At the wrap party, everyone was cheering and egging on Valerie Stone and Chase Montgomery to “recreate the kiss” from the show. The two looked at each other and shared a knowing smile. A second later, their lips were locked together. Amidst the excited screams, someone suddenly shouted, “Let’s get the second male lead and the female lead to share one too!” Valerie’s eyes instantly darkened. I was the second male lead. And I was Valerie’s actual boyfriend. 1 The room fell completely silent under Valerie’s icy glare. It was a little awkward. Chase quickly grabbed Valerie’s hand. “Alright, guys, knock it off. I’ll kiss Val again for you, but don’t force her to do something she doesn’t like.” Something she doesn’t like? I wonder who it was that got drunk the night before and clung to me, kissing me for ten minutes straight. I set down my glass, stood up, and walked toward Valerie. “It’s just a kiss, isn’t it?” I smiled. “It’s no big deal. Play along, our Best Actress.” Valerie furrowed her brows. “Wyatt.” It was a warning tone. “Wyatt,” Chase also reached out to shield Valerie. “Everyone’s just joking around. Don’t take it seriously.” I lowered my gaze. Valerie’s hand was resting perfectly on his waist. The way they were holding each other, you’d think they were tragically being torn apart. “Screw off,” I said flatly. Chase froze, turning to look at Valerie. Valerie’s face grew even darker. “Wyatt, stop causing a scene,” she said sternly. Chase tugged at her arm gently. “Wyatt must be drunk. It’s the wrap party today, you can’t be mad at him.” She let out a soft, affectionate huff and flipped her hand over, gently holding his. How incredibly intimate. I looked up at this woman leaning into Chase’s embrace. Just like in the show, I was the malicious supporting character, and she was fiercely in love with the leading man. Even though I was her actual boyfriend, she had never once acknowledged me in front of others. “Screw off,” I repeated, swallowing my disgust. “This time, both of you. Screw off together.” 2 The main characters, of course, did not screw off. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, I slammed the door and left. While I was sitting alone on the hotel rooftop having a drink, a text from Valerie came through. “Come back and apologize to Chase.” “Just say you had too much to drink.” Heh. Without a second thought, I blocked her number. A light drizzle began to fall from the sky, and I looked up. I couldn’t help but think about the four years I had spent with Valerie. For four years, I stayed by her side, watching her grow from a trending internet star to an award-winning A-lister. Back then, she starred in a low-budget web series that accidentally blew up. Her agency arranged for her to do a PR showmance with the male lead, Chase, and she had no way to refuse. She was miserable at first. She used to hold me and say, “I really don’t want to fake this relationship with him. I have to pretend he’s you just to force a smile.” She said, “Wyatt, wait for me. Wait until I’m a big star who can stand on my own, wait until I’m no longer controlled by them. I promise I’ll tell the whole world that I love you.” Back then, we would dream about our future together. A dog, two kids, three meals a day, four seasons a year, our hearts beating as one. When did it start to change? She replied to my texts less and less, yet the way she looked at Chase grew softer and softer. They kept up their PR romance for four years. They never officially confirmed it, but the tension was always there. In public, he would tie her shoelaces on set and take her for scenic bike rides into the hills between takes. In private, she would lend him her lawyers for his defamation suits and bring him along to private dinners with renowned directors. The fans called them the “Details Couple,” always finding sweet little romantic clues in their interactions. Maybe some things, after being acted out for so long, eventually become real. I was just trapped in the game, too foolish to realize it. 3 When my manager, Toby, called, I was already a little tipsy. “Wyatt, where are you?” I mumbled a vague response. “Something happened! You’re trending everywhere!” Trending? That sobered me up halfway. I opened my phone. Someone had leaked a video of the wrap party online. The top four trending hashtags were all about Valerie and Chase. #ValerieAndChaseChemistry #ValerieChaseWrapPartyKiss #WhenWillValerieAndChaseGoPublic #HowMuchWouldYouGiveForValerieChaseWedding And starting from the fifth spot, it was all me. #WyattTheClown #WyattBullyingChase #WyattNepoBaby The comments under the tags were tearing me apart. “Who does this guy think he is? Does he have no shame? With that filthy mouth of his, he actually thought he could kiss our Valerie.” “So disgusting. Did they spray air freshener in the room after he left?” “He acts like such a diva, slamming the door and storming out. Who gave him the audacity? Someone needs to investigate who his sugar daddy is. Trash.” “Ugh, I’m so mad! Just because he bought his way in doesn’t mean he gets to bully our Chase!” “I usually separate the character from the actor, but with Wyatt, he was clearly just playing himself.” “Zero acting skills and brought his own funding. I heard he practically bought the second male lead role. No wonder he plays the villain so well!” Bought the role. Heh. I definitely didn’t buy the role. I had originally earned the male lead for this show through my own hard work. But right before filming started, Valerie’s agency pressured the producers to swap me out for Chase. They said Chase and Valerie had more on-screen chemistry, and that’s what would make the show a hit. Valerie even came to me and said that if we played a couple on screen, she’d have a hard time controlling herself and might expose our real relationship. I refused and got into a massive fight with her. “My contract with the agency is expiring soon. Wyatt, can’t you just be understanding for once?” She said I wasn’t thinking about her. But she had no idea how hard I had worked to win that role. The director didn’t agree with the change at first either. She chatted with me, saying she would stick by her casting choice. But the next day, the director was fired. And I was reassigned to the second male lead. The malicious villain. That night, watching Valerie and Chase do joint promotional interviews for the new show, I chewed on a piece of plain bread bite by bite. They say bread tastes sweeter the longer you chew it, but all I tasted was bitterness. Sometimes, people just refuse to give up hope until they see and hear it with their own eyes and ears. Back then, I still harbored a sliver of delusion. I thought that once her contract ended and she was free of her restrictions, we could finally be together openly. I wanted to be close to her. I wanted to spend more time with her, so I still took the role. But it felt like swallowing knives every day, witnessing her and Chase’s “sweet affection” off-camera, every single second. I scrolled further down and saw another trending tag. #ValerieProtectsHerMan The comments were flooded with demands for them to get married. And of course, every few lines, there was a curse or insult hurled at me. They said someone who bullies people like I do should go die. An hour had passed. Valerie hadn’t posted a single clarification. Everyone involved stayed completely silent, letting the trending tags climb to the very top. I took out my phone and unblocked Valerie. I had been impulsive earlier. Things still needed to be made clear. Word by word, I typed out the sentence I never thought I would ever write. “Valerie, let’s break up.” 4 It took Valerie three hours to find me. “Are you drunk? Did you seriously block me?!” she said, walking over and grabbing my arm. “Don’t touch me,” I said, shaking her off. “Wyatt, there’s a limit to throwing a tantrum,” she lowered her voice. “Causing a scene at the wrap party was your fault to begin with.” “Was I wrong to ask you to apologize? You could have solved this with a simple apology, but you had to blow it up so the whole internet knows.” I let out a dry laugh. “And did you suffer any losses?” She went silent. Of course she didn’t. This was incredible free publicity. The show was viral before it even aired. That was why all the trending hate toward me was still up. Nobody was going to deal with it. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. I stood up unsteadily and pushed her away. “Valerie, I really mean it. We’re done. Stay as far away from me as possible from now on.” “You’re drunk.” She frowned. “I mean every word.” Valerie stared at me silently for a moment, sighed, and softened her tone. “Honey, let’s stop fighting, okay? Let’s go home.” “You leave. Toby is coming to pick me up soon!” But instead of leaving, she forcefully squeezed into my arms. “Stop making a fuss. Come home with me. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you this time, but you are never allowed to mention breaking up again. Do you hear me?” With that, she looked up and tried to kiss me. To be honest, her tricks used to work on me. A few times when we fought over Chase, this was exactly how she coaxed me back. But this time, just thinking about how she had been plastered against Chase a few hours ago made my stomach turn. “Valerie! Stone!” I pushed her away with all my strength and turned my head. “Do you not understand English? I am breaking up with you!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rooftop door. Toby was standing there, his eyes wide. He must have just arrived. I pushed Valerie away, grabbed Toby’s arm, and walked off. “Wyatt!” Valerie’s voice rang out from behind, carrying the subtle, bruised anger of someone who had just lost face. “Say what you just said one more time.” I took a deep breath, turned around, looked her in the eye, and enunciated every word. “I. Want. To. Break. Up. With. You.” “Fine. Fine. Perfect,” she laughed coldly. “A breakup, right?” “I accept. Don’t come crawling back.”

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Four years after my death, Nana dug out my old cell phone and called Olivia. Olivia: “It’s been exactly four years, and you finally thought to call me?” “What, did your sugar mamas run out of cash? If you’re broke, just go find a few more women to sell yourself to. Don’t play the victim with me.” “Let me tell you something: I don’t ever want to see you again, even if you’re dead!” On the other end of the line, Nana froze, her hunched back looking especially frail and lonely. She clutched the phone and asked cautiously, “Livvy, did you and my Ethan get into a fight? I can’t find him.” After saying that, Nana stared blankly across the empty room. As if suddenly remembering something, she murmured, “Oh, right. Ethan is dead. He’s gone. How could I forget again…” 1 Maybe it was because I couldn’t bear to leave Nana behind, but I stayed by her side as a spirit after I died. Unfortunately, Nana had Alzheimer’s, and she often forgot that I was dead. This time, she had another episode. She wandered off to the park by herself and forgot the way home. The stubborn little old lady sat on a bench, muttering to herself, “It’s okay if I can’t find the way. When Ethan realizes I’m not home, he’ll definitely come out looking for me.” My soul was hovering right beside her. Even though she wasn’t far from home, she couldn’t hear me, so I had no way to point her in the right direction. As the sun began to set, my ghostly form started pacing around frantically. An eighty-year-old woman spending the night alone in the park—she wouldn’t be able to handle the cold. Fortunately, Nana seemed to realize this too. Looking at the thinning crowd, she finally stood up. She walked up to someone, grabbed their arm, and asked, “Have you seen my grandson, Ethan?” I knew that as long as she asked someone, they would chat with her, realize she was lost, and probably take her to the local police precinct. Once she was at the precinct, she would get home safely. Unfortunately, Nana asked the wrong person. Because the person she grabbed was Olivia. Olivia looked down at Nana, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Where did Ethan go? Why are you out here alone?” “It’s so late and he just left you sitting in a park? He’s probably out messing around with…” 2 She didn’t finish the sentence, perhaps out of respect for Nana. But I knew exactly what she meant. She wanted to say I was probably out messing around with some random woman. See? Even though I had been dead for four years, this woman’s disgust for me hadn’t faded one bit. Nana didn’t pick up on the hostility. Seeing Olivia actually made her incredibly happy. “Livvy! It’s been so long since you came over for dinner. Don’t you love Nana’s homemade pot roast? Tomorrow is your birthday, come over and eat.” “You young people need to treat each other well when you’re dating. My Ethan is a good boy, he just likes to keep his feelings bottled up.” “When he left the house today, he said he was going to buy you a birthday present. He wanted to give you a surprise tomorrow.” So Nana’s memory was stuck on that exact day. Back then, we were still deeply in love, attached at the hip like any other passionately dating couple. And her childhood sweetheart hadn’t returned yet. What a shame. Hearing this, a mocking smirk tugged at the corner of Olivia’s mouth. “Nana, this isn’t funny.” “Ethan and I already broke up.” “And if he went out to buy a birthday present, it was probably for another woman.” Nana stared at her, stunned. “You broke up? But Ethan never told me.” “Livvy, don’t be mad. When Ethan gets back, I’ll teach him a lesson!” The little old lady looked adorable when she was angry. I wanted to hug her, to tell her not to be upset, but my arms just phased right through her body. Four years, and I still hadn’t gotten used to being nothing but a ghost. 3 Olivia’s smile grew wider, colder. She obviously didn’t believe a word Nana said. “I told you, we are completely over.” “If this is just some trick Ethan taught you to play, I’ll let it slide this one time.” “But please, never bring up his name in front of me again.” Just then, two neighborhood ladies walked over, looking surprised to see Nana. “Ma’am, it’s so late, why aren’t you home yet? Did you forget where you live again?” Then, one of them whispered to the other, clicking her tongue. “It’s a tragedy, really. She and her grandson were all each other had, but then the boy died four years ago. Now it’s just this poor old lady all by herself.” Yeah, I died four years ago. I remember that birthday four years ago. I went to the mall, full of excitement to buy her a present, only to see her walking arm-in-arm with another man. After stumbling out of the mall in a daze, I got a DM on Instagram from a stranger. I opened it. It was a selfie of a guy in a white button-down shirt, lying on messy white hotel sheets. Right next to him on the nightstand was a distinct, elegant custom lapel pin. Along with the photo was a message: They say a new fling can never beat a childhood sweetheart. Think you stand a chance against me? I recognized that lapel pin. It was the birthday present I had given her. I remembered it so vividly because, even though it wasn’t wildly expensive, I had designed and crafted every piece of it myself. Olivia never minded that it wasn’t a luxury brand. She even wore it to major corporate board meetings. She used to say it was the symbol of our love. But now, that symbol was casually sitting by another man’s hotel bed. That was the moment I realized love could be so incredibly cheap. 4 Hearing the neighborhood lady’s words, Olivia’s entire body went rigid. A chaotic mix of emotions flashed across her face. Finally, she asked in disbelief, “What did you just say? Ethan is dead?” “You’re lying to me, right? Ethan put you up to this.” “That man is a pathological liar.” The two ladies looked shocked. While holding onto Nana, they muttered to each other: “Who is this girl? Is she crazy?” “Seriously, who lies about someone being dead? That’s just cursing them.” Hearing them, Nana seemed to remember again. She opened her mouth, her lips trembling, and finally whispered, “Yes… my Ethan… he’s gone…” Olivia just stood there, completely frozen, looking almost ridiculous. And my drifting soul followed the two ladies as they helped Nana walk all the way home. When Nana finally stepped through the front door, I actually felt relieved that Olivia hadn’t followed us. Perhaps remembering my death made Nana sad. The lonely little old lady sat on the sofa, her thin, frail hands tracing the glass of my photograph as she cried silently. “Tell me, you were so young, how could you leave your Nana behind?” I floated over, trying to wipe her tears, but grabbed nothing but air. I could only cry with her. “Nana, I didn’t leave. I’m right here.” But she couldn’t hear me. Right then, the doorbell rang, followed by Olivia’s voice. “Nana, open the door. It’s me, Olivia.” I panicked. No. Don’t open the door for her. If she comes in and starts going through my old things… 5 I didn’t dare to imagine what would happen. Nana was a bit slow to react. Hearing the doorbell and the shouting, she slowly turned her head. She seemed to be trying to process it. Outside, Olivia’s voice rang out again: “Nana, just let me in.” “Ethan, I took a second to calm down and think about it. There’s no way you’re actually dead. You just wanted to trick me into coming over.” “Well, I’m here now! Stop pretending and open the door!” She was pounding on the door and aggressively ringing the bell. I was furious. All this shouting was going to terrify Nana. She never used to act like this. Back then, whether it was to me or Nana, she spoke softly, always terrified of sounding too harsh. But now, she wasn’t just ringing the bell; she was practically trying to break the door down. Filled with resentment, I rushed to the door to warn her off. But my ghostly form just phased right through the wood. No matter how angry I was, I was just weightless air. Because I couldn’t teach her a lesson, I felt completely helpless. Tears of pure frustration welled up in my eyes. But I was just a ghost; even crying lacked the cathartic release it had when I was alive. I screamed at her, “Yeah! I’m lying to you! So leave! Get out of here and don’t ever come back!” While I was throwing my tantrum outside, a loud crash echoed from inside the apartment. Terrified something happened to Nana, I phased back through the door. Thankfully, Nana was still sitting safely in her chair. It was just a picture frame that had fallen to the floor. Nana, looking as if she had just woken from a dream, stared at the frame on the floor and slowly bent down to pick it up. Holding it in her hands, she gently wiped my photo over and over again. “It got dirty. Ethan loved this picture the most. Thank goodness the glass didn’t break.” She was right. It used to be my favorite photo. Because Olivia had taken it. But I wanted to tell Nana that it wasn’t my favorite anymore. My favorite photo was the one sitting right next to her hand—a picture of me and her together.

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At the age of eight, I was taken in by the Sinclair family as their adopted daughter. They treated me like their own flesh and blood, and my brother granted my every wish. At my eighteenth birthday party, I accidentally got drunk and laid my heart bare. —I confessed my feelings to my brother. I thought I had just made a fool of myself. But I never expected that Carter’s endless pampering would be entirely withdrawn after that night. 1 I could feel Carter deliberately distancing himself from me. He left early, came home late, and practically ignored my texts. Growing up, Carter was the quintessential aloof heartthrob in everyone’s eyes. No matter how much people hyped his cold demeanor, he still had two lockers full of love letters. But to me, Carter was just a normal, doting older brother. If I cried, he coaxed me; if I caused trouble, he cleaned up the mess. Others teasingly called him fiercely overprotective of his little sister. He never denied it. I always thought I was special to him. It wasn’t until I took a hard fall and busted my lip that I realized the truth. Without the label of “sister,” I was absolutely nothing. When I realized Carter had stopped coming home altogether, I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened anymore. Because I remembered, and Carter remembered too. Mom packed a thermos of soup and asked me to drop it off at his company and bring him home. “Your brother dotes on you the most. He’ll definitely listen to you.” I forced a smile, bitterness flooding my mouth. When I reached the top-floor executive suite, Carter was still working overtime. Seeing it was me, his face remained expressionless as he shifted his gaze back to his screen. I placed the thermos on his desk. The moment I opened the lid, the rich aroma of homemade chicken noodle soup filled the room. “Carter, Mom made this. She wants you to come home and stop working so late.” “Mhm.” I gripped my sleeves tightly and offered a bitter smile. “Carter, I’m sorry about that night… I hope I didn’t freak you out. I drank too much and mistook you for someone else. Please don’t take it to heart.” Carter finally shifted his gaze back to me, his dark eyes bottomless and unreadable. “Mistook me for someone else? I don’t think you know another guy named Carter. Emma, you called my name, told me you liked me, and kissed me.” All the color instantly drained from my face. Carter’s casual words had basically handed me a death sentence. I gripped my trembling hands, desperately trying to stay calm. “Carter, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He had never called me by my full first name before—not even when he was scolding me. So this was what he looked like when he completely stripped away his affection. “Carter, Mom is really worried about you. Just come home. This is your family, after all.” My voice grew hoarse. “If anyone should leave, it’s me. You don’t have to hide from me anymore. I’ll move out… Just stop hiding.” “Suit yourself,” he replied coldly. 2 I moved out, and stayed away for two whole years. I didn’t return home once during that time; I was even more ruthless than Carter. Mom called me more than once, crying and saying how much she missed me. All I felt was a suffocating sense of guilt. I was a complete and utter bitch. They treated me like blood, provided me with food and a luxurious life. Without them, I might have died a long time ago. Yet I was shameless enough to covet their real son. Even if they wanted me home, what right did I have to show my face there? When flu season hit, I unfortunately caught the bug. Just as I swallowed two cold pills, Mom’s call came through. Not wanting her to worry about my pale face, I immediately switched the FaceTime to an audio call. “Sweetie, what are you up to?” “Just got out of the shower.” “Did you wash your hair? Don’t blow-dry it all by yourself, okay? With your brother not around, I worry about you.” I froze, feeling a sudden wave of disorientation. Living alone for two years, I thought I had forgotten. Once, while drying my hair at home, I accidentally got a lock caught in the motor of the hairdryer. Ever since then, no matter how late or tired he was, Carter would always dry my hair for me. Through my hesitation, I inexplicably sensed that Mom was in a fantastic mood today. She said, “Sweetie, are you coming home tomorrow? I’ll have your brother pick you up.” Before I could answer, she dropped the bombshell. “Your brother is bringing his girlfriend home tomorrow.” “We’re all going to have dinner and officially meet her. Sound good? Mom misses you so much.” It felt like a grenade had gone off right next to my ear. My senses failed me. It felt like that shrapnel had hit me dead center, tearing me to shreds. “Emma?” I cleared my throat, forcing a tone of pleasant surprise. “No need to bother Carter! If he’s bringing his girlfriend home, I can just catch an Uber myself.” 3 Unsurprisingly, my fever spiked that night. Not wanting to face Carter and his girlfriend so soon, I took some fever reducers and dragged my feet until dinner time before finally heading to the Sinclair estate. The moment the door opened, Mom hugged me and started crying. “Oh, my sweet girl, how did you lose so much weight?!” Terrified she would notice my fever, I quickly brushed it off with a few comforting words. Mom led me to the dining room, and as my gaze shifted, I finally saw Carter and his girlfriend. According to Mom, the two of them had known each other in college. Reconnecting after starting their careers, they were more mature, and sparks naturally flew. The woman was elegant and beautiful, a perfect match for Carter. She was exactly the type I had always imagined he would like. “Hi Carter. Hi… sister-in-law.” I greeted them warmly, but my choice of words startled her. Mom laughed, patting my shoulder, and shot a look at the blushing Chloe before playfully scolding me. “Oh, this kid! Don’t mind her, Chloe. She’s just a bit clumsy with her words, but hey, it’s bound to happen sooner or later… haha.” Chloe quickly waved her hands in embarrassment, while Carter frowned, staring at me with clear displeasure. How had I managed to piss him off again? It was a title she’d have eventually anyway. The table was filled with my favorite dishes, but I had absolutely zero appetite. After dinner, instead of joining them on the couch for small talk, I ran upstairs to pack some things. My bedroom had a massive walk-in closet where I kept all the birthday gifts I had received over the years. My twelfth birthday present was a tiara. The princess aesthetic had been hugely popular back then. Seeing how much I loved it, Carter had one custom-made for me. He had handed it over so casually, as if he’d bought a cheap trinket from a flea market. It was densely packed with sparkling stones. For the longest time, I thought they were just rhinestones. I later found out they were real diamonds. But none of these belonged to me anymore. They belonged to Carter’s “little sister.” I grabbed a few items of clothing, threw them in a suitcase, and headed downstairs. Seeing me dragging a suitcase, Mom grew frantic. “Sweetie, you can’t stay the night?” “I have some stuff to take care of for grad school.” “Carter! Get Carter to drive you back.” Mom snatched the suitcase from my grip and shoved it into Carter’s hand. He and Chloe were standing shoulder-to-shoulder; they were clearly getting ready to leave together. Why would I third-wheel their romantic drive? Chloe had her arm linked with Carter’s, but Carter was now holding my luggage. No matter how you looked at it, the scene was completely comical. “It’s fine, really! I’ll just call an Uber.” “With your brother right here, why on earth would you take an Uber?” Mom spoke to me gently, then instantly whipped her head around to scold him. “Carter Sinclair! Is it really that agonizing to drive your sister home? Why do you look so miserable?! Chloe, you need to keep a tight leash on him. If you aren’t happy with him, yell at him. If he doesn’t fix his attitude, tell me. If he still doesn’t change, then dump him! A man like this is useless anyway.” Carter just stood there in silence, getting chewed out. At his company, he was the charismatic CEO everyone swooned over. At school, he was the untouchable heartthrob. But at home, Mom tore him down to absolute zero. After taking the scolding, Carter just nodded. He dragged my suitcase and shot a look at me. “Let’s go.” 4 When the car finally parked outside a run-down, aging apartment complex, Carter couldn’t hold back anymore. “What happened to the luxury condo Mom gave you?” Even at a moment like this, my stupid brain was thinking: Is this his way of caring about me? My head was spinning. “My boyfriend lives here, so I don’t really have a choice.” Having said my piece, I tried to bolt out of the car like a fugitive. But Carter was a step faster, instantly locking the doors from the driver’s seat. “Emma, you better explain this to me right now.” His icy tone frightened Chloe, who softly tried to intervene. “Babe, what are you doing? Don’t be so fierce with Emma.” Seeing them acting so affectionate in the front seat made me feel sick to my stomach. Would Carter treat Chloe the way he used to treat me? No, they were a couple. He would treat her a hundred times better than he ever treated me. “Explain what? You can date whoever you want, but I can’t?!” “You didn’t tell me, and you didn’t tell Mom and Dad.” “Did you announce it to Mom and Dad the second you started dating? I don’t need to report every single detail of my life to you.” Something about that sentence must have triggered him. Carter’s face darkened completely. “Say that again.” I was dizzy, my face flushed with fever. I couldn’t stop coughing, and as I did, tears streamed down my cheeks. I didn’t understand what Carter wanted from me. He was the one who cast me aside, and now he was the one getting angry. “I know… I know you look down on him. You think he’s poor and beneath us.” I wiped my tears. “But I don’t have some grand ambition… I just… I just want someone who treats me well, someone who loves me. That’s all I need.”

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I am a flight attendant. My husband is incredibly successful, but he doesn’t love me. Every month, he takes a flight that I am working on. And every time, he brings a different glamorous woman by his side. My heart bleeds, but I can only endure it in silence. The last time, right before the plane was about to land, I walked over, leaned down to his ear, and whispered softly: “Carter, I agree to the divorce. I have tomorrow off. Let’s go get it done.” 1 The plane was cruising smoothly at thirty thousand feet. I was at the rear galley organizing the meal carts when the lead flight attendant, the purser, walked over. I stood up straight. “Purser.” She took the checklist from my hands and looked it over. “You’re qualified to be promoted to First Class service. Why don’t you put in for it?” “I don’t think I’m good enough yet. I still have a lot to learn.” “Humility is a virtue, but being too humble isn’t good for your career. Go heat up the meals.” She handed the checklist back to me and returned to First Class. My gaze followed her, landing on the passenger in seat 1A. No one on this crew knew that the VIP in First Class—our airline’s most elite black card holder—was my husband. But sitting next to him was a stunning, radiant woman. I couldn’t go to First Class. I couldn’t bring myself to smile, crouch down, and provide flawless service to my own husband and whatever woman he had brought along. Even though we had been married for a year, we had never truly been husband and wife. 2 I was forced onto Carter by his grandfather. My grandfather and Carter’s grandfather had served in the military together. On our wedding night, he unbuttoned his shirt halfway, stood up, and went out to the balcony to smoke. Halfway through his cigarette, he turned his head. “I own a lot of properties. I probably won’t be coming home every day. Do whatever you want with your time.” He kept his word. He only came back to our marital home about once a month. Later, rumors of him with other women started splashing across the tabloids. Before I even had the chance to call and ask him about it, he called me first. “If you want a divorce, I will agree to it at any time.” That single sentence choked the words right out of my throat. That day, all I could do was nod. “I understand.” A few weeks later, he came home. “Still haven’t filed?” At that moment, it hit me like a physical blow—he was desperate to end this marriage. I just went to bed early, completely ignoring the topic. In the middle of the night, my pillow was soaked with tears. No one knew that I had fallen in love with him a long time ago. We had actually met seven years prior. But he had long forgotten. 3 “Hello, here is your chicken entrée. Please enjoy.” After handing out the meals, I pulled the cart through the premium cabin. He was busy working on his laptop. The woman beside him, draped in a vibrant silk scarf, was admiring the clouds outside the window. The purser walked over and knelt politely beside them. “Sir, would you like to change into some slippers? I can help you with your shoes.” “I can manage, thank you.” He politely declined. “Ma’am, let me help you with your shoes so you can change into slippers.” The woman pulled her gaze away from the window. “Thank you.” The moment Carter looked up, our eyes met. I immediately averted my gaze, quickly pulling the meal cart down the aisle and out of sight. Two hours later, the plane landed. “Have a great day, goodbye.” As they deplaned, the woman linked her arm through his, the wind catching her long, wavy hair. 4 “Still staring? They’re already in their private car.” I turned around to find my colleagues grabbing their luggage bags, getting ready to disembark. “I’m sorry, Purser.” “Do you like him?” I shook my head instantly. “No.” She patted my shoulder and smiled. “Don’t pass up the next promotion.” 5 That night, Carter came home. I didn’t expect him to. When he walked in, I was sitting on the sofa, watching TV with damp hair. Honestly, my mind was entirely blank; I hadn’t absorbed a single second of the show. He was tall and imposing. The moment he stepped inside, the entire penthouse felt smaller. I wanted to ask him about earlier, but the image of them on the plane flashed through my mind, and I swallowed my words. He walked over, sat on the opposite sofa, and took a phone call. That was when I caught the faint scent of alcohol on him. I grabbed a bag of potato chips, ripped it open, and started eating them one by one. “Tomorrow, 9 AM morning briefing.” He hung up the phone and looked at me. I looked back at him. “Nothing you want to ask?” I shook my head. Putting the chips down, I walked into the bathroom. In the mirror, my face looked terrifyingly pale and quiet. When I came out, he was out on the balcony. A few seconds later, the glow from his phone screen vanished. He turned sideways, a faint smile lingering on his lips before it quickly faded away. I stood frozen, speechless. His happiness, in the end, had absolutely nothing to do with me. 6 He slept in the guest room. I woke up extremely early to head to the airport. He was up, too. The elevator descended, but we stood on opposite sides of the cab. When we reached the lobby, I stepped out, while he took it down to the parking garage. The weather that day was horrendous. During the flight, we encountered severe turbulence, and the plane dropped violently multiple times. After we finally landed safely, everyone wept in relief. That particular flight even went viral on the news. Standing in the bustling terminal, I stopped and checked my phone. Not a single call. My sorrow, in the end, had absolutely nothing to do with him either. 7 The next time I saw him was a month later, on a flight from JFK to LAX. The weather that day was absolutely gorgeous. The sun was shining brightly, and the flight was incredibly smooth. He brought the exact same girl from last time. She had very pale skin. Halfway through the flight, she rested her head on his shoulder and fell into a peaceful sleep. It also happened to be a holiday. International Women’s Day. The airline had prepared roses. “Ladies and gentlemen, today is International Women’s Day. Our airline has prepared a rose for every female passenger on board. May all the women flying with us today live fearlessly and gracefully.” “Happy holidays to you!” “Thank you, the airline is so thoughtful.” “I don’t even get flowers on normal holidays, who knew I’d get one on a plane.” “Happy holidays to you too, miss.” After handing out the flowers, I glanced toward the premium cabin. The purser was handing a rose to the girl sleeping beside him. “Happy holidays. I’ll just leave this flower on your tray table, alright?” “Sure.” 8 I went back to the galley, washed the serving trays, and sat down in my jump seat. I stared out at the sea of clouds. My heart felt quiet, yet it ached deeply. The clouds began to part. My freezing fingers twitched. I tilted my head back. Some people are just not meant to be yours. Let it go. Let him walk away. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be beginning our initial descent into LAX in thirty minutes… We hope to see you on your next journey.” The plane was about to lower its altitude. I stood up, walked over to him, and whispered softly. “Carter, I agree to the divorce. I have tomorrow off. Let’s go get it done.” 10 After work. I dragged a massive suitcase behind me. I pressed my thumb against the biometric lock and pushed the door open. Rarely, he was home early. Was it because we were getting a divorce? The penthouse wouldn’t feel so suffocating to him anymore, so he finally came home early? I hauled my suitcase inside. I started the rice cooker in the kitchen, then went to the master bedroom and began packing. He came and stood in the doorway for a moment. “Don’t pack. You can keep the house.” My body stiffened. I turned around and shook my head. “You bought this place before we got married. I didn’t contribute a single cent. I can’t take it.” With that, I went back to packing. He stood there for another minute before walking away. It was a good thing he left. Folding my clothes one by one into the suitcase, sweeping all my skincare bottles off the vanity and packing them away to take with me. It felt like I had merely been a temporary guest here. Now, it was time to move out. In that moment, I couldn’t feel even a shred of evidence that I was ever the lady of this house. Pathetic, pitiful, useless. 11 I hadn’t expected him to be home tonight. So I hadn’t bought any groceries. There was no need to act like the past, either. Whenever he came home before, I used to cook a multi-course meal, desperately trying to win his heart through his stomach. Once the rice was done, I went down to the deli on the ground floor and bought some cold salads and sides. “Let’s eat.” He put down his book by the floor-to-ceiling window and walked over. The food on the table clearly surprised him. “I thought you weren’t coming back and we were just meeting at the lawyers’ office tomorrow, so I didn’t buy groceries. We’ll just have to make do tonight.” I took a bite of plain white rice. To my surprise, the usually incredibly picky man actually sat down. We ate in total silence. Halfway through, he spoke. “Where did you buy the deli sides? They’re actually pretty good.” He even finished the entire bowl of rice I had scooped for him.

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I have a strange illness: if I don’t kiss someone, I suffer from severe, paralyzing chest pains that flare up out of nowhere. Worse yet, the only person whose kiss can cure me is my lifelong archenemy, Nate Nelson. One second, I’m glaring at him with pure hatred, and the next, I’m tugging at the hem of his shirt with teary eyes, begging, “Can you just kiss me, please?” He raised a surprised eyebrow, let out a low chuckle, and asked, “Any way I want?” 1. Nate Nelson and I have been mortal enemies since childhood. It all stems from our parents. My dad and his dad grew up together and have constantly compared themselves to one another since day one. Both of them are fiercely competitive and refuse to ever settle for second place. From middle school onward, they competed over grades and trophies. Once they started working, they competed over promotions, salaries, and eventually, their families. When Nate and I were born, they naturally passed the torch of competition down to us. When I was a kid, if I scored even one point lower than Nate, my dad would shake his head in disappointment and sign me up for another summer prep course. That’s how all my happy childhood vacations vanished into thin air. Because of this, I harbored a deep, burning hatred for the sole culprit behind my misery: Nate Nelson. 2. The day the SAT scores came out, my dad went absolutely insane with joy. I scored a 1520, practically guaranteeing my spot at Columbia University, a top-tier Ivy League school. I was thrilled too, mostly because I had discreetly fished for information from Nate right after the exam. He had looked completely exhausted and muttered, “I bombed it.” This meant we finally wouldn’t have to go to the same school! I would never have to look at his highly punchable face ever again! My dad immediately called Nate’s dad, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Hey, Mr. Reed! Did Nate get his scores back yet? Oh man, let me tell you, our Chloe really didn’t perform her best this time. She only got a 1520! Looks like she’ll have to settle for Columbia.” I have to admit, my dad’s humblebragging was incredibly obnoxious. A booming voice came through the speakerphone. “Huh? What? Only a 1520? Tsk, yeah, that really is a bit disappointing. “My boy just checked his score too. What did you get again, son? My memory is going bad in my old age. Tell your dad what you got one more time.” A lazy, drawling voice echoed through the line: “1560.” “Oh, right, a 1560! Well, looks like my son didn’t do so hot either. He’ll just have to make do with Columbia too,” Nate’s dad sighed, his tone dripping with fake pity, every single word a fatal stab to the chest. My dad and I practically coughed up blood simultaneously. Furious, I whipped out my phone and texted Nate. Me: “Didn’t you say you bombed it?! You played me!” Me: “[Dog breathing fire meme.jpg]” Nate: “I didn’t get a perfect 1600. Does that not count as bombing?” Nate: “Gotta run. See you at Columbia.” My fingers were practically sparking as I furiously typed against my screen. I could picture exactly what Nate looked like right now. He was definitely sitting somewhere slouched and lazy, wearing a smug smirk while slowly typing out the most arrogant, rage-inducing responses imaginable. Why?! Why couldn’t I even escape him in college?! If God made Chloe, why did He have to make Nate?! 3. The good news was, even though Nate and I ended up at the same university, he was on the Pre-Law track while I was an English Lit major. Our departments were on completely opposite sides of the campus. In the first month of school, I had barely run into him. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t run into him for the next four years. We could just be the most familiar strangers in the world. But my roommates didn’t share that sentiment. “Ahhhh! Girls, there’s an intramural basketball game today! Comp Sci versus Pre-Law! Guess who’s playing for Pre-Law?!” Mia squealed, clutching her phone and practically vibrating with excitement. Lexi, who always loved the drama, quickly asked, “Who? Who?! Are there hot guys?” Our edgy roommate, Roxy, raised an eyebrow. “Look at Mia drooling. It’s obviously the Pre-Law poster boy, Nate Nelson. You guys know ever since he blew up on the Campus Confessions Instagram page, Mia has been tracking his every move.” Mia giggled, blinking her big eyes. “I care about all hot guys equally. So, are we going or what?” “Let’s go. We don’t have anything better to do,” Lexi and Roxy agreed without hesitation. “Chloe, you coming?” Mia turned to me. I had absolutely zero desire to see my archenemy. Talk about bad vibes. I waved my hand. “I think I’ll pass…” Before I could finish my sentence, a robotic, electronic voice suddenly echoed inside my head. [Debuff: Angina attack. Countdown: 30 minutes.] [Cure: Kiss Nate Nelson for 5 seconds.] W-What the hell?! Was I suddenly the protagonist of some sci-fi simulation game?! 4. The cure was way too twisted. Kiss my sworn enemy?! Ha! I, Chloe Cooper, would rather die of a heart attack or jump out of a fifth-floor window today before I ever set foot on that basketball court! 5. “Wow! Chloe, did you see that?! Nate just sank another three-pointer! He is so hot!” Mia shook my arm violently, screaming until her voice cracked. To be fair, amidst the deafening roar of the crowd, her high-decibel squeal just blended into the background noise. I covered my ears and shuffled a little further away from her. Looking down at the court, staring at that tall, glowing figure standing out among the sweaty players, I felt a little guilty. Ahem. I was purely here because I love watching college boys play basketball. I totally hadn’t chickened out of my own boycott. Besides, I wasn’t here to see Nate. I was here to see— The Comp Sci player in the white number 8 jersey just passed the ball to a teammate. Catching my eye, he smiled and waved at me. Oh? I didn’t know he played too. A bit surprised, I waved back. Yep, that’s right. I was here to see him. It had absolutely nothing to do with Nate. Before I could even lower my hand, Nate, wearing his black jersey, followed Number 8’s line of sight and looked right at me. Seeing me, he seemed to freeze for a second. Then, his face went ice-cold and he swiftly looked away. That familiar, infuriating spark of rage ignited in my chest. What the hell was that expression?! Was he disgusted by me?! I hadn’t even rolled my eyes at his bad vibes yet!! I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white. “Chloe, why do you look like you’re about to murder someone?” Lexi asked, sounding slightly terrified. “Nothing, nothing. Just saw a really annoying bug, but I already squashed it.” I quickly fixed my expression and forced a smile. Roxy winked at me. “Hey, that cute guy who waved at you earlier is Caleb Hayes, a pretty well-known guy in Comp Sci. Fess up. How do you know him? What’s the tea?” I waved my hands frantically. “Don’t misunderstand! During move-in day, Caleb was a campus volunteer. He helped carry my luggage, we chatted a bit, and exchanged socials. We don’t even talk that much.” “Oh~ Sure~” Lexi and Roxy exchanged a look, dragging out their words suspiciously. Just then, Mia screamed, “Ahhh! What is going on with Nate and Caleb?! They suddenly started playing so aggressively! Two hot guys battling it out—I’m living for this!” I turned my attention back to the court. Nate cleanly dribbled past a defender, only to be blocked by Caleb. The atmosphere was suddenly suffocatingly tense, invisible sparks flying between their locking gazes. Suddenly, Nate moved. Caleb shifted left to block him, entirely falling for a fake-out. The crowd held its breath. Nate charged the hoop, leaped into the air, grabbed the rim with one hand, and delivered a flawless, thunderous slam dunk! “Hell yeah!” “Ahhhh, that was amazing!” Cheers and screams erupted from the bleachers. Yet the center of attention—Nate—just landed smoothly, his dark eyes entirely unbothered, as if that spectacular dunk was just a walk in the park. Tsk. What a show-off. I curled my lip in disgust. As he jogged back to play defense, Nate seemed to throw a side-glance in my direction. He was provoking me. Not one to back down, I glared fiercely right back at him. Right at that moment, the electronic voice echoed in my ear again. [Countdown: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…] My entire body went rigid. No way. This was actually real?! The moment the countdown hit “0”, my heart felt like it was being violently stabbed by a thousand needles. The pain was so agonizing I couldn’t breathe. My vision went black. Clutching my chest, I collapsed weakly to the floor as the crowd gasped around me. It hurts so much… [Cure: Kiss Nate Nelson for 5 seconds.] The robotic voice coldly repeated the instructions. “Chloe! Chloe Cooper! What’s wrong?! Don’t scare us!” My roommates panicked, screaming my name. The commotion on the sidelines caught the attention of the players. In my hazy state, I saw Nate drop the basketball, his face darkening as he sprinted toward me. “Chloe!” He dropped to one knee beside me, his deep eyes filled with raw panic, all his previous basketball-court arrogance completely gone. I felt Nate pull me into his arms, looking down at me. [Cure…] The pain was unbearable. Mustering the absolute last ounce of my strength, I lifted my head and pressed my lips directly against his. So soft. “!!” A ripple of shock crashed through Nate’s eyes, like a stone dropping into a clear spring. As the agonizing pain receded like a pulling tide, I heard a collective, massive gasp from the crowd around us. Oh my god, I actually kissed my archenemy. I had zero principles. Nate was definitely going to think I was secretly in love with him. He was going to be so obnoxiously smug about this! Amidst my spiraling thoughts, my consciousness faded into darkness. 6. When I woke up, I was already in the campus infirmary. My heart was beating perfectly normally, as if that suffocating agony had been a mere illusion. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a silhouette sitting by the bed. I turned my head and saw Nate slouching lazily in a chair, his long legs bent awkwardly in the cramped space. He was still wearing his black basketball jersey, which made his skin look even paler. He was looking down at his phone, his expression bored and relaxed. As if sensing my gaze, Nate looked up. The second I saw his face, my eyes unconsciously dropped to his lips. That soft, warm sensation seemed to linger in my mind, refusing to fade. “Chloe, why are you blushing?” Nate raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a half-smile. I instantly snapped my gaze away, pulling the blanket up to cover half my face, suddenly too terrified to look at him. “I’m just hot.” Nate stared intently at me, as if seeing right through me, but didn’t interrogate me any further. “Feeling better? The campus nurse said there’s nothing physically wrong with you.” “Much better.” I nodded. “Did you feel sick before you fainted? The nurse didn’t find anything, so you might need to get checked out at a real hospital.” His tone was surprisingly peaceful. I blinked. This was weird. Whenever Nate and I interacted, we usually ended up in a screaming match before exchanging two sentences. If he wasn’t throwing sarcastic jabs at me, I was mocking him. Seeing him act so genuinely concerned was giving me whiplash. “My heart just hurt a bit. I’ll go get it checked when I have time…” “Don’t tell my mom!” I quickly added. Even though our dads were sworn enemies, miraculously, my mom and his mom were absolute besties. Both women worried about us constantly. I had a strong premonition that this “angina” wouldn’t show up on any hospital scan anyway. There was no need to panic our families for nothing. A soft chuckle escaped Nate’s lips. “Fine.” His long, elegant fingers casually spun his phone around, but his dark eyes were locked directly on mine. “Under one condition: you explain why you kissed me first.” “Have a crush on me?”

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The boy next door used to be a piano prodigy. He had won countless awards by the time he was fifteen. But after he met my classmate, he gladly let her sit on his beloved piano and kiss him. He threw away his education for her, smashed his piano to pieces, and spiraled into total ruin. So, I told his parents. Because of that, the boy next door was forced to go abroad to study at a conservatory. Years later, he made a massive name for himself. He became the brightest, most untouchable superstar in the entertainment industry. And I ended up as a trainee at his management agency. Without even looking up, he pointed a finger at me. “I’ll take her.” That very night, my manager got me blackout drunk and sent me into the hotel rooms of powerful corporate investors. He stood by the doorway, biting down on a cigarette, and chuckled softly. “Consider this my way of thanking you for snitching on me back then.” I was abused to death on that freezing winter night. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before any of it had happened. 1 “Don’t you think dragging the untouchable golden boy down from his pedestal would be a total rush?” “His lips are so thin. I wonder if he’s a good kisser.” My desk-mate rested her chin on her hand, teasing playfully. Directly across the courtyard, a tall, striking silhouette sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was eighteen-year-old Caleb Bennett. I snapped out of my daze, clutching my chest and gasping heavily for air. I turned my head. The girl sitting next to me was my classmate, Ashley. In my previous life, she had sat exactly like this, resting her chin on her hand, staring at Caleb with a flirtatious gaze, looking absolutely determined to conquer him. Back then, I just thought she was talking big. But that very night, I saw her sitting on top of Caleb’s grand piano. Looking down and kissing him. I was back. I had been reborn, returning to the time before everything went wrong. I forced myself to stay calm and reached out to shut the window. “I need to study. If you don’t have anything else to do, go back to your own house.” Ashley pouted. “Aren’t you curious? I thought you had a crush on him.” I froze instantly. When I was seventeen, I made two massive mistakes. One, I secretly harbored a crush on the boy next door, but never had the courage to confess my teenage feelings. Two, I snitched on his secret relationship with Ashley. Because of that, he hated me for six years. He didn’t even hesitate to destroy me just to exact revenge for that betrayal. Thinking back to that desperate, freezing winter night in my past life… I squeezed my fingers tight, my teeth biting into my lower lip until it bled. 2 “No, I never had a crush on him.” I replied with deadpan calm. Ashley smiled slyly, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Good, then I don’t have to feel bad. I wasn’t sure how to tell you that Caleb and I are officially together. I didn’t want to trigger you.” In my past life, Ashley had brazenly staked her claim exactly like this. Ashley was a total player. Almost every decent-looking guy in school had dated her at some point. She was loud and unapologetic. While everyone else was stressing over SATs and finals, she was busy dating, smoking, drinking, and hitting the clubs. She was the exact opposite of a “good girl.” But girls like her possess a fatal attraction for guys who have spent their whole lives following the rules. Caleb was clearly one of them. I remembered the moments right before my death in my previous life. My hands, covered in cigarette burns, desperately clutching the cuff of Caleb’s crisp white shirt. I begged him to let me go. “Even if you hate me, you shouldn’t do it like this.” But Caleb just looked down at me, his cold lips curling into a smirk. He scoffed. “And how should I do it, Chloe? If it weren’t for you, Ashley wouldn’t have been forced to marry someone else, and she wouldn’t have died in childbirth. Why does she have to be dead while you get to live a perfectly happy life?” “Chloe, it’s just not fair.” He was right. Because of my snitching in our past life, Caleb was forced to move overseas. Ashley, distracted by the romance, bombed her conservatory auditions and ended up marrying a local street punk. Not long after, she got pregnant out of wedlock. Her parents disowned her. The punk bailed on her, and she ultimately bled out in a sketchy back-alley clinic. Caleb always believed that if I hadn’t told his parents, he never would have left the country. And Ashley never would have died. So, it was all my fault. I lowered my eyes. “That’s great for you guys. I wish you a long, happy life together.” Ashley gave me a weird look but didn’t say anything else. 3 Days passed by. The two of them dated in secret. Like all teenage couples, they skipped class to catch movies, got matching tattoos on their chests, and kissed on romantic Ferris wheel rides. They rode motorcycles through the midnight streets. They completely forgot that their primary identity was supposed to be high school students. I watched all of this with cold indifference. Meanwhile, I nervously prepped for my college entrance exams. In my previous life, heavily influenced by Caleb, I had chosen to attend the same performing arts high school as him, training to be a musician. I spent my life chasing his shadow, desperately hoping to touch his light. Now, I was planning to drop the arts track and switch back to standard academics. I was going to retake the standard exams and forge my own path. It was undeniably going to be a brutal uphill battle, but no matter how hard it was, I wanted to try. Until one day, I overheard Ashley bragging to some girls at school: “Caleb is just a piano nerd. He doesn’t know anything about the real world. Honestly, if he wasn’t famous for winning all those competitions and didn’t make me look good, I wouldn’t even be dating him.” Classmate A: “Yeah, right. Like he’d actually fall for you? He’s probably just messing around with you.” Ashley confidently fired back, “Don’t test me. If I tell him to jump, he asks how high.” Classmate B: “I heard he has a massive piano competition coming up. If you’re so powerful, make him skip it.” Ashley smirked. “That’s easy. Just wait and see.” I was sitting right nearby. And I knew that winning first place in that competition guaranteed a full-ride scholarship to a prestigious European conservatory. I knew exactly how important this competition was to him. Sure enough, even without my interference, the major turning point of my past life was still unfolding. In my previous life, I knew Ashley had ulterior motives. I dropped hints to Caleb several times, but he just thought I was a jealous drama queen trying to ruin their relationship. After hesitating for days, I finally chose to tell his parents. With his parents stepping in, the fallout was massive. The two were forced to break up. Caleb, devastated and completely out of it, ended up losing the first-place trophy anyway. However, he still secured an opportunity to study abroad. But he held a grudge against me for years because of it. To the point where he personally destroyed my life. By the time I snapped out of my thoughts, Ashley had leaned close to my face. She winked at me. “Chloe, you’re not going to snitch, are you?” I looked down, calmly flipping the page of my textbook. “Of course not.” This time around, I chose silence. I would respect other people’s fate. 4 Until I saw Caleb sitting on my front porch. This was the first time I had crossed paths with him since I was reborn. Thinking about what he had done to me in our past life… I swallowed down my nausea. I glanced down. Shattered beer bottles were scattered all over the ground around him. Blood was dripping steadily from his hands. The moment he saw me, he scrambled up from the ground and grabbed me, his eyes completely bloodshot. “Chloe, you and Ashley are close, right? Can you please call her for me? She said she wants to break up. I really can’t lose her.” “She said playing piano is boring. I can stop playing! The piano will never be as important as her. Just help me, please?” “I’m completely out of options. I love her. I’d give up anything for her.” I stared at the pathetic boy standing in front of me. His radiant halo was completely gone. His long, elegant, pale fingers were slashed open by glass, but he didn’t seem to care at all. In my memories, he used to guard those hands with his life. He used to say he was grateful to God for giving him hands that could play such beautiful music. He loved the rhythm of his fingers dancing across the keys. But right now, to him, a pianist’s most precious asset meant absolutely nothing compared to Ashley. He was no longer the boy I used to have a crush on. I suppose a first love is only beautiful when it stays a memory. I thought for a second, pulled out my phone, and dialed Ashley’s number. “Ashley, Caleb is drunk outside my house. Can you come over?” He stood carefully beside me, staring at the phone with desperate, hopeful eyes. Ashley seemed to scoff on the other end of the line. Then she said, “Ask him for me—is it true he’d do absolutely anything for me?” I had it on speakerphone, so Caleb heard it perfectly. He panicked and practically yelled, “Of course I can!” “Then don’t go to the competition.” With that, Ashley hung up the phone. Leaving a stunned Caleb standing rigidly on the porch. I studied Caleb carefully. I wanted to see what choice he would make in this life, without my interference. Dreams versus love. Which one would he choose? Caleb kept his head down. It took a long time before he finally let out a bitter laugh. “Is giving up the competition really the only way to prove how much she means to me?” He clearly wasn’t asking me. But I knew he already had his answer. I didn’t say a word. I just watched him turn around and walk away, looking completely defeated.

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1 My brother was rotten from the start. He tried to kill me more times than I could count. At five, he threw a lit lighter onto my lap. The flames melted half my face, scarring me forever and leaving a constant, burning itch. Through tears, I told the truth, but Mom only held me and whispered, “Your brother’s just a baby. He couldn’t have done that.” At ten, he tricked me into fetching a ball from a thorn thicket hiding a hornet’s nest. I was stung by hundreds, fell down a ravine, and shattered my leg. My kidneys failed, leaving me tied to a catheter for life. Still, no one believed me. “You weren’t careful,” they said. “Stop being a burden.” On my eighteenth birthday, he shoved peanut butter cake into my mouth. I choked instantly, collapsing as he stood over me, grinning at my struggle. Only when he’d had his fill did he run out shouting, “Grace ate cake and had an allergic reaction!” Mom screamed. Dad cursed. “Why won’t that useless girl just die already?” I smiled. [Congratulations, Host. Hidden ending unlocked: 99 Deaths.] [In 24 hours, the portal to the real world opens.] My throat was almost entirely blocked. Every attempt to breathe sounded like a broken bellows, yet not a single drop of oxygen reached my lungs. As I lay on the floor drifting into unconsciousness, I heard heavy, hurried footsteps echoing down the hall. Dad burst through the door and immediately slapped me twice across the face. “Always stuffing your face! Are you really that greedy? What did I do in a past life to deserve you? Can’t you give us one single day of peace?” Mom was frantically tearing through the drawers. “Where is the EpiPen? Where does this stupid girl keep her emergency medication?” When I was first injured years ago, they kept emergency meds in every corner of the house. Back then, even a slight cough from me would make Mom panic and rub my back. “Are you okay, Grace? Do we need to go to the hospital?” But as the incidents piled up, their concern morphed into exhaustion. Eventually, I was left to drag my crippled leg to my follow-up appointments all by myself. Of course she didn’t know where the medication was. She hadn’t cared enough to look in years. Dad’s face darkened, and he dumped the contents of a drawer onto the floor, his voice dripping with irritation. “If we can’t find it, then fine. Maybe we will finally all be free.” Two agonizing minutes later, Mom found the pen on top of a cabinet. Her hands shook as she plunged the needle into my thigh. The crushing weight on my chest slowly lifted, though the fiery red hives covering my body still burned, and the residual muscle aches left me pinned to the floor, unable to move a muscle. Mom looked at Dad, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “Maybe we should take her to the hospital just to be safe?” Dad hesitated for a fraction of a second, but then his anger flared up again. “To the hospital? With what money? Every penny we make goes toward her endless medical bills! Luke, next time your sister tries to kill herself, don’t bother telling us. Once she’s gone, the rest of us can finally have a real life.” He slammed the door behind him. Mom sighed, shooting me one last disappointed look before following him out. Luke leaned down, whispering in my ear with a cruel chuckle. “Can’t die, can’t leave. Pretty miserable, huh? Guess what kind of game we are going to play next time?” He strolled out of the room, puffed up with pride, totally missing the genuine smile that spread across my face. Thank God. I am finally the one who gets to be free. Years ago, in the real world, I had been terminally ill and refused to be a burden to my grandmother. I jumped from the hospital rooftop, only to hear a mechanical voice in my head as I fell. [Host detected. Survival instinct is below 10%. Initiating the Rebirth Redemption Quest. If you successfully complete your mission, you will be rewarded with a healthy, brand-new life in your original world.] My mission was to redeem my sociopathic younger brother, Luke. From the day he was born, I did everything to care for him, constantly whispering words of love and guidance. But on the very night he learned to speak, he stared at me with a sickeningly sweet smile. [You are the ninety-ninth host I’ve met,] he had whispered inside my mind. [The first ninety-eight died playing my games. I hope you last a bit longer.] That was when I realized he wasn’t just a troubled child. He was a malicious, corrupted transmigrator. With his twisted experience, Luke easily turned my life into a living hell, systematically stripping away my parents’ trust until I was completely isolated. When I was lying in a hospital bed with third-degree burns, clinging to life, the system’s voice had chimed again. [Due to a major world glitch, Host has unlocked the hidden ending. Surviving ninety-nine deaths will also count as mission completion.] In truth, every one of Luke’s pranks should have killed me. The system had kept my broken body barely functioning, forcing me to endure over a decade of horrific torture just to reach this day. [The portal opens in 24 hours. You only need to experience your one-hundredth and final death to leave this world forever.] I forced my battered body up, trying to drag myself back onto the mattress, but my palm accidentally pressed down hard on the emergency call button on my headboard. A piercing alarm blared. Footsteps thundered down the hallway, and the door was thrown open once more. 2 Dad stood at the entrance, chest heaving, his car keys clenched tightly in his fist. Mom scanned me with lingering panic. “What is it now?” I shook my head weakly. “Nothing… I just…” Before I could finish, Dad hurled his car keys directly at my face. They struck the bridge of my nose with a sickening crack, sending a blinding wave of pain through my skull. “If it’s nothing, why the hell did you press the alarm? Are you trying to give your mother and me a heart attack?” Dad roared. “You’re already a useless cripple, and now you’re acting out like a psychopath. Why can’t you be more like your brother? When are you going to grow up?” Watching him rave, I felt absolutely nothing. No anger, no sorrow. The stolen happiness of my childhood was always meant to be paid back. Before Luke was born, my parents had treated me like their whole world. I wore the nicest clothes they could afford. When I mentioned wanting to learn the piano, Dad worked three months of overtime just to buy me a high-end brand and hire a professional tutor. When a boy at school cut my hair as a prank, my normally timid mother marched straight into the principal’s office and fought for me tooth and nail. In the real world, I had been raised by my grandmother and never knew what it felt like to have parents. For a brief, foolish moment, I had actually hoped I could stay with them forever. But then Luke arrived, and the dream shattered. Even as an infant, Luke would spit in my face. When I pinched his cheek in frustration, Mom yanked me away, her eyes cold with disappointment. “Grace! You’re the older sister! How could you lay a hand on a baby? Did we teach you nothing?” After the fire, whenever the scars on my face flared up with excruciating pain, I would sob and clutch Mom’s hand. “It was him! He threw the lighter at me! He was born evil, Mom! He’s going to ruin us all!” I begged. “Please, it’s not too late. We have to watch him. Don’t let him fool you!” At first, they offered half-hearted comfort. But eventually, Dad’s patience snapped. He slammed a heavy glass ashtray onto the floor, his eyes shot with blood. “Grace, we tolerated your tantrums because we felt bad for you! But this is insane! You caused that fire yourself, and now you’re trying to frame your toddler brother?” He raised his hand to strike me, but Mom held him back, looking at me with pitying disdain. “Grace, listen to me. I know what you’re doing. But throwing these fits out of jealousy to get our attention is only going to make us resent you.” From then on, Luke’s physical abuse became a regular routine, and my parents’ tolerance evaporated. Once, he pushed me from the top of a slide. I hit the concrete head-first and blacked out. When I opened my eyes, I was still lying on the cold pavement. Mom stood over me, her arms crossed. “I suppose your brother did this too? How long are you going to keep up this pathetic act?” she snapped. “Do you think the hospital is a hotel? My credit cards are already maxed out from your bills!” That was the day I gave up. I completely let go of any hope of redeeming Luke. Seeing me silent, Mom sighed and reached down to pull me up from the floor. But Luke’s eyes darted around, and he suddenly let out a shrill cry. “Mom! Dad! Talk to me! I can’t hear anything!” He clutched his ears, feigning agony. “I was standing right next to the alarm. It was so loud… I think my ears are bleeding!” Mom gasped, instantly dropping my arm. My crippled leg hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud, sending a jolt of pain through my spine. “Oh my god, let’s get you to the doctor right now!” she cried. Dad grabbed me by the hair and dragged me toward the basement stairs. “You miserable parasite! You’re already a broken piece of trash, and now you’re trying to ruin your brother too?” he spat. “Stay down here and think about what you’ve done. No food for you today!” The heavy wooden door slammed shut, plunging the cellar into pitch darkness. The only sound was the scratching of mice in the corners. I closed my eyes, peacefully waiting for the clock to run down. Some time later, a rough hand shook me awake. 3 Dad tossed a worn jacket over me, his voice eerily calm. “Put this on. Get up.” My body felt like it was going to detonate. A sudden, violent fever had taken hold, leaving my head spinning. When I didn’t move fast enough, Dad’s face twisted with annoyance. Mom stepped forward, grabbing my limp arms and shoving them into the sleeves. “Grace, stop being stubborn. Just listen to us. We’re doing this for your own good.” Suddenly, she paused. “Why are you burning up? Are you…” Before her hand could touch my forehead, Luke chimed in, his voice dripping with exaggerated sweet concern. “Do we really have to send her to a care facility, Mom? I can skip my tutoring classes. I won’t go out with my friends on weekends anymore. I’ll spend all my time and money looking after Grace myself!” He looked at me, a sickening glint in his eyes. “Grace, just apologize to Mom and Dad. Promise you won’t cause any more trouble, and we can get through this as a family.” A few years ago, a family friend had suggested sending me to a long-term care home after seeing my condition. Back then, Dad had slammed his fist on the table in a rage. “Your father-in-law went into one of those places and died a month later! Are you asking me to murder my own daughter? As long as we have a roof over our heads and food on our table, I will never abandon Grace in a dump like that!” Looking back, the memory was a sick joke. I shook my head weakly. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” Mom’s hand froze in midair, her expression hardening into disgust. Dad’s anger boiled over. He grabbed my arm and dragged me across the floor toward the front door. “I should have shipped you off years ago. Why did I waste so much time and money on an ungrateful leech like you?” I was tossed onto the back seat of the car. With every bump in the road, my internal organs felt like they were being pierced by hot knives. I drifted in and out of consciousness from the sheer agony until the car finally screeched to a halt in front of a pair of rusted iron gates. The facility director, wearing a stained white coat, hauled me out of the car and shoved me into a squeaking wheelchair. “You folks got lucky today,” he said with a greasy smile. “We just had a bed open up. Once you pay the administrative fee, we can get her processed.” Before we even crossed the threshold, the sound of blood-curdling screams and shattering glass echoed from the hallway. A few burly male orderlies rushed past us, pinning a thrashing patient to the dirty floor like livestock before plunging a syringe into his neck. Within seconds, the patient’s eyes rolled back, and he went limp. Mom shrank back, suddenly terrified. “What is wrong with him? And our Grace is a young woman, and you can’t put her in a room with a violent man!” The director shrugged off her concern. “He’s just a bit schizophrenic. He’s perfectly pleasant when he’s medicated. Besides, we’re completely full. Once you’re in a place like this, gender is the least of your worries.” Dad stared at the floor, his face grim, while Mom darted uneasy glances at me. After a tense silence, Dad opened his mouth to speak, but Luke cut in. “Dad, Mom, the air in here is making me feel really sick. I think I’m getting a fever.” He forced out a wet, dramatic cough. “Besides, Grace grew up around boys. I’m sure she’ll get along fine with him.” Panicked, Mom and Dad immediately started pushing Luke toward the exit. “Right, right, let’s get out of here. Director, we’ll leave Grace in your capable hands.” The staff tossed me onto a filthy mattress like a sack of meat. Once the director locked the door, they abandoned us. Late into the night, the schizophrenic patient on the floor finally stirred. He rolled over, locked his wild, bloodshot eyes on me, and let out a manic, silent grin. From beneath his pillow, he pulled a small kitchen knife, playfully tracing its edge along my skin before plunging it deep into my thigh. Dark blood sprayed across the sheets. I was too weak to lift a finger, and even if I could, I wouldn’t have fought back. He went into a frenzy, stabbing at my face and chest. The room filled with the wet, sickening sound of tearing flesh. I bit my lip until it bled, choking back every scream. Just a little longer. Just bear it a little longer, and it will all be over. After what felt like an eternity, the pain vanished. I found myself floating, looking down at my own butchered body. The familiar mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [Congratulations, Host. Mission accomplished. The return portal will open at noon. Please stand by.] My spirit drifted out of the room, wandering the grim halls of the facility. Around eight in the morning, to my surprise, I saw Mom and Dad walking down the corridor. Mom’s eyes were red and puffy. “I couldn’t sleep a wink last night,” she murmured. “No matter how angry we were, we shouldn’t have left her in a place like this.” Dad huffed, though his voice had softened slightly. “You women are always so dramatic. Let’s just see how she’s adjusting. If she’s miserable, and if she’s willing to apologize and beg for forgiveness, maybe we’ll take her back home.” Standing nearby, the director rolled his eyes when they weren’t looking. “They got along beautifully. Not a peep out of them all night. But let me make one thing clear: if you change your minds now, you’re only getting half your deposit back.” A card terminal beeped as Dad swiped his card. Then, the heavy door was pushed open.

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1 The heatwave apocalypse arrived without warning, sending global temperatures soaring into uncharted territory. As the power grid collapsed across the country, the government rationed electricity, leaving household air conditioners dead. Millions fell victim to severe heatstroke, their bodies cooking from the inside out. I had spent my life savings on a small, portable cooling tent. Due to power limitations, it could only fit one person at a time. My family and I agreed to take turns, one day at a time. But by the second day, they stole my turn. First, they gave my slot to my younger brother. Second, they gave it to my mother. By the third day, I died of heatstroke. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my bedroom, exactly one week before the world went to hell. This time, I woke up with the Sensory Swapping System. The first thing I did after my rebirth was shut down every assembly line at my food processing plant. I took all the rice, flour, grain, and oil from the factory and locked them away in our storage vaults. With the apocalypse looming, raw survival depended entirely on securing resources. Checking the countdown on my phone, I had exactly six days and seven hours before global temperatures spiked by thirty percent, scorching crops and drying up rivers. At that point, anyone with food and water would become a prime target. Simply having supplies was not enough; I needed an absolute fortress. My top priority was upgrading the factory. I expanded the main warehouse, installed an independent solar power grid, and dug deep to place a heavy-duty underground water filtration system. Every production line was cleared out, and raw ingredients were categorized and secretly moved into cold storage and reinforced vaults. Finally, I hired a high-end security firm to install a defense system. With my safe house ready, I turned to the remaining supplies. I rented a twenty-four-foot refrigerated box truck. It was large enough to haul my entire checklist, yet modest enough to navigate the city streets and enter the factory gates without drawing suspicious eyes. More importantly, it kept temperature-sensitive cargo perfectly chilled during transport. I bypassed local supermarkets and wholesale markets, which were too crowded and lacked the bulk items I needed. Instead, I drove to a massive warehouse club on the city outskirts and bought vacuum-packed rice, flour, grains, frozen meats, and canned goods in bulk. I cross-referenced my checklist to make sure no detail was missed: antibiotics, painkillers, anti-inflammatories, gastrointestinal medicine, antihistamines, and wound disinfectants. Once the medical supplies were secured, I cleared a small indoor plot inside the factory. As soon as my first truckload arrived, I sowed vegetable seeds into the fertile soil. There was no telling how long the heat would last, and relying solely on stockpiles was a death sentence. I needed a continuous, renewable source of food. By the time I finished my second supply run, my bank accounts were drained. Running a private factory meant most of my liquid capital was tied up in unpaid invoices, so I liquidated my stock portfolio and sold my family’s ancestral home far below market value. With the cash, I covered the factory roof with high-efficiency solar panels, adding several industrial-grade diesel generators capable of running for years. I also purchased an encrypted military-grade radio transmitter, multiple thermal imaging cameras, and a state-of-the-art automated defense system. Six days later, the heatwave struck. My external sensors registered a blistering 119 degrees Fahrenheit. And I knew this was just the beginning. The municipal power grid collapsed within four hours of the initial spike. The city fell into a suffocating silence. Water systems rely on electricity; when the pumping stations ground to a halt and the last drops trickled out of the taps, raw panic tore through the streets. I unlocked my phone, watching the desperate cries for help online and tracking real-time aerial footage from my drone. The once-bustling streets were completely abandoned. The asphalt was melting, bubbling up and releasing a pungent chemical stench. As my drone hovered over my old apartment building, I spotted three familiar faces through the window. “It’s too hot! Why isn’t the AC working?” “I’m going to die!” My brother’s whining voice filtered through the audio receiver. Watching the three of them drenched in sweat, I reached into my mini-fridge, grabbed a cold can of soda, and took a long, refreshing drink. The icy liquid slid down my throat, sending a pleasant shiver through my body. It actually felt a little chilly, so I adjusted my thermostat to a comfortable seventy-eight degrees. By the third day, the temperature outside hovered near 140 degrees. Reports of heatstroke deaths were skyrocketing, and vicious fights over bottled water were breaking out on every corner. Unbothered, I pumped filtered water from my well and gently misted the green sprouts pushing through the indoor soil. But as I stood enjoying the quiet, my security console flashed a bright red warning: [Bio-signature approaching]. 2 Through the high-definition security monitors, I watched two men carrying heavy fire axes kick through my outer factory gate. “The air is cooler in here! There’s definitely food inside!” On screen, their faces were twisted with heat exhaustion and manic desperation. I recognized them instantly. In my past life, these same two men had looted a local convenience store during the initial blackout, hacking the elderly shopkeepers to death for a single case of bottled water. They began hacking at my security doors, cursing and screaming. Their violence only made my decision easier. Since I had spent millions on an automated defense grid, I figured this was the perfect opportunity to test it. I moved my finger across the console and tapped the [Purge] command. A silent laser swept across the hallway. The two intruders collapsed instantly, blood pooling on the concrete. Within seconds, automated cleaning arms emerged from the wall, dragging the bodies toward the incinerator chute. I launched my drone to scan the factory perimeter. The location was remote enough that no one else seemed to be nearby. But as the drone returned toward the main hangar, three figures caught my eye. “Mom, Dad, this is where Sylvia is hiding!” “That selfish bitch is in there enjoying the AC while we’re out here dying!” I had fully expected Gavin to drag our parents to my door eventually. But what I did not expect was the sudden alert on my monitor: [Main Door Unlocked]. The sound of my security system disengaging made my blood run cold. How was that possible? The security architecture was my own design, featuring physical and digital barriers. Without my master biometric override, opening the door from the outside should have been impossible. I pulled up the lock diagnostics. The primary electronic lock icons were flashing red, showing they had been bypassed. Zooming in on the entryway camera, I saw Gavin holding a strange, custom-built electronic device. He was running it over the keypad, forcing the system to cycle through codes. I had forgotten that despite his lazy, useless attitude, my brother was a mechanical prodigy when it came to locks and circuits. I took a deep breath, my fingers flying across the auxiliary control panel. I had engineered this system to handle any threat, including an inside betrayal. I initiated the secondary lockdown protocol. I wiped the digital keypad memory and engaged the heavy steel physical deadbolts. [Authorization required: Iris scan, palm print, thirty-six-digit dynamic physical key.] [Processing security protocol… 3… 2… 1…] [All external digital signals blocked.] The moment the physical bolts slammed into place with a heavy thud, Gavin’s face fell. He kicked the door in frustration, triggering the automated defense warning. Realizing what would happen if he stayed, he grabbed our parents and retreated into the courtyard, screaming curses into the security camera. I assumed they would wander off and perish in the heat, but two hours later, they returned. This time, they were dragging someone with them. It was Martha, my oldest factory employee. She had been with me since I started the business, treating me like her own daughter. In my previous life, I had lost contact with her during the chaos. In this life, with time running short, I had anonymously sent her a massive crate of supplies and a stack of cash, urging her to escape to the countryside. How did they find her? “Sylvia!” Gavin screamed at the camera, holding a kitchen knife to Martha’s throat. “If you don’t open this door, I’m going to carve this old lady up piece by piece! You have three minutes!” The temperature outside was rising. Sweat poured off my family as they counted down the seconds, their eyes wild with desperation. In the final seconds, I relented. I put on my tactical body armor, gripped my rifle, and opened the inner security gate. “Let Martha go, and you can step inside,” I announced through the speaker. But I underestimated their cruelty. The moment the cool air of the vestibule hit their skin, Gavin kicked Martha hard in the stomach, sending her sprawling. Before I could catch her, the three of them rushed past us into the primary safe room and slammed the door, locking it from the inside. I didn’t panic. I simply smiled, helped Martha up, and led her into the secondary shelter next door. Fortunately, I had designed the factory with a dual-zone layout. By locking themselves in the primary room, they had only cut off a tiny fraction of the facility, leaving the storage vaults and greenhouses entirely under my control. But as the minutes ticked by, the air in my secondary room began to warm up. I checked the monitors and saw Gavin frantically pressing buttons on the master panel, cutting the power to my section of the building. The suffocating heat of my past life began to creep back into my chest. On the split-screen monitor, I watched Gavin tearing through my refrigerator, guzzling my cold drinks while my parents submerged their heads in the sink. I pulled up the system interface on my tablet. [Sensory Swapping System activated. Please select target.] Without hesitation, I typed in my brother’s name: Gavin.

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1 While taking a quiet walk around our residential neighborhood, I ran straight into my ex-husband, Tristan. For a second, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. No one knew better than I did how much Tristan detested this town, and how much he despised this exact neighborhood. I stopped in my tracks, offering a polite but distant greeting. “Are you back to visit your grandmother’s grave?” He stood there, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his eyes locked onto mine without so much as a blink. “I bought a house here. I stay here whenever I’m in town on business.” A wave of disgust washed over me, instantly killing any desire to be polite. I looked down, already mentally calculating the cost of moving somewhere else, and stepped aside to walk away. But Tristan stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Brooke, I regret it.” I pretended not to hear him, my eyes lighting up as I waved to someone behind him. “Jasper!” Jasper walked over, naturally taking my hand in his. When I first met Tristan, he wasn’t the powerful tech CEO he is today. Back then, in the eyes of our classmates and neighbors, he was just a lonely, impoverished seven-year-old boy. He had no parents and no friends. His divorced parents had tossed him back and forth like a hot potato before finally dumping him on his grandmother. Winters in Seattle were wet and bone-chilling, filled with endless drizzle. While the neighborhood kids played together, Tristan could always be seen trailing behind his grandmother, collecting cardboard and plastic bottles from recycle bins. He wore thin, worn-out clothes, constantly shivering with his head tucked into his collar. Some of the kids from our block spread the story at school, and soon, everyone started calling him “the garbage boy.” Since we lived in the same neighborhood and went to the same school, I constantly witnessed him being bullied and mocked. Eventually, I couldn’t bear to watch it anymore. I began taking care of him in secret. I would pack an extra breakfast to share with him, and I gave him my spare gloves and insulated thermos. When my dad discovered why my things kept going missing, he let out a soft sigh and brought Tristan into our home. From that day on, Tristan played at our house, ate at our table, showered in our bathroom, and did his homework beside me. My mother started buying everything in pairs: one blue, one pink. On Tristan’s tenth birthday, my father bought him a computer. That was the day we discovered his terrifying talent for programming. After that, his life changed completely. He swept every local and national coding competition, his room filling up with trophies and cash prizes. At fourteen, he traveled abroad as the youngest competitor in the World Programming Championship and took first place. I still remember the video of him holding the trophy on a bustling European street, his eyes shining brightly as he smiled into the camera. “I want to thank Mr. and Mrs. Su. Without them, I wouldn’t be standing here today. And thank you, Brooke.” We were only fourteen, but watching that broadcast, my face burned crimson. During our senior year of high school, the day he received his early admission letter to Boston Tech, he wrapped his arms around me. “Brooke, please apply to a school in Boston,” he whispered softly in my ear. For that single sentence, I left Seattle and enrolled in a mediocre local college in Boston. I had always been ordinary: ordinary grades, an ordinary life, an ordinary degree. I was nothing like Tristan. He was a man of extremes. When he loved something, he loved it to the point of obsession. He loved programming, and he worked himself to exhaustion to launch his startup. He loved me, too, often running across campus just to eat breakfast with me after pulling an all-nighter at his office. But when he hated, he hated with equal intensity. During our freshman year, Tristan used his hacking skills to break into his biological father’s small logistics firm, systematically ruining his most lucrative contracts. During our junior year, while his startup was in its most critical phase, he took a night off to throw a lavish party, celebrating the day his mother’s second marriage collapsed. Looking back, the way he treated me after he fell out of love was entirely consistent with who he had always been. 2 At twenty-three, the moment I graduated, Tristan and I got married. By then, his company was valued at millions, and he had purchased a luxury penthouse in one of Boston’s most expensive districts. Because we had no financial worries, I took a quiet, low-stress job earning about three thousand dollars a month. In a city like Boston, it wasn’t a high salary, but the hours were strictly nine-to-five, and the office was incredibly close to Tristan’s headquarters and our home. Tristan was consumed by his work, and I had no grand career ambitions. I preferred coming home to cook dinner and tend to our pets. In the beginning, everything was perfect. Tristan’s company grew rapidly, and he was hailed as one of the youngest, most promising tech executives in the country. He was sharp, confident, and deeply devoted to me. He would sit at our table, drinking the soup I had simmered for hours, and tell me how incredibly lucky he felt. But gradually, his nights out grew longer, and the distance between us stretched into a chasm. The breaking point arrived on Tristan’s twenty-seventh birthday. I stayed up waiting for him all night. When he finally walked through the door at dawn, I spotted a clear smear of red lipstick on his collar. In that instant, something inside me snapped. I hurled his birthday cake at him, lunging forward to tear at his shirt. I smashed everything within reach: the dishes, the decorations, our framed wedding portraits. Tristan watched my hysteria with cold, detached eyes. He calmly reached behind him to close the front door. “Brooke, if you’re going to scream, at least close the door. If you don’t care about your reputation, I care about mine.” He looked at me, his brow furrowed with deep irritation. “You’re still my wife, and as long as you don’t cross the line, nothing will change. No one is going to take your place. Be reasonable. It’s better for everyone.” He didn’t even bother to deny it. He just stood there and admitted it. My mind shattered. I lunged at him again, but he pushed me away with enough force to send me stumbling. He looked down at me, his words cutting like glass. “Look at yourself. Do you look like a CEO’s wife? You look like a screaming street vendor.” He turned and walked out of the apartment. He didn’t return for weeks. I was twenty-seven, proud, and entirely unprepared for that level of humiliation. I began showing up at his office, demanding a confrontation. It didn’t take me long to find out who the other woman was: Vivian, his corporate partner. Tristan hadn’t even tried to hide her. They were already behaving like a married couple in front of the staff, attending meetings and dinners together. His assistants, his executives, everyone knew. I was the only one kept in the dark. The betrayal kept me awake for days. Eventually, I lost control and lunged at Vivian in the office lobby, grabbing her hair as we tumbled to the floor. She was thin and lacked my physical strength, but even as I pinned her down, she glared up at me with tears in her eyes. “I know I’m wrong, Brooke! But I was there coding with Tristan when we were still in college! We pulled seventy-hour weeks, drank cheap coffee, and survived on instant noodles! Where were you? What were you doing?” “Tristan would finish a twenty-hour shift and still have to run to your campus to walk you to your morning classes! You sat back and enjoyed his success while he nearly worked himself to death! You don’t deserve him!” My hands went limp, and I stumbled back, staring at her in disbelief. How could she speak with such self-righteous fury? Was she actually accusing me of failing him? Tristan rushed into the lobby. He didn’t look at me once. He helped Vivian up, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and led her away. I walked back to our empty penthouse like a ghost, sitting in the dark for days, her words echoing in my mind. Where was I while they were building his dream? What was I doing? I was in Seattle. 3 I was taking care of Tristan’s grandmother. She was a gentle, kind-hearted woman who had always treated me like her own family. During our senior year of college, she fell gravely ill. Tristan’s startup was at its most critical point, and he was working himself to the bone. Meanwhile, I was trying to finish my thesis and secure an internship. Tristan had collapsed into my arms one evening, weeping as he talked about his company and his grandmother’s failing health. I remembered exactly what I told him. I told him I would return to Seattle to care for her. Tristan had held me so tight I could barely breathe, whispering endless promises of gratitude. He told me he had decided to marry me when he was fourteen, and that he would spend the rest of his life making me happy. His tears had soaked my shoulder, and I comforted him, telling him I needed a break from the academic pressure anyway. I claimed it would be good to spend some time with my own parents. I had gaslit myself into believing I was the one who needed a break, all to ease his guilt. And so, I spent over a year in Seattle, working with my parents to nurse his grandmother through her final days. I didn’t return to Boston until after her funeral. Tristan had kept his promise. The moment I got back, he proposed with a diamond ring, and we married shortly after. But now, his mistress was standing in his office lobby, demanding to know what I had done to deserve him. It was a sick joke. I locked myself in the apartment, weeping through the nights, slowly destroying myself. I obsessed over our history, trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. Sometimes I hated Tristan with a burning passion; other times, I blamed myself. I had married an extraordinary man, but I had failed to keep pace with him. After two weeks of silence, Tristan came home. He held a bouquet of crimson roses, handing them to me as if nothing had happened. “Vivian agreed not to press charges for the assault.” “Brooke, think about your parents. Your father is a high school teacher. If you keep making these scenes, do you think his reputation will survive the scandal?” He actually had the nerve to bring up my parents. “We have a lifetime of history together. Vivian isn’t going to take your status. You have wealth, position, and everyone in this city calls you Mrs. Lu. I’ve given you everything a woman could want. You need to be content.” “Be sensible, Brooke. Let’s just go back to the way things were.” Mrs. Lu. What a sickening title. Looking at the man standing in front of me, a wave of physical nausea hit me. I rushed into the bathroom and threw up until my stomach was empty. A week later, I found out I was pregnant. The news thrilled Tristan, and he seemed to commit himself to our family. He took my hand, his eyes filled with apparent remorse. “I made a mistake, Brooke. I’m sorry. Now that we have a baby on the way, I’m done playing around. I promise I’ll cut things off with Vivian. Let’s raise this child and build a real home.” I wept, but eventually, I chose to believe him. I convinced myself that I shared some of the blame, that his years of hard work had taken a toll on him. He was back now, and that was all that mattered. But the human heart is a fragile thing. I felt as though my soul had been hollowed out. I had lost my job after missing so much work, so I spent my days sleeping, staring at the walls, and waiting. Tristan kept his word, coming home every night to cook dinner and read stories to my belly. And I might have actually believed he had changed, if Vivian hadn’t started sending me video clips every single day. 4 He spent his nights with me, but his days were still spent with Vivian. In the videos Vivian sent, the staff called me “the primary boss’s wife” and referred to Vivian as “the little boss’s lady.” They joked about Tristan’s ability to keep both of us happy. On Vivian’s birthday, Tristan announced to the entire office that anyone who wished her a happy birthday would receive a double bonus. He certainly knew how to make a woman feel special. Watching those videos, I realized Tristan’s love was like a firework: brilliant, loud, and easily given to anyone. All I had left was the ash. I didn’t know why I was still clinging to the ruins of our marriage. But looking down at my six-month pregnant belly, I couldn’t bring myself to give up on the life growing inside me. I decided to block Vivian’s number, put my head in the sand, and just focus on bringing my baby into the world. But Vivian had no intention of letting me find peace. On a rainy Tuesday afternoon, she showed up at my door carrying a large cardboard box. She didn’t come inside; she simply dumped the contents onto the floor of my entryway. Out spilled my old college notebooks, a framed photo from our wedding, and a small horse sculpture I had bought Tristan when he started his company. “Brooke,” Vivian said, her smile sweet but her eyes cold as ice. “Tristan said these things were taking up too much space in his office. He wanted me to throw them away, but I thought it would be a shame to lose such precious memories. I brought them here so you could keep them.” Staring at the mess on the floor, I didn’t even feel angry. “Get out,” I said quietly. I was done fighting with her. It wasn’t worth the energy. “Oh, are we sensitive today? I haven’t even started,” Vivian sneered, stepping closer and intentionally shoving her shoulder into mine. “Tristan told me you look like a bloated pig these days, and that you smell like baby formula. He says looking at you makes him sick.” She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Did you know we bought a new, larger sofa for his office lounge?” My vision blurred. The fragile peace I had built shattered into a thousand pieces. I don’t remember how I lunged at her, or how we ended up on the floor. I don’t even remember when Tristan arrived. There was only chaos, screaming, and then a sharp, tearing pain in my abdomen. When I woke up, the storm had passed. I was lying in a hospital bed, and my baby was gone. Tristan sat beside me, clutching my hand as tears streamed down his face. “Brooke, we’re still young. We’re only twenty-eight. We can try again. I swear, I’ll cut Vivian out of my life permanently this time…” Without a word, I grabbed the paring knife from the fruit basket on my bedside table and plunged it toward his chest. He flinched, and the blade buried itself in his shoulder. But even as blood soaked his shirt, he didn’t let go of me. He held me tight, weeping into my shoulder. His tears felt like grease on my skin. The moment I was discharged, I filed for divorce. Tristan refused to sign the papers. In response, I picked up another knife and drew it across my wrist, slicing deep into the flesh. The sight of the blood terrified him, and he finally signed the papers. In the settlement, he transferred ten million dollars to my account. I didn’t refuse the money; I knew I would need it to pay for my medical treatment. My mind was broken. I was diagnosed with severe, clinical depression.

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1 For our first anniversary, my boyfriend gave me a twenty-dollar scratch-off card. When I scratched off a five-million-dollar jackpot, I screamed, ready to throw my arms around his neck. But my best friend, Vivian, grabbed my wrist. “Valerie, look closely! This card is fake. He’s running a loyalty test on you! To put it bluntly, the guy doesn’t trust you for a second!” She urged me to dump him. Who wants to be with a cheap, broke guy who uses fake junk to test real feelings? Honestly, for a split second, it made perfect sense. But just as I was about to march downstairs and slap that stupid ticket right into Tristan’s face, a tiny, furious voice echoed in my head. “Are you kidding me? Is my idiot mother really about to break up with my dad again?” “Does she have any idea that my dad is the sole heir of the Mercer dynasty? Literally the crown prince of New York’s elite?” “All she has to do is pass this stupid test and she gets a fifty-million-dollar reward. Instead, she’s going to listen to that toxic snake and end up dying in misery.” What? Tristan is the heir to a hundred-billion-dollar empire? Why didn’t you say so earlier! When I first realized the ticket was fake, Vivian’s words had sunk into my mind like a poisoned needle. “A man with actual capability would never run a messed-up test like this,” she whispered, her face tight with mock concern. “Deep down, he thinks you’re just some gold-digger! Why do you think he’s still waiting down there under the streetlamp? He’s waiting to see how you react. If you tell him you won, he’ll just shrug it off as a joke, feeding on your disappointment. If you don’t tell him, he’ll look down on you from his moral high ground, watching you embarrass yourself trying to cash a fake ticket!” Down on the street, Tristan stood quietly beneath the flickering yellow glow of the lamppost. His head was bowed, his face shadowed, making his expression impossible to read. For the past year, he had never bought me anything expensive, and I had never minded. I loved him for who he was. But if this was all a twisted game… Seeing me hesitate, Vivian pressed harder. “A relationship without trust is just a house of cards, Val. A guy with a mind this dark isn’t going to stop at one test. Do you want to spend the rest of your life walking on eggshells? Can you really tolerate being played like a fool? You need to go down there, expose him, and slap some sense into him!” Taking a deep breath, I gripped the scratch-off and walked toward Tristan. “Tristan, you…” Before I could finish, that squeaky, immature voice rang out again in my mind. “Are you kidding me? Is my idiot mother really about to break up with my dad again?” I whipped my head around, but the street was empty. The voice was coming from inside my own stomach. “Does she seriously not know my dad is the Mercer family heir, worth a hundred billion dollars?” “In her past life, she listened to that toxic witch Vivian. She threw the card in my dad’s face, screamed that he was a cheap hypocrite, and broke up with him on the spot after a massive fight. Then Vivian swooped in. She played the gentle, caring angel, married into the empire, and became the billionaire’s wife. And what happened to my idiot mom? Vivian ruined her career, dragged her name through the mud, and had her baby taken away. My mom ended up committing suicide in a dingy, rented room.” “I got reborn just to end up with a mother who doesn’t learn her lesson!” I froze, ice water running through my veins. The idiot mother was me? I was pregnant? And Tristan was a billionaire prince? The little guy in my belly let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Mom, get your act together! It wasn’t easy getting reincarnated. Don’t ruin it this time!” “Right now, right this second, go hug my dad. Pretend you’re ecstatic and tell him you won the jackpot!” “As long as you pass this test, my dad has a fifty-million-dollar bonus and a massive luxury penthouse waiting for you. If you don’t pull it together, that toxic bitch gets it all…” I looked up at Tristan. Suddenly, the streetlamp wasn’t the only thing shining. He practically glowed with the light of a golden god. He wasn’t just a hidden heir: he was my personal ticket to paradise. 2 Tristan watched my face fluctuate between tears and a hysterical grin, his brows knitting together. “Val? What did you want to say?” I took a deep breath, threw my arms around him, and buried my face in his chest. “Tristan, you won’t believe how lucky we are! That scratch-off you gave me? We won! It’s a five-million-dollar jackpot!” His body stiffened instantly. “You… actually told me?” “Of course I did! You’re the love of my life, and you bought the ticket. With this money, we can finally build our future together.” Up on the steps, Vivian’s face practically shattered. She marched down, her voice sharp. “Valerie, stop being so brainless! I told you, that card is fake! Tristan is just playing you!” So what if my golden goose wanted to run a little security check before raining cash on me? I was more than happy to play along. Inside my belly, the little guy gasped. “Wait, my mom actually used her brain? But now that the toxic snake exposed it, how is she going to save this?” Just sit back and watch your mother’s award-winning performance, I thought back. “Wait… you can hear me?” the baby wondered. I ignored him, focusing instead on the ticket. My eyes welled up with tears right on cue. “It… it’s a fake?” “Val, let me explain,” Tristan pleaded, his composure slipping. “I thought we finally made it,” I choked out, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes, letting a single tear roll down my cheek. “I thought you wouldn’t have to work three jobs anymore just to save up for our future.” I let out a shaky breath, wrapping my arms tighter around his waist. “But it’s okay. I know you were just trying to make me happy. It was nice to dream for a second. It just means you’ll have to keep working hard, and I’ll be right there beside you.” I buried my face back into his chest, letting out soft, muffled sobs. Tristan cupped my face, gently wiping away my tears. “You sweet, silly girl. The ticket is fake.” “But you passed the test. This is your real reward.” He slid something into my palm. I looked down. An Amex Black Card, and a key fob to a penthouse overlooking Central Park. I swallowed hard. “What… what does this mean? Tristan, where did you get this?” “My family is actually the Mercers of New York,” he admitted softly. “I had to hide my identity while dating. I want to bring you home, but my family required a test first. You have no idea how terrified I was that you’d leave me for five million dollars. Thank you, Val. I promise to love you with everything I have.” Vivian turned deathly pale. “Valerie, did you not hear him? He’s been lying to you from day one! He’s just playing with you. Men like him never marry girls like us! Throw that trash back at him! Don’t sell your soul for money!” The little guy in my belly snorted. “My dad is the sole heir of the Mercer line. The old patriarch is dying for a great-grandchild. If my mom spills the pregnancy news right now, the family gates will swing wide open for her.” Seeing Vivian reach out to snatch the card and keys, I quickly shoved them into my pocket, covering my stomach. “But I’m already pregnant with his child. I don’t want my baby growing up without a father.” Vivian froze. Tristan looked like he’d been struck by lightning. “Val… what did you say? You’re pregnant?” When I nodded, he immediately pulled out his phone, made a rapid-fire call, and scooped me up in his arms, walking toward a sleek black Maybach that had quietly pulled up to the curb. “I’ll have the wedding planned immediately. First, we go to the hospital.” The baby purred happily. “Not bad, Dad. But don’t celebrate too early. That toxic snake Vivian isn’t going to give up easily. She already knew your true identity and has been plotting to tear you two apart so she can take my mom’s place.” Resting in Tristan’s arms, I gently caressed my stomach. But I have you now, don’t I, my sweet reborn baby? After the hospital confirmed the pregnancy, the Mercer patriarch immediately gifted us a sprawling estate in the Hamptons as a welcoming present. Everything was picture-perfect. Except for Vivian. And my baby was about to give me a very grim warning about what she had planned next. 3 After the scratch-off incident, I moved out of my cramped apartment and into the estate. Vivian pretended to be happy for me, but she bombarded my phone with toxic texts daily. “Val, do you really know Tristan? Families that rich have crazy rules. Can you actually survive in that world?” “They only care about pedigree. You think you can secure your place just with a baby? Watch out, they might just take the kid and kick you to the curb!” “Men born with silver spoons don’t stick to one woman. High-society guys are all players.” Every time she tried to plant seeds of doubt, my little guardian angel chimed in. “She’s just trying to make you paranoid, Mom. My dad is completely devoted to you, and the Mercer family has strict moral codes.” “In the last life, my dad only ended up with her to make you jealous. He loved you to death. In fact, after you died, he took his own life.” “Don’t play into some tragic romance trope. Tell Vivian that even if the Mercers only want the baby, you’ll still be set for life on child support alone!” Grinning, I picked up my phone, switched on the video call, and slowly panned around my massive, thousand-square-foot master bedroom. “Vivian, look at this place. Just for being pregnant, they gave me this estate and an unlimited allowance.” “Even if they kick me out after the birth, they’ll have to pay me millions in child support. I’m set for life either way.” “And if I have a boy, he’ll inherit the entire Mercer empire. Who cares if I marry into the family? As long as I have the money, I’m happy.” “You shouldn’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. I heard your deadbeat, gambling father is looking for you again?” Vivian’s face flushed with a mixture of rage and humiliation. She slammed the phone down, hanging up on me. Why didn’t I block her? Because my sweet baby told me that villains like Vivian are like roaches. If you don’t face them head-on, they just skulk in the dark. It was much more satisfying to keep her close and drive her insane with my success. A few weeks later, Tristan took me to a high-society charity gala. It was my official debut as his wife. Since Tristan didn’t want a rushed wedding and wanted to spare me the stress while pregnant, we had quietly registered our marriage and planned a grand ceremony for the following year. Before we left, my little guy gave me a stern warning. “Be careful tonight, Mom. In our last life, Vivian set you up at this very gala, causing a massive public scandal that ruined your reputation.” What did she do? I asked mentally. “In the past life, you snuck in as a waitress to see my dad after finding out you were pregnant. Vivian spilled red wine all over your dress and led you to a private changing room.” “She had hired a man to wait for you there. When my dad walked in, you were disheveled and caught in a compromising position. He was blinded by rage. With Vivian whispering poison in his ear, he didn’t even believe the baby was his.” “You were thrown out into a torrential downpour, got hit by a car, lost me, and ended up with a crippled leg. Vivian is definitely going to sneak in tonight to pull something similar.” I shuddered, a cold sweat breaking out on my neck. At the gala, sure enough, I spotted Vivian. She was dressed in a server’s uniform, holding a tray. When she saw me, she marched straight over. “Oh, Valerie, that dress is stunning. Your new man must be incredibly generous. How much did you have to do to get it?” “I wish I could find a sugar daddy like that. Some of us actually have to work for a living.” She spoke just loudly enough for the surrounding socialites to hear. Several wealthy women exchanged mocking glances, instantly branding me as a gold-digging interloper. I remained perfectly calm. “Oh, this dress? It was a gift from my mother-in-law, Beatrice Mercer. She actually designed it herself when she was pregnant with Tristan.” My response delivered a double blow: it confirmed my marriage to the heir and showed I had the mother’s full backing. The socialites’ snickers instantly vanished, replaced by polite, flattering smiles.

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