My decade with Ethan ended under a sky choked with snow. He stood in the center of the campus green, his friends cheering behind him, and in his arms, he held the girl who, according to legend, was his destiny. And I, his girlfriend of three years, stood at the edge of the crowd, a complete and utter joke. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [Congratulations, Host. Mission ‘Unite the Protagonists’ is complete. Do you wish to return to your original world?] I watched the two of them kissing in the snow and smiled, a thin, brittle thing. I had no one left in my original world. Here, even though I had just lost the love of my life, I had parents who adored me and a youth I had lived for ten years. I told the System, “I choose to stay.” [Wish protocol initiated. Please state your wish.] I closed my eyes, letting the snowflakes land on my face, their icy touch numbing me to the core. “My wish,” I said, forcing each word out with all the strength I had, “is to forget Ethan. Completely.” … Our school had an unwritten rule, a romantic legend. The first snowfall of winter was Confession Day. Any couple who confessed their love on this day was said to be blessed, destined for a lifetime together. I had imagined this moment a thousand times. Ethan, holding my hand, telling me in front of everyone that he would love me forever. After all, we were childhood sweethearts. Everyone said we were perfect for each other. From the moment I arrived in this world ten years ago, the first person my age I saw was him. We grew up together. He watched me transform from a little girl with pigtails into the young woman I was today. In our first year of high school, on a snowy day just like this one, he had wrapped his arms around me to shield me from the cold, his voice filled with a boyish mix of confidence and nerves. “Maya, will you be my girlfriend?” Everyone thought we would be the couple of the legend. Until Sophia showed up. She was like a character straight out of a campus romance novel: poor but resilient, kind, with a stubborn streak she didn’t even know she had. The day she transferred to our school, she ran right into Ethan, knocking the basketball from his hands and stumbling straight into his world. From that day on, everything spiraled out of control. He would drive all over town to buy her favorite snack just because she’d mentioned it offhandedly. He’d give her his jacket when she was caught in the rain, completely ignoring me shivering right beside him. He would leave in the middle of our dates because she called, needing his help with something trivial. My best friend, Sadie, had yelled at me more than once. “Maya, are you blind? That girl, Sophia, has him completely bewitched, and you’re just standing here, lying to yourself!” I would just smile. Because I knew. It was the power of the plot. I was a transmigrator. Ten years ago, I was a sick little girl lying in an orphanage hospital bed. When I woke up, I was here, in this novel, as the childhood sweetheart of the male protagonist, Ethan—the classic, cliché villainess. My mission was to use my supposed arrogance and irrationality to highlight the female protagonist Sophia’s kindness and virtue, ultimately serving as a stepping stone for their great love story. The System told me that if I completed my mission, I could return to my own world and have one wish granted. My original wish was to be a multi-millionaire. But ten years is a long time. Long enough to forget who I was. Long enough to gain parents who loved me. Long enough to… truly fall in love with Ethan. I naively believed that a decade of shared history could defy a pre-written plot. Until today. The first snow arrived, right on schedule. Ethan texted me, asking me to meet him on the green, saying he had something important to tell me. Clinging to one last sliver of hope, I dressed carefully, wrapping the white scarf he’d given me around my neck, and arrived half an hour early. But it wasn’t him I was waiting for. It was a grand, public confession, meticulously prepared for another girl. Ethan’s friends had arranged candles in the shape of a giant heart. A romantic ballad drifted from a portable speaker. And Ethan, the boy who had whispered countless promises to me, was now looking at Sophia with an ocean of devotion in his eyes. “Sophia,” his voice, amplified by a microphone, carried to every corner of the field, “I don’t know when it started, but my eyes just started following you everywhere. When you smile, my world is sunny. When you cry, it rains. I know this makes me a bastard, and I know I’m hurting Maya, but I can’t control my heart.” A wave of good-natured laughter and cheering rippled through the crowd. “I’m in love with you. Will you be my girlfriend?” Sophia covered her mouth, her eyes welling with tears as she nodded emphatically. The cheers were deafening, loud enough to shake the stars from the night sky. They kissed in the falling snow, a fairytale prince and princess. I stood outside the circle, feeling the blood freeze in my veins. The same guys who used to joke around and call me Ethan’s “better half” were now roaring with applause for his new romance. No one saw me. Or maybe they did, and they pretended not to. In a perfect love story, after all, I was just an insignificant side character, destined to be sacrificed. My phone buzzed. A text from Ethan. It was short, simple, and colder than the ice forming on my heart. [Maya, I’m sorry. We’re over.] I stared at the words until my vision blurred. I didn’t cry. I just felt cold, a deep, bone-aching chill. I calmly deleted the message and dialed his number. He picked up almost immediately, his voice barely audible over the celebratory noise. “Maya?” A flicker of impatience and guilt. “Ethan,” I said, my voice unnervingly steady, “we’re breaking up.” I hung up before he could reply and blocked his number from everything. Then, in the quiet of my mind, I spoke to the System that had been dormant for so long. The moment I made my choice, it felt like a mountain had been lifted from my shoulders. A virtual panel materialized in my mind’s eye, presenting two options. [A: Return to Original World] [B: Remain in Current World] Without hesitation, I chose B. The System was silent for a moment, as if surprised. [Host, please confirm. Returning to your original world will allow you to forget everything here and start anew.] I smiled, but a tear I couldn’t stop slid down my cheek. I couldn’t start anew. Before I came here and knew the love of parents and the warmth of friendship, my reality had been nothing but the cold, sterile walls of a hospital and the sharp smell of antiseptic. “I confirm,” I whispered. “I’m staying here.” At least here, I knew what warmth felt like. The virtual panel shifted, displaying an input box. [Wish protocol initiated. Please enter your wish.] With fingers numb from the cold, I traced the letters in the air. “I. Want. To. Forget. Ethan.” As I finished the last letter, I felt completely drained, as if every ounce of my strength had been siphoned away. [Wish confirmed. The System will now erase all memories pertaining to Ethan. Warning: The erasure process will be accompanied by a strong external physical impact. Please prepare, Host.] [Countdown initiating. 10, 9, 8…] I took a deep breath and turned away from the suffocating scene. I couldn’t bear to look at the happy couple, couldn’t bear to hear another cheer. I needed to go home. Home, where there was hot soup and a warm light waiting for me. I walked, step by step, as the snow began to accumulate on my hair and shoulders. A decade of memories flashed through my mind like a movie reel. The first time I met Ethan, he was a cocky little kid who pulled my pigtails and called me a tag-along. We climbed trees to find birds’ nests, counted stars in his backyard on summer nights, and shared popsicles. The first time he got into a fight for me, his face was a mess of scrapes, but he grinned like an idiot. “Don’t worry, Maya,” he’d said, “I’ll always protect you.” I remembered him giving me piggyback rides on the long walk home, the evening breeze cool against my skin, his back so broad and warm. And that day in the snow, just like this one, when he’d blushed and told me, “Maya, I think I’m falling for you.” He said we’d go to the same college. We’d get married after graduation and have a daughter who was just as cute as me. He said he would love me forever. Those memories, once so sweet, were now daggers twisting in my heart. So this was it. Ten years of friendship and three years of love, all worthless against the so-called “destiny” of a single glance from her. How utterly pathetic. [3, 2, 1…] The moment the countdown finished, I reached the edge of the road. A pair of blinding headlights flared, followed by the screech of tires. I didn’t even have time to react. My body was thrown into the air like a broken kite. In the final second before my world went dark, I thought I heard the System’s last words. [Memory wipe commencing… I wish you a bright future, Maya.] Goodbye, Ethan.

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1 Just as I was leaving with the last of my antidepressants, the final prescription of a long and grueling treatment, I ran into my biological parents. They were at the hospital to give a lecture. Five years. We hadn’t seen each other in five years, yet he recognized me in an instant. His voice was laced with disbelief. “Your… condition. It’s still not better?” I said nothing, just kept walking toward my ward. “How did you let yourself become like this?” my father asked, his voice thick with a pain that felt a decade too late. His eyes were already turning red. “Elara, your mother and sister miss you terribly. Come home with me.” His words stopped me in my tracks. I slowly pulled up the sleeve of my shirt, the long sleeve I wore year-round, regardless of the heat. “That’s their home,” I said, my voice flat. “I have nothing to do with you anymore.” Hundreds of scars, deep and jagged, crisscrossed the pale skin of my arms. A roadmap of my pain, etched from wrist to elbow. Countless nights in the ER, countless battles fought in the dark had long ago eroded any love or hate I had left for them. Now, finally, I was on the verge of breaking free from the illness that had defined me. I had a new family. All I wanted was to live the rest of my life in peace. … My father abandoned the flock of stunned medical interns and hurried after me. “The psychiatric hospital said you vanished after being rushed to the ER for emergency surgery. Elara, where have you been all these years?” His voice was a strained whisper. “They said you stabbed yourself in the abdomen. Why would you do that? Why would you hurt yourself so badly?” His eyes were bloodshot as he reached for my arm. The moment his fingers brushed against the strange, uneven texture of my skin, he recoiled as if he’d been shocked. His questions stirred nothing in me. Not a ripple. I just quickened my pace, desperate to put space between us. “This is a public place,” I said, my tone as calm as if I were addressing a stranger. “If you don’t want anyone to connect a ‘crazy person’ like me with the world-renowned Dr. Ashford, I suggest you stop following me.” Perhaps he was too used to the world’s admiration. My coldness seemed to stun him into silence. “Elara,” he finally managed, his voice cracking, “are you still angry with us…?” As a child, I was his shadow. Ten minutes without him and I’d burst into tears. After my depression hit, I became even more dependent, a prisoner in my own home, unwilling to see anyone. My parents were the only living things I could bear to be around. Just then, a few doctors spotted him and swarmed over, blocking my path. I was trapped. “Congratulations, Professor Ashford! Another prestigious award for you and your wife in the field of psychology. Truly pioneers!” “And we heard your daughter won yet another prize for one of her early paintings! You must be so proud to have such a genius in the family.” My father’s eyes darted toward me, a flash of guilt and embarrassment in his fleeting glance. He forced a weak smile. “Yes… she’s always been a hard worker,” he mumbled, trying to steer the conversation away. But they were oblivious. “Speaking of which, isn’t her wedding to the Sterling heir next month? Any chance we might get an invitation to the grand event?” A tremor went through me. The award. The fiancé. I glanced down at myself—a faded, pilled t-shirt and worn-out jeans that, if you got close enough, probably smelled faintly of the butcher shop. Those things had nothing to do with me anymore. They belonged to another world. I saw a gap in the crowd and made a break for it. “Elara!” My father pushed past the surprised doctors and chased after me. “I know you blame us, but we had no choice back then… Your sister doesn’t blame you anymore. Please, just come home,” he pleaded, his eyes swimming with a shallow guilt. My fingers traced the raised, mottled scars on my arm. Each one a souvenir from a trip to hell and back. ‘No choice.’ ‘Doesn’t blame me.’ What a fucking joke. I finally reached the ward door. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to expel the tightness in my chest. Slam. I stepped inside and threw the lock. My friend, a fellow warrior who had battled depression alongside me these past few years, was staring out the small window in the door, her jaw slack. “Oh my god, isn’t that Professor Ashford? Elara, since when do you know a celebrity doctor?” She hopped off her bed, ready to unlock the door. “Let him in! If you’d known him earlier, maybe you would’ve recovered years ago.” As she passed, I grabbed her hand, my knuckles turning white. “Don’t open it.” Her face filled with confusion. If I had never known them, I never would have been sick in the first place. She wouldn’t let it go, so for the first time, I told her my story. The Ashfords had two daughters, twin girls. Me, and my sister, Clara. But when we were ten, we were kidnapped. She was killed by her captors. From that day on, a severe depression took root in my soul. I locked myself in my room, terrified of the outside world, terrified of people. My only escape was painting. Only in my art could I dare to express the storm of emotions raging inside me. Having lost one daughter, my parents were desperate not to lose another. They made a radical decision, abandoning their promising careers in clinical medicine to specialize in psychology. To protect my fragile state, our house fell silent, as if someone had hit the mute button on our lives. They tiptoed around me, treating me like a dying animal, terrified of causing the slightest distress. Until the day they found a girl during one of our trips to my therapist. She was small and dirty, huddled into a ball. But her eyes, her face… she looked so much like my sister. My mother held her, her hands trembling. “Elara,” she whispered, “she looks… she looks like Clara. Can we… can we take her home?” Seeing the tears welling in my mother’s eyes, how could I say no? Once she was cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes, it was uncanny. It was like Clara had stepped right out of a photograph. A sob broke from my mother’s lips. She pulled the girl into a crushing embrace. “Clara is back! Mommy finally found you!” She named the girl Caroline. I stood in the doorway, watching them cling to each other, their tears mingling. From that day forward, all the love that could no longer be given to my dead sister was poured onto Caroline. The silence in our home was replaced by laughter. Their laughter. And I retreated further into my room, sealing myself off completely. Then one day, Caroline snuck into my studio and scribbled all over my latest painting. My breath hitched, ragged and fast. A scream tore from my throat as my body began to convulse. When my parents rushed in, they found me curled on the floor, unable to breathe. “Elara, don’t scare me! Caroline! Didn’t I tell you not to come in here? Why did you disobey me!” my mother shrieked, holding me tight. “Honey, get her medication! Quickly!” My father was about to bolt from the room. But Caroline, with wide, innocent eyes, tilted her head. “Does she really have depression? Because… I saw her pouring her pills down the toilet late at night.” She paused, then added another, more devastating blow. “Oh, and I heard her saying that as long as she pretends to be depressed, Mommy and Daddy will never blame her for getting her sister killed. What does that mean?” In an instant, the way my parents looked at me changed. The warmth vanished, replaced by an icy cold. The next thing I knew, my mother’s eyes were bloodshot with fury. She ripped through my studio like a hurricane. The paintings I had poured countless nights of pain and sorrow into were torn from the walls, ripped to shreds like garbage. I scrambled to save them, but my mother’s hand flew out, a sharp slap across my face that sent me stumbling back into a shattered canvas. Splinters of wood dug deep into my shoulder. “All these years,” she hissed, her voice a raw wound, “I have suppressed my own grief, terrified of losing another daughter. But it was you. You were the one who killed my Clara! You monster!” She collapsed, weeping. “Clara, my baby, I’m so sorry!” My father just stood there, his face a mask of profound disappointment. Blood was streaming down my arm, but I couldn’t feel it. My eyes were vacant as I fell to my knees, gathering the torn scraps of paper into my arms. In the doorway, my mother was clutching Caroline as if she’d found something she’d lost to death itself. “I knew it,” she sobbed. “I knew Clara came back to me. You even exposed Elara’s lies. Mommy will never lose you again. I will never let anyone hurt you, ever!” After Caroline’s “revelation,” my mother was convinced my depression was a lie. She began a cruel campaign to force me to admit I was “normal.” She dragged me from my room, ignoring my struggles and pleas. “Stop faking it! Caroline saw you sneaking out to play! Now you’re going to walk home on your own!” She shoved me into the middle of a bustling intersection. Every brush from a stranger sent a jolt of terror through me, making me scream. Horns blared. A car screeched to a halt inches from me. “Are you trying to get killed?! Go do it somewhere else!” the driver yelled, his face purple with rage. I was a tiny boat, sinking in a vast, merciless ocean, utterly alone. My depression spiraled. I stopped sleeping, spending my nights hidden under my covers, drawing and drawing until my fingers bled. Then, a world-renowned art competition was announced. It felt like a lifeline. If I won, I could get a full scholarship to study abroad for six years. I could finally escape. My friend beside me smacked her forehead, pulling me from the memory. “I remember that competition! Someone cheated, right? The internet went crazy. I think some people even found the cheater and… broke her hand!” I took a deep breath, my right hand still trembling slightly after all these years. “That person… was me.” “No way!” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The night before the competition, my mother did something she hadn’t done in years. She brought me a glass of warm milk. “Always making trouble for others,” she muttered, not looking at me as she closed my window against the wind. “You want milk, but you won’t even leave your room to get it.” She paused at the door. “Painting has been your dream since you were a little girl. Don’t embarrass me tomorrow.” For a fleeting moment, a pang of guilt hit me. She had no idea that the moment my dream came true would also be the moment I escaped her forever. The next day, the judges hailed me as a prodigy. Prestigious universities from the US and UK made on-the-spot offers. But as they were about to hand me the grand prize, my mother stormed the stage and snatched the trophy from my hands. “This painting isn’t by Elara Ashford! It was painted by my daughter, Caroline!” I froze. Every artist has a unique style. How could I have stolen someone else’s work? Just then, Caroline walked onto the stage, her eyes red and teary. “Sister, this competition was my dream. Why did you lock me in my room and steal my painting to enter?” she sobbed. “And didn’t you know? All of my paintings have a personal signature in the bottom right corner.” She pointed to the darkest patch of color on the canvas. My eyes followed her finger. There it was. A tiny, almost invisible “Caroline.” The world tilted on its axis. How? Then, a memory exploded in my mind. The glass of milk. After I drank it last night, I’d been so drowsy I could barely keep my eyes open. I’d thought it was just exhaustion from painting.

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1 At the company dinner, my girlfriend’s childhood sweetheart accused me of stealing his diamond watch. In front of everyone, he snatched my briefcase and dumped its contents onto the floor. When I demanded to see the security footage to clear my name, my girlfriend, Isabelle, just looked at me with contempt. “Leo, I know your mom’s medical bills are piling up, but that doesn’t give you the right to steal.” With that one sentence, my fate was sealed. Everyone was convinced I was a thief. I was ostracized by my colleagues and mocked by the man she truly loved. Eventually, I took my mother and disappeared without a word. But Isabelle, the high and mighty CEO who had never looked down, spent the next five years searching for me like a madwoman. … When I returned to the private dining room, everyone stared at me. I could feel their strange, accusing glances, but I was too preoccupied to care. “Ms. Meng,” I said to Isabelle, “something’s come up. I have to go. You all have fun.” The hospital had just called. My mom was feeling down after her chemo session, and they asked if I could come and sit with her. But Richard, Isabelle’s golden boy, stepped in my way. “In a hurry to sell off the goods, Leo?” I was completely lost. “Sell what off?” “Still playing dumb? You’re a thief. You stole my diamond watch.” My brow furrowed. “Richard, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal anything.” He shot me a look of pure disdain. “We all went out to watch the floor show. You were the only one who stayed behind in the room. If it wasn’t you, who else could it be?” I’d stayed behind because my mind was a thousand miles away, consumed with worry for my mother. A song and dance performance was the last thing I could stomach. “You can’t just make accusations like that without proof,” I said, my voice tight. “That’s slander.” Richard’s eyes flicked to the briefcase in my hand. “You stole my watch, and now you’re rushing off to fence it. I bet it’s still in that bag.” He spoke with an air of command. “Open your bag. Let me see.” “That’s just your assumption, Richard. I told you, I didn’t take it, and you have no right to search my property.” “I think you’re just scared.” Before I could react, he lunged forward and ripped the briefcase from my grasp. He unzipped it and turned it upside down, shaking it violently. A thick stack of my mother’s medical reports and treatment plans fluttered to the floor like dead leaves. I’d already been on edge for weeks, crushed under the weight of my mother’s illness. His blatant disrespect was the final straw. Something inside me snapped. I snatched my briefcase back, my voice shaking with rage. “What the hell is wrong with you, Richard? Have you no decency?” He ignored me, crouching down and sifting through the scattered papers. From the pile, he produced a watch, its face glittering with diamonds. He held it up to my face, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, Leo? What do you have to say for yourself now? You’re a thief.” I stared at the watch, stunned into silence. “I don’t know… I didn’t take it…” Richard let out a short, cruel laugh. “It was in your bag, but you didn’t take it? What, did it just grow legs and walk in there by itself?” One of my colleagues spoke up. “Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding. I’ve worked with Leo for two years. He’s not that kind of person.” “You can know a person’s face, but you can never know their heart,” Richard said smoothly. “Two years is nothing if someone is putting on an act.” After the initial shock wore off, a cold clarity settled over me. I hadn’t stolen the watch, but it was in my bag. Someone had planted it there. And the only person here who had it out for me was Richard. He and Isabelle had grown up together; he was the one she’d never gotten over. He’d come back from America a month ago and had been targeting me from day one. I lifted my head and pointed to the security camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Pull the footage. I’m just as curious as you are to see how your watch ended up in my bag.” Richard didn’t flinch. “Fine by me. Let’s see how you talk your way out of this one.” Just then, another colleague pointed toward the wall socket. “Hey, look. The camera’s unplugged.” My eyes shot to Richard. Of course. No wonder he was so calm. He’d planned this. He seized the opportunity. “It must have been you, Leo! You unplugged it and then pretended you wanted to see the footage. Who do you think you’re fooling?” But he was mistaken if he thought that was enough to frame me. “Then let’s call the police,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let them clear my name. If I’m the one who unplugged the camera and stole the watch, my fingerprints will be on the plug, the watch, and all over your things.” Seeing my phone, Richard’s composure finally cracked. He quickly adopted a magnanimous tone. “Look, I’ve got my watch back. I don’t want to press the issue. Calling the police would just create negative publicity for Isabelle’s company. Let’s just drop it.” “It’s not dropped for me,” I said, my gaze fixed on him. “I didn’t steal your watch. Unless you admit, right now, that you framed me, I’m calling the cops.” He hesitated, then his eyes darted to Isabelle, his expression shifting to one of wounded innocence. “Isabelle, for your sake, I’ve been more than generous. But he’s insisting on making a scene. It’s only going to embarrass you.” Isabelle’s lips thinned, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as she looked at me. “Ms. Meng,” I started, my voice pleading, “I didn’t steal…” She cut me off. “That’s enough. This conversation is over. No one is to speak of this again.” I couldn’t hide the wave of despair that washed over me. Not only had she not defended me, but she had chosen this ambiguous, damning silence. If this wasn’t cleared up now, I would be branded a thief for the rest of my life. I shook my head firmly. “No. I need my name cleared. Tonight.” Isabelle’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Leo, don’t push it. Are you addicted to playing the victim?” Then came the final blow. “I know your mom is sick,” she said, her voice laced with cold pity. “I know you’re desperate for money. That’s why you went after Richard’s watch.” I just stared at her, numb. “You… you don’t believe me?” She looked down at me from her pedestal. “How am I supposed to believe you? You have the motive. The evidence is right there. We have a witness.” “Leo, I told you I would help you with the money. Did you really have to do this?” I looked up at her face, the face I had loved, and it was the face of a stranger. With their CEO’s verdict delivered, the rest of the employees quickly fell in line, their whispers turning into a chorus of condemnation. “I can’t believe we have a thief in our company. What a disgrace!” “I always knew there was something shady about him. My coffee kept disappearing from the breakroom. I bet it was him.” “He’s so cheap. I strongly recommend he be fired!” “Fire him!” Isabelle’s face darkened. “I said that’s enough. This matter is closed.” The room fell silent, but their eyes still burned with scorn. The hospital called again. After taking the call, I walked out of the room and into the cold night. The wind was biting, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart. A Rolls-Royce pulled up beside me. The window rolled down, revealing Isabelle’s perfect profile. I ignored her and kept walking. “Get in the car,” she commanded. “Do you want everyone to see you like this?” “I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Ms. Meng. This way, there’s no risk of being seen together.” I hailed a taxi and got in, leaving her behind. We had been together for three years, a secret relationship. At first, it was my choice. I wasn’t sure how long we would last, and I didn’t want to be the subject of office gossip, labeled as some gigolo who’d latched onto the boss. But ever since Richard had returned, everything had changed. Her patience with me had worn thin, and her contempt was palpable. I knew it was over. After calming my mother at the hospital, I decided to quit. But I couldn’t be reckless. My mom’s treatment was expensive. I had to find a new job first. From that day on, life at the office became a living hell. Led by Richard, my colleagues isolated me completely. They’d “forget” to tell me about meetings, leaving me to be reprimanded in front of everyone. I’d find my chair mysteriously soaked with water. At lunch, all that was left for me were cold scraps. I lost ten pounds in a week. One afternoon, I was coming downstairs after delivering a file when I saw a group of them crowded around the office entrance, pointing and jeering at my mother. “So, what do you have to say about your son being a thief?” “They say a child’s failings are the parents’ fault. We heard Leo’s father isn’t in the picture. Did he learn how to steal from you?” My mother, her face pale and drawn, tried to defend me. She told them I had always been a good, obedient boy, that I would never steal. She said that even though she wasn’t educated, she would never teach her son to do something wrong. They treated her words like a joke, their laughter sharp and cruel. Someone shoved her. Weakened by months of chemotherapy, my mother stumbled and fell, the lunchbox she was carrying scattering its contents across the pavement. I saw red. I charged into the crowd, pushing them back. “Get away from her! All of you, get out of here!” The one who had pushed her just sneered. “I barely touched her. Look at her, playing dead on the ground. You two are probably just broke and looking for a payday.” I grabbed him by the collar. “My mother has a tumor. If anything happens to her today, I swear I will make you pay.” “If she’s sick, she should be in a hospital, not out here bothering people.” My mother had always been my entire world. I raised my fist to strike him. But she grabbed my wrist. “Leo, don’t…” We had always been on our own, with no one to rely on. My mother lived in constant fear of me getting into trouble. I lowered my hand, but shoved the man away with all my strength. I turned to my mom. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” She shook her head. “I’m fine.” Her voice was laced with guilt. “But the food I made for you… it’s all ruined. It’s my fault. I’ll go home and make you some more.” I had visited her yesterday, and she’d noticed how thin I’d gotten. She’d blamed herself, saying she was a burden and that I should stop spending money on her treatment. I told her I was just craving her cooking, that once she was better, she had to cook for me every day and fatten me up. I couldn’t believe it. She had made my favorite dish—her famous meatballs. I could only imagine the effort it took for her, in her frail state, to prepare them. I knelt, picked up one of the fallen meatballs from the dirty pavement, and took a bite. “It’s delicious, Mom. Just as good as always.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Leo, don’t eat that! It’s dirty! I’ll make you a fresh batch, I promise.” Just then, the black Rolls-Royce pulled up. Richard got out of the passenger seat and shot me a contemptuous look. He turned to Isabelle in the driver’s seat. “Isabelle, I don’t believe there’s a company policy that forces employees to eat garbage off the ground, is there?” Isabelle emerged from the car, her face a mask of cold fury. She looked from me to my mother with disgust, then waved the crowd away. She turned on me, her voice sharp. “Leo, what have I ever done to you to deserve this? First stealing, and now this? Who are you trying to embarrass?” I looked at her, my heart sinking. “I didn’t steal anything, Isabelle. And this isn’t garbage. This is the food my mother made for me.” My mom rushed to explain. “He would never steal, there must be some misunderstanding, my Leo would never…” Isabelle turned and walked away, not even giving her a second glance. My mom tried to follow, but Isabelle sidestepped her as if she were contagious and disappeared into the building. Watching her back, I felt my world collapse. This was the woman I had loved for three years? The stress was too much. My mother’s eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. I frantically called an ambulance. After a tense wait at the hospital, the doctor told me she was stable but that her condition was deteriorating. He mentioned a specialized clinic in Riverbend City that had a high success rate with her type of tumor. The treatment would cost around fifty thousand dollars. He urged me to transfer her as soon as possible. I sat alone in the sterile hospital corridor, my mind a blank. Fifty thousand dollars? Where was I going to get that kind of money? A pair of gleaming leather shoes appeared in my line of sight. I looked up. It was Richard. He held out a bank card. “Leo, I know you need money. There’s fifty thousand on this. Take it, and disappear from Isabelle’s life. Forever.” The old me would have slapped the card out of his hand and told him that when I left Isabelle, it would be on my own terms, not his. But my mother’s life was on the line. She had sacrificed everything for me. I couldn’t abandon her now. I swallowed my pride. I bowed my head and took the card. “I’ll leave,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “But I’ll pay this back. It’s a loan.” A triumphant smile spread across his face. “I always told you, you and Isabelle are from different worlds. You were just a novelty to her. I’m the one she’s meant to be with.” I murmured my blessings, my voice hollow. “Then I wish you a long and happy life together.” Richard left, satisfied. Not long after he was gone, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Mr. Miller?” “Speaking.” “This is the manager of the Grand Crest Hotel. We were doing maintenance on our security system today and discovered that the camera in your private room has a battery backup. We have the full recording from the night of the incident with the watch.” He paused. “I thought you might find it useful.”

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I’d just gotten off work and was heading for the subway when I ran into an old university classmate. She asked me when I was finally going to forgive Luke Pei. Luke and I were childhood sweethearts. We were supposed to get married five years ago. But at our engagement party, the night before we were to register our marriage, he called it all off. In front of everyone. He said he was tired of being a substitute for my one true love, and wished the two of us a long and happy life together. Then he grabbed his graduate school mentor and walked out. I was baffled, desperate to explain that I didn’t have a “one true love,” but the humiliation shattered me. In the end, I was the one who left Kingsbridge. “Luke still has feelings for you,” she said, as if letting me in on a great secret. “He says if you hadn’t used him as a stand-in for that other guy, you two would have been married years ago.” “All you have to do is admit you were wrong, and he’s willing to give you another chance.” Another chance? I laughed. My son is three years old. What past is there to continue? 1 Renee’s jaw dropped, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. She stared at me as if I’d just announced I was from Mars. “M-married?” she stammered. “Your kid’s already in preschool?” I just nodded, not wanting to waste my breath. I turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “No way! Amy, you’re lying, aren’t you?” Her voice was so loud that people waiting for the train started to stare. “Everyone in Kingsbridge knew how much you loved Luke! You gave up a guaranteed spot at a top-tier university for him. You would never marry someone else!” I frowned. Hearing her dredge up those old stories felt like a bad joke. It was true, I had loved Luke. Loved him enough to give up everything. But that was a lifetime ago. “Why would I lie to you?” I asked, my voice flat. My indifference seemed to fuel her fire. “Well, who’s your husband, then? What does he do? Is he as rich as Luke? Is his family as powerful?” The questions came out like machine-gun fire, each one dripping with condescension, as if she was certain I’d married some pathetic loser I was ashamed of. I ignored her, trying to wrench my arm free, but she held on tighter. “Amy, are you just doing this to spite him?” she pressed. “I know what happened back then was unfair to you. But it’s been five years. You should be over it by now.” “Do you have any idea what Luke’s life has been like?” she continued, a note of pride in her voice. “He took over the Pei Corporation and tripled its market value. He’s the most brilliant rising star in the business world! And he’s been completely devoted to you. Besides Cecilia, his work partner, he hasn’t been seen with another woman. Everyone says he’s a tragic hero, wasting five years of his life on a woman who didn’t appreciate him.” The man she described sounded like a saint, a powerful, tragic figure from a romance novel. All I felt was disgust. It reminded me of a phone call I’d received just before I left Kingsbridge. It was from Luke’s mother. Her voice, as always, was gentle and polite, but held an unmistakable, dismissive chill. “Amy, dear, I know you’ve been wronged,” she’d begun with a soft sigh. “Luke has been spoiled his whole life. He’s just too impulsive.” She soothed me first, then pivoted. “But then again, it’s normal for young couples to have their little disagreements. Luke’s career is just taking off, and he’s under a lot of pressure. What he needs is a partner who can support and guide him, someone who can be an asset.” I had held the phone, silent. I understood perfectly. “That girl Cecilia,” she’d continued, “I’ve met her a few times. So poised and mature. She’s brilliant academically, has so much in common with Luke, and she’d be a great help to his career.” Her voice was light, but every word landed like a stone in my heart. “You, on the other hand… your lively spirit is charming, but for a man in Luke’s position, his future wife needs to be proper. She needs to know her place.” Proper. So all my passion, my energy, was just “improper” in her eyes. I grew up with their family. She had watched me grow, treated me like a daughter. But when it mattered most, twenty years of affection meant less than a business connection. To families like theirs, a strategic match would always be more important than a childhood sweetheart. I hadn’t said a word. I just hung up and blocked every single one of them. “Amy, are you even listening?” Renee’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Luke has been so good to you. Are you really happy married to some nobody? Don’t you regret it?” Regret? I looked at her like she was an idiot. “I’m very happy,” I said, enunciating each word. “And I don’t need anyone’s concern.” With that, I finally yanked my arm free and walked away, leaving her standing there with her mouth still hanging open. 2 When I left Kingsbridge, I cut ties with my old life completely. New city, new number, new address. They all assumed I was frozen in time, waiting for my prince to come back and rescue me. They had no idea. I had already turned the page. And Luke Pei was just a typo I had long since erased. The train arrived. I got off and walked toward the preschool near my home. Through the fence, I saw my son laughing as he went down the slide with his friends. A tall figure walked over and scooped him up. It was my husband, David. He saw me and smiled, walking toward me with our son in his arms. “Home early today?” He took my bag and laced his fingers through mine. “Missed you guys,” I said, smiling as I pinched our son’s chubby cheek. He snuggled against me, murmuring “Mommy!” in his sweet, milky voice. That single moment of warmth was enough to ward off all the cold in the world. Regret? What was there to regret? Luke and I had grown up next door to each other. He was two years older and had always protected me. If anyone so much as looked at me wrong, he’d be the first to throw a punch. Everyone said I was the apple of his eye. I thought we’d go from school uniforms to a wedding dress. Until Cecilia showed up. She was his graduate school mentor, a woman of gentle, intellectual grace. She started appearing by his side constantly, always under the guise of academic discussion. The library, research projects, academic forums. At first, I didn’t think much of it. Luke was always surrounded by brilliant women, but he only ever had eyes for me. I trusted him. The first seed of doubt was planted at a party. We were playing Truth or Dare, and Cecilia lost. Her dare was to reveal a secret about someone in the room. Her eyes scanned the group before landing on me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Amy, but I have to tell your secret,” she said, her tone deceptively innocent. “The other day, I accidentally saw Amy’s phone wallpaper. It’s a photo of her with another guy! He’s really handsome. I wonder who he is?” Every head in the room swiveled toward me. A few glanced nervously at Luke. The smile on his face vanished. “That’s my cousin,” I explained quickly. “He passed away a couple of years ago. That’s the only picture I have of us.” “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” Cecilia stammered, looking mortified. “I had no idea. I really didn’t mean anything by it.” Everyone rushed to smooth things over, but the damage was done. Later that night, Luke brought it up again. “Your cousin? How come I’ve never heard you mention him?” “He was always sick, living abroad for treatment. Of course you never met him.” I handed him my phone. In the photo, a pale young man was propped up in a hospital bed, his smile gentle. I stood beside him, grinning like an idiot. “See? We even look a little alike.” Luke studied the photo for a long time before handing it back. “Yeah, you do.” He pretended to believe me, but I could feel that a seed of doubt had been planted. After that, Cecilia was always “accidentally” bringing me up in front of Luke. “Luke, Amy has such a great personality, so many friends. I wish my social circle was that big.” “Luke, I saw Amy at the movies with a guy yesterday. She’s so popular.” “Luke, isn’t Amy graduating soon? She loves to have fun so much. I wonder if she can handle a nine-to-five job.” She never said a bad word about me. Every sentence was a compliment, but each one carried a hidden barb, implying I was flighty, promiscuous, and not serious enough. Luke became suspicious and possessive. We had our first real fight over it. He insisted I accompany him to a formal academic dinner. I ran into a senior colleague from my internship and chatted with him for a few minutes about work. Luke’s face went cold. He turned and walked out, leaving me there alone. I chased him down in the parking garage. “Luke, what the hell is your problem?” “My problem?” he sneered. “Did you ever stop to think how I felt, watching you laugh it up with another man right in front of me?” “He’s my colleague! We were talking about work!” “Does talking about work require you to smile like that?” he roared. Looking at his face, twisted by jealousy, he seemed like a stranger. I felt exhausted. “You’re being completely irrational.” “Irrational?” He grabbed my wrist. “Are you tired of me being so controlling? Am I not as gentle and understanding as your dead cousin?” He brought up my cousin again. I was shaking with anger. “You’re a bastard, Luke!” I ripped my hand away and ran off, crying. We didn’t speak for a long time after that. I thought our relationship was cracking. I didn’t realize it was about to shatter. 3 We were in a cold war for a week. He didn’t call. I didn’t either. Usually, he’d be the first to apologize after a few days. Not this time. I was fuming, but with the engagement party just days away, I figured he’d have to come around eventually. The night before the party, I got a text from Cecilia. It was a photo. Luke was drunk, passed out on her shoulder. Her head was tilted slightly toward his, a victorious smirk on her face. The caption read: He’s going through a lot. You should try to be more understanding. My heart twisted, but I told myself he was just drunk, and she was just taking care of him. On the day of the party, I dressed up, planning to surprise him and make up. I found him in the dressing room. He was wearing a suit that matched my dress, looking impossibly handsome. But when he saw me, his eyes darted away. “Luke,” I said, stepping forward to take his hand. “Let’s not fight anymore, okay?” He yanked his hand away as if he’d been shocked. The force of it sent me staggering. I stared at him in disbelief. The guests were arriving. The MC was on stage. We took our places. The spotlight hit us. I forced a smile, trying to keep up appearances. Luke didn’t even bother. He stared straight ahead, his face a mask of ice. When the MC asked us to exchange rings, the final blow came. He pulled his hand away from mine again. In front of our families and all our friends, his eyes were glacial. “Is it fun?” he asked, his voice low and venomous. “Using me as a stand-in?” The room erupted in whispers. My mind went blank. “Luke, what are you talking about?” “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneered and pulled a letter from his pocket. It was on scented, pink stationery. “What is that?” I asked, my voice trembling. “It’s a love letter you wrote to your ‘one true love’!” he snarled. “Cecilia found it in my study!” He unfolded it and began to read it aloud. The sappy, romantic words, spoken in his cold, angry voice, were like a thousand tiny cuts. “I didn’t!” I cried, panicking. “I never wrote that!” “No?” he laughed cruelly. “The handwriting might be forged, but the perfume on this paper is the exact same one you always wear! How long are you going to keep up this act, Amy?” I was reeling from the sudden, public humiliation. I saw the shock on my parents’ faces, the fury on his, the mixture of pity and contempt from the guests. I was a joke. When he finished, he crumpled the letter and threw it in my face. Then he took out the engagement ring, the one meant for my finger, and threw it to the ground. “I wish you and your one true love a long and happy life together.” He spat out the words, then turned to Cecilia, who was pretending to comfort him, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. He took her arm, and together, they walked out, leaving me alone in the spotlight. In that moment, my world caved in. The disastrous engagement party made me the laughingstock of Kingsbridge. I was the two-timing slut who had tried to land a rich heir while keeping a lover on the side. The rumors were vicious and relentless. The Pei family said nothing, letting the gossip fester. I became the gold-digger who got what she deserved. I was done. Done with Luke, done with his family. I didn’t offer a single word of explanation. I knew he wouldn’t believe me anyway. I deleted my contacts, deactivated my social media, and bought a one-way ticket out of the city I had called home for twenty years. There was nothing left for me there. Renee must have told Luke about my new life. Suddenly, my phone was blowing up with calls and texts from unknown numbers. I ignored them all, blocking them as they came in. A few days later, he found me. As I was leaving work, he was there, blocking my path. He looked different. The boyish charm was gone, replaced by a sharp, mature intensity, but his eyes were bloodshot and filled with a dark, restless energy. He stared at me, his voice raw. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” 4 His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t slept in days. I said nothing and tried to walk around him. He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight I thought the bone would snap. “Amy, I’m talking to you!” he roared. Pain shot up my arm. “We have nothing to do with each other anymore,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let go of me.” My coldness only enraged him further. “Nothing to do with each other? Is that what you call it?” he spat. “You vanish for five years without a word, marry someone else, have a kid… what am I to you?” “You’d rather marry some nobody who came out of nowhere than come back and give me a single explanation?” His eyes were wild, like a cornered animal’s. “Amy, did you ever even love me?” He asked me if I ever loved him. After he had humiliated me with a forged letter in front of everyone I knew. After he had let the world tear me apart while he did nothing. After he had spent the last five years happily playing house with Cecilia. He had the audacity to ask me if I loved him. I looked at his anguished face and felt nothing but a cold, hollow irony. The girl who had stood on that stage, alone and ridiculed, was the one who should have been asking that question. Did you ever love me, Luke? If you did, how could you believe a stranger over twenty years of us? “Mr. Pei, please let me go.” The formal, distant title made him flinch. “Mr. Pei?” he whispered, then his voice rose in fury. “What did you just call me? Say it again, Amy!” His grip tightened. “You owe me an explanation!” “There’s nothing to explain.” I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. As we struggled, a small voice called out. “Mommy!” I turned to see my son running out of the office building, a little butterfly flapping toward me. He was holding a crayon drawing of three stick figures holding hands. “Look, Mommy! It’s you, Daddy, and me!” I finally broke free from Luke’s grasp and knelt to hug my son. “Leo, what are you doing out here?” “Daddy said you were done with work, so I came to get you.” I looked up and saw David standing a few feet away, a warm smile on his face. But Luke, the moment he saw Leo, froze as if struck by lightning. The color drained from his face. He stared at the child in my arms, his lips moving but no sound coming out. David walked over, smoothly lifted Leo from my arms, and gently guided me behind him, shielding me. He looked at Luke, his gaze calm but firm. “Sir, can I help you with something?” Luke seemed to snap out of his trance. His eyes moved from my son, to David, and finally back to me. They were a maelstrom of shock, pain, and utter disbelief. “A child…” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You even have a child…” His voice was so quiet, yet it was filled with a universe of despair. I looked at his devastated expression and felt no satisfaction. Just a vast, empty peace. 5 Yes, I have a child. When I was at my lowest, abandoned by him and condemned by the world, I met David. He was the one who pulled me from the mire. He was the one who gave me a home. He was the one who taught me that love isn’t about possession and suspicion, but trust and protection. What you see now, Luke, is the happiness I fought for with everything I had. And you have no place in it. He took a sudden step forward, as if to grab me. “Amy, tell me this isn’t real!” Before he could touch me, David’s arm shot out, blocking him. David was taller, broader. He just stood there, an immovable wall between us. “Mr. Pei, is it?” David’s tone was polite, but the warning was clear. “Please do not disturb my wife and my son.” My wife. My son. Every word was a dagger to Luke’s heart. His face went another shade paler. He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Amy, just give me five minutes. Please. Let’s just talk.” If this had been five years ago, I might have caved. Now, it was just pathetic. “There’s no need, Mr. Pei. We have nothing to talk about.” I took David’s arm and leaned against him. “Honey, let’s go home. Leo must be hungry.” David smiled gently at me and nodded. “Okay.” He held our son, and I held his arm. The three of us turned and walked away, not giving Luke another glance. I could feel his gaze on my back, hot and painful, like it was trying to burn a hole through me. I started talking to David, my voice loud enough for Luke to hear. “Honey, can we have sweet and sour ribs for dinner? It’s Leo’s favorite.” “Of course. I bought some fresh ribs this afternoon. I’ll make them as soon as we get home.” “Daddy’s the best!” Leo cheered from David’s arms. The sound of our happy, normal family conversation must have been like knives twisting in his gut. I heard a soft thud behind me. I didn’t turn back.

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Three years of marriage to Harvey Wen, and we were still as polite as strangers. He was gentle and considerate, always showering me with gifts and money, a man who never seemed to get angry. Until he suddenly reverted to his eighteen-year-old self. He demanded a divorce, threatening to jump off a building if I didn’t agree. I reluctantly gave in. In his glee, he ran off to an all-night internet cafe, dyed his hair blond, and adorned his ears with half a dozen piercings. He even slapped temporary tattoos of dragons and tigers on his arms. It was only then that I realized the old Harvey had been a bit of a punk. On the day we were supposed to finalize the divorce, a man who looked exactly like Harvey appeared in our home. The adult version was back. I looked from the big one to the small one, a long-forgotten silence falling over me. So… are we getting this divorce or not? 1. What do you do when your gentle, wealthy husband suddenly turns eighteen and becomes a raging rebel? I stood in the middle of our living room, completely at a loss, staring at the hostile boy who was supposed to be Harvey. He was holding a kitchen knife, his face a mask of panic. “There’s no way I’m married! Especially not to someone like you!” A bitter taste filled my mouth. “Harvey… honey, could you please put the knife down?” “No way! You’ll just try to hug me and kiss me again, you pervert!” I flushed with embarrassment. A few moments ago, I’d just stepped out of the shower, barely dressed, and had wrapped my arms around him from behind, planting a kiss on his neck. His reaction was explosive. A deep blush had spread from his cheeks all the way down his neck as he’d screamed, calling me a seductress. When I’d tried to explain that I was his wife, he’d been stunned into disbelief. I’d moved closer to figure out what was going on, and he’d grabbed the fruit knife, holding it out as if I were about to defile him. “Harvey, I won’t kiss you,” I said, trying to sound calm. “Don’t you want to know why you’ve time-traveled ten years into the future?” He frowned, but his guard didn’t drop. He finally lowered the knife, his eyes averted. “Just… don’t walk around dressed like that in front of me. I’m not your husband.” I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a perfectly normal lace slip dress. A little form-fitting, perhaps, and the neckline was admittedly eye-catching. The twenty-eight-year-old Harvey always lost control when I wore it. It was one of the few times he ever showed any real passion. Today was supposed to be one of those nights, which was why I’d been so forward. I quickly grabbed a robe. This younger Harvey obviously wasn’t ready for that kind of fun. The atmosphere was thick with awkwardness. His frustration was a palpable force in the room. “You stay here,” he finally said. “We’re getting a divorce tomorrow.” “No,” I replied without thinking. Harvey and I had met on a blind date. While there wasn’t much passion, our three years of marriage had been respectful and calm. Besides, ours was a business alliance. This marriage was about more than just the two of us; it was about two corporations. But the boy in front of me couldn’t possibly understand that. And even if he could, he wouldn’t care. “Woman! I don’t care what you’re scheming, we’re getting a divorce!” he declared. “My life is the untamed wilderness! It cannot be chained! I want freedom!” I stared at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?” “My dad set this up, didn’t he?” he demanded. “That old bastard loves to control my life.” “No, it was your mom.” It had been his mother who had approached my family about the match. He snorted. “I knew it!” He stormed into the walk-in closet and started rummaging through the clothes, his face wrinkling in disgust at the racks of black, white, and gray suits. “What is this trash? Don’t tell me you bought this for me.” “You bought it yourself,” I said, exasperated. He muttered under his breath, “My taste can’t be this bad.” 2. He finally settled on a pink button-down shirt—one I had bought for him, which had hung unworn in his closet ever since. I was surprised to find it appealed to his younger self’s aesthetic. After changing, he made a beeline for the door. I blocked his path. “Where are you going? It’s late.” He scowled. “Woman, mind your own business.” “You have an important meeting tomorrow. You need to get some rest.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, his face flushing. “What are you doing so close to me?” I dropped my hand, sighing. “You really can’t go.” I didn’t know how long this would last, but his company couldn’t afford any disruptions. He brushed off his shoulder as if my touch had contaminated him. “You’re so annoying! I’m not your husband, why do you get to tell me what to do? I don’t care if the company goes bankrupt.” He puffed out his chest. “You have to divorce me! And don’t try any tricks. I have someone I like, and she’s not a shameless flirt like you.” “I’m sorry, but that’s not your decision to make,” I said, my face a blank mask, though I could feel a slow burn of anger rising within me. Even a saint would lose their temper after being treated like this. I knew he was just a kid, not the gentle, considerate man I was used to, but still. That’s when he picked up the knife again and held it to his crotch. “If you don’t agree to a divorce, I’ll castrate myself! You’ll be a widow for the rest of your life!” I was speechless. Honestly, it wasn’t much of a threat. “Oh,” I said with a shrug. “Go ahead.” He gasped, looking at me with disbelief. “You’re completely shameless! You’d do anything to be with me.” I really wanted to know what was going on in that teenage brain of his. He threw the knife down. Just when I thought he’d given up, he bolted for the balcony, hoisted himself up, and sat on the railing. “What are you doing?” His body teetered precariously. “If you don’t agree to a divorce, I’ll jump!” he shrieked. His self-mutilation, I could ignore. His life, I could not. I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Fine,” I sighed. “I agree.” Maybe the real Harvey had always hated this marriage. He was always kind to me, but it was a polite, distant kindness. A performance of a husband’s duty. The eighteen-year-old could at least voice his own desires. The twenty-eight-year-old couldn’t. He would accept things he clearly disliked with a placid smile. Hearing my agreement, he leaped down from the railing, nearly twisting his ankle. “I’m going to the internet cafe,” he announced triumphantly. “Don’t tell my dad.” The door slammed shut behind him. I stood there for a long time before slowly crawling into bed. I had just laid down when his mother called. “Elara, is Harvey there? I’ve been calling him, but he’s not picking up.” “Uh, he had to step out for something,” I lied automatically. “Your grandmother’s birthday is the day after tomorrow. She wants to celebrate at the Ocean Palace. Can you ask Harvey if that’s alright?” “Of course.” We chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up. Harvey’s grandmother, despite her age, had always been a trendsetter. The Ocean Palace was an aquarium Harvey had opened for me, a tribute to how we first met. On our blind date, we had no idea what to do, so we went fishing. We spent the entire day without a single bite, returning empty-handed with our buckets and rods. We didn’t say a word to each other the entire way back. After we got together, he opened the aquarium. So I could fish to my heart’s content, he’d said. 3. Harvey didn’t come home all night. His assistant called me in a panic. “Mrs. Wen, do you know where Mr. Wen is? I can’t find him, and the board meeting is about to start.” I had sent Harvey a dozen texts, with no reply. I took a deep breath. “I’ll handle it. You all just wait for my signal.” The day was a blur of meetings and damage control. Still no word from Harvey. Frustrated, I dropped my briefcase and started searching the internet cafes in our neighborhood, going from one to the next. I never thought I’d be playing the role of a worried mother so soon into my marriage. When I finally found him, I almost didn’t recognize him. His hair was bleached a shocking yellow, a silver chain hanging around his neck. His exposed arms were covered in tattoos. My heart leaped into my throat, terrified he had actually gotten inked. But then I realized there was no way he could have gotten that much work done so quickly. They had to be temporary. He was glued to the screen, mouse clicking furiously. I recognized the game—he was playing a first-person shooter. I reached over and pulled off his headphones. He whipped his head around, his face a mask of annoyance. “What the hell? Why did you follow me here?” Everyone in the vicinity turned to stare. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” I asked, my voice cold. “Why should I? You’re not still trying to get back with me, are you? Because it’s not happening. I’m not him. I’m never getting married. I don’t believe in it.” His words struck me. I remembered that before me, Harvey had never been in a serious relationship, aside from a laughable middle school “romance.” But hadn’t he just told me yesterday that he had someone he liked? “Come home with me. We need to talk about a few things concerning your career.” This wasn’t working. His lack of cooperation was becoming a serious problem. His rebellious streak flared. “No way. I’m not going. What are you gonna do, hit me?” So I slapped him across the face. Before he could react, I grabbed his ear and twisted. He yelped in pain. “You crazy woman! You witch!” I was usually so calm, so composed. But I had reached my breaking point. I treated him like I would my younger brother. I kicked him in the ass, and he went sprawling to the floor. His insults quickly turned to pleas for mercy. “Grandma! This is domestic abuse!” he wailed, then added a pathetic threat. “If I wasn’t against hitting women, I would have beaten you to a pulp by now!” I slapped him again. He clutched his face, stunned. “How did I end up with such a violent wife?” The cafe owner came over to intervene. “Hey, ma’am, take it easy. It’s normal for kids to want to play games.” “I’m not his mother,” I said calmly. “I’m his wife.” The owner looked from me to Harvey, then whispered, “Ah, a sugar mama, huh?” Harvey overheard. “Who are you calling a sugar baby?!” he shrieked. “Your whole family are sugar babies!” Despite his ridiculous getup, he was still handsome. He couldn’t win a fight against me, so he started arguing with the owner instead. “Open your eyes! Do I look like I need her money? Do I look poor to you? You don’t think we’re a good match?” I grabbed his arm and dragged him out of there, dying of embarrassment. Once outside, he shoved me away. “Get off me! You’re so annoying!” He was like a bantam rooster—all squawk and no bite. “Don’t you want to get a divorce? Let’s go home and discuss the terms.” He frowned. “What’s there to discuss? We just sign the papers.” “If you want to walk away with nothing, not a single penny, then sure.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Fine. I’ll go back with you.” He wasn’t about to be called a kept man. 4. On the way home, I couldn’t help but lecture him. “You need to come up with a plan. Tell everyone you have amnesia. Your assistant will help you with work. And stay out of the internet cafes.” I glanced at the fake tattoos on his arm, a headache starting to form. “I don’t want to,” he said stubbornly. “…” I took a deep breath. This kid was a walking rebellion. “Do you have any idea how much the twenty-eight-year-old you has sacrificed for his career?” “What’s that got to do with me?” he said, unconcerned. “I’m not him. Stop using me as his replacement. I am who I am, a different kind of firework.” His cheesy line made my toes curl. This was going to be impossible. The twenty-eight-year-old Harvey was obedient to a fault; the eighteen-year-old was his polar opposite. How could ten years make such a difference? When we got home, I parked the car. He stormed off without a second glance, not even waiting for me. I trailed behind him, but then he suddenly slowed down, and I easily caught up. He glanced at my high heels. “You walk so slow.” “…” Patience, I told myself. He’s just a child. “So, how are we splitting the assets?” he asked. “I’m so awesome, I must have a lot of money, right?” He was in for a rude awakening. How much he got depended entirely on how generous I was feeling. If I wanted to be cruel, he’d get nothing. Our prenuptial agreement stated that in the event of a divorce, he would leave with nothing. That was the clause that had won over my parents, convincing them to entrust their daughter to him. As we reached the door, he poked my shoulder. “Hello? Are you going to answer me? How much do I get?” The next second, the door swung open from the inside. The housekeeper had been on leave for a month. There was no one home. My heart started to pound. I looked up and met a pair of familiar eyes. My jaw dropped. I looked back at the younger Harvey. He was now staring, wide-eyed, at the older one. The air grew cold. The younger Harvey tensed, his expression guarded. I was the first to speak. “Honey, you’re back?” The younger one snapped, “Who are you calling honey? I’m not your husband.” The older one’s lips curved into a thin smile, his gaze shifting from the boy to me. “She was talking to me. And this is my house. It’s perfectly normal for me to be here.” I felt another wave of awkwardness. “Let’s just… go inside,” I said, trying to sound casual. Once inside, the question returned, more pressing than ever. Are we getting this divorce or not? I looked from my young husband to my old one, and back again.

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The Holt family’s monthly dinner was a private affair. No outsiders allowed. Yet Ethan’s young secretary, Hope, was always the exception. I’d tolerated her presence before, when she was just a quiet shadow in the background. But tonight, my own son, Leo, handed her the menu and asked her to order. In that instant, everything felt… pointless. When we got home, I slapped the divorce papers on the table in front of Ethan. He gripped the edge of the paper, a cold sneer on his face. “All this because Hope ordered a dish? Are you serious?” “I’m serious. Sign it.” 1. “Leah, if you’re determined to make a scene, can we at least talk about the timing? I have to work late. Can’t you wait until I get back tomorrow to fight with me? I’m exhausted tonight.” Ethan sank into the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. Hope stood by the door, clutching a folder, her expression a careful mask of professional neutrality. Outside, the low rumble of the Maybach’s engine was a constant hum. The house staff moved silently, cleaning, their eyes fixed on their tasks. Everything was in its proper place, running like a well-oiled machine. The only thing out of place was me, standing before Ethan, coiled and ready to strike. After a long silence, he finally opened his eyes and looked at me. “Just let it go for tonight, Leah. Please.” The moment the words left his mouth, I heard a soft, contemptuous scoff from somewhere in the villa. I knew it was one of the maids, looking down on me. I had a history of picking fights over trivial things, desperate for any proof that I mattered to him. Now, his weary concession just made me look like a shrew. A fire ignited in my chest. I grabbed the spare copy of the divorce agreement and threw it down in front of him again. “No. Sign it. Now.” Ethan’s eyes met mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths—frustration, fatigue, as if my relentless pressure was wearing him down to nothing. “Leah, if you’re angry about the ordering, I can promise you it will never happen again. And as for Leo hurting your feelings, I’ll have him apologize to you the second he wakes up tomorrow. I’ll drag him to you myself. Will that be enough to satisfy you?” Ethan never compromised. But after a quick, subtle glance from Hope, his tone had softened. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, a wave of desolation washing over me. The proud, untouchable Ethan Holt was taking cues from his secretary. We were supposed to be the perfect match—childhood sweethearts from families of equal standing. I had wanted to marry him, but his heart belonged to someone else. In the end, he couldn’t fight his family’s demands and married me. His first love left for America, heartbroken. Then fate dealt me another blow. Shortly after our wedding, my parents died, leaving me an orphan. The Holts’ grand plan of merging our families to dominate the city’s business landscape collapsed before it ever began. And for that, they resented me. I wasn’t even allowed at their monthly family dinners until I was pregnant with Leo in our third year of marriage. And even then, with a child growing inside me, I was expected to serve the entire Holt clan like a maid. But I loved Ethan, so I endured it. I swallowed my pride and accepted it all. Things only improved slightly after Leo was born. But as my son grew, he absorbed their attitude towards me. He was never close to me. And tonight, at the family dinner, he had personally handed the menu to another woman. A woman who coveted his mother’s place. I could never forget the time I was suffering from morning sickness and asked Ethan to order me something simple. The Holts had ridiculed me, their insults escalating until they were attacking my upbringing, calling me uncultured. Ethan saw it all but said nothing, just telling me to bear with it. When I tried to defend myself, he joined them, criticizing my every move. I’ve drafted and redrafted these divorce papers more times than I can count. Each disappointment was a drop in the bucket, and tonight, the bucket finally overflowed. I uncapped the pen, signed my name at the bottom, and shoved it into Ethan’s hand. “Enough talk. Sign it.” 2. His knuckles were white around the pen, as if he wanted to snap it in two. The fire in his eyes blazed hotter. “Leah, there’s a line you don’t cross. Pushing too hard always backfires. Do I really need to teach you that?” With a surge of anger, he hurled the pen. It smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces and splattering ink across the pristine paint. Hope cried out, dropping her files and covering her head. A tremor went through my own body. The temperature in the living room seemed to plummet. Shaken, Hope gathered the broken pieces of the pen and went to Ethan’s side. She placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it gently. “Ethan, don’t be angry. It’s not good for you. Just talk to Leah.” Her soft, gentle voice seemed to instantly calm him. Before he could speak again, Leo came pattering down the stairs, barefoot and anxious. The nanny followed close behind, holding his dinosaur slippers. “Young Master, please put on your shoes. If you get sick, your mother will worry.” I watched as Leo ran right past me and straight to Hope. He circled her, checking her from head to toe before letting out a sigh of relief. “Auntie Hope, don’t be scared. I’ll protect you from now on. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Hope smiled warmly and ruffled his soft hair. “Okay, Leo. But shouldn’t you put your slippers on first? Your mommy will be worried if you get sick. Nanny, could you give me the slippers?” Only then did Leo’s gaze shift to me, his lip curling in disdain. The nanny stood awkwardly to the side, unsure how to act without offending someone. “I’ll take them,” I said, taking the slippers and crouching down in front of Leo. “Put on your shoes.” Instead, he started grabbing things off the coffee table and throwing them at me. “I don’t want you to do it!” The ashtray struck my forehead. Blood started to flow, warm and sticky. Hope rushed to find the first-aid kit, but Ethan just watched me with cold eyes. “Are you satisfied now that you’ve caused all this chaos?” He still thought I was just making a scene. And why wouldn’t he? They looked like the perfect family of three. I was the intruder. Eight years of my life, all for nothing. I calmly picked up the things he’d thrown and placed them back on the table. Ethan watched me in silence for a long time. Perhaps seeing me so defeated stirred some flicker of pity in him. He came over and tried to pull me up. “Leave it. The maids will clean it up. Just stop causing trouble.” I sat on the sofa and pushed the divorce agreement towards him again. “Can you sign it now?” “Leah!” Ethan’s voice was a raw cry of fury. He shot to his feet, glaring down at me. “You just won’t quit, will you? Fine! You want a divorce? You can forget about getting custody of Leo!” I almost died from blood loss giving birth to Leo five years ago. That’s why, no matter how cold he was to me, I poured all my love into him. When he was sick, I’d stay up all night, watching over him. Ethan knew how much Leo meant to me. He thought he could use him to control me. He was wrong. The moment Leo chose Hope, I had already let him go. “I relinquish my rights to custody. I’ll leave behind my dowry jewelry as his child support. You can rest assured, the moment this agreement is effective, I will disappear from Leo’s world completely and never return.” A dead silence fell over the room. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Leo scowled at me and shouted, “Good! I was sick of you being my mom anyway! I want Auntie Hope to be my mom!” He was only five. He couldn’t possibly understand the devastating power of those words. A dull ache spread through my chest. I doubled over, covering my face, forcing myself to swallow the grief. Ethan didn’t correct him. Instead, he turned his rage on me. “What the hell do you want, Leah? Are you happy now that you’ve torn this family apart, turning mother and son into enemies?” He swept the already cracked ashtray off the table again. After the loud crash, Leo burst into tears. He threw himself into Hope’s arms, sobbing. “Auntie Hope, I’m scared. Can you make Daddy stop being angry? He always listens to you…” Hope gently patted his back, soothing him. “Ethan, you promised me you wouldn’t get angry again. Please, just talk to her nicely.” Then she turned to me, her expression apologetic. “Ma’am, please don’t mind him. Mr. Holt is just upset. Tonight’s dinner was my fault. I shouldn’t have ordered anything. I promise I won’t attend any more of the Holt family dinners. Please, don’t fight with him anymore.” Her eyes were glistening with tears, her face a perfect portrait of someone trying to keep the peace. It made me want to vomit. My gaze shifted to Ethan. Though his anger was still simmering, he had indeed fallen silent. I suddenly started to laugh, a broken sound that was so close to a sob. “Miss Shaw, on what grounds, exactly, are you playing peacemaker between my husband and me?” “Ma’am, I—I—you’ve misunderstood! Mr. Holt and I are just colleagues! Please don’t be angry. If you don’t like me, I’ll leave the Holt family right now. I’ll quit the company. As long as you and Mr. Holt can be happy…” Ethan stared at her, his fists clenched. I saw the concern blazing in his eyes, so obvious he might as well have shouted it. I spoke deliberately. “You should know, Miss Shaw, that Ethan treats you as someone special. But if I don’t willingly give up my position as Mrs. Holt, you will never have it. If you keep interfering, I might just decide to stay. Are you sure that’s the outcome you want?” 3. In the end, amidst Hope’s choked sobs, Ethan signed the papers. I immediately called my lawyer to handle the rest. Ethan watched me, his face a cold, hard mask, as I made the arrangements. When I hung up, he couldn’t resist a final, cutting remark. “Remember this, Leah. You brought all of this on yourself today. And since I’ve signed, there’s no turning back. We have a prenup. Don’t even think about getting a single penny from me.” I carefully folded the agreement and nodded. “I understand.” Then I stood up. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to go pack.” My calm, almost gentle response seemed to smother his blazing anger, leaving it trapped and festering inside him. I knew the feeling. It was like having a ball of cotton stuck in your chest—suffocating, unbearable. For eight years, that was how he’d handled every conflict between us: with cold, silent withdrawal. As Ethan stewed, Hope cautiously approached and put a supportive hand on his arm. I pulled my gaze away and looked at Leo, his face streaked with tears. After a moment’s thought, I spoke to him. “I won’t be picking you up from school anymore. And I won’t be there to watch over you when you’re sick. You’re five years old now. It’s time you learned to tell the good people from the bad. Don’t go off with strangers just because they offer you a lollipop.” Six months ago, Ethan had an unexpected business trip and asked me to bring his luggage to the office. I’d been late once before and been harshly reprimanded for my poor choice of outfits, so the call immediately put me on edge. I carefully selected several outfits I knew he’d like and rushed them to his office as fast as I could. Because of that, I was late picking up Leo from kindergarten. He had wandered out of the school by himself and was found roaming the streets. A stranger offered him a lollipop, and he got into their car. Luckily, the person was just trying to take him to the police station. But in the time he was missing, I was frantic, searching for him like a madwoman. The Holts dispatched a legion of bodyguards. Ethan even canceled his trip and sped back from the airport. In the aftermath, I became the villain. Regardless of the facts, the entire Holt family directed their fury at me. I could have endured it—I was, after all, their designated punching bag. But from that day on, Leo began to treat me like an enemy. And that was when the last thread of my affection for him finally began to fray. “Leah, Leo is the future heir of the Holt Corporation. We don’t need an outsider like you worrying about him,” Ethan spat. “Or are you just saying all this because you’re hoping I’ll ask you to stay?” I just smiled and walked towards the bedroom without another word. I never thought that after eight years as a full-time housewife, something as simple as packing a suitcase would feel so foreign. I looked around the bedroom, at all the little touches I had personally added, and suddenly, it all seemed so dull. In the end, I only took a photo album from my vanity and two keys. Ethan was standing in the doorway, his eyes boring into me. As I walked past him, I said calmly, “Have the maids throw all my things out tomorrow.” “Don’t you dare regret this, Leah!” he roared at my back. I didn’t break my stride. I just kept walking, away from that cold, gilded cage. 4. A large part of why I loved Ethan so fiercely for so long was because he was once a beacon of light in my darkest, most insecure years. During puberty, my face was covered in acne. My parents took me to every doctor imaginable, but nothing stopped the relentless breakouts. I was already self-conscious, and the constant mockery from my classmates sent me spiraling toward depression. Ethan and I were in the same grade, but different classes. After every period, he would come to my classroom, a silent protector. If anyone dared to bully me, he’d roll up his sleeves and start a fight. He got into a lot of trouble for fighting those two years, but he never cared. He’d just clap me on the shoulder and say, “You’re my girl, Leah. I’m the only one who gets to tease you. If anyone else tries, I’ll beat them into submission.” The sound of a car horn behind me snapped me back to the present. I instinctively turned. Hope was getting out of the back of the Maybach, hurrying to catch up with me. “Ma’a—Leah. Ethan has to get back to the office for a meeting. Where are you headed? We can give you a ride.” I glanced toward the car. Ethan had rolled down the window, and our eyes met. After a moment of silence, he spoke, his lips a thin line. “Get in.” As it happened, my car was in the shop for maintenance. And while the garage was filled with luxury cars, none of them were mine. Our marital home was in the suburbs, and the only way back to the city was along a long, winding mountain road. Without much thought, I turned to get into the front passenger seat. But Hope was faster, sliding in before I could. She left the entire back seat for me and Ethan. I gave them an address and then fell silent. The atmosphere was frigid. But for the first time in a long time, he sat beside me without pulling out his phone or a file to work. I could feel his gaze on me, again and again. It wasn’t like him to hesitate. I let out a small, humorless laugh. Just before the car stopped, I finally broke the silence. “What is it you want to say, Ethan?” His brow was furrowed as he looked at the scabbed-over cut on my forehead. “Leah, if you would just admit you were wrong, I could let you see Leo once a week.” “No, thank you.” The reply was swift. I opened the door and got out. Ethan exploded. “You’re so ungrateful, Leah! The Suttons are all dead and gone! Let’s see how you survive on your own!” My greatest fear was being alone. He always knew exactly where to stick the knife. I slammed the car door and walked away quickly. But Hope chased after me, grabbing my arm. “Leah, Ethan’s just worried about you. That’s why he wanted to give you a ride. He cares about you, he really does…” Before she could finish, Ethan got out of the car, pulled her hand from my arm, and yanked her into his embrace. “Let her go!” “Ethan!” “I said, let her go!” I stood there and watched them struggle, not missing the flicker of triumph under Hope’s panicked facade. A wicked thought sparked in my mind, and I smiled. “Ethan, I’m just curious. Are you so taken with Hope because you’ve genuinely fallen for her, or is it because she’s a dead ringer for your first love, Ava?”

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Eight years ago, they said I was a monster. A drunk driver who killed dozens of people. I tried to tell the truth, but my parents had already forged the evidence. They sacrificed me to protect my adoptive brother, Finn. In the ensuing public outrage, every gallery canceled my contracts. I begged my fiancée for help, but she refused to listen to a word of my explanation. She called me a butcher. She stood by and watched as the victims’ families severed the tendons in my right hand, ensuring I’d never hold a paintbrush again. Then, she, my parents, and my brother conspired to send me to prison for eight years. Now, I’m out. A ghost with a new name, working as a security guard in a quiet apartment complex. No one knows my past, and I’ve grown used to the calm. Until she appeared again. My former fiancée, Elara. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her jaw tight with accusation. “Noah, why did you disappear?” “Don’t you know your parents and I have been looking everywhere for you?” … I sat frozen in the security booth, my uniform a shield of anonymity. “Ma’am, I think you have the wrong person.” But Elara wouldn’t be dismissed. She lunged forward, grabbing my hand, trying to drag me out into the open. “You’re always so stubborn! It was your stubbornness eight years ago that got all those people killed! When are you going to stop?” Her voice was loud, sharp enough to cut, but it died in her throat the moment she saw my right hand. Her gaze dropped, fixing on the mangled limb. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch the grotesque, crisscrossing scars. It’s been eight years. The pain is long gone. But her touch felt like a blade, threatening to slice open the old wounds. A cold sweat soaked through my shirt. The terror of that day, of the tendons being torn from my flesh, rushed back, and I began to shake uncontrollably. Elara’s voice was a raw whisper. “Noah… did it hurt?” “I’m sorry.” I didn’t answer her, but her commotion had already attracted the attention of my captain, Dave. He came running over, his face etched with concern. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Let go of him!” Before Dave could reach us, a group of students from the nearby arts university swarmed around Elara. “You’re Elara Vance, aren’t you? The most famous artist in the country right now! Could I please get your autograph?” Thanks to them, Elara let go of my hand. I scrambled back, putting as much distance between us as I could. Dave, finally understanding the scene, turned to me, his face a mask of shock. “Noah… these kids are saying you’re someone important. Who… who are you?” Before I could answer, one of the students piped up again. “I heard you’ve been looking for your fiancé, the one who went to prison. Don’t tell me it’s this security guard?” The student shot me a look of pure disdain. “Your fiancé was a genius painter. This guy is just some broken-down guard. A cripple. You must have the wrong person.” A bitter smile touched my lips. He was right. I couldn’t even hold a paintbrush anymore. I was nothing but a shadow of my former self. But Elara, who had been signing autographs, froze. Her face hardened. “Shut up,” she snapped. “This is between me and Noah. It’s none of your business.” She pushed through the crowd and walked back to me, holding out a gold-embossed invitation. I looked down. The words burned my eyes. 【Wedding Invitation: Finn & Elara】 Of course. She was marrying my adoptive brother. “Noah,” Elara’s face was a canvas of pain. “What you did eight years ago… it destroyed me. Finn was there for me through it all. He stayed by my side for eight years. I can’t let him down.” “You always said you wanted to see me in a wedding dress. I hope you’ll come.” I took the invitation and placed it on the counter beside me, turning away from it. I thought that would be the end of it. But that night, I got a call from the factory where I’d found a second job. “Noah, son. You’re a young man, a great painter once. This place is beneath you.” The old factory manager’s voice was trembling over the phone. “I’ll pay you a full month’s salary, three thousand. Just please… don’t come back.” I was stunned, but before I could ask what was happening, he had already blocked my number. A moment later, my phone rang again. It was Elara. “Noah,” her voice was heavy with exhaustion. “You shouldn’t be working as a security guard. I spoke to the factory. Come back. Your parents and I will take care of you. I have ways to get you back into the art world, you don’t have to…” I hung up. Who the hell did she think she was? Eight years ago, she refused to listen, so certain of my guilt that she let them destroy my hand as punishment. Now, without asking, without a single shred of trust or a single question about the truth, she was bulldozing her way back into my life, shattering the peace I’d fought so hard to build. Her words made me sick with anger. I sat on my dorm bed, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm inside me. Dave saw my distress and brought me a cup of hot water. “Kid, what the hell is going on?” I knew he was bursting with questions. Dave had been good to me. When I first got out of prison, with nothing to my name and a useless hand, he’d taken pity on me and gotten me the security job. The pay was only a thousand a month, but it came with room and board. It was a lifeline. I wasn’t going to lie to him. I bought a rotisserie chicken and a bottle of cheap whiskey, and I told him everything. He listened in silence for a long time, then clapped a hand on my shoulder and let out a heavy sigh. “Forget the job. We’ll find another one. If you have nowhere to go, I’ve got a basement. It’s not much, but you can stay there for now.” The next day, as I was packing my things to move out, I found them waiting for me. The families of the victims. I don’t know how they found me, but they were blocking the entrance to the dorm. The moment they saw me, their rage ignited. “You animal! We finally found you!” “Our families are dead because of you! Why are you still alive?” They surged forward, surrounding me. I tried to speak, to explain, but a foot slammed into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I curled into a ball on the ground, pain exploding through me as a storm of fists and clubs rained down. Warm blood seeped from my body, my few belongings scattering in the dirt. A single drop of rain hit my face. The sky, a bruised gray, finally broke, and the heavens opened up. Maybe they grew tired, or maybe it was the rain, but they eventually stopped. After a few final, spiteful kicks, they left. I lay there alone, unable to move, as the downpour washed the blood from my skin. I tried to push myself up, again and again, but each time I collapsed back into the mud. “Noah! Are you okay?” It was Dave, running toward me with an old umbrella. He helped me to my feet and loaded me onto his beat-up scooter, taking me to the hospital. But every clinic, every hospital, big or small, saw me and immediately refused to treat me. Finally, an old doctor took pity on me. He secretly slipped me a bottle of antiseptic. “Son, someone important has made some calls,” he whispered. “No one will dare treat you. Go home.” I laughed, a broken, bitter sound that turned into tears. Elara, is this your idea of helping me? It’s a cruel kind of help. Defeated, I returned to Dave’s basement. I had just collapsed onto the cot when there was a knock at the door. It was my parents, with Finn. He saw me and his eyes immediately welled up. “Brother, why are you living in a place like this? I know you still love Elara. You must be doing this to protest. Fine… I won’t marry her. I’ll give her back to you…” He trailed off, his voice catching in a sob, as if he were enduring some terrible sacrifice. It was his signature move. Anytime he wanted something from me, he’d pull this act. Because his parents had died in the car crash that saved my own, my parents felt an endless debt to him. Whenever he cried, they automatically assumed I was the bully. Sure enough, seeing his pitiful display, my father strode forward and slapped me across the face. “Stop embarrassing us! Do you think acting pathetic is going to make us feel sorry for you? Make Elara take you back? Dream on!” My mother rushed to comfort Finn, her voice cold as she addressed me. “Alright, people have already found you. If you don’t come home with us, it will look like we’re mistreating you. We can’t have anyone getting suspicious and looking into what happened back then. Let’s go!” When I didn’t move, my father took it as a challenge to his authority. He kicked me, his foot landing squarely on one of my fresh wounds. Blood soaked through my shirt. My father raised his hand to strike me again, but froze. He stared at the spreading stain, and slowly, his hand dropped. My mother’s voice softened with a hint of concern. “Noah, what happened? Where did you get these injuries?” I clenched my jaw, my body trembling with pain. Finn’s eyes darted nervously. “Mom, Dad, he must have done it to himself! He’s probably so angry he’s self-harming, like in the movies!” He wiped away a fake tear and leaned close to me. “Brother, please don’t make them worry. Don’t hurt yourself like this.” His words were earnest, but then he leaned closer, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “Why didn’t they just beat you to death? Useless.” He pulled back, adding a few more words of feigned concern for our parents’ benefit. They bought it, of course. My father snorted. “If he wants to hurt himself, let him. Finn, you’re too kind. Let’s go. Leave him.” They turned and left with Finn, never seeing the triumphant smirk he shot me over his shoulder. After they were gone, I locked the door and, gritting my teeth against the pain, re-bandaged my wounds. I had just finished when Dave knocked and came in. He was wringing his hands, his face a picture of misery. “Noah, kid…” He paused, struggling for words. “It’s not that I don’t want you here… it’s just… some important people from the city… they came by. My kids are still young, I just can’t…” I knew what he was trying to say. I didn’t blame him. He had done more than enough. I thanked him again, and not wanting to cause him any more trouble, I packed my things and left that same night. The moment I stepped outside, Elara was there with a moving truck. Seeing her confirmed my suspicions. I frowned. “Is this fun for you, Elara? Why are you threatening innocent people?” She avoided my gaze, glancing at Dave’s house. “I didn’t want to, Noah. You forced my hand. Just come back with me peacefully. I will help you get out of this rut. Why are you fighting this?” I didn’t answer. The ride back to the city was silent and suffocating. She took me to a small apartment where my parents were already waiting on the sofa. The moment I saw them, my instinct was to turn and run, but Elara slammed the door shut behind me. “Where do you think you’re going?” my father snapped. “Haven’t you caused enough shame?” “A murderer like you should be grateful we’re giving you a place to hide,” my mother added coldly. “We know you’re not over Elara marrying Finn, but look at yourself. Do you really think someone with your record deserves her? You will stay here until after the wedding. If you go out, you report to us first, and you wear a mask!” Their words were so absurd I almost laughed. “Me? A murderer? A shame?” I began, “You of all people know what really happened…” My mother’s hand flew out, cutting me off with a sharp slap. My father shot to his feet, his face contorted with panic and rage. “Shut your mouth! If you dare say another word, I will tear it off your face!” Elara looked confused, but just then, my father’s phone rang. It was the butler. “Sir, it’s terrible! The young master has a fever, he’s collapsed!” That was all it took. Elara’s confusion vanished, replaced by alarm. She and my parents rushed out, slamming the door behind them. As I watched their retreating backs, a familiar ache spread through my chest, but it was mixed with a profound sense of relief. My phone buzzed. A text from Finn. 【See, brother? All I have to do is say the word, and they all come running back to me.】 Attached was a photo: Elara in the kitchen making soup, my parents gently tending to him with a hot drink. I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and lay back on the bed. I had given up on them long ago. I no longer cared who held the higher place in their hearts. I hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since Elara had reappeared in my life. I was asleep almost instantly. The next day, I woke up to a searing pain. My mother was dragging me out of bed by my hair. Before I could even cry out, she was screaming. “Noah, what the hell is wrong with you? Why did you post about your return online?!” I was bewildered. “What? I was asleep all day! I didn’t do anything!” My father threw his phone at my face. I picked it up. An account, claiming to be me, had posted a new status: 【I’m back, but my fiancée is about to marry someone else.】 The post had exploded. The comments were a torrent of hate. 【A murderer thinks he has the right to a good woman like her?】 【Take a look in the mirror, you piece of scum!】 【Just die already! Why didn’t you pay for your crimes with your life? Murderer!】 “You’re still lying!” my father seethed. “You can’t stand to see your brother happy, can you? He’s getting married tomorrow! After everything he’s done for you, why have you always been like this?” Elara’s face was a mask of disappointment. “Eight years, Noah, and you haven’t changed one bit. You disgust me.” Without another word, she grabbed my arm and dragged me into a small, dark storage closet. The door slammed shut, and I heard the lock click into place. [Paywall] “Noah, Finn has been crying all day, saying he’s sorry for hurting you,” Elara’s voice came from the other side of the door. “To make sure you don’t ruin the wedding, you’re going to stay in here. You’re not going anywhere.” I pounded on the door, my voice raw with panic. “No! No! I won’t go out tomorrow, I swear! Please, let me out! I can’t be in here!” But there was no answer. I heard the front door close, and then the apartment was silent, filled only with the echoing sound of my own desperate pleas. The closet was tiny, windowless, and pitch black. In prison, I’d been bullied, locked in a toilet stall for three days without food or water until I passed out. Ever since, I’ve had severe claustrophobia. I curled into a tight ball, the wounds on my body beginning to seep blood again. Pain, fear, and the suffocating darkness swam together, my consciousness starting to fade. But my survival instinct was a cruel master, refusing to let me slip away completely. I don’t know how much time passed. It might have been the next day. I could hear the faint, festive sound of a wedding procession outside. It must be time. Elara and Finn were getting married. I felt like I couldn’t hold on any longer. But just then, a thick, acrid smoke began to seep under the door. Fire.

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War broke out in the Republic of Yaran, but my fiancé threw a fit at the airport, refusing to let the evacuation flight take off. All to wait for his precious Jennie, the woman who’d taken advantage of the chaos to go loot a designer makeup counter. The roar of explosions crept closer and closer. With the entire plane in mortal danger, I had no choice but to knock him unconscious and drag him aboard. Back home, far from the war, we lived a quiet, happy life. I thought he had finally forgotten her. But on our wedding day, he tied me up, got in his car, and ran me down. As I lay dying, I heard his venomous laughter. “Lynn, this is all your fault. You killed my Jennie, left her to be blown to pieces by a missile! “She was just a girl who loved beautiful things! What was so wrong with that? “You owe her this. I’m going to make your death a thousand times more gruesome than hers!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that moment, with him blocking the jet bridge. This time, I would give him exactly what he wanted. I would let him and his beloved Jennie stay together… forever. 1 “The rebels are almost at the airport! If we don’t take off now, we’ll be trapped!” The sounds of gunfire and explosions were drawing nearer, punctuated by the terrified screams of the crowd. Inside the cabin, people were praying, begging. A few frantic men rushed toward my fiancé, Ethan, trying to reason with him. He kicked them away with a savage boot. He glared at anyone who dared approach. “Jennie is on her way! What’s the big deal about waiting for her?” A man with glasses, clutching his chest where Ethan had kicked him, scrambled back to his feet. “So we can all die with her? Is that the plan?!” he spat, his voice shaking with fury. “The evacuation window is closing! The rebels are coming! How long are we supposed to wait? Don’t you realize we have Dr. Finch on this plane?” He pointed toward a pale, white-haired old man sitting quietly nearby. Dr. Finch was a titan in the medical field, the core of this entire rescue mission. He’d come to Yaran on a humanitarian mission, and if anything happened to him, countless patients back home would lose their only hope. “So what? Your lives matter, but Jennie’s doesn’t?” Ethan shot back, his face a mask of cold fury. “We’re all fellow countrymen. We should stick together.” His words left everyone seething but speechless. My co-pilot, just as furious, turned to me. “Captain Miller, you have to talk to your fiancé! This evacuation involves every citizen in Yaran!” “They’re about to lock down the whole country! This is our only chance out!” “And Dr. Finch’s health can’t take any more risks!” In an instant, every eye in the cabin was on me. I was the captain of this flight, one of the leaders of the evacuation. They were all looking to me to restore order. Ethan’s head snapped toward me, a familiar, predatory glint in his eyes. He was afraid I would give the order to leave Jennie behind. For a split second, I saw a flash of pure murder in his gaze. I took a deep breath and made a decision completely different from my past life. “Ethan is right. We can’t abandon any of our own.” A wave of groans and frustrated hisses swept through the cabin. Ethan, however, visibly relaxed, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. “Crazy! You’re all fucking crazy!” the man in glasses cursed, struggling to stand up again. Ethan’s expression twisted into a snarl. He lunged forward, decking the man with a single punch, then pulled a heavy hammer from an overhead maintenance locker. As the plane’s mechanic, he knew every inch of this aircraft. He slammed the hammer against the cabin wall for emphasis, his eyes sweeping over the passengers. “Anyone else have something to say? Don’t tempt me.” 2 The cabin fell silent. Only the escalating explosions outside served as a grim reminder of the approaching danger. Ethan scanned the cabin, satisfied by the fear in everyone’s eyes. He shot me a softer, almost gentle look. “Lynn, thank you for standing up for Jennie. I knew my fiancée was the kindest, most reasonable woman in the world.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “For being so good, I promise, the moment we get home, we’ll get married. From now on, I’ll only ever be good to you.” How familiar that promise sounded. He’d used the exact same words to fool me in our last life. I fought back a wave of nausea and forced a shy nod. He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. I lowered my eyes, hiding the icy contempt within. Outside, the chaos intensified. Plumes of black smoke billowed in the distance, and the silhouettes of rebel armored vehicles were becoming visible. Yet Ethan remained planted at the cabin door, his gaze fixed on the tarmac as if awaiting his messiah. But I knew the truth. Even if Jennie made it, we would never reach home. When he’d struck the wall with that hammer, I’d heard a faint but distinct click from the wing’s assembly. I’d seen a case like it in a maintenance manual once. A screw, loosened by metal fatigue. At thirty thousand feet, the stress would be enough to tear the plane apart. And now, that screw was gone. Even if we took off this very second, this plane wouldn’t survive the climb. The atmosphere in the cabin grew thick with despair. Some passengers wept softly, while others gripped their armrests, their knuckles white. A few younger men glared at Ethan, held back only by the hammer in his hand. “Damn it, we’re all going to die if we keep waiting!” one man finally roared. Ethan sneered, slamming the hammer against the bulkhead again. “Then get off the plane if you don’t want to wait!” Just then, the sharp click-clack of high heels echoed from the tarmac. “Ethan! I’m here!” Jennie ran toward us, her cheeks flushed and her long hair flying behind her. She was laden with bulging designer shopping bags, her lips painted with fresh Chanel lipstick, her makeup as flawless as if she were heading to a gala. Ethan’s face lit up. He dropped the hammer and rushed to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Jennie! You made it!” Jennie playfully tapped his chest. “Phew, I almost didn’t! Good thing I’m a fast runner.” She proudly showed off her haul, her eyes scanning the cabin until they landed on me. A provocative smile touched her lips. Ethan followed her gaze. His expression tightened for a moment before softening again. “Lynn, Jennie’s here. We can take off now.” But the man in glasses exploded. “Are you kidding me? What the hell is with all those bags of designer makeup?” he yelled. “You made us risk our lives so she could steal more cosmetics?!” His accusation drew a chorus of angry glares. Ethan snatched the hammer from the floor and pointed it menacingly at him. “Say one more word, and I swear I’ll crack your skull open.” The cabin fell silent again, the only sound the ragged, furious breathing of the man in glasses. Jennie hid behind Ethan, flashing a triumphant smirk at the passengers and deliberately shaking her shopping bags. As they passed me, she leaned in close to Ethan’s chest and whispered, just loud enough for me to hear, “Thanks for waiting for me, Lynn.” I said nothing. I just watched the armed figures sprinting toward us from across the airfield. The moment the cabin door sealed shut, a burst of automatic gunfire erupted outside. “The rebels are here!” someone screamed. 3 A torrent of furious curses exploded through the cabin. “Are you happy now, Ethan?!” the man in glasses roared, pointing at the rebels swarming the runway outside the window. “We’re all going to die here because we had to wait for her!” A mother clutching her child began to sob. “My baby is only three… and for what? So she could loot some makeup…” Jennie’s eyes immediately filled with tears. She shrank into Ethan’s arms, her voice trembling. “It’s not my fault… I was just getting some things to donate to the orphans back home…” Ethan hugged her protectively. “Exactly. Jennie is the kindest person I know. How dare you blame her?” Chaos reigned. Some people were crying hysterically into their hands, others frantically texting loved ones. The shouts of the rebels and the sporadic crack of gunfire were now terrifyingly close. I looked at the panicked faces around me and lowered my voice. “The plane is too big a target. We have to move to the nearby bomb shelter.” The man in glasses asked desperately, “But how do we get out there? It’s swarming with rebels!” I pointed to the maintenance access hatch below the main ramp. “This leads directly to a service tunnel. It’s our way to the shelter.” I quickly unlatched the hatch. “Everyone, follow me. And stay quiet.” The passengers scrambled out, one by one. Only Jennie remained, looking at the dark opening with disgust. “It’s so dirty down there… My new dress…” Ethan immediately soothed her. “Don’t worry, Jennie. I’ll carry you.” I gave the pair a cold look before turning and leading the others into the tunnel. Behind me, I heard Dr. Finch’s weak cough. “Lynn, my old bones might not make it…” “Don’t worry, Doctor,” I said, helping him steady himself. “Your research is vital to our country. I will get you home safely.” The tunnel was damp and dark, the distant shouts of rebels echoing ominously. We moved in silence, holding our breath, until we finally reached the bomb shelter. “Wait here,” I whispered. “I’ve already contacted the military. They’ll be here within two hours.” A collective sigh of relief filled the room as people found places to sit. But just then, a thick, cloying cloud of perfume filled the enclosed space. “What’s that smell?” the man in glasses asked, his head snapping up. Jennie was spritzing herself liberally with a bottle of Chanel No. 5. “It stinks in here,” she whined. “What’s wrong with a little perfume?” Suddenly, Dr. Finch began to cough violently, his face turning deathly pale. “Stop… please, stop… I’m allergic…” I lunged forward and snatched the bottle from her, but it was too late. Dr. Finch was struggling to breathe, his lips already turning blue. “You idiot!” the man in glasses screamed. “If anything happens to Dr. Finch, you’ll be a traitor to the nation!” 4 Jennie cowered behind Ethan. “I didn’t know… Why is everyone always picking on me?” Ethan shielded her, roaring at the others, “She didn’t do it on purpose! Why are you all bullying her like this?” He ignored the crowd’s fury and guided Jennie to a corner. I had no time for them. I ordered everyone to help me search for allergy medication for the doctor. Just as I found the auto-injector in the first-aid kit and was about to hand it to Dr. Finch, I heard Jennie’s delicate voice. “Achoo… Ethan, I think… I think I’m having an allergic reaction too.” My head whipped around. Jennie was clutching her chest, her face pale, leaning against Ethan as if she were about to faint. “Jennie! What’s wrong?” Ethan cried, catching her in his arms. He turned and yelled at me, “Get the medicine over here! Jennie can’t breathe!” Dr. Finch was now on the verge of collapse, his fingers clawing at his chest. “No!” I refused sharply, moving toward the doctor. “This is Dr. Finch’s life-saving medication!” But Ethan lunged, snatching the injector from my hand. The force of his shove sent me staggering back against the wall. I stared at him in disbelief. “He’s going into anaphylactic shock! You know he’s the primary objective of this evacuation!” Ethan hesitated for a fraction of a second, then shoved the injector into Jennie’s hand. “He’s an old man, he was going to die soon anyway,” he sneered. “Is his life more precious than Jennie’s?” The shelter erupted in shocked gasps. The man in glasses was the first to react. “Ethan! Dr. Finch is a national treasure! You’re sacrificing him for some makeup-stealing whore—” “Shut up!” Ethan swung the hammer, knocking the man to the ground. He glared at the horrified onlookers. “Anyone else comes near, and I’ll kill them!” Leaning weakly against the wall, Jennie shot me a triumphant smirk. She took the injector and, with Ethan holding a water bottle for her, calmly administered the dose. By now, Dr. Finch had collapsed, his face a ghastly shade of purple, a terrible wheezing sound rattling in his throat. The man in glasses scrambled to his side, shouting at me, “Captain! Do something!” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. It was just like my past life. Ethan always put Jennie first, no matter who else had to die. My phone vibrated softly in my pocket. I glanced at the screen, and the tension in my face eased slightly. I leaned toward the man in glasses and whispered, “Don’t worry. Help is on the way.” The very first thing I did after being reborn was send an emergency distress signal to the military. As if on cue, the sound of heavy footsteps and metallic clanking echoed from outside the shelter door. “It’s the army!” the man in glasses exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. “We’re saved!” Blinding beams of light cut through the darkness as fully armed special forces soldiers secured the entrance. The lead officer removed his night-vision goggles, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “Where is Dr. Finch? My orders are to prioritize his evacuation.” Every head turned toward the corner where the old man lay, barely breathing. The officer’s face contorted in fury. He was at Dr. Finch’s side in an instant. “Doctor!” he roared, his voice echoing in the silent shelter. “Who did this?!”

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1 The day before my wedding, I went to my fiancé’s office to surprise him with lunch. What I found instead was Lily Vance—the woman who’d left him for being poor and gone abroad—draped across his lap. When she saw me, Lily deliberately tightened her arms around Leo’s neck. “So you’re the little social climber who just plays cards all day? Leo is a celebrated architect now. You’re not in his league.” I ignored her and looked straight at Leo. “Are you calling off the wedding?” My fiancé’s face was a mask of cold indifference. “I need a partner in my career, Stella, not a common woman who only knows how to gossip over a card game.” He sneered. “The stench of the common world on you… it makes me sick.” I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just went back to the private club and, as usual, sat down with my regular partners for a game of Bridge. Leo was right. My daily routine was playing cards. What he didn’t know was that the women at my table held his entire future in their hands. I picked up a card, the ace of spades, and played it with a calm, deliberate motion. “Mrs. Kingston,” I said, my voice light, “that downtown design project your husband is overseeing? Don’t give it to Leo. I have someone better.” … Across the table, Mrs. Kingston paused, her hand hovering over a card. She looked up at me, not with a question in her eyes, but with complete understanding. “Of course, dear. Whatever you say.” She picked up her phone and stepped away from the table. Her voice was low but every word was crystal clear. “Henry, darling? About that downtown project… put it on hold. Yes, replace Leo. Stella has a more suitable candidate.” She hung up and returned to her seat as if she had just instructed her maid to change the dinner menu. My face was impassive. I continued to draw and play my cards as if nothing had happened. Less than ten minutes later, Leo’s call came through. I declined, hung up, and blocked his number. The movements were a single, fluid motion. Half an hour later, the club door was thrown open with such force that it shuddered on its hinges. Leo stood there, panting, his eyes bloodshot, glaring at me like a cornered animal. Lily Vance was clinging to his arm, the picture of fragile innocence, but her eyes glittered with triumph and provocation. Leo stormed over to my table, swept the cards into a pile, and slammed them to the floor. “Stella! The Kingston project is dead! Was this your doing?!” The sharp clatter of the cards was jarring in the quiet room. Mrs. Kingston’s brow furrowed, her expression turning to ice. “Mr. Armstrong, you are not welcome here. Please leave.” Leo completely ignored her, his rage focused solely on me. “Have you had your fun? Don’t play dumb with me! I know you went crying to the Kingstons! Do you have any idea how many nights I spent on that project, how many proposals I drew up? And you destroy it all just because I chose Lily?” Lily immediately gave his sleeve a timid tug, her voice just loud enough for the table to hear. “Leo, darling, don’t be like that. It couldn’t possibly have been Stella. She doesn’t have that kind of influence. I’m sure it was just a last-minute procedural change, or maybe one of your competitors sabotaged you. You shouldn’t blame an innocent person.” Her words were placating, but her body pressed closer to his, staking her claim. At her “reminder,” the suspicion in Leo’s eyes wavered. That’s right. Stella was just a woman who kept rich wives company at the card table. How could she possibly have the power to kill a project that Mr. Kingston himself had approved? He’d much rather believe it was a rival. His gaze shifted from suspicion to pure contempt and disgust. “Get a grip, Stella! Look at yourself. What can you do besides wait on these wealthy women? The cheapness clinging to you is utterly repulsive!” “I need a partner like Lily, someone who can help me with my career, with my connections! Not some common woman who only knows how to play cards!” “Do you think I’m finished without the Kingston project? Let me tell you something. Without me, you are the one who has nothing!” He spat his final words, grabbed Lily’s hand, and stormed out as if fleeing something foul. The club was silent. Mrs. Kingston handed me a cup of tea. “Stella, don’t waste your anger on a man like that.” I shook my head and gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. Across from me, Mrs. Albright played a card with a slow, deliberate hand. “The lead architect for the new downtown redevelopment project hasn’t been chosen yet,” she said casually. “The requirements aren’t steep. Just a clean record… and impeccable character.” An idea sparked in my mind. I picked up a card, looked toward the door where Leo had disappeared, and placed it gently on the table. “And… game,” I said. “A clean sweep.” After they left, Leo and Lily convinced themselves the Kingston project was a fluke, a bit of sabotage from a competitor. They pinned all their hopes on the new downtown redevelopment project. Lily pulled strings with her father and managed to secure Leo a coveted presentation slot. That night, Leo sent me a text. It was a photo of him with a well-known city official. [See this, Stella? This is where I belong.] [The lead designer role for the redevelopment is mine.] [If you hadn’t been so dramatic, that could be you standing next to me. Too bad. Not your fate.] I looked at the boastful message, found it laughable, and deleted it. The next day, at the card table. I brought it up casually with Mrs. Albright. “Mrs. Albright, I heard there’s an architect named Leo Armstrong in the running for the redevelopment project?” Mrs. Albright nodded, her expression neutral. “Yes, I believe so. His proposal was decent. A bit clever.” I smiled, as if we were just making small talk. “He was a senior of mine in college. He was always so talented. His graduation project even won the Gold Medal.” I paused, then added, “But I heard a rumor later… that the award-winning design was actually plagiarized from his girlfriend at the time. The poor girl was so foolish. She covered the whole thing up to protect his future.” Mrs. Albright’s hand slowed as she reached for a card. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes darkened as she glanced at me. On the day of the presentations, I went to the city hall. I had just found a seat in the audience when Lily appeared. She looked down her nose at me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Common women belong in their card clubs. A place like this is above your station.” I didn’t look up, just calmly smoothed the hem of my dress. “I came to see how something I threw away is being treated like a treasure.” Lily’s face tightened. She shot me a hateful glare and stalked off. Leo, dressed in a sharp designer suit, was on stage, speaking eloquently. His proposal was impressive, drawing rounds of applause. When he finished, he made a point of looking in my direction, his eyes filled with a mixture of contempt and triumph. Lily sat in the section reserved for family, smiling like the lady of the manor. The judges on the panel were whispering among themselves, clearly pleased with his work. The host was already raising the microphone to announce the decision. “Ladies and gentlemen, regarding Mr. Armstrong’s proposal, the committee is in unanimous agreement that…” Just then, Director Albright—Mrs. Albright’s husband—who was seated on the panel, raised his hand. “One moment.” Every eye in the auditorium turned to him. Director Albright held up a file. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried through the silent hall. “Mr. Armstrong, behind this stunning proposal of yours, I have just one question.” “Why does the core design concept of your graduation project, ‘Dream Weaver,’ bear such a striking resemblance to a publicly presented thesis by a Ms. Stella Ross, titled ‘Lightspire’?” The smile froze on Leo’s face. He looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, his mind a complete blank. Director Albright projected a side-by-side comparison of the two designs onto the massive screen behind the stage. The overlapping sections were highlighted in red. It was damning. “We had several industry experts conduct an independent analysis. The conclusion is that your work constitutes plagiarism of over ninety percent.” “For an architect, academic integrity is the foundation. For a civic project, the designer’s character is the minimum requirement.” The hall erupted in gasps and murmurs. Leo’s face was ashen. He stood trembling on the stage, a clown stripped bare for all to see. His eligibility was revoked on the spot. The plagiarism scandal spread through the industry like a plague. Reeling from one blow after another, his reputation in tatters, Leo finally started to suspect I was behind it. But he had no proof, and he couldn’t bring himself to believe I wielded that kind of power. All he could do was call me, ranting and raving like a madman. Lily, however, refused to believe it. She was convinced I was a brainless twit. “Leo, darling, don’t overthink it. Stella isn’t smart enough for that.” “It has to be your jealous rivals, trying to drag you down! Don’t worry, I’ll help you!” To salvage Leo’s crumbling reputation, Lily threw a lavish gala for the city’s top architects. She wanted to use the event to show everyone that Leo was still a brilliant genius, with her and her family’s backing. I received an invitation, embossed in gold foil. It felt like a declaration of war. I knew it was a trap. At the gala, architects who knew Leo saw me and shot me looks of pity and disdain, quickly turning away. Lily, in a pristine white evening gown, moved through the crowd like a proud peacock. When she saw me, a flicker of malice crossed her face, as if she were plotting something. She walked toward me, a glass of red wine in hand. As she got close, her ankle “twisted,” and the entire glass of wine splashed across my dress. The crimson liquid was a garish stain on my cream-colored gown. “Oh my goodness, Stella, I am so, so sorry!” she cried out, her voice loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “It was an accident! Are you alright? I’m just so clumsy.” Before I could say a word, Leo rushed over, pulling Lily behind him protectively. He scowled at me, his face a mask of impatience and disgust. “Stella, what the hell is your problem? You follow us here, and now you’re trying to hurt Lily?” “I remember how you begged your distant, business-owning relative to help me get started. Is this how you repay me? With these cheap, pathetic games of revenge?” With that one statement, he branded me a bitter, obsessive ex. People around us began to whisper. “So that’s her. I heard she’s the one who reported him for plagiarism.” “If she can’t have him, she’ll destroy him. That woman is manipulative.” “Look at what she’s wearing. Looks like it’s from a discount rack. How did she even get in here?” The whispers were like needles, pricking at me from all sides. The same suffocating feeling from my past life—of being isolated and misunderstood by everyone—closed in around me. I looked at the perfectly synchronized performance of the wretched pair before me. I saw the false concern on their faces, hiding their smug satisfaction. I knew I had to make them pay. I smiled brightly at Lily. Then I took out my phone and, right in front of them, made a call. “Mrs. Zhang, are you awake? I’ve run into a bit of a situation.” Mrs. Zhang’s cheerful voice came through the line. “Not at all, dear. What’s going on? Take your time.” I glanced at Lily, whose face had instantly changed, and kept my voice just loud enough for those nearby to hear. “Oh, it’s nothing major. I was just wondering, is your husband still investigating Vance Holdings for tax evasion?” I paused. “I heard the chairman of Vance Holdings is Lily Vance’s father. If the evidence is solid, I imagine that’s enough for a ten-to-fifteen-year sentence, wouldn’t you say?” The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds. “Stella. Thank you for the tip. I know what to do.” I hung up, and with a small smile, raised my phone in a little toast to a pale, trembling Lily.

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1 After seven secret years, I was pregnant with the Will family heir. But Graham still hadn’t married me—because I was the city’s shame: an illegitimate daughter. For me, he’d defied his family, surrendered 40% of his controlling stake, and taken a reckless wager: to earn the company ten billion dollars before our child was born. The impossible deal shocked everyone. They all believed his love was absolute. At six months, I went to his office with my ultrasound. Outside, I saw him hand a major client to his biggest rival. His friend Leo confronted him. “Nora’s due soon, and you’re giving away a billion-dollar deal? You’ll lose the wager—you’ll never marry her!” After a silence, Graham’s voice cut clear. “Win or lose, I’m still the Will heir. What’s there to fear? She’ll stay by my side. Who would dare speak against her?” His tone hardened. “But Rosalind was there for me during Nora’s three years abroad. She nearly died for me. The only reason she survives the Vance family viper’s nest is the marriage contract I gave her.” “If I actually win this wager… what happens to Rosalind?” Rosalind Vance. My half-sister. The deepest shadow of my life. I stared at the ultrasound, the words “perfectly healthy” blurring. After a moment, I raised my hand and knocked. … Leo Grant, Graham’s best friend, saw me and immediately broke into a warm smile. “Nora! You’re here! Come on in, sit down. How was the check-up?” “Graham, I’m serious, man,” he said, turning to my fiancé. “Nora’s getting bigger by the day, and you know every eye in the city is on you two. You need to hurry up! I heard that Caden Hayes has been asking around about Nora lately.” Leo shot Graham a meaningful look. “You’ve gotta feel the heat, man. Pay attention, you hear me?” I could tell Leo was trying to nudge Graham, to remind him what was at stake. In this treacherous world of ours, there weren’t many people who genuinely wished me well. He was one of them. I held my breath, waiting for Graham’s reaction. “Is that so?” Those three words, delivered so lightly, were like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. That’s it? Seven years ago, or even just before I went abroad, the mere mention of another man near me would have sent him into a jealous fit. I’ll never forget the time he’d jumped in front of me to fend off a group of thugs. He’d gotten bruised and cut, but he’d still looked at me with that stubborn intensity and said, “Nora Lane, the only man who stands by your side is me.” It wasn’t until much later that I learned those thugs never bothered me again because Caden Hayes had quietly dealt with them. But at that moment, Graham had been the only light in my gray world. Three years abroad, and everything had changed. The name ‘Rosalind,’ spoken so easily from his lips, felt like a slap across my face, shattering every fantasy I’d ever held. Leo noticed the change in my expression and quickly tried to smooth things over. “Nora, how were the results?” “Everything’s fine.” I handed the report to Graham, adding an explanation. “Caden and I are old friends. He looked out for me a lot when I was overseas.” Graham just waved it off. “I know. My Nora only has room in her heart for me. What’s a Caden Hayes to worry about?” I forced a smile, unable to hide the bitterness. In our relationship, Graham had always been supremely confident. I looked at him, finally asking the question that had been swirling in my mind for weeks. “How is the project coming along?” “The baby is already six months.” Graham rubbed his temples, a perfectly measured look of apology on his face. “Nora, I’m sorry. This time… I might have to disappoint you again.” “I’ll try harder next time, okay?” He reached for my hand, but I shifted slightly, and his fingers brushed against empty air. If I hadn’t overheard, who would have guessed that this project, already in the bag, was one he had deliberately let slip away? How many “next times” had there been in these seven years? It wasn’t the first time he’d had to fight for us. He’d won the bid for a fiercely contested piece of land on the east side just so the family would allow him to fly overseas to see me for a single day. He’d secured a major international subsidiary just to get their nod of approval for us to officially date. Every step forward was treated like a gift from the gods. Each one required a monumental effort from him and my boundless gratitude. Yet, between him and Rosalind, these insurmountable obstacles seemed to never exist. Their engagement was public knowledge, a smooth and celebrated affair. The year I first went abroad, I had secretly rejoiced, thinking the “Vance daughter” everyone was talking about was me. Was it all wrong simply because I was an illegitimate child, a secret not meant for the light of day? “If this project fails, I’ll likely lose the shares I currently hold in the company.” His eyes held a pleading look, a strategic retreat. “Nora, if I have nothing left, you won’t leave me, will you?” There he was again, using my guilt and my sympathy to chain me to him. “No,” I heard myself say, my voice flat. Graham breathed a sigh of relief, his tone firming up again. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep fighting the family for the next opportunity.” His gaze fell to my stomach. “It just means you’ll have to go through this alone for a little while. You’ll have to deliver our baby first.” I lowered my eyes, hiding the storm of emotions inside me. Just like countless times before, I obediently agreed. “Okay. I know. I don’t mind.” I was never the type to press for answers or make a scene. Just then, my phone rang. It was my father. “Come home for dinner tonight. It’s your sister Rosalind’s birthday. The whole family will be here. You have to come.” After hanging up, I told Graham I had to go. I couldn’t stand to be in that room a moment longer. But for some reason, I didn’t leave immediately. From inside the office, I heard Graham’s voice again. “Have that pink diamond from the auction house prepared. Make sure it’s wrapped beautifully and send it over to the Vances.” Leo exploded. “Are you fucking serious? You’re really going through with marrying Rosalind Vance? A pink diamond? What about Nora and the baby? You know those two sisters are like fire and ice!” “If Nora can’t handle it and runs off, let’s see how much you regret it then!” My heart stopped. Then came Graham’s voice, cold and sharp enough to cut through bone. “Once the baby is born, she’ll be tied to me. With that connection, even with Rosalind in the picture, Nora will never leave.” “Besides, it’s a sham marriage. What does it matter? Nora isn’t the type to make a fuss.” I leaned against the wall, slowly pulling myself upright. A faint, sharp pain twisted in my abdomen, making it hard to breathe. I placed a hand over the warmth of my belly. And then, a single, crystal-clear thought cut through all my carefully constructed nonchalance. This baby… I couldn’t keep it. My steps were unsteady as I arrived at the Vance family home. “Nora, you’re here! Oh, let me see, has the baby been behaving?” Rosalind greeted me with a cloying sweetness, her hand reaching for my stomach. Her circle of socialite friends immediately swarmed around us like a flock of chattering birds. “Oh, Rosalind, this baby will definitely be closest to you! It’ll probably say ‘mama’ to you first!” “Exactly! Graham even gave Rosalind the marriage contract. She’s the official Mrs. Will. Who else would the baby be close to?” Their words confirmed everything I had overheard. There really was a marriage contract. Then, another voice dropped a bombshell. “And did you hear? I think Rosalind saved Graham’s life once! It’s such a shame her health is so poor. The doctors say it’ll be very difficult for her to have children of her own. So tragic.” “Wait… could it be that this Nora girl, brought back from the countryside and getting pregnant out of wedlock… was just meant to be a surrogate for Rosalind?” That one sentence opened the floodgates of all my doubts. So, this child in my belly… what was it to them? A gift prepared for Rosalind? An icy chill shot through my body, and I felt frozen to the spot. Just then, Graham arrived. His assistant followed, carrying a gift box containing a pink diamond the size of a small fist. Gasps of awe filled the room. Graham’s voice was calm. “Happy birthday, Rosalind.” What a gift. I looked down at the delicate necklace I was wearing. It also had a pink diamond pendant, but it was no bigger than a grain of rice. It was an anniversary gift from him a few weeks ago. It suits you perfectly, he had said. So, in his heart, only Rosalind was worthy of a priceless treasure. One of the girls beside Rosalind laughed openly. “That’s a nice little thing around Nora’s neck, but the size…” “Well, it’s not surprising. Given her background, an illegitimate girl is lucky to wear a diamond at all.” Illegitimate. Again. If it hadn’t been for Rosalind’s mother, crashing my own mother’s wedding with a baby in her arms, my mother never would have suffered the shock that led to her dying in childbirth. I never would have been born without a mother. For seventeen years, I was the “wild child” living with my grandmother, never once experiencing the warmth or privilege of the Vance family. How dare they mock me with my own scars? Graham noticed my pale face and came over, pulling a translucent green jade bracelet from his pocket. “It was my grandmother’s. For good luck and protection.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t listen to them. There’s nothing between Rosalind and me. I only see her as a sister.” A sister? Right. I was too exhausted to even question him. I pulled my hand away. “I’m a little tired. I’m going upstairs to rest.” My room opened onto a garden, and I could hear Leo and a few of Graham’s other friends confronting Rosalind below. “Rosalind, don’t you get it? Graham’s feelings for you are just a mix of pity and using your family’s connections.” “Everyone in the city knows who he really loves! It’s Nora!” “Are you that desperate? Nora, your sister, is about to give birth! Have some decency!” The argument grew heated. Suddenly, Graham’s voice cut through, fiercely defending Rosalind. “That’s enough! Who said no one wants Rosalind?” In that instant, any shred of hope I had left crumbled to dust. My vision blurred with tears as I instinctively unlocked my phone. “Hello, Doctor? I need to schedule a procedure.” I was so thin that even after the procedure, no one could tell I’d lost the baby. When I stumbled out of the recovery room, I ran right into Caden Hayes. He didn’t seem to notice anything was different. “Nora?” He walked over. “What are you doing here? You look terrible.” I managed a weak smile and, without a second of hesitation, told him the truth. “An abortion.” Caden’s pupils contracted, a flash of fury crossing his face before he suppressed it. “You fool. I told you Graham Will was no good.” I smiled faintly. “You knew about him and Rosalind, didn’t you?” Caden looked away, flustered. “I heard whispers, back when you were overseas. But I didn’t think you would have believed me even if I told you.” He was right. Back then, blinded by seven years of love, I would have automatically blocked out anything negative about Graham. “Nora, I won’t tell anyone about this,” Caden said as I was leaving. He grabbed my arm. “What I asked you seven years ago… are you willing to reconsider?” For a moment, the man standing before me wasn’t the flashy, spoiled heir I knew. He was the sun-drenched boy from our small town who would ride his bike for ten miles in the summer heat just to buy me a milk tea. But I didn’t answer. Right now, I didn’t feel I had the right. That night, I didn’t go back to the apartment I shared with Graham. I went to the Vance house instead. As I passed the study, I overheard Rosalind and her mother plotting. “We have to strike before that baby is born! We can’t let her use the child to gain power, just like we dealt with her short-lived mother…” “Rosalind, you can’t hesitate any longer!” I froze outside the door, my limbs weak. I was powerless against them, especially now that Rosalind held a position in the family company. My only comfort was that Graham was leaving on a business trip soon. I could recover in peace at our apartment. Three months later, Graham returned. His eyes instinctively went to my stomach, which should have been round and full. “You look like you’ve lost weight. Not eating well?” I quietly agreed. He didn’t press the issue, instead pushing several expensive gift boxes toward me. I had no interest in opening them. They would be the usual jewels and limited-edition handbags—opulent but thoughtless. He had never once tried to understand what I truly wanted. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” Graham sat down, his voice serious. “Nora, there’s something you need to know.” “The Vance family is a threat to the baby now, and so is my own family. This is the first Will grandchild, after all.” “I’ve arranged a villa for you overseas. You can go there and wait for the birth in peace. Once the baby is born safely, I’ll bring you back.” I listened silently, my heart numb. It was as if he were confirming my darkest fears. Then, he delivered the final blow. “There’s one other thing. The company is putting a lot of pressure on me regarding Rosalind.” “She needs the title of ‘Mrs. Will’ to secure her position on the board. So, I agreed… we’ll have a wedding soon.” He quickly added, his voice urgent, “It’s just an act! It’s for show. We won’t file any legal papers.” “Once this all blows over, I’ll give you everything you deserve.” “Nora, you understand, don’t you? It’s just a strategic move.” I looked up, trying to find a trace of love in his eyes. All I saw was my own reflection, as if I were the only person in his world. But why did the words from someone who claimed to love me cut so deep? “Okay. I’ll do whatever you say.” My consent clearly relieved him. “Nora, I knew you’d understand! We’re going to be the happiest family of three!” That night, while Graham was in the shower, I lay in bed and composed a text. [Caden, about your offer… I’ve thought about it. Let’s meet and talk.] The next morning, I woke to a heavy sense of pressure. I opened my eyes to see Graham standing over me, holding my phone. The screen was on, displaying my text exchange with Caden. I didn’t know how much he’d seen. I had never contacted Caden before, so that one message was it. I didn’t know what he might have replied. I had fallen asleep right after sending it, never imagining Graham would decide to check my phone. His face was a thundercloud. “Nora, when did you start talking to Caden Hayes?” “And what are these pills? Why were you at the OB-GYN clinic?”

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