1 I built an empire from the ground up right alongside Henry. But just weeks before our wedding, he looked me in the eyes and confessed he had fallen in love with my younger sister. I agreed to break off the engagement, but on one condition: he had to help me seduce his biggest corporate rival, Collin Sterling. “Are you insane? You spent ten years chasing me, and now you are pulling this stunt just to get revenge?” Henry’s handsome face twisted in disbelief. I lifted my chin, speaking out of pure, spiteful spite. “Collin is taller than you, and he is better looking. I stopped loving you a long time ago. Now, I want him!” Henry scoffed, looking at me like a toad trying to swallow a swan. “Everyone knows Collin Sterling is totally untouchable. No woman has ever managed to catch his eye.” “That is exactly why you need to figure out a way to make it happen! If you help me get him, I will sign a legal agreement waiving all of my inheritance rights. I will hand over the multi-billion dollar family empire to you and my sister on a silver platter.” I spun around, pretending to be utterly detached and cool. But the second my back was turned to him, hot tears flooded my eyes. Of course I knew my chances of actually landing Collin Sterling were absolute zero. I was just using this mutually assured destruction tactic to vent the agonizing, suffocating love I still felt for Henry. But I never, in a million years, expected Collin Sterling to step forward in front of a massive crowd, take my hand, and ask me, “What day are we getting married?” … “This is my former fiancée, Cathy. She has a massive crush on you, Mr. Sterling.” “She loves your movie-star looks. She loves your ruthless, decisive charm in the boardroom. She is deeply captivated by the mature elegance you have cultivated over the years…” Henry’s jaw was clenched tight, his handsome face dark and stiff as he read the embarrassing love letter addressed to Collin. Henry had written the letter for me. The massive diamond necklace and designer gown I was wearing were all paid for with his black Amex. He had actually bailed on a multi-national board meeting just to drive me to the most exclusive, expensive restaurant in the city. He personally arranged this extravagant candlelight dinner, all to help me confess my “love” to Collin Sterling. Collin let out a low, icy laugh. “Is this some kind of April Fools’ joke?” Henry’s jaw muscle twitched. He tried his hardest to look completely unfazed. “I assure you, I am not joking. Cathy is genuinely interested in you, and I am simply acting as the middleman to help her.” “You can leave now. Stop ruining my private evening with Collin.” I dismissed Henry with a cold, dismissive wave of my hand, watching him turn and walk out into the pouring rain. His silhouette was lean, broad-shouldered, and striking. He looked even more mature and captivating than the day I met him ten years ago. Back then, he was just a broke college freshman working a summer internship at my father’s conglomerate. He wore faded blue dress shirts. His eyes were clear, bright, and fiercely stubborn, and he worked harder than anyone else in the building. I saw his brilliant potential and his impeccable character. I personally pulled him out of the mud, guiding him step-by-step until that broke intern became the youngest Vice President in the company’s history. “He says you are into me, but the way you are looking at him right now… it is painfully obvious you still love him,” Collin commented, his voice flat and detached. His face was flawlessly handsome, his eyes impossibly deep and unreadable. He sat behind a thin veil of smoke rising from a burning stick of agarwood, looking like an untouchable god observing the mortal world. Right at that moment, through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Henry stop on the sidewalk below and look back up at our table. Without caring about my dignity or boundaries, I immediately stood up, walked around the table, and dropped directly onto Collin’s lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close so that from the street, it looked like we were intimately whispering against each other’s lips. “I am so sorry, Collin. I had to lie and tell him I wanted to date you, because that was the only way I could get you in a room alone. My actual intention is purely business. I am begging you to drop Henry’s project and invest your capital in me.” I didn’t know if it was just my imagination, but for a split second, a flash of deep disappointment seemed to cross Collin’s eyes. “You do realize I am scheduled to sign a fifty-million-dollar investment deal with Henry’s division next week, right?” Of course I knew! I was completely out of time. I frantically pulled a sleek leather binder from my bag and started rapid-firing my pitch, breaking down the stealth startup I had been building in secret. “…I have partnered directly with top PhD researchers at the university. Our proprietary tech is leagues ahead of whatever Henry’s team is pitching. We have a one hundred percent viability rate for commercial scaling…” Collin slowly flipped through the pages, a faint, amused smirk touching the corner of his lips. “Everyone in the industry says you are a brainless girl obsessed with love. But this company you have built… it is incredibly solid.” I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. “My father is a massive misogynist. He doesn’t have a son, and he would rather hand his entire empire over to his nephew than let me sit in the big chair.” “Originally, I poured all my time and resources into grooming Henry. I honestly believed that once we got married, we would run the conglomerate together as a power couple. But then he had to go and fall in love with Claire. My father’s bastard daughter from his mistress!” Collin looked at me, his expression perfectly calm. “The mistress you are referring to is now legally your father’s wife. Claire is currently the beloved, golden child of your family. If Henry marries her, he gets the exact same keys to the kingdom.” And that was the exact thing that made my blood boil with sheer, unadulterated rage! I poured my absolute heart and soul into building Henry up, and in the end, I was basically just polishing the crown for Claire. Years ago, Claire and her home-wrecking mother had aggressively barged into our lives. The stress and humiliation had triggered a massive heart attack that killed my mother. I hated them with every fiber of my being! Henry falling in love with Claire was the most vicious, agonizing betrayal I could possibly imagine. “I am going to destroy them. And right now, you are the only person on earth who can help me do it. Drop Henry. Invest in me.” I stared at Collin, my eyes burning with desperate intensity. But his gaze remained chillingly detached. He firmly grabbed my waist and effortlessly lifted me off his lap, placing me onto the chair next to him. “I absolutely despise people who mix emotions with business. Come find me when you actually have your head on straight.” 2 Collin stood up and gracefully exited the restaurant. I stumbled out of the private dining room and chased after him, only to be completely stunned to see Henry still standing in the freezing rain by the entrance. “I watched you literally throw yourself onto his lap, Cathy. I never realized you were this incredibly desperate and cheap!” His eyes looked like they were literally on fire. I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “What? Are you jealous? You stood down here freezing in the rain for an hour just to wait for me so you could insult me?” Before he could even open his mouth to reply, Claire’s sickeningly sweet, high-pitched voice drifted out from the VIP club across the street. “Oh, Cathy, you are so confused! Henry was waiting for me. He wasn’t waiting for you.” She was wearing a skin-tight, sequined mini dress that highlighted every curve of her body, looking like a total knockout compared to my stiff, conservative business suit. Henry looked at her, his voice instantly softening into pure, sickening devotion. “Baby, aren’t you freezing?” He quickly stripped off his expensive tailored overcoat and draped it over her bare shoulders. She pouted, leaning into him. “It isn’t enough! I need my big strong Henry to warm up my hands.” Henry immediately grabbed her hands, bringing them to his lips and gently blowing hot breath over her fingers. Once, while crying hysterically, I had begged him to explain why he fell for her instead of me. His answer? He said I was always so obsessed with working and grinding that I acted like a bitter, exhausted old man. He said that only a delicate, dramatic, high-maintenance girl like Claire could actually make him feel like he was in love. “I had a little too much champagne. Henry, you have to drive me home.” Claire happily slid into the passenger seat of the bright red Ferrari idling by the curb. I flared with anger. “Get out of that car! Henry drove that car here to drop me off for my date with Collin, which means he is responsible for driving me home! And for the record, I was the one who bought that car for him years ago!” “Let Henry choose who he wants to drive,” Claire pouted. As she leaned past me to close the door, she dropped her voice to a vicious, venomous whisper. “You lose again, you pathetic tomboy. You can throw all the money in the world at Henry, but you can’t buy his love. And honestly? Even if you stripped naked and threw yourself at Collin Sterling, he still wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” And just like she predicted, Henry chose her. He slid into the driver’s seat, revved the engine, and peeled out into the night. Right at that exact second, three massive, heavily tattooed bouncers burst out of the club across the street. They grabbed me roughly by the hair and demanded payment for a massive bar tab. “Your little sister skipped out on her bill! She told us to come find you! Pay up right now, or else…” They flashed disgusting, predatory smiles, their filthy, heavy hands violently gripping my arms and shoulders. I immediately started screaming. “Let go of me! Henry! Help!” Henry’s Ferrari hadn’t made it very far down the street. I knew for an absolute fact that he could clearly see me being assaulted in his rearview mirror. But he didn’t hit the brakes. He slowed down for a fraction of a second, and then aggressively stomped on the gas and disappeared. It was exactly like our relationship. He abandoned me without a second of hesitation. He chose Claire, my absolute worst enemy in the world, leaving me to cry myself to sleep and become the laughingstock of everyone who hated me. “Stop screaming. Why don’t you come inside and play with us for a bit…” The bouncer’s breath smelled like stale beer and vomit. He leaned his repulsive face aggressively close to mine, his greasy hands refusing to let go of my suit jacket. My patience completely shattered. I reached into my designer tote bag, pulled out the heavy, hard-cover leather binder holding my business plans, and started violently smashing it into their faces. The sharp edges of the heavy paper sliced into their skin. My sudden, explosive burst of adrenaline and pure rage forced them to stumble backward. When I finally turned around, panting and shaking, I saw Collin’s matte black Rolls-Royce parked silently at the end of the block. The exact second I fought the bouncers off, the Rolls-Royce quietly pulled away and merged into traffic. He had sat there and watched the entire thing happen, and he actively chose to do absolutely nothing. A crushing wave of exhaustion and total defeat swallowed me whole. I finally accepted the brutal reality. I simply did not possess the kind of charm required to make a man like him fall for me. But I still desperately needed to use this fake “crush” as a Trojan horse to secure his venture capital. If I could just convince him to drop Henry and back my stealth startup, I could violently flip the board. I could crush Henry, crush Claire, and step directly on my father’s neck. But I never expected my violent street brawl with the bouncers to be caught on camera by a bystander. The video was uploaded to Twitter, and within hours, it was trending at number one. #BillionaireHeiressGoesRabid, Allegedly Dumped By Fiancé# The tabloids were absolutely tearing into my history with Henry. They wrote dramatic articles about how the wealthy princess groomed the poor boy, only for the poor boy to strike it rich and dump her because she was a boring, washed-up hag… Smack! Henry slammed a massive stack of printed tabloid articles onto my desk. “The front pages, the trending hashtags, every single outlet is calling me a heartless, gold-digging bastard! Cathy, you know we are in the middle of a massive funding round to take the company public! Did you seriously pay PR firms to launch a smear campaign against me?!” I let out a loud, mocking laugh. “If you don’t want people to call you a monster, maybe don’t act like one. The tabloids are spot on. I bled myself dry for ten years to build you up. What exactly did you give me in return?” Henry knew he was entirely in the wrong, but his face remained perfectly cold and arrogant. “You asked me to help you seduce Collin, and I agreed. But he isn’t interested in you. What exactly do you want me to do about it?” “It means you aren’t trying hard enough! You need to step it up.” I grabbed him by his expensive silk tie, aggressively pulling him down to my level. “At the spring charity auction tomorrow, I am going to buy him a gift. If I see something I want, I don’t care if you have to bankrupt yourself bidding against the entire room, you are going to win it for me.” 3 The charity auction was packed with the city’s absolute elite. And Collin Sterling was there. He was seated high above the crowd, occupying the center VIP box on the second floor. I was sitting in the very front row, flanked by Henry and Claire. Because of my prime seat, I had a perfect view of the stage. And when the very first item was brought out, I completely froze. It was a piece of jewelry designed by my mother thirty years ago. “…The late Mrs. Cathy Senior was an internationally renowned master jeweler. Her early pieces are fiercely hoarded by global collectors. Tonight, we are incredibly honored to auction a vintage pair of her butterfly earrings…” I started bidding like an absolute madwoman. But every single time I raised my paddle, Claire instantly threw out a higher number, clearly doing it just to antagonize me. “Help me!” I shot a desperate glare at Henry. “You promised! You said you would bid until the room burned down to get me what I wanted!” Henry glanced nervously at Claire, who was looking at the earrings with greedy, obsessive eyes. He lowered his voice, rejecting me. “I promised to help you buy a gift for Collin. Do you really think Collin is going to wear vintage diamond earrings? Stop being ridiculous.” I was burning with anxiety. Every single drop of liquid cash I had was tied up in running my secret startup. I didn’t have the personal funds to survive a bidding war. In the end, Claire won the auction and took home my mother’s masterpiece. “Ugh, the wings on this butterfly are way too big. I hate it.” Claire pulled a pair of tiny cuticle scissors from her designer purse. Without a second of hesitation, she violently snipped the delicate, hollowed gold filigree. Two massive, flawless diamonds snapped off and rolled across the carpet. I jumped up, horrified. “Are you out of your mind?! That is a museum-quality piece! Why the hell did you destroy it?!” “I bought it with my own money. I can do whatever the hell I want with it.” Claire giggled maliciously. She grabbed the remaining pieces of the earrings, violently bent the gold out of shape, and tossed the mangled metal onto the floor like garbage. Quiet, mocking laughter rippled through the surrounding rows. “Claire is doing that on purpose to put Cathy in her place.” “Exactly. Cathy’s mother stubbornly refused to divorce the old man, forcing Claire to grow up as a bastard child. Her mother was a notorious home-wrecker.” “Well, Claire is the one on top now. Ask anyone in the city who the favorite daughter is, and they will tell you it’s Claire. Word on the street is Henry is obsessed with her too. The second they get married, Cathy is going to be kicked out of the family empire permanently.” “Cathy is so pathetic. She doesn’t even have the cash to bid, so she just has to sit there and watch her dead mother’s jewelry get turned into scrap…” My heart was bleeding out. I sat there, completely paralyzed, watching the masterpiece my mother had spent countless sleepless nights hand-crafting be reduced to absolute trash. Up on the stage, the auctioneer brought out a new item. “An early nineteenth-century Breguet tourbillon pocket watch. Bidding starts at one million…” From the second-floor VIP box, Collin threw out the very first bid, instantly raising the price to three million. It was obvious he actually wanted the watch. I immediately raised my paddle. Collin and I went back and forth, driving the price all the way up to twenty million. Sitting next to me, Henry’s face was turning black with rage. Claire, completely oblivious to the arrangement, sneered at me. “Stop pretending to be a big shot. Do you even have the money to pay for that?” Just as Collin casually threw out a bid for thirty million, I stood up and screamed at the top of my lungs: “Whatever he bids, I will double it!” The entire ballroom erupted into chaotic gasps. No one could believe I had the kind of financial firepower to aggressively outbid Collin Sterling, the wealthiest man in the city. My next sentence pushed the absolute insanity of the room into overdrive. “Put it on Henry’s tab. I am buying this watch for Collin.” Jaws literally hit the floor. The entire crowd watched in stunned silence as I pulled Henry’s matte black Amex from my purse, swiped it for the watch, and commanded the auction staff to hand-deliver it to Collin’s VIP box on the second floor, along with a massive bouquet of red roses. By sunset, the story of me using Henry’s money to aggressively court Collin Sterling had completely nuked the high society gossip channels. That evening, I was dressed to kill. But the second I stepped into the sprawling, marble-floored garage, Henry lunged out from the shadows and blocked my path. “Do you have any idea what people are calling me right now?! They are calling me the ultimate, pathetic cuckold! They say I am literally funding my fiancée’s affair!” I gave him a slow, sideways glance. “It’s still a massive upgrade from being called a heartless bastard. I just took the heat off you by making the entire city think I am the one cheating. Shouldn’t you be on your knees thanking me?” Henry ground his teeth together, forcing out a cold, venomous sneer. “You spent thirty million dollars of my money. Did it actually work? Is he happy?” I unlocked my phone screen and lazily waved it in front of his face. “Take a look. Ten minutes ago, Collin sent me a text. ‘Tonight. 8:00 PM. The Presidential Suite at the Grand Plaza Hotel.’” All the color violently drained from Henry’s face. He looked like a corpse. I reached out and arrogantly patted him on the cheek. “What are you standing around for? Get in the driver’s seat. You have to drop me off for my date with Collin.” 4 I was absolutely convinced that Collin had been moved by my grand, thirty-million-dollar gesture. I had spent the afternoon putting together an incredibly aggressive, highly detailed business prospectus. I was going to convince him to fund my startup tonight. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Henry kept violently shifting his eyes to the rearview mirror to glare at me. Suddenly, he snapped, “Why the hell did he pick the Grand Plaza Hotel?” I froze for a second. Then it hit me. The Grand Plaza was the exact hotel where Henry and I were supposed to hold our wedding reception. Our wedding date was scheduled for next Thursday. The invitations had already been mailed out. I had spent hundreds of thousands on artisan wedding favors and dropped over a million dollars customizing the ballroom decor. And right now, the groom was driving me to that exact hotel so I could sleep with another man. I let out a cold, empty laugh. “Why do you even care? The beach right under this overpass is where we had our first real date. Five years ago, I almost drowned trying to save those two kids who got pulled out by the riptide.” “The paramedics literally pronounced me dead on the sand. But you refused to accept it. You did CPR and chest compressions until your hands were bleeding, and I actually came back to life.” “When I opened my eyes, the very first thing I saw was you sobbing. I swore to myself right then and there that I would love you until the day I died…” Back then, Henry and I had literally survived death together. But talking about it now just left a disgusting, rotting taste in my mouth. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. You forgot about it years ago. The rock we used to sit on has probably eroded into the ocean by now anyway.” Henry had been dead silent. Suddenly, he violently slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. He whipped the steering wheel, launching the sports car off the highway exit and speeding directly toward the beach underneath the overpass. I panicked. “Are you insane?! I am going to be late! Take me to the hotel!” Henry’s dark eyes were wild and unhinged. “Didn’t you just say you wanted to visit the beach and take a walk down memory lane? If you didn’t want to go, why the hell did you bring it up?!” The radio was blaring emergency weather alerts. A massive Category 4 hurricane was scheduled to make landfall in less than an hour. The authorities were begging people to stay off the roads. I screamed at him. I told him he was a complete psychopath for driving to the ocean in the middle of a hurricane. He drifted the car onto the wet sand, slammed it into park, and violently dragged me out of the passenger seat, demanding that we go look for the rock where we fell in love. The sky above the ocean was a suffocating, bruised purple. Massive, terrifying waves were crashing onto the shore. The hurricane sirens in the distance began to wail. “You’re right! I am a psychopath! Why are you pulling these disgusting, twisted games just to trigger me?! When you told me to help you seduce Collin, I wanted to take a knife and gut him!” he roared over the sound of the wind. I sneered at him, my voice dripping with venom. “Stop acting! The only reason you agreed to help me is because I promised to sign away my inheritance rights!” “Your ultimate fantasy is for me to get permanently exiled from the family empire. You are just waiting for my father to drop dead so you and Claire can swallow the entire conglomerate…” “Shut up!” Henry’s eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. He grabbed my face with both hands, pulling me so close I could feel his frantic, desperate breath on my lips. It felt like pure agony mixed with terrifying obsession. “You don’t understand me at all. The truth is, I… I actually…” “You actually what?” For some reason, my heart started to race. Right at that exact second, his phone started ringing. The name Claire-Pad flashed brightly across the screen. Henry hesitated for barely a second before he answered the call. The heavy, intense, suffocating tension between us instantly evaporated into the freezing wind. I knew it. I knew this was exactly how it was going to play out. And the next thirty seconds were painfully predictable. Claire was crying, saying she was absolutely terrified of the thunder, demanding that Henry come over immediately to hold her. “You can’t. Your job right now is to drop me off at Collin’s hotel.” I spoke loudly, making sure she could hear me. The second Claire heard my voice, she started sobbing hysterically. “Henry, I am so scared! Oh my god, I just fell down! I think my leg is broken! Henry, you have to come take me to the emergency room, please…” Her acting was offensively terrible. But Henry bought it instantly. He turned toward the car, preparing to speed off to her apartment. “What about me?! Collin is waiting! How the hell am I supposed to catch a cab out here in a literal hurricane?!” I screamed at him, furious. Henry stopped and looked me dead in the eyes. His voice was completely serious. “I am done playing this pathetic game with you, Cathy. You are never going to get Collin.” “The women who throw themselves at him are A-list celebrities, Miss Universe winners, foreign royalty… Cathy, you don’t stand a chance in hell. You are a complete zero to him.” “Besides, the only reason you are doing this is to make me angry, right? Congratulations, you did it. Now drop it. I am absolutely not letting you see Collin tonight.” He gave me one final, dark look. And then, he actually abandoned me on the beach. He got into the Ferrari and sped off to save Claire’s “broken leg.” The hurricane was moving in incredibly fast. The freezing wind sliced through my thin silk dress, chilling me to the bone. My heart turned to pure, dead ash. From this moment forward, the only emotion I would ever feel for Henry was absolute, unadulterated hatred. The wind was deafening. If I stayed on the beach, I was going to die. But the gale-force winds were so strong I couldn’t even stand up straight. I couldn’t move a single inch. Just as I accepted that I was going to freeze to death on the sand, a massive, black helicopter cut through the storm, flying aggressively against the hurricane-force winds directly toward me. It looked like a tiny, violently shaking boat in a massive tsunami. Terrifying, but incredibly resolute. The side door slid open. A man leaned out and extended his hand toward me. The violent wind whipped his hair around, but I could clearly see his striking, elegant features and piercing eyes. It was Collin Sterling. He looked down at me and said, “I accept your offer. Now get in.”

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The scholarship student my parents sponsored led the charge in bullying me. She locked me in a bathroom stall, dumped freezing dirty water over my head, and took degrading photos of me stripped down to my underwear. When I knelt crying on the floor, clutching my medical report and an audio recording, begging my parents to call the police, they confiscated my phone. They did it for the sake of their laughable public image. “Audrey, Riley comes from a dirt-poor family. This is just kids messing around. If we involve the cops, the press will say the District Attorney is throwing his weight around, destroying a disadvantaged kid’s future.” “You are our daughter. You need to look at the bigger picture. To avoid any conflict of interest, we are settling this privately. You are going to sign a formal statement of forgiveness.” I stared at that piece of paper, filled with words about grace and maturity, in absolute disbelief. “She ruined me, and you’re afraid of ruining her?” “Is she your real daughter?” Later, I saw a post on Riley’s Instagram. The picture showed my parents treating her to a massive seafood feast I had been begging to go to for months. The caption read: “My godparents say some entitled brats just need to be put in their place.” In that exact moment, my heart turned to ash. 1 “Smile for the camera, Audrey! Aren’t your parents big-shot lawyers?” “Call them! Let’s see if the almighty DA saves his precious daughter, or if he protects his favorite charity case.” The stall door was kicked open. A bucket of ice water, reeking of cigarette ash and bleach, washed over my head. I curled up next to the toilet. My clothes clung to my shivering skin. Riley shoved her phone right into my face. The camera flash blinded me, burning into my retinas. I bit down on my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. That night, I knelt on the cold marble floor of our living room. I held my medical report in one hand and a voice recorder in the other. “Dad, Mom, I need to file a police report. Riley took photos of me in my underwear…” “Shut your mouth.” Victoria sat perfectly upright in her tailored designer suit. She held a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea, not even bothering to look up. “Go change your clothes. You smell like a dumpster. Look at the state of you.” I jerked my head up. The hard floor was grinding into my kneecaps, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the shock. “Mom, this is proof! She held my head near the bowl! She’s threatening to post the pictures online…” My dad sat in the center of the plush leather sofa, rolling an unlit cigar between his fingers. He finally looked at me. His eyes were like dead stones. “Audrey. Hand me the phone.” My hands shook violently as I offered it to him. Without missing a beat, he powered it down, popped the SIM card out, and tossed it right into the heavy crystal ashtray on the coffee table. “As of today, your phone is confiscated. You are grounded. Stay in your room and reflect on your behavior.” I shot to my feet. “Are you insane? I am the victim! Dad, just listen to the tape! Listen to what she said to me…” “I said, shut your mouth!” Richard slammed his fist onto the coffee table. The teacups rattled. He stood up, towering over me. “Call the cops? Do you have any idea what that means?” “How do you think the media will spin it? The arrogant daughter of the District Attorney bullies a poor scholarship girl and ruins her future.” “Riley’s family has nothing. Her father is paralyzed. She is the city’s poster child for overcoming adversity.” “Do you want to throw away everything we’ve built just because your feelings got hurt?” My jaw dropped. My throat felt like sandpaper. No words would come out. My feelings got hurt? I was stripped, photographed, and humiliated. And to him, it was just a minor inconvenience. My mother set her tea down and walked over. “Audrey, be reasonable. We are public figures. Thousands of eyes are watching our every move.” “Riley has had a hard life. Maybe she acted a bit aggressively, but she’s just crying out for attention.” “You are older. You need to show some grace. To keep our hands clean, this gets buried. Tonight.” She pulled a crisp sheet of paper from her leather briefcase and slid it onto the table. Statement of Forgiveness. Party A: Audrey. Party B: Riley. Terms: An acknowledgment of roughhousing between classmates. I agree to drop the matter and waive all rights to pursue legal action. Dad handed me his Montblanc fountain pen. “Sign it. Don’t make us force your hand.” I stared at the pen. I had saved up for months to buy it for him when he got promoted to Chief DA. “And if I don’t?” Dad let out a short, cold laugh. “If you don’t? I will pull you out of school and ship you off to your grandfather’s cabin upstate.” “As long as I run this district, no precinct will touch your case. No one will cross me.” These were my parents. To protect their pristine political feathers, to maintain their fake philanthropy, they were willing to feed their own flesh and blood to the wolves. My fingers trembled as I took the pen. The nib scratched harshly against the paper. I signed my name. Mom smiled, clearly satisfied. She folded the paper neatly. “That’s my girl. I knew you’d understand. You must be starving. Let me go fix dinner.” “Don’t bother.” I pushed myself off the floor. My legs were numb. Back in my room, I dug out an old backup iPad from the bottom of a drawer. Half an hour later, an Instagram notification popped up. It was from Riley. A photo carousel. Massive Alaskan king crab legs. Maine lobster tails. Two hands clinking champagne glasses. One hand wore my mother’s signature diamond ring. The other wore my father’s Rolex. Location tag: The Oceanaire Room. Caption: “My godparents treating me to calm my nerves. Some entitled brats just need to be put in their place. Thank you Mom and Dad! Love you!” I stared at the screen. My stomach did a violent flip. Mom didn’t go to the kitchen to fix dinner. She had a reservation booked the entire time. They were throwing a victory dinner for my abuser. I bolted to my bathroom and threw up until my ribs ached. The girl in the mirror was pale as a ghost, a bruise already blooming on her jawline. And on the screen, the three of them looked like a perfect, happy family. If they loved their little charity case so much. Then I guess they didn’t need a real daughter anymore. 2 The sky was barely gray when I woke up. I dragged my dusty suitcase from under the bed and unzipped it. My closet was stuffed with designer labels. Prada, Gucci, Chanel. All bought by my mother to make me look like a proper DA’s kid. I didn’t touch a single piece. I packed a few faded vintage tees and two pairs of worn-out denim jeans. I smashed my porcelain piggy bank with a heavy book. It held about three hundred dollars in crumpled bills and coins. When I lugged the suitcase downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and bacon filled the air. Mom was untying her apron. She frowned the second she saw me. “What are you doing dragging that thing around at six in the morning? The noise is unbearable.” Dad was reading the morning paper at the island counter. He didn’t look up. “Put the bag away and eat your breakfast. Riley is coming over this afternoon. Don’t ruin the mood with that miserable look on your face.” Riley. He practically said her name with affection. I left my suitcase by the front door and stood in the entryway. “I’m not eating. And I am never looking at her face again.” Mom slammed a plate onto the granite counter. “Audrey! What kind of tantrum is this? We settled this last night.” “Riley apologized. You signed the paper. We are turning the page.” “Why are you being so vindictive?” “Vindictive?” I tapped my temple with my index finger. “Mom. I have a mild concussion.” “She has pictures of me stripped down on her phone, and you two bought her lobster.” “Is this your idea of the bigger picture?” Dad slammed his newspaper down. His face turned an ugly shade of red. “You’re stalking our social media now?” “She posted it on a public feed. That’s the whole point.” “Enough!” Dad stood up, pointing a thick finger at the front door. “You want to walk out? Fine! Let’s see how far you get!” “If you walk through that door, you stay gone. I will act like I never had a daughter.” “Leave the credit cards, the keys, and whatever cash you have on you.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out the heavy brass house key, and tossed it onto the shoe cabinet. It made a sharp, metallic clink. “You took my phone last night.” “I don’t have your plastic. It’s in my desk.” “As for this house…” I took one last look at the crystal chandeliers and the imported rugs. “Give my room to Riley. She’s clearly cut from the same rotten cloth as you two.” “You ungrateful little bitch!” Mom snatched her hot coffee mug and hurled it at my head. It shattered against the doorframe. Boiling coffee splashed my jacket, and a sharp shard of ceramic sliced across my cheek. A warm line of blood trickled down my jaw. “And one more thing. Stop pretending you do anything for my sake.” “The only things you love are yourselves and your fake public image.” I grabbed the handle of my suitcase, pushed the heavy oak door open, and stepped into the cold morning air. Dad’s roar echoed behind me. “Get out! Let her freeze! Give her three days, and she’ll be crawling back on her knees!” I didn’t look back. Three days? I wouldn’t beg them for a drop of water if I were dying of thirst. I found a cramped, illegal basement apartment in the rundown east side of the city. I had just dropped my bag onto the concrete floor when my iPad buzzed. An incoming FaceTime call from an unknown email. I hesitated, then swiped to accept. Riley’s smug face filled the screen. The background was my living room. She was lounging on my custom velvet beanbag chair, the one nobody else was allowed to sit on. She was spinning my limited-edition anime figure in her hands. “Hey there, big sis. Heard you ran away from home?” Her voice was dripping with fake sweetness. “Mom says you threw a massive fit. Told me to just ignore your drama.” “This little toy is pretty cute though. Mom said I could keep it. You don’t mind, do you?” Snap. She twisted her hands, violently snapping the figure’s head off. She covered her mouth in mock horror. “Oops. My hand slipped. You’re not mad, are you?” My mother’s voice drifted in from the background. “Riley, honey, leave that garbage alone. Throw it in the trash. I’ll buy you a better one.” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the edges of the iPad. I saved up my allowance for six months to buy that figure. It was the only thing in that suffocating house that brought me any joy. I took a deep breath and forced a dead, chilling smile. “I don’t mind at all.” “Trash belongs with trash. It suits you.” “Oh, and by the way. I used to let a stray dog sleep on that beanbag. It pissed all over the filling.” Riley’s face warped into disgust. She vaulted off the chair like it was on fire. “You’re lying! They don’t even own a dog!” “Believe what you want.” I cut the call. Staring at my black reflection on the screen, I slid down the dirty wall until I hit the floor. My stomach growled fiercely. The real nightmare was just beginning. 3 I filed for a temporary leave of absence at the university. My academic advisor took one look at my bruised face and my medical report, sighed heavily, and processed the paperwork without asking questions. Without a degree, my options were trash. I took a graveyard shift at a sketchy gas station convenience store and spent my days doing cheap freelance translation online. By the third day, the fever hit. I needed antibiotics, but my bank account had exactly thirty dollars left. I chugged tap water and forced down some expired cold medicine I found in my jacket pocket. As long as I kept breathing, I was going to stick around to watch their empire burn. Half a month later, I had to go back to campus to pick up some administrative paperwork. My backpack held my beat-up laptop and my ID documents. I had barely reached the steps of the main library when a group surrounded me. “Well, well. If it isn’t the disgraced DA’s daughter.” Riley stood at the top of the concrete steps, looking down at me like I was a rat. She was wrapped in a cream-colored cashmere coat. I recognized it. My mother bought it in Paris last month. “What are you wearing? Did you fish those jeans out of a dumpster?” Riley trotted down the steps and pinched the sleeve of my faded hoodie. “This is so pathetic. Mom told me you were whoring yourself out on the streets, but I didn’t believe her.” “I guess it’s true. You can’t even afford decent clothes.” A crowd of students started gathering, whispering and pointing. I slapped her hand away and glared at her. “Did you steal that coat, or did you beg for it?” Riley’s face twitched, but she immediately cranked up the volume. “What are you talking about! Mom lent this to me!” “I’m representing the university at the State Debate Championship. She didn’t want me catching a cold.” Her eyes darted around. Suddenly, she lunged forward and grabbed the straps of my backpack. “Wait a minute! I just realized I’m missing a hundred-dollar bill!” “You stole it! You’re broke and desperate, and you were lurking right next to me!” “Search her! Check her bag!” Her little groupies instantly closed in. I hugged my backpack to my chest. “Back off! I didn’t take your damn money!” In the scuffle, Riley’s manicured acrylic nails dragged hard across the back of my hand. The skin split open. Blood welled up instantly. “What is going on here!” The Dean of Students pushed through the crowd, looking panicked. And walking right behind him, carrying thermal soup containers, were my parents. They had come to bring their pet project a hot lunch. Mom shoved past me, practically knocking me over, and pulled Riley into a protective hug. “Riley, sweetie, what happened? Are you hurt?” Dad marched right up to me. “Audrey! How long are you going to humiliate this family?” “Sneaking onto campus to steal money? You are a complete disgrace!” I held up my bleeding hand. “Mr. District Attorney. Which eye did you use to see me steal anything?” “I thought your job required evidence. Or do you just skip right to the conviction without a trial?” Dad’s face flushed dark purple. “Then why would Riley single you out? Out of everyone here, she pointed at you.” “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. You’ve clearly hit rock bottom.” Riley buried her face in my mother’s expensive blouse, faking a sob. “Dad, maybe I misplaced it… but Audrey was acting so aggressive…” “It’s okay, honey. I’ll handle this.” Mom glared at me with absolute venom. “Open the bag, Audrey. Let everyone see what’s inside. Prove your innocence.” “If you didn’t take it, you apologize to Riley for causing a scene, and we’ll let this go.” Looking at my parents acting like benevolent gods, my stomach churned. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the zipper of my backpack, ripped it open, and flipped the whole bag upside down. Crash. Notebooks, chargers, cheap pens, and my old sticker-covered laptop spilled onto the concrete. My frayed wallet hit the ground. A few crumpled one-dollar bills fluttered out. “Look at it! Where is the hundred dollars?” My eyes burned with rage as I pointed at the mess. “Search it! Isn’t that what you wanted? Search me!” The crowd went dead silent. Riley shrank back, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Then… maybe I left it in the lecture hall.” “You ‘left it’?” I took a step toward her. “You publicly accused me of theft, incited a mob to search my property, and physically assaulted me. Isn’t that harassment?” “Enough!” Dad barked out the order. He noticed the growing ring of students holding up their smartphones. His jaw tightened. He marched over and clamped his hand around my wrist like a vice. “Stop acting like a lunatic and get in the car.” He dropped his voice to a menacing hiss. “We will talk about this at home. Stop putting on a show for these peasants.” Mom caught on quickly. She plastered a fake, polished smile on her face for the crowd. “Teenage rebellion, you know how it is. Nothing to see here, kids. Let’s clear the area.” They flanked me, grabbing both my arms, trying to physically drag me toward the black Audi A6 idling by the gates. I dug my heels in and grabbed onto a metal handrail. “I’m not going anywhere! Let go of me!” Dad leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “If you don’t stop making a scene, I will have you committed to a psychiatric ward before the sun goes down.” A psych ward. To protect his reputation, he was perfectly willing to lock his own daughter in a mental asylum. I let out a dry, cracked laugh. “You care about your optics?” I sucked in a massive breath and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Help! Someone help me! The District Attorney is trying to kill me! My parents are trying to silence me!” Every single person froze. The campus security guards popped out of their booths, looking terrified. Dad’s face drained of all color. He instinctively let go of my arm like it was on fire. “Are you insane!” He roared, veins popping on his forehead. Mom panicked, her perfect political wife mask completely shattering. “Audrey, stop lying! When have we ever hurt you?” I didn’t give her a second to recover. I pointed straight at the Audi. “You’re dragging me to the car so you can lock me away and threaten me where no one can hear!” “Just like the night you forced me to sign that NDA!” “You covered up Riley’s abuse to save your own political careers! You forced me to kneel and apologize to my own bully!” “And now that I’ve escaped, you hunt me down at school to frame me for stealing?” The crowd erupted. “Wait, what NDA?” “The abuse rumors were real?” “Did she just say her parents covered it up?” Hundreds of judging eyes locked onto Richard and Victoria. Dad’s hands were shaking. He wanted to strangle me, but the sea of glowing camera lenses held him back. He stared at me, his eyes filled with pure hatred. “Audrey. If you don’t get in that car right now, I will freeze every asset tied to your name. You will never set foot in a classroom again.” I smirked, reaching into my hoodie pocket. I pulled out my cheap folding boxcutter. Click. “Don’t take another step.” I pressed the blade lightly against my own neck. The crowd gasped in horror. Mom shrieked. “Audrey! What are you doing! Put that down!” “Are you scared?” “You’re not scared I’ll die. You’re scared I’ll bleed out right here and ruin your shiny election campaign.” “Richard. Victoria. Listen very carefully.” “As of this exact second, I have no parents.” “Whatever debt I owed you for bringing me into this world, I paid in full the night you forced me to sign away my dignity.” “Now take your fake charity daughter, and get the hell out of my sight.” I pressed the blade just a millimeter deeper. The skin broke. A single drop of crimson blood rolled down my collarbone.

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The night my best friend debuted at the Met, Nolan locked me in our room. He was terrified the livestream would trigger another breakdown. Hearing the roaring applause from the tablet, I bit my lip until blood came. Five years ago, the car crashed. I shielded him, but he shoved me aside to protect Rebecca. I had been safe. That push slammed me into a steel rebar that pierced both thighs. At nineteen, I became paralyzed from the pelvis down. Five years of relentless phantom pain followed. A waking nightmare. Today, as the agony flared, I begged Nolan for relief. Still watching Rebecca onscreen, he sneered, “Hurts? Go die. Five years and you still whine. Do I look like a fool?” He threw potassium chloride at me and pinned my wrists. “Tonight is Rebecca’s comeback. Must you ruin it with self-pity?” “Try it,” I said. “Push that, and I’m gone in minutes.” His phone rang. It was Rebecca. His glare melted as he stepped out to answer. I looked at the syringe. With my own hands, I ended what little hope remained and pressed the needle into my vein. He never meant to kill me. But I was truly finished with living. 1 The moment the potassium chloride entered my bloodstream, I didn’t feel immediate pain. Just a suffocating tightness in my chest, like an invisible hand slowly crushing my heart from the inside out. The syringe was completely empty. Not a single drop left. I calmly pulled the needle out, twisted the safety cap back on, and dropped it into the medical sharps container. Inch by inch, I dragged my torso across the floor into the master bathroom. Outside the door, I could hear Nolan laughing on FaceTime with Rebecca. He praised her flawless routine. She playfully demanded he treat her to a late-night supper to celebrate. “You guys go ahead. I’ll pass.” “She is… she’s having a bad day.” His voice was drenched in exhaustion. After the crash five years ago, Nolan turned down a prestigious fellowship. His mentor screamed at him over the phone for forty minutes, calling him a waste of brilliant surgical talent. Nolan didn’t argue back. He hung up and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in the hospital hallway. Then he sold his downtown condo, moved us into a cramped two-thousand-a-month apartment, and took endless graveyard shifts in the ER just to cover my medical bills. My vision started to tunnel. Using the last ounce of my strength, I fumbled through my wheelchair bag and pulled out a watch. A gift I always meant to give him, but never found the right moment. With a trembling hand, I scrawled three words on the bathroom mirror using my lipstick. ‘Not your fault.’ The watch slipped from my grip, clattering against the tiles and rolling into a dark corner. My consciousness began to detach. The stained bathroom ceiling morphed into the starry dome of the Metropolitan Theater. I was standing in the center of the stage again. Wearing that diamond-studded contemporary ballet costume with the flowing silk ribbons. My legs were long, powerful. I pushed off the tips of my toes and launched into a flawless triple pirouette. My final thought was terrifyingly clear. Nolan wouldn’t have to work night shifts for my nerve meds anymore. His hands would stop trembling. Rebecca could finally stand by his side without guilt. Everyone was finally free. When my awareness reformed, I was floating near the bathroom ceiling. I looked down at myself. Slumped against the edge of the bathtub. Skin an ashen gray, lips tinted a deep purple. My arms were locked mid-air, forever frozen in a graceful ballet pose. The empty pant legs of my sweatpants draped pathetically over the tiles like discarded props. The front doorbell rang. I drifted out of the bathroom, passing right through the solid wood of the bedroom door. In the living room, Rebecca was walking in arm-in-arm with Nolan’s mother, beaming with pride. She was still wearing her silver stage costume, her makeup immaculate. She practically reeked of fresh roses and standing ovations. Eleanor patted Rebecca’s hand, absolutely gushing. “You were spectacular tonight! Three standing ovations! Even the arts critics were raving about you.” Rebecca offered a perfectly modest smile. “I just followed the choreographer’s vision. The instructors really guided me.” Choreographer’s vision? Those choreography notes for that specific solo were written by me. I spent three agonizing months staying up late in my wheelchair to perfect them. Arthur, Nolan’s father, walked in behind them carrying an expensive bottle of eighteen-year-old Macallan. The whole family happily crowded into the kitchen to prep a celebration dinner. Nolan took charge of chopping the vegetables. Rebecca naturally stepped up right beside him to help. They moved in perfect sync. When she handed him the salt, her fingers brushed against his. Neither of them pulled away. Nolan paused his chopping. “Rebecca, that final suspended leap with the ribbons tonight was beautiful. The power for that movement comes from the shoulder blades, not the wrists, right?” Rebecca froze for a split second, then smiled and nodded. Floating near the ceiling, a phantom ache throbbed where my heart used to be. The secret behind that specific leap was something I taught all my students back in the day. 2 Only Nolan remembered. Eleanor walked out of the kitchen carrying a fruit platter. She glanced at our closed bedroom door and scowled. “Where is Avery? It’s the biggest night of Rebecca’s career, and she can’t even come out to say congratulations?” Nolan’s knife stopped moving. “We had a bit of an argument this afternoon. She’s resting.” Eleanor slammed the platter onto the dining table. “Throwing a tantrum again? It’s been five years! She screams about leg pain every single day. She doesn’t even have legs anymore, what is there to hurt?” “You are a brilliant attending surgeon, and she’s dragging you down so hard you can barely step into an operating room!” I wanted to speak. I wanted to say, I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was dead. But the moment the words left my lips, they dissolved into nothingness. Arthur sighed, leaning back into the sofa with his whiskey glass. “She used to be so glorious on stage. Remember when we sat in the front row for her opening night? Those were the days.” “Who could have known… honestly, it might have been a mercy if she had just passed away in that crash.” Rebecca poured a cup of tea and handed it to Nolan, her voice soft and soothing. “Don’t let Eleanor’s words get to you. She just cares about you.” “Avery’s condition… it really is a heavy burden on everyone.” She paused, dropping her voice to a whisper. “When was the last time you actually smiled?” Nolan stared at the cutting board. He swallowed hard but said nothing. Rebecca reached out and placed her hand over his. Nolan didn’t pull away. Looking at them standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the warm, yellow light of the kitchen, an overwhelming sourness flooded my soul. But I smiled anyway. I could never give him this kind of warm, normal domestic life again. The celebration dinner officially began. In the center of the table sat a custom cake decorated with a sugar-sculpted ballerina wrapped in white ribbons. I wanted to get a closer look at the little figure. Just as my ghostly fingers reached out, Rebecca cheerfully sliced right through it. She scooped the figurine onto her plate and bit off one of its sugar ribbon arms. “This is gorgeous. This pose is from my absolute favorite solo piece.” Nolan’s eyes locked onto the broken ribbon arm on her plate. His lips trembled slightly. Rebecca noticed his shift in mood. “What’s wrong? Is it too sweet?” Nolan looked down. “It’s nothing.” He picked up the broken piece of sugar ribbon, placed it on his own saucer, and left it untouched. I was stunned. Did he remember something? Before I could process it, Eleanor pulled a thick document from her designer purse and slapped it onto the dining table. “I already got Avery’s signature.” I recognized that signature. It was my handwriting, but I never signed a divorce paper. Then it hit me. Two months ago, my own mother visited me and asked me to sign some paperwork, claiming it was for transferring the deed to our old family house. That document had been a divorce settlement. Nolan picked up the papers, flipping through them page by page. Under the asset division section, it explicitly stated that I willingly forfeited all joint marital assets and future medical alimony. Rebecca spoke up right on cue, her tone gentle and persuasive. “Nolan, signing this doesn’t mean you’re abandoning her.” “I can use all my performance bonuses to cover her physical therapy from now on.” “I just want you to start living your life again. Johns Hopkins still has that fellowship spot open for you.” Arthur set his whiskey down. He looked at Nolan’s visibly shaking hands. “You know exactly what a surgeon’s hands mean. If you keep living under this stress, you won’t even be able to hold a suture needle.” Nolan’s hand hovered over the table, gripping a pen. He stared at that crooked, shaky signature for a long, long time. Suddenly, he spoke. His voice was incredibly quiet. “When she signed this, did she know what it was?” The room went dead silent. Eleanor’s expression shifted nervously. Rebecca immediately tried to smooth things over. “Avery wants what’s best for you too. She doesn’t want to be a burden anymore, right, Eleanor?” Eleanor nodded vigorously. “She knows her own situation better than anyone.” Nolan held the pen. The tip hovered over the signature line for three agonizing seconds. Floating right above his head, my nonexistent heart clenched again. Finally, he put the pen down. “Let me think about it.” 3 Eleanor’s face darkened. She looked ready to explode, but Rebecca gently held her arm, giving her a warning look. After dinner, Nolan walked his parents to the door. Before stepping out, Eleanor turned back and hissed in a low voice. “She is going to drag you into an early grave.” Nolan said nothing and gently closed the door. He cleared the dining table alone. He folded the divorce settlement neatly and locked it deep inside a drawer in the TV console. When the living room fell completely silent, Nolan stood perfectly still for a long time. He walked into the kitchen and packed a thermal lunchbox. Crab-roe tofu, steamed bass, and a small bowl of sweet silver ear mushroom soup he had simmered himself. He carried the tray to the bedroom door and knocked three times. “Avery, are you asleep?” Silence. He assumed I was still giving him the silent treatment. He pressed his forehead against the wooden door. His voice was incredibly soft. “I’m sorry. I lost control of my temper this afternoon.” “That potassium chloride… I was out of my mind to do that. When I tossed that syringe at you, my hands were shaking so badly.” A long, heavy silence. He lightly thumped his fist against the wood. “When I drove past the theater today, the billboards were covered with Rebecca’s face. But all I could think about was that it should have been you up there.” He sniffled. “I was reading a paper in the medical journal recently. It’s about transcranial magnetic stimulation for phantom limb pain. The success rate is over sixty-seven percent.” “I already contacted a specialized team in Boston.” He pulled out his phone, scrolled to some screenshots, bent down, and slid them under the crack of the door. “Take a look. I’ve studied the science behind it, the tech is solid. If you’re just willing to try…” His voice broke. He sounded like he was on the verge of crying. “Can you please just give me a little more time?” The bedroom answered with a deathly stillness. His phone alarm buzzed. It was a reminder for an emergency appendectomy he was covering for a colleague tonight. The extra overtime pay would cover my nerve block treatments for next week. He stood up, resting his head against the door one last time. “I’ll bring you your favorite raspberry tart tomorrow morning.” On his way to the front door, he stopped by the TV console, yanked the drawer open, and pulled out the divorce papers. My soul held its breath. He stared at it for a few seconds, then ripped it to shreds and threw the pieces into the trash can. Ten minutes after Nolan left, the front door clicked unlocked. Rebecca walked in using her spare key. She marched straight to the bedroom door and slapped it hard three times. “Avery, I know you’re awake. Are you playing the victim game again?” No answer. She crouched down and pulled the printed medical screenshots out from under the door. She glanced at them, let out a mocking snort, crumpled the papers into a ball, and tossed them into the trash. Then she picked up the thermal lunchbox Nolan had packed and dumped the expensive seafood and soup straight into the garbage disposal. She noticed the torn divorce papers in the trash bin. Meticulously, she fished out the pieces, taped them back together, and laid the restored document flat on the coffee table. Leaning against the bedroom door, her voice turned venomous and quiet. “Do you know what his physical exam showed last month?” “Resting tremors in both hands. Suspected early-onset Parkinson’s.” “A brilliant surgeon, and his hands are shaking. He’s only thirty-three.” “This is all because of you.” My soul felt like it was being strangled. Parkinson’s? He never told me. “You refuse to eat, you refuse to talk, you threaten to kill yourself over every little thing. You think you’re the most tragic person on earth, don’t you?” “Do you ever think about how much he suffers?” “People like you are the most selfish. You always live the longest.” After delivering her poison, she curled up on the living room sofa, scrolling through her phone while waiting for Nolan to return. At two in the morning, the front door opened. Nolan walked in carrying a small pastry box. Seeing Rebecca asleep on the couch, he paused, then quietly draped a blanket over her shoulders. Rebecca woke up, rubbing her eyes. She noticed the pastry box in his hand. “Is that for me?” 4 Nolan shifted the box slightly behind his back. “No. It’s for Avery.” He walked toward the bedroom. Noticing the medical printouts were gone from under the door, he assumed I had pulled them inside to read. A faint look of relief washed over his face. “Baby, I brought you a raspberry tart. It’s still warm. Do you want a bite?” Still no movement inside. He let out a bitter chuckle. “Alright, get some rest. I’ll leave it right here by the door. Come grab it when you’re hungry.” Rebecca watched this with cold eyes. She pushed the taped-up divorce papers across the coffee table. “Why did you tear it up? Are you planning to torture yourself for the rest of your life?” Nolan glanced at her. His voice was low, bone-tired. “I told you. I am never divorzing Avery. Not in this lifetime.” Rebecca’s eyes instantly went red. She stood up abruptly, lunged at him, and pressed her lips forcefully against his. Nolan stumbled backward, but she locked her arms around his neck, refusing to let go. He tried to pry her off, but she was relentless. Frustrated, she intentionally stomped her heel right onto the pastry box sitting on the floor. As his attention splintered, she took advantage to deepen the kiss. Floating in mid-air, watching this unfold, my phantom heart twisted in agony. Nolan clamped his jaw shut tight, took a sharp breath, and shoved her away with brutal force. He didn’t spare a single second to care about Rebecca’s hurt feelings. He immediately dropped to his knees, carefully wiping the dust off the crushed pastry box, his face etched with guilt. Rebecca staggered back. A flash of bitter resentment crossed her face before she quickly morphed it back into a mask of pure grievance. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the spare key to the master bedroom. “You don’t believe me? Fine.” “Go ask her yourself. Ask her what she really wants! Let’s see who is the one dragging this out!” She shoved the key into the lock and twisted it sharply. The door clicked open. A suffocating, sickly-sweet odor, like rusted iron soaked in warm water, billowed out, mixing with the damp humidity of the bathroom. It hit them like a physical blow. Nolan’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. The crushed pastry box slipped from his hands, landing on the floor with a dull thud. He violently shoved Rebecca out of the way and bolted into the room. The bed was empty. The balcony was empty. He kicked the bathroom door open. His shoe splashed into a sticky, half-dried puddle. He looked down. It was a pale yellow fluid, streaked with the unmistakable dark stains of bodily decay.

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To marry into the Manhattan elite, I fabricated my entire existence. I scrubbed away the stench of being a degenerate gambler’s son and molded myself into an Oxford-educated prodigy. But even liars have real hearts. I shed my old skin for one reason alone. I wanted the right to stand beside Victoria Sinclair. I finally breached the gates of high society. I touched the untouchable upper crust. I thought if I worked hard enough, if I became elegant and refined enough, I could stay by her side forever. That was until the always-composed Victoria Sinclair threw a physical fit over a high-school dropout who worked at a hostess club, nearly coming to blows with a major business partner. She bled millions in lost contracts and didn’t even blink. To clean up her mess, I arranged a peace-making dinner with that partner. By pure chance, I heard a familiar voice drifting from the adjacent private dining room. “Victoria, your Mr. Perfect is probably busy wiping your ass right now, isn’t he? Tsk, what a devoted little housewife. Watching him try so hard to play the elite corporate shark just to smooth things over for you almost brings a tear to my eye.” “If you weren’t trying to dodge your family’s arranged marriage, there is no way you would have married a fraud like him.” “He’s a street rat who crawled out of a trailer park. Did he really think putting on a bespoke suit and dropping a few French phrases would actually change his bloodline?” A soft chuckle escaped Victoria’s lips. It was dripping with mockery. She knew. She knew I was faking it this whole time. And she had been faking it, too. 1 Standing outside that mahogany door, my chest felt like it had been hollowed out with a shotgun blast. “I heard his deadbeat dad just got out of prison. Want to make a bet? I give it three months before his old man comes knocking for cash. When that happens, our dear Kyle’s painstakingly crafted elite persona is going to shatter into a million pieces.” “I give it one month.” The voice belonged to Carter, Victoria’s childhood friend. “The whole Oxford backstory was a nice touch, but you just can’t hide that deep-rooted poverty. Have you seen the way he cuts his steak? He grips the knife like he’s murdering a personal enemy, terrified his etiquette isn’t textbook perfect. It is absolutely hilarious.” Victoria let out a low laugh. Her tone was completely indifferent. “I bet on a year. His ego is massive. To protect his little lie, he will probably figure out a way to exile his father back to the rust belt. He won’t let him show his face anytime soon.” She paused, letting out a soft sigh. “When my mother tried to force me to marry that braindead heir from the Gallagher family, I obviously refused.” “Kyle just happened to serve himself up on a silver platter. He might be a peasant, but he is clever. I needed a clever pawn to distract my parents. With them constantly warring with him, they naturally didn’t have the energy to micromanage me.” “Besides, watching him try so desperately to mimic old-money elegance every single day is actually quite entertaining.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Victoria had known from the very beginning. All my late nights, all my grueling efforts, were nothing but a circus act for her amusement. A chorus of laughter erupted inside the room. Victoria suddenly hushed them. Through the crack in the door, I saw a young boy. He was curled up on the leather sofa behind them, fast asleep. He was draped in Victoria’s custom-tailored trench coat. He shifted slightly, and Victoria immediately ordered the room to silence. “Keep it down. Do not wake him up. He pulled a double shift at the club last night. He is exhausted.” Carter clicked his tongue, teasing her. “Come on, Victoria. He is a literal hillbilly. He’s as unrefined as it gets. What do you even see in him?” Victoria rested her chin on her hand, gazing quietly at the sleeping boy. “Compared to Kyle’s manufactured elegance, I prefer authenticity. A twenty-dollar thrift store shirt looks incredibly charming on him. He doesn’t bow down, and he doesn’t grovel. That is what attracts me.” Just as she spoke, the boy rolled over and woke up. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and clumsily sat up. “How did I fall asleep…” He carefully handed the coat back to Victoria. “Ms. Sinclair, thank you for covering my little brother’s medical bills. I swear I will pay you back every single cent…” “You do not need to pay me back.” “No, I have to. I refuse to owe anyone.” He bit his lower lip. His eyes were shining with a stubborn, fierce pride. Victoria’s lips curled into a smile. She tapped the tip of his nose. It was a gesture full of absolute adoration. “Alright, alright. I can never win an argument with you. How about this. Come work as my executive assistant. I will pay you ten thousand a month.” Oliver’s eyes lit up. “But I didn’t even finish high school. I don’t know the first thing about business…” “Degrees do not matter. You are a smart boy. You will learn.” He hesitated for a second, then nodded eagerly. My heart felt like it was being pierced by a sewing needle. A sharp, radiating pain filled my chest. That assistant position belonged to me. The official job posting for her executive assistant strictly required a Master’s degree from an Ivy League university. My family background was a fabrication. But my academic degrees were completely real. To earn that position, I had prepared for years. Victoria’s company had a major branch in Paris. She traveled there constantly. Terrified that she would find me unprofessional, I spent every waking hour mastering French and studying high-society etiquette. I lived my entire life in transit between tutors and classes. It turned out none of that mattered to her. Not in the slightest. For the first time, I realized you didn’t need to be brilliant to stand by her side. Victoria gently ruffled the boy’s hair. “For my assistant, a high school education is more than enough.” Oliver smiled shyly. Standing in the hallway, my hands and feet went completely numb. I could barely hold myself upright. I dragged my hollow body back to my own private dining room. 2 The business partner was still trying to humiliate me. He poured cheap vodka straight into a glass of expensive scotch. “If Mr. Kyle downs this glass right now, whatever bad blood Ms. Sinclair and I have will be wiped clean.” He flashed me a sleazy, arrogant smirk. Once, to secure a contract for Victoria, I drank until my stomach hemorrhaged. I nearly died on an operating table. This time, I was done being a fool. I took the glass from his hand and poured the liquor straight onto the carpet. “Mr. Gallagher, you and Ms. Sinclair can settle your own disputes. I have other matters to attend to. Excuse me.” Like a walking corpse, I returned to the Sinclair estate. My mother-in-law was sitting rigidly on the parlor sofa, her eyes closed in meditation. Hearing the door open, she did not even bother to look up. “Have you finalized the seating chart for tomorrow’s charity luncheon with the foundation directors?” “Also, for the family heritage gala next month, I had the butler email you the flight itineraries for the senior board members. Make sure you personally arrange their airport transfers.” “We allowed you to marry into the Sinclair family so you could maintain our public image. You must execute these duties flawlessly. Otherwise, what is the difference between marrying you and plucking a filthy illiterate beggar off the streets?” A filthy beggar. My chest throbbed again. I stood quietly in the foyer. I didn’t say a single word. I just turned and walked toward the grand staircase. “Halt! Are you deaf? Or was your basic breeding fed to the dogs?” I paused at the foot of the stairs. For the first time in five years, I did not turn around to face her. “Find someone else to do it. I am tired.” Behind me, Eleanor unleashed a torrent of vicious insults, but I tuned them all out. I slammed the bedroom door shut, sealing away the noise. Memories flooded my mind. I suddenly remembered the very first time I laid eyes on Victoria Sinclair. I was a broke college student working as a banquet waiter to pay my tuition. It was my first time stepping into the glittering world of the ultra-rich. I was terrified. I was trembling. I accidentally knocked over a guest’s glass, spilling champagne all over their suit. The man flew into a violent rage. He grabbed me by the throat, slammed me into the marble floor, and kicked me hard in the ribs. I was shaking from the agonizing pain. “You filthy street rat! Do you have any idea how much this suit costs? It is custom Italian couture! It costs seven figures! It is money a bottom-feeder like you couldn’t earn in three lifetimes!” I kneeled on the floor like a beaten dog, pressing my hands together, begging for forgiveness. My face was bleeding from his slaps. The blood mixed with my tears, turning my vision red. It was Victoria who stepped out of the crowd and saved me. “It is just a piece of fabric. There is no need to torture the poor boy over it.” Her tone was light, effortless, almost bored. The way her slender, beautiful fingers held the pen as she wrote a blank check for the man. I still remember it vividly. My heart pounded violently in my chest. It was the first time I truly understood the crushing weight of class disparity. I was a top-tier university student, yet just because I was born poor, they could grind me into the dirt like an insignificant ant. But I refused to be an ant. I wanted to be the master of my own fate. I wanted a beautiful life, and I wanted the woman standing in front of me. In that moment, a twisted mixture of lust and ambition gave birth to an absurd, desperate plan. I forged my origins. I spun a web of lies. All just to earn a ticket into her world. Just to stand as her equal. I eventually made it happen. But looking back now, I finally understood that I was nothing more than a game to Victoria. She did not love my hard-earned brilliance. Yet she was completely captivated by a high-school dropout from a nightclub. Just because he was authentic. Because he refused to bow down. It was hilariously tragic. I dialed my lawyer’s number and instructed him to draft a divorce settlement. I knew it was time to end this. I lay in bed, tossing and turning in the dark. 3 It was nearly midnight when Victoria finally came home. I heard Eleanor’s muffled complaints from the living room before Victoria walked upstairs. She carried the faint scent of sweet citrus. It must have been that boy’s cologne. She kicked off her heels and unbuttoned her blouse. “My mother said you gave her an attitude today. Go down and apologize to her later.” I lay there without moving. She gently patted my shoulder. “What is wrong, baby? You look like you’re in a terrible mood.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. It was her usual gentle touch, yet I couldn’t feel a single trace of warmth. I forced myself to breathe evenly and replied, “It is nothing. I just don’t feel well.” “By the way, how did the dinner with Gallagher go?” “I didn’t fix it.” Victoria paused for a second. “That is fine. Drop it. We can just scrap the deal. I do not want you swallowing your pride for them.” A bitter laugh almost escaped my throat. I wanted to ask her, whose pride was she really trying to protect? But the words died on my tongue. “Alright.” I didn’t sleep a wink that night. When I walked into the corporate office the next morning, the boy had already started his first day. His name was Oliver. Up close, he was even more handsome and youthful than he looked in that dim private room. But he was an absolute idiot. During the board meeting, he couldn’t even figure out how to project the presentation slides. His meeting minutes were an illegible disaster. Victoria was notoriously ruthless with her employees. Yet toward Oliver, she possessed an infinite well of patience. I endured the farce until the meeting ended. I followed Victoria into her private office to discuss a new project rollout. Oliver hovered nearby, pouring tea. With a clumsy twist of his wrist, boiling hot tea splashed directly onto my arm. Blisters instantly erupted on my skin. All the documents on the desk were ruined. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “How do you mess up pouring water?” He slammed the teapot onto the table. He didn’t say a word, but his face was a mask of sheer defiance and resentment. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to me?” I asked him calmly, but my tone only made him defensive. “I didn’t do it on purpose! Why do you have to be so aggressive? Don’t think just because you have money you can bully me.” Standing beside us, Victoria looked at him with unmistakable admiration. Was this the fierce independence she loved so much? I was about to reprimand him, but she immediately grabbed my hand, stepping in to shield him. “He is young. He doesn’t have any corporate experience. Let me apologize on his behalf, okay?” My heart gave a violent tremor. I pulled my hand out of her grip. The incident was swept under the rug. After finishing our work discussion, I packed up to leave. Victoria suddenly cleared her throat. “I have a networking dinner tonight. Head home without me. Don’t wait up.” I knew her too well. She always cleared her throat right before she lied. “Okay.” Back in my own office, I pulled Oliver’s contact info from HR and added him on Instagram. Sure enough, just past eight o’clock, Oliver posted a new story. Victoria was sitting right there in his photo. They were eating at a dirty street-food stall. The table was covered in aggressively spicy greasy food. Next to their plates sat two cheap, sugary lemonades from a corner bodega. This was a woman who refused to drink coffee unless the beans were flown in from Yemen. Now, she was happily sipping a three-dollar lemonade. It was pathetic. I clicked onto Oliver’s profile. His sparse feed was suddenly dedicated entirely to Victoria. [My twentieth birthday. Ms. Sinclair bought me my first pair of Italian leather shoes! But I still prefer my worn-out sneakers haha.] [The CEO experiences a dive bar for the first time. She frowned the entire time but still peeled my crawfish for me!] The more I read, the tighter my chest became. Right then, my phone vibrated loudly. It was a text message from an unknown number. I glanced at the preview, and my stomach plummeted. …It was my father. He had just been released from prison. [Kyle, help your old man out. Did you really think you could strike it rich and cut me off?] [I am rotting in the gutter, and I will drag you down into the mud with me!] [Do not forget how you crawled your way into the Sinclair family. Give me half a million dollars, and I will keep my mouth shut.] I didn’t reply. My hands shook as I deleted the message. 4 I suddenly remembered the bet Victoria and her friends made in that private room. They placed bets on exactly when my facade would crumble. My father was a ticking time bomb. Sooner or later, that bomb was going to detonate. But I was exhausted. I was done living in constant, suffocating fear. If this lie was going to shatter, I wanted to be the one holding the hammer. Victoria didn’t come home until dawn the next day. She brushed it off, claiming she was stuck negotiating with clients all night. But I had already seen Oliver’s social media. There were no clients. She had hiked up a public trail with Oliver to watch the meteor shower. They spent the whole night looking at the stars, waiting for the sunrise. At the breakfast table, Eleanor spoke up. “The annual family gala is approaching. Kyle, you need to start the preparations.” The Sinclair family hosted a massive heritage gala every year. Every direct heir, distant cousin, and board member of the Sinclair dynasty attended. It was the single most important event on their social calendar. I listened to Eleanor and asked, “What is the exact date of the gala?” “The twentieth.” My phone buzzed relentlessly in my pocket. The blackmail texts were pouring in one after another. [You ungrateful brat! If you don’t reply right now, I am marching straight to your mansion!] I hesitated for a few seconds, then typed my response. [You want money? On the twentieth of this month, come find me at the Sinclair ancestral estate.] The days dragged on. The twentieth was rapidly approaching. Some people were stressed, while others were living a fantasy. Oliver’s Instagram updated daily. It was a meticulous diary of his romance with Victoria. Victoria skipped executive board meetings to drive him out to the suburbs to visit his sick grandmother. She spent her weekends experiencing the “working-class struggle” with him, wearing a ridiculous mascot costume to hand out flyers on the sidewalk. The two of them squatted on the curb, eating cheap hotdogs from a cart. Every photo, every caption was a poisoned needle driving straight into my heart. My father’s threatening texts continued to flood my phone. The messages grew increasingly vile. He called me a cheap whore, a sewer rat trying to feast with the royals. He told me I was born to die in the mud. The locked doors of my trauma were kicked wide open. I remembered his drunken rages. The way he beat me until my skin split open. He used to pin me to the dirty floor and force me to bark like a dog. He tied me up with extension cords and hung me from the ceiling pipes. My head felt like it was going to split open. The emotional pain made my physical body violently shake. I had to dig my fingernails into my palms until they bled, biting down on my teeth so hard they nearly cracked, just to maintain a blank expression. The twentieth was almost here. Money couldn’t save me anymore. This glamorous, glittering illusion couldn’t save me either. I had to crawl my own way out of this swamp. I had to save myself. The day of the gala finally arrived. The entire family was required to gather at the Sinclair ancestral estate in the Hamptons. Victoria’s Bentley was idling in the driveway. When I pulled open the passenger door, I froze. Oliver was sitting in the front seat. Victoria quickly explained, “I brought him along today to let him experience high society.” She turned to Oliver. “Move to the back seat. The front is for my husband.” Oliver bit his lip and tugged pitifully at Victoria’s silk sleeve. “Ms. Sinclair, I get terrible motion sickness. If I sit in the back, I’ll throw up…” Victoria’s heart melted instantly. “Kyle, why don’t you…” I didn’t say a word. I quietly closed the door and got into the back seat. The ride was dead silent. We finally arrived at the estate. Oliver looked exactly like I did when I first stumbled into this world. His eyes darted everywhere, terrified and shrinking into himself. But he was much luckier than I ever was. Victoria hovered over him like a protective hawk, shielding him from every judgmental stare. When a younger female cousin tried to flirt and offer Oliver a glass of champagne, Victoria silenced her with a lethal glare. “What are you doing? You already have a boyfriend. Trying to take my little assistant home as a side piece?” The cousin rolled her eyes. “Why not? Is that a problem?” Victoria instantly snapped her head back to look at me. She was checking to see if I had heard the exchange. Honestly, I was past the point of caring. I stared blankly at the antique grandfather clock against the wall, silently counting down the minutes. Finally, the estate manager rushed into the ballroom, looking frantic. He announced that an uninvited guest was causing a scene at the front gates. 5 As he spoke, his eyes kept darting nervously in my direction. “The man claims… he is here looking for the master of the house.” I spoke up, my voice perfectly flat. “Let him in.” The man who walked through the heavy oak doors was my father. His face was weathered and deeply lined. A cheap, unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. He was wearing a stained, torn flannel shirt. The soles of his work boots were peeling off. Victoria had run background checks on me. She instantly recognized his face from the private investigator’s files. She immediately flagged down the estate security. “Throw this man out!” “That won’t be necessary,” I said, stepping in front of the guards. “…What exactly do you think you are doing?” I looked Victoria dead in the eyes. “I told him to come today. I want to confess everything to your family.” Victoria’s face drained of color. She lunged forward to stop me. But it was too late. “My entire identity is a lie.” “My parents are not university professors. I am not an Oxford graduate. I am the son of a degenerate gambling addict. I have never even set foot in Europe. Every single thing I told you was a fabrication.” The grand ballroom erupted into absolute chaos. Eleanor looked like she had been struck by lightning. She was trembling violently, screaming at me, “Are you having a psychotic break?” “Eleanor, every word I am saying is the truth. If you don’t believe me, ask Victoria. She knows everything about me.” “From the very beginning, she knew I was a fraud. She sat back and watched me put on a show. She watched me play the elite prodigy, bleeding myself dry just to climb the ranks of your family.” I looked at Victoria and forced a smile. It probably looked more like a grimace. “Victoria, I lied to you, and you played me for a fool. I would say we are finally even.” Before the silence could settle, my father lost his patience. He spat on the polished marble floor. “Kyle, are you done running your damn mouth? You people can sort out your rich drama later! Give me my money!” I slowly turned my head and locked eyes with him. I spoke slowly, emphasizing every single syllable. “I don’t have your money. You are not getting a single cent.” “I just confessed everything to the Sinclair family. You no longer have any secrets to hold over my head.” “I have nothing left to lose. I am not afraid of you anymore. If you push me one more inch, I will drag us both to hell!” I pulled a pocket knife from my jacket and pointed the blade directly at him. The crowd shrieked in horror. Panic swept through the room. It was absolute pandemonium. But for the very first time in my life, I saw genuine fear flash in my father’s eyes. His lips quivered. He muttered curses under his breath, but he didn’t dare raise his voice. Right on cue, the estate security swarmed in. They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of the ballroom without another word. The remaining guests stared at each other in shock. The whispers grew louder, echoing off the high ceilings. “Everyone, please quiet down!” Victoria barked, her expression dark and dangerous. She glared at me. She looked like a lioness preparing to tear my throat out. “Kyle, you planned this. Pulling a stunt like this today… what exactly is your endgame?” I twirled the small pocket knife in my fingers. The blade was sharp. It slipped, slicing a shallow cut across my palm. Bright red blood welled up instantly. “I used to worship the life you people lived. I was willing to lie, cheat, and steal just to experience it for one second. Now that I have lived it, I realize it is entirely hollow. It is incredibly boring.” “When a person lives in a world that doesn’t belong to them, they will never find peace.” “I am exhausted. The illusion is broken. I just want it to be over.” “Let’s get a divorce, Victoria. I am done being a pet in your gilded terrarium.” I pulled off the blood-stained diamond wedding band and dropped it onto the marble floor. It let out a sharp, echoing clink. Her jaw locked tight. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “A divorce? You conned me for years, and now you want out? If we divorce, you get absolutely nothing. You will walk away with the clothes on your back. I highly suggest you reconsider!” “My mind is made up.” I pulled the prepared divorce settlement from my inner pocket and handed it to her. Victoria was breathing heavily. Blinded by rage, she snatched the documents and ripped them in half. “You are not thinking straight. Once you sober up and calm down, we will talk.” “I am perfectly sober. I am divorcing you.” I looked at Victoria, my voice unwavering. “No matter what it takes, we are done.”

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1 The day I was supposed to take the bench as Chief Judge, I got myself arrested for a DUI on purpose. Sitting behind bars for three days, I perfectly missed the murder trial of my wife’s childhood sweetheart. Everyone who knew me shook their heads. They pitied me for throwing my brilliant career straight into the gutter. But sitting on that freezing iron cot, all I felt was absolute relief. In my past life, my wife forced me to use my authority to acquit her bastard of a childhood friend. I refused and sentenced the scumbag to death according to the law. My wife hated my guts for it. After the divorce, she pulled every string she had, whipping up a frenzy online and framing me for abusing my power for personal revenge. Overnight, I went from a rising star in the justice system to a rat crossing the street. Countless ignorant netizens doxed me. Death threats stuffed my mailbox. The abuse bled into my real life, suffocating me until my mental defenses completely shattered. I was driven to a dead end and jumped off a building. I opened my eyes, sucking in a lungful of rust-scented air. I had actually returned to the day before the trial. “Is that him? The high and mighty Chief Judge? A drunk driver?” “Breaking the law he’s sworn to uphold. Throw the book at him!” “Scum like him doesn’t deserve the robe. Sickening.” Accusations and curses washed over me like a tidal wave. I looked at the furious faces behind the police tape, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. If I hadn’t been pushed to the absolute brink, who would willingly smash the career they spent a decade building? In my last life, my principles got me killed. This time, I had run the chessboard through my mind a thousand times. This was the only way out of a dead end. It would be a lie to say my heart didn’t ache for what I was losing. Before I could process the heavy emotions, two uniformed officers slapped cold handcuffs onto my wrists with a sharp click. One of them roughly shoved my shoulder, preparing to force me into the back of the cruiser. Right at that moment, a middle-aged woman in a red coat broke through the crowd like a madwoman. She pointed a trembling finger right at my nose and screamed. “You heartless animal! My son was killed by a drunk driver like you!” “You’re a judge and you dare to drink and drive? Why don’t you rot in hell with my boy!” Her voice cracked and tore. Driven to the edge of grief, she lunged forward, her nails aiming straight for my face. Looking at her twisted, tear-stained features, my vision blurred for a second. A few years ago, I was the one who presided over her son’s tragic hit-and-run case. What a cruel joke of fate. The wheel turned, and now I was the one wearing the handcuffs. Seeing her claws about to reach my eyes, the younger cop quickly stepped in front of me. “Ma’am, please step back. You need to calm down.” “Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down!” Her shrieks pierced my eardrums. “Why does a piece of trash like him get to wear that robe? What gives him the right to sit up high and decide who lives and dies!” The crowd immediately echoed her anger. People shouted that someone so filthy had no right to judge others. The cops were overwhelmed by the boiling outrage. They finally managed to pull the despairing mother aside. Taking advantage of the gap, the other officer shoved me hard into the police car. The heavy door slammed shut with a thud. The chaos outside was instantly muted. The young cop climbed into the driver’s seat. He glanced at the angry mob outside, still shaken, then glared at me through the rearview mirror. His eyes were full of frustrated disappointment. He shook his head in disgust. “What the hell were you thinking? A Chief Judge, holding the biggest case of the year, and you go out and drive drunk? Is your brain rotted?” “Anyone who didn’t know better would think you did this on purpose to dodge the trial.” A sharp ache hit my chest. I had bled for this profession for ten years. Every bone in my body carried a deep reverence for the law. Who would actually throw that away? But I had no choice. I had to burn it all down to survive. Seeing me sitting there like a mute statue, the cop wisely shut his mouth. I leaned back against the leather seat and closed my eyes, but my mind ran wild, dragging me back to my previous life. My wife was Meredith. The man who caused the fatal crash was her childhood best friend, Blake. That night, the rain poured down in sheets. Visibility was zero. Blake was dead drunk. He slammed the gas pedal, ran a red light, and hit a pregnant woman, sending her flying across the intersection. Her husband was standing only a few feet away, forced to watch his beloved wife smash onto the asphalt like a broken doll. Bright crimson blood mixed with the rain, pooling rapidly under the pale streetlights. She died on impact. The eight-month-old baby, fully formed and ready to see the world, died right along with her. The tragedy detonated across the internet. Public fury boiled over, and every lawyer in the city was placing bets on how long Blake would rot in a cell. Fate played a sick joke, and the gavel was placed in my hands. The second the news broke, Meredith called me. She felt zero sympathy for the dead. She simply demanded I use my authority to get Blake off the hook. Those were two innocent lives. And Blake didn’t show a single ounce of remorse in court. He even smirked at the grieving husband. My bottom line as a judge made me reject Meredith’s insane demands without a second thought. Taking all the brutal evidence into account, I brought the gavel down and sentenced Blake to death. The day of the verdict, Meredith was eerily quiet. But that very night, she packed her bags and left. The next morning, a cold divorce agreement was slapped onto my desk. I was completely stunned. She looked at me like I was garbage. A venomous sneer curled her lips as she told me I didn’t deserve to be her husband. “Blake and I grew up together, and you actually dared to sentence him to death. You’re a cold-blooded monster!” “I asked you for one tiny favor and you pushed back. What’s next? Are you going to throw me in a cell too!” Her beautiful eyes were swimming with raw, unfiltered hatred. I almost laughed at her twisted logic. If I didn’t sentence him to death, how could I face the public? How could I face those two murdered souls? She refused to listen to a single word of my defense. She just spun on her heels and slammed the door behind her. I tried to salvage things, but she was a block of solid ice. Exhausted to my core, I signed the papers. I thought the nightmare was over and we would just go our separate ways. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The day after the divorce, a massive smear campaign buried me alive. Hordes of internet trolls came out of nowhere, spinning a narrative that I was jealous of Blake and Meredith’s relationship, claiming I handed down the death penalty out of pure spite. The killing blow was an audio clip leaked online. In it, my voice used the most vulgar words imaginable to curse Blake, threatening to kill him sooner or later. It was a masterful AI deepfake. Meredith was a top-tier visual and audio designer. She had plenty of connections with people who could fabricate reality perfectly. I tried to clear my name. A few rational voices actually took my side. But that afternoon, my trusted assistant posted a massive essay online. He tearfully accused me of abusing my power and accepting massive bribes. When my own right-hand man threw me to the wolves, the narrative completely spiraled out of control. Not a single person believed my innocence anymore. I naively thought the internet’s memory was short. I thought time would wash it away. But the hatred escalated into real-world violence. Bricks smashed through my windows at midnight. Dead rats were left on my windshield. The death threats seeped into every corner of my existence. My sanity finally snapped. On a quiet, early morning, I stepped off the edge of a thirty-story building. The agony of my bones shattering and my organs tearing from the sheer force of the impact was still burned into my soul. Opening my eyes again, only ice remained in my veins. Since God gave me a second chance, I would never let anyone use me as a stepping stone again. Three days later, I finally walked out of the precinct doors. The desk officer handed me my belongings in a clear plastic bag. I nodded in thanks. The second I turned on my phone, it vibrated like a cornered hornet. Over a hundred unread messages flooded the screen. I skimmed through them. Most were from Meredith. Every single word reeked of arrogant rage. “Where the hell are you playing dead? Text me back!” “You have three hours, or I’m dragging you to sign divorce papers!” “You think you’re so tough now? Ignoring my calls and my texts?” Because I hadn’t replied, her final messages softened just a fraction. “Today is Blake’s trial. You better remember what I said and make sure he walks free.” Seeing that last line, I couldn’t hold back a cold laugh. I had spent three peaceful days behind bars, and she was out here writing a whole script for my life. I ignored her garbage texts. Glancing at my Rolex, I saw the time was just about right. I hailed a cab and headed straight for the courthouse. Green lights all the way. Half an hour later, the cab pulled up across the street from the towering courthouse. I looked out the window. Blake’s crime was so brutal that the court had barred public entry to the trial. But that didn’t stop the outrage. The plaza in front of the building was packed tight with angry protesters, and reporters had their cameras lined up like a firing squad. My eyes scanned the chaotic crowd and locked onto two very familiar figures. Meredith and my son, Toby. They were standing on their tiptoes, craning their necks toward the heavy doors, panic written all over their faces. This was getting interesting. I pushed the car door open, a mocking smile playing on my lips. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stood on the sidewalk, quietly admiring their little performance. A few minutes passed. Maybe she felt my unapologetic stare, because Meredith suddenly whipped her head around. Our eyes clashed in the air. The moment she recognized my face, Meredith looked like someone had hit pause on a remote control. Pure, unfiltered shock flashed across her perfect face. She let go of Toby’s hand and practically sprinted across the pavement toward me in her heels. “What are you doing here?” A subtle tremor of panic laced her voice. Her eyes darted between the closed courthouse doors and my calm expression. Her throat tightened. “At this time, you should be sitting in…” She forced the rest of the sentence back down her throat. I looked down at her, my voice dead flat. “Where should I be?” She bit her lower lip hard, her face draining of color. The mockery on my face deepened. I dragged out the syllables, asking her the exact same question again. Her mask completely shattered. Her voice grew sharp and erratic. “You should be on the bench! Why are you sneaking around out here? Did you abandon your post again!” Her volume was loud, laced with a preemptive, defensive fury. A few curious heads were already turning our way. I didn’t care if anyone recognized me as the disgraced Chief Judge who got busted for drunk driving three days ago. Meeting Meredith’s furious, panicked gaze, I let out a slow, clear laugh. “What trial?” “Three days ago, I was locked up for a DUI. I just walked out of the precinct ten minutes ago.”

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1 Rowan and I lived together for three years. All that time, a framed photo of a snow-capped mountain stayed on his desk. When I asked to replace it with a New Year’s photo of us, he smiled and refused, saying the composition was perfect. While cleaning one afternoon, sunlight hit the glass just right. That’s when I noticed her—a tiny girl in a red parka, standing on a trail halfway up the slope. She was small, easy to miss unless you looked closely, yet perfectly in focus, as if the photographer had centered her while pretending to capture the landscape. Scrolling through Rowan’s Instagram from three years ago, I found four posts that month. Every one was a landscape—and every one hid that same flash of red. When he got home late, I handed him the frame. “Who is she?” I asked. He wiped dust from the corner, set it back in place, and said, “Just some random tourist.” His finger lingered on the edge, brushing it like he was touching a cheek. In three years, he had no photos of us on his phone. Yet that red figure had been his wallpaper the entire time. I laughed softly and looked away. The next day, I accepted a company transfer. There was no place for me in his view, and I was done being part of the backdrop. “Change the sheets in the master bedroom to a fresh set. Riley is moving in for a few days this afternoon.” Rowan dropped that bomb without even looking up as he kicked off his dress shoes in the entryway. I was sitting on the couch, double-checking the electronic receipt for breaking our apartment lease. My finger froze over the screen. “Who is Riley?” “A junior from my college. She just moved back to the States and hasn’t secured an apartment yet.” Rowan tossed his leather briefcase onto the coffee table and loosened his tie. “Two days ago, you swore the girl in the mountain photo was a complete stranger.” His fingers froze on his collar button. Two seconds passed before he furrowed his brows. “You stalked my old posts?” “Your profile is public. I scrolled back three years. It took quite a bit of effort.” He let out a heavy sigh and walked over, sitting down next to me. “Rowan. You and I have lived together for three years. And now you’re letting a girl you secretly photographed for five years move into our home?” “What do you mean, secretly photographed? Don’t make it sound so creepy.” His tone carried a sharp edge of impatience. “The outdoor club went to Alaska together. She happened to be standing in front of me, so I snapped a picture. That’s it.” “Then why didn’t you happen to snap a picture of a guy?” “Do you really have to be this petty?” Rowan stood up, looking down at me with absolute exhaustion. “She is a young girl who just moved back to the country. She has no family here. What is so wrong with me looking out for her as an older alumni?” “There are plenty of hotels.” “Do you have any idea how expensive hotels are in this city? She just got her first job. She doesn’t have that kind of cash.” “Our apartment isn’t a homeless shelter.” He stared at me for a long, heavy moment before letting out a cold scoff. “Sloane, you never used to be this narrow-minded.” “I used to be stupid.” “Whatever. I’m not doing this with you.” Rowan turned his back and walked straight toward the master bedroom. “I already promised her she could stay. She’ll be here with her luggage this afternoon. Hurry up and change those sheets.” “I’m not doing it.” “If you won’t, I will.” He violently yanked open the closet door and pulled out a brand-new four-piece bedding set. I sat on the couch and watched him work. In three years of living together, the man didn’t even know how to turn on the washing machine. Now, for another woman, he was clumsily wrestling with a pillowcase. At three in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Rowan practically jogged to open it. “Rowan!” A crisp, sweet voice floated into the apartment. A girl in a khaki trench coat stepped inside, dragging two massive silver suitcases behind her. She spotted me and paused. “You must be Sloane.” She smiled sweetly, her eyes curving into perfect little crescents. “Rowan talks about you all the time. He says you’re amazing at taking care of people.” “He never talks about you.” I leaned against the wall, keeping my voice completely flat. Riley’s smile froze. She cast a pitiful, wronged look at Rowan. Rowan immediately shot me a lethal glare. “Can you just shut your mouth for one second?” He turned back to Riley, his voice instantly softening into melted butter. “Ignore her. She’s just in a bad mood today. Are those bags heavy? Let me take them into the room for you.” “Thank you, Rowan.” Riley followed him into the master bedroom. That was the room we had slept in for three years. I had been sleeping in the guest room for the past week. Rowan claimed his neck was acting up and said the mattress in the master bedroom was softer. Being the understanding girlfriend, I had voluntarily moved to the guest bed to give him space. Looking at it now, he was just clearing the room for her. Ten minutes later, Riley walked out of the bedroom. She strolled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, scanning the shelves. “Rowan, why don’t you have any ice water in here?” “Sloane has a weak stomach. We only keep hot water in the house.” Rowan answered from the living room. Riley pulled a mug from the rack and filled it halfway from the hot water dispenser. It was my mug. I had commissioned that mug from a local pottery studio. My initials were carved right into the bottom. I walked over and snatched the cup straight out of her hand. A splash of hot water hit the cuff of her trench coat. “Ah!” She let out a sharp shriek and stumbled backward. Rowan charged into the kitchen like a bull and shoved me hard out of the way. “Are you out of your mind!” He grabbed a handful of paper towels and frantically dabbed at Riley’s sleeve. “Did you get burned?” “No, the water just spilled.” Riley bit her lower lip. Her eyes instantly welled up with red-rimmed tears. “Does Sloane hate that I’m here? If it’s too much trouble, I can leave right now.” She turned, taking a dramatic step toward the bedroom to get her bags. Rowan reached out and grabbed her wrist tight. “Where are you going? This is my apartment. I decide who gets to stay.” He slowly turned his head, fixing me with a look of pure disgust. “It’s just a cheap mug. Would it kill you to let her use it?” “I don’t know if it’ll kill her, but I find it disgusting.” I tossed the mug directly into the stainless steel trash can. The sound of shattering ceramic echoed violently in the kitchen. Rowan’s face went completely rigid. “Sloane, don’t push your luck.” “What luck? The luck of putting up with you?” I stared back at him with absolute ice. “Rowan, you can let her sleep in the master bedroom. But if she touches a single thing that belongs to me, I will smash it into pieces.” “You are completely unreasonable!” “You’ll find out exactly how unreasonable I can be very soon.” 2 Over the next two days, Rowan and Riley turned the apartment into their own personal playground. When I walked out of the guest room in the mornings, the bathroom was perpetually occupied. I could hear Riley humming a pop song over the sound of the running shower. I stood outside that door for a solid thirty minutes. Rowan walked out of the kitchen carrying two plates of perfectly fried eggs. He gave me a sideways glance. “What’s the rush? Riley takes her time washing her hair. Could you not just wake up earlier?” “It is eight in the morning. I leave for work at eight-thirty.” “Then go use the public restroom down the street.” He said it so casually. Like asking his girlfriend to use a public toilet was the most normal thing in the world. I stared at those beautifully golden eggs on his plates. In three years of dating, the man had never cooked breakfast for me once. He used to tell me the grease from cooking was bad for my skin and insisted I learn to cook instead. I believed his garbage. I woke up thirty minutes early every single day to make him oatmeal and coffee. It turned out he wasn’t incapable of cooking. He just didn’t want to cook for me. The bathroom door finally unlatched. Riley stepped out wrapped in a white towel. Water dripped from the ends of her hair, leaving puddles on the hardwood floor. “Oh, sorry Sloane. I didn’t know you were in such a rush.” She smiled without a single shred of actual guilt. “It’s fine. Take as long as you want from now on.” I walked into the bathroom and clicked the lock shut. On the vanity, my expensive face wash had been squeezed flat, the cap left wide open. My favorite pink towel was currently draped over the dripping showerhead. I ripped the towel down and threw it straight into the trash can. Then I turned around, left the apartment, and went to work. I deliberately stayed at the office late that night. Our lease didn’t expire for another two months, and I needed time to secure my next move. When I pushed open the front door, the living room lights were off. The only illumination came from the flickering glow of the television screen. On the couch, Rowan and Riley were huddled together, watching a horror movie. Riley had her face buried in Rowan’s shoulder. Her arms were wrapped tightly around a throw pillow. It was the pillow I had hand-stitched. It had my and Rowan’s initials intertwined in the center. “Rowan, I’m scared.” “Don’t be. It’s all fake.” Rowan patted her back gently. His voice was incredibly soft. I stood in the entryway feeling like a complete stranger intruding on someone else’s happy home. When he was chasing me back in the day, he took me to a horror movie too. I had been terrified and grabbed his sleeve. He had yanked his arm away in disgust and told me the special effects looked like cheap garbage. I used to think he was just an unromantic, pragmatic guy. It turned out even pragmatic guys had a deeply tender side. It just depended entirely on who was sitting next to them. I reached over and flicked on the main entryway light. The harsh brightness shattered their intimate little bubble instantly. Riley bounced off Rowan’s shoulder like she had been electrocuted. Rowan scowled at me. “Could you announce yourself when you walk in? You almost gave us a heart attack.” “This is my home. Is turning on a light a crime now?” I kicked off my heels and walked straight up to the couch. I snatched the embroidered pillow right out of Riley’s arms. “Sloane, what are you doing.” Riley looked up at me with wide, pitiful eyes. “This is mine.” “It’s just a pillow. What’s the big deal if I hold it for a bit?” “I don’t share.” I hugged the pillow to my chest and walked toward the guest room. Rowan’s suppressed anger echoed behind me. “Sloane, why are you acting so territorial lately? You’re acting like a paranoid hoarder.” “It’s my stuff. I’ll hoard it however I want.” I didn’t even look back as I slammed the bedroom door shut. The next day was Saturday. I spent the morning packing up the clothes and books I rarely used. I heard the sound of someone rummaging through drawers outside. I opened my door and saw Riley digging through the master bedroom’s nightstand. It was a drawer Rowan and I used to share. It held all our important documents and valuables. “What are you looking for?” I leaned against the doorframe, watching her. She jumped, startled. In her hand was a red velvet box. It was the tie clip I had bought just last month. I was planning to give it to Rowan for his thirtieth birthday. It cost me half a month’s salary to have it custom engraved with an initial. “Rowan said he couldn’t find his favorite tie clip, so he asked me to look for it.” She confidently flipped the box open. “Wow, this is gorgeous. It even has an R engraved on it.” R was the first letter of Rowan’s name. It was also the first letter of Riley’s. “Give it back.” I held out my hand. Riley pulled the box tight to her chest. “Sloane, this belongs to Rowan, doesn’t it? Why are you trying to take it?” “I bought it.” Rowan walked through the front door right at that moment, carrying a bag of groceries. Hearing the argument, he dropped the plastic bags and walked over. “What’s going on?” “Rowan, Sloane is trying to steal your tie clip.” Riley held the box out to him, her eyes instantly going red again. Rowan looked at the silver clip inside the velvet cushion and paused. “You bought this for me?” “Yes.” “Then it belongs to me, doesn’t it?” He snatched the box from her hand with absolute entitlement and clipped it directly onto the collar of Riley’s parka. “Riley has a big job interview today. I’m letting her borrow it for good luck.” I stared at that elegant, custom-made silver clip sitting awkwardly on her bright red outdoor jacket. “Rowan, that is a men’s tie clip.” “Who cares about gender rules? As long as it works.” He waved me off like a minor annoyance. “Besides, if you’re so heartbroken over it, just go buy another one.” “Just buy another one?” “It’s really not a big deal. Do you have to act this petty over everything?” I looked at his arrogant, deeply entitled face, and a laugh bubbled up in my throat. “You’re right. It’s not a big deal at all.” I turned around, walked back into the guest room, and locked the door. “Are you having another mental breakdown!” Rowan smacked his palm violently against the wood. 3 Friday night was my company’s annual appreciation gala. As the lead project manager, my attendance was mandatory. Rowan was the representative for our partner firm, so he was naturally on the guest list. According to company tradition, semi-public couples like us were supposed to walk the red carpet and sign in together. I had confirmed the schedule with him a whole week in advance. At five in the afternoon, I finished putting on my evening gown at home and gave him a call. “Are you on your way?” “Not yet. Riley has a bit of an emergency.” The background noise on his end was chaotic. It sounded like a shopping mall. “What emergency could possibly be more important than my project’s gala?” “She passed her interview. She said she needs a professional suit, so I’m helping her pick one out.” “Rowan, the gala starts at six-thirty. This is the celebration dinner for the project I led.” “I know, I know, we’ll make it in time. You go ahead. I’ll be there a little late.” He hung up immediately. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had spent two hours perfecting my makeup. My face was completely devoid of emotion as I picked up my clutch and ordered an Uber. I signed the guestbook alone. I walked to the head table alone. Seeing me flying solo, my coworkers immediately started teasing me. “Sloane, where’s Mr. Prince Charming? Didn’t he want to play your bodyguard tonight?” “He had some things to take care of. He’ll be here soon.” I held my champagne flute, flashing a flawless, bulletproof smile. At seven-thirty, the banquet was already halfway over. The heavy double doors of the ballroom suddenly pushed open. Rowan walked in wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. And tucked smoothly into the crook of his arm was a woman in a stunning red evening gown. It was Riley. Every single pair of eyes in the room instantly locked onto them. My knuckles turned white around the stem of my champagne glass. That red dress was the exact one I had seen in a magazine last month. I had told Rowan how much I loved it. I hadn’t bought it because the price tag was absurd. Now, it was draped over Riley’s body. And it fit her sickeningly well. Rowan led Riley straight to our table. “Sorry we’re late. Traffic was a nightmare.” He casually pulled out the empty chair next to me and offered it to Riley. The color drained from my coworkers’ faces. Everyone exchanged incredibly awkward glances. “And this is?” The CEO cleared his throat, asking the question everyone was thinking. “This is my college junior, Riley. She just moved back to the States. I brought her out to experience the industry a bit.” Rowan introduced her with absolute confidence. Riley stood up and raised her wine glass. “Hi everyone, I’m Riley. Rowan talks about you all the time. Thank you for taking such good care of him. Cheers.” She spoke with the supreme confidence of a hostess welcoming guests into her own home. Paige, my assistant sitting on my other side, couldn’t take the disrespect. She muttered under her breath. “The only one taking care of Rowan is our Sloane.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried perfectly across the table. Riley’s face froze. She looked at Rowan with big, wounded eyes. Rowan frowned deeply, shooting Paige a freezing glare. “The partnership between our two companies is built on professional merit, not on who takes care of who.” That sentence dropped the temperature at the table below freezing. The CEO scrambled to save the mood. “Right, right, merit is everything! Come on, let’s cut the celebration cake!” A massive three-tiered cake was wheeled out onto the floor. It was covered in little fondant figures representing everyone on our project team. Sitting at the very top of the highest tier was my figure. Because I was the absolute backbone of this project. The event host handed me a silver knife tied with a red ribbon, gesturing for me to make the first cut. I started to stand up, but Rowan suddenly clamped a heavy hand over mine. “Let Riley cut it.” The entire ballroom went so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I turned my head, staring at him in utter disbelief. “Excuse me?” “Riley just landed a great job today. We should celebrate her too. Let her borrow some of your good luck.” He snatched the knife right out of the host’s hand and shoved it directly into Riley’s palm. Riley gave a pathetic, fake little pushback. “I shouldn’t do this. This is Sloane’s big night.” “What’s the big deal? It’s just a slice of cake. Sloane doesn’t care about stuff like this.” Rowan gave her a gentle push on the back. Riley smiled shyly and walked right up to the cake, gripping the silver knife. She brought the blade down hard. The very first slice went straight through the top tier, cutting right across my fondant figure. The top half of my little sugar clone tumbled off the cake and crashed onto the silver tray. Scattered, hesitant applause echoed around the room. Every single person was looking at me with intense, suffocating pity. That pity humiliated me worse than a slap to the face. I stood frozen, watching Rowan gaze at Riley with absolute adoration as she sliced a cake that wasn’t hers. Somewhere deep inside my chest, the last remaining pillar holding my love for this man completely collapsed. I set my champagne glass down on the table with a soft click. “Sloane, are you okay?” Paige tugged anxiously at the hem of my dress. “I’m fine.” I grabbed my shawl off the back of the chair. “Since Rowan loves cutting cakes so much, I’ll leave you all to it. My stomach is acting up. I’m heading home.” “Sloane!” Rowan snapped at my back, a harsh warning in his tone. “Everyone is watching. Are you seriously going to throw a tantrum and embarrass us all?” I stopped walking and turned around to look at him. “The only one humiliated here is me.” I turned back on my heels and walked out of the ballroom without looking back once. 4 Tomorrow was our four-year anniversary. It was also the day I had scheduled my flight out of the city. The company had arranged my transfer to the Seattle branch, and I accepted it without a single second of hesitation. It worked out perfectly. I didn’t even have to hunt for a new apartment. The next morning, for the first time in days, Rowan wasn’t lingering in the master bedroom with Riley. He was sitting on the living room couch, staring at a cold cup of coffee. When he saw me wheeling two massive suitcases out of the guest room, he blinked in surprise. “What is all this?” “The company is sending me on a business trip to the branch office.” I kept my voice completely flat. No anger. No emotion. “You need this much stuff for a trip? Didn’t you ship boxes of your books out yesterday?” “The conditions at the branch are rough. I’m bringing the things I’m used to.” He frowned, clearly unsettled by my unnatural calm. “Are you still throwing a fit over last night?” “No.” “Sloane, you are way too sensitive. Riley is just a young girl. What is so wrong with me looking out for her? We’re about to get married, why is your capacity for tolerance so pathetic?” Married. Hearing that word now felt like a sick joke. “Today is our four-year anniversary.” I reminded him. He slapped his thigh, adopting a look of sudden realization. “Right, right, I remember. I’m taking a half-day off this afternoon. I’ll go with you to buy that diamond ring you’ve been looking at, and then we’ll get a nice steak dinner.” “Okay.” I agreed instantly. My lack of a fight made him uncomfortable. He coughed awkwardly. “Just leave the bags here for now. I’ll drive you to the airport this afternoon.” At noon, I emptied the very last drawer in the guest room. There wasn’t a single trace left in that room to prove I had ever existed. I had even peeled off every Polaroid photo I ever taped to the walls. All that remained was a slightly yellowing blank wall. I sat on the bare mattress, waiting for a text from Rowan. At one-thirty, my phone rang. Through the speaker, I heard the screech of a cat and a woman’s hysterical sobbing. “Sloane, I’m so sorry, I can’t make it this afternoon.” “What happened?” “Riley was feeding a stray cat downstairs and it scratched her deep. She’s bleeding everywhere. I’m driving her to the ER for rabies shots.” “She can get rabies shots at any urgent care clinic in five minutes.” “She’s terrified! She’s crying so hard she can barely walk! How am I supposed to just leave her alone?” He spoke with frantic impatience, acting like I was being entirely unreasonable. “But you promised you would spend the afternoon with me.” “Can’t we buy the ring tomorrow? What difference does a day make for an anniversary? This is a medical emergency. Can you not grasp basic priorities?” I said nothing. It was always exactly like this. Her getting a paper cut was an emergency. Her being scared of the dark was an emergency. Her feeding a cat was an emergency. My expectations, my waiting, were always met with “next time” or “some other day.” “Go ahead.” I said softly. “Don’t be mad, okay? I’ll order some nice takeout tonight to make it up to you.” He rushed to hang up the phone. I stared at the black screen. I wasn’t angry. I didn’t shed a single tear. All I felt was an overwhelming, unprecedented sense of relief. I walked out to the living room and picked up the photo frame he kept in the most prominent spot by the door. The photo of the snow-capped mountain. I popped the cardboard backing off and pulled the glossy print out. I grabbed a pair of scissors from a drawer. Carefully, meticulously, I cut the tiny girl in the red parka right out of the snowy trail. It left a jagged, ugly hole right in the center of the picture. I put the mutilated landscape back into the frame and placed it exactly where I found it. Then, I walked into the bathroom. I took that tiny red cutout, grabbed a piece of clear packing tape, and plastered it directly over the power switch of Rowan’s electric razor. When that was done, I walked to the coffee table. I laid down the printed lease termination agreement and the spare apartment key right in the center of the glass. Next to the key, I placed the engagement ring he had bought online for me years ago. A thirty-dollar cubic zirconia piece of junk. I grabbed the handles of my two suitcases and pulled open the front door. I took one last look at the place I had lived in for three years. Sunlight filtered through the screen door on the balcony. Tiny specks of dust floated in the warm air. This used to be my home. Now, it was just a cheap motel. The lock clicked shut with a sharp snap, locking the past away forever. The Uber driver helped me heave my bags into the trunk. “Where to, miss?” “To the airport.”

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In the dead of night, a severe allergic reaction struck. My throat began to swell, cutting off my air. Panicking, I dialed my husband, Nathan, who was a doctor on duty at the hospital. “Hello?” he answered. He rarely picked up during a night shift, yet this time he answered almost instantly. A wave of relief and warmth washed over me. “Nathan, I’m having an allergic reaction. Can you…” Before I could finish, the playful voice of his female intern, Sienna, drifted through the line. “Haha, fooled you! The call hasn’t actually gone through yet. Dr. Nathan is busy right now, so please try again later!” The line rang a dozen more times before the call actually connected. “I’m on shift. We’ll talk when I get home. Bye.” My throat had swollen shut, leaving me unable to make a sound. Not that he gave me a chance to try. The cold, mechanical dial tone buzzed in my ear, throbbing against my temples. When I tried calling back, his phone was already turned off. The antihistamines I had swallowed did nothing. Instead, my chest tightened, and my breath grew shallow. Fighting to keep my eyes open, I forced myself to dial 911. But I couldn’t even rasp out my address. Under the operator’s urgent, frantic questions, the phone slipped from my limp fingers. In the final second before darkness took me, a single thought crystallized: If I survive this, Nathan and I are done. For good. 1 When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was the anxious face of my best friend, Gwen. “Vivi, thank God you’re awake! I nearly died of fright when the hospital called me!” She squeezed my hand, her eyes red. “Do you have any idea how bad it was? You went into anaphylactic shock. They had to resuscitate you for six hours! You’ve been asleep for two days and a night!” I tried to comfort her, but the moment I moved my lips, a wave of numbness spread across my face. I looked around the room. It was a four-bed ward, occupied only by myself and an older woman in the corner. There was no sign of Nathan. “Don’t bother looking. He hasn’t set foot in here,” Gwen said, her voice dripping with irritation. Forcing myself upright, I fumbled around for my phone. There was only a single text from him. It wasn’t asking where I was, or why I hadn’t come home. It was just a cold, brief update: Out of town for a week. No discussion. Just an announcement. After a moment’s hesitation, I typed back: I had an allergic reaction. Take your meds. What if I’m in the hospital? Don’t be dramatic. There’s medicine at home. The reply was entirely expected, yet it still made my eyes sting. I swallowed the lump in my throat, letting go of the very last shred of hope I held for him. After three days, my condition improved slightly, and I practically forced Gwen to go back to work. At noon, as I went down to pick up my takeout, I walked past the nurses’ station and caught them gossiping. “Did you see that gorgeous couple in private room 502? They look like movie stars.” “And they’re so sweet together. It was just a mild allergy, but her boyfriend pulled strings to get our deputy director to run her allergen panels personally.” A cold, bitter feeling crept into my chest. Once upon a time, Nathan had been just as terrified for me. The first time I had a severe reaction, he had stayed by my bedside for twenty-four hours straight. As long as I couldn’t eat or drink, he refused to touch a single thing. He had never been one to show emotion, but that night, he wept as he held me close. “Vivi, you’re the only family I have left. Please don’t leave me.” Today, all I got was a text telling me to take my medicine. How passionate a man is when he loves you, and how utterly freezing he becomes when he doesn’t. Clutching my takeout bag, I turned around. But a casual glance through a half-open door froze me in my tracks. Inside private room 502, Nathan was leaning over a bed, tending to a young woman. Sienna. He was pouring her water, gently peeling a piece of fruit for her. Just a few nights ago, my throat had been terribly dry, and I had asked him for a glass of water. He had scoffed, “Is a sore throat keeping you from using your legs or your hands? I’ve had a brutal shift, Vivi. Can you give me a break?” I had felt so small, so pathetic. I wanted to explain that I was too dizzy to stand, but before I could get a word out, he had rolled over, taking most of the blanket with him. From that night on, I never asked him for anything again. Sienna pouted playfully, though her lips curved into a smug smile. “Dr. Nathan, it was just a little itch. You’re being way too dramatic.” Nathan maintained his usual stoic face, but his voice was remarkably gentle. “Allergic reactions can be lethal. Just lie still. Once the lab results are clear, I’ll take you out.” A dry laugh caught in my throat. So he did know allergies could kill. It was just that my life didn’t carry the same weight as someone else’s. I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message: Where are you? Half a minute later, the reply came: Working overtime. The chime of my phone seemed to catch his attention. Nathan looked up, his gaze sweeping over the hallway and landing directly on me. He held my eyes for less than a half-second before casually looking away, as if I were a complete stranger. Walking back to my ward, I pulled up my emergency contacts. Under Primary, it read: Nathan. Under Secondary: Gwen. Without a moment’s hesitation, I hit delete on his name. If he couldn’t be reached when my throat was swelling shut, there was no point in letting him hold that spot any longer. On the day I was discharged, I ran into Nathan right at the entrance of our apartment building. Sienna was trailing close behind him. The moment he spotted me, he instinctively stepped forward, shielding her slightly behind his shoulder. A protective reflex. “Sienna and I just got back from our business trip,” he explained quickly. “She got car sick, so I brought her over to rest for a bit. I didn’t think you’d be home during the day. If it bothers you, I can take her home right now.” His mouth kept moving, but I felt entirely detached. Aside from our arguments, Nathan was normally a man of few words around me. Now, whether out of guilt or something else, he was rambling in full, defensive sentences. He had said more to me in thirty seconds than he usually did in an entire day. Sienna kept her head low, her voice trembling like a kicked puppy. “Maybe I should go, Dr. Nathan. I don’t think your wife likes—” “I don’t mind,” I interrupted. A flicker of surprise crossed both their faces. After all, I had always been perfectly warm and welcoming to the other interns in his department. Sienna was the sole exception. It wasn’t an irrational hatred, either. I kept finding things she had “accidentally” left behind in Nathan’s car—a lipstick, a small pocket mirror, cute stickers. Every time I brought them up to him, Nathan would just scowl and mutter, “Impassive child’s play.” I had agreed back then. Only a child who wanted attention would try to mark her territory. What I hadn’t noticed at the time was the faint, amused curl at the corner of Nathan’s lips whenever he dismissed her. Until two months ago, that was. Sienna had texted me a picture of herself and Nathan lying on the same cot. That was the day I finally snapped. I threw the phone at him, screaming and demanding answers like a woman possessed. He had calmly explained that it was just a cot in the lab. They had both been fully clothed; what could they possibly have done? Besides, there were other researchers in the lab. Surely I didn’t think they’d sleep together with a third party in the room? Sienna had called me right on cue, sounding utterly apologetic. “I’m so sorry! It was just a joke. There were actually four of us in the room that night.” Nathan had chimed in, “If it bothers you that much, I’ll keep my distance from her.” Looking back, I realized how incredibly foolish I had been to buy into their absurd excuses. Once inside the apartment, Sienna headed straight for the master bedroom. Nathan grabbed her arm, casting a cautious look in my direction. I offered a thin smile. “It’s fine. Go ahead and rest.” I wouldn’t be using that bed anyway. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Nathan’s eyes. He seemed to search my face, desperate to find some sign of anger or jealousy. But my expression was a smooth, empty slate. Letting go of her arm, he muttered, “I’ll make lunch.” I nodded and sat down on the sofa. Moments later, Sienna’s voice drifted out. “Dr. Nathan, do you still have those tampons I left in your bag last time?” She popped her head out and stuck her tongue out sheepishly at me. “Sorry, I hate carrying a purse, so I just slip them into Nathan’s bag. I’m sensitive to most brands, and that’s the only one that doesn’t give me a rash.” Her eyes, however, sparkled with triumph. Nathan reached into the leather messenger bag I had bought him, retrieved a tampon, and handed it to her. Then he turned to look at me, his mouth opening as if to offer an explanation. I closed my eyes and leaned back, pretending to doze off. I felt his gaze lingering on my face for a long time before he finally walked into the kitchen. Nathan made a spread of four dishes—spicy pork with peppers, a cold spinach salad, stir-fried beef with celery, and a wild mushroom soup. Every single dish was heavily garnished with chopped scallions. Sienna emerged from the bedroom wearing one of my silk robes, letting out a delighted squeal. “Oh, wow! All my favorites! I’m going to eat so much!” I sat there, my silverware untouched. Nathan frowned, a hint of his usual impatience creeping into his tone. “If you don’t eat now, don’t ask me to cook for you when you get hungry tonight.” My voice was flat, devoid of any anger as I stated a simple fact. “I’m allergic to green onions.” Nathan’s hand froze, his fork hovering in mid-air. For once, his cold mask cracked. “Right. I forgot,” he muttered, sounding genuinely flustered. “I’ll whip up something else for you.” “Don’t worry about it.” I grabbed my purse from the counter. “You two enjoy. I’m going to stay at Gwen’s for a few days.” Before walking out, I looked at Sienna. “Make yourself at home.” Just as I was about to close the door behind me, Nathan’s hand shot out to block it. “Do you really have to be so petty with a kid?” he hissed under his breath. “I’m sending her home right after we eat.” I didn’t answer. Instead, my eyes fell on his left hand. “You’re wearing a ring,” I noted quietly. In our four years of marriage, he had never worn his wedding band. He had always claimed it was unsafe and impractical for a surgeon. Nathan quickly pulled his hand back, tucking his fingers out of sight. “Sienna insisted. She bought them as a joke.” He swallowed hard. “It’s not a couple’s ring, it’s just…” “Just asking,” I interrupted. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” He bit his lip, studying my face before his tone softened. “Go rest at Gwen’s then. I’ll pick you up tomorrow after my shift.” I didn’t reply. I just turned and walked down the stairs. It didn’t matter anymore. After today, who slept in our bed, whose tampons he carried, or whose matching ring he wore would no longer be my concern. On the cab ride over, we passed the jewelry boutique where we had bought our rings years ago. I asked the driver to pull over. Tracing the gold band on my finger, a memory from seven years ago surfaced. A stubborn boy had insisted he hated rings, and an angry girl had stormed off. A few weeks later, that same boy had knelt before her with the exact diamond ring she had coveted. “Will you be my only family?” he had whispered, his eyes shining. “In sickness and in health, until death do us part.” My vision cleared, blinking away the phantom memory. I pushed the glass doors open and walked up to the counter. “Do you buy back estate jewelry?” I asked. The next day, Gwen accompanied me back to the hospital for my follow-up appointment. My regular physician was away on a seminar, so I was squeezed into another specialist’s schedule. When I walked into the exam room, the older doctor looked at me in surprise. “Vivian?” I blinked, and then recognition clicked. “Dr. Harrison!” A rare smile broke across his otherwise stern face. “I remember you from your wedding with Nathan.” Dr. Harrison was Nathan’s mentor and one of the country’s leading immunologists. Nathan had promised years ago to bring me to his office for a thorough evaluation. But he had put it off, year after year, until the promise had faded into nothingness. After a series of tests, Dr. Harrison reviewed my charts. “Your physical allergens haven’t changed, Vivian. Which means this sudden flare-up is likely stress-induced. Have you been suffering from insomnia, severe anxiety, or depression lately?” I froze. A sudden, bitter wave of realization crashed over me. No wonder my health had been deteriorating over the past six months. It turned out my body was physically rejecting the misery of my marriage, even when my mind tried to play it down. On the ride back, Gwen spent the entire time cursing Nathan’s name. But I felt remarkably numb. Perhaps it was true what they said—when your physical health is failing, you lose the luxury of caring about heartbreak. My phone buzzed in my lap. Nathan: You went to see Dr. Harrison? Vivian: Yes. Nathan: Why didn’t you tell me? I could have gone with you. Vivian: It wasn’t planned. Just a coincidence. Nathan: He said there is still one test result pending. I’ll pick you up tonight, and we can go together tomorrow. My thumb brushed over the smooth envelope containing the divorce papers in my bag. Vivian: Okay. When I arrived at the apartment that evening, the place was spotless. He had clearly spent hours scrubbing it. He blocked my path just as I was heading toward the guest room. “Are you still mad at me?” I shook my head. “Then why aren’t you sleeping in our room?” I looked at him, then let out a single, honest word. “It’s dirty.” I meant it literally, but Nathan flinched as if I had slapped him. “She’s just a kid, Vivian,” he snapped, his jaw tightening. “Be reasonable. Know when to stop.” Know when to stop. It had been years since I last heard him use that phrase. Hearing it now dragged up memories I thought I had buried long ago. I had fallen for him at first sight during our university’s freshman orientation. He had been an ice king, cold and unapproachable. After several of my attempts to talk to him were met with silence, I began asking around. I learned he was an orphan, surviving solely on academic grants, part-time jobs, and the kindness of his professors. I convinced myself his cold exterior was just a shield. I believed that if I showered him with enough warmth, I could melt the ice. I used to pick the best pieces of meat from my plate and drop them onto his. During his track meets, I would scream his name so loudly my voice drowned out the entire crowd. Over the holidays, when everyone else went home and he had nowhere to go, I stayed behind to keep him company. Whenever my persistence wore him down, he would sigh and mutter those exact words: Know when to stop. But I had ignored them. “Come to my place for Thanksgiving! My mom’s cooking is incredible!” “Don’t be sad. From now on, I’m your family!” Then, during our sophomore year, a ceiling fan in our classroom came loose and plummeted toward my head. Amid the screams of our classmates, Nathan had thrown his body over mine. The heavy, muffled groan he let out as the metal blades struck his back was a sound I remembered for years. In the quiet years that followed, that memory had saved our relationship a thousand times over. But as I looked at his hardened jawline now, I couldn’t find a single trace of the boy who had once risked his life to shield me. I gently pulled my arm out of his grasp and walked past him into the master bedroom. I ripped back the duvet. Nothing. I slid open the nightstand drawer. Nothing. Finally, I knelt down and reached under the bed. My fingers brushed against silk. I pulled out a black lace bralette. It wasn’t mine. Nathan’s lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. I let out a soft, mocking laugh and tossed the lace directly into his face. “You’re the one who needs to know when to stop, Nathan.” Without waiting for a reply, I walked back to the guest room and locked the door. The next morning, Nathan took a late shift so he could drive me to the hospital. But the moment we arrived at the clinic, I saw Sienna sitting in the waiting area.

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1 At our high school reunion, my wife excused herself, claiming she had to step out for a quick errand. I waited three hours, but she never returned. Just as I was about to go look for her, I caught the sound of her voice near the venue’s exit, talking to her best friend, Amy. “Tristan is getting married tomorrow,” my wife said, her voice laced with a breathless intensity. “I want to spend tonight wild with him. I don’t want to live the rest of my life with any regrets.” “Make sure you keep my cover,” she added. Amy sighed. “Are you really still that obsessed with him? Is Tristan really that special?” My wife let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Tristan isn’t as gentle or sweet as Hugh, but he’s a beast in bed. He gives me a thrill Hugh never could.” My mind went entirely blank. I quietly slipped back into the venue. A few minutes after I sat down, my wife walked back in, holding Amy’s arm with an innocent, bright smile. “Babe,” she said, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “Amy and I have so much catching up to do. I’m going to stay at her place tonight.” “Remember to pick me up tomorrow morning, okay?” The harsh fluorescent lights of the private room made my eyes sting. I stared at her, unable to speak. When she had left earlier, she was wearing a lavender knit sweater that elegantly exposed her collarbones. Now, she was wearing a high-collared white button-up shirt, buttoned all the way to the top. My chest felt incredibly tight. I forced out a strained nod. “The room is a bit stuffy,” I muttered, pushing myself up. “I’m going to step out for some fresh air.” The biting night air rushed down my throat as I leaned against the brick wall outside, drawing in deep, ragged breaths. My hand instinctively reached into my pocket for a pack of cigarettes, only to find it empty. I had quit smoking three years ago because Madeline hated the smell. When I finally walked back toward the room, the door was slightly ajar. Through the narrow gap, I could see the chaos inside. Madeline was sitting next to a man, her cheeks flushed red from the alcohol, her eyes hazy. She was leaning heavily against his shoulder, and the man was gently stroking her back. That man was Tristan. “What took you so long, Tristan?” one of our former classmates teased, raising a glass. “Did some pretty girl hold you up?” Tristan let out a low chuckle, casting a long, deliberate look at Madeline. “Yeah, you could say a little wildcat kept me busy.” Their eyes locked in a heated, silent exchange. Tristan whispered something in her ear, making Madeline bite her lip and smile. The rest of the room didn’t seem surprised at all. One of our old classmates, his face bright red and his speech slurred, let out a dramatic sigh. “Man, back in high school, we all thought you two would end up married. Who knew Tristan would transfer, and Madeline would end up with the new transfer kid, Hugh?” “Honestly, you two were always the perfect match. Hugh never really fit in with us.” Another drunk classmate chimed in. “Come on, Tristan, level with us. Those three hours Madeline ran off tonight, she was with you, wasn’t she?” Madeline held up her wine glass, her skin flushed. The room was warm, and she casually unbuttoned the top of her collar. I saw the dark, dark red marks staining her pale throat. Hickeys. She laughed, completely unbothered. “Yeah, I was with Tristan. What about it?” Our former class president, Brody, burst into laughter. “We knew it! That’s why we kept dragging Hugh into drinking games to keep him distracted. We didn’t expect you to have Amy cover for you too.” Their laughter echoed through the hallway, ringing in my ears. I stared at the group through the crack in the door, barely recognizing the people I had called friends. “Hugh only hangs around us because his family has money,” someone sneered. “He looks down on us anyway. Of course we’re going to help you cover this up!” Just last week, that same classmate had been pleading with me over dinner, begging for a meeting with my father to secure a supply contract for his struggling business. Now, he spoke of me with nothing but contempt. The drinking games continued inside, and Madeline lost a round. The group began chanting, demanding she do something daring as a penalty. Madeline rested her chin on her hand, thinking for a moment before snapping her fingers. “I’ve got it!” “Tristan and I will sleep together tonight, right under Hugh’s nose. How’s that for a thrill?” Amy nudged her nervously. “Hugh has been gone for a while. He could walk back in any second. Be careful.” Madeline rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with disdain. “Please. Hugh is an idiot. He’s incredibly easy to fool.” 2 I pushed the door open, and the rowdy laughter in the room instantly died. Madeline quickly put on a bright, seamless smile, grasping Amy’s hand. “Amy and I haven’t seen each other in nearly eight years, Hugh. We’re moving to New York in the fall, so we won’t get many chances to hang out. I really want to spend tonight with her.” Seeing my silence, Amy offered a tight laugh. “Can’t bear to let her go for one night, Hugh? Don’t be so possessive. Just because she married into your wealthy family doesn’t mean she has to give up her friends.” Madeline’s expression turned cold and defensive. “Hugh, when you proposed, you swore you’d never suffocate me. Now I just want to spend one night with my friend, and you’re acting like this? I married you, Hugh. I didn’t sell myself to you.” The classmates in the room shifted uncomfortably, casting disapproving glances at me. I picked up a stray glass of whiskey from the table and downed it in one swallow. The burn tore down my throat, leaving my voice hoarse. “I didn’t say you couldn’t go. Have fun.” Madeline’s eyes lit up. She stepped over and pressed a brief, sweet kiss to my cheek. “You’re the best, babe.” As her lips brushed my skin, a wave of cheap cologne and stale tobacco washed over me. An overwhelming wave of nausea hit my stomach. I pushed her away, leaning over the trash can in the corner, dry-heaving violently. The music in the room seemed to halt. Madeline’s face twisted in anger. “Hugh, what is your problem?!” Brody stepped forward, trying to ease the tension. “Are you okay, Hugh? Did you have too much to drink?” I forced down the sickness rising in my chest, catching the nervous, calculating look in Brody’s eyes. “I’m fine. Just drank too much on an empty stomach. I need to head back.” Madeline crossed her arms, waiting for me to apologize and coax her like I always did whenever she threw a tantrum. But this time, I remained silent. I had no intention of apologizing to the woman who had just bragged about cheating on me. Brody quickly tried to redirect the room’s attention. “Alright, let’s keep the night going! Tonight isn’t just a reunion, it’s also a bachelor party for Tristan. He’s tying the knot tomorrow.” “Hugh, you and Tristan missed each other by a hair back in high school. You should officially meet.” Tristan stepped forward, extending a hand toward me. “I transferred out in a rush back then, so I never got to meet the guy who took my desk. It’s been ten years, but it’s good to finally meet you. I’m Tristan.” 3 On his ring finger was a simple red string band. I had seen an identical red string ring tucked away in the back of Madeline’s jewelry box a year ago. When I asked about it, she had laughed it off, calling it a cheap high school souvenir. I looked at his face. Tristan’s name had been an omnipresent shadow throughout my high school years. Twelve years ago, my father’s job relocation forced me to transfer to Brightwood Academy. My very first day there was the exact day Tristan transferred out. I was assigned his old desk, and my name took his place at the top of the academic leaderboard. Whenever I aced an exam, the teacher would sigh and say, “If Tristan were still here, you two would be tied for first.” When I won the state track championship, the coach had patted my shoulder and mused, “If Tristan were running, it would have been a real battle.” Even during classroom cleanups, the student council reps would whisper, “From behind, you look exactly like Tristan. Same height, same build.” I had found his picture once in the school archives. He was wearing his varsity jacket, smiling with an easy, radiant confidence. The entire school adored him. Except Madeline. Whenever other girls swooned over his memory, she would scoff, her face contorting with anger. Once, when a group of girls was looking at his old yearbook photo, she had snatched the book, slammed it onto the floor, and stomped on it. “He’s nothing but a cowardly fraud,” she had spat. When we started dating, I asked her why she hated him so much. She had clenched her jaw, her eyes dark. “Because he’s a liar. A complete coward. Everyone is just too blind to see it.” She refused to say anything more. But whenever people compared me to him, she would always snap, “Hugh is Hugh, and Tristan is Tristan. There is no comparison.” I had foolishly believed she was protecting my dignity. Now, I realized she was protecting her own secret. I reached out and shook Tristan’s hand, offering a polite, empty smile. With Brody steering the conversation, the room quickly warmed up again, with classmates crowding around Tristan to ask about his wedding. Madeline’s eyes never left him. There was a look of intense adoration and longing in her gaze—a look she had never once directed at me in our four years of marriage. I sat quietly in the dark corner of the booth, feeling like a ghost at my own table. Someone nudged Madeline, asking if she had prepared a special gift for her old classmate’s wedding. Madeline’s cheeks flushed a light pink, her eyes darting away for a split second. “I’m still putting the finishing touches on it,” she murmured. “But it will definitely be a night to remember.”

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1 I was beaten into a permanent disability by the school bully. Yet, my father, a star attorney, took the case as the defense lawyer for the main attacker. In court, his words were sharp and flawless as he successfully argued for a verdict of not guilty. He saved the girl who had nearly taken my life. All because the girl’s mother was the benefactor who had sponsored his college education decades ago. When I confronted him, my father stood tall, entirely self-righteous. “Everyone is equal before the law, Tessa,” he said. “I cannot abandon my professional ethics just because my daughter was the victim. Brenda was just impulsive. I couldn’t bear to see her entire life ruined over one mistake.” As I watched the girl walk out of the courthouse, a free woman, a smile stretched across my face. I pulled the disownment papers from my bag—the ones I had prepared days ago—and threw them directly at his face. “Since you value your professional ethics so highly, and since you love repaying favors so much,” I said, “I hope you do a good job defending the rest of your life.” My father didn’t even look at the document. To him, this was just another dramatic tantrum from his teenage daughter. “Have you had enough, Tessa?” He picked up the sheets of paper, crumpling them into a ball without reading a single line, and tossed them into the trash bin. “Tonight, Glenda is hosting a dinner at The Gilded Fork to celebrate. You’re coming with me.” “Brenda will be there too. I’ll have her offer you a proper apology, and we can put this entire mess behind us.” I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. Put it behind us? I was still confined to a wheelchair, and the girl who had shattered my knee had just walked free. And he wanted me to attend her victory dinner? “I’m not going,” I said quietly, turning my wheelchair toward the exit. Behind me, my father’s voice rose, thick with suppressed anger. “Tessa! Can you stop being so incredibly petty? Glenda’s family isn’t wealthy. She spent half her monthly wages on this dinner. If you don’t show up, you’re disrespecting me, and you’re disrespecting her!” I didn’t look back. I wheeled myself forward as fast as my arms could manage, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of his voice. When I rolled past the courthouse doors, the blinding afternoon sun made my head spin. My mother’s sedan was parked at the curb. Seeing me emerge, she scrambled out of the driver’s seat, her face pale and anxious. “Tessa! How did it go? What was the verdict?” Looking at this woman, who had lived her entire life as a quiet shadow in our household, a wave of profound exhaustion washed over me. “Not guilty,” I said. My mother froze, her mouth slightly open. “But… how? Your father said the trial was just a formality. He said he was going to negotiate a suspended sentence. How could she be acquitted?” I let out a dry laugh. “Mom, your husband is a star lawyer. If he wants someone to walk free, they walk free. Even if that person broke his own daughter’s leg.” My mother wrung her hands, her eyes darting away in sheer discomfort. “Well… your father must have had his reasons. Glenda did help him back in the day…” “Save it,” I interrupted, cutting her off. “Take me to the hospital. I’m not going home.” She hesitated, glancing back at the courthouse steps. “Actually… your father texted me. He wants us to head straight to The Gilded Fork. He said if we don’t show up, he’ll freeze my credit cards.” I stared at her. Fifty years old, and she lived like a dog on a leash, entirely dependent on my father’s money, never daring to raise her voice. “Then you should go,” I said, pulling out my phone to hail an accessible rideshare. “I’ll go by myself.” “Tessa, please don’t be like this—” She reached out to grab my arm, but I yanked it away. “Mom, if you still want to be my mother, do not go to that dinner. If you go, don’t ever bother coming to see me again.” My ride pulled up to the curb. The driver quickly got out, gently helping me into the passenger seat. Through the glass window, I saw my mother standing on the pavement, her face twisted in agonizing conflict. But in the end, she let out a quiet sigh, turned back to her sedan, and drove off. She headed toward the restaurant. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall in the silence of the car. This was my family. A self-righteous saint for a father, and a weak, submissive coward for a mother. And I was nothing but an inconvenient casualty in their lives. Shortly after I was settled into my hospital bed, my phone began to buzz incessantly. I opened social media. Brenda had posted a photo album of her celebration dinner. In the pictures, she was raising a champagne glass, her face flushed red with joy. My father sat at the head of the table, offering his signature warm, distinguished smile. Her caption read: Thank you, Uncle Victor! Justice may be delayed, but it is never denied! Cheers! Justice? What a joke. I opened the comments. They were filled with congratulations from her friends. Brenda is queen! Attorney Victor is legendary! Where’s the cripple? Didn’t she come to pour the drinks? Brenda had replied: Probably crying in her bedroom, haha. My fingers shook against the screen. Suddenly, a notification popped up. A bank transfer of two thousand dollars from my father. His note read: Stop throwing tantrums. Use this to buy yourself something nice. I told Glenda she doesn’t have to worry about your medical expenses. Their family is struggling, and we need to show some compassion. I stared at the words, a wave of intense nausea rising in my throat. I hurled my phone against the brick wall. 2 I stayed in the hospital for three days. During that time, my father never visited once. Instead, Glenda showed up, clutching a plastic basket filled with bruised, rotting apples. She wore her dusty work uniform, standing awkwardly at the entrance of my room. “Tessa,” she said, placing the basket on my nightstand. She rubbed her calloused hands together. “Brenda is just a kid. Sometimes she gets rough and doesn’t know her own strength. I’ve already scolded her.” “Look, your father got her off, so let’s call it even, okay?” Even? I stared at the decaying apples she had likely picked up from a bargain bin. A dry laugh caught in my throat. “My leg is worth a basket of rotten garbage?” Glenda’s face hardened, but she quickly forced her polite smile back on. “Oh, Tessa, you shouldn’t talk like that. When your father was in college, I scraped together every penny to keep him fed. People need to show some gratitude. Look at how reasonable your father is.” “Besides, your family has plenty of money. You don’t need us to pay for your hospital bills. My Brenda still needs to get married, she can’t be carrying a debt.” In that moment, I understood the depths of human shamelessness. This family was a nest of leeches, and my father was the idiot who kept offering them his veins. “Get out,” I said, pointing at the door. “Take your garbage and get the hell out of my room.” Glenda’s smile vanished. “What an insolent, disrespectful brat. No wonder Brenda had to teach you a lesson.” She snatched her basket, muttering curses under her breath, and spat on the linoleum floor before slamming the door behind her. I pressed the call button, asking the nurse to come in and disinfect the room. It was repulsive. That afternoon, the head nurse came in, a worried look on her face as she held an invoice. “Tessa… your account is overdrawn. If we don’t receive a payment soon, we’ll have to stop your medications.” I blinked. “Overdrawn? Did my father… did Victor not pay the deposit?” The nurse shook her head. “He came by yesterday and withdrew the fifty-thousand-dollar pre-payment. He said… he said the other family was facing financial difficulties, so he was lending them the money to help them get by. He told us you could cover the hospital bills with your own savings.” A loud ringing filled my ears. The last thread of my patience snapped. He had taken my medical funds and handed them to the girl who had crippled me. Was this the act of a biological father? With trembling hands, I borrowed the nurse’s phone and dialed his number. It rang for a long time before connecting. In the background, I could hear the clatter of tiles and my father’s booming laughter. “Hello? Who is this?” “It’s me.” The line went quiet for a second, and then his voice turned sharp and impatient. “Tessa? Where is your phone? Why are you calling from an unknown number?” “Victor, did you withdraw my surgery deposit?” I asked, using his name. “Is that how you speak to your father?” he barked. “Glenda’s family is trying to buy an apartment in the city, and they were short on the down payment. I figured your hospital expenses weren’t that urgent, so I lent them the funds. Don’t you have your own savings? Use that first. Don’t be so incredibly selfish, Tessa. Learn to help those in need.” Help those in need. He was stripping my bones to keep them warm. “That was my surgery money!” I screamed into the receiver. “The surgeon said I need my second reconstructive procedure next week, or I’ll be permanently disabled! You gave my medical funds to Brenda’s family for an apartment? Are you out of your mind?!” Through the line, I heard Glenda’s voice in the background. “Oh, Victor, if Tessa needs it for her leg, we can wait on the apartment…” Then came my father’s firm, reassuring tone. “Don’t listen to her, Glenda. Doctors always exaggerate. It’s not that serious.” “Tessa, figure it out yourself. Stop bothering me.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen, my body freezing. The nurse cast a look of deep pity in my direction. “Tessa… is there anyone else? Can you call your mother?” My mother? The woman who couldn’t even buy personal items without begging for his permission? I shook my head. “No. Please prepare my discharge papers.” “But your leg—” “I’m done treating it.” Since the world was rotten to the core, I had no reason to play the good daughter anymore. I went back to our house while they were out. I packed up everything that belonged to me, leaving only the signed disownment papers on his desk. My vintage sneaker collection, my limited-edition collectibles, and the small gold bars I had accumulated over the years—I posted them all on online marketplace apps, selling them at a fraction of their value. I only accepted cash. With the money, I rented a small, accessible apartment in a neighboring town and checked myself into a private orthopedic clinic. Though I had missed the optimal window for treatment, the surgeon assured me that with enough therapy, I could walk again, though running or any intense physical activity was out of the question. I had been the captain of my varsity basketball team. Now, I was a cripple. But I didn’t shed a single tear. My tears had run dry that afternoon in the hospital.

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“What’s with this tie?” I tossed the brand-new tie, tags still attached, onto the coffee table. Ethan Gray glanced at it without even frowning. “The new management trainee slipped it into my bag when I wasn’t paying attention.” “Mia Smith?” “Who else would be clueless enough to do something like that?” I let out a cold laugh. The entire company knew we were sworn enemies—I slashed his budgets, and he mocked me for not understanding technology. What nobody knew was that we’d been secretly married for seven years and already had a five-year-old child. The next day, she cried in the cafeteria: “President Gray told me privately that he feels suffocated in his marriage…” On the third day, she deliberately scalded herself in the stairwell and tearfully accused me of pushing her. Cyberbullying. Doxxing. Number one on the trending charts. Mia Smith, do you know what an Audit Director does best? —Gather evidence. I found a brand-new tie in Ethan Gray’s briefcase. The pattern was tacky, and the tag was still attached. “Explain this.” I tossed the tie onto the coffee table with a thud. Ethan had just come out of the shower. He glanced at it, and his brow furrowed so deeply you could crush a fly between them. “One of the new management trainees gave it to me.” He toweled his hair while kicking the tie farther away with disgust. “Said she wanted to thank me for teaching her how to write weekly reports. I refused it, but she stuffed it into my bag when I wasn’t looking.” “Mia Smith?” “Who else would be that clueless?” I let out a cold laugh. Not only clueless, but bold too. As the Group Audit Director, my daily job was finding faults. And Ethan was the Group VP of R&D. In the eyes of the company’s thousand-plus employees, we were sworn enemies who couldn’t stand each other. Last month, I had just killed a three-million-dollar budget for the R&D department. Ethan publicly mocked me in a meeting for not understanding technology, and I fired back in the group chat that he didn’t understand compliance. The entire company thought we were at each other’s throats. Who would’ve thought that this cold and aloof VP Ethan heated up milk for me every night and blow-dried my hair? We went from high school uniforms to wedding dresses. Seven years of secret marriage, and we even had a five-year-old child. “Did she pull something again today?” I asked. “Yeah.” Ethan sat down beside me and naturally took the audit report from my hands to help me organize it. “In front of a dozen people, she insisted on reaching over to straighten my collar, saying my tie was crooked.” “You let her touch you?” “I asked her if she wanted to file for workers’ compensation for a workplace injury.” Ethan’s sharp tongue was as reliable as ever. “Then she started crying, saying I was too mean and didn’t understand a young woman’s feelings.” “Feelings?” I picked up that tie. “Giving a male superior such a personal item—that’s sexual harassment.” She’d been on the job less than two months, hadn’t accomplished much, and was putting all her energy into trying to seduce executives. Treating the workplace like a dating game. In my audit red-line standards, this counted as a high-risk uncontrollable factor. “Let’s just throw it away.” Ethan got up to grab the trash can. “Wait.” I stopped him. “It’d be such a waste to throw it away.” “What are you planning?” “We should let everyone see just how ‘polite’ Miss Smith is.” I put the tie back in the bag. Ethan understood the look in my eyes and smiled. “You’re going to mess with her again?” “I’m in audit.” I turned off the living room light, my tone calm. “Tomorrow, keep her away from you. That perfume of hers is giving me a headache.”

The next morning, I brought the bag to the company’s front desk. The receptionist had just finished applying her lipstick. When she saw me, she immediately stood up. “Good morning, Miss Shaw.” “Morning.” I placed the bag on the counter. “Someone left this with Mr. Gray yesterday. Put it in lost and found.” “Okay, should I log who lost it?” “No need.” I adjusted my cuffs. “It’s nothing valuable anyway. If no one claims it, just treat it as scrap.” With that, I swiped my card and entered the elevator. At three in the afternoon, I went to the R&D department to review last quarter’s expense reports. Ethan was discussing architecture with several core team members. I sat at a nearby workstation checking data. Ethan didn’t even glance at me, still stone-faced while reprimanding people. “Who set this parameter? Did water get into their brain?” The engineer being scolded kept his head down, not daring to make a sound. The atmosphere was oppressive. Until a high-pitched voice broke the silence. “Everyone’s working so hard! I bought afternoon tea for you all!” Mia Smith walked in carrying two large bags from Starbucks. She was wearing a knit sweater today with a rather low neckline, bending over to distribute coffee to the engineers around her. “Thanks, Mia!” “Mia, you’re so thoughtful!” Several male colleagues smiled as they accepted the drinks. Mia finally walked to Ethan’s desk and pulled out a delicate little box. It was a pink heart-shaped mousse cake. “Mr. Gray, I made this myself—low sugar, low calorie. I saved it especially for you.” She held the cake with both hands, leaning forward so that half her chest was practically pressed against Ethan’s desk. She even made a point of displaying the sticky note on it, which had a smiley face drawn on it. I closed my folder with a sharp snap. Mia acted as if she’d only just noticed me. “Oh my! Miss Shaw, you’re here too?” She looked at me with an innocent expression. “I’m so sorry, Miss Shaw. I thought you were in the audit department, so I didn’t prepare one for you.” The room went quiet for a second. This cheap tactic—I couldn’t even be bothered to respond. “It’s fine.” I said coolly. “I don’t eat street vendor food, and I don’t eat unlicensed products.” Mia’s face froze. “This is my own baking, made with all imported ingredients…” “Without a food business license, it’s an unlicensed product.” I cut her off. “Also, it’s work hours right now.” She bit her lip and looked at Ethan with grievance, her eyes instantly turning red. “Mr. Gray, I just wanted everyone to relax a bit. Why is Miss Shaw targeting me like this…” Ethan finally looked up from his screen. He glanced at the pink cake, then at Mia. His gaze was like he was looking at an idiot. “The R&D department has regulations prohibiting any food or sugary drinks from being brought in.” Ethan’s voice had no warmth whatsoever. “Employee handbook, Chapter 3, Article 5. Did you not memorize it?” Mia froze. “I… I thought it was just afternoon tea…” “Take it out.” Ethan pointed at the door. “Next time I see these non-compliant items on my desk, you’ll disappear along with them.” Mia’s tears actually fell. She picked up the cake and ran out. The surrounding engineers exchanged glances and quickly lowered their heads to drink their coffee, not daring to speak. I reopened my folder and continued checking the data. Ethan turned his head. “Miss Shaw, are you done checking that parameter from earlier?” “Not yet.” I didn’t look up. “This travel expense claim is over budget. Resubmit it.” “Got it. I’ll follow Miss Shaw’s instructions.” There was a trace of barely perceptible amusement in his tone. But I knew Mia definitely wouldn’t let this go. Sure enough, within half an hour, an anonymous post appeared on the company’s internal forum.

That anonymous post hung on the company’s internal forum all afternoon and got a lot of traction. The content was several hundred words long, accusing me of being heartless and not understanding how to care for subordinates. Although no names were mentioned, the label “audit department’s female demon” applied to no one in the entire company except me. In the comments section, several newly registered accounts kept stirring things up: “I heard she’s jealous of that pretty management trainee, so she’s taking it out on Mr. Gray.” “Older women are scary. When their own lives aren’t going well, they can’t stand to see others happy.” When my assistant, Zoe, handed me the tablet, her hands were shaking. “Sarah, do you need me to contact IT to delete the post? This is damaging your reputation…” “No need.” I scrolled through the screen and casually took a few screenshots to save. “Why delete it? This is all evidence.” This level of public opinion attack was nothing—not even an itch to me. As an auditor, I’d seen plenty of dirty things. Compared to that, this kind of venting from a young woman was both childish and low-level. I glanced out the window. Rain was pouring down. The weather forecast showed there would be a major rainstorm tonight. Ethan sent me a message: “Meet at the garage. I have an umbrella.” I packed up my things and headed downstairs. To avoid suspicion, we never left the office together. Usually he’d go get the car first, I’d wait for him, then get in. We’d kept this secret relationship going for seven years. I arrived at the garage. Ethan’s car was already parked in a corner. I opened the back door and quickly slipped inside. The windows had the darkest privacy film—you couldn’t see inside from outside at all. “This rain is really coming down.” Ethan handed me a dry towel. “Wipe your hair. The entrance had a big draft just now, and you got rained on, didn’t you?” “I’m fine.” I took the towel. “Let’s go.” Ethan had just shifted into gear and hadn’t even pressed the gas when a white figure suddenly rushed out. “Screech—” Ethan slammed on the brakes. My body lurched forward. I frowned and looked ahead. It was Mia Smith. She didn’t have an umbrella. Her white shirt was already soaked through, clinging tightly to her body, with her black bra visible underneath. Her hair was plastered wetly to her face. She looked like a pitiful little white rabbit. She stood in front of the car, blocking the way. If Ethan had reacted a second slower, he might have hit her. “Is she crazy?” Ethan’s tone instantly dropped to freezing. He hated people who didn’t follow traffic rules. Mia came around to the driver’s side and tapped lightly on the window. “Mr. Gray… Mr. Gray…” Her voice was tearful, trembling badly. I sat in the back seat, arms crossed, watching this scene with cold eyes. “Should I open the window?” Ethan glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Go ahead.” I said flatly. “Let’s see what she wants.” Ethan lowered the window. Rain immediately drifted in through the gap. “Mr. Gray.” Mia’s fingers were white from the cold, looking utterly pitiful. “The rain is too heavy. I can’t get a cab, and the garage is so dark. I’m scared being here alone…” As she spoke, she tried to press her soaked chest against the window gap. “Mr. Gray, could you drop me off at the nearest subway station… I’m so cold.” Any other man might have let her in the car. Even if he didn’t drive her home, he’d at least let her get in to escape the rain. Unfortunately for her, she was dealing with Ethan. Ethan had maintained his virtue for so many years—he wouldn’t be seduced that easily. Ethan looked at her calmly. “The company lobby has heating and spare umbrellas.” Ethan’s voice was clear and cold. “The administration department has a contract with a taxi service. The front desk has one-touch cab calling, and the company reimburses the full fare. You don’t need to hail a cab yourself.” Ethan pointed at the dashcam. “My car is a private vehicle. It doesn’t have commercial operating qualifications. My car is only open to my immediate family members.” “Mia Smith, are you my immediate family?” Mia froze. Unwilling to give up, she bit her lip, trembling even harder. “But Mr. Gray… I’m really cold. I feel dizzy right now. Can’t you help me?” She reached for the back door handle. Ethan quickly locked the doors. She pulled twice but couldn’t open it. Unable to see me inside, she could only see her own disheveled reflection. “Mr. Gray?” Ethan’s hand hovered over the window button. “If you’re really sick, I can call 911 for you right now. An ambulance will get here faster than I can.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Ethan’s mouth was savage. Fortunately, the person outside couldn’t hear me. “Also, as a management trainee, even during off-hours, you need to maintain your professional image.” “Dressed like this, blocking a male superior’s car—if word gets out, it’ll affect your probation evaluation.” Mia’s face turned deathly pale. She instinctively covered her chest and stepped back. “Mr. Gray, how can you think of me like that… I just…” “Move.” Ethan didn’t want to hear any more nonsense. Reluctantly, she bit her teeth and backed away, looking back every few steps. Ethan raised the window and hit the gas. The car rushed into the rain. “Brilliant.” I clapped. “Worthy of Mr. Gray with his excellent sense of boundaries.” Ethan said, “If I’d let her in, I’d have had to get the car deep-cleaned inside and out. Not worth it.” The car merged onto the elevated highway. “Honey.” “Hmm?” “Next time something like this happens, can you handle it directly?” There was a hint of helplessness in Ethan’s tone. “I’d like to see you tear into a homewrecker too. Always making me play the villain.” I said with a smile, “Tearing into her now would be no fun. Let’s wait a bit longer. She’s not going to give up that easily.”

The atmosphere at the company was strange the next day. Several employees huddled together, their eyes occasionally drifting toward me. Back in my office, I logged into the internal network. The anonymous section was lively, as expected. Someone had posted vaguely about last night’s incident. The comments section had a very unified tone—Mr. Gray definitely wanted to help, but didn’t dare. Because the company had an ice queen making all the executives live in fear, worried that one wrong step would get them reported by the audit department. I wore this scapegoat quite steadily. At noon, I went to the cafeteria. It was peak lunch hour. I picked up a tray and deliberately chose a corner seat. Mia Smith was wearing a V-neck knit sweater with a rather low neckline today. At her table sat four other new management trainees. “Mia, are you okay? Why are you coughing so badly?” “I’m fine.” Mia’s voice was soft and sweet, with a heavy nasal tone. “I just got rained on last night and have a slight fever.” “Mr. Gray was really too much, leaving you there alone in that downpour.” “Don’t say that about Mr. Gray.” Mia’s watery eyes were full of protectiveness. “Mr. Gray is actually a very good person. Last night I saw the reluctance in his eyes.” “Then why didn’t he let you in the car?” “Because it wouldn’t be compliant.” Mia sighed. “If Mr. Gray had given me a ride, people might have said he had improper conduct. Wouldn’t that harm him?” “Plus, Mr. Gray sent me a private message on SnapChat to explain.” “He even said he’s been feeling quite oppressed.” I put down my fork. I opened my phone’s recording app. Spreading rumors about the audit department abusing power, fabricating private messages from executives, implying an executive had personal feelings for her. After recording for two minutes, I saved the audio and stood up. “Ahem…” Mia caught sight of me from the corner of her eye and was so startled her spoon clinked against the bowl. “M-Miss Shaw.” The table of trainees immediately fell silent, heads down eating their rice. Mia quickly adjusted her expression. “Hello, Miss Shaw. I just felt a bit dizzy and lost my balance.” She looked up at me with reddened eyes, looking like a scared little white rabbit. “Miss Shaw, you’re eating too? There’s no space here. Maybe you could sit at the next table?” I ignored her performance, my gaze coldly sweeping across her phone screen. “Mia Smith, as a management trainee, what did you score on your onboarding training test?” She paused, then said timidly, “N-ninety-five.” “Then recite the employee code of conduct.” She bit her lip, looking at me blankly. “Spreading false statements in the workplace, discussing company management systems inappropriately, slandering superiors.” I looked down at her from my position. “You just said the audit department is overstepping its bounds? That Mr. Gray has no choice in the matter?” “I… I didn’t mean it like that.” Tears immediately filled her eyes. She waved her hands frantically. “I was just feeling bad that Mr. Gray was being misunderstood. I wanted to help explain…” “Explain?” Ethan walked over. Mia said in a high-pitched voice, “Mr. Gray… Miss Shaw misunderstood me. I was just saying that last night you sent a SnapChat message to care—” Ethan stepped aside. Mia lunged forward into empty air and barely managed to steady herself by grabbing the chair back. Her posture was awkward. Ethan pulled out his phone and directly opened his chat with Mia. The interface was clean, with only one system notification about accepting a friend request. The date was her first day on the job. After that, completely blank. “Mia Smith, I have severe OCD and germaphobia.” Ethan’s voice wasn’t loud, but loud enough for everyone around to hear clearly. “I don’t add random people, I don’t respond to nonsense, and I definitely wouldn’t send this kind of ambiguous message to an employee who tried to violate protocol by hitching a ride. Do you have delusions?” The cafeteria fell dead silent. The few trainees who had been backing her up moments ago now had faces turning green. Mia’s face flushed like a pig’s liver. Tears hung on her lashes—falling or not falling, both equally awkward. “Mr. Gray… I…” “Also.” Ethan looked at me. “Miss Shaw enforcing compliance is her job.” With that, he didn’t even glance at Mia and turned to leave.

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