My husband and I turned the entire house upside down looking for that new little toy we’d bought. It was nowhere to be found. My live stream was about to start, so I had to give up and head to my studio. But no sooner had I walked through the door than my phone buzzed with a notification from the toy’s app: 【Rolling Heatwave Mode has been activated.】 Did Ethan find it? I wondered. I shot him a video call, but he was still half-asleep, mumbling drowsily from our bed. I was too embarrassed to ask, so I just told myself it was probably a glitch with the toy. Shaking it off, I started my stream. But right when I was deep in a chat with my followers, my phone lit up again. Same app. 【Passion Burst Mode has been activated.】 My mind went into overdrive. I was here. My husband was asleep at home. So who was it? Who was using my things?! 1 A chill shot up my spine. My phone buzzed one last time: 【Your ‘Wicked Wanda’ is operating at high intensity. Battery level is critical at 7%.】 My mind flashed through all the blush-worthy pre-set modes. Was this a system bug, or… I ended the stream right then and there, floored the gas, and raced home. Was I really about to become the subject of the kind of gossip I usually just read about online? I burst into the bedroom. It was pitch black, and Ethan was still snoring peacefully. I immediately checked the entry log on our smart lock. No one had entered or left. My frayed nerves eased slightly. On the drive home, I’d already decided: if he had cheated on me, I’d kick him out on the spot. I calmed myself down and checked the toy’s app again. It showed the device was active within a six-foot radius of my phone. Six feet?! But I searched every inch of that area and found nothing. And there was no sign of anyone else having been in the house. I was so frustrated I wanted to smash my phone. I couldn’t sleep all night. The toy had been active just moments ago, so how could it have just vanished into thin air? The incident left me deeply unsettled. A few days later, I decided to surprise Ethan by coming home during my usual streaming time. He wasn’t there. I video-called him. He rejected it. A moment later, a text came through. 【Almost home, babe. I have a surprise for you.】 Sitting in the living room, my mind couldn’t help but replay that strange night. Anger simmered in my gut. When he got here, I was going to demand some answers. He walked in, saw me on the couch, and wrapped his arms around me. “Babe, what are you doing home so early?” I didn’t return the hug. “Where were you?” I asked, my voice flat. He chuckled and pulled a small card from his pocket with a flourish. “Surprise, honey! Happy?” In his hand was an autographed photo of my all-time favorite basketball player, Jaden Cross. I’d been so busy lately that I’d completely forgotten his team was in town for an exhibition game. I’d also forgotten it was my birthday. Seeing the signature, most of my anger melted away. I couldn’t believe he’d gone all the way to the game just for this. The tension broke, and my eyes instantly welled up with tears. I felt a pang of guilt for ever doubting him. I hugged him tightly, apologizing for my cold attitude. He stroked my hair. “A husband should always be there for his wife, support her career, and even stand in line for autographs for her.” A wave of pure joy washed over me. How could a man who loved me this much ever betray me? 2. The next few days were peaceful. But just in case, I set up a small security camera in the living room, telling Ethan it was to keep an eye on our dog, Mochi. Today, the broadcast of the game was released, and I posted a picture of the autographed photo on my social media. 【Finally got my idol’s autograph! A dream come true! So happy!】 The post drew a lot of comments and likes from basketball fans. Then, one comment was pushed to the top. 【You’re a fake fan. You bought that on eBay.】 I replied instantly: “I did not! And I’m not a fake fan!” I even posted photos of my ticket stubs from games I’d attended over the past ten years. The comment section turned into a warzone between my defenders and those accusing me of clout-chasing. A few minutes later, the same account posted a screenshot of a redacted eBay transaction, hammering the final nail in my coffin. The autograph sold by that eBay seller was identical to the one I was holding. Even the little doodle on the corner of the card was in the exact same spot. Suddenly, a horrible thought struck me. My heart sank. I immediately opened eBay, found the original seller, and messaged them for details. Ethan had bought it. And it wasn’t from the game that day. It was from a game in another city, an autograph the seller had gotten months ago. My anger flared. Why would Ethan lie to me? He never went to the game. So where was he that day? And who was he with? My followers were demanding an explanation. Fuming, I promised them I would get to the bottom of it. That evening, when Ethan came home, I confronted him, my face a grim mask. “Are you hiding something from me?” He looked at me with a weary expression. “You found out, huh? It’s about the autograph, isn’t it? Look, I bought it as a backup. I’ve been so swamped with work, I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to the pre-game signing. So I made a Plan B, and it’s a good thing I did, because I didn’t make it in time.” “You were busy until midnight?” The game ended at midnight. I didn’t believe he was working that late. Ethan pulled me into a hug, nuzzling my neck. “Thankfully, I made it for the second half.” He even showed me a video of himself at the arena with his friends. “We’re trying for a baby, remember? I’m just trying to work extra hard to save up for formula and diapers.” Seeing him so motivated for our future family, my expression softened. “You could have just told me the truth, honey. When I posted the photo, my fans accused me of being a fake. I could barely defend myself.” Ethan promised immediately, “It won’t happen again! I swear, babe.” He held me close and kissed me twice. Just then, Mochi trotted over, rubbing against my legs. But around his neck was a new bandana I’d never seen before. I stared at it, certain I hadn’t bought it. “Where did Mochi get this new bandana? I haven’t bought him one recently.” My tone was serious, and Ethan waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, probably a freebie from the groomer. I didn’t even notice.” His expression was perfectly natural. He yawned, said he was exhausted from overtime, and went to take a shower. I nodded, my face a placid mask. As he walked into the bedroom, the knot in my stomach tightened. I’d been taking Mochi to the same groomer for years. They never gave out free bandanas. And more importantly, caught in the fabric of this one was a single, long, reddish-brown curl. I touched my own short, dark hair. It definitely wasn’t mine. And in all the years we’d lived here, no one with reddish-brown hair had ever set foot in our apartment. There were too many strange things about Ethan lately. My intuition was screaming at me. He was lying.

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On the first day of high school registration, I was filling out my personal information when I happened to glance at the form on top of the pile. Name: Zoe. Father: Keith. Occupation: Director, Apex Industries. I froze. I pulled out a photo on my phone—our family of three standing in front of the Apex Industries headquarters—and compared the names again and again. My dad is Keith. Apex Industries is my grandfather’s company. If Zoe was my dad’s daughter, then who was I? I immediately dialed my dad’s number. “Dad,” I began, my voice tight, “is there something you’re hiding from me?” There was a pause on the other end, then his voice returned, breezy and cheerful. “What could I possibly hide from you, sweetheart? Just focus on your first day. I’ll bring you a treat when I get home from my meeting.” I forced a smile into my voice, and after hanging up, I immediately went to find the mother and daughter who had just left. I caught up with them at a turn in the hallway. 1 The taller one was the mother, maybe in her mid-thirties, with a cascade of brown, wavy hair. The shorter one was the girl, Zoe, thin and with her mother’s eyes. But the rest of her features—her nose, her chin, the shape of her face—were a near-perfect mirror of my father’s. My heart plummeted. I stepped in front of them, blocking their path. “How old are you?” I asked the girl, my voice raspy. She looked startled. Before she could answer, her mother went into a full-blown panic. Her face turned chalky white, and her hands began to tremble as if she’d just seen a monster. “Zoe, you… you go on back to class. I need to have a word with this student.” Zoe gave me a final, curious glance and walked away. The woman let out a shaky breath, her eyes darting nervously. “You…” “I saw your daughter’s registration form,” I said, my voice flat. “The teacher mentioned her father is a director at Apex Industries. I was just curious.” I didn’t wait for a response. “When did you meet my father?” Right there, in the busy school hallway, I laid my cards on the table. The woman’s hands, which had been hanging loosely at her sides, clenched into tight fists. She shot a panicked look around, then forced a brittle smile. “Oh, that. My daughter is from a single-parent home. I was afraid she’d be sad, so I just… made up a name to comfort her.” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Someone that important? How could I possibly know someone like that?” As she spoke, she casually brushed a stray curl from her face, a deliberate gesture that flashed a massive, seven-carat pink diamond on her left hand. My mother loves pink diamonds. Last year, a seven-carat ring exactly like that one was auctioned at Sotheby’s, right around her birthday. I had reminded my dad about it a month in advance, begging him to get it for her. I even helped him keep it a secret, planning a huge surprise. But on her birthday, the gift my dad presented was a cheap knockoff from Amazon, something that cost less than twenty dollars. He told me his flight had been delayed and he’d missed the auction. He promised he’d buy her something even better when he had the time, but for now, this fake one would have to do, so she wouldn’t be disappointed. It turned out he hadn’t missed the auction at all. He had just given the real diamond to someone else. The real one went to his mistress. The fake was for my mom. A wave of pure hatred washed over me. I met the woman’s challenging gaze, a cold smile touching my lips. “That’s a beautiful diamond, ma’am. Where did you get it?” I let the question hang in the air for a beat. “My mother has one just like it.” The woman—Lynn, I would later learn—had clearly not expected me to recognize it. The color drained from her face. She snatched her hand back, hiding it behind her. “What… what diamond? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I have to go, I have things to do at home.” “And by the way,” she added, her voice a desperate whisper, “don’t mention any of this to your family. We wouldn’t want any misunderstandings.” She pushed past me and practically fled, her hurried retreat looking suspiciously like a getaway. Pathetic. The word echoed in my mind. I didn’t watch her go. I pulled out my phone and called our driver. “Come pick me up.” His voice was surprised. “Miss Chloe? It’s your first day of school. Aren’t you staying for classes?” My eyes dropped to my phone as I typed a quick message to my grandfather’s assistant, Daniel, asking him to pull every record of my father’s unusual activities for the past seventeen years. My voice was unnervingly calm. “No. I’m going home to deal with a family matter.” 2. When I got home, my mother was in the kitchen brewing a fragrant herbal remedy. My father suffered from hereditary arthritis, and the change of seasons brought him nights of agonizing pain. My mother, worried sick about him, had spent the last seventeen years traveling the country, consulting specialists, and learning to prepare these complex treatments. Seventeen years. In three more years, they would have celebrated their twentieth anniversary. And now, I had just discovered that for almost the entirety of that time, my father had been cheating on her. My eyes stung. I walked up quietly behind my mother. She was forty-two this year. Her figure was immaculate, her skin smooth and glowing—the picture of a woman who had lived a life of ease. But her hands told a different story. Her nails were stained yellow from the herbs, her palms were calloused, and the backs of her hands were dotted with the faint, silvery scars from countless small burns. All from preparing my father’s medicine. A tear splashed onto the floor. Before I could say anything, she turned around. “Chloe, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” she asked, her face etched with concern. She immediately started wiping my tears away. “Did someone bully you at school? I’m calling your father right now…” “Don’t tell him!” I shouted. Meeting her shocked and worried eyes, my own trembled. I forced the words from my throat. “Dad… he’s cheating.” “The woman’s name is Lynn. She was a student he used to sponsor.” Like an automaton, I pulled the file Daniel had sent me from my bag and laid out the pages for her to see. “They first met eight days after your wedding. He gave a lecture at her university. That night… they slept together.” “When you were three weeks pregnant, Dad bought an apartment across the street from our house. The deed is in her name.” “While you were suffering from morning sickness so severe you couldn’t eat, he was across the street, eating home-cooked meals she made for him. While your legs were swollen in your third trimester, keeping you awake all night, he was in her bed with her.” “Even when you were giving birth to me, when you were hemorrhaging on the operating table, he was texting her, reminding her to eat on time so she wouldn’t hurt the baby in her belly.” “Mom, can you believe it? While you were pregnant with me, she was pregnant too. That illegitimate daughter… she’s only eight months younger than me.” I wanted to laugh, but tears just kept falling, splashing onto the documents. My mother stood frozen, her lips trembling uncontrollably. “How… how is that possible? Your father and I have been married for seventeen years. You’re all grown up. He couldn’t possibly…” I reached out and wiped her tears away, my own voice hollow. “Mom, do you remember when Dad took me to the amusement park when I was little and almost lost me?” She nodded, her red-rimmed eyes clouded with memory. “Of course, I remember. Your grandmother was in the hospital, and I was with her. Your father said he’d take you to the park for the day, and the next thing I knew, you were gone. He was beside himself with guilt, just sitting on a bench outside the park, crying. He said if he couldn’t find you, he didn’t want to live.” “When the park staff finally found you, he was so relieved and terrified. For the next month, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. He even stopped going to work, just to stay with you.” “That was when I knew,” she whispered, her voice choked with a sob, “that your father truly loved you. I knew I hadn’t married the wrong man.” I flipped to the next page in the file. “What if I told you it wasn’t an accident?” “What if I told you that Dad deliberately tied my balloon string to a railing so he could go on the Ferris wheel with her?” “He thought a simple string was enough to keep a five-year-old from wandering off. He didn’t care that the park was crawling with kidnappers back then.” “And I wasn’t found by the staff, Mom. I was rescued by the police from the back of a kidnapper’s van.” “What?” My mother stared at me, her face a mask of horror. “I was only five. I was so traumatized that I developed temporary amnesia about the event.” “You think he stayed by my side because he loved me? No. He was afraid I would remember and expose him. He was afraid of losing Grandfather’s support.” The words hung in the air, and I finally broke. I threw my arms around my mother and sobbed. I was angry—furious that my father had cheated, that he had lived a lie for seventeen years. I was hurt—devastated to learn that the father I had loved for sixteen years had never really loved me at all. And my heart ached. It ached for me, and it ached for my mother. After what felt like an eternity, my phone vibrated. It was a group message for my new class. 【As per school tradition, there will be a mandatory parent-teacher conference for all new students this evening. Please inform your parents.】 One by one, students replied with “Got it.” Then, I saw someone tag Zoe. 【Zoe, is your mom coming again tonight? I’ve still never met your dad.】 The person who sent it must have been an old classmate of hers. Zoe didn’t reply. But just then, a message from my father popped up on my phone. 【Chloe, didn’t you want to go to that concert? I got you tickets for tonight. Two of them, so you and your mom can go together.】 My blood ran cold. I typed back: 【The school just announced a mandatory parent-teacher conference tonight. We can’t go.】 He replied instantly, without hesitation. 【A conference is just a formality, it’s not important. You miss this concert, and who knows when they’ll tour again.】 【Be a good girl and listen to your dad. Go to the concert. I’ll talk to your teacher for you.】 The chill in my heart deepened. My fingers trembled as I typed my reply. 【Okay. I’ll listen to you.】 The moment my message sent, Zoe replied happily in the class group chat: 【Both my mom and dad are coming tonight.】 【Awesome! I finally get to see what your dad looks like.】 Staring at the cheerful exchange, my mother and I looked at each other, and a slow, cold smile spread across my face. “Mom,” I said, “for tonight’s conference, bring Grandfather. We’re all going.” I was dying to see the look on my father’s face when he saw us there.

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The day I learned I was pregnant, my husband Peter announced he was moving his late comrade’s widow onto the military base, leaving me to care for his aging mother. He insisted it was perfect—I, a former nurse’s aide, could quit my job and tend to his mother. Once the baby came, we’d join him. But two months later, his paychecks stopped. I told myself he was sacrificing for our future, so I stayed silent even as we starved. Four years later, I returned home after selling a kidney in the city, only to learn the truth from a neighbor: his mother had been killed by a wild boar while foraging, and my son died of fever without medicine I couldn’t afford. At the funerals, Peter didn’t mourn—he blamed me, called me useless, and demanded a divorce. Soon after, he married the widow. She managed his money now, living comfortably off-base while eating pork chops and rice. My life ended the night she had a healthy son. But when I opened my eyes, I was back—three days before my son and his grandmother were fated to die. This time, I wouldn’t sell a kidney. This time, I’d take them straight to Peter and reclaim everything that was stolen. 1 “Mom, I have to find Peter. Only the army has the medicine. Only he can save Leo.” My mother-in-law’s eyes were hollowed out by hunger, her gaze sweeping over the barren walls of our crumbling, dirt-floor cottage. Tears welled. “Alright,” she whispered. “I’ll do whatever you say.” I took the last of Peter’s things—his old army canteen and the one sturdy stool we had left—to the market. I traded them for ten pounds of sweet potatoes and a small bag of cornmeal. Back home, I cooked a thick, warm porridge. It was the most filling meal we’d had since the food ran out. After we ate, I settled my mother-in-law and my son onto a rickety handcart and started pushing them toward Peter’s base. We asked for directions to Fort Sterling as we went. I was stunned to learn it was barely thirty miles away. Closer than the city I’d been planning to travel to. And still, in all these years, he hadn’t come home to see us even once. When we finally arrived, the guard at the gate handed me a pen and a visitor log. As I prepared to write “Wife” in the relationship column, Peter himself appeared in the doorway. His features were sharper, more defined than I remembered. He was more handsome, more imposing in his uniform. His eyes swept over our ragged forms, and his expression shifted from shock to pure, unadulterated embarrassment. “Elara… What are you doing here?” He quickly pulled us aside, out of the main thoroughfare, before muttering a quiet, “Mom.” His gaze fell on our son. “Is this… my boy?” I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and nodded sharply. “Leo, say ‘Daddy.’” My son’s cheeks were flushed with fever, his body weak and frail. But seeing his father for the first time, his eyes lit up. He stretched out his tiny arms. “Da…” Before the second syllable could escape his lips, Peter clamped a hand over his mouth, his voice a harsh whisper. “Don’t you dare call me Dad here. Do you understand?” Leo flinched, terrified. His little lip trembled, and he burrowed his face into my side. My mother-in-law looked at Peter, her face a mask of confusion and hurt. I bit my lip, my fists clenching at my sides. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. “Peter, Leo is sick. I have no money for his medicine. You have to help him!” He looked baffled. “What do you mean, no money? Didn’t I send you—” Just then, a vintage-style army jeep pulled up. Peter snapped to attention, his back ramrod straight as he delivered a sharp salute. “Good afternoon, General!” The window rolled down, revealing the kind, weathered face of an older man. “Captain,” the General said, his eyes landing on us. “And who are these folks?” Peter hesitated for a fraction of a second before his voice boomed with false confidence. “Report, sir! This is just my housekeeper’s family. They’re visiting for a few days.” The General smiled, told him to be a good host, and drove on. Peter let out a quiet breath of relief and hurried us through the gate. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but his tone was devoid of any real sympathy. “Elara, this is reckless. You can’t just show up like this without any warning, dragging Mom and the boy all this way.” He lowered his voice. “I’m up for a promotion. I’m this close to making Major. You can’t cause trouble for me now.” My mother-in-law weakly smacked his arm with the walking stick she leaned on. Tears streamed down her face. “Son, you could be a general, and you’d still be Elara’s husband. She has suffered so much taking care of me and this child all these years, and you never even came home to see her.” Her voice broke. “How could you call her a housekeeper? How could you forbid your own son from calling you ‘Daddy’?” Sensing he’d gone too far, Peter softened his tone. “Mom, it hasn’t been easy for me, either, getting to where I am. Everything I do is for this family, isn’t it?” I didn’t want to argue. I just wanted the medicine for Leo. Soon we arrived at his quarters. He knocked on the door, a sudden, cheerful lilt in his voice. “Scarlett, open up! I’m home.” “Coming, coming!” a light, musical voice replied, followed by the sound of quick footsteps. The door swung open. The moment the woman—Scarlett—saw me, her bright smile vanished, replaced by a thunderous scowl. 2 Scarlett was wearing a well-tailored floral dress. Her makeup was perfect, her hair styled, and a light, pleasant fragrance drifted from her. And then there was me. My own dress was a patchwork of faded fabric and mended holes. My face was a constellation of sunspots from years of laboring under the sun. Scarlett feigned surprise. “Peter, is this… Elara?” The disgust in her voice was a physical thing, thick and suffocating. I locked eyes with Peter, my voice ice. “Why is she living with you?” Seeing someone walking down the hall, Peter’s eyes darted nervously. He shoved us inside the room, his movements clumsy with panic. Scarlett rushed to explain, her voice a placating coo. “Elara, please don’t misunderstand. Peter and I are living together, but it’s completely innocent. He was just taking pity on me and my daughter, a widow and her fatherless child. We’re just looking out for each other.” A fatherless child? Just then, a little girl, about Leo’s age, ran out and threw her arms around Peter’s legs, whining playfully. “Daddy, you’re so late! Molly is hungry. Mommy made pork ribs today, and they smell so good!” Seeing the thunderstruck expressions on my face and my mother-in-law’s, Peter quickly tried to explain. “Mom, Elara, don’t get the wrong idea. Molly isn’t my child with Scarlett. Scarlett was already pregnant when she came to the base. Molly is my fallen comrade’s daughter.” He sighed. “She’s just a little girl, she doesn’t understand. She sees all the other kids have fathers, so she started calling me ‘Daddy.’” So that was it. He wouldn’t let his own son call him ‘Daddy’ because he was too busy playing that role for another man’s child. He was raising someone else’s daughter to be healthy and bright, feeding her rice and pork ribs every day, while his own son, who hadn’t tasted meat in his life, was wasting away, on the brink of death. A white-hot rage surged through me. Noticing my stare fixed on the girl, Peter instinctively scooped her up, positioning himself in front of Scarlett as if to shield them both. “Elara, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Leave the child out of it.” The sight of him protecting Scarlett, protecting her child, sent a chill down my spine. The scene suddenly overlapped with a memory from my past life. In that life, he had brought a black-clad Scarlett home, announcing she would be moving to the base with him. Her husband, he’d explained, had died saving his life on a mission. His dying wish was for Peter to look after his new bride. He’d told me that since I was pregnant, the long journey would be too hard. He wanted me to stay behind with his mother. He swore on his life that he would come for us as soon as the baby was born. I believed him. I never imagined that wait would end in ruin and death for my family. And for him? He got the girl, the career, and a life of success built on our graves. And here he was now, holding another man’s daughter, refusing to even touch his own flesh and blood. “Alright, you’re here now,” Peter said, breaking the tense silence. “Let’s just eat. Scarlett, set three more places.” On the table was a platter of fragrant, steaming pork ribs and a large bowl of fluffy white rice—luxuries my son had never known. The aroma made my mouth water. Even my mother-in-law couldn’t help but swallow hard, her eyes glued to the food. Scarlett didn’t say a word, but the contempt pouring from her was unmistakable. She sullenly placed three bowls of rice on the table for us, then one for Peter. For herself and Molly, she set out empty bowls filled only with water. She then invited everyone to eat, her voice dripping with false sweetness. It had taken us a full day to find Peter. We hadn’t had a drop of water or a crumb of food. We were starving. We shoveled the rice into our mouths. My son, Leo, gave up on his chopsticks and grabbed two ribs with his bare hands. Peter watched us, a look of revulsion on his face. “Slow down. No one’s going to take it from you.” We were country folk, and our table manners were rough when we were hungry. But I had always taught my family to be considerate, to only take food from the part of the dish closest to them. Every dish, we only touched one side. Suddenly, Scarlett’s daughter, Molly, started banging her empty bowl with her chopsticks, wailing loudly. “I want to eat! I want pork ribs! Molly’s hungry!” Only then did Peter seem to notice their empty bowls. His brow furrowed. “Why aren’t you two eating?” Scarlett’s face paled. She forced a smile. “There wasn’t any rice left after I served you all. You eat. Molly and I can just have some water.” Peter looked heartbroken. He started to push his own bowl toward them. Scarlett stopped him. “No, you work so hard. You need your strength. I’m just sitting around all day, I can miss a meal. It’s just… Molly…” Her voice trailed off. She put on a brave face and picked up her daughter. “I’ll take Molly to the field to see the outdoor movie. That’ll distract her. You finish your dinner, don’t worry about us.” After finishing his two ribs, my son dutifully stopped himself from taking another. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with curiosity. “Mommy, what’s an outdoor movie? Can Leo see it too?” Scarlett’s body went rigid. Peter’s face flushed with shame. Scarlett turned and walked away, stopping at the door to spray Molly with bug repellent. Peter was silent for a long moment. Finally, he looked at me, his expression strained. “Elara,” he said, his voice tight. “When… when are you planning on heading back?” 3 I met his gaze head-on. “We’re not. We’re moving in.” “What? Not leaving?” Peter’s eyes shot toward the door. Just outside, Scarlett, holding Molly, had already started walking away. She let the door slam shut with a loud bang. He instinctively called out, “Scarlett!” When he turned back to me, his face was a dark mask. “Elara, don’t be ridiculous. I’m about to be promoted. I can’t have a single thing go wrong.” “You need to take Mom and Leo back home. Once I—” I slammed my chopsticks down, cutting him off. “Wait, wait, wait… Peter, have you forgotten every single promise you ever made?” My voice rose, shaking with fury. “You said you’d send for us after the baby was born! It’s been four years! We haven’t gotten so much as a letter. I thought you were dead!” He bristled, his own anger flaring. “Why are you talking like this now? So coarse. What happened to the educated woman I married?” I was already holding back. How could a few harsh words even begin to cover four years of misery and betrayal? “Peter, do you have any idea what our lives have been like for the past four years?” My voice trembled. “The first year, I was pregnant, managing everything inside and out. I was harvesting crops with a giant belly, and I nearly died giving birth!” “The second year, the drought hit. The crops failed. Your mother and I climbed the mountains every day, foraging for wild greens just to have something to eat. She got sick, and we couldn’t even afford a doctor!” “The third year, she got worse. I had to sell my blood to pay for her medicine.” “And now my son is sick. I can’t buy the medicine he needs. And the first thing you do when we get here is try to kick us out? Are you trying to kill us?” With every word I spoke, the color drained further from Peter’s face. “Wild greens? Selling blood? What happened to the money I sent every month?” I stared at him, incredulous. “What money? When did you ever send us money?” At that exact moment, Scarlett returned, holding Molly. She was drenched, her clothes clinging to her, making her look fragile and pitiful. She forced a weak smile. “It started raining. I hope you all finished eating. I’ll do the dishes.” Peter looked as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head. He grabbed her wrist. “Scarlett, what about the money I gave you every month to send to Elara? Why didn’t she receive it?” Tears instantly welled in Scarlett’s eyes. “Peter, I am so sorry,” she sobbed. “I failed Elara. I was pregnant then, and it was so hard to move… I kept meaning to send it, I was just going to wait a day or two.” “But then you got hurt during training, and you needed better food to recover, so I… I spent the money on that. And then I just… I forgot.” “It’s all my fault. I’m a terrible person. I’ll take Molly and leave right now. I won’t disturb your family reunion anymore.” The more I listened, the hotter my anger burned. I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Was it to help Peter recover, or to stuff your own face? Did you forget to send the money, or did you never intend to send it? Scarlett, you know the truth better than anyone!” Peter couldn’t stand hearing me speak to her like that. “Elara! Why can’t you just speak normally? Why do you have to be so aggressive?” “You’ve suffered, I get it, but has it been easy for Scarlett? She’s taken perfect care of me for years!” My head was buzzing, my entire body shaking with rage. “You bastard, Peter!” I screamed. “In what capacity has she been ‘taking care of you’? Don’t you dare tell me you’ve been living under the same roof for years and nothing has happened!” “You’ve kept her and her daughter plump and rosy while your own family starved! Open your damn eyes and look at your son! Look at your mother! Look at what they’ve become! This is all because of her!” Scarlett’s face crumpled. She swayed, looking like she was about to faint. Peter immediately caught her, pulling her into his arms. But she pushed him away dramatically, her voice a careful whisper. “Don’t touch me. I’m soaked. You’ll catch a chill.” She coughed delicately. “Molly is cold, too. I’ll give her some medicine and then we’ll go. Please, don’t fight because of me.” Her gentle, considerate act only made me look more like a hysterical, unreasonable shrew. Peter shot me a look of pure disgust before following Scarlett into her room. A moment later, they emerged. Peter was holding a first-aid box. As Scarlett opened it, my eyes locked on a small vial inside. In my past life, it was the very medicine I sold my kidney for and still couldn’t afford… 4 I snatched the vial from the box, my hands trembling with a desperate excitement. “Mom, this is it!” I cried. “This is the medicine that can save Leo!” The next second, Scarlett ripped it from my grasp. “No, you can’t have this!” she said, her voice sharp. She quickly softened it, blushing and lowering her gaze. “There’s a bad children’s virus going around. This is for Molly. They only issue one vial per family.” She caught herself, realizing her slip of the tongue. After the agony of losing my son in my past life, I would do anything to save him this time. “So you do know who the real family is,” I snarled. “Give me the medicine!” Scarlett looked at Peter, her eyes shimmering with tears. He turned on me, his voice a low growl. “That’s enough, Elara. It’s just one vial of medicine. I can request another one for you, can’t I?” “How long does a request take?” “Three days, tops.” Leo didn’t have three days. “No! My son is gravely ill. He can’t wait that long!” Peter’s face darkened. “Elara, are you just trying to pick a fight with me? It’s only three days. Why can’t he wait?” The cure was right there, in my hands. I couldn’t give up. If I had to fight for it, I would. I was done arguing. While Scarlett was distracted, I lunged forward and grabbed the vial. I twisted off the cap, ready to pour the life-saving liquid into my son’s mouth. But before a single drop could touch his lips, Peter seized my arm, yanking me back so hard I stumbled. He wrenched the vial from my hand, his eyes blazing with fury and disgust. “Elara! Have you no shame? Stealing what isn’t yours? Do you have any idea what a breach of discipline this is?” “I don’t know about discipline! I only know that if you won’t save our son, I will!” Peter’s face contorted with rage. “You’re putting on quite a show just to get back at me, aren’t you? I really underestimated you, Elara. You are a massive disappointment!” I ignored him, clawing at his hand, trying to get the medicine back. Leo, terrified, hid behind his grandmother, his small body wracked with silent sobs. My mother-in-law began hitting Peter with her wooden stick. “You ungrateful boy! Your grandson is truly sick! Give Elara the medicine!” But Peter was unmoved. “Mom, are you in on this act with her?” he spat. “She can’t stand that I’m good to Scarlett and Molly. She sees this medicine has the fanciest label and decides it’s some miracle cure she has to have. Is she a thief now?” “Elara, if you don’t stop this nonsense, don’t blame me for what happens next!” I was nearly mad with grief and rage, scratching and clawing at him wildly. “Peter, you monster, give me the medicine! Are you really going to let our son die? You call yourself a soldier, a protector of this country?” “ENOUGH!” Peter exploded. With a roar of fury, he hurled the vial to the ground. It shattered, sending shards of glass and precious medicine flying across the floor. “Get out,” he seethed. “Get out of my house right now!” “We have no place for a lunatic like you here!” Staring at the glittering fragments on the floor, my heart shattered with them. I don’t know where the strength came from, but a primal scream tore from my throat as I launched myself at him, hitting and kicking. I truly became the lunatic he called me. I shrieked curses I didn’t know I knew. I swept the television and radio—things I had only ever dreamed of seeing—off their shelves. I turned their cozy little home into a wasteland of broken things. The commotion was so loud it finally brought the base commander and neighbors from upstairs and downstairs running. A sharp knock sounded at the door. Panic flared in Peter’s eyes. He grabbed me, pinning my flailing arms, his voice suddenly dropping to a desperate, pleading whisper. “Elara, Elara, please, calm down. Don’t let everyone see this. I’m up for promotion, I can’t have a scandal.” “I’m sorry, okay? Can we just stop this?” But I shoved him away. And under his horrified gaze, I wrenched the door open.

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To marry into the Levitan fortune, I fabricated my entire past. The day my lies were exposed, I sliced open my wrist. “If you divorce me,” I told Chris Levitan, my voice shaking, “I’ll die right here.” A cruel, mocking smile touched his lips. “You want the title of Mrs. Levitan that badly? Fine. You can have it. I hope you don’t live to regret it.” That move saved my marriage, but it made me the laughingstock of the city’s elite. From that day on, Chris treated me as if I were invisible. His affairs were constant tabloid fodder. He brought women home, brazenly, and once, he made me kneel outside his bedroom door while he was with one of them. “You’re so obsessed with status,” he’d sneered, his voice muffled through the wood. “You clawed your way into this family with cheap tricks. So now you’re going to watch and learn how a real woman pleases me.” That night, I knelt on the cold marble floor and listened to them, again and again. Later, he tossed a used condom at my face. “You truly are pathetic. You’d do anything to keep your title.” His voice was laced with contempt. “Now, I’m out. Go buy me more.” I did as he asked, even thoughtfully purchasing a variety of styles. This continued for five years. Until the day Chris walked in with a college girl on his arm and ordered me to dress her for a gala. That was when I calmly presented him with a set of divorce papers. “Let’s end this.” Five years. I had fulfilled my promise. It was time to leave. … “Claire, this is Tiffany. I’m taking her to the gala tonight. I need you to find her a gown.” Chris’s voice was clipped and dismissive. “And get my mother’s sapphire necklace. It’s a gift for Tiffany.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. The sapphire necklace was the most cherished piece of his late mother’s collection. Chris treasured it. Other women he’d been with had admired it, begged to even try it on, but he’d never allowed anyone to so much as touch it. And now he was giving it away to this girl. This one, he must truly adore. I stood frozen. Tiffany broke the silence. “Mr. Levitan,” she purred, looking me up and down, “is your maid always this slow? You gave her an order, and she hasn’t even moved.” I met her gaze. Her eyes danced with malice. She knew exactly who I was. This was a deliberate provocation. As expected, Chris’s face darkened. The back of his hand cracked across my cheek. “Do you have a problem with that? Look at yourself. What’s the difference between you and a maid? Now go get the jewelry. If you make me late, how exactly will you compensate me?” Tiffany gasped, covering her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand, her expression a caricature of innocent shock. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I had no idea you were Mrs. Levitan. It’s just… your clothes… you look so much like the help.” I glanced down at my simple housedress and apron. She wasn’t wrong. Tiffany then shot a playful, chiding look at Chris. “Darling, you shouldn’t have done that. Making your wife work for me? I’m just your humble assistant.” She leaned in, tracing a finger along his lapel. “Look, you’ve bruised her cheek. Be careful, she might get angry with you.” Chris laughed as if it were the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Her? Get angry?” He sneered at me. “A woman who built her life on a mountain of lies? A woman who had to resort to threats and hysterics just to stay here? She has no pride. She does whatever I tell her to do.” His fingers, cold as ice, clamped onto my chin, forcing my head up. “Isn’t that right, Claire?” This time, however, I was going to disappoint him. I held out the papers I’d prepared long ago. My voice was even, devoid of emotion. “I want a divorce, Chris.” He stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing, his face a mask of derision. “After five years of playing the pathetic lapdog, you’ve realized that act doesn’t work on me? So you’re trying a new strategy?” He leaned closer, his voice a low threat. “Are you out of your mind, Claire? Trying to manipulate me with this? You’re playing with fire. You’ll just end up on your knees, begging me to take you back.” “Now, go get the gown and the necklace, and attend to Tiffany properly. If you do, I’ll pretend this little outburst never happened. Otherwise, you know I won’t be so forgiving.” I sighed. “I am serious, Chris. I want a divorce. This isn’t a game.” I pushed the papers toward him again. “Just sign them, and I’ll be gone.” Tiffany’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Oh, darling, she really is upset,” she whimpered, clinging to his arm. “Look how convincing she is.” “I shouldn’t go to the gala with you tonight. You should take your wife. Then maybe she’ll stop this little drama.” Chris’s face hardened. He slapped me again, harder this time. Then, right in front of me, he ripped the divorce papers to shreds and threw the pieces in my face. “So that’s what this is about. You want to go to the gala with me.” His eyes raked over me with disgust. “Have you looked in a mirror? Taking you to a black-tie event? Do you want to embarrass me even more than you already have?” “Claire, know your place. Someone like you belongs in this house, as a maid. Don’t you dare dream of anything more.” “I don’t want to go with you, I just…” “Enough!” he roared, cutting me off. “You’re caught in your own pathetic little scheme and you still won’t admit it. God, I’ve never met a woman as shameless as you.” “After the stunts you pulled to stay here, after five years of groveling, you expect me to believe you actually want a divorce? That’s hilarious.” He turned, wrapping a tender arm around Tiffany. “I’ll buy you a new gown, darling. The most beautiful one in the city. I only want you by my side tonight. As for everyone else,” he shot a venomous look at me, “they’re only fit to shine your shoes.” Tiffany buried her face in his shoulder, her voice a faux-shy whisper. “Don’t say that, Chris. You’ll break your wife’s heart.” He scoffed. “Like I care.” As they left, Tiffany glanced back at me, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Levitan,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I’ll take very good care of your husband.” After they were gone, I shook my head and started packing. My phone rang. “Ms. Hayes? It’s Adrian Cole. We need to iron out a few final details on the collaboration we discussed. I’m at the grand ballroom at The Regis Hotel right now. Would you be able to meet me?” Adrian was a crucial business partner. I immediately dropped the suitcase. “Of course, Mr. Cole. I’m on my way.” When I arrived at the ballroom, dressed in haute couture, the first person I saw was Chris. His back was to me, his arm around Tiffany’s waist as he chatted with a group of friends. “Chris, you’ve got good taste this time,” one of them was saying. “How long are you planning to play with this one?” Chris leaned in and placed a tender kiss on Tiffany’s forehead. “Tiffany is the love of my life. She’s not like the others. I’m going to love her forever.” He shot his friends a warning look. “Don’t joke like that again, or you’ll regret it.” “So what about the ball and chain at home?” another friend asked. “She put up with your flings before because she knew they were just games. What do you think she’ll do when she finds out this one is serious? A woman that obsessed with you might do something crazy.” Chris’s tone was pure contempt. “What could that pathetic doormat possibly do? You all know the truth. As long as I let her stay, she’d kneel at our bedside and serve us if I asked her to.” “Haha, you’ve got her wrapped around your finger, Levitan. You don’t see that kind of devotion these days.” I had grown numb to words like these. I was about to turn and walk away when Chris turned around. For a split second, I panicked, bracing for a confrontation. But his eyes slid right past me, not a flicker of recognition in them. “Marcus, I’ve been waiting for you,” he said to one of the men. “You said you had a VIP you wanted me to meet.” I almost laughed. I looked down at my silk gown, the delicate jewelry, the professional makeup. Of course he didn’t recognize me. How could he possibly connect the glamorous woman standing before him with the drab, weary housekeeper he left at home? I walked away and found Adrian. We immediately dove into the details of our contract. “Ms. Hayes, I have the utmost respect for your talent,” Adrian said earnestly. “It’s a shame you’re unwilling to move abroad. We could be doing so much more together.” He sighed. “The international market desperately needs an expert with your deep knowledge of traditional silk brocade. With you leading the charge, Chinese artistry could become the next global luxury standard.” Adrian had invited me to expand internationally many times, to share the beauty of our craft with the world. I had always refused, tethered to my life with Chris. But my time was up. Now, I could finally chase my own dreams. “Actually, I’m planning to move abroad now,” I said, a new sense of resolve hardening my voice. “The beauty of our brocade needs to be understood not just by our own people, but by the world. I want to see it take its rightful place among the great luxury houses.” Adrian’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Are you serious? But you always said you wouldn’t leave the country.” “I had some unfinished business here,” I replied. “But it’s been settled. I’m ready to take our brand global.” “That’s fantastic! I…” Adrian was cut off by another voice. “Well, well, Adrian. I was wondering where you’d disappeared to. Scheming with a beautiful woman, I see.” A cool look passed over Adrian’s face. “Marcus, this is Ms. Hayes, my esteemed business partner.” I recognized the man as one of the friends Chris had been talking to. Realizing his blunder, Marcus quickly apologized. “My apologies, Ms. Hayes. That was out of line.” Then he turned to Adrian. “Speaking of which, Chris Levitan has been dying to meet you. Since you’re both here, let me make the introduction.” Chris approached, his demeanor now humble and professional. “Mr. Cole, a pleasure. I’ve heard great things. I also heard you’re looking for a designer specializing in traditional textiles. Coincidentally, Tiffany here is a graduate of that very program. She has an exceptional portfolio I’d love for you to see. I’m sure a collaboration would be fruitful.” Tiffany feigned a gasp of delighted surprise. “You’re the Adrian Cole? I’ve admired your work for years. It would be the honor of a lifetime to collaborate with you.” I had to hand it to her; her audacity was something to behold. She’d already promoted herself to collaborator before he’d even spoken a word to her. Adrian, though usually affable, had a very sharp edge. A cold, dismissive smirk crossed his face. “Who are you? And are you an idiot? When did I ever say I wanted to work with you? Don’t embarrass yourself.” Tiffany’s face flushed crimson, her eyes instantly brimming with tears. Seeing his new love humiliated, Chris bristled. “Mr. Cole, that’s an incredibly rude way to speak to her. Tiffany is a top graduate from a prestigious university. She expressed her admiration, and you insult her? That’s completely unprofessional.” Adrian rolled his eyes. “And I need her admiration because…? Are you serious?” Seeing that Adrian was not going to back down, Chris was about to lose his temper when Tiffany stopped him. She bowed her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s my fault. I was presumptuous. I was just so excited to meet Mr. Cole. Please, blame me. Don’t let this affect your relationship with Mr. Levitan.” “I don’t care for cheap theatrics,” Adrian said, his voice like ice. “And besides, I already have a designer. Ms. Hayes.”

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The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer was the day the tabloids exploded with pictures of Seraphina and him again. The heiress to the Shen Corporation, caught in yet another affair. The company stock plummeted overnight. The board members urged me to issue a clarification. The media demanded an immediate response. Just like all the countless times before. Seraphina’s call came through, her tone as arrogant and dismissive as ever. “I’m busy taking Leo to the theater. I don’t have time for this nonsense. You handle it. You’re used to it, anyway.” Her voice dropped, cold and sharp. “And the same rule applies. If you dare say a single bad word about him, bankruptcy will be the least of the Wen family’s problems.” This time, I didn’t scream or argue. I just stared at the two funeral urns on my desk and said softly, “I know.” I told the PR department to schedule a press conference. Then I tore up the speech they had prepared for me. They say that when people are dying, they make a list of wishes to fulfill so they can leave with no regrets. I only have one. To divorce Seraphina Shen. … The press conference had barely ended when Seraphina’s furious call came. “I told you to deny the rumors! Who gave you permission to mention divorce?” Her voice was shrill. “That’s no different from publicly declaring that Leo is a homewrecker!” I paused, a sense of bitter absurdity washing over me. How could I have imagined, for even a second, that her panic was because our marriage was ending? I pressed a hand to my aching stomach and spoke quietly. “I just thought… since you love him so much, you should give him the title he deserves.” “This position was never truly mine anyway. I’m just returning it to its rightful owner.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by a scornful laugh. “Do you really think Leo is as selfish and grasping as you are? He only cares about me.” Her voice turned venomous. “Adrian Wen, don’t you dare think that playing the magnanimous victim will make me soften up and sign those papers. It’s not that easy.” “Since you stole this position, you can sit on your stolen throne and weep. Unless I get tired of playing with you, don’t even think about escaping.” The line went dead. She must have been disappointed not to see the familiar look of humiliated endurance on my face. The video of me announcing our divorce was scrubbed from the internet within the hour. It didn’t matter. I no longer had the time to play her twisted game of revenge. I didn’t even need her signature. When I arrived at the old family estate, Grandfather Shen was waiting for me in his study. He frowned when I told him my intention. “Adrian, I know you’ve been wronged these past few years,” he said, his voice gentle. “Seraphina is just being foolish for a time. Marriage is not a child’s game. You can’t throw it away out of spite. Besides, your parents…” I cut him off, shaking my head softly. “Grandfather, my parents are gone.” “Divorce was their dying wish. And… it’s mine, too.” I placed the two urns on his desk, next to the terminal cancer diagnosis. He stared at them, speechless, the color draining from his face. “Before I die, I just want a little peace. For the sake of the boy you watched grow up… please, help me.” Seraphina was the head of the Shen Corporation now, but I knew that this was a favor her grandfather could still grant. After a long, heavy silence, he sighed. “Go, then. The Shen family has failed you. That girl… she has utterly failed you.” He had watched both of us grow up. He had also watched me wither and fade away within this marriage. As I was leaving, he called out to me, his eyes filled with a deep, aching sorrow. “Adrian, wherever you go, you must tell your grandfather. When that day comes… I will be there to see you off.” A sharp sting filled my nose. I wiped my eyes and managed a small, smiling nod. After laying my parents to rest, I packed up all of my belongings from the house, intending to donate them. The marriage certificate fell to the floor. In the photo, Seraphina was nestled against me, her eyes curved into crescents, full of love. Five years. Now, that same face only held disgust for me. Sometimes, I couldn’t understand it myself. I’d always been sharp, discerning. How had I so completely misread everything? If I had just asked one more question, perhaps this wouldn’t be the end. But I suppose I was greedy. For as long as I could remember, Seraphina Shen was the brightest star in our city’s elite social circle. Beautiful, brilliant, effortlessly capable, she radiated an aura of untouchable grace. Everywhere she went, she was surrounded by admirers. Compared to the other heirs, I was quiet and awkward, an introverted loner who preferred solitude to parties. I could only ever steal glances at her over the top of a book from across a crowded ballroom. Then, when we were twenty-two, an earthquake struck while she was at the theater. The building collapsed. She was injured and fell into a coma. I was her attending physician. Thankfully, her injuries weren’t severe, though she had lost her memory of the moments just before the accident. When she woke up, the first person she saw was me. She threw her arms around me, her voice trembling. “You saved me, didn’t you? I would have died without you…” I was stunned, completely at a loss. I mumbled that it wasn’t that dramatic, that I was just doing my job. But the next day, Seraphina announced to the world that she was going to marry me. She, who was notoriously difficult to get a meeting with, now wanted to see me constantly. She, who hated waiting and waking up early, now drove me to and from the hospital every day, preparing elaborate meals. We went skiing in the Alps and saw the Northern Lights in Iceland. She personally flew to Switzerland and spent a fortune on a raw pink diamond, then spent months designing my engagement ring herself. My secret, hopeless crush had been returned in the most spectacular way imaginable. I felt like I was living in a dream. Our families had always intended for us to unite in a business alliance. Our mutual affection made it perfect. We had a lavish wedding and became the golden couple of the city’s high society. Every time she looked at me with that deep, unwavering love, I felt like the luckiest man alive. But dreams always end. On our second anniversary, my friends booked a hotel suite for us to celebrate. Seraphina arrived late, her face a thunderous mask. When everyone cheered for us to link arms and drink, she didn’t move. I squeezed her hand. “What’s wrong?” The next second, she ripped her hand away. The red wine in her glass arced through the air, splashing across my face. “Adrian Wen,” she spat, her voice colder than the chilled wine, her eyes filled with scorn and loathing. “How does it feel? Sitting on a throne you stole? What right do you have to celebrate anything?” Amid my friends’ gasps, I felt a sharp, stinging pain. My eyes swelled so much I could barely see. My suit was ruined. I stared at her, lost and confused. She knew I was allergic to alcohol. How could she have forgotten? But there was no remorse in her eyes. She threw a stack of photos at my face. “The person who saved me at the theater wasn’t you. Was it fun, playing me for a fool? You’re truly shameless, willing to do anything to secure your family’s interests.” Her voice was venomous. “If you hadn’t stolen the credit and made me mistake you for him, Leo wouldn’t have missed the window for his surgery! He wouldn’t be in a wheelchair right now because he couldn’t afford it!” “So what if you’re having a reaction? You deserve to have your face rot off!” I stared dumbly at the photos of the delicate, handsome boy in the wheelchair. A horrifying realization began to dawn. I had gotten something terribly, terribly wrong. I was in the hospital for two days. Seraphina never came. A private investigator gave me the full story. On the day of the collapse, a massive crystal chandelier had broken free, plummeting toward Seraphina. Leo, a ballet dancer and a scholarship student she sponsored, had shoved her out of the way. His own legs were crushed. He had saved her life. He had admired her for years but never dared confess his feelings because of his humble background. It was only after a recent chance encounter that they had reconnected and spoken openly. Everything was clear now. The person she had been looking for was never me. For the first time, I thought about divorce. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. Seraphina was two months pregnant. Grandfather Shen and my parents were overjoyed. They told me all couples fight, that I had to think of the child, to give him a complete family. Grandfather Shen arranged a family dinner to celebrate and to help us reconcile. For the sake of the child, and for the love I still couldn’t let go of, I agreed. But Seraphina had other plans. She arrived pushing Leo in his wheelchair. They were wearing matching, custom-made outfits. She sat him down in my seat at the head of the table. Ignoring her grandfather’s thunderous expression, she asked Leo gently what he wanted to eat. Leo glanced nervously at me. “Seraphina,” he whispered, “is it really okay for me to sit here? Won’t your husband be upset?” “Hah,” she scoffed. “A thief has no right to be upset.” Her words were a slap across my face. Ignoring the awkward stares from everyone, I mumbled an excuse about feeling unwell and fled upstairs. As I left, I saw her press a soft kiss to Leo’s forehead. My heart seized. Her grandfather’s angry roar was drowned out by the sound of my body tumbling down the stairs. Blood blurred my vision. Just before I lost consciousness, I thought I saw Seraphina running toward me. I woke up in the hospital. She was sitting by my bed, with dark circles under her eyes. A flicker of hope ignited within me. Was she worried about me? But her first words plunged me back into the icy reality. “I got rid of the child. A creature conceived in a lie should never have existed.” I remembered how she used to whisper in my ear, saying she wanted a gentle son, just like me. The loss of our child, the cold disgust from the woman I loved—it shattered the last of my composure. For the first time, I screamed at her, my voice raw with anguish, demanding to know why she was doing this to me. She calmly straightened her collar, her tone mocking. “You brought this on yourself. The moment you decided to take credit for something you didn’t do, you should have known this was coming.” I collapsed back onto the bed, watching as she took a call from Leo and left without a backward glance. The thought of our innocent, lost child sent me into a spiral of uncontrollable sobs. But I truly didn’t know. I was a doctor. I had simply treated my patient. It was just a coincidence that my patient was the woman I had loved from afar for years. Why had that become a crime? The day I was discharged, I had my lawyer draft divorce papers. If they all believed I had stolen Leo’s place, then I would give it back. The Wen family heir didn’t need to build his life on stolen affection. But I forgot one thing. Because I was the Wen family heir, my parents would not stand for this humiliation. And the Shen family would never accept Leo. They found Leo. They offered him a sum of money that would set him up for life, and treatment from the world’s leading orthopedic surgeon. In exchange, he had to disappear. He took the money and vanished that same day. But not before sending me a text: “Mr. Wen, my feelings for Seraphina are real. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused. Since you cannot tolerate my presence, I will accept the arrangements. I wish you both happiness.” Before I could reply, Seraphina burst into the room. She snatched the phone from my hand and stared at the screen for a full five minutes. I braced myself for an interrogation, but she said nothing. She simply went to the kitchen and made me a bowl of chicken soup, just like she used to. She became gentle again. She took me with her to social events, her every gesture an act of doting affection. To the outside world, we were the perfect couple once more. Seeing her so mature and responsible, Grandfather Shen finally entrusted the Shen Corporation to her. My parents relaxed. Even I started to believe that, in her heart, our family mattered more. It was only later that I understood. She was just biding her time. With full control of the company, Seraphina no longer had anything to fear. Ignoring the numerous joint ventures between our families, she allied with several other powerful families and launched an all-out assault on the Wen Corporation. In a matter of months, my family was bankrupt, drowning in debt, and cast out of the elite circle we had once belonged to. Creditors hounded us daily. My father’s black hair turned gray overnight. My mother cried endlessly. I ran to Seraphina, begging her for mercy. I found her feeding fruit to Leo, who was nestled in her lap. She let me wait for a long time before she finally deigned to look at me. “When you and your parents went to him,” she said, her voice dangerously soft, “when you destroyed his ability to have children and had him sold to a red-light district in Southeast Asia, were you thinking about mercy?” “You wanted to use this marriage for your family’s gain, didn’t you? Well, this is the price for scheming against me.” “I’m in charge now. Even the old man can’t stop me. The fact that your parents are still alive is a testament to my generosity.” Seraphina had her bodyguards hold me down. They forced handfuls of pills down my throat. I felt the blood drain from me as a private doctor confirmed to her that I would never be able to have children. She covered Leo’s eyes, whispering gently, “Don’t look. It’s filthy.” In that moment, I started to laugh. Laughing at my own foolish, delusional heart. “Let’s get a divorce.” She froze, a strange flicker of anger in her eyes. She grabbed my chin, her gaze hardening. “What, you realize there’s nothing left to gain from this marriage, so you want to cut and run? Not a chance.” “If it weren’t for you, Leo wouldn’t still be struggling to walk. You will behave, or the Wen family might be finished, but your parents are still alive, aren’t they?” She refused the divorce, but flaunted Leo everywhere, spoiling him to a scandalous degree. She let the media splash their intimate photos across every screen, and every time, she would just smile and tell them to talk to me. She pushed me into the line of fire, alone, forcing me to endure the shame and clarify the rumors, to admit again and again that I was a fraud, a self-serving thief. It was torture. It was revenge. And as a reward, she would keep the creditors away from my parents. I thought things couldn’t get any worse. As long as my parents were safe, this broken, humiliating marriage didn’t seem to matter. But a single phone call from the hospital taught me that there is no bottom to hell.

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Pregnancy insomnia was killing me, so I’d been obsessing over a DreamWeave mattress. The next day, a shipping notification for that exact mattress popped up on my husband Ethan’s phone. A wave of warmth washed over me. I decided to play along, to let him have his surprise. But three days later, I saw a picture of the same mattress on my best friend’s social media. Anna’s caption read: To whoever sent this amazing gift, I absolutely love it! You made my week! I told myself it was just a coincidence, a desperate, flimsy hope. That night, as Ethan slept beside me, I carefully slipped his phone from the nightstand. My fingers trembled as I opened the Amazon app. The recipient’s name stared back at me from the screen, stark and undeniable: Anna. 1 My mind was a tangled mess. It was as if the baby could feel my turmoil, kicking restlessly inside me. I leaned against the headboard, watching the darkness outside the window slowly fade to grey. I sat like that until dawn. Ethan woke just before seven. Seeing me already sitting up, his voice was thick with sleep and concern. “What’s wrong, honey? Another bad night?” I managed a stiff nod, unable to arrange my features into anything that didn’t scream betrayal. “You know that mattress you were looking at a few days ago?” he said, his voice gentle. “I saw it was on sale for the holidays. Let’s just get it.” He reached out and stroked my hair, a gesture that once would have melted me. “Don’t worry about the price. I make money to spend it on you.” They say a man’s heart follows his money. But it seemed Ethan’s heart could be split in two. He made me breakfast—all my favorite things—and left for work without eating a bite himself. The moment the door clicked shut, I grabbed my phone and created a new, anonymous social media account. I found Ethan’s profile, the one he kept locked, and what I saw felt like a physical blow. He posted a picture of his breakfast every single morning. And looking at the familiar lunchbox in every shot, a sharp, acid pain twisted in my gut. I had given that lunchbox to Anna in college. She loved to cook, so I’d saved up for months to buy her a high-end insulated box, even having it monogrammed with her initials. She’d hugged me so tight, promising, “Kate, I’m going to use this to bring you lunch every single day!” I never imagined that one day, she’d be using it to pack breakfast for my husband. No wonder Ethan never ate at home in the morning. Someone was already preparing his meals with meticulous care. Ethan and Anna worked at the same company. A company that Anna and I had founded together. After I got pregnant, Ethan had stepped in to help me manage things. They were the two most important people in my world. I trusted them like I trusted my own limbs. Now, the crushing weight of their betrayal threatened to suffocate me. My thumb swiped down, and a new post of his appeared—one he’d hidden from my main account. Today’s breakfast: my absolute favorite beef sandwich! In the five years we’d been together, I was always the one taking pictures, documenting our lives, sharing our little moments. He’d even teased me about it. “What’s the point of posting all this everyday stuff?” A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips as I scrolled through his meticulous daily log. I scrolled, punishing myself, reading post after post of a life he lived without me. Suddenly, my finger froze. An account name had caught my eye. DreamingOfE. The account had liked every single one of Ethan’s posts that mentioned Anna. I knew all of Anna’s accounts, public and private. I clung to the hope that it wasn’t her. But clicking on the profile was like having a bucket of ice water thrown in my face. Last week was Anna’s birthday. I’d ordered her a custom fairytale-themed cake. DreamingOfE had posted a picture of that exact cake on her birthday. The caption read: Celebrating with the person I love most, and the most important person in my life. So, which one was I to Anna? The one she loved most? Or the one who was just… important? I spent the entire day like a thief, piecing together the fragments of their secret world. Their interactions were subtle, never crossing a definitive line, but the persistent, sharp sting in my heart told me this was a betrayal all the same. When Ethan came home that evening, he found me disheveled on the sofa, my eyes red and swollen. “Honey, what happened?” It was the same deep, tender voice, the same soulful eyes. But in that instant, everything felt different. Tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks. I saw a flash of panic and genuine pain in his eyes. A small, pathetic voice in my head whispered, He still loves you. Give him one more chance. I pulled up the picture from Anna’s feed, my voice a forced, pouty whine. “Look, someone sent Anna this amazing mattress… I wish I had one.” His pupils dilated, his smile freezing on his face. I held my breath, watching him, giving him the space to tell the truth. He recovered quickly, forcing a stiff laugh. “If you want one, I’ll buy you one. Let me be the one to spoil you, okay?” His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. He spoke to me like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “You’re a grown woman, crying over something so silly.” There was no sweetness in his words, only the bitter taste of deceit. If he had just admitted it, told me he’d sent it to Anna, I think I could have forgiven him. But he dodged, he concealed, he treated me like a fool. It was all the proof I needed. They were hiding something. Having not eaten all day, the baby started to protest with a series of sharp kicks. Ethan, worried the kicks were hurting me, leaned down and pressed his cheek against my belly, murmuring to it. “Hey, little one, be nice to your mommy. Daddy’s going to make dinner right now, so you can stop kicking, okay?” He stood and immediately went to the kitchen. I watched his broad back as he moved around, an inexplicable ache spreading through my chest. Ethan was a good husband. He truly was. From our first date to our wedding day and beyond, he had always been patient, gentle, and utterly devoted. Since I’d gotten pregnant, he’d taken on everything—work, chores, all of it—so I could rest. So where did it all go wrong? How could the man whose world revolved around me suddenly divert the stream of his affection? My phone buzzed on the coffee table, jolting me from my thoughts. It was a video call from Anna. “Kate! How are you feeling? Everything okay?” Even through the screen, the concern in her eyes looked so real. I nodded, my voice flat. “I’m fine.” She chattered on about nothing for a few minutes until my patience wore thin. “Was there something you needed, Anna?” Sensing my mood, she dropped the small talk and got to the point. “Yeah, there’s something at work I needed to run by Ethan, but he’s not answering his phone.” I flipped the camera, aiming it at Ethan, who was busy at the stove. “He’s been making me dinner ever since he got home. Hasn’t had a chance to check his phone.” The other end of the line went silent for a moment. Then, Anna’s voice came back, laced with a forced, playful tone. “Wow, I feel like a giant, glaring third wheel right now.” Just then, Ethan walked out with a plate. He saw me holding the phone and looked curious. “What are you doing, honey?” “Anna couldn’t reach you, so she called me.” It was only for a fraction of a second, but I saw it—the way his body tensed at the mention of her name. He set the plate down, walked over, and casually took the phone from my hand, launching into a conversation with her. They were, in fact, talking about work. Seeing me still on the sofa, Ethan paused his conversation to say, “Honey, go ahead and eat. I’ll be there in a minute.” Maybe he was genuinely concerned about me. Or maybe they needed to speak privately. Either way, he took my phone, walked into his study, and shut the door. The table was filled with all my favorite foods, but each bite tasted like ash. I couldn’t stop my mind from racing. What were they saying behind that closed door? Were they confessing their feelings? Complaining about the moody, pregnant wife? The thoughts twisted and tangled in my head until I felt like my skull would split open. That night, as we lay in bed, Ethan wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Honey, I ordered that mattress you wanted. You’ll finally be able to get a good night’s sleep.” In that moment, an uncontrollable urge surged through me. I couldn’t bear the thought of us sharing a bed while living in separate worlds. I forced my voice to remain steady, to sound calm as I gave voice to the thorn in my heart. “I know you already bought one. For Anna.” The hand gently stroking my belly froze. Ethan said nothing. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Fear made my next words come out as a near-whisper. “Just give me a reasonable explanation. That’s all I ask.” Just as I thought I might suffocate from the tension, he finally spoke. “There was a difficult project at work,” he began, his voice low. “Anna pulled a week of all-nighters to get it done. Her birthday was last week, and I hadn’t gotten her anything, so… I thought the mattress would be a nice thank-you gift.” I accepted his answer. Because I wanted to. There were still so many other questions burning in my mind. Why send it anonymously? Why hide your social media posts from me? Why are you eating the breakfast she makes for you every day? But we had a baby on the way. And I couldn’t bear to lose this marriage, this life I had believed was perfect. I clumsily turned to face him, my pregnant belly making it awkward, but I stubbornly wrapped my arms around him. “Ethan, I can’t lose you.” He stroked my hair, his voice soft. “You silly girl.” His breathing soon deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. I carefully sat up and tucked the blanket around him. I went into the bathroom and, with shaking hands, opened the anonymous account and pulled up DreamingOfE. A new post was at the top. A heart flutter is an unconscious thing. He proves that to me again and again. And another, from the night before. It’s a wretched thought, but I wish I were the reason he still finds the energy to cook after a long day.

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1 It was an evening like any other. I was at the sink washing dishes when Toby’s voice drifted in from the living room, carrying its usual cool detachment. “Can’t you read a book or something? Try to improve yourself.” My hands stopped moving. He continued, “In the future, Lily is going to need more than a mother who’s just a housekeeper.” Clang. The plate hit the drying rack with a sharp crack. I froze. And in that single, shattering moment, I understood everything. He was comparing me to someone else. Some new standard I was failing to meet. … 2 Our six-year-old daughter was in the room, so I held my tongue and finished tidying the kitchen without a word. “Lily, honey, why don’t you go to your room and draw for a bit?” Once she was gone, I turned on the television and flipped to a trashy soap opera. A frown creased Toby’s brow. “Aren’t you going to do the dishes? They’ll start to smell.” He had a sensitive nose. The house had to be immaculate, free of any lingering odors. Anything that might create a smell had to be dealt with immediately. I poured myself a cup of tea and kept my eyes glued to the screen. “If it’s a job anyone can do, then you do it.” Toby let out a short, humorless laugh. “I was just offering a suggestion. It’s for Lily’s benefit, too. Is there any need to be so dramatic?” “Wash them or don’t. It’s up to you.” The drama on screen was reaching its climax. The wife and the mistress were in a screaming match in public. The husband wrapped his arms protectively around the mistress, shouting at his wife. “Look at you, you’re acting like a madwoman! Do you have any shred of dignity left? Every day I have to look at your sloppy, unkempt face, and it makes me sick.” The wife looked utterly destroyed, incapable of fighting back as her husband stormed away with the triumphant mistress in his arms. It was, admittedly, garbage television. I turned my head to look at Toby. “Do you think all cheating men invent excuses like that to cover up the simple fact that they can’t control themselves?” His expression tightened for a second before his cool mask slipped back into place. “What kind of question is that? How would I know?” I didn’t reply, just held his gaze. I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He spoke again. “If you have so much free time on your hands, you should sign up for a class. Improve your skills. Don’t waste your life on this meaningless drivel.” I switched off the TV and stood up to go to the bedroom. As I passed him, I made sure to add, “Don’t forget the dishes, Professor.” The next day, I hired a part-time housekeeper to handle the cooking and cleaning. When Toby came home that evening, Lily and I had already finished dinner. He saw the stranger in our home and frowned, his eyes questioning me. “The new housekeeper,” I said simply. “You know I don’t like having strangers in the house. You should go back to cooking. I’m used to your food after all these years.” I smiled. “After all these years, shouldn’t you be sick of it by now?” I’ve never been one to suffer in silence. Back in school, when bullies came after me, I’d fight back so effectively they’d be crying for their mothers, but you’d barely find a mark on them. I, on the other hand, always made sure to look like the victim. Faced with my sarcasm, Toby sighed. “I make one little comment, and you hold a grudge this long. Thea, you can’t stay a child forever. Some of those rough edges need to be smoothed out. You need to be a better role model for our daughter…” I picked up a water glass and hurled it at his feet. It shattered on the floor. “Are you done?” “If you’re not eating, I’ll have the housekeeper throw it out.” Ignoring his stunned expression, I turned to the startled woman and spoke in a gentle voice. “That’s all for tonight, thank you. Please come back at the same time tomorrow.” “Ma’am, should I do the dishes?” I shook my head. “No, thank you. I have someone else in mind for that job.” After she left, Toby looked like he was about to explode. “You act like this in front of strangers?” “What, am I embarrassing you? Tarnishing the great Professor’s reputation? Am I not worldly enough for you? Not cultured enough? Not as good as whoever you’re comparing me to out there?” “Thea, you’re being completely irrational!” He slammed the door on his way out. Irrational. Right. 3 But he used to love this part of me. He once told me that my bright, fiery personality had shown him a world he never knew existed. He was captivated by the collision of our two different worlds, our opposite natures. He said it made his life complete. I joined the university’s kickboxing club as a freshman. I was one of the few women who endured the brutal training all the way to the finals. Toby, who looked like a delicate scholar who might be knocked over by a strong breeze, fell for me the first time he saw me in the ring, sweat-drenched and fearless. “Your name is Thea,” he’d said once, “It sounds so gentle. It doesn’t match your personality at all.” “What? You see a name like that and expect some delicate literary genius? Sorry to disappoint you, professor. I’m more of a fighter.” He shook his head, flustered. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I think you’re… you’re so cool. Like a warrior from an old story, fighting for justice. I’ve… I’ve never met anyone like you.” He’d lowered his head then, his ears turning bright red. “Well, you have now,” I’d said. “Guess you’ll get used to it.” I turned to leave, but his urgent voice stopped me. “Wait! Can I… can I get your number?” “Sure.” He was a man of few words, and I wasn’t much for small talk. We didn’t interact much after that. Then one day, he was on his way back from his part-time job when a group of local thugs cornered him, demanding protection money. With his slender build, it was clear he couldn’t take a punch. Since he’d called me a warrior, and I happened to be there, I figured I should probably live up to the title. “Hey! Picking on someone weaker than you? How brave. Why don’t you try a few rounds with me?” They swarmed me instantly. Clearly, I was the more interesting target. Toby had been prepared to take a beating rather than give them his money. But seeing them turn on me, his eyes went red with fury. “Thea! Run! Don’t worry about me!” I shot him a look. “Maybe try a different kind of cheerleading.” I didn’t have much time, so after a quick warm-up, the fight was on. I had some training, but there were a lot of them. I took a few hits—a couple of scrapes on my face, a twisted arm. Toby cried the whole way to the clinic, and I laughed at him the whole way there. After that, he said a debt like that could only be repaid with a lifetime. Later, we graduated. I started my own business. He went on to grad school, climbing the academic ladder until he became a tenured professor. I funded most of that journey. He went from a small-town kid who studied his way out to a level of success most people only dream of. Back in his tiny hometown, he was a local hero. His parents, who had been farmers their whole lives, were the envy of the entire town. He used to say I was his guardian angel. Our life got better and better. We moved into bigger houses. We had our daughter. To take care of her, I stepped back, handed the daily operations of my company over to a professional manager, and focused on building our home. And now, he was starting to resent me for it. I didn’t know how far things had gone with his “reference point” out there, but my gut told me they were still in the early, simmering stages. Without proof, there was nothing I could do. For now. But I had money, and I had time. I was more than willing to play his game. Toby remained meticulous. His hair was always perfect, his shirts crisp and without a single wrinkle. He never came home smelling of anything he shouldn’t. He was still the dedicated academic, Professor Toby. The only change was that after that night, doing the dishes became his job. It was another ordinary day. I needed a book on contract law for a potential company acquisition, so I went into his study. I found it and was about to leave when a flash of red from a gap in the bookshelf caught my eye. It looked out of place. A strange feeling pulled me toward it.

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In my darkest year, the company’s new CEO launched a full-scale, aggressive pursuit of me. He promoted me, took me to dinner, and declared, “Cole Young stole my business, so I’m going to steal his girl. It’s only fair.” I chewed on my steak, thinking. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Cole already had a cherished love, a girl he’d been hung up on for years. He showered me with money and affection. I let it happen, half-heartedly playing along, coasting through six months of a numb, loveless arrangement. Then, at a gala, she returned. His long-lost love was back in the country. Urged on by the crowd, she blushed and linked her arm through Cole’s. My stomach dropped. I met the CEO’s confused gaze. The next second, Cole spoke. He toyed with the pink scrunchie on his wrist, his eyes landing coolly on me. “I have a girlfriend.” And just like that, I was even more lost than before. Because we had broken up two years ago. 1 It was the sixth month of Liam Hayes’s relentless pursuit. Our “relationship” had finally taken a small step forward: I had agreed to see a movie with him. He looked moved enough to cry. He turned away, muttering under his breath, “She’s so hard to get. No wonder Cole Young is so obsessed with her.” He handed me a hot milk tea to warm my hands, then placed a soft cushion on my seat. “Your period is in a couple of days, right?” he said, his voice full of concern. “Is work too stressful? I’ll have them turn down the AC in the office. Is there anything you can’t eat right now?” I waved a hand dismissively, my eyes fixed on the screen. “Don’t go to the trouble.” A shadow passed over his eyes. He’d misunderstood. “Is it because Cole did it better? Did he know you better?” I paused, swirling the warm tea in my hands. The sweetness, the flavor—it was exactly how I liked it. I could tell he’d done his research. “No,” I said. “You’re great.” A ripple of memory disturbed the calm surface of my mind. The truth was, Cole had never cared about those kinds of details. He was always busy, always exhausted. And he had a girl tucked away in his heart, a girl he thought about every single day. The first time he ever bought me a milk tea was to thank me. The day before, he’d cancelled a meeting at the last minute and hopped on a flight to see Clara Lane. When his mother found out and was about to explode, I’d covered for him. He’d shoved the drink into my hand. “Thanks,” he’d said flatly. “Let’s get dinner tonight. I don’t like owing people.” I’d caught a cold from running around for him that day. He hadn’t noticed the drink was iced. That night, my cough was so bad I had to cancel. “Aria, did you just compliment me?” Liam’s eyes lit up. He pressed his advantage. “Is the movie good? I spent a long time picking it out.” “It’s fine. I don’t really watch movies.” He froze. For a second, I thought he was about to figure something out. But then he just pulled out his phone and started typing in his notes app. Watching a romance movie with a girl increases intimacy. Can’t believe Cole Young is so clueless. This is my chance to get ahead! I smiled but said nothing. It wasn’t that Cole was clueless. He just didn’t want to watch movies with me. We didn’t speak for the rest of the film. 2 “You know, that male lead is the worst! I have zero sympathy for him.” “If you have a problem, just say it! It’s not that hard!” I fumed. Liam quietly cut my steak, sometimes looking down at the plate, sometimes up at me, a gentle smile on his face. A few frustrated tears welled in my eyes. “What do you think? You have to be on my side!” “Of course!” Liam blinked. “It’s just… I’ve never seen you this emotional before. It makes me happy.” He said it like a profound discovery. “My research says that people only show their true emotions to those they feel safest with!” I was taken aback. I realized that over the past six months, I had grown comfortable with him. Our conversations had become easy, relaxed. We were around the same age, with the same strange tastes. Liam was in his early twenties, a pampered rich kid who’d been dropped into our company as the new CEO. When he first arrived, he was full of ambition, ready to conquer the business world. He’d immediately run headfirst into the calm, experienced wall that was Cole Young. He lost every time. Then, one day, he’d gotten a tip from somewhere. He’d found me, the girl who made coffee and ran errands, and declared through gritted teeth, “You’re his girl, aren’t you? I’m going to win you over!” For the past six months, he’d stopped pulling all-nighters on projects and instead dedicated his energy to studying me. “If I can win over the woman he loves,” he’d reasoned, “then taking his projects will be a piece of cake.” Thinking about it now, it was almost funny. Cole had grown up with nothing. He was quiet, reserved, and had always fought to be number one. He’d nearly worked himself into the ground building his company from scratch. It would be strange if he lost to a sheltered rich boy like Liam. As he paid the bill, I put down my fork and tested the waters. “So, what made you think I was the one he… loved?” After all, in the three years Cole and I had been together, he had been, at best, lukewarm. We were never officially public. Liam suddenly went quiet, turning his face away. “Because… because I saw him once, carving a jade bracelet.” I blinked. “He’d go to this jade shop every day after work, sit under the warm light, and just carve for hours. And then… I saw you wearing it once.” The memory was hazy. A bracelet? I couldn’t quite recall. Cole had given me many things, but each gift was transactional, a way of keeping the score even. If I ordered him a cake, he’d give me earrings. If I picked him up in a storm when he was drunk, he’d give me a necklace. They were all bought by his assistant, placed silently on my nightstand. They weren’t cheap, but they weren’t special, either. The only time he put any thought into a gift was right before he flew to London to see Clara. Only then would he pick up his phone and choose something himself. Seeing my silence, Liam’s jealousy flared. “He’s just good at pretending. I treat you way better than he does. He barely even comes to see you anymore!” “Hmm,” I said noncommittally. As we were walking, he spotted a claw machine. “Aria, which one do you want?” he asked, his eyes wide with excitement. I wanted to tell him the truth. He was too good for this charade; I didn’t want to deceive him. But watching him concentrate so fiercely on winning a stuffed animal for me, a strange feeling stirred in my chest. “You’d better not regret this,” I mumbled. He didn’t hear me. He pulled a fluffy bunny from the machine and tucked it into my arms. “Don’t worry. Your boss is a pro. A few tokens are nothing to regret.” 3 A month later, I went to Norway for a business trip and landed a small project. It was an opportunity I only had because Liam had promoted me. The day I returned, it was snowing in the city. He was waiting for me downstairs, rubbing his hands together to stay warm. I gave him a scarf I had knitted myself. He was overjoyed. “There’s a gala tonight,” he said. “I need a date.” “Okay.” I didn’t think much of it. At the event, I followed quietly behind him. I found a delicious dessert and casually offered him a bite. “Do you want to try…” Before I could finish, Cole Young walked in. Our eyes met. Neither of us expected him to be there. Liam froze for a second, then took my hand, a possessive, deliberate gesture. “Thanks, Aria.” I looked down, letting him hold my hand. Cole probably wouldn’t care anyway. But he stood there for a long time, his gaze burning into me. Someone asked, confused, “Mr. Young, there are seats inside. Why are you standing by the door?” Liam stepped in front of me, a smug smile on his face. “Aria, let me give you your coat. Wouldn’t want you to be bothered by any creeps…” He was just about to provoke Cole when a bright, feminine voice called out from the doorway. “Cole! Wait for me!” A beautiful, stylish woman in stilettos hurried over. “What’s wrong? Did my talking about marriage make you shy?” The room buzzed with excitement. “Wow, you two are moving fast! No wonder Mr. Young has been working so hard these past few years.” “Of course! She’s his long-lost love, the one he’s been hung up on for years. Think of all the plane tickets he’s bought back and forth.” Cole’s expression remained unreadable. Clara Lane blushed and naturally linked her arm through his. She was back. It was all so sudden. I had been bored, just observing the drama. Now, Liam looked from me to her, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “And this is?” Someone explained, “That’s Mr. Young’s true love. He’s been secretly in love with her for years. She just got back, so it’s normal that you wouldn’t know…” “Excuse me, I have a girlfriend.” No one expected Cole to speak. He said it calmly, as if discussing the weather. The entire room fell silent. All eyes went to his wrist. Where a cute, pink scrunchie was wrapped around it. I stared at it, completely baffled. I remembered begging him to wear it once, and he’d just rubbed his temples and said, “Are you a child?” Besides, we had broken up a long time ago. Clara’s smile froze. She awkwardly removed her hand. She had never met me, but she knew he’d had a girlfriend at some point. “Sorry,” she said, forcing a laugh. “You never told me about her. I thought you two had broken up.” In the silence, Cole walked past me as if I wasn’t there. He stared directly at Liam and suddenly smiled. But his words were for the room. “Since this is a dinner party, let’s all take a seat.”

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I must have told my best friend to dump him a thousand times. In the end, I was the one drinking champagne at their wedding. On the day of the wedding, I sat at the head table with the groom’s chief strategist, auditing the damages on our phones. Turns out, every time those two had a meltdown, we were the collateral damage. Our chat histories were eerily identical. [It’s over. For real this time.] [But what am I supposed to do? I can’t stop thinking about him/her.] The Groom’s Strategist: [Get a new job. The circus is hiring clowns.] Me: [You owe me emotional damages.] 1 I must have told my best friend to break up with him a thousand times. In the end, I was the one drinking champagne at their wedding. The day the news dropped, my heart was a placid lake as I let out a hollow laugh—the kind you’d expect from a jaded queen in an old tragedy. But as Grace Evans’ ride-or-die since we were kids, I showed up. I was her maid of honor, after all. I even came bearing a hefty check and a lavish wedding gift. It was a joyous occasion, but I couldn’t crack a smile. Finally, Grace looked at me, her brow furrowed with concern. “Tracy, if you can’t smile, don’t. You look cool and mysterious with a straight face anyway.” “…” Fine. My best friend might be a hopeless romantic, but she was marrying into a family whose net worth had more commas than a grammar textbook. Plus, she still loved me. I could tolerate it. When the groom’s party arrived, I noticed one of the groomsmen looked even more miserable than I did. He seemed to fundamentally disapprove of this marriage. He was handsome, though, in a completely different way from the groom. A single black stud gleamed in his left earlobe, accentuating his sharp, sculpted features. He had a roguish charm, and the tailored suit added a layer of dangerous sophistication. One of the other bridesmaids noticed him and whispered to Grace, asking who he was. And then I heard the name that had been a curse word in my vocabulary for years: Caleb Vance. Just as I was Grace’s best friend, this Caleb Vance was apparently the groom, Liam Foster’s, childhood confidant. For the longest time, I had harbored a bone-deep hatred for this man I’d never met, a hatred second only to my feelings for Liam himself. Because every time I thought those two were finally done for good, this damned Caleb would whisper some brilliant strategy into his friend’s ear, and that dog Liam would somehow win my best friend back. He was the master strategist behind their reunion. This wedding should have been his ultimate victory. So why the long face? Was he trying to provoke me? 2 While the bride and groom were grinning like absolute fools, Caleb and I stood there, our faces frozen masks of indifference. After what felt like an eternity of ceremonies, I finally found my seat at the main table. I don’t know if the seating planner was a chaos agent, but Caleb was seated right next to me. The air buzzed with cheerful chatter, but a bubble of silence surrounded the two of us. We could have been mutes. I watched him idly swipe through his phone before he turned his head, his gaze locking directly onto mine. Normally, when strangers make eye contact, one of them looks away after a second or two. This man did not look away. Okay? I was now certain he was challenging me. So I held his gaze, refusing to back down. After a long moment, amidst the lively din of the reception, I heard his low voice. “Ms. Shaw. I’ve heard a lot about you.” So, he knew who I was. I offered a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Mr. Vance. A pleasure.” But that wasn’t enough to convey years of pent-up frustration. I added, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “This day wouldn’t have been possible without you. Your contribution has been… invaluable.” A slight frown creased his brow. “Thank you. The same could be said for you.” I scoffed. “Oh, I don’t think we’re quite the same. If Grace and Liam’s relationship was a road full of bumps, I was the pothole.” God knows when I started trying to break them up. From the moment they were just flirting, I knew Liam was wrong for her. And sure enough, their five years together were a dizzying rollercoaster of breakups and makeups. I don’t know if they were exhausted, but the drama was enough to make me swear off men for life. Dating? I’d rather adopt a dog. A few seconds later, Caleb replied, “Then I must have been the roadblock.” “Huh?” I turned to face him again. “Weren’t you the one always pushing for them to get back together?” “Who told you that?” Something wasn’t adding up. I narrowed my eyes. “If you weren’t his master strategist, then why did Liam always come crawling back right when they were on the verge of a real breakup?” 3 Caleb looked genuinely offended. He unlocked his phone, scrolled back about three months, and angled the screen toward me. Liam: [Bro, this might be it for real. I’m done with that heartless woman!] Caleb hadn’t replied. Two hours later— Liam: [Bro, she said yes! (Grinning emoji)] Liam: [Congratulate me, I’m getting married!] Caleb: [?] Caleb: [Have fun being her lapdog for the rest of your life. She tugs the leash, you bark.] Caleb: [You were born a man, but you’re choosing to live like a poodle. Stay close to your master.] Liam: [Are you just jealous I’m getting a wife?] … Caleb looked at me, his expression deadpan. “Do you have any idea how close I was to having an aneurysm? They cry breakup at every little thing. Who knows if they won’t cry divorce next? I’m doomed to be tortured by these two for the rest of my life. Do you understand my despair?” Silently, I opened my own phone and found my chat with Grace from that same day. Grace: [Tracy, I broke up with him.] Me: [For how many days this time?] Grace: [No, this time it’s for real! I’m completely over him!] I replied with a single, skeptical emoji. Two hours later— Grace: [Tracy, I have to tell you something. Please don’t be mad.] Me: [You got back together?] Grace: [He proposed! (Shy emoji)] Grace: [I said yes.] I said quietly, “I felt my world collapse.” Caleb stared at me. “…So you were trying to break them up?” “You were too?” Our eyes met, and a silent, horrified understanding passed between us. We started comparing notes, scrolling through our phones like two auditors examining a fraudulent account. And we discovered that history was alarmingly consistent. 4 Liam: [We broke up. For real this time.] Liam: [But what do I do? I can’t get her out of my head.] Caleb: [Listen to me. Get a new job. The circus is hiring clowns.] Grace: [Tracy, I’m really done with him this time.] Grace: [But I can’t sleep. I just keep thinking about him.] Me: [You owe me emotional damages.] Grace: Wire Transfer – $520.00 I tolerated it. Caleb’s voice was laced with disbelief. “Why does your best friend compensate you for her breakup drama?” “Your buddy doesn’t?” Caleb fell into a profound silence. As I scrolled further, I realized just how vicious Caleb’s texts could be. Liam: [Thinking about my ex. What should I do?] Caleb: [Go stand on your balcony.] Liam: [What? Did you tell Grace to come see me?] Caleb: [Let the cold wind clear your head. If an hour doesn’t work, try all night. If that doesn’t work, just jump.] Liam: [I looked it up. Capricorns are just slow to warm up.] Liam: [That’s why it’s taking so long to win her over.] Caleb: [What celestial sin did we Capricorns commit to be slandered by you like this?] Liam: [I sent her this huge paragraph. Why isn’t she replying?] Liam: [screenshot.jpg] Caleb: [All I see is a wall of text memorializing your dead dignity.] … Then, a look at my own chats— Grace: [I broke up with him. His parents are setting him up with someone from a ‘good family.’] Grace: [I’m done with love forever.] Me: [Okay.] Grace: [I’m in love again!] Me: [New guy?] Grace: [It’s still him.] Me: [Respect. Blessings. May you be locked together for eternity.] Grace: [He forgot our anniversary. He obviously doesn’t love me anymore.] Me: [People get forgetful when they get older. It’s normal.] Grace: [He’s not old! He’s my age!] Me: [A man is basically 60 after he turns 25. Trust me, find someone younger.] Grace: [But he’s… he’s still so good to me. (Shy emoji)] … Looking back, it seemed Caleb had actually tried to be supportive at first. It was only after years of this torture that he turned into this venomous, cynical wreck. There were countless chats just like these. But through the years, neither my efforts nor Caleb’s acid tongue could permanently sever the bond between those two. The power of a love-addled brain was truly terrifying. One was bad enough, but this was a case of two. Caleb and I locked eyes again. This time, we saw the same shared misery reflected in each other’s souls. “Bro,” I said. “Sis,” he replied. It was time to formalize our alliance. 5 Two souls, united by shared suffering, exchanged contact information. Caleb’s voice was weary, aged beyond his years. “How long do you give them?” My face was numb. “I’m hoping for a month.” We talked for a long time, our conversation drifting from the newlyweds to our own lives and work. “You work at the Innovatech Campus too?” he asked, surprised. I blinked. “Too?” “I just got transferred back there. I’ll take you out for dinner sometime, sis.” 6 On the first workday after the wedding, Caleb made good on his promise. Caleb: [Sis, your bro is here to deliver. Dinner tonight?] I felt a slight twitch at the word “sis.” Me: [Bro, you promised. Your treat.] Caleb: [Don’t worry, your bro’s got money.] Satisfied, I put my phone away. After work, I waited for him downstairs. A sleek black Mercedes G-Wagon pulled up to the curb, and the window rolled down to reveal Caleb’s aggressively handsome face. He wasn’t in a suit today, but a black technical jacket. The stud in his ear caught the last rays of the setting sun, glinting softly. He looked even more roguish. “Get in. I know a great spot.” I slid into the passenger seat. He took me to a hidden gem of a restaurant, tucked away on a quiet side street. The ambiance was serene, the food was divine. I dug in, and Caleb poured me a cup of tea from across the table. “Slow down. No one’s going to steal it from you.” I mumbled an affirmative through a mouthful of food. Halfway through the meal, my phone rang. It was Grace. My heart skipped a beat, a familiar sense of dread washing over me. Sure enough, the moment I answered, her tearful voice came through the line. “Tracy, I don’t think Liam loves me anymore!” “…” I shot a look at Caleb, who returned it with an expression that said, I know that tone. “It’s been, what, three days, my dear sister?” I hissed into the phone. “Did you have a fight on your honeymoon?” “No, we haven’t even gone on our honeymoon yet.” “Then what is it now?” “He said he was working late tonight on a huge project. But I was just scrolling through my feed and saw a picture his coworker posted. They’re out for a team-building event! They’re at a karaoke bar!” “He lied to me! He doesn’t care about me at all!” I took a deep breath, feeling my blood pressure spike. “Is it possible that they finished the project and are celebrating?” “No way! He just doesn’t love me anymore!” As I was racking my brain for a way to calm her down, Caleb suddenly held his hand out to me. I paused, then handed him my phone. Caleb cleared his throat and spoke into the phone in a calm, authoritative voice. “Grace, hello. This is Caleb Vance.” The other end of the line went dead silent. “Liam’s project tonight? I was in charge of it. We just wrapped up,” he continued smoothly. “My team has been killing themselves over this for the past two weeks. I’m treating them tonight, on my dime. I picked the place. Liam didn’t even want to come, I had to drag him here.” “He didn’t give you the details because he didn’t want you to worry. That was his mistake. But I can personally guarantee you, he is absolutely devoted to you.” “If you don’t believe me, I can put him on the phone right now.” After a few seconds of silence, Grace’s small voice came through. “N-no, that’s okay, Caleb. I’m sorry, I misunderstood. I hope you guys have fun.” The call ended. I stared at Caleb, dumbfounded. “Bro, with skills like that… you’re wasted in tech. You should be in PR.” Caleb handed my phone back, his expression unreadable. “You get used to it.” “I did this all the time when they were dating. Standard procedure.” “Calm one party down, then give the other an easy way out.” “What else are we supposed to do? Let them actually tear their lives apart?” I suddenly realized he was even more of a long-suffering parent than I was. Just then, Caleb’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID, answered it on speaker with a deadpan look. It was Liam. “Bro! Help me!” Liam’s panicked voice yelled. “I think my wife is mad at me! She’s not answering my texts!” “I think she’s going to ask for a divorce!” Caleb said, “Leave the karaoke bar right now. Go to the nearest flower shop and buy a bouquet of roses. Then go to a bakery and get her favorite strawberry shortcake. Then go home and get on your knees.” Liam was confused. “Huh? Why?” Caleb’s voice was dangerously calm. “Because when your wife called in a panic, I, in an effort to cover for your sorry ass, told her that I was in charge of your project tonight.” “And I,” he paused for effect, “am currently having dinner with your wife’s best friend, Ms. Tracy Shaw.” Silence from Liam’s end. A full thirty seconds of it. Then, his voice, now filled with a strange mix of terror and gossip-fueled excitement, whispered, “Whoa. Bro, are you… hooking up with my wife’s maid of honor?” A vein pulsed in Caleb’s temple. “Get lost.” He hung up and looked at me, exhaustion etched into his features. “See? This is our life.” I nodded in solemn solidarity. “You’ve worked hard, bro.” This meal felt less like a date and more like a strategy session between two war-weary veterans. 7 After that night, Caleb and I started talking a lot more. Since we worked in the same tech park, we often met up for lunch. His company’s cafeteria was amazing, and I shamelessly mooched off him several times. Before long, it seemed like everyone in his office knew who I was. One time, when I went to find him, the receptionist greeted me with a knowing, teasing smile. “Ms. Shaw! Here to see Director Vance again?” “He’s in a meeting, but you can wait in his office.” The title “Director Vance” threw me. I always assumed he was just another programmer from a wealthy family, like Liam. I had no idea he was an executive. I sat in his spacious office, looking around. The decor matched his personality—a cool, minimalist palette of black, white, and grey. But there were touches of something else. A complex LEGO spaceship sat on his desk. A row of anime figurines lined a shelf. It was a fascinating contrast to his roguish, handsome face. Just as I was admiring the collection, Caleb walked in. He shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it casually over the back of his chair, and loosened his tie. “Been waiting long?” “Nope, just got here.” I put my hands together in a mock martial arts bow. “Director Vance. I am not worthy.” He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Stop messing around.” “Got plans tonight? If not, dinner’s on me.” “Sure. It’s my turn to pay. Can’t have you going broke on my account.” “Deal.” He walked over and, in a gesture that felt surprisingly natural, ruffled my hair. “What are you in the mood for?” My heart skipped a beat. The gesture was so intimate. I could smell the faint, woody scent of his cologne. I turned my head away, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “Anything… anything’s fine.” Caleb seemed to realize it too. He retracted his hand, clearing his throat. “How about that hidden spot from last time?” “Sounds good.” The atmosphere had suddenly become charged, a delicate tension hanging in the air. Neither of us spoke. The spell was broken by Grace’s frantic phone call. “Tracy! I’m pregnant!” “…?!” I glanced at Caleb. He’d clearly heard. The look of sheer panic on his face mirrored my own. I shakily put the call on speaker. “Grace, are you serious?” “Of course! Two lines on the pregnancy test! I just took it!” “I haven’t even told Liam yet! You’re the first person I called!” “What do I do now, Tracy?! I’m so nervous! I’m not ready to be a mom!” Before I could even process the information, Caleb spoke, his voice a beacon of calm in the storm. “First, go to a doctor and get a proper confirmation.” “Second, tell Liam.” “Third, take a deep breath and try not to spiral.” Grace’s voice was timid on the other end. “C-Caleb? Why are you there?” “I’m with Tracy,” he said simply. “…Oh.” That single “oh” was loaded with a universe of meaning. I could practically feel her gossip-loving heart combusting with curiosity. After the call, Caleb and I just stared at each other. “Those two,” I sighed. “As long as they’re breathing, they’ll find a way to create chaos.” Caleb rubbed his temples. “Come on, let’s get dinner.” “After that, I’ll take you to the hospital.” I blinked. “Why am I going to the hospital?” “Your best friend is pregnant. Aren’t you going to be there for her?” he asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s probably a nervous wreck, and we both know Liam is useless in a crisis.” “You go keep an eye on things. It’ll put my mind at ease.” A warmth spread through my chest. This guy, for all his cold and cynical posturing, was incredibly thoughtful. 8 I went with Grace to her appointment, and the pregnancy was confirmed. When Liam heard the news, he hugged Grace, laughing and crying like a fool. Infected by his emotions, she started crying too. I watched them from the side, a mix of amusement and genuine affection swelling inside me. These two lovebirds, as exhausting as they were, truly loved each other. It was late by the time we left the hospital. Caleb had been waiting for me by the entrance the whole time. When he saw me, he handed me a warm cup of hot chocolate. “You’ve had a long night.” “It was fine. I’m just a little hungry.” “Get in. Let’s get you some food.” Soft music played in the car. I held the warm drink in my hands, watching the city lights blur past the window, and a sudden sense of peace washed over me. “Caleb.” “Hmm?” “What are we?” I don’t know why I asked. Maybe it was the gentle mood of the night, or maybe being around the happy, chaotic couple had stirred something in me. Caleb’s hands tightened on the steering wheel for a fraction of a second. He turned to look at me, the glow of the streetlights softening the sharp lines of his face. “What do you think we are?” he asked back. “Siblings from another mother?” I ventured. He laughed. “Tracy, are you an idiot?” “We’re two single adults who met through mutual friends, who seem to get along pretty well, and who enjoy spending time together.” “You call that being siblings?” My face grew hot. “Then what do you call it?”

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Abandoned in London for three years. While I was being beaten on a cold, unfamiliar street, Josh Rojas was back home, sending a lavish bouquet of Valentine’s Day roses to Serena Dalton, the woman he cherished. While I was wasting away in a damp, rented flat, waiting to die, Josh Rojas was throwing a magnificent birthday gala for Serena. Just when I was sure I would breathe my last in England, one of his assistants came for me. “Miss Shaw,” he said, his face impassive. “It’s time to go home.” On the private jet, I wiped the condensation from the small, round window. His assistant approached. “We’re preparing for landing, Miss Shaw.” He paused, his voice softening slightly. “Once you’re back, let go of Josh. He and Miss Dalton are about to be engaged.” My hand froze against the cool glass. After a long moment, I shook my head. “That was then. I was young and foolish.” 1 I stood at the gates of the Shaw estate, my luggage laughably small. From inside the grand house, I could hear my parents’ raw, furious argument. A teacup shattered on the marble entryway just outside the door. “How dare she come back looking like that? Why didn’t she just die over there?” my mother shrieked. “From the very beginning, she was never as good as the Dalton girl,” my father roared back. “Look at the state of her! Serena Dalton is already the brilliant, accomplished heiress to the Dalton fortune!” The sky bled from dusk to black before Martha, our housekeeper, finally opened the door. She wiped tears from her eyes and pulled me inside. As we passed my parents’ bedroom on the way upstairs, I hesitated. “Father, Mother,” I called out softly. “I’m home.” The only reply was the thud of something heavy hitting the door from the inside. Martha quickly pulled me away. “Oh, my dear girl,” she whispered, her voice thick with pity. “Why are you still so naive?” 2 The next day, I was ordered to find a job at a hotel. As I was leaving, my father stopped me. “Wait.” His voice was cold steel. “When you get there, you drop the pampered princess act. You are not a Shaw anymore; you’re just another worker. If I hear that you’ve told anyone who you are, you’ll regret it.” I nodded and left. It took a long walk to get out of the wealthy district before I could catch a bus. As we moved through the city center, the bus jolted violently. “We hit something!” someone yelled. “What kind of car is that? It looks expensive.” “The driver is done for. That’s a Maybach. He’ll be paying that off for the rest of his life.” I looked up from the resume I’d been studying. Our bus had sideswiped a multi-million-dollar Maybach while changing lanes. I recognized the vanity plate instantly. My fingers clenched around the paper in my hands. It was Josh’s car. The bus was out of commission. As I queued up to get off, I saw the driver of the luxury car open the rear door. A perfect couple emerged: the impeccably dressed Josh Rojas and the elegant, long-haired Serena Dalton. A murmur went through the crowd. “Who are they?” “He’s handsome enough to be a movie star.” “She’s gorgeous, too. They look perfect together.” Standing at the back of the crowd, I instinctively touched my earlobe. The hole from the piercing I once had was long gone. Three years ago, Josh had admired a pair of pearl earrings at an auction. Even though I was terrified of pain, I went and got my ears pierced. On his birthday, I wore them, hoping he would like it. But by a cruel twist of fate, Serena wore an identical pair that day. My presence seemed to deeply upset her. To appease her, Josh ripped the earring straight from my ear. “A pathetic imitation,” he’d sneered. The snow-white pearl fell to the ground, stained by crimson drops. 3 Shaking myself free from the memory, I clutched my portfolio and hurried toward the next bus stop. Last night, my phone had buzzed with warnings from their friends. Aria, you idiot. How dare you come back. Listen up. The title of Mrs. Rojas belongs to Serena. Get that through your thick skull. If you ever hurt Serena again, we’ll skin you alive. You worthless snake. Even your own parents say you’re an ungrateful wretch. I blocked each number, one by one. They were worried for nothing. For me, the word “love” had long since lost its meaning. As I boarded the next bus, I had the strangest feeling that a pair of eyes from the accident scene was fixed on me. I didn’t turn to look. I just got on the bus and disappeared into the city. … At the Celestial Hotel, the interview concluded, and the General Manager walked over to me. “You interviewed very well. Work hard, and you’ll have a bright future here.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Thank you. I can start immediately.” She looked surprised. “Excellent. Head over to HR and get your paperwork started.” The hotel was constantly busy, a whirlwind of guests and staff. I never had a moment’s rest, but I didn’t feel tired. My salary was commission-based; the busier the hotel, the more I’d make. I was energized. “Mr. White, what kind of tea can I get for you?” “Mr. Rojas, you’re too kind. It’s an honor just to have you pour.” I was passing a private dining room, taking notes on a clipboard, when the voices from within made me freeze. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, Josh Rojas sat at the head of the table, commanding the room. Business documents were spread out before him. A nearby staff member saw me and hurried over. “Manager Shaw, aren’t you going to go in and serve them personally?” In the competitive hotel world, when a major client was present, the area manager was expected to make an appearance, perhaps offer a complimentary dessert or a bottle of wine. But this was Josh Rojas. If I walked in there, his face would turn to ice. “No, that’s not necessary,” I said quickly. “Just make sure they have everything they need.” I turned to leave, but as I did, my eyes met Josh’s through the crack in the door. Our gazes locked. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly, and I felt as though I’d been turned to stone by some immense, terrifying force. The world went silent. Three years of torment abroad had conditioned me to run, to put as much distance as possible between myself and this man. But I couldn’t make a scene. I forced the same polite, professional smile I used when a guest was screaming in my face, gave a slight nod, and walked away. 4 Two hours later, the staff was cleaning the private room. “Manager Shaw, the guest left a fountain pen behind.” I was about to say, “Take it to the front desk…” when the staff member added, “Manager Shaw, I think it has your name on it?” I walked into the room and took the pen. When I saw it clearly, a tremor went through me. Could this be the handmade fountain pen I gave him for his birthday all those years ago? I had a tiny ‘A’ engraved on the pure gold nib. “Manager Shaw, should I still take it to the front desk?” My hand tightened around the pen. “I’ll handle it.” … Back in my office, I didn’t send the pen to the lost and found. I couldn’t figure out if Josh had left it on purpose or if it was a genuine mistake. And I certainly couldn’t understand why he would ever use something I had given him. To him, my gifts were like cursed objects, tainted by an evil he refused to touch. After a moment of internal struggle, I placed the pen in my desk drawer. Logically, it should have ended up in a trash can years ago, just like everything else I’d ever given him. Just then, an employee rushed in, looking flustered. “Manager Shaw, the guest is back! He’s asking for you.” I didn’t understand. “What guest?” “Mr. Rojas. He came back for the pen.” I frowned. “That pen doesn’t belong to him.” The employee paled. “I… I accidentally mentioned that you had it. He said he wants to see you. Immediately. Manager Shaw, he seems… very powerful.” 5 My hand trembled as I entered the meeting room. Josh Rojas turned from the floor-to-ceiling window. “Where is it?” His gaze was sharp, landing on my empty hands. With me, his aura was always brutally cold, without a fraction of the warmth he showed Serena. But it was fine. After being abandoned by them for three years, unable to reach anyone by phone, my heart had long ago frozen solid. I forced myself to remain calm. “Are you referring to the fountain pen? It’s not yours.” His cold eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to destroy your family’s flagship hotel?” My fists clenched, a subtle tremor running through them. It took a moment before I could find my voice. “Mr. Rojas, perhaps you’ve forgotten. When I was eighteen, I flew halfway across the country and apprenticed with a master craftsman to make that pen. My hands were raw for weeks. It’s my creation.” I looked him straight in the eye. “You must have mistaken it for a gift from Serena, didn’t you?” I knew how hard his heart was. I wasn’t naive enough to think he would ever use something from me. The only logical explanation was that he’d forgotten its origin. As I expected, he stood there, tall and silent, offering no reply. I bowed my head slightly. “My apologies for the confusion, Mr. Rojas.” He walked past me, pausing for a few seconds without a word, before striding out of the room. 6 The atmosphere at home that evening was surprisingly calm. My mother’s expression had softened, and for once, my father wasn’t angry. My mother gestured for me to sit. “How is work? Are you settling in?” I nodded. “It’s fine.” She reached out and stroked my hair. “The hotel’s Vice President called. He said you’re doing an excellent job.” It had been so many years since I’d felt this kind of warmth from her. It felt like a dream from another lifetime. I sat stiffly, unsure how to react. After a few minutes, my mother spoke again, her tone hesitant. “Aria, Josh’s grandmother has invited us to dinner tomorrow night.” I froze, looking at her in confusion. She averted her gaze. “You’ve been back for a while now. You must have heard about the Rojas and the Daltons. They’re getting engaged. The Rojas feel they owe us something, so they’ve invited us for a meal before the official announcement.” My fingers curled into a tight fist. My father’s temper flared instantly. “What’s that look on your face? You’re not still hung up on him, are you? Serena is a well-educated, gentle, and understanding young woman. You’re a failure. You can’t compare.” I clutched the documents in my lap. “Father, Mother, may I please not go tomorrow?” 7 The Rojas Mansion. When we arrived, the Daltons—Serena and her parents—were already there. The living room was filled with lively chatter, the atmosphere warm and congenial. The butler cleared his throat. “Madam Rojas, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw have arrived.” The conversation stopped abruptly. My gaze met Serena’s, who was sitting beside the Rojas matriarch. The air was thick with a hellish tension. Even my parents looked uncomfortable. But the Rojas family controlled the city’s largest conglomerate. No one dared to cross them. My parents presented their gift with forced smiles. The most important guest of the evening, Josh himself, was apparently very busy. By seven o’clock, he still hadn’t arrived. His grandmother looked displeased. Dinner had already started when he finally walked in. He strode into the dining room, his eyes sweeping over the tense gathering. He seemed to frown. “Grandmother, what is this?” I felt his scrutinizing gaze land on me. I immediately looked down, stirring the soup in my bowl. “Josh, what are you waiting for?” his grandmother said sharply. “Sit next to Serena.” As the youngest guests, Serena and I were seated together. But Josh chose the empty seat on Serena’s other side, putting her between us. My hand tightened on my spoon. I remembered when we were children. I was selfish and possessive, insisting that only I could sit next to him. I would throw a tantrum if anyone else took my spot. Back then, he was like an older brother, always indulging me. But as we grew up, his patience wore thin. Eventually, my presence just seemed to irritate him, and he would punish me for the slightest annoyance. I learned to be more careful, to walk on eggshells around him. But my fierce, unyielding love for him always made me lose my footing, always made me cross the line. 8 Throughout the entire dinner, my family was invisible. The Rojas elders spoke exclusively to Serena and her parents. We were left in an awkward, humiliating silence. Perhaps only then did my parents understand. This wasn’t an apology dinner. It was a power play. A warning. Our families are about to be joined. Know your place, Shaws. Control your daughter. Don’t cause any more trouble. Even so, my parents swallowed their pride. When you’re outmatched, you have no choice but to bow your head. I glanced up at Mrs. Rojas. There was a time when she would hold my hand and say, “My dear Aria, you’re the only granddaughter-in-law I’ll ever want. On your wedding day, I’ll give you a whole chest of family heirlooms. You’re so lovely, my dear.” Looking back, I realized that was only because the Shaw family business was still thriving. A Shaw heiress was a suitable match for a Rojas. But then the Daltons rose to power, and I was no longer their choice. Lost in thought, my spoon slipped from my fingers and clattered against my plate. It was a breach of etiquette. Every head turned toward me. Mrs. Rojas scoffed. “A few years abroad, and Aria still hasn’t learned any grace.” Josh’s mother looked at me with a condescending smile. “Aria, dear, you must learn to control your need for attention.” I’m sure my face was ghostly pale. I opened my mouth to explain, then realized there was no point. But as I looked up, my eyes met a pair of intense ones already fixed on me. Josh. He committed an even greater sin of etiquette by pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips. His mother shot him a death glare, and only then did he remove it, tossing it onto the table. Serena leaned closer to him. “Josh, look. Alex and the others are in Norway seeing the Northern Lights. They’re asking if we want to join them.” I lowered my eyes, staring at the lines on my own hand. The air in the room was growing thin. I felt like I was suffocating. My phone vibrated. I used it as an excuse. “I’m sorry, I have to take this call.” 9 Once outside, I answered the call, my voice tight with emotion. “Matt?” A low, magnetic voice replied, “Aria. I miss you.” I forced a smile, but the words felt foreign and clumsy in my mouth. “I… I miss you… too.” “Come on, silly. You promised you’d say it to me often. Don’t tell me you’re taking it back already.” The words still felt stuck. “Matt, I…” “I’m getting angry!” he teased. I closed my eyes. “I… I miss you… too.” Suddenly, there was a clatter behind me. I spun around, terrified, and my eyes locked with Josh’s. He was squinting, his expression dangerous. I quickly lowered the phone. When had he come outside? A cold sweat broke out on my back. “Silly girl, what’s wrong?” Matt asked from the phone. Something felt terribly wrong. Josh opened his cigarette case, lit one with a deliberate, menacing slowness, and his face was terrifying. It was the same look he’d had three years ago, when he’d casually destroyed my life with a single sentence. Mr. Shaw, Aria ran into Serena. Should she go to jail, or should we send her abroad to learn some manners? I ended the call and tried to walk away. I had made a mistake. This secluded bamboo grove was Josh’s private sanctuary. But as I reached the edge of the veranda, a hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. “Who is he?” Josh’s voice was freezing. Pain shot up my arm. He was never gentle with me. I fought back the tears, forcing myself to look at him through a sheen of cold sweat. “Josh, I’m sorry. I trespassed. It was my fault.” I stared at him, my voice steady. “I understand the meaning of tonight’s dinner. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you and Serena ever again.” “I wish you both a happy engagement and a lifetime of happiness.” I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip was like a vise, filled with a deep, simmering hatred, as if crushing my bones was the only way to erase my sins. The more I struggled, the tighter he squeezed. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, refusing to let him see me cry. He glanced down at me, then yanked me forward. Without warning, the glowing red tip of his cigarette pressed into my palm. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. “Ah!” A scream of pure agony tore from my throat. He leaned in, his voice a low, terrifying growl, each word a threat from the depths of hell. “Aria. I’m asking you. Who… is… he?” The fire seared my skin, the pain radiating straight to my heart. I stared at him in shock. Suddenly, the dining room doors burst open, and a crowd of people spilled out onto the veranda. The moment Josh released me, someone stormed forward and slapped me across the face with tremendous force. CRACK. “Shameless hussy!” I was already disoriented. The blow sent me staggering back against the railing. I clung to it for support, my head ringing, the world a blur. Josh’s mother stood over me, her voice dripping with venom. “Is this how the Shaws raise their daughter? To be a desperate, shameless leech? Josh is Serena’s fiancé!” I pushed myself upright, my burned palm screaming in protest. Straightening my back, I met her furious gaze. “You’ve all misunderstood. I learned my lesson a long time ago. What happened in the past was just childish foolishness. And tonight, I wasn’t clinging to anyone.” I held up my phone with as much dignity as I could muster. “I forgot to mention. For the last three years, I’ve had a boy…” “Aria, shut your mouth!” Before I could finish, I was grabbed and dragged away. I stumbled, trying to keep up. “Josh!” He was pulling me, almost running, away from the mansion. My ankle twisted, sending a fresh wave of pain through me. Behind us, his mother and grandmother were shouting in shock. “Josh!” He shoved me into his car. Before I could even scramble out, he was in the driver’s seat, the doors locked, trapping me inside. “Drive,” he commanded his chauffeur. 10 He took me to one of his private residences and locked me in. I stared at him in disbelief. “Josh, what are you doing?” He was tall, imperious, and holding my phone. His face was a dark mask as he scrolled through it. I lunged for it, but he held it high above my head, dangling it like a toy in front of a clown. “Give me back my phone!” That night, my throat went raw from screaming, but I never got it back. Sometime after midnight, overwhelmed by terror and exhaustion, I finally closed my eyes. In a hazy, restless sleep, I felt a cool sensation on my hand. My eyes flew open. The sight that greeted me was shocking. Josh was carefully applying ointment to the burn on my palm. Our eyes met. A chill ran down my spine, and I snatched my hand back as if I’d been burned again. I saw the front door was open and made a break for it. I only made it two steps before he grabbed me from behind. “It’s the middle of the night. I’ll take you home in the morning.” I twisted around and bit his hand, hard. He grunted in pain and loosened his grip. I shot him a cold smile and tried to leave again, but he caught me by the collar and slammed me against the wall. His tall frame completely eclipsed mine. His perfect, handsome face was inches from my own, his scent overwhelming me. “Do you hate me this much now?” he whispered. I looked up at him and laughed, a hollow, empty sound. “Josh? Aren’t you the one who hates me? What’s wrong?” “You should let me go. What if Serena gets jealous?” Just then, a phone started vibrating in the room. I craned my neck and saw it was mine. I tried to push him away to answer it.

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