My grandmother passed away, so I went to the bank to close her account. The balance: $0.42. The teller, wearing a plastic smile, pushed four dimes across the counter to me. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, we don’t have pennies right now. Maybe next time you come in, we can settle the difference?” “No,” I said. “I want it now.” She sighed, her smile dropping into annoyance. “I’m sorry, you’re holding up the line.” The next second, she pressed a button under the counter. Security arrived and ‘escorted’ me out. I immediately filed a complaint. That night, she posted about me on social media. “Met a total psycho today. Filed a complaint over two cents. Is she starving or just insane?” Attached was a photo of the transaction slip—with my social security number clearly visible. Overnight, I was cyberbullied until my phone crashed. The next morning, I stood in front of the bank’s main entrance and dialed 911. “I want to report a crime. Someone leaked my personal information.” “Also, please investigate this bank’s financial records. I suspect the money they’ve ’rounded down’ amounts to far more than just my two cents.” 1. The police arrived quickly. When two officers walked into the bank lobby, the branch manager was trying to talk me down. “Ms. Foster, look, there’s no need to make a scene over something this small.” “This was our mistake. We’re willing to compensate you for your trouble. Five hundred dollars, how does that sound?” I stared at him, silent. The officers approached me. “Hello, did you call?” “I did.” I handed over my phone. On the screen was the teller, Jessica Miller’s, Instagram post. The slip with my full social security number was uncensored, clear as day. “This person, teller Jessica Miller, leaked my personal information on social media.” “There are already thousands of abusive comments directed at me.” “Furthermore, I’ve been doxxed and received countless threatening texts.” The older officer’s face darkened. He looked at the manager. “Bring out Jessica Miller.” The manager, Mr. King, was sweating, the fat on his face bunching up as he frowned. He bowed slightly. “Officer, maybe this is a misunderstanding? Jessica is just a kid, fresh out of college. Maybe she was just venting after work, didn’t know better.” “Leaking a citizen’s private information isn’t ‘not knowing better.’ It’s a crime,” I answered for the officer. Mr. King’s face turned an uglier shade of pale. Soon, Jessica walked out from the back. She paused when she saw the police, but the moment she saw me, she put on an act of immense grievance. “Officer, I… I was just complaining to friends. I… I didn’t know it was illegal.” “I’ll delete the post, okay? I’ll apologize to her!” She moved as if to bow to me. I stepped back, dodging her performance. The younger officer, taking notes, looked up at Jessica. “Your actions violate privacy laws and could constitute a felony. You need to come with us to the station for questioning.” Jessica’s legs gave out. “This… Mr. King, say something! Mr. King!” Mr. King wiped his sweat, pleading with the officers. “Officers, can’t we handle this internally? We’ll settle privately and ensure Ms. Foster is satisfied.” “This is a criminal matter. It’s out of your hands,” the older officer said, signaling his partner to take her. As Jessica was led away, she wailed, tears streaming down her face, cursing me. “You psycho! Over two cents?! You’ll pay for this!” I ignored her screaming and turned to the older officer. “Officer, besides the data leak, I have another matter to report.” “Go on.” “I suspect this bank is systematically embezzling small amounts from customer accounts.” Mr. King, who had just started to relax, stiffened. The officer looked at me. “Do you have proof?” “Yesterday afternoon, teller Jessica Miller explicitly stated while closing my account that the balance was forty-two cents, but she would only return forty. The two cents would just be ‘let go’.” “I suspect this isn’t just her personal behavior, but standard procedure for this branch.” “Two cents from countless customers adds up to a significant amount. Where did that money go?” Mr. King immediately retorted. “Nonsense! Our accounts are handled by computer systems. Every penny is accounted for. It’s impossible!” “Is it?” I asked him. “Then why don’t we pull up yesterday’s cash flow and system logs right now?” “Let’s see if there are any other ‘let go’ remainders besides my two cents.” The officer found my logic sound and looked at Mr. King. “Please cooperate. Show us yesterday’s records.” Mr. King nervously adjusted his tie, only making it crooked. “Officer, accessing transaction logs requires authorization from headquarters. A single branch doesn’t have that level of access…” “That’s fine,” I interrupted. “I’ve already filed a formal complaint with the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. I imagine their investigation team will arrive with authorization very soon.” Mr. King stared at me, mouth open, soundless. I met his gaze. “I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Quinn Foster.” “I’m a financial auditor. And my specialty is bank transaction analysis.” 2. Jessica was detained for five days and fined five hundred dollars. The CFPB called the next day, confirming a special investigation team had been formed. They would thoroughly investigate my report regarding the “embezzlement of small customer assets.” The bank’s headquarters reacted quickly too. Mr. King was suspended. A Vice President named Chen contacted me personally. His attitude was impeccable, apologizing on behalf of the bank and promising strict disciplinary action and a satisfactory explanation. I hung up, not believing a word. Institutions like this always try to bury the problem first. Sure enough, that night, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. At first, it was unknown numbers, screaming filth the moment I picked up. I set my phone to block unknown callers. Then came Jessica’s friends and family. They somehow got my number and found all my social media accounts. Someone claiming to be Jessica’s cousin sent me hundreds of voice messages. “How can your heart be so black? You got our Jessica arrested, isn’t that enough?” “For two cents, you’re ruining a young girl’s future. Are you even human?” “Leave people a way out. Do you have to destroy her completely?” And then there was Jessica’s boyfriend, even more direct. “Bitch, drop the case or I’ll find people to kill you!” He sent a selfie holding a mop handle, backgrounded by the entrance to my apartment complex. I didn’t reply. I just screenshotted everything. Mr. King’s text came through too. “Ms. Foster, better to untie the knot than tighten it. Jessica has been fired, you’ve vented your anger. The bank is willing to compensate you fifty thousand dollars. Let’s end this here, what do you say?” “If you keep making trouble, it won’t be good for either of us. You’re young, the road ahead is long. You understand.” Threats between the lines. I screenshotted this message too. They moved fast. New posts appeared on social media. The titles were variations on a theme. “Exposing the cold-blooded auditor who drove a teller to suicide over two cents.” “Breaking: The teller has had a mental breakdown and committed suicide!” “The ordinary woman who pushed someone to the brink over pennies.” The posts were detailed, claiming Jessica lost her job because of my complaint and, under my continued pressure, slashed her wrists. She was supposedly in critical condition. Below was a pixelated photo of someone with purple hair lying in a hospital bed with bandaged wrists. The comments section exploded. “Holy shit, real or fake? Suicide over two cents? Is this woman a demon?” “Omg! This is terrifying!” “My friend works at that hospital, heard she lost a lot of blood. It’s critical.” “Auditors think they’re god? Gross! Disgusting power trip!” My name, company, even my college photos were dug up. My phone blew up. My company’s reception line blew up. I watched the venomous words pop up on my screen, then calmly turned off my phone. They thought this would scare me off? I opened my laptop and posted on an anonymous forum on the dark web. Subject: “Offering $10,000 bounty for information on backdoors or artificial financial black holes in [Bank Name]’s software system.” It was the fastest way I could think of to find where the money went. 3. Within twenty-four hours, I got a reply. No chit-chat, just an encrypted file package. “Here’s what you want. Send the 10k to this Bitcoin wallet.” I opened the file. It contained code and a detailed manual. Reading it, I finally understood Mr. King’s operation. The bank’s software had a backdoor built in during development by a rogue programmer. This backdoor could create an invisible “slush fund.” When a teller handled amounts with decimals, like my two cents, the system would pop up a prompt: “Transfer difference to temporary holding?” If the teller clicked “Yes,” the money would leave the customer’s account but wouldn’t go into the bank’s general ledger. It went into the invisible slush fund. The customer’s receipt showed the amount paid. The bank’s books showed the account settled. Ghost money. After the programmer left, he sold this backdoor to Mr. King, who was then just a client manager. Mr. King used this to siphon customer assets like an colony of ants moving a mountain. From pennies to dimes, even small balances in dormant accounts, everything was funneled into that pool. Over ten years, the amount in that pool reached a staggering number. Nine million, two hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Jessica was one of Mr. King’s recruits. All participating tellers got a cut from Mr. King. Jessica came from a poor background, but this scheme let her live a life of luxury far beyond her salary. Designer bags, luxury goods—everything she flaunted on Instagram came from those “let go” two cents. At the end of the document was the transaction log for the fund. Every entry, every exit, crystal clear. The outgoing transfers pointed to three offshore accounts. The most recent large transfer was the day after I called the police. Mr. King was planning to run. I transferred the ten thousand dollars in Bitcoin. Then, I compiled everything in the document into a new report. This time, I didn’t call the CFPB. I dialed a different number. “Hello, FBI Financial Crimes Division.” “Hello, my name is Quinn Foster. I want to report Mr. King, a branch manager at [Bank Name], for utilizing system vulnerabilities to embezzle customer funds totaling nearly ten million dollars. He shows signs of fleeing the country.” The line went silent for a moment. “Ms. Foster, please give us the details.” 4. Jessica’s boyfriend was arrested. He couldn’t hold back. He tried to pry my lock open in the middle of the night, captured clearly by my new smart doorbell. Police found a switchblade on him. The charge escalated from harassment to attempted burglary with a deadly weapon. Jessica’s family panicked. Her parents ambushed me outside my office building, crying and begging. “Ms. Foster, we’re kneeling to you!” Jessica’s mom tried to drop to her knees, but my colleague stopped her. “We failed to teach our daughter. Jessica is immature, and her boyfriend is a thug. Please, be the bigger person, let them go!” “If she goes to prison, her life is over!” I looked at them, silent. “When he was prying my lock with a knife, did you think about my life being over?” “When she incited thousands to cyberbully me, photoshopped my funeral portrait, and cursed my family to die, did she think about what would happen to me?” Jessica’s dad tremblingly pulled an envelope from a cloth bag. “Ms. Foster, this is our life savings. Ten thousand dollars. Please take it as their apology…” I didn’t take it. “Keep the money. You’ll need it for a lawyer.” “But I’ll remind you: attempted burglary with a weapon, caught on tape. The best lawyer won’t change the verdict.” I walked around them and entered the building. They wailed behind me, calling me a heartless monster. I didn’t care. Two days later. A joint task force from the FBI and the federal regulators descended on the bank’s regional headquarters. Mr. King was arrested in the airport VIP lounge. He was about to board a flight to Singapore. His wife and child had left the day before. The branch was sealed off. All employees were detained for questioning. The “slush fund” hidden deep in the system was unearthed. Nine million, two hundred and thirty thousand. Down to the penny. But the money had already been moved offshore by Mr. King in batches. What awaited him was international asset recovery and a long prison sentence. The news was everywhere. “Shocking! Bank Insider Embezzles Millions in Customer Funds Over Decade!” “The Two-Cent Scandal: Financial Corruption Case Exposes Massive Security Flaw!” The people who had attacked me online were stunned into silence. The comments under Jessica’s pity post flipped completely. “Holy crap, so the teller was a thief all along?” “Suicide? More like fear of prison! Lucky she survived, jail is too good for her!” “Cyberbullying an auditor? That family is rotten to the core!” “Support the auditor! Lock them all up!” Jessica’s social media accounts were banned. As an accomplice, even though her cut was only a few thousand, she was charged with embezzlement. She was detained, fired, her boyfriend was in prison, and she faced jail time herself. She didn’t destroy my future. She destroyed her own.

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The year I got an interview with a Fortune 500 tech giant, a new requirement was suddenly added: a perfect score on the English proficiency exam. I scored 699 out of 700. I was rejected. A year later, my adopted sister, Sophie, got the job. At her celebration dinner, Uncle Bob slapped my dad on the back and laughed. “Still the doting father, aren’t you, Walter? You knew Sophie didn’t have the scores, so you just scrapped the requirement entirely.” I forced a smile. “No way, Uncle Bob. When I got a 699 last year, Dad didn’t pull any strings. Sophie got in on her own merit.” “Impossible,” Bob slurred, drunk on expensive wine. “Last year, your dad was the one who demanded the requirement be added in the first place.” I stared at my father in shock. He coughed awkwardly. “We’re father and daughter. I had to avoid the appearance of nepotism. Sophie is adopted; if she didn’t get in, people would say we treat her like an outsider. Besides, she worked hard. She deserves a good result.” My smile turned bitter. Fine. If you want to avoid nepotism, Dad… Then when I audit your taxes at the end of the year, I won’t show any mercy either. 1 The dinner table fell silent. Uncle Bob, realizing he’d said too much, tried to backtrack. “I’m just drunk, honey. Don’t take it to heart.” I pushed his hand away and stared at my father at the head of the table. “So, the new rule last year… you really added it.” Dad stayed silent. Mom tugged on my sleeve. “Don’t fight with your father.” I shook her off. “Why?! I got a 699! You set the bar at 700 just to keep me out? Do you hate me that much?” “I told you, I had to avoid nepotism! You’re my biological daughter! If you got in, what would people think?” I looked at him in disbelief. “Dad, avoiding nepotism means not using your power to give family an unfair advantage! If I wasn’t good enough, fine. But I was top of the class in the written exam and the interview! What was there to avoid?” “But Sophie didn’t even break 600, and you just deleted the rule for her? Who’s the one benefiting from nepotism here?!” Smash! A glass shattered against my forehead. Dad stood up, furious. “You think you’re so smart now, don’t you?” Guests rushed to hold us back. Sophie’s eyes were red. “Sis, don’t make Dad angry! Apologize!” “Look at Sophie, then look at yourself!” Dad roared. “She worked hard for three months! Why shouldn’t she get a break? Everyone knows she’s the daughter of my old war buddy. If I don’t help her, people will say the White family mistreats outsiders!” “Why can’t you think about the family for once instead of your own selfish interests?” “Selfish interests?” I laughed. “Dad, I prepared for a whole year. Who gave me a break?” He froze. I smiled bitterly. “Do you know that because you blocked me, my boyfriend and I broke up?” Dad frowned. “We dated for three years. We planned to meet the parents the day I got the offer. But he got in, and I didn’t. We were going to be thousands of miles apart. We broke up.” “Are you happy now, Dad?” I threw my glass on the floor. Shards flew. Sophie threw herself in front of Dad. “Sis, stop it!” Mom tried to pull me away. I just stared at him with red eyes. Sophie suddenly dropped to her knees. “Sis, I won’t take the job. I’ll quit. Please don’t blame Dad! I’m sorry! I’ll beg you!” She slammed her head on the floor. Dad grabbed her. “Why should you quit?! You’re taking it! You worked for it! Why should her tantrum ruin your future?” “No, Dad, I can’t let this family fall apart because of me!” My parents looked at her with heartache. Then Dad turned to me. “Look how sensible Sophie is. Look at you! You don’t understand even the basics of family. How can your mother and I rely on you in the future?” “Rely on me?” I laughed. “Since Sophie is so much better, why rely on me at all? From now on, let her be your daughter.” I slammed the door and left. 2 I heard Mom and the relatives chasing after me. I walked fast, slipping into the elevator and hitting the button. From the private room, I heard Dad smashing plates. “Let her go! Let’s see how long she can keep this up!” The elevator descended. My eyes burned. Outside the hotel, a giant LED screen broadcasted the congratulatory message: [Congrats to the White Family Heiress, Sophie, for Acing the Interview!] White Family Heiress… I zoned out for a moment. Until a waiter bumped into me. “So sorry! The guests in room 606 ordered another cake, a bigger one! They want the head chef to decorate it!” Sophie’s celebration room. “Why another one?” “Heard someone ruined the mood. The father is angry and wants to throw an even bigger party to make up for it. His daughter got into a big tech company, it’s a huge deal!” I laughed bitterly. I had actually taken the civil service exam and gotten into the tax bureau. But my family only cared about Sophie. No one even asked if I passed or where I was working. I went back to my apartment and spent the next day in a daze. That night, Sophie updated her social media. A video. She and my parents, surrounded by relatives, posing in front of a massive cake. She flashed a peace sign, looking blissful. Caption: [Thank you, Mom and Dad, for always having my back.] I turned off my phone. I didn’t go home that weekend. Usually, I’d have dinner with them. Instead, I drove to the university district. This was where I met Mark. Three years of college. We planned everything. Where to buy a house, when to have kids, where to retire. I never expected to be rejected from the job I was perfect for. He got in. A month later, he broke up with me. He said he couldn’t do long distance. I accepted it, helpless. I walked into the small restaurant we used to frequent. Just as I sat down, a couple across the aisle caught my eye. The man’s voice was familiar. “I used to come here all the time in college. The fish is amazing.” “With who?” The girl teased. The man laughed. I froze. “Mark?” He stiffened. Slowly, he turned around. Sitting opposite him was Sophie. She stared at me in shock. “Sis?” 3 “Wait here, babe.” Mark smiled gently at Sophie. Then he grabbed my arm and dragged me outside. “Don’t misunderstand. We met after we broke up.” “Bullshit!” My eyes stung. “She posted about getting a boyfriend last year! We were still together! Were you with her then?” His face went pale. “Mark, did you really break up with me because of the distance?” “I…” “Don’t lie to me.” He gritted his teeth and nodded. “Yes. I cheated. So what?” I didn’t expect him to be so blunt. “Aurora, my parents are factory workers. Getting me through college wasn’t easy. I fought tooth and nail to get where I am. If I see an opportunity, I have to take it!” I frowned. “What do you mean?” He sighed. “Actually, I missed the cutoff for the interview by a few points. Sophie talked to her dad—the regional VP—and he got me in.” I thought I misheard. “Her dad? You mean Mr. White?” “Yeah.” I almost collapsed. His own biological daughter gets blocked by a new rule. But for Sophie, a word is enough to get a stranger hired. I, the real daughter, was the outsider. The first casualty of success is the lover. I bit back tears. “Mark, I never thought you were this kind of person.” “Don’t blame me.” He frowned. “You don’t know how much I suffered to get here! Sure, I could have stayed with you. But if another woman can help me jump social classes and secure my future, why shouldn’t I choose her?” “If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t stop me.” “Besides, Aurora, if you had the same chance, you would have dumped me even faster.” I looked at him in disbelief. He sighed. “So don’t blame me for betraying you. Blame yourself for not being good enough to get into the company. Blame yourself for not having Sophie’s background or a father like Mr. White.” I paused. “You don’t know who my father is?” “Does it matter?” “What if… Mr. White is my father too?” He froze. Then he laughed. “If you were his daughter, why didn’t you get the job?” I had no answer. “Mark?” Sophie’s voice rang out. She walked up, concerned, and took his arm. “Is there a misunderstanding?” “Nothing. Just an ex from college who won’t let go.” Mark glanced at me, put his arm around Sophie, and walked away without looking back. As she turned, Sophie glanced at me. The corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk I couldn’t decipher. My phone rang. I answered numbly. It was Mom. “Aurora, it’s Sunday. Are you still refusing to come home? Dad is angry. Stop making a scene.” “I’m not making a scene.” I hung up. Then I dialed another number. “Hey, David. Tax audit. Is the Phoenix Corporation on our list?” “Yes, Chief.” “The VP recently took on a protégé. Keep a close eye on him.” “Understood.” For the next few days, I buried myself in work. I ignored every call from home. Until one evening, I was blocked outside my office. Mom got out of a car. “Aurora, finally. Dad is waiting at home. Stop this. You haven’t been home in a month. Just come back, we can talk it out.” I wanted to refuse. But my boss’s car was behind me. I didn’t want a scene. I got in. At home, Sophie was pouring tea for Dad. Dad looked up from the head of the table, frowning deeply. “You finally decided to show up?” 4 “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go back to work.” I turned to leave. Mom grabbed me. Dad was furious. “What work? That little job you found yourself, making peanuts? Is it worth acting like this?” “Without my help, what kind of job could you possibly get?” “Help?” I stared at him. “Mr. White, since when have you ever helped me?” He froze. “Other fathers might have nothing, but at least they don’t actively sabotage their daughters. But you? You’re different.” “Even when I make it on my own, you have to strike me down. Help? Your help goes to outsiders. When did I ever see a cent of it?” “Since you never gave me anything, what right do you have to threaten me with it?” “You!” Dad stood up abruptly. Sophie rushed over and grabbed my hand. “Sis! How can you talk to Dad like that? Apologize! He’s our father!” Dad clutched his chest, pointing a trembling finger at me. “See? This is why I help Sophie and not you!” Mom rubbed his back, looking at me with reproach. “Aurora, we brought you home to make peace, not to fight. Look at Sophie. Can’t you be more mature? Apologize!” I shook Sophie off. “I’m not mature. Sophie is. Good for her. You never treated me like a daughter anyway.” “How can you say that?!” “Am I wrong?” I stared Dad down. He smashed a cup at my feet. “Fine! Go! Let’s see how far you get in this city without me! Get out!!” Sophie reached out as if to stop me, but her hand barely grazed my sleeve. “Sis, don’t be stubborn! Apologize!” “Let her go, Sophie! Ungrateful brat! When she hits a wall, she’ll realize how wrong she is!” Even though I had steeled myself, hearing my own family favor her so blatantly made my eyes burn. I wiped them quickly, walked out, and hailed a cab. On my desk was the file David had compiled. I flipped through it. “I knew it. Sophie isn’t clean.” End of year tax audit. The inspection team pulled up to the Phoenix Corporation building. We went straight to Sophie’s office. “Audit me?” She laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Do you know who I am? Who authorized this?” “I did.” Sophie’s face went pale. The team stepped aside, clearing a path for me. I held up my badge. “Tax Bureau, Division One. Aurora White. We have evidence of tax evasion. Please cooperate.”

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On our first anniversary after ending our long-distance relationship, I lay on the hotel bed waiting for Austin to finish his shower. I idly picked up his phone, entering the wrong passcode by mistake. To my surprise, it opened—but not to the home screen I knew. It was a secret account interface. In the only app installed, Austin had posted a thread using a burner account: “Seven years of long-distance just ended, but I’m not as happy as I thought I’d be. What should I do?” A helpful netizen asked: “What’s the situation, bro? Seven years, and you just fell out of love?” Two minutes later, Austin replied with a long paragraph. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.” “I think I love her, but not like before. When she throws herself into my arms, my heart doesn’t race. When she acts cute, I just feel exhausted dealing with it.” “Seven years of long-distance, I flew tens of thousands of miles back and forth. At first, there was no fatigue, only excitement to see her. But later, it changed without me noticing. I started feeling like I didn’t have enough time, like my youth was being wasted on the road.” “I even selfishly thought, why is it always me giving? Why can she accept it with such peace of mind? Shouldn’t a relationship be equal?” The netizen asked: “If she were to marry someone else right now, would you be sad? If yes, you still love her. If no, let her go.” Austin replied two days later. The timestamp was right before he picked me up from the airport. “I don’t know.” A bomb went off in my ears, leaving my mind blank. I knew then that love doesn’t disappear; it just transfers. 1 The hotel room was perfectly climate-controlled, but the 78-degree breeze couldn’t chase away the chill in my bones. My first reaction to seeing the post was disbelief. I’ve known Austin for ten years. I knew how much he loved me. We met in sophomore year of high school. I was the valedictorian; he was at the bottom of the class. To pursue me, he fought for three years, eventually graduating second in the school, becoming a campus legend. At graduation, he confessed to me under a sky full of fireworks and confetti. When I told him I was going abroad for college, he knelt and swore that distance wouldn’t affect us. It would only verify his heart. For seven years, he flew back and forth over a thousand times. Once, he landed in the evening just to see me on my birthday and flew back at 3 AM. When his startup succeeded, he spent his first pot of gold—fifty thousand dollars—entirely on jewelry for me. Every holiday and anniversary since, the gifts never stopped, getting more expensive each time. But now, he says he’s tired. The water in the bathroom stopped. The lock clicked. He peeked out, saw me holding his phone, and panic flashed in his eyes. “Babe, what are you doing?” “Checking up on me as soon as you’re back? Let me see, what did you find?” I kept my face neutral, quickly switching back to the normal interface. “Why? Not allowed to look? Do you have secrets from me?” Austin glanced at the screen, seeing only the photo gallery open, and sighed in relief. He walked over and smoothed my hair. “No, there are never secrets between us.” He took the phone, set it on the table, and leaned over me. “Babe, I missed you so much.” “We finally don’t have to be apart.” “This time I’m going to stick to you. You can’t shake me off no matter where you go.” A gentle kiss landed on the corner of my mouth as I turned my head slightly. I clenched my fists, suppressing the sourness in my chest. Even if his feelings had changed, at least in this moment, he belonged to me. I told myself to forget the post. I wrapped my arms around his neck. Before things could heat up, his phone dinged. “Mr. Sterling, urgent issue with the project. Come quickly.” To prove his innocence, Austin waved the message in front of my face. “Sorry, babe. Urgent work stuff. I have to go.” He turned around, but I hugged him from behind, my voice pleading. “It’s our first anniversary in the same country. Stay with me, please?” Maybe there really was work. Maybe it was an excuse. But after seven years apart, I cherished every second. The air grew heavy. Austin’s heartbeat remained steady. Just as he said, it didn’t race like it did when we were eighteen. After a long pause, he sighed. “Babe, we’re adults. We can’t live on love alone.” “Besides, if I don’t work, how can I marry you? How can I make your parents trust me with you?” “Be good. I’ll be back soon. If you’re tired, sleep first.” He left without giving me a chance to respond. I took a deep breath, looking up to keep the tears from falling. I dressed quickly and followed him. 2 The taxi followed him to the south side of the city. Villas flashed by outside the window, and my breathing quickened. Austin said the company needed liquidity, so our marital home could only be a condo for now. But if he was coming to this luxury villa district late at night, was it just for work? Trembling, I dialed his number. He picked up quickly, getting out of his car as he spoke. “What’s wrong, babe? Miss me already after half an hour?” “Where are you?” He sounded helpless. “Where else would I be? The office, of course. The staff is waiting for me to make a decision. I have to go, I’ll call you after the meeting.” As soon as he finished speaking, a figure in a silky nightgown threw herself into his arms. They kissed passionately under the tree. My world spun. I clutched my chest, the pain making it hard to breathe. I asked one last time, emphasizing every word. “Austin, where are you exactly?” Annoyed at the interruption, he snapped. “I said I’m working. You were paranoid when you were abroad, and now you’re doubting me when you’re back? Come see for yourself if you don’t believe me.” “Meeting’s starting. Bye.” He hung up and eagerly lifted the girl onto the hood of his car. Their noses were inches apart. “Texting me when you know I’m busy tonight? You’re getting bold.” “But I missed you.” “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore now that your girlfriend is back. Wouldn’t that make me pitiful?” “I gave you my first time. You can’t be a jerk.” Austin laughed at her cuteness and booped her nose. “You’re living in my biggest villa while I’m stuck in a condo. Who’s the pitiful one?” “Fine, you’re pitiful.” “I came all this way. How are you going to compensate me?” “Hee hee, guess!” The girl jumped off the car, backed away teasingly, and curled her finger at him. “Come and get me. If you catch me, you can do whatever you want.” Austin chased after her, laughing. The sight of them running together stabbed my eyes. Tears fell uncontrollably, no matter how hard I wiped them away. When they passed under a streetlamp, I finally saw her face clearly. Chloe. In that instant, my heart twisted in agony. Suffocating. Anyone else. Why did it have to be her? The year I sponsored Chloe, Austin went with me. At the orphanage, all the kids clamored for the toys I brought. Only Chloe stared at my books. I asked her if she didn’t like toys. She shook her head and said the director told her education changes destiny. She didn’t want to be a pitiful worm begging for charity forever. My heart softened, and I took her in. For three years of high school, I tutored her almost daily. She always said she didn’t deserve happiness. It was me who told her, again and again, that as long as she was good enough, she deserved everything in the world. It was me who pulled her out of the mud and gave her a life of plenty. And now, she trampled on my heart and pushed me into hell. Before I went abroad, I entrusted her to Austin. He certainly took good care of her. Even her private life. I got out of the taxi and walked aimlessly in the rain. The downpour washed over me again and again. Seven years of memories replayed before my eyes. There was actually something I kept from Austin. The reason I went abroad was to buy him time. If I stayed, I would have been forced into a political marriage right after college. Only by leaving did we have a chance to be together forever. I bet on him trying his hardest for me. It seems I won and lost at the same time. He succeeded. But our love can never go back. I pulled out my soaked phone. After ten minutes of pressing buttons, the screen finally lit up. My father was surprised when he answered. “You remembered you have parents? Seven years of silence, I thought you died out there!” My voice was hoarse. “Dad, I’m sorry.” “I… am willing to come home for the marriage alliance.” “But I have a request. Investigate someone for me…” 3 Seven years wasted. My father said I only had three days. I agreed and hung up. When I got back to the condo, it was 4 AM. At dawn, Austin came back, reeking of perfume. Seeing me on the sofa, he jumped, looking displeased. “What are you doing here? You didn’t make a sound, I thought it was a ghost.” I took a deep breath and sneered. “A ghost? It’s your own guilty conscience.” “Floral notes. Nice taste, Mr. Sterling.” “Your employee seems to have style.” Austin’s face froze, then flushed with anger. “Are you annoying or what? Checking my phone as soon as I get back, calling me during meetings… do you know how my employees laugh at me?” “I work all night and come home to your cold face. I’m human too. When can you stop being so selfish!” I stood up abruptly, nearly fainting as my vision went black. “I’m selfish? Austin, don’t you think that’s laughable?” “Who do I work for? Who did I start this company for? If I didn’t want to marry you, wouldn’t it be easier to just get a job? Would I work until dawn?” “I haven’t dared to relax for a second in seven years. Instead of understanding my hard work, you’re suspicious. Can’t I even complain?” I laughed until tears fell. “Fine. You’re successful now. When do you plan to marry me?” Austin’s anger vanished, replaced by panic and awkwardness. “I… I didn’t mean that.” “The company has been having issues lately. I haven’t had time to think about it.” Seeing my expression, he rushed to hug me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Babe, I know you’re insecure. Haven’t I been too, for seven years?” “But I want to be a little more perfect before I face your parents.” “Give me a little more time. I promise, soon. Okay?” I felt like I was falling into an ice cavern. I couldn’t even force a smile. I’m not a sore loser. I just wanted him to speak the truth. I just wanted a dignified end. But even that was too much to ask. “Last night, I heard Chloe’s voice.” “The ‘overtime’ you mentioned was with her.” Austin shoved me away, his eyes red. “If you have a problem with me, say it. What does this have to do with Chloe?” “She’s an employee, of course she’s in the meeting. Stop biting like a mad dog, okay?” “When did you hire her? Didn’t you say Chloe was incompetent and not worth training?” Panic flashed in his eyes. “That was before. Chloe is capable now. She even got the Employee of the Year bonus last year.” “But you never told me.” Austin’s patience snapped, or maybe he ran out of excuses. The next second, he smashed the water glass on the table and roared. “Fine! Not telling you was my fault! Happy?” “Everything is my fault! I shouldn’t have worked overtime, shouldn’t have been ambitious for you, shouldn’t have left you for work! You’re always right!” Having vented, he stormed out without looking back. The door slam echoed in the living room, a silent mockery of my one-woman show. For seven years, I was the only one still standing in this relationship. Luckily, the dream is over. It’s time for me to go. I didn’t have much at Austin’s place. Packing was effortless. After throwing out two trash bags, there was no trace of me left in the house. Only then did I realize how little weight I held in his life. Being left behind was only natural. That night, I found a hotel. My phone rang. 4 It was Chloe. Her voice was urgent. “Babe… I mean, Sis! I heard from Austin you’re back? Come to the bar, quick! He’s drunk and no one can stop him. He only listens to you.” “Here’s the address. Hurry!” Before I could speak, she hung up. She texted an address. It was right near the hotel. When I arrived at the private room, the noise was deafening. I could hear Austin’s friends jeering. “Austin, that won’t do! Drinking one glass doesn’t count! Taking a drink for Chloe means double! Those are the rules!” Austin seemed drunk, leaning into Chloe, unable to sit up. “No… no more.” His friends complained. “Come on! You drank triple for her last time. What’s wrong today? Got something on your mind? Drunk so fast.” “Forget it, Chloe. Your brother is useless. Let’s play.” Chloe glanced at me at the door and deliberately lost the game. The men winked at each other. “Find a man and French kiss for ten minutes! The kind with strings attached!” “Oh my, that’s too much. I’ll just drink.” Austin’s friend snatched her glass away. “No way! Austin already drank for you. Now you have to do the dare. Kiss! Kiss!” Chloe rolled her eyes playfully and pointed at the man next to Austin. “Him then.” “A kiss is just a kiss.” She closed her eyes and leaned in. The next second, she was pinned to the sofa. Austin’s eyes were red. He couldn’t speak clearly, but the threat was obvious. “Dare you choose someone else!” “You can only be mine… mine…” Amidst the cheers, Austin kissed her fiercely. The others acted like this was normal. Some even pulled out phones to record. My palms dug into my flesh. Something in my chest collapsed with a crash, bleeding pain. Ten minutes felt like a century. When the kiss ended, Austin collapsed onto the sofa. I pushed the door open. “What a coincidence. Long time no see.” His friends froze, unable to find an excuse. Chloe, in a short skirt and wearing Austin’s jacket, stepped forward. “Sis, you’re here.” “Don’t worry, everyone. Sis and I go way back. I’ll explain.” “She’s not petty. Right, Sis?” The guys behind her relaxed and went back to drinking, ignoring us. Chloe leaned in, lowering her voice. “Austin was too rough just now. He bit my tongue.” “But don’t worry, he just mistook me for you.” “He always says I look like you at eighteen. I don’t know why.” She smiled, eyes curving into crescents. “Maybe because I’m young.” “After all these years of your charity, I’ve repaid you many times. Every time Austin missed you, he treated me like you…” Rage boiled over. I slapped her. “Don’t dirty my ears!” The next second, a heavier slap landed on my face. “What are you doing! Get out!” I looked up into Austin’s drunken eyes. My cheek burned, the pain piercing my heart. “Austin, you hit me for Chloe?” “Look at who I am!” He roared louder, drowning me out. “I don’t care who you are! No one hurts Chloe!” “Chloe is so kind, what right do you have to hit her?” I pointed at Chloe, who was hiding behind him with a provocative smirk. “Kind? Would a kind person seduce a married man? Would she climb into her benefactor’s fiancé’s bed?” “You don’t know Chloe! You have no right to judge her! She has her reasons!” “What are you guys staring at? Throw this crazy woman out!” His friends were dumbfounded. “Austin, that’s your fiancée…” “I only know Chloe!” “Get her out!” They approached awkwardly. I straightened my jacket. “No need. I’ll walk.” “Austin Sterling, you will pay for what you did today.” He laughed like it was the funniest joke. “Pay? Do you know who my wife is? The only daughter of the Su family! Who do you think you are…” Before he could finish, he passed out. I didn’t stop. I left that toxic place immediately. Seven years of love vanished with that slap. Two days later, I boarded the plane home with my documents. Before takeoff, he sent an apology. “Babe, I was too emotional that day. I shouldn’t have argued with you.” “I thought it through. Let’s get married. I’m willing to marry you.” “Chloe is a good girl. If marrying makes you feel secure, I’ll do it.” I smirked bitterly. Like marrying me was some great act of charity. But… good girl? Hardly. Before leaving that morning, I had already sent a package to his company. That gift would serve as the severance for our seven years. Without replying, I blocked and deleted him, then turned and boarded the plane. Austin Sterling, I’m letting you go. And letting myself go, too.

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Chapter 1 Before our baby was even born, my husband posted a photo of a newborn on Instagram. The caption read: [7 lbs 6 oz, mother and child are safe.] Relatives and friends called to congratulate us, but I was completely confused. Then I noticed something in the corner of the photo: a woman’s hand wearing a lavender jade bracelet. I was about to confront my husband when a comment from a mutual friend popped up: [Bro, you forgot to switch accounts.] Just like that, Liam’s post vanished as quickly as it had appeared. No explanation, no apology. He didn’t even ask how the baby or I were doing. Strangely, I felt calm. I didn’t scream, didn’t call to interrogate him. I endured the agonizing contractions alone and went into the delivery room in silence. Two hours later, our daughter was born. Mimicking Liam, I posted a “mother and daughter safe” update. The next second, Liam’s calls started flooding in. But this time, I let it ring until it stopped. I didn’t answer. … Maybe he was angry I didn’t pick up. After the last call ended, Liam went radio silent for half a month. Until one day, just after I finished feeding my daughter at the postpartum care center, my phone buzzed with new notifications. It was Emily. She had posted five videos in a row, showcasing “parent-child bonding.” In the videos, Liam looked down at the baby in his arms with gentle, loving eyes. It looked like a perfect family of three. At that moment, it felt like countless swords were piercing my heart. I looked at my daughter’s chubby little face. The poor thing hadn’t seen her father since the day she was born. My finger hovered over the screen, and I dialed Liam. He finally picked up on the fifth try. “The baby has a checkup at the hospital tomorrow. Come pick me up.” He clicked his tongue on the other end. “The care center has a shuttle service. Would it kill you to ask them?” Yes, they had a shuttle service, but that was for VIPs. He had sworn to me that the VIP suites were fully booked and only standard rooms were available. I believed him and didn’t ask further. But the very next day… His childhood sweetheart, Emily, moved into the VIP suite upstairs. She posted a public thank-you note to him on social media. And I, his lawful wife, became the joke. Thinking of this, I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue. What was the point? He wouldn’t listen anyway. I stayed silent. Liam spoke impatiently. “Fine, I’ll come back. Happy?” I asked, “When?” “Tomorrow! All you do is nag. You’re nagging away all our luck. I’m going to divorce you!” I don’t know when it started. Divorce became his catchphrase. Back when we were dating, if I even frowned, he would follow me around apologizing. He changed. And so did I. In the past, I would have been furious. I would have grabbed his collar and screamed at him. But now, I just felt tired. “Ah, Liam, come quick! The baby wet himself!” A coquettish female voice rang out from his end. The next second, beep beep. He hung up. On the day of the appointment, it poured rain. I called and messaged Liam starting at 9 AM, but got no response. Obviously, he lied again. When I was heavily pregnant, I went for a checkup alone, fell, and started bleeding. While I was half-conscious, a nurse called him. He said he’d be right there. But he showed up three days later. Seeing me discharged, he blamed me for making a fuss over nothing and wasting his time. Since then, I contacted him less and less. We went from being the closest couple to strangers living under the same roof. After the rain stopped, Liam still didn’t pick up. I called a cab to take the baby to the hospital. The doctor said she was doing well. But looking at my pale face, the doctor suggested I get a checkup too. I remembered the dull ache in my lower back before giving birth. It was getting worse. I looked at my daughter sucking her thumb in the stroller. I decided to come back next month. Just as I stepped out of the elevator… I ran straight into Liam and Emily. Liam was holding Emily in a princess carry. Chapter 2 “Sarah! What are you doing here? You’ve gained so much weight I almost didn’t recognize you.” Emily clung to Liam, refusing to let go. From an angle he couldn’t see, she shot me a provocative look. I didn’t care about these childish games anymore. Or maybe I cared too much in the past, and now I just didn’t have the energy. I pushed the stroller out of the elevator, my voice flat. “Checkup for the baby. I won’t disturb you two. I’m leaving.” “Sarah, don’t misunderstand. I slipped in the shower yesterday and fractured a bone. Liam stayed up all night watching over me and insisted on bringing me to the doctor this morning. If we weren’t such old friends who grew up together, he wouldn’t go this far.” “After all, a divorced woman like me… everything is inconvenient. I have to rely on old friends. If you’re unhappy, I won’t call him next time.” Emily struggled in his arms with red eyes, pretending she wanted down. Liam patted her hip, his tone helpless but doting. “You’re a mom now, still so naughty!” Then he glared at me coldly, his voice full of blame. “Sarah, that’s enough. Emily is divorced and has no one to take care of her. She’s younger than you. Can’t you speak more kindly?” I looked at Liam and suddenly laughed. “I’m basically widowed. Liam, are you going to find a man to take care of me?” Liam’s pupils trembled. I turned and pushed the stroller away. That evening. Liam came home with a cold face. “I just saw your calls. Bailing on you was my bad.” “But seriously, what’s wrong with you? The center has cars, why do you have to ride in mine?” Hearing him bring up the car again… I didn’t even look up. “The center’s cars are for VIPs. Liam, I’m in a standard room.” Silence fell over the room. Knowing he had no ground to stand on, Liam pulled out a palm-sized box and placed it in front of me. “The room arrangement was my oversight. Let’s drop it.” “I brought you a gift. An apology. See if you like it.” I opened the box to reveal a pair of low-quality jade earrings. At a glance, they looked like ten-dollar street stall trinkets. A world of difference from the lavender jade bracelet he gave Emily for her birthday two months ago. In Liam’s mind, Emily deserved the moon and stars, while I should be grateful for the dirt he tossed my way. I closed the box and put it back. Liam frowned. “You don’t like it?” I nodded at him. “Yeah. It’s cheap junk. I don’t want it.” I used to feel bad that Liam worked so hard. No matter what small trinket he gave me, I accepted it happily. Even a bag of fruit from a roadside stand made my day. But back then, I didn’t know he was spending a fortune on another woman while being stingy with me. Five years of marriage, and I didn’t have a single decent piece of jewelry to show for it. Hearing my words, Liam grabbed the box and threw it against the wall. The flimsy jewelry box shattered instantly. “I work my ass off to feed you, and you give me this attitude all day? Do I owe you something? What a jinx!” Liam pointed at me, his face ferocious. “Since you want to be difficult, fine. I won’t come back anymore. Live by yourself!” I watched his performance coldly. As he grabbed his coat and headed for the door… I called out to him. “Liam.” He stopped and turned around, the savage expression gone. “Should have done that earlier. Why throw a tantrum?” “Don’t like the gift, right? Fine, I’ll take you to buy another one later.” “Go make dinner. Pack a portion too. I’ll take it to Emily; she wants to taste your porridge.” He rambled on. I waited silently for him to finish before speaking. “Liam, when you said you wanted a divorce earlier… were you serious?” Liam froze. Then he sneered, throwing his coat on the sofa. “Sarah, what do you mean? You want to divorce me?!” “Is this just because I let Emily have the VIP suite?” “I promised that suite to Emily a long time ago. I can’t break my word for you!” “If you can tolerate it, tolerate it. If not, then leave!” Chapter 3 I was about to agree. But Liam turned and stormed out, kicking over a single sofa chair on his way. The loud crash woke our daughter. I ignored everything else and rushed to the bedroom. I made up my mind to divorce. But every time I tried to contact Liam to discuss it, he was missing. The day I moved out of the postpartum center, I finally saw him. He was helping Emily move her things. Two nannies trailed behind him, pulling 26-inch suitcases. Emily sat in the back seat holding her baby, shielded from the sun. A sharp contrast to me, pushing and pulling luggage, looking like a mess. But I felt nothing. Maybe because I had decided on the divorce, I felt lighter. Emily saw me and called out. “Sarah! You’re going home today too?” “Why don’t we give you a ride? You don’t have much stuff, it won’t take up space.” “Blame Liam. I was only staying for 30 days, but he bought clothes for all four seasons. Now I have to haul all this back. So tiring.” Emily complained, but her eyes were full of smiles and showing off. I ignored her. The dull pain in my lower back returned. I gritted my teeth and loaded my things into a taxi with the driver’s help. Before getting in, I looked at the silent Liam. “Come back tonight. I have something to tell you.” Ten minutes later, I saw Emily’s post on social media. A photo of a property deed. And the high-profile caption: [Childhood friends are better than ex-husbands. As long as I have him, I’ll always have a home~] I stared at the red booklet for a long time. It left a bad taste in my mouth. Liam and I met in college. Back then, everyone said we were soulmates. If we broke up, they wouldn’t believe in love anymore. Later, I chose to go to the big city with him to build a life. We had no money and lived in a basement. Because of the terrible conditions, I got seriously ill with a high fever. Liam, a grown man, knelt on the floor crying. He swore that every house he bought in the future would be mine, in my name. Men’s words are truly worthless. I sent a screenshot of Emily’s post to my lawyer. I asked if she could help me get that house back. That night. As expected, Liam didn’t come back. I didn’t care. But my daughter cried for three hours because of the new environment before falling asleep. The pain in my waist started again. I crouched by the crib, taking a long time to recover. Early the next morning. I asked my neighbor, Mrs. Wang, to watch the baby and went to the hospital alone. The doctor looked grave. “Ms. Lin, you have a tumor on your waist. We haven’t determined if it’s benign or malignant, but based on your pain, it’s growing fast. I suggest surgery as soon as possible. Delaying could have serious consequences.” Leaving the hospital, I sat on a roadside bench. My trembling fingers slowly calmed. I looked down at the medical report. My decision was made. Just as I was about to message the doctor to schedule surgery… A greeting rang out in front of me. I looked up. It was the wife of one of Liam’s friends. “Sarah! Why are you sitting here? It’s freezing! Come up, Liam and the guys are having a dinner party upstairs.” She was warm and enthusiastic, pulling me up with a force I couldn’t refuse. Chapter 4 I thought about it and didn’t pull away. It was a good chance to talk to Liam about the divorce. The private room was lively; cheers could be heard from the hallway. The moment I pushed the door open. I saw Liam and Emily with their arms linked, drinking cross-cupped wine. The whole room was cheering them on. “That pose is too easy!” “Liam should hold our Emily and drink again!” “Yeah, yeah!” Emily blushed, and Liam pretended to refuse. I watched this scene coldly. Until Emily saw me standing at the door and exclaimed in surprise. “Sarah? Oh my, are you here to spy on us?” “Honestly, Sarah, you need to give a man some space sometimes. Who can stand this?” Liam frowned. “What are you doing here?” I pushed past someone trying to explain for me. My gaze swept over Liam and Emily, and I slowly smiled. “If I didn’t come, how would I know you guys play so wild in private?” “Sarah, are you crazy!” Liam shouted sternly. Emily lifted her chin smugly, intentionally or unintentionally revealing the beautiful lavender jade bracelet on her wrist. Needless to say, another gift from Liam. Someone yelled, “You haven’t finished the wine!” Emily picked up two glasses, handed one to Liam, and kept one. Then she looked at me. “Sarah, you won’t be jealous, right?” “We’re just playing around as friends.” I kept my voice calm and said to Liam, “If you drink that, we are done forever.” Liam’s answer was to pick Emily up in his arms right in front of me. “Sarah, stop embarrassing yourself here. It’s just a drink. Who are you threatening?” With that, they drank the cross-cupped wine. Thunderous applause erupted around them. “Manly!” “Brother Liam is a real man!” I looked at their intimate posture, their intertwined hands, and my heart turned cold bit by bit. The suppressed anger surged until it couldn’t be contained. I grabbed the pot of scalding tea on the table and threw it at them. “Ah—” They screamed. Emily charged at me with a ferocious face. “Bitch!” My waist slammed hard into the table next to me. The intense pain left me speechless. Before I could get up, Liam bent down, grabbed my hair, and dragged me to Emily. “Kneel and apologize to Emily!” My scalp felt like it was tearing. My trembling fingers grabbed Liam’s pant leg, and I spat on him. “A mistress? Deserves an apology?” Liam’s face changed. Furious, he slapped me several times. The smell of blood filled my nose. Emily wasn’t satisfied. She rushed over and stomped hard on my stomach. “Ugh!” Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. As my consciousness faded, I seemed to see Liam looking anxious. I used my last ounce of strength to slap him across the face. “Liam… I want… a divorce!”

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Chapter 1 I was doom-scrolling during work hours when I stumbled upon a viral post. The title was clickbait gold: [Gen Z Intern Exposes the ‘Best’ Company for Being a Lie] The description sounded suspiciously familiar. I frowned. Just that morning, I had called a meeting to ask if anyone had suggestions about our benefits package. Our new intern, Harper Lin, stood up and said, “I think our benefits are still lacking. If we really want to be an ’employee-first’ company, you should provide free meals and housing, and a daily chauffeur service for our commutes.” I already provided a housing and transportation stipend that totaled over $800 a month. That was more than enough to cover rent and a subway pass in this city. So, I rejected her request but offered a compromise: employees could choose between company-provided housing or keeping the stipend. I asked them to discuss it amongst themselves and give me a unified decision. I didn’t expect the post to go up that very night. [Update: The boss got triggered and is cancelling the housing stipend. Avoid ‘Firefly Inc.’ like the plague, guys.] Seeing the name “Firefly,” I knew for sure. The poster was Harper Lin. I named the company Firefly. The comments were already flooding in. [Whoa! Firefly? That’s the company everyone wants to join! I heard they have a four-day work week!] Harper replied: [You’re so naive. Four-day work week just means you work until midnight every day to make up for it.] [No way! Firefly is famous for great perks. My company gives me $50 for travel, I heard Firefly gives like $500.] Harper argued: [But think about it, what if you live far away? $500 seems like a lot, but it can’t buy back your wasted time!] The commenter was swayed instantly. Another comment popped up: [I heard a rumor that the owner of Firefly is some rich heiress just playing business owner for fun.] I don’t know where they heard that, but they weren’t wrong. My family is rich. Stupid rich. I could lay in bed and do nothing for ten lifetimes and still not run out of money. I started this company out of sheer boredom. Honestly, I never planned on becoming a corporate giant. I just wanted to create a humane workplace. So, I made the benefits insane. Work two days, rest one day. Then work two days, rest two days. Basically a four-day work week. Housing and travel stipends totaling over $800. If anyone had trouble with rent, they could get an advance on the stipend. Whenever I craved bubble tea or fancy pastries, the whole office got some too. Bonuses for holidays and birthdays were a given. I enjoyed giving gifts more than the actual work. So, even if my employees did absolutely nothing, I could afford to keep them. But because the benefits were so good, the staff felt guilty. To repay me, they worked harder. Three years in, not only was I not losing money, I was actually turning a profit. Even my family was surprised. That’s why I kept it going. But the internet didn’t see it that way. The comments under the “heiress” rumor turned nasty. [So she’s a rich girl? No wonder she can’t manage a company. Probably just LARPing as a CEO.] [The only reason this place hasn’t gone under is probably daddy’s money.] [Weird how no employees ever brag about this place online. Is the ‘good benefits’ thing even real?] [The commenter above nailed it. Working for a place like this is scary. Piss off the princess and you’ll probably never work in this town again.] I smirked, speechless. Has it ever occurred to them that my employees don’t brag because they don’t want the competition? My turnover rate is practically zero. In three years, I can count the number of people who quit on one hand. I didn’t comment. I just forwarded the post to the company group chat. Let’s see how Harper reacts. Chapter 2 After I sent the link, the group chat was dead silent for thirty minutes. The first reply came from Harper herself. [Yeah, I posted it. So what? I was just raising a reasonable discussion!] Raising a discussion is fine. Spreading lies is not. I didn’t bother arguing. I just sent one message: [Meeting tomorrow at 9 AM. We’re settling this once and for all.] I thought I was clear yesterday. I wasn’t against company housing. I just wanted them to discuss it and give me a unified answer. Who knew they’d have so many opinions? And I noticed something subtle—even though the other employees didn’t speak up in the chat, the silence spoke volumes. They were wavering. I knew them well. They loved the company culture, and they liked me. Before this, they would have responded to anything I posted immediately. It seemed Harper hadn’t just been complaining online; she’d been sowing discord in the office too. And it worked. The next morning, when I walked into the conference room, everyone was already there. The atmosphere was heavy. I walked to the front, leaned on the table, and before I could speak, a voice rang out. “So, boss, have you figured out how to solve this?” It was Harper, looking at me with pure arrogance. I couldn’t tell if she was just young and reckless, or deliberately trying to sabotage the company. I ignored her and turned to the rest of the staff. “What do you all think?” Silence stretched for a few seconds before one of the senior employees spoke up. “Boss, actually, I think company housing would be more convenient. Harper is young, but she has a point.” “We hadn’t thought about it before, but since she brought it up, I support it.” I nodded. I remembered when I hired her. She was a career woman who had taken a break for family reasons and struggled to re-enter the workforce. I gave her a chance. For three years, she had been diligent and grateful. This was the first time she had ever raised an issue. Then another employee chimed in. “Yeah! My landlord kicked me out last month and I had to scramble to find a place. If the company provided housing, that wouldn’t happen.” Once the dam broke, everyone started talking. “I agree. We wouldn’t have to worry about rent and could focus on work!” As they spoke, I could feel Harper’s smugness radiating off her. When everyone had their say, two quiet girls in the corner stood up. “Boss, we don’t have an opinion. We’re happy with whatever the company decides.” They joined last year. Introverted, struggled to find jobs. They weren’t good at expressing themselves, but their messages to me were always full of gratitude. Hearing them now, the disappointment in my heart eased a little. But before I could respond, Harper cut in. “Are you two stupid? We’re fighting for our rights here! Unbelievable!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her. She was a fresh grad. A week ago in her interview, she seemed so polite. Now the mask was off. I smirked and said calmly: “Since you’ve all reached a consensus, starting next month, we will switch to company-provided housing and a shuttle service. The housing and travel stipend will be cancelled.” I gave them exactly what they asked for. But hearing this, their faces fell. Chapter 3 “If there’s nothing else, meeting adjourned.” I waited two seconds. Silence. I turned to leave. “Boss, what do you mean? Are you threatening us by cancelling the stipend?” Harper’s voice stopped me at the door. I looked back, genuinely confused. “Where did you get that idea?” “If you’re not threatening us, why cancel the stipend?” she demanded. I blinked. “Didn’t you ask for company housing?” “Just because we get housing, you’re taking away the money? Aren’t you a rich heiress? Why are you being so cheap!” Hearing the accusation in her tone, I almost laughed. If I didn’t understand what was happening now, I’d be an idiot. I glanced around the room. Everyone else had the same look of agreement on their faces. So, that was it. They wanted to have their cake and eat it too. They wanted the $800 cash stipend and free housing and transport. Where in the world does a job like that exist? If they didn’t respect me, I had no reason to spoil them. I grew up never wanting for anything. My parents never let me suffer. Now I’m the boss, and I have to look at my employees’ sour faces because I’m not giving them free money on top of free rent? I threw the contract in my hand onto the table. “You want free housing, free rides, and the cash? Are you naive, or do you think I’m stupid?” “You’ve worked at other places. Tell me, which company has better benefits than mine? And now you’re letting an intern play you like fiddles? It’s laughable.” Seeing my anger, the guilt finally showed on their faces. I had been too nice. They thought I had no temper. No one dared to speak, except Harper. She was clearly not afraid of consequences. “It’s just $800! Is this necessary? You don’t need the money anyway!” “Or is your ‘rich heiress’ identity fake?” I didn’t understand where her malice came from. But I wasn’t going to investigate. Whether she was just young and dumb, or jealous, she didn’t matter to me. I didn’t need her approval, and I certainly didn’t need to explain myself. I looked her dead in the eye. “Since none of you are genuinely trying to improve benefits, this discussion is over. Everything stays as it is. And I’m not accepting any more requests.” Then I turned my gaze specifically to Harper. “Instead of wasting time stirring up trouble, maybe focus on passing your probation. If you don’t pass, none of these benefits will matter to you.” I don’t fire people lightly, but she was now on my blacklist. She seemed to catch my drift, her face turning ugly. I sneered internally and addressed the rest of the room. “If you’re unhappy with the benefits here, feel free to resign and find a better place. I won’t stop you.” “But if you want to keep stirring up drama in my company, don’t blame me for being unpolite.” No one dared to stop me as I left. By the end of the day, no one had resigned. I went home, thinking it was over. But that night, I checked the post again. Harper had updated. [LMAO what rich heiress? She’s just a mistress being kept by a sugar daddy! No wonder she’s so stingy, guess daddy isn’t paying enough!] Chapter 4 I zoomed in on the attached photo. It was my dad picking me up from work today. Only my back was visible, but my dad’s face was clear. It was obviously a sneak shot. The comments section exploded with attacks. [That guy is old enough to be her dad! Morals are dead. Mistresses are opening companies now? Anyone know who the wife is?] [I know him! That’s the CEO of Sun Group! I’m going to tag their official account!] [Disgusting. If I were the wife, I’d destroy her.] There were a few voices of reason. [Don’t spread rumors. What if that actually IS her dad? Didn’t people say she was a rich heiress?] Harper immediately attacked the sensible commenter. [Why are you defending her? Are you a mistress too?] [I’m not making this up. I searched online. Sun Group’s CEO is named Lin. Our boss is named Shen!] I laughed out loud. She did her homework, but she missed a spot. Yes, the CEO of Sun Group is named Lin. That’s my dad. But the Chairman of the Board is named Shen. That’s my mom. My dad took my mom’s last name when they married. He works for her. I didn’t bother explaining in the thread. I forwarded the post to my lawyer. [Send a cease and desist letter to everyone slandering me in this thread. Including Harper Lin.] I hate trouble. I prefer simple, brutal solutions. But before my lawyer could even send the letters, they tried to strike first. The next morning, my inbox was flooded with resignation letters. All of them had the exact same reason copy-pasted. They were organized. They thought this would scare me? Cute. I chuckled and checked the group chat. People were tagging me. [Boss, please approve my resignation. Thanks.] [Mine too.] I took a screenshot of my inbox and sent it to the group. [Harper convinced all of you to quit, but she hasn’t sent her own letter yet.] The chat went dead silent. A moment later, Harper typed: [My internet was just lagging!] A second later, her resignation letter hit my inbox. I nodded in satisfaction. If they wanted to play as a team, they could leave as a team. I didn’t approve the requests immediately. Instead, I called the two girls who hadn’t joined the mutiny into my office. For an hour, no one knew what we discussed. When they left my office, I heard the others pounce on them. “Zhang Ling, what did she say? Did she ask you to convince us to stay?” Before Zhang Ling could answer, Harper chimed in. “Obviously! She thinks the company can run with just two employees?” Zhang Ling just said one thing. “You guys are going to regret this.” Laughter erupted outside. I opened the door and walked out. The laughter died instantly. I scanned the room. “Everyone to the conference room.” Seeing their smug faces, I couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t approve your resignations yet because we need to settle your final pay.” “So, once your salary is calculated, I’ll approve your resignation. Let’s begin.”

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At our daughter’s high school graduation party, my husband got drunk. He pulled our daughter aside, slurring his words as he drilled advice into her head. “Lily, you can date in college, but listen to me. If a guy is broke but keeps chasing you relentlessly, block him!” Lily looked confused. David let out a mysterious, knowing laugh and explained, “Because a man who truly loves you wouldn’t bear to let you suffer with him!” “And anyone who shows weakness or cries to you about their ‘childhood trauma’ to gain your sympathy? They’re just looking for a host to suck dry. Run away!” After listening to him, I didn’t sleep a wink all night. The next morning, while he was still hungover, I packed my bags and left the house. 1 It was Lily’s graduation party. David had too much whiskey. As the guests thinned out, his laughter turned into tears. The alcohol had stripped away his usual composure, leaving him an emotional wreck. I handed him a tissue to wipe his face. He shrugged his shoulder violently, dodging my hand as if my touch repulsed him. Lily walked over. “Dad, what are you doing? You’re going to make me cry too.” David immediately grabbed Lily’s hand. They leaned their foreheads together, weeping like children. I stood there, tissue in hand, completely sidelined. I couldn’t even get a word in. It took David a long time to pull himself together. He looked up, pulling a tissue for Lily this time, and started his lecture. “Lily, listen to your dad. If a guy offers nothing but sweet words and zero action, he’s a scammer.” “If he’s poor but pursues you aggressively, pass on him immediately. He’s either after your future money or he wants to drag you down into the mud with him. If he really loved you, he wouldn’t want you to struggle.” “And the ones who cry to you? The ones who talk about how broken their families are just to trigger your savior complex? Ignore them.” For every sentence David spoke, Lily nodded solemnly. They went back and forth, crying and laughing, lost in their own world for a long time. Neither of them noticed when I went back to the bedroom. I listened to David’s “wisdom” through the door as I started packing my suitcase. The next morning, when David woke up from his drunken stupor, I had already left the home I’d built for twenty years. 2 “Divorce?” David’s suppressed anger vibrated through the phone. “You need a reason, Sarah! Don’t tell me you’re jealous because I cried with Lily last night?” He let out a scoff of disbelief. “Can you stop making a scene right now? The kid is heading to college next week. We have so much to pack. Isn’t it embarrassing for a woman your age to be jealous of her own daughter?” David was an expert at making people feel nauseous. We both knew the real reason, but he chose to play dumb, framing me as an unreasonable, jealous mother. He remembered exactly what he told our daughter last night. Sweet words with no action. Poor but relentless. Crying to gain sympathy. Every single point was a description of how he chased me twenty years ago. Back then, he was broke but acted like our love was a matter of life and death. His family situation was a mess, but he told me I was his “only light,” his courage to crawl out of the abyss. I fought against my own family’s wishes to marry him when he had nothing. I suffered through the hard years with him. And now, right in front of me, he told our daughter that these behaviors were the hallmarks of a predator. He was terrified Lily would be tricked. Terrified she would end up like me—blinded by “love.” Maybe he was too drunk to remember I was there. Or maybe the mask had slipped so far he didn’t care if I heard the truth. Either way, I was done. When he told Lily, “Honey, you only live once, I want you to be selfish,” I made up my mind. No one understood my decision. Shortly after I hung up on David, my best friend, Jess, called. “Hahaha, Sarah, you’re hilarious! Jealous of your own kid? That’s a new low!” “You don’t know how good you have it. Your husband is obsessed with your daughter. My husband is a deadbeat dad who doesn’t lift a finger.” I could hear the noise of a dinner party in the background. “Sarah, stop acting up and go home. David spoiled you too much. This is just the smell of too much love!” “Exactly, Sarah! Come back. David isn’t even asking us to convince you; he’s basically bragging about how close you two are. Most couples our age don’t even touch, let alone fight like lovers.” The atmosphere on the other end was jovial. David was playing the role of the good-natured, henpecked husband perfectly. “Stop teasing her,” David’s voice came through, smooth and fake. “Sarah has thin skin.” “Aww, look at him protecting her!” The suffocating feeling in my chest grew heavier. “David knows exactly why I want a divorce,” I said coldly into the phone. “We’re decent people. I just want a clean break. There’s no need to air our dirty laundry.” The other end was too loud; the “peacemakers” ignored my tone, assuming I was just throwing a tantrum. I hung up and texted David: Don’t contact me until you agree to sign the papers. 3 Lily couldn’t believe it either. “Mom, are you really divorcing Dad because he loves me more?” There was a hint of resentment in her sobbing voice. I patiently explained that I was glad her father loved her. Being loved was the best thing for her. “But Mom, you know you’re almost fifty, right?” My heart sank. My voice turned cold. “I recall your father telling you last night that you only live once and should have the courage to follow your heart. You agreed with him then.” “You’re an adult now, Lily. Mom just wants to follow her heart for once.” “…But…” Lily couldn’t understand. I cut her off. There were no “buts.” I simply refused to spend the rest of my life in an environment of double standards. David hadn’t cheated. He hadn’t committed a crime. But the micro-aggressions, the subtle neglect over twenty years, had suffocated me. It started when Lily was small. Once, we were reading in bed. David was tickling Lily’s feet under the covers. They were laughing. Then David accidentally grabbed my foot. The look of disgust on his face was instant. He threw my foot aside and jokingly said, “Ew, smelly.” Lily laughed. I couldn’t. David went to wash his hands. I remembered how, when we were dating, he used to warm my cold feet against his stomach in winter. When I confronted him, he said adults have bacteria and he didn’t want to infect Lily. He ended the argument with, “You almost died giving birth to her. How can I not love her with everything I have?” It was a statement full of holes, but I forced myself to believe it. Over the years, the difference in treatment became the norm. When he came home, he’d hug Lily enthusiastically, then bump my shoulder without looking at me. If Lily spoke, he listened intently. If I spoke, he was perfunctory. If food was “too cold” (in the Chinese medicine sense), he’d snatch it from Lily and dump it on my plate. He told me love transforms into duty and guardianship. I believed him. But his drunken truth-telling exposed my twenty-year marriage for what it was: A scam. It didn’t start with love. It started with calculation. 4 I stopped answering David’s calls. I told him I’d meet him only to sign the papers. But things spiraled out of control. While scrolling TikTok, I saw David on a livestream with a popular relationship guru, “Coach Chloe.” I followed her account. She often discussed parenting teenagers. David knew I’d see it. David’s voice was deep, full of confusion and sorrow. “I just want my wife to come home so we can talk. If she’s jealous of our daughter, I can change. I can change anything. I just don’t want her to run away like a teenager.” “Our daughter leaves for college in a week. I just want her to put aside her anger for the child’s sake.” Then, Lily’s voice came through the speaker. “Mom, I can’t reach you. I know you watch this stream. Please come home. I promise I won’t fight for Dad’s attention anymore.” The livestream exploded. Comments flooded in: “Jealous of her own daughter??” “Classic narcissist mom!” Coach Chloe froze, processing the drama. “Poor child,” she finally said. “Listen to me, honey. Do not cry. This is not your fault.” She raised her voice. “No child should have to bear the burden of their mother running away because she’s jealous of her father’s love!” “Your mother’s jealousy is pathological. She is forcing you to participate in her mental illness. Sacrificing a daughter’s happiness for her ego is pure selfishness!” Coach Chloe leaned into the camera, her face filling the screen. David interrupted, playing the saint. “Please don’t say that about her. I just want her to come home. We can solve this privately.” “Privately?” Chloe scoffed. “Look at you, defending her even now. Honestly, sir, you enabled this. You spoiled your wife like a child, so now she competes with your actual child!” She took a deep breath and addressed the camera directly. “To the wife watching this: I don’t know how you prioritize love and family. But ask yourself, if your parents and your husband were sick, who would you help first? Your parents, right? So why do you demand your husband put you above his own flesh and blood?” “You are selfish, self-centered, and sick.” The comments were cheering her on. “Drag her!” “She has Princess Syndrome!” Coach Chloe continued her tirade. “You’re nearly fifty, yet you act like a toddler. Your husband protected you too well. So I’ll say what he won’t.” “Read a book. Find yourself. Stop making your husband your entire world. You are suffocating your family. Your husband is miserable. Your daughter is traumatized.” “Recognize this: You are the problem. You are not a normal mother. Stop trying to manipulate your family with these stunts!” The stream’s numbers skyrocketed. Chloe ranted for twenty minutes. I was flayed alive by strangers. In the end, Chloe gifted David and Lily books. One for me, to “broaden my horizons,” and one for Lily, to “heal her trauma.” Lily thanked her.

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I got a call from a coworker in the middle of the night. Her mom was in critical condition and needed O-negative blood. I have O-negative blood. I went. I donated a pint. Her family didn’t say thank you. They didn’t even offer me a glass of water. Six months later, the phone rang again. “The blood from last time wasn’t enough. We need to trouble you again.” I spoke into the receiver, enunciating every word of my quote: “Venous blood draw, one pint. Nutrition fee, lost wages fee, emotional distress fee. Total: twenty thousand dollars.” “Transfer the money directly. Once it clears, I’ll go.” 1 The line went dead silent on the other end, as if the signal had been cut. Three seconds later, Sarah’s voice exploded like a volcano. “Are you insane, Jake?! This is extortion! My mom is lying in a hospital bed, and you’re asking me for money?” I pulled the phone away from my ear to dodge the screeching, looking out at the pitch-black night. The darkness tonight was thick and suffocating, just like that night six months ago. My voice remained calm. “That’s my quote. Accept it and transfer the money, or find someone else.” “Do you have a conscience?! It’s a human life! How can you just stand by and do nothing?” Sarah screamed, every word a moral spike trying to pin me to a cross of shame. Conscience? My mind flashed back to six months ago. 2:00 AM at the City Hospital blood donation center. The needle slid out of my vein. A pint of dark red blood had flowed into the bag. The nurse told me to hold the cotton ball and rest. Dizzy and pale as a sheet, I sat alone on the cold plastic chairs in the hallway. Not far away, Sarah and her father, Mr. Miller, were surrounding the doctor who had just come out of the ER, gushing with gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor! You saved our family!” “Doctor, you’ve worked so hard, please have some water!” From start to finish, not one of them looked in my direction. I was like an extra chair in the hallway—used and then ignored. The heat lost from my body was nothing compared to the chill in my heart. I sat there alone until the dizziness passed, then leaned against the wall and slowly walked out of the hospital. The cold morning wind bit through my thin shirt. I wrapped my jacket tighter and called a cab. When the car passed Sarah’s apartment, I could smell rich chicken soup wafting from her kitchen window. Likely made to nourish Mr. Miller after his “exhausting” night. And I, the person who had just given a pint of life-saving blood, didn’t even get a sip of hot water. The memory was a needle in my heart, waking up the humiliation and coldness I had suppressed. I chuckled into the phone. “I’ll say it again. Twenty thousand. Money first, then blood.” I hung up. Without hesitation, I blocked Sarah’s number. Then I blocked her on social media. My world was instantly quiet. But soon, my screen lit up again. Unknown number. I didn’t answer. I let it ring. Then the texts flooded in. “Jake, you bastard! Karma will get you!” “If anything happens to my mom, I’ll haunt you from the grave!” “Please, Jake, I’m begging you. Consider it a loan? Just save her first!” “You heartless monster, go to hell!” The content shifted rapidly from begging to cursing, perfectly displaying Sarah’s selfish nature. Expressionless, I screenshotted every message and saved them in a folder named “Evidence.” Then I turned on airplane mode. The buzzing world finally fell silent. I knew this was just the beginning. They were used to my “kindness,” my “agreeability.” When kindness comes with a price tag, they only see betrayal. If they won’t talk feelings, I’ll talk prices. 2 The next day, I walked into the office and felt the drop in atmospheric pressure. Colleagues huddled in groups, whispering, looking at me with a mix of curiosity and disdain. I knew Sarah’s smear campaign had begun. Sure enough, as soon as I sat down, my desk phone rang. It was the receptionist transferring a call. I picked up, and Mr. Miller’s piercing voice exploded in my ear. “You heartless little animal! You still have the nerve to show up for work?!” His voice was high and shrill. I frowned and held the receiver away. My neighbor in the next cubicle pricked up her ears, pretending to organize files while watching me from the corner of her eye. “Our Sarah is so honest, she treated you like a best friend, and this is how you repay her? Extortion! What is wrong with your heart?!” Mr. Miller started wailing, his voice thick with nasal congestion, acting the victim perfectly. “My wife is still in the hospital, the doctor says she’s in danger anytime, and you refuse to save her over twenty thousand dollars! Can you sleep at night? Is your blood made of gold?” His words cut like a dull knife. especially that line, “Is your blood made of gold?” It was identical to Sarah’s accusation last night. No, my blood isn’t gold. It’s part of my body. It keeps me alive. Why should I give it freely just because you demand it? I turned sideways, blocking the prying eyes, and pressed the record button on my cell phone. “Sir, state your business. Insults won’t solve anything.” My tone was as calm as discussing the weather. My calmness seemed to enrage him further. “Solve? Twenty thousand! Why don’t you just rob a bank? You’re trying to kill us!” “Asking you to donate blood was an honor! An opportunity to do good! You ungrateful brat!” That sentence ignited the anger I had suppressed all night. An honor? So in their eyes, my sacrifice was a favor they granted me? I cut him off coldly. “Donating blood before was a favor, not an obligation. You didn’t even say thank you. What face do you have to ask me now?” Mr. Miller paused, then switched to tantrum mode. “I don’t care! You have to go to the hospital today! If you don’t, I’ll come to your office and make a scene! I’ll let everyone see what kind of person you are! A cold-blooded monster who cares more about money than life!” “Just wait! I’m coming right now! I’ll make sure you can’t work there anymore! I’ll ruin your reputation!” He screamed threats, his voice getting shriller. I gripped the phone and replied word by word. “Welcome. Let everyone judge who is truly cold-blooded: the person who ignored me for six months and only remembered me when they needed blood, or me.” “Also, every word you just said, including the insults and threats, has been recorded.” “If necessary, I will hand this recording to my lawyer as evidence.” The line went dead silent, save for Mr. Miller’s heavy, angry breathing. I didn’t give him a chance to speak again. I hung up. I renamed the recording “Miller’s Threat” and uploaded it to the cloud. I knew a bigger storm was brewing. They wouldn’t let this go. And I was ready to fight to the end. 3 The office was quiet. Everyone pretended to work, but countless invisible threads of judgment wrapped around me, suffocating. Sarah wore a faded T-shirt today, hair messy, eyes red with dark circles. She wasn’t at her desk but in the breakroom, “venting” to different colleagues. I went to get water and clearly heard her suppressed sobs. “…Mom is still in the ICU, the doctor says it’s bad, she needs blood urgently… I really have no choice…” “I treated Jake like my best friend. Last time he helped without hesitation, I thought this time would be the same…” She paused perfectly, sighing heavily, sounding helpless and disappointed. “Who knew… he asked for twenty thousand. Said not a penny less. My mom’s life is worth twenty thousand to him…” A male colleague patted her shoulder indignantly. “That’s inhumane! Taking advantage of a crisis!” A female colleague added, “Yeah, Jake looks so quiet usually, didn’t know he was so cruel. That’s a human life!” Sarah looked at them with bloodshot eyes, grateful, then shot a venomous, aggrieved glare at me from afar. She successfully painted herself as a desperate, betrayed daughter. And I was the villain—greedy, cold-blooded. I returned to my seat with my water, feeling the stares sticking to my back. A female colleague I used to get along with walked by carrying a stack of files. She huffed loudly. Then, as if she stumbled, half the files slid onto my desk, knocking over my water cup. Warm water soaked my keyboard and mousepad. “Oops, sorry,” she said without a hint of apology, slowly picking up the papers without looking at me. I silently wiped the water with tissues, saying nothing. I was completely isolated. Just then, the department manager, Mr. Wang, called my extension and asked me to his office. I walked in. Mr. Wang gestured for me to sit, wearing a look of deep concern. “Jake, I heard about Sarah’s family.” He interlaced his fingers on the desk, leaning forward as if to “help” me. “We’re all colleagues. She’s in a tough spot, we should help if we can. It’s not just helping Sarah, it’s maintaining the unity of our department.” I tried to explain. “Mr. Wang, it’s not like that. I donated blood six months ago, and they…” He waved his hand, cutting me off. He looked impatient. He didn’t care about the truth. “Regardless, a life is at stake. Asking for money like that reflects badly on the company. What will people think of us? That we’re heartless?” His words were soft knives. He didn’t care about facts or my feelings, only “company image” and “unity.” “Jake, I hope you can look at the big picture and handle this well. Don’t let personal emotions affect your work or your future.” The threat was clear. If I didn’t handle this “well,” my year-end review and promotion were gone. This was workplace coercion. Walking out of his office, I felt walls closing in from all sides. Rumors, judgmental stares, pressure from above. I sat at my desk, drained. Frustration, anger, helplessness… they swirled inside me. But I didn’t cry. Tears are the cheapest thing in the world. They don’t buy sympathy; they only invite more contempt. I opened my browser, ignoring the blinking work chats. I typed into the search bar: “Rh-null blood,” “paid donation,” “laws,” “legal precedents.” They thought isolating and pressuring me would make me fold. They were wrong. The more they pushed, the harder I became. Since no one stood by me, I would be my own armor and weapon. 4 The weekend came. I just wanted to lock myself away from the noise. But the tree wants peace, while the wind won’t stop blowing. Around 2 PM, my doorbell rang violently. Then came Mr. Miller’s frantic screaming. “Jake! Open the door! You murderer! Get out here!” I looked through the peephole. He was pounding on my door like a madman, hair wild, face twisted. Neighbors were peeking out. I didn’t open the door. My silence only fueled his madness. He started rolling on the floor, pounding the ground and wailing. “Everyone come look! This young man has a heart blacker than ink!” “My daughter treated him like a friend, and he’s extorting us for twenty thousand dollars while my wife is dying!” “Leaving someone to die! It’s a crime against heaven! If my wife dies, I’ll haunt him!” His voice was piercing. More neighbors gathered. Whispers leaked through the door. “He looks so polite, how can he be so cruel?” “Yeah, asking for twenty thousand? That’s basically murder.” Each word was an invisible knife. I couldn’t stand the public trial anymore. I yanked the door open. I just wanted him to shut up. Seeing the door open, his eyes lit up with malicious glee. He lunged at me like a starving wolf. He grabbed my arm, digging his nails in, trying to drag me out. “Come to the hospital! You’re donating today whether you like it or not!” He was surprisingly strong. I struggled, but he held on tight. In the chaos, Mr. Miller raised his hand and slapped me across the face with all his might. Slap! The sound echoed in the hallway. My left cheek burned with pain. My ears rang. I was stunned. Stunned, but also awake. In that moment, all the grievance and anger turned into cold fire. I used all my strength to shove him away. He stumbled back and fell on his butt. I retreated inside, locked the door, and leaned against it, heart pounding. Without hesitation, I dialed 911. The police arrived quickly. Seeing the uniforms, Mr. Miller sat on the floor and wailed louder, accusing me of assault. Then, rushing footsteps. Sarah arrived. She ran to the officers, face full of grief and indignation. She pointed at me and screamed: “Officer, that’s him! That’s Jake!” “My mom is waiting for blood, and he blackmailed us for twenty thousand dollars!” She pulled out her phone, playing a recording with a triumphant sneer. “I have proof! He admitted it! Officer, this isn’t extortion, it’s attempted murder!”

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When the results of the second mock exams came out, I, the perpetual valedictorian, was dead last. Suddenly, a stream of text floated across my vision like a live chat: [The male lead is so screwed! Everyone around him has activated the Swap System. They’re forcibly trading attributes with him.] [Swapping grades is just the beginning…] The comments were all lamenting my tragic fate. Until the next day. The person who stole my grades suddenly dropped dead. 01 [Congratulations! You have identified the first Swapper!] [Please identify all hidden Swappers before the SATs. Failure to do so will result in the “Human Swine” penalty.] [Swappers identified: 1] [Countdown to SATs: 44 days] The system’s cold notification rang in my head. I clenched my fists. Beside me, my desk mate, Caleb, was gossiping with a look of disbelief. “…They say she was just walking down the street and boom, heart attack. She was perfectly healthy during the last checkup.” Seeing my distracted expression, Caleb lowered his voice. “But it is weird, right? Sarah from AP Bio was always failing, but this time she got the highest score in the school. And right after that, she drops dead. People are saying she messed with some dark magic or something.” I forced a pale smile. “There’s no such thing as magic. Let the dead rest in peace. Don’t spread rumors.” Caleb shut up, looking chagrined. I lowered my eyes to hide the storm brewing within them. Three days ago, I was bound to the [Predator System]. The system told me that people around me were bound to the [Swap System]. Each of them has one chance to swap something of mine with theirs, at no cost to themselves. Grades were just the start. Soon, someone would swap my looks, my family, even my lifespan. I had to find all the Swappers before the SATs. Otherwise, everything valuable I possessed would be stolen. Eventually, even my limbs and eyes would be taken, leaving me a “human swine”—a torso kept alive in agony. However, any Swapper I correctly identified would die instantly. Whatever they stole would return to me within two business days. This was a game of life and death. At first, I was skeptical. Until the mock exam scores came out. I, who always ranked first, was at the bottom. And Sarah, who always failed, was number one. So, I didn’t hesitate. I opened the system interface. [Swapper Identity Confirmed: Sarah Jones.] [She stole your grades.] Not long after, I heard the news of Sarah’s death. From this, I confirmed two things. Chapter 2 First, the system and the floating text weren’t lying. Swappers were lurking around me, and I had to fight to the death. Second, the Swappers didn’t know I had the Predator System. Otherwise, Sarah wouldn’t have been so blatant about stealing my grades. They were in the light; I was in the dark. I had the advantage. 02 Two days after Sarah died, our homeroom teacher made an announcement. “There was a glitch in the grading system. Sarah Jones’s and Liam’s scores were swapped in the database. Liam is actually the top scorer for this exam.” The teacher looked at me warmly. “Liam, you’ve been number one all year. Keep this up, and you might be the state valedictorian.” I smiled slightly. The system was precise. Two business days, right on time. A few days later. While washing my face in the morning, I noticed several pimples. The familiar text floated by. [Another Swapper made a move. This time, they swapped the male lead’s looks.] [This Swapper is smart. He didn’t swap everything at once. He’s doing it gradually.] [After all, the male lead is the school heartthrob. Since *** is so plain, a full swap would be too obvious.] [The male lead probably just thinks he’s stressed and breaking out. He won’t notice a thing.] [And to think the male lead has always been so nice to him. You really can’t trust anyone.] I see. Without the chat log, I wouldn’t have noticed so soon. Although the name was censored, I gleaned three clues. The Swapper is an average-looking guy. The Swapper has a three-syllable name. The Swapper is close to me. Three names popped into my head. My desk mate, Caleb Miller. My roommate, Ethan Davis. My neighbor, Zach Wilson. After observing them, I locked onto Caleb. Usually a bit chubby, he had suddenly slimmed down recently. His face looked much clearer. [Swapper Identity Confirmed: Caleb Miller.] [He stole a portion of your appearance.] The next second, a piercing alarm shrieked in my brain. [WARNING! WARNING!] [Host failed to identify the true Swapper!] [You have one more chance. Please find the real thief of your looks within three days.] [If you fail again, you will receive a penalty: Looks permanently -50, SAT Score permanently -100.] [Please take this game seriously!] Chapter 3 03 I paused. This Swapper was cunning. Perhaps Sarah’s death served as a warning to the others. They were no longer reckless. They were hiding. The hunt just got harder. Back in the dorm, I quietly observed my roommate, Ethan. Was it my imagination, or was his skin glowing? Ethan was humming a tune. “Ethan, did you change your face wash? You look… radiant.” I probed casually. “Really? You think so?” Ethan beamed. “It’s this new brand I saw on TikTok. It was cheap, so I tried it. I’ll send you the link!” He sent it immediately, rambling about skincare routines. I laughed along, then pulled out my phone and texted my neighbor, Zach. “Hey bro, you off tomorrow? Wanna go shopping for clothes?” Zach replied quickly: “Nah, I’m gonna study at home. SATs are in a month, I’m too stressed to go out.” The next day, I knocked on Zach’s door with a crepe cake. “Picked this up on my way back.” I held up the cake and slipped inside. “Nice! You’re a lifesaver!” Zach took the cake happily. I asked casually, “Bro, have you been losing weight? You look thinner.” “No way,” Zach said naturally. “I’ve been stress-eating kebabs every night. Maybe the exam pressure is making me look gaunt.” He stepped on the scale in the living room. “See? Haven’t lost a pound. Got excited for nothing.” We chatted for a bit before I left. Back home, I summoned the system. [Swapper Identity Confirmed: Zach Wilson.] [He stole a portion of your appearance.] 04 Zach hadn’t lost weight, nor was his skin glowing. He looked normal. But I remembered he had oily skin. If he ate greasy food or sweets, he’d break out instantly. Yet, his face was clear. Chapter 4 Obviously, those pimples had been transferred to my face. [Congratulations! You have identified the second Swapper!] [Swappers identified: 2] [Countdown to SATs: 36 days] Outside, I heard the frantic screams of Zach’s parents. “Zach! What’s wrong?! Don’t scare us!” “Call 911! Hurry!” I froze. I knew identifying them meant death. But Zach… he died over some pimples. Was it worth it? Sensing my hesitation, the system spoke coldly: [The moment he chose to target you and steal your looks, he ceased to be your friend.] [Mercy to the enemy leads to you becoming a ‘Human Swine’.] [Take the game seriously.] I shook my head. [It’s not mercy. I just don’t understand why. Is being good-looking that important?] Important enough to stab your best friend in the back? Or maybe… I was the only one who thought we were friends. Now that he was dead, no one would know what he was thinking. But suddenly, everyone around me felt like they were wearing masks. What were they hiding behind those friendly smiles? Over the next week, I caught two more Swappers. One stole my scholarship nomination. Another stole my popularity. I caught them quickly. The system was excited: [Swapper abilities are only valid before the SATs.] [Keep it up, Host! Once the exams are over, they can’t touch you!] [I am applying for a reward mechanism. For every Swapper caught, +10 points to your SAT score!] Things were looking up. Even the chat comments said I might change the tragic ending of the original story. Until that day. I was walking down the street. A truck lost control and barreled toward me. When I woke up, I heard the word “amputation” from outside the hospital room. [WARNING! WARNING!] [Host’s Luck stat has dropped to ZERO!] [Find the Swapper who stole your Luck within 24 hours!] [Failure will result in forced amputation of both legs!]

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My family was on the verge of bankruptcy, and I was being forced into an arranged marriage to save it. As soon as I was dropped off at the Sterling mansion, I heard shouting from inside: “I don’t care how pretty she is! I just heard her asking someone if their parents were dead! With that kind of attitude—” I silently pushed open the door, fully prepared to be rejected. The next second, the young master inside turned beet red and gasped: “Miss Hale is not only beautiful but also deeply caring. I knew my father had excellent taste. I will follow your arrangements completely.” His father: “?” Me: “?” 1 My family was facing bankruptcy, so I was packed up and sent to the Sterling estate in the middle of the night. Before I even stepped through the door, I heard a furious roar: “You old man, you control everything! Don’t you know marriage is about freedom now?! “I’m only twenty-three! I won’t marry some strange older woman! “Even if I get hit by a car the moment I step outside, I won’t agree to this ridiculous demand! “What did you say? She’s pretty? How superficial can you be! “What use is being pretty?! That girl outside is her, right? “I passed by her earlier and heard her asking someone if their parents were dead! With that kind of attitude, even a dog wouldn’t marry her!” I froze. He seemed to be talking about me. When I got out of the car, a street vendor splashed mud all over me with his cart. I was about to say something, but he immediately yelled that I was blind for not watching where I was going. We got into an argument, and he ended up asking if my parents were dead since I had no manners. So I replied, “Your parents are the ones who are dead.” Did Julian Sterling just walk past me? Well, he must have selective hearing, because he only heard me cursing, not the guy cursing me. The argument inside grew louder, accompanied by the sound of things smashing. I closed my eyes in despair. This marriage alliance was probably dead in the water. Rumor had it that Julian was the only son born to Mr. Sterling in his old age, spoiled rotten and arrogant beyond belief. And for something as big as an arranged marriage, even if the old man liked me, his son’s opinion mattered more. I sighed. Forget it. For the sake of decency, I had to at least greet Mr. Sterling. I was already here. Might as well get it over with today instead of dragging it out. Leaving my luggage at the door, I hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. “If you force me, old man, I’ll bash my head in right now!” Julian was facing the wall, head tilted back, looking fully prepared to knock himself out. I carefully extended a hand. “Um, you don’t need to kill yourself. We can just call off the engagement.” If he actually died, I’d be implicated. The thought made my scalp tingle, and I shivered. Two pairs of eyes inside the room landed on me simultaneously. “Scarlett, why are you here so early?” Old Mr. Sterling looked surprised, glancing at his crazy son with hesitation. “Scarlett, as you can see, this marriage… your father and I discussed it, but—” “Ouch!” Before Mr. Sterling could finish, Julian suddenly collapsed to the floor. He proped himself up halfway, banged his head against the wall a few times, and stared straight at me. “Miss Hale, please excuse me. When my headaches act up, banging my head helps. But I’m perfectly healthy otherwise. If you don’t believe me, we can do a pre-marital health check.” His father: “?” Me: “?” 2 Perhaps it was the supreme confidence of being in his own home. Julian showed zero embarrassment. He picked himself up from the floor and turned to me with a polite smile. “Miss Hale, you came over first thing in the morning. Did you sleep well? Would you like to catch up on some rest here?” Me: “…” “I think I heard Miss Hale showing concern for someone outside earlier. Miss Hale is truly beautiful and kind-hearted, isn’t she, Father?” His father: “…” If I hadn’t heard what he was screaming just moments before, I might have been fooled by his handsome exterior. I looked up at him. He truly lived up to the title of a young master born with a silver spoon. Tall and broad-shouldered, yet he had a pair of puppy-dog eyes that added a touch of dopey charm to his sharp, aloof features. When Julian met my gaze, his face turned crimson, and he hurriedly looked away. His comment reminded me of what he said before I entered—that I had bad manners. If his current politeness was just for show, and we broke off the engagement, I could still marry someone else. But if he went around telling everyone in our circle that I had bad manners, my reputation would be ruined, and my backup plans would be gone. Thinking of my family’s precarious business, I couldn’t help but speak up, whispering an explanation. “I didn’t ask if someone’s parents were dead. That vendor cursed me first.” Julian paused slightly. Then he panicked. “I wasn’t badmouthing you! Miss Hale, you misunderstood!” He scratched his head, looked at Mr. Sterling, and his eyes lit up. He turned and shouted: “Dad, why aren’t you dead yet? When am I getting the inheritance?” Then he grinned at me: “I know Miss Hale meant to show concern. I often show concern for my dad like this at home too.” …What a filial son. I curved my lips slightly, not daring to make a sound. The next second. Slap! Mr. Sterling slapped Julian across the face, furious. “You unfilial brat!” Being humiliated by his own father made Julian lose face. It also seemed to slap him awake. The look he gave me suddenly became distant. Julian swallowed hard and lifted his chin. “I was talking in my sleep just now. Haven’t woken up yet. Don’t take it seriously. You’re only average-looking anyway.” Slap! Another slap landed on Julian’s face. “That’s not why I’m mad! Bastard! How did I raise such a bastard!” Mr. Sterling rolled his eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. The scene was chaotic. I spoke up weakly. “Maybe we should just call off the wedding.” I felt like this young master had a few screws loose. Sure enough. The sleep-talking fairy opened his mouth: “Fine, then I’ll reluctantly agree to marry you.” “…” 3 Julian had just ordered the driver to take me home. In the afternoon, he showed up at my door with bags of gifts, rushing like he was on fire. “I’m reluctantly visiting your home. You don’t mind, do you?” Looking at Julian, dressed in a black suit encrusted with rhinestones, hair styled perfectly, preening like a peacock. This is what he calls “reluctantly”? I was confused, but played along: “I don’t mind. Wear whatever you want.” Julian’s smug smile froze. He muttered something about leaving something in the car and told me to go inside first. When he came back in. My little sister dived into my arms, crying loudly that a dragon fruit monster was outside. I looked up. Julian’s black rhinestone suit had been swapped for a hot pink rhinestone suit. It was blinding. But he didn’t care, looking up arrogantly: “That one was too formal. This one feels more… reluctant.” “…” During dinner. My mom signaled me to put food in Julian’s bowl. I picked up a shrimp for him. The next second. He shoved the shrimp, shell and all, into his mouth, mumbling: “Since my fiancée served it, I’ll reluctantly eat it.” “…” He chewed up the shell and swallowed it. A moment later. He nudged my shoulder, looking shifty-eyed again. “Can you give me some more food? I feel like the food tastes better when you serve it.” 4 I didn’t understand, but I complied. I served food. He didn’t spit out shells. I poured water. He drank from the bowl. “Reluctantly doing this.” “Reluctantly doing that.” “I’ll reluctantly do this again!” After drinking an unknown number of cups of water I poured. My little sister, who had finally overcome her fear of the dragon fruit monster, slowly crept to my side. She carefully extended a pinky finger, pointing at the monster. Her round eyes widened, full of innocence. “Sister, is that a water buffalo?” The water buffalo himself froze mid-sip. Was it my imagination, or did Julian sound a bit choked up? “I’m going to the restroom.” A moment later. My sister, who had run off to play, sneakily ran back, pointing towards the bathroom. “Sister, I think the water buffalo is crying in there. Going ‘moo moo’.” “…” This marriage partner, Julian Sterling. It seems like he had a very high fever as a child. Every move he makes is baffling. After an afternoon of “reluctance,” I finally saw him off. Just as he reached the door, Julian seemed to remember something and whipped around. “Miss Hale, I forgot to introduce myself.” Does he need an introduction? The Sterlings are famous. “I am currently technically 23, virtually 24, swaying on 25, almost 26, immediately 27, soon to be 28, approaching 29, nearly 30! “I am much older than you!” What a way to calculate age. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Julian looked inexplicably nervous. Oh. I remembered. Before entering his house this morning, he seemingly said he wouldn’t marry a woman older than him. I didn’t expect him to explain it so tactfully. My face felt hot, and my heart skipped a beat. But fate didn’t seem to want to give him a chance to explain further. Maybe his vow not to marry me was too sincere. On our wedding day. While “reluctantly” on his way to pick me up. Julian actually got hit by a car.

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By day, I was just Julian Sterling’s executive assistant. By night, I took the private elevator straight to his penthouse suite. Julian was clingy. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, we did everything lovers do. But that didn’t stop the news from breaking: he was getting engaged to Layla Vance. When we discussed the breakup, Julian offered a lot of compensation: a luxury apartment in Manhattan, a villa in the Hamptons, and a historic townhouse in Georgetown… The only condition was that I could never resign from Sterling Corp. 1 The day Julian’s lawyer came to discuss the breakup, I was already irritable because my period was late. I tuned out most of her legalese, but the last sentence caught my attention. “As compensation, Mr. Sterling is gifting you a penthouse in Manhattan, a villa in the Hamptons, and a historic townhouse in Georgetown.” I was stunned. I knew Julian was rich—we’d been “together” for seven years—but I didn’t expect him to be this generous to a secret lover. The lawyer continued, “Ms. York, do you have any objections to these terms?” I shook my head vigorously. Only an idiot would say no to money like this. “Mr. Sterling has only one condition,” the lawyer added, looking puzzled. “He insists that you never resign from Sterling Corp. Can you… agree to that?” “Absolutely,” I said without hesitation. “Is the contract ready?” “Not yet. I’ll contact you when it’s drafted.” “Thank you.” I stood up to leave, but the lawyer, usually so professional and cold in her black suit, suddenly spoke up. “Wait, Ms. York. I have something personal to say.” “I’ve known Julian for over a decade. I’ve never seen him treat a woman like this.” “He has his responsibilities. Please don’t blame him.” “To Julian, you really are special.” I wanted to laugh. Instead, I patted her shoulder. “Don’t overthink it, Ms. Zhang. You really need to stop reading those romance novels on your phone.” 2 When I returned to the executive office, the buzz was all about the Chairman’s impending marriage to Layla Vance. Some said he’d waited years for her. Others claimed the rooftop hotel, “The Summit,” was designed just for her. I was listening with interest when the Chief of Staff stood up. “The boss is treating the whole company to bubble tea.” Whispers erupted immediately. “The boss drinks bubble tea?” “It must be Layla’s favorite. She’s visiting today. We’re just benefiting from it.” I shook my head internally. Nope. Julian loved the stuff. Even if he looked like a stoic statue while chewing on tapioca pearls. Amidst the noise, the Chief of Staff’s eyes landed on me. “Eva, go pick up the order for our team.” “I’m not feeling well today,” I said. Lately, I’d been unusually drowsy. “Don’t be a princess,” she scoffed. “If you don’t go, I’m putting your name first for the next overseas assignment.” As I stood up, a wave of dizziness hit me, and I nearly fell. “Are you okay? I can go,” my colleague Jenny offered worriedly. “I’m fine,” I smiled. “Just low blood sugar. Skipped breakfast.” 3 Carrying a massive bag of bubble tea back into the lobby, I spotted Julian immediately. He was surrounded by an entourage. It was hard to miss him. At 6’3″, his lean frame was wrapped in a bespoke black suit, the buttons done all the way up, revealing a perfectly knotted silver-grey tie. When Julian took over Sterling Corp, the media loved him. One headline read: “Smarter than the models, better looking than the scholars, and richer than God. His only flaw is he never smiles.” Whether in the office or on camera, Julian was always cold, serious, and impeccably dressed. But only I knew that the silver-grey tie he was wearing had once been used to blindfold me while I screamed until my voice gave out. Thinking about the breakup, I felt a twinge of regret. The food during our years together had been exceptional. A black Lincoln pulled up. Julian walked over and helped a graceful woman out of the car. “Layla.” I heard his deep voice. She looked up at him with tender eyes. “I just came to visit. You didn’t need to come down.” A golden couple. A match made in heaven. I stopped watching. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t sad. But thinking about the Manhattan penthouse, the Hamptons villa, and the Georgetown townhouse… I had to think of every tragedy in my life just to keep from laughing out loud. 4 Because the future Mrs. Sterling was visiting, the building was buzzing with excitement and gossip. I used the opportunity to slack off until 6:30 PM. Just as I was packing up, the Chief of Staff messaged me. “Ms. Vance wants to try on wedding dresses. The boss is in a meeting. Go with her.” I never expected my first time in a bridal shop would be with Julian’s fiancée. She tried on dress after dress, tireless. “Since you’ve been with Julian the longest, you should know what he likes.” My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my composure. “You are the one he loves. He’ll like whatever you wear.” Layla gave me a meaningful look. “You have a sweet mouth.” She yawned. “I’m tired. You try on the rest. I’ll just watch.” The staff drew the heavy curtains around me. Putting on the feather-light white gown, staring at myself in the mirror, I felt a moment of trance. But I didn’t expect that when I stepped out, Julian would be standing there. He looked like he’d rushed over, tired. When he saw me, his expression froze. “How is it?” Layla leaned into him, smiling. “Let’s use this one for the wedding.” “Nonsense,” Julian frowned, scolding me. “You’re here to help her, why are you wearing it?” “She looked like she wanted to, so I let her,” Layla explained. Julian looked like he wanted to say more, but his phone rang. He walked away to answer it. I sighed. “Ms. Vance’s face-changing skills are impressive.” Layla looked confused. “It’s just a dress, Ms. York. Why so serious?” She smiled, then added, “But coveting a dress is one thing. Coveting anything else would be laughable. Don’t you agree?” I realized then. Choosing me wasn’t a coincidence. Layla was here to mark her territory. But how did she know? No one in the company knew. “You worry too much,” I said smoothly. “Everyone knows you and the boss are childhood sweethearts. Now that his dreams are coming true, why would he care about anyone else?” I bowed slightly. “I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” Just then, Julian returned. Layla paled, looking at him anxiously. “Julian, I…” Julian glanced at her, then at me, and pointed at the door. “Get out!” “Yes, sir.” I obeyed instantly. I changed out of the dress and left. through the gap in the door, I saw Layla leaning into Julian’s chest, looking fragile. I mused. So that’s the type Julian likes.

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