On my way to pick up my son from school, I scrolled through a thread on a popular forum. “What’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done?” The comments were a wild mix. Some people confessed to affairs, others to streaking through a park. The discussion was lively. I swiped past, uninterested. Until a familiar profile picture caught my eye. Her answer was about how she’d ruined a girl’s life with a single sentence. “She was my boss’s fiancée, young and beautiful.” “The night before her wedding, she was kidnapped. My boss sent me to deliver the ransom.” “I suggested we wait a few days. Let a little hardship teach her to behave.” “Turns out she couldn’t handle it. The kidnappers broke her mind. She ended up in a psychiatric hospital.” “This is her third year locked away.” “And me? I finally married my boss.” That one word, finally, dripped with the sweet satisfaction of a long-nurtured plan. It felt like a challenge, three years in the making. 1 The thread was popular. In just a few minutes, her comment had been voted to the top. Sarah had even posted a picture. Two hands, fingers intertwined. On them were the wedding rings I had designed myself but never had the chance to wear. “I don’t think I did anything wrong,” she continued in a reply. “If I had to do it a hundred times over, I’d make the same choice every time.” “After all, I’m the only one in this world who deserves him.” “Not some spoiled, pampered princess who only knows how to cry.” She wrote about the struggles she and Martin Vance had overcome together, how they had propped up a struggling company. She painted a picture of late nights, working side-by-side, relying on each other. But she never mentioned where Martin’s startup capital had come from. It wasn’t time to pick up Leo yet. While waiting at a red light, a dozen more replies popped up. Some called her shameless, warning her that what goes around comes around. Others argued it wasn’t her fault, that I was just mentally weak. Then, someone managed to dig up her identity and found the photos that had gone viral all those years ago. Staring at the grainy image, I felt a jolt. It was like peering through a crack in time. I saw her again—the lost, helpless girl from three years ago. Me. Stripped naked and thrown onto the street. Walking, bare and exposed, into the glare of the media’s flashbulbs. A stark contrast to the polished, radiant Sarah standing proudly at Martin’s side. Martin had spent a fortune to scrub the story from the headlines, but the humiliation was forever seared into the memory of the internet. The light turned green. I sighed and pressed the accelerator. By the next intersection, her comment had been deleted. But a new text message had appeared on my phone, sent five minutes ago. “Eliza, are you okay?” The number was unfamiliar. There was no name. But in this world, only one person ever called me Eliza in that particular way. I hesitated for a moment, then deleted the message. His concern had come three years too late. Whether I was okay or not had long ceased to be his business. The car moved forward. I had no time to look back. Only sometimes, when the autumn leaves swirled past my windshield, would I remember a life that felt a million miles away. 2 Before I turned twenty-three, I had never known a day of hardship. I was the jewel of my family, a princess in the city’s high society. A chauffeur drove me everywhere; housekeepers attended to my every need. Even my arranged marriage was to Martin Vance, the handsome and brilliant rising star of the elite. Everyone used to say it. “Eliza Chen has a charmed life. She’s the brightest star in the city.” That all ended the night before my wedding, when I was taken. They demanded an astronomical ransom from my family. Eighty million dollars. But I wasn’t afraid. My parents adored me. Martin had sworn he’d marry no one else. They would liquidate every asset they had to bring me home safely. At first, the kidnappers were almost polite. But on the seventh day, a bucket of ice-cold water woke me from my dream. One of them grabbed me by the hair and kicked me to the floor. “Your family said they couldn’t pay. So what the hell is this?” I looked up. On the television was Martin’s triumphant face. He was standing next to Sarah at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. The screen behind them blazed with a headline: “Vance Industries Celebrates Initial Success, Secures Further $80 Million for New Project.” Eighty million. The exact amount. The kidnappers let me make one last call to Martin. When the line connected, it was Sarah’s voice that answered. “Mr. Vance is busy. May I ask who’s calling?” “Oh, it’s you, Miss Chen. He’s unavailable.” Her voice then became a playful murmur, clearly meant for someone in the room with her. “Oh, Martin, stop it… the press conference is about to start. You’re wrinkling my dress, how am I supposed to face the reporters…?” The line went dead, cutting off the intimate sounds. It was a silent declaration from Martin. Between love and ambition, he chose ambition. Between me and Sarah, he chose Sarah. I stood there, frozen, unable to process it. I didn’t notice the way the kidnappers’ eyes had changed as they looked at me. On the eighth day, the ransom didn’t arrive. They broke one of my fingers as a warning. Martin didn’t respond. He didn’t yield. On the ninth day, the ransom still hadn’t arrived. They filmed me while they violated me, threatening to ruin my name forever. Martin remained silent. That afternoon, his company released a formal statement. “Vance Industries will never bow to criminals.” On the tenth day, my parents announced they were liquidating their assets in the country and moving overseas. I had been completely abandoned, an asset that had lost its value. The kidnappers were furious. Their rage turned on me. They used every method they could think of to torture and humiliate me. By then, both they and I were clinging to one last, desperate thread of hope. That someone, anyone, would come. But no one did. While I was imprisoned, Martin and Sarah grew closer. The news was full of them. Attending galas, hosting events. Clinking champagne glasses, basking in the glow of success. Every financial news channel was reporting on it. Martin’s investment was a massive success. He was on track to become the wealthiest man in the city. A golden road stretched out before him. A pack of ravenous demons was behind me. They unleashed all their rage and frustration on my body. Whips, daggers, branding irons, and steel needles. I was begging for life and praying for death. On the fifteenth day, I found a chance and I ran. I can’t recall the pain or the obstacles of that escape. I just remember running. Running until my feet were numb, until my wounds split open, until I was running on nothing but my last breath. Just as I was about to collapse, to give up, a sound drifted through the air. Music. It pointed the way. 3 I didn’t care that I was naked. I didn’t care about dignity or shame. All I wanted was to live. But when I stumbled into the clearing, I saw Martin. He was with Sarah, hosting a charity event in a rural town. It was a huge spectacle, swarming with reporters. How perfect. He had money for investments, for charity, but not to ransom his own fiancée. He had time for press conferences and interviews, but not to save his own fiancée. He was here, soaking in praise and applause, while he had left me to suffer every imaginable horror at the hands of monsters. I stood there, naked and frozen, a grotesque clown at their party. I let them all stare at the canvas of wounds that covered my body. In that moment, every camera turned to me. Martin’s face went cold. He didn’t ask if I was hurt. He didn’t ask what I had been through. He only said one thing. “Eliza, what kind of scene are you making?” A scene? A scene? So all the pain, all the torture I had endured… In his eyes, it was just a tantrum, a desperate bid for attention. My blood and my scars were less important to him than a speck of dust on the ground. I stumbled toward him, sobbing. “Why? Why didn’t you save me?” “Why? I’m your fiancée! We grew up together, we were supposed to spend our lives together…” My voice broke. “I’m… I’m carrying…” Before I could finish, Martin cut me off, his voice cold and hard. In front of everyone, he pushed my hand away. His gaze was heavy, a complex mix of emotions I couldn’t decipher. “Eliza, why can’t you just learn to behave?” he said. “The moment I got the news, I sent Sarah to negotiate. I told you that once this busy period was over, the money would be sent. You were never in any real danger. Why do you have to be so dramatic?” Who would use their own life, their own dignity, for drama? I stared at the man I had loved since I was a child, my mind reeling in disbelief. But even as the last of my tears dried on my cheeks, his expression never softened. He just seemed vaguely annoyed that I had disrupted his charity event. Finally, someone wrapped me in a blanket and led me away. Sarah came over, feigning concern. But as she did, she deliberately pulled down the silk scarf from her neck, revealing a fresh love bite on her skin. “Curious, aren’t you?” she whispered. “Wondering why your parents didn’t come to save you?” “Wondering why Martin’s attitude toward you has changed so drastically?” Her voice was a venomous caress. “Because… you’re not their daughter.” Sarah told me everything. The day the ransom note arrived, my parents were frantic. They were ready to liquidate everything to save me. But Martin stopped them. He produced a paternity test. It proved I was an imposter, a baby switched at birth by a vengeful nanny. The real heiress, their true daughter, had died years ago from that same nanny’s abuse. That revelation stopped my parents in their tracks. The jewel of the family… was a fake. Years of love made it impossible for them to completely abandon me. But the knowledge that they had raised their daughter’s killer—or at least, the child who had taken her place—paralyzed them. Torn, they did the only thing they could. They left me a dowry of eighty million dollars and entrusted my care to Martin. In their minds, they had done their duty. They just never imagined Martin could be so ruthless. He took that eighty million—my dowry, my ransom, my life savings—and poured it into his new project. It made him a tycoon. It made him a legend. And it left me to be tortured until I had nothing left. That day, I cried until I had no tears left. When I looked up, Martin was standing over me. He was silhouetted against the light. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could see the necklace around his neck. It matched the one Sarah was wearing. He looked down at me. “Eliza,” he said, his voice low. “I won’t abandon you just because of this… disgrace.” “But I want you to remember, you have no family to run back to anymore.” “If you want to marry me, if you want to be Mrs. Vance, you need to learn to behave.” Everyone told me this was his way of extending an olive branch. They said he knew my prideful nature, knew about my traumatic experience, and yet he was still willing to accept and forgive me. They said it was proof that he loved me. But all I heard was a threat. The old Eliza would have screamed. She would have raged. She would have burned the world down. But after being beaten into submission by fate, I was afraid. I realized my entire life was now in Martin’s hands. My future, my happiness, my very existence. It was all up to him. So, I did as he wished. I learned to behave. 4 At dinner, I pretended not to see the elegant, smiling Sarah sitting across from me. I silently swallowed every piece of food they placed on my plate. Even when my stomach churned. Even when my heart was hammering against my ribs. I didn’t dare show any disgust. I was too afraid. Terrified of that feeling of having nothing, of being completely at the mercy of others. Compared to the leaves and garbage I’d been forced to eat in that cage, swallowing the food on my plate was easy. I tried so hard to be the perfect, obedient wife-to-be, tucking away all my pride and my fire. But there was one thing I couldn’t do. I couldn’t bear Martin’s touch. His every caress, the sound of his breathing… It threw me back to those fifteen days in hell. It made me see the faces of my captors, feel their hands on me. I was terrified. Terrified of remembering. Terrified of the barely-healed scars being ripped open again. Whenever Martin came near me, whenever he touched me, I would start shaking uncontrollably. Then I would scream and scramble away, pushing him off me with all my strength. Martin never hit me, not like they did. He would just watch me, his voice cold and distant. “Eliza, haven’t you made enough of a scene?” I had lost the right to make scenes long ago. But I couldn’t speak, couldn’t meet his eyes. I could only curl into a ball in the corner, my arms wrapped tightly around myself, holding onto the last shreds of my dignity. The more I withdrew, the angrier he became. The night of his birthday, he was drunk. He yanked me to my feet, grabbing my face in his hands. “Say something! Why won’t you say anything?” he demanded. “You used to be the one who never shut up, who was always clinging to me. What is this, some act? Playing the untouchable saint?” “Is this still about that one little incident? How long are you going to keep this up?” His voice dropped to a low growl. “Eliza, why can’t you just learn to behave…” Something had set him off that night. He was determined to be with me. He tore at my clothes, his hands rough. He pinned me down, his mouth closing over mine. In that instant, the carefully buried terror erupted. The mattress beneath me became an iron cage. The man above me became one of my captors. It felt like every scar on my body was splitting open, dragging me back into that endless nightmare. I lost all reason. All that was left was the instinct to survive. In a blind panic, I grabbed the crystal vase from the nightstand and swung. Sarah burst in to find Martin on the floor, covered in blood. She made a huge show of it, calling the police, calling an ambulance. “Help! Somebody help!” she screamed. “Eliza’s gone insane! She’s trying to kill him!” And just like that, I was taken away by the police. Sarah produced the photos from the charity event, the ones of me naked and distraught. She claimed I’d had mental health issues for years. She had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. Martin handled all the arrangements. From setting up a trust fund to cover my expenses to arranging my meals, he took care of everything. Before they left, he looked at me. “Eliza,” he said. “You be a good girl in here, you hear me?” “When you’re better, I’ll come take you home.” Everyone knew it was a lie. The rumors about him and Sarah were already everywhere. He needed a plausible excuse to get rid of me, the inconvenient baggage from his past. So, I had to be the crazy one. … An autumn leaf drifted onto the windshield, and the school bell rang, pulling me back to the present. I looked up, searching the crowd of children for a familiar face. Instead, I saw Martin. He looked surprised, then a flicker of something like joy crossed his face. He hurried through the throng of parents toward me. “Eliza? What are you doing here?” “You were discharged? Why didn’t you call me? Do you have any idea…” Before he could finish, a small, cherubic boy ran up and hugged my leg. “Mommy, what took you so long?” “All the kids at school made a bet to see whose mom would pick them up first. I’m going to lose again!” I smiled and squeezed his cheek, about to comfort him. But it was Martin who spoke first, his eyes suddenly red. 5 He crouched down, his gaze fixed on Leo. His face was a canvas of shock and disbelief. “This is… your son?” “How… How is that possible…?” Martin’s eyes lifted from Leo to me. His deep-set gaze was filled with an emotion I couldn’t name. It was almost an accusation. As if he was demanding to know why I had kept something so important from him. And underneath, there was something else. Regret. As if he was finally realizing he had left both me and his child in that hell. But I knew Martin. Nothing—not me, not a child—would have changed his decision. Even if he had known I was pregnant back then, he still would not have come for me. I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of Leo. I took my son’s hand, lifted him into the car seat, and positioned my body to block Martin’s view. “Leo is my son. He has nothing to do with you.” “I hear you and Sarah are getting married soon. Congratulations.” “From now on, let’s live our own lives. Don’t contact me again.” The moment Martin had me committed, any relationship between us was over. After I was discharged, I gained access to a trust fund my parents had left for me. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to live comfortably. I didn’t need Martin. I didn’t need anyone. I just wanted to cut all ties with the past. Leo, always observant, sensed the strange tension between us. He glanced curiously at Martin but stayed quiet, obediently fastening his seatbelt. As I turned to close the door, Martin’s hand shot out, bracing it open. The door frame bit into his flesh, drawing blood, but he refused to let go. “Now that you’re out, come home,” he said, his voice strained. “I promised your parents I’d take care of you. I can’t go back on my word.” The wedding ring on his finger caught the afternoon sun, glinting brightly. I stared at it for a moment, then gave a small, tired smile. I was useless to him now. Why was he still putting on this act? I sighed, my voice calm and even. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever we had ended three years ago. You have no responsibility or obligation to me.” A financial debt can be repaid. An emotional one is impossible to calculate. What he gave me, what he took from me… who could ever say? It was better to leave it all buried in the past. You have to look forward. Compared to the twisted wreckage of my past with Martin, I much preferred the quiet, simple life I had now. Martin just stared at me, searching my placid eyes for a spark of the vibrant, fiery Eliza he once knew. He found nothing. I was a stranger to him now. After a long moment, he looked down, his expression defeated. “I saw Sarah’s post,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.” It was the first time Martin Vance had ever apologized to me. He claimed he didn’t know the details of what had happened. He said he was so consumed with the new project that he had delegated all the “minor” issues to Sarah. He never imagined she would twist his words, that she would deliberately delay things. “She said with our families’ influence, no one would ever dare to actually harm you.” “She said you had a temper, that it would cause trouble for you later in life. She thought this would be a good lesson for you, a way to make you learn to behave.” His voice cracked. “I never thought it would go so far. I never knew how much it hurt you…” Did he not know, or did he not want to know? In fifteen days of captivity, he never once called to check on me himself. In three years in that hospital, he never once came to visit. His love was a thin, cheap veneer. Something to pass the time when he was bored. I didn’t need it. I didn’t want it. This time, it was my turn to push his hand away. “Martin, we’ve known each other since we were children. I know you better than anyone. I know your temper, your ambition, your stubborn pride. That’s why I want nothing more to do with you.” My voice was firm, final. “I’ll say it one last time. Leo is not your son. If you don’t believe me, go get a paternity test.” “Now please, stop interfering in our lives.” I slammed the car door shut, sealing out the sound of his voice, sealing out the past. Leo watched me carefully from his seat. Seeing that I was calm, he asked tentatively, “Mommy, who was that man?” “Was he your boyfriend a long time ago?”

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1 It was New Year’s Eve. I’d just dropped off my last ride when a G-Wagon rear-ended me. The driver was Serena Croft, a ghost from my past. She stormed over, her impatience shifting to disbelief as she looked at me. “Ethan Vance… are you a man or a ghost?” she whispered. I slid my driver’s license forward. “You have the wrong person, ma’am.” Her eyes sharpened. “Don’t play dumb. I’d know you if you were ash.” Though her voice was harsh, her eyes shone. I felt a bitter twist of old pain, but before I could speak, Julian Thorne appeared behind her. He glanced at my right leg with open contempt. “Serena, our parents are waiting. Just pay him and let’s go. We don’t need a cripple trying to cause trouble.” The words died in my throat. As a former stepbrother and an ex-lover, a disabled man with a rape conviction had no place in Serena Croft’s world. The other drivers, my co-workers, started gathering around, trying to smooth things over. “Ethan’s not the type to shake people down. He’s a good guy…” Another one tugged at my arm, whispering, “She’s driving a G-Wagon, man. Doesn’t matter whose fault it is, it’s our fault. Just apologize.” Serena’s knuckles were white where she gripped her dress. She stared at me, her eyes growing redder by the second. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” The glare of surrounding headlights made my head throb. I closed my eyes for a long moment, then spoke, my voice a rasp. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” In an instant, her expression shifted. The wounded sorrow vanished, replaced by the same sharp, aggressive woman I remembered from years ago. She turned her head with a cold laugh, then lunged forward and grabbed me by the collar, her eyes glinting dangerously. “John West, is it? You just wait.” She gave me one last deep, unreadable look before letting Julian wrap an arm around her waist and lead her back to their car. The engine roared to life. It wasn’t until the taillights disappeared down the street that I clutched my chest and finally let out a long, ragged breath. Five years. Five years since I’d last seen her. The pain I’d buried deep came coiling back like a venomous vine. Knowing her, this wasn’t over. Sure enough, at ten o’clock that night, the call came from the cab company. “John, don’t bother coming in tomorrow. We got a complaint about you driving with a disability. The company can’t take that risk.” “I’ll give you severance. The money will be in your account by morning. Consider this your last night.” I held my breath, clinging to a final, foolish sliver of hope. “Who filed the complaint?” “Some guy named Thorne. The woman was even worse. Threatened to report us to the IRS if we didn’t fire you.” A small-time operation like ours wouldn’t survive an audit. I forced a bitter laugh, said a few words, and hung up. Sitting in the damp, mildewed corner of my room, I felt like I was back in the sweltering heat of that afternoon five years ago. All because I had refused Serena’s demand that we start dating, she had gone to my father and told him I, her step-brother, had “improper thoughts” about her. That night, my father broke three steel pipes over my back in the grand hall of our family home. The skin split, the bones fractured. My step-mother cried and tried to intervene, but my father’s eyes were filled with a righteous fury. “I’ll beat the filth out of this animal until he learns his place!” As they carried me to the hospital, Serena followed behind, a triumphant smile on her face. “Julian was right. You have to be cruel to break someone who plays hard to get.” The pain was so blinding I didn’t fully register her words at the time. But from that day on, Julian Thorne became a constant presence in our lives. The next day, I called my old contacts, trying to find another driving gig. The answer was always the same sigh. “Did you piss someone off, Ethan?” “They hear your name and just shake their heads. They’re afraid of getting hit with an audit. Maybe you should lay low for a while?” I knew it was her. She was squeezing me, trying to force me to admit who I was, to come crawling back to her. I looked at my reflection in the mirror—prematurely gray, exhausted, a broken body. I was no longer the “Star of the Force,” the most promising young cop in Port Sterling. Was this twisted game of hers even worth playing? A loud, insistent knocking at the door startled me. I dragged my prosthetic into place and opened it. Serena stood there, a cigarette dangling from her fingers, her eyes cold. “Ethan Vance. You’re coming back home with me.” “We’ll forget the past. We can start over.” She reached out, her pale fingers tracing the line of my jaw, her expression one of profound love. The words were so absurd, I wanted to laugh. And I did. “The person you love most?” Serena nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes.” “Then what about Julian Thorne? The news of your engagement is everywhere.” I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. “I thought you were dead… They all said you died in that explosion. I had to…” “You had to what? Play the grieving lover while you were screwing Julian Thorne?” My words turned her helpless expression to pure rage. “You were dead! What else was I supposed to do?” she shrieked, her chest heaving. She looked exactly as she had the day she found out I’d enrolled in the police academy. Back then, we had been secretly dating, hiding our relationship from our parents. I couldn’t say if it was love that had grown over time or if she’d simply won me over with the taste of her mother’s homemade cooking. My father’s beating had backfired; after I healed, we became inseparable. She would laugh and run her fingers through my hair, sneak into my bed in the middle of the night to hold me. Those first green shoots of a future, of a life together, had just begun to break through the soil. And then they were crushed. The night I got my acceptance letter from the academy, she stared at me in shock. “You’re not going abroad with me?” I shook my head, trying to reason with her. “The family business will be yours one day. I want to inherit my uncle’s badge number.” I braced myself for a fight. Instead, she was unnervingly calm. She just told me to take care of myself and left for Europe alone. Years later, she returned. At her welcome-home party, she stood before our families and the city’s elite, pointing to her torn dress, and accused me of attempted rape. She showed them the bruises on her neck, on her arms. The marks of our lovemaking from the night before had become the weapons used to destroy me. My step-mother screamed at me, calling me a disgusting animal. My father, without asking a single question, slapped me across the face again and again. The city’s high society watched, pretending to intervene while whispering that I was playing some sick game, using a taboo relationship to get back at my father for his own past infidelities. I grabbed Serena by the throat, demanding to know why. Why was she lying? She whispered, so only I could hear, “Ethan, I’m doing this for your own good!” Then, her voice rose to a scream. “I have proof! I’m not lying!” Right on cue, Julian Thorne burst in with a lab report. “The DNA found on Serena’s person has been confirmed. It belongs to Ethan Vance.” Serena collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “Brother, please… don’t keep doing this…” Overnight, I became a pariah. The step-brother molester. The rapist. The promising young cop was now a cockroach to be crushed. My father, in his rage, refused to listen to a word I said. He had me charged and put on trial, determined to see me “reflect” in a prison cell. In the end, it was Serena who signed the victim’s statement, agreeing to drop the charges. The day I was released, she was waiting for me, her laughter bordering on hysterical. “Stop fighting me. You can’t be a cop anymore. Just relax and be my man.” I stared at her beautiful, triumphant face and felt a chill cut straight to my bones. I turned away and pointed to the door of my small apartment. “Get out. You’re not welcome here.” She just laughed again, pulling a document from her purse and tossing it at me. “See this? I bought the building. This is my house now.” Her voice softened, pleading. “I told you, I still love you. If you just come back to me, Julian and I will only ever be friends.” My fists clenched so hard I bit through my tongue to keep from screaming. “What the hell do you want from me? Can you and Julian Thorne just get out of my life? Can you just leave?” “I don’t want to see you! Not for the rest of my life!” I used to think time healed all wounds. What a fucking lie. The betrayal of the woman I loved. The distrust of my own father. The death of my dream, the ruin of my body… Everything I was, everything I had, was destroyed by her. And she has the gall to stand here and tell me she still loves me? I laughed, a raw, broken sound that shook my whole body. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. The anger that had been rising in Serena’s eyes died when she saw the wetness on my cheeks. She reached out to touch me, but I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me! What’s it going to be this time? Are you going to accuse me of a second rape?” The color drained from her face. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. I held her gaze as I reached down and unfastened the buckle on my thigh. I yanked the prosthetic off and hurled it against the far wall of the hallway. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound echoed in the dead silence. Serena’s eyes widened in horror, fixed on the empty space where my right leg used to be. A strangled, gasping sound escaped her throat. My voice was a ragged whisper, laced with the bitter satisfaction of revenge. “Unfortunately, this broken body probably can’t give you what you want.” A moment later, a choked, sobbing question cut through the air. “Your leg… what happened to your leg?” Yes. What happened? I stood in the shadows, letting the tears and snot run freely down my face. By signing that statement, Serena had become the family’s savior. That same day, my father announced she would be the new heir to the family corporation. She ascended to the very pinnacle of Port Sterling’s elite. Not long after, I got a call. Serena had been kidnapped. I’d crossed paths with this crew before. I knew they were ruthless. They didn’t negotiate; they just killed their hostages. Her voice on the phone was terrified. “Ethan, I was wrong, I’m so sorry, please, come save me!” “I didn’t want you to be a cop because I was afraid you’d get killed… I love you so much, I couldn’t let you die…” I thought my heart was too scarred to feel anything. But hearing her cry, I softened. I contacted my old unit while I gathered the ransom money and went to the drop point alone. But when I got there, only Julian Thorne was waiting. “Where’s Serena?” I demanded. He turned slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ethan Vance, you really are a fool. The kidnapping was fake. The ransom was fake.” “The only real thing is your death. There’s a bomb three feet in front of you. Move, and it goes off.” My police instincts screamed. “Who are you?” He smiled. “Let’s just say I’m the drug lord you’ve been hunting. The one they call ‘Thorne.’” “You’ve been looking for me for so long. And here I was, right beside your precious Serena the whole time. In fact, turning you into a rapist? That was my idea.” He savored the look of horror on my face, then held out his phone. On the screen, Serena was straddling him, her face flushed with pleasure. In the video, Julian asked, “Aren’t you worried Ethan won’t come back tomorrow?” Serena laughed. “They won’t kill him. They’ll just rough him up a bit. He’s tough, he won’t die.” The rest of the video was a sickening mix of their moans and laughter. “While you were waiting for her back home,” Julian sneered, “we were in bed together every night in Europe. That little toy you bought her before she left came in very handy for me…” My hands balled into fists. “I’ll give you a chance,” he said magnanimously. “Call her. If you can convince her to come save you, I’ll let you go.” I looked at the smug bastard, dialed Serena’s number, and spoke the moment she answered. “Serena, listen to me. Julian is a liar. He’s a drug lord. He’s set a trap for me. Call the police, now!” There was a pause on the other end, then a cold laugh. “Ethan, stop trying to drive a wedge between Julian and me. Just because he helped me, you don’t have to slander him like this.” “So you’ll believe him, even if it means I die?” “Die first. Then we’ll talk.” She hung up. In my final moments, she chose him. Then, the bomb went off. “I survived,” I told the woman standing in my hallway, “but I lost a leg. I became ‘John West’ and lived like a stray dog. And now you’ve found me, just to grind me further into the dirt. Are you satisfied?” Compared to my calm, Serena was frantic. She shook her head, her voice trembling. “No… Julian wouldn’t do that…” People only believe what they want to believe. Even with me standing before her, a crippled wreck, she still believed him. But it didn’t matter anymore. I picked up my prosthetic. As I turned to leave, she grabbed my sleeve. “You can stay. I’ll go…” I was exhausted. The stump of my leg ached. I just turned and shut the door in her face. When I woke up, I wasn’t in my bed. I was in a deserted field. Julian Thorne smiled, squatting down beside me. “Ethan Vance, you’re a hard man to kill. But this time, you die for good.” He brought his foot down, grinding his heel into what was left of my right leg. Then the clubs and pipes began to fall. Pain crashed over me from all directions. The feeling of suffocation was absolute, my ribs splintering under the blows. I passed out, only to be woken by fresh agony. Every bone in my body screamed. My eyelids were glued shut with blood. My fingers twitched, closing around the tiny GPS locator hidden under my thumbnail. “This bastard cost us a lot of good men,” one of them snarled. “Can’t believe he’s still alive. Finish him!” Another kick slammed into my head. As my consciousness faded, I thought I heard Serena’s voice coming from a phone nearby. “Julian, Ethan’s leg… was that you?” “It was me,” he said. “But only because I love you so much…” There was a long silence on the phone, then a sigh. “Well, don’t do it again. I’ll send him some money to make up for it.” Hearing her pathetic, self-serving “compensation,” I closed my eyes and smiled. It was a smile of pure release. The South Precinct was only a five-minute drive from here. They weren’t getting away. Uncle, rest in peace. The man who killed you… I got him for you. It just cost me my life.

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The day our daughter choked to death, I pulled out every one of my thorns. I became the proper, graceful wife Dylan had always wanted. I stopped hiring private investigators to follow him. I stopped storming into bars and flipping tables at midnight. I stopped forcing him to swear on his life that he would love me forever. So when I found a lipstick in his car, a shade I never wear, I just carefully put it aside for him. “This color is so hard to find,” I said with a placid smile. “Don’t forget to give it to her.” Dylan slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt. “Ava, you’re sick,” he seethed. “If you’re going to keep playing these passive-aggressive games, maybe we should take some time apart to cool off.” “Fine,” I said. “Let’s just get a divorce.” He stared into my calm, empty eyes, utterly stunned. 1 In the end, it was Dylan who broke first. He sighed, a look of pleading on his handsome face. “You know I don’t mean that. I just… I want you to stop misunderstanding me.” “Ava, I’ve changed. I really have.” He looked so pathetic now. A far cry from the cold, ruthless man who had pinned me by the throat a year ago, calling me a shrew. I smiled, my voice light. “Okay. I believe you.” He frowned, about to say more, but I had already put on my headphones. Dylan stepped on the gas, and the car sped toward the cemetery. It was the anniversary of his mentor’s death, and all his former students were there to pay their respects. Which meant the widow, of course, was there too. Rosalind, dressed in a chic black dress, was holding a little girl’s hand. The moment I saw that innocent face, a tide of buried pain and despair surged up, slicing at my heart. My eyes burned. I took an involuntary step forward. Dylan’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, his voice a low warning. “Ava, it’s been a long time. You’re the one who said you wanted to come. Don’t make a scene in front of all these people.” I smiled, and a hot tear splashed onto the back of his hand. He froze for a second, and in that moment, I pushed him away. “Did you really think I came to see your mentor?” I whispered. “I just came to see my Nora.” “Today’s her birthday.” All the tension went out of Dylan’s body. His shoulders slumped, and he seemed to age ten years in an instant. He was always telling me it was in the past. But it wasn’t. That year, my Nora was one year old. Rosalind’s daughter, Luna, stuffed more than a dozen chocolate candies into her mouth. Nora’s face turned blue, her tiny throat constricting, her limbs stiffening as she died in her cradle. I held her. Her body was so cold. No matter how many layers I wrapped her in, she was still so terribly cold. “Dylan, get her snowsuit,” I’d begged. “Hurry! What if she catches a cold?” I screamed his name a dozen times, my voice raw. But he just knelt at my feet, his face ashen. He was grieving too, broken by the loss. But even then, he was defending them. “Luna is only five. She couldn’t have meant to do it…” “Don’t call the police, Ava. I’m begging you.” In that moment, everything inside me shattered. The despair was a black hole in my chest. The grief was too vast, the pain too deep. It was far more than love could ever bear. 2 I met Dylan when I was shaking down local businesses for protection money. In the slum where everyone knew the only law was the strength of your fists, I had been thrown away as a child and had grown a tough hide and a thick skin to survive. But Dylan wasn’t like that. His father had died in an accident, the compensation was never paid, and his mother had been forced to move them there. The hardship was too much for her. Less than a year later, she ran off with the man who owned the corner store. I’d walked in to collect my fee just in time to see her leaving. I grinned at Dylan. “Looks like your mom doesn’t want you anymore. Welcome to the orphan club.” He tilted his chin up, refusing to cry, but his eyes were red-rimmed. This neighborhood saw families torn apart every day. I was barely surviving myself. But seeing the tears welling in his beautiful, defiant eyes, I forgot everything. “Hey, don’t cry. I’ll take you with me,” I said. “As long as I’ve got food to eat, you won’t starve.” Someone that beautiful shouldn’t be crying. He shouldn’t be left to rot in the filth of the slums. I gritted my teeth and took him in. In the years that followed, I did whatever it took. I scavenged, begged, performed street tricks, worked as a hostess in seedy bars… Everyone knew that for a hundred-dollar bill, Ava would get on her knees and call you daddy. I didn’t care about dignity. I only cared about getting Dylan out. He was a genius. Even in that hellhole, he aced his exams and got into a top university. I paid his tuition with money earned in ways I never wanted him to know, and I never dared to set foot on his campus. I was afraid his classmates would see me—trashy, rough, and reeking of the streets—and look down on him because of it. But Dylan would always take my hand and tell everyone, without a trace of shame, “This is the woman I love.” The first time we made love, I whispered in his ear, “Dylan, I can barely read. You’re so brilliant. How could you ever love someone like me?” He chuckled and kissed my damp hair. “You’re like a little hedgehog. All prickly and fierce with the world, but you use your spines to protect me.” “Where would I be without you?” he murmured. “From the day you took me in, I swore I’d give you the best life imaginable.” He kept his word. In four years, he graduated with honors, published several papers, and made breakthroughs in cutting-edge technology. He was hailed as a young prodigy, with top companies fighting to recruit him. Even I knew the gap between us was as vast as the gutter and the clouds. But on his graduation day, he proposed. “My little hedgehog, will you marry me?” I cried so hard I could barely breathe, repeating “yes” over and over. As our friends cheered, he held me close and kissed me deeply. The air filled with flying mortarboards, and all I could hear was the thunder of my own heart. It was the crescendo of our love story. I thought that happiness was just the beginning. I never imagined… I never imagined I would spend the rest of my life praying to go back to that day, just to change my answer. “No.” 3 After graduation, Dylan decided to pursue a postgraduate degree under a renowned academic titan, a Professor Quinn. One day, there was an accident. An explosion in the lab. Professor Quinn shielded Dylan with his own body and was killed instantly. At first, I was filled with guilt for Rosalind and her daughter, Luna. I went to their house every day, bringing gifts, helping with chores. Rosalind hated Dylan. She would scream at him, even hit him. He took all of it, silently enduring her rage and taking care of her every need. And somewhere along the way, that care turned into something else. One afternoon, I went to their house as usual, bringing a nourishing soup for Rosalind. I pushed open the living room door and froze. My husband was kissing his mentor’s widow on the sofa, their bodies tangled together. The throw pillows were soaked. My mind went blank. The thermos slipped from my fingers and crashed to the floor. When I came to my senses, I screamed and lunged at them, tearing them apart. I grabbed the thermos and threw the scalding soup at Rosalind. But it was Dylan who jumped in front of her, taking the brunt of it. They were both so calm. It made me look like the crazy one, the fool. “Ava, darling,” Rosalind said, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the wall, her robe slipping off one shoulder. She smiled lazily at me. “I’m all alone. The nights are so long, so lonely.” “You’re a woman. Surely you understand?” I was shaking with rage. I picked up a chair and threw it at her. “I understand my ass!” “That’s enough.” Dylan caught the chair, his eyes cold as ice. “Ava, don’t act like a shrew.” They were both so smart, so sophisticated. In their world of the elite, it seemed there were no rules, no morals. Anything was permissible. But I didn’t understand. I couldn’t accept sharing my husband with another woman. I made Dylan kneel and swear to me that he would never see Rosalind again. I held a knife to my own throat and threatened him, demanding he be home by six every night. I stood on the rooftop with our daughter in my arms and forced him to delete Rosalind from his phone in front of me. At first, he complied. Then he started making excuses to come home late. I caught him meeting her in secret, again and again. Finally, he stopped pretending altogether. After our fights, he would just get in his car and drive to her house, staying the night. My husband’s betrayal, my baby’s cries, the other woman’s taunts. I was stretched to my breaking point. The slightest thing would make me burst into tears. Once, Nora had a fever of 104, but he was at a parent-teacher conference for Luna. I took a craft knife to my arm again, bleeding onto the floor as I called and begged him to come home, to just look at our child. He just laughed on the other end of the line. “Stop lying, Ava. How many times are you going to pull this stunt?” “You’re not dead yet, are you?” His voice was cold, laced with amusement. “My little hedgehog, you can’t be naive forever.” 4 I knelt before Nora’s grave, letting the rain soak through my clothes. Dylan came up behind me, the umbrella silently appearing over my head. I wasn’t a good mother. The day Nora died, I was so busy fighting with Dylan and Rosalind in the living room that I didn’t even know my own daughter was choking to death upstairs. I pressed my forehead against the cold stone of her grave, as if it could bring me closer to her. Rosalind approached, holding Luna’s hand. Even nearing forty, she was still beautiful. She bit her lip, her expression one of fragile sorrow. “Ava, I am so sorry. I disciplined Luna harshly after it happened. We’re all family. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive her.” Luna bowed her head, her voice thick with tears. “I’m so sorry, Auntie Ava.” Then, she pulled something from her pocket and placed it on Nora’s grave. When I saw what it was, my entire body went rigid. It was a bag of chocolates. In an instant, a monstrous wave of grief and fury washed over me. I shot to my feet and slapped Luna across the face, hard. Rosalind shrieked, jumping in front of her daughter. “What are you doing? Why would you hit a child!” “Your child is a child, but mine wasn’t?!” Dylan grabbed me around the waist and dragged me away as I struggled and screamed. He pulled me into a secluded corner and held me tight, patting my back. “It’s okay, it’s all in the past…” “You’re pregnant now,” he murmured. “We’re going to have a new baby. Everything will be okay.” I looked at him, my eyes blank. “Dylan, the day Nora died… were the security cameras really broken?” He was silent for a long time before giving me the same answer he’d given me a year ago. “Yes.” “It’s been too long. The footage can’t be recovered.” I pushed him away and started to walk. “Don’t go after them,” he said, his voice tense. “She’s just a child, she doesn’t know any better. Rosalind explained it to me. Luna meant to bring cookies, she just grabbed the wrong bag by mistake.” He was terrified I would go back to their house and smash things, like I did right after Nora died. But I just turned and gave him a weak, tired smile. “Calling her Mrs. Quinn is so formal.” “She’s the love of your life, after all.” Dylan closed his eyes and sighed. He must be regretting it. Regretting not running away with Rosalind, regretting being stuck with a madwoman like me. Funny. I was regretting it too. Regretting giving him another chance to hurt me until there was nothing left. I went straight to the hospital. “Are you sure you want to terminate the pregnancy?” the doctor asked gently. “Your health is already quite poor. It might be very difficult for you to conceive again.” I nodded, numb. Dylan and I were not fit to raise a child. I lay on the operating table and let the cold steel cut into me. It was the next day when I finally returned home. I turned on my phone, and a flood of messages from Dylan poured in. “Honey, where are you? Please don’t do anything stupid.” Dozens of worried messages, followed by the last one. “Something came up at work. I have to go on a business trip for a few days. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” On social media, however, Rosalind was posting pictures of their happy family vacation. Dylan on the left, her on the right, Luna smiling between them. The background was Disneyland. Dylan’s guilt over her husband’s death had led him to give himself to them as compensation. What a fair trade. I smiled and blocked all of them. When Dylan came home, my bags were already packed. He saw the suitcase but didn’t seem surprised. He just knelt before me, his voice low and pleading. “Our baby can’t grow up without a father. And I can’t live without you.” “Please don’t go.” He looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed, the picture of a broken man. His tears used to work on me. But I was no longer the eight-year-old girl on the street, or the twenty-three-year-old new mother. I had seen enough of his act. I calmly pulled my hand from his grasp. “Dylan, the divorce papers are on the table. I had an abortion.” “And you… I don’t want you either.” “Let’s just end this.”

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1 I was sixty-seven when diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. My children fell silent, their eyes red. No one suggested abandoning me. Michael offered to provide money despite his busy work. Chloe said I could live with her—she could care for me while raising her daughter. I felt relieved. My years raising them alone hadn’t been wasted. But the disease progressed quickly. Within three years, I lost most of my clarity, often forgetting what I was doing. One sleepless night, I woke Chloe. She finally snapped, pulling me from bed. “Fine! Then no one sleeps!” After a moment, her shoulders shook with sobs. “Mom, can’t you give me a break?” she whispered. “I cook, clean, and help you all day. Can’t I just sleep at night?” She mumbled exhaustedly before whispering, almost inaudibly, “Why… won’t you just die…” Suddenly, my mind cleared—a flash in the fog. I couldn’t burden them any longer. “Okay,” I mumbled, clinging to that one clear thought. Chloe’s crying stopped instantly. She turned to look at me, frozen. A few seconds passed before she registered what I’d said. Tears, like pearls from a broken string, began to roll down her cheeks again, silent and steady. She wiped them away and gently tucked the blankets around me. “Mom…” Her lips parted, but her voice trembled as much as they did. In the end, only two words came out. “Never mind. Sleep.” She lay down on her side next to me, humming a gentle tune. I knew the song. It was the one I used to sing to her when she was little, the one that always lulled her to sleep. I forced my eyes shut, my mind already racing, planning. How could I leave tomorrow? It had to be quiet, without a fuss. Nothing too messy or traumatic. I didn’t want to scare my granddaughter, Olivia. She’d just started college. A trauma like that could cast a shadow over her whole life. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe the old lullaby worked its magic. Before long, I drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep. The next morning, I was awake before Chloe came to get me up. I could hear her in the living room, her voice a low murmur as she complained to her husband. “I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in ages.” Her husband’s voice was full of sympathy. “Why don’t we have Mom stay with Michael for a couple of months? It’s not that we don’t want to care for her, but it’s not fair for you to bear it all alone. She’s his mother too. Even if he’s paying more, he should still help out. Besides, with her illness… it’s not really about the money anymore.” Chloe sighed. “I’ll think about it. They’re just so busy.” After her husband left, Chloe came back into the room. I quickly squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. She woke me gently and helped me dress. She watched over me as I washed up, then placed breakfast on the table in front of me. “Take your time, Mom,” she said. “I have to take Liv to school.” Olivia lived at home while she was at college, coming back to stay the night now and then. But these past two years, I felt like her visits were getting shorter, the gaps between them longer. Sometimes it felt like I hadn’t seen her in half a year. I’d ask Chloe about it, and she’d always say, “What are you talking about? She was just here last weekend.” “You’re lying,” I’d mumble. “I don’t believe you. If she was here, why can’t I remember it?” At first, Chloe would argue back. “I’m not lying! Why would I lie about that?” Now, she just shakes her head with a sad little smile and leaves the room. That only made me more certain she was lying to me. I watched Olivia put on her coat, confused. “Liv, where are you going?” She gave me a thin smile. “To class, Grandma. Mom just told you.” I nodded. Right. School. I didn’t say anything else. For some reason, I had the feeling she didn’t like me very much anymore. There was an impatience in her eyes, a kind of forced politeness. I could still remember how she used to look at me when she was a little girl and adored me. Her eyes would be shining, sparkling with love. She would swing my hand back and forth, chanting “Grandma, Grandma!” She loved to cling to me, begging me to play with her, to tell her stories. The door clicked shut, and the house fell silent again. My gaze drifted around the room, finally settling on the breakfast in front of me. When did this get here? I didn’t remember bringing it to the table. How did it appear? I scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal, my hand trembling uncontrollably. Half of it splattered onto my lap before it ever reached my mouth. I looked down at the fresh clothes I’d just put on and reached for a napkin to wipe it clean. The oatmeal dissolved in my mouth. It was tasteless. I didn’t like it. I didn’t take another bite. I tossed the napkin into the small trash bin on the table and turned my head to stare out the window. I felt like there was something I needed to do. Something important. What was it? 2 It felt truly, terribly important. The harder I tried to remember, the more it slipped away, leaving me agitated and frustrated. What was I supposed to do? Leaning heavily on the cane beside me, I pushed myself to my feet. Shaky, step by step, I made my way to the front door. We lived on the ground floor, so even though walking was an effort, I could still get outside. I followed the road slowly, my steps shuffling along until I reached the small river at the edge of our neighborhood. The sun glittered on the water, the light so bright it was blinding. That’s right. Last night, when Chloe had suddenly flipped on the light, it had been just as jarring. “Why… won’t you just die…” The words echoed in my mind. I mumbled them under my breath as my feet began to move toward the water’s edge. “Ma’am, you can’t go any further!” a young woman called out from behind me. I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me. I didn’t know her. Why would she be calling to me? So I kept going. I was just one step from the edge of the bank when a hand landed on my shoulder, pulling me back. “Ma’am, be careful!” I stumbled back a few steps, and a young man caught me, steadying me from behind. I turned around, raised my cane, and swung it at him with all my might. “What are you doing? What do you want!” I shrieked. “Are you trying to push me in?” The young man dodged my frantic swings, looking at me like I was insane. “No good deed goes unpunished, I guess!” he muttered, and quickly walked away. The girl, however, ran over and took my arm gently. “Where do you live?” she asked softly. Where did I live? I squinted, trying to think. I couldn’t remember. “Do you have a phone? A cell phone?” I felt my pockets. “Yes.” The girl coaxed me over to a bench and sat me down. She made a few calls. Not long after, my son, Michael, rushed into the park. She spoke to him for a few minutes, and he nodded repeatedly, clearly thanking her. After she left, he came over and crouched down beside me. “Mom, why did you wander out by yourself?” he asked, his voice strained. “Where’s Chloe? Why wasn’t she with you?” I didn’t dare tell him why I’d come out. “Chloe took Liv to school,” I said. He sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. “Oh, Mom. Can you please stop running off like this? Have you already forgotten the last time you got lost? You promised you’d only go out when Chloe was with you!” He was about to say more when his phone rang. After he took the call, his expression darkened even more. “Great,” he snapped, ending the call. “There goes another client. Can you please stop making trouble for us? Just stay home! You’re wasting our time, you’re wasting our money. Can’t you see that?” I just stared at the shimmering water. This wouldn’t work. Someone would always find me. “Mom? Mom!” His voice grew louder. “I’m talking to you! Are you even listening to me?” I blinked, returning to the moment, and gave a slow, wooden nod. Michael ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his anger deflating into weary resignation. He took my arm and led me back to Chloe’s house. We had just stepped inside when Chloe rushed in, her face pale with worry. She looked me up and down, and a wave of relief washed over her when she saw I was unharmed. “Mom, what were you doing out there?” she cried. “Do I have to spell everything out for you now?” When I didn’t look at her or respond, she stepped directly in front of me, blocking my view. “I’m asking you a question! Have you completely lost your mind?” Before I could answer, Michael grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. “First, let me ask you what you were doing,” he said, his voice low and angry. “You promised you would take care of Mom. Is this how you do it?” 3 “My life doesn’t revolve around her! Am I supposed to just forget about Liv?” “Liv is practically grown! She’s not a child anymore! She can get to school on her own. Can Mom take care of herself?” Under his relentless questioning, Chloe finally exploded. “Fine! Blame everything on me!” she screamed, her voice breaking. “I’m the one who never sleeps, never gets a moment’s rest, and I’m still the one who gets blamed.” “If you’re so good at this, why don’t you take her to your house?” The more she spoke, the more the injustice of it all overwhelmed her, and she started to sob. “I… my wife and I are busy,” Michael stammered, knowing he was on shaky ground. His voice lost its aggressive edge. I shot him a glare and smacked his shoulder. “Stop bullying your sister!” He’d been doing it his whole life. One day he’d snatch her toys, the next he’d steal her snacks. And now he was yelling at her. “And what do you mean I can’t take care of myself?” Both Chloe and Michael froze. Michael looked down at the floor, silent. Chloe’s tears just flowed faster. My heart ached for her. I reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks, whispering in her ear. “There, there. We’ll just ignore your brother. Don’t cry, okay?” I soothed. “If he ever bullies you again, you tell me, and I’ll give him a good smack.” “Mom… he’s not bullying me…” Chloe shook her head, her hand covering mine and pressing it against her cheek. She rubbed her face against my palm, as sweet and pliant as she was when she was a little girl. But back then, I could always make her feel better. Now, the more I wiped her tears, the more they seemed to fall. “Alright, Mom, let’s go to the bathroom. You haven’t been all morning.” I shook my head. Every trip to the bathroom was an ordeal. Getting up and down from the toilet took so much effort. I didn’t even feel like I had to go. I didn’t understand why she was always trying to make me. “Come on, just try. Please.” “If you don’t, I’m not going to take care of you anymore!” Her face was stern, her voice a mix of threat and plea as she helped me into the bathroom. “What did I tell you?” On the adult diaper, a pale yellow stain stood out against the clean white fabric. She reached out to change it. “I didn’t pee!” “You didn’t? Then what’s this?” she asked, pointing at the pad. I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had no memory of it. I reached out a curious hand to touch it. If she was right, it should be wet. “Don’t touch it!” Chloe snapped. I pulled my hand back and stood quietly, letting her do what she needed to do. She was always like this, accusing me of things I hadn’t done. She said I couldn’t control my bladder, that I didn’t know when I was full or hungry. She even said I cursed at people. I never did. But it didn’t matter. If it made her happy to fuss over me, I would let her. That’s what I told myself. Once I was cleaned up, she helped me back to bed. The two of them stood just outside my door, their voices low whispers. Michael was apologizing. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I was just so worried.” “Maybe… maybe we should have her come stay with us for a while. Or… a nursing home?” The last two words were spoken softly, laced with hesitation. Chloe was silent for a few seconds. “Let’s just see. I can’t bear the thought of it. But if she keeps acting out like this, I don’t know how much more I can take. Look, the breakfast I made is still untouched. I have to worry about everything for her, coaxing her to eat, to sleep, to use the toilet.” “They say the elderly become like children, but she’s not as easy to fool as a child. She fights me every time I try to give her medicine. She won’t drink water, only juice. Her body can’t handle that!” “I can’t let this destroy me. I still have Liv.” A deep silence fell over the house. It was so quiet it scared me. “Chloe… Chloe…” I called out her name two or three times. She and Michael came back into the room together. “What is it, Mom?” I looked at her for a long moment, my lips moving without a sound. “Don’t get rid of me…” 4 “What?” They hadn’t heard me. They leaned in closer. I repeated myself, a little louder this time. “Don’t get rid of me. Don’t send me away. I’m scared.” Even though I often felt like Chloe was fussing over me for no reason, I also knew she was the one who cared for me with all her heart, the one who was truly good to me. Michael’s wife was too busy and didn’t much like me anyway, so I didn’t want to go to their house. And a nursing home… I wanted to stay away from a place like that even more. I wanted to stay here, at home, with the people I still recognized. “I’ll be good,” I promised. “I won’t wander off anymore…” Both of my children’s eyes filled with tears. Chloe reached out and stroked my cheek. “We won’t send you away, Mom. We won’t. We were just talking nonsense.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “You just get some rest. Be good, okay?” Her promise brought me a small measure of peace. “Tonight,” I said, “I want the sleeping medicine.” The doctor had prescribed sleeping pills for me a long time ago, but I never took them. I was convinced any pill was poison, and besides, I couldn’t seem to swallow them. But from now on, I had to be good. I couldn’t let my daughter worry about things like this anymore. Chloe agreed, and then she and Michael left the room again. “What do we do?” I heard her say. “Her mind is just… gone. She used to be such a strong, proud woman.” “I know,” Michael replied. “Remember when she hurt her back? She couldn’t even move on her own, but she refused to let us come over and help.” “Well…” A long sigh followed, and then silence again. I drifted back to sleep. That night, Chloe gave me a sleeping pill. But I didn’t take it. I just pretended. When she wasn’t looking, I slipped the small tablet under my pillow. It was my habit to sleep with my hand tucked there. As long as I could feel the pill, a little lump under the fabric, I would remember what I needed to do. I had to save them. Once I had enough, I wouldn’t have to be a burden anymore. A week passed quickly. Chloe started to notice something was wrong. I was supposedly taking my pill every night, but I still couldn’t sleep. I’d often start shouting that Michael wasn’t home yet, that I had to wait for him, to leave the door unlocked. She called the doctor. After some consideration, he increased my dose from one pill to two. My collection grew twice as fast. Finally, the night came. We had another fight, this time because I refused to eat dinner. “I’ve reheated this three times already!” Chloe’s voice was sharp with frustration. “Every time I ask, you say you’ll eat. Then I bring it to you, and you refuse. Are you just playing games with me?” She slammed the bowl down in front of me. “Eat! You haven’t eaten all day!” The food inside was chopped into tiny pieces. I hadn’t been able to chew properly for a long time. I still shook my head. Her patience was gone. “Fine! FINE! I’m done! I’m not taking care of you anymore! Live or die, I don’t care!” she yelled. “Isn’t it enough that I wait on you hand and foot all day? You don’t understand anything, so I try to help you, but you could at least listen, couldn’t you?” “If you had even a shred of pity for me, you wouldn’t torment me like this!” She stormed out, slamming her bedroom door behind her. I was left alone in the quiet room, my granddaughter Olivia, who had just come home, staring at me. “Grandma, please,” Liv pleaded gently. “Just eat a little bit. Why do you always have to fight with her? Can’t you just try not to make my mom so angry?” I gave a wooden nod. She was still a child. She didn’t understand. It was easier to just agree with whatever she said. Seeing my passive response, Olivia gave up and went to her mother’s room to try and calm her down. I heard Chloe’s voice, intentionally raised. “I’m not sleeping with her tonight. Let her sleep by herself.” Alone. Good. That would be better. I reached under my pillow. Alone in the quiet dark, a sense of peace settled over me. Sleep, a voice whispered. Just sleep, and it will all be over. And for the first time in a long time, I listened. The next morning, Chloe walked into my room, her face still set in a grim line. But she found me lying perfectly still in bed. So still, I wasn’t even breathing.

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Three months into my pregnancy, I was sued by my husband’s mistress. At the same time, she demanded I get an abortion. “As one woman to another,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “I’m giving you one last chance. Write a letter promising to cut off all contact with my husband, get rid of the baby, and I’ll drop the lawsuit. You won’t have to pay back a cent.” It took me a moment to process. She thought I was the other woman. A chill shot through me, but I forced my expression to remain calm as I looked at her. She mistook my silence for guilt, and her composure swelled with the confidence of a wronged wife. “You’re an educated woman. You don’t want me to blow this up and ruin your reputation, do you?” A cold, faint smile touched my lips. She had dug up everything about me, it seemed, except for one small, crucial detail: my marriage certificate. Just then, a text from Manny buzzed on my phone. “She has a very strong moral compass. If she finds out she’s the one on the side, she won’t be able to handle it.” “I’ll make it up to you. For now, you need to play along.” Those two short lines shattered what was left of my heart. My hands were steady as I pulled my marriage certificate from my purse and slid it across the table toward her. “Ma’am,” I said, my voice even. “It seems you missed something in your investigation.” 1 She flinched. Her face paled, and though her eyes were wide with disbelief, she snatched the document and flipped it open. As she read the registered information, her expression curdled. The hand holding the certificate began to tremble. I watched her in silence, but the storm raging inside me was just as violent as hers. This was the first time I’d ever had to deal with Manny’s infidelity. And, I decided in that moment, it would be the last. She slapped the certificate back down on the table, then, trying to regain her composure, opened her own purse. She pulled out an identical document and pushed it toward me. “Miss Collins,” she said, her voice strained. “Did you really think I’d come here without being absolutely sure of my position?” I picked it up. My own hands began to shake when I saw the date of registration. May 20th, 2021. The exact same day as mine. My heart shattered, the pain a suffocating weight in my chest. It was hard to breathe. “Are you trying to cover your tracks with a fake document?” Daisy, the mistress, still wore her mask of superiority. I met her gaze, refusing to back down. “Fake or not, why don’t you go home and ask your husband? Or maybe the three of us should have a little chat?” Daisy was clearly displeased with my tone. She saw it as a challenge. “Manny is a very busy man. I won’t let him waste his time on trivial matters like this,” she sniffed. “And I won’t let you manipulate me into distrusting him.” She seemed to be talking more to herself now, a strange mantra of self-assurance. “He’s a man, after all. Men of his status, wealthy and powerful… they all have a taste for trash on the side.” She spat the word ‘trash’ with deliberate venom. “The fact that I’m even here, talking to you, is a courtesy I’m extending to you as the other woman. But if you continue to shamelessly entangle yourself with my husband, then you’ll have only yourself to blame for what comes next.” Her final warning was delivered with eyes like shards of glass, waiting for me to break, to apologize, to surrender. I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Miss Monroe, has it ever occurred to you that you might be the ‘trash’ on the side?” “I think we’re both victims here,” I continued, my voice firm. “We shouldn’t be fighting each other. Manny is the one who created this mess. He’s the one who owes us an explanation, not the other way around.” She sneered, looking at me as if I were a cornered animal, all empty bravado. “Still think you’re the real wife? Heh. Fine. I’ll show you something that will make you shut your mouth for good.” She took out her phone and played a video. 2 On the screen, my mother-in-law, my husband, and my brother-in-law were celebrating with Daisy. A cake with five candles sat on the table. It was their fifth wedding anniversary. There was a little boy, maybe three years old, whom I didn’t recognize. But then the boy’s voice piped up, clear as a bell. He called Manny “Daddy.” He called Daisy “Mommy.” My mother-in-law clasped a diamond necklace, worth millions, around Daisy’s neck and called her “daughter” with a warm smile. My brother-in-law grinned and called her “sis.” I felt like I’d been plunged into an ice bath. The blood in my veins turned to slush, and a deep, searing pain spread through my entire body. Everyone knew. They all knew and supported Manny’s double life, and I was the only one playing the fool. Even now, with his secret exposed, Manny wasn’t worried or ashamed. He was afraid that I would hurt her. I never imagined that the husband who had always doted on me, who catered to my every whim, could do this to me. It felt like falling from a great height with nothing to break my fall, only the jagged, tearing pain of impact. Daisy stopped the video, her eyes fixed on me, triumphant. “Still want to keep fighting?” I blinked back the hot sting of tears, a bitter, self-mocking laugh escaping my lips. “No. I’m done.” “But,” I added, my voice hardening, “there’s something you need to see.” I showed her the text message Manny had just sent me. “She has a very strong moral compass. If she finds out she’s the one on the side, she won’t be able to handle it.” “I’ll make it up to you. For now, you need to play along.” The color drained from Daisy’s face. Her eyes flashed with rage, and a single, furious tear rolled down her cheek. She stabbed at her phone, dialing Manny’s number. “You tell me right now who the other woman is! Manny, you bastard! You get your ass over here right now and clean up your own damn mess!” She hung up before he could even speak. Her imperious tone told me everything I needed to know. This was a woman Manny spoiled rotten. Manny and I had been childhood sweethearts. We’d been together for ten years before we married, and in five years of marriage, I had never, ever spoken to him like that, no matter how angry I was. “I’m sorry,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a silk scarf. Her voice was suddenly soft, contrite. “I didn’t know he was lying to you. My behavior earlier was… out of line.” My blood ran cold. I stared at the scarf in her hand. It was the last piece my mother had ever designed before she died. Someone had once offered me five million for the design rights, and I had refused. I kept it in a special box in my closet, a treasured heirloom. It was my last connection to her. Whenever I missed her, I would take it out, hold it, and try to remember her scent. My hand shaking with fury, I snatched the scarf from her. “This was my mother’s,” I hissed, my eyes burning. “What are you doing with it?” She looked completely bewildered, startled by my outburst. “Manny bought it for me. He paid two million for it.” Suddenly, her eyes darted to something behind me. Her face hardened again, all contrition gone. “Manny! You’d better explain yourself, right now!” The air in the private room grew thick with tension. Manny’s gaze flickered over the two marriage certificates on the table, then dismissed me completely. He rushed to Daisy’s side, wrapping a protective arm around her. “I’m sorry, honey,” he murmured, his voice laced with panic. “It was a moment of weakness. I was out of my mind.” I felt like a joke, a tragedy skewered by a thousand swords, watching the man who whispered loving words in my ear every night call another woman his wife. “She’s your wife?” I asked, my voice trembling between a laugh and a sob. “Then who am I? What am I?” I scrubbed furiously at the tears streaming down my face. Just as Daisy pushed Manny away in disgust, I summoned every ounce of strength I had and slapped him hard across the face. His eyes pleaded with me, begging me to give him an out, to let him save face. “Lina,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I’m sorry. I lied to you. You’re the other woman.” A bitter laugh escaped me. I pulled out my phone and dialed. “911? I’d like to report a forgery—” Manny snatched the phone from my hand and ended the call. His brow furrowed in annoyance. “Stop making a scene! I’ll compensate you!” Daisy’s expression softened. She clearly didn’t want this to damage Manny’s reputation. “Miss Collins,” she said, her voice conciliatory. “My husband was in the wrong. We are willing to compensate you.” 3 Compensate me? A heavy stone settled in my chest. “With what?” Daisy thought for a full five minutes before answering. “The family will give you thirty million dollars and arrange for your immigration. With that money, you can live any life you want. You just can’t ever come back here. For a relationship, thirty million… it’s a good deal.” I stared into Manny’s eyes, searching for something, anything. He remained silent. He just stood there and let his mistress treat me like one. I took a slow, deep breath, forcing myself to be calm. “Manny, I’m giving you one last chance,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “You tell me, right now, who the other woman is. Whose marriage certificate is fake?” “If you don’t admit it, the three of us will be on the evening news tonight.” “You can stop loving me. You can fall for someone else and ask for a divorce. But you will not treat me like an idiot.” My voice cracked. “I guess this is my punishment for loving you since we were kids.” Manny’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of resentment in them. He was angry that I was forcing his hand. But under my gaze, the cold, hard stare of a woman with nothing left to lose, he finally broke. “I’m sorry, Daisy,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “The certificate I gave you… it’s a fake. I’m so sorry.” Slap! Daisy, trembling with a fury that seemed to shake the very foundations of her world, struck him across the face. “So that’s why you rushed off right after we registered our marriage,” I said, the pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. “You went to her.” “And our wedding night… did you spend the first half with me, then invent some company emergency so you could spend the second half with her?” It was too much for Daisy. With a choked sob, she turned and ran from the room. Manny didn’t even glance at me. He just ran after her. He didn’t come home that night. I was used to it. My work was in nighttime scientific research; I often worked late shifts. That, I now realized, was a major reason I’d never discovered his affair. I used Manny’s laptop to draft a divorce agreement. Just as I finished, a new message popped up on his screen. “Mr. Hayes, should we continue to schedule your wife for night shifts? Her latest health checkup results weren’t very good.” My heart seized. The message was from my direct supervisor. I clicked on the chat history. There weren’t many messages, but every single one was an instruction from Manny, telling my boss to keep me on the night shift. Even three years ago, right after my miscarriage, when my body was weak and frail, he had insisted I be assigned the night shift, year-round, to analyze experimental data. I sat there, numb, staring at the screen, reading the messages over and over until the words blurred. Eventually, Manny returned, his face etched with exhaustion and worry. He checked a few rooms before our housekeeper, Maria, told him I was in the study. The moment he opened the door and saw me, the laptop, my lifeless expression, panic flashed in his eyes. He rushed to my side and knelt on one knee, taking my cold hands in his. His eyes were bloodshot. He’d clearly been up all night consoling Daisy. “Maria said you haven’t eaten since yesterday. Let’s get you something to eat, okay?” he coaxed, his tone as gentle as it had always been, as if nothing had happened. But now, it only made my stomach turn. I yanked my hands away from his. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said, my voice as cold and flat as a frozen lake. “I can see how much you love her. You even have a son.” “I love you,” he interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp. “Stop this nonsense. I’m not divorcing you.” I couldn’t read him anymore. I looked at the man before me, and all I felt was contempt. “You’re a coward, Manny.” “A pathetic, spineless coward. I will never respect you.” He suddenly laughed, a strange, defiant sound. That afternoon, his mother came to talk me down. It was the same old story. All men cheat. It’s just a bit of fun. She even had the audacity to suggest that our marriage was unstable because I hadn’t given him a child. I had always respected her. But today, I threw my cup of coffee in her face. “You’re insane!” she shrieked. Yes, I thought. I think I’m about to be. 4 Daisy was in the hospital. She couldn’t handle the truth of being the other woman, so she’d swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. Fortunately, they got to her in time, and she survived. Manny was terrified and heartbroken. He dragged me to her hospital room and forced me to my knees by her bedside. “Apologize to Daisy!” he snarled. “If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have tried to kill herself!” “Did you know she’s two months pregnant?” “You almost killed her!” His grip on my shoulders was like iron, a sharp, searing pain shooting through me. My knees pressed against the cold, sterile floor. I listened to his voice, tight with rage and trembling with fear for her. I tried to shrug him off, my body rigid with defiance, but his grip was too strong. “I said, apologize! Did you hear me?” my silence only fueled his fury, and he roared at me. The noise woke Daisy. She began to weep, her voice weak and hoarse. “Don’t put on this pathetic show for me. The pain I’ve endured, the child I’ve lost… a simple ‘sorry’ from you two won’t fix any of it.” I laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound. “Why should I apologize? You’re the ones who should be apologizing to me!” Daisy’s voice grew stronger with anger. “You couldn’t keep your husband on a leash! You let him come out and lie to me! Whose fault is that if not yours?” Manny rushed to her side, his voice full of anguish. “It’s my fault. It’s our fault. Daisy, please, calm down. Don’t get worked up.” He held her, coddling her like a princess, his every movement radiating love and concern. He used to hold me that way. Every sweet memory was now a shard of glass, piercing my heart until it was a bloody, shredded mess.

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1 My sister, Rachel, ate half a plate of mangoes I’d left on the table. She broke out in an allergic rash. My brother, Bernard, stormed into my room, pried my mouth open, and started forcing mango juice down my throat. “You love mangoes, don’t you? Today, I’m going to let you have your fill!” The juice went down the wrong pipe. I couldn’t breathe. My throat was swelling shut. I begged him to save me. Instead, he dragged me to the basement and locked the door. “Rachel is suffering, so you don’t get to be comfortable either!” he snarled. “You can stay in here and think about what you’ve done. You had no one to teach you growing up, no wonder you’re so vicious!” Two days later, my mother finally remembered me. “Bernard, that’s enough. Let Lina out,” she said. “If you keep her in there too long, she’ll start to resent Rachel.” My father, standing nearby, added carelessly, “What’s the big deal? We can just buy her something nice. That’ll make up for it.” I was floating above them, a ghost tethered to my father’s shoulder. I followed them as they drifted toward the basement. I wanted to see. I wanted to see just how they planned to “make it up” to me. … The day I was locked in the basement, my brother Bernard stormed back into the living room and smashed a glass on the table. “Is Lina even part of this family?” he raged. “Mom, Dad, are you sure the paternity test was right? How could we have a child like her?” My parents’ faces were grim. Our housekeeper, Maria, stammered, “Sir, Miss Lina looked like she was in a lot of pain. Her face was turning purple. Are you sure we don’t need to take her to the hospital?” Bernard whirled on her. “Shut your mouth! You feel sorry for her? Who feels sorry for Rachel? A girl’s appearance is everything to her. Lina knew Rachel was allergic to mangoes, and she still deliberately left half a plate out on the table just to give her a rash. She’s always pulling these petty, underhanded tricks. Does she think no one can see through her?” His face was a mask of disgust. “She brought this on herself!” Maria opened her mouth, then shut it again. “Brother, don’t be angry…” a delicate voice drifted down from the top of the stairs. Rachel was leaning weakly against the railing, her eyes brimming with tears. The image of my own tear-streaked, desperate face flashed in Bernard’s mind, but he shook it away and rushed to Rachel’s side. “Your rash hasn’t cleared up yet. Why did you come out?” Rachel’s face was pale. “Brother, don’t blame Lina. I’m sure… I’m sure she didn’t do it on purpose…” Bernard stroked her cheek, his expression full of concern. “You don’t have to make excuses for her. She deserves everything she gets.” As soon as he said it, Rachel’s sobs grew more pathetic. “It’s all my fault! If I had just watched her more carefully when we were little, she wouldn’t have been taken…” My sister Rachel and I were twins. When we were five, she told me she was going to buy me some candy. She told me to wait right where I was and not to move. But she went straight home without me. By the time my parents came looking, I was already gone. For sixteen years, I lived in a remote, impoverished mountain village, enduring endless beatings and abuse. One day, my foster father looked at my developing body with a predatory glint in his eye and reached for me. In my moment of deepest despair, my real parents found me. I thought I had finally escaped hell. I never imagined that this beautiful, wealthy home would be a place where I couldn’t even survive. Bernard closed his eyes. “Don’t blame yourself for everything. Lina is just a naturally malicious person. It has nothing to do with anyone else. But I’m her brother. I’ll teach her. I’ll at least make her a decent human being.” Rachel nodded. “I know, brother. I’ll help you. We’ll turn our little sister into a real princess…” My parents nodded in approval. I flew at Bernard and Rachel, slapping each of them across the face. But the smiles on their faces didn’t waver. My hands passed right through them, into nothingness. I’d forgotten. I was already dead. Before I died, my face was contorted in agony. I clutched at my chest, the feeling of suffocation driving me to despair. But even then, I had held onto a sliver of hope. Hope that my brother would open the door and take me to the hospital. Hope that my parents would save me from the darkness, just as they had before. But nothing came. My consciousness was fading, my vision blurring, but my hearing remained sharp. I heard Bernard outside the door, instructing the housekeeper. “Don’t give her anything to eat or drink without my permission.” “Won’t that… be a problem?” Maria asked hesitantly. Bernard scoffed. “What’s the problem with starving for a few days? I’m doing this for her own good. If she doesn’t suffer a little, she’ll never learn.” I felt a ghost of a smile stretch my lips. I was laughing at Bernard, but more than that, I was laughing at myself. I remembered a time Rachel had been in a bad mood and only picked at her dinner. Bernard had noticed immediately, fussed over her, and even went into the kitchen to bake her favorite cupcakes. But for me? I could starve for days, and no one would care. I didn’t understand. I was his sister, too. I was their biological daughter. Why couldn’t they love me? Why wouldn’t they believe me? When their gazes, filled with annoyance, disappointment, and even hatred, fell upon me, I felt like I had already died long ago. I died on that hot summer day when I was five years old. Filled with bitterness and resentment, I finally lost consciousness and slipped into eternal darkness. 2 The morning of my second day in the basement, my mother finally remembered me. “Bernard, that’s enough. I think Lina has learned her lesson. Let her out. I’m worried she’ll hold a grudge against Rachel.” Bernard frowned. “Fine. I’m her brother, after all. I’ll teach her properly later.” My father nodded. “What’s the big deal? If she throws a tantrum, just buy her something to make up for it.” But Rachel chimed in with a sweet smile. “Speaking of making it up, brother, you promised to take me shopping yesterday. You can’t go back on your word.” Bernard tapped her forehead gently. “Of course I didn’t forget. I’ll take you right now, okay?” My mother looked at Rachel with adoration. “I’ll come with you. Didn’t you say you liked my custom necklace? I ordered one for you, too. Today, we’ll make your father our personal chauffeur and bag carrier!” My father smiled at them and stood up. Just like that, the family that was supposed to let me out completely forgot about me. They went to the mall, happy and laughing. I floated behind them, a silent observer. Rachel shopped and bought whatever she wanted, while Bernard and my father paid with smiles on their faces. My mother fussed over her, straightening her clothes. They looked like the perfect, happy family. As they passed a toy store, Bernard paused instinctively. Rachel noticed and tightened her grip on his arm. “What’s wrong, brother?” she cooed. “Why did you stop?” He hesitated for a moment before replying softly, “It’s nothing. I just remembered I promised Lina I’d buy her a stuffed bunny.” Rachel’s face fell. She pouted. “I knew it. You like Lina more than me!” She turned her back, feigning anger. Bernard immediately started to console her. “How could you say that? Rachel, you’re the only princess in my heart…” His phone rang, cutting him off. It was Maria, the housekeeper, her voice tinged with anxiety. “Sir, Miss Lina… she hasn’t made a sound since yesterday. I’m a little worried…” Bernard’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “What’s there to worry about? A little mango juice isn’t going to kill her, is it?” “But… I’m just afraid she might be dead… Why else would she be so quiet?” “Just leave her alone,” Bernard snapped, his patience wearing thin. “She’s just doing it for attention. Maria, how many times has she pulled this? Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” He hung up abruptly, but before he turned away, his gaze lingered on the stuffed bunnies in the store window. When I first came back to the family, I was in a daze. The villa was beautiful and warm, the bed my mother prepared for me was soft, but I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my foster father’s monstrous face. When Bernard found out, he put a small stuffed bunny in my hands. “Lina, do you remember this? I gave it to you when you were little. You used to have to hug it to sleep every night. If you can’t sleep, try holding it.” Tears instantly filled my eyes. I clutched the bunny to my chest as if it were a precious treasure. Later, Rachel cut my bunny to shreds with a pair of scissors. I ran to confront her, furious. But she just burst into tears. “It’s all my fault! But… but it’s because you said… you said I stole your painting for the competition, and you ripped up my award certificate. That painting was mine. I was just so angry, I took it out on your toy. I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…” Bernard saw her crying and immediately pulled her into a protective embrace. My parents crowded around her, comforting her. I ran out of the house in tears. Bernard caught up with me. “Lina, can’t you just be a little more understanding? Rachel has already been so tolerant with you!” The darkening look on his face made the words I wanted to say die in my throat. “Then… then will you buy me another bunny, brother?” Bernard’s expression softened slightly. He raised his hand as if to pat my head, but then let it drop. At that moment, I thought I could also be a little willful, that our blood ties would allow for it. It was only later that I realized I was aiming too high. My mother received the custom necklace and gently fastened it around Rachel’s neck. My father, as if suddenly remembering something, said, “We should buy something for Lina too, to appease her.” Bernard frowned. “These are all custom pieces. We didn’t order anything for her. What can we buy?” “I saw a jewelry store by the entrance,” my father said dismissively. “Just get her a gold necklace.” Bernard chuckled. “Good idea. Lina is so greedy. Gold is a universal currency. She’ll definitely love it.” Just then, Rachel spoke up hesitantly. “Brother, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Lina is already so vain at school. If we buy her such an expensive necklace, won’t that just encourage her to be more materialistic?” 3 “Rachel’s right. We can’t encourage that kind of habit!” my mother immediately agreed. She turned to Rachel. “Then what do you think we should get your sister?” “Doesn’t she like bunnies? We could get her a little bunny hairpin. I saw some in a lifestyle store we just passed.” “Great idea. We’ll do whatever Rachel says.” Just as my mother finished speaking, her phone rang. I froze when I heard my aunt’s voice on the other end. Her voice was thick with unshed tears, but she was trying to keep her emotions in check, her words trembling. “Sis, where are you?” Hearing her voice, I could no longer hold back my own sobs. But no one could hear me cry. In the two years since I’d returned to this family, only my aunt had ever stood by my side. She trusted me, she loved me. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to grow up, to make a lot of money on my own, and give her a comfortable life. She was a proud woman. Despite her own struggles, she had never asked her wealthy sister for a single penny. Instead, she would often secretly slip me money so I could buy things I liked. We were both daughters of the family. Rachel got an allowance of ten thousand a month, while I got fifty dollars. This, too, was Rachel’s suggestion. “It’s easy to get used to luxury. We can’t let our sister develop bad habits.” I was already insecure, and next to Rachel, I was like a scrawny, ugly duckling. The other kids at school whispered all sorts of things. Illegitimate daughter, the housekeeper’s child, an adopted orphan. Rachel would always put on a show of defending me. “Don’t say that. It doesn’t matter if we’re related by blood or not, she’s still my sister!” We were twins, but because of years of malnutrition, I was small for my age, my features not yet fully developed. Still, there were similarities between us. But no one ever believed we were sisters.

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1 I’d been dead for four days, my body a statue of ice in a cabin buried by a blizzard. But my five-year-old daughter, Annie, thought I was just playing a game of Statues. Starving, she’d started gnawing on an expired sausage stick. Using the last bar of battery on my phone, she dialed the only number in my contacts. The call connected, and Lynn’s impatient voice barked through the speaker. “Ethan, if you’re calling to make excuses or beg, don’t bother.” Annie clutched the phone, the plastic wrapper still in her mouth, her words muffled by sobs. “Mommy, Daddy’s been playing Statues for three days. There are… there are little black bugs on him now.” On the other end, the sharp tap of fingernails against a desk. Lynn’s tone turned even more scornful. “He’s stooping to disgusting lies like that just to dodge his sentence?” “Tell him to stop playing dead, or I don’t mind coming to collect his corpse myself.” Floating in the air, I desperately tried to snatch the phone away, but I could only watch helplessly as Annie poked my rigid cheek. “But Daddy is so cold,” she whimpered. “I can’t wake him up.” A dead silence fell on Lynn’s end, followed by the frantic wail of police sirens. I sighed, a bitter smile on my spectral lips. The snow, it seemed, couldn’t hide a body forever. … The screech of tires cut through the silence outside. I hovered in the air, looking down at my own stiff corpse with a sense of relief. These were the people I had contacted before I died. I’d sent them a scheduled message: if they didn’t hear from me in three days, they were to come collect my body and take Annie to my father’s place in the countryside. My life had been a mess, and I hadn’t left Annie with a good name. If she ended up in foster care, branded as the daughter of a traitor, the other kids would bully her to death. The woman in the lead took off her hat as she saw me on the bed, her eyes red as she gave a crisp salute. Annie, terrified, shrank into the corner of the bed, her small hands clutching a fistful of my shirt. “Who are you? Don’t take my daddy!” The woman moved to pick Annie up. Annie lunged forward and bit down hard on the back of her hand. “You’re bad people! All of you! When my mommy gets here, she’ll arrest you all!” I wanted to laugh, but I also wanted to cry. My silly girl, your mother is the one who wants to arrest me most. The woman didn’t say a word, just gently covered my face with a white sheet. The moment they lifted my body, the roar of another engine echoed from outside. Several police cruisers tore through the snow, their red and blue lights flashing violently against the white landscape. Lynn, dressed in her sharp police uniform, strode into the yard. “Stop! Put him down!” She marched forward, reaching to rip the white sheet away, but the lead woman blocked her path. The two sides stood in a tense standoff, the air crackling with hostility. When Annie saw Lynn, her face lit up as if she’d seen her savior. She scrambled out from behind the woman in black and stumbled towards Lynn, hugging her leg. “Mommy! Officer! Please save Daddy!” “These bad people are trying to take him away!” Lynn looked down at the child who barely reached her thigh. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by disgust. She shoved Annie away. The force was so strong that Annie fell backward, landing hard in the snow. “Who’s your mommy? Don’t call me that.” I drifted over, wanting to help Annie up, but my hands passed right through her. I screamed at Lynn, “Be gentle! She’s only five!” But she couldn’t hear me. And in that moment of distraction, the group quickly loaded my stretcher into their vehicle and sped away, leaving a cloud of disturbed snow in their wake. Furious, Lynn kicked at a nearby snowdrift. “Ethan! What a clever trick! “Faking your own death to escape? You’ll really do anything, won’t you?” She turned and scanned the small room. The simple bed was now empty, leaving only a worn-out quilt. She felt around under the pillow and pulled out a photograph. It was the only one we had together. In the picture, we were in our graduation robes, our smiles wide and full of life. Lynn stared at it, a complex emotion in her eyes that quickly soured into pure derision. “Keeping this? Trying to play the sympathy card?” “In your dreams.” Rip. She tore the photo in two. She tossed the pieces to the ground and ground them into the slush with the heel of her boot. I watched our smiling faces get trampled into the snow and felt my heart clench as if caught in a vise. That photo had been the one thing that got me through the last five years. Lynn paced the room one last time. Convinced there were no other clues, she turned to leave. Annie was still sitting in the snow, crying, her little hands red from the cold. Lynn looked down at her. “Stop crying.” “Your father doesn’t want you. He left with those people.” “He abandoned you. You were just a burden to him.” Annie sobbed, her big eyes filled with confusion. “Daddy didn’t run away… Daddy’s sleeping…” “Shut up!” Lynn grabbed the back of Annie’s collar and lifted her like a stray kitten, shoving her into the back of the police car. “Since he doesn’t want you, you’re coming with me.” “Let’s see just how long he can stay hidden when I have you in my grasp.” The car door slammed shut. I spun in a panic, forcing myself to drift into the car and stay close to my daughter. 2 The car sped back to Lynn’s home. The moment the door opened, a wave of warm air washed over us. Annie’s frozen little body finally shivered, and she let out a huge sneeze. Lynn tossed her onto the sofa, then walked to the liquor cabinet and poured herself half a glass of whiskey. “Alright, talk. Where did your father go?” Annie huddled in the corner, looking at her with timid eyes. “Daddy… was taken by bad people…” “Still lying!” Annie flinched, fresh tears welling up in her big eyes. “I’m not lying… Daddy had bugs on him, and he wouldn’t move…” Lynn let out a cold laugh, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. “Ethan taught you that, didn’t he?” “Taught you to act pathetic, to lie, to manipulate people’s sympathy?” She stood up, glass in hand, and loomed over Annie. “Let me tell you, that trick doesn’t work on me.” “You’d better tell me the truth. Where did you agree to meet them? What’s the code word?” Annie had no idea what she was talking about. She clutched her stomach and whispered, “Ma’am, I’m hungry.” Lynn froze for a second, the disgust in her eyes deepening. “Hungry? You have the appetite to eat? You really are his child. Heartless, both of you.” Despite her words, she got up and went to the kitchen. I floated in the air, taking in the apartment. Every trace of me had been scrubbed clean. A pair of men’s slippers sat by the door. Two toothbrushes were on the bathroom counter. They belonged to Leo. I remembered the last time I saw her, before I left. She was with him. I saw Lynn gently wipe a bit of cake from the corner of his mouth, her eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. The study door was slightly ajar. I couldn’t resist drifting inside. A travel brochure for a honeymoon in the Maldives was spread open on the desk. Next to the picture of a honeymoon suite were her handwritten notes, detailing their wedding plans. My heart soured as I looked at it all. But I quickly pushed the feeling down. It was for the best. Truly. She had a new life now. That was so much better than being in love with a dead man. A noise came from the kitchen. Lynn emerged with a bowl of noodles. It was a simple broth with a single fried egg on top, slightly burnt around the edges. I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. I was the one who taught her how to make this, years ago. She was always clumsy, never quite getting the heat right. Back then, she’d work herself to the bone, always forgetting to eat. I was worried she wouldn’t be able to take care of herself when I was gone. So I spent a week patiently teaching her a few simple, quick meals. This noodle soup was one of them. Lynn placed the bowl on the coffee table with a thud. “Eat.” Annie was starving. She grabbed the chopsticks and began to devour the noodles, not even caring that they were hot. Lynn sat across from her, watching, her expression unreadable. After two large bowls, Annie wiped her mouth and gave Lynn a tentative, eager smile. “Thank you, ma’am.” “This is really yummy.” “It tastes like my daddy’s.” The hand swirling the whiskey glass stopped mid-air. For a second, I saw a flash of shock in Lynn’s eyes. But she quickly composed herself, a sarcastic smirk playing on her lips. “Hah. So, over there, he actually found the time to cook such common food himself?” Annie nodded earnestly, her eyes clear as crystal. “He does! Daddy makes the best noodles!” “Even though… even though we often didn’t have money for eggs.” “But Daddy would always give me the only egg we had, just like you did.” Lynn’s face darkened. She slammed her glass on the table, the dark red liquid sloshing violently. “That’s enough. He abandoned you. Why are you still remembering what he tastes like?” Just then, the lock on the front door clicked. 3 Leo walked in, briefcase in hand. The smile on his face froze when he saw Annie. “Lynn… who’s this?” Lynn didn’t even look up. “Ethan’s. He abandoned her and ran off.” Leo visibly relaxed, then looked at her with confusion. “This child… you don’t recognize her?” A knife twisted in my heart. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognize her. She had forgotten. Five years ago, she’d been in a car crash trying to protect Annie. When she woke up from her severe injuries, her mind, as a defense mechanism against the trauma, sealed away all memories of our daughter. Shock and pity flashed in Leo’s eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but all that came out was a sigh. He changed into his slippers and walked over to Annie, crouching down. “Hey there, little one. What’s your name?” Annie shrank back, a little wary. “My name is Annie.” “Annie…” Leo repeated the name, his eyes turning red. “That’s a beautiful name.” He reached out to pat her head. But Annie turned away. “Mister, I want my daddy.” Leo’s hand froze in mid-air. He awkwardly pulled it back and stood up, looking at Lynn’s back with a gentle voice. “Lynn, since the child is here, let’s just take care of her for now.” “After all… it’s not her fault.” Lynn snorted but said nothing. And so, Annie stayed. That evening, Annie timidly tugged on Lynn’s sleeve. “I miss Daddy. Can we play Statues?” Lynn was flipping through a case file, not even bothering to look up. “I don’t have time.” The light in my daughter’s eyes dimmed. She wrung her small hands. “It’s the game Daddy played with me the most… He would always make me be a statue in my room while he talked with guests outside for a long time.” She hugged her knees, her voice muffled and sad. “I know Daddy didn’t want them to know about me. He didn’t want a burden like me.” “He… he didn’t really like me. He didn’t want his friends to meet me.” “So I have to be extra good, to make him like me a little more.” As she spoke, tears rolled down her cheeks. I floated in the air, my heart shattering. I had always thought she was so obedient, so easy to care for. I never knew that beneath that quiet compliance lay so much fear and insecurity. I thought hiding her in her room was the best way to protect her. I never imagined it would become the darkest shadow of her childhood. I reached out, my hand passing through her face again and again. “Annie, Daddy loves you more than anything. Daddy didn’t mean it…” Leo couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked over and gently pulled her into his arms, comforting her softly. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. Your daddy must have had his reasons.” Lynn looked at Leo, her gaze softening. “You’re still so soft-hearted. After everything Ethan did to you, you’re still willing to comfort his daughter.” Leo just held the child, looking up at Lynn with a complicated expression. After hearing the child’s cries, Lynn’s brow furrowed. She was silent for a long time before finally speaking to the child in Leo’s arms. “Your father… he’s not a good person.” “The people he associated with weren’t good people either.” “He probably kept you away from them to protect you.” Annie’s eyes instantly lit up. But just as quickly, she struggled out of Leo’s arms, stood before Lynn, and loudly retorted. “Daddy is a good person!” “Sometimes he would put black stuff on his face and wear weird clothes, but he never did anything bad!” “And sometimes he would cry late at night, looking at your picture!” Lynn was stunned. “My picture?” Annie pulled a small, crumpled piece of paper from a pocket sewn into her clothes. It was a clipping from a newspaper. It showed Lynn in her police uniform, receiving an award. The image was blurry, but Annie had preserved it carefully, sealing it with clear tape. “Daddy said Mommy is a superhero, that she catches bad guys.” “Daddy said that when he finished playing his last game, he would bring me to find Mommy.” Annie held up the small clipping as if it were an article of faith. “Ma’am, are you really my mommy?” “If you are, why do you say bad things about Daddy?” Lynn’s pupils contracted violently. Her hand trembled as she reached for the clipping. Just as her fingertips were about to touch it, she snatched her hand back. “Enough!” “Stop the act!” “To clean up his own name, Ethan even taught you this brainwashing routine?” “He really went to great lengths!” She strode to the door, grabbed her coat, and stormed out. The newspaper clipping fluttered from Annie’s hand to the floor. She stared blankly at the door, the light in her eyes fading, bit by bit. “Mommy… doesn’t want me either?” I knelt on the floor, my arms wrapping around the ghost of her small body. And I wept until my soul ached. 4 The next morning, before the sun was up, Lynn returned, bringing a chill with her. She had clearly been out all night, her eyes were bloodshot. “Get up. We’re leaving.” She roughly pulled the still-sleeping Annie from the bed. Leo, not yet dressed, heard the commotion and hurried out. “So early? The child hasn’t even had breakfast.” “She won’t starve.” Lynn dragged Annie towards the door. Annie didn’t even have time to put her shoes on properly; one heel was crushed under her foot. She didn’t dare cry, just clenched her small fists. My heart ached for her. I spun in a frantic circle, wanting to lunge at Lynn and push her away, but I passed through her solid form time and time again. “Lynn, what are you doing?! Let her put her shoes on right!” I screamed until I was hoarse, uselessly trying to fix Annie’s shoe, my hand passing through her tiny ankle. Seeing her stumble as she was dragged away felt like a knife twisting in my chest. On the road, Lynn drove like a maniac. Five hours later, the car screeched to a halt in front of an old, rundown apartment building. This was where I grew up. Where my father lived. To make him believe I had truly gone bad, I had stood in front of all our neighbors, called him a useless old man, and smashed everything in our home. My father had collapsed on the spot. When he woke up, he disowned me. All these years, he believed I was out there committing heinous crimes. Lynn hauled Annie up the stairs and banged on the door. After a long while, the door opened a crack, revealing my father’s old, weary face. He was stunned to see Lynn, but his expression quickly turned to ice. “If you’re here for that ungrateful son of mine, you’ve come to the wrong place.” “As far as I’m concerned, I never had that beast for a son.” Lynn pushed Annie forward. “This is his child.” “He ran off. The child is yours now.” My father looked down at the scrawny little girl in front of him. His eyes filled with immediate disgust. “I won’t accept the bastard child of that animal!” He started to slam the door shut. Lynn braced her hand against it. “Sir, you’re her grandfather. If you don’t take her, who will?” My father’s hand was shaking. After a moment’s hesitation, he looked closely at Annie’s face, a face so much like my own, and tears suddenly streamed down his cheeks. I remember my father as a man who could hold up the sky. After my mother died, he raised me alone, never shedding a tear no matter how hard life got. But now, looking at my child, he was sobbing like a helpless boy. I wanted so badly to rush over and hug him. But my hands could only pass through his shoulders, stooped from years of hard labor. Dad, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry… “What a sin…” “What a terrible sin!” “That damn kid… if he wanted to ruin his own life, fine, but to bring a child into the world to suffer with him!” His words were harsh, but he let go of the doorknob. “Come in.” “But I’m telling you now, I can’t guarantee I can provide for her. I don’t have much of a pension, and I have my own medical bills.” Lynn took a card from her wallet and threw it on the shoe cabinet. “There’s ten thousand dollars on here.” “It should cover her expenses for a few years.” With that, she turned to leave, as if staying a second longer would contaminate her. Just as she turned, a steady set of footsteps echoed from the stairwell. A middle-aged woman in a gray trench coat appeared at the top of the stairs. She was carrying a black briefcase, her expression solemn. The moment she saw Annie, her eyes reddened. She strode forward, knelt down, and touched Annie’s head with a trembling hand. “The resemblance… it’s uncanny.” “This must be Ethan’s child, isn’t she?” Lynn’s face was cold. “Director Evans, this child is a mess left behind by that fugitive, Ethan.” “I wouldn’t touch her, you might catch something.” Director Evans shot to her feet, her eyes suddenly sharp as daggers. “Lynn, you will be silent.” She snapped, cutting Lynn off. Then, she took an envelope and a deep red velvet box from her briefcase. She held them out to my father with both hands, her voice heavy with respect. “Sir, I am so sorry. I’m late.”

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Ten years ago, I walked in on my husband with my adopted sister. Unable to process the scene, I slapped them both, hard, and then smashed everything in the room. Faced with my fury, my husband offered no explanation. He just watched me break, his expression unnervingly calm. That same night, he had men bind me and throw me in prison. Before they took me away, he cooked a large meal for me, his voice a gentle poison. “Brenda, you frightened Chloe yesterday. Go cool off for a few days. I’ll calm her down, and then I’ll come get you.” But “a few days” turned into ten years. When I was released, I found a small town and started a new life under a new name, working as a waitress in a diner. Until I saw him again. My ex-husband, Nick. He stood there in a tailored suit, his presence calm and commanding. He froze when he saw me, and then his eyes reddened as he grabbed my hand. “Brenda, you’re out. Why didn’t you tell me?” “These years… have you been okay?” I gave a bitter smile, touching my head through my beanie. I have no hair left. Ten years of torment had given me cancer. By my count, I have a month to live, at most. … I didn’t answer him. I just pulled the sleeves of my worn cotton jacket down, trying to hide the dense cluster of needle marks on my arms. Nick wouldn’t let it go. He opened his mouth to speak again, but my boss yelled from across the room. “Davis, stop dawdling! Get over here and clear that table!” “Coming!” I called back, not daring to look at Nick again. I fled. In my peripheral vision, I saw him start to call after me, but his mouth closed without a sound. Later, I brought out his order. He’d only ordered a single dish of braised fish, a bowl of spicy lamb soup, and a bottle of wine. I frowned. He’s allergic to fish and hates the gamy taste of lamb. But they were my two favorite dishes. A cruel irony, since the stomach cancer meant I hadn’t been able to eat them in years. I placed the dishes in front of him, my face a blank mask. “Sir, your order is complete. Please enjoy.” I turned to leave, but his hand shot out and gripped my sleeve. “Brenda, I ordered all of this for you. Sit down. Have a drink with me, please?” I froze, my mind flashing back to the night he sent me away. He had prepared my favorite foods then, too, right before condemning me to a decade in hell. Seeing my silence, he continued, his voice pleading. “I’m begging you. Just let me talk to you for a minute…” I sighed and sat down across from him. He poured me a glass of wine. “Brenda, I was supposed to pick you up when you were released, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” “They all said… they said you were dead.” I didn’t touch the wine or the food. “I’m not. Sorry to disappoint you, Nick.” His reaction was unexpectedly emotional. He leaned forward, grabbing both of my hands. “Brenda, I know I wronged you. Please, come back with me. I’ll make it up to you, I swear!” “Your father’s sixtieth birthday is in three days. Come with me, and I’ll explain everything to him.” Explain. Ten years ago, to appease my adopted sister, Chloe, and to keep me from exposing their affair, Nick had forged evidence that I’d taken bribes at my company. It earned me a ten-year sentence for a crime I didn’t commit. And my parents? They didn’t even question it. They disowned me on the spot, calling me a parasite on society. His words brought all the pain and despair of those years rushing back. I fought to suppress a tidal wave of agony, but my body betrayed me, trembling uncontrollably. “Explain? What is there to explain?” “Are you going to explain your sordid little affair with Chloe?” My voice was louder than I intended, sharp with emotion. Instantly, curious, gossiping eyes from the surrounding tables turned towards us. I shot to my feet and walked away. I thought that would be the last I’d see of Nick. After all, how much genuine remorse could the man who personally cast me into hell truly feel? But the next morning, when I arrived for my shift, he was already there, waiting by the door. He strode towards me as I approached. “Brenda, you were a top-tier engineer. Are you really content wasting away in a place like this?” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “But you’re the one who ruined my life, remember? Doesn’t it make you sick to say things like that now?” He flinched, a flicker of panic in his eyes. He opened his mouth to explain, but I pushed past him and went inside. Nick didn’t leave. He ordered a plate of food and a pot of tea and sat there all day. I ignored him, going about my work as usual. Near the end of my shift, a sharp, twisting pain shot through my stomach. A metallic, sweet liquid surged up my throat. I fought it down, stumbling back a step. In my daze, I bumped a table, knocking a glass of red wine all over a customer. The wine soaked his shirt. The man stared for a second, and before I could even apologize, his hand cracked across my face. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you blind? This shirt is designer, you think you can afford to replace it?” He grew more agitated as he spoke, ignoring my apologies. He kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me sprawling to the floor. Then he picked up the bottle of wine from his table and poured it over my head. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. A strangled cry escaped my lips as I coughed up a mouthful of blood. The crimson mixed with the red wine, staining my clothes in a grotesque pattern. Still not satisfied, the man raised his foot to kick me again, but someone shoved him aside. Nick stood over me, his eyes bloodshot with fury, a protective shield. He roared, “I’d like to see anyone touch her!” The man started to curse, but when he saw the feral look in Nick’s eyes, a flicker of fear crossed his face. He muttered a few more insults and then scurried out of the diner. Nick gently helped me up, his face etched with concern. “Brenda, the blood…” I glanced down at the red mess on my shirt and stammered, “It’s just the wine.” I pushed him away and ran. The next day, I quit my job. I’d only been working to pay for chemotherapy drugs. Since I was going to die soon anyway, there was no point. Besides, my greatest wish now was to get as far away from Nick and his world as possible. I wanted to die in peace. Quitting was easy. I just told my boss, collected my final paycheck, and left. As I walked out, I remembered my last medical report was still at the hospital. I decided to pick it up and buy some more painkillers while I was there. But just as I collected the report, I saw a familiar figure. My adopted sister, Chloe. And standing beside her were Nick and my own parents. Chloe saw me first. She froze, staring in disbelief. “Brenda? You’re not dead?” I glanced at the bag of medicine in her hand. It was from the maternity ward. The name on the bag read: Chloe. Then I saw her swollen belly and the intimate way Nick stood beside her. I didn’t need any more clues. Even after ten years, seeing it with my own eyes felt like a piece of my heart had been carved out. I laughed, a sound full of self-mockery. “Still alive. Sorry to disappoint you.” A dark look flashed across Chloe’s face, but she quickly replaced it with a wounded expression. “Brenda, I know you hate that I married Nick.” “But you two were divorced. And after what you did ten years ago… you couldn’t expect him to wait for you forever, could you?” Nick chimed in. “Our parents are here. Just apologize properly. It’s Dad’s birthday tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll forgive you.” I sneered. It was their fault, and they wanted me to apologize? “You know exactly what happened ten years ago,” I said, my voice sharp. “Why should I be the one to apologize?” At that, my parents finally noticed me. They looked much older. Not yet sixty, but their hair was almost completely white, their backs stooped. They stared at me, stunned. My mother was the first to speak, her brow furrowed. “Why are you so thin? Are you on drugs?” “You were trouble ten years ago, and you still are. You didn’t even come to us after you got out. You must have a guilty conscience!” I was floored. It took me a moment to process what she was saying. How utterly laughable. After ten years apart, there was no concern, no question about my health. Her first instinct was to suspect me of being a drug addict. That was the image they held of me. I laughed, and tears streamed down my face. My father frowned at my laughter. “Your mother’s right. You’re unnaturally thin.” Without another word, he grabbed my arm and started dragging me towards the hospital’s lab. “Come with me for a drug test!” He shouted, drawing a crowd of onlookers. In the struggle, he shoved me, and I fell, my head hitting the corner of a nearby table. Blood trickled down my forehead. The surge of emotion brought on another wave of intense pain in my stomach. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes. Then, Nick spoke, his tone a sickening mix of gentleness and concern. “Brenda, I didn’t notice yesterday, but you really are… just listen to them. Go take the test.” “If there’s a problem, we’ll help you get clean. It’s not too late to turn back.” Chloe feigned concern as well. “Sister, I know you’ve been through a lot, but you can’t keep making mistakes!” That same condescending tone. Why? Why did they get to decide who I was? Why did I have to pay the price for their twisted fantasies? My father tried to grab me again. I pushed his hand away and struggled to my feet. “Fine,” I said, my voice ragged. “I’ll go.” I limped into the testing room. The results, of course, were clean. A flicker of embarrassment crossed my parents’ faces, but there was no apology. My mother just glanced at me and said awkwardly, “Well, that’s that. Let’s go home. It’s your father’s sixtieth tomorrow. Make sure you’re there.” I took a step back, putting distance between us. “You were right all those years ago. I’m not your daughter. We cut ties a long time ago.” “I won’t be coming to the party. Happy birthday to him.” With that, I gave them a slight bow, turned my back on their curses and pleas, and walked out of the hospital. On the morning of my father’s sixtieth birthday, I woke up and coughed up more blood. The pain was now a constant companion, a fire burning inside me. It came in waves so intense they nearly brought me to my knees. I knew the cancer was accelerating. Every day was a new form of torture. I probably wouldn’t even last the month. Just as I wiped the blood from my lips, there was a knock at the door. It was Nick. I had no desire to see him. “Nick, your wife is pregnant,” I said through the door. “It’s not appropriate for a husband to be visiting his ex-wife so often.” His voice was grim on the other side. “Brenda, I know you hate me. We can talk about us later.” “Today is your father’s birthday. You have to be there. We’re a family. We need to talk this out.” I didn’t want to go, but the cancer had left me too weak to resist. He was forceful, pulling me into his car without another word. During the drive, he kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Brenda, why are you so thin?” I ran a finger over the needle marks on my hand and gave a bitter smile. “Terminal cancer. Would you believe that?” Nick was stunned for a moment, then he laughed. “Brenda, don’t say things like that. You can’t joke about something so serious.” “How could you have cancer? You must be on some crazy diet. I’ve always told you, a little meat on your bones looks good. Don’t be so anxious about your figure…” I didn’t really hear the rest of what he said. I just nodded. “You’re right. I was joking. I don’t have cancer. Just a crazy diet.” The rest of the ride was silent. We arrived just as the party was starting. I kept my eyes down, standing off to the side, a silent ghost at the feast. My parents, by some unspoken agreement, didn’t introduce me to anyone. Instead, Chloe played the part of the devoted daughter, with Nick as the perfect son-in-law, mingling with the guests. I was the outsider. As the party was winding down, a swarm of reporters burst in, surrounding Chloe. “Ms. Chloe, is it true that your current husband was once your brother-in-law?” “How long has this scandalous affair been going on? Was your sister’s sudden criminal breakdown related to this?” Faced with the onslaught, Chloe’s eyes immediately filled with tears. Under the blinding flash of cameras, she dropped to her knees right in front of me. “Sister, I’m begging you, please leave me alone.” “Nick and I only got together after you were divorced. Please, call off the reporters. I… I can’t take this.” This time, before I could even react, my mother’s hand struck my face. “You wretched girl! How could you do this to your sister!” Nick helped Chloe to her feet, his eyes a mixture of complex emotions and disgust as he looked at me. “Brenda, you refused all my offers of help, and this was your plan all along? To go after Chloe? You disgust me!” I was stunned. “This wasn’t me,” I pleaded. “I don’t know anything about this.” My father was shaking with rage. “You monster! And you still dare to lie!” “Look at you, thin as a rail! I don’t know how you cheated that drug test, but now you’re trying to ruin your sister!” “You’re my daughter! You think I don’t know what you’re capable of?!” He grew more and more agitated, his chest heaving. “Someone! Bring me the whip!” A long, leather whip was brought to him. Without a word, he swung it, and it cracked against my body. The thin fabric of my shirt tore, revealing an angry red welt. Blood trickled down my skin. I coughed up more blood, but this time, I gripped the windowsill, refusing to fall. The irony was that a flicker of pity crossed Nick’s eyes. He even tried to reason with me. “Brenda, just give in. Apologize to Chloe. We’re all family here…” “Apologize?” I ground out the word, glaring at the people before me. “Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do?” Then, under the shocked gazes of the guests and the flashing cameras, I tore off my shirt, leaving me in just a thin tank top. A collective gasp went through the room. My skeletal frame was a canvas of scars, old and new, crisscrossing in a horrific pattern. My arms were covered in a dense tapestry of needle marks. I pointed to the scars, my voice ringing out, directed at Nick. “Ten years ago, all I did was walk in on you with my adopted sister, and you forged evidence to send me to prison.” “You said you’d come get me after you calmed Chloe down. I waited ten years. I begged them every day to let me see you, and all I got in return was a decade of beatings and abuse.” I turned to my parents, who were frozen in shock. “You wanted to know why I’m so thin?” I laughed, a sound of pure release. “Because the abuse gave me cancer. I have only days left to live.” “I’m a waitress now. How could I possibly have the connections to hire reporters?” My father was trembling. The whip fell from his hand with a clatter. Nick and my parents clung to each other, taking a step towards me, but I backed away, pressing myself against the open window. I fought back the searing pain from the cancer, my gaze sweeping over their three pale, horrified faces. “Remember this,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “You killed Brenda. My own parents and you, Nick. You murdered me.”

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1 Six years after Kane went legit, I ran into him at St. Jude’s Abbey in Southport. The snow was coming down thick and heavy that day. He was there with his pregnant wife, praying for their unborn child. I was there to light votive candles for my parents, who had been dead for six years. Our eyes met, and for a split second, we both froze. After a moment of charged silence, he spoke first, asking how I’d been all these years. I answered politely. “Getting by.” After his prayers, he didn’t leave. He just stood there, watching me with a thoughtful expression. The wind whipped snow and freezing rain under the cloister’s eaves. I thought he was just waiting for the storm to pass, but then he asked, his voice laced with a nervous tremor, “Li, do you still hate me?” I watched the flickering flames of the candles before me, their light dancing on the cold stone. I bit my lip and said nothing. How could I not hate him? Three lives were lost because of him. … The man’s lips parted, as if he wanted to say more. Just then, a few other visitors approached a monk, asking how to refill the oil in the votive lamps. Seeing this, Kane swallowed his words and stepped aside. I didn’t look at him again. I walked to the altar, picked up the oil vessel, and carefully refilled the three lamps engraved with the names of my loved ones. The flames leaped, their light reflecting on my calm face. Every lamp here represented a memory, a past that could never be reclaimed. My parents. My brother. They were all taken from me six years ago. And the man responsible was standing just a few feet behind me. “Kane, we should go.” A soft, feminine voice called from the cloisters, tinged with impatience. Through the swirling incense smoke, I saw Chloe, one hand on the small of her back, looking at Kane with clear annoyance. “I know.” Kane’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He took a step closer to me and pulled a business card from the inner pocket of his suit, holding it out. “Li, if… if you ever need anything, you can call this number.” I didn’t take it. He awkwardly placed the card on the edge of the nearby donation box and turned, walking quickly away. I watched as he reached Chloe’s side, gently adjusting the expensive cashmere shawl around her shoulders and carefully guiding her down the steps. A sharp, unexpected pain twisted in my gut. Outside the abbey doors, a black Bentley had been waiting. A driver held the door as Kane settled Chloe safely inside before getting in himself. The car sped away, crushing the freshly fallen snow. I pulled my gaze away, picked up the business card from the donation box, and, without a second glance, dropped it into a brazier where paper offerings were being burned. The flames licked at the edges of the card, consuming it in seconds until it was nothing but a wisp of smoke. 2 The next day was the anniversary of my mother’s death. I cooked my parents’ favorite dishes and brought them to the cemetery. I arranged the food, knelt on the cold stone slab, and, as I always did, began to speak softly to the headstone. “Mom, Dad, brother… I’m here to see you.” The wind chilled my cheeks. I reached out and gently traced the cold, carved names on the stone, as if I could still feel the warmth of my parents’ hands. “Dad, Mom,” I whispered, a faint smile touching my lips. “I saw Kane yesterday.” “But don’t you worry. He can’t hurt me anymore.” “I’m on my own now, and I’m doing just fine…” Now, I was just Clara, the owner of a small dessert shop tucked away in a Southport alley. My life was simple, steady. I was no longer the woman of the North Harbor crime boss. I would no longer have blood on my hands for his sake. And I would never again be the crazy woman who, unable to accept his betrayal, threatened to take his mistress down with her. … The year I met Kane, he was just an orphan on the streets of North Harbor, fighting dogs for scraps in a dumpster. He was young, and to get a mouthful of food without being beaten or starved to death, he was always covered in a patchwork of fresh and faded bruises. Not a single inch of his skin was unmarked. That winter, a blizzard buried the city for three days and three nights. Kane, who hadn’t eaten in days, collapsed from hunger right on our doorstep. Looking at this boy, who was my age but thin as a skeleton, I couldn’t bear it. I begged my father, the head of the North Harbor syndicate, to take him in. My parents couldn’t refuse me. They adopted Kane and began to train him. “Boss, I, Kane, will remember this debt for the rest of my life. I will repay you.” Kane was a man who honored his debts. And he did. In five years, he went from a low-level street punk to the undisputed king of North Harbor, climbing his way to the top over the blood and bones of his rivals. Throughout North Harbor, everyone addressed him with respect as “Boss Kane.” The same people who once looked down on him now scrambled to get on his good side, but he kept them all at a polite distance. Only with my father was his respect genuine, coming from the heart. Even after my father got out of the game and stepped away from power, Kane’s loyalty never wavered. “If it wasn’t for the Boss back then, I’d have died in some gutter. I wouldn’t be here today.” “You and Ma’am are like my own parents.” “I will always be a good son to you, and I will take care of Li.” And in the days that followed, two young hearts, spending every day together, began to fall in love. The old guard in the organization, who resented his rise, constantly tried to undermine him. During those years, I stood by his side through countless sleepless nights, shielded him from schemes at the negotiation table, and patched up his knife wounds in the dead of night. From internal power struggles to violent clashes with other factions, we walked the most dangerous path together. Until no one in North Harbor dared to challenge him again. But the higher he climbed, the more women threw themselves at him. Though I trusted him, I couldn’t help but feel a tremor of insecurity. He saw my anxiety and held my hand tightly. “Li, in my heart, no one compares to you.” “You’re the one who stood by me when I was bleeding, the one who walked through fire and blood with me. No one can ever replace that.” To put me at ease, he took me with him everywhere he went. He knew I loved the pan-fried dumplings from an old shop on the west side, and no matter how late he finished his business, he would drive across town to buy them for me. If I so much as burned a finger while cooking, he would frown for ages, carefully applying ointment as if it were a mortal wound. Everyone said I was the woman Kane loved to his bones, that you could cross anyone but me. I believed our bond, forged in hardship, was unbreakable. I never imagined reality would deliver such a savage slap to my face. 3 The day I discovered Kane’s affair was a day like any other. I went to find him at one of his clubs, carrying his stomach medication. But in his office, I found him tangled with the new lounge singer, their clothes in disarray. In that instant, I felt like I had been encased in ice. I stood frozen, unable to utter a single word. Helplessness, confusion, betrayal… the emotions washed over me like a flood of ice water. Kane, however, was unnervingly calm. He slowly straightened his clothes and moved to shield Chloe behind him. “I was going to tell you in a few days, but since you’ve seen it, there’s no point in hiding it.” “Publicly, you’ll still be my wife. Privately, Chloe will have the same status as you. There will be no distinction.” I watched him gently drape his suit jacket over Chloe’s shoulders. I fought back the bile rising in my throat. “Kane, you promised you would only love me. You said you would be good to me for the rest of our lives. Have you forgotten all of that?” I thought that after everything we’d been through, even if he cheated, there would still be some affection left for me. But his face was a mask of impatience. “Clara, don’t bring up the past. I was young then, I didn’t know what love was. I mistook gratitude for love. It wasn’t until I met Chloe that I understood. Real love shouldn’t be held hostage by a debt.” He said it with such finality. In that moment, all my sanity burned away. I lunged at him like a madwoman, pounding on his chest, my voice raw as I screamed at him, asking him where this left my pride, my position. Was our history worth less than some singer? Kane just stood there calmly, letting me vent. It was only when I cursed them, calling them a cheating scumbag and a whore, that his eyes turned to ice. “Enough! You can insult me, but I won’t let you talk about Chloe like that. She is the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.” “And what about me?” His gaze fell on my pale face. He paused, then said flatly, “Li, you were just a suitable wife.” In that one moment, I understood everything. When his position was unstable, many of his men didn’t respect him. Being with me was a way to use my parents’ influence to win them over. All those years of doting on me, putting me on a pedestal—it was all an act to make his crew believe he was a loyal, honorable man, someone worth following. The mask was off. The coldness in Kane’s eyes was like a row of rusty steel needles, stabbing into my heart and leaving it to bleed. My great love story had been nothing more than a calculated move in his long game. 4 While I was still reeling from this brutal truth, Kane began to pave the way for Chloe with great fanfare. He started bringing her to all important events, making sure everyone knew who the future “boss’s wife” was. I was only in my twenties then, an age where love is everything and there’s no room for compromise. I couldn’t accept that years of my devotion and love were being stolen by another woman. If I was going to be miserable, I was going to make sure they were too. So, at the birthday party Kane threw for Chloe, I made a scene. In front of more than a hundred of his men, I aired all their dirty laundry for the world to see. Amid the sound of shattering glasses and plates, Kane’s eyes were filled with weariness and annoyance. “Clara, do you have to make this so ugly? Let my men laugh at me?” I looked up at him, refusing to back down. “Yes! Why should I suffer while you two get to be happy?” Furious, Kane wrapped an arm around Chloe and stormed out. That night, I received a video call from Chloe. On the screen, Kane’s back was to the camera. He had her pinned to the sofa, dressed only in her underwear, kissing her passionately. “Baby, you smell so good today.” Chloe’s pale arm was wrapped around his neck. “Kane,” she purred, “who gets you more excited, me or my sister?” Kane gave her lips a tender kiss. “Baby, she’s a woman with blood on her hands and a body full of scars. How can she compare to you? If it weren’t for the fact that her father’s old crew is still useful, I’d find it disgusting to even touch her.” As he spoke, one of his hands slid lower. Chloe let out a playful protest. “Hey, stop it, I just gave it to you yesterday…” “Yes, and I hate it…” Kane’s voice was a low, husky growl. The sounds of their breathing grew heavier as their bodies twisted together. My heart felt like it had been ripped open. The pain was unbearable. In that moment, I finally snapped. I smashed our wedding photo against the floor. I destroyed everything in the room. While Kane was away, I stormed into Chloe’s apartment, grabbed her by the hair, and slapped her dozens of times. Then, I used the connections my father had spent a lifetime building and reported all of Kane’s illegal activities and violent crimes to the city police. I was going to drag him down from his throne and turn him back into the begging, worthless orphan he was. But reality delivered another crushing blow. With a single phone call, Kane made all my reports disappear into thin air. Instead, I was the one charged with “malicious slander and public disturbance.” The day before I was taken into custody, Kane came to see me. His voice was calm and cold. “Li, give up. You can’t beat me. I have connections on both sides of the law now. I’m not the same street punk who needed your father’s help to survive.” He paused, a hint of pity in his tone. “But, for the sake of our past, if you admit you were wrong and promise not to bother Chloe again, you can still be my wife in name. Out of respect for what your parents did for me, I won’t treat you poorly.” But I was young and proud. How could I endure my husband loving another woman? I screamed at him, calling him a heartless, ungrateful dog. If it weren’t for me, he would have frozen to death in the snow. Perhaps my words stung him, or perhaps he really wanted to teach me a lesson for Chloe’s sake. Kane signed the detention papers without hesitation. The days in the holding cell were far worse than I had ever imagined. It was dark, damp, and the air was a permanent, nauseating mixture of sweat, body odor, and rancid food. A dozen people were crammed into a tiny room, where we ate, slept, and relieved ourselves. The bunk I was assigned was right next to the toilet, perpetually reeking of urine. Our daily meals consisted of a watery soup with a few rotting vegetable leaves and hard, stale buns that could break your teeth. Just as I was on the verge of a complete breakdown, Kane had me released. Because in the holding cell, they discovered I was pregnant. 5 After getting out, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the men were looking at me strangely. I finally asked and found out what had happened. When my father heard about what Kane had done to me, he went to him that very night, begging him to let me go. When Kane refused, they argued, and it turned violent. On his way home, my father was hit and killed by a runaway truck. Grief-stricken and furious, my brother, seeking justice, had Chloe kidnapped. But the men Kane sent to rescue her “accidentally” shot and killed him. My mother, who already had a weak heart, couldn’t handle the successive blows. Her heart gave out, and she was gone too. When I learned the truth, I felt like my soul had been ripped from my body. I stopped fighting. I stopped caring about Kane and Chloe. I spent my days curled up in my room, an empty puppet consumed by the overwhelming grief of losing my family. Kane came to see me, a rare visit. He held my hand and apologized. “Li, I’m so sorry about your parents and your brother. I never wanted to hurt them.” He placed his hand on my stomach. “We have a child now. For the sake of this child, please, let’s stop fighting.” Tears streamed down my face. This time, I chose silence. Not for him, but for the tiny life inside me. My parents and brother were gone because of me. This piece of my own flesh and blood became the only reason I had left to live. The ordeal had broken my spirit. After staying with me for a few days, Kane quickly returned to Chloe’s side. He even rented out a private island to throw a lavish wedding for her. When I saw the two of them on that island, exchanging vows of eternal love, I broke all over again. When Kane and I got married, I didn’t even have a proper wedding dress. When I told him I wanted a big wedding, he said, “Li, ceremonies are just formalities. Besides, you know how much I hate all that fuss.” Because I loved him, I compromised. And because I loved him, I lost everything. The emotions I had suppressed for so long finally erupted. I couldn’t stay by his side any longer. Just as I was preparing to leave, Chloe found me, dressed in her pristine white wedding gown. Her face was a mask of triumph. “Clara, your father didn’t have to die. But he was so entitled, trying to use his past favors to threaten Kane into releasing you. Things aren’t that simple. So I sent some people to teach him a little lesson. Who knew he’d be so fragile? He died on the spot.” “As for your brother, he dared to kidnap me. So Kane had no choice but to send him on his way!” Chloe’s words were the final straw. I lost my mind. I grabbed her, and pulled her with me as I jumped from the third-story window. The moment Kane rushed outside, I couldn’t see his expression clearly. I only saw him, without a moment’s hesitation, catch the screaming Chloe while I slammed into the ground. Through the searing pain, I felt a hot rush of liquid from between my legs. A tiny life, slipping away from my body. My leg was shattered, the baby was gone, and the last flicker of my will to live was extinguished. But I didn’t die. Kane had his men rush me to the hospital. Everyone said I had gone insane. But I knew with perfect clarity that I was not. When Kane came to visit me, I lunged at him with a fruit knife. My family had paid with three lives. This time, Kane didn’t hesitate. He called the police. I was sentenced to three years for assault. A set of divorce papers soon followed. Kane finally got what he wanted. He was free to be with Chloe, legally and publicly. I was released early for good behavior. With the meager compensation I received, I left the territory under Kane’s control. I came to Southport and opened a small dessert shop. Life was hard, but for my parents and my brother, I forced myself to live. To live until I could find a way to avenge them. To live until I could see their murderers burn in hell. … A chill wind brought me back to the present. I bowed my head one last time to the headstone, bidding my family farewell. I was about to stand and leave. But as I turned, I saw him. A short distance away, Kane was watching me, his expression impossible to read.

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Seven years after I vanished, my brother found me on an organ donation registry. He stared at the file in the nurse’s hands, his brow furrowed as he took in the photo and the name I used to go by. “Where is she?” “Palliative care, twelfth floor. Today’s the last day she’ll be lucid. The surgery is tomorrow.” His face a thundercloud, he stormed up to the twelfth floor. When he shoved the door open, he found me writing my last will and testament. “Vicky.” I looked up, a placid smile touching my lips. “You must have the wrong person, Mr. Miller. My name is Ava now. Not Vicky.” He stalked toward the bed, his voice rigid. “Come home. Apologize to Lily, and I’ll get you the best doctors money can buy.” “No, thank you,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I have nothing to apologize for.” Without looking up again, I signed the last letter of my name on the donation forms. … After a long, tense silence, he let out a cold laugh. “Still playing the victim. Seven years, and you still have that same innocent act down.” “You’re sick? What is it? Why the surgery?” I managed a small, tired smile. “Late-stage glioblastoma. I don’t have much time left.” “Rather than rotting in the ground, I figured my organs could save a few lives.” Graham’s expression flickered for a moment, a brief flash of something unreadable before his cold mask snapped back into place. “Spare me the act. You think playing the pity card will make me go soft on you?” His eyes swept over the bare, cheap room, a sneer twisting his lips. “Looks like life on your own didn’t treat you so well. If you hadn’t done what you did, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.” I glanced down at my own skeletal hands, saying nothing. “Vicky…” he said suddenly, his voice laced with a strange, struggling note. “Are you really that sick?” I met his gaze, my own eyes chillingly calm. “What’s it to you, Mr. Miller?” “I’m your brother!” “My brother’s sister died seven years ago.” His face turned ashen with fury, his eyes locked on mine. “You hate me that much? Don’t you remember what happened back then? It was your own…” “Enough,” I cut him off. “You didn’t come here to dredge up the past, did you, Graham? Whatever you want, just say it.” He opened his mouth, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. “Let me guess,” I said slowly, the realization dawning with a cold, sickening clarity. “She needs a liver, doesn’t she?” Graham didn’t answer. But the way his gaze darted away told me everything I needed to know. I leaned back against the pillows, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. “So that’s it.” “After seven years, she finally remembers her big sister.” “You’re here to ask for my liver for her, aren’t you?” “Not ask,” he corrected, his voice hard. “It’s what you should do. You volunteered the first time, and now Lily needs it again. You’re still her sister. It’s your responsibility.” The sheer absurdity of it all washed over me. “Graham, when you threw me out of the house seven years ago, did you think of me as her sister then?” “You brought that on yourself!” he shot back, his voice rising. “If you hadn’t done all those vicious things, framing Lily, why would I have ever kicked you out? You’re still lying, still playing the innocent victim. Did you think hiding for seven years would make me forget what you did?” I closed my eyes, my heart a dead weight in my chest. He never once doubted. He never once believed it wasn’t me. “Just go,” I whispered, exhausted. “I need to rest.” “Vicky!” He grabbed my shoulders, his grip like iron. “Listen to me! Lily needs your liver!” I opened my eyes and looked straight into his. “Then she’ll have to wait for a donor. My organs are already promised to strangers.” “You—” He was shaking with rage. “How can you be so heartless? Lily saved my life! Without her, the Miller family wouldn’t exist today! And you… you’re just an ungrateful viper!” I said nothing, simply turning my head to look out the window. “I’m going to make this very clear, Vicky,” he said, releasing me. His voice dropped to an icy whisper. “If you don’t save Lily, I won’t let you die. Not peacefully.” “I’ll use every resource the Miller family has to keep you alive. I’ll make you live a life so miserable, you’ll beg for death.” His threats landed on me like stones in a dead sea. Not a single ripple. “Do whatever you want.” He gave me one last, hard look before turning and storming out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him. I lay alone in the hospital bed as silent tears finally traced paths down my temples. My mind drifted back fourteen years. I was thirteen, and Graham was twenty-one. Our parents had died together in a car crash, leaving behind a massive family fortune and a horde of greedy relatives circling like vultures. Back then, Graham was like a wolf protecting his cub. He shielded me from everything, shouldering the entire weight of the world on his own. At the funeral, a drunken uncle pointed a finger at me, slurring, “You little curse! If it wasn’t for you, your parents would still be alive!” Graham laid him out with a single punch, leaving him bloody on the floor. “Anyone who touches a hair on my sister’s head,” he snarled, “will wish they were never born.” That night, he held me as I cried myself sick, whispering it over and over again. “It’s okay, Vicky. I’m here.” “I’ll always protect you, for the rest of my life.” And I believed him. I thought it would always be the two of us against the world. But when our half-sister, Lily, arrived, everything shattered. She was frail and sickly, so Graham gave her my room, the one with the best sunlight. She was a picky eater, so he took her out to fancy restaurants every night. She was afraid of sleeping alone, so he’d sit in her room until she drifted off. A month before my final exams, Lily was diagnosed with a rare liver disease. She was dying. Graham was frantic. He flew her to the best hospitals in the country, consulted with every top specialist. The doctors gave him two options: wait for a donor or find a living relative for a transplant. Waiting could take a year, maybe two. She didn’t have that long. For a living transplant, they needed a direct relative with a matching blood type. In the entire family, only I was a match. He came to talk to me while I was studying in my small, dim room. “Vicky,” he began, his voice softer than it had been in months. “You’ve heard about Lily, right?” I didn’t respond. “The doctors say your liver is the most compatible.” I turned a page in my textbook. “Vicky, she’s going to die,” his voice trembled. “Please. I’m begging you. Save her.” I finally looked up at him. “Graham, do you remember the last time I was sick?” He blinked, thrown. “I had a 104-degree fever. I was alone in my room for two days, and no one checked on me. Where were you? You were out shopping with Lily. Because she said she was feeling a little down.” He opened his mouth. “Vicky, I was wrong about that…” “And what about the time I was pushed down the stairs?” I cut him off. “I told you Lily did it. What did you say? You said I was clumsy and trying to blame her.” His face went pale. “Vicky…” “You want me to save her, Graham?” I stood up, facing him directly. “Fine.” “But after this, we’re even. I’m no longer a part of this family, and you are no longer my brother.” He flinched as if I’d struck him. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying I’ll donate part of my liver,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “But after it’s done, I’m leaving. And you will all act as if I’m dead.” He was silent for a long, heavy moment. Finally, he nodded. On the day of the surgery, as they wheeled me into the operating room, I saw him standing by the door. His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something. But in the end, he said nothing at all. The surgery was a success. Lily lived. I lost a third of my liver and never set foot in the Miller house again. That afternoon, Graham returned. This time, Lily was with him. After seven years, she had grown even more beautiful, her eyes still dark and luminous. Graham sat by my bed. “Vicky, Lily came to see you.” “Vicky,” Lily stepped forward, her eyes welling with tears. “I heard you were sick. I was so worried…” “Cut the act,” I snapped. “It’s just the three of us here. Who are you performing for?” Lily’s face went white, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Why do you hate me so much, Vicky? What happened back then wasn’t my fault…” “Not your fault?” I scoffed. “Lily, you stole my login and posted those disgusting things about yourself in the class group chat. You cheated off my exam paper. You pushed me down the stairs. None of that was you?” “That’s enough!” Graham shot to his feet. “Vicky, it’s been seven years! Are you still telling those same lies?” “All the evidence pointed to you! When are you going to stop trying to frame Lily? You were jealous of her, jealous that she was better than you, so you made up all these stories to destroy her!” His words were like knives, each one twisting deeper into my heart. “Graham, are you so sure that I’m the one who’s lying?” “Aren’t you?” he retorted. “The teachers, the students… they all saw what you did back then. You were the one bullying her, you were the one consumed by jealousy!” I closed my eyes, too weary to fight anymore. It was useless. He would never believe me. “Vicky,” Lily moved closer, reaching for my hand. “I know you hate me. But when Graham told me you were sick, I was truly heartbroken… If you need money for treatment, I’ll give you all my savings…” I yanked my hand away. “Save your little theatrics, Lily!” I turned my gaze to Graham. “Alright, I know why you’re both here. But my answer is no. I’m not giving her my liver.” “I would rather give it to a complete stranger than save her a second time.” Graham’s face became a mask of cold fury. “Are you really that heartless, Vicky?” “Yes, I am,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “Seven years ago, I gave her a third of my liver. And what did I get in return? You threw me out on the street! Now you come back asking for more? On what grounds?” “You deserved it!” “Fine,” I nodded slowly. “Then if she doesn’t get a transplant now, I guess she deserves that, too.” “After all, you reap what you sow.” Graham trembled with rage. He lunged forward and grabbed the collar of my hospital gown. “Don’t push me, Vicky!” “Or what?” I stared right back at him, unafraid. “Are you going to hit me? Kill me? I’m already dying. Go ahead.” His hand was shaking. After a moment, he released me, taking a deep, ragged breath. “Vicky, I’m asking you one last time. Will you save Lily?” “No.” “Fine,” he sneered. “Then don’t blame me for what comes next.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Do it. Just like we discussed.” A cold dread filled my stomach. “What are you doing?” “Nothing,” he said, pocketing his phone. “Since you’re so eager to donate your organs to strangers, I’ll just have to make sure those strangers never get them. I’m having the hospital cancel your donation request.” “And then,” he continued, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, “I’m going to use every resource the Miller family has to keep you alive. You’ll stay in this world, in agony, until you agree to save Lily.” My eyes widened in horror. “You’re insane!” “You drove me to this,” he said coldly. “You’re so selfish, Vicky. You’d rather let innocent people die than let go of your pathetic pride and resentment. You’re just as vicious as you were seven years ago.” With that, he took Lily by the arm and left. I lay in bed, my body shaking with helpless fury. That evening, a hospital administrator informed me that my organ donation surgery had been cancelled. “We received a report expressing concern over your mental state, suggesting you may not be fit to make this decision. We’ll need to conduct a new psychological evaluation, which could take at least a month.” The next morning, I was transferred. To the best private hospital in the state. My room was a VIP suite, and my new doctor was the nation’s leading neuro-oncologist. Graham stood in the middle of the opulent room, looking down at me. “You will cooperate with the treatment. After Lily’s surgery is done, you can live or die. I won’t care.” “Graham, this is kidnapping! It’s illegal!” “Call it whatever you want,” he shrugged, completely unconcerned. “I’m saving your life. Who’s going to argue with that?” “You’re a monster!” “You made me one.” He leaned over my bed, his face close to mine. “If you had just agreed, Vicky, none of this would have been necessary.” I stared into his eyes and saw nothing but a terrifying, obsessive madness. He would do exactly what he threatened. “Fine,” I closed my eyes, the fight draining out of me. “I’ll do it.” He froze. “What did you say?” “I said I’ll save her.” I opened my eyes, my gaze flat and empty as I looked at him. “But I have one condition.” “Name it.” “After the surgery, you leave me alone. You don’t interfere. You let me die how I choose.” He hesitated for a moment. “Fine. I agree.” The next day, they wheeled me into surgery. Graham stood by the door, his expression unreadable. “Vicky…” I didn’t look at him. I just closed my eyes. The surgery took four hours. It was a success. Another piece of my liver was placed inside Lily’s body. Afterward, I was moved to the ICU. Suddenly, a shrill alarm blared through the unit. “Patient is in cardiac arrest! Code Blue!” The heart monitor let out one long, continuous tone. My heart stopped. My soul felt light, drifting upward, out of my body. Through the glass wall of the ICU, I saw Graham. He was talking to a doctor, his face relaxed, relieved that Lily’s surgery had gone well. When a nurse rushed out to give him the news of my death, he just gave a short, dismissive “Okay,” his brow barely twitching. But just then, a commotion erupted down the hall. “Mr. Miller! Mr. Miller!” It was his assistant, breathless and frantic. “We found it! The truth about what happened seven years ago! All the evidence is right here!” The assistant held out a tablet. Graham took it, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief, and then to bone-white horror as he scrolled through the contents. “No… it can’t be…” His head snapped up, his eyes flying to my lifeless body in the ICU. They were bloodshot, filled with a storm of shock, regret, and utter despair. On the tablet screen, the evidence stabbed into him, piece by piece. A security video, grainy but clear, showed Lily sneaking my phone out of my bag. It showed her typing furiously, her lips curled into a triumphant smirk, before carefully placing the phone back exactly where she found it. Another video, from the day of the exam. It showed Lily leaning over to look at my paper while I was in the restroom, then later “accidentally” telling the teacher how I’d stayed up all night and miraculously guessed all the key topics. But the worst was the footage from the stairwell.

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