The city’s hottest billionaire heir sneaked into my house late at night and stole my dog. Once he had him, he posted on Instagram: “Finally got my son back.” The picture was of him and a gigantic Alaskan Malamute. Half an hour later, the current It-Girl actress posted a selfie from her house: “Waaah, Daddy took my doggie. I’m so lonely by myself.” The topic blew up. Everyone swooned over their perfect celebrity romance. I returned to my penthouse after recording my show and saw the empty apartment. Wait! Where the hell is my dog? 1 I got home from filming a reality show late in the morning. Usually, the moment he hears me entering the security code, my dog bolts over, scratching frantically at the door. Today, there was silence. I pushed the door open and called his name: “Monster.” “Where are you? Mommy’s home.” I called several times, but he didn’t respond. I searched every room. I went through the entire place and couldn’t find him. Fearing something terrible happened to Monster, I immediately checked the security footage. On the screen, Rhys Shaw, the city’s billionaire prince, crept stealthily up to my door. He looked left, then right. He punched in the code and entered. Monster, who hadn’t seen him in two weeks, shamelessly wagged his tail and whined excitedly. Rhys clipped the leash onto him and led him out. The whole dog-napping process was so slick it made me laugh from sheer disbelief. I pulled Rhys’s number out of my blocked list and initiated a video call. He must have anticipated my call because he answered instantly, then pouted and turned away from the camera in classic arrogant fashion: “Hmph! Didn’t we say whoever looks back first is the dog? Why are you calling me?” I looked at Monster lying beside him, happily crunching on a treat. “Do you think I’d call you if you hadn’t broken into my house and stolen my dog?” “Do you even know what trespassing and grand theft are?” Rhys is Grandma Shaw’s favorite grandchild, pampered and arrogant since birth. He leaned back on the sofa, running his hand over Monster’s head, sounding pleased: “I took my son home. What law did I break?” I reminded him: “I bought Monster!” Rhys’s thin lips curved into a smile: “And I raised him from two months old. If you want to see Monster, come home.” I was exhausted from a day of filming and didn’t want to argue: “I’ll give you a million dollars. Monster is mine!” At that, Rhys shot up like a husky whose tail had been stepped on: “Serena Wu, you’ve got some nerve!” He angrily hung up the call. A few minutes later, Rhys deliberately posted a photo with Monster on Instagram, captioning it: “Sneaked my son away from my girlfriend.” I chuckled: “Immature.” 2 Early the next morning, I was woken up by my agent rushing me off to a taping. Last night, Rhys had hung up the video call, only to call back later, shamelessly claiming Monster missed his mom. I leaned against the car seat, half-asleep, and habitually checked the trending topics. To my shock, the top three spots were all about Rhys. #BillionairePrinceRhys Secretly Confirms Romance with Isla Chen! # #BillionairePrinceRhys Late-Night Dog Theft # #IslaChen Responds, Admitting Relationship # #BillionairePrinceRhys IslaChen Wedding Bells? # #SerenaWu Regrets Bullying Prince Rhys’s Girlfriend # I laughed at that last one. Who came up with that title? Isn’t that embarrassing? ‘Prince Rhys’s Girlfriend’? I should be Queen! Ever since Isla Chen debuted, every time she trends, she has to drag me down, giving me a reputation for stealing her resources. I clicked on a comment and went to Isla Chen’s Instagram. Her latest post, from last night, was a pajama selfie: “Waaah, Daddy took my doggie. I’m so lonely by myself.” It was posted half an hour after Rhys’s. Isla had even tagged him. The topic exploded that night, and major influencers reposted it. Netizens even spliced together unrelated videos of the two of them. [OMG! My favorite two people are together!!] [Three months ago, a paparazzo caught them skiing in Australia. The Prince denied taking ‘My Princess’ then. He’s eating his words now, LOL.] [My Princess, are you making it official because you’re getting engaged?] [The Prince is so humble around My Princess. He had to sneak in at night just to see the dog, LOL.] [Prince Rhys spoils My Princess so much! I’m so jealous!] Me: ?? Did Rhys steal Isla Chen’s dog last night? But didn’t she say in an interview that she was afraid of dogs and would never own one? 3 I scanned the comments. A follower asked her: [Are you and Prince Rhys really together?] Isla didn’t reply. A few minutes later, she liked several highly-liked comments wishing her and Prince Rhys a long and happy marriage. This confirmed the rumors that she and Rhys were an item. [My Princess has made it so obvious! The person asking above must be a hater sent by Serena Wu’s team.] [Asking is being a hater? If they’re really together, why hide it? I bet they’re faking it for clout!] [There must be a reason My Princess isn’t admitting it directly. Haters, leave!] [My Princess will announce it on Instagram immediately when she can! Trolls, scram!] The critics were annoyed and jumped over to Rhys’s comment section: [Mr. Shaw, is Isla Chen really your girlfriend?] Rhys quickly replied: [Says who? I don’t even know her!!] Isla’s fans (The Princess Crew) were upset: [My Princess will be so sad if she sees you say that.] Rhys immediately retorted: [Why should I care if she’s sad? Also, I don’t eat gruel, stop calling her ‘Princess Porridge’!] These comments quickly shot to the top. Netizens immediately screenshotted the exchange and posted it on Isla Chen’s page: [Stop lying! The Prince says he doesn’t know Isla Chen. You are so full of yourself.] The Princess Crew immediately swarmed the comment section: [We told you, he can’t confirm yet! Of course, the Prince has to deny it!] [Serena Wu’s fans have nothing better to do, always harassing My Princess.] [Just the other day, a famous singer also denied a relationship at first, but later confirmed it and now streams their love life constantly.] My agent saw the trending topics, her face grim. “You and Isla Chen debuted at the same time and both have the ‘Independent It-Girl’ brand. Your fan bases have always been feuding.” “Now that she’s connected to Mr. Shaw, she’s going to crush you.” My brain was overheating. Isla Chen would do anything for attention. She was actually impersonating Rhys’s girlfriend. My agent, seeing I was distracted, tried to console me: “Don’t worry too much. I’ll try to keep your work separate from Isla Chen’s. Today is the final episode of this show, so keep your distance and avoid confrontation.” 4 The production RV stopped at the filming location. As soon as I got out, cameras were on me. [Serena Wu’s dark circles are terrible. She definitely didn’t sleep after Princess Porridge and the Prince made it official, LOL.] [Look how sour she looks. She’s definitely green with envy.] [Did The Princess Crew forget to brush their teeth this morning? So much hostility.] [If Serena Wu tries to steal resources from My Princess again, Mr. Shaw will blacklist her instantly.] [The Prince will be hand-delivering resources to My Princess from now on.] I walked into the villa where we were filming. The other guests were gathered around Isla Chen, sucking up to her. The show is called Let’s Date. It features four men and four women living together for three days and two nights, all filmed live. As soon as I entered, the director focused the camera on Isla Chen and asked if her post with the Prince was an official announcement. “Well…” Isla Chen’s cheeks turned pink. She said shyly: “You’ll all know soon enough~” The director, eager to capitalize on the ratings, pressed on: “Can My Princess tell us what happened last night? Was the Prince’s late-night post a sign of affection?” Isla Chen playfully stamped her foot: “He insisted on bringing the dog to keep me company while I film. I said no, so he childishly sneaked the dog out while I was working.” I watched Isla Chen’s immersive performance, staring at her in disbelief. How could she weave such a detailed story without blinking? I couldn’t help but interject: “Didn’t you say in an interview that a dog bit you when you were a kid and you’d never own one?” 5 Isla Chen smiled shyly, looking at the camera: “I thought I would never have a dog again, but he gave me such a sense of security that I learned to love dogs again.” [OMG!! That is so sweet! My Princess is practically glowing with happiness talking about the Prince.] [My Princess’s smile is so sweet. If these two aren’t real, I’ll never believe in love again.] [How jealous is Serena Wu? She remembers everything My Princess said in an interview. Gross.] [Serena Wu always bullies My Princess! Stealing her screen time! Stealing her resources!!] [Who is the resource thief? My Queen lost that jewelry endorsement to Isla Chen a while ago! And Isla Chen is playing the victim? Give me a break!] [The brand thought My Princess had a better fit. She didn’t steal anything!] [Can Mr. Shaw please blacklist Serena Wu already!!] The director watched the live stream numbers explode. He inwardly cheered; the ratings were guaranteed. He was about to delve into how Isla Chen and Rhys met when a production assistant jogged over and whispered something in his ear. The director nodded, his eyes crinkling happily as he looked at Isla Chen: “My Princess, Mr. Shaw sent you a gift. He said it’s here to keep its mother company while she films.” One of the guests gasped: “Is it the dog?!”

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Everyone in the industry knows I’m the ex-girlfriend that top singer Jax “The King” Ryder despises most. On a reality show, a junior idol casually turned on the car stereo, playing the default playlist. The first song was mine. Two seconds into the intro, Jax, sitting in the passenger seat, said coldly: “Trash. Skip it.” The idol skipped it. The next song was mine. He skipped it again. Still my song. Jax’s face was dark. He glanced at the driver and sighed: “Kid, you’re young, but your taste is terrible.” The idol hesitated, then weakly spoke up: “Uh, Jax… this is your car, and that’s your playlist, dude.” Jax: “—Wait, what?!” 1 Jax and I are the Entertainment Industry’s Most Famous Opposing Exes. Our track record is legendary. Since we debuted, roughly one-third of our songs have been diss tracks aimed at each other. I don’t remember who started it. All I know is: he drops one, I drop one. He drops one, I drop one… Hatred is the number one driver of production. Fueled by Jax’s taunts, I managed to release ten albums in two years. When we were dating, only our closest friends knew. But nothing escapes the all-seeing eye of the internet. Our songs never named names, but when fans mashed our lyrics together, every single line sounded like a public feud. #JaxAndLena: Hollywood’s Pure-Hate CP #JaxAndLena: Did They Dig Up Each Other’s Ancestors? #JaxAndLena: Why Did They Break Up? How Can They Hate This Much? These kinds of twisted, viral hashtags kept hitting the trending list. As long as we were breathing, the drama continued. Jax and I consistently topped the charts as the Hottest Male and Female Artists for over a year. Then, at the end of the year, the platform invited us to accept an award. The host asked: “To both of you, now that you’ve achieved such success, is there anyone specific you want to thank?” I listed everyone dutifully: “I thank my family, my friends, my agent, my fans…” Jax, however, looked right at me: “I want to thank my ex-girlfriend for dumping me back then. She gave me endless inspiration for heartbreak songs. She is…” His lips curled slightly, a fake, chilling smile. “…my Muse.” Online, he calls me “a golem freshly chipped out of a horror movie” and “Picasso’s abstract painting brought to life.” And now, offline, I’m his Muse? That smug jerk. Always with the passive-aggression. On the drive home, I wrote a new song: Muse is just your cheap fake tear Packing up lies to hide your fear Washed up, voice cracked, who’s to blame here? Better go home and disappear Your inspo jumped ship when you lost me New album’s dead, not a mystery You got dumped, that’s your destiny That night, I immediately posted the new song demo and a teaser for my new album on Instagram. Fans went wild and immediately tagged Jax. It wasn’t until late that night that His Royal Highness, Jax, finally logged on. He first liked my post, then added a comment that was both friendly and aggressively passive: [6.] [Lena Shaw, you just wait. ‘Smiley Face’] 2 Making Jax miserable always makes me happy. I slept until noon. My agent, Deb, called, saying I had to attend a red-carpet gala. Deb gave me a warning beforehand: “I heard Jax is going to be there, too.” “If you don’t want to buy an annual subscription to the trending list, just be mature, say hello, and at least pretend to be civil.” I thought Deb was overreacting. With so many artists there, we probably wouldn’t even cross paths. I was wrong. The organizers, sent from hell, seated me right next to Jax! The moment I sat down, a figure quickly dropped into the seat beside me. He wore a dark blue bespoke suit, emphasizing his broad shoulders and long legs. His sculpted face looked, well, decent. Seeing the cameras flash in the distance and remembering Deb’s urgent plea, I forced a smile. Just pretend to be friendly? I can be the friendliest person here. “Good evening, Mr. Muse.” “Well, look who it is, Miss Rhyme-Time,” Jax smirked. “What, did you suddenly learn to be human? You’re actually saying hello to me?” See? You can’t give this guy an inch! The event was being live-streamed. As the camera swept over us, the comments section went ballistic: [Mr. Muse and Miss Rhyme-Time are in the same frame! Please lock the camera on them!] [Dark blue suit paired with a deep blue gown. What a beautiful couple.] [Please, Jax and Lena, date again! Just do it for my entertainment.] Truth be told, people in the industry are the biggest gossips. Since I walked in, several people had already subtly asked me what the deal was between Jax and me. Right now, I could feel countless eyes boring into us. Jax was uncomfortable under the scrutiny, too. He turned his head slightly, his ear tips turning red. I silently looked down— Wow, this table is so… table-y. Hahaha… In the comments, my fans and Jax’s fans were already locked in a fierce battle. But a strange new sentiment was starting to emerge. [Don’t you guys think Jax and Lena look like they’re just cold-shouldering each other out of hate?] [What is hate? Hate is just love that couldn’t handle the pressure.] [I feel like all their hatred is just them hating that the other person didn’t love them enough.] [A healthy relationship is nice, but a messed-up one has a certain flavor. Those who don’t get it are missing out!] 3 I couldn’t take it anymore. I scanned the room, looking for someone to swap seats with. “Sitting next to me is that much of a sacrifice for you, Miss Shaw?” I glared at Jax. “Mind your own business.” I didn’t know many people well. After searching for a long time, I still felt awkward asking for help. Ugh. Just endure it. Jax, seeing my defeated slump, looked even more smug: “I told you, give up. Being stuck with me is your destiny.” … Psycho. “Lena, want to swap seats with me?” A familiar voice called out. I turned around. Alec Sterling, the famous actor, was standing behind me. “Thank you, thank you! Thank you so much, Alec! You are saving me!” I stood up. “Hey, you…” Jax subconsciously grabbed my wrist. “What? You’ll miss me?” “Hah,” he scoffed, his mouth twitching as he slowly let go. “Please, get away from me. I couldn’t be happier.” [Lena stood up, and he instantly reached for her. See that? He’s panicked.] [Oh God, who dares to walk between Jax and Alec? The air pressure is so low, it feels like everything within a hundred feet is freezing.] [Rumor has it Lena and Alec dated, too. Judging by Jax’s dark-as-asphalt face, the rumors must be true.] [Rivals seeing rivals, the tension is real.] [I envy Lena. She has great taste. Everyone she dated is a total knockout.] That’s total misinformation. Alec is my aunt’s son—my cousin. My parents were overseas and neglected me, so I grew up at my aunt’s house. Alec is basically my brother. He starred in the music video for my new single a while ago, and we were briefly linked by the press. Jax still doesn’t know the truth about us. But I certainly wasn’t going to tell him. Alec was rushing to another commitment and had to leave before the event ended. Before leaving, he reminded me about my aunt’s birthday party next week. “Bro, what kind of gift would make Aunt Kathy happy?” “I think bringing a boyfriend home would make her happiest.” I pouted. “She’s always pushing. I just haven’t found anyone suitable.” “Oh, I see,” Alec chuckled. “I thought maybe you couldn’t get over your ex.” “No way! I haven’t liked him for ages!” Alec cleared his throat, nodding toward the space behind me. I turned around. I was met with Jax’s intense, resentful gaze. If looks could be lasers, my dear cousin would have two holes burned through him right now. [I won’t say who’s jealous, but I can smell the sourness through the screen.] [Jax: Alec, I will monitor you forever! Forever!] [Lena, go comfort him! I think he’s about to shatter.] I squinted and smiled. Then, out of the camera’s view, I subtly flipped him the bird. Heh heh! Jax shot me a furious glare. He turned away, his face pale with anger, his lips pressed into a tight, straight line. He didn’t look my way again. Little man. Can’t handle a joke. 4 One should never get carried away. Too excited from teasing Jax, I forgot I was wearing four-inch heels and twisted my ankle. My ride, of course, broke down halfway. I was hobbling alone through the dark underground parking garage. It was a truly pathetic sight. “Well, look at Ms. Shaw. Enjoying a midnight stroll barefoot?” A black Lexus SUV stopped in front of me. The rear window lowered. “Stroll, my butt. Can’t you see I twisted my ankle?” Jax looked at my swollen ankle, his brow furrowing. “No one picking you up? “Get in.” I held onto my dress stubbornly. “I don’t need your trouble. I can walk out and get a cab myself.” “Lena, are you getting in or not?” “No.” “Fine. Tough girl. Even tougher than when you dumped me.” The next second, Jax opened his door and lifted me over his shoulder. “You—” The sudden lift startled me. “Jax, you jerk, put me down!” He tossed me into the back seat, roughly. He then pulled out a tube of muscle rub from the glove compartment. “Take your shoe off.” “What are you doing?” “Stop talking. What do you think I’m doing? I’m going to steal your heels and sell them on eBay, okay?” Me: “…” Jax started applying the ointment, gently massaging the swollen area. It felt good. But it tickled, and I instinctively flinched. “Why are you flinching? What part of you haven’t I touched?” “Shut up, you.” “Cough, cough, cough…” A fit of violent coughing came from the front seat. “Jax, watch your words. I’m right here.” I leaned forward. “Leo! Is that you? Long time no see!” Leo is Jax’s personal assistant and has been with him for years. When Jax and I broke up, he went on a drunken bender at a bar. Leo went to pick him up, and Jax threw up all over him. Since then, Leo’s salary has tripled. So, in a way, I was the patron saint of Leo’s career. “Long time no see, Lena.” Leo is usually shy and reserved, but today he was unusually enthusiastic, asking about my life. Jax kept glaring at Leo, winking and twitching his eyebrows. I was confused. “Is your eyebrow spasming?” “Oh!” Leo suddenly understood. “Right, Lena, do you have a boyfriend right now?” If I said yes, I’d be lying. If I said no, I’d look defeated in front of my ex. I was trying to figure out how to answer. Jax interjected snidely: “Even if she does, they probably broke up. A boyfriend who runs off before his girlfriend even leaves and can’t pick her up when she twists her ankle? Useless.” I realized they were talking about Alec. I couldn’t blame Jax for the misunderstanding. I did ask Alec to pretend to be my boyfriend once just to tick Jax off. “We are not dating. Don’t spread rumors. I don’t want to be constantly trending. Got it?” “Oh, so they did break up.” Whatever. Let him think what he wants. I looked down at my phone and suddenly heard an uncontrollable burst of laughter beside me. I looked up, catching a glimpse of a fleeting smile on Jax’s face. “What are you laughing at?” “I wasn’t.” “Yes, you were! I saw it!” “Your eyes are messed up. Go get them checked.” “Want to bet? Bet your life!” “You get on your knees and beg me, and I’ll take the bet.” … Leo quietly raised the privacy screen in the front seat. This is too much.

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My sister is dead. Her body was laid to rest months ago, but today I received a text message from her phone. The message contained just three rules: “Watch out for anyone wearing red.” “The food Mom makes is safe to eat, but if you find teeth, nails, hair, or other things in it, do not tell Mom.” “Be home by 10 PM. Once inside, you must be in bed immediately!” 1 I was utterly creeped out. The message was absurd yet full of dire warnings. My sister died, and her phone was supposedly tucked away in a box under her bed as a keepsake. So how did it just send me a text? A cold dread washed over me. Unless… this was a delayed message my sister set up before she died. “Jessie, come and eat dinner.” My dad’s voice suddenly called out. He was sitting on the living room sofa, waving me over. “Dad.” I hesitated, then asked: “Did you guys touch my sister’s phone after she died?” The mention of my sister made my dad frown. His expression was strange. “What did you say?” I bit the bullet: “My sister sent me a text.” “A text? What did it say? Let me see.” Before I could react, my dad stood up and snatched my phone. A few seconds later, a faint smile appeared on his face. “Someone must have stolen your sister’s number. You don’t need to worry.” “You really don’t need to worry.” My dad repeated the phrase like a broken record. Then, he smiled, picked up the fork from the coffee table, and violently stabbed himself in the throat! His suicide was sudden, decisive, and done with incredible force. The metal tines pierced his throat. “Dad!” I screamed, rushing toward him. Bright red blood poured from my dad’s throat. He slumped onto the sofa, the faint smile still plastered on his face. “What’s wrong?” My mom walked in from the kitchen when she heard the noise. The moment I saw her, my pupils constricted. My mom… she was wearing a red dress! Yet, she always hated the color red; she didn’t even allow red items in the house. ‘Watch out for anyone wearing red.’ The message flashed in my mind again. Cold sweat prickled my back. I instantly felt wary and defensive toward my mom. “Why is your father dead?” My mom’s face showed no sign of grief, and her voice was completely flat. It was as if the person who died wasn’t her husband, but a stray cat. “I don’t know.” I kept my guard up, shaking my head. “Dad called me for dinner. When I came out, he had already stabbed himself.” Investigators arrived quickly. They were dressed bizarrely. They were men, yet they wore blood-red, ankle-length dresses. My mom claimed my dad was stressed and suffered from severe depression, leading to suicide. She was lying! My dad wasn’t depressed! He told me this morning that he was taking me swimming this weekend! I blurted out: “That’s not true! Dad he…” “He what?” The investigator stopped writing, twisting his head to look at me. I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs! The investigator’s appearance had warped. His face was stretched long, his eyes were far apart, near his temples—as alien and sudden as a snake’s head. “Why aren’t you speaking?” His head remained still, but his ominous, jaundiced eyes slid sideways, watching me. “Please continue to elaborate!” 2 “My dad… he was indeed very depressed. He often wanted to kill himself.” I forced the words out. The investigator nodded impassively, zipped my dad’s body into a bag, and wheeled him downstairs. Their movement when lifting the body was a strange, horizontal glide. As they turned the corner on the stairs, I saw a large, greasy-looking tail poking out from beneath one of the red skirts. My eyes widened. My breath was shallow, and my hands and feet started shaking uncontrollably. The world had fractured. From the moment I received that text from my dead sister, the world had become alien and grotesque. “Dinner time soon. I need to get your sister’s meal ready.” My mom turned and headed back to the kitchen. Through the doorway, I saw her hunched over a cutting board, violently chopping meat with a cleaver. The meat didn’t look like pork. It had thin skin, no visible fat, and a grayish-white color, like it had been frozen for too long. Thump, thump, thump. The sound of the chopping was deafening. I covered my ears and bolted out the front door. It looked like rain; the sky was a dull gray. People were strolling around the neighborhood. Some were walking their dogs, some watering plants, and others playing hopscotch. But, without exception, they were all wearing red clothes. As I passed them, a wave of sheer terror washed over me. These people looked like they were minding their own business. But their eyes were tracking me. Every move I made, their eyes followed! The little girl playing hopscotch was the worst; she was hunched over, leaning forward, but her face was twisted almost 180 degrees to stare at me! Cold sweat poured down my spine; I was shaking all over. “Sis, what are you doing?” Suddenly, a bright, clear voice called out. My younger sister, Lily, was walking toward me, carrying her long-braided doll backpack. “It’s getting dark. Why aren’t you going home?” I quickly looked at Lily. She wasn’t wearing red; she had on a white princess dress. I exhaled in relief. “Dad died, and Mom is acting strange.” Lily’s face instantly went paper-white. “Did Dad see the text message?” My eyes widened. “How do you know?” “My sister sent me a message, too.” Lily raised her arm and tapped her smartwatch a few times. The tiny screen displayed a message. “When Dad sees the message I sent you two, he will surely kill himself.” “His death is punishment for breaking a rule.” “If you don’t follow the rules, you will definitely die too!” Rules? Were the three sentences in my sister’s text message the key to survival? My heart dropped. I urgently asked, “What time is it right now?” Lily looked confused. She backed out of the text screen. The main watch face showed 9:59. “Run!” I screamed, grabbing Lily’s hand and sprinting toward our apartment building. My sister’s final rule emphasized: we must be home before 10 PM and immediately get into bed! We live on the third floor. If we ran fast enough, we could make it in time. But after only two flights of stairs, my feet felt like lead; every step was agonizingly difficult. “Lily, why are you so heavy?” I turned back and saw a horrifying sight. The doll on Lily’s back had turned into a bloody, raw baby’s face! 3 “What’s wrong, Sis?” Lily looked up at me, clearly bewildered. “Nothing! Let’s just run!” I turned my head, ignoring the wrinkled baby’s face. “Ah!” Lily suddenly shrieked. In my peripheral vision, I saw the infant clinging to her back, aggressively biting her shoulder. Lily’s white dress turned red as blood dripped onto the concrete stairs. I knew this grotesque infant was trying to stop my sister and me from getting home. “It hurts so much.” Lily threw off my hand. She crouched down, clutching her shoulder in agony. “I can’t run anymore!” “No!” My nerves were stretched taut. I screamed at Lily: “If we don’t run, we’ll die!” “It really hurts, Sis. It hurts so much I feel like I’ll die if I move.” Lily shook her head, gasping for breath. I frantically looked up at our apartment, only one flight of stairs away. The apartment lights were off. The red front door was open, an incomprehensibly deep black hole. “Sis, you go first.” Lily cried, twisting her shoulder, trying to dislodge the thing on her back. But the infant seemed welded to her skin. It wouldn’t let go. “Stop wasting time!” I raised my hand and, for the first time ever, slapped my sister across the face. Lily flinched, then stood up, her eyes red, and pushed me away. I fell to the floor, scraping my palms on the cement. The pain ignited my fury. I didn’t waste another word, hauling her up by her arm and forcing her to run. Dad was dead, Mom was changed. I desperately didn’t want my only sister to die too. As we reached the third floor, the hallway light flickered on. The dim light illuminated our doorway, faintly revealing a pair of feet wearing a red dress. The feet were pressed together, bare, with startlingly white, almost goat-like skin. I gritted my teeth, dragged my sister inside, and rushed into the apartment. Click. The house lights turned on. Under the harsh, blinding light, Mom stood there in a red dress, barefoot, holding a plate with an impassive expression. She spoke, her lips barely moving: “Time to eat.” The plate held slices of meat, pale white, piled high. “Mom, we need to go to sleep.” I pulled Lily toward our bedroom. Lying on the soft bed, I tightly shut my eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. Fortunately, in the final minute, we followed the text message rule: we got inside and lay in bed. I now completely believed in the rules. Because once we were home, I saw that the biting infant on Lily’s back had turned back into the harmless, braided doll. Lily’s shoulder was completely unmarked; there was no wound or blood. “Sis…” Lily whispered my name shortly after lying down. I quickly put my finger over her lips, making a ‘shushing’ gesture. Lily went silent. I took her hand and wrote on her palm: ‘Remember Big Sister’s text!’ The third rule was: ‘Be home by 10 PM. Once inside, you must be in bed immediately!’ If we just slept, as the rule instructed, we would be safe tonight. Then, a sickening, grinding sound started up. I knew that sound. When I used to eat Mom’s braised chicken feet, I’d snap the bones, letting them break through the skin, then eat the boneless foot. But this sound of bone and tissue tearing was loud and jarring. It sounded like human bone separation… Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I tightly clutched Lily’s hand, unable to relax. “Sis.” Lily spoke again, her voice hoarse, filled with fear and pain: “My watch is one minute behind standard time.” My heart dropped. That meant we hadn’t gotten home on time. So, was the horrifying noise I was hearing now the punishment for breaking the rule? No! No, the punishment wouldn’t be that mild. Because Lily’s hand bones were gone. I had just been holding her hand, but the bones in her palm had suddenly vanished. Her hand felt soft and rubbery, like a plastic glove filled with warm water. Filled with absolute terror, I frantically felt her stomach, arms, shoulders… Everywhere was the same. There were no hard bones beneath her skin. I opened my eyes in panic. Lying next to me was a corpse. A body completely drained of bone, looking like a human-shaped skin suit filled with water, soft and slack on the bed. It was my sister. She was no longer beautiful. Her face had melted like quicksand, erasing her features, looking twisted and utterly decomposed. “Sis.” Lily desperately forced her eyes open. The melted skin finally separated into a thin, black slit. It was her dark pupil. She mumbled something indistinct: “Don’t… believe…” Before she could finish, thud. A sharp crack echoed. The flower-shaped ceiling lamp crashed down. It landed squarely on Lily’s head. Red blood and white brain matter splattered all over me… 4 I screamed hysterically and blacked out. When I woke up again, Lily’s body was gone. The room was pristine, free of any blood. I didn’t even have any horrible, bloody stench on me. I looked up. The lamp was hanging exactly where it should be on the ceiling. Only Lily was missing. I stared at the lamp, feeling a bizarre sense of confusion. Lily and I had both gone to bed at 10:01 PM. Why was Lily dead, but I was still alive? After a long period of thought, I realized that the time specified in the final rule wasn’t objective time, but the time we subconsciously accepted based on a clock. I always believed I got home at 10 PM, so I was spared. But Lily was aware of the delay; she felt guilty. Therefore, the invisible hand of the rules extracted her bones and killed her. Suddenly, a strong aroma of roasted meat drifted in. The smell came from the kitchen. I stumbled out of bed and saw my mom with her back to me, using tongs to flip slices of meat in a frying pan. Her long black hair was loose. She was still barefoot, and her toenails were painted with red polish. But thankfully, she was wearing a white dress now, just like Lily’s. “Your sister is dead.” My mom said it without turning around. It was as if she had eyes on the back of her head. I tightly clutched the doorknob, afraid to get too close. “How did she die?” “You should know very well.” My mom turned around, looking directly at me. Her face was strange. Her eyes were red and swollen, like she had been crying in pain over Lily’s death for a long time. But starkly contrasting that grief, her lips were painted with bright red lipstick. “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I was asleep. I don’t know how Lily died.” My mom’s expression turned sorrowful. She said, word for word: “The light fell and crushed her head.” The image of the blood and brains splattering my face flooded my mind. My fingers, gripping the doorknob, began to tremble uncontrollably. “Lily died, but why is there no blood on the bed? Why is there no sign that anyone died here?” “You slept for two days. I cleaned everything up so you wouldn’t be upset when you woke up.” My mom paused. She suddenly reached out and touched my head. “You’ve slept for two days. Are you hungry? Go sit in the living room. I’ll bring you dinner.” Her palm wasn’t cold; it was warm. The touch on my head made my nose sting. I wanted to cry. In one day, I had lost my dad and my sister. Her affectionate touch felt like the familiar, loving mom I knew was back. “Silly child. Go wash your hands and get ready to eat.” My mom patted me gently. I went to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. The moment the water hit my hands, my eyes narrowed sharply. My mom lied! I hadn’t been asleep for two days! In fact, I might have only slept for a few minutes! The scrape on my palm from falling after Lily pushed me was still beading blood! But Lily died. How could my mom have cleaned the room in mere minutes? A more terrifying thought struck me. I only slept for a few minutes. That means I hadn’t followed my sister’s final rule. After 10 PM, I had not stayed in bed!

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My husband betrayed me. I decided to kill him. Later, as his body was breaking down and he was spitting blood, he confessed to me, apologizing for hurting me. I smiled and told him it was okay; I forgave him. After all, I was the one who had put arsenic in his food and laced his clothes with paraquat, ensuring his agonizing death. 1 It was nine o’clock at night when Marcus Black came home. His shirt reeked of cheap perfume, and his neck was covered in hickeys. “Welcome home, honey.” I pretended not to notice his cheating, even walking up to him to help him take off his jacket. “Go fix me something to eat. A late-night snack.” Marcus was polite and academic in public, but at home, he dropped the façade and ordered me around without hesitation. I asked him sweetly: “What would you like, honey?” “Whatever.” I obediently walked into the kitchen. I knew the truth. Marcus didn’t love me. While I was agonizing in the delivery room, giving birth to his child, he casually told me he was cheating. He was so arrogant because he assumed our child was my only anchor, and I would never dare divorce him. Marcus was wrong. Even without the child, I wouldn’t have left him after his betrayal. The best way to deal with a scumbag isn’t to leave him. It’s to kill him! On the cutting board, I already had fresh shrimp ready. Next to the board, water was mixed with a high concentration of Vitamin C. The combination of shrimp and high-dose Vitamin C produces arsenic when consumed by the body. I heated the oil, poured the live shrimp into the pan, and the extreme heat made them twitch and struggle violently. But within seconds, they changed color and died in the sizzling oil. Soon, the fragrant shrimp and a bowl of seaweed soup fortified with Vitamin C were on the table. Marcus looked impatient. “Can’t you cook faster?” I kept my head down, looking humble and remorseful: “I’m sorry, honey.” He grunted, picked up a shrimp, and ate it. I stayed still, not daring to move, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. Eat. Eat more. The more you eat, the faster you die! Thud. A sharp shrimp head suddenly landed on my head. Marcus wiped his hands with a napkin and sneered: “I cheated, but you keep trying to please me and suck up. You’re more obedient than a dog.” I covered my forehead, maintaining the illusion of silent devotion. “Oh, Sarah Green, Sarah Green. Do you think the more I cheat, the more afraid you are of losing me, and the nicer you become?” Marcus leisurely picked up the spoon and drank the soup. After one sip, he glanced at me, spitting out venomous, repulsive words: “You are truly pathetic. If I had known you were so desperate, I would have told you sooner: I slept with another woman on our wedding night.” 2 I flinched. His dirty hands touched someone else, then came back to touch me! The disgust made me physically ill. “Haha, are you upset?” Marcus grinned, holding up three fingers: “I didn’t just sleep with one; I slept with three.” I clenched my teeth, desperately trying not to throw up. On our wedding day, I was full of expectation. But he claimed a student needed him urgently and he had to return to the university. I truly regret it now. If I had known he was chasing other women that night, I would have called the police without hesitation. After dinner, Marcus openly called his mistress right in front of me. “Baby, I miss you so much.” Before he could say more, I put on a look of unbearable pain and rushed toward the balcony. I needed Marcus to see me as a weak, helpless wife who was silently suffering from her husband’s infidelity. Only then would he lower his guard. … Marcus had a habit of drinking milk before bed. I added a sleeping pill to his glass. He was dead to the world that night. Staring at the gentle rise and fall of his throat as he breathed, an intense urge to kill surged through me. I truly wanted to take a knife and slit his throat. But as the blade touched his skin, I forced myself to stop. To plan his silent murder, I had sent our newborn daughter to stay with distant relatives and constantly acted subservient to him. I had sacrificed too much and endured too much. I couldn’t let a moment of impulse ruin everything! Next, I used Marcus’s fingerprint to unlock his phone. He had three unread messages on his social media. “Are you coming back to see me tomorrow?” “Professor, you are so handsome. Can I pursue you?” “Professor, you bought two dresses online. Which color do you want me to wear? Pink or black?” I clicked on each profile. They were all beautiful female college students. Then, I looked through his chat history. Most of the students initiated contact with Marcus. Marcus had good looks and the aura of a university professor, naturally making young women flock to him. But he didn’t sleep with every student. After a careful check, I found Marcus had slept with fifteen students. Their common traits: beautiful, not locals, and from poor backgrounds. The student who had maintained the longest relationship with Marcus was named Maya Lin. I started scrolling through Maya Lin’s social media. In a photo dated November 25, 2021, a corner of Marcus’s shoe was visible. And the message, “Professor, you bought two dresses online. Which color do you want me to wear? Pink or black?” was from Maya Lin. Hah. This cheating couple has been together for four years. I smiled coldly, a vicious plan forming in my mind. I wouldn’t let the scumbag go. And the tramp wouldn’t escape either! 3 The next morning, I prepared Marcus’s breakfast: plain porridge, fried dough sticks (you-tiao), eggs, and hot milk. The fried dough sticks were cooked in cheap oil. The porridge contained a bit of sugar. The hot milk and sugared porridge, when eaten together, create fructose-lysine. Fructose-lysine can induce coronary heart disease and vascular blockages. Marcus ate everything. After he finished and left for work, I headed to the hospital. Last night, I had thoroughly researched the student Marcus had been cheating with for four years. Maya Lin, Nursing Major, a graduating senior, currently interning at the city’s top hospital. It was the best hospital in the state; countless medical students fought tooth and nail to get in. Maya Lin got the position easily thanks to Marcus… At the hospital. I immediately recognized Maya Lin among the nurses. She was very pretty, slender, and looked innocent. “Excuse me, how do I get to Lab B21?” I pretended to be lost and approached her. “Take the elevator to the 7th floor, then walk straight, then turn right…” Maya Lin’s voice was soft, and she was patient, but I felt sick. She was the mistress! I interrupted her, acting anxious: “I don’t know the way. Can you take me?” Maya Lin hesitated, then agreed. On the way, I played the victim, weeping that I might have cancer and was dying soon. My college major was psychology; I knew how to quickly establish intimacy. Maya Lin immediately showed concern. She took me to the lab and even added me on social media, saying if I had any questions about my condition, I could message her, and she would try to help. I was surprised. She wasn’t the arrogant, aggressive mistress I had imagined. After leaving the hospital, I subtly started extracting information from Maya Lin. She had a boyfriend. But she didn’t know her boyfriend was married. She was the unsuspecting other woman. … Three months later, under my careful nourishment, Marcus started showing signs of weakness. That day, the delivery man brought a new potted plant to the door and asked for acceptance verification. Normally, I would open the door and take the package. But I was conveniently in the bathroom and couldn’t come out. Marcus was teaching an online class, so he couldn’t immediately vent his frustration at me. I sat on the toilet, watching the surveillance video on my phone. Marcus politely told his students to wait a moment. He stood up, opened the door, and impatiently took the package from the delivery man. The moment the box landed in Marcus’s hands, his body swayed downward, and his expression changed immediately. It wasn’t anger; it was shock. I was ecstatic. He must be shocked that a grown man couldn’t hold a simple box! Hahaha! Every meal I meticulously prepared for him was designed to counteract the body’s functions. Celery and rabbit meat to cause hair loss. Liquor and dog meat to suppress the heart. Banana and beef to damage the spleen. Tomato and mung beans to deplete vital energy. … Thud! The potted plant fell heavily to the floor. A few clumps of dirt spilled from the box. Marcus staggered, staring at his hands in disbelief. I laughed uncontrollably. The countdown to death had officially begun. Marcus, enjoy the last moments of your cheating life! 4 I turned off the surveillance, took a deep breath, and adjusted my expression before leaving the bathroom. “Honey, what’s wrong?” I rushed to Marcus, looking anxious. “The box has a plant; it’s light. Why can’t you hold it? Are you too stressed from work lately?” “Get lost, you pathetic…” Marcus’s curse was cut short. He seemed to remember he was still teaching. He glared at me and rushed back to his study. I smiled, tossing the spilled dirt into the trash. … During this time, thanks to my psychology expertise, Maya Lin and I became close friends. Maya Lin told me everything. She told me her boyfriend was her university professor. She said she loved him so much she even had an abortion for him… I asked tentatively: “Why did your professor ask you to have an abortion? Wouldn’t getting pregnant be the perfect way to get married?” Maya Lin lowered her head: “He said he was at a critical stage of his career and didn’t want to be distracted by a child. But he promised to make it up to me with a grand wedding later.” I pressed: “Could it be that your professor is already married and is just playing with you?” “Absolutely not!” Maya Lin said without hesitation: “He swore to me that if he ever had another woman besides me in his life, he would be struck by lightning and die a horrible death.” I rolled my eyes. Marcus said the exact same passionate words when he married me. I guess there are too many scumbags, and God can’t strike them all down. So, I’ll just have to ensure he dies a horrible death myself! … Marcus’s health worsened daily. One morning, while drinking milk, he suddenly got a nosebleed. “What is going on?” Marcus tried to wipe the blood, but it only flowed faster. “Honey, what’s wrong?” My eyes widened. I frantically reached for a tissue. Marcus pushed me away. But he had no strength. I stayed put, pretending to worry: “Honey, are you under stress? Should I make you some cooling tea?” “Get out!” Marcus roared, covering his nose and stumbling toward the bathroom. But after only two steps, he collapsed to the floor. He had passed out. “Tsk tsk. You’ve been hollowed out.” I didn’t hesitate to kick him lightly. After twenty minutes, I finally dialed 911. Three hours later, Marcus woke up in the hospital. The test results were in. The report showed absolutely nothing wrong with his body. “Nothing wrong? If nothing’s wrong, why do I bleed from my nose and pass out?!” The inexplicable symptoms made Marcus drop his pretense. He yelled at the doctor: “The lab made a mistake! I want another full body scan, blood work, and physical examination!” The doctor looked at Marcus as if he were an idiot. Marcus wasn’t stupid. He understood the doctor’s disdain, which only fueled his fury. The angrier he became, the happier I was. I acted like a busy bee, dutifully paying bills and submitting forms. At the nurses’ station, snippets of conversation drifted my way. “The patient in room 302 looks presentable, but he’s a maniac.” “I know! This is the state’s best hospital. How could the lab make a mistake?” “You’re missing the point. Didn’t you notice that patient is Maya Lin’s boyfriend?” “What? He’s Maya Lin’s boyfriend? But his file says he’s married!” “Is Maya Lin a mistress…?” The nurses’ chatter set off an alarm in my head. I absolutely couldn’t let Maya Lin find out I was Marcus’s wife. If she grew suspicious, everything I had done would be ruined. … I hardened my heart and decided to move up Marcus’s death date! I went to a remote farming supply store and bought a bottle of Paraquat, a deadly herbicide. I also bought a new shirt that Marcus often wore. Back home, I soaked the brand-new shirt in Paraquat. The shirt soaked for a day and a night, then I rinsed it repeatedly until the smell was gone. To be safe, I used a test strip to check the Paraquat levels. Only after confirming they were minimal did I iron the shirt and put it in a luxury box to give to Maya Lin. “I bought this shirt for my husband, but it didn’t fit.” I gave the high-end gift box to Maya Lin, smiling: “I bought it overseas, so I can’t return it. Since you mentioned your boyfriend is the same size, I thought you might want it.” “Wow, this brand is expensive! Are you sure you want to give it to me?” Maya Lin was genuinely surprised. She had told me she came from a poor family and was saving up to buy Marcus a gift. Since I was handing her a ready-made one, she happily accepted it after a brief exchange of pleasantries. I smiled coldly. Paraquat is incredibly toxic. Just 0.01 grams is enough to kill a person. Marcus wouldn’t ingest it directly. But the shirt would be worn directly against his skin. The Paraquat would seep through his pores into his capillaries. In less than a month, Marcus would die a painful death!

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I wanted to buy my husband’s favorite Tang Sancai porcelain horse as an anniversary gift. But a mysterious buyer appeared mid-auction, immediately “lighting the sky lantern” (a term for an all-or-nothing, no-limits bid) and snatching the horse. As I was leaving, I received a notification that my husband’s supplementary credit card had been used at the auction house to purchase the exact Tang Sancai horse. In a panic, I immediately called the bank and froze the card. At the collection counter, a stunningly beautiful woman with a graceful figure fled amidst the mocking laughter of the crowd. Two weeks later, my husband, Liam Stone, and I went on a vacation abroad. Right after getting off the plane, I was drugged and abducted. I woke up to find myself locked inside an iron cage. The emcee on site spoke in broken English: “Today, we auction this woman! Highest bid wins!” And Liam Stone was sitting in the audience, his gaze dark, sinister, and vicious. “Chloe Vance, you love stealing other people’s thunder when they ‘light the sky lantern,’ right? Well, today, you can have your fill of stealing!” 1 I stared, horrified, at the dense crowd below the stage, my scalp tingling. Everyone held a copy of my body scan report, examining it and whispering judgmentally: “Look at this woman, she must be very well-maintained. Every part of her body is healthy. She’d be a prize, whether you bid on the whole package to take home and enjoy, or bid on individual parts for a sick relative.” “I’m shocked that Mr. Stone from the States would be so generous, putting such a fine woman up for auction. We can’t miss this rare opportunity.” “I heard the lady on stage is actually Mr. Stone’s wife. Once a man finds a new favorite, he doesn’t need the old one anymore.” Following their meaningful glances, I looked at Liam Stone, who was seated in the middle of the crowd. A chilling dread washed over me. My body, tied to the iron cage with ropes, continuously rattled against the bars, making a violent noise. I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that blood trickled between my fingers. Just yesterday, we were sweetly planning our trip, full of affection. But now, Liam’s “casual friend” who supposedly helped him bid on the porcelain horse, Summer Lin, was nestled sweetly and gently in his arms, smiling victoriously. “Liam, why are you doing this to me!” My voice was hoarse with breakdown, and I was already sobbing uncontrollably. Liam leaned back lazily in his chair, a mischievous, shallow smile playing on his lips. He spoke nonchalantly: “My wife is so graceful and generous, of course, I can’t keep her all to myself. Good things are meant to be shared, right?” The crowd erupted in cheers of impatience, urging the emcee to start the auction immediately. Big shots from different countries gathered together, holding up their black number paddles, frantically waving them and shouting whether they wanted my heart or my kidneys. Liam turned and kissed Summer, then stood up and walked onto the auction stage. He delivered a hard kick to the iron cage holding me. The impact split my lip instantly, and a metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Chloe Vance, as the organizer of this auction, I’ll give you special treatment. I’m granting you the right to bid on yourself—to ‘light the sky lantern’ for yourself—so you can get your fill of stealing other people’s thunder, and finally experience the embarrassment our Summer felt at the last auction!” His exquisite, refined eyes were full of mocking malice. The barely hidden murderous intent meant he had no intention of letting me leave the auction hall alive. “If you’ve got the guts, why don’t you ‘light the sky lantern’ then?” I shouted. Everyone burst into laughter, standing up to look at us. “What’s she going to light the sky lantern with? Didn’t Mr. Stone register all the joint funds under his name when he entered the venue? Unless Mr. Stone is willing to chip in, Mrs. Stone is completely broke.” Liam feigned a look of sudden realization: “Oh, my bad! I forgot that the auction rules only allow one person per joint account. That’s truly a shame, darling. I have to buy a necklace for Summer today, so I’m afraid I can’t help you out.” I widened my eyes in disbelief, unable to grasp that these words were coming from the mouth of the man I had loved for eight years. “You tricked me into going abroad, drugged me, kidnapped me, and specifically organized this black-market auction to sell me off here?” “Why, Liam? Just because I froze the supplementary card when Summer tried to ‘light the sky lantern’?” Liam looked down at me coldly, savoring my pain. “Of course! Do you know how helpless Summer was that day? She endured all that mockery. You can do the same, can’t you?” With that, he gave me no more chance to question him and turned to step off the stage. He coldly tossed back one last sentence: “Put the restraints on Miss Vance! Let her sit among the bidders and watch herself sink step-by-step into the abyss, helpless—that’s the best revenge!” Summer Lin, standing below the stage, winked at me with a malicious smile: “Miss Vance, I won’t compete with you today, okay!” ________________________________________ 2 The entire auction hall was filled with cruel cheers. Someone whistled and shouted: “Mr. Stone, are you really heartless enough to let someone abuse your beautiful wife to death? Ha ha ha…” Liam raised an eyebrow, his expression indifferent. “If my wife doesn’t want that, she can ‘light the sky lantern’ herself. If she can’t, that’s her choice. I’m a very democratic man.” The crowd nodded in agreement, their voices playful: “That’s true. I heard the little sister-in-law ‘lit the sky lantern’ herself when bidding on that Tang Sancai horse, but Mrs. Stone shut her down. She clearly has resources. We should witness it tonight.” Amidst the noise, the auction bell rang. I was pulled out of the cage, the iron chain around my neck dragging me like a dog. I was tied to a chair in the front row, directly facing the large screen. My body report and photos scrolled across the screen. The feeling of utter humiliation instantly consumed me. My hands trembled as I clenched them together, my mind racing. Liam had registered all of our joint assets under his name. According to the black market auction rules, one account could not be used by two people simultaneously. Right now, I couldn’t even produce a hundred dollars, let alone ‘light the sky lantern.’ Liam had precisely calculated this. He knew all my financial details. If even one part of my body was successfully bid on, it would be enough to utterly destroy my life. I was a lamb to the slaughter, tied to the gallows with no retreat. We had been married for eight years. I stood by him as he went from a nobody to the CEO of Stone Industries. I never once complained about the hardships along the way. After he achieved success, I willingly stepped back to be his supportive wife. Now, Liam was personally sending me to hell just to appease a mistress. The discussions around me never stopped, with all sorts of vulgar remarks flying back and forth: “Mr. Stone is such a player; the women he trains in bed must be spicy. I’m going to bid on Mrs. Stone whole in a bit and get a good taste.” “No way, I’ve been eyeing Mrs. Stone’s perfect feet for a long time. I’ll chop them off and turn them into art.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, using every ounce of effort to keep myself steady in the chair. Finally, the auctioneer walked onto the stage, took the microphone from the emcee, and announced that the auction was about to begin. I abruptly stood up, making the iron chains rattle loudly: “Wait a minute! I need to go wash my face!” Liam slowly turned to look at me, his eyes full of obscure mockery: “Chloe, don’t bother trying to escape. Security here is tight; not even a fly can get out. Save your energy.” I endured the physical pain and stared intensely into his dark eyes. “If not even a fly can get out, is it too much for me to wash my face and calm down? Or are you too stingy to even give me that much time?” Everyone in the room held their breath, watching us. Our eyes met, and an undercurrent of tension flowed between us—a silent battle. Several of his acquaintances frowned: “Don’t delay, Mr. Stone. We can’t wait any longer. Don’t listen to her; let’s start now.” “Exactly! She’s just wasting our time. My bathwater is ready at home; I’m just waiting to take Mrs. Stone back with me.” Finally, under everyone’s expectant gaze, Liam’s face turned cold, his eyes dark and sinister. “Shut up, all of you!” ________________________________________ 3 The host’s fury silenced everyone. The staff switched my shackles to handcuffs, and I walked with a straight back, stumbling toward the water basin outside the door. It wasn’t until the cold water hit my injured hands that the tension in my whole body instantly eased. I collapsed, exhausted, next to the water basin. The tears I had held back for so long finally streamed down my face. My phone was still in my pocket, but all the money in the account had been transferred out—the balance was $\$0.00$. If I were to be sold off tonight, I couldn’t even begin to imagine the torture that awaited me. I could be played with and then brutally dismembered and sold off, never finding peace even in death. And my mother, who was in a coma from a car accident and lying in a hospital back home, would have her medical funding cut off immediately upon my death, leaving her to die in absolute despair. At the end of my rope, I finally made a decision. Gritting my teeth, I opened the encrypted email and clicked on a long-dormant contact account. The rushing water forcefully beat against the stone basin, and the surrounding silence was terrifying. In this dilapidated, crisis-ridden venue, a giant devil seemed to be hiding, ready to rush out at any moment and tear me to shreds. I hit send on the encrypted text, and my hand dropped heavily. Five minutes later, I dragged my chained feet back to the venue. When I pushed open the door, everyone looked up with excitement. There was astonishment, mockery, and impatient mischief. Liam Stone was holding a cigarette between his fingers, the swirling smoke briefly obscuring his vague expression. He then pulled Summer Lin closer and, looking down at me, spoke word by word: “My darling, I love you, so anyone who dares to bully you will pay the price!” I walked back to my seat, not looking at him, a trail of bright red footprints staining the floor. My voice was raw and broken as I said: “Start the auction now.” The crowd buzzed. The auctioneer looked at Liam questioningly. He chuckled and nodded: “Since Chloe is so impatient herself, let’s officially begin.” The moment he finished speaking, the lights in the auction hall shifted. The first set of auction information flashed onto the large screen: my hands. From my wrists to my fingertips, every inch was captured in high-definition detail; even the pores were clearly visible. I was still ridiculously wearing my ten-carat wedding ring on my right hand. Like a Shakespearean tragedy, everyone was witnessing my utter patheticness. Sitting below the stage, I already wished I were dead. Liam took Summer and sat down in the seat next to mine. Leaning close to my ear, he whispered: “As husband and wife, my Summer is generous. If you apologize to her and agree to divorce with nothing, I’ll help you this one time.” My lips curled into a cold smile. So, he didn’t just want my life; he wanted to steal our joint assets. And then, he would proudly marry his mistress, all while acting like the victim of a failed marriage. I remained silent, answering his provocation with indifference. The bidding shouts soon started: “Mrs. Chloe Vance’s hands start at five million, with a minimum bid increase of one million.” As soon as he spoke, people raised their paddles, the price quickly escalating to twenty million. Liam’s voice continued beside me. “Think carefully, darling. It might be too late soon.” The bidders were already leaning closer, their eyes full of greed, staring at my tightly clenched fists, waiting for the final gavel. Just then, I, who had been silent all this time, slowly raised my hand. My eyes were filled with desperate resolve. I spoke firmly: “I ‘light the sky lantern!’” ________________________________________ 4 Everyone in the auction hall was stunned. “What’s going on? Where did she get the money to ‘light the sky lantern’?” “She’s still trying to put on a show at a time like this. This woman is something else.” I held my neck stiffly, my gaze never leaving the screen. Liam sneered coldly, clearly convinced I was faking it. Summer Lin whined, pressing her full chest against him and speaking in a high-pitched, affected voice: “Mrs. Stone is hilarious. Liam said he could help her, but she’s still stubbornly holding onto her pride. She really must want to jump into another man’s bed. What a tramp.” Liam pulled a contemptuous face, his voice as casual as a stranger who couldn’t care less. “She wants to put on a show, so let’s watch the show. She’ll only lose more miserably later.” “Don’t forget I set the rule: if someone ‘lights the sky lantern’ but can’t afford to pay, they have to serve guests for free for a week in the auction house’s underground club.” The auctioneer heard Liam’s words and immediately straightened up: “Miss Vance, are you sure you want to ‘light the sky lantern’? Please do not disrupt our normal procedure, or you will face the penalty.” My fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. My jaw was tightly clenched. Layers of dry, stinging pain welled up in my eyes. I forced myself to reply: “I’m sure. Light the sky lantern.” The whole room roared with laughter. They clamored for immediate on-site verification of my funds. “She has to verify her funds right now! We can’t all be fooled by her playing games!” “Mr. Stone just showed us your account balance—not a single penny! And you still have the nerve to pretend.” Liam shrugged indifferently amidst the laughter. “Chloe, why are you doing this? Since you’ve made your choice, you can’t back out now. I can’t help you anymore.” With that, he crossed his arms, settled back firmly into his chair, and mockingly waited for the auctioneer to organize the verification. The crowd began rhythmically clapping their hands. Louder and louder, the sound grew into a huge, invading wave that battered my eardrums. “Verify! Verify! Verify!” I sighed, pulled out my phone, entered the password, and handed it to the verification officer who had approached me. “Take it and check. Just remember to return it to me later.” The verification officer took the phone with bad grace, a mocking curve on her lips, and grumbled resentfully. “What a joke. We already checked your account. Why go through all this trouble? No wonder people dislike her; it serves her right that even Mr. Stone hates her.” The others pointed and discussed. “Exactly, exactly! This is so funny. If this were in bed, I’d cure all her defiance.” “Look, everyone! Her legs are shaking so much the chains are rattling. When her balance comes up zero, she better not wet her pants. I’m still waiting to bid on her legs.”

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Just because my six-year-old son, Leo, stumbled while walking through the garden and accidentally crushed a single rose, Liam Kingston flew into a rage. He ordered Leo locked in the garden and demanded he plant 999 roses to replace it. Liam didn’t notice Leo was stung by a bee, collapsing on the lawn, convulsing and struggling. I screamed and cried, knocking my head against the iron gate like a madwoman: “Liam, open your eyes and look! Leo was stung by a bee, he’s allergic to bees! Open the gate now, or he’ll go into shock and die!” Liam put his arm around his childhood sweetheart, Holly Chen, and looked down at me dismissively: “Clara, I told you before, this is a private garden I specifically made for Holly. No unauthorized person is allowed inside.” “You’ve indulged Leo time and time again. Now he gets stung a few times and can’t handle it? Stop with this ‘allergic’ nonsense—it’s all your fault for spoiling him!” Holly Chen rolled her eyes in disgust. “Look, sis, a loving mother often spoils her son. Your son has ruined so many of my flowers already. He deserves a lesson.” With that, they embraced and walked away. I could only swing the rusty iron shovel, continuously smashing the gate, but it was too late. I watched helplessly as the red, swollen rash on my son’s body spread, his struggling movements grew weaker, and finally, he went silent. I collapsed to my knees, desperately begging my son to wake up and call me ‘Mom’ one more time, but he never responded. An hour later, I finally smashed the gate open. At the same moment, Liam posted a picture of an ultrasound on social media. [One more precious life for me to protect in this world. Thanks for your hard work, @HollyChen] My heart was dead. I placed the signed divorce papers in the study and made arrangements with the funeral home. Then I liked his post and commented: [Wishing your little love child a safe journey to adulthood.] 1 The next second, Liam called. His furious voice instantly exploded in the solemn, silent funeral home: “Clara Vance, what is that comment supposed to mean!” “Holly and I are childhood sweethearts! It’s only right for me to take care of her when she accidentally gets pregnant with my child!” “And what the hell happened to the garden! You smashed the gate and took Leo—fine—but did you deliberately stomp up the lawn and leave those holes? You and your son are trying to destroy things on purpose, aren’t you?” “Don’t think I’ll let you get away with it this time! You and Leo get your butts back here and plant all 999 roses, or don’t bother coming back into my Kingston house!” I lowered my eyes. My hands were red and swollen from smashing the gate with all my might, and my heart ached sympathetically. Not far away, the mortician was carefully removing the bee stinger that had taken my son’s life: “Liam, Leo is dead. And I will never step inside your house again.” The person on the other end paused, then seemed to laugh out of anger. “Clara Vance, you’re incredible. Got addicted to fighting for attention, did you? Now you’re even cursing your son to death?” Then, a woman’s soft gasp came through the line, instantly halting all my words. Remembering the ultrasound photo I had just seen—Liam and his mistress had a new baby coming—he truly didn’t care if my son lived or died. I sighed deeply. “Liam, I signed the divorce papers and left them in the study. Sign them, and you can live happily ever after with your sweetheart.” The moment I finished speaking, two frail, stooped elderly people entered, leaning on canes. “Where’s my little Leo? How did something happen to him for no reason?” Seeing the two elders who genuinely loved my son, the tears I had been fighting back finally fell. I collapsed, sobbing, into Grandma Kingston’s arms: “Grandpa, Grandma, it’s my fault as a mother. I didn’t watch Leo properly, and he had to suffer so much when he left.” Grandma Kingston and I cried together. Grandpa Kingston forced himself to step forward to look, and two lines of clear tears finally ran down his face: “Didn’t I order all the beehives near the villa cleared? And arranged for dedicated patrols! Where did the bee come from that bit my Leo and caused his reaction!” “It must be that bastard’s private garden, isn’t it!” I managed a bitter smile. Liam wasn’t unaware of Leo’s bee allergy. He had even leveled the villa garden and poured cement on it once, just to prevent accidents. He became a different person after Holly Chen came back. Not only did he allow Holly to replant flowers and plants, but he also indulged her in keeping bees in the garden, calling it “returning to nature and coexisting.” When I tearfully confronted Liam, holding my son after he had another allergic reaction, Liam just lazily lifted an eyelid. “Oh, then I’ll have someone install a fence. Leo won’t be able to get in, so there’s no danger.” An iron fence might keep people out, but how could it stop flying bees? In an instant, the image of my son struggling in pain before he died reappeared in my mind. I couldn’t smash that cursed iron gate open, only watch helplessly as my son convulsed wildly on the lawn until he stopped moving. When he died, his whole body was rigid, covered in red rashes and marks, and his large eyes were filled with lingering attachment to the world. Unwilling to accept it, I carried him to the mortician, begging him to conceal those awful scars. As if doing so could bring back the sweet boy who called me ‘Mom’ in his baby voice. As if he had never experienced such great pain. As if, the next second, he would wake up. But it was just wishful thinking. The mortician covered the last patch of red rash, put down his brush, and walked towards me with a look of sorrow: “Ma’am, the young master is ready. He can be on his way now.” It was then I realized the phone call hadn’t ended. Liam’s mocking voice rang out: “Clara Vance, are you addicted to playing the tragedy queen? Fine, rope my grandparents into your act, but now you’re getting people to say your son is ‘on his way?’ What, are you guys still at the funeral home?” Exhausted, I didn’t want to waste another word on him. “Yes, Leo is at the funeral home. If you come now, you can see him one last time.” To my surprise, he sneered: “Clara Vance! Have some shame! He just got a bee sting! If he was really allergic, a trip to the hospital would fix it. You think I’m that easy to fool?” “Seriously, like mother, like son. No wonder Leo has been so whiny and prone to lying lately!” Unable to listen any longer, Grandpa Kingston snatched the phone and burst into curses. “You bastard! Are you still sticking with that fox right now? Get your butt over here immediately!” As soon as he finished, he clutched his chest and violently threw the phone. Grandma rushed over to help him, but Grandpa pushed her away, crying helplessly: “The family is cursed! Your grandson says even if Leo really died, it doesn’t matter, because that fox has another one in her belly, and that one will surely be better behaved! You monster!” Grandma froze too, her cloudy eyes brimming with tears. She turned and pleaded with me sorrowfully: “Clara, please don’t listen to his nonsense. We only recognize the child you bore.” “Don’t worry. Your grandpa and I are going home right now to kick that fox out and make that bastard grovel and apologize to you!” A lump rose in my throat, and I shook my head. “Grandma, it’s alright. Since Liam’s heart has already strayed, I’ll just take Leo and leave.” “I’m tired after all these years. It’s time for me to go.” The two elders stared at me blankly, but in the end, said nothing more. The three of us stood mournfully before the crematorium oven all night until the staff handed me a small jar of ashes. I settled the urn and drove straight home. My son’s belongings were still in that cold house. I wouldn’t leave them for Liam, who didn’t love him at all. But as soon as I opened the door, a festive party atmosphere hit me: “Wow, Holly is amazing! She’s carrying a little princess for our big brother, Liam!” 2 The whole house was covered in pink. Liam and Holly’s friends were holding up wine glasses. One person disdainfully waved the divorce papers I had left. “Liam, your pathetic wife is quite gutsy, divorcing you and saying she’s leaving with nothing.” “She’s clearly crazy. A poor woman taking a child and leaving? Doesn’t she know her place?” “Honestly, if she wants to go, let her. What kind of brat did she give birth to? He reeks of poverty. It’s embarrassing for our Liam to take him anywhere!” “Exactly! Let’s encourage Holly to have a second one—a real Kingston young master!” The group burst into laughter. I pushed the door open and walked in, and everyone immediately went silent. Liam glanced at me casually, tightening his embrace around Holly Chen, acting as if he didn’t see me: “No need for ‘young master, young master.’ My daughter can be brilliant and talented too.” “Holly and I started training her even before she was born.” With that, he placed a small model airplane on Holly Chen’s slightly bulging belly. I instantly recognized it as the toy my son loved most—the first model Liam had helped him assemble. Even though I bought him many more expensive and better-looking toys afterward, Leo stubbornly insisted on sleeping with this small plane, simply because it smelled like his dad. Now, his dearest dad was going to give it to another woman’s child. I could no longer suppress my emotions and rushed forward, crying out: “Liam, your son’s body isn’t even cold yet! How can you do this to him!” The temperature around Liam instantly dropped. He slapped me across the face. “Clara Vance, what’s this ‘body not even cold’ nonsense? Are you addicted to acting now?” I couldn’t dodge in time. The back of my head struck the corner of the table, and warm liquid began to trickle down. And my son’s most treasured toy plane was cruelly thrown to the floor and smashed under Liam’s foot: “It’s just a toy! What’s wrong with giving it to his little sister? Is this how you teach a child?” “You didn’t even plant one rose and left a bunch of holes. Now you and your son dare to challenge me, huh?” Seeing his face, the image of my son’s painful death flashed through my mind. I wanted nothing more than to drag him to my son’s ashes and make him apologize. But my son’s comforting words, spoken that afternoon while he was holding the rose sapling, echoed in my ears: “Mom, don’t cry, don’t blame Dad. It’s Leo who should be punished. Leo can do it!” “But Dad was a little mean. He didn’t comfort me when I fell, and he scolded me. Next time, I won’t talk to him!” “Mom, let’s both ignore Dad next time, okay?” I closed my eyes, struggling to suppress the surging grief, and spoke slowly: “Yes, I don’t deserve to be a mother. And I don’t deserve to be your Kingston daughter-in-law. Sign the divorce papers, and from now on, we have no connection.” Liam looked at me, a cruel smile playing on his lips: “You want me to sign the divorce papers? Fine. You kneel over here, beg Holly Chen’s forgiveness, and apologize for spoiling your child and ruining her garden, and for interrupting today’s celebration party!” “The moment she’s satisfied, I’ll sign.” Hearing this, Holly Chen straightened her back and looked at me mockingly. The others also became interested, their eyes fixed on me. Some even started betting: “I bet a hundred bucks she won’t kneel. She really thought she could make Holly leave, and now she looks like a fool.” “She’ll probably end up sobbing and begging Liam to forgive her. That ‘dead’ son will probably come crawling back, and the mother and son will accept the punishment together.” The next moment, I pushed myself up and hit the ground with a loud thud. “I’m sorry! I was wrong!” A fragment of the toy plane plunged into my forehead, and blood streamed down. I seemed not to feel the pain, moving one knee, one step, one bow at a time, yet never reaching the end. Because every step I knelt forward, Holly Chen giggled and took one step back, leading me around the room like a dog on a leash. The surrounding voices slowly changed from spectacle to concern: “Liam, Holly, maybe that’s enough. Look how much blood she’s losing. Someone might actually get hurt.” “Yeah, look how pale her lips are. Is she actually in danger?” “She wants to leave anyway, so it works out. It’s about time you gave Holly a proper title, Liam.” I paused and looked back. The fluid flowing from my head had left a long, shocking trail of blood. I had no intention of stopping. As I prepared to knock my head again, Liam kicked me down. He flung the signed divorce papers in my face: “That’s enough! I signed it! Stop playing the victim here and fishing for sympathy! Don’t think I wouldn’t dare to divorce you!” “Take your child and get out! But you better remember, if you walk out that door today, your son won’t inherit a single cent!” “Don’t you dare try to make me acknowledge you or your son ever again!” 3 Having lost too much blood, I couldn’t stand steadily. I barely picked up the agreement and got to my feet. Liam stared hard at me. I simply flipped to the last page, confirmed the signature, and smiled: “Fine. I’m going to pack Leo’s things and leave.” With that, I turned and entered my son’s room. When the door closed, all the noise outside instantly stopped. I leaned against the door, my eyes blurring with tears. My son’s small blanket wasn’t folded, and the fairy tale book he hadn’t finished last night was still on his bedside table. It was as if, any second, he would jump out of the closet in a ghost costume to scare me. I wiped my tears, dragged the suitcase out of the closet, and began packing my son’s things. Clothes, toys, books, little crafts he made at preschool—I cried and laughed as I carefully packed them one by one, until I found a palm-sized message in a bottle. Inside were yellowed slips of paper. I opened one in a daze, and it turned out to be IOUs written between him and his father. When Leo was three and wouldn’t leave my side, he constantly threw tantrums about sleeping with me. It annoyed Liam so much that he would sneak into the room every midnight and carry me back to our bedroom: “This is ridiculous! I gave birth to an inconsiderate love rival!” “Honey, I miss you too. Can you spend more time with me?” Before he could reach the room, the small ball of awakened flesh would chase after him, hitting and cursing Liam, calling him the thief who stole his mom. Left with no choice, the father and son agreed to alternate nights. Whoever wanted an extra night had to write an IOU to the other. Liam had a lot of tricks for coaxing his son, and slowly, he racked up a huge stack of IOUs. When Leo asked him to repay them, Liam would use some crooked logic to appease him. However, after Holly Chen returned to the country, I spent more and more nights sleeping with my son. I thought he would be happy, but he became gloomier every day. “Mom, did you and Dad fight? Dad hasn’t come to see Leo for a long time.” He pulled me to the master bedroom, knocked on the door, and said he would write an IOU for Dad so Mom could sleep with Dad. Holly Chen was sprawled on the bed, her face flushed. The image of that breakdown rushed back. My heart gave a sudden, painful lurch. Not wanting to recall it, I trembling opened my son’s last note. It was written in wobbly, childish handwriting: [I want Mom and Dad to take me to Disneyland to see the fireworks!] My son had been asking for this wish since the beginning of the year, but Liam always canceled because of Holly Chen, and they never went. Now, he was gone, and he would never go. Suppressing the rising tide of regret, I booked a flight for the next afternoon and closed the suitcase. My body instinctively lay down on my son’s small bed, trying to capture his last scent. My exhausted mind involuntarily relaxed. I fell asleep, only to be awakened in the middle of the night by an abnormal shaking. I opened my eyes groggily. Right before me were Liam and Holly Chen, kissing! “Liam, didn’t we come here to see how to convert this room into a princess room? Why are you fooling around again?” I sat up abruptly. Liam glanced at me provocatively and didn’t stop what he was doing. Holly Chen looked at me with seductive eyes. “Sis, don’t be mad. We just wanted Leo to get used to his little sister’s presence early. After all, they’ll be growing up together.” “After this, can’t the five of us just live together happily?” They were openly making love on my son’s bed. My stomach lurched violently, and a wave of nausea rushed to my head. Liam saw me shaking with rage. Instead of feeling guilty, he adopted an accusatory tone: “Clara, I looked into it. Leo didn’t go to the hospital for an allergic reaction that day. Where did you hide him?” “Enough is enough. If you keep making trouble, I really won’t want you or your son anymore.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I suddenly vomited all over both of them. Liam froze for a moment. Holly Chen’s face changed drastically. She suddenly clutched her stomach, looking distressed: “Liam, my tummy hurts so much… so much…” Liam anxiously picked up Holly Chen, knocking me over in the process. “If anything happens to the baby in Holly’s belly, I’ll make your son pay for it!” I was left alone in the room again. I quietly got up, pulled the suitcase, and staggered out. It was still dark outside, the streets were empty, and the cool night wind whistled into my collar, making me shiver. Dizzy from blood loss, I didn’t stop walking. Finally, at dawn, I reached the cemetery. The plot I bought for my son this morning held an empty coffin. I knelt beside it, opened the suitcase, and placed his favorite things inside one by one. I left only an empty space for the urn. I looked at the urn in my hand, feeling as if my son were in my arms: “Mommy will take you to see the world, and then we’ll come back to rest, okay?” 4 Liam took Holly Chen to the hospital for a full night of checks. Only after confirming the fetus was safe did he finally breathe a sigh of relief. He sat wearily in the waiting area outside the examination room, rubbing his temples. The vomit on his clothes had dried, but the foul odor lingered. Normally, he would have blown up and forced Clara to clean up, but at that moment, he was inexplicably afraid. He realized all of Leo’s things were packed up, and Clara’s expression had been so sorrowful. Just then, Butler Dong, who specifically cared for his grandparents, rushed over. Liam irritably waved him off. “Dong, if you’re also here to lie to me that my son is dead, just shut up. I won’t believe it.” Butler Dong’s eyes showed a look of complex distress, but he bowed respectfully. “Young Master, this time it’s not Young Master Leo. Your grandparents have been hospitalized with a heart attack. If you have time, please visit them.” Liam rushed to the intensive care unit. As soon as he pushed open the door, a glass cup instantly smashed against the doorframe, shattering. Grandpa, wearing an oxygen mask, looked like he wanted to tear Liam apart: “You monster who killed his own son! You have the audacity to come see me? Get out!” The monitoring equipment emitted a piercing alarm. Butler Dong quickly stepped forward to calm Grandpa. “Mister, the dead cannot be brought back. Please take care of yourself.” Liam was still confused, and the pent-up frustration of the past two days finally burst out: “Are you all sick? I already checked the hospital records! My son was never here, and there are no medical records for him!” “He was only in the garden for a few hours! How could he possibly be dead? Did he really die from a bee sting?” Grandpa’s suddenly widened eyes were filled with disappointment. He then fell back onto the hospital bed, weakly ordering the butler: “Dong, you tell him.” The butler sighed. “Young Master Leo was indeed stung to death by a bee. But when the private doctor and the ambulance arrived, it was too late. So the Madam took him directly to the funeral home.” As if afraid Liam still wouldn’t believe it, the butler turned on the TV, playing the surveillance footage from two days ago. Liam finally saw Leo struggle to dig the first hole, then get stung on the calf by a bee. Strangely, Leo, who usually feared bees the most, didn’t cry or fuss this time. After glancing at the wound with teary eyes, he gritted his teeth and continued digging the hole, planting the rose sapling crookedly, trying to bury the stinging pain. Liam remembered that was why he hadn’t believed Clara’s story—Leo didn’t cry or fuss. He thought Clara was just making a scene because she felt sorry for the child. Grandpa spoke heartbreakingly, “Leo didn’t even dare to cry to make you happy! Look at what kind of father you are!” Liam stumbled, leaning against the wall, his eyes glued to the screen. He saw the red rash on his son’s body spread wider, the allergic reaction worsening, until Leo suddenly collapsed and convulsed. He knew what that was—anaphylactic shock. The first time his son had a reaction, he was so scared he prayed all night in the ancestral hall for his son’s safety. And this time… Liam had been deaf to it all, embracing the aunt his son hated most, buying princess dresses for another unborn child. Only Clara was left, frantically smashing the iron gate. The surveillance video ended with Clara agonizingly holding her son’s body and weeping. Liam’s heart was also instantly clenched, tears streaming down his face helplessly: “What have I done? What have I done!” Grandpa was trembling with anger. “You monster! Even if Leo did something wrong, couldn’t you have just punished him simply? Why force him to plant 999 roses?” “He’s only six! Could he even plant them all?” “You destroyed your own family for a fox! Was it worth it?” Another glass cup was thrown, hitting Liam right on the nose. The pain forced him to bend over, but he still tried to defend Holly Chen: “Grandpa, Holly Chen did nothing wrong! And she’s pregnant with my child now! If you have to blame someone, blame me!” To his surprise, Grandpa got even angrier. “She did nothing wrong? She is the culprit who caused your son’s death!” The butler continued, “We investigated. Holly Chen kept her bees near the villa, and almost every window frame was smeared with honey.” “And Young Master Leo has already had to have the private doctor come over more than ten times in the last three months because of bee stings.” “I suspect Young Master Leo’s death was not an accident. We have already contacted the police to get involved.” Liam felt as if he had been struck by lightning, unable to believe what he was hearing. The door of the intensive care unit was suddenly pushed open. Several bodyguards dragged a fiercely struggling Holly Chen inside. Seeing Liam, she cried out as if he were her lifeline: “Liam! You have to help me! These people dragged me into the operating room without a word and poked my baby with a needle as long as my arm!” “What if something happens to the baby? I don’t want to live anymore!” Butler Dong looked down at her and sneered, “Holly Chen, we just invited you to cooperate with a paternity test to see if the child in your belly is a Kingston.” “The results? See for yourself!” A document was flung in front of Holly Chen. She panicked instantly. “I won’t look! I won’t look! It’s fake! Liam, don’t believe them! They are deliberately trying to break us up!” But Liam, who always listened to her, seemed like a different person. He bent down and picked up the report. The words were clearly printed on the paper: [Based on the results of this DNA test, there is no biological relationship between Liam Kingston and the sample.] Liam’s face turned deathly pale. Holly Chen broke free of her restraints, scrambled up to look, and saw the same line. She immediately dropped to her knees with a thud: “Liam, I swear I didn’t know this child wasn’t yours! It must have been the drink I had before I came back home!” “I’ll abort it right now, okay? Once I abort it, I’ll try again to have yours! Please, don’t leave me!” Holly Chen hugged his leg, crying hysterically, but Liam didn’t hear anything. All sorts of noises flooded his mind. After a long while, Liam finally spoke in a hoarse voice: “What about Leo? Where is he buried now?” “And Clara? Is she gone? Where did she go?”

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You think you’ve had an embarrassing day? Let me tell you how mine imploded during a lecture. I’m Ava, barely passing a class I hate. To skip it, I hired a substitute. Simple, right? Wrong. When the professor called my name, a guy stood up. The professor asked, “Ava Duffer is a man?” My substitute smoothly replied, “I’m her boyfriend, recording the lecture.” Just as I cringed, another person stood—my actual boyfriend, Jonathan Croft, the CS golden boy. Calmly, he said, “Actually, I’m her boyfriend. So who are you?” The room erupted. But they didn’t know this “real” boyfriend had told me my art dreams would leave me “rotting in the gutter” a month earlier. In the silence, I turned to Jonathan and announced, “Didn’t we break up? My new boyfriend and I have better things to do.” 1 I’d been sitting motionless in the university art studio for ten hours when my roommate called. “Ava, you have to see the campus gossip blog! You’re famous! Hahaha!” Her voice crackled with amusement. “Seriously, though, you should probably go talk to Jonathan.” My fingers, stiff and aching, fumbled with my phone. At the top of the blog was a video of the whole disaster. The professor calling my name. The substitute’s confident “Here!” The professor’s suspicion. The substitute’s brilliant, disastrous lie about being my boyfriend, painting me as some diligent student. And then, the grand finale: my actual boyfriend exposing the whole charade. The comment section was a wildfire. [Did the CS golden boy just get cheated on? LMAO] [That dude is 100% a hired sub. Epic fail.] [He thought on his feet, gotta give him that. Too bad he picked a girl whose boyfriend was literally in the same class. Ouch.] My vision swam. I pulled up the chat with the substitute. [YOU NEVER MENTIONED YOU WERE A GUY!] This was a major-specific course. The professor knew most of the students by sight, even if not by name. The plan had been simple: a girl, wearing a mask, sitting in the back. The professor would never have noticed. I saw the gender on his profile was set to ‘female’ and didn’t think twice. Big mistake. He replied instantly. [I’m so sorry! T_T It was my first time doing this, I didn’t know the protocol. (´• ω •`)] [I just panicked! I had no idea your boyfriend was there! ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ] [I explained everything to him afterwards, no misunderstanding! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ] [Seriously, I feel awful. Let me buy you dinner to make up for it? (ಥ﹏ಥ)] I closed the chat with a sigh. This was bad. Jonathan was going to be furious about me skipping class again. We’d had a massive fight about this a month ago and hadn’t spoken since. 3 Jonathan and I grew up next door to each other. He was always ruthlessly self-disciplined, while I was a professional daydreamer. While other kids were playing outside, he’d be forcing me to do my homework, his face set in a serious frown. “This is wrong. Write it out ten times.” It was torture. In high school, he arranged for us to be desk partners, pushing me every single day. “You have to work harder, Ava. We’re going to Blackwood University together.” When he said it, a faint blush would creep up his usually cool, composed features. He always emphasized the “we together.” For those two words, I studied until my eyes burned. And we both got into Blackwood’s top-ranked Computer Science program. My parents cried with joy, declaring that Jonathan was a gift from the heavens. If it weren’t for him, they said, I would’ve gone astray and ruined my future. On the day the acceptance letters arrived, everyone was beaming. But under the blazing July sun, I felt like I was encased in ice, trembling uncontrollably. Because in the list of majors I had painstakingly submitted myself, Computer Science wasn’t even an option. And my grades were far too high to have been placed there by chance. Someone had changed my application. 4 From day one of university, I knew I hated coding. The rigid rules, the suffocating logic—it was all just… gray. I started skipping classes, secretly teaching myself to paint in the university’s art studio. I didn’t dare let Jonathan know. But you can’t hide from the truth forever. When he found out I was skipping his beloved CS lectures for art, his brow furrowed into a familiar, disapproving line. “That’s a waste of time,” he said, his tone as severe as my parents’ had been years ago. The huge fight last month, the one that led to our current cold war, was because I’d submitted an application to transfer my major to Fine Arts. Jonathan was furious. He said I was being reckless, irresponsible with my future. In that moment, a profound exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t have the energy to try and make him understand anymore. 5 I opened my chat with Jonathan. Our last messages were from a month ago. I hesitated, then typed. [Jules, guess what today is!] No reply. I sent another. [If you don’t guess right, you owe me a kiss.] An hour later. [Okay, fine, I know you’re just pretending not to know so you can get that kiss.] [It’s World Oceans Day! We should get dinner to celebrate!] [Where are you? I’ll come find you~] Frustration started to bubble up inside me. I was practically waving a white flag, and he was still ignoring me. I ate my dinner in the campus dining hall with one hand, my other thumb endlessly scrolling up our chat history, waiting for his name to pop up. The Wi-Fi here was spotty, and I was terrified I’d miss his reply. I stretched a single meal out for over an hour. Silence. 6 I finally caved and texted Jonathan’s roommate, who told me he was at the lab. When I got there, he was hunched over a keyboard, debugging code, his focus absolute. I waved, my voice overly bright. “Jules!” His head snapped up, his eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second before he quickly looked away, feigning indifference. “What are you doing here?” I wrapped my arms around his, planting a quick peck on his lips. “Jules, don’t be mad anymore! I was wrong, okay?” A faint pink dusted his ears. The icy composure melted away, replaced by the soft warmth of a winter sunrise. “Hmph,” he grunted, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. “Wrong about what?” “…Let’s go get dinner. You have dark circles under your eyes. You pulled another all-nighter coding, didn’t you? You probably forgot to eat.” I tried to change the subject. Honestly, I didn’t think I was wrong at all. His expression went blank again. “Excuse me,” a sharp voice cut in. I turned to see Millie, a girl Jonathan often teamed up with for competitions. She gave me an apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We can’t really leave for dinner just yet. We’ve got a major competition deadline coming up, and Jonathan and I need to grind this out. Sorry, but he can’t go with you.” She added, “I ordered takeout, it’ll be here soon. You want to stay and eat with us?” There was a subtle arrogance in her tone that rubbed me the wrong way, but Jonathan had told me how important this competition was. “It’s okay, I don’t want to bother you guys.” I turned back to Jonathan. “Jules, I’ll catch you when you’re not so busy, then.” He gave a noncommittal “Mm.” Millie smiled brightly. “Alright, see you around!” The last thing I saw before the lab door clicked shut was Jonathan and Millie leaning in close together, their heads nearly touching as they debated a line of code. A sour knot formed in my stomach. 7 Jonathan seemed to be in a perpetual state of “busy.” Another month passed after that day at the lab. He never messaged me. His roommate said he was practically living in the lab now. Ever since we started university, it had been like this. Always too busy to reply, and certainly too busy to reach out first. In that month, I lost myself in my painting and didn’t contact him either. The result? We hadn’t exchanged a single word. It was hard to believe we were even in the same program. It felt like we lived in different worlds. He was busy chasing GPA points, research grants, and competition trophies. I was busy skipping class to paint. He was a campus legend, drowning in awards. I was a campus ghost, drowning in failed assignments. When did we drift so far apart? 8 I finally broke the silence and called him. While the phone was ringing, a notification popped up in my dorm’s group chat. My roommate had shared a link to an article. It was about Jonathan and Millie winning first place in their competition. The photo showed the two of them on stage, accepting the award. They looked radiant, perfectly matched. My roommate tagged me: [@Ava your boyfriend is amazing!] Before I could reply, another notification appeared. A recommended article from a news app. [Power Couple of CS Department Fast-Tracked for Grad School…] I slammed the “dislike, show less of this” button, but a wave of sadness washed over me anyway. Suddenly, the call connected. Jonathan’s tired voice came through the line. “What’s up?” My mind was still stuck on that headline. A childish sense of grievance welled up. “Jules, why haven’t you talked to me? I just saw—” “Busy,” he cut me off. “…Well, do you have time to grab dinner with me?” “Where.” “Just the dining hall. It won’t take long. Five o’clock?” “Fine.” “See you there?” “Yeah.” He hung up. 9 I waited at the entrance of the dining hall for an hour and twenty-one minutes. Jonathan finally appeared, a silhouette against the deepening twilight. “Sorry,” he said. “Something came up.” I opened my mouth to ask, Couldn’t you have sent a text? But I swallowed the words. I didn’t want to ruin the first meal we’d shared in ages. I went to get my favorite spicy noodle bowl while he got his usual rice platter from the no-line counter. He always ate that because it was fast. For a prodigy like him, even eating was a waste of time. By the time I brought my steaming bowl to the table, he was already halfway done. He glanced at my food, his brow tightening for a second, but he said nothing. The broth was scalding. I meticulously picked out the cilantro and green onions. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jonathan lift his wrist and check his watch. First time, I counted silently. It was a habit of his, one he’d had since high school—timing how long a meal was taking. When he finished his plate, he checked his watch again. I pretended not to notice his growing impatience. “Jules, guess what?” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “There’s a small art exhibition on campus, and even though I’m not an art major, one of my paintings was selected! I was so—” He glanced at his watch a third time. It was like every second he spent with me was an agonizing waste of his precious, brilliant time.

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One day, a long-term client of mine hit me up. [15k to meet my online boyfriend for me? You can keep everything he buys you.] I was about to type out a polite “no thanks” when she sent the next message. It was a picture of my nemesis. My face went blank. [Are you telling me you’ve been using my photos and videos to date him?] 1 [You’ve been scammed, girl,] I typed back, trying to be gentle. [Impossible,] she shot back instantly. [He’s sent me so much money. He has to be the real Julian Henderson, the heir to the Henderson fortune.] I sighed. I dragged the photo she sent of Julian into a Google search. It was a stock image, used and abused by dozens of gossip blogs. I took a screenshot and sent it to her. She was unmoved. [We’ve worked together for ages, would I lie to you? My online boyfriend is the Julian Henderson.] I let out a slow, frustrated breath. From what I knew of the insufferable Julian Henderson, the swarm of women he dealt with in real life was more than enough to handle. The idea of him bothering with an online romance was laughable. Especially one where he had to look at my face. He wouldn’t fall in love behind a screen; he’d probably just throw up. [He saw my—well, my—photos and didn’t say anything?] I asked. [He said they were beautiful. I mean, you are,] she said, then quickly added, [I even used your voice notes! He sends me ten grand every time I use one!] Oh, dear god. If Julian actually heard my cutesy, high-pitched voice from those recordings, he’d lose his appetite for a week. That settled it. There was absolutely no way the guy she was talking to was Julian Henderson. With that comforting thought, I scrolled through the photos and videos I’d sold her. The pictures were just standard selfies, nothing too crazy. The videos, however… Me, in a series of tight mini-dresses, complete with a cutesy kitten-ear filter. Whatever. It wasn’t the real Julian. No harm done. My client’s messages turned desperate. [Please, babe, just help me out. It’s a totally safe, public meetup! I told him I’m not ready for anything physical. We’re meeting at the downtown galleria, it’s always packed.] When I didn’t reply, she sent another barrage of texts. [If you’re nervous, just stay for one minute and leave! Please? If he thinks I’m a catfish, how am I supposed to keep getting money from him?] A few seconds later, a notification popped up. A direct deposit of $50,000 had just landed in my bank account. The fingers I’d been using to type my refusal froze mid-air. Then again, what kind of person uses Julian Henderson’s photos for a dating profile and then has the guts to meet in person? Wasn’t he afraid of getting called out for false advertising? This client could hire me to be her stand-in, but nobody could order the real Julian Henderson around. You know what? I was curious. I wanted to see what kind of train wreck this guy was. I deleted my half-written rejection. [Fine.] This client was playing with serious cash. Honestly, the fake Julian sounded more generous than the real one. Fearing I’d change my mind, she immediately sent a flurry of screenshots of their chat history. It was a cringe-fest of “Hubby, kisses!” and “I only love you, hubby!” peppered with gifs of spinning cats and blushing kittens. The fake Julian’s replies were always the same. [You’re so beautiful, baby.] Transaction Notification. [You’re so cute, baby.] Transaction Notification. Transaction Notification. Transaction Notification. Holy moneybags. She quickly sent me the location. [This mall.] I glanced at the address. Well, what do you know. The Crown Prince actually did frequent this place; it was near one of his family’s villas. Maybe… I pulled up Julian’s contact and hit dial. Wouldn’t it be perfect to have the imposter see the real Julian Henderson show up right in front of him? Scare him half to death. Ah. Right. I forgot. He blocked me. I silently closed my phone. 2 After a thousand last-minute instructions from my client, I got dressed to the nines and arrived at the galleria half an hour early to scope the place out. I never expected to actually run into Julian Henderson himself. He was lounging near the central fountain, one hand casually tucked in his pocket. A girl was chattering away at his side, and while he wasn’t really listening, he wore a lazy, detached smile. The fact that he wasn’t showing any sign of annoyance was a miracle in itself. I just stood there, stunned. Then his eyes found me, and the smile vanished from his face. He muttered something under his breath. “Just my luck.” I heard him loud and clear but kept my expression neutral. The girl beside him instinctively tightened her grip on his arm, glaring at me. “And who are you?” When I didn’t answer, she turned to Julian with a wounded look. Julian sneered. “A charity case.” He wasn’t wrong. If I wasn’t broke, I wouldn’t be here to meet a fake Julian Henderson. I let out a small, dry laugh, my voice light. “To be hated by the great Julian Henderson… I must be doing something right.” His face instantly darkened. He crossed his arms, his words dripping with contempt. “Thea, what in this mall can you actually afford?” “As long as you can afford it, that’s all that matters,” I replied with a breezy smile, gesturing to a luxury boutique nearby. “Didn’t you buy me a purse from that very store once?” The girl’s eyes widened. “What’s your relationship?” What was our relationship? We were first loves. And dating this spoiled prince was the single biggest mistake of my life. Julian didn’t say anything, and I wasn’t about to embarrass myself further. I adjusted my bag and turned to leave. “Thea.” His voice was soft, but it carried the same arrogant, condescending tone it always had. “Which poor sucker did you trick into paying for your things this time?” I turned back. “Don’t worry, Julian. I haven’t managed to trick anyone more generous than you yet.” Of course, the guy my client was tricking didn’t count. Julian had been coddled his entire life; he never bothered to hide his emotions. So I knew, right then, that he was in a very bad mood. Worried he’d ruin my upcoming meetup, I decided to placate him. “You were right before,” I said softly. “Someone like me will never be happy. But as long as you’re happy, that’s what counts.” Honestly, I think the “nemesis” thing was one-sided. I never go out of my way to make enemies, especially not with a wealthy ex who used to be an open wallet. But the spoiled boy who was once so hard to please was even less receptive now. He curled his lip, his voice laced with venom. “Don’t you go anywhere. I want to see what kind of trash you’ve managed to catch this time.” I froze. I had no idea what kind of persona my client had created with this guy. What if it was some pure, innocent flower? My cover would be blown in seconds. Julian’s personality was tailor-made for exposing lies; he’d tear me apart with a few pointed questions. I swallowed my pride. “He’s not as handsome as you, and he’s not as rich. Julian, why do you have to humiliate me like this?” The girl beside him nodded. “Yeah, Julian, let’s just go.” Julian didn’t even glance at her. He pulled a black card from his pocket. She took it, her entire demeanor shifting as she turned and walked away briskly. “Okay, I’m going shopping then. Text me if you need anything, Julian!” “She’s cute,” I commented with a faint smile. Julian ignored me but made no move to leave. He just stood there, staring down at me. That was him, though. Impulsive and willful. I remembered a time he had a fever. I was frantic with worry, but he just lazily held my hand and whispered, “Want to see what 104 degrees feels like?” My eyes went wide, and my face turned beet red. Not from embarrassment, but from sheer rage. “Are you sick in the head?” He just smirked, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. In the end, we did try. And he ended up in the emergency room. Such childish memories. I lowered my gaze. Julian’s patience was wearing thin. He looked at me, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “You didn’t just make someone up, did you?” I stayed silent. His patience finally snapped. He answered a call from a friend. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit.” Then he shot me one last look, his eyes swimming with mockery. “Instead of carrying that cheap canvas tote, you should’ve just swallowed your pride and kept the bags I gave you.” With that, he turned and strode away, his long legs carrying him further and further from me. I watched his tall figure recede. Even the way he walked was infuriatingly nonchalant. After Julian and I broke up, I packed up every single luxury item he’d ever given me and shipped them back to his family’s estate. His only reply was a text with four words: [I don’t want trash.] Then he blocked me. As for the gifts, a friend told me he threw them all in the dumpster outside his villa. My phone buzzed incessantly. N: [Hey, are you there yet?] [Maybe we should meet in the coffee shop? I’ll just tell him I’m waiting for him there?] [Babe, please answer me!] I took a deep breath, composing myself. [Okay, heading to the coffee shop now.] I walked in and scanned the room. I sent a text to my client: [Babe, bad news. Your Julian Henderson isn’t here. Even worse news, there’s only one handsome guy in the entire place.] [Impossible! He said he’s already there!] she replied frantically. I sighed. Just then, the one handsome guy stood up and started walking toward me. His eyes were almond-shaped, tilting up slightly at the corners, and a tiny beauty mark sat just beneath his left eye. He smiled, a gentle, warm expression that somehow radiated the charm of a cunning fox. I instinctively took a step back. He spoke, his voice a low, magnetic hum. “Thea.” My blood ran cold. I looked down at my phone and furiously typed: [Your name isn’t ‘N,’ is it? You didn’t use my real name, did you?] She replied instantly: [Uh, yeah. I was too scared to use my real name, and we were negotiating prices for the photos, so I just sent him yours. Sorry!] [Wow.] I shut off my phone, took another deep breath, and looked up at the handsome stranger. “Hi there.” Up close, he was even more striking. His features were exquisite without being feminine. A high-bridged nose, thin lips curved into a slight smile, and a single, sparkling stud in his left ear. He was far better looking than I had imagined. Stunning, even. Wait a minute. Why would this guy need to use Julian’s photos? I gave a weak smile. “You look a little different from the photos you sent me.” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall ever sending you any of my photos.” My face twitched. This guy never even sent a picture, so how on earth did my client become so convinced he was Julian Henderson?! “Oh, my mistake,” I said through a clenched jaw, forcing another smile. “Would you mind if I used the restroom really quickly?” “Of course,” he said, his smile never wavering. The second I was inside the restroom, I dialed “N.” The moment the call connected, I exploded. “I TOLD YOU, YOUR ONLINE BOYFRIEND IS NOT JULIAN HENDERSON! NOT JULIAN HENDERSON! But you wouldn’t listen. I figured he was just a catfish, but it turns out HE NEVER EVEN SENT YOU A PHOTO! How in the hell did you decide he was Julian?!” There was a long silence on the other end. Finally, a stunned “Holy shit” echoed back. It was a man’s voice. I froze. “He’s not Julian Henderson? How is that possible? Then who is he?” a torrent of panicked questions came pouring out. “You’re asking me?!” I practically screamed back. “Where did you even find this guy? This is so unprofessional!” I thought I was dealing with some girl running a romance scam. Who knew it was a guy? No wonder he had to buy my voice notes. “What does he look like? Describe him, quickly!” The guy on the phone sounded even more panicked than I was. “He’s actually really handsome, so you don’t have to worry about that,” I said. Another silence. After a long pause, his voice came back, devoid of all life. “He doesn’t have a beauty mark under his eye, does he?” “He does.” “AHHHHHHHHH! I’M SO DEAD!” Right, now he’s dead. Where was this fear when he was scamming money off the guy? If he had been scamming the real Julian, he really would be dead. Julian would have had him skinned alive. A moment later, he asked mournfully, “So what do we do?” “I’m curious,” I said. “This guy seems a lot nicer than Julian. What made you think Julian was such a great catch anyway?” “No, you don’t understand. This guy—my brother—is way scarier than Julian. If Julian wanted to kill me, my grandma might step in. If my brother wants to kill me, no one will lift a finger to help!” He started sobbing. My eyes widened. “What did you just say?” He was clearly in despair. “No wonder Julian said I was an idiot. Am I really that stupid?” “So what now?” I asked. “Should I just make a run for it?” “NO!” he yelped. “If you run, he’ll investigate. He’ll one hundred percent trace it back to me!” I was speechless. “You know what? Just take over my account,” he said decisively. “Just pretend it’s been you two talking this whole time. My brother’s not bad-looking, and he’s loaded—” My jaw dropped. Before I could answer, he started muttering to himself. “I never knew he’d be so generous in a relationship. Shit, why isn’t he like this with my allowance?” “Forget it,” I said flatly. Ever since breaking up with Julian, I’d learned one thing: what doesn’t belong to you will never be yours. Especially not these wealthy young masters. Don’t waste your time fantasizing. Besides, if I actually got involved with this guy and Julian found out, who knows how he’d freak out. No, wait. He’d probably just sneer at the guy: “Your taste is terrible, getting involved with a girl like Thea.” I sighed. The guy on the phone wasn’t happy. “Hey, doesn’t your service include after-sales support?” Wow. They really were related. That twisted logic was just like Julian’s. “I’m hanging up,” I said. “Fifty grand! I’ll add another fifty!” he pleaded. “That’s all my New Year’s money! My brother can’t find out!” “One hundred.” “You’re a loan shark! You know you can get plenty from my brother, and you’re still trying to bleed me dry?” “Then forget it,” I said. “DEAL!” he cried, defeated. “What’s your brother’s name?” I asked. “Sebastian Henderson.” My head shot up. “You mean Julian’s cousin? The one who’s always been abroad?” “Yeah.” 3 I smoothed down my dress in the restroom mirror, reapplied my lipstick, and took a final, deep breath before walking back out. Sebastian was waiting for me. To be honest, Sebastian didn’t seem as prim and proper as his name suggested. He had an air of effortless confidence, like someone who existed outside the rules. That constant, gentle smile made him look like a fox. Why would someone with his kind of money and power bother with online dating? I took the initiative and linked my arm through his. He stiffened for a fraction of a second, then his smile widened. “Anything you want to buy? Or should we eat first?” he asked. “Either is fine,” I said. He then led me from one boutique to another. Unlike Julian, he would patiently comment on how each bag or dress looked on me before buying everything. Julian would just find a chair, play on his phone, and pay when I was done. It was strange. It felt like a perfect boyfriend had just fallen from the sky. But I knew Sebastian wasn’t as easygoing as he appeared. The more perfect they seem, the more dangerous they are. For now, though… He even had two bodyguards following us, their arms laden with shopping bags. “Thea, I made a reservation at that restaurant you said you wanted to try,” Sebastian said, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Let’s go!” I agreed cheerfully. “Do you remember which one it was?” he asked, his gaze dropping to me, deceptively casual. He looked like a cat watching a mouse in its paws. Which one. I had no idea. And I couldn’t exactly pull out my phone and ask my male-client-who-is-now-my-fake-boyfriend’s-brother. The silence stretched. My heart hammered against my ribs. I bit my lip, a sudden chill creeping over my skin. I finally understood what the kid meant when he said Sebastian was scarier than Julian. Julian wore all his emotions on his sleeve. If you pissed him off, you knew it immediately. But Sebastian… I couldn’t read him at all. I had no idea what he meant by asking that question. I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, he chuckled, his voice a warm, deep timber. “It’s okay. You’re busy, it’s normal to be forgetful. You’ll know it when we get there.” I nodded frantically. Sebastian was actually a nice guy! If Julian had known I’d forgotten something about him, he would have spent the next five hours delivering a non-stop monologue of creative insults. 4 When we arrived at the restaurant, the maître d’ bowed respectfully. “Mr. Henderson.” He led us to a private room in the back, an elegant space complete with its own koi pond. I sat across from Sebastian. He had the cuffs of his shirt loosely rolled up, revealing well-defined wrists. The pale skin made the blue veins stand out even more. “You can order,” I said, not even looking at the menu. “I’m not a picky eater.” Sebastian smiled. “Alright.” I took the opportunity to text the kid, Noah. [You told Sebastian you wanted to eat at a French place? I almost got caught. Are there any other details I need to know? Tell me now.] Suddenly, the door to our room was pushed open. A familiar voice rang out. “Sebastian? You’re back in the country?” I froze. Julian clicked his tongue, his voice bored. “I thought this room was empty, so I didn’t bother making a reservation. The others are full. Mind if we share?” I ducked my head, trying to shrink into nothing. But I forgot what Julian once told me: he could recognize me even if I was reduced to ashes, just so he could scatter me to the wind himself. “Thea?” The lazy drawl in his voice instantly turned to ice. I didn’t dare look up. Worse, my phone lit up with a reply. [Huh? No way. I never told my brother where I wanted to eat. I hate French food. I like rotisserie chicken.] My eyes widened in horror. “Look at me, Thea,” Julian growled, his voice a low threat. Sebastian’s fingers tapped lightly on the table. “Is that any way to speak to your sister-in-law?” “My what?” Julian’s voice shot up an octave. Only then did I slowly raise my head, offering a weak smile. “What a coincidence.” Then, taking Sebastian’s cue, I added, “Little brother.” “Who the hell is your little brother?!” Julian exploded. He pointed a shaking finger at me, then turned to Sebastian. “You don’t know she dated me?” Sebastian sipped his coffee, completely unbothered. “I didn’t. Are you two still together?” “No, no! We broke up a long time ago,” I interjected quickly. “Shut up,” Julian snapped, his voice tight with suppressed rage. Each word was ground out from between his teeth. His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles white. “Sebastian, didn’t you run a background check on me when I was dating her? Don’t you dare lie to my face and say you don’t know who she is.” Sebastian crossed his legs, his posture relaxed. In the suffocating tension, he actually managed a lazy smile. “I did. So what?” Julian’s eyes were red with fury. I sighed and decided to intervene. “Don’t be mad. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be. Why don’t you have some water and calm down?” I started to get up to pour him a glass. “Thea.” Sebastian’s voice was light, but his gaze was sharp. My heart seized. I immediately sat back down, perfectly still. Julian looked at me in disbelief. “You argue with me about everything, but you listen to him like that? Did he put a spell on you?” I didn’t answer. To be honest, Sebastian was just more intimidating. A long silence passed. Finally, Julian’s voice was hoarse. “When did you two get together?” I couldn’t answer that. Sebastian answered for me, his tone even. “End of last year.” “When, exactly?” Julian pressed, relentless. “The day after Christmas.” My smile froze on my face. A cold, mocking sneer spread across Julian’s lips. “Wow, Thea. You really are something else.” Julian and I had broken up on Christmas Day. But I wasn’t the one who started talking to Sebastian on the 26th! I kept my mouth shut, swallowing the bitter truth, and let him think I was the kind of girl who moved on in a day. Seeing my silence, Julian slammed the door on his way out.

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1 For three years, I was the gilded canary in President of Blackwood Holdings, Finn Keery’s cage. We were inseparable, our passion a scorching, all-consuming fire. He never used protection, always holding me close afterward, whispering, “If it happens, we’ll have it. I’ll marry you, Thea.” So when I actually got pregnant, I threw myself off his yacht right in front of him. I left him with a bloated, decaying corpse to remember me by. Months later, in a city far from his empire, he was hunting for another runaway heiress. Instead, he found me, a baby in my arms, chatting with his target. “Running away with the baby is the right move,” I told her, an expert giving advice. “Don’t listen to all the promises he makes. You go home with him? You’ll regret it.” “A man’s words are just pretty lies. They’re fun to play with for a while, but you can’t ever really trust them.” … “As soon as you’re pregnant, I’ll marry you.” Finn’s hot breath tickled my ear as he spoke, his voice a low, husky promise. “Once you’re part of the Keery family, you’ll never have to worry about your parents or that fake sister of yours again.” I forced a smile, my body going rigid. Pregnancy. My biased parents. The impostor sister. Did he really have to bring all that up right now? The mood was instantly shattered. “Pregnancy is impossible,” I said, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “It hasn’t happened in three years. I’m probably infertile.” He could never know the truth. That I’d been secretly taking birth control this whole time. “You’re young and healthy. It just means I haven’t been trying hard enough.” He flipped me onto my back, his touch reigniting the fire in my veins. I had to admit, Finn was an artist in the bedroom. Our three years together had been a whirlwind of pleasure, a testament to his skill. He was the undisputed king of our city’s elite, powerful and obscenely generous. He took care of me, lavishing me with attention and gifts. Besides his obsession with getting me pregnant, he was flawless. “I can’t be pregnant!” I glared at the old herbalist. “I’ve been taking the contraceptive tea you prescribed every single day.” Ever since that night with Finn, I’d been feeling nauseous, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. I’d snuck out to this small, discreet clinic, only to be told: Congratulations, you’re having a baby. Congratulations? What was there to celebrate? I could barely take care of myself. A baby was not part of the plan. Three years ago, on the eve of my college entrance exams, I was plucked from a hyper-competitive, high-pressure province and dropped into the lap of luxury in the capital. I went from being a penniless orphan from a remote village to the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family. Everyone said I’d hit the jackpot, a Cinderella story come to life. But only I knew the truth. It was a nightmare. My biological parents already had a daughter, one they had raised and adored. I was an intruder, an unwelcome disruption. To avoid upsetting their precious ‘sister,’ they didn’t even bother giving me a new name, just tacked their surname onto my old one. I went from Thea to Thea Tang. When the exam results came out, I scored three hundred points higher than her. But instead of congratulations, I was met with a storm of accusations. “You know your sister struggles with her studies! Did you score that high just to push her over the edge? Do you want her to kill herself?” My mother slapped me across the face. My father, in a fit of rage, cut off all my financial support. To appease their other daughter, they forbade me from attending university. I tried to work and save for tuition myself, but they sabotaged every job I found. Just when I’d hit rock bottom, I met Finn Keery. I became his canary; he paid for my education and my life. The plan was to save up enough money and disappear. But now, there was a baby. What could I give a child? An illegitimate status, a mother who was a kept woman, a toxic and suffocating family? A chill ran down my spine. “No,” I shook my head, “I can’t.” “Your constitution is unique,” the old herbalist said, her gaze sharp. “If you get rid of this one, you may never be able to have another.” “Don’t do something you’ll regret.” My mind was a chaotic mess all the way back to the penthouse. I tried to prepare myself to talk to Finn. He was the father, after all. He deserved to know. But as I approached his study, I heard voices. “Vivian Song from the Song Corporation seems like a good match.” Someone agreed. “Miss Song is from a good family, she’s educated, beautiful. A perfect match.” Finn chuckled, his voice lazy and detached. “A wife for a strategic alliance needs to be sensible, obedient, and presentable. She needs to be able to tolerate… outside arrangements.” My body went rigid. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’re right, Finn. A woman like that won’t cause any embarrassing scenes later.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. For three years, he’d told me, again and again: “If you get pregnant, we’ll have it. I’ll marry you.” It was all a lie. A suitable family, a strategic marriage—that had been his goal all along. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Why was I so upset? I’d known from the day I agreed to this arrangement that it wouldn’t last forever. Marriages in his world were business transactions. I was never going to be his wife. But maybe, after three years, I had actually fallen for him. I stumbled back to our bedroom, the traces of our life together suffocating me. “Thea, why do you look so pale?” Finn walked in, his face etched with concern. He reached out to touch my cheek. “Are you not feeling well?” I looked up, seeing the genuine affection in his eyes, and a wave of nausea washed over me. “I’m fine. Just ate something that disagreed with me.” I subtly pulled away from his touch, stepping out of his embrace. The baby. He could never know about the baby. I had to leave. The next day, I started taking inventory. Jewelry and bags to be sold for cash. Gold bars packed separately. Finn had been a generous keeper. He’d drape me in extravagant jewels as if they were trinkets, his eyes full of adoration. Now, looking at these cold, inanimate objects, all I felt was a crushing disappointment. Had he changed, or was it all just an act from the beginning? Finn saw the piles of luxury goods on the floor and smiled. “Can’t find anything you like?” he teased, stroking my hair. “I’ll take you shopping for the new collections.” I kept my eyes down. “I was just admiring them. They’re proof that you love me, after all…” A knock on the door interrupted me. “Mr. Song is here.” Finn gave me a quick, soft kiss. “Thea, I have something important to take care of. Go out, do some shopping. Use my card.” I watched him hurry away, a bitter feeling churning in my stomach. He was playing both sides, wasn’t he? Carefully negotiating his marriage with his future in-laws while placating me with money. Just as I was about to leave, I changed my mind. I tiptoed to the study door. “A high-society marriage is about mutual benefit and maintaining a respectable image. We can’t let trivial matters like personal feelings create an ugly situation,” Finn’s voice was firm and steady. “I’m not sure about the one on the outside… is she sensible?” Mr. Song sounded hesitant. “What if there’s a child…?” “There won’t be a child,” Finn said without a moment’s hesitation. “And if there were, I wouldn’t acknowledge it. The Keery name is respected. We only have legitimate heirs. We can’t afford a scandal.” He paused, then added, “No matter how much I spoil her, she’s just a plaything. The stability of the alliance is what matters.” I wouldn’t acknowledge it. A plaything. The words were like shards of glass in my gut, tearing me apart. A shiver wracked my body. I had become his canary to escape my parents and get an education, to give myself a chance at a future. I knew it wasn’t a respectable path. But I had always told myself: he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and I don’t have a boyfriend. We were just dating, like any other couple. But to him, I was just a toy. And our child… he wouldn’t even acknowledge our child. I went back to the bedroom, replaying his words in my head like a form of self-torture. Each time, the pain and humiliation grew, and the lingering affection I had for him withered away. The agony was so intense, my body started to shake. “Thea, why are you crying?” Finn rushed in, his face a mask of concern as he wiped away my tears. “What’s wrong?” I dug my nails into my palms until they drew blood, forcing myself to calm down. “It’s nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “I just feel guilty. You’re so good to me, and the one thing you want is a child, and I can’t even give you that.” My voice was thick with fake emotion. “Will you be disappointed in me? Will you stop loving me?” His mood instantly brightened. He pinched my nose playfully. “So afraid I’ll leave you? Then you’ll just have to work harder to please me, so I can’t bear to let you go.” Please him. He had no respect for me at all. I really was just a toy. “What if I stop loving you first?” I asked. “What if I want to leave?” He laughed, a low, dismissive sound. “Leave? Where would you go? You have no money of your own, and your identity is linked to my systems. You think you can escape me?” He was right. He was all-powerful. I couldn’t even buy birth control from a pharmacy; I had to sneak to a back-alley herbalist just to avoid his network of spies. He leaned down, his eyes darkening. “Why are you asking these questions all of a sudden?” “I was just joking,” I cooed, snuggling into his chest. “I’ve been reading too many novels. I was just curious. I didn’t think you’d get so angry.” I looked up at him, my eyes wide and innocent. “If I actually got pregnant and ran away with your child, you’d probably go insane, wouldn’t you?” The arm around my waist tightened like a vise. His face was a thundercloud. “Some things are better left to the imagination.” His voice was dangerously low. “Thea, you can’t handle the consequences of my anger.” I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs, and forced a bright smile. It was clear. A simple escape was impossible. I had to find a way to die. My plan to run away was ruined. I looked at the piles of designer jewelry and bags, a wave of sadness washing over me. Three years of hard work, my entire canary empire… I couldn’t take any of it with me. I was an orphan, rejected by my own parents, forced to sell my body to survive, and the man I’d loved for three years was a monster. Now, my only way out was to fake my own death. And the worst part? I’d have to leave all my treasure behind. The thought filled me with a bitter, helpless despair. Just then, a light laugh echoed from the doorway. “She really is beautiful.” A woman stood there, looking me up and down. Her eyes lingered on the love bites on my neck. “No wonder he can’t let you go. You must be very good at what you do.” It only took me a second to realize who she was. Finn’s fiancée, Vivian Song. She and her friend sneered, their eyes raking over me like I was something dirty. In that moment, I felt a shame so profound I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I finally understood: no matter how I tried to frame it, in their world, I was nothing more than a cheap whore being put in her place by the wife. “Don’t be scared,” Vivian said, her smile condescending. “I’m not here to break you up. As long as you’re obedient and don’t cause any trouble, you two can continue for as long as you like.” She stood there, waiting for my grateful thanks. A wave of humiliation rose in my throat, choking me. “I…” Seeing my defiant silence, her friend exploded. “Vivian is being generous, you ungrateful bitch! Who do you think you are? You’re just a slut who sells her body! You need to be taught a lesson!” “Nana!” Vivian pretended to scold her. “Nana has a temper,” she said, turning back to me, “but she’s right. A girl in your position can’t afford to have pride. If you’re going to be a mistress, you can’t think too highly of yourself.” She went on, lecturing me on the rules of being a kept woman. The more she spoke, the sicker I felt. I doubled over, dry-heaving. Long after they left, I was still shaking. If I didn’t leave Finn, this was just the beginning. If he found out I was pregnant, he would either force me to have an abortion or lock me away, forcing me to live under Vivian’s thumb, enduring her taunts while our child grew up in shame. Despair washed over me, a suffocating tide. The door opened, and Finn stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. “Miss me?” he slurred, wrapping his arms around me from behind. The smell of liquor made my stomach turn. I shoved him away. “Ugh!” He stared at me, then knelt, his hand gripping my chin. “Something’s been off with you lately. You’re always sick, moody, and now you’re throwing up.” He leaned closer, his boozy breath hot on my face. A wicked grin spread across his lips. “Thea, you’re not pregnant, are you?” My heart stopped. “Of course not,” I said, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. “If something that wonderful happened, you’d be the first to know. I just have an upset stomach.” He studied me for a long time, his eyes dark and unreadable. I finally broke the tension by snuggling into his arms. He laughed. “Why so clingy tonight?” “It would be nice if you were always this obedient,” he murmured, a strange note in his voice. “Be a good girl, and I’ll take you on a trip soon. My private island in France, skiing in Switzerland, the Northern Lights…” He fastened a glittering necklace around my neck. “There’s a jewelry auction in Italy. I’ll buy you a few more pieces. How does that sound?” I was wrapped in his warmth, but my heart was encased in ice. “That sounds wonderful,” I said, tilting my head up to kiss him. Wonderful, my ass. “I love jewelry. I want so much I can’t even wear it all.” But what was the point of having treasures you could never show off, that came at the cost of your dignity? I loved money, but only if I could spend it freely, with my head held high. A man’s words were just lies. He promised me the world, but once his wife moved in, I’d be hidden away, a dirty secret. I pushed the thoughts down and showered him with kisses. “I heard they have a new cruise on the river. I want to go.” Pleased with my sudden affection, he agreed instantly. “I’ll charter the whole yacht. We’ll spend a few days on the water.” This was it. My plan. If I was going to fake my death, it had to be convincing. Without a body, Finn would never stop looking. But if I left a body… where was I supposed to find a corpse? The river was perfect. The currents were strong. A body could easily be lost, torn apart. I knew how to survive in the water; I’d grown up by a river. My only worry was the baby. “But my child,” I whispered to my belly, “I have to save myself before I can be a mother to you. Please don’t blame me.” The day of the cruise, the weather was perfect. “A few friends are coming,” Finn said. “Vivian Song will be here. You should spend some time with her.” “Why should I?” I retorted. She was his fiancée, but I was still a person, not her entertainment. “I just thought, since you two will be seeing a lot of each other in the future, you should get to know each other…” I laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “I’m not worthy of her acquaintance.” This was his way of telling me to get used to my place. I saw Vivian approaching. They stood together, a picture-perfect couple. “She’s going to be a proper wife. What am I? Find someone else to entertain her.” I turned to walk away, but Finn grabbed my wrist. “What’s gotten into you? What are you talking about?” A wave of disgust washed over me. I ripped my arm away. “Leave me alone!” Finn’s face darkened. “Thea, it seems I’ve spoiled you too much. You’ve become ill-mannered and unpresentable.” The last bit of affection I had for him vanished. He saw my defiant silence and his words grew sharper. “Don’t forget your place! Don’t forget who’s keeping you alive!” My world tilted. My pride shattered. He was right. I was nothing. A charity case, a whore. I deserved their contempt. He thought I was unpresentable? Fine. I was about to die anyway. I took a deep breath. “I’ve always been ill-mannered. I’m not fit to be in Miss Song’s company.” Tears streamed down my face. He froze. It was the first time in three years I had cried in front of him. I walked to the edge of the deck. He didn’t follow. He was probably inside with Vivian. I climbed over the railing. The water churned below. “Thea!” Finn’s voice, raw with panic. “Don’t move! Just wait for me!” I turned and gave him one last, liberating smile. His expression shifted from anger to pure terror. “NO!” He sprinted toward me as I let go, falling into the dark water below. Splash!

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I’ve walked this earth for three hundred years, a monster hiding in plain sight. I feast on the wicked to preserve my timeless youth, but I have a code: I only consume the truly evil. My world tilted the day he moved in. A detective. He knocked on my door, holding a list of missing persons, and pointed to a face. “Ever seen this man?” I smiled. “Never.” He had no idea that every single person on that list was already inside me. 1. The Hound at the Door I was in the middle of processing the day’s… material… when the doorbell rang. The man had been a domestic abuser. A polished executive by day, a savage beast to his wife by night. She had cried out for help—to community centers, to friends—only to be met with the same cold refrains: “Don’t air your dirty laundry in public,” and “He’s just under a lot of stress.” No one would help her. So I did. I was meticulous, just as I’d been with the hundreds before him. His bones would join the others beneath the ginkgo tree in my backyard, becoming the finest of fertilizers. The doorbell chimed again, insistent, pulling me from my work. I wiped my hands clean, slipped off the blood-flecked apron, and changed into a simple, elegant dress. Only then did I glide to the door and open it. A tall man stood on my doorstep. His features were sharp, with deep-set eyes and a strong nose that gave him an aquiline intensity. A tailored black trench coat accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs. He looked at me with the piercing gaze of a hawk. “Hi, I’m Lucian. I just moved in across the hall.” His voice was a low baritone, laced with an undeniable authority. I offered a perfectly measured smile. “Hello. I’m Selene. Can I help you with something?” Instead of answering, Lucian held out a sheet of A4 paper. It was a printout of missing persons, a dozen black-and-white photos of varying quality, each with a name, age, and date of disappearance. My eyes swept over the familiar faces, my heart a placid lake. “I’m a detective with the city precinct,” he introduced himself, his gaze locked on me, searching for a flicker of reaction. “There’s been a spike in disappearances in this area. We’re canvassing the neighborhood. Do you recognize any of these people?” Maintaining my smile, I took the paper and made a show of examining it. Arthur Wells, 42, suspected of financial fraud, missing for three months. Ah, yes. He’d swindled several elderly people out of their life savings, causing one to die from a heart attack. He tasted of avarice and stale grease. Lila Reed, 35, a notorious bully, missing for two months. She had driven a young girl to leap from a school building. When I found her, she was in a bar, bragging about her “glory days.” Her soul had the sickly-sweet stench of decay. … My fingertips traced over the faces, a chef reviewing her menu. Lucian’s gaze sharpened. He raised his hand and pointed to the last man on the list. “This one is our priority. Kyle Miller. Have you seen him?” The man in the photo was the very same one I had just… processed. I lifted my eyes to meet Lucian’s probing stare, my smile deepening. “No, I don’t know him.” He studied me in silence, trying to peel back my composure to find the lie beneath. After a long moment, he took back the list. “He was last seen near this building. If you remember anything, call me.” He handed me a business card before turning to leave. I closed the door and tossed the card into the trash without a second glance. Back in the kitchen, I looked at my half-finished work on the countertop and found my appetite had vanished. This detective, Lucian, was like a bloodhound with a keen nose. For the first time in three hundred years, I felt a prickle of annoyance. The next morning, as I went to take out the trash, I ran into him again. He was out for a morning run, dressed in athletic gear, a light sheen of sweat on his brow. He stopped when he saw me. “Morning, Selene.” “Morning,” I nodded, ready to move on. “Your trash bag…” he said suddenly, his eyes fixed on the black sack in my hand. “I think it’s leaking.” I looked down. A single drop of dark crimson was seeping from the bottom of the bag, staining the clean pavement. Kyle’s blood. I’d been too hasty, and a shard of bone must have torn the plastic. My heartbeat didn’t falter. I calmly met Lucian’s gaze. “Oh, it must be the leftover beef stew from last night. I was in a hurry when I threw it out.” His eyes traveled from the drop of blood on the ground, slowly, deliberately, up to my face. His stare felt like a scalpel, ready to slice me open. “Is that right?” he asked, his tone unreadable. “Funny. It doesn’t smell like beef stew to me.” 2. Trouble in the Garden “Perhaps my sense of smell is off, then,” I replied, my expression unchanged, before tossing the bag into a nearby dumpster. “If there’s nothing else, Detective, I should be getting back.” I turned and walked away without giving him another look. Back in my apartment, I stood by the window and watched his figure disappear into the morning light. This man was even sharper than I’d anticipated. Over the next few days, I kept “bumping into” Lucian. In the community garden, at the local supermarket, even at my favorite bookstore. He never initiated conversation, but he was always there, just within my line of sight, his hawk-like eyes a constant, silent presence. I knew what he was doing. He was watching me. One afternoon, I was in the backyard watering my ginkgo tree when someone knocked on the gate. When I opened it, Lucian was standing there, but he wasn’t alone. A plump woman I didn’t recognize was with him. The moment she saw me, her voice shot up. “That’s her, Officer! That’s the woman! The night Kyle went missing, I saw her creeping back home!” I vaguely recognized her now. Mrs. Gable from the next building, the neighborhood’s most notorious gossip. Lucian gave Mrs. Gable a brief glance before turning his professional gaze on me. “Selene, you are a person of interest in the disappearance of Kyle Miller. We need you to cooperate with our investigation.” “Me?” I feigned a laugh, as if it were the most absurd thing I’d ever heard. “On what grounds?” Mrs. Gable jumped in immediately. “On the grounds that I saw you! It was almost midnight, and I got up to use the bathroom. I saw her dragging a huge suitcase back home! It looked heavy, really heavy! Kyle was a big guy, over six feet tall. I bet he was in that suitcase!” My gaze turned cold as I fixed it on her. “Mrs. Gable, you can choke on your food, but you shouldn’t choke on your words. Which one of your eyes saw Kyle Miller inside my suitcase?” My stare made her flinch, but with a cop by her side, her courage returned. “Well… I guessed! What’s a single woman like you doing dragging a giant suitcase around in the middle of the night? What else could it be but a body?” What a foolish, venomous assumption. I was done wasting my breath on her. I looked directly at Lucian. “Detective, are you really going to investigate me based on this kind of baseless gossip?” Lucian ignored her chatter. His gaze drifted past me, settling on the flourishing ginkgo tree in my yard. “We’re just asking some routine questions, Selene,” he said, then his tone shifted. “That’s a fine ginkgo tree you have. Must be well-fed, huh?” I felt an invisible hand clench around my heart, but my face remained a placid mask. “It does alright. I use kitchen scraps for fertilizer from time to time.” “Kitchen scraps?” A cryptic smile touched Lucian’s lips. “Something like… bone meal?” The air crackled, thick with unspoken meaning. Mrs. Gable, oblivious to the undercurrent, kept flapping her gums. “Officer, you have to search her place! I’m sure you’ll find evidence! A woman like her, with no history… she’s up to no good, I tell you!” My patience snapped. I’ve lived for three centuries. I’ve met more people than Mrs. Gable has eaten hot dinners. Women like her—leeches who live vicariously through others, their only joy found in gossip and slander—were the one type of creature I truly despised. “Mrs. Gable,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “You, of all people, should know what kind of man Kyle Miller was. His drunken rages were loud enough for the whole complex to hear. A man like that goes missing, shouldn’t you be setting off fireworks? Why are you so eager to find his supposed killer?” Her face turned the color of raw liver. “What are you talking about! That’s just how some married couples are! What would a single woman like you know about passion?” “Passion?” I scoffed. “The kind of passion that lands someone in the emergency room?” “You… you…” She sputtered, trembling with rage, pointing a finger at me. Lucian cut in smoothly. “Selene, please answer my question.” His eyes were like nails, pinning me in place. “What, exactly, is in your kitchen scraps?” I met his gaze head-on. “If you’re so curious,” I said, my voice a low challenge, “why don’t you grab a shovel and find out for yourself?” I expected him to back down, or at least to go get a warrant. But he just gave me a long, searching look, then turned to Mrs. Gable. “Ma’am, we have your statement. You can go home now.” She left, grumbling under her breath. Now it was just Lucian and me at the gate. “Selene,” he began, his tone softening slightly. “I’m not targeting you. But Kyle’s wife… she’s not doing well. She’s pregnant, and her husband is gone.” I laughed silently. Not doing well? She was probably ecstatic. “That’s her business. It has nothing to do with me.” “You’re sure you don’t remember anything at all?” Lucian pressed. “Nothing.” He stood there for a moment longer, then turned to leave. Watching his retreating back, I didn’t feel relief. I felt a heightened sense of alarm. The hound was closing his net. 3. The Trap is Sprung As expected, trouble arrived on my doorstep. The next day, the property manager, a paunchy middle-aged man named Mr. Henderson, knocked on my door with two workmen in tow. “Ms. Selene,” he said, his face stretched into a sycophantic grin. “So sorry to bother you. We’ve received a complaint from another resident. They’re concerned the roots of your ginkgo tree might be compromising the building’s foundation. We need to have our guys take a look. We might… have to move the tree.” Compromising the foundation? The excuse was so flimsy it was insulting. This building was fifty years old; my tree had been here for less than thirty. I didn’t need to guess who was behind this. “Mr. Henderson, don’t you think that’s a bit of a stretch?” I said, blocking the doorway. His smile faltered. “Well, Ms. Selene, it’s a safety issue. And the complaint came from Mrs. Gable. You know how she is. Our hands are tied.” He shrugged, absolving himself of all responsibility. “And if I refuse?” His expression hardened. “This is a community matter, not a personal one. If you obstruct our work and something happens, will you take full responsibility?” The two workmen behind him clutched their shovels and pickaxes, looking ready to force their way in. I knew then they were digging up that tree today, one way or another. What lay buried beneath it could never see the light of day. I took a deep breath, preparing to use… unconventional means… to persuade them to leave, when a voice cut through the tension. “What’s going on here?” It was Lucian. He was standing off to the side, his face a cold mask as he observed the scene. The moment Mr. Henderson saw him, his demeanor changed instantly. “Oh, Detective! You live here too? We just received a complaint and came to deal with this tree.” Lucian’s gaze swept over the tools in the workmen’s hands, then settled on me. I said nothing, simply meeting his stare, waiting to see his next move. “Dealing with a tree requires this kind of equipment?” Lucian gestured to the shovels. “Are you here to transplant it or to excavate?” Mr. Henderson stammered, “Well, you know… just in case.” “According to city ordinance 34B, trees on community property belong to all residents. Unilateral removal or transplantation is illegal,” Lucian stated, his voice calm but imbued with a chilling authority. “Do you have a resolution from the homeowners’ association? Have you filed the proper paperwork with the Parks Department?” The string of technical questions left the manager completely flustered. “We… uh…” “If not, please leave,” Lucian ordered. “If this happens again, I’ll report it myself.” Mr. Henderson’s face cycled through shades of red and white. He hadn’t expected the new tenant to be so well-versed in the law. He shot me a venomous glare that screamed This isn’t over, then scurried away with his workmen. Just like that, Lucian had diffused the crisis. I looked at him, feeling not a shred of gratitude, only a deepening suspicion. Why had he helped me? “Thanks, Detective,” I said flatly. “Don’t thank me,” he replied, his expression complex. “I just don’t believe in using illegal methods to conduct an investigation.” He paused, his eyes locking with mine. “Of course, when I conduct my own investigation, I’ll be sure to use legal ones.” The threat was unmistakable. “Like a search warrant?” I raised an eyebrow. He didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself. “I’ll be waiting,” I said, before closing the gate. Leaning against the cool wood, I listened to his footsteps fade away. That familiar frustration churned inside me again. He was a stone tossed into the placid lake of my three-hundred-year existence, sending out ripples I couldn’t control. Worse, I was beginning to realize I couldn’t see through him. He suspected me, yet he stopped others from digging up my yard. What was his endgame? That night, I made a decision. I wouldn’t wait passively for him to corner me. It was time to go on the offensive, to create a diversion that would draw his attention elsewhere. I needed new prey. It didn’t take long to find the perfect target: a loan shark named Leo. He had ruined several families, and was currently in hiding after a deal went bad. Conveniently, his last known location was near a different precinct, far from Lucian’s direct jurisdiction. I dressed in black and melted into the night. Finding Leo was easy. He was holed up in an abandoned warehouse with a pair of goons. They were no match for me. Leo dissolved into a blubbering mess, falling to his knees and begging for his life. “Don’t kill me! Please! You want money? Take it all!” I looked down at him, my expression as cold as a butcher’s slab. “I don’t want your money,” I said. “I’m just here to deliver a message. Some people are not to be trifled with.” Then, I snapped his neck. Before I left, I carefully arranged the scene, leaving behind a few calculated clues—enough to link this case to other unsolved ones, creating the profile of a phantom killer, but nothing that could ever trace back to me. By the time I was finished, the sky was beginning to pale. I returned home, took a long shower, and believed I had finally bought myself some peace. But the next afternoon, my doorbell rang again. I opened it to find Lucian on my doorstep, his face as dark as a thundercloud. Behind him stood two uniformed police officers. “Selene,” he said, his voice hard as steel as he looked me in the eye. “You are under arrest for suspicion of involvement in multiple homicides.” He produced a pair of gleaming steel handcuffs.

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