I was buying groceries. At checkout, the owner suddenly said to me: “It was you and your boyfriend who walked out without paying yesterday, right?” I told him I wasn’t even here yesterday. But the owner insisted it was me and my boyfriend. Helpless, I called my boyfriend over. The owner just smirked: “Not this one. It was the other one. The old man.” I sneered: “Boss, actually, I saw you in a video once.” “You were carrying a bottle of cooking oil and half a watermelon.” Several girls standing nearby nodded in unison. “Yeah! We saw it too!” 1 “Check out, please.” I put the vegetables on the counter. The middle-aged owner stared at the Mahjong game on his phone, fingers swiping furiously, not even looking up. I raised my voice: “Boss, check out!” “Don’t rush, little girl!” He looked up impatiently, his eyes locking onto my face. “It was you, right?” I was baffled. “What was me?” He slapped his phone face down on the counter, a scornful smile plastered on his face. “Hey, don’t be so quick to deny it!” “Yesterday, around this time, just as the sun was setting! You were wearing a white dress. And you were with a guy, right? Glasses, tall and skinny!” “You two were picking and choosing, filled a whole basket! Even took a box of the most expensive strawberries! Then, while I was in the back moving stock, you snuck out!” 2 I took a step back. Subconsciously, I recalled what I did after work yesterday. No. Yesterday after work, I went to the movies with my best friend. I wasn’t here at all. I quickly explained: “I didn’t come to your supermarket yesterday, and I wasn’t wearing a white dress!” “Boss, you must have mistaken me for someone else.” “Mistaken you?” The owner let out a weird laugh. “I’ve been doing business in this neighborhood for seven or eight years. I never forget a face!” “Fine,” he waved his hand, acting magnanimous. “You’re young, thin-skinned, embarrassed to admit it. I understand.” “How about this? Yesterday’s stuff plus what you’re buying today, let’s call it an even three hundred bucks. Pay up, leave, and I’ll pretend nothing happened. Save you some face, how about it?” 3 Hearing this. I was ready to call the police. But then I remembered my mom mentioning recently that last month’s flood destroyed a lot of valuable stock in this supermarket. He lost tens of thousands. His wife was in poor health and needed surgery soon. So he was desperate to find the person who skipped the bill. I suppressed my anger and took out my phone. I pulled up the movie ticket order from last night. “Yesterday after work, I went to see a movie with my best friend. That theater is like six miles from here.” “So it’s impossible for me to have been in your store at that time.” The owner’s eyes swept over the screen, flickering for a second. But just for a second. He crossed his arms. “Who knows who watched the movie? Maybe you bought tickets for someone else?” “Anyway, I saw it with my own eyes yesterday. You and your boyfriend didn’t pay!!” 4 “There’s no point arguing like this.” I pointed to the surveillance camera on the wall. “Check the tapes!” “If I really stole from you yesterday, I’ll pay you triple!” “But if you’re wrongly accusing me, I want a handwritten apology posted on your front door for three days!” The owner waved his hand dismissively. “Forget it.” “Regulars know my cameras are trash. Can’t see a nose from an eye.” “Even if I check, you won’t admit it! Pointless!” Just then. A middle-aged man smoking in the corner put out his cigarette and spoke slowly. “Little girl, I live in the complex behind here. I’ve known Old Zhang for years! His memory is good! How many people in this neighborhood? He remembers them all after one look! He even remembers who buys what vegetables! If he says it’s you, he definitely remembers.” Several customers browsing nearby were drawn by the commotion. Two of them were aunties from my building. My mom even square danced with them! If I didn’t clear this up today. Tomorrow, I’d be infamous in the neighborhood. I stared coldly at the owner: “You just said my boyfriend was tall, skinny, and wore glasses, right?” The owner nodded firmly: “That’s right! I remember clearly!” “Wait right here! I already texted him to come over!” “In a minute, use those ‘unforgettable’ eyes of yours and take a good look!” 5 It didn’t take long. The plastic curtain was pushed aside. My boyfriend, Mark, rushed in, reaching my side in a few strides. He was wearing sportswear, built like an ox, muscles clearly defined. “Jen, what’s wrong? What happened?” I stepped aside, letting Mark stand fully in front of the owner. “Boss, look closely! This is my boyfriend!” “Yesterday afternoon, was he the one skipping the bill with me? Is this the tall, skinny guy with glasses?” Actually. The owner’s face had frozen the moment Mark rushed in. Mark doesn’t wear glasses. He’s jacked. Clearly someone who works out constantly. Completely different from the person he described. 6 The owner’s eyes darted around, then he feigned casualness: “Not… not this one… it was another one.” “That one was older! A bit balding too!” Although he didn’t fully understand the situation, hearing this, Mark’s face darkened instantly. “What do you mean?” The owner glanced at Mark’s clenched fist and immediately switched to a ‘heart-to-heart’ expression: “Young man, don’t be impulsive! Lots of people here. Let Uncle tell you something.” Saying this, he half-pushed, half-pulled Mark a few steps outside the supermarket door. “Yesterday it was your girlfriend! Wearing a white dress! Following a guy in his fifties. They were close while shopping, he even fixed her hair!” He clicked his tongue. “You could tell they weren’t just friends! Young man, go home and ask her! Don’t let yourself be used!” Mark’s fist was still clenched, but his frown deepened. He looked at the owner, then shot a messy glance at me standing in the doorway. Seeing he didn’t argue, the owner felt he succeeded. He patted Mark’s arm: “Think about it!” He turned and went back into the supermarket. 7 Only Mark and I were left at the door. I walked over and looked him in the eye: “You believe him?” “I don’t!” Mark retorted immediately, voice raised, but the urgency felt hollow. “Jen, I want to believe you!” His tone struggled, and finally, he threw out the doubt: “You said you went to the movies with Lily after work yesterday… but I ran into Lily at the gym this afternoon. She said she was working overtime at the office last night until almost ten!” I froze. Overtime? Impossible! Lily watched the movie with me after work yesterday. There must be a misunderstanding! I pulled out my phone immediately: “I’ll call and ask her right now!” 8 To prove my innocence. I put it on speaker. The call connected quickly. “Hello? Jen?” Lily’s voice came through, sounding normal, even a bit relaxed. “Lily!” I didn’t bother with pleasantries, my voice tight. “Mark just told me… he saw you at the gym today, and you said you were working overtime last night? Until ten?” Silence on the other end. Dead silence. My heart sank bit by bit. “Uh?” Lily’s voice finally sounded, clearly hesitant. “Over… overtime?” “Did Mark mishear? Yesterday after work, I watched the movie with you!” Mark grew even more suspicious at her ambiguous attitude. “Lily, what movie did you watch yesterday?” Another suffocating silence on the other end. “Oh, uh, I didn’t really pay attention to the movie yesterday…” Lily stammered. “So I don’t remember clearly!” I interrupted her incoherent excuses. “Lily, why are you doing this?” “We discussed the plot after dinner yesterday. Now you say you don’t remember?” I told her exactly what situation I was facing. “Lily, I need you to tell the truth right now!” Lily’s voice rose sharply, sounding guilty: “Jen, can you keep me out of your issues with Mark? Solve it yourself!” Then. Click. She hung up.

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Uncle Rick had racked up a massive gambling debt. My mom put three crumpled balls of paper on the table and told us, her three children, to draw lots. “To be fair, whoever draws the paper with ink on it takes on all of Uncle Rick’s debt.” “Big sister goes first, little brother goes last. Don’t blame anyone if you pick it. It’s just fate.” At that exact moment, I saw a stream of text scrolling across the sky, like comments on a livestream: [Girl, don’t do it! Every single paper in that box has ink on it! Whoever draws first is doomed!] [Your mom is secretly livestreaming this from the corner to make sure you can’t back out later! There are already hundreds of thousands of people watching!] [She knows you can’t pay it back. She’s already called the black market organ harvesters. They’re waiting outside. Whoever draws is dead meat!] Whoever draws, dies? I smiled. I stopped my little sister, Penny, who was reaching out out of curiosity, and shoved the box directly in front of my brother, Tyler. “Tyler’s the boy. He should go first.” Then, I grabbed my mom’s arm and pulled her closer. “Mom, why don’t you draw one, too?” 1 The loan sharks had just left, and Mom immediately whipped out the paper balls for the draw. My brother Tyler’s chubby hand reached out first. “I wanna go first!” Mom, who usually spoiled him rotten, actually slapped his hand away. Hard. “No rules! We go by age. Oldest to youngest. It’s all about luck, stop grabbing!” I sneered internally. Then, more text floated across my vision. [She never thinks of her daughter when there are good things, but the second there’s debt, she pushes her to the front!] [She’s dying to sell her daughter for cash. She probably plans to use the leftovers to buy a house for her precious son.] [This isn’t just about money. It’s murder.] “Nora, you’re the oldest. You draw,” Mom commanded. Uncle Rick and Aunt Pam, who had been wailing moments ago, stopped crying. They stared at me with hungry eyes. “Hurry up! Or those thugs will come back! Niece, do you want to see your uncle beaten to death?” “Stop stalling. You’re a pretty girl; money comes faster for you than for a boy.” Penny reached her hand out, curious. I blocked her, hiding the cold look in my eyes, and forcibly shoved Tyler’s hand into the box. “Tyler is the man of the house one day. He should go first!” Before Mom could react, I shoved the box into her arms. “Mom, you grab one too. Uncle Rick is your brother. You have more life experience; surely you have more ways to make money than us.” The box seemed to burn her skin. She threw it away without thinking. Then, she snatched the paper Tyler had grabbed, tore it to shreds, and screamed at me. “You little ungrateful wretch! Playing games with me? Don’t want to draw? Fine! If you won’t draw, then it’s you! You’re paying your uncle’s debt!” [It’s over. Is she really going to sell her daughter just like that?] [Those organ harvesters are brutal. They’ll strip her for parts until there’s nothing left.] Sell me? I subtly scanned the room, looking for the hidden phone. Once I spotted the camera lens peeking out from a pile of clutter, I stood up, threw open the window, and started wailing at the top of my lungs. If hundreds of thousands of people were watching, surely they wouldn’t beat me to death on camera. “Mom! What do I do?! I want to help Uncle Rick, but I’m a fresh college grad! I barely make $2,500 a month! Uncle gambled away $200,000! How am I supposed to pay that?!” “Uncle Rick, it’s not that I don’t want to help, I literally can’t!” Mom sneered from the side. “Crying is useless. This is your fate.” But Uncle Rick rushed over to cover my mouth. “Shut up! Are you trying to call the debt collectors back?!” I glanced at the yard. The thugs were already turning back. I smiled. Too late, Uncle. Here they come. 2 The lead thug kicked the door open. Our flimsy front door, already hanging by a thread, crashed to the floor. “Are you playing games with us? Trying to fool us?” “You want a little girl to pay the debt? On $2,500 a month? I’d be waiting until the next century!” “Figure it out now, or I break your legs! Let’s see if you can gamble in a wheelchair! You don’t have money? Then stop acting like a big shot!” Uncle Rick’s knees buckled. Most people have a backbone. My uncle was a jellyfish. He dropped to his knees. “Big bro, please! Just give me a little more time. I’ll find the money, I swear!” The thug kicked him square in the shoulder. Aunt Pam screamed. Rick rolled over, scrambling back up with a face full of snot and tears. “Bro, listen, I’m working on it! I don’t have cash, but I have people! Look, my sister has three kids!” [Wow. Shameless.] I pinched my thigh hard, forcing tears to stream down my face. I wailed, “I’ll work hard to pay it back! If I don’t eat or drink for the next 27 years, I can pay off the principal! Please, just wait!” “What?!” The thug was furious. “27 years? Are you mocking me? I’m not waiting that long. Pay up now!” Uncle Rick started cursing at me. Aunt Pam joined in, sobbing, “Sister, control your kid! Is she trying to get my husband killed?” Mom was frantic. She took off her slipper and raised it to hit me. Penny threw herself over me. “Mommy, don’t hit Nora! Please!” I looked at my little sister, my heart aching. Other kids get love. We were born to be blood bags. I pushed Penny aside and threw myself at Mom’s legs, hugging them tight. “Mom! It’s my fault I’m useless! But we can’t let Uncle Rick die!” “He’s your baby brother! You have to help him!” Uncle Rick and Aunt Pam’s heads snapped toward us. They saw a new lifeline. “Sis! Nora is right. She’s too young to make real money, but you can!” “You guys own this house, you must have savings! Please, help us first!” Now, it was Mom’s turn to panic. 3 Uncle and Auntie played the family card hard, and I piled on the moral blackmail. “Mom, you always told us that we have to support our family no matter what. You said siblings are our backbone.” “Isn’t Uncle Rick your backbone? Are you just going to watch him die?” “If something happens to him, how will you face Grandma and Grandpa in the afterlife?” Mom’s face turned from green to purple. “Shut your mouth!” With a massive debt looming over her head, she forgot about the livestream. She raised her arm and smacked my back twice, hard. Years of farm work gave her a heavy hand; my back burned with pain. Penny cried and tried to stop her, but Mom shoved her to the ground. I clenched my fists and endured it. Born into this hellhole, I had no choice. I had to save myself. And I was going to take Penny with me. “I’m sorry, Mom! I won’t say anything else!” I sobbed. Then I looked at Uncle Rick. “I’m sorry, Uncle. We really can’t help. Mom has her own family to feed. She can’t save you.” Rick exploded. “Wang Xiuhua! I am your brother!” Mom’s face was red, but she stayed silent. The thugs saw that Rick wasn’t going to pay up anytime soon. The leader walked into the kitchen and came back with a meat cleaver. “No money today? I take a hand. Next week? I take a leg!!” I grabbed Penny, burying her face in my chest. “Penny, close your eyes. Don’t look.” Mom didn’t want the debt, but seeing the knife, she panicked and rushed forward to stop them. Aunt Pam grew a spine and joined the fray. The room erupted into chaos. Our furniture was smashed to pieces. In the scuffle, Mom got shoved hard and hit the back of her head on the floor. The floating comments rejoiced: [So satisfying! Karma comes fast!] [But the girl isn’t safe yet. The organ traffickers are still waiting outside!] I looked at Tyler, the family’s “Golden Child.” The person who loved him most was groaning on the floor in pain, but he was standing on a chair, cheering, “Yeah! Get him! Fight!” I silently pitied my mother for raising such a monster. But I grabbed his arm. [Go outside and find Dad! Now!] He curled his lip. “No way. Let them fight. If one dies, the rest go to jail. Cool.” [Wow. Just wow.] [Open your eyes, Mom! This is your precious son!] I suppressed the chill in my eyes. “This house is your inheritance, Tyler. If someone dies in here, the property value drops to zero! Go get Dad, now!” Only when his future assets were threatened did his expression change. Mom was still in the middle of the brawl, totally unaware. I watched the door intently. A few minutes later, the comments updated. [Oh snap.] [The Golden Child just got snatched.] [Mom dug her own grave. Her precious baby boy got taken by the traffickers she hired. Good luck explaining that to her husband!] I took a deep breath and called my dad. 4 By the time Dad got back, the thugs had trashed the place. Uncle and Auntie tried to beg for money again, but Dad chased them out with the meat cleaver. When I picked up the phone that was still livestreaming, the comments were going wild. [That man looks terrifying. Is he going to hit the kids? Someone call the cops!] [This woman is awful, but she doesn’t deserve to die. This family is a horror show. We don’t even know the address to send help!] I ended the stream. Mom and Dad? They fight, they break things, they make up. It wasn’t worth the police yet. Dad’s cursing filled the room. “Wang Xiuhua! You lost my son for that piece of trash brother of yours?!” “What? My son? Where is he?” Mom’s wailing and Dad’s screaming echoed. Penny shrank into my arms, looking at me with terrified eyes. “Sister, is Daddy going to hit us?” Seeing the bruises on her arm, I hugged her tighter. In this house, beatings were as common as dinner. “No. I’ll protect you.” The noise next door died down. Then, Dad kicked our door open. Bam! “You two useless girls! Why are you just sitting there? Go find your brother!” We scrambled out like we’d been granted amnesty. I took Penny to the river in the next village and we sat there all afternoon. We didn’t head back until it was pitch black. “Sister, if we don’t find him, will Mom and Dad be mad?” They would be furious. But right now, Dad had someone he hated more than us. He wouldn’t have time for us.

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During an interview, the host kept grilling me on why I broke up with my ex. I put on a pained expression and said, “I just couldn’t handle a long-distance relationship.” At that very moment, my ex was filming a farming reality show. He came back from the fields at midnight, saw the interview, and immediately raged on Twitter: “Bullsh*t. The walk between our dorms was five minutes. Five. Minutes. And you’re telling me you couldn’t handle the distance?” Consequently, the entire internet demanded I be shipped off to the farm. If we’re ranking toxicity, the host of a divorce variety show comes in second. No one dares to claim first place. They are ruthless. I get it. No sane celebrity wants to go on these shows. So when they finally caught a sucker like me, they had to dig for gold. She practically shoved the microphone down my throat. “So, Zoe, why exactly did you and your ex break up? We’re all dying to know.” I looked miserable on the outside, but inside, I was recycling every sad memory of my life just to keep from laughing. “I… I couldn’t handle the long distance.” She wouldn’t let it go. Thankfully, I was quick-witted and diverted the topic to another guest. But the unexpected happened. My chaotic ex responded. “Bullsh*t. The walk between our dorms was five minutes. Five. Minutes. And you’re telling me you couldn’t handle the distance?” The internet exploded. After all, Chase Sterling is a top-tier A-lister. I’m just a C-list actress. There’s no comparison. He came from a boy band, the most popular member by far. Now that his three-year contract is up and the group disbanded, his popularity has only skyrocketed. Every actress in Hollywood wants a scandal with him. It’s a faster way to get famous than actually acting. So when my agent slapped the contract for “Harvest Hearts”—a farming reality show—on my desk, I was stunned. I thought she and Chase had both lost their minds. “It’s because you have no filter,” she said. “Plus, Chase responded. You’re trending #1 worldwide. The internet is crowdfunding to send you to the farm.” I wanted to cry. Going on a reality show with my ex? That’s basically a death sentence. Especially with his fan base. I really can’t afford to offend him. I asked if I could skip it. My agent said no. She’d already signed the contract. So, she packed my bags overnight and shipped me off to the countryside. Before I left, she added, “I know it’s not appropriate for a girl to go alone, so I found you a companion.” I didn’t pay attention to her words. I was too busy panicking about seeing Chase again. It had been three years. The dirt roads in the countryside were unforgiving. My suitcase wouldn’t roll; I was basically dragging a dead body. I was dying of anxiety, but the camera crew just watched, refusing to help. Suddenly, a familiar, piercing voice rang in my ear. “Oh look, Princess Zoe can’t even walk. How precious.” My eyes widened. I looked up. Sienna?! Holy crap, why is she here? The whole industry knows we hate each other. She looked me up and down with disdain, then grabbed the handbag sitting on top of my suitcase. “Walk faster, short legs.” I opened my mouth to retort but couldn’t. Nobody can look at her 5’9″ model frame and argue about leg length. It didn’t matter. The rural dirt road punishes everyone equally. Soon, the wheels on both our suitcases were stuck in the mud. We were both ready to smash our luggage to pieces. Just as we were about to give up, a hand appeared in my field of vision, naturally taking the handle of my suitcase. I followed the hand up the arm. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt, thin lips pressed together, expression indifferent. “I got it.” I froze, letting him take it. My heart was trying to hammer its way out of my chest. It was Chase Sterling. Another guy took Sienna’s luggage, grinning at me. I recognized him. Jax. The youngest member of Chase’s old boy band. Following behind them, I heard Jax mumble, “Chase is such a dog. I ran over to help Zoe first, but he cut me off.” My footsteps faltered. But Chase didn’t say a word, just led me to the house. The live comments were scrolling across the screen: [My farming boy band has manners! Helping the girls with luggage!] [Chase took Zoe’s luggage!!] [Relax, guys. Zoe was in front, Chase was in front. It’s just geography. Don’t be delusional.] I realized the livestream had already started. The production team put us in the old accountant’s office. It hadn’t been renovated. Peeling paint, flying bugs, no cameras installed yet. Chase frowned and started cleaning. Sienna had already run off somewhere, too disgusted to stay. I started to help him in silence, but the moment I moved, he stopped me. “I never let you do this kind of work growing up, why start now? Go sit over there. I wiped the chair.” So I sat obediently and watched him clean. For a moment, it felt like the old Chase. Growing up, as long as Chase was around, I never had to lift a finger. He was a guy who couldn’t even take care of himself, yet he took care of me with meticulous precision. My nose stung, a wave of bitterness washing over me. If that incident hadn’t happened… Maybe I could have been with Chase forever. After cleaning, Chase pulled out his phone, looking a bit unnatural. “Add me back on WeChat.” I tilted my head, looking at him. He coughed lightly. “We spend most of our time in the fields. If you need something, just message.” I looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t you guys just yell across the field?” Chase touched his neck. “You’re a girl. You don’t have a loud voice.” I narrowed my eyes. Since we were kids, whenever he lied, he touched his neck. Uncomfortable under my gaze, he glared at me, raising a fist playfully. “Add me or I’ll beat you up.” I immediately scanned his QR code. A wise woman knows when to fold. Before leaving, Chase dropped a sentence: “Don’t overthink it. It’s just for work.” I shrugged, feigning indifference. “Oh. I didn’t.” The smile on his face instantly vanished. I was confused. Men. Who understands them? I sat on the bed and started unpacking. Sienna came back from wandering around, complaining the moment she stepped in. “What is this dump? I must have had bad karma in a past life to be stuck here with you.” She complained while making her bed, getting angrier by the second. “Ugh, this is annoying! Zoe, make my bed!” I realized then that Chase had only made my bed. I blinked, looking sincere. “I don’t know how.” Her eyes bugged out. Her expression was a masterpiece. I lowered my head. Boohoo, she’s cursing me out in her head, I just know it. In the end, she had to ask a production assistant for help. When the assistant left, she complimented my sheets. “Those blue fish sheets are cute.” I realized something. The sheets had a blue fish pattern. But I didn’t bring sheets. Chase brought them. Day two of farming. I was woken up at 5:30 AM. My brain was empty, and so was my stomach. I had heard them leave for the fields in my sleep, so I figured there was no breakfast left. I went to the kitchen. I planned to scavenge, but I found a bowl of soup covered in the corner. There was a sticky note: “Breakfast. Don’t die of hunger and blame us.” I knew that handwriting anywhere. Chase. I secretly pocketed the note and sat down to eat the wontons. Unfortunately, Sienna woke up. Chase had only left one bowl. Panicked, I pushed the remaining half-bowl toward Sienna. If I didn’t, she’d tear the roof off. She stared at the bowl, then at me. “Are these guys on a diet? They eat like birds?” I laughed awkwardly, secretly swallowing the wonton in my mouth. After breakfast, Sienna said she was going to balance the books. I had nothing to do, and going to the fields would just cause trouble. So I asked the director to take me to the market. I’d buy them some good food. “Boss, I’ll take all these fruits. And those vegetables.” I was a queen in the market. The livestream comments were flying. [Confirmed: Zoe is a 5-year Chase stan. These are all his favorites.] [OMG, she loves him so much. I’m crying. Get back together, please, do it for me.] [Wait, the director didn’t confiscate Zoe’s wallet? Did they finally grow a heart?] I clutched my wallet tightly. I had argued with the director for three hours to keep this money. On the way back, we passed a pharmacy. I snuck in when no one was looking. I bought a bunch of pain relief patches. Chase was visibly covered in bruises and scrapes. I was terrified he’d collapse in the field one day. Everyone had work to do. If he went down, his workload would fall on me and Sienna, the two idlers. I can’t handle hardship. So I had to buy him medicine. Yes, that’s exactly why. If Chase is healthy, I get to relax. “Harvest Hearts” operates on a model combining agriculture with a farm-to-table restaurant. But operations were tough in the beginning, so the restaurant guests were mostly celebrity friends. When I got back, I realized we had guests. “Zoe, how’s life treating you here?” Liam greeted me, and I snapped out of it. I ran over, surprised. “What are you doing here?” He smiled. “Heard you were farming. Came to see the spectacle.” I met Liam on a drama set. He took care of me during filming, and we stayed in touch. I checked the time and decided to start cooking. The girl who came with Liam was named Vanessa. I’d seen her on shows before, but we weren’t close. She eagerly came over to help. I was flattered. She seemed nice. “I see you bought celery. Chase loves celery. Let’s make a dish with it for lunch,” Vanessa said, waving a bunch of celery. My heart stuttered. I forced a smile. “You know Chase?” She nodded, looking nostalgic. “We filmed a web drama when he first debuted. I was his female lead. We were both idols then, knew nothing about acting. We spent every lunch break studying the script together.” It was a normal statement, but it stung. The comments added fuel to the fire: [Sobbing. I watched that drama! I shipped them so hard. I thought the ship sank, but it feels like they’ve been dating in secret!] [Chanessa is real! Rise, my ship!!] [They’re from the same agency, trained together before debut. Read between the lines, people!] I wanted to gouge my eyes out. Everyone started trickling back. Jax ran into the yard, shouting, “Zoe! Chase talked about you all morning!” I teased him. “Oh? What did he say?” He mimicked Chase’s deadpan face. “‘Zoe is an idiot. Can she even find breakfast? She’s dumb as a rock.’” Chase appeared behind him and smacked the back of his head. “Making up rumors about your brother? You want to die?” Jax shut up. Chase glanced at me. “He’s a kid. He talks nonsense.” I smiled and ignored him. “Zoe, want eggplant for lunch? I saw some ripe ones in the field,” Liam asked from behind. Before I could speak, Chase’s expression sharpened. “She’s allergic to eggplant.” Liam paused, looking at me for confirmation. I nodded, embarrassed. I hadn’t even reacted that fast myself. Vanessa smiled and took the eggplant. “Since Zoe is allergic, I’ll take these away.” I smiled at her and went to the stove. Just as I started to stir-fry, Chase snatched the spatula. “Go play outside. You don’t need to cook.” Wow, he’s looking down on me. I glared at him. “I can cook!” He glanced at me. “I know. But you don’t need to. The men in this house aren’t dead yet. This isn’t a place for you.” I blinked, my heart doing a little flip. Vanessa chimed in. “Chase is always like this, so considerate. Go play, Zoe. I’ll help here. I’ve done this before.” Chase was busy and didn’t seem to notice me, so I said “Oh” and backed out of the kitchen. As I passed him, I checked that no one was looking and shoved the pain patches into his pocket. “Payment for lunch.” I fled the kitchen. [Chase, you are too much!!] [Chanessa is so sweet, Mom & Dad energy! Zoe is like their kid, so cute!] [Zoe, what did you stuff in his pocket?! Mom does not approve!!] [Does anyone remember Zoe bought patches in town…] Watching the scrolling comments, I zoned out. This Chase x Vanessa ship came out of nowhere. I checked Twitter. They occupied three trending topics. Marketing accounts had released behind-the-scenes footage of them filming and training together over the last two days. It baited a lot of fans into shipping them. The hype was almost as big as when Chase responded to my interview… In the distance, Jax yelled, “Chase! We want spicy chicken today! Explosively spicy!” Chase nodded. Most of the ten guys on the show loved spicy food. I noticed almost every meal was spicy. Unfortunately, I can’t handle spice. So I snuck back to get my jar of chili-free mixing sauce. The comments asked what I was sneaking around for. I said I can’t eat spicy food, so I’m getting sauce for my rice. At lunch, Vanessa leaned toward Chase. “Chase, try the cucumber salad we made.” I pouted. “We” made? “I” is her. Who is “we”? Is saying my name embarrassing? Chase was talking to Jax. “I’m not eating…” I watched the refusal form on his lips, but when he saw the cucumber salad, he swallowed the words. “I’ll try it.” He reached out, took a bite, and paused. The atmosphere got weird. Vanessa asked with concern, “Is it bad? I didn’t taste it. Let me try.” She reached for her chopsticks, but Chase stopped her. “Don’t. The salt merchant must have died in this bowl.” Chase took another bite. “And there’s so much cilantro, just call it cilantro salad.” Another bite. “It takes talent to make cucumbers taste like this.”

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1 As the founder of my own small company, I was never stingy with my employees. When we cleared a million dollars in profit, I gave them $850,000 of it. I thought generosity would win their loyalty. Instead, they reported me to the Department of Labor. “We’ve received an anonymous complaint from an employee at your company,” the voice on the phone said, dripping with official boredom. “Allegations of arbitrary wage deductions and unfair profit distribution.” “Furthermore, claims of a chaotic work environment and forced overtime, in serious violation of labor laws. You are ordered to rectify these issues immediately.” “And you’re being fined fifty thousand dollars.” Fine. If they were so unhappy with my policies, then we would do things by the book. Just like every other company out there. And that million-dollar profit? They wouldn’t see a single cent of it. … I immediately called my assistant and had her draft a new set of company regulations. Then, I scheduled an all-hands meeting. The moment I stepped out of my office, I heard their whispers. “Hey, do you really think he’s going to give us 85% of the profits? Is that even possible?” “No way. It’s a no-brainer. What kind of boss is that nice? He’s just exaggerating for the press, trying to build a reputation. We’re just pawns in his PR game, you know?” “Exactly. All bosses are the same. I don’t buy this whole ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ act. Sure, he says we can be late or leave early, but we still have to make up the hours, don’t we?” “And letting us take salary advances whenever we want? He’s just trying to make us dependent on him so we can’t leave.” … Every carefully analyzed sentence was a blow. A cold weight settled in my stomach. I never imagined my kindness would be twisted into a manipulative tactic to buy loyalty. I had treated my employees with genuine respect, and in return, I got not loyalty, but suspicion. Betrayal. If that’s how they wanted it, then I was done being genuine. I quietly slipped back into my office. A few minutes later, my assistant came in with the newly printed company handbook. “Sir, the new company regulations are ready.” “Good. Announce the meeting.” “Yes, sir.” When I walked into the conference room, it was a cacophony of chatter. Before this, I’d never restricted their freedom, encouraging them to treat the office like a second home. The atmosphere had always been relaxed. “Hey, the boss said yesterday he was giving us that $850,000 bonus. You think today’s the day?” “Get ready for a payday!” I cleared my throat as I walked to the head of the table. “I’ve called this meeting to announce a major change,” I began, my voice ringing with a new authority. “The company has instituted a new set of rules and regulations.” “From this day forward, we will operate by these standards.” I had my assistant distribute a copy to everyone. Someone started reading it aloud. “Effective immediately, employees are not permitted to be late or leave early. All staff must adhere to the prescribed work hours. Violations will result in a fifty-dollar deduction from your paycheck. Furthermore, employees will be subject to monthly performance reviews. The lowest-performing employee each month will be terminated.” “No more salary advances?!” Shock rippled through the room. A woman named Lisa looked up at me. “Boss, is this some kind of joke?” “Yeah, sir, I thought we were getting our bonuses today.” “You’ve got a great sense of humor, boss, but it’s not April Fools’ Day.” … They were so sure. So certain I would never change a thing. The lively, casual atmosphere started to return. I slammed my hand on the table. The sharp crack silenced the room. “Quiet! In what company do employees chatter freely during a meeting?” After a beat of stunned silence, someone spoke up hesitantly. “But… we’ve always been like this, sir.” “That was then. The rules have changed.” “Starting today, everyone will strictly adhere to the new regulations, just like at any other company. No lateness, no leaving early.” “And that $850,000 profit share,” I said, letting the words hang in the air. “I’m canceling it.” A collective gasp went through the room. “What?!” One man shot to his feet. “Sir, you promised you would share that with us!” “Yeah, and what was wrong with the old system? Why change it?” One after another, they stood up, a united front of protest. My eyes scanned each of their faces. My probing had revealed the truth. It wasn’t just one person who had reported me. They had banded together. A conspiracy. And now they stood here, playing dumb, asking me why. How pathetic. “Are you the boss, or am I?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “There will be no further discussion of unrelated matters in this meeting. Anyone who brings it up again will be docked fifty dollars.” That shut them up. I let out a cold, humorless laugh and turned to leave. They thought this was a shock? They had no idea what was coming. That same day, I had time clocks installed at the building entrance. The next morning, my assistant brought me the tardiness report. More than half the company was late. “Notify them. Fifty dollars deducted from their pay.” “And add a new rule. If anyone is late more than ten times in a month, they’re fired for gross negligence.” The moment my assistant relayed the message, my office door burst open. A dozen employees crowded inside. “Boss, we were only half an hour late. This is a bit extreme, don’t you think?” “Yeah, fifty bucks is my grocery money for a few days!” … I put down my pen and looked at them. “The new rules were made perfectly clear yesterday.” “Your failure to comply is not my problem.” “But—” They were stunned into silence. For the next few days, they were forced to wake up earlier, to cram onto buses and subways to get to work on time. The perks were gone. They couldn’t leave early and make up the time later. And now, the pressure of performance reviews loomed over them. The office, once a place of relaxed camaraderie, was now filled with grumbling and complaints. “Performance quotas? I’m screwed. I haven’t even hit my target for this month.” “You think he’s doing this on purpose? He made that grand promise about the $850,000, and now he’s trying to push us all out so he can keep it for himself.” “It’s possible. I’ve already been late six times. That’s three hundred bucks gone. Any more and I’ll be eating instant noodles for a month.” Suddenly, one of them slammed his fist on his desk. “Just you wait. If he’s going to make our lives hell, we’ll make his hell, too.” … I switched off the security feed. I’d seen enough. A few days later, I got another call from the Department of Labor. They had reported me again, this time for the new policies. I calmly submitted the new company handbook and the surveillance footage of employees clocking in and out. “Following your previous warning, we immediately revised our policies to be in line with industry standards,” I explained. “We now have performance reviews and mandatory clock-ins.” “All salaries are now calculated based on a fixed formula: base pay plus performance bonuses.” After confirming everything was in order, they ended the call. My employees, who had been eagerly awaiting my downfall, were gathered outside, gossiping. “Hey, you think he’s getting chewed out right now?” “Serves him right for docking our pay. He needs to learn he can’t just push us around.” “Damn right. And he pocketed our $850,000 bonus. I was counting on that for my mortgage payment.” Amid the chorus of agreement, one voice spoke up hesitantly. “I don’t know, guys. Reporting him behind his back seems kind of wrong. And the new rules are just like any other company’s. The old policies were actually great for us. Why did you guys have to report him?” The group immediately turned on him, calling him a corporate bootlicker. He fell silent and retreated to his desk. The others continued their chatter. Until I walked out of my office and stood before them. “It seems,” I said, my voice carrying across the suddenly silent office, “that everyone is quite displeased with me.” The chatter stopped. Eyes widened. They scrambled to their feet. “Boss! What are you doing out here?” “Hey, boss!” They plastered on fake smiles and crowded around me. Did they think I was deaf? I held up my phone and played the surveillance video of them bad-mouthing me. They froze. I was shocked. The one who was always kissing up to me, Leo Vance, was the one leading the charge. And the quietest one, David Chen, the one who always just did his work, was the only one who had defended me. “Boss, we were just joking around, and besides…” “You’re fired,” I said, looking directly at Leo. “Wh-what…?” He couldn’t believe it. I ignored him and walked over to David’s desk. “David, come with me.” I promoted David to Sales Manager. Leo’s position. When the news broke, Leo stormed into my office. “On what grounds are you giving my job to David? Just because I said a few things?” “Weren’t you the one who said we had freedom of speech in this company?” I looked at him coldly. “That was before.” “If you want to stay, then stay. If not, get out.” I had no mercy left for people like him. “You can’t fire me!” he roared. “I can,” I said flatly. “I’m the boss.” He slammed his fist on my desk and stormed out. His resignation was on my desk within the hour. The next morning, my name was all over the internet. My assistant frantically sent me the link. I clicked on it. The headline read: 【MY LIFE AS A CORPORATE SLAVE UNDER A PSYCHO BOSS】 In the video, Leo didn’t just attack my policies; he slandered my character, twisting the truth into a grotesque caricature. “You guys will not believe this,” he began, his voice thick with fake emotion. “I’ve worked at this company for five years. I’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it. The company made millions, and the $850,000 bonus he promised us? Vanished into thin air. Not only that, but this psycho boss is using every dirty trick in the book to force us out.” “He’s pushed me to the brink. I had no choice but to resign.” In the video, Leo was a mess of tears and snot, painting a picture of a long-suffering martyr. It worked. The sympathy of fellow 9-to-5ers poured in. “OMG, that’s horrible! What company is this? Name and shame so we can avoid it!” “As a fellow worker, I feel this in my soul. These evil capitalists, what do they think we are, their slaves?” “Don’t worry, man. A company like that will go bankrupt soon enough.” … Tens of thousands of comments flooded the post. It went viral. Because of Leo’s video, my company was hit with a tidal wave of negative press. Our stock plummeted. Our reputation was in tatters. And Leo? He was thriving. He launched a live-streaming channel. He’d become an influencer. The viral video had gained him a massive following. He started selling products on his stream. “Sir, we tried contacting Leo,” my assistant reported. “He won’t pick up.” “He says you have to call him personally.” My patience was gone. “Sue him,” I told her. A few minutes later, Leo received the legal notice from the court. He immediately went live, crying to his audience again. “Guys, please, stop talking about my old boss and company in the comments. They’re going to sue me! I’m so scared! Oh no, please don’t come and get me!” Then his expression shifted into a smug, punchable grin. The comments section exploded. 【That’s right, stick it to him! Teach him not to mess with the working class!】 【Exactly! He thinks he can bully us?】 【Don’t be afraid, man. You already quit. What can he do to you?】 As the video’s popularity grew, and with Leo’s daily attacks, the company became a public enemy. The internet was flooded with posts trashing us. Some people even started protesting outside our office building. I finally called Leo myself. He let it ring for a long time before picking up with a lazy, “Yeah?” The fawning respect was completely gone. “Take down the post. Kill the trend. Issue a public clarification.” “Or you will regret this.” He just laughed. “Regret it? Mr. Sterling, I’m a huge influencer now. I could ruin your company with a few words. I think you’re the one who’s going to have regrets. Tell you what. You come to my studio right now, get on your knees, and apologize. Then maybe I’ll come back.” “Oh, and I’ll need triple my old salary. After all,” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance, “I’m a big deal now.” “Unbelievable!” I immediately instructed my assistant to have the PR department release a statement. But the moment it was posted, it was swarmed by Leo’s mindless fans. 【No performance reviews? Flexible hours? Who are you kidding? It’s obviously a soul-sucking sweatshop.】 【Yeah, right. You think we’re stupid? A capitalist is a capitalist.】 A moment later, my assistant came back. The post had been mass-reported and taken down. Worse, a mob of “righteous” netizens and reporters had surrounded our building. I gathered my remaining employees to go down and explain. The moment we stepped out of the lobby, we were swarmed. The air filled with insults. “Soulless boss! How do you sleep at night, getting rich off your employees’ sweat and blood?” “The company makes millions, but you can’t even spare a few hundred thousand for bonuses? You’re not human!” “Compensation! Compensate your employees now!” Reporters shoved cameras and microphones in my face. “Mr. Sterling, your former employee has claimed that you arbitrarily deduct wages and intentionally force employees out to avoid paying bonuses. Is this true?” “Mr. Sterling, we’ve heard that you demoted him and publicly humiliated him to avoid paying his salary. Can you comment?” “Mr. Sterling—” “None of that is true!” I roared. The crowd fell silent for a second. “Before this year, we paid out bonuses every single year. We’ve always shared 85% of the company’s profits with our employees, ever since we were founded. And our profits aren’t in the millions! This year, it was one million dollars.” “And I was going to give them $850,000 of it.” My words were met with jeers. “But you didn’t, did you? Stop with the fake charity!” “Yeah, talk is cheap!” “You dock pay for being a minute late, but you expect us to believe you’d give out bonuses? Only a fool would believe that.” “I didn’t dock their pay without reason! You can ask my employees!” I said, turning to the staff behind me. But they weren’t there. Leo had appeared at some point, and my employees were now standing with him. A reporter went over to them. “Is what your boss just said true?” Without a moment’s hesitation, they shook their heads. “They’ve used all sorts of excuses to dock my pay,” one said, playing the victim. “I’ve lost almost half my salary this month.” “Me too,” said another. Leo stepped forward, the picture of righteous indignation. “We are standing up today to fight for a better working environment for everyone! We shouldn’t have to live in fear of having our pay deducted, bound by all these ridiculous rules!” “Yeah! That’s right!” a cheer went up from the crowd. It was as if I was some irredeemable supervillain, and they were the heroes of justice. I laughed. “I admit it. I didn’t pay out the $850,000.” “See! See! What did I tell you?” “Still trying to act like a saint.” “But—” I paused, looking at the crowd. “There was a reason for it. If you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe this.” I took out my phone, pulled up the surveillance video from a few days ago, and hit play. The sound of their own voices filled the air. The crowd, which had been jeering moments before, fell silent.

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David returned from his business trip and slid a velvet box across the marble table. Inside nestled a pink diamond. My fingertips trembled slightly, but I kept my voice casual. “You’ve always only bid on top-tier Pigeon Blood rubies. Since when did you develop a taste for pink diamonds?” The hand loosening his tie froze. He snatched the box back, forcing a laugh. “Wrong one. That’s for Phillip. He asked me to pick up an engagement ring for his girlfriend.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his tone dripping with practiced tenderness. “Only the finest rubies are worthy of you, Evelyn. I’ll make it up to you next time.” A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. The next day, I bumped into Phillip’s girlfriend at a charity gala. Feigning casual conversation, I smiled. “Congratulations, I hear bells are ringing. You must save me a glass of champagne at the wedding.” She froze, her face draining of color. “Evelyn… Phillip and I broke up five months ago.” 1 The smile on my face stiffened into a mask. My heart missed a beat. I was reaching for my phone to demand an explanation from David when a girl in a simple white cotton dress walked into the high-end restaurant. She looked woefully out of place among the designer suits and silk gowns, her voice barely a whisper. “Hello, I’m here to pick up Mr. Sterling’s lunch order.” Mr. Sterling. David. I instinctively looked over. Our eyes met, and panic flashed through hers. She quickly averted her gaze and stammered to the waiter, “Actually, never mind. I’m the new intern at Sterling Corp. Mr. Sterling just messaged me with another task. Please deliver the lunch directly to the office tower.” Clutching her phone like a lifeline, she turned and hurried toward the exit. I stared at her retreating figure. She was quick on her feet, I’ll give her that. Claiming to be an intern. But she made a fatal mistake. David never hired female secretaries or personal assistants. And why would a regular intern be picking up his personal lunch? More importantly—why did she look at me with recognition? Realization hit me cold and hard. I grabbed my bag and followed her. She sensed me behind her, her pace quickening to a near run. Luck wasn’t on her side; not a single taxi was stopping. I stood right behind her, watching the sweat mat the baby hairs at her temples. finally, she couldn’t take the pressure. She spun around, biting her lip. “Excuse me, do you need a cab too? If you’re in a rush, you can take the first one.” She couldn’t even meet my eyes. I curved my lips into a faint smile, my gaze dropping to her hand. There it was. A top-tier Pigeon Blood ruby ring, a vintage design from the British Royal collection. It was exactly my taste. Back in university, David had sworn he would buy every ruby in the world for me. He said I was his sun, the most vibrant treasure in his life. And this girl? There was no way she could afford a piece like that on an intern’s salary. Noticing my stare, she hid her hand behind her back. “Staring is rude. If you don’t stop, I’ll call the police!” She was trying to muster anger to cover her fear. I laughed softly. “My apologies. I just have a weakness for rubies. Seeing a Royal collection piece in the wild… I got mesmerized.” I stepped closer. “I followed you because I recognized that ring from a recent London auction. Which family are you from? I don’t recall seeing you at the debutante balls.” She forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “I am… I…” She couldn’t get the words out. “I’m Evelyn Sterling. David Sterling’s wife. I’d love to make a new friend.” I extended my hand. Cornered, she had no choice. Her hand trembled as she took mine. “Daisy. Daisy Brooks.” Got her. I nodded politely, turned on my heel, and hailed the black town car that had just pulled up. The moment the heavy door clicked shut, my face dropped. I dialed my best friend, Harper. “I need a background check. Name is Daisy Brooks. Likely a fresh college grad.” “Also, pull David’s credit card statements from his trip to London. I want to know exactly what he bought at that charity auction.” Harper sounded groggy on the other end, woken from her beauty sleep. “Evie? What happened?” I pressed my lips together, tasting bitterness. “I think David is keeping a pet student on the side.” Two hours later, the dossier landed in my inbox. David’s paper trail was meticulous. Daisy Brooks was a scholarship student funded by my charity foundation. David had invested in a “startup studio” for her. Every penny went through corporate accounts, handled by the foundation’s staff. On paper, they had zero contact. Just a benevolent donor and a lucky recipient. And the ruby ring? The records showed it was won by a foreign buyer, not David. But my grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. The one thing she lied about was being a Sterling Corp intern. I texted Harper again: “Check the annual investment amount. And find out if she has any other sponsors.” I stared out the window at the concrete jungle of New York. There are no coincidences in this world. David, if I find out you’ve actually betrayed me… I will take fifteen years of history and five years of marriage and grind them into dust with my own hands. 2 That evening, David came home with my favorite strawberry tart from the French bakery downtown. He pulled me into a hug, burying his face in my neck. “Darling, staying up late working on designs again? You work too hard. Maybe you should skip the competition this year.” He sounded so genuinely concerned. But as he kissed my hair, I caught his eyes drifting toward my computer screen. My heart plummeted. “Why?” I looked up, feigning innocence, my finger tracing the innovative setting on the digital blueprint. “The ‘Solaris’ collection has been my baby for six months. You used to say I was radiant as the dawn. This collection is my fifth-anniversary gift to you.” David’s arm tightened around me. “I’m just worried about your health. You’ve been feeling under the weather lately. Awards don’t matter. You matter.” He kissed my forehead. His breath was warm, but beneath his expensive cologne, I caught it—the faint, cloying scent of gardenias. The same cheap perfume Daisy wore. Worried about my health? Bullshit. I gently pushed him away, picking up a spoon. The sweet cream tasted like ash in my mouth. “Well, if you’re that worried… I suppose I don’t have to enter under my own name…” He missed the sarcasm entirely. His eyes lit up with relief. “Exactly. Once you’re rested, we can try for a baby. Evelyn, we’ve been married five years. It’s time we had a family.” He glanced at my screen one last time before heading to the shower. I stared at the single bite taken out of the tart, a dull ache spreading through my chest. The next morning, Harper sent another file. “Daisy has no other backers. Sterling Corp gives her a stipend of $150k a year.” “But here’s the kicker: She’s registered for the ‘A-List Design Awards.’ Her studio doesn’t have the capital or resources to produce a full high-jewelry set. If something fishy is going on, David will make a move soon.” I put a tracker on David’s movements. Three days later, during his lunch break, he went to my private vault where I stored my raw gemstones. Then, he drove straight to Daisy’s shabby studio apartment. When I checked the vault later, a raw, uncut ruby the size of an infant’s fist was gone. Along with a set of rare yellow diamonds. He wasn’t just giving her the ring that was meant for me. He was tearing up the pavement of my road to pave hers. The last shred of hope in my heart withered and died. I sent the photos to Harper and told her to prep the lawyers. Harper was livid. “That little rat. She can’t design to save her life—I’ve seen her portfolio. It’s trash compared to yours. Evie, we are going to destroy her at the awards. We’ll make sure she never works in this town again.” A sudden, sickening thought struck me. I stood up so fast my chair tipped over. I grabbed my keys and raced home. The villa was silent. I crept toward my home office. The door was ajar. No one was there. My computer was cold, but the ergonomic chair was adjusted to a different height. I sat down and booted up the system. Ruby and yellow diamonds… Exact matches for the materials needed for the first piece in my “Solaris” collection. I frowned. Was I being paranoid? Then my eyes swept across the desk and locked onto something that made my blood freeze. The silver frame holding a photo of David and me had been knocked face down. And right there, on the polished mahogany desk where the frame used to stand, was a smudge. A handprint. Small. Delicate. Fingers curled inward, as if gripping the edge of the desk in… ecstasy. I stared at the mark. I scrubbed at it with my sleeve, but it felt like it was burned into the wood. They were here. On my desk. Stealing my designs, laughing at me, faking love, and fucking right on top of my work. My stomach violently rebelled. I stumbled into the en-suite bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet, heaving until there was nothing left but bitter bile. I splashed freezing water on my face, staring at the ghost in the mirror, forcing myself to wake up.

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1 I made the mistake of eating a slice of cake the intern had baked for my wife, Claire. Claire frowned, disgusted. She dragged me to the hospital and forced the doctors to pump my stomach three times. The procedure was so violent it destroyed my stomach lining. To save my life, they had to perform a partial gastrectomy—removing two-thirds of my stomach. Now, I survived on liquid diets. Within weeks, I was nothing but skin and bones. Claire didn’t care. I watched her hand-feed steak to Rob, the intern, wiping sauce from his lip with her thumb. When I asked her, eyes red and stinging, why she treated me this way, she looked at me with pure disdain. “You ate the cake Rob made for me with his own hands. Consider this a lesson.” So, Rob was that important to her. And I was nothing. Fine. If that’s how it is, I’ll leave. I’ll let them have each other. … After the surgery, my body was a wreck. Because I couldn’t absorb nutrients properly, dizzy spells became my new normal. I hadn’t even fully recovered, yet I was alone in the office, working overtime to fix a critical error in the company’s data. Suddenly, the incision site in my abdomen began to throb with blinding pain. I scrambled for the painkillers on my desk, shaking the bottle. Empty. The office was a tomb. Even security had clocked out for the night. Desperate and sweating, I called Claire. She hung up on me three times. On the fourth try, she finally answered. “Claire… I… my stomach is burning. Please, can you bring me the prescription painkillers from the house?” I was gasping for air, trying to talk through the agony. Claire let out a sharp tsk. “You are unbelievable.” It was an emergency. The pharmacies were closed. “Claire, please. Just this once.” There was a two-second silence. Then, Rob’s voice floated through the speaker, bright and mocking. “Liam, come on. Why are you such a buzzkill? You had to pick my birthday dinner to bother Claire?” “And the stomach thing? Your surgery was days ago. Can’t you come up with a better excuse for attention?” I gritted my teeth. “Claire, I’m only here working overtime to save your company’s biggest project. I just need the medicine. That’s it.” I knew the answer before she spoke, but a pathetic part of me still hoped. I remembered when we first started dating. She had a high fever, 104 degrees. I ran through a thunderstorm to get her medicine, nearly getting hit by a car in the process. I never complained. I just wanted her to be okay. Claire took the phone back. Her voice was ice. “Rob is alone in this city. He has no family. He shouldn’t spend his birthday alone.” “He’s just a kid, Liam. I’m celebrating with him. Your scar hurts a little? Grow up. It’s not life-threatening.” “But… it really hurts,” I whispered. Cold sweat had soaked through my dress shirt. “Figure it out yourself. Stop being a burden.” Click. The line went dead. Another call with my wife, another knife in my back. The pain was so intense I started dry heaving, clutching the trash can, but nothing came out except bile. The room spun. Still, I forced myself to sit up. I hit ‘Save’ on the project proposal. This file was my life’s blood—the result of months of grueling research. The moment the progress bar hit 100%, my body gave out. I collapsed onto the office floor and blacked out. I don’t know how long I lay there. When I opened my eyes, morning sunlight was harsh against my face. The pain had dulled to a throb. I reached for my phone to call an ambulance, but a notification from Rob popped up on my feed. Received the best gift ever. Thank you, Claire! <3 The photo showed a brand new Porsche 911. Value: at least $200,000. I remembered asking for a sensible sedan last year for my commute. Claire refused, citing "budget cuts" and "frugality." I still didn't have my own car. Yet she handed a luxury sports car to an intern like it was candy. No one liked or commented on Rob’s post. It was obvious he had set the privacy settings so only I would see it. I closed the app, laughing bitterly at myself. Immediately, a message from Rob arrived. "Did you see it, Liam?" "Everything I want, I get. I honestly pity you. You've been wagging your tail around Claire for so long, but you're less than a dog to her." "It’s embarrassing. If I were you, I’d crawl into a hole and die." Rage flared in my chest, but I pushed it down. I didn't have the energy to fight a boy toy. The priority was the project. This new drug formulation was my ticket out. The bonus alone would be enough to sustain me for years after I filed for divorce. I pulled myself into my chair and woke up my computer. My desktop was empty. The file—my proposal, my data, my research—was gone. Panic set in. I searched every drive, every folder. Nothing. Wiped clean. Ding. A message from Claire. "Meeting in five minutes. Major announcement." My head was pounding. A bad feeling settled in my gut, heavier than the missing piece of my stomach. Claire walked into the conference room five minutes later. Rob was right beside her, holding a thick leather-bound folder. He looked at me, his eyes dancing with malicious triumph. "Let’s give a round of applause for Rob," Claire announced, her voice projecting authority. "After three months of tireless work, he has finalized the proposal for the new synthetic drug." "I’ve reviewed his data. It’s flawless. Once the FDA approves this, we go straight to production." "Congratulations, Rob. Hard work pays off." Applause erupted. Rob stood up, bowing theatrically, soaking in the praise. My ears were ringing. A high-pitched whine drowned out the clapping. Rob began his presentation. He was reading my words. Explaining my formulas. That was my work. My life. I fought through the nausea and slammed my hand on the table. "That is my proposal!" The room went silent. The executives stared at me. Claire frowned, looking at me like I was a stain on the carpet. "Sit down, Liam. You’re making a scene." Rob, the thief, didn't even flinch. He played the victim instantly. "Just because you say it's yours doesn't make it true, Liam." "Mr. Sterling, I know you're senior to me, but you can't bully a rookie just because you're older." "I spent three months not sleeping, losing my hair over this data, and you just want to claim it?" He sniffled, his eyes glistening. "Claire, I’m just a fresh graduate. I know I don't have his status, but he can't just erase my hard work!" Claire immediately softened. She reached out and wiped a tear from his cheek in front of the entire board. It was intimate. Disgusting. The executives turned on me. "Liam, that’s low. Trying to steal credit from a kid?" "I thought you had integrity. Clearly, I was wrong." "Jealousy is an ugly look on you." I looked around the room. Accusing eyes everywhere. No one saw the dark circles under my eyes, the weight I’d lost for this company. My throat tickled, and I hacked out a dry cough. Claire glanced at me, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. "Does no one see what I’ve done?" I rasped, my voice breaking. "No one wanted this project. I took it. I built it from nothing. And now you let him steal it?" "If it's yours," Rob challenged, "prove it." "Where are your drafts? Your search history? Your download logs? Even a timestamp on your computer?" He knew. He knew my computer had been wiped. "I sent a draft to Claire," I said, desperate. I looked at my wife. "Claire, last week. I emailed you the preliminary data. Check your inbox. Prove to them it’s mine." Claire looked at me. Then she looked away. The room waited. Finally, she spoke. "I do have a draft in my inbox." I exhaled. Thank God. "But," she continued, her voice flat, "that draft came from Rob. Not you." "What?" I stood up, swaying. "That’s a lie! You asked to see my progress! I sent it to you!" Rob smirked. "Stop lying, Liam. It’s pathetic. Claire already confirmed it." "Show us a screenshot then," he goaded. "Unless you don't have one?" I didn't. My phone had been remotely wiped and reset while I was passed out. My laptop was clean. I looked at Claire, pleading with my eyes. Five years of marriage. Doesn't that mean anything? Claire didn't flinch. She drove the final nail into the coffin. "The timestamps confirm Rob is the author." "Rob was top of his class at university. I entrusted this project to him secretly months ago. He delivered." "As for Liam... I suspect he is jealous of Rob's natural talent. He’s refusing to accept that he’s been surpassed." In three sentences, she branded me a plagiarist and a failure. "Claire," I whispered, ignoring the room. "Do you care so little about our marriage?" She turned her cold gaze on me. "Mr. Sterling looks tired. Since your stomach still hurts, take a leave of absence. Indefinitely." "But... my drug..." "The drug? Rob will handle the production phase. You aren't needed." I collapsed back into my chair. Defeated. The meeting ended. They all left for a celebratory lunch at a five-star hotel. They fawned over Rob like he was the messiah of pharmaceuticals. I sat alone in the empty conference room all afternoon, stomach cramping, trying not to vomit air. That night, I dragged myself home. Claire wasn't there. My phone pinged. A message from an unknown number. "Pick me up. Room 3023, The Ritz." It was Claire's tone. I drove to the hotel, exhausted. I walked down the plush corridor to room 3023. Before I could knock, I heard it. "You're so beautiful, Claire..." Rob’s voice. Followed by giggles and the unmistakable sounds of skin on skin. My hand froze in mid-air. I stood there for an eternity until the sounds died down. Then, I forced myself to ring the doorbell. Rob opened the door. He was wearing nothing but a towel. Behind him, clothes were scattered across the floor—a trail of infidelity leading to the bed. "Oh, Liam. You’re here," he said casually. "Claire had too much wine. I was just taking care of her." The rage I felt was so potent I thought my stitches would burst. I wanted to smash his face in. "Shh," he put a finger to his lips. "She finally fell asleep. Don't wake her." I looked past him. Claire was sleeping soundly in the king-sized bed. "Come outside," I hissed. We went to the hotel bar downstairs. It was empty. "You sent the message, didn't you?" I asked. "And you wiped my computer." Rob took a sip of water, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Guilty. But you missed the point." "What point?" He laughed. A cruel, barking sound. "You’re so slow. Didn't you realize? Claire allowed all of it." "The theft, the wiping of the data... she orchestrated it. She told me the day I was hired that she’d give me a flagship project to launch my career." My blood ran cold. It had been a setup from the start. "Why?" I choked out. "Why do this to me?" "Why? Look in a mirror," Rob sneered. "Claire only married you because you looked like her first love. The one who died." "But now I’m here. I’m younger, better. You’re just a fading copy of a dead man. You have no value." "Well, except one value: doing the grunt work so I could put my name on it." I felt like I had been gutted all over again. I knew I resembled her ex, but hearing it weaponized like this was agonizing. "You stole the file," I said, my voice shaking, "but you didn't steal the core algorithm. The encryption key is in my head. We’ll see who wins." Rob laughed again, hugging his chest. "The core tech? Liam, you are so naive. Claire knew you’d say that." He tossed a manila envelope onto the table. "Take a look. We have everything. Your passwords, your encryption keys, your private backups. Claire lived with you for years. She knows your habits better than you do." I opened the folder with trembling hands. It was all there. Every safeguard I had built was dismantled. Just then, footsteps approached. Claire walked into the bar, looking refreshed. I looked up at her, heartbreak washing over me. "Claire... this was my life's work." She couldn't meet my eyes. She looked at the floor, then hardened her expression. "It’s for the good of the company, Liam." "Rob is the future. He has the charisma to sell this. You don't." "It gives him a head start in the industry." I let out a broken laugh. "For Rob. Everything is for Rob. Five years of marriage... am I worth less than dust to you?" "What am I to you, Claire?" She stopped pretending. She shrugged. "It’s just a patent, Liam. Haven't I given you three years of my youth? Isn't that payment enough?" "If you're going to be difficult, I'll pay you off. But the project belongs to Rob. Don't fight me on this." Rob waved his hand dismissively. "Claire, send him away. He’s depressing to look at." Claire pulled a bank card from her purse and flicked it at me. It hit my chest and clattered to the floor. "Severance. Take it and leave the company. Your presence makes Rob uncomfortable." I bent down and picked up the card. It felt heavy. "One last question," I said softly. "Are you really throwing away everything we had?" "Yes." Her voice was razor-sharp. "From the moment Rob walked in, you became obsolete. You were just a placeholder." That broke the last chain binding me to her. "Fine. I’ll go." I walked out of the hotel into the cold night air. I had lost my job, my wife, my health, and my creation. But as I stood on the curb, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a business card I had kept hidden for months. I dialed the number. "Ms. Vanguard? It’s Liam Sterling. I’m ready to join you."

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The day I discovered my husband had a secret three-year-old son, I rigged the gas main in our villa. I intended to light a match the moment he walked through the door and take us both to hell. But that night, Neo didn’t come home. Instead, for the first time, I felt the baby kick. In that split second, the desire to die vanished. I took the most expensive car in the garage, drove to the edge of the property, and triggered the explosion remotely. Bathed in the orange glow of the flames, I drove straight to the airport. From that night on, the Mrs. Gu—Anna—who had become the laughingstock of New York’s elite, ceased to exist. Five years later, we met again in the lobby of a historic inn in a quiet riverside town. He stared at me as I politely handed him a room key, his eyes losing focus. “Anna? You look… different.” I didn’t answer. I simply smiled—a practiced, hollow curve of the lips—and wished his family of three a pleasant stay. 1. The key card hovered in the air between us. Neo didn’t move to take it. My wrist began to ache from holding the pose. I cleared my throat. “Mr. Gu, your key.” “I’ll take it, babe.” A gentle, melodic voice drifted from behind him, shattering the frozen tension. It was his lawfully wedded wife, Mindy. My gaze snagged on the massive diamond—the size of a pigeon’s egg—glittering on her ring finger before colliding with her beautiful eyes. The same eyes that had haunted my nightmares for years. “Didn’t I tell you to wait on the sofa? You never listen. You make me worry.” Neo’s reaction was instinctual. He took her purse, his arm circling her waist protectively. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead, his voice dripping with a tenderness I had never known. “Good, the fever’s down.” “You must be exhausted. Take our son upstairs to rest. I’ll go out and buy you some hot soup.” Mindy leaned into his chest, her smile widening as she glanced at me. It was a look of pure assessment. “Okay. I’ll wait for you.” I averted my eyes as they embraced. At that moment, a delivery driver walked in, struggling with a heavy shipment of cat litter. While I was checking the order on the tablet, Neo had already bent down and hoisted the box. “I’ve got it. Where does it go?” “Don’t bother.” I reached out to take it, deliberately stepping back to create a chasm of distance between us. I glanced at his bespoke Italian suit, now dusted with grime from the box. I turned to the register, pulled out two bills, and held them out. “Dry cleaning fee. Take it.” “No, I offered to help.” Neo reached out to stop me. His fingertips grazed my wrist, and I recoiled as if burned. His hand froze in mid-air. His voice dropped, thick with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Really, Anna. Keep it. I have to go.” He turned sharply, nearly colliding with Bella, my young employee, who was returning with a bag of roasted chestnuts. Bella watched his retreating figure, eyes wide. She grabbed my arm, practically vibrating with excitement. “Anna! Wasn’t that Neo Gu? The tech mogul from New York? God, he’s gorgeous in person!” “I saw his interview in Forbes. Self-made billionaire, and every third sentence was about his late wife. Powerful and devoted? That’s a unicorn right there.” A few guests in the lobby chimed in, nodding eagerly. “Right? I heard his ex-wife was insane. She supposedly attacked people with a knife. Belonged in jail, honestly.” “He was too soft-hearted. Gave her a massive settlement and only divorced her when he couldn’t take the abuse anymore.” Hearing the slander again, after five years, I felt nothing. My heart was a stagnant pool of dead water. Only the jagged scar on the web of my hand began to throb. 2. I rubbed my thumb over the centipede-like scar between my thumb and forefinger. The memories flooded back, unbidden. Neo wasn’t always a titan of industry. Once, he was just the charity case at our prep school, bullied for his poverty. I remembered a winter day, freezing cold. A group of rich heirs had cornered him in an alley. Blood streamed down his forehead, staining his threadbare uniform crimson. I was the one who grabbed a piece of lumber and charged in to save him. In the chaos, a broken bottle sliced my hand open. It tore down to the bone. Twelve stitches. Neo had tried to sneak out of the emergency room. I chased him down, only to realize his pockets were empty. He didn’t even have the money for the copay. He had an alcoholic father and a mother struggling with severe mental illness. From that day on, I became his shield. He remained silent, brooding, but he would stay late after school to help me with advanced calculus. The year we graduated, he got into an Ivy League university on a full academic ride, but he almost didn’t go because he couldn’t afford the room and board. I begged my father to sponsor him. When he started his first company during senior year, the same rich bullies tried to crush him with lawsuits. My father intervened, brought Neo into our family business, and mentored him. Neo had a terrifying gift for business. Complex data streams that gave others headaches made perfect sense to him at a glance. I used to sit beside him, chin in my hand, watching his profile as he worked. My eyes were full of hero worship. My father saw right through me. Even knowing Neo only felt gratitude towards me, he funded Neo’s startup after graduation. Within a year, Neo Gu was a name to be reckoned with in New York. Later, when my mother fell ill and my father made risky investments to pay for experimental treatments, our family company teetered on the brink of bankruptcy. It was Neo who stepped in and saved us. My father used to say, “Neo is our benefactor now. The debts are paid. Let him live his life.” But Neo knelt before my father, his expression solemn, swearing an oath. “Sir, I can never repay what you’ve done. Please, give Anna to me. I will take care of her for the rest of my life. She will never suffer, not for a second.” The old scar on my hand pulsed again. I looked down at the ugly, raised skin and felt a bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. Humans are so tragically naive. We mistake gratitude for love every single time. After that, I didn’t even need a formal title. I acted like Mrs. Gu. I spent time at his office, silently marking my territory. Neo never objected. He even let me interview his personal assistants. “Just pick a sharp guy,” he’d said. But the day of the interviews, my eyes landed on Mindy’s resume. It was average. Single, divorced, no kids. But her eyes. They were identical to Neo’s late mother’s eyes. Neo’s mother, in her lucid moments, had been the only light in his dark childhood. So, I didn’t ask questions. I hired Mindy. When Neo saw her, he lost his composure. His eyes turned red. That night, he held me, trembling, whispering thank you over and over. I felt sorry for him. I invited Mindy to our home for dinner. I created opportunities for them to bond, thinking I was helping heal his childhood trauma. I didn’t know I was digging my own grave. 3. The gossiping crowd dispersed. I shook off the memories and picked up a framed photo of my daughter, wiping a speck of dust from the glass. Bella, munching on a chestnut, leaned over the counter. “Anna, these remainders are still warm. Why don’t you ever eat them? They’re delicious.” My hand froze on the frame. The pain hit me like a physical blow. My mother and I used to love roasted chestnuts. Every winter, my father would bring home a paper bag of them, steaming hot. Mom would peel them, blow on them to cool them down, and feed them to me. The year Mom was dying, in a moment of terminal lucidity, she whispered that she wanted chestnuts. Dad drove out into a blizzard to buy them. Halfway back, the hospital called to say she was crashing. In his panic, he sped up. He hydroplaned into an oncoming semi-truck. He died instantly. The bag of chestnuts, still hot, was found scattered across the icy asphalt, stained with my father’s blood. That snowy day, I lost both of my parents. Bella listened to the silence, her eyes tearing up. She realized she’d stepped on a landmine. She pushed the bag away, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Anna… I’m so sorry. Lily and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll always be with you.” “Lily gets out of school soon. Maybe we can take a walk by the river tonight…” She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes locked onto the photo of my daughter, then widened in shock. “Anna… Lily’s father… the one who disappeared… is it…?” I nodded once. Bella wrestled with herself for a moment before asking, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. “Then… the rumors… Anna, how much did you have to endure?” I paused. A sudden sting in my nose threatened tears, but I blinked them away. I smiled. Actually, we had a few sweet years. The day my parents died, Neo proposed to me. He brought a lawyer to the funeral home and signed over all his shares in his company to me. He knelt on one knee, swearing he would give me a new home, a new family. He begged me to stop crying because it was breaking his heart. When I fainted from grief, he handled the double funeral arrangements himself. We eloped. No wedding, just plain bands we’d bought during college. I was content. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive. I poured my soul into Neo. I knew he was busy building an empire, so I asked for nothing. If he worked late, I left a light on. If he traveled, I packed his bags. And for a while, he didn’t disappoint. New York was envious of how he doted on me. The billboards in Times Square, the front pages of society papers—he used them all to declare his love. “I love Anna” was his public mantra. Just as I was finally healing from the loss of my parents, drowning in his affection, the news broke. Billionaire Gu Caught in Affair. The photos were clear. Neo and Mindy, embracing in the rooftop garden of a revolving restaurant. Kissing. It was my birthday. I had cooked a feast of his favorite dishes. I was wearing the dress he bought me. I waited all night. Every time I called, he answered, voice tender: “I’m in a meeting, baby. Be good. I’ll be home soon.” Mindy had even sent me a gift that day—a jewelry set bought with her year-end bonus. The card read: Happy Birthday to my best friend. That night, surrounded by cold food and “happiness,” I thought I had everything. I didn’t know the two people I loved most were holding the knife behind my back. 4. When I saw the news, I snapped. I got in my car and drove like a maniac, tears blurring the road. I almost crashed twice. I didn’t care. I just wanted answers. I screeched to a halt in front of the restaurant just as Neo was opening the car door for Mindy like a gentleman. I ripped my door open and sprinted toward them. Neo instinctively stepped in front of Mindy, shielding her. His eyes were cold, devoid of guilt. “Anna, what the hell are you doing causing a scene here?” Mindy peeked out from behind him, smiling sweetly. “Hi, Anna.” Around her pale neck hung a ruby necklace—one I had admired for months but felt was too extravagant to buy. Right next to the ruby, a dark hickey bloomed on her skin. It stung my eyes more than the gem. I lunged at her, screaming. “I treated you like a sister! I gave you everything! Why?!” Mindy started sobbing, shrinking into Neo’s arms, but her eyes danced with triumph. Neo shoved me. Hard. Then he turned to check on Mindy, his voice soft, cooing at her tears. I fell to the pavement, clutching my stomach as a sharp cramp seized me. I watched them hold each other, and my heart shattered. Neo turned back to scold me, but then he froze. Blood was pooling beneath my dress. I miscarried. Our first child, killed by his hand. He took me to the hospital. He sat by my bed, looking just as devastated and loving as he used to. He apologized a thousand times. “Anna, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I promise, I will never hurt you again.” I slapped him. I clawed at him. I screamed that he was a monster. He took it all silently, eyes red. “Don’t agitate yourself,” he whispered. “Your health comes first.” But I wasn’t done. I screamed that I would destroy Mindy. That was when Neo’s face changed. He slapped me across the face. His voice was ice. “Anna, if you touch a hair on her head, I will make you wish you were dead.” Seeing him protect the mistress ignited a hatred in me that burned hotter than love ever did. After that day, he stopped visiting. He paraded Mindy around town openly. My phone was flooded with photos of them in bed, sent by anonymous numbers, accompanied by vile insults. I smashed everything in our penthouse. I burned our wedding album. When my body healed, I called in every favor my father had left behind. I blacklisted Mindy from every industry in the city. I leaked the details of the affair to the press. For a week, Mindy was a pariah. Then Neo retaliated. He locked me in a hotel room for months. He tied me to the bed. He forced himself on me, recording my screams and my breakdowns, careful to blur his own face. He leaked the videos. Overnight, the narrative flipped. Mindy was the victim of a crazy woman. I became the “deranged wife,” the “slut,” the joke of New York. My friends abandoned me. My father’s old company, which had been hanging by a thread, lost its last investors because of my reputation. It went bankrupt. The day my dignity was completely destroyed, Neo let me go. I was hollowed out by hate. I took a knife and marched into his headquarters. I managed to slash Mindy’s arm and graze Neo’s shoulder before security tackled me. While I was pinned to the floor, screaming like a banshee, Neo sat at his desk and signed the papers to sell my father’s company for pennies on the dollar. My father’s legacy, gone. I begged him to stop. I invoked my father’s name, the man who saved him from the streets. Neo looked down at me with pure contempt. “Anna, that debt was paid the moment I kept the company afloat this long. You hurt Mindy. Now I’m going to take my time destroying you.” That was the day I saw their son, Mason. He was already walking. I realized then that their affair hadn’t started recently. It started the moment I hired her. My lack of a wedding, my cheap ring—it wasn’t thriftiness. It was Neo saving money for her. Even the “I Love Anna” billboards? Mindy booked the ad space. It was all a smokescreen to protect their little family while I played the fool. That night, I rigged the gas line. I wanted to end it all. But then, the nausea hit. I took a test. Pregnant again. Hope is a dangerous thing. It cut through the darkness. I triggered the explosion to fake my death and vanished into the night. Bella was sobbing into her sleeve. I wiped her tears and walked to the door to wait for the kindergarten bus. Bella followed me, voice hoarse, cursing Neo to the high heavens. I took my daughter’s small hand as she hopped off the bus. I turned around—and slammed straight into a familiar gaze. Neo was standing there. The container of soup he had gone to buy slipped from his fingers and splattered on the floor. His pupils constricted to pinpricks. He stared at Lily. “That child… whose is it?” 5. I pulled Lily behind me, shielding her with my body. My voice was steel. “This is my daughter. She has nothing to do with you, Mr. Gu. Your wife and son are waiting upstairs. Don’t keep them waiting.” Neo took a step forward. Bella, bless her heart, lunged like a feral cat. She shoved him back with surprising strength. “Are you deaf? She said get lost! We don’t welcome trash in this B&B! Get your people and get out!” She dragged him by his expensive sleeve toward the door. Neo stumbled, offering no resistance, but his head remained turned, his eyes locked on Lily with a burning intensity. “Mommy, let’s go,” Lily tugged at my hand, oblivious to the undercurrents. “Uncle Ethan is waiting for us to eat pizza!” Ethan. My landlord. The man who had silently stood guard over me for five years. I looked over and saw him waiting by the entrance of the pizza place down the street. His eyes were warm, steady—like a harbor in a storm. I relaxed. “Okay, sweetie. Let’s go.”

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1 The day I was sentenced to death for a crime I didn’t commit, my fiancée Elena married my stepbrother. My mother coughed up blood and died upon hearing the news, while my father’s mistress celebrated at the head table. During five years in prison, I endured beatings and pain, surviving only on thoughts of revenge. Then, suppressed evidence emerged, proving my innocence. I walked out, buried the name “Caleb Rivera,” and plunged into the violent underworld of the borderlands. The man who rose from the corpses was Vince Vance—a feared name in the global arms trade. Two years later, I returned to New York as a munitions tycoon to visit my mother’s grave. As my jet landed, the city’s elite gathered to welcome “Mr. Vance.” On my way out, I saw Elena standing pale at the edge of the crowd. “Caleb?” she whispered. She rushed over, grabbing my arms. “You’re alive! Why didn’t you come for me?” I calmly removed her fingers from my sleeve. “Ms. Elena, have some dignity.” Taking a silk handkerchief, I wiped where she’d touched me, deliberately showing the platinum band on my ring finger. “My wife is a germaphobe.” … Elena’s gaze locked onto the ring. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Wife? Caleb, don’t be delusional. Look at you.” The crowd began to whisper, their looks of admiration turning to suspicion. “Isn’t that the Rivera convict? The one who was on death row?” “Where is security? Get him out of here! If he upsets Mr. Vance, we’re all finished!” The man who had just been handing me his business card sneered, shoving me. “Get lost! A convict has no business at a gathering like this!” In the commotion, the handkerchief my wife had embroidered for me fell to the marble floor. I reached down to retrieve it, but a stiletto heel slammed down on the fabric. Elena looked down at me, her eyes wet but hard. “Seven years… Caleb, if you were alive, why didn’t you come see me?” I stared at the white silk, now stained with the dirt from her shoe. My eyes turned cold. “See you? See you marry my stepbrother? See you become my sister-in-law?” Elena flinched. “No! I had no choice back then! You don’t understand!” I let out a low, humorless laugh. I would never forget. Seven years ago, in that courtroom. When the judge read the death sentence, my father and Elena didn’t cry. They exhaled. They smiled. That relief was a dull knife sawing at my heart. Elena scanned my appearance, then looked behind me at the empty exit. “Why did you come out of the VIP gate? Do you know the arms dealer, Mr. Vance?” I smirked and shook my head. After all, how can one know oneself? Elena let out a breath, her posture relaxing. “Caleb, I’m begging you. Don’t cause a scene today. We have bet everything on making a connection with this Mr. Vance.” Her eyes drifted to my phone, which lit up with a notification. The lock screen showed me holding my wife, with our two-year-old daughter in my arms. Elena froze, then let out a scoff. “God, you haven’t changed. Still so childish. Did you Photoshop that just to make me jealous?” Her arrogance reminded me of our youth. I once flew halfway across the world just because she said she missed me, just to sing her to sleep. I thought devotion would be returned with devotion. I was an idiot. Seeing my silence, she pitied me. “Give it up. Even if you play pretend, I won’t feel anything for you anymore.” I ignored her narcissism. I pointed to her foot. “Give me the handkerchief.” She looked confused that I cared about a piece of cloth. She lifted her foot, picked it up with two fingers as if it were toxic waste, and sneered. “It’s just a dirty rag. Is this all you’re worth now?” She tossed it into a nearby trash can. Without hesitation, I reached into the bin. Amidst the gasps of the crowd, I retrieved it, carefully dusting off the ash and grime. Elena’s disdain overflowed. “No wonder you came out that exit. You’re working as a janitor now? Caleb, if you’re willing to beg, I can ask your brother to give you a job. At least… you won’t have to be a bottom-feeder.” I folded the cloth reverently and placed it back in my inner pocket. “No need. I didn’t come back to beg for a job.” I looked her dead in the eye. “I came back to balance the ledger.” “You? With what power?” she snapped. I didn’t answer. I turned and walked away. My phone rang. The moment I saw the caller ID, the ice in my veins melted. “Daddy!” My daughter Mia’s voice was a balm to my soul. “Grandpa said we can come see you and Grandma in two days! Do you miss us?” “Every second of every day, sweetheart.” My wife took the phone. Her voice was calm, dangerous, and loving all at once. “Vince, everything is arranged. My father says when we land, we need to pay our proper respects to your mother.” Two years ago, I was a nobody fighting in illegal death matches in the jungle, half-dead. Isabella found me. I didn’t know then that the fragile-looking woman was the only heir to a munitions empire. When I healed, she asked if I dared to trade my life for a future. I had one condition. “I want revenge.” She smiled. “Done.” I hung up and drove straight to the cemetery. For seven years, I had dreamed of kneeling before my mother. But when I arrived at the plot number, there was nothing but an empty pit. My heart hammered against my ribs. I stormed into the management office. “Where is Sarah Rivera’s grave?!” The clerk checked the logs and gave me a weird look. “Who are you to her? That grave was moved three years ago… to the pet sector.” My mind went blank. I stumbled to the pet cemetery adjacent to the grounds. There, next to a lavish tombstone for a dog, was my mother’s headstone, tossed carelessly in the corner, overgrown with weeds. A primal rage, hot and blinding, consumed me. I got in my car and drove to the Rivera estate. I kicked open the doors. My stepmother, Vivian, was wearing a birthday crown, surrounded by guests singing to her. They were celebrating her birthday on the anniversary of my mother’s death. “Where is my mother?!” I roared. Vivian turned pale, then squeezed out crocodile tears as she looked at my father. “I was just afraid Sarah would be lonely down there. When our dog, Buster, died, I thought they could keep each other company…” “You buried my mother with a dog?!” My stepbrother, Liam, stepped forward, swirling his wine glass. “Bro, relax. Your mom was a bitch, Buster was a dog. It’s a match made in heaven, isn’t it?” Laughter rippled through the room. My fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white. “You forget that without my mother’s money, this family would be on the streets! You’re living on her blood!” “Ungrateful bastard!” My father, Richard, smashed his glass. “Seven years gone and you come back to curse us? Drag him out! I have no son!” Bodyguards rushed me. I threw them off like ragdolls. “Anyone who hurt her will pay in blood!” I screamed. Outside, a thunderstorm broke. Rain hammered the earth. Vivian ran out with an umbrella. “Caleb, it’s pouring. Take this.” As she leaned in, ostensibly to give me the umbrella, she whispered in my ear. “You don’t know how she really died, do you?” I froze. Vivian smirked, her red lips curling like a demon’s. “She was on her knees begging me to save you. But I told her… I told her you were sentenced to death. She vomited blood right onto my shoes. It was… disgusting.” Boom. Something snapped in my brain. The grief was a tsunami. I grabbed Vivian by the throat. I squeezed. Her eyes bulged. She clawed at my hands, feet kicking the air. “Let… go…” “He’s crazy! Save Mrs. Rivera!” The guests panicked. Richard screamed, “Kill him! Take the animal down before he kills her!” But I wasn’t the weak Caleb anymore. I was Vince, forged in war zones. I threw Vivian aside and dismantled the first wave of bodyguards. “Break his legs!” Richard shrieked. More men poured in. I was overwhelmed. Suddenly, a figure burst through the rain. “Caleb! No!” Elena wrapped her arms around me from behind. In the past, whenever my bipolar disorder flared, she would hold me like this. She was my anchor. My savior. Even now, in this moment of life and death, a pathetic part of me wondered: Is she trying to save me? I hesitated. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered against my ear. “It’ll be over soon.” A sharp pain pricked my neck. A syringe. Muscle relaxant. High dose. My strength evaporated instantly. I collapsed into the mud. “Hold him down!” The guards pinned my limbs. One of them stomped on my shin. Snap. The agony was blinding, but I couldn’t scream. My muscles wouldn’t obey. They grabbed my hair and slammed my head into the pavement, forcing me to kowtow to a gasping Vivian. Thud. Thud. Blood and rain blinded me. Richard looked at me with pure disgust. “Mr. Vance is coming tonight. We can’t have this convict’s blood on the floor. Bad luck.” “Throw him in the trash,” he ordered. “Since he misses his mom so much, send him to her.” They dragged me like a sack of meat and tossed me into the mud next to the dog grave. The rain was freezing. Darkness began to take me. Then, footsteps. Not the chaotic stomping of the guards. The disciplined, rhythmic march of an army. Dozens of polished black shoes surrounded me. A pair of familiar heels stopped by my face. “Vince. We’re here to take you home.” My wife’s voice. Before I blacked out, I rasped, “Before home… revenge.” She pulled my muddy, broken body into her pristine coat. “Done. I’ll burn this place to the ground for you.” Night fell. The Rivera Gala was in full swing. The entire upper crust of New York was there, waiting for the legendary head of the Vance family. Under the flashing lights, an old man walked in, flanked by a wall of security. Arthur Vance. Richard and Vivian practically sprinted to greet him, bows deep and servile. “Mr. Vance! An honor! A true honor!” “We are humbled by your presence!” Richard bent so low his nose nearly touched his knees. Elena and Liam stood by, smiles plastered on their faces. Arthur Vance sat stone-faced. He didn’t take the wine offered to him. He didn’t even look at them. The glass hovered in the air. The room grew awkward. Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. The room went silent. “I am here to introduce someone.” He gestured to the grand doors. The doors swung open. I rolled in, sitting in a wheelchair pushed by my beautiful wife. My daughter sat on my lap, her arms around my neck. “Daddy,” she chirped. The word echoed in the silent hall. “Caleb… Rivera?!” Elena gasped, dropping her glass. Cameras flashed like lightning. Vivian was the first to recover. She pointed a shaking finger at Isabella. “You trash! Where did you hire these actors? Did you rent the kid too?” Liam laughed nervously. “What kind of bastard claims a convict as a father? Brother, have you no shame?” Richard was trembling with rage. He glanced at the silent Arthur Vance, then roared at me. “Who let this cripple in?! Security! Throw him out!” He turned to Arthur, bowing frantically. “Mr. Vance, please forgive me! This is my estranged, good-for-nothing son! An escaped convict! I disowned him years ago! We will remove this filth immediately!” Guards moved toward my wheelchair. Arthur Vance, who had been a statue of ice, suddenly slammed his cane onto the floor. BANG. “Who dares touch my son-in-law?!” In the rafters, red laser dots appeared on the foreheads of Richard, Vivian, Liam, and every guard who had taken a step. Silence. Absolute, terrifying silence. My father-in-law stood up, ignoring the pale Rivera family, and walked to my side. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Tonight, I have an announcement.” He looked at the crowd. “From this moment on, the entire Vance empire belongs to my son-in-law, Vince Vance. Formerly known as Caleb Rivera.” Elena stumbled back, her knees giving out.

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My luck turned the day I found a stray poodle. It wasn’t just landing the company’s biggest account and getting a promotion with a hefty raise. The matriarch of a powerful family, Eleanor Wayan, hand-picked me to be her daughter-in-law. She offered me a car, a house, and promised to transfer all her assets to my future child. I was ready to refuse, but then she showed me a photo of her son, who was away on business overseas. And I, a total sucker for a handsome face, was sold. The wedding was arranged in a flash, but the groom missed his flight and didn’t make it. My mother-in-law had me walk down the aisle holding the poodle instead, and to make up for it, she transferred an extra million dollars to my account on the spot. Just like that, I married into high society. A few days later, my roommate pushed me off our apartment building’s rooftop. “We saw that dog together! Why do you get to marry a billionaire while I get nothing?” she screamed, her face twisted with rage. “If you die, I get a do-over!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the beginning. And this time, I let her have the dog. 1 “Oh, you poor little thing! Are you lost?” My roommate, Sophie, who was normally a notorious neat freak, scooped up the filthy poodle that was circling our feet. Before I could even react, she shot me a look, her voice sharp. “Diana, I’m keeping this dog, and you can’t have him!” I saw the fierce determination in her eyes, a stark contrast to how things played out the first time. I knew instantly. She’d been reborn, too. Sophie watched me, a smug smile playing on her lips. “I just feel a connection with this dog, you know? Like he’s a lucky charm. Maybe he’ll bring me good fortune.” She feigned concern. “I know you wanted him too, but you already have two dogs. You probably can’t handle another one, right?” I glanced at the poodle in her arms and gave a nonchalant shrug. “You’re right, I’ve got my hands full. If you want him, he’s all yours.” In my past life, I only took him in because he followed us all the way home. He was a mess, so I gave him a bath and some food out of pity, and he refused to leave. I never imagined that simple act of kindness would completely derail my life. At my words, Sophie could barely contain her glee. “You promise? No take-backs!” she chirped. “Even if he helps me marry… well, anyway, you can’t get jealous!” She caught herself, afraid of revealing too much and making me change my mind. Only after I swore a solemn oath that I wouldn’t regret it did she happily cradle the dog and head home. At that exact moment, a notification materialized in my mind. Congratulations. You have been granted a second chance. Upon the death of the key individual from this timeline, you may return to this moment and change your fate. The message was a revelation. The starting point wasn’t random; it was tethered to this specific moment. And the trigger was simple: the other person’s death. No wonder Sophie had shrieked, If you die, I get a do-over! She’d been given the same chance. But from her reaction just now, it was clear she had no idea I was back, too. The moment I stepped through the apartment door, Sophie blocked my path. “Diana, did you just hear a weird voice?” Her expression was a mix of panic and confusion. I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I just furrowed my brow. “What voice? Is someone breaking in?” “No, not like that. It was… robotic. It said something about a second chance… and death.” I gave her a dismissive look. “Have you been reading too many web novels, Sophie? There’s no such thing as rebirth in the real world. Stop daydreaming.” She scrutinized my face, searching for any hint of a lie. Seeing none, she let out a sigh of relief and headed to her room, humming a cheerful tune. I watched her go, a cold smile touching my lips. She had no idea that some poodles have a dark side. I just hoped she was ready to pay the price for adopting him. 2 That night, just as I was about to go to sleep, a frantic knock rattled my door. “Diana, wash this beast for me, and make sure he’s spotless!” Sophie demanded. For some reason, the mere thought of touching that poodle made my skin crawl. I felt a primal urge to stay away. “I can’t,” I said, my hand on the doorknob. “I have a report to finish for work.” I tried to close the door, but she stuck her hand in the way. “What’s with the attitude?” she snapped. “You’d better watch your tone with me. Don’t be an idiot. Once I’ve made it, you’ll be lucky if I hire you to be my dog’s nanny!” As if on cue, the poodle trotted out of the bathroom and started humping her smooth leg. Sophie let out a cry of disgust and kicked the dog away. It yelped in pain as it hit the corner of the wall. I frowned, my heart twisting with a flicker of pity, but I forced myself to remain cold. “If you can’t handle it, just take him to a groomer. They’re professionals.” After I shut the door, I could hear her cursing me out in the hallway. In the days that followed, she not only started mimicking my style of dress, but she also began bringing the dog to the office. At first, our colleagues cooed about how kind-hearted she was. That lasted less than a day. Sophie didn’t use a leash or a crate, and the poodle, clearly in heat, became a menace. He was peeing everywhere, leaving little presents under desks, and constantly trying to mount people’s legs. “Sophie, can you please control your dog? Look, he got my pants all wet!” “Ugh, he just tipped over my trash can and now there’s garbage everywhere.” “Damn it, Sophie! He just shredded the documents I finished printing!” Sophie ignored the chorus of complaints. Our manager was already on edge because a major client was scheduled for a visit that day. When he walked in and saw the state of the office, he exploded. “Sophie, who the hell gave you permission to bring a pet to work?” he roared. “Do you have any idea how important today’s client is? The company’s entire second half depends on this deal! You have ten minutes to clean this mess up, or you can take your dog and get out!” But Sophie was completely unfazed. She wasn’t even afraid of the manager she used to tremble before. “I know exactly who’s coming,” she said with an air of superiority. “That’s precisely why I brought my dog today.” She smirked. “And just so you all know, without me, you won’t be closing that deal. So I’d advise you to stop yelling at me. Otherwise, when this is all over, I might just make sure you don’t have a manager’s job to yell from.” A stunned silence fell over the office, followed by snickers of derision. “Has she lost her mind? She’s just an intern, talking to the manager like that.” “I think she’s finally cracked. Earlier, she was going on about marrying into a rich family and telling us not to get on her bad side.” “She’s delusional. Her? The girl who budgets every single takeout order? Marry into wealth? The only ‘rich’ she’s getting is rich in crazy.” But I knew. I knew Sophie wasn’t bluffing. Because the important client arriving any minute was the dog’s original owner—Eleanor Wayan, the formidable chairwoman of the Wayan Corporation. The manager, though furious, was a seasoned veteran of the corporate world. Seeing Sophie’s unwavering confidence, he decided to play it safe. “You’d better be right about this, Sophie. Or else…” After ordering the cleaning crew to blitz the office, he straightened his tie just as Eleanor Wayan walked in, flanked by a group of executives. The poodle immediately scampered over to her, nipping at her trouser leg and yapping excitedly. Eleanor Wayan’s expression shifted, and a wave of panic washed over the room. The manager rushed forward, bowing his head. “Mrs. Wayan, I am so terribly sorry. I’ll handle this immediately. Sophie, get over—” But before he could finish, Eleanor bent down and lifted the poodle into her arms. She examined it closely for a moment before turning to Sophie. “Is this your dog?” Sophie stepped forward, her voice a picture of shy humility. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. He’s usually very well-behaved. He’s such a poor, sweet thing. He would have starved to death if I hadn’t found him. Please, don’t hurt him.” Eleanor’s eyes scanned Sophie from head to toe. “Hurt him? Why would I do that? On the contrary, I should be thanking you for taking him in. This is my lost dog.” Her voice was smooth as silk. “You have a kind heart. Name your reward. Anything you want, I can provide.” Watching the scene unfold from this new perspective, I couldn’t shake a strange feeling. Eleanor’s gaze wasn’t one of gratitude or admiration. It felt… predatory. As if she were a hunter, dangling the perfect bait to lure her prey. Sophie suppressed a shiver of excitement, her face lighting up with feigned surprise. “Really? What a coincidence! I only took him in because I fell in love with him, I never expected anything in return.” She paused, as if struck by a brilliant idea. “But if you really want to thank me, maybe you could give our company’s proposal a serious look during the meeting. I’m the one who pulled all-nighters for weeks to write it.” The people around us gasped, their eyes darting to Sophie in disbelief. 3 Someone started to speak up, but the manager silenced them with a sharp glare. Eleanor Wayan seemed momentarily surprised by the request, then nodded. “Since you’re in charge of the project, let’s just sign the contract. I’m sure a person as kind as you must be equally dedicated to her work.” She turned to leave, then paused at the door and looked back. “Sophie, was it? Join me for dinner tonight. I’ll have my driver pick you up.” The look of pure ecstasy on Sophie’s face was impossible to miss. Our manager beamed as he escorted Eleanor out. The moment she was gone, he turned to the staff and announced Sophie’s immediate promotion from intern to full-time employee. “Diana,” he said, his tone brisk. “Hand over your files to Sophie. She’ll be handling the project from here on out. You’re off it.” “But sir, that proposal was—” one of my colleagues started to protest on my behalf. I saw the manager’s face darken and quickly grabbed my friend’s arm, shaking my head. I gathered my materials and handed them to Sophie. The manager’s expression softened instantly. “See? Diana understands the bigger picture. When the company thrives, we all thrive.” After he left, Sophie sauntered over to my desk, preening like a peacock. “I bet you’re regretting it now, aren’t you, Diana? Too bad. You’re the one who gave him up,” she gloated. “Are you angry? Do you feel humiliated? Watching a project you slaved over for six months become mine? Good. I’m glad. This is payback for refusing to help me yesterday!” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Just so you know, I’m going to be Mrs. Julian Wayan very soon. And you? You’ll be stuck as a corporate drone, slogging through a 9-to-5 for the rest of your life!” Then she turned to the rest of the office. “And as for the rest of you peasants, you’d better start showing me some respect. Once I’m a Wayan, if I’m in a good mood, I might throw a big client or two your way.” With that, she flounced out of the office. Her arrogant demeanor left a bitter taste in everyone’s mouth, and the complaints started immediately. “She found a lost dog, so what? The woman is repaying a favor, and Sophie actually thinks she’s about to become a princess?” “What is wrong with her? Stealing Diana’s project and acting like one stroke of dumb luck makes her better than everyone else.” “She’s living in a fantasy world. A rich woman says a few polite words, and suddenly she thinks finding the dog means she gets to marry into the family? Get real!” “Don’t let it get to you, Diana,” a colleague said, patting my shoulder. “We’ll just wait for reality to hit and watch her come crawling back.” I just smiled without saying a word. Because I knew that tonight, Eleanor Wayan really would ask Sophie to be her daughter-in-law. That’s why she was acting so invincible, looking down on all of us. But a marriage born from a lost dog… could it really be that simple? Sure enough, two days later, Sophie appeared at the office, dripping in jewels and designer clothes, handing out wedding invitations. She stopped at my desk, looking down at me with disdain. “Diana, you must be dying to come to my high-society wedding, right? After all, some people will never get to see something like this in their entire lives.” I kept my voice even. “Sophie, I hear Mr. Wayan is still overseas. You haven’t even met him. Don’t you think it’s a bit rushed to be holding a wedding now? What if—” She cut me off with a sharp laugh. “Ha! I’ve seen pictures of Julian. He’s gorgeous and rich. Why wouldn’t I marry him? My mother-in-law said that even though it’s last minute, it will be a wedding fit for a queen. You’re just jealous because you can’t have what I have!” Seeing she was beyond reason, I dropped the subject. As she held out the embossed invitation, I reached for it, but at the last second, she let it go. It fluttered to the floor, and she promptly pinned it under her sharp stiletto heel. “Want it? Polish my shoe, and it’s yours.” I didn’t really want the invitation, but there were too many unanswered questions from my past life. I needed to get inside that hotel. After a few seconds of tense silence, I knelt down and wiped the dust from her shoe. Seeing me humbled before her, Sophie burst out laughing. “That’s more like it!” She gave my shoulder a light kick with her other foot before putting on her sunglasses and striding away. 4 The wedding day arrived, and the venue was decorated exactly as I remembered. And, just like last time, the groom had missed his flight. The hall buzzed with whispers and speculation. Before Eleanor could even make an announcement, Sophie stepped forward and bravely offered to complete the ceremony by herself. Eleanor, who had likely been planning to suggest the same thing, was impressed by Sophie’s “understanding” nature. She agreed immediately and transferred another million dollars to Sophie’s account as a gift. With Julian absent, the reception ended with Sophie heading to the bridal suite alone, clutching the poodle. I immediately pulled out my phone and opened the live feed from the hidden camera. Following the map of my past life’s memories, I had slipped into the room earlier while the staff was distracted and planted it. On the screen, Sophie was giddy, rolling around on the large red bedspread as she stared at the new balance in her bank account. A moment later, Eleanor came in, handed her a glass of milk, and told her to get some rest. Soon after, Sophie was fast asleep, still in her wedding dress. In my first life, I had also drunk that milk and passed out. I woke up the next morning to find my clothes strewn across the floor and my body covered in strange marks. Now, finally, I was about to see what really happened after I fell asleep. The next thing that appeared on the screen made my eyes go wide. I stared in shock as a shimmering, spectral figure of a man materialized over the bed. He began to caress Sophie, his ghostly hands expertly unfastening her dress. His expression was lecherous, and he muttered filth under his breath. “Been a while since I had a taste of a woman… God, I’ve been dying for this.” “So soft… and you smell so good… Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you…” Then, as if remembering something, he backhanded her across the face. “Bitch. You dared to kick me, again and again. Let’s see how you like it when I teach you a lesson!” Even though he was just a phantom, angry red welts immediately appeared on Sophie’s sleeping face. The voice was familiar, and as I studied the phantom’s outline, I realized he looked exactly like Julian Wayan from the photographs. In my past life, when I’d discovered the marks on my body, I had asked Eleanor about them. She’d explained that her son, Julian, had returned during the night. They had consummated the marriage, but he’d had to leave again for an urgent matter. As it was my first time, I was inexperienced and too embarrassed to question a senior about such things, so I let it go. I never could have imagined that the “consummation” she spoke of was with a ghost. The phantom’s actions grew rougher. He ripped the skirt of her gown away, showing no hint of tenderness. But just as he was about to descend upon her, he froze. His eyes narrowed, turning sinister. “Damn it. You filthy whore!” he hissed. “I thought you were pure, but you’re foul! What a waste of my time.” I frowned, confused. A moment ago he was saying how good she smelled. Why was he suddenly calling her foul? Perhaps Julian’s enraged shouts were too loud, because Eleanor soon entered the room. Seeing Sophie’s body now covered in bruises from Julian’s spectral blows, she rushed to intervene. “Son, what’s wrong?” she asked urgently. “We finally found a suitable woman. Take it easy! If you damage her body, how is she supposed to carry the child?” Julian was seething. “Suitable? She’s not suitable at all! We’ve been deceived!” he raged. “Mother, she’s faking it! She reeks of impurity. There’s no way she can bear the child.” This only confused me more. I had no idea if Sophie was “foul” or not, but what did that have to do with having a child? Their next exchange gave me the answer. Eleanor frowned, sniffing the air. “Foul? I don’t smell anything.” “Mother, would I lie to you? Don’t you remember the master opened my spiritual senses? I can tell if a woman is a virgin just by her scent,” Julian’s voice echoed. “This woman must have been covering her stench with perfume. Now that her clothes are off, the filth is overwhelming. God knows how many men she’s been with.” His voice filled with despair. “Mother, what do we do? We chose the wrong one!” Eleanor looked equally bewildered. “How could that be? The master was clear: at that specific time and place, we would find a virgin with a pure life essence, perfect for you. He said she would be kind-hearted, soft, and a lover of animals, and that she would surely take you home.” She looked from the ghost to the poodle. “Everything matched the time and place where Sophie found you. How could it be wrong?” Hearing this, I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. If what they were saying was true, then their original target… was me. It was only because of my rebirth that Sophie had intercepted their plan. But even if I had this “pure life essence,” why were they so desperate for me to have Julian’s child? What they said next sent a chill down my spine, freezing the blood in my veins.

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I gave up a faculty position at MIT to return home and grind for five years at my family’s company. I finally took it public. But at the bell-ringing ceremony, my parents pushed a girl who looked startlingly like them onto the stage. “Evelyn,” my mother said, her voice devoid of warmth, “the nurse made a mistake all those years ago. Chloe is our real daughter.” “You should move out tomorrow,” my father added, his tone clipped. “And before you go, remember to settle the bill for your upbringing.” “Finding a job is tough these days,” my mother continued, offering a sliver of false pity. “Out of respect for our years together, you can stay on as a janitor.” Chloe smiled, lifting the ceremonial mallet, her voice laced with unconcealed triumph. “Thank you, Eva, for every project you’ve developed these past five years. All your patents are registered under my name now.” She leaned in, her smile turning cruel. “But I don’t like strangers in my house. You should leave as soon as possible.” Amid the sympathetic glances from the guests, I let out a low laugh. A pack of fools. If I had the power to make you, I most certainly have the power to break you. 1 I calmly pushed through the crowd and walked out of the stock exchange’s grand, gilded doors. I hailed a taxi, giving the address of the villa I had called home for over twenty years. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. He probably recognized me; the IPO ceremony had been broadcast live across every network. He didn’t say a word, just quietly turned off the financial news station that was playing on the radio. I leaned my head against the cool glass, watching the city’s neon lights streak past. My phone buzzed relentlessly. I didn’t need to look. It was the media, vultures circling for the first taste of a fresh scandal. I simply turned it off. The taxi pulled up to the gates of the villa community. From a distance, I could see them: two large suitcases and a cardboard box, standing alone and abandoned just outside the main gate. A cold smirk touched my lips. Their efficiency was truly impressive. They couldn’t bear the thought of me spending another second in that house. I dragged the suitcases to the front door, my thumb moving instinctively toward the fingerprint scanner. Beep. Access denied. Please contact the administrator. The electronic voice was as cold as ice. The irony was thick enough to choke on. I had personally designed and implemented this entire security system, from the hardware to the software. The so-called “administrator” with supreme access had always been me. To think I would be locked out by my own creation. Fine. It saved me the trouble of playing a part in their saccharine family drama. I sat down on the ground, cross-legged, and opened my laptop. With practiced ease, I navigated to the company’s internal server backend. I wanted to see just how thoroughly they had stolen my life’s work. I entered the administrator account and password I had used for five years. But instead of the familiar interface, a stark red window popped up: User does not exist. They were thorough, I’ll give them that. Just as I was contemplating my next move, the phone in my pocket, which I had powered down, suddenly lit up. A number I thought I would never see again. 2 The encrypted call request flashed on the screen for less than three seconds before it vanished. It was so quick I might have imagined it. The screen went dark again, returning to its powered-off state. I tried to turn it back on, but the phone was completely dead. A bitter smile played on my lips. First things first, I needed a place to stay. I hailed another cab and went to a decent-looking budget hotel nearby. “A room, please,” I said, handing my ID to the receptionist. “Certainly. That will be three hundred and sixty-eight, plus a five-hundred-dollar deposit. How will you be paying?” “Card,” I said, pulling out the bank card I had used for years. It was a secondary card linked to Richard Ashworth’s account, where all my salary and project bonuses had been deposited. The receptionist inserted the card into the terminal. Beep-beep-beep! The machine let out a series of sharp, frantic alarms. The young woman paused, tried again, and got the same result. She looked at me, her expression apologetic. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but there seems to be a problem with this card. It’s not going through.” A knot formed in my stomach. “Try this one.” I took out my personal debit card from my wallet. I’d had it since college. It held my scholarship money and earnings from side projects—not much, but more than enough for a few nights in a hotel. The result was the same. “This one isn’t working either…” the receptionist’s voice trailed off. I had no choice but to ask her to let me charge my phone for a few minutes. As soon as it powered on, a text from the bank popped up. “Dear Ms. Evelyn Ashworth, pursuant to a request filed by Mr. Richard Ashworth, all bank cards registered under your name have been frozen in connection with a ‘child support recovery’ claim. Total amount…” I laughed. Richard Ashworth had missed his calling; he would have made a brilliant accountant. So, a hotel was out of the question. I dragged my suitcases back onto the street. The night wind was sharp, and a chill crept into my bones. I opened my phone and found Mark’s number. He was the lead programmer, my protégé. He was always the first to call me “Boss Eva,” his tone thick with admiration. The phone rang for a long time before he picked up. “Hello? Mark, it’s me.” The line was dead silent, save for the faint sound of breathing. “I need your help. Can you get me the original development logs for the Genesis system—” “Sorry, you have the wrong number.” He cut me off flatly and hung up. In disbelief, I dialed another core member of my team. The number was disconnected. The people I had fought alongside, the ones with whom I’d pulled all-nighters fueled by instant noodles, sharing the joy of every solved problem—they either hung up, turned off their phones, or vanished into thin air. They had cut me off at the knees. It was a viciously effective move. I stood at a crossroads, watching the endless stream of headlights, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of true desolation. No money, no home, and the comrades I once trusted were now my enemies. He really wanted to destroy me. 3 I dragged my two suitcases through the late-night streets for so long that my legs went numb. Finally, I stopped in front of a narrow alleyway, bathed in the glow of a seedy neon sign. Scrawled on the wall in crooked red paint were the words: Single Room, 300/Month. Fine. This would have to do. The landlady was a woman with a cigarette dangling from her lips. She gave my designer clothes and expensive-looking luggage a strange look but eventually tossed a greasy key at me. One month’s rent, one month’s deposit. Cash only. I emptied my wallet of the last few bills I had and, in return, received a space of less than a hundred square feet. A plank bed, a desk with peeling paint, and a single lightbulb that flickered erratically. The walls were covered in stains left by previous tenants, and the air was a thick mixture of damp mold and cheap perfume. I lay down on the hard bed, fully clothed, and stared at the stubbornly flashing bulb. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I was jolted awake by a commotion. The sound of shuffling feet in the hallway was mixed with a woman’s shrieks and a man’s angry shouts. I ignored it until the knocking started on my door. Bang, bang, bang! The knocking was urgent, impatient, and certain of a response. Assuming it was the landlady, I got up to open the door. When I pulled it open, I froze. It was Chloe. Her makeup was flawless, and against the grimy, decaying backdrop of the hallway, she looked like a princess who had stumbled into the slums. Behind her stood a crowd of reporters, their cameras and microphones all pointed directly at me. The flashbulbs went off, a blinding, popping cacophony that made my eyes ache. “Eva,” Chloe’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “How could you be living in a place like this? Mom, Dad, and I have been worried sick!” She reached for my hand, but I stepped aside, and she was left grasping at air. She didn’t miss a beat, pulling a thick envelope from her purse and shoving it into my hand in full view of the cameras. “I know things are hard for you right now,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “Mom and Dad wanted me to give you this. Take it, find a better place to live. Please don’t do this to yourself.” Her performance was masterful. “And don’t worry, as long as you apologize to Mom and Dad, admit you were wrong, our door will always be open for you.” I looked at her, and a strange sense of amusement washed over me. “Chloe,” I began, my voice hoarse from a night without water, “do you really think everyone in the world is as stupid as you are?” Her expression faltered, the tears in her eyes wobbling precariously. “Eva, how can you say that? I’m just trying to help…” “Cut the act,” I interrupted. “Bringing a pack of reporters to ‘visit’ me? Were you afraid I wasn’t dying a sufficiently humiliating death, so you came to twist the knife? Or is your ‘genius girl’ persona crumbling so fast you need to climb on my corpse to stay afloat?” The color drained from Chloe’s face. She couldn’t believe that even in this state, I still had the audacity to speak to her like this. She took a deep breath, dropping the pitiful act. She stepped closer, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “Evelyn, you should know when you’re beaten. You have nothing left. How are you going to fight me? Do you believe that with a single word, I can make it so you can’t even stay in a dump like this?” She paused, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “Be a good little nobody. Admit that everything was always mine, and maybe I’ll be merciful and find you a job cleaning toilets. Otherwise, you can just wait to starve to death on the street.” With that, she reverted to her innocent, benevolent facade and sighed for the cameras. “Eva, please, think about it.” She and her media entourage swept away, leaving me in the sudden silence. I closed the door, the murmurs outside slowly fading. Starve to death? Clean toilets? I walked to the only mirror in the room. The woman staring back at me was a wreck. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were shot with red, and she looked like a ghost. But those eyes, even in the dim, flickering light, burned with a terrifying intensity. 4 Chloe’s departure didn’t bring peace. The landlady in the hallway, the cashier at the corner store—they all gave me second glances, whispering to each other as I passed. I didn’t have to guess; the internet was on fire again. I locked myself in my tiny room and opened my laptop. A moment later, an unfamiliar encrypted communication request popped up on the screen. The interface was retro, a program Jimmy Vance and I had coded for fun back in college. The encryption key was known only to the two of us. We hadn’t used it since graduation. I accepted the request. A line of text appeared in the chatbox, written in his familiar, devil-may-care tone. “Well, well. Dr. Ashworth. How does it feel to be an international celebrity?” I could practically see Jimmy’s smirk, his eyebrows raised in that roguish way of his. He was the reigning genius of our class, the only person who could ever match me in a technical duel. After graduation, he went to Wall Street while I returned home. We had slowly lost touch. I was in no mood for jokes. I typed back, “Get to the point.” “Alright, straight shooter. I like it,” he replied instantly. “I did a little pro-bono due diligence on Ashworth Industries in my spare time. Call it a friendly favor. Found something interesting. Your tech reports and financial data don’t add up. Especially those new core patents you just announced. The theoretical models are beautiful, but the underlying architecture… tsk, tsk. It’s a house of cards. No way it can support that stock price.” My heart sank. Jimmy continued, “Then I saw the news. My guess is, the real tech guru is hiding in a corner somewhere, contemplating the meaning of life. Am I right?” I remained silent. He knew everything. “Send me your account number,” his next message popped up. “Any problem that can be solved with money isn’t a problem. And if it can’t be solved, it just means you’re not using enough money.” I managed a wry smile. “All my accounts are frozen. Besides, I don’t even have a decent computer right now. Money’s useless to me.” They hadn’t just stolen my work; they had severed every possible avenue for a counterattack. Without a workstation, without server access, I had all the skills to slay a dragon but lacked even a rusty sword. The other end was silent for a few seconds. Then, a message appeared that sent a jolt through my entire body. “Who said you don’t have a sword? Did you forget? In the empire you built with your own hands, the throne you made for yourself is still there.” My mind went blank. “Evelyn, did you work yourself stupid?” “The creator’s backdoor to the Genesis system. You forgot?” I felt the blood rush to my head, my fingertips tingling. How could I have forgotten? To protect against corporate espionage and external hacks, I had built a backdoor into the deepest layer of the Genesis system’s logic. It was completely independent of all administrative controls and held the highest possible level of clearance. Its activation key was a string of impossibly long, randomized code integrated with my personal biometric data. In the entire world, only I knew it. Richard and Chloe thought that by deleting my admin account and revoking my privileges, they were safe. They thought that by taking my keys, they owned the house. They had no idea that I was the architect of the entire building. And at any moment, I could pull the foundation out from under it.

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