1 When my bestie Lexi got pregnant, she decided she wanted to keep the baby but ditch the dad. She made me register a burner account to pose as her secret lover and text her husband a picture of a positive pregnancy test: [Your wife is carrying my child. Divorce her.] But my hand slipped. I sent it to my husband—our marriage was purely a business merger, by the way. Just as I was about to hit “unsend,” I saw the comments scrolling across my vision like a Twitch chat. [The villainess thinks sending this by mistake will make the Hero jealous? She’s literally digging her own grave.] [Testing the Hero with her best friend’s pregnancy test? Aside from humiliating herself, what’s the point?] [Forget being pregnant with someone else’s kid—even if this side-chick had ten male strippers in the living room, the Hero wouldn’t even blink!] [He only married the villainess for the family merger. The Hero will always love the scholarship girl, the true Heroine!] [The Heroine is about to return from overseas! The villainess is gonna be crying and begging not to get divorced in five minutes!] I stared at the floating text, lost in thought. I casually opened an app and clicked on a $500 “VIP Wellness Package.” If that’s the case… I might as well order ten male models to go with it. The day Lexi found out she was pregnant, she grabbed my hand and sobbed. “I want to divorce him. He said he doesn’t like kids, and he’s still shady with his childhood sweetheart.” “But he refuses to sign the papers. You have to pretend to be my side-piece and text him. Make him think I’m cheating so he’ll let me go!” Lexi flew overseas to clear her head. I pulled out my dusty burner phone and fired off the text intended for her husband. Me: [My baby is carrying my child. Divorce her!] Attachment: [Photo of positive pregnancy test.] I was nervous. It was my first time pulling a stunt like this. Lexi’s husband is a notorious hothead CEO in our circle. Rumor has it he hates liars. I got a reply almost instantly: [?] Me: [Can’t you read English? She’s pregnant with my kid. We’ve been together for over a year. Be smart and sign the papers.] He replied instantly: [No divorce.] Me: [Fine, enjoy raising another man’s kid then.] I waited half an hour, but there was no further reply. I forwarded the screenshots to Lexi and headed home from work. As soon as I walked in and flipped on the lights, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Hayes was sitting on the sofa in total silence, his long legs crossed, his expression dark. Those pitch-black eyes swept over me, his thin lips pressed into a tight line. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. In the year Hayes and I had been married, he never came home before midnight. It was only 6:00 PM. What was he doing here? I opened my mouth to ask. But then, the comments started scrolling past my eyes again. [Is the villainess satisfied now? Using a fake pregnancy test to test Hayes? And pretending it was a wrong number? Does she really think the Hero cares?] [Aside from embarrassing herself, what did that accomplish?] [It accomplished something, lol. Now her reputation is cemented as a total slut!] Villainess? I’m the villainess? I sent the pregnancy test to the Hero… Hayes? Horrified, I whipped out my phone to check. That’s when I realized I had sent the text to Hayes. Panic set in. My hands shook as I texted Lexi: [Girl, I am dead meat. I didn’t send that text to your husband. I sent it to MINE!] “Who are you texting?” Hayes’ gloomy voice drilled into my ears. I took a deep breath. Watching his tall frame rise from the sofa, I was trembling. But I feigned indifference. “No one. Didn’t we agree when we got married not to interfere in each other’s private lives?” “I’m going to take a shower.” The moment I closed the bedroom door, I felt like I’d survived a near-death experience. I texted Lexi again: [I’ve decided to divorce him too. Let’s find a place to raise the baby together. You be the mom, I’ll be the dad.] Immediately, the comments started scrolling again. [This villainess is so boring. Honestly, even if she did have ten male models, the Hero wouldn’t care.] [He only married her for the business alliance. He’s still in love with the poor scholarship student, the Heroine!] [Bella is coming back to the US. The villainess is about to beg him not to leave her!] According to the comments, Hayes had been sponsoring the Heroine, Bella, since middle school. He spent millions on her education until she went abroad. But because this is a “Girlboss” novel, Bella wanted to be an independent woman. She went overseas to study and told Hayes not to be a simp and wait for her. One year ago, I got drunk and stumbled into Hayes’ hotel room. The next morning, the elders from both our families were banging on the door. Seeing the messy sheets, Hayes’ grandfather locked down the marriage immediately. [The villainess claims she walked into the wrong room drunk. LMAO. She totally set him up.] [Look at her acting innocent. She got what she wanted, forcing the Hero to marry her in front of everyone.] [That’s why the Hero hates coming home early.] [The villainess doesn’t know, but the Hero’s abs are reserved for the Heroine’s eyes and hands only!] I watched the text float by. I thought about how Hayes avoided me like the plague. If I got close, he’d frown and take three steps back. Since the wedding, aside from that night at the hotel… and that one time two months ago when I got drunk again… Unfortunately, I had no memory of either event. I could only fantasize about his abs in the dead of night based on blurry memories. Thinking about it made me bold. I opened a local service app. I bought the $500 VIP massage package. Then I ordered ten male escorts. It’s just abs. Whatever. Who doesn’t have them? 2 I finished my shower. Did my makeup. Put on a leather skirt, black stockings, and tied my hair in twin tails. Just as I pulled on my boots, my stomach lurched. I felt dizzy. Was I just too excited about the ten guys? Did the adrenaline cut off oxygen to my brain? I leaned against the wall. The comments appeared again. [Here she goes again. Faking morning sickness. So fake. She sees the Hero is home and just wants to throw herself at him.] [Ahhhh dammit, the Hero is actually walking over. The villainess is gonna seize the chance.] I struggled to lift my head. I saw Hayes walking toward me. He looked down at me from his height. “You okay?” “I’m… fine.” I covered my mouth, fighting the nausea, trying to dodge past him. But the dizziness hit hard. I blindly reached out, grabbing his tie, my hand landing on his abs. [I told you she was up to no good!] [Why is she grabbing his tie? That is such a blatant move.] [She’s touching his abs! Wait, why is her hand going lower? Is this premium content??] [She is such a faker! The Hero belongs to the Heroine!] The comments scrolled faster and faster. I gripped Hayes’ pants tightly. And then I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Hayes was sitting beside me, looking grim. The doctor, however, was beaming at me. “Mrs. He, you’re nine weeks pregnant. You need to rest more.” “If Old Man He finds out, he’ll be smiling ear to ear!” My jaw dropped. Pregnant? Am I pregnant? “Mrs. He, you look pale. Is something else wrong?” The doctor frowned and looked at Hayes. “Mr. He, your wife needs nutrition. You can’t just focus on work.” I glanced at Hayes. He was staring right at me. Our eyes met, and I felt guilty. That time two months ago… One shot, one kill? [The villainess is pregnant with the Hero’s kid? What about the Heroine’s baby? She’s flying back tonight!] [Don’t worry guys. She’s pregnant with the Hero’s kid, but in the Hero’s eyes, that’s the “wild man’s” baby from the text!] [Classic. The villainess played herself. Even if she confesses now, the Hero won’t believe her.] [She walked right into the line of fire to pave the way for the Heroine.] [It’s karma. A child conceived by drunk entrapment is just a bastard anyway.] Despair washed over me. Hayes didn’t say a word. The atmosphere in the room was suffocating. Until the doctor suggested calling Hayes’ grandfather. Hayes spoke slowly. “It’s only nine weeks. It’s not stable. Don’t tell Grandpa yet.” [Hahaha, the Hero said it’s not stable. Sounds like he wants to handle it himself.] [The Hero hates anyone touching him except the Heroine. Now the villainess is pregnant? She’s done for.] [Obviously. A woman who cuckolds the Hero will meet a terrible end.] [Does the villainess know the Hero is a total yandere? He likes keeping things in his basement… pools and plants… meant to lock her up and punish her.] 3 On the way home, I was a nervous wreck. I texted my bestie: [Lexi, I’m in deep trouble! Where are you? I’m coming to find you. Turn your phone on!!!] I sent message after message. I also Googled escape routes out of the country. As soon as Hayes’ car stopped at the villa, I jumped out without looking back, ran upstairs, opened my laptop, and started researching divorce procedures. After an hour of frantic research, Lexi finally called back. Her voice was raspy. “Harper, what kind of trouble?” I told her everything that had happened over the last two days. “I’m an architect, for God’s sake. After the divorce, we’ll go abroad. I’ll work hard to support you and the baby.” Lexi and I run in the same circles. We hated each other as kids. But in high school, when my family was on the verge of bankruptcy and I was being bullied, Lexi stood up for me. We’ve been inseparable ever since. “But… are you just going to give up on Hayes?” Lexi asked carefully. The comments rolled by. [The villainess is so stubborn. She loves the Hero to death but acts all high and mighty. Can she do anything besides fake it?] [She’s liked the Hero since high school. How could she give up so easily?] I gripped my phone tightly. My lips trembled. I like Hayes. I really like him. The summer of our senior year, the class monitor pushed me into a drainage ditch. He sneered, “I used to chase you because your family had money, and you acted so stuck up. Now you’re just a broke dog. You dare reject me?” He tried to force me to be his girlfriend, threatening to leave me to rot in the ditch if I refused. Hayes showed up just in time. He fished me out, soaking wet and smelling of sewage. He didn’t cringe at the stench. He went with me to the police. He demanded the bully apologize to me in front of the whole school. When I was at my most helpless and depressed, he appeared like a beam of light. I fell for him instantly. “We slept together. I got what I wanted.” I forced a smile. “But I love you best, babe. Being with you makes me happy. We’ll run away together, take the kid to the grocery store… it’ll be awesome!” I got more agitated as I spoke. “Unlike Hayes. I never even see him. Handsome face, nice body—useless if he’s never there.” I let out a cold laugh. “Twice in a whole year. Looked good, didn’t work good! I’m divorcing him immediately!” Crash. Something shattered behind me. I turned around. Hayes was standing in the doorway. A bowl of chicken soup lay smashed on the floor. Glass shards and golden broth were splattered everywhere, staining his expensive suit. “Hello? Harper? Why did you stop talking? What happened? Is it Hayes? Did he hit you? I’m coming back right now!” Lexi sounded panicked on the phone. My heart raced. “I’m fine. Don’t come.” I hung up quickly and shoved the phone in my pocket. Hayes remained in the doorway, frozen in the same posture. His thin lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “You want a divorce? “Don’t even dream about it.” I could hear his teeth grinding. He turned and called down to the housekeeper. “The master bedroom is dirty. Clean it up.” The housekeeper looked heartbroken at the spilled soup. “Oh my goodness, Sir, how could you be so careless? You simmered that soup for an hour! Was it too hot? “I told you I would bring it up, but you insisted on doing it yourself. Such a waste of your effort! Look, your hand is blistered.” The housekeeper’s rambling snapped me out of my trance. Hayes made the soup himself? [He made soup? The Hero is interesting. Probably wanted to slip some abortion pills in there, right?] [Hahaha, “The master bedroom is dirty.” That is such a burn on the villainess!] [The villainess should just leave sensibly. Don’t ruin the Hero’s night picking up the Heroine!] I trembled as I read the comments. The next second, Hayes got a call. His tone returned to normal. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” He hung up and glanced at me. As he turned to leave, my anger flared. I stepped over the broken glass and blocked his path. “Did I say you could leave? Since you heard everything… “The divorce agreement is being drafted. Sign it, then you can go.” 4 The housekeeper’s eyes went wide. She swept up the last shard and practically bolted from the room, closing the door behind her. “Why?” “Because you managed twice in a year.” I mimicked the tone of a wicked novel villainess and sneered. “Other men do more than that in a single night.” […What is she doing? Provoking him? Does she actually want a divorce?] [LMAO, she’s talking trash just to make him mad so he won’t go pick up Bella!] [Trying to make our Heroine wait at the airport all night? Such a toxic villainess!] [She just wants more intimacy! Hero, don’t fall for it!] [Wait… why is the Hero taking his clothes off???] Hayes threw his soup-stained jacket on the floor. His knuckles white, he undid the top two buttons of his shirt. He stepped toward me. “If that’s the reason…” He looked up, grabbing my wrist. “I can fix that.” 8:00 PM. I hadn’t been drinking this time. Neither had Hayes. Veins popped on his forehead. His hands braced on either side of me, his breath scorching hot. “Harper Hu.” He said my full name. Kisses rained down on me. [What is happening? What kind of weak Hero is this? One provocation and he folds?] [Relax guys. I bet a dollar he won’t go all the way. Men get heated, but his heart belongs to Bella! He’ll stop.] [Possibility: Since the baby is nine weeks, maybe he wants to… get rid of it naturally.] [True! No man wants to be divorced. If anyone is leaving, the Hero does the dumping.] My palms were sweating. My hand drifted toward his abs. The moment I touched him, Hayes groaned. And sure enough, he stopped. Arrow on the string, but he didn’t fire. “I have something to do tonight. Be good and don’t provoke me. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear what you said earlier.” He frowned, an unreadable emotion flashing through his eyes before disappearing. So… Even in this situation, Hayes could slam on the brakes. Instant cooldown. His phone rang again. A woman’s voice came through: “Hayes, I’ve been waiting at the airport for an hour. Are you coming? How much longer do I have to wait?” I recognized the voice. It was Bella, the Heroine. “On my way.” Hayes put his phone away, glanced at my suitcase, and ordered the butler: “Until I return, no one leaves this house.” It was pouring rain outside. Hayes rushed off. I watched his back, my heart sour. The comments were scrolling furiously: [LOL, the Hero cooled off. Told you he had no interest in the villainess.] [The villainess only got in because of her family status. If our Bella came from money, the villainess wouldn’t stand a chance.] [Don’t worry, the Hero is only interested in Bella! He’s rushing over there to get some real action!] I met Bella in freshman year. She was Hayes’ junior in college. She was different from us. She came from a rural village and worked incredibly hard. Every step Bella took was solid. Top of her class every year. Full scholarship, yet she still worked part-time. Brilliant and focused. plenty of guys chased her, but she only had eyes for Hayes. She said more than once in front of her suitors, “You know Hayes? He’s my standard.” The rumors about Bella and Hayes were everywhere on campus. [Bella got into Ivy League for Hayes, didn’t you know? Hayes has sponsored her since middle school. They are super close.] I secretly investigated Bella. I learned that due to a family feud in the He Group, Hayes’ father had failed, and Hayes was exiled to a remote mountain town during middle school. They called it “character building.” In reality, they wanted to make sure his family never recovered. That’s where Hayes met Bella. The comments said they saved each other. They met at their lowest points. So the first thing Hayes did when he reclaimed his power was sponsor Bella. In college, they worked on patents together. Co-authored papers. Until Bella went abroad. Hayes’ heart seemed to die. He did nothing but study and run lab experiments. Focusing on his career. His heart died. And mine died with it. I hated the idea of being the “other woman.” So I started online dating. Looking at random guys’ abs. I never expected that after graduation, I’d get drunk, mistake Hayes for… well, Hayes, and accidentally sleep with him. My phone screen lit up. Hayes sent a message to my burner account: [One million. Is that enough?]

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Chapter 1 The day after the stick turned pink, Mark’s entire family descended on our house. They came bearing casseroles and unsolicited advice. They sat there, lecturing me on how to be the perfect incubator. During the chaos, Mark’s nephew, a brat named Tyler, took a shine to my dog, Buddy. He wouldn’t let go of him, squeezing him tight. He looked up at me and asked, “How old is the doggy?” I smiled, trying to be patient. “If you do the math, he’s your big brother. He’s fifteen years old.” Mark’s mom, Brenda, scowled immediately. “Don’t talk nonsense,” she snapped. “Comparing a beast to my grandson? You’ll curse the baby to come out looking like a mutt.” I bit my tongue. After lunch, I was drained. I made myself an iced latte and retreated to the bedroom to recharge. They chatted downstairs for a while. Eventually, I heard the front door close. Silence. But something felt off. Buddy usually hated when people left. Normally, I’d hear him barking at the door, or he’d come trotting in to nudge my hand for a treat. Today? Dead silence. I got up, calling his name. Nothing. I checked the living room. Empty. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I rushed to the window and looked down at the driveway. There was Tyler, sitting in the backseat of his dad’s SUV. He was holding Buddy. My blood ran cold. I tore open the window and screamed. “Put my dog down!” They all looked up. Brenda waved dismissively. She signaled her other son, Hank, to drive. “Go, go!” she mouthed. Hank actually started the engine. I didn’t think. I just reacted. I grabbed my half-finished latte and hurled it out the window with everything I had. It exploded against Hank’s windshield. A creamy brown mess blinded the glass instantly. He slammed on the brakes. Mark, standing in the driveway, looked up at me in horror. “Are you crazy?!” he yelled. I sprinted downstairs and out the front door. Brenda started yelling at me, but I ignored her. I pounded on the car window. “Unlock the door! Give me my dog!” Brenda grabbed my arm. “The kid likes the dog, just let him have it!” She looked at me like I was the unreasonable one. “You had your fun with it. You’re pregnant now, why do you need a filthy animal?” “He is fifteen years old!” I screamed. “He is not a toy for a child!” Inside the car, Hank looked at his mom, exasperated. He cracked the window just an inch. “Ma, get a rag or something for the glass. Get her to calm down.” That was it. I snapped. I took my phone and smashed it against the glass. Over. And over. And over again. “Put the dog down! He is mine! You have no right!” Spiderwebs of cracks spread across the window. Mark rushed over, gripping my arm hard enough to bruise. “Have you lost your mind?” he hissed. His face was twisted in embarrassment. “You’re making a scene in front of my family.” “I’m the one making a scene?” I was shaking violently. “You’re my husband, and you let them steal my dog behind my back?” “I Googled it!” Mark yelled back. “Toxoplasmosis! Dog hair! It’s bad for the baby! I’m doing this for our child!” “Shut up! Your mouth is filthier than any dog!” Hank, worried about his precious car, finally unlocked the doors. I ripped the back door open. Tyler was clutching Buddy, wailing at the top of his lungs. “I want the doggy! Auntie, give him to me!” Chapter 2 “No!” I reached for Buddy. But the kid turned his back, shielding the dog. He looked at his parents, screaming. “I want it!” Hank’s wife, Sarah, was usually the reasonable one. She sighed. “Tyler, give the dog back to Auntie. Mommy will buy you a puppy tomorrow.” “I don’t want a puppy! I want this one!” Tyler shrieked. Brenda stepped in, clutching her chest. “You’re making my grandson cry! You’re a grown woman, fighting a child?” I swallowed my rage. I held out my hand. “Give him to me. I won’t ask again.” Tyler was sobbing, hiccupping. Buddy, poor old Buddy, licked the tears off the boy’s face. He didn’t know he was a hostage. Then, the kid snapped. He didn’t hand Buddy over. He screamed, “Fine! Take him!” And he slammed Buddy onto the asphalt. My heart stopped. I watched my fifteen-year-old dog hit the ground. He yelped. A sound of pure, sharp pain. He tried to stand, his back legs giving out, whimpering. I lost it. I grabbed Tyler by the collar and slapped him across the face. Hard. The silence was deafening. Mark stared at me, mouth open. Brenda raised her hand to strike me back. But she froze. Not because she respected me. But because of the baby in my belly. I scooped up Buddy. He was trembling, twitching in pain. Everyone rushed to comfort Tyler. Mark was cooing at him, promising him Lego sets, video games, anything to stop the tears. No one looked at the dog. I walked back into the house, tears streaming down my face. Buddy’s breathing was shallow. He was hurting so bad. I grabbed my car keys. I needed to get him to the vet immediately. Mark stormed in, blocking the doorway. “You are going to apologize to Tyler. Right now.” I looked at him, clutching my keys. I felt nothing but cold hate. “You embarrassed my mom, you hit a child… how are we supposed to have family dinners after this?” he ranted. “We aren’t,” I said calmly. “I’m taking Buddy to the vet. Then I’m going to my parents’.” “I’ll see you in court.” “I’m filing for divorce. I’m keeping the kid, and he’s taking my last name.” Mark froze. He looked like I’d spoken a foreign language. I adjusted my grip on Buddy and moved to the door. Mark grabbed my purse, ripping it off my shoulder. “Put the dog down. Go to your room.” Chapter 3 I looked at Mark, and I felt sick. Does he think he’s some alpha male in a movie? It’s funny how love dies. It doesn’t take years. It takes one second of clarity. “Keep the purse,” I said. I opened the door, holding Buddy. “You’re divorcing me over a dog?” Mark screamed. His face turned purple. “When I got 100% on my spelling test in third grade, my mom got me this dog,” I said, my voice steady. “He was there through high school. Through college. He’s been with me for fifteen years.” “I’ve known you for four.” “You’re being dramatic!” “I was standing alone against five people, and you sided with them.” “I want a man who protects his wife. You’re not him.” His jaw clenched. “Fine. Divorce. But you’re paying me back for the wedding.” “Check the joint account. I already transferred my share out.” He checked his phone. His face twisted. “You really are doing this over a mutt.” Suddenly, Mark lunged. He ripped Buddy out of my arms. And, just like his nephew, he smashed him onto the floor. Buddy screamed. He tried to crawl away, his little legs scrambling on the hardwood. But he couldn’t stand. “Get away from him!” I shoved Mark, desperate to reach my dog. Mark grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. “I’m done with your princess attitude!” “You want a divorce? Let’s make it worth it!” He dragged me into the kitchen. He grabbed a chef’s knife from the block. “Are you going to kill me?” I gasped. “I don’t hit women,” he sneered. He dragged me toward Buddy. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced my chest. “Buddy! Run!” I screamed. Buddy always listened. But he was old. And he was broken. He dragged his body toward the door, whining. Mark let go of me to close the distance. He caught up to the dog in two steps. And brought the knife down. Blood sprayed across the floor. Buddy’s body seized. Chapter 4 Mark didn’t stop. He hacked at the dog. Over. And over. “This is for your screwed-up priorities!” “This is for hitting a kid!” “This is for threatening divorce!” I watched my best friend being butchered. He wasn’t dead yet. He was suffering. “Mark, I’m going to kill you!” I grabbed a heavy wooden chair from the dining table. I smashed it over Mark’s head. Wood splintered. Blood trickled down Mark’s forehead. But he didn’t drop the knife. His eyes were wide, manic, red-rimmed. He raised the blade again. He was going to chop Buddy into pieces. I remembered my self-defense class. Go for the soft spots. I gathered every ounce of strength I had. And I kicked him squarely between the legs. Mark’s eyes bulged. He dropped the knife, clutching his groin. He collapsed to the floor, making a sound like a dying radiator. Just then, Brenda rushed in. She saw her son on the floor, bleeding. She screamed, shoving me aside. “You ruined it! You ruined everything!” she wailed, cradling Mark’s bleeding head. I crawled over to Buddy. He was quiet now. He was just… a pile of fur and blood. Mark, still gasping in pain, reached out. He grabbed Buddy’s severed head. He threw it at my feet. “Welcome to the real world, Princess,” he wheezed. “Nobody’s going to baby you anymore.” I fell to my knees. I picked up the head. It felt so light. I remembered when he used to tackle me in the yard, licking my face until I couldn’t breathe from laughing. I remembered carrying him when his arthritis got bad. “You’re getting heavy, old man,” I used to say. Now… nothing. I walked out. Mark couldn’t stop me. The kick had been too hard. He needed an ambulance. I drove to my parents’ house. Buddy was in a plastic bag on the passenger seat. On my wedding day, Buddy had sat in the limo with me.

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Right after high school graduation, the class mean girl posted my pregnancy test results in the group chat. “Trailer trash is always going to be trailer trash. Selling yourself the second you turn eighteen? Do you even know who the baby daddy is? I bet it’s some wrinkly old sugar daddy.” Everyone jumped on the bandwagon, mocking me. Someone even dug up a photo of me on my knees in the mud, digging up sweet potatoes, looking like a mess. Just as the roasting was at its peak, a message popped up from the class’s most untouchable, old-money heir. “I’m the father. Anyone got a problem with that?” Chapter 1 I was shoveling fertilizer in the garden when I gagged. The smell was awful, so at first, I thought it was just the fumes. But later, while feeding Nana her lunch, the nausea hit me again like a freight train. Nana looked at me, her eyes clouded with age but still sharp as a tack. “Savannah, are you pregnant?” Her gaze was like a knife, cutting straight through my secrets. “You went down the wrong path, didn’t you?” My heart stuttered. I swallowed hard. “Yes.” A few months ago, Nana went into heart failure. I was broke. Desperate. So I took night shifts at a dive bar downtown. That’s where I ran into Sebastian Sterling, the golden boy of our senior class. He’d been drugged. His usually pale, aristocratic face was flushed crimson, and he was delirious. He grabbed my hand, trying to pull me under his jacket. Seeing the school’s “High Mountain Flower”—the untouchable Sebastian—drowning in lust like that… my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. I hesitated for exactly one second. Then I dragged him into the employee changing room. Everyone else was working the floor. It was just us in the back. We spent half the night tangled together. When I left, I wrote a note. I figured, hush money. Even fifty grand would save my life. I didn’t expect him to wake up the next day and act like it never happened. It made me panic, so I tracked him down to ask for the cash. I remember his eyes. Ice cold. Like he was looking at garbage. He just said, “Here’s a hundred grand. Don’t cause trouble.” Then he dismissed me like I didn’t exist. I took the money and ran to the hospital to pay Nana’s bills. In the chaos, I forgot the Plan B pill. By the time I remembered, my period was long gone. I bought a stick from the pharmacy. Two pink lines. I was torn. On one hand, the Sterling family is elite. Old money. Their threshold is too high for a girl like me. On the other hand, this was a lottery ticket. A chance to rewrite my destiny. I didn’t want to fold my hand just yet. I dragged it out. My belly started to show. I wrapped it tight with bandages just to walk across the stage at graduation, but I passed out from exhaustion and ended up in the ER. That’s when Tiffany, the school’s self-proclaimed queen bee, snapped the photo and blasted it to the world. Chapter 2 Sebastian showed up the next day. He wasn’t alone. His grandmother, the Matriarch of the Sterling empire, was with him. Sebastian was stone-faced. His eyes flickered over my stomach, then dropped to the floor. I couldn’t read him at all. His grandmother, Mrs. Sterling, was surprisingly gentle. She asked my age, about my parents, my family situation. When I told her honestly that my parents were dead and it was just Nana and me, the old lady teared up. “Poor child.” She offered to take me in. I told her I couldn’t leave Nana, who was bedridden. She immediately arranged for Nana to go to the Sterling family’s private care facility. “To be honest, a family like ours doesn’t usually welcome outsiders,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “But that baby is the first of the Sterling next generation. And you are Sebastian’s first woman. We can’t just leave you out here in the sticks.” On the ride back to their estate, Sebastian kept his eyes closed. He didn’t say a word. I couldn’t tell if he liked me or hated me. But I got my answer soon enough. He threw my bag onto the sofa and told me I was sleeping there. Yeah. He definitely hated me. The Sterling mansion was massive. His bedroom suite alone was split into three rooms. He put me in the smallest one. When I looked up, I saw a framed photo of a stunning ballerina on the wall. Sebastian shoved his hands in his pockets. “Pretty, right? I’ve been in love with her for years.” He looked down at me with a faint sneer in his eyes. I lowered my head, stealing another glance at the photo. Elegant. Swan-like. Her fingers looked like porcelain. No wonder he looked at me like I was dirt. Chapter 3 I didn’t interact with Sebastian much. Even though we were classmates for three years, our relationship was limited to me collecting his homework. He was rich, a genius, always surrounded by simps. I’d snatch his notebook and run, keeping my head down. Even being that quick, I still got roasted. “Savannah, stop being so thirsty. Stop trying to seduce him.” “Her family is dirt poor, she’s practically selling herself. Don’t let her taint our Sebastian.” Small towns are vicious. Someone had seen me helping Sebastian into the back room that night at the bar. Rumors spread that I was selling my body for cash. But nobody guessed who the guy was. I’d catch Sebastian’s eye from across the classroom. Silence. I was immune to the slut-shaming by then. I never thought I’d actually be living with him. Even if we were sleeping rooms apart. He slept like a corpse. Face up, hands folded on his chest. Like a robot. I couldn’t sleep. I turned to look at him. “Savannah, stop moving.” “I didn’t move.” “You did. Your breathing is too loud.” “Sorry.” He didn’t speak again. His breathing evened out. I’d had insomnia for years, but somehow, listening to him, I drifted off. That night, the nightmares came back. My mother’s screams. My father’s roaring. The flash of the knife. Chapter 4 When I woke up, Sebastian was already gone. He didn’t wake me. I couldn’t find the guest bath, so I had to use his. When I went downstairs, the ballerina from the photo was sitting at the dining table, sipping milk like royalty. Seeing me, she flashed a sweet smile. “Oh, this must be Sebastian’s little friend. She’s cute.” Fairies really are nicer than humans. I’ve spent my life toiling in the sun. I am definitely not “cute.” Sebastian sat next to her. I learned her name was Mia. Principal dancer for a top European ballet company. They grew up together. To the world, she was his “big sister” figure. But I knew the truth. Sebastian was down bad for her. His room was a shrine to her. Being loved like that… must be nice. I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. After breakfast, Mrs. Sterling sat me down. She said she was speaking for Sebastian’s mother. The deal: Sebastian is eighteen. He isn’t getting married. Especially not to me. The baby will be born and raised as his sibling. And I? I get a payout. A villa in the city. And a nine-figure sum in the bank account. If I wanted, the Sterlings would send me abroad to study. The condition: I can never see the child again. As she laid this out, Sebastian sat nearby, flicking his Zippo lighter open and closed, watching me with that same mocking smile. I sighed softly. I nodded. “Okay. I agree.” The lighter in Sebastian’s hand stopped spinning.

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My boyfriend stormed out again. The reason? I worked late and didn’t scoop the cat litter the second I walked in. This time, I didn’t run after him. Suddenly, a stream of floating text—like live comments on a Twitch stream—started scrolling across my vision. 【What is wrong with the FL (Female Lead)? The ML (Male Lead) is standing right outside. He didn’t even push the elevator button; he’s waiting for her to chase him!】 【The ML totally noticed she has low blood sugar just now. If she just opens the door, he’ll definitely come back and cook her something delicious. He won’t hesitate!】 【The ML is just super insecure, that’s why he’s throwing a tantrum about the litter box! Actually, all he needs is an “I love you” from the FL and he’d walk through fire for her. Who wouldn’t love a man like that?】 【FL, hurry up and comfort him! The ML is about to cry!】 【Yeah, he regretted it the moment he ran out. He’s probably eaten up with guilt right now, scratching at the walls. Boohoo, this is so angsty!】 I was hesitating, hand hovering over the doorknob, when my phone buzzed. It was a text from my boyfriend, Liam. [Liam: Chloe, let’s break up!] [Liam: Move out before I get back!] My heart seized, and my eyes instantly stung with tears. [Chloe: Okay.] 1 I put my phone away, wiped my tears, and dragged my suitcase out of the closet. The floating comments went wild. 【Omg, the ML is just being awkward! He’s dying to come back and hug her, but he’s stubborn and has a toxic mouth. Saying “break up” is just his way of showing insecurity!】 【Exactly! His parents divorced when he was a kid and both remarried quickly. He has abandonment issues! The FL knows this! Why is she actually packing? Girl, don’t! He loves you so much, how will he live if you leave?】 【That trash mouth of his! You can’t believe what he says when he’s angry. Just open the door, he’ll come wagging his tail back to you. Don’t pack, what will he do without you?】 【No one in this world loves you more than he does. You guys survived high school, went through four years of college, and finally graduated. You’re his whole life! If you leave, what happens to Liam? And what about Jelly?】 I started folding clothes, forcing myself to ignore the barrage of text floating in the air. I’ve lost count of how many times this has happened. Every time he says “break up,” he demands I move out. And every time we make up, he acts cute, pouts, and tells me he didn’t mean it. I remember the first time Liam kicked me out. I was terrified. We were supposed to go on a trip the next day, so I worked overtime to hand off all my projects properly. I wanted to enjoy the vacation stress-free. But Liam felt I didn’t care about the trip because I got home past 11 PM. He didn’t listen to my explanation. He didn’t care that I hadn’t eaten dinner. He shoved a suitcase into my hands and slammed the door in my face. I stood there for half the night, starving. It was winter. I didn’t even have my coat. I was shivering violently in the hallway. Liam never opened the door. If a neighbor hadn’t found me passed out from hypoglycemia and banged on the door to wake Liam up, who knows what would have happened? Liam was scared to death that time. When I woke up, he swore up and down: “Chloe, I love you so much.” “If I say hurtful things when I’m mad, please promise not to take them seriously, okay?” “You know I’m insecure. As long as you give me enough security, I won’t get mad anymore.” I believed him. So, every time we fought after that, and every time he told me to get out, I told myself he was just angry. I knew he was awkward. I knew he was insecure. So, I made him the center of my universe. But now? I’m tired. Eight years. Eight years of bowing my head, of apologizing, of being kicked out every time he had a mood swing. I am truly. Exhausted. 2 Packing didn’t take long. I made myself a bowl of instant ramen. I felt a tug on my pant leg. I looked down. It was Jelly. As soon as I crouched down, Jelly jumped into my lap. Jelly was originally a cat belonging to one of Liam’s junior classmates, a girl named Bella. She got tired of raising it after less than two weeks. Liam brought the cat home, and it became my responsibility. Scooping litter, vet visits, vaccines, deworming—it was all on me. If I ever slipped up, Liam would look at me coldly. “If it wasn’t because you liked it, why would I have brought Jelly home?” “Chloe, when did you become so irresponsible?” And coincidentally, this breakup was because I hadn’t changed the litter fast enough, and the apartment smelled a bit. While eating my noodles, I checked my phone. I saw that Bella, the “junior classmate,” had posted on her social media. [QAQ, my poor homeless senior is so pitiful. I guess I’ll reluctantly take him in. (๑>ᴗ<๑)] The photo was half of Liam's face, holding a drink at a bar. 【The ML is so pitiful. Look, he’s drunk but his eyes are glued to his phone. He’s still thinking about the FL!!】 【Girl, don't be mad! He only went to the Junior’s place to make you jealous. He doesn't like her at all, she’s just a tool to him!】 【Yeah, look at his phone, he’s staring holes into it. If you send one text right now, he’ll instantly turn back into your puppy dog.】 Before I could finish reading the floating comments, a video came through from an unknown number. In the video, Liam was leaning back, eyes closed, resting his head on a woman's chest. The woman asked, "Liam, if you sleep at my place tonight, won't your girl dump you?" Liam let out a cold sneer. "I'll just freeze her out for two days. She'll be begging to carry me back home in a sedan chair." The woman laughed, her voice trembling with amusement. "So she's a simp then? The kind you can't get rid of even if you try?" I held my breath. Then I heard Liam give a low, "Yeah." The video ended. I stared at the ramen in front of me. I couldn't take another bite. So. The heartache I felt for him, the step-by-step retreat I made for his "security"... In his eyes, and in everyone else's eyes... It just made me a doormat. A simp who comes when called and leaves when dismissed. I looked at the cup of noodles. Cold, with a layer of congealed grease floating on top. Disgusting. 3 Eight years of a relationship, boiled down to one small suitcase. "Meow... meow..." Jelly seemed to sense something and bit tugged at my jeans. I hesitated for a second. Considering I’ve been the one caring for Jelly for the past year, and knowing Liam wouldn't want the hassle, I picked the cat up. We were leaving together. It was 2 AM when I checked into a hotel. Early the next morning, I opened Zillow and started scrolling. Within an hour, I found a small studio apartment near my company. It was tiny, but the commute was practically zero. When we first graduated, we didn't live there. Liam loved to sleep in. Every morning was a battle to wake him up. He’d been written up twice for being late. I was the one who suggested we move closer to his company. Back then, I thought love could conquer all. As long as it was convenient for Liam, a one-hour commute for me was nothing. Later, when his startup succeeded and he bought a place, it was also near his office. We lived there for three years. Now that I’ve moved out, I can finally save those two hours of my life. I moved into the studio that same day. "Chloe, aren't you heading out? The subway is going to stop running soon," a coworker reminded me as I worked late. I looked at the unfinished report and shook my head. "I moved nearby. I'll head back after I finish this." "Whoa! Chloe, you finally came to your senses and moved?" My colleagues had always thought it was insane for me to waste two hours a day commuting. Inconvenient and a waste of life. Hearing I’d moved closer, everyone dragged me out for late-night drinks to celebrate. I went home and crashed, dead to the world. The next day, right after work, I got a text from one of Liam's friends. [Sister-in-law, did you and Liam fight? He’s at my place acting like a drunken maniac.] I paused. [Not a fight. A breakup.] He immediately sent a voice note back, his tone dripping with condescension. 4 "Chloe, come on, that’s not cool. You know how he is. In all these years, how many times has he said 'break up'? Has he ever meant it?" "You used to be so understanding. Why are you being so stubborn this time?" "Don't say I didn't warn you. If you come over now and say a few nice words, he’ll cool off and go home with you." "If you don't show up, and he decides to make the breakup real, don't come crying to me later." It was laughable. Even his friends were convinced I couldn't live without him. Before I could reply, the call ended. A second later, a location pin popped up. I blocked the number. Liam's friends had always treated me with indifference anyway. Since Liam and I are done, there’s no need to keep his friends in my contacts. 【Why does the FL look actually angry? The ML had his friend call on purpose to give her an out! Couples don't hold grudges overnight!】 【Exactly! The ML is just awkward. He loves her to death, otherwise, why would he give up his dream university to go to the same one as her? Sigh, our girl is just triggered. The ML has puked three times already, he’s gonna hurt his stomach.】 【Am I the only one who thinks the ML is just toxic? Why is it that when a girl acts up she's crazy, but when a guy acts up he’s just 'insecure'? It’s speechless behavior.】 I saw the last comment and couldn't help but smile bitterly. Exactly. Liam is toxic. In the beginning, he was okay. But ever since he "sacrificed" his dream school for me, he became impossible. Every time we fought, if I didn't apologize immediately, his friends would call. They’d guilt-trip me about how much he gave up for me. Do you have a conscience? they’d ask. But when we were filling out college applications, I told him repeatedly that I didn't mind a long-distance relationship. I told him that even if we were thousands of miles apart, he was still the most important person to me. But Liam stubbornly applied to the same school as me. When I asked him to confirm if it was truly what he wanted, he stayed silent. Then, the day after the deadline, he got blackout drunk. His friends called me then, too. Calling me selfish. Saying I forced him. That was the first time I realized his "dream school" wasn't the one we went to. Back then, I was moved by his "sacrifice." I rushed over and took care of him. But over the years, whenever he was unhappy, his entourage would remind me of my debt to him. It felt like because he gave up a college for me, I owed him my entire life. "Chloe, let's go, time to eat." 5 We worked late again, too late for delivery. We decided to hit a nearby bistro. I used to skip these gatherings because I was terrified of missing the last train. Now, knowing my apartment was a ten-minute walk away, I said yes. We were a group of five or six. After dinner, we decided to hit a bar. As soon as we sat down, I noticed the table next to us was loud. I glanced over instinctively. It was Liam and his crew. And, of course, his "junior," Bella, was there too. "Liam, a bet is a bet! You have to kiss someone here for three minutes! Hurry up, hahahaha!" Truth or Dare. My glance happened to lock with Liam’s. I didn't linger. I looked away immediately. Liam seemed to pause. A moment later, he replied slowly, "Fine." Cheers erupted from his table. "I didn't think Liam would actually play along! So, who are you picking? Hahaha!" Someone teased, "We're all dudes here, surely he picks Bella? Unless he wants you?" "Oh, stop it, you guys are annoying!" Bella covered her face, acting shy. "Come on, Liam, pay up. Pick someone now or I'm volunteering myself!" "Hahahaha, Liam's virtue is at stake!" The noise from the next table got louder. The floating comments started pleading again. 【FL, what are you doing? Don't you see the ML staring at you? He doesn't want to kiss anyone else, his brain is full of you right now!】 【He hasn't been home for days, he doesn't even know you moved out! He’s waiting for you to bow your head. Don't be stubborn now! If he gets pushed into a corner and actually kisses the side-chick, what then?】 【He’s not talking because he’s waiting for your reaction! Just look at him! You don't even have to go over there, just make eye contact and he’ll come over like a good boy. He won't look at anyone else!】 I picked up my drink and took a sip. As I put the glass down, my hand slipped, and the drink spilled across the table. "Oh no, Chloe, are you okay?" A colleague flagged down a waiter to clean it up. The commotion obviously caught the attention of the next table. The rowdy group went silent. Several pairs of eyes turned to me. Bella stood up aggressively and marched right up to my face.

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When I dumped Chase, he asked me why. “Because you never say ‘no’ to the girls chasing you.” He looked at me in disbelief. “That’s it?” I nodded. “That’s it.” 1 Chase was born with God-tier genetics. Back in kindergarten, whenever we played house, he was the groom. And there were always a dozen girls fighting to be his bride. In high school, even the baggy gym uniforms and the mandatory short haircuts couldn’t hide it. If anything, the lack of styling just proved his face was flawless. There are about 180 school days in a year. For 180 days, his locker was stuffed with love notes. The other 185 days were quiet only because school was out. If he so much as whispered “I’m thirsty” on the football field, a dozen bottles of Gatorade and water would magically appear in front of him. Even after he had a girlfriend—me—he wasn’t technically single anymore, but the girls kept throwing themselves at him. And Chase? He never rejected them. Free breakfast, homemade cookies, gifts—he took it all. If a girl asked for his Snap or number, he gave it. At first, I thought he was just being a gentleman. You know, trying not to embarrass them publicly. Until I realized he was interacting with them on Instagram, replying to their stories. He’d do all the “little favors” they whined about—carrying their bags, opening water bottles, even tying their shoes. It felt like I was in a polyamorous relationship without my consent. Like I was sharing a boyfriend. I thought maybe he just didn’t get it. I told him those were things you only do for your girlfriend. And what did Chase say? “It’s just a kind gesture.” “I was just helping out, it’s not a big deal.” Then he gaslit me: “June, don’t be so cold. Why do you have to be so toxic like everyone else?” Was I the toxic one? I didn’t know the answer then. Maybe I wasn’t wrong, and Chase wasn’t wrong. Maybe we just weren’t reading the same book. So, the day after graduation, I asked to break up. 2 Chase froze. A flicker of disbelief crossed his eyes. “You’re dumping me over that?” “Yes,” I answered firmly. Chase stared at me for three solid seconds before letting out a cocky laugh. “Babe, if you’re jealous, just say you’re jealous. Don’t joke about breaking up.” I understood why he didn’t believe me. Everyone thought I must have saved a country in my past life to grow up next door to Chase Sterling. And that I’d won the Powerball when we finally got together. I remember the day it happened. We were clearing out a mountain of love letters from his locker. He looked at me with genuine curiosity and asked: “So many people are chasing me. What about you?” “June, do you want to confess your feelings to me, too?” Chase was confident. He didn’t ask if I liked him. He asked if I wanted the honor of confessing. A lot of girls liked him. I was one of them. But back then, I hadn’t planned on confessing. Yet, when he asked, I looked at his face and, like I was possessed, I nodded. Chase smiled, his eyes crinkling in that way that made stars explode in my stomach. Dazzling. Blinding. “Cool. I guess I’ll marry you someday. My mom likes you anyway.” I looked like a good girl, soft-spoken and well-behaved. Adults loved me. Chase’s mom, Mrs. Sterling, practically considered me a daughter. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive. So, nobody believed I was serious about the breakup. They thought I was throwing a tantrum, playing hard to get. Chase’s best friend leaned in, grinning. “Yo, Chase, since the wifey is acting up, why don’t you send me the contact for that hottie you added yesterday?” Hearing that, Chase was even more convinced I was just jealous. He pulled out his phone and AirDropped the contact to his buddy, showing me the screen as he did it. “Happy now?” I didn’t answer his question. instead, I asked, “What’s her name?” “Ivy,” Chase said without thinking. “Ivy Summers.” I smiled. “And that is exactly why we’re breaking up.” The air went still. After a long pause, Chase scoffed, a sneer curling his lip. “Fine. Break up.” “June, don’t you come crawling back crying.” 3 News of our breakup hit the group chats like a bomb. Girls were practically lining up to shoot their shot, hoping to be the rebound. My phone blew up too. Some asking for tea, some warning me not to be a crazy ex, some even asking if I was selling any of Chase’s stuff. It was so ridiculous I didn’t reply to a single DM. I didn’t expect someone to actually show up at my gated community. I didn’t see Chase, but I ran right into her. She was gorgeous. Pale skin, stunning face, legs that went on for days. She was wearing a tiny crop top and skirt combo that screamed “I’m the main character.” “Hey,” she called out. “I’m Ivy. Can I get your WeChat or number?” Ivy was an art student. I’d only heard her name, never seen her in person. “Sorry, I don’t add strangers.” Ivy clicked her tongue impatiently. “Then take me inside to find Chase.” I ignored her completely. I walked through the security gate without looking back, leaving her shouting behind me. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher messaged us to come to school to finalize our college lists. Chase sat right in front of me. As soon as the teacher stepped out, his desk was swarmed. “Chase, which city are you going to?” “Chase, what school did you pick?” “Chase, I’ll go wherever you go. Be my boyfriend?” Three or four girls were practically sitting on his lap. He spun his pen, looking bored. “NYU. Stern School of Business.” Suddenly, a hand reached over and snatched the form off my desk. “Oh wow, June. Copying Chase’s application? How desperate.” Ivy was there. She smirked. ” saying you want to break up, but your actions scream ‘clinger.’ You really are a piece of work.” I snatched my paper back. “This has been my dream school since freshman year. It fits my scores perfectly.” “Why shouldn’t I apply?” Chase and I matching colleges wasn’t about romance. Our fathers were in the same industry. The path our parents paved for us was identical. Real life isn’t a Netflix drama. We don’t have to flee to opposite ends of the country just because we broke up. I’m a city girl. I like the East Coast pace. I wasn’t going to change my future for a boy. Ivy didn’t buy it. “Excuses. There are tons of good schools. You just can’t let go. You want to stay close so you can win him back.” I looked at Chase. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Ivy berate me with a lazy expression. It gave me a flashback to two years ago. We had just started dating. A girl who was obsessed with him stormed into our classroom and grabbed me by the collar. “June, did you sleep with him?!” she screamed. “Did you trap him into dating you?!” The malice was suffocating. I was shaking with rage. Chase was sitting in the back row, head resting on his arms, watching the scene like it was a show. Back then, I didn’t see the red flag. I thought, She’s crazy, he shouldn’t get involved with a psycho. My friend Harper was the one who jumped in and pulled the girl off me. When it was all over, Chase finally walked up, patted my head, and said, “Don’t be mad. She’s just jealous of you.” “Let’s just be happy. Don’t give her a chance.” I finally realized the truth. Chase might have loved me, but he loved the drama more. He loved watching girls fight over him. He enjoyed it then, and he was enjoying it now. I snapped back to reality and ignored Ivy. instead, I looked at Chase. “We broke up. Please change your application.” If boundaries needed to be drawn, I wasn’t going to be the one derailing my life. 4 Ivy reacted first, eyes lighting up. “Chase! You can switch to USC! We can be in LA together…” Chase acted like he didn’t hear her. He grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. “June, nobody waits forever.” “You’re just emotional right now. You’re going to regret this.” His arrogance was astounding. He was convinced I wouldn’t actually leave. Or that if I did, I’d realize nobody compared to him and come running back. Ivy bit her lip, jealous of the attention. “I think in a relationship, you have to accept a person’s flaws,” she interjected, pivoting to lecture me. “June, you like Chase for his face, so you have to accept the attention that comes with it.” “Instead of being insecure and jealous, maybe work on yourself?” The crowd around us started nodding. “Yeah, that’s the price of dating a 10.” “She’s so insecure. Acting like he cheated or something.” “Ivy’s right. If you can’t handle the heat, get out of the kitchen.” The loudest voices were strangers—Ivy’s friends, no doubt. She played the reasonable peacekeeper; they played the attack dogs. I shook Chase’s hand off. I pulled out my phone and dropped a video into the class group chat. The footage was shaky. It was in a dimly lit club booth. Chase stood up, pulling a girl in a waitress uniform into his arms. “She’s my girl. I’ll drink for her.” He downed three shots, then walked out with his arm around her. The camera zoomed in on the girl in his arms. Ivy. Looking like a damsel in distress. Chase frowned, looking annoyed. “She was being harassed. I said that to save her. What’s the problem?” “I was doing a good deed. Helping a classmate. Is that a crime now?” Ivy jumped in immediately. “If Chase hadn’t been there, who knows what would have happened to me that night…” “That was the first time we hung out privately. I wanted to repay him for saving me, so I asked for his number.” “June, you using this video to shame us? Your mind is so twisted!” This happened right before finals. Ivy was an art student, already accepted, so she was working at a club. After Chase played hero, he came home with alcohol poisoning and severe stomach pain. His parents were out of town. I took him to the ER. I sat with him all night while he got an IV. I brought him porridge for a week. And what did I get? Chase’s gaslighting and Ivy’s accusations. I could have screamed. I could have listed everything I did for him. But suddenly, I just felt… bored. We weren’t on the same path anymore. There was no point in arguing. “Chase.” I looked at him and smiled, feeling a weight lift off my chest. “We broke up.” “Who you hang out with, what you do, whether it’s right or wrong… it has nothing to do with me anymore.”

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Chapter 1 I deliberately swapped my smartphone for a busted old Nokia brick that couldn’t connect to the internet, let alone Apple Pay. I wasn’t panicking. But Tiffany, our high school Prom Queen, was losing her mind. In my past life, right after finals, Tiffany used my phone to drain my accounts of millions. She treated the whole class to a graduation trip, leading them on a psychotic shopping spree the second we hit the tourist traps. She maxed out my cards and left me ten million dollars in debt. When I confronted her, threatening to get lawyers involved, she flipped the script. She put on her best victim face and cried to the whole class. “Savannah, just because you got scammed, you can’t frame me! You’re trying to pin this massive debt on me? You want to ruin my life forever?” She sobbed fake tears, and the class turned on me instantly. “You’re just stupid for not watching your wallet. Trying to frame Tiffany? You’re shameless.” “Tiffany is an angel. You’re trash.” While we were arguing on the edge of a scenic cliff, they shoved me. I fell. I died. And the whole class testified it was an accident. That I slipped. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day Tiffany offered to pay for the graduation trip. I felt the Nokia in my pocket and smiled. “Graduation trip? Let’s go.” “Yes! School’s out! Let’s all go to Dubai to celebrate!” Hearing Tiffany’s familiar, high-pitched voice, I realized I had been reborn. The phantom pain of my bones shattering at the bottom of that cliff still lingered, making me tremble. I looked around at the familiar faces. Nobody responded to Tiffany at first. I knew what they were worried about. They were broke high schoolers. They couldn’t afford a trip to Dubai. But then Tiffany dropped the bomb that made the room explode. “It’s on me. I’m covering round-trip flights and all expenses for everyone.” Boom. Suddenly, she was a goddess. The room erupted in applause. The ass-kissing began immediately. “Omg, Tiffany, you’re the GOAT!” “Tiffany is literally Santa Claus. Thank you so much!” Everyone was screaming. Tiffany’s vanity was being fed like a hungry beast; she was beaming. I stood there, stone-faced. In my last life, it happened exactly like this. Just before boarding the plane, Tiffany borrowed my phone, claiming hers was dead and she needed to call her parents. I didn’t think twice. But once we landed and the spending started, my phone went crazy. Transaction notifications blew up my screen. I couldn’t stop it. I watched my inheritance burn until I was in debt. Later, a tech guy told me my phone had been infected with a keylogger virus. Only Tiffany had touched my phone. When I confronted her, she gaslit the hell out of me. “Savannah, I invited you out of pity! Now you’re framing me?” The class sided with her. They smashed my phone to destroy the evidence. They pushed me off a cliff. They lied to the police. Because it was a foreign country with no cameras on that cliff, the case went cold. They even told my parents I committed suicide because I was broke. My family is the richest in the state. Ten million was nothing to me. But my parents didn’t know that—they believed the lie and died of broken hearts. I clenched my fists. I looked at these demons in human skin and smiled. “Sounds great. Thanks for the charity, Tiffany.” Tiffany linked her arm with mine, acting like we were besties. “No problem! We’re classmates. You have to come, Savannah.” She needed her cash cow. “Don’t worry,” I said, my smile not reaching my eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I had to go. I had to watch her burn. That night, the group chat was buzzing. Tiffany was reminding everyone to bring their passports. “Don’t be late, guys!” “We won’t! We’re packing right now!” I stayed silent, lurking like a ghost, monitoring their every move. The next morning at the airport, I showed up last, just barely making the cutoff. My laziness pissed everyone off. “Why did Tiffany even invite her? She’s such a buzzkill.” “Tiffany is just too nice. She doesn’t want anyone left out.” “Some people have zero self-awareness.” One guy yelled at me, “Hey! Can you hustle? Making everyone wait… you think you’re the main character? You don’t have the money to act this entitled.” I was about to clap back when Tiffany rushed over to save her piggy bank. “Guys, chill! Savannah is just shy. You’re making her uncomfortable.” “She should stay home if she’s shy! You spoil her too much, Tiff.” “Someone needs to apologize.” Chapter 2 Tiffany looked at me with fake concern. “Savannah, maybe just apologize to the group? So we can move on?” I scoffed. “Why? I’m not apologizing. I’m going home.” I turned to leave. Panic flashed in Tiffany’s eyes. She grabbed me. “No, no! It’s fine! I’ll apologize for you!” She turned to the group, acting the martyr. “Sorry guys! I apologize on Savannah’s behalf. Please, do it for me?” “Ugh, Tiffany, you’re a saint.” “Fine, but only because you asked.” Tiffany wiped her imaginary sweat. “Okay, let’s go! Boarding time, ladies and gentlemen!” She herded us toward the gate. Just as we were about to board—the moment of truth. Tiffany looked distressed. “Savannah, my phone just died. Can I borrow yours? I need to call my parents and tell them I’m leaving.” Here we go. The classic move. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the Nokia brick. “Sorry, Tiff. I forgot to charge my smartphone last night. I’m using my grandma’s emergency burner. It’s got like 2% battery and no signal in here.” Tiffany’s face dropped. It was glorious. She gritted her teeth. “Oh… okay.” She didn’t talk to me for the entire flight. I put on my eye mask and slept like a baby. When we landed in Dubai, Tiffany was back to her fake cheerful self. “Savannah! I booked the rooms. To save money, we’re pairing up. You’re with me!” “Also, I made an itinerary. We leave early tomorrow, so I’ll make sure you’re up.” She wanted to keep me close. She was planning to steal the phone while I slept. I glared at her. “Fine.” The peanut gallery chimed in again. “What is her problem? Freeloading off Tiffany and still giving attitude.” “Trashy behavior.” “If I were Tiffany, I’d leave her in the desert.” Their insults were loud and clear. I snapped. “Are you done running your mouths? Do I need to sew your lips shut?” “Oh, you wanna go?” “Trash!” They wanted to fight, but Tiffany jumped in again. “Stop! Everyone stop! We’re here to have fun!” I could see them whispering, plotting to “teach me a lesson” later. But I’m paranoid now. I don’t go anywhere alone. They couldn’t touch me. So they switched to the silent treatment. Isolating me. Perfect. I treated them like air. Chapter 3 The next morning, Tiffany rallied the troops. “Breakfast first, then we hit the mall! Buy whatever you want, it’s on me!” “Yasss! Queen Tiffany!” The worship was real. Their smiles were disgusting. “Savannah, sit with me.” Tiffany was sticking to me like glue. “Okay.” After eating, Tiffany led us to the most expensive shopping district. She hired a local guide to take us to the luxury flagship stores. The moment we walked in, the greed on everyone’s faces was palpable. They didn’t care about the architecture or the culture. They just wanted free Gucci. Tiffany waved her hand like a billionaire. “Shop away! Grab whatever catches your eye.” She glanced at me, her eyes saying, It’s your money anyway. I smirked back. Let the games begin. Tiffany shadowed me through the store. She was piling jewelry on herself, looking at me. “Savannah, you’re not getting anything?” I shook my head. “Too flashy. Not my style. I’m gonna look over there.” “Wait!” She panicked. “Stay here! Help me pick something out!” A second later, she tried again. “Savannah, seriously, can I borrow your phone? I need to tell my parents we landed safely. Strict household, you know?” I looked around. The class was piling up boxes of luxury goods. I smiled and pulled out the Nokia. “Here.” Tiffany stared at the plastic brick like it was a bomb. “What the f*ck? You’re still using this piece of junk? How do you even FaceTime?” I shrugged. “I’m broke. This is durable. Deal with it. Or borrow someone else’s.” “Borrow my ass!” She snapped. She was losing her cool. Her scream attracted the whole class. “Who uses a burner phone in 2025?” “Omg, she’s so broke it’s embarrassing.” “If it wasn’t for Tiffany, she’d never leave her trailer park.” They thought roasting me would make Tiffany happy. But Tiffany was holding her head, looking like she was about to have a stroke. “Shut up!” Tiffany screamed. “Shut the hell up! If you keep talking, return your stuff and get out!” The class went silent. They’d never seen the “angel” rage before. Just then, the store manager approached, smiling that polite, customer-service smile. “Miss, your group has reached the purchase limit for holding items. Would you like to settle the bill before continuing?” Chapter 4 Tiffany froze. She tried to play it cool, channeling her inner Karen. “What’s the rush? You think I can’t afford it? We’re still shopping. Are you trying to kick us out? Do you know who I am?” The manager, terrified of losing a whale, bowed. “I apologize profusely! Please, to make up for my rudeness, everything today is 20% off. Please, continue.” Tiffany let out a breath she was holding. She shot a smug look at the group. “That’s better.” The manager ushered them back into the VIP lounge. Tiffany was sweating. I could see the gears turning in her head. She was screwed. I watched her pretend to browse. She started putting things back on the shelves surreptitiously. She whispered to the group. “Hey guys… I think this stuff is fake.” The classmates paused. “What? No way. This is a flagship store.” Tiffany nodded seriously. “Trust me. It’s knockoffs. Put it back. I’ll take you to the real high-end district later.” The classmates were gullible. They started putting things down. The manager noticed. “Is something wrong?” Tiffany stayed silent, face red. But her “friends”—the loudmouths—betrayed her instantly. “The lady said your stuff is fake!” “How dare you sell us dupes!” The manager was furious. “I swear on my life, if there is a single fake item here, I will eat it!” He slapped the authenticity certificates on the table. The classmates believed the paper. “Tiffany! It’s real! Can we get the stuff back?” Tiffany was shaking. She couldn’t speak. I stepped forward. “No, you can’t. Because she has no money.” Silence. Then chaos. “Tiffany, tell her she’s lying!” “You’re rich, right? You promised!” Tiffany looked like she wanted to vomit. A few of the guys got aggressive. “Yo, are you pranking us? You dragged us to Dubai for this?” “Did you act rich just to clout chase?” Tiffany stayed silent. “Damn, she’s broke. Let’s bounce. This is embarrassing.” The guys started to leave. Tiffany’s minions—the pick-me girls—panicked. They blocked the exit. “Wait! Let Tiffany explain!” “Maybe her bank froze her account because she’s spending too much! It happens to rich people!” I almost laughed out loud. They were digging her grave for me. Tiffany’s eyes went wide with pure hatred toward her “friends.” But she had to play along. “Yes! That’s it! My card got flagged for suspicious activity!” She squeezed out a few tears. The class softened immediately. “Oh, see? Just a misunderstanding.” “Poor Tiffany.” I watched them comfort her, suppressing a laugh.

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A month before I died, I hired an undertaker online. The reviews said he was a pro—full-service, handled everything. From corpse cleanup to the final shovel of dirt, it was the perfect “one-stop shop” for someone like me, who had no one to collect my body. But when we met, my luck ran out. The undertaker was my ex-boyfriend, the one I dumped five years ago. Enemies on sight. He took one look at me in the hospital bed and waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t care who you are. I’m not burying you.” I scrambled out of bed to block the door before he could leave. “It’s a misunderstanding! I booked it for my grandma!” He stared at me, face like a thundercloud, hesitated for a solid minute, then finally snatched the credit card from my hand with a frown. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. He took the money. He signed the contract. When I die, he can’t back out now. 1 I was lying in the hospital bed, waiting to die, when old Mrs. Zhou in the next bed nudged me. “Add this guy on WeChat,” she whispered conspiratorially. “He’s amazing.” “He handled my husband’s funeral. From picking up the body to the burial, he does everything. Even throws in the burial shoes and shroud for free.” “Don’t underestimate a good send-off,” she added. “Get it right, and you’ll have good karma in the next life.” Everyone in our ward was waiting to die. But I was the youngest. When I first arrived, the uncles and aunties pitied me. “So young,” they’d say. “You shouldn’t be here.” But as time passed, they realized I wasn’t sad. So, death became just another topic of conversation. I thought about it and added the contact Mrs. Zhou recommended. I wasn’t counting on karma for the next life. But for this one? Yeah, I needed help. My parents were gone. My grandma had been bedridden for years—she couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone bury me. Funerals are complicated. I tried to plan it myself, but I just didn’t have the energy. I was dying, and I hadn’t even bought an urn. I had some savings left. A full-service package seemed like the way to go. I sent the friend request. Ten minutes later, no response. Finally, a message popped up. Not in the chat, but in the friend request verification box: “What for?” 2 I blinked, double-checking I had the right person. I typed back, explaining I needed a full funeral package. This time, it took him thirty minutes to reply. “?” Still didn’t accept my request. I frowned. I showed my phone to Mrs. Zhou. “Does he not add strangers?” She looked confused. “That’s weird. In his line of work, he adds strangers all the time.” She grabbed her own phone and sent a voice message. “He’s probably just busy. Let me book him for you.” I was getting sleepier by the day. I thanked her and drifted off. I slept fitfully until evening. Snores from the uncles filled the room. I checked my phone—almost 8 PM. Guess he wasn’t coming. My nose felt hot. I touched it—blood. I woke up instantly, grabbing tissues from the nightstand and stumbling to the bathroom. It wasn’t the first time. I was used to it. Apply pressure. Plug with cotton balls. Wait. After a few rounds of soaked cotton, the bleeding stopped. I washed the blood off my hands and neck in the mirror. The ward was quiet. No one saw. Good. If they saw, they’d feel bad for me. And when they felt bad, I felt bad. I leaned against the sink, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Tomorrow, I needed to ask the doctor about discharge. Grandma was alone at home. With whatever time I had left, I wanted to be with her. Once the vertigo faded, I opened the bathroom door. Knock, knock. The doctor’s rounds. I opened the ward door without looking, turning back toward my bed, using the wall for support. But no footsteps followed. I stopped and looked back. A man stood in the doorway. The room was dim, lit only by the nightlight. Maybe it was the shadows, maybe my vision was failing. I couldn’t see his face clearly. 3 I rubbed my eyes. He stood still. Only his eyes moved—cold, disgusted, indifferent—scanning my face. Maybe I was sicker than I thought. I was hallucinating Liam. He looked at me just like he did five years ago. Calm. Detached. Back then, I said, “Let’s break up.” He said, “Okay.” Flat. No emotion. The silence was suffocating. After a while, I realized it wasn’t a hallucination. There were other patients in the room, after all. My palms started sweating. Why did I feel guilty? I forced a smile. “What a… coincidence. Who are you looking for?” My eyes burned. Thank god for the dim lighting. He probably couldn’t see my tears. Five years ago, breaking up hurt. But I never imagined our reunion would be on my deathbed. The indifference on his face vanished, replaced by a flat, professional mask. “Someone booked a funeral service. I’m here to sign the contract.” I froze. Right. Mrs. Zhou’s recommendation. “You… you’re Liam?” Liam stared at me. He didn’t speak. But his eyes screamed: Is this a joke? My brain really was rotting. How slow could I be? Liam hadn’t even changed his WeChat profile picture. It was still the Patrick Star I chose for him years ago. Mrs. Zhou had told me, “This is Liam, the funeral guy.” But I didn’t connect the dots until now. The awkwardness was thick enough to choke on. I stammered, “Sorry… I booked it. I forgot. And… I didn’t know it was you.” Liam let out a cold laugh. “I’m surprised you’re not too good for my services now.” He turned to leave. I pushed off the wall and chased him. “You’re already here! Just sign the contract!” I only had a month. Finding someone else would be a hassle. I didn’t have the energy. Liam probably thought I booked him on purpose. That I was shameless. He stopped at the door, turning back. The hate in his eyes was undisguised now. “Ms. Lin, you flatter me. But unfortunately…” He paused, his voice dropping. “I’ll bury anyone. But I won’t bury you.” 4 That stung. Even dying, I was getting rejected. It hurt more than I expected. I looked down at the contract in his hand. My brain was mush. I babbled, “Business is business. You can’t pick and choose customers.” I couldn’t look up. I didn’t want to see his face. Silence stretched on. Finally, he took the bank card I was holding out. “Don’t contact me for anything other than funeral arrangements,” he said coldly. He turned to leave. I remembered he still hadn’t accepted my friend request. I opened my mouth to call him back. Black spots danced in my vision. I reached out to steady myself and accidentally grabbed his hand. His hand was cold. Or maybe I was burning up again. I noticed a ring on his left ring finger. Five years ago, three months after we broke up, he posted his new girlfriend on social media. Married? Engaged? It wouldn’t be surprising. I felt… something. I didn’t know what. I let go of his hand like it burned me. He seemed to flinch. When he looked back, his face was dark with disgust. “Sorry,” I apologized quickly. “Um… accept the request? So we can coordinate later.” Liam scoffed. “No need. Just pass messages through her.” He meant Mrs. Zhou. I couldn’t speak. I watched him walk away. He wiped the hand I touched on his suit jacket. I bit my lip and looked away. It was just a touch. Was I that disgusting?

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I was the “It Girl”—the white moonlight—for the heirs of the city’s top four dynasties before I went abroad. They were supposed to be waiting for my return, fighting over who got to put a ring on my finger. But the moment I stepped off the plane, rows of floating text—like a glitched Twitch chat—scrolled across my vision: 【LMAO. The side character actually thinks those trust fund babies are still gonna simp for her?】 【She has no idea. While she was gone, they found a dupe—a poor girl who looks just like her. But joke’s on them, they all caught feelings for the substitute!】 【Now the evil ex is gonna try to bully the heroine, the guys will see her true colors, bankrupted her family, and leave her in the gutter.】 【And then? It’s happily ever after for our女主 (Female Lead) and her harem! Spicy scenes incoming!】 I watched with my own eyes as they left my welcome-back party early, one by one, rushing off to comfort another girl. So, I decided to ghost them all. 1 I pieced together the current situation in Sea City from the floating comments. Six months ago, they met the heroine, Lily, working as a waitress at a high-end club. Poor, pure, tough but fragile, and bearing a striking resemblance to me. She caught their attention instantly. For the past six months, these guys had been circling Lily, fighting and scheming over her, just like they used to do with me. They even had a group chat. It used to be called [Waiting for Serena’s Return]. Now, the topic was exclusively the new girl. I came back without telling anyone. When they found out, they scrambled to throw a welcome dinner. I wore a custom emerald silk dress, watching them walk in with gifts. The four princes of Sea City. Different personalities, but all cut from the same cloth: young, handsome, polished, and expensive. Money really is the best skincare. “Serena…” “Sis…” Different greetings, but all of them were polite. Too polite. Well-behaved. The chat scrolled past my eyes: 【They used to stick to her like glue. Now they’re keeping their distance.】 【They literally said in the group chat they don’t want Lily to get jealous, so they gotta stay away from the evil ex!】 【Yesss! I live for this double standard!】 I was skeptical at first, but seeing their distant attitudes, I realized the comments were telling the truth. 2 Not even halfway through the meal, Leo—usually the wild, impulsive one—kept checking his phone. The others followed suit, whispering among themselves. Leo’s anxiety was written all over his face. I excused myself to the restroom. As soon as I got there, the text floated by: 【OMG! The heroine is working the night shift and they’re worried she’s gonna get harassed by that creep from last time! They can’t sit still!】 【They’re planning their escape! Pure love wins!】 【Tsk tsk, the side character is pathetic. But hey, that’s what happens when you’re just a plot device.】 I returned to the private room. “Serena, my dad just texted. Family emergency. Gotta bounce,” Leo said, standing up with zero hesitation. “I have something to take care of, too,” Silas, the gloomy, isolated one, said coldly as he stood up. Ford, the CEO type, buttoned his jacket calmly. “You guys drank. I’ll drive you.” Just like that, three of them left. Fast. Like they were escaping a fire. I looked at Felix, who was still sitting there, elegantly cutting his steak. “You’re not going?” He smirked, looking up at me. “Someone has to stay and take you home.” Felix. The fox. The hardest one to read. 【LOL. Does she think Felix stayed because he cares?】 【Too bad, sis. All four of them are obsessed with the new girl.】 【He’s just staying to do damage control. They don’t want the evil ex to find out and target the heroine yet.】 【They literally drew straws in the group chat. Felix lost, so he had to stay. The other three owe him big time. Haha!】 【Kind Substitute defeats Evil White Moonlight. This plot slaps!】 3 Felix drove me back to my penthouse. At the door, I turned to him. “Thanks. You should head back.” Felix smiled, leaning against the frame. “Not gonna invite me in for water, sister?” I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be in a rush to leave.” His smile deepened, his eyes searching mine. “Why would you think that? Do you know something?” Tsk. Always the sharpest one. I poured him water. He sat down, his eyes scanning my figure. “You look good in that dress.” “Thanks.” I sat on the opposite sofa, leaning back lazily. Felix swirled the glass in his hand. “You don’t believe Leo’s excuse, do you? Aren’t you curious where they really went?” I glanced at him. “Are you trying to tell me something?” He put down the glass and moved to sit next to me, leaning in close, his voice low. “Do you want to know?” 【AHHH! Why is Felix so close to her? Is he gonna cheat on the heroine mentally?!】 【Relax. This is a harem novel. The ex is just a stepping stone. They all have a transition period. They’ll struggle, but eventually, the heroine’s purity wins. Then they trample the ex. That’s the satisfaction!】 I scooted away. “Forget it. It’s late. You should go.” Felix looked at me, a bitter smile touching his lips. “You really don’t care about us at all, do you?” I shrugged. “It’s your business. I have no right to pry.” His phone rang. He answered it on speaker, right in front of me. “Felix, did you drop Serena off yet?” Leo’s voice boomed from the phone. “Yeah,” Felix replied casually. “Thank god we got here in time. Lily almost got harassed again. We took her out to get her mind off it. She asked if you were coming. Hmph, you’re always the quiet one, but she asks about you the most. Stop playing hard to get, it’s working too well.” Leo sounded jealous. Felix looked up at me. Seeing my indifferent expression, his eyes darkened slightly. “Sure. I’m coming.” Before he left, he turned at the door. “Three years abroad. Now that we aren’t revolving around you anymore… do you feel a sense of loss?” I smiled. “Everyone is independent. You guys weren’t with me for those three years anyway.” 4 I met the legendary heroine, Lily, sooner than I expected. It was at a birthday party for the Chen family heiress. I had just returned, so the invites were piling up. We were in a VIP suite at a high-end club. Lily walked in wearing a server’s uniform, carrying a tray of drinks. “Hey, isn’t that the girl the four princes are fighting over? Still working as a waitress?” “She said she wants to earn money with her own two hands. Refused to be a canary in a gilded cage.” “Tsk, that attitude is exactly why the guys like her.” “Look at her eyes. She really does look like Serena. But Serena is back now, and the guys seem… indifferent? Is the copy replacing the original?” “Serena is old news. Too high maintenance. This girl is true love.” The whispers weren’t quiet. In this circle, people love to watch a queen fall. I looked at Lily calmly. She stood out among the staff—fresh-faced, delicate. Then, the drama started. As Lily brought drinks to my table, she stumbled over nothing. The tray tipped, and champagne splashed toward me. I dodged quickly, but some of it still hit the hem of my dress. “Ah! Miss Su! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…” She dropped to the floor in a panic, grabbing napkins, trying to wipe my skirt while practically bowing. I was about to step back and tell her it was fine, but a voice roared across the room. “Serena! Don’t you dare bully Lily!” Leo stormed over, glaring at me. He pulled Lily up and shielded her behind his back. “Serena, just because you’re a rich heiress doesn’t mean you can humiliate a working girl! Is this what you learned abroad? Disrespect?” The room went silent. People looked at me with scorn—the abandoned ex being petty. 【OMG! Possessive protective boyfriend mode ACTIVATED!】 【The ex is starting her villain arc! The guys are gonna hate her now!】 “Leo, stop, don’t be like that. It was my clumsiness. Miss Su has every right to be mad,” Lily said, voice trembling, acting the saint. It only added fuel to the fire. “Serena, I didn’t think you’d become this petty—” “Leo!” I cut him off, my voice cold. “I haven’t said a single word from start to finish. Are you hallucinating, or are you just looking for a fight?” Leo froze, his mouth hanging open. The sudden shift in my demeanor stunned him. 5 “Miss Su, it’s all my mistake. You can scold me all you want, but please don’t be mad at Leo. He’s just worried about me.” Lily played the victim card again, looking ready to cry. My opinion of her shifted. I thought she was a naive white lotus, but this? This was low-tier manipulation. “Serena, Lily isn’t like you. She wasn’t born into money. She works hard for her life. Just because we treat her well doesn’t mean you can target her and try to get her fired,” Leo insisted stubbornly. I pressed my lips together. “I was born rich because I won the genetic lottery, just like you were born lucky enough to stand here and bark at me without consequences.” “But I don’t owe anyone anything. My morals don’t allow for your blind accusations. From the moment she spilled the drink, I haven’t uttered a syllable. You jumped to conclusions and pinned a crime on me. That is your mistake.” “If I wanted to make a scene about the dress, that is my right as a customer. If I choose not to, that is my generosity. Neither has anything to do with who you like. Nobody gets to slander me. Do you understand?” He blinked, a flash of panic crossing his eyes as he looked at me. 【Wait… the evil ex is kinda making sense? She literally didn’t say anything before Leo started yelling.】 【Who cares about logic? She wanted to bully her. Leo just stopped it preemptively. Just because the female lead has a strong backer doesn’t make the ex innocent!】 【Exactly! Look how pitiful Lily looks. Serena is so hateful!】 I rolled my eyes at the broken moral compass of the chat. The birthday girl, Chloe, stepped in laughing. “Okay, okay, everyone cool off. It’s my birthday, give me some face.” Leo dragged Lily away. At the door, Ford and Silas were waiting. They swept their gaze over me, cold and distant, then left with Leo and Lily. Later that night, I had my driver drop me off by the lake near my complex. I needed to walk off the alcohol. That’s when I saw Silas sitting alone by the water, looking like a depressed statue. 【Poor Silas. Lily likes Leo the most right now. He can only sulk by the lake.】 【Silas has been paranoid and gloomy since childhood. He’s not gonna jump, is he?】 【If he hadn’t met the ex back in the day, he would have offed himself already. Now he’s over her, but he fell for the heroine, and he has to share her.】 【Depression arc incoming…】

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In the dead of night, high up in the Rockies, my flashlight beam swept over five lifeless bodies inside the SUV. My hands trembling, I dialed 911. My voice was hoarse, shaking as I spoke. “Hello? I’m on the mountain pass… Highway 550. Everyone in my car… they’re all dead.” The dispatcher responded immediately. “Sir, please state your exact location. Help is on the way.” My voice felt like a frozen stone hitting the pavement—hard, cold, emotionless. “I’m at the scenic turnout about five miles east of the summit. The license plate is CO-318X. Five people inside are dead.” “I am the only one left alive.” 1. It took over an hour for the piercing wail of sirens to shatter the silence of the desolate wilderness. I was huddled behind a boulder about fifty feet from the car, wrapped in a mud-stained windbreaker, clutching a dead power bank like a lifeline. The coroner, state troopers, and local detectives arrived almost simultaneously. There were six of us on this road trip through the mountains. Now, five corpses were frozen in twisted, unnatural positions, held in place by seatbelts and stiff limbs. Jessica, our team leader, had her head slumped against the steering wheel, forehead resting on the horn that made no sound. Chloe, in the passenger seat, had her mouth half-open as if screaming, eyes bulging in terror, staring into the dark. In the back, Ashley, Morgan, and our photographer, Hannah, were contorted—some curled up, some leaning back. Their expressions were frozen masks of agony or confusion. There were no obvious external wounds. It was as if life had been ripped out of them in a split second. I couldn’t look anymore. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. My face was ghost-white. A cop wrapped in a heavy duty jacket shone his flashlight in my face. “You’re saying you guys celebrated yesterday? Had a few drinks, planned to hit the city today? You fell asleep, and when you woke up, they were like this?” I shivered violently, nodding. “Yes.” “What time did you fall asleep?” I tried to dig through my frozen brain. “Around ten, maybe? Just after we crossed the pass. I was exhausted.” “What was the last thing you saw?” “Hannah was taking photos of the stars. Jess was driving. Morgan and Ashley were talking about the route. Chloe… Chloe looked like she had altitude sickness. She was just closing her eyes.” The officer’s gaze was sharp as a knife, pinning me down. “They’re all dead. Why are you fine?” I looked at him, blank and confused. Yeah. Why are they dead, and I’m alive? I stood on that 12,000-foot ridge with them. I drank the same whiskey. I was just as tired. But they were dead. And I was breathing. Seeing my silence, the officer’s voice softened, but the suspicion remained. “Anything else you can tell us?” I hesitated, whispering, “One thing… I don’t know if I was hallucinating. After I fell asleep, I thought I heard someone calling my name… saying it was cold. So cold.” “Did you wake up then?” I stared blankly and shook my head. Fear had wiped my memory. I didn’t remember waking up, seeing the bodies, or getting out of the car. When I came to, I was already on the phone with 911. Seeing how weak I was, they stopped questioning me and put me in the back of a warm cruiser. Dawn broke. Through the window, I watched the forensics team working. “Preliminary assessment: Cause of death is complex,” a medical examiner said, taking off his outer gloves. His voice was muffled by the wind. “Highly suspect acute altitude sickness triggering cardiac arrest or cerebral edema. Possible overlay of carbon monoxide poisoning or flash hypothermia.” “Because of individual differences, some might have passed out instantly, others might have suffered. Time of death is concentrated between 1 AM and 3 AM.” Listening to this, the lead detective—Detective Miller—turned his head. His eyes locked onto me. “You were in the car. Same altitude, same temperature.” I nodded, my throat tight. Miller stared at me, scrutinizing. But he didn’t press that point. He switched angles. “Are you sure you slept from 10 PM straight through? You didn’t wake up once? You noticed nothing?” I rubbed my pounding temples. “I don’t think so. The altitude hit me hard. I took some meds and was out cold.” Miller narrowed his eyes, thoughtful. “Detective,” the ME called out. “The car wasn’t airtight, windows were cracked. But the bodies… they’re mostly peaceful, or frozen in sudden pain. No signs of a struggle consistent with violent asphyxiation.” “Like they died in their sleep?” Miller lowered his voice. The ME nodded. “Here’s the weird part. The doors.” “All four doors and the trunk were locked from the inside. Central locking engaged. Keys in the ignition, engine off. Windows rolled up tight except for a sliver on the passenger side.” “So,” Miller looked around at the jagged cliffs, “when this happened, the car was a steel coffin locked from the inside.” “No forced entry. Nobody got out.” I hugged the wool blanket tighter, my knuckles turning white. The “steel coffin” metaphor made me feel like I was suffocating. Why did they lock the doors? Usually, when parked, you don’t lock up like that so people can hop out to use the bathroom. “We’ll check for mechanical failure,” the ME said. “Carbon monoxide leak from the heater is possible, but unlikely. We’re leaning towards environmental causes.” Miller closed his notebook and looked at me again. “Was anyone sick during the trip? Before you got in the car?” I paused. “Chloe had bad altitude sickness. She threw up at the summit and slept most of the time. Jess mentioned chest pains while driving, but she said it was an old issue.” A tech officer walked up. “Detective, the dashcam SD card is missing.” “Slot’s empty. We searched the car. It’s gone.” Miller’s sharp gaze snapped back to me. “You know about the dashcam? Where’s the card?” I shook my head, looking lost. “I was in the back seat, squeezed in the corner. I didn’t pay attention. I just slept.” “What about before the trip? Who checked the gear?” “Usually Jess or Hannah. Hannah’s the photographer, she handles the tech.” Miller stared at me. No malice, just crushing pressure. “It’s strange, Ethan. You wake up, everyone’s dead. You noticed nothing for hours. You don’t know where the SD card is.” “It seems the only thing you know is that you’re alive. Everything else is a blank.” I looked at him with fearful, innocent eyes. “Detective… the altitude meds knocked me out. I don’t drive. I really don’t know where the card is…” Miller stopped the questioning. The bodies were transported. There was a mountain of work to do. I was taken to a temporary holding room at the local ranger station. The heater was blasting, but I couldn’t feel the warmth. Hours later, Miller returned. He placed a DSLR camera on the table in front of me. It was Hannah’s baby—she never let it out of her sight. Now it was splattered with mud. “Listen to this.” He hit play, his eyes glued to my face, hunting for a micro-expression. The audio from the internal mic was fuzzy, full of static and wind noise, but the voices were clear enough to cut glass. First, violent coughing and dry heaving. Then, Jess’s hoarse screaming. “Shit… can’t breathe… open the window! Open the damn window!” The sound of fists pounding against the door panels. Then Ashley’s voice, high-pitched with terror: “I can’t! It’s jammed! Central lock isn’t responding! Jess! Jess, what’s wrong with you?!” Morgan screaming, crying: “She’s having a heart attack! She’s seizing! Hannah! Phone! No signal! Help us!” In the chaos, heavy breathing and the clicking of camera buttons. Hannah was trying to use the camera as a light source… or to record something. In the background, a faint moan from Chloe: “Cold… so cold…” And then, in the final ten seconds of the recording, amidst the dying gasps and despair, Hannah’s voice erupted. A final, hysterical scream using the last of her strength: “ETHAN! WAKE UP!!! WAKE THE FUCK UP!!! LOOK WHAT YOU DID!!!” 2. Click. The recording ended. Dead silence filled the room, save for the crackling of the wood stove. My mind went blank. Hannah’s final, cursed scream replayed in my head like a bomb blast. “I don’t know… I was asleep… I swear I didn’t hear anything!” “Hannah’s camera was on, sitting on her lap. That recording starts at 1:33 AM and ends at 1:46 AM.” Miller leaned forward, his presence looming over me like a mountain. “In the recording, in their final moments, they were screaming your name.” “Especially Hannah. She was convinced you knew what was happening. She believed this was your doing. Explain that.” “I don’t know!” I snapped my head up, my voice shrill with panic I didn’t realize I had. “I was asleep! I woke up and they were dead! I don’t know why she said that! I didn’t do anything! She was yelling at me to wake up too, right?” Miller saw my agitation and softened his tone, though his eyes remained cold. “Okay. Let’s try this. You said you heard someone calling your name in a dream. Tell me about that.” I slumped back in the chair, drained. “I felt… tugging. Shaking. Someone telling me to wake up… It was loud, chaotic. I felt sick. My consciousness was fading in and out. It felt like a nightmare.” Miller picked up the camera, his voice terrifyingly low. “Did it ever occur to you that it wasn’t a dream?” “That they were desperately begging you to wake up, and you… you just didn’t respond?” A chill crawled up my spine. The blurred images from my “dream” suddenly sharpened into high definition. I could see Jess’s twisted face pressed against the steering wheel. Chloe’s pale, bloodless skin. Hannah raising her camera in the dark, pointing it at me with rage and accusation… “Why didn’t you wake up?” Miller’s voice was an ice pick. “They drank the same booze. They had the same sickness. They all woke up. Only you slept like the dead.” “Even with altitude sickness, you weren’t in a coma—otherwise you’d be a corpse right now from hypoxia. So why, when they were screaming and shaking you, were you the only one oblivious to mass death?” Yeah. Why couldn’t I wake up? Why am I the only one breathing? What happened during those lost hours? Terror flooded my brain. My heart raced. “How was your relationship with them?” Miller pivoted again. I took a deep breath, trying to find calm. “We met online. A hiking group. It was fine. Jess was the leader, experienced. Hannah loved photos. Ashley and Morgan were social. Chloe was weak but nice.” “Any conflict? Even small ones?” I hesitated. “Yesterday at the checkpoint… my ID photo had an issue. We got held up for twenty minutes. Jess was annoyed. She called me ‘dead weight.’ It was awkward, but it blew over.” “And the others?” “Ashley smoothed it over. Morgan stayed quiet. Hannah played with her camera. Chloe was sick, sleeping.” “Did they exclude you?” He pressed harder. “Collective bullying?” I went silent. Memories I’d suppressed bubbled up. My suggestions on the route ignored. Getting food last. Standing on the far edge of every group photo. Yeah. I guess that’s exclusion. Miller saw my silence. He pulled out an evidence bag containing Hannah’s phone. He opened WeChat and pulled up a group chat named “Suicide Squad 318.” There was a message sent at 12:15 AM. Jess: Stay sharp. Once we cross the pass, we’re good. I’ll drive the second leg. Let that Twig sleep till he rots. Can’t count on a wimp like him for anything. Useless dead weight. Replies followed: Ashley: K. Morgan: Copy that. Hannah: Yep. Ten minutes later, they entered the death zone. Half an hour later, the recording started. I stared at the words “Twig,” “rot,” and “dead weight.” My blood ran cold. To the leader, I was just trash. My face darkened, lips pressed into a thin white line. Miller slid a tablet across the table. “Did you know there were two group chats?” I looked up, confused. “There’s the ‘All Hands’ group with you in it for splitting bills. And then there’s this one.” Miller tapped the screen. “This is where they roasted you. Planned around you. Are you telling me you felt none of that hostility?” The screen’s glow illuminated my stunned face. Of course I felt it. In Litang, when the hostel was full, Ashley typed: “Having a guy is annoying. Should we handle him like the last one? His watch looks expensive…” When I lagged behind due to the altitude, I heard Jess whisper to Hannah: “If he keeps slowing us down, we ditch him at the next stop…” I didn’t know exactly what they meant, but the malice in their eyes? That was real. “Ethan, were you angry at them?” Miller put the tablet away, watching me. “Yes,” I rasped. “Did you ever, for a split second, wish something bad would happen to them? Or that this trip would end? Even in an extreme way?” His question cut straight to the bone. I looked up, meeting his gaze. “I resented how they treated me, but I didn’t hurt them! Just because you can’t find the killer doesn’t mean you can frame me!” “But I have evidence that you’re lying,” Miller sneered. He slid a photo across the table. It was from Hannah’s camera—the picnic at Ranwu Lake. I was sitting on a rock at the far edge, wrapped in my jacket, looking spacey. No smile. The others were crowded around the mat. Jess with a bottle, Hannah throwing up a peace sign, Ashley and Morgan fighting over a cookie. Chloe was wrapped in a blanket, sleeping. They were a warm, tight circle. I was background noise. “You said you fell asleep at 10 PM. The timestamp on this photo is 11:15 PM. You were awake. You were with them.” “Ethan, you’ve been lying from the start. You are the killer.” 3. I stared at myself in the photo, my pupils dilating in disbelief. I looked up at Miller, trembling. “Detective, how can you suspect me? I’m a survivor, but I’m also a victim! Just because of a photo? That’s slander! Do you know how traumatizing this is?” “I said I probably slept around ten. I didn’t say exactly! My brain was foggy! And look at me—I’m skinny, I’m sick. How could I kill five fitness-obsessed women who all outweigh me?” Miller stared dead at me. “Yeah. It does seem unlikely.” Suddenly, the ME walked in and handed a freshly printed report to Miller. “Her time of death doesn’t match the others.” He circled Chloe’s name with a heavy red pen. I sat up straight as if pricked by a needle, eyeing the report. Miller caught my reaction. “Explain.” The ME opened the file, voice raspy. “Rectal temp, rigor mortis, corneal clouding… everything is different. She died significantly later than the other four.” “Given the environment, we estimate she survived nearly two hours longer than the rest.” Silence filled the room. “Also,” the ME continued, “She didn’t have altitude sickness. Blood oxygen, organs… normal. She wasn’t sick. She couldn’t have been comatose.” Every eye in the room turned to me. My blood froze. “Impossible! Chloe was sick the whole time! She was huddled in that blanket!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “The photo! Look at the photo! She looks terrible!” “True, she looks weak in the photo,” Miller admitted, glancing at it again. The ME was firm. “Physiology doesn’t lie. She was healthy. And she died of cyanide poisoning. It was murder.” Miller looked back at me. “Is it possible Chloe was acting?” A chill shot up my spine. Chloe was faking it? Why? “So… Chloe is the real killer?” I asked, voice trembling. “But why spare me?” Miller smiled, a cold, humorless thing. “Exactly. Why spare you? She didn’t even spare herself.” “Ethan, did you know these people before?” “No! Just internet strangers! I never thought this would happen…” My mind was a blender. “Did you know Chloe had a grudge against anyone?” I thought hard. “Jess stole Chloe’s boyfriend a while back. But Chloe said it was fine. She said, ‘It’s just a man, let Jess have him.’” A terrifying thought bloomed in my mind. “Are you saying… Chloe killed the other four for revenge, then committed suicide out of guilt?” Miller nodded slowly. “That’s a valid theory.” “But I found something interesting, Ethan. The bodies were twisted, yes. But their hands… they were all arranged in a specific gesture. A gesture of atonement. Who were they apologizing to?” “I… I don’t know! I swear!” My voice shattered. “I didn’t see any gestures! I was scared out of my mind! I ran! I hid!” I babbled, trying to use chaos to mask my panic. “Ethan!” Miller’s voice boomed like thunder. “Look at me! Answer the question! What does that gesture mean? Who did they wrong?!” His shout broke me. I shuddered violently. Under the crushing pressure, a desperate cry tore from my throat: “I don’t know! Maybe they found a conscience! Maybe right before they died, they realized they were wrong! Wrong about what they did to my brother…” I clamped my hand over my mouth. My eyes widened to the point of pain. FUCK. I screamed internally. I blew it. The silence in the interrogation room was heavier than gravity. It’s over. The thought drowned me like icy water. Three years of planning. The stalking. The calculation. The perfect escape. Ruined by one slip of the tongue? Miller didn’t pounce on the mention of my brother. Instead, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a clear evidence bag. My eyes, filled with dread, locked onto it. Inside lay a photo. Small, edges worn. A color print. A man standing on a hillside covered in wildflowers. White casual wear. Smiling. Pure. Like sunlight. Evan. My brother. My only blood. How is that here? I hid it… Terror spiked. I grabbed the muddy backpack I’d been clutching this whole time. The secret compartment. Sewn between the waterproofing and the lining at the very bottom. I put it there myself before we left! How did they find it? Why is it in a police bag? Miller spoke. “Ethan. You hid this photo very well. Waterproof material. Double stitched.” Slowly, deliberately, he flipped the bag over. The back of the photo was now facing me. No date. No name. Just four words written in red marker. Blood for Blood. BOOM. My mind exploded. The mask was gone. “We ran a check. Your brother joined a hiking group three years ago. Same route. Coincidentally… he was teamed up with these exact five women.” “He went missing. Never found. Ethan… don’t you think that’s too much of a coincidence?” “AHHHH!!!” A scream, inhuman and raw, tore out of my chest. I launched myself out of the chair, diving for the table, clawing for the bag. My eyes were bleeding red. Tears, snot, saliva—I was a mess. “Give him back! Give him back to me!!” I roared, scrabbling at the plastic. Miller was ready. He swept the bag behind him and pinned me down by the shoulders. “Get off me! Give me my brother!” I struggled like a trapped animal. Miller barely held me. “You don’t get to touch him! You’re not worthy! He’s clean… he’s pure… he shouldn’t hear this!” “Don’t talk about this in front of him! Don’t dirty his ears!” “They deserved to die! They were animals! No, worse than animals!” “They destroyed him!!” 4. I sobbed hysterically, body convulsing with grief and rage. “Those monsters! My brother was nineteen! He just graduated high school! He was kind! At 15,000 feet, in Death Valley, he was starving, but he gave his last half of a compression biscuit to Hannah because she was crying about being hungry!” “He gave his only oxygen tank to Morgan because she faked dizziness! And he had a splitting headache! He gave his sleeping bag to Jess because she was cold! He slept in a thin jacket in the corner at below-zero temps! And what did he get?!” My voice cracked, filled with venom. “What did he get?! Those wolves in human skin! They saw he was weak! They saw he couldn’t fight back! They… they…” The pain choked me. I gasped for air. “They drugged him… They used him to keep warm… in that freezing car! My brother bled out… he died with his eyes open!” “He didn’t understand! He gave them everything! Why… why did they do that to him?!” I glared at Miller, hatred radiating off me. “And then? Once they were fed and warm? They took his valuables. They smashed his face in with a rock so he couldn’t be identified!” “They threw him… like garbage… off the deepest cliff in Death Valley!!” I curled into a ball, digging my nails into the table. “I looked for him. For three months! I climbed every rock under that cliff! I only found… I only found pieces of his backpack… and…” I choked. “And a piece of his skull.” I hammered my chest, wailing. “They didn’t even leave me a body to bury! They wouldn’t even let me hug him one last time!!” My screams dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing. I slumped in the chair, broken. A hollow shell filled with sorrow. The room was silent. Miller loosened his grip. His eyes held shock, and maybe a sliver of pity. Blood for Blood. The motive was clear. “So you killed them?” I looked up through blurry eyes. “I said they deserved to die. I didn’t kill them… I hadn’t made my move yet. They just died! It was karma!” “I have nothing to hide now. I planned to kill them… but I don’t know why they died early.” “Ethan.” Miller’s voice changed. The interrogation tone was gone. It was eerily calm. I looked at him. He pulled out another item. A phone. Screen shattered. Covered in mud and dried brown stains. Heavy-duty outdoor case. Chloe’s phone. My pupils shrank to pinpricks. Impossible! I got rid of it! I remembered prying it from her stiff dead fingers and chucking it into the abyss! How is it here?!

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There was always a bottle of pesticide sitting on our dining table. Paraquat. A restricted herbicide. One sip, and your lungs turn to stone; you suffocate while fully conscious. There is no antidote. My parents would often slam that bottle down in front of me: “If you don’t study hard, you have no future! Are you trying to kill us?” “If you drop out of the top three in your class next exam, your mom and I are splitting this bottle right here!” They tightened the screws, day by day, until the day the SAT scores came out. I was the Valedictorian. Top fifty in the state. And I had a full-ride acceptance letter to an Ivy League university in my hand. That night, the Paraquat on the table was replaced by a bottle of cheap whiskey. Under the dim, flickering bulb of our kitchen, my dad drank half the bottle with a look of immense relief. He even dipped his chopsticks in the booze and fed a few drops to my paralyzed mother. “My girl made it,” they kept muttering, over and over. “My girl is going to be somebody.” I was drowning in the joy of finally escaping this hellhole. I didn’t know Dad had spiked the whiskey with the Paraquat. 1 The hospital hallway was a blur of noise and antiseptic smells. Someone patted my shoulder, eyes full of pity, telling me “sorry for your loss.” But I was still stuck in a state of paralyzed shock. Just the night before, the acceptance letter had arrived. The heavy, cream-colored envelope. It was my golden ticket, the only way I could imagine escaping this suffocating house. For as long as I could remember, my parents were the extreme version of “tiger parents,” but twisted by poverty and tragedy. They were nobodies outside, trampled by society, but at home, they were tyrants. When I was in fifth grade, a sedan hit my mom while she was riding her scooter. The rear wheel crushed her spine. She was paralyzed from the waist down instantly. She stayed in the hospital for three months. No improvement. The doctor hinted that if we didn’t have deep pockets, we should just go home. It was pointless. In the end, we ran out of money. My dad and a few of his construction buddies carried her home on a stretcher. The neighbors pitied me. They thought my mom was coming home to die. She didn’t die. But even though she couldn’t walk or feel her legs, her voice was louder than ever. She would scream at me: “Chloe! Turn me over!” “Chloe! Water!” “Chloe! Carry me to the toilet!” Our neighbor, Mrs. Miller, used to be Mom’s friend back when they worked at the textile mill. But Mrs. Miller’s husband went into sales and made some money. After Mom’s accident, Mrs. Miller loved to visit. She always brought her son, Brian. And she loved to brag. “My Brian won first place in the math league again. I’m telling you, this kid is going places!” “My husband says degrees are everything these days. Look at your Chloe’s grades… she’s not college material. Maybe she should just stay home and take care of you. Save your husband from working himself to death like a dog.” Everyone knew Mrs. Miller’s husband was never home and probably had a second family, but she projected her insecurities onto us. That day, Brian sat on our worn-out sofa eating McNuggets, dropping crumbs everywhere. I didn’t dare talk back to the adults, but the malice inside me was bubbling over. I looked at Brian and mouthed, Fat ass. Tiny dick. Brian had never seen such a vicious look on a girl. He started bawling. Mrs. Miller grabbed him and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. After that, Mom stopped asking me for water during the day. She wouldn’t drink a drop, even if I put the cup to her cracked lips. She refused to use the bathroom until Dad came home from the construction site at night, exhausted and covered in dust, to carry her. That was when their demands on me became singular. Study. Only study. It was singular, and it was suffocating. The summer before middle school, a group of college grads came to my dad’s site. While my dad broke his back in the heat, they stood in the air-conditioned trailer holding blueprints, pointing fingers. That night, Dad drank two shots and spat on the floor, cursing his fate. The next day, I brought home a mediocre report card. I tried to hide it until bedtime. Dad looked at me. A sound like grinding gears came from his throat. He walked out and came back with a bottle of Paraquat. In the sweltering heat of a mid-Atlantic summer, sweat dripped from his dark, sun-baked skin onto the table. He said: “If you don’t get into a top university, your mom and I will drink this right in front of you.” Mom, lying in the dark bedroom, yelled out: “That’s right! If you don’t study, if you lose to that fat kid next door, you can just watch your parents die!” Suddenly, a voice cut through my memory. “Chloe? Do you have any idea why your parents committed suicide?” I wiped the fog from my eyes. It was a policewoman. Why? Why did they do it? I had the acceptance letter. They were proud. Mom had even said, just hours ago, that when I made money, I had to buy her a condo with an elevator so she could see the sun again. She even threatened to drag her useless legs to my campus and make a scene if I wasn’t filial. Parents like that… they don’t just kill themselves. 2 “Chloe, think carefully. What happened in the last few days?” the policewoman asked gently. What happened? I sank into my memories. After the SAT scores came out, relatives we hadn’t seen in years suddenly appeared like vultures. My dad’s two sisters—Aunt Sarah and Aunt Helen—showed up with fruit baskets and red envelopes. “Brother, look at you! So poor, yet you raised such a genius,” Aunt Sarah beamed. Aunt Helen shoved an envelope into my hands. “Chloe is so smart. Ivy League, huh? It really is the Chen family genes. Brother, you were always the smart one.” Then, the pivot. Aunt Helen’s boss, the CEO of Vance Corp, had a son failing high school. Since I was the local Valedictorian, she asked if I could tutor him over the summer. My dad, a man beaten down by life, rubbed his hands nervously. We already had plans. My homeroom teacher knew our situation and got me a gig at a legit tutoring center. They were paying $50 an hour because of my scores. If I worked all summer, I could buy Mom a wheelchair, pay my freshman fees, and maybe get a smartphone. But Mom swept a lamp off the nightstand. Crash. “Helen! Don’t think I don’t know you!” she screamed from the bedroom. “You’re trying to sell my daughter for favors! I wouldn’t have lost my factory job if your mother hadn’t forced me to sign that layoff paperwork to ‘save the family’! I wouldn’t have been on that scooter! You sucked my blood then, and now you want to suck my daughter’s blood?!” “Get out!” Aunt Helen looked embarrassed, mumbling about how the Vance family pays well, but she wouldn’t give a number. Dad stood up, his face dark. “Leave!” They left, heels clicking angrily. But Aunt Helen’s husband was on the verge of being laid off. He needed to suck up to the boss. And then, Vance Corp announced a PR stunt: They would gift a condo to the top scholar in the district. Me. Aunt Sarah’s son was getting married, and his fiancée demanded a house. Aunt Helen leaked the news to Aunt Sarah. The sisters started tagging-teaming us. Two days ago, Aunt Sarah came back with her son and pregnant future daughter-in-law. They knelt at our door, begging to “borrow” the condo. “Brother! My grandson is coming! You can’t leave us to die!” “Uncle, please,” the girl sobbed. While they wailed outside, the FedEx guy delivered my acceptance letter. Aunt Sarah lost it. She pounded on the door. “Chloe will have a degree! She’ll have money! Helen told me the Vance kid will pay $100 an hour for tutoring! Help your family!” Inside, silence. Outside, chaos. Then, Aunt Sarah lowered her voice to a vicious hiss through the crack in the door: “Don’t think I don’t know what your Chloe did that night…” Dad exploded. He threw a plate of peanuts at the door. That night, we sat in the dark to save electricity. Dad smoked his cheap cigarettes, a silhouette of despair. “So…” the policewoman murmured, taking notes. “You suspect your aunts pressured them into suicide?” 3 Click. A camera shutter went off in the hallway. The policewoman jumped up. “No photos! Who let the press in?” She chased the reporter out, but the story was already spinning. A moment later, her phone rang. I overheard her. “What? Someone smashed Sarah and Helen’s windows?” The aunts had gone into hiding. When the police called Aunt Helen, she screamed over the phone. “It’s not my fault! Have you seen their house? That pesticide bottle was always on the table! It’s a miracle they didn’t drink it sooner!” “Guardian? Me? Hell no! Chloe is 18. In the old days, she’d have two kids by now. She doesn’t need a guardian!” I had heard those exact words before. A few days after the scores came out, I was walking home from a tutoring session. I had $100 in my pocket and a frozen durian fruit a parent had given me. It smelled awful, but it was expensive. I wanted my parents to taste it. Aunt Helen intercepted me downstairs. “Chloe,” she smiled, her wrinkles bunching up. “That tutoring gig with the Vance boy? I talked them up. $200 an hour.” $200? I hesitated. “It’s at my house. I’ll pick you up. It’s safe.” She looked down at the frozen fruit in my hand with disgust. “You do this, and you can buy fresh fruit for your parents. Not this frozen garbage.” I don’t know if it was the money or the shame of the fruit, but I went with her. I walked into the bedroom at Aunt Helen’s house. Inside, a boy with bleached blond hair grinned at me. The door locked behind me. That summer night was a blur of neon lights and pain. Like being torn apart by wild dogs. When I woke up, Aunt Helen stuffed five $100 bills into my pocket. “I got you an extra hundred. Keep your mouth shut.” She looked at my pale face and shrugged. “You’re 18. You’d have to face this stuff eventually. He’s rich. You should count yourself lucky. In the old days, girls your age were already mothers.” Back in the present, the policewoman returned with a medical report. She looked troubled. “Chloe… did you know your father had pancreatic cancer? Late stage.” 4 The local news cycle shifted fast. First, it was “Greedy Aunts Drive Genius’s Parents to Suicide.” Then, it became “Selfless Love: Dying Father and Paralyzed Mother Sacrifice Themselves to Not Burden Daughter.” The photo on the screen was old. Dad looked young and strong; Mom was sitting next to him, smiling shyly. Comments flooded in. 【Omg, tears. The dad knew he had cancer and didn’t want to drag his daughter down.】 【This is true parental love. They drank the poison so she could fly free.】 【Am I the only one worried about the girl? She’s barely 18 and totally alone.】 Soon, Vance Corp contacted the school. They wanted to go through with the condo donation and cover my tuition. But I had to show up to the ceremony. My teacher sounded nervous. “Chloe, the money is significant. What do you think?” I was silent for a long time. “I’ll go.” The police issued a statement: Suicide. The stone in my chest settled. That night, I sat on the hard wooden bed where Mom used to lie. The memory of that muddy night came back. I had run home from Aunt Helen’s house. Mom was in a rage. “Where were you?! Out whoring with Brian next door?!” I tried to turn her over. Her bedsores smelled like rot. It was the smell of poverty, a reminder that I couldn’t fight the rich. “Are you deaf?!” She screamed. I cleaned her up. “Mrs. Miller is a bitch! She doesn’t want you to study!” “Chloe, listen to me…” Suddenly, she stopped. Her withered hand grabbed my arm like a claw. “Chloe.” “What is that on your neck?” Dad came home and found Mom trying to slap me, dragging herself half off the bed. He rushed over. “What are you doing?!” Mom was gasping for air, tears streaming down her face. “Ask her! Ask your daughter what she did! Oh god…” They interrogated me. Who was it? I didn’t dare say. But Mom’s tears were hot on my hand. The landline rang. I walked past the urns on the table, past the empty pesticide bottle. It was Aunt Helen. Her voice was hushed, frantic. “Chloe, tell me. Where is Jared Vance? His mother is looking for him. He’s missing! Tell me where he is!”

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