Inside the sterile interview room of the precinct, my last passenger was a total mess. Hair a tangled wreck, clothes disheveled. She was sobbing to the officer. “Officer, it was him! This ride-share driver, he… he tried to assault me.” “If you don’t lock people like him up, there’s no justice in this world! And I demand compensation for my emotional distress!” With that, she collapsed onto the floor, throwing a full-blown tantrum. I couldn’t believe the audacity. All I did was ask her not to smoke in my car, and now she was accusing me of sexual assault. The thing is, I’m a woman too. I just happen to dress on the butch side. How the hell was I supposed to assault her? 1. I sat on the cold, hard metal chair, watching the circus unfold. The woman, Tiffany, was putting on a real tearjerker of a performance. She pointed a trembling finger right at my nose. “It was him! The way he was looking at me in the car… so creepy! He tried to touch my thigh!” The young officer taking notes frowned, his gaze shifting to me, dripping with contempt. In his eyes, I was probably just some scumbag driver with a crew cut, cargo pants, and a dark tan. I opened my mouth. “Officer, I’m—” “You shut up!” Tiffany shrieked, cutting me off. “You’re a damn predator! You think you have the right to speak? If I hadn’t fought for my life, I’d have nothing left!” Her wails grew louder, echoing off the bare walls of the interview room. The officer slammed his hand on the table. “Quiet down! This is a police station!” He glared back at me. “You. Cooperate. Driver’s license.” I started to reach into my pocket. Tiffany lunged forward, slapping my hand down. “Don’t move! Officer, he has a knife! He threatened me with it in the car!” That was it. I lost my temper and shoved her hand away. “Are you insane? I’m getting my license!” “Ah! He’s hitting me! The pervert is hitting me!” She threw herself to the ground, clutching her stomach and writhing as if in agony. The whole routine was so smooth, she was wasting her talent not being in Hollywood. The officer shot to his feet, his hand hovering over his sidearm. “What do you think you’re doing? Sit down!” Two other officers burst in, grabbing me by the shoulders and forcing me back into the chair. I felt a sharp pain, like my joints were about to pop. “I didn’t touch her, and I don’t have a knife,” I said, clenching my jaw to keep my voice steady. “I was just getting my ID to prove my innocence.” Lying on the floor, Tiffany peeked at me through her fingers while letting out pathetic moans. “I can’t go on… being bullied by this trash… I might as well be dead!” This wasn’t a victim filing a report. This was a professional scam artist. I’d been a ride-share driver for three years and had seen my share of weirdos, but I’d never met anyone this venomous. 2. The truth was simple. Two hours ago, I’d accepted Tiffany’s ride request. The moment she got in, a wave of cheap, cloying perfume nearly choked me. We hadn’t even driven a mile before she pulled out a cigarette and lit it. My car is strictly non-smoking. I keep the windows cracked year-round, even in the dead of winter, just to keep the air fresh. I politely asked her to put it out. She ignored me, flicking her ash onto my leather seats. I had no choice but to pull over. I told her if she was going to smoke, she’d have to get out. That’s when she exploded. She screamed and cursed, snapped my phone mount in half, and then dumped the dregs of her bubble tea all over me and the passenger seat. Before I could even react, she ripped open the collar of her own shirt, messed up her hair, and bolted out of the car, screaming for help. A crowd of onlookers, having no idea what was really going on, swarmed my car. They were ready to flip it over. And that’s how I ended up here. Now, my leather interior was probably ruined by sticky tea, and I was stuck listening to her spin this fantasy. “Officer, this man is a menace to society!” Tiffany declared, seeing that I was restrained. She scrambled up from the floor, her stomach miraculously healed. She leaned toward the officer, her voice filled with self-righteous anger. “I’m not interested in mediation. I want him in jail! And he’s going to pay for my emotional distress, lost wages, and defamation. A hundred thousand dollars!” A hundred thousand? She was out of her mind. I let out a cold laugh. “A hundred grand? Why don’t you just rob a bank?” Tiffany pointed at me, her face contorted with rage. “A broke-ass driver like you will never see that much money in your life! If you can’t pay up, you can rot in a cell!” The officer rapped his knuckles on the table impatiently. “That’s enough! Let’s get the story straight. Is there a dashcam in the car?” The mention of the camera gave me a surge of confidence. “Yes. I have a dual-camera system. Everything’s on the memory card.” Tiffany’s expression flickered for a second, but she quickly recovered her arrogant sneer. “He definitely deleted it! He was messing with his phone the whole time in the car!” I ignored her and spoke to the officer. “The card is in the dashcam. You can retrieve it yourselves. I’m innocent, and the footage will prove it.” The officer nodded and sent one of his colleagues out to my impounded car in the lot. Just then, the door to the interview room swung open. A burly man walked in, his arms covered in tattoos and a thick gold chain around his neck. One look at him, and I knew this was about to get a lot worse. 3. “Who? Who the hell messed with my girl?” the man boomed, his voice shaking the small room. Seeing her backup had arrived, Tiffany threw herself into his arms, crying even more hysterically than before. “Spike! It was him! That sicko! He touched me, he tried to force himself on me!” The man, Spike, shot me a murderous glare. He stormed over and raised his hand to strike me. The officer moved fast, stepping between us. “Hey! This is a police station. You want to start something in here?” Spike lowered his hand but jabbed a finger in my direction. “Fine. I won’t touch you while the cops are here. But you just wait, buddy. The second you walk out that door, I’ll fucking end you.” A threat? I don’t respond well to threats. I met his gaze head-on. “Is that so? I guess we’ll see how you manage that.” Spike was clearly taken aback by my defiance. He paused, then broke into a malicious grin. “Tough talk. Honey, tell the officer exactly what this piece of scum did to you. We don’t need his money, we want justice!” With her enforcer by her side, Tiffany’s confidence swelled. “That’s right! He needs to be punished! A hundred thousand was letting you off easy. Now I want two hundred thousand! Not a penny less!” I had to laugh. Were we at a flea market now, haggling over the price of my freedom? “This is extortion,” I said calmly. “Extortion?” Spike slammed his palm on the table. “You put your hands on my woman, you violated her, and you think a little money is too much? In the old days, you would’ve lost that hand!” “Watch your mouth!” the officer barked. “Sit down!” Spike grumbled under his breath and pulled up a chair next to Tiffany. They whispered to each other, shooting venomous looks my way every few seconds. A short while later, the officer who’d gone to my car returned. He was holding my dashcam, a troubled look on his face. “Sergeant, it didn’t record.” “What?” The word escaped my lips before I could stop it. “The memory card’s corrupted. There’s no data on it,” the officer said, shaking his head. My heart plummeted. Corrupted? How could it be? I check my equipment every single day. Hearing this, Tiffany sprang to life. “See! I told you he deleted it! That’s destruction of evidence! Officer, you have to help me!” Spike chimed in. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? If he had nothing to hide, why delete the footage? This guy’s a pro!” The officer’s gaze on me hardened. “Can you explain why the camera failed?” I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. What could I say? That the device just happened to break? Even I wouldn’t buy that excuse. “I didn’t delete anything. Maybe the card was faulty, or…” “Or what?” the officer interrupted. “Right now, there’s no direct evidence to prove your innocence, and the victim is adamant you harassed her. You’re in a very difficult position.” I knew it was more than just difficult. Without the footage, it was my word against hers. A classic he-said, she-said. But I still had one ace up my sleeve. 4. Just as I was about to speak, Tiffany whipped out her phone and started recording me. “You guys, you won’t believe this! This is the pervert driver! He’s still acting all tough at the police station! The officer just said he deleted the dashcam footage! Total guilty conscience!” She narrated as she filmed, shoving the phone right in my face. The officer frowned. “No recording is allowed in here!” Tiffany ignored him, hiding the phone behind her back. “I’m collecting evidence! What if you guys try to cover for him?” Spike backed her up. “Yeah! We’re putting him on blast! Let the whole world see what this creep looks like!” I stared at their ugly, twisted faces, the rage inside me simmering. Fine. You want to put me on blast? You want to blow this up? Let’s play. I took a deep breath, looked directly into her camera, and didn’t try to stop her. “You’re sure you want to post that online?” I asked. Tiffany scoffed. “What, are you scared now? Should’ve thought about that before you acted like a creep! It’s too late to beg. Unless you transfer two hundred grand right now and get on your knees.” Spike stood by with his arms crossed, enjoying the show. “Listen, kid. If you want to settle this quietly, be smart about it. The money comes through, the video disappears. Otherwise, get ready to be ruined online.” Two hundred thousand dollars. The nerve. If I paid them, I’d be admitting guilt. I’d never clear my name. “Post it,” I said. “Let’s see who chickens out.” Tiffany froze. Spike froze. They probably weren’t used to their targets pushing back this hard. “Fine! You’ve got guts!” Tiffany seethed. “I’m posting it right now! Let’s see how you face the world after this!” Right there, in front of the officer, her fingers flew across her phone’s screen. I didn’t have to see it to know she was crafting a sob story full of lies. The officer looked exhausted. These disputes were always the hardest. No evidence, just two conflicting stories. “Alright!” he said, standing up. “Since mediation has failed, we’ll proceed with a formal investigation. You, hand over your ID for registration.” He held out his hand to me again. This was my moment. My trump card. The second I produced my driver’s license, the little ‘F’ printed under ‘Sex’ would shatter their entire story. I reached into my pocket, my fingers closing around the hard plastic card. Just as I was about to pull it out, my phone rang. It was from the ride-share platform. I answered. A cold, robotic voice came from the other end. “Is this Alex Bell? We’ve received a severe passenger complaint. Your account has been permanently suspended.” “Furthermore, due to the serious damage your actions have caused to our company’s reputation, we reserve the right to pursue legal action.” Not even a chance to defend myself. They’d already passed sentence. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. That’s it? They’ve made up their minds? Tiffany saw the look on my face and smirked triumphantly. “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it? Serves you right!” I ended the call and looked down at the license still hidden in my pocket. Suddenly, I changed my mind. If the platform was going to condemn me without a second thought, if this trashy couple wanted to ruin my life online… Then let’s make this storm a hurricane. If I show them my license now, I’ll be cleared, and they’ll get a slap on the wrist. That’s not enough. That’s letting them off too easy. I’m going to let them climb as high as they can, just so I can watch them fall. I’m going to make them pay. So I pulled my hand from my pocket. It was empty. “My license is in the car. I must have missed it.”

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1 The day my wife was welcomed back by her wealthy family, I was packing my bags. She saw me and frowned. “Leave it. I’m only taking Julian and Mia. You can stay here in the Warrens.” “I’ll give you five hundred a month for expenses,” she added, her voice devoid of warmth. “And I’ll let you see Mia from time to time.” I nodded calmly, without a fight. I already knew. She was always going to choose her childhood sweetheart and take my daughter with them. In my last life, I threw a fit and begged to go with them to the Hawthorne estate. I thought I could finally live a comfortable life. Instead, I was framed for theft by Julian. Then, my own daughter tricked me, luring me to the eighteenth-floor balcony before pushing me off. I remember her red-rimmed eyes as she screamed, her voice raw with hatred. “I don’t want a thief for a father! If you hadn’t insisted on coming, I would have had a better dad by now!” In that moment, a chill colder than death consumed me. Then, I opened my eyes. I was reborn. A text message glowed on my phone’s screen, a notification from a classified national research agency. Mr. Jacob Levy, congratulations. You have been officially recruited. Please be advised: upon entry, all contact with external persons is forbidden for a period of five years. I had two days left. Two days until I could dedicate myself to my country and leave this life behind. But that night, as I hid out in my new rental, the door was kicked open. Isabella Hawthorne stood in the doorway, her white designer suit soaked by the rain, her expression as dark and stormy as the sky. Behind her, holding an umbrella, was Julian. And holding Julian’s hand was my daughter, Mia. Julian’s voice was thick with false indignation. “Jacob, I know you’re upset, but you can’t just steal my mother’s heirloom. That necklace is the only thing I have left of her…” His words struck me like a bolt of lightning, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. I realized with dawning horror that this was exactly how it started last time. My hands trembled as I tried to stop them, but the bodyguards were already tearing my apartment apart. From a hidden pocket inside my suitcase, one of them pulled out a silver necklace. Isabella held it up, her eyes filled with a disgust so potent it felt like it was flaying me alive. My body went cold. I understood everything in that instant. “Impossible…” I whispered. It was Julian. In this life, just like the last, he had laid the perfect trap to make me a pariah in everyone’s eyes. “Caught red-handed,” Isabella’s voice was sharp as glass. “Jacob, for the sake of our marriage, I’ll give you one chance to confess.” Confess? I lifted my head, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. I was so close. Two more days and my life would have been completely different. “I have nothing to confess,” I said, each word a struggle. Her fury blazed hotter. She barked an order to the men at the door. “Then help him remember his place!” Two hulking figures stormed in, grabbing my arms in a vicelike grip. One of them forced my head down, the immense pressure forcing me to bow before Julian. “Kneel and repent!” Isabella’s voice rained down on me from above. I clenched my jaw, resisting with every ounce of strength I had left. “It wasn’t me! Isabella, I won’t do it!” But the bodyguard’s hand was like an iron clamp. He slammed my head against the floor. Crack! A searing pain shot through my forehead as it met the rough concrete. “Apologize,” Isabella commanded. “No…” I gasped. Crack! Another slam, harder this time. I felt a warm trickle of blood run down my face. Mia’s voice, choked with tears, pierced the air. “Daddy, just say you did it! Please, I’m scared…” My daughter’s plea was a knife in my heart. She had no idea that every time she called me “Daddy,” she was carving another piece out of my shattered soul. In my last life, when she pushed me from that rooftop, I died never understanding why the daughter I had adored for ten years would trust a man she barely knew over me. Isabella’s tone was laced with scorn. “See? Even your own daughter is ashamed of you.” Crack! The third blow. My vision began to blur. Blood and sweat mingled, dripping onto the cold floor. Julian made a show of intervening. “Bella, that’s enough… Maybe Jacob was just confused…” “Confused? He’s pathologically stubborn!” The guard grabbed my head again. I used my last bit of strength to look up, my eyes locked on Julian. “I did nothing wrong!” That was the last straw for Isabella. “Still talking back?! Keep going! Don’t stop until he admits what he did!” Just then, Mia rushed forward and kicked my shoulder with all her might. “You’re a thief! You’re not my daddy anymore! I don’t love you!” The kick itself was weak, but it froze me to the core. I stopped struggling. My own daughter. While I was being framed, while my head was being smashed against the floor, she didn’t believe me. She came to add her own blow. So this is what it feels like for a heart to die. Even Isabella seemed taken aback by Mia’s action. She waved a hand, and the bodyguards released me. I collapsed onto the floor, a broken heap, blood flowing freely from my forehead. She walked over to me, rain dripping from the ends of her hair. “Jacob, for Mia’s sake, if you apologize to Julian right now, I’ll let this go.” I looked up, my vision blurred by blood, and stared at her. At the innocent-looking man behind her. And at the daughter who looked at me like I was a stranger. A bloody smile stretched across my lips. “I… did nothing… wrong.” “And I will never apologize to Julian!” I spat the last words out, my gaze fixed on him. Isabella’s face contorted in a mask of rage. “Stubborn fool! Drag him outside! He can kneel in the rain until he’s ready to confess!” I was hauled out into the yard and thrown into the cold, muddy water. The torrential downpour washed over the gash on my forehead, the pain sharp and biting. From behind me, I heard Julian’s gentle voice. “Bella, the rain’s so heavy. Maybe we should let him come inside…” And Mia’s childish question. “Mommy, when is the thief going to say he’s sorry?” Followed by Isabella’s cold reply. “He brought this on himself.” A thief? Brought this on myself? The pain in my body was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. The voices faded as the world dissolved into blackness. The stinging smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils. I drifted back to consciousness, pulled by a wave of excruciating pain. The ceiling above was the sterile white of a hospital. My gaze shifted to find several stone-faced bodyguards in black suits standing around my bed like sentinels. “You’re awake?” a cold voice asked. I slowly turned my head. Isabella stood by my bedside, her face a thundercloud of fury. In her hand was the necklace, but her eyes held no warmth, only judgment and disgust. She held it up. “Jacob, I’m going to ask you one last time. Where did you hide the real heirloom from Julian’s mother? This one… is a fake.” A fake? My pupils constricted. I understood instantly. Julian! That venomous bastard! He used a fake to seal my fate as a thief. Whether I confessed or not, he had another trap waiting. The real necklace was probably long gone, hidden or destroyed. He didn’t just want to ruin my name; he wanted to ensure I could never recover. My throat was parched and raw. “I didn’t take it,” I rasped. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, squeezing the very air from my lungs. Why? Why, even with a second chance, was I still trapped in this nightmare of false accusations? Isabella stared at me, trying to gauge if I was lying. After a moment, the last shred of patience in her eyes vanished, replaced by bitter disappointment and a chilling cruelty. “It seems you won’t talk unless we use more persuasive methods.” She took a step back and gave a cold command to her men. “A thief doesn’t deserve to keep his hands. Since he won’t give it back, break his fingers, one by one. We’re in a hospital. He won’t die.” My eyes widened in disbelief. She was going to… break my fingers? No! She couldn’t! I struggled, but the bodyguards held me down. I couldn’t lose my hands! The National Defense Research Agency! My future! All my hopes of escaping this hell were pinned on those hands—hands meant for delicate instruments and life-changing experiments! Without them, I was finished! “Isabella! You can’t!” I screamed, desperation clawing at my sanity. “I didn’t steal anything! I didn’t—” She just watched, her expression unchanging, as if watching a silent movie that had nothing to do with her. One of the guards grabbed my left hand, his thick fingers closing around my index finger. “NO!” My shriek tore through the silence of the room. SNAP! The sharp crack of bone was followed by a white-hot agony that made my vision go black. I almost passed out from the pain. Pain. Indescribable pain. But it was nothing, not even a fraction of the agony consuming my heart. I looked at the woman I had loved with every fiber of my being for ten years, at her beautiful, merciless profile, and a poisonous vine of hatred began to grow, twisting and choking everything inside me. I hated her. But I hated myself more. How could I have been so blind? How could I have fallen for this cold, cruel woman who couldn’t see the truth right in front of her? To protect her fragile ego, I’d hidden my degrees from a top university, content to play the role of a simple man, letting her believe I was nothing special. Ten years of sacrifice, ten years of my life, all for this. I regretted it. I truly, deeply regretted ever loving her. SNAP! The second finger broke. “Argh!” My body convulsed, and a cold sweat drenched my hospital gown. Isabella stood there, expressionless, but I caught a glimpse of her hand, clenched at her side, her knuckles white. Does it hurt you, Isabella? Does it hurt to watch? Because it’s nothing compared to what you’ve done to me. SNAP! SNAP! The third. The fourth… Pain washed over me in relentless waves, threatening to drown my consciousness. I bit down hard on my lip, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth, but I refused to confess to a crime I didn’t commit. One, two, three… When the four fingers on my left hand were bent at unnatural angles, the guard moved to my right. Despair, cold and absolute, submerged me completely. My future, my dreams, were shattering before my very eyes. SNAP! By the time the ninth finger was broken, I didn’t even have the strength to scream. I lay on the bed like a dying fish, the shallow rise and fall of my chest the only sign I was still alive. Nine of my ten fingers, shattered. My life, shattered along with them. Through it all, I never confessed. Isabella looked at my pathetic state, soaked in blood and tears, at my grotesquely swollen and misshapen hands. Her face went pale for a second. She turned away sharply, her voice catching almost imperceptibly. “Get the doctor. Set his fingers.” With that, she fled the room, never looking back. Doctors and nurses rushed in, their hands trembling as they tended to my wounds, resetting and splinting my broken fingers. The pain was so intense I kept passing out, only to be jolted awake again. In the end, they put an oxygen mask on me just to keep me breathing. I was a broken doll on a cold hospital bed, my consciousness fading in and out. Hate, regret, and despair warred within me, threatening to tear me apart. Why did I ever meet her? Why did I let my life be destroyed by a woman like this? Late that night, the door to my room creaked open. Two figures, one large and one small, slipped silently to my bedside. It was Julian, and my daughter, Mia. My mind was a fog, but I could feel their presence. Julian’s voice was a venomous whisper. “Look at your daddy, Mia. So pathetic. Wouldn’t you rather have me as your new daddy? I’ll buy you all the pretty dresses you want, take you to amusement parks, make you the happiest little princess in the world.” My heart seized. And then I heard the answer that would haunt me for the rest of my life, and the one before it. Mia’s childish voice chirped without a hint of hesitation, full of excitement. “Yes! I want you to be my daddy, Uncle Julian!” In that moment, what was left of my heart turned to ash. Julian chuckled, pleased. “But, Mia, as long as your old daddy is still around, I can’t really be your new one.” He paused, his voice slithering like a snake. “See that mask on his face? He looks like he’s having a hard time breathing. Be a good girl and help him take it off. Then he won’t be in pain anymore, and I can be your daddy forever, okay?” My eyes shot open! Through my blurry vision, I saw Mia’s innocent little face. She looked from Julian to me, and then… she reached out her small hand, reaching for my oxygen mask. “Bad daddy!” she muttered, her voice filled with a programmed hatred. “You’re a thief! I don’t want you anymore!” As her little hand closed around the lifeline that was keeping me alive, as I saw the pure disgust in her eyes, the last ounce of fight left me. My soul was a dead, empty wasteland. So this was it. Even reborn, I couldn’t escape my fate. I was destined to die at their hands. And this time, it was so much more humiliating, so much more hopeless. I felt the tug on the mask, and my breath caught in my chest. I’m dying. And this time, I probably won’t be coming back…

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1 Five years after she cut me out of her life, my sister, a homicide detective, finally got her transfer back to Oakhaven. She came back for one reason: to reopen the case of her childhood sweetheart’s father, murdered all those years ago. And me? I was just a nobody, sorting parts on an assembly line for twenty bucks an hour. When she and her team stormed the factory floor, I kept my head down, my hands moving mechanically, pretending not to see her. I didn’t look up until the cold steel of the cuffs clicked around my wrists. Her eyes were bloodshot with a hatred so pure it burned. “Julian’s father has been dead for five years,” she seethed, her voice shaking. “What gives you the right to live so peacefully?” She yanked me to my feet. “And Mom! She’s been in on this with you, hasn’t she? Hiding from me for five years!” A bitter sting filled my nose, and for a second, the world swam out of focus. She didn’t know. Our mother was buried in the spring of that same year, five years ago. And I had just been clinging to life, a ghost waiting for my own sister to clear my name. But looking at her now, I saw the truth. The sister I had waited five long years for was just another stranger. … Cici’s hands trembled as she cuffed me, the metal biting painfully into my skin. “Andrew,” she said, her voice low and venomous. “I don’t care how you dodged justice back then. This time, I’ll be the one to put you away.” The other workers held their breath, a silent audience to our broken family drama. I just managed a quiet “Okay,” and let her march me to her car. The moment we arrived at the station, Julian lunged at me, his face a mask of grief and rage. “What did my father ever do to you?” he screamed, his fists hammering against my chest. “How could you kill him? I want you to pay with your blood!” He beat me, spat on me, his fury a familiar storm I had weathered countless times before. Just like five years ago. I was used to it. While Cici watched with cold disgust, I met his eyes calmly. “You know exactly what happened that night.” A split second later, a sharp crack exploded against my cheek. My sister’s hand. Her other fist was clenched tight, her brow furrowed in a knot of fury. “Five years and you still haven’t learned? You were holding the knife, Andrew. Julian’s father was bleeding out on the floor. If it wasn’t you, who was it?” She shoved her phone into my chest. “You won’t admit it? Fine. Call Mom right now. I want to hear what kind of monster she’s raised these past five years!” The phone’s hard edge struck my face, and a sharp, clear pain finally lanced through my heart. If it hadn’t been for Julian’s monster of a father, my mother never would have been so violated, so broken that she took her own life. And I wouldn’t have been a helpless kid grabbing the first weapon I could find, a kitchen knife, to make him stop. An act that turned me into a pariah, forced to scrape by on a few thousand a month, waiting for the one person I thought I could trust, my detective sister, to bring justice for my mother and me. I looked at her cold, unforgiving face and knew my hope was dead. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped me. “Mom… she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Cici’s jaw clenched, her eyes threaded with red. Five years had done nothing to soften her hatred for me. It had only let it fester. She dragged me away roughly, ordering an officer to put me in a holding cell. “Still as stubborn as ever, trying to piss me off. Is that it? Then you can sit in here and think it over until you’re ready to talk to me like a human being!” A familiar voice spoke up beside her. “Captain, we don’t have any evidence. We can’t legally hold him like this…” “Shut up! I’ll take the heat for it. He made his bed, now he can lie in it.” Cici glared at me one last time before slamming the cell door. The heavy click of the lock echoed in my chest, throwing me back five years, to the sound of her voice screaming as she shoved my head into a toilet bowl. “What did Julian ever do to you? Why would you do something so twisted, so evil? How the hell did I end up with a brother like you!” I had closed my eyes then, thinking it would be easier to just let the water fill my lungs. But I couldn’t. What would happen to Mom? She’d escaped with a permanently injured leg. She only had me. So I fought back, thrashing free from my sister’s grip, choking out the words. “That animal deserved to die! It was self-defense!” For five years, I’d held onto the fantasy that my sister, the police officer, would eventually see the truth and stand with us. It was that hope that kept me alive, like a stray dog, even as a deep depression took root in my soul. But now, that was over. At least I wasn’t waiting for a miracle anymore, just for my next twenty-dollar-an-hour paycheck to keep myself breathing. I finally found the courage to make the call. I dialed my psychiatrist. “I need you to help me arrange for the procedure. Euthanasia. As soon as possible.” “…But the case wasn’t your fault, Andrew,” he said gently. “Are you still so determined not to forgive yourself?” My hand tightened on the phone, my heart feeling like it was being crushed into pulp. Back then, my own sister, who should have been recused as a family member, stood up in court and testified against me. “My brother made a mistake, and as his sister, I have to take responsibility. Letting him off easy will only destroy him!” She appealed the court’s decision again and again, painting me as a vicious killer in the public eye. That’s when the depression hit. The night Mom hanged herself, I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. In a last, foggy moment of panic, I called my sister, begging for help. Her voice had been like ice. “If you’re going to die, then just die. Don’t call me looking for pity.” I buried our mother alone. I cried until I had no tears left. Every year after that, on the anniversary of her death, I couldn’t stop myself from calling the sister who had disowned me. But she was always busy. Taking Julian to a doctor’s appointment, buying him fireworks, renting a yacht to cheer him up. “Julian lost his father because of you,” she’d once snapped. “I’m atoning for your sins. Don’t be so ungrateful!” After that, she officially cut all ties, legally dissolving our relationship as siblings. But a part of me, the little boy I used to be, still dreamed that one day she would believe me. That she would put her hand on my head and tell me I had been brave. So I took the factory job. The pay was garbage, but they didn’t care about my depression. After three days in the holding cell, the call I was dreading came. My boss sounded apologetic. “Look, kid, my hands are tied. If you’re really in some kind of legal trouble, it could sink my whole business.” My mind went blank. The money for Mom’s burial plot, the money for the euthanasia procedure… it all depended on that job. My composure finally shattered. I started rattling the bars of the cell, screaming. “Cici! Please, let me out! I have to get to work! I can’t lose this job!” When she finally appeared, her face a mask of annoyance, the panic attack was already closing in, squeezing the air from my lungs. “Wow, your acting has really improved over the years,” she said with a sneer. “You can even fake a panic attack now? The only one who’s really depressed is Julian!” She leaned closer. “And don’t call me your sister. The word makes me sick.” Each word was a punch to the gut, stealing my breath. I forced myself to change my address. “De… Detective,” I gasped. “You can’t just… lock me up like this. I’m innocent.” Cici’s expression darkened, her brow knitting together. “You’re unbelievable, Andrew.” Just then, her phone rang. Julian’s soft, pleading voice drifted from the speaker. “Cici, you promised you’d take me to that new gallery opening. When are you coming to get me?” Her face and tone softened instantly. “I’m on my way.” As she turned to leave, another call came in, this time on my cheap burner phone. It was the administrator from the cemetery. “Mr. Hayes? If this month’s maintenance fee isn’t paid soon, we’ll have no choice but to remove the ashes from the niche.” The world dropped out from under me. My legs gave way, and I collapsed. Cici, already halfway out the door, stopped and spun around, her eyes wide with confusion. “Ashes? Whose ashes?” When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. A second later, Cici’s anxious face swam into my vision. “The cemetery said the deceased’s last name was Lynn. Who is it? Just tell me, Andrew. I’ll believe you.” For a heart-stopping moment, I wanted to scream it at her. Our mother. Our mother took her own life five years ago because she couldn’t live with the shame. She’s gone. I remembered holding her cold hand as she was dying, her last words a whisper for her daughter. “Cici… make that bastard pay.” I had choked back my own tears to promise her. “Cici will get him, Mom. She’s the best detective in the world. She’ll get justice for you.” But the words died on my lips, replaced by a bitter smile. “I don’t know. A distant relative, maybe.” Almost every time I went to visit Mom’s grave, I’d see Cici there with Julian, laying flowers on his father’s tomb. She would hold him as he wept, offering him the comfort and warmth she had always denied me. I would watch from a distance, hidden behind other gravestones, a toxic mix of envy and hatred churning in my gut. Seeing the stubborn set of my jaw, Cici’s face hardened. “Only Mom could ever handle you when you get like this,” she snapped. “Maybe a couple of years in prison will finally teach you some humility!” With that, she took another call and stormed out of the room. I glanced at the calendar on the wall. Today was the anniversary of Mom’s death. Which meant it was also the anniversary of the death of Julian’s father. Of course. She was rushing off to be with him. Dragging my weak body out of bed, I did what I had done for the past five years. I bought a bouquet of sunflowers, Mom’s favorite, and went to the cemetery alone. I’d barely made it through the gates when Julian charged at me like a wild animal. “You have the nerve to show your face here? Today of all days? Are you doing this on purpose?” His nails raked across my face, leaving burning trails of pain. I clenched my fists, fighting to stay calm. “Get off me,” I said through gritted teeth. Julian’s face twisted. “Cici!” he wailed. She was there in an instant. Without asking a single question, she shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the ground. “Are you insane, Andrew? Julian is grieving! Why would you come here just to provoke him?” The sunflowers scattered across the grass. I scrambled to gather them, a desperate grief clawing at me. A moment later, an expensive leather shoe pressed down hard on the back of my hand. I hissed in pain, snatching my hand back as involuntary tears streamed down my face. “It’s a day of mourning, Andrew, and you bring these bright, cheerful flowers?” Cici’s voice was dangerously low as she stared down at me, not a flicker of remorse in her eyes. “Are you trying to mock us?” She had really forgotten. Every year on her birthday, Mom would buy herself a bouquet of sunflowers. “I want you and your sister to grow up strong and bright like these,” she used to say. “And I’ll always be your sun.” Now, the only person in Cici’s heart was the son of the man who had destroyed our sun forever. I ignored the pain and reached for the crushed petals with my bloodied hand. For a second, Cici froze, her breath catching. But then Julian pulled a knife from his bag and pressed it to his own throat. “It’s all my fault! I couldn’t protect my dad! You two can have your happy reunion. I’m going to be with him!” “No!” Cici cried, her face pale with panic. She didn’t dare move. Then, her eyes, cold and hard, fixed on me. She spoke through clenched teeth. “What are you waiting for? Get on your knees and apologize to Julian’s father. Now!” A roaring filled my ears. “You don’t deserve to be my sister!” I screamed, my voice raw and cracking. She didn’t even flinch. She just kicked the back of my knee, hard. The joint buckled with a fiery agony, and I collapsed onto the ground in front of Mr. Vance’s tombstone. “Apologize!” Before I could answer, a group of people visiting a nearby grave recognized me. Phones came out, cameras pointing. “That’s him! The murderer from that case years ago! What is he even doing here?” “He’s probably up to no good. Someone should call the cops and have him locked up for good!” The crowd buzzed, their whispers loud and sharp. How could a decorated detective captain have a killer for a brother? The shame on Cici’s face was unmistakable. Having me for a brother was an embarrassment. “Is it that hard to say you’re sorry?” she demanded. I just stared back, my eyes burning. Seeing my defiance, Julian started sobbing louder, nicking his own skin with the knife. That was it. Cici lost her patience. She snatched a thick stick from a groundskeeper’s cart and brought it down hard across my legs. The pain was blinding, a white-hot agony that felt like my bones were splitting. “Aaargh!” A bucket of red paint came next, dumped over my head, the thick liquid blinding me. Humiliation and pain washed over me in a suffocating wave. My mouth filled with the taste of blood, and a wild, crazed laugh bubbled up from my chest. “You’re not my sister anymore! And you will never see Mom again!” Her head snapped up. “Don’t you dare say that! You and Mom are only giving me the silent treatment because you want me to come home! You don’t have to be so stubborn about it!” She shot a look at the crowd, and they understood. Hands grabbed my head, forcing it down, slamming my forehead against the cold stone of the grave three times. Murderer. You deserve to die. The curses swirled around me, but nothing was more humiliating than this. Being forced to bow to the man who had destroyed my life. Through the red haze, I saw Julian, hiding behind Cici, a triumphant smirk on his face. It was like they were acting on her command, a frenzied mob venting their rage. They stomped on my hands, and I heard the sickening snap of my own fingers. A raw, piercing scream tore from my throat, echoing across the hillside. When I was barely conscious, Cici finally raised a hand. “That’s enough. I’ll be putting him in prison myself soon enough. Someone call an ambulance.” I was left on the ground like a piece of trash. Through my blurred vision, I thought I saw a flicker of something, maybe regret, in her eyes. When the ambulance arrived, it wasn’t a paramedic who stepped out, but my psychiatrist. With the last of my strength, I begged him. “No more waiting. Schedule it for today. Please.” … Cici stood frozen, watching the ambulance disappear down the winding road, a sour feeling churning in her stomach. Just then, a group of cemetery workers walked past, carrying a tombstone. She glanced at it, then felt a strange premonition. “Why are you moving that one?” she asked. A worker sighed. “The man’s son couldn’t afford the upkeep fees anymore. We have to move it to the public repository.” The name and photograph on the granite slab flashed past her eyes. Cici’s world tilted, her breath catching in her throat…

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The night before our engagement party, my superstar girlfriend, Stella Wright, lost a race on a celebrity reality show. The forfeit was to play a “couple for a day” with her childhood best friend. Except she decided to make it real, exchanging rings with him right there on camera. When I called, Stella just laughed it off. “It was just for the show, Ethan. Leo and I have been inseparable since we were kids. You know it’s not like that.” Her best friend, Leo Ashford, slung an arm around her shoulder and flashed the ring on his finger for the camera. “Hey, Stella’s first ‘proposal’ was to me. Doesn’t that deserve some kind of celebration?” The rest of their crew, all friends since childhood, started cheering him on. “Come on, none of us have ever beaten Stella on the track. She totally let Leo win for the show. If Leo can beat me, I’ll give him anything he wants!” The energy was electric. I walked out from the garage, holding my helmet. Their chatter died down as all eyes fell on me. The air grew cold. I pulled the helmet on and looked at Stella, whose face was a mask of disapproval. “What are you all looking at me for?” I said, my voice muffled slightly. “You wanted a celebration, right? As the fiancé, it’s only right that I add to the festivities.” 1 I put on the helmet and swung my leg over the brand-new motorcycle. Stella’s brow furrowed. She rushed over, her hand clamping down on mine just as I was about to hit the ignition. “Ethan, don’t. It’s Leo’s birthday, everyone’s just messing around with him. Racing isn’t a joke. What if something happens to you?” She softened her voice, that condescending tone she always used. “Be a good boy and just cheer for me from the sidelines.” It was always like this. No matter what game they were playing, my role was to be the cheerleader. I subtly pulled my hand free. Looking into her soulful eyes, the ones that could show affection to a stray dog, I contradicted her for the first time. “I’m not on cheerleading duty for you tonight. Look.” I tilted my chin toward Leo. “Your official boyfriend for the day is over there. Let him cheer you on.” A few people snickered that I was jealous and told Stella to smooth things over. A flash of irritation crossed her face. “I’m worried about you, Ethan. You’ve never even touched a bike like this. I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.” She lowered her voice. “We all grew up with Leo. Ask anyone here, they all know I practically see him as one of the girls.” The looks from their friends turned sly and knowing. This wasn’t the first time. They had all grown up together in the same wealthy neighborhood, their families all connected. Whenever the seven of them got together, they created a bubble with Leo at the center, a world no one else could enter. Because she saw him as “one of the girls,” she could get drunk and crash in the same bed with him. Because he was her “bestie,” she could be called away in the middle of our dates to help him pick out furniture for his new apartment. Because he was “family,” she could ditch me on our anniversary to go bar-hopping with him when he was in a bad mood. I had fought with her about it before, but it always ended the same way. The last time, she’d even thrown this at me: “We’ve always been this close. Are you going to accuse the other guys of sleeping with him, too?” After that, I never brought up Leo again. Until now. Only this time, I wasn’t looking for a fight. Leo strolled over, casually draping his arm over Stella’s shoulders, a smug grin on his face. “She’s right, Ethan. This is how we’ve always been, long before you came along. They really don’t see me as a guy. If I wanted to make a move on any of them, it would’ve happened years ago.” “You didn’t grow up in our crew, you wouldn’t get it. Just listen to your girlfriend. We’ll have our fun, then we’ll send her back to you.” No one in their circle saw anything wrong with his words. Stella’s eyes were filled with disapproval for my ‘unreasonable’ behavior. I fought down the wave of nausea rising in my throat and revved the engine. Over the roar, I met Leo’s gaze and said coldly, “Since it’s a birthday celebration, wouldn’t adding me to the mix make it more exciting?” “Let’s play by your rules. If you beat me, you can ask for any gift you want.” Seeing me defy her, Stella’s face hardened. One of their friends nudged another, smirking. “Uh-oh, looks like Stella’s losing her touch. Can’t keep her man in line!” The warmth vanished completely from Stella’s expression. Her eyes turned to ice. “Ethan Cole.” She used my full name. “You really want to do this? Fine. But don’t come crying to me for help when you lose.” I just scoffed. Leo saw my expression and raised an eyebrow. “Well, well, looks like I have a lot of challengers today. How about this: we’ll do a king-of-the-hill tournament. You have to beat everyone else who wants a shot before you get to race me.” He pointed at the big guy who had started the taunting. “Chris, I know you’re good. If you let him win… I’ll double your gift.” Chris stepped forward, playing the peacemaker. “Hey, Ethan, man… it’s Leo’s birthday, so he makes the rules. Maybe we should just let it go? This bike’s a beast, it’s not easy to handle.” “I’ll cover the double prize money myself!” someone shouted. The others hooted. “The double should come from Stella! Why are you paying? You got a crush on your future brother-in-law or something? Playing the hero for him?” Chris flushed beet red. Stella shot me a glance, then laughed and patted Leo’s arm. “The night’s not over yet. Your ‘brother-in-law’ is right here.” Leo hopped onto the seat behind Stella, wrapping his arms intimately around her waist. A chorus of whistles erupted. I was used to it. I gunned the engine and pulled down my visor. “Enough talk. Let’s start.” 2 The wind howled past my helmet. I could hear gasps of surprise from the starting line. No one had expected me to actually know how to ride, let alone be good at it. I took corner after corner with precision, steadily widening the gap between me and Chris. I glanced over my shoulder. Stella was watching, a look of pure astonishment on her face. I ignored the shouts from the sidelines and focused. On the final turn, I calculated my entry line, preparing to accelerate on the exit. Just then, a blindingly bright light shot out from the side of the track, aimed directly at my face. Leo was holding a high-powered flashlight, waving it frantically at me. My vision was blasted with white. I cursed under my breath, instinctively slamming on the brakes while trying to keep the bike balanced. But I was going too fast. The front wheel skidded in the apex of the turn. The bike went into an uncontrolled slide, the screech of rubber against asphalt tearing through the air. I fought to control it with everything I had, my knee and elbow scraping against the track, a raw, burning pain exploding through my limbs. Chris shot past me and crossed the finish line. I managed to right the bike and haul myself to my feet, the pain in my joints spreading like fire. I took off my helmet and stared coldly at Leo. He tossed the flashlight aside and ran over. “Oh, man! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I just got so excited seeing you ride like that, I wanted to celebrate, I didn’t think… you’d lose control.” Stella hurried over, her brow knitted in a tight frown. “If you can’t handle it, you shouldn’t have been out here. You got what you deserved.” Chris circled back, clearing his throat. “Ethan, man… I’m calling that race for you. Seriously, skill-wise, you’re way better than me.” I tried to smile, but it pulled at the cut on my lip. The peanut gallery started up again. “What’s with you today, Chris? Sticking up for Ethan all of a sudden?” “Yeah, Stella’s about to get married. A little late to be making a move, isn’t it?” Chris didn’t answer. There was no good way to. I waved a hand dismissively. “A loss is a loss. It’s fine.” I looked at Leo, my voice flat. “What do you want?” His eyes went to the chain around my neck. Stella had put it on me the day we made our relationship official. It was a unique silver gear with a diamond spinning freely inside it. She said it symbolized that our lives were interlocked, our love unbreakable. I had worn it for three years without ever taking it off. I reached up, unclasped it, and tossed it to him. He caught it, dangling it from his fingers. Stella’s face fell. “Leo, that’s…” He tilted his head, looking at her strained expression. “What’s wrong, Stella? Ethan’s willing to part with it. Are you saying you’re not?” Her throat worked. Finally, she looked away. “…If you like it, you can have it.” Leo smiled triumphantly, turning his back to her. “Put it on me.” While Stella was fastening the necklace around Leo’s neck, a few of the other guys came over, eager for a turn. “Wow, the brother-in-law’s got hidden talents! I want a shot!” “Me too!” But Leo held up a hand, his eyes twinkling as he looked at me. “Hold on. Ethan’s so good, we need to agree on the stakes beforehand. We can’t have people thinking we’re ganging up on him.” His gaze roamed over me, and then his eyes lit up. “I remember, your marriage vows were handwritten by your grandfather, the famous artist. You know how rare his work is. Why don’t we bet on that?” The moment he said it, the chatter stopped. Everyone looked at him with varying expressions. He gave me a carefree smile. “Let’s make that the prize, what do you say? If you win, you can have… whatever. If I win, you let me borrow the vows to admire them. Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal them from you…” He paused, shooting a meaningful glance at Stella. Her breath hitched. She spoke in a low, placating tone. “Leo, there’s a limit to the games.” I laughed coldly. She knew he was going too far. But she always, always let him get away with it. That document was one of my grandfather’s last works, the only thing he left me. It was his blessing for Stella and me to have a hundred years of happiness together. Leo wasn’t afraid of her. He stuck his chin out. “What are you so nervous about? I can’t even look at it? If you’re that stingy, I might just have to tell everyone about the time you—” Stella clapped a hand over his mouth, the tips of her ears turning red. She turned to me, her voice pleading. “Ethan, why don’t you just let him see it? Then we can call it a night. No more racing.” Of course. Between them, Stella was always the one to back down. I looked at their intimate pose, the pain in my elbow and knee a dull throb. Inside, I just felt hollow. I nodded. “Fine.” Stella let out a breath of relief. Then I added, “If I lose, the vows are yours.” 3 Someone gasped. They all stared at me in shock. Everyone here knew how much that document meant to Stella. She had personally begged my grandfather for it. The sandalwood box it was kept in, she had carved it herself. She spent over six months engraving a line from a poem that my name came from. And when I received it, I treasured it. I kept it by my bed, the wood polished smooth from how often I held it. Their confusion grew. Only Leo looked more and more excited. “Alright,” he said. “You’re on!” The second race began. Every turn sent a searing pain through my knee. Sweat dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision. For a split second, I lost focus, entering a turn a fraction too late. The tires screamed. My opponent was already across the finish line. I had someone bring the sandalwood box from my bedside table. Stella’s face was stone. I took the box I had touched a million times and handed it to Leo. He took it and immediately flipped it open. Just then, a gust of wind swept across the track. It caught the red paper and lifted it into the air, sending it tumbling away from the raceway. Stella instinctively reached for it, but her hand closed on empty air. The marriage vow, caught by the wind, disappeared into the night. Everyone was stunned. Leo pouted. “Whoops. Who knew the wind would pick up right then? You can’t blame me. It’s just a piece of paper, anyway. You two are getting married soon, it doesn’t matter if you have it or not.” Stella slowly lowered her outstretched hand, clenching it into a fist. The tension in her face eased, as if she’d been convinced. Watching her, I felt a suffocating pressure in my chest. I remembered the day she went to my family home and knelt before my grandfather, begging him to write those vows for us. I suddenly realized how stupid I had been. I had mistaken her tolerance for commitment, her favoritism for loyalty. Everyone thought I would call a stop to the games. Leo’s tone was challenging. “Ethan, the first two rounds were just for fun. Not exciting enough. Let’s play for real stakes.” “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” I curved my lips into a smile. “The night is young. Let’s continue.” He pointed at Stella. “I want the ten percent stake in her company that she gave you.” That was Stella’s engagement gift to me. Now, even the other five realized what was happening. Leo was targeting me directly. “Leo, that’s going a little too far.” “Yeah, man, it’s all fun and games, but don’t mess with the real stuff.” Leo hugged Stella, swaying slightly. “Hey, it’s my birthday! Don’t you guys start taking his side.” He looked up at Stella. “Stella, I’m just testing him for you. I keep seeing these stories online about guys from nothing who marry rich… gold diggers, you know? They use all sorts of tricks to get ahead, just to scam money.” “If your love is as strong as you say it is, then I’ll admit I was out of line today. I’ll even apologize to him. How about that?” Stella looked down at him and said nothing. I looked at Leo. “And if you lose?” He tilted his chin up dismissively. “That villa I own on Cloudview Peak, the one Stella gave me for my birthday last year. If I lose, it’s yours.” The third race began. The pain made every move difficult, but a raw determination pushed me on. I twisted the throttle all the way, the bike screaming down the track, neck and neck with my opponent. The final turn. I gritted my teeth. And pushed across the line. We crossed at the exact same time. A tie. I was panting, sweat and blood sticking to my clothes. I collapsed onto the handlebars, completely spent. Leo walked over. “Well, a draw. Looks like your luck ran out. You look pretty beat. Maybe we should just… call it?” I lifted my head, looking at him through my visor. “We agreed on best three out of five. I haven’t lost yet.” Everyone heard me and thought I was just being stubborn, trying to one-up Leo. I slowly pointed at Stella. “This time, I’m racing her.” 4 “Ethan, what are you talking about?” “Stella, you’re on his team, aren’t you? Isn’t it weird for me to race you?” She looked at me like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “Stop messing around. You’re in no condition to race. Be good, let’s…” I cut her off. “Scared?” “Ethan Cole, trying to provoke me won’t work. What are the terms?” “Just this one race. If I win, you have to agree to one condition, no questions asked. Everyone here is a witness. If you go back on your word, or fail to deliver…” I paused. “All of your shares in the Wright Corporation will be transferred to me, free of charge.” The bet was bigger and more brutal than all the previous ones combined. “Ethan, are you crazy? On what grounds do you—” Leo started. I ignored him, my eyes fixed on Stella. “And if I lose… I’ll give you to him. How about that?” Stella’s pupils contracted. The others started whispering. “Wow, even a cornered rabbit will bite. He must be really pissed about the ‘proposal’ thing earlier.” As they talked, a look of understanding dawned on Stella’s face. “Fine. I’ll race you.” Two motorcycles shot off the starting line. Stella’s skill was undeniable. But she was holding back, just toying with me. I knew she was waiting for me to break, waiting for me to beg her to let me win, just like I used to. I stayed glued to her tailpipe. I was going to risk it all. She saw my intention and flashed her lights, signaling for me to stop. But I didn’t slow down. She actually eased off the throttle, intending to let me pass. Just then, Leo’s figure appeared on the track. He was standing on the inside of the curve, dangerously close to my racing line. Stella saw him too. If she wanted to let me win, she would have to avoid me on this turn, which meant she would hit Leo. He was forcing her to choose between us. I saw her body tense. Almost instinctively, she prepared to accelerate, to pass me before the turn and shield Leo from harm. Once again, she chose him. The moment her bike shifted, I didn’t hesitate. I twisted the throttle to its limit. The bike tilted, squeezing into the impossibly tight angle between the mountainside and her motorcycle. Sparks scraped from the asphalt. Shattered rock sprayed against my visor, completely blocking my vision. Twenty meters to go. I pushed forward, reckless. And crossed the line. I won. The bike skidded for a long way before I managed to stop. Stella’s bike stopped too. The first thing she did was run to Leo, her voice filled with fear. “Leo! What were you doing on the track? That was so dangerous!” He clutched his chest. “I was worried about you… Who knew he would be so insane…” I propped myself up on the bike and painfully removed my helmet. Only then did Stella look at me, her expression complicated. “You won. You didn’t have to push yourself that hard. I know what you want me to promise.” “I’ll keep my distance from Leo. But he’s been my brother for over twenty years. That bond is a part of who we are. I can’t just cut it out completely.” “If you could just be a little more understanding, we could…” Leo interrupted her, annoyed. “Stella, we’re family! Are you really going to choose him over me? Don’t you remember what you promised me?” “It’s my birthday! Are you trying to ruin it for me?” The last part was clearly directed at me. I ignored his taunts and slowly turned to Stella with a smile. “My one condition is—”

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The day our son was born, my husband, the judge, asked for separate beds. “I won’t divorce you,” he said. “Our son deserves a complete childhood. But don’t expect anything more.” From then on, his touch became a memory. Even if I fell in front of him, he wouldn’t steady me. For ten years, we were never seen kissing or holding hands. When rumors surfaced, he’d simply state, “Intimacy is private.” Online, he was praised as disciplined and respectful. Only I knew the hollow loneliness of a decade in an empty bed. Everything shattered when our son, Leo, was bullied at school—brain hemorrhage, broken rib, rushed to the ICU. But Judge Will Keery didn’t sue or demand a hearing. He hid behind impartiality, delaying again and again. Heartbroken, I rushed home and overheard him talking to a friend: “Will, if Clara finds out you’re stalling because the boy who hurt Leo is your old flame’s son, she’ll divorce you.” “She’ll never know.” That sentence was ice through my heart. It was never about justice. The scales in his heart had tipped long ago—and not in my favor 1 A summer heatwave was scorching the city, but a sudden chill ran down my spine. From the study, Will’s voice was unnervingly calm. “And even if she did find out,” he added, “she wouldn’t dare.” He was right. Ever since Leo was born, I’d lived like a widow, never once uttering the word ‘divorce.’ He saw my silence not as endurance, but as proof. Proof that I loved him too much to ever leave. His friend chuckled. “Man, I still can’t believe it, Will. It’s been how long since high school? And you’re still hung up on that little rebel, Zoe.” “Well, she was the only stain on your perfect student record, wasn’t she?” the friend continued, his voice thick with nostalgia. “I still remember when you two got caught fooling around in the teacher’s lounge. The principal called you out in front of the whole school, and she just looks at you and asks, ‘So, how’d my lipstick taste?’ God, that was classic!” The sound of his laughter echoed through the door, and the color drained from my face. Fooling around? That was a phrase I could never associate with Will, a man who seemed the very picture of judicial restraint, a paragon of virtue. The thought of him, the same man who would disinfect his hands with alcohol if our fingers accidentally brushed, sneaking around with another woman, their bodies pressed together in the hidden corners of a high school… A wave of revulsion, so potent it was almost physical, clawed its way up my throat. I bolted to the bathroom, retching over the toilet until only bitter bile came up. I hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept since the incident with Leo, my days a frantic blur between the police station and government offices. And Will? Leo’s own father? He had the time to sit here, reminiscing with a friend about his wild high school days. It was laughable. Utterly, painfully laughable. When I emerged from the bathroom, the friend was gone. Will was alone in his study. His eyes scanned my swollen eyelids and pale cheeks. He pursed his lips. “The existing evidence is inconclusive. The hearing has to be postponed. Getting worked up won’t change anything.” The same excuse. Always the same excuse. My hands clenched into fists, a cold dread seeping into my bones. If I hadn’t overheard them, I’d still be in the dark, still believing his lies. I took a step forward, pausing at the threshold of the study. “Will, what will it take for you to schedule the hearing?” He frowned, preparing another excuse. But before he could speak, I let out a soft, sharp laugh. “If you file the motion for a hearing… I’ll give you a divorce.” For a moment, he seemed stunned, as if the sudden joy of the offer had short-circuited his brain. Then, just as quickly, his expression darkened, his face hardening into a mask of cold fury. “Clara, if every family member of a law enforcement official used threats and emotional blackmail to serve their own interests, what would be left of justice in this world?” His voice was low, cutting. “Leo gets into trouble at school because he’s inherited your selfish, manipulative nature.” I froze, the words hitting me like a physical blow. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He was the one abusing his power to protect his ex-lover’s son. And now, he was blaming me? Blaming our child? I lunged forward to argue, to scream, but he was faster. With a sharp, definitive crack, he slammed the study door in my face. The sound echoed in the silent house, a final, brutal judgment. I stumbled downstairs in a daze. My phone rang. It was Leo’s lawyer. Like the one before him, his voice was hesitant, full of apologies. “Mrs. Keery, I’m so sorry, but I can’t take your case. I suggest you find someone else…” My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles were white. A metallic taste filled my mouth. “Mr. Davies, did someone from… on high… have a word with you?” “Mrs. Keery, please don’t ask me any more questions.” He hung up quickly, but I didn’t need an explanation. In this city’s legal circles, there was only one person with enough influence to make a top lawyer from a prestigious firm back away from a case. Will. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I called Mr. Davies back. “Mr. Davies,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “You won’t take the criminal case, I understand. But surely you can handle a civil one?” “I’d like to hire you,” I continued, “to file my divorce papers.” 2 At the hospital, I went straight to Leo’s room. He was out of immediate danger, but he was still wrapped in thick bandages, his cheeks hollowed out. He looked as fragile as a piece of paper. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, but then he reflexively glanced behind me. His face fell. “Mommy, did Daddy not come again?” “Leo, sweetie, Daddy is… he’s still collecting evidence. He’s going to make sure the bad people get punished,” I choked out, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth as my own heart fractured. Just then, a sickly-sweet voice called from the doorway. “Leo’s mom.” I spun around. It was Zoe. She was holding a basket of bruised, overripe fruit and a bouquet of white chrysanthemums—the kind you bring to a funeral. Standing beside her, smirking, was the boy who had hurt my son, Cody. They swaggered into the room as if they owned it. “So glad I finally caught you,” Zoe said with a practiced smile. “Have you had a chance to think about the settlement I mentioned?” Her son shot Leo a middle finger, his expression dripping with arrogance. Leo flinched, his bright, innocent eyes instantly clouding with fear. I moved to stand between them, my voice a low growl. “Get out. Get out now!” Zoe feigned a placating tone. “Clara, let’s not get emotional. It was just a bit of roughhousing between kids. There’s no need to blow it all out of proportion.” My vision went red. “Roughhousing? My son had a broken rib and a brain hemorrhage! He was in the ICU! And you call that roughhousing?” Zoe’s smile faltered for a second. I sneered. “You want a settlement? Fine. Let your son have a broken rib, too…” Before I could finish, Zoe snatched her son into a protective embrace, glaring at me. The boy, feeling bold, puffed out his chest. “Mom, Judge Keery said we don’t have to be scared of her! He said he’d protect us!” Hearing Will’s name from that boy’s lips was the final straw. My control snapped. I lunged forward and slapped the smirk clean off his face. A piercing wail filled the room. “You hit my son! You’re dead!” Zoe shrieked, her facade crumbling into rage. She grabbed a fistful of my hair, her other hand slapping my face again and again. My body, weak from days of stress and sleepless nights, gave out. Stars exploded behind my eyes as I sank to my knees, taking the brutal, repeated blows. On the bed, Leo was screaming, sobbing hysterically. “Stop it! Don’t hit my mommy! Mommy!” The violent thrashing tore at his wounds, and fresh blood began to seep through his clean white bandages. By the time the police arrived, Zoe was perfectly fine, save for a few stray hairs. I was a wreck—my face bruised and swollen, my clothes torn, every breath a sharp, searing pain. At the station, I insisted on a medical examination. I wanted to press charges. But suddenly, the officers’ attitudes changed. They declared Zoe had acted in self-defense, protecting her child, and demanded that I apologize to them both. I shot to my feet, the handcuffs rattling against the metal table. But then I saw it—the officer, holding his phone, speaking with a reverence I knew all too well. My strength evaporated, and I collapsed back into the chair. Will. It was Will again. He couldn’t bear to let his old flame suffer even the slightest inconvenience. A lump of cotton formed in my throat, choking me. I refused to apologize. They held me in a small, dark room for three days. Every second of those three days was an agonizing eternity. In the darkness, my mind drifted back ten years, to a drunken night that changed everything. I’d gotten pregnant by accident. Will had told me to have the child, promised he would marry me, that he’d take care of us. I thought my secret crush had blossomed into a real-life fairy tale. It was all just a beautiful lie. Three days later, I walked out of that station, disheveled and hollowed out. I went straight to the hospital. But the private, top-tier room where Leo had been was now occupied by an elderly woman I didn’t recognize. I found Leo in a crowded general ward. He threw himself into my arms, his body trembling with sobs. “Mommy, Daddy said I was bad at school, that I started the fight, and that’s why I got hurt. But I didn’t, Mommy! I was good…” His cries were like tiny, barbed hooks tearing at my heart. I swallowed the blood that had pooled in my mouth. After comforting him, I stormed out of the ward, my anger a burning inferno. As I passed the private room, a familiar silhouette stopped me cold.

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Dr. Harry Buono was one of the best psychotherapists in the world. While giving a lecture abroad, he met a patient unlike any other: Zoe, a woman suffering from emotional alexithymia, the inability to perceive or express emotion. The case fascinated Harry. He brought her back to the States, keeping her close for intensive therapy. As his wife, I felt a small, sharp knot of jealousy. Harry, ever perceptive, noticed my unease. He’d wrap an arm around me, his voice a low, reassuring murmur. “She’s just a patient, Chelsea. I promise. The moment she’s better, she’s on a plane back home.” I chose to believe him. And so I watched, day by day, as he devoted himself to Zoe. He cared for her, worried over her, celebrated her smallest breakthroughs. And with every passing day, I told myself it would be over soon, that Harry would come back to me. Until the day I discovered I had depression. 1 The first time it happened was at a college reunion. Everyone was catching up, sharing stories of their lives, when someone inevitably brought up Harry. “Harry’s practically a celebrity now! We were all hoping to see him tonight. Why didn’t he come with you, Chelsea?” My smile felt brittle, stretched too thin across my face. “He’s swamped with work. Next time, I’ll drag him along.” They took the hint and changed the subject. Beneath the table, my fingers twisted the fabric of my dress, a familiar ache blooming in my chest. Why wasn’t Harry here? Because he was with Zoe. When he’d called me that afternoon, his voice was electric with excitement. “Chelsea, you won’t believe it! Zoe hugged me today! The therapy—it’s working!” So, naturally, he couldn’t leave her side for a single moment. And all I could do was force a smile into my voice and congratulate him, even as the image of another woman embracing my husband sent a shard of ice through my heart. It was an agony I couldn’t name. Harry and I had been everything to each other since childhood. When my parents died, he was the only one who held me, the only one who could quiet the storm inside me. He was my anchor in this world. After the party, I drove home to a house filled with an aching emptiness. The man who used to wait up for me, no matter how late, was now at another woman’s side. A strange, hollow feeling washed over me. The loss was so sudden, so profound, that it felt as if a switch had been flipped inside me. My strength evaporated, my legs buckled, and I crumpled to the floor. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. Every sensation, every emotion, was amplified to an unbearable degree. A deep, aching pain that started in my chest radiated outwards, a cold fire spreading through my veins. I clutched my head, trying to fight the suffocating pressure, but it was useless. “Woof!” A sharp bark pierced through the fog, pulling me back to the surface. It was Waffles, the golden retriever my parents had left me, the last living piece of them I had. He bounded into my arms, tail wagging, and began to lick the salty tears from my cheeks. I buried my face in his soft fur, my sobs slowly quieting. After years of being married to Harry, I’d absorbed enough by osmosis to recognize the textbook symptoms of a major depressive episode. The realization sent a jolt of fear through me. I fumbled for my phone and dialed Harry. It rang for a long time before he picked up. “Chelsea? You’re home?” I opened my mouth to tell him what had just happened, but another voice cut through the line, faint but clear. “Harry, how long does the pasta need to boil? I’ve never made your spicy tomato pasta before; I don’t want to mess it up.” The words caught in my throat. Spicy tomato pasta. Our dish. We used to spend hours in the kitchen making it together. He’d knead the fresh dough while I perfected the sauce. Those were the moments I felt happiest, the moments I felt most loved. And now, he was teaching her how to make it. “Chelsea? Are you there?” My grip on the phone tightened. I couldn’t speak. “You must be tired,” he said, completely oblivious. “Look, I’m in the middle of something here. If you need anything, just call Miles, okay?” He hung up before I could answer. 2 I stood frozen, the phone still pressed to my ear, the dial tone a shrill, mocking sound. A thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I forced myself to move. I had to know what was happening to me. I drove to the clinic. Miles, Harry’s protégé and our friend, ran a few simple diagnostic tests. When he looked up, his face was grim. “Chelsea… you have clinical depression, and it’s not a mild case.” My heart sank. I had expected it, but hearing the words out loud was terrifying. “How… how did this happen?” Miles looked just as baffled. “I don’t understand. Harry is a leading expert in this field. It’s his specialty. How could he not have seen the signs?” I looked down, a lump forming in my throat. I still found myself making excuses for him. “This was the first… episode. It’s normal that he wouldn’t notice.” His mind is entirely on Zoe, I thought. He has no time to notice me. Miles opened his mouth to say something else, but seeing the look on my face, he thought better of it. “Chelsea, you have to tell him. You know as well as I do that this can be life-threatening.” I nodded, my mind a fog of uncertainty. Tell him? Would he even have the time to listen? “Miles, can you… can you please not say anything to Harry just yet? I don’t want my… condition… to interfere with his work.” He looked at me, his eyes a mixture of pity and concern, and finally nodded. “Okay. But please, take care of yourself. Try to avoid any major emotional stress.” I mumbled my thanks and left the clinic, the diagnosis report feeling like a lead weight in my hand. Sitting in my car, Miles’s words echoed in my head. “How could he not have seen the signs?” He was right. Harry used to boast that he could diagnose a patient’s deepest issues from a single gesture. Yet here I was, his wife, and he hadn’t noticed a thing. A wave of grief and anger washed over me. I couldn’t take it anymore. On pure impulse, I started the car and drove to the private villa where Harry was treating Zoe. But as I pulled up to the gate, I hesitated. Harry had been explicit: no visits. He’d said any interruption could compromise Zoe’s treatment. The rational part of me knew I should turn back. I trusted Harry. I never, not for a second, believed he would be unfaithful. My love for him was absolute. I was just angry. Angry that he was choosing a patient over his wife. I wrestled with myself for what felt like an eternity. I decided to leave. But the ache to see him, just for a moment, was too strong. I crept to the large bay window, peering inside. The scene before me froze the blood in my veins. Zoe’s arms were wrapped around Harry’s neck, her lips pressed against his. For a split second, Harry froze. Then… he responded, his hand moving to the small of her back, deepening the kiss. They were lost in each other, right there in front of me. Time stopped. The world went silent, save for the frantic, deafening roar of my own heartbeat. A voice, raw and broken, tore from my throat before I could think. “What are you doing?” Harry’s eyes flew open. He pushed Zoe away, his face a mask of panic as he stared at me through the glass. “Chelsea? What are you doing here? I told you not to come!” His first reaction was to blame me. He didn’t answer my question. Instead, he turned to Zoe, his voice gentle. “It’s okay. She’s just a friend.” A friend. Then, he put his arm around Zoe and led her upstairs, leaving me standing alone in the garden like a ghost. As they disappeared from view, I noticed something else. The decor, the furniture, even the way the light fell through the windows—it was an exact replica of our own home. I thought I was hallucinating. Why would Harry do this? 3 A few minutes later, Harry came back downstairs. He took my hand, his eyes shining not with guilt, but with a disturbing, clinical excitement. “Chelsea, you saw that, didn’t you? She initiated it! She kissed me! This is a massive breakthrough. The therapy is working!” I snatched my hand away, staring at him in disbelief. “Is kissing part of your ‘therapy’ now, Harry? And this house… why did you make this house look exactly like ours?” He didn’t seem to register my fury. “It’s a therapeutic technique!” he explained, as if speaking to a child. “Emotional alexithymia is rooted in an inability to feel or receive love. The only way to break through is to make her fall in love with me. She agreed to it.” He paused, his expression softening into one of placation. “Don’t worry. You know you’re the only one for me. That has never changed. I decorated this place like our home because… you’re the only person I’ve ever truly loved. I don’t know how to love anyone else. So, I’m using the way I love you as a model to treat her.” I understood every word, but the sentence they formed was pure insanity. His treatment method was to make his patient fall in love with him? And they had both agreed to this grotesque arrangement? He was a madman. He was using our love, our life, our home, as a tool. And in doing so, where did that leave me? “I don’t agree!” The words came out as a shout. “Harry, I don’t agree to this! You stop this right now! You come home with me!” The smile vanished from his face. “I can’t. We’re at a critical stage. Her recovery is imminent. I can’t leave now.” I stared at him, the pain in my chest becoming a physical, crushing weight. “I’m saying this one last time, Harry.” My voice trembled. “Come. Home. Now.” He didn’t speak. He just slowly lowered his head. His silence was the only answer I needed. Between me and Zoe, he had chosen her. I looked at him, at the man I had known my whole life, and it was like seeing a stranger. A loud ringing started in my ears. The suffocating feeling from before was back, stronger this time. Another attack was coming. Harry saw I wasn’t leaving but ignored me, heading back upstairs. The moment he was gone, I collapsed. The pain in my chest was unbearable, a heart attack of the soul. The depression was consuming me. I couldn’t process it. The Harry I knew wouldn’t do this. The Harry who loved me was gone. A cold sweat broke out across my body. My husband was upstairs, tending to another woman, while I lay dying on his floor. I curled into a ball, fighting the agony, fighting the urge to shatter into a million pieces. I don’t know how long I lay there, but eventually, the suffocating grip began to loosen. I had survived. I pushed myself up, cast one last, desolate look up the stairs, and walked away. A light rain had started to fall, mingling with the tears on my cheeks. I drove home in a stupor. The moment I opened the door, Waffles was there, whining and nudging my leg with his head. I sank to the floor and pulled him into my arms. The storm inside me calmed, just a little. He was my only comfort now. The day’s events had left me utterly drained. I had no energy left to think, to feel. I just hugged Waffles and carried him upstairs to bed. I woke the next morning feeling physically better, but the hole in my heart remained. The image of Harry and Zoe kissing replayed in my mind, a fresh wave of nausea with each viewing. He had used our love story as a prescription for another woman. I went downstairs. Harry was waiting for me on the sofa. He saw me and rushed over, pulling me into an embrace. 4 “I’m sorry about last night,” he murmured into my hair. “You were right to be upset.” He pulled back, his eyes bright with that same clinical fervor. “But Chelsea, Zoe’s progress is incredible. We are so close to a full recovery!” He looked at me, his expression softening into one of deep affection. “I know this has been hard on you. How about a trip? Anywhere you want. The Caribbean? Switzerland? I’ll clear my schedule. We’ll go, just the two of us.” I don’t know if it was the depression, or the lingering rage from the night before, but his words brought me no comfort. He chattered on, planning our getaway, while I just watched him, silent. For the first time, I was truly examining the foundation of our relationship, and seeing the cracks. The memory of that kiss was a splinter in my soul. I knew that every time Harry tried to kiss me from now on, I would see her face. He finally noticed my silence. “Chelsea, I know you’re hurt,” he said, taking my hands. “But I promise you, once the treatment is over, I will never see her again.” He looked directly into my eyes, and the love I saw there, the love I had known my whole life, didn’t seem fake. My resolve wavered. All those years, all that history… you can’t just erase it. Looking into his eyes, I finally gave a small nod. I would forgive him. This one last time. A brilliant smile lit up his face. He kissed my forehead and hurried upstairs to pack. With the decision made, some of the anxiety in my chest eased. I went to the kitchen to get Waffles his breakfast. I called his name. Once, twice. No response. A cold knot of dread began to form in my stomach. Harry came downstairs, pulling a suitcase. “Oh, I sent Waffles over to Zoe’s,” he said casually. “Animal companionship is great for emotional regulation. With him there to keep her stable, I can be here with you.” The dread intensified. “You sent him to her? Without asking me?” He shrugged, completely unconcerned. “It’s fine. Zoe seemed to really like him.” “No!” The word ripped out of me, raw and panicked. My emotions spiraled out of control. “Take me to him. Now! We have to go now!” Harry held up his hands placatingly. “Chelsea, calm down. What are you so worried about? She’s a patient, not a monster. What could possibly happen to Waffles?” The ringing in my ears was back, louder than ever. The edges of my vision started to go dark. It was happening again. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my eyes locked on his. “Harry,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “If you don’t take me to get my dog right now, we are getting a divorce.” The threat finally seemed to register. He frowned, his professional gaze assessing me, a flicker of concern in his eyes. Just then, the doorbell rang. He turned to get it. My heart hammered against my ribs, a primal, terrified rhythm. He opened the door. It was Zoe. She was covered in blood. My gaze drifted down to the black plastic bag in her hand. It was dripping. Harry stared at her, horrified. “Zoe? What happened? Why are you covered in blood?” She didn’t answer. She just opened the bag. It was Waffles.

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As the most famous weather anchor in all of Port City, my forecasts were never right. It didn’t take long for everyone to understand the real barometer. In this city, whether it rained or snowed depended entirely on whether Rob Zhou’s latest mistress was smiling or crying. One moment, I’d be on air forecasting “moderate to heavy snowfall,” and the next, the clouds would part for a brilliantly sunny sky. My boss didn’t mince words, dressing me down in front of the entire newsroom. “You used to be the star of this network, Clara. What happened? Your husband is out there playing God with the weather, and you’re still trying to read a teleprompter? What’s the point?” A colleague chimed in, her words dripping with schadenfreude. “I heard his new girl can’t stand the cold. Guess Port City won’t be seeing a single snowflake this year. She’s going to get fined into oblivion.” I clutched a dozen penalty notices in my hand, my silence a wall of stone. When I got home, I tossed the stack of fines onto the coffee table in front of Rob without a word. “Your mess. You clean it up. I’m done being Mrs. Zhou. The position is officially open.” … Rob picked up a fine, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, which quickly morphed into a playful, cruel smile. “So, it didn’t snow today, you got embarrassed at work, and now you’re taking it out on me?” “I’m being serious, Rob. I want a divorce,” I said, enunciating every word. The uncharacteristic coldness in my tone finally made the smirk on his face curdle and fade. The housekeeper, holding a tea tray, froze in place. After a few tense seconds, Rob broke the silence with a cold sneer. “Clara, I thought you’d learned your lesson. You don’t want a repeat of what happened three years ago, do you?” I froze, the memory washing over me like ice water. Three years ago. My face was on every giant screen in Port City, forecasting a beautiful, sunny day, cheerfully reminding citizens to wear sunscreen. Meanwhile, to impress some cocktail waitress from a downtown club, Rob had paid a fortune to have the clouds seeded for rain. The sky turned black, the heavens opened up, and I became the laughingstock of Port City—the pathetic queen of weather. I was savaged by my superiors and handed the first penalty notice of my career. I’d lost my mind that night. I stormed into the club with a bottle of whiskey and smashed it over the girl’s head. Rob just sat on a plush sofa, watching the chaos with a detached, lazy amusement. The real breakdown came later, when I learned that my mother, rushing to my side to comfort me, had been in a car accident. She was paralyzed from the waist down. I was hysterical, completely shattered. But Rob’s voice was calm, chillingly so. “The wife of Rob Zhou needs to learn how to suffer in silence. You didn’t understand that before. A lesson like this, you only need to learn it once.” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The memories were a blade that twisted in my heart every single day. Seeing my silence now, Rob’s tone softened. He gestured to a mountain of designer shopping bags on the table. “As long as you understand. Everything in this city, the best of the best, it all belongs to Mrs. Zhou. What more could you possibly want?” At his signal, the housekeeper unveiled a haute couture gown. My closet was a museum of priceless dresses and limited-edition handbags that other women in this city would kill for. But I knew what they really were: blood money. Payments for his infidelity. Wearing them felt like being paraded through the streets in shame. I let out a cold, sharp laugh and threw my coffee all over the dress. The staff gasped. Rob stared at the dark stains that had splashed onto his own suit, his patience finally snapping. “That’s enough, Clara!” A cup of hot tea flew through the air, scalding my arm. Blisters rose on my skin instantly. The pain was so sharp it made my scalp tingle and my fingers curl into fists. The man’s breath hitched, but the cruelty in his eyes didn’t soften. “Lila is an intern at your station. It would be best for you to mentor her. If you won’t, I have other ways of making her a star.” His gaze flickered to the row of broadcasting awards on my mantelpiece, a clear warning in his eyes. He knew how to break a woman like me, a woman who had built her life on her achievements. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and forced a smile. “Fine.” Surprise flashed across his face, but it was cut short by his ringing phone. His voice instantly changed, becoming soft and tender. “Okay. I’ll be right there.” He hung up and strode out of the house, the joyful spring in his step impossible to hide. Watching him go, I wiped a tear from my eye and dialed my old classmate, now my lawyer. “Ethan, I need you to file the papers. It’s time to honor our five-year promise.” His confident reply was all I needed to hear. I ended the call, feeling as if my heart had been hollowed out. Everyone in Port City knew I’d abandoned my promising legal career to become a weather anchor just to marry Rob Zhou. His mother had initially despised me, claiming a lawyer’s silver tongue was unfit for their prestigious family. So Rob, in a grand gesture, had made me a star. He’d turned me into the queen of the network, my shelves groaning under the weight of awards. But at the peak of my career, he’d made it rain for a nightclub girl. As I fell from grace, he had whispered in my ear, his laughter laced with poison. “Jealous? I put in far more effort chasing you. Can’t I have a little fun on the side?” It became clearer and clearer. Once he had me, I was just something to be trampled underfoot. That night, my boss called me into the station for an emergency broadcast. I rushed in, script in hand, ready for the studio, only to come face to face with Lila Meng. “Clara,” she said, her voice sickly sweet. “Rob asked if I could have a go in the studio tonight, just to try it out. You don’t mind, do you?” Her eyes were greedily fixed on my script, her victory already assured. I had known Rob would spoil her. I just hadn’t realized how cruel he could be. I laughed, a hollow, self-deprecating sound, and let the script fall from my hand. Rob sat in the control room, watching her stumble through the broadcast with a look of pure fascination, occasionally chuckling at her mistakes. The adoration in his eyes was sickening. For the first time in my career, I was benched. I spent the night fetching coffee for Lila, revising her script behind the scenes, utterly humiliated. The colleagues who had once envied me now dripped with scorn. “Lila’s only been here three days and she’s already on air? So much for being the network’s star.” “Didn’t Clara say she loved the snow? I bet as long as Lila’s around, we won’t see a single flake all winter.” “Five hundred bucks says Lila takes home the Vanguard Award tomorrow. I’m putting my money on the new girl.” … After the broadcast, Rob brought Lila over to me, beaming. “So? Wasn’t she great? I told you she had potential.” The pride in his voice was thick enough to choke on. I gave a wooden nod and escaped to the break room. Rob frowned, his eyes following me, as if he wanted to say something. But the chorus of congratulations for Lila quickly drew his attention back. I locked the door, but I couldn’t block out the noise. I poured a coffee, my hands shaking, when my phone buzzed with an anonymous audio file. My finger hovered over the screen, then pressed play. Lila’s voice, panicked and terrified, filled the small room. “Rob, what am I going to do? Clara’s mother just ran out into the road! It was raining so hard…” “You have to help me, Rob! I can disappear for a while, just don’t let me go to jail, please, I’m begging you…” My heart seized. I held my breath, waiting. There was a silence that stretched for what felt like an eternity. Then, Rob’s voice, impossibly gentle, impossibly cruel. “Here’s a plane ticket out of the country. The rest… you leave to me.” A cold dread washed over me. Every hair on my body stood on end. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. The date of the recording… it was the day of my mother’s accident. Lila was the hit-and-run driver. And my husband was her accomplice. I staggered back, turning, and found Rob standing right behind me. “Are you having me investigated, Clara?” His brow was furrowed, his expression a complex mix of emotions. But there was no guilt. “So it’s true?” I whispered. I prayed he would deny it, tell me the audio was a fake. His eyes darted away for a fraction of a second before he fell silent. That was all the confirmation I needed. The last flicker of hope inside me died. The next second, he wrapped his arms around me, holding my trembling body close. He spoke in the softest whisper, delivering the most brutal words I had ever heard. “Clara, it’s in the past. Your mother is still alive, isn’t she? But Lila… she has her whole future ahead of her.” I stared at him, a fish bone caught in my throat. I remembered that night, the flashing lights, the pouring rain. I had tried to run past the police tape, barefoot and screaming, but Rob had held me back, his grip like steel. He had held me, his own voice trembling as he soothed me. “Clara, I’m here. I’ll find the driver. I swear to you, they won’t get away with this. I promise.” I had a shard of a broken bottle in my hand and I had thrashed wildly, hitting him again and again, but he just held on, the rain washing the blood from his arms as he repeated, “It’s okay, it’s okay…” I was so naive. I believed him. I thought he had brought the person who ruined my mother’s life to justice. But his justice was a plane ticket and a cover-up. The blood in my veins turned to ice. Just then, Lila burst in, her face streaked with tears. “Clara, please, stop threatening me with that recording! I’m so scared of losing my job…” As she spoke, she gestured wildly, revealing her arm. The onlookers gasped. It was covered in ugly bruises and what looked like fresh cuts. One glance was all it took. The pain in Rob’s eyes was immediate. He looked back at me, his face a mask of bitter disappointment. “Clara, is this what you’ve been doing behind my back? Abusing her? How could you?” Those pathetic, fake bruises… what were they compared to my mother’s shattered spine? What were they compared to the five years of betrayal I had endured? I started to laugh, a wild, unhinged sound. I didn’t even bother to explain. “Does it hurt you to see her like this, Rob? Then let’s get a divorce.” I pulled the divorce agreement Ethan had prepared from my purse and shoved it at him. The crowd erupted in shocked whispers as he read the document. Rob’s eyes, red-rimmed and furious, bored into mine. “Fine! You want a divorce? You’ve got it. I’ll give you three days to come crawling back.” He scrawled his name on the signature line, shot me one last glare of pure hatred, and stormed out, his arm protectively around Lila. The mocking whispers followed them. Everyone was placing their bets on how long it would take for me to come crawling back to him. Rob didn’t come home that night. He was photographed escorting Lila to a series of high-profile parties, introducing her to his powerful network contacts. The scene was sickeningly familiar. It was exactly what he had done for me. He had already decided that this year’s Vanguard Award would go to Lila, a rookie who had been on air exactly once. It was a simple, elegant way to publicly humiliate me, to prove to all of Port City that without him, I was nothing. Lila’s face was on the TV. I calmly packed my bags. The next morning, a frantic call from the hospital woke me. “Ms. Chen? It’s about your mother. She… she disappeared from her room early this morning.” My heart seized. Without a second thought, I raced to the awards ceremony. I arrived just as Rob was about to present the trophy to Lila, who stood beside him in a stunning couture gown. They looked like a king and queen. I, on the other hand, was a ghost at the feast—no makeup, my hair a mess, my presence a jarring note in the elegant affair. From the stage, Rob saw me and smiled, a smug, knowing look on his face. He thought I’d come to my senses, that I was here to publicly beg for his forgiveness. He was about to be disappointed. Ignoring the scornful looks from the crowd, I walked toward the stage, my eyes, red and wild, fixed on Lila. “What did you do with my mother?” I screamed, my voice shaking. “Don’t you dare touch her!” The crowd murmured, half amused, half horrified. The smile vanished from Rob’s face, replaced by pure fury. He strode forward and shoved me. Hard. “Clara, you’re scaring her!” I stumbled backward off the stage, the impact knocking the wind out of me, the pain so intense it felt like my insides had shattered. Rob took an involuntary step forward, but Lila was faster. She rushed down and helped me up, her voice a concerned whisper for all to hear. “Clara, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, don’t embarrass Rob like this.” Then, she leaned in close, her voice dropping so only I could hear. “You really are clever, aren’t you? Figuring out I took your mother.” She smiled, a bright, beautiful, terrifying smile. “Now, do you want to guess what I’m going to do to her?” Her eyes, hidden from everyone else, were filled with a monstrous light. A primal fear gripped me. I lunged, my hands closing around her throat, squeezing with all my strength. “Give me back my mother!” A powerful force ripped me away. A hand cracked across my face, the impact staggering me. Rob stood over me, his hand trembling, his face a thundercloud of rage. “I have been patient with you, Clara, but this is too much! You’d throw away your dignity for a stupid trophy? You’re pathetic!” In his eyes, I saw my own reflection: a crazed, pathetic woman making a scene. But my mind was screaming, imagining what was happening to my mother. I scrambled up, snatched the heavy, winged trophy from Rob’s hand, and lunged at Lila again. “Ah!” But it was Rob who cried out. He had moved to block me, and the trophy had slammed into his back. He grunted in pain and shoved me away. The sharp edge of the award’s metal wing caught my cheek, slicing it open. Blood dripped onto the pristine carpet. The trophy clattered to the floor. “Have you lost your mind, Clara?!” Out of his line of sight, Lila held up a small remote. The screen showed a timer, counting down from three minutes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387981”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’m a travel vlogger who never really made it big, but I had two people who spoiled me rotten. My number one fan was my boyfriend, Ethan. My number two was my best friend, Ava. They were constantly trying to one-up each other in my live streams, showering me with gifts in a bitter rivalry to be number one in my heart. It was a constant headache. But when a flight mishap sent me home earlier than expected, I walked in on these two, who were supposed to be like oil and water, locked in a deep, desperate kiss. Ava’s voice, breathless, pulled away. “I should go. Cathy will be back soon.” Ethan buried his face in the crook of her neck, his voice muffled. “God, I wish her flight was delayed.” So, I was the obstacle. The inconvenience in their love story. But that’s okay. I won’t be a problem for them much longer. In my third year of vlogging, I had traveled across most of the country, documenting everything with my camera. I edited it all together into a final highlight reel of my life. The title of the first video was: [When you watch this, I’ll likely already be dead.] The title of the last was: [Ethan, Ava, if you can, I hope you forget me.] 1 It seems like when your luck runs out, it really runs out. A sudden downpour started just as I was heading home. My first instinct was to call Ethan and ask for a ride, but then I hesitated and put my phone away. The rain was too heavy; I didn’t want him driving in this. Now, standing outside my own front door, I could feel cold raindrops tracing paths down my hair and into the collar of my shirt. I was soaked through, but my first thought was a strange sort of relief: At least I didn’t interrupt them. I slipped around to the fire escape and waited, my drenched clothes clinging to my skin like a second, colder layer. Normally, I would have rushed inside, desperate for a hot shower. But now, I just stared blankly at my feet, my mind a complete void. Finally, I heard the front door open and close. I took a deep breath, walked back around, and tried to enter the code as if nothing had happened. My hands were shaking, probably from the cold, and I kept messing up the numbers. Just as the automated voice announced, “Please wait one minute before trying again,” the door swung open. Ethan poked his head out, a smile still lingering on his face. “Forget something?” His smile vanished the second he saw me. “Cathy? Isn’t your flight supposed to be at three? Why are you back so early? I was just about to leave to pick you up.” The watch on his wrist read 3:15. He rubbed his face awkwardly. “Look at me, my head’s like a sieve. Something came up with work, and I completely lost track of time.” “It’s okay,” I said softly. “Work is more important.” “Can I come in? It’s raining, and I’m freezing.” Only then did he seem to relax his guard, opening the door wider to let me in. I had barely set down my suitcase when his voice, sharp with suspicion, cut through the air. “Cathy, why are you back so much earlier this time? Your flights are usually delayed.” I heard the unspoken question in his voice. What did you see? I found myself thinking the same thing he was: I wish it had been delayed. Why, in the last three months of my life, did I have to walk in on this? My plane had flown straight into a thunderstorm. From my window seat, all I could see were thick, black clouds split by blinding flashes of lightning. The aircraft lurched and shuddered in the violent turbulence, tossing me around in my seat. The situation felt dire; the cabin was filled with the sound of quiet sobbing. But I just hugged my bag tighter. I’d cried like that three years ago, uncontrollably, when the doctor first told me I had stomach cancer. But after living under the shadow of death for so long, I found a strange sense of calm in the chaos. The man next to me shouted over the roar, “Kid, grab the seatbelt, not your bag! What’s in there, an urn?!” I ignored him. It wasn’t an urn. It was the last three years of my life. My final reel. At that moment, only one thought crossed my mind: Thank God I always carry my camera. If the plane goes down, at least Ethan and Ava can hear my last words. Snapping back to the present, I offered a simple explanation. “The weather was bad. The pilot just flew faster to get through it.” Ethan finally seemed to notice I was dripping water all over the floor. He sprang into action, kneeling to take off my shoes, bustling around to get me a glass of hot water. As he came back from the bathroom with a clean towel, he saw my eyes linger on the disheveled sofa. He rushed over, dropping the towel without noticing. “I took a nap here this afternoon,” he said, a little too quickly. “I’m a restless sleeper. Can’t believe I made such a mess.” He smoothed out the wrinkles on the cushions and picked up a hand-knit blanket to fold it. “I think it’s a little dirty,” I interrupted him. “Let’s just toss it in the wash.” “Good idea,” he said without a hint of argument, snatching the blanket and hurrying to the laundry room. The truth was, the blanket was perfectly clean. I’d had him air it out just a couple of days ago. But the image of the two of them tangled together on it made my skin crawl. I had knitted that blanket for Ava, but Ethan had thrown a fit and claimed it for himself. “No way! I’m your boyfriend. The first blanket you ever knit has to be mine!” Ava had been furious, ready to fight him for it. “Have you no shame, Ethan? Cathy made this for me!” The sight of them, red-faced and tugging at the blanket like children, was embarrassing. I’d had to coax Ava into letting go, promising to knit her an even bigger, better one. They say a triangle is the most stable shape, but not for us. Over the years, scenes like that had become common. With my boyfriend on one side and my best friend on the other, I was always stuck in the middle, playing peacemaker. I just never imagined that while I was busy keeping the peace, they were finding their own kind of harmony behind my back. 2 Ever since the cancer diagnosis, my body felt like a rusted machine. One rainstorm was all it took for it to grind to a halt. I had a fever. Lying in bed, lost in a delirious haze, I heard Ava’s voice cut through the fog. “How did Cathy suddenly get a fever? Ethan, what kind of a job are you doing taking care of her!” A cool palm pressed against my forehead, and the relief was so profound I instinctively leaned into the touch. Ava and I had been inseparable since childhood. I was always the sickly one, thin as a stray cat, my face flushing after the slightest exertion. Ava would always press her hand to my forehead, worrying I was running a fever. Back then, it was always Ava who walked me to the school nurse’s office. Later, it became Ethan who carried me there. Ethan was a senior when I was a freshman. He hit me with a basketball by accident during a game, sending stars across my vision and twisting my ankle. He was consumed with guilt. From that day on, he took it upon himself to get my lunch and fill my water bottle. He checked on my ankle every single day without fail and carried me home on his back. My ankle healed, but he never stopped getting my lunch, sprinting from his class the moment the bell rang just to grab my favorite dishes before they were gone. Ava used to whisper in my ear, “No one is that nice for no reason. He’s up to something.” “Cathy, you’re too trusting. Be careful, or a wolf is going to snatch you up.” Maybe I’m just a creature of habit. Ava had been my friend forever, my only friend. Ethan took care of me, and I fell in love with him. When Ethan found out, he was ecstatic. Ava was furious. “What’s so great about that big oaf? Anything he can do, I can do better. Cathy, why can’t you just love me?” I remember hugging a pouting Ava, repeating over and over, “I do love you. I love you, too.” But you can’t be in love with two people at the same time. Ethan and Ava both saw themselves as the rightful main character in my life, and a bitter rivalry was born. Every time they met, the air crackled with sarcasm and thinly veiled insults. That was one of the main reasons I made my video diaries—I hoped that after watching them, they might find a way to soften toward each other, to not blame one another for what happened to me. You can’t blame anyone for a terminal illness. You can only blame bad luck. I figured that because I had been blessed with the two best people in the world, and the purest kind of happiness, Fate had to take something back in return. “Ethan, did you give Cathy her medicine? She’s going to wake up thirsty and miserable. Go boil some water…” Ava’s voice was sharp, a string of commands fired off without preamble. Ethan just said, “Okay, okay,” his tone lacking its usual defensive edge. It sounded more like… affection. “Ava,” Ethan said her name softly. “Cathy got home right after you left yesterday.” Ava’s voice disappeared completely. I forced my heavy eyelids open just a crack and saw a hand snatch back from my bedside and Ava’s face, pale as a sheet. 3 “Don’t worry, she probably doesn’t know. I tested the waters last night. She was acting just like her old self. She even brought us souvenirs from her trip.” Seeing how shaken Ava was, Ethan was the one who started to panic. He pressed the glass of warm water he’d prepared for me into her hands. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. Drink some water. Calm down.” Ava took a sip, and some color returned to her cheeks. She looked from Ethan to me, lying feverish and unconscious, and suddenly her composure shattered. “So what if she didn’t find out this time? What about next time? Ethan, how long can we keep hiding this?!” She paused, wiping away her tears with a fierce gesture. Her nose was red as she said, “I can’t do this, Ethan. The guilt is eating me alive. Let’s end it, before she finds out.” Ethan’s head snapped up. He pulled her into his arms, his movements sudden and desperate. “You’re always talking about Cathy, Cathy, Cathy! How long are you going to play mother to her?” he demanded, his voice tight with frustration. “She’s a bottomless pit of need, Ava. When are you going to start thinking about yourself?” “Ava, love isn’t something you can just give away out of pity. And it doesn’t care about who was first. As long as we both want this, there’s no reason to break up.” His voice was so firm, so resolute. For a second, I was transported back to that summer day when a blushing teenage boy shoved a bouquet of sunflowers into my arms. “Cathy, be my girlfriend! I promise I’ll take even better care of you than Ava does!” I let my eyes fall shut again, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. A bitter tear escaped the corner of my eye, disappearing into my hair. Even his confession of love had been haunted by her shadow. I should have seen it then. “Cough, cough…” The sound of my dry cough made them spring apart. Ava rushed to my side, carefully helping me sip some water. “Cathy, how are you feeling? Still awful?” I took the glass from her, taking small sips until the raw itch in my throat finally subsided. “Much better.” I gave her a smile, the same one I always did. But she couldn’t meet my eyes, turning away and quickly making an excuse to leave. “I’ll go pick up some medicine for you, just to have on hand…” As she stood up, she swayed, pressing a hand to her head as if she was about to fall. “Ava!” Before I could even speak, Ethan was by her side. He steadied her in an instant, one hand on her waist, the other cupping her face, his expression fraught with panic. “Ava, what’s wrong? Are you okay? I’m taking you to the hospital!” He was about to sweep her up into his arms, but she frantically pushed against his shoulders, creating distance between them. “I’m fine. Just got dizzy for a second, I stood up too fast. We don’t need to go to the hospital. Cathy’s the one who’s sick.” She shot me a nervous, guilty glance. “Honestly, Ethan, stop making such a big deal out of nothing!” Ethan, left with his arms empty, looked stunned. His eyes were downcast, his expression unreadable. I took it all in, still pretending I knew nothing. “Ava, is your blood sugar low again? I brought you some Belgian chocolates from my trip. They’re on the desk, go get them.” Then I turned to Ethan. “Ethan, go with her. I brought something back for you too, so don’t you dare steal Ava’s this time.” That seemed to snap him out of it. He stiffly led Ava out of the bedroom. The moment they were gone, my carefully constructed composure crumbled. I stumbled into the bathroom and doubled over the toilet, retching uncontrollably. Acid and streaks of blood burned my insides. I clutched my stomach, leaning against the sink as a cold sweat broke out across my skin, my body shaking with pain. I had been holding it all in while they were here, and the release was overwhelming. The noise brought them running to the door. “Cathy? Are you in there? What’s going on?” With the last of my strength, I locked the door and slid to the floor. The woman in the mirror was a pathetic sight, her face as white as paper. I was trying so hard to hide this from them. I didn’t want them to see me like this. But then… My eyes landed on a lock of my own hair lying on the cool tile floor. I suddenly had no idea how much longer I could hide anything at all. 4 “Ms. Evans, your condition has worsened.” I nodded calmly. I’d been expecting it. That day, after I’d locked myself in the bathroom, I had just picked up that first fallen lock of hair when another one drifted down to the floor. A primal fear seized me. I tentatively touched my scalp, and another clump came away in my hand. The hair loss became relentless. I started vomiting constantly. In just a few days, I had become gaunt and frail. I looked so hideous. I rented a small apartment and moved out without telling Ethan or Ava, avoiding them completely. “Ms. Evans, are you sure you want to continue with palliative care only? Chemotherapy might slow the progression.” The doctor’s voice was gentle, but anyone could see the ashen color of my skin. I adjusted my wig, surprised I could still manage a smile. “Yes. I’m not a fan of pain. Let’s not add to it. Just some painkillers will be fine.” After picking up my prescription from the pharmacy window, I turned and bumped right into someone. “I’m so sorry.” I apologized immediately, only realizing as the words left my mouth that the other person’s voice was achingly familiar. I looked up and met Ethan’s shocked eyes. “Cathy? What are you doing at the hospital?” Before I could even think of a lie, the pharmacist called Ethan’s name. “Dydrogesterone, twice a day, one tablet. Make sure the expectant mother stays calm, no emotional distress.” Ethan took the bag, his movements jerky. “It’s, uh, for my sister.” “Oh, I see…” My voice trailed off as another one cut in. “Ethan, the doctor said I need to be careful in the first trimester. You have to stop stressing me out like this.” The tone was soft, almost a playful pout. It took me a second to even recognize it as Ava’s voice. “Cathy! What are you doing here?” And in that moment, the subtle tension between them finally clicked into place. They were so in sync now, even their shock was perfectly mirrored. “Ava, you’re pregnant? When did you even get a boyfriend? Why didn’t I know?” Ava’s pupils contracted. Her fingers twisted the hem of her shirt, her knuckles turning white. “Cathy, I…” Ethan cut her off, looking me straight in the eye. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “And the baby is mine.” 5 That night, after I first discovered their affair, I’d spent hours thinking. Ethan and Ava had been so good to me, so incredibly good, that even after their betrayal, I couldn’t bring myself to hate them. I even thought that maybe, after I was gone, it would be a comfort for them to have each other, to move on together. But now, for the first time, I hated Ethan. Why did he have to rip it all open like this? Why couldn’t he just let me live out my last days in peace? “Ethan! What are you talking about?” Ava cried out, her eyes darting nervously to my face. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. Ava, we’re having a child. We can’t let our baby be born without a name.” Ethan’s expression was deadly serious, a look I had never seen on him before. He turned back to me and repeated, “I’m sorry, Cathy. But I’m in love with Ava, and I want to be with her.” “Cathy, let’s break up.” A bitter, indescribable pain flooded my chest, spreading through my entire body. The color drained from my face, leaving my skin almost translucent and making the red rims of my eyes stand out in stark relief. A mouthful of blood suddenly spewed from my lips, and my legs gave out from under me. “Cathy!” Ava screamed and lunged forward to catch me, but then she stopped short, hesitating. “Ava, you’re pregnant. Don’t touch that, it’s filthy.” Ethan pulled Ava into his arms, and she let him, her forward momentum ceasing completely. I stared at the wretched mess on the floor, swallowing hard against the coppery taste rising in my throat. My life was ending, and I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t want some grand, dramatic farewell. I just wanted to leave quietly. But Ethan wasn’t done. A cruel smirk twisted his lips. “Wow, Cathy. That’s some perfectly timed theatrics. Didn’t the doctor just say we shouldn’t upset Ava?” he sneered. “Convenient we’re already at the hospital. Saves us the trouble of calling an ambulance.” I used to be frail. It was a known fact. A bad coughing fit could sometimes bring up a little blood. In the beginning, they would panic, scrambling to call for help, rushing to get me water. But I guess it was like the boy who cried wolf. They had just gotten used to it. At Ethan’s words, Ava flinched. The look she gave me changed. I wiped the blood from my mouth and forced a pained smile. “Sorry.” But as I took a single step forward, Ava instinctively clutched her stomach and recoiled, her eyes wide with fear and alarm. I froze. She didn’t have to be afraid of me. I barely had the energy to stand, let alone do anything else. Besides, I had once told her I wanted to be her baby’s godmother. “Ava, when you have a baby, I’m going to be the godmother. I’ll spoil them rotten, an extension of my love for you.” I had even bought a small gold locket, a gift for a baby I would never meet. A way for a piece of me to be there, even after I was gone. I stood there, unsure of what to say. In the end, I did what I did best. I ran. I fled back to my rented room and watched my video diaries, alone. A final look back at the life I was leaving behind. As the memories played out, the sobs I had been suppressing finally broke free. The arrival of their child had shattered every last one of my delusions. There was no more pretending. “How could you do this to me?” I wept into the empty room. “How could you?” I cried until I passed out. When I woke up, the storm had passed, leaving behind a dead, stagnant calm. I called a courier and had him deliver the collection of videos to them. It was three years of my life. I still wanted them to have it. Then, I packed my bag, booked a flight, and terminated my lease. I left with nothing, heading for the place I’d chosen as my final resting place. For three years, I had scouted the perfect location for my grave. I used to be so afraid that every goodbye might be our last, so I cherished every moment. I never thought I would be the one to walk away. Ethan. Ava. Goodbye, for good.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387979”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Tonight was my birthday, and tonight was the night I was going to give myself to Kevin. I had just slipped into a short skirt when I saw him, leaning against his Porsche just like he always did. He was flashing a lazy smile at the dorm mom. “Come on, just let me in,” he wheedled. “If my girlfriend sees me standing out here in the cold for too long, she’ll worry.” My heart did a little flip. I turned to my best friend, Sophie, and solemnly handed her a gift-wrapped box. “Sophie, thank you for putting up with all of Kevin’s antics while he was trying to win me over.” “You won’t have to anymore. I’m planning to…” The words “say yes” were still on my lips when I walked right into a solid, warm chest. Kevin glanced down at me, took a half-step back, and his expression turned cold and distant. “Excuse me. Can you tell Sophie I’m here?” “I’m picking her up for our date.” 1 Kevin was tall, and he looked down at me with the kind of indifference you’d reserve for a complete stranger. My mouth fell open, a question forming, but I was cut off by Sophie’s voice from behind me. “Chloe, your ID card!” She was holding the gift I’d just given her, her voice sweet and thoughtful. “Didn’t you say you weren’t coming back tonight? It’s easier to check into a hotel if you have your ID.” She tilted her head. “Oh, and Chloe, that skirt is so pretty on you! But it’s freezing today. Aren’t you worried you’ll catch a cold?” I could feel Kevin’s gaze burning into the top of my head. I didn’t dare to look up. Suddenly, the fabric of the skirt felt like it was lined with needles, and the cold air bit at my bare legs. “Alright,” Kevin drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe, an eyebrow arched in amusement. “You’re already an hour late for our first date.” He didn’t even spare me a glance. His eyes fell to the gift box in Sophie’s hands, and he froze. The relaxed look on his face hardened again. “What’s that?” Sophie smiled brightly. “A gift from Chloe. She said it was—” She turned to me, blinking her big, innocent eyes. “Why did you get me a gift again, Chloe? I was doing my makeup, so I wasn’t really listening.” A sour feeling churned in my stomach. I bit my lip to keep the tears from falling. In the few seconds I hesitated, trying to figure out what to say, Kevin reached out, took the box from Sophie’s hands, and tossed it into the trash can by the door with one fluid motion. He looked away, his arm snaking around Sophie’s waist as he chuckled softly. “Don’t clutter your space with junk like that.” “You’re my girlfriend now,” he murmured, his voice low. “You need to remember something—you deserve the best of everything in the world.” With that, Kevin leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Sophie’s cheek. He watched her blush, then used the opportunity to pull her tighter against him. I instinctively turned my head away, refusing to watch. I felt like a ghost, completely out of place but with nowhere to go. The strange, suffocating awkwardness was finally broken when Kevin said my name. “Chloe.” The two syllables rolled off his tongue, just as intimate and possessive as they always had before. In that instant, I remembered something Kevin had once said: “To get you, I’d use every trick in the book.” Could it be… was he just playing hard to get? Was this whole thing just an act for my benefit? The thought gave me a surge of hope, and I lifted my head to meet his eyes. “Chloe?” he repeated. Then, his face perfectly calm, he spoke each word with deliberate clarity. “We’re going camping tonight.” “So… don’t bother leaving the door unlocked for Sophie.” 2 Night fell, and the dorm room emptied out, leaving a profound silence in its wake. My other two roommates hadn’t returned from their holiday break yet. I grabbed my takeout delivery and bolted the door. I was in the middle of packing away the box of love letters Kevin had sent me when his name flashed across my phone screen. “Are you asleep?” His voice sounded distant, with the faint whistle of wind in the background. It was hoarse. “Sorry, I know you hate it when I call this late.” Hearing that familiar, gentle tone, my hand, which was gripping a beer bottle, froze. “Not yet,” I managed to say. He cleared his throat, forcing a casual tone. “I need a small favor.” “Sophie posted on her Instagram story a couple of hours ago… You never liked it, and she’s pretty upset. She’s been crying for a while now.” He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself, and his voice became pleading. “I know you don’t like me, but—for the sake of the two years I spent chasing you, could you just do this for me?” “Sophie says you’re her best friend. She really wants your blessing.” Silence stretched after his words. I could hear the ragged, nervous sound of his breathing, so different from the usual carefree Kevin I knew. I stared blankly at Sophie’s empty bed, completely bewildered. I’d never said yes to Kevin because I felt insecure. Our families were from different worlds… even though he always insisted that he liked me for me. I’d poured out all of those confused, bittersweet teenage feelings to Sophie more times than I could count. … “Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who strings a guy along, but then can’t stand to see him happy with someone else?” Kevin’s voice turned cold when I didn’t answer. “Chloe, you can’t be that selfish.” Tears blurred my vision, dripping onto the thick stack of letters in my hands. They landed on Kevin’s strong, elegant handwriting, blurring the words “I really like you” into a black mist. Afraid he would hear me choking up, I spoke softly, slowly. “Okay. I’ll do it.” 3 After hanging up, I gathered the empty beer bottles from the floor and shoved them into a trash bag. Then I opened Instagram. The first thing I saw was Sophie’s latest post: a picture of the Porsche, its interior overflowing with roses, and Kevin holding up a mountain of luxury shopping bags. The caption read: Loving someone is like tending a garden. The one who loves you is always afraid they’re not giving you enough. Kevin looked as handsome and rebellious as ever in the photo. But the love in his eyes wasn’t for me anymore. The sight was like a knife in my gut. I quickly liked the post. Then, copying the other comments, I typed: Congrats! Wishing you the best. I shut my phone off. I stuck a single french fry into my leftover takeout, pretending it was a candle. My parents always said my birthday was the day my mother suffered most, so I’d never celebrated it. This was the first time I had ever wanted to open my heart to someone. The first time I had ever wanted to celebrate. I’d even used a month’s worth of part-time job savings to buy Sophie that gift. … Whatever. I closed my eyes and made a wish. Happy birthday, Chloe. 4 I put the pretty little skirt away in the back of my closet. And with it, a letter. A full page, written with all the care in the world. The one I never got the chance to give to Kevin. 5 To avoid Kevin, I started keeping my distance from Sophie. I became a loner again, the “weird girl” in everyone’s eyes. It felt like I had gone back in time two years. The only difference was that while I had cut off contact with Kevin, his best friend still seemed to enjoy provoking me. Every time we ran into each other, he’d scowl, shove some snack into my arms without a word, and then storm off before I could refuse. I’d grit my teeth, accept the expensive treats, and then work extra shifts to save up enough to buy him a men’s gift of equivalent value in return. After Kevin and Sophie made their relationship official, it got even worse. His friend, Silas, directly gave me a designer down jacket. I saw the price tag and nearly fainted. I was about to return it when I discovered the vindictive man had my name custom-embroidered on the inside of the cuff. I had no choice. I forced a tight smile and said, “Wow, thanks so much.” Then I immediately went to find a second part-time job. That night, just as I was about to finish my shift at the restaurant, the door swung open. “Hello, sorry, we’re about to close.” “But Kevin, I’m really craving this place,” Sophie’s whining voice drifted in. “What should we do?” I kept my head down, pulling the brim of my cap lower, praying they would just leave. But fate had other plans. Kevin just ran a hand through her hair affectionately and murmured, “Alright.” A moment later, after the flash of his fingers on his phone, my manager called to say that I and the kitchen staff would have to stay late. I took a deep breath, pasted on a fake, professional smile, and walked over to their table. “Hi, are you ready to order?” 6 I saw Kevin’s body go visibly rigid. He didn’t look up for a long moment. It was Sophie who broke the silence, grabbing my arm excitedly. “Chloe! You work here! What a coincidence, you should eat with us.” She looked completely harmless and adorable, linking her arm through mine without asking. “Kevin’s paying, so order whatever you want! You…” “That’s not appropriate,” I interrupted softly, pulling my arm free. “Everyone else has gone home for the night. Just tell me what you’d like, and I’ll put the order in with the kitchen.” “But the food might take a little longer than usual…” “Do you have to be like this?” Kevin’s face was dark, and the veins on his forearm stood out below his rolled-up sleeve. His voice was cold. “You and Sophie are supposed to be best friends. Do you have to be so cold and passive-aggressive?” “She treats you like a sister—is your heart made of stone?” I had no idea where his anger was coming from, and I didn’t want to think about it. I turned away to pour them water, then methodically set their table with silverware. By the time I was done, the tense atmosphere had thankfully dissipated. I breathed a sigh of relief. But as I was serving their food, Kevin suddenly noticed a fresh burn on the soft skin between my thumb and forefinger. He stared at it for a second, then his gaze snapped up to mine, his eyes dark and unreadable. I pretended not to see and quickly walked away. Throughout their meal, Sophie seemed to find the situation amusing, constantly calling for me in a cheerful voice. “Chloe, can you cut this for me?” “Chloe, could you get me a soda?” “Chloe, it’s a little chilly. Can you adjust the thermostat?” I served them diligently. Until she called out again, “Chloe, I saw a pharmacy nearby. Since you’re not busy right now, could you run and get me a morning-after pill?” I froze. I was about to say “okay.” But Kevin shot to his feet, his face a blank mask. “I’m done eating.” “Let’s go.” After watching them leave, I collected the fifty-dollar tip the manager gave me for staying late and started clearing the table. For some reason, the smell of chili in the air was overwhelming. My nose stung, and my eyes started to water. 7 There wasn’t much time for self-pity, though. To pay back the favor, I bought Kevin’s friend, Silas, a matching down jacket. When I dropped it off at his classroom, I thought to myself with grim determination: This is the last time. In a few months, we’ll graduate and go our separate ways. I’ll never have to see him again, and his ridiculous provocations will finally end.

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1 A year after the cold war with my uncle, Commander Shepherd, I posted on my social media: “8 pounds, 6 ounces. Mom and baby are doing great. From now on, you two are my whole world.” The post blew up in our friends’ group chat. Everyone was tagging him. “Commander Shepherd, when did you and your niece get married? You kept that under wraps!” As the chat lit up, I added my husband to the group. “Easy, everyone. This is my husband.” The once-frenzied chat went silent, followed by a stream of notifications: “This message was deleted.” I had chased my uncle for seven years. It only took a single moment to finally let him go. … Seven years ago, my confession of love was a disaster. I drove him to take a post on a remote border. Seven years later, he returned with a flourish, all for another woman. The news echoed through the entire military base. That night, I didn’t sleep a wink. I called him ninety-nine times. He declined every single one. After seven years of devotion, he chose someone else. And I was finally tired. So I applied to join a medical aid mission abroad, booking a flight for the following month. For the next week, I didn’t contact him once. I didn’t see him again until the annual Distinguished Service Award ceremony at the base. I saw him with her—Seraphina Vance. My department head pulled me aside, his face a grim mask. The award, which was supposed to be mine, had been personally redirected by Commander Shepherd. It was now Seraphina’s. The fallout was immediate. The “Field Trauma Initiative,” a project I had poured three years of my life into, would be shelved because I’d lost the award. If the project died, my career would be in ruins, my only option a transfer to some forgotten outpost. On stage, the presenter’s voice boomed, “Congratulations to the winner of this year’s Distinguished Service Award, Dr. Seraphina Vance! And now, let’s welcome Commander Shepherd to present the award!” I felt nothing. No one knew better than me how shamelessly Ethan Shepherd could favor someone. Seraphina smiled, gliding onto the stage to deliver a well-rehearsed speech. At the end, she took Ethan’s arm and turned her gaze to me. “But the person I’m most grateful for is Ava Ross. Your research paper was incredibly insightful. I wonder, could I have your blessing today?” A wave of snickering and amused glances fell on me. For seven years, I’d never hidden my feelings. Everyone on the base knew I was desperately in love with him. Now, his official girlfriend was calling me out in public. They were all expecting a meltdown. But I simply rose from my seat with grace, meeting that deep, intense gaze from the stage. My voice was calm and steady. “Congratulations to you both.” After the ceremony, the news of my loss spread like wildfire, trailed by whispers of mockery. My standing at the Military Medical Center plummeted overnight. I was demoted from lead surgeon to second assistant. My single, focused surgery per day turned into a grueling marathon of back-to-back procedures, leaving me barely any time to breathe. I didn’t complain. I just silently performed my duties, a blur of practiced movements—clamping bleeders, suturing wounds. Two weeks passed in a sleep-deprived haze. I was averaging less than three hours a night. The exhaustion was a welcome tide, washing away any spare thought of Ethan Shepherd. Until one day, rushing from one operation to the next, I was stopped in my tracks. A military-grade SUV screeched to a halt barely a foot from me at the hospital entrance. The license plate was exclusive to the District Command. It was his. The tinted window rolled down, revealing his handsome, stern face. “Get in.” I didn’t move. I just pulled off my soiled gloves, a faint frown creasing my brow. “Sorry, I have another surgery.” He looked genuinely surprised by the rejection, his expression hardening instantly. “I thought you only had one surgery a day. What kind of scene are you making now?” I stared at the cold, severe man before me, a profound clarity washing over me. The uncle who had once cherished me, who held me in the palm of his hand, was gone. All these years, my obsession and my desperate chasing had only earned me his contempt. But this time, I wasn’t making a scene. If he hadn’t stolen my award for Seraphina, my project wouldn’t be on hold, and I wouldn’t have been demoted. But I knew he wouldn’t believe me. I had a history, after all. I’d once pretended to faint from exhaustion after an all-nighter, just to get a moment of his attention. He’d ignored me completely, but the hospital, citing my “frail health,” had blocked my promotion to attending surgeon, leaving my career stalled for years. Now, though, I could meet his gaze without flinching. “As a dedicated doctor,” I said, my voice even, “saving lives is my duty.” A humorless smirk touched his lips, the coldness never leaving his eyes. He was angry, I could tell. But this time, I had no intention of soothing him. “Please leave, Commander. You’re blocking the patient entrance.” He shot me a look so frigid it could cut glass. Without another word, the window slid up, and the SUV pulled away. The next day, I scrubbed in for what was once my signature procedure—a cardiac bypass. But when I reached the operating room, I found Seraphina there. Ethan, I learned, had pulled strings with the hospital board to make her lead surgeon. “So sorry, Ava,” Seraphina said, her smile a deliberate provocation. She was waiting for me to lose my temper. “There was a last-minute change. You’ll be assisting me today.” I simply shrugged. “That’s my job.” During the procedure, Seraphina made a critical error. A major artery was nicked, and blood began to flood the surgical field. The patient was hemorrhaging. If we didn’t get it under control, he would die on the table. In that moment of crisis, I took over. I pushed her aside and reclaimed my place as lead surgeon. After the marathon surgery, I stumbled home, collapsing into bed, dead to the world. I was jolted awake the next morning by a frantic call from my department head. “The patient from yesterday has severe complications! His family is raising hell, and it’s all over the internet. They’re saying you went rogue. What the hell happened, Ava?” I opened my phone. A news alert was glaring at me: [Military Hospital Assistant Hijacks Surgery, Kills Patient in Reckless Bid for Promotion!] Below the headline was a damning photo: me, at the head of the operating table, which was soaked in blood. “This is a doctor? Trampling on a patient’s life just to get ahead!” “I can’t believe they let people like her near a scalpel. She should be in jail!” The comments were a torrent of venom and hate. I stared at the screen, fighting to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Seraphina messed up. I had to take over. The surgical recording will show everything.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” I choked out, “but it wasn’t because of my technique.” My boss sounded defeated. “I tried to pull the recording the moment this broke, Ava. It’s been corrupted. The file is gone.” “Find out who else was in the OR,” he continued. “We’ll get their statements, try to piece together the truth.” I hung up and was about to head out when another notification popped up. Seraphina had just released a public statement: “While I was the lead surgeon in name, Dr. Ava Ross performed the entirety of the actual procedure. The responsibility for this tragic outcome is not mine.” In the next second, my phone exploded with a tidal wave of new hate mail and death threats. Her statement had sealed my fate. Even if my colleagues backed me up, the public wouldn’t care. Without the surgical recording or a confession from Seraphina herself, I was guilty. I didn’t go back to the hospital. I called Ethan. I called him again and again, but he never picked up. Finally, I drove to the exclusive housing on base, only to be blocked by the guards at his door. By the time I managed to climb up to his bedroom window, night had fallen. I was about to force it open when I heard sounds from inside. Muffled, wet sounds mingled with ragged breaths. Again and again, the frantic, desperate rhythm of it went on and on. I froze, clinging to the window ledge. I stood there all night, listening to the man I had loved for so long find his passion with someone else. As the first light of dawn broke, I finally moved my numb, frozen limbs and waited by his front door. When Ethan finally emerged, the first thing I saw was the wet, red mark on his neck. My eyes were bloodshot from a sleepless night. I stumbled to my feet. “I need to see Seraphina.” His voice was cold, dismissive. “Seraphina is just getting established at the hospital. She can’t take the blame for this.” He looked at me, his face a mask of impatience. “You take the fall for now. I’ll make it up to you later.” The color drained from my face. I stared at him, barely recognizing the man in front of me. Was this the same principled uncle I had known? He had defended our country’s borders, but he had lost his own moral compass. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “So, what you’re saying is, Seraphina can take a life, face no consequences, and an innocent person has to pay for her crime?” Ethan was silent for a moment, rubbing his temples in irritation. “You were the second assistant. The most renowned cardiac expert in the entire hospital. You failed to assist her properly. How are you innocent?” “Look,” he said, trying a different tactic. “You’ve always wanted to travel abroad with me, right? Once things settle down, I’ll take you.” My mother always told me that traveling with someone you love was the best way to grow closer. I had begged Ethan to take me on a trip countless times. He always agreed, then postponed it for work. Now, after everything, after all the arguments and broken trust, the offer felt like a cruel joke. I reached up and unclasped the bullet shell necklace from around my neck. He had put it there himself the year my parents died and he took me in. He told me this casing had once grazed his heart, that it was special. He promised that as long as he was alive, he would protect me with his life. And if he was gone, the shell would watch over me in his place. I placed it gently in his hand. I looked him straight in the eye, a sense of release washing over me. “Here, you should have this back. Thank you, Uncle, for taking care of me all these years. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.” “You’ve long since repaid any debt to my parents. From now on, let’s keep our distance, Mr. Shepherd.” My story with Ethan Shepherd was over. His willingness to protect another had trampled on my dignity and my deepest beliefs. I wasn’t so pathetic that I could just smile and accept it. I paid an enormous settlement to the patient’s family and submitted my resignation to the hospital. At the airport, my old department head saw me off, his expression pained. “Ava, you’re the most talented surgeon I’ve ever seen. It’s a tragedy about that incident…” I shook my head gently. “It’s in the past.” He sighed. “If only that recording hadn’t been destroyed… But with your skill, you’ll shine no matter where you go.” “I will,” I promised with a smile. I took one last look at the city I had called home for over two decades and turned toward the boarding gate. Ten years of knowing him, seven years of loving him. I could finally let him go. Ethan Shepherd. Goodbye, forever. Just as the plane began to accelerate down the runway, my phone, which I thought was off, began to vibrate and ring with frantic, unstoppable intensity. 2 Meanwhile, Ethan Shepherd pushed open the door to my apartment. “Ava, about what’s online…” His words died in his throat. The apartment was hollow, empty. He strode through the rooms, his heart beginning to pound. The closet doors were open, most of your clothes gone. The photo of them on the desk had vanished. “Ava?” His voice trembled slightly. “Commander? What is it?” His aide, hearing the commotion, hurried in. “Where is she?” Ethan demanded, his voice sharp. The aide looked lost. “Miss Ross… maybe she just stepped out for some air?” Ethan bolted from the apartment, searching the surrounding streets, his calls echoing in the empty air. There was no sign of her. He finally collapsed onto the sofa in the study, his face pale. “Sir,” the aide said hesitantly. “Someone mentioned they saw Miss Ross leaving with a suitcase yesterday…” “Leaving? Where did she go?” Ethan shot to his feet. The aide shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. She got into a car…” Ethan lunged for the phone on the desk and dialed Ava’s number. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed has been switched off…” He slammed the phone down in frustration, his gaze falling on an envelope left on the desk. With trembling hands, Ethan tore it open. A single sheet of paper fell out. He unfolded it, her familiar handwriting swimming before his eyes: Uncle Ethan, By the time you read this, I’ll be overseas. Thank you for raising me all these years. I wish you and Miss Vance a lifetime of happiness. Ava. He crushed the letter in his fist, a sharp pain lancing through his chest. He looked around the room, every corner a ghost of a memory he’d shared with her. How could someone who had been a part of his life for over a decade just vanish? He strode to the safe hidden behind a bookshelf and punched in the code. Inside lay a single photograph of him and Ava. In it, a much younger Ava was beaming, and he was looking down at her with an expression of pure, unguarded tenderness. That was the day she first called him “Uncle.” Ethan’s hand shook as he held the photo, his eyes stinging. The memories came flooding back. Ten-year-old Ava, a newly orphaned little girl, arriving at his family home. A tiny sprite hiding behind his legs, shyly calling his father “General.” Fifteen-year-old Ava, playing guitar in the garden on the base, sunlight catching in her hair, a vision so beautiful it stole his breath. Her eighteenth birthday, when she’d confessed her feelings, her face flushed, and he’d panicked and pushed her away… Ethan shook his head, trying to force himself back to the present. “Sir,” the aide said softly from the doorway. “Major Hayes called just now. He said…” “Said what?” Ethan spun around. The aide flinched. “He said that he and Miss Ross have landed safely in London…” Before the aide could finish, Ethan was already out the door. “Get me on the next flight to London!” he roared at his adjutant over the phone. “But Commander, you have the strategic briefing tomorrow morning…” “Cancel it!” Ethan snapped. “Cancel everything!” Hanging up, he gripped the photograph, his eyes a storm of pain and resolve. “Ava,” he whispered. “I’m not letting you go that easily.” At London’s Heathrow Airport, Ethan emerged from customs, haggard and exhausted. He hadn’t slept a second during the fourteen-hour flight. He pulled out his phone and dialed Leo Hayes’s number. “Leo. Where is she?” “Well, well, Commander Shepherd?” Leo’s voice was lazy and dripping with sarcasm. “Finally remembered you have a ‘niece’?” Ethan’s fist clenched. “Tell me where Ava is.” “Tsk, tsk. I don’t take orders from you, Commander.” “Leo!” Ethan roared. “Hey, calm down,” Leo chuckled. “I’m her boyfriend now. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” “I’m her legal guardian. I have a right to know her whereabouts.” “Guardian?” Leo scoffed. “You did a bang-up job of that, didn’t you? Chased her halfway across the world.” “I didn’t chase her anywhere!” “Oh really?” Leo drew out the word. “Then what about the online mob, the doxing? Where was her ‘guardian’ then?” Ethan fell silent. “What, cat got your tongue? Or do you need me to remind you what Ava’s life has been like for the past few months?” “Leo,” Ethan ground out between his teeth. “Don’t make me ask again. I want to see Ava.” “Commander, are you forgetting something? Oh, that’s right. You’re engaged.” “My engagement to Seraphina has nothing to do with Ava.” “Trying to have it both ways, Commander? Impressive.” “What did you say?!” “Don’t get mad,” Leo said breezily. “I’m just stating the facts.” “Leo, tell me where she is. Now.” “Sorry, Commander. That’s a secret between me and Ava. Can’t help you.” “I’ll make you regret hiding her from me!” Ethan bellowed. “Yeah, right,” Leo mocked. “Why don’t you go back and plan your wedding, Commander? Stop bothering me and Ava. We’re living together now. And we’re very happy.” “LEO!” The line went dead.

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