Chapter 1 My husband found himself a wealthy sugar mama and started secretly funneling money to me every few days. In six months, he transferred me a cool $850,000. I was seriously considering divorce. Then I thought about it. Screw that! Why even consider it? Every second I hesitate is an insult to cold, hard cash! A “family man” who brings home the bacon like this is harder to find than a parking spot in Manhattan. Why not let him hustle a little more? … Melanie slapped me across the face, hard. My cheek burned instantly. “Are you crazy?” I looked up at her, clutching my face, totally bewildered. “Chloe! You liar! Are you and your husband running a scam on me together?” Before I could process what was happening, my coworkers swarmed around us. “Who are you? Why did you just hit her?” She pointed a manicured finger at my nose and started screaming. “Your husband, Zack, used my credit card to transfer money to you. $850,000 in six months! Don’t act like you didn’t know!” I froze, then realized who she was. This was my husband’s side piece. The “Mistress.” She grabbed my collar, her eyes wild. “You two scumbags! $850,000! Do you think I’m an ATM? Using my money to clear your shopping cart?” With that one line, I became the center of attention. My coworkers immediately switched into gossip mode, phones out, recording everything. Melanie slapped me again, so hard I fell to the floor. She shouted to the crowd, “Look at this! This woman is a fraud! She and her husband are con artists!” She was screaming and trying to hit me again. My coworker, Lisa, stepped in. “That’s enough! We know Chloe. She wouldn’t do that! We’re calling the police!” “Call them! Go ahead!” Melanie laughed like a maniac. “I want to see how she explains this to the cops! Daring to spend my money… I’ll knock your teeth out or my name isn’t Melanie!” She was thrashing like an angry octopus, trying to claw at me. My coworkers held her back while she shrieked. I smoothed my messy hair and stood up from the floor. Calmly, coolly, I spoke. “Ma’am. You claim my husband and I are scamming you. But I don’t even know who you are. So please, tell me, how exactly did I scam you?” She glared at me, trembling with rage. “Don’t play dumb! You know exactly what my relationship is with your husband!” I gasped, covering my mouth in mock surprise. “What is your relationship?” Melanie blushed, looking around guiltily at the crowd. “It doesn’t matter what our relationship is! You stole my money, and today you’re going to pay me back!” I stared straight into her eyes. “Are you the mistress my husband has been keeping on the side?” Hearing that, she exploded and rushed at me. “Bullshit! He keeps me? He’s a broke driver! He has money to keep me? I’m the one keeping him!” The crowd gasped in unison. I didn’t panic. I just smiled faintly. “So, you admit you’re having an affair with my husband?” She choked for a second but doubled down. “So what if I am! Zack, that dog, spends my money, drives my car, and even uses my money to support his wife!” Satisfied, I pulled out my phone. “I’ve recorded everything. I’ve also called the police for assault. My coworkers are witnesses.” “See you at the station.” Hearing I was going to sue her, Melanie went berserk and raised her hand to hit me again. Chapter 2 The police arrived just in time, and we were all hauled into squad cars. At the station, before we even sat down, she started making a scene. She claimed she was swindled out of money and love. She pulled out chat logs and transfer records with my husband, Zack, trying to prove we were in cahoots. “Officer, look. I buy him houses, I buy him cars, and he gives all the money to this woman! How could he do this to me?” Tears streamed down her face. She was genuinely heartbroken over Zack’s betrayal. But the officers just stared at her blankly. They looked at her like she was an idiot. She claimed Zack and I scammed her. But the evidence she provided proved she was having an affair with Zack. And she knew he was married. A homewrecker knowingly wrecking a home, and then coming to harass the wife? Mistresses these days are bold. The officer deadpanned, “We don’t handle relationship disputes.” She jumped up, frantic. “His husband is using my money to support her! Isn’t that illegal?” Just as she was about to throw a tantrum, Zack arrived. The moment Melanie saw him, she lunged and started pummeling him. “Zack! You bastard! You lied to me!” She started sobbing hysterically. The station was in chaos. The police finally pulled them apart. Zack, face scratched up by Melanie’s nails, snapped at her. “Melanie, are you insane?” “You call me insane? Did a dog eat your conscience? I treated you so well, and you went behind my back and gave all my money to this woman!” Zack didn’t even blink. “Stop screaming! She’s my wife. If I don’t give the money to her, who should I give it to?” I watched from the side, jaw on the floor. That was a new one. He saw me standing there and immediately rushed over, fawning. “Babe, are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Seeing the mark on my face, his distress was palpable. He turned and roared at Melanie. “Melanie! Look what you did! I told you! Don’t bother my wife! And you still came here!” Melanie lost it. “Zack! How can you treat me like this? Are you even a man?” “Yesterday you were holding me, telling me you loved me, that you wanted to marry me. If I hadn’t found out you were transferring my money to your wife… you bastard, were you planning to empty my bank account?” “You believed me when I said I loved you?” Melanie wept, heartbroken. “You said you had no feelings for your wife! You said she was a nag, not understanding like me!” “You said she was boring in bed! Just lying there like a dead fish! Not like me… passionate, skilled…” “Shut up!” Zack turned beet red and shouted. “Have some shame!” “I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t love you at all! I was with you to get some cash!” “You were the stupid one throwing yourself at me!” “I only love my wife. Stop making a scene!” He grabbed my hand and tried to drag me out, leaving Melanie standing there in shock. Chapter 3 The moment we got home, before even taking off his shoes, Zack dropped to his knees on the living room tiles. Thud. “Honey, I was wrong. Truly.” I stood in the kitchen pouring water, ignoring him. “I’m scum. I shouldn’t have let you suffer like this. I was confused, blinded by her money. I didn’t want her body or her face. She chased me! She tempted me with money…” He was crying now, begging. I didn’t know how to react. He cheated on me. But he also funneled every cent of the mistress’s money back to me. “So, should I give you a ‘Best Husband’ award?” His face went pale. “It was an impulse. A mistake any man could make…” The bedroom door opened. My in-laws rushed out. “You idiot!” My mother-in-law smacked the back of his head. “You have a good home, and you go out and mess around?” They didn’t know the details, but seeing Zack kneeling meant he screwed up big time. Zack’s career had been stagnant for years. I carried this family. They didn’t dare cross me. After a lecture from his parents, Zack spilled the beans. A year ago, Zack got a job driving for a rich guy. In the last six months, he transferred me a total of $180,000 (part of the larger sum Melanie claimed). I asked where it came from. He said his boss liked him and gave him stock tips. Turns out, he was being a sugar baby. Melanie was a sugar baby for a rich old man, and she turned around and became a sugar mama for Zack. My in-laws were furious. My mother-in-law cried, “You useless thing! Earning dirty money like that!” Zack hung his head, face red. “I know I messed up. But I was just greedy. I never thought about divorce. I don’t have feelings for that woman!” “No feelings, but you slept with her? Couldn’t control your zipper?” My mother-in-law raised her hand to hit him again. Zack covered his head, making excuses. “She forced it… she said I was good in bed… she said her old sugar daddies were useless, keeping her like a bird in a cage! She was lonely! She threatened suicide if I didn’t stay…” I laughed coldly. “Wow, you’re popular.” He crawled over and grabbed my pant leg. “Chloe, I swear. I never wanted to leave you. I saw she had money. I’m useless, I can’t earn much. You work so hard to support us. I just wanted to help you…” Right. So I really should give him an award. Selling his body to feed his wife. Kissing me by day, servicing a sugar mama by night. A martyr of capitalism. “Okay,” I looked down at him. “So tell me. She’s suing us for fraud. She wants the money back. What do we do?” Zack stiffened his neck. “Who cares! She gave it willingly! I earned that money! Why give it back?” I told him to get up, but he hugged my leg tighter. “Honey, if you don’t forgive me, I won’t get up. What do I have to do?” I lowered my voice. “I can forgive you. Unless…” Chapter 4 I knew something was up six months ago when Zack sent the first transfer. He said his boss gave him a stock tip that made $15,000. I believe in bird sh*t falling from the sky, not free money. I thought he was doing something illegal. I was anxious for days. Then I checked his phone while he slept. I found the texts with Melanie. I have to admit, Zack provides excellent emotional value. That’s why I married him. He’s attentive. With Melanie, he was a master. He had her hooked in three sentences, sending him money and kissy emojis. The funny part was, Zack immediately transferred the money to me. My first instinct was divorce. My best friend, Sarah, called me an idiot. I argued, but she rolled her eyes and asked: “That necklace you’re wearing. How much?” I paused. “$4,000.” “The bracelet?” “$800.” “The bag?” My mouth twitched. I couldn’t help but smile. She grinned back. “Get it now?” My gloom vanished. “Look at you. Decked out in designer gear in just a few months.” I drank my juice, praising Sarah’s wisdom. “You’re not doing bad either!” Sarah stared at me. “Think of it as putting Zack’s ‘idle asset’ to work. Creating revenue for the household. It’s brilliant!” I nodded. “Makes sense.” She laughed wickedly. “If it were me, I’d serve that mistress so well she’d be begging to send more money.” I raised my glass. “To you. For waking me up.” “What else do you need?” She asked, eyes gleaming. I pretended to think. “I need a car. An Audi A6.” … A month later, money for an Audi A6 hit my account. I pretended not to know the source, happily accepting it and moving it to a separate account. I made Zack soup, rewarding him for his “hard work.” Zack drank the soup, moved to tears. He was used to chasing me. When I was nice, he melted. “Honey, you’re so good to me,” he sniffled. I smiled. Not as hard as you work, taking the night shift. When I told him my plan—fake divorce so he could go back for one last score—Zack cried. He hugged me, sobbing. “Honey, you still haven’t forgiven me! I was wrong… I won’t do it again…” I pushed him away, fighting the nausea. “I don’t blame you. Really!” He swallowed hard. “Are you serious?” “Of course.” I handed him a slice of apple. “We get a fake divorce. You go coax her, make up, and keep the money flowing.” He stared for a few seconds. “You… aren’t afraid I’ll actually run off?” I laughed. “Would you?” He shook his head violently. “Never. I’ll never leave you.” I leaned back on the sofa. “Melanie is a gold mine. A walking wallet. We need to think about the future. Do you think $850,000 is enough? Is it enough to raise a kid for ten years? No.” He was silent, eyes red. “Zack, I’m planning for us. For our family. The opportunity is right there. It’s up to you.”

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Chapter 1 “Honey, eat a little more.” This was the sixth time my parents had served me rice today. In a tiny bowl, sure, but I’d already demolished five of them. I waved my hand. “No more. I’ve lost my appetite.” My parents exchanged glances, and then my mom started tearing up. “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? You ate so little today… has Mom’s cooking gotten worse?” My glamorous mother threw herself into my dashing father’s arms, both of them sobbing like it was the end of the world. Seeing Mom so heartbroken, I didn’t dare mention dieting. I maneuvered my electric wheelchair and practically fled the scene. “I’m fine, Mom! Just going to the bathroom!” “Don’t clear the table, I’ll eat more later!” I’m Penny. Thanks to overindulgent parents and hormonal issues, I’ve managed to become a 330-pound girl who’s the butt of everyone’s jokes. Ten minutes ago, I got some bad news. The class beauty from high school, Chloe, got into the same college as me. Same major, too. She found the school hunk’s contact info on the campus network, pretended to be me to start an online relationship with him, and agreed to meet him when school starts. She threatened me, saying if I didn’t show up, I’d regret it. She’d print out my “beautiful” photos and hand them out to everyone. I was terrified. I didn’t want my college life to start with me being a laughingstock again. Just then, a metallic voice rang in my head. “Host Penny detected. Weight: 340 lbs. Meets criteria for the Fat Exchange System. Bind?” Chapter 2 I blinked. What? A panel appeared in front of me, filled with bizarre items. The only commonality was that they all required exchanging fat. After reading through it, I gasped. I knew I was the chosen one! 1kg of fat could be exchanged for $1,500. Daily limit: 10kg. I didn’t believe it. I had to try. Hehehe! Let’s try exchanging 5kg first. “Congratulations, exchange successful. Current weight: 330 lbs.” Simultaneously, a pleasant notification sound came from my phone. “Venmo received: $7,500.” I scrutinized my face in the mirror for a long time but gave up. I didn’t see any difference. But the $7,500 in my Venmo was definitely real. I opened the charity app I often donated to and impulsively donated all $7,500 to a project supporting underprivileged girls. Only when the screen displayed “Thank you for your donation” did it feel somewhat real. I couldn’t help but hug my phone in ecstasy! Thank you, Universe! I love you! Mwah! Chapter 3 Just as I was celebrating, a text from Chloe came through. “Piggy, you’re about to meet your hubby online. Remember to wash yourself clean.” “I don’t know how you have the courage to live being so fat. If I were you, I’d just die.” “Pig, friendly reminder, there are nine days left until college starts.” “See you at college.” My mood plummeted instantly. My beef with Chloe goes way back. At the start of freshman year in high school, I accidentally knocked Chloe’s pencil case off her desk. The boy behind us mocked Chloe, saying her stuff was rooted by a pig. Chloe burst into tears. Instead of getting mad at the boy, she turned her anger on me. From then on, she led the charge in bullying me, making my life miserable. I finally got into college, thinking I could escape all this, but fate had other plans. We ended up at the same university again. Was history about to repeat itself? Chapter 4 The system reminded me: “Host, you can exchange 10kg of fat daily. Anything on Earth can be exchanged.” I tested it: “I want an aircraft carrier?” System: “…F*ck.” Realizing its lack of manners, the system quickly changed its tone, trying to guide me. “Why don’t you watch some live streams and tip those handsome male models? It provides great emotional value and will improve your mood.” I shook my head. “Men.” What’s the difference between throwing money at men and throwing it into the water? I’d rather donate to charity. Men, not even worth a… Look! I’m looking at men! I opened TikTok, and the first thing I saw was my former high school classmate. Peyton. I used to have a crush on him. The reason was shallow: when Chloe bullied me, only he spoke up for me. “We’re all classmates, don’t go too far.” But later, Chloe tore a page from my diary and slipped it into his textbook. He was the one who called it disgusting. “Welcome ‘I Want to Lose 200 Pounds’ to the stream.” “Interesting ID. Welcome, miss.” His warm voice was pleasant. He wasn’t like this at school. It was always, “Fat pig, get lost,” followed by roaring laughter from everyone. He posted my diary page on the school bulletin board. No matter how I explained it wasn’t me, everyone just laughed at my delusional crush. Maybe some believed me, but that didn’t stop them from mocking me… I snapped out of my memories. The stream already had nearly five thousand viewers. Chapter 5 Peyton was in a PK battle with a middle-aged man in clown makeup who looked a bit chubby. The opponent had only fifty viewers. “PrettyLady” sent a combo of “Love Blast” x10. Pink bubbles filled the screen. Peyton smirked. “Thanks, Chloe.” I wasn’t stupid; I knew this was Chloe’s alt account. Peyton used his nice voice to say nasty things. “Uncle, I won’t bully you. If you lose, just drink iced tea.” The comments were full of “Hahahaha,” confusing me. What kind of punishment was that? Just as I was puzzled, someone in the comments explained. “Making him write ‘pee’ on the iced tea bottle. It’s basically public humiliation.” I frowned. So insulting. Peyton had over five thousand viewers; the uncle had fifty. There was no way the uncle could win. But the uncle gritted his teeth and accepted the bet. “I agree, but if I win, can you ask your viewers to follow me?” Peyton scoffed. “Uncle, what do you need followers for?” The uncle said earnestly, “I want to get sponsors. I need a thousand followers to get sponsors.” “Hahahaha.” Laughter filled the screen again. Curiosity drove me to click on his stream. Traffic was dismal, the background was simple, and his clown makeup was running with sweat, making him look truly pathetic. Just as I was about to close it, I heard the system tut. “This guy is pitiful.” Me: “Huh? What’s wrong?” Just a guy chasing clout, right? The system explained: “His daughter has leukemia. He’s clowning around because he has no money. Otherwise, who at his age would want to be a laughingstock?” Peyton’s stream was still laughing… I felt a surge of inexplicable anger. I heard myself say something very chuunibyou to the system: Today, I’m staying here. I’m going to make this uncle win. Chapter 6 Peyton’s fans wouldn’t let up on the uncle. They kept belittling him to boost Peyton. After “PrettyLady” dropped a Castle gift, the comments exploded like fireworks. The mockery intensified: “Uncle’s wrinkles could trap flies.” “So old and still battling a handsome guy? Anything for money? Bet his butt is saggy too. Hahaha.” My fingers hovered over the keyboard, chest tight. This collective malice was snowballing, and Peyton turned a blind eye. The uncle also ignored it, smiling obsequiously, as if he’d do anything for traffic. I took a deep breath and typed: “Do you know his daughter has leukemia? He’s not begging based on his daughter’s illness; he’s earning it himself. What’s wrong with that?” The comments paused for a second, then erupted with even fiercer attacks, including me this time. “Here we go again, classic leukemia scam.” “Are these two in cahoots?” “Scammers work in teams now?” “Proof? Show medical records! Show the GoFundMe!” “Even if it’s true, fundraising in an entertainment PK? Sick in the head.” I couldn’t take it anymore: “Donate. Isn’t this a PK? Whoever loses is the other’s grandson today.”

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On the day my fiancé got engaged to the “real” daughter, I thought about driving my car straight into the ceremony. I wanted to end it all, take them with me in a blaze of glory. But just as that manic thought consumed me, my phone rang. It was the hospital. “Miss Quinn, you’re pregnant…” I killed the engine and sat there, frozen. Thirty minutes later, as joyous music drifted from the engagement hall, I started the car, made a U-turn, and headed for the airport. From that moment on, the “fake” daughter of the Quinn family disappeared from New York, just as everyone wanted. I moved to a small southern town a thousand miles away. I barely survived a disaster, gave birth to my daughter—my own flesh and blood—and cut all ties with my past. Until four years later, when they started showing up, one by one. 1 The first time I saw Silas again after four years was at the kindergarten gate. I had just picked up my daughter, Lily, when another mom nudged me. “Hey, Lily’s mom, look across the street. That guy looks like that famous singer… what’s his name again?” I followed her gaze and saw him. “Silas!” The mom slapped her forehead. “Right, Silas! The singer-songwriter who’s been sweeping all the awards lately! “You know, honestly, he kind of looks like you. Both of you have those good genes…” I looked away. “Never heard of him.” She looked surprised. “You don’t listen to music? That’s Silas! And really, looking closely, you two could be siblings…” I smiled, shook my head, and held Lily’s hand tighter as we walked away. “Sarah.” His voice came from behind me. I ignored it and kept walking. “Sarah Quinn!” Lily looked up. “Mommy, is that man calling you? Why did he call you Sarah Quinn?” I smiled down at her. “He mistook me for someone else, sweetie.” But as I reached for my car door in the parking lot, someone grabbed my arm. I turned around. It was Silas, out of breath. “Sarah… you’re actually alive?!” His words were as sharp and stinging as ever. But maybe because he had been running, the rims of his eyes were slightly red. 2 I dropped Lily off at a neighbor’s house. When I came back downstairs, Silas was standing there with his hands in his pockets. “Why do you live in a dump like this? Where’s your apartment? I want to see it.” I shook my head. “No need.” Four years ago, he told me his only sister was Sophie. He told me that being called “brother” by someone like me made him sick. When my adoptive brother, Ethan Quinn, kicked me out, and my fiancé, Lucas, abandoned me, I had nowhere to go. I thought of Silas, my biological brother. I stood outside his agency all night in a snowstorm, freezing to the bone. But all I got was him saying his biggest wish was that I had never been born. “If you weren’t born, Sophie wouldn’t have been switched at birth. She wouldn’t have suffered so much. “Sister? Don’t make me laugh. The Quinns threw you out, so now you’re playing the blood-relation card? “I’ll never acknowledge someone like you as my sister.” That was when I realized: no matter how good I was to him, he would always hate me because of Sophie. Now, he looked at me with that same scrutinizing gaze. “Is that kid Lucas’s? Did you run away just to have his baby?” I was silent for a moment. “She’s my child. Mine alone.” He scoffed. “Sarah, she looks exactly like him. Do you think I’m blind? “Did you think having a secret baby would win him back? You’re delusional… “It’s pathetic. Truly stupid…” “I said, she is my child,” I interrupted. “I never planned on going back to New York. I never planned on using her to fight Sophie for Lucas. You can relax. You don’t need to be so aggressive. “Like you said years ago, other than blood, we’re strangers. I’m not interested in your life, so please stay out of mine.” He froze. “If there’s nothing else, you should leave.” I turned to go. “Wait.” He grabbed my arm again. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “You… you…” I frowned. “What?” “Why did you leave back then?” I looked at him calmly. “You were a spoiled princess who couldn’t do anything. Just because people said a few mean things, you played the runaway victim? “If I hadn’t seen you today, how long were you planning to live in this poverty? And these past four years…” He paused. “How… how did you survive?” 3 I looked at his red-rimmed eyes. He was probably angry. Surprised I was alive. Because my existence was a threat to Sophie’s happiness. How did I survive? Someone traded their life for mine. But I didn’t need to tell him that. The old Sarah Quinn was a delicate flower, helpless without support. The new Sarah Song doesn’t cry or beg anyone for anything. Seeing my silence, he got agitated. “Why are you so slow now? Did that big earthquake down here a few years ago shake your brain loose? “Running to a godforsaken place like this… you deserved to get caught in an earthquake.” Just then, a neighbor walked by. “Hey, Sarah! Haven’t started dinner yet?” I smiled. “Just about to.” Silas stared. “You should go,” I said. But he wouldn’t let go. “Why did you change your name? Sarah Song? Did you get married? Who’s Song?” “It’s none of your business,” I said, prying his fingers off my arm, one by one. “My name, my life… Silas, it has nothing to do with you.” 4 Silas was a celebrity. He couldn’t be seen making a scene in public. I went upstairs, picked up Lily, and watched from the window as he stood downstairs, looking lost. He never cared about me before. His confusion now was probably just because he wasn’t used to my coldness. Four years ago, when I found out about his musical dreams, I used every connection I had in New York to get him a stage. I got him into the best agency. He was my brother. He had suffered growing up poor. I wanted him to succeed. But he twisted my kindness, claiming I was just trying to isolate Sophie and make her feel bad. “Mommy, is that man your family?” I paused, then smiled and stroked Lily’s hair. “No, honey. Why would you think that?” “Just guessing. You look alike.” Family. Ethan Quinn’s face flashed in my mind. I always thought Ethan would be my brother forever, blood or no blood. But four years ago, he held Sophie—who had “fallen” down the stairs—and looked at me with pure rage. “Sarah, you are a disappointment. “From today on, you are not a Quinn. You are not my sister. “My only sister is Sophie.” I cried, I begged, I swore I didn’t push her. But he kicked me away and carried Sophie out without looking back. I shook my head. “That man is not Mommy’s family.” She looked disappointed. “I thought maybe I had other family besides Uncle Sam.” I tapped her nose. “Mommy has you, and we have Uncle Sam in our hearts. That’s enough.” “But Uncle Sam is gone…” She pouted. “I miss him.” I understood. But disappointment is better than the pain of being loved and then discarded. I’ve been through it. I won’t let my daughter go through it. I just didn’t expect to see Ethan the very next day.

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After rocking the world of the Julian Thorne—heir to the Thorne empire—for one wild, unforgettable night, the System gave me a notification: Time to skedaddle. His “destined” Female Lead was coming online. I fled the hospital that very night, but I didn’t leave empty-handed. I stole something of his. Four years later. My daughter got into a fight at kindergarten. The teacher called both parents. I rushed over, only to find a terrifyingly familiar man crouching in front of my child, begging for an answer. “Tell me, little one… what is your mommy’s name?” 1 “Hailey!” The man froze. “What? Not Harper?” The little girl wrinkled her nose. “Mister, you might be handsome, but you can’t just go around changing my mommy’s name.” “Impossible… absolutely impossible…” The man, usually so composed and commanding, shook his head in disbelief. He dropped to one knee, reaching out as if to hug this miniature version of himself. But when the girl stepped back in fear, his hand dropped to his side, defeated. “Little one, how old are you?” She pouted. “Mommy said I can’t talk to strangers.” “Strangers…” The man sucked in a sharp breath, the blood draining from his handsome face. The teacher standing nearby was totally lost. Here’s the tea: during playtime this afternoon, the best-behaved girl in class got into a brawl with the class bully. The bully, despite his size, got absolutely wrecked by my little girl. The bully’s dad? The CEO of Thorne Corp. Rumor had it Julian Thorne spoiled his wife and son rotten. The Thorne family treated that boy like a golden egg. Meanwhile, my daughter comes from a single-parent home. Just me and her against the world. We were supposed to be toast. Sure enough, Julian Thorne stormed in with an entourage. But when he realized the other parent was late, just as he was about to explode, he caught a glimpse of the little girl standing in time-out. His face changed instantly. He ignored his own son—who was stomping his feet and crying “Dad! Daddy! Dad!”—and started grilling my daughter. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was the one who got called in for her. 2 I was hiding outside the door, my heart hammering against my ribs like a drum solo. I couldn’t go in, couldn’t run away. [System! We have a Code Red! Where are you? You said we wouldn’t cross paths again!] My palms were sweating against the door handle. I watched through the crack. My daughter was still in there. I had to go in. Even though the System had tweaked my appearance a bit, if Julian recognized me, the game was over. He’d find out about Lily. Would he try to take her from me? While I was hesitating, a cheerful voice piped up behind me. “Lily’s mom? Why are you standing out here?” “Don’t worry, we’re just here to resolve a little conflict.” A teacher I recognized reached past me and threw the door open. 3 I stumbled into the office under the gaze of everyone in the room. My daughter stood ramrod straight, her little face tense with stubbornness. But the second she saw me, the tears fell. She threw herself into my arms. “Mommy!” Her tears soaked my shirt. My heart shattered. I held her tight. She was such a tough cookie. She’d held it together all this time, refusing to cry in front of them. But seeing me broke the dam. I patted her back gently, whispering comforts while fishing a couple of gummy bears out of my pocket. A sharp, predatory gaze had locked onto me the moment I entered. Now, it felt like a physical weight on my shoulder. Suffocating. I didn’t look at the man. I turned to the teacher. “He started it!” the bully yelled. “We were playing House. I wanted to be the Daddy, but she said she didn’t need one! She said her house is fine with just a Mommy!” “How can she not need a Daddy? She didn’t pop out of a rock!” My voice went cold. “And? What else?” I didn’t believe my daughter would throw hands over just that. She’s heard “no dad” taunts before. If she hit people every time she heard that, she’d be a UFC champion by now. The bully went quiet, glancing at his father. Julian stood there, eyes icy. “What else did you say?” he asked his son. “I said… everyone has a dad. My mommy said only bad kids get thrown away by their dads.” The room went silent. Kids can be so cruel in their innocence. I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to punt a child across the room. I turned my daughter around and checked her for injuries. Then I walked up to the bully. “Did you scratch her neck?” The kid was spoiled, but faced with an angry adult, he panicked. He tugged his dad’s pant leg. No reaction. Tears welled up. I ignored his father completely. “Apologize to Lily. Now.” The bully glared at me. “No!” He shoved me and tried to run. I grabbed him by the collar, lifting him like a chicken. “Your dad won’t teach you?” I glanced at the gloomy man beside me. “Fine. I will.” The teacher looked ready to intervene, but Julian stopped her with a look. Teacher: ??? “Let me go! Do you know who my mom is?!” The brat kicked his legs. “I don’t care who your mom is. Apologize, or we stay here all night.” Suddenly, a flash of pink rushed into my vision. The weight in my hand vanished. Slap! A stinging pain exploded across my cheek. A petite, well-dressed woman snatched the boy, hugged him, and screamed at the teacher. “You were just going to watch this crazy woman assault my son? I’m suing this school!” She glared at me, then tugged Julian’s sleeve. “Hubby, call the police!” My face burned. I felt a trickle of blood—her diamond nail art had cut me. Lily saw the blood and started wailing, hugging my leg. “Mommy, I’m sorry! I apologize! I’m sorry!” My heart twisted. I looked at the family of three opposite me. I’d never met her, but I knew exactly who she was. Gemma. The Female Lead. 4 In the car. Silence. I took Lily to McDonald’s. She just sat there, picking at the placemat. Her silence hurt more than the scratch on my face. The principal had stepped in to de-escalate things. Gemma left threatening to sue everyone. Julian just stared at Lily. I shielded her from his gaze. For four years, I raised her alone, surviving on the System’s mission rewards. I never figured out how to explain the “missing father” part. Today, it blew up in my face. I thought about the bully—Jett. Strong, loud, fearless. A kid raised in a honey pot. And he was the same age as Lily… So, I left, and the Female Lead stepped right in. She conquered the heart I spent three years trying to warm up. Did he fall for her at first sight, too? “Mommy…” A soft voice broke my trance. A strawberry shake was pushed toward me. “Mommy, you drink it.” Lily’s eyes were red, her face stubborn but cute. “I thought you wanted this?” I asked. I usually limited her sugar, so this was a rare treat. “I want Mommy to be happy.” She muttered, “I was wrong today.” “What did you do wrong?” “I didn’t beat Jett fast enough.” She clenched a tiny fist. “Next time, I won’t lose!” I laughed through my tears and ruffled her hair. “Mommy was wrong too. I shouldn’t have asked for an apology. I should have just spanked him!” The image of Jett flying through the air made Lily giggle. We shared a Happy Meal and planned our next playground strategy. We didn’t notice the luxury car parked across the street. Or that it followed us all the way home.

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Right before I died, I looked my wicked stepmother in the eye and gasped, “Grandpa left me a hundred million dollars… the money is hidden… it’s hidden in…” I didn’t get to finish. I flatlined. My stepmother, tears streaming down her fake face, screamed at the doctor, “You heard her! Bring her back and I’ll give you half!” The doctor raised his hands dramatically. “By the power of Thor, I banish the darkness!” Zap. Literal lightning struck down, turning my gorgeous body into a piece of charcoal. I stood next to the bed in spirit form, smiling beatifically. Thank you. Seriously. 1 I knew about my stepmother’s plan to kill me and stage it as a suicide ages ago. Don’t ask how. Let’s just say I have a gift. My soul can detach from my body at will. As long as my physical shell remains intact, I can hop back in within two hours. So when I found out she hired a hitman, I was thrilled. I was sick of playing nice with that snake. I figured I’d pull a Houdini—let her think she succeeded, then sneak off abroad with my inheritance. My dad could rest easy in his grave knowing we weren’t fighting anymore. But… what the hell is this doctor doing? Did he just barbecue me? “By the power of Thor”? Who does he think he is, an Avenger? My stepmom was so shocked she forgot to fake-cry. Her jaw hit the floor. “It… it’s burnt?” The doctor scratched his head, looking sheepish. “Sorry about that. Just learned that spell. Haven’t quite mastered it. I got a little excited when you mentioned fifty million.” Wow. This guy has a way with words. I hovered over him, hands around his spectral neck, screaming, “You quack! Die!” 2 Watching my beautiful, curvy body turn into a briquette was heartbreaking. But what’s done is done. I needed a new ride. Ideally, someone who just died. Freshly deceased. If I jump in fast enough, I can reboot the system. Where do you find fresh bodies? The hospital, obviously. I floated into an operating room. It was a bloody mess. C-section gone wrong. I heard the doctors say she was hemorrhaging and fading fast. I was grinning at the opportunity until a mournful gaze pinned me in place. The woman, a weeping beauty, stared right at me. “I didn’t think anyone would smile at my death.” Me: “It’s not personal.” She blinked. “You can see me?” “Yeah, we’re both dead. Well, you’re dead-dead. I’m just shopping for a rental.” She was shocked. “Are you… gifted?” “Sure. Look, lend me your body. I promise I’ll take care of it. I’ll do yoga and everything.” She hesitated, but the frantic voices of the doctors pushed her. “Patient has flatlined! The baby isn’t out yet!” “Get the baby out! Prepare the defibrillator!” The woman practically knelt before my spirit. “Okay. Take it. Just save my baby. Please.” The nurse shouted, “We have a pulse!” I dove into the body. Pain—searing, blinding pain—hit me instantly. I screamed and rolled right back out. “Patient flatlined again!” The woman looked panicked. She grabbed my spirit and shoved me back toward her corpse. “Pulse is back!” I howled. “It hurts! It hurts so bad!” 3 Childbirth is a scam. It hurts like hell. Never doing this again. I asked the woman’s spirit, “No anesthesia?” “The doctor didn’t give me any.” Excuse me? “I don’t know why. He just said no.” This sounded familiar. It reminded me of a trashy web novel I read. The female lead needed surgery, but the CEO’s “White Moonlight”—his first love—bribed the doctor to withhold anesthesia. The female lead died of pain. I sweated through my new skin. “Wait. Is your name Wendy?” She widened her innocent doe eyes. “How did you know?” “Just a lucky guess.” I remembered crying my eyes out reading that book. The author had the nerve to resurrect the heroine later so she could end up with the scumbag CEO. I spent weeks DM-ing the author, thanking her ancestors for the trauma. Wendy tugged at my spectral sleeve. “Please. Help me. I don’t want my baby to grow up without a mom.” I didn’t want to deal with this mess, but honestly? I didn’t have a choice. 4 The moment Wendy died, the Reapers showed up. Mist filled the room. Two figures emerged—one tall and thin, one short and stout. Hats on their heads. “Get Rich” written on one, “Peace on Earth” on the other. I sat up in the spirit realm (while technically occupying the body) and waved. “Hey, boys. Long time no see.” The White Reaper froze. He glared. “Quinn? You died again?” “Hey, accidents happen. Look, I’m borrowing Wendy’s body. You guys can take her soul, but leave the vessel.” The Black Reaper growled. “Quinn, go find your own body. This one still has fate attached to it…” The White Reaper nudged him, cutting him off. “Fine. Take it. But you have to resolve Wendy’s regrets.” What regrets? A scumbag ex and a baby. I nodded vigorously. “Got it. Trust me, I won’t let her get back together with that trash bag. I’ll ruin him.” The White Reaper sighed. “No! I mean, you have to follow her destiny…” “Haha, no way.” “Then no deal.” I blew on my ghostly nails. “Think about it. If I follow her destiny, I have to date that scumbag, marry him, sleep with him… if The Boss finds out…” I gave them a knowing look. The Reapers shut up. They knew I meant business. Wendy was tugging my sleeve again. “My baby… save my baby.” “See? She wants me to save the kid.” The White Reaper looked pale. “Quinn!” “Tell your Boss I said hi.” “Quinn…” “Bye!” I waved them off. “I’ll raise the kid. I’ll crush the mistress. I’ll grind the scumbag into dust. Trust me. Ciao.”

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My husband found himself a wealthy mistress. Every few days, he’d secretly transfer money to my account. In just six months, he sent me a cool $618,000. I was considering divorcing him. But then I thought about it. Screw that! Divorce? Every second spent thinking about leaving him was an insult to the money. Where else would I find such a “family-oriented” husband who hustles so hard for our bank account? I should let him rake in a little more, right? 1 Sierra slapped me so hard my face burned instantly. “Are you crazy?” I looked up at her, clutching my cheek, totally bewildered. “Chloe! You liar! Are you and your husband running a scam on me?!” Before I could react, my coworkers swarmed around us. “Who are you? Why did you hit her?” She pointed a finger right at my nose and started screaming. “Your husband, Chase, used my credit card to transfer money to you! Six hundred and eighteen thousand dollars in six months! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” I froze for a second, then it clicked. Ah. This must be Chase’s sugar mama. The “Side Piece.” She grabbed my collar, her face twisted in rage. “You dirty couple! Six hundred grand! Did you think I was an ATM just to clear your shopping cart?” With that one sentence, I became the center of attention. Every phone in the office was out, cameras flashing. Sierra raised her hand and slapped me again, knocking me to the floor. She shouted to everyone, “Look at her! This woman is a fraud! She and her husband are scammers!” She cursed and tried to hit me again. My coworker, Lisa, stepped in. “That’s enough! We know Chloe. Stop or we’re calling the cops!” “Call them! Do it!” She laughed like a maniac. “I want to see how she explains this to the police! Spending my money? I’m going to beat you until you’re toothless, or my name isn’t Sierra Vance!” She was thrashing like an angry octopus, trying to tear me apart. My colleagues held her back while she screamed. I smoothed my messy hair and stood up. Calm. Unbothered. “Ma’am. You keep saying my husband and I scammed you. I don’t even know who you are. How exactly did I scam you?” She glared at me, trembling. “Don’t play dumb! I don’t believe you don’t know who I am!” I gasped, covering my mouth in mock surprise. “Wait… what is your relationship with him?” Sierra blushed, glancing around nervously. “It doesn’t matter! You stole my money, and you’re going to pay it back!” I stared straight into her eyes. “Are you… my husband’s mistress?” That set her off. She lunged. “Bullshit! He’s keeping me? He’s a broke driver! He couldn’t afford me! I was keeping him…” The office gasped in collective shock. I smiled faintly. “So, you admit you had an affair with my husband?” She choked but doubled down. “So what?! Chase is a dog! He spent my money, drove my car, and used my cash to support his wife!” I pulled out my phone, satisfied. “I recorded that. And I’ve called the police for assault. My colleagues are witnesses.” “See you at the precinct.” Hearing I was pressing charges, Sierra lost it completely and tried to swing at me again. 2 The police arrived just in time. We were hauled off to the station. The moment we sat down, she started wailing. She claimed fraud, emotional damage, the works. She pulled out chat logs and transfer records with Chase as proof. “Officer, look! I bought him a house, a car! And he gave all the money to this woman! How could he do this to me?” Tears streamed down her face. She was genuinely heartbroken by Chase’s betrayal. But the cops just stared at her. Like she was an idiot. She claimed fraud, but her own evidence proved she was having an affair. She knew he was married. A homewrecker coming after the wife? The audacity was impressive. “Civil disputes aren’t our jurisdiction,” the officer said dryly. She jumped up. “He used my money to feed his wife! There has to be a law against that!” Just as she was about to throw a tantrum, Chase arrived. Sierra flew at him, pummeling his chest. “Chase, you bastard! You played me!” She collapsed into sobbing hysterics. The police pried them apart. Chase, face scratched and bleeding, glared at her. “Sierra, are you out of your mind?” “You call me crazy?! Where is your conscience? I treated you like a king, and you gave everything to her behind my back!” Chase didn’t even blink. “Stop screaming! She’s my wife! Who else am I supposed to spend money on?” I watched from the side, jaw on the floor. Well. That was a new one. He saw me then, and his face transformed into pure concern. He rushed over. “Babe, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Seeing the bruise on my face, he turned on Sierra, furious. “Look what you did! I told you to leave my wife alone!” Sierra snapped. “Chase! How can you do this? Are you even a man?” “Yesterday you held me and said you loved me! You said you wanted to marry me! If I hadn’t seen the transfers, you would have emptied my accounts, wouldn’t you?!” “I said I loved you and you believed it?” Sierra wept, broken. “You said you had no feelings for your wife! You said she was a nag! You said she was a dead fish in bed! You said I was exciting…” “Shut up!” Chase turned beet red. “Have some shame!” “I’m telling you the truth now. I never loved you! I was just with you for the money!” “You were stupid enough to throw yourself at me!” “I only love my wife. Get that through your head!” He grabbed my hand and dragged me out, leaving Sierra standing there in the wreckage of her delusion. 3 The moment we got home, Chase dropped to his knees on the living room tiles. “Chloe, I messed up.” I ignored him, pouring myself a glass of water. “I’m scum. I shouldn’t have let you get hurt. I was blinded by greed. I don’t care about her money or her looks… she just… she threw money at me…” He was crying now, begging. It was confusing. Did he love me? He cheated. Did he hate me? He hustled over half a million dollars from his mistress and gave it all to me. “So, what? Should I give you a ‘Husband of the Year’ award?” He went pale. “I just made a mistake. It’s a mistake any man could make…” The bedroom door opened. My in-laws rushed out. “You idiot!” My mother-in-law smacked the back of his head. “We have a good life! Why go out and mess around?” They didn’t know the details, only that their son had angered me again. Since Chase was useless career-wise and I paid the bills, they always took my side. After a scolding, Chase confessed everything. A year ago, he got a job driving for a wealthy tycoon. Over the last six months, he transferred me $1.3 million total. I asked where it came from. He said the boss gave him stock tips. Turns out, he was being a gigolo. Sierra was the tycoon’s mistress. And she was keeping Chase on the side. My in-laws were horrified. His mom started crying. “You worthless boy! Earning dirty money like that!” Chase hung his head, face burning. “I know I was wrong. But I swear, I never wanted a divorce. I felt nothing for her!” “Nothing? Then why sleep with her? Can’t control yourself?” His mom raised her hand again. Chase flinched. “She forced it! She said I was… good. She said her old man was useless, treating her like a pet. She was lonely! She threatened suicide if I left…” I scoffed. “Popular guy.” He crawled to me, grabbing my pant leg. “Chloe, I swear, I never wanted to leave you. I just saw how rich she was. I make nothing. You work so hard… I just wanted to help…” Right. So I should give him an award. Selling his body to support his wife. Kissing me by day, servicing a sugar mama by night. The hustle was real. “Okay,” I looked down at him. “So, she’s suing us for fraud. She wants the money back. What’s the plan?” Chase stiffened. “Screw her! She gave it willingly! I earned that money! Why should I give it back?” I told him to get up, but he clung to my leg. “Chloe, if you don’t forgive me, I won’t get up. What do I have to do?” I stared at him. “I can forgive you. But…” 4 Six months ago, when the first transfer hit, I knew something was off. Stock tips? From a billionaire to a chauffeur? Please. I checked his phone while he slept. I found the texts with Sierra. Chase was a master manipulator. He gave her exactly the emotional validation she craved, and she paid him for it. The funny part was, he immediately forwarded the cash to me. My first instinct was divorce. My best friend, Zoe, called me an idiot. “That necklace you’re wearing? How much?” she asked. “Three grand.” “Bracelet?” “Five hundred.” “Bag?” I couldn’t help it. I smiled. She grinned back. “See?” My anger evaporated. “Look,” Zoe said. “Your husband’s… equipment… was just gathering dust. Now he’s putting it to work for the family economy. It’s brilliant!” I nodded. “Valid point.” “If it were me,” she laughed, “I’d make sure he kept that mistress happy so the checks keep clearing.” I raised my glass. “To you. The voice of reason.” “What else do you need?” she asked mischievously. I pretended to think. “An Audi A6.” A month later, the money for the Audi hit my account. I pretended not to know where it came from. I moved it to a secure account. I made Chase soup. A reward for his hard labor. He drank it with tears in his eyes. He used to beg for my attention. Now that I was “sweet” to him, he was putty in my hands. “Babe, you’re so good to me,” he sniffled. I smiled. Not as good as you, working the night shift. When I told him we needed to fake a divorce so he could scam her for one last big score, he cried. “Chloe! You haven’t forgiven me! I won’t do it!” I pushed him away gently. “I don’t blame you. Really.” He gulped. “Serious?” “Yes. We divorce on paper. You go back, make up with her, and keep the money flowing.” He stared. “You… aren’t afraid I’ll leave for real?” I laughed. “Could you?” He shook his head violently. “Never.” I leaned back. “Sierra is a gold mine. $600k isn’t enough for a kid, for a future. We need to think big.” He was silent, eyes red. “Chase, I’m doing this for us. For our family,” I said softly. “The opportunity is right there. Are you willing to do the work?”

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I’m the C-list model the entire internet loves to hate, yet somehow, I’m the one who officially bagged the A-list Movie Star. Right now, the production crew has installed hidden cameras all over our house for a livestream. The catch? I have absolutely no idea. On the screen, Liam Sterling walks up to me, looking cold and annoyed. “Are you reading that novel again?” The chat room goes wild with hate comments. “Chloe Hart is always staging these fake lovey-dovey moments. Finally, her true colors are showing.” “Liam looks so done with her.” Liam’s parents and his younger sister are glued to their phones, watching the stream. “If Chloe is really as trashy as the tabloids say,” his mother mutters, “we have to make them break up, by any means necessary.” But in the living room, unaware of the millions watching, I don’t act like the doting girlfriend everyone expects. I shove the Hollywood heartthrob away impatiently. “Move. You’re blocking my light.” Liam stumbles back a step. Instead of getting mad, he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a pathetic, puppy-dog whine. “Is my Chlo-Chlo sick of me already?” … 1 The day I went public with Liam Sterling, the internet tried to bury me alive. I trended on Twitter for three days straight—and not in a good way. “What is happening? I’ve been shipping Liam and Tessa for years! How is this real?” “Chloe Hart has no shame. She knows Liam and Tessa Lane are childhood sweethearts, yet she still wedged herself in there!” My boyfriend, Liam, is the youngest actor to ever win Best Actor at the Oscars. Tessa Lane is America’s Sweetheart, the top pop star and actress. They grew up together. They filmed together. Liam, usually a recluse, even went on variety shows just for her. They were the Nation’s Power Couple. Until I, the “manipulative gold-digger,” ruined everything. On the day of our announcement, Tessa was interviewed on set. With a brave smile, she said, “Liam and Chloe are… well, I’m sure they’re happy.” Then she turned around, and a single, perfect tear rolled down her cheek. The paparazzi caught it in 4K. The internet exploded. They claimed I used dirty tactics to trap him. They said his family hated me. To be fair, they weren’t entirely wrong. Liam’s parents are old-money business tycoons. They’ve always been cold to me. His sister, Lily, is a high schooler who refuses to say my name, referring to me only as “that Instagram model.” There’s even a Twitter account called “Did Liam Dump Chloe Today?” that tracks my every move. But honestly? I didn’t care. Liam and I were solid. He was killing it in Hollywood. I had my own modeling gigs—my “villain” reputation actually got me more bookings. I had a hot guy in my bed and money in the bank. Why would I care what strangers thought? I just stayed offline. I just didn’t expect them to hate me this much. Apparently, Liam’s agent booked him for a “Day in the Life” livestream to promote his new movie. Liam agreed. He just forgot to tell me. So, while I was lounging on the sofa in an oversized, ratty T-shirt, the cameras started rolling. 2 “That model doesn’t know about the livestream… what if she says something stupid and ruins Liam’s career?” Lily Sterling stared anxiously at her phone screen. Liam had just come back from a long shoot. He waved briefly at the camera, then ignored it. The chat, however, was on fire. “I can’t believe we get to see inside Liam’s house!” “Do you think Chloe will show up?” “God, I hope not. My eyes can’t handle the trash.” “Don’t worry, guys. This stream will expose her. We’ll finally see what a nightmare she is!” Liam’s parents were watching, too. “If she really is as awful as the rumors say,” his dad grumbled, “we need to intervene.” They didn’t know me well. They respected Liam’s choices, but the rumors were getting to them. “This is a good opportunity,” his mom added. “We’ll see the truth.” Totally oblivious, I walked through the front door, kicked off my heels, showered, and flopped onto the sofa in my bathrobe to read. Liam walked out of the bedroom, poured a glass of water, and stood over me. I knew he was there, but the plot twist in my book was getting spicy, so I ignored him. When I didn’t acknowledge him, he reached out and flicked my bangs. “Are you reading that novel again?” The comments section flooded the screen so fast you couldn’t see the video. “If I were Liam, working hard all day, I’d be pissed if my girlfriend ignored me.” “Does she not know who pays the bills? Show some respect to the sugar daddy.” “Her free ride is over. Just watch, he’s going to dump her live.” Everyone expected me to apologize or grovel. After all, I was the “lucky” one, right? Without looking up, I shoved him. “Move. You’re blocking my light.” Liam frowned. His bottom lip jutted out slightly. “Is my Chlo-Chlo sick of me already?” … The chat room went dead silent. Lily felt dizzy. She rubbed her eyes. What the hell? Did I just see my stoic, ice-cold brother… pout? Gross. 3 I sensed the dip in his mood immediately. I looked up. His face was inches from mine. I could see myself in his amber eyes. I tried to push his chest, but he was like a brick wall. And he was running hot. I knew the signs. Liam was having one of his “episodes.” Since we started dating, he couldn’t handle being ignored. If I zoned out, he would do this—stare at me like a statue until I paid attention. He puts on a good show for the public. The perfect gentleman. The unshakeable star. But it’s all a mask. Underneath, he’s a needy, clingy mess. It was annoying, but easy to fix. A kiss. A hug. That’s all it took to reset him to “Cool Movie Star” mode. I sighed, put down the book, wrapped my arms around his arm, and rested my head on his shoulder. “How could I ever be sick of my handsome hubby?” Liam’s ears turned pink. He pushed me away gently and turned his head, refusing to look at me. The chat was confused. “Um… what is wrong with Liam?” “Is he… throwing a tantrum?” “This has to be scripted. Remember when Tessa tried to hug him and he dodged her? He hates clingy people.” “Poor Liam, acting is hard work.” “Okay, but why is his face so red?” 4 The internet was convinced this was some meta-acting performance. Lily wasn’t so sure. She knew her brother. He had boundaries. He wouldn’t degrade himself like this for traffic. And honestly, she couldn’t believe he agreed to the livestream in the first place. “Is that a body double?” Liam’s dad asked, bewildered. Liam had always been mature beyond his years. Seeing him blush and flirt was breaking their brains. “I can’t watch this,” a commenter wrote. “It makes me sick seeing a homewrecker this happy.” “Justice for Tessa! Chloe isn’t fit to tie her shoes!” 5 Liam was still being awkward. I knew he’d get over it, so I went back to my book. But he wouldn’t let me be. He tugged my sleeve. He poked my cheek. I swatted his hand away. He did it again. Finally, I snapped. I grabbed a pillow and stood up. “Where are you going?” he asked, panic in his voice. “Somewhere else. You’re being annoying.” “I’m annoying?” He looked devastated. I didn’t answer. I marched toward the bedroom. “Wait… Liam is actually a clingy boyfriend?” “Why does it feel like he loves her way more than she loves him?” “Don’t be fooled by Chloe’s fans! She’s manipulating him!” “Okay, but their house is actually cute. I thought Liam lived in a minimalist museum.” Lily had never been to this house. The family mansion was cold and gray. But this place? Warm lighting, throw pillows, and an entire wall covered in Polaroids. The camera zoomed in. They were all photos of Liam and Chloe. In every single one, Liam was smiling like an idiot. Lily felt a weird pang in her chest. She had never seen her brother look that happy.

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The heroine failed to save the hero. Again. I opened my eyes, and once again, I was back in senior year of high school. As a background NPC, my resentment was strong enough to fuel a rocket. I stormed past the male lead and slapped him across the face. “Why do you look like you want to die all day long? In the future, you’ll have money, power, and a beautiful wife who loves you! What is there to be depressed about?!” “I have taken the SATs ninety-nine times! Every single time I finally get promoted from a minimum-wage intern to a decent salary, you drag me back to high school! Do you know how tragic my life is?!” The boy in the blue and white uniform stared at me, his eyes dark and shadowed with menace. At that exact moment, a floating comment barrage screamed across my vision: [WE ARE DOOMED! You didn’t slap the hero! That’s the vengeful, psychopathic Villain!] 1 I’m back in senior year. Again. Staring at the familiar classroom and my classmates, I felt nothing but the urge to lay down and rot. The stacks of textbooks and open workbooks on my desk made my vision go black. Does anyone understand the pain of infinitely repeating your senior year? The worst part is, my brain resets every time. I never remember the answers to the tests I’ve taken a hundred times. This means my rebirth is nothing but the pure, unadulterated torture of finals week, on repeat. Even more tragic? The reset always happens right when I grind my way from a $2,000 monthly salary to a comfortable $5,000. I haven’t even seen a five-figure paycheck yet, and poof. Instant death. Because the main character doesn’t want to live anymore. The whole world gets buried with him. And I’m just one of the unlucky collateral damages. 2 After many resets, I gained self-awareness. I realized I am a “Mob Character” or “Passerby A” in a redemption novel. No name, no lines, just a background texture. The world I live in is a book. Because the heroine keeps failing to “save” the hero, he dies. So the world reboots. Rumor has it the hero is mentally unstable. I just want to say, if you’re sick, go to a hospital! The heroine isn’t a therapist! And why does his death have to involve me, a hardworking corporate slave? The protagonists get rich without me. But when they die, they drag me to hell with them. I’m basically being pranked by Fate. “Monthly test results come out tomorrow. Ugh, so annoying.” “I bet Sawyer is going to be first place again.” “Jenna? You look pale. Are you okay?” My desk mate looked at me with concern. The name Sawyer twitched a nerve in my numb brain. I shot up from my seat. Under my desk mate’s shocked gaze, fueled by the rage of a hundred senior years, I marched to the classroom next door. In the last row by the door, a boy was sleeping face down on his desk. The girl next to him looked at me—radiating pure fury—and asked cautiously, “Classmate… can I help you?” I scanned her face. It was the heroine, Lana. The book said she sits next to the hero, Sawyer. Staring at the back of the “hero’s” perfect skull, my hands itched. I wanted to crush him. Seeing me staring death daggers at him, Lana hesitated, then nudged the sleeping boy. He lifted his head from his arms, looking annoyed at Lana for disturbing him. Lana pointed at me standing in the doorway and whispered, “Someone’s looking for you.” The boy in the uniform slowly turned around. Driven by pure resentment, my hand moved faster than my brain. Smack! I slapped him right across the face. Then I exploded. “Sleep? How can you sleep?! Do you have no shame?!” “Because of you, I have to relive this hellish senior year over and over! I have anxiety! I have insomnia!” “I’ve taken the SATs ninety-nine times! Every time I finally get a raise, you drag me back here!” “Why do I have to suffer because you want to die?” “Don’t look at me like that! If you’re sick, go to therapy!” “If you don’t want to live the good life, I’ll slap you until you wake up!” “You look like a corpse all day long! In the future, you have money, power, and a hot wife who loves you! Why would you want to die?!” Lana’s jaw dropped to the floor. The boy I just slapped had a face that defied gravity. Sharp brows, starry eyes, a small beauty mark on a high nose bridge. Noble and cold. Except now, there was a glaring red handprint on that pale, handsome face. He stared at me, his expression dark and shadowy. His eyes were ferocious. Suddenly, strange text floated in front of my eyes: [OMG! Girl, you hit the wrong person! That’s Julian! The vindictive, world-destroying Villain!] [It’s over! You won’t see tomorrow’s sun!] [Such heavy resentment. Senior year + Corporate Slave = Maximum Bug. I’d want to kill someone too.] [But that’s not the hero! That’s the villain, Julian!] My heart stopped. Julian. The “Beautiful, Strong, and Miserable” villain. Wealthy family. Insanely handsome. But his parents were two psychos forced into a business marriage who hated each other. They viewed Julian, the product of their hatred, with disgust. They tortured him growing up. In the book, Julian is a sociopath. He lacks empathy and craves destruction. Later, he gets involved in organized crime. He is ruthless. As an NPC, I only knew the names. I never had screen time with them. I didn’t know what they looked like, except for Lana, who becomes a celebrity later. Facing Julian’s terrifying gaze, I took a step back. His voice was colder than liquid nitrogen. “You dare hit me? Do you want to die?” When others say this, they’re posing. When Julian says it, he’s making a schedule. What do I do? What do I do? My brain spun like a hamster wheel on fire. The floating comments seemed to hear my inner scream and offered a solution: [The villain is scary, but he’s a pure-hearted simp for love!] [Baby, tell him you’re his future wife! He’ll spare you!] [Yes, yes! It explains why you were scolding him about the future!] Suppressing my terror, I stood my ground and shouted, “So what if I hit you! I’m your future wife!” “In the future, you beg me to hit you!” Julian sneered, the corner of his lip curling up. “Are you crazy? My wife? You?” “Do you think I’m an idiot?” [Quick! Tell him a secret! The villain has a scar on his inner thigh, he’s allergic to shrimp, loves drinking Yakult, and sleeps completely naked!] Bless you, comment section angels. I composed myself and said calmly, “You have a scar on your inner thigh.” Julian’s pupils shrank. The murderous aura vanished, replaced by shock. I continued, “You’re allergic to shrimp. You secretly love drinking Yakult.” I added some flavor: “And after we get married, you never wear clothes when you sleep with me. Pants…” Julian shot up from his chair. He clamped his hand over my mouth. His eyes flickered with uncertainty as he scrutinized me. I pulled his hand down. “And when you shower, you like to start by taking off…” He covered my mouth again. I noticed his ears were red. He gritted his teeth. “Shut up!” I went quiet. His long, beautiful eyes were filled with a mix of shame and anger. His lips were pressed into a thin line. The red finger marks on his face gave him a sort of tragic beauty. Faced with the villain’s breathtaking face this close up, I was stunned for three seconds. My eyes went wide and sparkly. Julian seemed uncomfortable under my gaze. Suppressing his irritation, he used his other hand to cover my eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.” “Only a fool would believe that ‘future wife’ nonsense.” “But… considering you claim to be my wife, I’ll let the slap slide. But I’m warning you: stay away from the current me.” Me: … Do you really not believe it? You might want to listen to your own heartbeat right now. 3 Julian warned me to stay away. So I did. I avoided him for a week. During that week, I found the real hero, Sawyer. Unlike what I imagined, Sawyer looked gentle and upright, though his brows were always knit with melancholy. I observed him for days. He seemed normal. Not like a mental patient. I was worried. I had no idea how to stop his suicidal tendencies. I really, really didn’t want to do senior year again. Sitting on the bleachers, I stared at Sawyer on the basketball court with deep resentment. To onlookers, my gaze probably looked… obsessed. Julian, wearing a basketball jersey, watched me from a distance. His face was cold. After shooting a few three-pointers, he tossed the ball to someone else and walked straight toward me. His tall shadow blocked my view. I looked up. I was mesmerized by his handsomeness for three seconds before I slowly asked, “What?” The storm clouds on Julian’s face cleared slightly during those three seconds of my admiration. He crouched down, his tone unkind. “Why are you looking at Sawyer?” I answered instinctively, “Why can’t I look?” Julian narrowed his eyes. It made my scalp tingle. He lowered his voice. “You were lying, weren’t you?” My heart skipped a beat. “I’ve never seen you before. You aren’t my type.” “It’s impossible that I liked you first. That means you must have chased me until I gave in.” “But you haven’t made a single move on me. You don’t look like someone in love.” “Also, that day you came to find me, my back was to you. The seat I was in used to be Sawyer’s. You’ve been staring at Sawyer for days. So… you were looking for Sawyer that day, weren’t you?” Julian’s analysis made my skin crawl. Why is he suddenly Sherlock Holmes?! Right. He’s the villain. High IQ is part of the package. Julian stared into my eyes, not missing a single micro-expression. Help me! Comment section fam! [It’s here! Don’t panic, baby!] [The villain has a kissing kink! He likes to trace the roof of your mouth with his tongue when he’s done!] [Yes! And he demands kisses every day. He’s a kissing monster.] [Bedroom, kitchen, bar counter, floor-to-ceiling window… he begs you for *** (censored) in every corner.] Hm? Something seems off about this advice? But my nerves were frayed. I didn’t have time to think. I blurted it out. “You have a habit when we kiss. At the end, you like to lick the roof of my mouth.” After saying it, the heat rushed to my face. I turned beet red. Julian looked slightly stunned. Then he recovered and scoffed. “You can really make things up.” His expression changed, as if recalling something disgusting. His eyes went pitch black. “Do you know that I find kissing to be the most repulsive human act?” My survival instincts kicked in. I went all in. “That’s because you haven’t kissed me yet.” “I don’t believe you. Let’s kiss then.” Ripples of emotion stirred in Julian’s eyes. His gaze dropped to my lips. On the surface, I looked calm. Inside, I was screaming. What if he actually does it? Do I dodge? If I dodge, I’m exposed. If I don’t… I lose my first kiss AND get exposed if he hates it. I hoped Julian would back off. But he just leaned in, inch by inch. My body went rigid. My brain flatlined. Thump. Thump. Thump. In my vision, Julian tilted his head. I could feel his breath on the bridge of my nose. Just centimeters away. My hand twitched. “Hah. Keep dreaming.” Julian pulled back abruptly, laughing at my flushed red face. “You thought I’d fall for that?” “Is this how you hooked the future me? I admit, you have some tricks.” My tense nerves snapped loose. I was confused. How did I hook him? Tricks? I frowned, thinking. To Julian, my confusion looked like disappointment from a failed scheme. He stood up, looking down at me arrogantly. “Tsk. You like me that much?” “I have a game this weekend. Come bring me water.” 4 My beautiful weekend was hijacked just like that. I wanted to refuse, but I had to maintain my character. After lunch, I waited until the hottest part of the day passed before lazily biking to the gym. Surprisingly, it was packed. I spotted Lana, the heroine, in the front row. To figure out why her redemption arc kept failing, I decided to befriend her. I sat in the empty seat next to her and introduced myself. She paused, then smiled back. “Are you here to cheer for Julian?” I recognized the gleam in her eyes. It was the universal look of someone ready for gossip. I nodded. If the heroine is here, the hero must be too. Sure enough, I saw Sawyer in a white jersey. And Julian, wearing a black sports headband, looking fierce. He glared at me. [OMG, Julian has been waiting for our girl! He keeps looking at the stands.] [He says ‘stay away,’ but gets mad when you actually do. Tsk tsk, what a tsundere puppy.] [By the way, this game is where the villain and hero start their feud. It plants the seed of hatred.] [The heroine’s redemption fails because of the villain.] I remembered now. In the plot, Sawyer wins this game. Julian loses, and in the post-game brawl, Sawyer accidentally breaks Julian’s hand. Julian, being petty and vengeful, loses face and gets injured. He hates Sawyer forever and sabotages him in the future. The first revenge is causing Sawyer to miss the SATs. Terrifying. But why did the comments say the redemption failed because of Julian? Can you guys be more specific?! Stopping halfway is torture!

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I was the dog bought by Young Master Sterling, the wildest one. He tormented me daily with endless enthusiasm. His wealthy, hedonistic friends loved to join in, treating me like their personal toy. One day, this mad dog bit down on Sterling’s lifeline. I smiled at the stunned crowd. “If you want him to live, tell Senator Vance to come see me personally.” They say Senator Vance is benevolent, a saint who loves the world, a moon in the sky too pure to be touched. I want to ask him, why has this world—specifically me, tortured by his nephew until life was worse than death—never received his mercy? Is he blind? Then I’ll drag him down from his pedestal and gouge his eyes out. 1 On my first day in this world, my gambler father sold me to a high-end brothel. For five grand, he skipped away with a grin. On my first night, I was bought for a high price by Sterling Vance. Why? Because I look exactly like his “white moonlight,” his lost love, Claire. Originally, I was supposed to be a warm body in his bed. But I was born with a rebellious streak; I couldn’t bend my knee. I told Sterling, “If you touch me, you’re just a dirty cucumber. How could a filthy, shameless man like you ever deserve someone as pure as her?” Sterling lost it. “You? A cheap whore? You think I’d actually want you?” He didn’t touch me. Instead, he treated me like a dog. He told his rich buddies he bought a new pet for everyone to play with. He locked me in a cage, made me bark for their amusement. If I didn’t perform well, I didn’t eat. I stayed locked inside, teeth clenched, refusing to make a sound. They dangled meat bones in front of me, cooing, “Bark once, and you get a treat.” I closed my eyes and stayed silent. Sterling and his friends bet on how long I would last. His friend Tyler bet I’d break in two days. Another rich kid, Xavier, bet one day. Xavier brought a cage of snakes and held it to my face. “Scared? Just say you’re scared, call me ‘Big Brother,’ and beg for mercy. I’ll let you out.” Sterling laughed lazily from the side, but his eyes held a threatening glint. He had bet on three days. I looked at the hissing snakes and closed my eyes. Xavier raised an eyebrow, opened the cage, and let the snakes slither into mine. My body went rigid, my scalp tingled, and I couldn’t stop trembling. A snake crawled up my arm, cold and slimy. I looked at Sterling. A flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. I closed my eyes again until a sharp, numbing pain hit me. I was bitten. “Enough, Xavier!” The cage opened, and Xavier’s servants took the snakes back. “Got a backbone, huh? Interesting.” “What? Is Sterling feeling sorry for his pet?” Before I blacked out, I heard Sterling’s cold voice: “Get out with your disgusting snakes.” This was only the first day. I had to last three. 2 When I woke up, my arm was bandaged. My head spun. I was still in the cage. My hands were free, but my ankles were chained. Sterling sat opposite me, sipping tea. “You thought I’d let you out? Puppies stay where they belong.” He smiled cruelly. Servants brought in food. Sterling ate meat and drank wine in front of me, dragging the meal out painfully. A bitter taste lingered in my mouth—they had force-fed me medicine while I was out. So I wouldn’t die just yet. I closed my eyes and slept. Soon, Tyler and Xavier returned. Day two. Tyler brought a large dog. Sterling glanced at it but said nothing, implying: As long as you don’t go too far. Xavier, the worst of the lot, looked at the dog, then at me. “Since they’re both dogs, and Tyler’s is male… why don’t we let them breed?” Tyler spat out his tea, eyeing me with disgusting intent. “Blackie loves riding dogs. He hasn’t ridden a human one yet.” They laughed until Xavier was in tears. Friends of Sterling were all trash. Sterling, the hypocrite, tried to hold back but eventually chuckled. A wave of nausea hit me. I didn’t regret rejecting him. “Take your damn dog and get out,” Sterling finally said. “See? told you Sterling treasures her!” Xavier jeered. Sterling glared at him. Tyler whispered something in Sterling’s ear. They muttered, eyes fixed on me, grinning maliciously. Then, another dog was brought in. A female. They put both dogs into my cage. The male dog immediately mounted the female. The cage was cramped; the dogs bumped against me repeatedly. I shrank back in disgust. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my chin, forcing my face toward the scene. “Watch closely.” Sterling’s grip tightened. I was forced to witness it while Sterling watched me with amusement. Pervert. I couldn’t hold it back. I vomited all over Sterling’s hand. Seeing his face turn green, I laughed. 3 After vomiting, Sterling threw me into “the dark room.” Still in the cage. Pitch black. Leaning against the bars, I recalled the plot that had appeared in my brain when I arrived. The original owner of this body was named Rain. Born during a rainstorm. I am also named Rain. This is a melodramatic novel. Rain is the heroine. Her gambler dad sells her; Sterling, the hero, buys her. Sterling’s true love, Claire, just married a prince. Heartbroken, Sterling sees Rain and thinks she’s Claire. He buys her, forces himself on her. He treats her as a substitute, abuses her body and heart. Through all the humiliation, Rain falls in love with him, suffers miscarriages, and eventually leaves. Only then does Sterling realize he loves her. He chases her, more angst ensues, and they live happily ever after. Sterling, despite being trash, rises to high office. Why? Because he has an incredible uncle: Senator Vance. Vance is a legend. Honorable, unmatched, practically a saint. He is Sterling’s fear and idol. Vance is only nine years older than Sterling; he’s more like a father. Vance became a top scholar at sixteen, bringing glory to their humble family. At twenty-four, he helped the current President get elected. Now, at twenty-seven, he is the youngest Secretary of State in history, unmarried, and beloved by the people. But in less than two years, he dies of illness. Overworked and stressed from cleaning up the country’s messes, he falls ill during a mission and never recovers. The President, grieving, projects his love for Vance onto Sterling, paving the way for the nephew’s success. Damn plot armor. But the plot glitched. The original Rain died from a beating at the brothel. I took over. I refuse to play out this sadistic romance. I’d rather die. But this dark room… it’s torture. I don’t know if I’ll go mad or die first. 4 I don’t know how long passed before a bucket of cold water woke me up. Light flooded in. It took a long time to focus on Sterling’s disgusting, handsome face. He dragged me out. I felt dizzy and nauseous. “Vomit on me again, and I’ll chop you up for dog food!” he snarled. I didn’t even have the strength to open my eyes. Vaguely, I felt someone supporting me. A delicious smell filled my nose. Someone was spoon-feeding me meat porridge. It smelled so good… I ate and slowly came back to life. Then I saw Sterling holding the bowl. Ugh. He put the bowl down, surprisingly silent, and left. Once he was gone, I couldn’t hold back. I devoured the rest of the porridge. This was my first real meal since arriving. Sterling had starved me, then fed me medicine. It was dawn on the third day. Sterling bet I would break on the third day. If I hadn’t tasted food, maybe I could have held on. But now, having felt the warmth of a full stomach… my resolve crumbled. I couldn’t hold on anymore. After I finished the bowl, I heard a scoff. Sterling walked back in, dragged me up, and threw me back in the cage. Outside, I heard Tyler and Xavier. They were here to see the result of the bet.

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I am the daughter of the classic, universally adored, “Mary Sue” protagonist. But me? I’m just the side character. However, I grew up inheriting that same irresistible “Main Character Energy.” The ice-cold school heartthrob glares resentfully while putting on my shoes, yet the tips of his ears burn crimson. The rebellious bad boy squats pitifully before me, feeding me boba tea, his eyes hiding a deep obsession. The proud, stoic valedictorian begrudgingly massages my shoulders and legs, his face cold, yet his hands refuse to leave my skin. In the eyes of the original novel’s heroine, these boys are being coerced. She wants to save them. I just sit back, relax, and loosen the leash. I’d like to see if they run to their “savior” or if they happily slip the collar right back on. 1 “Luna Sterling, you’ve gone too far!” I propped my chin on my hand, lazily watching the girl in front of me launch her accusations. Ah, the heroine has arrived. Right on schedule. It’s a pity I’m neither cannon fodder nor the villainess. I’m the universally adored side character. My mom was the legendary Mary Sue of the last generation’s romance novel. I inherited her halo. But technically, I’m still a supporting role. Which is annoying, but fine. Because the plot glitched in my favor, letting me awaken early. And this girl in front of me? She’s the “original” heroine, Emma Snow. “We’re all classmates! How can you bully Julian and the others like this?” Emma pointed a righteous finger at me, her eyes filled with pity as she looked at the three stunning guys surrounding me. I stayed silent, amused, and glanced at my entourage. Julian Frost, the icy heartthrob, looking resentful as he buckled my sandal. Wyatt Stone, the wild bad boy, squatting with a constipated expression as he held my straw to my lips. Caleb Rivers, the disciplined scholar, massaging my calves with a face like he was doing calculus. Emma’s indignation was practically spilling over. I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. As expected of a Mary Sue Saintess heroine. So full of pity. But only for the male leads. Because yes, the three guys waiting on me hand and foot are the male leads of her story. But from where I’m sitting, I’m not bullying anyone. Julian’s ears are blazing red. Wyatt’s “resentful” glare is actually just obsessed puppy eyes. And Caleb’s hands? They’re stuck to me like glue. I’ve dealt with this kind of attention since kindergarten. It’s just another Tuesday. I stepped on Julian’s knee to adjust my shoe, took a sip of Wyatt’s tea, and shook off Caleb’s hands. Crossing my arms, I looked down at Emma. “Let’s make a bet.” “What bet?” Emma asked, her jaw set with determination. I examined my fresh manicure. “Let’s bet on whether or not they’re being bullied willingly.” “If you can convince them to stay away from me, you win.” “If I lose, I’ll stop ‘bullying’ them forever.” I emphasized the word “bullying.” Because I don’t see it that way. I see it as rewarding my loyal dogs. I’m not blind. I know these guys secretly love it. Suddenly, a rhinestone popped off my nail. I frowned at my hand, annoyed. “You three. Don’t come looking for me for a while.” One of them must have knocked it loose. Clumsy. I turned and walked away. Emma let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and rushed to the boys. “Are you guys okay?” Nobody paid her any attention. The three guys looked miserable. Julian’s handsome face darkened. “Mind your own business.” Wyatt sneered, his sharp features twisting in annoyance. “Who asked you to save me?” Caleb’s expression was frosty. “You’re annoying.” They all walked off in different directions. Emma stood frozen. She couldn’t understand why the boys she just “saved” were suddenly so prickly. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 2 I returned to my family’s massive villa for hugs and kisses from Mom. In my room, sitting on my pink princess bed, I binged some trashy romance dramas. My young butler knelt by the bed, peeling grapes for me. His gaze was intense, burning with obsession. I was used to it. The “Main Character Halo” meant everyone loved me. I’ve had countless admirers since I was a kid. The butler was just one of many. If he wasn’t so handsome, I wouldn’t even let him in here. “Miss Luna, your juice.” I took a sip and frowned. “It’s warm. Gross.” This specific juice tastes awful if it isn’t ice-cold. The butler took the glass, lowered his head, and sipped from the exact spot my lips had touched. “I’ll make you a fresh one, Miss.” I flared up instantly. “Who said you could drink from my glass?!” “I apologize, Miss. I… couldn’t resist.” He lowered his head, his neck flushing red, his voice strained with repressed desire. “You held it in before, you can hold it in now.” “Even if you’re about to explode, hold it.” I warned him mercilessly. Then I waved my hand in dismissal. “Get out. And throw that cup away.” “Yes, Miss.” He retreated, eyes lowered. I knew he wouldn’t throw the cup away. Anything I discard, he secretly hoards. Total freak. Mom was right. Men are dangerous because they’re always throwing themselves at you. I trust Mom implicitly. She was the heroine of the last book, after all. I inherited her charm, but unfortunately, I’m trapped in a side character role. The butler is loyal and hot, so I let his creepiness slide. “Wait.” I stopped him at the door. “Miss?” He turned, attentive. “When Caleb gets home, send him to my room.” “Miss?!” The butler looked shocked. “Did you hear me?” My voice was crisp, my face innocent but impatient. “Understood.” The butler gripped the tray so hard his knuckles turned white, jealousy twisting his features. I ignored him and went back to my drama. Know thy enemy, win the battle. 3 That night, there was a knock at my door. “Come in.” Through the sheer curtains of my canopy bed, I saw Caleb enter. He stood tall, cold, and distant, acting like the perfect gentleman. I rolled my eyes. Gentleman? This morning his hands were wandering all over my legs. Hypocrite. But I wanted to test the plot. Does the “original script” force the three male leads to fall for the heroine and abandon me? Not that I care about being abandoned. The Sterling family runs this city. The original novel said that after the boys fell for Emma, “Luna fled the country in shame.” Hilarious. I, Luna Sterling, could fail anywhere, but never in this city. “Caleb.” I called out from behind the veil. He finally moved, his voice raspy. “Why did you call me?” “Come here.” I pulled back the curtain, extending a pale wrist. Caleb froze. He walked over hesitantly. When he saw me, his pupils dilated. The tips of his ears turned pink, and he looked away. “Luna, put some clothes on…” “Help me.” I turned around, exposing the zipper on the back of my black mini-dress. He didn’t move for a long time. Just when I was about to get annoyed, hot fingers brushed my skin. The sound of the zipper sliding down was deafening in the quiet room. “Done.” His cool voice was thick with something else. I chuckled and turned to face him. “Kneel.” I commanded. I hate looking up at him. I’m the only one allowed to look down. Caleb’s face remained impassive as he obediently dropped to one knee. “Say it. What are you to me?” I rested my chin on my hand, watching him. “I am… your servant.” He closed his eyes as he said it, his neck flushing a humiliating shade of pink. “Good. Remember that, Caleb. You are Luna Sterling’s servant.” Like any standard Mary Sue male lead, Caleb has a backstory that requires saving. At least, that’s what Emma thinks. I think I treat him great. His mom is our housekeeper, so we grew up together. He’s my little servant. Of the three boys, Julian is a high school friend, but Wyatt and Caleb are my childhood friends. They’ve always obeyed me. Because I’m me. I thought our dynamic was perfect. But Emma thinks I’m a bully. So, I’ll show her what bullying really looks like. If I can’t avoid the plot, I’ll ride it. I want to see if these three really have it in them to fall for her. “You heard about the bet with Emma, right?” I twirled my hair idly. Caleb’s voice was low, his face shadowed. “Yes. I heard.” “Then watch yourself. If I lose…” I narrowed my eyes threateningly. “I’ll make you pay.” “I won’t let you lose…” He mumbled it so quietly I almost missed it. I saw beads of sweat on his forehead. He looked like he was overheating. “Is my room too hot? You’re sweating.” Caleb opened his mouth to explain, but his face turned beet red. He shifted his kneeling leg slightly. Silence. I waved my hand, disgusted. “Leave. Don’t sweat in my room.” Caleb let out a breath and practically fled. Outside, he leaned against the wall, gasping for air. He looked down at his white shirt, soaked through with sweat. His phone buzzed. Group Chat: [The Princess’s Dogs] Julian: [Is she mad?] Caleb: [Yeah. Just left her room. She’s annoyed.] Wyatt: [It’s all that meddling Emma’s fault! Tomorrow, I’m putting on her shoes. Don’t fight me on this.] Julian: [You wish.] Caleb: […Scram.] 4 I spent the weekend at home gaming and binging dramas. I didn’t message any of them. Today was a key “bonding event” in the original plot for Emma and the boys. I wasn’t going to interfere. I loosened the leash. Whether they run or stay is up to them. A well-trained dog doesn’t run. But hey, maybe they’re wolves in disguise. I won my game. The drama on TV was getting to the part where the male leads get into a fight and the heroine saves them. Suddenly, my phone rang. “Hello? Wyatt?” My face fell. He wants me to bail him out? What is the heroine doing? Sleeping on the job? I drove to the police station, fuming. All three of them were there. So was Emma. Julian, Wyatt, and Caleb were bruised and battered. I couldn’t even look at them. I signed the papers and led them out.

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