1 The Bright family’s real heiress had a strange quirk: she acted like a baby. She ate from a baby bowl, slept in a cradle, and needed a stroller to go out. She had our prestigious law firm redecorated as a nursery—cafeteria served purees and rice cereal, clients’ coffee swapped for hand-mixed formula. “Grown-ups are yucky,” she’d say. “We need to purify the world with childlike innocence!” Wracked with guilt over losing her as a child, my parents catered to her every whim. Even my fiancé Bruce urged me: “Eloise, you had her life for twenty years. Can’t you be more tolerant?” On the final hearing of the firm’s biggest case, the entire court waited for her to wake from her “baby nap.” The judge fumed. I stepped up to take her place. With a brilliant defense, I saved our client $300 million and earned a partnership. Humiliated, the heiress drank on the rooftop, fell, and died. My parents and Bruce blamed me: “You snatch everything! It was a guaranteed win, yet you stole it!” They tied me to a chair and brought in my case losers. One by one, they took revenge—one knife per verdict. I died in hatred. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day she demanded the case. This time, I walked straight into the opposing firm. You want a “guaranteed win”? I’ll make you lose it all. … “Eloise, sis, pretty please let Baby have the case?” The cloying, saccharine voice grated on my ears. Vivi Bright, dressed in a custom-made pink onesie, was practically hanging off my fiancé, Bruce. She pouted, her childish pigtails whipping against his arm. “Baby wants to try the Hawke Industries case!” Bruce looked at me, his face a mask of weary apology. “Eloise, Vivi’s new to the firm. She needs a confidence boost. You have so many cases on your plate… why not let her take this one for practice?” His gaze was as gentle as ever, but an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. In my past life, it was Bruce who drove the final knife into my heart. “Eloise Bright,” he had hissed, his eyes colder and more alien than I had ever seen them. “You owe Vivi a life!” Seeing my silence now, my father, holding a baby bottle, scowled. “You enjoyed twenty years of her life. Are you really going to fight her over a small, open-and-shut case like this?” Small case? I laughed internally. Hawke Industries was accused of commercial fraud, with three hundred million dollars on the line. The prosecution had a rock-solid chain of evidence. It was an ironclad case. I had pulled fifteen all-nighters, sifting through thousands of pages of documents, to find the one single loophole that could turn it all around. That “guaranteed win” was bought with my blood and sweat. I suppressed the storm raging inside me, my voice frighteningly calm. “Fine. The case is hers.” The tension in the room instantly evaporated. Vivi cheered and planted a loud, wet kiss on Bruce’s cheek. “Yay! Now I can stand in court with my favorite Bruce!” He stiffened, glancing at me in a panic. “Eloise, don’t get the wrong idea. Vivi just has the mindset of a child. She’s like that with everyone she likes. It doesn’t mean anything.” He’d used the same explanation in our last life, even scolding me for projecting my “filthy adult thoughts” onto an innocent baby. But I’d never seen Vivi kiss anyone else. Only Bruce. And always, always, when I was there to see it. I curved my lips into a faint smile. “I understand. Since Vivi is taking the case, I’ll step down. I’ll get all the relevant materials organized for her.” “Wait,” my father called out from behind me. “You’ve been on this case for a long time, and you have the courtroom experience. You’ll be Vivi’s assistant on this one. It will be a glorious moment for the Bright family when you two sisters win this together!” He left the other half of his sentence unsaid: and if you lose, you’ll be the sacrifice we offer to Gideon Hawke to appease his anger. Seeing me lower my head in silent agreement, his expression softened. He walked over and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Eloise. We’ll be fair to both of you. We won’t play favorites.” In my past life, that empty promise had moved me to tears. I had been so desperate for their approval, even knowing they only adopted me because my eyes held a faint resemblance to their lost daughter. The moment Vivi returned, they looked at me with nothing but disgust and contempt, as if I were a cheap counterfeit. Vivi’s sticky voice broke through my reverie. “Bruce, which lawyer’s robe should Baby wear? The pink one with the little lambs, or the blue one with the little stars?” Bruce stroked her head dotingly. “No matter what you wear, our Vivi will be the most dazzling star in the room.” He used to say that to me. After a victory, he would ruffle my hair and whisper, “My Eloise, always so dazzling.” Now that word, along with the people I once considered my family and my love, all belonged to Vivi. I waited downstairs at the firm for a long time before Bruce and Vivi finally appeared. Her outfit today was even more absurd: a dinosaur onesie. She bounced and bobbed her head all the way to the car and expertly climbed into the passenger seat. That’s when I noticed it. Bruce’s Mercedes now had a pink child safety seat installed in the front. The clicks of the five-point harness echoed as he buckled her in. He was practiced, clearly not his first time. He caught my gaze and explained, looking uncomfortable, “Vivi says she gets scared in the car. A safety seat offers better protection…” Vivi waved her fists in protest. “Baby’s not scared! Baby just values her life!” I turned to look out the window, completely indifferent. Mr. Hawke was already waiting for us in the conference room. His eyes, deep as pools of ink, swept past Bruce and me, finally landing on Vivi. His brow twitched almost imperceptibly. Bruce bowed slightly. “Mr. Hawke, this is the lead counsel our firm has assigned to your case, Ms. Vivi Bright.” Hawke’s expression remained unchanged. He extended a hand. Vivi leaped backward. “Strangers are icky! Baby is clean. Baby doesn’t touch strangers!” The air froze. The secretary at the door looked like she had swallowed a fly. Bruce’s face went white. He scrambled to smooth things over. “Mr. Hawke, I apologize. Vivi is… very pure-hearted. She likes to joke around.” Hawke slowly retracted his hand. His face betrayed no emotion, but the atmospheric pressure in the room dropped several degrees. I stood silently to the side, watching. Gideon Hawke. His ruthless reputation was legendary. Rumor had it he’d spent his early years in gray areas, with a past he didn’t talk about. He was not the kind of man who would play house with a “baby.” Feeling Hawke’s hostile gaze, Bruce pressed on. “Vivi is the sole daughter of the Bright family. She may be eccentric, but she’s a legal prodigy. She scored first in the state on the bar exam.” Vivi propped her chin on her hands, blinking exaggeratedly. “Uncle Gideon, Baby looked at your case. It’s super easy! The other side is a bunch of big meanies. Baby will definitely win and make them cry!” Hawke’s brow furrowed. He turned to me. “Eloise Bright. You were handling my case before.” His voice was dark, laced with suppressed fury. “Are you certain this… woman… is competent?” My expression was calm. After a moment of silence, I turned to Vivi and spoke with grave formality. “Vivi, the Hawke case involves a three-hundred-million-dollar settlement. More importantly, it involves the future of the Bright law firm. Are you sure you want to take this on?” Her face changed. The feigned cuteness twisted into a mask of resentment. “What are you trying to say, sis? Do you think Baby is going to lose? Baby is super smart!” She stomped her foot, the tail of her dinosaur onesie wagging behind her. Bruce rushed to placate her while desperately explaining to Hawke, “Mr. Hawke, Eloise has been a bit emotional since Vivi came back. Vivi’s abilities are absolutely not in question!” Gideon Hawke’s gaze shifted between the three of us. Finally, he spoke, his voice flat. “I’m not interested in your family drama. I only care about results. Win this case, and your firm will be at the top of the food chain in this city. Lose it…” He paused, his eyes glinting like polished steel. “And for three hundred million dollars, I don’t mind sending you all a funeral wreath.” We were politely “escorted” out. The moment we were back in the car, Vivi’s lower lip trembled, and tears began to stream down her face. “He was mean to Baby! He scared Baby!” Bruce fumbled to wipe her tears, pulling a lollipop from the pocket of his tailored suit. I opened my car door and stepped out. “Where are you going?” Bruce yelled after me. I stood by the curb, hailing a cab. “I’m going back to organize the case files for Vivi.” “You could at least try to be nicer! Can’t you see Vivi’s crying?” A taxi pulled up in front of me. I smiled. “Calming the baby is your job. My job is to make sure the baby doesn’t die too ugly a death.” The car door slammed shut, cutting off Vivi’s sobs and the sight of Bruce’s furious face. The taxi wasn’t as fast as the Mercedes. By the time I arrived at the firm, Vivi was already buried in our mother’s arms, wailing. “Mommy… everyone was bullying Baby… Uncle Gideon was mean to me, and Eloise was mean to me too…” She let out a hiccup and then spat up a mouthful of milk. My mother’s heart broke for her. She patted Vivi’s back while glaring at me. “Eloise Bright! What did you do now?” Bruce quickly tried to intervene. “Auntie, it’s a misunderstanding. Eloise was just…” I cut him off calmly. “I just told her the case was important and that she should be careful.” SMACK! The slap stung my cheek, leaving a fiery pain. My ears were ringing, but I could still hear my father’s enraged voice. “We raised you for twenty years so you could threaten Vivi like this? You really think you’re something special, don’t you? Without the Bright family, you’d be rotting in a ditch somewhere! Get out! Get out of my sight! As of today, the Bright family has no one like you!” I was thrown out by security. My office supplies were tossed into a box and dumped on the curb, spilling everywhere. I silently began to pick them up. Bruce hurried over, hissing in a low voice, “Eloise, stop this. Just apologize to them. I’ll help you plead your case.” I looked at him. The man I had loved with all my heart. He had said nothing while I was being hit. Now he was telling me to “apologize and admit I was wrong.” My fingers brushed against something cold. It was the family portrait from my desk. After a brief pause, I tossed it into a nearby trash can. An hour later, I was sitting in Ethan Cole’s office, meeting his inquisitive gaze head-on. “The Hawke Industries fraud case. I want to be the counsel for your plaintiff.” He was stunned for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. “Why?” My voice was ice, devoid of any emotion. “Because Hawke is going to lose, and I don’t want it to affect my win rate.” His brow furrowed slightly. He tapped his fingers on the desk, then suddenly asked, “What happened to your face?” “I was slapped.” “By who?” “Mr. Bright.” He raised an eyebrow. “Your adoptive father?” My face was a blank mask. “My former adoptive father.” Ethan chuckled and shook his head. “That man is really losing his touch…” He sobered, his expression serious. “Are you sure you want this case? It means going head-to-head with the Bright family, with Hawke Industries, and with your… fiancé. There’s no turning back.” I looked out the window. The sky was gray, but my mind was crystal clear. “I never look back.” Ethan smiled and extended his hand. “Welcome to the battlefield.” A week later, when I appeared outside the third courtroom of the district court, my former parents were sitting in the front row. Bruce stood beside them, constantly checking his watch, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. The defense counsel’s seat was empty. Vivi hadn’t arrived yet. The judge was already seated, reviewing the case files. The court clerk kept glancing at the door, her expression growing impatient. Seeing me, my adoptive parents both frowned. My father practically lunged at me, hissing through his teeth, “What are you doing here? You’re not a lawyer with my firm anymore. Still can’t let it go?” I looked at his furious expression and answered calmly, “I’m here to observe.” He was about to say more when the judge’s voice cut him off. “Is the defendant’s counsel not present?” It was 2:05 PM. The hearing was already five minutes late. “We will wait another five minutes. If counsel does not arrive, they will be considered to have forfeited their right to defense.” More sweat beaded on Bruce’s forehead. Gideon Hawke’s stare was making him squirm. He stood up, bowed slightly to the judge, and explained cautiously, “Your Honor, Ms. Vivi Bright may be stuck in traffic. We request the court’s understanding…” Before he could finish, the judge interrupted coldly, “Traffic is not an excuse. This court has rules.” The minutes ticked by. Just as the five-minute extension was about to end, Bruce couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and addressed the judge. “We request to change our defense counsel!” His eyes shot to the gallery, and he pointed at me. “Ms. Eloise Bright is also an excellent lawyer at our firm. She can take over the defense!” All eyes turned to me. My former parents looked at me, a hint of desperation in their eyes. The judge pushed up his glasses. “Ms. Eloise Bright, are you willing to take over the defense?” I ignored Bruce’s silent plea and spoke slowly. “I cannot.” “I was fired from the firm a week ago.” “Eloise!” Bruce cried out, his voice cracking. “This isn’t the time to throw a tantrum! The firing was just talk. You can come back anytime!” I calmly shook my head. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I simply cannot…” My father stood up, his voice sharp with accusation. “So this was your plan all along! Now you’re just putting on a show!” “Order!” The judge’s gavel came down with a sharp crack. “Maintain order in the court!” Bruce glared at me like a cornered animal, but before he could speak, Vivi’s high-pitched voice echoed from the doorway. “Baby’s here! Baby’s here!” My father shot me a triumphant glare, as if to say, See? We gave you a chance and you blew it. But in the next second, the courtroom fell into a dead silence. A giant baby walker appeared in the doorway. Vivi, dressed in a frilly doll dress and a fluffy sleeping cap, was gripping the handlebar of the walker, taking shaky, toddling steps into the room. The only sound in the silent court was the whirr-click of the wheels. A terrified-looking assistant followed her, carrying a diaper bag overflowing with a baby bottle, diapers, and pacifiers. Everyone was speechless. Even the judge forgot to bang his gavel, his mouth hanging open as the pink walker wobbled its way to the defense table. Vivi took the pacifier out of her mouth, her cheeks puffed out in annoyance. “Baby didn’t even get to finish her nap. Why did we have to start so early?” The judge, who had likely never witnessed such a farce in his entire career, turned to Bruce, his voice trembling slightly. “Are you… certain… this is your defense attorney?” Bruce looked at Vivi, who was now struggling to climb into her chair, and a doting smile touched his lips. “Your Honor, please rest assured. Our lawyer’s professional capabilities are beyond question. As for her personal habits and quirks, I believe those are not the standard by which we should judge a person.” The judge’s mouth twitched. After a long moment, he shook his head in defeat. “Very well. Court is now in session.” The gavel struck. “The plaintiff may now state their claim.” I picked up my files and, under the astonished gaze of everyone in the room, walked to the plaintiff’s table. “Your Honor, members of the court.” My voice was clear and steady. “I am the legal counsel for the plaintiff, Eloise Bright.” CRASH! Bruce’s chair clattered to the floor.

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1 In the conference room, the Director of Operations, a new hire who’d been parachuted in three months ago, pointed a laser at the PowerPoint slide and addressed the entire room. “The art department is a parasite on this company,” he declared, his voice dripping with disdain. “A single character model takes you two weeks. An outsourced team can deliver it in three days.” I lifted my head and met his gaze. “And you’re sure the quality from an outsourced team would pass muster with our investors?” “Quality?” He let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Does our lead artist, Mr. Hayes, believe he’s crafting priceless masterpieces that no one else can touch?” A few sycophantic chuckles echoed around the table. Our boss, Mr. Roberts, slammed his hand on the table. “The art department’s budget is cut by half this month.” I snapped my laptop shut, stood up, and walked out. At the door, I paused and glanced back at him. What he didn’t know was that I held the source files to every single one of this company’s blockbuster games. Leaning against the window in the hallway, I opened my phone. A message from the Apex Interactive HR rep, sent three days ago, was still sitting there, unread. “Liam, have you given our offer any more thought? We’re ready for you whenever you are.” I didn’t reply. I just pocketed the phone. The elevator dinged open and Lila stepped out. She froze for a second when she saw me. I’d mentored her personally, brought her up from a fresh-faced graduate three years ago who could barely handle Photoshop. I didn’t blame her for staying silent in the meeting just now—you have to protect your own job. But I’d seen her cozying up to Steven’s clique for weeks. “Liam…” she started. “What is it?” She bit her lip, her eyes darting away. “About the meeting just now, I…” “Don’t worry about it,” I cut her off. “Everyone picks a side.” I turned and walked back to my office. She remained rooted to the spot, her eyes welling up with tears. At nine that night, the art department’s group chat exploded. Steven had posted a new notice: Effective immediately, all overtime meal stipends and cab fare reimbursements for the art department are canceled. Dave, one of the older modelers, typed a single question mark. “Steven, we often have to work until eleven or midnight. This is…” Steven’s reply was instantaneous. “This company doesn’t pay for dead weight. If you feel mistreated, you’re free to resign.” The chat went dead silent. I stared at my phone screen, then opened my notes app. I took a screenshot, logged the date, and saved it. That made seven. The next morning, Lila knocked on my office door. “Liam, Steven wants me to take over the character design for Shadowblade.” I looked up at her. Shadowblade was the company’s new thirty-million-dollar project. I’d spent a solid month, burning the midnight oil, to perfect the main character design. “He said the original art is too dark, that the investors won’t like it,” she mumbled, avoiding my eyes. “He wants me to design a new version with a… lighter, more accessible style.” “Fine,” I said. “Go ahead.” She was clearly taken aback by how easily I agreed, staring at me for a full two seconds. “So… the source files?” “They’re on the company server. Find them yourself.” I looked back down at my monitor. She lingered for another moment before turning and leaving. What she didn’t know was that the files on the server were all flattened exports. The real source files—with every layer, every group, every smart object intact—were on my portable hard drive. Without them, you couldn’t even adjust the color palette, let alone make any meaningful changes. At noon, I headed downstairs to grab lunch from the convenience store. Just as I reached the main entrance, I saw Steven and Mark from marketing sharing a smoke. “That Liam Hayes has such a stick up his ass,” Mark was saying, flicking ash onto the pavement. “Thinks he’s untouchable just because he’s been here forever.” Steven took a long drag from his cigarette. “Don’t worry. I’ll wear him down. I’ll have him crawling out of here on his own within three months.” Mark laughed. “About time someone put those dinosaurs in their place.” I stood just inside the glass doors, unseen, unheard. I turned around and headed back upstairs. The elevator was empty. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Lila. “Liam, I can’t open the files. It says layers are missing…” I typed back two words. “That’s normal.” Her reply came in a flash. “What do I do? Steven wants to see a first draft by tomorrow!” I didn’t answer. I just shoved my phone back in my pocket. The elevator doors slid open. I walked back to my office and closed the door behind me. I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a black portable hard drive. A small label on it read: Shadowblade – Full Asset Backup. Next to it were two other drives, labeled Starfall and Abyss Hunt. Those three games had earned the company over two hundred million dollars. I had designed every core character, every key environment, every UI element. And I had a backup of every single source file. I locked the drives back in the drawer and leaned back in my chair. The sky outside was turning a bruised shade of gray. At seven p.m., the department chat blew up again. It was a message from Lila. “Hey everyone, from now on, all art assets will be reviewed by our director, Steven. Please don’t send anything to Liam anymore.” Immediately after, Steven tagged everyone in the group. “@all Starting tomorrow, all art files must be uploaded to the new shared folder. Liam Hayes’s administrative access has been revoked.” Dave chimed in. “What about all the previous assets?” Steven replied. “Liam will cooperate with the handover. Right, @Liam Hayes?” I looked at the message on my phone and typed a single word. “Fine.” After sending it, I left the group chat. My phone buzzed again. A private message from Lila. “Liam, I’m so sorry…” I didn’t reply. I just deleted her contact. It wasn’t out of anger. It was just… necessary. Once she’d chosen Steven’s side, she was on the other team. And you don’t owe the other team an explanation. The next day, when I arrived at the office, I found my keycard wouldn’t work. The lock on my office door had been changed. A sheet of A4 paper was taped to the door: Art Department Reorganization. Liam Hayes will temporarily work from the main conference room. I picked up my coffee mug and walked to the conference room. I pushed the door open. Inside, the room was being used for storage, piled high with old boxes and discarded equipment. In the corner was a folding table and a single plastic chair. I placed my mug on the table and sat down. My phone rang. An unfamiliar number. “Hello, is this Liam Hayes? I’m a reporter from GameForge Magazine. I’d like to interview you about your design philosophy for Shadowblade…” “Sorry,” I said flatly. “I’m no longer in charge of that project.” I hung up. They called back immediately. “What? Then who is? We were planning a cover story for our next issue…” “You’ll have to ask the company’s Director of Operations, Steven Moore.” I hung up again and blocked the number. Ten minutes later, Steven stormed into the conference room, his face red with fury. “Liam! What the hell was that? Why did you turn down an interview with a reporter?” I looked up at him. “Didn’t you say I wasn’t in charge anymore?” “That’s an internal restructuring! To the public, you’re still the Art Director!” “Oh.” I went back to looking at my phone. Steven was practically vibrating with rage. “Don’t push your luck! The company has thirty million invested in this project. You sink it, and I’ll make sure you pay!” I put down my phone and looked at him. “Steven, you said this was an internal restructuring?” “Yes!” “So, what are my new responsibilities?” He hesitated. “You… you are to provide art support to Lila and assist her in her work.” “Understood.” I looked back down at my phone. Steven stood there, fuming, before finally slamming the door on his way out. From the hallway, I could hear his muffled voice. “Just you wait. We’ll see how long that attitude lasts.” I leaned back in the plastic chair and closed my eyes. My phone vibrated again. It was the HR rep from Apex. “Liam, we were hoping to fly you out to Austin next week to chat. We’ll arrange for your flights and hotel.” I stared at the message, thought for a moment, and replied. “Okay.” After sending the message, I opened my notes app. I had a running list of over a dozen of Steven’s “brilliant moves”: • Public humiliation in a company-wide meeting. • Cancellation of department benefits. • Changing my office lock without notice. • Revoking my administrative access. • Assigning Lila to take over my core project. Every single entry had a screenshot, a date, and a list of witnesses. I locked the note and put my phone away. Outside, it had started to rain. Fat drops splattered against the glass, a steady, rhythmic tapping. Like a countdown clock. At three in the afternoon, Mr. Roberts called me into his office. He sat back in his plush leather chair, drumming his fingers on the mahogany desk. “Liam, the company is in a phase of cost-cutting and efficiency improvement. I need you to understand that.” I stayed silent, waiting. “Steven is an MBA graduate with extensive management experience. I need you to cooperate more with his work.” “Mm-hmm.” “The Shadowblade project is critical. The investors are coming to see a demo next week. You need to hand over all the source files to Lila.” I met his gaze. “The source files aren’t on the company server.” He paused. “Then where are they?” “On my personal hard drive. As per company policy, employees are entitled to keep personal backups of their work.” Roberts’s face hardened. “Liam, what are you trying to say?” “Nothing. Just stating the facts.” “Are you threatening me?” I stood up. “Mr. Roberts, I’m just presenting the facts.” As I walked out of his office, I heard the sound of a ceramic mug shattering against the wall. In the hallway, Mark was leaning against a pillar, a smug, knowing smirk on his face. “Really, Liam? Was it worth it?” I ignored him and walked back to my makeshift office in the conference room. The moment I sat down, my phone lit up with notifications. Someone had sent me screenshots from a smaller art department group chat—one I’d been kicked out of long ago. Steven had written: “Liam is just trying to sabotage the project out of spite. People like him are a cancer to this company.” Lila had replied: “It’s true. He has no regard for the bigger picture.” Dave had simply added a thumbs-up emoji. Then came another message from Steven. “I’ve already recommended to Mr. Roberts that we terminate his employment immediately.” The person sending me the screenshots was Chris, the youngest intern in the art department. He sent me a private message: “Liam, this is messed up. They’re going too far.” I replied: “It’s fine. Just keep watching.” At eight p.m., I packed up my things to leave. As I was walking out of the building, I saw Steven and a few other department heads having dinner at the restaurant across the street. Through the large glass window, I could see him raising a glass, his face flushed with victory. “That prick Liam Hayes… I guarantee you, I’ll have him out on his ass within three months!” The others raised their glasses in a toast. “To Steven!” “He had it coming!” I watched them for a moment from the darkness, then turned and walked away. On the subway ride home, I opened my notes app and added two more entries. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was an Austin area code. “Mr. Hayes? This is Apex Interactive HR. Would next Wednesday work for your visit to Austin?” “Yes, that’s fine.” “Wonderful! Our studio head is very excited to meet you. He said your character design for Shadowblade is one of the most stunning concepts he’s ever seen.” A small smile touched my lips. “Thank you.” I hung up and leaned my head against the cool glass of the window. The city’s neon lights blurred past, a river of vibrant color. Just like this city, I thought. All glitz and glamour on the surface, but underneath, it’s nothing but calculations. The next morning, I was stopped by security in the lobby. “Mr. Hayes, your keycard has been deactivated.” “Why?” “I don’t have that information, sir. You’ll have to ask HR.” I went to the HR office. A notice was taped to the door. Due to an office restructuring, all art department keycard access has been reset. For questions, please contact Director Steven Moore. I took a picture of the notice and left. I found a seat at the coffee shop downstairs and sent a message to Chris. “Keep an eye out for me. Let me know if anything happens.” “You got it, Liam!” Ten minutes later, a new message came through. “Liam, Steven is holding a meeting in the conference room. He’s talking about reorganizing all art assets and putting Lila in charge of the library.” I set down my coffee cup. “What else?” “He’s saying you’re violating professional ethics by hiding the source files and that he has already filed a formal complaint with Roberts to have you penalized.” I stared at the screen and typed. “Keep me posted.” A little while later, another message. “Lila just told everyone she can redraw the character from scratch. She said she doesn’t need your source files.” I chuckled. Redraw it? I had gone through thirty-seven different versions of the main character for Shadowblade. I had over a hundred pages of rough sketches alone. Did she think this was a coloring book? At noon, I received an email from HR. “In light of your refusal to cooperate with company directives, the company has decided to deduct this month’s performance bonus and issue a formal warning.” The email was CC’d to every department head. My phone immediately started buzzing with messages. Some were sympathetic. Others were just a string of popcorn emojis from people enjoying the drama. I ignored them all and set my work chats to mute. I opened my personal email. Another message from Apex Interactive. “Liam, our studio head also said we can offer you a private studio and allow you to build your own hand-picked team.” I stared at the message for a long time. Finally, I typed back: “Great. See you next Wednesday.” That afternoon, Chris sent me another screenshot. It was from the art department chat. Lila had posted a new character design. The style was childish, the proportions were off, and the color scheme was garish. It looked like something a kindergartener would draw. The chat was silent. Five minutes later, Steven finally broke the silence. “Excellent! This is exactly the kind of fresh, accessible style we need! So much better than that gloomy stuff Liam was doing!” Mark immediately chimed in: “Totally. This will appeal much more to a younger demographic.” A cascade of likes and thumbs-ups followed. Only Chris messaged me privately: “Liam, are these people blind?” I replied: “They’re not blind. They’re pretending.” I was still sitting in the coffee shop at nine that night.

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I took time off work to be the maid of honor for my best friend. The moment I landed, she had a welcome gift waiting for me: the latest iPhone, a bottle of designer perfume, and a check for $5,200. “Just a little something,” she said, hugging me tight. “Even though I’m getting married, you’ll always be the most important person in my life, Stella.” I was so moved I could have cried. The next morning, I was up at the crack of dawn, slipping into my bridesmaid dress to go find her. Anna was in the middle of her makeup when I walked in. She saw me and waved excitedly, but as I got closer, her face went rigid. Her smile vanished, replaced by a mask of pure ice. “Get the hell out of my wedding, you bitch.” I froze. … “Anna, are you kidding me?” I managed a nervous laugh, trying to play it off. “It’s your big day. Stop messing around, you’re actually scaring me.” I reached out to touch her arm, hoping a little physical contact would snap her out of this bizarre, far-too-realistic “joke.” But she recoiled as if I were toxic. “Who’s kidding? Get out. Or I’m calling security.” My hand hung in the air. My mind went blank as I frantically tried to figure out what I could have possibly done wrong. I came up with nothing, even as Anna picked up her phone and actually started dialing. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Did I do something wrong? Is there some local custom I don’t know about? Did I offend someone? I can apologize, Anna, just please don’t be angry.” She was marrying a man from a city over 800 miles away from our hometown. It was possible I’d unknowingly broken some rule. I clung to that thought like a lifeline, looking at her with pleading eyes. “Just tell me what I did.” Her gaze was venomous. “There’s no custom. The fact that I’m not spelling it out for you is me being polite. Security! Get her out of here! I never want to see you again!” Just yesterday, we were curled up in the same bed, laughing about memories from childhood. She was so worried about my long trip that she’d booked me my own suite to rest. We’d only been apart for three hours. How could everything have changed so drastically? When the security guard approached, I shook my head, my eyes fixed on Anna. “I don’t know what I did, and you won’t tell me. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. But today is the most important day of your life. Please don’t kick me out. I’m your only bridesmaid. If I go, what will you do?” The words were barely out of my mouth before Anna lunged forward and yanked at the bodice of my dress. “Take it off!” She shoved her makeup artist forward. “Any woman can do this job. I don’t need you. Stella, get the hell out. I don’t have time for your drama. My makeup isn’t even done! You’re going to ruin my entire wedding, you bitch!” I clutched at the fabric to keep myself from being exposed, the word “bitch” draining all the strength from my body. I looked at her, defeated, and pulled the handcrafted fan I’d stayed up for nights making from my bag. I placed it gently on the table. “I wish you a happy marriage,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’ll return the dress to you shortly.” Anna snatched the fan. For a fleeting second, I thought it was a sign of a truce. “I worked on that for so long,” I said quickly. “I even burned my fingers. It’s just the style you love.” The next second, she smashed it on the floor right in front of me, the delicate frame splintering into pieces. She pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get. Out.” Back in my room, I took off the dress and sent Anna a text. [I’m still at the hotel. If you need anything, just call me.] A red exclamation mark appeared. The message failed to send. She had blocked me. I fell onto the bed, utterly defeated, the “why” screaming in my mind. But the only answer that came was a knock on the door. It was security, sent by Anna to escort me off the premises. I dragged my luggage through the lobby, past the large, smiling photo of the happy couple, and stood shivering in the cold wind. I had to know. Even if it was the end, I deserved to know why. I called the groom. The phone connected. The man who had been nothing but polite and charming to me before suddenly spat venom. “You have the nerve to call me? Anna has the worst luck, having a slut like you for a friend. Get lost!” That one word—slut—was like a key. A terrible, sickening idea began to form in my mind. Dodging security, I went back to Anna’s suite, carrying the welcome gifts she had given me. I found her glaring at me with undisguised contempt. “Is this what it’s about?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Do you think I’m some gold-digger who only cares about expensive gifts? I tried to refuse them yesterday, but you insisted. Here, take it all back. I don’t want any of it. I just want my friend back.” Maybe it had all been a test. Anna’s eyes scanned the gifts, then me, as if we were both piles of garbage. “This stuff is nothing to me,” she sneered. “I’ll say it one last time. Get out. Or I’ll call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing. My fiancé is a powerful man who loves me. You’ll rot in jail.” I watched, frozen, as she started to dial 911. I left before she could complete the call, leaving the gifts behind. I hadn’t gotten far down the hall when the door to her suite flew open and the gifts came sailing out, landing in a heap on the carpet. “Take your trash with you, you garbage person. And get your filthy hands off my property.” I walked back and picked them up. I wasn’t about to throw away thousands of dollars. My flight, my time off work—this whole disaster had already cost me enough. I booked a flight home for that afternoon. That way, if Anna changed her mind, if she needed me for any reason, I could still get back in time. I told my boyfriend, Alex, what happened. I sent him a picture from the day before, of me in the bridesmaid dress, laughing and play-fighting with Anna. [This is the dress. It’s not revealing, not flashy. I wore my hair in a bun so I wouldn’t outshine her. I wore simple jewelry. I even wore flats so I’d be shorter than her. I thought of everything, Alex. What did I do wrong?!] He sent back a hug emoji. [If you know you did nothing wrong, then the problem is with the friendship, not you. Don’t torture yourself. Come home. I’ll take you out for a nice dinner tonight, we’ll relax.] I sighed, a tiny sliver of hope still flickering in my chest, waiting for a message from Anna that never came. The final boarding call echoed through the terminal. I got on the plane. I felt like a zombie walking back into my apartment. Alex’s “nice dinner” had been postponed. A last-minute business trip had come up, so he couldn’t even pick me from the airport. My roommate, Sarah, who had also been my dormmate for all four years of college, saw my miserable expression. “What’s wrong? Did the wedding not go well?” I told her everything. Her eyes went wide with shock. “How could she do that to you?” “I don’t know,” I whispered, slumping onto the couch. “I’m just so tired. I’m going to bed.” Sarah nodded sympathetically. The next morning, I woke up to find breakfast on the table with a note from her: Cheer up! Off to work. xo Sarah. A little warmth spread through my chest. We’d started rooming together right after graduation when we were both broke. Now that I was making good money, we’d stayed together. Genuine friendship was a rare and precious thing. I ate every bite, took a picture to thank her, and got ready for work. My boss had only approved two days off, warning me that I was too crucial to the team to be gone for long. Any more time and my pay would be docked. I walked into the morning meeting and was surprised to see the Chairwoman of the board, Mrs. Davenport. I smiled and nodded at her; she smiled back. But the moment I sat down, her expression soured. She slammed her hand on the table, the sound cracking through the quiet room. She stood up, her face contorted with rage, and pointed a trembling finger at me. “You. Get out of my company. You’re fired!” I was stunned. The scene was so eerily similar to the day before that my brain couldn’t process it. “Why? Is there a problem with the project?” “The project is proceeding perfectly,” she snapped. “Is it because I took time off?” “Your leave was approved. It’s not that.” “Then why are you firing me? I haven’t done anything wrong.” “I am the boss, Stella,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “I don’t need a reason. Go to HR, collect your severance, and be out of my building in five minutes.” She collapsed back into her chair, breathing heavily. Mrs. Davenport was usually so kind, a motherly figure to everyone in the office. She was known for giving second chances. And I was her star employee. She’d been planning to send me abroad for a special training program, promising me a promotion and a huge raise after my current project was completed. Now, she was looking at me with pure, unadulterated disgust. I felt like I was cursed. “Please,” I begged, “just tell me why. I haven’t done anything.” My direct manager, Mr. Roberts, rushed to her side, rubbing her back. “Just go, Stella,” he hissed at me. “If you give her a heart attack, your severance won’t even cover the hospital bills.” His words snapped me back to reality. He was right. I left the conference room, my head spinning. As the door closed behind me, I heard a coworker mutter, “Knew she was going to get fired.” Like a lost ship spotting a lighthouse, I rushed over to him. “What did you say? Why was I fired?” He looked me up and down with revulsion. “Because you’re a slut.” Slut. There was that word again. The same word Anna’s fiancé had used. The same implication in Anna’s “bitch.” But what had I done? I looked at my reflection in the glass door. I was wearing tailored trousers, not a skirt. Sensible leather shoes, not heels. My makeup was minimal. My clothes were professional and modest. “Why are you calling me that?” I asked, my voice cracking. “What did I do?” The coworker took a step back, as if I were contagious. He waved over a security guard. “Get her out of here.” For the second time in two days, I was physically removed from a building.

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Six years after being cast out of Shaw Manor, mistaken for the wrong daughter, I was selling blood to survive. Just as I pocketed a few bills, a bodyguard’s kick buckled my knees. I collapsed, and a shrill voice shrieked, “Ungrateful wretch! Are you trying to kill my Elara?” A slap cracked across my face—it was my mother, desperate to secure blood for her precious daughter. My brother Harry, standing beside her, ordered the guards to throw me out. He glanced at the money in my hand and sneered, “Still vain, selling blood for a few hundred bucks?” He lowered his voice. “Elara graduates in two weeks and studies abroad. She won’t be the focus anymore—you won’t bully her then. I’ll explain everything to our parents and bring you home. You’ll still be the family princess.” “Home? A princess?” A weak laugh escaped me. My ALS was progressing fast; I wouldn’t last a month. Besides, the moment he believed Elara and called me an impostor, I had already lost my home. … My fingers were too weak to hold on. A sudden gust of wind snatched the bills from my grasp. Instinct took over. I dragged my unresponsive legs, shuffling after the money. The stares of the people around me were like daggers, their eyes branding me a monster. But I didn’t care. All I knew was that if I lost that money, the specialty medication I’d been planning for so long to buy would be out of reach again. My entire focus was on that single, fluttering bill, so much so that I didn’t even hear the ugly insults being hurled at me by passersby. The chorus of disgust darkened Harry’s face. He couldn’t stand it any longer. “Lia!” he roared, his voice laced with fury. “Are you so desperate for my pity that you’ve thrown away all your damn pride?” “So what if we sent you away for a while? That family wasn’t poor. Who are you trying to fool with this disgusting act?” His familiar voice struck my heart like a hammer. His casual “so what” was a hell I never wanted to revisit. A bitter taste flooded my mouth, but in the end, I just paused, gathered what little strength I had, and took another shuffling step. The strangeness of my gait must have finally registered. Harry’s expression softened slightly, his eyes narrowing as he realized something was truly wrong. He strode towards me, his mouth opening to ask a question. Just then, Elara appeared, her hand flying to her mouth in feigned shock. “Oh, Lia, honey. It’s one thing to have the hospital forge a diagnosis for ALS, but now you’re faking the symptoms with your body, too?” With a flourish, she handed my actual diagnosis report to Harry, her voice trembling with manufactured sorrow. “Brother, I know Lia is just doing this to come home sooner. It’s my fault I’ve damaged your relationship. Maybe… maybe you should just send me abroad early!” Harry stared at the medical report. Fueled by Elara’s performance, his fists clenched, his teeth grinding together. “I almost fell for it,” he seethed. “Lia, after all these years, have you learned nothing but how to lie? Now you’re faking illnesses?” “Be careful you don’t ‘act’ yourself into an early grave before you even make it home!” He flung the report at my chest, then turned decisively, taking Elara’s arm and leading her away. I only snapped out of my daze when Elara glanced back over her shoulder, flashing me a triumphant peace sign. A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. So what if she was his true, blood-related sister? When it came to Elara, everything was my fault. I was always the liar. But none of that mattered anymore. I just wanted my medicine. I just wanted the pain to stop. I picked up my money and boarded a bus to the hospital. We were stuck in traffic for a while. A long line of trucks, all bearing banners with the Shaw family name, was holding everything up. A quick glance at my phone told me it was a convoy of medical supplies Harry was donating to a rural mountain region. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my doctor. He sighed, his voice full of regret. “Miss Shaw, don’t bother coming. Mr. Harry Shaw issued an order. He said you’re faking your illness, and no hospital is to waste medication on you.” But he knew. He knew about my condition. He had promised to save a dose for me. No matter how much I begged, he wouldn’t budge. He finally just hung up. I stared blankly out the window at the Shaw family charity banners. The irony was suffocating. Harry could throw away millions for Elara, could be the city’s top philanthropist year after year, but the pittance I wanted to spend on my own medicine was, in his eyes, a waste. My last sliver of hope was gone. I got off the bus at a random stop. I had no control over my legs. With a thud, I collapsed to my knees on the sidewalk. The helplessness was crushing. I felt like nothing, a worthless piece of trash. The dam of my emotions finally broke. I started sobbing, pounding my useless legs again and again. A moment later, a young woman with a camera gently took my arm and helped me to a nearby bench. She handed me a tissue, her voice soft. “Is something wrong? Is there anything I can do to help you?” My entire body went rigid. All these years, the care and concern I had craved had never come from my family. It came from a complete stranger. Six years ago, my brother’s heart went out to the impoverished scholarship student, Elara. He had a fake DNA test done and presented it to our parents. “Elara is your real daughter,” he’d declared. “My real sister.” The truth struck me like lightning. I cried hysterically, begging him to tell our parents the real story. His answer was a heavy slap across my face. “Can’t you be more considerate? Elara is an orphan! She’ll be eaten alive! People at school will only leave her alone if they know she has a family!” he had yelled. “You’ve had Mom, Dad, and me doting on you your whole life. What’s the big deal about letting her borrow your identity for a while?” The day Elara was welcomed home, she began to frame me for everything. She claimed I called her a country bumpkin, that I flaunted my money to humiliate her. My brother would punish me, while my parents simply turned a blind eye. The breaking point came when Elara returned from school one day, her clothes nearly torn off, shameful words branded onto her skin. She threw herself to her knees in front of me, banging her head on the floor. “I was wrong, Lia! I’m sorry! I’m a hillbilly who shouldn’t have stolen your parents! I deserve to die! I’ll go die right now!” She then ran and threw herself into the swimming pool. The whole family exploded in fury. My brother, especially. He paid a couple to pose as my birth parents and had me thrown out of the house. “Don’t think you’re so high and mighty,” he’d sneered. “Go get a taste of the real world. Maybe it’ll knock some of the cruelty out of you. When you learn how to stop torturing Elara, maybe we’ll let you come back.” And so began my life in hell. The couple ran a small restaurant, and they forced me to do the work of ten people. The skin on my hands was perpetually raw and broken. Whenever the man got drunk and violent, the woman would shove me in front of him as a human shield. The slaps, the punches, the beer bottles—they always landed on me. Several times, I was beaten nearly to death. Gradually, they noticed something was wrong with my movements. My speech became slurred, I couldn’t hold chopsticks steady, and I stumbled when I walked. When I was diagnosed with ALS, they threw me out like a piece of trash. Unable to work, I sold my blood to afford food. And now, the medicine I had yearned for, the medicine that was finally within reach, had been snatched away by Harry. By the time I finished my story, the young woman was covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes held nothing but pure, unadulterated sympathy. She wiped her eyes and spoke. “I’m a content creator, just starting out. I help strangers achieve their wishes. Do you have a wish?” A wish? I looked up at the stars and thought for a long, serious moment. “I want… a coffin.” Living was already so painful. I wanted a peaceful place to rest when it was over. The girl immediately agreed. Later, after asking for my permission, she posted my story online. Looking at the screen, at my sallow, gaunt face and ragged clothes, I barely recognized the girl who used to love dressing up. A thought popped into my head: I wanted to be beautiful when I died. I counted the money in my hand. I was still a few dozen dollars short of a proper burial dress. I could make that much by collecting empty bottles. My muscles had atrophied so much that walking was nearly impossible. I managed to drag myself to the entrance of a shopping mall, where I asked a kind passerby to write a few words on a piece of cardboard for me. 【CAN YOU SPARE YOUR EMPTY PLASTIC BOTTLES? THANK YOU!】 There were so many kind people. By the end of the day, my bag was overflowing. I made over ten dollars. I never expected the video the girl posted to go viral, drawing a wave of pity and attention. The next day, I had barely arrived at the mall before my bag was full. As I struggled to lift it, a foot shot out and kicked it violently, sending bottles scattering across the pavement. “Lia! What the hell was that video you posted online? A sob story to turn the public against Elara? To drive her to a mental breakdown?” It was Harry. “Take it down, now! And tell everyone the truth!” I let out a derisive snort. “The… truth? Isn’t… this… the truth?” I managed, each word a struggle. I couldn’t control my facial muscles. Harry’s brow furrowed in disgust, as if he were witnessing the most pathetic joke in the world. He scoffed. “Do you find this amusing? Making such a scene just to get me to bring you home early?” “Fine,” he said, nodding with a grim understanding, his eyes dark and unreadable. “If you can’t even wait two weeks and insist on fighting me, then let’s see what happens.” After Harry left, I paid him no mind and continued collecting my bottles. A few more bags, I calculated, and I’d have enough for my dress. But that afternoon, the blogger called me, her voice choked with sobs and apologies. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can grant your wish anymore. My social media accounts have been shut down, my house was vandalized, and the shock sent my grandmother to the ICU. I have to borrow money for her medical bills.” She sounded like she was on the verge of a complete breakdown. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know why… everything was going so well, and then in the space of an hour, it all fell apart…”

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On the day of our engagement party, I couldn’t reach Aidan Cross, the man I’d loved for ten years. I waited for him at the restaurant for eight solid hours. As night fell, he finally called me back, his voice tinged with a hollow apology. “Lia, I’m so sorry. Something came up. I hope I didn’t make your parents wait too long.” I massaged my aching legs and told him they hadn’t. His voice was laced with fatigue. “Let’s reschedule the engagement party. How about next week? I’ll call your parents and explain.” My phone vibrated. My social media feed had refreshed with another picture of Aidan and Megan Chen, cozy and intimate. Our mutual friends were all cheering in the comments, congratulating Megan on the 25 lavish gifts Aidan had prepared for her 25th birthday. The final gift had been a surprise visit. Which meant that for the eight hours he’d stood me up, Aidan had been on a flight to the next city over to celebrate his childhood friend’s birthday. A new message popped up on my screen. It was from Megan. 【Lia, the only person Aidan truly cares about is me. Are you really sure you still want to marry him?】 I turned off the screen, no longer feeling the need to question him or spiral into doubt. I simply replied to Aidan’s text. “Don’t worry about it. We’re… done.” Lia Stone was done trying to marry Aidan Cross. 1. “Dad, I’ll do it. I’ll marry Tim Cohen.” “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, sweetheart. When it comes to love, you have to know when to cut your losses.” After hanging up, I made dinner, three dishes and a soup, just like any other night. When Aidan got home, he was holding a bouquet of my favorite white freesias. “Went out of my way to get these for you. Don’t be mad anymore.” Normally, I would have rushed over, taken the flowers, and thrown myself into his arms. This time, I just kept eating, my expression placid. “Still angry? How about I buy you flowers every day for a week?” He towel-dried his hair, a roguish grin on his face that was handsome enough to send hormones into overdrive. I dropped my gaze, collected my plate, and walked into the bedroom. “There’s no need.” Aidan followed me, his placating tone much softer now. “Alright, Lia, I know I was wrong to miss the engagement party. But I already apologized, didn’t I? You know how busy the Search and Rescue team is…” I cut him off. “What does your team have to do with you skipping our engagement party to go to Megan’s birthday?” He was speechless for a moment, his eyes darting away. “Lia, you know…” I interrupted him again, my voice steady. “Aidan, this has happened too many times.” On my birthday, he was with Megan, watching a meteor shower. On our anniversary, he took her out for a candlelit dinner. For five Valentine’s Days in a row, he lit up the city harbor with fireworks for her. A chill settled in the air between us. I took a deep breath. “Aidan, you knew she was doing it on purpose, and you went anyway.” “For eight hours, I stood there at our engagement party like an idiot, like a doll someone had thrown away.” My eyes burned, and I refused to say more. Aidan frowned and pulled a small, cheap-looking pouch from his pocket. “Lia, it’s all my fault. I picked out a gift for you…” Inside the flimsy pouch was a necklace. It was the cheap, complimentary item that came with one of Megan’s expensive designer birthday gifts. A throbbing started in my temples, and it took every ounce of my self-control to suppress the wave of rage that threatened to boil over. For all these years, no matter how deep our love was, Megan had always been wedged between us. Aidan’s parents died when he was young. Megan’s parents took him in, fed him, clothed him, and raised him. He told me everything the day we started dating. He said he owed them a debt of gratitude, that he had to be good to Megan for the rest of his life. I never objected to that. But for her, he abandoned me, hurt me, time and time again. And every time I tried to have a serious conversation with him about it, he would just laugh it off, saying Megan was just a kid who didn’t know the difference between platonic and romantic love. But what about him? Did he know what love was? 2. I closed the bedroom door, locking Aidan out. The next morning, an exquisite breakfast was laid out on the table with a sticky note attached. 【Honey, the team has a mission today. I had to leave early.】 I ate the breakfast, then packed up everything that belonged to me, and moved back to my parents’ house. Aidan came home just as I was wheeling my last suitcase out the door. He panicked, his brows knitting together. “Lia, I already said I was sorry. Why are you still making a scene?” I loved Aidan. I really did. In my sophomore year of college, our entire class went on a camping trip. A freak mudslide hit, followed by a wildfire. I remember it so clearly. So many rescue teams arrived, but it was Aidan, and Aidan alone, who snatched me from the jaws of death. I can still see the image of him shielding me from the flames, his body a desperate barrier. He suffered severe burns and lung damage, and spent a full year in the hospital recovering. It was a debt I owed him, one I never forgot. So when we fell in love afterward, I tried my best to understand him. When he left me for Megan, I tried not to make a big deal out of it. But this was different. I looked at him, my voice quiet. “Aidan, I’m not making a scene. I’ve just given up.” The panic in his eyes was palpable. His knuckles turned white as he snatched the suitcase from my hand. “You’re not leaving. Lia, we’re about to get married. You can’t be this childish.” A light rain began to fall outside. I’m a sentimental person, but I’m also cursed with a terrifying clarity. I took out my phone and showed him the texts Megan had sent me. “Do you really still believe her feelings for you are just sisterly affection?” Aidan’s jaw tightened. “Regardless, you are not leaving.” “Lia, you’re the one I love. I am absolutely certain of that.” A bitter smile touched my lips. He’d said that to me so many times. He was telling me he loved me while holding a single freesia, right after I’d seen a post of him giving Megan ninety-nine red roses. He was kissing my forehead and telling me he loved me right after I’d spent all night stewing a pot of soup for him, only to watch him turn and carefully feed it to Megan. He held me in his arms, overjoyed, when I presented him with a model airplane I’d spent three sleepless nights building for his promotion, only to give it to Megan because she casually mentioned she liked it. He said he loved me, but he saved all his best for her. As if to prove my point, his phone started ringing, a jarringly cheerful tune filling the room. “Prince, your princess is calling!” It was the ringtone Megan had set for herself on his phone. I’d been jealous about it for a long time. Aidan had just brushed it off. “Oh, come on, she’s just a kid. Let her have her fun.” Megan was a year older than me. If she was a kid, what was I? Her sickly-sweet voice filled the air. “Brother, has sister-in-law calmed down yet? You should bring her to the restaurant. I’ll apologize to her in person!” Aidan hung up and turned to me, his voice earnest. “Lia, Megan is getting married soon. She’s starting to realize her feelings for me aren’t romantic. Will you come have a meal with her? Please?” When I didn’t move, his voice softened. “If you still want to leave after that, I’ll let you go.” 3. I went with him to the restaurant. Megan was dressed like a little princess in a frilly pink dress and had ordered a mountain of food. Aidan was spinning like a top, serving me food one moment, and then serving Megan the next. She was all smiles, her eyes crinkling as she looked at me. “Lia, honey, I heard you and my brother are thinking of breaking up?” “The engagement party was my fault. You should forgive him.” I guess only Aidan would consider those two flippant sentences a real apology. I stared at her and forced a smile. “Fine. I forgive him.” The next second, Megan’s face soured. She stood up and slammed her plate on the floor. “Brother! She’s not even mad! Why did you make me apologize to her?” Aidan stood up, looking exasperatedly at me. “Lia, I thought you were angry. How are you suddenly not angry?” His tone was accusatory, as if I was the one being difficult. Of course. He always believed whatever Megan said. People in the restaurant were starting to stare. The soft classical music did little to soften the sharp tension of the scene. I picked up my bag. “I’m full. I’m going to the restroom.” Megan followed me, blocking my way with a belligerent expression. “How can you be so shameless? I’ve been trying to sabotage you for ten years, and you’re still desperate to marry my brother?” I washed my hands, my voice calm. “I broke up with him. Your business with him has nothing to do with me anymore.” Megan slapped herself hard across the face, then started tearing at her own clothes. A strange, secretive smile played on her lips. “Since you put it that way, you can do me one last favor.” She ran out of the restroom, sobbing, and threw herself into Aidan’s arms. “Brother! She hit me! She said I ruined her engagement party, so she’s going to ruin my life!” “I don’t want her as a sister-in-law! Please don’t marry her!” Aidan looked at her reddened cheek, his own eyes turning red with anger as he glared at me. “Lia! It’s bad enough you’re being childish and threatening to leave, but now you’re hitting people? When did you become like this?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Megan huddled in his arms, her sobs weak and breathless. As if afraid I’d reveal the truth, she urged Aidan to take her away. He gave me a look of profound disappointment and then escorted her out of the restaurant. I was left standing alone, the subject of whispers and pointed stares. It wasn’t the first time Aidan had abandoned me. Whenever Megan and I fought, he always comforted her first, then came to me later. And his excuse was always the same. “I told you when we started dating that I had to repay their kindness.” Yes, he had a debt to repay. And because of the debt I owed him, I had tolerated it for all these years. The truth was, I had gone to the restroom because I was afraid I would lose control and actually hit Megan. She had claimed she wanted to apologize, but she had been wearing the diamond ring Aidan gave her. And around her neck was another chain, holding several more rings. For ten years, I had hinted to Aidan that I wanted to get married. He never took the hint. Yet, every year, at Megan’s request, he bought her another diamond ring. He treated our future as a joke, all for her. On my way home, Aidan called. “Lia, I got Megan to sleep. You need to apologize to her for what happened.” I had never once hung up on Aidan. This time, I slammed the phone down. 4. For the next week, I was busy with wedding preparations. Aidan didn’t call again. Megan, however, sent me a string of taunting messages. 【Serves you right. Getting the silent treatment from my brother?】 【Let me tell you, you’ll never be more important than me. He’s drawing me a foot bath right now.】 【As long as I’m around, you will never be the one my brother loves most. ♡】 It wasn’t the first time she’d said things like that. I used to show them to Aidan, but he never took them seriously. He’d just wave it off. “Megan’s just a kid. It’s normal for her to be jealous that her brother has a girlfriend.” A ten-year-long bout of jealousy. Whenever I upset Megan, Aidan would give me the silent treatment until I was the one begging for his forgiveness. This time, I was done playing their twisted family games. I blocked Megan. The wedding required a set of expensive, traditional jewelry, and as it happened, the Cohen family was hosting an auction that evening where a perfect set was being sold. I arrived in my evening gown and ran into Aidan and Megan at the entrance. Megan’s eyes were filled with envy. “Well, look who it is. Someone has a short memory. Weren’t you just saying you were done? Still trying to cling to my brother?” She wasn’t wrong. I had swallowed my pride for him many times. I would meticulously track his movements, fly to whatever city he was in, and present him with a gift, humbly asking him to take me back. I had done that for ten years. All because when we first got together, I had sworn to always be understanding of his need to repay his debt. The auction proceeded smoothly. Aidan bought Megan several beautiful pieces of jewelry and some valuable art. To his credit, he was incredibly capable. He’d become the captain of the Air Rescue team at a young age, and the companies he’d invested in over the years had all seen explosive growth. He had never been stingy with me over the last decade. It was only when Megan was involved that I was always pushed to the bottom of the list. When the bidding for the jewelry set began, I raised my paddle. Megan scoffed from beside him. “You and my brother haven’t even had an engagement party, and you’re already trying to buy your wedding night jewels? You have no shame.” Aidan frowned at me, his displeasure clear. “Lia, stop this. We can’t get married unless Megan gives us her blessing.” I ignored them both and continued to raise the price. “Three million.” Megan, incensed, suddenly shouted, “Light the sky lantern!” “Let’s see how much money you have to fight me with!” The atmosphere in the room grew tense. The auctioneer, thrilled, continued to call out higher prices. I kept bidding, quickly driving the price to an astronomical figure. Megan’s face was pale with rage. “Lia! Are you just trying to buy this set to force my brother to marry you?” “I’m telling you, forget it! I will not approve!” “I will not allow an old woman like you to marry my brother!” Aidan watched from the side, his brow furrowed. “Lia, you just slapped Megan last week. Can’t you just let her have this one?” I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. He was a brilliant man. How could he not see that last week’s drama was all her own doing? He just didn’t want to call her out on it, and now he was using it as an excuse to make me back down. I could live without his love. Megan could have him. But this jewelry set was mine. I raised my hand and made a specific gesture. Megan stared, then burst out laughing. “Lia, did studying agricultural science make you stupid? I’ve already lit the sky lantern. What is that gesture supposed to mean?” Aidan’s face darkened. “Lia, stop making a scene! Don’t embarrass yourself here!” I looked at them both, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Do you want to know what real embarrassment looks like?” The next moment, the noisy auction hall fell silent. A figure emerged from the shadows of the high platform, stepping into the spotlight. “Allow me to tell you what that gesture means.”

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The first thing I did after leaving the police station was call my lawyer and have him draw up divorce papers. My friends were floored. “Divorce? But she’s head over heels in love with you, man!” My wife, madly in love with me? “Yeah, remember when you had that bad fall? She was the one who secretly donated over a pint of her own blood for you.” “And that time she got in that car accident? She was delirious, just mumbling your name over and over. When she came to, she denied the whole thing.” “We can all see it, Asher. She adores you. She’s just too proud to let you know.” “Don’t do it, man. She’s been secretly planning a huge anniversary surprise for you!” I glanced down at the three angry, red scratches on my forearm. Her handsome young executive assistant had carved them into my skin with a fork. “No,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m divorcing her.” 1 My friends tried to talk me out of it for hours. Not a single one of them could change my mind, not even my own brother. After five years of marriage, this was the first I’d heard of it. That Eleanor Vance, my Eleanor, felt this way about me. The whole world knew, it seemed. Everyone except me. There were moments, fleeting glimpses, when I’d caught an undeniable flicker of emotion in her eyes. But the way she and her assistant were constantly wrapped around each other always short-circuited any deeper thought I might have given her loving gazes. Maybe she did love me. We had been through so much together, weathered so many storms. But every time I brought him up, it was the same old story: “It’s just work, Asher,” or “Don’t be so ridiculously jealous.” Her accusations buried any possibility of love before it could even surface. Until last night. I went to pick her up from a corporate gala. I found her assistant, Julian, with one arm around her unconscious form, while his other hand was slyly working its way under her blouse, fumbling with the clasp of her bra. I saw red. My fist connected with his jaw. Julian retaliated, grabbing a steak fork from a nearby table and slashing three bleeding furrows into my arm. In the end, it was Eleanor who called the cops. On me. The charge was assault. While giving his statement, Julian cradled the bruised side of his face, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. Eleanor sat with him just outside the interrogation room, a silent, supportive presence. By the time I was released, they were gone. Her car, too. It wasn’t until the next morning that the door to our apartment swung open. The stale smell of alcohol on her was gone, replaced by something clean and foreign. “Have a good night’s sleep at Julian’s?” I asked, looking up at her. My voice was devoid of any emotion. She sighed, that familiar, weary expression settling on her face—the one that always made me feel like I was the one being unreasonable. “I’ve told you, there’s nothing between us. How many times do we have to have this conversation? You’re the one who assaulted him. I couldn’t exactly expect you to apologize, could I? The least I could do was drive him home and buy him a gift to make up for your behavior.” My fists clenched at my sides, the knuckles white. She was getting agitated now. “Can’t you be rational for once? The kid’s got an image to maintain. How’s he supposed to show up to work with a black eye?” “He has a black eye,” I ground out, “and I’m supposed to be untouched?” Her gaze finally fell to the scratches on my arm. Her breath hitched. “Did… did he do that?” I pulled my arm back as she reached for it. The wounds had been deeper yesterday, bleeding freely. But she only noticed them now that they had scabbed over. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I was drunk last night, I didn’t see…” “You didn’t see my arm bleeding, but you saw the faint bruise on his cheek?” She sighed again, a long, drawn-out sound of frustration. “Asher, Julian and I are just friends. If I were in love with him, I never would have married you. I’m not the kind of person who cheats.” Just then, the front door opened again. Before I could even register my surprise, a figure brushed past me, rushing to Eleanor’s side. “Eleanor! I was so worried. Did he give you any trouble?” I stumbled back, knocking a vase on the console table. It wobbled precariously. I watched as Julian cupped her face in his hands, his expression a mask of pure concern. “He didn’t hit you, did he?” “Julian, this is not the time!” Eleanor’s eyes flashed with panic. She pushed him away and turned to me. But I shoved her back, my voice dangerously low. “You gave him a key to our home?” “I…” “Mr. Vance!” Julian stepped between us, his eyes blazing with righteous indignation. “I’m her executive assistant. If she forgets a file or some other important document, what’s so wrong with me coming back to get it for her? Can you do anything besides fantasize about her cheating on you? Take a look around! In the real world, men and women work together. It’s normal. Maybe you should try to get out of the dark ages!” CRACK. “Ah!” “Is this your idea of normal workplace interaction?” I snarled, my voice barely a whisper as I slammed him against the wall. “Undressing her while she’s passed out drunk?” Eleanor froze. I tightened my grip on Julian’s collar. “And then lying to the police, telling them I’m mentally unstable, that I see every man near my wife as some kind of rival?” “Let… let go…” he choked out, his face turning pale. Eleanor rushed forward. “Asher, please, let’s just talk about this. Let him go.” A searing pain shot up my arm. The scabs on my wounds had been torn open in the struggle. A triumphant smirk played on Julian’s lips. “You son of a bitch!” My fist was already flying towards his face again when Eleanor’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. “I said, stop! Didn’t you hear me?” BAM. A force slammed into me, sending me staggering back. I crashed into the console table. The vase I had bumped earlier shattered into a thousand pieces. My hand landed squarely on the shards, and crimson bloomed across the polished wood. For the first time in all our years together, she had laid a hand on me. And it was for him. I looked up. Julian was leaning against her, clutching his chest as if I’d dealt him a mortal blow. She didn’t even glance back at me. “It’s okay,” she murmured to him, her voice soft. “I’ll apologize to you on his behalf. Take the week off. Rest up at home.” Her words were professional, detached. But for a split second, I saw a flash of genuine pain and concern in her eyes. It was a look I knew all too well. For the fifteen years I’d known her, that look had been reserved only for me. I closed my eyes, the sting of betrayal sharper than the glass in my hand. “Eleanor,” I said, my voice hollow. “Let’s get a divorce.” 2 The hand supporting Julian went rigid. She turned, her face a pale mask of shock. “What did you say?” I clutched my bleeding hand. Her breath caught in her throat. “You’re…” “Mr. Vance,” Julian interrupted, his tone dripping with condescension. “Threatening a woman with divorce is the most pathetic thing a man can do. Eleanor works her ass off to support this family, and what do you do? You mistrust her, you threaten her! What kind of man are you? No woman would put up with that!” His words seemed to steady her. The panic in her eyes subsided, replaced by a hard glint. “Asher, don’t joke about things like that.” I turned away from her, walked to my desk, and pulled the papers from the drawer. A flicker of triumph lit up Julian’s eyes before he quickly masked it, turning to Eleanor with a look of feigned concern. But Eleanor’s expression had changed. The confidence was gone, replaced by a dawning horror. “You actually had them drawn up?” “Mr. Vance,” Julian chimed in smoothly. “Divorce papers aren’t just a threat. Once they’re signed, there’s no going back. Are you so sure she won’t call your bluff? Are you banking on the fact that she loves you too much to ever sign?” I narrowed my eyes. From the moment I met him, I knew Julian was trouble. And now, he was proving it. His words were a masterful piece of manipulation, pretending to defend her while daring her, provoking her pride. He knew Eleanor better than I thought. He knew she couldn’t stand being backed into a corner. If you pushed her far enough, she’d burn everything to the ground just to prove she couldn’t be controlled. A cold smile touched my lips. “Don’t worry. The second she signs, I’ll be out of here. And I won’t look back.” Julian’s lips curled into a victorious smirk. But in the next instant, the divorce agreement became confetti in Eleanor’s hands. “Eleanor!” Julian cried out, instinctively trying to catch the fluttering pieces of paper. Eleanor’s eyes were locked on mine, burning with a fierce intensity. “I will never sign.” Julian stared at her, dumbfounded. I was surprised, too. I had pushed her this far, and she still wouldn’t break? “Fine,” I nodded, my voice calm. “Then we’ll go through the courts.” “What?” She looked as if she’d been slapped. “I’m moving out. I can’t stand to be in this house with him around.” I grabbed the suitcase I had packed earlier. Eleanor lunged to block the door. “Asher!” “Eleanor!” Julian quickly pulled her back. I walked out without a backward glance. Her voice, trembling, trailed after me: “Let go of me! Asher! Don’t go! We need to talk!” 3 After moving out, I found a job. Before I gave up my career for Eleanor, I was a damn good designer. Getting back into the industry felt like coming home. I adapted quickly. But it wasn’t long before Julian cornered me outside my new office building. “She fired me,” he announced, his voice loud enough for my new colleagues to hear. “Won’t take my calls, won’t answer my texts. Are you happy now?” Heads turned. A crowd was starting to form. “Asher, I was her assistant. It was my job to be in close contact with her! Is every man who even speaks to her a threat in your eyes? Why should we, the people who are just trying to do our jobs, have to pay the price for your paranoia?” Whispers rippled through the onlookers. “Sounds like some corporate drone got caught in the crossfire of a CEO and her jealous husband.” “That kid looks pretty clean-cut. I doubt he’s a homewrecker. The other guy is probably the problem, forcing his wife to fire her assistant.” “I wouldn’t put up with a man like that. If she did cheat on him, I wouldn’t even blame her.” Hearing this, a smug smile touched Julian’s lips. He puffed out his chest, his voice ringing with even more righteous anger. “Mr. Vance, you can be as controlling and possessive as you want. You could have asked Eleanor to hire a female assistant. But to attack me, to force her to fire me… don’t you think that’s going too far?” “What? That bastard hit him, too?” “This isn’t even Eleanor’s company, is it? So he won’t let his wife work with men, but he’s fine working in an office full of women? Hypocrisy at its finest.” Julian tilted his chin up, looking down his nose at me. “Mr. Vance, people can see the truth for what it is. I suggest you call Eleanor right now and clear this up. Don’t let your marital drama ruin the lives of us working folk!” “Clear what up?” I asked, crossing my arms. “What is there to explain about what you and Eleanor did?” “Here we go again,” someone in the crowd muttered. “This guy thinks every man on earth is trying to steal his wife.” “Like we have time for that. Women just slow you down.” “He’s hopeless. All testosterone, no brain.” “Wait… what’s that on the building across the street?” Everyone turned. On the blank white wall of the opposite building, a massive, crystal-clear image was being projected. “Turn it off!” Julian screamed. But it was too late. Everyone saw it: Julian, leaning over an unconscious Eleanor, his hand slipping beneath her blouse, reaching for her bra. “Whoa… so the husband wasn’t just imagining things. That assistant really is…” “Damn. He looks so innocent, but he’s a total creep.” “Well, you can’t blame him for trying. That Eleanor is a knockout, and young, too. Of course he’d make a move.” “Asher!” Julian grabbed the front of my shirt. “Turn it off! That’s slander! I’ll sue you!” POW. My fist slammed into his face before he could even see it coming. He stumbled back, which gave me a clear view of the person who had just gotten out of a car behind him. Eleanor. She was staring at me, her face a canvas of shock. The last time I’d hit him in front of her, she’d shoved me into a pile of broken glass. The time before that, she’d had me arrested. “Eleanor!” Julian wailed, his eyes turning red. “He’s lost it again! Look at my face! He hit me again!” I just stared at her, silent. She walked forward. Julian’s lips twitched into a smug, triumphant smile. “Did you hurt your hand?” she asked, gently taking my fist in her hands. “Next time, don’t do it yourself.” Julian froze. “Buddy’s not eating,” she said softly, her eyes searching mine. “He misses you. Please, come home. Just to see him. Please?” I pulled my hand from her grasp and walked away without a word. Behind me, I heard her voice, thick with unshed tears. “Asher.” 4 Eleanor started posting non-stop on her social media. Pictures of her daily life, always with Buddy, our Golden Retriever. She wasn’t the type to abuse an animal to get my attention, so instead, she flooded her feed with adorable pictures of him, hoping to lure me back home. Whenever I made a public appearance, she’d be there, Buddy in tow if she could manage it. But I also noticed that wherever she was, Julian was never far behind. I gave Eleanor the cold shoulder, and Julian would use the opportunity to slide in, trying to talk to her. She would brush him off, her voice laced with impatience. “You’re fired! Don’t you get it?” His eyes would well up with tears. “Eleanor, are you trying to ruin my life?” “Ruin your life?” She let out a bitter laugh. “You’re the one who’s ruining mine! My husband won’t come home, he won’t speak to me, he’s served me with court summons… I’m fighting a divorce case because of you! Isn’t this all your doing?” Julian looked indignant. “That’s because he’s paranoid! Everyone in the company knows our relationship was strictly professional! He’s the one who wants to twist it into something else! It just proves he doesn’t deserve your love!” “Shut up!” Eleanor snapped. “You have no right to talk about him.” “I…” Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. “And another thing,” she continued, her voice cold as ice. “My relationship with you was professional. But what about yours with me?” Julian was stunned into silence. Eleanor scoffed and turned away. “Stay away from me from now on. I don’t want my husband to have any more misunderstandings.” “Eleanor…” Julian’s voice was a choked whisper. He turned his head and saw me walking by. His tear-filled eyes burned with a raw, undiluted hatred. I pretended I didn’t see him. The sight of those two together soured my mood completely. From then on, I only accepted invitations to high-level forums and exclusive events. No riff-raff allowed. But after a few weeks of peace, Eleanor somehow managed to get her hands on an invitation. She was back at my side. It was the day before our first court hearing. “Asher, can we please not do this?” “Can you please stop following me?” Her eyes grew red. “Asher, I swear, there was nothing between us. It was strictly professional.” I didn’t entirely disbelieve her. Eleanor wasn’t the type to have a physical affair. Her upbringing wouldn’t allow it. It was one of the things I’d admired about her. But she still didn’t get it. A relationship doesn’t need a physical affair to be broken. Even if there were no romantic feelings for Julian on her part, her complete lack of boundaries was a betrayal in itself. One or two instances are a thorn in your side. Five years of it becomes an uncrossable chasm. “Let’s just end this amicably, Eleanor,” I sighed. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Let’s not make it ugly.” “Asher…” The tough-as-nails woman who wouldn’t cry over a broken bone was now looking at me like a lost child. I turned to leave. Just then, a panicked shout echoed from the hallway. “Fire!” The stairwell instantly descended into chaos. I smelled the thick, acrid scent of smoke. “Gas masks!” My instincts kicked in. I smashed the glass of the emergency cabinet. After putting one on, I was about to run when I remembered her. I turned and tossed the remaining mask to Eleanor. At that exact moment, a familiar voice called out from the next room. “Eleanor! cough! Eleanor, are you in there?” Eleanor, who had been pulling me towards the exit, froze. That voice… it was Julian. “Cough! Cough!” A wracking cough echoed from the other room. I tugged her arm. “Let’s go! We’ll get help for him downstairs!” “No!” She grabbed my wrist, her grip like iron. I stared at her, bewildered. “Julian has weak lungs.” “Eleanor, what are you talking about?” A hand pressed against my gas mask. I heard her voice, laced with a terrible, misplaced pity. “I’m sorry.” “Eleanor! cough, cough!” The mask was ripped from my face. Thick, black smoke flooded my lungs. Tears streamed from my eyes. “Eleanor… cough… Eleanor…” “Shh, it’s okay,” she said, her voice receding. “I’ll just give him the mask, and then I’ll come right back for you.” The smoke was a suffocating curtain. I crawled towards the door, my lungs on fire. Through the haze, I saw a familiar silhouette being supported by Eleanor, guided gently down the stairs. “Cough… Eleanor…” You said you’d just give him the mask! “Is anyone else up there?” I heard a firefighter’s voice through the roar. “Yes… yes… I’m… here…” My voice was a raw, useless rasp. Then I heard her voice, a familiar sound, answering for me. “No one. Just get him to safety.” My world went silent. The blood in my veins turned to ice.

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Leo and I were never anything special growing up. Just two perfectly ordinary kids from a perfectly ordinary town. But we both had big dreams. In high school, I set my sights on the handsome, popular rich kid, and he fell for the beautiful heiress. We clicked instantly, forming an alliance to help each other climb the social ladder. Years later, we’d made it. I was the girlfriend of Bob Thorne, CEO of the Thorne Group, and Leo was being vetted to marry into the Beaumont family, working at their company under the watchful eye of Vivian Beaumont herself. Life was smooth sailing for two years. Then, Leo and I hit the exact same roadblock. Bob’s childhood sweetheart came back from abroad. And Vivian’s old college flame returned home, too. 1 “Sigh…” Leo and I both rested our chins in our hands, a synchronized sigh escaping our lips. “What is it with living abroad?” Leo grumbled, completely baffled. “It’s like a factory for producing bombshells that drop back into your life out of nowhere.” “I’ve been by Vivian’s side for five whole years,” he continued, shaking his head. “I’ve traveled with her, shopped with her, worked with her. I’ve never once heard her mention some unforgettable ‘Ethan’ from college.” I nodded in solidarity. “Three years as Bob’s girlfriend, and I’ve met every friend and family member he has. Not a single peep about a childhood sweetheart named Isabelle.” Just as we were about to solidify our positions, these new rivals had appeared. This was our third strategy session. Life had definitely gotten harder since they’d returned. As if on cue, both our phones buzzed. We glanced down at our screens. “Isabelle stole another one of my design contracts,” I moaned. “I just don’t get it. She’s a jewelry designer. What is she doing poaching my interior design clients?” Leo, on the other hand, was unnervingly calm. “Ethan was brought in as a director. I’ve been reassigned. It was expected.” He was actually smiling. I stared at him. “Are you okay?” “It’s a good chance to take a break.” Leo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Things at the company are a mess right now. Better to let him navigate the minefield.” I understood. The Beaumont family only had one daughter, and she had zero interest in running the business. The shareholders were ambitious, the internal politics were a snake pit. I’d been shocked when Leo first managed to gain a foothold there; I had no idea my old friend was so capable. “What about you?” he asked, finishing his iced tea and starting on a slice of cheesecake. “Anyone can see Isabelle is targeting you.” Me? I let out a small laugh. “She’s the darling princess everyone adores. All I can do is lie low and steer clear of the drama for now.” Besides, while Isabelle’s petty moves were an annoyance to my design studio, they weren’t a major blow. It had taken a mountain of effort, and finally leveraging my status as Bob’s girlfriend, to open my own studio in the first place. My first wave of clients all came from him—his circle of rich friends and business partners. He gave me a shot, and I ran with it. That’s how I got to where I am today. We both got our start through connections. It wouldn’t be fair for me to use them and then complain when his precious childhood sweetheart did the same. And if you really thought about it, Bob’s friends were Isabelle’s childhood friends, too. I had no desire to go up against a pack of trust-fund kids. Their logic could be terrifying. Leo finished his cake and started scrolling through his phone. “You should go,” he said, waving me off. “I’m on vacation. I can finally just chill on my phone guilt-free.” He was watching fishing videos. I rolled my eyes and padded away in my fluffy slippers. 2 When I got home, Bob wasn’t back yet. Ever since Isabelle returned, their little social circle seemed to be trapped in a non-stop party vortex. If it wasn’t a gala, it was a dinner party. If it wasn’t a dinner party, it was a wild night at some club. I’d gone from confused to completely numb. I was used to it. I wracked my brain but couldn’t remember what today’s special occasion was. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through our chat history. Ah, right. It was the birthday of some pop star Isabelle was obsessed with. Bob and his friends had hired the celebrity so Isabelle could personally celebrate with him. For a second, I actually felt sorry for the pop star, being forced to work on his own birthday. But then I remembered that making money is never easy, and I promptly called my personal masseuse to treat myself. I was lying on the sofa, deep in a state of bliss from the massage, when Bob walked in. He had a strange look on his face. He placed a gift bag on the sofa. “Isabelle told me everything. She didn’t mean to take your design contract. She was just testing her own skills. Don’t overthink it.” I opened the bag. Inside was a beautiful gold bangle. It looked gorgeous on my wrist. I looked up at him and smiled warmly. “It’s fine. We have a backlog of projects at the studio anyway. The team is swamped.” Bob stroked my hair, satisfied. “Have you eaten? I can call The Garden and have them send over your favorite king crab.” “I’ve already eaten,” I said. “Go get changed into something comfortable. I brought you some soup. You should have it while it’s hot.” It was really just leftovers I’d packed for myself, but the gold bangle had earned him a share. I shooed him away and went back to admiring my new prize. It was so pretty. A hand like mine was made for gold bangles. As for the contract Isabelle stole, I was laughing my head off on the inside. You see, the client was one of Bob’s trust-fund buddies. He was a decent enough guy—quiet, reliable—but a total mama’s boy. The last time my team designed a retail space for him, his mother was there for what felt like twenty hours a day, “supervising.” Her demands were endless, bizarre, and enough to make you want to tear your hair out. Worse, she demanded premium quality at bargain-basement prices and was a master of haggling and guilt trips. We were no match for her. By the time the project was done, we’d barely broken even. So, the moment I heard he’d bought his mother a new villa, I happily shared the news in our company-wide group chat. Within three days, every single design team had magically found other projects to work on. For Isabelle to swoop in and take that nightmare client off our hands? I wanted to give her a round of applause. 3 The next morning, as soon as I walked into the office, my best friend and lead designer, Maya, rushed over to poke me. “So, your Bob was out again last night, wasn’t he?” “Ooh, what happened this time?” A few other colleagues gathered around, their eyes gleaming. I gave my nosy friends an elegant eye-roll. “You guys are doing this on purpose, aren’t you? What else could it be? Another party for Isabelle.” I casually stretched, making sure my new gold bangle was on full display. “A little something I got yesterday.” “Nice,” Maya said, giving me a thumbs-up. “How many does that make?” “Seventeen,” I answered after a quick mental count. “Whoa…” “Bob’s taste is a little basic, though.” “It’s a gold bangle. It’s always going to look good.” “Any boyfriend who buys you solid gold is a keeper.” Maya leaned in conspiratorially. “Seriously, Senta, you’re not bothered by this whole thing with him and Isabelle? Look at this…” She showed me her phone. A photo slideshow on Isabelle’s TikTok had gone viral. There were pictures of her singing with the pop star, laughing and drinking with all the rich kids, and of course, a shot of her and Bob standing incredibly close. The caption read: ‘The most important people, my favorite people, all by my side. Another lucky day.’ Looked like they had a great time. I tapped her with a file folder. “Get back to work before this capitalist has to dock your pay.” That’s right. I’d leveled up from a workhorse to a capitalist. So even if things with Bob didn’t work out, I could always find another man. For the past three years, I’d been working tirelessly to cash in on the title of ‘Bob Thorne’s girlfriend’—networking with his family, his friends, his resources. I’d learned so much from him, acquired assets, and found investment opportunities. I had already gained more than I ever expected. My parents were open-minded and happily ran a little countryside inn, content with their comfortable life. My reliable relatives worked on my construction teams, and my wildly creative best friend was on my design team. They were even more dedicated to the company than I was, working diligently day in and day out. I guess because I never really lacked for love growing up—I was always surrounded by family and friends—romance has always been a ‘blessing if I have it, fate if I lose it’ kind of thing for me. Bob was a good man, and he was good to me. But if we didn’t end up together, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Still, it was starting to get on my nerves. 4 That evening, I treated the entire office to a buffet to celebrate dodging a difficult client. The city lights were just starting to glitter as we arrived. Maya linked her arm through mine, chattering away about her mom trying to set her up on dates. The dinner was great, right up until Maya nudged me again. “Hey, isn’t that your Bob over there?” I followed her gaze. Across the street, in front of a fancy hotel, stood Bob. A woman in a flowing white dress threw her arms around him, and the two of them started walking inside, talking intimately. I took out my phone, snapped a picture, and sent it to him. A second later, my phone rang. “Senta, where are you?” “Look to your left, darling,” I said, my voice perfectly calm. Through the massive glass window of the restaurant, I gave him a little wave. I saw him gently push the woman away and start explaining. “Don’t misunderstand. It’s Isabelle. You know I’ve always seen her as a little sister.” What he didn’t see was Isabelle, standing beside him, shooting me a triumphant smirk as she pretended to be upset, clinging to his arm. She leaned in and whispered something to him, her voice a theatrical pout. “Senta, please don’t be mad at Bob. We were just going to meet Mrs. Sterling to discuss the initial design concepts.” Bob pulled the phone away from his ear. “Senta won’t mind. You go on ahead and order Mrs. Sterling’s favorite dishes. I’ll just have a quick word with her.” Leaving Isabelle behind, he crossed the street and walked into the buffet restaurant. As always, he greeted my employees warmly before sliding into the seat next to me. He took my hand. “Should I have someone drive you home later?” he asked gently. “Don’t drink too much.” I smiled, smoothly pulling my hand away to pick up my wine glass. “No need. It’s girls’ night. I’ll be home late. You should go. Don’t keep your ‘little sister’ Isabelle waiting.” I propped my chin on my hand, my voice dripping with sarcasm, and gave him a slow once-over before turning away. Bob’s expression remained calm. He put his arm around my waist and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t be out too late.” The moment he left, everyone at the table stared at me. I found it amusing. “What? Want to gossip about the boss? I’ll have to dock your pay.” They immediately lost interest and went back to their food. Maya blinked at me. “You’re really okay?” “I really am,” I sighed. I guess from the very beginning, I never truly believed Bob and I would last. Everything happening now felt… acceptable. Almost like a sense of relief that the other shoe had finally dropped. After dinner, instead of going home, I went back to Maya’s apartment to binge-watch a show and gossip. That night, I shared the day’s events with Leo. He sent me a photo of Vivian having dinner with Ethan. Suddenly, I felt a whole lot better. Misery really does love company. We spent the next hour sending each other about eight hundred complaint-filled texts before finally calming down enough to analyze the situation. Leo: [I don’t think you can win against this Isabelle girl.] Me: [And I don’t think you can win against Ethan. He’s ridiculously handsome in that photo.] Leo: [A man’s appeal is his competence.] Me: [And Vivian clearly thinks he’s super competent! Why else would he be hired as a director out of the blue?] Leo sent me a hammer GIF, followed by a link to a trending topic about Isabelle and Bob. The headline: ‘Thorne Heir Introduces Girlfriend to Family Elders.’ I was silent for a moment, then sent Leo a GIF of a bloody butcher knife. Having thoroughly wounded each other, we both decided to cool off. I scrolled through my phone for a bit. Maya sidled up to me with a conspiratorial grin, holding a box. “Hey, stay over tonight.” “Why?” I asked, feigning suspicion. She giggled. “I’ve been learning mixology. Let’s get drunk!” I laughed. I knew she’d been binging cocktail-making videos, trying to cultivate a more artistic vibe. “Alright, but first, let’s see the snacks.” We checked to make sure the apartment was secure, then laid out a spread of fruit, crackers, appetizers, and bottles of liquor in every color. Later, when the world was starting to feel fuzzy, my phone rang. I forced myself to sit up, rubbing my forehead. “What is it?” There was a pause on the other end, then Bob’s voice. “Senta, I’m not coming home tonight. Isabelle ran into some problems with work, and I’m staying to help her.” The alcohol hit me harder than I expected. A sneer escaped my lips. “Wow, Mr. Thorne, a man of many talents. I didn’t realize you knew anything about design.” “I…” Bob started to say something. But my patience had run out. “Whatever. Have fun, Bob.” I hung up. It was pointless to waste any more energy on this. Isabelle’s triumphant attitude was obvious to everyone except Bob, who was willfully blind. His friends and family were all actively trying to set them up, pushing me to the side. Whether Bob realized it or not, the traces of my existence in his life were slowly being erased. I sighed. What could I do when they were all working together against me? Look, if they wanted to, they could ensure I never even saw Bob’s face. I’ve never been one to torture myself. The realization sent a brief, wild surge of anger through me, but then I thought about the good life I’d built for myself, and the anger subsided into a calm acceptance. Then another thought occurred to me. Maybe Bob was just waiting for me to take the hint and bow out gracefully.

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When my birth parents showed up to claim me, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. “From what I’ve seen, the long-lost daughter never wins against the perfect, adopted one,” I told them, my expression grim. “She usually ends up miserable, or worse. I think I’ll pass.” They rushed to reassure me. “Don’t be silly, dear. Vivian is so gentle and kind. We’re sure you two will get along wonderfully.” I nodded slowly and pulled out my phone. “To prepare for the possibility that she tries to ruin my life, you’ll need to familiarize yourselves with the classic ‘evil adopted sister’ playbook. Here are one hundred ‘Real vs. Fake Heiress’ web dramas. Watch them all, and then I’ll consider coming home with you.” After binge-watching the entire playlist, my parents were horrified. “This is all just trashy fiction,” my mother insisted, though her voice wavered. “Vivian would never do any of these things.” I gave a noncommittal shrug and produced a document. “Then you won’t mind signing this. It’s a compensation agreement. For every time I’m victimized, you pay me. Five thousand for a false accusation. Ten thousand for a minor injury. Major injuries will be negotiated separately.” 1 Convinced I was overthinking things, my parents signed without a second thought. It didn’t take long for them to regret it. I hadn’t been in the Lockwood mansion for more than thirty minutes before Vivian announced that her necklace was missing. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her voice trembling, as if I’d already subjected her to unspeakable cruelty. “Sophia,” she pleaded, “that platinum necklace was a birthday gift from Mom and Dad. Please, just give it back! I know you’re their real daughter now. You can have anything else, just not that…” My parents’ brows furrowed instantly, and they turned to me, ready to launch an interrogation. I wordlessly pulled out my phone, cued up one of the web dramas, and held it out to them. “See?” I said, my voice flat. “The classic ‘framing for theft’ plotline. It’s right here.” They froze, the accusations dying on their lips. They exchanged an awkward glance. “Vivian, dear, why don’t you look again?” my mother said, forcing a smile. “I’m sure your sister wouldn’t take your things.” Vivian stared, utterly stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected them to take my side. “So you all think I’m lying? I get it,” she wailed. “Now that your real daughter is back, you don’t want me anymore. Why am I even still here?” She shot up and bolted for the door. I scrubbed the progress bar on the video. “The ‘running away from home’ gambit. Also in the playbook.” Vivian’s footsteps faltered for a split second before she burst into louder sobs and vanished into the night. “Vivian! It’s dangerous outside! Come back!” my father yelled, chasing after her so frantically that one of his loafers flew off his foot. My mother’s eyes filled with tears as she turned on me. “Sophia, Vivian is your sister. You are both my precious daughters. Can’t you just be a little nicer to her?” I was genuinely confused. “She’s the one not being nice to me. She accused me of being a thief…” My mother cut me off. “Vivian is feeling insecure right now. As her older sister, you need to be more understanding.” “You mean I should have taken the blame for stealing?” She sighed. “Whatever happened, just apologize to her when she gets back. She’s never had to suffer a day in her life. I can’t imagine how upset she must be.” “Forcing the innocent party to apologize to the guilty one,” I said, tapping my phone screen. “A very common trope in these dramas.” My mother’s face went stiff. She didn’t dare say another word. I didn’t forget our agreement. I opened my Venmo app. “Five thousand for the false accusation. You can pay me now.” 2 I heard Dad found Vivian under a bridge, soaked to the bone by a sudden downpour, her face pale and shivering. When he carried her back inside, she threw herself onto her bed, thrashing and crying. “Leave me alone! You all love Sophia now, not me!” My mother’s heart broke. She wrapped Vivian in a thick towel, cooing and pleading with her to change into dry clothes. My father kept pressing his hand to her forehead, checking for a fever. “Hush now, Vivian, don’t cry,” he soothed. “It’s just a necklace. Daddy will buy you a whole new set of diamond jewelry, how about that?” “Whether Sophia is here or not, you will always be Mommy and Daddy’s little princess.” At that, Vivian’s tears flowed anew. “Promise you’re not lying?” My mother hugged her tightly, sobbing along with her. I got it then. The dramas were real. In the face of favoritism, blood ties were weightless. Thank God I had prepared myself, or the pain would have been unbearable. My father noticed me sitting quietly in the corner, making no move to help. His face hardened. “Sophia, we are a family! Are you just going to sit there and watch your sister suffer?” I shrugged. “What would you like me to do?” “Go to the kitchen and bring the hot soup Martha made.” A simple enough task. I considered it a good deed. I went to the kitchen and returned with a steaming bowl, holding it out for Vivian. She picked up the spoon, but just as she was about to take a sip, she shot me a defiant, triumphant glare from an angle my parents couldn’t see. Here we go. This was the prelude to another classic fake-heiress scheme. I remained perfectly still, curious to see what she had planned. Sure enough, she hooked her index finger over the rim of the bowl, and the scalding soup tipped directly onto her lap. “It’s hot! It’s burning me! Sophia, you…” Vivian’s face twisted in a mask of shock and pain, as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. My father rushed over and shoved me so hard I stumbled. “Sophia Lockwood! Are you insane? How could you do that to your own sister?” I crashed into the corner of a wall, a large lump immediately forming on my forehead. He looked ready to hit me, but my mother grabbed his arm. “Sophia, you were wrong,” she said sternly. “Apologize to your sister right now!” I said nothing. I just unlocked my phone and pulled up the scene where the fake heiress uses a self-harm ploy to drive a wedge between the real heiress and her parents. “Short-term memory loss?” I asked coolly. “You two forget quickly.” “Well…” My parents exchanged a look, and the demand for an apology died in their throats. They busied themselves finding burn cream and fresh pajamas for Vivian. No one noticed the angry, swelling bruise on my forehead. Once the chaos subsided, another ten thousand dollars landed in my Venmo account. Not bad. Fifteen thousand on my first day home. 3 Riddled with guilt, my parents spent the next three days doting on me. Vivian, too, did a complete one-eighty. It was “Sophia this” and “Sophia that,” acting as if I were her favorite person in the world. My parents were thrilled. “See? Vivian is so mature. That’s our good girl.” As a reward for her excellent behavior, they bought her a mountain of luxury goods. On the fourth day, my new little brother, Aiden, returned from a school trip, eagerly showing off the gifts he’d brought back. “A lighter for Dad, perfume for Mom, and a silk scarf for my sister! I remembered all your favorites!” Everyone received an exquisitely wrapped present. Except for me. Seeing the four of them looking like a perfect, happy family, I quietly started to head back to my room. My mother finally noticed my retreating figure. “Aiden!” she gasped. “Didn’t you get a gift for your sister Sophia?” Aiden pouted. “I only have one sister, and her name is Vivian.” Just then, my grandfather walked in and overheard him. His temper flared instantly. The old man placed a premium on bloodlines, and Aiden’s ear was about to pay the price. “You little brat!” my grandfather roared, twisting Aiden’s ear. “Who taught you to talk like that? Sophia is your real sister! Vivian is just a girl we happened to raise. An outsider! Don’t you know the difference between family and a guest? I ought to thrash you!” The word “outsider” struck Vivian like a dagger. She didn’t dare talk back to our grandfather, so she just glared at me, her eyes burning with resentment. Aiden howled in pain. “I don’t know what an outsider is! Vivian is my only sister!” Grandfather twisted harder. Hearing their son’s pig-like squeals, my parents’ hearts broke. They begged Grandfather to let go. “Dad, please, calm down! We’ll talk to Aiden, we’ll teach him…” “Hmph!” Grandfather couldn’t stand to see his grandson cry either. He let go and pulled me over to the sofa. Surveying the scene, he quickly understood. “My granddaughter is the only one without a gift? Unbelievable. The nerve of you people. Sophia, don’t you worry. Grandpa’s got your back! The Lockwood family heirlooms are for you and you alone. No one else gets a thing!” Vivian’s face crumpled, tears welling in her eyes. My mother spoke up cautiously. “Shouldn’t Vivian also get…” Grandfather cut her off. “My possessions are for Lockwoods only. Some people have impure hearts. The sooner they’re sent away, the better.” Even with her thick skin, Vivian couldn’t take it. She fled to her room, sobbing. My father grumbled at Grandfather. “You were too harsh. I watched Vivian grow up. I know what kind of person she is better than you do.” “You brainless fool,” Grandfather sneered. “How did I ever raise such an idiot?” 4 After that incident, my new little brother despised me even more. He put bugs in my water glass, squeezed superglue into my slippers, and hid my homework. I didn’t care in the slightest. In fact, I secretly hoped he’d keep it up. Every time he played a prank, my parents had to Venmo me. All told, I’d amassed a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Aiden was practically vibrating with rage. “What kind of sister are you? Did you just come to this family to make money?” Yes, I answered silently. With this money, I could pay for my mom’s surgery. My real mom. The one who raised me. She’d been suffering from debilitating arthritis for years and desperately needed bilateral knee replacements. I’d looked into it. The surgery would cost half a million dollars. But that wonderful, foolish woman refused to take a cent from the Lockwoods, afraid it would make me look bad in their eyes. “I’ll never accept you, you country bumpkin!” Aiden shouted, then ran off to find Vivian. From a distance, I saw them playing together in the garden. I watched from behind a tree for a few minutes before settling down to do my homework. Not long after, I heard Aiden’s faint cries for help. Without a second thought, I took off running. He was flailing in the swimming pool, gulping down water, on the verge of sinking. Vivian was standing on the edge, frozen in a state of shock, just crying. The pool wasn’t deep for me. I jumped in and hauled Aiden to the side without even getting my hair wet. My parents, hearing the commotion, rushed out, their faces white with terror. “Aiden! What happened?” Aiden sputtered, spitting out chlorinated water, and pointed a trembling finger at me. “It was her! She pushed me in! She wanted to get back at me!” “What?” They looked horrified. “Vivian, is that true?” Vivian neither confirmed nor denied it. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t see clearly…” My father lost control. He slapped me hard across the face. “Sophia Lockwood! The boy plays a few pranks on you, and you try to kill him?!” “Is your heart made of stone?!” My mother opened her mouth to speak, then closed it with a sigh. I pursed my lips, pulled a micro-camera from my hair, and turned on my phone’s screen. “You can judge me after you’ve seen this.” The footage clearly showed me running to Aiden’s rescue only after hearing his cries for help. I was nowhere near him when he fell in. My father was speechless, his hand that had struck me hanging uselessly by his side. “Oh, dear, why didn’t you show us this earlier?” my mother murmured. Why do you think? If I’d shown it earlier, I wouldn’t have gotten slapped. And if I hadn’t gotten slapped, I wouldn’t have gotten paid. Ten thousand dollars for a slap in the face. A bargain. “Sophia, why on earth did you have a camera in your hair?” my mother asked. I smiled. “Came in handy, didn’t it?” Her expression faltered. She turned her anger on Aiden. “You little liar! I’m going to spank you raw!” Vivian shot Aiden a look. He immediately grabbed our father’s leg and started wailing. “I was confused, I swallowed too much water! I’m sorry, Sophia, please forgive me!” My mother gave him a few half-hearted swats. “Of course your sister will forgive you! Just don’t you go making things up again!” I had no time for their little performance. I just held out my phone. My father paid up without protest. Because his slap had been so forceful, leaving a truly impressive mark on my face, he even added an extra ten thousand. Such a generous client. 5 After being wrongly accused time and time again, my parents’ guilt reached its zenith. They decided to hold a press conference to officially announce my identity as the true Lockwood heiress. Every media outlet in the city showed up. The event was a circus. My parents flanked me, placing me center stage. They were beaming. Only Aiden stood off to the side, scowling. Just as my father raised the microphone to speak, I silently counted down in my head: 3, 2, 1. Right on cue, his phone rang. I’m not a psychic. It’s just how it always happens in the dramas. His face went pale as he answered. “Vivian’s been in a car accident! Quick! We have to get to Lockwood General!” My mother nearly collapsed. She grabbed my hand and Aiden’s, stumbling after my father as he sprinted out. At the hospital, Vivian lay in bed, her eyes closed, looking like she was peacefully asleep. Her face was as white as the sheets, and her leg was encased in a thick cast. My parents were terrified. They rushed to her bedside. “Vivian! Oh, my baby, are you okay? Open your eyes, look at Mommy and Daddy!” Vivian didn’t move. A doctor in a white coat entered the room, his expression grave. “Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood, your daughter has lost a lot of blood. She needs an AB-type transfusion immediately. The hospital’s blood bank is running low. We need to find a donor, fast.” My mother whipped her head around to look at me. “Sophia, your blood type is AB, isn’t it?” Heh. I twisted my lips into a smirk. “Donating blood, giving up a kidney, faking a near-death experience… does none of this feel familiar to you?” This was obviously another plot aimed at me. I was about to pull out my phone to show them the relevant drama clip, but my father swiped it out of my hand. “Is this really the time for that? Are you so cold-hearted you’d just watch your sister die?” I picked my phone up off the floor and held up five fingers. “Fifty thousand dollars. Give me fifty thousand, and I’ll donate four hundred milliliters.” Aiden started punching and kicking me. “I knew it! You just came here for the money! You horrible woman!” My mother was crying, heartbroken. She couldn’t understand why I would demand such a thing. “Sophia,” she said, her voice strained. “Must we talk about money between family?” My father’s disappointment in me was absolute. “Forget it,” he roared, his voice thick with desperation. “Give me your payment info! Take the money! Just go give the blood!” I quietly accepted the transfer and obediently followed the doctor out of the room. The three of them huddled around Vivian, not one of them sparing a thought for whether it was safe for me to donate so much blood. After the four hundred milliliters were drawn, my head started to spin. I reached to pull out the needle. The doctor’s hand clamped down on mine. “Don’t move. We need another thousand milliliters.” My internal alarm bells went haywire. “Fourteen hundred milliliters at once? That’s a fatal amount…” Two nurses appeared silently at my side, clamping a hand over my mouth. In a flash of terrifying clarity, I understood. This was a setup. As more and more blood drained from my body, the world started to go dark. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the door bursting open and a figure knocking the doctor to the ground with a single punch.

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1 My friends said marrying Claire would hand my parents their dream of grandkids on a silver platter. But my nineteenth proposal failed, like all before it, because of Leo, the son of her old college friend. People even wondered if he was her secret child. Each time, I’d explain, “She feels she owes his father, Gerry, who once saved her life.” At the theater, a slideshow of our sweetest moments played, but the air was heavy. When Claire finally arrived, half the guests had left. “Sorry,” she said, “Leo needed extra help with his times tables.” I expected the same sharp disappointment, but felt only deep exhaustion. I nodded and went to pay for the empty theater. She stopped me. “Let me get this.” I shook my head. “It’s fine.” Then she said casually, “I think we should postpone our wedding… Actually, today I married Leo’s father. It helps his custody case.” She held out the marriage certificate. My mind went blank, one thought surfacing: Do I really have to marry this woman? … “It’s just on paper,” she continued, oblivious. “Once the custody case is over…” “You’ll divorce him and marry me?” I cut her off, a twisted, ugly smile pulling at my lips. She froze for a second, but her attention was quickly stolen by Leo, who had started to fuss in her arms. “That man stinks, Mommy! I don’t wanna be here!” he whined. “Let’s go home! I want you and Daddy to read me a story together!” His sticky candy hands smeared all over her coat, and he even managed to yank out a few strands of her hair. But this was the same Claire who once threw a fit because I’d hugged her without taking off my coat first. This time, she didn’t even flinch. Her entire world was focused on cooing at the boy. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll go home right now.” Once Leo quieted down, she turned back to me, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “What kind of man wears cologne like that? Leo can’t stand the smell. Don’t wear it again.” Then she added, as an afterthought, “And get rid of all the bottles you have at home before I come over.” She had completely forgotten. This cologne was her first-anniversary gift to me. Or maybe, it was just something she’d picked up on a whim. Maybe I was the only one who had ever felt anything. The only one who had been drowning in the scraps of attention she let slip through her fingers, forcing myself to paint her neglect as love, to believe this relationship had a future. Claire shifted Leo higher in her arms, settling him more comfortably on her hip. Her gaze swept over me, as flat and impersonal as a manager giving orders to an underling. “I’ve explained the situation. Gerry has dinner waiting at home. I’m leaving now.” She walked away with the unhurried pace of someone who had just checked a task off her list, leaving me behind like a subordinate with no right to speak. And suddenly, I felt so tired. A profound exhaustion that seeped from my very bones. I drove home on autopilot. The moment I pushed open the door, my parents’ expectant faces greeted me. Their eyes instinctively darted to the space behind me, searching. But there was nothing there. Only emptiness. The joy that had just begun to light up their faces instantly vanished. My mom forced a smile as she came to take my coat. “It’s okay, honey. Claire’s a teacher. She has so many children to look after. It’s normal for her to be busy.” She patted my arm. “Good things take time. Good things take time.” My dad let out a heavy sigh and turned to start taking down the festive decorations that filled the room. Over the past two years, for each failed proposal, these same decorations had been put up and taken down, taken down and put up. The new house we’d bought for our marriage was a mess, the walls scarred with the residue of tape from countless aborted celebrations. The last time Claire had even been here was months ago, when she’d left in the middle of dinner to rush Leo to the hospital for a sudden fever. She came back later to apologize, and my mother had gently advised, “It would be good to settle things soon.” Claire’s face had darkened instantly. She called my mom an “old-fashioned relic who only knows how to push people into marriage,” accusing her of lecturing a schoolteacher when she’d barely finished high school herself. She never came back after that. My mom had blamed herself ever since, convinced that Claire kept refusing me because of that one comment. But I knew the truth. I thought of how Claire always arrived at Gerry’s parents’ house laden with expensive gifts, how she’d even compiled an entire binder detailing their favorite foods, hobbies, and medical conditions. And I looked at my own parents, their hearts just as broken as mine, trying so desperately to hide their disappointment so they wouldn’t upset me. A tidal wave of guilt crashed over me, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My mom carefully took down the framed photo of Claire and me that sat in the center of the living room, about to place it in a dust-proof box. I took the frame from her hands and looked at it one last time. Who would have believed that in three years together, this was our only photo? And it only existed because I had sponsored her school’s summer camp. As the official sponsor, I was allowed to attend the activities, and later, I had to crop this picture of the two of us from a group shot of over fifty people. In the photo, I was finally standing beside her, my smile overflowing with pure joy. But she was staring off into the distance, her expression grim and worried, because it was the first time Leo had been away from Gerry for so long, and he wouldn’t stop crying. I thought of Gerry’s social media feed, where he posted a gallery of photos almost every day. In every single one, Claire was beaming like the morning sun. I felt like a complete and utter fool. Without a second thought, I tossed the photo frame into the trash. My mom gasped, thinking I’d dropped it by accident. She moved to pick it up. I stopped her. “Mom, leave it.” “I’m done waiting.” 2 My mom stared at me, her eyes clouded with confusion and worry. “What happened today…?” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Claire married Gerry. They registered it today.” The air in the living room froze. My dad slammed a string of party lights onto the floor. “This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! What does she think our family is? Her backup plan? Her second choice?” I lowered my head, my voice catching in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through these past few years.” My mom came over and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she whispered. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters to us.” Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Claire. My dad, his face a thundercloud, reached to end the call, but my mom shot him a look and pulled him back into their room. “Let them talk it out,” I heard her say. “He needs to close this chapter so she can’t keep wasting his time.” I answered the call. But the voice on the other end wasn’t Claire’s. It was Gerry. “Alex,” he said, his tone oozing smug satisfaction. “Claire had a little too much to drink with my parents tonight. She got caught up in the conversation. She’ll be staying here with me.” My hand clenched around the phone, and I fought back the hot sting of tears. “Why are you telling me this? You’re her husband now.” My response seemed to delight him, his voice deepening with amusement. “Oh, so Claire already told you? She’s really something. It was supposed to just be for the judge, but I guess she couldn’t wait to break the news.” He chuckled. “Don’t get the wrong idea, though. We’re just a pretend couple. You didn’t get all jealous and start a fight with her, did you? That would explain why she drank so much tonight…” “Get to the point,” I bit out, my voice ragged. He fell silent for a moment. Then, in the background, I heard Claire’s sleepy murmur. “Gerry, I’m so hot… Can you help me change…?” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, streaming down my face. Gerry must have heard me, because his voice dripped with even more triumph. “Sorry about that. I was just calling to ask for the recipe for that hangover soup you make for her. It’s the only one she’ll drink. And, you know… to explain the whole marriage thing.” “Claire’s got enough on her plate with her students,” he went on, his voice a condescending drawl. “As men, we need to be a little more understanding, don’t you think?” Claire seemed to stir, her voice clearer now. “Is that Alex on the phone?” There was a rustling sound, and then the phone was in her hand. Her voice was thick with irritation. “Alex, I already told you I married Gerry today. I have to meet his family and make it look convincing. If the judge finds out it’s a sham marriage, the consequences are serious.” “Can’t you be more like Gerry? Stop being so paranoid all the time and give me a break. Once the custody battle is…” “When?” I roared, cutting her off. All the pent-up frustration, all the humiliation of the past three years, finally exploded. “When what, Claire?” I screamed into the phone. “When you stand me up again because Leo can’t remember that one plus one equals two? When you miss my parents’ sixtieth birthday to comfort Gerry over his divorce? When you ignore our thirty friends waiting for us and drive hundreds of miles just to buy Leo the perfect eraser?” “Claire, how much longer do you expect me to wait?” “Until I’m on my deathbed? Or until Gerry is on his?” Sobs ripped through me, raw and uncontrollable. I sank to the floor by the sofa, clutching my head. “Why should I have to wait, Claire? Why the hell should I wait for you?” “I’m telling you right now, I’m done! I’m fucking done waiting!” 3 “I hope you and your precious Gerry live happily ever after! You want to repay your debt to him so badly? Then chain yourself to him for life and stop ruining other people’s!” The line went silent for a long moment. Then, Claire’s voice, cold and sharp as ice, cut through the phone. “Alex, I never forced you to wait for me. Don’t you dare try to pin all the blame on me.” “And if you don’t want to give Gerry the soup recipe, that’s fine, but you have no right to take your anger out on him. Apologize to him. Now.” I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. She hadn’t heard a single word I’d said. She still thought this was about jealousy. About a stupid hangover soup recipe. Maybe it was because after every one of our nineteen previous fights, I had always been the one to crawl back, to beg her for forgiveness. Maybe it had given her the illusion that I would never, ever leave. I slammed the end call button, and a wave of relief, the first I’d felt in years, washed over me. On the other end, Claire stared at her phone, the dial tone buzzing in her ear. Disbelief registered on her face. Her alcohol-fogged brain was slowly processing my words, the raw anguish in my voice. Her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. A knot of unease tightened in her stomach, and she felt a sudden, urgent need to go to my house, to explain everything in person. But as she stood up, Leo padded out from the kitchen, carefully carrying a bowl of soup. She rushed over and took it from him. “Leo, sweetie, you should let the nanny get things like this for you. You could get hurt.” “But Mommy,” he pouted, “you married Daddy now. Why are you still calling yourself the nanny? You’re going to make me mad!” Claire faltered. Just then, Gerry emerged from the kitchen, an apron tied around his waist. Her gaze flickered to him, and after a long pause, she slowly nodded at the boy. “Okay,” she said softly. “Then Mommy will drink the soup with you, how about that?” At midnight, a new post from Gerry popped up on my social media feed. The caption read: “My family.” The picture was of Claire, holding Leo, patiently feeding him soup with a small spoon. Gerry stood beside them, beaming at the camera. I felt nothing. My heart was a calm, still lake. I left a single comment—“Congratulations on the wedding”—then turned off my phone and fell asleep. I thought that was it. That a final, definitive period had been placed at the end of our story, and all that was left was for time to slowly erase her from my life. But then, on a cold day right before the holidays, a bouquet of 999 red roses was delivered to my house. I assumed they were from the woman my parents had set me up with, so I took a picture and posted it online. Caption: “Looks like someone’s ready to get married.” A comment from Claire appeared instantly: “I’m glad you like them.” My face fell. I deleted the post as fast as I could. But it was too late. My phone was already ringing. It was her. “Did you get the flowers?” she asked, her voice cautious. I didn’t answer her question. “What do you want?” My bluntness seemed to catch her off guard. She paused, then pressed on. “Leo’s custody hearing is next week. Gerry said it’s a sure thing.” “Once the case is over, we’ll go get a divorce.” “And then what?” I asked, my voice flat. Hearing my response, Claire seemed to think I was just being sarcastic, but the fact that I was engaging at all gave her a flicker of hope. I could hear the relief in her voice. “Alex, don’t worry,” she said, her words rushing out. “I promise I won’t be late this time!” She sounded so sure of herself. But the very next day, a wedding invitation from Gerry landed in my inbox. 4 I stared at the invitation, a design I had dreamed of a thousand times for my own wedding. But now, it featured a photo of two other people, locked in a passionate embrace. Gerry and Claire. The memories, sharp and painful, came flooding back. All those times I had offered up my heart, only to have it drenched in ice-cold indifference. My hands started to tremble. I remembered my first proposal. The cheers of our friends, me down on one knee, the ring box already open in my hand. Then Claire’s phone rang with that special ringtone she’d set for him, and without a moment’s hesitation, she turned and ran, leaving me kneeling in a crowd of our stunned friends. The second proposal. Worried that Leo might get hurt if he was out of her sight, she brought him with her. He ended up choking on a glass of water and had to be rushed to the hospital. The third. A friend suggested I surprise her, so I chose a movie theater. I painstakingly edited three years of footage down to a two-minute highlight reel of our happiest moments, ready to propose the second the credits rolled. But Claire didn’t even make it through the opening scene. Leo was upset about getting a bad grade in math, so she snuck out with him and took him to an amusement park. We couldn’t reach her for hours and ended up calling the police, thinking something terrible had happened. The fourth time… The fifth… Each broken promise, each casual disregard, was another knife twisting in my heart. I remembered that just a few days after the amusement park fiasco, I saw a video of them online. A local news crew was interviewing people at the park. The reporter leaned down to Leo. “Hey there, little guy! It’s Valentine’s Day! Did your daddy get your mommy a gift?” Leo, his eyes wide, chirped excitedly, “He did! Daddy gave Mommy a kiss!” And Claire, standing right beside him, just offered a shy, complicit smile. Back then, I had hypnotized myself into believing it was just a kid talking, that I couldn’t trust it unless I saw it with my own eyes. But now, here it was. The proof, preserved in a photograph, printed on an invitation sent to every single person we knew. I finally understood. Some things, no matter how hard you fight for them, are just not meant to be. Waiting for someone to come back to you is the most foolish act of all. Two weeks later, I ran into Gerry at the entrance to City Hall. He looked sour, and a flash of malice crossed his face when he saw me. He stared for a beat, then let out a smirk. “Alex. Still playing the devoted puppy, I see.” “What are you, a stalker now? You really think if you just wait long enough, Claire will come running back to you?” He leaned in, his voice dripping with scorn. “I bet you don’t even know. All your so-called friends, the ones who got our invitation? They’ve started a bunch of private group chats just to laugh at you, the guy who wasted years for nothing.” I had been about to ignore him and walk past, but his words stopped me. Did he really think I was here to wait for him and Claire to get divorced so I could immediately take his place? I was in no mood for his games. I shot him a sidelong glance. “You’re pathetic.” Just as I said it, Leo, who had been glaring at me with pure hatred, charged forward like a little cannonball. “You’re the bad guy! It’s all your fault! You’re trying to steal my mommy!” he screamed. “You don’t want me to have a family! You should just die!” He was small, but he was solid, and the impact was surprisingly strong. I stumbled backward down the three steps, my body lurching toward the busy street. For a split second, I saw the blur of oncoming traffic. Then, a slender, elegant figure rushed in from the side, grabbing my arm and yanking me back onto the safety of the sidewalk. “I leave you alone for two minutes to park the car, and you’re already getting bullied?”

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1 My café, The Midnight Quill, opens only from 1 to 3 a.m. We’re known for the Oblivion Latte. Tonight, the bell chimed and in walked my husband, Ralph. His eyes were bloodshot. He didn’t recognize me behind the mask. “I heard you can make a wish here,” he said hoarsely. He stepped closer. “I want to trade my lifetime of luck.” My heart skipped. Just yesterday, I’d told him my luck had run out this year. Had he really listened? A flicker of warmth rose, but his next words froze it. “In exchange, I want Daisy blessed with good fortune, always.” My blood ran cold. My name isn’t Daisy. It’s Mary. “Are you sure?” I whispered. “The name is Daisy?” “Positive,” he replied. I slid the ledger and quill toward him, then turned stiffly to make the coffee. “Write your name. In return, you’ll face lifelong misfortune.” He wrote quickly, a complex look in his eyes, and left without a word. After he was gone, I opened the ledger. The name written wasn’t his. It was mine. Mary. He wasn’t sacrificing his own luck. He was sacrificing mine. … It was ten past three when I finally left the café, hurrying home as I always did. But the name Daisy echoed in my mind, a persistent, chilling whisper. I had to fix this. Soon. I let myself into the house. The foyer was pitch black. I was used to the darkness, my fingers finding the hallway light switch by instinct. But as the warm, yellow light flooded the space, I froze. My husband, Ralph, was sitting on the living room sofa—a rare sight. Since our whirlwind romance had led to this convenient marriage of our two powerful families, he was almost always “busy at the office,” spending most of his nights there. He looked up, his gaze sharp. “You’re back. Where have you been so late?” I could hear the anger simmering beneath his calm tone. “Out,” I said, heading for the kitchen to get a glass of water. “It’s not safe for you to be out alone this late.” His voice softened unexpectedly. A traitorous warmth bloomed in my chest, only to be instantly frozen over by the memory of his wish. When I didn’t respond, a strange look crossed his face. “Mary,” he said, his voice much quieter now. “I’m sorry. My tone was out of line.” I watched him silently, waiting. I knew what was coming next. Sure enough, after a brief pause, he continued. “I’ve cleared my schedule for the next couple of days. I have to pick up my cousin from the airport tomorrow.” “She’s planning on staying for a while. It’s her first time back in the country in years, and she won’t know her way around. She might need you, her cousin-in-law, to help her get settled.” I turned my back to him, refusing to let him see the bitter disappointment in my eyes. He went on, listing details, big and small, of her arrival. After a long moment, I took a deep breath. “What’s your cousin’s name?” I asked, my voice eerily calm. Ralph seemed surprised by the question. “Her name is Daisy.” Thirty minutes ago, Ralph had traded my luck. He had used my name to mortgage my future. And now, he had canceled important meetings just to ask me to take care of her. The irony was suffocating. I ignored him and walked straight to our bedroom, shutting the door behind me. In the darkness, I slid down the wall, a silent, crushing grief washing over me. The bedroom was swallowed by a dead silence. I stared at the blurry outline of the ceiling, my body heavy with an exhaustion that went deeper than sleep. Through the not-quite-soundproof door, I heard his voice, deliberately lowered, drifting in from the living room. “Yes, I went to that place they talk about.” A pause. The person on the other end was likely expressing their shock. “Mary is my wife,” he said, and the sound of my name from his lips no longer brought me joy, only a bone-deep chill. “Of course I’ll take care of her. I’m responsible for her.” Then, his tone shifted, softening with a pity that was never meant for me. “But Daisy… she’s been having such a rough time lately. Her company is in trouble, investors are pulling out, her partner betrayed her. Even her car got hit for no reason.” “She’s not hurt, but she’s badly shaken.” “She’s never had to deal with anything like this in her entire life. It breaks my heart just hearing her talk about it.” His voice was thick with a tenderness I hadn’t heard in years. “She needs good luck. She needs things to go her way. Giving her Mary’s luck… it’s worth it.” And what about me? The person on the phone must have asked the same question, because Ralph’s next reply was laced with impatience. “Mary? Who cares if her luck is bad? It’s already been terrible lately. Another string of bad luck won’t make a difference. I’m her husband. I’ll make sure she doesn’t starve or freeze. I’ll take care of her.” With every word, the pain in my chest sharpened. My eyes burned, but no tears would come. I lay awake all night, his casual, dismissive voice echoing in my head. “Her bad luck won’t make a difference.” The first hint of dawn was breaking when I was jolted awake by a cheerful voice outside my door. “Ralph! Surprise! I changed my flight to an earlier one just to surprise you!” The bedroom door swung open, and she saw me. A brilliant smile lit up her face. “You must be Mary!” Daisy extended a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. Ralph talks about you all the time. I hope I’m not intruding.” I subtly shifted my body away, avoiding her hand. Ralph’s brow furrowed. “Mary, she’s your family now. Don’t you even know basic manners?” “Sorry,” I replied coolly. “My hand hurts today. I don’t feel like shaking it.” My response left him speechless, his eyes flashing with reprimand. “Get dressed. We’re taking Daisy to the amusement park downtown today.” He didn’t ask if I wanted to go. It was an order. “Daisy loves crowds. It’ll be a good way for her to relax.” A wave of absurdity washed over me. I clenched my fists. “I’m not going. I have other things to do.” I remembered my mother had left me a quill, identical to the one in the shop, but this one was special. It was for making corrections. “Besides, amusement parks and I…” I didn’t get to finish explaining my deep-seated trauma with amusement parks. He cut me off harshly. “Mary, stop throwing a tantrum. It’s just one trip to the amusement park for Daisy’s sake. What’s the big deal?” My gaze turned to ice. “This is the last time.” Ralph stared at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I didn’t explain. I changed my clothes and got into the car with them. The atmosphere inside the car was thick with unspoken tension. I leaned against the window, determined to remain silent. But Daisy was a natural chatterbox, filling the space with stories of her time abroad. Eventually, she turned the conversation to Ralph. “Doesn’t Ralph drive you crazy sometimes, Mary? He’s like my dad, always nagging me.” She sighed dramatically. “I have to report everything I do to him, every single detail. Doesn’t he have his own work to do?” Oh, he was busy. He was definitely busy. So busy he never came home. So busy that for my mother’s funeral, he only sent his assistant with a check. To me, he was a silent, unmovable iceberg, stingy with even the slightest warmth. But for Daisy, he was a protective harbor. The difference between being cared for and being ignored was devastatingly clear. As we pulled into the amusement park, the faint sound of cheerful music reached us. Brightly colored balloons drifted by, and the smell of cotton candy filled the air. Every sight, every sound, was a painful reminder of a past I tried to forget. Daisy’s excited voice seemed to reach me through a thick pane of glass. “Mary! Let’s go on that one!” She was pointing at the massive roller coaster at the center of the park. “Ralph never used to let me ride it. Will you come with me, please?” Coasters. Cars. Tracks. My mother had died in a car crash. But looking at Daisy’s sparkling, innocent eyes, the word “no” died on my lips. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know. She grabbed my hand and practically skipped to the ride, pulling me along. As the safety bar clicked down, she chattered excitedly beside me. The coaster began its slow, clanking ascent to the highest peak. The feeling of weightlessness, the screams from the riders in front and behind us—it was an assault on my nerves. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart feeling like it was sinking into a dark ocean. My limbs grew stiff. Just as the train plunged into a high-speed loop, it happened. My bad luck struck. The roller coaster stopped. Not a gentle halt, but a violent, screeching jolt that left us dangling upside down, high above the ground. Panic erupted. The screams of excitement turned into terrified sobs. Daisy’s happy shrieks became whimpers of fear. “Mary, I’m scared! What’s happening? Are we going to fall?” I couldn’t answer her. The sudden stop had slammed my head and arm against the metal railing beside me. A searing, white-hot pain shot through me. It was agony to even move. After fifteen minutes of chaos, rescue workers finally got us down. The pain in my arm had faded to a dull, throbbing numbness. The blood on my forehead had dried, matting my hair. We were taken to the hospital. The emergency room was stark white, the air sharp with the smell of antiseptic. Doctors and nurses surrounded me, tending to my wounds. Daisy’s luck was almost frightening. Other than being terrified, she was completely unscathed. Her legs were so weak she could barely stand, so she just sat in a chair, waiting for me. Suddenly, the ER doors burst open. Ralph rushed in, breathless and disheveled, his suit jacket unbuttoned. His eyes immediately found Daisy. “Daisy! Are you okay? You must have been so scared! Are you hurt anywhere?” “Ralph,” she sobbed, the tears finally coming. The relief and terror of her near-death experience washed over her. “I was so scared… I thought I was never going to see you again.” He pulled her into a fierce hug, his hand gently stroking her back. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. It’s all over.” The sight of his tender care was a knife in my heart. I looked away, staring up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Only then did Ralph’s gaze shift to me. But there was no concern in his eyes. Only blame. “Mary! What is wrong with you?” His anger was a palpable force. “Is this how you look after her? Didn’t you know she has a heart condition? That she can’t handle dangerous rides?” Daisy tugged weakly at his sleeve. “Ralph, it was me…” “Don’t defend her,” he snapped. “Let’s go. If your cousin-in-law won’t take you to have fun, I will.” And with that, he led Daisy out of the room. He never gave me a chance to explain. Through the partially open door, I heard his voice, cold as ice. “Stay away from her from now on. Her bad luck is contagious. You’ll catch it if you’re around her.” A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. The one responsible for all my bad luck… was you, wasn’t it? I decided against waiting for any more treatment. I called a cab and went straight to my family’s old estate. I had to get that quill. I had to fix his mistake.

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