I am a nine-lived cat spirit, consort to the Celestial Realm’s God of War. Three years after my death, he finally remembered me. He descended to the mortal realm, seeking to tear another tail from me to save his childhood love. The little girl I once saved was now an old woman, her hair as white as snow. She told the God of War that I was already dead. He scoffed. “If my memory serves, she has two lives left. If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it a good one.” “Tell her this,” he commanded, his voice cold as ice. “Save Lyra, and she may remain my consort.” Suddenly, his eyes fell on the boy hiding behind the old woman, a boy with my striking resemblance. His expression hardened. “Well, well. Only ten years in the mortal realm, and she’s already managed to have a child. Since she refuses to show herself, then she can’t blame me for starting with the boy.” 1 A torrential rain lashed down from the heavens. Kaelus, the God of War, stood untouched by the downpour, clad in immaculate white robes. Not a single drop marred his perfect form. With a cruel yank, he ripped my son from behind Agnes’s frail frame. A mocking sneer twisted his lips. “Hah. The resemblance is uncanny. Elara has done well for herself, hasn’t she? Ten years of exile, and she even found time to have a child.” His voice dripped with venom. “When I find whatever bastard sired him, I will tear him limb from limb!” He extended a finger, tracing a line across my son Leo’s arm. A raw, bleeding gash split the skin. Leo let out a piercing wail. As he cried, the wound on his arm slowly began to heal itself. “He is Elara’s son, no doubt,” Kaelus declared. “If she will not crawl out to face me, then I have no choice but to take her son’s tail instead!” Agnes’s hands trembled as she dropped her cane, falling to her knees with a thud before Kaelus. The cold rain soaked her white hair, plastering it to her wrinkled face. “Lord Kaelus, Elara… Elara is already dead! How can you expect her to come out and meet you?!” Kaelus’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Dead? Don’t be absurd. She has two lives left! Don’t play these childish games with me. She heard Lyra was injured and now she refuses to help, is that it? It’s just one tail. It’s not as if I’m asking for her life!” I floated in the air above them, a dull ache still throbbing in the place where my heart used to be. Strange. I’d been dead for three years; how could I still feel pain? My heart ached for Agnes, and it broke for my little Leo. Agnes crawled forward on her knees, wrapping her arms around Leo. “My lord, I’m not lying to you. Elara passed away three years ago.” Kaelus’s laugh was a cold, sharp thing. “You refuse my generosity, so you’ll taste my wrath.” He seized Leo, lifting him into the air with an invisible force. He bellowed towards the small cottage. “Elara! I am giving you one last chance. If you do not crawl out here this instant, I will take it out on your son. A nine-lived cat spirit is a nine-lived cat spirit. It makes no difference to me whose tail I take!” Suspended in the air, Leo coughed and sputtered as the rain choked him, his small hands flailing wildly. “You’re a bad man! A monster!” Agnes, prone in the mud, clutched at Kaelus’s pristine boots. “My lord, I’m begging you. He is just a child. Please, spare him.” With a casual flick of his wrist, Kaelus sent Leo crashing to the ground. He coughed up a mouthful of blood. “I will give Elara one day,” Kaelus announced, his voice echoing in the storm. “If she does not show herself by tomorrow, she can’t blame me for being merciless. And as for the bastard she bore with her mortal lover, he will be punished alongside her!” He turned, his robes swirling around him, and vanished. Agnes and Leo clung to each other, their sobs lost in the sound of the rain. “Auntie Agnes,” Leo whimpered, “who… who was that? He was so scary.” A shadow passed over Agnes’s eyes. “He is no one, my dear. No one important at all.” 2 I clenched my fists, a bitter sorrow welling up inside me. Kaelus, how could you not even recognize your own son? Her mortal lover? The thought was so absurd it was almost laughable. But then, he had never truly cared for me. How could he possibly know Leo was his child? And even if he did, he would likely just transfer all his hatred for me onto our son. Agnes helped Leo back into the cottage and immediately began to pack. “Leo, we have to leave. We can’t stay here any longer.” A wave of relief washed over me. She remembered my words. Before I died, I had told her that if Kaelus ever came looking for me, she had to run. No matter how far, she had to run. I hovered behind Agnes, whispering an apology she couldn’t hear. I’m so sorry, Agnes. I’ve dragged you into this. She clutched the jade talisman I’d given her, her eyes filled with a deep longing. “Elara, you gave me my life. Don’t worry. I will protect Leo, no matter the cost.” Looking at her face, softened by the flickering lamplight, it was as if I was back fifty years ago, seeing that little girl who had fallen from a cliff while trying to gather herbs for her sick mother. I had been passing by and saved her, healing her mother as well. Such a simple act, and yet she remembered it her entire life. She always said she could never repay my kindness. Ten years ago, when Kaelus cast me out of the Celestial Realm and my enemies hunted me, it was Agnes who took me in. We had been on the run ever since. I thought Kaelus had finally forgotten me, but it seemed even in death, I could find no peace. Agnes quickly finished packing, and under the cover of darkness, they slipped out of the cottage. She glanced back one last time at the home we’d shared for a decade, sighed, and then turned away without hesitation, leading Leo into the night. The talisman I gave her would grant them passage into a hidden cave within my tomb. It held the last vestiges of my spirit energy, enough to shield them from Kaelus’s detection. But it would only last for a week. That would be enough. Kaelus would never spend more than three days searching for me. They hadn’t gone far when he appeared before them. He stood like a statue in their path, an immense pressure radiating from him, forcing Agnes and Leo to their knees, blood trickling from their lips. I flew at Kaelus, beating against him with my spectral fists. “You bastard, Kaelus! Is this how you treat an innocent old woman and a child?! And you call yourself the God of War, protector of all realms!” But he couldn’t feel my blows or hear my screams. I was filled with despair. I knew that for his precious Lyra, he was capable of anything. He looked down at them, his voice laced with contempt. “And where do you two think you’re going?” Agnes struggled to speak. “I… I was just going to buy Leo something to eat.” “Oh? And you need to pack all your belongings to go shopping? Do you take me for a fool? You were trying to run!” His voice cracked like a whip. “I already gave you a chance!” Suddenly, a surge of strength filled Leo. Claws sprang from his fingertips as he lunged at Kaelus. “You monster! Don’t you hurt Auntie Agnes! I’ll bite you! I’ll kill you!” My spirit heart leaped into my throat. “Leo, no!” I screamed into the void. An enraged Kaelus would surely kill him! Even if Leo was his own son. He wouldn’t care. Not if he came from me. Kaelus, caught off guard by the sudden attack, hissed as Leo’s claws tore a deep gash in his arm. His eyes turned to ice. He seized Leo by the throat, lifting him effortlessly. “You’re just like your mother. Pathetic and defiant.” Leo glared at him, spitting out the words. “My mother was the best person in the world! You’re not allowed to talk about her!” Tears streamed down Agnes’s face as she slammed her forehead against the rocky ground, again and again, until it was a bloody mess. I spun in the air, frantic with rage. Kaelus, you animal! A white-hot hatred consumed me. Kaelus, I am truly beginning to hate you. 3 “My lord, please,” Agnes sobbed. “Let Leo go. I’ve already told you, Elara died three years ago.” Kaelus’s grip tightened. “Is that so? Well, if she’s dead, then her son’s tail will have to do! I refuse to believe she would stand by and watch her own child be mutilated!” Leo’s face was turning a deep shade of purple. Agnes’s lips trembled as she forced out the words. “My lord… Leo… Leo is your son.” My head snapped towards Agnes. How… how did she know? I had never told her the truth about Leo’s father. She had never asked. Perhaps it was the slight resemblance in his features. Kaelus raised an eyebrow. “You’ll say anything to save Lyra, won’t you?” He clearly didn’t believe her. A ball of fire materialized in his right hand, and he pressed it against Leo’s arm. Leo screamed in agony as the Celestial Flame seared his flesh, leaving his small arm a mess of charred tissue. The wound showed no signs of healing. The blood of Kaelus was a divine fire. A cat spirit’s powerful regenerative abilities were useless against it. The wound would only begin to heal once the last embers of the flame had died out. Twenty years ago, Lyra had framed me. In his rage, Kaelus had burned me with his Celestial Flame for an hour. My entire body was a wreck of festering wounds. It took me five years to fully recover. Leo was not even ten years old. How could he possibly withstand such a thing? Kaelus sneered. “He can’t even withstand my Celestial Flame, and you dare claim he is my son? It seems ten years of suffering in the mortal realm haven’t changed Elara’s vicious nature one bit!” Leo was too young. The God of War’s bloodline had not yet awakened within him. Kaelus, you truly are a monster! He shouted into the darkness around them. “Elara, I’ve changed my mind! This is your final chance. If you do not show yourself, I will not only take your son’s tail, I will burn him with my Celestial Flame for three days and three nights!” In a panic, Agnes rushed forward to shield Leo. But she was only a mortal. The moment she touched the divine fire, her entire hand disintegrated into ash. Her bloodcurdling scream echoed through the forest. I was consumed by a blinding rage. I wanted to kill Kaelus. Kaelus, Kaelus, I hate you. I hate that I ever met you, and I hate myself for ever loving you! Kaelus extinguished the flame, but Agnes’s arm was gone. Leo, fighting through his own pain, crawled to her side. He bit into his own wrist and let his blood drip onto her wound, staunching the flow. He turned to Kaelus, his voice raw with grief. “You monster! Who are you? My mother is gone! Why do you hate her so much?! My mother is dead! I am her son! If you want revenge, take it out on me! I don’t know what she did to you, but I’m begging you, please, don’t hurt Auntie Agnes!” Kaelus flinched at his words. His lips moved, but he said nothing. He probably couldn’t bring himself to admit that I, a “vicious” cat spirit, was the consort of the great God of War. He had always seen me as a source of shame. Agnes’s face was ashen. After a long moment, she managed to catch her breath. Using her one remaining hand, she propped herself up with her cane. The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling mockery. She looked at Kaelus and smiled. “Lord Kaelus, you wanted to see Elara, didn’t you? Then follow me.” Kaelus, completely oblivious to the change in her demeanor, assumed his Celestial Flame had finally broken them. A triumphant smirk played on his lips. “If you had just led me to her in the first place, you could have avoided all this suffering.” Agnes walked ahead, laughing softly to herself. “Elara, Elara,” she murmured, “is this the man you once loved so deeply? It was never worth it.” I’m sorry, Agnes. I’m so sorry. I wished I could go back to the day I first met Kaelus, a hundred years ago. I would have turned and walked away without a second thought. I would have never allowed our paths to cross. Never. 4 Soon, we arrived at my tomb. It was a simple grave, set into the face of a cliff. Agnes took out the jade talisman I had given her. A gentle squeeze would shatter it and open the cliff face. The moment Kaelus saw the talisman, his expression faltered. It was our betrothal gift. He snatched it from her, staring at it for a long moment before speaking, his voice laced with a strange anger. “She never took this off. So, she finds a new lover, and even her most precious tokens become meaningless.” Agnes’s eyes were filled with scorn. She snatched the talisman back and squeezed, but her strength failed her. Frustrated, she threw it to the ground, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. “How dare you!” Kaelus roared, grabbing her by the collar. “You wanted to see Elara,” Agnes said, her voice flat as she gestured to the opening in the cliff. “She’s in there.” Kaelus snorted, then dragged Leo into the cave. But it was utterly empty. There was nothing inside. He had been tricked. A powerful malevolence radiated from him, and the temperature inside the cave plummeted. Agnes leaned against the wall, shivering violently. I rushed to embrace her, but my arms passed right through. A mortal would freeze to death in this cold, especially one of her age! But Agnes seemed oblivious to the cold. She caressed the stone wall with a tender familiarity. “Elara. It’s been a long time.” It has. My physical form had become the mountain itself. With a flick of his wrist, Kaelus transformed Leo into a tiny kitten, mewling in his grasp. “Fine. You’re all as defiant as she is. You think my patience is endless? Then I will offer the son she had with her lover as a sacrifice!” He raised his hand to tear away Leo’s single tail. “Hah. One tail? You lie just like your mother. You wretched little thing.” I shrieked, throwing myself at Kaelus. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I screamed and begged him to spare Leo. I was a nine-lived cat. Giving birth to Leo had left me on the brink of death. He was just an ordinary cat spirit. He only had one life. Kaelus, are you really going to murder your own child?! Just then, a series of weak coughs echoed from the cave entrance. Lyra, Kaelus’s childhood love, was being helped inside by a servant. Her face was pale, and a trickle of blood stained the corner of her lips. “Kaelus, my love,” she whispered, “if Lady Elara is unwilling, then let it be. My life is not worth this trouble.” She shivered, rubbing her arms. Kaelus immediately rushed to her side, wrapping her in a protective embrace. The chilling aura around him dissipated, and the cave slowly began to warm. I breathed a sigh of relief as Agnes’s breathing evened out. “Don’t be afraid, Lyra,” Kaelus soothed. “If that woman refuses, we still have the son she bore with her mortal lover. I won’t let you die. After what she did to you, this is what she deserves.” A fleeting, triumphant smile flashed across Lyra’s face as she buried her head in his chest. Agnes, having regained some of her strength, began to laugh, a hollow, broken sound. “Kaelus, if you dare touch Leo, you will regret it for the rest of your life. I promise you that.” A cold smile touched Kaelus’s lips. “Is that so? I’d like to see you make me.” As he spoke, a golden light emanated from his hand. Leo’s tail was in his grasp. And then, Kaelus froze. A brilliant flame, the Celestial Flame exclusive to the God of War’s bloodline, erupted from Leo’s small body.

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1 I was the tragic first love, the one who died taking a knife for the male lead. Ten years after my death, a System forcibly resurrected me and told me I had to be a stepmom. 「Host, your mission is to save the child on that rooftop.」 「He is your husband’s son. If you don’t intervene, he will die today.」 I didn’t want to watch someone die, but I’ve been spoiled and headstrong my whole life. So, I strode over in my stilettos and gave him a light nudge with my foot. “You’re just as pathetic as your father. What’s with all this melodrama?” “Where is your dad, anyway? Get him on the phone. Tell him to come pick me up.” … The kid just stared at me, then looked around as if I were a ghost that had materialized in broad daylight. In the end, he didn’t ask anything, just lowered his head again. I couldn’t stand his defeated posture. I ran a hand through my hair in frustration and snatched his phone. “You know your dad’s number?” The call log and notifications were completely empty. Not even a single spam text. He fumbled for a moment before slowly typing in a number. The phone barely rang once before the call was disconnected, leaving a series of hollow beeps. I frowned. “The nerve of that Patrick Shaw. He’s really gotten bold, ignoring calls now.” The kid, however, showed no reaction. He just stood beside me in silence, a perfect little statue. After eight consecutive calls, someone finally answered. A woman’s voice. “This is Patrick Shaw’s office. He’s busy.” And then she hung up, not even giving me a chance to curse her out. I was so angry I wanted to smash the phone, but the kid tugged on my sleeve. I forced myself to calm down. “It’s fine, sweetie. I’ll take you to find Patrick and we’ll settle this.” The kid just kept holding my sleeve, looking dazed. After a long pause, he managed to choke out a few words. “Don’t want to be a bother.” Those words completely deflated my anger. I sighed in resignation. “Then let’s go back?” Once we were in the car, I studied him for a while. “Your name is Sam?” “Mhm.” I asked the System again. “Is he really Patrick Shaw’s son?” 「According to the rules of your human world, yes.」 I accepted my fate and started trying to be a decent stepmom, making conversation with Sam. I asked him what he liked to eat. He said anything was fine. I asked him what he liked to play. He didn’t answer. I asked him why he was on the rooftop. He turned away from me. I finally lost my patience, pulled him into my lap, and asked if Patrick knew he was playing “let’s jump off the roof.” Only then did he slowly lift his head like a little robot and say, enunciating each word carefully, “Dad’s busy. Don’t want to be a bother.” I felt a lump of frustration rise in my throat. Was “don’t want to be a bother” the only phrase he knew? How on earth had Patrick raised his son to be like this? The System quietly tried to comfort me. 「Host, don’t be so harsh. The child is just too considerate. He keeps everything bottled up inside.」 Of course, I knew that. He was just a little boy. This was clearly the fault of the adults in his life. The car pulled up to a familiar house. A crucial question suddenly occurred to me. “System, where’s his mother?” 「There isn’t one.」 Isn’t one? The moment I stepped through the front door, I felt a sense of disorientation, as if I had just gone out for a walk instead of being gone for ten years. The coat I had carelessly hung in the entryway was still there, perfectly preserved without a single wrinkle. There was no sign of another woman’s presence in the entire house, except for a green hairpin on the console table. I went upstairs, my feet finding their way easily, and opened the door to my old room. It was exactly as I had left it. When I came back downstairs, Sam was gone. I searched everywhere and finally found him in a corner of the living room. He had unearthed a calculus workbook thicker than a brick and was methodically working through the problems. He was so well-behaved it was terrifying. “Is he always like this?” I asked the System. 「Mhm. For the son of Patrick Shaw, not being exceptional is also a form of being a bother.」 I immediately marched over, snatched the workbook, and tossed it in the trash. Sam stared at me, then his brow furrowed. His head tilted slightly, like a little robot with a short circuit. I stared back at him, a silent battle of wills. Ten minutes later, I rubbed my tired eyes and admitted defeat. “I’m hungry.” The little robot successfully processed the command. He scurried to the kitchen and expertly turned on the gas stove. “Don’t touch that! It’s dangerous!” My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. I rushed over and shut off the valve. He cowered in the corner like a startled kitten, his face a mask of confusion. I was about to lose my mind. I looked around the kitchen and couldn’t help but ask the System, “How old is he?” 「Six.」 Fantastic. A six-year-old cooking on a gas stove. Patrick Shaw has to be out of his mind. I paced back and forth, hands on my hips, trying to rein in my temper. Finally, I turned to Sam. “That’s too dangerous. I’ll take you out to eat.” “System, get your virtual butt out here and tell me what the hell has been going on for the past ten years.” The System glitched for a second before starting its report. After my death, Patrick had thrown himself into his work, becoming a relentless workaholic. He neglected his own health and well-being, so it was no surprise that he had no capacity to care for Sam. For years, he had hired nannies to look after the boy. But with no other adults around, the nannies would often secretly abuse Sam. It was only when the bruises became too numerous to hide that the abuse was discovered. Patrick fired the nanny, and for the first time, Sam made a request. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need a nanny.” “I won’t be a bother.” From that day on, Sam lived alone. Patrick’s assistant, a woman named Olivia, would check in on him every couple of days. “Who’s Olivia?” 「Patrick’s new assistant, hired after you died.」 It seemed a lot had happened in Patrick’s world during my ten-year absence. Ignoring my internal monologue, the System continued. 「Olivia has a reputation for being well-liked at the company, which is why Patrick trusted her with Sam. But Sam never liked her. In fact, he showed a clear aversion to her.」 “Why?” For a child as emotionless as Sam, a clear aversion was significant. 「Because Olivia tried to manipulate him. She told him to tell Patrick, ‘I want Olivia to be my mom.’」 「But Sam refused. So, from then on, Olivia targeted him in subtle ways.」 “Like what?” Adult malice might not be as direct as a child’s, but for a vulnerable boy like Sam, it was surely devastating. 「As you’ve seen, Sam is very withdrawn.」 「So, she told Patrick that Sam was slow and a liar. Then she’d turn around and tell Sam that Patrick saw him as a burden and wished he wouldn’t cause any more trouble.」 「She told him that a bastard of unknown origin like him was unworthy of love, and that once she married Patrick, his days as a burden would be over.」 My nails dug into my palms. I let out a cold laugh. “A burden, huh?” 「What are you planning to do?」 the System asked meekly. “Help Patrick get his eyes checked. If he’s not going to use them, he might as well donate them. And as for that Olivia, bullying a child like that… I’m going to make her life a living hell.” As if on cue, Olivia arrived. A haughty voice echoed from the doorway. “You brat! This water is scalding! Are you trying to kill me? And who gave you permission to bring a strange woman into this house?” “Do you think this is a shelter? Isn’t it enough that I have to deal with you, you little piece of trash? Now you’re bringing in a big one?” “Tell her to get out.” Sam, who had never once stood up to her, moved. He stood in front of Olivia, blocking her path. “No.” Olivia gritted her teeth in fury. “Sam, do you have any idea what you’re doing? Do you want me to call your father right now and have him throw you out on the street? Move, you little bastard.” Sam just stood there, his head bowed, not moving, not responding. My heart felt like it was being pricked by a thousand needles. I walked up to Olivia. “You seem to love trash talk so much. How come you haven’t been recycled yet?” Before she could say another word, my hand connected with her face. “You hit me?” “You’re damn right I did.” I pulled Sam behind me, shielding him. Olivia clutched her cheek, her eyes raking over me with disdain. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Patrick Shaw’s most trusted assistant. The woman who has been by his side the longest. So you’ve won over this little bastard. So what? I’m the one who’s going to be with Patrick. And when that happens, I’ll have you both thrown out.” Then, she turned her threats on Sam. “Mr. Shaw specifically ordered that woman’s room to be locked up. No one has been allowed in for ten years. And you let a complete stranger in. Just think about the consequences. If I tell him about this, you’re finished. So…” Slap. Another one. “Still barking?” Olivia clutched both of her now-reddened cheeks, staring at me in disbelief. “You hit me again?” “Do I need an appointment?” She lunged at me, but Sam immediately stepped in front of me, a small, unwavering shield. Olivia hissed, “Fine. Fine. Fine,” and pulled out her phone, dialing Patrick. “Mr. Shaw, I just got here and Sam has brought a strange woman into the house. He even let her into… into your late wife’s room… And they hit me…” I snorted. “The guilty one is always the first to complain.” “Wait!” Patrick’s voice suddenly came through the phone, filled with a mixture of shock and a tremor of hope. “Turn on the video. Let me see her face.” Olivia looked confused, but she obeyed, pointing the camera at me.

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My husband prided himself on being a modern, enlightened man. When his mother had a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital, I called him, frantic. He replied casually, “Mom’s in the hospital. It’s serious. You should come now.” In the background, I could hear him laughing with his childhood friend Michelle. “Michelle’s on her period and needs me here,” he said. “Tell you what—I’ll bite this chocolate. If the filling is yellow, I’ll come. If it’s pink, I stay with Michelle.” A pause. “Pink. Guess I’m staying. And don’t worry too much about your mom—everyone has their fate.” In my past life, I begged and borrowed to save his mother. But when I lay dying in childbirth, my husband showed me a pink-filled chocolate and shrugged. His mother turned away, silent. After I died, I watched him hold Michelle, smug. “What an idiot,” he said. “I bought that special chocolate—all pink. If not for the apartment in her name, I wouldn’t have wasted time on her. Only you, Michelle, should carry my child.” Now, staring at his box of “decision-making” chocolates, I smiled coldly. You love making choices, don’t you, dear husband? This time, I’ll make sure you have plenty to choose from. 1 “Mia, I have to run out for a bit. You’re on your own for dinner.” I sat at the table, my mind still reeling, but the words tumbled out of my mouth on instinct. “Where are you going so late? It’s my birthday.” Mark didn’t even pause as he walked to the entryway. He grabbed his coat, his voice laced with impatience. “Michelle just called. She had a nightmare. She’s over there crying her eyes out. Am I supposed to just leave her alone?” “Mia, can you be a little more understanding? She’s younger than you. What’s the big deal with cutting her some slack?” His words finally snapped me back to reality. I looked at the birthday cake on the table and knew, with a chilling certainty, that I had been reborn. Reborn to the day my tragedy began. My birthday. Last time, he’d used those exact words to shut me up, to make me question if I was being too jealous, too petty, for getting upset over a girl a few years younger than me. Back then, desperate to keep our marriage afloat, I had said nothing. I had let him go to Michelle on my birthday. And when Mark came back the next day, he brought a gift and an apology, looking so genuinely sorry. “Honey, I was just so worried yesterday. Michelle and I grew up together. She’s like my little sister. Taking care of her is just a habit. You know if I had any feelings for her beyond that, I never would have pursued you so relentlessly.” I had believed him. I’d even bought Michelle a gift to make up for my hostility. But this time, I was done being the fool. As he was about to leave, I slammed my hand on the table and stood up, my voice cold. “Michelle’s so young? She’s twenty-five, Mark. Does she not have parents to comfort her? Does it have to be someone else’s husband?” “If you’re so in love with her, let’s just get a divorce right now. Then you two won’t have to sneak around anymore.” Mark’s face went rigid. He turned, his eyes darting around nervously. “Honey, what are you talking about? You’re the only one I love. There’s nothing romantic between Michelle and me. I only see her as a sister. Please don’t be jealous. I’m just worried something might happen to her.” He walked over, put his arm around my shoulder, and picked up the box of chocolates from the table, his tone a mixture of indulgence and exasperation. “Alright, let’s let the chocolate decide. If the filling is yellow, I’ll stay and celebrate your birthday with you. If it’s pink, I’ll go check on Michelle.” He popped a chocolate into his mouth, and of course, the filling was pink. He looked at the chocolate in his hand, his face showing no surprise or disappointment. “See, honey? The chocolate has decided. There’s nothing I can do. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. We’ll celebrate your birthday again.” Before the words were even fully out of his mouth, he was out the door, without a moment’s hesitation. I watched it all unfold with a blank expression. I already knew this would be the outcome. I had no intention of stopping him. Remembering what I had seen after my death, I scanned the room, my eyes landing on the numerous chocolate boxes scattered around our home. I picked up the box Mark had just put down, dumped out the contents, and bit into them, one by one. One, two, three… A laugh escaped my lips. Mark. He really had played me for a fool my entire life. We were colleagues. Shortly after I joined the company, he claimed it was love at first sight and began to pursue me relentlessly. He was thoughtful in every way, bringing me breakfast and dinner, walking me home, even helping me build relationships with my coworkers. When I collapsed at home from a stomach bug, he was the first one to find me, breaking down the door and calling an ambulance. After my parents’ divorce, I hadn’t experienced that kind of care in a long time. I was moved, and I accepted his proposal. At our wedding, he emotionally vowed to cherish me, to care for me, and to never betray me. I thought we would be happy forever, the picture-perfect couple. But after we were married, for some reason, he developed this habit of letting a chocolate make his difficult decisions. The problem was, his “difficult decisions” always involved Michelle. And the chocolate, time and time again, always chose Michelle. For the sake of our relationship, I conceded, again and again. But he only became more brazen. He even said “everyone has their own fate” about his own mother when she was critically ill, because he’d mistaken her for mine. I had planned to have a serious talk with him after his mother recovered. But then I found out I was pregnant. He was ecstatic. “Honey, we’re having a baby! I’ll be even better to you and the baby from now on. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world!” His mother held my hand, tears in her eyes. “My dear, you saved my life, and now you’re giving our family an heir. You are our greatest treasure. From now on, you are my own daughter.” I was so happy. I thought he had truly changed, and I let the past go. But when I was on the operating table, fighting for my life, I heard his cold voice from outside the door. “The chocolate is pink. Let’s just stop the resuscitation.”

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This weekend, my husband and I were invited to a charity auction. During the bidding, his secretary and I both set our sights on the same oil painting. I was ready for a fair contest, but right in front of me, my husband placed an unlimited bid for his secretary. “Cecily,” she sneered, “you’re nothing but a pet my husband keeps. What right do you have to compete with me?” Just as the other bidders began to drop out, I caught the auctioneer’s eye and snapped my fingers. “Whatever Mr. House is bidding,” I announced, my voice cutting through the silence, “I’ll bid one dollar more.” 01 The moment the words left my lips, every head in the grand ballroom turned to face me. A beat of stunned silence, and then, the room erupted in laughter. “Is this woman insane? Fighting her own husband over a painting? Does she have money to burn?” “She’s more than insane; she’s an idiot. A piece of arm candy daring to challenge Victor House in public. She doesn’t know her place.” “I heard before I came that House picked up a trophy wife a few years ago and just keeps her locked away at home. I guess we’re finally seeing her in the flesh.” As the whispers grew louder, the color drained from my husband Victor’s face, replaced by a deep, blotchy red. He shot up from his chair, his finger pointed accusingly at me. “Cecily, put your hand down this instant! Do you hear me?” he seethed. “You’re spending my money, the House family’s money! How dare you bid against me?” I leaned back in my chair, my posture relaxed, and met his furious gaze with a cool, steady one. “Victor, I am still your wife. You might want to show a little respect.” My eyes narrowed. “And I’m going after something I want. Why should I back down for someone else?” My gaze flickered with a sudden, sharp intensity. “Besides, I’ve never spent a single cent of your family’s money. Don’t you dare suggest otherwise.” His face went from red to purple. “Cecily! Have I not told you? In public, you will address me as Mr. House.” He spat the words out. “You’re nothing but a dog the House family took in. You and I have nothing in common!” I let out a soft sigh, my eyes locked on his. “Mr. House, are you really going to do this? Are you really going to fight me over a painting for your little secretary?” To be honest, I knew something was wrong the moment we arrived. By all rights, as Victor’s wife, I should have been seated at his side. Instead, I was tucked away at a table in the furthest, darkest corner of the room. I could have tolerated that. After all, old Mr. House, his father, had always been kind to me, often inviting me for a game of chess. A good woman should know how to indulge her husband’s foolish pride. But I never imagined that my seat, the one that rightfully belonged to me, would be occupied by Victor’s secretary, Jessica. A fresh college graduate whose only remarkable quality was her youth. And yet, here was my idiotic husband, ready to go to war for her. A hot flame of fury licked up my spine. But the so-called “rising star of the business world” was oblivious, his tirade continuing unabated. “Who the hell do you think you are, Cecily? I don’t need you telling me how to run my life,” he snarled. “For all these years, you’ve eaten our food, lived in our house. What do you possibly have that gives you the right to challenge me?” His voice rose to a crescendo. “You know what? I don’t care who knows. I’m buying this painting for Jessica, and that’s final!” Before I could even react, the secretary herself decided to chime in. She shot me a look dripping with provocation. “Miss Cecily, a word of advice? You should just drop it.” “If you make Mr. House unhappy,” she continued, a sly smile spreading across her face, “your life could get very… difficult.” She let out a little laugh. “A trophy wife should look the part, don’t you think? Am I right, Miss Cecily?” Jessica’s words sent another wave of laughter through the crowd. Even the auctioneer on stage was struggling to suppress a smirk. I, however, simply waved a dismissive hand and let out a cold chuckle. “So, what you’re saying, Miss Jessica, is that you’re prepared to go head-to-head with me today?” She smirked, her eyes filled with contempt. “Miss Cecily, let’s be realistic. You’re a housewife. You don’t even have a job. How could you possibly compete with me? Mr. House just made an unlimited bid. It’s an open checkbook. Do you have that kind of money to follow?” I slowly lifted my chin, a faint smile playing on my lips. “You’re wrong, Jessica. You and I are nothing alike.” “I don’t need a man to buy my things.” My statement was met with a fresh round of scorn. “Oh, please. This girl is all talk. She probably couldn’t have even gotten through the door without Mr. House.” “Exactly. The only reason she’s even in this room is because she married into the House family.” “Who would give her the time of day otherwise? Mr. Auctioneer, can we just get on with it? Let’s not waste any more time on this.” The mocking voices swirled around me, but they didn’t touch me. Because every word I said was the absolute truth. If I weren’t trying to save Victor a sliver of dignity, I would have proudly declared that the entire House Corporation belonged to me. Seeing my silence, the secretary grew bolder. “See? I told you. A woman with no power should just stay at home. Now look at you, completely humiliated.” Before she could finish, I slowly raised my bidding paddle. “Who said I was backing down?” My voice was clear and firm. “It’s just money. And darling, I have plenty of it.” 02 Now, every single eye in the room was fixed on me. Even the auctioneer was frozen, unsure of what to do next. He probably knew I was bluffing, but the rules were the rules; as a professional, he couldn’t bring the gavel down as long as there was an active bidder. Suddenly, Victor’s roar echoed through the ballroom. “Cecily! You’re really determined to make an enemy of me today, aren’t you?” My eyes flickered to the secretary standing possessively beside him. I answered without a shred of hesitation. “Yes.” The word hung in the air for a moment before Victor bellowed again, his voice raw with fury. “Fine! Fine! Let’s see just how deep your pockets are!” He thrust his paddle into the air. “Ten million dollars!” Anyone familiar with auctions knows that an unlimited bid is a point of no return. You either see it through to the end, or you face financial ruin. If Victor was willing to gamble his entire company for a secretary, then I was more than happy to play along. “Ten million… and one dollar.” Heads whipped back in my direction. I could see it in their faces—they were all waiting for the punchline, for me to be exposed as a fraud. No one here knew the truth. No one knew that I was the silent force behind the House Corporation. Years ago, when the House family was on the verge of bankruptcy, their patriarch, Theodore House, had shown up on my family’s doorstep in the dead of night, a marriage contract in hand, begging me to save them. To honor a debt owed by a previous generation, I had gritted my teeth and married Victor. And this man, this ungrateful fool, had never treated me as anything more than an inconvenience. He insulted me daily, and now he dared to publicly humiliate me for another woman. This was an indignity I simply could not swallow. “You bitch! Do you even have that kind of money?” Jessica shrieked, her composure finally cracking as she saw me matching her boss. “This is a high-stakes auction, not a flea market!” She jabbed a finger at me. “Let me warn you, if you can’t produce the funds, you’ll be going to jail!” I glanced up at her and offered a serene smile. “Jessica, you don’t need to worry about my finances. I suggest you worry about your boss. Once you start down this road, there’s no turning back.” My words only fueled Victor’s rage. He raised his paddle again. “You dare lecture my people in front of me, Cecily? You want to follow? Let’s see how much you really have!” “Another ten million! We’re at twenty million!” A collective gasp swept through the room. This was a charity auction, after all. While the items were valuable, they were nowhere near the eight-figure range. And this piece was just a painting by a child, not some old master. “Mr. House, how generous! On behalf of the children in need, I thank you,” I said, clapping slowly as I rose to my feet. “But… since it’s for charity, more is always better, isn’t it?” Then, under the astonished gaze of everyone present, I slowly extended a single finger. “Twenty million… and one dollar.” 03 Not a single person in that room had expected me to challenge Victor so relentlessly. Their expressions were a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. Everyone here was a titan of their industry. Victor himself had only received an invitation because of the House Corporation’s recent resurgence. I could see in his eyes that he was enjoying this, relishing the chance to publicly put me in my place. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced to the room, “let me be perfectly clear. While this woman is legally my wife, we have no actual relationship. If she fails to produce the funds later, the House Corporation will not be held responsible.” I almost laughed out loud. “Mr. House, I wouldn’t be so quick to cut ties with me,” I said sweetly. “After all, you’re the one who started this little spectacle with an unlimited bid. When you can’t pay up, you might just find yourself begging me to bail you out.” Before he could retort, his secretary stepped forward. “Cecily, are you daydreaming?” she scoffed. “You, a mere housewife, think you can compare to the entire House Corporation? You’re delusional.” I shook my head, my composure unshaken. “It may be hard for you to believe right now, but it’s the truth. If you don’t believe me, by all means, let your Mr. House test that theory.” Jessica raised an eyebrow, a sneer playing on her lips. “Be my guest. A woman who doesn’t even know her own worth, still trying to put on a brave face. How pathetic.” Her words didn’t faze me. “I’m sorry, but we’re not the same. I, Cecily, have never used a man’s money to buy anything.” Her comment sparked another round of murmurs from those who knew of my domestic situation. “Please, anyone can talk big. If she were so powerful, why would she be content as a housewife?” “Exactly. Mr. House is a rising star with a net worth in the hundreds of millions. What is she?” “She’s just a clown trying to get attention. Let’s ignore her.” I slowly got to my feet, my gaze sweeping across the entire room. “Listen to me, all of you,” I said, my voice resonating with a newfound authority. “Right now, it’s not just the House family I look down on. It’s every single one of you in this room.” I might not be a business mogul, but I know a thing or two about character. From the moment I walked in, these so-called titans of industry weren’t discussing charity; they were discussing how best to kiss Victor House’s ass. My declaration instantly made me the target of everyone’s fury. Even the auctioneer had had enough. “Ma’am, we do not welcome people like you at this event.” I tilted my head, looking up at the stage. “Oh? And what kind of person is that? Do tell.” Before he could answer, Jessica rushed the stage and snatched the microphone from his hand. “Cecily, you are a useless nobody!” Her voice boomed through the speakers, filling every corner of the ballroom. The business leaders rose to their feet, applauding in agreement. Even Victor, who had been silent for a while, watched me with a look of malicious glee. Seeing this unfold, it hit me with stunning clarity: my decision to save the House family all those years ago had been the height of foolishness. Noticing my long silence, Jessica assumed I had finally lost my nerve. She raised the microphone again. “Hey, you! Now do you see why Mr. House refuses to even sit with you?” Her voice climbed an octave, filled with triumph. “It’s because… you are not worthy.” 04 I fought back the inferno raging inside me and spoke, my voice dangerously calm. “From the sound of it, you want me to divorce your Mr. House?” Jessica’s lips split into a wide, triumphant grin. “Since you’re so self-aware, I won’t bother pretending anymore.” “That’s right. I believe I am a much better fit to be Mrs. House than you are.” I stared at her, my face a blank mask. “Go on,” I said, each word deliberate. “And?” She shot me a contemptuous glance. “Mr. House wants a divorce!” I froze for a second, then turned my head to look at Victor. “Is what she’s saying true? You really want to divorce me?” Victor arched an eyebrow, his eyes filled with disgust. “Jessica is right. I’ve wanted to divorce you for years. It was only because of my father’s pressure that I put it off. It’s perfect, actually. With all these esteemed business leaders here today, they can all be my witnesses.” He looked me straight in the eye and declared, “I, Victor House, am divorcing you!” I looked back at him, my voice devoid of any emotion. “Are you sure about this?” “Victor, have you really thought this through?” Before the words were even out of my mouth, the man pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket—a divorce agreement. “Cecily, don’t even try to talk me out of it. I have never, not for a single moment, had any feelings for you.” I studied him for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. “It looks like you came prepared for this, didn’t you, Mr. House?” He nodded without an ounce of shame. “I did. I’ve wanted to divorce you every single day. I wanted it then, I want it now, and I’ll want it in the future!” At his declaration, Jessica, still on stage, began to applaud wildly. The guests in the room quickly joined in, hooting and cheering. I scanned the crowd, a small, knowing smile touching the corners of my lips. “Well, with an atmosphere like this, it would be rude of me to say no.” “Alright, you win. I agree to the divorce. However…” Hearing that I’d agreed, Victor could barely contain his excitement. He cut me off before I could finish. “Cecily, since you agree, this makes things simple. Name your price. How much money do you want? I’ll do my best to accommodate you.” I waved my hand dismissively, my gaze deep and meaningful. “Not so fast, Mr. House. We can talk about money later. I may have agreed to a divorce, but this auction isn’t over yet.” “My last bid was twenty million and one dollar. Does Mr. House intend to raise?” Knowing Victor and his fragile ego, my challenge to continue the bidding war was the ultimate insult. His face immediately darkened. “Cecily, I’m warning you, don’t push your luck.” I raised an eyebrow at him and gave a careless shrug. “What’s wrong? The great chairman of the House Corporation is getting cold feet at a mere twenty million?” My taunt hit its mark. He exploded. “Fine! We’ll see how long you can keep this act up!” “Thirty million!” “Thirty million… and one dollar.” Victor shot me a death glare and raised his bid again. “Fifty million!” As the price soared, beads of sweat began to form on Victor’s forehead. I let out a cold laugh and spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. “Mr. House, since we’re all here for charity, why don’t we just get straight to the point?” “I bid one hundred million dollars!” The words dropped like a bomb. The entire room erupted. While most of the people here had fortunes exceeding a hundred million, having that net worth and having a hundred million in liquid cash were two very different things. Victor was stunned into silence by my sheer audacity, unable to speak. Just then, Jessica, who had been quiet for a moment, spoke up. “You little bitch, this is an auction, not a numbers game! Anyone can shout ‘one hundred million.’ The question is, can you actually pay it?” Her words were like a lifeline to Victor. A glint of hope appeared in his eyes. “Jessica’s right! Why should I have to follow whatever number you pull out of thin air?” He paused, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “Cecily, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you can’t produce that hundred million, you will be facing serious legal consequences.” Immediately, Jessica raised the microphone again, turning to the crowd. “Mr. House is right! We demand that she verify her funds right here, right now!” Seeing the predatory gleam in Jessica’s eyes, the corner of my mouth lifted into a smirk. “It took you all night, but you finally asked the right question.”

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“If you could live your life over, would you still marry your wife?” “No.” That was the answer Zeke Crawford, age 47, gave during a media interview. Overnight, it went viral. The marriage I had carefully nurtured for twenty years, the greatest achievement of my life, was shattered into a ridiculous farce by that single word. Trapped and humiliated, I was contemplating my next move when a car crash sent us hurtling back in time, back to the year we first met. I was 24. We were at a formal meeting arranged by our families, a prelude to a merger-masquerading-as-marriage. Suddenly, Zeke stood up, cutting his mother off mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, Miss Astor,” he said, his voice firm, “but I have a girlfriend. We’re done here.” My expression didn’t flicker. As he turned and strode toward the door, I called out to his retreating back. “Then, Mr. Crawford, I suppose this is goodbye for good.” His footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. He didn’t turn around. He just quickened his pace and walked out of my life. 01 My new morning routine began with yoga in the courtyard, followed by feeding the koi in our pond. After a slow, leisurely breakfast, I finally picked up my phone. As expected, it was flooded with messages. Inquiries, expressions of concern, morbid curiosity, and of course, those who were just here to watch the spectacle unfold. I knew this would happen the moment Zeke’s interview aired last night. It wasn’t surprising. As a titan in the world of high finance, his personal conduct had always been an anomaly. He didn’t smoke or drink, never gambled, and steered clear of scandals. In every public appearance, at every event, the only woman the cameras ever captured by his side was me, his legitimate wife. Over time, the legend of Zeke Crawford and his devoted wife became a celebrated tale in our circle—a story of deep love and perfect harmony. But now, on the cusp of fifty, he had personally confessed to the world that our two decades of marriage were, for him, a source of profound regret. What a regret, indeed. 02 After two days, with neither of the involved parties making a statement, the media frenzy began to die down. But Zeke never offered me a single word of explanation. It seemed my feelings weren’t a factor in his considerations. For a woman of my standing, being tactful and understanding the bigger picture were basic requirements. I had always played my part perfectly. But now, a rebellious spark I hadn’t felt in years ignited within me. In the car on the way to a gala, I was the one to break the heavy silence. “It’s Gwen, isn’t it?” I kept my voice even. “She’s back, so you’re desperate to prove something.” He was reviewing a financial report. At my words, the index finger resting on his tailored trousers curled involuntarily. It was a minuscule movement, but after years of sharing a life, I knew it was a tell. He was guilty. So it really was Gwen. What a romantic fool he was. The ghost of a first love, a flame that had burned in his heart for so many years, undying and brilliant. And me? I wasn’t even a bloodstain on the wall. Just a decorative piece, a wife he’d married out of familial duty. He heard my soft, derisive laugh and finally turned to face me. “Ari, don’t overthink it. This has nothing to do with anyone else.” God, I hated that placid, unreadable face of his. It made everything I did, everything I felt, seem like a childish tantrum. “You’re right,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s not just anyone. She’s the love of your life. My mistake, for being the placeholder for twenty years.” His brow furrowed, and he let out a sigh of weary resignation. He placed his large, warm hand over mine, a classic maneuver to deflect and pacify. “If you’re not feeling up to it, we can go home. We don’t have to attend the gala tonight.” But I was done being placated. “So, it is because of her, isn’t it? Because of Gwen, you can’t even be bothered to grant me the slightest bit of public decency anymore.” “Ariadne! Stop it.” He cut me off, his voice dropping low, laced with annoyance. I knew that tone. When a man starts evading the question, you’ve hit a nerve. But my patience had reached its absolute limit. I ripped my hand from his grasp and, with all the force I could muster, I slapped him across the face. I had wanted to do that for a very, very long time. “Let’s get a divorce, Zeke!” My voice was a raw, ragged thing. “I am so sick and tired of you!” “If there really is a next life, I would never marry you again! I would rather have died at twenty-four than ever have met you!” His head snapped to the side from the unexpected blow. He turned back slowly, his eyes wide with a dazed sort of shock. “What did you just say?” What did I say? Are you deaf? Of course, you’re an expert at playing deaf and dumb. It didn’t matter anymore. We were getting a divorce. An end to this absurd, laughable marriage. You don’t have to wait for the next life, Zeke. In this one, you can finally be with whoever you want. … “Watch out!” … CRUNCH! … The last thing I remember before darkness took me was the image of Zeke lunging toward me. It was seared into my memory because I had never, ever seen such a vivid, terrified expression on his face. So much so that when I awoke at that fateful meeting at age 24, my first instinct was to ask him: Why? When death was upon us, why did you throw yourself in front of me? 03 But Zeke moved faster than my thoughts could form. He shot to his feet, interrupting his mother’s carefully prepared introduction. His deep-set eyes found mine across the table. “I’m sorry, Miss Astor, but I have a girlfriend. We’re done here.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving both our families sitting in stunned, humiliated silence. I knew, in that instant. He was back, too. Fate was truly kind to him. Handsome, wealthy. And now, a second chance at life. I laughed at myself, at my own foolish sentimentality. And I laughed because, thanks to him, I was 24 again. Just before he reached the door, I called out to him. “Then, Mr. Crawford, I suppose this is goodbye for good.” He paused for a beat, but didn’t look back. He just walked out. This time, he would go find his one true love. And I… I would finally live for myself—wildly, passionately, and freely. No longer would I be the one to trade my ambitions for an apron. No longer the dutiful wife of Mr. So-and-so. And never again would I be a beautiful, docile accessory on a man’s arm. 04 With my life reset, my days became a whirlwind of fulfilling activity. I was busy prepping my application for Oxford, busy launching my own artisanal coffee shop. Busy raising a dog and taking my cat for walks. Freed from the rush to marry, I discovered the vast, liberating world outside the gilded cage. In that first year, Zeke and I never crossed paths. I didn’t seek out news of him, but our world was small. The same people, the same stories, always circling back. I heard he followed Gwen to the States. I heard his father, the patriarch of the Crawford family, was furious and stripped him of all his positions at the family corporation. I heard he returned with Gwen and started his own investment firm. And I heard he was planning a grand proposal. Good for him. The difference between being loved and not being loved was starkly, painfully obvious. 05 Gwen had been coming to my coffee shop for several days in a row. Each time, she would order a single cup and sit for hours at a corner table by the window. I could occasionally feel her gaze on me, sizing me up. But the 24-year-old Ariadne Astor had no reason to know a Gwen. If she wasn’t going to make the first move, I wasn’t going to acknowledge her. She was, after all, paying customer. On the fifth day, during a quiet afternoon, she finally approached the counter. She tapped her manicured nails on the polished wood. “Miss Astor. We need to talk.” The last person who spoke to me with that tone was my boss during my internship. She certainly had my attention. I raised an eyebrow, but my hands didn’t stop polishing a glass. “Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.” A few minutes later, I brought a freshly brewed coffee over to her table. “Try this. It’s a unique blend, not on the menu. You might like it.” She looked surprised. “You know who I am?” Of course I did. In our previous life, I had probably spent more time secretly looking at the photograph of her tucked away in Zeke’s books than he ever did. I knew about the tiny, almost invisible mole above her left eyebrow. I nodded and pointed to my own eyes. “You’ve been sitting in that exact spot for five days.” She gave a tight smile, taking a sip of the coffee to hide her awkwardness. Her brow furrowed, and she quickly put the cup down. It was probably too bitter for her. She dispensed with the pleasantries. Reaching into her designer bag, she pulled out a checkbook, wrote out a blank check, and slid it across the table. “Name your price, Miss Astor. To stay away from Zeke.” I was speechless. Her methods were surprisingly similar to Zeke’s. I picked up the check with both hands, studying it with mock seriousness. Since she was offering, it would be rude to refuse. Now, what number to write… I picked up the pen and scribbled a string of digits, then pushed it back to her. It wasn’t that much. Zeke would just have to work a little harder. As I recalled, in about five years, he should be able to afford it. In twenty years, he could probably multiply it by a hundred. 06 Her face darkened as she read the number on the check. “Miss Astor, your appetite is a little… excessive, don’t you think?” I feigned innocence. “Is it? I thought it was rather reasonable.” “A hundred million dollars! You have some nerve!” She was so easily shocked. “I’d have the nerve to ask for a billion, too.” My gaze rested on her beautiful, delicate face. She was undeniably stunning, with an air of defiant confidence. I picked up my own cup and took a slow, appreciative sip. She had no idea what she was missing. I rarely brought out beans of this quality. Not because they were expensive, but because the yield was incredibly low. In my last life, Zeke had been a coffee aficionado with a ridiculously picky palate. Nothing bought from a store ever met his standards. I spent years studying his preferences, experimenting with hundreds of beans from different origins, and adjusting the roasting methods countless times. Finally, one day, I earned a single nod of approval from him. For the next twenty years, brewing his coffee became my daily ritual. Thinking of the past left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had no energy to play games with the woman in front of me anymore. “You should go,” I said flatly. “I have nothing to do with Zeke Crawford. We had one disastrous arranged meeting where he made it clear he wasn’t interested in me.” Her composure cracked. “Don’t play dumb with me, Miss Astor!” she snapped. “If there’s nothing between you, then why does he call out your name when he’s drunk?” “I don’t know when you two got involved, but I suggest you show some self-respect. Zeke and I have been together for four years. We are getting married.” I… I must have owed Zeke a cosmic debt. A lifetime of servitude clearly wasn’t enough; he had to come back and ruin this one, too. 07 Zeke arrived just as Gwen and I were locked in a standoff. “Miss Astor, the coffee here is terrible. I’m surprised you’re still in business.” I leaned back, a lazy smile on my face, and spread my hands. “If you cash that check you wrote me, I won’t have to worry about being in business at all.” My casual amusement must have provoked her. In a dramatic gesture, she snatched her coffee cup and flung its contents at me. I narrowed my eyes, bracing for impact. I really shouldn’t have given her so much face. But the scalding liquid never hit me. Zeke appeared out of nowhere, throwing himself in front of me, taking the full force of the splash. The hot, dark coffee streamed down his hair and dripped from the lapels of his expensive suit. In this life and the last, it was the first time I had ever seen him look so utterly disheveled. But I felt no gratitude. This whole mess was his fault to begin with. If he hadn’t intervened, my vengeful nature would have ensured I returned the favor tenfold. Gwen was even more shocked than I was. The moment Zeke appeared, she shot up from her seat. “Zeke, what are you doing?” she shrieked. “Why would you block that for her? Are you insane?” “What is going on between you two?” She crossed her arms, ignoring the mess dripping all over him, her furious gaze darting between us, searching for any sign of collusion. See? Zeke always had a way of driving the women around him mad. It used to be me. Now it was her. Only this time, it had nothing to do with me. The person who needed to explain and clarify was not me. I pushed my chair back with a look of distaste and took several steps away. I had someone bring Zeke a clean towel and then prepared to leave. I had been given a second chance, and I had no intention of getting entangled in their drama again. “Ariadne, don’t you dare leave! You explain yourself!” Gwen yelled, losing her composure as I started to walk away. My face went cold, and I shot her a look as sharp as a blade. “Have I been too polite to you? So much so that you’ve forgotten your place? Your man’s issues are none of my business.” My voice dropped. “You should be grateful that coffee didn’t touch me.” … “Enough!” Zeke’s sharp reprimand cut through the tension. He pressed his fingers to his temple. It was an old habit, a stress-induced migraine that flared up when he was overworked or agitated. In our last life, I had spent years seeking out specialists and even learned therapeutic massage techniques from a master practitioner just to help him find relief. He seemed to remember it, too. His eyes met mine for a fleeting second before he quickly looked away. I guessed he felt a pang of guilt. “Ariadne, I’m sorry. Could you please give us a moment?” He then gestured to the empty cup on the table. “And could you bring another coffee, the same as this one?” I gave him a withering look. “Sorry, that blend isn’t on the menu.” And sorry, I’m not serving you. If you think you’re drinking coffee made by my hands in this lifetime, you can dream on. 08 Gwen wanted to continue the argument, but Zeke took her by the hand and gently pushed her back into the booth. I had to admire his patience, sitting there covered in coffee stains while he calmed her down. A part of me laughed bitterly at the woman I used to be. I don’t know what he said to her, but after shooting me a few more dirty looks, she grabbed her bag and stormed out. I idly flicked the paw of the little lucky cat figurine on the counter. Zeke came over to pay. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I never expected she would find you here. She’s still young, a bit impulsive… don’t take it to heart.” I paused, momentarily confused by his words. When I understood, I was almost speechless. I shrugged nonchalantly. “If you can get her to cash that check, I won’t mind at all.” He stood across from me, his posture impeccable, his lips pressed into a thin line. The aura of authority he commanded seemed at odds with his youthful, 24-year-old face. Just when I thought the conversation was over, he let out an almost imperceptible sigh. “Ariadne, if you ever need help, I can…” “I don’t.” I cut him off, my patience wearing thin. “Your girlfriend is waiting outside. I suggest you handle this. I don’t want to see either of you in my shop again.” For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. I must have been mistaken. He was always invincible. No one could hurt him, least of all me—someone he never cared about. “Alright,” he finally said, and with a steady gait, he left. 09 After months of focused effort, my IELTS results came back. A score of 8. I submitted my application to the University of Oxford. In my last life, I had walked into the gilded cage of marriage at a young age. Zeke said he wanted a supportive wife, so I dutifully turned down every job offer, dedicating myself entirely to managing his life. To me, building a strong marriage and a good home was a noble pursuit, just as it had been for my mother. I naturally assumed that even in an arranged marriage, love could grow. Or, more accurately, that I could make him fall in love with me. But I forgot that a canary, no matter how prized, is destined to live in a cage, admired at the owner’s whim. Fed when he’s pleased, ignored when he’s not. It has no other value, no chance to fly free. When my parents learned of my plans, they were surprised by my transformation, but since it was a positive change, they were supportive. My brother was handling the family business, so they didn’t need me. As for the marriage alliance, a delay of a few years wasn’t a problem. Perhaps with a degree from Oxford, I could secure an even better match. My family loved me. But their love always came with a price tag attached. I wasn’t sad about it. I had, after all, enjoyed the luxurious life they provided. While waiting for a response from the university, I poured all my energy into the coffee shop. This little place wasn’t worth much in their eyes, but to me, it was a testament to my own value.

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Five years after I left, I ran into Jared Martin outside a divorce mediation office. He was still strikingly handsome, but now carried the unmistakable air of a man in power. The moment he saw me, the cool composure he’d worn just seconds before vanished. He didn’t even notice the coffee sloshing onto his prosecutor’s uniform as he lunged forward and grabbed my hand. “Anika. It’s been a long time.” He paused, his gaze shifting to the man who was drunkenly shouting inside the mediation room behind me. “You’ve been with a man like this all these years? Did he lay a hand on you? Don’t worry, I’ll help you with the divorce—” I cut him off, politely extricating my hand. “I’m sorry, Prosecutor Martin, but your position gives you no right to interfere in my affairs.” Besides, the man in that room was just my cousin’s ex-husband. He seemed to sigh, a wave of resignation washing over his features. “Anika, after all this time, you still hate me.” I smiled but said nothing. I didn’t have that much time to waste on hating him. I had let go long ago. … I had certainly hated Jared Martin. The second year of our marriage was the year my hatred for him was at its peak. The day I found out I was pregnant was also his birthday. I did two things. First, I went to the hospital and had the pregnancy terminated. Second, I had the unformed embryo preserved as a specimen and gave it to him as a birthday present. Watching the blood drain from his face as he opened the box, I smiled. “Happy birthday. Do you like your gift?” For the first time, I saw the mask of calm self-control he always wore begin to crumble. Jared carefully set the box aside, and before I could react, he slammed me down onto the dining table. My body sank into the birthday cake, the sickly sweet frosting smearing all over me. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing ragged. “Anika, that was your child too! Do you hate me so much because of what happened?” My breath hitched, but I pushed down the stabbing pain in my chest and laughed. “Yes, Jared. I hate you. You destroyed my family. Why should you get to be happy when my life is in ruins?” But it hadn’t always been like this between us. We’d had our happy times. We were once seen as the golden couple, a match made in heaven. Jared was an orphan my family had sponsored. We grew up together. In my memory, we were never apart for more than a month. He was cold and distant to everyone but me. If I casually mentioned my feet were tired, he’d crouch down without a word of complaint and carry me home on his back. When I got my period and stained my clothes, he would quietly wash them for me, his face a stoic mask. He once ditched a major academic competition just to be with me at the hospital when I was sick. Falling in love with Jared felt as inevitable as breathing. Later, he achieved his dream of becoming a prosecutor. The first thing he did with his first paycheck was buy lavish gifts for my family. He held my hand and knelt before my parents, vowing, “I swear I will spend my life protecting this family, and protecting Anika.” But on our wedding night, his intern, Serena Walsh, tearfully accused my father of rape. Jared promised me he would prove my father’s innocence. I believed him. But at the trial, he was the one who submitted the security footage of my father helping a drunk Serena into a hotel room. My father was sentenced to five years. Our family home was seized. My mother died of a broken heart. I ran through the pouring rain to find Jared, only to see Serena sitting in our living room, wearing my pajamas. He, a man who never cooked, was walking out of the kitchen with a plate of food. A chill cut through me, colder than the rain. I smashed everything I could get my hands on. He just watched me, his voice devoid of emotion. “The verdict reflects justice. The law does not deceive anyone. Serena has developed severe psychological trauma because of your father. This is what your family owes her. As your husband, I have a responsibility to her.” From then on, “responsibility” became his excuse. If Serena whispered, “Jared, I’m scared,” he would leave me, even if I was running a fever. If she said, “Jared, I want you to stay with me,” he would cancel our anniversary dinner. I tried to find a lawyer to appeal my father’s case, but Jared’s influence in the legal community was too great. No one dared to take it. Over two years, the love I had left was ground into hatred by his daily betrayals. We went from a loving couple to two people who couldn’t stand the sight of each other. Another second in the same room felt like suffocation. The memories, a tangled web of pain, resurfaced. I lunged at Jared, sinking my teeth into his neck. He shoved me away. His phone rang. Seeing the name on the screen, a rare softness flickered in his eyes. “What is it, Serena?” His voice was so gentle it could have been liquid honey. Serena’s trembling sobs came through the phone. “Jared, I had the nightmare again… about being assaulted. I’m so scared.” Jared’s eyes flickered to me, a moment’s hesitation, and then he grabbed his coat. “I’m on my way.” The door slammed shut, leaving me crumpled on the floor like a discarded rag. Only when the echo of the door faded did I allow myself to break. Tears streamed down my face. I told myself this was the last time I would ever cry for him. From this day forward, he would never stir another ripple in my heart. I opened a text from Rich Gad. My fingers trembled as I typed: “I’ll do it. I’ll crash your wedding in fifteen days. The condition is you get my father out of prison.” The moment the message sent, the “typing…” indicator appeared at the top of the screen, as if Rich had been waiting on the other end for my reply. His message came through instantly: 【As you wish. I’ll be waiting for you on the Amalfi Coast. Don’t disappoint me.】 I woke to a gray, overcast sky. Today was the anniversary of my mother’s death. The cemetery was shrouded in a damp, clinging chill. I placed a bouquet of white lilies on her grave, her favorite flower. I knelt, my fingers gently tracing the warm, kind face in the photograph on her headstone. “Mom, I’m here to see you.” “Don’t worry. I’m doing well… really.” “I will get to the bottom of Dad’s case. I’ll get him out, and he will walk free with his head held high. Everyone who owes our family a debt will pay. I won’t let a single one of them go.” “Just watch me, from up there.” After leaving the cemetery, I slowly walked towards the place I once called home. A notification popped up on my phone—Serena’s new social media post. It was a picture of Jared’s focused profile, the caption reading: “First time prepping for a trial. So lucky to have Jared patiently guiding me. He says the law protects justice, and he is my justice and my faith.” There was a time when that kind of devotion was mine alone. I curled my lip into a sneer, took a screenshot, and sent it to a group chat with three words: 【Perfect match.】 A sick sense of satisfaction bloomed in my chest at the thought of the storm I was about to unleash. When I opened the front door, Serena was nestled against Jared’s side, her eyes red and swollen. She shrank behind him when she saw me. Jared patted her back, his eyes full of disappointment as he looked at me. “That’s enough, Anika. Serena is innocent.” “Innocent? Jared, there’s a limit to being blind and deaf,” I said coldly. He shot to his feet. “I don’t want to fight with you. Serena has a therapy appointment. You’re not stable either. You’re going with her.” “Are you insane, or am I?” The absurdity of it was staggering. “This isn’t a request.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the counseling center. The moment the door to the consultation room closed, Serena’s face changed. A triumphant smirk played on her lips. “Doesn’t feel good, does it? Nothing ever happened with your father. I stole the ‘evidence.’ I forged everything. I just wanted to see your perfect little family destroyed. I couldn’t stand the sight of you looking down on everyone!” The dam of my hatred burst. I swung my hand and slapped her, hard. CRACK. The door was thrown open. Jared stood there, his face a thunderous mask. Serena immediately grabbed his arm, crying, “Jared, I was just trying to make peace with her! I don’t know why she hit me!” “Jared, did you hear her? She admitted it! She admitted to framing my father!” My voice trembled with rage. His brow furrowed deeper, his voice turning to ice. “Enough. The evidence was conclusive. How long are you going to keep deceiving yourself? It’s time to accept that your father is a rapist.” His words pierced through my last defense. “Is that what you’ve thought all along?” He looked away, his voice low and firm as he spoke to the doctor outside the door. “She’s extremely unstable, exhibiting aggressive and delusional behavior. She needs immediate intervention.” Serena chimed in at the perfect moment. “Jared, Professor Miller on the third floor is the best for this.” Jared nodded. I was dragged upstairs against my will, only to realize that the “third floor” wasn’t a consultation room. It was a treatment room, filled with cold, sterile equipment. Orderlies strapped me into a metal chair, binding my hands and feet with leather restraints. Serena picked up an electrode. A powerful electric current shot through my body. “Remember,” she hissed, “your father is a rapist.” “He’s not!” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. She increased the voltage. Again and again. I don’t know how many times I was shocked. My consciousness drifted in and out of the searing pain. “Just say ‘he is,’ and I’ll make them stop,” Serena cooed. I struggled to lift my head. “Come closer,” I rasped. “I’ll say it.” The moment she leaned in, I kicked out with all my remaining strength, slamming my foot into her stomach. As she screamed and crumpled to the floor, I managed to free one hand and undo the restraints. I scrambled for the door, but the handle wouldn’t turn. “Get her!” Serena shrieked. Just as they were about to grab me again, I turned and charged at her, wrapping my arms around her and slamming us both into the plate-glass window. “I always repay my debts, Serena!” The glass shattered. We fell, tangled together, from the third floor. I woke up in a hospital.

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1 The night the Stone family finally acknowledged me as their own, a thunderstorm was raging. I was, after all, the nation’s lead forensic pathologist. I stepped into the grand foyer, my silver examination case in hand. The heavy, cloying stench of death that clung to my clothes instantly suffocated the delicate, expensive fragrance that filled the mansion. My adopted sister, Isabelle, pressed a hand to her nose, a flash of disgust in her eyes. She quickly masked it with a look of feigned concern, reaching for my case. “Ava, you must be exhausted coming home so late. That case looks heavy, let me help you.” With a practiced clumsiness, she let the case slip from her grasp. It crashed onto the marble floor with a sickening clang. CLANG! The latch sprang open. A slick, rubbery length of intestine, bleached pale by formalin, slithered out and came to rest on her delicate designer heel. The air went dead silent. I impassively pulled on a pair of latex gloves. 【Oops. Such clumsy hands. That was a fresh sample from a bloater, you know. I was hoping to reconstruct the full set.】 【But since you’re so curious, little sister, I don’t mind giving you a live demonstration of how to stuff this back where it belongs.】 【Or… maybe I could borrow your stomach for a little practice? Your heart’s already black, so it wouldn’t hurt to crack you open and take a look, would it?】 “Urgh—!” My older brother, Liam, a surgeon, caught a clear view of the coiled mass. His face turned a pasty white as he clutched his stomach and bolted for the nearest bathroom. Arthur Stone, my stern and imposing father, went wide-eyed. The string of prayer beads in his hand snapped, scattering across the floor as he crumpled in a dead faint. The entire family, who had gathered to put me in my place, now lay in a neat, unconscious row on the floor. 2 My mother, Eleanor, came to with a gasp after a maid pinched the skin above her lip. The moment she saw me, she began to tremble uncontrollably. Liam, my brother, had to brace himself against the wall to keep from collapsing again. Isabelle, ever the graceful actress, glided toward me, reaching out to take my hand. I sidestepped her touch. She retracted her hand awkwardly, her face still a perfect mask of gentle vulnerability. “I’ve already prepared a room for you, Ava. Please, come see if you like it.” I followed her down the hall. The room she showed me was a confection of pink frills and girlish decor, right next to her own. The air was thick with a sickly-sweet perfume. I wrinkled my nose. “I won’t be staying here. This style isn’t for me.” Liam looked ready to scold me for being ungrateful, but then he heard my thoughts. 【What a mess. Blood spatter would be a nightmare to clean off these pink walls.】 【I need something more secluded. The utility closet downstairs looked promising. No windows, far from their rooms. Perfect for late-night dissections without being disturbed.】 The blood drained from my brother’s face, leaving it a ghastly white. My father, Arthur, spoke with a noticeable tremor. “Then… you can take the utility closet for now. I’ll have the staff clear it out for you…” I cut him off. “Don’t bother. I’ll handle it myself. Just have a shower stall installed for me.” 【And make sure the drainage is industrial-grade. It’ll make disposing of tissue fragments much easier. Wouldn’t want to clog the plumbing.】 I saw my father’s vision swim. He swayed on his feet but managed a weak, terrified nod. Isabelle, oblivious to the undercurrent of horror, had a flicker of triumph in her eyes. She assumed I had angered our father and was being punished with the junk-filled closet. I ignored them all. I walked to the closet at the end of the ground-floor hall and pushed open the door. A wave of musty air hit me. I knocked on the thick concrete walls, satisfied. 【Good soundproofing, too. The sound of a bone saw at night probably won’t even wake them.】 Outside the door, my mother, who had just been helped to her feet by Liam, heard that last thought. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed again in a neat pile. Dinner was as silent as a morgue. The long dining table was laden with an exquisite spread, but no one dared touch their food. The family sat stiffly, their posture rigid with fear. A news report was playing on the television in the corner. “…police today discovered a dismembered male body in the outskirts of the city. The brutality of the crime is shocking, and authorities are pursuing all leads…” The body on screen was heavily censored, but the scattered, blocky shapes were still disturbing. Isabelle covered her eyes with a delicate hand, leaning weakly against my mother. “How awful. The world is full of such cruel people.” I stared at the screen, my brow furrowed. 【Huh? Isn’t that the case I worked on a few weeks ago? They’re only releasing the news now?】 【The department’s getting slow. Their press releases are always late.】 【That guy had a rough end, though. Dismembered piece by piece while still alive. They even injected him with a neurostimulant to keep him fully conscious, forced to watch himself being taken apart.】 Liam, being a doctor, immediately visualized the scene I described. A wave of nausea washed over him. He couldn’t hold it back; his face went pale and he scrambled from the table, rushing to the bathroom to be sick. The commotion startled my mother, whose head lolled to one side as she fainted for what felt like the tenth time. Chaos erupted. Only Isabelle remained, looking baffled. She couldn’t understand why her family had suddenly become so squeamish. My father, Arthur, tried to maintain his composure. His hand trembled as he reached for a glass of water. Just then, a loud, piercing siren blared through the silent dining room. WEE-WOO-WEE-WOO! The entire family, including Liam who had just staggered back from the bathroom, jumped out of their skins. Unfazed, I pulled my phone from my pocket. “It’s for me,” I explained flatly. A tidal wave of horror washed over my father’s face. He thought my audacity knew no bounds—that I was using a police siren as a ringtone while committing such atrocities. A blatant mockery of the law! I was oblivious to his internal drama as I answered the call. “What’s up?” “Yeah, another one?” I listened, a slight frown forming. “Blunt force trauma to the skull this time? Okay, I’m on my way. Keep the scene secure.” I hung up, wiped my mouth with a napkin, and stood to leave. “Stop!” My father slammed his hand on the table, jolting to his feet. “Ava Stone! Where do you think you’re going at this hour?” His veins bulged on his forehead. “I’ll give you money! Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you! Just… just stop doing this!” 【Money?】 【Does he think this is about money? The department called. If I don’t take the case, someone else will get the credit.】 Hearing this, the anger on my father’s face froze, replaced by a deeper, more profound despair. He exchanged a look with Liam. All color had drained from their faces. “She… she has a team…” Liam muttered, horrified. My father collapsed back into his chair, utterly defeated. I, meanwhile, just thought they were being bizarre as I turned and walked out the door. This case was a tricky one. Two victims. One had fallen from a height, crashed through a glass ceiling, and then fallen again. The other was a bloater, pulled from a lake after being submerged for weeks, a grotesque caricature of a human being. By the time I finished processing both scenes, it was past midnight. The storm had returned, and fat raindrops hammered against my car’s windshield. I drove back to the Stone estate, my body heavy with exhaustion. The lights in the living room were still blazing. As I pushed the door open, the sterile scent of formalin and the faint, underlying odor of decay overwhelmed the house’s expensive potpourri once more. The Stones were sitting on the sofa, a grim welcoming committee. Isabelle shot to her feet, her nose wrinkled in theatrical disgust. A moment later, it was replaced by a mask of worry as she hurried towards me. “Ava, you’re back so late! What is that smell on you?” Before I could answer, she lunged for the evidence case in my hand. “Let me get that for you, you look exhausted.” She was fast, and she caught me off guard, snatching the case. Then, with a “stumble” that was anything but accidental, she cried out. “Ah!” CRASH! The metal case hit the polished marble floor. The latch popped. Several specimen jars containing organs bleached white by formalin rolled out. A length of intestine, still bearing traces of its former contents, landed with a wet slap on the plush rug. “Ava, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Her words died in her throat the moment she saw what was on the floor. Her pretty face went sheet-white. A wave of sickness overcame her, and she doubled over, vomiting right there. 【You wanted to play games. You just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.】 【There you go. I didn’t want to expose my work, but you forced my hand.】 【Since you love it so much, take a good long look.】 【Now… what am I going to do with all of you?】 I pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves and calmly bent down, picking up the slick, wet organ from the floor. Then, I rose and walked over to where Isabelle was heaving, holding the intestine right in front of her face. “You wanted a closer look, didn’t you?” She looked up in terror, her eyes meeting mine before flicking down to the object inches from her nose. Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted. 【So fragile. You shouldn’t start fights you can’t finish. You brought this on yourself.】 I stood, the intestine still in my hand, and slowly turned. BOOM! A bolt of lightning tore across the sky, and the grand chandelier above us flickered violently. In the strobing light, my parents and brother saw a terrifying tableau: me, standing over Isabelle’s unconscious body, holding a piece of a human corpse. The effect was cinematic. The three of them didn’t even have time to scream. Their eyes glazed over in unison, and they fainted, joining Isabelle on the floor. The living room was littered with the bodies of my family. I shook my head. “Well,” I said to the empty room, “a family should always stick together.” With a sigh, I went to work. First, I meticulously cleaned the floor and packed my “treasures” back into their case. Then, one by one, I dragged my family members back to their respective rooms and arranged them neatly on their beds. Only after all that was done did I retreat to my utility closet for a well-deserved sleep. Things were quiet for a few days after that. With no new cases, I was happy to stay in my new “lab,” organizing my tools and files. My family, on the other hand, was walking on eggshells. They scurried away like mice whenever they saw me. Liam even took a leave of absence from the hospital, locking himself in his room all day. This strange truce lasted until my birthday. Seeing that I had remained “well-behaved” for several days and hadn’t actually dissected any of them, Arthur began to relax. He decided to throw a lavish birthday party to officially introduce me, the true heiress, to his business partners and high-society friends. He tasked Isabelle with helping me get a dress. But Isabelle, traumatized and resentful after that night, saw an opportunity. She wanted to humiliate me. She never told me about the party or the dress. On the day of the banquet, I came home straight from the lab. Before I could even change out of my scrubs, a maid was rushing me toward the ballroom. My clothes carried the faint, unmistakable odor of the morgue—a smell I was so used to, I no longer noticed it. The moment I pushed open the ballroom doors, the chatter died. Every head turned. All eyes were on me. A few of the society wives standing near the entrance instinctively took a step back, fanning their noses dramatically. The whispers started immediately. “Is that the long-lost Stone daughter? Why is she dressed like that? She looks like she crawled out of a gutter.” “It’s not just how she looks, can you smell that? It’s some kind of chemical… utterly foul.” Isabelle rushed to my side, her face a mask of false sympathy. “Ava, why are you wearing your work clothes? Father told you to dress up!” she hissed, feigning panic. “Oh my goodness, did I forget to show you where the dressing room is? I have so many new gowns, you should have just asked me!” Just then, a booming, mocking voice cut through the murmurs. It was my father’s biggest business rival, the head of Russo Corp. He sauntered over, a champagne flute in his hand and a sneer on his face. “Well, well, Arthur,” he bellowed, pointing at me. “Did you dig this one out of a cemetery? She gives me the creeps!” My father’s face went rigid with fury. I lifted my head and stared coldly at the obnoxious Mr. Russo. 【This man… isn’t he Vincent Russo?】 【My contact at the Bureau told me to keep an eye on him. I wasn’t even looking for him, and he just serves himself up on a platter.】 【He won’t be running his mouth for much longer. Arrogant, even with one foot in the grave. I don’t mind working a little overtime to give him the final push.】 The moment that thought crossed my mind, it happened. “Aaargh—!” Mr. Russo clutched his head and let out a blood-curdling scream. His eyes bulged, and he fell backward like a felled tree. THUD! His heavy body hit the floor, and blood began to trickle from his nose and mouth. The entire ballroom was plunged into a dead, horrified silence. Everyone stared at me as if I were a witch who had just cast a deadly curse. My father pointed a trembling finger at me, his lips quivering, unable to form words. “…Was that… did you…?” I looked down at the twitching form of Mr. Russo and allowed a small, cold smile to touch my lips. 【Looks like I’ve got a new case.】 【All that arrogance, and he still ended up on my table. Metaphorically, for now.】

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As I was about to walk down the aisle, a waitress deliberately blocked my path, ignoring the frantic whispers of the staff. I demanded she move, but she just sneered at me. It was only when she saw my fiancé approaching that her expression changed, and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing. He didn’t even let me explain, just accused me of throwing a tantrum. I was so furious, I called off the wedding on the spot. The waitress then declared I wasn’t good enough for him and proposed to him herself. So the wedding went on. Just with a different bride. The next day, she sent me photos of their marriage certificate, a diamond ring, and a luxury condo, mocking me for not being destined for a life of wealth. It was only when I showed up with my security team to evict them that the little gold-digger finally understood. I was the wealthy one. 1 My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at the grand double doors. The moment they opened, my five-year relationship with Leo would culminate in marriage. I would be his wife. A staff member adjusted the massive train of my gown while speaking into her headset. “Bride is ready for entrance. Repeat, bride is on her way. Clear the aisle of all personnel. We cannot ruin this moment!” But just as the doors cracked open, a waitress appeared from nowhere, planting herself directly in front of me. The coordinator let out a sharp gasp. “Move! Get out of the way!” The waitress acted as if she hadn’t heard. She calmly smoothed the front of her uniform, waiting for the doors to swing wide open, clearly determined to walk down the aisle before me. I had spent nearly a year planning this wedding, pouring countless resources—financial, physical, and emotional—into making it perfect. And now, in an instant, that perfection was shattered. The coordinator made a split-second decision and slammed the doors shut. “Hold for one minute! Clear the entrance, now!” she barked into her headset. She then grabbed the waitress’s arm, her voice tight with anger. “Can’t you see the bride is about to enter? Are you the bride? What are you doing? Move it!” But the waitress seemed to have an even bigger attitude. She wrenched her arm free. “What’s the problem? I’m a waitress. I’m going inside to serve the guests. Is there an issue with that?” I tried to keep my composure and let the staff handle it, but it was obvious this woman wasn’t going to be reasonable. “This is a wedding ceremony,” I said, my voice cold. “Do you normally make a habit of upstaging the bride?” She whipped her head around and gave me an exaggerated eye-roll. “You really think marrying Prince Charming makes you a princess? Does the whole world have to become invisible just because you’re getting married?” 2 It was only then that I recognized her face. It was Jasmine, a hostess who had served us once before. She was in uniform, but hers was clearly a size too small, accentuating her figure. She was naturally beautiful, but today she’d gone all out with professional makeup and an elaborate hairstyle. She was undeniably stunning. A hot wave of anger washed over me. I couldn’t believe she had the nerve to show up here. She was like a bad smell that wouldn’t go away. For some reason, this woman had always had a problem with me. The first time we met, her words dripped with backhanded compliments for Leo and subtle digs at me. She seemed to relish praising him effusively while putting me down, especially whenever I got even slightly annoyed with him. “Ms. Vance, how can you speak to Mr. Peterson like that? He’s so good to you, he cancelled meetings just to be here. Not many men would do that.” “Mr. Peterson, you’re the perfect man. If I had a husband as wonderful as you, I would never take him for granted.” “You know, Ms. Vance, a woman can’t be too demanding. Men need to be coaxed.” “Mr. Peterson, you’re far too patient with her.” I had lost my temper right then and there. It took several hotel managers bringing Jasmine to me to offer a bowing, scraping apology—and firing her on the spot—for me to let it go. Even so, I had switched venues for the wedding. Leo thought I was overreacting, that I was being paranoid. But I was a woman. I knew how to read between the lines. It was painfully obvious that Jasmine had a thing for him. 3 Remembering all this, a cold smile touched my lips. “What, are you trying to lose this job too?” Jasmine ripped her name tag from her chest and shrugged off her uniform blazer, leaving her in just a crisp white shirt. “Don’t think you scare me. I quit. I’ve seen plenty of women like you working here—you think just because you’re pretty and you snagged a rich husband, you’re royalty.” “I’ll tell you what,” she sneered, “I came here today specifically to ruin your day. I’m going to walk into that hall with you and show Leo he chose the wrong woman. Even in a waitress’s uniform, I’m still more beautiful than you.” I almost laughed in her face. “‘Leo’? How sweet. Do you know what you’re doing? It’s called home-wrecking. You’re the other woman. Aren’t you afraid of what your friends and family would think?” She was unfazed. A triumphant smirk spread across her face. “Don’t think I don’t know. You and Leo aren’t even legally married yet. You think it’s so easy to marry into a wealthy family? It’s complicated.” “And please,” she scoffed, “getting married on the thirteenth? How cliché. You’re practically begging for bad luck. I’m not blocking your way, I’m saving you from a lifetime of misery!” She stood her ground, refusing to move, a stream of insults pouring from her mouth. Despite my upbringing, my face darkened with rage. The wedding staff, who had never encountered anything like this, quickly called for backup. A few other servers rushed over and tried to pull Jasmine away. In the struggle, a button on her too-tight shirt popped open under the strain. Everyone froze, afraid to touch her. But Jasmine’s expression suddenly changed. She lurched toward a nearby window. “I might as well be dead!” 4 In that split second, Leo appeared as if out of thin air. He caught Jasmine in his arms, stopping her “attempt” to “jump” from the second-floor window. Seeing her disheveled state, he quickly took off his own tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her. Jasmine collapsed against him, sobbing as if her heart was broken, unable to form a coherent sentence. Leo just held her, murmuring soothing words and patting her back. I exchanged a look with the wedding planner. Wasn’t Leo supposed to be at the altar? How did he get here so fast? The planner subtly gestured toward a small service door behind me. Of course. He must have gotten worried when I didn’t appear and came to check, and Jasmine, seeing her chance, launched into her dramatic performance. I cleared my throat loudly. The sound jolted Leo, and he realized how inappropriate this looked. He started to push Jasmine away, but she clung to his shirt, refusing to let go. My patience had worn thin. “Leo,” I snapped, “are you planning on holding her all day? Or has the damsel in distress made you forget who you are?” The scene was damning. The two of them, clothes in disarray, clinging to each other. It looked for all the world like I’d just caught them in the act. Leo finally managed to detach himself and shuffled over to me, head bowed. As furious as I was, we had five years of history. He had always been utterly devoted to me. I wasn’t going to throw it all away over this. But seeing him return to my side, Jasmine took her act to the next level. She rushed forward and dropped to her knees in front of me. “Ms. Vance, I know I have a sharp tongue and I offended you before. But I wasn’t born with your luck. I don’t have a wonderful man to take care of me. I have to work. I swear, I had no idea you were having your wedding here today! Please, forgive me! Don’t humiliate me and make me lose another job!” 5 Then she turned, still on her knees, and tugged at Leo’s trouser leg. “Leo, please, ask her to forgive me. You know how women listen to the men they love.” Leo stammered, “Clara… let it go. The wedding is waiting. Please, don’t act like a spoiled princess.” If I wasn’t wearing a thousand-pound wedding dress, I would have kicked him into next week. “Are you blind?” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Can’t you see she’s playing you? The entire hotel is plastered with our photos, and she claims she didn’t know it was our wedding? She deliberately blocked my path and told me getting married today was a death sentence. And when we tried to move her, she threw herself at a window!” Before Leo could answer, Jasmine tossed her perfectly disheveled hair, her voice dripping with saccharine innocence. “Ms. Vance, you can insult me, but don’t lie about me. I was just passing by, and I apologized. But you wouldn’t let it go. You had your people try to rip my clothes off to shame me! And now you’re twisting the truth in front of Leo!” She turned her tear-filled eyes to him. “But Leo is a good man. He won’t be fooled by you. You’re just angry because you think I like him, and you feel threatened.” “But love isn’t a crime!” she declared. “It’s true, I care for Leo. But I haven’t done anything wrong! We’ve only seen a few movies, had a few dinners together! Are you going to ruin my life just because we’re friends?” Men. Their egos are so fragile. Leo wasn’t embarrassed by this spectacle; he was flattered. He saw it as two women fighting over him, a massive boost to his vanity. After Jasmine’s passionate confession, he rushed to help her up. The moment his hands touched her, she let out a soft whimper and fell back into his arms. 6 That was the last straw. I took the bouquet in my hands—the one that cost over ten thousand dollars—and hurled it straight at Leo’s face. “Are you insane, Leo? I’ve been ignoring your little ‘friendship’ with her for the last six months, and you have the audacity to do this in front of me, on our wedding day?” Jasmine shot me a look of pure triumph, though her voice remained deceptively sweet. “Ms. Vance, when you have a man as perfect as Leo, you should cherish him. The way you treat him… it’s emotional abuse.” Then, to Leo, “Leo, my love, if you let her walk all over you now, she’ll do it for the rest of your life. Don’t you want a wife who is gentle and understanding? Or do you want this… this monster? What kind of life would that be?” “You are a man!” she cried. “A strong, successful man! Why do you let her treat you like this? She has no respect for you, no respect for working people like me. What do you even see in her?” Something in her words struck a nerve. Leo’s face flushed a deep red. His stammer vanished. “Clara Vance! You will apologize to Ms. Thompson right now. You will not bully her, and you will not get her fired.” Jasmine, of course, shook her head demurely. “No, no, that’s not necessary. Someone like me doesn’t deserve an apology from Ms. Vance. As long as you’re happy, Leo, I… I can endure anything. I just hope one day you’ll see her for who she really is.” I let out a cold laugh. “And what if I refuse to apologize? What if I enjoy bullying her?” A flicker of raw excitement crossed Jasmine’s face, as if this was the moment she’d been waiting for. A victorious smile bloomed. “If you don’t apologize, you’ll lose a perfect man like Leo!” Just then, a familiar voice cut in from behind me. “What is all this commotion? Why hasn’t the ceremony started?” 7 “Mom,” Leo said, turning toward the voice with a troubled look. “It’s nothing. Clara just had a little disagreement with one of the waitstaff. It’s almost sorted out. You can go back inside.” But his mother didn’t leave. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at Jasmine. “And who is this?” Jasmine looked at her and adopted her sweetest tone. “Hello, Mrs. Peterson. I’m Jasmine Thompson. Ms. Vance is upset because she thinks something is going on between Leo and me. But no matter what, she shouldn’t be hitting him. Look, she’s bruised his face…” Leo’s mother grunted, her brow furrowed. “Whatever it is, stop this nonsense and get on with it.” She shot me a disdainful look. “Have you no shame?” I’m the one with no shame? Leo heard her and hurried over to me. “Can we please just deal with this after the ceremony?” I pulled my arm away from his touch. “You know, I never realized what a complete fool you are. It’s a good thing we haven’t signed the papers. As of right now, this wedding is off.” Leo froze. “What are you talking about? All our friends and family are here! What am I supposed to do, have a wedding with no bride? I’ll be a laughingstock!” At the mention of cancelling, his mother panicked. “Absolutely not! My son will not be humiliated like this. If you throw a fit now, don’t expect me to ever accept you as my daughter-in-law!” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry. The thought of you accepting me makes my skin crawl.” I gathered the skirt of my dress to leave, but Leo grabbed my arm, his grip desperate. “Don’t go, Clara, please! I was wrong, okay? What do you want me to do, get on my knees?” 8 Jasmine calmly smoothed her hair. “Leo, don’t listen to her,” she said, her voice full of adoration. “She’s just trying to scare you. If she walks away now, she’ll be the one to regret it, not you.” Her words, and her obvious worship, seemed to bolster Leo and his mother. Mrs. Peterson’s tone grew colder, all pretense gone. “That’s right. If you want to leave, then leave. A man like my son can have any woman he wants. I never liked you anyway. My son is the last of his line, and you announced you only wanted one child! What if it’s a girl?” Jasmine seized the opportunity. “Exactly! The government is encouraging big families these days! If I had a man as wonderful as Leo, I’d give him as many children as he wanted.” She looked me up and down with contempt. “And Leo told me you’ve refused to be intimate with him all these years. I bet the only reason you were waiting until marriage is because you were afraid he’d find out you’re not… new. Leo, my love, you are perfect. How could she possibly be worthy of you?” So, they really had been talking. He’d even shared something that private with her. In this twisted moment, surrounded by their accusations and Jasmine’s adoration, he seemed to be convincing himself that maybe I wasn’t good enough for him. The situation was at a stalemate. Then, Jasmine spoke. “Leo, I understand. A man’s pride is the most important thing. If this wedding is missing a bride, you’ll lose face completely. So… Leo… will you let me be your bride?” Leo hesitated. Jasmine immediately dropped to one knee. “Leo, I know I might not be good enough for you, but my feelings are real. I would never disrespect you like she does. With me, you can finally be a real man.”

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The day the students got into a fight was the day I saw Liam again, ten years after he’d shattered my life. The boy who’d thrown the punch was wiping away tears, calling him “Dad.” Liam froze when he saw me, his face a mask of shock. It took him a long moment to remember his manners. “Ms. Rhodes,” he managed, his voice strained. “I’m so sorry for the trouble.” I kept my expression professionally placid, handling the apologies and the matter of compensation with detached efficiency. When everything was settled and the other parent had left, he lingered, hovering at the edge of my desk, words caught in his throat. “I remember you never wanted to be a teacher,” he said, his voice quiet. A faint smile touched my lips as I walked him to the office door. “People change. So do their plans.” Just like my feelings for him. A chapter I’d closed a long, long time ago. 1 The squabble between the children was a flash flood—it came fast, and it was over just as quickly. The two boys were already laughing as they ran out of the office, the other mother trailing behind them. Only Liam remained, standing there, his gaze fixed on me. It wasn’t exactly a burning stare, but it was far from calm. “Have you… have you been okay, all these years?” My smile didn’t waver. It was the same polite, impersonal smile I gave every parent. “The workload is heavy, but thankfully, the students are well-behaved for the most part.” I nodded towards the door. “Mr. Blackwood, you should talk with Leo when you get home. He admitted he was wrong this time, but if he hits another child, the next set of parents might not be so understanding.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He abruptly changed the subject. “I mean, in all this time, have you ever…” “Dad!” A child’s voice echoed from the end of the hall. I instinctively took a step back. “Come on, let’s go home! Mom’s gonna be mad if we’re late!” The rest of his question died on his lips, swallowed back down. My smile remained perfectly in place. “Drive safe, Mr. Blackwood.” By the time I turned back to my desk, he was gone. Lena, the math teacher, bustled in, dropping a stack of papers on her own desk. “Leo Blackwood getting into another fight?” she asked casually. My pen paused over a worksheet. “Another?” “Oh, right, I forgot you just transferred here. You don’t know the legend of Leo. He’s the little hellion of the third-grade class.” She rolled her eyes. “Gets sent to the office almost every week. The weird thing is, he’s always sorry. Cries his eyes out, begs for punishment, says he’ll never do it again. And then, next week, rinse and repeat.” She sighed. “Makes you wonder what’s going on at home.” Frowning, I pulled up Leo Blackwood’s student file. Father: Liam Blackwood. Mother: Phoebe Shaw. “You know Nexus Innovations, the big tech firm downtown? That’s his dad’s company,” Lena chattered on. “And his mom owns that chic art gallery over on fifth. They’re the perfect power couple—a brilliant entrepreneur and a celebrated artist. You’d think they’d produce a prodigy, but instead, they got a little demon spawn.” Lena clicked her tongue and slid a form across my desk. “Oh, by the way, the principal noticed you only listed yourself under family contacts. He said you need to complete it.” I gave a soft “Mm,” my eyes still on the screen. “I grew up in a group home. I don’t have any other family.” “Oh.” Lena’s face fell. “Oh, I’m so sorry… I’ll just… I’ll take this back to him later.” She busied herself with her papers, though I could feel her stealing guilty glances at me. Finally, she mustered the courage to speak again. “It’s okay, Ms. Rhodes. Really. One day you’ll fall in love, get married… you’ll have a family of your own.” She even started showing me pictures of her single friends, offering to set me up. I shook my head, thanking her for her kindness. “I was in love, once. A long time ago. I almost had a family.” “What happened?” I just smiled, saying nothing more. What happened was he built a family with someone else, and I was left alone all over again. Lena’s face soured with disgust. “Let me guess, you ran into a real piece of work. Where’d you find him, in a dumpster? The city sewer?” Her bluntness made me laugh, my gaze drifting back to the file on my screen, to the name under the “Father” category. The sound of children shouting on the playground faded into a distant hum, and suddenly, I was back in my freshman year of high school. The first time I met Liam, it was also because of a fight. I’d punched a classmate for calling me an orphan. He’d beaten up the gym captain for calling him a jinx. Two stubborn kids, refusing to apologize, with no parents to call. We were made to stand together by the flagpole, a public spectacle for the entire school to see. As the principal’s lecture droned on, Liam noticed the cotton stuffed in my nose and the cut on my index finger, still oozing blood from a piece of shattered glass. His dark eyes narrowed. “You lost?” I bit my lip. “I skipped breakfast. Wasn’t at my best. Next time, I’ll make him beg for mercy.” He paused for a beat, then said with an air of casual confidence, “Next time you get into a fight, find me first. I’ll make sure you win.” Lena leaned forward, her hand propping up her chin. “So you fought because of some jerk classmate. Why was he fighting?” I rubbed the faint scar on my index finger, my eyes moving from the word “Father” down to the next of kin listed in his old school files. Grandmother. “His father died when he was young. His grandparents passed away in elementary school, and his mother got sick in middle school. His tuition was paid for by handouts from relatives and neighbors.” “Everyone at school said he was cursed. A jinx.” Lena’s jaw dropped. After a long moment, she let out a heavy sigh. “A pair of lost souls.” I pressed my lips together. The truth was, after we both got into a top university, our pair of lost souls became a trio. My best friend, whom I hadn’t seen in years, ended up at the same school. She came running toward me, giddy with excitement, and accidentally crashed right into Liam. The milk tea he’d made for me splashed all over both of them. Worried their first impression would be ruined, I rushed to introduce them. “This is my boyfriend, Liam.” “Liam, this is my best, best friend from the group home, Phoebe.” 2 My relationship with Liam was hardly what you’d call romantic. In high school, we spent our days in class and our nights skipping study hall to hand out flyers, just to earn enough for the next day’s meals. After our shift, we’d huddle together in the hallway outside his mom’s hospital room, using the dim corridor light to tutor each other. My literature was strong, my math was weak; he was the exact opposite. To keep from disturbing the patients, we wrote everything down on scraps of paper. We filled five whole notebooks over three years, and our final exam scores were identical. The day the results came out, his mom was too anxious to eat. I was trying to feed her some porridge when she gripped my hand, her eyes red-rimmed. “Renee, honey… if you and Liam don’t get into the same university, will you still come visit me?” Her voice was thick with emotion. “It’s okay if you fall for another boy later… but please, will you come back and be my daughter? Renee, I just can’t bear to lose you.” Liam walked in with a basket of clean laundry to find us both sobbing in each other’s arms. He looked utterly helpless. “We can do long distance if we have to,” he said, trying to soothe us. “And we’ll get married the second we graduate.” “After all,” he added, his voice full of certainty, “we’re meant to be together forever.” When we started college, I moved out of the group home, and his mom was discharged from the hospital. He couldn’t bear to accept any more charity from relatives, so we both took out student loans. University life gave us more time to work. I took two jobs; he took three. We were in different departments, so the only time we really had together was the short walk back to our dorms after our shifts, leaning against each other, dreaming about the future. We made a pact: we’d get the coveted, fully-funded study abroad spots in our junior year, then head to the States together. After that, marriage. That bright, hopeful future fueled us. We studied harder, worked longer, and saved every penny. But just as we’d saved enough, fate decided to play a cruel joke. Liam’s mom got worse. She was admitted to the ICU. Every dollar we had saved vanished into a black hole of medical bills. We borrowed more, but it was never enough. Her condition was volatile, and he spent every waking moment camped outside the ICU, unable to leave. I skipped all my classes, working from dawn until deep into the night on only three hours of sleep, wiring him every cent I earned. During that time, we never spoke of the future. Our texts were a grim exchange of hospital notices and my transaction receipts. The future was a distant luxury; just getting through the day was a battle. But thankfully, just before the application deadline for the study abroad program, his mother’s condition stabilized. The suffocating tension of the past six months finally broke. He rushed back from the hospital, I quit two of my jobs, and we threw ourselves into a frantic marathon of studying, desperate to catch up and ace the final exams for the program. The results were posted. Once again, our scores were identical. But we had missed an entire semester of classes. Our attendance grades were zero. He appealed, explaining he was caring for his sick mother. I didn’t need to appeal; every professor knew I’d been working to make ends meet. Filial piety trumped poverty. I lost. My spot was revoked and given to the student with the third-highest score. Liam was furious. He stormed the dean’s office, ready to confess that all my work, all my sacrifices, had been for him. But it was too late. The decision was final. His fists were clenched at his sides. “If you’re not going, then I’m not going either,” he declared. But this was his dream. He’d always wanted to study business in America, to come back and build a company, to give his mom and me a better life. I fought back the tears, my voice sharp as I grabbed his hand. “If you dare turn this down, Liam, I’m breaking up with you.” He broke down, sobbing, pulling me into a crushing hug and swearing a desperate oath. “Renee, wait for me. I swear I’ll come back for you. I’ll come back and marry you, and I’ll give you a home.” His voice was ragged. “If I ever let you down, may I be torn to pieces!” Listening to my story, Lena was already a mess, sniffling uncontrollably. “You two went through so much,” she choked out. “It’s just… it’s too cruel.” “So why didn’t you get married? Did something happen to him in the States? An accident?” I shook my head, my face calm. “He fell in love with someone else.” Lena’s sobbing stopped abruptly. She wiped her eyes and her hand curled into a fist, her expression turning to pure fury. “Then he would have been better off dead.” I suppose life just isn’t fair. Every time I thought I was about to have a family, the world would throw another obstacle in my path. The day the study abroad list was posted, the girl with the third-highest score was cheering in front of the announcement board. She turned, and our eyes met. “Renee!” “Phoebe?” I was still reeling when she threw her arms around me in an excited hug. She’d accidentally bumped into Liam, who was holding the milk tea he’d made to comfort me. And just like that, the only two students from our entire university going abroad that year had found each other. 3 Phoebe and I both grew up in the same group home. I was a few months older, so I naturally fell into the role of her protector. I’d give her the first bite of any food I managed to snatch, let her have first pick of the donated clothes, and when the opportunity for a real education came, I made sure she got into the better art school. So when I found out they were going to be in the States together, she puffed out her chest and promised me, “Don’t you worry, Renee. I’ll keep a close eye on Liam for you. I won’t let any other woman get near him!” At that moment, all I could think was: at least Liam won’t be alone. He’ll have a friend. After they left, my life reverted to the frantic pace it had been before the exams. His mom and I needed to live, to pay rent, to buy her medication. The only way was to work relentlessly, catching sleep whenever I could in the back of a lecture hall. Lena frowned again. “But that’s his mom. Why were you the one doing everything—caring for her, paying for her medicine, working yourself to the bone to support them?” she demanded. “What was he doing in America, just living it up? Did he not work? Did he not send you a single penny?” I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them and gave a slight nod. In the beginning, he called me every day, complaining about how expensive everything was, how he couldn’t find a job, how he was barely eating. Phoebe would get on the phone too, whining about how different it was from home, how even our days in the group home were better than this. My heart ached for them. I scraped together what little I had left and wired it to them, just so they could eat. Then the calls became less frequent. After six months, they stopped altogether. They’d still accept the money transfers, but they never replied. Just then, Lena’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the time, quickly packed her things, and clocked out for the day. I took one last look at Leo Blackwood’s file before getting up to head home. In the shower, I pulled off the silk scarf I always wore. The ugly, jagged scar on my neck was stark against my skin. A gift from Liam. Ten years ago, that spring, I couldn’t reach him. Phoebe wasn’t answering either. Panicked, I scraped together my last few dollars, bought the cheapest red-eye flight I could find, and went to him. I found them under a maple tree, locked in a passionate kiss. When they finally broke apart, he gently tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. They looked at each other and smiled, their eyes shimmering with a light I knew all too well. A soft breeze rustled the leaves. The warm glow of a streetlamp bathed them in golden light. They looked like a painting, like a line from a gentle poem. Something inside me snapped. I lunged forward, tearing them apart. The mug I was clutching—I threw it at his face. But as I spun to slap Phoebe, he threw it back. It hit the side of my head. Scalding hot water splashed out, cascading down my neck. I’d forgotten. The lid had been broken since the day they first met. It never sealed properly. I never had the money to buy a new one. The searing pain was unbearable, but Liam didn’t seem to see it. He pulled Phoebe behind him, shielding her, his eyes cold as ice as he stared at me. “Renee, if you’re going to hate someone, hate me. Phoebe has done nothing to you.” Hate. Oh, I hated. Ignoring the blistering burn, I screamed at them, my voice cracking with tears, demanding to know why they had betrayed me. Phoebe was crying too. At first, it was just quiet sobs. But as a crowd started to form, her voice rose to a fever pitch. “Renee, you don’t understand how hard it’s been for us here! You’re safe back home, but we only had each other to lean on! Us getting together… it was inevitable!” I refused to accept that. “You think my life back home has been a picnic? You had each other! Who did I have? I had no one!” Liam stepped between us, keeping me at bay, his body a protective wall in front of her. His eyes were downcast, his expression chillingly remote. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” “But Phoebe isn’t lying,” he continued, his voice low and steady. “We’ve been through a lot together this past year. We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to worry.” A cold wave washed over me. I stared at him, forcing out each word. “A lot in one year, Liam? So the seven years we spent together, everything we went through… that just counts for nothing?” “Do you have any idea that right before I got on that plane, your mother was talking about you? Worried sick that something had happened?” My voice rose, hysterical. “You haven’t called her once in six months! You just took the money I sent and started a new life with my best friend!” His head snapped up. His lips were a thin, hard line, his eyes black holes of shame. I knew that look. He’d carried the weight of poverty his whole life, and money was his deepest insecurity. For years, every time he saw the relatives who’d loaned him money, he would shrink into himself, making himself small. And now, he had to face the fact that for years, he and his mother had been living on my charity. “Renee, I took your money. I owe you,” he said, his voice flat. “What do you want as repayment? Is my life enough?” Before I could process his words, he pulled a small folding knife from his backpack. Without a moment’s hesitation, he plunged it into his own stomach.

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I spent seven years chasing Joey Williams. He spent seven years rejecting me. Everyone said Tessa Hart loved Joey to the bone. They also said Joey had a visceral, almost biological, aversion to Tessa. What they didn’t know was that for those seven years, in the privacy of my bed, Joey Williams loved me like his life depended on it. But the second his pants were back on, I was just his pathetic little puppy again. Five years after we split, Joey and I ended up at the same table at our high school reunion. The class president, a face I hadn’t seen in years, leaned in and whispered, “Tessa, are you still after Joey?” “I saw in the news he’s still single,” she nudged me. “This is your chance. Go for it!” I was about to shut her down when a new wave of excitement swept through the room. A man in a tailored suit, radiating an air of cool prestige, moved through the chorus of greetings and compliments and sat down in the empty chair beside me. “Tessa. It’s been a long time.” “Have you been well these last five years?” I offered a small, empty smile, my eyes downcast. “I’ve been great. Anything’s great, without you.” 1. The spoon in Joey’s hand clattered to the floor. The sharp sound cut through the chatter, and for a split second, his perpetually stoic mask shattered. As a waiter hurried over to replace the silverware, he leaned in close, his voice a low whisper. “Tessa…” I physically shifted my chair, creating a full arm’s length of distance between us. The light in his handsome, almond-shaped eyes dimmed. “I’ll give you a ride home after,” he said, his voice tight. “Not necessary.” I refused without a second thought. “It’s raining. You can’t ride your bike-share home in this.” The downpour outside was getting heavier. He was right, I couldn’t. I’d have to call for a car. “If you had just taken the money back then, your life wouldn’t be like this.” I wasn’t sure if he meant the severance package or the abortion money. He owed me for so much more than just one or the other. Five abortions, to be exact. A knot of irritation tightened in my stomach. I followed his gaze down to a dark smudge on the cuff of my pants. I’d forgotten. On my way here, a black Maybach had sped through a puddle, splashing dirty water all over me. So that was Joey’s car. He’d upgraded again. He must have had too much cash on the books and needed a new tax write-off. “I brought a raincoat. Don’t trouble yourself.” His eyes swept over me, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Tessa, why do you always have to be so stubborn?” “Joey.” A syrupy sweet voice cut him off. Every head in the room turned toward the door. A woman stood there in a chic, pale grey power suit, her makeup accentuating her sharp, model-esque features. People exchanged curious glances, wondering who she was. Only I didn’t look up. I just kept eating. I’d slept in and woken up starving, and our class president’s frantic calls had dragged me here before I’d even had a chance to grab a bite. “Tessa?” The woman, Lily, gasped with theatrical surprise, grabbing my hand. Her grip was limp. “What are you doing here? Joey told me it was his high school reunion, but I never thought you’d actually show up!” I forced a tight smile and gently pulled my hand away. “And you are?” our class president finally asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind. All eyes shifted to Joey. “My fiancée, Lily,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. So, a man like Joey was capable of publicly claiming someone. My seven-year underground romance and three-year secret marriage—ten years of my life, completely unacknowledged—suddenly felt like a colossal joke. A beat of stunned silence, then someone broke it with a “Congratulations!” and the room erupted in a fresh wave of chatter. Lily slid into the seat next to Joey, and they received the room’s good wishes like a newly married couple. “I’m late, so I really should do three shots to make up for it,” she announced brightly. “But Joey won’t let me drink right now, so I’ll toast you all with this instead.” Lily knew how to work a room. Even with Joey sitting there like a statue, she single-handedly charmed everyone, her glass held high. The atmosphere crackled back to life. In minutes, she had them all eating out of the palm of her hand. “By the way,” she said, her eyes scanning the table with a playful glint. “I heard someone in this class chased Joey for seven years straight. Who was it? I’m just so curious who could possibly have that much patience.” I kept my head down, the smile gone from my face. The room went silent. No one dared to look at me, probably afraid I’d flip the table. I’d always had a notoriously short fuse, and I held a grudge like it was my job. The only person who had ever been able to handle me was Joey. It was why no other girl had dared to even talk to him during the years I was chasing him. “She didn’t come today,” the class president said, kindly covering for me. “Oh? What a shame,” Lily sighed with mock disappointment. “I was hoping to give her a wedding invitation…” She finished with a giggle, collapsing dramatically into Joey’s arms. The class president stared daggers at her. “That woman is a real piece of work, isn’t she?” she muttered to me. I watched her channel her rage into devouring a chicken wing and had to stifle a laugh, pushing a glass of water toward her so she wouldn’t choke. She grabbed my arm, her voice a fierce whisper. “Tessa, my ship has officially sunk! Is there really no chance for you and Joey?!” She glared at Lily, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “It’s not like we were never together.” The class president’s jaw unhinged. I think her pupils actually dilated. I turned my head and looked directly at Joey, seeking confirmation. “Isn’t that right, Joey?” His brow twitched. He gave a curt nod. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” The class president shot to her feet, practically vibrating with the scandalous gossip. The whole room exploded. For seven years, everyone had assumed Joey despised me, that he found my very presence repulsive. Lily’s practiced smile froze on her face. She never expected me to reveal our secret history, and she certainly never expected Joey to confirm it. “Oh, so Tessa was your ex-girlfriend, Joey!” she recovered, her voice sharp. “Well, then I should thank you, Tessa. Thank you for stepping aside and giving me a chance with him.” She picked up two glasses—one with orange juice, one with hard liquor—and walked over. I pushed the liquor away, my expression turning cold. “Sorry, I can’t drink.” “What do you mean, you can’t drink?” she insisted, pushing the glass back toward me. “I remember when you were the sales director at the company. You could drink anyone under the table. You’re the one who taught me how to hold my liquor, remember?” Senior year of college, Joey had founded his own tech startup. I’d turned down a cushy job my family had arranged for me and went to work for him instead. In those early days, we were barely surviving. Joey was too proud to beg, too arrogant to schmooze for a deal. So I did it for him. Every contract, every partnership, every round of funding—I secured them all at the bottom of a bottle. And back then, Joey was grateful. So grateful that he asked me to marry him. Our seven-year underground romance gave way to a three-year secret marriage. In those days, Joey would make me hangover soup, hold me when I was drunk and rambling, and soothe me to sleep. Even when we had no money, he never forgot an anniversary, always scraping together enough for some extravagant gift. He gave me everything except a name. He never called me his wife in public. But it was enough. I convinced myself that, in his own way, he loved me. The company took off. Joey’s talent was undeniable, and he quickly made a name for himself. We started hiring. Lily was one of my first recruits. “I don’t like you being out there, in the spotlight,” Joey had said. “Find someone to do the drinking for you.” So I stepped back. Lily was fearless, a natural. She dove headfirst into the boozy world of business deals. I taught her everything I knew: how to pour the drinks, how to build a tolerance, how to close a deal over a dinner that reeked of alcohol. She was a fast learner. She was also beautiful, bubbly, and charming, and she started landing major contracts, one after another. Joey adored her. It was an open, undisguised affection. He showered her with bonuses, but also with personal gifts—expensive clothes, designer bags, jewelry. They became inseparable at the office, their closeness bordering on inappropriate. I fought with him about it, again and again. Every argument ended the same way: with him storming out. “Tessa, don’t project your own filthy thoughts onto others.” “Tessa, if you keep this up, there’s no reason for us to be together.” That relationship, built on my sacrifice, nearly destroyed me. Staring at the crystal-clear liquor in front of me, I looked up at Lily. “Then didn’t I also teach you never to push a drink on a woman?” I put down my chopsticks, took the glass, and poured its contents into Joey’s empty one. “Joey,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “if you can’t control your woman, don’t bring her out in public to embarrass herself.” The color drained from his face. He grabbed Lily’s arm, pulling her back. “That’s enough.” “Sit down and eat,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “If you won’t eat, the baby needs to.” His words fell like stones into the sudden silence. The food on the table suddenly tasted like ash. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, pushing my chair back. “I need to use the restroom.” The moment I stepped outside, a gust of cold, damp wind cut through my coat. I shivered, the nausea subsiding slightly. A baby. They were having a baby. Joey, the man who claimed to hate children, was having a baby with another woman. In our ten years together, I had been pregnant with his child five times. Every single time, he made me get an abortion. The excuse was always the same: his career was just taking off, and besides, he just didn’t like kids. Each time, he would shower me with gifts to “make me feel better.” He’d say we were still young, that we should enjoy our time together. And because I loved him so desperately, I always let him convince me. The drinking and the constant morning-after pills had wrecked my body. The fifth time I got pregnant, the doctor gave me a stark warning: if I terminated this one, I might never be able to have children again. On our third wedding anniversary, I cooked an elaborate meal. I was going to tell him. I wanted to keep this baby. But he never came home. Instead, I found him. In his office. On the couch. Entangled with Lily. “Tessa! Who said you could come in without knocking?!” he yelled, scrambling for clothes to cover her. “Get out!” Lily just stared at me, her eyes wide and innocent like a startled deer. That day, I fled. I even remembered to close the door behind me. When Joey finally came home, the apartment was destroyed. Food and cake were smeared on the floor. I had torn up every photo of us, smashed everything I could get my hands on. He calmly navigated the wreckage and sat down in front of me. I was the first to speak. I asked him when it started. “You don’t want to know.” “Tessa, can’t you just be happy being Mrs. Williams at home?” His voice was cold, each word a shard of ice in my heart. I went crazy. I started to call Lily, right in front of him. He snatched my phone and smashed it against the wall. “Are you insane? She doesn’t know anything!” The air froze. I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “Doesn’t she, Joey? Really?” We had a secret marriage, yes. But anyone with eyes could see how close we were. Lily had asked me about him dozens of times. She would have to be an idiot not to know. “I never told her,” he said, the words falling from his lips with chilling indifference. In that moment, I swear I could hear my heart cracking. “Tessa, I’m warning you. If you go after her, we’re getting a divorce.” For three years, every time I’d gotten upset about Lily, he had threatened me with divorce. And every single time, I had backed down. But not that time. “Fine, Joey,” I said. “Let’s get a divorce.” He made the terms impossible, demanding I leave with nothing, trying to force me to stay. I didn’t even argue. I just signed the papers. Back then, there was no mandatory cooling-off period. We had our divorce decree in hand that same day. Standing outside the city hall, he warned me through gritted teeth not to regret it. He was so sure I’d come crawling back. But I never did. In five years, I had barely even thought of him. If the class president hadn’t begged me to come to this reunion, I never would have seen him again. A weight settled on my shoulders. A black suit jacket, carrying a familiar, cold scent. Joey. “Tessa, it’s been five years,” he said, his voice thick with something I couldn’t name. “I never thought you’d actually be able to stay away.” Without a word, I shrugged the jacket off and handed it back to him. “Stay away? Or come back as your mistress?” I sneered. “Have you no shame, Joey? Is cheating an addiction for you?” His face hardened. He grabbed my wrist, his other hand yanking up the hem of my shirt. The pale skin of my stomach was covered in a fine web of silvery lines. “Tessa,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Five years ago… did you have my baby?” The wind was howling, and his words were almost lost in it. My vision blurred, and suddenly I was back in those awful days after our divorce, homeless and alone. I’d left with nothing. I was pregnant, and so ashamed I couldn’t even face my family. Three years as a housewife had left my resume empty. I had no money for an abortion, so I tried desperate, old-fashioned methods to induce a miscarriage. Jump rope, herbal remedies, starving myself for days. But the baby clung to life with a stubbornness that mirrored my own. And in the end, I couldn’t do it. I became the ultimate fool: a woman determined to give birth to her cheating ex-husband’s child. I lived in a tiny basement apartment, worked part-time at a diner, and did everything I could to nourish the small life growing inside me. I talked to him every day, telling him about my life. I bought him tiny clothes and even found a second-hand crib. I gave him the best of everything I had. I thought everything would be okay. But one night, I woke up in a pool of blood. “Your placenta has dropped, it’s almost completely covering the cervix,” the doctor said, her voice clinical and detached. “You need to be admitted for observation, or you will lose this baby.” Her words were like hammer blows to my heart. The cost of hospitalization was astronomical. I couldn’t afford it. The pain, the bleeding, the sheer terror of it all, made me think of him. Lying in that hospital bed, I finally broke. I called Joey. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity. When he finally picked up, his voice was rough and breathless. “Hello? Who is this?” And then I heard it. A soft, feminine moan in the background. My hand started to tremble. I fumbled with the phone, hanging up before he could say another word. The memory clawed at me, tearing at my nerves. I blinked, and Joey’s face swam back into focus. He was gripping my arm, his knuckles white. “Tessa, the baby! Where is my child?” I yanked my arm free. “Joey, if you’re sick, go see a doctor. And stop watching so many trashy soap operas. I’m not stupid enough to give birth to my cheating husband’s child!” He didn’t believe me. He pointed at my stomach. “Then where did these stretch marks come from? You never had them before.” I scowled, my patience gone. “You’re insane.” I turned to leave, but Lily’s voice stopped me. “Tessa, let us give you a ride,” she called out, hurrying over with my purse in her hand. “It’s so late, you’ll never get a cab in this rain.” My neck stiff, I nodded. The moment we were in the car, Lily started chattering about her latest OB-GYN appointment. Joey gave one-word answers, his eyes fixed on me in the rearview mirror. “This is our first, you know,” Lily said, smiling at me. “Joey is so protective. He found the best maternity hospital in the city for me. If you ever need a recommendation, I can give you their number.” Her smile was sickly sweet. “Oh, I just realized, I don’t even know where you live now, Tessa!” “The Westgate.” Lily’s mouth fell open. “The Westgate on Westview Drive? That’s the most expensive real estate in the city! How are you living there?” Joey’s eyebrows shot up, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Tessa, you’re not just saying that to save face, are you?” she pressed. I cut her off. “You’re right. I’m a nanny there.” Lily let out a little snort of laughter. Joey’s expression relaxed into one of understanding. Of course. The air in the car felt thick, poisoned. I couldn’t breathe. “Excuse me,” Lily said suddenly, “the morning sickness has been terrible lately. I’m just going to open a window.” There was a screech of tires. The car swerved violently, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around my stomach to brace for impact. Lily wasn’t so lucky; she hit her head on the window, letting out a yelp. She turned to Joey, her face crumpled, ready to whine for sympathy, but his attention was elsewhere. He was staring at me. His eyes were cloudy, unreadable. “You’re married?” he asked, his voice low. I shifted in my seat and nodded. “Yep. Got married right after the divorce.” He was speechless. The silence in the car was heavy, suffocating. Even Lily’s whimpering faded away. She was smarter than I had been. She knew when to be quiet. I used to keep pushing, even when Joey’s face was a thundercloud of rage. “To whom?” he finally gritted out, his eyes burning with a cold fire. I just looked at him, saying nothing. A car horn blared behind us. Defeated, Joey slammed his foot on the gas. The car shot forward, and we were at the gates of The Westgate in minutes. “Stay here,” he ordered Lily. He unbuckled his seatbelt and dragged me out of the car. “Tessa, go inside and quit your job. Right now.” “I will raise my child. You don’t need to demean yourself with a job as a nanny.” Demean myself. The word stung. “A nanny is nothing,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ve done worse. I’ve sold shots in clubs, washed dishes in restaurant kitchens. I even got paid to be a professional mourner at a stranger’s wake once. Do you want to hear more, Joey?” A vein throbbed in his temple. “That’s enough!” he roared. “What’s the matter, Joey? Putting on a show?” My sarcastic tone finally broke him. He dropped his head, his voice low and ragged. “Tessa… I just want to make it up to you.” He told me that after I’d left the reunion, people had started talking about me. “Class president, how did you even get in touch with Tessa?” someone had asked. “She changed her number, all her social media is dead.” “Ran into her at the farmer’s market,” she’d said, wiping her greasy fingers on a napkin. “She was there in her pajamas. I just invited her on the spot.” The table had buzzed with speculation. Maybe her family had lost their fortune. Maybe she’d fallen in with a bad crowd. Then someone had lowered their voice. “You don’t think she got dumped by some guy and left with nothing, do you?” And then another voice, even quieter. “I think I saw her, actually. At the hospital where I work. She was coming in for prenatal checkups.” “She was always alone. Looked like she hadn’t eaten in a week, just completely malnourished. And every time I saw her, she was wearing the same clothes, stained and… dirty…” Joey’s head had snapped up. He’d walked over to the speaker, his presence silencing the entire table. “When?” The man had stammered, confused. “When… when did you see Tessa getting these checkups?” “Five years ago,” he’d finally managed. “In the winter, I think… I don’t really remember the details…” Joey said it felt like the world had tilted on its axis. He’d followed me out without a second thought, not even hearing Lily when she called his name. Now, standing in the rain, his hand trembled at his side. “Tessa.” He hadn’t called me that since Lily came into the picture. “I saw the ultrasound report. Before our anniversary. I saw it.” I stared at him, speechless. He had known. He had known I was pregnant when he slept with Lily. He had known when he threatened me with divorce. He had known when he forced me to leave with nothing. “I just… I never thought you’d actually go through with it…” he stammered, his eyes pleading, searching for an excuse, for absolution. “Joey,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m telling you for the last time. I did not have your child.” He didn’t believe me. He reached for me again, his mouth opening to argue. “Mommy!” A tiny figure burst through the lobby doors, running toward me with a happy shriek. “Mommy, why didn’t you answer my phone?” “Poppy missed you so much today…” My daughter’s soft cheek rubbed against mine as I swept her up into my arms. “Tessa, the child is right here! Are you still going to lie to me?” Joey’s voice was triumphant. “She’s not your daughter, Joey. She’s only four.” “You’re lying!” he insisted, reaching for the child in my arms. I sidestepped him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar figure walking slowly out of the building. My heart skipped a beat. “I don’t have time for this, Joey. I’m telling you for the last time: this child has nothing to do with you.” I turned and walked quickly toward the lobby. The security guard stepped forward, blocking Joey from following. “Mommy, who was that scary man?” my daughter whispered. “Am I not Daddy’s girl?” “Of course you’re Daddy’s girl!” I said, pulling her close. Distracted, I walked straight into a solid chest. “Running while you’re holding Poppy?” a deep voice chided gently. “Have you forgotten you’re pregnant?” Ethan took my daughter from my arms and flicked my forehead playfully. I looped my arm through his, leaning against him with a happy sigh. “Zhang Ma told me you went to your reunion today,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Why didn’t you have Charles drive you?” His gaze flickered toward the tall figure still arguing with the guard at the gate, and his expression sharpened. “It was close, so I just went myself,” I said, quickly changing the subject with a pout. “Honey, I’m so tired…” Ethan just smiled and quickened his pace, letting the subject drop. The day had been exhausting. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. Later, after putting our daughter to bed, Ethan came into our room to find me sprawled across the bed. He chuckled softly and pulled the covers over me. He stood by the window for a long time, bathed in moonlight, and made a call. “I want a list of everyone who attended my wife’s reunion today. Full background checks. Male and female.” He looked back at my sleeping form, a rare, soft smile on his lips. “Tessa,” he whispered to the quiet room. “You know you can trust me.” The only answer was the sound of my soft, even breathing.

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