Ten o’clock at night. On the dot. A delivery guy in a baseball cap knocked on the door of apartment 502. “Food delivery!” We were all roommates in a three-bedroom apartment. Ethan, the one we called Specs, opened the door. He had his headphones on, deep in some online game, and waved a dismissive hand. “Not mine.” Without another word, the delivery guy pulled out a knife and slashed his throat. Then, still holding the takeout bag, he pushed open the door to the next room. “Excuse me, did you order food?” Mark, the gym instructor who lived in that room, looked up, startled. “No, who are you—?” The delivery guy didn’t give him a chance to finish. The knife plunged straight into his heart. I had just finished my shower. The moment I opened the bathroom door, I saw the carnage. The floor was slick with blood. And the delivery guy was standing there, knife in hand. “It wasn’t them. So, was it you?” My mind went blank with terror. I shook my head, a reflex. “Not me, I don’t know anything…” I never finished the sentence. He hacked me to death in a flurry of strikes. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Five minutes before I was murdered. I burst out of the bathroom, my heart hammering against my ribs, and my eyes locked with the equally terrified gazes of my two roommates. I knew, without a doubt, we had all come back. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. A low, muffled male voice came from the other side. “Food delivery?” … The three of us stared at each other, our faces masks of pure, unadulterated fear and disbelief. Ethan was the first to react, snatching his phone to call the cops. But Mark clamped a hand over his. “With what evidence? What are we going to tell them?” “That we had a premonition someone was about to murder us?” The living room was spotless. No bodies, no blood. Not even a shadow of the delivery guy. Calling the police now would just get us flagged for a prank call. “The key is to figure out who ordered the food,” I said, forcing my voice to stay level. “He’s obviously after the person who placed the order.” Ethan immediately pulled up his delivery app and showed us his phone. “I haven’t ordered anything all week!” Mark took out his phone, displaying his own order history. “I’m on a strict meal plan. I cook everything myself.” I quickly opened my app, too. The most recent order was from three days ago—breakfast. I offered a guess. “Maybe it was a neighbor? Maybe they put in the wrong address?” We lived in an old building, just two apartments per floor. Our neighbors were an elderly couple. Mark shook his head. “Before I died last time, I saw the order sticker on the bag. The address was definitely 502.” The three of us began to eye each other. The atmosphere grew tense. Was one of us lying? “I swear, I didn’t order anything.” To prove my innocence, I handed my phone to them. “You can check. My payment history is all there.” Ethan and Mark swapped phones, checking each other’s records. There were no recent food delivery charges for any of us. “Then who could it be?” Ethan ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Suddenly, I thought of someone. Just as I was about to pull out my phone to make a call, we heard our landlady’s cheerful voice from the hallway. “Leo? Mark? Ethan? Are you boys home?” She always came by on the fifth of the month to collect rent. Today was the fifth, a weekday, which was why she was here so late. The color drained from our faces. We all held our breath. Then, that same muffled voice spoke again. “Excuse me, did you order the food?” Our landlady, Mrs. Gable, paused, turning around. “A delivery? No, that wasn’t me.” The words had barely left her mouth when the delivery guy raised his knife and swung it at the back of her neck. A gut-wrenching scream tore through the hallway as Mrs. Gable crumpled to the floor. We were frozen, shaking uncontrollably. Mrs. Gable had always been kind to us. She knew we were recent grads with little money, so she kept the rent low and often brought us homemade dishes. My fingers trembled as I fumbled for my phone. It took me several tries to dial 911. “Hello… police…” Before I could say more, there was a click. The lock on our door turned. The delivery guy pushed the door open and gave me a grotesque smile. “What do you think you’re doing?” Every hair on my body stood on end. Mrs. Gable, miraculously, struggled to her feet. She latched onto his leg, using her last ounce of strength to yell, “Run…!” The delivery guy, annoyed, stabbed her twice more, shaking her body off his leg. Then, knife in hand, he started walking toward us, one step at a time. Mark tried to rush him, to fight back, but he was cut down with a single, brutal stab. In the next instant, a searing pain exploded in my chest as the cold blade pierced through me. I burst out of the bathroom again. At the exact same moment, Mark burst out of his room. Ethan’s voice was choked with sobs. “It… it happened again?” “This is the second time,” Mark said, his brow furrowed, his expression grim. “We have to find a way out of this,” I gasped, collapsing onto the sofa. “We can’t let him kill us again.” We fell into a heavy silence, each of us replaying the two deaths, searching for a pattern. The delivery guy’s target was clearly the person who ordered the food. We were just collateral damage because we weren’t who he was looking for. But who was he looking for? “And another thing—he’s good,” Mark said suddenly. “I graduated with a degree in sports science, I’m in the gym every day, but I was no match for him. His movements are professional. Like he’s been trained.” Just then, the doorbell rang. That terrifying voice echoed through the door once more. “Food delivery?” I glanced at my watch. Mrs. Gable would be arriving in two minutes. “Quick, call her! Call Mrs. Gable!” Ethan’s fingers flew across his phone screen. “Hey, Mrs. Gable? It’s Ethan. Listen, all three of us have come down with a bad cold. We don’t want to get you sick. Could you maybe come by another day?” At the same time, I dialed the number I hadn’t been able to call last time. It was answered after two rings. “Chloe?” I asked, my voice tight with urgency. “Did you order food for me?” I could hear her smile on the other end. “You found out! It was a surprise to thank you for helping with those reports today. How did you know?” We found her. The three of us exchanged a look of relief. “Chloe, what’s your connection to the delivery guy?” I pressed. “Why is he so desperate to find you?” She paused, her tone shifting to confusion. “The delivery guy? I just placed the order a minute ago; the app hasn’t even assigned a driver yet.” “Leo, is everything okay?” It wasn’t her. Time was running out. I didn’t have a moment to explain. I hung up. “Oh no!” Ethan suddenly cried out. “Mrs. Gable replied!” He played the voice message. Her warm voice filled the room. “All three of you are sick? You must not have eaten, then. I just made a big pot of stew. I’ll bring some up for you boys. I’m already on the fifth floor.” Our faces went deathly pale. We were too late. Ding! The elevator doors opened. Mrs. Gable’s voice followed. “Oh, hello, young man. Are you here with a delivery?” Then came the familiar, muffled male voice. “Excuse me, are you the one who ordered the food?” We scrambled to the peephole. Mrs. Gable was standing right by the elevator, face-to-face with the delivery guy. This was exactly how she had died last time. We had hidden behind the door like cowards, watching as she died trying to save us. This time, I couldn’t let that happen. “Open the door,” I said, my voice firm. Ethan and Mark looked at me, stunned for a second, then nodded in agreement. Mark sprinted to the kitchen and came back with a fruit knife. Ethan grabbed a heavy mop handle. I yanked the door open. “Mrs. Gable, get in here! Quick!” Before she could process what was happening, Ethan had pulled her inside. Mark immediately tried to slam the door shut. But just as it was about to close, the delivery guy wedged his knee in the gap, forcing it open. He stepped inside, his eyes under the brim of his baseball cap scanning the four of us. “Who ordered the food?” This time, I stepped in front of Mark and Ethan. “I did. What do you want?” The delivery guy’s gaze settled on me. He didn’t immediately kill me. I had gambled correctly. He held out the takeout bag. “Valuable item. I need you to confirm it’s undamaged before I can leave.” I hesitated, then took the bag. It was impossibly light, weighing almost nothing. I unzipped it. And froze. Inside, there was nothing but a single, crumpled piece of paper. Before I could even read what was on it, he raised his knife and plunged it into my chest. As my consciousness faded, I heard him snarl, “Liar! It wasn’t you at all!” The third time I burst out of the bathroom, I collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air. Ethan and Mark stumbled out of their rooms a moment later, their faces even more haggard than before. “After he… after he killed you, he killed us all again.” Ethan’s voice was cracking. “Leo, you were holding the bag. What was in it? Why did you look so shocked?” Mark frowned. “It was empty. Then why did he insist you confirm its contents?” “It wasn’t empty,” I said, trying to steady myself, my mind a chaotic mess. “There was a note.” “A note? What did it say?” they asked in unison. I shook my head. “I didn’t get a chance to read it.” “Wait a minute,” Ethan said suddenly. “The first time, he asked who ordered the food, then killed all three of us. The second time, he didn’t even ask, he just killed us. The third time, even after you said you ordered it, he still killed us all…” “What if… what if he isn’t here to deliver food at all?” “What if he’s just here to kill us?” A chill went down my spine. “But why? None of us even know him.” Mark considered this. “Maybe he’s a hitman. I told you before, he’s had professional training.” I shook my head. “But who would go to all this trouble to kill us? There has to be a motive.” We fell silent again, racking our brains, trying to recall every detail from each loop. Then I remembered the note in the empty bag. Even though I hadn’t read it, an answer was beginning to form in my mind—an answer so bizarre I had to test it myself. I stood up. “This time, we can’t just wait for him to kill us.” “I’m going to confront him. I’m going to find out what he really wants.” Ethan grabbed my arm. “No, Leo, that’s insane! He has a knife!” “We’ll all go,” Mark added. “The three of us together might stand a chance.” “It’s useless,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s too skilled. You saw what happened last time, Mark. We’re no match for him.” I glanced at my watch. The doorbell would ring in one minute. “You two hide in your rooms. Don’t come out,” I instructed. “If something happens to me, you figure out another way.” They started to protest, but the doorbell cut them off. That muffled voice, again. “Food delivery?” I squared my shoulders, opened the door, slipped out, and pulled it shut behind me. The delivery guy stood there, cap pulled low, holding the same takeout bag. “I ordered it,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “Now what do you really want? The bag is empty, so what’s written on that note?” He seemed taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected me to be so direct. He said something strange. “You can’t be…” Then he lunged, the knife aimed at my chest. I was ready. I sidestepped the attack, grabbed the emergency wrench from the fire hose cabinet in the hall, and swung it hard at his wrist. The knife clattered to the floor. He recoiled in pain. I seized the opportunity, tackling him and pinning him against the wall with the wrench at his throat. “Talk! Why are you trying to kill us?” Just then, I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Walter, the new head of building security, appeared, stun baton in hand. A minute earlier, I had called security and asked him to come up. Walter was a retired martial arts instructor. With him here, we were safe. “Leo? What’s going on?” Walter looked alarmed. “I got your call and came right up. You got a burglar?” “Walter, he’s a murderer! Help me, call the police!” Relief washed over me, and my tense muscles began to relax. Walter immediately pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping across the screen. “Okay, okay, take it easy, I’m calling 911 right now…” But the next second, he jabbed the stun baton… right into me. An agonizing jolt shot through my body. My vision went black, and I collapsed. The delivery guy rubbed his wrist and slowly picked up his knife from the floor. “You… you know each other?” I stared at them in disbelief, blood from the back of my head trickling down my cheek. Just as the delivery guy’s knife was about to plunge into my chest, the apartment door flew open. Ethan and Mark charged out. Mark was holding a metal pipe, and he swung it with all his might, connecting with the delivery guy’s back. The man grunted in pain and turned to face him. “Leo, go!” Mark shouted, trying to hold him off. Ethan threw himself at Walter’s legs. “Leo, run! Don’t worry about us!” The delivery guy stabbed Mark in the shoulder, but Mark just gritted his teeth and held on. I watched, helpless, as Walter pinned Ethan against the wall, the stun baton crackling against his body. I watched as the delivery guy stabbed Mark again and again, his blood splattering across the white hallway walls. We were just roommates. We kept to ourselves, busy with our own lives. I never would have imagined that, in a life-or-death moment, they would lay down their lives to save me. The elevator doors chimed open. My escape was right there. But if I ran, the loop would end. They would stay dead. For real. Without a second thought, I scrambled up and threw myself in front of Mark, grappling with the delivery guy. His baseball cap was knocked off, revealing his face. I froze. I knew that face.

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“Mom, about the holiday trip… you and Dad should probably sit this one out.” My son’s words, spoken so casually after dinner, made my hands freeze where I was clearing the table. “What do you mean? Your father already paid the travel agency. It was ten thousand dollars.” His eyes darted away, his voice dropping. “Well, Jessie’s parents have never even been out of the state. We talked it over, and we want to take them to see the world a little.” A hot surge of anger rose in my chest. “Absolutely not. Your father has terminal liver cancer. His last wish is to take this one trip. If you want to bring Jessie’s parents, you and she can pay their way. Why should your father and I be the ones to stay home?” “Mom, my company had a terrible year. We didn’t even get a Christmas bonus. Where are we supposed to find that kind of money? Besides,” he added, his voice hardening, “Dad is sick. He should be at home resting, not putting himself through all that hassle.” I let out a cold, bitter laugh and pulled out my phone. “Hello, is this the travel agency? I’d like to cancel a booking.” 1 Daniel lunged and snatched the phone from my hand. “Mom, what are you doing? I’m trying to do what’s best for you!” I was shaking with rage. “What’s best for us? You’re taking our money to take your in-laws on vacation, and you call that what’s best for us?” A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “Mom, can you stop making everything about money? It’s not like your money isn’t going to be my money in the end anyway, right?” “And can you please be reasonable for a second? We finally get a break from work, and it’s already a pain to travel with our kid. You expect us to take care of a sick man on top of that? How is that a vacation?” His words were like ice in my veins. “You didn’t seem to care about being ‘reasonable’ when your father gave you fifty thousand dollars for your wedding, did you?” “Or when he paid the down payment on your luxury condo?” “But now that your father is sick, now you want to be reasonable?” A flush of shame colored Daniel’s cheeks. “Mom, why are you bringing that up? That’s different.” “Besides, isn’t that what parents are supposed to do? Every parent helps their son get started in life!” He said it with such entitlement that a sharp pain shot through my chest. Just then, my daughter-in-law, Jessie, came out of the bedroom holding our grandson, trying to smooth things over. “Mom, please don’t be angry.” “You know my parents have never had much. They’ve dreamed their whole lives of going to Washington D.C. to see the monuments. As their daughter, how could I say no?” Not wanting to scare the baby, I took a deep breath and softened my voice. “Jessie, I’m not against you honoring your parents. But you know your father-in-law’s condition. This might be his last trip. Ever.” “Originally, we were just going to go by ourselves to make it easy on you. But you two were the ones who insisted the whole family had to be together for the holidays, so your father booked for five. He’s been planning this for five months.” “We paid for everything, we did all the work, and now we don’t even get to go? Put yourself in our shoes. Wouldn’t you be angry?” Jessie didn’t answer. She just shot Daniel a look. He spoke up again. “Mom, you and Dad get to live with us in this beautiful condo, enjoying your retirement, while Jessie’s parents are stuck back in their small town. It’s just one trip. Why can’t you be a little more generous?” I snorted. “Enjoying our retirement? I’m your nanny, and your father is your housekeeper. Is that what you call enjoying retirement?” “We get a combined ten thousand a month in pensions. We give you five thousand for the mortgage, twenty-five hundred for groceries, and we’re constantly covering your extra expenses. Is that what you call enjoying retirement?” The more I spoke, the more the injustice stung. I paused, then continued, “If you want to treat her parents, you use your own money.” “And if your father and I can’t go, then nobody goes!” Seeing my resolve, Jessie’s eyes reddened as she played her final card. “Mom, you know my parents don’t have pensions, and Daniel and I haven’t gotten paid in months. We don’t have any extra money. Can’t you just find it in your heart to understand?” I untied my apron and threw it on the table. “Haven’t been paid in months, but you can still send your parents five hundred dollars every month?” Jessie’s family was not well off, and I knew she secretly sent them money. My husband and I had always pretended not to know. Her face went pale with panic. That’s when my son lost his last shred of patience. “Mom, can you stop being so selfish? Is this tiny little thing really worth tearing the whole family apart?” “You know what, Jessie was right. You just look down on her parents! You’re a snob, and you can’t stand your poor relatives!” My chest heaved, my face burning with fury. At that moment, my husband, Robert, walked out of the bedroom. “That’s enough,” he said softly. “Stop fighting. We’ll all go. I’ll pay for the extra tickets.” “No!” Daniel and Jessie said in unison. “Dad, what if your condition gets worse? What if you die on us out there?” Daniel blurted out. The air in the room froze. I stared at him, utterly incredulous. Even my husband, always so mild-mannered, turned ashen, his breathing ragged. A guilty look flickered across Daniel’s face. “Well… it’s true. Dad, just… don’t come and be a burden to us.” The next thing I knew, my hand had flown across his face in a sharp slap. “Daniel, you apologize to your father. Now!” But he was past the point of reason. He jutted out his chin defiantly. “I’m just telling the truth. We’ve spent so much money on Dad’s illness. Consider this trip our compensation!” Robert clutched his chest, his voice trembling. “The money for my treatment came from our savings. What do we need to compensate you for?” I rushed to his side, rubbing his back to help him breathe. “Your savings were supposed to be for me, weren’t they? Now it’s all gone on your medical bills. What’s going to happen to our family?” “Cancer is a death sentence anyway. In the end, we’ll be left with nothing—no father and no money,” Daniel complained, while Jessie stood by his side, looking equally aggrieved. So that was it. They had been stewing over the cost of Robert’s treatment for a long time. The trip was just an excuse to let it all out. “You… you…” Robert’s lips trembled, his face a ghostly white. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. “Robert, don’t scare me!” “Quick! Call 911!” ________________________________________ This is a tipping point in the story. Continue reading to see how a mother’s love turns into a lesson her son will never forget. ________________________________________ I followed the ambulance to the hospital. Looking at my husband, so thin and frail on the bed, I wept silently. I couldn’t understand how we could work our fingers to the bone for our son and his family, only to be treated like this. As I was sobbing, Robert woke up. “Alright, stop crying. Just let them have their way. Your son has a point… in my condition, I probably shouldn’t be traveling.” I wiped my tears. “Why should we? You’re his father. How could he treat you like that?” “Robert, let’s go back to our old place. Let’s just live by ourselves. I don’t want you to spend your final days being treated this way.” He managed a weak smile. “I don’t have much time left. It doesn’t matter how they treat me. I’m worried about you. If we really fall out with him, what will you do when you’re all alone?” His words caught in my throat. After a moment, he continued, “It’s fine. The trip leaves the day after Christmas. This way, the whole family can have a happy holiday together.” I didn’t want to cause him any more distress, so I finally nodded. “Okay. We’ll check out tomorrow and go get groceries for Christmas dinner.” The next day, Robert and I came home, our arms full of shopping bags, only to find our suitcases sitting by the front door. We pushed the door open. Inside, it was a scene of domestic bliss. “Dad, Mom. You’re back?” Daniel’s face was a mask of panic as he walked toward us. “My in-laws are here. There isn’t enough room, so… maybe you and Dad could stay in a hotel for a few days?” I was so furious I nearly threw the groceries at him. Jessie rushed over, taking the bags from my hands but blocking our way inside. “Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry to put you out. But my parents don’t visit often. Please, just try to understand.” Rage was boiling inside me, but Robert gripped my arm. “It’s no problem,” he said calmly. “It just means your mother will have a lot of work to do for Christmas dinner.” As he said this, Jessie tugged on Daniel’s sleeve. Daniel hesitated, then gritted his teeth. “Dad, this is our first Christmas in the new house. Your… sickness… it’s bad luck. You and Mom should just celebrate somewhere else.” With that, they quickly shut the door in our faces. My anger exploded. I pounded on the door. “Daniel, have you lost your soul?!” Robert pulled me away, and we left with our luggage. Downstairs on the street, I couldn’t stop the tears. But Robert was strangely calm. “Let’s sell the condo,” he said. I stared at him, stunned. “But… isn’t the deed in their names?” “Before we bought it,” Robert said quietly, “just in case, I had them sign a nominee agreement. It states that we provided all the funds, and they are only holding the property in their name. The condo is, in fact, ours.” “Perhaps I was wrong all along,” he continued, his voice heavy. “I thought raising a son would mean having support in our old age. Now I see the only things you can truly rely on are money and your own health.” “We can’t count on our son anymore. I have to make sure you’re provided for.” He took my hand, and we walked slowly down the street, finally stopping in front of a five-star hotel. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve scrimped and saved our entire lives. It’s time we lived a little.” My eyes welled up again. I squeezed his hand, and we walked inside. The next morning, Robert and I went to a real estate agent and listed the condo. Afterward, we went to the supermarket. The hotel suite had a kitchen; even if it was just the two of us, we were going to have a proper Christmas. On Christmas Eve, as we were making dinner, my son’s mother-in-law sent me a photo. “My son-in-law is so wonderful! He didn’t want me to get tired cooking, so he took us out for a huge seafood feast. Look at this spread, it cost over two thousand dollars! More than we can eat. Too bad you’re not here.” The picture showed a table laden with king crab, abalone, sea cucumber, and giant lobsters. I didn’t reply. I just arranged our freshly cooked meal on a nice plate, took a photo, and posted it to my social media. “Christmas Eve for two in a five-star hotel. Sometimes, simple is best!” A minute later, my phone rang. It was Daniel. “Mom, it’s Christmas. Do you have to be like this?” “How are we supposed to face anyone after you post something like that? All our friends and family will think we’re ungrateful monsters! Delete it, now!” I scoffed. “What we do has nothing to do with you.” “You had the nerve to kick your own parents out of the house. Are you really worried about being called a monster now?” I hung up and turned off my phone.

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My wife and I were escorting top-secret research data back to the States. But as we were about to board the plane, she told me she’d left an important file back at the hotel and that I should go on ahead. I smiled and watched her get into a cab, then turned and opened the location sharing app on my phone. She wasn’t going back to the hotel. She had changed her route and was heading to a villa in the suburbs. I hailed a cab and followed her. Standing at the gate of the villa was a man, holding a child. “Honey, you’re finally back,” he said. “Your daughter and I missed you so much.” Sarah took the child from him, then stood on her toes and pressed a long, deep kiss to his lips. “I missed you guys like crazy,” she said. “Home is wherever you two are.” Just then, I got a call from Homeland Security, asking why I hadn’t boarded the plane on time. I looked at the couple embracing not far from me, and my voice was cold as ice. “Because Dr. Sarah Chen, Deputy Director of the Advanced Satellite Research Institute, is colluding with foreign agents and selling state secrets.” “I’m requesting immediate military assistance to apprehend her.” 1. Not long after I hung up, Sarah’s phone rang. I don’t know what was said, but the smile vanished from her face, replaced by a flicker of panic. She quickly handed the child back to the man, whose name was Evan, and rushed to leave. Evan, confused, grabbed her hand. “Honey, where are you going? I thought you were spending the night with me and our daughter.” But Sarah was in no mood to explain. She shook him off and got in her car, speeding back to the airport. When she found out that I hadn’t boarded the plane either, she started calling me frantically. I ignored her calls. Instead, I sat ramrod straight, facing two agents from Homeland Security. The lead agent, a man named Miller, looked at me sternly. “Mr. Zhang, the allegations you’re making are extremely serious. If they’re found to be false, you will face legal consequences.” I nodded, my expression grim. “Agent Miller,” I said, my voice steady, “I stand by every word. My wife, Sarah, and I were tasked with one mission: to bring this core technology back to the U.S. One night, I forgot to shut down my laptop. The webcam happened to record her putting a sleeping pill in my milk. After I was asleep, she snuck out of the hotel.” “That’s how I found out she’d been leaving every night, going to the suburbs, and not coming back until dawn.” I placed a flash drive on the table. “This contains the video from my laptop and a record of Sarah’s movements every night after she left the hotel.” Miller exchanged a look with the other agent. “So, is the core technology in her possession right now?” I nodded, then shook my head. “To prevent a security breach, we each took half of the data. I can guarantee that no one but me has seen my half. But I can’t say the same for Sarah.” Miller’s breath hitched. He grabbed the flash drive and stood up. “Mr. Zhang, we need to verify the information and evidence you’ve provided. In the meantime, you cannot leave this room. I hope you understand.” I nodded calmly. Back at the airport, Sarah was in a full-blown panic. She couldn’t reach me. She decided to go back to the hotel to find me. But as she stepped out of the terminal, she was surrounded by a dozen heavily armed tactical officers. The black muzzles of their rifles were all aimed at her head. The color drained from her face, and she nearly collapsed. “Dr. Sarah Chen? You need to come with us.” Before she could speak, two officers had her arms pinned behind her back, and she was being bundled into an armored vehicle. She was taken back to the embassy. I turned my head just in time to lock eyes with her. Her pupils contracted. Then she let out a furious roar. “Alex! What the hell is wrong with you?” “I’m your wife! How could you do this to me?” I said nothing, just stared at her with cold indifference. My wife? Half an hour ago, she was kissing another man, calling him her husband. If she truly considered me her husband, she wouldn’t have gone abroad while I was on a classified research assignment and given birth to her lover’s child. Whether she was actually selling state secrets didn’t matter to me. All I knew was that I wanted revenge for the humiliation she had put me through. The game was on. 2. It took less than thirty minutes for Miller to find Evan, and to discover that Sarah had borne him an illegitimate daughter. Miller returned with a file and sat down across from me again. “Mr. Zhang, how much do you know about your wife’s affair? Are you reporting her as an act of revenge?” His eyes were sharp, probing. I tightened my grip on my teacup, but my expression remained calm, my voice even. “I did know about the affair. But I would never jeopardize my career for revenge.” “I discovered something was wrong while I was gathering evidence of her infidelity.” “What was wrong?” “Her lover is a foreign national, with deep overseas connections.” Of course, I hadn’t discovered this myself. Evan, in a fit of arrogant provocation, had told me himself. His sudden appearance in my life had shattered all my illusions about love and family. Miller’s brow furrowed. “And based on that alone, you concluded she was colluding with foreign agents and selling state secrets?” My eyes reddened, and a tremor entered my voice, a carefully crafted mix of grief and pain. “Agent Miller, I didn’t want to air my dirty laundry, but with national security at stake, I couldn’t keep silent.” “Everyone thinks Sarah had a miscarriage. But the truth is, I saw their chat logs. She intentionally aborted my child for her lover. Then, while I was away on assignment, she went abroad to be with him and gave birth to their daughter.” My story was a mix of truth and lies. I had seen their chat logs, but by then, she had already miscarried. I said what I said to focus their attention on those messages. As I expected, Miller immediately asked, “What was in the chat logs?” “Besides the usual lover’s talk, he was constantly asking her about her work.” I paused for effect. “My maternal grandfather was the first director of the NSA, and my paternal grandfather also worked for the agency. Growing up around them, I’ve become sensitive to certain things.” Miller looked at me with surprise. This was my trump card. With my family’s legacy backing me up, who would dare question my motives? When Miller spoke again, his tone was much more respectful. “Mr. Zhang, rest assured, we will investigate this thoroughly. We will not wrongly accuse an innocent person, but we will not let a guilty one go free, especially not one who threatens the security of our nation.” I nodded and added a subtle hint. “Sarah has probably deleted the chat logs, but she has an encrypted folder that even I can’t access. You might find what you’re looking for in there.” Not long after Miller left, there was another commotion outside the conference room. Evan had been “invited” to the embassy for a little chat. His eyes were wide with terror. When he saw me, he lunged, a wild look on his face. The tactical officers restrained him, but he kept screaming at me. “Alex, you bastard! What have you done to us?” A smirk played on my lips. “Nothing. I’m just returning the favor. For what you and Sarah did to me. And to my child.” “Oh, and by the way, didn’t she say that home is wherever you are? I’m just helping to make that a reality for you.” The color drained from Evan’s face. It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did, it was a shriek. “You monster!” “No wonder no one loves you!” “No wonder Sarah couldn’t even stand to have you touch her!” A month ago, his words would have cut me to the quick. But now, the more they raged, the more pleased I was. It meant they were scared.

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To me, Karen was never the false heiress who stole my life. She was my baby sister, my closest friend. When our parents refused to acknowledge me, she knelt in the chapel until her knees bled, just to get me into the family tree. When I was bullied at school, she slapped the ringleader Stanton so hard his face swelled—trembling with fear, yet forcing a smile to comfort me. Even the family fortune, she refused a cent, insisting it all be mine. Then she brought Ethan into my life. Seen as the perfect match, he taught me etiquette, helped me into a top university, and shaped me into a true heiress. On my graduation day, he proposed, vowing to care for me forever. They were two flames, warming what I’d thought was a hopeless life. Until the day I came home from the hospital and saw them through our half-open bedroom door. Ethan had her pressed against the wall, voice trembling. “Why make me marry her? You know I’ve always loved you.” Karen didn’t struggle. She only wept. “Please… don’t hurt Elara. We’re all she has now.” Outside, tears and blood soaked the medical report in my hand: 【PROGNOSIS: LESS THAN ONE MONTH TO LIVE.】 And suddenly, I laughed. How perfect. It seemed even Death could grant a wish. 1 Thud! A wave of dizziness from the blood loss sent me stumbling, and I slammed hard against the doorframe. The medical report I was clutching scattered across the floor. As I scrambled to pick up the pages, the door was yanked open from the inside. Karen’s face, still streaked with fresh tears, went pale with shock when she saw the blood pouring from my nose. “Elara! What happened? Why are you bleeding so much?” I wiped my nose clumsily with the back of my hand, forcing my lips into what I hoped was a natural smile. “It’s nothing. I was staring at my phone and walked right into the door.” Karen knelt, using her own sleeve to gently clean my face, her voice a mix of concern and scolding. “How can you be so careless? Does it hurt?” “Let me help you up. We’ll have the family doctor take a look at you later, just to make sure it’s not…” Her words caught in her throat. Behind her, Ethan’s gaze had fallen to the papers on the floor. His brow furrowed as he reached for one. “What’s this?” My head whipped around. The medical report! No! Panic seized me. I practically dove forward, snatching the paper from his grasp. My voice was shrill, unrecognizable. “It’s nothing!” My outburst startled them both. Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air, his eyes fixed on the paper I now held in a death grip. Luckily, the most damning information was blurred into an illegible red smudge. I struggled to compose myself, stuffing the report into my pocket. “It’s just the flu, and I’m a bit run down,” I lied, my voice still shaky. “The doctor gave me some medicine.” “You know how it is, the air is so dry in the winter, it gives me nosebleeds. You two should be careful as well!” Ethan studied me for a few seconds, the suspicion in his eyes slowly fading. But then he asked, his voice cautious, “Elara, you were just at the door… You didn’t happen to hear anything, did you?” I could feel Karen’s fingers tighten on my arm. I knew what they were afraid of. It didn’t matter. Even knowing the truth, I could never blame them. This life, this happiness… it was all borrowed. But my eyes still burned, and I had to fight back tears. I tilted my head back, trying my best to look innocent and confused. “Hear what? I was too busy having a fight with the doorframe. It hurt so much I was seeing stars. What’s going on?” Ethan visibly relaxed. Karen’s whole body seemed to sag with relief. She helped me inside. “Nothing. Ethan and I were just talking about your wedding.” “Come on, let’s get that bleeding stopped.” Ethan nodded and moved to close the door. But just as it was about to click shut— Bang! A hand, all sharp knuckles and lean fingers, shot through the gap, forcing the door open. Stanton’s defiant face appeared in the opening. He yelled right at me, “Elara, what the hell? Why’d you run when you saw me at the oncology department?” My heart sank. I’m screwed. 2 I had run into Stanton at the hospital, but I was wearing a mask. My first instinct upon seeing someone I knew was to bolt. I never imagined he would recognize me, let alone follow me home. Ethan moved to block him, but Stanton just shoved past him. He strode right up to me, his eyes scanning my panicked face. He fumbled in his pocket and then roughly pressed a lipstick into my hand, his tone as sharp as gravel. “Your stuff falls out of your pocket and you don’t even notice? I was yelling your name, are you deaf?” A lipstick? I stared at it, confused. I looked down at the tube in my palm. I’d never owned this shade in my life. But I grabbed the lifeline he’d thrown me. I forced a laugh. “I’m so sorry, Stanton! I wasn’t feeling well, so I was in a rush.” “I honestly didn’t hear you. Thanks so much for bringing it all the way back.” For once, Stanton’s expression was serious. He looked me up and down, as if he wanted to say more. But in the end, all he did was let out a derisive snort. With his usual arrogance, he drawled, “Funny, isn’t it? The big sister goes to the hospital, and her fiancé hangs out with the little sister all day…” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out. The air crackled with a sudden, awkward tension. I jumped in immediately, trying to smooth things over. “That idiot Stanton, he’s had it in for me since we were kids. Every time he sees me, he just has to say something to stir up trouble between us. Don’t listen to him.” “Next time I see his father, I’m definitely telling on him again.” Worried they’d dwell on it, I caught sight of the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, bringing dishes to the dining room. I grabbed Ethan’s sleeve with one hand and looped my other arm through Karen’s, physically breaking the suffocating silence. “Oh, that smells amazing! Let’s eat!” “Looks like Mrs. Gable went all out today. I’ve been so busy, I’m absolutely starving!” It was a lie. At this stage of my illness, hunger was a distant memory. I couldn’t even taste my food anymore. But my little performance worked, and the atmosphere returned to something resembling normal. At the dinner table, I mechanically moved food to my mouth. It tasted like ash. Across from me, Karen’s face lit up as if she’d just remembered something. She put down her fork excitedly. “Elara, I got a ton of fireworks for the backyard!” “Can we go set them off after dinner?” I shook my head gently. In my condition, I’d collapse before the first firework even left the ground. “Not tonight, Karen. I’m feeling a little drained, and the medicine I took earlier is making me sleepy. I think I’m going to turn in early.” “Ethan, you should go with her.” The conversation shifted seamlessly to Ethan. They started talking about the brand of fireworks, which somehow led to a trip down memory lane. “Oh, Ethan, do you remember that time at grandpa’s birthday party? We snuck out to light fireworks and ended up setting the drapes on fire. We were so scared we hid in a closet for the entire afternoon!” Ethan looked up, his eyes shining with a vibrant light I had never seen directed at me. “How could I forget? We only got caught because you couldn’t stop sneezing.” “Hey! It was your fault for hiding us in the closet that reeked of mothballs.” “My fault? Who was it that grabbed a sparkler and insisted on pretending it was a rocket launch? Don’t play innocent now, Miss Future Architect.” … They went back and forth, weaving a tapestry of memories I had no part in. I sat between them, feeling a deep, chilling ache in my bones, like I was being slowly flayed alive. Thankfully, Karen was too excited to sit still for long. Before dinner was even over, she was dragging Ethan out to the backyard. Claiming exhaustion, I went upstairs to the master bedroom. Standing before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, I watched the yard light up, bright as day. Karen ran around like a little kid, while Ethan stood a few feet behind her, relaxed, his eyes following her every move. A firework screamed into the night sky, illuminating their joyful faces. Karen spun around, laughing, and seemed to spot me in the window. She waved enthusiastically. “Elara, look! Isn’t it beautiful?” I immediately plastered on the brightest smile I could manage, waved back with all my might, then pressed my hands together by my cheek in a gesture for sleep. They nodded, and I drew the curtains closed. The moment I turned away, I staggered into the bathroom and began to vomit violently, the pain causing my body to curl into a ball. I slid down the cold tile wall to the floor. Acting on pure instinct, I crawled toward the nightstand, my trembling hand fumbling for my bottle of painkillers. I didn’t bother counting. I dry-swallowed a dozen of them. Grabbing the edge of the curtain for support, I tried to pull myself up. But in doing so, I accidentally opened a small gap. And I saw it. Ethan and Karen were kissing.

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The true Sterling heiress came home. As the family’s long-standing impostor, things got awkward, fast. So I packed my bags that night and moved back to the godforsaken, 18th-tier town where I was supposed to have been born. I transferred to the local high school. Staring down at my designer coat, now ruined by a splash of milk tea, I let out a soft sigh. I pulled up the purchase history on my phone and displayed my payment QR code. “Seven thousand five hundred dollars. Pay up.” 1. Emma Sterling was home. I was still in my silk pajamas, sleepily making my way downstairs, when I saw her—a girl who was the spitting image of my mother. She stood there in a washed-out blouse, flanked by my parents. My brother, who was studying abroad, had already texted saying he couldn’t wait to fly back. I paused on the staircase, my eyes meeting Emma’s across the foyer. We both offered a smile that was polite, but dripping with mutual awkwardness. I’d always known I wasn’t their biological daughter. The Sterlings weren’t fools; our blood types didn’t even match. But since they could never find Emma, they had kept me and raised me as their own. I treated them like my real parents, and they showered me with the love and affection a daughter deserves. But all those years, the search for Emma never stopped. And now, finally, she was home. Looking at the scene of their family reunion below, I was genuinely happy for them. That evening, I went to the study to talk with my parents. Emma’s adoptive parents—my biological ones—had died in a car accident years ago. They had been poor, but they had given Emma the best life they could. The baby swap had been a tragic hospital error. My parents insisted I stay. “This house is more than big enough for a hundred daughters,” my father had said. But I shook my head. “That’s really up to Emma, isn’t it? If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t want the girl who took my place hanging around.” “Besides,” I added, “I’ve lived her life for long enough. She deserves to come home without any complications. And honestly, I want to see the place where my real parents lived.” My mother sighed, her hand resting on my shoulder. I gave her a comforting hug. “It’s just for a year. I’m a junior now. I’ll definitely come back to the Capital for college,” I whispered. “If Emma doesn’t mind by then, I’ll come home.” They finally, silently, agreed. So that night, I dragged eight suitcases out of the Sterling mansion. I wasn’t some noble martyr, leaving with only the clothes on my back. I took everything that was mine: my belongings, the allowance I’d saved for years, and a generous sum for tuition and living expenses my adoptive parents gave me before I left. I promptly rented a small, standalone villa in the best part of town. Since I was still a minor, I brought Mr. Evans, my favorite of the household staff, with me. He handled all the tedious paperwork for the lease and my school enrollment. Lying in my new bed, I felt surprisingly optimistic as I mapped out a rough plan for my future. I sent my parents a quick text to let them know I was safe, and then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 2. Clearwater High was the only decent school in this small town, a place untouched by airports or high-speed rail. I followed the dean of students down the hallway, my designer heels clicking sharply against the linoleum. It was break time, and eyes from every direction shot toward me. In a school this small, gossip travels faster than light. By the time I sat down, my new deskmate was already staring. “Where are you from? Why aren’t you in uniform? Is that stuff you’re wearing real?” she fired off, her words tumbling out in a rush that sounded almost aggressive. Before I could answer, the homeroom teacher’s voice cut through the noise, his accent thick as he called me to the front of the class for an introduction. I walked to the blackboard and, with a practiced, polite smile, wrote my name: Isabelle Sterling. “Hi, everyone. I’m Isabelle Sterling. I just transferred from Capital Prep. It’s nice to meet you all.” The classroom erupted in whispers. “The Capital? No way.” “Damn, she looks loaded. We should totally try to hang with her.” “It’s gotta be fake. If she were that rich, she’d be in the honors class, not with us losers.” “She’s kinda pretty, I guess. Is that makeup? There’s something about her I just don’t like.” I let my gaze drift lazily across the room, spotting the few faces I was looking for. Satisfied, I returned to my seat. The show, I thought, was about to begin. 3. First period was English. I rested my chin on my hand, bored, as I scanned the textbook. For me, English was practically a second native language, thanks to the world-class education the Sterlings had provided. High school level stuff was a joke. A flicker of concern crossed my mind. I wondered how Emma was adjusting to life at the mansion. My thoughts were interrupted when my deskmate shot to her feet and began reading a passage from the textbook. I snapped back to reality, realizing the teacher was calling on students. This girl, the one who’d interrogated me, was now reading aloud. I glanced at the name on her book. Leah. Leah read loudly and correctly, earning a nod of approval from the teacher, who then asked her to lead the class in reading the passage together. A small smile touched her lips, bringing a bit of life to her pale, sallow cheeks. She held her book up, shooting me a quick, triumphant glance. It was a look of pure, smug pride. She began reading again, and the rest of the class followed along in a disorganized mumble. The other students’ voices quickly faded into a low hum, but Leah’s remained loud and forceful. Even though, to my ears, her pronunciation was painfully clumsy. At one particularly bad mispronunciation, a small laugh escaped me. I didn’t make a sound or even look at her; I just kept my head propped on my hand, my eyes on the book, as the corner of my mouth turned up. But Leah, who must have been watching me the whole time, suddenly stopped. “Isabelle Sterling!” she barked. “Why aren’t you reading?” I frowned. Plenty of others weren’t reading, but she’d singled me out. I looked up at her. Behind her glasses, her dark eyes were fixed on me, her sallow face contorted in an ugly sneer. The teacher chimed in. “New student, you need to participate. Why don’t you read this section for us?” My smile widened. Without even looking at the book, I recited the entire passage in fluent, unaccented American English. A slow, creeping silence fell over the classroom. Even the teacher just stood there, his mouth slightly agape, at a loss for words. When I finished, I shrugged and looked directly at Leah. “The reason I wasn’t reading along is because my pronunciation was better in kindergarten than yours is now.” Leah’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. She bit her lip, unable to meet my eyes. Just then, the bell rang, and the teacher, visibly relieved, dismissed the class. A moment later, a clique of girls with over-styled bangs and uniform cherry-red lipstick sauntered over to my desk. The leader, sucking on a lollipop, gave me a syrupy-sweet smile. “So, hey, what’s a girl like you doing at a school like this?” I kept my eyes on my book. “Felt like a change of scenery.” The girl made a ‘tsk’ sound and jabbed my shoulder with her finger. “Don’t play coy with me.” My patience snapped. I smacked her hand away. I’d taken taekwondo for years, and the force of the blow left a bright red mark on the back of her hand. “What the hell! Are you looking for a fight?” she shrieked, and her little posse moved in, ready to shove me. I pulled a scalpel from my pocket, spun it between my fingers, and stopped the blade a centimeter from her eye. She let out a terrified scream. Her friends, and even Leah nearby, scrambled backward, afraid I’d actually slice them. I retracted the scalpel, a cryptic smile playing on my lips as I gave the girl a slow, deliberate head-to-toe look. Her expression soured with every inch my eyes traveled. I’d navigated the cutthroat social circles of the elite for years; dealing with a low-level wannabe like her was child’s play. A single, contemptuous glance was all it took to shatter their fragile confidence. I fanned the air in front of my face with a look of disgust. “You reek of stale cigarettes and cheap perfume. Stay away from me, you’re making me nauseous.” The whole class was watching, and at my words, a wave of laughter broke out. “Oh my god, that was brutal. Did you see Brooke’s face?” “Is anyone gonna be able to handle this new girl?” “Not gonna lie, watching her put Brooke in her place was pretty satisfying, hahaha.” “Shh, you know Brooke’s gonna get her back for this. Just wait…” So her name was Brooke. I met her furious gaze, taking in every ounce of hatred and rage in her eyes. So, what have you got, Brooke? I thought. Show me. 4. The next few days were relatively quiet. My little display seemed to have spooked both Brooke and Leah. Leah no longer tried to talk to me, though I noticed she would sneak glances at the advanced prep books I used in class and then show up the next day with the exact same ones. She started mimicking my study habits—or lack thereof. When I worked on my own material instead of listening to the lecture, so did she. The truth was, I’d been privately tutored by the best in every subject since I was a child. The curriculum here was painfully slow for me, so I worked ahead. This method worked for me, but for Leah, it was academic suicide. Not that I felt any obligation to warn her. I shook my head, deciding to ignore her, and headed downstairs to grab a coffee from the convenience store. Since my uniform hadn’t arrived yet, I was still in my own clothes—today, a Louis Vuitton coat. The stares followed me all the way down the hall, but I walked on as if I didn’t notice. I didn’t even make it to the store. A group blocked my path. It was Brooke and her friends, plus a few guys with bleached-blond hair who looked like they were trying way too hard. Brooke stood with her arms crossed, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. This part of the campus was shielded by a grove of trees and a dilapidated sports equipment shed. The perfect spot for an ambush. She smirked. “I told you not to mess with me. Get it now?” One of the guys grabbed my coat, trying to drag me somewhere more secluded. I was surprised by their brazenness, but it made a sick kind of sense. In a backwater town like this, a little bit of local influence and the shield of being a minor meant they could get away with almost anything. Their victims were usually kids from working-class families, too busy or powerless to fight back effectively. I looked at the boy holding me. His hair was a matted yellow mess, and the stench of cigarettes coming off him was nauseating. I wrenched my arm free and slapped him across the face. Crack! The sound was sharp and loud in the quiet clearing. Everyone froze, stunned that I would dare to fight back. Brooke’s face contorted with fury. She started screaming a torrent of local slang I couldn’t understand, her eyes, framed by cheap colored contacts, boring into me. Realizing she probably couldn’t win a physical fight, she snatched a milk tea from one of her friends and hurled it at me. I dodged, but most of the sticky liquid splattered across my coat. I looked down at the ruined fabric. With a small sigh, I pulled out my phone, brought up the digital receipt, and held out my QR code. “Seven thousand five hundred dollars. Pay up.” I heard a collective gasp. A flicker of panic crossed Brooke’s face before she masked it with bravado. “You think I’m gonna pay? In your dreams,” she spat. “What are you gonna do about it?” The boy I’d slapped was already moving, pulling out a small knife and waving it threateningly in my direction. I wasn’t an idiot. I spun around and ran. At the same time, a group of figures in blue uniforms came running toward me. The police. The moment I’d seen the ambush forming, I had discreetly texted 911 from my pocket. An officer saw the kid with the knife lunging at me. In seconds, they had him pinned, his arms twisted behind his back. The sight sent the rest of the wannabe gangsters scattering, which, in front of the police, was a spectacularly bad idea. An hour later, the entire group was lined up at the police station. The whole affair was a massive scandal. A fleet of police cars descending on the high school and hauling away a dozen students was not good for the school’s reputation. The principal and several deans rushed over. Brooke was sobbing into her phone, talking to her parents. From what I could piece together, her father was some kind of minor local official. It all clicked. No wonder she was so arrogant. When Brooke’s father arrived, he shot me a dark look before pulling the police officers aside. A few minutes later, one of the officers came back to me, looking apologetic. He explained that since Brooke and her friends hadn’t caused me any “substantial harm,” they could only be given a verbal warning. The boy with the knife was a minor and his “assault” was unsuccessful, so the most he’d get was a couple of days in juvenile detention. I heard the principal let out a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was one of his students getting jail time and tarnishing the school’s name. I looked at the scene before me: Brooke, now smirking triumphantly; her father, glowering at me; the principal and my homeroom teacher, just wanting to smooth things over… So this is the world Emma lived in for seventeen years. It must have been so hard, little sister. It’s okay, I thought, a quiet promise forming in my mind. It’s okay now. Every bit of suffering they put you through, I’ll pay them back for it, piece by piece.

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I’d sold the house, ready to fly to Canada and join my daughter. The day before I was set to leave, Mrs. Gable from downstairs asked me to help carry a new fifty-pound bag of rice up to her apartment. I was breathless by the time I reached her door, just as her daughter-in-law, Sarah, was getting home from work. She saw me, froze for a second, and then quickly pulled me aside. She shoved a folded piece of paper into my hand, her eyes wide with panic, and urged me to leave. Confused, I unfolded the note. It contained a single, terrifying sentence: “Your daughter died in a car crash last month. The person you’re talking to is an imposter!” In that instant, my world plunged into an icy abyss. The plane ticket in my pocket felt like a shard of frozen steel. 1 A roar filled my head, something inside me shattering as my vision went white. The world fell silent, replaced by the frantic, deafening drum of my own heart against my ribs. A prank. It had to be a sick prank by some bored, cruel person. My daughter, Emily, my only child—it was impossible. Just yesterday, we’d been on a video call. She was smiling, telling me how brilliant the Canadian maples were, how warm and cozy she’d made the room she’d prepared for me. My hand, clutching the note, was trembling violently. The flimsy piece of paper felt as heavy as lead. I had to know. Now. My fingers, moving with a will of their own, unlocked my phone. I found the number I had pinned to the top of my contacts, the one labeled “My Emmy,” and started a video call. Every second of the ringing tone was an agony, stripping my nerves bare. She answered. The screen lit up. A familiar face appeared against a dim background, the connection spotty and the image pixelated. It was my daughter’s face, her eyes curved into a gentle smile, though she looked pale and tired. “Mom? What’s up?” Her voice on the other end held the perfect measure of concern, laced with an almost imperceptible weariness. “Are you exhausted from all the packing? I told you, don’t bring any of that old stuff. I’ll buy you all new things when you get here.” My throat felt like it was clogged with cement. I couldn’t form a single word. I stared, desperate, at the face on the screen, searching for a single flaw, any sign that this wasn’t her. There was nothing. It was the face I had watched for thirty years, a face I knew better than my own. “Mom? Say something. You’re scaring me.” “…It’s nothing.” The words scraped their way out of my throat, dry and rough as sandpaper. “I’m just… just going to miss this old house.” I forced a smile that felt more painful than a sob. The “daughter” on the screen seemed to sense my unease. Her smile faded, and her tone sharpened. “Mom, this is no time for that. The ticket is booked. I’ve arranged for the lawyer and the doctor here in Canada. We need to get the paperwork sorted and get you a full check-up as soon as you arrive.” “You have to be at the airport on time tomorrow, do you hear me? Don’t mess this up.” A lawyer? A doctor? She’d never mentioned any of that before. A cold, commanding tone I’d never heard from her sliced through the screen. “Okay… I know.” I numbly ended the call. The phone slipped from my limp grasp, hitting the floor and shattering the screen into a spiderweb of cracks. My legs gave out, and I slid down the cold wall of the stairwell, crumpling onto the steps. The black ink on the note and the urgent, demanding words of my “daughter” tangled and clashed in my mind. One said my daughter was dead. The other was pushing me to get to Canada as fast as possible. Once planted, the seed of doubt grew with terrifying speed, sprouting thorny vines that wrapped around my heart, squeezing until it bled. My mind raced, and I suddenly realized how strange her behavior had been over the past month. She never let me talk to any of our relatives, always blaming the time difference. My sister, who loves to chat, had tried to video call her niece several times, only to be shut down with excuses about work or a bad signal. I remembered, too, how I’d casually brought up a funny story from her childhood—the time she was chased by the neighbor’s dog and fell into a ditch. On the video call, she had stared blankly for a long moment before mumbling, “That was so long ago, I don’t really remember.” At the time, I just thought she’d outgrown her childhood memories. Now I knew the horrifying truth. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten. It was that she never knew in the first place. A sharp chime broke the silence. A text from my bank. A new deposit of five thousand dollars had just hit my account. Immediately, my phone rang again. It was “Emily,” a voice call this time, her tone sickeningly sweet. “Mom, I sent you a little spending money. Buy yourself some nice new clothes for the trip, and some snacks for the plane.” “Don’t be afraid to spend it. Your daughter will take care of you from now on.” The false warmth was a poisoned dagger twisting in my gut. An overwhelming wave of grief and rage at being so cruelly deceived threatened to burn away my sanity. No. I couldn’t fall apart. If the note was true, if my Emmy was really… gone… then who was this imposter? What did this demon who had stolen my daughter’s identity want from me? She had tricked me into selling my home, into traveling alone to a foreign country. Her goal wasn’t just money. I took a deep, shuddering breath of the cold air, forcing myself to think. I picked up the shattered phone and called the number back. The moment she answered, I let out a choked, hysterical sob. “Oh, Emily, honey, you’re such a good daughter! Mom is so touched, so proud of you.” “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll be there on time tomorrow, I promise! I won’t be a minute late!” 2 That night, I lay awake, staring into the darkness until dawn. The patterns on the ceiling twisted and morphed, forming my daughter’s smiling face before shattering into nothingness. Grief washed over me in relentless waves, threatening to break the dam of my composure. But I couldn’t cry. Not yet. At five in the morning, I knocked on Mrs. Gable’s door. She answered, bleary-eyed and surprised to see me. I managed a weary smile and handed her a bag of fruit. “Mrs. Gable, thank you for everything over the years. I was hoping I could speak to Sarah for a moment, just to thank her for her reminder yesterday.” Sarah, the young woman who had given me the note. Mrs. Gable led me inside. Sarah soon emerged from her room in her pajamas, her eyes full of concern. She ushered me into her room and carefully closed the door. “Ma’am, are you…” The moment I saw her kind face, my carefully constructed facade crumbled. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “The note… is it true?” Sarah didn’t speak. She silently retrieved a file folder from her nightstand and pulled out a set of photocopied documents. Her movements were gentle, but the papers felt like red-hot irons, searing my eyes. The bolded text at the top of the first page read: “International Waybill.” The recipient was my daughter, Emily. And the item being shipped: “Deceased’s Personal Effects.” Attached was a summary of a death certificate. The date of death was the fifteenth of last month. The cause: “Traffic Accident.” The last sliver of hope was annihilated by the black-and-white proof. My Emmy, the girl who had promised to show me the world, was gone. A raw, guttural sob tore from my throat, and the world started to go black. Sarah caught me, gently rubbing my back and pressing a glass of warm water into my hand. “You have to stay strong,” she whispered, her voice a soothing balm. “This shipment came through my logistics company. The recipient’s information was so strange—that’s why I looked into the original file.” “The recipient was listed as Emily, but the contact number was unknown, and the address was just a vague forwarding point.” I forced myself to look up from the depths of my despair, latching onto that crucial detail. The scammers didn’t just want my money. They were intercepting my daughter’s belongings. This was bigger, deeper. Her death might not have been an accident at all. The terrifying thought sent a chill through my entire body. I gripped Sarah’s hand like a lifeline. “Sarah, can you… can you help me one more time?” “I need to know where my daughter’s things ended up. I need every single detail you can find.” Sarah nodded firmly. Just then, my phone buzzed. A video call from the imposter. I quickly wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and answered. “Mom, are you up? All packed?” The woman’s voice was still cloyingly sweet. This time, I clearly saw the shadow of a man move quickly behind her. My heart seized. She hastily adjusted the camera angle, laughing it off. “Oh, that was just a colleague, stopping by to say hello.” Her smile was flawless as she added, “I’ve got everything arranged for you here in Canada, Mom. You’re going to have a wonderful life.” I looked at the face on the screen, a face that was a cruel seventy percent replica of my daughter’s, and felt a tidal wave of hatred rise within me. Tears streamed down my face, but I smiled into the camera. “I believe you, sweetie. I’ll do whatever you say.” “I’ll be there tomorrow. My Emmy will be at the airport to pick me up, right?” My expression, a grotesque mask of tears and smiles, must have looked insane. But that monster, she saw only an old woman’s sentimental joy and bittersweet farewell. 3 The next morning, as planned, I dragged an empty suitcase to the curb in front of my old building. A black sedan was already waiting. A wiry man with a pasted-on smile got out. He introduced himself as Rick, a guy from our hometown who my “daughter” had sent to pick me up. He was overly attentive, loading my suitcase into the trunk while peppering me with questions, but his eyes were like a hawk’s, watching my every move. The car pulled smoothly onto the highway, heading for the airport. My heart hammered against my ribs, my palms slick with cold sweat. Step one of my plan was to throw them off schedule. Just as we merged onto the elevated expressway, I let out a sharp cry and slapped my thigh. Rick’s head whipped around. “Mrs. Chen, what’s wrong?” I put on a performance of utter devastation, my voice cracking as if on the verge of tears. “Oh, no! I… I left something incredibly important back at the house! It was a family heirloom from my late husband. I have to go back for it!” Rick’s friendly demeanor vanished. His face hardened. “Ma’am, we can’t do that. The plane won’t wait.” His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. My demeanor changed in a flash. My panic morphed into a full-blown tantrum. “I don’t care! It’s the only thing I have left of my husband! It’s more important than my life! If I don’t get it today, I’m not going!” I wailed, reaching for the door handle as if I might jump out. The driver, hired by Rick, started laying on the horn, muttering about what a pain I was. The car was thick with tension. I was betting on one thing: they wouldn’t dare cause a public scene in broad daylight. Their entire operation depended on secrecy. They couldn’t risk attracting any unwanted attention. Rick’s face was grim, his eyes flashing with fury as he stared at me. But in the end, he didn’t dare lay a hand on me. He got out of the car, muttering into his phone. I could faintly hear a woman’s sharp, angry voice on the other end, cursing me for being a senile old fool. It was the imposter. Finally, she relented. Rick got back in the car, forcing the words through his clenched teeth. “Go back and get it.” The car, amidst a cacophony of angry horns, slowly turned around. I leaned back against the seat, heart pounding, limbs ice-cold, but my mind was crystal clear. It had worked. I had not only bought myself more time, but I had also confirmed their greatest weakness: they were terrified of being exposed. We arrived back at the building I had once called home. I looked up at the familiar window, no longer mine. But I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that I would get back everything I had lost. A new, clearer plan was beginning to form.

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The next time I saw Zane, I was a cocktail waitress in his bar. He stepped in smoothly, defusing a tense situation with a drunk customer for me. His presence was an immediate, silencing authority. “Thanks,” I said, my voice carefully neutral. There was no awkwardness, no fumbling shame. Just a polite, professional distance between us. Everything was as it should be. A moment later, his fingers brushed against mine, his hand closing around my own just like he used to. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I once lived for. “Do you hate me?” I gently pulled my hand away. A small smile touched my lips, but I didn’t answer. Hate him? Not really. You can’t hate someone you no longer love. My gaze drifted down to his left hand, to the plain band on his ring finger. Noticing my glance, Zane instinctively twisted the ring, his eyes lifting to meet mine. “Jenna’s been… insecure lately. That’s why…” I nodded, showing I understood, and bent to wipe the spilled drink from my uniform. I used the excuse of needing a paper towel to turn away. Suddenly, a clean, folded handkerchief appeared before me. “It’s new. Use it.” “No, thank you.” I rolled up my sleeve calmly, creating more space between us. “I wouldn’t want your wife to get the wrong idea.” The movement exposed the terrible, gnarled scars on my forearm. I hesitated for a second, then pulled the sleeve back down. The wounds had been a part of me for years now, sometimes better, sometimes worse. I was used to them. The sight no longer sent me spiraling. As I turned to leave, Zane blocked my path. “I have a private room. Come sit for a while.” “I…” He didn’t wait for an answer, his grip firm on my wrist as he pulled me along. The familiar faces in the VIP lounge froze for a heartbeat when we entered, then quickly resumed their conversations as if nothing had happened. Someone started to pour me a drink. Zane’s hand shot out, covering the glass. “Her stomach’s sensitive. Get her a glass of hot water.” A few of his friends chuckled and nudged each other, the teasing banter a well-rehearsed play. They all acted like this was normal, like I still belonged here. “Thank you, but I’m not thirsty,” I said, my voice flat. I stared out the window, a silent spectator to a drama that had nothing to do with me anymore. Zane’s posture stiffened. He turned, grabbed his overcoat from the back of a chair, and draped it over my shoulders. “It’s cold in here. Keep warm.” I shrugged the coat off and stood up. “I don’t need it. I have to get back to work.” “Clara,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, warning tone. “Do you have to speak to me like this? I’m trying to take care of you.” His tone was quiet, but I knew. He was angry. Once, that sound would have sent me scrambling to his side, clinging to him, begging for his forgiveness. But not anymore. Without another glance, I walked toward the door. This time, the mood in the room shifted instantly. One of his closest friends, a man I’d known for years, stuck out his leg and kicked the back of my knee. The impact sent a shock of pain up my leg, and I crumpled to the floor. “Don’t be a bitch when you’re offered a lifeline,” he snarled. “Zane’s doing you a favor by not treating you like the trash you are.” Another one chimed in, his voice slick with contempt. “A disgusting slut like you… no one would even want you as a mistress.” Zane slowly stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray. “Sweetheart,” he said, the sound chillingly soft. “Are you ready to listen now?” “Come here.” My body trembled with pain as I used a table to pull myself up. “Mr. Sterling,” I said, my voice shaking but clear. “You and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.” The words had barely left my mouth when a glass shattered against the wall behind me. Zane smiled, wiping a drop of blood from his knuckles. “It seems you still haven’t learned your lesson.” His crew closed in, surrounding me. One by one, they took their turns. A kick here, a lit cigarette pressed against my shoulder there. They deliberately tore at my cheap uniform, one of them even using his belt to lash at my back. I curled into a ball in the corner, the pain so intense I couldn’t even scream. Fear, cold and absolute, wrapped around me. It was just like that night. I hugged myself tightly, drowning in a sea of hopelessness. “Still think you’re the Sterling family’s little princess, Clara? Look at you. You’re as ugly as a toad.” “Got a taste for being a thief, huh? Still trying to crawl into Zane’s bed?” “I heard she’s a real screamer for the old execs. I’ve even got the video on my phone.” One of them grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. He held his phone in front of my face, the screen glowing with a high-definition video of my own humiliation, forcing me to watch. Again and again. A wave of nausea rose in my throat, hot and acidic. I curled tighter, burying my face, a broken sob finally escaping my lips. “That’s enough,” Zane’s voice cut through the haze. His polished leather shoes stopped inches from my face, right over my heart. He crouched down in front of me. That same overcoat was draped over my shaking body again. His thumb traced the scar on my neck. “Does it still hurt, sweetheart?” His calm was terrifying. I nodded and shook my head frantically, too scared to offer any resistance. A faint smile played on his lips. “I told you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “You can never escape my grasp.” His eyes, those sharp, elegant eyes, were as cold and merciless as ever. Just like the man himself. Cold heart, cold soul. Why else would he have engineered this, cornering me, forcing me to work in his club? He had tried everything to break me, to make me bow my head to him again. He was just as indifferent the day he picked me up off the street. I was an orphan. When I was hungry, I dug through trash cans. When I was tired, I slept under bridges. Until I was ten. I was so small and scrawny I couldn’t even fight off a stray dog for scraps. So, in a final act of desperation, I threw myself in front of Zane’s car. He never even got out. His driver just tossed a wad of cash at me. But my leg was badly injured; I couldn’t even crawl. All I could do was stare helplessly at the sleek black car. The next time I woke up, I was in a beautiful, sprawling house. The wounds on my leg had been cleaned and bandaged. Zane told me he was adopting me. From that day on, he hired tutors to teach me how to read and write. He bought me the most expensive dresses. I couldn’t sleep in the strange, new place. I would cry every night. He’d complain that I was difficult to raise, but then he’d move his entire desk into my room to work through the night. “You’re too loud. Stop crying,” he’d say gruffly. Then, softening his tone, he’d add, “Be good and go to sleep. I’ll take you out to play tomorrow.” On the nights I was truly terrified, he would put his work aside and read me stories until I fell asleep. In those years, everyone said I was his little princess, spoiled rotten. They joked that with my temperament, no one would ever dare marry me. Zane would just laugh, pulling me into his arms. “Then we won’t get her married. I’ll take care of her forever.” I don’t know if that was love, but in that moment, my heart beat so fast I thought it would burst. Later, I heard he was entering an arranged marriage. I hid in my room for three days, my heart shattered. A week later, the engagement was called off. I couldn’t help but ask him. “Why did you call it off?” He chuckled softly. “You cried like this over a rumor. If I actually married her, would you cry for the rest of your life?” I turned my head away, embarrassed. “I did not.” He didn’t argue, simply pulling me onto his lap. “Alright, you didn’t. But you scared my wife away. Shouldn’t you give me a new one? I’m thirty, Clara. I can’t be single forever, can I?” I stammered, completely flustered. A smile played in his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for my Clara to grow up and be my wife.” I was eighteen that year. I didn’t say no. After that, there were no other women in his life. He treated me better than I could have ever imagined. I thought I was the luckiest person in the world. But that devotion lasted only two years. On my twentieth birthday, Jenna showed up at our door, crying, saying she had nowhere to go. She was five years older than me and the first person to show me kindness when I first arrived. We had become the best of friends. She had gotten married when I was eighteen. I asked her why so young. She said it was an arranged marriage by her family. As an illegitimate daughter, she had no choice. My heart ached for her. I had Zane prepare the most lavish dowry for her wedding. I just wanted her to be happy. Two years later, her husband died, and his family threw her out. Her own family refused to take her back. So I brought her home. I begged Zane to let her stay. He sighed, tapping my head gently. “You’re so naive. One day you’ll be sold and you won’t even realize it. Do you think the Sterling estate is a charity? Taking in every stray?” I looked at him with pleading eyes. He finally, reluctantly, agreed. Jenna’s clothes were rags, her body covered in bruises. My heart broke for her. I held her, my eyes welling with tears. “It’s okay, Jenna. From now on, this is your home. You’re going to be happy here.” And she was. She happily took over my entire life. After moving in, Jenna was too timid to go out. She spent her days in the kitchen, cooking up elaborate meals. Zane wouldn’t touch them at first, but eventually, he started offering a compliment or two. Then, on a whim, they had a cook-off. When he lost, he bought her a gift as an apology. Soon, he was asking her to cook special meals and bring them to his office. I was genuinely happy for her, thinking she was finally coming out of her shell. Until the day he bought her the entire new collection of dresses I had been dreaming about for months. He didn’t save a single one for me. I was a little upset; after all, I’d been talking about them for so long. “She hasn’t had any new clothes since she got here,” he said. “Don’t be petty about these things. Besides, there are other dresses. Don’t be so childish.” I looked at Jenna’s meek, apologetic expression and felt a pang of guilt. Maybe I was being small-minded. I started encouraging Zane to take her to parties, helping her pick out clothes. She began to shed her timidity, clinging to Zane and asking if she looked pretty, begging him for silly little gifts. I shared my deepest secrets with her. I told her I was going to marry Zane, that he was the best man in the world. She would smile and say how wonderful that was. She said she wanted to be my best friend forever. She said she hoped I would be happy for the rest of my life. She joked that at our wedding, she’d be my maid of honor for life and demand her own table at the reception. We even huddled under the covers one night, picking out names for my future children. I laughed and promised her anything, my mind already racing with ways to find her a wonderful husband of her own. Until that night. I heard noises from Zane’s room, the distinct sound of a woman’s voice. “Wow, you’re really energetic tonight.” “Well, you were the one saying I was getting old the other day. Tired now? Get some sleep.” I pushed the door open and froze. Clothes were scattered across the floor. Jenna was lying in his arms. The telltale marks of passion were all over them. “What are you doing?” My hand, gripping the doorknob, started to tremble. No one spoke. Zane carefully helped Jenna into one of his own dress shirts. The sight seared itself into my brain. I lunged at Jenna, my hand raised to strike. “Jenna! You were my best friend!” Before the slap could land, Zane kicked me. I fell to the floor as he wrapped Jenna tightly in the duvet, his eyes guarded and cold. “Clara, if you’re done with your tantrum, close the door on your way out. Jenna’s sensitive. If you scare her, she’ll be up crying all night.” He didn’t even grant me a single glance of remorse. I scrambled up, insane with grief, and tried to pull Jenna away from him, scratching at him wildly. “Why! Why would you do this to me! What about me?” He pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand, his voice laced with impatience. “I never said I wasn’t going to marry you. What are you so angry about? A man in my position can’t have just one woman. Besides, she’s your friend. You two should get along.” Jenna crawled toward me, sobbing. “Clara, I was just so jealous of you. I love Zane so much too. I’ll be the other woman, I don’t need a title. I’ll serve you both. Just please don’t send me away. Zane is just so gentle in bed… I couldn’t bear to leave him.” I yanked my hands free, a chill spreading through me. The other woman? Serve me? I destroyed everything in the house. Smashed it all to pieces. Zane just watched, a cold expression on his face, as if observing a lunatic. I replaced all the files in his work email with their private photos and blasted them across the internet. I invited my friends out constantly, telling them every sordid detail of his affair. Eventually, they stopped coming. Then, they turned on me. “Disgusting!” “You’re sick!” “It was bad enough that she was hoarding Zane’s old clothes, but now she’s digging his used condoms out of the trash? What, trying to get pregnant? I never knew you were so shameless.” My own friends took turns slapping me across the face. Then came a text from Zane. Sweetheart, you shouldn’t have provoked her. I returned to the house, hollowed out. My art studio had been converted into Jenna’s walk-in closet. Zane stroked my hair. “If you don’t behave, I can’t guarantee what will happen next. Jenna is fragile. She can’t stand to hear a bad word said about her.” So I had to be the one in the wrong. He had always known I kept one of his shirts. Back then, he’d told me I could have boxes of them if I wanted. Now, to protect Jenna’s reputation, he was willing to slander me, to make me out to be some desperate, pathetic creature. I dropped my shoulders in defeat, closing my eyes. I deliberately kept my distance from him. I poured everything I had left into a design competition. The next day, Jenna submitted the exact same designs. The organizers were in a difficult position. “Given the circumstances, perhaps we should reschedule…” “That won’t be necessary.” Zane strode onto the stage, his eyes landing on me like a physical blow. “I can testify that Clara was the one who plagiarized.” The room erupted. “I can’t believe she’s that kind of person!” “Figures. No morals, no talent. Just a useless leech.” “Mr. Sterling is a saint for keeping her around.” I looked up at Zane. He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper. “Sweetheart, ignoring me has consequences.” So, it was him again. I stumbled backward. “Give Jenna justice!” someone shouted from the crowd. People surged forward, grabbing at me. Someone threw a liquid. It splashed across my neck and down my right arm. A searing, unbearable pain shot through me. “Clara!” Through a haze of agony, I saw him rush to my side, holding me as if I were the most precious thing in the world. I woke up in a hospital. Alone. A bowl of cold congee sat on the nightstand. Online, the story of their epic love was going viral. Jenna wanted to study design, so he called in a once-in-a-lifetime favor to get her an apprenticeship with a modern master. Even when she was rude, even when she publicly insulted her mentor, even when she treated everyone like a fool, Zane protected her fiercely. He made a public statement. “Jenna is the woman I love. Please don’t hold her actions against her. She’s had a difficult past. I hope you can all be kind to her.” Of course. It was that easy for her. I had begged him for years for a similar introduction. He had told me I had to rely on myself, that no one would teach me if I didn’t have the talent. He wouldn’t even arrange a dinner meeting for me. Now, to legitimize the woman he loved, he forced Jenna’s family to formally acknowledge her, turning her into a proper heiress overnight. He never came to see me. Our only interaction was when his assistant came to force me to sketch designs for Jenna’s competition portfolio. When I refused, they stopped my medication. The pain from the burns was unbearable. In that small hospital room, I drew day and night, redoing sketches over and over based on Jenna’s one-word critiques until my hand cramped so badly I could no longer hold a pen. I was in agony, half-dead in that hospital bed. I finally gathered the strength to call him. I could hear them in the background. Jenna’s laughter. They were eating, sleeping, watching movies. He was so in love with her. Her design, my design, won the competition. They thanked each other publicly, flaunting their love online. It had nothing to do with me. The day I was discharged, he came to pick me up. The burns had left a hideous patchwork of scars from my neck down my arm. He helped me into the car as if nothing had happened. He asked if I was done with my tantrum. His tone was light, as if he were asking what I wanted for dinner. When I didn’t speak, he gently kissed my hand. “Jenna had it rough for so many years. I just want her to be happy. You said she was pitiable too, didn’t you? I raised you, Clara. Be the bigger person and let her have this, okay?” I closed my eyes, my chest constricting with a pain that had nothing to do with my burns. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. He held me close, humming an old lullaby from my childhood. “But Zane,” I whispered, “I have nothing left. And I didn’t do anything wrong.” He froze for a second, his brow furrowed. “But you’re still living at the estate. What more could you want?” I couldn’t control it anymore. I slapped him, hard. “Zane! You know how hard I worked! You destroyed my career! My reputation! My future! All of it, just like that.” And my love. He sighed, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “That’s all superficial nonsense. Why do you care so much about that? That’s not what life is about.” I burst out laughing, a hysterical, body-wracking sound. Not what life is about? Then why did he fight so hard to give Jenna a title? Why did he get her a master mentor and a prestigious award? When it came to me, it was ambition, greed. But in just a few short months, I was utterly exhausted. Zane wiped the tears from my face. “Okay, calm down. If you really want those things, I’ll make it up to you later.” He dropped me off, called Jenna to let her know he was on his way to the office, and then kissed my lips. He didn’t come home that night, or the next. One evening, I was curled up with my cat on the porch swing, watching the sunset. He appeared, looking weary from a long trip. He was holding a ring box. He knelt before me and asked if I would still marry him. It was the ring we had designed together last year. We had been too busy to pick it up. Now, it was right in front of me. I looked down at my scarred, slightly misshapen fingers. I didn’t speak. I just nodded slowly. His face lit up as he slid the ring on. It was too big now. It slipped off and rolled somewhere into the darkness. But he didn’t care. He cupped my face in his hands. “My sweet, good girl.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Sweetheart… Jenna has a business associate… I need you to entertain him tonight.” “What did you just say?” I thought I had misheard. Zane rubbed his temples wearily. “She just went back to her old company and wants a promotion, but she won’t let me help. Her boss has a thing for beautiful women. She’s too timid to go herself… she cried in my arms all night about it. You’re not doing anything right now. Just go help her out.” For the first time, the man in front of me seemed utterly disgusting. I pushed him away and tried to run. He grabbed me. “You won’t go? Then the cat in your arms…” He was threatening me. With the cat he had bought for me. Seeing me freeze, he smiled. I stood there like a doll while he dressed me in a beautiful gown and did my makeup. He led me by the hand and delivered me to that door. He said when I came out, he’d be there to pick me up. To take me home to get married.

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My wife killed our daughter. It was because Lily, our daughter, accidentally scratched my wife’s first love during dance class. For that, my wife, Mina, dragged Lily into the dance studio and forced her through the same routine, again and again, until our daughter’s hip fractured and she collapsed on the floor, silent. But Mina felt no remorse. Instead, she accused me of spoiling Lily and, to punish me, froze all my credit cards. When the hospital needed money for Lily’s emergency surgery, I knelt on the floor and begged Mina over the phone. “She only scratched Ethan because she was in so much pain! I’ll get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness, I’ll do anything! Please, just give me the money. If we wait any longer, Lily will die.” But my wife was annoyed. I had interrupted her and her precious Ethan while they were discussing what new positions to try the next time they went to a hotel. “Leo, are you even fit to be a father?” she sneered. “Lily was perfectly fine when I was stretching her legs just now, and you have the nerve to tell me she’s critically ill?” Then she hung up. All I could do was watch in despair as my daughter’s body grew colder and colder in my arms. After the doctors wheeled Lily into the operating room, I called my father-in-law overseas. “Dad,” I said, my voice hollow. “Let’s call off our agreement. I never fell in love with Mina. I’m going to find Amy.” 1 My father-in-law was stunned. “Leo, what are you talking about? Didn’t we have an agreement? After Amy fell into a coma, you were to marry her sister, Mina, to keep our family together. Things have been fine for years, haven’t they? Why are you talking about leaving now?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I told him everything. He was silent for a moment, then exploded with rage. “She’s gone too far! Who gave her the right to do such a thing? Leo, don’t worry. Lily will be alright.” But at that exact moment, the doors to the operating room burst open. A surgeon in white scrubs yelled, his voice frantic. “Where’s the family? We need the family! The patient’s life is in danger! We’re moving her to the ICU to monitor her vital signs. Go pay the fees, now!” I didn’t dare hesitate. As I rushed to the front desk, I could hear my father-in-law’s anxious voice on the phone. “Leo, we’ll be back in three days! You have to keep us updated on Lily’s condition!” But when I got to the payment counter, I discovered the truth. My cards had been frozen. I frantically called my wife, but the line was busy. When she finally picked up, her voice was a furious torrent. “Leo, what is your problem with Ethan? I’ve told you a hundred times, we’re just dance partners! Nothing more! We’re about to go on stage for the competition, why do you keep calling?” For Lily’s sake, I swallowed my anger and explained. “It doesn’t matter. Just unblock the card, right now.” After we married, I had given her control of all my finances. She was utterly impatient. “Are you even a father, Leo? You’d stoop so low as to use your own daughter as an excuse just to stop me from dancing with Ethan? Wasn’t she perfectly fine when I was helping her with her stretches? You’ve spoiled her so much she can’t handle a bit of pain. I was just toughening her up!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Mina! It’s because you broke her hip! She wasn’t quiet because the pain stopped. She was quiet because she couldn’t feel her legs anymore!” I wanted to say more, but she had already hung up. A nurse rushed over, her face grim. “What are you waiting for? Your daughter is dying! If you don’t pay, how are we supposed to save her?” I had no choice. I scrambled to get a loan online, called friends, begged for money. But by the time I had scraped it all together, it was too late. A doctor emerged from the ICU, his head bowed, and delivered the devastating news. Lily had bled out internally. She was gone. The world spun, and I collapsed against the wall, hollowed out by a grief too deep for tears. I held no shred of affection for Mina anymore. I booked a ticket on a ship leaving in seven days. Once Lily’s funeral was over, I would leave this place of sorrow for good. 2 After arranging everything for Lily, I sat exhausted in the cold, sterile morgue. My phone buzzed. It was a new post from my wife on social media. The photo showed her and Ethan, wrapped in a tight embrace, holding a trophy high as a crowd applauded. The caption read: “A lifetime of art, a lifetime of love.” How tragic. Her own daughter was dying in an ICU, her body now lying cold in a morgue, and all she could think about was dancing with her first love. My father-in-law called. “Leo… how is Lily?” My eyes, empty and dull, stared at the small, shrouded form on the steel table. “She’s dead,” I said, my voice flat. I heard a violent fit of coughing on the other end of the line. “How could… I’ll call Mina right now. Leo, don’t panic. She must have just lost her head for a moment. I’ll talk to her, I’ll bring her to her senses.” Talk to her. Always talking. Years ago, when my fiancée, Mina’s older sister Amy, suddenly fell into a vegetative state right before our wedding, he had talked me into marrying Mina instead. He begged me not to break the family ties. He’d even threatened to keep me from visiting Amy if I didn’t agree. So I agreed. But a few years into our marriage, Mina started cheating on me with her first love, Ethan. And my in-laws talked me into staying, for Lily’s sake. So I endured it, our marriage a hollow shell. But now Lily was dead. And they still wanted to talk? I suppressed a wave of fury and refused coldly. “We’re past that point. There’s nothing left to say. Dad, I’m divorcing her.” I left the hospital and went home to find a proper dress for Lily to be buried in. To my surprise, the front door was ajar. Through the dim light of the living room, I saw two intertwined shadows moving on the bedroom wall. “Mina, that loser Leo still doesn’t know you’re pregnant with my child. What’s your plan?” “You saw how he always has Lily setting herself against me. I might be willing to be the other woman, but I won’t let my child be bullied!” Then came Mina’s icy voice. “Don’t worry, Ethan, my love. You’re the only one I’ve ever loved. Leo is just a con artist. If he hadn’t lied to my dad back then, pretending he paid for his medical bills, we would never have been forced apart. You were the one who paid for it! From now on, our child will be my only real child. Lily was never the daughter I wanted.” Hearing her words felt like a thousand knives twisting in my heart. As I was carrying Lily to the ambulance, her face was as white as a sheet, but her small hand clutched my sleeve, and she was trying to comfort me. “Daddy, don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Mommy was so happy with my progress today. As long as I dance well, Mommy and Daddy won’t fight anymore.” Tears streamed down my face. My poor, sweet girl. She never knew. Even in death, she never knew. She hadn’t progressed. She had been broken. And in the end, she was killed by the mother she adored. I couldn’t take it anymore. I kicked the bedroom door open. “Mina! You have a heart of stone! You killed Lily, and you have the nerve to be in here with him?” They weren’t surprised by my sudden entrance. Mina just looked at me with disgust. “Leo, I have told you countless times, Ethan and I are dance partners! What we do in bed is for our art! I always help him with his… physical needs before a performance. Why must you always be so small-minded and jealous of our connection?” 3 I wanted to laugh, but before I could speak, Ethan put on a pitiful expression. “Mina, that child Lily was never one for hardship. Leo just spoiled her too much, that’s why he’s always had it out for me. Fine, I’ll just leave.” Mina flew into a rage. “Leo, look what you’ve done! Apologize to Ethan, right now! You and your daughter will never understand the sacrifices he makes.” His sacrifices? For the first two years of our marriage, Mina and I were happy. Then her first love, Ethan, reappeared. Mina became a different person, out at all hours, neglecting everything to dance with him. She even forced Lily, who hated dancing, to be coached by him. I told her again and again that Lily didn’t want to dance, that Ethan was hurting her. Lily would come home covered in bruises. But Mina ignored it all, claiming it was just strict training for Lily’s own good, and scolding me for being too soft. She pushed Lily every single day. “What are you standing there for? Apologize! And where’s Lily? Did you hide her again so she could slack off?” I trembled with rage, pointing a finger at Mina’s face. “Lily. Is. Dead,” I said, each word a block of ice. “She’s dead! You killed her!” Mina was still dismissive, her voice dripping with contempt. “Leo, I can understand you having a problem with Ethan. But my patience has its limits. Apologize to him right now, or we’re getting a divorce.” My rage turned into manic laughter. “Hah! Fine! A divorce! I’ve wanted a divorce for a long time!” Mina stumbled back, a look of disbelief on her face. After all, in the past, even when she brought Ethan home for dinner and I had to sleep on the sofa while he slept in my bed, I never said a word. My sudden resolution shocked her. Ethan got up and dressed, stepping in front of Mina to shield her. “Leo, who do you think you’re yelling at? Mina is your wife, the woman who has stood by you. What kind of man are you?” Looking at his smug face, remembering all the suffering Lily endured, a red-hot fury exploded in my brain. I lost all reason. I lunged forward, aiming a kick at him. But he dodged with a dancer’s grace, pretending to fall. As he went down, he kicked out at my supporting leg, sending me crashing to the floor. A sharp, piercing pain shot through the back of my head as if something sharp had been driven into it. A loud ringing filled my ears. Through the haze, I could only hear Mina’s frantic cries. “Ethan! Ethan, are you okay?” She turned on me, her rage absolute, kicking and punching me. “Leo, how dare you hit Ethan! How dare you!” I was powerless to resist, my mind a swirling vortex of pain and confusion. I passed out before the ambulance arrived. When I woke up, I was staring at the clean white ceiling of a hospital room. A nurse was by my side, changing a dressing on my head. Mina was nowhere in sight. The nurse saw I was awake and spoke urgently. “Don’t move! What were you thinking? There was a needle stuck in the back of your head, and you didn’t even call for help! If your neighbor hadn’t found you, you’d be dead.” The words sent a chill through me. The ambulance Mina had called wasn’t for me. It was for Ethan. He had faked his fall and didn’t have a scratch on him, yet she had been frantic with worry. Meanwhile, I was nearly dead from a needle in my skull, and she hadn’t given me a second thought. I closed my eyes, my heart turning to ash. Just then, the door flew open and Mina stormed in, her eyes glaring at me with pure hatred. “Leo, you broke Ethan’s nose. You will atone for it by giving him one of your ribs.” 4 Mina waved her hand, and a group of doctors rushed in. I fought with all my strength, but they overpowered me and forced me into an operating room. They cracked me open, without anesthesia, and ripped out a piece of my rib. The pain was so intense I passed out. When I woke up, I was gripping the bedsheets so hard my knuckles were white, my eyes fixed on Mina with pure, undiluted hatred. Ethan couldn’t have had a broken nose. It was all a lie. “Mina,” I rasped, “remember this feeling. This is how much pain Lily was in before she died. And just like me, she was wrongly accused by you until the very end.” Mina’s anger only grew. “Leo, you keep cursing Lily, wishing her dead. What is wrong with you? Did you really think you could hide her from me, stop her from dancing? I already sent Ethan to the house to find her. Your coddling is useless!” What? I couldn’t believe it. Ignoring the searing pain in my side, I scrambled out of bed and rushed home. I would not let that vile dog touch a single thing that belonged to my precious daughter. That man was a monster. The real reason my father-in-law had pushed me to marry Mina was to protect her sister. Years ago, a sex scandal between Ethan, who was her dance teacher, and her sister Amy had caused Amy to have a car accident in a moment of distraction. She had woken up with no memory of anyone or anything. I had stayed by her side, posing as her fiancé, to help her get through her art school exams. But who could have guessed that Mina would rekindle her old flame with Ethan? When I stumbled into the house, I found Ethan holding a pair of my daughter’s underwear to his face, inhaling deeply. “Ah, delicious! I think next time, I’ll get to touch the little beauty’s chest. I bet she’s developing beautifully.” Lily was dead, and he still dared to desecrate her memory. A firestorm of rage erupted in my chest. I grabbed a chair and smashed it over his head. He crumpled to the floor, his face contorting with fury. He was about to retaliate, but then his expression suddenly changed. He looked at me with feigned terror. “Mina, help me! He’s hitting me just because I was tidying up Lily’s clothes! He said I was dirty!” I whipped my head around in surprise. Mina had followed me. She was staring at me, her eyes burning with rage. “Leo, apologize! Apologize to Ethan!” I choked back my fury. “Mina, he’s a pervert! Didn’t you see what he was just doing with Lily’s clothes?” She completely lost it, slapping me hard across the face. “Shut up, Leo! You’re the pervert!” I was still weak from my injury. The blow sent me to the floor, and a tearing pain ripped through my chest. Mina didn’t even glance at me. She rushed to help Ethan up. “Leo, we’re getting a divorce! And you will give Lily back to me right now. I think Ethan is right. The way you dote on her… I suspect you’re the real sicko here.” A tragic smile spread across my face. “I’ve already told you three times. Lily is dead. Killed by the mother she loved more than anyone.” She still didn’t believe me. She shrieked, “Leo, do you really think my patience is infinite? Say that again, and I’ll make sure you never see Lily for the rest of your life!” Just then, a voice, tight with suppressed rage, boomed from the doorway. “Mina! Look at what you’ve done! How could you get mixed up with this scum again? Have you really forgotten what happened all those years ago?” Mina was stunned to see her father. Then her glare shot back to me. “Leo, you’ve gone too far. My father’s illness can only be treated overseas. Ethan spent a fortune to send him there, and you dragged him back! Do you have no conscience?” “Enough!” It was her father who answered, his eyes cold. “Mina, you disappoint me more than you can imagine. Who told you it was Ethan who paid for my treatment?” Ethan shrank back, suddenly silent. Mina, annoyed by his cowardice, still stood her ground. “Dad, I know Leo has tricked you. You don’t know what he’s like. He has unnatural feelings for his own daughter, Lily. He spoils her rotten…” SLAP! Her father, trembling with rage, struck her across the face. Then, his face etched with sorrow, he thrust a piece of paper in front of her. Lily’s death certificate. “Read this. Read it carefully. Lily is dead! Dead! Killed by the mother she adored. Are you satisfied now?” Mina’s pupils shrank. Utter disbelief.

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1 At the company dinner, everyone got to order a dish. When it was my turn, the new intern, Sienna, snatched the menu from my hand. “We have enough food. No more ordering.” I ignored her and turned to the waiter. “I’d like an order of the sweet ricotta fritters.” Sienna slammed the menu onto my face, her eyes blazing with fury. “I said no more ordering. Who do you think you are?” The hard edge of the menu left a stinging red line across my cheek. A fire ignited in my chest, mirroring the pain on my face. I snatched the menu and threw it right back at her. She shrieked. “Do you have any idea who I am? My father is Brett Croft, the CEO of our biggest client! Even our own boss has to treat me with respect. How dare you lay a hand on me? Believe it or not, I can have your Sales Champion title revoked and get you blacklisted from the entire industry!” I stared at her, my face a perfect meme of utter confusion. My own uncle, Brett Croft, a confirmed bachelor for forty years… since when did he have a daughter this old? Seeing my stunned silence, Sienna grew even more arrogant. “What, scared now? A gold digger like you who sleeps her way to the top… we’re lucky the air isn’t polluted just by you being here. And you think you have the right to order food?” Sleeps her way to the top? I worked my fingers to the bone, pulling all-nighters to perfect my proposals. I spent eight hours a day eating dust on construction sites, getting so tanned my own mother barely recognized me. And she had the audacity to say I got by on my looks? I pushed my chair back and stood up to face her. “Watch your mouth, Sienna. I earn my results through hard work. My abilities are plain for everyone to see. You have no right to judge me. And this is a company dinner, not your private party. If I don’t have the right to order, then you have even less. No wonder I smelled something foul when I walked in. It was the garbage spewing from your mouth!” A ripple of stifled laughter went through the room. My colleagues had long been fed up with Sienna’s arrogance. In the month she’d been an intern, she’d treated everyone like her personal servant. When a new hire, Tina, refused to get her coffee, Sienna poured the entire scalding cup over Tina’s head, leaving a blister on her scalp. Not only did she refuse to apologize, but she also threatened her. “You dare ask me for an apology? I’ll have you fired!” In the end, the company had to cover Tina’s medical bills. I had wanted to intervene back then, but my colleagues held me back. I couldn’t understand why they were all so afraid to speak up. Now I knew. They were all intimidated by her self-proclaimed title: “Brett Croft’s daughter.” Sienna’s face was crimson with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Nina! Don’t get cocky. Without my dad’s support, this company would go bankrupt. I’m telling you, I’m in charge at this dinner. If I say you can’t order, you can’t!” She spat, “Who the hell do you think you are? You order one more thing, and I’ll make sure you’re gone by tomorrow!” The waiter looked at me, caught in the middle. “Ma’am, will you still be ordering?” “Yes,” I said without a moment’s hesitation. I refused to back down. I had generated tens of millions in revenue for this company with a single project. I wasn’t even allowed to order one dessert? 2 “What’s all the commotion?” The CEO, Mr. White, pushed the door open, his face a thundercloud. “This is a company dinner, not a wrestling match. What’s going on?” Sienna, seizing the opportunity, put on a pitiful expression and twisted the entire story. Before I could even get a word in, Mr. White’s cold gaze landed on me. “Nina, you’ve been with us for a year. Don’t you know that frugality is a core company value? Sienna was just being considerate of the company’s expenses. Will you starve if you miss one dish? And hitting someone is completely out of line. You will apologize to Sienna immediately and pay her ten thousand dollars for emotional distress. Then we’ll consider this matter closed.” I almost laughed out loud. I looked him straight in the eye. “Mr. White, are you sure you want me to apologize and pay her?” His expression darkened. Tina tugged at my sleeve, whispering, “Nina, don’t be stubborn. Sienna is Brett Croft’s daughter. You can’t afford to cross her. Mr. White is counting on her to close the deal with Apex.” I couldn’t help but scoff. “She says Brett Croft is her father, and you all just believe her? Did she bring her birth certificate to the interview?” Tina pulled out her phone and showed me Sienna’s social media profile. “It’s true. Mr. Croft himself dropped her off on her first day.” I looked at the photo and my jaw nearly hit the floor. There was my handsome, well-dressed uncle, standing in front of a luxury car. And next to him, unbelievably, was Sienna. Sienna had even added a caption: Thanks, Dad, for taking time out of your busy schedule to drop me off for my internship. I won’t let you down. I immediately tried to call my uncle, but the line went straight to a robotic “the user’s phone is switched off” message. Seeing my refusal to apologize, Sienna shot me a malevolent glare. “You’ll regret this, Nina. I’ll make you pay.” The next day, I found out what she meant by “pay.” At the awards ceremony, the Sales Champion title and the five-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus that should have been mine were awarded to Sienna. They hadn’t even had time to change my name on the award speech slide in the presentation. This was blatant robbery. A fire surged in my chest. I immediately stood up and demanded an explanation. “What is the criterion for the Sales Champion award? My project sales this month exceeded one billion, generating over ten million in revenue for the company. I’m five million ahead of the runner-up. Sienna hasn’t closed a single deal. I would like to ask the management, on what grounds are you giving my award to her?” The conference hall fell silent. The heads of finance and sales exchanged nervous glances, neither daring to speak. Sienna looked at me with an arrogant smirk. “Obviously, it’s because your projects were secured through… dishonorable means. The company cannot condone such vile behavior. For now, we’ve only revoked your title. If you continue to damage the company’s reputation with your sordid tactics, you’ll be fired.” I was shaking with anger. My eyes swept across the faces of the management on the stage. The same people who used to praise my skills and call me a rising star were now avoiding my gaze, staring at their shoes like cowards. I turned to the highest authority, Mr. White. “Mr. White, is this your decision as well?” Being called out in public clearly irritated him. He frowned. “Nina, the company has its reasons. Don’t disrupt the awards ceremony over such a small matter. You need to see the bigger picture.” “The bigger picture?” My eyes reddened, my voice trembling. “Is the bigger picture that I work year-round, working overtime late into the night, breaking my back to land projects, only to have them handed over to someone else?” That you’ll erase all my hard work based on a baseless rumor and do nothing? Where is the fairness in that? Where is the justice? Don’t you feel any guilt treating a dedicated employee this way?” Mr. White was speechless. Sienna, however, showed no shame. She lifted her chin, a sneer on her face. “Fairness? Don’t be so naive, Nina. In this world, fairness belongs to those with power. You want justice? Go find a rich daddy to get it for you. Too bad you don’t have one.” She made no effort to hide her contempt. “But I do. My identity as the daughter of Brett Croft, CEO of the Apex Group, is enough to crush you for the rest of your life.” I stared at her, wondering where she got her confidence. I even started to question if my uncle had secretly fathered an illegitimate child. Suddenly, I spoke. “I heard Mr. Croft has a niece whom he adores as if she were his own. I wonder, Miss Sales Champion, have you ever met her?” Sienna’s expression froze for a second, then she shot me a dismissive glance. “That’s my cousin. Of course, I’ve met her. But she’s always been abroad and rarely comes back. Even I hardly see her. A low-life commoner like you could never even dream of meeting her.” I snorted. “Is that so? You’re not a low-life, yet you’re stealing someone else’s award and bonus? Could it be that you’re a fake?” “You!” Sienna’s face turned ashen. She glared at me. “Nina, don’t push it! Your title was revoked because you’re unworthy. I, on the other hand, earned it through my own merit!” “Merit?” I took a step forward, my eyes boring into hers. “You mean the merit of slacking off and playing games all day at work, taking two-hour lunch breaks, and leaving at five on the dot? Or the merit of staring at a computer all day and only managing to type the word ‘proposal’ into a PowerPoint slide?” My words were slow and deliberate, each one a sharp jab at her pride. Her mouth hung open, but no words came out. She looked to Mr. White for help. His face flashed with disappointment before he turned to me, his voice stern. “Nina! Watch your tone! This is a company, not a marketplace. You will not make a scene!” 3 “Don’t think that just because you’ve landed a few projects you can do whatever you want. It’s survival of the fittest. You need to accept that you’ve been replaced by someone better. Stop being unreasonable!” All eyes were on me, waiting to see me make a fool of myself, to watch me burn my bridges with the company over a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus. Five hundred thousand? I wouldn’t bat an eye at five million. What I wanted was fairness. I wasn’t angry. I didn’t argue. I just smiled, a bitter, ironic smile. “Alright. I accept. The Sales Champion title should, indeed, go to someone more deserving.” As soon as I got back to my desk, HR sent out two announcements. Employee Nina has been found to be misusing company funds for lavish personal expenses, a serious violation of company policy. Therefore, Nina is hereby stripped of her position as Sales Manager and suspended pending investigation. Intern Sienna has demonstrated great courage in protecting the company’s interests and has shown outstanding performance during her internship, generating significant revenue. She is hereby promoted to a full-time position, assuming the role of Sales Manager and taking over all of Nina’s ongoing projects. Immediately after, Mr. White tagged me in the company group chat. Nina, your extravagance and disregard for company policy are unacceptable. Your bonus for this month is docked. You are to write a ten-thousand-word self-criticism and post it in this group for all other employees to learn from. This was beyond humiliating. They stripped me of my title, docked my pay, made an example of me, and sacrificed me on the altar of their own authority. The group chat fell silent. The entire office was plunged into a dead quiet. All eyes were on me, some filled with pity, some with regret, some with indignation, and some with undisguised glee. The message just sat there, everyone waiting for me to post my humiliating apology. Mr. White tagged me again: Didn’t you see this? I still didn’t reply. He started tagging me repeatedly, like a madman. Tina sent me a private message: Nina, don’t be stubborn. Just give in. Your job is what’s important. I smiled at her, and the smile brought tears to my eyes. My stiff fingers tapped on my phone, my hands trembling as I replied: Message received, sir. I will remember this lesson and will never again be so extravagant as to order a forty-dollar dish. At the next company dinner, I will only drink water. My seemingly apologetic message was like a drop of water in a sizzling pan of oil. On the surface, it was calm, but underneath, it was a clear declaration of an employee’s utter disappointment in their company. I logged out of all my company accounts and began my “suspension” in earnest. Mr. White, citing that I was no longer in a managerial role, moved me to a desk right next to the restrooms. I was forced to endure the pitying and contemptuous glances of my colleagues as they came and went. Sienna sat smugly at my old desk, ordering the department around. But my seat wasn’t so easy to fill. I had personally handled every single one of my projects, from design to execution. I knew every detail. Sienna knew nothing. Within a few days, a dozen clients had complained, demanding that I be put back on their projects or they would cancel their contracts. The company was facing massive penalty fees. Mr. White finally couldn’t take it anymore. He condescended to come to my new desk. “Nina, you were handling these projects. There are some technical issues now. Go and coordinate with the clients. We need to make sure they are satisfied.” I looked up, my expression blank. “Mr. White, I think you have the wrong person. I’m suspended.” He paused, his tone stiff. “You still have to work while you’re suspended. It’s company policy. You’re responsible for your projects from start to finish.” I shrugged. “But I’ve already logged out of all my accounts. I can’t access anything.” His face froze, his eyes filled with rage. “Suspension isn’t termination! Why did you log out? Reapply for access immediately.” I looked at him calmly. “You were the one who said I was no longer in a position of authority. I was just following your orders.” Mr. White was losing face, but he gritted his teeth and tried again. “Alright. You’re reinstated. Now get in touch with the clients and stop them from canceling.” I smiled. “Mr. White, shouldn’t you be asking your ‘more deserving’ Sales Champion to handle this? A gold digger like me who gets by on her looks doesn’t have that kind of ability.” His face turned a deep shade of purple as he struggled to control his anger. “Nina, that was just a joke between colleagues. Are you really taking it seriously?” My smile remained, but it was laced with ice. “Was it also a joke when my title was revoked and I lost a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus? Was it a joke when a forty-dollar dish was deemed an act of ‘lavish personal expense’?” Each word was a slap in the face. His face went from red to white to a sickly shade of purple. He was silent. I knew he was wrestling with himself. Admitting he was wrong was not something a big boss like him did. Just then, Sienna ran over, her face beaming. “Mr. White, Apex has agreed to invest!” A triumphant smile spread across Mr. White’s face. “Excellent! Sienna, you’re the company’s lucky star! With Apex backing us, those clients will be begging to work with us.” He turned and shot me a venomous glare. “Nina, you’re fired. Go and pack your things now.” I nodded calmly. “Fine. I demand compensation as stipulated by my contract.” He roared, his face contorted with rage. “Compensation? You’ve caused the company huge losses! You’ll be lucky if we don’t sue you!” Sienna looked at me with pure malice. “Nina, I’ll have you blacklisted from the entire industry.” I just smiled faintly. “I’ll be waiting.”

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My parents’ marriage was never about love. It was a merger. So after they designated me—a boy with no blood ties to either of their families, but who had received the finest education money could buy—as their sole heir, they went their separate ways to sow their wild oats. But the latest “true heir” to show up on our doorstep didn’t know any of this. He just slapped a DNA test on the table in front of me, his chin held high. “You’ve been living my life for eighteen years. Don’t you think it’s time to give it back?” “Get a clue and get out,” he sneered. “And don’t think for a second I’m one of those useless characters from those real-vs-fake heir novels.” “I got my acceptance letter from MIT this year.” The live comment feed scrolling across my vision lit up in agreement. 【The real heir is finally back! I love this ruthless persona.】 【I can’t stand those guys who just play the victim, all crocodile tears and fake stumbles down the stairs.】 I gave a cold smile. He was the eighth one last month. Eleven the month before that. When would it ever end? — 1 After Leo slammed the paternity test down in front of me, he tilted his chin up, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You’ve been living my life for eighteen years. Now, it’s time to give it back, don’t you think?” Before I could even respond, the familiar, semi-transparent comment stream in front of my eyes began to flood with new messages. 【The real heir is back! Hell yes!】 【This is what I’m talking about, straight to the action! None of that boring setup!】 Leo was clearly pleased with his opening gambit. He cleared his throat, continuing with a script he’d likely lifted from some trashy web novel: “Get a clue and get out on your own, before I’m forced to make you.” Then, he added a little flourish of his own. “And don’t think I’m like those useless heirs from the stories. I got my acceptance letter from MIT this year.” The comments exploded. 【Whoa, a genius character? I’m sold!】 【The fake heir doesn’t stand a chance now.】 【Place your bets, how long until the fake heir ‘accidentally’ falls down the stairs? Hurry up with the classic scenes!】 I adjusted my glasses, my expression unreadable. After all, he was the sixth self-proclaimed “true heir” to show up with a DNA test this month. Last month, there were eight of them. The month before that, eleven. I almost had enough to form two soccer teams. Our butler, Peterson, stood behind me, not even bothering to lift an eyelid. A few of the maids, who were polishing antique vases nearby, exchanged subtle glances, the corners of their mouths twitching with suppressed laughter. The silence in the room stretched, thick with awkwardness. I broke it, my voice flat. “Are you finished?” Leo clearly hadn’t expected this reaction. He stiffened his neck, retorting, “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t believe me?” “I believe you,” I said with a nod. I took the crumpled report from his hand and passed it to Peterson without a second glance. “If he shares my father’s blood, then he belongs in the Hebert family.” “Peterson, please show our… new young master to a guest room. What about the south-facing suite on the third floor? The view is quite nice.” Peterson bowed slightly. “Of course, Mr. Adrian.” The entire exchange was smooth, polite, and perfectly executed. Leo was completely stunned. The comment stream went quiet for a few seconds, then a few confused messages trickled through. 【??? This isn’t in the script?】 【Why isn’t the fake heir playing by the rules? Shouldn’t he be on his knees, begging for mercy?】 【I don’t know… this feels like punching a pillow.】 I looked at Leo’s face, now flushed a deep shade of crimson, and felt a genuine urge to laugh. This act, it seemed, was going to be a little more interesting than the last five. 2 Peterson led Leo up to the third-floor guest suite. I thought I might finally have a moment of peace, at least long enough to finish my tea. The next second, my door was kicked open. Leo stood in the doorway, pointing a finger at me. “This room! I want this one!” 【Here we go! The classic ‘stealing the room’ scene!】 【See? I told you. This is more like it!】 I looked up, meeting his gaze calmly. This was the master suite, the best room in the entire villa. He certainly had an eye for real estate. “Fine,” I said, closing my book and standing up. “But I should warn you, this room gets the full force of the afternoon sun. It can get incredibly hot. And the soundproofing is terrible. When someone’s using the home theater downstairs, it sounds like artillery shells are going off next to your ear.” Leo hadn’t anticipated I would agree so easily. The speech he had prepared died in his throat. He stood there for a moment, stunned, before managing to force out a single, defiant phrase. “I don’t care!” “Alright,” I nodded. “Then make yourself at home.” With that, I picked up my book and headed for the study next door, content to sleep there for the night. Leo was left standing in the middle of the room, the triumphant excitement draining from his face. At dinner, Leo finally got the tearful family reunion he’d been dreaming of. My father, Richard Hebert, and my mother, Eleanor, were both, for once, present at the table. Across the long expanse of polished mahogany, Leo sat opposite me. He spent a good few minutes working up his emotions before his eyes finally reddened. “Dad, Mom…” he began, his voice choked with a carefully crafted vulnerability. “You have no idea… what my life has been like all these years…” He launched into a heart-wrenching tale of his childhood, of never having enough to eat, of being scorned by his adoptive parents, and of his heroic struggle to earn his place at MIT. At the most dramatic moments, he even managed to squeeze out a few tears. The comment stream was moved. 【Oh, poor Leo! He’s been through so much!】 【Mr. and Mrs. Hebert, look at your amazing son!】 But at the head of the table, the two people who mattered most were completely unfazed. My father was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece, deep in a hushed, transatlantic conference call. My mother, Eleanor, was meticulously marking up a thick art auction catalog with a special pen. “This Monet’s Water Lilies,” she murmured to herself, “the estimate is far too conservative…” The grand dining room was filled with the solitary sound of Leo’s sobbing, which echoed awkwardly in the vast space. I was the only one paying him any mind, and only then to calmly cut into my steak and offer a piece of advice. “Your soup is getting cold.” Leo’s crying stopped abruptly. Finally, my father’s call ended. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked up at Leo, his brow furrowed in irritation. “You,” he said, pointing a finger at Leo, his voice sharp with impatience. “Are being loud.” My mother also looked up from her catalog, her gaze sweeping over him with a cool detachment. “Peterson, teach the new young master some table manners. We do not speak while eating.” With that, they both set down their silverware, rose from the table, and departed—one to his study, the other to her art gallery. From beginning to end, they never once asked Leo how he had fared all those years. Leo was left with his mouth agape, the tears forgotten in his eyes. 【Wait, what’s with this script?】 【Why aren’t these rich parents coddling him? Where’s the scene where they embrace their long-lost son and weep?】 【Is it just me, or is everyone in this family a little… off? Except for the new guy?】 I dabbed my lips with a napkin and stood up. As I passed by Leo, I paused, looking at his utterly lost expression. I finally offered a quiet parting shot. “Welcome home.” He jerked his head up to look at me, his eyes filled with nothing but confusion. 3 The next afternoon, I got a call from Isabella Thorne. The moment I answered, I was greeted by her unrestrained laughter. “Hey, Adrian. I hear you’ve got a new model in stock. Is this one any fun?” I leaned back on the living room sofa, turning a page in my economics journal, and gave a noncommittal, “Mm.” “MIT kid. He’s got… energy.” “Oh, a real brainiac, is he?” Isabella’s tone grew even more amused. “I have to come see this. Same old address? I’m on my way.” She hung up before I could reply. Half an hour later, Isabella’s flashy red convertible pulled into the driveway. She swept into the living room, a disappointed look on her face when she didn’t immediately spot her target. “Where is he? Are you hiding him?” “Upstairs. Probably still studying how to be a proper long-lost son.” Isabella burst out laughing. “My father mentioned something about it. Said he put on a whole waterworks show at the dinner table and your parents didn’t even blink?” “More or less,” I said, setting my book down. “My father told him he was loud, and my mother told him to learn some table manners.” “Priceless,” Isabella said, slapping her thigh. “What an idiot, can’t even follow the script. Did he really think wealthy parents are all doting simpletons who revolve around their children?” As we were talking, footsteps descended the stairs. Leo had changed his clothes, but his expression was still sour. It seemed the complete dismantling of his worldview last night was still sinking in. “So this is him…” Isabella said, drawing out the words. “Yes. Leo.” Leo strode down the remaining steps and planted himself in front of us, his eyes fixed on Isabella. “You must be Adrian’s girlfriend, right?” 【Here it comes! The classic ‘drive a wedge between them’ move!】 【Go on, girl! Put him in his place!】 Isabella simply raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. Seeing her silence, Leo thought he’d struck a nerve and grew bolder. “I’m telling you, you should leave him while you can. He’s nothing but a fraud, an imposter who’s stolen my place. He doesn’t deserve you. Once my parents kick him out, he’ll be nothing. Stick with me, and the entire Hebert fortune will be ours.” I took a slow sip of my tea. Isabella smiled, a dazzling, cutting expression. “Kid, have you been reading so many of those trashy novels that your brain has turned to mush?” Leo’s face flushed a deep red. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means,” Isabella said, rising to her feet and stepping toward him, her height, amplified by her heels, giving her an overwhelming presence, “First, I’m not his girlfriend.” “Second, even if he is a ‘fraud,’ the business models and financial strategies inside his head are worth infinitely more than your little acceptance letter.” “And third, and most importantly,” she said, wagging a perfectly manicured finger at him. “You waltz in here making promises when you don’t even know who’s really in charge of this family? A lightweight like you isn’t even worthy of shining his shoes.” With a disdainful snort, Isabella turned and sat back down beside me. “Now run back upstairs,” she added without looking at him. “You’re an eyesore.” Leo glared at me, his chest heaving, before turning and stomping back up the stairs. Silence returned to the living room. Isabella swirled the coffee in her cup, turning to me with a wry smile. “This is the opponent you’re playing against? It’s almost too easy. A bit boring, don’t you think?” I looked at her, adjusted my glasses, and smiled back. She was right. Leo was just an appetizer. But no matter what other monsters or fools were waiting in the wings, one thing was certain. In this chaotic game that was only just beginning, Isabella Thorne was the one ally I could trust completely. 4 After Isabella’s verbal annihilation, Leo kept a low profile for a few days. He mostly sulked in the master suite he’d claimed, plotting God knows what. I was more than happy for the peace and quiet, and went about my days as usual, reading and managing my portfolio. But the tranquility only lasted for three days. On the fourth day, as I was heading downstairs for a glass of water, I saw Leo pacing back and forth near the top of the main staircase. He would peer down at the steep angle of the steps, then tentatively tap the edge of a stair with the toe of his shoe, muttering to himself. I leaned against the living room wall, water glass in hand, and watched him with a flicker of amusement. 【It’s happening! The classic ‘fall down the stairs’ scene!】 【My guess: the fake heir pushes the real one, the parents see it, and he’s disowned for good!】 【You got the script backwards. Obviously, the real heir is going to frame the fake one!】 【Finally! My heart is pounding, my hands are shaking! Is this it?】 I see. I adjusted my glasses, the picture becoming clear. It seemed Isabella’s words had gone completely over his head. For the next two days, he spent hours rehearsing near the staircase. Even from a distance, I could practically feel his internal struggle: Would the impact be greater if I landed head-first, or would the rolling posture be more convincing? Finally, he chose his auspicious day. That afternoon, my parents were out, leaving just the two of us and a few servants in the vast villa. As I was about to leave my study, I saw him waiting at the top of the stairs, a look of grim determination on his face. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, and he quickly shifted into position. One foot hovered in mid-air, his body leaned forward precariously, poised to tumble down at the slightest touch. I continued walking toward him, my pace steady. The comment stream went into a frenzy. 【Do it! Push him! Prove you’re not a coward!】 【This is it! The big moment! I can’t wait to see him roll!】 As I drew closer, Leo’s expression shifted from nervous to expectant, with a touch of theatrical martyrdom. I was just three steps away when my phone vibrated. I paused and pulled it out. It was a text from Peterson: 【Mr. Adrian, there is a gentleman at the door named Samuel. He claims to be your… brother.】 Another one. I glanced at Leo, still frozen in his absurd, one-legged pose, and gave him a polite nod. Then, I turned on my heel and walked toward the other staircase at the far end of the hall. Leo was completely petrified. He remained in his ridiculous pose, watching in disbelief as I calmly walked away. By the time I reached the grand foyer, Peterson was already escorting a young man inside. He was dressed in a simple white shirt and jeans, looking quiet, refined, and almost fragile. His eyes, however, bypassed me completely, locking onto Leo, who was still standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs. Leo finally snapped out of it, his face a mask of wary confusion as he stared at the intruder. The newcomer, Samuel, walked directly to the foot of the staircase. Then, from his canvas bag, he pulled out a file and threw it, hard, right into Leo’s face. The papers struck his skin with a sharp slap. Leo was stunned into silence. Samuel’s voice was soft, but it cut through the air with chilling clarity. “You imposter. It’s your turn to get out.”

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