My brother and I were in a car accident together. My heart was ruptured, and I needed immediate surgery. But my mother, the hospital’s Chief of Staff, ordered every available surgeon to my brother’s room. He had a few scratches. I was bleeding out. I begged her to save me. She didn’t even look at me. “Stop trying to be the center of attention, Ethan! Do you realize your brother almost broke a bone?” In the end, I died in a corner of the ER, unnoticed and alone. But when she finally found out I was gone, the mother who hated me the most lost her mind. 1 In the final three minutes of my life, my spirit drifted to my mother’s side. She was sitting by my brother’s bedside, hands clasped in prayer, her face a mask of pure worry. “Caleb, baby, please don’t scare Mom. Wake up, okay?” My father paced the room, his face red with rage. “If that useless animal Ethan had just protected him, Caleb wouldn’t be hurt! I’m going to beat him within an inch of his life when I see him!” I stood there, invisible, a bitter taste rising in my throat. Dad, you don’t need to beat me anymore. I’m already dead. I died from your indifference. A team of doctors circled Caleb’s bed. Once they confirmed he only had minor bruising and no fractures, an older physician finally dared to bring me up. “Dr. Sterling,” he asked my mother cautiously, “Should we check on Ethan? His injuries looked… severe.” The concern on my mother’s face instantly hardened into disgust. “What is he acting for now? Is he playing dead? Does he not realize what he did to his brother?” I stared at her. My heart, which had already stopped beating, felt a phantom pang of agony. I am your son too. Did you really never care about me at all? Suddenly, Mom pulled out her phone and dialed my number. A nurse, standing over my cooling body in the ER, picked up. I didn’t hear the concern I had foolishly hoped for. I heard the same old insults. “Ethan, when the hell are you going to get your ass down here and apologize to your brother?” My heart finally went cold. I had no expectations left. When the paramedics wheeled me in, I had grabbed her scrubs, begging her to save me. She just brushed me off. “Pick a better time to be jealous, Ethan. Your brother almost broke a bone!” Then she walked away, taking the entire trauma team with her to treat Caleb’s scrapes. The nurse couldn’t take it anymore. “Dr. Sterling, Ethan… he’s really gone. He’s crashing.” My mother laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “How much did that little sociopath pay you to say that? I didn’t know he had it in him.” Just then, Caleb—who had been pretending to be unconscious—fluttered his eyes open. He put on a weak, trembling voice. “Mom? Dad? Is Ethan okay?” Mom looked at Caleb, her precious angel, and her expression softened before turning back to the phone with renewed venom. “Ethan, why can’t you be like your brother? He’s hurt because of you, and he’s still asking about you. If you aren’t here in three minutes to apologize, don’t bother coming home!” She hung up, her chest heaving with anger. My dad scoffed. “Why even call him? hasn’t he hurt Caleb enough?” Caleb hid a smirk, lowering his head to look guilty. “Mom, Dad, don’t be mad. Ethan is just still upset about me taking his spot at Harvard. It’s my fault.” I wanted to laugh. Even after I was dead, Caleb was still driving a wedge between us. But my parents would never see it. In their eyes, Caleb was the golden child. They would never suspect that the accident happened because their precious son pushed the steering wheel into oncoming traffic. 2 Predictably, Mom’s face darkened. “Sending a selfish brat like him to Harvard would be a waste. God knows what he’d learn over there.” Caleb sighed. “Don’t be mad at him, Mom. He must have his reasons.” Mom’s eyes went soft. “You’re just too kind, Caleb. That’s why he bullies you.” Caleb was a master at this. He knew exactly what to say to make them hate me. I knew that even if I stood before them and listed every evil thing he’d ever done, they would just slap me and call me a liar. Just then, my sister, Sarah, burst into the room. She had flown in from out of state the second she heard the news. Like Mom and Dad, she only had eyes for Caleb. After fussing over him and confirming he was fine, she glared at the empty space where she assumed I should be. “I told you Ethan is bad luck. Ever since Caleb was born, Ethan has been trying to ruin him.” Caleb grabbed her hand. “Don’t be mad, sis. Even if Ethan steered the car into traffic, I’m sure he didn’t mean to.” The room exploded. Dad slammed the table. “What? He steered into traffic?” Mom gritted her teeth. “That animal. I am done with him.” Sarah looked like she wanted to tear me apart with her bare hands. Caleb’s heart rate monitor spiked slightly—he was afraid he’d overplayed his hand. “Mom, Dad, Sarah, please don’t be mad at him. Maybe I remembered it wrong. He’s my brother; he wouldn’t do that.” Sarah poked his forehead tenderly. “You are too innocent for this world. You don’t know how dark people’s hearts can be.” “I must have saved a country in my past life to have a son like you,” Mom said, stroking his hair. “We’re done with that bad seed. Let’s just focus on getting you better.” The golden sunset filtered through the blinds, illuminating the happy family of four. I watched them, an overwhelming bitterness rising in my spirit. I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t family. I was a stray dog they kicked when they were bored. I wanted to leave, but my soul was tethered to my mother. I couldn’t speak. I could only watch as they continued to humiliate my memory. 3 A few days later, Caleb was discharged. The whole family treated him like he was made of glass. Mom packed his bag. Dad pulled the car right up to the entrance. Sarah put his shoes on for him. On the ride home, Mom complained, “Ethan really is garbage. His brother gets discharged, and he doesn’t even show up? Wait until we get home.” Dad glanced at her. “I told you. Keeping him around is a liability. Something bad was bound to happen.” “Wait until we get home.” Those words triggered a flood of memories. Mom always favored Caleb. When Caleb was born, I accidentally knocked over a glass of water, causing Mom to slip. She went into labor early. Caleb spent weeks in the NICU. Dad slapped me so hard he perforated my eardrum. “You jinx! You almost killed your brother before he was even born!” Mom lay in the hospital bed, looking at me with pure disappointment. In elementary school, Caleb and I fought over a toy car. It was a cheap toy Dad had bought as an afterthought when getting Caleb a limited-edition set. But it was my treasure. Caleb had boxes of toys, but he wanted mine. He grabbed it, then screamed and burst into fake tears. Mom rushed in, hugging him. “Ethan! Your brother suffered so much as a baby, and you’re bullying him?” “I didn’t—” “Mom, don’t be mad,” Caleb sobbed. “I shouldn’t have caused trouble.” Dad came home and whipped me with a belt. “A cold-blooded kid like you should have been left at the orphanage.” I cried and begged, but the more I cried, the harder he hit. Mom and Sarah watched from the couch, cold and indifferent. From that day on, I learned not to fight. I learned not to explain. I learned to be invisible. Until now. Until they left me to die on a cold metal table. 4 Back at the house, Caleb sprawled on the sofa. He mentioned he was hungry, and Sarah immediately ran to the kitchen. Dad pulled out the latest gaming console. “A gift for surviving, son.” Mom cleaned his room top to bottom, filling it with plants. “Fresh air will help you recover.” My ghost floated in the corner of this familiar house. It felt colder than the morgue. The doorbell rang. It was my girlfriend, Bella. “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling,” she said, stepping inside. “I heard Caleb was discharged today. I brought some supplements.” Caleb tossed the controller aside, acting shy. “Bella, you didn’t have to. I’m fully recovered.” Bella smiled at him. The icy goddess I knew transformed into a sweet girl next door for my brother. “Where’s Ethan?” she asked suddenly. If she hadn’t mentioned me, the family would have forgotten I existed. Mom’s face fell. “Don’t mention that ingrate. I scolded him, and now he’s playing runaway. Fine by me. If he likes being outside so much, he can die out there for all I care.” Bella nodded quickly. “It’s probably better. You don’t need him disturbing Caleb’s rest.” Sarah walked out with a tray of fruit. “So, Bella, when are you dumping Ethan? You need to hurry up, or someone else is going to snatch my brother up.” Bella looked down, blushing. “I was actually planning to tell Caleb today.” A wave of acid washed over me. I laughed bitterly, turning away. I was used to betrayal. After dinner, Mom seemed restless. She went to her bedroom and started scrolling through her phone. I drifted closer. She was looking for my contact. She called me. Again and again. No answer. Finally, she smashed her phone on the bed. “Ignoring my calls now? You think anyone actually cares about you?” I wanted to scream: I’m dead, Mom! Dead people don’t answer phones! She snatched up the landline and called the hospital nurse again. “What kind of game is Ethan playing? Tell him if he doesn’t get his ass home and apologize, he’s cut off!” There was a silence on the other end. “Dr. Sterling… Ethan died a week ago. His heart ruptured in the accident. You… you called all the surgeons to Caleb’s room. There was no one left to operate on him.”

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After getting hospitalized from a car accident, I scrolled upon a forum post. [I just got a government job. How do I make my girlfriend initiate a breakup?] The comments section filled up quickly. [Simple. Use the ‘hot violence’ method!] [Text her hundreds of times a day. If she misses one, bomb her phone with calls.] [Pick fights over nothing. Question if she still loves you.] [No normal person can handle that. She’ll break up with you for sure.] I shook my head. Another guy trying to dump his partner the moment he gets a taste of success. Thank god my boyfriend wasn’t like that. But then, the Original Poster (OP) liked a comment and replied: [Great idea! She works three jobs a day to support me. She’s doing food delivery right now.] [She definitely won’t have time to reply to me!] I looked at the bloodstained delivery box beside my hospital bed. The smile froze on my lips. 1 It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Although my boyfriend, Lucas, just got a government job, and although I work three jobs… We were planning to get married. Just yesterday, he was discussing meeting my parents. Thinking of this, a sweetness filled my heart. Five years of dating were finally bearing fruit. Our future looked bright. I opened WeChat, wanting to complain to Lucas about the post. But I saw his status: Typing… The next second, a barrage of messages from Lucas flooded in: [Are you there? I miss you so much.] [Babe, why aren’t you replying? Don’t you know I worry?] [Where did you go? Reply in three seconds or I’m getting mad.] [Three, two, one. I’m calling!] Watching the notifications pop up one after another, I felt dazed. It was dinner time, the busiest hour for food delivery. Lucas knew that. If I hadn’t been in a car accident, there was no way I’d be on my phone. Was the OP really him? My heart went cold. Soon, Lucas called. I pressed answer with trembling fingers. His voice was as gentle as always: “Babe, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Hearing this, I let out a breath. Maybe he was just worried? But suspicion lingered. I tested him: “Nothing, just busy delivering food.” “You just started your job, there are expenses. I have to earn more.” Usually, Lucas would be heartbroken hearing this. He’d promise to give me a good life once he succeeded. But this time, Lucas acted completely out of character: “Busy? How busy can you be? No time to reply to a text?” “I think you just don’t love me anymore. You’re making excuses.” “If you don’t have feelings for me, just say it. Don’t play games!” My heart turned to ice. I hung up directly. 2 Lucas kept bombing my phone. But I didn’t reply to a single message. Five years of feelings. My mind was chaotic. I couldn’t believe he would do this. I opened the post again. A minute ago, the OP updated: [Bro, your idea worked like a charm.] [My girlfriend couldn’t handle it. She stopped replying.] [Once I successfully break up and get with the rich girl at work, I’ll send you wedding candy~] Someone in the comments couldn’t stand it. They told him to cherish what he had. Why betray a girl working three jobs for him? But the OP dismissed it with contemptuous insults: [She’s ugly, tacky, and uneducated. She doesn’t deserve me.] [If I wasn’t broke studying for the exam and needing a maid, I wouldn’t be with her. It’s embarrassing to even talk about!] [She’s in her twenties but looks forty. People think she’s my mom!] The OP’s IP address matched Lucas’s exactly. That settled it. It was him. Seeing those words, I trembled with rage. Once upon a time, I was a young girl who never had to lift a finger. But because he said he wanted to venture out, I dropped out of school and followed him to a strange city. Later, he said he wanted a stable government job to give me a good life. I believed him. I supported him with everything I had. I worked days, delivered food at night, and wrote novels in my spare time. Besides three jobs, I forced myself to learn to cook. Just to take care of his every need so he could study in peace. Even when I got hit by a car, I didn’t care about my injuries. I only thought the compensation money would support him for a long time. And him? In his eyes, I was just an ugly, tacky maid. The first thing he did after succeeding was force me to break up. How ironic. But Lucas didn’t know: I hold grudges. As much as I loved him, I now hated him just as much! He squeezed every drop of value from me, and now he wants to dump me for someone better? Keep dreaming! I thought it over and decided to counterattack. Since he loves “hot violence” so much, I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine! 3 When Lucas sent another message, I replied instantly. [Babe, I was wrong before. I shouldn’t have ignored you because I was busy.] [To show my love, I quit all three jobs.] [From now on, I’ll sit at home all day and reply to your messages. How about that? Touched?] This time, it was Lucas who broke down. After a few minutes of stunned silence, he called frantically: “Sophie! What do you mean?” “You quit your jobs? What about me? I just started work, I have expenses!” “Besides, didn’t you agree to visit my parents tomorrow?” “My mom wants a gold bracelet, my dad wants high-end tea. How are you going to pay for them?” I put down the phone and sneered. So “meeting the parents” was just a shakedown. Using me as an ATM. Come to think of it, I’ve managed Lucas’s household for years, sending gifts every holiday. I really gave them too much face. Their demands were endless. But I didn’t show my anger. instead, I acted troubled: “I’m sorry, babe. But if I don’t quit, I won’t have time to chat with you.” “I can’t send you money anymore. You’ll have to support me now~” Hearing this, Lucas was furious but couldn’t refute me. He hung up hurriedly and ran back to the forum for help. [Brothers, help! My girlfriend quit her job directly, said she’ll keep me company every day.] [Now I can’t find an excuse to break up. What do I do?] [The key is she has no money now. I have to support her. It’s a huge headache!] It was late at night. His strategist was asleep. So no reply came. I pressed my advantage, harassing him with messages, asking if he still loved me, why he wasn’t replying. Lucas had no choice. He couldn’t break character, so he was forced to chat. He thought he could just brush me off for a while and I’d sleep. But he didn’t know I was in the hospital, bored out of my mind, with nothing but time. And so, I pestered him all night. If he didn’t reply in three seconds, I called. Lucas was mentally exhausted. Worse, he had to work the next day. I used that time to sleep beautifully. Resting up for his next move. In the afternoon, the strategist finally replied, sounding exasperated: [Bro, you’re weak. Don’t you know how to adapt?] [Everyone has weaknesses. Everyone has things they can’t do. Can’t you nitpick?] [Make her delete every guy from her contacts immediately. Promise no contact with any men. See if she’s scared!] [I know these women. They’re all loose. She can’t do it.] 4 Reading that terrible advice, I clenched my fist. I wanted to punch through the screen. “Women are all loose”? Like he knows women. Isn’t it men who change hearts first and find excuses to force breakups? But it didn’t matter. I had plenty of energy and means. When Lucas asked me to delete all male contacts, I pretended to be reluctant. “Babe, you’re the only one in my heart. You have to believe me.” “But there are some important people in my contacts. It’s inconvenient.” Thinking he found my weak spot, Lucas pressed on: “What do you mean? Am I not the most important person?” “You won’t delete them now? Planning to cheat later?” “I don’t care. If you don’t delete them, you have a guilty conscience. I get jealous when you contact other men!” I sneered internally and set the trap. “No, you misunderstood. But it’s hard to avoid communication sometimes.” “Who can completely avoid contact with the opposite sex? Can you?” To provoke me, Lucas said he could do it without hesitation. I smiled. Dropping the act, I pulled out my phone. I deleted every male contact right in front of him. “Babe, you’re right. Since you can do it, I can’t back down.” “Look, I deleted them all. Now it’s your turn~” I stared pointedly at Lucas’s phone. Lucas visibly panicked. He didn’t expect me to actually do it. Honestly, since dating him in college, I had few friends left. Lucas was hostile to anyone close to me. Even talking to a delivery guy was “flirting” to him. To avoid angering him, I kept my distance from men. Now, I truly had no one I couldn’t let go of. But Lucas was different. His list included the rich female colleague he wanted to pursue. How could he bear to delete her? Seeing me staring, Lucas started making excuses: “Can you stop being unreasonable? Of course I could delete a few friends.” “But our jobs are different.” “I’m a civil servant. Some colleagues are for life. Are you trying to ruin me?” “I’m not like you, uneducated and unable to find a good job.” At this point, he was still trying to gaslight me. Hilarious. My grades were as good as his back then. If not for his sweet talk, would I have dropped out? But I didn’t explode. Instead, I acted understanding. “Okay babe, I understand your difficulty.” “But you have to promise not to interact with female colleagues. I did it, surely you can too?” Hearing he didn’t have to delete contacts, Lucas sighed in relief. He casually promised he could do it. But he was surely thinking: I can do whatever I want, you can’t see me. So, I decided to give him a [Surprise].

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My husband is a world-renowned scientist. In an interview, when asked about relationships, he said: “I don’t consider myself a qualified partner.” “No matter what, love will never be my priority.” “I only wish to use my limited time to pursue the infinite truths of science.” After the program aired, he was universally praised for his fearless dedication to science. I quietly put away my medical report. I have cancer. Terminal. While he travels to London to accept an award, these will be my last days in this world. 1 The last moment of consciousness was the blinding light of the operating lamp. Then, I floated out of my body and saw the whole operating room. I saw the heart monitor next to the bed flatline. That’s when I realized. I think I’m dead. 2 I don’t know why, but I became a spirit, able to drift anywhere. This morning, I was fine. I even talked to Julian. He had a conference abroad and a flight at noon. So, I got up at 7 AM to make him breakfast. Julian looks like he doesn’t care about anything, but he’s a picky eater. His toast has to be slightly burnt, his milk heated just so. Our son, Leo, always said, “Mom, you’ve spoiled Dad’s taste buds.” I never denied it. After taking care of him meticulously for almost thirty years, even the most troublesome tasks became habit. 3 “Julian, I heard there’s a cold front hitting the UK. The temperature’s going to drop.” “I packed an extra down vest for you.” “Gum is in the left pocket of your backpack. Your ears always pop on flights; chewing it helps.” “Don’t stay up too late. Your heart has been bothering you lately, right? Sleep early…” “It’s a Polar Continental air mass.” He interrupted me abruptly. I looked up dully and met his clear, indifferent eyes. Time has been kind to Julian. His brow is still sharp, and even nearing middle age, the years haven’t left a mark. That coldness he’s carried since his youth can still pierce straight to my heart. He was correcting my first sentence. It wasn’t just a “cold front”; it was a “Polar Continental air mass.” I just wanted to care for him. I lowered my eyes. I straightened his tie. “Got it.” “Safe travels, Julian.” He walked past me sideways. He thought I had nothing to do this afternoon. But I did. He was going across the Atlantic for a scientific conference. I had a meeting too. My pre-op meeting. The doctor said the success rate of the surgery was only twenty percent. 4 When the doctor told me the stomach cancer wasn’t found in time and had spread, I sat in the hospital hallway all afternoon. The TV mounted in the corner was replaying an interview Julian did a few days ago. The man with the cold eyes didn’t want to waste time on anything but research. Even when asked about his wife, he brushed it off. “I’m dense when it comes to emotions.” “I don’t understand romance. A wife… to me, is more of a responsibility.” “Celebrate anniversaries? That’s just formalism. I’d rather run a few more experiments than waste time preparing for that.” It sounded exactly like Julian. Forget anniversaries; he didn’t even celebrate birthdays. When we were young, I used to pester him about it, hoping one day he’d show up with a bouquet of red roses. But I never got those roses. A brain that could memorize endless data refused to remember the four digits of my birthday. Eventually, I’d just sit alone at the table with a bowl of noodles and call it a celebration. Julian is a stone; stones don’t bloom. It took me over twenty years to accept that. In recent years, I started to feel like maybe I was the problem. Call it exhaustion, call it giving up. The funny thing is, he is him, and I am me. He laid this truth out decades ago, but I only understand it now. I folded the diagnosis report into a small square, put it in my pocket, and only called my son. 5 Leo is close to me. Julian doesn’t like kids, and his only son has zero aptitude for science. After listening to my emotionless narration, Leo’s voice choked up. “Mom…” “Did you tell Dad…” “I didn’t.” I looked down at the granite floor. “I don’t want to tell him.” He is him, I am me. Besides, what would he do if he knew? Would he drop his obsessive research to take care of me? “Leo.” “Mom doesn’t know how long she has left.” “If I die one day, don’t tell your father.” Why bring something Julian doesn’t care about to his attention just to annoy him? “Okay.” Leo replied on the other end. “Mom, honestly, Dad doesn’t deserve you.” “He really doesn’t deserve someone as good as you.” … 6 My spirit floated in the hospital hallway. I saw the doctor walk out of the operating room, shaking his head regretfully. Leo slumped over my hospital bed, crying. He had brought me to the hospital at noon and waited outside the OR until nightfall. But Mom wasn’t strong enough; I couldn’t open my eyes. He cried so heartbreakingly. I was frantic beside him, but he couldn’t see me. I wanted to hug him, tell him not to cry like when he was little. Leo has worked hard. Although he didn’t become a scientist like his father hoped, his paintings are loved by many. He has a solo exhibition in Italy later this year. I sat beside him, looking up at the stars, singing to him like I used to. He couldn’t hear me, but I felt like this way, he’d know Mom was with him. … Suddenly, a gust of wind carried me far away. The senses of a spirit are strange. I could sense what was happening in the hospital after my death, yet I also arrived at Julian’s conference venue. His conference was supposed to last seven days. A man in a suit easily becomes the center of attention. Young, handsome, with a resume that’s practically unmatched. Julian has always been the center of attention, since he was a kid. In college, girls flocked to him. Back then, some girls were bold enough to pursue him right to his dorm. Every time, he looked at them with that distant gaze. Wearing a plain white shirt, book tucked under his arm, he’d look down with restraint and detachment: “Sorry, I don’t like you.” Merciless. The popularity many men would kill for was just a nuisance to him. He was already winning national awards left and right. Professors constantly mentioned his name. I was one of the students looking up at him from the fringe. I only dared to catch a glimpse of his shirt as he left the cafeteria. Julian definitely didn’t know I had a crush on him for three or four years before we were set up on a blind date. And I never dreamed that three years after graduation, my family would arrange a date with him. “I won’t have someone I like.” That was the first thing Julian said to me. “If I have to say I like something, I like experiments, calculations—things that have nothing to do with people.” He frowned slightly, but even that couldn’t hide his dazzling good looks. He stated his position clearly and concisely. “We are not discussing love.” “We are merely ensuring progeny. Can you understand that?” … Actually, back then, Julian was very clear. I was the one who thought I could accept it. I was the one who wanted to be with him. I always thought we had time. I thought one day his clear gaze would settle on me. I thought he— Would fall in love with me. Call it hubris, pinning my day-and-night devotion on the hope that feelings would grow over time. My spirit drifted to his side. I watched him converse seriously with another scholar. Tall, indifferent, elegant. “Was I stupid?” I put my hands in my pockets and looked at him. “They say smart people look at normal people the way normal people look at idiots.” On the other side, my body was loaded into a hearse. The academic conference was buzzing with voices. “Julian, did you think I was stupid?

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1 I won ten million dollars in the lottery. The next thing I knew, my best friend was sobbing, telling me she’d been reborn. “Oh, thank God, Jenna! We have to use this money to stockpile supplies. In one month, the zombie apocalypse is going to hit.” “Last time, we didn’t have anything, and the zombies got us. We can’t let that happen again!” My best friend, Maya, helped me build a safe house in a desolate area far from the city. She even coordinated a fleet of trucks to deliver tons of rice, flour, and oil. The ten million was gone in a flash, but we had enough supplies to last us for decades. I squeezed her hand, overwhelmed with gratitude. But then, she burst out laughing. “Hahaha! I was just kidding! Rebirth? Zombies? Do you think this is some kind of novel?” “I can’t believe you actually fell for it. You are so, so stupid.” I swallowed the words I was about to say, the ones that would have begged her to stay. Her rebirth might have been a lie, but mine was real. And the zombie apocalypse was really coming. … Maya was still laughing, slapping her thighs and doubling over. Seeing me standing there in stunned silence, she patted my shoulder condescendingly. “Hey, it’s just ten million dollars. Who asked you to be so gullible? You can’t even take a joke.” She didn’t seem to grasp how cruel her “joke” was. If I hadn’t been reborn, if this was my first time through… I would have spent my entire lottery winnings on a useless villa in the middle of nowhere, filled with food that would spoil within weeks. I think the shock might have killed me on the spot. “So it’s a little isolated, but it’s quiet, right? And you love quiet,” she said, then theatrically covered her mouth. “Oh my God, Jenna, I just remembered! You’ve always wanted to get residency in Southwood, but this property is technically in Northgate…” “So I guess you’ll have to settle for Northgate residency. But hey, it’s close enough to Southwood, right? You’re not going to be petty and get mad at me over that, are you?” She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. Northgate was a stagnant, underdeveloped district, while Southwood was the city’s crown jewel, with the best schools and hospitals. I’d always dreamed of settling there, for my aging parents and for the family I hoped to have one day. In my past life, I never could afford a place in Southwood, not even when the apocalypse hit. I ended up renting with Maya the whole time. “No,” I said. Residency wouldn’t matter much after the world ended. I was just having a hard time believing it. In my previous life, I hadn’t won the lottery. When the apocalypse came, we had no food, and I never developed any powers. Life for two ordinary women was brutal. But we never gave up on each other. We stuck together, searching for supplies, looking for a safe zone. Then we ran into a group of heavily armed men. I remember Maya crying, just like she had today. “You have to hide,” she had told me. “Don’t come out, no matter what. It’s the apocalypse now. Women without powers are just toys for men.” “I’ll lead them away. If I survive, I’ll come back for you.” I never saw her again. I assumed she had died for me. I carried that debt with me, so the moment I was reborn, I rushed to the lottery vendor. I bought a ticket with the winning numbers I’d overheard in my past life, and the first person I told was her. I remember the stiff way she’d said, “Congratulations.” At the time, I thought she was just stunned with happiness. “Maya, why would you lie to me?” I had to ask. With ten million dollars, I would have shared everything with her. Why go to such lengths? She rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with acid. “We were both broke. Why should you get to be rich all of a sudden? It’s not fair.” So it was jealousy. “Come on, why are you still dwelling on it? If you think you can’t eat all this food by yourself,” she offered, “I guess I could stay here with you for a while. But…” She snickered, clearly enjoying my misfortune. “Those bags of rice and flour will probably be crawling with bugs in three days.” “Get out,” I said, my voice cold. Maya blinked. “What did you say?” “I said, get the hell out. Is that clear enough?” Her face flushed with anger. “Jenna, I’m your best friend! How can you talk to me like that?” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “A best friend who would trick me into wasting ten million dollars? Don’t flatter yourself. You were just jealous that I had money.” A flicker of guilt crossed her eyes, but she quickly suppressed it. “It was a joke! It’s your own fault for being stupid enough to believe it!” “Fine. If you don’t want my company, you can stay here all by yourself,” she sneered. “This place is in the middle of nowhere. There aren’t even any taxis. Let’s see how you get back to the city. Don’t come crying to me, begging for a ride.” As her car sped away, kicking up a cloud of dust, a small smile touched my lips. The apocalypse hits in three days. We’ll see who’s begging who. My safe house was built like a fortress. Every detail had been meticulously planned by Maya and me. The perimeter wall was thirty feet high, topped with an electric fence and razor wire to keep out mutated zombies. We had generators, rice, flour, oil, and a whole menagerie of livestock: chickens, ducks, geese, cows, sheep, pigs, and even a fish pond. From air conditioners and heaters to Wi-Fi and power banks, we hadn’t missed a thing. I had enough supplies to throw a hot pot party on a whim. Thinking back, the more detailed and careful Maya had been in the planning, the more she must have relished the thought of the big reveal, the moment she could laugh at how utterly foolish I had been. The first thing I did was call my parents and tell them to get on the next flight from their hometown. Then, I called my boyfriend of two years, Ken. He’d always been good to me. In my past life, he was infected and turned while trying to get back to me. A tragic hero. “Ken—” I barely got his name out before his angry voice exploded from the other end. “Ten million dollars, Jenna! How could you be so stupid? You actually fell for Maya’s joke and blew it all?” “I wouldn’t have even known if she hadn’t come and told me! Do you have any idea what people are saying? The whole story is all over social media!” “Everyone’s calling me the boyfriend of a rich idiot who doesn’t know what to do with her money. You’ve completely humiliated me.” “Why didn’t you tell me you won? Why are you so stupid? So pathetic?” He had never spoken to me like that before. It was true what they say—money really does reveal a person’s true character. Ten million dollars was a life-changing amount of money, a fantasy for ordinary people like us. I wanted to tell him about the apocalypse, to calm him down, but before I could get a word in, he launched into another tirade. “I’ve always thought you were an idiot! We’re supposed to be in love, and you have the nerve to ask for a two hundred thousand dollar bride price!” “I’m not some trust fund kid! My mom is a beautiful woman, and she didn’t even ask my dad for that much when they got married.” I understood his implication. I wasn’t as beautiful as his mother, so I had no right to ask for so much. Two hundred thousand was customary in our culture. The money would have come back to us as part of my dowry, and my parents were even planning on matching it. I had explained all of this to him before, and he had agreed. “So what are you trying to say now?” I snapped, my own anger rising. “We’re breaking up,” Ken said coldly. “I don’t want to be known as the idiot’s boyfriend. I have never met anyone as stupid as you.” “If you had just given me that ten million, I wouldn’t have had to worry about the bride price. I could have bought a car, a house, given you a comfortable life.” “But you had to go and screw it all up. I guess you’re just not destined for a good life.” “I know your parents are in Southwood now. I’m coming to pick you up. We’ll settle this, and you can give me back the ten-thousand-and-one-dollar engagement gift.” He hung up, his disgust palpable. It hurt, I won’t lie. But his little outburst had shown me his true colors. He arrived as I was feeding the chickens in the yard. Now that we were breaking up, he didn’t even bother pretending to be nice. “Looks like you really are meant to be a poor country girl. You’ve got no luck with money. You should just go back to your village and raise chickens.” I didn’t waste my breath arguing. I’m not the type to drag things out. I met him with my parents and gave him back the engagement money. Even after he got the money, he couldn’t resist a final, snide remark to my parents. “Sir, Ma’am, if you have any money, you’d better not let Jenna handle it. If someone tells her a joke about aliens invading, she might just spend your life savings on a ‘spaceship’.” My parents looked confused. I just stared at him, my face a blank mask, and shut the door on him. “What happened with you and Ken?” my mom asked. “Everything seemed fine. Why the sudden breakup?” “And you told us to bring everything important with us,” my dad added. “What’s going on?” I was about to explain when the door burst open. Maya rushed in and threw her arms around my mom. “Mom, Dad! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Southwood?” she chirped, using the affectionate terms she always had for my parents. My mom smiled, but when she saw the look on my face—the distinct lack of my usual delight at seeing Maya—her smile faded, and she said nothing. “What’s this?” Maya snatched a gift box from my dad’s hand and ripped it open. Inside was a designer handbag. “Jenna’s been wanting this for months, but she never got around to buying it. Your mom and I saw it in the store and decided to get it for her,” my dad explained. A flash of jealousy crossed Maya’s face. “Tsk, tsk. Dad, you bought the wrong thing. Jenna’s not into this stuff anymore.” “She’s into raising chickens and ducks now. You should have bought her some feed…” Seeing the bewildered expressions on my parents’ faces, Maya burst out laughing. “Oh, you guys don’t know, do you? Jenna won ten million dollars, but she spent it all on a stupid villa in the middle of nowhere.” “And a bunch of other useless junk. Blew through the whole ten million. Can you believe how dumb she is?” My parents’ faces fell. Maya, encouraged, was about to continue, but I grabbed her arm and shoved her out the door. She was so damn annoying. She scrambled to her feet, furious. “Jenna! Your parents didn’t even kick me out! What gives you the right—” “Get out!” my mom snapped, slamming the door shut. I told my parents everything. I was nervous they wouldn’t believe me. “Dad, Mom, it’s all true. In two days, the zombie apocalypse is going to start.” My dad stood up immediately. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go buy more supplies.” My mom stroked my hair. “Silly girl, of course we believe you. We’ve saved up a little nest egg over the years. Looks like it’s going to come in handy.” After being called an idiot over and over for the past few days, having someone finally believe me brought tears to my eyes. “Dad, Mom, thank you for trusting me.” My parents had fifty thousand dollars in savings. We bought a used pickup truck, more food, and a variety of seeds. Back at the safe house, my dad got to work with the lawnmower, cutting down all the tall grass in the surrounding area to use as feed for the livestock. My mom cleared a patch of land for a vegetable garden. We had even hired someone to dig a well in the yard ahead of time. That night, as I lay in bed, I saw Maya’s latest social media post. [Day 1 with my love. Thanks for the designer bag and necklace, babe. Love you forever.] It was a picture of her hand intertwined with a man’s. I recognized the mole on his hand instantly. It was Ken’s. It stung a little, but mostly, I felt a sense of relief. What kind of decent guy moves on that fast? I was lucky to be rid of him. The next morning, my dad announced he was going out. “Supplies aren’t enough. When the world ends, people lose their humanity. We need something for self-defense.” “Your grandfather had an old friend who deals in that sort of thing. I’m going to go see him.” I knew who he was talking about. I was hoping we could get him on our side. He had a team of highly-trained bodyguards, and in the coming world, security would be everything. Unfortunately, Mr. Foster, the old friend, was not convinced. “My sources are generally more reliable than yours, and I’ve heard nothing. Not even a whisper.” I refused to give up. “Mr. Foster, what my dad and I are telling you is the absolute truth. The apocalypse will be here in six hours.” “You can bring your family to my safe house. Wait six hours. You’ll see for yourself. If I’m wrong, you’ve lost nothing but a bit of time. If I’m right… well, you know the consequences.” The Foster estate was in the heart of Southwood’s busiest district. A high concentration of people, especially powerful people, meant it would be one of the most dangerous places to be. Just as I thought I had failed, Mr. Foster’s grandson, Alex, walked in. “Why not give it a try? Grandpa, you’re always saying you miss the country air. Think of it as a six-hour vacation.” A glimmer of hope sparked within me, but it was extinguished by a snort of laughter from the doorway. Maya and Ken were standing there, bent over with mirth. “You guys are actually listening to this idiot? Hahaha.” “She blew through ten million dollars, and now she’s trying to drag you down with her to make herself feel better.” “An apocalypse? Zombies? Have you been reading too many fantasy novels?” I saw the change in Mr. Foster’s expression and my heart sank. It was over. The Fosters gave my dad three rifles, some body armor, a few grenades, and some basic supplies. When Maya saw us loading up the truck, she looked at my parents with a mixture of pity and disgust. “Mom, Dad, Jenna’s had a mental breakdown. I’ll be honest with you,” she said, her voice dripping with false concern. “The zombie apocalypse was just a joke I made up. She can’t accept that the ten million is gone, so she’s lost her mind.” “Are you really going to let her waste all your money? I heard you’ve been buying a lot of stuff.” I crossed my arms and smirked. “That’s right. My parents spent fifty grand on me. What’s it to you? Jealous again?” Maya shot me a glare, then turned on the charm, sidling up to my mom. “Mom, I’m serious. You promised you’d buy me a present when you came to Southwood. Let’s go shopping now.” “We can’t let Jenna spend all your money. She’s—” My mom pushed her away. “I’m not your mom, so don’t call me that. And it’s my money. My daughter can spend it however she wants. It’s not called wasting.” Maya’s face turned an ugly shade of green. She stomped her foot. “Not wasting? Are you old and senile?” “All that useless junk she bought will rot in ten days. And that stupid villa is in the middle of nowhere. You won’t even be able to sell it.” “I’m trying to help you, and you’re pushing me away? Fine! We’ll see what you do when the money’s gone and the food is spoiled!” “When you’re starving and homeless, don’t you dare come begging me for help!” she shrieked, then stormed off. Ken gave me a cold look. “Your family had fifty thousand dollars, and you still made me work my ass off for a bride price? You’re a heartless bitch.” “What my family does with its money is none of your damn business,” I retorted, slipping off my shoe and hurling it at his face. “Who the hell do you think you are? Shut your stupid mouth and get lost.” I thought that was the end of it with the Fosters, but just as my dad and I got back to the safe house, they pulled up behind us. Mr. Foster leaned on his cane, surveying the property with a look of mild approval. “Since my grandson trusts you, I’ll stay for six hours. Call it a vacation. The scenery is quite nice.” “When I was young, your grandfather and I used to love raising chickens and playing chess.” I didn’t know why Alex had believed me, but I was grateful. The Fosters had brought a large contingent of their security team, and their presence was a huge relief. I shot Alex a thankful look. He paused, then a faint smile touched his lips. “If the apocalypse doesn’t come, my grandfather will probably break my legs. Then you’ll be in trouble.” “Don’t you worry, Mr. Foster,” I joked. “If that happens, I’ll personally nurse you back to health until you’re jumping for joy.” “…” One hour before the apocalypse. My dad and I had just finished butchering a cow and were setting up the grill in the yard when Maya video-called me. “Jenna, look where I am.” Behind her, a sea of people swayed under flashing lights. It was ‘Oblivion,’ Southwood’s most famous nightclub. And the epicenter of the initial outbreak in my past life. “Ken proposed to me today,” she crowed. “It was even bigger and better than when he proposed to you.” “Look at all these people! They’re all congratulating us.” “And he spent a whole year’s salary on my ring! It’s way bigger than the one he gave you.” I watched her hand wave in front of the camera, but my attention was caught by a figure in the background. He was hunched over, his movements slow and jerky, not like a normal person at all. Before I could get a better look, Maya flipped the camera back to her face. “Jenna, don’t be mad at me anymore. Come be my maid of honor.” “It was just a joke. Are you really going to hold a grudge for this long? I’m asking you because I really do see you as a friend.” “You’re not mad that Ken chose me, are you? I can’t help it that you asked for such a high bride price.” “Besides, him choosing me just proves he loves me more. It’s not my fault. Why are you blaming me?” Her words were so ridiculous I had to laugh. I hung up. Thirty minutes later, a bartender from Oblivion posted a video to his social media. Amidst screams of terror, a man was pinning a small woman to the floor, tearing at her flesh with his teeth. The zombie apocalypse had begun.

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1 Two sets of divorce papers lay on the table between Jack and me. One was his. One was mine. My share was twenty percent of the assets and a villa. He would get the twins, the family estate, and everything else. My eyes scanned the page, and a calm settled over me. I signed. None of the hysteria from the weeks before. Jack’s hand slowed as he watched me, his gaze scorching. “No objections? Not even about visitation rights?” He pushed the papers back toward me. “Once this is signed, you can’t take it back.” I handed the documents to him, a faint smile playing on my lips. “I won’t need to.” Jack’s eyes narrowed, something left unsaid lingering in their depths. But it didn’t matter anymore. In a few hours, I would no longer be Mrs. Croft. I would no longer be the woman of the Croft manor. I would no longer even be the mother of two children. I would just be a body, burned beyond recognition. … After the papers were signed, for the first time in years, Jack walked me to the door. His tone was polite, distant. “Do you need a ride home?” I shook my head. He seemed taken aback, clearly unaccustomed to this newfound coldness. His gaze lingered on my hair for a moment before he tore a page from a notepad, scribbled a series of numbers, and handed it to me. “My personal number.” A confident, knowing smirk touched his lips. He was certain I would come crawling back to him. I froze for only a second before taking the piece of paper, nodding my thanks. The moment I was in my car, I flicked open a lighter and held the flame to the corner of the note, watching it curl and turn to ash. The number I’d once begged and screamed for, now handed to me as a parting gift. The irony was bitter. I’d just started the engine when my phone rang. Chloe, his tournament assistant, sounded frantic. “Evelyn, the Captain has warm-up matches for the next few days, and about his dietary regimen…” “Come to my apartment. I’ll give it to you.” A few hours later, Chloe stared at a stack of binders that nearly reached her waist, her smile strained. “Evelyn… I know you’re angry, but you’re not really… getting a divorce, are you?” Ever since I’d brought it up, everyone—Jack, his mother, his teammates on the chess circuit—they all thought it was a game. A ploy. A desperate gambit to force the world’s youngest six-time consecutive chess champion to heel. But the truth was simpler. The spell Jack Croft had cast over me was broken. “He’s allergic to shellfish and cilantro, his sinuses act up in the winter, he only wears pure cotton, and he likes his bathwater at exactly 100 degrees with a few drops of peppermint oil.” I rattled off the list of instructions without taking a breath. The forced smile on Chloe’s face had melted away, replaced by a look of genuine pain. “Evelyn, are you really…” she stammered. I didn’t answer. Instead, I pulled a small, framed document from under my pillow—the wedding vows Jack had written for me seven years ago. In front of her, I tore them to shreds. As the paper fragments drifted down like snow, my voice was a low whisper. “My father is gone. So are we.” A tear I hadn’t known I was holding finally broke free and traced a path down my cheek. Chloe stared, stunned for a moment. Then, her own eyes reddening, she rushed forward to wipe my tears away, apologizing as she did. “Evelyn… you two were childhood sweethearts… How did it come to this?” How, indeed. The most brilliant young chess prodigy of his generation had married his childhood sweetheart in a wedding fit for a storybook. He’d placed his dying mentor in a prohibitively expensive private clinic, and the following year, we were blessed with twin boys. Jack, terrified of ever shortchanging me, showered me with gifts. The napkins we used were embossed with a floral pattern he’d designed himself. When he was drunk, he would murmur my name, “Evie,” all night long. He even had my name tattooed on the palm of his hand. He had built a perfect image, earning both fame and public adoration. But in just seven short years, I, the childhood sweetheart, had become a stale crumb on his plate, while Ava, his manager with no official title, had become the very blood in his veins. Childhood sweethearts. What a joke. Once a man’s heart changes, even the daughter of the mentor who saved his life is discarded like trash. The Crofts were a dynasty of chess masters. But Jack was born with severe autism, the family outcast. It was my father who couldn’t bear to see such a talent wither away. He brought Jack into our home. From then on, there was a place for him at our table, a desk for him in our study, even a bed for him to sleep in. Mrs. Croft, his own mother, would only summon him once a year for a hollow Christmas dinner. He wasn’t a champion then. He was just a stray dog no one wanted. The day he won his first world championship, he didn’t go back to the Croft estate. He came to our house and dropped to his knees before my father. “Sir,” he’d choked out, tears streaming down his face, “I swear I will spend my life repaying you and Evie.” My father had smiled, patting his shoulder with a mentor’s pride. “This is only the beginning, Jack. Stay humble. You have a long road ahead.” Jack nodded, his eyes darting toward me. Back then, I was his sparring partner in name, but his assistant in reality. His preferences, his allergies, his pre-match diet, his training schedules—I had filled entire notebooks with the details of his life. Seeing those notebooks, he was no longer the withdrawn boy. He was a vulnerable soul, his eyes red and raw, clinging to my hand as if it were a lifeline. The teenage Jack would thank me on stage for my devotion. The Jack in his twenties took it for granted. During his fifth championship run, my father pushed Jack out of the way of a speeding car, suffering an injury that left him in a vegetative state. That same year, I became pregnant with the twins. He married me, and I became Evelyn Croft. Because of the children, even the ever-disapproving Mrs. Croft held her tongue. She did, however, hire an agent for him. Ava. That night, Jack stroked my swelling belly and swore an oath. “Ava Thorne is a top agent. She has years of tournament experience. She’s only here to lighten your load.” He kissed my forehead, his eyes full of what I thought was love. “Carrying twins is hard, Evie. I can’t bear to see you wear yourself out for me.” He wasn’t wrong. Just three months in, I was sick morning, noon, and night, wasting away to nothing. Jack, meanwhile, grew busier and busier. He was home less and less. When I asked, he was always “training.” I knew winning a seventh consecutive title was his life’s ambition, so I stopped asking. Instead, I poured my heart out to the coolly professional Ava. I brought her homemade food despite my growing belly. I sent her gifts. I begged her to take good care of Jack. And she did. She took very good care of him. The night I was in labor, hemorrhaging on the delivery table, the tabloids exploded with photos of Jack and Ava spending the night together in a hotel. My sons’ umbilical cords hadn’t even been cut. Mrs. Croft shoved a phone in my face, forcing me to give a statement to the press. My head was roaring. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. I couldn’t form a single word. Mrs. Croft dug her nails into my arm, her voice a venomous hiss in my ear. “Evelyn! If you ever want to see your sons again, you will speak. Now.” My hand trembling, I took the phone and, following her script, whispered that I trusted my husband completely. That night, my name trended for all the wrong reasons. The public branded me a possessive, delusional wife. The moment I was out of the operating room, Mrs. Croft took the twins. My marriage was a sham. My reputation was in tatters. My father was a living ghost, and my children were the last lifeline I had. When I later pleaded with Jack to let me see them, there was no guilt in his eyes, only irritation as he shoved my hand away. “With my mother, they’ll get a world-class education. What will they learn from you? How to be a parasite?” “You want to know why I cheated? Why don’t you look at the stretch marks on your stomach? Why don’t you ask yourself what you have that Ava doesn’t?” He threw a folder at my feet. “This is Ava’s tournament analysis. Maybe you should spend less time acting like a lunatic and more time learning something useful.” The contempt in his eyes cut me deeper than any knife. My mind snapped. I ran headfirst into a marble pillar in the hallway. That night, Jack knelt at my feet, his body wracked with sobs. He clutched my hand, his voice hoarse as he recounted one memory after another from our youth. He swore he’d move my father to a better clinic. He swore he’d talk to his mother about letting me see the boys. Finally, he slapped himself across the face, his eyes bloodshot. “Can we start over, Evie? Please?” For my father, and for my sons, I swallowed my grief and nodded. For the next few years, he seemed to change. He remembered anniversaries. He took me to see the children. No matter how late he trained, he came home. He even dismissed Ava and hired a new team. Just when I thought things were finally getting better, Ava walked into our home and slapped an ultrasound photo onto the table in front of me, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Sorry, Mrs. Croft. I’m pregnant.” “Jack told me your body went soft after the twins. He can only find release with me now. Only a fool like you would actually believe a man could change.” So the dismissal, the starting over… it was all a lie. I stared at the black-and-white image and let out a hollow laugh. “What do you want?” She tutted. “Jack made me get rid of the others, but this time…” She gave me a strange, twisted smile, then slammed her own body against the wall. A second later, Jack’s furious roar echoed from the doorway. “Evelyn, what did you do?!” He kicked me aside and rushed to Ava’s side. From behind him, two small voices cried out, “Mommy!” They weren’t calling for me. They were calling for Ava. My two sons scrambled past me, their small feet trampling my hand as they rushed to her side, fussing over her with worried whispers. Even then, Ava kept up the act. “Don’t blame her, Jack. It was my fault… I said the wrong thing and upset her…” Her ‘defense’ only fueled his rage. He whipped his head around, his eyes locking onto me with pure hatred. “If I’d known you were this vile, I should have let you die on that pillar years ago!” he snarled. “Ava has already sacrificed so much for you, and you still do this?” Before I could speak, my older son picked up a heavy glass ashtray and hurled it at me. “You hurt my mommy!” he shrieked. “You should die!” A warm, sticky liquid trickled down my face. “What… what did you call her?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m your mother…” My younger son spat on me. “You? You’re just a parasite! We’re going to be champions! Our mother is Ava!” The look of disdain on his childish face was a perfect copy of his grandmother’s. No wonder they were always so distant when I visited the estate. They refused to call me mom. They shrank from my touch. They were ashamed of me, just like Mrs. Croft. I stared blankly for a long moment, then burst into laughter—a wild, broken sound. Tears mixed with blood, dripping onto the floor. Jack’s brow furrowed. He took a step toward me, but a pained cry from Ava pulled him back. He shot me one last venomous glare, then scooped Ava into his arms and ran out the door, the twins trailing behind him. At that exact moment, my phone buzzed with a flood of videos. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Every night I thought he was with me, he was spending the second half with her. Listening to the sounds from those videos, my mind finally shattered. I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills. When the housekeeper called Jack to tell him I was dying, he laughed into the phone. “If she dies, she dies. One less burden for me to carry.” I didn’t die. But the attempt drew a media frenzy. The Croft name was headline news once again. As I was wheeled out of the emergency room, Mrs. Croft was waiting. She slapped me, hard, across the face. “You pathetic waste! You can’t even keep your own husband, and now you have the nerve to pull a stunt like this!” She grabbed me by the throat, her voice low and menacing, while pointing a finger toward the ICU down the hall. “Your father’s life is in my hands. Tarnish the Croft name again, and he won’t live to see tomorrow.” Just then, I saw my two sons standing in the doorway, their faces etched with disappointment. “Damn, the parasite didn’t die.” “If she had, Mommy Ava could have finally moved in.” In that instant, I finally understood what it meant to be better off dead. After that, Jack never mentioned Ava or her baby again. The day I was discharged, he forced himself on me, over and over, all day long. His eyes were dark, terrifying, as if I were his mortal enemy. I didn’t understand why then. I understood three months later, when I was pregnant again. He drugged my food. Then he came into my room. He rode me all night, a storm of brutal, punishing thrusts. I screamed for my baby until my throat was raw. He ripped off his tie and stuffed it in my mouth. The tattoo on his palm was no longer my name. It was Ava’s. My baby was torn from my womb in a storm of violence, reduced to a pool of blood. Before I lost consciousness, I heard his voice, thick with rage. “Isn’t the title of Mrs. Croft enough to repay you for your father’s life?” “You killed Ava’s child. You had to know this was coming.” “Everything she suffered, I will make you suffer a thousand times over.” Jack was nothing if not stubborn. As a boy, he’d sworn he would conquer his autism, and he had, becoming a charismatic figure on the world stage. When my father was declared brain-dead, he knelt by my hospital bed and proposed, and I became the enviable Mrs. Croft. Now, he had personally murdered his own child. He was destroying me, trampling me, in the most humiliating way imaginable. Trapped in a prison of pain and despair, I was a living corpse, but I didn’t dare die. This was a torment worse than death. The day after I woke up in the hospital, a doctor delivered the final blow. “Mrs. Croft… I’m so sorry. Your father passed away last night.” “It was peaceful. He didn’t suffer.” I didn’t know if I should feel relief or grief. I dragged my broken body through the funeral arrangements. Every student my father had ever mentored came to pay their respects. Everyone except Jack. Swallowing my sorrow, I called him. He sneered into the phone. “He’s sleeping in a fifty-thousand-dollar-a-night clinic bed, better than I do. Why would he die?” “Look, I’m busy arranging a funeral for Ava’s dog. Don’t bother me.” The call was on speaker. The entire funeral hall fell silent. In the eyes of the man my father had saved with his own body, my father’s life was worth less than a dog’s. A kind friend asked, “Aren’t the twins coming to say goodbye to their grandfather?” I gave a bitter smile. I had called them. Their reply: “Good, the old bastard is finally gone. Now you can get lost too and stop clinging to our family!” Six months passed. Grass began to grow on my father’s grave. Jack never knew he had died. When I asked for a divorce, he signed the papers without hesitation. He thought he still had me under his thumb. He thought that in a few days, I would be on my knees, begging him to take me back. He even gave me his private number as a leash. But he was wrong. I would never beg him again. As I walked Chloe to her car, I pointed to the binders in her arms. “That’s over a decade of my life in there. Don’t lose it.” Chloe’s lips trembled. She wanted to say something, but all she could do was nod, her eyes red. She didn’t know what else to say. She just waved from the car—a farewell, and a wish for a better future. As the car drove away, she glanced back in the rearview mirror. What she saw made her entire body tremble. Forgetting that Jack was in a warm-up match, she dialed his number. “Captain… Evelyn… she set a fire… she burned herself alive…”

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On my deathbed, I gathered the last of my strength to lift a glass of water, my hand trembling violently. But my daughter slapped it away, sending water splashing across the sheets. “What’s the point of drinking? You’ll just live a few more days. Aren’t you tired of this?” “If you’re going to die, just get it over with. I’m waiting to collect the sympathy cash!” Tears streamed down my weathered face. “Why?” I finally choked out. “Why are you doing this to me?” She rolled her eyes, slowly pacing over to my bed. She leaned in close, her voice a cruel whisper. “Because you were poor. Because you were pathetic.” “I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve hated you since the moment I was born.” “If you didn’t have any money, why the hell did you have a kid? Couldn’t you just use a condom? No, you just had to have me!” “If it weren’t for you two, I could have been born into a good family, lived a life of luxury. But no, I had to be born to a pair of broke losers!” “So please,” she hissed, “if there’s a next life, stay the hell away from me. Don’t ruin my chances of being born rich.” So that was it. A single, bitter tear traced a path from the corner of my eye. I prayed to whatever was listening to grant her wish, and then, I closed my eyes for the last time. When I opened them again, I was reborn. 1 “Congratulations, ma’am. You’re pregnant!” The dizzying sensation of rebirth faded, and the first thing I heard was the doctor’s verdict. I froze, my eyes glued to the test results in my hand. Already pregnant? How could this be? Why was I reborn at this exact moment? The thought of bringing that little monster, that debt collector, into the world again made my legs tremble. In my last life, my daughter hated school as a child and hated work as an adult. She spent her days glued to her phone, constantly yelling, “You brought me into this world, so you have to take care of me! It’s not like I asked to be born. You two had your fun, and now you expect me to support you? Not a chance!” We tried to explain that we didn’t need her to care for us in our old age; we just hoped she could find a job, any job, to support herself. She’d just roll her eyes and snatch our wallets. “Why should I work? I have you, don’t I? You owe me. You have to support me for my entire life!” Honestly, we weren’t “poor.” We were a typical working-class family. My husband and I had scrimped and saved for years, buying a small apartment in the city and a ten-thousand-dollar car for commuting. We were doing okay, by normal standards. But “okay” was nowhere near enough to satisfy our daughter’s insatiable greed for luxury. After she had burned through our life savings, she used our IDs to take out one loan after another. My husband and I spent our final years hounded by debt collectors. It was a miserable existence. The memory of those days sent a shiver down my spine. Snapping back to the present, I grabbed the doctor’s sleeve. “Can I terminate it, doctor?” I pleaded. “Please, help me. I’m only six weeks along, it should be possible!” The doctor gave me a strange look. “Why would you want to do that? Weren’t you just considering IVF? Getting pregnant naturally is a good thing. Oh, I see. Are you worried about the baby’s health? Don’t be. From what we can see, everything looks perfectly normal.” I forced a bitter smile. She was right. My husband and I had always wanted children. We’d been trying for two years with no luck and had even started looking into fertility treatments. When I finally got pregnant, we were overjoyed. We treated our daughter like she was a miracle, our lucky star. Who could have known that our lucky star was a demon in disguise? I stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. Seeing my determination, the doctor sighed. “If you’re absolutely sure, you can. But I have to be clear with you. Your health isn’t ideal. If you terminate this pregnancy, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to conceive again. You need to think this through very carefully.” My heart clenched. “Why don’t you go home and discuss it with your husband? This is his child too, and I know how much he wanted this.” I walked out of the doctor’s office in a daze and sank onto a bench in the hallway, completely lost. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. A voice that wasn’t spoken aloud. “Hahaha, I’m back! And this time my mom is Sophia! This is awesome! I’m finally going to be a trust fund baby!” 2 I knew that voice. It was my daughter, Stella’s, voice! “Ugh, my last life was such a nightmare, being born to those broke losers. I couldn’t even afford a new skin for my game characters.” “This time, I’m going to live it up!” “I’m telling you, even a rich woman’s womb is different. It’s so much more comfortable in here than it was in that other one!” I frantically scanned the crowded hallway, trying to find the source of the voice. My eyes landed on a woman walking toward me. The voice was coming from her belly. And the woman was the very same “Sophia” Stella had mentioned—Sophia Sterling, the wife of my husband David’s boss. In my previous life, Stella had gone to work with David once. She’d come home in a rage, slamming doors and screaming at us. “Why aren’t you rich? Why are you so pathetic! Look at Mr. Sterling, look at Sophia, look at their son! Look at the life they live, and then look at mine! You’re such failures!” At the time, we thought it was just teenage angst. Now I understood. She had seen their wealth, and it had filled her with a toxic, burning envy. And in this life, she had actually been reborn in Sophia’s womb. And somehow, I could hear her thoughts. Sophia, holding her own test results, was heading toward the VIP clinic. As she passed, her belly was turned directly toward me. I quickly looked down. “Whoa, who’s this? Is that my broke-ass mom from my last life? Oh my god, look at what she’s wearing. Now look at what my mom is wearing. It’s like night and day!” “The reek of poverty is literally choking me.” “Looks like she’s pregnant too. Does she actually think I’m in there? Hah! As if. A phoenix doesn’t nest in a chicken coop. Get lost, loser!” The obnoxious voice faded as Sophia walked past. She hadn’t noticed me. Only when she was gone did I dare to look up. My hand drifted to my own belly. If Stella was in Sophia’s womb… then who was in mine? Could it be him? That poor, tragic little boy? A slow smile spread across my face. Oh, Stella. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. Being a rich kid isn’t as easy as you think. 3 My mood lifted instantly. Anyone. It could be anyone, as long as it wasn’t Stella. With that realization, a wave of relief washed over me, immediately followed by the pure, uncomplicated joy of pregnancy. I truly, deeply loved children. When I got home, I ran to my husband, David, who was cooking dinner, and threw my arms around him. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. In our last life, Stella forced us to work at a diner when we were in our seventies. He was a busboy, and I washed dishes in the back. He worried about me, always sneaking back to help whenever he could. One day, he slipped on the wet floor and nearly fractured his spine. That was when we found out. He had advanced stomach cancer. He’d been hiding the pain for months to save money. The doctor told him he needed to be admitted to the hospital immediately. Stella caused a massive scene, screaming that “stomach cancer is a death sentence anyway, it’s a waste of money!” She physically dragged him home and tossed a bottle of cheap painkillers at us. I tried to fight her, screaming for our bank cards, but she just shoved me. I fell to the floor, helpless. I was in my seventies, frail and thin. I was no match for her. We had never laid a hand on her when she was young, and now, in our old age, she beat us. That night, David and I held each other and wept. In the end, he died in agony. After he was gone, the diner let me go. Stella, seeing I was no longer of any use, dumped me in our old hometown and never spoke to me again. She only showed up right before I died, to hastily arrange a funeral so she could collect the cash gifts from mourners. Remembering the horrors of my past life, the tears came in a flood. I sobbed uncontrollably, letting out all the grief and pain I had held inside for so long. David panicked, trying to wipe my tears away. “What’s wrong? Being pregnant is a good thing! Why are you crying so hard? Are you just that happy?” I wiped my eyes and nodded fiercely. “Yes! I’m that happy! From now on, our family is going to be happy!” 4 Our apartment wasn’t large, but it was cozy. David worked at a tech company, a junior manager with a small team under him. He made decent money. I was an accountant at a small firm, earning less. Neither of us came from money. Our parents were uneducated, and we had fought our way out of a small town to build a life for ourselves in the city. We weren’t rich, but we weren’t destitute either. This time around, all I wanted was to live out our simple, peaceful life. Three months later, David came home with an invitation. “Honey, my boss, Mr. Sterling, is getting married again. I hear she’s twenty-three and already pregnant. He’s thrilled, and he’s invited all employees and their spouses.” I stared at the gold-embossed invitation, hesitating. Ever since my rebirth, I had avoided any contact with Stella, terrified she might somehow recognize me. But then I reminded myself that she was just a fetus. What could she possibly do? So, I went with my husband. The wedding venue was breathtaking. A carpet of rose petals, crystal chandeliers, gold-plated cutlery. Even the party favors were from a luxury brand. Sitting on the embroidered cushion, I felt completely out of place in my simple dress. No wonder Stella turned out the way she did. The world of the rich was beyond anything an ordinary person could imagine. The bride appeared. And I heard Stella’s thoughts, a cascade of awe. “Damn, that’s my dad! He’s so freaking rich! This is insane!” “Oh my god, I’m going to have the best life when I’m born! I’m going to be a freaking princess!” “Tsk, tsk. My last life was such a joke. This is the life I deserve!” I rolled my eyes. In her last life, she refused to study. Now, she couldn’t even find a sophisticated word to describe a lavish wedding. “Hey, isn’t that my pathetic loser parents from my last life? What are they doing at my parents’ wedding? Do they even belong here? Get those paupers away from me!” The bride and groom made their way to our table. I forced myself to remain calm and picked up my glass. But then, I heard it again. “Ugh, do we really have to toast them? So annoying.” “They made my last life a living hell, and now they have the nerve to expect a toast? I don’t think so. It’s time I taught you two a lesson. Time you learned what happens when you mess with the rich.” A jolt of fear went through me. What was she planning? Then, Stella’s thoughts changed, her voice shifting into the high-pitched, cooing tones of an infant. “Mommy, I don’t feel so good looking at those two. I feel like they want to hurt me! Oh… my head feels dizzy!” Sophia’s expression changed instantly. Her eyes, now full of suspicion, darted toward us. Mr. Sterling dropped his glass and stepped in front of her protectively, his gaze hostile. My heart pounded in my chest. They could hear her too!

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1 I was reincarnated as the tragic heroine of a romance novel, and my overbearing CEO boyfriend had a “dear sister” who was perpetually hospitalized. In the middle of the night, his phone rang again. He threw on his clothes in a hurry. “Clara’s not feeling well. I have to go see her.” According to the script, I was supposed to cry and beg him not to leave. Instead, I just watched his retreating back and felt a yawn coming on. The moment he was out the door, I called his arch-nemesis—the one with the chiseled eight-pack—and invited him over. The next morning, I timed it perfectly for when I knew he’d be at Clara’s bedside and video-called him. Seeing his face darken instantly, I drawled, “What’s wrong? You went to take care of your sister, didn’t you? The house felt so empty, I just found someone to keep me company. Is that so strange?” “And don’t get the wrong idea. It’s a purely platonic friendship. I’m very tired, Adrian. Could you please not be so unreasonable?” Before he could explode, I hung up. After all, if you can have a little sister, why can’t I have a big brother? … The moment the call ended, a dead silence fell over the living room. Larry Ryder raised an eyebrow, leisurely tying the belt of his bathrobe, concealing the sculpted planes of his abdomen. He let out a low chuckle, his voice laced with the undisguised glee of a spectator. “My guess? Mr. Vance will be back in ten minutes, tops.” I leaned back languidly against the sofa and took a sip of red wine. “I’ll bet five.” The words had barely left my lips when the front door slammed open with a deafening bang, as if it had been kicked in. Adrian was back. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving with rage. His gaze first sliced across the perfectly composed Larry, then landed on me, his voice squeezed through gritted teeth. “Seraphina, you’d better give me an explanation!” I swirled the liquid in my glass, feigning ignorance of his volcanic fury. “An explanation for what?” I lifted my eyes, my expression a mask of innocence. “I just had a friend over to hang out. What’s wrong with that?” “A friend?” Adrian scoffed as if I’d told the world’s most hilarious joke. He stalked forward and seized my wrist. “A friend who keeps you company in a bathrobe?! Seraphina, have you no shame?!” The disappointment and fury in his eyes threatened to swallow me whole. If I were the original Seraphina, my heart would be shattering right now. I’d be crying, pleading, trying to explain. But I’m not her. I calmly pulled my hand from his grip, rubbing the red marks on my wrist. My tone was light, dismissive. “Adrian, don’t be so unreasonable. We just watched a movie together. He just got out of the shower. Your constant suspicion is exhausting.” Every single word was a line he had used to placate the original Seraphina countless times. Adrian choked, his face a mottled canvas of white and red. He looked as if he couldn’t believe those words were coming from my mouth. Beside me, Larry let out a perfectly timed sigh and shrugged helplessly. “Adrian, please don’t mind me. Sera and I have always been like this. She’s never really seen me as a man. But since you seem to hate me so much, I’ll just go.” His performance—a masterclass in passive-aggressive manipulation—was impeccable. I immediately grabbed Larry’s arm as he pretended to leave, turning a reproachful gaze on Adrian. “Why are you being so hostile to him? Adrian, when did you become so petty?” “Petty?” Adrian was shaking with rage. “He’s a man, in our house, in the middle of the night! And you’re defending him!” “And Clara?” I finally revealed my endgame, a sweet smile playing on my lips. “Isn’t she a woman? She calls you in the middle of the night, and you go running without a second thought. Why don’t you ever mention the impropriety of a man and a woman being alone in a room together?” I took a step forward, looking directly into his furious eyes, pinning him in place with my words. “If you can have Clara as a sister, why can’t I have Larry as a brother? You can’t have it both ways, Adrian.” Adrian’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Trapped by his own twisted logic, he was rendered speechless. Finally, he just turned and slammed the door behind him. Silence returned to the living room. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and turned to Larry. “Thank you. Sorry you had to be part of the show tonight.” Larry’s playful demeanor vanished. He poured himself a drink and looked at me, his expression complex. “Seraphina, do you remember the university debate tournament? You were my opponent, and you argued me into a corner.” I paused. He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Even back then, I thought you belonged in the sunlight—confident and proud. Not trapped in this golden cage, letting your light be extinguished for a man.” He set down his glass and looked at me, his gaze serious. “It’s Adrian’s loss that he doesn’t cherish you. I’m not helping you for the drama. I just think you deserve better than this.” I looked into his sincere eyes, and the deep-seated resentment of the original soul within me felt a flicker of solace. He was right. I didn’t deserve this. And that poor woman deserved a much better ending. I touched my chest, my resolve hardening. Just wait. This was only the beginning. It was time for the villains of the story to suffer, just as the heroine had. Doubly so. Adrian didn’t come home the next day. I was more than happy for the peace and quiet. I even had a good night’s sleep for the first time in ages. It wasn’t until evening that the villa’s front door opened again. Adrian walked in, supporting a frail figure. It was the woman I had seen in countless photographs: Clara Lane. She wore a plain white dress, her face pale. She looked like a delicate white lotus, swaying in the slightest breeze. Adrian avoided my probing gaze and set her suitcase on the floor. “The doctor said Clara is still very weak and needs to rest,” he announced. “She’ll be staying here from now on, so I can take better care of her.” He paused, then added, “Just make an extra portion at mealtimes. It’s not much trouble.” Clara chose that moment to offer a weak, fragile smile. A triumphant glint flashed in her eyes as she looped her arm through Adrian’s. “Adrian-brother insisted,” she cooed. “He was just so worried about me being alone. I hope his wife won’t mind.” She drew out the word “wife,” her tone dripping with unconcealed provocation. Just as I was about to speak, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. It was the primal scream of the original Seraphina’s shattered soul. She was urging me, screaming at me to demand why Adrian would bring this woman into her home, to throw her out immediately. The intensity of the emotion nearly overwhelmed me. I took a deep breath, pressing a hand to my chest to soothe the turmoil within. I suppressed the wave of resentment and stretched my lips into a brilliant smile. “Mind? Of course not! Why would I mind? Welcome, little sister Clara.” My enthusiasm stunned both Adrian and Clara into silence. Pretending not to notice their shock, I continued warmly, “Adrian’s right. You need to be looked after. And it’ll be nice to have someone else around. It gets so lonely here by myself.” My tone shifted, and I clapped my hands together as if struck by a sudden, wonderful idea. “What a coincidence! I was just about to tell you, the house is about to get even livelier!” Adrian’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” I gestured toward the door. “My dear brother Larry is having his company and his home renovated at the same time. It’s a dusty mess, and I was worried about his health. I couldn’t bear the thought of him living all alone in a hotel, so I’ve invited him to stay with us for a while.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. I pressed the remote, and the door swung open to reveal Larry, casually pulling a silver suitcase behind him. Dressed in stylish casual wear, he took in the scene in the living room and raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. “Well, look at this. A full house.” He winked at me, then turned his gaze to Adrian, whose face had darkened like a thundercloud. “Adrian, I hope you won’t mind my intrusion for the next little while.” The air in the living room seemed to freeze. Clara’s smile was plastered to her face, and Adrian looked like he’d just swallowed a lemon. Oh, this was going to be fun. The war began the very next morning, in the kitchen. Clara was up at the crack of dawn, a pink apron tied around her waist, presenting Adrian with a bowl of painstakingly prepared congee. “Adrian-brother, try this. I simmered it all night,” she said, her voice a soft murmur. “I just hope your wife likes it. She seems to be a late riser.” I ignored the barb in her words and walked straight to the stove, taking four eggs from the refrigerator. Adrian frowned, his tone laced with command. “Clara made you breakfast. Sit down and eat.” I paid him no mind, turning on the heat and adding oil to a pan. With a sizzle, the fragrant aroma of frying filled the air, a stark contrast to her bland, watery porridge. I expertly cracked four eggs into the pan, frying them to a perfect, sunny-side-up finish. I plated two for myself and two on a separate plate. A vein throbbed in Adrian’s temple. “Seraphina,” he said through clenched teeth, “do you have to be like this?” “Like what?” I pierced a yolk with my fork, watching the golden river flow out. I took a slow, deliberate bite before looking up at him with an innocent smile. “You have your sister’s breakfast of love, and I have my high-protein meal. Oh, and by the way,” I gestured to the other plate, “these are for my brother Larry. He’s taking me for a heavy weightlifting session later, and we’ll need the energy.” With that, I picked up both plates and, ignoring their stunned faces, walked into the villa’s home gym. Larry was already there, finishing his warm-up. A fine sheen of sweat coated his bronze skin, the air thick with the scent of raw masculinity. “Your energy supply,” I said, handing him the plate. He took it and started eating without ceremony. An hour later, Adrian appeared at the gym door, his face a thunderous mask. He had probably come to confront me, but the sight before him froze him in place. I was struggling through my last set of weighted squats, my energy nearly spent. Larry was standing directly behind me, his shirt off, sweat trickling down his defined abs. His hands were placed firmly on my waist, his hot palms pressing against the thin, sweat-dampened fabric of my workout top. “I can’t… I can’t get up…” I panted. “Don’t give up,” Larry’s voice was a low, magnetic hum right next to my ear. “Feel the power in your glutes. That’s it… I’ve got you. Don’t be afraid.” His chest was almost completely flush against my back, moving with me, the position intimate and seamless. From Adrian’s angle, it looked as if he was holding me in a full embrace. CRACK! Adrian couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his fist into the doorframe. Larry and I both turned. My face was flushed from the workout, while Larry slowly straightened up, wiped the sweat from his chest with a towel, and gave Adrian a provocative look. “Trouble sleeping, Adrian?” Adrian’s eyes were murderous. He stared at the damp imprints of Larry’s hands on my waist, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he was speechless. What could he say? That it was improper for a man and woman to be so close? His dear sister was sitting in the dining room. That our position was indecent? He had personally massaged Clara’s sprained ankle just last night. Watching his face contort with a rage he was forced to swallow, I felt a sliver of the original soul’s resentment begin to dissipate. Still breathing heavily, I flashed Larry a grateful, sweet smile. “Thank you, Larry-brother. Having you here gives me so much strength.” Adrian’s fists clenched so tightly I could hear the knuckles crack. Late that night, I had just stepped out of the shower when my bedroom door was thrown open. Adrian stood there, reeking of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot. He stalked toward me, his scent and the smell of liquor engulfing me. Before I could react, he had me pinned against the wall behind the door. “Seraphina,” his voice was hoarse, edged with fury, “what the hell do you want?” He didn’t wait for an answer. His scorching lips crashed down on mine. The kiss was an invasion, a punishment. It was less a kiss and more a beast’s bite. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and, when he tried to deepen it, I wrenched my head to the side. He froze, his chest heaving as he fought for control. After a long moment, he buried his face in my neck, his voice suddenly laced with a raw, wounded tone. “Do we have to be like this? You were never like this before.” I almost laughed out loud. When the original Seraphina had poured her heart out for him, he had ignored her. Now that I was giving him a taste of his own medicine, he was the one feeling wronged? I placed a hand on his chest, feeling the frantic drumming of his heart through his shirt. “Are you jealous?” I whispered. His body went rigid. He snapped his head up, his eyes boring into mine in the dim light. His lips parted, but no words came out. Finally, as if I had struck a nerve, he let me go and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The next day, I was at the city’s most exclusive luxury boutique, picking out a tie clip for Larry as a thank you for his stellar performance. When I went to pay, the cashier handed my black card back to me apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This card has been frozen.” Before I could say anything, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Adrian, dripping with condescension: When you figure out how to be a proper wife, you can come and talk to me. Until then, all of your cards have been suspended. He thought he had me. He thought, just like the original Seraphina, I would panic, lose my mind, and come crawling back to him, begging for scraps. I glanced at the text and a contemptuous smile touched my lips. I pulled out a second phone and made a call. “Mr. Davies? It’s Seraphina Lockhart. The trust fund my mother left me… I’m activating it. Now.” At three o’clock that afternoon, I stood on a stage, bathed in the blinding light of flashbulbs. Dressed in a sharp, white power suit, I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Larry Ryder, unveiled as his most important new business partner. I smiled brightly for the cameras. I knew Adrian would see it. After the successful press conference, Larry handed me a glass of champagne. “Congratulations, Seraphina. A brilliant counterattack.” Just as I was about to toast him, the phone in my purse began to vibrate violently. I pulled it out. The screen was filled with missed call notifications. More than twenty of them. All from Adrian. I ignored it and was about to turn the phone off when it lit up again. This time, it was the private line from the Vance family estate. I answered. There was a second of silence, then a stern, aged voice boomed through the speaker. “Seraphina, have you had your fun yet?!” The Chairman’s voice was as imperious as ever, as if I were still the meek little thing the Vance family could control. “My fun?” I scoffed. “Mr. Chairman, is your memory failing you? Your son brought his ‘dear sister’ into my home and cut off my finances, and you have the nerve to say that I’m the one causing trouble?” He was clearly taken aback by my sharp retort. “You…” “Me what?” I cut him off. “Go manage your incompetent son. As for me, from this day forward, I’ll do whatever makes me happy.” I hung up just before his thunderous roar could erupt from the speaker. For the next few days, an eerie calm settled over the villa. Adrian, surprisingly, didn’t go running to Clara. Instead, he seemed to be trying to mend things with me. He knew the annual Starlight Gala was approaching. It was the biggest event of the year for the city’s elite, and the Vance family could not afford to lose face. On the night of the gala, I slipped into a flame-red mermaid gown I had prepared long ago. Adrian stood behind me, fastening a diamond necklace around my neck. His reflection in the mirror was a storm of complex emotions. “After tonight, let’s talk,” he said, his arms wrapping around me from behind, his voice almost a plea. “Send Larry and Clara away. We can…” He never got to finish his sentence.

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1 I was back at my in-laws’ for the holidays with my husband, Jake, and our three-month-old son, Leo. But my ten-year-old niece, Ashley, and her friend decided to throw him from an upstairs window while he was napping. Leo was killed instantly, right before my eyes. His cries were cut short, replaced by two faint whimpers before silence took over. He never moved again. I went mad, scooping him up to race to the hospital, but it was too late. He was already gone. Because of her age, Ashley faced no real consequences. The judge ordered them to pay half a million dollars in damages, but my sister-in-law, Karen, wailed that I was trying to ruin them. I didn’t want their money. I just wanted my baby back. I cried until my soul felt like it was tearing apart, begging them for some semblance of justice. But my husband and mother-in-law just scolded me. “Ashley’s just a child! Are you going to destroy her life just because your son is dead?” My quest for revenge went nowhere. That winter, my heart finally gave out. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was the day of the holiday party. The first thing I did was call my parents and have them take Leo away. But this time, a baby was still thrown from the window. … I had just sent my son off and stepped into my mother-in-law’s yard when a sickening thud echoed from the patio. A tiny body, wrapped tightly in a blanket, had slammed onto the stone tiles. Blood seeped through the fabric, staining it crimson. Stunned, I looked up. On the second floor, my niece, Ashley, shot me a defiant look before disappearing from the window. Jake and his mother rushed out at the sound. My mother-in-law let out a piercing scream, her legs giving way. Jake stumbled forward, his whole body trembling. He glanced at the bundle on the ground. “Nina… the baby… he’s not breathing.” I couldn’t even bring myself to look. I bolted upstairs and found Ashley had locked herself in her room. I kicked the door. “Ashley, you open this door right now! Who did you throw out that window!” No answer. But I could hear her and her friend giggling inside. “Ashley, what if they call the cops? Is my mom gonna ground me?” “Chill. We’ll just say it was an accident. Besides, the cops can’t do anything to kids.” Their careless words pierced me like shards of ice. I started to shake uncontrollably. I threw all my weight against the wooden door. “Get out here! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This is murder!” Jake, who had followed me up, grabbed my arm. His eyes were red-rimmed. “Nina, calm down. You’re scaring them.” I stared at him, my eyes burning with a familiar hatred. It was just like last time. Our son was dead, and his first concern was not frightening his niece. My mother-in-law, wiping away tears, added, “Ashley went a little too far this time, but Nina, you shouldn’t be so unforgiving.” “Leo was only three months old. He’s gone. You two can just try for another one.” I froze. It took a moment for their words to register. They thought it was my son. They thought Leo was dead. But I had just sent him away with my parents. So who was the tiny, broken body lying downstairs? 2 Jake moved to hug me, vowing, “Nina, I promise we’ll get justice for Leo, but Ashley is just a kid, she doesn’t know any better…” I shoved him away before he could finish. “She doesn’t know any better? Then why didn’t she jump herself?” With a surge of fury, I grabbed a chair and slammed it against the door. The wood groaned and shuddered, the vibrations shaking the whole house. “Ashley, get out here right now, or I swear I’ll break this door down!” How could she kill someone and feel nothing? Even if it wasn’t my son today, I would get justice for that poor child. My violent assault must have rattled her, because she finally yelled from inside, “Stop it! If you keep banging, I’ll jump!” I was panting, my arms aching. I turned, stormed to the kitchen, came back with a butcher knife, and hacked at the door. The blade bit deep into the wood and stuck fast. “Jump! If you don’t, I’ll come in there and kill you myself!” The threat finally worked. Ashley opened the door, her face a mask of bored annoyance. “Who did you throw out the window?” She tilted her chin up, rocking back and forth with a lazy arrogance. “Your son, who else?” I slapped her. Hard. The crack echoed in the hallway. Her head snapped to the side. Tears welled in her eyes as she cupped her cheek, her expression one of pure disbelief. “Why did you hit me? My own mom doesn’t hit me! You bitch—” Another slap, just as hard as the first. “That’s the problem! Because your mother never disciplined you, you’ve turned into a monster!” I grabbed her by the collar, my voice a low, furious growl. “I’ll ask you one more time. Who did you throw?” The fight went out of her. She mumbled, still holding her face, “It was your Leo. But it was an accident. I just wanted to see what would happen when he fell.” “I didn’t think he’d actually die.” 3 I glanced into the room. The window was wide open, letting a bitter wind whip through the space. Ashley’s friend was huddled on the edge of the bed, silent and terrified. They were old enough for elementary school. They knew damn well how dangerous it was. Jake tried to mediate. “She’s already said she’s sorry, honey. You’ve let off some steam. Let’s… let’s just bury the baby.” The absurdity of it all struck me. A human life was gone, and a simple “I’m sorry” was supposed to be enough? My mother-in-law rushed over and pulled Ashley into a tight hug, stroking her face. “You hit her so hard,” she murmured, full of pity. “Look how red her poor cheek is.” Her cheek was red. But that baby had lost its entire life. I shoved my mother-in-law aside and dragged Ashley by her hair toward the open window. “You wanted to see what would happen? Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Ashley started screaming, struggling against my grip. “No! I don’t want to! I’ll die! You’ll go to jail if you kill me! You’ll go to jail!” So she did know. She knew it was a crime, and she did it anyway. For the second time in my life, I couldn’t comprehend how a child could be so profoundly evil. A sharp pain shot through my arm as Jake wrenched me away. The force of it sent me stumbling, and my head cracked against the wall. I felt something warm and wet trickle down my temple. Jake shielded Ashley, his face a mask of exasperation. “Will you stop it? The boy is dead. Why are you taking it out on a child? You’re the one who wasn’t watching him!” Both he and his mother stood in front of Ashley, guarding her, looking at me as if I were the enemy. Just like last time. It finally clicked. They were a family, bound by blood. My son and I? We were nothing. Clutching my bleeding head, I reached for my phone with a trembling hand, ready to call the police. Jake kicked it out of my grasp, the phone skittering across the floor. “This is a family matter! Why are you calling the cops?” “Ashley’s not even eighteen. It’s useless to call them.” I used the wall to pull myself up, my gaze locking onto his, full of shattered hope. “That’s your son down there. And you’re just going to let it go?” A flicker of guilt crossed his face when he saw the blood on my forehead. “Nina, we can have another baby.” “But I only have one niece.” 4 What a great husband. So devoted to his family. I’d married him because he was filial and kind to his relatives. I never imagined that very quality would become the knife he’d plunge into my heart. He had never considered me and Leo to be his family. His family was them. His niece meant more to him than his own son. I turned to go downstairs, but my sister-in-law, Karen, came charging up, slamming her shoulder into me. She threw herself at Ashley, hugging her tightly. “Who do you think you are, hitting my daughter?” she shrieked. “I barely lay a hand on her! What gives you the right?” I was shaking with rage. “Why don’t you ask your daughter what she did?” “So your son dies and you blame my daughter? Maybe your son was just unlucky!” I hated her. But all I could think about was the child on the patio. Who was he? And what was he doing at my mother-in-law’s house? “Karen, you’re a mother too. If it was your son who died today, could you still say something so heartless?” Her pupils constricted. She pointed a finger at me, her voice dripping with venom. “You shameless bitch. Your son dies, so now you’re cursing my family? I’d say it’s a good thing your son died! Serves him right!” I grabbed my cracked phone from the floor and started walking downstairs. My mother-in-law shouted, “Stop her! She’s going to call the police!” Karen scoffed. “So what? Ashley won’t go to jail anyway.” “Are you stupid? If she calls the cops, they’ll sue us! We’ll have to pay!” Realization dawned on Karen’s face, replaced by an even deeper disgust. “Jake, look at the wife you married! Her own son is dead, and all she can think about is scheming for our money!” Jake’s face was grim as he chased after me. I had already texted my parents to call the police. He lunged for my phone and saw the message. His face contorted with rage, and he slapped me. “I told you this was a family matter! Why did you have to call the cops?” “My brother’s family is already struggling. Are you really trying to bleed them dry? I never knew you were so malicious.” I clutched my chest, a desperate, broken laugh escaping my lips. Malicious? Oh, I was. I wanted his entire family to burn in hell. Without another word, I continued downstairs. I had to know who that child was. A terrible suspicion was already forming in my mind, but I couldn’t bear to believe it. 5 Seeing that I was ignoring him, Jake grew frantic. He followed me down to the first floor. Just as I reached the back door, he grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight. “Nina, can you please stop making a scene? I already checked on Leo. He’s gone.” “Let’s just bury him. We can pretend none of this ever happened, okay?” I pushed him away, my face a blank mask. But then my eyes widened in horror. The spot on the patio where the baby had been was empty. I seized Jake’s collar. “Where is he? What did you do with the body!” Sirens wailed outside. Two police officers walked into the yard. “Who called this in?” Jake clamped a hand over my mouth, forcing a smile. “Officers, it was a mistake. My wife got it wrong, nobody called.” My mother-in-law and Karen hurried down, the former pointing at me and shouting, “She’s crazy! We were just having a little argument, and she calls the police over nothing!” The officers looked skeptical, but assuming it was just a domestic dispute, they took a brief statement and left. As soon as they were gone, Jake released me. “Nina, don’t you think I’m hurting too? The baby’s dead!” “But you had to make a scene and get everyone involved! How is Ashley supposed to face her classmates now? What will the people in this town think of our family?” I wiped the cold tears from my face. “Is any of that more important than a human life?” My eyes darted around the yard, desperately searching for the child. But he was nowhere. I searched every corner of the house, but the body was gone. Then my gaze fell on the outhouse. As I started towards it, Karen grabbed my arm. “That toilet’s broken. Go somewhere else.” I coldly shook her off and walked toward the small wooden structure. The stench hit me before I was even close. A corner of the bright red blanket was visible, floating in the filth. My entire body began to tremble, and a raw, agonized scream tore from my throat. “Are you even fucking human?”

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My colleagues started holding all our company potlucks at my place after they discovered I was a good cook. And since Mandy, the new girl in accounting, offered to have everyone chip in for groceries, I didn’t have the heart to say no. On my last day of work, we had one final get-together at my house. Mandy was all smiles. “Clara, you’re seriously an amazing cook,” she said. “As a little thank you, we each sent you seventy-five bucks.” But the next day, she sent me a message. “Clara, running an unpermitted food business is illegal. Not only can they shut down your home, but since the total value of transactions is over fifteen hundred dollars, you’ll have to pay a fine of twenty times that amount.” “But since we’re all colleagues, we won’t report you. We can handle this privately.” “Just give us the twenty times fine as compensation.” That’s when I realized it. Up to that final dinner, the total amount of money they had all chipped in for groceries was exactly one thousand five hundred and one dollars. 1 Mandy had barely started her job in accounting, but she was already showing off her new designer handbag to everyone in the office. My coworkers oohed and aahed, telling her how rich she must be. It was exactly the reaction she wanted. She covered her mouth with her hand, giggling. “Oh, you guys will be able to afford one soon, too,” she said. She set the expensive bag on her desk and then wrapped her arms around mine, her voice turning pleading and sweet. “Clara, I heard you’re resigning. We should have one last get-together, right? I mean, who knows when we’ll ever get to taste your amazing cooking again.” I told her it was no problem and asked everyone to make a list of what they wanted to eat so I could prep. I planned a huge feast: her favorite sweet and sour pork ribs, a whole roasted salmon, slow-braised short ribs, and a few light vegetable dishes—all things they’d raved about before. It was a lot of work, but it was the last time. When she heard me agree, she gave me a huge hug. “You’re the best, Clara! With skills like yours, you could totally be a professional chef!” I smiled, still a little uncomfortable with her being so touchy-feely, and gently eased away. My best friend, Kate, picked me up from work that day and saw the menu I’d jotted down in my phone’s notes. She knew all about my dinner parties for my colleagues and couldn’t help but lecture me. “You’re about to leave, why are you still bothering with them?” she grumbled. “It’s not like you need the grocery money. It’s so much work, and what if something goes wrong? They’ll just blame you.” Kate owned a restaurant, so she’d seen her fair share of people trying to scam free meals. She was worried I’d get taken advantage of. “After you quit, come stay with me for a few days. Just relax. Stop being everyone’s free personal chef.” I figured it was just one last dinner, a nice way to say goodbye to my colleagues. What could possibly go wrong? I promised Kate it would be the absolute last time. The next morning at work, Mandy rushed over to my desk. “Clara, Clara! I told everyone about the party!” she announced. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to catch the attention of a few nearby coworkers, who all chimed in about how excited they were for the weekend. Then, Mandy sent me the menu. It was long. “I already asked everyone what they wanted, so you can just follow this list. No need to stress about it!” My eyes widened when I saw Lobster Thermidor on the list. My smile faltered. “Mandy, some of these dishes are really complicated, and the ingredients are not cheap…” Before I could finish, Mandy’s face fell into a pout. “Clara, are you saying you think we’re just a bunch of freeloaders?” I immediately denied it. She looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “It’s just… after you leave, we won’t get to eat your food anymore. We wanted to try some new things,” she wheedled. “Don’t worry, we’ll all chip in for the groceries, just like always.” I felt cornered. I finally gave in. “Okay, but this time, you’ll all need to send me the money first. I’ll refund you whatever is left over.” A corner of Mandy’s mouth twitched. She was still smiling, but her tone had an edge to it. “And here I thought we were all good friends. Guess it was just one-sided.” I frowned. Usually, a dinner party cost maybe twenty or thirty dollars per person for groceries. This time, it was going to be in the hundreds. I wasn’t about to front that kind of cash. “Money’s just a bit tight for me right now,” I said simply. “I probably don’t have enough to cover all the ingredients myself.” Her expression changed to one of understanding. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I totally misunderstood. I’ll definitely come over early on the weekend to help you out!” That night, Mandy was active in the work group chat, asking about food allergies and telling everyone to send me the money. Seeing their excited messages, the uneasy feeling in my gut started to fade. On the weekend, Mandy showed up late, saying something had come up. I didn’t think much of it. Everyone had a wonderful time. At the end of the night, when I tried to refund them the leftover money, they all refused. Instead, each of them transferred another seventy-five dollars directly to my bank account. Mandy beamed, telling me it was just a little token of their appreciation. I was genuinely touched. But later that night, after I’d finished cleaning the kitchen and finally sat down to rest, I got a notification. Mandy had added my personal phone number to a new group chat. It was called “The Final Withdrawal.” 2 When I first started the job, I’d foolishly used my personal number for work. Kate had chewed me out for it, so I got a new number just for professional use. Everyone at work had contacted me on that number for years. Why would she suddenly add my old, personal number to a group called “The Final Withdrawal”? I wasn’t expecting any kind of deposit. I figured maybe she’d forgotten I didn’t use this number anymore and added me by mistake. I was about to message her privately when a file popped up in the chat. It was a detailed spreadsheet documenting every single dinner party, the number of attendees, the cost of groceries for each meal, and screenshots of every single transfer they’d ever sent me. I hadn’t realized it, but over the past three years, my colleagues had come to my place for dinner more than forty times. There were holiday celebrations, promotion parties… every time, everyone had a blast and would always say, “Let’s do this again soon!” I felt a wave of nostalgia. Sometimes, workplace friendships could be truly heartwarming. Then, Mandy started sending a flurry of voice messages. “According to federal law, it’s illegal to engage in food service operations without a license.” “If the total value of goods exceeds fifteen hundred dollars, the fine is twenty times that amount. That’s the basis for our compensation claim against Clara.” Her voice was dripping with a smug, cruel satisfaction that made my mind go completely blank. One sixty-second voice note after another kept popping up. “Not only do we get back all the grocery money we ever gave her, but we’ll each walk away with a few thousand dollars extra.” “Think about it. Fifteen hundred bucks in a savings account for three years earns you pocket change. But invested with Clara? We’ve hit the jackpot.” “You all should be thanking me. If it wasn’t for my idea, you wouldn’t be seeing any of this money.” She then coached them on how to pressure me into paying. She sent a barrage of links to food industry regulations. “Familiarize yourselves with these. Don’t mess this up when it counts. We even paid her extra on that last dinner just to push the total over the fifteen-hundred-dollar mark.” I numbly scrolled to the bottom of the spreadsheet. The grand total of all their contributions over three years. $1,501. The number was so precise, so deliberate. It felt like a shard of ice piercing my heart. “Don’t worry, what she did is a clear violation. She’s legally liable. The twenty-times compensation is just the start. If this goes to the Health Department, they could seize her home.” “She’ll pay. She has to.” Soon, others started typing. These were the same colleagues who had always been so warm and friendly to my face. “If it wasn’t for this payout, I would’ve stopped chipping in ages ago. Twenty bucks a person? I can get a decent lunch for fifteen.” “Mandy, you’re a genius. A true accountant, always looking out for our bottom line.” “Not like that snake Clara. Charging us so much for that last dinner? She was trying to rip us off. Well, she’s about to regret it!” I couldn’t believe it. The kind, friendly people I thought I knew were hiding these ugly, twisted faces. The most laughable part? They had been planning this from the very beginning. For three years. They were now gleefully comparing how many dinners each of them had attended, calculating how much compensation they were owed. Watching them celebrate their victory, a chilling cold spread through my limbs. My heart felt like it was bleeding. They were the ones who had suggested the dinners. They were the ones who had offered to split the cost of groceries. I had never cut corners. I always chose fresh, healthy ingredients. A meal like the ones I prepared would have cost a fortune at a restaurant, but I only ever charged them about twenty dollars each, just enough to cover the food. I never even charged for my labor. Then they got bolder, making more and more demanding requests, and I did my best to accommodate them. One colleague, who not only attended every single dinner but also always hitched a ride with me, spoke up. “Mandy, are you sure we can get twenty times the amount? That’s like, thirty thousand dollars.” Mandy’s voice note was quick and confident. “Don’t worry. I’ve done my homework.” She posted screenshots of every single transfer. “All we have to do is stick to the story: she was running a business for profit, and these were payments for her catering services.” “Besides, remember how I told you all to add a note to every transfer?” “She can’t deny it. Even if she takes this to court, we have the upper hand.” It hit me then. Every time they sent me money, they’d always added a little note: “Meal Payment” or “Catering.” I thought it was just to help me keep track of the money. I never imagined it was another piece of their trap. The chat went quiet for a moment. Then, someone asked hesitantly. “Mandy, isn’t this a little… harsh? Maybe we could ask for just a few times the amount. Twenty seems like a lot. We all used to be friends.” Mandy’s reply was swift and vicious. “Whose side are you on? This is for all of us!” “You were all for it when I first brought it up.” “Trying to be the good guy now? A little late for that, don’t you think? Anyone who backs out now will have to deal with me.” No one else objected. The truth of their three-year deception was laid bare before me, bloody and raw. A cruel joke mocking my own stupidity.

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At the company’s annual party, I won a smart watch in the third-prize drawing. Because of that, my boss gave the thirty-thousand-dollar Sales Champion bonus that should have been mine to an intern, Amelia Lin. “Ava,” he said, “one prize per person. That’s only fair.” Amelia clutched the sales champion trophy, beaming triumphantly on stage. I couldn’t suppress the rage boiling inside me. Just as I was about to storm the stage and demand justice, my colleague, Chloe, stopped me. “Amelia is dating Nathan Reed, the CEO of our biggest client. You don’t want to mess with her.” Nathan Reed? My brother-in-law? The one who married into my sister’s family and was basically a spineless freeloader? I immediately pulled out my phone and shot a text to my sister. “Sis! Get over here! Time to catch a cheater!” … Amelia held the trophy, her voice soft and delicate as she delivered her acceptance speech. “I’d like to thank the company for this opportunity, and Mr. Evans for his recognition. I’ll continue to work hard and create even more value for our company.” Before she could finish, I rushed onto the stage and snatched the microphone from her hand. A piercing shriek of feedback echoed through the speakers, and the entire room fell silent. “Sales Champion,” I said, my voice ringing out. “Does everyone here know what that means?” Without waiting for a response, I connected my laptop to the projector and displayed the annual performance report that had been sent to the company-wide group chat just three days prior. My name was at the very top, leagues ahead of everyone else. I had outsold the person in second place by a full eight million dollars. Amelia acted as if she hadn’t seen it, letting out a soft, dismissive laugh. “And what does that prove?” she asked, her tone light and flippant. “Just because your numbers are the highest, does that mean you get to erase everyone else’s hard work?” She leaned closer to the microphone, her voice suddenly sharp and loud. “Besides, Ava, everyone in this company has heard the rumors about how you got those numbers… I bet you’ve cozied up to every single one of our clients, haven’t you?” “Do you really think someone like you, who uses their looks and schemes to close deals, even deserves to be called the Sales Champion?” Cozied up to clients? I hadn’t taken a single day off all year. I was up before the sun and worked late into the night, meeting clients rain or shine. If a client called me at two in the morning, I would crawl out of bed to answer. Countless days and nights of relentless effort, and in one breath, she had made it all sound worthless. I forced down my anger and walked right up to her. “I don’t deserve it?” “Then do you?” I turned to face the audience, my gaze sweeping over every single person in the room. “Even if it wasn’t me, it should have been Ben Carter in second place. There is no way it should have been you, Amelia.” Ben shot up from his seat, knocking his chair over with a loud crash. His face was pale, and he waved his hands frantically, stumbling over his words. “Ava! You can’t say that!” “Amelia’s numbers… it’s because she started late! Right, right! She started late!” “When I first joined the company, my performance was nowhere near this good. So, if you really think about it, the Sales Champion has to be Amelia!” “I fully support the company’s decision. I have no objections!” The room was dead silent. Some stared intently at their phones, others fiddled with the tablecloths. No one dared to speak, and no one dared to meet my eyes. The unspoken pressure was like a sword hanging over my head. I looked at Mr. Evans, who had remained silent. He sat at the head table, slowly turning a teacup in his hands, his face cold and clearly displeased with my actions. “Ava, you’re a senior employee. Don’t you know how to consider the bigger picture?” “This company values teamwork and harmony, not a place for you to be a hero and create conflict!” He set the teacup down with a sharp clink. “You’ve already won a prize. You should be content.” “Do you have to make a scene and embarrass everyone?” “If you don’t even have this basic sense of teamwork, then I don’t think you’re fit to lead the project team anymore.” “I’ll have to reconsider your position as team lead.” Mr. Evans leaned forward, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Now, apologize to Amelia, and we’ll put this matter to rest.” My stomach churned with anger. I couldn’t understand how such an idiot had become a boss. “Apologize to her? Not a chance!” Chloe was blinking frantically at me. “Ava, just give in,” she whispered. “Amelia is Nathan Reed’s girlfriend. Mr. Evans is treating her like a cash cow, he’s terrified of offending her.” Chloe showed me Amelia’s social media feed, which was filled with intimate photos of her and Nathan. My anger flared. I pointed at the pictures and demanded, “What is your relationship with Nathan Reed?” Amelia was taken aback for a moment, then lifted her chin, a hint of a smirk in her smile. “We’re dating, of course.” My sister still hadn’t replied to my text. I tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail. “Dating? Don’t you know Nathan Reed has a wife? Or do you just enjoy being a homewrecker?” My words were like a stone dropped into a still pond. The silence was finally broken as everyone started whispering, their gazes on Amelia now filled with doubt. Mr. Evans shot to his feet, slamming his hand on the table. “Ava, how dare you slander Mr. Reed! I think you’re tired of working here!” … The next morning, the office was silent and tense. My desk was completely empty. My belongings were piled up like trash on a stained, old table in the breakroom. Amelia was sitting at my desk, meticulously wiping the surface with an alcohol wipe. When she saw me, she looked up, tossed the used wipe into the trash with disgust, and fanned the air in front of her nose. “Ava, what do you even do at your desk all day? The smell…” She stood up, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked over to me. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the pile of my things. “Well, space is tight right now, and there are no other empty desks. From now on, you can sit over there.” A dull throb started in my temples, but my face was a blank mask. My voice was calm. “And who are you? Since when do you call the shots around here?” “Ahem!” A loud, deliberate cough came from the general manager’s office. Mr. Evans emerged, his hands clasped behind his back, and strolled into the center of the office. “Everyone, stop what you’re doing. I need two minutes of your time.” “After careful consideration by the management team, we have decided that, effective today, the position of Project Team Lead will be filled by Amelia Lin. She is young, driven, and a fast learner. I am confident she will lead the team to new heights.” He paused, his gaze landing on me like a cold, sharp needle. “As for the former team lead, Ava Dyer, her disregard for company discipline, public slander of a colleague’s reputation, and insubordination towards her superiors have had an extremely negative impact.” “She is hereby demoted to the position of intern, with a three-month probationary period. If any similar behavior occurs during this time, she will be terminated immediately!” The office erupted. The few colleagues I was close with looked outraged. “Ava is the backbone of our team’s performance! This is so unfair!” “Seriously, connections are more important than ability, I guess…” “Shh! Keep your voice down, do you want to get fired?” Amelia stood tall, basking in the attention. “Don’t you all have work to do?” she snapped. “Is it your place to question the company’s decisions? Anyone else who wants to defend her can join her in the breakroom!” I didn’t want to waste my breath on pointless arguments. I quietly walked over to my new “desk.” It wasn’t so bad. Unlimited coffee, all the snacks I could eat, and sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was much more comfortable than my old, cramped cubicle. I made myself a strong cup of tea, grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds, and settled in to enjoy the peace and quiet. Meanwhile, the newly appointed Team Lead Amelia was in over her head. With the year-end approaching, it was a critical time for maintaining client relationships and securing contract renewals. She went from client to client, armed with thick binders of information, only to be met with vague excuses and delays. In less than a week, she had managed to bungle three major annual contracts that I had already essentially closed, which were just waiting for the final paperwork. She stomped into Mr. Evans’ office, her heels clicking angrily. A short while later, Mr. Evans emerged, his face grim. He slammed a stack of voided contracts onto the cluttered table in front of me. “Ava! Are you behind this?” His finger was practically in my face. “Why did these clients suddenly back out? Tell me! Did you contact them privately? Did you say something you shouldn’t have?” I slowly finished my last sunflower seed, took a sip of tea, and looked up at him. “Mr. Evans, why don’t you check the security cameras?” “I clock in and out on time every day. I haven’t strayed more than fifteen feet from this breakroom, and I’ve barely made any phone calls. What could I possibly have done? Used telekinesis?” Mr. Evans was speechless. He could only glare at me before storming off. A few days later, Amelia finally managed to land a deal with a small, new company for a ten-thousand-dollar contract. The company actually held a special commendation ceremony for it. Under the spotlight, she held the thin contract, her smile radiant. At the end of the meeting, Mr. Evans called my name again, his voice booming through the microphone. “Ava, do you see? This company can function perfectly fine without anyone! Always remember to be humble. If you’re not as good as someone else, you have to admit defeat!” Amelia stood beside him, her eyes filled with unconcealed triumph and scorn. Mr. Evans cleared his throat and delivered the final verdict. “In light of Ava Dyer’s passive performance during her probationary period, the management has unanimously decided to terminate her employment contract, effective immediately.” “Now, please proceed to the HR department to complete your exit procedures.” The room was silent. I smiled, not bothering to defend myself. I took out my phone and, in front of everyone, left all the company group chats. The world instantly became much quieter. As I was packing up my things, the receptionist came running into the office, flustered. “Mr. Evans! Mr. Evans! Mr. Reed is here! He’s just downstairs!” Amelia’s eyes lit up, and she followed Mr. Evans downstairs to greet him. I set down my cardboard box and waited. I was also looking forward to seeing my dear brother-in-law. … Nathan Reed stepped out of the elevator, surrounded by an entourage, his expensive suit jacket casually draped over his arm. His gaze swept past me as I stood in the hallway holding my box, without a flicker of recognition. It seemed he had completely forgotten our brief meeting at my sister’s wedding four years ago. Mr. Evans obsequiously ushered Nathan and Amelia into his large office. The heavy wooden door closed, shutting out all prying eyes. They were in there for two full hours. When the door opened again, Mr. Evans was practically glowing. He was half-bowed, shaking Nathan’s hand vigorously. “Mr. Reed! Mr. Reed! You’re a lifesaver! To bring us such a massive annual framework agreement at this critical time, you’ve saved our entire company!” Nathan smoothly withdrew his hand, as if he had touched something unclean. “We’ve been partners for years. There’s a basic level of trust,” he said, his tone flat and emotionless. His eyes fell on Amelia, who was clinging to his side, looking gentle and submissive. “Besides… I’m sure you understand the relationship between Amelia and me.” Amelia appropriately lowered her gaze, the very picture of a demure, dependent woman. Nathan continued, “I’ve offered her a comfortable, respectable position at my company several times, but she insists on making it on her own.” “She’s just too pure. She’s always worried about gossip, that people will say I’m using my power to help her.” Mr. Evans immediately bowed even lower, his voice oozing with flattery. “Yes, yes! Everyone can see Ms. Lin’s capabilities, and her character is impeccable! You can rest assured, she will never be wronged here!” “Oh? Is that so?” Nathan raised an eyebrow, a hint of doubt in his voice. “But last night, I heard Amelia say she was treated quite unfairly at the office a few days ago? I believe… someone publicly slandered her?” A thin layer of cold sweat instantly beaded on Mr. Evans’ forehead. His panicked gaze darted around the room before finally landing on me, standing quietly in the corner with my box. He practically lunged at me, shoving me forcefully in front of Nathan. The push was so hard I stumbled. “Mr. Reed! A misunderstanding! A huge misunderstanding!” Mr. Evans’ voice was shrill as he rushed to distance himself. “This was an individual employee’s actions! It has nothing to do with our company!” “She was jealous that Amelia won the Sales Champion award, so she started spreading malicious rumors! As you can see, we’ve already dealt with her sternly. We’ve fired her! She’s leaving right now!” All eyes were on me. I steadied the box in my arms, lifted my head to meet Nathan’s scrutinizing gaze, and then, slowly, a smile spread across my face. I raised my free hand and wiggled my fingers at him. “Long time no see,” My voice was clear and steady, cutting through the dead silence of the office. “Brother-in-law.”

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