I tried to hit on a beautiful woman, and she had me arrested. At the station, the cop asked me, “What exactly did you do to her?” I answered honestly. “I asked for her number. She ignored me. I gave my butt a pat and walked away.” The words were barely out of my mouth when the beautiful woman, who had been silent until now, leaped to her feet and pointed a finger at me. “You son of a bitch, you patted my ass!” she shrieked. “Officer! He slapped my ass! And he squeezed it! A few times! You have to help me!” 1 I was at a bar when I saw her in the booth across from me and fell instantly in love. My heart hammered against my ribs. I threw back two shots of whiskey for courage. Just as I stood up, ready to make my move, a voice echoed in my head. The brave step I’d just taken, I silently took back. My buddy, seeing me sit back down, was baffled. “What? You’re over her in five minutes?” I sighed. “Nah, man. I just remembered… I’m not divorced yet.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t get you. You’re too damn honest. You said you’d be faithful, and you actually are?” he scoffed. “For all you know, that woman’s got a whole secret family on the side. Besides, you’re divorcing her tomorrow. You’re just getting a number, not proposing. She’ll never know. It’s fine.” I hesitated. “Just go for it, dude,” he urged. “You look sharp tonight. Sharp enough to make a nun question her vows. Don’t let it go to waste.” He had a point. Convinced, I grabbed my phone and stumbled over to her table. Before my brain could catch up and stop me, I blurted out, “Hi, could I… could I get your number?” She stopped swirling the drink in her hand. For a long moment, there was silence. Then, she reached into her purse and pulled out two marriage certificates. She lifted her chin, her expression a strange mix of pride and detached coldness. “Married.” I was floored. Seriously? Who the hell comes to a singles’ night at a bar when they’re married? Who the hell carries their marriage certificates around with them? Who the hell uses their marriage certificates to ward off unwanted advances at a bar? Seeing my stunned silence, she must have thought I didn’t believe her. She opened one of the certificates, showing it to me under the dim bar lights. Her movements were dramatic, almost like she was showing off. “See? It’s got the official seal. 100% legit. We’ve been married for seven years.” Oh. Literally no one cares. I pursed my lips and turned to leave. 2 When I got back to our booth, my buddy was gone. There was no one to share my moment of utter humiliation with. I grabbed the rest of the liquor on the table and downed it, trying to numb the sting of rejection. But the more I drank, the fuzzier my head got. I touched my cheek. It was burning up. Crap. I was drunk. I have a tendency to run my mouth when I’m drunk, and to avoid another soul-crushingly embarrassing incident, my only thought was to get home. Fast. I called my buddy. No answer. I looked down at the sofa. Of course. His phone was in his jacket, and his jacket was right next to me. I waited a bit longer, but he didn’t come back. I had no choice but to go find him. I pushed myself up and staggered through the maze of tables, plunging into the crowd. The bar was dark, and my slight nearsightedness, amplified by the alcohol, made it impossible to recognize faces. I could only look for his clothes. After weaving through half the bar, I finally spotted his back on the terrace. White shirt, black pants. That was him. As I got closer, I saw he was facing away from me, a cigarette between his fingers, head slightly bowed. He looked completely absorbed, like he was trying to pull off some kind of brooding, handsome poet vibe. It was so not him. Trying to look all deep and mysterious without me, huh? I let out a low snort. A wicked idea sparked in my mind. My eyes traveled down his back, stopping when they reached his ass. I grinned. I strode forward, wound up, and with all my might, I brought my hand down flat on his perfectly round, firm-looking butt. SMACK! The sound was crisp and loud. He froze, his whole body tensing up from the shock, his ass muscles clenching tight. Mission accomplished. My hand was still pressed against him. The texture was soft and springy, with just a hint of startled rigidity. Well, I’d already slapped it. It felt so nice… one little squeeze couldn’t hurt, right? I couldn’t resist. I gave it a couple of squeezes. As I did, I looked up with a goofy grin. “Feel good?” “Are you sick?” My voice and a voice that was definitely not my buddy’s rang out at the same time. But even faster than the voice was the face that loomed into view—a beautiful, furious face. Her brows were knitted together, her eyes blazing with a rage she was barely containing. I knew that face. It was the woman who had just shut me down with her marriage certificate. Shit. Wrong person. I yanked my hand back and hid it behind me like a guilty child. She turned to face me fully, dropped her cigarette, and ground it out with her shoe. She didn’t say a word. She just took a long step toward me. I instinctively took two steps back. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered. “I… I thought you were someone else. I didn’t mean to… your, uh, your ass is just so… springy…” Her expression turned to ice. My drunk brain, now under the pressure of her murderous glare, was short-circuiting. I couldn’t form a single normal sentence. Her chest heaved with fury. She clutched her offended butt, the tips of her ears turning a deep, telltale red. “You again?” she seethed. “Didn’t I tell you I was married? Harassing a married woman… have you no shame? Do you not understand English? Or did you not get a good enough look at the certificate? You want to see it again?” She started digging in her purse for the certificates again. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, no, that’s okay! I wish you and your husband a long and happy life together. I’ll just be going…” “Wait,” she snapped, cutting me off. “You’re not going anywhere.” I looked up. Her expression was dead serious, but there was a flicker of desperation in her eyes, a tremor of panic in her voice. “My marriage certificates are gone.” 3 She frantically patted down her pockets and rummaged through her purse, her panic growing more visible by the second. Finding nothing, she grabbed my arm. “When you slapped me… did you steal them then? I swear they were in my purse when I grabbed my cigarettes! Give them back! They’re really important to me!” I panicked too. Because I honestly hadn’t taken them. I held up my empty hands. “No, miss, I swear, I didn’t take them!” I was wearing a jacket with shallow pockets; there was nowhere to hide them. She was clearly past the point of believing me. “You’ve been trouble since the moment you walked up to me. You don’t look like a good person. Hand them over now, before I call the police.” “I really don’t have them…” “I’m counting to three. And I really don’t want to get physical with you.” I was getting desperate. I wanted to suggest we check the security cameras, but the alcohol had other plans for my mouth. “I’d only be interested in stealing them if you had a Black Card tucked inside,” I slurred. “It’s not like you’re the only one with a marriage certificate.” I’m married too, you know! Who gives a damn about yours? A cold, humorless smile spread across her face. It was the smile of someone who had just been pushed too far. “How did you know there was a Black Card inside?” she asked, her voice dangerously soft. “So you did take it. And now you’re denying it. Fine. Fine.” She pulled out her phone and dialed 911. “That card was for my husband. I have to give it to him tomorrow. I can’t face him without it.” “Hey! You can’t just call the cops!” I lunged for her phone, but she sidestepped me. My momentum carried me forward, and I lost my footing, crashing to the ground. My face scraped against the rough concrete, and a sharp pain shot through my body. By the time the fog of drunkenness and pain cleared, I was in a police station. 4 In the mediation room, a police officer opened his notebook. “Mr. Evans,” he said, getting straight to the point. “What exactly did you do to her?” I’ve always been terrified of cops. My heart started pounding. I was in deep trouble. I quickly replayed the events in my head, reminding myself to keep my mouth shut about the stupid, embarrassing parts. I rubbed my throbbing head, trying to fight back the waves of nausea. “Well… I asked for her number. She ignored me. I gave my butt a pat and walked away.” Seemed accurate enough. I figured bringing up the whole mistaken-ass-slapping incident would be humiliating for me and inappropriate for a married woman like her, so I glossed over it. But the moment the words were out, the beautiful woman, who had been sitting silently beside me, shot to her feet. “You son of a bitch, that was my ass you patted!” she shrieked, pointing at me. “Officer! He patted my ass! And he squeezed it! A few times! You have to do something!” I just sat there, speechless. The officer gently pushed her pointing hand down. “Ms. Wright, please, calm down.” She shook him off, her voice getting louder. “I can’t calm down! I’m a married woman! My husband has never even touched my ass, and this guy gets to first? My chastity is ruined! And my marriage certificates are gone! They’re the most important things I own!” A small crowd of onlookers had gathered outside the door, whispering among themselves. “She’s this worked up over a marriage certificate? Must really love her husband.” “Loves her husband but goes to a bar? Sure.” “Didn’t she say a Black Card was missing too? Probably more worried about that.” “I don’t know, she keeps talking about the certificates.” “She must love him. Who else carries them around all the time?” “What would that guy want with her marriage certificate, anyway?” “Jealousy, probably. Wants to tear them up so he can make a move.” The buzzing voices were driving me crazy. I’d had enough. “It’s just a marriage certificate!” I snapped. “You lose it, you get a new one! What’s the big deal? You acting like you need it to get a divorce tomorrow or something?” The woman froze. She stared at me. “How did you know I’m getting a divorce tomorrow?” I froze. The onlookers froze.

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1 The year I turned thirty-two, my dad’s nagging about marriage became an all-out, indiscriminate assault. So I promptly broke up with my supermodel girlfriend of four years, packed my bags, and moved back to my hometown. My best friend was floored. “Are you insane? I thought you were obsessed with Sienna’s face. You can really just walk away?” I scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. A woman like her is a thrill to date, but to actually marry her? Do I look like I want to spend the rest of my life catching her cheating and then forgiving her?” The words had barely left my mouth when a voice, as cold as ice yet terrifyingly familiar, cut through the air behind me. “Lucas, is that really why you dumped me?” … Dragging my suitcase back to the apartment Sienna and I shared, I bumped right into a guy walking out. He was wearing a flimsy tank top with Sienna’s oversized shirt thrown carelessly over it. Barefoot, he was carrying a pair of limited-edition sneakers in one hand. I recognized him. Aaron. A print model Sienna had recently signed. Barely twenty, bursting with a raw, youthful energy. I instinctively took a step back, melting into the shadows of the elevator bay. A few seconds later, Sienna followed him out. She was wrapped in nothing but a bath towel, her hair still dripping, her skin flushed with a post-shower glow. Leaning against the doorframe, she lit a slender cigarette, her expression a perfect blend of languid and weary. After a moment, she casually tossed an unopened box for the latest iPhone at him. “Here.” Aaron’s eyes lit up. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Sienna with a joyous shout. “Oh my god! No way, the new one! Sienna, you’re the best!” “Picked it up on my way back from the Paris show.” “I fucking love you, baby!” Aaron leaned in to kiss her. But Sienna’s patience had worn thin. With a slight frown, she turned her head, dodging the kiss. “Alright, that’s enough. Get going.” The boy didn’t seem to mind. He pouted, a mix of flirtation and complaint in his voice. “So cruel. Use a guy and toss him aside. Just a minute ago in bed you were calling me your little wolf pup.” He clutched the new phone box gleefully, blowing Sienna a kiss as he left. “Gone! See you at the studio tomorrow.” Only after he was gone did I step out from the shadows. Sienna clearly hadn’t expected me back from my business trip so early. She froze for a second, but the surprise quickly melted back into her usual mask of indifference. “You’re back. Didn’t you say—” “Flight got changed,” I said, my eyes fixed on her. “It was late. I didn’t want to wake you.” The faint, reddish marks on her collarbone were fresh and damningly obvious, but she showed no hint of shame. She walked over, reaching for my luggage. “You must be exhausted. I’ll run you a bath.” As she bent over, the towel loosened, revealing more of her flushed skin. It was as if the scene I’d just witnessed had never happened. Seeing me stand motionless, she raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?” Then, a flicker of understanding crossed her face, and a slow, lazy smile played on her lips. “Miss me?” She moved closer, her scent a heady mix of her floral body wash and another man’s cologne. Her hand slid expertly under the hem of my shirt. “Then let’s take care of business first, and then we can—” Her fingertips, calloused from years of handling cameras and paintbrushes, traced a path across my skin, raising a familiar, tingling heat. I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I pushed her away. I have to admit, I was addicted to Sienna’s body. I’d pursued her after seeing her just once at an art exhibition, completely thunderstruck by her beauty. But now, whether it was the ten-hour flight or the lingering image of the boy who had just left, all I felt was a knot of disgust. I had zero interest. Sienna was rarely rejected by me. She stood there, stunned for a moment, before her expression darkened. “What’s with the attitude?” My gaze dropped to the floor, landing on a single man’s sock on the entryway rug. It wasn’t mine. Sienna saw it too. She clicked her tongue, her face tightening with annoyance. A dead silence fell over the living room. She pulled another cigarette from the pack and lit it, the smoke coiling around her like a shroud. “He’s just a model. Drank too much, had nowhere to go. I let him crash here for a night.” “We didn’t do anything.” 2 I stared at her, the white smoke a veil between us, obscuring both our faces. But we both knew how pathetic that excuse was. This wasn’t the first time. Sienna was born to be surrounded by admirers, a moth drawn to an endless series of flames. She was like this when I met her. My company was launching an art collaboration, and my friend took me to meet a rising avant-garde photographer. He warned me she was brilliant but had a terrible temper. I wasn’t a fan of artists; they always struck me as overly dramatic. And then Sienna walked in. She wore a simple white shirt, her slightly-too-long hair tied in a messy knot at the back of her head, a few stray strands falling across the bridge of her perfect nose. The moment she entered, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the conference room. Her face was a masterpiece sculpted by the gods. She lifted her gaze, and her almond-shaped eyes, the kind poets write about, swept over the room with a detached, almost careless coolness. I didn’t hear a single word she said that day. My mind was consumed with one thought: how to make her mine. After the meeting, a crowd swarmed her, trying to get her number. She turned them all down with an icy stare. Only I persisted, cornering her in the parking garage. After twenty-six years of being terminally single, it was the boldest move of my life. Maybe she was annoyed, maybe she found it novel, but whatever the reason, I became her boyfriend. And I had been, until now. But I knew that in our four years together, Sienna had never truly loved me. Or rather, she loved parts of me. She loved that I was independent, that I was “understanding,” that I could handle the PR disasters that constantly swirled around her. She loved that I never questioned the gossip, the late nights, the endless string of “friends.” Every time I caught her, she’d toss out a flimsy excuse, and I would forgive her. She once laughed at me, saying I was too clear-headed, not like a real man in love. She also joked that the day she met her true soulmate, she’d kick me to the curb without a second thought. Our relationship was held together by my tolerance alone. “You promised me you wouldn’t bring people back to the apartment anymore,” I said, my voice low, my eyes fixed on the sock. A flicker of mockery crossed her face. She was in no mood to placate me. “Since when did you get so hung up on details?” She leaned in, blowing a stream of smoke in my face, her eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. “Can’t handle it?” “If you can’t handle it, then get the hell out.” She’d said that countless times over the past four years. And every time, I was the one who backed down, who apologized, who held her and begged her not to be angry. Over time, she learned my weakness. She knew that as long as she held that threat over my head, I was powerless. I turned my head away. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Sienna’s hand shot out, her fingers clamping around my wrist like a vice. She had high, sharp cheekbones that gave her an intimidating intensity when she was serious. “Know when to quit, Lucas. Don’t push your luck.” I yanked my hand free and walked into the guest room. A few moments later, the front door slammed with enough force to shake the walls. Sienna was gone. She was angry. I knew it. After all, I was always the one to compromise, to soothe her ego. I’d never given her the cold shoulder like this before. I rolled over and opened my phone. In the family group chat, my dad had sent another photo of a woman. “Lucas, this is the one Aunt Katherine introduced. A university professor. You’re 32 this year, it’s time to get serious.” I switched to my work chat. My boss had tagged me. “@Lucas, HQ is setting up a new Brand Strategy department and they need a Director. I think your skills are a perfect fit. The resources and platform at headquarters are on a whole other level. Think about it.” My dad wanted me to come home for arranged dates. My company wanted to promote me and transfer me to headquarters, which just so happened to be in my hometown. The timing, the place, the people—it seemed I had no reason to stay in this city anymore. I sighed. To be honest, I really liked Sienna. She was beautiful, she had a killer body, and we were incredible in bed. Most importantly, she was a mess. Being with her was easy. I didn’t have to think about the future or take any real responsibility for her. I met her when I was buried in stress at work, just looking for a release. I’m picky about looks, a fatal flaw, but then I found Sienna. I had her during her prime years. She was the one who soothed me with her body through countless late nights while I was fighting for my KPIs. And while she had a revolving door of men, she was careful. All her flings had to provide regular health reports. I took precautions; I wasn’t afraid of catching anything. Finding another… partner… this compatible would be tough. But it couldn’t be helped. Dating is one thing, marriage is another. I liked Sienna a lot. But I also knew, with absolute clarity, that she was not the one. Now, the game was over. 3 Sienna didn’t come back that night. For the next few days, she completely vanished. My texts went unanswered. My calls went straight to voicemail. Then, a red exclamation mark appeared next to my messages. She’d blocked me. Her signature move: the cold shoulder. It had happened before. Sienna was a master of the silent treatment. Each time, I’d have to hunt her down at her art gallery or her favorite bars, groveling and begging until she’d unblock me. But this time, I was busy with my work handover. I didn’t have time to play her games. That evening, as I was booking my flight back to HQ, my phone rang. It was Sienna’s assistant. The background noise was deafening—thumping music and the riotous laughter of a crowd. “Mr. Hayes? Sienna’s had a bit too much to drink. She’s at a bar called Phantom. Could you possibly come and get her?” Sienna loved to party. Her family was loaded; art was just an expensive hobby. I once asked her why she didn’t join the family business. She’d scoffed, saying her mother’s illegitimate children were already tearing each other apart over the inheritance, and she couldn’t be bothered to join the fight. Besides, her grandmother’s and father’s shares would eventually be hers anyway. She just wanted to live her life exactly as she pleased. Sienna had zero career ambition. In that respect, we were polar opposites. Whenever I landed a big deal or got a promotion, I’d tell her, and she’d respond with a listless disinterest. She’d once said contemptuously that killing yourself for a salary that couldn’t even buy a bottle of Ace of Spades was pointless. I knew we were fundamentally different people. We had nothing in common except for the physical connection. I didn’t understand her soul; I only coveted her body. She ignored my efforts; she only took my compliance for granted. Which was fine. It meant that when we split, neither of us would be heartbroken. I thought for a moment, then agreed. After hanging up, I glanced at my flight details. Ten in the morning, the day after tomorrow. I sighed. I hadn’t really wanted to break up this quickly. We were so good in bed, and with the stress of a new position, I was kind of hoping for one last go. A breakup fuck. I clicked my tongue, a little disappointed. But since the opportunity had presented itself, I might as well go with the flow. … When I arrived at Phantom, Sienna was the center of attention in a VIP booth, surrounded by a glittering crowd. Men and women, all stylish, all beautiful, their faces glowing with the collagen of youth. It made sense. Sienna was rich, gorgeous, and generous. On her, even promiscuity was spun into the “untamed” charm of an artist. I subconsciously touched the fine lines around my own eyes, recalling something Sienna had once said with a hint of disdain. “Lucas, you’re 32. Can’t you take better care of yourself? Stop being so rugged.” No wonder she was tired of me. She was surrounded by kids in their early twenties. I stayed silent, standing at the edge of the crowd. Our eyes met across the booth. She acted like she didn’t see me, her gaze flicking away almost immediately. Aaron, his face flushed with alcohol, was practically draped over her, his voice syrupy. “Come on, Sienna, one more drink.” Sienna smiled. Under the shifting lights, her almond-shaped eyes shimmered like dark water, breathtakingly beautiful but utterly devoid of warmth. “Drinking like this is boring. You feed it to me.” “How?” Sienna didn’t answer, just lowered her gaze to his lips. It took him half a second to understand. A flash of ecstasy lit up his eyes. He tilted his head back and downed the glass of champagne. Then, Sienna’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of his head as she crashed her lips against his. Her kiss was anything but gentle; it was a release, an act of aggression. Aaron tilted his head back to receive it, the corners of his eyes turning red from a lack of oxygen. Champagne dribbled from the corners of their locked mouths. The atmosphere around them exploded. Whistles and cheers erupted from the crowd. I knew she was doing it for me. She was punishing me. Punishing me for not placating her the other night, for daring to give her the cold shoulder. It wasn’t until I walked right up to their booth that the noise died down. Everyone turned to watch the show. Sienna looked up, her expression placid. “What are you doing here?” I stared at that face, and for a fleeting moment, I was lost in the memory of four years, of countless nights tangled together. In the heat of passion, we had even said “I love you.” Did it hurt? Maybe a little. But it wasn’t agony. After all, I had always known who Sienna was. Promiscuous, always chasing the next thrill, incapable of saying no. Selfish, raised to be the center of the universe, never considering anyone’s feelings but her own. My voice trembled as I spoke. “Sienna, you’ve gone too far.” She looked at me, and though she was sitting and I was standing, I felt as if she were looking down on me. She wore that same placid expression, tinged with a faint, contemptuous smile. “Too far? You can always break up with me. I’m not stopping you.” I said nothing, just held her gaze. I couldn’t count how many times she’d used that threat against me. Eighty? A hundred? A friend next to her must have thought she’d pushed it, tugging at her arm. “Sienna, come on. Look at Lucas, he’s crushed.” And in fact, my eyes were red. If you’re going to put on a show, you go all the way. When that single tear hit the carpet, I saw her expression falter, just for a second. The hand holding her cigarette twitched. But she said nothing, only watched me with that cold, unwavering stare. The next second, I spoke, my voice barely a whisper. “Fine, Sienna.” “Let’s break up.” The mask on Sienna’s face finally cracked. For a moment, I thought she was going to flip the table. But instead, she laughed. It was a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes, a sound that seemed squeezed from between clenched teeth. “Alright, Lucas. You’ve grown a spine. But you remember this: I don’t do second chances.” “So don’t come fucking crawling back to me like a dog.” “I won’t,” I nodded, wiping the tear from my cheek. Then I turned and walked away, and I didn’t look back. Sienna didn’t come home that night. I spent the early hours deleting her from my contacts, my socials, my life, and packing the last of my things. The next morning, I was on the first flight back to headquarters. As the plane climbed into the clouds, I pulled out my SIM card and dropped it into the trash bag. 4 I never contacted Sienna again. Life back at headquarters quickly fell into a routine. I quickly adapted to the rhythm of the new department and even met the woman my parents had arranged for me to see.

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To get my struggling idol boyfriend the exposure he needed, I became his dedicated fansite master. When he sang off-key, I auto-tuned his voice until it sounded “kissed by an angel.” When his acting was stiff, I edited his rare laugh into a viral clip called “A Ray of Sunshine.” When he threw a tantrum, I faked donation records to save his image. After he skyrocketed to fame, he promised to announce our relationship. But backstage, I overheard him tell his agent, “The photos went viral because I’m talented. Ava just clicks a shutter button and thinks she’s a kingmaker. I can’t go public with her — it would upset Diana.” Diana? The actress leeching off his fame? I laughed bitterly, put away my camera, and with it, all my love for him. Fine. We’re through. Good luck shining on your own, Ben. 1. “Ava’s just got a massive ego, always thinking she’s the one who made me famous,” Ben said with a sigh. “The truth is, it was my own fame that made her videos go viral.” His tone then shifted, becoming eager. “Tonight’s my performance with Diana. Make sure Ava gets plenty of photos of us together.” “She won’t get mad. She’s so in love with me, she’ll just convince herself it’s all for work.” The agent clicked her tongue. “Making your girlfriend take shipping photos of you and another woman. Classy, Ben.” “But I’m warning you, don’t push it too far. Ava has a huge following of her own…” The cynical laughter from inside the dressing room continued, but a sudden, icy gust of wind cut through me, leaving my heart feeling hollow and cold. Ben had been in the industry for five years. For the first two, he was a nobody. In his third year, my million-follower fan account appeared out of nowhere. I produced a steady stream of viral photos, all thanks to my stubborn refusal to admit his flaws. I’d style his outfits in adBright, then wait for hours at the airport to snap “candid” shots, stubbornly insisting he wasn’t a “bad dresser.” I ran myself ragged networking for him, just to get him a seat one row closer to the front at award shows, stubbornly insisting he wasn’t a “nobody.” After Diana came into the picture, they did three projects together, and the online hype around their “couple” status exploded. With it came the haters, mocking his playboy looks. Before, I would have used my army of burner accounts to defend him. Now, I couldn’t bring myself to be stubborn anymore. The truth had been hammered home by Ben himself. Snapping back to the present, I packed up my camera right in front of his approaching assistant. “Something’s come up. Don’t bother saving me a spot tonight.” As I left, I saw Diana walk into Ben’s dressing room with a bright smile. A moment later, his agent emerged, a knowing smirk on her face as she quietly closed the door behind her. I walked out into the frigid December wind and, to my own surprise, laughed out loud. He really thinks he got this far on his own talent? Fine. Let’s see what kind of “talent” you really are. I pulled out my phone, logged into the account dedicated to him, and sent a private message to his biggest rival’s management studio. [Hi, need a fansite master? One with a million followers.] 2. Back home, I edited a few clips of Ben’s rival and posted them on a new, smaller account to test the waters. Ben didn’t call me all night. It seemed he’d completely forgotten his promise to announce our relationship at the concert. Without the need to stay up all night shooting and editing for him, I was in bed by midnight and slept soundly, dreamlessly. The next morning, I made breakfast only for myself. Ben had developed a sensitive stomach from years of hustling for gigs in his early days. Because of that, I always took his breakfast very seriously. I’d stay up editing until the early hours, then wake up at dawn to pore over healthy recipes and cook for him. In all those years, it never once occurred to me to make an extra portion for myself. It was almost noon when Ben finally came home, smelling of a perfume that wasn’t mine. He walked in and immediately tried to hug me, his face a mask of apology. “I’m so exhausted, Ava. The team dragged me out for drinks right after the concert, I didn’t even have a chance to call you.” I shifted slightly, avoiding his embrace. He froze, then scratched his head guiltily. “Are you mad because I didn’t announce our relationship? I don’t know what happened, there was a technical problem with the stage equipment. The special screen I had set up for you wouldn’t turn on.” “I didn’t want our announcement to be so rushed. Just wait a little longer, Ava. I promise, at the next concert, I’ll tell the whole world about us!” He spun a convincing tale, all without ever realizing I hadn’t even been at the concert. His PR skills had certainly improved over the years, even if nothing else had. I scrolled through my phone, sinking into the sofa. The videos on my new account had done pretty well overnight. I planned to edit a few more today. Seeing that I was ignoring him, Ben, for once, didn’t go upstairs to sleep. He leaned over my shoulder, trying to make conversation. “What are you looking at, Ava?” I didn’t bother hiding my screen. “Just watching some clips.” Ben’s smile widened. “From my concert last night? Did you get some good shots of me and Diana?” “You know this was Diana’s first time at a concert, Ava. It’s a huge talking point. If you got us in the same shot, I could piggyback on the buzz.” Just then, his phone pinged. The smile that spread across his face as he looked at the screen was far more genuine than the one he’d given me. “That’s Renee, my agent. She’s here to pick me up. I have a scene this afternoon, so I can’t stay. Be a good girl and wait for me, okay? We’ll have a big dinner tonight.” He rushed out the door, in such a hurry that he knocked a small ceramic figure off the coffee table. It was a piece he had given me back when he was still a struggling nobody. He had been on an international shoot with a major production and that was all he could afford. When he gave it to me, he’d kept his head down, speaking in a low, determined voice, as if trying to convince both of us. “I’m going to work harder, make more money. One day, you’ll come abroad with me as the girlfriend of the male lead. You’ll be able to buy whatever you want, without ever looking at the price tag.” I stared silently at the ceramic figure, now broken in two. I raised my phone. Through the window, I saw Ben getting into a car. Just as a hand reached out to pull him in, I pressed the shutter. It clearly wasn’t his agent’s car. The hand pulling him inside wore a bracelet Diana had been wearing just last night. If he couldn’t even be bothered to cherish our last remaining memory, then I had no reason to cherish the path I had paved for him. A lack of talent would just send him back to being a nobody. Cheating… that was the kind of scandal that could truly bury him. 3. I spent the rest of the day editing videos. That evening, a message from Ben popped up. [Sorry, Ava! The director added a bunch of scenes last minute. I can’t make it home tonight!] I emotionlessly opened Diana’s social media. The latest post was a selfie taken in a hotel room. In the corner of the shot, strewn on the floor, was Ben’s jacket. I saved the image, then found an old photo of Ben wearing the same jacket and put them side-by-side. Just then, a new notification appeared. [Hello, ‘StarlightAva,’ we would like to formally invite you to David Cole’s solo concert! We have reserved a front-row VIP seat for you and look forward to your attendance!] David Cole was Ben’s rival. I opened my new fan account and realized the videos I had casually edited yesterday had blown up. Over a hundred thousand likes, millions of views. The comment section was filled with people wondering how they had never discovered this hidden gem before. I raised an eyebrow. They were right. While this artist was still relatively unknown, he had a solid foundation. He was professionally trained. Most importantly, he had a powerful voice and real acting skills. He was leagues better than Ben. He probably just lacked good promotion. And speaking of promotion, this studio’s approach was a world away from what I was used to. In the five years I ran Ben’s fansite, I not only had to fight for concert tickets like everyone else, but he never even saved me an autographed photo. His excuse was always about saving resources—a ticket sold was money in the bank. A ticket given to me was a waste. I glanced at the time. The concert was on the same night as Ben’s, in the venue right next door. Without a moment’s hesitation, I replied. [Of course. I’ll be there.] I assumed Ben wouldn’t be coming home that night. To my surprise, he showed up in the early evening. And trailing behind him was Diana, bundled up and hiding her face. “A few of Diana’s stalker fans snuck onto the set,” Ben explained. “They almost hurt her. I brought her here to lie low for a bit. You don’t mind, do you, Ava?” My focus was entirely on the video I was editing. “Whatever,” I muttered, not bothering to look up. Diana sat quietly on the sofa, occasionally scrolling through her phone and replying to messages from her team. I was halfway through my edit when Diana got up to get a glass of water. Suddenly, she cried out, “Oh!” The entire glass of water spilled onto my laptop. The screen went black instantly. On it were all my projects from the past several years. I shot to my feet. Diana was rubbing her ankle, her voice weak. “I’m so sorry, Ava. It was an accident…” I clenched my jaw. “It’s amazing how you can trip on a perfectly flat floor, Ms. Lane.” Ben came out of the kitchen with a plate of cut fruit. Seeing the scene, he immediately rushed to Diana’s side. “Ava, don’t blame her. She’s had a long day. She’s exhausted.” I took a deep breath. “She’s exhausted, so it’s okay for all the videos on my laptop to be destroyed? That’s years of my work!” Diana lowered her head and let out a small sob. Ben’s face hardened, anger flashing in his eyes. “Ava, can you stop being so dramatic? Diana and I are both tired. Don’t make more trouble for us.” “It’s just a few videos. I’m right here, aren’t I? If you want to shoot more, I can pose for you anytime.” I almost laughed in his face. “Do you have any idea what it takes to edit your audio? I have to adjust it note by note! It’s easy for you to say, but if you could actually sing on key, I wouldn’t have to be so protective of this stuff!” Ben’s pride was fragile. My words hit a nerve, and he exploded. “What’s that supposed to mean? If you don’t want to do it, then don’t! No one’s begging you! If I knew I’d have to deal with your attitude every time I ask for a video, I would’ve just hired a professional photographer!” “Fine,” I shot back. “Then hire one. I’m done.” Right in front of him, I logged into my million-follower account and deleted every single post. Ben looked like he was about to have a stroke. He stared at the empty account for a long moment, completely speechless. Diana tugged on his sleeve. “Ben, let’s not fight. Let’s just solve the problem. I should probably head back to the set.” “Wait, I’ll go with you. What if those stalkers are still there? What if they bother you again?” He shot me a venomous glare. “As for this problem, it’s pretty clear who’s not cooperating. She can figure it out herself!” He stormed out, dragging Diana with him. 4. That night, two topics shot to the top of the trending charts. #BenBrightOfficialGirlfriend #StanAbandonsBenBright My million-follower account was a wasteland, while Ben’s had a brand new post. It was a photo of his hand intertwined with Diana’s. The caption read: [Found the love of my life.] Everyone was speculating about who the woman was, but Ben had been careful. You couldn’t see enough to confirm it was Diana. Meanwhile, on my page, the comments were flooded with rumors that I had a meltdown over his “real girlfriend” and rage-deleted everything. The two trending topics made Ben’s fame explode. Viral clips and entertainment news accounts were everywhere. By midnight, his agent was fielding calls for new projects left and right. A message from Ben appeared on my phone: [Apologize, and I’ll announce that you’re my girlfriend at the concert.] I stared at the message, a cold fury rising in me, and blocked his number. Apologize? Let’s just wait until all the real dirt comes out. Then we’ll see who needs to apologize. Ben’s popularity was still soaring. I was satisfied. The higher you fly, the harder you fall. I didn’t see Ben for the next few days. On the day of the concert, I took a cab to the stadium area. As I got out, I ran right into Ben, who was there early for a soundcheck. His brow, which had been furrowed in a frown, relaxed when he saw me. “Ava, let me be clear. No apology, no official announcement. It won’t matter even if you came to watch.” Then, his eyes fell on the professional camera gear in my arms, and his smile widened. He took off his scarf and wrapped it around my neck. “You need to stay warm if you want to take good pictures.” “Renee is calling me. I’ve got to go.” I didn’t watch him leave. I took off the scarf and tossed it into the nearest trash can without a second glance. Then I turned and walked into the venue next door. In the dressing room, I uploaded a few videos I had edited the day before to my new account. Then I logged into my main, million-follower account. I selected the videos of Ben’s confessions of love to me, our chat logs, and the photos and videos of him getting into Diana’s private car and bringing her to our home. I uploaded everything. Of course, I didn’t forget to tag him. You want to trend? Fine. I’ll help you. With that done, I slung my massive telephoto lens over my shoulder and headed into David Cole’s concert. … In his dressing room, Ben waited for me, but I never came. He started to get anxious, pacing back and forth. He scrolled through his phone and saw a few clips from his rival’s concert. The editing style, the camera angles… they were all disturbingly familiar. The more he watched, the more agitated he became. His agent’s voice crackled through his earpiece, telling him it was time. Ben shut his phone and walked onto the stage, a knot of anxiety in his stomach. The moment the stage lights flared to life, his agent’s panicked scream exploded in his ear. “Ben! Check the trending topics! Now! The entire list is people calling you a cheater!”

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1 Rovan’s overseas business trip ended in disaster. The only one who returned was his twin brother, Adrian. The grief was a physical blow. I collapsed, spitting blood. Clutching my wedding photo with Rovan, I threw myself into the sea seven times, and seven times I was pulled back from the brink. The eighth time I was rescued, I overheard Adrian arguing with my mother-in-law. “Rovan, how long are you going to keep this up? Beth has tried to kill herself eight times because she thinks you’re dead. You have to tell her the truth!” Adrian’s brow furrowed in refusal. “No. My brother gave his life for me. I have to take care of his fiancée for him.” “My sister-in-law is even more fragile than Beth. Once she’s pregnant and has something to live for, then I can safely admit that I’m Rovan.” I froze, the biting cold of the seawater nothing compared to the ice flooding my veins. I had nearly destroyed myself for him, yet in his heart, my life was worth less than a flicker of pity for his brother’s fiancée. If that was the case, I wanted no part of such a love. … My mother-in-law pleaded, her voice laced with desperation. “But Beth is your wife! How can you stand to see her suffer like this? If this ever gets out, there will be no going back for either of you.” “I can see that your heart truly belongs to Beth. I can’t let you throw away your future in a moment of misguided guilt.” Her words were sincere, but he just shook his head. “Don’t worry, Mom. I have a plan for Beth. I’ve already had the highest-grade amnesia drug sent from a top lab in Switzerland. Once she takes it, she won’t remember anything. She won’t try to kill herself anymore.” “After I get my sister-in-law pregnant, I’ll give Beth the antidote and beg for her forgiveness.” “She loves me so much. I know she’ll understand.” My body went weak. I couldn’t listen anymore. I stumbled back to my room, collapsing onto the bed. The wedding photo of Rovan and me crashed to the floor. The glass frame shattered, just like my heart. A few moments later, he walked in. “Sister-in-law, I heard you tried to jump into the sea again. You look so pale. Are you feeling unwell?” “My brother may be gone, but we are still family. I made you some herbal tea. Drink it, it will warm you up.” I stared at the bowl in his hands, my eyes burning. “No, thank you. I just want to be alone.” But he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be difficult. My brother wouldn’t want to see you like this. You have to drink this.” With that, he forced my jaw open and poured the liquid down my throat. I choked, tears streaming down my face as I shoved him away. He looked at the empty bowl, a sigh of relief escaping him. He then scanned the room, his eyes landing on my diary. He expertly snatched it and tossed it into the lit fireplace. One by one, he gathered everything that held a shared memory between us and threw it into the flames. I screamed, lunging to stop him, but he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me back. He looked at me, a flicker of pity in his eyes. “Don’t blame me, sister-in-law. This is the only way you can truly forget my brother and start a new life.” “I’m doing this for your own good. I want you to live.” He then pulled the wedding ring from my finger and tossed it into the fire. I had worn that ring for seven years. He had it custom-made for me. It was my most treasured possession, the one thing I had left to remember him by. Tears finally streamed down my face. I thrashed wildly, trying to kick over the fireplace screen. The commotion woke my sister-in-law, Maya. She hurried over to see what was wrong. Her face fell when she saw me locked in Adrian’s embrace. “Honey, what are you two doing? The smoke… it’s choking me.” He immediately let me go. “Take the fire outside,” he ordered. Then, without another glance, he led Maya away. Three minutes later, I heard the sounds from their bedroom. Her moans, sweet and cloying. “Oh, Adrian, you’re so rough…” “Your sister-in-law is right outside. Aren’t you afraid she’ll hear?” 2 My fists clenched, my heart twisting in agony. As I watched our memories turn to ash, a piece of my soul burned with them. The next second, the drug took effect, and I blacked out. In my dream, I saw Rovan again, the way he was when he was twenty. He told me he was sorry, that he hadn’t taken care of me. I watched as his body slowly faded, morphing into Adrian’s. “No, Rovan, don’t leave me…” I cried out, lunging for him, but I fell through empty air. When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed. Adrian was sitting beside me. He let out a breath of relief when he saw I was awake. “Sister-in-law,” he began, his voice hesitant. “Do you remember who you are?” I looked at him, my expression blank. If he was so determined to abandon our past and play the savior for Maya, then fine. I would give him exactly what he wanted. I would forget everything. “No.” Hearing my answer, he didn’t look as pleased as I had expected. He cleared his throat, gave me a brief explanation of what had happened, and then added, “Maya fainted from the shock of seeing you collapse. She needs a blood transfusion. Are you willing to donate?” My eyes dropped. He knew I had a clotting disorder. In the past, he would have never allowed me to even get a paper cut. Maya must have truly captured his pity. I nodded. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a flash of guilt on his face. He reached out, his hand instinctively touching my forehead. “You’ve really forgotten everything?” And, of course, Maya chose that exact moment to walk in. She shot me a venomous glare and left without a word. Only after my blood had been drawn did she saunter back in. “Sister-in-law, have you no shame? Adrian might look like his brother, but they are not the same person.” “I get that you’re grieving, but that doesn’t give you the right to steal my husband.” “And just so you know, I was perfectly fine. I just wanted you to lose a little blood to teach you a lesson. If I see you getting close to my Adrian again, I won’t be so nice.” A wave of humiliation washed over me. I wanted to scream that she was the one who had stolen my husband. But I said nothing. Maya took my silence as defiance. “And another thing,” she continued, “I’m pregnant. Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. I’m going to tell him the good news then.” My gaze fell to her slightly rounded belly. A bitter smile touched my lips. “Is that so? Congratulations.” I turned my head away, unwilling to look at her any longer. Frustrated at my lack of reaction, Maya huffed and left. Alone in the room, I called my parents. “I don’t want to stay with the Valerius family anymore. I want to come home.” They already knew about Rovan’s “death” and had been worried sick. “Of course, sweetheart,” my dad said immediately. “Your brother Liam just got back from overseas tonight. He’ll come and get you tomorrow.” Liam was adopted by my parents when we were children. He had always been brilliant. He’d worked his way through college and earned a scholarship to study abroad. I hadn’t expected him to be back. We arranged a time, and I hung up. Then, I messaged a lawyer friend, asking her to draft a severance agreement. When a spouse dies, the marriage is legally dissolved. But I was worried that “Adrian” would eventually admit he was Rovan and try to entangle me in his life again. It was better to make a clean break now. I traced the faint indentation where my ring used to be. Rovan, I thought, I did love you. But I will not take back a man who’s been sullied. 3 A short while later, Adrian returned to my room. “Sister-in-law, tomorrow is my anniversary with Maya. I was hoping you could plan something for us. You know what women like better than I do.” I paused. “I’m not feeling well. You should do it yourself.” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of concern on his face as he reached out to feel my forehead. “Really? What’s wrong?” At that moment, an angry shout came from the doorway. “Sister-in-law, I can’t believe you’re so vicious! You’re using a voodoo doll to curse me!” Maya stormed in, holding a doll riddled with pins, tears streaming down her face as she accused me. Her eyes, however, held a clear warning. I realized instantly what she was doing. This was her revenge. Without a second thought, Adrian believed her. He snatched the doll and threw it at me. “How could you do this to Maya? What did she ever do to you?” The pins pricked my skin, drawing blood. He just said I deserved it. Seeing Maya still crying, he declared he was locking me in the hospital morgue for the night. “Maybe then you’ll reflect on what you’ve done. I’ll let you out in the morning.” I shook my head frantically, trying to defend myself. “I didn’t do it! She’s framing me, I swear…” He slapped me across the face. “Enough! I believe Maya. She’s too kind to frame anyone!” They locked me in the morgue without a shred of mercy. Faced with a room full of corpses, I almost fainted from terror. I pounded on the door, begging him to let me out, but he never relented. Maya even had the power cut, plunging the room into absolute darkness. I huddled in a corner, my head in my hands, consumed by fear and helplessness. The slightest sound made my hair stand on end. In that moment, I began to seriously question my judgment in men. By the time he finally let me out the next morning, I was burning with a high fever. Adrian frowned. “I only left you in there for one night. Did you have to make yourself sick on purpose?” His expression was complicated. “Let’s get to the party. I’ve sent someone to get you medicine. We can’t be late.” I was weak, my voice hoarse. “I’m not going. I want to go home…” He hesitated for a second, then forcibly pulled me into the car. “No. Maya is already upset about the doll. Even if you’re sick, you need to go and apologize to her.” “Don’t worry. She’ll forgive you.” My eyes were swollen and red. “I told you, I didn’t do it. Why should I apologize?” His jaw tightened. He shot me a cold look in the rearview mirror. “Who else would want to hurt Maya?” I sighed, a sense of resignation washing over me. I felt nothing but a bone-deep weariness. When we arrived at the hotel, we walked into chaos. Maya’s boss was there with a group of thugs, smashing furniture. “You messed up the accounts! The company lost two hundred thousand dollars because of you!” he roared. “Either you pay up, or you go to jail!” Maya was terrified. When she saw Adrian, she ran to him as if he were her savior. “What do I do, honey? I really just made a mistake, I didn’t know it would cost so much.” She pressed an ultrasound report into his hand. “Honey, I’m carrying our child. I can’t go to jail. You have to do something…” Adrian looked at the report, and the deep frown on his face softened. He thought to himself, Finally, my duty is fulfilled. I can tell Beth the truth. But two hundred thousand was no small sum. The Valerius family couldn’t produce that kind of cash on short notice. The boss tried to force Maya to sign a work contract to pay off the debt. “No, she’s just found out she’s pregnant. She can’t do strenuous work.” Then, Adrian turned and pushed me forward. He looked at me pleadingly. “Sister-in-law, Maya is pregnant and unwell. Please, just sign this contract for now. We’ll figure something out later.” I refused, turning to leave. “I don’t owe him any money. Why should I sign?” Adrian cut me off, his voice sharp and urgent. “Why are you being so difficult? This is a crisis! We’re family! How can you just stand by and do nothing?” He grabbed my hand and forced my signature onto the contract. Then he stood by as the boss’s bodyguards gagged me and dragged me away. In the struggle, my shirt was torn open, exposing my waist. The boss’s eyes darkened with lust. “I hear your husband just died. Seems like this family doesn’t care much about you anyway. Why don’t you pay the debt with your body?” “Two hundred thousand. Twenty times with me. Seems fair, right?” He ordered his men to hold me down. I was already weak with fever, and my struggles were useless against their strength. Helpless tears streamed down my face. Seeing this, Adrian started to move towards me, but Maya grabbed his arm. “Those guys with him are dangerous thugs. Don’t go.” “Besides, if she can really get us two hundred thousand, what’s the harm in being touched a little?” Adrian’s first instinct was to snap at her, but then he saw her belly and forced himself to stay calm. “No, she’s still our sister-in-law. I have to help her.” But Maya ran to a table, threatening to hurt herself. “Adrian! If you go and something happens to you, I’ll kill this baby, and then I’ll kill myself!” He rushed to her side. “Don’t be rash, Maya! You and the baby have to be safe!” I watched them, my heart turning to ash. The boss’s hand cupped my cheek. “See? They don’t care about you.” “Why don’t you just come with me? Be my little mistress. I’ll take care of you.” Just as I thought all hope was lost, the bodyguards’ grip on me suddenly loosened. The police burst through the door and pulled me to my feet. Adrian sighed in relief, then looked surprised. “Who called the police? How did they get here so fast?” He raised his hand, intending to wipe away my tears. But at that moment, Maya clutched her stomach and cried out in pain. “Adrian, it hurts…” He rushed back to her side, his face etched with worry. “Did the stress affect the baby? I’ll take you to the hospital right now!” My heart was a dead, cold thing in my chest. I pulled out the severance agreement. “This is a list of offerings for my husband’s memorial. A family member needs to sign it.” Without even looking at it, he scribbled his name, then scooped Maya into his arms and ran to the hospital. I watched them go, my eyes like chips of ice. Clutching the agreement, I turned and walked away without looking back. From that day forward, I had nothing to do with the Valerius family.

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During the Black Friday sales rush, I was live for eighteen hours a day. I sold every last mango from Maple Creek. That night, the town mayor, Mr. Henderson, shoved a payment QR code in my face. “Rachel,” he started, a greasy smile on his face, “you’ve been live for over two weeks. You must’ve eaten a few hundred pounds of our mangoes.” “They’re selling for over a dollar a pound now. You’ve worked so hard for us, so we won’t ask for much. How about you just pay us a buck a pound for what you ate?” The other townspeople chimed in, their voices a greedy chorus. “That’s right! Rachel, you’re a huge influencer now. You can’t be taking advantage of your own people, can you?” I was just… stunned. For two weeks, I had been selling their mangoes for free. I didn’t take a single cent in commission. And now they wanted me to pay for the mangoes I sampled on camera? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I scanned the code and sent them three thousand dollars without a word. Two months later, the second harvest was ripe. Mayor Henderson found me again. “Rachel! You need to go live for a few more days! Sell this new batch for us!” I pulled a contract from my briefcase and slid it across the table. “Mr. Henderson, I have thirty million followers now.” “My fee for a single product feature is fifty thousand dollars. Payment upfront.” 1 When the final Black Friday livestream ended, my throat was raw. For fifteen straight days, I’d been staring at a screen for eighteen hours, and my teammate Kevin was so exhausted he’d fallen asleep right in his chair in the back. I pulled out my phone and sent everyone on the team a generous bonus, then cleared my tight, aching throat. “You all worked incredibly hard these past two weeks,” I rasped. “While every other streamer was cashing in on the holiday traffic, we were here, selling mangoes for our hometown for free. I know you all passed up lucrative partnerships for this, and I won’t forget it.” My assistant, Jenna, rubbed her bloodshot eyes. “Rachel, you’re the one who’s exhausted. The deals you turned down these past two weeks… we’re talking seven figures, easily.” Kevin, now awake, added his own hoarse comment. “She’s right.” “You did this for your old neighbors, paying for the equipment rentals and logistics out of your own pocket, without taking a dime in commission.” “You’ve got a heart of gold, Rachel.” I looked at the mountains of mango crates stacked in the warehouse, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling in my chest. Helping my hometown sell their harvest was worth earning a little less. Just then, the warehouse door creaked open. Mayor Henderson walked in, flanked by a dozen other residents of Maple Creek, his face stretched into a wide smile. He fumbled with his phone and held up a QR code for me to scan. “Rachel, my girl! You must have eaten your fair share of mangoes these past two weeks, eh?” He rubbed his hands together. “We won’t charge you the full price. Let’s just call it a dollar a pound.” My uncle, Jack, spoke up from the back. “She must’ve gone through at least two thousand pounds! That’s two thousand dollars right there!” I stood frozen, the words not quite registering. Jenna shot to her feet. “Sampling the product is to show the quality! Every streamer does it! How else would anyone buy them?” She gestured wildly at the warehouse packed with crates. “Rachel just sold out your entire town’s harvest! At market price, you’ve all made over six hundred thousand dollars. She didn’t take a penny, and you’re coming after her for a few hundred bucks for samples?” “We paid for the equipment and shipping ourselves! That was over ten thousand dollars right there, and we never asked you for a thing!” The townspeople exchanged uneasy glances. Some of them looked down at their feet. But Uncle Jack just stuck his chin out. “Business is business. Even family has to settle accounts. She has to pay for what she ate!” Jenna’s eyes welled up with furious tears. “Do you have any idea how many corporate sponsorships Rachel turned down for you? One of those deals alone could have bought every mango in this town!” The young woman’s raw anger silenced the room, but only for a moment. Mayor Henderson’s shifty eyes darted around before he cleared his throat. “Now, Rachel, we all know you worked hard. The whole town is grateful.” “But these mangoes… we wake up before the sun to grow them. This harvest is all we have to live on for the whole year.” He pointed to the people behind him. “Look at your uncle Jack. His son’s college tuition is due. And Mrs. Gable’s husband is sick. We’re not like you, making a fortune with every livestream.” Uncle Jack added his own two cents. “Two thousand dollars is a fancy dinner for you. For us, it’s six months of groceries.” The mayor pushed the phone closer to my face. “You’re a big-shot influencer. You’re not going to nickel-and-dime your own people over this, are you?” 2 That line seemed to straighten their spines. The murmurs started again, louder this time. “Exactly! The donations you get in your streams are insane. You’re telling us you can’t spare two grand?” “Growing these things is back-breaking work! You just talk into a camera and get rich. You owe us a piece of that!” Mrs. Gable started dabbing at her eyes. “I can’t even afford my husband’s medicine. You can’t just eat our mangoes for free.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Mrs. Gable, you can’t afford his medicine?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Every year before this, your mangoes would rot on the branch. This year, your family alone sold eight thousand pounds.” “At the current price, that’s at least eight thousand dollars in your pocket. How can you not afford medicine?” She froze, her eyes darting away, unable to meet my gaze. Uncle Jack quickly jumped in. “That’s a separate issue! We’re talking about you eating our mangoes for free!” Looking at his self-righteous face, I felt a sudden, sharp sense of absurdity. For two weeks, I had survived on three or four hours of sleep a night, my voice so raw I could barely speak, yet I kept pushing through the streams. My team was right there with me, eating cold sandwiches and sleeping on army cots. And for what? So these people could have a better life. And now? The moment the money hit their accounts, they were here, demanding I pay for the samples. I looked down at my own chapped lips and suddenly felt like the past two weeks had been a complete waste of time. Seeing my silence, Uncle Jack pointed a finger at my face. “Have you forgotten where you came from, Rachel Miller? Your parents were dirt poor! If this town hadn’t pooled its money to send you to college, where would you be today?” “You used to come to my house for dinner every single day when you were in school! And now you’re arguing with us over a few bucks?” “That’s right! We treated you better than our own daughter! You can’t be so heartless!” A few of the older folks started nodding and muttering. “We never should’ve helped her get an education. Just raised an ungrateful viper.” Their words were like lashes, dredging up every small kindness from my childhood and using it to whip me. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You’re right, Uncle Jack. I did used to eat at your house.” “But do you remember? I always had to wait until your dog, Rusty, had finished eating before I was allowed to get the bowl you saved for me by the stove.” “Sometimes I could see scraps of meat in Rusty’s bowl. Mine just had watery, sour porridge.” Mrs. Gable tried to interrupt, but I held up a hand. “And about the tuition money… you might have forgotten.” “But I remember my father, on his knees in your living room, signing a loan agreement that used our house as collateral. You only agreed to lend him the two hundred dollars after he promised you a thirty percent interest rate. I’m sure the town hall still has the record somewhere.” Jenna, her eyes blazing, stepped in front of me like a protective lioness. “The first thing Rachel did after she got a job was pay everyone back! She worked a day job and streamed at night, saving every penny. She paid back the principal and the interest!” she yelled. “In fact, she gave every family an extra hundred dollars on top, and you, Uncle Jack, you complained that the interest was calculated wrong and should have been more!” She pulled out her phone, scrolling through photos. “And what about the ten thousand dollars she donated to pave the town road? Or the five thousand for the school? Do you want us to pull out the receipts for all of that, too?” The townspeople looked at each other, and a few started to back away. Uncle Jack’s face went from red to white, his mouth hanging open. Just then, the mayor’s daughter, Eva, pushed through the crowd with a few other young people. She crossed her arms, looking me up and down with a condescending smirk. “Rachel, darling, dragging up the past is just tacky. Helping you back then was a favor. Isn’t it only right for you to pay it back to the community now?” “Besides, you were the one who promised to sell all the mangoes for free. You can’t go back on your word.” The kids behind her nodded in agreement. Eva’s gaze drifted to the crates of mangoes, and she sighed dramatically. “We know you’re not short on cash. And you’re always talking on your streams about creating ethical standards for helping farmers. You can’t be the one to break the rules, can you?” “You ate so many mangoes during the stream. You can’t just let that slide.” She gently pushed the QR code closer to me again, her voice soft but laced with steel. “Two thousand dollars is just one less designer bag for you. But for these people, it’s a year of hard work.” A young man with bleached hair behind her chimed in. “If your fans found out you were getting free food and handouts from your poor hometown, you might lose a few followers, huh?” “We’re all recording this, by the way. So, Rachel, what’s it going to be?” Instantly, several of them raised their phones, pointing the cameras at me. “If we don’t get the money today, this is going straight online!” Uncle Jack shoved Jenna aside, his face contorted with rage. “If you don’t pay up today, none of you are walking out of Maple Creek!” The warehouse erupted into a chaotic scene, the townspeople swarming around me, hands outstretched, demanding their money.

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The first thing the eighteen-year-old Kevin asked when he time-traveled to my present was, “Did I cheat on you, years from now?” From my lonely perch in this giant villa, I asked in surprise, “How did you know?” Eighteen-year-old Kevin gripped my hand. “Evelyn, just you wait. I’m going to beat the living crap out of my future self!” Leaning against the doorframe, twenty-nine-year-old Kevin asked with a cold smirk, “Beat the crap out of who?” “Trying to move in while the master’s away? Have some shame, Kevin.” 1. From our first date to our wedding day to this life together, it took Kevin and me nearly eleven years. But when I found a long strand of hair that wasn’t mine on his suit jacket and the smudge of cheap, dusty rose lipstick on his collar, I knew. Kevin was cheating. I accepted it with a strange sense of calm. It had been a long time coming. Humans aren’t built for eternal devotion. In the end, love is just a contract of responsibility. Besides, Kevin gave me so much. Every time he came back from one of his trysts, he’d bring me a designer gift as a peace offering. Every week, money would appear in my account like clockwork. Watching the numbers on my bank statement climb, I learned to live with it. After all, I was useless. Shoulders that couldn’t carry a thing, hands that couldn’t lift. The kind of delicate disaster who sees stars just from standing up too fast. Whenever he finally got tired of me and asked for a divorce, I’d just grab my closets full of designer clothes and my collection of black cards and disappear. But then, that night, the eighteen-year-old version of Kevin traveled here through a painting I’d made long ago. I was curled up on the couch, eating spicy takeout and binge-watching a show, when a voice called out from behind me. “Evelyn?” I turned to see a young, boyish face. I stared for a long moment before speaking. “Kevin, did you secretly get a facelift behind my back?” “…” He blinked, then grabbed my hand. “You idiot! I’m the eighteen-year-old Kevin.” He held my hand tight, waving his arms around wildly as he explained how he’d come through the painting. “I just touched it, and then this powerful, mysterious force just yoinked me into the future!” When you get to a certain age, your emotions tend to level out. I calmly watched this dramatic teenager. “Have you had dinner? You want to grab a bite before you go? I ordered enough for two.” Eighteen-year-old Kevin shook his head frantically. “I didn’t come here to eat!” “I came to ask you something important. Did I—the future me—fucking cheat on you?” That caught me off guard. “How did you know?” His eyes turned red. “Evelyn, you just wait. I swear I’m going to kill me!” Before either of us could react, a cold laugh echoed from the doorway. Twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was back, I don’t know when. He held a gift bag in one hand, his shoulder resting against the doorframe. His gaze landed like a physical weight on our joined hands. “Kill who?” “And who gave you permission to hold my wife’s hand?” “Trying to steal what’s mine while I’m away? Have a little self-respect, Kevin.” The younger Kevin was a lit fuse. He shot to his feet. “Who the hell is the shameless one here? You’re sneaking around behind this beautiful woman’s back, and you have the nerve to talk!” The older Kevin pulled me to his side. “You are, obviously. This is my wife, not yours. Now crawl back to whatever hole you came from.” The two Kevins started shouting over each other, and my head began to throb. The younger one, his eyes red-rimmed again, pointed a trembling finger. “Evelyn, you choose! Do you want the eighteen-year-old me, or this thirty-year-old fossil!” His expression screamed, If you don’t pick me, I’m going to throw a fit. 2. My twenty-nine-year-old husband let out a contemptuous laugh. “Kids are so melodramatic. What can you possibly give Evelyn? Go on, I’d love to hear it.” He pulled a glittering necklace from a box—the latest piece from my favorite designer—and gently fastened it around my neck. “I can give her anything she wants. And you?” “What can you do besides scream?” I thought the eighteen-year-old would back down. The adult world was far more complicated than he could imagine. But in the next second, his eyes welled up as he shot back, “At least I’m factory-new! Not like your second-hand equipment!” “…” It wasn’t just the older Kevin who went silent. I did, too. My husband’s face darkened. After a long pause, he forced the words out. “Evelyn, I am not ‘second-hand’.” The younger Kevin pulled me toward him. “Don’t believe him. Even if he’s not second-hand, he could be third-hand, fourth-hand, who knows? And you know Evelyn never shares.” The older Kevin was losing his famous composure, his anger rising to meet his younger self’s. “The only thing that matters is who can make her feel good! Are you as big as me? Do you have my technique? What can you do on your first time besides fumble around like an idiot?” The younger Kevin covered my ears. “La la la, I can’t hear you!” That was the last straw. The older Kevin looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. He grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn! The choice is yours. Choose. Me, the twenty-nine-year-old! Or him, the eighteen-year-old!” The younger one held onto my other hand for dear life, placing it on top of his head as he whispered pleadingly in my ear, “Evelyn, don’t go to him. Please, pick me?” The older one roared, “Have you no shame, Kevin!” “If it’s for Evelyn, I don’t need shame!” the younger one yelled back. One Kevin was already enough to drive me crazy. Now there were two. I yanked my hands free and slapped them both across the face. “Both of you, shut up! It’s too damn loud!” “I’m trying to eat. Go back to where you came from and do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing!” The eighteen-year-old clutched his cheek, looking at me with wounded eyes. The twenty-nine-year-old just let out a quiet chuckle and worked his jaw. “By the way, Kevin…” They both answered at once. “Which one?” My gaze settled on the older one’s face. “I’ve made up my mind,” I said coolly. “I’ll go on the blind date you set up for me.” “After all, you said it yourself. A hundred thousand dollars for each meeting, and if I find someone I like, I get shares in your company. An offer that good would be stupid to refuse.” A sharp, wounded noise escaped the younger Kevin. “What?! Kevin, have you lost your goddamn mind? How could you do this to Evelyn after everything she’s been through with you?” The older Kevin sneered. “Was I really this immature at eighteen?” “Stop looking at the adult world through your childish lens and go back to college where you belong.” “And stay away from Evelyn. I only arrange the best for her.” The younger Kevin punched the older one square in the jaw. “Bullshit! I won’t let Evelyn leave my world. Not even for you!” And with that, he vanished back into the painting. I stared at the canvas, reaching out to touch it. Nothing happened. Apparently, only Kevin could open the passage. 3. The painting was my final project for a class. I named it Unforgettable. The subject was eighteen-year-old Kevin. Using soft, warm tones, I tried to capture the love that seemed to spill from the eyes of a boy as radiant as the sun. Suddenly, the older Kevin wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips brushing my ear. “Feeling sorry for him? Having regrets?” I turned to face him and laughed. He took my hand and placed it on his bruised cheek. “You should be feeling sorry for me.” I’d already noticed the lipstick stain on his cuff. Today, it was a fiery terracotta. I looked at him, my smile laced with a double meaning. “Didn’t you already eat your fill before you came home?” “You haven’t touched me in ages. Did my eighteen-year-old self reawaken that long-dormant competitive spirit of yours?” Kevin froze for a second, then chuckled and let go of my hand. “Get some rest, Eve. Goodnight.” He turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to his back. “Kevin, the person you’re cheating with is the eighteen-year-old me, isn’t it?” He paused but didn’t answer. I was right. I’d found cigarette ash beneath the Unforgettable painting. Eighteen-year-old Kevin didn’t smoke. It had to be the twenty-nine-year-old. Dusty rose and fiery terracotta. My two favorite lipstick shades my freshman year of college. The eighteen-year-old me was a vibrant, aspiring artist, full of life and sunshine. The almost-thirty-year-old me had lost all of that spirit, a money-obsessed recluse with no soul. The only person Kevin loved was the eighteen-year-old Evelyn. Luckily, the twenty-nine-year-old Evelyn wasn’t sad. Because the only thing she loved now was money. A hundred thousand dollars for a blind date. I agreed without a second thought. No one turns their back on money. While the twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was scheming about how to handle the two versions of me across time, the eighteen-year-old Kevin was doing everything in his power to make both versions of me happy. This was the fifth blind date my husband had arranged. I offered a polite smile to the balding programmer across from me. His first sentence was: “I’m almost thirty, twenty-eight actually, a little younger than you. My mom says I need to have a kid soon, preferably a boy. It would be best if we could have two in two years.” I stirred my coffee, quietly listening to him outline our post-nuptial life while mentally calculating how much my savings would grow after this was over. “Even though you’re about to be divorced, I don’t mind. My mom says a woman who’s been married before is more experienced and knows how to take care of a man. And she’ll be more skilled in bed. You know, one man plants the tree, another enjoys the shade.” “Oh, and my mom said if we get married, she’ll buy us a condo downtown…” SPLAT. A torrent of black coffee flew across the table, silencing his irritating monologue with its bitter aroma. “Your mom says this! Your mom says that! If your mom has so much to say, why don’t you just marry her?” “Two boys in two years? You want Evelyn to give you two sons? In your dreams!” “Even I wouldn’t dare to dream that big, and you’re already living it!” The programmer stared in shock at the familiar face of his assailant. “Dude, are you having a fight with yourself? Weren’t you the one who wanted to find a good man for your wife?” “None of your business! Take a look at yourself in a puddle! If you’re not weaned yet, don’t come out and ruin other people’s lives!” … A clean, fresh scent of mint washed over me. Eighteen-year-old Kevin grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the cafe amidst a string of curses. This was the fifth blind date he had ruined. The first guy got a fist to the face for staring at my chest a second too long. The second lost a tooth for calling me ugly. The third was so hideous he was kicked out the door before he could even step inside. The fourth was too poor. Kevin just tossed a credit card at him and told him to get lost. “Arrogant” was the only word for eighteen-year-old Kevin. Even now, with the twenty-nine-year-old version of himself watching us with a thunderous expression from his car, he wasn’t afraid. Young Kevin shot him the middle finger and put a helmet on my head. Over the roar of the motorcycle, the boy’s defiant hair whipped in the wind as he complained angrily, “I can’t believe he’d actually do something like this! The twenty-nine-year-old me is such a loser! Cheating on his wife! And then making her go on dates with other men!” “Thank god I came, or I can’t imagine how much you would have suffered!”

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1 I bought a small slice of cake for my birthday. A gift to myself. I got home just as my sister was having one of her episodes. In the agonizingly slow minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive, my mom spotted the small cake box in my hand. All her fear and rage found a target. She lunged at me, and a sharp sting exploded across my cheek as her palm connected with my face. “Your sister is dying, and you have the nerve to be thinking about cake? How did I give birth to such a cold-hearted monster!” My dad’s foot slammed into the back of my knees, sending me crashing to the floor. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice a low growl. “If it wasn’t for Tina’s illness, we never would have had you!” The cake box hit the wall, splattering cream and crumbs across my shirt. I stared down at the mess, my head bowed. It felt like an eternity before I could speak. “Then you can just pretend I’m dead.” … The twisted fury on my parents’ faces froze, replaced by disbelief. “What did you just say?” I was a pathetic heap on the floor, my worn-out t-shirt smeared with buttercream. “I said,” I repeated, my voice surprisingly steady, a strange calm settling over me, “you can just pretend I’m dead.” My sister, Tina, was diagnosed with a rare congenital immune disease when she was three. She needed a bone marrow transplant. After my parents both proved to be incompatible donors, I was conceived to save her. Until I was six, I was passed around between relatives. The only time my parents ever appeared was when Tina had a flare-up, and they’d drag me, frantic and panicked, to the hospital. My entire childhood was a soundtrack of my own screams as thumb-thick needles plunged into my flesh, punctuated by my parents’ harsh commands to “hold still.” As I grew older, Tina’s staggering medical bills became a crushing weight. They pulled me out of school and forced me to study nursing, all so I could be a better caretaker for her. “You should be grateful to Tina,” they’d say, over and over again. “She’s the reason you exist.” “And I’d rather have never been born.” … Mom must have realized she’d gone too far, but her voice was still dripping with blame. “You know perfectly well your sister can’t eat cake because of her condition. You bought it just to spite her, didn’t you? I see right through you!” She snatched the ruined box and hurled it into the trash, the little fondant rabbit on top shattering into pieces. Then she turned to Tina, her voice melting into gentle sympathy. “Don’t you worry, my sweet Tina. In this house, no one will ever make you feel bad!” Dad’s face was a thundercloud. “How dare you talk back to us. You’re just asking for it, aren’t you?” The shouting had drawn the prying eyes of our neighbors, their faces peeking out from doorways. Mom immediately put on a mask of weary apology for their benefit. “Oh, please forgive the noise. Leah is just being a bit difficult. Her sister is having an attack, and she started a tantrum over wanting cake.” “Her father and I are trying to teach her some discipline. Tina’s so fragile, you know, and Leah will have to take care of her for the rest of her life. She can’t be so selfish!” She effortlessly painted me as the villain, directing the neighbors’ chorus of tuts and disapproving glares my way. But the truth was much simpler. I was just tired after a long day. I passed the bakery. The sweet scent pulled me in. I remembered it was my birthday. That’s all. The handprint on my cheek burned. I lifted my head, my gaze sweeping over the dining table, laden with an elaborate spread of dishes. “You know all of Tina’s favorite foods, her favorite jewelry… you have it all memorized.” A tear threatened to fall, but I blinked it back. My voice was barely a whisper. “Mom, do you even remember when my birthday is?” Her tirade stopped short. A flicker of confusion crossed her face. She didn’t remember. Just like she didn’t love me. I’d known this my whole life, but in that single, silent moment, the truth still managed to break me. The tears came, hot and silent. “August 19th,” I choked out. “It’s today.” “My eighteenth birthday.” I dropped my gaze, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Mom… what am I to you? Really?” For a second, I saw a flash of panic in her eyes. She opened her mouth, as if to offer some kind of explanation. But then a soft cough stole her attention. Tina’s eyes were red-rimmed. She coughed again, thumping a frail fist against her chest. “It’s all my fault,” she rasped, her voice thick with self-pity. “This useless body of mine… ruining my little sister’s birthday. I’m so sorry, Leah. Please, don’t be mad at Mom and Dad. It’s all my fault. You can hit me, yell at me, whatever you want…” With a dramatic flourish, she struggled to get up, as if she were about to kneel before me. I instinctively reached out to steady her, but a violent force slammed into me from behind. “Leah, that’s enough!” Dad roared, his eyes blazing with fury. “Tina is fighting for her life, and you’re still throwing a fit over a stupid piece of cake!” The kick sent me flying. My forehead smashed into the sharp corner of the table, and warm blood trickled down my face. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Tina’s tearful voice. “Oh, Leah, I envy you so much. You have a healthy body. You can celebrate your birthday like a normal person…” She let out a heart-wrenching sob. “Unlike me… I’m so sick I can’t even have a single bite of cake…” Her tears were all it took to melt our parents’ hearts and stoke the flames of their rage toward me. “Apologize to Tina. Now!” Dad commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. When I refused, his anger boiled over. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and started dragging me across the floor. The searing pain ripped a scream from my throat, which only seemed to enrage him more. “We had you for your sister’s sake! That’s it!” he snarled, yanking my head back. “If you can’t handle a little pain, how are you ever going to take care of her?” He forced me to my knees in front of Tina, slamming my head down against the floor. Once. Twice. Three times. Blood matted my hair and dripped onto the carpet. Only then did Tina speak, her voice slow and syrupy. “It’s okay, little sister. I forgive you.” She gave me a condescending smile. “Mom and Dad work so hard to keep this family afloat. You need to be more understanding and stop making them upset.” The neighbors cooed over how beautiful and kind and mature she was, how lucky our parents were to have such a wonderful daughter. No one spared a glance for the bleeding, broken girl in the corner. My heart, finally and completely, turned to stone. I staggered to my feet, desperate to escape. As I reached the front door, Dad’s icy voice cut through the air behind me. “You take one step out that door, and you are no longer a part of this family. You will have nothing to do with us ever again!” Decades of repressed emotion crashed over me like a tidal wave. A crushing weight settled on my chest, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. I collapsed, my body convulsing on the welcome mat. “Mom… help me…” I begged, my eyes finding hers. I thought, I hoped, that even if she didn’t love me, she wouldn’t just stand there and watch me die. But she just gave me a look of pure indifference. She even held up a hand to stop a concerned neighbor from approaching. “Don’t worry about her,” she said dismissively. “She’s always been a drama queen, pulling stunts like this for attention.” I stared at her, my world tilting on its axis. Her voice was cold as steel. “You tried this same trick ten years ago. It almost drove Tina to suicide. You really think I’m going to fall for it again?” Just then, the paramedics arrived. In a flurry of motion, they surrounded Tina, lifting her onto a stretcher. As they rushed her out, the last thing I heard before the darkness took me was my mother’s voice, laced with venom. “I will never forgive her for the scars on Tina’s body. Never.” When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm. A doctor with kind eyes sighed, his expression full of pity. “My dear girl… who did this to you?” My father’s parting gift. Three fractured bones. My phone buzzed on the bedside table. It was Mom. “Where the hell are you? It’s past dinnertime! Don’t you know your sister can’t go hungry when she’s this weak?” she screeched the moment I answered. “Tina wants sweet and sour ribs! Get them made and bring them over! Now!” Not a single question about where I was, or if I was okay. It was an asthma attack, triggered by the intense emotional distress. If the neighbor hadn’t ignored my mother and called a second ambulance for me, I might be dead. The life I owed them would have been paid in full. “From now on,” I said into the phone, my voice flat, “I have nothing to do with you.” I hung up. The only sound was the steady drip of the IV. And suddenly, a memory surfaced. I was six years old. Thanks to my bone marrow, Tina’s condition had stabilized. My parents, celebrating her recovery, finally remembered the little daughter they had stashed with relatives. They came for me on a snowy day. They saw my too-short coat and my hands covered in chilblains, and for the first time, I saw guilt in their eyes. They took me to an amusement park, to a real restaurant, to the movies. They bought me new clothes, a new backpack, and a soft, cuddly doll I fell in love with instantly. That night, I fell asleep clutching my new doll while my mother hummed a lullaby. It was the first time she had ever been so gentle with me. That gentleness shattered the day they found out Tina had tried to kill herself. In a sterile hospital room, I met my sister for the first time. She was swimming in an oversized hospital gown, a pale, fragile creature huddled in the corner of her bed. But her eyes, when they met mine, were full of a stubborn, wounded pride. When she saw our parents holding my hand, she burst into tears. “I’m just a burden to you, aren’t I, Mommy?” she wailed. “Everyone says now that you have a new daughter, you don’t want me anymore!” Mom rushed to her, pulling her into a fierce embrace, but it did nothing to stop the flow of tears. “Just let me die, Mommy,” she sobbed. “You have Leah now, a healthy child… I can’t do anything…” That was the moment. That was the day my mother made her choice. She held Tina’s face in her hands and told her: “You are the only daughter I will ever have. Leah is just a tool, born for your sake.” I was too young to understand what those words truly meant. All I knew was that from that day on, everything changed. Mom stopped calling me her ‘sweetheart.’ She never bought me another piece of clothing. For a long time, she wouldn’t even let me call her ‘Mom.’ “I only have one daughter,” she would say, as if trying to convince both herself and me. But I refused to believe it. I stubbornly craved that sliver of affection I once had. The memories flickered through my mind like a broken film reel. The door to my hospital room swung open. My parents and Tina stood there. Mom’s eyes widened for a moment when she saw the bandages. “You’re really hurt?” But before she could say more, Tina shot me a look of disapproval. “Leah, I know you’re jealous of me, but you shouldn’t fake an injury and waste medical resources like this. What about the people who are actually sick?” A look of dawning comprehension spread across Mom’s face. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Leah, will you ever stop? Can’t you quit these pathetic little games?” Her gaze softened slightly as she took in my pale face. “Alright, alright. I know you’re just upset that we forgot your birthday.” She pulled a bright red folder from her purse, but she handed it not to me, but to Tina. “You know, you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for your big sister. So, on your birthday, the first gift should naturally go to Tina!” She presented the folder to Tina as if it were a trophy. “Tina, honey, Dad and I sold the old family home to buy this for you. We know your health is poor and you can’t work. This house… this is your safety net. Your security.” “With this, even when Dad and I are gone, no one will ever be able to push you around!” Tina opened it, her gasp echoing in the quiet room. “Oh my god! A half-a-million-dollar lakeside house! Dad, Mom, thank you so much!” She threw her arms around Mom’s neck. Dad watched them, his expression soft and loving. A perfect, happy family of three. And me, the unwelcome intruder. After their tearful reunion wound down, Mom finally seemed to remember I was there. “I know how you like to keep score, so don’t worry. We got something for you, too.” She shoved a cheap, old bracelet into my hand. The glass stone was murky and dull. The faded trinket in my palm was a pathetic contrast to the vibrant deed Tina clutched to her chest. Suddenly, the birthday present I had yearned for for so long seemed utterly meaningless. Without another word, right there in front of them, I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Hello, I’d like to press charges.” “Against my own father.” At the police station, Dad finally snapped out of his stunned silence. “Can you stop this nonsense already?” was the first thing he said. “I hit you a couple of times, and you call the cops? Let me tell you something! You are my daughter! I raised you! It’s my right to discipline you, even if it means beating you to death!” He was panting, his eyes glaring at me as if I were his mortal enemy. Tina chimed in, her voice dripping with false concern. “She’s right, Leah. ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child.’ Dad was only doing it for your own good.” She turned to the officers with a helpless sigh. “My sister… she’s always been rebellious. She used to steal money and jewelry from our relatives when she was little. It only got worse as she got older. She dropped out of middle school, and… well…” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “She started sneaking out to spend the night with all sorts of men.” The air in the room shifted. Suddenly, every eye on me was filled with judgment. I trembled with rage. “Tina, you know damn well why I dropped out of school! How can you stand there and say that?” In ninth grade, I’d aced the city-wide exams. The best high schools were offering me full scholarships. All I had to do was show up. But then Tina had sighed one evening, “I envy Leah so much. She gets to have a normal, carefree school life. Unlike me… trapped by this body, I’ll never escape the hospital…” And just like that, my parents forced me to drop out. My teachers came to our house to plead my case. They promised I was university-bound. But nothing could sway my mother. “We’re a poor family,” she’d stated flatly. “We need Leah to get a job and earn money for her sister’s treatment.” But I knew the truth. It wasn’t about the money. She just couldn’t bear to see Tina sad. Before I could say anything else, Tina clutched her chest, a look of pain on her face. “I’m sorry, sister, I misspoke. Please don’t be angry…” That was all it took for Mom to lose it. “Enough!” she shrieked. “Tina was just trying to keep you from going down the wrong path! You should be grateful, but instead you scream at her? I’ve been too soft on you, and that’s why you think you can bully her over and over again!” Then, to my horror, Mom took out her phone, opened an app, and pointed the camera at me. “I should have listened to Tina from the start and put you on blast for the whole world to see what a monster you are!” Viewers flooded into the livestream. Fueled by my mother’s twisted narrative, a torrent of righteous fury was directed at me. 【These parents are too kind! That’s how you end up with a leech like her. I would’ve thrown her out years ago!】 【Exactly! Screaming at her sick sister? She’s doing it on purpose, the little psycho!】 … Watching the stream of hate-filled comments, Mom finally seemed satisfied. “See? Now you know how good we are to you.” “Oh, yes. Three broken bones. You’re just the best.” My voice was eerily calm, a stark contrast to the chaos on her screen. I looked past her, my eyes landing on Tina. “Doesn’t Tina remind you of someone?” I asked quietly. “Who?” Mom asked, caught off guard. “Evelyn.” Evelyn. The daughter my grandparents had adopted. My aunt. And my father’s unforgettable first love. At the sound of her name, the color drained from my father’s face. “Shut up! Don’t you dare say her name!” He was like a cornered animal, his anger mixed with a potent dose of guilt. This bizarre reaction didn’t escape my mother’s notice. “I remember Dad saying, back when he was drunk once, that Aunt Evelyn had the most enchanting, almond-shaped eyes.” My mother has soft, round eyes. I have her eyes. But Tina… Tina doesn’t look like our mother, or our father. She has the exact same almond-shaped eyes as Evelyn. Meeting my mother’s stunned gaze, I smiled and held out a document I had prepared. A declaration to sever all family ties. “Sign this,” I said, “and I’ll tell you a secret.”

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I was the star recruit, the prodigy the university had paid a fortune to poach. In my last life, during the final round of the National AI Championship, the son of the university’s Chairman of the Board submitted an algorithm identical to mine. My own teammate, my supposed best friend, testified that he personally saw me plagiarize it from the chairman’s son. I was publicly shamed, dragged through the mud. My girlfriend was my only solace, her comfort the only thing that kept me going. The scandal was just starting to die down when compromising photos of me surfaced online. The story spun was that I’d only been accepted into this prestigious university because I was a sugar baby for some rich old man. The university, citing damage to its reputation, sued me for an exorbitant amount in damages. I had no way to pay. In the end, I turned on the gas and let the darkness take me. When I opened my eyes, I was back. One week before the competition deadline. This time, I decided to just quit. Let them have it. But then my girlfriend told me she had a kidney disease and desperately needed money for a transplant. 1 “Joey, you’re exhausted. Don’t sleep at your desk, you’ll catch a cold.” My best friend’s voice woke me. For a disoriented moment, I saw him—Bob, the snake who’d sold me out. I rubbed my eyes. It was really him. I swung my arm in a wide arc and slapped him across the face. A sharp crack echoed in the lab, followed by a high-pitched yelp. “Agh!” Bob stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. I was just as shocked. In my nightmares, I’d done this a thousand times, but my hand had always passed right through him. This time, it connected. I slowly became aware that the low hum of the lab had fallen silent. I looked around. Everyone was staring at us. What was going on? “Where am I?” Bob clutched his cheek, looking utterly bewildered. “Joey, are you still asleep or something? We’re in the lab!” My eyes shot to the calendar on the wall. September 1st. One week until the competition deadline. Of course. No wonder Bob was so surprised. He hadn’t stolen my code for Jack Thorne, the chairman’s son, yet. I scrambled to apologize. “Bob, man, I’m so sorry. I was out of it, must have been a bad dream.” Bob patted my shoulder, forcing a smile. “It’s fine, dude. I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure. It’ll all be over after the competition. I’m counting on you to win so you can buy me dinner!” I nodded along. “Yeah, the pressure’s been getting to me. Headaches all the time. I think I’m just going to go home and get some real sleep.” Ignoring Bob’s stunned expression, I packed my things and walked out. Without the betrayal of my past life, I never would have realized he wasn’t my friend. He was my warden. He wasn’t waking me up out of concern; he was waking me up to make sure I kept working, to make sure Jack Thorne would have a winning project to steal. In my previous life, the university had poached me with a ten-million-dollar scholarship, personally offered by Chairman Thorne. At first, I thought they just wanted a poster boy to attract more students. I never imagined I was being drawn into a massive conspiracy. To justify that scholarship, I entered every competition I could. And in every single one, my scores were identical to Jack Thorne’s. Slowly, Jack’s popularity eclipsed mine. He was hailed as the handsome, charming genius, the full package. I was just the book-smart scholarship kid who was trying too hard. The poor can’t produce real genius, they’d whisper. I became obsessed with proving myself. I entered more competitions, worked harder, but no matter what I did, Jack’s results always matched mine perfectly. The other students started to mock me. “He looks so ugly when he’s trying so hard to win,” they’d say. “Jack doesn’t even have to try.” Some even started a rumor that Jack was intentionally matching my scores out of pity. Jack would then put on a show of magnanimity. “Hey, don’t talk about Joey like that,” he’d say with a pained look. “He’s not as gifted, maybe, but he really does try his best.” This only made them praise Jack’s generosity and mock my supposed lack of talent even more. As graduation neared, I taught myself AI, figuring it was a field so new that Jack couldn’t possibly follow me into it. He signed up for the same championship. I remember Bob sighing dramatically, “It’s like there’s only room for one genius in this town.” Before the competition even began, the whispers started again. “Think you can beat our golden boy by taking a different path? Looks like you walked right into his territory.” “I don’t get why Chairman Thorne wasted so much money on that guy. He’s so desperate to win. He should’ve just given the ten million to his own son.” Their words were like fuel. I pushed myself harder, pulling all-nighters, fueled by coffee and spite. The competition had multiple tracks. I chose iris recognition, a niche and difficult field of biometric security. I never, ever imagined Jack would choose the exact same one. He submitted his code the day before I did. After I uploaded mine, I went home and slept for a full day and night. I woke up to find my world had ended. I was being crucified online. I was an ungrateful leech, they said, who took the Chairman’s money and then stole his son’s work. Bob and I had been inseparable during the entire development process. He was the one person who could prove my innocence. Instead, he went to the media, his face a mask of righteous indignation. “I told him not to do it,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “I warned him, but he was just so obsessed with beating Jack for once. I tried to stop him!” The truth hit me like a physical blow. He had been my shadow for months, watching every line of code I wrote. He was the leak. The baseless accusations from strangers were one thing, but the betrayal from my closest friend broke me. I fell into a deep depression. My girlfriend, Nina, was my rock, patiently pulling me back from the edge. But just as I was starting to recover, Jack’s fanatical supporters released the final blow: doctored photos of me in a compromising position with a bald, older man. I tried to explain that they were AI-generated deepfakes, but no one believed me. The narrative was set. I had slept my way into the university. The school sued me for twenty million dollars for defamation. I had nothing. My only way out was the gas stove. But now, fate has given me a second chance. And I refuse to be Jack Thorne’s stepping stone ever again. My plan is simple: tomorrow, I’m quitting the competition and just coasting until graduation. 2 The next morning, for the first time in months, I wasn’t in the lab at 5 AM. Bob, my loyal supervisor, was always there with me at 5 AM sharp. I would start coding, and he would promptly fall asleep at the next workstation. Today, he wasn’t getting his nap. He was panicking. My phone buzzed with a string of calls from him, all of which I ignored. It wasn’t until 10 AM, after I’d secured a fake doctor’s note from an urgent care clinic, that I finally picked up. “Joey! Where are you? Why aren’t you in the lab? I’ve been calling you all morning, why didn’t you answer?” His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a sharp, frantic edge. I let out a fake cough. “I’m sick. Just got back from the doctor. Didn’t want to worry you, so I didn’t pick up. He said I’ve been running myself ragged and have a bad flu. Told me to rest for a week.” “But what about the AI championship? Chairman Thorne said he expects the winner to come from our university this year. Are you really going to let him down?” “It’s fine. I’m sick, but we still have Jack, right? I already gave my doctor’s note to the professor. She approved my withdrawal from the competition. I really don’t feel well. I’m going back to bed.” I hung up before he could argue. Back in my apartment, I collapsed onto my bed and went over the plan. If I don’t compete, none of the rest can happen. I’m just one person against a powerful family. This life, all I want is to live quietly and peacefully with Nina. Just as I was drifting off, my phone rang again. This time, it was Nina. “Joey, oh god, something’s wrong. I’m sick. I might need a kidney transplant. I need a lot of money!” I shot up in bed. “What? What happened?” Nina told me she had suddenly fainted and her classmates had rushed her to the hospital. The diagnosis was uremia. Kidney failure. My mind went blank. In my past life, Nina was perfectly healthy, right up until the day I died. She was never sick. Was this fate’s twisted joke? Was I destined to be separated from the one person I loved, no matter what? 3 Nina and I were childhood sweethearts. We’d been together for eight years; our bond was deep. When I was a kid, a fortune teller told my parents I was cursed and would bring them nothing but misfortune. They never let me forget it. The ten million dollar scholarship from Chairman Thorne? I gave it all to them to officially buy my freedom and sever all ties. Now, with Nina sick, I didn’t have a single penny to my name. But the prize money for the AI championship was two million dollars. Enough to save her. Was I really being forced back into the competition? I let out a long, heavy sigh. Maybe this was why I was brought back—not to escape my miserable fate, but to face it head-on. I canceled my medical leave and went back to the lab. The only person there was Bob. He gave me a smug look that said, I knew you’d be back. Seeing his triumphant expression, a hot spike of anger shot through me. “I’m still not feeling well,” I said coolly. “The professor agreed to let me work from home. So you don’t have to get up early to come to the lab with me anymore.” His smirk froze. As I started packing my laptop, he blurted out, “I can come with you! I’ll help you code at your place, and I can take care of you. How about that?” I politely declined. He opened his mouth to insist, but I was already out the door. I don’t know how much he got for selling me out in our last life, but I’ll be damned if he makes a cent off me in this one. My gut told me the Thornes wouldn’t give up that easily. Back at my apartment, I immediately swept my computer and my entire room for bugs, listening devices, and keylogging software. The scan came up clean. I could finally relax. I threw myself back into the work, writing and running code, losing track of time. Around 9 PM, my doorbell rang. It was Nina, a frown creasing her forehead. “Did you give Bob a hard time?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea how worried he was about you? Can you stop being so insanely jealous all the time? The only reason I even know Bob is because of you!” The accusation stung, but then I remembered how she’d stood by me in my past life, how she’d been my only light in the darkness. I couldn’t bring myself to argue with her. She was probably the only person in the world who truly cared about me. After a long internal debate, I decided to tell her everything. I laid out the whole story of my past life—Bob stealing my code for Jack, the public shaming, everything. Nina’s expression shifted from shock to pure fury. “How could they? Bob and the Thornes… that’s monstrous! So you’re just going to give up? But Joey… the doctor just told me today about my kidney. We need that money for a transplant!” A strange, unreadable emotion flickered in her eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. “But no matter what,” she said, her voice firm, “Joey, you can’t enter this competition. I would rather die than see you dragged through the mud like that again!” My heart ached for her. I pulled her into a hug, tears streaming down my face. “How could I ever just watch you die? Bob won’t be around this time. I won’t let them steal it! Don’t worry, Nina. I will win that prize money, and I will get you that kidney!” Nina hugged me back, nodding into my shoulder. As if in response, the Thornes declared war. Chairman Thorne announced publicly that the winning iris recognition project from the competition would be implemented directly into his corporation’s financial software. Technology and application, seamlessly integrated. The prize money was increased accordingly. Everyone saw it as a done deal. The Chairman was just making sure the prize money stayed in the family. The winner would, of course, be Jack Thorne. Nina was my constant source of encouragement, urging me to block out the noise. To help me focus, she started bringing me nutritious, home-cooked meals every day, despite her own failing health. Her cooking was incredible, better than any five-star restaurant. Seeing her unwavering faith in me, I couldn’t bear the thought of letting her down. I worked late into the night, every night. Finally, on the last day before the deadline, I submitted my code with absolute confidence. The result was the same. A crushing, familiar disappointment. Jack Thorne had submitted his code ten minutes before me. The judges once again ruled that I was the plagiarist. And once again, I was thrown to the wolves. I hid in my apartment like a stray dog while Jack, dressed in a designer suit, accepted the award on a grand stage. Chairman Thorne presented him with the trophy himself, proudly announcing that his son’s revolutionary iris recognition system would go live that very night. Just like last time, the internet vultures descended, their comments more vicious than I remembered. Nina tried to take away my phone and laptop, to shield me from the hate, but I stopped her. Because this time, I was waiting for something. The next morning, a new headline screamed from the top of every news site. 【Thorne Corp Financial App’s Iris Recognition Fails; System Unlocks with Picture of a Dog’s Eye】 【Thorne Corp Users Report Accounts Drained Overnight】 【Source Claims Up to $50 Billion Stolen; Chairman Thorne Previously Promised 20x Compensation for Any Security Breach. Will Thorne Corp Honor its Promise?】 The news exploded. No one cared about my plagiarism scandal anymore; they were all frantically checking their bank accounts. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a sense of peace. I could finally sleep. But someone was determined to ruin it. My phone rang, and it was Nina, her voice shrill with panic. “Joey, what is going on? How could Jack’s code have a bug?” I kept my voice calm. “His code has a bug. What does that have to do with me?” There was a pause, and then I heard Nina’s voice on the other end, tight, seething with a rage I’d never heard before. “When did you find out?” I played dumb. “Find… find out what?”

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1 My wife’s whole family was dying from pufferfish poisoning. The only antidote was made by her company. After 99 calls, she finally answered, annoyed: “Why are you blowing up my phone over one dance with Leo?” I begged her to bring the antidote—her parents and brother’s family were dying. But she gave it all to her first love, Leo, whose family was also poisoned. “They’re my assets. I decide,” she said coldly. “If your family died, that’s their bad luck.” She showed no remorse and even signed a settlement for me, protecting those responsible. When I demanded a divorce, she scoffed, “Your family’s dead—is that really a big deal? They were greedy to eat that fish anyway.” Righteous and unmoved, she still didn’t realize… the dead were her own family. My in-laws were rushed to the hospital after dining at a new upscale restaurant. Pufferfish poisoning. By the time I got there, they were already fading. The doctor was blunt. The only thing that could save them was a specialized antidote manufactured by my wife Chloe’s company. I started calling her immediately. She didn’t answer. Call after call went to voicemail. Finally, on the ninety-ninth try, she picked up. Before I could even speak, her voice, dripping with annoyance, cut through the phone. “It was Leo’s company gala. I danced one cha-cha with him. Why are you blowing up my phone?” The mention of Leo Vance sent a familiar spike of irritation through me. I wanted to confront her, to demand answers, but the thought of my in-laws fighting for their lives in the ER silenced the angry words in my throat. My voice trembled as I got to the point. “Your parents… your brother and his family… they’ve been poisoned by pufferfish. It’s bad, Chloe. The doctor said only your company’s antidote can save them. You have to bring it back, please…” Before I could finish, a cold, dismissive laugh cut me off. “Your family gets pufferfish poisoning, and I’m just supposed to hand over the antidote? Do you have any idea how much that stuff costs?” Her tone was chillingly detached. “I’m a businesswoman, Benny, not a charity. Call me back when they’ve scraped the money together.” Then, as if she couldn’t wait to be rid of me, she hung up. The dial tone buzzed in my ear. I just stood there, stunned, unable to process the cruelty in her words. How could that have been Chloe? My phone vibrated. A text message. It was from the bespoke watchmaker, asking if I was satisfied with the quality of my custom timepiece. It was a birthday gift from my parents. I’d been so swamped with work I hadn’t even had time to pick it up. Chloe must have gone behind my back. And I knew exactly what she’d done with it. She’d given it to Leo to make him happy. It wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this. Every time I confronted her, she’d sneer. “Look at yourself, Benny. Do you even think you deserve a watch like this anymore? It looks better on Leo. He has the class for it.” So generous with Leo, handing over a ten-thousand-dollar watch without a second thought. But when it came to an antidote that could save five lives, she had to nickel and dime me. Rage burned through me. I tried calling her again, but her phone was off. A few minutes later, I was scrolling through my phone when I saw her Instagram post from half an hour ago. A picture of her and Leo, dancing, his arm wrapped around her waist. He was wearing my watch. The caption read: “Gifting my love a custom watch and dancing the night away. Pure bliss!” I was shaking with a fury so intense I felt dizzy. As if on cue, a new post popped up on my feed. It was Leo. “Because of you, my family is safe. I’ll love you for a billion years!” The photo was a selfie. He was holding up a vial of the antidote, planting a kiss on Chloe’s cheek. I wanted to tear her apart. Her own family was dying, waiting for that very medicine, and she was off playing the hero for another man. Just then, the door to the emergency room swung open. The doctor approached me, his expression grim. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.” The tears came instantly. I had braced myself for it, but hearing the words still felt like a punch to the gut. Five lives. Just gone. Wiping my eyes, I pulled out my phone and called the watchmaker. “I never authorized anyone to pick up my watch,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “I think you’ve been scammed. You should call the police.” Five deaths put immense pressure on the police. It didn’t take them long to identify the owner of the restaurant. It wasn’t a stranger. It was Leo Vance’s parents. For a moment, I didn’t know how to feel. All my grief suddenly felt like a joke. I was a clown, mourning for the family of a woman who had just saved their killers. A bitter, humorless smile touched my lips. I hoped Chloe would never regret this day. The police officer explained, apologetically, that they couldn’t make an arrest yet. The restaurant owners, he said, were also in the hospital being treated for the poisoning. My face remained a mask of stone. “I know they were poisoned.” “But they’ve already been saved.” I looked the officer dead in the eye. “I will be pressing charges. I expect to see them in court.” My certainty seemed to surprise him, but he saw the look on my face and didn’t ask how I knew. He just gave a firm nod. “Rest assured, Mr. Knight. This is a five-person homicide case. We will investigate it to the fullest and bring justice to the deceased.” After finishing the paperwork, I collapsed onto a waiting room chair, every ounce of strength gone. That’s when Chloe called. She didn’t give me a chance to speak, launching into a tirade. “You had the store call the cops? Benny, are you insane? I’m your wife! How dare you accuse me of fraud?” “Because my father paid for that watch, Chloe. And speaking of which, where is the birthday gift my parents gave me?” Silence. After a long pause, her voice returned, softer now, laced with that familiar manipulative sweetness. “We’re a team, aren’t we? What’s yours is mine. Leo has wanted a custom watch for so long, just a little something to reward himself. How could I say no? You should have seen how happy he was.” “He’s not selfish like you,” she cooed. “He even told me to thank you on his behalf.” “Honestly, Benny, look at the difference between you two. The man has class…” She kept rambling, her voice a grating buzz in my ear, until I couldn’t take it anymore. “Shut up!” I roared. The word slammed into her, and she fell silent, stunned. A moment later, her voice came back, laced with disbelief and a wounded tone. “Benny… you told me to… shut up?” Chloe came from nothing, and I’d always been so careful with her pride, always spoken to her gently. I had never, not once, raised my voice to her. But today? Today she had chosen Leo over five human lives. I had no more ground to give. Even a dog shows gratitude when you feed it. She was worse than a dog. “Enough of your nonsense,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “The entire family is in the hospital morgue. Get back here and arrange their funerals.” Her response made me realize that comparing her to a dog was an insult to dogs. “They’re dead, so they’re dead. What’s there to arrange? The company needs to improve the antidote. They can finally be useful and contribute to the research.” “Leo had a scare today,” she added breezily. “I need to comfort him. I don’t have time for this. Just remember to have the bodies sent to the company labs.” She hung up before I could reply. And that’s when it fully hit me. Chloe still had no idea it was her family that was dead. I thought about it for a long moment. Then, I decided to honor her wishes. I would send her family’s bodies to her company. Let them be useful. Given that it was a case of five deaths, the legal proceedings moved quickly. That afternoon, Chloe stormed into our home, her face a mask of fury, and slapped me hard across the face. “Benny, when did you become so vicious?” she shrieked. “Leo’s parents just barely escaped death, and you’re already suing them? Are you trying to push them over the edge?” I held a hand to my stinging cheek, my voice void of emotion. “And they only escaped death thanks to your antidote, didn’t they?” She flinched, a flicker of guilt in her eyes, but she quickly covered it with defiance. “They’re my assets, so I decide what to do with them. If your family died, it was just their bad luck. Why did they have to get poisoned at the same time as Leo’s family?” Her voice grew louder, more self-assured with every word. “Leo’s parents are good people! It’s not like they killed your family on purpose. Can’t you be a little more generous? It was a small mistake, and you’re clinging to it.” “Even if you sue them, even if they go to jail, what good will it do? It won’t bring your family back.” Seeing my expression remain unchanged, she switched tactics, her tone softening into a coaxing purr. “I know it’s hard to accept their deaths right now, but you can’t bring them back. Those of us who are still alive have to move on.” “I’ve already talked it over with Leo. We’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars in compensation.” “Just drop the lawsuit,” she said, her voice light, as if a hundred thousand dollars could simply erase five lives. “Let’s just put this all behind us.” A morbid curiosity sparked within me. I wondered if she’d sound so casual if she knew it was her family we were talking about. When I didn’t respond, her face darkened again, her tone becoming hard and final. “You’ll agree whether you like it or not. I’ve already signed a settlement agreement on your behalf, as your wife.” “With my help, Leo’s parents will be fine, whether you drop the suit or not. But if you refuse, you won’t even get the hundred thousand.” A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I looked at her, my voice laced with ice. “If you’re so determined to protect the people who killed your entire family, there’s nothing more for me to say.” “I just hope you don’t regret this later.” “Regret what? Since you’ve agreed, I’ll call Leo right now.” She seemed surprised by my quick surrender, but she was too eager to think about it. She immediately dialed Leo’s number. Through the phone, I could hear his insincere, syrupy voice. “Chloe, darling, please tell Benny how sorry I am for his loss. I never imagined such a tragedy could happen…” I knew perfectly well Leo couldn’t come up with a hundred thousand dollars. But Chloe would cover for him. He’d probably contribute ten grand, if that. Sure enough, after she hung up, she disappeared into the bathroom. Less than two minutes later, a notification lit up my phone. A hundred thousand dollars had been transferred to my account. Seeing the bank alert, a knowing smile spread across my face. Then, slowly and deliberately, I pulled out the divorce papers I’d already prepared. “Sign them,” I said. “I can’t stay married to an accomplice in my family’s murder.” Chloe froze. Then she snatched the papers, her hands moving to tear them in half. I crossed my arms, my voice calm. “If you tear those up, I’m sending the hundred thousand right back to Leo. And our entire agreement is off.” Her hands stopped. Her eyes widened as if she were seeing a stranger. “You’re threatening me? Benny, you’re actually threatening me?” She completely lost it. “So your whole family is dead. Is that really such a big deal?” “Besides,” she raged, “if your parents and your brother weren’t so greedy, they never would have eaten the pufferfish in the first place!” “You’d divorce me over a bunch of dead people? Are you even human?” I just raised an eyebrow, perfectly calm. “No more talk. Are you signing or not? The choice is yours.” A storm of emotions crossed her face—white, then red, then dark, like a twisted kaleidoscope. The standoff lasted for what felt like an eternity before she finally ground out the words through clenched teeth. “I’ll sign.” She scanned the document, then angrily scrawled her name, the pen tearing through the paper. She threw it on the table with a sneer. “A hundred thousand dollars for five lives. Your family really went cheap.” I pressed my lips together, saying nothing. The fool. She still hadn’t noticed a single thing was wrong. She still had no idea. “Chloe,” I said. “Before the papers are final, we’re still husband and wife. Let’s go see Mom, Dad, and my brother’s family off one last time.” “After all,” I added, “I did what you asked. I sent them to your company, so they could keep being useful.” She was about to refuse, but my last words made her pause. Reluctantly, she nodded. In the company laboratory, Chloe stared at the five bodies covered by white sheets, her expression placid and detached. My own heart was a tangled mess of grief and a sharp, cruel satisfaction. “Dad, Mom, my brother Michael, his wife Sarah, and little Joey… Chloe’s finally here to see you…” Joey. That was her nephew’s nickname. The moment she heard the name, her calm expression shattered, ripped apart by a tidal wave of shock. As if struck by lightning, her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor, the blood draining from her face.

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1 Zoe, Adrian’s mistress, spun a twisted tale: that my daughter Annie, born with a lucky star, had stolen the very breath from her own child’s lungs. The next day, my seven-year-old Annie was forced to take Zoe’s place in a game of Russian Roulette. I dropped to my knees, begging them to spare my daughter’s life. But Adrian just sneered. “She’s got luck on her side, anyway. What’s the big deal if it makes Zoe feel better?” he said, his voice cold. “If Zoe’s happy, she won’t be giving me a hard time.” I could only watch in horror as Zoe placed the bet: one hundred million dollars. A million for every pull of the trigger. One hundred shots. Lady Luck only smiled on my Annie thirty-six times. On the thirty-seventh, a bullet tore through her head. But Adrian hadn’t even stayed to watch. By the seventh click of the empty chamber, he had already swept Zoe into his arms and carried her off to their suite. My screams were torn from my throat, a raw, primal sound that he later told me had served as his aphrodisiac. When he finally emerged, flushed and satisfied, he sauntered over and patted my cheek. “You know, your crying… it sounded so real. It was a real turn-on,” he praised. “Relax. The gun was never loaded. It was just a show for Zoe. A way for her to get some closure.” … Zoe’s child and my Annie had been in the same hospital, both critically ill. My Annie survived. Her daughter did not. Ever since, she’d clung to the insane delusion that my daughter’s good fortune had somehow siphoned the life from her child. “If your daughter hadn’t sucked all the good luck out of the room, my son would be alive!” Zoe would shriek. Adrian said nothing, but the next day, Annie was on that yacht, a sacrifice in a sick game. By the time I arrived, she was already strapped to a large, rotating wheel, her small body spread-eagled. To keep her from struggling, heavy-duty restraints bound her wrists, ankles, and neck. When she saw me, her voice, already raw from crying, cracked. “Mommy, help me! Mommy, I’m not a jinx, I’m not!” My Annie, who was always so careful about her appearance, was so terrified she couldn’t stop hiccuping. And her father, Adrian, watched as if the child on that wheel were a stranger, his expression a mask of indifference. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I surged forward to free her, but Adrian’s security guards blocked my path, their arms like steel bars. “Adrian! Are you insane? That’s your daughter!” I lunged, my fingers twisting in the fabric of his expensive collar as I screamed in his face. He shoved me away without a second thought, his arm instantly wrapping around Zoe’s waist, pulling her close. “Marissa, you’re the one who chose that hospital. You’re the one whose daughter drained the life from Zoe’s child. You both owe them this!” Then he turned to Zoe, his voice melting into a tender murmur. “Zoe, my love. Tonight is all about you.” Zoe shot me a triumphant smirk over his shoulder. I stared at the man before me, a stranger wearing my husband’s face. Just then, a crew member approached with a set of numbered paddles and a revolver. Zoe picked up a paddle, her movements light and airy. “I imagine Mrs. Lacy isn’t familiar with this little game, is she? It’s not your typical Russian Roulette. See, there’s only one bullet in the chamber, but you get a million dollars every time you pull the trigger on an empty slot. And there’s no limit to how many times you can play.” She purred, her eyes glinting. “I wonder just how much money Annie’s famous luck can make for Adrian tonight.” She lifted the paddle marked ‘6’ and kissed it. A revolver holds six rounds. Logically, if the first five shots were blanks, the sixth was a guaranteed kill. My daughter’s luck wasn’t an infinite shield. A chilling dread washed over me. I looked to Adrian, my eyes pleading, but he refused to meet my gaze. Zoe’s voice dripped with malice. “Tell you what, Mrs. Lacy. If you kneel down right now, slap your own face, and scream ‘I’m a homewrecker,’ I might just consider letting your daughter go.” Adrian said nothing. His silence was his consent. My eyes found my daughter, small and terrified on that wheel. I didn’t hesitate. The cold deck met my knees. Fearing Zoe would find some excuse to back out, I struck myself hard, the force splitting my lip. Blood filled my mouth. “I’m a homewrecker! I’m a homewrecker! I’m a homewrecker!” The whispers and stares of the other guests were a sharper pain than the sting on my cheek. In that moment, Zoe looked more like the lady of the house than I ever had. Zoe laughed, a bright, cruel sound. “To think the high and mighty Marissa Lacy could look so pathetic.” She paused, savoring the moment. “Fine. I forgive you.” A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. “I forgive you,” she continued, her smile widening, “but my son can never forgive Annie.” “So…” “I’ll bet one hundred million!” From heaven to hell in a single breath. A hundred million. One hundred pulls of the trigger. My Annie, my poor Annie… BANG! The deafening roar of the gun snapped me back to reality. A man in a black suit stood with the revolver, its barrel still smoking, pointed at my daughter. Annie was too scared to even cry anymore. “Adrian! Zoe! You’re monsters! Animals!” I thrashed against the guards holding me down, desperate to reach her. Zoe dissolved into tears, burying her face in Adrian’s chest like a frightened child. “Oh, darling, it’s so loud! I’m so scared!” Adrian’s face hardened into a granite mask. He snatched the gun from the crewman and, without a word, aimed it at Annie and fired five more times in quick succession. “NO! ANNIE!” I screamed, my eyes locked on her. She was still alive. By some impossible miracle, her luck had held. The sixth chamber had been empty. My vision swam with black spots. I gasped for air, my mind racing, searching for a way—any way—to save my child. “You’re so good to me, darling,” Zoe cooed, pressing a kiss to Adrian’s lips, her hands roaming over his chest. A flicker of raw lust crossed his face. He scooped her into his arms, ready to leave. But after two steps, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. “See that all one hundred shots are fired,” he commanded the crew. “I want to see just how lucky my daughter really is. Let’s find out if she’s really some kind of monster who feeds on the fortune of others.” Annie heard him. The light in her eyes, already dim, flickered and died. She understood. Her own father wanted her dead. Yet, she managed a weak, trembling smile for me. “Don’t cry, Mommy. Even if Annie dies, you have to keep living, okay?” She closed her eyes, surrendering to her fate. The cold-blooded executioner resumed his task. Click. The 7th shot. Click. The 8th. Click. The 9th… Each empty click was a hammer blow against my heart. But I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t let my daughter think I had abandoned her too. I begged them. I kowtowed until my forehead was bloody. I promised them fortunes. Finally, my pathetic, broken state earned me a sliver of pity from one of the crew. “Ma’am, the yacht is in international waters now. No one can stop this unless Mr. Lacy gives the order. We don’t want to end up as shark food.” I knew it was hopeless, but it was my only chance. Annie, hold on. Mommy will save you. My limbs felt like lead, but I crawled, inch by agonizing inch, to the top deck, to their suite. As I neared the door, I could hear the obscene sounds from within. “You’re such a little devil…” My daughter was facing a firing squad, and her father was indulging in his sordid pleasures. I beat on the door with my fists. “Adrian, I was wrong! I’ll sign the divorce papers! Just let Annie go! Please, you’re going to kill her!” The noises inside paused for a second. “What are you making a scene for? Annie’s not going to…” His voice was swallowed by the sickening, wet sounds that followed. “Adrian, darling,” I heard Zoe’s sultry whisper through the door. “Your wife is so desperate to see you, she’s even offering a divorce. It’s actually kind of thrilling, isn’t it? Your wife begging outside while your true love is in your arms.” Her words were answered by the rhythmic, brutal slam of bodies against the headboard. I threw my own body against the door, screaming apologies to Zoe, but my desperation only seemed to fuel their passion. The sounds from within grew louder, more frenzied. My despair was their stimulant. When I stumbled back to the lower deck, a crewman looked at me with a flicker of pity in his eyes. He told me they had just fired the 32nd shot. They had slowed down as much as they dared. Annie’s eyes had been closed, but she opened them when she heard my footsteps. A sad understanding dawned on her face. Tears welled in her eyes. “Mommy, being your daughter… that was the real luck. The best luck I ever had.” BANG! The 33rd shot. “Mommy, when I’m gone, you have to divorce him. I know you only stayed with him for me… but he’s not a good man.” BANG! BANG! The 34th and 35th. “I’m only seven… but these seven years with you, Mommy… they were the happiest.” BANG! The 36th. She seemed to sense it was coming. She glanced at the revolver, its barrel now glowing faintly red from the repeated firings. “Mommy.” “I want to go home.” “I love you.” “Next time… I want to be your little girl again.” BANG! The 37th shot. This time, Lady Luck turned away and wept for the child she could no longer protect. A single, deafening crack. I thought I would scream. I thought I would faint from the pain. But I did nothing. I felt nothing. It was as if my soul had been ripped from my body, leaving an empty, silent void. The long torture was over. They finally unstrapped Annie’s body from the wheel. My vision began to fade to black. The last thing I saw was a splash of crimson spreading across the floor as her small, limp body was laid on the cold deck. No one would ever call me ‘Mommy’ in that sweet voice again. The little girl who always said, “If you and Daddy divorce, I’ll choose you, Mommy,” was gone. The shock was too much. My world didn’t just go silent; it went dark. I had gone blind. I don’t know how long I stood there, or how I managed to carry Annie’s body back to our cabin, sightless. I carefully, fumblingly, wiped her clean and dressed her in her favorite dress. My Annie, always so neat, so beautiful. I avoided touching her head. I held her cooling, stiffening body in my arms. I held her for a long, long time. Then, a thought broke through the fog. “Divorce,” I murmured. “Go home. We have to go home.” My phone was gone. I found a crew member and had them print a copy of a divorce agreement for me. I felt the thin stack of papers. All this time, I refused to sign, wanting to give Annie a complete family. And that refusal had killed her. I would take my Annie home. I wanted nothing more to do with that disgusting animal. As for revenge… I bowed my head, and a cold plan began to form. A crew member led me back to Adrian’s suite. The door swung open just as we arrived. The cloying, acrid smell of sex rolled out in a wave. Even the crew member took a hasty step back. I didn’t need eyes to imagine the depravity that had taken place. Adrian’s voice, thick with satisfaction, floated out. “You know, your crying last night… it sounded so real. It was a real turn-on. And don’t worry, the gun was never loaded. It was just a show for Zoe.” His words ignited the dead embers of my heart into a raging inferno. I raised my hand and, guessing his position, swung with all my might. CRACK! The force of the blow sent a numbing jolt up my arm. “Adrian! Annie is dead! You killed her! Her own father killed her!” In my rage, I didn’t realize I had struck Zoe, who had been standing in the doorway. “Ma’am, I… I was just so heartbroken about my own son… I only wanted to scare her a little! I never meant to kill her!” Zoe wailed. Adrian’s hands closed around my throat, squeezing. “Do you really think I’d fall for such a pathetic act?” he snarled, his voice dangerously low. “There were no bullets in that gun. Zoe just wanted to give her son’s spirit some peace. Are you using our daughter to play games, to fight for my attention? Look at yourself! Have you no shame?” The more he spoke, the more convinced he became, any flicker of doubt extinguished by his own rage. “Tie her up,” he commanded his men. “And hang her off the back of the yacht. Let the sea cool her head.” A rope was crudely tied around me, and I was thrown into the deep, dark ocean. The icy shock of the water was so cold it felt like a thousand needles stabbing my skin. The yacht’s wake crashed over me again and again, dragging me under, choking me. Even as I clamped my mouth shut, the salty, bitter water forced its way down my throat. And in that moment of agony, a memory surfaced. Years ago, when I was learning to swim, I accidentally swallowed a mouthful of water. He had panicked, pulling me from the pool with tears in his eyes, forbidding me from ever trying again. But that memory, like the foam on the waves, was fragile and fleeting. It vanished instantly. He had murdered our daughter to please his mistress. And because I’d slapped her, he was now trying to drown me to appease her. My body temperature plummeted. Just as I felt the last of my consciousness slipping away, I was hauled back onto the deck. A crew member handed me a towel and a cup of hot water. “Mr. Lacy is putting on a fireworks display for Miss Zoe all night,” he said quietly. “A deMarissation of his love.” I felt nothing. If Adrian dropped dead in front of me right then, I might have laughed. I had them print a new divorce agreement and send it to him. I hadn’t even had the chance to get his signature before he’d had me thrown overboard. Once feeling returned to my limbs, I stumbled back to my cabin. I began speaking into the empty room, as if Annie were still there. “Annie, Mommy’s back. Sorry I took so long. You’re not mad at me, are you?” “Annie, I heard everything you said. As soon as he signs, we’ll get off at the next port. I’ll take you home.” My hands reached for the center of the bed where I’d left her. I froze. It was empty. Annie’s body was gone. A frantic, primal fear seized me. I tore the room apart before summoning the ship’s purser. The purser glanced around nervously, then lowered his voice. “Ma’am… Miss Zoe had your daughter’s body taken away a little while ago. She said… she said she was going to sell her organs to buy a few new handbags. I tried to call you, but I couldn’t get through.” I grabbed the wall to keep from collapsing. Of course he couldn’t reach me. At that moment, I was being dragged through the ocean by my own husband. Zoe wouldn’t even leave my daughter’s body in peace. The purser left me standing alone in the silent room. The thought of Annie’s small body being cut into pieces sent a wave of nausea through me. A hot, coppery taste filled my throat. “Well, if it isn’t the grieving Mrs. Lacy.” It was Zoe. She stepped close, taking my hand and placing it on the supple leather of a new designer bag. Her voice was as soft as silk, but her words were laced with venom. “Annie was worth quite a bit, you know. I was finally able to buy this limited edition piece. Paid in full.” She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. “This is your fault, Marissa. You wouldn’t sign the divorce papers. You’re a washed-up hag, but you just had to cling to Adrian, using your daughter as an excuse. So I had to get her out of the way. She was blocking my path to a life of luxury.” Her words were daggers, twisting in my heart, gutting me. What else did I have to fear? I had nothing left. I coughed, and a spray of blood splattered onto the floor. A strange lightness filled me, a surge of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated rage. I launched myself at her, my hands, my teeth, my nails becoming weapons. Her screams were music to my ears. “Give me back my Annie! GIVE HER BACK!” “Zoe!” Adrian rushed into the room. He yanked me off her and slapped me across the face. Zoe collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “Adrian, I was just worried about her! I came to see if she was okay, and she tried to kill me!” I stumbled, my hands flailing in the darkness. The purser caught my arm, steadying me. “Take me to Annie,” I begged him, my voice a broken whisper. “I’ll give you anything.” It was only then that Adrian noticed my vacant, unfocused eyes. He saw that I was blind. A thick, suffocating unease enveloped him. Why was Marissa suddenly blind? And where was Annie? “Darling,” Zoe whimpered, “is she going to start saying Annie’s dead again? I just saw her playing on the deck today.” Adrian shook the absurd, terrifying thought from his head. He pulled out the divorce papers, scrawled his name across the bottom, and threw them at me. “Keep up the act. Just keep it up. I have never seen such an unfit mother. You keep saying your daughter is dead, aren’t you afraid you’ll actually curse her to death?” “You are not worthy of being my wife!” He held Zoe and walked out. I made a phone call. I liquidated all my assets, my shares in his company, and made several other arrangements. I gave every last dollar, every piece of jewelry I owned, to the purser. In return, he gave me a small, heavy box. An urn. I stood on the deck, the signed divorce papers in one hand and the urn in the other. Adrian was hosting a grand banquet, so the deck was deserted. “Annie,” I whispered to the box, “Mommy is useless. I can’t take you home.” “Annie… next time, I’ll be your mommy again.” As a kaleidoscope of fireworks exploded across the night sky, I clutched the urn to my chest and stepped off the edge, into the cold, dark sea. Adrian Lacy, may we never meet again, in this life or the next.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386535”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel