1 After we went long-distance, my boyfriend, Vincent, sent me a custom mystery box every single month. He used those little surprises to replace his physical presence, helping me survive the endless, agonizing wait of our long-distance relationship. Two years ago, Vincent made me a promise. “Once I take over the family business, I’m coming back to get you.” “I’ll make sure you can stand by my side in the light of day.” For that single promise, I waited for him in a city two thousand miles away for hundreds of days and nights. Until finally, in the 773rd mystery box I opened. I pulled out a first-class ticket to Chicago. On the flight, my barely contained excitement made the girl sitting next to me giggle. With innocent, bubbling joy, she showed me a photo of her and her fiancé, smiling brightly. “We’re getting married in three days!” Looking at the pre-wedding photoshoot on her screen, my hand, which had been lovingly tracing my boarding pass, suddenly froze. The groom-to-be in that photo. Was the very man I had just crossed thousands of miles to see. My sheer joy instantly curdled into absolute shock. I gripped my phone tightly, hiding the lock screen photo of Vincent and me behind the darkened glass. Compared to her stunning, professional wedding photo. My lock screen picture felt exactly like my relationship with him. Something dirty that couldn’t be shown to the light. After landing, from the airport all the way to the lobby of Vincent’s corporate headquarters, I couldn’t reach him. The receptionist eyed my suitcase meaningfully, her polite tone wrapping around a core of pure condescension. “Miss, Mr. Kensington’s office isn’t a hotel lobby. People can’t just waltz in whenever they feel like it.” The robotic voice of the automated voicemail kept looping in my ear. I froze, stung by the thinly veiled insult, and was just about to explain myself. When Vincent’s helpless, incredibly indulgent voice rang out from behind me. “Slow down, don’t run.” Serena was bounding through the revolving doors. She practically skipped over and threw herself into his arms, pouting playfully. “Vincent! Come with me to get my hair done!” Vincent smoothly hung up his constantly vibrating phone. He had opened his arms in advance, catching her perfectly. The way their arms linked together so naturally felt like a vice grip twisting around my heart. It hurt so much I couldn’t even make a sound. The receptionist shoved me slightly to the side, muttering under her breath. “The actual fiancée is here. Why are you still standing around looking stupid?” I stumbled from the push and twisted my ankle, falling hard onto the polished marble floor. People crossing the lobby stopped to whisper, their eyes burning holes into my back. I covered my face, utterly humiliated. Vincent glanced over. A flash of pure shock crossed his eyes when he saw me. Serena noticed me too and gasped. “Oh! We ran into each other again!” I forced the corners of my mouth up, looking up at them as they walked over, feeling completely pathetic. Serena reached down and helped me up. Vincent gave me a polite, distant nod. Like I was just some random girl from his college dorm. “Hey. Long time no see.” That painfully formal greeting felt like a needle shoved straight into my chest. I stared at him, suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. Serena looked between us with genuine curiosity. I looked at Vincent with begging eyes, pleading for him to say something real. He held my gaze for a split second, then reached out and firmly grabbed Serena’s hand. “Go wait in my office. I’ll walk her out.” I was left standing completely frozen. Inside Vincent’s massive corner office. Everywhere I looked, there were cute, girly trinkets that clearly belonged to Serena. His secretary poured me a glass of water. As she turned to leave, she smoothly and quietly picked up the framed wedding photo sitting right on his mahogany desk and carried it out with her. My mind just kept replaying the way he held her in the lobby. I stared blankly out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Vincent and I came from entirely different worlds. He was the sole heir to the Kensington empire. My dad had abandoned me, my mom was dead, and I survived college entirely on student loans. After graduation, his mother fought tooth and nail to destroy our relationship. To stay with me, Vincent cut all ties with his family. He lost his credit cards, his trust fund, and was dragged back home to be beaten with a golf club by his father. He never gave up. Not until the Kensington family pulled strings to blacklist me in the city. When I couldn’t even get a job as a barista, he finally bowed his head and surrendered to them. The night before I moved away to Austin. He stood in this exact spot, holding me, and made a vow. He swore that one day, he would make sure I stood by his side, officially and openly. In my daze, a familiar pair of arms wrapped around my waist, and lips pressed against my cheek. My eyes burned terribly. In the suffocating silence, Vincent’s voice was low and calm. “Don’t come to the office next time. People talk, and your current identity makes it complicated.” “She’s just a business partner. I just secured this CEO seat, and I need her family’s connections.” Hearing him lie straight to my face. I closed my eyes, letting the tears slide down my cheeks. Vincent’s eyes filled with heartache. He lowered his voice, coaxing me gently. “Just give me a little more time, okay? Everything I’m doing is for our future.” “You understand that, right?” “But she told me you two are getting married.” Vincent went completely silent for a second, avoiding my eyes entirely. “It’s just a stalling tactic. You know you’re the one I’m actually going to marry.” Standing in the exact same spot where he made his first promise. My heart wavered, but a terrifying sense of dread washed over me. I didn’t dare believe him anymore. 2 Back in the old, cheap apartment we used to rent, Vincent was helping me make the bed. As he reached across the mattress, his sleeve slipped down, and I saw a tattoo on the inside of his arm. It was a date. A date that meant absolutely nothing to me. His phone was sitting on the nightstand. I tapped the screen, looking at the lock screen wallpaper of a couple kissing on a beach. I punched in the date from his tattoo. The phone unlocked instantly. Vincent walked out of the bathroom, his brows instantly knitting together defensively. “Are you going through my phone?” I lowered my eyelashes, my voice incredibly soft. “We’re breaking up.” Suddenly, the power in the apartment cut out. Plunged into absolute pitch black, Vincent scoffed in disbelief. “Break up? Because of Serena?” “I already told you, she and I are just a partnership! Everything with her is purely transactional!” “I’m doing all this for my career! For our future!” “You’ve always been the understanding one. Stop throwing a tantrum.” My eyes were completely hollow. It took every ounce of strength I had to push the words out of my throat. “Vincent, I will not be the side piece.” Vincent froze, his voice rising in anger. “What side piece? How is this even the same thing?” A custom ringtone suddenly interrupted him. He picked it up, pressing it to his ear as he immediately started walking toward the door. He tossed a quick, “Wait for me to get back,” over his shoulder and rushed out. He completely forgot that I had terrible night blindness. In the dark, I was practically blind. I sat frozen on the bed for a long time before I stumbled around, banging my knees against the furniture, to find my phone. When I lit the screen, I saw a new post on Serena’s social media. [Do you guys think Vincent will make a good husband?] The attached photo showed Vincent setting several home-cooked dishes and desserts onto a dining table. It looked so warm. So incredibly bright. My stomach churned violently, and I couldn’t stop dry heaving. Ever since I got that plane ticket, I had been so ecstatic about seeing him that I had completely forgotten to eat. The pain made me curl into a ball. I squatted in the corner, my hand brushing against an empty outlet on the wall. It was empty. In the past, Vincent had plugged a little nightlight into every single corner of this apartment. Later, I took those nightlights with me to Austin. During our long-distance years, they had taken his place, keeping me company through countless dark nights. Now, I had finally come to his city. But the distance between us was an ocean that could never be crossed. The next day. Serena invited me to sit down at a high-end cafe. She giggled, stirring her latte. “Vincent always tells me how much you helped him back in college. I wanted to thank you personally.” I nodded absently, my mind focused on scrolling through project details in my email. In the middle of her endless bragging, Serena answered a phone call. “The mystery box for next month? Just pick whatever trendy figure is popular right now. It’s fine.” I froze. I looked up at her. “You like those mystery boxes?” “Oh, I’m just running errands for Vincent. He said it was to pay back a small favor he owed someone.” No wonder. A year ago, the mystery boxes Vincent sent me completely changed. They went from the obscure indie artists I actually loved to mainstream, generic junk. It wasn’t even him picking them out anymore. I thought he was giving me his absolute best effort, a relentless commitment to keeping me company. To him, he was just paying off a debt. I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. Serena tilted her head, reached into her designer bag, and slid an elegant, gold-foiled wedding invitation across the table. “Vincent told me to hand this to you personally. You absolutely have to come tomorrow!” On the card, the names of the bride and groom were pressed tightly together in beautiful calligraphy. It looked exactly like the fantasies I used to play over and over in my head. The only difference was. My name was written in small print under the “Guest” section. I slipped the invitation into my purse. At the exact same moment, an email notification popped up on my phone. [Confirmation Successful: You are now the lead on the Austin project.] After parting ways with Serena, I walked into a small, rundown diner down the street and ordered a plate of food. The portion of chicken was much bigger than it used to be, but it tasted like absolutely nothing in my mouth. The owner was counting cash at the register. When she looked up and saw me, her jaw dropped. “Oh my god, it’s you!” “You remember me?” She clapped her hands and laughed warmly. “Of course I do! Years ago, your boyfriend swiped three different debit cards just to scrape together enough for one plate of food. Then he begged me to use his last two dollars to buy an extra piece of chicken for you. Said you’d been working on your feet all day and needed the protein.” “That foolish, sweet kid. Why didn’t he come with you today?” That day, Vincent had just sat across from me, watching me eat with a smile, lying and saying he wasn’t hungry. As he watched me, his eyes had turned completely red, and he kept whispering that he was absolutely going to marry me one day. Thinking about the invitation sitting in my bag, I shook my head. “He’s getting married. And I’m leaving town.” 3 Outside the grand doors of the hotel ballroom. I accidentally bumped into Vincent and one of his rich friends. “An arranged marriage that turned into true love. A match made in heaven, bro!” “But what about that girl down in Austin? Haven’t you guys been apart for two years?” “…Don’t bring her up.” To the world. Vincent and Serena were perfectly in love and perfectly matched. The corporate merger was just an added bonus to their epic romance. And me? I was just a brief pause before a dismissive “Don’t bring her up.” I stepped out from behind the pillar. Vincent looked up and froze the second he saw me. “What are you doing here?” “I came to get some food.” He reached out, trying to cup my cheek. I turned my head sharply, dodging his hand. He let out a heavy sigh and quickly transferred a large sum of money to my phone. “Eat something good. You’ve gotten so thin these past two years. Go buy yourself some nice clothes after this.” “I have a corporate dinner to attend. I’m going to be very busy the next few days. Be a good girl and wait for me. I’ll come find you when this is all over.” I lowered my head obediently. I pulled up my travel app and paid a premium fee to expedite a ticket purchase. Five minutes later, the screen flashed: [Ticket Purchased Successfully]. The wedding ceremony began. Vincent was wearing a Windsor knot—the exact knot I had once told him looked best on him. Unlike his usual calm, composed self, his hands were actually shaking slightly as he gave his speech. Like I was torturing myself on purpose, I stood in the back and listened to every single word. During our two years apart, Vincent always said it just “wasn’t the right time” for me to visit. He constantly left me staring at a blank chat screen and listening to the dead dial tone of a dropped call. But as long as I thought about the day we could finally stand together again. I swallowed all the pain and held on. When I was sick and struggling to adapt to a new city, Vincent was romantically meeting Serena at a high-society gala. When I was pulling all-nighters, working myself to the bone just to be worthy of his status, Vincent was making a wildly public confession of love to Serena on a private island. When I was hugging a framed picture of him, crying until my eyes swelled shut from missing him. Vincent was holding Serena at the highest point in Chicago, kissing her under a sky full of fireworks. Without me even realizing it, my tears were falling again. “…Look at her. The side piece is actually getting emotional listening to this.” I whipped my head around. Several unfamiliar faces were standing near me. When they saw me looking, one of them sneered openly. “Oh! So she knows we’re talking about her.” “Years ago, Vincent and Serena were already engaged, and she still wouldn’t stop stalking him. Didn’t they ship her off to Austin? Now she’s back to crash the wedding?” “A side piece trying to crash a wedding? Classy.” I stared at them, completely stunned by the venom in their words. Up on the stage, Serena’s face was bathed in tears. She gripped the microphone, choking on her sobs, as Vincent smiled and held her hand tightly. “Vincent and I have been in love for five years and engaged for three. We finally made it to today.” “A few days ago, I met someone who shares a very special connection with both me and my husband.” “So, I’d like to invite her to bring up our wedding rings…” Before Serena even finished her sentence, a massive gasp ripped through the ballroom. On the giant LED screens behind them, a slideshow of intimate photos began playing on a loop. Holding hands, hugging, walking in and out of hotels. Everything. The people in the photos were me and Vincent. A split second later, a blinding spotlight hit me dead in the center of the crowd. An usher walked right up to me and bowed. The velvet tray in his hands held two glittering wedding bands. Every single pair of eyes in that massive hall locked onto me. I didn’t hesitate. I picked up the rings and walked straight up to the altar. Vincent watched me get closer and closer. The utter disbelief on his face slowly morphed into dark, furious rage. I picked up the bride’s ring and held it out to him. Someone in the crowd yelled, “Having the mistress deliver the rings! Now that’s entertainment!” Vincent violently slapped my hand away. The ring went flying. He grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip. “You planned this?” “Is this why you came back?” I stood on that stage, stared at by hundreds of people. They were all whispering. Every single time the word “homewrecker” was hissed, it drilled perfectly into my ears. It felt like steel spikes being driven into my spine. Before my mother died. She had screamed the name of my father’s mistress until her throat bled. She died choking on her own hatred. I despised mistresses with every fiber of my being. Later, when my dad remarried. At his wedding, he physically forced me to my knees and demanded I call that woman “Mom.” Right now, I was biting my lip so hard it bled, but the humiliation I felt was a million times worse than that day. Back then, Vincent had kicked the doors open. He punched my father to the ground, screamed in the mistress’s face, and dragged me out of that hellhole. But now, in front of everyone. He shoved me violently to the floor. His face was a mask of absolute ice. “I have absolutely no connection to this woman.” “Two years ago, she was stalking me, and I paid her a lump sum to leave the city. I had no idea she came back to harass Serena or crash this wedding.” “Mom, Dad, Mr. and Mrs. Waldorf, Serena. I promise I will handle this and give you a satisfactory answer.” I lay on the cold floor, my entire body shaking uncontrollably. Vincent called security to drag me off the stage and pull me out the doors. As I was dragged past Serena. Her eyes were still wet with tears, but her gaze was dead, cold, and calculating. “Thanks for making the trip,” she whispered. The mystery box with the ticket. The “coincidental” meeting on the plane. The personal invitation. In a fraction of a second, the puzzle pieces locked together in my brain. Serena knew everything. This entire spectacle was orchestrated by her. Vincent personally escorted me out the back doors. Before leaving, he grabbed my arm and hissed under his breath. “I had to protect the reputation of both our families. I didn’t have a choice.” “I know you feel wronged, but you crossed a massive line today! Do you have any idea that you almost ruined everything we’ve worked for?!” “Go back to the apartment and wait for me. I’ll come find you as soon as I clean this up. I promise this won’t affect us.” He shoved me into a waiting taxi, ordered the driver to take me to the apartment, and turned on his heel to leave. I stared at his retreating back. I rolled up the window and looked at the driver. “Take me straight to the airport.”

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1 Robert was universally acknowledged as the brooding, untouchable golden boy of our foster home. But I was the only one who knew the truth. He was a massive phony. When the wealthy Wigfield couple arrived at the home looking to adopt, Robert stood before them in a crisp white shirt, his chin tilted up in an arrogant display of pride. “Mr. and Mrs. Wigfield, I have no intention of being bought by a rich family.” “If family ties are tainted by money, they become absolutely filthy!” The room fell silent. All the kids and staff were entirely in awe of his unbending backbone. But the Wigfields looked visibly disappointed. They shared a quiet look, preparing to leave. I was standing perfectly still in the corner when a string of glowing, floating text suddenly materialized in thin air right in front of my eyes. [Oh, this is such a tragedy! The Wigfield family is actually amazing. Their eight daughters have been begging for a little brother for years!] [They would give him the best private prep school, the best resources. They even set up a massive trust fund for his future Ivy League tuition!] I stared hard at the words “best private prep school.” My heart hammered violently against my ribs. Without a second thought, I raised my hand high into the air. “Ma’am! If it’s possible, I want to be adopted!” The recreation room went dead silent. Every single pair of eyes snapped toward me. Including my fellow orphan, Robert. The mask of unyielding, noble pride on his face almost cracked completely. “Liam, what are you doing… I didn’t think you were the type to be blinded by vanity.” Ms. Higgins, the director of the foster home, looked mortified. She hurried over and grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back. “Liam, stop causing a scene! They came here to choose Robert!” I didn’t budge an inch. I kept my lips pressed tight and looked directly at Mrs. Wigfield. Mrs. Wigfield was stunned. She paused her steps toward the door, turning around to look at me. “You said… you’re willing?” “Yes! I want this!” My palms were sweating profusely, but I gathered every ounce of courage I had and repeated it loud and clear. The kids crowding around us immediately started whispering. “Is Liam just a massive gold digger? Why is he acting so desperate?” “Obviously! Robert literally just rejected them, and Liam is throwing himself at their feet. Have some shame!” “Look at Robert. He’s so pure and noble. It just makes Liam look incredibly cheap and greedy.” Hearing the whispers, Robert let out a soft, knowing smile. He walked over and gently tugged at my sleeve, playing the role of a concerned saint. “Liam, don’t be impulsive.” “High society isn’t a place where people like us can survive.” “I know you’ve always desperately wanted to climb the social ladder, but please don’t degrade yourself like this.” The moment those words left his mouth, the looks of disgust aimed at me doubled. I stared right back at him, my mind completely clear. If I didn’t already know he was a try-hard fake who wanted to be adopted by a billionaire family more than anyone else in this room, I might have actually believed his garbage. I yanked my sleeve out of his grip. “No. I want to be adopted by the Wigfield family. Please consider me!” In a few months, I would have to take the crucial entrance exams for high school. The foster home had extremely limited resources. The teachers were overwhelmed, study materials were outdated, and private tutoring was a luxury we couldn’t even dream of. When the Wigfield family could offer me the absolute best educational resources in the country, I wanted to study! I wanted to climb out of the mud! I didn’t think fighting for my future was a sin. The floating text appeared again. [Oh my god, Robert needs to stop acting! If he keeps playing hard to get, he’s actually going to lose the spot!] [Mama Wigfield absolutely hates it when people act like money and love are enemies. Robert’s little speech actually really hurt her feelings.] [Liam might be a little blunt, but he’s so incredibly sincere! I think he actually has a shot!] My pulse raced faster. Mrs. Wigfield studied me for a long time. Suddenly, she walked over and knelt down to my eye level. “Tell me why you want to come home with us.” My throat felt tight. “Because I want to go to a good school.” “And I want to know what it feels like to actually have a family.” A tear slipped instantly down Mrs. Wigfield’s cheek. She reached out and held my shaking hands. “Okay. I understand, sweetheart.” Mr. Wigfield exchanged a deep look with his wife. He didn’t agree on the spot, but he left a very clear door open. “We will head home and discuss this, and then confirm with the director.” “A decision like this shouldn’t be rushed.” With that, they turned and left the building. Robert was still standing near the doorway. His eyes were completely red. The other kids immediately swarmed him, offering comfort. “Robert, don’t be sad. The Wigfield family is definitely going to pick you in the end!” “They were just caught off guard because Liam started yelling. They definitely won’t like someone so obsessed with money!” Robert shook his head gently, looking like a tragic hero. “I’m not sad for me. I’m just worried about Liam…” “He wants this so desperately. When he gets rejected, it’s going to crush him.” Standing a few feet away, I let out a cold, silent laugh. Crushed? Who said the Wigfield family was definitely picking him? 2 Once the billionaire couple left, the foster home erupted into absolute chaos. Almost everyone was gossiping about what just happened. But I wasn’t the center of the conversation. Robert was. “Robert is so incredibly principled! He’s literally a god! If Mrs. Wigfield asked me, I would have nodded so fast my neck would snap!” “That’s exactly why he’s different from us. He’s not basic and greedy like Liam.” I walked past them carrying my breakfast tray, hearing every single word. Someone saw me coming and intentionally raised their voice. “Some people really think raising their hand is enough to turn them into a prince. Does he even know how powerful the Wigfields are?” “A boring nerd who only knows how to study. Who would want that? Robert is handsome and has an amazing personality. The rich family is definitely going to pick him!” “Exactly! I can’t wait to see someone cry his eyes out when reality hits!” I didn’t stop walking, but my heart wasn’t completely bulletproof. It was true that I wasn’t as naturally charming or good-looking as Robert. But I really, really wanted this chance to go to a real school. I had to fight for it. At noon, Robert came looking for me. He sat across from me at the battered cafeteria table and let out a heavy sigh. “Liam, I heard what the others were saying this morning. Please don’t take it to heart.” “They aren’t trying to laugh at you on purpose. They just think you acted way too desperate.” I didn’t answer. I just kept solving my math equations. He glanced down at my worn-out workbook and offered a pitying smile. “You always do this. You think studying until your eyes bleed will actually change your destiny.” “But some boundaries can’t be crossed just by working hard.” “If something isn’t meant for you, you can’t force it.” I looked up. His eyes were dripping with fake sympathy. “A powerful family like the Wigfields wants a boy with natural elegance and artistic flair.” “You’re too practical. You’re so practical it’s actually incredibly boring.” I pressed my lips together and stayed completely silent, though my emotions were boiling over. Suddenly, the glowing chat box popped up in the air between us. [Oh my god! Boy, you need to shut up! The Wigfield parents already went back and held a family meeting. All eight daughters voted unanimously to take Liam!] [Mama Wigfield told them that when Liam said he wanted to go to school, it broke her heart into pieces! They are officially switching their target!] I stared at those two lines of text. My pen froze. Unanimous vote? I dug my nails into my palm to suppress the violent wave of shock and joy rising in my chest. Robert was still talking. “If they come back begging in a few days, I might actually consider giving them a chance.” “It would be rude to reject them twice, after all.” He looked at me like a king tossing a coin to a beggar. “Liam, please don’t be too devastated when it happens.” “I’ll talk to Mrs. Wigfield and ask her to sponsor your education as a charity case.” That afternoon, Ms. Higgins called Robert into her office. Very quickly, the news spread like wildfire through the entire foster home. “The director just said it! The Wigfield family is still aiming for Robert!” “Wow! I knew it! Robert is the only one fit to be a rich heir!” I stood near the stairwell, listening to their absolute certainty. Meanwhile, the floating text drifted lazily across my vision. [Lmao. The Wigfield family’s executive assistant is literally drafting Liam’s preliminary adoption paperwork right now.] [Yikes! Robert is really living in a delusion. The eight Wigfield sisters are currently Googling ‘how to bond with a fifteen-year-old brother who loves studying’!] I lowered my head and went back to memorizing my vocabulary flashcards. Stay calm. The less people believed in me, the more I needed to keep my cool. 3 Three days later, the Wigfield family’s executive assistant arrived with a stack of documents. Ms. Higgins took the file and immediately called for Robert. Robert showed up wearing that exact same crisp white shirt, a look of mild, burdened reluctance plastered across his face. “Ms. Higgins, I already told you, I might not actually go.” Ms. Higgins looked at him with fond exasperation. “Oh, stop it. The Wigfields went through all the trouble to send the paperwork. Stop being so stubborn.” “They are incredibly sincere. Don’t break their hearts.” The kids gathered around immediately started cheering. “Woo! Robert is going to the Wigfield mansion!” “You’re going to be a billionaire heir! Don’t forget us little people!” Robert looked down, twisting his fingers together as a shy flush crept up his neck. “Stop talking nonsense, guys!” “I just… I just don’t want to make Mrs. Wigfield sad. Honestly, I really don’t care about marrying into wealth…” I stood at the back of the crowd. I noticed the assistant frowning slightly. He flipped open the expensive leather folder. “Ms. Higgins, excuse me, but is Liam here?” Ms. Higgins froze entirely. “Liam?” “Yes. This supplemental background form needs to be filled out by Liam personally.” The air in the room felt like it had been sucked into a vacuum. The bashful smile on Robert’s face turned to stone. Ms. Higgins quickly forced a laugh, trying to smooth things over. “Oh dear, is there a mix-up? Mrs. Wigfield definitely chose Robert the other day, didn’t she?” The assistant’s tone was flawlessly polite. “There is no mix-up.” “Mr. and Mrs. Wigfield wish to understand Liam better.” “Of course, this is just a preliminary background check and does not guarantee a final adoption decision.” He phrased it very carefully. But for me, that was more than enough. My heart did a tiny, joyful flip as I stepped forward and took the paperwork. “Thank you, sir.” The way the other kids looked at me shifted instantly. “It’s just some paperwork. It’s not like they picked him. Why is he looking so smug? They probably just want to compare options.” “Exactly. Robert rejected them, so they had to find a backup tire.” Robert forced a smile and walked over to my side. “Liam, the higher the hope, the harder the fall…” “Billionaire families are extremely careful. Looking at one extra person doesn’t mean anything.” I uncapped a pen and started filling out the form, completely ignoring him. He kept going. “But it’s good that you got this chance.” “Even if you’re just being used as a comparison, at least someone like you gets to see how the other half operates.” The floating text drifted by. [Compare? The eldest Wigfield sister just ordered her team to research the transfer policies for the most elite prep school in the state.] [The second sister is consulting corporate lawyers about minor adoption laws!] [The fifth sister secretly bought a mountain of boy’s clothes and toys. Her manager couldn’t even stop her! The eight sisters are losing their minds!] I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud. Seeing my silence, Robert assumed he had struck a nerve. His eyes grew even more pitiful. “I’m not looking down on you.” “I’m just terrified your expectations are too high. I’m looking out for you.” I looked up from the paper and capped my pen. “Keep it to yourself.” I turned and walked away. Behind me, the toxic whispers and mocking laughter flared up again. “Look at that attitude! I can’t wait to see how swollen his face gets when reality slaps him!” “Seriously! Robert, when you move into the Wigfield estate, you have to put him in his place!” 4 For the next week, the floating chat became my personal secret weapon. Every time they popped up, they gave me an anchor of confidence. [The Wigfields are officially finalizing the adoption papers!] [Mama Wigfield is setting up Liam’s room. She spent three hours just picking the wall color.] [Lmao! The eighth sister is secretly texting her classmates asking what kind of stationery teenage boys like!] I read the text while quietly balancing chemical equations in my notebook. Everyone thought I was desperately pretending to be calm, but only I knew that I was feeling more secure by the second. Robert, on the other hand, was growing visibly frantic. He started volunteering to help out in the director’s office every single day. When people praised him for being humble and said he wouldn’t forget his roots once he was rich, he would lower his head and smile. “Of course not. The Wigfield estate isn’t that far away. I’ll come back and visit you all the time.” He even pulled his battered suitcase out from under his bed, wiped off the dust, and packed all his clothes perfectly. When I came back from brushing my teeth and saw him doing it, a small laugh escaped my lips. His face stiffened. His calm facade shattered instantly. “What the hell are you laughing at, Liam?! Do you honestly think just because you filled out a piece of paper, you actually have a shot?” “You are so pathetic!” “Do you want to know why the Wigfield family will definitely pick me?” “Because I actually look like a son they can parade around in high society. And what about you?” He looked me up and down with absolute disgust. “You look like a desperate beggar clawing for pennies. You don’t belong in their world!” It was an incredibly ugly thing to say, but I wasn’t angry at all. Because right above his head, the floating text was going absolutely crazy. [Someone save this boy! He has no idea the Wigfields literally locked in Liam days ago!] [They are literally coming to pick him up tomorrow! He polished that suitcase for absolutely nothing! Aaaaah!] [Wake up, buddy! You literally handed your spot to Liam on a silver platter!] I raised an eyebrow at him. “Then let’s wait for the results.” The next afternoon, the foster home exploded into chaos. “Mr. and Mrs. Wigfield are here!” The moment the news broke, every single kid sprinted out to the courtyard. “They definitely came to get Robert!” “Robert, go change your clothes!” Robert played coy, but his body moved faster than anyone else’s. He changed into a pale blue button-down shirt, meticulously combed his hair, and even sprayed a tiny bit of hairspray. Ms. Higgins personally wheeled his packed suitcase out to the front hall. “You stubborn boy, stop fighting this.” “When you get to the Wigfield estate, be good. Be polite, but don’t let anyone walk all over you.” Robert’s eyes filled with bright tears. “Ms. Higgins, I’m going to miss you all so much.” A few of the younger kids cried and hugged him. “Robert, you have to come back and visit.” I stood on the landing of the stairs, watching the scene like an outsider. Nobody called for me. Nobody thought I had any right to be there. A massive, sleek black SUV pulled up to the front gates. Ms. Higgins immediately pushed Robert to the very front of the crowd. “Mr. and Mrs. Wigfield, Robert has his bags packed and ready.” “He just has a tough exterior. Deep down, he is incredibly grateful to you both.” Robert kept his head bowed, perfect, crystalline tears resting on his eyelashes. He looked exactly like a tragic prince being forced by destiny to accept a life of billionaire luxury. Mrs. Wigfield stopped in her tracks, completely bewildered. She looked at Robert. Then she looked at the packed suitcase. Slowly, she shook her head. “Ms. Higgins, I believe there’s been a massive misunderstanding.” “We are not here to pick up Robert.” Every single person in the courtyard went wide-eyed with shock. “Then who are you here to pick up?!”

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1 The day the city issued the Code Red flood warning, our boss tagged everyone in the company group chat. “Attention all staff. Do not go home after your shift tonight, just in case you can’t make it in tomorrow. The company will charge a $100 overnight accommodation fee per person. It will be deducted from your next paycheck!” The office erupted into a chorus of muttered complaints, but no one dared to openly defy her. As a result, at two in the morning, the river levee breached. Violent, muddy floodwaters smashed through the ground-floor office windows. Over a hundred people drowned before they even had the chance to wake up. When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting right back at my desk, staring at the exact moment the boss sent that message. My desk neighbor sighed heavily and asked me how I planned to survive sleeping on the floor tonight. I didn’t even hesitate. “I’m quitting.” At 3:14 PM, the group chat pinged. Valerie, our boss: “Attention all staff. Do not go home after your shift tonight, just in case you can’t make it in tomorrow. The company will charge a $100 overnight accommodation fee per person. It will be deducted from your next paycheck!” I stared at the screen. My fingers moved faster than my brain. “I quit. I’m not staying tonight.” Send. The chat went dead silent for three full minutes. Then Valerie’s reply popped up. “Luke’s overnight fee just went up to $200. Anyone else want to quit? Speak up now so I can process you all at once.” Three seconds later, the first bootlicker replied. “Received. I will follow the company’s arrangements.” Then came the second, the third, and the fourth. Someone specifically tagged me in the chat. “Luke, can you not drag the rest of us down with your drama?” In my previous life, this exact same group of people lined up like good little sheep to drown in a vortex of filthy brown water. At 2:00 AM, the levee broke. The steel roller doors of the ground-floor office warped and buckled under the pressure. The water poured in faster than human lungs could scream. Over a hundred people. Not a single one made it out. I stared at the endless stream of “Received” scrolling down my monitor and slammed my phone face-down on the desk. The HR Manager’s chat icon flashed. She didn’t type a single word. She just forwarded three scanned documents in rapid succession. The first: A Non-Compete Agreement. Banned from working in this industry for two years after resignation. Penalty for breach: $30,000. I was making a miserable entry-level salary. I would have to starve for three and a half years to pay that off. The second: A Training Service Agreement. The “pre-employment onboarding” the company provided was valued at $5,000. Anyone leaving before three years of service had to repay it in full. The third: My original university diploma and degree certificates. On my first day, Admin told me they needed to “centrally manage” our documents. My original, irreplaceable degrees were currently locked in a filing cabinet down the hall. I was naive back then. I didn’t know it was completely illegal for an employer to hold original identification and degree certificates hostage. In my last life, I told myself to just swallow my pride and endure it. And my reward was dying in the dark, suffocating in freezing floodwater. A voice memo from HR popped up. “Luke, throwing a tantrum today might feel good. But how are you going to feed yourself tomorrow? Going to apply to jobs with your high school diploma?” I stood up. The legs of my office chair scraped violently against the floor, letting out an ear-piercing screech. The entire open-plan office fell dead silent for a split second. Over a hundred pairs of eyes flicked up to look at me, then immediately dropped back down to their screens. I walked straight to the Admin desk and held out my hand. “My documents. My diplomas. Give them to me right now.” Derek, the operations admin, didn’t even look up. His fingers kept clacking away on a spreadsheet. “Centralized document management is company policy. Employees are not permitted to withdraw them without authorization.” “Those are my personal documents.” At the next desk over, Jessica leaned back in her chair. “Give it a rest, Luke. Stop being a drama queen. Two hundred bucks is still money. With your financial background, you really think you can afford to be picky?” Sitting across from her, Marcus chuckled. He laughed, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with me. “He probably thinks he can go home and become a famous TikTok influencer. That’s the trendy thing to do these days, right?” Jessica giggled, echoing his mockery. Derek finally stopped typing. He stood up and snapped a file folder shut. “Luke, if you really want to leave, you can. Just settle your $5,000 training fee and your non-compete penalty first. Finance.” He turned his head toward the accounting desks. Without looking up, Greg from Finance called out a number. “Thirty-five thousand dollars total.” Marcus snorted. “Thirty-five grand. If his family had that kind of cash, he wouldn’t be working a desk job here.” He side-eyed me and took a slow sip from his coffee mug. I stood in front of Derek’s desk. Derek sat back down and resumed typing his expense reports. He left the back of his head facing me. The cowlick at the crown of his hair was perfectly, meticulously round. The clack-clack-clack of his mechanical keyboard never stopped. No one else spoke to me. A new message popped up in the main group chat from Valerie. “Since everyone is on board, we will lock down for the night. Admin, get a headcount. Not a single person is allowed to be missing.” Below her message, another wave of “Received” flooded the screen. My phone buzzed in my hand. HR sent another private message. “Luke, it’s not too late to withdraw your resignation. Valerie said the $200 fee is a special favor to you to teach you a lesson. Don’t be ungrateful.” I didn’t reply. I grabbed my backpack and walked straight toward the main entrance. In my previous life, the floodwaters swept my bag away. By the time my parents arrived to identify me, my body was bloated beyond recognition. I swiped my badge at the door. The access panel lit up with stark red letters. PERMISSION DENIED. ACCOUNT FROZEN. Footsteps approached from behind. Derek’s voice was ice-cold. “The flood emergency protocol has been initiated. All entrances and exits are locked down. Access privileges are now entirely under Admin control.” I turned to look at him. “This is false imprisonment.” I stared dead at the glowing red padlock icon on the screen. Derek just sneered, turned around, and walked away. I walked back to my desk. My phone screen was lit up. Another message from HR was waiting for me. “Your employment file is still registered under the company’s collective account. If you insist on forcing your way out today, I will write ‘Terminated for Severe Disciplinary Violations’ on your official separation papers.” “That means this record will follow you forever. It means you will fail every background check for your next job. It means you can forget about applying for grad school or civil service.” “Of course, if you cooperate and tough it out tonight, I can write it up as a standard resignation. Your choice.” I gripped my phone tightly, the screen casting a pale light on my face. At the desk next to mine, Jessica was shoving potato chips into her mouth, chewing loudly with aggressive crunches. At 5:30 PM. A sudden message popped up in the main company chat. “Hey, I heard there’s a massive discrepancy with the client payments Luke handled last week?” The chat was quiet for barely three seconds. Then someone else replied. “No wonder he’s in such a rush to quit and run. He’s terrified of an audit.” Derek chimed in as the Admin. “Colleagues, please do not spread unverified information. The company will handle this according to protocol.” He followed it up with an emoji. A sarcastic clown face. Underneath it read: IYKYK. The sheep immediately followed the formation. People started spamming the clown emoji. Others posted “Yikes” and a string of snickering faces. Jessica turned her head and gave me a filthy look. My entire body ran cold. I sat in my chair, utterly paralyzed by the sheer audacity of it. A few minutes later, Greg and Derek walked over to my desk. Greg was holding a stack of printed papers. He walked right up to me and violently slapped the stack directly against my face. He looked down at me with pure disdain. “Luke, the funds from the accounts you managed have completely vanished.” I looked up. Greg let out a dark chuckle. “Four thousand dollars. Let’s hear your excuse.” The surrounding office went completely silent. I reached up, caught one of the papers fluttering down from my face, and slammed it onto the desk. “Every single transaction was ordered directly by the boss. Every single one has an approval record in the system.” The corner of Greg’s mouth twitched upward. “Approval records? I checked the system. There’s nothing there. You think hiding behind Valerie’s name means we won’t investigate?” My fingernails dug violently into my palms. The two men stood over me, tossing insults one after another. “Luke, if you hadn’t thrown this massive tantrum about quitting, we wouldn’t have even looked deep enough to find all this dirt.” He stared at me, his eyes burning with undisguised malice. “Exactly. Auditing these books is exhausting, you know?” “The weather is absolute garbage, and you’re making us work overtime. You’re lucky we aren’t billing you for our lost hours!” Sitting there, looking at these two clowns, I almost laughed out loud. “You guys are putting on a hell of a show. Who’s the audience? Just spit it out. What do you want?” Derek stepped forward, pulled a single sheet of paper from a folder, and slammed it down in front of me. He used more force than I had. The paper bounced slightly off the wood. Statement of Voluntary Confession and Agreement to Compensate by Employee Luke. “Sign it. The money will be deducted from your paychecks in installments.” “Then this whole thing goes away. You put your head down, do your job, and stop bringing up all this garbage about resigning.” I let out a dry laugh. “And if I don’t sign?” “If you don’t sign, we call the cops the second this storm passes.” He glanced down at the scattered papers on the floor. “Four grand is a felony. It’s enough to lock you up for a good while. And I don’t think I need to educate you on what a prison record does to a resume, do I?” I pushed my chair back and stood up. “You lock the main doors. You trap over a hundred people inside. You freeze the access systems. There are no fire exits. There’s a Code Red weather warning outside, and we can’t leave. The legal term for that is false imprisonment.” “When the cops get here, what do you think they’re going to investigate first? A fabricated four grand, or the guys who locked the exits?” Derek’s pupils contracted sharply. But instead of getting angry, he laughed. He raised his hand and violently shoved me backward. Caught off guard, I stumbled back. My spine slammed hard into the edge of the cubicle partition with a sickening thud. Over a hundred people craned their necks to watch. Derek rolled his wrist, looking down at me like I was a bug. “We try to do this the nice way and you don’t listen. Guess you want to do this the hard way.” I glared at him. I was just about to swing back when a voice cut through the tension. “What is all this yelling? Are you all trying to get fired?” I looked over. It was Valerie. She walked over with a sweet, sickening smile on her face. She stared at the red mark developing on my arm and chuckled softly. “Luke, why do you always have to be so extreme?” She reached out to pat my shoulder, but I dodged her hand. “Locking the doors is a flood safety protocol. It’s not targeting you. Everyone is staying here tonight for centralized management, so we can keep our project timelines aligned. Look around.” She turned, opened her arms wide, and beamed at the hundred-plus employees in the room. “Does anyone here have an objection to the company’s arrangements for tonight? Speak up now.” It was like someone hit the mute button on the entire room. Marcus ducked his head. Jessica pushed her bag of chips to the far corner of her desk. The people who had been craning their necks just seconds ago snapped back into their seats, their eyes glued firmly to their monitors. Valerie turned back to me. Her smile hadn’t shifted a millimeter. “You see? Over a hundred people, and you’re the only one with a problem. Is it possible that the problem is actually you?” Marcus immediately threw a rock from the sidelines. “Luke, I’ve tolerated you for a long time. You don’t come to team-building events, you skip company dinners. You think you’re so special.” “Marcus, who covered your shift last week?” My throat felt tight with disgust. Marcus’s eyes darted away. “Did I ask you to? I didn’t beg you.” Jessica chimed in with a sneer. “He literally tracks his overtime pay down to the exact decimal point with Finance. Someone that petty? No wonder he embezzled four grand.” Last month, her code completely crashed. I stayed at the office until 3:00 AM fixing it for her. “Jessica, who fixed your fatal bugs?” Her face froze for a second. “Who asked you to fix them? You volunteered.” Valerie crossed her arms and watched me suffer. I took another step back. “I am leaving today. I’ll pay the money. Give me the account number. I will transfer the four grand right now. Just let me go.” Valerie laughed. She took a step closer. She wasn’t going to let me off the hook. “Luke, there’s a Code Red storm outside. How could I possibly let you leave with a clear conscience? This company is a collective. We are as warm and loving as a family.” I backed up until my lower back hit the edge of my desk. She reached out and pressed her hand over my phone, which was sitting on the desk. No, she didn’t press the phone. She pressed her hand directly over mine. Her palm covered the back of my hand. Her thumb slowly, suggestively stroked my skin. “Look at this, everyone. Luke is highly emotional right now. How could I let him leave alone? If something happens to him on the road, who takes responsibility?” I violently yanked my hand back, wiping the back of it furiously against my pants. I looked around. Marcus was staring into his coffee mug. Jessica was aggressively staring at her screen. Derek was inspecting his fingernails. Over a hundred people. Just minutes ago, their lips were moving a mile a minute dragging my name through the mud. Now, every single one of them was magically blind. “Let go of me!” I raised my arm to push her away, but she grabbed my wrist, her grip so tight my bones ground together. She leaned her face in close. “Luke, be a good boy. Stop throwing a tantrum.” Every hair on my body stood straight up. “Get off me! This is sexual harassment!” Valerie let go of my wrist, took a step back, and threw her hands up in mock innocence. “Sexual harassment? Is it a crime to care about my employees? Luke, aren’t you being a little too sensitive?” I stood in the middle of the crowd. My arm still stung from the shove. The feeling of her hand on mine felt like sticky slime on my skin. No matter how hard I rubbed it, I couldn’t get it off. My stomach churned violently. I wanted to vomit. “I am quitting right now. I will pay whatever penalty you want, but you are going to let me walk out that door right now.” I stared directly into Valerie’s eyes. “Or I am calling the police.” Valerie let out a cold, sharp sneer. “Like hell you’re leaving! Let me make this clear, Luke. I pay your salary. That means the time you spend in this building belongs to me. If I say you don’t quit, you don’t quit. It’s just a little rainstorm. You are staying in this office tonight!” I stared at her. A wave of pure nausea and dizziness washed over me simultaneously. In my previous life. I went to the bathroom after working late. Just as I pushed the stall door open, a hand reached out from inside. In my previous life, I screamed, but the torrential rain outside drowned out the sound. No one heard me. I gathered spit in my mouth and spat violently right in her face. Before she could even process what happened, I whipped out my phone and dialed my sister. “Sarah, I need you to come get me right now.” A hand reached out from behind me and wrenched the phone out of my grip. Valerie shoved my phone into Derek’s chest. She wiped her face, her expression twisting into something demonic. She grabbed my shoulders, pinning me in place. “Luke, do you really think paying me thirty grand ends this? I don’t give a damn about thirty grand. What I want is…” Her eyes slowly dragged down my body. The corner of her mouth hooked up into a sickening smirk. I knew exactly what she meant. I leaned back against the desk, my ten fingers gripping the edge of the wood so hard my knuckles turned white. Valerie reached out to grab my arm again. “Come on. Let’s go to my private office.” Right at that exact second. A deafening crash exploded from the direction of the main entrance. It was the sound of something heavy and reinforced being violently kicked off its hinges. The security access panel let out an ear-piercing screech. Every fluorescent light tube in the entire building flickered violently. I turned my head, completely stunned. My older sister, Sarah, was standing in the doorway. Behind her stood a row of massive, heavily built men. Their faces were dark as thunder.

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1 That evening was the eighteenth time Mark refused to meet me at my dorm. Frustrated, I nudged his chest; he tapped my forehead. “My time’s valuable, Iris. Could’ve read two journal articles waiting for you.” He checked his watch. “Six minutes, twenty-six seconds late. Date ends six minutes early.” Later, Jenny grumbled, “Next time I’m telling him off—he can’t treat you like this.” I forced a smile. “That’s just Mark. Hates waiting.” Before our next date, I cut my finger bandaging it took longer. His text popped up: One minute late. Date canceled. My time’s too valuable. Gripping the bleeding cut, a sharp ache bloomed in my chest. Then Jenny sent a video: Mark stood outside Fiona’s dorm. “Sorry!” Fiona panted. He smiled, fanning her with his notebook. “No rush,” he murmured softly. “Only waited twenty minutes—caught up on reading.” A tear hit my screen, blurring his face. I wiped it, downloaded the major transfer form, submitted it, then applied for the university’s confidential wilderness expedition. At the top of my chat with Jenny, the status flickered. Typing… then disappearing, then typing… again. Finally, her message popped up. I didn’t want to tell you this, but once when I was working my shift at the bistro downtown, I saw Mark sitting alone at a table. He waited for almost two hours. The food went completely cold. Fiona finally showed up, completely rushed, but he wasn’t angry at all. He just smiled. I remembered our second anniversary clearly. The restaurant had been backed up, and our main course took too long, pushing past the strict time slot he had allotted for our dinner. Without a word, Mark had stood up and walked out, leaving me sitting alone at the table with the bill. Jenny’s next text arrived: And another time at the amusement park, I happened to be standing right behind them in line for the famous Ferris wheel. The line took almost two hours. He spent the entire time fanning her and feeding her snacks. Mark loathed lines more than anything. I had begged him a dozen times to go on that very Ferris wheel with me, but he had dismissed me coldly every single time. I used to think it was just his rigid personality. But it wasn’t. He just didn’t want to bend for me. Seeing no reply, Jenny sent another message: Iris? Are you okay? My fingers trembled as I typed back: I’m fine. Thanks for telling me. I set the phone down, finalized my transfer application, and emailed it directly to our department advisor. Mark and Fiona were the golden students of our department, mentored closely by our dean. By their junior year, both had secured fast-track PhD offers. They were the acknowledged prodigies of the lab. Meanwhile, I had spent an entire grueling year retaking my college entrance exams just to get into the same university to stand by his side. My screen lit up with a message from Mark, accompanied by a screenshot of two movie tickets. Fiona’s having a rough day and wants to catch a movie. If you want to join, I’ll buy a third ticket. If he truly wanted me there, why hadn’t he just bought three to begin with? In our three-person group chat, Fiona sent a pleading emoji: Iris, please come with us? I really need a distraction. I typed back: I’m a bit tired. I’ll pass. Within seconds, Mark privately messaged me: Iris, stop being petty. I stared at the harsh letters on the screen. This isn’t on me, Mark wrote. Fiona has been practically living in the lab for two weeks. She’s exhausted. Is it really that hard for you to just be there for her and watch a movie? I squeezed my phone until my knuckles turned stark white. When my hand was bleeding, he hadn’t offered a single word of concern. But the moment Fiona mentioned a bad mood, he rearranged his entire day. Mark lived in his lab. To get him to agree to this movie date, I had begged him for a month. I had even created a color-coded schedule, planned down to the minute, promising I wouldn’t waste a single second of his precious time. Only Fiona’s exhaustion mattered. My boundaries were always labeled as moody tantrums. A bitter, burning ache rose in my throat. I typed out a slow, quiet reply: Don’t worry. It won’t happen again. He didn’t reply. I pushed the hurt down and buried myself in study guides for the transfer exam. Late in the evening, when my eyes were burning from fatigue, a message popped up in our group chat. Mark: Come down to the dining hall. I got you a gift. Despite everything, my heart betrayed me, skipping a beat. I practically ran down the stairs, arriving at the dining hall breathless. Mark stood there, shoving a massive, plush teddy bear into my arms before reaching out to pinch my cheek. “Do you like it?” Clutching the giant toy, my chest fluttered. Then Fiona slung an arm over my shoulder, playfully nudging my hip. “Mark and I entered that couple’s carrying contest on the campus plaza. We had to hold on for thirty minutes to win that thing! I am absolutely exhausted.” The smile froze on my face. A couple’s carrying contest? Where he had to hold her in his arms? Mark scoffed, though his eyes were warm. “You have no right to complain. I was the one carrying your entire weight.” “Hey, keeping my balance and holding on tight takes a lot of core strength too!” Fiona shot back, giggling. They fell into an easy, teasing banter, completely ignoring me as a cold shiver ran down my spine. Mark had always detested public displays of affection with me. Once, I had playfully hugged him from behind on campus, only for him to pull my hands away with a cold, disapproving scold. I tossed the plush bear onto the nearest table and turned on my heel. Mark stepped quickly to block my path, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you like the bear?” Fiona stood frozen, looking worried. “Iris, did I say something wrong?” I shook my head and looked Mark dead in the eye. “Meet me outside my dorm building tomorrow morning. I have something to say to you.” Deep down, a pathetic, desperate spark of hope still flickered. If he just showed up, if he could change even a little, maybe I could forgive him. Mark sighed heavily. “If you have something to say, say it now. Waiting around is a massive waste of time.” Yet Jenny had told me he once waited outside Fiona’s lecture hall for three hours just to walk her home. Before I could speak, Mark’s phone buzzed. It was a call from their lab director. He patted my head, his sigh heavy with irritation. “Just be reasonable for once, okay?” He unlocked his bicycle. Fiona smoothly hopped onto the back rack, naturally wrapping her arms around his waist. “We have to run, Iris,” Fiona called out with a wave. “Get back safe!” In our two years of dating, Mark had never let me ride on his bike. He always told me it was too dangerous. Back in my room, the department advisor called. “Iris, you’re in your sophomore year. Are you absolutely certain about switching your major to Earth Sciences?” “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m sure.” During our first college entrance exams, my score had been fifty points lower than Mark’s. Against the wishes of my parents and teachers, I chose to retake the entire senior year. My classmates laughed at me, calling me a fool who was throwing her life away for a boy. The second year, I finally made it. I got into his university, his major. But all it brought me was incomprehensible coursework and a string of failed lab experiments. Mark would pinch the bridge of his nose, staring at my struggling data sheets with deep disappointment. “If only you had half of Fiona’s brains,” he would mutter. Silent tears fell onto my desk. I hung up the phone, logged into the university portal, and finalized the transfer. It was time to chase my own path. The next morning, a photo popped up in our group chat. It was a selfie of Fiona and Mark lying head-to-head on a narrow dorm bed. Fiona had added a tired emoji: We pulled an all-nighter in the lab and collapsed. Slept like logs! My gaze lingered on the jacket draped over Mark’s shoulders. It was the coat Fiona had worn the night before. A minute later, as if realizing how it looked, Fiona sent another text: Don’t worry, Iris! We’re basically siblings. We could share a bed for a year and nothing would ever happen! I remembered our only weekend trip together. Mark had insisted on booking a room with separate twin beds. When I teased him for being old-fashioned, his face had hardened as he lectured me about personal boundaries and principles. Sometimes, grief makes even breathing feel heavy. I didn’t reply. I simply tapped the button to leave the group chat. Within seconds, private notifications flooded my screen. Mark: Why did you leave the group? Fiona: Iris, what’s wrong? I picked up my phone and typed a brief response to both: Nothing. Exams are coming up and I need to focus. Fiona replied instantly: Oh, thank goodness! I was terrified you’d misinterpret the photo. Fiona had known how much I loved Mark since high school. When we entered college, she had promised to help me keep an eye on him, ensuring no other girls got too close. Yet she was the one who crossed every single line. Once my transfer was officially approved, I practically lived in the library. For days, I used exams as a shield to avoid them. When the finals finally ended, I was walking to the dining hall when Mark intercepted me. He blocked my path, staring down at me with cold fury. “Iris, what on earth are you doing?” I blinked, startled. “What?” “You know how hard Fiona worked for the President’s Scholarship. Why did you report her?” I gripped the textbooks against my chest, their sharp edges digging painfully into my palms. My throat tightened. “Did you actually see me report her?” “On the day of the scholarship posting, someone saw you walk into the advisor’s office. Right after you left, an anonymous reporting letter was submitted.” Mark’s expression grew colder. “The report contained details so specific that only someone close to her would know. Who else could it be?” His unwavering certainty sliced straight through my chest. Footsteps approached from behind. Fiona slipped between us, keeping her eyes carefully averted from mine. “Mark, stop. Whether Iris did it or not, I don’t want to pursue this anymore.” I don’t want to pursue this. How beautifully ambiguous. She wasn’t defending my innocence; she was playing the saint who graciously forgave my supposed betrayal. She turned to me, her voice dripping with sweet concern. “Iris, don’t take it to heart. Mark is just worried about me.” The air between us turned ice-cold. I blinked away the tears, my gaze turning dead silent. “Let’s break up, Mark.” Mark looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “Over a few words? Seriously?” “Yes. Over this.” Fiona gasped, looking shocked. “Iris, don’t do this in the heat of the moment!” I looked directly at her. “And as for you, we are no longer friends.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away. We didn’t exchange a single word for the next few days. One afternoon, our class representative pulled me aside to hand over my official transfer slip. “Did you and Mark break up?” she whispered. I didn’t say a word, just gave a small nod. She winced. “People have been talking. Everyone’s seen him and Fiona lately. They eat lunch together every day and walk around the campus track every evening.” Walking around the track with Mark had always been a luxury I was denied. He always said walking was a waste of time, time better spent reading articles. “What transfer?” Mark’s voice cut in from behind us. I looked at him, my expression blank. “Nothing.” He reached out to take my hand, but I stepped back, letting his fingers grasp empty air. His brow furrowed. “You haven’t been to the lab in days. Are you abandoning your research, and your boyfriend?” I looked away. “We broke up, Mark.” Mark’s throat bobbed. He took a heavy step forward, forcing me to take half a step back. “Are you listening to those stupid campus rumors? Fiona is your best friend, and I am your boyfriend. You shouldn’t let cheap gossip get to you.” Gossip? Everyone in the department could see what was happening. If either of them had even an ounce of respect for boundaries, the rumors wouldn’t exist in the first place. A mocking smile touched my lips. Mark reached out and gave my hair a gentle, patronizing tug. “You’re always overthinking things.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was their professor. He answered, spoke briefly, and hung up. Looking back at me, he said, “You and Fiona haven’t hung out in a while. Once the lab project wraps up next Sunday, let’s all grab dinner.” With that, he turned and hurried off. There would be no next Sunday. My field research project had been approved, and my departure was set for three days from now. The next day, I went to the lab to pack up my personal belongings. As I reached the door, I saw Mark walking out, his arm casually draped over Fiona’s shoulder. Fiona called out to me, “Iris! Why haven’t you been coming to the lab lately?” My transfer had already been finalized in the system. I stared at his hand resting on her arm, then forced a flat smile. “I’ve been tired lately. I’m taking a break.” Mark gave a brief nod. “Good. Take some time to rest.” I returned to my room and began packing my bags. Just as I finished packing my suitcase, a message from Fiona flashed on my screen. Oh my god, Iris! You are literally the best friend ever! Mark told me you agreed to let me take first author on your research paper. Thank you so much! Next week’s dinner is on me! Below the text was a screenshot of the accepted journal paper. First Author: Fiona. Second Author: Iris. I had spent an entire year bleeding for this project. I had worked through migraines, ended up in the emergency room with acute gastritis from stress, and spent endless sleepless nights gathering that data. Fiona’s only contribution had been proofreading a few references. And Mark knew that better than anyone. I sat frozen in front of my desk, my mind completely blank. The next morning, I picked up my bags. Jenny hugged me tight, her eyes rimmed with red. “Stay safe out there.” I hugged her back, tears stinging my eyes. As I walked out toward the campus gates, a familiar laugh floated over from the path behind me. “Thanks to you, the paper got submitted smoothly,” Fiona’s voice giggled. “And these flowers are absolutely gorgeous. You have great taste.” “So, how are you going to thank me?” Mark’s voice replied, playful. Mark rode past me on his bicycle, Fiona sitting on the back, holding a massive, vibrant bouquet of flowers. Mark had severe allergic rhinitis. He had never bought me flowers, and had strictly forbidden me from bringing them anywhere near him. I didn’t look at them. I kept my eyes straight ahead, raised my hand, and hailed a taxi to the airport. Sitting in the airport terminal, my phone vibrated with a text from Mark. I need your help with an analysis in the lab. Get over here now. The boarding announcement echoed through the speakers. I stood up and smoothed my jacket. A second message popped up immediately: Where are you? Don’t make me wait. I typed out a final reply: You don’t have to wait for me ever again. Don’t look for me. I hit send, then blocked his number and every single one of his social media accounts. As the boarding call sounded again, I turned my back on the city and walked toward the gate.

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I rushed into the roaring fire to pull Ethan out, leaving myself with horrific, permanent burns. At the hospital, Ethan swore to God: “V Vivi, I will never let you suffer a single day for the rest of your life.” But the moment his new young secretary arrived, he sided with her on everything, constantly making things hard for me. “She’s just a young, innocent girl. You’re being too sensitive and paranoid.” “So what if she got the wedding dress style wrong? Is that really worth firing her over?” On our wedding day, I was locked in a dark, dusty utility room with zero cell service, unable to call for help. Instead of looking for me, Ethan held his young secretary’s hand and walked down the aisle. Seven years of deep love, a life risked to save him—and I was turned into the “other woman” in my own story. … “Vivian, get in here.” The text lit up my phone screen. The words practically dripped with coldness and resentment. In all the years I’d known Ethan, this was the first time he had ever called me by my full name instead of Vivi. As soon as I walked into his office, I ran straight into Chloe. Her eyes were red and welling with tears, looking like a fragile, kicked puppy. “Ms. Hale, I am so, so sorry. Please just give me one more chance,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know you hated your burn scars so much. It was my fault!” She was apologizing with her mouth, but her eyes were gleaming with pure provocation. Without my permission, she had taken it upon herself to call the bridal boutique and change my long-sleeved wedding dress to an off-the-shoulder gown. Not only would it expose my horrific scars to hundreds of guests, but it was also the dead of winter, with temperatures dropping below freezing. If the boutique hadn’t sent me a confirmation photo, I would have been completely humiliated on my own wedding day. It was a glaringly obvious trap, but Ethan refused to see it. “Vivian, so what if she made a mistake with the dress style? Is that really worth firing her over?” Ethan’s voice was sharp and accusing. Seeing that she had a protector, Chloe cried even harder, her tears falling like perfectly timed rain. Ethan instinctively reached for a tissue to hand to her. But maybe because he felt my burning glare, he stopped mid-motion and awkwardly sat back down. “Chloe, go back to your desk. No one is firing you. Just focus on your work,” he said, shielding her protectively. Chloe turned to leave. As she brushed past me, she let out a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. “Vivian, your temper has gotten so much worse lately,” Ethan sighed, rubbing his temples. “You used to be so lenient with the staff. Why are you so hostile toward Chloe?” He was genuinely baffled. In his mind, I was just relentlessly bullying a young girl. Ever since Chloe became his personal secretary, Ethan’s attitude toward me had shifted. Initially, he used to complain about how clumsy and incompetent she was, even asking me to fire her several times. But in just two short months, everything flipped. He started praising her constantly, his voice filled with admiration and trust. They became inseparable. People in the office were already whispering: “Wherever Ethan Vance is, Chloe Brooks is less than five feet away.” “Are you seriously blind, Ethan? Can’t you see she did this on purpose?” I demanded. I hated arguing over these petty things, but Ethan was refusing to give me a way out. “What kind of scheme could a young girl like her possibly have? You’re just paranoid.” He looked at me, his eyes suddenly darkening with doubt and a strange, twisted pain. “You hate your scars so much… Tell me, Vivian, do you regret saving me that night?” My breath hitched. That stormy night years ago. Ethan had gotten completely wasted at a business dinner, and I had hired a personal driver to take us home. But we hadn’t driven far before the car slammed into a utility pole and caught fire. Within seconds, the vehicle was engulfed in flames. Without a second thought for my own safety, I had dragged him out of the burning wreck. “Boom!” A violent explosion went off right behind us. I had shielded his body with mine, and my shoulder took the brunt of the blast, leaving me with third-degree burns. The young hired driver didn’t make it out in time. He died in that fiery wreck. Burn recovery is widely known as one of the most agonizing medical processes a person can endure. The bandages were constantly soaked with pus and blood. To cope with the excruciating pain, I had to take massive doses of painkillers. Seeing me in such agony, Ethan had been consumed by guilt and gratitude. He had held my hand, tears streaming down his face, and sworn: “Vivi, I’m so sorry. I caused you all this pain. I swear to God, I will never let you suffer a single day for the rest of your life. If I ever break this promise, may my life fall into ruin.” Life loves to play cruel jokes. It hands you a beautiful dream, only to crush it right before your eyes. To protect Chloe, he was actively rubbing salt into my oldest, deepest wound. “Seven years, Ethan. We’ve been together for seven years, and this is really what you think of me?” My chest ached so badly that tears finally spilled over. We had built this company from nothing. We had starved together, struggled through the worst of times, and finally made it to the top. Just a year ago, he had gotten down on one knee and proposed to me in front of everyone, crying like a baby. I had always been the strong one. Seeing me cry now flustered him. Ethan stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around me, his tone softening. “Vivi, don’t cry. I get it. What woman doesn’t want to look beautiful on her wedding day?” he murmured. “But you have to face your scars. You can’t just take your anger out on innocent people. Chloe is still young and inexperienced. There’s no need to hold a grudge against a kid.” It sounded like comfort, but every single word was still defending Chloe.

A cold gel was smeared across my lower abdomen, and the ultrasound transducer slid gently over my skin. “Congratulations, Vivian. You are eight weeks pregnant. The fetus is very healthy.” The words hit me like a shockwave. I had thought I could never be a mother. To heal my severe burn scars back then, I had taken a massive amount of hormonal medications and heavy painkillers. Asher Cole, my primary doctor and dermatologist, had frowned when he looked at my charts years ago, warning me that the heavy medication might leave me infertile. I had broken down in hysterics. Ethan had held me tight, kissing away my tears. “As long as I have you, I don’t care about kids. You are my only baby,” he had promised. That promise had been my anchor. But to the Vance family, it was a declaration of war. “Ethan, you better think carefully,” his father had roared when he found out about our engagement. “If you marry this woman, it means you’ll have no heir. As the only son of the Vance family, you won’t inherit a single dime of our estate.” His father had tried everything to tear us apart. But Ethan had stood firm. He had been willing to walk away from his entire family fortune just to marry me. My hands shook as I dialed Ethan’s number. I couldn’t wait to share this miracle with him. But when the call connected, a sweet, cloying voice answered instead. “Hello? Vivi?” It was Chloe. “Chloe, let me make this very clear,” I snapped, refusing to play her games. “As long as you are an employee of this company, you will address me as Ms. Hale.” She paused, clearly taken aback, before putting on her usual meek tone. “Ms. Hale, is there something you need?” “Put Ethan on the phone. I have something important to tell him.” “Oh, I’m sorry, but Mr. Vance doesn’t want to take any calls right now. Especially yours,” she said, letting out a soft, mocking giggle. Before I could say another word, she hung up. Since our last argument in his office, we had been in a cold war for an entire week. Neither of us had spoken a word, each waiting for the other to apologize. In the past, whenever we fought, Ethan would always swallow his pride and apologize the very next day, regardless of who was at fault. He knew how stubborn I was, and he was always afraid I’d stress myself out and ruin my health. Now, because of Chloe, he wouldn’t even give me a bridge to cross. “You’re thirty years old, Vivian, not some college girl. Stop throwing tantrums.” “I suggest you drop this attitude. There’s a limit to how long you can milk this.” Those were the last words he had said to me before jetting off on an out-of-town business trip with Chloe. But life is unpredictable. Just as I was starting to seriously question my future with Ethan, this tiny new life appeared. It was as if this baby knew how desperately I, a girl who grew up in a broken home, craved a real family. I decided to compromise for the sake of our child. The moment Ethan saw the pregnancy report, his cold, stony face instantly melted. He wept tears of pure joy, scooping me up and spinning me around the room. “Vivi, thank you. Thank you for making me a father.” He kissed my face repeatedly, and just like that, our relationship seemed to snap back to the way it used to be. But the morning sickness hit me hard. I spent my days dizzy, exhausted, and nauseous. Seeing how much I was struggling, Ethan insisted I stop going to the office. He made me stay home to rest and even hired a personal nutritionist to prepare all my meals. Even Ethan’s mother, who had treated me like dirt for years, suddenly softened her attitude. She started visiting, bringing over various expensive supplements. But when she walked in and saw me hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving violently, her face hardened. “You should be grateful your body could even carry a child. That’s thanks to my son’s good genetics, you know,” she said coldly. “Stop being so dramatic. You need to eat, or the baby won’t get any nutrients.” She shoved a bowl of a thick, organic homeopathic prenatal tonic under my nose. I forced myself to take two sips, but my stomach immediately revolted. I threw up everything, even coughing up yellow bile. “Oh my god! Don’t do that, it’s disgusting!” his mother shrieked, backing away. “What a complete waste of expensive ingredients.” She glared at me and stormed out. The Vance family had always looked down on me. No matter how hard I worked to help Ethan build his business, in their eyes, I was just a low-class girl trying to climb the social ladder.

Ethan took a day off to accompany me to the bridal boutique for our final fitting. Because of the pregnancy, my body had filled out, and the dress measurements needed to be adjusted. “Does this one look better, or the other one?” I asked, looking at him for feedback. “Yeah, both are fine,” he muttered, not even looking up. His fingers were flying across his phone screen, his brow furrowed in a deep frown. “Ethan, this is our wedding fitting. Can you please put the work away for just one hour?” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to suppress the hormonal rage bubbling in my chest. He finally put his phone down and tried to focus on the dresses, but within two minutes, his phone rang. “Don’t panic, Chloe. Send me your location right now. I’m coming.” “Don’t cry. I’m on my way.” Ethan hung up in a panic, already standing up to leave, completely ignoring me. I grabbed his arm, my voice shaking with suppressed anger. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Chloe said there’s a stalker following her. She’s terrified. I have to go help her.” “Why doesn’t she call the police? You aren’t her bodyguard, Ethan.” “She’s a young girl, Vivian! When people are terrified, they don’t think straight. She panicked and called me.” “Ethan, please. Don’t go. I need you here today,” I pleaded, swallowing my pride, begging him with my eyes. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but then his phone buzzed again with a frantic text. He shook his hand free from my grip. “Vivian, when did you become so cold and heartless?” he said, his voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “You used to be the kind of person who wouldn’t even step on an ant.” He left. He chose to play the hero for Chloe. Later, I found out Chloe had clung to him, crying about how scared she was to go home. He spent the entire night at a hotel with her, claiming he couldn’t leave a traumatized girl alone. He didn’t come home that night. On the morning of our wedding, I received a text from an unknown number: “If you want to see the private photos of Ethan and me, come to the second-floor utility room.” The utility room was empty and dark. I walked in cautiously, using my phone flashlight to guide my way. “Slam!” The heavy door shut behind me, and the lock clicked. I was trapped. Dust swirled in the air, making me cough violently. I checked my phone—no service. I had been set up. The ceremony was starting in ten minutes. I tried to calm myself down. Once Ethan realized I was missing, he would definitely search the venue and find me. This hotel wasn’t that big. But minutes turned into an agonizing half-hour. There were no footsteps, no voices calling my name. The silence was deafening. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I pounded on the door with all my might, screaming for help until my throat was raw. Finally, an hour later, a housekeeping lady unlocked the door. She gasped, horrified by my pale, sweat-drenched appearance. “Oh my goodness, dear! What happened? Why were you locked in there?” “The wedding…” I gasped, grabbing her arm. “Is the groom still upstairs? Is everyone panicked?” The maid looked at me with confusion and pity. “The wedding? Honey, the ceremony finished half an hour ago. The reception is in full swing upstairs.” The words felt like a physical blow. I tried to convince myself it must be another couple’s wedding. But when I stumbled up to the grand ballroom, the scene before me shattered my soul. On the decorated stage, Chloe was wearing my custom-made wedding dress, looking like a blooming princess, holding a bouquet of white lilies. And honestly, she looked beautiful in it. So young, so flawless. The ballroom was packed with high-society guests. Ethan was holding Chloe’s hand, walking table to table, smiling and raising his glass. They looked like the perfect, golden couple. A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest. It felt like an iron band was wrapping around my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, a violent cramp seized my lower abdomen. “My baby… you regret coming into this family too, don’t you?” The operating room smelled strongly of disinfectant. “Ms. Hale, you are twelve weeks pregnant. Are you absolutely sure you want to terminate the pregnancy?” the doctor asked softly, a hint of pity in her eyes. I nodded slowly, lying flat on the cold table, staring at the ceiling as the anesthesia began to take effect. When I finally woke up, the door opened. It was Asher. Ever since he treated my burns years ago, we had remained close friends. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with heartache. “Vivi… no regrets?” I didn’t answer. He reached out and gently wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “Doctor, is that the baby?” I turned my head, pointing to the silver tray nearby. It was so tiny. Just a small, silent mass of tissue, but I could already trace the faint, delicate shape of a face. It looked just like Ethan. I carefully wrapped the sterile container in tissue and placed it inside a small, elegant white gift box. “Be good, sweetie. Mommy is going to take you to see your father and your grandparents.”

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I was looking at the interior design blueprints for our future house with Ethan. He insisted on installing a suspended swing chair on the south-facing balcony. I reminded him, “I have severe acrophobia. Even a tiny bit of suspension makes my head spin.” He casually flipped through the color palette. “It’s romantic to sit there once in a while. You can get over it.” It wasn’t until that night that the algorithm pushed Chloe’s secret Instagram account to me. Five years ago, Ethan had left a comment under one of her posts: “In our future home, I will definitely install your favorite swing chair on the balcony.” Staring at the screen, the dizziness in my head suddenly vanished. The next day, I went to the sales gallery. Calmly, I crossed my name off the joint purchase contract. The sales agent looked at me in shock. I smiled. “This apartment isn’t a good fit. I’m not buying it anymore.” Ethan had no idea that I had already paid in full for a luxury penthouse on the Southside. The balcony there was filled only with roses, my absolute favorite.

“The manufacturer confirmed the swing chair will arrive next Wednesday. The steel cables are aviation-grade and can hold up to four hundred pounds. I tested it myself.” Ethan didn’t even change his shoes when he walked in. He shoved his phone right in front of my face. The screen showed a 3D rendering of a white hanging basket chair. I was washing dishes in the kitchen, the faucet running. He held the phone closer. “We can add a woven rattan fence around the base. Didn’t you say you’re afraid of heights? With the fence, you won’t feel suspended at all.” How thoughtful. Because what a person with severe acrophobia needs most is a swing chair suspended two meters high, wrapped in a rattan fence. “I won’t sit on it.” “Here we go again.” He laughed, wrapping his arm around my waist. “You can just watch me sit on it from the living room. Just treat it as decor. It looks nice.” Decor. Three hours ago, I had just returned from the sales gallery. My name had been crossed out, stroke by stroke, from the purchase contract. The agent’s ballpoint pen had left a harsh blue ink smear. And here he was, still picking out color swatches. I turned off the faucet. “Ethan, did you look at Chloe’s Instagram today?” His hand on my lower back froze. It wasn’t guilt. It was the reflexive irritation of someone having a name brought up that he thought was long buried. “What Instagram?” “Her finsta. The post from five years ago.” He let go of me and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Why were you snooping through her Instagram?” “The algorithm recommended it.” “So, you spent the middle of the night digging through my ex-girlfriend’s private account, found a five-year-old comment, and now you’re interrogating me?” He opened the fridge, grabbed a can of beer, and popped the tab with a sharp crack. “Sienna, you’re twenty-six years old.” That sentence sounded uglier than any excuse he could have made. He didn’t say I was petty. He didn’t say I was throwing a tantrum. He just reminded me of my age, implying that my behavior was too immature for twenty-six. “That swing chair is Chloe’s favorite thing.” “It’s also something I find aesthetically pleasing. Do those two things have to conflict?” “You know damn well I’m terrified of heights.” “That’s why I added the fence.” He took a sip of beer and tapped the can against the counter. “Sienna, I’m already compromising here. You can’t keep pushing me.” Compromise. Slapping a band-aid on something that shouldn’t have been there in the first place is what he called a compromise. “Let’s break up.” The TV was playing a home renovation show. The designer was talking about maximizing balcony space. Ethan took a bite of a watermelon slice, chewing slowly. “Just because of a chair?” “Because that chair was meant for Chloe.” “She casually mentioned she liked it years ago, and I thought the design was good, so I added it to the layout. Are you seriously taking this so out of proportion that you want to break up?” He stood up, towering over me. “You put down three hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the down payment. You’re just going to throw that away?” “Yes. I don’t want it anymore.” “Sienna.” His voice dropped, a dangerous undercurrent rising. “Take those words back right now, and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear them. If you keep pushing this, it won’t be about the chair anymore.” It wasn’t about the chair. It was about me. It was always about me. My phone rang. It was Harper. The moment I picked up, she exploded. “Sienna, did you see that Instagram post? I took a screenshot—” “I saw it. Help me book a moving company for tomorrow. I don’t have much. One trip will do.” I hung up. Ethan’s expression finally shifted. “Why are you moving?” “To pack my things.” “Moving where?” I didn’t answer. The key in my bag pressed hard against my knuckles. A 1,500-square-foot luxury penthouse, paid in full. The cold metal felt like an anchor of pure relief. He stared at me for five seconds, then smirked. “Fine. Go ahead and throw your tantrum. Let me know when you’ve had enough.” He turned, walked into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut. I leaned against the counter, hearing him turn on his iPad almost immediately. The sound of a video leaked through the gap under the door. He didn’t care at all. A few minutes later, his voice drifted out from behind the door. “Don’t forget to go to the leasing office this weekend to sign the final renovation approval. Both of us need to be there. Don’t forget.”

“My project is at a critical phase right now, and I don’t have the energy to deal with your mood swings. Think about it yourself.” The next morning, Ethan set his black suitcase by the door. His shirt was buttoned all the way to the top. He looked like he was leaving for a business trip, not a cold war. “There are leftovers in the fridge. Just microwave them.” His tone even carried a hint of forced tenderness. Leaving me a way out, waiting for me to back down. Every fight we had followed this exact routine: he would freeze me out for a few days, I would panic, I would apologize first, and he would graciously forgive me. For two years, it had been as smooth as a programmed script. “When will you be back?” I asked. “Whenever you come to your senses.” The door clicked shut. The sound of his dress shoes on the stairs grew more confident with every step. I stood by the window and watched his black sedan pull out of the parking garage and disappear around the corner. I pulled out my phone and called the property management of my new place. “Hi, this is Sienna. I’m in Penthouse 2301, Building B on the Southside. I’ll be over this afternoon to pick up the spare key and activate my key fob.” Twenty minutes later, Harper showed up at my door with two cups of coffee. “The movers will be here at nine-thirty. Do you have a lot of stuff?” “Not really. Just clothes, a few boxes of books, and a suitcase. He bought all the big furniture.” She scanned the living room, her eyes landing on the pair of men’s slippers by the shoe rack. “Sienna, you’ve been with Ethan for two years. The things in this apartment that actually belong to you can be counted on one hand?” I knelt down to drag a box out from the bottom of the closet. “He said he wanted a unified aesthetic for the apartment. He told me not to clutter it.” “Where’s your floor lamp? The one I saw last time?” “He thought it was ugly and made me return it.” “And that art print?” “He said it didn’t match the living room’s color palette.” “Where is your cat?” Harper’s voice suddenly dropped. “The white cat you had for three years?” I didn’t answer. She stood up straight and stared at me. “When he forced you to give your cat away, why didn’t you break up with him then?” “He said having a cat would affect our future pregnancy. I thought he made sense back then.” “And now?” I packed my books into the cardboard box, one by one. “Now I realize that a home that couldn’t even tolerate my cat was never my home to begin with.” By ten-thirty, everything was packed. Seven boxes in total, plus one suitcase. Two years of my life fit into less than half of a moving truck. The mover looked at the beautifully furnished apartment, then at my tiny pile of luggage. He didn’t ask a single question. As we drove out of the gate, my phone buzzed. Ethan had sent a voice note. I tapped play. “The cafeteria food at the office is terrible today. Eat out for lunch. And don’t forget to pay this month’s HOA fees.” His breathing was steady, and I could hear people laughing and talking in the background. Then, a soft female voice floated in from nearby: “Ethan…” It was gentle, sweet, with a playful lilt at the end. The voice lingered in my mind for less than a second, but that was enough. Harper leaned in. “Who was that?” “I’m not sure.” “Replay it.” “Forget it.” I put my phone away and cleared the chat. My new place on the Southside had just been completed late last year, fully furnished by the developer. I had paid an extra two hundred thousand to get the top floor, with a clear view of the entire river on the left. The building manager who took me up mentioned that there were only two units on this floor. My neighbor was an architect who was still in the middle of remodeling. I turned the key, and the door opened. The living room was empty and spacious, flooded with sunlight from the south-facing French windows. On the balcony stood an iron flower rack left by the previous owner, covered in a thin layer of rust. I walked out to the balcony and looked down. Twenty-third floor. The wind was strong. But my head didn’t spin at all. My phone lit up. A text from Ethan. “Come back when you’ve thought it through. Don’t make me wait too long.” I dragged his chat to the very bottom of my archive list. I didn’t delete him, and I didn’t block him. I just let him sink. Harper leaned against the doorframe, watching me. “He doesn’t know you bought this place, does he?” “No.” “So what does he think he’s doing right now?” I hung my keys on the hook by the door. “He thinks he’s punishing me.”

“Sienna! You’re here? Ethan is in a meeting inside. Do you want me to call him out for you?” Ethan’s coworker, Justin, came out of the breakroom holding an iced Americano. When he saw me signing the visitor log at the front desk, he greeted me with a warm smile. I held up a ziplock bag containing the key fob to the shared apartment. “No need. Just leave this at the front desk.” He leaned in to take a closer look—the blue key fob was glaringly obvious inside the clear plastic bag. His smile froze for a fraction of a second. “Sienna, you guys aren’t playing around, are you?” “Just hand it to him for me, please.” “No, no, no.” He grabbed my arm. “Ethan’s been living at the office the past couple of days, looking like he’s ready to sue someone. Since you’re already here, come on in and sit.” Before I could refuse, he pulled me toward the end of the hallway. “The conference room is on the left. Sit down, and I’ll grab you a cup of water.” The door was slightly ajar. There wasn’t just one voice inside. Several men were laughing, mixed with a soft, feminine chuckle—sweet, with a hint of flirtation. “Ethan, I emailed you the design drafts. The client specifically requested this style, and it happens to be your expertise.” It was Chloe. Through the crack in the door, I saw her. The girl with the ponytail from the five-year-old Instagram profile picture had fully grown up. She wore an off-the-shoulder dress, her wavy hair draped over one shoulder, sitting diagonally across from Ethan, holding a custom mug. She looked entirely at ease, as if she were having afternoon tea in her own living room. Justin’s voice piped up from behind me. “Ethan, has Sienna cooled down yet? It’s been four days.” Ethan’s voice was flat, like he was reading a tedious weekly report. “I don’t know.” “Aren’t you going to call her? She’s home alone,” another male voice said. “If she wants to throw a fit, let her. If I give in this time, how am I supposed to keep her in line in the future?” Keep her in line. He used that phrase. Like training a disobedient pet. —That was probably how he “kept in line” the cat he forced me to give away. Chloe’s voice chimed in right on cue, low and dripping with mock apology. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t casually mentioned back then that I liked swing chairs, Ethan wouldn’t have… Sienna must have misunderstood. Should I reach out and explain it to her?” She called me Sienna. But her tone carried a patronizing weight. She was actually two years older than me. “No need.” Ethan sounded slightly annoyed. “If you explain it, it’ll only make things worse. That’s just how she is—smart with big things, but clueless about the small details. Just leave her alone for a few days, and she’ll crawl back on her own.” Leave her alone. She’ll crawl back. Like a stray pet that would naturally find its way home once it got hungry enough. The door was pushed open. Justin walked in with a paper cup, and when he saw me still standing in the hallway, a look of pure embarrassment flashed across his face. Ethan’s gaze cut through the doorway and locked onto mine. He stood up and walked to the door. Not to welcome me. But to block me. He didn’t want me to step into that room. Or rather, he didn’t want Chloe and me in the same space. “What are you doing here?” “Returning the key fob.” I handed him the plastic bag. He looked down at it but didn’t reach out to take it. “Had enough of your tantrum?” “Keep the key fob. The utilities for the apartment have already been transferred under your name.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. From behind him, Chloe’s voice drifted out, perfectly pitched. “Ethan, don’t forget to reply to my email.” He didn’t turn around, just gave a brief wave of his hand. It was an incredibly casual, intimate gesture. The kind reserved only for people you knew inside out. “Sienna, where are you staying right now?” “None of your business.” “What do you mean ‘none of my business’? The contract still has your name on it—” “Not anymore.” He froze, but only for a second. He probably thought I was just talking out of anger. “Fine. Go home first. We’ll talk after I finish this project.” He finally took the key fob. Holding the corner of the plastic bag with two fingers, as if holding something entirely trivial. I turned and walked toward the elevator. Before the doors closed, laughter erupted from the conference room again. Chloe was saying something in her soft, sweet voice. The elevator reached the lobby. My phone buzzed. A three-second voice note from Ethan. “Come back this weekend. The apartment needs cleaning.”

“Sienna, babe, sorry to bother you. It’s Chloe.” The friend request popped up at nine in the evening. I had just finished planting the last rose bush into the soil of my balcony rack. Her profile picture was a blurry, backlit photo. The request message was just that one line. I stared at it for three seconds before tapping accept. The reply came almost instantly. It was like she had been waiting. “Sienna, I am so incredibly sorry. The whole swing chair thing is entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have said those things to Ethan in the past and caused a misunderstanding between you two.” Her punctuation was perfect, every sentence ending with a neat period. It read as formal as a corporate email. “You know how Ethan is—he has a typical guy’s brain. He just thought it looked nice and used it; he didn’t think much of it. He really didn’t mean anything else by it, I can promise you that.” Three messages in a row, sent in one breath. I didn’t reply. She waited thirty seconds before sending another. “Please don’t be mad at him, okay? Men are like that—they don’t know how to express themselves, but he really cares about you deep down. He barely slept at the office these past few nights.” Leaning against my balcony flower rack, the cool wind from the twenty-third floor swept over me, carrying the scent of damp soil. I typed out a single line and sent it. “You call me ‘babe,’ but you’re two years older than me.” The typing indicator on her end disappeared for three seconds. When she typed again, her tone was even softer. “Sorry, slip of the tongue. Sienna, I’m only saying this because I don’t want you and Ethan to have friction because of me.” “Whether Ethan and I have friction has absolutely nothing to do with you.” “I know you must feel hurt. Any girl would feel hurt seeing that old Instagram comment. But that was truly five years ago.” Five years ago. He had left a total of forty-seven comments under her Instagram posts. “That new lipstick looks great on you.” “Don’t forget to eat when you work late, or I’ll get mad.” “In our future home, I will definitely install your favorite swing chair on the balcony.” Forty-seven comments. Yet in the two years he was with me, he hadn’t left a single comment on my page. “Chloe, did you text me to apologize for him, or to clean up his mess?” Read, but no reply. Five minutes later, she sent a voice note. I didn’t play it. At the exact same time, Ethan’s call came through. I picked up. “Did you add Chloe?” His voice was freezing, laced with suppressed rage. “She added me.” “What did you say to her?” “None of your business.” “Sienna.” He took a deep breath. “I asked her to reach out and explain things to you. Don’t take your anger out on her.” He asked her to explain things to me. He had his ex-girlfriend explain to his current girlfriend that he wasn’t secretly yearning for her. “Do you honestly think that makes any sense?” “If you won’t listen to me, you have to listen to someone else, right?” “So in your mind, I’m always the one who needs to be managed and convinced.” “You’re already being unreasonable—” “Fine,” I interrupted. “Then let Chloe keep trying to convince me. Let’s see how far she gets.” I hung up. He called back immediately. I declined. Third time, fourth time. By the fifth time, I turned off my phone. The wind on the balcony stopped, and the clouds hung incredibly low. The leaves of the rose bushes drooped slightly, but their roots were firmly planted. I turned my phone back on. A message from Harper popped up: “Should I bring red wine or champagne to the housewarming party tomorrow?” “Red wine.” Another text followed: “Are we posting pictures on Instagram?” I thought about it for a second and replied, “Whatever you want.” She immediately sent a voice note, her voice bursting with sheer delight. “Oh, I’m not holding back then. Sienna, that south-facing balcony of yours with the rose racks is going to keep him staring at his Instagram feed for three straight days.”

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When I brought my third boyfriend, Tyler, home to meet my mother, I repeatedly warned him not to eat her homemade macaroni. But he just ruffled my hair, smiling dismissively. “Maybe the first two guys were just a coincidence, Chloe? Don’t overthink it. We don’t want to hurt your mom’s feelings.” A few minutes later, sitting at the dining table, he ignored my frantic eye signals and took a huge bite of the macaroni. My chest tightened. I silently began to count down in my head. “Three. Two. One.” Right on cue, Tyler’s face contorted into pure terror. He slammed his chair back and bolted out of the front door. He ran straight onto the busy road outside. Before the oncoming semi-truck could slam on its brakes, the tires screeched, crushing him instantly under the chassis. My body went numb. I collapsed onto the asphalt, screaming and crying hysterically. The bright afternoon sun beat down on me, yet I felt an icy, piercing cold. Instinctively, I looked up at our balcony. My mother, Sarah, was standing there. She watched the bloody scene with cold, vacant eyes, as if the man who had just died was a complete stranger. Amidst the horrified murmurs of the gathering crowd, I lost my mind. I ran back upstairs, slammed the door, and screamed at her in despair. “What did you put in that macaroni?! Why do you hate my happiness so much?!” “Is it because Dad left you, so you can’t stand to see me with any man?!” Those were the toxic rumors whispered by the neighbors behind our backs. But at that moment, my mental stability had completely shattered. I didn’t care anymore. A flicker of something complex and unreadable crossed my mother’s eyes. “It has nothing to do with me,” she said flatly, before turning and locking herself in her bedroom. I clenched my fists. Outside, the neighbors were whispering on the sidewalk, filming our house for TikTok. Without another second of hesitation, I dialed 911. The police arrived with grave faces and escorted my mother out of the house. They took the leftover macaroni to the forensics lab for a full toxicology report. But the results only left me more confused. There was absolutely nothing in the macaroni. No poison, no chemicals, nothing. My mother sat in the interrogation room, facing the swarm of local reporters. No matter how hard they pressed, her only response was: “It has nothing to do with me.” The case became an internet sensation, shrouded in mystery. Once someone leaked the story on Reddit, our house was surrounded by hundreds of looky-loos every day. The online comment section became a breeding ground for wild theories. “What kind of macaroni makes you want to commit suicide after one bite?” “I’d pay good money for that recipe. Need to send some to my ex, seriously.” Inside the house, my mother and I were trapped, staring at each other. Looking at my bloodshot, tear-stained eyes, she sighed. “Why do you do this to yourself, Chloe? Do you really believe I murdered them?” “If not you, then who?! Nothing makes sense! The only common link is that damn bowl of macaroni!” “Mom, I’m begging you, just tell me the truth. Every time I close my eyes, I see Tyler’s mutilated face. I’m going insane…” I fell to my knees, my vision blurring with tears. My mother hadn’t always been like this. But after my seventeenth birthday, she became a completely different person. She stopped smiling, and she treated every boy who came near me with cold hostility. But I still couldn’t bring myself to believe that my own mother wanted me to suffer. Seeing me on the floor, she sighed with weary resignation. She went into her room, packed two large suitcases, and dragged them to the front door, throwing them at my feet. “If you distrust me this much, then leave.” “From this day on, pretend you don’t have a mother.”

I was kicked out. Devastated, I moved back into my college dorm. Even during the breaks, I applied for housing exemptions and stayed on campus. I didn’t go home for six months. My mother blocked my number. She never reached out to me, not even once. After graduation, I landed an internship at a marketing firm, where a guy named Ethan started pursuing me. He knew about my dark past, but he didn’t care. He wanted to protect me. A year later, we got engaged. In the days leading up to the engagement party, I couldn’t sleep, crippled by anxiety. But I kept reassuring myself: “I’m far away from my mother now. Nothing will go wrong this time. It can’t.” The party went beautifully. As the night wound down, the heavy weight in my chest finally began to lift. But during the final toast, Ethan playfully covered my eyes, whispering that he had a surprise for me. A sudden dread washed over me. When I opened my eyes, my mother was standing in front of me. Ethan nudged my nose gently. “I know you’ve been missing your mom. Since we only get married once, I invited her as a surprise.” Swallowing my fear, I looked at her. She had aged terribly over the past two years. Deep wrinkles carved her face. After all, she was the one who raised me. For a split second, a wave of heartbreaking nostalgia hit me. “Mom,” I choked out. But she didn’t even look at me. She pulled out a small container of macaroni and held it out to Ethan. Ethan and I exchanged a worried glance. He politely declined, and I let out a breath of relief. I stepped forward, trying to grab the container from her hands. “Mom, please don’t do this. Today is my engagement party, just let us…” Before I could finish, my mother suddenly went wild. She forced the container open and shoved a spoonful of the macaroni into Ethan’s mouth. Ethan swallowed it reflexively. Instantly, his face went pale, and his eyes filled with absolute, primal terror. The next second, he violently shattered the glass window of the venue and leaped from the eighth floor. My fiancé died right before my eyes. The venue erupted into pure chaos. Ethan’s hysterical parents grabbed my mother by her throat, screaming for her life. “My son did nothing to you! Why did you kill him?!” “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you myself!” My mother fainted from the assault, and the angry crowd turned their wrath on me. “I heard about her! Everyone she dates dies! She’s a cursed witch!” “Make her eat the macaroni! Make her eat it!” My heart was already dead. Without waiting for them to force me, I grabbed the fallen container and stuffed the remaining macaroni into my mouth. I didn’t care if I died. I just wanted an answer. But ten minutes passed, and I felt completely normal. The police arrived and took both my mother and me back to the precinct. “It’s you two again,” Detective Vance said, rubbing his temples in frustration. “What is in this food?” Baffled, the police formed a special task force. They even flew in an occult expert from New Orleans, a specialist in dark voodoo and curses, to inspect the macaroni. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with this food,” the expert concluded, sighing. Once again, the investigation hit a dead end. An older, dedicated detective on the force decided to take a risk and ate a portion of the macaroni himself. The other officers held him back, terrified he would jump out a window. But just like me, the detective suffered no ill effects whatsoever. With no physical evidence, the police had no choice but to release my mother. Ethan’s family looked at me with venomous hatred. “Just promise me you’ll never date anyone again, you monster,” his mother wept. “Stay away from innocent people.” With nowhere else to go, I had no choice but to follow my mother back to her house.

After the incident, the “Macaroni Curse” blew up on TikTok and Reddit again. “That’s the fourth victim. What kind of dark magic is this?” “I’m done making jokes. The daughter must be living in a horror movie, watching her fiancé die like that.” Netizens began analyzing the lives of my four exes, trying to find some common flaw—infidelity, hidden crimes—to justify their deaths. But only I knew the truth. None of them were bad guys. I mindlessly scrolled through the comments, my mind filled with memories of Ethan. College had been so hard, but Ethan was always there, saving me from my own darkness. He was kind, compassionate, and never raised his voice at anyone. He was such a good man. We were one step away from our happy ending. Why did my mother have to destroy it? I locked myself in my room, refusing to eat or drink. The next morning, my mother knocked on my door. “How long are you going to throw this tantrum? Are you trying to kill yourself to punish me?” Her brow was furrowed with deep concern, looking exactly like the loving mother she used to be. But I knew it was an illusion. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I just can’t eat,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Just tell me what’s in the macaroni. Why is everyone else fine, but my boyfriends always…” My voice faded into quiet sobs. My mother’s expression softened into something incredibly complex. “I told you, their deaths have nothing to do with me. I’m not hiding anything from you. Even the police found nothing, didn’t they?” Since the incident, the police had placed our house under constant surveillance. But there was indeed no evidence connecting her to any crime. “Then what is happening?!” I screamed in agony. “Am I just not allowed to be loved? Is that it?!” “Anyone who truly loves you is cursed,” my mother sighed. “Next week is your twenty-third birthday. You’ll get your answers then.” “So stop starving yourself. I need you to survive until that day.” I snapped my head up, a glimmer of hope returning to my eyes. “Really?” “Yes. The macaroni is on the table. Go eat.” She gave me one long, deep look before turning away. Watching her walk away, I noticed how hunched and frail her back had become. I felt a pang of pity, but I quickly shook it off. My soft-heartedness was the very weapon that killed the people I loved. Sitting at the table, I choked down her famous cheese macaroni, tasting nothing but my own tears. Ethan’s death had nearly broken me. I had thought about ending it all. But a small, persistent voice in my head kept telling me there was more to this story. Before Ethan jumped, he had turned and looked at me. There was no fear of being controlled in his eyes. Only a deep, agonizing sorrow of leaving me behind. Could it be… he did it willingly? I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I finished the food and went back to my room to piece the puzzle together. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Detective Vance. “Any new leads? You’re living with her, you need to be extremely careful.” We had become close over the years due to the recurring cases. I typed back: “No leads yet. But she said she’s throwing me a birthday party next week. She promised to explain everything.” Detective Vance sent back a series of urgent voice notes. “This could be our breakthrough. Chloe, I need you to install a hidden camera in your living room. We’re going to catch her in the act and end this once and for all.” I agreed. The next day, I discreetly set up a hidden camera in the living room corner. For the next week, I acted completely normal around my mother. She seemed to have reverted to her old self, though she spent most of her time just staring at me in silence. Whenever I asked what she was thinking, she would turn away. Finally, my birthday arrived. She baked a cake and lit twenty-three candles. I took a bite and forced a smile. “Thanks, Mom. It’s sweet.” But when I leaned in to blow out the candles, my mother suddenly grabbed my wrist. Her face was contorted in pain. “I need to tell you about your father.” I froze. For as long as I could remember, we had been a single-parent household. Whenever I asked about my dad as a kid, she would shut down. Did my father’s death have something to do with Ethan and the others? “I know the neighbors say I cursed your father to death,” my mother began, her voice trembling. “But that’s a lie. I killed him myself.” “He had partnered with some dangerous people. He wanted to sell you off to pay his debts. I had to stop him.” “Since that day, I vowed never to trust another man.” I sat there, paralyzed by a cold, nightmare-like dread. “Even if that’s true, Mom… that doesn’t justify murdering my four boyfriends!” My mother ignored my outburst and continued, “You’re twenty-three now. You’re an adult. You don’t need me to worry about you anymore.” “Even when I’m gone, you have to survive. Remember, your life doesn’t just belong to you.” “Mom, what are you talking about?” I asked, thoroughly confused. Suddenly, her face went blank, as if a switch had been flipped. She violently shoved me into my bedroom and locked the door from the outside. “No matter what you hear out there, do not open this door!”

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Ever since we were kids, my sister, Chloe, loved stealing my things. From a tiny hairclip to our parents’ love. Today, she caught me holding hands with Julian Vance, the school’s golden boy, in the secluded pathway behind the campus library. That night, in my bedroom, Chloe squinted her eyes and asked: “Elena, are you secretly dating Julian? He’s gorgeous.” “Don’t tell Mom and Dad,” I said, anxiously clutching the hem of my shirt. “And don’t even think about stealing him!” Chloe smirked. “Why would I steal him from you?” Seeing her determined look, I secretly let out a sigh of relief. Finally. I could dump this abusive, psychopathic monster onto her. …… My nightmare started three months ago. Julian confessed his love to me in front of the entire school. Roses and balloons filled the football field. He was the golden boy, the male lead in every girl’s dream. I became the “lucky girl” everyone envied. But no one knew that once the doors were closed, his gentleness was a complete lie. In an empty corner of the library, his fingers brushed against my cheek, but his grip was so tight my jaw ached. “Babe, how many words did you say to that guy today? Hmm?” “I… I just asked him about the homework,” I stammered, trembling with fear. He smiled warmly. But in the next second, he suddenly grabbed my throat and slammed me hard against the wall. “Did I ever tell you that I hate it when other guys look at my things?” As suffocating pain kicked in, I stared into his crazed, obsessed eyes, desperately clawing at his arm. Just when I thought I was going to die, he suddenly let go. He lifted my chin and wiped away my tears with his thumb. “Elena, don’t be scared. I just love you too much.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Be a good girl. Stay away from all other guys, and I won’t get mad.” At that moment, I wanted to run. But I couldn’t escape. But Chloe moved even faster than I expected. At dinner, she twirled her pasta on her fork and brought it up as if it were nothing. “Mom, I think Elena has been acting weird lately.” “She’s always sneaking into her room to make FaceTime calls. I don’t know who she’s talking to, but she has this super sweet smile on her face.” Mom froze, immediately turning her sharp gaze toward me. “Elena, are you dating someone?” My chest tightened. I purposely lowered my head, acting flustered. “No, don’t talk nonsense.” The more I “resisted,” the more certain Mom became. Chloe smirked, throwing more fuel on the fire. “I’ve seen the guy. It’s Julian Vance, right? He’s incredibly hot, and his family is filthy rich! The girls chasing him could line up from the school gates to the West End.” “Really?” Mom’s eyes instantly lit up. That night, Chloe sneaked into my bedroom. She climbed onto my bed and leaned close to my ear, her voice buzzing with excitement. “Elena, your boyfriend is so wild. I saw you guys today.” She squinted like a cat that had just stolen some cream. “He looks way better than those losers chasing me.” “He… he’s mine,” I said, clutching my shirt tightly. “Don’t you dare try to take him!” “Why would I steal him from you?” She laughed, her expression innocent yet wicked. “I just think such a good catch is totally wasted on you.” Looking at her determined face, I secretly sighed in relief. Perfect. The fish had finally bitten the bait.

The next morning, before I could even leave the house, Mom blocked my way. “Give me your phone!” she snapped, demanding. “No! This is my privacy!” I immediately hugged my phone to my chest, putting up a dramatic struggle. The more I “resisted,” the more aggressive she became. My bedroom was instantly turned into a mess. Books were knocked to the floor, and my desk lamp was tipped over. Like a madwoman, she snatched the phone from my hand. I “frantically” tried to lock the screen, but “accidentally” let her see the Snapchat chat history between Julian and me. Mom opened it without a second thought. Those chat logs were carefully fabricated by me over two whole days. Every sentence was a sickeningly sweet promise of love. [Babe, I dreamed of you again last night.] [I want to buy you the whole world.] There were even screenshots of Julian sending me “money gifts”—each one over ten thousand dollars. Of course, I didn’t mention a single word about how he made me transfer the money right back to him under various excuses. Chloe leaned in to watch the drama, her eyes practically sparkling. “Wow, Elena, your boyfriend is so romantic and generous!” she said, raising her voice on purpose. “He’s so much better than that guy who chased me last month. That loser bought me a designer bag and complained about the price for weeks.” Mom’s finger stopped scrolling. She saw Julian’s incredibly wealthy background, which I had “carelessly” revealed in the chats. [Babe, my parents are flying to Europe next week for a business deal. I’ll be home alone. It’s so boring.] [My dad gave me another card today for pocket money. The PIN is your birthday.] The anger on Mom’s face vanished instantly. She pulled me out of the room and whispered a warning: “Keep this quiet for now. Your dad and I need to look into this boy.” She paused, then added as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “If he’s really that good, we can’t let your sister miss out on this.” I stood there, my eyes instantly welling up with tears. Even though I had expected this, hearing it out loud still felt like a stab to my heart. “Why?!” I screamed with all my might, my voice breaking into a sob. “Mom, ever since we were kids, you guys always took her side! Toys, new clothes, your love… and now you want to steal the only boyfriend I’ve ever had?!” The harder I cried, the more desperate I seemed, the more it proved that Julian was a priceless treasure. Mom was taken aback by my scream, but then disgust washed over her face. “Stop screaming! He’s just a man! Is he worth all this drama?” “Your sister is prettier than you, sweeter than you, and everyone loves her. What’s wrong with her getting a good man?” “If you really cared about your sister, you would step aside! Act like an older sister for once!” Her words were like a poisoned blade, stabbing right into the softest part of my heart. I covered my face, ran back to my room, and locked the door. Outside, Mom was still cursing. “What an ungrateful brat. We raised her for so many years, and she doesn’t care about this family at all.” “Exactly. If Chloe can marry into the Vance family, we’ll all be set for life. She’s so selfish, only thinking about herself.” That was Dad’s voice. Listening to those cold words, the tears on my face slowly dried up. I looked up at my red, swollen eyes in the mirror. Excellent, Elena. Your acting is getting better and better. That evening, I purposely left one of Julian’s jackets on the living room sofa. It smelled of his favorite woody cologne. Sure enough, when the house was dead silent in the middle of the night, Chloe crept out of her room, picked up the jacket, and took a deep, greedy breath. Then, she put it on, ran to the full-length mirror, and posed. Next, she took out her phone, opened her secret Instagram account—the one she used to bait guys—and posted a few selfies. The caption read: “I love this scent so much. It feels like a warm hug~ [blushing emoji]” Lying in bed, I saw her post and silently gave it a like. My dear sister, with every step you take toward the abyss, I will be right here to document it for you.

The Instagram post quickly caused a stir. The next day, as soon as I got to school, my wrist was violently grabbed. Julian dragged me into a deserted corner behind the science building. His face was dark enough to kill. “I don’t like other people touching things I gave you. Do you understand?” He pinned me against the wall, his eyes predatory. I immediately played the terrified victim, tears pooling in my eyes. “No, it’s not what you think!” I sobbed, explaining that the jacket had just been washed and left out, and my sister had taken it without asking. I said she was just young and loved to show off, begging him not to be angry. My submission and terror deeply satisfied Julian’s sick need for control. His expression softened slightly, and he ran a hand through my hair. “Keep an eye on your sister next time.” I nodded quickly. Taking the opportunity, I “carelessly” dropped a hint. “Chloe… she’s just spoiled by our parents. She’s loved stealing my things since we were kids.” “Yesterday she even asked me if you were really that nice to me. She said she’d never met a guy as handsome and classy as you.” I watched Julian’s expression closely as I spoke. As expected, a flash of smug satisfaction crossed his eyes. No man can resist the adoration of a beautiful girl, especially an arrogant psychopath like Julian. And Chloe was gorgeous, popular, and always surrounded by guys at school. Conquering her would satisfy his vanity far more than conquering a plain “Cinderella” like me. “Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Your sister… has good taste.” From that day on, Chloe began her move. She always managed to “coincidentally” cross paths with Julian. Sometimes she was buying coffee at the campus cafe, other times she was checking out books in the library. She would hold up my photo and ask passing students: “Have you guys seen my sister? Her boyfriend is looking for her.” Every time, she was dressed to perfection—innocent yet alluring. And I would always “coincidentally” show up right during these encounters. Then, I would play the jealous, angry girlfriend. “Chloe! What are you doing here again?!” I would yell, drawing a crowd. “Elena, I was just trying to help you find Julian,” she would blink innocently. “Why are you so petty? You get mad just because I say a word to him.” Our public arguments made this “love triangle” look incredibly real. On the school forum, threads about the three of us spread like wildfire. [Drama! Golden boy Julian Vance caught in a sister showdown!] [Honestly, Chloe is a much better match. Elena is so dramatic and always looks miserable.] [Agreed! Chloe is hot and fun. Who wouldn’t prefer her?] Public opinion completely sided with Chloe. And my parents’ attitude began to change too. They stopped yelling at me and switched to a more disgusting form of emotional manipulation. “Chloe is so sweet, trying to help you keep your relationship. And look at you, always throwing tantrums,” Mom said at dinner, deliberately avoiding putting food on my plate. “Julian’s family is so wealthy. You better cherish him and stop acting like a spoiled brat before you drive him away.” “Exactly. Don’t think you’re special just because you have a boyfriend,” Dad set his fork down, his voice stern. “He has great prospects. You should be more open-minded and let your sister hang out with you guys to see the world.” Their words became more and more shameless, constantly hinting that I wasn’t good enough for Julian and should step aside. On the outside, I wept as if my heart was breaking, but inside, I was laughing. Everything was going exactly according to my script. A week later, my greedy mother finally couldn’t sit still anymore. She suggested hosting a dinner party at our house over the weekend to “officially” meet Julian. She said, “You can’t keep hiding your boyfriend. Your family needs to check him out for you.” I knew very well that the star of this “evaluation” wouldn’t be me. It would be Chloe. Oh, I had been looking forward to this dinner for a very long time.

On the day of the dinner, Mom dragged me out of bed early and threw a white dress at me. It was a rare, “generous” birthday gift she had given me last month. But when I turned around, I saw Chloe walking out of her room in the exact same dress. Except hers was made of finer material, with a sparkling diamond chain wrapped around her waist. “Mom, if Elena and I wear the same thing, will Julian get us confused?” Chloe twirled playfully. Mom looked at her with pride, grinning from ear to ear. “Of course not! Our Chloe is so beautiful, no one can compare to her.” I stood there like a ghost in the background. Julian arrived in the afternoon, bringing many expensive gifts. He gave Dad a thousand-dollar bottle of wine, Mom the latest designer handbag, and Chloe a necklace that looked incredibly expensive. For me, he only brought a box of chocolates. He hadn’t even fully peeled off the discount price tag. “Elena doesn’t care about these luxury things. She just likes sweets,” Julian explained with a warm smile. How thoughtful. But he didn’t mention that the box of chocolates was bought last-minute from the convenience store downstairs. At the dining table, the atmosphere was so warm that it felt like I was the stranger. Mom had made a seafood soup—something I had been severely allergic to since childhood. “Here, Julian, have some more. I got this lobster imported. It’s great for your health,” she enthusiastically served him a large bowl. Dad opened the wine Julian brought and kept offering toasts, praising him to the skies. “Chloe, put some steak on Julian’s plate,” Mom smiled warmly. “Julian, try this ribeye. Chloe made it. She’s a fantastic cook,” Dad added, desperately trying to create a spark. Chloe blushed, shyly placing the meat into Julian’s bowl. “Julian, try it.” “Thank you, Chloe,” Julian smiled warmly, but his eyes drifted over to me. “But I’m still more used to Elena taking care of me.” Saying that, he put a piece of fish into my bowl, slowly removing the bones before placing it right by my mouth. “Right, babe?” his voice was gentle, but his eyes carried a dark warning. At that moment, both Mom and Chloe’s faces stiffened. A sick sense of pleasure rose in my chest. I obediently opened my mouth and ate the fish. “Julian is always the nicest to me,” I murmured. Chloe reacted instantly. Her eyes welled with tears, looking incredibly fragile. “Julian, do you think I didn’t do a good job? I’m sorry… I was just so envious of Elena, and I wanted to do something for you too.” Her weak, pitiful act immediately triggered Julian’s savior complex. He smiled and patted the back of her hand, his voice full of affection. “Of course not. You’re actually much more attentive than your sister.” That compliment was like a slap to my face. Mom immediately gave me a smug look. I lowered my head, clenching my fists. After dinner, Chloe brought over a fruit platter. Suddenly, she tripped and “accidentally” spilled a whole glass of orange juice all over Julian’s white shirt. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Julian, I didn’t mean to!” She frantically wiped it with a napkin, her hands brushing against his chest on purpose. “Let me take you to my room to clean it up. I have a hairdryer there,” she said urgently. I sat on the sofa, watching them go upstairs one after the other. I deliberately lingered in the living room for a few minutes, listening to Mom’s sarcastic remarks. “Look at how charming your sister is! You should learn a thing or two!” “If you don’t have the skills, don’t blame others for stealing your spotlight,” Dad chimed in. I stood up abruptly, rushing toward Chloe’s room in a fit of “rage.” I didn’t knock. I slammed the half-open door wide open. The scene inside made my breath hitch. Chloe was on her tiptoes, her lips almost brushing against Julian’s cheek. And Julian’s hands were resting on her waist, holding her in an intimate, suggestive embrace. Hearing the door slam, they quickly pulled apart, looking startled. “What are you doing?!” I screamed, my voice shaking violently. Chloe stepped back “in a panic,” her face flushed. “Elena, let me explain… it’s not what it looks like…” “Elena, what is wrong with you?” Julian frowned, his voice dripping with annoyance. Looking at their expressions—one playing innocent, the other looking disgusted—the anger I had bottled up for months completely “exploded.” I broke down into hysterical tears, slammed the door, and ran out. My heart-wrenching sobs and messy footsteps echoed down the hallway. I ran all the way to the street corner. Only after confirming no one was following me did I slowly stop. I took a deep breath, looked up at the city lights, and a cold smile crept onto my face. Dad, Mom, Chloe, Julian… Your little drama has finally begun.

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On my ninety-ninth night with Leo Vance, he was as wild as ever, holding me so tight it felt like he never wanted to let go. He once told me that physical attraction is far more stable than emotional love. And I had always believed we had an unspoken understanding. Until I overheard him talking to his friends. “Maya is just my executive assistant,” Leo said, his voice casually amused. “But I have to admit, she’s incredible in bed.” “Double the service for one paycheck. Pretty good deal, right?” Then, one of his friends mentioned a name: Chloe. The moment he heard that name, Leo’s voice softened instantly. “Chloe is different. I couldn’t bear to ruin her.” At that moment, the illusion I had built for myself shattered. My hand froze on the doorknob. Instead of entering, I pulled out my phone and called the overseas headhunter who had been trying to recruit me for months. “Are you still looking to hire me?” The voice on the other end responded almost instantly. “Perfect. My flight leaves tomorrow night. Come with me.” “I’ll send a car to pick you up tomorrow evening.” After hanging up, I looked through the glass door at Leo inside the VIP lounge. He was sitting in the center of the leather sofa, a tender look in his eyes that only appeared when he heard that name. The rowdy laughter of the men around him continued. “Our Mr. Vance sure has charm. Maya is the most famous PR strategist in the industry, yet she willingly stays by his side just playing assistant.” “She looks like such an untouchable ice queen. I bet she’s amazing in private, huh?” The men laughed and winked. Leo didn’t even try to stop them. In fact, a smug smirk played on his lips. I took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and walked in. After all, on paper, I was still his assistant. I had a job to finish. The moment I stepped inside, the suggestive tension in the air didn’t fade. The men’s teasing eyes locked onto me. “Oh, Maya’s here! Perfect. Mr. Vance can’t drink anymore. Maya is always his savior at these dinners, isn’t she?” “Exactly. Hey, Maya, do you have any friends like you? Introduce them to us.” “Someone who can handle the business, take the drinks, and… satisfy other needs.” They traded dirty looks, their faces full of disrespect and amusement. Leo jokingly punched the guy closest to him. “Alright, that’s enough. Can’t the expensive wine shut your mouths?” After saying that, Leo waved me over, gesturing for me to sit next to him. As soon as I sat down, Leo handed me a glass with a smile. “These guys are just playing around. They don’t mean any harm. Don’t take it personally.” I didn’t say a word. I tilted my head back and drank the alcohol in one gulp. Suddenly, the door was pushed open. A girl wearing a white woolen coat and a pink beanie stumbled in, her innocent eyes filled with panic. The second she walked in, Leo bolted upright and rushed to her. “Chloe? What are you doing here?” “This place is too chaotic. Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at home?” Chloe? So this was the Chloe they were talking about. Chloe looked up, her eyes watery and incredibly helpless. “I waited for so long and you didn’t show up. I was worried.” “Your stomach is bad. I didn’t want you to drink too much.” Leo seemed deeply touched by her words. His dark, cold eyes softened completely. The men in the lounge started whistling. “Oh, so this is the ‘Chloe’ our Mr. Vance always talks about? Hey, beautiful, want to join us for a drink?” Before the man could finish his sentence, Leo turned around and smashed his glass on the floor. “Shut your damn mouth. Chloe is not the kind of woman you joke about.”

Not the kind of woman? Just moments ago, his friends had said things to me that were ten times worse, and Leo had laughed it off. But now, Leo flew into a rage over a harmless joke because Chloe wasn’t “that kind of woman.” If their conversation earlier had torn my heart open, Leo’s reaction now was like digging a giant hole in my chest, letting the freezing wind howl through. My hands and feet went numb. I closed my eyes, forcing down the bitterness in my throat. A little over a year ago, Leo’s company was facing a massive financial crisis. As a top-tier crisis strategist from Wall Street, Leo hired me with a massive contract for six months. In just three months, I brought his group back from the dead. But our rapid rise pissed off the wrong people. A disgruntled rival hired professional hitmen to ambush us in an underground parking lot. During the chaos, I threw myself in front of Leo, taking a bullet that was meant to end his life. Fortunately, the bullet missed my heart by an inch. I survived. When I woke up, Leo was sitting by my hospital bed, his eyes bloodshot, his voice cracking with emotion. “You didn’t even hesitate to jump in front of me. Did you face stuff like this back in New York?” “Maya, it breaks my heart. Stay with me, okay?” Maybe it was the way he whispered my name, or maybe the tenderness in his eyes was too intoxicating. At that moment, I fell for him. Like an idiot, I nodded. From that day on, everything changed. On the surface, I was still his executive assistant. But he spent almost every night in my bed. We were wild, passionate, doing everything real couples do. I thought it was love. When I opened my eyes, Leo had already left with Chloe. The people left in the room looked at me with either pity or ridicule. I ignored them, stood up, and walked out. I was leaving tomorrow. Once I got back to the apartment, I started packing my few belongings. This apartment was provided by Leo, and most of the things in it were bought by him. I didn’t have much of my own to take. As I was packing, the front door opened. I didn’t turn around. A moment later, a warm chest pressed against my back. A pair of rough hands slid under the hem of my shirt. Leo’s voice was raspy from the alcohol. “Why are you packing? Going somewhere? Is Hazel dragging you out on another trip?” Hazel was my only friend in the country. We occasionally went on weekend getaways. I stopped his hand from moving higher and turned around to look him straight in the eyes. Instead of answering, I asked the one question on my mind. “Leo, what are we?” Leo froze. His drunk eyes cleared up a bit. “Maya, is this about Chloe tonight? Are you upset?” I didn’t say a word. I let the silence speak for me. Leo let out a soft sigh and sat down on the sofa. When he looked up again, there was a hint of impatience in his eyes. “Maya, I thought we had an unspoken understanding about this.” “Chloe won’t affect us. Everything stays the same. Be a good girl, okay?” At that moment, I realized I had never truly known this man. I forced back the tears prickling my eyes. “I see.” Hearing my response, Leo visibly relaxed. He stood up, wanting to hug me. But sensing my coldness, he stepped back. “Whatever. Get some rest and clear your head. I’m leaving.” “I have a dinner with Mr. Sterling tomorrow afternoon. I’ll send a driver to pick you up. Just relax during the day.” After Leo left, all my strength drained away. My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor, the tears finally pouring down my face. A while later, my phone buzzed. It was a Snap from Hazel. “What is wrong with Leo? Why did he post this on his Ins story?” I opened the screenshot Hazel sent. It was a photo Leo had just posted. It was a screenshot of a chat. The caption read: “Turns out, being cared for after drinking feels this good.” My tears fell onto the screen. With trembling fingers, I zoomed in on the chat.

Most of the message was blurred out, except for one line from the sender. “Your stomach is bad. I get so worried when you drink. If you do it again, I’m going to ignore you!” Looking at those childish words, Chloe’s innocent face flashed in my mind. I clicked on Leo’s profile. His Ins page was blank for me. Just a gray line. He had blocked me from seeing it. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Hazel’s messages kept spamming my phone. “Who is that in the screenshot? That’s not your profile picture!” “You’ve been with him for a year. What the hell is he doing?” “Has Leo lost his mind? Some basic, whiny text gets him so excited he has to show the whole world? Did he forget everything you’ve done for him?” “You’re his girlfriend!” Looking at the last message, I stared blankly for a second before typing back. “I’m just his assistant. We both got it wrong.” After that, Hazel didn’t send another text. The next morning, Hazel sent a driver to my place, insisting on taking me out for lunch. I checked the time. Leo’s dinner with Mr. Sterling was in the afternoon, and the driver wasn’t picking me up until evening. I had time. Hazel was my only friend. Since I was leaving, I needed to say a proper goodbye. After a night of crying, I had mostly made peace with my decision. But Hazel spent the entire drive to the restaurant cursing Leo out. Looking at her flushed, angry face, my heart felt a little warmer. We hung out at the mall after lunch until the evening, when Leo’s driver picked me up and took me to the private dining club. The moment I entered the VIP room, Leo smiled and waved at me. “Maya, you’re here. Come, sit.” From the second I walked in, Mr. Sterling’s slimy, greasy eyes crawled over my body like a snake. I pretended not to notice and sat down next to Leo. As soon as I sat down, Mr. Sterling spoke up. “Is this… Mr. Vance’s date?” “Mr. Vance, you really are young and successful. Every woman around you is more stunning than the last.” Mr. Sterling stood up, walked behind me, and casually rested his hand on my shoulder. Leo smiled, raising his glass to Mr. Sterling. “You flatter me, Mr. Sterling. When doing business, the women we bring must match our status.” “Since you like her, and she doesn’t have any pressing work tonight… once we sign the contract, she can stay and thoroughly discuss the resort development with you.” Hearing this, Mr. Sterling’s eyes lit up. The hand on my shoulder squeezed tighter. I had been to many of these dinners with Leo. But now I realized that in his eyes, I was just a highly capable assistant, a tool to charm clients, or maybe even a chip to be traded in business. But never his partner. Just then, a commotion broke out in the hallway outside. “Are you blind? Can’t you see me walking here?” Then came a girl’s frantic apology, her voice trembling and full of tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking…” Beside me, Leo’s face fell instantly. He bolted upright and rushed out of the room. The girl outside was Chloe. Her eyes were red, filled with tears that looked ready to spill over. The bloated, drunk businessman who had run into her realized she was a pretty, innocent young girl. He stepped closer, reeking of alcohol. “Oh, what a cute little thing.” “Don’t cry. I’m a reasonable guy. But you bumped into me, and it hurt. A simple apology won’t cut it. My private room is right next door…”

Before the man could finish, Leo’s fist smashed into his face. He pulled the sobbing Chloe behind his back. The drunk man was caught off guard and took the blow head-on. Once he steadied himself, furious, he grabbed a glass bottle from a nearby cart and hurled it straight at Leo. Out of professional instinct, I rushed forward, throwing myself in front of Leo and Chloe. Smash! The bottle shattered heavily against my forearm, which I had raised to shield them. The glass exploded. Red wine and blood splattered all over my clothes, and blood began to drip rapidly onto the floor. People from the neighboring rooms came out to see the commotion. When they recognized Leo, their faces turned pale. “Mr. Vance… Mr. Vance… What are you doing here?” The drunk man was still shouting. “Who the hell do you think you are, hitting me! Do you know who I am? I’m with Miller Corp…” Before he could finish, his associate grabbed him, bowing frantically to Leo. “Mr. Vance, Mr. Vance, he’s drunk. Please don’t mind him. Please show mercy…” I looked at Leo. He was staring at the terrified Chloe with pure heartbreak. He didn’t look at me for a single second. Hearing the associate’s apology, Leo’s eyes turned icy. “Miller Corp? Got it.” Chloe clutched Leo’s sleeve, looking pitiful. “Leo, I’m scared. Let’s go.” Without hesitation, Leo scooped Chloe up in his arms and carried her toward the private lounge. Before leaving, he seemed to suddenly remember I existed. “Clean yourself up in the restroom. Once you’re done, go back and take care of Mr. Sterling.” “Don’t keep him waiting. This contract is highly important.” I looked down at my dripping, bloody arm. A cold, bitter feeling washed over me. When Mr. Sterling put his slimy hands on me, Leo looked away and even offered me up as a bargaining chip. But when Chloe was merely teased, the always-rational Leo lost his mind and started a fistfight. The difference between love and convenience was loud and clear. When I walked out of the restroom and passed the private lounge, the door was slightly ajar. A suggestive, breathless sound drifted out. The woman was panting, her voice sweet and whiny. “You say you love me, but why won’t you take me to these dinners? Am I too embarrassing to be seen with?” The man’s voice was deep, thick with desire. “The men at these dinners are beasts. You’re too pure. I couldn’t bear to let you near a place like this.” “I want to protect you from the world. I’d never let you get hurt.” The girl giggled, teasing him. “Don’t be so eager. Your assistant is still cleaning up in the restroom. She might be right next door.” The man didn’t slow down, clearly pleased by her reaction. “I love you so much. You always surprise me.” “Don’t worry. The walls in these VIP rooms are soundproof. I closed the door. She won’t hear a thing.” As Leo spoke, Chloe, who was beneath him, shifted her gaze. Her eyes met mine through the crack in the door. At that moment, everything clicked. Leo thought he had closed the door, but it was wide open. Her showing up here, and this entire performance, was all Chloe’s doing. I smiled, withdrew my gaze, and quietly pushed the door shut for them. As the lock clicked, my phone rang. It was my contact. “Maya, change of plans. The private jet has landed.” “We need to leave immediately. I’m coming to pick you up now.” I sent him my location and quickly walked out of the club, never returning to Mr. Sterling’s room. If the plans had changed, it was fate. Leo, goodbye forever.

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On the day I got laid off, I called my boyfriend, Liam. He never picked up. Soaked from the rain, I pushed open the front door of our apartment, shivering as I clutched the cardboard box of my belongings. Inside, the place was packed. Loud music blasted, and to my shock, my parents, my relatives, and all of our friends were there. In the center of the crowd stood Liam and my best friend, Chloe, dressed in a tuxedo and a white bridal gown, throwing a massive wedding party. The box slipped from my hands, crashing to the floor. Liam walked over to me, his expression chillingly calm. “What are you doing here?” I stared at him, my voice shaking. “What is this?” His eyes flickered with a brief flash of guilt, but he just sighed. “Chloe and I got legally married last year. Today is just the reception.” Without thinking, I slapped him hard across the face. “Get out. All of you, get the hell out. This is my apartment.” I screamed. The next moment, our mutual friends shoved me back. “How could you hit him like that?” “Seriously. We only kept it from you because we didn’t want you to be devastated. Liam would have broken up with you ages ago anyway.” Amidst the chaos, my parents stepped forward, looking at me with deep disappointment. “Elena, this apartment isn’t yours,” my dad said. “Your mother and I bought it, and we’ve already gifted it to Chloe as a wedding present.” “Today is their big day,” my mom added. “Don’t make a scene. Just go to your room.” I stood by the doorway, laughing through my tears. It was so absurd. Five years of dating. Three years of living together. My boyfriend had become my best friend’s husband. My own parents secretly bought them our home as a wedding gift. And all of my friends had been happily keeping the secret. Right now, I was nothing but a joke.

When they shoved me into the bedroom, my knee slammed hard against the bed frame. Before I could even stand up, the door slammed shut in my face. I froze. The noise outside dimmed for a second, then the party started up again, even louder than before. I was locked in that room from noon until total darkness fell. No one came to open the door. No one even checked on me. I screamed until my throat was completely raw. In the end, I could only slide down against the door, listening to the party noises slowly fade away. But my mind only grew sharper and clearer. When the house finally went completely quiet, the door opened. I pulled myself up using the bedpost. My legs were completely numb. My parents walked in first, followed by Liam and Chloe. My mom’s eyes were red, looking as if she were the one suffering. “Elena, honey… look. You and Liam did those fertility tests before, right?” “We saw the portal report. The doctor said… it might be very hard for you to ever have children.” My entire body went rigid. We had done those tests right before Liam and I were planning to get married. But I never got my hands on the results. Liam said he would handle the portal access, and I hadn’t thought much of it. It turned out I didn’t need to think. Everyone had already made the decisions for me. I looked at Liam. “You knew all along?” He kept his head down, refusing to meet my eyes. My dad spoke up. “Liam is an only child. This kind of issue would have ruined your marriage eventually. If you two broke up normally, could you even handle the heartbreak?” My mom immediately chimed in. “So, your dad and I talked it over. We figured it was best to let Chloe and Liam get married first and have a baby. Once that’s done, you can come back. We can all live together and get through this.” My brain exploded. My lips trembled, and it took me forever to force out a single sentence. “Have you all lost your minds?” Chloe took a step forward. Her eyes were watery, her voice soft and fragile. “Elena, everyone is just really worried about you. I’ve been alone for so many years, and I’ve always seen you guys as my family. If I can help you keep Liam, I’m willing to do it.” She finished speaking and gently placed her hand on her flat stomach. “Besides, I’m already pregnant.” I stared at her stomach, a wave of intense nausea hitting my throat. I slowly turned to Liam. “And you agreed to this?” He stayed dead silent. My vision went dark. My chest felt so tight I couldn’t breathe. The next second, I collapsed onto the floor. When I woke up, the room was pitch black. I fumbled around for my phone. The moment the screen lit up, notifications flooded in. Missed calls, messages from former coworkers, and over a hundred unread alerts in our group chat on Snapchat. I tapped into it. At first, some people were asking why Liam had suddenly married Chloe. But then, the tone shifted. Someone wrote, “Oh my god, my favorite ship actually became canon!” “Right? Chloe is so sweet and gentle. Elena has such a bad temper and is always so dramatic. No guy could stand her.” I scrolled down and saw another message. “Remember when Liam worked overtime until midnight, and she still forced him to drive across town to get her takeout? So annoying. Total spoiled princess.” “Exactly. She deserved to get dumped.” I stared at those words, my hands turning ice-cold. On that night, Liam had been the one who insisted on buying me food, telling me to just name what I wanted. I had even told him to forget it because it was too late. He had laughed and told me it was fine. But in everyone else’s mouths, it became proof of my selfishness. With my heart squeezing painfully, I instinctively typed a message into the Snapchat group. “You all knew about this?” The chat went dead silent for a second. The next second, a notification popped up: You have been removed from the group. They didn’t even bother to give me an explanation. I sat on the edge of the bed and let out a soft, hollow laugh. It wasn’t just my parents. It wasn’t just Liam. My friends, my coworkers. Everyone had been lying to me. I stood up and started packing. I didn’t want to stay in this place for another single minute.

When I dragged my suitcase out, the living room was still decorated with white drapes and fresh flowers. Unfinished wedding favor boxes were scattered on the table, and Chloe’s jacket was tossed casually over the sofa. It was as if they couldn’t wait to make this place their new home. As I was packing, I suddenly noticed the birdcage by the window was empty. I froze. “Where is my pet bird?” My mom was clearing the table outside. She didn’t even look up. “Chloe said keeping him locked up was too cruel, so she let him go.” The clothes in my hands dropped right back into the suitcase. “She let him go?” Chloe, sitting on the sofa, said softly, “I was just doing what was best for him. It’s so sad to keep him in a cage. Isn’t freedom better?” I spun around to face her, my voice shaking violently. “He is a domesticated parrot. He can’t survive in the wild!” She flinched as if I had terrified her, her hands immediately guarding her stomach. “How was I supposed to know? I was just trying to be nice.” “Nice?” I glared at her. “I raised that bird for years.” I turned to my parents. “That was the birthday present you gave me. And you just let her release him?” My dad frowned, completely dismissing it. “It’s just a bird. It’s gone. If you want another one, we’ll buy you a new one later.” Buy me a new one. I stood there, suddenly finding myself completely speechless. I went back to packing in silence. Seeing that I was actually leaving, my mom finally got anxious. “Stop acting out, Elena! You just lost your job. Where are you going to go by yourself? We did all of this for your own future!” I picked up my suitcase and looked at her. “If this is your idea of doing what’s best for me, then you should have never given birth to me in the first place.” I turned and walked toward the door. My dad’s booming voice echoed from behind. “Elena Vance, if you walk out that door today, don’t you dare ever come back!” I didn’t stop. Just as I reached the door, Liam finally spoke. “It’s still pouring outside. Don’t do anything reckless.” I looked back at him. “Liam, don’t ever speak to me again.” His face turned incredibly pale. I carried my box down the stairs, the cardboard cutting painfully into my arms. I ended up checking into a cheap, run-down motel. The room was tiny. The window wouldn’t close properly, rattling loudly every time the night wind blew. I barely slept that night. I had lost my job, my home, and my boyfriend. My best friend was now his wife, my parents were on their side, and even my friends were laughing at me behind my back. But the moment the sun rose, I forced myself up to start sending out resumes. I had to survive. I used to be a top performer at my old company. I thought that no matter how unlucky I was, I could at least find a decent job. But reality was much harsher than I expected. At the first company, the interview went amazingly well, but they suddenly called back to say the position had been filled. At the second company, I went in person, but after the interviewer took a quick phone call, their attitude turned cold. The third company was even more direct. They didn’t even let me past the lobby. After getting rejected repeatedly, I finally realized something was wrong. After getting rejected repeatedly, I finally realized something was wrong. It wasn’t until I was standing outside a restroom at an office building that I overheard two girls whispering inside. “Yeah, that’s her. Vivian said she got fired from her last job for being a homewrecker.” “I heard she tried to steal someone’s husband. Who would dare hire a person like that?” I stood frozen, my blood running cold. My cousin Vivian worked at my old company. And she had been at the wedding reception that day. I immediately took an Uber straight to my old office. The moment I walked in, I noticed everyone stealing glances at me. Some quickly pretended to be busy, while others whispered near the breakroom. I walked straight up to Vivian’s desk. “Are you the one spreading those rumors about me?” Vivian looked up, acting completely innocent. “What rumors?” “That I’m a homewrecker. That I tried to steal someone’s husband. That I got fired because of it.” She leaned back in her chair and scoffed. “I didn’t lie. I just told people exactly what I saw at the party.” I laughed out of sheer anger. “I was the one who was betrayed!” But the moment I said that, the whispers around us only grew louder. Clearly, nobody believed me. Right then, Chloe walked in. She was there to hand in some paperwork, and she stumbled right into the scene. I stared at her, as if grabbing onto my last piece of evidence. “Tell them. Tell them who actually stole from whom!” “Was it you and Liam who went behind my back?” Everyone’s eyes locked onto Chloe. Her face drained of color. She instinctively shielded her stomach, her voice barely a whisper. “Elena, please don’t do this… I’m pregnant.” With that single sentence, she sealed my fate. The looks of disgust from the bystanders solidified. Tears streamed down Chloe’s face as she took a half-step back. “Things are already like this. The baby needs a father. If you want to blame someone, blame me. Just stop making a scene, okay?” I looked at her, my chest so tight I could barely draw breath. In the end, under the judgmental stares of dozens of people, I was escorted out of the building by security.

Rent was due, and I needed to eat. No matter how angry I was, I had to survive first. Eventually, I took a job as a waitress at a local restaurant. One night, the shift manager asked me to bring hot tea to one of the private dining booths. The moment I pushed the door open, I froze. My parents, Liam, Chloe, and a few of our relatives were all sitting inside. They were laughing and talking, looking like a perfect, happy family. And there I was, wearing a cheap apron, holding a teapot. The booth fell into dead silence. My mom’s face twisted instantly. Liam looked up and froze when he saw me. Only Chloe, after a brief shock, gently rested her hand on her stomach. I gripped the tray tightly, my knuckles turning white, but I forced myself to say nothing. I walked in with my head down, pouring tea cup by cup. My mom hissed in a low voice, “How could you work in a place like this?” A relative whispered nearby, “She has a college degree. How did she end up like this?” “Didn’t she use to have a nice office job?” I stood by the table. The teapot was boiling hot, but their words burned much worse. As I turned to leave, Chloe spoke up in her sweet, gentle voice. “Elena, have you been under too much stress lately? Why don’t you sit down and eat with us?” “Don’t be mad at us anymore.” I finally looked up at her. She sat there, her baby bump slightly showing, pretending to care so much about me. I felt a chill run down my spine. Some people will rob you of everything, and then turn around and look at you with pity. As if your miserable state is entirely your own fault. “I’m working,” I said coldly. My mom immediately cut in. “How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum? You’d rather serve tables than come home!” I looked at her. “I’m working to feed myself. And you call that a tantrum?” My dad’s face darkened. “Look at yourself. You look pathetic. Stop this nonsense and come home. Stop embarrassing us out here.” I suddenly let out a laugh. “I’m the one embarrassing you?” “When you gave my boyfriend to Chloe, did you think about how embarrassing that was?” The room fell dead silent. My mom looked furious. “Do you have to be so hostile?” “Hostile?” I asked. “I’m standing here pouring your tea. How much politer do you want me to be?” Liam hadn’t said a word since I walked in. But now, he finally spoke, his voice low. “Elena.” I glared at him. “Don’t call my name.” His lips parted, but he closed them, saying nothing. Chloe slowly stood up, still looking weak and delicate. “Elena, no one wanted to humiliate you. We’re truly worried about you being out here on your own. Since we ran into each other today, why don’t we sit down and talk things through?” I stared at her. “Talk what through? Talk about how you got everything you wanted?” Her eyes immediately filled with tears, and she cupped her stomach. “Please don’t be like this.” “Then how should I be?” I took a step toward her. “Aren’t you the perfect actress? Come on, tell everyone again how you married Liam ‘for my own good’!” The relatives lowered their heads. No one dared to speak. Panicked, my mom reached out and grabbed my arm. “Enough! Haven’t you made enough of a scene?” I shoved her hand off. “I’m the one making a scene?” “Since the day of that wedding, did any of you ever care about my dignity?” I turned to walk out. But the moment I spun around, a sharp gasp echoed behind me. Chloe clutched her stomach, her knees buckling as she collapsed backward. She knocked over the cups on the table, spilling tea everywhere. The next second, a splash of red began to seep through her light-colored dress. The booth erupted into chaos. “Chloe!” My mom screamed and rushed over. My dad panicked. Liam bolted forward, immediately scooping Chloe into his arms. Chloe huddled in his chest, her face pale as paper, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t blame her… I really don’t blame her…” The moment she said that, everyone’s eyes locked onto me with pure rage. Because a second ago, I was the one standing closest to her. I stood there, my body freezing. “I didn’t even touch her.” But nobody listened. My mom rushed over and slapped me hard across the face. “Are you trying to kill her and the baby to be satisfied?!” The slap knocked my head to the side. My ears buzzed. The relatives started shouting at me. “How could she do that to a pregnant woman?” “What if something happens to the baby?” “She’s completely heartless!”

The ambulance arrived quickly. Chloe was rushed to the hospital. After the examination, the doctor said the baby was fine. It was just a scare, but she needed absolute rest. In the hospital room, Chloe lay on the bed, looking pale and exhausted. But the moment she spoke, she was back to playing the saint. “I don’t blame Elena. Really.” “She’s been through too much lately. She’s emotionally unstable. I understand.” I snapped my head up to glare at her. But she didn’t look at me. She just kept talking to my parents. “Maybe you should get her some professional help. I’m really scared that if she stays like this, she’ll end up hurting herself… or someone else.” My mom nodded immediately. “You’re right. She hasn’t been acting normal lately.” My dad’s face was grim, but he didn’t object. I took a step back, my throat tightening. “I’m not sick.” Liam stood by the bed. He looked troubled, as if he knew something wasn’t right. But in the end, he didn’t say a single word to defend me. My dad quickly made a phone call. That very night, I was forcefully taken to a private psychiatric facility. All the way there, I screamed and tried to explain. I was pinned down in the back of the car, tears and fury blinding me. “I’m not crazy!” “What right do you have to lock me up!” “Liam, say something!” I stared at him desperately. But he sat there in silence for a long time, only whispering, “Just try to calm down, Elena.” Calm down. Hearing those words felt like a knife carving out my heart. Before the car doors slammed shut, I could still hear Chloe’s weak, pathetic whimpering from the hospital room. Once we arrived at the facility, the nightmare truly began. Doctors and nurses swarmed me, pinning me down to inject me with a sedative. The moment the needle pierced my skin, my entire body shivered from the pain. I looked up at them, suddenly losing the strength to fight. As the drugs kicked in, my vision blurred. I faintly heard my mom whispering nearby, “Once she gets better, she’ll realize we did this for her own good.” My dad grunted in agreement. I couldn’t hear anything after that. The last thing I saw before closing my eyes was Liam’s blurry shadow standing under the hallway light. Five years of love. Three years of living together. I had truly wanted to marry him. I had dreamed of our wedding, our children, and a long life together. But now, I regretted ever meeting him. After being locked in that private facility, I spent the first day trying to explain myself. And the second day. By the third day, I realized it was completely useless. The doctor asked why I was resisting treatment, and I said I wasn’t sick. The nurse forced pills into my hand, and I told her my family had set me up. They just nodded and wrote in their notebooks: “Patient is highly unstable. Continuous denial of illness.” When I refused to take the meds, the nurses held me down and forced them down my throat. When I tried to run, the orderlies dragged me back. But the absolute worst part was the electroconvulsive therapy. The first time they wheeled me into that room, I didn’t know what it was. But the moment I saw the machines, I started shaking. I backed away, crying and begging them to stop. Two orderlies pinned me down while the nurses strapped my wrists. I fought with everything I had, screaming at the top of my lungs. Suddenly, the door opened, and Liam walked in. Like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline, I screamed to him through my tears. “Liam! I’m not crazy! Please, take me away from here!” The next second, Liam reached out and held my shoulders down. “Elena, stop fighting it. It’s for your own good.” In that instant, my crying stopped. When the needles went in and the electricity surged through my body, my entire frame went rigid. I screamed until my vocal cords practically shredded. When it was over, I threw up so hard I couldn’t even stand. But they said I was still “unstable.” On the consent form for the treatment, Liam had signed his name. After that, I became quieter and quieter. The doses of medication kept increasing, and my brain felt like it was trapped in thick fog. Sometimes, daytime would pass, and I couldn’t even tell if it was night. When someone asked how old I was, I had to think for a long time without finding an answer. When they asked for my name, it took me minutes to remember. One day, a nurse slipped a piece of candy into my hand. “You were very good today. Here’s a treat.” I stared at the candy in my palm, sitting motionless for hours. I began to lose the ability to recognize people. When my mom came to visit, she stood by my bed crying, but I just found her noise incredibly irritating. My dad rarely came. He would stand at the door for a long time, and I had no idea who he was. But when Liam came, I was terrified. Even though my brain couldn’t place his name, the moment I saw him, my arms would begin to throb in phantom pain, and my body would instinctively shrink back into the corner of the bed. Once, a nurse took me out to get some fresh air. Liam was standing near the bench, calling my name in a cracked, hoarse voice. I clutched my stuffed animal tightly and whispered to the nurse, “Who is that man?” In that split second, Liam looked as if all the life had been sucked out of him. But I didn’t know him anymore. Then, the original testing hospital called. They said they had made a mistake with the fertility screening report. The files had been swapped with another patient who shared the same name. My actual fertility results had been completely normal. When Liam received the call, he was standing in the hospital corridor. His phone slipped from his hand, crashing to the floor as his face drained of all color.

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