The world flooded back into view, a sudden, blinding miracle. Before I could even share the news with my husband, I heard his voice from the hallway, low and conspiratorial, talking to the doctor. “Mr. Blackwood, your wife’s hands… they’re showing signs of healing again. Are you going to have me break her fingers again? This is the eighth time. She’s already lost her mother, and you… you smothered your own son. I know you want to protect Savannah, but you don’t have to destroy your wife to do it!” “If Christine ever finishes that sketch, Savannah’s life is over,” Damian’s voice was cold steel. “Savannah is a good person. It was an accident. She and I are getting married soon, and I won’t let anything jeopardize that.” “I promised Savannah that Leo would be my only son. I will not fail them. It doesn’t matter that Christine is childless now. I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life. Let that be my penance.” A tremor of pure agony wracked my body. So, the man who destroyed my world was the same one I called my husband. My mother was killed in a hit-and-run when I was eight months pregnant. In my frantic search for the driver, I too was struck by a car. I woke up blind, my fingers shattered. And it was all to pave the way for his true love. If this is what he wanted, then I would give it to him. 1 “Be quick about it. After you smash Christine’s fingers, I want her uterus removed, too. She’s already convinced herself that Leo is her child, so she probably won’t be asking for another. But we can’t take any chances. This way, I won’t have to use protection with Savannah anymore.” The doctor’s voice was a shocked whisper. “Mr. Blackwood, she’s already blind and crippled. You killed your own infant son just to bring Savannah’s child into your home, and now you want to sterilize her? If she ever finds out the truth, it will break her.” Damian scoffed. “So what? She’s a wreck. Who else would want her? She’s blind anyway. We’ll have the big wedding for Savannah first, and then when the press is gone, I’ll do a small ceremony for Christine. She’s easy to fool.” “Besides,” he continued, his voice dripping with casual cruelty, “she’s a coward now. Terrified of going outside, terrified of cars. The sound of an engine makes her tremble. I’ll just keep her locked up at home, for her ‘protection.’ She has no one left. Who would she even cry to?” “Will you be… watching, sir?” A dry chuckle. “I’ve watched the last eight times. What’s one more?” Footsteps approached. I scrambled back onto the cold operating table, my heart hammering against my ribs. The doctor looked at my bandaged hands, his face a mask of pity. “She’s been through this eight times. The amount of anesthesia we’re using will cause irreversible damage. Mr. Blackwood, can you really do this to her?” Damian kicked the base of the table, the metal ringing out in the sterile room. “Enough. Just get it done. If she’s crippled, I’ll support her. If she goes insane, I’ll support her!” The doctor sighed, a sound of defeat. “She loved you with everything she had. She stood by you when you had nothing, helped you rebuild your empire. And now her family is dead, her career is destroyed… I hope you don’t live to regret this, sir.” “For Savannah and Leo’s happiness, this is a small price for her to pay. I will never regret it. I just hope she stays blissfully ignorant. I’ll let her live in the fairy tale I’ve built for her. That’s the least I can do for the love she gave me.” “Same as always,” Damian added, his voice softening into a grotesque parody of care. “Give her a heavy dose of anesthetic. I don’t want Christine to feel any pain. And go a little easier on her left hand. The thought of her having to use her mouth or feet to pick things up… I can’t bear it.” The needle slid into my arm, but the drug felt like ice water in my veins. It didn’t work. My mind remained terrifyingly clear. Damian’s phone buzzed. “Mr. Blackwood, the monthly hush money for the driver’s family has been sent. One million dollars.” “Don’t bother me with these trifles again. Just remind them: if anyone asks, he was the one who hit Christine and her mother. He is to never, ever show his face or run his mouth in front of her.” A laugh echoed on the other end of the line. “Of course not. His son thinks he hit the jackpot. A life sentence in exchange for ten million? He considers it a bargain.” The laughter reverberated in the operating room, squeezing my heart in an invisible fist. So, it wasn’t some random driver who killed my mother. It was Savannah. And to cover it up, Damian hired a man to silence us both, a man who nearly succeeded. My sweet boy… my baby… murdered by his own father. He was our child, a tiny, perfect life that never got to see the sun. And for the sake of his precious Savannah, Damian snuffed him out without a second thought. The man I thought was my savior was the executioner all along. The regret was a poison, a burning shame for loving this monster. The hatred was a wildfire, consuming everything for falling for this beast in human skin. The hammer fell. Agony exploded in my hand, sharp and blinding, one finger after another, until they were nothing but a pulp of shattered bone and flesh. Then, a cold, metal instrument invaded my body, twisting and tearing deep within my womb. I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood, trying to swallow the screams. But the tears, hot and silent, streamed down my face. 2 I woke from a sea of pain. Damian was there, dabbing my forehead with a warm cloth, his eyes filled with a convincing, heartbreaking sorrow. “Does it hurt? I’m so sorry, my love. You fainted during your check-up. The doctors ran a full scan… your hands, they’ve gotten worse. And they found… they said there was a risk of cancer in your uterus, that it had to be removed. I tried to stop them, Christine, I really did.” He stroked my hair. “Even if you can never have children, even if you’re blind and can’t use your hands for the rest of your life, you are still the only woman I love. My only wife.” My hands were wrapped in even thicker bandages, and a searing pain radiated from my abdomen. I shifted slightly, and fresh blood immediately began to seep through the sterile gauze. I said nothing. I only tried to get out of bed, a simple movement that sent Damian into a panic. He threw his arms around me, his voice cracking with apologies, hot tears splashing onto my bandaged hands, making the raw wounds sting even more. He was practically on his knees. “Christine, it’s my fault, I’m so sorry! Please, don’t move. I’m begging you!” Even now, when he thought I couldn’t see, he put on such a masterful performance. So good that I had believed it for years. I had believed he loved me to death. A knot of ice formed in my chest, but I clung to one last, desperate thread of hope. “I’m fine. I was just dreaming of Mom and our little one. They said they were in so much pain. I miss them.” Damian visibly relaxed. “Christine, it’s over. Don’t dwell on it. The man who did it was executed. Your mother can rest in peace. I’ll protect you now. You’re my everything. You miss the baby? I can have them bring Leo in, okay?” I turned my head away, unwilling to expose his lie just yet. “No. Let him rest.” My baby would never come back. And the last thing I wanted was to see Savannah’s child parading in front of me. All those times I’d held him, cuddled him… were he and his father laughing at me? Laughing at the pathetic, foolish woman holding her child’s replacement, a child of her enemy, and whispering loving words? Damian didn’t sense the shift. He just chuckled playfully. “You spoil Leo so much. You don’t love him more than me, do you? I might get jealous. You need to love your son a little less, and your husband a little more.” You switched my child like a thief in the night, Damian. You hoped I would pour all the love for my dead son onto yours. I loved you for five years, and you couldn’t spare me a single truth. I was the greedy one, after all. 3 I insisted on going home to pay my respects to my mother. Damian, knowing how important she was to me, arranged for my discharge. He carried me all the way from the car, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. “Christine, even if you can’t see, even if you can’t use your hands, I’ll be with you, loving you always. I will be your eyes, your hands. I will spend the rest of my life with you.” Once, those words would have made me melt. Now, they sounded like a vile curse. Damian carried me into the memorial room he had specially set up in our home, so I could pray for my mother whenever I wished. But as we entered, my blood ran cold. The black-and-white portrait on the wall… it wasn’t my mother. It was Savannah’s. Damian, oblivious, guided me to the prayer cushion with practiced ease. He knelt first. “Rest in peace, mother.” He looked up at me. “Christine? Aren’t you going to kneel?” I prayed this was all a hallucination. How many nights had I knelt in this very room, my heart breaking as I confessed my failure to find Mom’s killer? How many times had I bowed my head until my forehead bled, praying for her peace in the next life, begging for a chance to be her mother someday? And all that time, Damian just watched me with that gentle, loving expression. He exploited my blindness, watching me kneel and pray, day after day, to the mother of the woman who killed my own. My stomach heaved, and I vomited until there was nothing left. Damian fussed over me, his concern a sickening charade. He finally carried me to bed, falling asleep in his clothes beside me. I watched his phone light up on the nightstand. A message from Savannah. “Dearest hubby, is Christine still blind? I’ll keep sending her encouraging messages then. Hope she gets well soon!” I picked up my own phone. Over a hundred messages from her. She knew I couldn’t read them, but she couldn’t resist the chance to torment me. “Damian is just too much! For my birthday, he bought me a private island AND a custom jewelry collection. He even booked out the most expensive hotel in the city for my party, said I deserve the best. Such a waste of money, right? You should tell him off for me, Christine. ;)” “Leo had a tantrum today, said he hates being called your ‘sweet boy.’ Said you’re disgusting, always holding him and kissing him. Damian felt so bad for him, he set up ten trust funds and bought him 99 supercars in different colors. He’s so young, he’s going to be so spoiled!” I stared at the photos of the three of them—a perfect, happy family. The sight was a physical pain. I opened my closet. It was filled with cheap, generic clothes. I touched my flat stomach, a hollow, empty space where life would never grow again. I was the one who helped Damian through his company’s crisis, using my skills as a criminal profiler to unmask a corporate spy and help him rebuild his financial empire. And for all that, all I ever got was a pat on the head and a condescending, “You’ve worked so hard, Christine. You’re the best.” My eyes landed on Savannah’s last message. “I killed your mother. You kept screaming about finding the killer, and it gave my mom such a fright she had a fatal heart attack. It’s all your fault. But Damian said he couldn’t let you keep making mistakes. He’s making you atone. Making you kneel and pray for my mother’s soul, wishing her a peaceful afterlife. If you do that, then maybe… I’ll forgive you. ♡” So this was it. The fruit of my love for Damian. Savannah’s forgiveness. I looked at the unfinished sketch lying on my bedside table, my gaze turning to ice. I called my best friend, who was on an expedition in the Arctic. “Three days,” she said. “Give me three days, and I’ll be there to get you out of that hell.” Good. That was just enough time to finish this drawing. 4 When Damian woke, he found me sitting upright in bed, staring into space. His face crumpled with pity. “Christine, I know it’s hard, not getting better. It’s okay. If you’re angry, you can hit me, you can scream at me. Just don’t hold it in. I can’t stand seeing you in pain.” I held up my bandaged hands. “It would hurt me to hit you,” I said, my voice flat. He immediately unwrapped the bandages, ignoring the blood and the foul smell, and pressed kiss after kiss onto my mangled fingers. “Christine, it’s my mother’s sixtieth birthday today. Let’s go to the party, get you out of the house. Our wedding is just a few days away. Things are going to get better from now on, I promise.” We arrived at the Blackwood estate. The first thing I saw was Damian’s mother, holding court in the center of the room. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, Savannah on one arm, Leo in the other, fussing over him endlessly. She didn’t even glance at me. Leo just shot me a disdainful look and rolled his eyes. Savannah, ever the peacemaker, smiled sweetly. “Mrs. Blackwood, I’m sure Christine missed you. If you keep clinging to me like this, she’s going to get jealous.” Damian’s mother raked her eyes over me, her lip curled in disgust. “Her? She’s a curse. Blind, crippled… and she still insists on wearing those disgusting bandages and using that cane. Straight from the hospital to my party, bringing all that bad luck with her. Christine, you’re a jinx. Your mother died, your son died. You’re poison. It’s my sixtieth birthday, and I plan on living for a few more decades. You and your family’s tragic fate can stay far away from me!” A cold smile touched my lips. “Isn’t that what you said to my mother?” “Please, I want to live long enough to see my grandchildren. Please, save me.” That’s what she’d said, on her knees, begging my mother for her life. Damian’s mother had always despised me. But my mother, behind my back, had donated her bone marrow to save her, hoping it would buy me some kindness from their family. And right after she was discharged from the hospital, still weak, she was run down in the street. His mother’s face flushed as if I’d struck her. “So what if I did? Are you going to hold that one little favor over my head for the rest of my life? Besides, it’s a good thing she donated to me. Otherwise, it would have just gone to waste when she died. Your mother was destined for a short life. She couldn’t handle the honor of my bow!” Damian used to defend me, at least a little. But now, he only had eyes for Savannah and her son. He swept Leo into his arms and kissed Savannah deeply, right there in front of everyone, completely lost in her spell. Coming up for air, he tossed a careless remark over his shoulder. “Let’s not fight. It’s a happy occasion.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Three more days. I just had to endure for three more days. Seeing my silence, his mother smirked. “Why am I arguing with a blind woman, anyway?” Suddenly, Leo wriggled out of Damian’s arms and charged, slamming into me with all his might. I stumbled backward, my cane clattering to the floor. In the chaos, he inadvertently knocked into Savannah as well. Damian instantly caught Savannah, cradling her protectively before sparing me a single glance. “Christine, are you alright? It was just one of the clumsy staff. I’m going to go calm my mother down. You shouldn’t be upset either.” And with that, he turned his back, leading Savannah away and leaving me alone in the center of a whispering crowd. The party continued around me as if I didn’t exist. “I heard she used to be a famous criminal profiler. Now she’s just a cripple. The Blackwoods are saints for putting up with her, and she still causes trouble. What a fool.” “I think Miss Savannah and Mr. Blackwood are the perfect match. She used to chase after him so pathetically. It’s a good thing she’s blind now. Imagine how much it would hurt to see them together.” I escaped to the backyard for a moment of peace, only to hear rustling from the bushes, punctuated by soft, rhythmic moans. Savannah was naked, clinging to Damian like a koala. “Damian,” she purred, “I want you to wreck me. The way you did for her.” His face was flushed with lust, but he hesitated. “Savannah, not now… Christine’s out there alone. I’m worried. Can we wait until after the wedding?” His eyes met mine through the foliage. Savannah saw it too. A wicked smile spread across her face. She lowered her voice to a seductive whisper, but arched her hips with a defiant thrust. “But isn’t this more thrilling? She can’t see us. Come on, Damian. Wreck me.” He lost all control, surging forward. I watched them, a grotesque silhouette against the manicured hedges, before quietly turning and walking away. 5 Back in the main hall, everyone was gathered around Damian’s mother for the birthday toast. No one noticed me slip away. I pulled out my phone, my thumb finding the familiar icon of my mother’s picture. The tears finally came. Mom, you gave half your life to save that monster, all for my happiness… You’re lying in the cold ground, while she’s here, celebrated by hundreds. It’s my fault. I was so blind. Suddenly, my white cane, which I had propped against the table, was snatched up and swung down hard against my hand. A fresh wave of agony shot through my fingers. My phone shattered, and my blood smeared across my mother’s face on the broken screen. Once again, she was lying in a pool of red. Savannah stood over me, her cheeks still flushed from her encounter, her smile utterly depraved. “I had a feeling something was off with you. So you can see. How was the show? Watching me with Damian… did it get you hot?” She sneered. “You can stare at that old hag’s picture all you want, she’s not coming back. She deserved to die. Trying to use that bone marrow donation to blackmail Damian into marrying you sooner. A busybody like that is better off dead. You know, right before the end, she was begging me not to hurt you.” “But what does it matter?” she purred, leaning closer. “For me and Leo, Damian still turned on you and your son, didn’t he? And the funniest part is, he doesn’t even know Leo isn’t his. But your precious little baby is still dead. They pulled out a fully formed baby boy, you know. Damian smothered him with his own two hands. Oh, you poor thing, Christine. If I were you, I’d gouge out my own eyes. Better yet, I’d just die and stay dead forever.” She tossed a phone at me. On the screen, a video played. I saw my mother being run over, again and again. I saw my baby’s face turning purple in Damian’s hands. “And you know why Damian was so insistent on having your uterus removed?” Savannah’s voice was a triumphant hiss. “I overheard you telling your mom you wanted her to be your daughter in the next life. I just had to make sure you’d be barren forever. Let’s see your mother try to reincarnate in a dead womb!” My vision turned red. I snatched the cane from her and raised it high. Before I could bring it down, she let out a piercing shriek and threw herself to the ground. A second later, a brutal kick sent me sprawling. “Christine, are you insane?” Damian roared. “Savannah was just trying to help you, and you attack her with your cane?” Savannah sobbed. “Damian, it’s my fault. I saw her with her phone and I just wanted to offer to hold it for her, to help her go inside and wish your mother a happy birthday. But she thought I was mocking her for being blind… she smashed her own phone and said she was going to gouge out my eyes, tear open my stomach, and crack my skull open for fun. She said… she said it was just some old woman’s birthday, not hers. She wished… she wished your mother would drop dead.” “I’m so scared, Damian,” she wailed. “I didn’t mean to upset her. But how could she say such a terrible thing about your mom?” Damian’s face was a mask of fury. “Christine, just because you’re a cursed, miserable person who got her own mother and son killed—no, you were just a bad mother—doesn’t give you the right to lash out at everyone else! If you hadn’t insisted on being a criminal profiler, running all over the place while pregnant, you wouldn’t have been hit! Why you, out of everyone in the world? If you had just stayed home like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened!” “You’re crippled, and now your mind is sick too! Savannah tries to be kind to you and you attack her! With your broken hands, you still try to hurt people! How can you be so vicious, so classless?” “A mother who raised a daughter like you is lucky she was hit by a car! Otherwise, you would have worried her to death! She deserved it! And now you curse my mother? My mother is perfectly fine!” Vicious? Classless? Deserved it? “Then tell me, Damian!” I screamed, my voice raw. “Where is the person who ran over my mother? Where is my baby? Tell me what really happened to me in that hospital! Tell me the truth!” A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes before he drowned it in rage. “Don’t think screaming makes you right! The killer was executed! And Leo just didn’t say hello to you today, is that why you’re holding a grudge? You went to the hospital for a check-up, that’s all!” “I don’t understand you! You’re acting crazy! Now, apologize to Savannah!” Just then, Leo ran out and started stomping on my bloody hand. “Stupid blind lady! Don’t you bully my mommy!” Pain lanced up my arm. I shoved him away. “Get off me!” “You really have lost your mind, Christine! He’s just a child!” “Damian, quick, check on Leo! He scraped his knee!” His mother stormed out, looking ready to faint. “You wretched creature! If anything happens to my grandson, I’ll kill you!” Damian looked at my blood-covered hand, then turned without another word, took Savannah’s hand, and carried Leo away. I closed my eyes in despair as I was thrown out of the Blackwood estate, alone and bleeding. 6 The next day, Damian still hadn’t come home, but the apologetic texts flooded in. “I’m so sorry, Christine. Are you in pain? I was just so worried. My mother adores Savannah, and I was afraid you’d hurt her and upset Mom. And Leo… he’s so young. Savannah has been over so much, I think he’s just gotten confused about who his mother is. Tomorrow is our wedding day. Let’s not think about unhappy things, okay?” I put down my paintbrush. “I understand,” I typed back with my good hand. “You do it all for this family.” “I do it all for my Christine. As long as you’re happy, your husband will do anything.” I didn’t reply. I gave the staff an extended vacation. Alone in the house, I started packing, but there was shockingly little that belonged to me. It made things easier. On the third day—their wedding day—I called the cemetery and arranged to retrieve the ashes of my mother and my son. Damian’s voice was electric with excitement when he called. “Christine, I’m at the venue now! The wedding dress is on its way to you. I promised your mother, and I promised you, a grand wedding. Wait for me to come and get you, okay?” I opened the box. The dress inside wasn’t my size. The internet was buzzing. 【CEO Damian Blackwood’s Wedding of the Century at the Zenith Tower】. Screens all over the city were broadcasting the event live. Savannah’s gown was a breathtaking couture creation. Mine, like the rest of my clothes, looked cheap. In his eyes, I was only ever worthy of a half-hearted gesture. “Of course,” I said, my voice dripping with irony. “Happy wedding day, Mr. Blackwood.” He didn’t catch the tone, assuming it was just my brand of affection. “You too, my Christine.” I left three documents on the table and, holding a file folder, took a taxi to the Zenith Tower. I handed the folder to the concierge, with instructions to give it to the groom, then took the express elevator to the rooftop. My friend’s helicopter was already waiting. I took one last look at the giant screen broadcasting the wedding below. Damian’s smile was radiant. I didn’t look back again as I climbed the rope ladder into the sky. Downstairs, just as Damian was about to place the ring on Savannah’s finger, his assistant burst onto the stage, his face ghost-white. “Mr. Blackwood, it’s a disaster! Your wife… Christine knows everything! She just threw herself into the ocean!”

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I’d been renting this apartment for three years and never missed a single payment. Last week, I paid the $800 annual heating fee. The landlord couldn’t stop grinning. The next day, he sent me a text: “You have 7 days to move out. My son needs the place for his wedding.” I told him we still had six months left on the lease. He shot back: “Go ahead and sue me. You can’t afford the hassle anyway.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t cause a scene. I just quietly started packing. On moving day, my landlord showed up with a bag of fruit, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Hey kid, take your time. No rush.” The moment he pushed the door open, he froze. The apartment was a hollow shell, as clean and bare as if no one had ever lived there at all. 01 After three years in this concrete box, I had started to think of it as a home. The pothos on the windowsill, which I bought the day I moved in, now had vines cascading down half the wall. The laminate flooring in the living room, which I’d spent a month’s salary on because I couldn’t stand the cold concrete, warmed the space. The integrated kitchen cabinets, the heated toilet seat in the bathroom—I’d added them all, piece by piece. I wasn’t just renting a space; I was building a life. My landlord, Mr. Finch, was a man in his fifties with thinning hair, puffy bags under his eyes, and a perpetual, calculating glint in his gaze. On the twenty-fifth of every month, his text message demanding rent would arrive with the punctuality of an alarm clock. Even though I’d never been a day late. “Brian, time to pay this month’s rent.” It was always followed by a grinning emoji that made my stomach turn. Today, he was back. “Brian, it’s getting cold. Time to pay the annual heating fee, don’t you think?” He attached a screenshot of the weather forecast, showing a cold front was due to hit next week. The building had independent heating, and the landlord collected the fee upfront to pay the utility company. Eight hundred dollars a year. It wasn’t a small amount. I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. The price was nearly double that of similar buildings in the area—a blatant rip-off. But it was written in black and white in the lease I’d signed, so I had no choice. I transferred the eight hundred dollars. He accepted it almost instantly. A voice message popped up. I pressed play, and his signature, slightly greasy laugh filled the air. “Brian, you’re always so prompt! A great tenant, a model tenant!” His over-the-top praise felt like a bone tossed to a dog, cheap and condescending. I didn’t reply. A heavy feeling settled in my chest, making it hard to breathe. A moment later, another message came through. “So, Brian, where do you work? Spending money like that, you must be doing pretty well for yourself, huh?” The screen’s glow illuminated my face. I could almost see his greedy expression, poking and prying from the other side of the network. I typed back calmly, “Just a small company. Enough to get by.” He didn’t push further, sending back a sticker that said, “Keep it up, kid! You’ve got a bright future!” and ending the conversation. I put down my phone and walked to the window. The night was thick, the city lights blurring into a distant halo. An unnameable frustration churned inside me. I turned, opened a drawer, and pulled out a folder from the very bottom. Inside was the lease I’d signed three years ago, along with a supplementary agreement. I slid out the agreement, its paper now slightly yellowed, and my eyes fell on one particular clause. “Any permanent fixtures installed by the tenant during the lease period may be removed by the tenant upon departure, or sold to the landlord at a negotiated price. The landlord may not prevent their removal without due cause.” It was a clause I had specifically requested back then. At the time, it felt like a simple precaution. Now, it seemed like it might have been the smartest thing I’d ever done. I carefully placed the agreement back in the folder. The churning in my gut strangely began to subside. 02 The next day was Monday. The morning subway was packed like a can of sardines. As I was jostled by the crowd, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Mr. Finch. I swiped the screen, and a text message appeared. “Brian, just a heads-up. My son’s getting married in a couple of months and needs the apartment. You should pack up and be out within 7 days.” I stood in the swaying car, surrounded by a cacophony of voices, but I couldn’t hear a thing. My mind went blank, a dull ringing in my ears. Out in 7 days? I stared at the words, reading them three times. I knew what each word meant, but together, they were incomprehensible. I had just paid him eight hundred dollars for heating. Yesterday, he was calling me a “model tenant.” Today, he was kicking me to the curb. A hot rush of blood surged to my head, and my fingers trembled with rage. I called him back. It rang a few times, then he declined the call. A second message followed: “In a meeting. Text me.” Suppressing my fury, I typed, word by word. “Mr. Finch, our lease isn’t up for another six months. And I just paid the eight-hundred-dollar heating fee last week.” After I sent it, the status changed to “typing…” A few seconds later, a thirty-second voice message appeared. I turned the volume down to the minimum and held the phone to my ear. Mr. Finch’s slick, contemptuous voice drilled into my brain. “Oh, come on, Brian. You can’t be so rigid. Contracts are just paper; people have to be flexible. My son’s wedding is a big deal. You can be a little understanding, can’t you?” “As for that eight hundred bucks… you’ve lived here for three years, and I never once raised your rent. A lot of things are worn out. Just consider it payment for three years of depreciation and cleaning fees. I’m not taking advantage of you.” “If you don’t like it, go ahead and sue me. Start the legal process. But let me tell you, a guy like you, just here to work, can you really afford the time? Can you afford the lawyer’s fees? You’ll end up with no place to live and probably lose your job in the process.” The message ended with a short, sharp, mocking laugh. I stood frozen, feeling as if every eye in the subway car was on me. His voice was like a poison-tipped needle, jabbing at my nerves. Rage. Humiliation. And the sickening feeling of being played for a fool. Every muscle in my body tensed. I wanted to storm over to his place and smash the phone into his smug, fleshy face. The train arrived at my stop. The doors opened, and the crowd surged forward. I was pushed out onto the platform, and the cold air that filled my lungs cleared my head slightly. I didn’t send another message. I just calmly, expressionlessly, took screenshots of the entire chat history, including that grating voice message and yesterday’s payment record. One by one. After I was done, I opened my phone’s voice recorder. Then, I dialed Mr. Finch’s number again. This time he answered, his tone impatient. “Didn’t I say I was in a meeting? What is it?” I spoke with a calmness that felt foreign even to me. “Mr. Finch, I just want to confirm. You’re saying you won’t honor the lease, you won’t refund the heating fee, and I must be out in seven days. Is that correct?” There was a two-second pause on the other end, followed by undisguised arrogance. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Be smart about this. It’s better for everyone.” “Okay.” I said the word and hung up. No arguments, no questions, not even a hint of emotion. Mr. Finch was probably stunned. He might have expected anger, begging, maybe even threats. He never would have anticipated such a clean, simple “Okay.” He didn’t text again. In his mind, he had likely just won another easy victory in the adult world. He was probably gloating over his own cleverness. I walked out of the subway station into the blinding sun. I looked up at the gray sky and took a deep, long breath. Then, I exhaled all the foul air from my chest. And with it, the last shred of my naive belief in decency and fairness. If playing by the rules couldn’t earn me respect, then I would play by his. And I would teach him a lesson he would never forget. 03 After the initial explosion, my anger cooled quickly, settling into an icy resolve. I had no time for grief or self-pity. First thing: find an apartment. I opened a rental app, set the filter to my office area, and specified “move-in ready, fully furnished.” I wouldn’t make the same mistake again, pouring my heart and soul into a space that wasn’t mine. That afternoon, I contacted three agents and scheduled viewings for the evening. Second thing: find some “helpers.” On a local services app, I searched for one key phrase: “professional disassembly.” Several companies popped up, their slogans a mix of promises. “Moving, Disassembly, Recycling—One-Stop Service.” “Expert Removal of Furniture, Cabinets, and Bathroom Fixtures. Guaranteed Intact.” I clicked on the one with the highest ratings and dialed the number. “Hello, I’d like to inquire about your disassembly services.” “Hello, sir. What do you need disassembled?” “Flooring, integrated kitchen cabinets, the toilet and vanity in the bathroom, and… the entire apartment’s heating radiators and pipes.” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. “Sir, are you sure about this? Those are all permanent fixtures.” “I’m sure,” my voice was flat, without a ripple of emotion. “I installed all of it myself. I have the right to take it with me.” “…Very well, sir. Our workers are highly professional and can perform a non-destructive removal. However, the cost will be higher than a standard move.” “Money is not an issue.” I hung up, having scheduled them to come for the first round of disassembly over the weekend. Only after arranging these two things did I start to pack my personal belongings. I packed the books from my shelves, folded the clothes from my closet. My movements were methodical, like a well-oiled machine. My phone rang. It was my colleague, Chloe. “Brian, what’s for dinner? I found this amazing barbecue place!” her cheerful voice chirped. “Not tonight, I have some things to do,” my voice was a bit hoarse. Chloe immediately sensed something was wrong. “What’s up? You sound like you’re on death’s door. Did something happen?” I paused for a moment, then briefly explained the situation. A roar erupted from the other end of the phone. “What?! That old bastard is something else! Kicking you out right after taking your heating money? He might as well just rob you!” “I’m coming over this weekend! We’ll go give him a piece of our minds! If that doesn’t work, we’ll sue him!” “Don’t,” I cut her off. “I can handle this myself.” “Handle what? You’re just too nice, Brian! That’s why people walk all over you!” Chloe said, frustrated. I leaned against the cold wall, looking at the half-packed boxes around me. My voice was soft but firm. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let him get away with it.” Chloe was quiet for a moment, seeming to process my words. “…Brian, don’t do anything stupid.” “I know what I’m doing.” After hanging up, I surveyed the “home” I had built with my own hands. My gaze swept from the bookshelf to the wardrobe, to the curtains, and finally landed on the vibrant green pothos. My expression hardened. I took a tape measure from my toolbox and extended it with a sharp snap. The cold metal tape gleamed. I began to measure every piece of furniture I had bought, recording the dimensions down to the millimeter. This was a war. A silent, one-man war. And I would be the only victor. 04 Early Saturday morning, my doorbell rang. It was Chloe, carrying bags of snacks. The moment she stepped inside and saw the sea of cardboard boxes, her eyes welled up. “Brian, I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” She dropped the bags and gave me a tight hug. I patted her back. “It’s okay. Out with the old, in with the new.” She pulled away, pacing the room angrily. “That landlord is a piece of work! No, I can’t let this go. I’m going to call and curse him out right now!” “Don’t,” I stopped her. “Save your energy.” Just then, the doorbell rang again. I opened the door to find three men in blue work uniforms. The man in front asked politely, “Are you Mr. Brian? We’re from the disassembly service.” “That’s me. Come on in.” Chloe stared, dumbfounded, as the three burly men walked in with their toolboxes. “Brian, you… you hired movers? Isn’t it a bit early?” I didn’t say anything, just gave the lead worker a nod. He walked over to the massive wardrobe in the living room and pulled out a power drill and a screwdriver. BZZZZZZT— The sound of the drill was deafening in the quiet room. Chloe’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Brian! What are you doing? You’re taking the wardrobe apart?” “I bought it. Why wouldn’t I take it with me?” I asked calmly. “But—but it’s custom-built! It’ll be such a pain to reassemble!” “A pain,” I said, “is better than leaving it for someone like him.” The workers were efficient. In less than half an hour, the seemingly indestructible wardrobe had been broken down into a neat stack of labeled wooden panels against the wall. Next came the bookshelf, the curtain rods, the soundproof door I had installed myself. Everything I had added, everything that could be moved, was methodically disassembled and packed. My phone vibrated. A text from Mr. Finch. “Brian, how’s the move going? Hurry it up. My son and his fiancée are waiting to get in and take measurements for the renovation.” The message oozed with impatience and smug satisfaction. I glanced at it, didn’t reply, and put my phone on silent. I wasn’t going to let any garbage disturb my focus. Chloe stood by, her expression shifting from shock to contemplation, and finally, to dawning realization. She looked at me as I directed the workers and said quietly, “Brian, for a second there, I almost didn’t recognize you.” I turned to look at her. She quickly added, “But damn, this is satisfying!” A huge grin spread across her face. She even ran over to offer the workers bottles of water. “Thank you for your hard work, guys! Take your time, be careful! These are our treasures!” Seeing her in full “partner-in-crime” mode, the tension that had been gripping me for days finally eased a little. It seemed I wasn’t fighting this war alone after all. The disassembled items were professionally wrapped and loaded into a large truck. As it drove away, Chloe waved enthusiastically, as if seeing off a general heading into a great battle. I knew this was just the prelude. The main event was yet to come.

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1 My mother died from overwork. She worked three jobs to afford the mortgage on our house, the one in the good school district. Before she took her last breath, she gripped my hand. “Clara,” she whispered, “you have to keep studying. Your education is your life.” I was ten. I didn’t fully understand. Six months later, my father brought a new woman home. Her name was Gable, and she came with a daughter in tow named Willow. She was timid, her eyes like a frightened fawn’s whenever she looked at you. My father said, “Clara, this is your sister. You’re older. You need to be mature about this.” I felt the small passbook my mother had left me in my pocket and nodded. It held only five hundred dollars, the last of my mother’s private savings. 2 Our home was a two-bedroom apartment. I used to have my own room. The day after Mrs. Gable moved in, she was stroking Willow’s hair and sighed to my father. “Willow is such a light sleeper. Her room is right by the road, and the traffic… the poor thing woke up startled several times last night…” My father glanced at me, his eyes shifting away. “Clara, you’re the big sister. Let Willow have the second bedroom.” I stared at him. He looked away, pretending to search for a lighter. “Okay,” I said. I moved into the converted storage room on the balcony. It was where we used to keep junk and the washing machine. In the winter, drafts cut through the thin walls. In the summer, it was a sauna. While cleaning it out, I swept up a dry, shriveled cockroach from a corner. I didn’t scream. I just wrapped it in a tissue and threw it in the trash. 3 That night, Willow knocked on the glass door of my new room. She was holding a plate of sliced fruit. “Sister, this is for you.” They were cherries. My mother had never bought them. Too expensive, she’d said. I took the plate. “Sister,” she said, “don’t be mad at Dad. And don’t be mad at my mom.” I didn’t say anything. She left. I placed the plate of cherries on the windowsill. By the next morning, they were covered in mold. Willow started piano lessons, ballet, painting. The money for her tutors came from selling the gold jewelry my mother had bought years ago. My stepmother would say, “A girl needs a bit of polish to land a good husband. Clara, why don’t you sit in on a lesson?” I was scrubbing my sneakers by the door, my hands covered in soap suds. “No, thanks. I have homework.” I started studying relentlessly. I used the old textbooks Willow had thrown out, scribbling notes on the blank back pages. The storage room had no heating. In winter, my hands would get so cold I could barely hold a pen. I’d fill a hot water bottle and clutch it to my chest, relying on that small pocket of warmth to get me through another vocabulary list, one word at a time. My mother told me my education was my armor. 4 When I was twenty-two, the Vance Corporation posted a job opening for an executive assistant to the CEO. The requirements were sky-high. Multilingual, versed in business etiquette, impeccable background, and willing to live in. But the salary was five times that of a typical office job. When my stepmother heard, her eyes lit up. Her first thought was for Willow. She’d heard the Vance heir, Justin Vance, was incredibly handsome and the sole successor to the empire. If Willow could get close to him, it would be the score of a lifetime. But a few days later, she came back with new information. Justin Vance was a cold-hearted demon, with a temper so fierce his last assistant had run out sobbing. The job also required signing a strict non-disclosure agreement and offered almost no personal time. Willow burst into tears, terrified. My stepmother called both of us to the living room. “The Vances are a top-tier family, but they have so many rules. I hear it’s a very demanding job. Willow is too sensitive… I couldn’t bear to see her suffer.” She took my hand, her face a mask of loving concern. “Clara, why don’t you give it a try? You’re steady. You can handle hardship. And with that salary, you could pay for Willow’s graduate program abroad.” My father sat on the sofa, the TV volume turned up loud, pretending he couldn’t hear a thing. I looked at my stepmother’s eager face, then at Willow. Willow was picking at her freshly manicured nails. “Sister,” she whispered, “I’m scared…” “Okay,” I said. 5 The interview at the Vance Corporation was rigorous. They tested my language skills, my logical reasoning, reviewed my medical reports, and ran a background check three generations deep. The interviewer asked me, “With your qualifications, you could get a job at any top international firm. Why apply for this position?” I answered calmly, “Because I need the money.” The interviewer gave me a long, searching look. I was hired. Life at the Vance estate was a different kind of difficult. The rules were more numerous than lines of code. One wrong step was not an option. But the pay was real, the food and board were covered, and there were endless benefits. I was assigned to Justin Vance’s private villa, responsible for his personal affairs and some of his documents. Justin was, as rumored, not an easy man to serve. He spoke little, was relentlessly demanding, and a complete workaholic. He often held international conference calls in his study until the dead of night. I had to be on standby, ready to make coffee, organize materials, or take notes at a moment’s notice. He rarely gave direct orders. He would just glance at something, and I was expected to know what he needed. I learned quickly. I remembered everything. He only drank dark-roast coffee, served at precisely eighty-five degrees Celsius. He had a habit of using a blue fountain pen for his annotations. Within six months, I was the one usually on duty in the study. Once, exhausted from a merger case, he pinched the bridge of his nose and asked, “Have you read this file?” “I glanced at it while organizing,” I answered truthfully. “And?” “There’s an issue with the cash flow on their financial statement. The third-quarter accounts receivable are unusually high. It doesn’t make sense.” He looked up at me, then asked nothing more. Two days later, he tossed a thick stack of all-English due diligence reports onto my desk. “Proofread this. Find any gaps.” I took it. “Yes, sir.” The report was dense with technical jargon. I spent hours on it, making detailed notes on sticky tabs. He reviewed my work and said nothing. After that, he occasionally had me handle less sensitive business emails. My salary rose accordingly. 6 Three years flew by. I was twenty-five, a veteran by his side. People in the company called me Ms. Cheng, with a mixture of respect and fear. In October, the Vance Corporation held its anniversary gala. All the city’s elites and top executives were invited. Justin was required to attend, and he named me to accompany him. It was the first time I had appeared with him at such a public social event. I wore the standard high-end professional attire, my hair pulled back in a severe, perfect bun. The gala was held in the top-floor ballroom of the corporate headquarters. The lights were dazzling, the sound of a cello rich and melodic. I walked half a step behind Justin, my head slightly bowed, my job to field unwanted conversations and hand out business cards. The room buzzed with chatter, with flattery. Justin was a man of few words, offering a curt response here and there, his gaze cool and distant. I focused on my task, my senses sharp. Until a familiar, timid voice drifted toward me. “Mom, is that Mr. Vance? He’s even more handsome in person than in the magazines…” My fingers faltered. I lifted my eyes, following the sound. Near the dessert table, on the outskirts of the main crowd, a young woman in a pink gown was on her tiptoes, staring dreamily in Justin’s direction. It was Willow. She had matured, looking even more delicate and lovely. Her dress was from a major designer’s new collection. Not cheap. My stepmother stood beside her, craning her neck, her face glowing with vicarious pride. They hadn’t seen me. 7 Justin was speaking to someone, but his peripheral vision caught my momentary pause. Without turning, he asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong?” I immediately dropped my gaze and took a champagne flute from him. “Nothing, sir. A little spilled.” He grunted in acknowledgment. Midway through the evening, Justin stepped out onto the terrace for some air. As always, I followed. We passed through a set of French doors, leaving the noise behind. As we walked by a decorative arrangement of champagne roses, the chatter of a few interns reached us. “It’s so hard to get an internship at Vance, but just seeing Mr. Vance makes it all worth it.” “I heard he has an assistant, a Ms. Cheng, who’s supposed to be incredible…” “Please. No matter how incredible she is, she’s still just an assistant. Does she really think she’s the lady of the house?” It was Willow’s voice. Laughing, but with a sharp, acidic edge. I didn’t break my stride. But Justin suddenly stopped. He turned his head slightly, his gaze sweeping past the roses, catching a glimpse of the figures behind them. “You know them?” he asked, his voice even. I stood half a step behind him, my eyes on the floor. A cool autumn breeze drifted over, carrying the scent of roses. I heard my own voice, clear and steady. “No.” “They just look familiar.” “They look a lot like the sister who made me sleep in a storage room, and then sent me here to be your maid.” Justin said nothing. He turned and continued walking. I followed. I didn’t look back at the roses again. 8 After the gala that night, I returned to the villa as usual. Jenna, another assistant who lived there, hurried over, her eyes sparkling. “Clara, did you see? Some of those big-shot CEOs were checking you out all night.” “I didn’t notice,” I said, taking off my earrings. “Seriously! And Mr. Vance…” she lowered her voice. “When he came back from the terrace, I swear he looked at you a few extra times.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, placing the earrings in their box. “Get some sleep. We have to prepare the materials for the morning meeting.” The next day, it was business as usual. Coffee, files, scheduling. In the afternoon, Justin handed me a report. “Review the departmental budgets for next month.” “Yes, sir.” I opened it. It was fresh from the finance department. One line item caught my eye: Two additional full-time positions for interns in the Public Relations department. PR was the most glamorous department in the company. There were no recent plans for expansion. I took my pen and wrote a small note in the margin: No current expansion needs for PR. Roster questionable. Please verify. When Justin took the report back, he glanced at my note but said nothing. 9 Two days later, the head of HR came to find me. Mrs. Vance wanted to see me. A knot tightened in my stomach. The matriarch lived at the family’s old estate and rarely involved herself in corporate affairs. I followed the director to the estate. Mrs. Vance was in the conservatory, pruning an orchid. She was in her fifties but impeccably preserved, radiating a calm, regal air. I bowed respectfully. “You’re the Cheng girl? The one working for Justin?” “Yes, ma’am.” “I hear you took this job in your sister’s place?” “Yes. My family was in financial difficulty at the time. My sister was young and timid, and my stepmother couldn’t bear to part with her, so I came instead.” “A sensible child,” she said, snipping off a withered leaf. “Now that you are with the Vance family, you are one of us. The past is the past. You should learn to let it go.” “I understand, ma’am.” “Good.” She gestured for me to have some tea. “Next month, we’re hosting a small family dinner for some old friends. You’ll accompany Justin. Be meticulous.” “Yes, ma’am.” When I left, my back was damp with sweat. Mrs. Vance’s words were a mixture of praise, promotion, and a clear warning. She knew about Willow. And she knew about our relationship. 10 Life went on. The documents Justin gave me to handle grew in complexity. Sometimes it was a simple itinerary; other times, a summary report from an overseas branch. I was meticulous. I made no mistakes. He never offered praise. When I returned his work, his fingertip would sometimes pause on a certain point, or he would give the slightest grunt. I learned to understand. This part was correct. This part needed more thought. Willow and my stepmother had somehow managed to get jobs at Vance. Willow was an intern in PR, and my stepmother was a supervisor for the cleaning crew in logistics. Once, when I was in the finance department filing an expense report, I saw Willow from a distance, carrying a stack of files. She was laughing with some male colleagues, still dressed in designer labels, her cheeks rosy. She saw me. Her smile froze for a second before she turned away, pretending not to know me. I didn’t linger. I signed my papers and left. My stepmother, however, cornered me in the break room one day. She was beaming, holding a thermal container. “Clara, now that we’re both at this big company, we’re still family…” I sidestepped the soup she offered. “Is there something you need, Mrs. Gable?” Her expression faltered. “Don’t be like that… It’s just, your sister in PR… her intern salary is so low. You’re in Mr. Vance’s good graces now. Could you maybe talk to HR, get her a permanent position ahead of schedule?” “No,” I cut her off. “The company has procedures. I’m just an assistant. I can’t help.” I walked around her and left. As I walked away, I heard her mutter under her breath, “Ungrateful wretch.” 11 The day before the family dinner, Justin had me go to the storeroom to select some gifts for the old estate. The storeroom manager was a veteran employee. He squinted at the request form I handed him. “Well, well, Ms. Cheng in person? Mr. Vance must think highly of you.” I showed him my ID badge. “You’re too kind, Mr. Lee. I’m just running an errand.” He checked my badge and ambled off to retrieve the items. I waited outside the door and overheard two junior clerks gossiping inside. “Did you hear? That new woman in logistics, Mrs. Gable, has sticky fingers. She was caught on camera taking leftover tea bags and pastries from a conference room…” “Tsk. She just got here. Isn’t her daughter in PR? She looks like such an innocent girl…” “Innocent? Please. The other day she tried to get up to the executive floor, but the secretaries stopped her…” I felt nothing. Mr. Lee came out with the items. I checked the list, signed, and left. On my way back, I passed the PR department’s floor. I saw Willow touching up her makeup in a compact mirror, her eyes darting toward the elevators. I walked past, holding the gift boxes. She saw me, bit her lip, but didn’t dare to speak. 12 The family dinner was a much more private affair than the corporate gala. The guests were mostly old family friends and their children. The atmosphere was relaxed. I remained by Justin’s side. He wore a casual grey suit, which softened his sharp edges, making him look more refined. But his expression was still distant, offering only a slight nod to the elders who greeted him. Halfway through the meal, a girl in a white dress suddenly appeared, holding a plate of sliced fruit, and approached Justin. “Mr. Vance, Mrs. Vance had the kitchen prepare some fresh melon for you.” Her voice was soft and sweet. It was Willow. She had somehow managed to join the serving staff at the estate. She was clearly dressed for the occasion, her hair in soft curls, her face made up to look naturally flawless. The chatter at the tables quieted. Several pairs of eyes turned our way. Justin looked up, his gaze falling first on the plate, then on her. Willow’s cheeks flushed, her eyes shimmering. I stood behind Justin, my head down, motionless. Justin didn’t take the plate. He spoke to the head butler standing nearby. “Take this. Distribute it among the children.” The butler stepped forward. Willow’s face went pale. She let go of the plate, flustered. She seemed to want to say something more, but Justin had already turned to speak with an old family friend beside him. She was stuck, unable to move forward or retreat. The butler prompted her in a low voice, “Shouldn’t you be leaving?” She bit her lip, her eyes red, and finally backed away. I never once looked up. As the melon was passed around, I heard one of the ladies laugh softly. “That serving girl is certainly pretty. A little too ambitious, though.” Another murmured in agreement, “Indeed. She doesn’t know her place.” The dinner continued as if nothing had happened. 13 After the guests had left, I was in the private lounge, gathering the documents Justin had left there. He was still there, sitting on the sofa, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. “The girl who served the fruit today,” he said suddenly. “That was your sister?” My hand paused. “Yes.” “Your thoughts?” I put down the briefcase and stood properly. “Mr. Vance, in my opinion, a formal dinner at the estate has its own etiquette. To approach you unbidden, to curry favor so blatantly, is a transgression. She should be handled according to the house rules.” He was silent for a moment. “You’re impartial.” “I’m stating a fact.” He stood up and walked to the window, gazing out at the darkened garden. “According to the rules, what is the procedure?” “A minor offense would be a pay deduction. A major one would be termination, with a permanent ban from re-employment.” He didn’t turn around. “Then follow the rules.” “Yes, sir.” “You will deliver the message.” I froze. “Me…?” “What?” He turned to face me. “Is it difficult for you?” “Not difficult, but… shouldn’t this be handled by the butler…?” “I want you to do it. Tell them it comes from me.” A knot formed in my chest. I lowered my head. “Very well.”

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Ten years ago, I followed Kaelan to the lawless state of Veridia to become a soldier of fortune. Together, we faced desert sun and gunfire, learning to fight and survive. For a decade, I trusted him with my life—he’d never betray me, but he’d also never share my bed. Not even once. Even under the influence of a strong aphrodisiac, he chose to cut himself rather than touch me. I believed he simply felt no desire. I had accepted that. But on the eve of my last mission, he came to me, drunk, and pulled me into a breathless, heated night. My uniform, the sheets—everything ended up tangled and torn. Lost in the haze, he whispered, “Luna, come back alive. At the victory feast, I’ll marry you.” I fought harder than ever in that battle. When I returned, wounded and dirty, just in time for the celebration, he wasn’t there. Instead, I overheard a drunken teammate: “No more wild nights for the Commander now that Luna’s back. Him and that apprentice wrecked eighteen beds in half a month. I wonder if Luna will cry when she hears.” I gave him one last chance to show up. He never came. And I knew—I was done. 1 Grit and icy wind scraped against my face. With every breath, the wound in my side screamed in protest, a tearing, white-hot agony. From the mess tent, a roar of laughter erupted again, punctuated by the clinking of bottles. “Who does Commander Kaelan really love? Is that even a question? It’s Ava, obviously!” My feet froze to the spot. I’d wanted to dismiss it as drunken nonsense. After ten years of shared battlefields, my faith in Kaelan had been absolute. But the name Ava sent a chill through my entire body, a cold that had nothing to do with the wind. He had broken so many of his own rules for her. “He nearly got himself killed saving that clumsy girl! That was the first time I ever saw the Commander lose his cool!” “He kept it under wraps while Luna was around. But the second she left? Man, the hot springs, his bed… they never stopped!” “They only took a break yesterday. Heard it was because Ava’s back was too sore, couldn’t even get out of bed. Kaelan spent the whole day rubbing it for her.” “And when the urgent dispatch came in saying Luna’s unit needed backup, you know what he said?” The voice mimicked Kaelan’s usual cold, detached tone perfectly. “What’s the rush? Luna can handle herself.” The words that followed were a meaningless buzz in my ears. A violent spasm shot through the wound in my side, and I stumbled, catching myself against the rough concrete wall of a bunker. The gut-wrenching pain confirmed it. This was no nightmare. The laughter continued, the men now guessing “how the eighteenth bed finally collapsed.” Slowly, I straightened up, my hand finding the spare magazine he’d given me. “In a pinch,” he’d said, “trust this less than you trust me.” I placed the magazine gently on an empty oil drum. The sharp clang echoed, and the tent fell instantly silent. One by one, faces flushed with booze turned bone-white. “L-Luna? Commander?” a soldier nicknamed Monkey stammered. “They’re just talking shit! Kaelan would never…” “Go get Kaelan,” I cut him off, my voice dangerously calm. Monkey scrambled out of the tent as if fleeing a fire. I added, just loud enough for him to hear, “Tell him I’m wounded.” Blood was seeping from my injury, a warm, sticky dampness spreading against my skin. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the shards of ice grinding away inside my chest. I waited in the dead silence for two hours. My answer came not from Kaelan, but from the light, innocent giggle of Ava over his phone. “Luna? Oh, hi. My mentor… he’s exhausted. He’s already asleep.” “If you’re hurt, you should see a medic, or patch yourself up! Why call him? He has his own life, you know. He can’t just revolve around you all the time.” I gripped the edge of a table to stand, my vision swimming with black spots from the pain. Then, I raised my pistol to the tent’s ceiling and pulled the trigger. Three shots. My final word on our ten years. And my final chance for him. For us. Even with the evidence laid bare, the whispers echoing in my ears, the cold cruelty of that phone call… a tiny, pathetic flicker of hope still sputtered in the deepest part of my heart. I needed an answer. From his own lips. I knew he would understand the signal. Just like the countless times over the past decade we’d used specific shots, whistles, even glances to pass messages only we could decipher. He was Kaelan. The man who could identify an engine type from two miles away in his sleep. This time, I didn’t have to wait long. He appeared moments later, cloaked in a chilling aura. He was in his casual uniform, but the top button of his collar was misplaced. His sharp eyes scanned the tent, sweeping over the terrified men, confirming there was no immediate threat before finally landing on me. His brow furrowed in a deep scowl. “Luna!” His voice was laced with its usual hardness and an undeniable reprimand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re a ranking officer. You don’t discharge your weapon inside the compound! Even for a victory celebration, there are no such rules!” “All of you, out! Get back to your bunks! Anyone breathes a word of what happened here tonight, you’ll answer to me under military code!” He barked the order, and the men, who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else on Earth, scrambled out of the tent. In an instant, it was just the two of us. I felt a bitter smile twist my lips. “Kaelan,” I said, my voice hollow. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” His scowl deepened, but his expression remained a mask of calm, as if nothing had happened. He took a step forward, as if to check my injuries, but then stopped. “You’re wounded,” he stated, his tone cold and instructional. “You should have gone to the medical tent immediately. Firing your weapon in here… what kind of example is that?” “Stop being childish. Get your wound treated. We’ll talk tomorrow.” 2 A laugh, brittle and broken, escaped my lips. The pain was making my vision blur. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, the taste of blood filling it. “Kaelan. You slept with Ava. Didn’t you?” He was still frowning. He gave a single, sharp nod. He didn’t say a word. No denial. No explanation. Not even a flicker of guilt. Cough! A hot, metallic rush surged up my throat, and a spray of blood splattered on the dusty floor. I swayed, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the table for support. Through the haze of pain, I saw a flash of alarm in his eyes. “Luna!” He rushed forward, and for the first time, I saw a hint of panic, of genuine worry, on his famously stoic face. “How bad is it?” But just as he reached for me, a soft sob came from behind him. “Mentor…” Kaelan’s head snapped around. When he saw Ava standing there in the sand, barefoot in nothing but a thin nightgown, tears streaming down her face, the look of raw, protective tenderness that filled his eyes ripped my heart to shreds all over again. “Ava? Why did you run out here barefoot? Don’t be silly. What are you crying for?” He immediately spun away from me, all thought of my injury erased from his mind. His voice, though sharp with concern, was laced with a gentleness I had never heard. It made my chest ache with a suffocating sourness. “I… I woke up and you were gone… I heard gunshots, and I was so scared…” Ava choked out, her crying escalating into a theatrical, heart-wrenching display. She threw herself into his arms, clinging to him. “Mentor, please stay with me… I can’t sleep alone, I don’t feel safe…” For the first time, I truly understood the saying about the squeaky wheel getting the grease. Kaelan, the man I’d always seen as immune to feminine wiles, instantly scooped her up into his arms. He, who loathed physical contact, simply accepted her dependent embrace, his arms closing around her protectively. “Mentor, can we go back? It’s cold out here…” Ava murmured. Then, she peeked over his shoulder, giving me a look of pure, triumphant ownership before pressing a kiss to his cheek, her voice thick with a coy nasality. “Okay,” Kaelan replied without a second of hesitation. “We’ll go back.” He held her and strode toward the tent flap, his figure about to be swallowed by the night. “Kaelan.” I used the last of my strength to rasp out his name. He paused for a fraction of a second. But he never looked back. As he walked away, his silhouette shrinking into the distance, my world went dark with him. Three days later, I walked out of the command office, my signed discharge papers in hand. The first thing I saw was Kaelan, in the distance, patiently teaching Ava how to handle a firearm, his hands covering hers. He’d been very busy these past three days. Busy coaxing Ava out of her room, telling her not to be ashamed to face the others. Busy escorting her to the infirmary to get time off and a prescription. Busy appearing in her social media feed, his calloused, warrior’s hands gently massaging her “sore” ones. Busy personally applying ointment to the places where their passion had left her torn. Most ironically, for the first time in the fifteen years I’d known him, I saw him in a kitchen, brewing some special restorative broth. But he hadn’t found a single minute to ask about my mission. Or my injuries. It was as if I were a complete stranger. Fifteen years I’d known him. I’d seen him face down a hail of bullets without flinching. Now, for someone else, he wore a tenderness I’d never seen. The wound in my side still throbbed, but I forced myself to walk away, stride firm. Even so, tears blurred my vision. Perhaps his heart had belonged to someone else for a long time. I had just been too blind to see it. He hated complications, couldn’t stand it when women cried. But Ava’s tears always seemed to make his brow furrow with frustration before he gave in with a sigh of helpless surrender. Everyone in our unit knew about Kaelan and me. But this girl, the one he’d “saved out of kindness,” had her eyes glued to him from the very beginning. Offering him water, a towel, shyly confessing her admiration. At first, Kaelan was just as cold and dismissive to her as he was to any other nuisance. When did it change? Was it that rainy day, when Ava stood at his door, clutching a deliberately soaked blanket with red-rimmed eyes, and he broke his own rule by letting her in? Or was it during that field exercise, when she twisted her ankle? There was a medic with the team, but Kaelan carried her himself for three miles over rugged terrain, his entire back soaked with sweat. He had never carried me. Even when I was shot and collapsing, he would only prop me up, his voice grim. “Luna, on your feet. Keep moving.” Looking back, the signs were everywhere. A hundred small betrayals I had refused to see. I turned my back, trying to shove the image away along with ten years of foolishness. “Mentor! Catch me!” Ava’s playful shriek came from behind me. I instinctively moved to step aside, but she crashed into me from behind, hitting my wounded side with pinpoint accuracy. An explosion of pain detonated in my torso. My vision went black, and I crumpled to the ground. Gravel bit into my skin, and the coppery tang of blood filled my mouth, trickling from the corner of my lips. “Ava!” Kaelan was there in a flash, pulling her into his arms, his voice frantic as he checked her over. “Where did you get hit? Are you hurt?” Ava burrowed into his chest, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Oh, Luna, I’m so sorry… Did I scare you? I barely touched you, how did you fall?” 3 Only then did Kaelan look at me. His eyes fell on the blood at my lips and my ghost-white face. He scowled, his voice thick with irritation. “Luna, get up. Don’t lie there looking like a damsel in distress. It’s not you, and it’s pathetic to watch.” Every word was a razor blade dragging across my heart. I didn’t have the strength to argue. I pushed myself up, reaching for the papers scattered on the ground. He got to them first. His eyes scanned the words “Discharge Application.” His face changed instantly. He crushed the paper in his fist, his knuckles turning white. “What is this? You’re leaving?” For a moment, his voice was tight with an unfamiliar tension, a flicker of panic that sounded utterly ironic to my ears. I took advantage of his shock, snatching the papers back. “None of your business,” I sneered. “You…” He started to press, but was cut off by Ava’s innocent-sounding question. “Sister Luna… did you pretend to fall just so my mentor would see these papers?” She tilted her head, her expression one of pure, harmless confusion. “But your acting is really terrible, Sister Luna! Everyone in this entire sector knows how you are. You love a good fight. You’re strong. You’ve climbed over mountains of bodies to get to where you are. Why would you ever be willing to leave? Isn’t this place… everything you care about?” Her words were like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing that small spark of panic in Kaelan’s eyes. His gaze turned cold, filled with nothing but disappointment and contempt. “Luna,” he said, his voice dripping with scorn, “since when did you stoop to these kinds of tricks?” A suffocating mix of absurdity and despair choked me. I pushed through the searing pain, staggered to my feet, and turned away, clutching the papers. “Stop! Explain yourself!” he roared, his footsteps closing in behind me. “Mentor…” Ava tugged on his sleeve at just the right moment, her voice trembling. “I’m hungry, and my feet are cold. Can we go back now?” He froze. “Okay,” his voice softened immediately. “We’ll go back.” Without another glance at me, he turned, wrapping his arm securely around her. Their footsteps faded into the distance. The wind whipped sand against my face. It stung, but I didn’t look back. I just kept walking in the opposite direction. Overnight, the news of my resignation spread like wildfire through the base. That evening, Kaelan kicked my door open, his face a thundercloud. “Luna, are you serious about this? This isn’t like you!” I laughed coldly. “Running away with you ten years ago and throwing my family away wasn’t like me either.” “But that was me being crazy for love. This is me paying the price for being blind.” “Enough!” he snapped. “I see what this is. You’re jealous! You can’t mix personal feelings with your career. What happened with Ava that day… she was drugged. There were circumstances. I couldn’t just leave a young girl like that to fend for herself!” “How many times do I have to tell you? I only see her as a little sister!” “A sister?” My lips twisted into a smirk, the wound in my side pulsing with a dull ache. “Is that what you call sleeping together now?” “And what about me, Kaelan? What am I to you?” “Remember when I was drugged? You threw me into a frozen pond. I’ve had health problems from the cold ever since. But when it’s Ava, it’s ‘I couldn’t just leave her alone,’ so you played hero in her bed?” “Shut up!” A vein throbbed in his temple. He waved a hand dismissively, his patience gone. “Stop digging up the past! Just tell me. What will it take for you to stop this nonsense?” I stood up, my spine ramrod straight, and my voice dripped with sarcasm. “In this compound, it’s either her, or me.” Without a single moment of hesitation, he exploded. “Luna, you’re being completely irrational.” Kaelan stared at me, his expression shifting from shock to profound disappointment and ridicule. Then he slammed the door and was gone. I slowly sat back down. I picked up the bullet-casing pendant he’d once made for me, looked at it for two seconds, and then let it drop from my fingers. It clattered into the trash can. Some parts of the past are better off thrown away. 4 The day I left, the sky was a blanket of gray. I took one last look at the place I had called home for a decade, then turned toward the jeep waiting for me outside the gates. “Leaving so soon, Luna?” Ava’s voice, sickly sweet as always, called out from behind me. I didn’t break my stride. She hurried to block my path, her cheeks flushed an unnatural red, her breathing shallow. “Are you trying to play hard to get? Threatening to leave so the Commander will finally realize how much he needs you?” she taunted, a cruel, cold light in her eyes. “Well, let the best woman win. We’ll see if he cares more about you, or if he’d rather ‘love’ me.” “Oh, and by the way,” she added with a smirk. “The Commander told me he likes his women sweet and gentle. You stopped being his type a long time ago.” “This time, you’re going to lose.” I frowned, noticing something was off about her. Her state was unnatural. But before I could react, she pulled a small vial from her pocket and downed the contents in one go. “What are you…” A piercing scream cut me off. “Commander! Help me! Luna drugged me! She’s trying to ruin me!” She violently tore the collar of her own shirt, exposing a wide swath of skin, and shoved the empty vial into my hand. The sound of pounding boots grew closer. Kaelan charged in with his men, only to find Ava, clothes in disarray, sobbing hysterically as she threw herself into his arms. “Commander! Save me! Luna hates me, she… she was going to throw me to those filthy scavengers outside the walls! She said I seduced you and she was going to make me wish I was dead!” Ava trembled, clinging to Kaelan for dear life. “I was wrong, I’ll never go near you again, I’ll leave, I’ll go far away… just make her let me go!” Kaelan’s head snapped up. His eyes, blazing crimson, locked onto me. The look in them could have flayed me alive. “Luna! How dare you…” “I didn’t. You can check the surveil—” “She’s lying!” Ava shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the vial I was now holding by reflex. “That’s a filthy aphrodisiac! She wanted me to be passed around by a dozen men! Commander, she wants to destroy me, she’s trying to drive me to my death!” “I didn’t drug her! She drank it herself! It was a setup! Someone, check the security footage!” I yelled, a wave of fury and panic rising in my chest. The wound in my side tore open again, and the taste of blood flooded my mouth. Kaelan laughed, a sound devoid of any humor. He advanced on me, step by deliberate step. “Enough, Luna. The evidence is in your hand, and look at the state Ava is in! Are you still going to deny it? I never knew you were this venomous!” “I told you, it wasn’t me!” I screamed, despair washing over me like a tidal wave. “Enough!” he roared, cutting me off. The last trace of our shared history vanished from his eyes, replaced by pure, unadulterated loathing and rage. “Restrain her!” Four large soldiers instantly seized me, binding my arms and legs. I struggled wildly. “Kaelan! Watch the footage! It was her—” “It seems you won’t give up until you’re completely broken,” he said, his eyes dark and menacing. He personally took another, unopened vial from Ava’s pocket, wrenched my jaw open, and forced the liquid down my throat. The fluid burned like acid. “You love playing games, don’t you? You wanted to leave so badly?” he sneered, letting go of me and wiping his fingers with a handkerchief as if he’d touched something foul. “Fine. I’ll help you.” The drug hit my system like a firestorm. A wave of heat and debilitating weakness swept through my limbs. “Throw her,” he commanded, his voice flat and cold, “into the eastern combat zone. She’s such a great fighter, isn’t she? She wanted to walk away? Let’s see how far she can ‘walk’ now.” “Luna, this is just you getting a taste of your own medicine. You brought this on yourself.” I was hauled up and thrown into the back of a vehicle like a sack of garbage. As my vision blurred, the last thing I saw was Ava, nestled in his arms, being carried away. The sight consumed the last of my hope. It took Kaelan four hours to help Ava work the drug out of her system. When it was over, the first thing he did was ask his most trusted subordinate. “Luna? Is she back yet?” The man hesitated. “Commander… she… she was drugged and her hands and feet were bound. According to our scouts… they think… she was taken by an enemy patrol…”

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The night before our wedding. After I showered, Liam dried my hair for me, just like he always did. As his fingers brushed through my ends, he let out a soft chuckle. “Elena, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dye your hair. Don’t you think black is a little… boring?” I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “What color do you think would look good?” I asked softly. His hand paused, and a dreamy look washed over his face. “Auburn. It really complements the skin tone.” 1 Cold water dripped from the ends of my hair onto my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I sat up abruptly, dodging his hand. Liam’s breath hitched. He snapped back to reality. Realizing what he had just said, panic flashed in his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. After a heavy silence, he awkwardly changed the subject. “Why did you sit up? Your hair isn’t dry yet.” I lowered my gaze. Even though my hands were trembling uncontrollably behind my back, my voice remained steady. “It’s dry enough.” “It’s getting late. You should go shower.” He hesitated, then stood up obediently. Habitually, he reached out to pat my head. Once he confirmed my hair was mostly dry, he finally left the room, looking relieved. A moment later, the sound of the shower started. Suppressing the nausea rising in my chest, I picked up Liam’s phone with shaking hands and entered the passcode. Five seconds later. The words [Passcode Incorrect] on the screen shattered my last shred of hope. I tried my birthday, Liam’s birthday, our anniversary… nothing worked. [Passcode Incorrect. You have 1 attempt remaining.] The cold, mechanical warning made my world collapse. For years, I never thought to check Liam’s phone. Because until today, his password had always been my birthday. Because he promised me that if I ever wanted to look, I could. But the joke was on me. In the year I trusted him the most, he changed it, and I had no idea. What’s even funnier? Tomorrow is the day Liam and I are supposed to get married. Our custom-made dress and tuxedo are hanging right over there. Just seconds ago, he was nervously confirming the seating chart with me. I didn’t want to believe it. But a voice in my head was screaming: Liam is cheating. I curled up in the corner of the sofa. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold the phone. The water stopped. Liam walked out. Seeing me, he smiled, that gentle, doting look on his face. “Elena, why aren’t you asleep? You said you wanted to be the most beautiful bride tomorrow…” He stood in front of me. But when he saw what I was holding, the words died in his throat. He was close. Close enough that I saw his pupils constrict and the sheer panic flit across his face. I stared at him and extended the phone. “Why did you change your password?” 2 He forced a stiff smile. He took the phone, pretending to be calm. His fingers paused for a second before he skillfully entered a code and unlocked it. “Remember I broke my old one? The sales guy set a random code on this new one. I’ve been so busy I forgot to change it back.” He handed the unlocked phone back to me. “Look. Check whatever you want.” His confidence almost threw me off. Maybe he was betting I wouldn’t actually look. When I reached for it, his hand instinctively flinched back. I pretended not to notice. I took the phone and scrolled, casually making up an excuse. “My phone died. I just remembered I need to call my mom about something.” His contacts were clean. His messages were wiped. Everything was perfect. Too perfect. But his shifting eyes and the sweat on his brow made my heart turn to ice. I suddenly lost the energy to play detective. I handed the phone back. “Never mind. It’s not important. I’ll ask her tomorrow.” He let out a breath he’d been holding. He chuckled. “I thought my wife was getting cold feet and wanted to interrogate me.” I looked him dead in the eye. “If I really wanted to check on you, would you be scared?” He froze, then dropped to one knee in front of me, looking more sincere than I’d ever seen him. “Of course not. We made it this far, Elena. How could I ever betray you?” “I swore to you. If Liam ever hurts Elena, may he lose her forever.” “You know losing you would be worse than the end of the world for me.” I stared at his familiar face, which suddenly felt like a stranger’s. I asked myself: Yeah, how could he? He’s Liam. He’s loved me for eight years. I wanted to lie to myself one last time. But the transaction notification for a $400 charge at a luxury salon was still sitting in my phone notifications, because he used my card. 3 Liam went to the salon today. He spent four hundred dollars. He probably forgot the membership was linked to my number. When the text came this afternoon, I made excuses for him. Maybe he took his mom. Maybe a cousin needed a touch-up. But while he was showering, I made a call. No one in his family had seen him all afternoon. On the busiest day before our wedding, Liam ghosted everyone to take a woman I didn’t know to get her hair done. And she dyed it auburn. It must be a beautiful color. Beautiful enough that Liam, usually oblivious to fashion, suggested I dye my hair the same shade. I closed my eyes, fighting back tears. “Go to sleep,” I whispered hoarsely. “I need to go over some details.” He thought I meant wedding details. He ruffled my hair. “Silly girl, don’t be nervous. Tomorrow will be perfect.” His phone pinged. He glanced at it, locked the screen, and said, “Don’t stay up too late. I need to reply to a work email.” He went to the study and closed the door. Minutes later, he came out changed, car keys in hand, looking apologetic. “Elena, there’s a crisis with the project. I have to go fix it tonight.” “Don’t wait up. I promise I’ll be at the altar on time.” He didn’t wait for a response. He just left. The sound of his engine faded into the night. I looked at the closed door. This kind of “sudden overtime” had happened a few times this year. I used to believe the photos he sent of his office. But tonight, I finally saw the truth. I stood up numbly. I tore down every “Just Married” decoration in the apartment. Then I sat on the floor amidst the ruin and wept until I couldn’t breathe. Liam, there is no tomorrow. 4 Dawn broke through the blinds. I stood up from the wreckage. I washed my face and drove to that salon. While Liam blew up my phone with calls, I sat in the chair, listening to a stylist recommend trendy colors. I glanced at the caller ID and muted it. Thirty minutes later, I sent him my location. When he arrived, he looked like a ghost. He stood at the glass door, trembling, too scared to come in. I stood up. I grabbed the color ring of auburn swatches and walked over to him. I held them up to his face. “Pick one. Which auburn looks the best?” His face went sheet white. His lips quivered, but no sound came out. I raised a brow. “None of these? Should I check another brand?” He tried to reach for me but was too weak. I turned to leave. He grabbed the hem of my shirt. “Elena, I’m sorry.” “But today is the wedding. Everyone is waiting at the hotel.” “Let’s just do the ceremony. Afterwards, I’ll beg for forgiveness. You can hit me, scream at me, whatever you want.” I tilted my head. “Did you really go to work last night?” His hand slipped off my shirt. I smiled. I took the heavy book of color swatches and slammed it into his chest. He didn’t even dodge. I sat back down. He knelt beside my chair, whispering, “Are you feeling better now? We’re running late…” I closed my eyes. I didn’t know where he got the audacity. Did he really think there would still be a wedding? I ignored him. I told the stylist to chop it all off. The long hair I had grown out for a year for this wedding fell to the floor in clumps. Liam watched, paralyzed. When I saw my reflection with a pixie cut, I felt a strange sense of relief. Turns out, short hair suits me best. Things that don’t fit, don’t fit—no matter if you try for a year or eight. I walked out and got into his car. “Drive,” I said. “You need to explain to everyone why there’s no wedding.”

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I’m a gold digger. I dated a trust fund baby who cheated on me like it was his job. Every time I caught him, he transferred me $100,000. I wiped away my tears, took the money, and chose forgiveness. After a year of this lucrative relationship, I had built my first pot of gold just by catching him in the act. Until one day, I overheard him giving advice to his friends. “Girls like Chloe are the easiest. Give her enough cash, and she’ll lick your shoes if you ask her to.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, an excuse to break up. But the trust fund baby didn’t take it well. He cried, he screamed, he threatened to off himself. Word got to his older brother—the cold, ruthless CEO of the family empire. The next day, his brother’s Maybach blocked my driveway. “You think you can play my brother? You’re too green.” “But you can play me. I have way more money.” 1 When I caught Julian hooking up with a D-list actress in his car, I was busy trying to clean red wine off my Birkin bag. This bag was his apology gift from last month, when I found him in a hotel room with an Instagram model. It came with a $100,000 “hush money” transfer so I wouldn’t tattle to his strict, unfeeling older brother. But tonight, at this pretentious charity gala, some clumsy socialite spilled Pinot Noir all over it. My heart was bleeding. I had planned to carry it once, let Julian see it, and then sell it on a luxury consignment site for at least thirty grand. Now, with the stain, the resale value just plummeted. Coming to this gala with him was bad luck. “Miss Davis, admiring your spoils of war?” A whistle sounded behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Julian’s entourage of flat, one-dimensional rich jerks. I ignored them. But high-society brats can’t handle being ignored. One of them stepped right in front of me. He tapped his phone and played a voice note he’d just sent to Julian: “Your girlfriend is looking for you.” Julian’s reply came through instantly, loud enough for everyone to hear. His voice was breathy, shaky, clearly distracted. “Don’t worry about it… uh… Chloe is a gold digger, she’s easy… pay her enough and she’ll lick my shoes…” The audio was filled with wet, sticky sounds and heavy breathing. Someone patted my shoulder. “Check the parking garage. Your boy Julian isn’t known for his stamina. He’ll be done soon.” I sighed. More work for me. Everyone looked down on Julian, and honestly, he made it easy. I walked down to the garage. Three minutes later, I found his car. He was already pulling up his pants, panting heavily. I snapped a photo. Even through the tinted window, I could see his flushed face and sweaty hair. The actress looked perfectly fine, though. She was already fixing her makeup, looking bored. I recognized her. She was famous for her elf-like beauty and her zombie-like acting skills. Earlier at the gala, I saw them making eyes at each other. Who knew he couldn’t even wait until the afterparty? I knocked on the window. Julian jumped. His handsome, boyish face contorted in shock. I don’t know why he was surprised. Did someone else unzip his pants for him? “Chloe? What are you doing here?” “Need an explanation?” I waved my phone, showing him the picture I just took. He scrambled out of the car, grabbing my wrist. His palm was clammy. “Chloe, listen to me.” I nodded, pulling my hand away. “I’m listening.” He froze. After a long, awkward silence, he managed to squeak out, “I was drunk.” It took him so long to come up with that excuse that the actress had time to fully dress, touch up her lipstick, and lean against the car, smirking at us. Julian was at a loss for words. He pulled out his phone and started tapping frantically. “Chloe, don’t be mad. I’m transferring you money. Go buy a bag, or jewelry… or go on a trip…” Suddenly, I felt exhausted. I did a quick mental calculation of my bank account balance. Yeah. It was time to be done with this. 2 To be fair, Julian did save me once. When we met, I was working at a car wash. To avoid the sexual harassment from my male coworkers, I started dressing like a potato sack on my second day. I even bought ugly, thick-rimmed glasses. But I didn’t mention… I’m objectively beautiful. And specifically poor. A pretty girl with no money is like a child holding gold in a busy market. You can try to hide, but the predators will always find you. The day Julian showed up, my coworkers had “accidentally” sprayed me with a high-pressure hose. I was soaked. My white t-shirt was transparent under my apron. They were laughing, telling me to just take it off. One of them reached out and pinched my cheek. “So you’re not wearing makeup? Your skin is so white…” I was calculating if my last $400 would cover the bail money if I punched him. That’s when Julian honked. His car had been washed and parked nearby. I don’t know how long he sat there watching. His voice was impatient. “Who washed this? The interior is still damp.” My coworkers pushed me forward. “Sorry, sir! The new girl is an idiot. She’ll fix it.” I shook the water off my arms. I hesitated by his car door, wondering if I should change first so I wouldn’t ruin his Italian leather seats. Julian chuckled softly. He leaned down, close to my face. “You shake off water like a puppy.” I froze, unsure if he was mocking me. Then his smile vanished. He reached into the back seat and handed me a shopping bag. It was a brand-name outfit, tags still on. “Go change. They’re pranking you. It’s mean.” When I didn’t take it, he scratched his head, looking embarrassed. “My ex-girlfriend left it. I haven’t even given it to her yet. Don’t worry, I’m not a creep.” By the time I changed and came back, he was gone. I got his number from the client registry. The next day, I gathered my courage and texted him. I thanked him for speaking up and told him I’d washed and sanitized the clothes if he wanted them back. Originally, I wanted to pay him for them to show I had a backbone. Then I looked up the price of the dress. It cost more than I made in a year. So, returning them was Plan B. Julian replied quickly. He asked to meet at a ridiculously expensive coffee shop near the university. We met a few times after that. I confirmed what I suspected: his family was loaded. Like, “old money, trust fund, never worked a day in his life” loaded. Within a month, he got me a job as a librarian at the university. No creepy coworkers. Just stressed-out students fueled by caffeine. Three months later, we were officially dating. I drove Julian’s new sports car back to the car wash just to be petty. I bossed my old coworkers around. I thought it would feel amazing. And yeah, it did. For a minute. But after the rush of revenge faded, their looks of suspicion and judgment made me feel empty again. I was sitting in someone else’s car, wearing someone else’s wealth like a costume. Was this really what I wanted? 3 Six months into dating, I told Julian I wanted to go to school. My parents were village delinquents who had me out of wedlock. When I was five, they left for the city to find work, taking my baby brother and the family dog. My dad said the city was dangerous, too many cars. So I stayed in the village to “enjoy life.” I grew up feral, eating at neighbors’ houses because I was cute and had a sweet mouth. When I was eighteen, the village matchmaker tried to set me up with the local idiot who drooled for eight hours a day. That night, I packed a bag and ran to the city. Then I met Julian. Julian, who had been in elite private schools since birth, couldn’t understand why anyone would beg to study. Just like he couldn’t understand how eight people lived in my old 100-square-foot dorm room. But I was grateful for his ignorance. Our worlds were so different that I was a novelty to him. He thought my desire for education was “adorable.” He promised that if I passed the IELTS exam, he’d pay for me to study abroad. I was ecstatic. I started self-studying. I had zero foundation, but I was smart and desperate. I memorized vocabulary words while we were on dates. Julian got annoyed watching me struggle with flashcards, so he paid for an intensive, closed-camp IELTS course. Two months. At first, he called me eight times a day. He reported his every move. He whispered sweet nothings that made my nineteen-year-old heart race. I fantasized about our future. I thought, maybe I couldn’t match his wealth, but I could match his education. Once I got my degree, I’d get a good job. I wouldn’t need him to be my safety net. But two weeks in, the calls stopped. He got “busy.” His schedule became vague. Sometimes he said he loved me; sometimes he disappeared for days. When I finally finished the course, he picked me up with a beaming smile. His left ear was pierced with a row of black studs. The holes were red and inflamed. I found out later that during that month, he fell for an edgy girl who loved piercings and tattoos. He punched holes in his body just to get close to her. The girl got annoyed and called me. “Watch your boyfriend. He’s not loyal.” I confronted Julian, crying. It was pathetic, but I couldn’t stop. The fear of being abandoned, of losing my lifeline, overwhelmed me. I thought he was my Prince Charming. He took me to French restaurants where I couldn’t read the menu. Then, seeing my confusion, he drove me to his penthouse and cooked me a simple meal with his own hands. We washed dishes together. In his 5,000-square-foot apartment, I felt… at home. But the dream ended. I realized this wasn’t my home. There was no prince. I broke up with him. I moved out of his penthouse and into a tiny room in a shared apartment. Unexpectedly, Julian begged me to stay. He cried, he knelt, he waited outside the library every day. He sent massive bouquets of flowers to my cramped room. When I ignored him for a month, he started drinking. That’s when his famous older brother found me. 4 “Get back together with Julian.” Sebastian Sterling was a classic rich authoritarian. He loved giving orders. I thought he was insane. “Your brother cheated on me. Who are you to tell me what to do with my relationship?” Sebastian leaned back in his leather chair, looking at a file on his desk. My file. His expression was bored. Like he was watching a toddler throw a tantrum. “My brother is depressed and drinking himself to death because of you. I don’t like that.” “Then teach your brother how to behave.” I stood up to leave. His bodyguards blocked the door. “You want to study abroad, right? Do you have the money?” Sebastian asked coldly. I didn’t. But I could earn it. “I’ll pay for your tuition.” I stared at this man. He was better looking than Julian, but colder. Dangerous. “Just act. Keep him happy. Stop him from acting like a suicidal teenager.” “You’re with him for the money anyway. I’ll give you money. He has a short attention span. No relationship lasts more than a year. When he gets bored, you can leave.” When I didn’t speak, Sebastian added, “Don’t worry. He won’t cling to you forever. I’ll be introducing him to women of appropriate status soon.” “Appropriate status.” Those two words landed on my head like a brick. Sebastian was eight years older than Julian. Their father died young, so Sebastian took over the empire early. He was used to being the patriarch. He knew about me, but he had watched from his high tower, mocking us. To him, this was just his naive little brother playing house with a greedy gold digger. The humiliation stung. I wanted to scream that I wasn’t just in it for the money. Julian had money, but it was his brother’s money. The most he ever spent on me was that IELTS course that led to our breakup. Rich people flaunting their wallets is just low-cost mating behavior. Julian was young, but he knew the game. I straightened my spine and looked Sebastian in the eye. I tried to match his rudeness. Then I forced a smile. A transactional smile. “How much?”

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I got drunk and texted my ex-boyfriend. [Unblock me! Right now!] He started typing… [How many burner numbers do you have…] A moment later, a WeChat notification popped up. VIP Contact (Do Not Answer): [Drunk again?] The alcohol gave me courage. I hesitated for only a few seconds. Just as I hit send, an arm reached around my shoulder. A glass clinked against mine. My eyes traveled up a muscular arm to a handsome face. The stranger leaned in, whispering in my ear. His messy hair tickled my cheek. I completely missed the incoming messages… VIP Contact (Do Not Answer): [Am I your favorite drinking game? You only want me when you’re wasted?] VIP Contact (Do Not Answer): [I was your boyfriend, not your call boy.] … VIP Contact (Do Not Answer): [The usual spot? I’m coming to get you.] … VIP Contact (Do Not Answer): [?] VIP Contact (Do Not Answer): [Answer me!] VIP Contact (Do Not Answer): [Sarah, if you dare kiss some random guy, don’t ever text me again!] VIP Contact (Do Not Answer): [Stay right there! I’m almost there!] 1 I was squatting in a dark corner outside the bar. Fifteen minutes ago, I texted my cousin to come pick me up. I was dozing off. “You are literally the bane of my existence.” I looked up. My cousin, Leo, stared down at me with pure exasperation. I grinned stupidly at him. He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck, then bent down and poked my forehead. “Why didn’t you harass your ex this time?” I swatted his hand away, remembering my failed attempt to flirt with Liam. I pouted. “He ignored me!” Leo extended a hand to help me up. His grin was evil. “So, is it finally over for real this time?” I wanted to curse him out, but then I saw a blurry figure standing behind him. I used Leo to pull myself up, then shoved him aside. Leo stumbled. “Are you trying to kill me, Sarah?” I moved toward the figure. I looked left, right, and then reached out to touch his face. I completely ignored Liam’s dark expression. Liam grabbed my wandering hand. Behind me, Leo laughed. “Well, well, look who it is.” I covered Liam’s mouth with my hand. “Shh.” I tried to drag Liam away, but my legs were jelly. He caught me by the waist before I could faceplant. “Where are we going? My place?” Leo asked. “No,” I snapped, annoyed by his voice. “Go home.” I turned to Liam. “Piggyback. Now.” Liam frowned. He looked at me, then at Leo, then back at me. Resigned, he crouched down in front of me. We walked away from the bar street. I buried my face in Liam’s neck. “Why didn’t you text me back?” He turned his head slightly. I couldn’t see his face. His voice was muffled. “I did. You were probably too busy kissing some guy.” I struggled to reach my phone in my pocket. “Stop moving!” he ordered. I pouted and tightened my arms around his neck. “If I was kissing a guy, I wouldn’t be looking for you.” Liam turned his head fully. Our noses touched. He scoffed. His warm breath brushed my cheek. “That guy was pretty generous with his wallet.” Who? Leo? Yeah, he has a sharp tongue, but he’s always spoiled me. “Yeah, he’s always been generous.” Liam laughed bitterly. “Sarah, you really have no heart.” 2 Messy room. Tangled limbs. I pushed a heavy arm off me. I opened my eyes to see Liam sleeping. Without thinking, I traced the line of his brow. He twitched, then instinctively snuggled closer into my embrace. I froze. Then, I carefully slid out of bed. My hand had just touched the doorknob when— “Leaving without a word again?” I didn’t feel embarrassed at being caught. I turned and leaned against the door, watching him. Liam propped himself up on one arm. The sheet fell, revealing his chest. My eyes darkened. “Do you want me to tuck you in?” “We aren’t in that kind of relationship anymore.” He stared at me intensely. I didn’t look away. I smiled. His hair was a mess. His voice was lazy, morning-rough. “So what are we?” I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t want to answer. I turned the handle to escape. Liam was across the room in a second. He slammed the door shut with one hand, trapping me. He caged me in his arms. “Even a call boy gets paid. I get nothing?” His voice vibrated above my head. I thought for a moment, then stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. The touch lasted a second. Liam’s cool hand wrapped around my neck. He kissed me, stealing my breath. His desperate gasps filled the small space. “Sarah, this is toxic. No couple breaks up and keeps sleeping together like this.” His eyes were pleading. I smirked. “I think it’s working out fine. If you think it’s toxic, don’t unblock me next time.” Liam watched helplessly as I pried his fingers off one by one. I said each word clearly. “I used to think you were the only one for me, too.” He stood frozen. I left without looking back. Leo was waiting by the car, arms crossed. He took my bag as I walked to the passenger side. “Why torture yourself?” I looked at him over the hood of the car. I laughed coldly. “I can’t handle his mother. Marrying into that family would be hell.” Leo frowned but said nothing. My hand paused on the door handle. I met Liam’s gaze across the parking lot. 3 I never thought I’d be living in a cliché romance novel. The elegant woman in front of me told me… My boyfriend, the one working part-time jobs, was the heir to the massive Pei Corporation. She didn’t say much else. But her eyes said everything. Liam came home from work and collapsed into my arms. “So tired.” I stroked his hair. “Liam, are you hiding something from me?” I felt him stiffen. “Yes. I haven’t told you about my family.” I bit my lip, tracing the shell of his ear. “I don’t think secrets are inherently bad in a relationship. I allow you your secrets.” Liam looked up. Seeing I wasn’t angry, he relaxed. “I’m sorry. I hate that life. That’s why I never brought it up.” Seeing him so careful broke my heart. But the image of his mother’s condescending face flashed in my mind. I looked away, forcing a smile. “I never thought the Prince and Cinderella story was for me. And there are some decisions I don’t want to make after your mother throws a check in my face.” Liam’s voice trembled. “You’re breaking up with me?” I nodded. He grabbed my hand tightly. “No. Don’t break up with me.” Tears fell from his eyes without warning. “It’s my fault…” I shook my head, interrupting him. “It’s not your fault.” I wiped his tears. We looked at each other in silence. “You know what? The way your mother looked at me… it was humiliating.” “I’ll explain to her.” I buried my face in his chest. His heart was beating so fast. The pain in my own chest tried to sway my decision. Liam wrapped his arms around my waist, holding on for dear life. “Explain what? That I’m not a gold digger? For a second, I wished I was. Then I could happily take the check and leave.” He kissed the top of my head. “Don’t say that. This is all because of me.” “But my upbringing, my life, and… my love for you, won’t let me do that.” I felt him shaking. I pulled away. He tried to grab my hand, but missed. I cupped his face, forcing him to look at me. “Liam, I’m not leaving because you hid things from me. It’s the gap between us. I don’t have the courage to face your family with you. I don’t want to compromise myself. I don’t want a marriage full of war. I love you, but I don’t want to lose myself.” Our breakup was dignified. I remember the last time I saw him. His mother came with a fleet of cars to take him away. I stood in the crowd. Surrounded by whispers of awe and hidden mockery aimed at me. 4 The termination letter slammed onto the desk. My boss, Mr. Wang, pushed up his glasses. “They said our aesthetic is outdated. Doesn’t fit their ‘high-end’ positioning.” The Pei Corporation logo hurt my eyes. I pushed the file back, smiling carelessly. “Got it. Good thing I’m working on that streetwear project anyway.” The computer clock read 17:45. Mojito Bar: Buy one get one free Long Island Iced Teas after 8 PM. Three drinks down. Leo’s trench coat settled over my shoulders, smelling of the night air. He glanced at the bar. “Drinking this fast? You want a hole in your stomach?” I downed the rest of my glass. “You know how Liam handled guys who bullied me in school? He cornered them in the equipment room and beat them with a badminton racket for thirty minutes.” I swirled the ice in my empty glass. Leo snatched the glass away. He wiped a drop of alcohol from my lip with a wet wipe, rough as always. “So his mom beats your company, and you hide here abusing yourself?” Leo pointed to a booth nearby. “See that guy in the silver suit? Every time I pick you up, he’s there. Guess who pays him to watch you?” I pulled Leo’s coat off and threw it on the chair. “Let him watch.” My phone lit up on the bar. The lock screen was Liam’s new profile picture. Our three-legged orange cat. I laughed silently. I dragged his number into the block list. The red ‘Blocked’ notification popped up. “Who are you actually punishing?” Leo asked. Just as the fourth drink arrived, a commotion started at the next table. A guy with bleached hair walked up to me. “Miss, can I buy you a drink?” Before I could speak, Leo put his arm around me. “She’s taken.” The guy didn’t leave. He set his drink down on the bar. “Just making friends. No harm, right?” A familiar voice cut through the noise from the shadows. “Yes, harm.” Liam appeared out of nowhere. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sweat on his forehead. He shoved the guy aside and stood in front of me. He radiated danger. “She’s my girlfriend.” The guy looked Liam up and down and sneered. “Girlfriend? Looks like she has more than one protector tonight.”

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My brother and his wife were known throughout the community as the perfect couple. They even waited ten years to have children, just for me. My parents died when I was eight. They took me in without hesitation, raised me, and put me through school. To give me peace of mind, they even swore in front of my parents’ grave that they wouldn’t consider having children until I got into college. But on the day I graduated from college, on my nephew’s third birthday, I kicked him into a raging river. His body was never found. I also threw my six-month-old niece from a high-rise balcony. As for the brother and sister-in-law who treated me like the apple of their eye? I poisoned their dinner and watched coldly as they ate it. My sister-in-law survived by a thread because she ate less and was rushed to the hospital by a neighbor. My brother died on the way to the emergency room. The neighbors stared at me like I was a monster, cursing me for having no conscience. I remained unmoved, quietly waiting for the police to arrive. 1 The screams rising one after another sounded particularly piercing in the quiet night. Mrs. Higgins, the next-door neighbor, was the first to rush in. She let out a shriek when she saw my brother and sister-in-law lying on the floor. Simultaneously, the approaching sirens pierced the night sky. “Nora! What did you do to them?” Mrs. Higgins’ hand trembled as she pointed at me, then threw herself onto my sister-in-law. “Hold on, the ambulance is coming!” Other neighbors rushed over upon hearing the news, blocking the doorway, pointing fingers at me. Two police officers pushed through the crowd and walked in, seeing the two people lying on the floor. “You did this? They are your family, why would you do this?” My expression didn’t change as I admitted it directly: “That’s right, I killed them.” Hearing this, the neighbors’ faces changed, looking at me with horror. Someone couldn’t control their emotions and questioned me: “Why on earth would you do this! After your parents died, David and Sarah took you into their home. Afraid you’d feel mistreated, they refused to have children for ten years after getting married.” “When you first arrived, you fell seriously ill. Your sister-in-law worried the hospital food wasn’t nutritious enough, so she ran home three times a day to cook and make soup for you. I can’t believe they raised an ungrateful wretch like you who bites the hand that feeds her.” As I was taken away by the police, the neighbors gathered at the door spat at me, calling me a murderer, an animal. In the interrogation room, the young officer slammed the table for the fiftieth time. He asked angrily: “Why did you kill them?” “I already told you, to set them free~” Seeing me give the same answer, he grabbed the taser beside him and rushed up to me. “Starting when you were eight, your brother and sister-in-law raised you and put you through school. Did all your education go to the dogs? They were your family, your benefactors, how could you be so cruel?” “Your niece was only six months old, she didn’t even get a chance to see this beautiful world~” I leaned back in the chair indifferently, smiling at him. “That’s exactly why I sent the whole family on their way together. Consider it repaying them.” “Besides, what’s there to see in this world? Dying early means reincarnating early, isn’t that better!” “How can you still smile after hurting such small children!” Just as the taser was about to touch me, the older detective beside him stopped him. “Your brother had stomach cancer, but to pay for your tuition, he never went to the hospital once!” I was a bit surprised, looking innocent. “I didn’t know that. But it doesn’t matter, everyone dies eventually. Isn’t it better to be free from pain sooner?” “And your nephew, he had congenital heart disease. To save money, your brother and sister-in-law didn’t take him for surgery!” I remained unmoved, “I didn’t decide that either? Besides, heart disease can’t be cured, why spend the money~” He was so angry he raised the taser high, glaring at me. “Don’t do anything rash.” Clang! He threw the taser violently. Just as he was about to walk out the door, I suddenly spoke. “Do you really want to know the reason?” He turned around suddenly, looking at me and nodding. “I want some walnut cookies from Joe’s Bakery!” “You’re playing me!” The young officer’s anticipation instantly turned into rage. “I can’t interrogate her, this person is impossible!” Bang! He slammed the door and left. Well, that was easy. Young people really have a temper. 2 The next day, the young officer was replaced. He held a box of walnut cookies from Joe’s Bakery and handed it over. “Bought these for you.” I looked up at him, a little surprised. It was my college classmate. “Long time no see, Nora!” I didn’t expect him to start working here right after graduation. And I was the prisoner he was interrogating. “Ethan, congratulations, you have a bright future ahead~” The old detective saw we knew each other and stayed silent on the side. “Can you tell me why?” His tone was as gentle as ever. I looked at him and the walnut cookies in front of me, lost in thought. He was the sunshine of our class, an existence I could never reach. On my way back to the dorm from a part-time job in college, I was stopped by two thugs. He was the one who passed by and saved me. He also helped me out of trouble many times. He was one of my few friends in college. “I don’t want walnut cookies anymore~ I want the spicy soup from the place at the crossroads!” “I’ll go buy it!” Watching Ethan leave, the old detective spoke. “You went to the same university as him, why destroy your future like this?” His eyes were full of pity. “Everyone dies, sooner or later~” But he refused to give up, staring at me with sharp eyes: “Every action has a consequence. If you confess honestly, maybe you can get a reduced sentence!” “Reduced sentence?” I couldn’t help but sneer: “Intentional homicide? Reduced sentence? Do you take me for a fool?” The room suddenly became very quiet. Ethan returned half an hour later. Looking at the steaming spicy soup, I took a sip. Pfft. I pushed it forward, “I don’t want to drink it anymore.” “What do you want to eat? I’ll go buy it for you!” Ethan gently wiped up the spilled soup and cleaned up. I listed several snacks in a row, and Ethan walked out without hesitation. When he returned, besides the snacks in his hand, there was someone following him. My college roommate, Mia. Seeing me, her tears immediately flowed. Still such a crybaby. “Nora, you are not this kind of person at all! I don’t believe you would kill anyone, let alone your brother’s entire family of four.” She hugged me, crying uncontrollably. “Tell them quickly, there must be a hidden story here, right!” I stared at the old detective behind them. “Since you could call her over, you’ve investigated me thoroughly?” “But I still say the same thing, killing them was to set them free. After all, dying sooner or later is the same, and it saves social resources~” I raised my hand and gently patted Mia. “Stop crying, you won’t be pretty if you keep crying like this!” Her face was pale, gripping my hand tightly. “I don’t believe it, you are not this kind of person!” “The facts are what they are, believe it or not.” 3 Mia took out her phone and held it out to me. “This is when we came back from part-time jobs, you said you wanted to earn money to treat your nephew’s illness, and wanted to take your brother’s family to the beach.” “And every month you bought lots of toys to send home. Not only that, but you also sent all the money you earned from part-time jobs to your brother and sister-in-law.” “I saw your love for them with my own eyes… You wouldn’t do this? Right!” Her phone played the future she and I had imagined together. I was stunned, then closed my eyes and stopped talking. Before Mia left, she cried and begged me to speak up. “Your case is heinous, public opinion is huge, everyone is applying pressure…” Watching Mia leave, I let out a long sigh of relief. “You win, I’m willing to tell the truth. But before I speak, I want to see my sister-in-law.” The old detective immediately went to arrange it. I saw my sister-in-law again in the hospital. Although she survived, the multi-organ failure was irreversible. She was currently confined to a wheelchair. Seeing me, she launched into a tirade of abuse. “All these years, even a dog would know to wag its tail at me. But raising you for over ten years, we raised a murderer!” She coughed violently in agitation, instantly attracting a crowd of onlookers. Seeing the crowd, she seemed to open the floodgates. “To put you through school, we didn’t dare ask for leave even when sick, still insisting on working. Afraid you’d be bullied at school, we picked you up and dropped you off every day from elementary school to high school, rain or shine!” The crowd gasped, “Pick up and drop off even in high school? They really cherished her!” Ignoring the crowd, Sarah continued. “When you were a sophomore in high school, to help you drive away that thug, your brother was stabbed by him and lay in the hospital for a month!” The crowd looked at me as if they wanted to swallow me alive. I stood calmly in place, continuing to listen to her. “Since your nephew was born, afraid you’d be unhappy, we specially moved to a rental near your university.” “Your brother even said he’d buy you a car for your birthday!” “But you didn’t even spare a six-month-old baby, you actually threw her off the balcony!” After saying all this in one breath, Sarah couldn’t help but cry loudly. The crowd pointed at me. “Such a good brother and sister-in-law, to raise such an ungrateful sister!” Someone spat at me. “Pah, why don’t you die! Truly a scourge that lasts a thousand years!” For a moment, I was hated by the onlookers. If not for the police blocking them, I probably would have been drowned in the crowd’s spit. 4 Seeing me standing opposite, showing no sign of admitting my mistake. An old man walked out of the crowd and strode up to me. He raised his cane and hit me. “I’m not afraid of going to jail, I’m this old anyway. An animal like you deserves to be beaten to death!” Saying that, he hit me harder. Thump thump, hitting my body. I looked at him with an unchanged expression. I hadn’t done anything to him, but because of Sarah’s words, I took this beating. The police didn’t dare be rough because of the old man, only persuading from the side. He was creeped out by my stare, grunted, and walked away. Sarah cried even louder. “Your nephew looked forward to your return every day, I didn’t expect you, heartless wretch, to throw him into the river, leaving no bones~” “Beat her to death, beat her to death, such an animal is a waste of resources alive.” The hospital security hurried over and barely stopped the angry crowd. Sarah cried uncontrollably, two older women next to her went to comfort her. “My husband was your own brother. When your parents died, other relatives didn’t want to care. We took you home and cherished you for more than ten years.” “If there was anything good at home, it was all for you. It was the same after your nephew and niece were born, how could you be so ruthless?” Thinking of my brother’s tragic death, she looked at me with vicious eyes. The older woman next to her spat at me. “You really are a demon! To hurt your closest kin~ People like you must die.” “Yes, people like this must die.” The police standing next to me looked at the crowd nervously. Afraid that the next second they would rush up and tear me apart. In this tense atmosphere, I suddenly laughed out loud. “Sarah, your ability to talk nonsense is still so amazing!” Sarah’s face turned pale, she stopped crying and asked me back. “Did you poison our food?” I nodded and admitted: “It was me.” “The facts are right in front of us, where did I talk nonsense? I didn’t expect you to treat us like this. If I had known… we shouldn’t have brought you home in the first place.” She sighed deeply, her tone resentful. Someone came up and grabbed my hair, pressing me to the ground. Fortunately, Ethan reacted quickly and stopped it immediately, otherwise they would definitely have beaten me to death.

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Big news! The rookie genius jungler, Ace, appeared on his live stream looking heartbroken. His eyes were red, implying he had just been dumped. But at the same time, I heard his thoughts through the screen: 【Babe sent a message about getting back together. It’s over. Is this for her ex?】 【Why did she send it to me by mistake?】 【I haven’t even confessed yet! How can they get back together?!】 【Boo hoo, what should I do!】 At this moment, I looked at the message I just sent to my gaming buddy and fell into deep thought… 1 I’m a popular actress. But no one knows. I’m also an internet-addicted girl. Not playing games feels worse than death. Not only that, I’m a keyboard warrior. Like right now… “What are you pretending for? Sprinkling rice on the keyboard and letting a chicken peck at it would play better than you.” “Keep clicking surrender, are you French?” “Even a donkey would kneel and call you master when seeing you play. Is your ancestral grave decorated with trash?” I stared at our jungler’s record. 0-10. I was seeing red. Mirror is my favorite hero. I felt like he was desecrating it! I turned on the mic. I screamed and shouted continuously for five minutes. Just as I took a deep breath, preparing to start round two, a clear, calm male voice suddenly came through the channel: “Sorry, my cousin was playing just now.” “Don’t worry. With me here, we can win.” I laughed angrily. Blaming the cousin for a bad record? Classic. I sneered: “Why don’t you say an 80-year-old man with a cane was playing?” “So good at shifting blame, it’s a pity you’re not a chef, buddy.” As soon as I finished speaking, the jungler suddenly rushed into the crowd. I was just about to mock him for overestimating himself. But the Mirror he controlled smoothly unleashed a combo. Flash. Slash. What?? Triple kill? My breath caught in my throat. The jungler said helplessly: “Stop talking. It’s noisy.” No way, is this kid for real? I intended to continue cursing. But Mirror unleashed another set of bush ambush operations that left me speechless… The second half of the game completely became the jungler’s personal show. The record went from 0-10 to 20-10. Until the enemy crystal shattered. I hadn’t even reacted yet. We won? Just like that? 2 I dazedly clicked into the results page. A notification popped up immediately: [‘Stealing the Moon’ requests to add you as a friend.] I quickly clicked accept. Understood. I completely understood! This jungler wants more. He wants to continue the flame war with me, right? I’ve never been afraid of anyone when it comes to trash talking! But seeing his message, I was stunned. [My cousin broke his arm, so he didn’t play well.] [I apologize to you on his behalf.] I sat up abruptly in bed. I wished I could slap myself a few times. I’m really not human! I typed furiously: [Sorry, I didn’t know it was like that, I was offensive…] The other side sent a voice message. A super distinct, squeaky elementary school voice. He even sniffled: “It’s okay sister, I’m just too bad.” I froze. I’m done for. I actually scolded a child until he cried! I felt terribly guilty and reflected deeply. I quickly apologized: [Actually, I have a foul mouth.] [How about I compensate you with some money? Kid, stop crying okay?] [Add me, sister will treat you to snacks and boba tea. Don’t be mad at sister.] [Do you want the Hellfire skin? Sister will gift it to you.] I sent my contact information. The other side was silent for a long time before saying: [Is the profile picture you?] My WeChat profile picture has always been a photo of me when I was little. A chubby toddler look, very different from the glamorous actress I am now. I guessed he wouldn’t recognize my true identity based on this photo. So I replied calmly: [Yes, why?] The other side sent a voice message. It changed back to that clear, mature male voice: “Nothing, just think it’s quite cute.” “My cousin has been comforted, he went home.” “Are you still playing? I’ll carry you.” Eh? Why does it feel like this person’s voice became even nicer? But I didn’t think much of it. [OK, let’s duo.] 3 ‘Stealing the Moon’ is too skilled!! One afternoon. He carried me to win 10 games straight. We didn’t lose a single one. And he was incredibly considerate. I played mid, he gave me the blue buff. I played marksman, he fed me kills. I laughed until my face hurt. Hahaha, truly refreshing! I never thought I would meet such a compatible gaming buddy! For the next month, continuously, as soon as I finished filming on set, I couldn’t wait to invite ‘Stealing the Moon’ to play. He responded to every request. Our dialogue was also extremely concise. [Get on.] [Coming.] When the season was about to end, both ‘Stealing the Moon’ and I successfully promoted to high ranks. Hehe. I even changed my ID to ‘Hiding the Sun’. Can’t help it. Duo gaming buddies must have chemistry. IDs must be matching too. 4 Sigh. Pity I can’t play games happily all the time. I still have to work hard to make money. Filming had entered the final stage. I was so busy that I didn’t have time to log in for several days. Until the day we wrapped. I collapsed in the lounge exhausted. Only then did I have time to check my phone. ‘Stealing the Moon’ asked me: [Game?] Women have those difficult days every month. I clutched my stomach and rolled over: [No, busy with work all day, so tired.] [And my stomach hurts, no energy to play.] ‘Stealing the Moon’ was still brief: [Got it, give me an address.] I typed a question mark. But I still sent the location. I was still in the mood to joke: [Don’t tell me you want to come find me offline for duo?] [This offline meeting move is too ruthless. Pity I’m in the middle of nowhere.] [Hehe, you can’t find me.] ‘Stealing the Moon’ sent a cute cat emoji. Stolen from me. Copycat. But soon, I knew why he wanted my address. The delivery guy grabbed the director’s megaphone and shouted on set: “Who is ‘Hiding the Sun’?!” “Your delivery is here!” I never thought having this ID read out in public could be so shameful. I fled in panic. I only dared to instruct my assistant to get it. The bag weighed at least five pounds. Boba tea, strawberry cake, crystal shrimp dumplings, stomach medicine, Ibuprofen… Everything one could think of. I dazedly took a photo for ‘Stealing the Moon’: [You bought this?] [Yeah. Rest well. Health is more important than games.] 5 After returning home from the set, my agent mercifully gave me a break. I came alive again. And the game just started a new season. I was itching to rank up. But ‘Stealing the Moon’ has been acting weird these few days. Always taking a long time to reply. Before, he replied instantly. And he always refused when I asked him to play. [Get on.] [Overtime tonight, next time.] … [Game?] [Busy recently, not much time.] … [Miss you, wanna duo.] [Sorry, still have something to do today.] I looked at the screen and sighed deeply. The latest chat was already five days ago. Does he think playing with me is boring now? So he makes excuses to reject me? I lay bored on the bed playing with my phone. Suddenly a notification popped up: [KTG Team – Ace, whom you follow closely, has started streaming.] 6 Melancholy swept away. I clicked into the stream happily. I’m a long-time fan of Ace! Since he started playing professionally, I’ve been following him. Handsome, skilled. Who wouldn’t like such a player! This year’s Spring Split, Ace played as the starting jungler for the first time and amazed everyone. Top-tier strategy plus superb mechanics. He became the new top jungler in the esports circle in one fell swoop. This is his first stream after the competition ended. On camera, Ace’s thin lips were tightly pursed, his side profile cold and hard. He had an air of aloofness pushing people thousands of miles away. I waved my hand and sent 10 Carnivals directly. [Bad mood today?] Ace looked up at the screen and said lightly: “Thanks to ‘Melting Ace into My Heart’ for the gift.” “Not in a bad mood, just a bit tired from overtime.” I didn’t speak. I just kept spamming gifts. I understand. The best comfort for overtime is money. Comments floated across the stream: [The top donor’s gifts must add up to 100k! Sugar mommy, hungry, feed me!] [You kid! Streaming equals overtime, right? We are redundant, understood.] [Feels like Little Ace is indeed tired recently. Competitions and training at the base, plus making up streaming hours at the end of the month.] Ace didn’t look at the comments anymore. Head down, he started a game. He picked his signature hero, Mirror. Operations flowing like water. He controlled the rhythm of the whole field from the start. Invading, killing, tower diving. The combos were smooth as silk. I watched with hearts in my eyes. But another person’s figure appeared in my mind.

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My boyfriend, Nate, stepped in to stop a fight between his best friend and his girlfriend. But he didn’t just break it up. He shielded the girl behind him and grabbed his best friend by the collar, shaking him. “I only let you have her because you promised to treat her right! If you can’t take care of her, then give her back to me!” Standing in the doorway, I froze. 1 On the night of our three-year anniversary, Nate brought a girl home. I was setting up the candles and wine when I saw her. She had a messy bun, a tear-streaked face, and was wrapped in Nate’s oversized suit jacket. She looked frail, like a wounded bird. She glanced at me, wiped her tears quickly, and looked down as if she was scared. “Chloe, I’m so sorry to bother you again.” I frowned instinctively and looked at Nate. He turned his face away, avoiding my gaze. This was the third time this month Sarah had ended up in our apartment. Nate and I had been together since high school. Our families were similar in status, and we were practically engaged, just waiting to graduate. Nate hated dorm life, so his parents bought this luxury apartment for us. Sarah was Nate’s childhood friend and also dating his best friend, Jason. Recently, Sarah and Jason had been fighting constantly. Jason’s interest in Sarah had faded after the chase. His playboy habits returned, and he started treating her like an accessory he was bored with—calling her plain, boring, and clingy. When he was in a bad mood, he’d scream at her or throw her stuff out on the street. At first, Nate and I felt bad for her. We’d go over, calm things down, and let her stay with us. But it was becoming a habit. I had already told Nate: Next time, give her money for a hotel. Do not bring her here. He had agreed. Yet here she was. Seeing my silence, Sarah’s eyes turned red. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I saw lipstick on Jason’s shirt and asked about it. He flipped out, said I was controlling, pinched me, and told me to get lost…” Fear lingered in her eyes, but my sympathy was running dry. I had told her to break up with Jason a dozen times. She always made excuses. She chose to stay. There was nothing more I could do. “Chloe, can I stay here tonight? Nate said I could take the guest room…” I looked at Nate. His jaw was set. “Fine,” I said coolly. “You can stay.” 2 Our anniversary dinner was ruined. Sarah sat on the couch crying the entire time. Nate, who usually had zero patience for drama, sat beside her, listening intently and handing her tissues. By the time Sarah finally went to the guest room, the food was cold and congealed. Inedible. Nate and I fought. “We agreed. Money for a hotel. Why is she here?” I didn’t get it. Nate was proud, even a bit arrogant. He hated getting involved in other people’s messy lives. Why was he so invested in Sarah? Nate frowned. “You’re a girl, Chloe. Can’t you have some empathy? Sarah has no family here. Who else can she turn to?” He realized his tone was harsh and sighed, hugging me from behind. “I’m sorry, babe. I wasn’t thinking. Jason is a scumbag. Sarah was bruised all over when I got there. He threw her out with nothing. I couldn’t just leave her. “A hotel isn’t safe for a girl alone in that state. Just this once. I promise, never again. Okay?” I stared out the window, silent. Nate’s hand slid under my silk robe, his fingers warm against my skin. I felt his breath hitch as he pressed closer. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he whispered in my ear. “Dinner at Le Bernardin. I’ll give you a proper anniversary.” My breath caught. I turned, ready to kiss him. Knock, knock, knock. Sarah’s timid voice came through the door. “Nate? Chloe? I made some sweet soup. Do you want some?” I froze. I was about to say no. Nate let go of me instantly. He opened the door. “Yeah. Thanks.” Five minutes later, Nate was sitting at the dining table, drinking soup. Sarah sat next to him, chin in her hands, smiling. “Is it good, Nate?” “Yeah,” Nate nodded, a gentle smile on his face that I rarely saw. “It’s really good.” “Chloe, why aren’t you having any? Dieting?” Sarah smiled sweetly. “You already have a great body. My cooking is really good, you should try it.” I looked at them blankly. “No thanks.” 3 The next morning, the smell of food woke me up. I walked into the living room. Sarah was wearing an apron, laughing with Nate at the table. “Chloe, you’re up! We didn’t want to wake you. Come eat.” I had to admit, Sarah could cook. The table was full of dishes that looked and smelled amazing. Nate looked at me. “Sarah’s a great cook. Try this.” Sarah immediately put some beef on Nate’s plate. “Try the stir-fry, Nate. It’s my specialty.” “It’s delicious.” “Eat more then.” Sarah glanced at me while serving him. “Chloe doesn’t cook much, does she?” “She can’t cook to save her life,” Nate said. “She grew up spoiled. Never touched a stove.” Sarah pursed her lips. “Yeah, you can tell Chloe was pampered. Unlike me. I started cooking when I was five.” A flash of pity crossed Nate’s eyes. In the morning light, they looked like the happy couple. I was the intruder. Sarah looked at me. “Chloe, I feel so bad imposing on you guys. If you didn’t take me in, I’d have nowhere to go. I don’t have much, but let me do the chores and cooking while I’m here. You guys work hard, you should come home to a hot meal.” I cut her off. “No need. When are you leaving?” Sarah’s smile froze. She twisted the apron in her hands. “I… Chloe, can I stay a few more days? I don’t have anywhere else.” Nate frowned. “Chloe, what are you saying? Where is she supposed to go?” I kept my voice even. “It’s inconvenient having a third person here. I’ll lend you money. Go to a hotel.” Nate looked annoyed but didn’t argue. Sarah’s eyes reddened. She forced a pained smile. “Okay, Chloe. I know I’m a burden. Just one more night. Please. I’ll leave tomorrow.” I got a call from Nate’s mom just as my meeting ended. “Chloe, I just talked to Nate. He sounds sick. He has a fever. You know he can’t take care of himself. Can you go check on him?” I agreed. I was worried. Nate was a man-child when it came to self-care. He probably didn’t know Tylenol from Tic Tacs. I bought porridge and medicine on my way home. When I opened the door, I smelled rice porridge. The living room was empty. I heard voices from the bedroom. I put my things down and walked quietly to the door, peering through the crack. Nate was in bed. Sarah was sitting on the edge, placing a wet towel on his forehead. Nate looked flushed. He murmured, “I can do it myself. Don’t trouble yourself.” Sarah laughed softly. “Why are you so polite all of a sudden? I used to take care of you like this all the time when we were kids. “By the way, why didn’t you tell Chloe you were sick? Doesn’t she take care of you?” Nate frowned slightly. “She’s not like you. She doesn’t do this kind of stuff.” Sarah lowered her head. “I can’t compare to Chloe. She’s so pretty, so successful. I’m only good at… domestic things. “But my mom says women don’t need to be so ambitious. Men are naturally stronger. If I were lucky enough to have a boyfriend as amazing as you, like Chloe does, I’d take care of him perfectly. He wouldn’t have to lift a finger.” She sighed. “Nate, working and worrying about the house… you must be tired.” Nate’s eyes flickered. He said nothing. “I really feel for you. You carry so much.” Sarah picked up the bowl and offered him a spoonful. “You’re sick and Chloe still went to work. If I were her, I wouldn’t leave you. “Do you remember when you were sick before? You were so picky. You wouldn’t eat anything with flavor. I learned to make this plain porridge just for you.” Nate looked at the porridge, lost in thought. “I remember. You burned your hand making it. You wouldn’t even tell me until I saw the blisters.” His usually sharp features softened. “It’s been a long time. Taste it. Is it still the same?” Nate paused. “You never made this for Jason?” Sarah’s smile faded. “No. I never did this for him.” “Why?” “Because…” Sarah looked up at Nate, blushing. “Because I don’t love him.” Nate frowned. “Then why are you with him?” Silence filled the room. Finally, Sarah spoke. “To make you mad. We were fine, and then you got with Chloe and stopped hanging out with me. I dated him out of spite.” Nate looked conflicted. His voice was raspy. “Why bother?” “Yeah. I regret it.” Sarah laughed bitterly. “Too late now.” I stood outside the door, feeling a cold irony wash over me. So that was it. Sarah had always followed Nate around in high school. I thought they were just friends. Turns out, I was the clueless one. I took her in, and she’s confessing her love to my boyfriend in my bed. I pushed the door open. “Why are you still here?” 4 “Sorry! Sorry!” Sarah jumped up in panic. The bowl tipped over, spilling scalding hot porridge all over her wrist. She hissed in pain, eyes watering. “I just saw Nate was sick and wanted to help. I’m leaving right now!” Nate grabbed her uninjured hand, glaring at me. “Chloe, are you done? It’s late at night! Where is she supposed to go? If something happens to her, can you live with that?” I scoffed. “If she doesn’t leave, is she going to sleep here with you? Fine. I’ll leave. Am I interrupting something?” Nate’s face changed. He fell silent. Sarah sniffled. “Chloe, Nate, don’t fight because of me. It’s my fault. I’ll go.” Nate’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t stop her. … I drove Sarah to the nearest luxury hotel and watched her check in. “I know you and Nate are old friends,” I said. “But you’re both in relationships. Boundaries exist for a reason.” Sarah didn’t respond. As I turned to leave, she called out. “Chloe. Do you really think you and Nate are compatible?” I looked back. She had dropped the timid act. She looked at me with a strange defiance. “He’s sick and you can’t even make him porridge. Can you really take care of him?” I laughed. “You’re confused. I didn’t get lucky by dating him. I gave him the chance to be my boyfriend. “He should be the one worrying about taking care of me.”

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