During a reality show, I was asked why I broke up with my first love. The A-list actor next to me, Liam Ford, scoffed coldly. “She said her husband didn’t approve, so she couldn’t take me as her fifth lover.” Me: “…” Did I really say something that ridiculous back then?! 1 During a break from filming, my manager shoved me into a slow-living reality show. Coincidentally, my ex-boyfriend, whom I dated secretly and broke up with three years ago, was also there. During the icebreaker segment, the juicy question came up: “Why did you break up with your first love?” I kept a straight face. “It was so long ago, I can’t remember.” Beside me, Liam Ford, the movie star, glanced at me expressionlessly and let out a cold laugh. “I remember it quite clearly.” “She told me she was a ‘System User’ who had targeted the wrong capture target, and if she kept dating me, the System would punish her.” The host: “?!” The other guests: “??!!” Me: “…” The room went dead silent. The host’s eyes widened, bold enough to ask, “And then?” Liam spoke slowly, deliberately. “And then…” I shivered, feeling a chill down my spine. He smirked lazily. “And then, I roleplayed eighteen different personas to date her online, and got dumped every single time.” “The reasons included, but were not limited to:” “Allergic to my body hair.” “She’s a Monkey, I’m a Dragon, so being together would give her a sore throat.” “Complained that I was over 25 and ‘expired before opening.’” “Suddenly realized she liked girls.” “And that her husband at home didn’t approve, so she couldn’t take me as her fifth lover…” ???!!! So that’s why I had all those thirst traps sliding into my DMs every day! The clingy puppy dog calling me “Noona,” the pale jock flashing his abs, the sugar daddy throwing cash, the gloomy emo boy dancing in sheer shirts! They had me blushing every day. Turns out it was all YOU?!!! 2 The other guests were trying not to laugh, their faces turning red. I coughed guiltily. “Is it really that exaggerated? No way…” Instantly, the chill on my back intensified. I shut up. The air was dead silent, except for the scrolling comments on the live stream. [Chloe is such a clout chaser because she’s not famous.] [Right? Why is she chiming in with that exaggerated, fake expression? She’s just trying to imply she has a connection with Liam Ford.] [She should look in the mirror. Does the movie star even know her?] [No wonder her only famous roles are villains. She’s just playing herself~] [Just trying to get attention, clown behavior.] [Hahaha, Liam was probably just making stuff up, and only Chloe took it seriously.] I looked everywhere but at him, trying to act like it had nothing to do with me. In reality, I was grinding my teeth. Damn you, Liam Ford! Did you leave the house with your head up your ass today?! Amidst the chaos, the popular starlet Sarah chimed in. She pursed her lips, looking shy. “As for me, things were going well with my first love.” “I was just young and immature. We had a small fight, and I made up an excuse to break up. I hope he can forgive me.” She lowered her head bashfully after speaking. Avoiding Liam’s gaze, her cheeks flushed pink. My eyes darted between them in horror. Are you two a thing now too?! 3 Sarah and Liam had just finished filming a tragic romance drama together. Right now, the big screen was completely taken over by their CP (couple) fans. [Ahhhh! Something’s going on between them!] [Get used to it, just a little couple secretly sprinkling sugar~] [I remember Liam was the last guest announced for this show? Damn, he must have heard his wife was here and came running.] [Definitely. That Chloe girl has no tact.] [Stupid and eager, trying to butt in and ruining our shipping moment!] Me: “…” Bullying me because I can’t afford bots, huh? Besides, who wants to be associated with them?! The host smiled and asked about the current status of our first loves. I steeled myself and blurted out. “Sadly, he… died.” “Yeah, cancer.” Liam looked over in disbelief. His jawline tightened. Tsk, I said you’re dead, so stay dead. Don’t talk! I ignored his dark gaze. Amidst everyone’s sympathetic looks, I added fuel to the fire. “I went to see him before he passed. He was skin and bones. Truly died too young…” I feigned grief, wiping away non-existent tears. Actually, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Now no one can accuse me of clout chasing or claiming to be Liam’s first love, right?! Using my ex-boyfriend’s death to clear my name. Worth it!!! 4 The guests stayed overnight at the villa prepared by the production team. I was assigned a double room. With Sarah. At midnight, she was tossing and turning in bed with a full face of makeup. “Chloe unnie, what should I do?” “Do you think that person will forgive me?” “Should I buy an apology gift~” “I really didn’t mean to hurt him.” “I didn’t expect him to love me so much, to go to such lengths for me…” I responded half-heartedly. My eyes were barely staying open. My head was pounding from the noise. Seeing my voice trailing off, she flashed her phone screen in my eyes. “Chloe unnie, are you asleep?” “Chloe unnie~” AHHHH! I rubbed my hair in frustration. Girl, it’s just the two of us now, you don’t need to act!!! [Sarah is about to cry, and Chloe has zero reaction. So cold.] [Lol, people who can’t empathize with others shouldn’t be actors.] [To the people above, I hope you meet a roommate who won’t sleep at midnight and insists on talking about her ex.] [Isn’t late-night chatting normal?] [Plus, Sarah really has a problem to solve. Who is Chloe showing that face to?] [People like her deserve their first love dying. She’s bad luck.] Oh, I forgot. To attract traffic, the show livestreams for 24 hours as a pilot before the main episodes. My haters are working hard, still at it at this hour! If only I could actually hex Liam to death! Save me from this torture!!! While Sarah went to the bathroom to touch up her makeup. I made a break for it. The living room was dim, only the small light in the hallway was on. Just as I was about to grab a bottle of cold water, a voice suddenly appeared right next to me. Exploding in the darkness. “Not sleeping?” “Thinking about where to bury your first love?” I whipped around. Liam was standing behind me like a ghost. He was wearing black pajamas, collar wide open regardless of the cameras, looking lazy. Must have just showered, smelling of warm woody fragrance. Wolves in front, tigers behind! No peace anywhere!!! I snapped. “Can’t I just have insomnia?” He nodded seriously. Leaned in close, his voice bewitching. “I turned off the camera in my room.” “If you can’t sleep, you can come find me.” “You’ll fall asleep when you’re tired…” ???!!! Microphone! The live microphone isn’t off!!!! 5 Heart skipped a beat, breath hitched. Blood rushed to my head, scrambling my senses. I frantically covered his mouth. Reached for the mic at my waist. The next second, my palm felt hot. Me: ???!!! Liam Ford, you pervert! Licking me at a time like this?!!! Ewwwwww! I wanted to cry but had no tears. I silently wiped my hand on his clothes… He was suddenly in a good mood. Retracting the arm hovering near my waist, he smirked. “Don’t worry, I already turned off your mic.” Damn, playing with me? Just because I dumped you 18 times, is this necessary?! “Psycho!!!” I swore and ran. Only to be hooked by the collar and spun around. “What do you want?!” “Weren’t you kept awake by the noise?” “I have a single room. Sleep in mine.” Huh? So kind? I looked him up and down suspiciously, “Then where do you sleep?” Liam’s grin widened. “Why, feeling sorry for me? Want to invite me to your bed?” Wow, who cares about you! Go sleep on the street!!! I angrily broke free. Marched upstairs unapologetically. Slammed his door, climbed into his bed, pulled his duvet over my head. Squatter’s rights. Silence at last. The hotel bedding carried a hint of Liam’s cologne, like his unique pheromones. Occasionally overpowering the ambient smell, rushing into my nose with every breath… … Slept deeply. The duvet was yanked off, cold air rushing in. For a moment, I thought I was back in my room. Sarah’s chirping voice hovered near my head. “Brother Liam, morning! Time to wake up for missions!!!” Consciousness lagging. I groggily opened my eyes and locked gazes with Sarah, who was holding a handheld camera… ???!!!

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On my first day of school, I accidentally crossed the Queen Bee of the sophomore class. She threatened to sick her “bad boy” boyfriend on me. Sure enough, the school’s notorious delinquent strutted over with a walk that screamed “I own this place.” But when he saw me, he froze and shouted in disbelief: “Sis?” I smirked coldly and proceeded to give him a lesson filled with “love and care.” The Queen Bee watched, trembling, and stuttered: “Sis, since you hit him, you can’t hit me too, right?” 1 “Which class are you in?” The girl blocking my path wasn’t wearing her uniform properly. She had streaks of red dyed into her hair and radiated “Queen Bee” energy. Her tone was arrogant. “Do you know who I am?” I shook my head honestly. “You don’t know who I am, and you dare block me? Haven’t you heard of Bella from the high school division?” I shook my head again. “I’m new.” “Oh, a transfer student,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Then my skipping class is none of your business. Get lost, or I’ll make you regret it!” Five minutes ago, I was walking by the school fence when I saw a student trying to climb over. I called her down. “According to school rules, truancy is prohibited,” I said calmly. “I suggest you go back to your classroom.” Bella, as she called herself, sneered at me. “Fine, want to play hero? You might not know me, but you’ve heard of my boyfriend, right? Carter. He’s famous even outside of school. Want me to call him over to deal with you?” Boyfriend. Puppy love? I crossed my arms. “Go ahead. Call him.” Provoked by the challenge in my eyes, she pulled out her phone and dialed. “Babe…” I didn’t hear what was said on the other end, but she hung up quickly, looking even more smug. “You just wait!” I checked the time. I could wait. A few minutes later, a group of boys marched aggressively toward us. I squinted. The leader wasn’t wearing a uniform, and his build looked familiar. Bella sneered. “It’s not too late to apologize. My boyfriend isn’t as nice as I am.” “Really?” I replied coolly. “I’d love to see how ‘not nice’ he is.” As the group got closer, I finally saw the leader’s face clearly. The corner of my mouth twitched uncontrollably. The leader, oozing “Big Brother” energy, strutted toward his girlfriend without glancing at anyone else. He barked dominantly, “You okay? Who’s the blind idiot messing with my girl at North High…” He looked up at the “blind idiot”—me. His voice cracked mid-sentence. “Sis?” That single syllable stunned his entire entourage. I smiled—a smile that promised pain. “Carter, you’ve really made something of yourself. Boss of the school now, huh?” The school bully took a sharp step back. Too late. I threw the uniform jacket I’d brought for him right into his face. In two steps, I grabbed his ear and slapped his forehead. Not hard enough to cause brain damage, but enough to rattle his brain cells. “Who taught you to act like a king at school?” “Carter? Bullying classmates now, are we?” “And ‘your girl’? Not even eighteen and playing house? I ought to beat you…” “…” I gave Carter a thorough education filled with “love and care.” He scurried around like a rat, covering his head. “Sis! Sis! It’s school! Give me some face!” 2 As the eldest child, I have a natural bloodline suppression over Carter. When he was a toddler causing trouble, my parents were too soft to discipline him. I wasn’t. Won’t eat dinner? Smack. Disrespecting Mom and Dad? Smack. Stealing my stuff? Smack. Causing trouble outside? Smack. Addicted to video games? Smack. My parents realized my “gentle taps” were effective and let me handle it. I molded him into a good kid. Carter has always been simple-minded and not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. A beating followed by a piece of candy usually set him straight. He holds no grudges as long as he gets fed. Such a good kid. How did he turn into this? Carter couldn’t escape. Since I realized my little brother would eventually outgrow me, I started taking martial arts classes. Cornered, he looked to his minions and girlfriend for help. However, the girl who was just playing the tough Queen Bee now had eyes clear of any rebellion. I looked at Carter’s little girlfriend. She shuddered visibly. “Sis,” she stammered, “since you hit him, you can’t hit me too, right?” “…” The warning bell rang, saving Carter’s life. He screamed, “Sis! Class is starting! I need to go to class!” The desperation in his voice suggested a newfound, intense passion for education. I smiled gently. “Didn’t you want to skip class just now?” From Bella’s phone call, I knew they were planning to skip together. “No, no! Sis, I’m going back to class!” I let him go and nodded. “Fine. Go back to class, all of you.” Carter and the others looked like they’d been granted amnesty and sprinted toward the academic building. However, after a few steps, they realized I was following them. “Sis, why are you following us?” Carter whispered. “I promise I’m going back to class.” I smiled. “It’s fine. It’s on my way. I’ll walk you to your classroom.” Carter didn’t think too deeply about my words. He just muttered for me to go home. I hadn’t been home in a while, so Carter clearly didn’t care enough about his sister’s life updates. He probably thought Mom sent me just to deliver his jacket. The group of students, who looked like a teacher’s nightmare, walked ahead like obedient little ducklings. Finally, under my gaze, they walked into the classroom marked Sophomore Class 9. The bell had rung, but the room was chaotic because the teacher hadn’t arrived yet. I raised an eyebrow at the sign on the doorframe. “Sis, I’m here. You can go back now,” my dear brother whispered, eager to escape my clutches. I tilted my chin. “You go in first.” Carter went in. I waited outside for another ten seconds, then, under the gaze of everyone, walked into the noisy classroom. And stepped onto the podium. The class went quiet for a second. The students who had just seen me outside stared with wide eyes. “Hello everyone, let me introduce myself,” I said, my voice steady and projecting without a microphone. “I am your homeroom teacher for this year, Ms. Shen. I’ll also be teaching you Physics. Nice to meet you all.” As my words fell, I met the despairing eyes of my brother and his little girlfriend. 3 I am nine years older than Carter. Because of the bloodline suppression, when I went to college, my third-grade brother was still a well-behaved baby in my eyes. After I graduated and went to grad school, I visited home less. Carter finished elementary school and started middle school. I heard my parents complain about his rebellious phase over the phone. I thought it was just normal teenage angst. Who knew I’d come back to find a full-blown delinquent? Where did my sweet, soft cupcake of a brother go? The first period was basically homeroom. I got to know everyone’s names. To them, I was just reading a list. When the bell rang, I walked slowly to Carter and Bella’s desks. Bella, the girl I stopped from climbing the wall, and my brother’s puppy love interest. They sat across the aisle from each other. I tapped their desks. “Phones. Out.” North High rules: No electronics on campus without special permission. They both looked devastated as they pulled their phones from their desks. “Come to my office during the long break.” The next period was also mine. Physics. It had been a while since I taught basic physics. Class 9 wasn’t the top tier, nor the bottom. Just average. The first lesson was foundational and simple. Most of them listened, especially my brother, who was terrified I’d catch him spacing out. After class, I went straight to the office with the confiscated phones. When the long break finally arrived, Carter and Bella appeared at the office door, dragging their feet. “Sis, why are you teaching at our school? Why didn’t I know?” Carter finally burst out. Of course he didn’t know. I only told our parents I was moving back to town. Last night when I visited, I mentioned getting a job at my alma mater, but Carter was gaming with headphones on. This morning, Mom noticed he left without his jacket and asked me to bring it. She didn’t mention his class, just told me to text him. I kept my face neutral. “Call me Ms. Shen at school.” “Oh. Ms. Shen.” Carter hung his head obediently. “Truancy, dating, phones, forming cliques…” I listed their crimes, then looked at my brother. “Carter, what else don’t I know?” “And you, Bella. You two are a pair. You think Carter is reliable? At your age, you should be focused on grades and dreams, not romance and gang loyalty.” My brother: “…” “Sis… Teacher, I was wrong. Please let us off this once. I promise it won’t happen again.” Carter tugged at my sleeve, begging quietly. I’ve only been working for two years and haven’t dealt with students like this much, but I know a student’s promise is worth less than sand in the wind. “I’m calling your parents tonight.” Both of their faces changed. “Teacher, aren’t you… my parent?” 4 I didn’t look up. “Call your Mom and Dad.” “Bella, is the contact in your file your father or mother?” I asked the silent girl. She didn’t look as arrogant as this morning, but there was still a stubborn set to her jaw. “It’s my dad’s secretary.” I didn’t overthink it. “Give me your father or mother’s direct number. I’ll talk to them.” She went silent. Cosplaying a mute. “…” I rubbed my temples. I knew I wasn’t cut out to be a homeroom teacher. Carter whispered helpfully, “Teacher, Bella’s mom died two years ago. Her dad remarried and ignores her now.” I paused. Family issues weren’t something a teacher could solve easily. “Bella, give me your father’s number first.” As a homeroom teacher, I had to try communicating. She finally spoke. “I don’t have it. We fought, I blocked him, didn’t memorize it.” “…” Compared to my brother, the prick, this girl had way more issues to unpack. A twenty-minute break wasn’t enough to solve this. I sent them back to class. I tried contacting the secretary Bella mentioned. The secretary politely informed me that Mr. Cheng was in a meeting and would get back to me. I waited two hours. The secretary called back, saying Mr. Cheng didn’t have time to come to the school, but provided his direct line. I called. A middle-aged man answered, sounding annoyed. “What trouble did that ungrateful girl cause now?” “Not trouble exactly. If you’re free, could you come to the school? I’d like to discuss Bella’s situation.” Before I finished, a baby started crying in the background. A woman’s voice cooed, “Honey, the baby is crying again, is he sick…” Chaos ensued on the other end. Then the man said, “If she caused trouble, punish her according to school rules. I don’t have time for her.” Click. He hung up. “…” I regretted taking this job. I grabbed my textbook and headed to another building. There were only about twenty students in the room. I stood at the podium. “Welcome, freshmen, to the Physics Olympiad Class.” Physics Olympiad Coach. That was my real job. A few days before school started, the original homeroom teacher for Class 9 (who also taught physics) had a medical emergency regarding her pregnancy. She took a long leave. The school scrambled to find a replacement. Her other class was covered by a senior teacher, but Class 9 was left hanging. The administration asked if I could cover it. Since the freshmen Olympiad team wasn’t competing this year, I had the time, so I took it. I didn’t know Carter was in that class. Looking at the fresh faces in the Olympiad class, I felt nostalgic. Ten years ago, I was sitting there, listening to my coach ramble. Throughout the year, some would drop out, some would join. The road to the Olympiad is long and hard.

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My childhood best friend, Luke, got caught sneaking around with the school’s prom queen, Tiffany. To protect Tiffany’s reputation, he lied and said I was his girlfriend. I got suspended for it. Tiffany looked at me with mock sympathy, her eyes red. “Are you happy now?” “It’s just a few days of suspension,” she said. “Now the whole school thinks you two are together, so what am I?” Luke, trying to comfort her, forbade me from returning to school. “Be good,” he told me. “It’s exam season, she’ll get upset if she sees you.” “You’re smart anyway. You can study from home.” I didn’t listen. I went back to school. Luke scoffed when he saw me. “Miss me that much?” He didn’t know I was there to pick up my transfer papers. A month later, Luke called, demanding to know why I transferred. What he heard instead was a lazy, affectionate boy’s voice on the other end: “Babe, how can you be distracted right now? Answering other people’s calls?” “I’m enough for you. Be good, hang up the phone.” 1 Holding the thin transfer application form, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. The principal looked reluctant, still trying to keep me. “Miss Wen, the school apologizes for misunderstanding you. Suspending you without investigation was wrong. Please reconsider transferring…” I shook my head gently, but my resolve was firm. Saying goodbye to my favorite teachers, I couldn’t help but tear up. My favorite teacher wiped away my tears. “I hate to see you go, but your potential is wasted here.” Just as I reached the classroom door, I heard Luke’s lazy laughter. “I waited in line for four hours for this. Will the princess honor me with a bite?” Luke was leaning intimately against Tiffany’s desk. He held a spoon of tiramisu, coaxing it toward her lips. It was hard to imagine someone like Luke having the patience to wait in line for anything. Tiffany still looked a bit grumpy, but the corners of her mouth were already turning up. “Tsk, finally smiling for me?” Tiffany huffed. “Who told you to call someone else your girlfriend? I just wanted to teach you a lesson!” Luke smiled, pleading for mercy. “I did it for you! Wen is top of the class, she just gets a suspension. You’re… average. You would have been expelled.” Tiffany looked at me standing at the door with a triumphant smirk. “Aren’t you worried Wen will get expelled?” Luke pressed a finger to her lips, his eyes playful. “Wouldn’t that be better? Save you the trouble of seeing her.” “As long as you’re mad, I won’t let her come back to school. Forgive me now?” Tiffany slapped his hand away and lifted her chin. “Then who’s that standing at the door? Are you blind?” Luke froze. He turned to me, his smile vanishing instantly. He strode over, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the classroom, frowning. “Why are you here?” “Didn’t I tell you to study at home? It’s crunch time for exams, what if you distract her?” “I just got her to calm down, you ruined it!” Maybe because my heart had finally died, I didn’t cry like before. I shook off his hand and moved to pack my things. Luke saw my red eyes and paused. “Miss me that much?” He sighed, helpless. “Fine. Go home now, I’ll come back early to keep you company tonight, okay?” He hooked his pinky around mine and shook it. For a second, I was dazed. 2 Luke and I were inseparable since birth. Our parents were classmates, then neighbors. We were even born on the same day. Luke was older by a few minutes, so he was told to protect his “little sister.” In kindergarten, the first word he learned to write was my name. I had a stutter growing up. Luke fought anyone who laughed at me. When I was ten, my mom died. I locked myself in my room, refusing to eat. Luke climbed through the third-story window when I wouldn’t open the door. He held my pinky and comforted me all night. I cried until I broke, asking, “Will you leave me?” He hugged me tight. “Never.” When Luke bombed his high school entrance exams, I gave up my spot at the elite magnet school to stay with him at the local public school. I believed we would be together forever. But in high school, Luke changed. He started finding me clingy and annoying. He distanced himself at school. His attention shifted to Tiffany, the school beauty. He chased her loudly and proudly. Two weeks ago, someone snapped a photo of them kissing in the woods and posted it on the school forum. Luke’s tall frame hid the girl, showing only messy hair and a pale neck. The Dean was furious. He demanded to know who the girl was. Luke put his arm around me, kissed my forehead in front of everyone, and smirked. “Do you even have to ask? It’s obviously my childhood sweetheart!” I had imagined Luke confessing to me many times. I never imagined he would use me as a human shield for another girl. “I won’t leave you.” That promise still echoed in my ears. But Luke was no longer the boy from my memories. 3 I snapped out of the memory and pulled away from Luke again. Seeing me packing, Luke’s frown relaxed. “Just tell me what books you need, I would have brought them. Why come all this way?” “Do you know what day it is…” He stopped himself. “Whatever, now Tiffany’s upset again. I have to go fix this.” I’ve never been much of a talker. And I didn’t tell him I was transferring. Packing was quick. Senior year textbooks were heavy. My arms were getting sore. Luke naturally reached out and took the bag, walking out. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” He carried the heavy bag effortlessly with one hand. With the other, he tossed me a bag of pastries. “Bought your favorite chestnut cakes. Eat them later.” I trotted to keep up, reaching for my bag. Luke switched hands, using his free hand to pinch the back of my neck, laughing. “Stop it. With your tiny arms, you’ll break something carrying this.” Suddenly, Tiffany spoke up. “Luke…” She bit her lip, looking pitiful. “My stomach hurts…” Luke spun around. The next second, the heavy bag was shoved into my arms. I stumbled back, hip slamming into a desk corner. “Take a taxi home.” Luke didn’t even look at me as he ran to Tiffany. Pain radiated from my hip. I picked up the bag and limped out. Behind me, Tiffany’s voice floated over: “Your little friend looks hurt. Poor thing.” “Is it cramps? Your period?” “But she really got hit hard.” “Stay there,” Luke said, impatient but not at her. “I’ll get heat packs and brown sugar water.” The hallway was noisy. Their voices faded. The last thing I heard was Tiffany’s sweet voice: “You’re so good to me.” I threw the chestnut cakes in the trash and walked away. 4 Back home, I got a call from Magnet High. “Miss Wen, your dorm and supplies are ready. Just come whenever.” The admissions officer sounded cheerful. “When will you be joining us? Your new classmates can’t wait to meet you.” I thought for a moment. “Tomorrow.” After hanging up, my dad knocked and entered with a plate of fruit. When I suddenly asked to transfer, I thought he’d ask why. But he just nodded. “Where do you want to go? I’ll handle the paperwork.” I wanted to tell him everything. But the words stuck in my throat, and I just cried. “It’s okay not to say.” He patted my back like when I was little. “I know you don’t make decisions lightly. Transferring is good. A fresh start.” “You’re my daughter. Whatever you want to do, Dad supports you.” I begged him not to tell Luke’s parents. He was surprised but agreed. This time, I wouldn’t sacrifice my future. 5 I started packing everything Luke had ever given me. Gift boxes piled up in the corner. Paper stars he folded when I was sad scattered on the floor. A giant teddy bear taking up half my bed. Expensive dresses. Handmade gloves. The polaroid camera and the stack of photos he insisted on taking. Two huge boxes. Taping them shut, I realized it was already night. I struggled to carry the boxes downstairs. The dumpster was at the corner. Just as I was about to throw them in, laughter drifted on the wind. Luke, holding a beer, smiling brightly. Tiffany leaning on his arm, holding sparklers. Someone yelled “Make a wish, Tiffany!”, someone sang Happy Birthday. So it was her birthday. They were chatting and laughing. Somehow the topic turned to transfers. “Heard someone in our grade is transferring? Is it… Wen?” “No way.” Luke was fixing Tiffany’s hair, scoffing. “She’s obsessed with me. She can’t leave me.” “True, she listened to you and stayed home. You’re ruthless, Luke. Aren’t you worried her grades will drop?” Luke sounded casual but certain: “Doesn’t matter. She’s going to the same college as me anyway. Higher scores won’t help.” Tiffany stomped her foot. “Luke! Do you have to talk about her on my birthday?” Luke pinched her nose lovingly. “Princess, how many times do I have to say it? She’s just a sister to me. You jealous of her?” I finished dumping the trash and turned to leave. But then I saw Tiffany playfully hit Luke’s arm. On her wrist was a familiar red string bracelet. I rushed over. “That… that’s mine!” Luke spun around, shocked. “Wen? Why are you here?” I couldn’t mistake it. The bracelet had little silver stars. My mom got it from a temple when she was sick. She climbed thousands of steps for it. One for me, one for Luke. She said it would protect us, that it would be like she was always with us. The string was frayed. Luke had worn it for five years. And now he gave my mom’s last gift to Tiffany! How dare he! Tiffany shrank behind Luke. “What’s wrong with her? Scary…” Smack. The sound of the slap cut through the night air. My hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Luke’s face turned to the side. He froze, shock and anger in his eyes. My eyes burned. I ripped the bracelet off my own wrist. “Who wants your trash!” I threw it over the bridge railing. “Keep it!” “Luke treats you so well, and you hit him!” Tiffany cried. Luke grabbed my wrist, face dark. “Why did you throw it?” I watched the red string disappear into the river below. Without hesitation, I climbed over the railing. “Wen!” “Luke!” Two panicked voices. Tiffany held Luke back. “Don’t go! She’s doing it on purpose! She hit you! She doesn’t care about you!” Luke’s hand froze in mid-air. Conflict raged in his eyes. Anger, worry, and the sting of humiliation. “The bridge isn’t high, the water isn’t deep. She’s just scaring you!” “You’re bleeding. We need to go to the hospital!” After a long silence, Luke’s voice was ice cold. “Let’s go.” The river water hit my knees, bone-chillingly cold. We crossed this bridge every day for school. I remembered Luke always holding my hand, keeping me in the middle, away from the edge. “Stay away. What if you fall? I’m scared.” I’d tease him. “What if you fall?” He’d grip tighter. “I’d be fine. But you can’t fall.” The bridge that seemed so high back then was just a small jump now. I found the bracelet in the rocks. Walking home, I realized something. The bridge didn’t get shorter. The person who used to be afraid I’d fall just stopped caring if I got hurt. But it’s okay. I don’t need him anymore.

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My husband has a bizarre fetish. Role-playing. And in his twisted scripts, I’m always cast as the devoted wife he casts aside. Today, he’s the ruthless tycoon who falls for the nanny. Tomorrow, he’s the brilliant professor infatuated with his student. Each time, he makes me sign a divorce agreement, only to tear it up with a laugh the next day. “Darling,” he’d say, “it’s just a game.” That is, until my mother was in a car accident and needed $50,000 for emergency surgery. On that day, he was role-playing a bankrupt loser. “I’m broke, darling, completely penniless. Where would I get the money to save your mother?” I watched my mother take her last breath. On the day of her funeral, he showed up with a beautiful young college student on his arm. “Honey, I’ve fallen in love with my student. Let’s get a divorce.” Frank pulled a document from his briefcase and handed it to me. This time, I didn’t wait for him to tear it up. 1 A fresh divorce agreement. His signature was already on it. The game again. He was starting the game again, right here, at my mother’s wake, just after I’d lost the only family I had left. I stared at him, at that handsome face I once adored. For the past three years, every time he produced one of these agreements, I would play my part. I’d cry, I’d scream, I’d demand to know why. And then he’d laugh, rip up the paper, and pull me into his arms, cooing that it was all just for fun. He called it spicing things up, a way to keep the magic alive. And I believed him. But now, my mother was lying in a coffin just a few feet away. Before she died, she had gripped my hand, her eyes fixed on the door, waiting. She was waiting for the son-in-law she’d always treated as her own to come and see her one last time. He never came. I knelt before her coffin and pressed my forehead to the cold floor in a final, silent goodbye. Then I stood, and took the pen from Frank’s hand. There were no tears. No hysterics. As he watched, I wrote my name, each stroke deliberate and firm. “There. It’s done.” Frank froze. The breakdown, the screaming fit he was expecting, never came. The woman standing before him was unnervingly calm. “Clara, what kind of trick is this?” he frowned, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. The student, Mia, sensed something was wrong too. Her hand tightened on his arm. “Professor Vance… do you think she’s just in shock?” I ignored them. I picked up the second signed copy of the agreement, folded it neatly, and placed it in my purse. “Frank,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, my voice even and clear. “The game is over.” 2 The next morning, I went to the courthouse. I filed the petition for divorce, along with the legally signed agreement. The clerk glanced from the document to my face, then processed the paperwork with bureaucratic indifference. I pulled out my phone. The screen was flooded with missed calls and texts from Frank. “Clara, have you had your little tantrum yet? Get home now!” “I’ve torn up the agreement. We can pretend this never happened.” “How dare you hang up on me? Who do you think you are?” The last one had arrived half an hour ago: “If you’re not back by tonight, don’t ever bother coming back at all!” I blocked his number. I rented a small apartment, and after a bit of cleaning, I started my job search. After Frank and I got married, he’d convinced me to quit my job to be a full-time housewife, a willing participant in his endless, tedious role-playing games. He said he loved me, loved me to his very core, and that’s why he wanted to experience the thrill of falling in love with me over and over again in different scenarios. He insisted the cruel, heartless men who cast their wives aside in his games weren’t the real him. It was just acting. How ridiculous that sounds now. Maybe he was never acting at all. Maybe those cold, selfish, cruel masks were his true face. The court summons reached Frank quickly. I was in the middle of a job interview when his call came through. “Clara! Are you out of your goddamn mind? You actually took me to court?” I calmly walked to the end of the hallway. “Frank, we both signed the divorce agreement. The legal filing is just a formality to speed things up.” “Formality? Let me tell you something, this divorce is not happening!” “Frank, my mother is dead,” I said, cutting him off. There was a brief silence on the other end. “I know,” he said, his voice turning cold. “But that was her fate. You can’t take your anger out on me. A game is a game, and reality is reality. Can’t you even tell the difference?” “You’re the one who can’t tell the difference anymore.” I hung up and went back to my interview. It was for a clerical position at a small firm. The pay wasn’t great, but it was enough to support myself. The interview went well, and they told me I could start on Monday. That evening, when I returned to my apartment, I found two people waiting at my door. Frank and Mia. Frank’s face was a thundercloud. Mia just looked smug, as if she were here to watch a show. “Well, Clara. You’ve certainly grown a spine. Daring to play games with me for real?” Frank stepped forward, blocking my path. “There are no more games to be played between us, real or fake,” I said, trying to step around him to unlock my door. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. “Come home. Come back with me, and I can forget any of this ever happened.” “Let go of me,” my voice was ice. “Clara, don’t push your luck!” Mia fanned the flames from the side. “Professor, she’s just doing this for attention. It’s a classic move. Don’t fall for it.” Frank started to drag me away. “Frank, if you don’t let go right now, I’m going to scream.” “Go ahead! Scream! Let’s see who dares to get involved in a husband and wife’s private business!” he roared. A few neighbors peeked out of their doors at the commotion, but seeing Frank’s furious expression, they quickly retreated. I lifted my free hand and, with all the strength I could muster, I slapped him across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the hallway. Everyone froze. Including Frank. He touched his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You… you hit me?” 3 A furious fire ignited in Frank’s eyes. He raised his hand as if to strike back, but at the last second, he stopped himself. He stared at me, his gaze so intense it felt like he wanted to devour me whole. “Clara. You’ve got guts. Real guts.” He released my arm, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “You will regret this.” With that, he grabbed Mia’s hand and stormed away. Watching them disappear down the stairs, I finally noticed my hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from rage. I went inside the empty apartment and shut the door, sliding down against it until I was sitting on the floor. There was no trace of Frank here, yet I still felt like I was suffocating. His so-called games had left a deeper scar on me than I had ever realized. The next afternoon, I got a call from the bank. Our joint account had been frozen. It held all our savings—though, of course, most of it was money Frank had earned. I had expected this, so I wasn’t panicked. I still had a little money my mother had left me. If I was careful, it would be enough to last until my first paycheck. On Wednesday, while I was still getting the hang of my new job, a gaudily dressed woman burst into the office and pointed a finger right at my face. “Clara Vance! You shameless homewrecker! How dare you seduce my husband!” I stared at her, completely stunned, as every one of my new colleagues turned to gawk. “Ma’am, I think you must have the wrong person,” my supervisor said, stepping forward. “No, it’s her!” The woman brandished a photograph. It was a picture of me with a man. He was an old friend from college I hadn’t seen or spoken to in years. I had no idea where she got it. “Everyone, look! This is the woman who destroyed my family! My husband is divorcing me because of her!” she shrieked, collapsing into a heap on the floor, wailing and tearing at her hair. The office descended into chaos. I was trapped, unable to defend myself against the baseless accusations. I knew, with a sickening certainty, that this was Frank’s handiwork. He was trying to ruin my reputation, to leave me with nowhere to turn. My supervisor called me into her office. Her face was grim. “Clara, while I want to believe you, the company has to consider its image… Why don’t you take a few days off to sort things out.” It was their polite way of firing me. My phone rang. It was Frank. “How does it feel?” he asked, a smug smile in his voice. “I told you you’d regret this, Clara.” “You’re a despicable bastard, Frank.” “Despicable? I learned from the best,” he chuckled. “I’m giving you one last chance. Come back, beg me, and I might consider forgiving you.” “In your dreams.” I hung up. I would not beg him. Never. I walked in the rain for what felt like hours, until I was soaked to the bone. When I finally made it back to my apartment building, a cloying cloud of perfume assaulted me in the hallway. Mia was standing at my door, leaning against the frame as if she owned the place, a contemptuous smirk on her face. “What do you want?” I asked coldly. “Just came to see you,” she purred. “To see just how miserable you are now that the professor has thrown you away.” Her eyes raked over my drenched, pathetic state, and she laughed. “Tsk, tsk. So pitiful. You lost your job too, didn’t you? The professor said he’s going to make it impossible for you to survive in this city. He said you’ll come crawling back to him on your knees.” “He can wait forever.” I pushed past her and unlocked my door. “Still acting tough, are we?” Mia followed me inside. She walked over to the small table where I’d placed my mother’s portrait and picked it up. “You know, if your mother knew what a stubborn little fool you’re being, do you think she’d jump right out of her coffin?” “Take your hands off that,” my voice trembled. “What? Getting angry?” Mia tossed the frame lightly in her hand. “Oops. What if I… accidentally… dropped it?” “I said take your hands off it!” I lunged at her, trying to snatch the picture back. Mia let out a little shriek and deliberately let go. The frame hit the floor, and the glass shattered into a thousand pieces. My mother’s smiling face, fractured by a spiderweb of cracks. Something inside me snapped. 4 I don’t know where the strength came from. I grabbed Mia by the hair and slammed her to the ground. She screamed, clawing at me, her nails digging bloody tracks into my arms. I didn’t feel a thing. All I knew was that she had crossed a line. She had desecrated the memory of my mother. I was like a wild animal, ripping at her hair, slapping her face over and over. “I told you not to touch it! I told you!” Mia was dazed, her protests turning into terrified sobs. “You’re crazy! You’re a psycho! Frank! Help me!” The door was suddenly thrown open with a crash. Frank stormed in. His face turned white when he saw the scene. “Clara! Stop it!” He rushed over and shoved me away. I stumbled back, my back hitting the wall with a painful thud. Frank helped the hysterical Mia to her feet. When he saw the red welts on her face and her disheveled hair, his eyes turned murderous. “Clara, you’ve really lost your mind!” He advanced on me, his face twisted with a ferocity I had never seen before. “You dare touch her?” Seeing him shielding Mia like that, I started to laugh. A hollow, broken sound. “Frank,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “She broke my mother’s portrait.” Frank paused. He glanced at the shattered frame on the floor, then back at the weeping Mia. Mia immediately started defending herself. “I didn’t mean to! She just charged at me and I lost my grip!” Frank’s brow furrowed. He didn’t pursue the matter of the frame. Instead, he turned his cold gaze back to me. “Even so, you have no right to attack her. Apologize.” Apologize? He wanted me to apologize to the woman who had insulted my dead mother? “I said, apologize,” Frank repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And if I don’t?” I stared right back at him. “Then I’ll have to find another way to make you.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Hello, Captain Miller? I have a situation here… Yes, at a friend’s apartment. I’ve discovered some… illicit substances.” He was going to frame me. “Frank, you’re shameless!” “You forced my hand,” he said, ending the call. He looked at me, his eyes cold and hard. “The police will be here any minute, Clara. When they find the drugs, red-handed, what do you think will happen to you?” Mia had stopped crying. She was now looking at me with a triumphant smirk. “You can’t win against the professor, Clara. If you get on your knees right now and beg him, maybe, just maybe, he’ll have a change of heart and let you off the hook.” A chill washed over me. I looked at Frank’s familiar face, now a complete stranger to me. This was the man I had loved for three years. For another woman, for his sick and twisted games, he was willing to personally shove me into hell. Faintly, from outside, I could hear the sound of sirens approaching. A victorious smile touched Frank’s lips. “Time’s running out, Clara. What’s it going to be?”

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I sold my grandfather’s only legacy—our ancestral home. The five million was anonymously wired to my fiancée Isabella’s company, Aetherion Dynamics. It saved a three-billion-dollar drone contract, keeping the business afloat. Isabella promised to repay me once her project bonus came, so I could buy the house back. But on payday, the bonus went to a new intern, Ryan Croft. I confronted her. “Did you give my money to Ryan?” Isabella rubbed her temples, her eyes weary. “Noah, I know about your gambling debts. That money would vanish in a week. Ryan is talented and hardworking—he deserves it. This is for your own good.” Her words pierced me like ice. “Gambling debts? Who told you that?” “It doesn’t matter! You promised to change, and now you’re lying and trying to steal company funds!” I looked at her angry face, silent. Picking up the resignation letter on her desk, I signed my name. 1 Isabella didn’t even glance at the letter I signed. She simply tossed it into a drawer. There wasn’t a trace of regret or sadness on her face, only the quiet relief of having disposed of a problem. As I walked out of her office, I saw Ryan handing her a cup of coffee. “Bella, don’t waste your energy being angry at people who aren’t worth it. Your health is more important,” Ryan’s voice was a smooth, soothing balm. Isabella took the coffee, her furrowed brow relaxing into a faint, appreciative smile. “You’re always so thoughtful.” That smile was a dagger in my eye. The hushed whispers of my colleagues followed me as I walked away. The words were quiet, but they sliced through the air with perfect clarity. “A gambler? I knew he was a lost cause.” “Ms. Byers really did everything she could for him. She tried to save him.” “Serves him right. Five million dollars? Who in their right mind would give that to a degenerate gambler?” My face was a stone mask as I walked to my desk and began to pack. On the corner of my desk sat a framed photo from the early days of the company. In it, Isabella and I were crammed into a tiny office, slurping instant noodles. She was grinning at the camera, her smile so bright and pure. I picked up the frame, hesitated for a single heartbeat, then swept it, along with stacks of my design schematics, into the cardboard box. Nine years of my life’s work, traded for a slanderous lie. Clutching the box like a shield, I walked out of the building I had watched rise from the ground, a failure in the eyes of the world I had helped create. When I got back to my small apartment building, I froze. Piled by the entrance were several cardboard boxes, soaked through by the rain. They were the things I’d moved from my ancestral home—all of my grandfather’s old books and belongings. I had asked Isabella to store them at her villa, since my rented place was too small. A note from her, stuck to one of the boxes, was dissolving in the rain, the ink bleeding into the soggy cardboard. “No room for this. Get rid of this trash.” Trash… I knelt, my hands trembling as I touched the waterlogged spines of the antique books. The pages were fused together, my grandfather’s handwritten notes bleeding into illegible gray smudges. They were his life’s work, the last remaining root of my family. A cold, bottomless rage I had never known before surged through me. My heart felt like it had been encased in ice. I pulled out my phone to call her, to demand an explanation for this cruelty. The screen lit up, displaying the smiling face of my grandfather—my chosen wallpaper, a reminder of the man I wanted to be. His expression was so kind. My thumb hovered over the call button, unable to press it. Just then, a text message from a real estate agent popped up. “Mr. Kane, the ownership of the ancestral property was officially transferred at 3 p.m. today. As per your instructions, the funds have been anonymously deposited into the Aetherion Dynamics corporate account.” The last thread of hope snapped. I opened my banking app. Checking Account xxxx Balance: $86.52. The leftover change from selling my heritage. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. For her company, for our supposed future, I had sold my grandfather’s home, and now I was penniless, branded a degenerate gambler. Another notification popped up. It was from the company’s internal group chat. An announcement for a celebratory party, posted by Isabella herself. The theme: “Celebrating the brilliant success of our genius new talent, Ryan Croft, in securing the military contract!” My project, my triumph, the contract I had saved by selling my soul, had become the centerpiece of their celebration. The pain was so deep it had turned to a numb, cold fury. I tried calling Isabella one last time. The only reply was the robotic voice of the automated system: “The person you are calling is unavailable. Please try again later.” She was busy, no doubt, celebrating with her “genius.” I blocked her number, and with it, the entire absurd chapter of my life. I didn’t go home. I dragged the soaked boxes to a cheap motel nearby. The next morning, I went to the bank. I had one other savings account with a little over a hundred thousand dollars in it—my life savings, my last emergency fund. “Sir, I’m sorry, but all accounts under your name have been frozen,” the teller said, her voice flat and impersonal. I stared at her. “Frozen? Why?” “The request was made by your fiancée, Ms. Isabella Byers. The reason cited is a request from family to cooperate with a police investigation into your ‘illegal gambling activities.’” Isabella. Again. She didn’t just refuse to believe me; she was determined to cut me off at the knees, to destroy any chance I had of starting over. An icy dread snaked its way up my spine. I walked out of the bank and called her from my secondary phone, the one she hadn’t blocked. It rang for a long time before she picked up. “Who is this?” Her voice was hoarse, thick with a hangover. “It’s me.” A few seconds of silence, then her tone became frigid. “Noah. Why are you calling? Have you finally come to your senses? Are you ready to admit you were wrong?” “Why did you freeze my bank accounts?” I asked, my voice tight with suppressed rage. “For your own good,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “When you finally kick your addiction and show some real remorse, I’ll unfreeze them. Until then, I’ll manage your money for you.” “What gives you the right—” “The right of being your fiancée! I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself!” she snapped, cutting me off. “I have a meeting. I’m hanging up.” The line went dead. At that exact moment, a call came in from an unknown number. “Is this Noah Kane?” a rough voice growled. “You owe Titan Financial three hundred grand. When are you planning on paying up?” “I’ve never borrowed money from you.” “Oh yeah? Social Security number ending in xxxx, sound familiar?” He recited my entire SSN. “We’ve got your picture, too. Don’t try to weasel out of this. You’ve got three days. Pay up, or you’re going to find out what happens when you don’t.” He hung up. I understood instantly. Ryan’s setup was more than just a few photoshopped pictures. He had woven an entire web of fabricated debt around me. Before I could even process the shock, my landlord called. “Noah? Have you gotten yourself into some kind of trouble?” he asked, his voice wary. “Ms. Byers’s assistant paid me a visit today. Said you’ve got a bad gambling problem, told me to be careful. I can’t have that kind of thing in my building. The apartment’s no longer yours. I need you out in three days.” My career, my savings, my home. In a single day, I had been wiped clean, thrown out onto the street. I sent my resume to a few other tech firms, but the responses were all the same. “Mr. Kane, we’re sorry, but there are some concerns about your professional reputation. We cannot offer you a position at this time.” Every road was blocked. Desperate for cash, I took the high-performance computer I had built myself—a machine with the power of a server—to a second-hand electronics market. As the dealer stuffed a few crumpled bills into my hand, I felt the last piece of my spirit being stripped away. I found myself walking aimlessly, my feet eventually leading me back to my grandfather’s house. I just wanted to see it one last time. The iron gate swung open, and a group of people emerged, centered around one man. Leading them was Ryan Croft. He was dressed in a tailored suit, beaming like he owned the world—and this house. “Well, well, if it isn’t Noah,” he said, patting the grand, red-lacquered door behind him. “This place has great energy. My girlfriend rented it for me. A little reward for single-handedly landing the military project. It’s going to be my new studio.” He deliberately walked over and bumped my shoulder, whispering in a voice only I could hear. “Your house, your woman, your achievements… they’re all mine now.” I stared at him, my fists clenched at my sides. Just then, my phone rang. It was Isabella. I answered on instinct. “Noah, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. If you’re out of money, just tell me. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll take care of your finances for you, and I’ve asked Ryan to keep an eye on the old house for you, so don’t worry, okay?” Her perfectly timed “concern” was the final, twisted joke. Keeping an eye on it for me meant giving it to her new lover. I hung up without a word, a dead silence filling my soul. Looking at their triumphant faces, the last shred of my love for Isabella withered and died. I turned and walked into the drizzling rain. I had no destination, and I needed none. I pulled out my phone and made one more call. “Hello? Is this the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office?” The next day, Aetherion Dynamics published a long article on their official company blog. In it, Isabella wrote in the first person, a heart-wrenching account of how she had “accidentally discovered” my crippling gambling addiction, which had driven me to financial ruin. She detailed her desperate, failed attempts to reason with me, and her ultimate, painful decision to “do what was necessary” to pull me back from the brink, even if it meant public shame. The article was accompanied by a series of expertly photoshopped images, courtesy of Ryan. There were pictures of me entering and exiting casinos in Macau, the backgrounds blurry but my face perfectly clear. There were even forged IOUs for massive sums, with a sloppy imitation of my signature at the bottom. The narrative painted Ryan as the heroic young talent who had stepped up in a moment of crisis to save the company. And I was cast as the ungrateful degenerate who had nearly destroyed it all. The story exploded online. It was picked up by major news outlets. My name became a trending topic, tagged with “gambling,” “traitor,” and “scumbag.” My parents, back in my hometown, obviously saw the news. The moment I answered their call, my father’s rage-choked voice roared through the phone. “You worthless son! If your grandfather knew you sold his house to gamble, he’d be rolling in his grave!” I opened my mouth to explain. “How could you do this to his memory! How could you!” His shouting grew louder, and in the background, I could hear a commotion, other voices yelling. “How could the Kane family produce such a disgrace!” “You should be ashamed to be alive!” I heard strangers’ voices cursing me. “Get out of our town!” “The family of a gambler is just as bad!” It hit me like a ton of bricks. The online mob, using the information Isabella had so conveniently provided, had found my parents’ home. “Dad, listen to me—” “Don’t you dare call me Dad!” he bellowed. “Do you have any idea what just happened? Those people, they came to the house!” “They broke our windows!” “Your mother was so scared, she had a heart attack!” My world went silent. The phone nearly slipped from my hand. “I didn’t gamble, Dad, you have to believe me…” “Still lying!” My father’s voice was cracking now, turning into a sob. “The pictures, the IOUs online, it’s all right there in black and white! Are you saying it’s all fake?” “That nice girl Isabella even spoke out about it! Who are you trying to fool?” My mother must have snatched the phone, because all I could hear was her muffled, desperate crying. “Son, please, it’s not too late! Isabella is a good girl, she’s still waiting for you to come back to your senses. You can’t disappoint her again. Just go back, apologize to her… our family needs you…” “A good girl?” The words were like knives in my heart. She hadn’t just ruined me; she had manipulated my own family into becoming her accomplices. I was defenseless. I stood there in silence, listening to the agonizing sting of being condemned by the people I loved most, until my heart was completely numb. After I hung up, a text from Isabella arrived, as if on cue. “See how much your family is hurting for you, Noah? Does it feel bad?” “Just admit it, and come back. If you’re willing to confess, I can find it in my heart to forgive you this one time.” Her condescending offer of charity, her nauseating hypocrisy, made my stomach turn. I finally understood the exquisite pleasure one could derive from grinding a person into the dirt, then magnanimously offering them a hand up. I didn’t reply. I walked into a nearby internet cafe and sent one last email. “Due to personal reasons, I, the sole patent holder, am hereby freezing all commercial use of said patent, effective immediately.” You wanted to play dirty? Fine. My turn.

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1 At a critical juncture in the project, Human Resources, citing company policy, forced me to take my ten-day annual leave. The multi-million dollar order I had been on the verge of closing? Gone. My boss, face flushed with rage, dragged me and the HR manager into his office. “At a time like this, who the hell authorized her vacation?” The HR manager looked at him, the picture of innocence. “Sir, it’s company policy. All employees must take their annual leave before November, or they forfeit their year-end bonus.” It was like punching a pillow. The boss turned his fury on me. “And you? Even on vacation, you can’t answer a client’s email?” I pulled out the disciplinary slip I’d received last month for taking my work phone into the cafeteria. “Company policy states that work phones are not to leave the office area. Penalty: a five-hundred-dollar fine.” My boss’s face darkened. “Are you two idiots? Can’t you be flexible?” he roared. “The rules are rigid, but you’re living, breathing people!” The HR manager and I exchanged a look of helpless resignation. “We don’t dare,” we said in unison. I spoke up. “Sir, last month on a business trip, I noticed a flight was cheaper than the train. I took the flight, but you refused to reimburse me because it wasn’t in line with the company’s travel policy. I ended up paying for it myself.” The HR manager added, “And remember Kevin? He rushed out to meet a client without getting your approval first because it was an emergency. You docked his entire month’s bonus for being absent from his post during work hours.” “It’s not that we don’t know how to be flexible, sir,” I concluded. “It’s that we can’t afford the consequences.” The boss waved his hands dismissively. “Enough, enough, you’re giving me a headache.” He sighed. “Fortunately, the client was gracious enough to give us one more chance. Get back to it, prepare a new proposal, and if you can’t close this deal, it’s your head on the chopping block!” As I left his office, a colleague handed me an application form. “According to company policy,” she said, her voice flat, “any employee who takes more than three consecutive days of leave must submit a formal request to have their work phone reactivated.” I let out a long sigh. The approval process would take at least a week. At this rate, the deal would be dead and buried long before I could even contact the client. So, application in hand, I knocked on the boss’s door again. But this time, I was met by the boss’s wife—Seraphina Thorne. The story went that she had built the company from the ground up with him. They were inseparable. “Who are you?” she demanded, her eyes cold. I respectfully placed the application on her husband’s desk. “Mrs. Thorne, hello. I’m Sarah Miller, from the sales department. I just need Mr. Thorne to sign this so I can get back in touch with a client.” She glanced at the form and snorted. “Don’t think I don’t know the rules. All applications must be signed by the department head before being submitted to the CEO. You’re trying to bypass the chain of command, and I know exactly what you’re trying to do.” So she saw me as a rival, did she? Lady, I just want to do my job, pay my bills, and go home. I really don’t have the energy for anything else. I looked at her, my expression a mask of sincerity. “I’m only trying to expedite this because the situation is extremely time-sensitive. I would really appreciate your understanding.” Without a word, she stood up and slapped me across the face. “I said no. The company rules are not just for decoration,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “And we’re both women here. I know your type. Cut the act, or you’ll be the one who ends up embarrassed.” I cupped my stinging cheek, a wave of hot rage washing over me. But I knew that fighting fire with fire would only get me burned. So I calmly retrieved the application from the desk. “You’re right. If that’s the company policy, then we should follow it.” A smug smile finally touched her lips. “Exactly. Now get out.” After leaving the office, I took my time, enjoying a leisurely lunch before heading to my supervisor’s office. His assistant frowned. “I’m sorry, he’s out of town on business. He won’t be back for at least a week.” I put on my most disappointed face. “Oh, what terrible timing. Well, I’ll just have to come back then!” I walked away feeling a strange sense of lightness. After all, I wasn’t the one with everything to lose. Three days later, a furious Mr. Thorne hunted me down. “The client says they can’t reach you! What the hell have you been doing?” I pointed to the still-pending approval on my phone. “Waiting for my supervisor’s signature. After he signs, and then you sign, I can get my work phone back.” He took a deep breath. “Then why didn’t you just come directly to me?” Just then, Seraphina walked up behind him. “I tried to,” I said, my voice even. “But Mrs. Thorne insisted that no matter how urgent the situation, company policy must be followed to the letter.” Seraphina’s face flushed. “Don’t you dare slander me! You never said it was urgent! This is just an excuse for your own incompetence!” Nice try, but no. I gestured to my colleague, Chloe, at the next desk. “The other day, I brought the application to this office. Mrs. Thorne stopped me. Not only did she refuse to help, but she also slapped me across the face. If you don’t believe me, you can ask her.” Hearing her name, Chloe stood up. “It’s true, Mr. Thorne. When she came out of your office that day, half her face was swollen.” Unable to deny it, Seraphina resorted to a ridiculous defense. “Fine… I hit her! But why didn’t you dodge? It’s your own fault for being slow!” I let out a weary laugh. So now it was the victim’s fault. But this time, I wasn’t going to let it slide. After she hit me, I went straight to the hospital. The doctor said I was at risk for a concussion. I handed the medical report to Mr. Thorne. His face turned as black as ink. “All of your medical expenses will be covered from my personal account,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “And I’ll give you an additional ten thousand dollars in compensation.” Seraphina grabbed his arm, her voice shrill. “Are you crazy? It was just a slap! Why are you paying her so much?” Mr. Thorne looked like he was about to break a tooth. “If she presses charges, we’ll be paying a lot more than ten thousand dollars, and you could be facing jail time.” He was right. If he hadn’t handled this to my satisfaction, my next call would have been to the police. But for now, ten thousand dollars for a slap seemed like a fair trade. Seraphina shot me a murderous glare and stomped out of the room. Mr. Thorne started to go after her, but I stopped him. “Mr. Thorne, while you’re here, would you mind signing this? So I can contact the client?” “You…” He met my innocent gaze, and with a flourish of frustration, he scrawled his name on the form before rushing after his wife. Phew. Chloe let out a long breath. “I’ve been waiting to see someone put Seraphina in her place for years. Next time you plan something like this, count me in.” With the CEO’s signature, I finally got my work phone back. The moment I turned it on, a tidal wave of notifications washed over me. I found the contact for the client I had lost touch with. “Hello, this is Sarah Miller from Thorne Industries. I was wondering if you had some time this afternoon to continue our discussion about the partnership?” He replied almost instantly. “I have other plans this afternoon. Let’s do dinner. The Grand Majestic Hotel. This is your company’s last chance.” Suddenly, I had a new problem. Not the pressure, but the location. Company policy stipulated a client dinner budget of no more than one hundred dollars. The so-called reason was to control costs. What can you even get at the Grand Majestic for a hundred dollars? I had to swallow my pride and go to the finance department. “Hey, Brenda. I have a client dinner tonight, and he picked a rather expensive place. Is there any way you could approve a slightly larger budget?” She looked up from her desk, her expression annoyed. “What are you people eating, gold? A hundred dollars isn’t enough? No.” I bit my tongue. Fine. I’m just an employee. If something goes wrong later, it’s not on me. Just as I was about to leave, Seraphina waltzed in, all smiles. “What’s going on? Why the long faces?” Brenda shot me a venomous look. “It’s just Sarah here, making my life difficult. Says a hundred dollars isn’t enough for a client dinner and wants me to approve more. Can you believe the nerve? What a waste of company money.” I braced myself for another tirade from Seraphina. But instead, she slung an arm around my shoulder. “Brenda, that’s where you’re wrong. Sarah is one of our top salespeople! A budget increase is a small price to pay for a major deal. You go have dinner with the client,” she said to me, her voice syrupy sweet. “Don’t worry about the cost. As long as you close the deal, the company will cover the entire bill, no matter how much it is.” I had to pinch myself. Was I hallucinating? Was this the same Seraphina who had slapped me just a few days ago? I mumbled a thank you and quickly escaped the finance office, feeling a massive sense of relief. But hey, an unlimited budget was an unlimited budget. No more penny-pinching for me. I arrived at the private dining room at the agreed-upon time. The moment I stepped inside, a small child appeared out of nowhere and rammed headfirst into my stomach. The impact sent stars exploding behind my eyes. “Where did you…” I started to snap, but the client rushed over and pulled the boy back. “Did he hurt you? I’m so sorry. My wife’s out of town, and I had no one to watch him, so I had to bring him along.” The client’s son. Thank god I hadn’t finished my sentence. “Oh, it’s your son! No problem at all. It’s good for a boy to be energetic.” We sat down and got straight to business. I had done my homework, and the conversation flowed smoothly. Before the main course even arrived, Mr. Henderson announced that he was ready to sign the contract the next day. I was ecstatic. I raised a glass of wine. “To our new partnership. I’ll drink to that!” The next morning, I dragged my hungover self into the office. “Girl, you look like you got run over by a truck. Did you get into a fight last night?” I shot Chloe a tired look. The only thing on my mind was getting that dinner reimbursed. Sixty-seven hundred dollars was not a small sum. I knocked cautiously on the finance office door. “Brenda? Busy?” She glanced up at me. “What is it? Spit it out.” I laid the receipt from the restaurant on her desk. “The deal is closed. If you could just reimburse me for this… Mrs. Thorne said the full amount would be covered.” She picked up the receipt with a bored expression. Then her eyes widened. “Sixty-seven hundred dollars! What on earth did you eat?” Well… the client ordered. It’s not like I could stop him. She continued down the list. “A glass of juice for five hundred and eighty dollars? Was it made of liquid gold? And why were you ordering juice at a business dinner anyway? Was someone actually drinking it, or were you just padding the bill for a little kickback, Sarah? I think you have some explaining to do.” Okay, now I was angry. She was accusing me of fraud. But I needed that money, so I took a deep breath. “Mr. Henderson brought his son with him last night. The juice was for the boy.” CRASH! Her glass shattered on the floor. “Sarah, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable! Mr. Henderson doesn’t have a son! Are you admitting to falsifying expenses for a kickback? I could have you arrested for this!” That did it. My patience snapped. Just because she didn’t know didn’t mean it wasn’t true. “If you don’t believe me, go ask the restaurant. But that’s your problem. My problem is that you need to reimburse me right now.” My sharp tone made her face flush with anger. “Do you know who I am? How dare you speak to me like that! The company policy is a hundred dollars per meal. That’s what I’m reimbursing you. The rest is on you.” Sixty-six hundred dollars out of my own pocket? Not a chance. I leaned over the desk, my hands planted firmly on its surface. “Are you absolutely sure you’re not going to reimburse me?” She nodded without a second’s hesitation. The next thing she knew, I had snatched the receipt and was storming into the boss’s office. He looked up, startled. “What are you doing here? Did you close the deal?” I slapped the receipt down on his desk. “The deal is closed. Now, are you going to pay for this or not?” Hearing that the deal was done, a flicker of glee crossed his face. He picked up the receipt, but his brow furrowed when he saw the total. Tsk. “Sarah, this is way over budget.” Just then, Brenda rushed in. “Mr. Thorne, I’d like to report Sarah for submitting a fraudulent expense report to get a kickback. Just look at the details on this bill! Who orders a five-hundred-and-eighty-dollar juice at a business meeting?” Mr. Thorne scrutinized the bill, clearly looking for any excuse not to pay. “The authenticity of this bill is questionable. How about this: once the contract is officially finalized and we’ve verified this receipt, we’ll reimburse you the standard hundred dollars, and we can split the rest fifty-fifty.” Fifty-fifty? Was he serious? I struggled to keep my voice even. “Every single item on that bill is a legitimate expense. The juice was for Mr. Henderson’s son. If you don’t believe me, you can verify it yourself. But I will not accept your offer. Are you planning to split the profits from this deal with me fifty-fifty as well?” Mr. Thorne had the grace to look embarrassed. “It’s not that we won’t reimburse you, it’s just… this is an exorbitant amount. You should have checked with me before paying.” “Mrs. Thorne said the budget was unlimited as long as I closed the deal.” Just as our argument was escalating, Seraphina herself breezed in, humming a little tune. “What’s all the fuss about? Why are we shouting?” I tried to stay calm. “Mrs. Thorne, you told me yesterday that if I closed the deal, the company would cover the full cost of the dinner, no matter what.” She blinked her big, innocent eyes. “Did I say that? I don’t recall.” Brenda shook her head vehemently. “No, you never said anything like that to me.” Oh, I see. It was a setup. I pulled out my phone and played the recording I had made of our conversation the day before. Seraphina’s sweet, encouraging voice filled the office. “Sarah, don’t worry. As long as you close the deal, the company will cover the entire bill, no matter how much it is.” The faces of Seraphina and Brenda turned a deep shade of crimson. “Mr. Thorne,” I said, my voice dripping with false sweetness. “Can I get that reimbursement now?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Mr. Henderson will be here any minute. Let’s get the contract signed first.” Fine. I could wait. I wouldn’t let them derail this now. We all filed into the conference room, where Mr. Henderson was already waiting. “Mr. Thorne, your Sarah is a real rising star. She has a bright future ahead of her.” At the praise, Seraphina’s face soured. After some pleasantries, we got down to the signing. Just as Mr. Henderson was about to put pen to paper, his assistant burst into the room, his face pale. “Mr. Henderson, it’s an emergency! Your son ate some cookies from the break room, and now he’s foaming at the mouth!”

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A bullet had torn through my brother’s heart on his last peacekeeping tour. A ruptured artery. Massive bleeding. He had three hours to live, tops. But as they wheeled him into the OR, I was calmly watering my plants. A minute later, the door to my office flew open, kicked in by my wife, Lena. Her voice was a blade. “That’s your brother in there, Elias! Are you just going to let him die? How can you even wear that uniform?” I knew, with cold certainty, that I was the only surgeon who could save him. I just murmured, “Oh,” and continued tending to my flowers. The next second, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. My mother’s slap. “Elias Thorne! You ungrateful monster. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for your brother!” My father ripped the service ribbons from his own uniform and threw them at my face. “Get in that operating room and save your brother. Now.” I simply raised a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth, then coolly rolled up my sleeve, revealing the tapestry of horrifying scars that covered my arm. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “This hand is useless. I can’t operate anymore.” 1 The air in the office seemed to crystallize. Every eye was fixed on my right hand. This was the hand that had performed countless impossible surgeries. The hand they once called “The Hand of God” at this military hospital. But now, it was a grotesque ruin, twitching uncontrollably. It trembled so violently I could barely hold the watering can steady. I was, for all intents and purposes, a cripple. Lena shook her head wildly, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Stop acting, Elias. You were in surgery just yesterday. How could your hand be ‘useless’ today?” “You’d really sink this low? You’d lie about this just to avoid saving him?” I met her accusation with a faint, chilling smile and held my arm out closer for her to inspect. “Believe what you want, Lena. My hand is finished.” I let the smile widen. “Perhaps fate has decided it’s Clark’s time to die.” The dark, swollen veins looked as if they were about to burst from my skin. The sight made her recoil, but her indignation quickly returned. “You’re a medical genius! I bet you did something to your own hand, used some obscure technique to make it look like this. I don’t believe for a second it was ruined in just a few hours!” Beside her, my mother’s composure finally broke. Tears streamed down her face. She reached for me, not to strike me again, but to clutch at my sleeve, her voice pleading. “Elias, I’m begging you. As your mother, I am begging you. Please, just go operate on your brother.” Her voice cracked. “Have you forgotten who saved you when you were being torn apart by those wild dogs?” A phantom pain shot through me, the old scars on my back burning as if they were fresh. I was eight years old, a Boy Scout on a camping trip in the countryside. A pack of feral dogs appeared out of nowhere, lunging for me. Their teeth sank into my back, ripping flesh from bone. I was moments from death when he appeared. Nine-year-old Clark, brandishing a heavy branch, driving the dogs away before carrying me home. He saved my life. My parents were overwhelmed with gratitude. When they learned he was the victim of horrific abuse at home, they decided to adopt him. My injuries were severe. I spent a full year bedridden, missing the selection trials for the elite military academy. Clark, naturally, took my spot. I could only watch from my sickbed as he dazzled the recruiters, earning the praise that should have been mine. Everyone lauded my parents for gaining such a brilliant son. No one seemed to remember that I had once been even more brilliant. My body healed, but it was never the same. The rigorous training of a soldier was now beyond me. For my parents, both decorated battlefield commanders, having a son who was a true, hardened soldier was everything. A dream only Clark could fulfill. From that day on, the scales of their love tipped, never to be balanced again. Clark got the first pick of everything. Clark’s needs always came first. In my own home, I started to feel like the one who had been adopted. I was jealous, but I swallowed my bitterness and accepted it. Hoping to win back their approval, I became a military surgeon. But it changed nothing. Their eyes still followed Clark, their pride swelling only for him. Their cold indifference nearly drove me into a deep depression. I pushed the memories away. I didn’t answer them. I just went back to my flowers. My father strode forward and swatted the planter from my hands. It exploded on the floor, a shower of terracotta and soil. “Your brother is lying on a gurney, bleeding out, and you have the heart to play with these damn flowers? Are you even human?” He wasn’t finished. He brought his boot down, grinding the delicate petals into the dirt. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. My grandmother had given me the seeds for those flowers. Still, I said nothing. I knelt, carefully picking up the broken shards and ruined blossoms. My mother completely unraveled. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with tears as she sobbed. “Please, Elias! I’m begging you! Do you want your father and me to get on our knees? Just go look at him! Please, just one look!” She bent her knees, as if she truly was about to prostrate herself before me. I had never seen her lose control like this. Not even when I was a child, mauled and bleeding, had she shown a hint of panic. A commander, she always said, must remain impassive in any situation. Why was it so different for Clark? My father’s voice boomed with the authority he used on the battlefield. “I don’t care if you’re crippled. You will perform this surgery, and you can fall apart after!” A sharp edge of a broken pot sliced my palm. A thin line of red welled up. A mocking smile played on my lips. “Are you sure about that? If Clark dies on my table, whose fault will it be then?” 2 Disappointment, regret, sheer disbelief—a storm of emotions churned in their eyes. “Enough, Elias,” Lena snarled. “We all know if you do this surgery, it will be a success. Unless you don’t want to save him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or maybe… you want to kill him?” I just chuckled softly and continued to gather the broken pieces of my flowerpot. “This is insane!” Their words washed over me, but I remained silent, my head bowed. Time was ticking away. Clark was running out of it. Suddenly, a nurse burst in from the operating theater, her face pale. “It’s bad! Colonel Thorne is flatlining! If we don’t operate now, he won’t last another ten minutes.” My mother swayed, her eyes rolling back in her head as if she might faint. That’s when Lena stepped forward, her fists clenched. “Mom, Dad… let me do it. Let me perform the surgery.” “Elias and I studied under the same mentor. I’ve observed this procedure countless times. I know I can do it.” My parents trusted Lena, but this was Clark’s life on the line. Their golden boy. Their everything. My mother hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? The senior specialists all refused. You’ve never been the lead surgeon on something this complex.” A flicker of steel entered Lena’s eyes. She shot a venomous glare in my direction. “That’s only because Elias hogs the spotlight, never giving anyone else a chance! The truth is, my skills are every bit as good as his now.” She pressed on, her voice filled with conviction. “I know this procedure inside and out. And with the help of Elias’s surgical assistance mech, I’m confident I can succeed.” My body went rigid. I had spent seven years developing that mech-assisted surgical system. It was designed for the most delicate operations, like suturing microscopic blood vessels, guiding the surgeon’s hand with inhuman precision. Its success rate was hovering around sixty percent. The hope of saving Clark lit up my parents’ faces, though a shadow of doubt remained. “I’ve heard how difficult this is,” my father said. “Can a machine really make the difference? I’m still not sure.” Lena was ready with a reassuring answer. “Don’t worry. The assistance arm handles the fine motor skills, the impossibly precise suturing. Plus, I won’t be alone. I’ll have a full team of doctors assisting me.” As if on cue, a group of surgeons filed in from the hallway, all nodding their agreement, all offering their help. I scanned their faces. Most of them were my own residents, my protégés. And now, every single one of them had turned their back on me. Tears of relief streamed down my parents’ faces. They grabbed Lena’s hands, their gratitude overflowing. “Lena, my dear, if you pull this off, we’ll write you a letter of recommendation to the Central Command Medical Center. You’ll be made a senior consultant. And everyone who helps you, we’ll make sure their superiors know of their valor.” My hand twitched again, a tremor of ice this time. A position I had bled for, worked seven long years to achieve, and they could grant it to Lena with a single letter. A letter they had never once offered to write for me. My heart, already a cold, dead weight, sank even lower. “Hold on,” I said, my voice cutting through their celebration. “You want to use my machine? Have you obtained my authorization?” The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped back to absolute zero. Lena stared at me, aghast. “Elias, have you lost your mind? Your brother is dying, and you’re talking about authorization?” 3 A cold smile touched my lips. “That machine is the result of seven years of my life’s work. Why should I let you use it for free?” Lena’s eyes burned with hatred. My parents looked at me as if I were a monster they were seeing for the first time. “Elias,” my mother choked out, “we were wrong to have ever raised you. If we’d known you’d become this… this thing… Clark should have let those dogs finish you off!” My own mother, wishing me dead. I should have felt something. Pain. Anger. But there was nothing left inside me but a vast, silent emptiness, like a dead lake. I continued calmly, “Unless… you sign over the villa. The one in my parents’ name. Then I might consider it.” My parents were trembling with rage. “You bastard!” My father’s hand flew up, striking me again. I just smiled through the pain. “That’s another million you owe me. Pay up, or you get no authorization.” His hand hovered in the air, shaking, but it didn’t fall again. “You vile creature!” my mother screamed. “Using your brother’s life to blackmail us for money? That house was meant for Clark! It was going to be our wedding gift to him and his future bride.” I didn’t respond. I just tapped my watch, a silent reminder that their time was running out. After a moment of agonizing indecision, my father finally broke. He scribbled out a transfer deed on the spot and had it rushed for an official seal. Minutes later, the signed contract and the deed to the villa were in my hand. “There,” he spat. “Now sign the authorization.” My pen hovered over the paper, then stopped. “Seven years of work,” I mused. “One house is hardly enough. I also want the family heirloom. The locket.” My mother’s eyes widened in horror. “That is for the eldest son’s wife! It belongs to Clark’s future bride! How dare you!” The eldest son. Before Clark, that was me. I said nothing, just idly twirled the pen between my fingers, waiting. Finally, they yielded. My father sent someone to retrieve the heirloom. Only after the delicate, antique locket was safely in my possession did I sign the paper. “There. You have my permission,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “I do hope you know how to operate it.” The mech’s success rate was sixty percent, but that number was entirely dependent on the lead surgeon. In the end, it was the human, not the machine, who would determine the outcome. Lena scoffed. “Just you watch. You’re not the only genius in this hospital, Elias.” I gave a slight, knowing smile. With the deed in one hand and the locket in the other, I walked out of that office with my head held high. As I passed my parents, my father’s voice, cold as a tombstone, followed me. “Don’t bother coming home again.” I just grunted in acknowledgment and kept walking. The stares of everyone in the hallway were like daggers. Even patients I had personally saved now shook their heads in disgust. In their eyes, I was a monster, a pariah who would trade his own brother’s life for profit. I didn’t care. I smiled as I left the hospital behind. I went back to the house, packed my bags, and erased every trace of my existence there. Then I drove to the villa. My grandmother’s favorite carnations by the front door had withered and died. It didn’t matter. I would bring them back. I placed the locket on the small altar before her photograph. Grandma, I got it back. I’ll never let someone like Clark tarnish it. He doesn’t deserve it. The surgery took nearly four hours. The entire field hospital held its breath. The grounds outside were swarming with media, a circus of cameras and reporters. My phone blew up with calls and messages, a flood of hate from a world that had already judged and condemned me. I was a cold-blooded animal, a disgrace. My years of service, my past triumphs, were all rendered worthless. I ignored it all, focusing only on the delicate, withered carnations in my hands. Six hours after it began, the doors to the operating theater swung open. Lena emerged, proclaiming the surgery a resounding success. The hospital erupted in cheers. The media descended upon her, hailing her as a hero. The headlines were already being written: The top surgeon’s throne had a new heir. Lena was the new “Hand of God.” She spoke eloquently to the cameras, describing the grueling procedure and magnanimously promising to make the surgical mech technology available to hospitals everywhere. “A doctor’s duty is to save lives,” she declared, her voice ringing with false piety. “What Elias Thorne refused to do, I did for him!” Offers from medical tech corporations poured in. Lena ultimately signed an exclusive deal with the titan, Astral Corp. Overnight, Lena became a household name. And I became a rat, scurrying in the filth of public opinion. Looking at the court summons that arrived on my phone, I knew my judgment day was at hand. 4 A few days later, a military vehicle pulled up in front of the villa. I gathered my prepared documents and stood for a moment before my grandmother’s portrait. “Wait for me, Grandma,” I whispered. “I’ll be back soon.” Then I walked out and calmly surrendered myself to the military police. At the tribunal, every face was a mask of contempt. My parents glared at me with a hatred so pure it could have melted steel. The judge banged his gavel. “Elias Thorne, you stand accused by this council of dereliction of duty and gross violation of the Military Medical Code. How do you plead?” I slowly lifted my head, meeting his gaze. “Not guilty.” The courtroom exploded. Accusations flew from every corner. If not for the bailiffs holding them back, my parents would have torn me apart with their bare hands. “Not guilty?” Lena scoffed from the witness stand. “You abandoned your brother and blackmailed your family! We all saw it! How dare you deny it?” “Elias, if you had a shred of decency, you’d confess,” she continued, her voice dripping with disgust. “If I hadn’t stepped in, your brother would be dead!” I looked at them, my expression as still and dead as a frozen lake. “But he’s not dead, is he?” A collective gasp swept through the room. Camera flashes strobed around me, the media desperate to capture the face of this unrepentant villain. No matter what the judge asked, my answer was the same. “Not guilty.” Just as the proceedings reached a stalemate, the grand doors of the courtroom swung open. Clark was wheeled in, looking frail and pale. Even with the surgery’s success, his body was shattered. He’d never regain the strength to be a commander. The life he had stolen was now, finally, broken. “Your Honor, Mom, Dad,” he said, his voice weak but clear. “If my brother won’t admit to abandoning me… then perhaps he’ll admit to treason!”

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My heart died on our tenth wedding anniversary. It started when I half-jokingly told my husband I wanted a Hermès Birkin 25. His face went cold. “A housewife like you has no use for a bag like that.” The words were a stiletto to the heart. Ten years ago, I was by his side when we built this company from nothing. Now, on the eve of its IPO, I thought my sweat and tears counted for something. He could buy himself a hundred-thousand-dollar Mercedes GLE to “keep up appearances.” He could gift a client’s wife a gray Kelly bag to close a big deal. But on our anniversary, a gift for me was a waste? As I looked down, my spirit sinking, I saw his phone’s screen, a perfect, damning reflection in the window pane. He was messaging a woman with a pink avatar. I’m heading to the Hermès store now. Pick any color you like. So, my place had already been taken. It was time to take back everything that was mine. 01 The clink of wine glasses was crisp and clear. “Happy tenth anniversary.” I set my glass down, forcing a smile at the man across the table. In the dim restaurant light, my husband, Ethan, looked like a stranger. He was in an impeccably tailored suit, his hair slicked back, a new Rolex—my gift to him—gleaming on his wrist. After a decade of grinding, he finally had the status symbols he’d always craved. Just a moment before, I’d made my joke. “Honey, you know what I’d love? A Birkin 25.” “A housewife like you has no use for a bag like that,” he’d mumbled, his eyes never leaving his phone. I noticed his thumb swiping furiously across a chat interface I’d never seen before. A woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. I had booked this exclusive restaurant to celebrate our decade together. He had shown up empty-handed. That’s when I saw it. The mirrored wall behind him gave me a perfect view of his phone screen. I quickly angled my own phone and snapped a picture. I remembered the day we got married. We celebrated with a cheap plate of fish and chips at a greasy spoon diner behind the university. His eyes, back then, were only for me. He’d get annoyed if I focused more on my food than on him, refusing to let it go until I kissed him. “Is it busy at the office?” I asked, cutting a piece of foie gras and letting it melt on my tongue. “Yeah. New project.” He finally put his phone down, but immediately started glancing at his watch. “Is Teddy okay at home by himself?” “I asked a friend to come over and watch him,” I said, meeting his eyes. “We agreed, remember? This is our anniversary date. No kids.” He froze for a second before plastering on a smile. “Of course. I was just worried about our son.” The lunch ended in a flat, sterile silence. I never got a gift. On the way home, Ethan drove me in his new Mercedes. “I’ve got to swing by the office for a bit,” he said after a moment. “I won’t be long. You go on home and take care of Teddy.” Suddenly, a notification pinged through the car’s Bluetooth speakers. He fumbled to switch the audio to his phone’s private mode, but it was too late. I saw the notification on the dashboard screen. A pink cartoon avatar. The message that flashed beneath it was a punch to the gut: Thanks, honey. I quickly turned my head, pretending I hadn’t seen a thing. “Who’s bugging you today?” I asked, trying to sound casual. After ten years, everyone at the company knew today was our anniversary. “It’s just Mark, from the project team,” he said. The tension in his voice was so thick, not even the Bose sound system could hide it. As I got out of the car, I leaned in, feigning to straighten his collar. A cloying perfume, not mine, hit me. And there, just behind his ear, was the faint, unmistakable print of wine-red lipstick. “What’s this?” I asked, pointing directly at it. He wiped at it with his hand, his face turning ghostly white. He struggled for a moment before forcing a laugh. “Oh, that. We had a department thing today, you know? The interns were fooling around, putting makeup on everyone…” I smiled and nodded, letting it drop. Ten years of marriage had taught me one thing: some battles require careful preparation before you declare war. 02 Back home, Teddy was taking his nap. After my friend left, I started mechanically sorting the laundry. A dark blue button-down shirt appeared in my hands. Almost immediately, that same sweet, nauseating perfume wafted up from the fabric. An idea sparked. I pulled out my phone and found the picture I’d taken at the restaurant. I zoomed in. Then zoomed in again. For a second, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. In the photo, Ethan was chatting with the woman with the pink avatar. Her contact name was “Cora.” His last message to her read: I’m heading to the Hermès store now. Pick a color you like. The washing machine rumbled to life, but the sound was distant, muffled. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. I thought back over the past six months. The increasing number of late nights “at the office.” The new gym membership. The new passcode on his phone. His recent, sudden enthusiasm for taking Teddy on solo outings. The signs had all been there. I had been so busy managing our home, raising our child, that I’d missed the betrayal happening right beside me. It seemed I had lost myself for a very long time. “Mommy!” Teddy stood at the laundry room door, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “What is it, sweetie?” I quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen without my notice. “Daddy said he’s taking me to the amusement park next Saturday!” Teddy’s face was lit with pure joy. “That’s wonderful! Haven’t you been wanting to spend more time with Daddy? Are you excited he’s making time for you?” “Yes! But…” My son’s face clouded for a moment. “Daddy always brings that Auntie Cora with us. I don’t like her, but she always brings me presents!” The blood in my veins turned to ice. “Auntie Cora?” “Yeah. Daddy says she’s his good friend. She even told me to call her my new mommy.” Teddy clamped his hand over his mouth. “Oops! Daddy said that was our secret game. I wasn’t supposed to tell you!” I swept him into my arms, burying my face in his hair to hide the trembling that had seized my body. “It’s okay, baby. You can tell Mommy. What does Auntie Cora look like?” “She’s really pretty! She has long, curly hair. She said I’m way cuter than Daddy…” Teddy spilled a torrent of crucial details, including the specifics of every single one of their outings. He finally tired himself out and drifted off to sleep in my arms. I gently laid him back in his bed and stood in the doorway of his room, my hands clenched into tight fists. I knew who “Auntie Cora” was. Fifteen years ago, on our university campus, Ethan had pointed to a girl in a white dress. “That’s Cora Lynn,” he’d said, his voice bitter. “My first love. Dumped me for some rich kid. I swear, I’m going to make her regret that decision.” And now, she was back. I wiped my tears. Suddenly, everything was crystal clear. She was back to be a thief. To waltz in and harvest the fruits of my labor without lifting a finger. But I would not let her win. 03 A few nights later, I stared at my laptop, my fingers trembling slightly on the trackpad. On the screen was the backend of the company’s financial system. Ethan’s corporate expenses were laid out in stark detail. For the past three months, he’d spent a fortune at designer boutiques. I had never seen any of these items, nor had he mentioned gifting them to any clients. “What are you looking at?” Ethan’s voice boomed from behind me. I instantly switched screens. As I spun around, I bumped into him, knocking the coffee mug from his hand. Brown liquid spread across the white tile. “The monthly financial report,” I said, grabbing a paper towel and kneeling to clean the mess. “You’re home earlier than I expected.” “Meeting was canceled.” He tossed his suit jacket aside. That same dark blue shirt, still stained with her scent, was on him again. “Where’s Teddy?” “The sitter took him to his art class.” I stared at the shirt, then reached out. “I haven’t seen this brand before. Is it new?” Ethan’s expression flickered. Just for a second. He quickly recovered, grabbing my hand and pulling it away. “Just something I picked up.” I recoiled. The perfume on the shirt was overpowering. “You changed your cologne recently? If I’m not mistaken, that’s a woman’s fragrance.” “Vivian!” His voice sharpened. “What’s gotten into you lately? You’re so paranoid!” “Last Friday, you said you were with a client until two in the morning.” I pulled up a screenshot of his credit card statement on my phone. “So why was there a charge at a perfume counter at midnight? What kind of client needs you to buy them cosmetics in the middle of the night?” Ethan’s face flushed a deep red, the veins in his neck bulging. “Are you spying on me?” “Do you have something to hide? Something you’re so afraid I’ll find?” I shot back with a cold laugh. He lunged, snatching the phone from my hand. “I was buying it for a client! When did you become so irrational?” “For a client?” I turned, pulled an envelope from a drawer, and threw it at his chest. “Was this ‘for a client,’ too?” Photos spilled from the envelope, scattering across the floor. Every single one was of him and a long-haired woman, shopping at high-end boutiques, dining at fancy restaurants. It had taken my private investigator three days and less money than I expected to get them. Ethan stood frozen, unable to speak. “Who is she?” My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Let me explain…” He finally found his voice. “That’s Cora. We’ve been working on a project together…” “Cora?” I grabbed a picture frame from the desk and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattered over our wedding photo. “Your gold-digging first love? The one who dumped you for a trust-fund baby fifteen years ago?” At that, Ethan exploded. “Shut up! You have no right to talk about her like that!” “Teddy told me everything!” I screamed. “How his ‘new mommy’ buys him gifts! How you take them out to play! You’re letting my son call that whore ‘mommy’?” “You watch your mouth!” He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. “Cora’s having a hard time. Her husband is abusive. She just needs a friend to comfort her…” “Comfort her? Is that what you call it? Screwing her in a hotel room?” My control finally snapped. I threw the last stack of evidence at him. Hotel receipts. Check-in records. All from the past month. Faced with undeniable proof, Ethan finally dropped the act. His face was a mask of pure fury. I searched it for any sign of guilt, of remorse. There was none. I wrenched my arm free and ran to the study, pulling a dusty box from the top of a bookshelf. Inside, tied with a ribbon, were our college love letters. On top of the pile was a faded photo of Ethan and Cora on campus. “Ten years!” I flung the photo in his face. “You kept this garbage for ten years! And what about me? I lived with you in a basement apartment, eating instant noodles while I helped you write business plans! When the company was about to go under, I was the one begging my family for money to keep you afloat! And now that you’ve made it, you go crawling back to the bitch who threw you away because you were poor?” Ethan’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. “That’s right! I never forgot her! Cora is never hysterical like you! She knows how to make a man happy, instead of acting like a bitter shrew all day!” Crack! The sharp sound of my palm connecting with his cheek echoed in the room. I always believe in settling debts on the spot. But I had miscalculated. Ethan touched his cheek, a dangerous light I had never seen before flashing in his eyes. He lunged, shoving me down onto the sofa, his knee pinning the fabric of my dress. “Listen to me,” he whispered, his hot breath on my neck. “The company is valued at over a hundred million. You’ll get nothing in a divorce. For Teddy’s sake, you’ll learn to look the other way.” I couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t even pretending anymore. After everything, he was casting me aside and using our son to threaten me. He had his success, and now he was going back to the woman he “truly” loved. What did my years of sacrifice mean? I struggled, but he was too strong. Just as panic began to set in, the doorbell rang.

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For a mandatory company retreat, I took the day off to be with my husband for his surgery. When I came back, my manager fined me five thousand dollars in front of the entire office. “Company policy is crystal clear: group morale takes precedence over everything!” she declared. “Kate, as a department head, you led the charge in defying company rules. Your penalty is doubled!” The next day, I saw her new assistant, a fresh college grad, sporting a brand-new five-thousand-dollar watch. And just like that, it all clicked. So that’s how we’re playing it. Fine. I’m done. 1 The news that I’d been fined five thousand dollars for skipping the company retreat spread through the office like wildfire. In the breakroom, my old rival, Jenna, gave me a look dripping with pity. “Honestly, Kate, you should’ve just played along. You have to request time off in advance, you know.” “I submitted the request a week ago,” I countered, pouring myself a coffee. “She sat on it. She never intended to approve it.” Jenna looked shocked. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Her niece just got back from overseas, graduated from some fancy university. Rumor is, she’s looking to ‘get some experience’ here.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t about “making an example” of me. It was about creating an excuse to push me out and bring in her own family. I got the message. I’d move aside for her. But when I got back to my desk, her new assistant, a young man named Sam, was waiting for me. He tapped on my desk with a smug look. “Kate, you’re moving. Out to the main floor.” I glanced at the open-plan workspace. The design department was all cubicles. As the department head, I had a private office—essential for confidential client meetings. Being forced to move out there wasn’t just a relocation; it was a demotion. “Sam, you can’t just move me without a formal notice,” I said, keeping my voice even. “A notice? Sure, here’s your notice,” he sneered. “You’re demoted. You’re a junior designer now. Got it?” As if on cue, my manager, Diana, stepped out of her office. Seeing me still in mine, she frowned. “What’s going on? Kate, why haven’t you moved yet?” “Sam here tells me I’ve been demoted,” I said calmly. “All because I missed the retreat?” “That’s right,” Diana confirmed, her voice sharp. “I’ve already informed the CEO. You’ve shown a complete lack of team spirit, actively working against company culture. We’re putting you on probation.” “If you don’t like it,” she added with a smirk, “you can file a complaint.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine. Then I’ll require a formal, written notice of this change. Otherwise, I’m not moving.” Diana pointed a trembling finger at me. “You just wait, Kate! Sam, get that notice out to her now!” “She wants to play hardball? We won’t indulge her.” Less than two minutes later, Sam posted a formal document in the company-wide group chat, officially demoting me. I saved a copy and began packing my things. Immediately after, Sam added a new member to the chat. “Everyone, please welcome our new Head of Design, a top graduate from an Ivy League school. She’ll be leading the department from today. Let’s give her a warm welcome!” My team looked at me, confused. I said nothing, just pulled out my phone and started a game. A few people slowly posted celebratory emojis in the chat, welcoming the newcomer. The message was clear. I had been replaced. My team was furious on my behalf. “Kate, they can’t just kick you out like that! It’s not right,” one of my designers whispered. “Yeah, and we just submitted the new design proposal. What are we supposed to tell the client when they ask for you?” another added. I shrugged. “The company has its reasons. We just follow orders.” My calm response left them baffled. But I knew what was happening. They were using my work, my success, to prop up their new hire. But they had made one critical mistake. They had acted too soon. Half an hour later, Diana’s niece, a young woman named Chloe, arrived. New boss, new rules. And her first order of business was to target me. “This department has thirty designers,” she announced, her voice full of unearned authority. “Some of you are not pulling your weight, just collecting a paycheck. That ends today.” “From now on, each designer will submit one new design every day. If you can’t finish, you work overtime. If you can’t handle it, the door is open.” Then, she pointed at me. “You! Kate, right? I’ve heard about you. I don’t care what you’ve achieved in the past. From now on, you follow the rules. Understood?” She looked at me, her face a mask of arrogance. I nodded, my voice flat. “Understood.” 2 My compliance only seemed to fuel Chloe’s ego. She added two more rules: a strict attendance policy and a mandatory client feedback log. The team groaned in protest. Client meetings often ran late, or were in different cities, making it impossible to clock in and out on time. But Diana quickly shut them down. “Rules are rules,” she snapped. “We just had to fine someone five thousand dollars. Have you all forgotten already?” “Let me be clear,” she continued, “we brought Chloe in to whip this department into shape!” The room fell silent. I didn’t say a word. Clock in? Fine. Submit a design every day? No problem. I wasn’t worried. In a week, maybe even five days, they would regret this. That day, Chloe settled into my old office, barking orders. I, on the other hand, worked calmly. I used an AI generator to create a design, submitted it, clocked out, and left on the dot. Jenna caught me on my way out. “The workaholic is leaving on time? What’s going on?” “Just following the new company policy,” I said with a wave. Jenna had always been after my job. Now, not only was she not promoted, but she was stuck with a new, overbearing boss. Seeing me leave, she shut down her computer and left too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left work at a reasonable hour. It was always endless revisions, late-night client calls, only to end up using the first draft after all. This was a new, and not unwelcome, feeling. On my way home, I picked up groceries. My husband was surprised to see me home so early. When I told him I’d been demoted, he was worried. “Is it because of me?” “It has nothing to do with you,” I reassured him. “Honestly, the company needed a shake-up. Why should the Gen Z kids have all the fun?” He seemed relieved. That evening, for the first time in ages, I relaxed. I set up the projector and watched a movie, even posted about it online. Jenna commented: “Look at you, living the life!” I replied with a smiley face. A moment later, the company group chat blew up. Diana was subtweeting me. “Some people just know how to relax. I wonder if their work is done. I wonder if they’re earning enough to afford such a lifestyle!” I laughed at her petty jab and tagged her in the chat. “Diana, it’s important to have a work-life balance. I’m all for enjoying life when I can, but I’ve never slacked off on my work.” Then, I posted all my recent project reports and proposals in the chat. The senior executives were in that group too. I had nothing to hide. A second later, Diana sent me a private message, demanding I delete the posts. I ignored her and muted the chat. The next morning, I was summoned to her office. “Let’s cut to the chase, Kate,” she said. “You need to hand over your projects. And pay the fine.” “The handover is no problem,” I replied. “But I don’t have the money for the fine. You can deduct it from my salary.” “My husband’s surgery was expensive. I’m broke.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t play games with me, Kate.” “I’m not. I requested the time off a week in advance. I told you three months ago that my husband was having surgery and that money was tight. That’s why I took on those extra high-profile clients, which you approved.” “I desperately need the money,” I continued. “I don’t have five thousand dollars to spare right now. But my commission and bonus this month should cover it. Just take it from there.” 3 Her brow furrowed. I just looked at her, my expression unreadable. “I don’t have the money. It’s up to you.” I turned and walked out. She followed me, her face livid. “Kate, don’t think you can get away with this just because you’ve been here a while!” The whole office was staring. I turned back to her. “I’m not trying to get away with anything, Diana. I’m following company policy. Go ahead and deduct it.” She thought I was bluffing. She immediately had finance alter my paycheck, deducting the entire five thousand from my commission, leaving me with only my base salary. I remained unfazed. I came to work on time, left on time, and submitted my AI-generated designs every day. They couldn’t find a single thing to fault me for. Until Mr. Harrison from Apex Corp came in. I had handled the initial design phase for their project. Now that the project was handed over, Chloe was in charge. Apex was our biggest client. We’d worked with them for three years without a single issue. This new project alone was worth ten million dollars. That morning, Diana and Chloe were a bundle of nerves, waiting by the entrance. I strolled in right on time, earning a glare from Diana. I just slipped into the breakroom for breakfast. When Mr. Harrison arrived, he was ushered into the conference room with great fanfare. That’s when Sam came over to my desk. “Kate, take these blueprints to the new development in Green Valley.” Green Valley was on the west side of the city. We were on the east. A four-hour round trip. “Isn’t there a digital copy?” I asked. “The client wants a hard copy. Now go, don’t waste time.” Fine. I’ll go. The moment I arrived in Green Valley, Diana called. “Kate, where are you? Get back here now!” “Diana, Sam sent me to deliver blueprints. I just got here. What’s up?” “Send me the design concept and creative brief for the Apex project!” I smiled. “It’s all in the handover files. Sorry, have to meet the client now!” I hung up. A moment later, Chloe called. “Kate, stop playing games. Those are company files, you can’t take them with you! If this project falls through, you’ll be held responsible!” I didn’t even bother to answer. I just blocked her number. Jenna messaged me. Apparently, Mr. Harrison had noticed right away that I wasn’t in the meeting. He asked Chloe a few simple questions about the project, and she couldn’t answer any of them. He was not pleased. Finally, he asked about the patent for the smart home technology integrated into the design. Diana and Chloe had no idea what he was talking about. Now, he was demanding to see the patent certificate, and they were scrambling. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Jenna typed. “You set them up!” “No wonder you’ve been so relaxed these past few days! You were waiting for this!” Without that patent, the design was useless. A ten-million-dollar project, down the drain. And when the higher-ups found out, Diana and Chloe would be in deep trouble. I could hear Jenna’s gleeful laughter through the phone. Then, Chloe’s voice. “Is that Kate? Give me the phone!” “Kate, get back here now! What’s this about a patent?” “Sorry, Chloe, I can’t help you. That project isn’t my responsibility anymore.” “You’ll have to find someone else.” She was getting desperate. “Kate, I know you’re upset. Just come back, and we can talk about this.” Diana’s voice came on the line. “Just come back, Kate. At least help us get through this meeting.” I refused. “I can’t do that. This is Chloe’s first big client meeting. I wouldn’t want to overstep.” I could hear her screaming on the other end. “Don’t get cocky, Kate! We don’t need you!” I laughed. “Let me be honest with you. Give me three hours, and I’ll have you on your knees, begging me. Want to bet?” 4 I hung up, put my phone on silent, and after delivering the blueprints, I spent the rest of the morning chatting with the client in Green Valley. He invited me to take a walk on the nearby mountain trails. The signal was spotty up there, but I couldn’t refuse a client. Back at the office, things had descended into chaos. Mr. Harrison had canceled the contract and returned the designs. Without the patent, they were worthless. He was furious that they knew nothing about the project’s core concept, a concept I had yet to fully reveal. I had planned to present the final, perfected version to him in person. But of course, they had pushed me out. Not only did they not have the patent, but they couldn’t even execute the design. Mr. Harrison was livid. “If you can’t produce the patent, we’re done,” he had declared. “There are plenty of other design firms in this country.” He had walked out, ignoring Diana’s desperate pleas. With me still gone, Diana had turned on Chloe. “You’re from an Ivy League school, right? Call your fancy friends, figure this patent thing out!” “Kate is a nobody, and she impressed him. You should be able to do better.” Chloe, spurred on, started making frantic calls. Jenna just watched, a smirk on her face. Diana noticed. “What are you smiling at? Go find a solution!” Jenna threw her hands up. “I can’t help you. That was all Kate. If I had her connections, I’d be the one in charge.” The comment hit its mark. Diana flew into a rage, throwing things around her office. When a colleague relayed the story to me later, I just laughed. It wasn’t my problem. They had brought this on themselves. A company retreat wasn’t a big deal. But they had made it one. Besides, who wants to spend their free time on forced fun? Not me. Even if my husband hadn’t been sick, I wouldn’t have gone. As for the patent, it was for a smart home system I had developed myself. It was a personal project, something I’d worked on for three years. Mr. Harrison had loved the idea. And now, they had cut me out of my own creation. The client in Green Valley and I had a wonderful afternoon. We picked wild mushrooms and ate a delicious free-range chicken stew. I told him about my situation at work. He just smiled. “Don’t worry, Kate. You’re destined for bigger things. You won’t be unemployed for long.” “In fact,” he continued, “I’m planning to develop this mountain into a resort. The scenery, the ecosystem… it’s perfect. I’ll need a good designer to plan it out.” I accepted on the spot. 5 If the resort was built, it would be the perfect place to bring my husband to relax and breathe the fresh air. After reaching a preliminary agreement with the client, I drove back to the city. I didn’t go to the office. Instead, I went to the hospital, got a doctor’s note, and submitted a request for sick leave through the company’s online portal. Diana was furious. She called me immediately. “Kate, you’re doing this on purpose! The whole company is scrambling, and you’re taking sick leave?” “Don’t push your luck!” I laughed. “Diana, you’re overreacting. I’m not that important. I’m just exhausted. I’ve been taking care of my husband through his surgery, and now I need to rest. I’m not a machine.” “If you don’t approve it, I’m taking the time off anyway. Just mark me as absent.” She hung up, but eventually approved the request. She sent me a text: “Don’t think the company can’t function without you. The world would keep spinning even if you disappeared.”

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Three years after being cast out of the Hawke family, Eleanor Hawke walked into my shop for a pair of custom shoes. As it happened, I was the one assigned to her. I knelt reflexively, ready to help her with her shoes, but she stopped me, her hand on my arm. “Julian,” she said, her voice laced with surprise. “What are you doing working a job like this?” It seemed she never imagined that her once-pampered heir would now be serving others with such practiced humility. I used her grip to help myself up, and in the same smooth motion, talked her into putting $200,000 on a store card. She did it without hesitation. As she was leaving, she asked, a little too carefully, “Julian, do you still hate me?” I gave her a perfect, professional smile and saw her out the door. The moment she was gone, I asked my manager for a transfer to another branch. I didn’t hate her anymore. But I never wanted anything to do with the Hawke family again. 1 It was pouring rain when I got off work. Eleanor’s Maybach was parked by the curb, its hazard lights blinking. She rolled down the window and called out to me. “Julian, let me give you a ride home.” I glanced at the rideshare app on my phone. The wait was endless. I wisely accepted her offer. Life has taught me one crucial lesson: never pass up an opportunity for comfort. Otherwise, your entire existence becomes a trial. The driver was still Arthur. He grinned when he saw me. “Young Master Julian, you look different.” “More grounded,” he continued. “A bit like your father.” “Arthur, just drive,” Eleanor said sharply from the back. My father’s death was a wound that never healed for any of us. The slightest mention was enough to make it ache. A soft classical piece began to play through the car’s speakers. Eleanor had looked like she wanted to say something, but the mention of my father had silenced her. She leaned back against the leather, her expression weary and dark. I took a pause in the music to speak. “Arthur, you can just call me Julian. I haven’t been the ‘Young Master’ of the Hawke family for a long time.” Arthur just kept smiling, unfazed by Eleanor’s mood. “It’s just a title, son. A habit of many years.” 2 Hearing Arthur’s warm, steady voice, I couldn’t help but smile. When I was fourteen, at the peak of my rebellious phase, Eleanor brought home a boy she was sponsoring. His name was originally Caleb, but after learning he was an orphan, Eleanor had him take our name. She thought his given name was common, so she renamed him Caleb Hawke. I was Julian Hawke, he was Caleb Hawke. But everyone always said how polite and thoughtful Caleb was, how it was no wonder Eleanor doted on him. As for me, I was arrogant and spoiled, not nearly as composed as the boy from the mountains. A rebellious teenager has his pride. I wouldn’t let him outshine me. I berated every gossiping servant in the house until I was exhausted. I sat down to catch my breath, only to see Eleanor standing around the corner, her eyes filled with disgust. And next to her stood Caleb, dressed in the latest designer clothes, looking smug. I knew it was his doing. Ever since he arrived, everything I did was twisted to make me look like a bully. I had been friendly to him at first, but he would always act hesitant and wounded. Within days, rumors were flying that the Hawke heir looked down on commoners. I swore to Eleanor, argued, collapsed into her arms in a desperate hug, and pleaded, “Mom, why don’t you believe me?” She just sighed. “Julian, when will you ever grow up?” She always thought I was a lost cause. She seemed to forget that she once promised, “No matter what Julian does, Mommy will always have your back.” I wanted to rip the mask off Caleb’s face and show her the ugliness underneath. But what I said was, “What gives you the right to wear something like that?” The clothes were from a new collection. He couldn’t have worn them without her permission. Her favoritism had been there all along. I was just too stupid to see it, too desperate to win a game that was already lost. The day after that, Caleb’s name was legally changed. He became the sole heir of the Hawke family. And I became a complete joke. 3 Only two people ever stood by my side: my father and Arthur. My father was always busy with work and carried a deep guilt towards my mother. Even when he knew I was being wronged, his only solution was to give me more money. This only made Eleanor despise me more, believing I was a greedy manipulator. Arthur was originally my father’s driver. After hearing that Caleb was being “bullied,” Eleanor assigned Arthur to drive him, a clear message that the entire household stood behind Caleb. But no matter how Caleb tried to win him over, Arthur remained unmoved, never saying more than was necessary. With me, however, he was different. “Young Master,” he’d say, “it’s getting cold. Make sure you wear a coat.” When he saw me withdrawn and miserable, he’d try to comfort me. “She’s your mother, son. Deep down, she still loves you.” Did she? I had stopped believing that a long time ago. But I was still grateful for his kindness. A dark cloud of scorn hung over me, and Arthur was the only one who ever tried to let a little light through. The car slowed. I knew we were close to my place. “Arthur, you can just stop here. The alley ahead is a nightmare to get in and out of.” Eleanor seemed to wake from a trance, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the run-down neighborhood. “Julian… you live here?” I just smiled and gave a polite farewell. “Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Hawke. I won’t take up any more of your time.” Pain flickered in her eyes. “Do you have to speak to me like that?” I simply bowed my head. Then I opened my umbrella and walked alone into the heavy curtain of rain. 4 When I got home, I saw a new friend request on my phone. The name was simply “[Mom]”. My manager had told me Mrs. Hawke had specifically asked for my contact information. She’d praised my service and added two million dollars to her store card. “Keep this client happy, Julian,” he’d said, “and you’ll be our top salesman for the year.” I hesitated, but the thought of Leo’s medical bills made me accept. “Thank you for your support, Mrs. Hawke 🙂 :)” I typed. The status indicator showed she was typing for a long time. I waited, wondering what she could possibly be writing. Eventually, I gave up and went to take a shower. When I came back, I saw a string of retracted messages. Only one remained. “Your father’s memorial is the day after tomorrow. Will you come?” The message triggered a night of relentless nightmares, replaying the events that had destroyed my life. Caleb had been suddenly diagnosed with leukemia. He needed a bone marrow transplant, and I was the only match. But my own health was poor at the time, and I was undergoing treatment. I refused. I was ready to give up everything, to leave the Hawke family and never look back. The night before I was set to leave, Eleanor sat me down for a talk. She reminisced about my childhood. How I was a messy little boy, and she had dreamed of raising a perfect prince. How for her birthday, I had dressed up in a flamboyant suit to make her happy, only to be scolded for being too ostentatious. How I’d cried in the middle of the night, telling her, “I just wanted to make you happy, Mommy.” How in elementary school, I’d overheard other parents mocking her for being a bad mother because of my poor grades, and I’d studied relentlessly to get a perfect score, losing so much weight in the process that my chin was sharp against her shoulder. “It hurts my shoulder,” she’d said, “but it hurts my heart more.” She looked at me with a misty, nostalgic gaze. “Julian, do you still love your mother like you did when you were a little boy?” “Of course,” I’d answered. “But Mom… do you still love me?” “…Of course.” If only I had seen the flicker of evasion in her eyes through the dim light. If only I hadn’t taken that glass of water she’d drugged. I collapsed into her arms. I remember her soft fingers on my cheek, gently wiping away a tear. But when I woke up, it was to an ice-cold reality. My own mother had drugged me so they could take my bone marrow for Caleb. The procedure left me bedridden and weak for months. 5 Lying alone in that sterile hospital room, I had only one thought: revenge. To hell with her. From that day on, she was no longer my mother. She was just… that woman. I stormed back to the Hawke estate, weak and shivering in a thin hospital gown. They were celebrating Caleb’s birthday. I took a baseball bat and demolished the entire ground floor of the mansion. If security hadn’t stopped me, I would have caved their heads in. I screamed until my throat was raw, the rage in my eyes making that woman shrink back in fear, right into Caleb’s waiting arms. Their solution was to have me committed to a psychiatric hospital. If my father hadn’t returned when he did, I would have ended up either a mindless vegetable or a corpse. He returned with the truth. The leukemia, the transplant—it was all a lie, a scheme cooked up by Caleb. His real target was my fiancée. My engagement to Isabella Vance had been arranged since we were children. The Vance family’s new energy enterprise had made them far more powerful than the Hawkes. No matter how hard that woman tried to push Caleb into high society, she could never find him a better match. So, Caleb had been secretly corresponding with Isabella for months. And I had worked tirelessly to earn the approval of Isabella’s parents, finally securing my place in their family. 6 Now, with the truth revealed, that woman just held Caleb and wept. “In that case,” she declared, “Caleb should marry Isabella.” “What else can we do? We can’t lose our connection to the Vance family.” “As for Julian…” She glanced at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before looking away. “You can have the villa in Northwood. You can move there today.” I had grown up in Southwood. She was banishing me to the other side of the city. I didn’t want to stay in that house a moment longer, but I would not let them get away with this so easily. My father flew into a rage, but she just sobbed. “What was I supposed to do? I finally have a son who loves me. Are you asking me to lose him too? It’s because you were never here! I had to raise him alone!” “If I can only have one son,” she screamed, “it will be Caleb! If you make him leave, I’ll go with him.” In the end, my father gave in. The day I left, he said, “Wait for your mother to come to her senses. Don’t hate her.” He didn’t understand. I hated him too. For his weakness. I left without saying goodbye. I became a snake, coiled in the darkness, waiting. I watched as Caleb and Isabella got married. I watched that woman beam with joy at the wedding. I heard that Isabella had bought Caleb a yacht, and they threw extravagant parties. The media called Caleb a golden boy, the savior of the Hawke-Vance alliance. One day, my father called me. “Isabella is pregnant. The morning sickness is hitting her hard.” Then, after a pause, “Julian, it’s been a while. Are you feeling better?” I heard myself answer, my voice wooden. “No. The doctors say the damage is permanent.” Everything after that happened in slow motion. I drove to the hospital. I saw that woman helping Isabella out of a car, laughing and chatting. I saw my father and Caleb walking side-by-side, a perfect picture of father and son. I pressed my foot on the accelerator. Faster. Faster. I was going to kill him at the peak of his happiness. I was innocent. Why did he deserve a life of joy? Their faces turned to masks of horror. My father shoved Caleb out of the way. He hit the windshield, blood blooming across the spiderweb of cracks before he fell away. I slammed on the brakes, my chest colliding with the steering wheel, a tearing pain ripping through me. The car door was wrenched open. I was dragged out. That woman beat me over the head with her handbag. Something sharp cut my face. A flurry of slaps. The police came. They took me away. My father’s last words were: “Don’t blame Julian.” But that woman and the Vance family hired the best lawyers. They pushed for the maximum sentence. The day I was sent to prison, they told me Isabella had lost the baby due to the shock. I smiled. “You monster,” they screamed. “How can you still smile?”

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