they ever earned. We never had a single nice day. I was the anchor dragging this family to the bottom. Staring at their weary backs through the crack in the door, I made a silent promise. You’re right, Mom. The one who should be dead is me. I’ll be good. I’ll go. … Before the end, I looked at my sister’s journal one last time. She had posted an update. Faking my death feels like being reborn. No more digging through the trash for toilet paper just to save a few pennies for my sister’s treatments. So, it was because of me. Of course, it was. A single tear splattered onto the screen, blurring the words into an indistinct smear. I felt a wave of guilt so profound it almost drowned me, but beneath it, there was a strange, sharp sense of relief. She was free. For me, she had lived a life of quiet misery. She never wore new clothes, her sleeves always inches above her wrists, her pants too short. She was a walking collection of hand-me-downs—men’s shirts, women’s blouses, clothes meant for children and the elderly, none of them truly hers. Yet, she would always smile and plead with Mom. “It’s Christmas, can we please get Lily a new coat?” She never asked for a thing for herself. She was an angel of self-sacrifice. On the rare occasions we had meat, she would mimic our parents, carefully picking every lean piece from her plate and placing it in my bowl. She was so thin, a wisp of a girl, yet she carried me on her back all the way to school. Not for a day, not for a week. But for twelve years, through every scorching summer and bitter winter. When other kids called me a cripple, my gentle, quiet sister would transform into a lioness, fighting them with a ferocity that was terrifying to watch. From the day I was diagnosed, the scales of our parents’ love tipped completely in my favor. But Chloe never fought for their attention. She loved me just as much as they did, and she poured everything else she had into her studies. “I’ll get into a great university, Lily,” she’d promise, her eyes shining with determination. “I’m going to make life good for all of us.” To everyone, Chloe was our parents’ pride. She was the single, flickering flame of hope in our broken home. My hand trembled as I typed out a private message to her. “Chloe, thank you for loving me all these years.” “I’m so sorry you were stuck with a sister like me.” “I’m tired. I’m going to a place where I can finally rest.” “Come home, Chloe. Please.” My vision swam with tears, making the touchscreen unresponsive. I wiped it with my sleeve, my fingers clumsy, and closed the app. In my drawer was a bottle of sleeping pills, collected one by one over six long months. Finally, a lethal dose. Just before I swallowed them, I decided to leave two sentences for my parents. A final apology. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry my life dragged you all into the mud.” “I can’t hold on anymore. I have to let go. Please, don’t cry.” I fought to keep my tears from staining the paper. There were a million things I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. This was enough. I placed the note on my nightstand, where they couldn’t miss it. Then, without a second’s hesitation, I swallowed the entire bottle of pills. I pulled the covers over myself, found a comfortable position, and closed my eyes. Goodbye, Mom. Dad. Chloe. Goodbye forever. That night, my soul drifted through our silent apartment. The quiet was finally broken by the sound of the front door opening. “Lily? Are you hungry?” Mom’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she forced a cheerful tone. “I bought some chicken wings. I’ll make them just how you like.” 2 Just like always, she called out towards the room Chloe and I shared before heading straight for the kitchen. Dad was curled up on the sofa, shivering, a nasty flu rattling his chest with every cough. My heart ached looking at him—his hair now more white than black, his face a roadmap of worry, his body thin and frail beneath his tattered clothes. I could still remember when he was the most handsome man in the neighborhood. Mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her expression softening with concern. “You need to get some medicine. This family depends on you. You can’t afford to fall apart.” Dad didn’t open his eyes, just hugged himself tighter. “I’m fine.” He tried to stand, but his legs were weak. He shuffled towards their bedroom. “I’ll just bury myself in blankets. Sweat it out.” He lay down on their lumpy, worn-out mattress and pulled every heavy piece of clothing in the house on top of himself, a makeshift mountain of fabric. He mumbled something so quietly I almost missed it. “That money… is better spent on Lily’s medicine.” He let out a long, shuddering sigh. I floated beside his bed, tears I could no longer physically shed streaming down my face. As he drifted off to sleep, a muffled sob escaped his lips, a sound he tried to bury in his pillow so Mom and I wouldn’t hear. “Chloe… my brilliant, beautiful girl… how could this happen?” His voice was a broken whisper. “God, if you had to take one of my daughters… why did it have to be her?” I reached out to pat his back, but my hand passed right through him. “Dad, it’s okay,” I whispered, my voice lost to the air. “I’m gone now. You and Mom don’t have to suffer anymore. Maybe… maybe Chloe will come home.” He couldn’t hear me. He just lay there, his shoulders shaking with silent, repressed grief. He didn’t stop until Mom came in to tell him dinner was ready. He was a master at hiding his pain; she never suspected he’d been crying. “Not hungry. Just call Lily.” Mom sighed and walked toward my room. Pushing the door open, she saw me tucked under the covers. “Lily, time to eat. I made your favorite chicken wings.” Silence. I didn’t move. She tried again, her patience wearing thin. “Lily?” Still nothing. Suddenly, her frustration boiled over. “Are you listening to me? Or are you dead in there? I slave away for you day in and day out, and this is the thanks I get? Can’t you give me one moment of peace? Must you always be lying in bed like a useless lump?” Her voice rose with every word. “I’m talking to you! Do you hear me? The whole family is falling apart, and all you can do is sleep? It should have been you! Then I could die too, and we’d all finally be free!” The more she yelled, the more she broke. Tears streamed down her face, and she swiped at them angrily with the back of her hand. I rushed forward instinctively to hug her, but my arms closed on empty air. I could only watch, helpless, repeating the words she couldn’t hear. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so, so sorry.” I knew she didn’t hate me. Not really. It was my illness they hated, the relentless burden that had tormented them for twenty-six years. She turned and stalked out of the room, slumping into a chair at our rickety, three-legged dining table to weep. On the table sat three bowls of rice, a small plate with two glistening chicken wings, and a side of homemade pickles. The wings were for me. Mom only ever bought two. At first, the butcher would sneer at her. “Who buys just two chicken wings?” Mom would just offer a tight, embarrassed smile. After a while, he learned about our family’s situation. He never made a comment again. Sometimes, he’d even throw in some scallions and ginger for free. 3 When Chloe was still here, her eyes would practically bulge out of her head with longing for those wings, but she’d always force a smile and say, “You have them, Lily. I don’t really like them.” I asked her once, “Doesn’t it make you sad? That Mom and Dad love me more?” She had laughed. “Of course not. What’s there to be sad about? They give you more when it comes to food and things, sure. But they paid for my education, didn’t they? Getting me through school cost just as much, if not more. So no, I never felt it was unfair.” The memory of her sweet smile was a sharp pain in my chest. If it weren’t for my “vampire disease,” our family could have had a good life. Mom and Dad both worked two jobs—construction during the day, washing dishes at a restaurant at night. Together, they brought in almost five thousand dollars a month. But my physical therapy alone cost two thousand. And that was the cheap option. There were free state-funded programs, but Mom insisted the private clinic had better results. For twenty-six years, rain or shine, she took me there and picked me up. Then there was the anxiety and depression. My therapy sessions were a hundred dollars an hour, three or four times a week. Mom never batted an eye. And the medication on top of that… It all meant that when Chloe went to college, there was no money left for her living expenses. She had to work multiple jobs while studying full-time. Because of me, every single person in my family was trapped in their own private hell. I had tried to end it before. Several times. But each time, they had found me, saved me. This time, thank God, they were too late. I remember when I was little, my grandmother would take a bus for hours from her village to bring us fresh eggs from her farm. She saw how my illness was breaking her daughter, how it was grinding Mom down to nothing. One day, she couldn’t take it anymore. “You have two choices,” she told my mother, her voice trembling with a mixture of love and desperation. “Either you leave that child somewhere, or you leave your husband and remarry. You’re still young! Your life shouldn’t be over just because it’s begun! If you won’t feel sorry for yourself, then I’ll feel sorry for you! You are my flesh and blood!” Mom refused to listen. They had a terrible fight, and after that, my grandmother never visited again. Just like that, my mother lost her own mother, too. My thoughts drifted back to the present. Mom covered the plate of chicken wings, her own appetite gone. Before heading to bed, she stopped at my door. “The food is on the table. If you get hungry, get up and eat it yourself.” No response. This time, she didn’t get angry. She just turned and went to her room. The next morning, Dad’s flu was worse, but he still had to be at the construction site by six. He had no strength left, but he pushed himself anyway. I wanted to scream. I jumped in front of them, a frantic, invisible ghost. “Dad! Mom! Just pull back my blanket! Please! I’m already dead! You don’t have to work yourselves to death anymore! I’m begging you, just look!” Mom glanced at the untouched rice and chicken on the table and yelled towards my room. “Lily, what is this new tantrum? Why didn’t you eat last night? Your father and I are leaving for work. You get up and eat right now. I’ll be back at noon to take you to physical therapy, you hear me?” 4 I waved my arms wildly in front of her face. “Mom, just lift the blanket! I’m gone! You’re free!” Her old flip phone rang, and she paused to answer it. A woman’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Hey, it’s Sarah. I’ve got some good news for you.” My mother’s first instinct was always work. “Is there a job opening?” “No, not that. It’s… well, my friend’s son, he’s thirty-five and not married yet. He’s from a decent family, you know, just an ordinary guy. And I was thinking, with Lily’s condition, it’s not easy for her to find someone. Maybe we could set them up? That way, you and your husband would finally be free of the burden. You could start saving for your retirement. Let’s be honest, as long as Lily is with you, you’ll never have a day of peace. This is a good thing, someone willing to take her off your hands.” The color drained from my mother’s face. For a woman who was always so composed, her voice was pure venom. “You must have a lot of free time to be sticking your nose in my family’s business! Your daughter is the one nobody wants, you bitch! Who do you think you are? Stay the hell out of my life!” She slammed the phone shut, her hands shaking with rage. This wasn’t the first time. People had tried to set me up before. The suitors were always men with mental disabilities, developmental issues, or physical handicaps like my own. As long as a woman has a uterus, she has value, they’d say. She can always be married off. But my parents could never bear the thought of me being mistreated in someone else’s home, so they held on, bearing the unbearable. My heart ached for my mother. I wrapped my arms around her, a useless, spectral hug. Why couldn’t a woman this good have been blessed with two healthy daughters? She turned her anger towards my room. “Lily, for God’s sake, can’t you be more considerate? Stop with these moods! I know I’ve been distracted, but it’s because of your sister! I’ve been out of my mind with grief! Don’t be angry anymore, okay? Or you’ll make me angry, too! I’m leaving for work! And if that food is still on the table when I get back, you’ll have me to answer to!” I stood before her, my ghostly tears flowing freely. She saw nothing. At noon, as precise as an alarm clock, Mom returned. She hurried into the kitchen, shouting as she cooked. “Lily, time for the rehab center! Get ready!” She stir-fried some vegetables with practiced ease, the entire process taking less than five minutes. The rice was already in a thermos from the morning, ready to take with us for me to eat at the center. When she came out and saw last night’s meal still sitting untouched on the table, her temper flared. She stormed into my room, her face a mask of impatience. A flicker of joy went through me. Finally. She was going to find me. “What is wrong with you? Your moods are unbearable! I treat you like a queen, and for what? You ignore me when I talk, you refuse to eat! Are you trying to kill me?” She grabbed my shoulder and started to shake me, her frustration mounting with each movement. “What is it? Lily! Answer me! What are you so angry about this time? Who upset you now? Can’t you have a little mercy on me? I’m exhausted!” She was at her breaking point. Overwhelmed with anger and despair, she slapped my backside twice over the blankets. “Talk to me! I said, talk to me, do you hear?!” Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged. “Mom! Mom! Lily’s trying to kill herself! Stop her!” A familiar, frantic voice cut through the air. Thank God. Chloe was back. Mom froze, thunderstruck, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at my sister. Chloe didn’t have time to explain. She rushed to pull back my blankets, and in that instant, the world stopped for them both.

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1 Fresh out of college, I had an idea. “Let’s all rent a place together,” I suggested to my three roommates. The apartment I found was a steal—close to my new job, surprisingly cheap, and a world away from the cramped suburban box they were currently renting. It was a massive upgrade. For three months, everything was perfect. We were a happy little family. Then one day, I came home from work early and heard them talking in the living room. “I looked it up,” one of them said, her voice sharp with excitement. “Rent in this neighborhood is at least five grand a month. We’re paying two thousand for the whole place. What if we rent out the master bedroom for two grand? Then our three rooms would basically be free.” “Done,” another voice snapped. “Why does Anna get the master suite anyway? So what if she covers the utilities? How much can that possibly be?” “I’m so sick of her holier-than-thou attitude,” the third one chimed in with a spiteful laugh. “The thought of her, homeless and out on the street… I could die laughing!” I smiled to myself on the other side of the door. You want to see me on the street? Too bad for them. I’m the owner. … The voices inside continued, blissfully unaware. “Anyway, the lease is up in three days. We just tell her we’re not renewing with her.” “Haha, serves her right. Always bossing us around, acting like she owns the place.” “And that whole story about it being her ‘relative’s apartment,’ and that’s why it’s so cheap and we have to ‘take care of it’? Who buys that crap?” “I already contacted the landlord. He said we can have it for the next term, same price.” Just like that, my fate was decided. They seemed to have forgotten everything. How, fresh out of college, they were too broke to afford anything near the city. How they were crammed into a tiny place in the far-off suburbs, waking up at four in the morning for a grueling three-hour commute of buses and trains. It was me who couldn’t stand to see them suffer. It was me who lied, saying a relative had a cheap place available, and invited them to move in. The truth? This apartment was a graduation gift from my parents. A four-bedroom, two-bath prime piece of real estate right next to my office. A five-minute walk to work. I could have rented it out in a heartbeat. But my parents always taught me to be discreet about our wealth. So I never told them I was the owner. I charged them a token rent of five hundred dollars each and covered all the utilities and building fees myself. And this was my reward. My kindness, thrown back in my face like trash. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. The laughter in the room died instantly. The air went still. Lily was the first to recover, stretching her lips into a fake, bright smile. “Anna! You’re home early. Have you eaten? We made some pasta, come have some.” She pulled me into a chair at the dining table. After clearing her throat, she began her little performance. “So, Anna… the landlord called. He was asking if we’re planning to renew the lease.” I just slurped my pasta, saying nothing. She watched my face, trying to read my expression, before continuing. “We’ve decided not to.” My hand paused. I looked up, feigning confusion. “We found a cheaper place,” she said, her eyes darting away from mine. “You only wanted to room with us because you couldn’t afford the whole rent on your own, right? So now that we’re leaving, you’ll probably move out too, won’t you?” My voice was flat. “It’s fine. If you guys leave, I’ll just take over the whole lease. I finished a big project at work, so I’m getting a nice bonus.” Lily’s smile faltered. “But… it’s such a big place for one person. Isn’t that a waste? Listen to me, you should find a small studio. You’d save so much money.” If I hadn’t heard their little scheme with my own ears, I might have actually believed she was concerned about me. “I’m used to it here,” I said simply. “Too lazy to move.” “Anna!” Jenna, who had been silent until now, finally exploded. She slammed her fork down on the table. “I was trying to be nice, but you’re just not getting the hint!” “So let me spell it out for you. We don’t want to live with you anymore. We want you to move out on your own, so don’t force us to get ugly about it!” I stared at her, my expression cold. “I found this apartment. I signed the contract. Why should I be the one to leave just because you say so?” Ava, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke. “Anna, living with you… it’s been really difficult. If we keep this up, I’m afraid we won’t even be friends anymore.” Ava was supposed to be my best friend. Her background was tough. Her mom left right after she was born, and her father was a gambling addict who’d beat her when he was drunk. She fought tooth and nail to get into college, but her dad wanted to marry her off to some old creep for cash. I was the one who helped her escape in the middle of the night, who walked her through applying for student loans, who split my allowance with her for four years so she could get by. After graduation, I couldn’t bear the thought of her tiny frame being crushed on the subway every day. That’s why I suggested we live together. I even invited the other two, just so she wouldn’t feel like she was accepting my charity. Ava bit her lip, her eyes pleading. “You always wanted what was best for me. Just agree to move out this one time. We can still be best friends.” I looked at her, my face a blank mask. Then, I smiled. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll move.” Their faces lit up. They started babbling about how we’d still be great friends, even after I was gone. I didn’t want to hear another word. I turned and walked back to my room. The moment the door clicked shut, I pulled out my phone and dialed my property manager, Mr. Henderson. “The rent is going up to six thousand a month.” It didn’t take long for a knock to sound on my door. I opened it to find the three of them standing there, their faces contorted with rage. Jenna shoved me hard. “You called the landlord and told him to raise the rent, didn’t you!” My back hit the corner of a desk, and a sharp pain shot through me. Ava’s eyes were red. “How about this,” she said, her voice laced with a false sense of compromise. “You go talk to your ‘relative’ and get him to keep the rent at two thousand. And you give us the master bedroom. If you do that, we’ll still be willing to live with you.” I crossed my arms, looking at her coldly. “And where would I sleep?” “On the couch, obviously,” Lily answered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “So I pay rent to sleep on the couch?” “Get it through your head,” Jenna sneered. “You’re the one begging to stay with us. You should be grateful we’re even offering you the couch.” Ava linked her arm through mine, her tone sickeningly sweet. “We’re best friends, Anna. Of course I’m looking out for you.” “I’ve already found you a new place. It’s fully furnished, you can move in right away. And the best part? It’s only thirty feet from the office. Perfect for a workaholic like you.” “Where?” She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. “Rex’s doghouse.” “It’s right by the security guard’s booth at the office. How’s that for a short commute? And in the winter, Rex can keep your bed warm for free!” Jenna snickered. “Wow, Ava, and you call yourself her best friend? Sending her to a doghouse, that’s just cold! But hey…” Her eyes landed on me, a malicious grin spreading across her face. “Don’t forget to pay Ava a finder’s fee, Anna! A move-in ready place like that is hard to come by, hahaha!” Ava waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s nothing. What are friends for?” I watched their little performance, my blood turning to ice. I didn’t say a word. Ava’s face suddenly turned serious. “Anna, living with you has been exhausting. You’re such a control freak. We can’t hang anything on the walls, we can’t decorate our own rooms, you even nag us if a single hair falls on the floor. We can’t take it anymore.” “You’ve practically given me depression. So, you should probably pay our rent for the next quarter. Consider it compensation for our emotional distress.” I almost laughed out loud. I didn’t want them putting things on the walls because the latex paint was a custom color; if it was damaged, it would be impossible to match perfectly. I didn’t want them “decorating” because their brilliant idea was to knock down a load-bearing wall to make their room bigger. And I complained about the hair because they never, ever cleaned the drain after showering. Their hair had clogged the pipes so badly it flooded the apartment below us, and I had to secretly pay a fortune to sort it out. In the six months they’d lived here, the money I’d spent fixing their messes and covering costs far exceeded the pittance they paid in rent. And now, they wanted me to pay them for emotional distress. Hilarious. “Either you move out, or I do and you can pay the full six thousand a month yourselves.” With that, I slammed the door in their faces. From the other side, I heard their furious shouts. “Anna, you’re pushing your luck!” “Don’t make us do something you’ll regret!” The next day, I didn’t get home from work until eleven at night. When I reached my front door, I froze. My belongings were piled in the hallway like a heap of garbage. I tried my key code again and again, but the door wouldn’t open. They had changed the lock. A hot wave of fury washed over me. I pulled out my phone and called my dad. “Dad, can you call a courier service? I need something delivered here, right now…” After hanging up, I started pounding on the door. The loud bangs echoed through the quiet hallway. It didn’t take long for doors to open. Neighbors, annoyed by the noise, poked their heads out, demanding to know what was going on. Someone even called security. As a crowd gathered, the door finally clicked open. Jenna stood there in her pajamas, a face mask on, frowning. “What the hell are you screaming about? I’m trying to get my beauty sleep.” I clenched my fists, forcing my voice to stay even. I pointed to the mountain of my things on the floor. “What gives you the right to throw my stuff out?” Ava appeared behind her, casting a timid glance in my direction. “Anna, we didn’t have a choice… Please, just give us a break…” She then shot a look at Lily. Lily immediately understood. She turned to the growing crowd of neighbors and the security guard, her voice loud and dramatic. “Uncles, aunts, everyone, please, be the judge! We all rent this apartment together, and she brings different men home every single night! The noises they make… the things they do… it’s so loud we can’t get any sleep.” She turned back to me, her eyes pleading. “We know you have a… special kind of job, that you have to work at night, and we don’t judge you for it. But we have to get up early for work! Please, we’re begging you, find somewhere else to live.” The moment the words left her mouth, the way the neighbors looked at me changed. Their curiosity turned to disgust, as if I were something filthy. Ava bowed deeply to the crowd, her face a mask of apology. “We’re so sorry to disturb you all. Her lease is up, and we already told her we wouldn’t be renewing with her. The landlord doesn’t want her here either. But she just refuses to leave. We had no other choice… We’re truly sorry for waking everyone.” Whispers rippled through the crowd. “She looks like such a nice girl, I can’t believe she does that…” “No wonder she comes home so late every night…” “How unlucky to live on the same floor as her!” A middle-aged woman pointed a finger at me, her voice shrill with anger. “Was it you who was blasting music and jumping around the other night? The bass was shaking my whole apartment! I didn’t get a wink of sleep!” I was out of town on a business trip all last week. I had only just gotten back yesterday. A flicker of guilt crossed Jenna’s face, but she quickly pointed at me. “Yes! That was her!” Another neighbor stepped forward. “And was it your long hair that clogged the drains and flooded my bathroom downstairs?” Ava, the one with the longest hair who never cleaned the drain, froze for a second before turning to me with a frown. “Anna, I’ve told you so many times to clean your hair out of the shower. Why don’t you ever listen?” “Was she the one who wanted to knock down a load-bearing wall? She nearly turned the whole building into a death trap!” Lily, who had dreamed of expanding her room by smashing through a wall, just nodded grimly. “That’s right, it was her! We tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen!” The neighbors’ anger was fully ignited. “She’s a menace! Get her out of our building!” “Security! Throw her out!” “Call the police! Get her arrested!” The security guard, seeing the mob mentality taking over, grabbed my arm and started to pull me away. I was furious, desperate. “I’m the owner of this apartment!” I yelled. “You have no right to throw me out!” Jenna let out a derisive snort. “If you’re the owner, then I’m the Queen of England!” Ava looked at me with pity. “Anna, I’ve already called the landlord. He’s on his way. If you leave now, you can still keep a little dignity. It’s going to be much worse when he gets here and kicks you out himself.” I was shaking with rage. “Fine! Get your ‘landlord’ here! I’d love to see how he plans on kicking me out of my own home!” “Who’s looking for me?” I turned to see a blond punk, radiating cheap arrogance, swaggering through the crowd. “I’m the landlord. You got a problem?” he asked, his eyes raking over me dismissively. “Where’s Mr. Henderson?” I demanded, frowning. My property had always been managed by him, and he was nothing but professional. “So you did your homework, huh? You even know my uncle’s name. Well, I’ll tell you. My uncle’s out of town. This place,” he jabbed a thumb at my apartment, “is my responsibility now.” He pointed a finger in my face. “I’ve heard all about you from these lovely ladies. I don’t rent my property to filthy, immoral people like you! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll grab your junk and get lost!” I stared him down. “Do you even know whose name is on the property deed? And you have the nerve to tell me to get lost?” “It’s my uncle’s place, so of course his name is on the deed! Whose else would it be? Yours?” the punk scoffed. Ava stepped forward. “Anna, just stop. The landlord is here. It’s over.” The punk ignored me, strutting into the apartment. He did a quick tour and came back out, his face twisted in a snarl. “Hey! Where’s that big Lego set that was on the TV stand? Did you steal it?” “That was a limited edition set! Worth twenty thousand dollars! You better hand it over right now!” That Lego set? My little niece loved it when she visited last week, so I gave it to her. “It was my property. Do I need your permission to give away my own things?” “Your property? That belongs to the landlord… my uncle!” the punk sputtered, practically hopping with fake rage. Lily immediately jumped in to support him. “We can vouch for that! That Lego set has been there since we moved in. How could it be yours? It obviously belongs to the landlord!” Ava frowned. “Anna, you should really try to get it back. Stealing is a crime. If the landlord calls the police, you’ll be in serious trouble.” I watched them, a symphony of lies, and felt a wave of disgusted disbelief. “Then call the police,” I said. My calm indifference was the final straw. “You bitch! Stealing and you’re still this arrogant!” His hand flew out, and a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. A loud smack echoed in the hallway. My ears rang, and I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Ava stepped in, stopping the punk from hitting me again. “Let it go, let it go. It’s probably hard to get back something you’ve already given away. Anna, why don’t you just pay for it? Since the landlord says it’s worth twenty thousand, just give him the money. You… you make money easily, right? A little sum like that is nothing to you. Just pay him and this will all be over.” I had to laugh. The Lego set looked impressive, but it was a model kit I bought for three hundred dollars. It all clicked into place. The glances between them and this punk. This was a setup. They were in this together, trying to extort money from me. Seeing my lack of reaction, the punk shoved me again. “Hey! Did you hear me? Pay up! Or I’m calling the cops and having you thrown in jail for a few years!” “I told you, it was my property!” “Goddamn it, you just don’t learn!” he snarled, raising his hand to slap me again. He hit me so hard I stumbled and fell, my vision swimming with black spots. Jenna’s eyes darted around, then she pointed at my luggage. “She’s a thief! I better check my things, make sure she didn’t steal anything of mine!” She crouched down and started rummaging through my suitcase. She pulled out a gold necklace, a flash of envy in her eyes. She held it up for everyone to see. “Oh my god! My gold necklace! I’ve been looking for this for ages! I can’t believe it was in your suitcase!” “Ava, Lily! Come look! I bet she stole a ton of our stuff!” At her words, Lily’s eyes lit up, and she joined the plunder. Like vultures, they tore through my belongings, pulling out jewelry and brand-name makeup, claiming each item as their own and stuffing them into their pockets. The other neighbors, seeing this, started to get restless. Ava smiled sweetly at the crowd. “Uncles, aunts, maybe you should all have a look too. See if she’s taken anything of yours.” That was all it took. The crowd swarmed forward like a plague of locusts. CRASH! The trophy I won in a college competition was knocked to the floor and shattered. RIIIP! The sweater my mother had hand-knitted for me was torn apart. My down jacket was slashed open, and feathers filled the air like a bizarre snowstorm. I even saw a greasy-looking man pick up a pair of my underwear, take a deep, disturbing sniff, and shove it into his pocket. “Stop! All of you, stop!” I screamed and lunged forward, only to be shoved back to the ground. Ava stood over me, a look of pure, innocent malice on her face. “You know,” she said conversationally, “I wonder if she’s hiding the rest of the stolen goods on her person.” Every eye in the hallway swiveled to me. The blond punk licked his lips. “Strip her! Let’s see what she’s hiding under there!” “You touch me,” I snarled, “and I swear I will make you regret it for the rest of your life!” “Ooh, I’m so scared,” he mocked. “Let’s see what you’re gonna do.” He reached for the collar of my shirt. I fought back with everything I had, but Jenna and Lily pinned my arms and legs down. Ava raised her phone, capturing me at my most broken and helpless. She mouthed two words at me, a silent, vicious curse. You. Deserve. This. In that moment, a tidal wave of regret crashed over me. I had invited these wolves into my home.

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We moved into our new home when my daughter, Lily, was just a year old. The woman downstairs, Mrs. Gable, warned me on the very first day. She had a nervous condition, she said, and I’d better keep my child in line. For five years, I covered our floors in soundproofing mats and lived our lives in silent mode. But every day, she’d take to the building’s group chat to tear me down, claiming my daughter’s noise was giving her a heart attack. The week I took Lily to visit my mother, she escalated, tagging everyone in the chat: “Listen to that! It’s her apartment again!! The crying is endless. Any more of this, and I’m calling the police!” I ignored her. Instead, I took the five years of evidence I had painstakingly collected and filed a lawsuit. On the day of the hearing, the judge asked my five-year-old daughter, “Little girl, do you cry every day at home?” Lily looked at me, then slowly raised her small hands and answered in sign language: “Your Honor, I can’t speak.” 1 My name is Kate, and I’m a freelance translator working from home. When our daughter, Lily, turned one, my husband Mark and I bought this apartment on the twelfth floor. The day we moved in, Mrs. Gable from 1101 was at our door. She was in her fifties, dressed in a tasteful dark dress, her hair pinned up meticulously. But there was a persistent irritation etched into the lines around her eyes. “You’re the new ones?” She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on Lily for a moment. I smiled and offered her a small gift basket we’d picked up from a local market. “Yes, that’s us. It’s so nice to meet you, we’re looking forward to being neighbors.” “I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, her tone sinking as she took the basket. “But there’s something you need to understand. I have a nervous condition and a bad heart. I can’t tolerate any noise.” She pointed a sharp finger at her ceiling—our floor. “I get that you have a child, but you can’t let her run around. No loud noises. If you trigger one of my episodes, you’ll be sorry.” Her tone was not a request; it was a command. Holding Lily, I felt a knot form in my stomach. All I could do was stammer out a reply. “We’ll… we’ll be careful.” Only then did Mrs. Gable nod, satisfied, and turn to leave. Watching her walk away, I felt a sense of dread. Mark came over, his brow furrowed. “What’s her problem? Who talks to people like that?” “Let it go,” I said, trying to soothe him as much as myself. “It’s better to keep the peace. We’ll just have to be extra quiet.” For the sake of being “careful,” I lined our floors with the thickest, most expensive soundproofing mats I could find. When Lily started walking, the first thing I taught her was to tiptoe. I told her a sick grandma lived downstairs, and we were her guardian angels, sworn to protect her with our quiet. Lily, bless her heart, was a quick learner. She moved with the silent grace of a kitten. She never ran in the living room. Her toys were soft plushies and wooden blocks. Anything that made a sound or could roll across the floor was packed away. The television was never on; Mark and I got used to wearing headphones. Our home was forced into silent mode. I thought that would be enough. I thought we could finally have peace. I was wrong. Mrs. Gable’s complaints never stopped. At first, it was, “Kate, dear, were you moving furniture last night? There was a loud thud that sent my heart leaping into my throat.” I racked my brain. The night before, around seven, Lily had accidentally dropped a picture book. “Did your daughter have a ball in the house yesterday? I’m telling you, my blood pressure shot through the roof.” We didn’t even own a ball. I was about to explain, but Mrs. Gable wouldn’t hear it. She clutched her chest, looking like she might collapse at any moment. “Don’t even bother. I can’t listen to it. My body just can’t take the stress.” She wasn’t here to talk; she was here to accuse. The words died in my throat. Soon, she moved her campaign from my doorstep to the building’s group chat. “@Apartment 1201, can you please control your child? She’s been running around since five this morning. Does anyone else want to get some sleep?” She followed it with a photo of herself lying on the sofa, a bottle of heart pills artfully placed on the end table. I checked my phone. It was seven o’clock. I immediately replied in the chat: “Mrs. Gable, Lily was asleep until six. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” She replied instantly: “Mistaken? My ears are the only proof I need! The noise from your apartment is like an earthquake! Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re bullying a poor old woman!” Other residents, oblivious to the truth, started chiming in. “Having kids upstairs can be tough. Let’s all try to be understanding.” “Yeah, Kate, an old woman’s health is important. Maybe just try to keep it down a bit.” “It is a little early for that much noise.” The wave of well-meaning but misguided advice left me speechless and cornered. From that day on, I stopped explaining. Instead, I started documenting. I set my phone camera to timestamp every photo. I recorded everything Lily did. When she woke up, when we left the apartment, when she was sitting quietly playing with blocks, when she went to bed. Whenever Mrs. Gable launched an attack in the group chat, I would send a short video as proof. The only sound in the videos was the soft tapping of my keyboard. When Mark returned from a business trip and saw me organizing my files, he put his hand over mine. “Kate, what are you doing? We’re living like criminals in our own home. I’m going down there to talk to her.” I stopped him, shaking my head. “It won’t do any good. It will only make her worse. She doesn’t want quiet. She wants attention, she wants to be the victim.” I pointed to the thick binder on the table, filled with printed chat logs and my daily photo records. “You can’t reason with someone like her.” Mark fell silent. He sighed and pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” He was right. It was exhausting. But for my daughter, for the sake of a peaceful life, I thought it was a price worth paying. But some people are never satisfied. When Lily turned three, Mrs. Gable’s war escalated. She was no longer content with verbal assaults in the group chat. She began a physical one. Anytime she imagined a noise from upstairs—even if it was just me walking from the living room to the bedroom—she would grab a mop handle, or some other long pole, and violently jab it into her ceiling. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. The sound was a dull, heavy blow that made Lily flinch every time. More than once, the pounding jolted her awake from her nap. She wouldn’t cry out, just stare at me with wide, terrified eyes, her small body trembling. Who could stand to see their child tormented like this? In that instant, my rationality shattered. Shaking with rage, I stormed downstairs and hammered on the door of 1101. Mrs. Gable opened it, a look of smug satisfaction on her face when she saw it was me. “Well, look who it is! Perfect timing! I was just about to come up and give you a piece of my mind! Is your apartment ever quiet?” “Mrs. Gable, you’re banging on the ceiling! You’re terrifying my daughter! Can’t we just talk about this like adults?” My voice trembled with a mixture of anger and tears. She scoffed, planting her hands on her hips. “Banging? I’m giving you a warning! Your place sounds like a construction zone, and I’m not allowed to react? Let me tell you something. You keep making noise, and I’ll keep banging. Every single day. Let’s see who breaks first!” With that, she slammed the door in my face. I stood there, a ringing in my ears. Through the door, I could faintly hear her complaining to her husband, her voice dripping with triumph. “Can you believe the nerve of that woman from 1201? Coming down here to confront me! Can’t control her own kid, and she has the audacity to blame me!” I went back to our apartment and scooped up the still-trembling Lily, stroking her back gently. The tears I had been holding back finally fell. Tears for my terrified daughter, and tears for my own years of spineless tolerance. I whispered to her, and to myself. Don’t be afraid, baby. Mama will protect you. And this time, I mean it. I bought a decibel meter. I started consulting with legal aid. I digitized all my records, organizing everything meticulously. Every statement she made in the group chat was screenshotted and saved. Every time she pounded on the ceiling, I recorded it on my phone. I logged the date, the time, and what was actually happening in our apartment at that moment. I knew that one day, all of it would matter. Before I knew it, Lily was five. Five years is long enough to get used to anything. I was used to tiptoeing, to the perpetual silence of our home, to Mrs. Gable’s daily one-woman drama in the group chat. Every day, she’d perform her “imminent heart attack” routine, accusing us of imaginary crimes. Sometimes it was “running,” other times “moving furniture,” and once, bizarrely, “the sound of chopping meat in the middle of the night.” I had long since given up trying to defend myself. I just silently took my screenshots, saved them, and filed them away. In five years, my evidence folder had grown to fill three external hard drives. Mark, watching me grow more and more withdrawn, pleaded with me more than once. “Why don’t we just sell? We can find another place. A top-floor apartment, or a ground-floor one.” “If this continues,” he said, his voice laced with worry, “I’m afraid you’re going to have a breakdown.” I shook my head. “Why should we be the ones to leave? We’ve done nothing wrong.” I looked over at Lily, reading quietly in a corner. She was growing up. Unable to speak, her eyes were more expressive, more perceptive than those of other children. She was too quiet. Heartbreakingly so. I couldn’t back down. I couldn’t let her grow up thinking that the only response to bullying was to run and hide. Kindness has its limits. Patience has an expiration date. One Friday, I packed our bags. I was taking Lily to my mom’s for a week. Mark was conveniently away on business. The apartment would be empty. Before leaving, I gave him instructions for the smart home system. “Honey, while we’re gone, can you set the lights to turn on and off on our usual schedule?” Mark paused, then a look of understanding dawned on his face. “You’re planning to…” “It’s time to set a trap,” I finished for him. He looked at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resolute support. “Okay. Whatever you need, I’m with you all the way.” With that, Lily and I slipped out of the building, unseen. The first day at my mom’s was quiet. The second day, Mrs. Gable fired her opening salvo in the group chat. “@Everyone, 1201 is at it again! Raising hell first thing in the morning! She’s going to be the death of me!” The time stamp was 7:30 AM. At that exact moment, Lily and I were taking a peaceful walk in the park near my mother’s house. I looked at my phone and said nothing. Someone in the group tried to placate her: “Take it easy, Mrs. Gable.” “Take it easy? How can I? You don’t live under her. You have no idea how loud it is! It’s unbearable!” The third day, the fourth. Mrs. Gable’s performance grew more and more elaborate. She started posting random audio clips of noise she’d found online. “Listen to this! This is what I recorded from my ceiling! A ball bouncing! Right over my head!” The audio was a mess of static and muffled thuds, its origin impossible to identify. On the fifth day, she reached her grand finale. At ten o’clock at night, she tagged everyone in the building. “Listen to that! It’s her apartment again!! That child… crying nonstop! Is this child abuse? If this keeps up, I’m calling the police!” My hand clenched around my phone, my knuckles turning white. My mother, seeing the look on my face, asked, “What is it?” I handed her the phone. Her face flushed with anger. “That wicked old hag! How dare she say that about Lily? Our Lily can’t even make a sound when she cries!” She was right. Mrs. Gable’s claim of “endless crying” was an impossibility. Due to a congenital condition with her vocal cords, Lily had never been able to make a vocal sound. I never wanted her to be treated differently or looked at with pity. So, outside of our immediate family, no one knew. I took a deep breath, forcing down the inferno of rage in my chest. I calmly screenshotted the message, saved it, and tagged it: “The Final Piece.” Then, I made a call. It was to the legal aid hotline I had consulted more times than I could count. “Hello,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m ready. I want to sue.”

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The first time I fell in love, my best friend told me, “If a guy’s a player, just get a new one.” I took her advice to heart. My first boyfriend wasn’t exactly faithful—he had this inseparable “girl-bro” always hanging around. So I found another one. My second boyfriend wasn’t great either—he practically lived in bars, and his phone was a graveyard of pretty girls’ numbers. So I found another one. The third was still hung up on his old flame, a girl he could never forget. Just as I was about to start the hunt for number four, my best friend kicked down my door and screamed at me, her voice cracking with desperation. “The whole point of ‘get a new one’ is that you DUMP the old one first!” I just stared at her blankly. “Oh. Well, which one do you want? I can give you one.” 1. I’m a simple girl. Always have been. Growing up, I did what my parents told me. Now that I’m older, I do what my best friend, Zoe, tells me. My life has been a straight line of studying and exams. So, when I finally got into college, I decided it was time to spread my wings. Challenge myself. Get a boyfriend. I inherited my parents’ good looks, so I wasn’t exactly lacking in that department, but I had zero idea what to look for in a guy. For that, I consulted the expert: Zoe. She was trying on a new dress in front of the mirror, casually imparting all her wisdom. “Guys are like dogs, Thea. You’re too nice to them, and they don’t know what to do with it.” “The best way to handle them is to keep them on their toes. A little pushback, then a little affection.” “Oh, and don’t ever try to change a guy. If he’s a player, just replace him. Keep replacing them until you find one you like.” I sat on a small stool, dutifully taking notes and nodding thoughtfully. I sort of got it, but maybe not completely. If you’re not satisfied, replace him. And so, just as I was getting ready to find my fourth replacement, my first one found me. He cornered me, his voice tight with anger. “Thea! Who are those two guys? Why are they telling everyone you’re their girlfriend?!” 2. Liam was gorgeous. That was the first rule Zoe taught me. “A guy has to be hot. If he’s not, you’ll lose your appetite just looking at him.” I took that to heart. I met Liam at freshman orientation. He was a popular senior in my major, on stage sharing his experiences. I was sitting in the front row, and I was probably the only girl there actually listening to his speech instead of just drooling over him. So, after the event, he came right up to me and asked for my number. He started texting me constantly, checking in, walking me back to my dorm after class. On weekends, he’d take me shopping off-campus, to the movies, out to dinner. He’d bring me bubble tea and snacks when I was stressed from studying. He even bought me a ridiculously expensive necklace. For the first eighteen years of my life, my world had been a placid pond. Liam was the first stone to ever make a ripple. So when he asked me to be his girlfriend, I said yes. What I didn’t expect was that after we got together, I’d discover he had a best girl friend who was practically attached to his hip. On one of our dates, Liam’s “girl-bro” showed up uninvited. She slung an arm around his shoulder like they were buddies and winked at me. “The girlfriend won’t mind, right? Me and Liam go way back. We’re totally platonic!” Liam just sighed, but he was indulgent. “Thea’s super understanding. She doesn’t get hung up on stuff like this.” I just smiled, watching how close they were. I remembered Zoe telling me that some things were only for a boyfriend and girlfriend. So… were they a couple? What did that make me? The other woman? For our one-month anniversary, Liam took me to an amusement park. We were having a great day, mostly because his girl-bro, Tanya, was nowhere in sight. But as dusk fell and we headed for the Ferris wheel, she popped up like a weed. She had that same overly casual look on her face as she linked her arm through Liam’s. “Liam! What a coincidence! You’re here too?” He smiled at her. “Tanya? What are you doing here? Did you come by yourself?” “Yup!” she said, her voice tinged with something sour. “You know me, I can’t stand hanging out with other girls. They’re so much drama, and the guys were all busy today.” They stood there chatting as if I didn’t exist, as if I were just a stranger passing by. Finally, Liam seemed to remember me, though there wasn’t a hint of apology on his face. “Thea, Tanya’s here by herself. Why don’t we let her join us?” At that, Tanya finally looked at me, plastering a look of regret on her face. “Oh! The girlfriend! I didn’t even see you there.” “You’re not mad, are you?” Tanya let out a little hiss. “Liam and I are just friends. You really don’t need to be so jealous about everything.” I hadn’t even said a word, and she was already painting me as the crazy, jealous girlfriend. I smiled sweetly and shook my head. “It’s fine. I know you don’t get along with other girls. The more the merrier.” Tanya’s expression flickered, as if she could tell I was being passive-aggressive, but Liam, bless his heart, completely missed it. He just thought I was being sweet and understanding. When we got to the Ferris wheel, each car only had room for two. Tanya, still clinging to Liam’s arm, chattered away as they both climbed into a car together. Only after they were seated did they seem to remember I existed, casting apologetic looks my way. “Sorry, girlfriend! We just got caught up talking,” Tanya said, slapping her forehead. “Hey, how about you and Liam ride the next one together?” Liam looked conflicted. “Don’t be mad, Thea. I’ll come find you right after.” I watched the Ferris wheel begin to rise, a quiet tsk escaping my lips. This was so much trouble. I never thought my first relationship would die so quickly. I realized I didn’t like Liam that much anymore. In my mind, Zoe’s words played on a loop. “Don’t try to change a guy. If he’s no good, just replace him.” So, I found a second one. 3. After the amusement park disaster, I stopped seeing Liam. Instead, I went with Zoe to a bar. I’d never been to one before, and the novelty of it all was exciting. It was there that I met my second boyfriend. Finn. He was beautiful, with a head of messy blond curls. When I saw him, he was on stage with a guitar, singing his heart out. The girls in the crowd were screaming for him, but Zoe was unimpressed. She raised her glass with a smirk. “See that? That’s the kind of guy you want. Hot, talented, the kind of guy who looks good on your arm.” I scribbled her words down in my notebook, completely missing what she said next. “But a guy like that? Fun for a fling, maybe. But he’s definitely a player.” So after the set, I intercepted Finn as he was leaving and asked for his number. He studied me for a long moment before a slow smile spread across his face. “You look like a good girl. What are you doing in a place like this?” He was pretty sharp, but Zoe said love was a strange and mysterious thing. So what if I was a good girl? Didn’t good girls deserve love too? After I got his number, I texted him every day. Good morning, good night. Reminders to wear a jacket when it was cold and drink water when it was hot. I wasn’t so much a potential girlfriend as I was his personal assistant. But for some reason, Finn seemed to love it. We somehow stumbled into a relationship. After we got together, I spent almost all my free time with him. He seemed to have a lot of it, and he was incredibly generous, covering all my expenses and taking a strange delight in dragging me on shopping sprees. But Finn also had a lot of friends. So many that there wasn’t a single person in the bar who didn’t know him. When he started taking me around to different clubs, I started getting some unfriendly looks. “Well, well. Look who’s in a relationship,” a woman with fiery red hair said, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. She blew a cloud of smoke in my direction. Finn just grinned and slung an arm around my shoulder. “What’s wrong, Sasha? Jealous?” Sasha rolled her eyes, but a smile played on her lips. “Get over yourself. If I got jealous over you, I’d have died of acid reflux by now.” Her dismissive gaze raked over me, ending in a sneer. “Wow, a good girl. Since when did your taste change?” “Guess you get tired of spicy and decide to try a salad,” Finn shot back, turning to me. “Thea’s great. She never gets jealous, right?” Just like I did with Liam, I gave him a gentle, serene smile. “Of course. It makes me happy to see you have so many friends.” Sasha rolled her eyes again and shoved her phone in his face. “Two of my friends want your number. You gonna add them or what?” Finn didn’t move. He just looked at me. “What do you think? Should I?” I had no idea what he wanted me to say. Zoe never covered this. When faced with a situation I didn’t understand, I tended to give noncommittal answers. So I blinked. “It’s up to you. Whatever you want.” My expression was perfectly innocent, my tone completely neutral, but for some reason, Finn looked pissed. His face went cold as he took out his phone, added the two contacts, and then shoved it back in his pocket. Sasha’s smirk deepened. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground. “Huh. And here I thought you’d found the one. Guess not.” Finn didn’t say anything. He just grabbed my hand, led me out of the bar, and dropped me off at my dorm. I didn’t understand what had just happened, so I went to consult Zoe again. She was lounging in a slinky dress, applying lipstick. After hearing my story, she burst out laughing. “You idiot! Your boyfriend is a total player! I suggest you find a chance to check his phone.” “If he’s trash, don’t get emotional, don’t cry about it. Just get out,” Zoe said, pursing her lips. “Your time is precious. Don’t waste it on guys like him.” She turned to me, her expression serious. “Thea, a guy can be bad, but he can’t be trash.” “You remember what I told you, right?” I nodded firmly. “I know. If a guy’s no good, replace him.” “Exactly,” Zoe said, relieved. “And remember, no getting all mushy and losing your head. If there’s a problem, you replace him!” She had more faith in me than anyone. I barely knew what I was looking for in a boyfriend, and she was already worried I was going to turn into a hopeless romantic. How wonderful. So, the next time Finn asked me to go to a bar with him, I kept Zoe’s words in mind. It was easy to get Finn to drink, especially when pretty girls were constantly coming over to buy him shots and ask for his number. When he was sufficiently drunk and laughing with a girl from the next table, I managed to swipe his phone. His passcode was easy to guess. I might be clueless about love, but I was top of my class for a reason. I opened his texts and scrolled for five minutes before quietly putting the phone back. My eyes were burning. The disgusting messages, the photos from countless girls… I couldn’t even find the end of it. He was texting this many people every day. I finally understood what Zoe meant. If he’s trash, don’t get emotional. Just get out. As we were leaving the bar, I tugged on his sleeve. He stopped, looking down at me with a lazy smile. “What’s up? That was all for show back there, don’t worry about it.” I nodded, then said seriously, “Finn, I don’t think we should hang out anymore.” My words seemed to sober him up instantly. He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? Because I added those girls? Or because I was drinking with someone else?” I shook my head, not wanting to argue. “I don’t like it. From now on, let’s just do our own thing.” I didn’t even like bars that much anyway. Doing my own thing sounded better. Finn let out a harsh, angry laugh. “What are you talking about, Thea? You met me in a bar!” “We’re all just here to have fun. Why are you acting so high and mighty?” Oh, god. Zoe was so right. Trashy guys really were persistent. “Whatever you say.” With that, I flagged down a taxi and got in, leaving him standing on the sidewalk. My second relationship was over. I let out a long, disappointed sigh. Where was I going to find a third? 4. I don’t know if you’d call it good luck or not. The senior girls hosted a mixer, and I decided to go. It was at a karaoke bar, with a dozen or so people singing and having fun. I sat clutching my soda, scanning the men in the room, searching for someone who met Zoe’s criteria. Finally, my eyes landed on a guy at the front, holding a microphone. He was tall and handsome with a great voice. I remembered him. On the way over, some girls had been talking about him. Joseph. He was a big deal on campus, one of those legendary figures. But he was also known for being cold and aloof. No friends to speak of, and definitely no girl-bros. Learning from my first two mistakes, I decided to be proactive and make my move. Compared to the others, he seemed like a safe bet. At least the same problems wouldn’t happen again. So for the rest of the night, I shadowed his every move. When he sang, I stared. When he went to the bathroom, I followed. When he stepped outside for some air, I watched him. Maybe my gaze was a little too intense, because Joseph finally cornered me outside the karaoke room. He stared at me, his expression unreadable. “You keep following me. Is there something you want?” I gave him a huge grin. “You’re really good-looking. Can I get your number?” He chuckled softly. “There are a lot of good-looking people in the world. Why don’t you go ask all of them?” He had a point. But I’d already tried two others, and the emotional return on investment was terrible. So I voiced my primary concerns. “Do you have a girl-bro?” Joseph looked baffled and shook his head. “No.” One point for Joseph. My smile widened. “Do you like to go to bars? Swap numbers with strangers?” “No,” he said, looking even more confused. “What is this?” I beamed, showing all my teeth as I held up my phone. “Then you’re the one I’m looking for!” He actually laughed at that. He was smarter than the others. “What happened? Did your last boyfriend break your heart?” “Something like that,” I mumbled, successfully getting his number. What did he mean, last boyfriend? Was there a limit? I’d have to ask Zoe about this. Joseph and I clicked instantly. We liked the same movies, the same books. We both loved musicals, drinking tea, and eating at cheap hotpot places. He was also incredibly patient and insisted on paying for everything. He’d buy a purse I glanced at for a second too long, take me to workshops where we made our own rings, and take endless photos of me. We were so compatible that I was full of confidence about this new relationship. We fell into it easily and comfortably. After our tenth hotpot dinner, we were walking back to campus when he suddenly took my hand. “So, should we make this official?” I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by “official,” but I had a good feeling about Joseph. There was just one thing. Every weekend, on Sunday, he would vanish. I couldn’t reach him. He wouldn’t reply to any of my texts. I was curious, but having no experience in these matters, I swallowed my pride and went to Zoe for advice again. She was lying on a recliner with a face mask on, and she gave me a strange look. “Are you sure you’re his only girlfriend?” “This sounds weird. Who just disappears for a whole day every week?” Her words sparked my curiosity. “Yeah, what do you think it is?” “Maybe he has a second girlfriend,” Zoe snorted. “Congrats, Thea. You found a special edition.” I sighed, slumping onto my little stool. “So what do I do this time? Check his phone again?” Zoe shot up from her chair so fast her face mask went flying.

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My best friend saw a TikTok claiming that eating a specific type of poisonous mushroom would let you see the answer key during the SATs. She spent a fortune buying them to slice up like sashimi. I warned her that she’d just end up dead or in the ER. Out of fear, she threw them away. But after the exams, a classmate bragged that he’d eaten the mushrooms, hallucinated the math answers, and was guaranteed a perfect score. When the results came out, he got into MIT. My best friend missed the cutoff for her dream school by a single point. At my graduation party, she snapped. She stabbed me eighteen times. “Bitch! If you hadn’t been such a busybody, that acceptance letter would be mine!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back to that day. The day she showed off her “magic” mushrooms. “They say if you eat these, the math answers just float in the air. Should I try it?” 1 “Sarah, look! I paid a fortune for these. The internet swears they work.” The moment I opened my eyes, I saw Chloe shoving a red-capped, white-spotted mushroom in my face. Her eyes were manic with excitement. “Once I eat these on test day, Harvard and Yale are basically in the bag.” Seeing her smug face, a chill ran down my spine. The phantom pain of eighteen stab wounds throbbed in my memory. In my past life, I had grabbed the mushroom out of curiosity. Having grown up foraging in the Pacific Northwest, I recognized it immediately. It wasn’t just some magic fungus; it was Amanita muscaria, the Fly Agaric. It was hallucinogenic, sure, but also potentially deadly. I told her the truth. I even showed her news articles about people dying from ingestion. Terrified, Chloe threw them in the trash. “Sarah, you saved my life! If I ate that, I wouldn’t even make it to community college.” But after finals, a guy in our class claimed he ate them, saw the answer key floating in the air, and aced the test. He got into MIT. Chloe missed her target school by one point. She broke. She blamed me for everything. She killed me at my own party, screaming that I stole her future. Then, she played the insanity card, avoided jail, and even became a dark-web celebrity off the story of my murder. I swallowed the hatred rising in my throat and forced a smile. “Chloe, when you get into the Ivies and become a CEO, don’t forget us little people.” Chloe beamed, her vanity stroked. “Duh! We’re besties. When I’m rich, I’ll take care of you.” Then, her face fell slightly. “But… are you sure these are safe? I know your grandma taught you about plants. Can you double-check?” I blinked innocently. “I haven’t been hiking in years. I barely remember anything. If you’re scared, just toss them.” I knew her. She didn’t want to study; she wanted a shortcut. She wouldn’t give up a lottery ticket just because it might be dangerous. Sure enough, she pulled the mushrooms closer to her chest. “People on TikTok did it and they’re fine. I’ll be fine. On test day, I’m eating them raw.” I didn’t say a word. Eat them. Go ahead. This time, let’s see if you get into Harvard or the morgue. 2 Chloe was still anxious, so she spent hours doom-scrolling TikTok for validation. The algorithm, being what it is, only fed her what she wanted to see: videos of students claiming the mushrooms gave them superpowers. She ignored the doctors and toxicologists warning that it was a death wish. I stayed up late every night, chugging coffee and grinding through practice tests. Chloe pulled all-nighters too—playing Valorant and flirting with guys on Discord. One day, seeing me review flashcards during lunch, she rolled her eyes. “Sarah, you try so hard for what? A few extra points? Hop on the game, I’ll carry you. On test day, I’ll even share some of my mushrooms with you. Way better than studying.” “No thanks,” I said instantly. Chloe’s face darkened. “What? You think something bad will happen to me?” I put on my best worried expression. “No, it’s just… I read that if you don’t eat enough, you won’t hallucinate the answers. What if you split it and neither of us sees anything? Besides, I can’t afford to pay you for them.” Chloe’s anger vanished, replaced by arrogance. She looked down at my thrifted hoodie. “True. These were expensive. Someone like you definitely couldn’t afford them.” I nodded, keeping my face blank. My family wasn’t rich. My parents worked double shifts to fund my education. In my last life, I worked myself to the bone to get into a decent state school. I was content. But Chloe took that away. Thinking of my parents aging overnight after my murder, I wanted to scream. But I held it in. I watched her log back into her game, then I turned back to my books. Finals week arrived. Before walking into the testing center, I saw Chloe’s Instagram story. Caption: Let’s get this 1600! Photo: A plate of raw, sliced red mushrooms. 3 When the first day of testing ended, I walked out to hear a familiar voice holding court. “Chloe, did you really see the math answers?” Chloe was surrounded by a crowd of students, looking like a queen bee. “Obviously. I checked my work against the textbook just now. The answers I saw in the air were 100% correct.” To prove it, she rattled off the answers to the hardest calculus problems. My heart skipped a beat. She was right. Knowing Chloe, there was no way she solved those equations herself. Did the mushrooms actually work? The students around her were hyperventilating. “Oh my god, Chloe, you’re going to be valedictorian!” “Forget state schools, Stanford is going to beg for you.” “Chloe, how did you do it? We’re classmates, don’t gatekeep!” “I saw your story… was it the mushrooms?” Chloe nodded smugly. The crowd went wild. “There’s another exam tomorrow! If we eat them too, we can all ace it!” “Chloe, where did you get them? Can you buy some for me? I’ll pay double!” Chloe hesitated, but when the bids went up to five times the price, greed took over. She collected the cash and promised to get a new batch overnight. Then she looked at me. “Sarah, want me to get you some? I’ll give you a discount.” “No,” I said loudly. “My grades are fine. Even if I cheated my way into a top school, I’d just flunk out. Besides, maybe you just got lucky. What if the next batch is a bad trip?” The excited students calmed down slightly. The fear of poisoning or a bad trip started to set in. “Yeah… what if we get sick and miss the test entirely?” Some students asked for their money back. Chloe, furious at losing her profit, turned on me. “Sarah! I can’t believe you. You’re just jealous because you can’t afford them, so you want to ruin everyone else’s future!” I put on my best victim face. “Chloe, I’m just worried about you guys. What if you get sick?” “I ate them and I’m fine!” she snapped. “Fine! If you guys don’t want them, that’s less competition for me.” Her confidence swayed them again. The desperate students—the ones failing their classes—shoved their money back at her. “We trust you, Chloe!” She smirked at me. “Since you trust Sarah so much, enjoy community college.” That night, my feed was filled with photos of red mushrooms. I put my phone away and went to sleep. The next morning, Chloe and her “mushroom squad” marched into the exam hall like soldiers going to victory. When the test ended, they came out ecstatic. “Chloe! I saw the answers! They were floating right above the paper!” “I thought I was going to fail, but now I’m definitely getting a scholarship!” 4 The news spread like wildfire. “Did they really see the answers?” “It’s real. We’re screwed. We studied for nothing.” “Chloe is a saint. She saved the GPAs of half the senior class.” The students who didn’t buy the mushrooms were filled with regret. Seeing their faces, Chloe turned her gaze to me. “Sarah, if you hadn’t stopped everyone, the whole class could have gone to Ivy Leagues.” She shook her head with mock pity. “Don’t cry. There’s always next year.” Her words were like gasoline. The students who missed out glared at me with hatred. “Sarah, you snake! You ruined us!” “I studied for twelve years for this, and you ruined my chance!” Insults rained down on me. I stood there, detached, wondering only one thing: Did they actually see the answers? Suddenly, someone shoved me. “Bitch! My life is over because of you!” Chloe laughed. “Don’t blame her too much. She was just afraid you’d all score higher than her.” That broke them. A few guys, eyes red with rage, dragged me toward the edge of the school’s retaining wall. It was a steep drop. “If I’m failing, I’m taking you with me!” I grabbed the railing, screaming, “Don’t listen to her! The scores aren’t out yet! Killing me is a felony!” They didn’t listen. They were pushing me over the edge. Just as my grip was slipping, the Principal arrived with campus security and the police. “What the hell are you doing?! Let her go!” Chloe stepped forward, calm as ever. “Principal, don’t blame them. Sarah ruined their futures.” The students started shouting over each other, explaining the “miracle mushrooms” and how I sabotaged them. The Principal listened, his expression shifting from confusion to horror. Chloe didn’t notice. She kept yapping. “It’s Sarah’s fault. She’s selfish. She deserves to die!” The crowd chanted, agreeing with her. The Principal rubbed his temples. “So, you’re saying you ate poisonous mushrooms and hallucinated the answers?” “Yes!” Chloe declared proudly. “I’m going to be the first student in school history with a perfect score. Just wait until the results come out.” The envy in the eyes of the other students was palpable. “Okay,” the Principal said, looking exhausted. “This situation is out of control. To settle this… I’m going to let you see the security footage from the exam room right now.” Chloe smirked. “Go ahead.” The Principal pulled up the feed on his tablet and projected it onto the wall. We watched Chloe in the exam room, scribbling furiously. But when the camera zoomed in on her answer sheet, Chloe’s smile vanished.

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Lisa was on speaker with a rich guy, her fake laugh filling our dorm. “Ugh, that broke loser Jake is waiting downstairs again,” she said, glancing at me. “Ava, tell him I’m sick.” I looked outside. To everyone, he was just a poor transfer student. But I knew the truth. Last month, while working at the exclusive Azure Crest club, I saw him leave a VIP suite surrounded by powerful people, with the owner bowing to him. I threw on a thin white tee—one that turned sheer in the rain—grabbed an umbrella, and went down. The downpour soaked the shirt, clinging to my skin. I held the umbrella over Jake. “Lisa wants you to leave,” I said softly. His eyes lowered, lingering, and his throat moved. “Who are you?” “Ava, her roommate.” That night, Lisa went to a hotel with her rich date. I took Jake back to my apartment. 1 I shifted, my body aching with a dull, satisfying soreness. Jake had his back to me, pulling on a pair of faded, worn-out jeans. “You’re awake?” he said, turning around. His gaze rested for a moment on my exposed collarbone, and a playful smirk touched his lips. “Last night was… impressive.” Heat flooded my cheeks, and I quickly looked down, flustered. He walked over to the bed and pulled a heavy, ornate signet ring from his pocket. “I don’t have any cash on me. Take this instead.” He tossed it onto the sheets. “It’s a family heirloom, but it’s a fake. Not worth anything. Just a keepsake for you.” I’d seen a similar ring once, at the club. A mining tycoon, drunk and boastful, had slammed it on the table, bragging it was a 19th-century antique from a defunct European royal line. He claimed it was worth more than a downtown penthouse. Idiot, I thought. He’s really committed to this broke-boy act. As if I’ve never seen real luxury before. I pushed the ring back toward him. “No, I can’t take this.” I looked up, letting my eyes well up with tears. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” Jake raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I told you, it’s worthless. Just something to remember me by.” “It’s your family’s. Even if it’s a fake, it must be important to you.” I took his hand and pressed the ring firmly back into his palm. He stared into my eyes for a long moment, then let out a soft chuckle and pocketed the ring. “Alright. Ava, right? I’ll remember that.” When I got back to the dorm, Lisa was sitting at her vanity, applying a slash of red lipstick. A brand-new Chanel bag sat beside her. “Well, look who’s back,” she said, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. I ignored her and started gathering my things. Seeing that I wasn’t taking the bait, she crossed her arms and studied me. “Ava, I told you to get rid of Jake. Where, exactly, did you get rid of him to?” I paused and met her gaze. “Weren’t you with Chad? Why do you still care about Jake?” Lisa’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. “I’m warning you, Ava. Just because I’m done with that loser doesn’t mean you can pick up my leftovers. It’s disgusting.” I lowered my eyes and said nothing more. Arguing with an idiot is a waste of breath. That afternoon, I got a text from Jake. “Dinner tonight.” In the evening, I changed into a simple dress and waited for him at the campus gate. Jake arrived on time, looking as cool and detached as ever. I walked behind him, trying to figure out his angle for the night. He suddenly stopped. “Ava, about last night…” He was cut off before he could finish. “Well, well, if it isn’t Jake.” I turned to see Lisa clinging to the arm of a slick-haired trust fund kid, a defiant look on her face. “What’s this? Dumped by me and already found a replacement?” Her eyes, full of contempt, darted between the two of us. “Jake, you’re a broke nobody. What right do you have to date anyone? What could you possibly buy for her?” Jake’s expression darkened. I stepped forward, positioning myself between them. “Who I have dinner with is none of your business, Lisa.” Lisa’s new boyfriend, Chad, eyed me with a lecherous grin. “She’s with you? She looks pretty innocent. Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight, sweetheart?” The color drained from Lisa’s face. She tugged on Chad’s arm. “Honey, don’t we have a movie to get to? Let’s not waste our time on people like this.” She shot me a venomous glare before dragging the man away. Jake looked at me. “You’re pretty quick to jump to my defense.” I looked down, exposing the pale, slender line of my neck. “I just think she’s being cruel.” He suddenly smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get that dinner.” 2 To catch a big fish, you have to use the right bait. I tracked Jake’s movements online and, dressed in the red vest of my part-time job, stood outside a high-end shopping mall with a stack of flyers. The people bustling past were dripping with wealth, their eyes sliding over me with disdain. “Hi, would you be interested in a gym membership…?” A flyer slipped from my hand. As I bent to pick it up, another hand got there first. My heart skipped a beat. I looked up, and of course, it was Jake. He was wearing a bright yellow food delivery jacket, a thermal bag in his hand. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said, a half-smile playing on his lips as he handed me the flyer. I froze for a second, then let a look of pure delight spread across my face. “Jake? You’re working… here too?” He went along with it effortlessly. “Just running a few orders.” I pulled him over to the steps by the mall’s side entrance. Taking out a half-empty bottle of mineral water from my bag, I offered it to him shyly. “This is all I have. If you don’t mind…” Jake glanced at the bottle but didn’t take it. Instead, he reached into his delivery bag, pulled out a bottle with the label peeled off, twisted the cap, and handed it to me. “Drink this. Customer cancellation. It’s free.” I took it, sipping slowly. “Are you really that tight on money?” He leaned back against the wall. “Yeah. I’m in a lot of debt. Don’t even have next month’s rent sorted.” I put the water down and reached for his hand, my grip firm. “It’s okay.” I looked him straight in the eye, my voice unwavering. “I’ll work more jobs. I can support you. As long as we work together, we can pay off any debt.” His fingers tensed in mine. He turned his head and stared at me, his gaze intense. “Ava, what’s your game?” I lowered my head, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “I like you!” Jake laughed. “Alright then. You can support me.” He tightened his grip on my hand. “You said it yourself. Don’t regret it.” I nodded fiercely. “Never.” Oh, Mr. Thorne, I thought, you’re the one who said it. Don’t you be the one crying with regret later. Lisa and my other roommates started freezing me out, talking loudly about me whenever I was in the room. “So shameless. She’ll throw herself at any man.” “Seriously. Trying to steal Lisa’s man? She should take a look in the mirror.” I ignored all of it. One day, Lisa “accidentally” knocked over a bottle of expensive skincare Jake had given me, shattering it on the floor. She rolled her eyes. “Well, you shouldn’t have left it on the edge.” I quietly knelt and cleaned up the mess. That night, while video-chatting with Jake, I was dabbing ointment on the back of my hand. “What happened to your hand?” he asked. “Oh? It’s nothing, I just bumped it,” I said, quickly hiding my hand behind my back. But the camera had already swept past the pile of shattered glass on the corner of my desk. The next day, Lisa’s rich boyfriend had all his credit cards frozen by his family and was promptly dumped. Lisa threw a tantrum in the dorm, smashing all of her own makeup in a rage. I knew it was Jake. A man like him would never tolerate someone touching his property. Not even a toy. To solidify our bond, I decided to give him a gift. I ordered a hand-knitted scarf online. In the special instructions, I wrote: Make it as ugly as possible, with as many loose threads as you can manage. It cost me thirty bucks. The emotional value was the entire point. When I gave it to him, Jake’s expression was hard to read. I stood beside him, my face burning. “I’m sorry… it’s my first time knitting. It’s so ugly. We should just throw it away.” I reached for it, but Jake pulled it out of my reach. He wrapped the lopsided scarf around his neck. “It’s warm.” That night, Jake was particularly passionate. But right at the peak, he stopped. He tilted my chin up. “Ava, if I were this poor forever, would you still stay with me?” I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck. “Don’t be silly. I love you, not your money.” I met his gaze, my eyes clear and shining with devotion. “As long as I can be with you, I’ll do anything.” Jake’s body went rigid for a second before he moved again, harder this time. “Fool,” he whispered against my skin. My gaze drifted over his shoulder to the watch he’d casually tossed on the nightstand. A Patek Philippe Nautilus. Seven figures on the secondary market. I echoed his sentiment in my head. Idiot. The next day, he updated his social media with a new photo: a selfie of him wearing the ugly scarf. He’d hidden it from most of his contacts, but it was a step. That post was a dagger to Lisa’s heart. Having been dumped by Chad, she was starting to remember Jake’s good qualities. Furious, she stormed over to the men’s dorms to confront him. Instead, she witnessed him stepping into a black Maybach. Lisa was dumbfounded. She ran back to our dorm, shoving the photo she’d secretly taken in my face. “Ava, you stupid bitch, you’ve been played!” “I knew something was off! No poor guy carries himself like that. Jake’s not broke, he’s a fucking kept man! Some rich old lady is paying for him!” She grew more frantic, as if she’d uncovered a massive conspiracy. I glanced at the photo, smiling inwardly. Oh, Lisa. Is that really as far as your imagination can go? The idea of an heir slumming it is just too far outside your reality, isn’t it? I pushed her phone away. “Jake is not that kind of person.” Lisa scoffed and pocketed her phone. “We’ll see about that. I’ll ask him myself tomorrow.” “Get ready to cry your eyes out, Ava.” 3 Of course, I wasn’t going to ask him anything. But an idiot like Lisa, if she really went and accused Jake of being a gigolo, would trigger his temper. He’d blow his cover on the spot. And then my access to him would be gone. I looked at Lisa and let out a cold laugh. “Lisa, let me guess. Chad dumped you, you’re broke, and now you want Jake back, right?” “So you staged this whole drama to drive a wedge between us so you can swoop in?” Her face turned the color of a ripe tomato. “What are you talking about? I would never want a loser like him!” The more agitated she got, the more I knew I was right. “If you don’t want him, then why do you care if he’s a gigolo or not?” I pressed on. “Or is it that you just can’t stand to see me happy?” Lisa glared at me, but in the end, she didn’t confront Jake. Soon, it was Jake’s birthday. I took out all my savings and maxed out my credit cards, scraping together five thousand dollars. I went to a luxury watch boutique I’d been eyeing for weeks. You have to spend money to make money. On the day of Jake’s birthday, Lisa announced she was dating another rich guy, some guy named Rick. “Unlike some people,” she announced loudly in the dorm, “I have standards. I don’t date male prostitutes.” I paid her no mind and headed downstairs with a plain shopping bag. Jake was waiting for me under the old oak tree. “Jake.” Lisa sauntered over, her chin high with superiority. “Waiting for Ava? You two are a perfect match. You both reek of poverty.” The man, Rick, wrapped an arm around her waist and shot Jake a disdainful look. “Hey, kid. I heard you used to chase after Lisa. Stay away from her from now on. A toad should know his place.” Jake just smiled. “I wish you two the best.” Lisa, stunned by his indifference, just huffed and climbed into a waiting Porsche. Jake stood there as I walked up and stood quietly behind him. He turned, his eyes falling on the plain plastic bag in my hand. “What, you think I’m embarrassing you?” I didn’t say anything. Instead, like a magician, I pulled a small box from behind my back. I opened it and stuck a single candle into the tiny cupcake inside. The wind was strong, and I cupped my hands around the flame. The warm, orange light flickered across my face. I looked up and forced a smile. “Happy birthday, Jake.” His gaze shifted from the cupcake to the small bandage on my hand. He just stared at me, and the cold, mocking look in his eyes began to soften. I sniffled, holding the cupcake up to him. “Make a wish!” The wind blew the candle out. For the first time, I saw an emotion in the eyes of this city’s crown prince that looked like guilt. Even if it was just for a fleeting moment, it was enough. I handed him the watch that had cost me everything. He opened the box and raised an eyebrow, surprised, but he didn’t ask any questions. The heartfelt speech I had prepared was no longer necessary. 4 Jake came back to my apartment with me. I went to the kitchen to wash my hands, mentally calculating my investment. A five-thousand-dollar entry ticket for a deal like this? Worth it. Jake walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me from behind, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I turned in his arms, and we kissed. It was deep and passionate, but he suddenly pulled back. “Wait a second.” I watched as he stepped into the bathroom, his sharp silhouette visible through the frosted glass door. His phone, left on the nightstand, lit up. A bank transfer notification popped onto the screen. [A deposit of $10,000,000.00 has been made to your savings account. Current balance: $134,578,990.50.] My heart hammered against my ribs. Some devilish impulse took over, and my hand shot out. Relying on the password I’d memorized from countless stolen glances, my trembling fingers unlocked his phone. The first thing I did was open his banking app. When I saw that dizzying string of zeros with my own eyes, I nearly laughed out loud. A massive wave of euphoria washed over me. I’d won. My gamble had paid off. My life was about to change forever. I was set for life. Hell, I was set for the next life, too. But greed is a bottomless pit. Seeing his money wasn’t enough. I wanted to see his world. The social circle of a blue-blooded heir… it was the world I had only dreamed of entering. This would be my ticket into high society. I opened his messaging app. Pinned to the top was a three-person group chat named “The Bet.” My stomach dropped. A terrible feeling washed over me. I tapped on the chat. At the very top of the history was a photo. It was me, from that first rainy night, in the thin white t-shirt—curves on full display, a picture of vulnerable seduction. [Jake, damn, this girl’s legit. Body is a 10/10.] [She looks so innocent, but she knows exactly how to play the game.] My heart started to pound. Trembling, I pressed play on a voice message from Jake. His voice, cold and amused, filled the silence. “She’s interesting… a body like that? It’d be a shame not to fuck it.” I scrolled down. Every one of our “chance” encounters, every confession of mine, had been live-blogged and mocked in this group. [So, how long are you planning to play with this one?] [Let’s see how long she can keep up the act.] [The plan is to wait until she thinks she’s really won me over. Then I’ll dump her. That’s when it gets fun.] I gripped the phone, feeling like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. All my cleverness, all my careful planning, was nothing but a clumsy, pathetic performance in his eyes. A tidal wave of humiliation, the fury of being played, and a terrifying fear of the unknown crashed over me, threatening to drown me. The bathroom door opened. I didn’t have time to put the phone down. I could only raise my head, my body frozen. Jake stood there with a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his dark hair. He leaned against the doorframe, pulled a cigarette from a pack, and lit it. Through the swirling smoke, he looked at me, his face a mask of condescending mockery. “Well, Ava? The show’s over?”

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1 I know every trope from trashy webnovels by heart, so ever since being reborn into this world, I’ve braced for plot twists at every turn. I carefully cultivated the persona of someone with crippling paranoia. Delicate and fragile, I turned the Sinclair mansion into a fortress. I padded every sharp corner, triple-tracked my phone, and pinned a GoPro to my chest, recording 24/7. Even my parents ached for me, saying I needed to be showered with love. Years ago, a kidnapper staked me out for months but never found an opening. In desperation, he tried brute force—only to slam into an invisible security fence. He was caught on the spot. And so, I grew up safely, wrapped in my parents’ love. Until today, when a girl showed up clutching a DNA report. Tearfully, she introduced herself as Claire Sinclair, the real Sinclair daughter. “Sister, I’m not here to take anything from you,” she said, eyes red. “I just… want a complete family.” With that, she grabbed my hand and threw herself dramatically toward a porcelain vase in the corner. Thud. Claire bounced off it and landed flat on her back. The smirk forming on her lips froze solid. A second later, she shrieked, “Are you insane?! Who makes a vase out of solid rubber?!” … Claire lay sprawled on the floor, prodding the unmoving blue-and-white porcelain vase in disbelief. “Why won’t this thing break?” “Oh, it’s rubber. Solid rubber,” I explained in a small voice, peeking out from behind my mother. “Claire, are you okay? The floor is cold, you should get up.” My father rushed over to help her up, while my mother knelt beside her, her face etched with concern. “Did you hurt yourself anywhere?” Claire sat up, rubbing her tailbone in stunned silence, her face a shifting palette of white and red. My parents exchanged a look, their eyes filled with a familiar mix of worry and exasperation over my “condition.” “Claire, please don’t mind her,” Mom explained softly, patting her on the back. “Ava… she’s had a phobia of fragile things since she was a little girl. So we had all the porcelain and glass in the house replaced with this custom-made polymer.” The butler helped a limping Claire to her feet. The tear tracks on her cheeks were half-dry, her expression a chaotic mess of disbelief and a new, calculating curiosity. I approached her, feigning concern, and gently brushed the dust from her dress. “Are you hurt, Claire? Should we call the family doctor?” “It’s all my fault. If I weren’t so timid, we wouldn’t have all these strange things in the house.” As I spoke, my own eyes began to redden, tears welling up. My parents’ hearts immediately went out to me. Dad sighed and turned to Claire. “Claire, let the butler show you to your room to rest. I’ll have the doctor check on you later. You’ll have to be more careful around the house from now on.” Claire’s expression darkened even further. Back in her room, she was clearly not ready to give up. A little while later, she appeared timidly at the door to the living room. Her eyes immediately locked onto a celadon teacup on the mantelpiece—one of the few objects in the house that looked genuinely old and valuable. “Sister, that cup is so beautiful.” Her eyes glinted with calculation. I nodded. “It was my grandmother’s.” Claire’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “My… my grandmother, who I never got to meet?” Her voice dripped with a mix of longing and feigned humility. “I never had nice things growing up. That cup must be very expensive, right? Could I… could I just hold it for a moment?” This one-two punch of pitiable vulnerability was too much for my parents. Guilt was written all over Mom’s face. “Ava, just let your sister look at it. She misses her grandmother, too.” I hesitated for a moment before giving a reluctant nod. Claire walked over, picked up the cup with exaggerated care, and as she turned, shot me a triumphant, mocking smirk from an angle our parents couldn’t see. The next second, her foot “slipped,” and she lofted the teacup high into the air. “Oh no!” The cup sailed through the air, heading straight for the marble floor. Claire had already composed her face into an expression of tearful apology. Thump… boing… boing… The expected crisp shatter never came. The celadon teacup hit the floor, and instead of breaking, it bounced like a rubber ball several times before rolling to a stop at my father’s feet. Completely unharmed. The room was utterly silent. I could practically see the blood rushing to Claire’s face, turning it from white to red, then to a deep shade of purple. The cringe was palpable. It was so awkward you could have built a three-bedroom apartment out of the secondhand embarrassment. My father was the first to break the silence. He cleared his throat, a note of relief in his voice. “Well, thank goodness for that. It’s a good thing Ava insisted we replace everything with this reinforced polymer.” “Her grandmother adored her, so she had this specially commissioned. It’s indestructible.” “Otherwise, that precious memento would have been lost today.” Mom quickly jumped in to smooth things over. “Yes, exactly. Don’t worry about it, Claire. No harm done.” Claire just stood there, looking like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. I walked over, picked up the cup, and blew off a speck of non-existent dust. Then, I went to my room, retrieved an identical teacup, and pressed it into her hand. “Don’t be sad, Claire. Whatever I have, you’ll have too.” I gave her a beatific, innocent smile. “Good thing I had the foresight to ask Grandma for two of them.” “Here. This one’s brand new. A gift. You’re welcome.” Claire clutched the indestructible cup, her knuckles white. She quickly recovered, forcing a stiff smile. “Thank you, sister… I see I’ll have to be very, very careful in this house.” After two consecutive failures, Claire lay low for a couple of days. I figured she was revising her strategy. Soon enough, she set her sights on my older brother, Leo, a man whose only true love is academia. He was the family’s resident iceberg, perpetually buried in labs and libraries, with a near-total immunity to human emotional cues. Claire adopted the “gentle, understanding soulmate” approach. She timed his schedule perfectly, bringing him handmade pastries and soups every day. When he inevitably shut the door in her face, she remained undeterred, showing up again the next day. She would also casually “showcase” her intellect in front of him, reciting obscure poetry or dropping philosophical tidbits, all in a desperate attempt to catch his interest. Unfortunately for her, trying to connect with my brother emotionally was like talking to a brick wall made of textbooks. Seeing her charm offensive was failing, Claire finally bared her fangs. That evening, she rushed up to me in a panic, grabbing my wrist, her eyes gleaming with a manic energy. “Sister, quickly! I think that stray cat in the back garden is hurt! It’s bleeding everywhere! We have to go help it!” Her voice was shrill, laced with a contrived urgency. Just what kind of diversion was this? I let her drag me out to the back garden. It was completely quiet. Not a single cat hair in sight. Before I could say anything, Claire clutched her stomach and gasped, “Oh, ouch! My stomach suddenly hurts so much. I need to find a bathroom, quick.” Her winks and grimaces were laughably amateurish. I nodded, playing my part. “Of course, you should go. I’ll look for the cat out here.” She looked relieved, turning and bolting without another word of pretense. I watched her go, then began a leisurely stroll through the garden, even taking the time to water a few of the orchids. When I finally wandered back inside, I was met with the sound of my brother’s furious roar. “Which one of you bastards destroyed my manuscript? It took me three days and nights to finish it!” Leo stormed out of his study, his face flushed with rage, his hair standing on end. It was the first time I’d ever seen him so furious. Even my parents came running. We followed him into his study to find a scene of utter devastation. His freshly completed thesis was torn to shreds, and ink was splattered everywhere. Claire covered her mouth, her face a mask of horror. “How could this have happened?” She timidly tugged on our mother’s sleeve and whispered, “I… I think I saw sister walking past brother’s study door just a little while ago…” My father’s expression hardened. My mother frowned, her gaze turning to me, searching for an explanation. “Claire, are you certain it was your sister you saw?” Claire continued her performance. “Mom, please don’t ask. It’s all my fault…” My parents immediately pulled up the security footage from the hallway. On the screen, a figure in a white dress—my signature look—was seen furtively entering my brother’s study, then rushing out a few moments later. Claire immediately burst into tears, the waterworks on full display. “It’s all my fault. If I’d never come back, none of this would be happening…” “Sister must be in a bad mood because of me. That’s why she did this, isn’t it?” She was doing everything she could to pin the blame on me. “Shut up!”

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1 The call from my mother came as I was being murdered by the serial killer she’d been hunting for ten years. Her voice was laced with venom from the moment she spoke. “Your cousin Lily is getting married next week. You will be there as her maid of honor.” “Her fiancé used to be your boyfriend,” she continued, her tone sharp as glass. “If you don’t show, think of how it will make her look.” I was already fading, the world turning grey at the edges from blood loss. I didn’t have the strength to speak. She didn’t notice. All I heard was her impatient snap. “What are you, dead? Can’t even say a word.” “I’m telling you, Chloe, even if you’re dying, you’ll crawl to that wedding and be her maid of honor first.” Two days later, she was leading the investigation into the gruesome discovery of a dismembered young woman. She identified the killer’s signature work in a single glance. The one thing she didn’t identify was the victim. Me. Her despised daughter. My remains were found by workers cleaning out a septic tank. It took three officers in heavy-duty respirators a full day and night of draining the filth to find all of me. My mother, Captain Eva Rostova, arrived at the precinct, her face a grim mask of professionalism. “Time of death? Have we identified the victim?” Dr. Peterson, the head medical examiner, pulled off his gloves with a weary sigh. “Preliminary estimate is two to three days ago. The body is too severely damaged to identify by face or fingerprints. I’ve sent samples for DNA. We’ll have results in three days, fastest.” At the case briefing, the mood was grim. After Dr. Peterson presented the autopsy findings, a wave of anger swept through the room of hardened detectives. “She was only in her twenties. A kid. Damn him.” “This was torture, not just murder. Sick son of a bitch.” A veteran detective who had served under my mother for years, Mark Reilly, suddenly stiffened. He looked at her, a question in his eyes. “Captain… the MO. You think it’s him?” My mother’s gaze, which had been locked on the autopsy report, shot up. Her eyes were like chips of ice. “It’s Walter Crane,” she said, her voice low and certain. “I’ve studied him for a decade. It’s him.” She continued, addressing the room. “He’s a fanatic. Believes a person’s retina holds the last image they saw before death. None of his victims have ever been found with their eyes intact.” A heavy silence fell over the room. The newer detectives hadn’t been on the force a decade ago, but everyone knew the name Walter Crane. The “Vanishing Girls” case had shaken the entire country and left deep scars on the original investigative team. He had disappeared for ten years. Why he had resurfaced now, no one knew. As the lead detective on the original case, my mother knew Crane better than anyone. She immediately formed a task force and began coordinating the investigation. Mark, an old friend from the police academy, was forced to stay behind at the office with a leg injury, relegated to sorting through cold case files. As the teams filed out, his eyes settled on my mother. “Looks like you didn’t even have time to change,” he observed, gesturing to her rumpled suit. “This case couldn’t have come at a worse time. Must be throwing a wrench in the wedding plans.” At the mention of the wedding, my mother’s professional focus dissolved into pure resentment. “Wedding plans? It’s Lily who’s getting married. That menace is just a bridesmaid.” Mark looked confused. “Wait, you’re saying Chloe’s ex is marrying Lily? How did that happen?” “How do you think it happened?” she scoffed. “Any sane man would choose Lily over that… that monster who killed her own father.” Mark sighed heavily. “Eva, it’s been three years. You have to let that go. I miss David too, but it wasn’t all Chloe’s fault. She’s been living with that guilt ever since. You kicked her out, but all she ever does is ask about you.” He leaned forward. “She told me once, no matter what you asked her to do, she’d do it. No questions asked.” My mother’s face contorted with rage. “You really believe that? She’s a master manipulator, always playing the victim for outsiders. She’d do anything I ask? Then why won’t she agree to be Lily’s maid of honor? It’s been two days, and she won’t even return my call.” “She’s a selfish, worthless parasite,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “Serves her right she couldn’t even hold on to her own boyfriend.” Mark shook his head, a sad, defeated look on his face. He wanted to say more, but it was family business. He let it drop. I stood right there in front of her, a ghost in the room, listening to every poisoned word. Tears I could no longer physically cry streamed down my face. Mom, I wasn’t being selfish. I was just… dead. I died the day you called me about Lily’s wedding. The dismembered body you saw today… that was me. 2 “Mark, stop worrying about trivial matters,” my mother ordered, her voice clipped and professional again. “Pull all missing persons reports for young women filed in the last ten days. We need to ID this victim, fast.” With that, she turned and strode to the morgue, coming to stand before my body once more. I remember her telling me once that the dead can’t speak, but they often tell us more than the living. Dr. Peterson was performing a second, more detailed autopsy. I lay on the steel table like a crudely stitched-together doll. My mother glanced at my remains, then squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back a wave of nausea. Her gaze fixed on the ME’s hands, her brow furrowed in thought. Then, her frown deepened. She reached out and took hold of my ankle. My ghostly breath hitched. Is she going to recognize me? There’s a scar on my ankle, a pale, jagged line from when I tumbled down the stairs as a child. But a moment later, she spoke, her voice puzzled. “Ligature marks on the ankle. That’s not his style. Crane never tied up his victims. It was like he knew they had no chance of escape.” A dull ache spread through my chest. Walter Crane didn’t tie people up. But that doesn’t mean others wouldn’t. She was so strong, Mom. It hurt so much. Don’t you know? I was so scared. Just then, my mother’s phone rang. She walked briskly out of the autopsy room, a rare smile gracing her lips as she answered. “Lily, darling. Sorry, I was busy, I didn’t hear your call.” “Don’t you worry,” she cooed. “I’ll make sure that menace shows up to be your maid of honor. If she dares refuse, I’ll disown her for good.” Lily’s sweet voice chirped from the other end. “Aunt Eva, it’s okay. Even if Chloe doesn’t want to, I won’t blame her. It was my fault for taking Julian from her in the first place.” My mother’s expression hardened instantly. “She wouldn’t dare! As soon as I’m done with this case, I’ll go find her myself. I’ll drag her to your wedding if I have to.” Her voice softened again. “Listen, things are a little crazy right now. You stay home for the next few days, lock your doors and windows, and don’t go anywhere. Understand?” The affection in her voice was a physical thing, a warmth that never touched me. For her beloved niece, there was endless love. For me, only contempt. The moment she hung up with Lily, another call came in. It was my aunt, one of the few relatives who still spoke to me. “Eva? Has Chloe been by to see you? She was supposed to come over and tutor the kids this weekend, but I haven’t been able to reach her for two days.” My mother’s brief moment of calm evaporated. “Why would she be here? I would never let her in my house.” “You know how she is,” my mother continued, her voice dripping with scorn. “She’s manipulative and a pathological liar. You actually believe a word that comes out of her mouth? That’s laughable.” My aunt sounded uncomfortable. “Eva, Chloe’s not like that. She’s always been so helpful to me, she’d do anything I ask.” “Oh, so she’ll do anything you ask, but she ignores me?” my mother seethed. “All I asked was for her to be a bridesmaid for her own cousin, and she decides to play this little disappearing game. Well, you can give her a message for me. She has two more days. If she doesn’t agree, we’re done. I’ll have no daughter.” She hung up, her face a mask of cold fury. Mark came to find her just in time to hear the end of the conversation. He raised an eyebrow and sighed dramatically to the empty air beside him. “You know, if someone doesn’t answer your call, you could always try calling them again. Why does everything with your own kid have to be a declaration of war?” My mother shot him a glare and was about to storm off when another officer stopped her. “Captain, we’ve got someone here reporting his daughter missing.” In the interview room, a middle-aged man with exhausted, red-rimmed eyes described his situation. “My daughter is twenty-three. Just graduated from college. She called me the day before yesterday, said she was coming home to visit. Now I can’t reach her. She’s never, ever gone more than two days without calling. Please, you have to help me find her.” My mother and Mark exchanged a look of shared sorrow. On the slab downstairs, my body belonged to a girl of about twenty-three. I floated in the air above them, a heavy stone sitting in my chest. Even a man who seemed gruff and unobservant on the surface could be brought to his knees by the fear of losing his daughter. Less than two days, and he was here, begging for help. But my own mother, after five days of silence from me, was still just angry. Still convinced I was playing games to get out of a wedding. The numbness in my heart was absolute. It’s true what they say. To someone who loves you, a cough is a sign of pneumonia. To someone who doesn’t, you could be hanging from a noose and they’d think you were just playing on a swing. 3 My mother was debating whether to tell the distraught father about the body they’d found—the timeline didn’t quite match—when the man’s phone rang. A number he didn’t recognize. My mother’s police instincts kicked in immediately. She gestured for him to put it on speaker. “Dad? I’m so sorry, my phone was stolen. I’m using a friend’s. I’m okay, I’ll be home in an hour.” The man sagged with relief, tears of joy streaming down his face. He staggered to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. As he left, he kept apologizing. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you, officers. Thank you.” My mother watched him go, her expression somber. “A child is a parent’s whole world,” she murmured. “Every time we get a missing persons case, the hardest part is watching the hope die in their parents’ eyes.” I floated beside her, studying her face. A child is a parent’s world, Mom? Then what am I to you? Just something you hate? You feel pity for him, but you can’t spare a single drop for me. The task force worked around the clock for a day and a night, but came up with nothing. They were all exhausted and frustrated. “How does a person just vanish without a single person noticing?” “No one’s even reported her missing.” “Maybe she was an orphan, or homeless.” Speculation flew around the conference room. Just then, the dispatch operator knocked and entered. “Captain Rostova, there’s a call for you. They’re specifically asking for you.” My mother took the phone, her brow furrowed. “Captain Rostova? This is the manager at Chloe’s internship. She hasn’t shown up for work in three days, and we can’t get in touch with her. I know you’re her mother, so I’m calling to inform you. Consider this my official report, okay? If anything happens to her, the company isn’t liable.” My mother’s temper, which had been simmering just below the surface, exploded. “What does that have to do with me? I’m warning you, if you ever tie up a public emergency line for her personal drama again, I’ll charge you with obstructing justice.” My manager was so stunned he could only stammer an apology before quickly hanging up. The conference room was silent. Everyone knew the Captain’s temper. It was Mark who finally broke the silence, using a file as an excuse to pull her into her office. “Eva, this isn’t right,” he said, his voice low. “Three days no-show at work, her aunt can’t reach her… What if something really has happened? I tried calling her just now while you were on the phone. Still no answer.” “I can take a couple of uniforms and go check on her,” he offered. My mother’s face was like stone. “There is a victim lying on a cold slab in the morgue, waiting for justice,” she said through gritted teeth. “There is a monster on the loose, and you want to waste manpower on her childish games?” “She’s just doing this to get out of the wedding. It’s a pathetic stunt. Trust me, she’ll come crawling back within three days.” She was right. In the past, no matter how much she hated me, how much she screamed at me, I always went to see her. Every few weeks, I’d stop by the precinct, even if the gifts I brought ended up in the trash. I always came back. But not this time, Mom. This time, I’m already here. I’ve been by your side all along. 4 To expedite the hunt for Walter Crane, my mother didn’t even go home. After calling Lily to remind her to lock her doors, she decided to sleep in her office. She worked until the early hours of the morning, finally lying down on the small cot. She had just drifted off when her phone shattered the silence. Six a.m. A call at this hour was never good news. She shot upright, grabbing the phone. “Rostova.” “Is this Chloe’s mother? Your daughter is over a week late on her rent. I can’t find her, and you’re the emergency contact. You need to come down and pay what she owes.” It was my landlady, a sweet but notoriously early riser. Despite her fury, my mother managed to restrain herself, knowing she was speaking to an elderly woman. She bit out a cold, “I’ll handle it,” and hung up. She sat on the edge of the cot, rubbing her temples. The victim’s identity remained a mystery, but my name, Chloe, seemed to be haunting her from every direction. Frustration boiling over, she pulled out her phone and found my contact information. After a long moment of hesitation, she typed a single, furious line. Get your ass to my office within the hour. The message sent instantly, but a red exclamation mark appeared beside it. Her eyes widened in disbelief. She slammed the phone down on the cot. “You’ve got some nerve, Chloe,” she seethed. “You actually blocked me.” She paced the small office like a caged animal, so lost in her rage that she didn’t hear her phone ringing again until the third or fourth time. She glanced at the screen. It was my name. The contact she had saved simply as “C.” “You’ve got some nerve, Chloe!” she barked into the phone. “Still playing these stupid games?” “I’m warning you, even if you were on your deathbed, you would still have to be that maid of honor!” “Don’t think this little stunt will make me forgive you. The only way I will ever forgive you is if you die!” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a man’s hesitant voice. “Captain? It’s me. We’ve found the primary crime scene. And… we found this phone here.”

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The night before my wedding, Owen’s “girl friend”—Anya—burnt down my house while I was gone. She’d been hosting a backyard barbecue, tossing the unextinguished charcoal embers haphazardly across the new wooden deck. The raging fire that erupted took the lives of the four bridesmaids sleeping upstairs. I drove like a maniac to get there, only to collide with the scene: firefighters carrying four charred bodies out on stretchers. I collapsed, sobbing, unable to tell which was my sister, Lily, and which were my best friends, Zara, Brooke, and Leah. But the one person who had managed to escape, Owen, was standing there, holding Anya close and whispering soft comforts. “It was an accident, Anya. It’s not your fault. I’ve got you. No one is going to touch you.” The hatred was so sharp it felt like a physical wound. I spat out a mouthful of blood, then spent every waking moment gathering evidence to take Anya to court. Yet, before the case even made it to the courthouse, Owen destroyed every piece of evidence. He was furious, his face a mask of righteous anger. “Those four people are never coming back, Sienna. Do you have to force Anya to kill herself, too?” With nowhere left to turn, I walked the streets in a haze of despair until Anya found me and ran me over. I was dead before I hit the ground. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the day before the wedding. I immediately invented an excuse to move my bridesmaids to a suite at The Langham hotel. But that very night, a fire blazed up again, and four women were dead. My heart plummeted. Who were they? And how had they ended up sleeping upstairs in my house? 1 After securing Lily and my three best friends at the hotel, I messaged Owen to cancel the wedding. I told him to grab his friends and any of his own brothers who might have been there and leave the property immediately. I thought I had been careful enough. I thought I had neutralized the threat. But by dawn, I was getting a call about the villa being engulfed in flames. “They’re going to get what they deserve,” a neighbor hissed from the crowd gathered outside the yellow tape. “They had time to run upstairs and save people, but they just…” “I heard they were supposed to get married tomorrow, and he was carrying another woman out naked. They took forever to call the fire department.” “Those two almost burnt down my house when they didn’t put out their coals. What gives them the right to hug each other like that?” Flames clawed at the sky. I pushed through the onlookers just as the firefighters carried out four charred bodies. A spine-chilling coldness crawled over me. It was the same as the last life—I’d been called away for an urgent work meeting, and when I returned, this was the devastation I found. But my four bridesmaids were safe at the hotel. So who were the victims this time? I looked toward Owen. He looked exactly as he had before. There was no hint of guilt for the lost lives, only deep concern for his “girl friend,” Anya. “This isn’t your fault, Anya. We have to blame Sienna…” He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes landed on me, and his expression instantly hardened. “Where have you been? Look at the mess you’ve caused. I told you during the renovation not to use wood decking in the courtyard. Now people are dead. Are you satisfied?” His self-righteous blame-shifting was the last straw. I rushed forward and slapped him across the face. The sound echoed sharply in the sudden silence. “I told you the wedding was off! I told you to leave! How dare you have a barbecue?” I screamed. “Who are those four people? How could you stand by and watch them burn alive? Are you even human?” A flicker of panic crossed Owen’s eyes, but he quickly regained his composure. “The wedding was tomorrow! You can’t just cancel it like that!” he countered. “Your bridesmaids must have slept too heavily, or what? How is that my fault?” “You should be thanking me and Anya that we were still here. If we hadn’t been, your sister and friends would have been burnt to ashes!” Hearing him, Anya, who had looked shaken moments before, instantly found her nerve. “Exactly. This fire was an accident, but the house is yours. Your bridesmaids were here for your wedding. You have to take responsibility for everything.” My whole body shook with fury. It was the same toxic playbook as before. Last time, my closest friends and sister died because of Anya’s recklessness. I was consumed by grief, but Owen’s first instinct was to protect Anya and pin all the blame on me. Then, when I found the evidence to prosecute her, he destroyed it and watched as she ran me down with her car. Even as my life was fading out, I remembered his final words: “Sienna, it’s my duty to look after Anya. I can’t let you ruin her.” My breath hitched painfully. I dug my nails into my palm, forcing myself back to the present. “I won’t waste any more time with you two. There are four bodies, and I’m calling the police.” They still didn’t know the victims weren’t the bridesmaids. But I had a sickening feeling the reason four people couldn’t escape the fire was the same as the last life. I had to find out their identities and the true cause of death. Smack! I’d barely pulled out my phone when Owen knocked it out of my hand. “Is this how you think you solve problems?” “Anya was only trying to help with our wedding. The fire was an accident. They were your family and friends, anyway—just write a big check and compensate them! What else is there to do?” I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. Even though I’d witnessed his cruelty in my previous life, hearing him defend Anya with such callous disregard still sent a shocking, splintering pain through my heart. “Owen, four vibrant lives are easily solved with money in your eyes?” I whispered, my voice thick with hatred. “You are rotten to the core.” My hysterical accusation finally made him flinch. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “I… I didn’t mean it like that…” “What Owen said isn’t wrong, Sienna. Accidents are compensated with money, aren’t they? Why are you being so aggressive?” Anya jumped in, her voice edged with faux-concern. “Unless you know I’m up for a big promotion and you’re trying to tarnish my reputation?” Hearing Anya, the slight guilt on Owen’s face instantly morphed back into anger. He glared at me. “I didn’t realize you were so manipulative. People are dead. Pulling Anya into this won’t bring them back.” “The backyard security cameras aren’t connected yet. Just tell the police you’re responsible for everything. When the dust settles, I’ll still marry you.” It was the same, sickening pattern. A single word from Anya was enough for him to throw me under the bus. Once, we were supposed to watch the sunset on a mountain trail, but he left me alone because Anya called, saying she had a stomachache. I nearly got assaulted walking back by myself. Another time, I was kidnapped, and the ransom was due in two hours. But Anya was upset over a work error, so Owen took her to an auction to buy a ludicrously expensive piece of jewelry to cheer her up. He delayed paying the ransom, infuriating the kidnappers, who cut off my little finger. I had always forgiven him because he once nearly drowned saving me when I fell into the lake. I felt indebted to him. But I paid that debt with my life in the past. This time, I owed him nothing. “Well, your wedding is definitely off. Owen and I are leaving now. You deal with the rest.” Anya sneered, sparing a contemptuous glance at the four bodies lying on the ground, as if they were nothing more than stray cats. Grief and rage filled my chest. As she turned to walk away, I grabbed her arm and dragged her back toward the stretchers. “The fire started and they were burned alive upstairs, but there wasn’t a single sound. Can you honestly tell me you didn’t do anything to them?” I forced her head down, making her look at the horrifically charred remains. Innocent people lost their lives because of her reckless stunt, and she was going to walk away like it was none of her business? Anya gagged at the sight of the bodies, then began to scream. “They died because they were unlucky! If you hadn’t asked them to be your bridesmaids, they wouldn’t have died!” “It’s all your fault! Why are you pinning it on me?” Seeing her terrified tears, Owen yanked me away, then delivered a savage slap to my face. “Sienna, that’s enough! I felt sorry that you lost your sister and friends, but now I think you deserve everything you get.” The slap was hard and fast. I stumbled, collapsing to the ground, my ears ringing, blood already welling up at the corner of my mouth. “They’re dead! What good does making a scene do? Do you only feel happy when Anya is suffering?” He pulled Anya into his embrace, his face etched with pure disgust as he looked at me. His chest heaved, and his next words were even more inhuman. “They were troublemakers anyway. Maybe it was karma that they died.” “If you don’t stop this now, I will break up with you, and I will never marry you.” My cheek was throbbing, but even though I had already hardened my heart against him, the pain still felt like I was being slowly flayed alive. Why? Why did the man who once cherished me, who promised me forever, become so morally bankrupt the moment Anya arrived? I stood up, wiping the blood from my lip. “Owen, I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth. And you and Anya killed four people. Even if you stop me, do you really think no one else will call the police?” A flicker of fear crossed Owen’s face. He was about to speak when a stern voice interrupted him. “Police! Where are the victims? Who started the fire?” Owen and Anya instantly went pale, speechless with panic. The fire was out, and the neighbors had mostly dispersed. I quickly walked over to the officer. “Officer, I’m the homeowner. These two were grilling while I was gone and caused the fire that killed four people,” I said, my voice thick with sorrow. “I suspect the victims were drugged beforehand. Please, you have to investigate the truth.” In the previous life, harmful substances were found in my bridesmaids’ systems. I suspected the same was true now. The only difference was I didn’t know these victims, so I couldn’t yet contact their families to demand an autopsy. “Sienna! Don’t talk nonsense! They were your bridesmaids. If there was a drug, you’re the one who must have given it to them!” I knew Owen would try to frame me, but I couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through my body. “Owen, you are truly despicable. I regret every second I ever loved a man like you.” Owen flinched, staring at me in disbelief. I ignored his complicated expression and turned back to the police. “They died in my house, and the circumstances are suspicious. I need to know who they are and how they ended up sleeping on the second floor.” The officer checked the scene and, perhaps sensing that this was no ordinary accident, his expression became grave. “Don’t worry. We will take the bodies to the station and get to the bottom of this.” As persons of interest, the three of us were taken to the police station to give statements. By the time we finished, the sun was fully up. I pulled out my phone and messaged my assistant. 【Check my networked internal cameras, and get the neighbors’ surveillance footage. Find out exactly who was sleeping upstairs in my house.】 In the morgue, I stood looking at the four bodies, so badly burned their faces were unrecognizable. I felt only deep sorrow. Ignoring the stench of burnt flesh, I stepped closer to examine them. I was just noticing a familiar necklace on the smallest body when the morgue door swung open. Owen and Anya walked in side-by-side. They saw me, and a strange emotion I couldn’t decipher flickered in their eyes. “I have to admire you. Your own sister and three best friends died, and you’re still so calm, intent on pinning everything on Owen and me.” Anya sneered. “Too bad. We have a big gift for you today.” A deep sense of foreboding settled in my gut. The terror of the previous life—the ruined evidence, the car crash—enveloped me. I lost control and lunged at Anya. “Aren’t you afraid of retribution for deliberately causing these deaths?” “You are a snake. You deserve to die more than anyone…” I raised my hand to slap her, but before I could touch her, Owen landed a vicious blow across my face. “Sienna, you are the snake who deserves to die. Are you only happy when Anya is suffering?” I clutched my cheek, my heart stinging. In his eyes, even in my grief over losing loved ones, I was not allowed to seek justice from the killer—because the killer was Anya. Even though he saw Anya was the one baiting and provoking me, I was not allowed any self-defense. My throat felt clogged with sodden cotton. Even breathing hurt. “Anya’s death would be her just deserts,” I choked out. “Do you two even know that one of the victims might be—” “Enough!” Owen roared, cutting me off. He looked at me with cold dismissal. “Say your final goodbyes to your sisters now. Don’t say I didn’t give you time.” With that, he pulled Anya close and they walked out. As Anya passed me, she shot me a knowing, cruel smile. Less than four hours after leaving the morgue, I understood what they meant by their “big gift.” Before any investigation could be concluded, I was informed that the victims’ families had signed compensation agreements. They were dropping all charges and immediately requesting the bodies be cremated and buried. My chest tightened with choked-off fury. Owen would truly stop at nothing to protect Anya. I rushed to the funeral home. The four burnt bodies were lined up, moments away from being wheeled into the furnace. Owen stood there, cold and indifferent. Anya held his hand, a smug, contemptuous smirk playing on her lips. I burst forward to stop them. “Stop! Owen, do you have any humanity left? You haven’t even confirmed their identities! How can you cremate them?” Owen looked at me with undisguised irritation. “How? By showing the signed compensation waivers from your friends’ parents, that’s how. They asked me to handle the rest. Now stop causing a scene.” The moment he finished speaking, Anya presented three waivers to me, clearly bearing the names of my best friends’ parents. “Look closely. Stop behaving like a rabid dog chasing after me. As for your sister, Owen has signed the agreement representing the family.” My eyes went wide as I looked at Owen. “You threatened my friends’ parents, didn’t you? And we aren’t even married yet! Since when are you a member of my family, let alone my sister’s next of kin?!” Owen stiffened, then a flush of annoyance spread across his face. “Once this is over, I will marry you! Can you please stop this hysterics?” Our commotion drew the attention of the other people at the funeral home. Seeing the judgmental eyes on her, Anya immediately put on a distressed, tearful expression. She choked back sobs. “Sienna, you brought your four friends to the wedding house to have a wild party, and you accidentally set the fire and killed them. I know you’re having a mental breakdown from the guilt.” “But you already killed them! Can’t you even let them rest in peace now that they’re dead?” Hearing her version of events, the surrounding people immediately started whispering and glaring at me. “Having a party with escorts in the house and she’s getting married tomorrow? Disgusting!” “Playing around and killing people. This trash deserves the death penalty!” “My son jumped off a building after seeing his fiancée cheat! I’m going to kill this tramp!” A crazed woman lunged at me, clutching my hair and yanking hard. The sharp, searing pain instantly blanked my mind. “It’s you filthy sluts! You weren’t faithful, and you drove my living son to his death!” The woman rained blows down on me. I couldn’t dodge. I screamed through the pain. “Owen! If you have any conscience at all, explain this! Now!” Owen looked at my bleeding face, and a flash of pity crossed his eyes. He took a step forward, but Anya quickly pulled him back. He looked down at Anya’s distressed, worried face, then back at me, his eyes hardening with ruthlessness. “Sienna, you made your bed. Now lie in it. If you don’t leave, I’m calling a psychiatric unit to have you committed.” With that, he directed the staff to push the bodies toward the cremation furnace. Pinned to the floor by the deranged woman, I was close to blacking out from the agony. “Do you even know who you’re cremating?! If you don’t stop, you will regret this! Their families will never forgive you!” But Owen wouldn’t even look at me, focusing entirely on comforting Anya. Anya had killed people and was about to walk free. Seeing the bodies about to be swallowed by the flames, despair filled me. “Stop! Who the hell do you think you’re bullying?” “And which bastard forced my parents to sign a death waiver for me? I’m still alive!” My sister, Lily, and my three bridesmaids, Zara, Brooke, and Leah, suddenly burst through the crowd, shoving the screaming woman off me. Owen and Anya stared at the four very-much-alive women, their faces white with the terror of seeing ghosts. Just then, my phone rang. I looked at the video my assistant sent me, then back at Owen and Anya, my expression icy. “I know who the four dead people are,” I announced, syllable by chilling syllable. “They are Anya’s sister, Sasha, and her three friends.”

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My high-achieving brother became a self-made billionaire. I, on the other hand, was vying for “Funniest Heir of the Year” with my personal philosophy: The Butt-Slide Down the Mountain. The family couldn’t stomach it anymore, so they shoved a suitable bride from a prominent family my way. On our wedding night, I looked at my stunningly beautiful new wife, Seraphina Beaumont, and embraced my philosophy of ‘lying flat.’ I sprawled on the bed and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m exhausted. You can handle the family quota from here. Just let me know when we hit goal.” The next afternoon, my parents’ frantic, consecutive calls blasted me awake. My new wife had gone out to a party. When I reached the private room, she was in the middle of what looked like a challenge with her male best friend, Brandon Cole, to break the Guinness World Record for the longest kiss. Seeing me, Brandon awkwardly pulled away. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Leo. Truth or Dare.” My eyes fell on the split corner of her lip. I pulled out my phone. “Oh, I thought maybe your family also had a reproductive quota.” I raised my phone, flashing a cynical smile. “Just a friendly reminder,” I said, snapping a photo of the two of them. “The stork requires a standing ovation, not just a lock of lips!” 1 They shielded their eyes from the flash and jerked apart. I offered a lazy, unapologetic shrug. “My bad. Forgot to turn off the flash.” The private room immediately erupted in noisy explanations. Seraphina’s face shifted from pale to crimson. “I didn’t! This—this is a cut I just got! Brandon was putting salve on it!” she insisted, pointing furiously at her damaged lip. My friends and hers rushed to back her up. “It’s true, Sinclair! Look at her lip. She lost the dare, so we were all chanting, messing around.” “Seriously, Leo, the Guinness Record is over five hours. How could they possibly be trying to break it?” “We—we accidentally shoved Sera into Brandon’s arms! Don’t get the wrong idea!” I pocketed my phone, yawned, and even squeezed out a couple of physiological tears. “Sure. I believe you.” I waved a hand lazily toward the crowd, letting my gaze linger on Seraphina’s face—a furious scarlet that somehow made her look even more vividly alive. “Let’s go. Quota… I mean, Mom and Dad are pressuring us to come home for dinner.” As I turned, Brandon’s hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. “Leo Sinclair, wait.” His expression was severe, his voice deliberately low. “You need to apologize to Sera for what you just said. You completely disrespected her and our friendship.” I looked down at his hand gripping my wrist, a slight frown creasing my brow. “Let go.” “Not until you apologize!” Brandon tightened his grip, playing the gallant protector. I sighed, slowly reaching into my other pocket for my phone. “Hello? 911? I’d like to report a sexual assault.” I put the phone to my ear, speaking clearly. “Yes, an unknown male is forcibly restraining me and preventing me from leaving. The address is…” Brandon dropped my arm as if scalded, his face a picture of disbelief. “Are you insane?” I lowered the phone, which hadn’t even started ringing, and glanced at him, then at the rest of the silent room. “My wife has a cut, and Brandon here suggested using his mouth to ‘cure’ it. Isn’t that sexual assault?” I paused, letting the silence draw out. “I respect that you didn’t escalate it, but consider this—” I swept my gaze over every person there. “Every single one of you in this room is an accessory to marital sabotage.” 2 Seraphina finally lost it, rushing forward. “Leo Sinclair! Do you have to humiliate people like this?” “Right, I forgot. You, the cold and selfish one, wouldn’t understand the meaning of friendship!” It was truly hilarious. Getting called out for crossing a line and immediately throwing a tantrum? I thought I’d married a compliant, pretty face. Turns out she was a wild rose determined to climb over the fence. I, Leo Sinclair, might be a little Zen, a little lazy, but I’m not a doormat. I let out a low laugh, scanned the room again, grabbed the girlfriend from Finn Davis’s arms, and shoved her straight into Brandon’s embrace. “Go on, Brandon. You two are friends, right? Kiss her!” Brandon instinctively caught the girl, completely bewildered, and looked helplessly at Seraphina. Finn immediately leaped up, trying to snatch his girlfriend back. I blocked him. He yelled at Brandon. “Get your hands off her, Cole! Let go of her now!” Only after Finn had his girlfriend back and was soothing her did an excruciating silence fill the room. Finn stood there, his fists clenched. He understood: I was forcing him to back down. He ignored Seraphina’s frantic signals, picked up a bottle of liquor, and downed three rapid shots. He took a deep breath, his voice strained. “My apologies, Leo. I didn’t think a stupid game would cause such a misunderstanding. We were just trying to protect Sera.” “This has nothing to do with anyone else here; friends mess around, it happens. I’ll take three more shots. Let’s just move past this, okay?” Before I could even speak, I felt the combined glare of everyone in the room, a collective look of disgust directed squarely at me. Seraphina was shaking with rage. She violently slapped away my hand, which I had offered to lead her out. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air. “Brandon is severely allergic to alcohol! He could die, do you hear me?” She demanded, the tears in her eyes not of sorrow, but of pure, furious humiliation. She rushed to Brandon’s side, checking him anxiously. “Brandon, are you okay? We need to go to the emergency room right now.” Red hives were already breaking out on Brandon’s neck, but he shook his head, refusing. He looked up at me, the picture of an injured victim. “Leo, you don’t have to forgive me, but don’t blame anyone else… and especially not Sera.” “I’ll keep my distance from Sera from now on.” He made a move to push Seraphina away. I let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Promises are cheap, but men of their word are few and far between. You better keep that one.” “Enough!” Seraphina cut me off sharply. “Are you done with your petty games? I need to get him to the hospital. Is that acceptable, or do you have a problem with that too?” She stared at me, defiant. “I married into your family for a business merger, but I wasn’t sold into slavery! I have my freedom!” Watching them lean on each other and walk out, I honestly felt like the star of a low-budget, highly humiliating circus. What the hell was this? Did my parents secretly tell me to break up a pair of lovers? I sullenly rubbed my nose and went home, only to be greeted by the sight of my father’s thick, expensive leather belt. “Where is she? You useless boy!” my father roared. My brother, Reid, stood nearby, practically savoring my misfortune. I jumped onto the couch, frantically protesting my innocence. “Dad! That’s domestic violence! I’m going to hit up TikTok and expose this toxic family structure!” “Ouch—” When he decided I’d been hit enough, Reid shoved his phone into my face. “The story on the circuit is you bullied your wife’s friend into alcohol poisoning, and he had to get his stomach pumped. Our family isn’t a bunch of thugs, Leo. Look at the mess you’ve made!” My head was spinning. “I thought the Beaumonts were your business partners! I’m just an idle guy, I wouldn’t dare actually get angry!” “This is pure slander!” At this point, I understood exactly what had happened. They were crying foul before the fact. I pulled down my trousers to check the angry red marks on my backside, two lines of genuine tears streaming down my face. My father showed no mercy. “Tomorrow, you will go out and salvage your image with your in-laws. Don’t cause any more trouble!” 3 Waking up alone on the second day of my marriage, my first order of business was to pick up my new wife from the hospital. I stood by the bedside, watching Seraphina sleep with her hand pressed against Brandon’s. I rested my chin on my hand, pondered for a moment, then took a discreet camera from my pocket and fixed it atop the cable box. Seraphina stirred and woke up. The sight of me immediately made her face fall. She pulled my arm, dragging me toward the door, and the moment we were outside, she angrily yanked her arm free. “What are you doing here? Haven’t you hurt Brandon enough already?” My ancestors said, ‘Don’t argue with a fool.’ I took a deep breath, remaining perfectly calm. “It’s the official post-nuptial family gathering today. You didn’t forget, did you?” She shrugged, unfazed, even finding my presence unnecessary. “It’s just a formality, Leo, a social charade. We’re pawns in a merger, nothing more.” Seraphina gave a bored tug on the corner of her mouth. “It doesn’t matter if I’m there or not.” I gave an exasperated sigh. Smart, but not smart enough—at least, not as smart as me. “The freedom you have now? Your parents bought it for you on that social charade. You’re a pawn, but a very expensive one.” I spread my hands, not forcing the issue. “Different stages of life require different trade-offs. If you think you can openly defy your parents now, I won’t stop you.” “Think carefully, Wife.” With that, I turned to walk away. I silently counted to three. One… Two… “Wait! I’m coming with you!” … I still overestimated her. Before the event was over, a phone call from Brandon was all it took for her to ditch me. “Cover for me. Brandon says he’s feeling emotionally vulnerable.” She looked at me, completely serious. “You’re the one who caused the harm, Leo. Someone has to make amends.” The female protagonist of the post-nuptial event had run off halfway. Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont immediately fixed me with a condemning stare. “Leo, Seraphina married you to be the Lady of the Sinclair family, not your prisoner.” “She has always been perfectly sensible. You terrorized her friend into the ER and then washed your hands of it. She is now cleaning up your mess.” “Frankly, Leo, your behavior—the public humiliation, calling the police, the ER visit over a joke… How can we possibly entrust our daughter to you?” The Beaumonts spoke with an air of immense difficulty, as if pushed to their limit. “We heard you inherited twenty percent of Sinclair Corp’s shares.” “We believe you should transfer ten percent of those shares into Seraphina’s name.” “With a tangible, real connection, perhaps you’ll be more inclined to consider her feelings and act with more maturity.” The old foxes had spun the narrative and shifted all the blame onto me in a few sentences. And now they wanted a tangible asset as a reward. They wanted to have their cake and eat mine, too. I quietly activated my phone and pulled up the live feed from the camera I’d installed. Seraphina had reached the hospital room. She was naturally removing her formal dress, leaning in close to Brandon. I smiled blandly at Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont. “Father-in-law, Mother-in-law, it’s not that I don’t want to give it to you. I essentially got these shares for free just by being the ‘Second Young Master.’” “But I have to say, your daughter might not be as ‘sensible’ as you think.” On the screen, Brandon was tearfully wrapping his arms around Seraphina. “Sera, I always felt like you had to fight for what you loved. But maybe I fought too slow. Now it’s too late.” Tears welled up in Seraphina’s eyes, too. Brandon paused, then looked at her with a pleading gaze. “Sera, I don’t ask for much. But would you… would you tattoo my name? On your… on your…” His hand moved subtly down toward her lower abdomen. Seraphina’s face instantly flushed crimson. The Beaumonts, their faces thunderous, slapped the phone out of my hand. “That’s disgusting! Utterly indecent!” I didn’t argue, slowly picking up my phone. “Father-in-law, Mother-in-law, about those shares… shouldn’t you be giving me some?” 4 Seraphina was confined to the Beaumont residence, supposedly to be ‘re-educated’ before her return. The Cole family, to save face, brought Brandon over to apologize. But the apology was hollow, and Brandon’s face was a mask of sulky defiance. “Leo, my friendship with Sera is genuine! I swear there’s never been anything inappropriate!” I leaned in close, whispering with malicious softness. “So genuine that it requires your name tattooed on a private part of her body to prove it?” Brandon’s face went instantly white as a sheet. If I hadn’t been concerned about my own family’s reputation, I would have broadcast that revelation to the entire city. This time, Brandon’s apology was genuine. He couldn’t maintain his composure any longer and practically fled in terror. When the ‘re-educated’ Seraphina returned, she was noticeably quieter. In fact, one month later, she gently laid her hand on her stomach and announced to me: “I’m pregnant!” These four words detonated a bomb in the Sinclair household. My brother, Reid, is a staunch DINK (Double Income, No Kids) and a confirmed bachelor, so the burden of procreation had fallen entirely on me. My parents instantly treated Seraphina like royalty. I had to admit, she was efficient. One time and done. My father saw the cynical smirk on my face and smacked me on the head. “Go find something to do, Leo. Stop hanging around here being a bad omen!” I shrugged, pouting. It was a performance, and the stage had been set. All I had to do was wait for the curtain call. The opportunity arrived quickly. Sinclair Corp was hosting an important business gala that required spousal attendance. Seraphina claimed her growing bump felt a bit uncomfortable and insisted I stay with her for a while before we left. Before we set off, I was sprawled on the couch playing a game. Seraphina handed me a glass of milk. “Leo, you’ve been playing for so long. Tired? Have some milk so you’ll have energy for the party.” I gave her a lazy smile, tipped my head back, and downed the milk in a few large gulps. Seraphina took the empty glass, murmuring softly. “Okay, rest for a minute, then we can leave.” She practically fled the living room. The drug’s effect was faster and more potent than I expected. I slumped into the sofa, closing my eyes, letting the heavy, dragging sensation wash over me. I registered people approaching, lifting me, and stuffing me into a car. Bumps, darkness, and shards of muffled conversation drifted into my awareness. “Don’t worry, it’s all arranged. Veronica loves the lean, clean type.” “He won’t remember, will he?” “The dose is guaranteed. When Veronica is done having her fun, he’ll wake up convinced it was a blackout and a massive mistake…” Veronica? The infamous politician’s daughter—the one rumored to have a powerful background, questionable kinks, and a history of destroying the lives of several young men? Ha. They found me a perfect destination. It was a brilliantly cruel plan. If I were permanently incapacitated, or worse, if I lost the ability to father a child, the one in her belly would be the sole heir. Too bad. Brandon and Seraphina had underestimated the depth of my family’s emotional intelligence. They were thoroughly wicked, but not nearly clever enough. The car suddenly came to a stop. … The gala had stalled. Sinclair Corp’s partners were exchanging puzzled looks. My brother, Reid, coolly took the stage to manage the situation. “Ladies and gentlemen, my brother, Leo, informed me he had a special gift prepared for his in-laws.” “Please bear with us for a moment.” My father scowled, ready to storm off and find me. “That good-for-nothing son! What trick is he playing now?” “Reid, too! He spoils him rotten!” My mother gently held him back, smiling ruefully. “It’s no use fighting it. And honestly, I’d prefer he never grow up.” Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont were sweating profusely, exchanging nervous glances with Seraphina. Seraphina gave them a shaky, reassuring smile. The next second, a bloodcurdling shriek pierced through the ballroom’s top-of-the-line sound system. Seraphina’s face instantly went paper white.

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