1 My grandfather’s last wish was to see me marry Bruce. We’d been together eight years, so I never doubted it was just a matter of time. But he hesitated, asking to wait another month. The next day, his coworker Serena posted their marriage certificate online, writing, “Even one month with you completely is enough.” When I went to confront him, I overheard him telling a friend, “Just because her grandfather saved me, I promised to look after her forever. One sentence bound my whole life. But to have one month with the one I truly love… I’d have no regrets.” His friend warned, “Won’t Rosy find out and leave you?” Bruce replied, “She trusts me completely. She won’t suspect a thing.” Later, when he called to meet at the courthouse, he only received the wedding gift I’d sent him. The card read: “Bruce, I wish you and Serena a lifetime of happiness.” … “What can she even do besides guilt-trip me? Using her grandfather to make me spend time with her every single day… I’m honestly sick of it.” Outside the door, Bruce’s words were like nails, pinning me to the spot. Bruce and I grew up together. We were friends for eighteen years before he asked me out in college, and we’d been together for the eight years since. I couldn’t believe it was all a lie. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the doorknob, the world spinning around me. The vibration of my phone finally broke through the static in my head. “Miss Collins? Your grandfather is in critical condition. Please come to the hospital immediately.” By the time I rushed to the hospital, they were already wheeling him out of the emergency room. Seeing his strong, familiar face, my heart settled, but the doctor’s next words shattered my world. “He doesn’t have much time. You should say your goodbyes.” My legs felt like cotton as I pushed open the door to his room. He was smiling at me. “Rosy, you’re here. Where’s Bruce? Didn’t he come with you?” He looked so much better, but I knew it was just a final surge of energy before the end. “Grandpa, he’s busy with work. I’ll call him right now.” I dialed his number over and over, more than a dozen times, and with each unanswered call, the light in my grandfather’s eyes dimmed a little more. Finally, he picked up. Before I could speak, Bruce’s voice, thick with irritation, cut through the line. “Rosy, didn’t I tell you I was busy? Why do you keep calling?” My voice trembled, a choked sob caught in my throat. “Bruce, Grandpa’s dying. Can you please…” He didn’t let me finish. “Rosy, are you done with your little drama? How dare you lie about something like this? I’m swamped today. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Just before the line went dead, I heard Serena’s voice in the background, cooing his name. Honey. My grandfather saw the look on my face. Just like when I was a child, he reached out and patted my head with his rough, calloused hand. “Rosy, my greatest wish in this life is to see you happy. No matter what happens, Grandpa will always be with you.” I sat by his side, just as I had when I was a little girl, until the heart monitor let out a long, piercing shriek. No sound would come from my throat. My vision blurred, tears flooding my eyes like a broken dam. “Miss Collins, my condolences.” I sat numbly outside the hospital morgue, wanting to call Bruce one last time, to let him see Grandpa off. But when I tried, I discovered he had blocked my number. I tried every other way I could think of to reach him, but it was no use. At that same moment, Serena posted an update. A photo of her strolling on a beach, Bruce holding her hand, his smile soft and gentle. The caption: He drops everything to take me to the beach when I’m feeling down. I opened my phone and bought a plane ticket for three days from now. If you two are so deeply in love, there’s no reason for me to be a third wheel. Bruce, this is goodbye. 2 “You can pick it up tomorrow, Miss Collins.” I handed over my grandfather’s ashes to the specialist at the memorial company. I was having them compressed into a diamond, something I could wear and keep with me always. When I got home, a sudden yapping from inside startled me. “Oh, sorry about that. My puppy’s a little shy around strangers.” Serena emerged from the guest room, wrapped in my silk robe. Bruce must have seen the look on my face, because he rushed over and took my hand. “We worked so late last night, I just let her crash in the guest room.” I thought of her social media post and let out a bitter laugh. “Right. You two must have been very busy.” My jab hit its mark. Bruce’s voice rose. “Rosy, what’s that supposed to mean?” I yanked my hand away and headed for the stairs. Just before I closed my bedroom door, I heard him comforting Serena in a low voice. “She’s been emotional lately. Just ignore her.” The room was filled with my grandfather’s things. I took a deep breath, and the tears I’d been holding back began to fall. As I was packing his belongings, the door opened. Serena stood there, a mocking smile on her face. “Rosy, Bruce doesn’t love you anymore.” “Then have him tell me that himself. I won’t cling to him.” The smug look on her face faltered. “Just you wait!” I didn’t want to waste another second on her. As I opened my mouth to tell her to get out, a foul smell hit me. Her little dog had jumped onto the bed and was pissing on my grandfather’s memorial portrait. I snatched the dog off the bed and frantically tried to wipe the photo clean with a tissue. “Ahh! My baby!” Serena shrieked, scooping the dog into her arms. “Rosy, how dare you hurt my baby!” Her face twisted in fury. She kicked over the bag of my grandfather’s clothes I’d packed and stomped on them with her heel. Rage, white-hot and blinding, consumed me. My hand flew, the sharp crack of a slap echoing in the room. I grabbed her by the collar, my face inches from hers. “Serena, you touch my grandfather’s things again, and I swear you’ll regret it.” Suddenly, an arm seized mine. I was thrown to the floor, my head cracking against the corner of the nightstand with a sickening thud. “Rosy, what the hell is wrong with you?” Bruce stood over me, protectively shielding Serena. She turned her face to show him the red mark, her expression a mask of wounded innocence. “I just wanted to help, but…” she whimpered. “If Rosy doesn’t like me, I shouldn’t be here, getting in her way.” Bruce’s face was dark with anger. “Rosy, what is your problem? Serena was just trying to be nice.” I held up the urine-soaked portrait. “You tell me. Is letting her dog piss on my grandfather’s picture being nice? Or is stomping all over his clothes being nice?” He flinched, his eyes darting away. “It’s just a photo. I’ll have her print you a new one. That’s no reason to hit her.” I stared at the man before me, my heart stuttering to a stop. Even if he didn’t love me, Grandpa had treated him like his own grandson for years, had even saved his life. And now he was letting this woman desecrate his memory. 3 “Get out.” Tears streamed down my face. Serena started to say something, but Bruce pulled her away. I finished packing my grandfather’s things. When Bruce saw me dragging a suitcase to the door, he blocked my path. “You’re running away from home over something this small?” he scoffed. “It’s just a picture. I’ll go with you to print another one later.” I shoved his hand off my arm. “These are my grandfather’s clothes. I’m going to see him off.” “I’ll print the photo myself. You’re busy.” My coldness seemed to unnerve him. A flicker of anxiety crossed his face. “How is Grandpa doing? Wait, I’ll go with you to see him.” Just then, a cry of pain came from the kitchen. “Bruce! I cut my hand! It hurts!” He pushed past me and rushed to Serena’s side, tenderly wrapping her finger in a paper towel. “Serena’s bleeding. I have to take her to the hospital. You wait here for me, and we’ll go see Grandpa together when I get back.” I met his gaze and gave a slight nod. He seemed relieved as he hurried Serena out the door. I knew he wouldn’t be back. As was tradition, I took a car back to our hometown and burned my grandfather’s belongings by the river. As the last embers died out, my phone rang. It was Bruce. “Rosy, a last-minute meeting came up at work. Tell Grandpa I said hi, and I’ll go with you to see him tomorrow.” After hanging up, I saw him again on my social media feed. Serena’s post: I get a tiny cut on my finger, and he insists on taking care of me 24/7. The next morning, Bruce called. Perhaps because I hadn’t bothered him at all yesterday, his voice held a trace of nervousness. “Rosy, let’s go see Grandpa together today.” I was at the memorial company, accepting the diamond bracelet they handed me. The grandfather who had shielded me from every storm was now just this tiny, perfect stone. “Okay,” I said. “There’s something I need to tell you, too.” I felt he deserved to know that Grandpa was gone. When I got home, Serena saw the bracelet on my wrist and immediately flaunted a new watch on hers. It was an expensive, jewel-encrusted piece. A triumphant smirk played on her lips. “My hand was hurting so much yesterday, Bruce bought this to cheer me up.” I ignored her. “Where’s Bruce?” My lack of reaction clearly surprised her. Her eyes turned venomous. In a flash, she lunged forward, grabbed my bracelet, and ripped it from my wrist, flinging it toward the swimming pool outside. The force of it left a raw, red line on my skin, and beads of blood started to well up. But I didn’t care. I sprinted to the edge of the pool and dove in without a second thought. In that same instant, Serena’s expensive watch clattered into the water beside me, followed by the sound of her theatrical sobbing. I broke the surface to see her kneeling on the ground, and Bruce pointing at me, his face contorted with rage. “Rosy, when did you become so petty!” he yelled. “Serena earned a bonus, so I bought her a watch as a reward! And you fake falling into the pool just to frame her?” “Get that watch out of the water right now,” he snarled. “Or you can stay in there and freeze.” 4 I tried to pull myself out of the pool, but Bruce shoved me back in. He stood on the edge, his eyes like ice, as I shivered uncontrollably in the cold water. “She threw the watch in herself,” I said through chattering teeth. “Check the security cameras if you don’t believe me.” Bruce laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Rosy, I saw you jump in with my own two eyes. That’s a fact.” I held up the diamond bracelet, my voice breaking with every word. “Grandpa is dead. This bracelet is made from his ashes. She threw it in the water. Of course I jumped in after it.” Serena clutched his arm, her face a mask of sorrow. “But Bruce, didn’t your assistant, Mr. Lin, say her grandfather was fine at the hospital?” Bruce’s expression grew even darker. “Rosy! That’s your own grandfather! How could you curse him like that just to win an argument?” “Get the watch. And then you will apologize to Serena.” I felt frozen to the bone. I dredged the watch from the bottom of the pool and dragged my exhausted body onto the concrete. “Apologize.” Bruce gave me no time to breathe, yanking me to my feet and shoving me in front of Serena. She clung to his arm. “Bruce, honey, her grandfather is dying, after all. I don’t want to make things harder for her. As an apology, how about she lets me hold onto that diamond bracelet for a few days? Just so she doesn’t lose it again.” I clutched the bracelet so tightly the broken links cut into my palm. “I told you! This is made from my grandfather’s ashes! I am not giving it to her!” “I came back today to tell you that Grandpa is already gone! Call the hospital if you don’t believe me!” My words only seemed to make him angrier; he clearly thought I was just being stubborn. A couple of bodyguards stepped forward and forced me to the ground. He ignored the blood trickling from my hand and pried my fingers open, wrenching the bracelet from my grasp. He presented the blood-streaked bracelet to Serena. For a fleeting moment, as he glanced at the blood dripping from my fingertips, the concern in his eyes looked real. “There. Serena has forgiven you. Now go get your hand bandaged.” Pinned to the ground, I reached out desperately for the bracelet. The prolonged time in the cold water, combined with a sleepless night, finally took its toll. The world tilted, and the last thing I saw was Bruce’s panicked face before everything went black. I woke up the next morning in a sterile hospital room. It was empty, save for a glass of cold water on the nightstand, the only proof that someone had been there. A text from Bruce was on my phone. An address. “Come here if you want the bracelet back.” I forced myself out of bed, checked out of the hospital, and took a cab to the location. It was a park by the sea. In the distance, I could see what looked like a wedding ceremony. As I got closer, I recognized some of Bruce’s friends among the guests. When they saw me, their faces registered shock, then a flustered panic at being caught. And there, at the center of it all, was Bruce, arm-in-arm with Serena, accepting the congratulations of their guests. When Bruce saw me, the panic on his face was unmistakable. “What… what are you doing here?”

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1 The year I was at my absolute rock bottom, I took on three capture missions at once. Target number one was a rising tech mogul. Target number two was a genius surgeon. Target number three was a titan of the legal world. Given how insanely busy they all were, I figured as long as I managed my time well, it would be a piece of cake. But I forgot one crucial detail: three alpha tycoons means three “ones that got away.” And so, my life became a living hell. In the morning, I’d be accused of stealing a bracelet by number one’s childhood sweetheart and forced to kneel for hours as punishment. In the afternoon, I’d be commanded by number two to donate a kidney to his old flame, warning me it was the only way I’d ever be accepted into his family. At night, number three’s “best girl friend” would take intimate photos of me and use them to slut-shame me, while number three told me to lighten up, saying she was “just joking.” Three missions meant I was being tortured 24/7. Utterly exhausted, I cried to the System, asking if there was an option to quit. The System replied: [Quitting is easy. You just have to die in this world.] So I took its advice. I faked my death to escape. But after I was gone, why did all three tycoons completely shatter? … I was dirt poor. So when the System told me I could earn a hundred million for completing a single capture mission, I was desperate enough to take on three without a second thought. After all, back in my own world, I was the ultimate grinder, used to juggling three jobs a day. I thought the missions would be about saving these damaged men, about falling in love. I never expected each of them to have an old flame, a “white moonlight,” lurking in the wings. For five long years, I was physically and emotionally abused by these three women. The Heartbeat Value monitors above the tycoons’ heads remained stubbornly frozen. My body and spirit, however, were on the verge of collapse. The moment the System told me death was my only escape, I was on my knees, being punished by my first target, Ethan. His childhood sweetheart, Claire, had just returned to the country and immediately lost a precious bracelet, which she, of course, insisted I had stolen. I denied it. Ethan, furious, slapped me across the face. “You were the only one who touched Claire’s purse. If you didn’t steal it, who did?” Claire stood beside him, her tears flowing like a spring shower. “Ethan, that bracelet was the only thing my grandmother left me. It’s all I have to remember her by. If I can’t find it, I… I’ll fall apart.” Her tears only fueled Ethan’s rage. He kicked me sharply in the knee. A jolt of agony shot through me, and my legs buckled, forcing me to the ground. “Sophie,” he snarled, “I’m asking you one last time. Did you take the bracelet? Where did you hide it? If you don’t talk, you can kneel here until nightfall.” It was the dead of winter. Even in the daytime, the temperature was well below freezing. Kneeling outside until evening would, at best, leave me crippled. At worst, I’d freeze to death. And knowing Ethan, it didn’t matter what I said. I was going to be kneeling all day regardless. I had endured this for five years. I couldn’t take it anymore. With a surge of adrenaline, I shot to my feet and screamed at him. “Fine, I stole it! I stole the damn thing!” “I deserve to die for stealing her bracelet! So I’ll just go and die! Are you happy now?!” Without waiting for their reaction, I turned and sprinted toward the villa’s man-made lake. Though artificial, it was notoriously deep. And Ethan was terrified of water. If I jumped, I would surely die. Reaching the edge, I didn’t hesitate for a second. But as I plunged into the icy water, I saw a second figure leap in right after me. “Sophie, are you insane?!” 2 Ethan was the first tycoon I met in this world. He was the illegitimate son of a wealthy family. When I met him, Claire had just dumped him for money, and his own family had cast him out after he was diagnosed with liver cancer. To complete my mission, I took him into my tiny apartment, cared for him, and worked myself to the bone to pay his medical bills. When we discovered our blood types matched, I even donated a part of my liver to him. With his health restored, I helped him build his business from the ground up, transforming him into a powerful CEO. And then, just as his Heartbeat Value for me reached 99%, Claire came back. She claimed she had never left him for money; she said Ethan’s family had threatened her. She spun a tale of suffering abroad, of how she never stopped thinking of him for a single day. Ethan didn’t say much, but I knew he was moved. On the very day she returned, his Heartbeat Value for me dropped to 90%. Then he brought her home to live with us. When Claire accused me of giving her the cold shoulder, his value dropped to 80%. When she framed me for pushing her down the stairs, it fell to 70%. For five years, Ethan’s feelings for me fluctuated, finally settling at a miserable 30%. I had given up hope of it ever moving again. So when I woke up in a hospital bed and saw his Heartbeat Value had jumped to 50%, I was shocked. It wasn’t just the number that had changed. His entire demeanor was different. As I sat up, he rushed over, placing a pillow behind my back. “Careful. The doctor said you have a mild concussion.” The lake had been frozen over. I must have hit my head on the ice. The pain was excruciating. But his gentle tone felt so foreign it was disorienting. He shifted uncomfortably under my stare. “They found the bracelet,” he said, looking away. “I was wrong about you.” “The maid took it. She said she mistook it for her own. I’ve already fired her.” “Sophie, Claire was just overly anxious and jumped to conclusions. I’ve already told her she needs to apologize to you.” Apologize? Claire was going to apologize to me? Before I could even process it, Ethan had pulled a reluctant Claire into the room. She shuffled to my bedside and mumbled a half-hearted “sorry.” Then, unable to resist a parting shot, she added, “Sophie, can we please just talk things out next time? You scared everyone half to death jumping into the lake like that. We’re all adults here; we can solve problems rationally.” In the past, to keep Ethan’s Heartbeat Value from dropping, I would have let it slide. But I was done pretending. “Who wasn’t talking things out? I told you from the start it wasn’t me, but you didn’t believe me. And you, Ethan, this is what you call an apology? When you wanted me to apologize to her, you were ready to make me kneel all night. Since she’s the one who wronged me, shouldn’t she take a turn on her knees?” Claire’s face went pale. Ethan frowned, but before he could speak, Claire launched into another performance. “Sophie’s right. I’ll go kneel right now, as long as it makes her feel better.” With that, she fled the room. Ethan turned to me, his face grim, but he refrained from his usual harsh words. “Sophie, how could you say that to her? Her health is fragile; she can’t kneel for that long. I’m going to stop her. Don’t make jokes like that again.” 3 After Ethan left, the System chimed in. [Host, that move was effective!] “What move?” I asked. [The dying move! Target number one’s Heartbeat Value shot up! Should we keep it up?] I refused. I attempt suicide, and his value only goes up by 20%? That proved he didn’t really care about me. Why bother continuing? Just as I was planning my next great escape, my phone buzzed. A text. “Empyrean Club, Suite 308. 30 minutes.” No name, no greeting. Before I could reply, the sender was gone. Unmistakably, it was my third target, Wyatt. Wyatt was a lawyer, and we only ever met at night. He suffered from severe insomnia and could only fall asleep holding me. At first, it was purely platonic. Then, one night, he came home drunk. He started getting handsy, and when I tried to push him away, he whispered, “I want you. I’ll take responsibility.” I’m no hopeless romantic, but Wyatt was ridiculously handsome—a movie star’s face on a personal trainer’s body. I simply made a mistake any woman would make. After that night, I finally remembered to check his Heartbeat Value. It was only 30%. But I wasn’t discouraged. I poured my heart into winning him over. I cooked for him, helped him heal his childhood traumas, and gave him anything he wanted. Just when I thought my devotion would finally move him, I overheard him talking to his friends. “Like her? Not really. She’s just a free lay. I have no feelings for her. The one I like is Hannah.” Hannah. His “best girl friend,” the adored princess of their little clique. After Wyatt brought me to one of their gatherings, she made me her personal target. Whenever we met, she’d make crude jokes at my expense and flirt outrageously with Wyatt right in front of me. At first, her tactics didn’t bother me. Compared to Claire’s physical torment, these verbal jabs were nothing. But when she realized her taunts weren’t working, she turned vicious. She had Wyatt take a series of intimate photos and videos of me. Then, whenever their group got together, they’d use my videos as betting chips in their games. Buy them with cash, or win them in a round of cards. The first time I found out, I was furious and threatened to call the police. Wyatt just laughed. “I’m a lawyer. Even if you call the cops, I have a hundred ways to get Hannah off scot-free. I can guarantee she won’t face any consequences. Can you guarantee your videos won’t end up all over the internet?” I couldn’t. And I still had two other tycoons to capture. Annoying their “white moonlights” just meant more abuse. If they found out I was juggling all three of them, they might actually kill me. I had planned to ignore Wyatt’s text, but then I had an idea. If they were going to release my videos, I might as well drag them all down with me. I grabbed my phone and walked out. I was ten minutes late to the Empyrean Club. As soon as I pushed the door open, Hannah’s smug face was in mine. “Sophie, you’re late. You know the rules. The price on your little photos just went up by another ten grand. Pay up, or we post them online.” She smiled, a triumphant glint in her eyes. Wyatt sat on the sofa behind her, watching with a look of indulgent amusement. Without a second thought, I said, “Fine. Post them.” 4 Hannah blinked, stunned. “What did you say?” “You all want to see my nudes, right? Don’t bother. I’ll post them myself.” I pulled out my phone, started a livestream, and began to strip right in front of the camera. “Hi everyone, my name is Sophie. I’ve been dealing with a little problem lately. A woman named Hannah has been blackmailing me with intimate photos of me and her ‘best friend.’ It’s so strange how she’s singled me out. Do you think maybe it’s because she’s secretly in love with him?” As I spoke, I shed my coat, my sweater, my thermal layers… Just as I was down to my last thin shirt, a black overcoat was thrown over my shoulders. Wyatt’s face was thunderous. “Sophie, are you out of your mind? Do you have a death wish?” It wasn’t just him. The entire room was frozen in shock. Hannah was as white as a sheet. I just smiled at Wyatt. “Yes, I think I do.” He stared at me, confused. “What?” Before he could react, I dashed to the window and swung one leg over the sill. A collective gasp filled the room. “Sophie, what are you doing? Get down from there!” Wyatt roared. “Wyatt,” I called his name. “After all this time together, I have just one thing to say to you.” As he stared at me, his eyes wide with panic, I delivered my parting words. “Go to hell, you absolute fool.” And then I jumped. Wyatt’s scream was much louder than Ethan’s. But unfortunately for me, I didn’t die this time either. When I opened my eyes, I was back in a familiar hospital room. Wyatt explained that a garbage truck had been passing by just as I jumped. I had landed in a pile of trash bags. All I had was a broken leg. Just a broken leg? I stared at my cast, on the verge of tears. I should have picked a higher floor. Seeing my crestfallen expression, Wyatt must have thought I was traumatized. He cleared his throat. “I know why you did this.” I looked up at him. His Heartbeat Value had climbed to 60%. “You’re angry that I’ve been siding with my friends over you all this time. Don’t worry, I’ve already confiscated all the videos. I told Hannah to stop with the ‘jokes.’ So… you should understand what I mean by now, right?” I stared at him, completely baffled. His face turned bright red. “Sophie, I will allow you to pursue me.” He tilted his chin up, a smug look on his face, as if expecting me to leap into his arms. The words “Who the hell wants to pursue you” nearly flew out of my mouth. Just then, his phone rang. It was Hannah. “Hey, stud, are you done with your hospital drama? We’re waiting for you to get online. Don’t you dare bail on game night, or you’ll have me to answer to.” Her voice was so loud I could hear every word. Wyatt shot me an awkward glance. “Go,” I said flatly. He hesitated for a moment. “I’ll just play one round and come right back. It’s Hannah’s ranking match tonight. If I don’t help, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.” And with that, he was gone. I still wanted to die. I dragged my broken leg out of the hospital and bought a knife. On my way back, I decided to stop by the front desk to settle my bill. I was about to die, after all; no need to leave behind any debts. And that’s when I ran into my second target, Liam, in the hospital lobby. He was with his own childhood flame, Julia, who was there for a check-up. He saw me and froze, his brow furrowing. “Sophie. Are you following me?” Before I could explain, his patience wore thin. “Actually, you’re just in time. Go get a full workup. Julia’s kidney won’t last another month. You’ll be donating yours to her in a couple of days.” He said it so matter-of-factly, I had to laugh. “You want a kidney?” I pulled the knife from my sleeve and pressed it against my side. “Don’t wait. I’ll give it to you right now!” “In fact, I won’t just give her my kidney. She can have my life, too!” I imagined a clean thrust, a spray of blood, a dramatic end. But before the blade could break my skin, a hand closed around the steel. I looked up into Liam’s eyes. The sight of blood welling up around his clenched fist shocked me so much I dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor. A wave of gasps went through the crowd of onlookers. The first to react was Julia, who screamed for a doctor. Liam’s grip on my arm tightened, his face pale. “Sophie, is this your new trick? Do you think this will make me let you off the hook? Dream on.” I wrenched my arm away. “This isn’t a trick. This is your last chance. If you don’t want this kidney now, you’ll never get one from me.” I bent down to pick up the knife, but Liam stopped me. “Sophie, what are you doing? Put the knife down.” “It’s none of your business!” I struggled against his grip. He frowned. “Is this because I asked you to donate your kidney? Don’t worry, I’m a doctor. You can live a perfectly normal life with one kidney. I’ll make sure you live a very long time. And besides…” He hesitated, a rare blush coloring his cheeks. “My sister-in-law said if you do this, she’ll convince my mother to let you into our family.” “To hell with your family! If it’s no big deal, why don’t you donate one of yours?” I bit down hard on his hand, but even as I drew blood, he refused to let go. Finally, exhausted, I softened my voice. “Okay, Liam. You’re right. I was just trying to get your attention. You saw through me. I won’t do it again. Now let me go.” He finally relaxed his grip, letting out a long sigh. “Sophie, don’t ever play these kinds of…” Before he could finish, I raised the knife and drew it swiftly across my own throat. Blood sprayed across his face. As I collapsed, I heard three distinct voices screaming my name. “Sophie!” The last thing I saw before my eyes closed was two other familiar figures pushing through the crowd, rushing toward me.

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The moment I stepped through the Ashworths’ front door, a small boy, no older than six, burst past me and threw himself to his knees before the family. “Grandma, I finally get to meet you!” he wailed. “Mommy said she’s the real heiress, the one who was switched at birth, and she was coming back to the Ashworth manor to live a life of luxury.” “But I was born from her and some man she wasn’t married to, so she couldn’t bring me with her.” “But I wanted to see you all so much! Even if Mommy beats me to death for this, I won’t regret it!” As he spoke, he shot a timid, fearful glance in my direction. Julian Ashworth, the eldest son, frowned in disgust. “Utterly shameless. What a disgrace to the Ashworth name!” The fake heiress, Vivian, offered a saccharine attempt at comfort. “Don’t be too hard on her, Julian. She must have made a mistake. The child, at least, is innocent.” At that, the little boy pulled out a photograph. It was a picture of me, with my arm wrapped affectionately around him. He grabbed my hand, his eyes wide with a desperate longing. “Mommy, I’ll leave now…” “I’ll disappear, just like you wanted. I’ll go back to living on the streets. I promise I won’t ruin your new life here at the manor!” I tilted my head, an amused smile playing on my lips. Funny. I don’t remember ever saying I was the long-lost daughter. … The boy scrambled to his feet and began to stumble towards the door. “Wait a minute!” Eleanor Ashworth cried, finally snapping out of her shock. Her voice, sharp with emotion, made the boy instantly flinch. He wrapped his arms around his head and curled into a ball on the floor, trembling violently. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he whimpered, his lips quivering. “Mutt won’t do it again. Please don’t hit me, Mommy!” “Mutt will slap himself! I’ll do it until Mommy is happy!” He raised a small hand to strike his own face, but Julian lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. Julian’s face was a dark thundercloud. “What did you say your name was?” he asked, his voice low and incredulous. “Mutt?” “What kind of a name is that for a person?” The boy shrank back, glancing fearfully at me before quickly lowering his head. Eleanor knelt beside him, her voice softening as she tentatively stroked his hair. “It’s alright, sweetie. Don’t be afraid. You can tell us anything.” The boy’s head shot up, his eyes swimming with tears as he looked at Eleanor. “Grandma, you’re so nice. Mommy has never, ever spoken to me so gently…” “My daddy ran away as soon as I was born, so Mommy has always hated me.” “She gave me that name so I would never forget that I’m just a dog.” “Until I was three, she chained me to a tree outside and fed me from a dog bowl!” “It was only because a neighbor threatened to call Child Protective Services that she finally let me live inside the house…” As his words hung in the air, every eye in the room turned on me. Julian pointed a shaking finger, his voice raw with fury. “Are you even human, Lily?” “He’s your own son!” “You couldn’t control yourself, had a child out of wedlock with some stranger, and you take all your resentment out on him!” “Someone like you has no right to be an Ashworth!” Eleanor shook her head, her face a mask of disappointment. “If you can be this cruel to your own flesh and blood, what genuine feelings could you possibly have for us?” “It seems the boy was right. You’re only here for the Ashworth fortune!” Vivian, who had been silent until now, rushed to Eleanor’s side and gently rubbed her back. “Mother, please don’t get upset! It’s bad for your health!” “I’m sure my sister has her reasons. Sister, if you have some story to tell, please explain it to Mother.” “Were you… were you forced?” I ignored her, my gaze fixed on the boy. For a split second, I saw a flicker of triumph in his eyes. When he saw me looking, he immediately began to tremble again. “Mommy, don’t worry,” he whispered meekly. “I’ll never tell Grandma that you plan to kick her adopted daughter out and take over the manor!” “Or that you said the fake heiress stole your life, and once she’s gone, you’re going to hire men to… to defile her and make her suffer!” He clapped a hand over his mouth, feigning regret. “Oh, Mommy, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that…” A humorless smile touched my lips. “You certainly haven’t left anything out, have you?” “Haven’t you heard, little boy? Liars get punished. Sometimes, they even lose their tongues.” The boy’s face went white, his eyes widening in terror. “You shut your mouth, Lily!” Julian’s face was flushed with rage. “You dare threaten a child right in front of us?” “You want to kick Vivian out? And defile her? How can you be so venomous?” “Let me tell you something. We would throw you out on the street before we ever let Vivian leave!” “She will always be my sister!” Eleanor nodded in agreement. “That’s right! Lily, we may have acknowledged you as our blood, but Vivian is our daughter too. You must accept that!” Vivian’s eyes welled with tears. Taking a few deep breaths, she walked over to me. “Sister, I don’t blame you. It’s true that I’m the one who stole your life.” She reached out and took my hand in hers. “But I can’t bear to leave Mom, Dad, and Julian. Please, I’m begging you, don’t make me go… Can’t we be real sisters?” “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you!” “Ah!” Vivian cried out, snatching her hand back with a sharp hiss of pain. She stared at me, her voice trembling with hurt. “Sister… why… why did you pinch me?” The boy immediately rushed forward and grabbed the hem of my shirt. “Mommy, calm down! You can hit me, but you can’t just hit other people!” As he spoke, he deliberately rolled up his sleeve, revealing angry purple bruises on his small arm. Eleanor gasped. She grabbed Vivian’s hand and, sure enough, saw a raw, red mark near her thumb where I had supposedly pinched her. She whirled on me. “Lily, you dare lay a hand on Vivian? You uncultured brute!” Julian was more direct. He raised his hand to slap me. I caught his wrist, my voice cold as ice. “Shouldn’t you take a closer look at the child’s injuries first?” Julian froze, then glared at me with contempt. “What? Now you’re pretending to care about him? Stop the act!” I ignored him and reached for the boy’s arm. He tried to pull away, a flash of malice in his eyes. I swiped a firm hand across his arm. Eleanor, seeing this, rushed to pull him into a protective hug. “What are you doing now…” “Funny how your bruises seem to be smudging,” I interrupted her with a dry laugh. “What…” Eleanor stared, then looked down at the boy’s arm. Where the purple marks had been, there was now a distinct smear, revealing the smooth, unblemished skin underneath. Before anyone could react, I grabbed Vivian’s hand and gave it a hard wipe. “And your red mark seems to be coming off, too.” Panic flashed across both Vivian’s and the boy’s faces. I crossed my arms, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “My apologies. I forgot to mention, I have a habit of carrying makeup remover with me.” The room fell silent. Eleanor and Julian stared, mouths agape, utterly speechless. After a long moment, Eleanor finally found her voice. “Well, that doesn’t prove you didn’t pinch Vivian. It just means you didn’t pinch her hard enough to leave a mark.” “As for the red on her hand, she probably just got something on it without realizing.” “And the boy… well, after all the abuse you’ve put him through, it’s no wonder he’s learned a few tricks to protect himself.” I had to admire her ability to twist logic into such a pretzel. Julian, however, was frowning, a thoughtful expression on his face. Seeing this, the boy quickly produced the photograph of us again. “Mommy, don’t be mad,” he said with a manufactured sadness. “Mutt only did this to get your attention…” “You never wanted to be close to me. I had to beg for so long just for you to take this one picture with me.” “I thought… I thought maybe if I was hurt, you would finally pay a little attention to me…” Eleanor sighed. “You poor, poor child.” Vivian, having recovered from her initial panic, quickly chimed in. “Sister grew up in such a poor environment, of course she never received a proper education.” “What she did was cruel, but I’m sure she didn’t mean it. She just… wasn’t taught any better.” Her words only deepened the disgust on Eleanor’s face as she looked at me. I glanced at the photo, then said casually, “It’s a fake.” “That photo is Photoshopped. I don’t know this boy, and I am not his mother.” Eleanor and Julian stared. Then, Eleanor let out a harsh laugh. “Lily, I never imagined you would turn out like this.” “Selfish, cruel, and a compulsive liar. If you had just admitted it, I might have had a shred of respect for you. This just makes you even more disgusting.” I had wanted to deny it from the start, but their rapid-fire accusations had already cemented the lie as truth in their minds. Besides, I was curious to see what other tricks the little performer had up his sleeve. Vivian shook her head in disapproval. “Sister, there’s a photograph. Are you still going to deny it?” “We’ll help you raise him, I promise. Please don’t disown him. That would be too cruel…” “Don’t worry about what other people might say. It’s not a big deal!” Gossip wouldn’t be a big deal for her, of course. The whispers would all be about the Ashworths’ real heiress being shameless trash. I raised an eyebrow at her. “Whether it’s Photoshopped or not is easy enough to prove. Anyone with basic skills could tell.” “It wouldn’t even take much time.” Vivian’s face paled. “But what if the person you find is in on it with you?” she muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear. I scoffed and was about to reply when Julian took the photo and studied it closely. “It actually is Photoshopped,” he said, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Could it be… this boy really isn’t Lily’s son?” Vivian went even paler. Just then, the butler rushed into the room, flustered. “Ma’am, there’s a man at the door! He claims to be Miss Lily’s husband!” A faint blush returned to Vivian’s pale cheeks, and the corner of her mouth twitched into a subtle smile. Before the butler could finish, a rough-looking man burst into the villa. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he immediately lunged to grab my hand. “Wife! There you are! Come on, let’s go home!” He flashed a set of yellowed teeth, his voice loud and grating. Eleanor’s face was a mask of undisguised revulsion. The man, ignoring everyone else, continued to shout. “It’s me, Zeke! What’s wrong, wife? Don’t you remember that night we had together?” “You’re the one who seduced me! We had our fun, and I wanted to marry you, but then you said I was too poor and you just took off!” “I’ve been looking for you for years! Lily, you have no idea how hard I’ve been searching!” The little boy suddenly piped up. “Are… are you my daddy? I have a daddy…?” His voice trembled, and fat tears rolled down his cheeks. Zeke strode over and swept the boy into a hug. “That’s right! I’m your dad!” “I’ve always known about you, son. I’ve been looking for you this whole time!” The “father and son” clung to each other in a deeply moving reunion. I clapped my hands slowly, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “How touching. Except I have no idea who you are.” “If you continue with this charade, I’m calling the police.” Zeke’s face fell, and he instinctively glanced towards Vivian. My suspicions were confirmed. Vivian avoided his gaze and, in a seemingly casual gesture, touched her own shoulder. Zeke’s eyes lit up as if remembering something. “I have proof!” he yelled. “The night we were together, I saw it! You have a red birthmark on your left shoulder!” Before I could react, Vivian rushed forward and yanked down the collar of my shirt. There, for all to see, was a vivid red birthmark. Vivian gasped, covering her mouth. “How can this be?” “I didn’t believe a word this man said! I just wanted to help you prove your innocence, sister, but…” “Sister, please don’t be angry with me. I truly didn’t mean any harm…” I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “You certainly did your research.” Her eyes flickered for a moment before she looked down, feigning guilt. “I just never expected…” she trailed off, then turned to Zeke, her voice firm as if defending me. “This doesn’t count! A birthmark proves nothing!” “Do you have any other proof? If not… then you can… cough cough… get out!” Vivian’s display of emotion sent her into a fit of coughing. Julian immediately wrapped an arm around her. “Vivian, don’t get so worked up. It’s bad for your health.” “This birthmark is enough to prove Lily was involved with him. She’s a woman with no self-respect. You don’t need to fight for her.” He glared at me, his face red with shame. “I am so embarrassed for you! How could the Ashworth family have a daughter like you?” “When you go out from now on, you are forbidden from telling anyone you are my sister!” Zeke’s eyes darted around, and he started yelling again. “Who says I don’t have other proof?” “If that’s not enough, I have a paternity test! It proves this boy is my son!” He puffed out his chest and pulled a folded document from his pocket. No one else seemed to notice that from the moment my birthmark was revealed, Eleanor Ashworth hadn’t said a word. She was just staring at my shoulder, lost in a daze. “You two just met today, and you already have a paternity test?” I asked, a mocking smile on my face. Vivian shot Zeke a venomous look, and he instantly looked flustered. “That’s not important!” he blustered, trying to change the subject. “What’s important is that you and I were together!” “Of course, I get it. Now that you’re a rich lady, you look down on me even more!” “I’m not asking you to marry me anymore. But you have to compensate me!” “Lily, I heard that ever since you found out you were an Ashworth, you’ve been bragging to everyone about how rich your family is!” Julian shot me another dirty look before reluctantly asking, “How much compensation do you want?” Zeke’s greedy eyes swept across the lavish villa. “Five… no, ten million! I want ten million dollars!” “Impossible!” Julian snapped. “That’s extortion. I suggest you don’t get too greedy!” “If you don’t pay up, I’ll tell the whole world about me and Lily! Let everyone see what kind of trash your Ashworth daughter really is!” “You rich people care about your reputation more than anything, don’t you?” Zeke sneered. “You!” Julian sputtered, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Look at the mess you’ve made!” I had seen enough of the show. I let out a short, sharp laugh and turned to the little boy. “Am I really your mother? Did I really say I wouldn’t bring you back to the manor to enjoy this life of luxury?” He nodded without hesitation. I turned to the man. “And am I really your wife?” He jutted out his chin. “Of course! You told me not to bother you once you got back to the Ashworths!” I chuckled softly. “You two have certainly spun an interesting tale.” “Just stop lying and figure out how to solve this,” Julian said, rubbing his temples wearily. Vivian sighed. “Sister, it’s not that I don’t want to believe you, but… the evidence is overwhelming. Just admit it.” “Who said my name was Lily?” I asked calmly. Vivian blinked. “What? What are you talking about?” I gave her a sidelong glance. “I don’t recall ever saying that I was the real Ashworth heiress, Lily.” Julian and Vivian stared at me, their eyes wide with shock. Just then, the front door opened and Richard Ashworth, the father, walked in, beaming. “Honey, I brought Lily home!” “Lily, come, this is your mother and your brother.” A girl’s soft voice answered, and she stepped out from behind him. Only then did Richard notice the tense atmosphere. “What’s going on? Why are there so many people here today?” He looked at me, his expression grateful. “Miss Clarke! You got here even faster than we did!” “I offered to send a car for you, but you declined. I was worried we might have been neglectful!” Vivian finally found her voice, her face ashen. “Dad, what are you talking about?” “Miss Clarke? And… who did you say she is?” Vivian pointed a trembling finger at the girl behind her father. “Why, that’s Lily,” Richard said with a smile. “Your mother and I discussed it. We were worried that if word got out, Lily would be overwhelmed with attention, so I decided to go pick her up myself.” “Honey, look! Isn’t she the spitting image of you when you were young?” Eleanor, who had been silent all this time, finally reacted. Her eyes reddened, and her lips trembled. “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s my daughter, Lily.” “Because when my baby was born, the doctors showed her to me for just a moment. My daughter… had no birthmark.” “What did you say…” Vivian was completely stunned. Richard continued, “And as for Miss Clarke, we owe her our deepest gratitude!” “Her parents were the ones who adopted our Lily. And after her parents passed away, Miss Clarke worked multiple jobs to raise Lily on her own…” I had always treated Lily as my own sister, and I would have taken care of her for the rest of my life. But a while ago, Richard Ashworth found me and told me that Lily was their family’s long-lost daughter. From that day on, strange people started appearing in our neighborhood. They would quietly ask the neighbors about our family, always focusing their questions on Lily. Our neighbors, who had always looked out for us, warned me to be careful. So I came up with a plan. I asked them that if anyone else came asking, they should say that I was Lily. I was worried about my sister, and when I heard the Ashworths had an adopted daughter, I felt it was better to be safe than sorry. I just never imagined that Vivian would actually plot to frame her. …

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In my previous life, just before the wedding, I found my fiancée, Phoebe, naked in our marital bed with my best friend. In a blind rage, I hurled the heavy steel thermos I was holding at the two of them. Phoebe, bleeding from the head, called the cops immediately. I was facing assault charges. It was either jail time or a fifty-thousand-dollar settlement. To keep me out of trouble, my mom paid it without a second thought. Things had gone too far. The wedding was off. But when it came time to return the engagement gifts, Phoebe claimed the one hundred thousand dollars’ worth of solid gold jewelry I’d given her was all fake. With the price of gold having skyrocketed, she sued me for two hundred and twenty thousand dollars in cash. It wiped out my mother’s life savings and every penny I had. The stress caused my mom to have a stroke, landing her in the ICU. Crushed by the weight of it all, I was a ghost walking. I stumbled, tumbled down a flight of stairs, and the impact to my head killed me. When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back on that same, cursed day. 1 My friends and I stood frozen, staring at my fiancée, Phoebe, and my best friend, Lewis, tangled together naked in what was supposed to be our marital bed. Clothes were strewn across the floor, and the air was thick with a sour, repulsive smell. For a moment, the world went silent. My friends were stunned into disbelief by the shameless scene before them. As for me, I was just reeling from being reborn. In my last life, just before I died, I received the court notice. A lien on my future, ordering me to pay Phoebe that two hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Even as I closed my eyes for the last time, I knew that debt would follow me into the grave, a final victory for that venomous woman. “You shameless bastards! What the hell are you doing?!” “Phoebe, you’re getting married! How could you do something like this?” “Wait, isn’t that guy Kevin’s best friend? You’re sleeping with your best friend’s fiancée? Haven’t you ever heard of bro code?” My friends finally found their voices, their shock turning to outrage. But Phoebe and Lewis didn’t react like people caught in the act. There was no scrambling for clothes, no panic. Instead, they both turned to look at me, their eyes filled with a chilling mix of defiance and contempt. Phoebe leisurely pulled the duvet over her chest. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice impossibly calm. “I thought you were arranging the wedding cars.” There was no begging, no tears, just a breathtaking display of shamelessness. Then it hit me. Before coming to see the new apartment, I had texted Phoebe, telling her I was bringing a few friends over to check it out. She knew we were coming. She had set this up. Last time, I was too consumed by rage to think clearly. The sight of their brazenness made me snap. I grabbed the thermos and threw it. I remembered how Phoebe, a supposedly delicate woman, had calmly wiped the blood from her forehead and dialed 911. She wanted me to lose control. I understood now. I couldn’t let her provoke me again. But my friends were already at their breaking point. “It’s a damn good thing we came to see Kevin’s new place,” one of them seethed. “Otherwise, how would we have caught you screwing around with another man?” “Quick, get it on video! Let’s show everyone what kind of disgusting people these two are.” Phones were already out, cameras pointed at the half-dressed pair. “Don’t!” I shouted, stepping in front of my friends, blocking their view. They stared at me, confused. “Are you crazy, Kevin?” Ryan, my closest friend, demanded. “If we don’t record this, they’ll just deny everything!” I gave a bitter smile. What difference would it make? In court last time, I submitted a video of their affair. But the law stated that since we weren’t married yet, she hadn’t committed a crime, only a moral transgression. Phoebe had even threatened to countersue me for invasion of privacy. “Spreading this stuff online is illegal,” I explained, my voice tight. “She’ll sue us.” My words made them lower their phones. “So we just let them get away with it?” Ryan fumed. “What if they twist the story and blame you?” “Oh, we’re definitely getting proof,” I said, pulling out my own phone. “But I’ll be the one to do it.” 2 I aimed my camera and took a series of clear, damning photos of the two of them, huddled together in their state of undress. There wasn’t a trace of fear in their eyes. Lewis even had the gall to smirk at me. “You can’t really blame me, Kevin,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “You just couldn’t satisfy her.” He draped an arm around Phoebe. “A woman’s heart follows her body. It’s just nature.” Words from a scumbag like him could make a man choke on his own blood. And this was my best friend. The one who had set me up with Phoebe in the first place. I had been so grateful to him, thinking I’d found a beautiful, gentle woman. I never imagined they’d end up like this, in my bed. But this time, his words couldn’t touch me. In my past life, I had been a wreck. I fell apart, wondering what I’d done wrong to deserve a betrayal so deep from the two people I trusted most. Now? I wouldn’t waste a second on self-doubt. Because I knew, with absolute certainty, that this wasn’t normal. It wasn’t logical. Phoebe and Lewis weren’t the people I thought they were. They were wolves in sheep’s clothing. “You son of a bitch!” Ryan couldn’t take it anymore. “Kevin treated you like a brother, and you sleep with his fiancée?” He lunged for Lewis, and I grabbed him, holding him back with all my strength. Ryan’s face was purple with rage. “Let me go, Kevin! I’ll teach them a lesson for you. You don’t need to get your hands dirty.” I knew how much this hurt him. He was genuinely happy for me, hoping I’d finally found someone to build a life with. But I also knew the price of a moment’s satisfaction. It had cost me everything—my family, my life. I couldn’t imagine what became of my mom in the ICU after I died. “It’s not worth it,” I said, my grip firm, my voice steady. “Wrecking our own lives over these two? It’s not worth it.” My calm, rational gaze seemed to cut through his anger, and Ryan slowly relaxed his fists. “Just break it off with her, man,” he said. “You’ll find someone else. You can’t marry this… this trash.” The others murmured in agreement. They took my lead, shelving the idea of violence. But words weren’t illegal, and they unleashed a torrent of insults that left the pair on the bed speechless. Yet, Phoebe and Lewis showed no remorse. They dressed slowly, their eyes filled with mockery as they watched me and my furious friends. “Break it off?” Phoebe finally said, a smirk playing on her lips. “Fine by me, Kevin. Let’s see who chickens out!” Hearing those words, my heart sank with a grim certainty. This was it. Breaking the engagement was the trigger. She was goading me into it so she could claim the gold I gave her was fake. I wouldn’t be her puppet this time. I took a deep breath and, with a few taps, sent the photos I’d just taken to a massive group chat. “By the way,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I’ve gone ahead and announced your little affair to everyone.” “You two can enjoy the pictures.” With that, I turned to my friends. “Let’s go.” “Kevin, don’t let it get to you,” they said, trying to comfort me on the way out. “Finding out before the wedding is actually a blessing in disguise…” I assured them I was fine. Then I dialed my mom. “Mom, I’m coming home now,” I said, my voice urgent. “If Phoebe or her mother calls you, don’t answer. Don’t reply to any texts. Just ignore them completely.” 3 When I got home, my mom’s eyes were already red. The photos I’d posted had exploded across our social circles. Phoebe’s mother had, of course, immediately called my mom. Following my instructions, she hadn’t picked up, but she couldn’t avoid the flood of dozens of abusive text messages. I gently took the phone from her hands. I sat down with her and explained everything, carefully, patiently. My number one priority was to manage her emotions. I had to ensure she wouldn’t suffer another stroke. As I spoke, Phoebe’s mom called again and again. I finally answered and put it on speaker. “You son of a bitch!” her voice shrieked through the phone. “You plaster my daughter’s photos everywhere for the world to see! How is she supposed to face anyone? I swear to God, I won’t let you get away with this!” So much for the woman who always gushed about how she saw me as her own son. The mask was off. “You’re yelling at the wrong person,” I replied, my voice cold as ice. “Your daughter’s the tramp. And if you’re wondering where she got it from, I suggest you look in a mirror.” Her rage escalated into a stream of incoherent sputtering. “Don’t you get cocky! We’re suing you for invasion of privacy!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “And what privacy did I invade, exactly?” The photos I sent showed scattered clothes and a messy bed. Not a single image was explicit. There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. “You bastard,” she finally hissed. “You just wait.” She hung up. Despite my reassurances, hearing that venomous tirade made my mom tremble, tears welling in her eyes. “Call it off,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “Call off the wedding right now. We want nothing to do with people like that. And we want the gifts back. That was one hundred thousand dollars in gold jewelry. We want every last piece back.” I took her hand. “We won’t get it back just yet, Mom.” “She’s not going to return it. Because they’ve already swapped it all for fakes.” My mother’s jaw dropped. “Fakes? But we bought all of that from a reputable jeweler! We have the receipts, the certificates of authenticity. It was all real!” Yes, it was. But none of that mattered. In my past life, I showed the court the purchase records, the receipts, the certificates. It was useless. Phoebe insisted I had given her fakes from the very beginning. She accused me of fraud and demanded I compensate her for the appreciated value of the gold, which came to two hundred and twenty thousand dollars. I paused, carefully sorting through my thoughts. This was, without a doubt, a trap set by Phoebe and Lewis. It was probably a setup from the moment Lewis introduced us. I knew he had been struggling financially for the past couple of years. At the time, I hadn’t thought anything of it. Phoebe was beautiful, smart, and seemed perfect in every way. When we got engaged, she insisted on the hundred thousand dollars in gold jewelry. She said cash gifts felt impersonal, while gold was a true gift to her. She even mentioned how it was a great investment that was sure to appreciate. It all made sense now. When I broke off the engagement, she would accuse me of giving her fakes, of committing fraud, and of costing her a massive profit from the gold’s rising value. “But she’s the one who cheated!” my mom cried, her voice filled with disbelief. “By tradition, she has to return the engagement gifts! That’s one hundred thousand dollars she owes us!” The reality of the situation was sinking in, and she looked utterly lost. The value had more than doubled since we bought it. I sighed and shook my head. This was the hard part. I had no way to prove the gold I gave her was real. I had no idea where the real jewelry had gone. And Phoebe would sue me, demanding the full market value of two hundred and twenty thousand dollars. But I had been reborn. No matter how impossible it seemed, I had to find a way to break this unbreakable trap. 4 As expected, when I met with Phoebe to officially end the engagement, she met me with a cold, mocking smile. “You think you can just call it off whenever you want?” she sneered. “First, you can explain to me why you gave me fake gold for our engagement. Why did you lie to me?” It was happening. Exactly like before. I just watched her, silent. Even though I’d already died once, seeing her face still made a volcano of rage threaten to erupt inside me. I had once planned to spend my life with this woman. I never knew a human heart could be so venomous, so twisted. She dramatically opened a jewelry box. Inside lay the bracelets, the gold beads, the necklaces—one hundred thousand dollars’ worth of glittering metal. “Here it is,” she announced to the family members gathered. “Looks real enough, right? Each piece has a serial number, a receipt. But if I hadn’t looked closely, I never would have discovered they were all fakes.” She produced a pair of bolt cutters and, without hesitation, clamped down on a thick bracelet. With a sickening snap, the bracelet broke, revealing a dull, gray core. She continued, snapping piece after piece, each one revealing the same worthless metal inside. The room gasped. “Fake! It’s all fake!” Phoebe shrieked, pointing at me. “Kevin gave me fake gold! Everyone, look! I gave him my heart, and he deceived me with a box of junk!” Her mother chimed in, launching into a tirade about how rotten and depraved I was. I glanced at my mom. Thank God for the warning. She stood silently, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. I squeezed her hand. It’s okay. I’m here. This time, she wouldn’t collapse from the shock. This time, Phoebe wouldn’t have a crowd of her people surrounding my mother, preventing her from getting to a hospital. “This is just disgusting!” Phoebe’s mother yelled. “Who gives fake engagement gifts? One hundred thousand dollars of junk! Nobody is leaving here today!” “Not until you give us the real gold, or the money! Nobody leaves!” Phoebe was still screaming, but I tuned her out, letting her perform. I had no intention of leaving. Her little show wasn’t over yet. I just muttered, my voice devoid of emotion, “I gave them to you right after I bought them. I have no idea what happened.” Just like last time, Phoebe dialed 911. Her mother didn’t stop her verbal assault, but her words couldn’t hurt me this time. Because I had come prepared. I brought a few of my most sharp-tongued relatives with me. And as instructed, they didn’t take the bait. When Phoebe’s mom screamed about my black heart and fake gifts, my relatives fired back about her daughter’s filthy habits and questionable upbringing. It was a standoff. You scream your insults, we’ll scream ours. When the police arrived, they mediated, explaining that this was a civil dispute. We could either negotiate or take it to court. “Alright, we’re leaving,” I said calmly. Phoebe shot me a dark look and tried to block my path, but the officer intervened. “Kevin, don’t think you can just walk away from this,” she hissed. “I will sue you. But, for old time’s sake, if you get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness right now, and post a public apology clearing my name, maybe I’ll let you off for a few thousand.” Her smug expression was nauseating. But wasting another breath on her was pointless. “Fine,” I said. “Sue me. If you don’t, you’re a coward.” 5 Phoebe was no coward. The court summons arrived shortly after. My mom was still worried sick. “I’ve talked to several lawyers,” she said, her voice heavy with anxiety. “They all say the same thing. We have no way to prove the gold we gave her was real. If she demands compensation for being deceived, the court will most likely rule in her favor.” I, on the other hand, was surprisingly calm. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m not even going to hire a lawyer for this one. Save the money.” “Don’t worry,” I added, seeing the fear in her eyes. “I can handle this.” The court date arrived quickly. I sat alone at the defendant’s table. Across from me, Phoebe sat with a high-profile lawyer, a smirk playing on her lips. Her mother and Lewis were in the gallery, watching with smug satisfaction. Phoebe’s demand was simple: either I produce the real gold jewelry, or I pay her its current market value—two hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Her lawyer presented the evidence: the receipts and certificates with their unique serial numbers, a video from our engagement party of me giving her the box of gold, and another video of her “discovering” the fakes in front of everyone. It was a perfectly constructed, logical loop of evidence. The judge turned to me. “And your evidence, Mr. Defendant? You claim you gave her real gold. Where is your proof?” I was silent for a long moment. “I have no proof,” I finally said. “I just find it… strange. Isn’t it a bit too convenient that the plaintiff was so prepared for all of this? I bought real gold from a certified dealer. How did it become fake in her possession?” But my words changed nothing. The verdict was delivered. I was ordered to either produce the original items or pay their current market value of two hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Phoebe was not required to return a single thing. Phoebe’s mother let out a whoop of joy and high-fived Lewis. In the gallery, I could hear people whispering. “Doesn’t this seem a little too perfect for the woman? Demanding that much gold, and then conveniently discovering it’s fake… something feels off.” “It feels off, sure, but the guy has no evidence.” I rose from my seat, my face a mask of calm. Phoebe stepped in front of me, blocking my way. She leaned in, her smile dripping with venom. “How does it feel to lose?” she whispered. “Don’t worry. You have one month to wire the two hundred and twenty thousand to my account. Otherwise, I’ll file for a court-ordered seizure. You’ll pay me, even if you have to sell everything you own.” Looking at her vicious, triumphant face, I finally understood the meaning of a beautiful monster. But she had no idea. My counterattack was just beginning.

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1 To test my loyalty, my wife, Seraphina, hid her identity as a billionaire heiress for three years. The year our son was born, she came back into my life, revealing who she truly was. But just as she did, our son, Noah, was struck by a sudden illness that required a fortune to treat. That’s when her first love, Julian, reappeared, accusing me of being a gold-digging social climber. “Seraphina, he’s only after your money. How else do you explain the timing? The moment you reveal your identity, the child suddenly needs a massive amount of cash?” The look my wife gave me turned to one of pure contempt. That night, a group of men snatched our son. Right in front of me, they stuffed him into a burlap sack and began beating him with clubs. Just then, Seraphina emerged from a nearby luxury car, arm-in-arm with Julian, a cold smile on her face. “Leo, you love money so much, so I’ll give you some! You said he would protect you? Let’s see how much your precious mutt is worth!” I crawled to their feet, clutching their pant legs, begging Seraphina to spare him, reminding her that she was his mother too. She looked down at me with icy detachment. “Enough. It’s just a dog. Stop the theatrics.” … I stared blankly at the woman before me—my child’s mother. The sheer, crushing pain made my mind grind to a halt. I could almost hear the creak and groan of gears inside my head, like a machine on the verge of breakdown. It took a long moment for her words to register. “What did you say? What dog?” My question only intensified the scorn on her face. “I said, it’s just a dog. Even if you’ve had it for years, you can’t possibly treat a dog like it’s your actual son, can you?” Seraphina thought the thing in the sack was my pet dog, Buddy. The misunderstanding hit me like a physical blow. My lips trembled as I scrambled to explain. “Seraphina, that’s not Buddy in the sack! Buddy ran away a few days ago! That’s our son, Noah! That’s Noah!” “Please, get him to a hospital! He might still be alive!” I scrambled on all fours, trying to snatch the sack from the men to prove I was telling the truth. Seeing my bloodless face and a desperation she had never witnessed before, a flicker of unease crossed Seraphina’s features. She took a step forward, about to check the sack for herself, but Julian placed a hand on her arm, sighing dramatically. “Leo’s acting is a marvel. It’s a shame he never got an Oscar. Sera, are you really going to stand here and watch his performance? I’m heading back.” He added, “Besides, if it were a child, wouldn’t it be crying after a beating like that?” “This is what people from the bottom are like. They’ll spin any lie for a bit of money.” His words were like a switch. Seraphina’s face hardened, and that fleeting moment of concern was instantly replaced by disgust. “Enough!” she snapped at me. “You said your dog was a warrior who served on the battlefield with you. Let’s see just how tough he really is!” At her command, the men raised their clubs and began beating the sack again. I tried to lunge forward, to shield the sack with my own body, but her bodyguards pinned me to the ground. “No! Please, he’s so small! Let him go! Beat me instead! Beat me!” In my despair, all I could do was slam my forehead against the pavement, again and again, a desperate, useless plea to the two people standing over me. My life, my dignity—none of it mattered compared to my son’s. Seraphina looked away, a hint of discomfort in her eyes, but Julian wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close and casting a triumphant, mocking smile in my direction. No one listened to my hoarse screams. In the suffocating darkness, my cries of anguish mingled with the sickening thud of clubs, weaving a net of pure despair. A dark crimson stain began to seep through the burlap, spreading into a pool of blood on the asphalt. Finally, amid my soul-shattering roars of agony, the small life inside the sack went still. The men holding me down released their grip. In an instant, I was on my feet, scrambling to the sack, clutching the blood-soaked, mangled bundle to my chest. Seraphina, apparently bored with the show, gave a dismissive wave of her hand. She and Julian slipped back into their car and sped away. The night wind was cold, and a violent shiver wracked my body. “Noah, you must be cold. Daddy will give you his coat.” I tore off my jacket and wrapped it tightly around the small, broken form. I knew I was fooling myself, but a desperate, insane sliver of hope remained. What if? What if Noah was strong? What if he hadn’t left me yet? Clinging to that impossible hope, I ran to the hospital. “Help me! Please, save my son…” The medical staff took the burlap sack from me with looks of confusion. When they opened it, a nurse screamed. I didn’t hear her. My eyes were fixed on the doctor. “Doctor, can he be saved? Is there still time?” The doctor looked at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher—pity, perhaps, or something stranger. He finally let out a heavy sigh. “Sir, in a situation like this, we recommend you contact the police first.” His words shattered my last hope into a million pieces. I took a deep, shuddering breath and finally forced myself to look inside the sack. The small child who used to smile at me was no longer recognizable. He was a ruin of flesh and bone. I couldn’t even make out his face. After the initial, searing pain, a cold, hard rage began to build inside me. The death certificate was issued quickly. I went to the police station and reported everything, from beginning to end. Hours later, an officer came and sat down beside me. Noticing my deathly pale face, he hesitated before speaking. “Mr. Thompson, my deepest condolences. The area where this happened… there are no security cameras. It’s going to be difficult to find evidence.” “But please, rest assured, we will get you justice.” I nodded, numb. Just then, my phone rang, breaking the heavy silence. I answered. It was Seraphina, her voice sharp with annoyance. “Where are you? Why aren’t you home yet? And where is Noah?” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. The absurdity of it all made even my anger feel distant and light. “Noah? Didn’t you have him beaten to death? His body is still at the morgue. Would you like to come see it?” Her voice turned shrill. “Leo, what has happened to you? Are you so desperate for money that you’d lie about our own son?” “Julian was right about you. You’re nothing but a manipulative, gold-digging parasite!” I was too tired to argue. I just wanted the law to give me and my son some semblance of justice. After leaving the station, I returned to the funeral home in a daze. The mortician had done their best, but the violence Noah had endured was too severe. His small face could not be restored. In a fog of grief, I started to wonder if this was all just a nightmare. Just a month ago, he was nestled in Seraphina’s arms, gurgling and smiling at me, calling me “Dada” in his sweet, baby voice. I had held both their hands and promised them a happy future. Back then, Seraphina would blush and lean in to give me a kiss filled with love. All those happy moments were still so vivid. How had everything changed so drastically in just one month? The next day, I got a call from the police. “Mr. Thompson, we’ve apprehended the men who assaulted your son.” My heart leaped. I rushed to the station. The men who had beaten Noah were there, but the real culprits, the ones who gave the order—Seraphina and Julian—were nowhere to be seen. A wave of pure fury washed over me. I lunged forward and grabbed one of them, a punk with bleached hair, by the collar. “Where is Seraphina?! Where is Julian?! Why aren’t they here?!” The punk’s eyes, wide with a mixture of mockery and malice, met mine. He feigned a plea. “Hey man, I didn’t mean to kill your kid! I swear, I thought it was a vicious dog that had been biting people in the neighborhood!” I knew then. They were here to take the fall. All the blood rushed to my head. I swung my fist, smashing it into the man’s face. “Mr. Thompson, calm down! This is a police station!” officers shouted, pulling me away. As I struggled, unable to move, I saw the men exchange subtle, triumphant smirks. No matter how many times I insisted to the police that there were others behind this, after a brief investigation, they were let off with a slap on the wrist. The case was closed with insufficient evidence to prosecute the masterminds. Only the hired thugs were arrested. The evidence all pointed to the bloody weapon, but the hand that wielded it remained hidden in the shadows. In that moment, I understood. With enough money, facts could be twisted. The truth could be buried. All the strength drained out of me. When I returned to the funeral home, an attendant asked me when I wanted to schedule Noah’s cremation. A few days later, the day of the cremation arrived. The staff at the funeral home, noticing how my hair had turned gray in just a few days, approached me cautiously. “Sir, do you need to keep the child’s body for evidence?” I shook my head. I didn’t want Noah to suffer any longer in this world. I leaned over the small, refrigerated casket, my tears falling freely as I said my final goodbye. Noah, next time, make sure you’re born into the right family. Grow up happy, without a care in the world. “You can proceed with the cremation now.” It was over quickly. I had braced myself for this moment, but when I saw the small urn, my eyes burned with fresh tears. Just as I was about to leave, a group of people blocked my path. Julian let out a low whistle. He turned to Seraphina, who was standing beside him with a furious expression, and said provocatively, “Well, look at Leo. He’s really committed to the part. He even came to the crematorium for the full effect!” His words were gasoline on the fire of her anger. Without a word, she strode forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Leo, I am so disappointed in you! You’d go to these lengths just for attention?” “I’m asking you, where have you been hiding Noah all this time?!” My vision swam with red. I clutched Noah’s urn to my chest, a twisted, venomous hatred rising within me. I wondered what her reaction would be when she finally found out it was Noah who had died. Sensing the explosive tension, Julian stepped between us, playing the part of the peacemaker. “Seraphina, don’t be so hard on Leo. Anyone with a billionaire wife would feel insecure. Let me talk to him.” I didn’t know what he was planning, but I watched him warily as he approached. When he reached me, his benevolent mask dropped, replaced by a look of pure malice. He leaned in, his voice a low, venomous whisper. “Do you know why Seraphina still thinks it was a dog?” He slung an arm around my neck, pulling out his phone and playing a silent video. On the screen, my dog, Buddy, was tied down, whining pitifully. A figure entered the frame, gave Buddy an injection, and then, as the dog went limp, stuffed him into a burlap sack. A sack identical to the one they had used for Noah. The devil’s whisper continued in my ear. “You see? A little sedative, and what’s the difference between a man and a dog?” “You and that bastard child should never have existed. You never deserved the life you were given.” Seeing the utter madness in my eyes, Julian’s lips curled into a smirk. He added one final, brutal blow. “Oh, and by the way… your dog was delicious.” All the rage, all the hatred, all the grief in my soul erupted in that single moment. I spun around, grabbing him by the collar and driving my fist into his face. Julian cried out, clutching his cheek while shouting for all to hear, “I was just telling you not to be greedy for Seraphina’s money, to love her properly! Why are you hitting me?!” “I told you I was willing to leave, to stop bothering you!” I couldn’t even see his disgusting, deceitful face anymore. I was running on pure, primal instinct, my eyes blazing as I hit him again and again. Seraphina, momentarily stunned by my terrifying, feral state, snapped out of it and ordered her bodyguards to pull me off him. She walked over to me, her eyes filled with profound disappointment. “Leo, what have you become? A greedy, unrepentant liar who takes his anger out on others! It seems you need to be taught a lesson.” She gestured to her bodyguards, and their fists began to rain down on me. Julian, nursing his bruised face, couldn’t help but smile. “Leo was a soldier, after all,” he remarked casually. “Doesn’t look like this is affecting him much.” Seraphina frowned at his words, then barked at her men, “Haven’t you eaten?! Put some effort into it!” As they beat me, her eyes fell on the urn I was desperately trying to protect. Her gaze sharpened. She strode forward, kicked me over, and before I could react, brought her foot down hard. “NO!” I couldn’t stop her. I could only watch as Noah’s ashes scattered across the floor. I scrambled forward, my hands trembling as I tried to gather what was left of my son. Seeing my wretched state, Seraphina just shook her head. “Utterly hopeless.” That evening, I returned home, clutching the box containing the ashes I had managed to collect, intending to pack away Noah’s things. When I opened the door, I found Seraphina sitting on the sofa, apparently waiting for me. A flicker of relief, one she herself didn’t seem to notice, crossed her face when she saw me. But when her gaze landed on the small box in my hands, her expression hardened with impatience. “Stop the act, Leo. I’m not buying it.” At this point, I was beyond grief, beyond caring whether she was truly ignorant or just pretending. I asked flatly, “What do you want?” My lifeless tone seemed to infuriate her. “It was just a dog! Are you ever going to get over it? I’ll buy you a better one, will that make you happy?” She stood up and pulled a document from the sofa cushions, holding it out to me with an air of condescending charity. “Take a look at this. If there are no issues, sign it.” I stared at the papers. It was a prenuptial agreement. “What is this? We’re already married. What’s the point of signing this now?” My question seemed to confirm her suspicions. This man was only after her money. The thought deepened her frustration and disgust. “Let me be honest with you. The marriage certificate we got… it was a fake.” “And lately, I’ve been very disappointed in your performance. If you sign this, I’ll consider getting a real marriage certificate with you.” So, it was all a lie from the very beginning. From day one, Seraphina had been guarding her fortune from me. I remembered carrying her, wounded, across a battlefield. I remembered her blushing as she asked me to be her boyfriend. It was all a joke. A pathetic, cruel joke. A laugh bubbled up from my chest, raw and hysterical. “Hahahahaha! Fine. I’ll sign.” Seeing me sign so readily, a strange feeling stirred within Seraphina. Could she have been wrong about him? She thought back over the past three years—his unwavering care, his tenderness. She remembered the man who had carried her through a field of death and chaos… The love, the connection she had felt—that wasn’t fake. A wave of regret washed over her. “Leo,” she began, her voice softening, “don’t be so stubborn. I just needed proof that you truly love me. If you just admit you were wrong, we can go back to how things were…” She put the document away, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. I looked at her, my face a mask of scorn. “There’s no need, Ms. Sterling.” “You have what you wanted. You can go now. I’d like to be alone.” She had never been treated with such coldness by me. Her face fell. “Have it your way,” she snapped, turning and storming out. I quietly packed up my things, and Noah’s. Then, with my son’s ashes, I headed back to the war. A week later, in the penthouse office of Sterling Industries. Seraphina held a glass of freshly imported red wine, looking down at the city lights twinkling below. Leo hadn’t contacted her since that day. Even though Julian had been taking her on trips, trying to make up for lost time, a persistent shadow of unease loomed over her. It’s been a while now. He must have realized his mistake, right? She picked up her phone, but as her finger hovered over Leo’s number, she remembered Julian’s words: “Seraphina, you deserve to be worshiped. If you give in once, you’ll have to do it again and again.” She snapped her phone shut. She wasn’t going to spoil Leo. But… it had been so long. Surely, as a mother, she should at least check on her child? With that excuse, she happily opened her phone again and, with a feigned air of reluctance, called the daycare. When the teacher answered, Seraphina asked, a little awkwardly, “Hello, I was just calling to see how Noah has been doing these past few days. His father and I have been fighting… it hasn’t affected him, has it?” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, the teacher’s hesitant voice came through. “Mrs. Sterling… Noah passed away several weeks ago…” The sound of shattering glass echoed in the silent room.

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The day Adrian Cavagin proposed to me, marking twelve years together, was the day he confessed to cheating. Just like that. No warning. “Marry me or leave me. The choice is yours.” He casually flicked a petal from the bouquet of roses I was holding. He told me he’d gone on a little date with the new intern at his company, right before coming to propose. “The florist said ninety-nine roses for a proposal. Not one less. It’s meant to symbolize forever,” he said, a faint smile on his lips. “But the girl said she liked them, so I gave one to her. Didn’t even think twice.” The tears of joy from his proposal were still wet on my cheeks. I stared at him, my mind refusing to process his words. “You like her that much?” He shook his head, his gaze light and airy as it drifted over my face. “Eh, it was what it was. I just suddenly realized… that’s all I feel for you, too. Just… what it is. Trying something new now and then, it’s refreshing.” He shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “But we’ve been together for so long. It’s a habit. So, really, it’s up to you.” I stood frozen. Suddenly, the ninety-eight roses in my arms felt heavier than lead, crushing the air from my lungs. … Adrian lit a cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke directly into my face. “Even last month, when you called me from the hospital after your ulcer surgery, I was with her. We were skiing in Iceland.” His voice was conversational. “Extreme sports… I’m getting too old for them. But when she grabbed my hand, squealing with excitement… it felt new.” I stared at him, numb. I remembered last month. Years of entertaining clients with him at lavish dinners had finally caught up to me, the gastritis flaring into a bleeding ulcer that landed me in the ER. I called him, my voice weak and hazy with pain. He’d sounded groggy, mumbling something about a difficult client. Not wanting to worry him, I swallowed the tremor in my voice and told him I was fine, just to take care of himself, to get some rest. He paused now, taking another drag from his cigarette. “I knew something was wrong. I could hear it in your voice. I hesitated, but… she can be very persuasive.” Silence stretched between us. He tapped the ash from his cigarette onto the polished floor. “If you want to break up, you can have five of the nine properties.” His tone was flat, business-like. “The company shares are off the table, but I won’t short you on the money. Or we can get married. You’ll always be Mrs. Cavagin.” Thirty minutes ago, surrounded by a sea of roses and the soft flicker of candlelight, with him on one knee and a universe of promise in his eyes, I thought I was the happiest woman in the world. A tear hit the floor with a soft splash. I looked at him, lost. “Why? Why today of all days?” Adrian sighed, reaching out as if to wipe my tears. “I didn’t want to. But I’m tired of lying to you, Clara. We’re not even thirty. The thought of being tied down for the rest of our lives… it’s terrifying.” I slapped his hand away, a raw scream tearing from my throat as I began to destroy everything. The vases of roses, the carefully arranged candles, the whole picture-perfect scene—I smashed it all to pieces. “Don’t you come near me!” The thorny stems of the roses scratched my hands, drawing blood. His expression hardened, and he grabbed my wrist. “Don’t be like this. I gave you a choice. I’m not forcing you to accept—” I recoiled, my entire body trembling. “Don’t touch me! Please… just let me think!” He shoved me away in frustration and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. “Fine. Think all you want.” I collapsed to the floor, a long, bloody gash marking my leg where a rose stem had caught me. The reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window stared back at me: a wild-haired, mascara-streaked monster. A madwoman. I don’t remember how I got home. It was the middle of July, but I was so cold my teeth were chattering. After swallowing a handful of pills from a bottle, I fell into a dream of the past, of a time when Adrian and I were just two unwanted kids in an orphanage. The director was trying to sell me to a crippled old man. Adrian grabbed my hand and we ran. “If you care so much, why don’t you take care of her for the rest of your life?” the director had shrieked after us. The boy turned back, his eyes burning bright. “I will! I damn well will!” He worked under the table, entertained sleazy businessmen, and clawed his way up from nothing. Life bore down on his spine until it groaned with the strain, leaving him with a body full of stress-related ailments, but he always, always took care of me. The night I graduated, he nearly drank himself into a hospital bed at a business dinner. But he still showed up late at night with a bouquet of flowers, asking if he had made me happy. I’d nodded through my tears, and he held me so tight I could barely breathe. “I will love you, Clara. I’ll always make you happy.” It was a beautiful dream, shattered by the violent buzzing of my phone. News alerts were flooding my screen. Tech Mogul Adrian Cavagin in Fender Bender with Mystery Woman. In the accompanying video, he was smiling, handing a business card to the paparazzi. “You want a statement? Call my fiancée.” My phone exploded with calls from reporters. My hands shook as I dialed Adrian’s number, demanding an explanation. His voice was lazy, unconcerned. “Clara, if we’re going to be married, this is part of the package. Welcome to the big leagues. You need to learn how to handle these things.” The vultures were already circling our house. I slammed my foot on the gas, peeling out of the driveway. I remembered three years ago, when the paparazzi had surrounded us for the first time. Adrian was just starting to make a name for himself, and an old-money tycoon wanted him for a son-in-law. It was a shortcut to the top. But Adrian, facing the threat of being blacklisted, had refused. He smiled for the cameras, his arm wrapped gently around me. “Everything I have, I owe to the woman I love. Without her, what’s the point of all this fame and fortune?” Everyone had wondered what our fairytale romance was really like. Three years. It felt like a lifetime ago. The moment I stormed into his office building and saw the looks of pity and sympathy on his employees’ faces, I knew. I shoved open the door to his office. The scene inside ripped through my rage and left only a shard of ice in its place. The choice Adrian had given me suddenly had its answer. The faint, sour smell of sex hung in the air. Used condoms were scattered on the floor. A framed photo of us from years ago was lying face down on his desk. On the glass over my smiling face, a clear handprint. I leaned against the wall, dry-heaving until my stomach cramped. The girl on the couch dressed herself with unhurried grace. “So this is the wife. She’s not much to look at, is she?” Adrian’s gaze was heavy on me. “Get out. For now.” The girl pouted. “But you said we could continue…” His jaw tightened with impatience. “Just listen. We’ll talk tonight.” She smirked, deliberately pulling a pair of lace panties from his pants pocket and dangling them in my direction. “Fine. I’ll be waiting. We still have that new move to try, remember?” She sashayed out. Adrian offered no explanation. He just poured me a glass of water and gently patted my back. “You did well just now. Didn’t make a scene.” His tone was calm, almost approving. “Does this mean you’ve made up your mind? Starting to act like a proper wife.” The glass shattered in my hand. I started to laugh, a broken, hollow sound. “Adrian, I choose neither.” I made a scene. A huge one. I demanded he fire his new “assistant.” He looked at my tear-streaked, bloodshot eyes and soothed me with gentle words. “She’s just an assistant. It’s done. Don’t ruin your health over it.” Maybe it was pride, maybe it was resentment, or maybe I just couldn’t let go. I clung to our rotting relationship, believing that as long as I held on tight, we could go back to the way things were. On our anniversary, I cooked a feast, a desperate attempt to mend the chasm between us. But what I got instead were photos of him in bed with the latest influencer, spreading like wildfire through our social circle. I flipped the table, sending food and porcelain crashing to the floor. I went to the media. I went to his business partners. I tried to teach him a lesson. But reality taught me one instead. With a single phone call from Adrian, the media wouldn’t touch the story. Instead, they painted me as a paranoid, jealous shrew. He even put out a word to his contacts to throw more advertising deals the influencer’s way, offering to negotiate his own partnership costs to make it happen. I became the laughingstock of the city. He didn’t even like her that much. It was just a lesson, a way to force me to accept my new reality. “Clara,” he said, his voice patient, as if explaining something to a child. “You didn’t like the last one, so I got rid of her. This new one… she’s a bit more tenacious, but I can get rid of her too. But you have to tell me, when does it end?” He rubbed his temples. “We have twenty years between us. I’m willing to be patient with you. This time, let me teach you how it’s done.” He transferred the deed of the first apartment we ever bought to the influencer. The year he started his company, we were broke, living in a cramped, fifteen-square-meter basement apartment. The window was drafty, and in the winter, it was like living in an icebox. I remember being delirious with fever on our lumpy, second-hand mattress. He just held me, his own body shivering. The moment his business took off, he spent every penny we had on that apartment. His eyes were red with emotion that day. “Clara,” he had said, his voice thick. “I can finally give you a home.” Two flightless birds, abandoned by their parents, finally had a nest. I cried until I had no dignity left, but the apartment was still gone. The influencer was replaced by a starlet, the starlet by a fresh-faced model. One time, I came home from a physical therapy appointment to find him with someone in our bed. That’s when I started to unravel. Every time I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the jeering faces of the world. Your father didn’t want you, your mother didn’t want you, and now Adrian doesn’t want you either. I didn’t know what I was trying to hold onto anymore. I put cameras in our cars, in our rooms. I stalked him, hiding in places I thought he might appear. I took pictures of his affairs, one after another. And what did I get for it? A restraining order. Adrian filed for a protection order against me. The police got involved. I was forced to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. The night I was released, I mechanically dialed his number over and over. A woman finally answered, her voice laced with a post-coital breathlessness. “Looking for Adrian? He’s a little… busy right now.” The pain was a physical thing, a blade twisting in my chest. I found a knife and held it to my heart. Our housekeeper found me and called Adrian. He looked at me with a complicated expression, a long sigh escaping his lips. “Okay, maybe I’ve taken things too far these last few days. I gave you a choice, Clara. If you can’t take it, you can leave. I never wanted to hurt you.” Back in college, Adrian had to support us both. He worked multiple jobs, living on two bread rolls a day just so he could pay my tuition. The severe malnutrition landed him in the hospital. I remember tracing his sharp, protruding ribs, begging him through my tears to just leave me, to save himself. It was the first time he ever got angry with me. “Clara Reed, we’ve been together since we were seven years old. If you tell me to leave, I won’t survive.” I clutched my chest now, my mind a blank. “Adrian… why doesn’t it hurt you?” His face darkened. “Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t easy for anyone.” The knife incident made him back off for a while. I spent my days in a daze, watching him, not knowing what I was thinking or feeling. But one scar wasn’t enough to chain him down. He found a new girl. This one was different. She was timid and mousy, with dark, sallow skin. The moment she saw me, she would tremble and apologize. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I really didn’t know.” She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. For the first time, Adrian stood between me and one of his women, his eyes dark with a silent threat. “Nina doesn’t know anything. I’m the one who lied to her. Clara, you can throw whatever tantrums you want, but if you touch her, all our previous agreements are off the table.” Nina really was different. Adrian, who was allergic to dogs, got a Pomeranian for her. He would come home on time every single day to walk it with her, his face covered in red, itchy blotches. For her birthday, he bought an entire amusement park. I doubled over, a sudden, sharp pain stealing my breath. My eighteenth birthday. Adrian had scraped together every penny he had to give me a proper coming-of-age gift. I chose a run-down, nearly abandoned amusement park. I told him it was more than enough. The rides were old and creaky. We rode the roller coaster and the carousel, and the whole day cost less than five dollars. I had the time of my life. I remember seeing Adrian watch me, his eyes red. On the way home, he squeezed my hand. He promised that one day, he would take me to the biggest amusement park in the world. He would buy one just for me. Later, when we finally had money, I mentioned going to Disneyland. He was always too busy. I understood. I knew how hard he worked. Eventually, I forgot about it myself. But he hadn’t forgotten. He had just given his promise to someone else. The final straw was the ring he gave Nina. It was a custom design, intricately engraved with her name. Not like the one he’d given me, a generic, tacky thing he’d picked up on a whim. He slipped the ring on her finger. His smile was genuine. “I want to make you happy for the rest of your life.” Nina blushed, a shy dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth. I looked in a mirror and finally understood why she looked so familiar. She looked just like me, when I was young. That realization shattered the last piece of me. I stormed into the amusement park and, in a hysterical rage, I scratched their faces, my nails digging into their skin. “If you don’t love me anymore, why did you fall in love with a copy of my face?” Adrian had his bodyguards drag me away. “She’s insane! Get a psychiatrist to the house!” That night, I smashed every mirror in the house. I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t accept it.

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On my way to a photoshoot for the richest man in the city’s pregnant wife, I stumbled upon a viral post. Title: How did you, a woman from a humble background, become the main character of your own life and climb the social ladder? The top-voted answer sent a chill down my spine. “A good man doesn’t just fall into your lap. You have to fight for him.” “I’m a wedding photographer. The groom-to-be, the wealthiest man in the city, was once my client. His frumpy ex-girlfriend didn’t deserve him. You have to be ruthless to get ahead. I orchestrated her miscarriage and made sure she lost the use of one of her legs. That’s what it took to get rid of her for good. Now, I’m finally pregnant with a boy, and in three days, I’m marrying into high society.” My fingers traced the scar on my abdomen. The rideshare pulled up to the villa. Finally. One word, casually dismissing the hell I had endured for three years. I looked up, and there she was—the author of the post, draped in a couture maternity dress. Her eyes, filled with a sickening pity, were fixed on my crippled leg. “I can’t believe you’re still alive,” she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “And in such a pathetic state. Name your price. I’ll write you a check.” 1 Before I could answer, my ex-fiancé, Paul Hindle, stepped out from behind her. “Ava and I are getting married soon,” he said, his tone condescending. “Helping you out would be good karma. Just give us a number. As long as it’s not too outrageous, we’ll take care of it. After all, you did help me when I was struggling. I haven’t forgotten. As a thank you, you can come work for us as a housekeeper after the wedding. It’ll be easier than dragging that leg of yours all over the city for work.” Paul’s words ignited a fire in my best friend, who was helping me with my equipment. She stepped in front of me, her voice sharp with fury. “Have you no shame, Paul? You’re a leech who got his start thanks to Maya. You have no right to act like you’re doing her a favor! Does your housekeeper’s monthly salary even cover one of Maya’s photoshoots? You specifically requested the best photographer in the city, and this is how you treat her? We don’t need your charity.” The bodyguards standing nearby blanched. I remained silent. My friend had spoken the words straight from my heart. If it weren’t for the pressure from Paul’s family, I would have never agreed to this. This was all a humiliating setup by Ava, designed to provoke me into walking away. And I was more than happy to oblige. But Paul, surprisingly, didn’t get angry. He just frowned, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “What are you talking about? What happened back then? When have I ever done anything to wrong Maya?” He looked genuinely baffled. I realized in that moment that he was clueless about what had really happened. But what did it matter? His concern, three years too late, was worthless. Paul started to press for an answer, but a delicate hand tugged at his sleeve. I glanced at my own atrophied leg, then at Ava’s perfectly manicured hands. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. “Paul, darling,” she cooed, “I heard the top photographer in the city is Mrs. Sterling, the wife of CEO Sterling. Making a connection with her would be a huge boost for your career. But this woman… she’s ruined our chance! She’s an imposter. What if Mr. Sterling gets angry with you?” She turned her venomous gaze on me. “She left you for money three years ago without a word of explanation. Now that her life is a mess, she’s back, trying to play the victim.” As she spoke, Ava pinched her own arm, her face instantly turning pale. She clutched her stomach, her voice trembling. “Oh, I think… I think the baby is distressed. If you still have some pity for your old flame, I can wait…” “I was a fool,” Paul said, his voice tight with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have expected anything from her.” He motioned to the bodyguards. “She’s here now. Get her inside and let’s get this over with.” Six or seven burly men pushed us forward. My injured leg buckled, a sharp pain shooting through it. They handled my precious camera equipment with brutal carelessness. Ava, pretending to be too weak to walk, fell behind and whispered in my ear, her voice a venomous hiss only I could hear. “I was lying. Mrs. Sterling is the moon in the sky. You’re just the mud on the ground. I couldn’t get her, of course, but it was easy enough to get you, you pathetic cripple, for a bit of fun. I’m marrying Paul in three days. This is just a warning. Get out of the city, or I’ll make sure you can’t survive here.” Then, she pulled a thin needle from her sleeve and jabbed it into my arm. I cried out and fell to the ground. All I got from Paul was an impatient frown. But they didn’t know. I was the “Mrs. Sterling” they were so desperate to impress. 2 Inside, the torment continued. Ava made me fetch her water, a stainless steel cup filled with boiling water that scalded my hands. She tripped me, then ground her heel into my bad leg. When my friend and I tried to leave, the bodyguards blocked the door with clubs. Paul took our phones and locked them in his safe. “A maternity shoot is a once-in-a-lifetime moment,” he said. “I can’t have you distracted.” The fact that he was so paranoid, in this house he had once given me, all for a photoshoot, made me sick to my stomach. This villa had been my engagement present from him. That safe had once held our wedding rings. In college, he was the poor boy, and I was the poor girl. Paul would skip meals to buy me a single flower. He’d work all summer to buy me a new phone. He was handsome, and so gentle with me. My father was a violent, gambling addict. My mother, broken by his abuse, had lost her mind. The first twenty years of my life were a canvas of gray. Paul was the only splash of color. He brought me sweet tea when I had my period, and was a solid shoulder to cry on when the world was too much. I, starved for affection, fell for his persistent advances. I thought I had found my happily ever after. After graduation, I got a job at a photo studio. Paul started his own business. He was good to me, and I was good to him. When his company was struggling, I gave him my entire salary, leaving myself with just enough for cheap meals. When he couldn’t find investors, I gave him my life’s savings to keep his dream alive. After landing his first big contract, Paul proposed. He put the deed to this villa and a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg in my hand. I said yes. I knew my dysfunctional family would be a problem for him. I had my mother admitted to a psychiatric hospital and was gathering evidence to put my father in prison. I was doing everything I could to build a future for us. I gave him everything. Then I found out I was pregnant. But Paul was getting busier. He stopped coming home, stopped answering my texts. I never even had the chance to tell him the good news. Every complaint I voiced was dismissed as nagging. We went for our wedding photoshoot and met Ava, a photographer at another studio. The way she looked at my fiancé made my skin crawl. But Paul, ever the gentleman, was oblivious. He was as kind and polite to her as he was to everyone. Years of being neglected had made me sensitive. Five years of love had made me believe I had the right to be demanding. I threw a tantrum, picking a wedding dress without any care. “Sir,” Ava had said to Paul, her voice dripping with faux concern, “your fiancée seems so careless about her dress. Are you sure she loves you? You’re a successful man. You could have anyone. Why settle for someone who doesn’t appreciate you?” I waited for Paul to defend me. He didn’t. His silence was the last straw. “Paul,” I said, my voice shaking, “let’s call off the wedding. I don’t want to do this anymore.” He panicked, but before he could apologize, Ava stepped in. “I don’t think you did anything wrong, sir. Your fiancée is being disrespectful and petty. A woman like that needs to be taught a lesson before she can appreciate a good man like you.” From that day on, we were locked in a cold war. He tried to apologize at first, but every time, a phone call would interrupt him. I peeked at his phone once. It was always Ava. Eventually, he stopped trying. Ava found more and more excuses to see him. Dinners, business trips. Before I could even process my heartbreak, my father called. He threatened to hang himself and my mother if I didn’t pay off his gambling debts. He sent me a video of my mother gasping for air. I pretended to agree, telling him I would get the money from Paul after we were married. I begged Paul to help me rescue my mother. He came out of a spa, looking annoyed. He put on his headphones and drove, his face growing darker and darker. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes on the side of the highway and kicked me out of the car. “Maya! Were you only with me for my money? Was our entire relationship a lie?” His roar of betrayal made no sense. I had loved him with everything I had. What more did he want? The cold rain and mud brought me back to reality. I tried to argue, but he slammed the door and drove off. All the color he had brought into my life turned back to gray. That night, abandoned on the highway, I was hit by a car. My leg was crushed. I was thrown over the side of a cliff. My mother, tormented by my father, took her own life. In the agony of it all, I miscarried. I lost the ability to ever have children. In the hospital, alone and broken, I called Paul, crying. In the long hours of waiting for him to pick up, I had already forgiven him. I just wanted a shoulder to lean on. But Ava answered the phone. “Maya, what do you have that I don’t?” I heard a drunken slur in the background. It was Paul. “She only loves my money, not me. Why should I care about her? She can go die for all I care. I can find any woman I want. You’re the only one who understands me, Ava.” 3 His words echoed in my mind, a cruel ghost in the present. But now, I no longer wasted my sorrow on a man who wasn’t worth it. After the shoot, I packed up my equipment and grabbed my friend’s arm, ready to leave. But Paul blocked our path. He shoved a wad of cash and a wedding invitation into my pocket, his face a mixture of pity and annoyance. “I’ll say this one last time,” I said, cutting him off. “I wouldn’t have come here if I had a choice. This was a job. We have no reason to see each other again. I don’t owe you anything. You were the one who neglected our relationship, who cheated. I have a husband and a family now. Please, leave us alone.” My husband, Leo’s, work was classified. To protect him, I had never revealed my identity as his wife. But that didn’t mean I would let myself be bullied. I tore the cash into tiny pieces, my eyes locked on his livid face. As I got into the car, Ava leaned in. “Do you want to know why Paul really left you on the highway? Your father sold me your call logs. I played them for Paul. A little creative editing, you know. If he really loved you, would he have believed it so easily? The driver who hit you? I hired him. And your baby… you could have saved it. I just paid the doctor to make sure you didn’t.” Her voice was triumphant, cruel. The truth, finally laid bare. It hurt, but I wasn’t angry. I almost wanted to laugh. All my rage and tears had been spent five years ago. I had Leo now, a man I could trust with my life. He had healed the wounds Paul had left. Whether it was Ava or Paul who had destroyed me, it didn’t matter. I had moved on. I would never forgive them. But if what Ava said was true, the one who would live with regret was Paul. “Not angry? Let’s see how long you can keep up this facade,” she sneered. Before I could process her words, my phone rang. It was the pet sitter. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. After the accident, the miscarriage, I had left the hospital in a wheelchair. The sky above was filled with drones, spelling out Paul’s love for Ava. I clutched the ugly scar on my stomach, grieving for myself, for my lost child. A stray cat had jumped into my lap, pulling me back from the edge of suicide. I saw him as the reincarnation of my child, a symbol of my farewell to a painful past. Ava was still on the phone, her voice a gleeful purr. “Miss Reed, your cat was just stolen. Beaten to death on the side of the road.” They had killed my child again. I rushed to the pet store, my friend trying to comfort me. Ava’s post was gaining more traction. To justify her affair, she had released more “evidence,” all of it twisted and taken out of context. The frumpy ex-girlfriend’s father was an abuser. She inherited his violent streak. She drove her own mother to suicide and abuses animals. She was controlling and violent towards my fiancé. I was saving him from a toxic relationship. She’s also a photographer. Her early work is full of plagiarism. My friend tried to take my phone, but I saw the comments. The tide had turned against me. I held my cat’s bloody, broken body, the hateful comments scrolling on my screen. They cheered for Paul and Ava, a “true love story.” They wished me a painful death. Someone in the crowd shouted, “Hey, she’s a photographer, she’s a cripple, and she’s holding a dead cat! Isn’t that the abusive bitch from the viral post?” A mob surrounded me, their faces twisted with scorn. I tried to explain, but the blood on my hands condemned me. My friend tried to get the pet store owner to tell the truth, but he just mouthed “I’m sorry” and then shouted, “I saw it! She beat her own cat to death!” People started throwing their drinks at me, my expensive camera equipment was smashed to pieces in the name of “animal justice.” They tried to take my cat’s body from me. I fought to protect his remains, my heart breaking all over again. I knew this was all Ava’s doing. The phone rang again. One call from her, one from him. “How does it feel? Still think you can act all high and mighty?” “If you don’t get out of the city, away from my husband, I will destroy you, piece by piece.” “Maya, did you get the wedding invitation? You’d better be there. It would be unwise not to.” “All the city’s elite will be there, including CEO Sterling. You love money, don’t you? Find a rich man to sleep with. You’ll be set for life.” They called themselves inspiring, kind. But they were just using me as fuel for their own happiness. The blood on my hands grew cold. My cat’s body was stiff. I had had enough. “Release it,” I told my friend, my voice eerily calm. “Everything you’ve compiled. The evidence of Ava’s crimes, my medical records from back then. Release it all as a response to her lies.” Then, I dialed the emergency number Leo had given me. Some men are swayed by a third party’s whispers. Others will walk through fire to save you. “Honey, who hurt you? I’ll kill them.”

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At my birthday party, my parents presented me with their gift. A DNA test. One that said I wasn’t their biological daughter. My mother’s smile was glacial. “Sharon, since you’re not our real daughter, it’s time you paid us back for the cost of raising you for seventeen years.” My father scoffed. “No wonder you don’t look a thing like me. You’ve been mooching off the Prescott family name for far too long. Starting today, you’re the help. We’ll pay you five hundred dollars a month to work off your debt. Room and board not included.” I didn’t cry or protest. I just nodded calmly. After all, just last night, I’d been standing outside their door and heard everything. I heard my sister, Cecilia, cooing as she clung to their arms. “Mommy, Daddy, my only birthday wish is to be your one and only daughter, to have all of your love, just for me. So, can you make my sister be our maid for a year? Please?” My father’s face had melted with affection. “Of course. Anything for you.” My mother had smiled and added, “For this whole year, Mommy and Daddy belong only to our precious Ceci.” I had leaned against the wall, my eyes stinging with a sharp, hot ache. They had forgotten. Cecilia and I are twins. We have the same birthday. And my birthday wish? To leave the Prescott house. Not for a year—forever. 1 Cecilia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock horror. “Sharon! No wonder you’re so plain, you don’t look like Mom or Dad at all. So you really are an impostor.” Her voice was loud, her performance theatrical. It was as if she’d completely forgotten we were twins, that anyone with eyes could see the resemblance. “Oh, wait, you’re not my sister at all. You’re just some stray they picked up off the street.” My mother’s expression was distant, cold. “Sharon, now that the truth is out, you’re not a Prescott. This party is for our darling daughter, Cecilia. You have no right to be here.” I glanced up at Cecilia, her face glowing with triumph. She wore a custom-made princess gown, and on her head sat a tiara that cost as much as a house. Then I looked down at myself. My faded shirt and worn-out jeans, the cuffs frayed. A bitter smile touched my lips. The right to be here. I’d never really had it. How can you lose something you never possessed? My father’s voice boomed. “Starting today, you’ll move into the servant’s quarters. Consider it a final kindness. Until you find your real parents, you can work here as a maid. I’ll pay you five hundred a month, no room and board, to pay back the seventeen years of expenses you’ve cost us.” Whispers rippled through the crowd. I was a pathetic clown on display, trapped under a sea of mocking, scornful eyes. I bent down to pick up my backpack. In a flash, Cecilia lunged forward and yanked it from my grasp. The safety pin holding my broken zipper together popped, and the contents of my bag spilled across the floor. “Aha!” Cecilia shrieked. “I knew it! You’ve been stealing from us!” Amidst the scattered books lay a single, pink-wrapped sanitary pad. Mom looked away, a flicker of discomfort on her face. “Ceci, let it go. It’s just a pad.” Cecilia stamped her foot. “No, Mom! I’m the only daughter now. Who the hell is she, anyway? She’s been freeloading off us for years, and now she’s stealing? I say she doesn’t deserve it, and that’s final.” Seeing her daughter upset, my mother immediately softened. “Okay, okay, darling, don’t be angry. You’re right. You’re my only precious girl now. You can do whatever you want.” Satisfied, Cecilia ground her heel into the pad, twisting it into the polished floor. “There. I don’t want it anymore. You can have it.” I stared at the pad, now smeared with dirt and a footprint, and my throat felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton, heavy and suffocating. In the end, I bent down and gathered only my books. After the party, Maria, the housekeeper, led me to the storage room. It was a tiny space, maybe fifty square feet, containing nothing but a wooden plank bed piled with junk and a single, rusty window. Maria stood at the door, hesitating. “Miss… Sharon. Mr. and Mrs. Prescott… they remember the good things. Once they come to their senses, you’ll be Miss Prescott again…” Before she could finish, two cockroaches scurried out from a corner and vanished. I pretended not to see the embarrassment on her face. “Thank you, I understand.” Maria shook her head and left, muttering under her breath. “They look so much alike. How could she not be theirs? So strange…” I sat on the plank bed, staring blankly out the window into the pitch-black night. It’s okay. Just one more year, and I can leave this place for good. Later that night, a dull ache throbbed in my lower abdomen. Without any pads, I had to make do with wadded-up toilet paper. As I was leaving the bathroom, I heard my parents’ hushed voices. “Honey, do you think we’re being too hard on Sharon? What if she starts to hate us? She is our daughter, after all.” My father snorted. “She’s always bullying Ceci. As the older sister, she should know better. A little hardship will do her good.” “And once Ceci has had her fun this year, we’ll just find an excuse. Say the DNA lab made a mistake. She’ll be so thrilled to be a Prescott again, she won’t even remember this.” My fingertips went ice-cold. The thought was so absurd it was almost funny. What gave them the right to think they could grind me into dust and I’d just obediently wait for them to pick me back up? 2 The next day, I went out to buy pads. At the register, the card was declined. Insufficient funds. But I knew I had two hundred dollars saved on it. When I got back to the villa and pushed open the door, I found the three of them at the dining table, laughing together. A gift bag sat on the table. My mother was stroking a silk scarf, her touch full of affection. “Oh, Ceci, you’re such a sweetheart. You even buy your mother gifts. This makes me so happy.” My father turned a plastic travel mug over in his hands, grinning from ear to ear. “I love mine too. That’s my girl.” Cecilia pouted, leaning against my mother’s shoulder. “But they only cost two hundred dollars. You’re not mad they’re so cheap, are you?” My mother shook her head instantly. “Of course not, darling. Anything from you is a treasure, even if it only cost two dollars.” My father chimed in, using the opportunity to belittle me. “Exactly. Not like your sister. All she does is spend our money. Never bought us a single thing. Such an ungrateful brat. She could never compare to my Ceci…” They noticed me standing there and fell silent. Cecilia tilted her head, a malicious grin spreading across her face. That two hundred dollars… It was my allowance for the past two months. It was all the money I had in the world. A chill washed over me. Something inside my head snapped with a deafening crack. The next thing I knew, I had grabbed Cecilia, my hand raised to strike. But before my palm could connect, my father sent me flying with a vicious kick. My spine slammed into the sharp corner of the coffee table. The pain was so intense that my vision went black for a second. Cecilia held up her arm, which had a faint red mark on it, and started wailing as if the world were ending. “Daddy, Mommy, it hurts so much! I think my arm is broken!” My mother screamed, “Quick, call an ambulance!” “No time for an ambulance!” my father shot back. “I’ll drive her to the hospital myself.” Cecilia pointed a trembling finger at me, still crumpled on the floor. “I don’t want to go in the car! That stray hurt me. I want her to carry me to the hospital. On her back.” The nearest hospital was twelve miles away. My mother’s eyes, now fixed on me, were chips of ice. “You’re a nobody with no parents. We fed you and clothed you for seventeen years, and this is how you repay us? You dare to touch my daughter? You’ll do as Ceci says.” When I struggled to get up, my father hauled me to my feet. “Stop faking it. It was just a little bump. Now get Cecilia on your back and get going. If her injury gets any worse, I swear I’ll throw you out of this house for good.” I believed him. But I couldn’t leave. Not yet. So I hoisted Cecilia onto my back and began the staggering walk to the hospital. My father drove slowly behind us, the car crawling along the pavement. He kept shouting, “Sharon, hold her steady! If you dare drop my precious daughter, I’ll skin you alive!” My mother complained from the passenger seat, “Walk faster! Haven’t you eaten? Don’t you dare let my baby’s injury get worse.” Cecilia, draped over my back, whispered gleefully in my ear. “See? No one in this family loves you. You’re just an unwanted leech.” Words like that used to cut me to the bone. But now, I think I’d accumulated so much pain that I was just… numb. When she got no reaction from me, Cecilia fell silent. But just as we were nearing the hospital, I felt a sharp, piercing pain in my back. She had plunged a safety pin, hidden in her pocket, deep into my flesh. I cried out, stumbling forward, and we both crashed to the ground. My parents slammed the car to a halt on the side of the road. They scrambled out, lifted Cecilia from on top of me, and rushed her into the emergency room without a backward glance. My mother, trailing behind, looked over her shoulder at my ashen face. “We’re already at the hospital,” she snapped impatiently. “Find a doctor yourself if you need one. We don’t have time for you.” In the end, I didn’t go inside. I had no money. Too exhausted to walk back, I just sat on the hospital steps until night fell, then finally made my way back to the villa. They were already home. And standing with them in the living room was a haggard-looking couple, their clothes grimy, their posture timid. “You’re just in time,” my father said, gesturing to the pair. “These are your biological parents. You can go with them now.” 3 The silence in the room was absolute. My mother came over and took my hand, though she couldn’t meet my eyes. “Sharon, we were a family once. This is hard for me, too. But now that your real parents have been found, there’s no reason for you to stay at the Prescott house any longer.” I thought I had no tears left to cry. But they streamed down my face anyway. These were the people I had cherished, the people I had placed at the very center of my world for seventeen years. And now, they wouldn’t even grant me a corner of their home to exist in. My tears seemed to make my mother feel guilty. She reached out to wipe them away, but Cecilia caught her arm. “Congratulations, sister,” Cecilia chirped. “You’re not a parentless stray anymore.” The woman standing nearby, the one I was supposed to call my mother, scurried over and grabbed my hand. Her grimy fingernails dug into my skin as she began to wail dramatically. “Oh, my daughter! Mommy’s finally found you! Come home with Mommy, quick!” The man, my supposed father, started dragging me toward the door. “That’s right, let’s go home. We’ve troubled Mr. and Mrs. Prescott for too long. We can’t overstay our welcome.” “Wait,” Cecilia said, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Sister, finding your real parents is a big deal. Don’t you think you should kneel and formally accept them? Or… are you ashamed of them because they’re poor? Do you look down on them?” I froze, turning to my parents. “Is that what you think I should do? Kneel to them?” They both looked away. Cecilia kept prodding. “Go on, kneel! We’re all watching.” I laughed. Something inside me, something I had been holding together for years, shattered into a million pieces. I dropped to my knees, but I faced my parents. I bowed my head to the floor, once, hard. “Our debt as parent and child is settled. From this moment on, I have nothing to do with the Prescott family.” My parents exchanged a look, a flicker of unease in their eyes. But I was already on my feet, turning to leave with my ‘real parents.’ My mother ran after me, her voice a hollow bluff. “It’s not settled! Not until… not until you pay back every penny we spent on you for the last seventeen years!” I stopped but didn’t turn back. “Fine,” I said softly. They thought they had spent a fortune on me. But they forgot. The daughter who was showered with affection, the one who was raised on endless streams of money, was Cecilia. And me? My allowance was three hundred dollars a month. And most of that was extorted by Cecilia, who got thirty thousand a month. If I refused to give it to her, she would run home crying, telling them I was organizing classmates to bully and isolate her. I was locked in my room countless times, denied meals. One night, during a torrential downpour, Cecilia claimed I was driving her to the brink of suicide. They made me stand outside in the rain all night. My fever spiked to 104 degrees, and no one cared. It was always like that, for as long as I could remember. A single word from Cecilia determined my guilt or innocence, my happiness, my life. My dignity. My explanations, my tears, my pain… they were worthless in this house. Just like me. Cheap. That night, I moved into my ‘real parents” apartment in a run-down tenement. There were no spare rooms, no extra blankets. I spent the night curled up on the floor of the only bathroom. The window, patched with newspaper, was cracked and let in a constant, chilling draft. The next day, I woke up dizzy and burning with a high fever. Through a haze of delirium, I heard the woman’s panicked voice on the phone. “Mr. Prescott? Mrs. Prescott? The… the girl, she has a fever! It’s 104!” “Well, what are you waiting for? Take her to a hospital!” The phone was on speaker, and Cecilia’s voice came through, sharp and clear. “Mom, Dad, she just left last night and now she has a fever? That’s too much of a coincidence. It’s obviously a pity play to test you. If you fall for it, you’re playing right into her hands.” A long silence followed. Then, my father’s cold voice cut through the air. “Don’t do anything. She’s the one who said she wants nothing to do with us. Let the ungrateful brat learn her lesson.” My mother’s voice was full of impatience. “She’s your daughter now. Stop calling us for every little thing. We’re busy getting ready for our world trip with our darling daughter. Goodbye.” No one came for me. I was left to waste away in that squalid apartment. With my last ounce of strength, I clawed my way to the door, crawled into the hallway, and then the world went black.

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My husband’s adopted sister was supposed to bring my prenatal vitamins. Instead, she handed me abortion pills. I took the dose, and the bleeding began almost immediately. Ruby blinked innocently but offered no apology. “I’m always playing pranks on Julian, like slipping him laxatives. It’s just a habit. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” She tilted her head. “It was just a joke, Helena. You’re not mad, are you?” I tried to lunge at her, but my body gave out and I collapsed. Rushed to the hospital, I drifted in and out of consciousness. Through the haze, I saw Ruby fall into Julian’s arms, pouting. “It wasn’t on purpose! How was I supposed to know the driver grabbed the wrong box? He thought it was for you!” “What do we do now?” she cried. “Helena lost the baby! When she wakes up, she’ll kill me! What if she scars my face? You won’t see your beautiful Ruby anymore!” Julian looked at her adoringly, gently tapping her forehead. “Scared now? Where’s the brave girl who locked me in a bathroom without toilet paper?” He sighed and pulled her close. “You get away with this because you know I love you, you little troublemaker.” “Alright, stop crying. I’ll handle it. Just follow my lead.” When I opened my eyes again, Julian was holding a document—the driver’s termination letter. He had pinned all the blame on an innocent man. In that moment, I knew. This hollow marriage was finally over. 1 Seeing my silence, Julian grew uneasy. He took my hand and forced it against his own cheek, mimicking a slap. “Helena, please don’t be like this. Say something. You’re scaring me.” He showed me the termination letter, flipping to the page where the driver had signed a confession. “It was the driver’s fault. He thought the medicine was for me, one of our stupid pranks. He couldn’t find laxatives, so he just grabbed another box. He never imagined you would be the one to take it.” “This is all my fault,” he continued, his voice thick with false contrition. “I didn’t manage my people properly, and it cost us our child. Take it all out on me. Hit me, scream at me, whatever you need to do to feel better. I won’t fight back, I promise.” I wanted to scream at him, to ask him why an innocent driver had to pay for Ruby’s crime. But the moment I opened my mouth, tears began to stream down my face. Julian’s panic intensified. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice cracking. “Don’t worry, I’ve already fired him. With this confession, he’ll never work in this city again. Think of it as justice for our baby.” “We can have more children, Helena. We’re still young. Please don’t punish yourself. This is all my fault…” We can always have another one. What a cruel, ironic thing to say. For five years of marriage, I had dreamed of nothing more than having a child with him. The doctors said my body was weak, that I needed special care. To get pregnant, I forced down nauseating herbal teas every single day. My stomach was a roadmap of countless needle marks from hormone injections; I’d thrown out boxes upon boxes of empty syringes. And then, finally, we had good news. But after only two short months, before I could even begin to feel the joy of impending motherhood, it was all ripped away. And my husband, instead of blaming the person responsible, was making excuses for her. I wrenched my hand from his grasp, my smile more painful than any sob. “Where is Ruby?” Julian’s posture immediately stiffened. “Why are you asking about Ruby? She’s at the office, overseeing a meeting for me.” He rushed to her defense. “Don’t get the wrong idea. This had nothing to do with her. She was just the messenger. The driver bought the pills…” I hadn’t even accused her, yet he had already built a fortress of excuses around her. A bitter acid rose in my throat, choking me. “I just want to see her. Why are you so defensive?” “Did I say she had anything to do with this?” He let out a breath, realizing he had overplayed his hand. He tried to backtrack. “I’m just worried about you. You’re emotional right now, and I don’t want you and Ruby to fight…” In the past, I might have swallowed my pride and confronted her. But now, I knew I didn’t have the right. I had lost that privilege long ago. From the moment Ruby entered our lives, Julian had changed in ways that terrified me. This man, who had always been so aloof with other women, learned to bend for her. He, who hated having his plans disrupted, would smile and ask about her schedule, then orchestrate “coincidences” so they could meet. I had seen what it looked like when he loved me. I knew what I was seeing now with Ruby was the same thing. But whenever I tried to talk about their relationship, his face would flush with anger. “I’ve told you a million times, Ruby is just my sister! That’s it!” “I’ve known Ruby for as long as I’ve known you! If something was going to happen, don’t you think it would have happened before I started chasing you?” “She’s young and naive! As her older brother, it’s my job to look out for her! Why do you have to have such a dirty mind?” For five years, he had fed me lies. Eventually, I started helping him, lying to myself. I believed that true love would always win. I just didn’t realize how quickly a heart could change. Just then, the door creaked open, pulling me back to the present. 2 Ruby stood by my bed, beaming. “Helena, you’re awake! I’m so glad you’re okay. Brother Julian was so worried he couldn’t even eat!” Julian chuckled, playing along as if I wasn’t there. “You have the nerve to say that? I couldn’t eat because of the laxatives you gave me! I lost ten pounds in two days. I almost ended up in the ER!” Ruby stuck her tongue out playfully. “That’s what you get for making me run two miles to deliver a file. Now you know not to mess with me!” She playfully threw a punch in the air toward him. He got the cue, clutching his chest dramatically and collapsing back onto the chair. “Augh! I’m slain! Princess Ruby is too powerful!” Beneath the sheets, my hand clenched into a tight fist. The IV needle was forced from my skin, but I was so numb I couldn’t even feel the sting. After a moment, Ruby seemed to remember I was in the room. “Oh, Julian, you’re terrible!” she whined. “I came here to see Helena, and you didn’t even remind me. You just wanted to see me make a fool of myself, didn’t you?” “You’re the one who wanted to pick a fight. Don’t you dare play the victim. Your sister is watching, you know.” Ruby sat down on the edge of my bed, her face a mask of faux sympathy. “Helena, please don’t be sad. I bought you all these supplements to help you recover. You just need to build your strength back up, and you can always have another baby.” I slowly closed my eyes, not responding to her words. My voice, when I spoke, was ice. “You were hoping I’d never get pregnant, weren’t you?” “Well, you got your wish.” The single sentence plunged the room into a heavy silence. When I opened my eyes again, Ruby’s were filled with tears, as if she were the most wronged person in the world. “How can you say that to me?” “I think of you as my real sister! Why would I be happy that my sister had a miscarriage?” “You can hate me if you want, but you can’t accuse me of something so horrible!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I raised my hand to slap her. The next second, a sharp crack echoed through the room as my palm connected with Julian’s face. “Helena! That’s enough!” He pulled Ruby behind him, shielding her completely. “I told you what happened with the pills! It was the driver’s fault, it had nothing to do with Ruby! You can be upset, but you don’t have the right to blame innocent people!” “Ruby came here out of the goodness of her heart to see you! Look at yourself! You’re acting like a monster!” My nails dug into my palms as I screamed back at him. “Goodness of her heart? If she was so good, why didn’t she take me to the hospital the second I took that pill?” “I almost died! The doctors said I might never be able to get pregnant again! It’s easy for you to talk, you’re not the one who lost the chance to be a mother!” “Julian, you must be exhausted from keeping up this act for so long.” “Now that I can’t have children, you have the perfect excuse to divorce me! You can propose to Ruby right now! She’s been dreaming of crawling into your bed and having your bastard children!” A stinging slap across my face. Blood trickled from the corner of my lip. “Helena, I’ll say this one last time. There is nothing going on between me and Ruby.” “You couldn’t keep our child safe, that’s your failure! What’s even more pathetic is that you can’t admit your own weakness, so you blame everyone else!” “I am so disappointed in you right now. Stay here and think about what you’ve done.” With that, he turned and walked out. Ruby shot me a triumphant, mocking glance before hurrying after him. Outside the room, she grabbed his arm, her voice dripping with false concern. “Helena’s just upset, that’s why she said those things. I don’t mind, so why are you so angry?” “I can’t stand it when she gets like this. Paranoid. She can say whatever she wants about me, but not about you.” “But she just had a miscarriage. Are you really going to leave her here all alone? What if she gets angry and ignores you?” “That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?” “So, how are you going to thank me for covering for you this time?” My body shaking, I threw back the covers and dragged myself to the door. Through the crack, their hushed, intimate whispers stabbed at my ears. “I brought that miniskirt you bought me. If you want to see it, we could find a hotel nearby…” “You’re such a little temptress. A hotel is half an hour away. I can’t wait a single minute.” “What about your car? But what if Helena finds out? She’ll skin me alive.” “She won’t dare. Not while I’m here.” Their footsteps faded down the hall. The phone on my nightstand lit up.

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1 In my last life, I chose my mother. I did it for the ghost of a mother’s love she might one day offer—the one who did nothing but complain about being broke and let life happen to her. Later, she had a change of heart. She started with a small diner and clawed her way up to become a restaurant mogul. My brother, who had begged to go live with our wealthy father, was broken by the crushing pressure of his new life. He jumped from a building and landed on me as I was passing by. When I opened my eyes again, we were both reborn, back on the day our parents divorced. My brother, Sam, clung to our mother’s leg, putting on a performance worthy of an Oscar. “Sis, you go with Dad. Go live the good life. I’m not afraid of tough times! I’m staying with Mom!” He didn’t know the only reason our mother turned her life around was because she’d seen me, riddled with stomach cancer, coughing up blood while still forcing myself to work. So, this time, I don’t want love. I want money. All I want is to close my eyes for the last time in the quiet comfort of a twenty-thousand-dollar custom mattress. Even if that life means a stepbrother who supposedly hates my guts and a father who sees me as nothing more than a nuisance. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have long to live anyway. … The rain was relentless on the day I was reborn. “Oh, Maya, you be a good girl over there, you hear? And don’t you ever forget that Mommy loves you more than anything.” My mother stood in the doorway of our dilapidated apartment, the paint peeling off the iron gate behind her. She looked at me with what was supposed to be deep affection, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks. Her words were all about how much she’d miss me, but her hand was clamped firmly on Sam’s arm. She held on as if she was afraid the sleek luxury car waiting at the end of the alley would snatch her precious son away. Sam, nestled against her, shot a smug grin in my direction. “Go on, sis. Your new life is waiting!” That gloating look told me everything. He was reborn, too. But I wasn’t angry. I almost wanted to laugh. The familiar, searing burn was rising in my stomach again. I knew I probably wouldn’t make it to adulthood this time either. But it didn’t matter. At least this time, I had a choice. I turned and walked away, my sneakers splashing through the muddy puddles toward the alley’s entrance. A gleaming Maybach was parked there, its polished surface a stark contrast to the decaying neighborhood. A boy stood beside it. That was Caleb, my stepbrother, whom I’d never met. He wore a windbreaker, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other impatiently tapping at his phone. He held an umbrella carelessly, not minding that one of his shoulders was already soaked. When he looked up, his eyes scanned over me as if I were a bag of trash about to be tossed into his car. “Finished with the performance?” he asked as I approached. His voice was cold, but with an undercurrent of teenage rasp. “Making my dad and me wait half an hour for your five-minute tearful goodbye. You must think you’re pretty important.” I didn’t bother explaining. I just tossed my moldy canvas bag into the trunk. “Sorry.” My voice was hoarse, scorched by stomach acid. Caleb raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised by my quick surrender. He let out a short, humorless laugh, then opened the back door and slid in himself, making no move to help me. I wasn’t expecting any chivalry. I’d heard about him in my last life. This kid had a notoriously bad temper and hated anyone invading his space. I opened the door on the other side. The heat inside the car was blasting, but a chill still clung to my bones. My father sat in the passenger seat, his head bent over a file. He didn’t even turn around. “Now that she’s in, let’s go.” His tone was flat, devoid of any emotion. “That’s your brother now. This family doesn’t tolerate freeloaders. You need to prove your worth if you want to have a place here.” I shrank into the corner, watching through the tinted window as my mother and brother continued their dramatic, tear-soaked farewell at the end of the alley. What a show. Too bad the audience had already left. 2 The car moved smoothly, but my stomach was a churning sea of pain. It was a sharp, drilling ache that felt like it was boring into my very bones. I gritted my teeth, digging my fingers into the soft flesh of my inner thigh, trying to drown out one pain with another. Cold sweat trickled down my temples, dripping onto the leather seat. A sharp click sounded beside me. Caleb had his headphones on, idly flicking a lighter open and shut. But I could feel his eyes on me. “Hey.” He pulled one earbud out, his voice low, probably so our father wouldn’t hear. “If you’re going to puke, get out and do it. Don’t mess up my car.” I didn’t have the strength to speak. My hand trembled as I fished a small, unlabeled white bottle from my pocket. I shook out two pills and swallowed them dry. The bitterness as they scraped down my throat made me shudder. Caleb’s fidgeting stopped. He stared at the bottle, then at my paper-white face and my trembling fingers. His expression hardened into one of sharp disgust. “They even deal that crap in a dump like that?” He leaned a little closer, and the clean, fresh scent of his cologne momentarily masked the musty smell clinging to my clothes. “Maya,” he said, his voice laced with contempt, “are you a junkie?” I took a shaky breath. The medicine hadn’t kicked in yet, and the pain was making my vision swim with black spots. “Painkillers,” I managed to whisper, my eyes closed. “Hah.” He scoffed, clearly not believing a word. He put his earbud back in and shifted away from me, as if trying to create a physical barrier between us. “Now that you’re living under our roof, you better clean up your act. If my mom finds out, I can’t protect you.” He added, “Not that I’d want to.” I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the city’s neon lights blur past. A junkie? Whatever. I wasn’t planning on living much longer anyway. It was safer to be seen as trash than as a cash cow. By the time the car wound its way up into the hillside villa community, the agonizing knot in my stomach had finally begun to loosen. I was finally home. My stepmother, Lianne, was waiting at the door. She wore a silk lounge set and looked impeccably maintained, a polite but distant smile on her face. “You must be Maya. Your room is ready. It’s the guest room on the second floor.” No warm welcome, no fake affection. Good. I picked up my bag and headed upstairs. As I passed Caleb, he stuck his leg out, tripping me. Weak as I was, my legs gave out, and my knee slammed hard onto the polished floor. “Whoops. My bad.” Caleb looked down at me, his eyes filled with malicious glee. “Tsk, tsk. Shaky on your feet? Must be a nasty habit.” Downstairs, my father was taking off his coat. He heard the noise and glanced up with a frown but said nothing. Lianne’s brow furrowed, but she only gave Caleb’s sleeve a gentle tug. “Caleb, stop it.” I pushed myself up from the floor. My knee throbbed, but I felt a strange sense of relief. This was it. This was right. This was the life I wanted. Cold, hostile, and indifferent. I didn’t want anyone to bother me. I certainly didn’t need anyone to care about me. As long as they didn’t love me, I could die peacefully in this multi-million-dollar coffin. “It’s fine.” I brushed the dust off my pants and offered Caleb a smile that held no warmth. “I’ll be counting on you to look after me from now on, brother.” Caleb seemed taken aback. He studied me for a moment, then scoffed. “I’m not your brother, so don’t even try.” “And another thing. I don’t like noise, and I don’t like people touching my stuff. You better remember that.” He shoved past me and stormed up the stairs. 3 Dinner was an affair orchestrated by Lianne. It was a long, formal dining table. My father, Grant, sat at the head, with Lianne to his left and Caleb to his right. I was placed next to Caleb. The table was set with exquisite china and food I’d never even seen before. The aroma was tempting, but the smell of meat alone made my stomach clench. “Eat. Don’t be shy.” Grant sliced into his steak without looking up. “You’re part of this family now. I’ve enrolled you at St. Mary’s Academy. You start tomorrow.” It was the best private school in the city. In my last life, Sam had dreamed of getting in. My mother had sold our ancestral home to try and buy his way in, but they didn’t accept new money. “Thank you, Dad.” I picked up my knife and fork. My hand was shaking so badly that the silver clattered against the plate. Caleb shot me a cold glare. His eyes lingered on my trembling wrist, a smirk playing on his lips. Obviously, he was still convinced I was a user going through withdrawal. I managed to cut a tiny piece of steak and put it in my mouth. The prime cut, which should have been tender and juicy, tasted like a rancid dishcloth. I choked it down, fighting back the nausea. The moment it hit my stomach, an explosion of pain erupted. Cold sweat drenched my back instantly. I put down my cutlery and grabbed my glass of ice water, gulping it down in an attempt to quell the rising tide of acid. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” Lianne’s sharp eyes had noticed my distress. I quickly shook my head, flustered by her attention. “No, it’s delicious.” I forced a smile, though my face probably looked paler than a corpse’s. “Just a little carsick, that’s all.” “So delicate,” Grant muttered, clearly displeased. “How do you expect to survive in this world if you’re so weak?” “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, looking down. He ignored me, turning his attention back to his wife and son, and the three of them were soon lost in conversation. I only had two bites of that meal. After dinner, I fled to my room. I shut the door and locked it. I ran to the bathroom and threw up the two mouthfuls of meat I’d forced down. The vomit was streaked with red. I collapsed onto the floor next to the toilet, my hands shaking as I pulled the bottle from my pocket. I took out three pills. That was my limit for the day. Any more would cause irreversible kidney damage. Not that my kidneys were likely to last that long anyway. I swallowed the pills and lay down on the twenty-thousand-dollar mattress. It was so comfortable. If only I could just fall asleep and never wake up. 4 When I came downstairs the next morning, Caleb was on the sofa, pulling on his shoes. He paused when he saw me. His eyes landed on the vitamin bottle in my hand, which I hadn’t had a chance to put away. It was my disguise, filled with high-strength painkillers. “Breakfast of champions?” he drawled, a smirk on his face. “Too many vitamins can be toxic, you know. Common sense.” I shoved the bottle into my pocket, ignoring him. “Thanks for your concern, brother.” The driver took us to school. Caleb clearly didn’t want anyone to know we were related. He made me get out a block away from the school gates. “Walk the rest of the way,” he ordered, rolling down the window. “And don’t tell anyone you know me. I have a reputation to maintain.” Fine by me. The moment I stepped into the classroom, I could feel the hostility. Dozens of pairs of eyes were fixed on me. “So that’s her? The illegitimate one?” “I heard she’s not just illegitimate, she grew up in the slums. A total delinquent.” “God, how did someone like her get in here…” I walked to an empty seat at the back of the room and sat down. So childish. But I knew who was behind this. Sam couldn’t get into this school, but he had plenty of friends who could spread rumors for him. He wanted to ruin me. I didn’t care. As long as they didn’t bother me while I was trying to sleep, they could say whatever they wanted. I rested my head on the desk. The pain was returning, a dull ache in my stomach as the medication wore off. I fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake until someone shook me violently. I opened my eyes to see my homeroom teacher, a snobbish middle-aged woman, glaring down at me. “Maya! It’s your first day and you’re sleeping? What do you think this is?” She pointed to a problem on the blackboard. “Get up there and solve it.” I squinted at the board. Calculus, all in English. In my last life, I’d taught myself university-level math to tutor Sam. This was easy. But I didn’t move. It hurt too much to stand. “I can’t,” I said simply. The class erupted in laughter. “What a dummy.” “Waste of a spot.” The teacher’s face turned red with anger. “If you can’t do it, then get out and stand in the hall! Don’t be an eyesore in my classroom!” I slowly got to my feet, picked up my water bottle, and walked out. The hallway was filled with sunlight. It was nice. Warmer than the classroom. I leaned against the wall, soaking up the sun like an old woman on her deathbed.

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