Just because I was pregnant, his widowed sister-in-law threatened to kill herself. To appease her, my husband insisted I have an abortion, just to put her mind at ease. “Eleanor is just so lonely since my brother died,” he told me. “I’m just taking care of her for him, giving her a child. Don’t overthink it.” When I refused, he drugged me and took me to the clinic himself. When I woke up, my eyes were burning with tears. “Samuel, just because she was unhappy, you’ve made me lose three children!” He was impatient. “It’s just a baby. We can have another one later.” “For now, Eleanor needs to prepare for the pregnancy, so I’ll be staying with her. I’ll come back after she conceives.” He and Eleanor left together, hand in hand. A month later, Eleanor returned, one hand resting on her still-flat stomach. “I’m pregnant,” she announced. “You’ll have to take good care of Samuel for me now.” I burned the letter in my hand. It was from the city. The wedding date is set. I’m coming to get you. … 1 Samuel glanced at the smoldering paper in the hearth. “What are you burning?” My voice was flat. “Nothing.” He looked at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes, and reached for my hand. “Phoebe, I know you’re still angry about what happened.” “But you shouldn’t have used your pregnancy to provoke her.” “You know how fragile she’s been ever since my brother and nephew died in that accident.” “This is for the best. I give Eleanor a child, she has a new reason to live, and our lives can finally be peaceful.” “If you want a baby that badly, we’ll have our own next time.” “No, thank you.” I pulled my hand away. This wasn’t the first time he’d forced me to abort our child because of Eleanor. The thought of my three lost babies made it hard to breathe. He wanted to make amends, but I was done. Samuel thought I was just sulking. He tried to coax me again. “It’s just one baby… Eleanor promised that after the child is born, she’ll leave us alone. We can have as many as we want then.” “She’s being so generous about it. Why are you still holding a grudge?” Eleanor, standing beside him, added with a soft smile, “Yes, Phoebe, please don’t be upset.” I almost laughed out loud. We were husband and wife, but we needed an outsider’s permission to have a child. It was a sick joke. I took a deep breath and handed him the divorce papers I’d prepared. “Samuel, let’s file for divorce.” Seven years of my life, three of my children. It was the price I paid for loving the wrong man. It was time to walk away. As I grabbed my packed suitcase, Eleanor’s eyes lit up. Samuel didn’t see it. He was staring at the papers, his whole body shaking with rage. Eleanor lowered her gaze, the picture of innocence. “Phoebe, I know you’re angry with me, but you don’t have to resort to these games. The baby is innocent.” That snapped him out of it. He tore the papers to shreds. “Don’t think you can manipulate me, Phoebe,” he sneered. “And don’t forget, if it weren’t for me, a disgraced tycoon’s daughter like you would have nothing!” The words were a dagger in my heart. In this new era, my family’s past was a stain. Samuel, on the other hand, had come from nothing, a former militia man who had clawed his way up to the rank of Commander. He truly believed I owed my comfortable life entirely to him. Seeing my silence, his tone softened. “Alright, Phoebe. Let’s just forget this. Stop making a scene.” “Eleanor and I have discussed it. We’re going to have a ceremony, to give the unborn child a name.” “But don’t worry,” he added, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “We’ll get a ‘divorce’ as soon as the baby is born. You are my only real wife.” Eleanor’s expression darkened for a split second. “The reception is today. We’ve already arranged everything. You’ll come with us, as a witness. With you there, people won’t gossip.” He tried to take my arm, his voice turning gentle. “After the ceremony, I’ll move back in. Eleanor has just conceived, so I need you to take good care of her.” I ripped my arm away, trembling with fury. “Samuel, she’s carrying your child, and you want me to be her nursemaid?” His eyes flashed. “You’re my wife! What’s wrong with looking after my sister-in-law and my child? Besides, when the baby is born, it’ll have to call you ‘Auntie’ anyway.” I sucked in a breath. “I refuse! I told you, I want a divorce!” Samuel’s face hardened. Before he could speak, Eleanor sighed, her voice thick with emotion. “Phoebe, are you still holding this against me? If you hate me, I’ll leave. I’ll never come between you and Samuel again. But please, I beg you, let me keep this baby. It’s the only thing I have to live for.” “Please don’t use these tactics to force Samuel to get rid of another one…” She looked as if she was about to drop to her knees. Samuel rushed to her side, pulling her up, his voice urgent and tender. “Eleanor, this isn’t your fault. You don’t need to kneel to her.” The way he looked at her, full of concern… it was the same way he had looked at me, all those years ago when he first told me he loved me. He soothed Eleanor, then turned to face me. His eyes were ice. “Don’t push your luck, Phoebe.” “We’ve both told you, this is temporary. The baby and Eleanor are no threat to your position. What more do you want?” “The ceremony is about to start. I don’t have time for this. Let’s go.” He glanced at his watch and reached for me. I slapped his hand away and turned to leave. That was the last straw. He grabbed the heavy thermos from a nearby table and smashed it over my head. CRACK— The world spun. A dull, blooming pain exploded at the back of my skull. I froze, stunned. After a few seconds, I reached up to touch the spot. My fingertips came away slick with red. Slowly, I turned to look at him. Samuel stared for a moment, then his face hardened again. “You asked for this.” “I told you, today is the ceremony. I don’t have time to play your games!” He shoved me violently toward the door, then called for two of his men. They manhandled me into the back of a pickup truck waiting outside. Eleanor, holding his arm, climbed in after me. “When we get there, you keep your mouth shut,” Samuel warned. “You’ll tell everyone that you and I divorced a long time ago, and this has nothing to do with Eleanor. If you damage her reputation, don’t blame me for what happens next.” Rage ignited inside me. “Samuel, when will this end? I told you, I want a divorce—” SLAP— His hand cracked across my face before I could finish. “Phoebe, you can have your tantrum after today!” The blow left my head ringing. He looked at me with disgust, then pulled a piece of cloth from the dashboard and threw it at me. “Wipe the blood off your face. Don’t give people the wrong idea.” I looked down. The cloth… was a pair of women’s panties. I went rigid. Eleanor noticed and snatched them back, a strange mix of embarrassment and playful annoyance on her face. “Samuel, I thought you put these away. Why are they still here?” He glanced at them, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “Must have overlooked them.” He grabbed a clean rag and tossed it to me. The thought of what they had done in this truck made my stomach turn. I moved to get out. Samuel’s voice was a blade of ice. “Phoebe, disobedience has consequences.” I remembered the last time. Because Eleanor had complained my cooking was bland, he had poured a pot of scalding soup over my shoulder. I was covered in blistering burns, but he forbade the local clinic from treating me. I spent two weeks in agony, fighting off infection and fever, until my body finally gave out or gave in. The right side of my shoulder is still a mass of scarred tissue. The memory made me sink back into my seat. Seeing my submission, Eleanor smiled and leaned against Samuel, starting a cheerful conversation, asking if he was tired, asking if the baby was bothering him. I knew she was trying to provoke me. To make me lash out so Samuel would punish me again. It was an old, familiar game. But this time, I just closed my eyes. My lack of reaction seemed to annoy Samuel. His face fell. The ceremony was being held at the Officer’s Club in the city. When we arrived, my legs were unsteady. He shot me a look of contempt. “You’re a mess. Clean yourself up.” “And when you get inside, you behave.” He nodded to his two men, then let Eleanor lead him into the club. The summer sun beat down, making my head spin even more. I licked my cracked lips and forced myself to walk inside. The room was filled with Samuel’s friends and colleagues. When he and Eleanor entered, cheers erupted. When I followed, the room fell silent. Everyone stared. “She came?” someone whispered. Eleanor spoke up, her voice clear. “I invited Phoebe to be our witness today.” The guests exchanged uneasy looks, then forced a few laughs. Their eyes, when they looked at me, were filled with scorn. “She still has the nerve to show her face? Shameless.” Eleanor smoothed things over. Samuel stood beside her, his arm around her. They were both dressed in their finest—Eleanor in a smart, tailored suit and polished shoes, her face glowing. I, on the other hand, looked like a ghost, my hair matted with blood, my face deathly pale. “Right! This is a joyous occasion!” someone shouted. “Commander, Ms. Eleanor, congratulations!” Eleanor smiled, tightening her grip on Samuel’s waist and glancing at me. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. The crowd roared. “Another one! Another one!” Samuel blushed but leaned in and kissed her fully on the lips. They melted into each other, oblivious to the world, lost in a deep, passionate kiss. The guests cheered and clapped, their eyes darting to me, hungry for the drama. They all knew how desperately I loved Samuel. In the past, I’d chased off any woman who showed an interest in him. When he first brought Eleanor to live in the compound, I had lost my mind, screaming, smashing things, even threatening him with a knife to make him send her away. To everyone here, I was the crazy one. But now, I just stood there, perfectly still. All I could think was, They’re so in love. Maybe now he’ll finally agree to the divorce. After a moment, as if just remembering I was there, Eleanor pulled away. “Samuel, Phoebe is watching. This isn’t right…” He glanced at me, unconcerned. “Who cares about her?” Eleanor patted his arm playfully, then looked at me with an apologetic expression. “Phoebe… don’t be angry. Samuel didn’t mean it.” “I’m not angry.” I offered a faint smile. “Seeing you two so happy, I can only wish you the best.” I looked at Samuel. “If you truly love each other this much, you should have signed the papers a long time ago, for her sake.” His face went cold. Eleanor looked panicked. “Phoebe… don’t misunderstand. Samuel and I are only doing this for the baby…” “After the baby is born, I’ll leave him.” Someone in the crowd scoffed. “Are you crazy, Phoebe? The Commander and Ms. Eleanor are in love. They have a child on the way. And you’re still trying to break them up?” “Don’t you know that makes you the other woman?” The speaker was Corporal Davis, one of Samuel’s subordinates and his biggest supporter. None of his men thought my background was good enough for him. “Please, don’t say that about Phoebe…” Eleanor pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s all my fault…” Seeing her cry, Samuel’s heart melted. He comforted her for a long moment before turning his fury on me. “Phoebe, how many times do I have to tell you to behave?” “Eleanor has the kindest heart. Does it make you happy to see her cry?” I knew he only had eyes for her. It didn’t even hurt anymore. “You’re right. My mistake. I’ll leave.” I turned to go, but Eleanor rushed forward and grabbed my arm. “Phoebe, no… I should be the one to leave, not you…” I tried to pull my hand free. In the next second, her expression changed. She threw herself backward, crashing into a nearby table. A pot of hot tea overturned, splashing onto her arm. She screamed in pain. “Eleanor!” Samuel shoved me aside and ran to her. The force of his push sent me stumbling into a chair, the corner digging sharply into my back. Pain flared through my body, aggravating my existing injuries. “Samuel…” Eleanor whimpered, cradled in his arms, a red blotch already forming on her skin. “It’s not Phoebe’s fault, it was me…” Her words were meant to sound like a defense, but they only fueled Samuel’s rage. “Phoebe! Do you have to be so malicious? Do you have to hurt her?” “Fine. Words don’t get through to you. Maybe I need to teach you a lesson you’ll remember!” He cupped Eleanor’s injured hand, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. “Eleanor, she hurt you. What should her punishment be?” Eleanor feigned reluctance. “Samuel, we shouldn’t…” His voice was grim. “You’re too kind! A vicious woman like her needs to be punished!” “Even if you wanted her dead, she would deserve it!” The guests stared at me with amusement and contempt. A chill washed over me. The whole situation was laughable. Ten years together, seven years of marriage, and he didn’t have a shred of trust in me. Eleanor didn’t even have to try. She won without a fight. Finally, Eleanor spoke, her voice laced with false sympathy. “The hot water spilled on me… so I suppose it’s only fair she gets the same.” Samuel didn’t hesitate. “Davis,” he commanded. “Fetch a bucket of hot water!” Davis ran to the kitchen and returned with a steaming bucket. My pupils shrank. I backed away instinctively. “Samuel! You’ll kill me!” “You know my health is poor…” A few years ago, during a major flood, he had been on the front lines and gone missing. I had searched for him for three days and nights, wading through the floodwaters. A falling tree had crushed my leg, but I ignored the pain and kept searching until I found him. The wound became infected from the contaminated water, and I was hospitalized for three months. Ever since, my immune system has been compromised. I’m prone to infections and allergic reactions. A major burn could be a death sentence. He paused. But then Eleanor moaned beside him. “It’s fine, Samuel, I’m okay…” His expression hardened. “You hurt her first. This is what you deserve.” “If you die, you’ll have brought it on yourself!” My heart clenched. I stared at him in disbelief. When he had learned how badly I was injured saving him, he had cried, staying by my bedside, caring for me himself, terrified I would have the slightest discomfort. When the doctors told him about the permanent damage to my health, he had held me, his eyes red, and promised he would protect me, that he would nurse me back to health no matter how difficult it was. But now… everything had changed. He nodded at Davis. Davis and another man blocked my path. He smiled cruelly, advancing with the bucket. Seeing the steam rising from the water, I tried to run. They grabbed me and forced me to the floor. “Ms. Xie,” Davis sneered, “if you just accept your punishment, it will be over quickly. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee things won’t get… messy.” I shook my head, screaming for help. No one moved. They all knew who held the power here. Davis laughed, and lifted the bucket. SPLASH— A wave of scalding water crashed over me. I curled into a ball, trying to shield my head with my back. Searing pain exploded across my skin. I screamed. The world went dark at the edges. I lay on the floor, my body convulsing. The air filled with the sickening smell of burned flesh. It felt as if my skin was being peeled off. Davis laughed again. “Well, look at that, Ms. Xie. I didn’t know you could breakdance.” The crowd joined in the mockery. My body twitched in agony, a roar filling my ears. Through the haze, I heard Samuel’s voice, cold as a blade. “You deserve it! You hurt Eleanor, you pay the price!” I struggled to lift my head, my vision blurred with pain. I could only see his distorted, monstrous silhouette. Nothing remained of the man I once loved. I stared at him, a white-hot hatred consuming me. He knew what he had done to my body, how fragile I was. And still, he did this, just to please her. “You’re right. It is my fault.” “My mistake was ever knowing you.” My empty, numb gaze seemed to unnerve him. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but he quickly suppressed it. “Still unrepentant, Phoebe?” “It seems you haven’t suffered enough!” He snatched another bucket of hot water from Davis and poured it over me. A piercing scream ripped through the club. Every cell in my body was on fire. My exposed skin was blistering and peeling away. Still not satisfied, he grabbed my raw, burned hand and dragged me in front of Eleanor. “If you still won’t admit you’re wrong, then you will kneel here and beg for her forgiveness!” “Nine hundred and ninety-nine times. We’ll be done when you’re done!” I was numb with pain. I looked up at him. “If I do it, will you sign the papers?” His eyes blazed. He couldn’t understand why I was being so defiant. In the past, he only had to raise his voice, and I would crumble. Today, I wouldn’t break. I repeated, “Promise me, and I’ll do it.” He looked like he wanted to strangle me. Eleanor put a hand on his arm. “Samuel, just agree. She’s in a pitiful state.” He took her hand, his voice softening. “Alright. Whatever you say.” Then he glared at me. “Fine, I promise!” Eleanor shot me a triumphant look. “Phoebe, this is your only chance. Don’t waste it.” I fought through the pain, forced myself to my knees, and began to bow my head to the floor. One after another. Blood and sloughed-off skin smeared the tiles. My whole body felt like it was splitting open. It was a horrific sight. I continued like a machine, feeling nothing. Samuel’s expression, however, grew darker and darker. Someone in the crowd murmured, “This is too much…” “She shouldn’t have crossed Ms. Eleanor. Everyone knows she’s the Commander’s whole world.” Eleanor beamed at the comment and kissed Samuel again. I ignored them. My indifference seemed to spoil his mood. Suddenly, he spoke. “Phoebe is badly hurt. If she keeps this up, she might actually die.” “How about this instead? If she drinks a cup of urine, I’ll call it even.” She smiled sweetly. “They say urine is a natural antiseptic. It would be good for her wounds.” My head snapped up. Before I could speak, Samuel said, “Enough.” For a second, I thought he’d found his conscience. But then he continued, “We’ll do as Eleanor says. She’s a teacher. She knows what she’s talking about.” “This is for your own good,” he added, as if granting me a great favor. I laughed, a silent, broken sound. I was a fool to think he had any humanity left. He would do anything to please her. My laughter seemed to make him uneasy. He lowered his voice. “Phoebe, just drink it, and we can go back to how things were.” “After the baby is born,” he whispered, “we’ll be happy again.” I smiled. After torturing and humiliating me for her, he thought we could just go back? Seeing that I wasn’t responding, his patience wore thin. “Davis! Hold her down! Make her drink it!” Davis and two other men pinned me. Eleanor returned with a bowl of foul-smelling liquid and handed it to Davis with a smirk. “Don’t waste it, Phoebe.” Davis brought the bowl to my lips. The stench made me gag. I shook my head, struggling, fighting with everything I had left. The movement tore at my burned skin, and fresh blood welled up. Samuel’s voice was suddenly gentle. “Phoebe, it’s for your own good.” “Be a good girl. After you drink it, I’ll take you to the hospital.” I stared at him with pure hatred, but Davis forced my head toward the bowl. The overwhelming pain and humiliation finally consumed me. A wave of blackness washed over me. I coughed up a mouthful of blood and collapsed. I was dying. The last thing I saw was Samuel’s panicked face rushing toward me.

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The second I was reborn, I signed the divorce papers without a moment’s hesitation. Terry Vance’s mistress was all over the news. To save her from the “homewrecker” label, he’d come to me with the papers, his voice pleading. “Leo died saving my life,” he’d begged. “Molly is his only sister. I can’t just abandon her. You understand that, don’t you?” Years ago, Terry had been targeted by a business rival. His car’s brakes were cut. In the final, spinning moments of chaos, his best friend, Leo, had thrown himself into the driver’s seat, wrenching the wheel. Terry walked away without a scratch. Leo bled out on the asphalt, his last breath a plea for Terry to look after his little sister, Molly. For years, Terry had honored that debt, showering Molly with a devotion that bordered on obsessive. In my last life, when I realized he was willing to sacrifice me for her, I shattered. I tore the divorce papers to shreds. But it ended the same way. The stomach cancer diagnosis came later. By then, I was ready to let Terry go, to let myself go. But Molly’s whispered words, “Do you think she’s faking it just to torture you, Terry?” sealed my fate. He became convinced I was lying, that my illness was just another manipulative game. To escape the media storm and finalize our split, he framed me for cheating and sued for divorce. Hopeless, I ended my own life. 1 “Vivian, we’ll tell the public we were planning to divorce a year ago. We’ll say we kept it quiet for personal reasons.” I was staring into a glass of water on the restaurant table when Terry’s voice cut through my thoughts. Just yesterday, the paparazzi had released photos implying Molly was his lover. The word “mistress” exploded online, and a tidal wave of hate crashed down on her. Terry Vance, CEO of Vance Corporation, was branded an adulterer, and the company’s stock plummeted overnight. In my last life, I’d laughed at those grainy photos, scoffing at how easily the public could be misled. My laughter died on my lips the moment Terry slid the divorce papers across the table. It turned into a bitter, endless irony. I had screamed at him then, demanding to know what was real and what was a lie. There were a million ways to handle a baseless rumor, yet he chose the one that threw me to the wolves. “Vivian,” Terry’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Trust me, this is just for show. Once the dust settles, we’ll get married again.” I slowly lifted my head, my gaze falling on the document between us. “You have to understand, Vivian. I’ll make it up to you when this is all over, I promise.” He wrapped an arm around me, his eyes, so often lauded for their depth and sincerity, searching mine. He softened his voice, a low, cooing tone he used when he wanted something. I remained silent. Standing beside him, Molly looked ghostly pale, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Vivian, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m begging you, please help us.” “My brother is gone. I have no one else… I don’t know who else to turn to. Please.” With that, she went rigid, as if to drop to her knees. Terry moved like lightning, catching her by the waist and pulling her into his arms. “What are you doing?” he hissed at Molly, but his sharp, irritated glare was fixed on me. “I’ve already made my decision. I expect you to cooperate at the press conference tomorrow. Or else—” “I’ll sign.” I cut him off, tired of watching their pathetic charade. And I knew exactly what “or else” meant. In my last life, not long after I tore up the papers, I was drugged and photographed in a compromising position with a stranger. The “evidence” of my affair was leaked. Overnight, I went from being the victim to a reviled slut. And they, the ones truly at fault, walked away clean, their reputations scrubbed spotless. 2 Terry blinked, clearly stunned by my quick agreement. “I’ll sign,” I repeated, “but on one condition.” I looked up at him, my gaze as calm and still as a frozen lake. A complex emotion flickered across his face. After a short pause, he nodded. “Anything. Name any other terms you want. I’ll do my best to meet them.” I didn’t answer. I just picked up the pen, flipped to the last page of the agreement, and signed my name—Vivian Sterling—with a steady, clean stroke. “You’re not even going to read the terms?” Terry’s brow furrowed, his eyes filled with a confused, searching light. I smiled faintly. “No need. It doesn’t matter.” I capped the pen and pushed the document toward him. “Is there anything else?” My voice was flat, as if I were discussing the weather. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. We’ll go to the courthouse.” I gave a slight nod but said nothing more. Terry’s expression was a tangled mess of emotions, but in the end, he just sighed, turned, and left. Molly followed him. At the door, she paused, glancing back at me from the corner of her eye. A smirk played on her lips. Slowly, deliberately, she mouthed three words: I won. Then she was gone. In my last life, she did win. And I lost everything. But this time, I refused to lose. Not one single thing. A while later, my phone screen lit up. A message from Ryan. Viv, I heard from Terry. I know what he did was wrong. But you know how long it took him to get over Leo’s death. He’s pouring all his guilt for Leo into taking care of Molly. He told me that once the media storm dies down, he’s going to throw you another, even grander wedding. Just trust him, okay? I let out a soft, humorless laugh, but my eyes burned with tears. It was the same script as last time. When Terry couldn’t get me to sign the papers, he’d turned to his friends for advice. He’d forgotten that his friends were also my friends. Blinded by his own drama, he couldn’t see the truth. But Ryan could. Ryan had tried so hard to talk sense into him, begging Terry not to throw away his marriage for Molly. Then he’d come to me, singing Terry’s praises, telling me what a loyal and honorable man he was. If Leo hadn’t shielded Terry with his own body, Terry would be dead. Back then, I had sobbed, my words choked with rage. “He’s put her first for years! I know he feels guilty, and I’ve tried to be understanding. But now… there are a million ways to clear up this mess, and he chooses to sacrifice me—to sacrifice twelve years of our life together.” Ryan had opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had asked Terry the same question. Terry’s answer had been chillingly simple: “Someone has to get hurt. I can only fail Vivian. She loves me. She’ll understand my position.” Just because I loved him, I was the one to be sacrificed? What kind of twisted logic was that? Thankfully, this time, I still had a chance to save myself. 3 When it came to Molly, Terry was ruthlessly efficient. He got the signed papers from me one day and scheduled a press conference for the next morning. I was sitting in the garden when Terry’s assistant, led by our housekeeper, approached me. “Ms. Sterling,” he said, his tone formal. “Mr. Vance sent me to escort you to the Vance Corporation press conference.” Before I could reply, he must have mistaken my silence for refusal. He relayed Terry’s message verbatim. “Ms. Sterling, even if it’s not for Mr. Vance’s sake, you should attend for the sake of your own reputation.” I paused, then let out a small, dry chuckle. He was threatening me again. Afraid I’d back out at the last minute, resorting to the same tactics that broke me in my past life. He was willing to ruin me to protect Molly, to bend me to his will until I had no choice but to obey. I’d never understood it. In Terry’s heart, was I his wife or his enemy? Now, he wanted to publicly clarify our relationship. So did I. The car glided toward Aethelburg’s most luxurious hotel. The entrance was a chaotic sea of reporters and flashing lights. The assistant guided me through the throng and into the lobby. “Excuse me, please make way.” Terry’s voice came from behind. I turned. Molly, a vision in a white dress, was on his arm. They looked like a perfect couple. My eyes met Terry’s. For a fraction of a second, we locked gazes, and then he looked away, his expression coolly indifferent. He guided Molly forward, their movements intimate, as if the world around them—including me—didn’t exist. A self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. “Ms. Sterling, is it true that you and Mr. Vance are divorced?” The question came from a young man who looked like an intern, his voice timid. “Yes,” I replied, a polite smile on my face as I nodded. He seemed determined to find a crack in my composure. “But… you and Mr. Vance met in college, didn’t you? You dated for five years and were married for seven…” he pressed on. “Just last month, he bought you a luxury yacht. And the fireworks display for your birthday was the talk of the city…” My smile didn’t waver, but my eyes were distant. “He owed me that.” He missed my birthday because Molly had called him, whispering, “Terry, I miss my brother. Can you stay with me?” The yacht and the fireworks were his apology gifts. In my last life, I’d been so proud of those grand gestures. It never occurred to me to question the reason behind the “compensation.” I only learned later it had all been Ryan’s idea. Terry hadn’t been involved at all. He didn’t even know where the fireworks had been set off. “You say he owed you,” the intern persisted, his voice laced with nervous energy as the surrounding noise faded. “But what about your feelings for Mr. Vance?” Terry’s head turned toward me, his brow slightly furrowed. I smiled, a slow, chilling curve of my lips, and my gaze turned to ice. “I don’t love him anymore.” 4 The intern started to ask another question, but a senior reporter beside him pulled him back. I didn’t stay for the rest of the conference. Once I had clarified my relationship with Terry, I turned and walked away, ignoring the cameras that followed my every move. Overnight, public opinion did a complete 180. My interview dominated the headlines for days. Terry’s statement was the nail in the coffin: “Miss Molly was not the reason for the breakdown of our marriage,” he had said, his voice firm and resolute. “Her brother was a hero who saved my life. Molly is his only living relative, and it is my responsibility to care for her. Please, look at this situation rationally.” “Vivian and I mutually decided to end our marriage a year ago. We simply hadn’t found the right time to announce it. We wanted to handle this in a way that would cause the least amount of pain to everyone involved. We are making this public now to clear up any misunderstandings about Miss Molly.” Instantly, Molly was absolved. The “homewrecker” label was peeled away, and she was recast as the tragic, innocent victim of the whole affair. And I became the villain. The cold, heartless woman who had initiated the divorce. The internet trolls, guided by carefully placed whispers, began to speculate about the real reason for our split. I wasn’t supportive enough. I was jealous of Molly. I had twisted their pure, sibling-like bond into something sordid. I was a gold-digger who had abandoned Terry for a bigger payout… I stood at the center of a storm of accusations and lies. “Don’t pay any attention to what they’re saying online,” Terry said as we walked out of the courthouse, the fresh divorce decree in his hand. “Give it time. People will forget.” I shot him a look dripping with irony. We were both being savaged online, but somehow, Molly’s pain was unbearable while mine could simply be weathered with time. “Vivian, the holidays are only three months away,” he continued, his voice softer now. “You always loved the spring. When spring comes, we’ll have another wedding. A better one. What do you say?” His voice was low and gentle, laced with a fragile, cautious hope. He reached for my hand, but I shifted away, my eyes fixed on the reporters being held back by bodyguards a short distance away. Terry seemed to sense his misstep and took a half-step back, creating a space between us. “Terry, I’m going back to Willow Creek.” “That’s a good idea. Spend some time with your parents. I’ll come get you for the holidays and we’ll—” “I’m not coming back,” I said, cutting him off. He froze, the faint smile on his face stiffening. “Vivian, don’t say things you don’t mean. Just wait for me in Willow Creek. I’ll—” “Terry,” I interrupted him again. “You made me a promise when I signed those papers. It’s time to keep it.” He stared at me, his expression blank. When this all began, a small, foolish part of me had wondered if things could be different this time. But the moment he put those papers in front of me again, all I felt was a profound sense of release. “Terry Vance, I want you to never appear before me again for the rest of your life.”

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Six years. Six years since I’d run away with our unborn child. Now, the prodigal son of one of the city’s most powerful families was here to take him from me. I refused. I booked a flight for that very night. But as we were about to board, my son wrenched his hand from mine and screamed. “She’s not my mother! She’s a kidnapper!” Genetics, it turned out, were a terrifyingly powerful force. He had met Alex McCloud’s little gold-digger just once, and already, he loved his “new mommy” more. So I turned around. I dropped everything. Including him. I had a friend arrange my fake death. After that, I heard Alex and my son turned the entire city upside down looking for me. 1. Alex found me while I was enrolling our son in school. A fleet of black cars lined the street outside, a parade of wealth and power. It was his signature style. He kicked the door open. Before I could even look up, he grabbed the hand I was using to sign the forms. His voice was cold, leaving no room for argument. “Leo Wen will be Leo McCloud from this day forward.” Leo Wen. My son’s name. My whole body went rigid. I never thought I would see Alex McCloud again. Six years ago, he’d thrown open my bedroom door and shoved the woman he kept on the side onto my bed. He’d kissed her deeply, his hands already unknotting his tie. “Not leaving?” he’d smirked. “Want to stick around for the main event?” The woman on the bed shot me a triumphant smile. “Darling, this bed you made is heavenly. What, you want to join us?” I walked out with my head held high. I waited on the sofa for Alex all night. He finally emerged, his chest bare. “Alex,” I said, my voice steady. “Let’s end this.” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He sauntered over, his tone as arrogant as ever. “Upset, are we?” Suddenly, the whole charade felt pointless. Alex and I were supposed to have been a business merger, a union of two powerful families. But then my parents died in a car crash. We hadn’t gotten married yet. After that, he stopped pretending. He brought woman after woman into our home. This new one, I’d heard, had lasted three months. A new record for him. “Anya,” he murmured, his expression softening as he leaned in to kiss me. “Just say the word, and I’ll kick her out.” There was still a smudge of her lipstick on the corner of his mouth. I shot to my feet and threw my handbag square in his face. “You’re a fucking scumbag, Alex McCloud.” His face went blank. He just watched, motionless, as I turned, walked out the door, and sped away. I blocked him on everything. I never told him I was pregnant. I didn’t run far. In this city, Alex McCloud was king. If he wanted to find me, he could. But he never even looked. Until today. A woman in red stilettos stepped out from behind him. The same woman from six years ago. Isabella. She waved at my son. “Leo, darling, want to come live in a big mansion with Isabella?” 2. Leo’s big eyes blinked, clearly intimidated by the crowd of imposing figures. I immediately crouched down, pulling him into my arms, shielding him. My voice was ice. “Alex, we broke up a long time ago. My son has nothing to do with you.” I hated Alex. But Leo was the child I had nearly died to bring into this world. I was allergic to the anesthetic. Ten hours of labor without an epidural. I almost bled out on the operating table. After my parents were gone, Leo was all I had left. My palms were slick with sweat. Isabella smiled sweetly at Leo. “Leo, if you don’t come over now, I’m going to have to leave.” She made a show of turning away. And the small body in my arms stirred. Leo pulled his hand free and shoved me away with all his might. “What are you doing?! Why won’t you let me live in a mansion?” I stared at him, my world tilting. “Leo… what are you saying?” I whispered. “You’re so selfish! Why do I have to be poor because of you?” The air left my lungs. My eyes burned. I never imagined those words could come from my own child. After my parents died, my family went bankrupt. But Leo never wanted for anything. He had better clothes, better toys than any of his peers. He was a picky eater, so I took cooking classes, learning a hundred different ways to make him smile at the dinner table. He loved basketball, so I pulled every string I could to get him front-row tickets to see his favorite players. I loved him with every fiber of my being. I poured my entire life into him. And now… Isabella burst into laughter. “Oh, Anya, your son is just adorable. And you… still as pathetic and unwanted as ever, I see.” I looked up and managed a smile of my own. “What’s the matter? Can’t have one of your own? Is that something you’re proud of?” It was a wild guess, but judging by the way Alex’s face darkened, I’d hit a nerve. He gritted his teeth, enunciating each word with venom. “Anya. You have one day to get his things. I’m coming back tomorrow night to finalize the transfer.” My fists clenched. Alex McCloud always did what he said he would do. Back at our apartment, I ignored Leo. I didn’t cook him dinner. It took him a whole night of being hungry before the truth came out. He’d met Isabella before. 3. “Mama Isabella bought me limited-edition sneakers! She’s a million times better than you!” “My friends’ moms wear designer clothes! And you? You wear cheap junk!” “Mama Isabella smells so nice, not like you! You smell like the cafeteria lady at my school!” I listened, my chest heaving with a pain so sharp it felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t tell if it was rage or grief. Leo had always been clever. Fearing I would scold him, he started crying first, his sobs wracking his small body, but he held his chin up in defiance. And I saw it then. He really, truly didn’t like me very much. How ridiculous. Six years of my life, dedicated to him. Every first step, every first word. I had watched him grow with a heart full of hope and pride. And it all meant nothing compared to the “Mama Isabella” he’d just met. He even called her Mama. “Mama Isabella told me everything. She said Daddy doesn’t like you.” His voice was resolute. “Whoever Daddy likes, she’s my real mommy!” I sat on the sofa, a dull, aching numbness spreading from my heart through my entire body. Leo was still sobbing, whining about wanting to go back to Alex’s mansion. He’d met Alex, and Alex had promised him that if he came back, everything in the house would be his. He was only six. Could a six-year-old truly understand the difference between right and wrong, between love and personal gain? Of course, he could. When Alex was six, his father brought him to my family’s company headquarters. He had told me, even then, that he was going to marry me when he grew up. Like father, like son. A perfect match. I stood up, not looking at Leo again. “Fine,” I said. “You can stay here. Alone. And no bedtime story tonight.” I went to my room and locked the door. After a long moment of thought, I called my best friend. “Chloe, cancel the flight. And the car.” “What? What happened?” Before I could answer, a heart-wrenching wail came from outside my door. “Mommy! Mommy, I’m sorry!” “Please don’t leave me here alone! I’m scared!” “Please, Mommy, please!” I opened the door. He threw himself at my legs, clinging to me. His eyes were swollen like walnuts. “Mommy, I’ll be good from now on, I promise. I’ll go with you.” “I’m scared of the dark. I’m scared of being alone.” “Can you… can you tell me a story?” 4. The flight overseas was in four hours. Inside the blacked-out private car, Leo was asleep on my lap, still hiccupping softly in the aftermath of his tears. I’d heard once that after childbirth, hormones hijack a mother’s senses, creating something called “maternal love.” I never believed it. I loved this tiny person willingly, with my whole heart. But tonight, I asked myself a different question. He had just spent the evening telling me how much he hated me. Why did I still give in? There was no answer. I watched the streetlights flash by through the tinted windows. The roads were empty. Alex probably never imagined I would try to run, not tonight. He had always underestimated my hatred for him. There was a time I truly believed he loved me. It started as an arranged marriage, but we had grown up together. Falling in love felt natural. He was a business prodigy, a kingmaker who held the fates of countless companies in his hands. But he was most famous for being “devoted” to me. “Give that project to Anya’s firm.” “Sorry, my girlfriend doesn’t want to partner on this.” “What can I do? If she gets mad, I’ll have to blow up a few buildings to make fireworks for her.” But after my parents died, he changed completely. The women in his bed became a revolving door. One night, I overheard him on the phone. “They died at the perfect time. I was so sick of her. If it wasn’t for her family’s money, who would bother playing house with her?” My family’s destruction. In his words, it was “the perfect time.” The memory still made my breath catch in my throat. But as long as I could get out of this city, it would all finally be over. I never saw it coming. Right before we boarded, my son tore his hand away and screamed at the top of his lungs. “She’s not my mother! She’s a kidnapper, she’s trying to take me away!” I froze. The screen of his smartwatch was lit up. He yelled into it. “Mama Isabella, are you here yet? Come and save me!” A commotion erupted at the terminal entrance. The roar of multiple car engines cut through the night. Leo flashed me a triumphant, toothy grin. “You wouldn’t tell me a story. But Mama Isabella will!” 5. Alex was already waiting nearby. He stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, Isabella clinging to his arm. The second they approached, Leo ran straight into her embrace. “Mama Isabella! Her passport, the birth certificate, it’s all in her bag!” The world started to spin. I could barely stand. How could this be happening? Leo… I watched the doctors clean him off and place him in my arms. He was my child. There was a time when Alex and I would stand together, and people would ask when we were setting a wedding date. “Such a perfect couple,” they’d say. “Imagine how beautiful your children will be.” He would kiss my cheek softly and laugh when I blushed. After I left, Isabella took my place. Everyone said she was just my replacement, that she looked a little like me. But I knew the truth. Alex didn’t love me. This wasn’t what love looked like. I had long ago given up on the dream of a happy family with him. But why? Why was my own son standing with them? A bitter, corrosive acid churned in my stomach, and I nearly threw up. I leaned against my suitcase to keep from falling. Alex’s brow furrowed, but his voice was as cold as ever. “The bag. Don’t make me take it from you.” I let out a hollow laugh, unclipped the strap from my shoulder, and tossed it to him. He looked surprised by my compliance. One of his men unzipped it. It was all there. Birth certificate, passports, IDs… everything. Leo cheered. “Daddy, does this mean I can live in the big mansion forever?” Alex grunted in agreement, a rare warmth in his eyes as he looked at our son. The sight was both strange and sickening. “And can Mama Isabella tell me stories?” “Of course.” Isabella’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. Leo ran back to me and pushed me hard. “You’re not my mommy anymore! I have a new mommy now!” I think the pain had finally numbed me. I couldn’t feel anything. Something inside of me simply… broke. A new mommy? I smiled to myself, a cold, dark thing. I was almost curious to see how long Isabella could play the part of doting stepmother. 6. I went back to the apartment to pack Leo’s things. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want that. He said his new mommy would buy him better things. So I threw it all in the trash. Including the photo albums. A professional portrait for every year of his life, from birth to age six. Leo watched me, then tilted his head. “Mommy, don’t you want those?” Want them? Why on earth would I want them? He was so used to my one-sided love, he couldn’t even comprehend it ending. I smiled at him. “I’m not your mom, remember? They’d just take up space.” His little brain seemed to short-circuit. He stared at me blankly for a moment. Then he stomped his foot and pouted. “You’re right! You’re not my mommy!” After I’d packed his one small bag, I walked him down to Alex’s car. He was practically vibrating with excitement. I didn’t look at him one last time. He didn’t look at me. From now on, he was Leo McCloud. I called Chloe. “Hey, if I needed a death certificate, I bet you could make that happen, right?” “Holy shit! Are you serious?” “I’m done, Chloe. I just want a new life.” “Say no more. When do you want to die? Give me a week to make it look good.” I thought for a moment. A week was perfect. “Next Wednesday, then.” It was perfect. It was Leo’s birthday. I wanted him to remember, for the rest of his life, that his birthday was the anniversary of his mother’s death.

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For my eighteenth birthday, my brother finally decided to throw me a party. When it was time for pictures, he shoved my face into the cake, completely ignoring the plastic support rods inside. My adopted sister, Luna, flashed her sweetest smile for the camera while the world through my left eye blurred into darkness. Later, while I was getting stitched up at the hospital, Luna posted two photos to her Instagram. One was her early acceptance letter to Northwood University. The other was a selfie of her and my brother, Ethan, at Disneyland. The caption read: 【My dream school and my favorite person, all mine on this special day. PS: My brother’s surprise was HILARIOUS!!!】 So that was it. My “birthday party” was just a surprise for Luna. This time, I didn’t throw a tantrum. I didn’t scream or cry. I simply liked the post and left a comment: 【From now on, every day will be special. Because he’s all yours, forever.】 Then I turned and accepted my own early admission offer from MIT. 1 “Zoe! What the hell was that comment? Luna’s coughing up blood because of you! Do you have any idea she just got her acceptance letter from Northwood today? You’ve ruined the best moment of her life! Get your ass back here and apologize, or don’t ever call me your brother again!” He hung up before I could say a word. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Luna getting into Northwood was the best moment of her life, but my eighteenth birthday meant nothing? Why… why did he trade my sight for her smile? I pressed a hand over my bandaged left eye, biting my lip to hold back the tears. The doctor said crying would only make the recovery worse. But the injustice of it all was a suffocating weight. Luna’s blood was fake. Mine was real. After Ethan had shoved my head into the cake, I could feel the warm stickiness of blood mixing with the frosting. But he just smiled, satisfied with the picture-perfect shot of Luna’s delighted face. He’d given me a careless glance and said, “Luna wants to go to Disneyland. Wash your face and order yourself some takeout.” Luna had giggled. “Sorry, sis, but that was just too funny!” I couldn’t fathom how someone could find joy in another’s pain. All I knew was that when the doctor told me I might never see out of my left eye again, my heart plummeted into an icy abyss. “An injury this severe,” the doctor asked gently, “where’s your family?” I froze. And I realized, in that sterile white room, that I didn’t have one anymore. My parents were firefighters. They died in the line of duty, saving Luna from a house fire. With their last breaths, they pushed her into my brother’s arms. From that day on, Ethan treated Luna like a sacred medal of honor, a living testament to our parents’ heroism. The fire had damaged her respiratory system, leaving her with a chronic condition. Once, during an argument, she happened to cough up blood, and from then on, I was forbidden from ever “bullying” my little sister. It was like she’d unlocked a new superpower. Any time I did something she didn’t like, she’d produce a dramatic mouthful of blood. I tried to tell Ethan she was using fake blood capsules. I even managed to steal one and show it to him. My reward was three days locked in the attic. He hated liars, he said. That day, the girl who had once craved her brother’s affection more than anything in the world looked at the doctor and shook her head. “I don’t have a family.” 2 I didn’t go home to apologize to Luna. Instead, I opened a bookmarked webpage on my phone and clicked ‘confirm’ on a notification I’d been hesitating over for weeks. It was the official acceptance of my early admission offer from MIT. For years, I had lived in fear of outshining Luna. A few years back, I’d accidentally scored a few points higher than her on a test. She came home and fell gravely ill, her bedsheets stained with blood. I spent three days locked in the attic, forced to write a ten-thousand-word apology letter. Only when I sobbed that I would never dare to steal her spotlight again did Ethan finally open the door. He sighed, his voice laced with disappointment. “She’s your sister, Zoe. Mom and Dad died to save her. You should let her have her moment.” Tears streamed down my face as I nodded. But I had. I had let her. If Luna scored a 90, I made damn sure I never got more than an 85. And still, Ethan’s world revolved entirely around her. Sometimes I wondered who his real sister was. But I never dared to ask. I was too afraid of the suffocating darkness of the attic, of the endless, soul-crushing apology letters. Now, it didn’t matter anymore. I was done with him. With my early admission secured, my high school classes were just a formality. The acceptance also came with a hefty scholarship. I collected the money, got permission from my teachers for an extended leave of absence, and bought a train ticket to Colorado. I had to escape that suffocating house. I had to see the wide-open sky. If I had no home, then the whole world would be my home. 3 I was somewhere deep in the Rocky Mountains when Ethan’s call came through. “What’s this about an extended leave? It was your fault to begin with, so why is it so hard for you to apologize to your sister? Zoe, who taught you to be so stubborn? I say two words to you and you run away from home? Let’s be real, do you even know where you stand? Did you get early admission like Luna? No. You’re not half the student she is, so what gives you the right to run off and give me attitude! You have three days. If you’re not back, then don’t ever bother coming back!” As always, he hung up before I could get a word in. A moment later, a text alert popped up on my screen. My bank account had been frozen. A bitter smile twisted my lips. He didn’t call to see if I was safe after all this time, he just cut off my money… Thank god the scholarship money was in a different account. I didn’t need his pathetic few hundred dollars. 4 Three days later, I didn’t go back. But Ethan didn’t call, or even text. I didn’t care. I headed north, making my way up to Chicago. For two solid weeks, I had zero contact with my family. I’d almost forgotten they existed until a call from Luna shattered the peace. “Oh, sister… where are you? We’re back from our trip, and Maria said you haven’t been home at all. Sister, it was my fault, please come back…” Her voice was frail and pitiful, as if she were genuinely worried about me. But if she really cared, how could she have laughed so gleefully while I was bleeding? Ethan’s voice cut in from the background. “Alright, Zoe, Luna has forgiven you. You can stop this little tantrum now.” A smirk played on my lips. “What did I do that requires her forgiveness?” There was a stunned silence on the other end. Ethan sighed heavily. “Look, I know you’re upset about the cake. But Luna getting into Northwood is a huge deal for her, one of the most important days of her life. You’re her older sister. Don’t be so petty. Let’s just move past this. I’ve unfrozen your card. Come home.” Right on cue, a notification popped up on my phone. He’d transferred me a thousand dollars. It wasn’t even enough for a train ticket home. I truly didn’t understand him. He’d drop tens of thousands on Luna without blinking, but with me, he was a penny-pincher. It wasn’t like our family couldn’t afford to treat us equally. He was just terrified I’d steal her thunder. “No, thank you, Ethan,” I said, my voice flat. “I won’t be needing your money anymore.” “You—!” “Oh, and I’m already on my way back. I’ll be there tonight. Don’t worry about me, I’m just staying one night and then I’m gone.” The line was quiet for a moment before Ethan sighed again, his tone softening. “Zoe, it was my fault. I’m sorry. Please don’t take it out on Luna. I’ll pick you up at the station tonight. We can have a proper family dinner, my treat. A real birthday celebration for you, okay?” Before I could refuse, he pressed on. “I’m heading to the station now. I’ll wait for you at the exit.” And he hung up. I sighed, canceling the shuttle bus ticket I’d just booked. 5 The train pulled in at 5:30 PM. I scanned the crowd at the exit, but Ethan was nowhere in sight. A text came through: 【Something came up. I’ll be a little late.】 I found a bench and sat down. I waited until the sky was pitch black, but he never showed. My calls went straight to voicemail. The last bus home had left two hours ago. With no other choice, I started walking toward a nearby hotel. The streetlights cast long, eerie shadows on the dark pavement. I heard footsteps behind me, quickening their pace. I glanced over my shoulder, but saw nothing. I walked faster. The footsteps behind me matched my pace. I spun around, and a figure darted into the darkness just beyond the reach of the streetlight. My heart hammered against my ribs. I picked up my speed, fumbling for my phone and dialing Ethan’s number again. Still no answer. I held the silent phone to my ear and raised my voice, feigning a conversation. “Hey, Ethan! I’m almost there, can you come down and meet me?” The footsteps behind me suddenly broke into a run. I whipped my head around to see a dark shape sprinting toward me. I bolted. But the gap between us closed with terrifying speed. In the reflection of a storefront window, I could see a hand reaching for me, inches from grabbing my jacket. I saw a person walking in the distance and screamed with every ounce of air in my lungs. “Honey! Help me!” The footsteps behind me faltered. The man in the distance hesitated for a second, then strode quickly toward me. I didn’t think twice; I ran straight into his arms. “Honey! Thank God you’re here!” The figure behind us walked past, pretending to be a casual pedestrian, glancing around aimlessly. When our eyes met for a fleeting second, I saw a flash of raw, bitter hatred in his cold, unsettling eyes. A hand rested gently on my waist, and a calm, steady voice murmured in my ear, “It’s okay. You’re safe. Let’s go.” He pulled me closer, steering me in the opposite direction of the man. My pulse was a frantic drum against my temples. I was just about to let out a sigh of relief when a chill ran down my spine. I looked up at the handsome, composed face of the man holding me, and my stomach clenched. In the dead of night, what were the chances he just happened to be right here? 6 I shoved him away, my phone gripped tightly in my hand. He looked surprised for a moment as my thumb hovered over the emergency call button. “You don’t trust me?” He chuckled softly, a sound that made my hand tremble, and my phone clattered to the pavement. I bent down to grab it, but his hand was already there, covering mine. He picked it up, looked me in the eye, and calmly dialed 911. “Hello? West 51st Street. There’s a man harassing a young woman here.” After he hung up, he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his voice a low murmur. “What happened to ‘honey’?” I was too stunned to speak. He smiled, a slow, easy grin. “The name’s Leo.” 7 Leo and I spent the rest of the night at the police station. By the time I got home the next day, the police had already arrested my attacker. They found a butcher knife and a set of dismemberment tools in his possession. I had been terrifyingly close to becoming a statistic. My hands were still trembling as I pushed open the front door. The familiar aroma of home-cooked porridge filled the air. It wasn’t the scent of our housekeeper’s cooking, which meant… Sure enough, there was Ethan in the kitchen, wearing a cartoon apron, setting a bowl of hot porridge in front of Luna. They were laughing and talking, having seemingly forgotten they’d ever promised to pick someone up. He noticed me and frowned. “Where have you been? You couldn’t find your own way back just because I didn’t pick you up? And what’s with the bandage? Take that ridiculous thing off!” I ignored him, walked to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and chugged it down, trying to wash away the exhaustion. As I walked past him toward the stairs, I didn’t even give him a second glance. “Zoe.” His hand clamped down on my shoulder. I turned. He was still frowning, his expression awkward, as if the words were being dragged from him against his will. “Look… Luna was so worried about you yesterday, she coughed up blood right before we were supposed to leave. I had to take care of her.” I nodded, my voice devoid of emotion. “Okay.” His eyes widened slightly. In the past, I was always the one to back down first. From writing apology letters as a child to begging for his forgiveness as a teen. Any time he offered the slightest olive branch, I would be overjoyed, rushing to forgive him for everything. He was used to a single conciliatory glance from him sending me into a flood of grateful tears. My simple, flat “okay” threw him completely off balance. It even seemed to make him… angry. But before he could scowl any deeper, I pinched the bridge of my nose, feigning impatience. “If that’s all, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long couple of days.” He just stared, speechless. I walked around him, went upstairs, and opened my bedroom door. The sight that greeted me was one of utter devastation. 8 My practice exams were shredded into confetti, marked with angry red X’s and scattered across the floor. My notes from three years of high school were ripped to pieces, drenched in red ink. Carved into my now-empty desk, over and over again, were the words SLUT and DIE. I picked up a fragment of a page. The childish, looping handwriting of the insults was unmistakably Luna’s. “Zoe…” Ethan said from behind me, his voice filled with shock as he took in the wreckage. I turned to look at him, my expression cold as ice. Downstairs, Luna was just finishing her last spoonful of porridge. She placed a fake blood capsule in her mouth, bit down, and then crumpled to the floor with a pained frown. “Ethan… I… it hurts so much…” My gaze remained fixed on Luna, and Ethan’s brows immediately furrowed in my direction. “Stop making a scene the second you’re back!” he snapped at me. He rushed down the stairs and scooped Luna into his arms, his voice softening to a gentle murmur. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m taking you to the hospital right now. Don’t be scared.” Then he looked up at me, standing at the top of the stairs, and shot me a look of pure venom. It was always the same. Even though no one else in the house would ever do something like this, the moment Luna coughed up blood, nothing else mattered. The old me would have probably cried and screamed, desperately trying to explain. But now, I just turned back to my ruined room, quietly cleaned up the mess, and collapsed onto my bed, falling into a deep, exhausted sleep. I didn’t let either of them affect me in the slightest. 9 The next day, Luna shared a news article on her social media. It was about a high school senior who had lost all her study notes right before final exams. Her comment: 【Losing something so important… I bet her exam scores are going to be a disaster, right?】 I glanced at the bag of shredded paper in my trash can and let out a cynical laugh. Before I could even type out a reply, my bedroom door was kicked open. Ethan stood there, his face contorted with rage. “When did you learn to frame people? Luna told me she never set foot in your room, and Maria wouldn’t dare touch your things. Did you really think I wouldn’t see through this pathetic attempt to set up your own sister? If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have gotten so worked up trying to explain herself that she coughed up blood again!” Over his shoulder, I could see Luna, her eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears, the perfect picture of wounded innocence. I scoffed. “I framed her? I just got back last night. How could I have framed her? And look at the carving on that desk. It’s hideous. I have much better handwriting than that.” “Sister…” Luna’s voice trembled as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I know you were hurt on your birthday, but you can’t just hire someone to do this and then throw such horrible accusations at me!” Her words fueled Ethan’s fury. He grabbed my arm, his eyes filled with a level of disappointment and disgust I had never seen before. “And to think I actually felt sorry for you, being out there all alone. I wanted to welcome you home, to make things right. But you just had to push it, didn’t you? You even stooped low enough to go after Luna! People like you should just die out there and never come back!” He shoved me hard. “Get out! And don’t ever let me see you again!” I stumbled backward, barely catching the banister to keep from tumbling down the stairs. I steadied myself and looked back at him one last time. “You almost got your wish.” If it hadn’t been for Leo. Ethan froze. I didn’t say another word. I turned and walked down the stairs. Behind me, I heard Luna’s syrupy voice. “Ethan, don’t you think that was a little harsh?” And his, cold and dismissive. “Don’t worry. She’ll come crawling back in a few days. And when she does, don’t you dare go soft on her. It’s time someone knocked that attitude out of her. The real world isn’t going to baby her like I do.” I looked down as Maria, our housekeeper, pushed my suitcase toward the door. She had hastily packed my things. Her voice was full of apology. “I’m so sorry, Miss Zoe. Mr. Ethan told me to clear out all of your belongings.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Baby me? When had he ever done that?

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I transmigrated into a cliché, high-society romance novel. The heroine’s family had just gone bankrupt, and she was being publicly humiliated by the villain. With a wicked smirk, the villain drawled, “Kiss me. One million dollars.” I rushed forward, threw my arms around his neck, and smeared his face with my lipstick. Then, playing the part of a sweet, innocent girl, I cooed, “Oh, darling, I hope I don’t kiss you into bankruptcy.” 1 On the 7,001st day of being so broke I considered reporting my own poverty to the police, I was suddenly transported into a book. It was a high-society Mary Sue novel, and I had become the young heiress whose family had just lost everything. But whether the family was rich or broke didn’t really matter. This was a Mary Sue novel, after all. The default setting was that every man alive was hopelessly in love with me. Having read the entire book, I could best describe it as: The Heroine and Her Army of Simps. The man in front of me, however, was the one exception. The only man in the entire book who wasn’t a total simp. He was also the main villain—Tim Thorne. Tim leaned back in his chair, the picture of lazy arrogance, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His eyes swept over me for a moment before he spoke, his voice dripping with scorn. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Our dear Miss Monroe.” The others in the private room took their cue, chiming in with glee. “The Monroe Corporation collapsed, didn’t it? I bet the debt collectors have worn a path to your door.” “Life without money must be tough.” “Hey, we were classmates once, Mia. If you beg me, maybe I’ll spare you a few bucks.” Tim let out a short, sharp laugh, flicking ash from his cigarette with careless grace. “What do you say? Feel like begging?” The laughter in the room grew louder. “Alright, how about this,” Tim said, as if making a grand concession. “Begging is probably too hard for you. How about kissing?” His gaze swept across the room. “Kiss anyone in here. Including me.” “One kiss,” he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips, “is worth a million dollars.” The room erupted in cheers. I could see it in their eyes—the glee, the tension, the eager anticipation. And in Tim’s eyes, pure, cold indifference. In the original novel, the heroine, unable to bear the humiliation, stormed out in a tearful rage. But I wasn’t the original heroine. I was broke. Looking back on the 7,001 days of my previous life, had there ever been an easier way to make money? Absolutely not. With all eyes on me, I walked straight toward Tim. I didn’t just stop in front of him; I sat down right on his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. Jaws around the room practically hit the floor. I looked into Tim’s eyes and whispered, “Are you serious about this?” He raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” Well, then. He couldn’t blame me for what came next. I cupped his face, held his head, and, like I was using a rubber stamp, eagerly began plastering his face with kisses. With each kiss, I chanted silently in my head: A million. Another million. And another million. The room grew quieter and quieter, until the only sound was the wet smack of my lips against his skin. …It was actually pretty embarrassing. A wave of belated awkwardness washed over me, but I wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. I summoned my courage, planted a few more for good measure, and then finally let him go. Tim was completely dumbfounded. In fact, everyone in the room was dumbfounded. You could have heard a pin drop. I slid off his lap, calmly smoothed down my dress, and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. Tim stared at me, sputtering. “You—you—you—” Afraid he was about to back out of the deal, I put on my most innocent, doe-eyed expression. “Oh, darling,” I cooed, “I’m not going to kiss you into bankruptcy, am I?” “Don’t be ridiculous.” Tim snapped back to his usual arrogant self in a second. “You could glue your lips to my face for the rest of your life, and I could still afford it!” “…” I gave him a token round of applause. “Great. Pay up, then.” Tim looked away, his perfectly sculpted fingers yanking at the collar of his shirt. He pulled out his phone and made a call to his assistant, his voice a mask of nonchalance. “Bring me the checkbook.” He looked utterly ridiculous, trying to act cool with bright red lipstick smeared all over his face. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. While we waited for the check, Tim suddenly asked, “How many times did you kiss me? Do you remember?” I glanced at him. He quickly looked away. “No reason. Just, you know, for the final amount.” I shook my head. He turned to the others. They all shook their heads too. A look of exasperated resignation crossed his face. “Fine. We’ll have to check the security footage.” In the end, Tim watched the security footage five times. Only after this meticulous verification did he finally sign and hand me the check. “…” Unbelievable. He was a cheapskate, too. 2 I walked out of that room clutching a check for thirty-five million dollars, my mind reeling. Money had never come this easily. I was half-convinced I was dreaming. Just as I was about to pinch myself, a voice echoed in my head: [Tim Thorne Affection: 5%.] I froze. “What was that?” The voice, which I now recognized as a System, chirped excitedly: [Once Tim Thorne’s affection for you reaches 100%, you can return to your original world!] “No! I don’t want to go back!” I protested. I was dirt poor in my old world. Here, I just made thirty-five million dollars in five minutes. It was a no-brainer. Besides, I was kind of looking forward to the romance part of this novel. A whole cast of handsome men falling all over me? That sounded way better than any power fantasy. The System hesitated. [Well, um…] An idea struck me. “I just won’t try to win him over. If his affection stays at 5% forever, then I can’t ever go back, right?” The System stammered again. [Well, I, uh…] I mentally high-fived myself for my genius. [Ding! Rules have been updated!] The System’s voice was suddenly cheerful. [When Tim Thorne’s affection reaches 100%, you will be able to stay in this world forever!] I was silent for a full five seconds before I found my voice. “Are you kidding me?” The System replied mischievously, [The rules are the rules! The mission timer is one month. Good luck!~] “…” Sensing my despair, the System added: [Thirty-five million dollars, though.] That snapped me out of it. There was nothing more terrifying than being poor. I had to conquer Tim Thorne within a month. But as I thought about the original plot, my head started to ache. Tim was an arrogant, self-obsessed narcissist. How the hell was I supposed to make him fall in love with me in thirty days? “Wait, how did his affection go up by 5% just now?” [He was watching the security footage.] “…” I pleaded carefully, “Is there any way we can make him watch it for, say, three days straight?” [That would depend on his personal willingness.] Apparently, Tim’s personal willingness was quite strong. By the time I went to the bank the next day to cash the check, his affection level had already climbed to 13%. According to the System, he’d spent the entire night watching the footage. I remembered the look of disdain on his face in the club and couldn’t help but scoff. Heh. Men. The check cleared, and my bank account swelled by thirty-five million. I was just wondering where to go on a massive shopping spree when my phone rang. It was Tim. His tone was as arrogant and condescending as ever. “I hear our dear Miss Monroe is a little short on cash?” “Get to the point,” I said, my patience already thin. He was silent for a beat. “Pretend to be my girlfriend for a month. Name your price.” I was shocked. I checked with the System. “I don’t remember this happening in the book.” [Correct. The original plot is now completely off the rails. You are free to improvise.] “…” Was this not a golden opportunity falling right into my lap? I was just worrying about how to get close to him. Tim, impatient with my silence, snapped, “What? Not interested?” “I am,” I purred, switching to a soft, gentle tone. “I’m just curious why, that’s all.” “You don’t need to know why,” he said, his voice cold. “All you need to know is that for the next month, you’re my girlfriend.” I played along. “Okay, darling~” He hung up instantly. A moment later, the System’s cool, metallic voice chimed in: [Tim Thorne Affection increased by 2%. Current Affection: 15%.] I scoffed again. Heh. Men. 3 After hanging up, Tim sent me an address. [Come here.] I glanced at it, put my phone away, and hailed a cab to the city’s largest shopping mall. The System was surprised. [You’re not going?] “No rush.” [A reminder: if you fail to complete the mission within one month, you may be expelled from this world.] “I think a guy whose affection goes up by 13% just from watching a security video all night isn’t going to be that hard to win over.” The System went silent. “Besides,” I added, “with a guy like Tim, you can’t be too eager.” The book’s primary description of Tim was “narcissist.” His narcissism bordered on full-blown arrogance. He believed no woman on earth was worthy of him, which was why he kept his distance from them. Even when faced with the novel’s stunningly beautiful original heroine, he remained unmoved. That was how he ended up as the main villain. But after I showed up and aggressively kissed him, he seemed to be having second thoughts. What kind of narcissist gets a 13% affection boost from watching a video of himself all night? Surely he wasn’t falling for his own on-screen persona. My guess was that Tim Thorne liked a woman who took charge. In other words, he might have a bit of a masochistic streak. For the sake of my mission, I decided to test this theory. After a three-hour shopping blitz, I finally remembered the man I’d left hanging. I arranged for the mall to deliver my purchases to the Monroe mansion and then caught another cab to the address Tim had sent. By the time I arrived, the party was already in full swing. I jogged up to Tim, slightly out of breath. “Sorry I’m late.” He shot me a look of disdain. “What took you so long?” “I was picking out a present for you.” I pushed a tie clip and a watch I’d bought into his hands. “It took a while to choose. I hope you like it.” Tim glanced at me, then looked around at his friends. “See? Now do you believe me?” “The ‘goddess’ you all talk about is head over heels for me. Last night she even…” He clicked his tongue, as if annoyed. “But since she clearly adores me, I’ll let it slide.” “She confessed her love to me last night, and I accepted.” Tim took my hand, which was hanging by my side. “Mia is my girlfriend now.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. Clearly, Tim was savoring this moment. Now I understood why he needed me to pretend to be his girlfriend. He wanted to show off. To use me as a trophy. He was the same old narcissist, alright. To test my theory, I decided to play along with his childish game. I lowered my head, feigning shyness, and then peeked up at him from under my lashes. As if overcome with affection, I placed my hands on his shoulders, stood on my tiptoes, and leaned in to kiss him. A light, quick peck on the lips. Tim froze. Then, his cheeks and ears turned a shade of crimson so deep it was visible to the naked eye. He muttered dismissively, “What are you doing? We’re in public,” but I clearly heard the System’s notification: [Tim Thorne Affection increased by 5%. Current Affection: 20%.] I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. This guy definitely liked it rough. 4 For the sake of my mission, I played the part of the perfect, doting girlfriend in front of Tim’s friends, stroking his ego at every turn. He seemed to enjoy it on the surface, but his affection level didn’t budge. Just as I was starting to wonder if brute force was the only way to make progress, Tim pulled me into a secluded corner of the villa. He leaned against the wall, legs casually crossed, arms folded as he studied me. “You’re actually into me, aren’t you?” “…” I figured he didn’t need my real answer, so I went with my gut. “No.” “Stop pretending,” he scoffed, his expression full of contempt. “It’s obvious you’re crazy about me.” I silently cursed him in my head. Narcissist. Tim continued, his voice dripping with arrogance, “I’d advise you not to get too attached. Because… well, you know. I hate you.” “Why?” “You don’t need to know,” he said, ever the tsundere king. “You just need to know that I hate you.” “…” What a psycho. I grumbled to the System, “Why does he hate me?” The System provided the answer: [At the freshman welcome dance, he asked you for the first dance, and you turned him down.] “That’s it?” I was floored by how petty he was. After a few seconds of frustration, another thought struck me. “Wait, I don’t remember that part being in the book!” The book only mentioned that Tim disliked the heroine but never explained why. [Correct. Now that he’s been promoted to the male lead, his character has been more fleshed out.] I muttered “psycho” again, this time aimed at the System. [I can hear you, you know~] I gave a tight, humorless smile. “I was saying it for you. What’s the point of cursing you if you can’t hear it?” […] The other psycho, Tim, was still on his high horse. “I hope you understand that our relationship is just an act. Outside of necessary public appearances, please maintain your distance.” I let out a dry laugh. “Is this a ‘necessary public appearance’?” “No,” he said. I turned to leave. “In that case,” I called over my shoulder, “I’ll start keeping my distance right now.” For the rest of the evening, I didn’t say another word to him. To any onlooker, it would have seemed like we were having a fight. But I was just deliberately provoking him. With a guy like Tim, who had a touch of a submissive streak, you had to give him the cold shoulder sometimes. Let him stew in it, get all worked up, and watch those affection points climb. By the time I’d turned down the seventh guy who tried to chat me up, Tim’s affection level had finally crept up to 27%. As if he couldn’t take it anymore, he marched over to me. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home.” I followed him without a word. I thought that would be the end of the affection gains for the night, but the real drama was just beginning. As we stepped out of the villa, a sleek, black Rolls-Royce pulled up on the sloped driveway. I assumed it was his and started to walk toward it. But then, the back door opened, and a man stepped out. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, his features sharp and cool, exuding an aura of refined elegance. He walked toward us with a steady, mature confidence. I recognized him instantly. He was the original male lead. Liam. He stopped under the lights, his gaze locking onto me. “Mia, come here.” I hesitated, about to take a step, when Tim’s hand suddenly shot out and gripped mine, squeezing tight. His voice was tense, coming from above my head, laced with command. “Mia, don’t you dare go!”

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I woke up seven years in the future. And apparently, I was married to Jeff Joab—the campus king who’d always despised me. Worse, he was completely obsessed with me. So, the moment I snapped back to my own time, I shot my shot and confessed my feelings to him. But the younger Jeff just stared coldly at the fresh hickey on my neck. “You have a boyfriend,” he said, his voice dripping with ice. “So stop messing with me.” I couldn’t find the words to explain. As I turned to leave, humiliated, he grabbed my wrist, his composure shattering. “Isn’t this what you want? For me to be your dirty little secret?” His voice was a broken whisper. “Just… coax me a little more. I’ll say yes.” 1 I’d eaten way too much for dinner. Sprawled out on my bed, I was scrolling through my phone when my eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted off. When I opened them again, I was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. My mind went blank. But that wasn’t the scariest part. As I scrambled out of bed to survey my surroundings, my eyes landed on a massive wedding portrait hanging on the wall. The couple in the photo was me… and Jeff Joab. I was in a pristine white gown, beaming, my arm linked intimately with his. Jeff, devastatingly handsome in a black tuxedo, was looking down at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated tenderness. If I ignored the fact that we were sworn enemies, I might have actually cooed at how perfect we looked together. Right now, though, my only thought was that the mushrooms I’d had for dinner must have been hallucinogenic. I grabbed my phone to dial 911, but the date on the lock screen stopped me cold. It wasn’t just a different day. It was seven years in the future. While I was still reeling from the shock, the bedroom door swung open and Jeff walked in. He looked different. The boyish edge was gone, replaced by the quiet confidence of a man. He wore a crisp white dress shirt that accentuated his tall, lean frame. His whole aura was calmer, more grounded than I remembered from college. Dare I say it? He had a serious… husband vibe. He noticed me staring, and the cool lines of his face instantly softened. He loosened his tie as he crossed the room in a few long strides and wrapped his arms around me. Before I could even process what was happening, his arms were securely around my waist, and he was nuzzling into my neck, his voice a playful, husky murmur. “Hey, baby. Sorry I’m late. Miss me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just continued in a soft, whimpering tone. “God, I missed you so much. I couldn’t even focus on my damn paperwork, just thinking about you.” Holy crap. Was this the same cold, arrogant campus king I knew? I blinked, pushing him away gently, the sudden intimacy too much to handle. His handsome face immediately crumpled. A shimmer of moisture glossed over his beautiful eyes as his brow furrowed in disbelief. “Sienna… you just pushed me away.” His voice cracked. “Don’t you love me anymore? Tell me! Is there another man?” Stunned by his wounded expression, I awkwardly reached for him again, trying to pull him back into a hug. But Jeff just leaned into my touch, rubbing his cheek against my palm like an affectionate cat, his expression impossibly endearing. My heart melted for a split second. Then I heard him press his advantage. “I knew it. My baby still loves me.” His voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “Wanna take a shower together?” His eyes were locked on mine as his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them one by one. I whipped my head away, my cheeks on fire. I mean, I could tell he had an incredible body, but I wasn’t that easily swayed by a pretty face. Not until I figured out what the hell was going on. I had to stay rational. Besides, this was my arch-rival. How could I possibly be in a relationship—a scandalous relationship—with him? But Jeff was like a siren, wrapping himself around me again. He placed a soft kiss on my forehead, his voice a low, magnetic rumble. “Didn’t you say you wanted to see me in the collar and cat ears?” He leaned in closer. “I already bought the props. You’re not going to bail on me now, are you, baby…?” What the hell? My mind went straight to the gutter. All I could see was a vision of a narrow waist and a toned chest, overlaid with an image of him in cat ears. I was trapped. Jeff continued his assault, murmuring things that made my heart race and my face burn. I fought an internal war for a whole second before finally surrendering. Honestly, what excuse could I possibly give? According to this timeline, we were already married. It wasn’t like I could say no, right? It definitely wasn’t because I was dying to see it. Definitely not. With that thought, I took control, turning the tables by gently biting his lower lip. His eyes darkened with desire, and in one fluid motion, he swept me into his arms and carried me into the bathroom. 2 The next morning, Jeff was already gone when I woke up. I yawned, dragging myself to the bathroom. Staring at my familiar face in the mirror, my mind drifted again. What was the real situation here? From the scattered bits of information on my phone, I pieced together that I was currently unemployed, while Jeff was the CEO of a company. It seemed we were in an arranged marriage, having tied the knot just a month ago. But if I was here, seven years in the future… what happened to my college-aged self? Did she just… vanish? My head swimming with questions, I finished breakfast and decided to go out and explore. But the moment I opened the front door of the villa, I wasn’t outside. I was standing back inside my old apartment, facing my own closed bedroom door. Huh? Did I just… travel back? Thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me, I opened the bedroom door again. And there it was—the luxurious villa from the future. After testing it seven or eight more times, a sharp, incredulous shout escaped my lips. “Holy crap!” It was confirmed. My plain, unassuming bedroom door was a gateway between two timelines. And apparently, time flowed at the same rate in both worlds. Most importantly, I was the only one who knew. Before I could analyze it further, my phone buzzed in my pocket. My best friend, Chloe, had spammed me with messages: “Sienna! Class is about to start, where are you?” “Don’t tell me you overslept! Wake up, this professor is a nightmare about attendance!” “Got you a seat. Get your ass over here!” A jolt of panic shot through me, my precarious grades flashing before my eyes. Forgetting everything else, I grabbed my bag and sprinted to campus. I snuck into the lecture hall and slid into the seat Chloe had saved, letting out a sigh of relief. Then I turned my head. And found myself sitting right next to the younger, college-aged Jeff Joab. Chloe, my dear, sweet friend, what have you done? Oblivious, Chloe leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “See? Great spot, right? Super hidden.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And look, you’ve got a certified hottie sitting right next to you!” I nodded, my soul slowly leaving my body. The lecture was painfully boring. My mind wandered, and I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking glances at Jeff. He was focused on his notes, his head bent low, revealing the elegant line of his nose and his long, dark lashes. An image from last night flashed in my mind—Jeff’s face, flushed and damp, his eyes hazy with pleasure. My cheeks instantly grew hot. Just as I was about to look away, he suddenly turned his head. Our eyes met. 3 His pen paused for a fraction of a second before he looked away, his expression completely blank, radiating a cold indifference that pushed everyone away. So cold. Nothing at all like the clingy, affectionate man from last night. I pouted, fidgeting with my pen. How could the same person be so different at two different stages of his life? Just then, my phone screen lit up. I tapped it open and saw a pinned contact—one I didn’t remember adding—spamming me with messages. [My Wifey, my baby, are you awake yet?] [I miss you I miss you I miss you.] [The new plant I bought looks so good. What do you think, baby?] [Image.jpg] In the photo, Jeff’s shirt was slightly unbuttoned, revealing his sharp collarbones and a few faint, pink marks dotting his skin. He claimed he was showing me the plant, but it was relegated to a tiny corner of the frame. The main event was Jeff himself. He had his head tilted slightly, his captivating eyes staring into the camera, his perfect profile glowing in the sunlight. I was mesmerized. Part of me was trying to figure out how the twenty-seven-year-old Jeff could be messaging me across time and space, while the other part was marveling at how shameless he was, sending me thirst traps first thing in the morning. I typed back: [Mind your image. The internet has rules, you know.] He replied instantly. [Was the plant not pretty enough? Let me take another one.] The new photo was even more scandalous. Jeff had lifted the hem of his shirt, his expression a perfect mask of innocence as he gazed at the camera. The plant was still a tiny green speck in the corner. His smooth, defined abs and the sharp lines of his waist, however, were on full display. Just as I was about to zoom in for a closer inspection, the psychology professor called my name. Staring at the four multiple-choice options on the projector screen, I scratched my head, completely lost. I was about to guess randomly when a cool, low voice beside me said, “It’s A.” I gave the answer, and it was correct. As I sat down, I couldn’t help but glance at Jeff. That was… weird. He actually helped me. But then I saw his gaze flicker down to my phone, where the picture of his future self’s abs was still on full display. I slammed the screen off. Jeff looked away. A strange feeling washed over me as it dawned on me. Right now, in this timeline, the twenty-year-old Jeff and I had nothing to do with each other. So why… Why did I feel so guilty, like I was cheating on him right under his nose? Why on earth did I feel like that? 4 The morning classes finally ended. Sweltering in the heat, I went back to my dorm, changed into a low-cut sundress, and took a much-needed nap. Later that afternoon, as I was passing a boba shop, I spotted Jeff’s tall, slender figure behind the counter. Oh, right. His persona on campus was the “poor but brilliant” scholar. He was probably working a part-time job. A mischievous idea sparked in my mind. I walked in and ordered a milk tea. Jeff acted like he didn’t even know me, his face a cold, emotionless mask as he took my order. But when I got my drink, it was packed to the brim with toppings. I found a table and sat down, chewing on my straw and getting lost in thought. My feud with Jeff started in our last year of high school. I was the rebellious new transfer student. My homeroom teacher, knowing my grades were terrible, assigned Jeff—the top student in our year—to be my desk mate. He was tasked with keeping me in line. And he took that job very seriously. If I didn’t do my homework, he’d just stare at me silently for the entire study hall until I cracked under the pressure. When I skipped class to go to the internet cafe, he’d take the day off just to hunt me down, humiliating me in front of all my slacker friends. When I started dating a guy from the class next door, Jeff had daily “talks” with him until the poor guy couldn’t take it anymore and broke up with me. He was stricter than my own father. And I couldn’t complain to anyone, because my parents and the teacher were thrilled. Jeff’s methods were exactly what they wanted. Of course, they worked. In that one year, I shot up from the bottom of the class rankings to the top ten and got into the same university as him. I thought I’d finally be free, but he chose the same school and the same major. We even ended up in the same class. Thank god we were adults now. He had no right to control me like he did in high school. …But then again, I was legally an adult in my senior year, too. Was his strictness back then really just about his sense of duty as the class president? A slow realization began to dawn on me. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the future Jeff. [Hubby, you there? I have a question for you.] He replied almost instantly. [I’m here, baby. Ask away! I’ll tell you anything!] I hesitated before typing out the words. [When did you start liking me?] For the first time, he went silent. The “typing…” indicator flickered for what felt like an eternity. Finally, a single word appeared. High school. 5 My eyes went wide. Another message followed, this time a voice note. I pressed play, and Jeff’s voice, deep but tinged with shyness, filled my ear. [That first day of senior year, when you were introducing yourself on the podium. You glanced over at my corner of the room and smiled. It was so bright.] [My heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t until later that I realized… that’s what it felt like to fall for someone.] I chewed on a tapioca pearl, realizing I had zero memory of that moment. Yet, a strange sense of satisfaction bloomed in my chest. All this time, I thought we mutually disliked each other. But to hear from the man himself that he’d been secretly in love with me for years… A wicked idea began to form. I smirked and typed another question. [Hey hubby, if I confessed to your twenty-year-old self, do you think he’d say yes?] Jeff’s reply was instantaneous. [Of course he would, baby.] [You know that no matter what age I am, I could never say no to you.] Damn. He was making me blush. Twenty-seven-year-old Jeff was way too smooth; I felt like putty in his hands. I had to even the score. I needed to go and tease the younger version of him to feel better about myself. It wasn’t because I had a mischievous streak or anything. Definitely not. 6 I waited in the boba shop until Jeff’s shift was over. The moment he stepped outside, I intercepted him. “Jeff,” I said in a low voice, “come with me for a second. I need to talk to you.” I expected him to agree immediately. Instead, he glanced down at me, and the air around him dropped ten degrees. “I’m busy,” he said, his voice flat. Huh? I was floored. What happened to “secretly in love with me” and “could never say no”? Not ready to give up, I instinctively tugged on the hem of his shirt. “What I have to say is really important,” I coaxed. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear it?” He stopped walking. After clearing my throat, I stood on my tiptoes and whispered sweetly in his ear. “Jeff Joab, I like you.” I thought he would be so flustered he’d short-circuit. Instead, he took a sharp breath, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Sienna,” he ground out, his voice laced with anger, “are you this casual with everyone?” Following his gaze, I realized something was wrong. I looked down and saw it—a prominent, angry-red hickey on my neck. Crap. I forgot to reapply my concealer. Jeff’s lips thinned into a hard line. “You already have a boyfriend. So stop messing with me.” My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. What was I supposed to say? Jeff, calm down, that was actually made by the future you. We just got a little too carried away last night, and now the present you has the wrong idea. Yeah, that would get me committed. Utterly defeated, I turned to walk away. But he grabbed my wrist, his expression completely shattered. “Isn’t this what you want? For me to be your dirty little secret?” His voice dropped to a broken whisper. “Just coax me a little more, and I’ll say yes.” Wha… what? My brain went blank. Was he… was he willing to be the other man? But I wasn’t actually cheating on anyone! “You’ve got it all wrong,” I stammered. “I don’t have a boyfriend right now.” Just then, my phone screen lit up with a series of notifications. [Baby, I got us a reservation at that steakhouse you love.] [Want to go out for dinner tonight?] Jeff saw them all. He also saw the contact name I had saved for the sender: My Super Clingy, Super Hot Husband. The light in his eyes instantly faded. Well, shit. Now there was no explaining my way out of this one.

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My marriage to Victor Hayes was a business arrangement. On our wedding night, as I offered to sleep in the guest room, a line of text materialized before my eyes. 【No! Don’t you dare sleep in the guest room! I have a severe allergy to fade-to-black scenes!】 【He’s putting on a brave face, but hearing you say that just shattered his world!】 【Just look at your husband! He’s been secretly in love with you for ten years!】 【And to think Victor wore those sexy shirt garters just to seduce his new wife… all for nothing! LOL!】 Shirt garters? Well, now I have to see. 1 It was ten o’clock at night. After playing the perfect hosts to our guests, Victor and I finally left the family estate. The leg that had been trapped in high heels all day throbbed with a dull ache. I couldn’t help but reach down and rub it. “What’s wrong? Are you uncomfortable?” Victor, who had been immersed in work on his tablet, noticed my awkward posture. “Yeah, it’s been a while since I wore heels. My legs are killing me.” The words had barely left my lips when a warm hand settled on my shoulder, gently guiding me to sit up straight. Victor leaned down, slipped off my heels, and lifted my legs onto his lap. Realizing what he was about to do, I instinctively tried to pull back. “I can do it myse—” “—Let me.” His grip on my calf was gentle but firm, a silent command not to move. It was a battle I lost in a single second. I stopped struggling. Victor’s massage was perfect—the pressure just right, the warmth of his hands seeping into my sore muscles. The discomfort and tightness in my legs began to melt away. He carefully rotated my ankle. “If you’re not used to heels, you don’t have to wear them.” “Victor, you don’t get it,” I countered. “A silk sheath dress needs heels to look right.” “Your comfort is more important.” “So, you’re saying I don’t look good?” I tilted my head, my eyes locking with his. His hands stilled for a moment before he averted his gaze. “You look beautiful,” he murmured. Pleased with his answer, I swung my legs playfully. The movement was a little too enthusiastic, and my calf brushed against something small and hard. “Ouch. Your keys are digging into my leg, Victor.” “…” “It’s not a key,” he said, clearing his throat. “Now, stop fidgeting.” Not a key? Then what was it? Before I could ponder it further, the car glided to a stop. The driver’s voice crackled through the intercom. “We’ve arrived, sir.” By the time I’d gathered my things, Victor was already out of the car. Seriously? He didn’t even wait for me! So much for being a gentleman! “Hey, wait up—” My complaint was cut short as he leaned back into the car, hooking my heels with two fingers. Then, he opened his arms to me. “Come on,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll carry you.” 2 I was cradled in Victor’s arms, my head resting against his chest. From this angle, I had a perfect view of the clean, strong line of his neck. The top button of his shirt was done up neatly, resting just below his Adam’s apple. Victor already had that cool, aloof look about him. Dressed in a crisp shirt and tailored suit, he was the epitome of restrained desire. Perfect reference material. As a dedicated artist, I couldn’t resist. My mind began tracing the lines, sketching him out in my head. “What are you daydreaming about?” “Huh?” I snapped out of my very R-rated fantasy. “Oh, nothing.” “Alright,” he said, not pressing the issue. “You must be tired. Get some rest soon.” Once we were inside, I slid out of his arms, feeling a little self-conscious. My suitcase, covered in a chaotic collage of stickers, stood by the sofa. It looked completely out of place in his minimalist penthouse apartment. A bit like us. To call our marriage a business arrangement was putting it nicely. The truth was, my family was nowhere near his league. But years ago, my father had done Victor a great service. Now, he was cashing in that favor, forcing Victor to marry me and, in doing so, bail out my family’s failing company. A month ago, Victor was just the slightly intimidating older guy I’d always kept at a respectful distance. Now, he wasn’t just my “big brother” figure, he was my savior. Definitely someone to be admired from afar, not messed with. So, when he moved to grab my luggage, I lunged for it. “I’ve got it! I’ll just take the guest room, it’s fine!” He paused, then gently took the handle from my grasp. “You’ll sleep in the master bedroom. It’s already been prepared.” His voice seemed to drop a little. “I’ll take the guest room.” With that, he wheeled my suitcase into the master bedroom, leaving me no room to argue. I trailed behind him, trying to think of something else to say, when the strange text floated across my vision again. 【Nooo! Victor, don’t sleep in the guest room! I hate fade-to-black!】 【They’re married! Just do it already! For me!】 【Keep dreaming. Their script is ‘polite strangers.’ There won’t be any spice here.】 【He looks so calm, but hearing her say ‘guest room’ just made his world collapse!】 What was that? Am I hallucinating? I stared blankly at the floating words, so distracted that I walked headfirst into the doorframe. The next thing I knew, Victor had pulled me over to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?!” A warm hand rested on my head. Victor’s brow was furrowed with genuine concern; I’d clearly scared him. I shook my head, but the movement was too sharp, and a wave of dizziness made me gag. He shot to his feet. “I’m calling a doctor.” “Don’t!” I grabbed his arm to stop him. “I’m fine!” Tripping over my own feet is embarrassing enough without an audience. What would a doctor even do? Document my clumsiness for medical science? I held onto his hand, my gaze intense. “I’m really okay! I just… I need to sleep.” The sheer humiliation of it all made me desperate for some alone time. I waved my hands toward the door, issuing a clear dismissal. “You should go get some rest too, Victor!” As soon as I said it, the pop-up comments flared to life again. 【LMAO! My sweet, clumsy girl!】 【Victor, how can you resist pouncing on this adorable dummy?】 【You thirsty animals need to calm down. They aren’t the endgame couple!】 【The fact that Victor put on shirt garters to seduce her is sending me. What a waste!】 What do you mean, not the endgame couple? We literally just got married. My head was spinning. The knock to my head must have been worse than I thought. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the annoying text to disappear. A second later, they snapped open again. Wait a second. What did you just say? Shirt garters?! 3 My eyes darted down to Victor’s long legs. Beneath the impeccably tailored fabric of his suit trousers, I could just make out the faint, raised line of a strap. He seemed completely oblivious to my staring, leaning down to gently pat my head. “Alright, I won’t force you. If you start to feel worse, just call me from next door, okay?” As he bent over, the trousers pulled taut against his thigh, defining the powerful muscle beneath. The strap, once a subtle hint, was now in sharp relief. He really was wearing them. So those pop-up comments… they were real? By the time I processed this, Victor had already turned to leave. “Wait!” My hand shot out to stop him. I meant to grab the hem of his suit jacket. Instead, my brain short-circuited, and my fingers closed around that hidden strap, right through the fine wool of his trousers. Victor’s body went rigid. He turned back slowly, his eyes wide with disbelief. His stare sent another jolt through my brain, and I snatched my hand back. A sharp snap echoed in the silent room. Before I could hide my traitorous hand, he caught it, pulling me forward with a gentle tug. Suddenly, I was in his arms, his large hand pressing against the small of my back, holding me close. “June… what are you doing?” Victor’s voice, usually so smooth and resonant, was now laced with a raw, husky edge. It sent a shiver right down to my toes. “I… I just…” Before I could stammer out an excuse, his lips were on mine. It was a feather-light touch, a question. And before I knew it, my own arms were wrapping around his neck, answering it. June, June, June. Your nerve is truly something else. He paused for a heartbeat, then deepened the kiss, lifting me onto the bed so I was sitting on his lap. It wasn’t until I shifted that I was poked by something hard. I pushed him back slightly, breathless. “Your keys… they’re digging into me.” Victor let me go, his voice unrecognizably hoarse. “I told you. They’re not keys.” So it really was the garter clip. “Victor,” I swallowed hard. “I want to see.” “Can I?” 4 The room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. A storm of emotions flickered across Victor’s face. After what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to speak, his voice strained. “June…” “I just want to look! I swear I won’t take advantage of you!” I rushed to reassure him, afraid he’d say no. “I just… I want to see how they’re different from the ones online.” His brow furrowed. “You’ve seen them on a lot of other people?” “No, never in person! That’s why I can’t get the drawings right.” “Drawings?” “You frequently draw men’s… accessories?” Victor seemed to struggle with the word. “Like this?” Right. He only knew I was an artist. He probably had no idea what kind of art I made. “Mhm, I’m working on a new illustration series featuring shirt garters,” I explained. “I was hoping you could be my model. Would that be okay?” Looking at reference photos online just wasn’t cutting it. I remembered that Victor had played basketball since he was a kid; the muscles in his thighs had to be incredible. That superior physique, combined with his cool, stoic vibe, and the elegant, provocative touch of the garters… Just thinking about it made me drool. “So… you wanted to see the shirt garters?” “Yeah, that’s right!” For some reason, Victor looked visibly relieved. He rubbed his temples, muttering something almost too quiet to hear. “I thought…” Huh? Thought what? 【LMAO OMG, did Victor think she wanted to see his dick?!】 【Victor: I do not understand, but… yes, she can look. Yes.】 Seeing the comments and recalling his conflicted expression, a wave of mortification washed over me. I scrambled to explain. “Victor, I didn’t mean that! I really wasn’t trying to—” “—June, we’re married.” Victor cut me off gently, his gaze fixed on mine. I nodded. “I know.” He pressed his lips together, saying nothing more. Instead, he took my hand and guided it to the metal buckle at his waist. When he spoke again, his voice was as tempting as a siren’s call. “What I mean is, you can do anything you want to me.” “Go on. Unbuckle it.” 5 They were sleek, black shirt garters. One end was fastened high on Victor’s thigh. Maybe because he’d been wearing them all day, or perhaps because his skin was so pale, but the edges of his skin beneath the strap were tinged with a faint pink. The other end clipped to the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric taut and perfectly accentuating his lean, narrow waist. It was strategically positioned, concealing things that were probably best left unseen. But I still saw. It was unavoidable. And the view was… substantial. June had a bit of nerve, but not that much. After about thirty seconds, I scrambled away, my face burning as I grabbed the bathrobe lying nearby. I must have completely lost my mind. Before I even realized what I was doing, I’d ignored Victor’s outstretched hand and clumsily wrapped the robe around his waist. I tried to back away, flustered, but an arm shot out and circled my back, pulling me into his embrace. “Done looking?” “Y-Yeah, I’m good.” God, when did I develop a stutter? “Is that really enough?” Victor asked, as if genuinely curious. “Don’t you need to sketch it?” I shook my head frantically. “Nope, I’ve got it memorized.” A soft chuckle rumbled from above me. “Good girl, June.” I looked up at the sound and fell right into the deep, dark pools of his eyes. The on-screen comments went ballistic. 【WHOA, where did this plot twist come from?! How did things escalate so fast?!】 【I don’t remember this scene in the original story! Did they change it? Is the author finally going rogue?!】 【DO IT! For the sake of your readers! I’m team Victor all the way!】 【YES, PLEASE! FULL STEAM AHEAD!】 【Can the people upstairs shut up? I can’t stand non-canon ships!】 【It’s not gonna happen. The main love interest is about to show up!】 It was like a prophecy. Just as my mind was clouded with lust and I was rising on my tiptoes to steal another kiss from Victor, the shrill ring of my phone shattered the intoxicating atmosphere.

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In the fourth year of our marriage, I realized I didn’t love my husband at all. His hand on my waist made my skin crawl. Our nightly goodnight kiss felt like torture. Even his clothes, fresh from the laundry, seemed to carry a foreign, unpleasant scent. But I was the one who had pursued Nick Shaw so relentlessly. This was the bed I’d made, and now I had to lie in it, even if it meant choking back tears. My unhappiness grew, and I wasted away, day by day. Until one afternoon, I saw a conversation on his phone: 【How could you run out on me at a time like that!】 【She’s too in love with me. What if she couldn’t live without me? I can’t be that cruel.】 【If I hadn’t stepped aside back then, would you have chosen me?】 【Yes.】 That day, my mood lifted for the first time in months. I devoured three whole bowls of egg fried rice. 1 The sofa felt crowded. When Nick sat down, his long legs, clad in tailored trousers, naturally pressed against mine. I quietly shifted two inches away, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. He didn’t seem to notice, surrounded as he was by a circle of fawning acquaintances. This reunion had been orchestrated by an old classmate who needed a favor, and Nick was, without question, the center of attention. He carried himself with an easy confidence, a calm that bordered on aloofness. His usual cool demeanor. “You’re a dark horse, man! A rising star in the business world in just a few years. Leaves the rest of us in the dust!” “Anna, you’re the one who really hit the jackpot! But you’d better keep a tight leash on him. Nick was getting love letters by the bundle back when he was a broke student. Now that he’s made it, the women out there must be throwing themselves at him!” “What’s to be afraid of! The way Anna chased Nick back then was legendary! Now she’s gone from a feisty girl to a gorgeous socialite. She can handle any stray butterflies that come fluttering around!” Amid the chorus of flattery, a woman in the corner let out a sharp scoff. It cut through the noise. “Some people just have all the luck, I guess. It’s amazing how a rich girl stealing someone’s man can be spun into a fairytale romance. I guess it’s true what they say—everyone celebrates the new love and forgets the one who was left crying.” The words hung in the air, and an awkward silence fell over the group. I turned to look at the speaker. I recognized her as one of the many girls who had sent Nick love letters back in the day. Her face was flushed crimson; she was clearly drunk. Nick said nothing, merely lifting his wine glass for a slow sip. I understood his silent command: Stay quiet. Don’t engage. Normally, I would have obeyed. But not this time. “The way you say that,” I said, tilting my head, “you’d almost make people think you and Nick were a couple and I broke you up.” The woman froze, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. “I never said that! Don’t twist my words. I was talking about someone else! Are you going to deny that you took advantage of the situation and snatched him from her?” All eyes were on me now, gleaming with the thrill of impending drama. Her words were nasty, and even if I didn’t want a fight, I had to set the record straight. I looked directly at her. “Sorry to disappoint you, but when Nick and I got together, he was one hundred percent single. And if by ‘someone else,’ you mean—” “That’s enough.” Nick’s voice was sharp, laced with annoyance. He set his glass down on the table with a soft thud, the red liquid sloshing inside. “Anna, it’s just a joke between classmates. Don’t be so dramatic. You’re making a scene.” At his words, the other woman shot me a look of triumphant disdain. I pressed my lips together. Dramatic? Someone insults me, and I’m not supposed to defend myself? But as I opened my mouth to argue, a familiar sensation washed over me. It happened all the time lately. A certain phrase from Nick, a specific gesture, sometimes just the sound of his voice would trigger this strange feeling inside me. It was like the seventh bite of a cake that’s suddenly too sweet, a balloon shriveled and wrinkled, the bitter aftertaste of tea left out overnight. All flavor was gone, leaving only a dull disinterest. Suddenly, the whole argument felt pointless. I closed my mouth. The reunion ended on a cheerful note, with everyone saying their goodbyes. As we turned to leave, Nick reached to put his arm around my waist. I subtly sidestepped, avoiding his touch. His lips thinned. He gave me a long, hard look. 2 Later that night, as we were getting ready for bed, Nick emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp. He was an incredibly disciplined man. Despite his demanding work schedule, he never skipped a workout, maintaining a lean, muscular physique. He was tall, with handsome features that could rival any movie star. There was a time when I was completely captivated by his looks. But now, the moment the door opened, I silently turned off my phone and closed my eyes. I felt the mattress dip beside me, his hot breath ghosting across my ear. “Anna, are you asleep?” His voice was deep, heavy with desire. As his fingers began to explore, I opened my eyes and pressed his hand down. “I’m a little tired today.” He froze for a second, his voice tight with frustration. “You’re tired every day.” “Yes,” I said, pushing his hand away and pulling the covers tighter around me. “I’ve been getting tired easily lately. I’m sorry.” He was silent for a long time, unmoving. I let out a sigh of relief and prepared to drift off. But then, he spoke into the darkness. “You don’t have to be like this.” I was half-asleep. “Like what?” A low, cold laugh. “This act you’ve been putting on lately, in public and in private. It’s all because of Sylvia, isn’t it?” 3 I was stunned, unsure why he was suddenly bringing up Sylvia. It took me a moment to understand what he meant. Sylvia. Nick’s old flame. The “someone else” the woman at the reunion had been talking about. The first time I saw Nick, he and Sylvia were standing side-by-side on a campus path, each holding a stack of books, watching me argue with someone. My new car had knocked over a fruit vendor’s cart, and he was wailing for me to pay for damages and his medical bills. No one in the crowd believed me when I said he’d deliberately run into my car. They all accused me of being a rich, arrogant bully. Just as I was about to be swallowed by their accusations, a clear voice cut through the noise. “Since when is fault in a traffic accident determined by who’s rich and who’s poor?” I whipped my head around and saw him. Nick, in a white shirt, dappled in the light filtering through the trees. Tall, lean, and clean-cut. In that one glance, he found a place in my heart. Before I decided to pursue him, I made a special trip to find Sylvia, the campus beauty from the civil engineering department, and ask what their relationship was. They were always together, and everyone assumed they were a couple. Sylvia toyed with a lock of her long hair, thought for a moment, and smiled. “We’re just classmates from the same hometown.” When Nick heard her answer, he was silent for a few seconds before stating, expressionless, “It’s just like she said.” I grew up wealthy, pretty, and bright. My parents taught me to be brave in expressing my love. I had never met a boy like Nick before. Satisfied with their answers, I launched a full-blown, public campaign to win him over. Nick had fought his way out of a poor, rural town and possessed a fierce pride. He rejected me, saying he wouldn’t date anyone until he’d paid off his ten years of student loans. But back then, my world revolved around him. A rare smile, an occasional agreement to have dinner, a casual show of concern—any of these could send me into a state of euphoria and fuel my determination. I chased him for two years, and for two years, he rejected me. What finally broke through his defenses was his mother’s sudden illness. His entire family was helpless in the face of the thirty-thousand-dollar medical bill. As Nick grew thinner with each failed loan application, I took out my entire personal savings and gently asked him to accept it. That day, for the first time, I saw his helplessness, his vulnerability, and his gratitude. Three months later, he appeared below my dorm with a bouquet of roses. I ran into his arms, my face burning. I was trembling with happiness, and his eyes were red-rimmed too. “Anna, how can you love me so much? How did I get so lucky?” At Sylvia’s wedding, when she saw Nick and me arrive hand-in-hand, a flicker of something unreadable crossed her face. Later, coming out of the restroom, I saw them standing together on the balcony, talking. It was just like the day I first met them. The wind carried snippets of their conversation to me. “…I was waiting for you to say something back then…” “…Anna is a good girl…” “…I guess we just weren’t meant to be…” At the time, I thought, everyone has a youthful crush. She was married now, and Nick was good to me. We were on our own paths. That was all that mattered. But I never anticipated that life could fire an arrow backward, and that it would come with such devastating force. Six months ago, Sylvia got divorced. She had rushed into a marriage with a trust-fund kid, only to suffer infidelity and domestic abuse. He took their child and his family schemed to leave her with nothing. She found Nick, looking haggard and broken. A man always holds a special place for the girl he crushed on when he was poor. The first time she called, Nick was completely thrown. Perhaps to make up for a past regret, or perhaps to show off how successful he’d become, he threw himself into helping her. For the past six months, he has practically dropped everything for her—paying for lawyers, running around gathering evidence, confronting her ex-husband’s family, even spending holidays with her and her child. At first, I told him how uncomfortable it made me. He looked at me with disappointment, his voice cold. “Sylvia is from my hometown, and she was our classmate. She’s a woman who’s been abused and had her child taken from her. She’s at the end of her rope. Shouldn’t I help her?” So, time and time again, I was left behind. Time and time again, when I couldn’t reach him, I’d see him on Sylvia’s social media feed. A photo of his back as he helped her look for an apartment. His suit jacket draped over her sofa. Four hands playing with her golden retriever. Slowly, I stopped saying anything. When Nick didn’t come home, I went to bed early. When he spent a holiday at an amusement park with her and her son, I bought myself a very expensive handbag. Sylvia’s posts no longer stirred anything in me. I almost liked one out of habit. Nick was pleased with my understanding nature and bought me a large diamond as a gift. I expressed the appropriate surprise and gratitude, but when he leaned in to kiss me, I instinctively coughed and turned away. He froze, a complex expression on his face. And it was from that day on that I had a shocking realization: I think I didn’t love Nick anymore. The thought sent a wave of panic through me. No wonder I recoiled from his touch. No wonder his voice grated on my nerves. No wonder his clean clothes smelled so strangely repulsive to me. I didn’t love him anymore. But I didn’t know what to do. Divorce? On what grounds? That I’d fallen out of love? Marriage wasn’t a game, and I was certain no one would believe that reason. In everyone’s eyes, including Nick’s, I was madly in love with him. Because we didn’t get along? Nick wasn’t an expressive person by nature, but objectively, he treated me well—better after marriage than before. When my father’s company faced a crisis two years ago, he didn’t hesitate to invest heavily to save it. Because of Sylvia? I knew Nick. He wasn’t impulsive. Despite their recent closeness, I was sure nothing physical had happened. At least, not yet. I truly didn’t know what to do. I was trapped. I grew more unhappy, thinner. A pupa in a cocoon, seeing only a gray, hopeless world. Tonight. Now. Hearing Nick mention Sylvia’s name, I felt a sudden urge. My parents taught me to be brave in expressing love. Shouldn’t I be just as brave when the love was gone? “Nick.” My voice was steady in the darkness. “Maybe we should—” He cut me off with a sharp click of his tongue. “Alright, I don’t want to explain anything more about Sylvia.” He rolled over, his voice laced with impatience and restraint. “It’s Mom’s birthday this weekend. Pull yourself together. Don’t show up looking like this and make her worry.” I gazed at the pale moonlight outside the window. A soft, silvery light, just like Sylvia’s name. I let out a long, quiet sigh. 4 I own a small art gallery. It was a twentieth birthday gift from my mother. When a girl is unhappy, she’d said, she needs a place she loves to go to. In the last two years, I’ve been spending more and more time there. On the day of my mother-in-law’s birthday, I was a few minutes late to the restaurant because I was overseeing the delivery of a new collection of paintings. The moment I walked into the private room, I saw Sylvia. She was holding my mother-in-law’s arm affectionately, chattering away in their hometown dialect. They were both laughing heartily. Nick was sitting on a nearby sofa, legs crossed, smiling as he sipped his tea. When he saw me, his brow furrowed slightly. “Anna, I told you to be here early. What could possibly be more important today?” I handed the gift to my mother-in-law and offered a brief explanation. She didn’t take it, just glanced at me from under her heavy eyelids. “Her own mother-in-law isn’t as important as some outsider. I guess she looks down on me for being from the countryside.” I didn’t respond. I simply placed the gift in front of her and found a seat. This was how she always talked. For a long time after we got married, her passive-aggressive comments used to hurt me so much I’d cried to Nick about them several times. I didn’t understand it. Even if we weren’t family, she owed her life to the money I’d given her. Why was she so hostile? Nick’s response was always the same. “My mom had a hard life. For my sake, just try to be more understanding.” But a few months ago, I’d suddenly stopped caring about her attitude. Her barbs and glares bounced right off me. It was like watching a stranger, an old woman talking about someone else’s family. Sylvia smiled. “Anna, your mother-in-law insisted I come and join the fun today. I hope you don’t mind.” I looked at her and smiled back. “Not at all. The more the merrier.” “And please don’t be upset about all the times I’ve had to bother your husband lately,” Sylvia added. “I’d hate for my problems to affect your marriage.” “Don’t be silly. You’re from the same hometown, you were classmates. It’s the least he can do,” I said, popping a Shine Muscat grape into my mouth. I was parched from unloading the paintings. “Oh, and I should let you know, I couldn’t get a cab earlier, so I had Nick pick me up. I told him we should swing by and get you too, but he said it was too far out of the way. He’s still the same old Nick, so careless about things like that!” Sylvia said, beaming. I ate another grape. “I have my own car, it’s more convenient. If you ever need him in the future, just call him. You don’t have to tell me.” A flicker of surprise crossed Sylvia’s face. She paused, then gave a hesitant laugh. “Oh, I couldn’t do that.” “It’s really not a big deal.” As I finished speaking, I turned and saw Nick staring at me, his gaze deep and tinged with displeasure. I had no idea what I’d said wrong this time. But the confusion lasted only a second before I dismissed it. Throughout the meal, the three of them conversed entirely in their dialect. I kept my head down, silently scrolling through my phone. Suddenly, a glass of green juice appeared beside my hand. Nick’s voice was gentle. “I saw you enjoying the grapes, so I had the waiter juice some for you.” I was taken aback. “You juiced Shine Muscats? But I like eating them whole.” I looked up and saw Sylvia staring at the glass in front of me, her eyes gleaming. “Do you like this?” I asked her, pushing the glass in her direction. “You can have it.” Nick abruptly stood up, his voice cold. “I’m going to the restroom.” Later, I stepped outside to take a call from an employee. As I returned to the room, I heard my mother-in-law’s voice, loud and shrill in her dialect. “Four years and she can’t even produce a child. What’s the use of keeping her?” I froze, my hand on the door. Yes, I could understand their dialect. When we first got married, I did many things for Nick. To improve my relationship with his mother, I had secretly learned their language. Nick’s voice was firm. “Mom, I’ve told you before, don’t say things like that. Anna loves me very much, and she’s relied on me even more since her mother passed away. She wouldn’t be able to handle hearing you talk like that.” His mother sighed. “If it wasn’t for my illness holding you back, you wouldn’t have had to sacrifice your own happiness to be with her, and Sylvia wouldn’t have married that scumbag. But it’s not too late. Things are different now. Back then, her family had money. Now, you’re the one supporting her. Just give her a generous settlement in the divorce!” Sylvia’s voice was soft. “Auntie, you shouldn’t say things like that.” My eyes widened. If Nick agrees… A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. The room was quiet for a moment. Then, Nick’s voice, cold and resolute, rang out. “I can’t betray Anna! We’re husband and wife. Mom, she helped you once. Don’t ever say anything like this again!” My feelings were a tangled mess. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. 5 The final, explosive fight between Nick and me was, predictably, about Sylvia. And her dog. I came home one day to find Sylvia sitting on my sofa, the golden retriever from her social media posts lying at her feet. She smiled and explained, “Nick forgot a legal document at home, so I came back with him to get it.” My gaze fell on the crochet toy the dog was viciously tearing apart. It was a knitted rabbit my mother had made for me on her deathbed, forcing her weak hands to work. “I’ve given you many things, but they were all bought with money. Before I go, I want to make something for you with my own hands. Every stitch is my love for you. When you see this little rabbit, it will be like seeing me.” After she died, I placed the rabbit on the TV stand in the living room so I could see it every day. I barely dared to touch it, afraid of getting it dirty or frayed. Now, that rabbit was in the dog’s mouth, being kicked and shredded. The yarn was broken, the cotton stuffing spilling out like snow. A roar filled my ears. I couldn’t speak. I moved stiffly, trying to pry the dog’s jaws open. My mind was blank, filled only with the sound of Sylvia’s shocked cries, the dog’s frantic barking, and Nick’s sharp yell as he rushed out of the study. “Anna, are you crazy! It’s just a cheap toy, what does it matter!” Trembling, I held the tattered remains of the rabbit up to his face and shrieked, “A cheap toy? This is what you see? A cheap toy!?” He seemed to suddenly remember where the rabbit came from. A rare look of panic crossed his face, and he reached for me, flustered. “I’m sorry, Anna! It’s okay, we can fix it, I promise I’ll get it fixed for you!” I gritted my teeth and slapped him across the face. “Get out!” I screamed. “Both of you, get out!” His head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. Five red finger marks quickly bloomed on his pale skin, stark and shocking. He stared at me, frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Nick, are you okay?!” Sylvia rushed over, her hands hovering nervously over his face. She turned to me, her voice a furious hiss. “I’ll pay you back! I’ll buy you a hundred, a thousand of them, alright? My dog ruined your toy, why are you hitting him?! Do you have any idea how hard he works every day? Are you even his wife?!” I felt as if I were trapped under a glass dome. The sounds of the outside world grew distant and muffled. The scene before me fractured into a series of still frames. The dismembered rabbit. Sylvia’s red lips opening and closing. Nick’s incredulous eyes. My vision went black, and I fell backward. “Anna!”

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Chapter 1 I never thought my ex-flame would use a company meeting to destroy me. But there it was. On my laptop screen, projected for the entire boardroom to see. A video of him and his current girlfriend, going at it. The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room, amplifying the sudden, suffocating silence. Waves of shock and disdain crashed over me from my colleagues. Panic and shame clawed at my throat as I scrambled to slam the laptop shut. I turned, trembling, only to see Julian Thorne smirking, a cruel twist to his lips. “Can’t handle it?” he sneered. In that moment, I knew. He did this on purpose. He’d swapped my presentation. He wanted me humiliated. He wanted me to watch him making love to another woman until it broke me. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I remembered when we were in love. We were so close, just waiting for that final barrier to fall. Then, my so-called best friend set me up. I was framed for climbing into his bed, then accused of digging for the Thorne family fortune and stealing trade secrets. Because of that scandal, the Thorne dynasty nearly collapsed. Julian’s parents, driving frantically to deal with debt collectors, lost control of their car on a cliffside road. No survivors. Everyone blamed me. I became the villain of the century. Then came the diagnosis: Leukemia. Not wanting to drag Julian down with a dying woman, I left. That’s when I found out I was pregnant. Twins. One was born weak and sickly; the other was taken from me, missing without a trace. When I returned, desperate for money to save the only child I had left, I swallowed my pride. I agreed to be Julian’s assistant. I knew he only kept me around to torture me. I bit my lip, refusing to look at him. But my silence only seemed to infuriate him. He let out a cold laugh, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the mahogany table. “Take it off.” Two words. The room cleared instantly, colleagues fleeing the tension. I looked at him in disbelief. “Take off what?” “Vanessa’s dress got ruined. She’s in my lounge right now, and she doesn’t want to see your face. So, take yours off and give it to her.” Julian’s voice was ice. My chest tightened, a suffocating pressure building behind my ribs. I swallowed the rising bile of grievance. “Julian,” I whispered. “If I strip in the conference room, how am I supposed to walk out of here?” “Walk out naked. Or were you hoping someone would carry you?” He leaned back, eyes dark. “Think about your situation, Elara. If you want the money, be a good girl.” The threat hung in the air. I unclenched my fists. My baby was in the ICU. I couldn’t watch my child die. Slowly, I reached for the zipper. The office lights glared off the glass walls. Outside, people were watching, waiting to see my shame. Finally, I tossed my dress onto the table. Julian watched, savoring my humiliation. “Does it hurt, Elara? You deserve it. Compared to what you did to me, this is nothing.” His malice was undisguised. Tears stung my eyes, but I forced them back. What did I do wrong back then? I was framed. No one believed me. I was innocent, yet I was the sinner in everyone’s eyes. I thought I had moved on, but the tears wouldn’t listen. Julian grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Crying? Already? Save your tears. You’re going to need them for what comes next.” He wiped a tear from my cheek with a rough thumb, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I’m in a good mood. Company retreat tonight. Everyone attends. Especially you.” He let go, and the stinging in my bones—the leukemia—flared up, nearly buckling my knees. I sank to the floor, hugging myself, shivering. Even after he left, the phantom sounds of that video echoed in my ears. Hours later, after everyone had gone, a coworker quietly handed me a spare coat. “What did you do to offend the boss? He’s going to eat you alive at dinner.” It was the only kindness I’d felt in months. I shook my head, unable to speak. The history between Julian and me was too heavy for words. I knew he had more humiliation planned for the retreat, but I had no choice. When I pushed open the door to the private room at the restaurant, I saw her immediately. Vanessa, nestled in Julian’s arms. She was wearing a red slip dress—definitely not the one I had taken off. She smiled at me. “Julian said your dress was too shabby for me. You aren’t mad, are you, Elara?” I looked at her gloating face, pressed my lips together, and lowered my eyes. “Does she dare be mad?” Julian scoffed, addressing the room. He slid three full glasses of liquor across the table toward me. “Late arrivals are penalized three drinks. You know the rules.” My doctor had been explicitly clear: No alcohol. Not with the leukemia. “I can’t drink,” I said, my voice trembling. Julian’s face went cold. “Can’t drink? How about this?” He pulled a check from his pocket and slapped it onto the table. “Fifty thousand dollars. Finish the bottles on the table, and it’s yours. Is that enough?” He sneered. “For a woman like you, who’d do anything for cash, this should be easy.” My heart shattered. I stared at the check. I thought of the ICU bills. I closed my eyes, grabbed the first bottle, and started chugging. One bottle. Two. The pain in my stomach blurred as the alcohol hit my blood. The room went silent as they watched their CEO’s face grow darker with every swallow I took. He hated me, didn’t he? He should be happy I was debasing myself. Why did he look so angry? I slammed the last empty bottle down, snatched the check, and shoved it into my pocket. “I’ll take the check—” Before I could finish, the burning in my stomach sent me running. I barely made it to the restroom before throwing up everything, blood mixing with bile. I was rinsing my face with freezing water, shivering, when I heard a sharp voice behind me. “I overestimated you. I thought you really didn’t care.” Vanessa walked into the frame of the mirror, applying lipstick. “You left, broke his heart, and now you crawl back to seduce him? Have you no shame?” I looked up, panic setting in. Vanessa capped her lipstick aggressively. “Keep your mouth shut. After Julian and I get married next month, I’ll tell you where your other kid is. Until then, stay out of sight.” Chapter 2 “My child?” My eyes lit up. When I first returned, Vanessa hinted she knew what happened to my missing twin. I had to believe her. I’d been searching for years while trying to keep my sick child alive. I stepped closer, desperate. “Where? Tell me!” But as I moved, I saw the hickeys on her neck. My breath hitched. Then, a sharp cramp in my stomach doubled me over. Vanessa watched coldly. “I’m actually worried you won’t live long enough to find out. Try not to die, Elara.” She clicked away in her high heels. Sweat drenched my back. I gripped the sink, forcing myself to stand. I had to live. For the kids. I dragged myself to the hospital. Dr. Liam Pierce looked at my test results and went silent. “Your condition is critical, and you’re drinking? Do you want to die? Your stomach is bleeding. You need to be admitted. Now.” My lips were pale. “Liam, I need the money. Just give me the meds, like usual.” He sighed, frustrated, but wrote the prescription. I visited my baby in the ward, then checked my bank account. Less than a hundred dollars. I clutched the fifty-thousand-dollar check, grateful I had sold my dignity for it. On the waiting room TV, news of the Julian-Vanessa engagement was breaking. They looked perfect together. My eyes burned. I went home to take my meds. I woke up at 3:00 AM to a dozen missed calls from Julian. Thinking maybe he felt guilty, I called back. “What kind of garbage was that proposal you submitted?” His voice was freezing. “Redo it. I want a satisfactory draft by morning, or don’t bother coming in.” I checked my laptop. I had sent that draft three days ago. He hadn’t even opened it. In the background of the call, I heard a woman’s moan. “Julian… please… I can’t take anymore…” “You started this fire,” Julian growled. “Already tired?” I hung up, tears streaming down my face. I spent the rest of the night rewriting the proposal to save my child. The next morning, I handed him the new draft. He didn’t even read it. He threw the file in my face. “I told you to redo it, not give me this trash.” He walked to the shredder and fed my night’s work into it, staring at me the whole time. I stumbled back, falling, hitting my bruised knees. My leukemia caused my bones to ache constantly, but my heart hurt worse. I looked up at his hate-filled eyes. “Okay. I’ll write it again.” I went back to my desk. Halfway through, a stack of contracts landed on my head. “Why didn’t you go to the meeting with Mr. Carter yesterday?” Julian demanded. “Remember your place, Elara. If you want money, do your job.” Yesterday? When he made me strip? How could I meet a client like that? “Yesterday, I—” “Excuses?” He cut me off. “If we lose this contract, the loss comes out of your pocket.” I nearly fainted. The contract was worth millions. I couldn’t pay that. He was driving me to a dead end. I rushed to Carter Corp to apologize. The receptionist kicked me out. “No appointment, no entry.” I waited outside for three hours in the scorching sun, then a sudden downpour soaked me to the bone. From the building across the street, I saw a silhouette in the window. Julian, swirling a glass of wine, smiling as I stood in the rain. How does it feel, Elara? his eyes seemed to say. I wiped rain from my face. I didn’t kill his parents. He never believed me. Then Vanessa appeared beside him. They toasted, laughed, and kissed passionately against the glass. My heart went numb. The rain beat down, reminding me of the past. Once, in a storm, a pervert followed me. Julian had appeared, soaked half his body to keep me dry under his umbrella. “I’ll protect you forever, Elara,” he had said. Now, he was the storm. I laughed until I cried, unable to tell rain from tears. Finally, Carter’s car pulled out. The window rolled down. It was Julian driving. Vanessa was in the passenger seat. “Mr. Carter,” I begged, rushing to the car. “Just ten minutes, please!” Julian laughed. “You beg with no sincerity, Elara. Look at you. Disgusting.” He floored the gas. The car grazed my knee, knocking me into a puddle. Vanessa mouthed Loser and gave me the finger as they sped away. I sat in the mud, powerless. But I thought of the hospital bills. I forced myself up, limping to hail a taxi. “Follow that Maybach.” Chapter 3 I followed them to a shooting range. I ran up to Carter’s group, holding the soggy proposal. But Vanessa grabbed Julian’s arm, smiling wickedly. “Julian, I have a great idea for a game. But we need Elara’s help.” My stomach churned. “If Elara agrees to be our target,” Vanessa purred to Carter, “you should give her a chance to pitch. Deal?” Julian paused, then tapped Vanessa’s nose affectionately. “You always have such fun ideas.” He turned to me, his face hardening. “Unlike some money-hungry women who are just boring and vulgar.” I stood there, swaying. I wanted to scream that I did this for our son. But I couldn’t. “Fine,” I croaked. I put on the protective gear and stood by the targets. Before I was ready, Vanessa fired. The bullet grazed my left ear. Blood trickled down. It burned, but I felt numb. “You’re terrible at this, Elara! You’re supposed to dodge!” Vanessa laughed. “Good aim,” Julian clapped. My heart bled. He was cheering for the woman shooting at me. Bang. Another shot hit my stomach. The impact knocked the wind out of me. I fell, gasping. “Julian! Did you see? Bullseye!” Vanessa squealed, hugging him. “You’re amazing, babe,” Julian said. Then he pointed at me. “Get up. Let her shoot again. Or the deal is off.” I looked at him, remembering the eighteen-year-old boy who used to hold the gun for me so the recoil wouldn’t hurt my shoulder. That boy was dead. I forced myself up. Vanessa fired again. A hit to the chest. I collapsed, hitting my head on the back wall. The world spun. “Is she dead?” Vanessa scoffed. “Julian, surely she’s faking it.” “She’s nothing,” Julian said. “Get up, Elara. Stop being dramatic.” I watched him pick up a gun. He aimed. I froze. The bullet whizzed past my nose, grazing the tip. Blood gushed out. Tears blurred my vision. Those eyes… they used to look at me with so much love. Now, only hate. “You said… if I did this… I’d get a chance,” I gasped. Julian frowned, tossing the gun aside. “I was joking. You didn’t actually believe me, did you?” My world tilted. Joking? With my life? “You’re despicable, Julian!” I screamed. “Despicable? I’m not even half as bad as you were,” he retorted, turning to leave with Vanessa. I panicked and grabbed Carter’s sleeve. He shoved me away. “Don’t touch me. I didn’t promise anything. Ask the lady.” I realized this was all Vanessa’s game. But before I could beg her, Carter grabbed my arm. “Actually, I changed my mind. Julian’s ex is dirtying my suit. Lick it clean, and I’ll listen to your pitch. Right here, in front of Julian.” Carter sat down, spreading his legs, pointing to a spot on his shoe—or perhaps higher. It was pure humiliation. My nails dug into my palms. “Hurry up!” Carter barked. He grabbed my hair and forced my head down. Terrified, I reached out and grabbed Julian’s pant leg. “Julian, please…” He paused. Then he kicked my hand away. “What does this have to do with me? Who do you think you are to ask for my help?” He lit a cigarette, pulling Vanessa close. “Open your eyes. I have a girlfriend. Flirting with me in front of her? Do you think I won’t hurt you?” My heart froze. I couldn’t defend myself. “Elara is so stupid,” Vanessa giggled. “Did you really think anyone would dare bully you without Julian’s permission?” Her words struck me like lightning. I closed my eyes, accepting the despair. Carter pushed my head down harder. “Enough chatting. Show some sincerity.” Chapter 4 Carter wasn’t really going to let me pitch. He just wanted to break me. As he forced my head down, I panicked. I grabbed a heavy ashtray from the table and smashed it against his head. Slap. Carter backhanded me so hard my vision went black. I heard the sound of a second blow coming, but it never landed. Julian had stopped his hand. For a second, I saw concern in Julian’s eyes. But then he smiled, a cruel, twisted thing. He pulled out his phone. “911? I’d like to report an assault.” My hope died. “Did you think I was saving you?” he whispered, leaning down. “Use your brain. I’m calling the cops on you.” I collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. “Why are you doing this to me?” “You owe me this,” he hissed. “Go to jail and think about what you did.” Vanessa stepped on my hand with her stiletto heel as they left. “Enjoy the cell, Elara.” Seven days in detention. The inmates knew who put me there. They tortured me. Maggots in my food. Ice water at midnight. Beating me in the bathrooms. “Who do you think you are?” the leader of the cell block shouted, slamming my head into the wall. “Trying to seduce Mr. Thorne? With Miss Vanessa in the picture? You’re trash.” I lay on the cold floor, hallucinating the old Julian. The one who brought me water after gym class. The one who ignored everyone else just to sit by me. When I was released, I dragged my broken body home. The door was smashed open. Men were tearing my apartment apart. “Pay up!” one shouted. “You owe us on the loan!” “I never took a loan!” I cried. “Get out!” Vanessa walked in, clapping. “Still feisty?” Julian followed her. “I took the loan out in your name. To cover the losses from the Carter deal. You messed up, you pay.” My blood ran cold. He was systematically destroying me. My bank accounts were frozen. How would I pay for the hospital? “Julian, please,” I begged, grabbing his sleeve. “What do I have to do for you to let me go?” He shook me off. “Let you go? Did you let my parents go? I want you to suffer for the rest of your life.” I fell to the floor. When his family went bankrupt, I watched him work night shifts, living in a basement. I left him because I was dying and pregnant, not because I didn’t love him. I tried to save him from my burden. “Search the place!” Julian ordered the thugs. “Take anything valuable.” They smashed my furniture. I tried to stop them, but they shoved me into a bookshelf. Books rained down on me. Vanessa picked up a brown leather notebook. “Ooh, what’s this?”

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The man I had secretly loved for ten years finally confessed his feelings to me. But this time, I rejected him without a moment’s hesitation. In my past life, I had said yes, ecstatic beyond belief. I didn’t know then that my “dream guy,” Professor Adrian Thorne, only confessed to me to spite his adopted sister, Lily, during a petty argument. Three days after I agreed to be his girlfriend, Lily showed up with teary eyes, acting apologetic and spoiled. Adrian’s heart melted instantly. To comfort her, he abandoned me in a pitch-black alleyway during a thunderstorm. He left me there for three agonizing hours. I was cornered by a drunk who tore my clothes while I screamed for help that never came. When I finally limped back, shivering and traumatized, asking Adrian why he left me, he simply looked at me coldly and said three words: “Let’s break up.” Later, when Lily discovered I was still lingering in the city, she “accidentally” rammed her car into me, leaving me permanently disabled. I sued her. I dragged her to court. But Adrian, the man I once loved, threatened me in the hallway of the courthouse. “Drop the lawsuit, Harper. Or the next thing you see will be your mother’s corpse.” I didn’t believe he would actually protect a criminal to the point of murder. I didn’t believe he would kill my mom. I was wrong. When I found my mother lying in a pool of blood at our doorstep, her body already cold, I realized the truth: this man was a demon. This time, I’m done. I won’t be a pawn in their twisted game. Facing his confession now, everyone looked shocked. Even Adrian stared at me in disbelief. But I just walked right past him, straight toward the guy standing behind him. “Hey, handsome,” I said, my voice steady. “Considering a girlfriend?” Chapter 1 In less than an hour, the news had spread across the entire university campus like wildfire. It was no secret that I, Harper Vance, had been obsessed with Adrian Thorne for years. But now, I had seemingly had a change of heart. I had set my sights on the campus bad boy, Jax Cole. Realizing I was talking to him, Jax paused, stunned. Then, a slow smirk spread across his face as he capped his water bottle with one hand. “You serious?” In front of everyone, he stepped forward, cornering me against the wall. “If you want to be my girl, there’s no room in your heart for anyone else.” He shot a pointed look over my shoulder at Adrian. Not just him—everyone knew I was practically famous for being Adrian’s doormat. I nodded, looking him in the eye. “I’m serious. From now on, I only like you.” I paused, then added, “Starting right now.” A flash of surprise hit Jax’s eyes, quickly replaced by a complex, playful look. “Alright then. I’ll trust you this once.” He pulled a vintage wooden beaded bracelet off his wrist and slid it onto mine. “Family heirloom. You wear this, you’re mine. No take-backs.” Jax’s entourage looked like their jaws were about to hit the floor. “Jax, dude, since when are you so easy?” “That’s Harper Vance. Don’t you usually roll your eyes when you see her? How did you just…” Jax shot them a glare. “Cut the crap. Go get me a ring and some flowers. Now.” His tone was lighter than I’d ever heard it. I knew why he used to give me the stink eye. He hated seeing me chase after Adrian like a desperate puppy. He had always had a crush on me. This time, I was going to give him—and myself—a real chance. As I turned to leave with Jax, a voice called out from behind. “Harper!” Adrian finally snapped out of his shock, frowning deeply. “Harper Vance, are you sleepwalking?” he demanded. “You rejected me? Why did you send me love letters every day? Why did you bring me breakfast every morning?” Adrian looked genuinely confused. He thought bagging me would be easy. He never expected I wouldn’t even deign to look at him. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Professor Thorne, which of those breakfasts didn’t end up in your trash can?” “Nobody waits in the same spot forever. Besides…” I sharpened my gaze. “I was confused before. There are boundaries between students and professors. We should keep them.” I turned to walk away, but Adrian’s frown deepened. He was a young entrepreneur, serving as a guest lecturer because of his friendship with the Dean. I hadn’t gone five steps before he grabbed my arm. “Harper.” “You said you loved me.” He was such a weirdo. Before, when I chased him relentlessly, he couldn’t be bothered to look at me. Now that I was ignoring him, he was obsessed. “I see your worth now,” he said urgently. “Just say yes, and you’re my girlfriend. Right now.” I tilted my head, looking at him with mock surprise. “Wow. You make it sound like you’re the Emperor choosing a concubine.” “Why do I have to say yes just because you confessed?” “Who I like is my freedom. And honestly, why would I like you? You’re so much older than me.” A sneer curled on my lips. “I prefer guys my own age.” His face drained of color. His grip loosened. I seized the chance and walked away fast. When I was finally out of his sight, my heart was still pounding against my ribs. I lied. I wasn’t just rejecting him because of age. Since being reborn, I physically couldn’t handle being near him. Seeing his face just brought back the image of my mother in that pool of blood. Her eyes wide open, staring at nothing. Her dying words echoing in my mind: “My sweet girl, stay away from that man… run…” So this time, I’m listening to Mom. Chapter 2 I thought making things clear that day would stop Adrian. After all, his confession was impulsive. He only did it to make Lily jealous. In my past life, I was too stupid to see the game. I was just the rebound. This time, I was determined to stay far away. But unexpectedly, Adrian stuck to me like gum on a shoe. “Harper, look. Professor Thorne keeps staring at you,” my classmate nudged me during a lecture. “That video of him confessing to you went viral on the campus network. You’re famous now.” “Look at those soulful eyes. Maybe your years of being a simp actually worked? Maybe you moved him?” I followed her gaze. Adrian caught my eye instantly. I looked away in less than a second. It was a headache. I had signed up for all his classes back when I was chasing him. Now, for the sake of my GPA, I had to sit through them. My classmate kept gossiping, so I sighed. “Just listen to the lecture.” “Stop spreading rumors with the others. Professor Thorne and I have nothing to do with each other.” I tuned out the class, focusing entirely on my dinner plans—Hot Pot with Jax. When class ended, a torrential downpour had started outside. Of course, I didn’t have an umbrella. Students trickled out of the building, leaving me standing under the eaves like a sitting duck. Suddenly, a black umbrella shielded me from above. “Take this,” Adrian’s deep, magnetic voice sounded right by my ear. In the past, hearing him speak to me would have kept me awake all night with excitement. Now, I just wanted to run. “No thanks. My boyfriend is picking me up.” I pulled out my phone to text Jax. The screen lit up. Adrian’s face went dark. “Your wallpaper. When did you change it?” I looked at my phone innocently. “This? Oh, I changed it the day we started dating.” “I have a boyfriend now. It’s inappropriate to have another man on my screen.” Adrian’s expression turned stormy. For five years, my wallpaper had been a candid shot of Adrian’s back. He knew about it. But the moment I was reborn, I deleted it. I couldn’t find a stock photo I liked, so I used a selfie Jax had sent me. Honestly, it was growing on me. “Harper…” Adrian started, his voice low. “Harper!” Jax’s voice cut through the rain. A sleek car pulled up. Jax stepped out, saw the umbrella in Adrian’s hand, and smirked. He opened his own umbrella, walked over, and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Professor Thorne, thanks for the offer, but it’s not needed. I pick up my own girlfriend.” I got into Jax’s car. As we drove away, I looked back. Adrian was standing there like a statue in the rain, staring after us. If I didn’t know the monster hiding underneath, I might have been fooled by the depth of emotion in his eyes. “Stop looking. Your Professor is gone,” Jax said, glancing at me with a hint of sarcasm. I punched his arm lightly. “What do you mean ‘mine’? I have nothing to do with him.” Jax laughed, surrendering. “Okay, okay, my bad.” We arrived at the Hot Pot place. He held my hand the whole time, his gaze terrifyingly gentle. “Harper, I swear I feel like I’m dreaming. I wake up and you’re actually my girlfriend.” I slapped his arm again. “Stop being weird. Let’s eat, I’m starving.” After dinner, we went to a movie. I was so tired I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was lying on Jax’s lap. He had held the same pose all night, terrified to wake me. “Is your leg numb?” I asked. Jax tried to look cool. “Nah, impossible.” But as we walked out, I saw him grimacing in the reflection of a glass window, trying to shake the feeling back into his leg. I smiled to myself. Maybe loving someone else was the right choice after all. Chapter 3 I wanted to go home and see my mom. In my last life, she was the person I failed the most. Just because I fell in love, she ended up dead. I wanted justice for my disability, but she became the hostage Adrian used against me. “Drop the lawsuit, or you’ll see your mother’s corpse.” That sentence still haunted my nightmares. After school, I was waiting for a cab at the gate when a bright pink Porsche swerved and accelerated straight toward me. My legs turned to jelly. The memories of the crash flooded back. It was Lily’s car! Panic seized me. I can’t get hit. I scrambled to the side, rolling on the pavement. The Porsche slammed into a stone pillar, the hood crunching on impact. The door opened. Lily stepped out in a frilly princess dress. She didn’t care about her wrecked car. She only had eyes full of hate for me. “You slut! You think you can seduce my brother? Look at yourself!” “You’re ugly and manipulative. I see right through you.” This woman was seriously mentally ill. She tries to run me over and then insults me? She was so spoiled by Adrian she thought she was above the law. If she didn’t go to prison this time, there was no justice in the world. I looked at her, baffled. “Lady, do I know you? Why are you trying to kill me?” “This is a civilized society. If you mess with me again, I’m calling the cops.” Lily crossed her arms, looking down her nose at me. “Don’t you know who my brother is? Even if I killed you today, nothing would happen to me.” “Is that so?” I sneered and dialed 911. “Police? I’m at the University gate. Someone just attempted to murder me with a vehicle.” Lily thought I was a pushover. She didn’t know I was a ghost who had crawled back from hell. In my past life, when Adrian protected her after she killed my mom, I took a knife and stabbed them both before turning myself in. I believe in revenge. Soon, Adrian and the police arrived together. “What happened?” Lily immediately put on her act, clinging to his arm, sobbing. “Adrian, this woman bullied me! I was just driving, and she threw herself at my car! She wrecked my Porsche!” I almost laughed. She lied as easily as breathing. The officer asked me for a statement. I simply pointed to the surveillance camera on the street light. “Just watch the tape. It’ll clear everything up.” Adrian nodded, moving to check the footage, but Lily grabbed him. “Brother, don’t you believe me?” Adrian gently peeled her hand off his arm. “At home, I can tolerate your tantrums. But outside, you follow the law.” “If you’re innocent, I’ll help you. If you did this, I won’t protect you.” Panic flashed across Lily’s face. The footage was clear. She deliberately swerved to hit me. Lily was taken to the station for questioning. As they put her in the squad car, she glared back at me. “Harper Vance, just you wait!” I brushed the dust off my hands. Wait? I’ve been to hell and back. I’m not scared of a brat. When I got home, I cooked dinner for my mom. Seeing her alive, eating the food I made, felt better than anything in the world. After dinner, I walked Jax out. But in the stairwell, someone pinned me against the wall. “Harper…” Adrian. He was drunk. “Harper… don’t leave me.” Chapter 4 I was baffled. Adrian didn’t like me. He loved Lily. Why was he acting like the deep, soulful romantic now? I pushed him away. “Adrian, you’re drunk. Let go.” Luckily, Jax hadn’t gone far. I called him back, and together we shoved Adrian into a cab. On the way back up, Jax looked serious. “Adrian likes you.” “Don’t be stupid,” I scoffed. “He just lost his designated admirer and feels uncomfortable. He misses the ego boost.” Jax shook his head. “Men know men. I know that look.” I still thought he was crazy. No man destroys the woman he loves and her entire family. If that’s love, I’d rather be hated. I tried to avoid Adrian after that. But his sister, Lily, kept finding ways to torture me. She’d “accidentally” spill red wine on me at the cafeteria. She’d swap my assignments so I’d get failed. She even transferred to our school. On her first day, she gathered a clique of mean girls and blocked my path. “Harper Vance, know your place. Mess with the Princess, and you’ll regret it.” But they never got the chance to really hurt me. My “Guardian Angel” was always there. Jax was sharp. He noticed their tricks and pulled strings behind the scenes. After a few silent warnings from the Cole family, they didn’t dare touch me. Lily tried everything. She framed me for theft to get me expelled. But Jax was the heir to the Cole Empire. One phone call to the Dean, and the problem vanished. Frustrated, Lily changed tactics. She tried to convince Adrian to leave. “Brother, you don’t need the money. Why teach here?” “Let’s go home. You said you’d give me half the company. Teach me how to run it instead.” Adrian didn’t even look up from his papers. “I’ll tell my assistant to train you.” Her beauty trap failed. So, Lily went nuclear. She decided to drug Adrian and frame me for it, intending to expose a “scandalous teacher-student affair” via livestream to ruin my reputation forever. Her assistant looked worried. “Miss Thorne, are you sure? If Adrian finds out you drugged him to get rid of Harper, he’ll be furious…” “Shut up,” Lily snapped. “I know my brother. He’s just temporarily blinded by that bitch.” “I don’t believe that after seeing us shamed on a livestream, he’ll still look at her with anything but disgust!” Lily set the trap. She dosed Adrian’s juice. She planned for her bodyguards to drag me into the hotel room. “Is the trap set?” “Yes, Miss Thorne.” Lily smiled, adjusting the hidden camera. “Harper Vance, after tonight, you’ll be the internet’s favorite punching bag. And my brother will hate your guts.” She handed the camera controls to her assistant. “Ten minutes. Start the stream and burst in. We’re putting on a show.” The assistant nodded, waiting outside. He checked his watch. Three… two… one… Time’s up. The assistant took a deep breath, kicked the door open with the camera rolling, ready to recite his script. But when he saw the bed, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “Miss… Miss Thorne? Why are YOU in the bed?”

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