I crashed my ex-boyfriend’s wedding. As everyone gathered around for the cake cutting, I walked up to him, leaned in, and whispered a single sentence in his ear. He whipped around, the cake knife still in his hand, and plunged it into his bride’s chest. One stab, two stabs, three… He stabbed her eighteen times, like he was venting a lifetime of rage. Guests scrambled, screaming in terror. The “Red Wedding” dominated the news cycle for weeks. Everyone wanted to know what happened. But neither Cole nor I said a word. It was our unspoken pact. The police investigated for months but found zero motive and zero evidence of incitement. They had no choice but to declare him legally insane. He spent the next five years in a psychiatric hospital. The day Cole was released just happened to be his parents’ 70th birthday bash. And once again, I showed up uninvited. I walked up to a fully recovered Cole and whispered the exact same sentence in his ear… 1 “Cole hasn’t spoken to you in three years. Why can’t you let it go? Are you here to object or something?” I stood there in a black dress, looking like a grim reaper at Cole’s big day. Cole’s eyes were cold, scanning me like I was a stranger he’d never met. His gaze lingered for a second, then he turned back to whisper sweet nothings to his bride. The guests started whispering, their eyes darting between me and the groom. Cole’s parents marched over, faces purple with rage. “We didn’t send you an invite. If you know what’s good for you, get out. Don’t make a scene!” But the bride, ever the gracious saint, stepped forward. “We all know each other. I’m sure Fiona just came to wish us well.” Cole’s parents couldn’t argue with their new daughter-in-law, so they shoved me to a table in the very back corner. The awkwardness passed quickly. The party resumed, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. It was cake-cutting time. The crowd surged toward the couple. In the chaos, I was pushed right next to Cole. His arm was around his bride’s waist, a loving smile plastered on his face. I seized the moment. I leaned in and whispered in his ear. His smile froze. His eyes shifted from gentle to monstrous, like something terrifying had just shattered his soul. He gripped the cake knife and drove it straight into the bride’s heart. She didn’t even have time to scream before blood soaked her white dress. The guests screamed, scattering like roaches. The flowers, the tablecloths, even the sky seemed to turn red. I stood there calmly, watching him kill. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t flinch. Until the sirens cut through the chaos. 2 Cole and I were interrogated in separate rooms. “What did you say to him?” Detective Miller slammed his hand on the table, barely containing his anger. “Why did he suddenly snap and butcher his own bride?” I lifted my eyelids slightly, my expression flat. I didn’t look like someone who had just witnessed a murder. “I don’t know.” Miller exploded. “How can you not know? Because of one sentence from you, an innocent woman is dead!” “We checked. Cole and the victim, Sarah, had a great relationship. No fights, nothing. If you hadn’t shown up, why would he turn into a monster?” I sneered. “Detective, do my words have magical powers? Do you really believe Cole killed his wife just because I whispered something?” Miller choked. Obviously, he didn’t believe in voodoo either. They’d done their homework. They knew Cole and I hadn’t seen each other in three years. Zero contact. Cole was a model citizen. Good grades, good job, volunteered at the animal shelter. He loved stray cats and dogs. He had zero history of violence. They couldn’t figure out why he snapped, so they pinned it on my whisper. “So what did you say to him? You can at least tell us that.” I looked him dead in the eye. “If you can prove my words caused the murder, I’ll tell you.” “Otherwise, I’m only stating what I saw.” “But you probably don’t need that. You have the tapes. Watch them yourself.” “You…” Miller’s face turned red. He gritted his teeth, looking like he wanted to throttle me, but eventually just stormed out of the room. Meanwhile, in the other interrogation room, Cole was in worse shape. He sat in the chair, eyes empty, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. No matter what Miller asked, he didn’t speak. It was like he had forgotten how. 3 As soon as I walked out of the station, Cole’s and Sarah’s parents swarmed me like vultures. “Fiona! What did you say to him?!” Cole’s mom screeched, her hand landing a sharp slap across my face. “I always knew you were trash. You never deserved my son.” “Now that you’re broken up, why can’t you let him go? Why do you have to ruin his life?” Even though Cole held the knife, Sarah’s parents poured all their hate onto me. Sarah’s mom was sobbing, tears streaming down her pale face. She grabbed my collar, shaking me. “Our Sarah was so kind. She never hurt anyone. Why did you make Cole kill her?” Sarah’s dad stood by, fists clenched white. “Cole broke up with you voluntarily! It had nothing to do with my daughter! Why take it out on her?” Let them scream. Let them curse. I stood there like a statue, feeling nothing. After that, reporters camped on my lawn, demanding answers. Some bored billionaire even offered a huge bounty for the “magic words” that could make a man kill. But no matter the threats or bribes, I kept my mouth shut. Six months passed. The police still couldn’t find a motive or proof of incitement. They had to settle for an insanity plea. The Cole family grabbed onto this lifeline. They spent their fortune on lawyers. They pulled every string they had. Finally, after a long legal battle, they got him committed to a mental institution instead of prison. To pay for his treatment and care, Cole’s parents sold their business. They rented a tiny apartment near the hospital and dedicated their lives to him. For five years, they blocked every attempt I made to visit. My entire interaction with Cole was limited to that one sentence at the wedding. Thanks to his family’s relentless efforts, Cole was finally declared “cured” and released after five years. The day he got out happened to be his parents’ 70th birthday. Double celebration. Even though the family fortune was gone, they took out loans to throw a massive banquet to celebrate their son’s rebirth. 4 I showed up in the same black dress from five years ago. The unwanted guest at the feast. Everyone froze. The lively hall turned dead silent. Cole’s mom couldn’t keep up the facade. Her smile cracked. She rushed over, grabbing my arm to drag me out. “You jinx! Why are you haunting us like a ghost?” “Get out! Or I won’t be polite!” Even though they were broke, Cole’s parents wanted to prove to the world that their son was normal again. They invited every VIP they still knew. They wanted to wash away the stain of the past. But seeing me shattered their illusion instantly. “Mrs. Stone, relax. I’m just here to celebrate the big day and Cole’s recovery.” I kept that ambiguous half-smile on my face as I handed over a gift box. She slapped it out of my hands like it was a bomb. “We don’t want your trash! Who knows what you put in there!” “Take your garbage and get the hell out!” There were reporters there, smelling blood in the water. One shouted out: “Mrs. Stone, are you scared because Cole isn’t actually cured?” “Are you afraid he’s gonna grab a knife again?” Cole’s mom frowned, forcing a smile. “Of course not. The doctors said Cole is fully recovered. He’s not dangerous.” “But this woman is evil. Who knows what she’ll say to trigger my son!” The reporter sneered. “If one sentence is enough to make him kill, he belongs in a cage, not at a party.” His words hit her like a hammer. She was speechless. I picked up the gift box, dusted it off, and handed it to her again. This time, she didn’t refuse. She took it with shaking hands, muttering a dark “thank you.” 5 She shoved me to the back table again. She and her husband glued themselves to Cole, terrified we’d make contact. When the toasts began, the crowd surged toward the main table. Cole’s parents got distracted by well-wishers, laughing and drinking. They relaxed. They didn’t see me raising my glass, moving closer to Cole. When it was my turn to toast, I leaned in and whispered the same sentence from three years ago. Cole’s face changed instantly. He grabbed a carving knife from the table, moving faster than thought, and plunged it into his mother’s stomach. Blood sprayed everywhere. His mother’s eyes bulged in disbelief as she slumped to the floor. “Cole is killing again!” The scream tore through the room. Tables flipped. Glasses shattered. No one dared to step in. His dad tried to stop him. But Cole was in a frenzy. He slashed wildly at his father. His dad fell, arms and legs cut, begging on the floor. “Son… it’s me… it’s Dad…” Cole didn’t hear him. He slit his father’s throat. Blood soaked the carpet. After finishing his father, Cole walked back to his dying mother. Just like with Sarah, he stabbed her eighteen times. Someone called the cops. They arrived quickly. Cole didn’t fight. He let them cuff him. But his relatives turned on me, screaming. “Why aren’t you arresting her?!” “We saw it! She whispered to him, and he snapped!” The crowd joined in. “Yeah! Five years ago, she did the same thing! He killed his wife because of her!” “She’s the real murderer!” Detective Miller was there. He recognized me instantly. “What did you say to him?!” Just like five years ago, I stayed silent. “Three dead bodies, Fiona. Are you still not going to talk?” Suddenly, a kid ran out holding a camcorder, grinning. “I recorded what the lady said!”

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1 After college graduation, my parents suggested I go on a road trip with all the students my family’s foundation had sponsored. Driving through No Man’s Land, the fuel gauges on our three SUVs were hitting empty. That’s when Sarah piped up with a brilliant idea: pour water into the gas tanks. “Just add some water, the gas will last longer,” she chirped. My boyfriend, Liam, smiled and agreed. The other sponsored students nodded along like bobbleheads. I shut it down immediately. Water in the gas tank? That’s a one-way ticket to a wrecked engine. I couldn’t let everyone die out there. I took a hard line, siphoning gas from two vehicles into one, and risked my life driving out alone to get help. When my car ran dry, I hiked for a day and a night until I found a rescue team and brought them back. On the return trip, Sarah claimed I looked down on her. She ran off crying and stumbled straight into a wolf pack. They tore off both her legs. She sobbed that I had led her into the wolves. Liam, furious, threw me out of the car. The wolves tore me apart. Not even a bone was left. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment Sarah suggested watering down the gas. I smiled. “Sure, go ahead. Water makes the car go faster.” “Gas stations water down their fuel anyway. If we add water to the tank, we can definitely save some gas.” Sarah’s voice buzzed in my ear. I pinched my own face. Ouch! I’m reborn? “Zoe, stop being stubborn. Just listen to everyone. Maybe this method can help us get out of No Man’s Land.” Sarah looked at me with wide, fearful eyes, like I was about to eat her. Liam and the other sponsored students stared at me. If I dared refuse Sarah’s suggestion, they’d gang up on me. I’d been through this scenario a thousand times. I smiled. “Sarah, you’re so smart to think of such a great idea.” “Do it. Water in the tank makes it go faster.” Standing nearby, Liam finally gave a satisfied smile. “For once, you actually know your place.” I didn’t want to waste breath on them. My brain was already calculating my escape plan from this wasteland. There were eleven of us in three cars. Originally, I was in the same car as Liam, but Sarah insisted on riding with him. So, I’ve been driving one car solo this whole trip. In my last life, my car had the most gas. To give everyone a fighting chance, I left them all the supplies and drove alone into the endless desert to find help. In this life? I’m not lifting a finger for these idiots. I’m getting myself out. Based on my past life, heading west for sixty miles gets you out of this desert. My tank has enough for forty miles. Luckily, I’ve always been into extreme sports. My stamina is solid. I can hike the remaining twenty miles before dark. The supplies in my car are more than enough. With a detailed plan in mind, I started to relax. Just to be safe, I pulled a watch out of the trunk. It was a birthday gift from him. In my last life, he found this watch where the wolves killed me. He broke down, slapping himself, blaming himself for not telling me sooner that this watch had a satellite GPS. If I had turned it on, he could have found me anywhere. I smirked, fiddled with the settings, and activated the GPS. This time, I hope he finds me. Seeing the luxury watch on my wrist, jealousy flashed in Sarah’s eyes. “Zoe, doesn’t your car have a case of water? Bring it out for us.” My heart sank. They want to use my drinking water to fill their gas tanks? 2 “You have four cases in your car. Why don’t you use yours?” I shot back. Sarah pouted, acting self-righteous. “Zoe, we’re in a desert. Water is precious. You can’t hoard it all for yourself.” I laughed. Just moments ago, she was using bottled water to wash her face. Now water is precious? Liam stepped forward, staring me down. “Bring it out.” His tone left no room for argument. I took a deep breath, suppressing my rage, trying to reason with him. “I bought that water…” “We’re in a crisis, and you’re still talking about ‘yours’ and ‘mine’?” Sarah interrupted, looking like a saint. “We need to unite in the face of difficulty. If everyone was as selfish as you, how would we ever get out of here?” The other students immediately chimed in, looking at me with disdain: “You can’t drink a whole case by yourself. Bring it out for distribution.” “Zoe, bring the water! Don’t make us take it.” “Capitalist daughters are so selfish. Not sensible like Sarah at all.” … Selfish? If my family hadn’t sponsored your education, you’d be hauling cement at a construction site right now, not going to college or getting jobs at our company. I finally understood why my parents wanted me to go on this trip. Crisis reveals character. This was their final test. Seeing I wouldn’t budge, they opened my trunk and started unloading supplies. I tried to stop them, but they pinned me to the ground. I watched helplessly as they poured my drinking water into their gas tanks. Without water, driving in this heat would mean dehydration and passing out. “Give me back my water…” I struggled to get up. Sarah grabbed a handful of sand and shoved it into my mouth, snarling, “Shut up! Say another word and I’ll fill your stomach with sand.” I gagged, coughing as sand filled my nose and throat. Snot and tears ran down my face. I was pathetic, lying in the dirt. The students laughed, clutching their stomachs. “Is this the heiress of the Ling family? Looks more like a dog to me! Hahaha…” I gritted my teeth and stood up, raising my hand to slap Sarah. The next second, my wrist was caught in a vice grip. Sarah reacted instantly and slapped me. Smack! Liam froze, instinctively letting go. I collapsed, my face burning. Sarah hid behind Liam, trembling. “I’m sorry, Zoe. You tried to hit me first. It was just self-defense.” Liam reached a hand out to me, looking disgusted. “Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I forced the tears back and looked up into his eyes. “Liam, let’s break up.” “Sarah was just reacting, she didn’t mean it. Why are you throwing a tantrum again?” Liam shielded Sarah, looking at me warily, like I was going to snap his little white flower in half. A wave of exhaustion hit me. Throwing a tantrum? From the moment we started dating, any time I didn’t go along with his decisions, I was “throwing a tantrum.” Not going to the same college as him? Tantrum. Studying abroad? Tantrum. Sarah cries? My tantrum. … “Liam, we’re not on the same path. Breaking up is best for both of us.” Time had corroded the man I loved beyond recognition. When I was twelve, I snuck out to eat street food and saw Liam huddled in a corner washing dishes. His hands moved mechanically, scrubbing greasy plates, but his eyes looked enviously at the students in uniforms. 3 I felt sorry for him and asked my dad to sponsor his education. Liam worked hard, got into high school with top grades, and ended up at my school. At the opening ceremony, a stage light fell. He shielded me with his body, getting a concussion that hospitalized him for a month. Blood blurred his vision, but he smiled and comforted me: “Don’t be scared. I’ll protect you.” Later, we naturally became a couple. I don’t know when his gaze started drifting to Sarah. She was a charity case like him. Sarah, the delicate little flower, always made him feel soft, made him want to take care of her. Eventually, his heart completely tilted her way. I staggered up, snatched my keys from Sarah, and started the car. As I hit the gas, I felt a weight lift. Finally escaping. The next moment, Liam blocked the car with his body. I slammed the brakes, hitting my head on the steering wheel. A flash of pain crossed Liam’s eyes, and his tone softened. “Stop this. It’s dangerous to go alone.” Sarah walked up, linked arms with Liam, and smirked at me. “Zoe, stop with the princess attitude. Your car has the most gas. If you waste it, what about us?” Her words rallied the others. “Yeah, it’s safer if we all stick together.” “Siphon the gas from her car. That gives us more hope.” I sneered. “This car is mine. Why should I give you my gas?” Not just this one. All three cars were mine. One guy shouted indignantly: “We need to work together to get out of the desert. There is no ‘yours’ and ‘mine’ right now.” I rolled my eyes. “Your two cars are full. Where am I supposed to sit? You giving up your seat?” He shut up. Sarah tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Zoe, don’t you love convertibles? You can sit on the roof! It’s way more exciting than a convertible.” Everyone agreed instantly. “Exactly! The roof is great. She loves freedom, let her feel the wind.” “Don’t worry, we have ropes. We can tie you down so you won’t fall.” “Money can’t buy this kind of thrill. Miss Heiress can brag about this when we get back.” Liam sighed. Just as I thought he would shut down this ridiculous idea, his next words froze my blood. “You like extreme sports. You’re physically stronger than them. Sitting on the roof is fine.” I gave up hope. I slammed the gas pedal. Sarah screamed, “She’s running! Grab her!” They swarmed the car. The door was ripped open, and I was dragged out. I thrashed, trying to break free. “Ah!” Sarah cried out, clutching her stomach and crouching on the ground. “Zoe, why did you kick me?” Liam shoved me aside and held her. I froze, instinctively arguing, “I didn’t even touch her…” Sarah shrank into Liam’s arms, looking at me with terror. “Zoe, I shouldn’t have blocked your way. Please don’t kick me again… it hurts…” Liam frowned, his voice cold. “Apologize!” “I didn’t do anything! Why should I apologize?” The others started accusing me: “You were struggling so hard, you definitely kicked Sarah.” “Sarah is so kind, she wouldn’t lie. You have to apologize!” 4 Sarah was sweating, breathing fast. “Sand got into my wound…” She showed Liam a one-inch scratch on her arm. Liam glared at me. “Zoe! Look what you did.” I smirked. “Any later and the wound would have healed itself.” Sarah forced a pained smile. “Zoe, I don’t need an apology. Can I borrow your sun jacket? Just to block the sand, my wound hurts…” My jacket was custom-made, designed by my mom with high-tech fabric. Sun-proof, wind-proof, breathable. You couldn’t buy it. I refused immediately. “I’m allergic to UV rays. No.” Sarah moaned in pain. “Forget it. My life isn’t worth as much as the princess’s delicate skin.” Liam’s face went ice cold. “UV allergy? That’s just an excuse because you don’t want to get tan.” “I’m counting to three. Take it off yourself!” “One, two…” Before three, Liam lost patience. He grabbed my wrist and stripped the jacket off me. I was left in a tank top. My skin, exposed to the brutal sun, started to burn immediately. My face stung. Liam gently put the jacket on Sarah, carefully blowing away the sand on her skin. Looking at them made me sick. I turned to leave. Just as I reached for the car door, Liam grabbed my hand. “It’s just a jacket. Why are you throwing a tantrum again?” “Throwing a tantrum.” Those words lit a fuse. I slapped Liam across the face. Hard. “I don’t throw tantrums. I throw hands!” Liam’s face swelled instantly. Sarah screamed. “Are you crazy? How dare you hit Liam!” Liam pressed his tongue against his cheek, his face dark as a storm. “Zoe, you mess up and refuse to repent. Looks like you need a lesson.” My heart sank. “Since you don’t want the roof, take the bumper.” I gasped. “Liam, are you insane?!” Two muscular guys grabbed me, tied my hands, and tied the other end of the rope to the back of the car. “We’ll let you down when you admit you’re wrong.” With that, he got into the driver’s seat. The engine roared. I was yanked forward. The car picked up speed. I couldn’t keep up. I fell, dragged for dozens of yards. Rocks and sand tore my skin apart. Blood flowed. I screamed in panic. “Stop! Please stop!” Laughter came from inside the car. They couldn’t hear me. The car drifted around a rock. My head slammed into it. Stars exploded in my vision. Blood blurred my eyes. Terror flooded me. Survival instinct took over. I begged, “I’m sorry… I was wrong…” The roar of the engine drowned me out. The car didn’t stop. I was going to die here. My consciousness faded. Through the blur, I saw a helicopter approaching. A man’s desperate voice shouted: “Let her go!” Smoke poured from the two cars ahead. They had to stop. One student yelled: “Bad news! The cars broke down!” 5 Before the helicopter even landed, the man in the pilot’s seat jumped out and sprinted toward me. He cut the rope with a knife and crushed me into a hug, his voice trembling. “Moon, I’m late.” “Brother…” As soon as I spoke, my nose stung and tears poured out. I choked, unable to form a sentence. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.” I shook my head slightly, trying to smile. “I’m happy to see you.” “Ethan! Let go of my girlfriend!” Liam got out of the car. Seeing me in Ethan’s arms, anger washed over his face. Ethan set me down gently, turned, and punched Liam square in the jaw. Liam hit the dirt. Ethan, eyes red, pounded him again and again. The students were stunned. “What are you waiting for? Help him!” Sarah shrieked. They snapped out of it and pulled them apart. Liam wiped blood from his lip, veins popping. “Ethan, you’re a psycho!” Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot, chest heaving. “I’m a psycho? You’re an animal!” “Zoe loves you, and you tried to kill her!” Liam finally saw my state. Covered in wounds, forehead bleeding. His face paled. “I just wanted her to apologize… I didn’t think she’d get hurt this bad…” “Apologize?” Ethan sneered. “Looks like you’re not just stupid, you’re blind.” Liam shot back, “You’re just the Ling family’s adopted son. What right do you have to interfere with me and Zoe?” Ethan’s gaze shifted to me, gentle as water. “From now on, I’ll protect her for the rest of my life.” I froze. I didn’t expect him to say that. Ethan was the son of my dad’s best friend. His parents died in a car crash when he was young, and my dad adopted him. We were close as kids. I followed him around calling him “Brother.” But in high school, he turned cold. He forbade me from calling him Brother. When I started dating Liam, he went abroad. He only came back a year ago. He brought a first aid kit and bandaged me. “Just a quick fix. I’m taking you to the hospital.” I nodded. Sarah whined, “How can we all fit in that tiny helicopter?” She was already planning to grab the best seat for the view. Ethan laughed coldly. “What does your survival have to do with me?” “You!” Sarah fumed. Seeing me on the helicopter, she put on her innocent mask. “Zoe, you wouldn’t be heartless enough to leave us, would you?” I smiled faintly. “Didn’t you say water in the gas tank would get everyone out? I believe in you.” Seeing the smoke pouring from the cars, the students started to panic. “Sarah, didn’t you say water saves gas?” “The engines are blown! What now?!” Sarah’s face twisted. She lost it. “It’s not my car! How should I know? I don’t even have a license! You guys are men, shouldn’t you know cars better than me?” That enraged everyone. “Sarah, what the hell? We trusted you because you’re the top student! Now the cars are wrecked and you’re blaming us?” “I don’t care! You have to get us out of here!” Sarah hid behind Liam, eyes darting with calculation. “Don’t they have a helicopter? Go take it!”

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“One week of silence means we’re done.” My boyfriend, Lucas, used that phrase like a weapon for the entire year we dated. Every time we fought, he’d drop that line and ghost me. Until our last fight. He pulled the same stunt—blocked me on everything and walked away without looking back. In that moment, I realized just how garbage this relationship was. I didn’t spam him with friend requests this time. I didn’t chase him, begging for forgiveness. Instead, I quietly changed my college application preferences and avoided every place I knew he’d be. Seven days flew by. His friends started panicking. “Lucas isn’t even mad anymore, he’s just waiting for you to apologize.” “If you keep acting like this, he’s actually going to dump you, and you’ll have nowhere to cry.” I smiled. “Cool. Let’s break up then.” “Just like he wanted.” 1 The sun was blazing, but Lucas’s face was ice cold. Beneath the coldness was a layer of thick impatience. “I’ve told you a million times, Mia and I grew up together.” “She’s like a little sister to me. I just look out for her.” “Can you stop being so jealous over nothing? It’s annoying.” I didn’t speak. I didn’t cry like I used to, frantically defending myself. I just felt tired. Being unhappy over the same thing again and again was exhausting. Seeing my silence, Lucas softened his tone slightly. “Okay, look.” “I know you get jealous easily. I’ll try to keep my distance from her.” The bitterness in my chest finally spilled over. My eyes stung. Maybe there really was nothing between them. Like Lucas said a thousand times: If he liked Mia, why would he be dating me? But then he added, “But you have to promise me something too.” “Because you threw a fit last time, people started calling Mia a homewrecker.” “That kind of label hurts a girl. You know that.” The cicadas were screaming in the trees, but my heart plummeted into a silent abyss. I looked at Lucas. His face was so familiar, yet so strange. “What do you want?” “Find a chance to clarify things for her. Tell everyone it’s not true.” “She was crying about it yesterday, her eyes were so swollen…” “No.” I cut him off. Lucas froze, then visibly bristled. “Say that again.” “I said, no.” I dug my nails into my palms to stop my voice from shaking. “Fine.” Lucas laughed, a sharp, angry sound. He pulled out his phone and blocked me right in front of my face. “Emily.” He looked at me coldly. In the heat of summer, his voice was freezing. “If you have any dignity, don’t come crawling back.” 2 That night, one of his friends sent me a screenshot of Lucas’s Instagram story. Caption: “The neighbor’s kid grew up.” Attached were two photos. One of them at three years old, holding hands and grinning. One of them now. Not holding hands, but looking at each other with that same smile. Mia commented: “Hehe, am I still as cute as back then?” Lucas replied: “Still as greedy for snacks, little piggy.” His friend texted me: “See? Lucas just sees her as a sister.” “He posted this to clarify things so people stop misunderstanding.” I didn’t reply. I just smiled bitterly at my screen. Lucas wasn’t clarifying things for me. He was clarifying for Mia. Proving she wasn’t the “other woman.” While blow-drying my hair after a shower, I remembered all the Polaroids I took with Lucas. I dug the album out from the bottom drawer and packed it up. Tomorrow, I’d find a place to destroy them. Before sleep, my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number. Just a photo. Two hands, fingers interlaced tightly. I recognized the guy’s hand. It was Lucas’s. The other hand must be Mia’s. Interlocked fingers. Just like their childhood photo. The text read: “Sis, do you really think the new girl can beat the childhood sweetheart?” I stared at it numbly for a few seconds. I didn’t reply. I took a screenshot, saved it, and blocked the number. 3 The next day, I went to a recycling center. I destroyed the photos, the letters, the little gifts Lucas gave me. After that, I logged into the college portal and changed my application preferences. Once everything was done, I checked my messages. My bestie sent me the location for a party. Since graduation, everyone was partying every day. Usually at the same old spots. So, of course, the moment I walked in, I bumped into Lucas’s crew. They saw me and immediately started winking and nudging each other. “Emily! Here for Lucas, right?” “What a coincidence, he just got here. He’s inside.” “Told you guys. She couldn’t even wait a day, let alone a week.” “Lucas is a legend. One sentence and he’s got her on a leash.” “I’m not here for him,” I said, frowning. I’d heard this crap before, but this time, it just made me sick. “Stop pretending, Emily…” I didn’t bother engaging. I turned to leave. They paused, surprised. “Wait, you’re actually leaving?” “She’s just acting tough. Watch, she’ll be begging him to take her back by tomorrow.” I scoffed and looked back at them. “Sure. Keep waiting then.” 4 Lucas glanced at his friends walking in. He looked behind them, expecting someone else. His eyes darkened. He definitely heard Emily’s name just now. But she wasn’t there. Lucas felt a wave of irritation. Emily’s temper had been out of control lately. Making scenes over Mia constantly. Didn’t she get it? He and Mia had known each other since they were in diapers. If he wanted Mia, Emily wouldn’t even be in the picture. His phone buzzed. He unlocked it quickly. A WeChat message. The corners of his lips quirked up. Finally, the friend request. But when he opened it, it was from Mia: “Lucas, can you come get me?” He frowned, annoyed. “It’s close, can’t you walk?” “I hurt my leg.” Mia sent a photo. Her calf was bleeding. It looked bad. But Lucas’s eyes fixed on the bottom right corner of the photo. A flash of a teal skirt. If he remembered correctly, Emily had a skirt exactly like that. He stood up immediately and strode out.

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My senior year of high school, my parents cut me off. Completely. They demanded I drop out. With no other options, I walked into St. Jude’s Academy, a place crawling with trust fund babies and nepo babies. Because my grades were stellar, the school waived my tuition. But I still needed to eat. After starving for two weeks, wearing my most pathetic, threadbare clothes, I finally mustered the courage. I looked at the class of rich kids who never studied and said: “Hey… does anyone need their homework done? It’s… it’s only five bucks a pop.” The young masters and misses, busy flexing their wealth, stopped dead. They all stared at me in shock. A moment later, the room erupted: “Five bucks? Are you insulting me? Five hundred! Do mine first!” “I’ll pay five thousand! I’m first in line!” “Fifty thousand! US Dollars!” “Screw you guys! I’m lighting a sky lantern! Let’s see who dares outbid me today!” 1 The day I got kicked out, I had just started senior year. My dad, face twisted in rage, pointed a shaking finger at my nose. “Other girls your age are bringing in bride prices! But you? You’re just a money pit, spending my cash all day.” My mom chimed in, her voice dripping with false concern. “If you don’t marry, where will your brother get the money to marry and carry on the family line?” I clutched my stack of academic awards, screaming my defense until my throat was raw. It was useless. I ran away. My dad’s voice chased me out the door. “I’d like to see how you survive until college without us feeding you!” I took my transcripts and went from high school to high school. The answer was always the same: “Your grades are okay, but who knows if you’ll slip up senior year?” “We can only offer a tuition waiver.” That wasn’t enough. Clinging to my last shred of hope, I stood in front of St. Jude’s Academy. This place was rich kid central. Heirs and heiresses everywhere. Their daily routine was fighting and flexing. Nobody studied. In their world, the SATs were just a formality. They were all going abroad anyway. When I stood in the office, wearing clothes washed so many times the hems were fraying, the Dean looked down her nose at me. “You’re sure you want to come here? Aren’t you afraid of getting bullied?” I shook my head vigorously. “As long as you can waive the tuition and give me a tiny scholarship…” “Just a little… fifty, no, twenty bucks a month is fine. I’ll study hard. I’ll bring honor to the school.” The Dean agreed. I took the advanced scholarship check for two thousand dollars, thanked her profusely, and backed out. As the door closed, I heard her scoff. “Twenty bucks? Who does she think we are?” 2 I made it into the classroom. The noise of the rich kids died down instantly. They all sized me up with curious eyes. “What is she wearing? Are those holes intentional? Is this the new ‘Warzone Chic’ from Balenciaga?” “Why not Chanel?” “The fabric is holding up surprisingly well for being that worn. Must be off-brand. Only street stall stuff is that durable.” “Oh, you’re an expert? You wear that stuff?” “You dare accuse me of wearing street stall clothes? You’re dead! I’m telling my dad to pull funding from your dad’s company tomorrow…” Two rich kids started brawling. I kept my head down, walked past them, and found my seat. It was in the corner, right next to the trash can. I blocked out the gossip. I’d heard worse from my parents. The mockery of these pampered kids was nothing. Now I had a school. I had a shot at college. Nobody bullied me. During the break, a gorgeous girl even ran over to my desk, looking at me like I was a new species. “Hey, Perry,” she asked, genuinely curious. “Why are your clothes so tattered? Did you not like this season’s couture?” “Is it possible,” I said slowly, “that I just can’t afford it?” “Why not? Did you get your allowance cut? You can just draw from your trust fund.” I sighed. What is a trust fund? Chloe rested her chin on her hand. “How did you get here?” “Walked. Got up early.” “Why didn’t your driver drop you off?” “No driver. No car.” “Then why not ride your motorcycle?” “Don’t have one of those either.” “Oh, I get it. You only like helicopters, and yours was in the shop this morning, right?” I hid my face behind a book. Forget it. I can’t explain this. 3 Two weeks in, I was basically invisible. I huddled in my corner, grinding through practice problems. The teachers started to like me. Because I was the only one listening. I took notes, answered questions, and saved them from the awkward silence of an empty room. But my focus was slipping. I was hungry. So hungry I wanted to gnaw on the desk. Tuition was free, but I had to pay for housing. The Dean refused to let me live in the dorms. She said my background was too “different” and the other students wouldn’t accept it. I had to rent a place. Rent was insane. I begged the landlord until he agreed to take six months upfront. My two thousand dollars instantly became one hundred. In this city, where land is gold, that only got me a tiny attic room in the boonies. The last hundred went to utilities. I was broke. My grades weren’t good enough for Ivy League yet, so I didn’t dare ask the Dean for more money. Living in that hellhole at home had destroyed my study time. Despite killing myself to catch up, my junior year scores were only good enough for a state school. I wasn’t the main character in a novel who could date, slack off, and still get a perfect SAT score. My stomach had been empty for over eight hours. Breakfast was a piece of steak and half a tuna sandwich I fished out of the school trash can. Delicious, but tiny. I licked my lips and looked up at my classmates as the final bell approached. They were discussing which golf course to hit or whose yacht to party on. I pinched my arm hard, summoned every ounce of courage I had, and asked timidly: “Um… excuse me… does anyone need their homework done? It’s… it’s only five bucks a copy.” 4 I had never seen these kids do homework. Whenever the teacher assigned it, I was the only one writing it down to do later under my scavenged lamp in that stifling attic. After I spoke, the room went silent. The flexing stopped. Everyone looked at me like I’d grown a second head. Chloe gasped. “Class Prez, you do homework?” Since the teachers loved me, I had been promoted to Class President. Which meant I also did all the cleaning. My voice was barely a squeak. “Yes. I write fast and accurate. If you need a ghostwriter, consider me.” “I don’t charge much. Five bucks a paper. Buy five, get one free.” Thinking about how rich their families were, I quickly added: “Price is negotiable if that’s too high.” Shock cracked across their faces. Then, chaos erupted. “Five bucks? Are you looking down on me? Five hundred! Do mine first! Let my dad see his son loves learning!” “Five hundred? Embarrassing. I’ll pay five thousand! I’m first!” “Fifty thousand! US Dollars! I have nothing but money!” “Sky lantern! I want to see who dares outbid me today!” 5 The classroom was a zoo. The bids were getting ridiculous. It was like I was selling a Picasso, not Algebra II homework. I waved my hands frantically. “Just five bucks! I can’t take more. If you want it done, I’ll go in order.” “It’s all STEM stuff anyway, I can do it fast.” Business needs to be sustainable. I was afraid if I took too much, their parents would find out. Freshman year, I did homework for six bucks. A parent checked the accounts, found out, and screamed at my door for an hour. The shouting continued until Chloe secured the first slot. She triumphantly transferred me twenty bucks. My second-hand phone lagged for a solid minute before the notification popped up. I stared at the balance. Twenty dollars. “Don’t worry, Miss Chloe. I promise to make your homework look beautiful tonight.” I made a hundred bucks that day. Five orders. I worked until 1 AM. To ensure quality, I never took more than I could handle. The next day after school, I was staring at a fresh hundred-dollar transfer, about to shoulder my Chanel backpack (scavenged from the trash), when I was blocked. The class’s richest, most volatile Queen Bee stood in my way. She tapped her diamond-encrusted nails and nodded at her two minions. “Drag her to the bathroom!”

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I always wanted a big brother growing up. But when my mom remarried, my new stepbrother hated my guts. He called me clingy, a nuisance, and eventually manipulated our parents into transferring me to the rival high school just to get rid of me. I left without a fight. One semester later, when his anger faded and he came to bring me home, he found things had changed. I had new teachers, new friends, a new life. And I had a new brother. 1 I used to beg my mom for a brother. She’d look at me, sigh, and say, “That’s a bit tricky, honey. Unless you plan on being reborn.” I’d pout. “Okay, maybe I don’t want one that bad.” But then, Mom remarried, and I actually got one. Hayden was a year older than me, a junior in high school while I was a sophomore. I was thrilled. He was ice cold. He forbade me from calling him “brother” at school or even acknowledging we lived in the same house. At first, I thought he was just slow to warm up. Maybe he was struggling with the blended family dynamic. So, I tried to be the sunshine to his storm cloud. I waited by the door every morning so we could walk to school together. I blew off my friends to hang out by his classroom after the final bell. Hayden was always “busy.” He’d make me wait an hour outside his homeroom while he messed around on his phone. The sun would go down, the janitors would start mopping, and finally, his buddy, the class president, would walk out and look at me with pity. “Luna? Everyone’s gone. Why are you still here?” I shifted my weight on my numb legs. “I’m waiting for… Hayden.” “Hayden? Oh, I’ll grab him.” He turned back and yelled into the room, “Yo, Hayden! Quit stalling. Your girl’s waiting.” Through the window, I saw Hayden scowl, sling his backpack over one shoulder, and kick a chair out of his way as he stormed out. His friend tried to defend me. “Dude, what were you doing in there? Filling out forms? You made Luna wait for an hour.” Hayden didn’t even look at me. He just walked past, his voice dripping with indifference. “I didn’t ask her to wait.” I forced a smile at his friend. “It’s okay, really. He probably didn’t know I was there.” By the time I finished my sentence, Hayden was already down the hall. I jogged to catch up. As I passed the trash can near his locker, I saw a familiar flash of colorful foil. It was the wrapper for the artisan sandwich I’d made him that morning. I’d spent twenty minutes picking out that specific paper. When he took it this morning, I thought it was a peace offering. Turns out, he didn’t even take a bite. He just trashed it. 2 The walk home was silent. Hayden ignored me completely. That was fine. I could monologue. “So, the Dean came in to check our dress code today, and he walked in the back door and yelled at us for being loud, then walked to the front and praised us for being quiet. It was hilarious…” My laughter echoed in the empty street. Hayden stopped walking. “Can you ever just shut up?” My voice shrank. “Sorry.” He sped up, leaving me in the dust. I gathered my courage and jogged after him. “Hayden, can we just talk? I feel like there’s a misunderstanding between us…” He spun around under the streetlight, his face twisted in disgust. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” “Luna, the more you try to suck up to me, the more you make me sick.” He walked away. I crouched down on the sidewalk, burying my face in my arms. I couldn’t help it. The tears came. My parents divorced when I was tiny. Mom raised me on her own. She gave me everything she could, never missing a birthday no matter how many double shifts she worked. Family meant everything to me. I just wanted to make this work. I didn’t want Mom to be caught in the middle of a war. I didn’t understand why he hated me so much. After a good cry, I stood up and wiped my face. Maybe Hayden just wasn’t a family guy. Maybe he needed space. I can’t be so clingy, I told myself. One last try. If this fails, I’m done. 3 The next day, I baked a batch of cupcakes. I packed them in a cute box and went to find Hayden. He was in the student lounge with his basketball team. Hand on the doorknob, I froze when I heard my name. “Yo, Hayden, isn’t that girl Luna from Class 3 chasing you? Bringing you breakfast, waiting for you like a puppy?” I stood still. Even his best friends didn’t know we were step-siblings? Hayden didn’t answer, but someone else chimed in. “Not gonna lie, isn’t she your type? Cute, smart, great legs.” “Yeah, bro, she’s totally into you. With your rizz, you could probably get her into bed with two sentences.” “So when are we calling her sister-in-law? Or just a friends-with-benefits situation?” I clenched my fists and quietly pulled out my phone, hitting record. They laughed for a while until Hayden’s cold voice cut through the noise. “Her? Please. She’s disgusting. I wouldn’t touch her if she was the last girl on earth.” The room erupted in laughter. I stood outside the door, my blood turning to ice. I felt nauseous. Game over. My mom had married into a snake pit. It wasn’t that I wasn’t trying hard enough. It was that Hayden was a trash human being. Suddenly, all my efforts to please him felt like a bad joke. I wanted to dump the cupcakes in the trash. But I paused. Why waste good food on him? I sat on a bench outside and ate them myself. 4 From that day on, I ghosted Hayden. In the mornings, I left early and stopped for tacos or bagels on the way, no longer chasing his shadow. After school, I hit the street food stalls with my friends, eating corn dogs and loaded fries, coming home only when the streetlights buzzed on. I avoided him like the plague. I still baked, but now the cupcakes went to my friends, who actually appreciated them. My life without Hayden was peaceful. It was perfect. Apparently, Hayden hated seeing me happy. One evening, I was walking up the driveway with a takeout box of spicy wings and cheese curds when he blocked my path. I paused, clutching my food. “…Did you want a wing?” Hopefully not. I only bought a single serving. Hayden stared at the food, his lip curling. “Luna, how old are you? Can you stop stuffing your face with junk and focus on something that matters?” I blinked. The wings were from WingStop. That matters. He continued, “You’re technically my sister now. Stop embarrassing me at school.” He slammed the front door in my face. Literal insanity. Zero people at school knew we were related. I thought about it for a second. Then I sat on the porch steps and ate my wings while they were still hot. 5 Midterm grades came out. I scored ten points higher than Hayden. He looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. When he saw me in the hall, he did a 180 and walked the other way. Probable cause: Inferiority complex. A few days later, he posted a photo on Instagram. Holding hands with a girl. Caption: [From now on, I only protect you.] The comments were full of people calling her “Sis-in-law.” I squinted. It was Hailey, a cheerleader in his grade. I realized those times he made me wait outside his class, he was probably flirting with her. With his GPA? Bold move. I kept scrolling. Suddenly, a text from Hayden: [Check my first post.] I didn’t get it. Did he want a like? That’s cringe. But considering the tension, I liked the post and commented “99” (a slang for ‘lasting forever’) with a rose emoji. He didn’t reply. Minutes later, I found out he blocked me. After that, the PDA started. He brought Hailey to the cafeteria every day. Feeding her spoonfuls of mash potatoes. I was horrified. Cafeteria food is barely edible, and they were feeding it to each other like it was gourmet. I stared a little too long. Hayden noticed. He fed her more aggressively. Hailey looked like she was choking.

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Chapter 1 My husband killed himself. All because the “love of his life”—his muse—thought his amputated limbs were disgusting. Before he died, he demanded to be buried in the plot nearest to hers, just so he could watch over her for eternity. And what did I get? The wife who stood by him for years? I got a mountain of debt and a final letter full of venomous gaslighting. “Chloe, if it weren’t for saving you back then, I wouldn’t be a cripple.” “If you have a shred of conscience, you’ll take care of my parents and Bella after I’m gone. Send them ten grand a month.” My in-laws screamed at me, beating me, cursing me, wishing I had died instead of Ethan. But as the blows landed, the memories of the past sharpened in my mind. Ethan didn’t lose his limbs saving me. He was trying to save Bella. I was the one who dug him out of that pile of corpses with my bare hands. To pay for his surgeries, I liquidated my assets. I took on massive debt. Ten years of selfless devotion, and this was my reward. A heavy blow struck the back of my head. My vision went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of Ethan’s accident. I pretended I knew nothing. I boarded the plane for my overseas business trip. In this life, I wouldn’t even spare him a glance. “Ms. Hart, bad news! An earthquake just hit Oakhaven!” “Mr. Pei arrived there yesterday. We can’t reach him.” As soon as I walked into the airport terminal, my assistant, Sarah, chased after me, phone in hand, looking frantic. That’s when the reality of my rebirth truly hit me. Just like in my previous life, right as I was about to leave for London to close a transnational deal, disaster struck Ethan. Last time, I abandoned the trip without a second thought to find him. That decision pissed off our investors. The hundred-million-dollar project was scrapped. My company took a fatal hit. I had focused all my energy on Ethan, watching the business I built from scratch spiral into bankruptcy. Now, the executives behind me were watching me nervously. They knew I was obsessed with Ethan. They knew that even though he treated me like cold leftovers, I was the pathetic simp who would drop everything for him. Someone whispered, “Ms. Hart, the contract…” “Let’s go,” I said, walking toward the gate. I paused and turned back, my voice ice cold. “In the future, don’t bother me with anything regarding Ethan Pei.” The team stood there, stunned, before scrambling to catch up. The shock on their faces was priceless. Everyone knew I loved Ethan to the point of madness. But that woman died in her previous life. Until the plane took off, I didn’t look back. The negotiations lasted seven days. We hammered out every detail and secured the partnership. The team returned to the States in high spirits. As soon as we landed, I turned on my personal phone which had been off for a week. Notifications exploded. Everyone in Ethan’s circle had been blowing up my phone. I glanced at the messages with a detached laziness, then hailed a cab to the hospital. Chapter 2 Ethan was lying in a hospital bed, wrapped like a mummy. One arm and one leg were gone. In my past life, because I got to him quickly, he only lost a hand. When he woke up back then, he screamed like a maniac. He couldn’t accept his “imperfect” body. I wondered if he could handle the reality of his injuries now that they were ten times worse. His mother, Linda, was sitting by the bed, weeping tears of exhaustion. “He’s been in a coma for seven days. He hasn’t woken up.” “The doctor said he was crushed under the rubble for too long. His internal organs are damaged.” “The amputation area is too high… he can’t even use prosthetics. What are we going to do?” “He was fine! How did he end up like this?” Linda cursed through her teeth, “Who the hell did this to my son?” It was the same script as my last life. “My son is going to be a famous painter! How can he live without his right hand?” “If I find out which little slut caused this, I’ll kill her!” Back then, Ethan’s injuries weren’t life-threatening, and he was awake. Hearing his mother, and unable to accept the loss of his painting hand, he had shouted: “I got hurt saving Chloe!” I was dumbfounded back then. Why would he say that? He was saving Bella. But Linda had found her scapegoat. She slapped me across the face. “You bitch! My son doesn’t even like you, why are you so toxic? Are you trying to kill him?” I couldn’t explain. I just stared at Ethan. I thought he was delirious from the pain. But then, he had looked at his mother, then grabbed my hand. “Mom, I want to marry Chloe.” “Look at me. She’s the only one who won’t be disgusted by me now.” Linda had sneered but agreed. “Since she ruined you, she has to take responsibility. She can take care of you for the rest of your life.” After Linda left, Ethan had hugged me, crying. “Chloe, don’t be mad. I only said that so my parents would agree to the wedding.” “If they knew I did this for Bella, they’d force me to marry her. But I don’t love her anymore. You saved my life. I only want you.” I was so stupid. I believed every word. I ignored my company. I spent my fortune on his treatments and custom prosthetics. He said he wanted to paint, so I found the best doctors. I traveled the world for his rehab. He cried about not being able to support his parents, so I bought them a villa and luxury cars. Even when I ended up broke and drowning in debt, I never let the Pei family suffer. And Ethan? Ten years of rehab later, the moment he could hold a brush, he went to Bella. He wanted to rekindle their romance. But she looked at his stump and called it gross. He couldn’t take the rejection. He killed himself. And on his way out, he blamed me. “If you hadn’t been so late, I wouldn’t be like this!” “You ruined me thinking I’d stay with you? Dream on. I’d rather die than give you that satisfaction.” He died, leaving me the debt and a request to support his parents and his lover. He probably didn’t expect his parents to beat me to death in their grief. I opened my eyes, staring at the unconscious man. This time, you won’t get what you want. Chapter 3 Just then, Ethan struggled to open his eyes. “Where… where am I?” “What happened to me?” His face was wrapped in gauze. He couldn’t see anything. Linda lunged forward, grabbing his remaining hand. “There was an earthquake in Oakhaven. You were buried for three days before they dug you out. Your right arm and left leg… they’re gone.” “Your organs are damaged too. Why did you run off to Oakhaven?” Ethan’s body went rigid. But a second later, a burst of adrenaline made him roar, sitting up. “Impossible! How could I be a cripple?” “Mom, are you crazy? I’m your only son! How can you curse me like that?” His father walked in, looking away in pain. “Why would your mother lie? Tell us, how did you get hurt like this?” “No… No! I will not be useless!” Ethan screamed, struggling. Suddenly, he ripped the gauze off his face. Fresh blood poured from the unhealed wounds. It was grotesque. But he didn’t seem to feel the pain. He just kept repeating that he wasn’t a cripple. Then, he saw me. Pure hatred flashed in his eyes. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “Chloe Hart! Did you orchestrate this?” He laughed, a manic, broken sound. “You think I’d believe this lie?” “You think if I believe I’m crippled, I’ll finally agree to be with you? Keep dreaming!” “You bitch, you will never have me.” Confidence is a hell of a drug. I chuckled. “Whether your leg and arm are there or not… why don’t you look for yourself?” Ethan’s cursing stopped abruptly. Like a rusted machine, he slowly lowered his head. He saw the empty pant leg. The reality hit him like a lightning strike. He tried to move his right arm. A sharp, phantom pain shot through his shoulder, but there was nothing there. The sleeve of his hospital gown was flat. He finally realized his parents weren’t lying. “No… this can’t be…” “How can I be crippled? I’m going to be a painter!” “Bella is waiting for me to paint with her… I can’t be like this!” Linda grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. “Son, tell me! Was it that fox Bella who did this to you? I will kill her!” Ethan froze. The name Bella was like a bucket of ice water. He spoke quickly. “It was Chloe. I got hurt saving Chloe.” Chapter 4 “So it was you, you bitch! My son is ruined because of you, and you only show up now?” Linda went feral. She lunged at me, claws out. I laughed. It was genuinely funny. What did this have to do with me? I did absolutely nothing, yet they still tried to pin this on me? Before the slap could land, I caught Linda’s wrist and shoved her back. Our families were neighbors. I was raised to respect my elders. But the torture they put me through in my last life had ground my politeness into dust. They didn’t deserve it. I spoke coldly. “I was in the city the whole time. A week ago, I flew to London for business. When exactly was I in Oakhaven?” “There are limits to lying, you know.” “If it wasn’t you, who else could it be?” Linda refused to listen. She screamed, “Besides a shameless stalker like you, who else would he risk his life for?” “Tha—” “Shut up!” Ethan cut me off. He turned to his parents. “Mom, Dad, get out. I need to talk to Chloe alone.” The old couple left, reluctant and angry. Ethan looked at me. The hatred was still there, but now mixed with arrogance. “Chloe, as long as you admit I got hurt saving you… I’ll agree.” A look of martyrdom crossed his face, as if he were making a massive sacrifice. “I’ll agree to marry you.” “HAHAHAHA!” I threw my head back and laughed. I laughed until I saw the rage building in his eyes. “Ethan, do you actually think you’re a prize?” “Why would I take the blame for this?” “You think you can just invent a narrative where you’re my savior and guilt-trip me for life?” “And honestly… do you think I want you like this?” “I’m not running a charity for the disabled. Why would I marry a cripple?” I turned on my heel and walked out. Venting felt amazing. “Chloe! How dare you speak to me like that?” Behind me, Ethan screamed in impotent rage. “You’re the one who begged to marry me! I’m finally saying yes, how dare you refuse?” “Chloe! Get back here!” He screamed until his voice cracked. I didn’t look back. Chapter 5 For the next few days, I was busy hosting the partners from London. If this deal went through, the company would level up. IPO within two years, guaranteed. My assistant rushed in, looking stressed. “Ms. Hart, bad news. There’s a scene downstairs.” I walked out of the building. Ethan was sitting in a wheelchair. His parents were standing next to him, wailing about injustice. Behind them, people were holding banners. When Linda saw me, she lit up. “That’s her! That heartless bitch!” “My son lost an arm and a leg for her, and she won’t even admit it!” “They’ve been together for years, and now that he’s hurt, she dumps him!” “Who would do business with a woman like that? She’ll scam you!” I scanned the crowd coldly. My eyes locked with Bella, who was hiding in the throng. Ethan was useless to her now. She probably wanted to use him one last time to extort money from me. But I wasn’t the soft touch I used to be. Ethan’s voice rasped out, “Chloe, I can forgive you for trying to abandon me.” “But I promised to marry you. That hasn’t changed. Let’s get married.” I finally understood why the Pei family was so bold. Ethan was convinced I still loved him. He thought all he had to do was snap his fingers, and I’d come running. I guess I played the role of the loyal dog for so long, they forgot I was actually a human being. “Uncles, Aunties, everyone listening,” I announced, stepping forward, voice projecting clearly. “It is true that someone has been dating their son for years and abandoned him after the accident.” “And it is true he became disabled saving a woman. But that woman isn’t me.” “If the rule is ‘you must marry the person who saved you,’ then you should be talking to Bella.” I pointed directly at Bella. “I have evidence of their years-long affair. I have proof that during the earthquake, Ethan Pei was buried under rubble trying to save Bella.” “And I have proof that Bella ran away to save her own skin, leaving him to die.” The crowd gasped. I smiled at Ethan’s parents. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.” “No! It wasn’t me!” Bella shrieked, looking like a cornered rat. I didn’t give her a chance. I tossed a handful of photos into the air.

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I didn’t want to sit next to the school bully. But the bully’s mom begged me not to switch seats. She even held up five fingers to seal the deal. So, when the bully acted up, I slapped him. If he threw a tantrum? That was a one-way ticket to a beatdown. I literally slapped him into an Ivy League school. Then his mom wired me fifty thousand dollars. Me: “?” Wait, the hand signal meant money? I thought she was telling me to slap him five times a day. 1 I got stuck sitting next to Jax Sterling in junior year. Jax didn’t do uniforms. He had silver hair, diamond studs, and always smelled like expensive cigarettes. He was handsome, and he knew it. He was basically a walking, talking “greasy TikTok f-boy.” Absolute cringe. He rubbed his sharp jawline, puffing out his cheeks in a way he thought was cute. “Want a smoothie? Some freshman girl gave it to me. I don’t do strawberry.” I declined. “No thanks.” I was terrified that if I stuck a straw in it, I’d just suck up pure grease. I zoned out thinking about a calculus problem. Jax thought I was staring at his backpack. He immediately flicked the giant logo with his long fingers. “Gucci. Heh, nothing gets past you.” Me: “…” He made luxury brands look like knockoffs from a flea market. After gym class, he came back to his seat and deliberately lifted his shirt to wipe his sweat, flashing his eight-pack abs. Using my English textbook! I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran to the counselor’s office. The counselor practically cried. “Since Jax started sitting next to you, I haven’t lost my performance bonus once!” I didn’t care. “Ma’am, I’m here to study, not to babysit.” “Then you’ll have to talk to his parents yourself!” So, she called in Jax’s mom. 2 “It’s not that we haven’t tried talking to him, but boys that age are impossible to control. That’s why we’re counting on you!” Mrs. Sterling, a woman who clearly spent a fortune on skincare, gripped my hand. “Susie, please, you have to keep him.” She leaned into my ear, whispering pleadingly, “As long as you keep him, I’m okay with anything.” I looked down. I saw her secretly holding up five fingers. For real? I could get physical? I knew Jax came from big money, which was the only reason I’d been holding back. Now that I had a “get out of jail free” card, I wasn’t going to waste it. I gave a disclaimer: “I have a heavy hand. You won’t be heartbroken, will you?” Mrs. Sterling grinned from ear to ear. “Do whatever you see fit, Susie.” So. The next time Jax harassed me with that fake, deep ‘morning voice’— “Suuusie, want Jax to drive you home after study haaaall?” I didn’t hesitate. I raised my hand and slapped that frog voice right back down his throat. The whole class went dead silent. His minions almost jumped me. But what was I afraid of? I was licensed. I was under orders. “Clear the gravel out of your throat before you talk to me!” Jax clutched his red face. The corners of his eyes turned pink. He stared at me, stunned, for a long time. Poor little puppy. Slapped silly. I might look frail, but I can carry a propane tank up six flights of stairs without panting. When he spoke again, he was back to his normal, clean teenage voice. “Sorry, Susie. Is this better?” I gave a slap, now I had to give a treat. “You can drive me home after school.” “Okay, Susie.” Under the desk, Jax’s long legs were practically twisting into a pretzel with joy. Not just his minions, but the whole class was shook: The Dog Whisperer had entered the chat. 3 Jax never showed up for homeroom. He texted me: [Susie, do you want a King Crab feast or high tea at the Ritz?] I replied: [Breakfast burrito from the truck outside school.] That lady sold burritos at 5:30 AM and moved locations by 7:30 AM. Jax missed her completely the first day. When he showed up empty-handed during the first period, I slapped him. “I have low blood sugar, didn’t you know?” That scared Jax straight. He fixed his sleeping habits the very next day. Homeroom hadn’t even started, but at 6:30 AM, Jax was sitting at his desk waiting for me. When he saw me, he unzipped his jacket. The burrito was still warm from his body heat. I suppressed the urge to gag and ate it, looking at him yawning. “If you’re tired, forget it.” He swallowed half a yawn. “I’m not tired. I’ll buy you breakfast every day.” Since then, the school bully never missed homeroom again. 4 Jax always had to be special. On uniform days, he’d wear flashy Haute Couture. Relying on the fact that his family donated a building to the school, he acted untouchable. Jax bragged, “Susie, custom made by a master tailor. Handsome, right?” I slapped him. “It’s so ugly it hurts my eyes.” He started questioning his own taste. He changed outfits day after day. Finally, desperate, he wore the school uniform. I casually said, “Not bad.” After that, he wore that uniform until it faded, refusing to change it. I caught a cold and was coughing bad. Jax snuck out during the break to smoke. He came back smelling like an ashtray. It made me cough even harder. Next break, I followed him to the roof. I slapped the cigarette right out of his mouth. His posse was dumbfounded. “You think being Class Rep makes you a god? You dare hit the Boss?!” What was I scared of? His mom told me to do it. Jax lost face in front of his boys. But he didn’t get mad. He smiled, took the pack out of his pocket, and tossed it. As I walked downstairs alone, I heard Jax bragging to his friends: “Strict family discipline is for my own good. You guys with no one to care about you wouldn’t understand.” 5 Jax begged me to tutor him. I didn’t expect to have to start from The Big Bang. He didn’t even know middle school stuff. “How did you get into high school?” Jax was honest: “We bought my way in.” Rarely seeing him interested in learning, I took the time to make him a study guide. But he didn’t do a single problem. He bragged to his bros: “Studying is impossible. I’m just faking it to keep your sister-in-law happy.” I was so mad I rushed over and unleashed a combo of slaps! I beat him until he was red in the face, afraid to make a sound. His minions were practically kneeling: “Sister-in-law, easy! Don’t give Boss a concussion!!” I didn’t speak. I just kept slapping. I didn’t talk to Jax for the rest of the day. Jax panicked. He stayed up all night doing the problems. All wrong. Afraid of wasting my time, he hired private Ivy League tutors. He finally shot up from dead last to the middle of the pack. Only then did I look him in the eye. When he heard my goal was the local Top Tier University, Jax was curious. “You have the grades, why not shoot for an Ivy out of state?” “None of your business.” I couldn’t be bothered to tell him I was staying local to take care of my paralyzed mom. But Jax overthought it. “Is Wifey staying here for me?” He got himself all fired up. “I will work hard to get into the same college as Wifey!” Me: “…” Idiot.

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I came back from a week-long business trip to find a jade “Fertility Buddha” sitting in my husband’s home office. He lied and said a client gifted it for “good fortune.” I immediately pulled up his new intern’s Instagram. There it was—a post from three days ago, geo-tagged at a famous spiritual temple known for fertility blessings. The caption read: “Prayed for a son. Hoping Mr. J gets his heart’s desire.” I realized instantly: My husband, Julian, wasn’t just cheating; he was trying to secure an heir via a surrogate. Before I could screenshot it, the post was deleted. Julian immediately texted me, claiming the intern was his “distant, slow-witted cousin” and told me not to overthink it. I stared at his lies, full of holes like Swiss cheese. I replied with a simple “Okay.” Then, I forwarded the screenshots directly to our angel investor. “Mr. Sterling, would you be interested in hearing about how Julian is embezzling company funds to pay for his ‘cousin’s’ surrogacy plan?” 1 “Oh?” Mr. Sterling’s reply came instantly. I put away my phone and walked into the study, staring at that jade statue. I’d been married to Julian for five years. We went from having nothing to listing our company on the stock exchange. He used to value his reputation above everything. Now, this statue was a monument to his greed, a god invited into our home to bless his betrayal. At 10 PM, Julian came home. He tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa. His collar was loose, and he reeked of alcohol and a perfume that definitely wasn’t mine. “I’m back,” he said flatly, heading straight for the wet bar. “Mmhmm,” I responded, my eyes landing on his wrist. It was bare. The Patek Philippe I bought him was gone. I had bought that watch for his 30th birthday with the first big check we ever earned. He swore it was a witness to our struggle and that he’d wear it forever. “Where’s your watch?” I asked. He paused mid-pour, keeping his back to me. “Sent it in for maintenance.” “Which shop? I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Julian turned around, brows furrowed, impatience written all over his face. “Chloe, can you stop being so aggressive? I’ve been working all day. I’m exhausted.” He always did this. Whenever his lies were on the verge of collapsing, he used fatigue and gaslighting to shut me up. I didn’t argue. I just went to the bedroom. Once the door was closed, I sent Mr. Sterling a second message. “That watch on his wrist is worth seven figures. It’s currently on Mia’s wrist.” “Also, I audited the company’s accounts for the last six months. There are several ‘procurement’ payments that lead to nowhere.” This time, Sterling replied even faster. “Send me the address.” The next day, I didn’t go to my office. I went straight to Julian’s department. Mia’s cubicle was easy to find. It was in the prime spot, with a bouquet of fresh white roses on the desk. She looked exactly like her name—innocent and harmless. She was wearing a white dress, organizing files. And there, dangling loosely on her slender wrist, was a massive men’s luxury watch. Julian’s Patek Philippe. I walked over and tapped on her desk. She looked up, saw me, and immediately stood up. “Mrs. Zhou? I mean… Chloe? Why are you here?” Colleagues started to look over, curious. “Looking for Julian,” I smiled, staring pointedly at her wrist. “That’s a unique watch.” Mia instinctively tried to hide her hand behind her back, but it was too late. Her face flushed crimson. “Oh… this… it belongs to my cousin. He… he was afraid he’d lose it at home, so he asked me to safeguard it.” “Cousin?” I feigned shock. “Since when does Julian have a sister? Why didn’t I know?” She bit her lip, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. “Chloe, I… I’m Julian’s distant cousin. He probably didn’t think it was worth mentioning such a small thing to you.” “A small thing?” I stopped smiling. “When it comes to Julian, nothing is a small thing to me.” Mia’s face went from red to pale. She looked like she was about to faint. Just then, Julian stormed out of his office. He rushed over, shielding Mia behind him, and glared at me. “Chloe! What kind of scene are you causing here?” He didn’t ask what happened. He just convicted me on the spot. Watching him protect another woman like that felt like swallowing broken glass. “I’m causing a scene?” I laughed coldly, pointing at Mia. “Why don’t you ask her to explain why your watch is on her wrist?” Julian’s expression turned ugly. He clearly didn’t expect me to storm the office over a watch. He glanced at the gathering crowd and lowered his voice. “This is a place of business. Let’s talk at home.” “Home?” I repeated the word. “Which home? The one with me, or the one you bought for her?” 2 Julian was speechless. He grabbed my arm and practically dragged me into his office. The moment the door clicked shut, he exploded. “What is wrong with you?! Do you have to air our dirty laundry in public?” “I just want the truth,” I said calmly. “The truth is she is my cousin! I let her wear the watch for a few days to show off to her friends! Is that a crime?” I looked at him and suddenly felt nothing but pity. When did our marriage become nothing but cheap lies? Just then, my phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. I put it on speaker. Her shrill voice filled the room. “Chloe! Are you harassing Julian at work again? Do you have no shame? A woman running around in public like that… people will think the Zhou family relies on you to eat!” She paused to take a breath. “And let me tell you, don’t think you can hide it forever. If you can’t get pregnant, stop hogging the position! The Zhou bloodline cannot end with you!” Julian’s face went white. He tried to snatch the phone, but I dodged him. “Mom, what do you mean by that?” I asked. “What do I mean? Julian told me everything! Five years and your stomach has been flat as a board. The doctor said you’re the problem! You can’t carry a child!” Her voice got louder. “Now that his cousin is finally willing to help out as a surrogate, you have the nerve to cause trouble? Do you want the whole world to know you’re a hen that can’t lay eggs?” So that was it. He had scripted the whole thing. He pushed all the blame onto me. I hung up and looked at Julian. He looked away, terrified to meet my gaze. “Julian.” I enunciated every word. “Is that what you told her?” He was silent for a long time before squeezing a sentence through his teeth. “I just… didn’t want her to worry.” “Didn’t want her to worry? Or were you paving the way to bring your illegitimate child home?” He snapped his head up. “Chloe, since you know, I won’t hide it.” “I need a son. I need an heir for everything we’ve built.” “And you can’t give me one.” Finally. The mask was off. “So, the baby in Mia’s belly is yours?” I stared into his eyes, looking for a shred of guilt. I found none. Only entitlement. “We haven’t… yet. But soon,” he looked away. “Mia is a good girl. She’s willing to bear my child without asking for a title.” “Without asking for a title?” I laughed out loud. “So the Patek Philippe, the luxury apartment she just leased, and the cash transfers you’ve been making… those just fell from the sky?” Julian’s expression shifted rapidly. “That’s just compensation!” “Compensation?” I stepped closer. “Are you compensating your mistress with company funds?” He was cornered. Shame turned into rage. “Enough! Chloe! This doesn’t concern you! Just stay in your lane as Mrs. Zhou and I won’t mistreat you!” “Mrs. Zhou?” I looked at him. “You know what? I really don’t want that title anymore.” I turned to leave. He grabbed me from behind. “Where are you going?” 3 “Somewhere without you.” I shook off his hand and walked out of the office without looking back. Julian didn’t come home that night. I sat alone in the empty living room, reviewing the files Mr. Sterling had sent me. One was a medical report. Mia’s. It clearly stated she was already six weeks pregnant. So even his “soon” was a lie. He had already done the deed. I flipped through the pages. The man who claimed he loved me, who said I was the only one, had created a new life with another woman weeks ago. The most disgusting part? The payment record for the prenatal checkup came from the corporate account. He was expensing his mistress’s ultrasound to the company. Julian, you truly have no bottom line. My phone buzzed. A text from Julian. “My mom’s heart is acting up. I’m staying at the hospital with her. Go to sleep.” Another lie. I clicked on the live location tracker Mr. Sterling had provided. He and Mia were currently at the city’s most expensive French restaurant, enjoying a candlelight dinner. In the attached photo, Mia was cradling her belly, and Julian was looking at her with pure adoration. Champagne, red wine, and 99 red roses on the table. How ironic. In five years of marriage, he never looked at me like that. Even on my birthdays, he used “busy work” as an excuse to buy a generic cake. But for a pregnant mistress, money was no object. I closed the app and called my mother-in-law. “Mom, Julian said your heart is acting up. Are you okay?” On the other end, the old woman scoffed. “I’m fine! At least he has a conscience and cares about me. Unlike some people who only know how to make me angry.” I smiled. “That’s good. Mom, since you’re so healthy, you’ll definitely live to see your grandson.” “What grandson?” “Oh, right. I wanted to tell you.” “Julian told me Mia is pregnant. Six weeks along. It’s your biological grandson.” “What did you say?” “I said, Mia is pregnant. Six weeks,” I repeated calmly. “You’ll be holding a baby soon.” Heavy breathing came from the other end. After a long pause. “Really? You aren’t lying?” “I have no reason to lie,” I paused for effect. “However, Julian doesn’t seem to want to bring her into the family. He said Mia doesn’t want a title, she just wants to have the baby quietly.” “That won’t do!” The old lady exploded. “The Zhou bloodline cannot be illegitimate! No, I have to make him give Mia a proper status!” “But I’m his legal wife,” I reminded her softly. Silence. I knew that in her heart, my feelings were nothing compared to a hypothetical grandson. “Chloe,” her tone softened, dripping with fake sincerity. “Look, how about this? You divorce Julian for now. Let Mia have the baby. Then you two can remarry. The child will be registered under your name, you’ll still be the lady of the house, and no one can threaten your position.” She really thought she was a genius. Make me move aside, let the mistress birth the heir, then bring me back to raise it and pay the bills? Dream on. “Mom,” I chuckled. “Do you really think that’s possible?” I hung up. The next day, Julian called, furious. “Chloe! What nonsense did you feed my mother? She’s forcing me to divorce you and marry Mia!” “I just told her the facts.” “What facts? I never said I was going to marry her!” Julian sounded panicked. I listened to his impotent rage with total calm. “Julian, did you ever consider that maybe… this is exactly what Mia wants?” He froze. I didn’t give him time to recover. I hung up. Then, I texted Mr. Sterling. “Let’s begin.” 4 The next morning, the company was in chaos. Mr. Sterling, as the majority shareholder, demanded a complete audit of the last year’s financials and froze the funds for several projects. Julian, as the project lead, was immediately suspended pending investigation. He called me, his voice shaking with rage. “Chloe, you did this, didn’t you?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t play dumb! Why would Sterling suddenly audit us? You told him something!” I walked into the study, picked up the jade fertility statue, and weighed it in my hand. “Julian, when you embezzled public funds, you should have seen this coming.” “I didn’t embezzle anything! Those were necessary expenses for business development!” Still lying. “Is that so? Renting a luxury apartment for Mia, buying Patek Philippes, taking trips to spiritual temples… that’s business development?” Dead silence on the other end. Finally, he gritted his teeth. “What do you want?” “Divorce.” Two words. “Impossible!” He refused instantly. “Chloe, I admit I messed up, but we don’t need to go nuclear. Give me time. I’ll handle Mia.” “Handle?” I laughed. “You mean wait until she births your ‘dragon heir,’ then kick me to the curb?” “No!” He denied it frantically. “I just… I just wanted a child. The Zhou family line hangs on a single thread…” “So you hired a womb and pinned the infertility on me?” I cut him off. “Julian, you disgust me.” I hung up and blocked him. Moments later, his mother called. “Chloe, dear, Mom was wrong. I was confused yesterday, that’s why I said those awful things.” “Don’t hold it against Julian. He was just confused for a moment.” “You’ve been together so long, there’s no hurdle we can’t cross. You can’t divorce him!” “If you leave him, what happens to the company? How will our family live?” I listened quietly. They weren’t afraid of hurting me. They were afraid of losing the money I brought in. “Mom.” I spoke. “When you were forcing me to divorce him yesterday, did you think about how we’d live?” “I… I didn’t…” “You said, ‘If a hen can’t lay eggs, she shouldn’t hog the nest.’” I repeated her words back to her. “Well, the nest is empty now. Go find your golden phoenix.” I hung up and blocked her too. 5 Julian was suspended. At the emergency board meeting, Mr. Sterling sat at the head of the table, looking grim. Julian stood in the center like a criminal, sweating under the shareholders’ glares. He tried to argue, blaming the accounting department for “negligence.” “I admit my management was lax, but I never pocketed a dime!” He spoke with such passion, acting like the victim. I pushed the door open right as he hit his crescendo. Every eye in the room turned to me. Julian saw me, his pupils shrinking. “Chloe? What are you doing here?” “I’m a shareholder. Why wouldn’t I be here?” I walked to my seat, sat down, and slapped a stack of documents onto the table. “Mr. Zhou just said he never pocketed a dime, correct?” He stiffened his neck. “Correct!” “Then please explain these transfers to Ms. Mia Lin’s personal account.” I projected the bank statements onto the big screen. Every amount, every date, clear as day. “And this apartment under her name. Rent is $5,000 a month, paid via the company petty cash fund.” “And this Patek Philippe watch. Seven figures. Marked as ‘Client Entertainment Expenses’.” Faced with hard evidence, Julian’s face drained of blood. He stared at me, eyes filled with hatred. “Chloe, you investigated me… just to ruin me?” “I’m not ruining you,” I said calmly. “I’m exterminating a pest in the company.” The room erupted. An older shareholder pointed a shaking finger at him. “Julian! We trusted you! You used company money to keep a mistress?! Do you have no conscience?” Julian had no defense. Suddenly, he turned on me. “It’s you! You forced me to do this!” He screamed like a maniac. “You’re domineering! You’re bossy! You control everything! I have no dignity in my own home! That’s why I made a mistake!” “You think you’re a saint? If it wasn’t for your dad back then…” Bang! Mr. Sterling slammed his hand on the table and stood up. “Enough! Julian, this is a boardroom, not a street corner! Security!” “Get him out of here!” Two guards dragged Julian away as he kicked and screamed. “Chloe! You’ll die screaming! Just you wait!” The heavy doors slammed shut, cutting off his curse. I sat in my chair, feeling cold all over. His last words stabbed precisely into the oldest wound in my heart.

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Six years after our divorce, I saw Randall Partridge again at the police precinct. He was a decorated Police Captain, invited to give a lecture. I was just a civilian, there to file a death certificate. As he passed out candies from his new wedding, our eyes met. Neither of us spoke. It wasn’t until I turned to leave that he called out, his voice soft. “Vera… do you still hate me?” I shook my head. When he went from my bodyguard to a celebrated undercover hero, and I fell from a pampered heiress to a pariah living in the shadows, I suppose I did hate him then. But hate is born from love. Six years have passed. I stopped loving him long ago. 1 A young officer, oblivious, called out, “Come on, everyone, get some of the Captain’s good luck.” Randall stopped the officer’s hand as it reached for me and quickly followed me out. His voice was rushed. “What are you doing here? Let me help…” I held up the file in my hand, cutting him off. “It’s already done.” I walked straight out of the precinct. It was a strange coincidence. This was the second time we’d seen each other here. The first time was when my father was arrested. Randall grabbed my sleeve, forcing me to stop. “Are you doing okay?” Such a cliché. I glanced at the new wedding band on his ring finger and replied with a cliché of my own. “I’m fine.” My gaze seemed to burn him, and he let go of my arm. Leo’s car was parked at the curb. I looked back at Randall. “My husband is here to pick me up.” His voice was raw, laced with a choked bitterness. “…Okay. Goodbye.” I didn’t want to see him again. The car pulled away, but he remained standing there, a tall, unmoving figure in my rearview mirror until he disappeared from sight. “Sis, are you using me to ward off old flames?” Leo asked, his face a mask of gossip-hungry curiosity. “That cop looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. But the more I look at him, the more familiar he seems.” I smoothed out the creased document in my hands. “Randall Partridge.” Leo’s head snapped towards me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Randall Partridge? The criminal investigation expert? The guy who’s always on TV for case analysis, the one they feature in police academy textbooks?” His reaction was so over-the-top that I had to remind him, “That’s him. Eyes on the road.” Leo was still talking to himself. “No wonder he’s a Captain at his age. I remember now, he was the one who went undercover for ten years to take down that massive organized crime syndicate. The kingpin’s last name was… Vaughn, or something.” “Vaughn,” I confirmed. “Right, right, Vaughn. You don’t hear that name often…” He seemed to remember that my last name was also Vaughn and trailed off. I answered his unspoken question, my voice perfectly calm. “Yes. That was my father.” The kingpin of the Vaughn syndicate, brought to justice by Randall Partridge himself. Leo scratched his head, embarrassed. “Sorry, sis. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” It didn’t hurt anymore. It felt like telling someone else’s story, my emotions placid and distant. The silence in the car was a little awkward. Leo’s eyes fell on the file in my hands, and he quickly changed the subject. “So, what were you at the precinct for today?” I traced the bold letters of the word “DECEASED” on the page. “To… close out my father’s official records.” My father had passed away two weeks ago. He had collapsed in prison, coughing up blood. It was late-stage stomach cancer. He was granted medical parole but didn’t even last three months. On his deathbed, his last words were, “I am a guilty man, Vera. I don’t blame Randall. But he deceived you. For that, I wish I could kill him.” My father never blamed me. Not even when he refused every single one of my visit requests for six years. I knew it wasn’t because he thought I had led the wolf to his door. He just didn’t want me to live my life branded as a criminal’s daughter. Thinking of him, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness. To distract myself, I turned to the hesitant Leo. “Want to hear my story?” The story of the daughter of the city’s biggest crime boss, and the ex-wife of the police department’s golden boy. The story of a walking contradiction. 2 When I was sixteen, I was kidnapped by a rival gang. I managed to escape that night, only to find myself in the slums. The streets were littered with trash and cigarette butts, and rats squeaked in the sewers. Under the flickering gloom of a streetlamp, a drunkard blocked my path. A boy pulled me behind him, shielding me. It was eighteen-year-old Randall. He was wearing a faded black t-shirt, his arms lean and strong. When the drunk’s bottle crashed against his arm, he didn’t even flinch. I didn’t know then that it was all a setup. I was just a naive girl swept up in a hero-saves-the-damsel cliché. When my father arrived, I told him, “Weren’t you looking for a bodyguard for me? I want him.” Bodyguard was just a title. Back then, Randall had nothing but his strength. I had to find a reason to keep him by my side. My father admired him, too. He said the boy had a fire in his eyes, that he was destined for great things. And he was. He studied hard, and two years later, we both got into the same university. The day he received his acceptance letter, his eyes were red. “Vera,” he said, “I owe you and your father everything.” “If I could, I’d stay by your side forever.” Randall would wake up at six every morning and take an hour-long bus ride across town to stand in line, just so I could have hot soup dumplings before my 8 a.m. class. He would spend his entire paycheck on a beautiful brooch I had casually admired, while his own sweater, pilled and faded, was worn for three years straight. His bag was always stocked with painkillers, band-aids, an umbrella, and sanitary pads for my forgetful self. He was so good to me, so perfect, that even my father couldn’t find a single fault. The year we graduated, he asked to join the Vaughn Group. My father hesitated, telling him he didn’t need to repay any debt. But Randall dropped to his knees. “I know I’m not worthy, but I love Vera. I want to earn the right to stay by her side.” I didn’t know then that my father was already trapped, backed into a corner by forces I couldn’t comprehend. I only remember him and Randall talking in the study for a long time. When they came out, my father placed my hand in Randall’s. “Randall, promise me you’ll keep my girl safe. Keep her happy, and keep her life clean. Honorable.” At twenty-five, I graduated with my master’s degree. Randall, through his own merit, had become a key figure in the company. The higher he rose, the stranger he became. Once, as I was sketching, he stared at me for a long time and then said, “Sometimes I just want to give it all up for you.” But when I asked him what he meant, he wouldn’t say. At this point in my story, Leo interrupted. “Do you think he meant he was actually falling for you and wanted to give up being an undercover cop?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter.” A fleeting moment of hesitation couldn’t change his righteous resolve. At twenty-six, Randall proposed. We got our marriage license first, then planned the wedding. The day was magnificent. I was in a pure white gown. And I watched, in my wedding dress, as Randall flashed his badge and snapped handcuffs on my father’s wrists. “On your wedding day?” Leo asked, horrified. “That’s monstrous! Did you go up and hit him?” I shook my head again. “I didn’t get the chance. He left with my maid of honor.” “The maid of honor? Who?” “His current wife.” 3 A few days ago, photos from Randall’s wedding had made the rounds in our old college group chat. The bride, unsurprisingly, was Felicity Fang. My best friend and roommate from college. She came from a poor, rural area. She was plain, with thick glasses, and was intensely proud and hardworking. When our English professor mocked her accent, saying it had the “fragrance of the soil,” her face turned crimson, but she never bowed her head. I was the one who approached her first. I invited her to join the English-speaking group I had with Randall. Perhaps it was because they shared similar backgrounds and temperaments. They got along well. Or maybe… they just clicked. The cheap street food I couldn’t stomach, they both loved. The bright, colorful clothes I adored, they both eschewed for practical, stain-resistant black shirts. When we had to choose between two project topics, they would always, in perfect sync, choose the other one. But all their interactions were through me. They always kept a respectful distance. So I never once suspected a thing. After I got my master’s, Felicity was struggling in her career and came to me for help. I wanted to give her a hand, so I got her a job at the Vaughn Group and asked Randall to look after her. Unlike our old trio, this time, I wasn’t in the middle. That’s when it started. Why Felicity? I suppose after hiding his true self for so long, he could finally be himself around her. And I remained completely in the dark. Until my wedding day, when Felicity threw herself into Randall’s arms. Tears streamed down her face. “You did it! After ten years of suffering and humiliation, you can finally be yourself again.” After ten years, for the very first time, I saw the real Randall Partridge. He looked at me from a distance, silent, his expression placid. It was the look of a man scrutinizing a criminal. I had so many questions. What would happen to my father? When did you and she get together? And… when did you start lying to me? But he never gave me the chance to ask. He walked over, holding Felicity’s hand, and said coldly, “He won’t be detained during the investigation. Pack him a few changes of clothes and take them to the holding center.” He looked at my tear-streaked makeup, and for a moment, his expression softened. I threw my bouquet in his face. Then I grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby table and flung it at them. The liquid splashed across Felicity’s pink bridesmaid dress. “Randall, don’t go soft on her,” she said, her voice trembling with manufactured victimhood. “Loving her was just an act. You wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in it for real, would you?” Her words snapped him back to reality. He picked up a glass of wine and poured it directly over my head. “A toast, for a toast. This is from Felicity.” “We can talk when you’ve sobered up.” He turned and left with her, leaving me drenched and humiliated. For days, I could hardly sleep. The Vaughn Group was seized, our family’s assets frozen. I spent my time dodging reporters and trying to find a lawyer for my father. The verdict was clear: there was no way out. It was only then that I learned my father was, in the eyes of the world, a bad man. The worldview I had held for twenty-something years shattered. Human nature is so complex. No one is purely evil. He did terrible things, but he also adored his daughter and was a generous philanthropist. And by the same token, no one is purely good. Take Randall. The media lauded him, giving him titles like “The Shadow of Justice” and “The Dawnbreaker.” But I found him in our brand-new, crimson-decorated bridal suite, kissing Felicity. By then, I had no energy left to fight. I collapsed. “What happened to you after that?!” Leo pressed. “After that… I don’t remember much. I think I almost died.” 4 Perhaps my brain initiated a protective shutdown. I became ill, lost in a mental fog. Perhaps out of pity, Randall didn’t file to have our marriage annulled right away. Instead, he took a two-month leave and took me to see doctors. Psychological counseling, but I wouldn’t speak. Medication, but I wouldn’t open my mouth. He even had me restrained for ECT. The side effects were severe, often causing cognitive impairment. To this day, I can’t hold a pen to draw. Back then, I had no intention of getting better. I had a razor blade hidden in my vanity. The day my father was sentenced, I would be free. But Randall was furious. He pried my mouth open and forced the pills down my throat. “Do you still think you’re the same pampered princess you used to be? Can you stop being so willful?” In the past, whenever I had to take medicine, I’d throw a little tantrum. And Randall would patiently coax me. “Be good. The moment you swallow, I’ll give you a candy.” This time, there was no candy. The second he let go, I threw it all up. Randall’s patience was gone. He looked down on me. “Look at the state of you. I shouldn’t even be bothering.” “Then don’t.” The door slammed shut. He spent the entire night smoking in the living room. The next day, Felicity showed up. They fought, their voices sharp. “Randall, you’re a cop with a brilliant future! She’s a criminal’s daughter! Why are you still involved with her?” After a long silence, Randall’s voice came, low and strained. “I’ve taken care of her for ten years. Even if she were just a stray cat or dog, I wouldn’t have the heart to just throw her away immediately.” A stray cat or dog… how compassionate of him. The argument somehow ended with them kissing. They were defiling the new home my father had bought for me. I stormed out and smashed everything in sight. Including our wedding portrait, a picture of two smiling, happy people. Randall shielded Felicity, just as he had once shielded me. He watched my breakdown with cold, detached eyes. Felicity pretended to be terrified. “See? I told you. She has a criminal’s blood in her veins. Selfish, violent… it’s terrifying.” At the mention of my father, I became hysterical. I grabbed a shard of glass and lunged at them. Randall kicked me away. His voice was filled with disappointment. “Vera, you’ve exhausted the last shred of mercy I had for you.” The day Randall filed the annulment papers was the day my father’s final sentence came down. Life in prison. Through the reinforced glass, my father’s eyes streamed with tears. He saw the death wish in my eyes. “My girl, you have to live. I’m begging you.” He had already prepared a way out for me. A massive trust fund in an overseas account. My father had never used the word “beg” in his life. So I thought, fine. I’ll live. The last time I saw Randall was in front of the precinct. He left me with four words. “You’re on your own.” The story was over. The car entered a tunnel, and the world went dark, save for the warm, yellow glow of the lights overhead. The stark white light of a phone screen cut through the dimness. An unknown number. “Hello?” It was Randall. “You left your ID card here. Can we meet?”

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1 My last ride of the day was my ex-wife, who I hadn’t seen in seven years. She had changed so much. Dressed head-to-toe in designer brands, the jade bracelet on her wrist alone was worth eight figures. Through the car window, she whipped off her sunglasses, her voice catching. “Noah Vance… you’re alive?” I averted my gaze, pulling the surgical mask higher on my face. My voice was flat. “Are you the rider with the phone number ending in 1793?” Shannon bent down and slid into the passenger seat, her eyes never leaving me. Her expression was a storm of conflicting emotions. “After you escaped from the psychiatric hospital… why didn’t you come back to me?” Her voice faltered, a barely perceptible tremor in it. “These past years… have you been okay?” I didn’t answer her. I just silently pulled down my mask. A patchwork of burn scars covered my face, blurring the features she once knew. The torture, the days where death seemed a mercy, had been enough to burn away all the love and hate I ever felt for Shannon. … Shannon’s gaze was fixed on me. Throughout the drive, she opened her mouth to speak several times. But each time she looked at my face, the words died in her throat. Finally, she looked down, her voice barely a whisper. “After the fire… I looked for you.” I stared straight ahead at the traffic light, one hand on the steering wheel, and said nothing. Her lips trembled, but she pressed on. “During the search and rescue, they couldn’t find any survivors. We all thought you were dead.” My fingers tightened on the wheel. Hearing about my own death from someone else’s lips was a special kind of irony. I gave her a noncommittal reply. “Still breathing.” Shannon sensed my cold, detached attitude. She clutched her Chanel bag, and the words failed her again. The silence in the car was heavy, almost suffocating. Following the GPS, I drove into an upscale neighborhood in the heart of the city. Before I could even unlock the doors, a child’s voice chirped from outside. “Mommy! Daddy and I missed you! You promised to take me to the amusement park!” A little girl ran at full speed and threw herself into Shannon’s arms. Shannon’s face softened into a smile as she kissed the girl’s cheek. “How about tomorrow? Pinky promise.” In seven years, Shannon had remarried and had a child. She was living a life that was a universe away from mine. The man beside her, Evan, was smiling, until his eyes landed on me. I saw a flicker of pure shock in his eyes. “Mentor? Is that you? You’re still alive.” Everyone seemed shocked that I was alive. And no one seemed particularly happy about it. Evan took Shannon’s hand and led the child over. “Annie, this is Daddy’s mentor. Go on, say hello.” My fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel. A tremor went through me. That name. It was the one Shannon and I had chosen together. A boy would be Arthur, a girl, Anna. Shannon had spent three days and nights poring over a dictionary to find those names. But the child we were supposed to have… we lost it. As I was lost in thought, the little girl saw the charred, puckered skin on my face and burst into tears. Shannon immediately scooped her up, cooing softly, her hand covering the child’s eyes. Evan’s lips curved into a smirk. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of smug triumph. “Sorry about that, Mentor. Annie’s still young. She’s probably just a little scared of you.” “To make up for it, why don’t you come inside? It’s been too long.” My expression didn’t change. His thinly veiled insults didn’t faze me. Who would have thought that Evan, who once couldn’t even afford a decent set of clothes, now lived in the most expensive, exclusive villa complex in the city? When I didn’t respond, Evan’s smile faltered, and he looked down, his voice laced with false apology. “Mentor, are you angry with me… for marrying Shannon?” “You were gone for seven years. She was crying every single day. I couldn’t bear to see her like that, so I…” I cut him off, my voice calm. “Do I know you? Why would I be angry with you?” The expression on his face froze. Even Shannon took a hesitant step forward. I could see the guilt in her eyes. “I know you’re still angry with me, but what happened back then…” She wanted to explain, but any explanation would be laughably inadequate. “The way you are now… if there’s anything you need, I’ll help you.” “No, thank you.” Perhaps back then, when I was locked away in that hospital, I really did need her help. Every day, every night, I begged them to let me see her, just once. But now? Why would I hold out hope for the person who personally threw me into hell? 2 After leaving the complex, I parked in a lot not far from my apartment. I put my mask back on and kept my head down, avoiding the curious stares of passersby. Before I could react, someone slammed into my side. “Watch where you’re going! Don’t you have eyes? Young people these days, so reckless!” The sharp, biting tone stopped the apology on my lips. I looked up. My heart skipped a beat. It was my mother. She saw my face, didn’t recognize me, and took a few disgusted steps back. Her friend tugged on her sleeve. “Let’s go, let’s go. What bad luck.” I stood frozen as they walked away. In seven years, her hair had grayed, but her personality was the same. Caustic, cold, and cruel. The cold night wind bit at my skin. I shivered, rubbing my arms, and hurried home. The apartment was quiet. I’d been living alone for the past few days. I took off my thin jacket. In the bathroom, the mirror reflected the hideous scars on my back. That spot… was where my mother had once carved her disownment into my skin. The Vance family had produced a single heir for eight generations, each one a giant in the world of chess. That included me. At the time, I had just won my thirty-second international championship. My list of accolades was endless. Everyone agreed my achievements had surpassed my father’s, even my grandfather’s. And on that same day, I married Shannon. They all envied me. Even I believed my life was charmed. Until I met Evan, who at the time couldn’t even afford his tuition. I offered him a lifeline. I sponsored his living expenses, taught him chess, and took him on as my protégé. Evan was smart. He knew how to charm my mother and how to evoke Shannon’s pity. But slowly, everything began to change. At first, it was just Shannon mentioning him more often. Then, she started making him lunch every day, memorizing all his dietary habits. When I questioned her, she just laughed and called me paranoid. “Evan is your protégé. I’m his mentor’s wife. He’s had a hard enough life. It’s only right that I look after him.” Until the third month of Shannon’s pregnancy, when there was an accident, and the baby was gone. When I heard the news, I was overseas. I flew back immediately, not sleeping for dozens of hours. I messaged Shannon nonstop, but there was no reply. When I finally rushed to the hospital, I found her sobbing in Evan’s arms. I had never seen her so fragile. Evan was comforting her, his hands gently stroking her back, as if she were a precious, breakable treasure. I froze, staring at the scene before me. When my mother arrived, she slapped me across the face. “You’re not worth a fraction of him!” That day, it felt like I lost more than just a child. The icy splash of tap water on my face pulled me back to the present. I turned on the shower, trying to wash away the old scars on my back with cold water. After nearly an hour, my skin was red and swollen. When I stepped out of the bathroom, a text message popped up on my phone. Mom’s 70th birthday is the day after tomorrow. I’ll come pick you up. There was no name attached, but I knew it was Shannon. I stared at the message for a long time. After escaping that fire, I had spent countless days and nights wondering. What did my mother see me as? A son, or a tool to bring the family honor and money? I looked down, my fingers tapping on the screen. Okay. 3 Two days later, I was in the back seat of Shannon’s car, watching the scenery fly by. Evan, in the passenger seat, spoke up, his voice loud. “I didn’t think you’d agree to come, Mentor.” I didn’t respond. Shannon’s eyes kept finding mine in the rearview mirror. The silence was thick, broken only by the soft breathing of the sleeping child. “Evan… Mom adopted him as her godson,” Shannon explained, her voice stiff. The hand supporting my head tensed. I lowered my gaze and said nothing. My mother’s 70th birthday banquet was being held at the most luxurious hotel in the capital. The guest list was a who’s who of the city’s elite. My reflection in the glass doors showed a man in a loose, ill-fitting suit. The scars on his face were a grotesque map. Compared to them, I was a ghost at the feast. I followed behind Shannon, and the stares immediately found me. Until my mother appeared. When she saw Shannon and the child in her arms, her face broke into a wide, happy smile. “Mom, I brought Noah back. He’s alive,” Shannon said, stepping forward. “I thought… he should come home.” I glanced at her, at the desperate way she was trying to explain. It was almost funny. Was she trying to assuage her own guilt, or did she genuinely want me back? I had no idea. My mother’s gaze followed Shannon’s and landed on me. There was no shock in her eyes, no surprise. Only disgust. “I have no son like him!” Even though I knew it was coming, a sharp pain lanced through my heart. “Mom.” The word had been on the tip of my tongue for seven years. That day was the last tournament before my birthday. My opponent was Evan. The match was being broadcast live, screens everywhere showing our faces. My mother was in the audience, as always. But that day, she didn’t seem to see me. Her eyes kept darting to Evan, cheering him on. Shannon, too. No one expected me to win. I played with a rare focus. Evan was completely outmatched. But halfway through, he called for a stop. He looked at me in disbelief. “Mentor, would you really cheat just to win?” His clear voice echoed through the arena. My hand, hovering over a piece, froze. I looked up at him, uncomprehending. The referees signaled a timeout and approached my table. “Mr. Vance, please cooperate with our investigation.” They searched my pockets. In the inner lining of my jacket, they found a black chess piece. My entire outfit for the match had been prepared by Shannon. A ringing filled my ears. I shook my head, numb. “I didn’t.” The flash of a dozen cameras blinded me. Before I could process what was happening, I heard the referee announce my disqualification. My mother strode forward and slapped me across the face. Her voice was ice. “How could I have a son so shameless!” Overnight, I went from a celebrated genius to a pariah. I fled, leaving the frenzied pack of reporters behind me. I had to find Shannon, to ask her what was happening. As I ran down the stairwell, I skidded to a halt. The sight before me felt like it would tear my eyes from their sockets. 4 Evan had Shannon pressed against the wall, his hand on her waist, kissing her with a savage intensity. Their clothes were half-off. It was the sound of my footsteps that made Shannon snap back to reality. A desperate roar tore from my throat. I kicked Evan away and lunged for Shannon, my hands closing around her neck. “Why? Why would you do this to me?!” “You planted that piece in my jacket so Evan could win! Why?!” Shannon broke free from my grip and rushed to help Evan, who had fallen to the floor. Evan scrambled to his knees in front of me, his hands clasped together. “Mentor, it wasn’t her fault! It was all me! I know I’ve wronged you…” I wanted to tear him to pieces. When he was at his lowest, I was the one who helped him. When he had no money to bury his parents, I paid. When he had no money for school, I paid. I taught him everything I knew, hoping he would shine in the world of chess. “But why would you do this to me?” I stumbled back, tears streaming down my face. Shannon’s expression had turned cold and calm. “Yes, I planned it. You have everything. Evan has nothing.” “And yes, Evan and I are together. We’ve been together since the day I lost our baby.” “Mom knows, and she doesn’t disapprove. She said if you can’t accept it, we can get a divorce, but I’ll still be a part of the Vance family.” Her words shattered me. I don’t know how I left. For the next week, I was a ghost. My mother publicly disowned me, striking my name from the family records. Shannon and Evan started appearing everywhere together. The news was filled with my scandal. To prove my innocence, I swallowed my pride and went to the tournament officials, demanding the surveillance footage. But just as I found the key piece of evidence, Shannon had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. Her face was a cold mask. “Evan is young. Are you trying to ruin him? Haven’t you earned enough glory in your life?” Shannon and I had been betrothed since birth. From the day she was born, she was meant to be a Vance. After we married, we were the couple everyone envied. But now, for another man, she had destroyed me. I had never been so broken. I knelt before her, clutching her hands, begging. “Do you know what this tournament meant to me?” “It was my birthday. You said you had a gift for me. I don’t want anything else. Just give me back my name. Please?” I bowed my head to the floor, pleading with her. But she was ruthless. She had me locked away. In that place, I endured unimaginable torment, both physical and mental. I wasn’t sick, but they were determined to make me so. A month after I was admitted, a fire broke out in the hospital. Everyone died. I escaped with my life, but I might as well have been dead. “Noah, just admit to what you did. Apologize. Maybe then you can come back and live a normal life.” Shannon’s voice pulled me back to the present. I couldn’t help but laugh. Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do? The stares of the other guests were like daggers, all of them waiting for the next act of the drama. I looked at my mother. Meeting her cold gaze, I spoke softly. “Happy birthday, Mrs. Vance.” With those words, the last of my old attachments fell away. She was right. She didn’t want me as a son anymore. The papers had been signed. There was no reason for me to go back. Both Shannon and my mother’s eyes widened. “You were right. I don’t have a mother like you, either.” The color drained from my mother’s face. I turned to Shannon, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “No one knows the truth of what happened back then better than you. Don’t you feel even a little bit guilty?” I strode out of the hotel. Shannon followed me, sticking to me like a shadow all the way back to my apartment. She was a frantic mess of explanations and apologies. “I’ve regretted it every single day. I can’t sleep at night. I have to take sleeping pills just to get a few hours of rest.” “I…” As I unlocked my door, she tried to follow me inside. I blocked her path. I glanced at my watch and cut her off. “Miss Florence, my wife will be home soon. She’s a bit timid and doesn’t do well with crowds.”

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