During the break between classes, my desk mate nudged me gently. “Do you have… you know? Can I borrow one?” Seeing her awkward, squirming expression, I understood immediately. Just as I was about to reach for a pad, strange bullet comments—like a livestream chat—suddenly floated across my vision: [Lily, don’t lend it to her!] [The school bully is going to snatch it. Sarah won’t admit she asked for it; she’ll tell everyone the blood on the back of your pants is yours!] [Because of this one pad, in a month, you’ll go insane, and Sarah will die.] … Despite the frantic warnings floating in the air urging me to ignore Sarah, I calmly pulled out a sanitary pad and placed it squarely in front of her. “It’s the extra-long overnight kind. Don’t worry, it’s safe.” 1 Sarah Jenkins stared at the unwrapped pad sitting openly on the desk, completely frozen. I knew why she was shocked. Zach Stone, the school’s notorious bully, often led his pack of guys to make fun of girls on their periods. It had gotten so bad that girls in our class handled menstrual products like contraband—hiding them in sleeves, stuffing them in pockets, or passing them under desks in opaque black bags like secret agents. But today, I put it right there on the table in broad daylight… As if it were a pack of tissues, not a source of deep, teenage shame. “Don’t like the long ones? I have a regular flow one, too.” 2 As I reached for the second one, Zach acted exactly as the floating comments predicted. He snatched the pad off Sarah’s desk. He tore open the packaging with exaggerated excitement, shouting, “Sarah Jenkins! You need a mattress this big? Is it a crime scene down there? No wonder your chest looks bigger this week.” “Whoa, Zach, how do you know her chest got bigger?” one of his lackeys jeered. “Sarah is Zach’s childhood neighbor, how do you think he knows? Hahaha!” The boys in the class roared with laughter. Sarah clamped her legs together tight, burying her head low. “It… it’s not mine. It’s Lily’s. She’s on her period. If you don’t believe me, look at the back of her pants…” Just as the comments warned, Sarah stabbed me in the back. I felt a pang of sadness. We’d been desk mates since seventh grade. We promised to go to the same high school. I never thought she’d do this to me. “Sarah, every girl gets a period. It’s normal…” “Lily, leave me out of it! I don’t want to talk about that stuff publicly like you. It’s humiliating.” Sarah didn’t wait for me to finish. She scooted her desk an inch away, drawing a clear line between us. [I’m so mad! Sarah has no conscience. Lily tried to help her!] [Is the system glitching? Can Lily not see us? Why did she lend it to her?!] [Lily, you’ll regret this. Zach is about to give you a nickname. Everyone’s going to call you ‘Period Girl’!] Period Girl? That’s a terrible nickname. Zero creativity. I looked away from Sarah and lifted my eyelids. Zach was dangling the open pad in front of my face with two fingers, waving it back and forth. “Stand up, Period Girl. Let everyone see how dirty your monkey butt is.” 3 “Not as dirty as your mouth.” I stood up abruptly, snatched the pad from Zach’s hand, and SLAP—I stuck the adhesive side right over his mouth. “Zach Stone, since you’re so curious about feminine products, have a taste. If that doesn’t satisfy your curiosity, meet me at the girls’ bathroom after school. I’ll stuff a used one in your mouth.” A used one… The classroom went dead silent. Veins popped on Zach’s forehead. He ripped the pad off his face, threw it on the ground, and kicked my desk over. “Lily Harper! Are you crazy? I’ll beat you to death!” He towered half a head over me, eyes bloodshot with rage. The bruising on his cheekbones and the scabs on his knuckles were trophies from his street fights. In the past, if Zach looked at me like that, I would have apologized and ran. But today, I hooked my lips into a cold smile. Under the stunned gaze of the entire class, I unwrapped the second pad I was holding and smoothly slapped it onto his forehead. “Remember, I’m not Period Girl. I’m your Period Grandma!” [Did I see that right? Lily slapped him with a pad AGAIN?] [SATISFYING!!!] [Lily, you are actually unhinged. Next time a guy jokes about periods, I’m doing this!] [Period Grandma, I’m dying! Lily, you’re brave!] [Don’t celebrate too early. Zach isn’t someone to mess with. Don’t forget the ending for Lily and Sarah.] The chat cheered for a moment before turning dark again. They said that in a month, Sarah would die, I would go insane, and most of the students and teachers of 10th Grade Homeroom 3 would live in the shadow of this event forever. And it all started with this one sanitary pad. 4 Truth be told, I used to be just like Sarah. I hated my period. I hated how it embarrassed me. When I first got it in sixth grade, I thought I had a terminal illness. In middle school, the cramps made me shake. P.E. class was torture, but I was too ashamed to ask for a pass. In high school, the cramps were manageable, but the stress made my cycle irregular. Getting it during class, during exams, leaking onto the chair… I’d been through every nightmare scenario. Add to that Zach’s gang of boys. They loved bullying girls on their cycles. They’d pinch their noses and say we smelled weird, or shout “Monkey Butt” if someone leaked. My period became my monthly horror show. I had to be terrified, cautious, hiding it like I was smuggling drugs, just so Zach wouldn’t notice. Zach wasn’t like the other boys who were clueless about anatomy. He seemed to have studied menstruation. He could spot a girl with cramps. He judged who was due based on physical changes. If someone was late, he’d start rumors: “She missed a month? She’s definitely pregnant.” In reality, stress can make you miss two months easily. But Zach didn’t care. It was like he had a vendetta against every girl, nailing us to the cross of shame to satisfy his sick amusement. But is menstruation wrong? It’s a normal physiological function! Are we wrong? We’re just normal teenage girls! Everyone knew what Zach was doing was wrong. But 10th-grade girls are sensitive, and physically weaker. Most chose silence. Some told parents or teachers. But our homeroom teacher, Mr. Miller, was an old-school academic who only cared about grades. He’d talk to Zach, and nothing would change. Calling parents didn’t work either. Zach’s dad was even more unreasonable than Zach. I heard his dad once yelled at Mr. Miller, calling menstruation “filthy, unlucky, and disgusting.” He even scolded parents in the group chat for letting their daughters take sick leave for cramps: “There are men in this group! Just say she’s sick. Why do you have to force us to know about her cycle?”

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As graduation approached, the rich heiress in my dorm room cried about how much she’d miss me. I joked, “If you’re that capable, why don’t you just marry me?” She nodded solemnly, lunging forward as if to kiss me. “Okay, wifey. I’ll marry you.” I dodged quickly. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re both girls.” She didn’t say a word. That night, I heard her on the phone: “Bro, do me a favor.” “Help me marry a wife.” 1 Second semester of senior year. Finishing my thesis defense felt like being released from prison. I partied hard. Late nights, endless hangouts. And then I partied a little too hard and got into trouble. Riding my electric scooter home at midnight, I forgot about my night blindness. One wrong turn and—crunch—I slammed straight into a pitch-black luxury car. The cop shook his head while writing the report. “Look at you. You dodged all the beat-up sedans just to pick the most expensive car on the block to hit.” The car was brand new. No insurance yet. I was fully liable. The owner didn’t say much. He just kept emailing me the repair bills. Those strings of numbers made me dizzy. I felt that specific kind of helplessness where you want to die but can’t afford a grave. I hadn’t officially graduated yet, so I didn’t have a real job. But I needed to pay him back fast. During my gap period, I looked for any gig I could find. My mom called to say the cherry harvest was huge this year. She asked if I wanted to come pick cherries for a hundred bucks a day. Heck yes. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I could pick a cherry orchard bare with my bare hands right now. I immediately bought a ticket home for that night. I wanted to tell Chloe. But she was still out traveling. So, on the way to the station, I sent her a voice message: “Chloe, I’m heading home first…” Screech. Before I could finish, the Uber driver slammed on the brakes. I lurched forward, my finger slipped, and the voice message sent. Chloe didn’t reply immediately. When I got to the station, she voice-called me. Her voice was eerily calm. “Jo, you left something very important behind.” I thought hard. “What? I’m pretty sure I packed everything.” Her voice suddenly turned frantic. “It’s extremely important! Come back right now!” I was confused. I was so broke I had even packed the toothpaste tube I had to roll up to squeeze. How could I leave anything important? “I really didn’t leave anything important at school,” I replied. “I say you did, so you did! You did, you did, you did! Come back!” Chloe’s family is loaded. She’s the typical pampered heiress. Usually a bit willful and spoiled. When she gets anxious, she throws a tantrum. But she’s never unreasonable. Plus, she’s sweet and smells nice. Once you get used to it, it’s actually kind of cute. Before I could say anything else, she hung up. I ignored her and got ready to scan my ID to enter the station. The next second, my phone chimed with the beautiful sound of a deposit. A transfer of $50,000. From Chloe. See? She really is cute. The note on the transfer was simple and brutal: “Take the money. Refund the ticket. Come back.” Okay then. I remembered. I remembered everything. I definitely left something very important behind. 2 I obediently returned to the apartment I shared with Chloe off-campus. The moment I walked in, she rushed over and hugged me. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. “Jo, you can’t leave!” I didn’t have time for her melodrama. I needed to go earn my hundred bucks. I finally peeled her off me. “What important thing did I leave behind?” Chloe’s eyes darted away for a second, then she put on her usual haughty expression. Hands on her hips, head tilted, she pointed at herself with righteous confidence. “Me.” Me: “…” “Hey, why aren’t you saying anything? Am I not important to you?” “I gave you the best four years of my youth living with you. How many four years do we get in life?” “Jo, say something! What am I to you?!” Excuse me? Princess, why do you sound like I’m a scumbag ex-boyfriend who abandoned you? Sometimes I really want to call the police. But I took her fifty grand, so I could only force a smile. “Of course… you are the most important thing in my heart.” I almost ground my molars to dust. Chloe kept rambling. “I came back and didn’t see you. You scared me to death! Jo, how could you be so cruel? Leaving me all alone!” “Four years together, morning and night, and you just leave after graduation? I don’t agree!” I raised my hand to rub my temple, but Chloe shoved her head under my hand. She wanted me to pet her. Resigned, I gently stroked her silky hair. I felt bad, but I had to say it. “But Chloe, we have to part ways eventually.” “Even though that day is coming soon, I’m just graduating and going home. I’m not dying.” “If you want to see me, I can come visit, or you can come find me.” Chloe is a local here in the city. I’m not. I don’t have the means to stay and build a career here. If we hadn’t gotten into the same college, I probably never would have met someone like her. Becoming friends with Chloe was purely accidental. Freshman year, four years ago. I didn’t get along with my roommates. I was ostracized. My request to switch dorms was denied. I wanted to move out. But our campus is in the city center. Rent is astronomical. A student like me couldn’t afford it. Screw this school. I quietly climbed up to the campus roof. No hidden agenda, I just wanted to invite the school board to enjoy the breeze with me. I sat there for ages, and no one noticed me. I was bored out of my mind. So I started scrolling on my phone. That’s when I saw Chloe’s post on the campus confession wall looking for a roommate. Her parents bought her the apartment, but it was too big. She was lonely and a little scared living alone. She wanted someone to keep her company. Rent-free. My eyes lit up. I DM’d her immediately. I thought the competition would be fierce, so I padded my resume with enough fluff to fill a pillow. Turns out, Chloe had either offended someone or was just the victim of rumors. There was a thread on the campus forum with over a thousand comments about her bad temper and princess syndrome. She never defended herself. So I was overthinking it. No one was fighting me for the spot. I ran down from the roof and sprinted to the interview. When we met, she asked me to cook a meal to test my skills. I actually couldn’t cook. Plus, I was nervous. After tinkering for ages, I produced a plate of egg fried rice that was half mush, half burnt. I can’t imagine how bad it tasted. But Chloe ate it all without a word, eyes teary. I’ve seen likable heiresses, but never a people-pleaser like this… At first, I was anxious living with her, afraid she wouldn’t like me either. But I discovered Chloe was actually really sweet. When she posted a nine-photo grid of expensive gourmet meals on Instagram, she’d put my fried rice right in the center. She’d hang the ragdoll I hand-sewed on her designer handbag worth thousands. She’d send me money or gifts for the tiniest reasons—like if I just smiled at her. … I wondered countless times, who said she had a bad temper??? She’s literally an angel! Honestly, I was going to miss her too. But I knew that after graduation, even if we met up, it wouldn’t be the same. 3 Chloe shook her head violently. “Who says we have to separate after graduation? I don’t agree!” “If you leave, who’s going to make me fried rice, sew dolls, peel crawfish, and cut watermelon? Waaah, I don’t want you to go.” “Your housekeeper can do those things.” “It’s not the same! You’re my bestie. My bestie doing it makes it special!” “She must genuinely like me to do these things for me. Forget it, you don’t have a bestie as good as Jo, you wouldn’t understand.” Me: “…” I felt a pang of guilt and looked away. She treats me like a bestie. I treat her like an ATM. Chloe kept outputting, listing everything I’d done for her over the years. “Everyone else disliked me, said I had a bad temper. Only you stood by me. I know you were the one who hacked the school forum and took down that thread. You looked so cool doing it.” “When I was sick, you skipped your exam to take care of me. You prepared for that exam for so long. You said you didn’t study and didn’t want to take it, but I saw your textbook was worn out.” “When I had anorexia and weighed like ninety pounds, you didn’t know how to cook but learned just for me. You cut your fingers so many times, got oil burns all over your arms. I’m healthy now because you fed me mouthful by mouthful. Like a mom…” As she spoke, she started crying. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. The atmosphere got heavy. I couldn’t handle the sentimental vibe, so I joked to lighten the mood. “If you miss me that much, why don’t you just marry me and take me home?” Chloe stopped crying instantly. Her pouting face turned serious. She looked like she was genuinely considering it. After a moment, she sniffled and nodded solemnly. “Okay. I’ll marry you.” I know her. That expression meant she wasn’t joking. She meant it. I quickly pushed against her head as she buried it in my chest and dodged. “Hey, hey, hey! Stop! Don’t be crazy! We’re both girls! I was kidding!” I was really afraid she’d take it seriously. Recently, I heard her family was arranging a marriage for her. If her parents found out I led their daughter astray… They’d drown both of us in a vat of herbal medicine to purify us. Chloe didn’t get mad that I dodged her. She started counting on her fingers, analyzing calmly. “We’ve lived together for years. Our lifestyles and personalities mesh perfectly. We know everything about each other. We’ve met the parents. We like each other. It’s a waste not to get married.” Makes sense, but not really. I explained earnestly, “If one of us were a man, maybe it would work. But we’re both girls. Being best friends is great too.” Chloe didn’t speak. She stared at me for a long time, then gritted her teeth. “Fine. You want a man, right?” “Don’t run off. I have a plan. I won’t let you go!” I nodded, leaning back on the sofa with my hands behind my head. I didn’t think she could come up with any plan. Let her ponder life for a bit. She’ll figure it out eventually. After playing with the cat on the sofa for a while, I needed to use the bathroom. It had been a while. Chloe should be done pondering life. I walked to the bathroom. Just as I was about to knock, I heard Chloe’s voice from inside: “Bro, do me a favor.” “What is it?” Chloe had him on speaker. A deep, magnetic male voice with a lazy, just-woken-up drawl floated out. I knew Chloe had a brother doing his PhD in Germany, but I didn’t know he sounded this good. “It’s simple. Promise me first.” “Chloe, if it were simple, you wouldn’t say that. Spit it out.” “Really, really. Brother, my good brother. If you knew what I wanted you to do, you’d thank me.” “Isn’t your car broken? If you help me, I’ll lend you my car.” He scoffed on the other end. “I have more than one car. Hurry up. What do you want?” “Help me marry a wife.” … Me: ? This is her “plan”? The other end of the line fell silent too. 4 I assume her brother was shocked too. He didn’t speak for a long time. Chloe kept rambling, trying to persuade him. I tuned out. By the time she opened the bathroom door, I was still standing there like an idiot. Seeing me, Chloe guessed I had overheard. She waved her phone with a proud look. “Jo, you rejected me because I’m a girl. But I have a brother. He’s a man. Tall, handsome, smart, and has some money. You can’t reject that, right?” Me: “…” Do I dare reject that? But I felt it was wrong. Plus, her brother was overseas. Dragging someone into this from across the ocean seemed unethical. Seeing my hesitation, Chloe added, “He’s my biological brother! Same last name! I vouch for his character… Please, please? Can you stay?” My first instinct was still to refuse. He’s a PhD student, so he must be at least 28. Men over 26 are basically elderly. I just graduated. I’m 23. Women over 23 are forever 18. An age-gap romance like this would get roasted online forever. No way. Doing a PhD in Germany? He’s probably balding and mentally unstable. And he hadn’t said a word, so he definitely wasn’t into it. Thinking this, I said to Chloe, “No. Unless your brother is Hayden Lin, there’s no deal.” I froze as soon as I said the name. That’s the name of the luxury car owner I hit. I’ve been receiving his repair bills lately. Every time I open one, I see his name. Every morning I wake up owing Mr. Hayden Lin another few grand. Life is full of hope. Until it isn’t. So when Chloe mentioned the last name “Lin,” that name popped into my head instantly. Owing him hundreds of thousands at my most helpless age made him more unforgettable than a first love. I didn’t plan to explain. Chloe wouldn’t know him anyway. But knowing him or not was secondary. As long as she understood that her brother and I were impossible. “Stop!” “Who did you say? Lin what? What what what! What’s his name?!” Chloe’s voice jumped an octave, weirdly excited. Startled, I answered weakly, “Hayden… Hayden Lin.” “AAAAH Jo! How did you know my brother is Hayden Lin?!!”

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1 On my wedding day, I stood at the altar, my arm linked with Julian’s. He was the “tragic second lead” I was tasked to save after I woke up inside this novel three years ago. In those three years, I was his shadow. I sat through every therapy session with him; I stood on the balcony at 3:00 AM, watching him chain-smoke as he stared into the void. I helped him climb from rock bottom back to the top of the corporate ladder. Everyone said I was the miracle worker—the woman who finally cured his obsession with the “it-girl,” Maya. When my mission was complete, Julian begged me to stay. I chose him over going back to my old life. Just as the vows were about to begin, a man in a black trench coat stormed into the chapel. He tore off his sunglasses, revealing a face identical to Julian’s, but weathered by a decade of misery. “Stop wasting your breath trying to save me,” he rasped. His eyes bypassed me entirely, landing on Maya in the front row with a look of starving devotion. “I’ve lived the next ten years without her,” he choked out. “And I’d rather rot in hell than spend another day in a world where she isn’t mine.” The resemblance was chilling. It wasn’t just the features; it was the tiny mole under the eye, the shape of the jaw. But this man looked hollowed out. Was he Julian from ten years in the future? I had spent three years stitching Julian back together. Now, the healthy, happy version of him was standing at the altar with me, and this ghost was telling him it was all for nothing. My strength evaporated. My hand slipped from Julian’s arm. Beside me, the “young” Julian snapped. He lunged forward, grabbing the stranger by the collar. “I don’t care what kind of freak show you’re running,” Julian hissed. “Get out. If you ruin this wedding—” The older man grabbed Julian’s wrists, dragging him toward the guest pews where Maya sat. He forced Julian to look at her. “Look at her! You idiot, look at her! This is the woman you love. This is the only one you ever wanted to marry!” His voice was a jagged mess of desperation and prayer. Maya stood up, her gaze flickering between the two identical men before settling on my fiancé. “Julian…” she whispered. “Do you… do you still feel that way?” The young Julian froze as if paralyzed. His expression shifted, his eyes darkening with an intensity I hadn’t seen in years. He stared at Maya as if the rest of the room had vanished. The man between them let out a ragged sigh of relief. He could feel it—the spark in his younger self’s soul. The obsession hadn’t died; it had just been dormant. “Please,” the older man whispered to the younger one. “Don’t make me lose her again.” The young Julian stood still for a long time. Finally, he turned back toward me on the altar. “Summer… can we put the wedding on hold? Just for now?” I looked into his eyes. That one sentence flipped a switch inside me. I knew then: the wedding wasn’t on “hold.” It was over. Some people don’t want to be saved. Some people don’t deserve the effort. 2 I didn’t argue. I just watched him with a cold, detached clarity. Julian didn’t wait for my answer. He turned to the crowd of Manhattan’s elite and announced that the ceremony was postponed. The guests cleared out, whispering. I didn’t move. My eyes were fixed on the “Future Julian.” The “Young Julian” was busy ushering people out, but his eyes kept drifting back to Maya. The love in his gaze was suffocating—a tidal wave ready to drown her. I hadn’t seen him look at anyone like that since the day I first met him, back when he was ready to jump off a bridge for her. I looked down at my white dress and laughed silently. Three years of my life, gone like smoke. Julian eventually walked back to me. He looked exhausted. “Summer, I’ll have my driver take you home.” He paused. “Once I figure this out, I’ll come talk to you. I promise, I’ll make this right.” “I can get myself home,” I said, glancing at the bizarre trio: Young Julian, Maya, and the Ghost of Julian Future. This was their twisted drama now. I was officially an extra. I gathered my train and walked out. I didn’t look back until I was in a cab blocks away. As expected, Julian didn’t chase after me. 3 Three years ago, I was just a broke college grad with no prospects. The “System” appeared and offered me a deal: Enter this world, save Julian, and earn $100 million. Once the mission was done, I could go home or stay. Either way, the money was mine to keep. I succeeded. Julian stopped being suicidal. He became the perfect partner. I felt a sense of pride—I had “fixed” him. I fell for the illusion of a happy ending. I chose to stay. But I never accounted for a time-traveling obsessive ruining the party. Fine. I still had the $100 million. It was time to go live my life. 4 A few days later, Maya showed up at my penthouse. She was the classic “It Girl”—effortlessly beautiful, the kind of woman men destroy themselves for. “Sorry to drop by unannounced,” she said with a soft, practiced smile. I let her in and made tea. She waited for me to break, to scream, to ask questions. I stayed silent. “I know everything,” she finally said. “Julian… the older one, let’s call him Ian… he told me everything.” She leaned forward. “He said in ten years, I’m miserable. Married to my current husband, Liam, with an eight-year-old kid, stuck playing the trophy wife. He told me our world is a story, a script. He asked me if I was actually happy.” She shook her head. “I’m not. I don’t want that life.” She looked at me firmly. “So, I’m divorcing Liam. I’m not going to be a puppet anymore.” I nodded. Good for her. Then she smirked. “Ian also told me you’re a ‘traveler.’ That you were sent here to save Julian.” She scanned me, her eyes brimming with pity. “Honestly, Summer, were you really going to spend your whole life on a man who never truly loved you? Is he really worth it?” I smiled. “You’re absolutely right.” Maya checked her watch. “Julian is on his way up. Why don’t we see where his heart really lies?” Before I could ask what she meant, she picked up her tea and poured the lukewarm liquid all over her silk blouse.

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The day before Ivy League admission decisions were released, every boy in our senior class decided to take a “ritual dip” in the town’s old Holy Spring. They wanted to pray for the “Prom Queen,” Chloe. I watched them as they started stripping off their clothes, ready to dive into the murky water. I hesitated, then spoke up. “I heard locals have been releasing copperheads and rattlesnakes into the springs lately. Maybe don’t jump in.” My boyfriend, Tyler, snapped at me instantly. “Maya, you already got your early admission to Harvard. Are you really that insecure that you have to sabotage our prayer for Chloe? This is pathetic. I should report you to the board; maybe they’ll revoke your admission for being such a toxic person.” Hearing that, I was ready to just walk away. But then I saw Tyler pull out a mesh bag, ready to “release” some animals for extra luck. My heart stopped. “Those are Pit Vipers! They are extremely venomous and aggressive. Do not open that bag!” Chloe stepped in, smiling sweetly, insisting they were just harmless water snakes she bought from a local “collector.” I called the Principal immediately. Luckily, a group of parents arrived just in time to stop them. They confirmed the snakes were deadly. The guys in class actually thanked me then. “If it wasn’t for you, Maya, Chloe would have gotten us all killed.” When the results came out, Chloe didn’t get into a single university. She ended up at a bottom-tier community college. She left a suicide note—which was actually a manifesto—blaming me for ruining her “blessing ritual,” claiming that’s why she failed. Then, she ran away from home. That same night, my bedroom was crawling with Vipers. As I was bitten to death, I heard Tyler’s voice from the hallway. “If this bitch hadn’t interfered, Chloe would be at Yale right now!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the spring. Back to the day they were all “praying” for Chloe. This time, I’m going to stand back and watch them die. 1 “Maya, you’re already set for Harvard. Why are you trying to stop us from helping Chloe? Are you really that jealous?” “I know your grandma got scammed by some ‘spiritual healer’ for fifty grand back in the day, but she was senile. We aren’t.” Tyler’s gaze was filled with pure disgust. Standing before the stagnant, muddy pond with the whole class, I realized I had been reborn. The phantom pain of a thousand fangs filled my mind. I forced a smile and stepped back. “I was just saying some springs have snakes. But since Chloe found this place herself, I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.” Tyler looked satisfied. “It’s time. Let’s do the release first,” Chloe said, pulling out a heavy crate. The moment she pulled back the tarp, I saw dozens of cold, slit-pupil eyes staring back. My skin crawled. In my past life, I stopped this. I saved them. And they repaid me by filling my house with venom. My parents died in their sleep. My entire neighborhood became a death trap. And Chloe? She went viral. She posted videos saying, “Maya stopped the ritual, so the snakes followed her home. Karma is real. Stay blessed.” She became a “spiritual influencer” on the back of my family’s corpses. “Maya, don’t just stand there. Help us,” Tyler barked. I looked at them—my “boyfriend” and the snakes. I felt a surge of cold fury. “I’m actually terrified of snakes,” I said, backing away toward the road. “I’ll stay up here and record the ‘miracle’ for you guys. Good luck with the blessing.” Go ahead. Feed the vipers. 2 Chloe grabbed my arm. “Maya, I know I’m not a genius like you. I don’t deserve your help.” “But first you claim there are vipers, and now you’re ‘scared’? You’re just trying to imply I’m lying to everyone. I would never hurt my friends!” She started to sob. “Just go. Everyone, just go. I don’t deserve the luck. I’ll just accept that I’m a failure.” Before I could blink, Tyler slapped me across the face. “It’s just a few snakes, you coward!” “You’re just trying to bully Chloe!” He grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the crate. I was shaking. “I’ll stay! I’ll record! Just let me go!” “Look at how pathetic you are,” Tyler sneered, throwing me to the ground. The other guys laughed. “Being a nerd doesn’t make you part of the team, Maya.” “Ugly girls are always jealous of girls like Chloe. If she messes with Chloe again, let’s just toss her into the water with the snakes.” I promised I wouldn’t leave. I held up my phone. Tyler laughed. “The ‘snake bath’ is supposed to be life-changing. If Chloe wasn’t on her period, she’d be in there with us.” The boys roared with laughter. “Stop it, you guys are embarrassing me,” Chloe giggled. “Release them!” The moment Tyler opened the crate, the snakes slid into the dark, murky water like oil. 3 Tyler stripped down and waded in. After just two steps, he let out a sharp gasp. His face contorted, his muscles twitching. Chloe laughed from the bank. “Tyler! Is it working already? Is a snake wrapping around your… you know?” The other guys got excited. “Damn, that’s intense!” “Don’t tell me you can’t handle it, Tyler!” Tyler looked like he was in agony. But he gritted his teeth, his ego refusing to let him back out. “I’m fine! Get in here! Let’s see who can stay in the longest!” I watched them all pile into the water. I smiled. Let’s see who dies first. Soon, every boy in the water had a look of sheer pain on his face. But they were all “Alpha males”—no one wanted to be the first to scream. The water was too muddy to see the blood. Tyler, the first one in, whispered, “Why does it feel so… swollen?” Chloe smirked. “I heard that in these springs, the ‘energy’ makes men more well-endowed. Maybe you should check for yourselves.” They actually fell for it. They started checking themselves under the water, their faces lighting up with a sick kind of pride. 4 Swelling. That’s the first symptom of a Pit Viper bite. The second is tissue necrosis. Their “manhood” was literally rotting while they smiled. “What are you doing?!” a voice screamed from behind me. It was Mr. Henderson, our homeroom teacher. Tyler waved lazily from the pond. “Just getting a blessing, sir.” Mr. Henderson’s face went white. “Are you insane? Look at the water! Those are Pit Vipers!” “They are highly aggressive and lethal! Get out! Now!” The boys froze. Chloe tried to intervene. “Mr. Henderson, you’re mistaken. These are harmless water snakes. I bought them myself.” The second she finished her sentence, a scream shattered the air. A snake had breached the surface and latched onto Tyler’s face. Chaos erupted. The water turned into a thrashing mess of limbs and scales. As they scrambled for the shore, I saw it. Snakes were dangling from them—latched onto their legs, their arms, and yes, their “swollen” manhoods.

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I was a ward of the Sunshine State Orphanage. One day, two wealthy families arrived. Both brought their sons, who were three years older than me. They both wanted to adopt me. Mrs. Higgins, the orphanage director, held my hand and asked gently, “Sweetheart, which one would you like to be your big brother?” I looked at the two boys in front of me. Just as I was about to point to the boy who looked like a golden retriever—warm, sunny, and smiling—rows of translucent subtitles suddenly floated before my eyes: [Girl, do not pick Gavin Sterling. He is the Main Character. In the future, he will only love the Heroine, Sarah Locke.] [Choose Liam Vance. He is the Villain. He looks cold and gloomy on the outside, but he secretly wants a little sister. If he has you, maybe he’ll learn to love. Maybe he won’t become a ruthless monster. Maybe he won’t have to die a tragic death.] My gaze shifted to the other boy. He was wearing a miniature black suit, his dark hair messy and rebellious, his expression cold as ice. I walked over, took his hand—which was freezing cold—and asked in my sweetest voice: “Will you be my big brother?” 1 Dust motes danced in the beams of sunlight cutting through the old orphanage windows. I sat on a small wooden stool, counting the cracks in the floor tiles. I had been at Sunshine State for five years. I knew every crack by heart. “Chloe King, come here a moment,” Mrs. Higgins called out from the hallway. I looked up and smoothed down my faded blue dress. It was the best one we had, saved specifically for adoption days. “Coming, Mrs. Higgins,” I chirped, jogging over. My heart was pounding. Last night, I had that dream again—a boy in black standing in the distance. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was waiting for me. Mrs. Higgins fixed my collar. “Two very nice families are here today. They both want to adopt you.” Her eyes twinkled. “This time might be the one, Chloe.” I bit my lip. People always said I was cute, but they always picked someone else. In the main hall, two couples were talking. I hid behind Mrs. Higgins, peeking out. One couple wore bright, casual clothes. The mother was crouching down, talking to a boy who radiated sunshine. He was about twelve, with chestnut hair and a smile that reached his eyes. He was flying a toy plane through the air. The other couple was starkly different. The man wore a sharp black suit. The woman wore a deep blue dress; she looked elegant but pale and sickly. Standing beside them was a boy in a black suit. He matched the figure in my dreams. He was taller than the first boy, hands shoved in his pockets, staring blankly out the window. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, and their son, Gavin,” Mrs. Higgins introduced them. “And this is Mr. and Mrs. Vance, and their son, Liam.” Gavin ran over, grinning. “Hi! I’m Gavin. I’m thirteen. Dad said I might get a sister!” He grabbed my hand enthusiastically. “Do you like planes? I can teach you how to make paper jets. I know a ton of designs!” “Gavin, don’t scare her,” Mrs. Sterling scolded gently, smiling at me. “Chloe, right? You’re adorable. If you come home with us, Gavin will be a great brother.” I instinctively looked at the other boy. Liam was still by the window, but now he had turned his head. His eyes were pitch black, staring straight at me. Cold, like winter stars. “Sweetheart,” Mrs. Higgins asked, “who do you choose?” I looked at Gavin’s warmth, then at Liam’s silence. The Sterlings looked happy. The Vances looked… broken. Just as I raised my finger toward Gavin, the text appeared in the air, glowing like a HUD in a video game: [Girl, do not pick Gavin Sterling. He is the Main Character. He will eventually abandon you for the Heroine, Sarah Locke. You will die alone in a foreign country.] I blinked. The text didn’t vanish. More appeared: [Choose Liam Vance. The Villain. He looks cold, but he needs you. Save him, and you save yourself.] My heart hammered against my ribs. Was this a hallucination? But the text was so clear. [Liam looks mean, but he will be the best brother if you give him a chance.] I looked up at Liam. He was frowning slightly, confused as to why I was staring. I took a deep breath and made up my mind. I walked toward Liam. As I got closer, he stiffened. I saw a flash of panic in his dark eyes. I stopped in front of him and grabbed his cold hand. “Will you be my big brother?” I asked, looking up. The room went silent. Liam’s eyes widened. His lips trembled. I saw shock, followed by a flicker of desperate longing. “Are you… sure?” His voice was low, raspy. “I don’t know how to… fold paper planes.” I nodded. “I’m sure.” Liam’s hand slowly tightened around mine. “Okay.” In that moment, something in his eyes melted. The subtitles flashed again: [Congratulations. You have chosen the true future.] 2 The Vance family car rolled through towering iron gates, the tires crunching on gravel. “We’re here,” Mr. Vance—Father, now—said briefly. The house was a gray stone mansion, massive and intimidating. Heavy curtains covered every window. I glanced at Liam sitting next to me. Since I picked him, he hadn’t said a word. “Let’s go inside,” Mrs. Vance said softly. She looked exhausted. I fumbled with the door handle and nearly tripped getting out. A pair of hands steadied my shoulders. Liam. “Careful,” he muttered, then immediately let go and shoved his hands back in his pockets. The interior was cold marble and crystal chandeliers. It was so big it echoed. “Martha will show you to your room,” Mrs. Vance said, coughing lightly. “I’m tired. I’ll be upstairs.” She walked up the stairs slowly, looking frail. A round-faced woman appeared. “Miss Chloe? I’m Martha, the housekeeper. Come this way.” I looked at Liam. He stood rooted to the spot. “Liam…” I whispered. “I live on the third floor,” he said, avoiding my eyes. Then he turned and vanished up the stairs. My room was on the second floor. Pale blue walls, a white bed, and brand-new fairy tale books on the desk. That night, dinner was just Father and me. Martha said Mother was unwell and Liam wasn’t hungry. “You start at Saint Mary’s Elementary tomorrow,” Father said, cutting his steak. The knife screeched against the plate. “Thank you… Dad,” I tried. He paused, grunted an acknowledgment, and went back to reading documents. That night, I couldn’t sleep. The house was too quiet. Around midnight, my door clicked open. I squeezed my eyes shut, peeking through my lashes. It was Liam. He walked silently to my bed in his pajamas. He stood there for a long time, just watching. Then, he reached out and tucked the blanket around my shoulders. “Goodnight… Chloe,” he whispered. I held my breath until he left. The blanket smelled faintly of pine soap—Liam’s scent. The next morning, Liam was at the breakfast table. “Good morning,” I chirped. “Morning,” he mumbled into his toast. “The school bus will be here in twenty minutes,” Martha announced. Liam stood up abruptly. “I’ll drive her.” Martha blinked. “But Liam, your high school is in the opposite direction.” “I’m driving her,” he repeated, grabbing his keys. Twenty minutes later, I was in the passenger seat of his car. “Thanks for the ride,” I said. Liam stared at the road. “New school. If anyone bullies you, tell me.” When we arrived, he walked me to the main office. “This is my sister,” he told the receptionist, his voice hard. “She’s new. Look out for her.” As I walked to my class, I looked back. Liam was still standing there, watching. He raised a hand in an awkward wave. My class was full of curious stares. During recess, a group of girls surrounded me. “Are you really Liam Vance’s sister?” a girl with a ponytail asked. “You don’t look like him.” “I’m adopted,” I said honestly. “Oh. So they bought you,” another girl giggled. “Did you cost a lot?” My face burned. Suddenly, the classroom went dead silent. I looked up. Liam was standing in the doorway, his face like a thundercloud. He strode over, towering over the elementary schoolers. “She’s my sister,” Liam said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “Say one more word, and see what happens.” The girls scattered like terrified birds. Liam looked at me, his expression softening. “Come find me at lunch. We’re eating together.” After he left, I looked at my desk. The glowing text appeared: [He is starting to care.] 3 A month passed. I settled into life at the Vance manor. One afternoon, I ran up to Liam after school. “Guess what? A new girl transferred in today! Her name is Sarah, and she sat next to me!” Liam frowned. “Sarah?” “Yeah! She lent me her colored pencils. She’s so nice.” [Warning: Sarah Locke has appeared. The Heroine.] The text floated in front of my face. I blinked it away. “Don’t trust strangers too easily,” Liam muttered. “But no one else talks to me,” I said quietly. Liam went silent. “I’m free this weekend. I can teach you how to make paper planes.” I looked up, eyes wide. “Really? You said you didn’t know how.” He looked away, ears turning pink. “I… learned.” That weekend, I knocked on his door. “Come in.” His room was amazing. Posters of galaxies covered the walls. Telescopes and star charts were everywhere. “You like astronomy?” I asked. He quickly closed the book he was reading—Astrophysics for People in a Hurry. “Did you need something?” “I made this for you.” I handed him a drawing. It was a girl and a boy holding hands under the stars. Liam took it. His fingers trembled slightly. He opened a drawer to put it away, and I saw he had kept everything—the paper frog I made, the clay bear, even a messy card. He kept it all. “Why are you so good at paper planes?” I asked later, as we flew them in the living room. “I spent a lot of time alone as a kid,” he said simply. My heart ached for him. Monday came. Sarah wasn’t in school. During a break, I went to the bathroom, but when I tried to leave, the door was locked from the outside. “Hello? Anyone?” I banged on the door. Hours seemed to pass. Finally, a janitor opened it. “Weird, there was an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door. A high school boy told me to check.” I ran out and saw Liam at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall. He nodded at me once, then walked away. That evening, we walked home under the setting sun. “Why did you choose me that day at the orphanage?” Liam asked suddenly, stopping under an oak tree. “Because you didn’t choose Gavin,” he whispered before I could answer. “Everyone chooses Gavin. He’s the sun. I’m just… the shadow.” He looked at me, his eyes vulnerable. “It was the first time anyone chose me.” The subtitles floated up: [He has lived in Gavin’s shadow his whole life. You changed that.] I grabbed his hand. “Because you’re better than anyone else, Liam.” He squeezed my hand back. “Idiot.” But he was smiling. 4 May arrived. Liam’s birthday was coming up. I used all my allowance to buy a limited edition book: The Hubble Legacy. The day before his birthday, Father came home. He tossed an expensive gaming console on the table without even wrapping it. Liam didn’t even look at it. “Liam,” Father said at dinner. “I hear you’re top of your class again. Good. Keep it up for the business.” Mother coughed weakly. The tension was thick. The next morning, I snuck the book into Liam’s backpack. After school, I found him on the roof terrace of our house. “Happy Birthday!” I shouted, holding a small, slightly melted cupcake I’d bought from the corner bakery. Liam turned around. “You… got this for me?” “Yup! And check your bag!” He pulled out the book. His eyes softened in a way I’d never seen. “Thank you.” We ate the cupcake together. “Make a wish!” I said. “I don’t have any,” he said. “Can I make one for you?” I closed my eyes. I wish my brother would be happy and never lonely again. “What did you wish for?” “Can’t tell. Won’t come true.” Liam adjusted his telescope. “Want to see Saturn?” We looked at the stars until late. “Do you want to be an astronomer?” I asked. “Father wouldn’t allow it,” he said bitterly. “But it’s your dream.” He didn’t answer, just patted my head. A week later, Mother’s condition crashed. An ambulance came in the night. Liam went with her. He came back at dawn, eyes red and hollow. “She needs surgery,” he rasped. Three days later, I visited the hospital. I showed Mother a drawing of our family smiling. Liam watched me, his face tight. The subtitles flashed, bright red: [Warning: In three days, Mrs. Vance will die. Prepare yourself. He will need you.] My heart sank.

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After my family went bankrupt, I was picked up off the street by my former, gloomy lackey and taken to his cramped rental apartment. I was spoiled and delicate, constantly complaining about the food and the living conditions. To support me, he worked eight part-time jobs a day. The way he looked at me grew darker and more terrifying by the minute. But the conditions were still subpar, and I honestly couldn’t stand it anymore. The day I decided to throw a tantrum and leave, a translucent comment stream—like a Twitch chat—floated across my vision. [Just let the side character leave. She’s abandoning the only person who can help her reclaim her family fortune.] [Yeah, later when she finds out the Male Lead is loaded, she tries to crawl back. So stupid and pathetic. Why would he want her then? She ends up getting hit by a truck. RIP bozo.] [Why isn’t she moving? Throw a tantrum! If she doesn’t leave, the Female Lead won’t have a chance to capture the Male Lead’s heart. He looks all gloomy, but wait until you see him in action…] I froze, staring at the words “reclaim her family fortune.” My lackey asked coldly, “What? Is the food not to your liking again?” I stopped my hand, which was about to smash the bowl on the floor, and gave a reserved nod. “It’s… passable, I guess.” 1 To show my sincerity, I scooped up a huge spoonful of oatmeal and shoved it into my mouth. I didn’t realize that while the surface had cooled, the bottom was still scalding hot. I flinched in pain. “Caleb! Why didn’t you let it cool down before bringing it to me?!” Tears welled up in my eyes. I stuck out my scalded, red tongue and glared at him accusingly. I totally forgot about the whole “be nice to Caleb to get my money back” plan. [Thought this side character changed her ways? Nope, still a brat. Even if she doesn’t leave, the Male Lead is gonna snap eventually.] Reading that comment, my arrogance deflated instantly. I was about to stammer out an apology. But Caleb turned around without a word and walked away from the table. Panic surged in my chest. I stood there, helpless. Until he came back and grabbed my chin. Caleb’s gaze was quiet but intense, focused on my mouth. He popped an ice cube into my mouth, his fingers brushing against my lips. “Keep it there.” Who gave you permission to order me around? I puffed out my cheeks and sucked on the ice, surprisingly not arguing back. Caleb didn’t have much time. After making my meal, he shoveled a few bites into his own mouth. Then he had to rush to his next gig. Before leaving, Caleb stared at me for a long moment, then said slowly, “Be good and wait for me to come back.” I felt a little guilty. If I hadn’t seen those comments, I would have already stormed out in a huff. But now… Sneaking away like a coward? That’s not my style. My guilt looked like agreement to Caleb. He walked over, face dark, and clamped his hand around my wrist. “I’m not going. Ava, don’t even think about leaving.” I wanted to cry. If he skipped work, our quality of life would tank even further. Skipping a whole afternoon? We’d starve. “I’m not leaving! Caleb, don’t you want to buy me that bag? Go to work!” I finally managed to chase him out. I collapsed onto the rock-hard mattress, thinking about the bitter days ahead, and actually started crying. Ugh, if I had known, I would never have gone home with Caleb that day. 2 For the first twenty-some years of my life, everything went my way. I was the jewel of the wealthy Sterling family. I had a posse of followers who flattered and obeyed me. Caleb was the quietest, most unlikable one of the bunch. Since he was a scholarship student sponsored by my family and was decently handsome, I was usually willing to let him tag along. But he didn’t know how to suck up. He just stared at you with those gloomy, silent eyes. Being stared at like that made me uncomfortable, so I bullied him in public quite a few times. Then my father went bankrupt and was framed, ending up in prison. My former followers moved into my mansion, and I was kicked out, barefoot. My so-called friends just laughed at me. Even my posse was threatened into silence; no one dared to help. In the cold wind, I heard more mockery than I had in my entire life. When I was terrified and lost, it was Caleb who found me. He brushed the dirt off my feet and silently carried me on his back. This gloomy, cold man… his hands gripping my thighs were burning hot. I sniffled. “What are you doing here? Here to laugh at me too?” He said simply, “I’m taking care of you from now on.” I blurted out, “Why? I was so mean to you.” I regretted it as soon as I said it. Finally someone came for me. I was freezing to death. After a long silence, Caleb said, “Just repaying a debt. Don’t overthink it.” Unexpectedly, he actually had a conscience. I was cold, so I pressed tight against his back. Caleb looked thin, but his broad shoulders blocked the wind completely. He walked steadily, step by step. An unfamiliar emotion began to spread in my chest. I suddenly felt like crying. I looked up and said stubbornly, “Fine… I’ll temporarily allow you to take care of me.” 3 Later, I realized what that emotion was. Gratitude. I rarely thanked anyone. From birth, I got whatever I wanted. Good things were supposed to be mine. Why would I need to be grateful? This resulted in my gratitude sensors being extremely weak. Just one day after Caleb took me in, I regretted it. I wanted to scream. Caleb poured me water. Me: “Does boiling toilet water suddenly make it drinkable?” Caleb cooked for me. Me: “Cheap ingredients matched with your atrocious cooking skills. It’s garbage upon garbage.” I threw tantrums all day until bedtime. As soon as I lay down, I cried. How can a mattress be this hard?! Caleb padded it with everything he had, but I still couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, finally sitting up. “Hey, stop sleeping on the floor. Come up here.” Caleb’s breathing hitched. “Don’t mess around, Ava. How can I sleep with you?” Everyone called me “Princess” or “Miss Sterling,” but Caleb refused. My rebellious streak flared up. “No! I need you to be my human mattress!” Caleb didn’t move or speak. I pouted. “Fine. If you don’t come, I won’t sleep.” I sat cross-legged on the bed, prepared to outlast him. Moonlight streamed through the window. I saw a struggle on his face. Finally, he gave in. “Don’t move around. And of course, I won’t do anything…” Caleb was giving disclaimers. But I had already picked my spot, curled up, and hugged him tight. Caleb stopped talking mid-sentence. I felt much better. I used to sleep hugging a giant polar bear plushie. Caleb wasn’t as soft, but the size was about right. I was in a good mood, muttering “Goodnight” to myself. Then I fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, the plushie got warmer and warmer, like a little furnace. So cozy. I hugged tighter. 4 Since then, I’ve been sharing a bed with Caleb. Today was no different. Caleb, looking exhausted, brought a basin of warm water for my feet. “Wash up and get in bed. I’ll dump the water after I shower.” The comment stream exploded. [Is this girl for real? Living off him and making him wash her feet? She should be serving him!] [Ahhh when does the Female Lead show up? Only she will treat our boy right.] [Soon, soon. Then this brat can go live on the streets!] I was confused. I’ve had people wash my feet since I was a kid. I was used to it. I didn’t think Caleb minding was bad. I knocked my head. I said I’d be nicer to him today. So I got out of bed and clumsily dumped the water myself. Water splashed on my hands. I was disgusted and washed them several times. When I came back, Caleb had just finished showering. Seeing me holding the basin, he paused. “Why did you dump it yourself?” I shrugged. “Felt like it.” After getting in bed, Caleb habitually tried to pull me into his arms. I refused. I thought, I dumped the water and I’m not using him as a mattress. That’s nice enough, right? He shouldn’t kick me out now. Unexpectedly, Caleb sat up, face dark, eyes scary. “Ava, what is wrong with you today?” I felt wronged. I was being nice, and he was yelling at me? I snapped, “I sleep how I want! What’s your problem?” Hearing this, the rims of Caleb’s eyes turned red. He looked even scarier. He grabbed my wrist tight, leaving a red mark. “Ava, do you think I’m a toy? You play with me when you want and toss me aside when you don’t?” He guessed it. He was literally the replacement for my polar bear. Caleb read my expression and gritted his teeth. “What are we, Ava? What is this?” What are we? I’m not a rich heiress anymore, and he’s not exactly my lackey. I stammered, unable to answer. Caleb gave a dark smile, locked me in his arms, and wrapped his limbs around me tight. “Ava, I don’t care what we are. I’m never letting you go.”

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Before the SATs, the tech billionaire heir was dumped by the school’s Prom Queen in the harshest way possible. I was sitting nearby, gnawing on dry ramen, and leaned in toward him while he stared blankly at his textbooks. “I look like her. Want to date me instead to make her jealous?” He was silent for a moment, then handed me the bouquet of roses meant for her. I took his money with a clear conscience. I demanded a hundred thousand a month. He didn’t say a word. He wired me two hundred thousand. After we got married, he fulfilled his marital duties four times a week like clockwork—punctual, efficient, excellent service. Everyone said Julian Thorne had found true love. Until one day, his assistant whispered to me: “That new secretary Julian hired? Rumor has it she was the Prom Queen back in the day. “Ma’am, Mr. Thorne seems very fond of her. He even gave her your favorite lounge…” 1 I went after Julian Thorne for one reason: money. He was a hopeless romantic, the kind who showered his girlfriends with cash. While I was starving and surviving on instant noodles, I envied the Prom Queen, Sarah, who wore $200,000 diamond earrings before she even graduated high school. I couldn’t understand why she dumped a billionaire like Julian to run off with some broke scholarship kid. So when Sarah slapped Julian and stormed off, I blocked her path at the classroom door. “Did you guys really break up?” She looked at my worn-out thrift store clothes with disdain and shook off my hand. “Yeah. We’re done.” “Can I chase him then?” She looked me up and down, laughing out loud. “Sure, go ahead. If you actually land him, I’ll give you these earrings.” I stared at the $200,000 earrings Julian had given her and nodded. But at the post-graduation party, when she saw Julian walk in with me on his arm, her smile froze. When Julian went to the restroom, she requested a song for me. The lyrics were all about “cheating sluts.” The room went silent, everyone staring at me. “Bunny, you’re pathetic,” Sarah sneered. I knew exactly what Julian saw me as. But I still popped a bottle of champagne and poured the entire thing over Sarah’s head. Then I snatched the earrings off her. “A bet is a bet. If you didn’t want me to date him, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged to that broke guy.” “Bunny Lin!” Sarah screamed and lunged at me, but a strong hand pulled me behind a broad back. Julian took the slap meant for me. He dragged me out of the club and didn’t say a word all night. I figured his heart still ached for her. I knew my place perfectly. I quietly followed Sarah’s Instagram. Every time she posted a new outfit, I bought the same one. I’d wear it on the nights we had sex. Every time he saw me wearing Sarah’s style, the emotion in his eyes was unreadable. I knew he secretly checked her Instagram too. Looking at me was like looking at a ghost of his past love. My best friend, Chloe, was furious for me. “You’re his wife! Not her shadow!” But I thought it was fine. I asked for $100k a month; he sent $200k. I got greedy and asked for $300k. He sent $500k. Who cares about love when you live like this? I came from a home with no love and no money. If there was a chance to get rich, I’d grab it, dignity be damned. While Julian was still interested, I had to play my part well. On our first anniversary, Sarah updated her Instagram. She got a butterfly tattoo on her neck. I cried from the pain but spent ten hours getting the exact same tattoo. When Julian walked out of the shower and saw the tattoo peeking out from my purple lace slip, he froze while drying his hair. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” “Don’t do that again.” He showed no interest in my butterfly. “And throw away all your purple clothes.” My heart sank. Purple was Sarah’s favorite color. Did he get tired of me cosplaying his “one that got away”? Was my job as a substitute ending? “I mean, it hurts,” he said, flicking my forehead. “Even if you don’t copy her, I’ll still give you money.” The next day, the maid took away all my purple clothes. I hated purple anyway. The maid filled my closet with elegant black dresses. I touched the expensive fabric— Wait, did Julian know I liked black? But if I didn’t imitate Sarah, how would I keep my job? So, I tested the waters and asked Julian for $800k. He gave me a black card. No limit. Customized with “Mrs. Thorne.” While shopping with Chloe, she asked curiously, “Didn’t you say you’d do five years, grab the cash, and run? The five years are almost up. When are you divorcing him?” I stared at a baby outfit in the window and fell silent. 2 I had been Julian’s substitute for five years. I didn’t know what loving someone was supposed to look like. I only remembered that before my mom left with another man, the thing she did that made me happiest was knitting me a scarf. Now my fingers were covered in band-aids, and the scarf was finished. But Julian didn’t seem to need it anymore. Because today was our scheduled “couple’s night,” and he was thirty minutes late. I fell asleep waiting on the couch. I was kissed awake. “Sorry, the partners added some last-minute clauses. I’m late.” Julian unbuttoned his shirt, his breath hot but controlled. For the first time, I pushed him away. “When are you planning to divorce me?” His breath hitched. “What are you talking about?” I looked up at him. “I know she’s back. You even gave her my favorite lounge at the office. “I checked. My access card doesn’t work for that room anymore.” His muscles tensed. “Julian, don’t overthink it. I won’t cling to you. I don’t want a huge settlement, just give me…” He was already on his phone, his tone colder than I’d ever heard. “Secretary? What secretary? “And what about the lounge? “Do personnel changes happen without my approval now?” On the other end, the HR director’s voice trembled. “Mr. Thorne, she showed us photos of you two dating in high school. She said the Madam stole her man… “Mrs. Thorne does look like Ms. Sarah, and those photos were definitely of you, sir. We thought it was your instruction…” Julian’s expression was icy. “Blacklist Sarah from the entire industry. I want Mrs. Thorne’s access to the lounge restored in one hour. “And you—go to finance and pick up your severance check.” The HR director tried to explain, but Julian hung up. I looked at him in shock. He turned and hugged me, kissing me hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I haven’t been at headquarters these past few days…” I believed him. He was always flying around the world. But no matter how far he went, he never missed our four nights a week. I was still unsure, gripping his shirt tight. “Blacklisting your ‘one that got away’? Aren’t you afraid she’ll be heartbroken?” “What ‘one that got away’?” His kisses made me breathless. “I only have you.” “Are you… confessing?” “Yes.” “Then, Julian.” I hugged him back fiercely. “Who am I to you?” He paused, then kissed me even deeper. “My wife. The boss.” My body trembled. “Then I’m really going to act like the boss from now on.” “You always should have.” That night, neither of us slept. 3 My knitting skills improved. I unraveled the old scarf and made a bigger, warmer one. But Chloe sent me a video. In the clip, Julian was leaving a mansion in the Hamptons after a meeting. He walked past Sarah, holding a black umbrella. Since being blacklisted, she had nowhere to go. She couldn’t even pay rent. She was soaked, her purple dress clinging to her skin, outlining her curves. She looked at him through teary eyes in the wind. “Julian…” Sarah’s voice trembled. Julian paused for a split second. Then he walked past her without looking back. “Julian! Have you forgotten everything we had?!” Sarah screamed, but Julian didn’t turn around. I breathed a sigh of relief. He knew his duty. But I underestimated Sarah’s resolve. The storm raged all night. She stood downstairs all night. Until she collapsed. A black umbrella appeared in my view. Sarah struggled to open her eyes, looking up at the person holding the umbrella. Julian was dry, his pale face emotionless. But the umbrella tilted gently toward Sarah. Julian flew back to New York the next day as planned. But he gave that Hamptons mansion to Sarah. “Bunny, what do we do? Julian never spends money on anyone but his woman!” I thought for a moment. “Since he says I’m his wife, I’ll handle this the way his wife should.” That same day, Sarah was kicked out of the mansion. And that day, Julian didn’t come home. It was the first time since our marriage that he missed our night. I called him a dozen times. He didn’t answer. The next day, he came home looking exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot. “Did you order Sarah to be kicked out?” I didn’t dodge. “Yes.” “Who gave you the right to be unreasonable?” I was shocked by the accusation in his tone. I looked up. “You mean, as your wife, I should tolerate your ex-girlfriend living in our property?” Julian didn’t speak. He just threw his phone at me with a video playing. On the screen, Sarah was being dragged into an alley by a group of men, her purple dress torn to shreds. Julian’s voice trembled. “If I hadn’t arrived in time, Sarah would have been raped!” I looked at the video coldly. “What do you want me to do?” “Go to the hospital. Apologize to Sarah.” “Julian.” I pushed the phone back. “I will not apologize to a mistress.” “Mistress?” Julian seemed surprised I used that word. A sneer I’d never seen before curled his lips. “If we’re really keeping score, you’re the mistress, aren’t you?” My breath stopped. He ignored my shock and stormed out. The door slammed for the first time. I sat alone on the couch until late at night. Messages from friends kept popping up on my phone: [Bunny! What’s going on? Why is Julian skipping meetings to stay at the hospital with another woman?] [They say she’s Julian’s first love. Is it true?] [Bunny, get to the hospital! Your husband is slipping away!] I didn’t reply to any of them. Instead, I packed my bags and waited for Julian to return three days later. He saw my suitcase and chuckled lightly. “What’s this? Playing the runaway wife?” I handed him the divorce papers. “Let’s divorce. I don’t want the settlement money.” His hand, holding a tea cup, froze. 4 He flipped through the agreement page by page, his expression serious. His hands were trembling slightly. “Divorce? Who’s going to give you that kind of money?” “Thanks to you, Mr. Thorne, I won’t starve.” He paused. “Fine. Divorce. But you have to return every cent I spent on you.” I froze. Five years as a substitute… I had spent a decent amount. Seeing me hesitate, Julian’s smile relaxed a bit. “It’s okay if you can’t pay it back. As long as we don’t divorce…” “Done.” He blinked. I am someone deeply insecure about money. No matter how much I had, I never spent recklessly. Even with nine figures in my account, when Julian wasn’t around, I ate ramen with two eggs. Five years. Income: hundreds of millions. Expenses: two million. I handed him my bank card, then felt around and took off the $200,000 earrings. That covered the rest. “I won these earrings from Sarah in a bet, so they’re technically mine. Here. That settles it.” I took Julian’s hand and placed the earrings in his palm. As I turned to leave, he dropped the earrings and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go!” “I didn’t really mean for you to pay me back!” The eloquent CEO was suddenly speechless. “Julian, stop blocking me…” I was impatient, but when I turned around, I froze. A tear hit the back of my hand. I stared at him in disbelief. “You… are crying?” “I’m sorry.” His eyes were red. “Don’t do this to me.” I had never seen a man like him cry. If the paparazzi caught this, Thorne Corp’s stock would plummet. So I sat down and listened to his explanation. Turns out, he hadn’t been at the hospital these past few days. He asked his friends to send those provoking messages because he thought I had arranged for those men to assault Sarah. He couldn’t accept that I would do something like that. I could kick her out, but I couldn’t be ruthless enough to have a gang of men violate another woman. But he still took Sarah to the hospital and visited her. Because he didn’t want me to get sued. “Calling you a mistress… I was just angry. I’m sorry.” Julian’s eyes were red. I was silent for a moment. “Julian, you really hurt me this time.” Pain flashed in his eyes. “But I can give you one chance.” His eyes lit up. “Julian, I want you to cut all ties with Sarah. Send her away. Far away.” “Okay…” He gripped my hand tight, like he was holding onto a lost treasure. “I promise.”

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My best friend and I started trying for a baby at the same time. She was obsessed with having the “perfect” child, fixated on every superstition about timing and astrology. When I found out I was pregnant, she discovered she was too. The doctor said everything looked great. But she insisted the baby’s zodiac sign clashed with hers—a bad omen. I told her she was being ridiculous and begged her to keep it. I even stood by her side, arguing against her husband’s family when they hesitated. She kept the baby. A girl. But her mother-in-law, who only wanted a grandson, made her life hell. The house became a war zone of constant screaming and fighting. Then her husband’s business went under. They blamed it on the baby, saying she brought bad luck. One day, while my friend was napping, her mother-in-law “accidentally” suffocated the baby. My friend was devastated. But instead of blaming her in-laws, she turned her rage on me. “We started trying together, but you got pregnant first! You stole my luck! You took my chance at a good baby and left me with this cursed life!” On my daughter’s first birthday, she slipped past the nanny, snatched my baby, and strangled her with a silk scarf. “If I can’t have a child, neither can you!” Grief drove me insane. I grabbed her, and together, we plunged from the roof of my apartment building. When I opened my eyes, I was back on that day. She was holding a bottle of prenatal vitamins, asking me, “They say we need to start taking these three months in advance. Have you started?” I kept my face blank. “I haven’t. Actually, I’m not really trying right now. We’re just going to let nature take its course. You should find someone else to be your ‘pregnancy buddy.’” 1 Sarah’s face froze. “Nature take its course? This is a huge life decision! If you’re going to do it, you can’t just be casual about it.” I shrugged. “People have been having babies for thousands of years without all this planning. It worked out fine for them.” “I’m just going to live my life. Eat, drink, have fun. If it happens, it happens.” Sarah looked horrified. “You can’t compare us to people in the past! The environment is totally different now.” “Besides, there are rules. Some days are good for conceiving, and some days are absolute disasters.” I played along, scrolling through my phone. “Unless one of us is sick, does it really matter?” Sarah scoffed. “It matters a lot!” “First, you have to look at the astrological calendar. You have to avoid the ‘Void Days.’” “Void Days?” “It’s basic energy flow,” she said, her eyes widening with that manic intensity I remembered too well. “The Winter and Summer Solstices. The energy is too weak. If you conceive then, the baby will be sickly.” I raised an eyebrow. “What about the moon? Let me guess, no full moons?” Sarah nodded solemnly. “No New Moons, actually. And no Waxing or Waning Crescents. Those are low-energy phases. A child conceived then will have a weak constitution.” She went on. Solar eclipses? Bad. Thunderstorms? Terrible. According to her, a baby conceived during a storm would grow up violent and uncontrollable because they absorbed the “chaotic energy” of the weather. I listened, stunned. In my last life, she only obsessed over Zodiac signs. She was a Taurus, so she refused to have a Leo or an Aquarius baby because they “clashed.” She almost aborted her first pregnancy because the due date meant the baby would be a Leo—a sign that supposedly brought conflict to her life. “We’d never get along,” she had argued. “Why bring a child into the world just to fight with it?” But this time? She was deep down the rabbit hole of lunar phases and barometric pressure. “I’m telling you,” she said, spitting a little in her excitement. “You can’t conceive if you’ve been drinking, if you’re angry, or if you’ve just recovered from a cold…” The list was endless. Getting pregnant isn’t as easy as TV makes it look. I tried for six months before it happened last time. You only have a few fertile days a month. If you follow Sarah’s rules—avoiding bad moon phases, bad weather, bad moods—you’d have maybe one viable day a year. I waved my hand, cutting her off. “That’s too much math for me. I’m out. You do you.” Sarah pouted, trying to argue, but I made an excuse and bolted. Go ahead, Sarah. Plan your perfect pregnancy. I’d love to see what kind of “perfect” child you end up with this time. 2 I practically ran home, collapsing onto the sofa to catch my breath. I had planned to be chill about this. Just exercise, take my vitamins, and see what happens. But Sarah… she treated pregnancy like a military operation. She wanted a “buddy” to validate her neuroses. “Let’s work together! We can catch each other’s mistakes!” she’d said. As if getting pregnant was a group project. I checked the calendar. If the timeline held, I’d get a positive test in three days. My phone pinged. Sarah: “I know you don’t want to plan with me, but I need your advice.” “If I get pregnant now, the baby will be a Leo. That clashes with my sign. Should I keep it or not?” In my past life, I was the supportive friend. “Don’t be silly,” I told her. “So many people struggle with infertility. If you’re lucky enough to conceive naturally, it’s a blessing. Don’t throw it away over a horoscope.” I thought I was saving a life. Instead, I doomed my own daughter. I clenched my fists, remembering the cold weight of my baby’s body in my arms. This time? I wasn’t playing savior. I typed back: “I really don’t know. You should ask your husband.” Then I added: “Or ask your mother-in-law. Older people know more about this stuff.” Her mother-in-law, Linda, was a piece of work. Linda didn’t just hate that Sarah had a girl. She hated the baby’s zodiac sign. “Leos are too dominant for girls,” Linda had sneered. “They bring drama. Bad for the family harmony.” It was superstitious garbage. But it was garbage that eventually led to murder. Sarah’s in-laws were rich. They owned a chain of hotels. Her husband, Mike, was a spineless mama’s boy who worked for the family business. Sarah always felt inferior to them. In the past, I defended her. “Who cares about signs? It’s 2024! Don’t let them brainwash you!” Sarah repeated my words to Linda. And when the baby died, Linda blamed me. “If that friend of yours hadn’t pushed her to keep it, none of this would have happened. She knew it was bad luck. She probably wanted to sabotage us.” I wasn’t taking the fall this time. I sent the text. “Ask Linda. She’s the expert.” 3 Sarah replied instantly with a crying emoji. “I’m screwed. Before the wedding, Linda told us not to try this year.” “She hates Leos. She wants us to wait for a Virgo or Libra. She says Virgos are meticulous and good for the family business.” It was laughable. As if the baby’s birth month determined the stock market. I kept my tone cool. “Wait, are you already pregnant? If not, why worry? Just use protection like they said.” A long pause. Then: “Don’t tell anyone… but my period is four days late. I’m scared to take a test.” I sneered at the screen. She knew. She already suspected she was pregnant. She just wanted someone else to make the decision for her. She wanted a scapegoat. She sent a barrage of messages about her anxiety, her fear, her helplessness. I left them on read. Two hours later, she posted on social media: “Just realized there is no true empathy in this world. From now on, I only rely on myself.” Classic Sarah. Always the victim. I scrolled past without liking it. 4 Three days later, my test was positive. I went to the hospital for blood work to confirm. And there, in the waiting room, was Sarah. “You too?” she asked, sliding into the seat next to me. Just like before, our levels were perfectly normal. Sarah immediately started complaining about the doctor. “That lady was so rude. The first thing she asked was, ‘Do you want to keep it?’” “I started crying right there. I don’t know if I can keep it! Why did she have to ask that?” “It’s a standard medical question, Sarah,” I said flatly. “She asked me too.” “Well, are you keeping it?” Sarah’s eyes widened. “Yes. We planned for this.” “Must be nice,” she grumbled. “Mine was an accident. It’s so annoying.” She snatched my lab report from my hand, staring at the date of my last period. She mumbled, calculating furiously on her fingers. “You conceived during a Waning Gibbous moon. That baby is going to have low energy.” I snatched the paper back. “I don’t believe in that crap.” Sarah stared at me, then smirked. “Want to know a secret?” “What?” “I checked the Chinese Gender Chart. Based on your age and conception month… you’re having a girl.” She sighed. “Mine is a girl too.” I relaxed. I wanted a girl. I wanted my girl back. Sarah looked miserable. “A girl, and a Leo. Linda is going to lose her mind.” I stayed silent. “Does your mother-in-law care?” she probed. “My mother-in-law is a Leo,” I lied smoothly. “She loves them. She’s hoping for a granddaughter.” Sarah’s eyes flashed with jealousy. “You have it so easy. If I keep this baby, my life will be hell.” “The doctor said I have to decide fast. The bigger it gets, the harder the procedure is on my body.” I nodded indifferently. “Mmh.” Suddenly, Sarah grabbed my hand. Her grip was tight, desperate. “But I’m twenty-eight!” I stared at her. “And?” “Twenty-eight is the peak physiological age for women! I don’t want to waste a ‘perfect’ egg!” Perfect egg? “Who told you that?” I pulled my hand away. “Medical consensus says anywhere from 25 to 34 is ideal.” Sarah shook her head pityingly. “You don’t get it. Ancient texts say a woman’s body changes every seven years. Four times seven is twenty-eight. That’s when the body is at its absolute zenith. ‘Bones are hard, hair is long, body is strong.’” She looked at the ceiling, dreamy. “This is my golden window.” I was speechless. In my last life, I fought her battles for her. I had no idea she was this deep in the cult of pseudoscience. She clenched her fist. “No. I have to find a way to keep this baby.” I almost laughed. I didn’t have to do a thing. Her own obsession was going to trap her.

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They say pearls are a merman’s token of eternal love. So I worked up the courage to ask my merman fiancé. “Can you give me one of your pearls?” He rejected me with icy arrogance, then turned around and carefully offered a pearl, born from his tears, to another girl. My heart finally turned to ash. As I packed my bags, determined to leave, a translucent stream of comments—like a Twitch chat—floated before my eyes. [Oh, so this is the plot point where the Male Lead goes crazy and imprisons our girl?] [Hehe, she ‘accidentally’ left a dress in his closet. During his heat cycle, he practically shredded it to ribbons.] [Run, girl! If he catches you, he’ll lock you up and make you cry until you lose your voice~] But when the moment came… The chat was shocked to discover that the one shedding pearls first… Was my arrogant merman fiancé. 1 Caspian locked himself in his room again. No matter how hard I knocked. The only response was endless silence. I had just tripped on the stairs, and in my panic, I accidentally grabbed his arm to steady myself. Caspian reacted like I burned him. He shoved me away. Then he stumbled up the stairs and slammed his door. By the time I snapped out of it, he was gone. A dull throb in my ankle told me I had sprained it. After waiting for who knows how long, Caspian’s muffled voice came through the crack in the door. “Get out.” It sounded like he was grinding his teeth, holding something back. I went silent. I turned and walked away without looking back. Fine. Be mean. But the next second, a line of text floated across my vision. [For a merman, he sure can hold it in. Is he impotent or something?] Impotent? I stopped. Is that a merman thing? Soon, more comments appeared. [Girl, cry a little! If you cry, he’ll panic so hard he won’t even have time to pull up his pants lol.] [Hehe, you guys are bad. But I support this with both hands and feet~] 2 I was skeptical. But my ankle really did look horrific. I’ve always been delicate; even a hangnail makes me whimper for half a day. —”Acting weak,” Caspian called it. To get his attention, I used to make up all sorts of lies. And Caspian always ruthlessly exposed them. I took a deep breath, composed myself, and knocked again. When I spoke, I nailed the choked-up, aggrieved tone perfectly. “Caspian, I think I twisted my ankle. It really hurts.” One second. Two seconds. Ten seconds. Still no reaction from inside. I was so embarrassed I wanted the floor to swallow me. I shouldn’t have expected anything. Caspian is the heir to the Merfolk clan, forced into an engagement with me—a human girl—because of an ancient curse. So he always treated me with disdain. No matter how hard I tried to please him. I pushed down the disappointment and limped back to my room. But five minutes later, just as I hobbled to my bed, my door banged open. Caspian stood there, looking furious. “Elena, are you done yet?” But the moment his eyes met my teary ones, he froze. He didn’t expect it. This time, I wasn’t lying. 3 Caspian was acting very weird tonight. He was clutching a tube of ointment, but he seemed terrified to step into my bedroom. He didn’t look like a noble merman. He looked like an awkward puppy. So the awkward puppy started scolding me. “Are you an idiot? Why didn’t you say something earlier if you were hurt?” “But it really hurts…” I lifted my foot slightly to prove I wasn’t lying. My ankle was swollen like a pig’s trotter. Caspian went silent. Finally, he entered my room, knelt on one knee on the carpet, and carefully applied the ointment. From this angle, I could clearly see the faint blue halo behind his ears. His fins. Caspian had never shown his merman form in front of me, even though I was dying of curiosity. [Touch his fins! He’ll definitely thank you for it.] Really? I was doubtful. But my hand moved on its own. Hmm, smooth. And a little cool. “Don’t touch me!” I flinched, shrinking back instinctively. Caspian looked up, glaring viciously. “Touch me again, and I’ll throw you into the ocean to feed the sharks!” I pouted and turned my head away, ignoring him. So mean. Caspian panted heavily, threw the ointment into my lap with trembling fingers, and stormed out again. 4 See? Caspian hates me. He hates me so much he can’t stand physical contact. I curled up, resting my chin on my knees, feeling utterly dejected. I completely ignored the chat scrolling above my head. [Ooh, look at the red rims of his eyes. One more touch and he would have exploded right there. Girl, check his room, I bet there’s a surprise.] [Forget it, forget it. A man with no mouth deserves no wife. Dump him!] [No wait! Give him another chance! I’m dying for the heat cycle arc. I heard mermen have cloacas~] [Hehe, waiting for the underwater scene and the loss of control. Feasting tonight!] Meanwhile. Caspian was submerged in a bathtub, clothes soaking wet and clinging to his perfect body. One hand gripped the edge of the tub, the other was underwater. The merman heat cycle was approaching. It was the time he needed a mate the most. But how could a fragile human girl handle a merman’s desire? Caspian’s ears were still burning red. Red enough to bleed. His fins still held the warmth and scent of the girl’s touch. Caspian gripped the porcelain tight. Her image filled his mind. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he thought: Touching my fins isn’t enough. If only she could just kill me and get it over with.

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In my wildest year, I played the part of a fallen angel and became the trophy girlfriend of Sebastian Thorne, a powerful Wall Street tycoon. To the public, he was cold and distant. In private, he was possessive and insatiable, demanding affection anywhere, anytime. I enjoyed the thrill for three months, then got bored. Just as I was about to break it off, I overheard someone warning him: “Take it easy with Sienna. Don’t knock her up. These girls who believe in ‘true love’ are the hardest to get rid of.” Sebastian’s tone was flat: “Money solves everything.” “But the girl is obsessed with me right now. Very clingy. No rush.” Clingy? Me? But last time he was drunk, crying and begging me never to leave him… I accidentally recorded that. 1 When I woke up, Sebastian was gone. He had a cross-border conference call and had disappeared into his study before dawn. I sat in front of the vanity mirror. Looking at my reflection—haggard, like a succubus drained of her essence by a male demon. I let out a heavy sigh. I couldn’t live this life of being “too well-fed” for another day. Finally, I mustered the courage to go to his study and break up. But outside the door, I heard Sebastian’s business partner, Liam, gossiping. “Seb, that pink diamond you dropped 20 million on at the auction… don’t tell me it’s for Sienna?” I looked down at my ring finger, where the diamond sparkled with fire. It was the ring Sebastian coaxed me into wearing during one of our intense nights. “It’s just 20 million. Don’t make a fuss.” Hearing this, Liam paused, then exclaimed in disbelief: “No way, you actually gave it to her? Can a broke girl like her even tell the difference?” Then his tone shifted, serious: “Seb, as a brother, let me remind you. Someone from the bottom like Sienna isn’t right for you.” “I know.” Liam sighed in relief: “Good, as long as you know. But take it easy with her. Don’t knock her up. These girls who believe in ‘true love’ are the hardest to get rid of.” I laughed out of anger. In one minute, he spent fifty-nine seconds insulting me. The last second was spent finding the words. But the next moment. I heard Sebastian hum lightly, replying indifferently: “Money solves everything.” “But the girl is obsessed with me right now. Very clingy. No rush.” Huh? Clingy? Me? But last time I was filming a TikTok dance. He barged in, reeking of alcohol. Crying and demanding I promise never to leave him. I accidentally recorded that. 2 While I was spacing out. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Sebastian: [Awake?] I immediately ran back to bed, lay down, and sent a “just woke up” selfie. He replied instantly: “Little temptress.” Before I could react, he video called me. As soon as I answered. A screen full of tanned chest muscles hit my eyes. I was immune to it by now, even pouting in disdain. Sebastian chuckled low: “Seducing me?” Bro, listen to your own voice, raspy as hell. Who is seducing whom? I put on a cold face: “Sebastian, let’s break up.” If I had any guilt before today… It vanished the moment I heard him trash-talking me with his friend. Silence on the other end for a second. “Which brand’s new collection do you want?” “I’m serious. Not joking.” “The new limited edition Hermès Birkin crocodile. It’s in the walk-in closet, third shelf from the left. Go get it.” I went silent. Liam should really see who the simp is here. Seeing me silent. Sebastian lit a cigar, staring at the camera for three seconds. Suddenly, he smiled, voice husky: “Baby, was I too rough last night? Did I hurt you?” Mentioning that. I suppressed the urge to curse and tried to reason with him. “We aren’t compatible.” “I think we fit perfectly.” He smirked, a meaningful look in his eyes. I started making things up. “You like dogs, I like cats. Your dog always bullies my cat.” “I like sleeping in; you like waking up early to work out.” “I love burgers and fries; you say kale smoothies are healthier.” “Incompatible means incompatible. Sebastian, let’s be adults. A peaceful breakup, okay?” I said it all in one breath. I didn’t notice the anger rising on his face. The next second. Bang! The bedroom door was shoved open. Sebastian stood there, radiating a chill. His gaze was cold as he said slowly: “Sienna, don’t forget. You’re the one who provoked me first.” 3 He was right. Between us, it was indeed my lust that started it. Three months ago, celebrating my best friend’s birthday at a club. I rushed out and forgot my contacts. I mistook VIP Room 188 for 168, pushed the door open, said hi to everyone, and sat down. Coincidentally, right next to Sebastian. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye but said nothing. Seeing no reaction from him, the others were confused but moved on. “Heard there’s a ‘femme fatale’ in the city. Plays the field hard. She’s dated every man with a name in town.” “Oh? Must be a stunning beauty then?” “Never seen her, but heard her methods are legendary. Hooks a pinky and men fall for her.” I raised an eyebrow. I hooked Sebastian’s pinky through the wine glass. He spoke suddenly: “Watch your boundaries.” Everyone went silent. I held back a laugh. He looked over again: “And you. Had enough fun watching?” My best friend always said I used my beauty like a weapon. Even without makeup, I looked like a ripe peach waiting to be picked. Skin like porcelain, waist so slim. Under the dim lights. I turned my head, revealing a pale collarbone, looking fragile and pale. A flash of amazement crossed his eyes. Just as a tear fell. I whimpered and threw myself into Sebastian’s arms. “Holy sh*t!” Everyone in the room gasped. The next second. I stood up with red eyes and ran out of the room. Two hours later. A room card with a phone number was delivered to my hand. It all happened so naturally. I hid my identity and became Sebastian’s trophy girlfriend. He spent money; I enjoyed it. It felt amazing. Amazing enough that I almost forgot. In the world of the ultra-rich, there is no true heart. 4 Sebastian started a one-sided cold war. But too many men were willing to die for me. His little tantrum didn’t even make a ripple in my pond. I acted normal. When in a good mood, I posted an afternoon tea pic on Instagram. Sebastian liked it instantly. But within three seconds, he’d unlike it. So petty. Seven days later, my visa for the trip expired. The day I left the city, the sky was clear. I had no luggage and told no one. When the maid asked, I said I was going shopping. The car drove onto the highway, passing a giant LED billboard. It was scrolling through news of Sebastian’s “scandal.” After our unhappy parting, he hadn’t returned to the penthouse. But my phone kept getting notifications about him. Old clichés about finding a new love. I found it childish. I opened my phone. The chat was still stuck on yesterday. [Tomorrow night, 8 PM. The Harbor. I have something to say.] The next second. A notification popped up. [Breaking! Massive marriage proposal setup at the Harbor! The man is Sebastian Thorne!] My heart skipped a beat. I quickly turned off my phone. Close call! Almost caught feelings.

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