1 A guy dropped a bomb in the company-wide chat: “I liked a new hire earlier this month, then saw her getting into a luxury car. How do I get over that?” The chat exploded. Everyone pressed for details, but he just wallowed. “Girls have it so easy—just smile, cross their legs, and some fool takes the bait!” “While honest guys eat cheap lunches, those girls are trying too hard to be chic in cafés.” “Why chase rich old men instead of building a life with someone like us?” Finally, he sent a voice message, righteous and angry: “To the gold digger reading this—I looked into that man. He’s married. Don’t you dare wreck a home.” I’d had enough. “That’s slander without proof. Watch your mouth.” He tagged me instantly: “@Stella, I was being nice not naming you. Still acting innocent, gold digger?” I was stunned. He meant me. But what he didn’t know—don’t rich men have daughters too? … While I was still reeling, messages flooded the chat. Liam kept tagging me. “@Stella You had a lot to say a minute ago. What, playing dead now?” “@Stella So what’s it like being a kept woman? How’s it feel to be with an old geezer?” “@Stella Was it good?” The words on the screen made my vision swim with rage. I almost screamed a string of curses right there at my desk. “Who the hell are you?” “Do we even know each other?” The company-wide chat was an unofficial thing HR set up for goofing off, so everyone used screen names. I had no idea who this guy was. “Oh, here we go again with the innocent act. If you don’t know me, why’d you accept my gifts?” Now I was completely lost. I had absolutely no memory of this person. In the month and a half since I’d joined the company, I’d done almost nothing but focus on my projects at my desk. I had practically zero social interaction. Besides, I was engaged, so I naturally kept a certain distance from my male colleagues. I would never just accept a gift from a guy out of the blue. “I think you have the wrong person,” I typed out carefully. “Wrong person? I’d know you even if you were a pile of ash!” “Stella Ross!” My mind went blank, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Chloe, the girl who started on the same day as me, leaned her head over the cubicle divider. A malicious smirk played on her lips. “Stella, I never would’ve guessed you were that kind of person.” She clicked her tongue, her voice dripping with meaning. “You always seem so quiet and harmless. Who knew you were playing such a wild game behind everyone’s back?” “Hey, how do you even meet those rich sugar daddies?” “Come on, tell me!” I forced down my anger and managed a thin smile. “You probably wouldn’t have a chance. I’ve known my ‘sugar daddy’ since the second I was born.” At my words, Chloe’s face instantly darkened. She muttered something about me being a phony and spun back to her own desk. Ignoring her venom, I tagged the guy back in the chat. “Who are you? What gift did I ever take from you? When did I ever become a mistress?” “Do you realize what you’re doing is libel?” “You have ten minutes to apologize, or we can continue this conversation at the police station.” The message had barely gone through when my team lead came rushing over, her face a mask of panic. She snatched my phone out of my hands and quickly deleted my last three messages. “What are you doing?!” “You have the nerve to ask me what I’m doing?!” She slammed my phone down on the desk and poked me hard in the shoulder. “I look away for five minutes, and you cause this much trouble for me!” “Let me ask you, do you even want this job anymore?” Being slandered for no reason and then immediately threatened… even with my usually calm temper, I wasn’t going to take this lying down. “I caused trouble?” “I’m the victim here! I don’t even know who this guy is! He’s…” “He’s Liam Hall! Manager Hall’s son!” my lead cut me off impatiently. “Do you understand me now?” “Now, right now, get in that chat and apologize to Liam.” My brow furrowed. “Who’s Liam Hall?” It wasn’t that I was forgetful. It was that my brain had absolutely no record of anyone by that name. Seeing my blank expression, my lead looked like she was about to explode. “Can you stop playing dumb at a time like this?” “If you don’t know him, why did you take his gifts?” Just then, the chat pinged with new messages. It was Liam, sighing dramatically. “Buy a buddy a round of beers, and he’d die for you!” “Treat our dear Stella to a nice meal, and she calls you a broke loser!” Chloe immediately replied, “She’s too high and mighty for us common folk!” That opened the floodgates. Colleagues I knew, and ones I’d never even spoken to, all started piling on. “Why’d the homewrecker go quiet?” “I’d love to interview Ms. Ross. Aren’t you afraid of getting your ass beat for being a mistress?” “What’s to be afraid of? Didn’t you notice she goes for old guys? The wives are probably old hags who can’t even throw a punch.” My team lead, who was watching this unfold, nudged me again. “Hurry up! Apologize to Liam, and make it sound good.” “If you don’t, I can’t protect your job!” 2 She wasn’t being subtle. The message was clear: if I didn’t bow down and apologize, I was fired. Of course, I didn’t really care about the job. I’d only gotten it because I was bored and needed something to do. But I cared about my reputation. I had done absolutely nothing, yet this person, a total stranger, had slapped me with the labels of “gold digger” and “mistress.” I couldn’t just swallow that. Furious as I was, I forced myself to calm down and took screenshots of every single incriminating message in the chat. Preserving the evidence was just step one. My continued silence in the chat only fueled Liam’s arrogance. He posted a photo of my back as I was getting into a car. It was the Rolls-Royce Ghost my dad had bought over a year ago. “@Stella You said I was lying?” “Then take a look. Who’s this woman?” Chloe quickly replied with a thumbs-up emoji. “I sit right next to Stella. That beige coat is definitely hers.” Other colleagues were getting excited. “So it’s confirmed! We have an office gold digger!” “Looks like it. Notice how she’s not talking anymore?” “Bet she’s about to leave the group.” As they all chattered, Liam tagged me three more times. “@Stella Look, even though you’ve been… used, I’m not a cruel guy. As long as you come back to me, I’ll still take you.” After Liam revealed his identity, a few of his dad’s underlings started kissing up to him. “Damn, that car must be worth millions, right? How rich is that old guy?” “That’s our Liam, always the bigger man!” “I’m telling you, you can’t trust a woman like that! She’ll cheat on you for sure!” “Let her! We’ll see if I don’t beat her to a pulp!” My manager, who was enjoying the show, didn’t forget to nudge me. “Hurry up and apologize to Liam!” I took a deep breath. “That’s my family’s car. My dad was picking me up to go home. Is there a problem with that?” A second later, Liam sent another voice message. He let out a snide little hum. “Your sugar daddy, or your actual daddy?” My manager shot me a glare. “I told you to apologize, didn’t you hear me?” She tried to grab my phone again, but I blocked her with my arm. Behind me, Chloe snickered, covering her mouth. “Stella, I just have one question.” “Does the old guy you’re with… have that old man smell?” The moment she finished speaking, police sirens wailed from downstairs. Everyone’s face changed. My manager stared at me in horror. “You called the police?” I let out a small laugh. “What, you wanted me to just sit here and let them keep making things up?” When the officers arrived, they asked for my basic information before turning on their body cams. With the camera rolling, I showed them the entire chat history, explaining repeatedly that it was all baseless, malicious speculation. After getting the full picture, the police helped me find the infamous Liam Hall. He was still glued to his phone, typing furiously in the group chat. When he saw the officers, a flicker of guilt crossed his face. “What do you guys want?” The police didn’t mince words. “Do you know Stella Ross?” He scoffed and nodded. “Of course. She’s my ex-girlfriend.” I was standing behind the officers, and I couldn’t listen to another second of it. I stormed right up to him. “Liam Hall, what the hell are you talking about?” “I don’t even know you! How can you lie like this in front of the…” My words caught in my throat. I stopped. Because the man standing in front of me… I didn’t just know him. He was very, very familiar. 3 “It’s you?” The words tumbled out of my mouth, catching even the police officers off guard. “You two know each other?” Liam’s eyes widened with a desperate eagerness. “Of course, we know each other!” He walked over and casually slung an arm around my shoulder. “Right?” I shoved him off, disgusted. “No!” “He’s harassed me before. Does that count as knowing him, officer?” When I first joined the company, Liam was a security guard at the front desk. Out of basic politeness, I’d say hello to him every time I came in. But a while back, I left work early and happened to overhear him bragging to someone that I had a crush on him. “If she didn’t like me, why would she say hi to me every day?” “Look, I’ll be honest with you. Girls who act all shy on the surface are secretly wild.” “Once I land her, I’ll definitely let you guys have a look.” I almost threw up right then and there. I didn’t even know his name! From that day on, I never said another word to him. But my ignoring him only made him more aggressive. He started popping up everywhere, harassing me. In the cafeteria, he even had the nerve to ask me to buy him lunch. After that happened a few times, I lost all my patience and just had my family’s cook prepare my meals, which I brought to work every day. That, of course, earned me the label of “pretentious bitch” from Chloe. Thinking back on it all, my fists clenched. “Officer, he has already slandered me with baseless accusations. I demand that he write a formal letter of apology and post it publicly in the group chat.” It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and the officers seemed to agree. But Liam, having heard the whole thing, was not happy. “What did I slander you about?” “You got into an old man’s car, right? And that man has a wife, right?” His selective twisting of the facts made one of the officers chuckle. “Liam, I suggest you take the easy way out. She’s giving you a chance to save face. If we have to take you down to the station, it won’t look good for you.” That shut him up. He stared at me for a long moment. “Fine, I’ll apologize. But first, you have to give me back the gift I gave you! And you have to reimburse me for all the money I spent on you!” I was at a loss. “What gift did you give me?” “And when did you ever spend money on me?” Liam gave me a look loaded with meaning. “Are you really playing dumb?” “That lollipop! Aren’t you going to give it back?” His words instantly pulled me back into a memory. There was a time when his harassment had gotten so unbearable that I gave him an ultimatum: stop following me during my lunch break. He agreed readily, but with one condition. “I’ll leave you alone, but you have to buy me a coffee from the cafe across the street.” I agreed and handed him a ten-dollar bill. Half an hour later, he found me with a single lollipop. “There was a dollar and fifty cents left over. I couldn’t bear to spend it, so I bought you this candy. See? I’m good to you, right?” I didn’t want to engage with him and was busy with work, so I didn’t reply. The next time I looked, Chloe had already eaten the lollipop. “Also, I spent a total of three hundred and twenty-eight dollars on cafeteria lunches just so I could eat with you. You should pay for that too!” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the absurdity. The officers looked both exasperated and amused. Finally, one of them gave Liam a warning. “You can either apologize to her right now, or you can come with us to the station. Your choice.” 4 Liam didn’t dare cross the police. Reluctantly, he posted an apology in the group chat. The few colleagues who had piled on also chimed in with their own apologies. Whether they were sincere or not, at least I felt a little better. But the moment the police left, my team lead informed me, “Manager Hall wants to see you.” As I walked away, she shot me a look of pure schadenfreude. “You pissed off his precious son and you still think you can have a peaceful career here? Dream on.” I ignored her and went into the office alone. It turned out Liam was there too, glaring at me as if I were his mortal enemy. Manager Hall’s expression was just as hostile, though he was better at hiding it. He beckoned me over. “I heard about what happened today. It was Liam’s fault.” “You’ve forgiven him now, haven’t you?” I nodded. Satisfied with my answer, he smiled. Then he pointed to a massive stack of documents on the side of his desk. “Since the personal matter is resolved, let’s get back to business.” “I need you to organize all of this by the end of the day. We need it for the morning meeting tomorrow.” “I can’t finish that.” It was such an obvious attempt to screw me over that I refused without a second thought. Manager Hall didn’t bother wasting any more words. “Can’t finish it, huh?” “Then you can get out.” “Liam, take her to accounting to get her final paycheck.” He was concise, not a single wasted word. I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to get out?” “I don’t think you have the authority to say that.” “I don’t have the authority?” Manager Hall laughed as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “Go on, give it a try. See if I have the authority or not.” With that, Liam shoved me out of the office. All the things on my desk had been swept onto the floor. Chloe was dismantling my desk drawer, a triumphant look on her face. “Go on, act high and mighty! Weren’t you so good at pretending?” “Why’d you stop now?” A moment later, a notification popped up on my phone: a formal notice of termination. Since it had come to this, there was nothing left for me to hold on to. As I walked out of the company building, I immediately called my dad. “Dad, that partnership with Apex Corp? Forget it. Let’s go with Horizon Group instead.” Apex Corp, the company I’d just been fired from, was never on my dad’s initial list of potential partners. He was only considering them because I was working there. “Okay, whatever you say.” I didn’t want to worry him, so I didn’t tell him about the day’s awful events. In my mind, the matter was closed the moment I was officially fired. I didn’t want to dwell on it. So when I got home, I took a shower, curled up on the sofa with a glass of red wine, and started binge-watching a show. I was just getting to the good part when Mr. Harrison, the CEO of Apex Corp, called. His voice was cautious. “Is this Ms. Ross?” I hummed in agreement. My dad always listed me as his business contact, no matter how many times I’d protested. “This is a family business. You have to learn how to communicate with people.” Remembering my dad’s words, I straightened my voice. “This is she. Can I help you with something?” His voice was timid, almost deferential. “Ms. Ross, I was just wondering… why did you suddenly decide to pull out of the deal with Apex?” “Is there something we did wrong?” “We can change. We can do whatever you require!” I swirled the wine in my glass. “It’s not because of your company.” He was stunned. “Huh? Then… then what is it?” “It’s because from the top down, some of your people have a serious character problem.” “Your employee, Liam Hall, accused me of being kept by my own father.” 5 After saying my piece, I hung up the phone. He didn’t call back. Instead, a text message came through. “My apologies, Ms. Ross. I had no idea the problem was with one of my own staff. Please rest assured, I will give you a satisfactory resolution to this matter.” Half an hour later, another text arrived. “Ms. Ross, I believe there must be a huge misunderstanding.” “Can we meet at The Oak Room tomorrow evening to discuss this?” “Fine.” After replying, I went back to my show. But then, the company group chat, which I’d forgotten to leave, started buzzing again. “Stella’s gone?” “Whoa, Liam, you’re the man!” “No way, she’s really gone?” “Serves her right. A stuck-up bitch like that needed someone like Liam to put her in her place.” Liam, basking in the praise, was clearly feeling himself. “Honestly, I didn’t want to fire her. She was the only woman I’ve ever truly loved!” “Aww, Liam, you’re so romantic!” “I wish my husband was that devoted.” I didn’t want to see any more of their nonsense, so I simply left the group chat. The moment I did, a wave of relief washed over me. But some people just couldn’t let me be happy. Chloe suddenly sent me a picture of two hands clasped together. “Stella, are you mad?” I was baffled and sent back a question mark. “I know why you called the cops today. It’s because you were jealous.” “I’ll be honest with you, Liam and I are together now.” I stared at her messages, trying to connect the dots. “What are you even talking about?” It wasn’t that I was being difficult; I genuinely didn’t understand her logic. “I was jealous?” “We’re both women, so don’t even try to pretend. I know you called the cops to get Liam’s attention, to make him love you even more!” “But you’re too late. He’s my man now.” Her bizarre reasoning left me speechless. So that explained Chloe’s hostility toward me today. It was as absurd as it was laughable. The next morning, my boyfriend, Alex, came to pick me up. We hadn’t had a proper date since I started my new job. The moment I saw him, I threw myself into his arms. “I missed you so much.” “Alright then. First, breakfast. Then shopping, then lunch, then more shopping.” “Deal. But I have a business dinner tonight.” Alex was understanding. “Got it.” We left my apartment complex and headed straight for my favorite dumpling place. After breakfast, we hit the mall. But of all the bad luck, as I walked into a handbag boutique, I ran into Liam. He was clutching a purse, his voice incredulous as he argued with the sales associate. “You want fifteen thousand for this stupid bag?” “Are you guys broke or just insane?” The sales associate, clearly unused to such a rude customer, was flustered. “Sir, all our prices are clearly marked. If you don’t wish to purchase it, you don’t have to…” His pride wounded in public, Liam exploded. “What the hell did you just say to me?” Seeing the situation escalate, the store manager quickly called for security, who forcibly escorted Liam out. Just as they were dragging him away, his eyes met mine. He shot a venomous glare at me, then at Alex. The hatred in his gaze left me feeling uneasy, and I lost all interest in shopping for a bag. Sensing my mood had soured, Alex suggested we go look at clothes instead, and I agreed. I found a dress I liked and went into the fitting room to try it on. When I stepped out, I found Alex looking grim. “What’s wrong?” He bit his lip and held out his phone. “Do you know this person?” I looked down. It was a picture of Liam’s profile. “I know him… what’s wrong?” As the words left my mouth, all the color drained from Alex’s face. “He… he said you’re pregnant with his child.” “Is it true?”

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He was a special forces captain, my husband. A mission left him in a vegetative state, and a few days later, he was declared brain-dead. In my first life, I never gave up on him. I kept him alive on machines, only for him to push me down a flight of stairs, killing me instantly. In my second life, I saw the truth. I requested a transfer, but on my way out of town, he crashed his car into mine. As I lay dying, I asked him why. His face was a mask of disgust. “Your father is a general. He’s the reason Celeste and I were torn apart. That is your crime.” “Only when you’re dead can Celeste be with me. And I’ll still be the general’s son-in-law.” I finally understood. He never wanted me to live. This time, when I received the notice of Alex’s brain death, I looked over at the attending physician, Dr. Celeste Schnapp, standing not far away. Without a moment’s hesitation, I made my decision. “In that case, let’s get a death certificate issued immediately.” “Given Alex’s situation, applying for a Medal of Valor shouldn’t be a problem. We should invite the top brass to the funeral. It needs to be a grand affair.” If he wanted to play dead, I would make sure he was truly dead. 1 The moment the words left my mouth, Celeste’s expression changed. She rushed forward, positioning herself between me and the hospital bed. “Ma’am, please, you need to calm down.” “The patient may be brain-dead, but we can still maintain his vitals with life support.” “As doctors, we will never give up as long as there is a sliver of hope.” I looked at her sanctimonious act and laughed coldly to myself. What a convincing performance. In my first life, I fell for her nonsense. I chose to keep my husband, Alex, on life support. And what happened? Alex wasn’t dying at all. He and his first love, Celeste, had worked together. He’d taken a drug to simulate death, orchestrating an elaborate escape. The first thing he did after “waking up” was shove me down the stairs. My neck snapped on impact. I died instantly. And the murderer? A man in a vegetative state? Who would believe it? Not only did he get away with it, but he also used his “grief” to win the sympathy of my father, a high-ranking general, and climbed the ranks with ease. The memory of my father, a white-haired man mourning his only child, was a knife to my heart. Hatred boiled within me. This time, I wouldn’t give them a single chance. My voice was firm. “That won’t be necessary. My husband, Captain Alex Hayes, died in the line of duty. The evidence is conclusive.” “I need you to issue a death certificate so I can apply for his posthumous honors.” Celeste stood frozen, forcing a look of pity and disapproval onto her face. “I understand your grief, but isn’t it too rash to just give up on treatment?” “He’s still young. A miracle could happen.” “You’re his wife. Are you telling me you won’t even give him that last bit of hope?” She intentionally emphasized the word “wife,” as if to accuse me of being cold-hearted. A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “It seems this hospital needs to brush up on its basic medical knowledge.” My words made her flinch. Before she could recover, I continued, “Brain death is the irreversible cessation of all brain function, including the brainstem. It is, by legal definition, death.” “There are no medical miracles for this condition.” “As a doctor, for you to give a family false hope when a patient is clinically deceased… what is your motive?” I didn’t spare another glance for Celeste’s pale face. My voice was unwavering. “Please shut down all the equipment immediately.” “My husband was a soldier who died with honor. He deserves to leave with dignity, not be kept as a specimen in a hospital bed.” Faced with my unyielding stance and irrefutable medical facts, the hospital administration finally agreed. Celeste stood rooted to the spot, her eyes filled with panic as she watched the nurses begin to power down the machines. 2 I was quietly folding Alex’s dress uniform when the hospital room door opened softly. The General, followed by the Colonel, the Major, and several other high-ranking officers, entered with somber expressions. The General’s voice was heavy with sorrow. “Mrs. Hayes, our deepest condolences. You must take care of yourself.” “Alex was a fine soldier. The military will handle his arrangements with the utmost respect and ensure you are taken care of.” I looked up, my face tearless, my expression resolute. “Sir, as Alex’s wife, I would like to request that he be awarded the Medal of Valor. And I ask the military to organize a funeral befitting a hero.” The room fell silent. The officers exchanged surprised glances. They hadn’t expected me to be so composed, to be thinking of my husband’s honors while suppressing my own pain. Celeste immediately stepped out from the corner, her voice urgent. “Ma’am, I know you’re grieving, but determining military honors is a matter for the review board!” I knew what she was worried about. Once the “hero” status was officially declared, Alex’s death would be a matter of national record. Her and Alex’s entire plan would fall apart. I ignored her completely, my gaze meeting the officers’ with clear-eyed determination as I methodically listed Alex’s achievements that qualified him for the highest honor. The officers’ expressions shifted from surprise to gravity, and then to deep respect. “Mrs. Hayes, you are right! We were not thinking clearly!” the Colonel said, his voice firm. “This medal must be applied for!” The General nodded emphatically, his eyes filled with admiration as he looked at me. “To be this composed, to fight for your husband’s rightful honor at a time like this… Alex was a lucky man to have you.” The other officers murmured in agreement, their gazes filled with reverence. Celeste was left standing on the sidelines, utterly defeated, unable to utter another word of protest. She could only watch as the officers made the decision on the spot, setting in motion the application for the Medal of Valor and the plans for the funeral. With that settled, I turned to the General with one final request. “Sir, according to regulations, the family can take possession of a fallen soldier’s body. Now that he has been declared brain-dead, please allow me to take Alex home today.” The General agreed immediately and assigned soldiers to assist me. I took one last look at the handsome face on the hospital bed, my own expression unreadable. You want to fake your death? Then I’ll give you a state funeral. I’ll nail you and your conspiracy to a hero’s tombstone. The show was just beginning. As I expected, Alex’s parents, tipped off by Celeste, were waiting at home, ready to cause a scene. My mother-in-law was wailing, slapping her thighs. “My son! My poor, ill-fated son! Open your eyes and look!” “This heartless woman, your wife, she doesn’t want you to live! She’s trying to kill you!” My father-in-law pointed a trembling finger at me. “What have we done to deserve a cold-blooded monster like you in our family?” “The doctors said they could maintain him, and you insisted on pulling the plug!” “This is murder! You’re the one who killed my son!” In my past life, such baseless accusations would have broken my heart. But now, I felt nothing but a calm emptiness. I pulled out the official death certificate. “Mom, Dad, this is from the hospital. It’s in black and white, perfectly clear.” “You call me cold-blooded, heartless!” “Well, let me ask you this: is keeping Alex tethered to machines like an object, lying there as a shell of a man, is that what you call love?!” I pointed to the uniformed portrait of Alex on the wall. “Your son was a soldier, a hero who stood tall! He shouldn’t be lying in a hospital like a zombie, causing you pain and becoming a burden to the military.” “What you’re doing now is tainting his sacrifice. It’s an insult to his honor as a soldier!” My words struck a chord, hitting them with the full force of morality and patriotism. They were instantly silenced. My mother-in-law’s lips trembled, but all she could manage to choke out was, “Fine! Even if you’re right! We can’t just cremate him!” “I’m taking my son home! We’ll preserve him in a refrigerated casket!” “What if there’s a miracle? Maybe medical science will advance and they’ll be able to save him one day!” My father-in-law immediately chimed in. “That’s right! We’ll preserve him! We can’t just give up on our son!” I almost laughed out loud. Preserve the body? It was just another stalling tactic concocted by Celeste and Alex. In my second life, I had requested a transfer to escape Alex’s plot. But he’d still managed to hunt me down and run me off the road. As I lay dying, Alex had gloated, revealing every detail of his plan. His parents weren’t just bystanders; they were accessories. Their hysterics now were just a performance to buy Alex more time to “wake up.” Once he did, a third, carefully planned “accident” would be waiting for me. There was no more time to waste. I took a deep breath, my voice calm. “Dad, Mom, there’s no need to argue.” “Alex must be cremated immediately.” The room fell silent. His parents’ expressions soured, and they looked ready to start screaming again. I slowly pulled a handwritten letter from my bag. It was the suicide note Alex had penned during a moment of “brief consciousness” at the hospital, a calculated move to cement his image as a devoted husband. I put on a pained expression and began to read aloud. “…If my life becomes a burden, I would rather it end with dignity than become a weight upon those I love.” “…Please let me go quietly, with honor.” I folded the letter, my eyes sweeping over his parents’ instantly ashen faces. “This was Alex’s final wish.” “To cremate him immediately, to let him depart with dignity, that is true love.” “Your bickering now… are you trying to satisfy your own selfishness, or do you simply not care about what Alex wanted?” This counter-attack left them speechless. What could they say? Could they deny their own son’s last will and testament? I watched the panic in their eyes, a cold smile forming in my heart. Alex, every word you wrote to build your facade has now become a nail in your own coffin. There’s no escaping the fire this time. 3 Powerless to stop me, my in-laws agreed to the funeral. My mother-in-law, her eyes red, insisted on holding a traditional three-day wake, a clear attempt to stall for more time. I knew her game, but I agreed. Late that night, the memorial hall was quiet, the candlelight flickering. My in-laws were feigning a vigil with me. My mother-in-law took my hand, dabbing at fake tears. “My dear, you’re still so young. After Alex’s affairs are settled… you should find a good man and remarry. Your father-in-law and I will support you.” I looked at her deceitful, teary eyes and felt a wave of nausea. In my first life, after I was pushed down the stairs, they were the first to cry to the investigators that I had been so overcome with grief, I’d lost my footing and fallen by accident. And now she was encouraging me to remarry? This family was rotten to the core. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to go rest for a bit.” I pulled my hand away, unwilling to play along with this viper any longer. I turned and left the hall, but I didn’t go far. I hid just outside the doorway. Sure enough, as soon as I was gone, my mother-in-law crept over to the casket. She whispered, “Alex, my boy, you have to wake up soon! Once you’re awake, we’ll find a way to get rid of that woman. Her inheritance, her father’s connections… it will all be ours!” “That’s right! Wake up, son, we can’t delay any longer!” my father-in-law added anxiously. In the darkness, my nails dug deep into my palms. The pain kept me sharp. Any last shred of hesitation I felt about sending my husband to the crematorium vanished. You want me dead? You want my family’s fortune? Fine. I’ll send your precious son on his way right now. Exhausted from the past few days, my in-laws finally went to bed, leaving me alone in the hall. I walked to the casket and stared at Alex’s “peaceful” face, my eyes like ice. I quickly took out the vial of the death-simulating drug I had swapped from Celeste’s office. Under the pretense of adjusting his shroud, I administered a doubled dose, injecting it precisely into the side of his neck. It would delay his revival. As dawn broke, the funeral began on schedule. Military leaders and Alex’s comrades arrived. Dressed in black, my face was a mask of grief, but my composure earned everyone’s admiration. “Stay strong, Mrs. Hayes. You’re a remarkable woman,” the General said, his own eyes red as he offered his condolences. I nodded slightly, my gaze sweeping over the ashen faces of my in-laws and Celeste at the back of the crowd. “The procession may begin.” I personally draped the flag over the casket, watching as it was lifted steadily. The hearse started, and with a solemn military salute, it began its slow journey to the crematorium. 4 Sitting in the car, I couldn’t help but glance at my watch. Time was running out. I had to see Alex pushed into that furnace with my own eyes before the drug wore off. Otherwise, the gruesome deaths of my past two lives would be my fate once more. Just as the convoy was picking up speed, my in-laws darted out from the side of the road. They threw their arms out, blocking the hearse. “Stop! Stop the car!” My mother-in-law threw herself onto the hood, pounding on the windshield, tears and snot streaming down her face. “You can’t cremate him! You can’t burn my son! You venomous woman! You won’t even let us see him off on his final journey? You have no conscience!” My father-in-law, also weeping, clung to the car door. “Alex! My poor boy!” Funeral staff rushed to intervene, and the scene descended into chaos. Suddenly, I remembered the moment of my death in the second life. I was mortally wounded, slumped over the steering wheel after Alex had rammed my car. My in-laws had gotten out of his car and looked at me with nothing but the triumphant glee of a plan gone right. My mother-in-law had even said to Alex, “Hurry up. Dump this jinx’s body in the mountains for the wolves. Clean and untraceable.” The memory snapped me back to the present. I took a deep breath, pushed open the car door, and walked out, my face a mask of sorrow. “Dad, Mom, we can’t bring him back. We’re doing this grand procession out of respect for Alex, to send him off with honor.” “Behaving like this will only disturb his peace.” I took a step forward, as if to help my mother-in-law up. “Mom, we can’t delay any longer. For Alex’s dignity, and for your own health, we have to keep moving.” “Dignity?! My son is gone, what good is dignity now!” my mother-in-law shrieked, batting my hand away. Her bloodshot eyes stared daggers at me. Realizing she couldn’t stall any longer, she finally screamed, “You can’t burn him! My son isn’t dead!” “This is murder! You’re murdering your own husband!”

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1 I was the woman every socialite in New York City wanted to be, the wife of the Vance family heir. But my husband, Kim, only had eyes for the one that got away. The day she returned to the country, he served me with divorce papers. He wanted me to walk away with nothing. He threatened to bankrupt my entire family if I dared to say a single word. I signed the papers. Then I turned around and launched a livestream titled: “The Kim Vance Auction: A Fire Sale of Secrets.” [First Item for Bid: An X-rated video proving the ‘platonic friendship’ between him and his beloved Victoria.] It was snapped up for a hefty price by his rival’s company. [Second Item for Bid: Hard evidence of bribery and market manipulation.] A mysterious user from a government domain started tracking the feed. [Third Item for Bid: The true parentage of his so-called illegitimate half-brother…] The viewer count broke one hundred million. The Vance Corporation’s stock went into a nosedive. Kim and his entire family stormed my apartment, kneeling on the floor, begging me to stop. I smiled brightly for the camera. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our grand finale:” “A DNA report proving Kim Vance is not a Vance by blood. The starting bid? The entire Vance Corporation!” … Today was our third wedding anniversary. I’d spent six hours preparing his favorite meal—a five-course dinner, headlined by a duck confit that had taken me all day to perfect. The table was set with wine, candles, and roses. Everything was perfect. Except he never came home. At 10 p.m., a push notification lit up my phone. An entertainment news alert. #Victoria Lane, Award-Winning Actress, Returns to the US; Whisked Away from Airport in Mystery Limo# In the photo, I recognized the car instantly: a limited-edition Aston Martin. The license plate was Kim’s birthday. In that moment, something inside me died. At 11:30, I heard the lock turn. Kim was home. He carried the scent of an unfamiliar perfume, not one of the ones I wore. It was Black Dahlia, Victoria’s signature fragrance. He didn’t even glance at the meticulously set table. He walked straight to me and threw a file in my face. The cold edge of the paper sliced against my cheek, stinging. “Ava. We’re done.” I stared at him, at the man I had loved for three years, a lump forming in my throat. “Why?” He loosened his tie, his eyes filled with a weary annoyance. “Victoria’s back.” He said it so casually, as if he were merely commenting on the weather. I took a deep breath and gestured to the elaborate meal. “Kim, we’ve been married for three years. What did any of it mean?” He finally laughed, a sound dripping with scorn. “Don’t be pathetic, Ava.” “You were just a fixture my grandfather forced on me. A prop to keep up appearances.” “And now, I no longer require that prop.” A prop. Three years of devotion, of tenderness, of building a life—and in his eyes, I was nothing more than a piece of furniture. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. “And if I don’t agree?” He took a step closer, leaning in until his face was inches from mine. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “I suggest you be smart about this, Ava.” “You’ll walk out of here with nothing. Not a single penny.” “And if you breathe one word of this to anyone, your parents’ company will be wiped off the Manhattan map by morning.” I looked at his face, so close to mine. I had kissed those thin lips a thousand times. Now, they were spitting the most venomous threats. The last flicker of warmth in my heart went out. I picked up the pen from the table, flipped to the last page of the agreement, and calmly signed my name: Ava Sterling. My hand didn’t tremble. He seemed pleased by my compliance. He snatched the papers and turned to leave without another glance in my direction. The moment the door clicked shut, I stood up. I scraped the cold, untouched food from the table into the trash, along with three years of pathetic devotion. Then, I made a phone call. “Leo. It’s time.” Half an hour later, my study was brightly lit. I had applied my most exquisite makeup, my lips a slash of crimson. I turned on the camera and started a livestream. The title was simple: “The Kim Vance Auction: A Fire Sale of Secrets.” 2 When the stream first went live, only a few hundred people were watching. The chat was sparse, filled mostly with trolls and skeptics. Who is this? Desperate for attention much? ’Mr. Ex’? Is this some new way to clout-chase off Kim Vance? She’s pretty, but she seems completely nuts. I ignored their malicious comments. I offered the camera a perfect, gentle smile—the one that had belonged to the former Mrs. Vance. “Good evening, and welcome to the fire sale of secrets.” “My name is Ava Sterling. As of an hour ago, I am the legal ex-wife of Mr. Kim Vance. The ink on the divorce papers is barely dry.” One sentence, and the chat went silent. Then, it exploded. HOLY SHIT? EX-WIFE? Kim Vance got divorced?? Is this for real? Isn’t today their anniversary? I adjusted my position, my smile never wavering. “To celebrate my newfound freedom, and to thank my ex-husband for his… care… over the past three years, I’ve decided to host this little auction.” “Now, for our first item.” I mirrored my phone screen to the camera. “Proof of the purely platonic friendship between Mr. Vance and the beloved actress, Victoria Lane.” “The bidding starts at one million dollars.” With that, I played a ten-second clip. The scene was the presidential suite of a five-star hotel. Kim and Victoria were tangled together on a sofa, their clothes in disarray. Their breathy moans and whispers were unmistakable. While the crucial parts were heavily pixelated, their faces were in crystal-clear high definition. The livestream broke. The viewer count shot from hundreds to a hundred thousand, then to a million, and it was still climbing. The hashtag #KimVanceCheatsWithVictoriaLane rocketed to the top of the trending charts. A user with the handle “CarterThorne” began flooding the chat with high-tier gifts. Rockets, supercars—one after another, the screen was filled with flashy animations. Carter Thorne. Kim’s arch-nemesis, the heir to the Thorne Industries fortune. He typed directly in the chat: Ten million. Cut the crap and send me the video. My smile widened. “Sold.” “Mr. Thorne, thank you for your generosity.” “The video has been sent to your private messages. I hope you enjoy the show.” The words had barely left my lips when the official Thorne Industries social media account was updated. They posted a single, high-resolution screenshot from the video, taken at a particularly damning angle. It was the exact moment Kim had pinned Victoria beneath him. The caption read: “Impressive stamina, Mr. Vance. @VanceCorp” A second later, my phone began vibrating uncontrollably. Calls from Kim and Victoria were coming in one after another. I glanced at the screen, silenced my phone, and declined them all. Holding the phone up to the camera, I showed the audience the screen full of missed calls. “It seems my ex-husband is a little agitated.” A text message from Kim popped up, the rage practically radiating through the screen. Ava, are you insane?! Stop this right now! I let out a soft laugh and showed the text to the millions of people watching. “Insane?” “No.” “I’ve never been more sane in my life.” 3 The Vance Corporation’s PR team was fast. Within ten minutes, the trending hashtag had been scrubbed from the internet. It was replaced with new ones: #VideoProvenAI-Generated, #AvaSterlingSlander. An army of trolls flooded my livestream, hurling the vilest insults they could conjure. You bitch. If you can’t have him, you’ll destroy him? It’s obviously fake. AI can do anything these days. Pathetic and disgusting, doing anything for money. Victoria Lane’s fanbase was even more ferocious, a rabid swarm determined to shut me down. I watched the stream of filth scroll by, not with anger, but with amusement. “It seems Mr. Vance doesn’t think this is stimulating enough.” “Very well. Let’s move on to the second item up for auction.” I held a list of documents up to the camera. “A selection of the Vance Corporation’s most sensitive trade secrets from recent years.” “Including, but not limited to, records of a thirty-million-dollar bribe paid to a certain Deputy Commissioner.” “An audio recording of bid-rigging for the Hudson Yards redevelopment project.” “And a complete evidence package detailing the illegal manipulation of Sterling Tech stock.” “I’m selling it as a bundle. The bidding starts at fifty million dollars.” The moment I finished speaking, the entire livestream fell into a dead, ten-second silence. If the first item was a tabloid scandal, the second was a collection of federal crimes that could send the entire Vance family to prison. The viewer count instantly shot past fifty million. The chat was no longer filled with insults, but with a tidal wave of shock and question marks. ?????? DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT? Is this woman crazy or does she actually have the goods? If this is real, the Vance family is finished. I didn’t give them much time to process it. I played a short audio clip. It was the voice of my father-in-law, Marcus Vance, the chairman of the Vance Corporation. “Don’t worry about the land, Commissioner. Once the deal is done, you’ll be well taken care of. Thirty million, wired directly to your son’s offshore account to start.” The voice on the recording was crisp and clear. And it belonged to a public official famous for his anti-corruption stance. The livestream went completely wild. Just then, a user with the ID “FedWatcher22” entered the chat. They didn’t send any gifts. They simply typed one line in the public comments. We are monitoring this situation. I understood immediately. This was the SEC, or the FBI, or someone of that nature. They were watching. I looked at the camera and gave a knowing smile. “Since a mysterious friend is so interested in this particular item…” “I’ve decided… it’s no longer for sale.” “I’m giving it away. For free. To the people who need it most.” As millions watched, I opened the official SEC whistleblower portal on my screen. I clicked “Submit a Tip.” And then, every recording, every document, every wire transfer record in my possession… I compiled them into an encrypted file and hit UPLOAD. The progress bar jumped from 1% to 100%. Submission successful. Only after all of that was done did I pick up my phone, which was buzzing so hard it was about to vibrate off the table. It was Kim. I answered and put him on speaker. His voice, twisted with terror, shrieked through the phone. “Ava! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” “You’re destroying my family!” I spoke softly, both to the phone and to the millions of people in my audience. “Patience, Kim.” “We’re just getting started.” 4 The next morning, the financial news cycle exploded. #Vance Corp Under Federal Investigation for Major Financial Crimes# #Vance Corp Stock Plummets at Opening Bell, Billions in Market Cap Vanish# #Deputy Commissioner Taken into Custody for Questioning# Each headline was a dagger, plunging directly into the heart of the Vance dynasty. My phone was ringing off the hook. This time it was my ex-mother-in-law, Kim’s mother, Eleanor. I answered, speakerphone on as always. Her hysterical curses poured through the receiver. “Ava! You venomous bitch! You evil witch!” “What did our family ever do to you to deserve this?! How could you try to ruin us?!” “You’ll rot in hell! Your whole family will rot in hell!” I listened quietly, letting the millions in my audience listen with me. I waited until she had screamed herself hoarse, her voice cracking. Only then did I speak. “Are you finished?” “Because if you are, I’m hanging up.” Before she could respond, I ended the call. Then, I turned to the camera and posted a new teaser. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience.” “Our third item for auction will be a shocking secret… one that goes to the very heart of the Vance bloodline.” “Tonight at 8 p.m. sharp. Don’t be late.” The announcement sent the entire internet into a frenzy of anticipation. Just then, my screen went black. The feed was cut. Almost simultaneously, a message came through from Leo. “Kim hired elite hackers to attack the servers. Minor issue. I’ll have it fixed in three minutes.” “Okay,” I replied. In that short, three-minute window, Kim seized his opportunity. He published a long, rambling post on his personal social media. In it, he waxed poetic about his and Victoria’s star-crossed teenage romance. Every word was soaked in regret and deep, abiding love. Then, he turned on me. He accused me of using underhanded tactics to drive Victoria away all those years ago. He claimed I used my family’s influence to blackmail his grandfather into forcing the marriage. He painted me as a greedy, possessive, controlling wife who had suffocated him. Finally, he alleged that during the divorce, I had demanded an outrageous settlement. When he refused, my love turned to hate, sparking this insane revenge campaign. “Ava, I know you still love me,” he wrote at the end. “But this is not the way. You’re only pushing us further apart.” Less than a minute later, Victoria shared his post. She added a comment: “Kim, don’t be afraid. I’m here with you through this. No matter what happens, I’ll be by your side.” In an instant, the public narrative flipped. Countless people, blind to the facts, were moved by their tragic love story. I was now the villain: the evil, jealous, gold-digging madwoman who had torn true lovers apart. When my livestream came back online, the chat was an impassable wall of hate. Get off the internet, you psycho! So she was a manipulative bitch all along. No wonder Kim divorced her! Team Kim and Victoria forever! True love wins! I looked at the surge of insults, not with anger, but with a cold smile. “It seems my ex-husband is quite skilled at twisting the truth.” “In that case, let’s show everyone who the truly filthy one is.” I projected an image onto the screen. It was the birth certificate of the Vances’ beloved illegitimate son, Kim’s younger half-brother, Noah. I zoomed in, focusing on the name listed under “Father.” Then, I read it out, syllable by syllable. “Mar-cus. Vance.” My father-in-law’s name. The internet was stunned. It was no secret the Vance family had an illegitimate child, but no one knew it was the chairman’s. Then, I slowly panned the camera up, moving to the line for “Mother.” The name was blurred out by a thick layer of pixels. I gave the camera a mysterious smile. “As for the mother…” “Let’s play a game. Do you think it might be the pure, innocent actress who has suffered so deeply for love?”

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1 My son has a sense of justice so sharp, it could cut you. When Mrs. Gable, our neighbor, dropped a curse word in the neighborhood Facebook group, my son reported her to her employer the next day. She lost the commendation for excellence she was up for. When a kid from the third floor tossed a paper airplane out his window, my son delivered him to the police station three days later, complete with security footage. The boy’s parents were fined, and he got a stern lecture. I tried to rein him in, my anger simmering just beneath the surface, but he’d just jut out his chin and argue back. “Mom, the rules are absolute. Justice doesn’t take a day off.” “Even if you were the one breaking the rules,” he’d say, “I would choose justice over family.” His words became reality when I brought home some pastries from work that were about to expire. My son created a 65-slide presentation, sent it to my boss, and got me suspended. As he was dialing 911, he tried to comfort me. “Mom, you just need to do your time and learn the rules. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.” It was then I finally understood. My son was passing his “righteous” judgment on every “sinner” he saw, anyone who failed to meet his standards. But what he didn’t know was that I had found him abandoned under a bridge. And I never filed a single piece of legal paperwork to make him mine. … The police car arrived while I was still sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the suspension notice. The flashing red and blue lights pulsed through the window, painting my face in shifting, silent strobes. Ethan opened the door. He stood ramrod straight, like a soldier at attention. “Officers, that’s her. She embezzled company property.” He pointed at me, his voice clear and unwavering. I looked at him, this boy I had raised for eighteen years. His eyes glittered with a light that was almost fanatical. It was the fire of “justice.” Two officers stepped inside, their expressions a little strained. “Ma’am, Lynn Miller? You’ll have to come with us.” Ethan followed them, adding more details. “Officers, here’s the evidence I’ve compiled. It includes security footage of her taking the pastries, the company policy against taking expired food, and a recording of her admitting to it.” He handed them a flash drive, his presentation neat and orderly. I was taken away. As I walked out of our home, neighbors peeked out from their doors, pointing and whispering. Their murmurs felt like needles pricking my back. “Look, that’s her. The one whose son turned her in.” “I heard she stole from her company. What a disgrace.” I kept my head down and got into the police car. I was at the station for three hours. Finally, my boss called the police and explained it was all a misunderstanding. The pastries were about to be thrown out anyway, and the company had intended to give them to employees as a small perk. They wouldn’t press charges, choosing to handle it internally. They let me go. The night air was cold as I stepped out of the police station. I called my boss to apologize. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, he said, “Lynn, just… take some time off. We’ll be in touch.” I understood. It was a gentle way of firing me. I dragged my exhausted body home. The door was unlocked. When I pushed it open, the acrid smell of disinfectant hit me like a wall. In the living room, all of my things—the throw pillows, my favorite teacup, a few magazines I was reading—were piled into a large black trash bag by the door. Ethan was wearing rubber gloves, meticulously wiping down the handle of my bedroom door. “You’re back,” he said calmly. “I disinfected the house. I’ve disposed of anything that didn’t meet sanitation standards.” I rushed over and tore open the trash bag. Inside was the mug I’d used for ten years, a souvenir I’d bought him on a business trip, and an old photo album my mother had left me. “Ethan!” I screamed his name for the first time. “What gives you the right to throw away my things?” He pulled off his gloves, his brow furrowed. “Mom, these items were either breeding grounds for germs or useless clutter. According to Article Four of the Household Management Bylaws, they should have been cleared out long ago.” “What damn bylaws?” I was trembling with rage. “I wrote them myself,” he said, picking up a stack of printed papers from the table. “To make our home more orderly and efficient.” “You violated Article Seventeen: arbitrary accumulation of clutter.” I stared at his face, flushed with righteous excitement, and the world began to spin. I hadn’t raised a son. I had created a cold, unfeeling machine that only executed rules. 2 The next day, I went to the bank to withdraw some cash, planning to get away for a few days to clear my head. The teller informed me that my account had been frozen. I just stood there, my mind a complete blank. “Why?” “Ma’am, we received a notice from the IRS to freeze the account. They said you’re under investigation for potential tax evasion.” The IRS. A roar filled my ears, and I immediately knew it was Ethan. I have a small hobby. I make and sell handmade jewelry online. It never made much money, just a little something on the side. I’d never even thought about reporting it for taxes. The notebook where I kept my accounts was in my bedside table drawer. I ran home like a madwoman. Ethan was in the living room, reading a book titled Foundations of Law. The sunlight fell on him, making him look so clean, so pure. I stormed up to him, my voice shaking. “My bank account. Was this you?” He looked up and adjusted his glasses. “Mom, paying taxes is the civic duty of every citizen.” “Last July, your online store had a special edition piece that sold very well. Your income for that month exceeded the five-hundred-dollar threshold for exemption.” “You were supposed to declare and pay eight dollars and fifty cents in income tax for that month. But you didn’t.” “I simply reported this fact to the IRS. It’s up to them to decide.” “For eight-fifty?” I was practically shrieking. “You reported me for eight dollars and fifty cents?!” “It’s not about the amount.” He closed his book, his gaze as calm as still water. “It’s about the principle. You broke a rule. Even for a penny, it’s still a stain on your record.” His tone was so casual, as if he were discussing what to have for dinner. “Do you have any idea what that money means to me!” I screamed. “It’s how we live! It’s your college tuition!” “Then you should have made sure to earn it legally.” He was completely unfazed. “Mom, don’t let money warp your sense of right and wrong.” I stared at him, my heart clenching with a pain so sharp it took my breath away. Just then, my phone rang. It was my brother, David. The moment I answered, his furious roar erupted from the speaker. “Lynn! What the hell have you been teaching that kid?” “That little bastard, he reported me!” My brother’s daughter, my niece, had a sudden, violent stomach flu in the middle of the night. In a panic, David had gotten verbal permission from his boss to use a company car to rush her to the emergency room. “It was a one-time thing! An emergency! My boss even approved it and said we could sort out the paperwork later!” David yelled. “He took pictures. Didn’t even say a word to me. He just sent a report straight to the ethics committee, accusing me of misusing company property and embezzling state assets!” “I’m suspended pending an investigation! Are you happy now?” I clutched the phone, my hands and feet turning to ice. “David, I’m so sorry, I…” “Don’t you dare say sorry to me! You need to control that son of yours who’d turn on his own family!” He slammed the phone down. I looked at Ethan. There wasn’t a flicker of guilt on his face. “Uncle David did something wrong. He should face the consequences.” “That’s your uncle!” “Before the law,” he said, “there are no relatives.” He finished speaking, looked down, and went back to his book, as if we had been discussing a news story about strangers. My entire world was being systematically dismantled by him, one of his so-called “rules” at a time. 3 The story spread like wildfire. I became a neighborhood celebrity: the foolish woman who got caught stealing from her company and raised a son with no loyalty to anyone. Neighbors who used to greet me warmly now crossed the street to avoid me, their eyes filled with contempt and a cruel sort of pity. My online shop for handmade jewelry was permanently shut down by the platform for “suspected regulatory violations.” My only source of income was gone. I locked myself in my room, too afraid to go outside. I tried to reason with Ethan. I pulled out our old photo albums, pointing to our smiling faces. “Ethan, remember this? This was our trip to the ocean. It was the first time you saw it, you were so happy you couldn’t stop jumping.” “Look at this one. You had a high fever, and I carried you on my back for three blocks to get to the hospital. You hugged my neck and told me I was your superhero.” I thought these warm memories might awaken some sliver of affection in him. But he just pushed the album away, his expression cold. “Mom, don’t use emotional appeals to distract from the issue.” “We are discussing the mistakes you’ve made, not the past.” “Appealing to emotion is the lowest form of debate tactic.” His words were a razor-sharp knife, severing my last thread of hope. He even taped a “Code of Conduct for Household Members” to our front door. It listed dozens of rules. Absolute silence must be maintained after 10:00 PM. All trash must be sorted and taken out by 8:00 PM daily. Consumption of snacks in the living room is forbidden outside of mealtimes. Beneath each rule was a corresponding demerit system. Under my name, there was already a long list of violations. November 12th: Failed to take out the trash on time. -2 points. November 13th: Ate an apple while watching television in the living room. -5 points. November 14th: Shower exceeded 15 minutes, wasting water resources. -3 points. Looking at that piece of paper, I didn’t feel like I was living in a home. I felt like I was living in a prison managed by my own son. And I was the only inmate. I started having insomnia, lying awake night after night. When I closed my eyes, all I could see were the scornful looks from my neighbors, my brother’s furious shouting, and Ethan’s perpetually “correct,” ice-cold eyes. I lost weight rapidly. Within two weeks, I was a ghost of my former self. One night, I got up for a drink of water and saw a crack of light under Ethan’s door. He was awake, staring at his computer. On the screen was his 65-slide presentation. He was still perfecting it. Under the section titled “Evidence of the Mother’s Transgressions,” he had added a new entry. “Subject exhibits poor moral character, has engaged in tax evasion, and attempts to use emotional attachment as a shield to evade responsibility.” In that moment, my heart simply died. 4 The final straw was the official notice from the IRS. It came by registered mail, stark black and white. Because I had “failed to file in a timely manner” and did not address the initial notice, I owed $8.50 in back taxes. However, the associated late fees and administrative penalties totaled one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The most absurd part? Ethan had hidden the initial notice from me. He believed it was my responsibility to discover the problem on my own. If I couldn’t pay the full amount by the deadline, I would face asset seizure and a permanent mark on my credit record. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I held the letter, my hands shaking uncontrollably. For eight dollars and fifty cents, my son had single-handedly ruined my life. I had no job, no savings, and no way out. Despair washed over me like a tidal wave. The only option left was to sell the house we lived in. It was my only asset, the last thing my parents had left me. With red-rimmed eyes, I listed the house online. A realtor called almost immediately, wanting to bring a client by the very next day. I agreed. I had to survive. That evening, Ethan came home from his classes and saw the realtor’s business card I’d left on the coffee table. He picked it up, and his face instantly changed. “You’re selling the house?” “Yes.” My voice was a dry rasp. “Why?” “Because I need the money to pay the fines you so kindly arranged for me.” I enunciated every word. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “No!” he snapped. “This is our home! How could you sell our home just to run away from your mistakes?” “Run away?” I laughed, a sound more painful than a sob. “Ethan, I’m cleaning up the mess you made!” “I made no mistake!” he shouted, his eyes blazing with a terrifying stubbornness. “You were the one who broke the rules! You were the one who broke the law!” “Selling the house now would throw our lives into complete chaos! It’s the most irresponsible thing you could do!” He lunged for the phone in my hand, trying to delete the listing I’d posted. I clutched it tightly. “Ethan, let go of me!” “No! I won’t let you destroy this family!” He was strong, and I was no match for him. He wrenched the phone from my grasp. He raised it high, ready to smash it to the ground. I looked at his crazed expression, his face twisted in defense of his ridiculous set of rules. And suddenly, I stopped fighting. I just looked at him, a strange, calm smile spreading across my lips. “Ethan.” My voice was quiet, but it froze him in place, his arm still raised. “You love rules so much. You love what’s ‘legal’.” “So let’s talk about the single biggest illegality in this house. Shall we?” He froze, staring at me in confusion. I slowly pulled myself up, walked right up to him, and looked directly into his eyes. Those eyes, once so clear and bright, were now filled with nothing but cold, rigid fanaticism. “Are you curious, Ethan?” “About how, eighteen years ago, an abandoned baby with no birth certificate and no parents, found under a bridge…” “…’legally’ got a social security number, a home, and a mother?”

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The moment my stepdaughter threw a cup of hot water in my face, I had a shocking realization: I was the cannon fodder stepmom in a trashy novel. My stepdaughter was the “evil heroine,” a ruthless narcissist who climbed to the top by stepping on everyone else. As her stepmother, I was an eyesore. The baby in my belly was an obstacle. And so, I was destined to become just another casualty in her story. I wiped the water from my face, my eyes fixed on the text scrolling across my vision, like comments on a live stream. 【YES! This stepmom is so fake. She pretends to be nice to the main character but is already planning to have her own kid.】 【I hate these types, playing the innocent white lotus. Can’t wait for our girl to slap her into next week!】 【She’s about to announce she’s pregnant. You think our queen is gonna stand for that? LOL no.】 The words hit me like a physical blow. I took a sharp breath and quickly shoved the pregnancy report deeper into my pocket. Turning to my husband, another piece of cannon fodder in this twisted story, I forced a small smile. “Arthur, honey, there’s something I need to talk to you about after dinner.” 1 My stepdaughter, Miranda, propped her chin on her hand and sneered. “Your voice is ruining my appetite.” She lowered her hand, her fingers inching toward the soup tureen. It looked like she was getting ready to douse me again. The comments flew across my vision. 【This stepmom talks way too much. That’s our queen’s dad, and she keeps calling him ‘honey’ right in front of her. So gross.】 【Do it again! Throw the soup! This is the content I live for!】 I blinked, confirming that the text wasn’t a hallucination. I immediately lurched to the side, dodging the scalding chicken soup Miranda slung at me. It splattered everywhere, coating the beautiful dinner I’d spent three hours preparing in a greasy film, making it completely inedible. I couldn’t even care about the ruined food. The spot on my face where the hot water had hit was starting to burn with a dull, throbbing pain. I rushed to the kitchen and splashed my face with cold water again and again until the stinging subsided. Just moments ago, all I had done was take a piece of the tender fish belly, and Miranda had retaliated by throwing her glass of water at my head. Thank God it wasn’t boiling, or my face would have been ruined. Miranda watched me with cold, dismissive eyes. “Seriously? The water wasn’t even that hot. Stop being so dramatic.” Arthur finally put down his chopsticks, his expression darkening. “Miranda, that’s enough. You need to show some restraint.” The comments immediately shifted to him. 【What a scumbag dad. First, he marries a new wife, and now he wants a new kid? Where does that leave our girl?】 【Guess she’ll have to tolerate him for a little while longer… for the inheritance, of course.】 In my eyes, Arthur had always seemed like a decent father. Miranda’s mother had died in a car accident shortly after she was born, and he had remained single for fifteen years before marrying me. He chose me, I think, because I came from a small town with no connections, no power to challenge his precious daughter. But Miranda didn’t give him an ounce of respect. She scoffed. “Restraint? I have none. What are you going to do about it?” “This is my house,” she spat, “and I’ll kick out anyone I don’t like. If you have a problem with it, you can get out with her!” More comments appeared. 【That’s our queen! A total savage. If you get in her way, she’ll send you to your grave!】 Send me to my grave? My hands clenched into fists. Having also lost my mother, I had always felt a sense of pity for Miranda. When she refused to let me move into the master bedroom, I took the guest room on the first floor. When she didn’t want our marriage to be publicly announced, I agreed to cancel the wedding. I even made sure to buy her favorite fruits. I had hoped that once she was past her volatile teenage years, we could find a way to live in peace. But now, I saw that was just a foolish fantasy. It wasn’t just me Miranda couldn’t tolerate. It was my baby, too. With that thought, I discreetly pulled the pregnancy report from my pocket and held it under the running faucet. I let the water wash away the ink until the paper disintegrated into a pulpy mess. “Hey, you. Are you done with your little drama yet?” Miranda stood up and sauntered toward me. “Stop playing the victim. I can’t stand it.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you just came from the hospital, didn’t you? Are you pregnant?” At her words, Arthur’s head snapped up, his eyes fixed on me. A flicker of something crossed his face, but he remained seated, watching as his daughter advanced on me. Miranda casually picked up a kitchen knife, running her finger lightly along the blade. She smiled. “I can smell the antiseptic on you. What did the doctor say?” The comments exploded with excitement. 【Go, Queen! Stab the cannon fodder stepmom and that little parasite in her belly right now!】 【So smart and so ruthless. This is the evil heroine I signed up for!】 A chill traced its way down my spine. A mother’s instinct took over, and I forced myself to stay calm. I frowned slightly and sighed. “No, I’m not.” Miranda eyed me with suspicion. I lowered my head, my voice cracking. “The doctor said… my health isn’t good. It will be very difficult for me to conceive.” “Miranda,” I whispered, “it looks like you might be the only daughter I’ll ever have.” Her expression soured, and she tossed the knife back onto the counter with a clatter. “Who’s your daughter? Don’t get any ideas.” She turned and stalked out, clearly annoyed to be in the same room with me. But as she left, she threw an order over her shoulder. “I want to wear the coat my mother left me tomorrow. Have it pressed for me tonight.” “And for Dad’s tie, choose the one with the thin stripes, not the one you bought him.” There it was again. In the year since I had married into the Prescott family, she constantly used these little commands to assert her dominance. I usually let it slide, not wanting to argue with a teenager. But this time, I shook my head. “I’m a little tired today. Why don’t you ask the housekeeper to help you?” She stopped in her tracks and turned, her voice cold. “Is that so?” Arthur suddenly interjected. “Clara, you should do it. The housekeeper is too clumsy.” I looked at him, and in his eyes, I saw a flicker of disappointment. Was he disappointed that I wasn’t pregnant, or disappointed that I wasn’t endlessly catering to his daughter? Not wanting to argue in front of Miranda, I simply nodded. “Fine.” A triumphant smirk touched Miranda’s lips as she swept out of the house. The moment the door closed, I hurried to Arthur’s side. “Honey,” I said, stopping him as he put on his coat to follow Miranda out for a shopping trip. “Can we please talk?” “Clara, I know Miranda shouldn’t have thrown water at you,” he said, “but you’re the adult. You should be more patient with her. Don’t be so sensitive.” He seemed to feel a little guilty, patting my shoulder. “And don’t be too sad about the baby thing. If it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be.” “We’ll focus on raising Miranda. One child is enough, right?” I froze. The poorly concealed relief in his voice hit me like a physical blow. We had agreed to have another child after we married. Now, it seemed like our baby was completely disposable to him. I didn’t give up. I had to try. “I wanted to ask… could I go with you to the overseas branch for a while?” Just a year. It would be enough time for me to get away from Miranda and have this baby safely. Arthur laughed as if I’d told a joke. “I’m going there to expand the market, Clara, not on vacation.” “You need to stay here and take care of the house. If you come with me, who’s going to look after Miranda?” I said nothing, focusing on the comments that were now scrolling in front of my eyes. 【Phew, thank god. The scumbag dad has at least half a brain. He knows our girl is the most important.】 【Miranda’s probably watching this on the cameras. She’ll be so pleased.】 【Can’t wait for the day our queen is done using him and tosses him aside. Maybe she’ll grant him a clean death.】 【But why did the stepmom’s plot change? When is the main character going to find out she’s pregnant? I need to see her deal with this white lotus!】 The comments sent a fresh wave of fear through me. Just because I was a stepmother, did that mean I deserved to die at Miranda’s hands? What could I do to protect myself and my child? My gaze shifted back to Arthur. I had once been drawn to his gentle, refined nature. Even knowing he was older and had a daughter, I couldn’t help but fall for him. Now, his face was etched with impatience. “Miranda is waiting for me outside. I have to go.” And this was our first wedding anniversary. Dinner was ruined, and now the anniversary was, too. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Arthur, maybe we should separate.” He frowned, the look in his eyes changing. “Clara, are you seriously picking a fight over a disagreement with a child? Is it really necessary?” “Stop this nonsense. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” He didn’t want to waste another second on me. He turned and walked away. The door shut, leaving me alone in the vast, empty house. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I immediately began searching for the cameras the comments had mentioned. There was a pinhole camera hidden in the leaves of a potted plant, another tucked beside the television, and even a listening device taped under the dining table. In that moment, I understood the true extent of Miranda’s danger. I hired a professional security team and had them sweep the entire house. When they found a camera hidden behind the bathroom mirror, one of them whistled. “What is this, are you guys filming a spy movie?” My face went pale. The thought that Miranda had been watching me, even when I was showering, for the past year was so repulsive I almost threw up. In total, they found sixteen pinhole cameras and seven listening devices throughout the Prescott mansion. When Arthur and Miranda returned, I was sitting in the living room, waiting for them. His parents, my in-laws, were with them. I knew then that Miranda had discovered I’d removed the cameras. I got straight to the point. “There was only one room in this house that wasn’t bugged, Miranda. Care to explain?” “This is a violation of my privacy! It’s a crime!” Miranda just snorted, crossing her arms. “So what? I’m a minor. Go on, call the police. See if they even care.” My mother-in-law glanced at the pile of surveillance equipment on the table, then sat down on the sofa without a care in the world. “What’s with that look on your face? You really are from a small town, aren’t you?” My father-in-law sneered. “People with no breeding are so easily scandalized.” I wasn’t surprised they were protecting her. I looked at Arthur. His was the only opinion that mattered to me. He turned his head away, refusing to meet my eyes. “Miranda explained it to me. She did it because she feels insecure.” “Besides,” he mumbled, “it’s not like she actually did anything to you. Let’s just drop it.” I let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh, my last shred of hope for him gone. “Arthur, I’m serious. I want a divorce.” Miranda immediately scoffed. “A divorce? You’re just after the money, aren’t you?” I didn’t deny it. If I were alone, I would have walked away with nothing. But I had a child to think of, a child who would need financial support. I would fight for what was rightfully mine. My mother-in-law glared at me. “Who do you think you’re threatening? Do you really believe our Arthur can’t live without you?” Arthur stared at me for a long time before speaking, his voice heavy. “Think this through, Clara. Who really stands to lose in a divorce?” I gave him a calm smile. “Oh, I’ve thought it through very clearly.” Miranda was a ticking time bomb. I could either strike first, or get as far away from her as possible. Since I didn’t want to become a criminal myself, divorce was my only option. It was late. I was too tired to argue with them anymore, so I went to my room. The next morning, I had an appointment with my lawyer. As I opened the front door to leave, a plastic bag filled with water fell from above, drenching me. Before I could even process what happened, I felt something cold and slimy slither down my collar. The sensation sent a jolt through my body, and I froze, a violent shiver racking my frame. Miranda was standing a short distance away, a gleeful smile on her face as she watched me frantically pull at my shirt. My panic only made her laugh harder. A goldfish flopped onto the ground at my feet. Its tail gave a few weak flicks before it went still, its gills ceasing their motion. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I turned my head and retched. Miranda’s smile vanished. “You… you’re pregnant, aren’t you?!” I wanted to deny it, but my body betrayed me. I ran to the nearest bathroom, bile rising in my throat. I knelt before the toilet, heaving until tears streamed from my eyes. The rest of the family heard the commotion and came to investigate. My mother-in-law, who usually did nothing but glare at me, actually had a smile on her face. “That reaction… she must be pregnant.” Arthur frowned. “But Clara just came back from the hospital yesterday and said she wasn’t.” His mother grabbed his arm. “Take her again! There’s no mistaking that kind of morning sickness!” Even my father-in-law’s tone was unusually gentle. “If she really is pregnant, then this divorce is out of the question.” “The Prescott family needs more heirs. This child is coming at the perfect time.” In stark contrast to their joy, Miranda’s lips were pressed into a thin, cold line. The look she gave me was filled with enough hatred to flay me alive. I sat weakly on the floor, my mind a chaotic mess. The comments reappeared. 【This stepmom’s plot is so weird now. How did she find the cameras? And she dared to ask for a divorce? Her character is totally broken!】 【Finally! The main character knows she’s pregnant. It’s time to get rid of her!】 I wouldn’t let that happen. Why should I, a living, breathing person with feelings and a future, be nothing more than cannon fodder for Miranda’s story? On the way to the hospital, I thought hard. Finally, I took out my phone and sent a message to my lawyer. I told him to pause the divorce papers and draft something else entirely. The hospital confirmed it quickly. My in-laws held the report, their faces beaming. They pulled Arthur aside. “Arthur, you can’t get divorced now. You need to talk to Clara, smooth things over.” “If you have to, just give her some more money.” Arthur looked at me, his eyes filled with an emotion too complex for me to read. “Clara, why did you hide the pregnancy from me?” I deliberately lowered my voice. “I was scared.” He was speechless for a few seconds before he finally managed to say, “Miranda is just a child. She didn’t mean any harm.” From the comments, I already knew his fate. He was cannon fodder, just like me. You can’t wake someone who’s pretending to be asleep. I decided to respect his choice. When we left the hospital, I didn’t get into the family car. I walked straight to a waiting taxi. Arthur blocked my path. “What are you doing now?” A heated debate erupted in the comments before my eyes. 【YES! The cannon fodder stepmom is finally going to die! Smeared all over the road! So satisfying!】 【But… the stepmom hasn’t really done anything bad. She cooked and cleaned for the main character. Isn’t this a little too cruel?】 【If you have a bleeding heart, why are you reading an evil heroine novel? Get lost! The main character is supposed to get everything she wants. Who cares if a few side characters die?】 I smiled. “If I told you that Miranda tampered with that car, would you believe me?” Arthur’s face hardened. “That’s enough, Clara. Why are you so determined to pick a fight with a child?” “I thought you genuinely cared about Miranda, but now I see…” I tuned him out and shut the taxi door. On the way home, I deliberately had the driver take a longer route. When I walked through the front door, my in-laws were excitedly telling Miranda about the baby. The moment she saw me, her eyes widened in disbelief. “You… How…? Then who was in that car?!”

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Ten years into my marriage, I found a paternity test on my husband’s computer that I never knew existed. It stated, in stark black and white, that the son I had raised for a decade was not biologically mine. But I raised him. He grew up in my arms. So where was my real child? “Honey, what are you still doing in the study so late?” His voice startled me. I quickly closed the document, but not before he saw it. His face darkened. “So, this is how little you trust me!” I reopened the paternity test report and demanded to know what it meant. Instead of answering, he slammed the laptop shut and turned on me, accusing me of violating his privacy. Watching him walk away, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. After ten years of marriage, this was who he had become. Calmly, I opened a drawer and tore the tenth-anniversary gift I had prepared for him to shreds. … I pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside was a share transfer agreement, already signed by me. I had planned to give him 15% of the company’s shares on our anniversary tomorrow. But now, that seemed entirely unnecessary. I took the agreement and ripped it into tiny pieces. The scraps of paper fell into the trash, mixing with the wrapping paper I’d chosen for his gifts. Looking at them now, the joy I’d felt while preparing them was gone, replaced by a wave of nausea. When I returned to the bedroom, Mark was already in bed, acting as if nothing had happened. I stood in the doorway for a long time, watching the back of his sleeping form, then turned and went to the guest room. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, Mark’s angry voice woke me. He was standing in the doorway of the guest room, his face a mask of fury. “Elara, what is the meaning of this? Why are you sleeping in here?” I sat up and looked at him. I had looked at this face for ten years, but now it felt completely alien. “I need some space.” He opened his mouth to argue, then just shook his head. “Fine. Whatever you want.” After Mark left for work, I made breakfast as usual. My son, Leo, sat at the table, drinking his milk. “Mom, you don’t look so good.” I stroked his hair. It was soft and slightly curly, just like Mark’s. For years, everyone had said how much they looked alike. “Mommy just didn’t sleep well. Hurry up and eat, or you’ll be late for school.” On the way to drop Leo off, my mind was a million miles away. At a red light, I turned around, pretending to fix his collar, and plucked a single hair from the back of his head. “You have a gray hair, sweetie. Let Mommy get it for you.” I tucked the hair into the small notebook I carried with me. After watching Leo walk into the school, I drove straight to a DNA testing center. “I need this rushed. What’s the fastest you can get the results?” “Standard is five business days. Rushed is by 4 PM today, but it’s triple the price.” “I’ll take the rush.” My hand trembled as I handed over the sample. After they took a swab from my cheek, I sat in the waiting area, watching the clock on the wall tick by, second by agonizing second. While I waited, I called a private investigator. “I want you to look into my husband, Mark Turner. Specifically, his movements over the past few months.” At 3:40 PM, my phone rang. The results were in. I opened the digital report and scrolled straight to the bottom. “Based on DNA analysis, the probability of a parental relationship between Elara Vance and Leo Turner is 0.0001%.” “Genetic marker analysis does not support Elara Vance as the biological mother of Leo Turner.” Even though I had been preparing myself, the words still made me gasp. I leaned against the wall for support. Not my son. I had raised a child that wasn’t mine for nine years. So where was my baby? I immediately drove to the hospital where I had given birth. I found the obstetrician who had delivered my baby. She was the head of the department now. I got straight to the point. “Dr. Evans, I need to see my delivery records and hospital file from nine years ago.” Her smile faltered for a second. “It’s been a long time. The files have probably been archived.” After some effort, someone from the records room finally brought out a folder. I opened it and found the records were shockingly brief. Just the admission and discharge dates, the delivery method, and the newborn’s weight. There were no detailed notes on the delivery, no nurse hand-off records, no report from the pediatrician. “Is this all there is?” “That’s all we have in the system,” she said apologetically. “Paper records for maternity cases are typically kept for ten years. Yours is almost at its expiration.” “What about the newborn’s footprints? The blood test records?” She shook her head. “Those would be in the newborn’s file, but we couldn’t find it.” It was obvious. Something was very wrong here. An overly simplified medical record, a missing newborn file, and a son who looked just like my husband but wasn’t mine. My phone rang. It was Mark. “Where are you? I’ve already picked up Leo.” I had completely forgotten it was past school dismissal time. Thankfully, I had informed the teacher I might be late. “I’m running some errands. I’ll be home soon.” I hung up. After dinner, I claimed to have a headache and went to my room early. Mark was in the living room, helping Leo with his homework. I could faintly hear their voices. “Dad, is Mom upset?” “She’s just tired. Finish your homework and get to bed early.” Once they were both asleep, I began to quietly search the house. The master bedroom, the living room, Leo’s room—I looked everywhere. I found nothing. Finally, my eyes fell on the computer in the study. The truth had to be in there. Just as I was about to open the file, I heard footsteps outside the door. I quickly closed the document. When Mark came in, I was tidying the desk. He glanced at the computer screen, which was back to the desktop wallpaper—a photo of the three of us at the beach from three years ago. “Still awake?” “Just organizing some old files.” As I spoke, I turned off the monitor. He stood there for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just nodded. “Get some rest.” I sat in the dark, listening to his footsteps fade away. I didn’t turn the computer back on that night. My thoughts were a tangled mess. The next morning, I let Mark take Leo to school. He gave me a long look but took the car keys. “Okay.” The moment they were gone, I went to the study. I turned on the computer and typed in the password: our wedding anniversary. Incorrect. I tried his birthday. Incorrect. Our son’s birthday. Still incorrect. I tried the date we first met, his mother’s birthday, the day the company was founded. None of them worked. The system locked me out for fifteen minutes. I sat there, staring at the login screen. The computer we had bought together was now locked against me. That evening, Mark came home from work and said, as he was taking off his jacket, “I have a business trip to Hong Kong tomorrow. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.” I brought a dish out from the kitchen. “So sudden. Who are you going with?” He put his briefcase on the table and turned to me. “It was a last-minute arrangement. Elara, can you just stop?” I looked at him silently, confused by his overreaction to a simple question. “Stop what?” “You question everything, you’re suspicious of everyone. I’m just going to work.” I turned back to the kitchen to get the rice, my hand trembling slightly. “It was just a casual question.” He didn’t say anything else and went straight to the bedroom. Dinner was quiet. Leo seemed to sense the tension and, for once, didn’t complain about his food. After his shower, Mark picked up his coat from the sofa to hang it up. A small receipt fell from the pocket and landed at my feet. After he left the room, I picked it up. It was a receipt for an expensive bottle of perfume, purchased yesterday afternoon. I didn’t recognize the name of the perfume, but I knew it wasn’t for me. In ten years of marriage, Mark had stopped giving me gifts. I used to make excuses for him—he wasn’t romantic, he was busy with work, he was a practical man. Now I realized he wasn’t incapable of romance; his romance just wasn’t for me. I noted down the information on the receipt. The next morning, after Mark had left for the airport, I called the department store. “I need to check on a purchase made with this receipt. Yes, from yesterday afternoon.” “One moment… yes, I have it. The purchase was made by a Ms. Millie Chen.” Millie Chen. The name was familiar. She was Mark’s secretary, a divorced woman in her thirties he had hired six months ago. Driving to the airport, I didn’t know what I was hoping to find. Maybe the perfume was a gift for a client. Maybe I was overthinking it. I waited outside the international departures terminal for half an hour before I saw them. Mark and Millie. She was wearing a beige trench coat and pulling a small suitcase, walking beside him. Mark had a relaxed smile on his face, one I hadn’t seen in a very long time. At the security checkpoint, Millie stopped and naturally reached out to straighten Mark’s collar. He didn’t pull away. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Millie smiled, then stood on her toes and kissed him on the lips. Mark’s hand rested on her waist for a moment before they separated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. My last shred of denial vanished. So those late nights at the office, those impatient glares—they all had a reason. As I watched their intimate exchange, a chilling suspicion began to form in my mind. The child who wasn’t mine… could he be connected to this woman? On the drive back, I called the private investigator. “I need you to look into someone else. Millie Chen. I want to know everything about her, especially if she has any children.” The investigator was fast. The next afternoon, I received the report. Millie Chen, thirty-two, divorced five years ago. She had a ten-year-old son named Ethan, who attended a primary school on the west side of the city. The date jumped out at me. Millie’s son was only a week younger than Leo. For the first time in ten years, I felt a rage so intense it made my blood boil. I sat on the sofa, the report in my hand. Then, an idea struck me. I ran to the study. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. Slowly, I typed in Millie Chen’s birthday. The desktop opened. There was only one folder, named “Work Backup.” I clicked on it. Inside were subfolders, organized by year, starting from eleven years ago. The oldest folder contained scanned photographs. Mark and Millie in school uniforms, standing under an acacia tree. A nineteen-year-old Mark was smiling, his arm around Millie’s shoulders. Millie, with her hair in a ponytail, was looking up at him. The next photo was from college, in the library. Then a graduation photo, the two of them in caps and gowns, holding hands. That was the year Mark told me the company was in trouble, and we canceled our anniversary trip. I closed the folder, a sick feeling rising in my stomach. Ten years of lies. I looked at the wedding photo of me and Mark on the desktop wallpaper and felt a wave of nausea. At 3 PM, I drove to the west side of the city. The primary school was even more run-down than the investigator’s report had described. The final bell rang, and children poured out of the school gates. I sat in my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel. He walked out alone. No one was there to pick him up. He looked both ways, then started walking slowly down the sidewalk. I held my breath. That child. Ethan. No, that was my son. The way he walked was a little like mine, slightly pigeon-toed. When he raised his hand to brush his hair back, I saw a birthmark on his wrist, in the exact same place as mine. I saw a speck of dust on his eyelashes, his lips were chapped, and the sole of his shoe was coming apart. His eyes were empty, not like a ten-year-old’s should be. I covered my mouth to stifle a sob. He walked away and disappeared around a corner. I slumped over the steering wheel and wept. For the child walking home alone, for the ten years of a life that had been stolen from me, and for the fool I had been, living in a play orchestrated by someone else. Then, I wiped my tears and started the car. At the law firm, I placed a USB drive on the lawyer’s desk. It contained copies of all the photos, the paternity test, the hospital records, the perfume receipt, and the information on Millie and Ethan. “I want a divorce. I want him to leave with nothing. I want custody of my son. And I want him to pay for what he’s done.” Walking out of the law firm, I remembered what Mark had said when he proposed. “Elara, I will give you a lifetime of security.” It turned out his lifetime was only ten years. No, maybe not even that long. I took out my phone and called the second-largest shareholder in the company, an old colleague of my father’s. “Mr. Roberts, about the board meeting next week, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you first.” Mark had probably forgotten that the company’s name was Vance Industries. He was the general manager because I had persuaded my father to give him a chance. I had built him up. I could also tear him down. Two weeks after Mark left, I liquidated all my disposable assets. Every afternoon, I drove to the area around the primary school on the west side. One day, it was raining. He didn’t have an umbrella. He waited under the eaves of a small shop by the school gate for half an hour before finally running home in the rain. I sat in my car, the rain blurring the windows. On Friday afternoon, I arrived early. When I saw Ethan—no, my son—come out, I got out of the car and pretended to be a passerby. I dropped a folder in front of him. He hesitated for a moment, then bent down to help me pick it up. “Thank you, young man. Hasn’t your mother come to get you yet?” He shook his head. “My mom’s working late today.” “How are you getting home?” “I take the bus.” I took an unopened bottle of water from my bag and handed it to him. “Have some water.” He hesitated, then took it and whispered, “Thank you.” I noticed that he had a habit of pursing his lips when he spoke, just like me. The shape of his eyes was the same, too. Hooded eyelids, with a slight downward tilt at the outer corners. “Does your mom work late often?” He nodded, then shook his head. “Sometimes.” “What about your dad?” He didn’t answer, just looked down at his shoes. The sole of his sneaker was coming apart, and the shoelace on his left foot was broken. I didn’t press him. I took two hundred dollars from my wallet and tucked it into his hand. “Go buy yourself a new pair of shoes.” He took a step back. “No, I can’t take this.” “Think of it as a thank you for helping me with my papers.” I put the money in the side pocket of his backpack and walked away. After a few steps, I glanced back. He was looking after me, a confused expression on his face. That night, I stood in the doorway of Leo’s room.

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The woman my husband always loved had severe depression. The mere sight of me was enough to make her hurt herself. To keep his precious love safe, he banished me to a crumbling family home in the middle of nowhere, completely ignoring that I was about to give birth. Five years after I was tortured and left for dead, his beloved Claire was diagnosed with kidney failure. The doctors said a close blood relative would have the best chance of a match. Only then did he remember me, her older sister. He called immediately, his voice a cold command for me to come back. My five-year-old daughter answered, her voice trembling. “Uncle… my mommy… she’s been gone for a long, long time.” 1 Ashton Wolfhard’s brow furrowed, his voice laced with irritation. “Whose kid is this? Where’s Elara? Put Elara on the phone!” Willow stammered, “Um… just a second.” She set the receiver down and scurried off to find the old town elder. “Grandpa Henderson, someone’s on the phone for Mommy.” The old man, bent with age, shuffled over to the phone and picked it up. “Is this Mr. Wolfhard?” “Finally, you…” Ashton’s voice trailed off as he registered the old, gravelly tone. His face darkened. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply through his teeth. When he opened his eyes again, a storm of barely contained rage brewed within them. “Where is Elara? What, is she too scared to take my call?” he sneered. “First, she has a kid tell me she’s dead. Now she gets an old man to do it? Is this her new game?” “Does she really want me to come drag her back myself?” “Fine. For Claire’s sake, I’ll do it. I’ll come get her myself.” He slammed the phone down without waiting for a reply. The next day, Ashton’s sleek car kicked up dust on the dirt road leading to the old house. He stared at the dilapidated structure, half of its roof caved in, and his lips curled in disgust. The front door hung ajar, revealing an empty interior. Rotting floorboards and broken bricks littered the ground, and cobwebs clung to every surface like a shroud. Even the windowpanes were shattered. He shot a glare at the young local man who had guided him here. “Where is she? Tell her to get out here.” “If she agrees to donate her kidney to Claire,” he added, his voice devoid of warmth, “I’ll take her back with me.” The young man wrung his hands, looking pained. “Mr. Wolfhard, this is… I mean… maybe you should wait for the elder to get here?” Ashton’s eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he fought for control. Just then, the elder, Mr. Henderson, arrived, leaning heavily on a wooden cane. “Mr. Wolfhard. Welcome.” Ashton barely glanced at him. “Where’s Elara?” Mr. Henderson clasped one hand behind his back. “Elara… she can’t come out to see you.” A cold, humorless laugh escaped Ashton’s lips. “What, you’re going to tell me she’s dead, too?” “Tell her to drop the childish games. I’m not in the mood to play along,” he snapped. “I’m here. I came all this way to get her myself. What more could she possibly want?” What more could I want? I didn’t want anything. I just wanted to live. To watch my daughter grow up. But I couldn’t even have that. My soul hovered beside him, a silent, unseen spectator to his rage. Five years ago, on the very night I was sent here, I gave birth to Willow. It wasn’t long before Claire found me. She was jealous that I had married Ashton, that I had carried his child. First, she sent local thugs to vandalize the house, then had them torment me daily. Finally, she ordered them to end me. They left my broken body deep in the mountains, food for wild animals. It was Grandpa Henderson who noticed I was gone. He organized a search party and found what was left of me, giving me a proper burial. 2 The old elder stroked his beard, his eyes clouded with a deep sorrow. After a long moment, he let out a heavy sigh. “Elara… she passed away five years ago.” A derisive smile twisted Ashton’s lips, his expression turning to ice. “Do you take me for a child, old man? A woman like her? She wouldn’t know how to die.” His hawk-like gaze swept over the small crowd of locals that had gathered. He barked an order at his bodyguards, “Find her. Tear this whole place apart if you have to, but you will find her!” I floated in the air, watching as his men hammered violently on the doors of the small cottages. They shoved aside anyone who answered, barging in to search for me. Frightened villagers spilled out into the lane, gathering in a confused huddle. But no matter where they looked, there was no sign of me. Ashton’s face grew darker with every passing minute. Finally, his patience snapped. He stormed over to the elder and grabbed him by the collar. “Tell me!” he roared, his face inches from the old man’s. “Where did you hide her? You tell me right now, and I might be civil about it. Otherwise, don’t blame me for what happens next!” But the elder’s story didn’t change. With a final surge of fury, Ashton twisted his hand. A sickening crack echoed in the quiet air, and the elder cried out in pain. A small girl burst from the crowd. She was dressed in clean, simple clothes, her hair in two neat braids. Fear flickered in her wide eyes, but she ran to the elder’s side anyway, her voice catching on a sob. “Grandpa Henderson, are you okay?” Ashton froze. He looked the little girl up and down, a flicker of something, maybe recognition, in his eyes. Suddenly, Willow spun around and launched herself at Ashton, sinking her teeth into his leg. He kicked her away instinctively. Willow tumbled to the ground but scrambled back up, glaring at him with pure hatred. “You’re a bad man! Grandpa told you, Mommy’s dead! Why are you still hurting him?!” The world seemed to stop. Ashton’s face went pale, his eyes locking onto Willow with a terrifying intensity. Fearing he would hurt her, I instinctively drifted in front of my daughter, trying to shield her. But I was only a ghost. Ashton walked straight through me. He snatched Willow up by the collar of her dress, holding her aloft as he studied her face. She dangled in the air, her small legs kicking frantically. Staring at the features so much like my own, he snarled, “You’re that bastard child from back then!” In an instant, his fingers closed around her tiny throat. “Get Elara out here now,” he hissed, his voice thick with rage, “or I’ll snap this little bastard’s neck!” Watching my daughter struggle for air, I screamed, “Ashton, I’m right here! I’m right here! Let her go, please, let Willow go!” But no one heard my cries. Willow’s face was turning a deep red, her gasps growing weaker. Forgetting I was dead, I lunged at Ashton, trying to bite the hand that was choking my child, but my teeth closed on empty air as I passed right through him. Seeing Willow about to lose consciousness, Grandpa Henderson’s eyes filled with tears. He pushed through the pain, his voice a desperate plea. “Mr. Wolfhard, you can’t! Willow is your…” Before he could finish, one of the bodyguards kicked him to the ground. The old man crumpled, moaning in agony. Suddenly, Ashton released his grip on Willow. She fell to the ground, coughing and sputtering. He scanned the crowd, his voice a low, menacing threat. “Elara, you have three days. If you don’t show yourself, I will kill that bastard child.” My entire being trembled with a mixture of heartbreak and fury as I looked at the broken old man on the ground and the raw, purple marks on my daughter’s neck. In that moment, my hatred for Ashton burned hotter than any sun. And the love I once felt for him turned to bitter, suffocating regret. 3 Three days vanished in the blink of an eye. This time, Ashton brought Claire with him. The arrogant woman who had stormed into my life five years ago was now a fragile doll, her body wracked with illness. Ashton lifted her from the car with infinite tenderness, settling her into a wheelchair and carefully draping a thin blanket over her lap. His eyes were filled with a pained adoration I had never seen directed at me. All his gentleness was reserved for Claire. For me, there was only cold indifference and simmering impatience. The elder and I were already waiting by the old house. Of course, no one could see me. Ashton’s eyes scanned the area behind the elder. Seeing no one, he struggled to contain his anger. “Is Elara’s heart that cold? Can she look at her own sister, so weak and frail, and still refuse to help?” He tried a different tactic. “Elder, if you tell me where she is, I’ll pave the roads for this village. I’ll improve the living conditions for every family here. And I will take Elara back to be Mrs. Wolfhard again. That bastard child… I’ll even treat her as if she were my own.” In his mind, he was making a magnanimous offer. If we still refused, he wouldn’t be so generous. But the elder could only give him the same, painful answer. “Mr. Wolfhard, when Elara returned five years ago, she was constantly harassed by thugs from the next town over. I don’t know the exact circumstances of her death. All I know is that one day she was gone. We searched everywhere. We found her body up on the mountain… it was… it was in a terrible state. I gave her a burial on the hill behind the village. If you don’t believe me, you can go and see for yourself.” Ashton laughed, a harsh, grating sound full of disbelief. “Are you trying to fool a child? If she was dead, how was that little bastard born? How did she grow to be five years old?” A look of profound sadness crossed the elder’s face. “Willow was born the very night Elara came home. After Elara… after she died so suddenly, we couldn’t just abandon a newborn baby, could we?” At his words, a flicker of surprise and then pure malice crossed Claire’s face. She knew better than anyone how I had died. The memory was seared into my soul. I had just recovered from childbirth when Claire arrived with three men. Before I could even react, they held me down as she slapped me again and again. When that wasn’t enough, she ground her heel into my fingers, the crunch of bone echoing in the small room. The pain made me scream. “You bitch, Elara!” she had shrieked. “Why were you born first? Why did you get to marry Ashton? He was supposed to be mine! He loves me!” I tried to speak, to defend myself, but she unleashed her fury on me, kicking and punching while her men held me fast. Finally, I lay broken and dying on the floor. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “The thought of you sleeping with him, of you having his child… it makes me sick, my dear sister. You dared to take the man I love. And for that, even if you are my sister, you have to die.” As she finished speaking, the three men fell upon me. I don’t know how many times they violated me before my spirit finally broke free from my body. I watched, helpless, as they followed her orders and dumped my corpse in the mountains. The universe has a way of balancing its books. Now, five years later, Claire’s reckoning had come. The one person who could save her was the sister she herself had murdered. She knew Ashton’s efforts were futile. I was never, ever coming back. 4 Claire weakly raised a hand, trying to catch the sleeve of Ashton’s coat. The inferno of rage in Ashton’s eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a soft, gentle concern. He bent down, taking her hand in his. “What is it, Claire? Are you not feeling well?” She managed a faint smile and shook her head. “Ashton, my love… is my sister not coming because she’s still angry with me? I… I can apologize. It was my fault… I shouldn’t have clung to you… But I… I really want to live. I want to grow old with you.” Ashton pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry, Claire. I promise, I will save you.” A deadly glint flashed in his eyes. My spectral heart clenched. I knew what he was thinking, and I screamed, “No! Willow is your daughter! Don’t you dare hurt her!” But the dead have no voice among the living. Two of Ashton’s bodyguards emerged from the cellar, dragging a terrified Willow with them. They hauled her straight to the roof of the two-story house, a good twenty feet off the ground. The elder scrambled to his feet, his voice trembling with panic. “Mr. Wolfhard, what are you doing?! Let her go! She’s your child!” Ashton’s face was a mask of cold fury, his eyes burning with a deep-seated hatred. “My child? Is that what she told you? I never touched her. How could we have a child? This is the bastard she had with some other man behind my back. If Claire hadn’t begged me back then, I would have never even let this thing be born!” The pure loathing in his eyes sent a chill through me. My memory flashed back to a night six years ago, to Ashton’s birthday party. Claire had drugged my drink, planning to have another man ruin me so Ashton would be forced to divorce me. I realized what was happening and managed to escape, but the drug was already taking hold. When I woke up the next morning, the man lying beside me, clear as day, was Ashton. Floating helplessly before him now, I screamed my silent questions. “Ashton, if you never loved me, why did you marry me?! If you couldn’t get over Claire, why didn’t you go find her? She wasn’t on another planet! A plane ticket was all it would have taken!” Suddenly, his head snapped up, and his eyes met mine. If a ghost could feel hope, mine would have soared. But just as I thought he could see me, he spoke, his voice like ice. “Elara, you have ten minutes. If you don’t come out, I’ll have them drop your daughter.” My world shattered. “No! I’m here! I’m right here! Don’t hurt my baby!” No one responded. I flew towards the roof, desperate to save her, but my hands passed through her small body again and again, grasping at nothing. The elder fell to his knees at Ashton’s feet, begging him to spare Willow, but Ashton ignored him, his gaze fixed on the stopwatch on his wrist. My cries were useless. And in a corner no one was watching, a triumphant, cruel smile played on Claire’s lips. I rushed at her, kicking and punching, but it was like striking smoke. “Ten… nine… eight… seven…” Ashton’s merciless countdown began. I collapsed, a phantom kneeling in the dust, forced to watch as he gave the final, fatal nod. They pushed my daughter from the roof. I flew to catch her, but her body fell straight through my outstretched arms. At the last possible second, the elder scrambled forward, a desperate, broken lunge to cushion her fall. But before he could reach her, a bodyguard kicked him aside. He hit the ground hard, spitting up a mouthful of blood, and lay still. I watched in horror as his eyes fluttered closed. Thump. Willow hit the ground. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she whispered, “Grandpa… Mommy…” A soundless, soul-tearing scream ripped from me. “WILLOW!! GRANDPA HENDERSON!!” At that exact moment, the young man from the village ran up, waving a piece of paper. “Mr. Wolfhard! Willow really is your daughter! Look at this…!” Simultaneously, a bodyguard shouted from the back of the property, “Mr. Wolfhard! We found Mrs. Wolfhard’s…!”

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The day I was supposed to marry Liam, he ran off with the woman he’d always loved. As if to taunt me, he sent a postcard home from every new city he and his lover visited—a picture of them, smiling. I was getting a manicure and sipping afternoon tea flown in from Paris when their ninety-ninth postcard arrived. Then, after three years of silence, Liam suddenly reappeared. He stormed in, pointing a trembling finger at a wedding portrait on the wall—one of me with another man. “You’ve been shacking up with some bastard while I was gone!” he roared. I almost laughed. “What bastard? That’s my husband. We’ve been married for three years.” I arched an eyebrow. “Liam, you didn’t actually think I’d be waiting for you all this time, did you?” 1 Liam’s eyes bulged. “You think I’ll believe that pathetic excuse?” he snarled, grabbing my arm. “Tell me! Who’s the piece of trash you’ve been screwing? I’ll make you both pay!” His grip was brutal. A sickening crack echoed from my arm, and I hissed in pain as fire shot through the joint. The commotion brought my mother-in-law out of her room. Seeing a strange man assaulting me, she rushed over. “Who are you? Let go of her right now!” Liam glanced at the plainly dressed older woman and instantly dismissed her as one of our housekeepers. He shoved her hard. “Stay out of this, you old hag! This is between me and her.” I watched in horror as my mother-in-law stumbled and fell, landing hard on the floor. “Mom!” I cried out, my voice tight with panic. “Are you okay?” Liam froze for a second when he heard me call her ‘Mom.’ Then, the fury in his eyes intensified, his fingers digging into my arm like steel clamps. “Mom? That’s your mom? And here I thought you’d landed someone important.” He sneered. “Judging by the rags she’s wearing, your new man must be a real loser.” Tears streamed down my face from the pain. A dark, angry bruise was already forming on my skin. “Are you insane? You vanished for three years! You left me to face everything alone, and now you have the nerve to come back and do this?” “And don’t forget,” I spat, “we never even had the ceremony. We were never legally married!” My words seemed to stun him for a moment, but then he started dragging me towards the door. “Everyone knew our families were merging. You think you can just say we weren’t married and make it true?” he bellowed. “This villa is mine! You moved your boy toy in here and you dare to talk back to me? You’ve got some nerve!” He dragged me out of the house, through the manicured lawns of our exclusive estate, all the way to the main crossroads where the traffic was heaviest. He threw me forward. “Claire! You shameless whore! The second I’m out of the country, you’re spreading your legs for another man!” he shouted for all to hear. “This villa is mine! I want you out, and I want five million dollars in back rent!” “Otherwise,” he leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper, “I’ll drag your name and your family’s name through the mud until there’s nothing left!” Through the gathering crowd, I saw a familiar face—Jenna, the woman he’d abandoned me for. She gave me a smug, triumphant smile, her eyes dripping with contempt. A bitter, humorless smile stretched across my pale face. Liam had humiliated me when he left, and now he was back to do it all over again. I had agreed to marry him to save my family’s business. I thought the alliance would secure the investment we desperately needed. But he left, the money never came, and my family’s company went bankrupt. The people who lived in this neighborhood were all wealthy and influential. Hearing Liam’s accusations, they were already whispering, their minds made up. “So that’s why she’s such a recluse. Hiding her kept man in the villa!” “And I thought she was some high-society lady. Turns out she’s just a gold-digging slut living off her man’s money!” 2 Just then, my mother-in-law came limping out of the house, clutching her hip. Her face was a mask of fury. “You let her go this instant! Just wait until my son gets home. He’ll make you regret this!” she threatened. “Claire, don’t be scared. Mom’s here to protect you.” Liam laughed, unfazed. He gave my arm a vicious tug, making me stumble and scrape my knees on the pavement. “You’re threatening me, you old bat? I don’t care if the President himself shows up. You’re squatting in my house! Now pack your shit and get out!” The sharp gravel tore at my legs, leaving bloody trails on the asphalt. “Liam, this house is mine!” I screamed, desperation clawing at my throat. “Go home and ask your parents what really happened! I’m warning you, let me go, or you’re finished! And she is not our maid. You have no idea who you’re messing with!” Before Liam could retort, Jenna pushed her way through the crowd. She stalked towards me, her face twisted in a vicious sneer, and kicked me squarely in the chest. “You pathetic little tramp, still playing the victim?” she shrieked. “Trying to seduce the rich men around here? Isn’t cheating on Liam with one boy toy enough for you?” The blow knocked the wind out of me. A dull ache spread through my chest, and it felt like my throat was stuffed with cotton, choking me. Seeing Jenna attack me, my mother-in-law threw herself over my body, shielding me. “Claire, are you okay? Just hold on, I’ll find a way to help you!” Enraged that someone dared to interfere, Jenna grabbed my mother-in-law by the hair and slapped her hard across the face, again and again. “You old bitch! You really think this is your house now, don’t you? Let me tell you something. I’d do the same to your pathetic son if he were here!” My mother-in-law crumpled to the ground and lay still. Covered in dust and grime, she looked so fragile. “Mom!” I screamed, a raw, primal sound torn from my lungs. I turned on Liam and Jenna, my voice shaking with fury. “If you have a problem, take it out on me! Don’t you dare touch my mother! She’s over sixty years old! Are you even human?” My words only seemed to provoke Liam further. He grabbed a handful of my hair, yanked off his belt, and began whipping me with it, over and over. I lay on the ground, the world blurring as the blows rained down. I could barely move, vaguely aware of the shifting shapes of the crowd around me. I closed my eyes, a wave of despair washing over me. This is it. I’m going to die here. Suddenly, a man from the crowd stepped forward. “Hey! Stop that!” Liam looked up at the burly man and sneered. “What, are you one of her clients too? You seem pretty concerned. She must be good in bed, huh? All you men seem to fall for her.” He turned to the society wives watching. “Ladies, you better watch your husbands! This woman will sleep with anyone. She’ll have their souls before you know it!” His words hit their mark. The pity in the women’s eyes turned to cold contempt. They looked at me like I was something vile they’d scraped off their shoe. The kind stranger stood between me and Liam. “Sir, you need to watch your mouth. No matter what, you can’t just beat a woman in the street!” Liam’s eyes darted between me and the man. Then, with a roar, he lunged forward, smashing his fist into the man’s face. He straddled him, raining down punches. “You think you can scare me? I’m going to kill both of you today, you cheating whore and your lover!” 3 Through a haze of pain, I forced my eyes open. The kind man’s face was already a swollen, bloody mess. “Stop it…” I whispered. “Don’t drag innocent people into this. Just… come at me.” Liam let out a cold laugh. He walked over to me, planted his foot on my face, and began to grind his heel into my cheek. “Innocent? Don’t worry, I’m not done with you or this old hag! You’re all scum, and I’m going to enjoy taking my time with you. This is what you get for squatting in my villa!” Then he and Jenna descended on us. He held me down while Jenna slapped my mother-in-law, who had just regained consciousness. I felt a tooth loosen under the force of the blows. My mother-in-law was old and weak; she was no match for Jenna’s fury. Soon, her face was a bloody mask. I watched in horror as her head lolled to one side, lifeless. The shock and terror triggered my asthma. My chest seized, and I began to gasp for air. “My… inhaler…” I choked out, clawing at my pocket. “Please… get my medicine!” I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. All I knew was the terrifying sensation of being strangled, of my lungs screaming for air they couldn’t get. Liam ripped my hand away, fished the inhaler from my pocket, and hurled it into the distance. “Medicine?” he sneered. “Stop the pathetic act. I never knew you had asthma.” Jenna draped herself over his arm, laughing. “Liam, honey, she put you through hell. Why should we care if she lives or dies? If she kicks the bucket, it’s just karma catching up with a slut like her.” Together, they hauled me up and began ripping at my clothes. “You love being a slut, right? Well, today you’re going to put on a show for everyone!” They tore my dress open, exposing me to the gawking crowd. I could see the glint of phone screens, people recording my humiliation. Breathing was a monumental effort now, but I forced the words out, begging Liam one last time. “Give me… my medicine… or I’ll die…” My voice was a faint rasp. “Please… I’ll forget everything… just give me the inhaler…” Liam looked at me as if I were the punchline to a great joke, then dropped me to the ground like a sack of garbage. “You’ll forget everything? I’m the one who should be settling scores with you! What a joke!” “You’re getting out of my villa today, and you’re going to pay me five million dollars! If you don’t, I’ll make your life a living hell!” His eyes dropped to my exposed chest, and he licked his lips. “You know, if I’d known you were hiding all this under your clothes, I would have slept with you before I left.” His voice dropped to a greasy whisper. “But it’s not too late. You give me a good time right now, and maybe I’ll give you your medicine.” He dangled the inhaler in front of my face, then scooped me up and started carrying me back towards the house. “No! Don’t touch me! Please, let me go!” I pleaded, trying to cover myself. Liam’s eyes roamed over my body. “Begging me now, are we? Too late! You just make sure I’m satisfied, and I might forget about the last three years of rent.” He threw me down on the lawn, his weight pressing down on me, the foreign smell of him filling my senses. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the void. Suddenly, the sharp, insistent blare of a car horn cut through the air. A limited-edition Maybach screeched to a halt in the driveway. A man of commanding presence stepped out, his voice sharp and cold. “Stop!” he ordered. “What the hell is going on here?” Liam’s sneer instantly melted into a fawning, obsequious grin as he recognized the man. He scrambled to his feet. “Mr. Holt! What brings you here?”

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1 I had been in love with the award-winning actress, Seraphina Astin, for nine years. Finally, she agreed to marry me. At our wedding, just as we were about to exchange vows, she heard that the man she’d always considered her one true love was back in the country. Without a second thought, she abandoned me at the altar to go meet him at the airport. By the time I got there, a crowd had gathered, cheering them on as they kissed passionately. In the aftermath, I became the laughingstock of the entire entertainment industry. Everyone assumed I would forgive her. After all, I had loved her so intensely, so devotedly, for nine years. She looked down on me from her pedestal, as always, and offered me a crumb of her affection. “If you beg me,” she said, “I’ll consider going through with the wedding.” But this time, I just smiled. We’ll see who’s begging whom. … “If that’s how you feel, then maybe we should just call off the wedding.” Seraphina’s expression shifted, and she quickly moved to block my path. She clearly hadn’t expected me to say that. In her mind, Leo, her pathetic little assistant, was supposed to be on his knees, begging her through a flood of tears. “Leo, what is the meaning of this?!” I curved my lips into a slight smile and shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “What do you think it means? It means we’re not getting married.” I had known Seraphina Astin for nine years, and for nine years, I had been her devoted follower, her shadow, her anything-she-needed-me-to-be. I was there with her every step of the way, from a nameless extra to the acclaimed actress she was today. For nine years, I would have moved heaven and earth to bring her anything that would make her happy. Every time her heart was broken, I was the one who stayed by her side, piecing it back together. Today, under the watchful eyes of hundreds of guests, I stood in the grand wedding hall. Nine long years. I thought I had finally won her heart. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. Before the wedding bells could even ring, she got the news that he was back. I rushed to the airport, only to see her throw herself at him like a moth to a flame, drawn to the man who had always held her heart. The crowd around them roared with approval as their lips met in a passionate, desperate kiss, as if they were the only two people in the world. Everyone thought they were witnessing a romantic reunion, a scene straight out of a movie. “Oh my god, isn’t that Seraphina Astin?” “Who’s that guy she’s kissing? They look so perfect together!” “Holy crap, this is huge news!” And me? I was just a supporting character in their drama, a jilted fool left to be ridiculed. I stood there, my heart feeling like it was being torn to shreds, but in that single, agonizing moment, clarity washed over me. Nine years. Nine years of waiting for her to see me, of giving everything I had to her. And for what? For a dream that was never mine to begin with. I looked at Seraphina. There wasn’t a trace of guilt in her eyes. Only pure, unadulterated adoration for the man in her arms. Afterward, I became the butt of every joke. They were all waiting to see how I would crawl back to her, how I would beg her to finish the wedding we had started. They thought I would do what I had always done—anything to win her back. But this time, I just smiled. Seraphina, perched on her throne, thought she could toss me a bone and I would come running like the loyal dog I had always been. “If you beg me, I’ll continue with the wedding.” Her voice was laced with a confidence born from years of my devotion. She thought I would fall to my knees at her feet. But I was done being her puppet. I smiled. “We’ll see who’s begging whom. I’m not marrying you. You can be with whoever you want, Seraphina.” Her face fell. The ever-obedient Leo, daring to speak to her like that. Just then, the man, Julian Croft, spoke up. He looked at the tense atmosphere between us and said, with an air of innocence, “I’m so sorry, Sera. I came all the way back just to attend your wedding… I had no idea…” “Leo, don’t be rash,” he continued, his voice smooth as silk, but his words sharp as daggers. “Sera was just so excited to hear I was back, that’s why she kissed me.” He even had the audacity to wipe his lips, where the faint trace of their kiss still lingered. I almost laughed looking at him, standing there protectively in front of her. Julian Croft, the one who got away, conveniently returning on our wedding day. The intention was as clear as day. He was marking his territory, telling me, I’m back, so you can step aside. I gave him a cool, dismissive glance and said nothing. He seemed to remember something and pulled a small, worn charm from his pocket. Seraphina’s betrayal was a knife in my heart. Julian’s presence was the salt in the wound. He held the charm out to me, a smirk playing on his lips, his voice dripping with condescension. “Leo, I believe this is yours. Sera gave it to me before I left the country. You can have it back now.” He smiled, a picture of innocence. “And thank you. It really works. It’s kept me safe all these years abroad.” I stared at the charm, a whirlwind of emotions churning inside me. A few years ago, after Seraphina was in a car accident, I had knelt in a temple for twelve hours straight, praying for that charm. Now, it was just a toy passed between them. “Leo, Julian is back now,” Seraphina’s voice cut in. “I got him a new one. You can have the old one back.” I let out a cold, humorless laugh and tossed the charm back at Julian. “I don’t need it anymore.” He caught it, a triumphant glint in his eye. “Leo, why be like that? Sera was just trying to be nice. She wants you to be safe.” I looked at his smug, sanctimonious face, and the anger I had been suppressing finally boiled over. “Cut the act, Julian. I don’t want any part in whatever is going on between you and Seraphina.” His expression faltered for a second before he composed himself. “What are you talking about, Leo? There’s nothing going on between Sera and me. Don’t make baseless accusations.” Sensing my hostility towards Julian, Seraphina frowned, her face darkening. “Leo, remember your place. You’re just my assistant. Show some respect to Julian.” Her eyes swept over me with disdain. “And since you don’t want to go through with the wedding, fine. Our engagement is off. Did you really think I would marry someone so far beneath me?” Her voice was sickly sweet, laced with mockery. She ripped the ring from her finger and threw it on the ground. “Take your cheap piece of junk and get out of my sight. It probably made my finger break out in a rash. Do you have any idea how much you’d have to pay to compensate someone of my stature?” Julian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they walked away, lost in their own world. “Come on, Sera, don’t waste your energy on a nobody like him. It’s been so long. Let’s go catch up. I came back for you, and for a very important awards ceremony…” I stared at the lonely ring on the airport floor, my eyes stinging. It was the only thing I had ever made with my own hands. I had chosen the design myself—a Möbius strip, a symbol of infinite, unending love, the idea that no matter where you start, you will always find your way to your partner. But it seemed my love had been misplaced. I had been wrong about her. I took a deep breath, pushing down the pain and the rage. The ring glinted faintly, a perfect reflection of my own dim, broken heart. I bent down and carefully picked it up, brushing off the dust. If you won’t cherish this love, then I will take it back. Watching them walk away, I remembered the first time I met her. She was just a struggling actress, running from one set to another. I had just returned from studying film abroad, eager to find a lead for my first project. We met then. She told me how hard her life was, how much she wanted a chance. She promised she would make the most of it. And she did. The short film we made, Spring, won Best Picture and I won Best Director. Seraphina took home the award for Best Newcomer. She became an overnight sensation. In the beginning, she didn’t have an agent, and her family was managing her career. It was a mess. I couldn’t bear to see the star I had created fizzle out because of mismanagement, so I offered to be her assistant until she found someone suitable. Whenever I was with her in a negotiation, we almost always closed the deal. She noticed it too. She didn’t question my background; she just thought I was her good luck charm. The entertainment industry is full of superstitious people. So she begged me, tears in her eyes, to give up my dream of directing and be her full-time assistant. “Leo, please,” she had cried. “You wouldn’t want to see me stuck as a small-time actress forever, would you?” I agreed. And so, for nine years, I stood by her side as her assistant, watching her climb to the top. When she finally accepted my proposal, I was ecstatic. I thought my devotion had finally paid off. I was too blinded by joy to notice the mocking smile on her lips. Looking back, all the signs were there. The small, private wedding, her insistence on keeping it a secret so it wouldn’t affect her career, the talk of getting legally married “later”… She never intended to marry me. It was all just a cruel game. Back at my apartment, I stared out at the city lights, a glittering tapestry that did nothing to pierce the darkness in my heart. Ding. My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. It was a news alert. “Actress Seraphina Astin Spotted in Passionate Airport Kiss with Mystery Man, Sparking New Romance Rumors.” The comments were a flood of excitement. “I was there! Seraphina and her boyfriend are so cute together!” “So jealous of everyone who saw it live!” “I have a friend in the industry who said she was supposed to get married today. Could this be the guy?” “Maybe! I have sources too, and they say this is the one she’s been waiting for all these years!” I let out a cold laugh and tossed the phone aside. They were wasting no time, already using the media to build their narrative. The next morning, I went to the office to collect my mother’s belongings, the last tie I had to this life, and to make a clean break from Seraphina. I could feel the stares—pity, schadenfreude, and mostly, cold indifference. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. I walked into my office and stopped dead. My personal belongings were strewn across the floor—files, photos, even private items, all carelessly discarded. The floor was littered with nine years of my life with her. Every contract, every negotiation note, a testament to my dedication. And in the middle of the chaos, the one thing I treasured most—the watch my mother left me—was gone. My heart sank. I looked up and saw them standing in the doorway, smug smiles on their faces. “Looking for this, Leo?” Julian dangled the watch from his fingers. It was my mother’s. It meant everything to me. He examined it closely. “This is quite a piece,” he said, feigning surprise. “Looks like it’s been around for a while…” He handed it to Seraphina. She, of course, knew nothing about watches. To her, it was just an old, possibly valuable, trinket. A flicker of rage ignited in my eyes. “Give it back, Julian.” He sneered. “Give it back? You think this is a toy? This is company property.” I clenched my fists, knowing this was just another one of their cruel games. I tried to stay calm. “Seraphina, I’m not here to fight. I just want to get my things and leave.” “Leave?” she scoffed, tossing the watch back to Julian. “You think you can just walk away?” He caught it, his eyes glinting with malice. “You want the watch? Beg for it.” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t lose my cool here. I would find another way to get it back. At first, Seraphina just couldn’t stand the idea of me leaving. In her mind, I was supposed to be her assistant for life, her ever-loyal follower. But seeing my defiance, she decided to up the stakes. I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me. “Leo, if you walk out that door today, you’re never coming back.” Her voice was a threat, laced with contempt. She couldn’t stand being defied. I didn’t turn around. CRACK. A sickening sound filled the air, and a wave of dread washed over me. Seraphina’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Look at your precious watch. Doesn’t it look just like you now? Utterly worthless.” My heart seized. I saw it lying on the floor, the band broken, the face shattered. My mother’s watch. My most precious memory. “Seraphina, you…” My voice trembled with a rage so profound I could barely speak. Julian stepped forward and ground his heel into the watch, sending shards of metal flying. “This is what you cherish?” he sneered. “It’s nothing to me.” A darkness I had never known before flooded my vision. This was my mother’s legacy, my only connection to her, and they had destroyed it with such casual cruelty. “You…” I growled, each word forced through gritted teeth. “You will regret this.” They exchanged a look, a shared, mocking laugh in their eyes. “Regret? Leo, what are you going to do? You’re nothing but a pathetic loser we cast aside. You’ll never work in this town again. You’re blacklisted. You understand?” Oh, really? There was one thing they didn’t know about me. I had another identity.

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1 The night of my engagement party, there was a knock on my apartment door. A little boy stood in the hallway. “Mom, I’ve traveled back from eight years in the future. I’m your son…” My first instinct was to call the police. But then, the boy’s tears splashed onto the marble floor. He clutched the hem of the gown I hadn’t even had a chance to change out of. “Mom, you absolutely cannot marry Dad.” “If you go near him, your life is over. In two weeks, you’ll be in a stunt-wire accident on set and be paralyzed for life.” “He’ll marry you, sure, but he’ll ice you out, driving you into a severe depression until you finally jump from the roof of your company building.” “The person he truly loves is his agent, Sophia Collins.” My fingers, holding my phone, went rigid. “He left the engagement party early tonight because Sophia’s cat had a sudden heart attack.” “If you don’t believe me, he’s at her apartment right now. Come with me, and you’ll see that I’m telling the truth!” 2 Sean scooped up a small pebble from the walkway and hurled it against the steel door of Sophia’s apartment. I huddled in the shadows of the stairwell, my nails digging so deep into my palms that beads of blood welled up. I couldn’t feel a thing. The moment the door opened, all the blood in my body felt like it was rushing backward. Landon Price was there. Of course, he was. He was wearing loose gray sweats, his hair still damp. Tonight, after a single phone call, he’d just gestured at me and abandoned me at our own engagement party, leaving me to face a barrage of flashbulbs and the knowing stares of our guests all by myself. Three hours later, a text finally came through: an urgent matter with the film crew. And this “urgent matter” was him, in sweats, at his agent’s apartment, looking after her sick cat. My heart clenched violently. Landon saw no one at the door. He glanced down at the pebble on the ground, his brow furrowing. “Landon, honey? Who is it?” Sophia’s voice drifted from inside, sticky sweet like melting caramel. “No one. Probably just a neighborhood kid playing a prank.” Sophia emerged, cradling a fluffy white Ragdoll cat. The neckline of her silk slip dress hung low, revealing the delicate black lace edge of her bra. In that instant, my legs nearly gave out. A chill shot through me, cold and sharp. I had seen that lingerie before. On the couch in my own living room. The exact same set. Landon had told me it was a new gift from a designer brand. Now I knew the truth. Sophia must have left it behind during one of their trysts at my place. He actually expected me to wear something Sophia had worn. A wave of nausea washed over me. I doubled over, gagging, but nothing came up. Only tears, hot and uncontrollable, streamed down my face. A window in the hallway was open, and the night wind whipped through, making my whole body tremble, my teeth chatter. Sophia shivered theatrically. Landon immediately wrapped his arms around her, his voice so gentle it could have been liquid. “It’s cold out here. Let’s go back inside.” “Mmm,” Sophia purred, her voice soft and kittenish. “Mochi’s lost her appetite after the surgery. The only thing she wants is the special meal you make for her.” A small smile touched Landon’s lips. “Alright. I’ll make it for her.” I completely fell apart. My heart felt like it was being sawed through with a dull blade, over and over again. So, he did know how to cook. Last month, when my stomach ulcer flared up and I was curled in a ball of pain, I’d tugged on his sleeve, begging him to make me a simple bowl of soup. Just a plain broth with noodles. He had yanked his hand away, his face a cold mask. “An Oscar-winning actor slaving away in a kitchen? What would that look like?” Now I understood. His cooking was good enough for a cat. But not for me. The door clicked shut, plunging the world into a dead silence. I crumpled into a heap in the cold corner of the stairwell, tears blurring all the light into streaks and halos. Sean wrapped his small arms around me, holding me tight. “Don’t cry, Mommy. He’s not worth it.” 3 Landon didn’t come home that night. I lay awake, staring into the darkness. Sean was beside me, his small hand gripping my fingers tightly, not letting go even in his sleep. I looked at his little face, a perfect blend of my features and Landon’s, and my heart was a raging sea. I sent Landon a text: We’re over. He didn’t reply. He didn’t show up. He was gone for a whole week. I finally went to his agency to find him, only to be told he’d flown to Utah for a film festival. “He went with Sophia, his agent. They travel together for work all the time,” the young woman at the front desk added, her eyes holding a faint, unmistakable glint of pity. Landon was a workaholic. Vanishing for a week like this wasn’t unheard of. I turned to Sean. “Every time he disappears, he’s with Sophia, isn’t he?” Sean’s eyes darkened as he nodded. “I found a travel album in Dad’s safe, in his study.” “It was full of pictures of him and Sophia from all over the world… the Northern Lights in Iceland, the snow in Hokkaido, a gondola in Venice…” A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I fought back the stinging in my nose. Landon hated when I visited him at the office, hated being disturbed while he was working. Over time, we’d developed a ridiculous, unspoken agreement. When he was off the grid, I wouldn’t send a single text, wouldn’t make a single call. I wouldn’t try to find out where he was through anyone else. He knew this. He counted on it. And while I was at home, worrying if he was eating properly or getting enough rest, he was with Sophia, watching the aurora in Iceland, relaxing in hot springs in Japan, floating through the canals of Venice. I trusted him. And he took that trust and sharpened it into the deadliest of blades, using it to slice me apart, piece by piece. I turned to leave, my steps unsteady. From behind me, I heard the hushed chatter of a few employees. “Tsk, she really acts like she’s the First Lady, coming here to check up on him.” “Everyone knows Landon and Sophia are the real power couple. Some people will use a little family history to force a marriage. It’s disgusting.” “I heard her parents died saving Landon, right? Isn’t that just emotional blackmail?” I froze. Suddenly, the entire situation felt absurdly twisted. If Landon hadn’t allowed this version of the story to circulate, if he and Sophia hadn’t paraded around the office like a couple, how could his own employees possibly think that I was the other woman, the one breaking them up? 4 I packed every single thing Landon had ever left at my apartment into boxes and had them couriered directly to Sophia’s address. That night, he came back. With Sophia. And her cat. “I’ve already fired the employees who were talking nonsense,” he began, his voice raspy with exhaustion as he reached for my hand. “Sophia and I were just at the festival. The schedule was insane, I honestly didn’t have a second to call you.” “It’s my fault. I’ll change. From now on, no matter how busy I am, I’ll check in with you every day, okay?” His face was drawn, with dark circles under his eyes, his gaze shot through with red veins. He looked like he’d been completely wrung out by work, which only made me seem like the one being unreasonable. I pulled my hand away, my voice cold. “You don’t have to explain. We’re done.” Landon sighed, a long, weary sound. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. I know you’re just angry I left you alone at the party. That text about breaking up… I’m just going to pretend I never saw it.” “And don’t worry,” he added, his expression earnest. “I promise, on our wedding day, nothing will go wrong.” Looking at his confident face, a wave of icy sarcasm washed over me. Sophia chose that moment to speak, her tone meek. “Evelyn, Landon specifically brought me here to explain things to you.” “We really were just working. He was sleeping three or four hours a night, just so he could get back to you sooner. Look, he’s even lost weight.” As she spoke, a glint of silver from her collarbone caught my eye. I lunged forward and snatched the chain from her neck. Turning to a stunned Landon, I held it up. “Then how do you explain this?” It was his grandmother’s heirloom locket, which she’d left to him on her deathbed for his future wife. At our engagement party, I’d asked him to put it on me. He had kissed my forehead and said, “I want to be the one to put this on you on our wedding day.” And now, here it was, hanging around Sophia’s neck. Sophia’s eyes instantly filled with tears, her expression frantic. She dropped to her knees with a thud. “It was a moment of weakness… I saw it on the counter when Landon was showering and I… I just tried it on for a second…” It was a laughably bad lie. Landon never took that locket off, and he certainly wouldn’t leave it carelessly on a bathroom counter. He knew I wouldn’t buy it. His whole demeanor shifted, the warmth in his eyes freezing over. “Evelyn, why do you have to drag everything out into the light?” he said, his voice flat. “Isn’t it better for everyone if you just pretend you don’t know?” “And you can drop the act. No matter what, I’m still going to marry you.” Landon helped Sophia to her feet, his thumb gently wiping a tear from the corner of her eye right in front of me. All the grief and betrayal that had been building inside me erupted like a flash flood, washing away my last shred of sanity. I surged forward and slapped Landon hard across the face. Then I spun around and slapped Sophia just as hard. The Ragdoll cat, startled, let out a sharp “Meow!” and leaped from Sophia’s arms, its sharp claws sinking into my leg. A searing pain shot through my skin, and I instinctively kicked the animal away. The cat let out a piercing shriek. “Mochi!” Sophia’s sob was heart-wrenching. The next thing I knew, a brutal kick landed in my stomach. Landon’s eyes were savage, like he wanted to tear me apart. “Evelyn, how could you be so vicious? It’s just a cat!” I stared at him, my lips bitten raw, a cold sweat breaking out across my body from the throbbing pain in my abdomen. Landon’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Stop being so dramatic. It was just one kick.” “Mommy!” Sean suddenly burst out of the bedroom. Landon’s gaze turned to ice. He violently grabbed Sean. “Who is this? Why is he calling you Mommy?” Ignoring the searing pain, I threw myself at Landon, sinking my teeth into his wrist. He cried out and his grip loosened. I snatched Sean and pulled him into a protective embrace. The sight seemed to enrage him further. His eyes turned a frightening shade of red, his jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. “Evelyn. You cheated on me?” Just as he was about to press further, Sophia screamed. “Landon! Mochi… she’s not breathing!” Landon spun around instantly. Before he left, he shot one last sentence at me over his shoulder. “If that cat doesn’t make it, I will never forgive you.” I watched him and Sophia rush out, and all the strength drained from my body. I collapsed onto the floor. Sean was frantic, tears streaming down his face. “Mommy, don’t fall asleep! Don’t leave me again!” I wanted to lift my hand to wipe his tears away, but my arm felt impossibly heavy. Just before I lost consciousness, I saw Sean expertly grab my phone, dial 911, and clearly state our address. 5 I woke up in a hospital bed. The doctor told me I was pregnant. Looking down at my flat stomach, a strange, wondrous feeling bloomed inside me. A new life, this boy’s life, was growing right here. But Sean’s face was a mask of terror. “Mommy, please don’t marry him for my sake. I would rather have never existed than see you suffer like that again.” “Mommy, please… give up on me!” he cried, burying his face in my chest. I held him tight, my heart aching so intensely it was hard to breathe. I had only known Sean for a few days, but he already felt like a part of me, a piece of my own heart that I could never bear to cut away. Suddenly, the door to my room burst open. Landon’s bodyguards stormed in, forcefully dragging both me and Sean to a high-end veterinary clinic. The Ragdoll cat lay stiffly on an operating table. One of the bodyguards kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to the ground. The moment Sophia saw me, she flew into a rage, her hands flying as she slapped me again and again. “You killed Mochi! You murdered her!” “Mochi had a heart condition! The vet said she had a month to live, at most… You sped it up! You killed her!” “I’m going to kill you!” She yanked my hair, slapped my face, and clawed at my skin with her nails. Landon stood by, a complicated expression on his face, but he didn’t intervene. “Just let Sophia get it out of her system,” he said coolly. “After all, you were the one who got physical first.” Sean struggled furiously in a guard’s grip. “You witch! Don’t you hurt my mom!” “Mom?” Sophia’s crazed eyes landed on Sean. She grabbed his face, tilting it from side to side. Suddenly, a chilling, unhinged laugh escaped her lips. “Landon, look at him. His eyes, his brow… he’s the spitting image of Evelyn.” “He must be the bastard child from that night eight years ago!” The color drained from both my face and Landon’s. That night, Landon’s birthday eight years ago, had been the darkest moment of my life. I was nearly assaulted in a hotel room. When I finally escaped, clothes torn and spirit shattered, and made it home, I was met with a tower of flames. My family’s old house was being devoured by fire. My parents, thinking I was trapped inside, had rushed into the inferno without a second thought. They managed to drag a drunk and unconscious Landon to safety, but they never made it out themselves. Afterward, Landon beat the man who attacked me half to death. I told him, I swore to him, that the man hadn’t succeeded. He said he believed me. But looking at his face now, I knew he never had. My eyes burned with unshed tears as I stared at him, forcing the words through my teeth. “He is not!” He looks like you, too, I wanted to scream. Can’t you see that, Landon? Landon’s fists clenched at his sides. He took a deep, steadying breath. “It doesn’t matter anymore…” Then, he lunged, grabbing Sean by the collar of his shirt. He threw open a nearby window and dangled the boy outside. My blood ran cold. “Landon, what are you doing?!” His face was a blank mask. “Mochi needs a proper resting place. Your parents’ plot at Hillside Memorial has a nice view. We’ll bury her there.” “I’ll find your parents a much better plot somewhere else. You owe Mochi this.” I couldn’t breathe. I was shaking with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. “Landon, are you even human? My parents died because of—” “I know!” he snapped, cutting me off, a vicious glint in his eyes. “You don’t have to keep reminding me. The fact that I agreed to marry you, that I haven’t celebrated my own birthday in eight years, should be more than enough.” “I’m telling you this now as a courtesy.” His gaze shifted to Sean, dangling precariously from his hand. His eyes darkened. “So you choose. Him, or your parents’ grave.” “Three… two…” “The child! I choose the child!” I screamed, my heart feeling like it was being ripped from my chest. Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry! Landon’s lips thinned into a hard line, as if displeased with my choice. He tossed Sean back into the room like a sack of trash. Then, he turned and gently lifted the lifeless cat into his arms. He spared one last glance at me and Sean before walking out without another word. Sophia stood over me, a triumphant smirk on her lips. “The man from eight years ago? I arranged for him to be there.” “You monster!” I shrieked, trying to lunge at her, but Landon’s bodyguards held me fast to the floor. Sophia crouched down, her sharp nails poking my cheek. “And here’s another little secret… I was in the house that night, too…” My eyes were bloodshot. “You set the fire?” “Not me,” she cooed, her smile widening into a grotesque grin. “Your mother just had some bad luck. A bookshelf fell on her. Your father could have gotten out, but he insisted on going back for her.” “Landon was trying to pull me away. He said, ‘Forget them, let’s go!’” “The sound of your parents screaming… tsk, tsk. So tragic…” Every word was a poisoned dagger, flaying me alive. I let out a raw, animalistic howl. An explosion of pain erupted from my chest and tore through my throat, and I coughed, spewing a mouthful of blood. 6 When I came to, I was back in the hospital. Sean’s eyes were swollen shut from crying. He threw himself into my arms. “Mommy, we don’t need Daddy anymore! We never want to see him again!” I held him close. “Okay,” I whispered. “We don’t need him.” A few days later, Landon called. His tone was not a request, but a command. “Mochi’s burial is tomorrow morning. Be there to collect your parents’ ashes.” My voice was ice. “Fine.” There was a sudden silence on the other end of the line. After a long moment, his voice softened. “After Mochi’s service is taken care of, we’ll go try on wedding dresses, okay?” I let out a cold laugh and hung up. The next day, standing at the gates of Hillside Memorial Park, my feet felt like they were encased in lead. Sean held my hand. “Mommy, the stunt-wire accident is supposed to be tomorrow. Can we please just leave this city? Please?” My voice was thick with tears. “Okay. We’ll take Grandpa and Grandma with us, and we’ll all go somewhere new.” But just then, a black SUV came screaming around the corner, barreling straight for us. “No! The car crash isn’t supposed to happen today!” Sean’s eyes went wide with terror. He shoved me with all his might. “Mommy!”

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