I can’t stand the “cool girl” act—calling herself “one of the guys,” to get what she wants. While I am a walking lie detector. When my fiancé brought his “bestie” home, I sighed. “Fine. You two are soulmates. I’ll sleep under a bridge. The bed is yours.” Henry stared at me. “She’s just a buddy. I don’t even see her as a woman.” I took out a notebook. Henry leaned in. “Writing your will?” “Predicting how your ‘buddy’ will cross the line.” 1. Complain she’s hot and strip in front of you. 2. “Accidentally” spill a drink on your crotch, then wipe it with her hands. … Henry swore she wasn’t like that. Then his “buddy” screamed, poured coffee on his thigh, and grabbed his pants. “Take them off! We’ve known each other since diapers—let me check if you’re burned! I’ll blow on it!” I checked “spill drink on crotch” and held the notebook up. “Perfect score.” Henry clamped his legs together, remembering my list. “You’re overreacting. She’s just open and trying to help. Now put that away before you hurt her feelings.” 1 Summer’s hand was still on Henry’s belt as she giggled. “Monica, you’re not actually mad, are you?” “Henry and I go back more than a decade. I used to flick his little thingy when we were kids.” “This is just what friends do for each other.” I ignored her, looking down to write a new prediction in my notebook. Henry, fumbling with his belt, frowned at me. “Monica, is this really necessary? It was a small thing. Can’t you be a little more gracious? We’re all friends here.” Summer’s eyes welled up. “Monica, if it bothers you that I helped Henry, I just won’t touch him anymore.” I paid no mind to her crocodile tears, continuing to write. Seeing my silence, Henry snatched the notebook from my hands and threw it onto the sofa without even looking at it. “Stop writing! Who are you trying to impress with this passive-aggressive crap?” “Summer’s staying here tonight. The guest room isn’t ready, so she can have the master bedroom. We’ll sleep in the spare room.” I picked up my notebook and looked at him calmly. “Alright. Just a moment.” I drew a neat checkmark next to the line I had just written: “The cuckoo takes the nest, claims the master bedroom.” Henry caught sight of the checkmark, and his face turned to stone. “When did you write that?” I closed the notebook. “The moment you walked her through the door.” At that, Summer’s eyes instantly reddened. She grabbed Henry’s sleeve, tears streaming down her face. “Henry, I told you Monica wouldn’t accept me, didn’t I?” She made a show of leaving, but her steps were agonizingly slow, clearly waiting for him to stop her. As expected, Henry grabbed her arm and spun around to yell at me. “Monica! Are you trying to drive her to her death?” “Summer has a bad back! She can’t sleep on a hard mattress! What’s the big deal if you sleep in the spare room for a few nights?” I looked at the man I was about to marry, who was so brazenly kicking his fiancée out of their marital bedroom for another woman. I didn’t argue. I didn’t get angry. I just nodded, took my notebook, and walked toward the spare room. Behind me, I heard Summer’s triumphant little laugh. “Henry, you’re the best. I could just die, I love you so much.” “Oh, stop it, you. Go take a shower. I’ll come in and scrub your back in a bit.” I closed the door to the spare room and took out my phone, activating the recording feature on the hidden camera I’d installed. I’d originally set it up for security, never imagining I’d be using it to catch a thief already inside the house. Sitting on the rock-hard bed, I opened my notebook and wrote down my prediction for the night. Sure enough, at two in the morning, the door to our room was thrown open. Summer, wearing nothing but one of Henry’s oversized white shirts, burst in, sobbing. “Henry! The room doesn’t smell like you! I can’t sleep!” She bypassed me completely and threw herself onto Henry, trembling in his arms. He woke up groggily and instinctively wrapped his arms around her, his hand patting her back in a soothing rhythm. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here, Summer. It’s okay…” Click. I switched on the bedside lamp. In the harsh light, the scene was blindingly clear. Summer was straddling Henry’s waist, the top three buttons of her shirt undone, revealing a wide expanse of pale skin. One of Henry’s hands rested on her bare thigh. When the light came on, Summer shrieked and buried her head in Henry’s neck. “Monica… I’m so sorry, it was just instinct… Henry and I used to sleep like this all the time. You don’t mind, do you?” Henry was fully awake now. He didn’t push her away. Instead, he pulled the blanket up, covering her completely, and glared at me defensively. “Monica, what the hell? Can’t you see you scared her?” I said nothing, simply pulling my notebook from under my pillow with a deadpan expression. I put a checkmark next to “Pretends to be scared, climbs into bed in the middle of the night.” Then I held the book up right in front of his face. “Congratulations. Another direct hit.” Henry’s face turned a furious shade of purple. The shame of being so perfectly predicted morphed into rage. “You’re sick! That’s all you do, isn’t it? Just write in that stupid book!” He roared, pulling the woman in his arms even tighter. “Nothing happened! We’re just friends! You’re the one with a dirty mind who sees filth everywhere!” Summer sobbed in his embrace, making a weak attempt to get up. The hem of her shirt lifted, revealing that, just as I’d suspected, she was wearing nothing underneath. Henry quickly pushed her back down. “Don’t go anywhere! It’s storming outside! You’re sleeping here tonight!” I picked up my notebook and phone, threw back the covers, and got out of bed without another word. “Hope you two have a lovely night. May the thunder not strike you down.” I closed the door, shutting the whole absurd scene behind me. Lying on the living room sofa, I opened my phone and saved the footage I had just recorded. Then, I wrote down my predictions for the next day. The next morning, I was woken by the sound of flirtatious laughter from the kitchen. Summer, still in that loose shirt, was pressed against Henry’s back, her hands over his, “teaching” him how to fry an egg. “Oh, Henry, you’re so hopeless. You can’t even flip it right.” “Stop moving, that tickles.” They laughed and played, looking for all the world like a pair of newlyweds. I stood in the kitchen doorway, feeling like an intruder in my own home. When Summer saw me, she let out an exaggerated gasp. “Monica, you’re awake! Come try the special breakfast Henry made with love.” Henry adjusted his pajama top. “Now that you’re up, go wash your face. Don’t just stand there.” “Summer specifically asked me to make a portion for you. Don’t be ungrateful.” I walked into the bathroom and found my toothbrush in the trash can. In its place, in my cup, were two toothbrushes: Henry’s, and a new pink one. Their heads were nestled together intimately. I walked out carrying the trash can. “Care to explain?” Summer stuck out her tongue, the picture of innocence. “Oops, sorry, Monica. I was still half-asleep this morning. I thought that was my old one, so I just tossed it.” “I bought that pink one yesterday. It’s a matching set with Henry’s. Cute, right?” Henry walked over with a plate, his brow furrowed with annoyance. “It’s a damn toothbrush. Is it really worth all this drama? I’ll send you a hundred bucks later, go buy yourself a new one! Can you please not start a fight first thing in the morning?” I took a deep breath, pulled out my notebook, and checked off “Takes over my space, throws out my things.” The sight of the notebook made Henry’s temper flare. “Monica! Are you ever going to stop with that?” I showed him the notebook. The next prediction was: “Feeds him in front of me.” Henry sneered. “Impossible! I have my own hands. Why the hell would I need her to feed me?” The words had barely left his mouth when Summer picked up a piece of fried egg, blew on it, and casually held it to Henry’s lips. “Henry, open up. Ahhh—this one’s a little burnt. Can you taste it for me and see if it’s okay?” Henry instinctively opened his mouth and ate the egg. After a few chews, he froze. The silence in the room was absolute. I calmly put a checkmark next to “Feeds him in front of me.” “Such a good boy.” Henry’s face went crimson. He didn’t know whether to swallow the egg in his mouth or spit it out. The humiliation of being read like a book finally made him snap. “MONICA!!” Summer, as if just realizing the situation, threw her chopsticks down and burst into tears. “Why are you always targeting me, Monica? All I did was give Henry a bite of egg!” “We used to feed each other all the time when we were kids and it was never a problem! Why is it suddenly a crime with you? Why is your mind so dirty?” She grabbed a fruit knife from the table and made a show of pressing it to her wrist. Henry was terrified. He snatched the knife away and pulled Summer into a protective embrace. When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with disgust and hatred, as if I were the most vile woman on earth. “Are you satisfied now, Monica? Are you going to be happy when you’ve driven her to suicide?” I looked at the hysterical Henry and the woman hiding in his arms, who was now shooting me a victorious smirk. I nodded. “Fine. I’ll leave.” When I came out with my suitcase, Summer was sitting on Henry’s lap, dabbing sweat from his forehead. I stopped at the door and tossed the densely filled notebook onto the coffee table. “Henry, this is for you. Consider it an early wedding present.” “There’s one last prediction in there. You can see if it comes true.” Henry picked up the notebook with contempt and flipped to the last page. He scoffed. “You’re insane! Absolutely delusional!” He threw the notebook into the trash without a second thought and turned back to comforting the woman in his arms, not even sparing me a final glance. I sat in the coffee shop downstairs, watching the live feed from the hidden camera on my phone. I knew. My predictions about her type were never wrong. After I left, the show on my phone screen was quite a spectacle. Within two days, Summer had found the six-figure, custom-made reception dress I’d had made for our wedding. It was hand-embroidered, with an impossibly small waist. Summer was a size larger than me, but she tried to squeeze into it anyway, whining. “Monica’s clothes are just so pretty. What’s the big deal if I borrow it?” With a sharp rrrrrip, the sound of tearing fabric came through the monitor. My heart bled at that moment, but Henry just sighed with helpless affection. “If it ripped, it ripped. I’ll just buy her another one later. The important thing is you didn’t hurt yourself.” Next, she had him open my safe and put on the five-carat diamond ring he had spent his entire savings on. “Henry, doesn’t this ring look so much better on my hand than on Monica’s?” Henry’s eyes were glazed over. As if possessed, he nodded. “Yeah. It looks beautiful.” I sneered at the screen, saving the recording of it all. That weekend was Henry’s grandfather’s eightieth birthday party. I put on some haggard-looking makeup, wore my oldest clothes, and showed up at the Blackwood family estate right on time, carrying a basket of organic eggs. The moment I pushed open the door, the entire party fell silent. Summer was wearing my reception dress—which she’d had altered to fit her—and my diamond ring, arm-in-arm with Henry as they greeted guests. “Well, look who it is,” Summer said, her eyes glinting with provocation. “Why are you dressed like a beggar? You’re embarrassing Henry.” I ignored her and walked straight to Henry’s grandfather, setting down the basket. “Grandpa, I’m so sorry I’m late…” Grandpa Blackwood took my hand, his face etched with concern. “Monica, dear, you’re so thin! Hasn’t Henry been taking care of you?” My eyes welled up. I fixed my gaze on Summer and pointed with a trembling finger. “My reception dress… and my engagement ring… why are they on you?” The room erupted in whispers. The relatives’ expressions immediately turned strange. Henry panicked and rushed over to pull me away. “Monica! What are you talking about? You said you didn’t want the dress! And you lent the ring to Summer!” “Don’t make a scene in front of everyone!” I shook his hand off and took a step back. “When did I ever lend it to her?” “Henry, you opened your fiancée’s safe just to please your little ‘buddy’?” That single sentence shattered his public image. Seeing things go south, Summer immediately clutched her stomach and collapsed. “Oww… my stomach hurts… Henry, did Monica poison the wine…? I think I’m dying…” It was a clumsy performance that anyone could see through. But to escape the crushing embarrassment of the moment, Henry chose to believe it. He stormed toward me and, without a word, raised his hand and slapped me across the face. CRACK! The sharp sound echoed through the hall. The force of the blow sent me sprawling to the floor. My hand landed on a piece of broken glass, and blood began to flow. A collective gasp went through the crowd. Grandpa Blackwood was shaking with rage. He raised his cane. “You bastard! Who do you think you’re hitting?” “Get this homewrecker out of my sight! Get out of this house! Both of you!” I slowly lifted my head, wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, and the last spark of warmth in my eyes died out. “Henry, you really think you’re God’s gift, don’t you?” He paused, turning back with a sneer. “What? Regretting it now? Want to get on your knees and beg me not to leave? Unless you bow to Summer three times right now, I…” BOOM! A loud crash cut him off. The heavy doors of the banquet hall were kicked open from the outside. A group of security guards filed in, blocking the exit. Henry stumbled back, his face pale. “Who are you? You dare to barge into the Blackwood estate? Do you have a death wish?” The lead guard shoved him, sending him stumbling back into the center of the hall. I walked toward him, step by step, and pulled the notebook from my bag, a cold smile on my lips. “Break off the engagement? Of course.” “But before you walk out that door, we have some accounts to settle.” I raised the notebook and slapped it hard across his face. “You think you can just hit me and walk away? Life doesn’t work like that.” “Lock the doors! No one leaves until I say so!” Henry watched the approaching guards and screamed, “Monica! What do you think you’re doing? This is my family’s house! You wouldn’t dare touch me!” I let out a cold laugh and walked over to the pair, now pinned down by my guards. “I’m just here to take back what’s mine. And collect a little interest.” Before the words were even out, I swung my hand with all my might and struck Henry twice across the face. SLAP! SLAP! The blows were far harder than the one he had given me. His face swelled instantly, and blood trickled from his lip. He started to struggle and curse, but a guard kicked him behind the knee, and he fell to his knees before me with a thud. “Those were to teach you some manners.” Then, my gaze, sharp as a knife, turned to Summer, who was cowering behind him. I pointed to the diamond ring on her finger. “Take it off.” Summer clutched her hand, shaking her head frantically. “No… Henry gave this to me…” I didn’t waste any more words. I gave a nod to the guard. He moved forward, ignoring her screams, and brutally ripped the ring from her finger, tearing the skin. “AHH! My hand!” Summer shrieked. I took the ring, wiped it disgustedly with a sanitary wipe, and put it in my pocket. “There. The trash has been taken out.” I pointed to the door. “Now, take your garbage and get out.” Henry scrambled to his feet. Hearing the whispers of the guests and the furious shouts of his grandfather, his eyes burned with a venomous hatred. He wanted to threaten me, but one look at the stone-faced guards at the door made him bite his tongue. He clenched his jaw and dragged Summer out of the hall. I turned to face the stunned guests, my eyes finally landing on my grandfather, who was still trembling with rage. My voice was calm and resolute. “Since everyone is here, you can all be my witnesses.” In front of the entire Blackwood clan, I officially broke off our engagement. And I demanded that Henry return my half of the down payment for our house: two hundred thousand dollars. Back at our apartment, Henry smashed the coffee table in a rage. “That bitch! How dare Monica make me kneel in public!” Summer huddled on the sofa, clutching her swollen finger, a vicious, calculating glint in her eyes. “Henry, Monica is ruthless… She didn’t just hit you, she humiliated you. She’s trying to destroy your reputation in our circle, to make sure you can never hold your head up again!” Seeing Henry’s thunderous expression, she quickly pulled out her phone and cued up a video. “Good thing I was smart enough to secretly record it.” “She wants to ruin you? We’ll strike first. We’ll use public opinion to crush her! When we’re done, you won’t have to pay her back a dime. She’ll be the one on her knees, begging you for forgiveness!” Henry watched the video, a savage grin spreading across his face. “Post it! Post it now! I want her to know what happens when you cross me!” That night, a video went viral in our city.

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On Christmas, our fifth year together, I tore apart the house looking for a missing stocking—the one holding the custom engagement ring I’d bought him. Then the police called. Vincent had been in a bad fight. I hurried to the station, signed him out, and saw his face bruised, smelling of cheap whiskey. He stayed silent about what happened. Later, his phone lit up with messages from a female colleague, Erin: Vincent, thank you for standing up to my ex-husband. Without you these past months, my son and I wouldn’t have made it. Leo loves the stocking you gave him. He waits for “Daddy Vincent” every day. Give us a family. Enraged, I threw the phone. We fought bitterly. I was hysterical; he called me heartless. Finally, he promised to transfer Erin to another team and cut all contact. And it seemed he had—their work chats were strictly professional. Until I found the hidden space on his phone. They’d just moved their conversations to a private account, full of photos with Erin and her son, all warmly congratulated. Scrolling back to Christmas night, I saw her message: I found a ring in the stocking. Is your girlfriend proposing? I can return it. He replied: Don’t. Pretend you never saw it. I’m not ready to marry. Fine. He’d get his wish. After five years, it was time for me to go home. 1 Vincent was busy in the kitchen. “Chloe, I’ve reheated everything a few times. It might not taste great anymore.” “Tell me what you want, I’ll order something. Or I can take you out. That new Japanese place on the corner is still…” He turned and saw my tear-filled eyes. His expression softened instantly. “Hey, come on. Don’t be like that.” “You’re the most understanding girl in the world, right?” I pulled away from his touch, my voice cold. “Get the Christmas stocking back.” Vincent’s smile froze. He tore off his apron, balled it up, and threw it at my feet. He pointed a trembling finger at my face for a moment before forcing out a single, grit-toothed word. “Fine.” He made the call. Erin said her son had accidentally ripped a seam in the stocking. “I’m so sorry. Tell me how much it was, and I’ll pay you back.” Vincent looked like he was about to lose it. One Christmas stocking. A never-ending drama. “It’s fine,” he said into the phone. “Chloe’s just throwing a little tantrum. I’ll buy her a new…” “It’s not the same, Vincent,” I cut in. Suddenly, he smashed the phone against the wall. It exploded into pieces, and a few shards flew out, cutting my arm and drawing blood. His voice boomed. “What the hell is your problem today?!” “It’s a damn Christmas stocking, Chloe! Could you be any more obvious about your grudge against Erin?” I stared at him, stunned. Vincent pulled a wad of cash from his wallet and threw it in my face. The bills scattered, and among them were three ticket stubs from an amusement park. “Is that enough?” He pulled out a credit card. And threw it at me. “IS THAT ENOUGH?!” “I’M PAYING YOU BACK FOR HER!” My ears were ringing. In six years, this was the first time Vincent had ever been truly angry with me. He looked vicious, like he wanted to devour me whole. A dull ache bloomed in my chest. I was so hurt I couldn’t speak. All I could do was fumble through my phone’s photo album, desperately searching for the proof—the evidence from five years ago when he’d promised to marry me on this very day. He was the one who had forgotten. “That’s enough. Let’s both just cool off for a night.” Vincent pushed my phone away. “Chloe, you need to take a long, hard look at your own jealousy.” The door slammed shut. I started dry-heaving, my body convulsing uncontrollably. I clutched the fabric over my heart. It was the only thing that seemed to ease the feeling of suffocation. When the tears finally stopped and I could breathe again, I pulled myself off the floor and started packing my few belongings. I had arrived six years ago, full of courage and alone. I would leave six years later, just as alone. Erin posted on her private account. The caption read: 【The happiest Christmas ever.】 The photo was taken at an upscale restaurant. Vincent was holding her son, and Erin was nestled against his side. While I had been gone, they had gone out for a feast. The table was laden with food. The dishes Vincent had been reheating in the kitchen were their leftovers. Including a shrimp dish—Erin’s favorite, and a deadly allergen for me. He hadn’t even thought to pick them out for me. Vincent’s assistant had commented: “Whoa, that was fast. Erin’s charm is no joke.” “And to think Vincent is always going on at work about how he’s not the marrying type. Guess he fell for her in the end.” The screen went dark, reflecting my ashen face. My hands were shaking as I packed the last of my things. At the very bottom of my suitcase was the bus ticket from my journey to Chicago six years ago. A 32-hour ride. But my six years of devotion had never been real to him. 2 It was laughable, really. After all these years in Chicago, I had no friends, no job. The only money I had was what Vincent had thrown at me last night. The only thing I had learned was how to revolve around him. I learned to cook for him, to put him first, to empty my savings to buy him a twenty-thousand-dollar watch just to see him smile. I was such a fool. A fool who had offered up her heart, completely exposed, for him to trample on. “One ticket to Miami, please.” The woman behind the counter suddenly spoke. “Hey… aren’t you the girl from six years ago?” I looked up, a hint of color returning to my pale face. “You remember me?” The woman smiled. “How could anyone forget you two?” “Your boyfriend waited outside the station for you for a whole day and night. The snow was piling up on his shoulders, but he wouldn’t move, terrified he’d miss you.” “We told him to go inside, get a cup of coffee to warm up, but he just gave this shy smile and said he was starting a business, that he’d spent all his money on a gift for you. He couldn’t even afford a train ticket, said he’d walked for five hours just to get to the station.” I listened, captivated. My chest felt tight, a bitter ache spreading through it. From a rundown squat, to a tiny rental, to the spacious penthouse we lived in now. He had shouldered all the hardship alone. With hands raw from frostbite and calluses, he had built a life for us, brick by brick. A home. “We won’t have to be afraid of the winter anymore,” he’d said. “Chloe… I was so scared you would come find me. And so scared you wouldn’t.” “I was terrified you’d have to suffer with me.” “But I was even more terrified that you didn’t love me.” He had cried that day. He held me so tightly I thought I would merge into his body. My own tears streamed down my face. It was supposed to be a happy memory. How had it become so painful? “Here’s your ticket, honey.” My fingertips trembled as I took it. It felt less like a ticket and more like a blade, meant to sever the past. “Don’t cry.” The ticket agent glanced at the expensive jade bracelet on my wrist and seemed to relax a little. “When you build a life with a man from nothing, don’t measure it in love. Measure it in money. Measure it by how willing he is to provide for you.” I nodded. The ticket was crumpled in my fist. Just before boarding, Vincent arrived. He ran toward me, just like he had six years ago, and pulled me into a fierce hug. I could hear his ragged breathing, his frantic heartbeat, the tremor in his voice. “Don’t go…” “Chloe, I was just angry with you. I wasn’t trying to kick you out…” Vincent tore up my ticket, swept me into his arms, and placed me in the passenger seat of his car. “You don’t want me seeing Erin, right?” “I had her transferred. I’ll keep my distance from now on.” I was silent. I stared numbly at the little charm dangling from the rearview mirror—a gift from Erin. The car was filled with the scent of citrus—Erin’s perfume. The glove compartment, which used to be filled with my things, was now stuffed with snacks for a child and several tubes of lipstick that weren’t mine. I blinked, my eyes feeling incredibly dry. Vincent didn’t notice. He was chattering on about taking me to Japan for the holidays. I sighed softly. I didn’t even have the energy to nod. 3 Vincent never mentioned Erin again. Their chat history was strictly professional. It was a clean break. “Chloe, I’m up for the VP position, so things are going to be really busy for a while.” His voice sounded distant over the phone. Unreal. “I transferred some money to your account. Go out, do some shopping, buy yourself something nice. Don’t put all your energy into me.” He would come home after I was already asleep. He would leave in the morning while I was still dreaming. There was always breakfast he’d warmed up for me in the microwave, and my dirty clothes would be washed and hung to dry on the balcony. Every corner of the house held a trace of Vincent. I could see him. But I could no longer reach him. I could feel us drifting apart, our relationship rusting over. If you polished away the rust, it almost looked the same as before. But it was lighter now. Floating. A strong gust of wind could send it tumbling away. I was planning to take the money and leave, but then came the biggest complication of all: I was pregnant. At first, it was just fatigue, loss of appetite, constant nausea. I told Vincent. The next day, he brought home a bag full of pills for me to take. He didn’t even give me any instructions before rushing out the door again. It wasn’t until I felt terribly sick from the medication that I went to the hospital and found out. “We’ll have to run more tests to see if you can keep the baby,” the doctor said, her brow furrowed. “After taking so many antibiotics, there’s a risk of birth defects.” Two nurses had to help me out of the examination room. I spent the next six hours in the waiting area, the most agonizing six hours of my life. The backs of my hands were covered in bruises from where I’d dug my nails in. My eyes were wide open, streaming with tears of guilt. I cursed myself for not realizing sooner. For not being more careful with the medication. For just swallowing whatever Vincent handed me without a second thought. “For now, everything looks okay. Come back for a follow-up next month.” I was flooded with relief. My mood lifted, and I even ate an extra bowl of rice that evening. Vincent came home late that night. He reeked of alcohol, his cheek was split open and bleeding, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. “Did you get into a fight?” He mumbled something and went straight to the bathroom. His work phone, which he’d tossed on the bed, buzzed with a notification. 【Erin: Vincent, thank you so much for standing up for me today. Otherwise, my ex-husband would never stop harassing me.】 【Erin: I’ve been so helpless. If it weren’t for you being there for me these past few months, my son and I wouldn’t have made it. Leo loves you so much. He waits every day for Daddy Vincent to come play. Vincent, please, give us a family.】 The words hammered at my nerves. It hurt. My whole body felt like it was about to explode. Daddy Vincent… Then who would my child call daddy? Give us a family. Then what about my family? The one thing I had longed for my entire life, a safe harbor from the storm, was gone. Torn to shreds by Vincent’s own hands. I bit my tongue, the pain forcing me to stay focused as I scrolled through their entire chat history. They had never stopped talking. They had just moved from the open to the private. From his main account to a private one filled with friends and family, where every photo with Erin and her son was met with joyful blessings. I had been abandoned. Again. 【Erin: I found a ring in the stocking. Is your girlfriend planning to propose? I can bring it back.】 【Vincent: No need. Just pretend you never saw it. I’m not ready to get married yet.】 I couldn’t maintain my composure any longer. With trembling hands, I typed a reply: 【You like being the other woman that much? You can have my trash. He’s all yours.】 “Chloe, what are you doing with my phone?!” 4 Vincent’s gentleness, his thoughtfulness—it all vanished the second I crossed a line. He yanked me so hard I stumbled. I fell against the edge of the bed. Ignoring the sharp pain in my abdomen, I scrambled up and slapped him across the face. His already swollen face grew darker. He stared at the phone in my hand. “Give it to me.” I didn’t move. He lunged for it. He grabbed my hand, prying my fingers off one by one. There was a sickening crack as my knuckles twisted at an unnatural angle. He wrenched the phone from my grasp as I cried out in pain. “You can’t unsend it, Vincent. It’s too late.” I started laughing. It was a wild, unhinged sound. “I called her a homewrecker. A slut. Does that hurt your feelings?” “Erin is a…” CRACK. I was thrown back onto the bed. The slap knocked the words right out of my throat. They tumbled down into my stomach, twisting into pain, into nausea, into thorny vines that grew and tore me apart from the inside out. My eye throbbed, swollen and hot. I wondered if it had burst. Why else would it be leaking so much warmth? It couldn’t be tears. It had to be blood. “Do you have any idea how much you’re hurting her?!” Vincent roared. “Chloe, you’re going to drive her to suicide!” “Will you only be happy when she’s dead?!” My voice was a raw whisper. “Yes.” “I hope you all die.” Vincent went to the kitchen and came back with a knife. He forced it into my hand and held it to his own throat. His eyes were crazed, ready to take us both down. “Go on. Kill me.” “If you have the guts, then do it!” “Chloe, I never said I wouldn’t marry you. I just can’t deal with Erin’s situation and you at the same time.”

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1 I am the shame of the entire journalistic world. Chasing a “thrill,” I ended up starring in sleazy indie films that bordered on porn, and I picked up a drug habit to match. My ex-wife, Chief Medical Examiner Beth Williams, was disgusted by the man I’d become—a man who’d bare anything for a buck. She was the one who personally threw me out. Eventually, just as she wanted, I vanished completely. Five years later, Beth got a call from the police department, asking her to come identify a “lost child.” “Ma’am, can you help me find my daddy? He was sleeping in a red suitcase, and someone carried him away.” My daughter’s words sent a ripple of laughter through the station. To them, I was just another junkie, probably high out of my mind and off on a bender, abandoning his own kid. Beth’s face was a thundercloud. “Where is that bastard Ethan hiding now?” she demanded. “Did he run out of cash for his next fix and send you to beg for it?” Floating in the air, I watched my daughter, Sweetie, hold up a cloth doll stained with red specks. “Daddy said,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “this is a present for the hero lady. It has the bad guys’ secrets inside.” … I hovered in the air, a weightless ghost, watching my little Sweetie. She sat on a hard bench in the police station, her tiny body caked in filth, clutching that blood-stained doll as if it were her lifeline. Her face was so smudged with grime you could barely see the sweet girl underneath, her hair a tangled mess of knots. A nearby officer shot her a look of pure contempt before dialing a number. “Dr. Williams? It’s about your ex-husband. He’s done a runner again, dumped his kid at the station.” The officer’s voice dripped with scorn. “A junkie’s a junkie. They don’t give a damn about anyone when they need a fix.” I’d grown numb to the venomous words, the casual cruelty. But I couldn’t bear for Sweetie to hear them. I tried desperately to cover her ears, but my ghostly hands passed right through her small frame, useless. Over the phone, Beth’s voice was sharp and clear. “I’m on my way.” Thirty minutes later, she strode into the station. The biting scent of disinfectant and formaldehyde clung to her, her white lab coat still on, her brow furrowed in a deep, impatient line. She completely ignored Sweetie, her eyes locking onto the officer. “Where’s Ethan?” The officer shrugged. “Can’t reach him. Phone’s off, and he’s not at his place.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped Beth’s lips. “He probably OD’d in some filthy ditch. Good riddance. One less piece of trash for society to clean up.” At the sound of her voice, Sweetie looked up, her small face hopeful. “Ma’am, are you my mommy? Daddy said my mommy is a hero.” Beth recoiled as if struck, taking a sharp step back from Sweetie’s outstretched, grimy hand. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I don’t have some druggie’s brat for a daughter.” Sweetie froze, her eyes instantly welling with tears. She hurriedly lifted the doll toward Beth. “Daddy said… if I give this to the hero lady, she’ll give me food.” Beth slapped the doll from her hand. “Get that filthy thing away from me!” Sweetie tumbled to the floor. She scrambled to pick up her doll, her small hands gently brushing the dust from its fabric as sobs shook her body. Beth crouched down, her eyes boring into Sweetie. “Where is your father?” “A bad lady put Daddy in a box,” Sweetie choked out between sobs, hugging the doll tighter. “The box was leaking… so much red water. Daddy told me to run, to give the doll to the lady…” The surrounding officers burst into laughter. “A red suitcase? Sounds like the kid inherited her dad’s psychosis.” “Probably just Ethan tripping, and the kid’s making up stories to match.” “Or maybe his dealers finally caught up with him. He skipped out on his debts and fed the kid some story about a red suitcase to get her off his back.” Beth’s face hardened as she listened to their crude jokes. She grabbed Sweetie’s arm and dragged her toward the exit. “You’re coming with me. We’ll see when your deadbeat father finally decides to show his face.” As she unlocked her car, the sudden flash of the headlights illuminated Sweetie’s bare arms. They were a horrifying mosaic of bruises and tiny pinpricks. Beth’s expression shifted from anger to pure fury. “That son of a bitch,” she seethed. “He’s actually shooting up a kid this small?” No! I screamed, my voice lost to the wind. That’s from the hospital! From the blood tests for her illness! But Beth couldn’t hear me. In her eyes, I was a monster who had sunk so low as to turn his own daughter into an addict. Sweetie, oblivious to the storm raging inside the woman before her, clutched her rumbling stomach. “Ma’am,” she whispered, “I’m hungry. I want some white powder.” Beth thought she was jonesing for a fix. The fury in her eyes blazed hotter. “You want drugs at your age? Go find your junkie mother for that!” Sweetie trembled, terrified. “No, not that… baby formula. Daddy said the white powder is formula.” “Still lying!” Beth wrenched open the back door and tossed Sweetie inside. “He’s even passed his addiction on to his child. Ethan, you deserve to rot in hell!” The car door slammed shut. Huddled in the back, Sweetie hugged her doll, her voice a tiny, heartbroken whisper. “Daddy… Daddy, are you coming back?” Beth heard her. “I hope he never comes back,” she spat, her voice laced with ice. I pressed my spectral face against the window, watching my daughter curled up in the darkness and the cold, unyielding woman in the driver’s seat. Silent tears streamed down my face. 2 Beth brought Sweetie back to her villa. I recognized the pristine interior instantly. It was our marital home. Everything was still spotless, but every trace of my existence had been scrubbed clean, erased as if I’d never been there at all. Sweetie stood frozen at the doorway, staring at the polished floors. Afraid to dirty them, she quietly slipped off her tattered shoes and stood barefoot in the entryway. “Beth, you’re back.” A man in silk pajamas emerged from the master bedroom. It was Leo, the boy my mother had taken in after my own father died. After I fell from grace and left home, he had seamlessly slipped into the void I left behind, taking my place beside my mother and Beth. He stopped short when he saw Sweetie. “And who is this…?” “That bastard Ethan’s,” Beth said, shrugging off her coat with a weary sigh. “He dumped her and ran off again.” Leo approached Sweetie and knelt down. “What’s your name, little one?” Sweetie clutched her doll, shrinking away from him. “Sweetie.” “What a lovely name.” Leo smiled, reaching out to pat her head, but she flinched away. His smile faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, warmer than before. “She’s filthy. Why don’t I give her a bath?” Beth nodded, and Leo took Sweetie’s hand, leading her to the bathroom. A sense of dread washed over me, and I rushed to follow them. The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, the gentle mask fell from Leo’s face. He turned the water on, deliberately making it scalding hot. Sweetie shrieked in pain, but Leo pretended not to hear, scrubbing viciously at the cuts and bruises on her small body. “Shut up,” he hissed. “You’re a junkie’s daughter. You don’t have the right to cry.” I lunged at him, a phantom screaming in fury, but my hands passed through him, completely useless. I could only watch in horror as he tormented my child. After the bath, Leo led Sweetie out, a look of deep concern etched on his face. “Beth, look at this,” he said, his voice a low, troubled murmur. “The poor girl is covered in injuries. It seems Ethan’s life on the streets… has been rough. I can’t imagine what this child has been through with him.” Beth’s expression grew even darker. “What else would you expect from a junkie?” “Don’t be angry, Beth,” Leo soothed. “You’ve done more than enough for him.” Sweetie’s eyes lit up at the sight of bread on the kitchen counter, but she didn’t dare move toward it. Beth grabbed a slice and tossed it at her feet, as if feeding a stray. Starving, Sweetie ignored the humiliation, snatched the bread, and began to devour it, nearly choking in her haste. But she only ate half. Carefully, she wrapped the remaining piece and tucked it deep inside her pocket. Beth’s brow furrowed. “Why did you stop eating?” Frightened by her harsh tone, Sweetie stammered, “For… for Daddy. Daddy’s in the box. He doesn’t have any food.” “He’s probably off selling his body for drug money,” Beth sneered. “I doubt he’s starving.” Sweetie didn’t seem to understand. She pulled a crumpled bill from her pocket, smoothed it out carefully, and held it out to Beth. “Ma’am, Daddy said I can’t take things from people for free. This is all the money I have.” It was the last ten-dollar bill I had, earned from selling my blood to pay for Sweetie’s medicine. A faint, dark stain still marked the corner. My blood. Beth slapped the money out of her hand. “Save it,” she said cruelly. “You can use it to buy him a coffin.” The bill fluttered to the floor. Sweetie crawled over, picked it up, folded it neatly, and placed it back in her pocket. “Daddy said if I’m a good girl, he’ll come back.” “You actually believe a junkie’s promises?” Beth lit a cigarette. “He can’t even take care of himself. What makes you think he’s coming back for you?” Sweetie shook her head, her voice firm. “Daddy really is in the red suitcase. I saw him.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I saw the bad lady hit Daddy, and lots of red water came out… The doll got red water on it too. Daddy said it has the bad guys’ secrets inside…” “ENOUGH!” Beth shot to her feet, her voice cracking like a whip. “Did that bastard teach you to lie at such a young age? What red suitcase? What bad guys? It’s all just a pathetic act he cooked up!” Terrified, Sweetie collapsed to the floor, sobbing. My heart shattered. I reached for her, desperate to hold my daughter, but my arms passed right through her trembling, little body. I’m so sorry, Sweetie. Daddy is so useless. Leo stepped forward and placed a calming hand on Beth’s arm. “Don’t be upset, Beth. It’s normal for a child to pick up bad habits from someone like that. We can teach her better.” He turned to Sweetie. “Honey, what your daddy did was very wrong. But your aunt and I will teach you how to be a good girl.” I stared at Leo, my spectral form shaking with a rage so profound it felt like it could tear the world apart. I wanted to rip that hypocritical mask from his face. 3 Before Leo could finish his sentence, my mother burst into the villa. Sweetie was still on the floor, her small body wracked with gut-wrenching sobs as she clutched her doll. The sight of her sent my mother into a blind rage. “Is that Ethan’s bastard child from the streets?!” Sweetie flinched and scrambled backward, pulling the doll in close. “Grandma…” she whispered. “Who are you calling Grandma?!” my mother shrieked, lunging forward and shoving Sweetie hard. “The Hayes family has no room for filthy trash like you!” Sweetie fell, her head cracking against the sharp corner of the glass coffee table. Blood instantly welled from the gash, streaming down her face. “NO! Mom! She’s not a bastard!” I screamed, throwing myself in front of Sweetie, my ghostly fingers trembling with fear and rage. But no one could see me. “Mom!” Beth cried, rushing to help Sweetie. “Don’t you dare touch her!” my mother snarled, pointing a shaking finger at Beth. “Who knows what whore Ethan knocked up to have this thing! What were you thinking, bringing her here?!” I watched, paralyzed, as my daughter’s blood pooled on the pristine floor. I wanted to hold her, to wipe away the blood, but I could do nothing. How I wished I were still alive, just so I could protect my little girl. “Daddy…” Sweetie cried as she struggled to sit up, blood dripping into her eyes. “It hurts, Daddy…” “I hope it hurts you to death!” my mother sneered. “Your father is a degenerate animal who sold his body for porn and drugs until he was less than human. You’re no better!” “My daddy is not a bad man!” Sweetie suddenly shouted, her voice ringing with conviction. “My daddy is a hero!” “A hero?” My mother laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “A junkie who gets naked for cameras is a hero? Is that what they call heroes now?” She turned her fury on Beth. “I’m giving you two choices. Either you send this little mongrel to a group home, or I’ll drop dead right here. You decide!” Leo quickly moved to support my mother as she swayed. “Mom, please, don’t get worked up. Think about your health.” “How can I not be worked up?” she gasped, clutching her chest. “That bastard Ethan has dragged the Hayes family name through the mud! And now he expects us to raise his bastard child? In his dreams!” Beth stood frozen, her face a mask of pale exhaustion. She looked from the bleeding child on the floor to her furious, trembling mother-in-law. “I’ll contact social services,” she finally said, closing her eyes. Her voice was hollow. “As soon as I’m done with my current case, I’ll take her.” “No…” Sweetie sobbed, crawling to Beth’s feet. “I’ll be good, I promise. I don’t want anything. I just want to find my daddy…” “Your daddy abandoned you!” Beth kicked her away. “And stop telling those ridiculous lies!” Just then, Beth’s phone rang. “Dr. Williams, we’ve got a development in the Blackwood River dismemberment case. We found a complete red suitcase at the scene. We need you down here immediately.” Beth hung up and glanced at the sobbing child on the floor. “She’s coming with me.” “Beth…” Leo began softly. “Maybe it’s better if she stays here.” “Just take care of Mom,” Beth replied, her tone final. My mother snorted. “Good. Leave her at a crime scene. Maybe she’ll get lost and die there. At least I won’t have to look at her.” Leo helped my mother to the couch, murmuring comforting words. “Mom, don’t be angry. Let me get you some water.” As he turned toward the kitchen, I saw it clearly: a subtle, cruel curve of his lips. I knew he was the one who had tipped off my mother, but there was nothing I could do to expose his treachery. I could only watch as Beth picked Sweetie up like a sack of garbage and threw her into the car. The car sped through the night. Sweetie was curled in the back, the blood on her forehead now a dark, sticky crust. She hugged her doll and whispered into the darkness. “Daddy, I found the lady, but she doesn’t believe me…” “Daddy, I’m so scared…” “Daddy, are you cold in the box? Please come get me…” My heart felt like it was being shredded. I floated as close to her as I could, praying she might feel even a flicker of my presence, a whisper of warmth. I’m so sorry, Sweetie. Daddy is so useless. I couldn’t even make sure you’d be safe. 4 The car screeched to a halt by the Blackwood River. Yellow police tape cordoned off the area, but a crowd of onlookers had already gathered. Beth pulled on a pair of latex gloves and knelt by the riverbank without a word. “Daddy! Daddy!” From inside the car, Sweetie saw the red suitcase and began pounding on the window. Police Captain Miller frowned. “Dr. Williams, what’s the kid doing here?” “Ethan’s bastard,” Beth said without looking up. “She’s going to a group home after this.” Miller sighed. “Poor kid. Having a father like Ethan is a tough break.” “Poor?” Beth scoffed. “She’s five years old and already knows how to lie to get what she wants.” I watched my daughter, her cries growing hoarse until she could barely breathe, and my soul ached. I looked at the woman she had become—this cold, bitter stranger—and remembered a day seven years ago. She had been shielding me from an attacker, her arm sliced open to the bone, but her eyes were fierce and unwavering. “No matter what happens,” she had promised me, “I will always believe you.” Who could have imagined it would come to this? The sound of the suitcase zipper was unnaturally loud in the night air. A foul stench billowed out, so overpowering that several younger officers gagged and ran to the side to vomit. Inside the suitcase was what was left of me. My face was an unrecognizable ruin, destroyed by acid. My head was shaved. My body was contorted into a grotesque, unnatural position. Beth used a pair of forceps to examine the corpse’s arm. “Victim has extensive track marks,” she reported to Miller, her voice clinical. “A long-term intravenous drug user. Cause of death appears to be exsanguination. The killer’s technique is professional. Looks more like a targeted hit.” She stood and stripped off her gloves. “Send him to the morgue for a full autopsy.” When Beth returned to the car, Sweetie was still frantically pounding on the glass, her voice raw. “Daddy… don’t go…” Beth glanced at her in the rearview mirror, her voice like ice. “Be quiet. That’s not your father! A man like him is probably shacked up in some whore’s bed right now!” Her voice cracked with menace. “If you make another sound, I’ll throw you to the dogs.” Sweetie’s small body flinched. She fell silent, but tears continued to stream down her face. In the morgue, Beth changed into blue scrubs and stood impassively before the autopsy table. “A classic junkie,” she said to her assistant, gesturing with disgust at the dense cluster of needle marks on my inner arm. “These people will do anything for money. He deserved to die.” I floated beside her, staring at those marks. They weren’t my choice, I wanted to scream. The traffickers shot me up every day to keep me compliant… But she would never know. As Beth’s examination moved to the ankles, her hand suddenly froze. There, on my left ankle, was a hideous, puckered scar, the flesh melted and mangled from a burn. “This scar…” Her assistant leaned in. “Given the shape and depth, it’s likely self-inflicted. It’s common for individuals in these marginalized groups to have severe psychological issues.” Beth didn’t respond. She just stared at the scar for a long, long time. So long that I almost believed she remembered. I would never forget that day. She had pointed at the fresh butterfly tattoo on my ankle, her face a mask of cold fury. “Ethan, have you no shame?” she’d spat. “Getting something so garish tattooed on you. Is it to make yourself more appealing when you’re out selling yourself?!” I offered no explanation. Instead, right there in front of her, I took a lit cigarette and pressed it into my own skin, again and again. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, and a pain so intense it made my entire body tremble seized me. But I clenched my jaw and refused to shed a single tear. “Are you satisfied now?” I had asked. She stared at me, her expression shifting from shock to confusion, and finally, to complete and utter revulsion. “If you’re so determined to destroy yourself,” she had said, her voice dripping with contempt, “then don’t be surprised when everyone in the world looks down on you, Ethan!” That was the last time we ever saw each other. … Beth’s hand, holding the scalpel, remained suspended in mid-air. After a long moment, she seemed to snap back to reality, resuming the autopsy with a renewed, almost brutal, efficiency. It wasn’t until her assistant opened my stomach that he let out a sharp gasp. “Dr. Williams, wait! There’s… there’s something hard in here!” He carefully extracted the object with a pair of tweezers and carried it to the sink to rinse it clean. As layers of grime washed away, a tiny inscription on the inside of a ring was gradually revealed. EH ❤ BW 05.20.2019

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388035”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My relationship with Professor Adam Lawson was a secret, a four-year violation of the university’s strict ban on student-faculty relationships. Just before graduation, I begged him to come home with me to meet my parents. His hand, which had been caressing my waist, froze. “Are you serious?” I nodded, my heart pounding. But a slow, dismissive smile spread across his face. “Your father asked me to look after you. If he found out I’ve been sleeping with his precious daughter, he’d probably kill me.” He leaned in, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “Stop messing around. Screwing is one thing, Ava. But for marriage? You’ll have to find someone else.” I froze. He kissed me then, a brief, meaningless gesture of affection before pressing a slip of paper into my hand. “That’s my nephew’s contact info,” he said. “He’s your age. Why don’t you give him a call?” 1 Adam’s voice was casual, laced with the lazy satisfaction of a man who’d just gotten what he wanted. On any other day, this was when he was most agreeable. He’d say yes to anything. But today, though his tone was light, the words held an undeniable finality. The piece of paper in my hand felt like it was burning a hole through my skin. I wanted to crumple it up, to throw it in the trash, to scream at him, After four years, was there ever a single moment of genuine feeling for me? But my mind went numb, flashing back to a scene from three nights ago. Adam had just been promoted. His friends took him out to a bar to celebrate, and by the time he called me, he was already drunk, his words slurring as he asked me to pick him up. When I found him, he was leaning against a brick wall outside, a cigarette dangling from two fingers, a lighter flickering in his other hand. As the flame caught, one of his friends asked, “Ava’s been with you for four years, man. Aren’t you going to make it official?” “Your final thesis defense is coming up,” another chimed in. “After that, you won’t be professor and student anymore.” I held my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was the day I had been waiting for, dreaming of for four long years—the day I could finally stand by his side in the open. The day I wouldn’t have to duck my head and avoid his gaze when we passed on campus, when I could call him something other than the formal, sterile title everyone else used: “Professor Lawson.” I was desperate to hear his answer. But in the next second, he took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled a plume of white smoke. A smirk played on his lips, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. “Are you serious? Her dad asked me to look after her, that’s it. What feelings? Make it official? Get real.” “Dude, he didn’t ask you to look after her in your bed!” his friend shot back, shocked. Adam just chuckled, a low, dismissive sound. “She came onto me.” “And I’m not a saint.” I couldn’t name the feeling that washed over me then. It was a sharp, twisting pain in my chest, and my eyes burned. On instinct, I turned and ran. I didn’t go back to his apartment or to my dorm. I bought a six-pack of beer and went to the beach, chugging it down, trying to drown the image of his smiling face from my mind. But it was no use. I ended up black-out drunk, and in the end, it was Adam who came to get me. He never asked what was wrong. He didn’t care. He just took me home, and his lips found mine in the darkness. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me into a familiar, dizzying climb. The pathetic thing was, I couldn’t resist him. It was only at the very end, when I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, that I bit down hard on his shoulder, drawing blood. I forced him to whisper the words I so desperately needed to hear. “I love you.” I used to secretly delight in the thought that Adam, a man who was wealthy, brilliant, and constantly surrounded by beautiful women, had chosen me. Now I knew the truth. He hadn’t chosen me. He had selected me. Pretty, naive, and clean. And the forbidden thrill of sleeping with a student—that was just an added bonus. “Not happy with the arrangement?” Adam’s voice pulled me back to the present. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for my response. He had already dressed, his dark hair now swept back from his forehead. He had the kind of eyes that made everyone feel like they were the center of his world, a smile so warm it could melt you. But if you looked closer, you’d see the truth: a cold, detached clarity that kept everyone at a distance. “Ava, don’t be difficult. Okay?” A long moment passed before I found my voice, a dry, scratchy thing. “Fine.” 2 After that night, Adam and I didn’t speak for a week. The withdrawal was agonizing. I poured every ounce of my energy into my graduation thesis, hoping the work would numb the pain. On the day of my presentation, Adam was one of the evaluating professors. When he saw me, his gaze was utterly blank, his expression unreadable. He looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. My hands tightened on the textbook I was holding, a wave of nausea rolling through me. I forced myself to walk past him, pretending not to care, and took a seat in the last row. This presentation was the final hurdle to graduation, and my classmates were a mess of nerves, wringing their hands. All except for one girl sitting directly behind Adam. She rested her chin on her hand, her eyes fixed on the back of his head, adoration practically radiating from her. Adam seemed to sense her stare. He turned, a small, weary smile on his face, and whispered something to her. I was too far away to hear, but I could read his lips. Focus. Stop messing around. His tone was indulgent, affectionate—the same tone he only ever used with me in bed. My eyes started to burn again. The third student finished their presentation. The girl, whose name I now knew was Claire, was next. She wore a simple white dress, her makeup subtle and confident as she walked to the podium. As she passed, I could have sworn her eyes flickered toward me, a flash of undisguised hostility in her gaze. I had no idea why. Then, her presentation appeared on the projector, and my world tilted on its axis. My roommate reacted first. “Ava, your topics are the same?” No. It was more than that. From the very first word she spoke, I knew. This wasn’t just the same topic. This was my thesis. The data, the citations, the arguments—I had spent months researching, verifying, and writing every single word. “Excuse me.” I shot to my feet. The professors in the front row turned, their faces etched with annoyance. On stage, Claire paused, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her face. “Yes? Do you have a problem? Don’t you know this is a formal defense?” one of the professors snapped. I bit my lip, my fists clenched. “Yes, I know. But I have a question.” “And what would that be?” Claire asked, her voice sweet as poison. Before I could answer, she continued, “You’re not going to say our topics are the same, are you? Or maybe… that I stole your paper? That I plagiarized you?” “Didn’t you?!” I shot back, my voice shaking with rage. “Even if the topics were similar, it’s impossible for the data, the citations, and the entire argument to be identical!” I walked to the front and handed my printed thesis and a USB drive to the professors. They took them, their expressions skeptical, and began to compare the two documents. As they read, their faces grew grim. “What is the meaning of this?” I shook my head. “I don’t know why her thesis is identical to mine, but I swear on my life, this is my original work. My roommate can vouch for me.” Claire just laughed. “Well, my roommate can vouch for me, too. And I have my drafts. Do you want to see them?” She pulled two stacks of handwritten notes from her bag. The writing was messy, but the notes were undeniably real. My head spun, and my eyes instinctively found Adam, a desperate flicker of hope igniting in my chest. He had been there when I chose my topic. He had seen my first draft. If he would just speak up for me, I could— But his voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and impatient. “If you can’t prove your case, then don’t waste everyone else’s time.” He looked directly at me, his eyes cold. “Furthermore, you are under suspicion of plagiarism. You will receive a failing grade.” The world went white. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing, my eyes instantly flooding with tears. “What did you say?” “I plagiarized? Adam, do you dare say that again?!” He frowned. The noisy classroom fell silent. My roommate, terrified I was about to cause a scene, rushed over and pulled me away, apologizing profusely to Adam. “Professor, I’m so sorry, she didn’t mean it. She’s pulled so many all-nighters for this thesis… This is just… hard for her to accept.” Adam sat motionless, his expression unreadable. He waited until I was gone before signaling for Claire to continue. 3 Back in the dorm, my roommate tried to console me. “That girl today, her name is Claire Sterling. I heard her father is on the university’s board of directors. She has connections, Ava. Even if she did steal your work, you can’t fight her head-on like that.” I wasn’t listening. I was tearing my room apart, searching for my own drafts. I found nothing. They had been stolen. My roommate suggested checking the security cameras, but warned me it was a long shot. I was heading downstairs to try anyway when a text from Adam lit up my phone. [I’ll give you an explanation for what happened today.] [Come to my faculty apartment.] I took a deep breath, clutched my phone, and ran. He had just showered. A towel was slung around his neck, his dark hair damp and falling across his forehead. I could still see the faint mark of my teeth on his shoulder. The moment the door closed behind me, I demanded, “Why?” “Do you have any proof that you didn’t plagiarize?” “How am I supposed to prove it? My drafts were stolen, and my roommate’s word isn’t enough. I thought you would help me. You saw how hard I worked on this. I even asked for your advice on the topic. And what did you say?!” My voice cracked. “With one word—plagiarism, fail—you destroyed months of my work. Now I might not even be able to graduate!” “Four years. I was with you for four years, Adam. Don’t you have a heart?!” The dam finally broke. Tears of betrayal and hurt streamed down my face, splashing onto the floor. Four years ago, my dad, a high-ranking officer, had been worried about me being alone in a new city. He’d asked Adam, a family friend’s son, to look after me. From the first day I met him, I was hopelessly smitten. He never rejected my adLawsons, always indulging my every move. I thought he liked me, too, so I worked tirelessly to be worthy of him. I made the dean’s list every year. I planned to apply to the same research institute as him after graduation. I had poured my soul into that goal. I had hoped my thesis presentation would be my crowning achievement. And what had he given me in return? He sighed, a weary sound, and reached out to wipe away my tears. I flinched away. “Crying at the first sign of trouble. You’re still such a child. Can’t handle the slightest setback. What have you even learned these past four years?” He looked away. “Let the thing with Claire go. It’s over.” “I’ll give you a chance to retake the exam. You can just—” I looked up, horrified, unable to believe this was the man I had known, the man I had loved for four years. “What did you say? You expect me to just accept the plagiarism charge?” “Is this your idea of an explanation?” He didn’t look at me. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on the table. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “At least this way you’ll be able to graduate. I know you want to check the security footage, but I might as well tell you.” “The cameras have been down for maintenance for the past few days. You won’t find anything.” “Oh, and there’s one more thing I forgot to tell you.” He paused, turning to look at me out of the corner of his eye. “Claire is my fiancée.” For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. 4 I don’t remember how I left his apartment that day. But I fell violently ill afterward, a feverish haze that lasted for nearly two weeks. My roommate learned not to mention the thesis around me. But I still heard Claire’s name whispered in the halls. She had been accepted into Adam’s prestigious research institute. Her thesis was praised for its “forward-thinking” approach, and doors opened for her everywhere. With her status as Adam Lawson’s fiancée, no one dared to say a negative word about her. The university’s strict ban on student-faculty relationships, it seemed, didn’t apply to Claire. By the third week, I finally dragged myself out of bed. I skipped the graduation ceremony, focusing instead on studying for my retake exam and applying to other research institutes. But the rejections came one after another. Every background check failed. The black mark of plagiarism still hung over my name. Sitting in my empty dorm room, I stared at another polite rejection email, a profound sense of helplessness washing over me for the first time. “Ava, don’t lose hope,” my roommate said, trying to comfort me. I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to close the browser, my inbox pinged. My hand, resting on the mouse, began to tremble. My heart leaped into my throat. I braced myself for another rejection, but then I read the words: Congratulations, Ava. We are delighted to welcome you to the team. My eyes began to sting. After hundreds of emails and countless interviews over the past few weeks, the tension that had been coiled in my stomach for so long finally snapped. The institute was in San Francisco. The HR manager added me on a messaging app, confirmed my start date, and we settled on the day after tomorrow. I read and reread the word “Congratulations.” I carefully asked about the background check, and they assured me everything was fine. Finally, I let myself cry. My roommate, hearing I was moving to the West Coast, insisted on a farewell dinner. I didn’t refuse. We both knew that after graduation, our paths would diverge. But I never expected to hear from Adam again. [Claire found out about us. To reassure her, you’re going to meet my nephew tomorrow at 3 PM.] It wasn’t a request. It was an order. I thought seeing his name would still stir something in me, some flicker of pain or longing. But I felt nothing. It was like staring at a stranger’s name. I didn’t reply. I just blocked his number. My flight to San Francisco was at 3 PM tomorrow. I hoped I would never have to see Adam Lawson again. … Adam frowned at his phone. The message remained unread. He hadn’t paid much attention to Ava’s life recently, but he knew she’d been busy. After her retake exam, she had been relentlessly sending out applications, going on interview after interview. The top institutes in Boston had all rejected her, citing the failed background check. It had become a running joke among some students. He hadn’t cared. But yesterday, he’d seen her eating in a restaurant. And a strange, heavy feeling had settled in his chest. She had lost so much weight. Her waist was so thin he could have circled it with one hand. She was listening quietly as her roommate talked, her frame so fragile, her face pale and drawn. She looked like she could collapse at any moment. That’s when he remembered. She had been sick for a while. On the day of her retake exam, her face had been as white as a sheet of paper. So, that night, he had pulled some strings and arranged for another position to open up at his institute. He planned to offer her a job as his assistant. But somehow, Claire had found out. She’d thrown a fit, convinced he was still hung up on Ava. Claire, despite being the same age as Ava, had a temper that exhausted him. Their engagement had been arranged by their families since they were children. He knew they would get married eventually, so he gave in. That’s why he’d sent Ava the text. He never imagined that Ava, who used to reply to his messages in seconds, would simply ignore him. An unfamiliar wave of irritation washed over him. Then, he saw a message in a group chat: [You guys hear?! The girl who got rejected everywhere just landed a job! At that top-tier institute in San Francisco!] 5 At two in the afternoon, my phone rang. Adam. I declined the call. He immediately called back from a different number. Again and again, until I finally snapped and answered. “What do you want?” I said, my voice sharp. The airport was bustling. I found a quiet corner after checking my luggage. The line was silent for a long time. Just as I was about to hang up, Adam finally spoke. “I hear you’re going to San Francisco.” I didn’t deny it. I knew he’d find out sooner or later. “You got such a great offer. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Why should I tell you? Who are you to me? My former professor? My ex-fuck buddy?” I heard his sharp intake of breath. “Don’t call me again,” I said, my voice cold. “This kind of pathetic chasing isn’t like you, Adam.” I hung up and blocked the new number. Before, when I loved him, I would have given him anything. Call me a fool, call me lovesick, I didn’t care. I believed in giving everything to the person I loved, without expecting anything in return. I didn’t regret our four years together. Not even now. But I had made the choice to walk away. No matter how much I had loved him, it was in the past. I could look back, but I would never, ever go back. When I landed in San Francisco, a colleague from the institute was there to pick me up. He looked vaguely familiar. There was a faint resemblance to Adam in the set of his eyes, but his presence was calmer, more grounded. He lacked Adam’s careless, playboy charm. “Hi, I’m Leo Lawson,” he said, introducing himself. My head snapped up. The name clicked into place, the same name from the crumpled piece of paper Adam had given me. And then another thought struck me. He was supposed to be in Boston, waiting for me on a blind date he knew nothing about. What was he doing in San Francisco? “Is something wrong?” Leo asked, noticing my silence. He waved a hand in front of my face. “Uh…” I cleared my throat, embarrassed. “No, nothing.” Leo studied me. “Are you sure? Are you feeling airsick?” “I’m fine,” I repeated, forcing a smile. If he didn’t recognize me, then he must have been just as opposed to Adam’s meddling as I was. Since he wasn’t bringing it up, neither would I. Leo and Adam were complete opposites. Leo was an old soul in a young man’s body. Though he was only twenty-three, he carried himself with the quiet gravity of someone much older. He put my luggage in the trunk and held the car door open for me, his hand carefully placed on the frame to make sure I didn’t hit my head. As he drove, he was the picture of perfect form—eyes on the road, hands at ten and two, posture ramrod straight. He didn’t play music or the radio, and he didn’t make small talk. The silence was absolute. The old me would have found it suffocating. But now, it was a relief. I didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to force a conversation. I was about to close my eyes when Leo’s phone buzzed. He frowned, clearly annoyed by the interruption. He glanced at me, saw my eyes were open again, and apologized. “Sorry to disturb you.” Then, he declined the call and blocked the number. All in one smooth, efficient motion. I said nothing. The caller had been Adam.

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When I found out about Kelly’s affair, we were both surprisingly calm. She shielded the young man behind her, her voice a flat monotone. “Don’t blame him. It was all me. I couldn’t control myself. He’s innocent.” I nodded, feigning understanding. That night, Kelly came home and handed me a set of divorce papers. “I’ve made concessions financially. Take a look. If there are no issues, just sign.” I tossed the papers into the trash. “Don’t worry,” I said, my tone magnanimous. “I’m not going to make a scene and demand a divorce over something so trivial.” It was just an affair. In this age of fast-food romance, who hasn’t faced a little temptation? I hadn’t exactly been a saint myself. How could I blame her? 1 Kelly froze, a cigarette halfway to her lips. She looked up, her eyes narrowed. I knew what she was thinking. I used to be the jealous type, the kind who couldn’t tolerate a single grain of sand in his eye. Kelly had always been a magnet for men. Even in the early, passionate days of our relationship, when she was trying her best to be faithful, there were always shameless guys who threw themselves at her. I used to pick fights with her about it constantly. But over the years, maybe the passion had faded. Or maybe I was just getting older, too tired to argue. Our marriage had become a stagnant pond, utterly still. When life gets that dull, a little excitement is inevitable. “Kelly, we’ve known each other for twenty years. We’ve been married for almost ten. The company is thriving, and our parents get along.” “Do you have any idea what a divorce would mean for us?” It would mean dividing our assets, and the company’s stock would take a hit. It would mean upheaval for both our families. Our parents were old, with pre-existing health conditions. The shock could be too much for them. Kelly was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, “I’m just trying to respect you.” “And your idea of respecting me is to find a lover and cheat on me?” She frowned. “He’s not a lover! I told you, I’m the shameless one. He knew I was married. He tried to reject me.” “I get it. You don’t have to explain. Matters of the heart are hard to control with logic.” I decided to lay all my cards on the table. “You’re just afraid I’ll use my position as your husband to hurt him, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I might not have many virtues, but I am generous.” She studied me, her eyes searching for a crack in my facade. “You really don’t mind?” “I wouldn’t say I don’t mind at all. But you two are in love.” I sighed dramatically. “True love is a rare thing these days. I have nothing but respect and well wishes for it.” 2 My performance didn’t completely convince her, but she knew the facts I’d laid out were undeniable. So, she agreed to reconsider the divorce. For the next few days, she came home from work on time. When her phone rang, she would glance at me and decline the call. “Was that him?” I asked, my voice dripping with magnanimity. “You should answer. Don’t make him sad. You can’t give him a proper title; the least you can do is not make him suffer in other ways.” She gritted her teeth, stood up, and disappeared into her study, closing the door firmly behind her. The closed door was like her heart—it hadn’t been open to me for a long, long time. I understood her, really. People are tolerant of those they love deeply, and of those they don’t love at all. It’s the ones they used to love, the ones they’ve fallen out of love with, that they treat with the most cruelty. She must despise me now. The very act of breathing the same air as me was probably torture for her. And yet, she forced herself to come home every night, to play this game with me, all because she was afraid of what I might do to her lover. Poor thing. That night, as usual, I slept alone. I couldn’t remember the last time Kelly and I had been intimate. In the beginning, I used to try to seduce her, but she always claimed she was too tired. But a woman’s libido doesn’t just die. I knew she wasn’t tired. She was just… satisfied by someone else. And I was a man with needs. So, I had found a clean, uncomplicated woman to fill the void. Before bed, a message popped up on my phone. [When are you getting a divorce?] [I told you, I don’t do married men! If you don’t divorce her, we’re done!] I thought of her perfect breasts and long legs and licked my lips with a pang of regret. A divorce was out of the question. But she sounded so resolute. I couldn’t force her. So, with a sigh, I deleted her contact. Oh well. Plenty of other fish in the sea. Bye-bye, baby. The next one will be even better. 3 Monday was the quarterly shareholders’ meeting. I hadn’t been to the office regularly since I’d gotten sick from overworking a couple of years ago. I’d been recuperating at home, living comfortably off the dividends. But I always made a point to attend the shareholders’ meetings. There were a few new faces since my last visit. My eyes immediately landed on a young man in the corner, tasked with taking the minutes. When he saw me, his eyes darted around nervously before he lowered his head, trying to make himself invisible. I felt no animosity toward him, just a flicker of pity. He was the first man Kelly had ever brought before me. But he wasn’t the first man she had cheated on me with. Kelly was a professional. She kept her work life and her private life separate. She never brought her other lovers to the company. The way she defended him, the protective instinct in her voice… this time, it seemed, it really was true love. At ten o’clock sharp, Kelly entered the conference room but didn’t start the meeting. A few moments later, the door opened again, and a woman in a charcoal gray suit strode in. “Sorry, I’m late,” she said, her tone devoid of any actual apology. She took a seat next to Kelly. She seemed to feel my gaze on her and met my eyes with a cool, indifferent stare before looking away. I let out a soft “tsk.” That woman had a poker face that could rival a statue’s. Especially in bed. The more turned on she got, the colder her expression became. But I guess I had a bit of a masochistic streak. The colder she was, the more excited I got. “Mr. Collins, who is that?” the shareholder next to me whispered. “That’s Amelia Vance, our angel investor,” I explained quietly. “The company wouldn’t exist without her initial investment.” “But I’ve never seen her at a meeting before.” “She has a lot of assets. We send her an invitation every quarter, but she’s always declined.” “So why is she here today?” I smiled and shook my head. “I have no idea. Maybe she was bored.” 4 The meeting ended around noon. I decided to stay and have lunch with Kelly. As I was washing my hands in the restroom, Kelly’s lover walked in. He saw me and instinctively turned to flee. But after a moment’s hesitation, he shuffled over, his head bowed, and mumbled, “Mr. Collins.” I took my time washing my hands, drying them meticulously under the hand dryer. He stood there, waiting for a response that never came, and his shoulders started to shake. Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked so pathetic. “Mr. Collins, I really didn’t mean to destroy your marriage. I… I didn’t know she was married at first…” he stammered, his voice choked with sobs. “I tried to leave her, but… but…” “But you love her too much,” I finished for him, a sympathetic tone in my voice. I took out a handkerchief, gently lifted his chin, and dabbed at his tears. “The thought of leaving her was like a knife in your heart.” “So, you continued the affair. And then she brought you into the company, so you could be with her every day. Am I right?” I had stolen all his lines. He just stared at me, forgetting to cry. “Is there something you want to say to me?” I asked. The company was huge. If he had really wanted to avoid me, it would have been easy. His intentions were so transparent. He was so weak, so fragile, that I almost found him endearing. “Mr. Collins, you’re so successful, so handsome, so rich. So… so… could you please… divorce her…?” he finally whispered, knowing he had no right to ask. The tears started again. “I have no other choice. I… I love her so much…” “Call me shameless, call me despicable, I don’t care! I’ll do anything for our happiness!” I smiled and nodded. “I understand. You can stop crying now.” “Thank you for your generosity,” he said, and started to kneel. But he stopped when he realized I wasn’t going to stop him, his knees hovering awkwardly in mid-air. I glanced at my watch. No wonder I was hungry. “Kelly and I will discuss the divorce,” I said, patting his shoulder as I walked past him. Kelly’s office was spacious. When I entered, she was chatting with Amelia. Seeing me, Kelly smiled. “Perfect timing. Amelia, it’s been a while since you’ve seen Ethan, right? Why don’t we all have lunch together?” It hadn’t been that long. We’d just slept together last week. Amelia glanced at me and gave a slight nod. “It has been a while. I was actually going to message you both last night to arrange lunch today, but it seems Ethan deleted me?” “That’s impossible,” Kelly said, grabbing my phone and scrolling through my contacts. Her smile faltered when she couldn’t find Amelia’s name. “He must have deleted you by accident,” she explained quickly. “Ethan never deletes people.” “It’s fine. We can just add each other again.” Amelia held out her phone with a QR code, watching as Kelly scanned it and sent a friend request. I rolled my eyes. Who was it that swore last night we should never contact each other again? 5 Just as we were about to leave, Kelly’s lover knocked on the door, looking pale and unwell. He wanted to take the rest of the day off. Technically, he should have gone to his direct supervisor. But he was the apple of Kelly’s eye. So, naturally, Kelly stayed behind to tend to him, and I ended up going to lunch with Amelia alone. As we were leaving, Kelly reminded me to get on Amelia’s good side, especially after the “accidental” deletion. They had been best friends in college. Amelia’s generous investment was the reason Kelly’s company had even gotten off the ground. But people change, and their positions in life were different now. Things were more complicated. To show the sincerity of my apology, the moment we got in the car, I let Amelia tie my hands with her silk tie. Her expression was cold as she gripped my wrists, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh. “So ruthless,” she hissed, her voice like ice. “Deleting me just like that. You come and go as you please. What am I to you? A dog?” The car windows were tinted, but we were still in the company parking lot. The familiar surroundings sent a thrill of forbidden excitement through me. “You love her that much? You know she’s been cheating on you for years, but you still won’t divorce her?” She climbed onto my lap, her fingers digging into my jaw, forcing me to look out the window. Kelly was gently guiding her lover out of the elevator, her face etched with concern. They were probably on their way to the hospital. “Tell me,” Amelia whispered, her breath hot against my ear, “what do you think would happen if I rolled down the window right now and said hello?” 6 I was gasping for air. Amelia was not a gentle lover. Especially in bed. I knew that the more I begged for mercy, the more frenzied she would become. So, instead, I reached over and pressed the button to lower the window, leaning out to wave at Kelly. Kelly, sensing something, turned and looked our way. But the window was already closed again. “What’s wrong?” her lover asked, snuggling closer to her. He followed her gaze. Kelly shook her head, and they got into their car. What a shame. Amelia was driving her new Rolls-Royce today. Kelly had never seen it before. Otherwise, she might have recognized the car and suspected something. I remembered the pictures Amelia had sent me of the car’s interior. She had said it was spacious. Perfect for… this. And she was right. When it was over, I was curled up in the back seat, exhausted. Amelia’s blouse was unbuttoned, her body still flushed with the afterglow of sex. A smug, satisfied look was on her face. “No matter how hard you fight it, this marriage won’t last much longer,” she said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “You know how serious Kelly is about him this time.” Of course, I knew. Because the last man Kelly had loved this deeply was me. “It doesn’t matter. The worst she can do is sue for divorce.” I let out a low chuckle. “But I have all the time in the world. I can wait her out.” “Ethan, I don’t understand you,” Amelia said, her brow furrowed. “What’s the point of holding onto a loveless marriage with a woman who doesn’t want you?” “There is no point. But does everything in life have to have a point?” “Besides, even if I divorce her, I’m not going to marry you. So, what’s the point of you pushing for this divorce?” Her lips tightened, her eyes darkening. She was angry. I knew it. I sighed. “You enjoy the thrill of an affair, but you also want the legitimacy of a title.” “You can’t have it all, Amelia.” 7 That night, Kelly didn’t come home. I expected as much. So, under the guise of comforting me, Amelia let herself into my house. And then, at the peak of my ecstasy, as my body trembled uncontrollably, she picked up her phone and called Kelly. “Amelia? What’s wrong?” It was the middle of the night. Kelly’s voice was hoarse, laced with sleep. “I heard from Ethan that you want a divorce,” Amelia said, her voice impossibly calm, betraying nothing of the high-intensity workout she was currently engaged in. I bit my lip, hard, but a small, choked sob escaped. Kelly heard it. “Are you two together right now?” “Yes.” Amelia looked down at me, her fingers gently brushing through my sweat-drenched hair, her gaze lingering on my flushed face. “He’s crying.” There was a pause on the other end of the line. “It’s my fault,” Kelly finally said. “So, you’re really going through with the divorce?” “I have no choice.” I heard the flick of a lighter. Kelly’s voice was heavy with sorrow. “I’ve already hurt Ethan. I can’t hurt another man.” “He loves me so much. I have to be responsible for him.” “But Ethan doesn’t want a divorce. He still loves you,” Amelia said, and I could feel the jealousy in her words, a sharp, bitter edge that she took out on my body. “I’ll find a time to talk to him properly.” After she hung up, Amelia’s questions were relentless. “Did you hear that? She doesn’t love you anymore!” “Divorce her!” “No…” “I’m asking you one last time. Are you going to divorce her?” I gripped the bedsheets, my voice a strained whisper. “No!” Why should I? Why should I make it easy for them? Why should I give up my stable, comfortable life? Ethan Collins will be a widower, but he will never be a divorcee.

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My brother, Leo, is devastatingly handsome and an incorrigible flirt—a walking trail of broken hearts. So when I caught a glimpse of him at the gala, engaged in a subtle, flirty exchange with the fiancée of Julian Sterling, the head of the entire Sterling dynasty, my world went dark. Stunned and furious, I frantically stomped on my brother’s foot under the table, a desperate, silent plea for him to stop. But then Jason, who had been studying his cards with his gaze lowered, slowly lifted his eyes to meet mine. His look was deep, unnervingly direct. Oh God. I stomped on the wrong man. 1 It was the engagement party for the Sterling family’s eldest daughter. As close family friends for generations, my brother Leo insisted on dragging me along to offer our congratulations. On the way there, he gave me the usual lecture, a litany of warnings to steer clear of certain trust-fund types. I nodded obediently through it all. “When it comes to love, Elara, remember this: all men are trash. Every single one.” I shot a silent, sidelong glance at my brother, with his ridiculously charming smile and eyes that promised nothing but trouble. “You do realize you’re a man too, right?” I reminded him. Leo just laughed. “Exactly. And I’m the worst of them all.” I was speechless, rolling my eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. He pinched my cheek, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Elara, are you cursing me out in your head again?” “No!” I yelped, a little too quickly. Leo is five years older than me. Handsome, wild, with a romantic life that could fill a novel. But with me, he was a warden. Before I left for college, his rules were absolute: no dating, no late nights, and every outing had to be reported and approved. He was a tyrant. When we were kids, he’d parade me around in front of his friends. “Look! Isn’t my sister the prettiest, cutest thing you’ve ever seen? Bet you wish you had one.” Now that I’m older, he barely lets his friends near me and scrutinizes every interaction I have with the opposite sex. His justification? “My sister is beautiful, and the world is full of scumbags. I have to keep her safe. I won’t let anyone fool her.” Tonight’s gala was supposed to be my official entry into this world now that I’d graduated—a chance to network, to see and be seen. The Sterlings were the pinnacle of high society, after all. The guest list was a who’s who of power and wealth. I just never imagined that the one to cause the biggest scene would be my own brother, the very person who’d lectured me on propriety all evening. He was a player, a Casanova. But I never thought he’d be reckless enough to target the fiancée of Jason Sterling himself. The engagement party was held at a magnificent private estate, a sprawling garden that felt like something out of a fairy tale. After the formal ceremonies, Leo and Jason retreated to a quiet conservatory overlooking the grounds, joining a high-stakes poker game and talking business. I had wandered off, exploring the rose gardens, and was making my way back along a stone veranda. I glanced across a small koi pond towards the conservatory, and what I saw made my blood run cold. Even from a distance, my eyes locked onto the scene. Under the table, my brother’s foot was shamelessly, intimately toying with the woman beside him. I could see the amethyst silk of her dress ripple with the movement. And that woman was Stella Dalton. Jason Sterling’s fiancée. Jason was a man with a fearsome reputation. He had the face of a saint and the heart of a shark. He was impossibly handsome, exuding a gentle, cultured charisma in every interaction. But in the boardroom, his tactics were ruthless, merciless. He wouldn’t have clawed his way to the top of the Sterling family, surpassing six older siblings, if he were anything less. Had my brother lost his mind? His audacity was terrifying. My heart pounding, I hurried over to the conservatory. The men at the table barely glanced up as I entered, their focus locked on their cards. I squeezed myself into the small space beside my brother, positioning myself right between him and Stella. I pretended to watch the game, but my eyes were burning holes into the side of Leo’s head, wishing I could knock him unconscious and drag him out of there. “Care to play?” Jason’s voice, cool and smooth, cut through the tension. Startled, I flinched, my guilt over my brother’s actions making my heart leap into my throat. I looked up at him—at that face, with its flawlessly sculpted features and eyes that seemed to hold ancient secrets. The sheer force of his beauty left me flustered. I shook my head, managing a shy smile. “I’m not very good.” Then, trying to be playful, I added, “Besides, I’m broke. I haven’t even gotten my first paycheck yet.” A faint smile touched Jason’s lips. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “Your winnings are your own. Your losses are on me.” Unsure how to respond, I looked to my brother for help. A smug, unreadable smirk played on Leo’s lips as he patted my arm. “What are you waiting for? Thank your Uncle Jason.” Jason was the youngest of his generation, the Sterling patriarch’s last son. Though he was only seven years older than me, our parents’ generation considered him a peer. Technically, I was supposed to address him with a level of formal respect. “Thank you… Jason,” I mumbled, feeling my brother was deliberately trying to make this awkward. On the rare occasions I’d met Jason before, I always called him Mr. Sterling. Leo called him by his first name, yet he wanted me to call him ‘uncle’? Jason gave a slight nod, his eyes warm. Then, a ghost of a smile touched his lips as he looked from me to my brother. “If she’s calling me Jason, perhaps you should stick to Mr. Sterling, Leo. After all, you’ll be calling Stella ‘Mrs. Sterling’ soon enough.” Leo’s eyes narrowed, the smile on his face turning frigid. Stella, who had been sitting quietly beside him, kept her eyes downcast, a silent statue. Something was deeply wrong here. A love triangle? Some dark, hidden secret? My curiosity was a frantic, buzzing thing I couldn’t contain. Sensing the sudden frost in the air, I jumped in, my voice bright and eager. “Let me shuffle!” My attempt was clumsy, the cards fumbling through my fingers. It was obvious I barely ever touched a deck. Leo scoffed. “You don’t even know how. Why offer?” Stella finally looked up, offering me a gentle smile. “I can do it.” Jason just watched, his expression unreadable as he took a slow sip of tea. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The oppressive atmosphere in the room seemed to lift, just a little. As it turned out, my luck was incredible. I won three hands in a row. But I couldn’t enjoy it. My brother was at it again. I’d been watching them like a hawk, and I saw the blush on Stella’s cheeks deepen. That was it. Furious, I kicked my leg out under the table and stomped on Leo’s foot. He didn’t even flinch. I stomped again, harder this time, then a third time, trying to signal that I knew exactly what he was doing and he needed to stop. Now. Still, he ignored me completely. I pressed my shoe down on his, grinding my heel in, baffled by his lack of reaction. It was then, in my confusion, that my eyes met Jason’s. His brow was furrowed slightly, his gaze resting on me, quiet and intense. A horrifying realization dawned. I froze, staring at him. I hadn’t just stomped on the wrong person. I had stomped on Jason Sterling. Repeatedly. Under the table, in front of everyone. An act that could only be interpreted as a brazen, intimate adHavens. Leo finally noticed my stunned silence. He flicked my forehead. “What are you staring at Jason for?” he asked, his tone sharp. Jason’s expression smoothed out, a slow, amused smile gracing his lips. “Yes, why are you staring at me, Elara?” he purred. “Want one of my cards?” My mind was a complete blank. Shock made me blurt out the first thing that came to it. “You’re just… stunning.” The moment the words left my mouth, reality crashed back in. My face exploded in heat. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Jason’s gaze remained calm, and he simply gave a small, dismissive smile. He’d probably heard it a million times. My brother snorted. “What, more stunning than me?” Flustered, I just stammered, “You’re both stunning, everyone’s stunning…” The game ended soon after. Leo and Jason started talking business, their tones deceptively casual. After a few minutes, Stella excused herself to go to the restroom. A moment later, Leo got up and left too. Leaving me alone with Jason Sterling. I immediately leaned forward, my voice a mortified whisper. “Mr. Sterling… Jason… I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” My words tumbled out in a rush. “I was trying to mess with my brother, I thought that was his foot.” There wasn’t a hint of annoyance on his face. Seeing my panic, he even teased me. “And here I was, thinking my shoes had personally offended you.” My face burned even hotter. He had accepted my apology and wasn’t pressing the issue. He changed the subject, his voice casual. “You’ll be starting your internship at Sterling Corp soon, won’t you? Does your brother know?” Leo wanted me to work at our family’s company, but I’d refused. I lied and told him I wanted to enjoy my last summer before starting a real job. In reality, I’d secretly applied to Sterling Corp and gotten in. But I was just an intern. How would the CEO of a global conglomerate even know who was being hired for a bottom-rung position? Yet, here he was, mentioning it. He knew. Panic seized me. Did he think I was some kind of corporate spy? I was wrestling with how to deny it without sounding even more suspicious when he seemed to read my mind. “It was just a question,” he said, his voice soothing. “You earned that offer on your own merit. Come in, work hard, and don’t worry about it.” Relief washed over me, and my eyes lit up. I beamed at him, my gratitude shining through. Jason paused, his cool, moon-like eyes half-lidding for a fraction of a second, hiding an emotion I couldn’t decipher. It was as dark and complex as storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Leo and Stella were still gone. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Using the restroom as my excuse, I slipped out to find them, muttering curses at my brother under my breath. The first thing I was going to do when I got home was call our older sister, Eleanor. We had three siblings. Eleanor, the eldest, was the business prodigy, the one who had inherited our family’s company. Leo was just her second-in-command. He’d spent his entire childhood on the receiving end of her discipline. He was terrified of her. I passed through a rock grotto, the mist from a small, man-made waterfall raising goosebumps on my arms. A sudden chill, like a silken thread, wrapped around me. I quickened my pace, only to stop dead a few yards later. There, in a shadowy alcove, were Leo and Stella, locked in a tense struggle. Before I could process it, Leo pushed her against the stone wall and crushed his mouth to hers. After a brief, token resistance, Stella melted into his embrace. Oh, Leo. My dear, idiotic brother. Were you trying to single-handedly destroy our family’s company? Making a move on Jason Sterling’s fiancée, on Sterling property… My vision swam. Seeing my own brother in such a sordid scene made my skin crawl. I couldn’t watch. I started to turn away, but a cold presence drifted into my senses, followed by a voice, right beside my ear. “Enjoying the show?” The voice was flat, devoid of emotion, and colder than the night air. The garden was dark, illuminated only by the faint, swaying red light of distant lanterns. Every hair on my body stood on end. A scream built in my throat, but it was smothered by a cold, firm hand clamped over my mouth. An arm snaked around my waist, trapping me against a hard chest. Terrified, I twisted my head and saw him. Jason. His face was a mask of indifference as he stared at the scene unfolding in the shadows. In the dim light, his perfect profile took on a terrifying, beautiful edge. I thought my heart was going to beat its way out of my chest. My mind reeled. Slowly, carefully, I brought my hand up to his, the one covering my mouth. I turned my body to face him, my eyes wide with fear. He looked down at me, his gaze dark and unreadable. His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Your brother is playing with my fiancée… So tell me, how would you feel if I played with his little sister?” 2 My brain buzzed and then went completely silent. It felt like it had short-circuited. What did he mean by that? Was he being literal, or was there some twisted, veiled threat I was failing to grasp? I was frozen solid, forgetting even how to breathe. The warm body pressed against my back, the clean, crisp scent of sandalwood that was distinctly Jason’s—it all enveloped me. But it didn’t feel comforting. It felt like being coiled in the grasp of a cold, venomous snake. “Jason… p-please don’t joke like that,” I stammered, my voice trembling uncontrollably. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, a sound that sent a paralyzing chill straight up my spine. “Do I look like I’m joking?” He wasn’t even looking at Leo and Stella anymore. His gaze was fixed entirely on me, intense and possessive. “Your brother has humiliated me. I have to get my dignity back, don’t you think?” “Elara,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Be my fi-an-cée.” He drew out the word, each syllable a nail hammering the terrifying proposition into my mind. Tears welled in my eyes. How did I get dragged into this mess? My brother’s romantic conquests had nothing to do with me. Why was I the one paying the price? “N-No… you can’t… my brother, he…” “Your brother,” Jason interrupted smoothly, his tone flat but carrying an undeniable weight of command, “is about to find himself in a world of trouble. The Havens family has money, it’s true. But compared to the Sterlings, it’s nothing.” “He crossed me. I could make him, and your entire family, pay for it. Or…” He paused, and the pad of his thumb began to gently stroke my cheek, a deceptively comforting gesture, like soothing a cornered animal. “Or, you could be a good girl and do as I say. Become my fiancée. Not only will I forgive your brother, but I’ll even ensure Stella gets what she wants—a clean break from our engagement, freeing her up to run off with the man she truly desires.” “So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?” I was stunned into silence. His offer sounded… terrifyingly tempting. He wouldn’t just let my brother off the hook, he’d actually help them get together? It seemed too good to be true. I tilted my head back, my gaze meeting his deep, bottomless eyes. There wasn’t a trace of humor in them, only the cold, dark glint of calculation. I had no doubt that if I refused, every terrible consequence he’d laid out would become my reality. Leo was an idiot, but he was my brother. I couldn’t stand by and watch him burn our family to the ground. “I… I’ll do it,” I whispered, closing my eyes. My voice was so faint it was barely a sound. “Good girl.” Jason smiled, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, and released me. The moment he let go, my legs gave out, and I nearly collapsed onto the stone path. He caught me in a flash, his hand steadying my arm. “So scared of me?” he murmured, an eyebrow raised in amusement. I wanted to cry. Of course I was scared. You’re Jason Sterling, the man they call a gentleman predator! “So… what do I have to do?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Act,” Jason said simply. “From this moment on, I am pursuing you. Soon, you will be my girlfriend. And after that, my fiancée.” “In public, you must act completely and utterly smitten with me.” I stared at him, dumbfounded. Smitten? With his terrifying, ice-cold poker face? The acting challenge of a lifetime. As if reading my thoughts, he added coolly, “And if you’re a bad actress, we’ll just have to make it real.” A shiver went down my spine. I nodded frantically. “I understand! I’ll be the best actress you’ve ever seen. Oscar-worthy, I swear!” Across the garden, the sordid kiss finally ended. 3 Leo and Stella exchanged a few words before parting ways. As my brother turned, he saw me standing with Jason in the shadows. His expression froze, a flicker of panic in his eyes. Jason, however, acted as if nothing was wrong. He casually draped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close in a gesture of effortless intimacy. “Finished your chat?” he called out to my brother, his voice deceptively light. Leo’s eyes darted between the two of us, finally settling on the hand resting on my shoulder. His brow furrowed into a deep, angry line. “Jason, what the hell do you think you’re doing with my sister?” “Exactly what it looks like,” Jason replied with a lazy smile. “I find your sister… charming. I’m thinking of pursuing her.” The color drained from Leo’s face. “No way,” he snapped, his rejection instantaneous. “She’s too young!” “Oh?” Jason’s eyebrow arched. “Younger than Stella?” That one sentence shut my brother down completely. His face cycled through shades of red and white, a spectacular display of impotent fury. I huddled against Jason’s side, barely daring to breathe. When titans clashed, it was the mortals who got crushed. “Elara, get over here,” Leo ordered, his voice tight with restrained anger. I looked up at Jason, my eyes pleading for help. He patted my back reassuringly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Then, he turned his cool gaze back to my brother. “She doesn’t want to go with you right now. After all, compared to a brother who publicly humiliates his future brother-in-law, I seem like the more trustworthy option, don’t you think?” “Jason!” Leo seethed, a vein pulsing in his forehead. I genuinely feared he was about to throw a punch. If he did, the Havens family wouldn’t just pay a price; we’d be wiped off the map. I quickly tugged on Jason’s sleeve and forced a smile at my brother that felt more like a grimace. “Leo, it’s… Jason and I… we’re…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, my mind blanking on a plausible lie. Jason, however, had no such problem. “We’re perfect for each other,” he finished smoothly. I could have died. How could he say that with a straight face? My brother obviously didn’t buy it. He stared at me, his eyes boring into mine. “Elara, tell me the truth. Is he forcing you to do this?” Could I say yes? If I did, our family was done for. I could only shake my head, tears welling in my eyes as I choked out the lie. “No, Leo. It’s my choice. I think Jason is… wonderful.” As I said it, I could feel my toes curling in my shoes from the sheer force of the lie. Leo looked at me with the heartbroken expression of a man whose beloved sister had completely lost her mind. “What do you know about him? Stay away from him! He’s not a good person!” You’re not exactly a saint yourself, I thought. It was the pot calling the kettle black. The standoff finally ended when one of Leo’s friends intervened, pulling him away. Jason, meanwhile, led me from the estate. As I sat in the silent, plush interior of Jason’s car, my head was still spinning. In the span of a single evening, I had gone from an ordinary recent graduate to the “scandalous new girlfriend” of a corporate tycoon. Life, it turned out, was full of terrifying surprises. The silence in the car was heavy. I stole a glance at Jason beside me. He was leaning back against the leather seat, his eyes closed. In profile, he was as perfect and unyielding as a marble statue. Without the mask of gentle charisma, a cold, unapproachable aura radiated from him. I shrank into my seat, trying to make myself as small as possible. “My driver will pick you up tomorrow morning at eight,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. “Huh? Pick me up… for what?” “To go to my house.” My heart skipped a beat. “W-what for?” He opened his eyes and turned to look at me, a playful glint in their depths. “To meet the family. And to get you acquainted with your duties as a fiancée.” My face flushed instantly. “So soon?” “What did you expect? For me to wait until your brother recovers and puts you under house arrest?” Jason said coolly. “For this to work, it has to be believable. And the first step is convincing everyone in your life that it’s real.” “Including your formidable older sister.” At the mention of Eleanor, my stomach dropped. I was done for. Leo was scared of our sister, but frankly, so was I. Eleanor was the acting CEO of Havens Industries, a ruthless workaholic who didn’t suffer fools. 4 If she found out I was tangled up with Jason Sterling, she would skin me alive. “Um… Jason, about my sister… can we maybe take it slow?” I ventured, my voice small. “No,” he replied without a shred of pity. “You’re coming with me tomorrow.” “That’s an order.” My shoulders slumped in defeat. Fine. When you’re caught between a rock and a hard place, you do what the rock says. This was all my brother’s fault. The next morning, I was in the middle of a nightmare where I was tearfully confessing my sins to Eleanor when my phone rang, jolting me awake. It was Jason’s driver, informing me he was already waiting downstairs. I scrambled out of bed, rushing through my morning routine. After tearing my closet apart, I settled on a simple, innocent-looking white dress. When I got downstairs, my parents were having breakfast. My mom paused, taking in my outfit. “Elara, you look so lovely today. Are you going out?” I nodded, my guilt churning. “Yeah, I’m meeting a friend.” “Which friend? A boy or a girl?” my dad asked, his protective instincts immediately on high alert. “A girl! Definitely a girl!” I insisted. Just then, the doorbell rang. My mom went to answer it, revealing a man in a sharp suit standing on our doorstep. It was Jason’s driver. He gave my parents a polite, formal bow. “Good morning. Is this the Havens residence? I’m Mr. Sterling’s driver. I’ve been sent to pick up Miss Elara.” My parents froze. “Mr. Sterling? Which Mr. Sterling?” my dad asked, his voice cautious. “Mr. Jason Sterling.” The air in the room instantly evaporated. My parents stared at each other, their expressions even more horrified than my brother’s had been the night before. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. Jason was ruthless! He’d brought the battle directly to my front door. My dad recovered first, his face darkening. “My daughter isn’t going anywhere today.” The driver’s polite smile never wavered. “Mr. Havens, I’m only following Mr. Sterling’s instructions. He said that if you were to refuse, he would be happy to come over and have a chat with you and Mrs. Havens personally.” He paused for effect. “And perhaps discuss some of Leo’s… recent activities.” My dad’s face went rigid. He knew all about Leo’s reckless behavior. Starting a war with Jason Sterling would be suicide for our family. In the end, choking back his anger, my dad could only watch as the driver “escorted” me to the car. As I left, I saw my mom standing in the doorway, her face etched with worry. My heart ached. Jason, you absolute monster. The Sterling family estate was even grander and more imposing than I had imagined. It was a true heritage mansion, surrounded by acres of meticulously landscaped gardens, exuding an aura of old-world power. I followed the butler down a long, echoing hall, my stomach in knots. In the main drawing room, the patriarch of the family, Mr. Sterling Sr., was seated in a high-backed armchair, sipping tea. Several other stern-looking, middle-aged men were seated around him. Jason was sitting just to his father’s right. When I walked in, he beckoned me over with a subtle smile playing on his lips. To me, it looked like the smile of the devil himself. “Grandfather, uncles, this is Elara Havens,” Jason announced, his tone so natural it was as if we were actually dating. “The young woman I’m courting.” Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to me. My palms began to sweat. I forced what I hoped was a sweet and harmless smile onto my face. “Good morning, Mr. Sterling. Good morning, everyone.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388032”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our seventh anniversary, my boyfriend Eric was late. While waiting, I saw actress Mona Faye’s livestream. After starring with Eric in a hit drama, their on-screen romance had fans obsessed, calling them perfect together. I, his real-life girlfriend, was mocked as “Hollywood’s Most Underwhelming Girlfriend.” Fans were betting on when he’d dump me for Mona. In the stream, a fan asked if they’d really fallen for each other. Mona smiled shyly, holding up her phone. “Ask a certain someone.” I scoffed. Eric always cut contact while filming—my call minutes earlier went to voicemail. But when Mona called, he answered instantly. Her voice sweet, she asked, “Eric, have you fallen for me for real?” I heard his low chuckle through her phone. “I’m working, Mona. Stop messing around.” Seven years—I’d spent my youth helping him rise from nothing. Yet to him, I mattered less than a co-star. Right then, I knew it was over. Days later, Eric came home—no hug, no kiss, no apology for missing our anniversary. He just scowled, angry about my call. “Molly, I’ve told you—when I’m working, I immerse in my role. No outside distractions.” He looked down coldly. “As an actor’s girlfriend, you need to understand. Support my process, don’t add chaos. Get it?” 1 I sighed, sinking wearily onto the sofa. Honestly, I couldn’t remember a single time I had ever caused him any real trouble. Except for once. We hadn’t seen each other in over three months, and I missed him desperately. I checked his schedule beforehand, making sure it was his day off before driving hours to visit the set. I even stood in line for three hours to buy his favorite pastries. But when I arrived, a sudden downpour had forced the crew to reschedule. They were shooting a major rain scene that day. Because of my unexpected arrival, Eric couldn’t get into character for a kiss scene. It took take after take. He was always so charming and patient with everyone else, apologizing profusely to the crew for the delays. But all his frustration, he saved for me. He even threw the pastries I brought onto the ground. “Molly, who told you to come here? Take your damn things and get out!” Tears stung my eyes. “You’re a bastard, Eric! You only ever take it out on me!” I shot back, my voice trembling. “I saw you were busy, so I waited in the green room. How was I in your way?” “I can’t do this anymore! We’re done!” I screamed. The word “done” seemed to stop him in his tracks. He stood frozen for a second, his fists clenched, visibly fighting back his rage. Then he strode over, pushed me into a chair, and kissed me—a rough, punishing kiss that was more bite than passion. “We can fight, Molly,” he growled against my lips. “But don’t you ever threaten to leave me again. Got it?” Back then, I thought his desperate attempt to keep me meant he truly loved me. Looking back now, I think he was just used to having me around. After all, not many women would be foolish enough to put their own career on hold and follow a struggling actor to a new city to chase his dream. I told him I had seen Mona’s livestream. And that wasn’t all. I brought up the press tour for their last project, where he and Mona had a tearful, emotional moment on stage. When the host asked what was wrong, Mona had cried, “Timing in life is just so important. I’m so envious of his girlfriend.” Eric had sighed and reached out to gently stroke her hair. The fans went wild. The shippers cut together dozens of viral clips of the moment. The caption always read: The tears are still on your face, but I no longer have the right to wipe them away. When I mentioned this, Eric pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice strained with forced patience. “Mona is new to this, Molly. She’s young, she has a hard time getting out of character. Is that a crime?” “She’s a colleague. A colleague was crying, so I comforted her. Is that a crime?” “The fans get too invested. I can’t control them. Is that a crime?” “Can you please stop being so suspicious all the time? You make me feel like some kind of monster. The pressure is already immense…” But I just didn’t understand. In the show, the characters got their happy ending. In real life, the show was a massive success, with rave reviews. What on earth were they crying about? I waited for his excuses to run out. Then I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Eric, let’s break up.” 2 My stubbornness finally exhausted his patience. He was in a hurry to catch a flight and didn’t have time to argue. “You need to cool off,” he said, tossing the words over his shoulder as he walked out. That was his solution to every problem between us. Ignore it. The next time we saw each other, we’d kiss and make up, and pretend the fight never happened. For him, if it wasn’t spoken of, it was forgotten. But I remembered. I had a running tally of every single slight. A few days later, I signed a contract to transfer ownership of my business. “Ms. Vance, your shop always seems so busy. Why are you closing?” the new owner asked. I looked around the flower shop, a pang of sadness in my chest. I had poured years of my life into this place. “Because I’m leaving Northwood,” I said. Eric and I were both from Southport. When he decided to move north to pursue his career, I quit my job and followed him. We were dirt poor at first. We lived in a tiny, one-room basement apartment that cost six hundred a month. The window was half-submerged at street level, and strangers would constantly peer in as they walked by. Northwood was a glittering metropolis, and we were like rats living in a sewer. The winters were brutal. I bought a secondhand space heater, and one night, faulty wiring caused it to catch fire. When Eric heard, he borrowed a friend’s car and drove seven hours through the night to get back to me. He was a man who channeled almost all his emotions into his acting. In everyday life, he was reserved, almost detached. But that night, he held me and cried so hard he could barely breathe. “Molly, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. “It’s my fault. You’re suffering because I can’t provide for you.” “I’ll make it big,” he promised. “I’ll make so much money, and I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you.” Seven years passed. Eric’s career soared, and the chasm between us grew wider with every success. It was inevitable. I have crippling anxiety when it comes to relationships. And Eric, of all things, is an actor. His job requires him to simulate intimacy, to pour his soul into another identity and pretend to fall in love with someone else. Once, he was filming a particularly intense scene with an actress. It was the emotional climax of the film, where the two characters finally confessed their tortured love for each other. They kissed until they were both crying, clinging to each other long after the director yelled “Cut.” They ended up tumbling onto the bed, their bodies pressed together, tearing at each other’s clothes. None of that was in the script. It was a raw, spontaneous overflow of emotion. The director was ecstatic, clapping his hands. “Brilliant! That was brilliant! They really felt it.” And by some cruel twist of fate, it was Eric’s birthday. I had come to the set with a gift. Seeing that… it shattered me. But what could I do? It was his job. If I got angry, if I showed my jealousy, I was just being unreasonable. My insecurity festered, making me anxious, paranoid, and controlling. One night, while Eric was in the shower, I checked his phone. He caught me. The look on his face was pure fury. “Molly, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you bored? Don’t you have a life of your own?” Three questions, each one a dagger. He was the one who had begged me to quit my job and move to Northwood with him. He said he loved how much I needed him, that he would take care of me forever. The day after that fight, I took all my savings and opened the flower shop. I was there every single day, rain or shine. I made myself busy. If I was busy, I wouldn’t have time to wonder who Eric was kissing today, how far the intimacy would go, or what would happen if he couldn’t separate the role from reality and truly fell in love with someone else. 3 It was past rush hour, and the subway car was nearly empty on my way home. Two girls sat next to me, giggling as they stared at a phone. “I’m telling you, they’re for real. Eric and Mona. You can’t fake that kind of body language, that subconscious need to be close.” “Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” “Come on, think about it. On one hand, you have the girlfriend of seven years. She’s getting old, there’s no mystery left. On the other, you have a gorgeous, vibrant movie star. If you were Eric, who would you choose?” I quietly pulled out my compact mirror and looked at my reflection. I was the campus beauty back in college. I wasn’t that washed up, was I? The truth is, I had forced Eric to go public with our relationship. At first, he said he didn’t want to bring his private life into the spotlight. The result was that no one in the industry even knew he was taken. Women pursued him, friends tried to set him up, and one producer even tried to proposition him. I finally blew up. “Do you really think it’s ‘unnecessary,’ Eric, or are you just ashamed of me? Are you afraid of losing your ‘single guy’ appeal?” He called me unreasonable. But he did it. He posted a simple announcement on his social media: [Happy 7 years to my amazing girlfriend, @MollysBlooms] That night, two hashtags trended simultaneously: #EricLarkinGoesPublic and #EricAndMona. The shippers had worked overnight, creating a viral post titled: You are the madness that exists outside the rules of my world. It was a meticulous compilation of every single flirty interaction between them. In their narrative, Eric and Mona were star-crossed lovers, and I was the villain keeping them apart. They claimed the only reason Eric hadn’t broken up with a mediocre woman like me was out of a sense of duty. Late that night, Mona went online. She liked the post, then quickly unliked it, and then posted that it was an “accidental slip.” A masterclass in plausible deniability. She even tagged me directly: [@MollysBlooms Hope you don’t mind, let’s get lunch sometime! xoxo] She acted like we were old friends. I had never even met her. Eric told me not to overthink it. “Mona’s just a sweet, innocent kid, Molly. She was probably just trying to make you feel less awkward.” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “She’s innocent. So what am I?” “You?” A small smirk played on his lips. “Come on, Molly. Don’t compare yourself to a girl that young.” His tone was patronizingly sweet. Mona was only two years younger than me. 4 One of the girls next to me took off her headphones, and a familiar voice drifted out. I remembered then—it was the fan meet for Eric’s new show in Bayside. It was being livestreamed. I pulled up the stream on my phone. Mona had recently been at the center of a media firestorm. Rumors were swirling about her—that she had been a bully in school, that she’d slept with a director to get a role, that she’d hooked up with co-stars. At the fan meet, she addressed the rumors for the first time. Within minutes, she was crying too hard to speak. And Eric was right there, protecting her. Every sharp question from the press, every nasty comment in the live chat—Eric shot them all down. “Online harassment is a terrifying thing,” he said, his voice firm and serious. “It can cause irreparable harm…” I laughed. A bitter, hollow sound. And then, the laughter turned into something else. A sharp sting in my nose. I covered my face with my hands, but the tears leaked through my fingers. “Are you okay?” one of the girls next to me asked, offering me a tissue. “Thanks…” Crying on the subway was mortifying. I got off at the next stop, even though it wasn’t mine. It was all his fault. Ever since he’d made our relationship public, his and Mona’s shippers had laid siege to my social media. “Just let him go. Let him be with someone who’s actually right for him.” “The one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. You’re just in the way.” “If you weren’t such a bitch, my ship would have sailed by now!” “Break up with him, or we’ll make you.” It escalated. The more extreme fans doxxed me. They sent me grotesque images in my DMs. A few even started showing up near my apartment, trying to confront me. I used to read stories about people who took their own lives because of online bullying. I felt sorry for them, but a part of me didn’t quite understand. Why not just turn off the internet? Why let the words of strangers destroy you? Now I knew. It was a terrifying, suffocating poison. At the time, Eric was on location for a film. My calls went unanswered, my texts vanished into a void. By the time he came home, I hadn’t slept properly in two weeks. I was a wreck, my nerves so frayed that a doctor had prescribed medication for anxiety. All Eric did was give me a quick hug and murmur, “Don’t worry about it, Molly. They’re just fans who can’t let go of the show.” Then he was off again, rushing to his next engagement. I had always told myself it was just his personality. He wasn’t the most observant or comforting person. It didn’t mean he didn’t love me. But now, watching him on the screen, fiercely defending Mona, speaking about the dangers of online bullying… watching him in the background while the director spoke, constantly handing Mona tissues, whispering in her ear until he made her smile through her tears… I realized what a complete and utter fool I had been. 5 I bought a plane ticket back to Southport. The day before I left, I had one last follow-up appointment with my doctor. His office was on the fifth floor, at the end of a long, sunlit corridor. Today, the corridor was blocked off, a crowd of people gathered around. I edged closer to see what was going on. They were filming a movie. I wasn’t interested. I turned to leave, but through a gap in the crowd, my eyes met Eric’s. And next to him stood Mona. I remembered then. He had mentioned his next role was a doctor. He just hadn’t mentioned it was another project with her. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care anymore. For a split second, our eyes locked. Eric frowned, taking an involuntary step toward me. I turned and walked away without looking back. Mona glanced in my direction, catching sight of a woman with long hair disappearing down the hall. “Who was that? Your girlfriend?” she asked. “Yeah.” “Here to check up on you?” Eric gave a slightly embarrassed smile. “I guess so.” Mona pouted. “Dating someone outside the industry is so much trouble. Following you all the way to a hospital… This is the first time I’ve ever been treated like some kind of homewrecker. What’s her problem?” “It’s not like that,” Eric said, his gaze still fixed on the empty hallway. “She just gets a little jealous sometimes. Insecure. It’s not about you.” During a break, Eric opened his phone. He noticed his last chat with me was from over two weeks ago. [When does filming wrap? Need to talk to you.] He’d read it but never replied. He must have forgotten. It was normal for him not to contact me while he was filming. But it was highly abnormal for me not to contact him. I was the one who usually spammed him with pointless messages—a great steak I ate, a windy day in Northwood, a cute dog I saw. I never cared if he read them or not. This silence meant she was still angry about their last fight. Usually, she got over things quickly. Why was she holding onto this one for so long? Remembering the cold look in her eyes just now, Eric worried she had gotten the wrong idea again. He decided he should probably explain. … I was waiting for my number to be called when my phone started ringing incessantly. Annoyed, I realized I’d forgotten something important. I declined the call, went to my contacts, and blocked the number. Then I opened my messages, found Eric’s name, and deleted the conversation. Much better. 6 Since his calls wouldn’t go through, Eric came to find me in person. Thankfully, it was a private clinic, and it was nearly closing time, so we didn’t become the center of attention. He reached out to ruffle my hair. “Came to see me?” “In your dreams.” “Still trying to fool me?” He sighed, a weary smile on his face. “Come on, Molly, don’t be jealous. The director specifically requested Mona and me for this project. He wanted to capitalize on the buzz from our last show.” He poked my cheek. “You’re such a little jealous thing, following me all the way here. Did you really think I’d cheat on you?” My patience snapped. “I told you, I’m not here for you. I have my own business to attend to.” “What business could you possibly have?” he retorted without thinking. At that exact moment, the electronic screen on the wall lit up with my name. “Patient B17, Molly Vance, please proceed to examination room 05…” I stood up. Eric grabbed my wrist, his face suddenly tight with shock and concern. “You’re sick?” 7 I shook his hand off, my expression blank. “It’s nothing. Just a check-up.” “What do you mean, ‘just a check-up’?” he pressed, his voice rising with alarm. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t you tell me?” He tried to follow me into the room, but I quickly shut the door in his face. Dr. Evans looked up. “Your boyfriend?” I’d been seeing him for a few years. We’d even run into each other on morning jogs by the river. We were friendly, and he knew about Eric. I shook my head. “Ex-boyfriend.” “Oh?” Dr. Evans raised an eyebrow. “Congratulations.” “Thank you.” Ever since Eric had screamed, “What the hell is wrong with you?” at me, I had started to believe something really was. So I went to a doctor. The diagnosis was mild depression and severe anxiety, specifically triggered by my romantic relationships. It mostly stemmed from my mother. My father died in a construction accident when I was two. My mother left me with my aging grandfather in the countryside and went to the city to find work. She would only come back once every few years, promise to stay for two weeks, and then disappear after two or three days. I became so terrified of her leaving that I would sleep on the floor outside her door, just to make sure she was still there in the morning. When she was home, I would cook for her, wash her clothes, and give her all the money I earned from collecting herbs in the mountains. I thought that if I could just prove how useful I was, she would love me more. One year, she came back with a man and a little boy—my new stepfather and stepbrother. My grandfather had passed away by then. It was the middle of a snowy winter, and I was running a fever, but I cooked and cleaned for all of them. The day before New Year’s Eve, my mother promised to take me shopping for new clothes the next day. I cried with happiness. The next morning, I pushed open her door to find the room empty. They had left in the middle of the night. The phone number was disconnected, the address she gave me was fake. They had simply vanished. I survived on the charity of my aunts and uncles. Before Eric, I had one other boyfriend. He cheated on me after less than six months. He said it was my fault, that I was too needy, so he had to find someone else. After that, the anxiety took root in my heart and grew like weeds. I was terrified of not being good enough for people, and terrified that they would betray me. Eric was right. Something was wrong with me. Dr. Evans had told me a long time ago that it wasn’t all my fault. He said my partner’s behavior wasn’t helping. He gave me two options: find a healthy distraction, or remove the source of my anxiety. Step one: I opened the flower shop. Step two: I left Eric. And now, I felt fantastic. My check-up went perfectly. “Your condition has stabilized, Molly,” Dr. Evans said with a smile. “You can stop the medication.” He shook my hand. “All the best. It was a pleasure knowing you.” 8 When I walked out of the exam room, Eric was gone. He had to get back to filming. He’d left a message for me with the young nurse at the front desk. “He said he knows he’s been neglecting you because of work, and that as soon as this movie wraps, he wants to give you a proper birthday celebration,” the nurse relayed, her eyes wide with envy. “Wow, you’re Eric Larkin’s girlfriend? He’s handsome, rich, and famous! You’re so lucky!” I didn’t know what to say. I just forced a smile. So many people told me how lucky I was, how much they envied me. But I never felt it. It was like having a fishbone stuck in my throat. You can’t swallow it, you can’t cough it up, and you can’t just walk around with your mouth open for everyone to see. Only you know how much it hurts. But now, finally, the bone was gone. The next morning, I boarded a plane to Southport. My best friend, Gia, picked me up from the airport. The moment she saw me, she wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug. “Molly, baby! I told you not to follow that jerk to Northwood! He doesn’t deserve you!” I laughed. “You might be the only person on the planet who thinks he’s not good enough for me.” “Of course! You’re too good for him! You’re a total sweetheart—if someone is even remotely nice to you, you’ll give them your whole heart. Eric never knew how to appreciate you, and he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life!” The last dregs of my post-breakup sadness evaporated under the warmth of Gia’s tirade. “Come on, baby girl,” she said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “Welcome back to my town. Forget that loser. I’m going to show you a good time.”

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1: The Declaration of Surrender My best friend and I were bound to the same System. Her mission: to seduce a celibate ascetic, to conquer his body. My mission: to seduce my aloof adoptive uncle, to conquer his heart. But the ascetic spent his days meditating with his prayer beads, completely detached from the mortal world. And my uncle was still hopelessly devoted to his old flame; after three years together, he still didn’t even see me as a woman. The constant heartbreak was too much. I decided to quit. “I’m exhausted,” I messaged her. “I’m done. You?” “If you’re out, I’m out,” she replied instantly. It was a deal. We both pulled out our phones, calculated our savings, and made a plan to cash out and escape. 2: Rock, Paper, Scissors for Death “But one of us has to go first,” I pointed out. “The first one to die gets to go home. The other one has to deal with the body and clean up the mess.” We looked at each other. Cassandra shot her hand up. “I’ve had it worse. I’ll die first.” “No way,” I argued. “I can’t stand another second in this godforsaken place. Rock, paper, scissors decides it.” “Fine. You’re on.” Cassandra threw scissors. I threw paper. She won. I stomped my foot in frustration. “Fine! You go first. I’ll handle the cleanup.” 3: Drunken Resolve For the next two days, I didn’t hear from Cassandra. I wondered what method she was planning to use to end her virtual life. That night, just as I was about to call her, my phone rang. It was her. “Julianna…” Her voice was thick and slurred, the words blurring together against the howl of the wind in the background. My heart seized. “Are you drunk?” “Just a little,” she said, letting out a boozy hiccup. “Liquid courage, you know? I’m… I’m about to do something big.” I shot up from the couch. “What? I thought we agreed on next Friday!” 4: Words on the Wind Our plan had been for her to go in seven days, giving me time to get her affairs in order before I followed. “I can’t wait anymore,” her voice was snatched away by the wind. “I think today is a good day. I want to die today.” “Julianna, I just wanted to see Damian one last time… I mean, I was with him for three years. I know what he wants from just a single look… I just can’t let it go like this…” “He’s having dinner with his precious Eleanor… won’t even pick up my calls…” “Three years… After three years, you’d think even a stray dog would’ve learned to love me…” “But he still doesn’t love me…” 5: The Final Call “…He still doesn’t love me.” “Damian, that bastard, he won’t even give me one last phone call… Well, if today is Eleanor’s birthday, then I’ll make it my death day. I’ll make sure Damian never, ever forgets!” She rambled on, her logic a tangled mess, but her intention was terrifyingly clear. She wanted to die tonight, and she wanted one last look, one last word, from Damian. He hadn’t given her that chance. “No,” I pleaded, my voice shaking as I grabbed my keys and bolted out the door. “Cassie, you can’t. I’m not ready for you to go. Not this suddenly.” “Cassie, where are you? Please, just wait for me. Let me be there with you, okay?” 6: Last Requests “Julianna…” She ignored my pleas, lost in her own world of pain. “Jumping… it’s not a pretty way to go. You’ll have to hire the best mortician to make me look beautiful again.” “And don’t bury me. I’m afraid of the dark. Burn me. Scatter my ashes in the Hudson River. I don’t want Damian to ever find me.” 7: A Desperate Search Every word she spoke was a needle in my heart. I had felt every bit of her pain, witnessed every moment of her suffering over these long years. A chill ran through me, but I forced my voice to stay calm. “Whatever you want, Cassie. I’ll do it. But you have to tell me where you are. I want to be with you.” “No… I don’t want you to see… It’ll scare you…” The line went quiet, leaving only the piercing shriek of the wind. I ran through the streets like a madwoman, screaming her name until my voice was raw and my legs gave out, sending me crashing to the pavement. 8: A Bloody Farewell “I’ll be waiting for you at home, Julianna.” That was the last thing Cassandra ever said to me. THUD. There, at the foot of the Grand Majestic Tower, I saw her. She fell from the eighteenth floor, a broken butterfly plummeting to the earth. Blood bloomed on the pavement, staining it crimson. Cassandra died right in front of my eyes. I collapsed beside her, my hand trembling as I reached out to touch her face. Sobs wracked my body. “You always cared so much about being beautiful… Why would you choose to die like this…?” I knew she wasn’t truly dead. We would see each other again, back in our own world. But seeing her like this, so broken and final, shattered me completely. 9: The Agony of the Flames I had overestimated my own strength, and underestimated how much she meant to me. For three years, we had been each other’s lifelines, the only thing that got us through the nights of cruelty and despair. At the crematorium, my own hands pushed her body into the incinerator. I watched as the flames consumed the face that once held the brightest smile I had ever known. When the attendant handed me the small, heavy box, the tears I had been holding back finally broke free. “Cassie,” I whispered, clutching the urn to my chest. “How did you become so small…?” 10: The River Burial I did as she asked. I took her ashes to the edge of the Hudson River. The current was strong, and it swept her away in an instant, leaving no trace. Just like that, she was gone. “Wait for me,” I whispered to the churning water. “I’ll be there soon.” Just then, her phone, which I’d kept in my bag, buzzed. I pulled it out. It was a text from Damian. [The Peninsula Grand. 8 PM. Be there.] A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. He was always like this. He never once cared about her feelings. 11: The Message That Came Too Late He was always like this. She was nothing more than a tool for his physical release, to be summoned and dismissed at his whim. When he didn’t need her, he would vanish. When he did, she was expected to drop everything and run to his side. But why? Just because she loved him, did that mean she deserved to be trampled on? I didn’t reply. I just turned the phone off. He had missed his last chance to see her. Let him live with that regret forever. 12: The Light Fades I sat by the river until dawn before finally heading home. The early morning sun touched my skin, but I felt no warmth. I was just so tired, physically and emotionally drained. The System demanded I maintain my character’s persona: the girl hopelessly in love. So, in the past, no matter how ugly our fights had been, I would always be up at six a.m. the next morning to make breakfast for Julian. The System always promised me that the bitterness would eventually turn sweet. That once I succeeded, a man like Julian would cherish me, would put me on a pedestal. But in three years, I had tasted nothing but bitterness. The sweetness never came. Cassandra’s final wishes were fulfilled. It was my turn to leave. I picked up the knife from the kitchen counter and held it to my wrist. But I hesitated. I made a few false starts, then put the knife down with a sigh. Julian hated me so much. If I died in his house, he would probably be disgusted. He always said I wasn’t worthy of his family name. He said my parents, his brother and sister-in-law, should never have adopted me, that they had raised a monster who would fall for her own uncle. He said I deserved to be abandoned, a worthless stray that nobody wanted. But being abandoned wasn’t my fault. If I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t have wanted his name either. But no one ever gave me a choice. Not even the System. It had forced this life on me. I collapsed onto my bed and, against all odds, fell asleep. In the heavy haze of my slumber, the System’s cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. “Julianna, your point accumulation is complete. The exit portal is now open. Please be prepared for departure by tomorrow evening.” Good, I thought. I’m going home. Then my eyes snapped open.

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Five years after my sister Celeste handed me to traffickers, I escaped, starving. Spotting smashed cake on the sidewalk, I scooped a handful into my mouth. Before I could swallow, a brutal kick sent me sprawling. “Aidan! Must you ruin Jackson’s birthday?” Celeste, the billionaire heiress, glared down at me, fresh from throwing a multi-million dollar party for the boy she raised as our brother. Her voice was ice. “See how hard life is? This is what you deserve.” “Your five-year exile ends next month. I’ll bring you home and give you the best life—on one condition: never harm Jackson again.” Blinking through blurred vision, I let out a hollow laugh. Her face had always been indistinct, a mere source of pain. “I won’t,” I murmured. She needn’t worry about Jackson anymore. And I wouldn’t be going home. With terminal brain cancer, living another month was a luxury I couldn’t afford. … I choked down the bitter mouthful of cake. I knew she couldn’t stand the sight of me, so I scrambled to my feet, trying to get my lame leg under me, wanting only to disappear. But the cancer had spread to my optic nerves, and the world was a murky haze. I had to bend low, my hands sweeping the ground in front of me as I shuffled forward. A burst of laughter echoed from behind me. It was Celeste’s friends. “God, he’s really laying it on thick with the whole crippled beggar act. Anything to make Celeste feel sorry for him and take him home early.” “It’s pathetic. He has no shame, doing this in public.” “Seriously. Celeste is a titan of industry. He’s such an embarrassment to her.” I could feel the heat of Celeste’s humiliation, even from a distance. Her voice, when it came, was low and seething with rage. “Aidan, I said one month. Not a day less. Don’t even think about it.” She added, her voice dripping with scorn, “Besides, I paid them to treat you well. You might have had it a little rough, but there’s no way you’d end up like this. Your act is disgusting.” I froze. Treat me well? The memories, sharp and jagged, tore through my mind. But I just shook my head, a faint smile on my lips, and kept moving. I’d only taken a few steps when someone blocked my path. “Aidan, wait!” The voice was familiar. Even without seeing his face, I knew it was Jackson. He pressed a perfect, untouched slice of cake into my hand. Then he took both of my hands in his, his smile as soft as his grip was cruel, his fingernails digging deep into my flesh. “It’s my birthday, so I forgive you for everything that happened,” he said, his voice a sweet poison. “I just hope that when you come home, we can finally get along.” The kinder his smile, the deeper his nails sank, until I felt the warm trickle of blood. But I didn’t cry out. No one would care. No one would believe me. I just took the cake, my only thought to get away from them, to hoard what little time I had left. Back in my makeshift bed under the bridge, I fumbled for the nearly-expired painkillers, swallowing a handful to dull the throbbing in my head. A bitter wind howled through the concrete archway, and I pulled my thin, threadbare shirt tighter around my skeletal frame. Just then, a large van pulled up. A loudspeaker blared to life. “With the sudden drop in temperature, our own Ms. Blackwood is here to share some warmth! Come and get your winter coats and blankets!” A spark of life ignited in the eyes of the dozens of homeless people huddled under the bridge. They scrambled to form a line. My head pounded, but I dragged myself to the very end of it. When my turn finally came, the volunteer looked at me, then down at a photo on his phone. He waved a dismissive hand. “Sorry. Ms. Blackwood gave specific instructions. Nothing for you.” He sneered, his lip curling in disgust. “She’s a famous philanthropist, a living saint. She helps every down-and-out person she can. You must be a special kind of scum for her to single you out like this.” I pressed my lips together. I had expected it, but the absurdity still made me want to laugh. Celeste Blackwood, winner of the Global Philanthropist of the Year award. The woman who, out of the goodness of her heart, had kept Jackson in the lap of luxury even after discovering he wasn’t her real brother. The woman who donated millions to charities across the globe, earning endless praise for her kindness. But she wouldn’t spare a single life-saving blanket for her own flesh and blood. The cold was too intense to sleep, so I decided to move around, to try and generate some warmth. As I stood up, I saw him: a small boy, his mouth covered by the hand of a large, burly man who was dragging him away. I knew that scene. I knew that man. He was a trafficker. Without thinking, ignoring the searing pain in my skull, I lunged forward and sank my teeth into the man’s wrist, tasting blood. I kicked and punched with all my might, but my illness had wasted me away to skin and bones. He was too strong. He saved the boy, but it cost me a broken rib. Somehow, I barely felt the pain. I just looked at the boy, safe and sound, and started to laugh. The laughter turned to sobs, tears streaming down my face. No one, no one, knew better than me which was worse: being a beggar, or being one of the trafficked. Five years ago, on Jackson’s birthday. It had all started with a single, tearful lie from him. “Celeste! Aidan called me a fake! He said I stole his life, and he was going to sell me to traffickers!” Just then, the security guards dragged a shifty-looking man out of the gardens. He swore up and down that I had paid him to kidnap Jackson. I tried to deny it, but Celeste wouldn’t listen. Her eyes were red with fury as she struck me across the face, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. “I thought if I spoiled you enough, I could erase the bad habits you picked up. But I just made you more vicious, more cruel!” she screamed. “Before Mom and Dad died, I promised them I’d raise you right. If kindness won’t work, then you’ll have to learn the hard way!” On the first day after she gave me to them, they broke my leg and sold me to a sweatshop. I’d often work for two days straight with nothing to eat. They even sold me to a traveling circus, where I was kept in a cage, an animal for the crowds to gawk at. I was less than a dog. Once, I managed to steal a phone and call her, crying, begging her to take me home. Her voice was unyielding. “I promised Jackson you’d suffer for five full years. That’s the only way to break your spirit so you’ll never dare to bully him again.” Jackson. Always Jackson. From the very first day she brought me home from the orphanage, he had framed me, time and time again. And every time, she took his side. In her eyes, I became a monster. After that call, I shattered. I never again dared to hope for the love I had lost. I just became numb, letting them do whatever they wanted to me. Until one night, the crate they kept me in was left unlocked. I tumbled out and rolled down a hillside to freedom. Terrified of being caught, I never tried to find work, never showed my face. I begged, collected bottles, and scraped together just enough money to see a doctor about my old injuries. That was when they found the cancer. Terminal. The little boy I’d saved gently touched my face, wiping away my tears. He draped half of his new, thick blanket over my shoulders, and we huddled together for warmth. Suddenly, a massive screen on a skyscraper across the river lit up with the evening news. “Billionaire Celeste Blackwood purchases a one-hundred-million-dollar estate in a premier European country for her brother! A true philanthropist whose kindness continues to fuel her incredible success!” The little boy stared at the mansion on the screen, then looked up at me with innocent eyes. “Mister, does everyone get to have a home? I hope you and I both get a home someday.” I froze. A home? The orphanage had been a home for all of us kids. When I was found, the Blackwood mansion was Jackson’s home. And now, with my life ticking away, all I wanted was a place that was truly my own, even in death. So I started working. Day and night, I collected recyclables, sold scrap, did any odd job I could find, no matter how grueling. I finally saved enough for a deposit on a small burial plot. My body was failing. There were whole days I’d drift in and out of consciousness. I knew I could die at any moment, and I still owed the final payment on my grave. As I was despairing, a woman on the street handed me a flyer. “Check this out. A mystery CEO is hosting a yacht party tonight. They’re hiring people to shine shoes for the rich ladies. Easy work, pays a few hundred for the night.” She winked. “And the best part? Some of those rich folks tip, and they tip big.” She held up four fingers. I looked at her hand, then took the flyer. At this point, any paying work was a blessing. I boarded a bus with the other workers and was taken to the marina. From the moment I stepped onto that gleaming yacht, I was on my knees. I knelt by the entrance, shining an endless parade of expensive shoes. The woman hadn’t been lying. Some of the wealthy guests would carelessly toss a tip my way that was more than I’d made in a month. I lost track of time until a sudden cheer went up from the crowd. “Here he is! The man of the hour!” I kept my head down, reaching for the next pair of shoes, but a polished loafer kicked the rag from my hand. A familiar voice sneered down at me. “Aidan! God, you are pathetic. Is there any degrading stunt you won’t pull to get my attention?” It was Celeste. “You have three days left. Couldn’t you even wait that long?” I looked up and finally understood. This was a party she was throwing for Jackson. She was glaring at me, her face a mask of shame and fury. Her fists were clenched, but in the end, she just spat a curse under her breath and stormed inside. The sounds of celebration drifted out from the main deck. I just sat there, counting the crumpled bills in my hand. It was just enough. I had just enough for the final payment. I quickly called the cemetery director. But as I gave him my information, he sounded confused. “Aidan Blackwood? I’m sorry, I can’t find you in the system. Your legal identity has been voided. You can’t make the purchase.” “What? That’s impossible! Did you spell it right? Can you please check again?” The man, hearing the frantic desperation in my voice, kindly made a few inquiries. He came back on the line a moment later, his voice soft with pity. “The records office says your identity was legally dissolved by a compulsory order… filed by the billionaire, Celeste Blackwood.” The phone slipped from my numb fingers and clattered onto the deck. My eyes burned. Why? Why couldn’t she even let me die in peace? Was she really so determined to protect Jackson that she would erase my very existence? A roar filled my ears. I stumbled to my feet and burst into the party. “Celeste!” The music screeched to a halt. Every head turned. “Why did you do it? Why did you erase me?” I screamed, my voice raw. “Don’t I even have the right to exist?” Celeste slowly swirled the wine in her glass, her expression unreadable. “You’re capable of any despicable trick to make me feel sorry for you. Who knows what you’d do to Jackson once you were back in the house? If you have no legal identity, you’re powerless.” She took a sip. “But don’t worry. I’m still your sister. I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe for the rest of your life.” A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. Keep me safe? She was the one killing me. Jackson, ever the dutiful son, gently patted her back. He glanced at the money I was still clutching. “Aidan, why do you insist on doing these… degrading things? Is there anything Celeste wouldn’t give you? If you hadn’t broken her heart and embarrassed her, she wouldn’t have had to do this.” He walked over, snatched the cash from my hand, and with a theatrical flourish, scattered it into the wind. I was too stunned to react. I reached out, my fingers grasping at the air as my life’s savings, my final dignity, fluttered down into the dark ocean, instantly soaked and lost. Jackson smiled, as if he had just performed a great act of charity. “This dirty money, it’s not fit for anything. Let’s return it to nature. Maybe it will purify you a little, too.” I stared, empty-eyed, at the dark water. He could enjoy the life Celeste gave him without a second thought, but the money I earned with my own two hands was “dirty.” His smug, condescending laugh echoed in my ears, and something inside me finally snapped. I spun around, my fist raised. “That was mine! You had no right—” Before my hand could even get close, Jackson threw himself backward, tumbling over the railing and into the sea. Celeste’s eyes went wide with terror. Without a moment’s hesitation, she dove in after him. A moment later, she was hauling him back onto the deck, frantically calling for an ambulance while performing CPR. Finally, Jackson coughed up a lungful of seawater, his eyes fluttering open. “Aidan,” he whispered, his voice weak and full of false sorrow. “I was only trying to fix things between you and Celeste… why… why did you have to try and kill me?” “Celeste, I see it now. He’ll never accept me. If it’s a choice between me leaving or me dying… please, just let me go.” Celeste looked like her heart was being ripped from her chest. She shot to her feet and, turning on me, slapped me so hard my head snapped to the side. “Aidan! Have you learned nothing in five years?” she shrieked, her voice filled with a pain that was all for him. “Pulling pathetic stunts to get my attention is one thing, but how dare you try to harm Jackson?” “No,” I whispered, shaking my head, helpless and dazed. “It wasn’t me…” But the look in her eyes was the same as it had always been. A wall of disappointment and disgust. I should have known. When it came to Jackson, she would never, ever believe me. My cheek burned, the words of my defense dying in my throat. But then, a strange impulse took over, and I looked at Celeste, my voice barely a whisper. “If I died, you’d be happy, wouldn’t you?” She heard me. A cold sneer twisted her lips. “If you really died, I’d pop champagne to celebrate.” I stood frozen as the world around me dissolved into a blurry tableau of people fussing over Jackson. I was an island in a sea of their concern, utterly alone. I lowered my head. “Then you’ll get your wish soon…” I murmured. She didn’t hear me clearly and turned to ask what I’d said, but all she saw was my lonely, limping figure disappearing into the shadows. A strange, unsettling feeling pricked at Celeste’s heart, but it was quickly forgotten as Jackson pulled her back into his world with a sweet chorus of “Celeste.” To make up for Jackson’s “ordeal,” the yacht party was extended for another week. I couldn’t get off the boat. I found a dark corner and curled into a ball, the sounds of their laughter and music lulling me into a deep, final sleep. … A week later, after much hesitation, Celeste decided it was time to bring Aidan home. She would have a real talk with him, set things straight. But as she was making the arrangements, her phone rang. It was the yacht’s cleaning crew supervisor, his voice trembling uncontrollably. “Ms. Blackwood, the… the boy who was shining shoes… he’s dead. We just found him. He’s… he’s been here for a while.” The expression on Celeste’s face froze. The phone slipped from her grasp, and she barely caught it. It took a long moment for her to command her voice, to force a semblance of calm. “Which boy? There were dozens of workers. Be specific.” She had heard him. “The boy who was shining shoes.” And she knew. She knew Aidan was the only one. But maybe… maybe the cleaner was mistaken. The voice on the other end, holding back a gag, said, “He’s young… but the body is… it’s hard to tell what he looked like. But… he’s wearing a silver locket. It’s engraved with the letter ‘B’…”

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The man my wife had always loved suddenly became a monk. To follow him, she donated her multi-million dollar fortune to build him a monastery, joining him in a life of piety. I was left to wander the streets with our sick daughter, desperately seeking medical help, nearly freezing to death. Eventually, I worked construction, did dangerous underwater salvage work—anything to keep myself and my daughter alive. Through sheer force of will, I built my own company from the ground up. Then, on the very day I landed the biggest contract of my career, my wife returned. Her one true love had cancer, and she wanted me to pay for his treatment. 1. The day I secured the largest construction project in the city, I received a text from my sister-in-law. 【Cole, my sister’s back. Get ready, we’re almost at your office.】 I stared at the screen, a cold knot forming in my stomach as the words sank in. Rhiannon. My wife. The woman who had abandoned us to chase after a ghost in a monastery. I didn’t reply. A second text came through. 【Come on, Cole, don’t be so petty. She promised me this time, she’s not going to leave you again. It’s been so many years, and she really misses Summer. Can you really stand for your child not to have a mother?】 I read the words and fell silent. The mention of Summer’s name sent a jolt of panic through me. I immediately dialed her number. Summer was only five when Rhiannon left. The day she understood her mother was gone for good, she cried until she was sick. For years, her most frequent question was always the same: Daddy, why don’t I have a mommy? I didn’t want Summer to know Rhiannon was back. She had finally, painstakingly, come to terms with a life without a mother. I couldn’t bear to see her heart break all over again. Summer picked up, her voice bright. “Hey, Dad! When are you picking me up?” I forced a smile into my voice. “Hey, sweetie. Dad’s got something to take care of today. How about I have Lily, my assistant, pick you up? I sent her some money. You two can hit the mall, buy yourself something nice.” “Wow, Dad,” she teased, “since when did you get so generous?” “Don’t be a smart-aleck,” I chuckled. “Just come by the office after you’re done shopping, okay?” “Okay! Thanks, Dad.” 2. After hanging up, I hurried downstairs. Two women were standing outside the main entrance. Even after all these years, I recognized Rhiannon instantly. She hadn’t changed much, though the once-flawless skin of her face now bore fine lines. Her complexion was darker, and I could see threads of gray in her hair. She stood with her hands on her hips, her voice sharp with impatience as she spoke to her sister. “Did you even tell Cole I was coming today? I’ve been waiting forever. Why isn’t he down here yet?” Her sister, Ruby, tried to placate her. “Calm down. You were gone for years. It’s normal for him to be a little moody. Just be patient.” Rhiannon scoffed. “I can’t believe I ever fell for a man like him.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. She wasn’t wrong. Even I had been shocked when she’d agreed to marry me. She came from a wealthy family; I was a poor kid from the countryside with no parents. But the man she’d always worshipped, Leo, had moved abroad. It was as if she’d given up on love, and she stumbled into a life with me. After we were married, her family—and she herself—never stopped looking down on me. Then came the news that Leo had renounced the world to become a monk. That same night, Rhiannon made her decision. She liquidated her multi-million dollar assets, sold her company, and used the money to build a monastery for him, joining him in his spiritual retreat. The world was stunned by her grand gesture. The story of their epic, tragic love was on everyone’s lips. Meanwhile, our daughter was diagnosed with leukemia and desperately needed money for treatment. With nowhere else to go, I took Summer and started searching for a cure. With no money, we slept on the streets. I took the most dangerous jobs I could find—construction, underwater salvage diving. One dive could earn me a hundred thousand dollars. I lost count of how many times I went down into the dark water, how many times I almost didn’t come back up. After years of risking my life, I finally had enough money to save my daughter. Our lives had just found a fragile peace, a measure of comfort. And now, Rhiannon was back. As I stood there, lost in thought, Ruby spotted me. “Cole! There you are!” she called out cheerfully. Rhiannon turned, her face a mask of annoyance. “What took you so long? Hurry up and let us in. My legs are killing me from all this standing.” A cold smile touched my lips. “What are you doing back here?” Her expression hardened. “Your company is my company. Why can’t I be here?” “Yours?” I sneered. “If I recall, you sold your company. And your home. Or have you forgotten?” She flinched, then her face flushed with anger. “It was years ago! Can’t you let it go? For God’s sake, you’re a grown man. Stop being so petty.” “I’m not as generous as you, ‘Miss Rhiannon.’ I wouldn’t spend my entire fortune to play nun with another man.” My words hit their mark. She raised her hand to slap me, an old, familiar gesture. She used to do that whenever she was the slightest bit displeased. Back then, because I loved her, I took it. But now? I wouldn’t let her lay a finger on me. Sensing a fight, Ruby quickly stepped between us. “Hey, what’s wrong with you two? This is supposed to be a happy day. Why are you fighting?” She turned to me, her voice wheedling. “Cole, I know you’re upset. She was gone a long time, it’s normal to be angry. But I’ve already given her a piece of my mind. She promised she’ll never leave you again. You know what they say, couples fight. There’s no need to make a big scene over something so small.” “Small?” I repeated, my voice dangerously low. “She almost got me and my daughter killed. Is that a small thing?” Rhiannon exploded. “Of course it’s a small thing! And what do you mean, I almost got her killed? You’re her father! It’s a man’s job to provide for his family! What did you expect from me, a woman?” She was practically screaming now. “Besides, it was my money! I could have thrown it in a fire and it would have been none of your business!” Hearing that, I laughed. A hollow, empty sound. “Fine,” I said. “If that’s how you feel, then please leave. I hope you never appear in front of me or my daughter again. We don’t want to see you.” Seeing my resolve, Ruby looked from me to her sister, flustered. “Cole, don’t be so rash. Even if you don’t want to see her, what about Summer? Have you asked her what she wants? I’m sure she misses her mother.” At the mention of her daughter, Rhiannon’s confidence surged back. “That’s right. I’m Summer’s mother. I have a right to see my own daughter. What right do you have to kick me out?” She said it without a hint of shame. That’s when my control finally snapped. I turned to the security guard. “I don’t know these two women. Please escort them off the premises.” Rhiannon shrieked and lunged at me. But just then, a clear voice cut through the chaos. “Dad? What are you doing out here?” 3. Panic seized me. Even now that Summer was a teenager, I still saw the flicker of envy in her eyes whenever she saw other girls with their mothers. I was terrified that the heart she had so carefully walled off would be sealed shut once more. I tried to step in front of her, to shield her from the sight of Rhiannon, but it was too late. Summer had already walked right up to her. “Summer,” Rhiannon gushed, her voice dripping with manufactured emotion. “It’s me, Mommy! I’m back! Did you miss me?” I watched my daughter, my heart in my throat, ready to throw them both out at the slightest sign of distress. But Summer just smiled. “Mom. You’re back.” Rhiannon was ecstatic. She shot me a triumphant look. “Yes, I am! Your father was about to turn me away. You’ve grown up so much, Summer. You take after me, thank God. Not petty like your father.” She tried to take Summer’s hand, attempting to project the image of a doting mother. Summer gently pulled her hand away. Seeing the flash of anger on Rhiannon’s face, Summer just smiled again. “Well, since you’re here, you might as well come in.” Rhiannon’s smug expression returned. I took Summer’s arm, my voice low. “Summer, if you don’t want to see her, I’ll get rid of her right now.” She just patted my hand. “Dad, what are you talking about? She’s my mother, after all.” Her composure eased some of my fears. Rhiannon and Ruby swept into my company as if they owned the place. They looked around, their noses in the air. “Cole, I have to admit, I’m surprised a country boy like you managed to start a company,” Rhiannon announced. “It’s not bad. But I don’t like the decor. You’ll have to have it redone.” My employees stared as the two women strutted around, pointing and criticizing. Whispers broke out across the office. Rhiannon sat down in my chair, in my office, like a queen on her throne. After a moment, she pointed a finger at my assistant, Lily. “What kind of assistant are you? I’ve been here for five minutes and you haven’t even brought me a cup of tea.” She sneered at me. “See, Cole? You still don’t know how to manage people. But don’t worry, I’m back now. I’ll take over and get these people into shape.” My face was a storm cloud. If it weren’t for Summer, I would have dragged her out by her hair. Lily looked at me, uncertain. But it was Summer who spoke. “Lily, would you mind getting us some tea, please?” Lily nodded and quickly left. Rhiannon continued her inspection of my office. “This will all have to be redecorated to my taste. Oh, and Ruby doesn’t have a job right now. Find her an easy position here tomorrow. Since she’s my sister, her salary can’t be too low. Let’s say ten thousand a month, plus full benefits.” Ruby beamed. “Thank you, Cole!” she chimed in, not waiting for my reply. I just sneered and excused myself to the restroom. On a whim, I pulled out my phone and accessed the security camera feed for my office. As soon as I was gone, Ruby turned to her sister. “You were right, Rhiannon. You know him so well. No matter how mad he is, he wouldn’t dare do anything to you with Summer around.” She ran her hands over the expensive furniture. “Our family has been in decline ever since Mom and Dad died. I haven’t been around things this nice in so long. You have to play your cards right this time.” Rhiannon smiled smugly. “Of course. I know Cole better than anyone. He acts tough, but he’s a total softy. All I have to do is act a little vulnerable and he’ll cave. Soon, all of this will be mine.” The greed in her eyes was undisguised. I let out a short, sharp laugh. I couldn’t understand how she could possibly believe I was the same man she’d left behind, the man who would forgive her anything. Or how a person could be so utterly shameless. 4. Just as they were talking, Summer walked back in. Rhiannon pulled her into a chatty, casual conversation. “So, Summer, you must be in middle school now, right?” Summer smiled faintly. “I’m in high school, Mom.” Not even knowing what grade her own daughter was in. Rhiannon’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she quickly changed the subject. “Oh, right! I was just so excited I forgot. It’s a good thing you look like me. If you took after your father, you’d probably be working some dead-end job by now.” Even now, her disdain for me was palpable. She seemed to have forgotten that our fortunes had been completely reversed. Summer didn’t argue. Instead, she said, “Mom, my dad has a dinner meeting with some important clients at a five-star hotel. We should probably get going.” Rhiannon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, perfect. Your aunt and I are starving. We’ll go with you.” When I came out of the restroom, she looked at me imperiously. “Go get the car.” Before I could speak, Summer stepped in. “Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. Dad has to pick up his other clients. There’s no room. You’ll have to take a taxi.” Rhiannon was clearly annoyed, but she reluctantly agreed. In the car, I looked at my daughter, confused. “Summer, I’m not picking anyone else up. And… you don’t hate her?” Summer just looked at me. “She’s my mother, Dad.” I drove to the hotel in silence. Rhiannon and Ruby had arrived before us. After finding out which private room we were in, they had made themselves at home, taking the seats at the head of the table. I was furious. These were business associates, friends, but even so, her behavior was appallingly rude. Summer, however, remained calm. With a maturity that belied her years, she simply signaled for the waiter to begin serving the food. Rhiannon’s eyes were practically glued to the lavish dishes being brought out—roast duck, lobster, steak. She looked desperate. Too many years of a vegetarian diet, I supposed. But when she noticed that everyone at the table had been given plates and silverware except for her and her sister, she snapped at the waiter. “Hey! Is this what you call five-star service? How am I supposed to eat without any utensils?” That’s when Summer smiled. “Mom,” she said, her voice sweet as honey, “I didn’t tell them to set a place for you and Aunt Ruby.”

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