Right before the SATs, my new homeroom teacher suddenly decided to implement “pressure cooking” education. I scored a 1550 on the mock exam, but my math score dropped by a measly 5 points. She still publicly roasted me in front of the whole class: “Today you drop 5 points, tomorrow you’ll score a 300. Keep slacking on math, and you won’t even get into community college!” Every class, she targeted me with impossible questions. If I couldn’t answer, I had to stand in the “shame corner” for the entire day. When I got bullied, she said, “It takes two to tango,” and told me to reflect on my own issues. When I called in sick with a fever, she bombarded the class group chat: “Being poor is one thing, but lying about being sick to skip class? Pathetic.” “If you can’t handle this little bit of pressure, just drop out. You’re better suited for flipping burgers!” Eventually, the psychological torture broke me. I bombed the SATs and didn’t get into any colleges. Meanwhile, the guy who was always second to me—Kyle—ended up as the state Valedictorian and snagged a massive scholarship. The day I went back to school to pick up my transcripts, I saw my teacher hugging Kyle, beaming. “That poor loser thought he could beat my son? The Valedictorian title belongs to you, honey.” I stormed in to confront them. In the struggle, they pushed me down the stairs. I broke my neck and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day the new teacher transferred in. 1 After failing to get into college, I felt like a walking corpse. My mind was consumed with thoughts of ending it all. My therapist diagnosed me with severe depression. I didn’t get it. I had grinded for twelve years, only to lose everything in the final battle. All my past glory instantly became worthless. Like my soul had been sucked out, I walked back to school to get my files. As I approached that office I both hated and feared, I heard a laugh. It sounded familiar. Suspicion pricked at me, and I moved closer without thinking. The voices became clearer. “That poor loser thought he could beat my son? The Valedictorian title belongs to you, honey.” “Haha, Mom, you’re amazing. You crushed him just by talking. I heard he’s clinically depressed now and wants to kill himself!” “Hmph, let him die. Anyone who can’t handle a little pressure deserves to be played.” Those words froze me to the bone. In an instant, everything clicked. Kyle, the guy I always beat, was Mrs. Lee’s son. The news always celebrates the Valedictorian. Who remembers the Salutatorian? So, there was no “pressure cooking” education. Mrs. Lee was targeting me on purpose! She wanted to break my spirit so her son could take the top spot! Rage instantly fried my brain. I kicked the door open and stormed in to confront them. Mrs. Lee immediately shielded Kyle behind her, denying everything. “Jason, stop talking nonsense! When did I target you? Failing the SATs is your own fault!” Kyle peeked out from behind her, hurling insults. “Ten years of sharpening a sword, only to find out it’s a needle when it’s time to fight. Hahaha, Jason, you’re a waste of space. Just admit it!” I roared in frustration, pulling out my phone to expose them. Mrs. Lee rushed over to grab it. In the struggle, they shoved me. I tumbled down the stairs, the back of my head slamming against the concrete steps. Lights out. Terrified, the two of them fled the scene. Later, Mrs. Lee destroyed the security footage and spread rumors online, claiming I “committed suicide at school due to depression.” I became a trending topic, a cautionary tale for the whole internet. My parents, forced to bury their child, cried until they had no tears left. Their hair turned white overnight, aging decades in a single day. I wasn’t ready to go. My soul wandered in limbo for who knows how long— When I opened my eyes again, I saw Mrs. Lee clicking into the classroom in her high heels, carrying a messy stack of mock exam papers. I stared at her in disbelief. She tossed the papers onto the podium, leaned forward on her hands, scanned the room, and locked eyes with me. “No pressure, no diamonds. We’re handing back the mock exams now. “Some students whose grades have tanked… go squat in the back corner yourself!” This familiar scene. It stopped my breathing for a second. Wait, I can breathe? I’m alive again! 2 The class knew a new homeroom teacher was coming. Rumor had it Mrs. Lee was a fan of “tough love.” Her students were always stressed out of their minds. Right now, everyone was stiff as a board, holding their breath, terrified of being made an example of. The mock exam was our lifeline. Those who weren’t confident were already sweating bullets. As scores were read out, Mrs. Lee ignored students who dropped dozens of points, just like in my past life. But when she got to my score, her brow furrowed instantly. “Jason! As the number one student in the class and the grade, why did your math score drop so much?!” “Today you drop 5 points, tomorrow you score a 300. With this kind of imbalance, you won’t even get into community college!” The rage from my past life was still burning. I almost stood up to expose her entire scheme right there. But I snapped out of it quickly. No evidence. Accusing her rashly would only make me look like a disrespectful student, giving her more ammo to target me. In my last life, her private messages robbed me of my future and my life. Just pointing out the truth wasn’t enough. How could I be satisfied with just that?! “Jason, go squat in the back!” Mrs. Lee pointed at me from the podium, her voice sharp. I sat in my seat, not moving an inch. “Why?” Mrs. Lee frowned deeper, clearly not expecting me to talk back. “Jason, are you deaf? Didn’t you hear me? Anyone whose grades dropped needs to go squat in the corner!” I tried my best to stay calm, forcing a fake smile. “Mrs. Lee, do I need to replay what you just said? You said ‘grades dropped significantly.’ I don’t think I fall into that category.” “As the top student, the pride of the class, dropping 5 points is worse than someone else dropping 50!” Mrs. Lee suddenly shouted, pointing to the back again. “I’ll say it one more time. Go squat in the back!” 3 I glanced at Kyle in the next row out of the corner of my eye. He was smirking, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, clearly enjoying the show. In my past life, I was terrified of being scolded by a teacher. I went to the back without complaint, squatting against the wall. The “gaze” of my classmates felt like knives stabbing my heart. Mrs. Lee kept twisting the knife, saying I was arrogant because I was number one, that I didn’t even take the questions seriously. She claimed my imbalance was intentional, a ploy for attention. She insinuated I was manipulative and impure, saying if I continued like this, I’d become the scum of the class and a cancer to society. I was belittled into nothingness. Just because I scored 5 points less in math, she painted me as an unforgivable sinner. Some classmates, jealous of my success, looked at me with pure schadenfreude as the teacher tore me apart. I squatted there for a whole period. Even when the bell rang, Mrs. Lee wouldn’t let me stand up. She opened the back door, letting students from other classes gawk at me like a zoo animal. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. I was filled with grievance. Later, my legs were so numb I couldn’t stand. I had to be helped to the nurse’s office, missing math class. From that day on, I lived like that until the SATs. Every day felt like a year. I hated school. The sight of the building terrified me; the bell made me want to vomit. “I’m talking to you! Do you hear me?!” Seeing no reaction, Mrs. Lee slammed her hand on the desk. The class jumped, looking between her and me. I couldn’t get angry. Couldn’t be scared. Otherwise, I’d fall into her trap. I kept calm, looked up at her, and held her gaze. “Sorry, I don’t think losing 5 points is a ‘significant drop,’ and I don’t believe being number one means I can’t lose a single point.” “I’m human. I have good days and bad days. Also, test scores depend on the difficulty of the questions.” “So, I’m not going.” In my classmates’ eyes, I was always the nerd who kept his head down and took whatever was dished out. Seeing me fight back now, their eyes widened in shock. A small group looked excited, eager to see what this “tough love” teacher would do. Mrs. Lee was furious, slamming the desk and yelling about rebellion. 4 “Jason! Do you think just because you have good grades, the teachers and students should pamper you?!” “Let me tell you, this arrogance will only ruin the class atmosphere!” “Class! Look closely! The SATs are coming up. Don’t let his behavior influence you, or you won’t get into college!” Mrs. Lee was trying to turn the whole class against me. I wasn’t going to let her win. I immediately fired back. “Mrs. Lee, let’s take a step back. What did Kyle, the second-place student, score?” Everyone looked at Kyle. Kyle twitched. “What does this have to do with me?” “Joke’s on you. Aren’t you in this class? Is Mrs. Lee’s new rule custom-made for me? The first place is arrogant, but the runner-up isn’t?” Kyle’s face darkened. Mrs. Lee immediately retorted. “Kyle’s total score increased by 10 points compared to last time. What is there to compare?” “What about the ranking?” I pressed, confident. Mrs. Lee paused. Kyle nervously gripped the edge of his desk. Because the SATs were approaching, the school didn’t rank the recent mock exams to avoid stressing the students. But I was too hard on myself. I always kept a mental scoreboard. Once the final math scores were out, I calculated everyone’s ranking. We were the honors class. 68 students. We almost always took the top 100 spots in the school. Being first in the class basically meant being first in the school. Ironically… this perfectionism was the main reason for my depression in my last life. But now, I was going to use this. I was going to use Mrs. Lee as a weapon to stab her precious son right in the heart! I couldn’t handle it in my last life. Now let’s see if Kyle, the eternal runner-up, can handle it!

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My whole family transmigrated into a book. My mom was a scammer, my dad was a thief. My sister had a body count (literally), and my brother sold the hard stuff. I was the only one who started as a fictional character—specifically, the tragic heroine of a angst-filled romance novel. The male lead stormed into my house, ready to force me into a “relationship.” As soon as he stepped through the door, my entire family was there, sharpening kitchen knives with murderous glints in their eyes. “So, you’re the punk making our girl cry?” 1 My life sucks. My dad is a gambling addict. But he thinks he’s a god at poker. The reason he loses nine times out of ten? Because my mom and I are “bad luck.” So every time he loses his shirt, he comes home and uses us as punching bags. But a year ago, he suddenly changed. He quit gambling. Quit smoking. Quit drinking. Every time he came home, he brought stacks of cash for my mom. He even bought me a Cartier bracelet and a Hermès bag. Said they were vintage, but guaranteed authentic. My mom thought he’d been possessed. She was so happy, like a freed slave. She hugged the bracelet and bag, hyperventilating with joy. Then she passed out from excitement. When she woke up… She changed too. Her eyes, usually clear and foolish, suddenly held a depth I couldn’t read. The first thing she said to me was: “Little girl, give me a hundred bucks. Auntie will help you get a Lululemon haul for zero dollars. Trust me, I’m a pro.” Before I could process that, my usually whiny, green-tea sister spoke up in a voice like a foghorn: “I want one. If you dare scam me, I’ll kill you. Don’t test me, I have a record.” She was playing with a kitchen knife. A chill ran down my spine. Suddenly, my brother slid up next to me, flashing a small packet hidden in his sleeve. He whispered: “Pure stuff. Top-tier high. You want some?” I was stunned. Petrified. “Bro, weren’t you trying to sell me off for a dowry to get a wife? Since when did you start dealing?” He rubbed his nose. “Sorry, occupational hazard. I meant to ask… do you want some catnip?” … My house was chaos. I decided to just roll with it. 2 That night, we had a family confession circle. Dad said: “I was a thief. Fell into an open manhole after a job one night and woke up here.” Sister said: “I was a murderer. The prison food was too good, I ate too fast and choked to death. Poof, here I am.” Brother said: “I was a drug dealer. Got shot during a deal gone wrong because the buyer tried to rip me off.” Mom said: “I was the last great MLM queen of Indonesia—” Dad, Brother, Sister, and I yelled in unison: “Tell the truth!” Mom twiddled her thumbs honestly: “Fine. I was a scammer. Got punched in the face while begging with a fake baby at a KFC. Woke up here.” Wow. A family of villains. I teared up. My original life config was: Gambling Dad, Sick Mom, Green Tea Sister, Jerk Brother. Now updated to Version 2.0: The Suicide Squad. My life sucks even more. I trembled. “I don’t have much money. I have three hundred bucks from shaking milk tea. Take it all, just please spare my life.” The four of them froze. Sister spoke first: “What are you talking about? We’re here to save you. You’re the heroine of a tragedy novel. Your future is miserable. Dumped, beaten, framed, forced, miscarried, imprisoned, wrist-slashed, jumping into the ocean. Why should everyone else enjoy life while you suffer?” She propped her leg on the coffee table. “I’ve got experience chopping people. I’ll just hack that guy, Christian, and solve the problem once and for all!” Dad looked serious. “Not ideal. I say I tunnel into his mansion and steal everything he owns. Make him poor. Robbing the rich to feed the poor is my specialty.” Mom nodded in agreement. “You steal the assets, I’ll drain his bank accounts. I have a thousand scam scripts; one of them will work on him.” Brother was succinct. “Too much hassle. I’ll just shoot him up with something strong. Let him OD.” I was moved, but shook my head frantically. “I don’t want you guys committing crimes for me. I promise I’ll stay far away from him.” Sister patted my head. “Don’t worry, sis. With us here, no one can bully you.” Dad pulled a handful of luxury watches from his pocket. “Dad’s treating. Hot pot tonight.” Brother pulled a stray calico cat out of nowhere with the catnip. “Here, a gift. For you to play with.” Mom leaned in close with a sincere smile. “Lend me that three hundred. Seriously, I’ll get you that Lululemon. I have a feeling that brand is gonna blow up.” “…” 3 Dad gave me a lot of pocket money. I saved it all. Just in case the family needed bail money someday. I kept shaking milk tea. Before, I worked to support the family. Now, I worked hoping they’d retire from crime early. To avoid the “Male Lead” they talked about, I barely spoke to any men. But I still fell into a trap. At a team-building event, I was forced to drink a shot of something strong. Blacked out. Woke up in a hotel suite. Clothes scattered. Hickeys everywhere. A man with an overpowering aura looked down at me with cold eyes. “I’ve seen plenty of women like you, scheming to climb into my bed. Not bad, though. Name your price.” In the past, I might have accepted my bad luck and asked for enough money to stop my dad from gambling or cure my mom. But now? This guy was just annoying. I put on my clothes calmly and said: “Let’s just say fate brought us together for a nap. Don’t worry about it, I don’t need money. Just don’t bother me again, or my family will be upset.” The man clearly didn’t expect that. Before I could leave, he grabbed my wrist. He frowned. “That’s not a normal reaction. What if I said you’re pretty enough to be my mistress?” He seemed to expect me to be thrilled. Instead, I checked the time. “It’s late. My mom’s calling me for dinner!” I wasn’t lying. I checked my phone outside. Over a hundred missed calls. Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister. Everyone was blowing up my phone. WeChat was exploding. Dad: [Who stays out all night at 23? Ask around!] Mom: [Baby, if he’s a good guy, use protection. If it’s Christian, go for the eyes then kick the balls.] Brother: [Send location. I’m coming to get you.] Sister: [SIS!!! WHERE ARE YOU!!! DID CHRISTIAN EAT YOU??? I told you I should have chopped him up!!! AHHH—] I went home guilty. I said I got drunk and crashed with a female coworker. The family sighed in relief. But while I was showering, my sister came in to brush her teeth. She saw the marks. She exploded. Screaming as she ran out. “Code Red! Code Red! That bastard Christian got to her! AHHH—” Twenty minutes later. The whole family sat around my bed, looking disappointed. I lowered my head, ready for a scolding. Dad raised his hand. I flinched reflexively. But his hand landed gently on my head, ruffling my hair. “We didn’t protect you well enough. Dad should have picked you up.” Mom sighed. “Are you hurt anywhere?” Brother said seriously: “Your coworkers probably set you up. I’ll investigate.” Sister grabbed a cleaver and headed for the door. “I’m killing him.” Brother dragged her back. I tried to tell myself it was just bad luck. But my eyes welled up. So this is what having a family feels like. I sniffled. “I won’t be careless again. I’m staying home.” Sister stood like a philosopher. “You can hide for a day, but not forever. Christian’s type? He’ll dig you out of the ground. We need a plan. We fight back!” The family agreed. They made a group chat immediately. Group Name: “Operation Castrate Christian.” The next second. The doorbell rang. My house was surrounded by men in black. 4 The leader claimed to be Christian’s butler. “Ms. Wen, Mr. Pei suffers from chronic insomnia, but he slept soundly with you. He would like to hire you as his exclusive sleep companion.” Behind the door, my family was rolling their eyes so hard they almost fell out. I asked: “What if I refuse?” The butler smiled silently and glanced at the goons behind him. Meaning: come willingly or be dragged. Sister gritted her teeth. “Let me chop him.” I gave everyone a reassuring look. We have a plan. Let’s do this. In the car. I kept updating the group chat. [This Rolls Royce is nice. Brother would love it.] [The estate is huge. Dad could plant so many flowers here.] [The snacks are delicious. Mom would love them.] [These dresses are expensive and pretty. I stuffed a few in my bag for Sister.] No reply. Twenty minutes later, I checked again. Still nothing. I told myself they were busy. But I felt uneasy. Stylists swarmed me. By the time they were done, it was late. I sat on the edge of the bed, hugging my knees, waiting. I hid my phone behind the tissue box. If Christian tried anything, I’d record it. 1 AM. Christian woke me up. He was in a bathrobe, freshly showered, smelling of expensive cologne and arrogance. I gripped the sheets. He leaned into my ear, chuckling darkly. “Thought you were playing hard to get? Yet here you are.” His voice was deep, vibrating in my chest. I scooched away. “Mr. Pei, let’s be clear. I’m here to help you sleep, not sleep with you.” He sneered and grabbed my chin. “Who do you think you are? Serving me is your honor.” He bit my lip hard. A warning. I tasted blood and struggled. But he pinned my hands. I remembered Mom’s advice. Just as I was aiming for his crotch… CLANG. A silver tray smashed into the back of Christian’s head. His eyes went wide, and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes. I kicked him aside. There was my mom, wearing a maid’s uniform, casually dusting off the tray. “Mom!” I whisper-shouted. “Why are you here?” Mom smirked. “Saw they were hiring. Came to protect you.” I was shocked. “Don’t they have high standards?” Mom blew on her nails. “Nah. Just fluent in eight languages, housekeeping, etiquette, and martial arts.” I gaped. “You know all that?” Mom said: “I know how to lie a little.” She pulled out another tray loaded with desserts and a pot of Earl Grey tea. “Baby, what do you want for breakfast? Order the expensive stuff. Mom will make the chef cook it.”

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On the day of high school graduation, in front of the entire class, I slapped a stack of cash onto Christian’s chest. “I’ve had my fun. We’re done.” He bent down, picking up the bills one by one from the floor. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Okay.” Summer ended. Christian boarded a train to Harvard Med. I flew to Switzerland to start a grueling round of chemo. Years later, I was back in the States, lying in a hospital bed, bald from the treatment. I was busy scrolling through wigs on my phone when the door opened. Christian, wearing a white coat, walked in. Our eyes met. 1 When Christian walked in, I was in a very undignified position—butt in the air, face buried in the pillow. My phone was blasting a livestream: “Black Friday sale! Don’t miss out, fam!” “Ms. Montez, shopping for wigs again?” The noisy ward fell silent. The nurse pointed at me. “Dr. Vance, this is the new patient for your group. She’s signed the consent forms.” The moment Christian looked over, I froze. My brain went blank. It had been ten years. The man I thought I’d never see again was now my attending physician. And he caught me doing yoga stretches on a hospital bed. Kill me now. I scrambled up, adjusting my crooked face mask. Silence. I didn’t dare look him in the eye, but I could feel his gaze on me. It was cold. Zero warmth. Nothing like the gentle, exasperated look he used to give me when I messed up a math problem. “Ms. Montez, this is Professor Christian Vance. He’ll be in charge of your treatment plan.” I avoided his eyes and gave a quick nod. Didn’t make a sound. The intern next to him, holding a clipboard, started reading my history like a good student. “Luna Montez, female, 28. Ten years ago, a physical revealed enlarged cervical lymph nodes. Initial diagnosis was Non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Further pathology showed—” “Skip the history.” “Huh? Do you know the patient, sir?” My heart was in my throat. I pretended to be busy with my phone. I felt Christian’s gaze land on my ridiculous sheep-horn beanie. After a long pause, he said flatly, “I don’t know her. Her case is unique, so I reviewed it beforehand.” My phone auto-jumped to the checkout page. The payment countdown was ticking. Seconds passed. I zoned out, finger hovering over the “Buy” button but never pressing it. The intern dutifully reported the treatment plan. Christian listened, his tone devoid of emotion. “Okay. Continue current treatment. Re-examine tomorrow.” Then, he moved to the next patient. Rounds lasted twenty minutes. He didn’t look at me again until he left. I moved my stiff neck and realized my back was soaked in sweat. The wig I wanted was sold out because of the distraction. Ugh, just my luck. But the silver lining was: Christian had forgotten me. Even when the intern said my name, he didn’t react. 2 Christian and I didn’t start off on the right foot. Back in high school, I was a rich brat—terrible grades, worse attitude. My homeroom teacher made Christian my desk mate to “influence” me. At first, Christian ignored me. He just did practice tests, over and over. He was smart, nice, handsome. His only flaw was being poor. I was the opposite. Dumb, mean, rich. Sitting next to him, I felt like a brainless ATM. But I had charm. While other girls wrote him love letters, I bought him SAT prep books. I paid for all his study materials. In less than a semester, I bagged him. The day I kissed Christian, it was his birthday. His white shirt was rumpled, his lips stained with my lipstick. He looked down, eyes hooded. “What does this mean?” It was my first time kissing a guy. My brain short-circuited. I stammered, “D-don’t you get it? Be my boyfriend.” Christian’s ears turned red. He whispered, “Okay.” Those days were beautiful. I hated studying, but I sat obediently next to him, letting him tutor me. In a year, my SAT score went up by 300 points. I calculated it—I could get into a college in Boston. No long-distance relationship necessary. If only that physical hadn’t happened… “Ugh—” The sound of me retching echoed in the ward. I hugged the toilet bowl, seeing stars, covered in cold sweat. My bestie patted my back. “This isn’t working. You’re reacting too strongly. I’m getting a doctor.” I grabbed her hand. “Don’t. I’m used to it.” Twenty-seven rounds of chemo abroad, all alone. I survived that. I fought for ten years. Now it’s back. Who knows how much longer I’ll suffer? I didn’t want to be the annoying patient. My bestie wouldn’t let it go. “Isn’t Christian your doctor? I’ll find him. He’ll help.” I hugged her leg. “Girl, please. Be quiet. You should be glad he didn’t recognize me. If he did, he’d prescribe a hundred rounds of chemo just for spite.” “Who told you that you need a hundred rounds?” A cool voice came from behind. I stiffened. I didn’t dare turn around. My bestie sighed in relief. “Dr. Vance, Luna isn’t feeling well—” “It’s a normal reaction to chemo. If she can’t handle it…” I didn’t hear the rest. My brain was screaming: Did he hear what I just said? 3 That evening, a nurse came to give me an anti-nausea shot. She probed, “Do you know Professor Vance?” I flopped onto the bed, dead inside. “Nope. Why?” “He never micromanages like this. He specifically went to the attending physician and ordered this shot for you.” I looked in the mirror. Gaunt. Pale. Sickly. Compared to ten years ago, I looked like a different species. Impossible… Christian has a good memory, but— Wait. He has a great memory. What if he’s holding a grudge? The name “Luna Montez” was on the chart. How could I think he wouldn’t know? My bestie chimed in, “Your Professor Vance is only 28, right? A professor so young?” “Wow, you know your stuff! He did an accelerated MD-PhD program. Graduated at like 26. He’s a unicorn. Regular people can’t compare.” Seeing my bestie’s interest, the nurse laughed. “Planning to chase him? Save your energy. He’s taken.” My bestie winked at me. Then the nurse added, “The Dean’s daughter. Ivy League grad. They might get married any day now.” My bestie’s smile froze. I picked at a loose thread on my hospital gown, suddenly finding it fascinating. After the nurse left, my bestie whispered, “Luna, sorry…” “Eh, what for?” “I’m 28, not 18.” The dream of the cold, aloof genius falling for me died ten years ago. 4 I didn’t see Christian after that. I heard about him, though. Academic conferences, research labs. He did rounds once a week to check meds. Between chemo cycles, patients could go home. So until I was discharged, I didn’t see him. On the way home, my high school class president called. “Luna! You still in Boston? How’s treatment?” Background noise was loud. The class rep jumped in. “Why didn’t you tell us you were sick? If the Prez didn’t mention it, we wouldn’t have known.” I was popular back then. I still kept in touch. I laughed awkwardly. “Didn’t want to bother anyone.” “Don’t say that. Where do you live? We’re coming over tomorrow.” I couldn’t say no. I gave them the address. My parents spent a fortune on my treatment. Thanks to my bestie, I found a cheap rental in the city. First floor, south-facing yard. If I got better, I could plant flowers, maybe get a dog. Most of my classmates stayed in our hometown. Only a few were scattered around. So only five or six people showed up. They brought groceries. “We were gonna do hotpot, but it’s hot. Let’s stir-fry.” I wore a thick beanie. “It’s fine, we have AC. I want hotpot.” Everyone swarmed the kitchen. The house came alive. It felt like graduation all over again. The Prez was washing veggies. “Have you contacted Christian?” I froze. “What?” “Dude, didn’t you know? He’s a hematology expert. specializes in lymphoma. You should ask him.” “Oh, I—” I really didn’t want to get involved with Christian. Then the doorbell rang. The Prez wiped his hands and opened the door. Cheers erupted. “Christian! You made it!” “Whoa, Professor Vance, long time no see.” “Come in! Luna wants hotpot. You’re the expert, can she eat it?” I stood there like an idiot. Unwashed face. No mask. Exposed. I never expected them to invite him. Or for him to see me like this. Christian looked at me calmly. “Clear broth is fine.” “Okay, okay! Clear broth it is!” Everyone got busy again. Christian changed into the slippers the Prez offered. He handed a bag of fruit to someone in the kitchen. The Prez tried to smooth things over. “Hey, let bygones be bygones. Christian, be the bigger man. Don’t hold a grudge against Luna.” Someone shoved a colander of spinach into Christian’s hands. He was pushed onto the sofa opposite me. Suddenly, it was just the two of us in the living room. The AC hummed in the corner. I avoided his eyes, fumbling for the mask in my back pocket. Snap. Christian broke a spinach stem. “I already recognized you. Is there a point in hiding?”

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When I found out the Prom Queen had made a bet to ruin my brother’s chances at college, I made a choice. I hugged my little piggy bank tight and went to find the town’s most notorious villain—a guy whose family had just gone bankrupt. “If you can protect my brother,” I told him, “I’ll give you my entire allowance. All of it.” Later, when the Prom Queen brought my brother breakfast, the villain spiked it with laxatives. When she asked my brother to a midnight movie, the villain crouched by the wall and unleashed a rabid dog to chase them… And right before the biggest exam of their lives, when the Prom Queen faked an illness to lure my brother away… The villain pinned him against the wall and threatened, “If you don’t get into an Ivy League, your sister belongs to me!” My brother: “Wait, what??” Chapter 1 In the morning, I stood at the school gates, clutching my piggy bank and craning my neck like a turtle, waiting for Shane. He was the tyrant of Northwood High. And in my dreams, he was the ultimate villain. Last night, I had a vision. I dreamed that because my brother, Ethan, got involved with the school’s golden girl, Chloe, his grades tanked. He even got his right hand broken in a fight defending her honor. On the day of the SATs, he chose to skip the test to save Chloe from a “kidnapping.” But in reality? It was all just a bet Chloe made with her friends to see if she could ruin him. The guy she actually liked was Jared. Jared was the son of my dad’s new wife, Jolene. Chloe’s goal was just to make Jared jealous, and to help him by removing my brother—his biggest academic rival—from the scoreboard. In the dream, after graduation, Chloe and Jared got into Stanford together. They became the internet’s favorite scholar couple. And my brother? He failed. People said his past grades were cheated. They called him a homewrecker who tried to get between Chloe and Jared. My dad kicked him out of the house. We only found out later, when the police called. He had slit his wrists in a bathtub. Jared inherited my family’s entire fortune. And me? One day, Jolene took me shopping and “accidentally” left me on the side of the highway. I was hit by a truck. I was only five years old. But in that dream, I also saw Shane. His family used to be the biggest real estate developers in the state. Three months ago, they went bankrupt. His dad jumped off a building, and his mom had a mental breakdown and was hospitalized. From then on, Shane became dark and violent. Fighting became his daily routine. But three years after graduation? He became a Wall Street shark, a financial predator who went toe-to-toe with Jared’s company and nearly drove him into the ground. He was the only monster scary enough to save us. “Hey, shortstack. You’re blocking the road.” A cold, deep voice dropped from above. I looked up into a pair of pitch-black eyes. Shane was half a head taller than my brother. His black school blazer was unbuttoned, showing a white tee underneath. There was a fresh cut near his left eye, probably from a fight. “Big brother,” I gulped. “Can I pay you money to protect someone?” He looked terrifying. Shane raised an eyebrow at me. “Kid, go find a cop if you want protection. I don’t do murder and arson.” He reached out and flicked my piggy bank. The guys around him burst out laughing. My face burned hot instantly. I stammered, “No… no. I want to ask you to help my brother.” Shane shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at me. “Who’s your brother?” “Ethan. Ethan Xu from Class 2. They say… they say you run this school! Please, I’m begging you, save my brother.” “He went out last night and didn’t come back. He won’t answer his phone.” I started to sob. Last night, I overheard my brother’s phone call. Chloe asked him to a bar for her birthday. In my past life, she rigged a game of Truth or Dare there, forced him to choose Dare, and he ended up locked in an abandoned factory all night, missing his mock exams the next day. I wasn’t sure if Shane would help. The only time Ethan and Shane ever crossed paths was on a rainy night two months ago. Shane had been beaten up in an alley. When Ethan and I walked by, we called 911. Ethan even put his jacket over Shane while we waited for the ambulance. Hearing the name “Ethan,” Shane paused. He reached out, took my piggy bank, and roughly wiped the tears off my face with his thumb. Chapter 2 “Even the Boy Scout gets into trouble, huh?” “Consider this the down payment.” I froze, stunned that he agreed so quickly. Shane pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kyle, track Ethan’s location. Yeah, the Valedictorian, Ethan.” When he hung up, I grabbed his sleeve. “Can I go too?” He glanced at me. “You get carsick?” “No!” I answered way too fast, terrified he’d change his mind. Shane raised an eyebrow, then suddenly bent down and scooped me up like a sack of potatoes, tucked me under his arm, and marched toward a black motorcycle by the curb. I barely got the helmet on before the engine roared and we shot forward. He drove like a maniac. He ran three red lights and weaved through traffic like he had a death wish. My stomach started to churn. My vision went black around the edges. When the bike slammed to a halt, my breakfast surged up to my throat. The inside of the helmet filled with the sour smell of fermentation. Oh no. I was gonna hurl. “Shortstack, if you dare puke in my helmet, you’re dead!” Shane’s voice yelled. He ripped the helmet off my head just in time. The world suddenly got bright. I swallowed the vomit back down—hard—and stood there with tears and snot smearing my face. He lifted me off the bike like a wet kitten, looking disgusted, and shoved a bottle of water into my hands. “Rinse.” I was so dizzy I just chugged half the bottle. He stared at me, eyes wide, like he was looking at a ghost. I felt awkward. Was that not right? Shane parked the bike and frowned at the factory ahead. “Why would a straight-A student run off to a dump like this?” His crew pulled up on their bikes behind us. “Yo, is this place haunted?” Kyle asked, shivering. Shane walked in front, glaring back at him. “Shut up.” “But Boss, this place is slated for demo. I saw the ‘Demolition’ sign on the wall. Kid, what’s your brother doing here? If he gets buried alive, we won’t find the body for years.” My hand shook, and I almost dropped the piggy bank. My voice trembled. “My brother is scared of ghosts. Do you think a ghost ate him?” The gang members behind us gasped and exchanged terrified looks. Shane scoffed. He reached out and ruffled my hair. “If a ghost ate him, I’d make it spit him out.” His words made me feel weirdly safe. We searched room by room until we found him in the furthest workshop. My brother was sitting on a wooden chair, back to us. His hands were tied behind him with rope, and he was trying to saw through it using the sharp edge of the chair. “Ethan!” I couldn’t help but scream. My brother whipped his head around. His eyes went round when he saw us. “Lily? What are you doing here?” His expression wasn’t just surprised; it was embarrassed. Shane raised a brow and signaled the guys behind him. Two of them stepped up and cut the ropes. I rushed forward and hugged him, tears streaming down my face. “You didn’t come home! I was so worried! I thought bad guys took you!” Ethan’s face stiffened. He patted my back. “I… I just went to celebrate Chloe’s birthday. I lost a game. They were going to come untie me in half an hour.” Shane let out a cold laugh. “This place is in the middle of nowhere. It takes thirty minutes just to drive here from the city. You think she’s coming? I saw her eating breakfast with Jared.” Ethan’s face instantly turned pale. Chapter 3 “Impossible,” Ethan whispered. “She said it was just a game punishment.” “Heh. You got played, nerd,” Shane deadpanned. I was angry. I couldn’t imagine how scared my brother must have been alone here all night. “Wait… what time is it? I have to get back for the exam!” Ethan suddenly remembered the test. He looked at Shane. “Can I borrow your phone to call home? I’ll ask our driver, Mr. Lee, to pick up Lily.” Shane raised an eyebrow and tilted his chin at Kyle. “Kyle, you take Ethan back to school on your bike.” Ethan blinked. “Aren’t you guys taking the exam?” Kyle grinned. “I could throw the test on the ground and stomp on it, and it’d still score higher than me. My dad’s donating a building so I can get into college anyway! And Shane? He’s not going. We got a rumble with the Northside High crew.” Shane shot him a glare. Kyle shut his mouth. Watching my brother disappear on the back of the motorcycle, panic seized me. Go home? But home had Jolene. And the big dog. My heart started hammering, my breath coming in short gasps. Shane straddled his bike, ready to lift me on. I twisted my body, dodging his hands. “Shortstack? You want to stay here and wait for the ghosts?” He looked at me, confused. “I… I don’t want to go home,” I whispered, my voice as small as a mosquito. “Why?” Why? Because Jolene’s pitbull loved to bare its teeth at me. Because whether I did something wrong or not, if Jolene was in a mood, she’d lock me in the cage. She wouldn’t let me use the bathroom. If I peed myself, she’d laugh at me loud enough for the neighbors to hear, then tell Dad I did it on purpose to cause trouble. “Dad’s new wife doesn’t like me. She keeps a big dog, and she bought a big cage,” my voice choked up. “When Dad and Ethan aren’t home, she puts me in the cage and leaves the dog outside it.” “She said I can’t tell Ethan or Dad, or she’ll drown me.” Ethan lived in the dorms and only came home on weekends. Once, Jolene beat me until my backside was bruised. I tried to tell Ethan, but she put laxatives in his food so he was too sick to listen. Jolene threatened me: if I didn’t shut up, next time it would be rat poison. My dad was busy. Jolene never let him be alone with me. The one time I went into his study to find him, he wasn’t there. When he came back, he found his computer soaked with water and files torn up. The maid said only I had been in there. I stood in the corner all night as punishment. Shane’s expression turned terrifying. “What the hell? What century is this? Evil stepmother? Is your dad dead?” “No,” I answered blankly. “Is there a difference?” he muttered. He scooped me up with one arm, put the helmet on me, and his movements were a lot gentler this time. “Hold on tight,” he ordered. “Where are we going?” I yelled over the wind. “My place.” Twenty minutes later, we pulled into a run-down apartment complex. Shane carried me inside. When the door opened, an old man with white hair was watching TV. He looked surprised. “Master Shane? Aren’t you at school? Why are you back so early?” Master Shane? But wasn’t Shane’s family broke? “Old Joe, this is a classmate’s sister. She’s crashing here. Her brother… saved my life once.” Shane seemed to respect this old man. He briefly explained my situation. When he mentioned the dog cage, Old Joe’s face filled with shock and horror. “What a sin! Little girl, don’t be afraid. No one dares bully you here at Grandpa Joe’s.” Chapter 4 Old Joe shook his head and sighed, then immediately shooed Shane out the door. “Master Shane, go take your exam! Hurry, or you’ll be late!” “Remember, don’t hand in a blank paper! And don’t forget to write your name!” Shane covered his ears, looking annoyed. “I know, I know.” After the door closed, Old Joe showed me around. Even though the family was bankrupt, the three-bedroom apartment was warm and cozy. He made me lunch and gave me a pile of snacks. Old Joe rambled on about Shane’s childhood. He said Shane was actually a soft-hearted kid, just bad at showing it. In the evening, Shane came back. Trailing behind him was a depressed-looking Ethan. “Ethan! Why are you here?” I jumped up in surprise, but froze when I saw his face. Ethan slumped onto the sofa, eyes dead. “I got caught cheating.” My eyes widened. “Impossible! Your grades are perfect. Why would you cheat?” Shane threw his bag on the sofa and smirked. “He didn’t cheat. I did.” Old Joe and I looked at him, confused. Turns out, during the test, the guy sitting in front of Ethan threw a paper ball back. Before Ethan could react, Shane, sitting next to him, snatched it. The proctor demanded they hand it over. Shane shoved the paper into his mouth and swallowed it whole right in front of everyone. “Teacher told me to write a self-reflection essay due Monday,” Shane said nonchalantly. Then he raised an eyebrow at Ethan. “That note was from your goddess, Chloe.” Ethan looked incredulous. “H-how do you know it was Chloe?” “Because I saw her pass it to the guy in front of you,” Shane sneered. “Don’t tell me it was a love letter. Who passes love letters during a midterm?” “Want me to vomit it up so you can see if it’s a poem or the answer key?” “She… maybe she just…” Ethan stammered. “Maybe what? Maybe she suddenly realized our Valedictorian is handsome and fell in love?” Shane’s shoulders relaxed. “Last time it rained, I forgot my umbrella. She lent me hers. I see her feeding stray cats on campus. Maybe you misunderstood her. She’s kind.” Shane scoffed. “That makes her kind? Ethan, did studying rot your brain?” He gave Ethan a meaningful look. “Stay away from her. Or you’ll be sold for spare parts and you’ll be the one counting the money for them.” “I know,” Ethan whispered. He looked so defeated it made my chest tight. I knew Ethan wouldn’t actually stay away. He was too soft. If someone showed him even a tiny bit of kindness, he would return it a thousand times over, even if they didn’t deserve it. Outside, the sky was completely dark. Ethan suddenly stood up. “Lily, I’ll take you home. Dad is back from his business trip tonight. We can’t keep bothering Shane.” My body went stiff. “I don’t want to go!” “If you put half the effort you put into Chloe into your sister, maybe you’d have noticed she was being abused,” Shane said, his voice icy. “Lily was abused?” Ethan looked stunned. Old Joe explained what Jolene did to me. Ethan stumbled back, eyes full of shock and guilt. “I’m going back to ask! If she really did that to Lily… I won’t let her get away with it!”

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During the cold war with my Sugar Daddy, I accidentally slapped his childhood sweetheart. Overnight, the internet cancelled me. The hate was overwhelming. Meanwhile, my Sugar Daddy was silent. Dead silent. Like, actually deceased. In a fit of rage, I fired up a livestream and roasted him onto the Trending page. “Julian Black? Yeah, we dated. He’s mid.” “And for the record, I dumped him.” “Oh, the reason? Nothing major. Just that he’s old, bad in bed, and has the stamina of a sloth. I’m thinking of dating a college jock next. Someone with working knees.” The internet said I was crazy. No one dares to drag Julian Black. Shortly after I killed the stream, my front door was literally removed from its hinges. Julian Black stood there, eyes dark and dangerous, loosening his tie as he cornered me against the wall. “Go on,” he growled, “tell me about this college jock you’re planning to date.” Chapter 1 I’m known in Hollywood as the innocent “Sweetheart.” Pure looks, sweet voice, heart of gold. I spent three years crafting this persona. It collapsed in a single night. Chapter 2 Recently, I’ve been filming a high-budget fantasy series. It’s the dead of winter, and I’m stuck wearing flimsy chiffon robes, flying around on wires, and filming underwater scenes. Work sucked enough as it was. Then she showed up. I was in the makeup chair when I saw the director bowing and scraping to a girl with immaculate makeup. He gave her the VIP tour and even let her sit in his chair behind the monitors. Crew whispered she was a rep from the investment firm. Her name was Chloe Summers. I didn’t care. until I started getting NG’d (No Good) constantly. If I messed up, I’d redo it a hundred times, no complaints. But this wasn’t that. Someone just wanted to watch me freeze to death on a wire. I did that outdoor scene twenty-three times. Finally, they swapped in a stunt double. One take. Done. The director looked embarrassed and told me to rest. My assistant wrapped me in a down jacket as we walked to the trailer. Passing the monitors, Chloe leaned back, looking me up and down with a sneer. “Hollywood really has zero standards these days. They let any trash become an actress.” I was shivering too hard to fight back. Plus, I didn’t know who she was. You don’t slap the money. Back in the trailer, I asked my assistant to dig up dirt on Chloe. Before I got answers, I had an underwater scene. Same playbook. No matter how I acted, it was an NG. Even when the director’s eyes lit up with approval, Chloe would claim the “emotion wasn’t right” and demand a reshoot. This scene was a close-up. No stunt doubles. By the end, I was hypothermic and dizzy. I’m a pushover, sure, but everyone has a breaking point. I refused to go back in the water and walked straight up to Chloe. The director wisely cleared the set. I started polite. “Miss Summers, did I offend you somehow?” Chloe kept that arrogant look. “You? You’re not important enough to offend me.” I smiled coldly. “Then why the hazing? I don’t mind suffering for art, but wasting the crew’s time and burning through the budget? That’s your money going down the drain.” Chloe scanned me again, her eyes full of disgust. “There’s a wall between real talent and ‘resource’ girls like you, Stella.” She paused, smirking. “To get to where you are… I wonder how many beds you had to hop through?” That was it. I hate slut-shaming. I don’t care who she is. One more minute of this and I’d be in the ER anyway. I slapped her. Hard. Her face snapped to the side, a red handprint blooming on her pale skin. She stared at me in disbelief. “Stella Hart! You dare hit me?!” “Yeah, I dare. Since your mother didn’t teach you manners, I’ll do it for her.” I pulled my jacket tighter. “I don’t know you. But if you insult me again or treat this crew’s work like a game, I’ll hit you again.” It’s 40 degrees out. You think you can freeze me and abuse me without consequences? I turned to leave. Chloe lunged to grab me. I shook her off. We were standing by the edge of the set pool. There was loose gravel. Chloe slipped and—splash—fell gracefully into the freezing water. Me: … The set went into chaos. Filming was canceled. As the ambulance took Chloe away, my assistant came back with the intel. I finally understood the malice. Chloe Summers is Julian Black’s childhood friend. She just got back from Europe. And Julian Black? He’s my Sugar Daddy. Chapter 3 I’ve been with Julian for three years. Never heard of a “childhood friend” or a “first love.” This blindsided me. I called his phone. Straight to voicemail. Called his assistant. No answer. Checked WeChat. Our last text was two days ago. Then I remembered. Before I left for the shoot, we had a fight. I had just finished a press tour and had two rare days off. Julian asked me to clear my schedule for next April to go to Northern Europe. But I had already locked in an arthouse film for April. Huge director, Oscar bait. I refused to drop it. His face had gone dark. “Stella, does everything come before me?” “I have to book an appointment four months in advance just to see you now?” “Am I just an accessory to your career?” He sounded bitter. I was exhausted. I cleared two days just to see him, and he was being passive-aggressive. I snapped. “Julian, you said you wouldn’t interfere with my work.” “I told you, I will never give up my career for a man.” We ended on bad terms. He took a call and left in a hurry. Then I went to film. Looking back, I regretted it. I should have explained better. Usually, he’s the one who compromises. This total radio silence? That was new. I felt a pit in my stomach. I called again. Off. I texted him: Ignoring me? You think you’re cool? I accidentally slapped your little childhood friend today. Thoughts? Still nothing. Fine. I’m annoyed now. I went to sleep. Chapter 4 My agent’s scream woke me up. “Stella Hart! When did you declare war on the Summers family?!” “They are blacklisting you! Do you understand?!” “How are you sleeping right now?!” I groggily checked my phone. The internet was a dumpster fire. Fake diva. Green tea bitch. Bully. Escort. Every dirty label imaginable was trending next to my name. I explained the situation to my agent. She sighed. “The fake rumors, we can sue. But the endorsements and scripts… I’ve gotten ten cancellation calls this morning. Summers Corp is crushing us.” “We can’t fight them, Stella. Can you… call Mr. Black?” I scratched my messy hair. “Can’t. We’re in a cold war. He’s ghosting me. Consider us broken up.” “Plus, I slapped his childhood bestie. He’s probably on her side.” Agent: … She hung up to do damage control. I lay in bed, exhausted. This was my second time being cancelled. The first was when I was a rookie. I had no background, just luck and a pretty face. Then a nepo baby named Justin Banks tried to “buy” me. I refused. He tried to blacklist me. I was young and reckless. I figured if I couldn’t act, I’d quit. But before I quit, I waited outside his VIP club, threw a hoodie over his head, and beat the crap out of him in the parking lot. As I was dusting off my hands, I saw Julian. He was leaning against a Maybach, white shirt unbuttoned, unlit cigarette in his fingers. In the dark, he smirked. “Nice right hook.” I knew who he was. Untouchable. But I had a crazy idea. If I needed a backer in this town, I should pick the biggest one. “Mr. Black, I’m in the market for a Sugar Daddy. Interested?” He paused. “Sugar Daddy?” He tapped the car window. “Any other titles available?” I shook my head. I just needed someone to get me gigs. He was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Deal.” That’s how we started. With him, Justin Banks ran away with his tail between his legs. For three years, Julian never interfered with my work. He was open about us, even if I tried to hide it. Once, I refused his resources to avoid gossip. He told me: “Stella, don’t play the martyr. Refusing my help to suffer on your own isn’t noble, it’s stupid.” “Besides, am I embarrassing you? Am I not presentable?” Julian was very presentable. But now he was ignoring me. So he was useless. Chapter 5 Maybe I was sick from the pool incident, but I slept all day. When I woke up, it was dark. Called Julian. Voicemail. Checked texts. Nothing. Opened Twitter. The company issued a statement, but then Justin Banks—that trash—went live. He insinuated I tried to seduce him back in the day and failed. He claimed I found a new backer, but now the backer was getting married, so I was kicked to the curb. Celebrities started liking his post. The hate comments surged. I knew she looked too innocent to be real. Hollywood mattress. Get out of the industry, Stella. She was a mistress trying to wreck a marriage? Gross. Justin Banks raised my blood pressure. Opportunistic weasel. He saw Julian was quiet and came back for a bite. Fine. He kicked the wrong iron plate. You want a livestream? I can do that too. I have receipts on all of them. Before I started, I texted Julian one last time. Julian Black, keep playing dead if you want. Just remember, I dumped YOU. Then I blocked and deleted him. And hit “Go Live.”

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Chapter 1 At the company’s anniversary gala, the newly appointed CEO made her debut. She was stunning. I mean, drop-dead gorgeous. So, naturally, being the idiot I am, I tried to sneak a pic of my hot new boss to send to my boys. Caption: Check out the new boss. Total smoke show. But I got caught in 4K. She snatched my phone, her face like ice. “Focus on the company’s Q3 goals, not your hormones. Get your head out of the gutter.” My face burned so hot I thought I’d set off the sprinklers. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. To salvage whatever was left of my career, I rushed to the CEO’s office right after the party, hoping to explain myself. I knocked, entered, and then froze. There, sitting on her pristine mahogany desk, was a clay figurine. Not just any figurine. It was the goofy, hand-painted one I spent three days making for my online girlfriend’s birthday last week. It even had my initials, S.C., carved into the base. My scalp tingled. The room started spinning. The terrifying new CEO… is my girlfriend of three years. … The realization hit me like a freight train. I stood there, gaping at the woman I’d never met in person but had texted “goodnight” to for over a thousand days. “That figurine…” I stammered. “My boyfriend made it.” Natalie Quinn reached out and gently touched the clay head. Her eyes, usually razor-sharp, softened for a split second. Then, the mask slammed back down. She glared at me. “That’s none of your business. Don’t ask questions above your pay grade.” “Why are you here?” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to look anywhere but at the figurine. “Ms. Quinn, about the photo… I wasn’t being a creep. It’s just… you look exactly like my girlfriend. I couldn’t help it.” Okay, it sounded like a pickup line from hell. But ironically, it was the only honest thing I’d said all day. Natalie scoffed. “Do you think I was born yesterday? That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.” “With those leering eyes of yours, I doubt any girl with 20/20 vision would date you.” My face fell. Great. My online girlfriend thinks I’m a creep. I mentally kicked my friend who begged for the photo. I also mentally roasted Natalie. Online, she’s all “UWU” and sweet emojis. In person? She’s a dragon lady. And wait—didn’t she say she was a struggling intern? Since when do interns run Fortune 500 companies? Chapter 2 I walked out of her office and immediately pulled out my phone. I sent a “spanking” sticker to her on our chat app. She replied instantly. Hubby! What’s wrong? Who upset you? 🥺 Through the crack in her office door, I saw Natalie grinning at her phone, feet kicking happily under the desk. The difference between her “CEO Face” and her “Girlfriend Face” was giving me whiplash. I typed back, grinding my teeth: Just got roasted by my female boss. She said no girl would ever want a loser like me. Her phone blew up. WHAT?! How dare she talk to my man like that! 😡 My hubby is literally the best guy on the planet! Your boss needs Lasik! Babe, when we meet up in a few days, I swear I won’t let anyone bully you. Yeah, right. The only person bullying me is you. I’ve been slaving away here for two years, and suddenly my e-girl is signing my paychecks and insulting my face. I was annoyed. Petty, even. I decided to delay our meetup. Let her sweat a bit. Me: I’m slammed with work. Can’t do this month. Her: What?! Her: NOOOO! Babe, I’ve been waiting forever! 😭😭😭 She spammed me with crying cat memes. I ignored them. I was too busy processing the fact that my life had turned into a bad soap opera. Chapter 3 My little ghosting act had consequences. Dire ones. Natalie became a tyrant. The whole office was trembling. Marketing got chewed out. Finance got roasted. And then, the eye of Sauron turned to my department. Because of a typo—a single typo—in a proposal, she dragged my whole team into her office and shredded us verbally. My coworkers looked like they were about to cry. She sat there, looking like the Ice Queen, nothing like the sweet girl who sends me voice notes about her day. Little liar, I muttered under my breath. “Sam, you got something to say?” Damn, she has hearing like a bat. She stared me down. The pressure was suffocating. “No, Ms. Quinn,” I lied through my teeth. “I was just saying how inspiring your leadership is. I’ll cherish this feedback forever.” She raised a brow. “Good.” “You’ve got a glib tongue. Let’s see if your work matches it.” ” since you’re so inspired, redo the entire proposal yourself. I want it on my desk by 5 PM tomorrow.” My jaw dropped. My coworkers looked at me with pure pity. That was a three-person job, and she gave me 24 hours. She was hazing me. Definitely hazing me. I went back to my desk, fuming, and my phone buzzed. Natalie: Hubby, stop ignoring me… I miss you. 🥺 Natalie: I won’t push for the meetup. Just talk to me? Chapter 4 To save my team from further wrath, I decided to take one for the team. Me: Fine. I’ll think about it. The moment I replied, my phone vibrated like a seizure. Natalie: YAY! You’re the best! ❤️ Natalie: Babe, tomorrow is your birthday! Even if we don’t meet, I HAVE to send you your gift. Natalie: You promised you wouldn’t say no this time! Then came a sticker of a bear aggressively kissing a rabbit. For three years, I never gave her my address. I didn’t want her spending money on me, especially since she claimed to be a broke college grad. I didn’t want our relationship to be transactional. But now? She’s a loaded CEO. My moral high ground just evaporated. Plus, if I don’t give her an address, she might fire me out of spite. I sent her the address of the Amazon Hub Locker near my apartment. No way was I giving her my actual unit number. That night, I received a same-day courier package. Inside a sleek, expensive box was a jar filled with hundreds of paper stars, a handwritten letter, and a watch box. The letter smelled like her perfume—the same scent that lingered in her office. Her handwriting was elegant but forceful. Happy Birthday, Hubby! I folded 999 stars because I want us to last forever. I opened the watch box. It was a mechanical watch. Looked fancy. Low-key. Chapter 5 We met five years ago online. She had just gone through a brutal breakup and vented on a forum. I was bored and replied. We talked for a year before making it “official.” I had rules: No video calls, no face reveals, no meetups. I wanted an emotional connection first. Three years. I texted her: Got the gift. Love it. Thanks. Her: Glad you like it! I folded every single star myself! ✨ Her: Oh! Did you find the keychain? I made it! Put it on your bag so I’m always with you! I dug through the packing peanuts and found a clay keychain. It was a little caricature of me. I clipped it to my work bag. Why not? Her: Hubby… are you still mad? Her: You haven’t called me ‘Babe’ or ‘Wifey’ in days… I cringed. Back when I thought she was a broke intern, “Wifey” was easy. Now that I know she signs million-dollar contracts, calling her “Wifey” felt… illegal. I took a deep breath, mentally separated the CEO from the girl, and typed: Baby wifey. Crisis averted. Chapter 6 The next morning, Natalie bought Starbucks for the entire building. The mood lifted instantly. Except for me. I was running on caffeine and hate, grinding out that proposal. I finished it three hours overtime and passed out the second I got home. I woke up to banging on my door. It was the building manager, surrounded by a mountain of boxes. “Sam? These are all for you. The locker was full. They’ve been arriving all night.” I looked at the labels. Same-day delivery. All from her. I opened them. 1982 Lafite Rothschild. Limited Edition Maotai. A box of ginseng worth more than my car. She was love-bombing me with high-end luxury goods because I didn’t reply to her texts for 12 hours. I checked my phone. 100+ unread messages. I quickly explained I was pulling an all-nighter because someone gave me a crazy deadline. It took an hour of texting to calm her down. She promised no more panic-buying. That evening, my supervisor dragged me to a client dinner. This project was vital for Q4, so Natalie was coming too. The client, Mr. Wang, was a notorious drinker. Old school. He didn’t sign contracts until he was wasted. He zeroed in on Natalie immediately. “Ms. Quinn! In this industry, if you don’t drink, you don’t respect me. How are we supposed to do business?” He pushed a glass of baijiu toward her. Natalie looked pale. She hesitated, reaching for the glass. I remembered her text from this morning: Cramps are killing me. Dying. 🩸 Before my brain could stop me, I stood up and snatched the glass from her hand. “She can’t drink today.”

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The school’s Golden Boy dropped a hundred-dollar bill, and I immediately stepped on it. Then, I casually sat down, pretending to tie my shoe. He noticed something was off and sat down right next to me, staring. We sat there from broad daylight until the sun went down. Neither of us folded. By the next day, the rumor mill was spinning: We were dating. Before I could even deny it, the Prom Queen and the School Bad Boy lost their minds. They cornered me separately. Chloe, the Prom Queen: “Let’s cut the crap. I like Asher. How much to make you break up with him? Is a hundred grand enough?” Jax, the Bad Boy: “What’s so good about that broke genius anyway? Date me instead. I’ll sign over my family’s beach house to you.” Chapter 1 “Wake up, Riley! Stop drooling!” I was still in my dream, locked in a battle of wills over that Benjamin, when someone shook me awake. In the dream, Asher had finally left, and I was reaching for the cash. Then—reality hit. Just my luck. I shifted positions, trying to faceplant back into the desk to resume the dream. “I’m dead tired. Didn’t sleep a wink last night. Let me nap until the teacher gets here.” A different voice cut through the fog. “You’re still sleeping? Your romance with Asher is trending on every group chat. Aren’t you afraid the principal is gonna drag you in?” I shot up like a zombie. “What?” “I’m in a romance with who?” A group of classmates had formed a circle around my desk, looking at me with hungry, gossip-filled eyes. I grabbed one girl’s arm and shook her. “Speak! What are you talking about?” She pulled her arm away, looking disgusted. “Stop acting. Just spill the tea. When did you and Asher start hooking up?” I raised three fingers. “I swear to god, I didn’t hook up with anyone.” “Then when did you start dating?” “We aren’t!” Heaven knows I’m innocent. Yesterday, I was walking into the library and saw a crisp $100 bill on the floor. My eyes lit up. My dopamine spiked. But the library entrance was crowded. I couldn’t just bend over like a goblin. So, I smoothly stepped on it, then sat down on a nearby bench to scout the perimeter. I am a genius. But just as I was mentally spending the money, this tall, gorgeous guy stopped walking. He patted his pockets, then looked at the floor. Specifically, at my sneaker. He looked at me with this complex expression. I guilty-shuffled my foot, trying to cover the bill completely. That was my mistake. He saw the twitch. Instead of calling me out, he just sat down next to me. That gorgeous guy was Asher Vance. The school heartthrob. The valedictorian. At first, nobody realized it was a siege. We just looked like two people sitting. Until we sat there for ten hours. Ten. Hours. I was starving. Is he a robot? Does he run on solar power? Chapter 2 “Bwahahaha!” “Oh my god, that is totally something you would do!” My classmates were practically on the floor laughing after I explained. “Stop laughing at me!” I whined, putting on my best puppy-dog face. One of them rolled her eyes. “Girl, stop being dramatic. So, who got the hundred bucks?” I straightened up. “I know you’re curious, but focus! Help me out here. What do I do? Asher has like, a fan club. If they think we’re dating, I’m gonna get roasted alive.” “I’m too pretty to be bullied! What if they put gum in my hair?” “Relax,” someone said. “With that mouth of yours, you could talk your way out of a murder charge. Who’d dare bully you?” True. But before I could clear my name, the hierarchy intervened. Chloe Sterling, the Queen Bee, found me first. “You’re Riley?” Her tone was icy. She’s rich, beautiful, and usually followed by a swarm of simps. She was tapping on her phone, not even looking at me. Oh god, I thought. Is she calling a hitman? I nodded, trying to look harmless. “Yeah, that’s me.” She kept scrolling. “Heard you and Asher are a thing. Let’s be real. I like Asher. Whether he likes me back is his problem, but you? You can’t date him.” “No, wait, I—” “Zip it. Did I say you could speak?” Wow. Rude. Who made you the boss of me? Just because you’re the “School Beauty” doesn’t mean you can interrupt people. Chapter 3 Before I could voice my internal protest, Chloe spoke again. “Class is starting soon. My time is money. How much to break up with him? Fifty grand?” Me: ??? “W-what? How much?” Chloe frowned, annoyed. “Is a hundred grand enough? I hate it when people haggle.” “Take the money. Break up today.” Ding. My phone buzzed. A transfer notification. One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars. My brain short-circuited. I stood there for a solid three seconds. Luckily, my survival instincts kicked in before she got mad. “So… just to clarify… if I don’t date Asher, this money is mine? No take-backs?” “Duh,” Chloe pocketed her phone. “Can you do it or not?” I nodded so hard I almost gave myself whiplash. “Yes! Absolutely! Consider it done! He is dead to me!” I was ready to offer her my kidney as a thank-you gift. “Sis, do you want anything else? I can bark? I can do a backflip? Just name it!” Chloe looked at me like I was a cockroach. “I seriously don’t know what Asher sees in you.” Sis, you are my new religion. “I promise, he will never like me. Ever.” “Hey, want me to do a TikTok dance for you? Free of charge. Just to show my appreciation.” I started doing a very awkward version of the Renegade. She cringed. “Please stop. That was painful to watch.” I stopped. “Or I can rap? I know all the words to—” “Just stop,” she covered her ears. “You’re weird.” She turned and walked away. Honestly? She’s an icon. Beautiful. Rich. Decisive. I yelled after her, “Bye bestie! Call me if you need someone to carry your books!” A random student walked by and sneered, “Simp.” I puffed out my chest. “Yeah? And? I’m simping for a millionaire. Jealous?” Chapter 4 I didn’t sleep at all that night. I just stared at my bank account app, counting the zeros. Am I rich? Is this real life? Thank you, Asher. Thank you, Benjamin Franklin. The next day. I walked into school with massive dark circles under my eyes. Before I could reach my classroom, Jax—the notorious bad boy—blocked the doorway. He pinned me against the lockers, his voice low and angry. “Riley.” I jumped out of my skin. “Jesus! You scared me! Jax, do you have a death wish?” Jax was in my homeroom—Class 8, the “hopeless case” class. Asher and Chloe were in Class 1, the honors class. Jax and I rarely spoke. I sat in the front; he slept in the back. But I’m a social butterfly, so we were cool. Usually. Jax looked serious. Hurt, even. He refused to move. “You’re dating Asher? Why?” Oh lord, not this again. Does Jax like Chloe? Is that why he’s mad? Thinking of Chloe and my new fortune, I grinned. “Because of money.” Jax: ??? “Asher? That broke genius? He has money?” “He can’t have more money than me!” Uh oh. “Well, his money isn’t really my business, but—” Jax cut me off, raising his voice. “Who says it’s not your business? If you date me, I’ll give you the villa my dad owns near the beach. Title deed and everything.” The hallway went silent. Then it exploded. “Whoa!” “Jax likes Riley?” “The Bad Boy vs. The Golden Boy! Who is Riley gonna pick?” I was stunned. Jax likes me? Since when? He stared at me, ignoring the crowd. “Riley, say something. Yes or no?” Just then, Asher came sprinting down the hall. He looked furious. He was winding up a punch, aiming right for us. Like he had a blood feud to settle. Jax reacted instantly, stepping in front of me to block the hit. “Asher! What the hell are you doing?!” Chapter 5 The punch missed us completely. Instead, it connected squarely with the jaw of a guy with glasses standing next to me. Pow. Four-Eyes stumbled back, looking dazed. “Why did you hit me?!” Asher didn’t stop. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “Who gave you the right to spread rumors? Which eye saw Riley pregnant with my baby?” “Which eye saw me forcing her to get an abortion?” “I don’t even know her! We aren’t dating! How could we have a kid?” “I’m a guy, I can take the heat, but she’s a girl! You’re ruining her reputation!” Four-Eyes stammered, “I—I saw you guys at the hospital last week!” My brain finally caught up. Asher wasn’t here to beat me up. But wait. “What?!” “I’m pregnant? An abortion?!” “Who said I was getting an abortion?!” I went feral. This rumor was lethal! What if Chloe heard this and misunderstood? My money! A classmate showed me her phone. There it was in the grade-wide group chat. Four-Eyes had posted: Riley is preggo with Asher’s kid. He forced her to terminate. That’s why they were sitting outside the library all night, fighting about it. Attached was a photo of us looking grim during the $100 standoff. It looked… surprisingly convincing. Hell no. I spent last night counting money, not managing a PR crisis! “Get him!” I screamed. Asher and I formed an immediate alliance. We both started swinging at Four-Eyes. Jax, realizing what was happening, joined in. It turned into a 3-on-1 beatdown. Okay, “beatdown” is strong. I was mostly flailing my arms. Then Chloe showed up. She heard the context from the crowd. “Gross!” she yelled. She dropped her bag and joined the fight. 4-on-1. Poor Four-Eyes didn’t stand a chance. Chapter 6 “Unbelievable!” “Absolutely unbelievable!” “The Valedictorian! The Salutatorian! Leading a gang assault?” “Are you two trying to ruin your futures?” The Class 1 homeroom teacher was slamming his hand on the desk. Asher (Rank 1) and Chloe (Rank 2) stood with their heads down. Jax and I… well, we were the “bad influences.” My homeroom teacher sighed. “Jax, you skip class every day, your grades are tanking, and now you’re fighting? And Riley… I’m disappointed. You know your situation. Do you have a death wish?” I stuffed a tissue up my nose to stop the bleeding. Jax protested. “Teacher, you’re biased! Riley skips class too, why aren’t you yelling at her?” “Shut up or I’ll call your father!” “Four-Eyes started a rumor that destroyed a girl’s reputation! He deserved it!” Jax argued. “And we barely touched him. Riley’s the one bleeding!” “That’s for the doctor to decide!” Soon, the parents arrived. Asher’s dad (looked scary), Chloe’s mom (looked elegant), Jax’s dad (looked rich), and… my grandma. Plus Four-Eyes’ parents, who were wailing. “My poor baby! Look at his face! We’re suing!” The teachers tried to mediate. “We will investigate and punish accordingly. You four, get out. Stand in the hall.” We were exiled. “Chloe… uh, Ms. Sterling, sorry for dragging you into this,” I whispered. But Chloe looked weirdly excited. “So… wait. You guys weren’t dating? You sat there for ten hours over… a hundred bucks?” Asher corrected her: “It wasn’t just a hundred bucks. It was a matter of principle.” Chloe burst out laughing. “That is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” Jax joined in. “You guys are idiots!” They were losing it. Asher and I exchanged a look of pure embarrassment. “So,” Chloe wiped a tear. “Who got the money?” Chapter 7 Asher and I looked at our shoes. It’s a tragedy, really. It wasn’t a hundred-dollar bill. It was an anti-fraud flyer folded to look like a hundred-dollar bill. And Asher hadn’t lost any money; he just thought he did. The whole thing was for nothing. “Anti-fraud flyer!” Jax howled. “I can’t breathe!” I, however, wanted to cry. The bill was fake. Which meant… I looked at Chloe. “Chloe… I need to return the money. I shouldn’t have taken it. I was going to tell you yesterday, but I’ve never seen that many zeros in my life and I panicked. I’ll transfer it back right now.” I didn’t have my phone on me (confiscated), but I was sincere. Chloe waved her hand dismissively. “Keep it.” “It’s not your fault I jumped the gun.” “I don’t do refunds. It’s embarrassing. How would I show my face in school if I took money back?” My jaw hit the floor. “It’s… a hundred thousand dollars. And you… don’t want it?” Chloe shrugged. “It’s good karma. Consider it a donation.” I tackled her in a hug. “Chloe! You are my sister! My queen! My goddess!” “If you ever need a kidney, take mine! If you need someone to hide a body, I’ll bring the shovel!” Asher looked disgusted. Chloe paused. “Actually, I do need a favor.” I snapped to attention. “Name it.” “Never mind. Tell you later.” Jax poked my arm. “Riley, if you’re this happy over a hundred grand, just date me. I’ll give you the villa for real.” “No!” I refused. The money was a transaction. The villa was a relationship. I have standards. Also, I’m rich now. I don’t need a man. Jax pouted. “Why not? Am I ugly?” I scratched my head. How do I explain that I don’t have the energy to deal with rich boy drama? “Let’s focus on not getting expelled,” Asher interrupted. Chapter 8 Four-Eyes was fine. Just bruises. Since he started the malicious rumor, and since Jax and Chloe’s parents have “forget about it” money, the settlement was quick. However, we were all supposed to split the damages. My grandma looked terrified. She stood there, trembling, her old coat worn thin. She didn’t have money for settlements. I rushed over to her. “Grandma, don’t worry. We don’t have to pay. He slandered me. The school knows we’re the victims.” Grandma looked hopeful. “Really?” “Really.” I lied. I used Chloe’s money to pay my share secretly. With the rest of the cash, I paid off all our debts. I put a chunk into a savings account for Grandma. I bought her a premium pension plan that would pay her monthly. After setting everything up, I sat on my bed, gasping for air. My nose started bleeding again. It took half a roll of toilet paper to stop it. Man, being eighteen is exhausting. I’m more fragile than a glass vase. But that night, I slept better than I had in years.

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I opened my eyes and found myself lying in a massive dirt pit. Several villagers stood above me, shovels in hand, tossing dirt onto my face. Wait. Did I just get isekai’d? And my spawn point is a shallow grave? Once my brain rebooted, I scrambled up like a zombie on caffeine. “Hold up! Put the shovels down! I’m not dead yet!” The villagers shook their heads, looking genuinely disappointed. “Are you kidding me? I dug this hole for hours. What a waste of cardio.” “Even lightning couldn’t kill her? She’s literally unkillable. Like a cockroach.” “Those poor kids, Jayden and Lily. Back to the torture chamber with that evil witch.” The town mayor, a guy with a face like a dried apple, wasn’t giving up. “Just bury her anyway. What’s the point of keeping trash around?” A girl who looked about ten years old was on her knees, slamming her forehead into the dirt. “Please don’t bury my mom! She’s the only family Jayden and I have left!” Her voice was raw from crying. Her forehead was swollen and bleeding. The villagers finally hesitated. They muttered among themselves and eventually convinced the mayor to drop it. Of course, since they wanted me six feet under five minutes ago, nobody offered a hand to help me out. I clawed my way out of the pit, ears ringing, and collapsed on the ground, gasping for air. Be careful what you wish for, they say. Back in my world, I went to a famous fertility temple to pray for a baby. On the way home? Wham. Truck-kun sent me packing. Now, I’m stuck in a web novel as the villainous stepmother. Chapter 1 Well, I got my wish. I have kids. Two of them. In the original novel, the son, Jayden, is fourteen now. Ten years later? He becomes a rebel leader who burns half the kingdom to the ground. The daughter, Lily, is ten. Ten years later? She’s the “Femme Fatale” who corrupts the court and brings the empire to its knees. Together, this brother-sister duo turns the nation of Kyria into a slaughterhouse. And the catalyst for their villain arc? Me. Or rather, this body’s original owner, the Evil Stepmom™. The original “me” was so toxic that apparently, Mother Nature decided to strike her down with actual lightning. Now, every time I moved, my body screamed in agony. Chapter 2 “Mom? Are you… okay?” Lily looked terrified, trembling like a leaf. Pale skin, big innocent eyes. She was exactly the daughter I’d always dreamed of. I fought through the pain and gently patted her head. “Lily, honey, don’t be scared. I’m okay…” She flinched instinctively, ready to be hit. When the blow didn’t come, she just stood there, stiff as a board, confused. The mayor sneered. “Next time you get beaten, don’t come crying to us, Lily. You asked for this.” “I can’t leave her,” Lily whimpered. “She’s our mom.” My heart. This kid is an angel. A boy in ragged clothes sprinted over. When he saw me alive on the ground, the panic in his eyes instantly froze into cold detachment. “They said lightning killed you.” It was Jayden. Despite the dirt and rags, he was stunning. Even better looking than the book described. A born martial artist. But his clothes were shredded. His face was bruised, and his lip was split. I reached out to check his injuries. He flinched violently and took a step back. Just like his sister. Polite words, terrified body language. Winning these kids over was going to be a marathon, not a sprint. Jayden pulled a small pouch from his pocket and held out a few silver coins. “Mom. This is what I earned today.” Before I could speak, the crowd erupted again. “Lola, you sent Jayden to the fight pits again? He’s fourteen!” “You lazy witch! Making your son fight to the death and your daughter beg on the streets while you do nothing?” “Stepmothers really don’t have hearts. Poor kids.” Chapter 3 Jayden ignored them. He grabbed Lily’s hand with one hand and mine with the other. “We’re going home.” My kid is protecting me. Deal with it. I shot the villagers a smug look. The mayor was fuming. “Jayden! That woman is going to be the death of you!” Our “home” was a shack. The yard was covered in dead leaves. Lily immediately grabbed a broom and started sweeping. Jayden headed for the kitchen. I grabbed his arm. “Your cuts are infected. We need to put Neosporin on that.” He pulled away coldly. “I won’t die.” I turned around and—blink—there was a tube of antibiotic ointment on the table. Wait. That table was empty a second ago. Could it be…? I tested it in my head. I wish I had some Ibuprofen for the pain. Blink. A bottle of Advil appeared next to the ointment. Jackpot. I have an inventory system! Anything I need from the modern world—meds, supplies—is just a thought away. I grabbed Jayden’s arm again. Harder this time. “You are getting treated. Sit.” “Ah…” He winced. I rolled up his tattered sleeve. My breath hitched. His arm was a roadmap of bruises, cuts, and old scars. “Who did this to you? Which animal?” Jayden looked me dead in the eye. “You did.” Chapter 4 That original Lola was a monster. Jayden fought in illegal underground matches to earn money, and instead of hugging him, she beat him? I’ve been a doctor for fifteen years. I’ve seen bad stuff. But this broke me. My eyes burned. My throat tightened. Jayden’s shoulder had a deep, festering wound that looked weeks old. He’s fourteen. I couldn’t stop the tears. The original Lola would guilt-trip him into fighting so she could fuel her gambling addiction. Jayden probably thought I was putting on an act. He gritted his teeth. “…I can fight one more match tonight.” “No!” I snapped. “No more fighting. Ever.” My hands shook as I applied the ointment. “From now on, I make the money. You don’t risk your life for silver coins. And if I ever ask you for gambling money again, you have permission to tie me up.” The boy’s eyes flickered with hope for a microsecond before going dull again. My heart ached. I made him swallow the ibuprofen and watched him like a hawk until he did. Chapter 5 “Mom, Jayden… dinner’s ready.” Lily had cooked. Three white steamed buns. Two bowls of watery rice porridge that looked more like dishwater. The kids stood back, waiting for me to eat first. I grabbed a bun and took a bite. Lily watched me, swallowing hard, then looked down at her water-soup. She’d probably lived on that slop for years. No wonder they were skin and bones. In this house, white buns were for the Stepmom. I broke the rules. I handed each of them a bun. “Eat.” They froze. They were terrified. They wanted a mom so badly, even a monster was better than nothing. Well, lucky for them, I wanted kids. That night, Lily whispered to me before bed. “Mom… hide the money. Thieves have been hitting the village.” She was terrified I’d lose Jayden’s blood money. We were too poor for pens, so I used a piece of charcoal to write a note. Go out the door, turn right. East side. Third house. Lots of cash there. I slapped the note on the table and went to sleep. The next morning, I woke up to find a new note on the table. Next to it were two massive silver ingots. Thanks for the tip. Standard finder’s fee: 20%. The “third house” was the mayor’s house. He tried to bury me alive; I sent a burglar his way. Karma. And this thief had professional standards. Lily squealed. “We can eat real food!” Jayden, the stoic warrior, actually cracked a small smile. “Everyone get dressed,” I announced. “Mom’s going to town to buy meat.” When I came back hauling bags of pork, Lily had already boiled water. “Mom… did you lose it all gambling again?” Her face fell when she saw me empty-handed of cash. “No more gambling. Spending money on pork belly is way more fun.”

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In my last life, I sacrificed everything to take care of my paralyzed brother. I died an old maid, never marrying. In this life, we were reborn together. The very first thing he did? He got rid of me to make room for the “destined” fake heiress. He took me, a newborn baby, and dumped me on the cold streets. “Don’t blame me for being heartless,” he whispered to my tiny face. “You’re the reason Chloe died.” 01 I was born during a torrential downpour in Seattle. Chase Sterling, the eldest son of the prestigious Sterling family, skipped school for three days to come back home. Nobody knew the truth. That straight-backed, solemn elementary schooler harbored the memories of two lifetimes. He had just been reborn, carrying a belly full of regret from his previous life. He didn’t even glance at me, his biological sister. Instead, he bribed a nurse to swap the babies, ensuring the girl who was mistakenly taken in our past life was now legitimately presented to our parents. He carried me out of the hospital. Stuffed me into a flimsy cardboard box. And took a bus all the way to the outskirts of the city. Meanwhile, the baby crying louder than me in the nursery—the one now draped in the Sterling family name—would grow up to be the apple of everyone’s eye: Chloe Sterling. Chase’s biggest regret from his past life was wasting decades missing out on the girl who became a brilliant flight surgeon. Me? I was the biological sister who wasn’t brought home until I was eighteen. I spent my life unmarried, teaching myself rehabilitation medicine just for him. I dragged him out of his wheelchair and gave him a life. But all he cared about was the fake sister I had displaced. The Sterlings were a military legacy family. In his last life, they were heroes. In this life, Chase was determined to rewrite the script. At any cost. I lay in the swaddle, quietly opening my eyes. Surprise, brother. I was reborn too. 02 In our past life, Chloe and I were switched at birth. She became the Sterling princess. I was sent to a blue-collar family. When I was three, a car crash left me an orphan. I was tossed into the foster care system. I spent over a decade living in fear. Chloe, however, was pampered. She was the jewel of the Sterling family, the only sister in Chase’s eyes. She learned piano, ballet, and studied abroad. She had everyone’s love. I was finally brought back to the Sterling estate at eighteen. I remember walking through those iron gates wearing cheap canvas shoes and a thrift-store dress, dragging a broken suitcase. I saw Chase standing in the yard. Tall, dressed in his uniform, backlit by the sun. He frowned at me. “You’re Penny? You look so… low class.” Chase became a top-tier Air Force pilot. Chloe became an elite flight surgeon. In photos, they stood shoulder to shoulder, smiling brilliantly. Until that year I went to visit the base. A training accident. The plane went down. Chase and Chloe were pinned under the wing, waiting for rescue. The medic looked at me frantically. “I’m sorry, we only have the resources to extract one right now.” I hesitated for one second. “Save my brother.” Everyone blamed me for Chloe’s death. But I didn’t regret it. I spent ten years nursing him. I gave up my youth to be his caretaker. When Chase was on his deathbed, his pale hand covered mine. His voice was weak, but the words were like daggers. “Penny… I wish you had saved Chloe.” I froze. It felt like a sledgehammer to the chest. Even at the very end. He never had a single word of gratitude for me. 03 He carried the box a long way. From the hospital, through the old town, to the sketchy East End. Finally, he crouched down at the mouth of an alley overgrown with weeds. He looked at me in the box, his face pale, lips tight. “Penny,” he whispered, his hands trembling. “Don’t blame your big brother.” “Chloe died so tragically. In the last life, she died because of you… I don’t hate you, but she… she deserves to live without a care in the world.” He pushed me into the shadows of the alley. With his small hand, he tucked the blanket around me. “Someone will find you here. Just live a normal life this time.” He stood up, eyes red, but stubbornly turned his head away. “Penny, I’m begging you. Don’t show up in our lives again.” He walked away. He never looked back. My mind was clear, fully awake in this infant body. But I couldn’t speak. I lay in the shadows. Watching his back disappear, I felt nothing but ice in my veins. 04 The rain started pouring. I opened my eyes again. The sky was the color of a dirty rag. The wind whipped the leaves around the alley entrance. He was long gone. I was a newborn. My body was weak. I couldn’t even cry. My throat only produced a weak, muffled whimper. The rain soaked through the cardboard. I started to burn up with fever. My vision went white. In the distance, I heard the snarls of stray dogs. It sounded like death approaching. I couldn’t move. I could only look up at this strange, dark sky. I thought about my past life. I spent a lifetime learning medicine. Rehab. Forty years of caretaking. All for one sentence: “I wish you saved her.” In this life. His first act upon rebirth was to throw me out like garbage. I closed my eyes. The smell of mud and rain filled my nose. My consciousness started to fade. Until a gentle female voice cut through the noise: “Did you hear that? Is that a kitten?” A deep male voice followed. Teasing, warm. “Let’s take it home then. You love cats.” 05 In the darkness, a light appeared. It was the glow of streetlamps through the rain, the headlights of a car. It was the first thread of hope I could grasp. I saw an umbrella open. Under it was a beautiful, elegant face. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks by the rain. When she saw me, her eyes went wide with panic. “Arthur! Start the car! It’s a baby!” Her voice trembled. She was terrified. The next second, she lifted me gently from the soggy box. She stripped off her coat and wrapped me in it. She pulled me tight into her embrace. She smelled amazing. Like magnolias and clean laundry. It made me want to cry. I leaned into her warmth. Babbling weakly, panting with fever. My mind drifted. She held me tighter, cursing softly. “Who does this? What kind of monster leaves a baby in a storm?” “She’s burning up. Her lips are blue.” The man’s voice came from beside her, rough with worry. “I’m bringing the car around. We need to move.” She cooed at me. “Don’t be scared, baby. Auntie is taking you to the doctor.”

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My mother traded her life for my golden ticket into high society. Before she took her last breath, she forced my biological father—a man worth billions—to acknowledge my existence. The second I stepped into the Sterling estate, my half-sister swirled her red wine, her gaze grazing over me like I was a speck of dust. “I don’t care where you came from. Just keep your head down.” My half-brother crushed his cigar into an ashtray, his voice low and dangerous. “Once you walk through that door, you play by the Sterling rules. Watch yourself.” I understood. They hated me. So, I tried my best to be invisible. Until the day the school’s queen bee poured a bottle of ink into my water bottle and tried to force it down my throat. My sister stepped in and slapped her across the face. My brother cornered the bully and ordered her to drink every drop of that ink. That’s when I learned the truth. The Sterling rule isn’t about silence. It’s about protecting your own. Chapter 1 The day after my mom jumped from our apartment building, a middle-aged man in a luxury sedan found me. He said I was a daughter of the Sterling family, and he was there to take me “home.” I studied his face, looking for any resemblance. “Are you my father?” The man let out a scoff. It was faint, barely audible, but I caught it. “No, Miss Riley. My name is Davis. You can call me Driver Davis.” “I’m just Mr. Sterling’s driver and assistant. If you need the boss, I can pass a message.” He sounded respectful, but his eyes told a different story. He looked at me like I was roadkill he had to scrape off his bumper. I didn’t care. I was just sad I never got to see the man my mother loved enough to die for. The night before she jumped, she held me and cried for hours. She swore she wasn’t a mistress. She was his first love. We were the ones who got left behind. He chose his empire over us, marrying a woman from a powerful dynasty instead. “Riley,” she had asked me, “She’s been dead for three years. Why won’t he marry me now?” I didn’t have an answer. She touched my face, looking through me at someone else. “Be good, Riley. Be obedient. Work hard. Make him proud. Make him see you.” Those were her last words to me. Did she love me? Maybe. Maybe not enough. Doesn’t matter now. From here on out, I have to figure out how to be happy on my own. “I’m fine,” I told Davis. “Let’s go.” I took one last look at the run-down shack I’d lived in for sixteen years, then climbed into the Maybach without turning back. We lived in the middle of nowhere. Davis spent the drive muttering to himself, complaining about the distance, basically calling me a burden. “Don’t know what the Boss is thinking… could’ve just paid her off… why bring her home?” I ignored him. I glued my face to the window, watching the desolate countryside morph into the glittering skyline of the city. It was beautiful. The car pulled up to a massive estate. Davis dumped my luggage on the driveway. “Alright, you’re on your own from here. I’ve got places to be.” He sped off before I could blink. I dragged my suitcase toward the open front doors. Someone was waiting. Chapter 2 The moment I stepped onto the marble floor, I saw them. A young man and woman descending the spiral staircase like royalty. They were perfect. Works of art. I recognized them from the tabloids. Aria Sterling, the art prodigy whose paintings hung in Parisian galleries at age eleven. Asher Sterling, the genius who spoke seven languages and collected academic trophies like Pokémon cards. Compared to them, I was a dirt-poor country bumpkin. “Hi, Sister. Hi, Brother. I’m Riley Stone.” I greeted them, trying to be polite. They paused, scanning me from head to toe. Aria swirled her wine glass. “I don’t care where you came from. Just keep your head down.” Asher put out his cigar. “Once you walk through that door, you play by our rules. Watch yourself.” I lowered my head, acting submissive. “Okay. I understand.” I knew they wouldn’t like me. So, I spent a week learning their schedules to avoid them. Aria drank wine every night and hated mornings. Asher had to bang on her door five times just to get her up for school. The maids couldn’t do it. Even our father couldn’t—she hung up on him when he tried to set her up on dates. I was terrified of annoying her. Especially after yesterday. Davis gave me a dress identical to one Aria had. I didn’t know. When she saw me, she frowned, went back to her room, changed, and then threw the dress in Davis’s face. “Make me see that rag again, I dare you.” Asher was slightly more stable. Slightly. Today, Davis said he couldn’t drive me to school because he had to pick up Dad from the airport. He asked Asher to drop me off. Asher slammed his fork down at breakfast and stormed out. I froze, a noodle halfway to my mouth in the kitchen. Silence. Then, Aria’s voice floated down the hall. “You have three minutes to get in the car. Or he leaves you.” I wasn’t full, but I couldn’t be late on my first day. I ran out, wiping my mouth. But when I got to the sleek sports car, I panicked. If I opened the back door, Aria would have to scoot over. If I sat shotgun, Asher would probably eject me. I thought about it logically. “Brother,” I said seriously. “Can you pop the trunk? I’ll sit in there.” Chapter 3 “Pfft.” Aria laughed. It was a clean, melodic sound. My heart skipped a beat. I peeked at her, but she was already looking at her phone, face blank. I scratched my head. “So… where should I sit?” Asher smashed the car horn. “Just get in the damn car! Sit wherever!” “Oh…” Suddenly, the back door opened. Aria scooted over. I took the hint and scrambled in. “Thanks, Sister.” She ignored me. I started fighting with the seatbelt. First time in a car this fancy. How does this buckle work? Before I could figure it out, Asher floored it. The G-force slammed my head against the seat. Thud. Aria sighed. She reached over, grabbed the buckle, and clicked it into place for me. “You are so high maintenance.” “Sorry,” I whispered. Asher looked in the rearview mirror. “Is she strapped in? Don’t let her dent my leather.” “Yeah,” Aria said, putting her headphones back on. I barely breathed the whole ride. When we got near the school—St. Jude’s Prep—I asked Asher to drop me off a block away. I didn’t want to ruin their reputation. They didn’t argue. Asher dropped me off and sped away like he was escaping a crime scene. Finally. I could breathe. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the boiled egg I swiped from the kitchen. Peeled it. Chomp. Runny yolk. Delicious. Chapter 4 The floor of this school was literally made of imported Italian marble. I spun around like a tourist, taking it all in. When I got to class, the teacher asked for an intro. “My name is Riley Stone.” “Stone? Are you related to Aria and Asher Sterling?” a kid asked. I looked at them. Aria was checking her makeup in a compact. Asher was staring out the window. Neither acknowledged me. “No,” I said. “Just a coincidence.” The teacher pointed to a desk. Right next to Asher. Great. I walked over, bracing for him to explode. I sat down and pulled out my books. Then, disaster struck. This wasn’t just a rich kid school; it was a genius rich kid school. The teacher started lecturing in French. Back in my village, I was the English champ. Here? I was illiterate. The whole class spoke fluent French. I was lost. I realized then that without the Sterling name, I wouldn’t even be fit to sweep the floors here. Suddenly, something landed on my desk. A pair of high-tech glasses. “Spare trash. You can have it,” Asher muttered without looking at me. I put them on. Subtitles. Real-time translation appeared on the lenses. I scribbled a note: Thanks, Brother. I slid it to him. Asher glanced at it, then nudged it back with his elbow like it was contaminated. Chapter 5 Recess. Everyone left. I stayed behind to study French on my phone. A girl walked up and tapped my desk. “Hi, I’m Jessica Vance. Let’s be friends.” She was the “Campus Queen.” Personally, I thought Aria was prettier. From that day on, Jessica tried to hang out with me. But I suspect Asher didn’t want me making friends. Every time Jessica came over, Asher would slam a French textbook in front of me. “Finish these two pages. Then you can leave.” I couldn’t say no. He had agreed to tutor me. Actually, I had asked Aria for a tutor. She had just yelled, “Asher! Get in here!” Asher appeared. “What?” “Teach her French.” I hugged Aria’s arm. “Sister, you’re the best! A sister is a treasure!” Aria’s ears turned pink. She pushed me away. “Hurry up! Teach her!” Asher looked like he wanted to die. “Brother,” I pleaded. “Do your daily good deed? Please?” He gritted his teeth and agreed. I wasn’t a natural. I frustrated him daily. He’d roll the book into a tube, ready to smack me, then sigh and correct my pronunciation word by word. “Brother, you’re the best teacher ever!” I beamed. Asher kept his poker face. “I’ve never begged for anything in my life. The only thing I beg of you is this: Don’t tell anyone I taught you this terrible French. It’s embarrassing.”

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