My husband has severe social anxiety and a stutter. When we went to City Hall to get our marriage license, he was so nervous he couldn’t say “I do.” We became a running joke for the clerks. When my father had a sudden heart attack, I cried and begged him to call 911, but his stutter was so bad he couldn’t get the address out clearly. He delayed the paramedics past the golden hour of survival. At my father’s funeral, my relatives all tried to console me. “He didn’t do it on purpose. It’s an illness. Your father wouldn’t blame him. You two need to move forward and live your lives.” I nodded numbly and believed them. Until I was sorting through my father’s belongings and found a security recording. In the video, right after my father collapsed, my husband took out his phone. In a smooth, perfectly articulate voice, he called a woman named “Zoe.” “Babe, don’t be mad anymore. The old man is finally out of the picture. As soon as I handle the funeral, I’ll pick you up from the airport. We’re going to the Maldives.” He hung up, looked down at my father’s dying body, and practiced his stutter three times before finally dialing 911. It turned out his fluency was never meant for me or my family. … The funeral was over. I clutched my father’s black-and-white portrait, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they drew blood. But the sharp sting was nothing, not even a tenth of the pain tearing my heart apart. Leo’s stammering voice came from behind me. “St-Stella… I’m… I’m s-so sorry.” “I’m… I’m u-useless… I… I k-killed Dad…” I didn’t turn around. He spoke again, his voice choked with sobs. “H-hit me… yell at m-me… just… just d-don’t ignore me…” I walked into the bedroom with the portrait and locked the door behind me. Leo pounded on the door, his cries muffled. “Stella… o-open the door… I was wr-wrong…” I leaned against the cool wood, listening to him weep, and a single thought echoed in my mind. The son of a bitch is a damn good actor. I sat down at my computer and plugged in the USB drive from my father’s study. The security footage flickered to life. My father was on the floor, clutching his chest. Leo stood over him, pulled out his phone, and made a call. “Babe, don’t be mad anymore. The old man is finally out of the picture.” His voice was clear, fluid, without a hint of a stutter. “As soon as I handle the funeral, I’ll pick you up from the airport. We’re going to the Maldives. I’ve already booked that hotel you wanted.” He was smiling, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never seen. After he hung up, he walked over to my father, squatted down, and began to rehearse over his dying body. “I… I… I c-can’t… c-can’t get through… I’m s-so s-sorry…” Once. Twice. Three times. He practiced with the focus of a stage actor perfecting a line. Only then did he dial 911, reporting the address in that pathetic, broken voice. I watched the entire video, my hand shaking so violently I couldn’t control the mouse. I didn’t sleep that night. The next morning, I put on makeup and took out the divorce papers I had already prepared. When Leo saw me emerge from the bedroom, his eyes darted away. “St-Stella… d-did you sleep… at all? I… I m-made you some oatmeal…” I slid the papers across the table to him. “Sign them.” He froze for a second before his eyes focused on the document. The words “Divorce Agreement” were printed in bold at the top. The color drained from his face. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around my legs. “N-no… d-don’t… Stella…” “If… if you l-leave me… I… I can’t live w-without you…” I looked down at him. He was a mess of tears and snot, his words barely intelligible. “I… I kn-know… I’m useless…” “B-but… I r-really love you… please… d-don’t… don’t leave me…” I had seen this act countless times. Whenever he felt slighted or bullied out in the world, he would come home and cling to me just like this, crying. And I would feel a pang of sympathy, comfort him, and tell him, “It’s okay. I’m here.” Now, it just made my stomach turn. The front door was suddenly thrown open. Leo’s sister, Sarah, stormed in and shoved me hard. “Stella, have you lost your mind?” “Your father was just buried, and you’re forcing Leo to divorce you? Do you have any humanity at all?” I stumbled back a few steps. She wasn’t finished. “He has an illness, you know that! He’s already blaming himself. Are you trying to push him over the edge?” she shrieked. “What happened to your dad was an accident! Leo didn’t want it to happen! After everything he’s done for you all these years, how can you treat him like this?” I laughed. She stopped, stunned. “What are you laughing at?” I didn’t answer. I just bent down and picked up the divorce papers she had kicked aside. Leo was still on the floor, shaking. “S-Sarah… stop… It’s n-not her fault… it’s all m-me…” His sister helped him up, her voice softening with pity. “Don’t be scared, Leo. I won’t let her bully you.” She then shot me a venomous look. “I’m telling you, Stella, you can forget about this divorce! Do you have any idea how many opportunities Leo gave up for you? He could have been at a top firm, but he stayed in this dead-end town to help take care of your father!” I looked from her to Leo. His head was bowed, his shoulders trembling even more violently. I folded the divorce papers and went back to my room. Behind me, I heard Sarah’s triumphant sneer. “Good. You know what’s good for you.” I closed the door and leaned against it. I knew a divorce wasn’t happening today. The next day, the entire family descended. The living room was packed with Leo’s parents, his sister, and the whole clan of aunts and uncles. Leo’s mother started. “Stella, dear, your father just passed away. If you try to divorce Leo now, your father won’t be able to rest in peace.” “Leo has his condition, it’s true, but his love for you is real.” She started to cry, grabbing my hand. “It’s our Leo who has wronged you, but you know about his illness. Please, just be patient with him. Our family will make it up to you, I promise.” Sarah immediately chimed in. “Exactly! Leo has sacrificed so much for you. How can you be so heartless? What happened to your dad was a tragic accident.” I sat on the sofa, watching them perform. Leo knelt before me, his eyes red and swollen. “St-Stella… I… I was wrong… p-please… don’t leave me…” His mother dabbed her eyes. “Look at him. You’re driving him mad.” Just as I was about to speak, the doorbell rang. My father’s lawyer stood on the doorstep, holding a file. “Ms. Davis, according to your father’s will, I am required to read it in the presence of the family.” The living room fell silent. The lawyer cleared his throat. “Mr. Davis leaves all company shares, properties, and savings entirely to his daughter, Stella Davis.” The moment he finished, the expressions on every one of their faces changed. Leo’s mother dropped my hand and plastered on a smile. “Oh, my! My dear father-in-law truly doted on Stella.” Sarah’s tone shifted instantly. “Stella, I was a bit harsh earlier. Don’t take it to heart. Leo is so lucky to have you.” The aunts and uncles all started nodding and agreeing, praising me for being a capable and virtuous wife. Leo was frozen in place, a flicker of panic in his eyes. He clearly hadn’t expected this. I watched him, a cold smile touching my lips. After the lawyer left, the family’s act shifted into high gear. Leo’s mother clutched my arm. “Stella, dear, you’ll be running such a large company now. You must be overwhelmed. Why don’t you let Leo help you? His speech isn’t great, but he’s a very steady worker.” Sarah leaned in. “She’s right. You’re husband and wife. You should share your fortunes and your burdens.” I nodded. “I’ll think about it.” That night, my phone buzzed. It was a picture from Zoe. She and Leo were leaning close, and he was smiling that same tender smile. The caption read: Your dad’s dead and you’re worried about a company? Let my Leo handle it. You should focus on your grief. I stared at the photo for a long moment, then a slow, deliberate smile spread across my face. The next day, I slipped a document into a folder of procurement contracts. On top were several supplier agreements that needed to be signed. At the very bottom, I placed a “Full Power of Attorney for Corporate Affairs,” which included a clause voluntarily relinquishing all personal claims to shareholdings under specific circumstances. I handed the folder to Leo. “There’s some company business. Can you sign these for me? I’m in no mood to look at them.” He took the folder, a flash of triumph in his eyes. He thought I was relying on him, that I couldn’t function without him. He picked up a pen and, in each signature box, he scrawled his name with a confident flourish. His handwriting was fluid, not the cramped script of someone with social anxiety. He signed the last page without even looking at it. I took the folder back and returned to my room. Behind me, I heard his stammering voice. “St-Stella… y-you should… get some r-rest…” I closed the door and opened the folder. On the last page, under “Full Power of Attorney,” Leo’s bold signature was perfectly clear. He thought he now held the real power in the company. He became busy, frequently staying out late, if he came home at all. When I asked, it was always the same excuse. “C-company… b-busy… h-had to… entertain clients…” The ambition and glee were practically spilling out of his eyes. He thought I couldn’t see it. The truth was, I didn’t have time for him. Every day, I went to my father’s favorite tea house and personally sorted through the books and tea sets he had left behind. The fragrant steam calmed me, and for the first time in a long time, my heart felt at peace. One day, I was polishing a clay teapot when the building manager called. “Ms. Davis? Someone is here to move furniture into your apartment. They say they’re family, but we needed to confirm with you.” Family? My father was gone, my mother passed years ago. I had no other family. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I drove home immediately. In the parking lot, movers were unloading brand-new, ornate European furniture from a large truck. And in the hallway outside my apartment, the custom mahogany bedroom set my parents had commissioned for their wedding was piled up haphazardly, covered in dust. A woman in a flashy dress was directing the movers with her hands on her hips. It was Zoe. She saw me and didn’t even flinch. She just crossed her arms, a smug grin on her face. “Stella, you’re back!” she chirped, walking over as if we were old friends. “These old antiques take up so much space, and the style is so dated. I’m helping you upgrade to something modern. You’ll love it.” I looked at the furniture, tossed aside like garbage—the testament to my parents’ love—and my body started to shake with rage. My voice was ice. “Who told you you could touch my things?” “Get out.” Zoe laughed as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke. She pulled a set of keys from her purse and dangled them in my face. “Leo gave them to me. He said this is my home now, too. He was worried you’d be lonely and wanted me to keep you company.” “Oh, and by the way,” she added, pointing to my father’s study. “That room is so depressing. It has that old man smell. I’m going to turn it into a media room, with the best surround sound system and a projector. We can watch movies at home. Won’t that be great?” My father’s study. The room that held his life’s work, his most treasured collections. My reason snapped. I grabbed a porcelain vase from the entryway table—one of my father’s favorites—and without a second thought, I drew my arm back to smash it into her gloating face.

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1 At seventeen, I was tied up in an abandoned warehouse by my nemesis, left to burn alive. To save me, Christian armor took thirteen knife wounds meant for me. One of his legs was permanently damaged. He held me, his blood staining my white dress, but he was smiling. “Don’t be afraid, Elara. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.” Later, fearing I would be targeted again, he left for the Golden Triangle. For seven years, he fought his way up from nothing, becoming a fearsome warlord whose name alone struck terror into the hearts of men. He returned in a blaze of glory and, to the envy of everyone, made me his wife—the sole mistress of his domain. Until I saw the combat medic he brought back with him. She wore a pristine white coat, one hand resting on her pregnant belly, her smile both gentle and cruel. “Christian said a woman like you, who crawled out of the gutter, isn’t worthy of bearing his child. The day I give birth to his firstborn son will be the day you die.” I laughed. Right in front of her, I began to slowly, methodically clean a Browning pistol. As she screamed in terror, I aimed the barrel at her stomach and spoke to my trusted subordinate beside me. “Record this. Send it to Christian.” “Tell him his offspring and I can’t both live. Tell him to choose.” … When Christian arrived, the muzzle of my gun was pressed firmly against Amelia’s pregnant belly. He was still in his combat fatigues, dusted with the grime of the field, an aura of violence clinging to him that never quite washed away. “Put the gun down.” His voice was unnervingly calm, betraying no emotion. Amelia looked as if she’d seen her savior, tears streaming down her face. “Christian, save me… our baby… She’s insane, she’s going to kill our child…” I smiled, pressing the gun a little harder. “Choose, Christian.” He didn’t even glance at Amelia. His dark, piercing eyes were fixed on me. We were like two cornered animals in a standoff. He seemed to be searching my face for any hint that this was a joke, a bluff. He found none. The killing intent in my eyes was thicker than the scent of blood on his uniform. The air was dead silent. The subordinate next to me had palms slick with cold sweat. Christian’s personal guards had already raised their weapons, a dozen black muzzles all aimed at my head. One word from him, and I’d be turned into a sieve. Finally, he moved. He walked toward me, each step landing like a hammer blow on my heart. My knuckles were white around the grip of the gun. “Elara, stop messing around.” He reached me, his voice now laced with a soft, coaxing tone. The next second, he struck. His hand shot out like a viper, clamping around my wrist. He disarmed me with an effortless twist, so fast I had no time to react. BANG! A gunshot echoed through the space. Warm blood splattered across my face. My pupils contracted in shock. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Amelia. It was my subordinate, the one who had been recording for me. A neat hole had appeared in the center of his forehead. He crumpled to the ground. Christian holstered his pistol, his expression blank. He didn’t spare Amelia a single glance, just spoke coldly to the medic behind her. “Take Ms. Vance back to her room to rest. She is not to take a single step outside without my permission.” Amelia’s sobs caught in her throat, the triumphant look on her face frozen in place. She didn’t understand. But I was beginning to. Christian turned, his tall frame casting a shadow over me. He raised a hand—the fingertips calloused and smelling of gunpowder—and gently wiped the blood from my cheek. The gesture was as tender as if he were handling a priceless treasure. “Elara, I told you I would protect you for the rest of my life.” “So don’t do dangerous things like this again.” “And don’t force my hand.” His voice was soft, but it carried the unyielding weight of a command. With that, he tossed the gun aside and strode away. He never once asked me why I had done it. It was as if the man who had served me for five years was nothing more than an ant crushed under his boot. I stood frozen, an icy chill spreading through my heart. I raised my own hand and wiped away the last of the drying blood. I looked at my subordinate’s wide, unseeing eyes and gently closed them for him. Christian armor. Seven years to claw his way from a nobody in the Golden Triangle to an absolute monarch. He had taken more lives than I had eaten meals. He was no longer the boy who would foolishly take thirteen knife wounds for me. I had been so naive. I thought he had risked his life to save me, left his home to build an empire for me, married me in splendor… because he loved me. But it was never love. It was possession. I was his prize, the spoils of a war he had almost died to win. He could spoil me, indulge me, put me on a pedestal. But he would never, ever allow me to challenge his authority. The child in Amelia’s womb was his bloodline. His property. And I had tried to destroy his property. So he killed my man as a warning. I went back to our room. Everything was just as I liked it—opulent, decadent. On my vanity sat the pink diamond he had acquired for me at a European auction just last week. Only you deserve the most expensive things in the world, he had said. How ironic it seemed now. I pulled open a drawer. Inside was an array of modified firearms. Christian had never restricted my access to them. My Elara can do whatever she wants, he used to say. I picked up a small, silver pistol and began to polish it. Footsteps approached the door. Christian entered, carrying a bowl of congee. “You haven’t eaten all day. I had the kitchen make this for you.” He set the bowl down and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on the crown of my head. His voice was tired. “Elara, the child in Amelia’s womb must be born.” “That’s an order.” I said nothing, just stared at our reflection in the mirror. I once thought this was the happiest image in the world. “She is the only daughter of the Kachin State’s chief,” he explained, as if discussing a routine business matter. “She is a hostage in our peace talks. Her child is the collateral that secures our alliance.” “So, you slept with her for the alliance, too?” I finally asked, my voice as still and dead as a stagnant pond. His arms around me tensed. “Yes.” A single word. No hesitation, no remorse. I laughed. “You’re disgusting, Christian.” His body jolted. He tightened his grip, so hard it felt like he was trying to crush me into his very bones. “Elara, don’t say that.” “Once the situation here is stable, I will get rid of her. Then… we can go back to how things were. All right?” There was a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of panic in his voice. I didn’t answer him. The night passed in silence. The next day, under the pretext of my being “traumatized,” Christian placed me under house arrest. For my own protection, he called it. It wasn’t long before Amelia came calling, oozing triumph. She dismissed the guards and sauntered in, her pregnant belly leading the way. “Elara, you must hate me so much right now.” I leaned back on the sofa, lazily flipping through a magazine, not even bothering to look up. “Do you really think Christian explaining things to you means he still cares? Don’t be a fool. He’s just afraid you’ll screw up his plans. A prostitute who crawled out of the gutter really thinks she’s the lady of the manor?” Her words grew uglier, more venomous. “Did you know, when he holds me, he says he’s been sick of your lifeless body for years? If you weren’t still useful, he wouldn’t even bother to touch you.” The corner of the magazine crumpled in my hand. I finally lifted my eyes to hers, my gaze like ice. “Are you finished?” My stare made her falter, but she quickly straightened up. “What? You want to hit me? Do you dare? Your man’s body isn’t even cold yet. Elara, I suggest you recognize your place. Be a good little ornament. When I give birth to the firstborn son, Christian will make me his official wife. And on that day, I’ll make you kneel and lick my shoes.” I looked at her face, twisted with jealousy, and suddenly found it amusing. “Amelia, do you really think that just because Christian is protecting you, I won’t touch you?” I set the magazine down and rose slowly, deliberately. I walked toward her, step by step. My aura forced her to back away instinctively. “What do you want? I’m telling you, I’m carrying—” SLAP! A sharp, clean crack of my hand across her face cut her off. She clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you hit me?” “Hit you?” I grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back. “I’m going to kill you.” I dragged her toward the second-floor terrace, her screams echoing through the villa. “Help! Someone, help me! Elara’s gone mad!” The guards outside rushed in, but froze when they saw the scene, too afraid to intervene. I slammed Amelia against the railing, half her body dangling over the edge. Below was a cliff of jagged rocks, a drop of a hundred feet. A fall would be certain death. “Elara! Let me go! You’re crazy!” Amelia shrieked, her face white with terror. I leaned in close, my lips brushing her ear, and whispered in a voice only we could hear, “You wanted to be the mistress of this land, didn’t you? I’ll grant your wish. Jump from here, and you’ll be the shortest-reigning mistress in history.” I applied a little pressure. Amelia let out a final, deathly scream. Just then, Christian and his men arrived. “Stop!” he roared, his voice thick with an anger he couldn’t contain. I turned and met his furious dark eyes. But a slow smile spread across my face. “Christian, you’re here.” “Look. Your woman is in my hands. Tell me, should I let her live, or should I let her die?” Christian’s face was so dark it looked like it could drip ink. The guards behind him raised their guns in unison once again. Amelia was sobbing. “Christian, save me! She’s going to kill me! She’s going to kill our baby!” He stared at me, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. “Elara, I’m saying this one last time. Let her go. Otherwise, don’t blame me for forgetting our past.” “Our past?” I laughed as if it were the funniest joke in the world. “Is there anything left between us? Not since you started sleeping with other women for profit. Not since you killed my man for a piece of collateral. Christian, from the moment you brought her here, we were finished.” My words were a knife, twisting in his heart. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes, but it was quickly consumed by rage. “So you’re going to destroy everything I’ve built?” “Yes,” I admitted without hesitation. “I’m going to destroy your child, destroy your alliance, destroy everything you hold dear!” “You’re insane!” he snarled, veins bulging on his forehead. “I’m not insane.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I just don’t love you anymore.” Those words were more lethal than any bullet. Christian’s body visibly swayed. The fire in his eyes went out, replaced by a raw panic I couldn’t decipher. As we stood locked in our standoff, a sudden wave of nausea washed over me, followed by a familiar, sharp pain in my lower abdomen. My face went pale, and my grip on Amelia loosened. She seized the opportunity, scrambling away to hide behind Christian. I clutched my stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. It’s over. My period was two weeks late. I looked at Christian, my mind a complete blank. He seemed to notice something was wrong, his brow furrowing. “What is it?” Before I could answer, the villa’s doctor rushed in. He saw the color of my face and immediately moved to support me. “Ma’am, you—” “Get away from me!” I shoved him off. I couldn’t let Christian know. I couldn’t. But the strange feeling in my body was intensifying. My vision tunneled to black, and I lost consciousness. I woke up in a hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling my nose. Christian was sitting by my bed, holding my hand, his expression unreadable. He saw I was awake. “Elara…” he began, his voice hoarse. I ignored him, my hand instinctively going to my stomach. It was still flat, but I knew something had changed. In the doorway, the doctor was speaking in a low voice to Christian’s second-in-command. “…She’s two months along. Her constitution is weak, and this episode has stressed the pregnancy. She needs complete rest. This child is a miracle.” My heart sank like a stone. A child. I was carrying Christian’s child. What was I going to do? Christian overheard the doctor. His body went rigid, and he turned to look at me. Our eyes met. A storm of emotions swirled in their depths: shock, elation, and a flicker of… something I couldn’t name. A struggle. After a long moment, he dismissed everyone. The room was silent, occupied by only the two of us. He walked to my side and bent down, as if to embrace me. I turned my head away. His hands stopped in mid-air. He awkwardly pulled them back. “Elara, we’re having a baby.” His voice trembled with a joy he couldn’t conceal. I looked at him, my expression cold. “Get rid of it.” The smile on his face vanished, frozen in place.

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Mike Betts. The boy whose life I once shattered. He returned the favor, burning my world to the ground. He drove my parents to their graves and left me with nothing, forcing me to claw through garbage and fight dogs for their leftovers. Everyone said he’d finally gotten his revenge. But the night I threw myself into the ocean, Mike—who couldn’t swim a stroke—dove in after me. He lost an arm to a shark just to keep me alive. Then he spent billions on a team of specialists, all to erase my past and make me his wife. And it worked. Loving him became my entire world. But on our tenth anniversary, I saw him slip into the live-in nurse’s room at midnight. I heard her breathless cries, her voice melting into the memory of the woman who had always been his one true love. Through the wall, I heard Mike’s ragged whisper, laced with tenderness. “I’m only doing this to make her pain sharper when she finally remembers. You know you’ve always been the real light in my life, Tessa.” I popped the amnesia pill I’d been hiding in my palm. Mike didn’t know. I’d never forgotten a thing. But from now on, I would forget everything. Including him. 1 I waited for five hours before Mike came back to our room. The damp air clinging to him was thick with the scent of Tessa’s floral body wash, a cloying, humid smell. He practically jumped out of his skin when he saw I was still awake. A coldness seeped into my bones, but I forced a smile. “Why the big reaction? Did you do something you shouldn’t have?” His expression flickered through a series of emotions, his eyes darting away, unable to meet mine. “A client was being difficult. We drank too much. I just took a quick shower in the guest lounge.” The excuse was so clumsy it was almost funny. His reputation as ‘The Reaper’ in the corporate world wasn’t for show. What fool would dare force him into a late-night drinking session? I didn’t bother calling his bluff. Instead, I slowly pushed up the silk sleeve of my robe. A hideous, angry burn covered a large patch of my forearm. “Tessa did this,” I said, my voice flat. “I want her gone.” Mike’s gaze fell on the wound. His brow furrowed for a second, then smoothed out. “It’s just a small burn. I’ll have the doctor look at it tomorrow.” “She’s just a kid, fresh out of school, a bit clumsy,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. “You need to be more understanding. I’ll have her apologize, and I’ll make sure she covers the medical bills.” I almost laughed. Years ago, his own mother had called me a vixen, and he’d banished her back to their provincial hometown on the spot, not even letting her pack a suitcase. For all the years of our marriage, he’d replaced the entire household staff if I so much as shed a few more hairs than usual. He’d once told me, his voice raw with emotion, “Evelyn, you have no one but me now. I won’t let anyone, or anything, hurt you.” But now, this piece of ravaged flesh on my wrist was, in his words, “just a small burn.” Playing the part of the dutiful wife, I pulled my sleeve back down, hiding the ugly mark. “I know. I won’t hold it against a kid.” A kid who was the same age as me. I pressed my fingers to my temples and drew in a sharp breath. “My head hurts.” A side effect of the memory-wiping drugs. This time, though, the pain was real. “Hurting again?” His voice was heavy with fatigue. “It’s been years, you should be over this by now. Evelyn, stop using your old ailments as an excuse. You’re running the staff ragged.” He paused, his tone growing colder. “And don’t wear me out, either. I have an international conference call early tomorrow. I’m exhausted.” A dead silence fell over the room. The stabbing pain migrated from my head to my heart. “Okay,” I whispered. My fingers brushed against the cool metal on my left hand. Without any pressure, the wedding band I’d worn for years simply slid off. It felt like a thousand needles were piercing my brain all at once, the pain so intense that my vision swam with black spots. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, willing the tears not to fall. The memory of Mike, his eyes red-rimmed as he placed this ring on my finger, shattered frame by frame, flaking away until it was nothing but a blur. The next morning at breakfast, Mike couldn’t find me. He tore through the mansion in a panic, even calling in a private security team to search the grounds. They finally found me in the wine cellar. Coiled beside me was a highly venomous viper. The snake’s head lunged forward. “Don’t move!” Without a second thought, Mike threw himself over me, shielding me with his body. The fangs sank into his neck. His face turned a ghastly shade of blue-black almost instantly. He was rushed into the ER. For twenty-four hours, they pumped him full of new blood, barely pulling him back from the brink. The doctor, his face grim, tore into Mike’s assistant. “Why were you ten minutes late? He was this close to dying!” Every pair of eyes in the room turned on me like daggers. It was my fault. On the way to the hospital, I’d insisted we go back for my teddy bear, wasting precious time. Mike’s assistant of ten years finally snapped, his voice shaking with rage. “A stupid bear is more important than Mr. Betts’s life? After everything he’s done for you, you don’t even care if he lives or dies!” Mike’s expression hardened instantly. “You’re fired. See HR on your way out.” Silence returned to the room. Only then did he turn to me, forcing a reassuring smile onto his pale face. “Don’t listen to him. If it makes you happy, I’d give you my life, not just some teddy bear. I wouldn’t even blink.” I hugged the faded, well-worn bear and gave him a goofy smile. It was strange. Mike wasn’t on any medication, so why was his memory so bad? This wasn’t just some teddy bear. It was the one he’d given me back in high school. It had cost five hundred dollars. A sum that had taken him five months of scrubbing toilets to save up. For me, back then, that wasn’t even enough to cover the cost of the gift wrap. So, in front of the entire class, I’d thrown the bear in the trash. Then I’d pulled out ten thousand dollars in cash and thrown it in his face. “Here. Go get a taste of the real world, and stop trying to disgust me with your trash.” My gaze drifted to his remaining hand. Years of a pampered life had made it smooth and soft. A far cry from the hands of that boy, raw and peeling from corrosive cleaning agents, swollen with chilblains. Mike’s hands were never meant to look like that. Even the woman I was now could see that. The door to the hospital room banged open. Tessa burst in, throwing herself at Mike’s bedside, wailing. The force of her entry sent me stumbling to the floor. The burn on my arm, which she’d inflicted days earlier, split open. Blood soaked through my sleeve. Mike’s eyes, filled with concern, were only for Tessa. It wasn’t until a nurse came in for rounds that he seemed to remember I was even in the room. He looked at me, a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes. “Tessa’s just… overly empathetic. Don’t read too much into it.” Then, as if suddenly remembering my headache, he told the doctor to take me for a scan. But through it all, he never once looked directly at me. He never saw the crimson stain spreading across my sleeve. The doctor stepped away to grab something, leaving me alone in the hallway. Suddenly, a violent force yanked me backward. Tessa had me on the ground, snatching the teddy bear from my arms and shoving it hard against my face. Her voice was a venomous hiss. “You bitch! Now you’ll know what it feels like to suffocate!” Panic seized me. Cotton filled my nose and mouth, and the world dissolved into a frantic, suffocating blackness. I struggled, my subconscious screaming Mike’s name. My nails scraped bloody trails on the linoleum floor. The hospital room was just a few feet away, but no one came. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I heard Mike’s voice, calm and distant. I thought I was saved. But he just watched, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to the doctor who had followed him out. “Dr. Lee, if you would. Process this memory for Evelyn. Just like all the other times.” Tessa’s shrill voice exploded in my head. “You would’ve learned your lesson by now if Mike didn’t wipe your memory every single time!” So this wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t the first time Mike had let Tessa hurt me. A torrent of shattered memories crashed into me, each one a shard of glass in my mind. On our wedding day, Tessa moved into our marital home. Time and again, under the guise of getting revenge for Mike, she’d thrown scalding coffee on me, pushed me down the stairs. She’d even pinned him to the sofa right in front of me. He’d struggled, pushed her away. Until that one night, when he finally gave in. He’d stood there, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes bloodshot as they met mine. His voice was a raw rasp. “Evelyn, there’s too much baggage between us.” He was right. The humiliation of our youth, the ruin of my family, the arm he’d lost for me. It was a sea of blood and vengeance that we could never cross. I was dragged onto the treatment chair, electrodes clinging to my scalp. Mike walked over, his face a mask of complicated emotions. Seeing the tear tracks on my cheeks, he leaned down and kissed me. “Sleep now, Evelyn. When you wake up, everything will be new again.” As he reached for the switch, the doctor’s hesitant voice cut through the air. “Mr. Betts, the memory wipes have become too frequent. It could cause permanent damage to Mrs. Betts’s brain.” Mike paused, his voice laced with a strange helplessness. “But I can’t let her hate me.” Zzzt. A raw jolt of electricity tore through my brain, scrambling the ugly, painful past into meaningless static. My fingers went limp. The teddy bear I’d been clutching so tightly rolled off the bed and into the trash can beside it. Just like that day in high school. Only this time, no one was coming to fish it out. I slept for a long, long time. When I opened my eyes, I saw a handsome, vaguely familiar face looking down at me. I frowned, yanking my hand from his tight grip. “Who are you?” The man’s body went rigid, and a wave of pure panic flooded his eyes. “Evelyn, it’s me, Mike. Your husband.” He grabbed my hand again, his grip so tight it felt like he might shatter the bones. “We’ve been married for three years. You love me, remember? You told me I was your entire life.” When I didn’t respond, he started rambling, repeating how much I loved him over and over. I rubbed my throbbing temples. I seemed to remember the facts he was stating, but the feeling—the love—was gone, as if it had been surgically carved out of me. I found myself soothing him out of habit. “I’m sorry, my head is killing me.” Mike’s expression froze, looking deeply unnatural. He glanced away, his eyes landing on the teddy bear in the trash can. A deep frown creased his forehead, and he immediately called for a nurse. “What is this piece of junk? Get it out of here, now!” I watched the bear, its fur stained with dried, dark red blood, and subconsciously touched a small cut on my own lip. Mike’s body tensed. “Did you have a nightmare?” he blurted out, then quickly added, “Dreams aren’t real, Evelyn. Don’t believe any of it.” His attempt to cover his tracks was clumsy and laughable, but I couldn’t even summon the energy to question it. I just watched them take the bear away. “A ruined old bear,” I said calmly. “It was time to throw it out.” Just like our love. Mike must have sensed something was wrong. Though doctors had ordered him on strict bed rest, he started clinging to me, staying by my side nearly twenty-four hours a day. Except, of course, at night. I always woke up when he slipped out of bed to go to Tessa. Sometimes, they would even come back to our bedroom, making love by the side of the bed where I lay. “Mike, when are you going to let Evelyn get her memories back?” Tessa’s voice, choked with tears, was startlingly clear in the spaces between their passion. “You’ve sacrificed ten years of marriage for your revenge, and I’ve waited ten years for you. It’s enough. It’s really enough.” “Soon,” Mike would always say. Lost in his own world, he never saw the venomous hatred in Tessa’s eyes when she looked at me. She started secretly taking my medication. She didn’t know that Mike, terrified I might discover their affair, was already adding even more drugs to my meals every day. My memory began to fray, huge blank patches appearing in my days. I’d often sit by the window for hours, staring at nothing. Mike seemed pleased with this. He saw it as me being less clingy and seemed relieved. How ironic. After all the effort he’d put into turning me into a broken woman whose world revolved only around him, he was now tired of the burden. I said nothing. I just went on with the slow, quiet process of unloving him. Until the night it all exploded. During dinner, the front doors of the mansion were thrown open. Tessa, her hair a mess, burst in and dropped to her knees in front of me. “My mother has a heart condition! Come after me if you want, but leave my family out of this!” she shrieked, her voice thick with sobs, as if I’d committed some unforgivable crime. Outside, a sea of flashing lights pulsed against the windows. Reporters had surrounded the house. “Mr. Betts, do you have any comment on your wife’s online post, in which she accuses you and Ms. Vance of having an affair?” “Mr. Betts, was your decade-long devotion all a lie?” For ten years, the story of Mike Betts’s undying love for me was the fairy tale of our social circle. Now, the fairy tale was shattered, and with a third party involved, all the blame was aimed squarely at Tessa. The reporters’ microphones were practically in her face, their questions sharp and cruel. Mike’s face darkened, his eyes a brewing storm as he looked at me. But in the end, he didn’t touch me. He just pulled Tessa to her feet and told her he would handle it. He turned away, calling his assistant, telling them to arrange for Tessa and her entire family to be sent abroad. Tessa’s eyes went cold. She furiously tapped on her phone. Less than a minute later, Mike’s phone rang. Tessa’s parents, distraught from the news, had been in a fatal car accident. Tessa crawled toward me, her hands clawing at the leg of my pants. “I was wrong, I was so wrong…” she howled, her words a jumbled mess, yet she skillfully directed all the blame onto me. “You warned me in high school… not to take what was yours… I should have learned my lesson when I got expelled… Now my parents are dead… I’ve ruined my family…” Mike’s eyes turned blood-red. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so fierce I thought the bones would snap. “How could you be so vicious?!” Tessa wailed, banging her head on the floor before me. “I’m begging you, leave my family alone! I don’t want anything anymore…”

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I was scrolling through social media when a video titled “The Cutest Couple at Comic-Con” popped up. The comments explained that the girl cosplaying the female lead was a recent graduate, an intern. The man with her was her boss, whom she’d dragged along to fill in. “How come other people’s bosses are so handsome and doting? I’m so jealous!” “Right? My boss is a bald, penny-pinching fossil who only knows how to exploit us!” I shook my head and chuckled, my thoughts drifting to my own husband. Arthur, a software engineer with a STEM background, was the very definition of a strict, demanding boss. His shirts were always meticulously buttoned to the top, and he showed no mercy to anyone. Even during the two years I worked as his assistant, the smallest mistake would earn me a public berating until I cried. His employees secretly called him “The Ice King.” Curiosity piqued, I zoomed in on the video. It felt like a lightning strike. The man in full cosplay makeup, his costume open to reveal a set of defined abs… The man spinning the young intern under a shower of confetti petals… It was my husband, Arthur. 1 I stared at the screen, my fingers digging into the back of my phone until they ached. I couldn’t believe the man on the screen, so transformed and carefree, was the same husband who approached every aspect of his life with rigid precision. My hand trembled as I looked up the date of the convention. Last Saturday. My birthday. The same day Arthur told me he had a work dinner and wouldn’t be home. I had never once doubted his word. In my mind, Arthur was more earnest and serious than anyone I knew; he didn’t have the capacity to lie. But this video was a vicious slap in the face. The front door clicked open. Arthur was home. My neck was stiff as I remained on the sofa, not getting up to greet him as I usually did. He walked a few steps into the living room, his brow slowly furrowing. “Is dinner not ready yet?” I blinked. The dry, perfunctory question, so typical of our married life, sounded especially jarring after watching the video. Forcing a smile, I stood and took the jacket he handed me. “I’ll… go get the food.” As he moved his arm, a pink crystal bracelet slipped out from under his cuff. My breath hitched. I instinctively grabbed his hand. “Where did this come from?” Arthur’s expression flickered with something unnatural when he saw my shocked gaze. But just as quickly, his face settled back into its usual cool indifference. “It’s a gift from an employee. She said it’s good for the company’s finances. What’s wrong?” Arthur, the man who only ever wore a single watch and sometimes found even his wedding ring too much of a hassle, suddenly believed in good luck charms? I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “It doesn’t suit you. Take it off.” “If you want financial luck, I got that charm from the temple, remember? I’ll go get it for you.” His brow tightened, and he shut me down with an impatient tone. “No need. I think the pink crystal is fine.” “I’m hungry. Can you serve dinner?” With that, he turned and walked to the dining table. I went into the kitchen, borrowed a friend’s account, and sent a friend request to the intern whose name I’d just looked up. Her most recent post was a picture of two wrists, one wearing the pink bracelet, intertwined. The caption read: “Hehe, bought matching bracelets with my first intern paycheck. My grumpy boss loves it! ;)” The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the counter. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I scrolled through the intern’s profile—Chloe’s profile—like a form of self-torture. Traces of Arthur were everywhere in the vibrant life she documented. “Oopsie, spilled coffee on my grumpy boss’s files today! Luckily, a few pastries made everything better. He wasn’t even mad! Hehe!” “Told my grumpy boss if he didn’t go to Comic-Con with me as my cosplay partner, I was gonna quit. Hmph.” 2 Looking at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror, I made a decision. The next day at noon, I took the soup I’d prepared and went to Arthur’s office. As luck would have it, he was in a meeting. I waited in his office, my eyes idly scanning the stack of documents on his desk. A frown immediately creased my brow. The formatting was a mess, riddled with typos, and, to my astonishment, sprinkled with cutesy emoticons. Stunned, I immediately called for his assistant, Sean. “Who did this? How did this sloppy mess end up on Mr. Hayes’ desk?” “Get it out of here and have them redo it. Now.” I knew Arthur’s standards. If he saw this, he would explode and verbally tear the person responsible to shreds. But Sean looked incredibly uncomfortable. He stammered that it was fine, that Mr. Hayes wouldn’t mind. Frustrated, I grabbed the document and walked out of the office, demanding to know who had prepared it. Better for me to point out the mistake now so it could be fixed, rather than wait for Arthur’s inevitable wrath. Everyone exchanged strange, awkward glances. Then, a sweet, chirpy voice came from behind me. “I did it. What’s wrong with it? Why does it need to be changed?” I turned around to see a group of people emerging from the main conference room. Arthur was at the front. And pressed close to his side was Chloe. Arthur’s gaze fell on the document in my hand, and his brow furrowed slightly. My heart skipped a beat. So it was her. Well, she’d walked right into the line of fire. Arthur might be lenient about trivial matters, but when it came to his work, he was an absolute perfectionist. But his next words sent a chill through my veins. “Sean, didn’t I have you go over this with her three times? How is it still wrong?” Chloe, completely unafraid, stuck her tongue out playfully. “Oh, come on, Sean explains things so fast! I couldn’t keep up.” Arthur rubbed his temples. His expression was one of weary resignation, but there wasn’t a hint of anger. “Fine. Come to my office after work. I’ll teach you how to do it myself.” I looked up, my eyes wide with disbelief. In that moment, the man in front of me felt like a complete stranger. Not the Arthur I had loved for ten years and been married to for six. The stares from the surrounding employees felt like invisible slaps across my face. Some were amused, some were scornful, and some were tinged with pity. “Who is that woman? Acting so high and mighty. Doesn’t she know Chloe is special to the boss?” “Yeah, the Ice King only ever yells at us. Chloe could probably burn the building down and get away with it.” “Shh, keep it down. That’s his wife!” Just moments ago, I was the one laying down the law. Now, my face was burning with humiliation. Arthur, however, seemed completely oblivious to my discomfort. His tone was cool and detached. “What are you doing here?” My arm fell to my side, all my strength gone. “I made your favorite soup and brought it for you…” Before I could finish, Chloe let out another theatrical gasp. “Oh, Mr. Hayes, I ordered you fried chicken and coke for lunch! I even used two of my coupons for it.” A small smile touched Arthur’s lips, as if he found her antics charming. “Alright. We can’t let those coupons go to waste.” To me, he offered only a single, dismissive sentence. “Take the soup home. Stop acting like a damn housekeeper.” 3 By the time I got home, the soup was cold. So was my heart. Arthur had never been good at taking care of himself. He’d worked himself to the bone during the start-up phase of his company and developed serious stomach problems. I was the one who had quit my job to meticulously research healthy recipes and medicinal broths, nursing him back to health. All those small, detailed acts of love, in his eyes, were no different from what a housekeeper did. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped me. In the ten years I’d been with Arthur, I never knew he was capable of such blatant favoritism. That evening, Arthur came home. As he walked in, he instinctively pressed a hand to his stomach. I knew the fried chicken and coke would have upset it. A bowl of warm, stomach-soothing soup was already on the table. When he saw it, his expression softened slightly. As he began to eat, his movements familiar and routine, I suddenly spoke. “Arthur, if you’ve had a change of heart, if you’re cheating on me, you can just tell me.” Arthur nearly choked. He wiped his mouth, his face flushing with irritation. “Chloe is just an intern. She’s young and a bit playful. Why are you making a big deal out of it?” “Besides,” he added, “she went to our university. She’s an underclassman. It’s only natural I’d look out for her a bit more.” Tears suddenly streamed down my face, a profound sadness washing over me. “I didn’t even say her name, and you’re already jumping to her defense.” And he had the audacity to claim there was nothing between them? Arthur was speechless. I pulled up the Comic-Con video, still trending, and showed it to him. Then I showed him Chloe’s social media posts. As he looked at the evidence, his expression slowly hardened, a cool disappointment filling his eyes. “Sarah, when did you become so… common?” “Snooping on people’s social media, showing up at my office to check on me… You had a comfortable life as Mrs. Hayes. Was that not enough? Did you have to stir up all this drama?” He slammed his bowl down on the table with a loud crack. A chip flew off the rim. I was so stunned I forgot to cry. “It’s just a young girl’s fantasies posted online. Am I supposed to police what my employees post on their personal accounts?” He insisted that nothing had crossed the line between him and Chloe. The only reason he was looking out for her, he claimed, was to maintain a good boss-employee relationship and retain a promising new hire. “If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing more I can say.” “Sarah, I expected you to mature with me, to grow. Not to regress into this foolish, paranoid woman. You’re disappointing me.” After that night, Arthur started staying at the office, using the excuse of being busy. Until our sixth wedding anniversary arrived. The doorbell rang. It was a delivery guy. “Mrs. Hayes, a cake from your husband.” A flicker of hope ignited within me. This was the first time Arthur had ever proactively arranged for an anniversary cake. Had he really matured? Had he learned how to show affection? I opened the box and froze. A large, mocking number “4” was formed by the candles. It pierced my heart. Arthur, the man who’d aced his college entrance exams, who could recall hundreds of data sets with perfect accuracy, couldn’t even remember how many years we’d been married. A strangled laugh escaped me, tears rolling down my cheeks as I did. My phone rang. It was Arthur, his voice as flat and robotic as ever. “Did you get the cake? Are you still upset?” I quietly wiped my tears away. “Will you see a movie with me tonight?” Animal Romance 2 was out. The first one had been released right after we got married. I had begged and pleaded for him to go with me. He had paused his typing, tapping his watch. “Do you have any idea how many lines of code I could write in the 120 minutes we’d waste at a movie theater?” “Sarah, time is valuable. I need your support.” I took a deep breath, pushing away the unpleasant memory. “Arthur, please. It’s my only request for our anniversary.” 4 His tone hardened with impatience. “How old are you? You still want me to watch that childish nonsense?” “I have a work dinner tonight. I won’t be home. Just eat the cake and go to bed early.” He hung up before I could say another word. I threw the cake in the trash and bought a single movie ticket. But at the theater, I saw two familiar figures. Chloe was clinging to Arthur’s arm, happily bouncing in line to collect the movie’s limited-edition couple’s merchandise. She playfully snapped a fox-ear headband onto Arthur’s head and put on a pair of bunny ears herself. They pressed their cheeks together for a selfie. I opened my phone. A new post had just appeared on my feed. “Yay! At Animal Romance with my grumpy boss! This is my reward for being such a hardworking little intern and helping him with his overtime! ;)” In that moment, all the patience and restraint I had mustered shattered. I stormed over and slammed the bucket of popcorn and the large soda down on both of their heads. Chloe let out a piercing scream. Arthur instinctively pulled her into his arms, shielding her. When he saw my face, his eyes blazed with anger. “Sarah, are you following me? When is this going to end?!” I slapped him hard across the face, my voice breaking as I screamed, “Being with me was a waste of your precious time, wasn’t it? You were never willing to compromise or change for me! But you can waste day after day with Chloe, going to conventions, wearing cheap matching bracelets?” “Arthur, do you even have a heart? Why are you being so cruel to me?!” A crowd gathered around us, phones out, recording everything. Chloe buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Realizing the situation was escalating, Arthur shoved me aside, threw his coat over Chloe, and rushed her out of the theater. But it was too late. The video went viral. “Isn’t that the ‘cutest couple’ from Comic-Con? Turns out the guy is married! Gross.” “An intern seducing her boss and then flaunting it online? The nerve of these young homewreckers.” “And he did it on his SIXTH wedding anniversary with his wife. I’m disgusted. I hope the cheater and the mistress both get what they deserve.” A few days later, Arthur, who hadn’t been home, video-called me, his face a mask of fury. “Chloe is being destroyed online. She’s too scared to even leave her apartment. The cyberbullying got so bad she tried to kill herself with sleeping pills!” “Are you happy now? You got what you wanted with your cheap, underhanded tricks, didn’t you?” Through the screen, the man I had loved for a decade looked terrifyingly alien. “I’m warning you, Sarah. You will record a video apologizing to Chloe. You will admit you were wrong and clarify that she is innocent in all of this!” I bit my lip, refusing. Arthur’s expression turned to ice. “Either you apologize, or we get a divorce. You have two choices.” There was a knock on the door. Just as he’d planned, a lawyer was there with divorce papers, already signed by Arthur. “I’m not forcing you, Sarah. You brought this on yourself. You dug your own grave.” His tone was calm, confident. He was handling this like a business negotiation, certain I would choose the first option. He gave me an ultimatum. A video of my apology had to be online before Chloe woke up. “Otherwise, wife or not, I will handle this professionally.” “You can expect a lawsuit from the company’s legal department.” With that final threat, he ended the call. The screen went dark, reflecting my determined face. An hour later, the lawyer’s phone rang right on schedule. “Well? Has she recorded the apology video?” “Mr. Hayes… Mrs. Hayes has signed the divorce papers.”

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An urgent page from the ER ripped through my evening. When I arrived at the hospital, I found my wife, Serena, who’d been away on a business trip for days, clinging to her ex-boyfriend, whispering to him. They were both covered in blood. Next to them was a mangled baby stroller. The moment she saw me, Serena rushed over. “Miles, you have to save the boy. He’s all Leo has left. If anything happens to him, I don’t think Leo will survive.” Her words caught in her throat, her eyes red-rimmed. The raw pain in her gaze was a knife in my gut. Leo dropped to his knees in front of me. “Please, I’m begging you. I know you’re the top pediatric surgeon here. You’re the only one who can save him.” I changed into my scrubs and walked into the operating room without a word. The child was critical, a victim of a severe car crash, and needed an immediate transfusion. “Get Type A from the blood bank, now!” the head nurse yelled. Serena shot up. “I’m Type A. I can donate.” But Leo cut her off instantly. “No, you can’t. You… have you forgotten? You’re his mother. Direct relatives can’t donate blood to each other!” … The air in the room turned to ice. Head Nurse Debbie, a long-time friend, shot me a worried glance. The entire hospital knew how hard Serena and I had fought to have a child. After terminating three pregnancies early in our marriage due to work pressure, she’d been unable to conceive. We’d tried everything—from Eastern medicine to Western specialists, even folk remedies. Just last week, we’d had a successful embryo transfer via IVF. I’d poured every ounce of my time and energy into caring for her, for our future child. And now… Leo, Serena’s ex, had a child that was hers. My breath caught in my mask. Through the glass, I saw Serena’s look of stunned surprise, followed by a flicker of guilt as she glanced at me. But that guilt was quickly replaced by a thrill of maternal joy. Her eyes were shining now, completely forgetting her role as my wife, forgetting everything Leo had ever put her through. All she could see was her child. I watched as my wife embraced another man, her head buried in the crook of his neck, murmuring words I couldn’t hear. “Dr. Carter? We’re running low on plasma. The boy’s vitals are dropping, his O2 sats are tanking…” “Dr. Carter?” My assistant’s voice snapped me back to reality. A junior nurse approached me, her eyes wide. “Doctor, your nose… it’s bleeding.” I looked down. The trickle had become a torrent, far worse than before. It was soaking the front of my scrubs, pooling in the clogs on my feet. I immediately requested my deputy chief to take over the surgery while I got myself checked out. As I was leaving the OR, Serena and Leo confronted me. “What the hell is this?” Leo snarled. “You’re just walking out in the middle of surgery?” “He was in a major accident! Who else in this hospital can handle this besides you? Are you doing this on purpose?” Serena’s voice was sharp, all trace of concern for me gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated fury. “Is it because he’s my child with Leo? Is that it? Are you trying to kill him out of spite?” I wanted to explain that the deputy chief was brilliant with trauma cases, that he had more than enough experience. That the boy was in good hands. But before I could speak, Leo’s hand cracked across my face. He’d swung with all his might. The impact sent me stumbling back, my hand slapping against the wall to keep my balance. “I didn’t…” Before I could finish, the OR doors swung open. “Family of the patient?” a nurse asked. “I am!” Serena and Leo yelled in unison. The nurse gave me an awkward glance before handing them a clipboard. “His condition is critical. This is a critical condition notice. We need you to sign.” “Critical? He was talking when we brought him in! He called me Dad! How can he be critical?” Leo demanded, his voice cracking. Serena, however, whipped her head around to face me. “You!” she shrieked. “This is your fault, isn’t it? You didn’t treat him properly on purpose!” Her fingers dug into my wrist like claws, ignoring the stares of everyone around us. All she cared about was her interrogation. I shook my head, trying to pull free. “Serena, my nose is bleeding heavily. I need to get to the ER. Let me go.” “Let me go!” At that, she seemed to snap. Like a woman possessed, her fist connected squarely with my nose. “Stop faking it! It’s just a nosebleed! Wipe it off! You just don’t want to save him! I know you’re doing this deliberately! I’ll file a formal complaint against you, I swear it!” Just then, Leo, who had been signing the forms, saw the grim prognosis and collapsed. Serena finally let go of me and rushed to his side, cradling his head, even performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. I looked down. My fresh clothes were already soaked with blood. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was a nurse rushing toward me, my name a frantic cry on her lips. I managed to mumble a few words about my condition before the world went dark. In the ER, the diagnosis was swift and terrifying. “Blunt force trauma to the head causing a cerebral hemorrhage, and a ruptured artery in the abdominal wall. This is critical. We need an emergency consult and to get him into surgery, now.” “Where’s his wife?” the ER doc barked. “I need to inform her. With these symptoms, we have to suspect a critical issue with his clotting system.” “His wife…” The nurse trailed off, then went to find Serena. But Serena was entirely focused on Leo—buying him milkshakes and cake, holding him, cooing at him. When told of my life-threatening condition, she had only one response. “Same old tricks he pulled as a kid. You’d think he’d grow out of it.” Her words stunned the staff into silence. A junior nurse tried to explain the severity of the situation, but Serena waved her away. “I’m a little busy right now. My son is in surgery, fighting for his life. I don’t have time for his drama. Besides, he’s in a hospital, isn’t he? It’s not like you’re going to let him die.” She said it with such chilling self-assurance. “But we need a family member present!” Serena actually laughed. “I know how hospitals work. If it were truly life-or-death, you’d operate without consent. The fact that you need me here means it’s not that serious.” No matter what anyone said, she refused to leave Leo’s side. Meanwhile, my condition was so critical that specialists were being called in from across the city. Several of my old mentors from my residency program, men Serena knew well, were rushed in by ambulance to perform a joint surgery. When she saw them arrive, she flew into a rage. She grabbed one of them by the arm. “Why does he get a team of specialists for a damn nosebleed, while my son is dying in the OR with a critical notice? Tell me! You’re not going in there! You’re staying here to consult on my son!” Leo, now conscious, joined her, physically blocking my mentors, scratching their arms as they tried to get past. Serena pulled out her phone. “Leo, let them go. I’ll call the board and report this hospital for malpractice. Miles Carter has no right to be a doctor. After this call, let’s see how many of them still have a job.” One of my mentors was aghast. “Isn’t that his wife? Why is she with another man? Miles is in critical condition, and she doesn’t seem to care at all.” “Tell me about it,” another replied. “We were all in the same program. We wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t life-or-death. And now she’s threatening to report us.” As they spoke, waves of pain wracked my body. Cold sweat poured down my face. The anesthesiologist looked at me. “Dr. Carter, trust us.” “Okay,” I nodded. Just as the anesthesia began to take hold, I saw something I’d never seen before: the doors to the operating room were being forced open. Serena had somehow incited a mob of other patients’ families. “We’re reporting this hospital for abuse of power!” one of them shouted. “You give your own doctors preferential treatment while our loved ones suffer!” “That man’s son is still in surgery, and this doctor just walks out because of a nosebleed!” It took several nurses, orderlies, and security guards to drag them away. Serena’s voice was the last thing I heard before I went under. “Miles, look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t do this on purpose! We’re husband and wife! That boy is my son, which makes him yours, too! How could you do this? If he dies, I will never forgive you!” As her voice faded, a different kind of pain washed over me. All those years together, from when she was a nobody to the head of her new media department. All those years I’d worked to become a respected surgeon. Every anniversary, she would gaze at me with such apparent devotion, making a wish over a candle and promising to be with me forever. And I believed her. Every time. She played the part of a loving wife so perfectly—earnest, devoted, with a clumsy sincerity that seemed so genuine. But the moment I saw her looking at Leo, I understood. Some love isn’t in the actions; it’s in the uncontrollable beat of your heart when you see that one person. She had never, not once, looked at me that way. Her love for me was a performance, a grand, elaborate show. And when it came down to a choice between me and Leo, she would always choose him. The pain receded, replaced by the gentle voices of my mentors as I drifted back to consciousness. “You’re one lucky man, Miles. If we all hadn’t been here, I don’t know.” “Take it easy. Don’t even think about coming back to work for a long time.” I tried to nod, but they just waved and left. As they walked out, I saw them being escorted away by hospital administrators and… the police. Serena had made good on her threat. Using her network of news blogs, she launched a vicious smear campaign against me and my mentors. The main story focused on the image of my mentors being taken in for questioning right after saving my life. The internet exploded.

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On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Julian, told me his mother was sick and that we needed to go take care of her. I didn’t hesitate to get in his car. But on the highway, he took a call from his ex-girlfriend. His face was a mask of pain. “Claire’s not in a good place mentally. I have to go comfort her. You’ll have to get out here and go to my mom’s alone. It’ll be good practice for you to get used to the role.” Just like that, he dumped me on the side of the road. But I wasn’t angry. Not one bit. After all, if he was willing to abandon his own sick mother to console his ex-ex-girlfriend, what could I, his brand new ex-girlfriend, possibly have to say? 01. Julian was on the phone with Claire Ashton while driving me to see his mother. He was on his headset, so I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I could see the conflict on his face as he soothed her, occasionally glancing my way with a pained expression. Finally, he took a deep breath, his mind made up. “Don’t cry,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m on my way.” “It’s fine. She’ll understand.” He hung up and pulled over to the shoulder of the highway, turning to me with a soft voice. “Claire’s having a really hard time. I need to go be with her.” “Are you sure about this?” I asked, my voice flat. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “Claire just lost her mother and grandmother. Have some compassion.” “Are you absolutely certain you want to leave me here, right now?” I pressed. His impatience was now palpable. “Mina, be reasonable. Get out of the car.” I smiled. “Alright.” His brow relaxed. He shifted in his seat, as if about to offer some hollow comfort, but I was already out of the car. His hand, halfway extended, dropped back to his side. He sighed. “Look, just go on to Mom’s, will you? Try to make a good impression. It’s a good chance to finally get her to approve of you.” Then, he drove off. I called a rideshare and went straight back to Julian’s apartment to pack my things. I have my own small place and only stayed with him occasionally, so it didn’t take long. In the middle of moving, I got a call from the hospital. A nurse informed me that the prepaid funds on Mrs. Vance’s account had run out and that another payment was due. Martha Vance, Julian’s mother, was a frequent guest at the hospital. I’d covered a bill for her once as a favor, and somehow, it had become my responsibility ever since. Julian, obsessed with his image, would always pay me back, but not before rounding down the total and dragging his feet for weeks. I gave the nurse Julian’s number and made it clear that I was no longer affiliated with their family. They could chase him for the money. On second thought, I decided to do the responsible thing and call Julian to let him know. He didn’t pick up. After a few more tries, he blocked my number. Still determined to be responsible, I used a different number to text him about the hospital bill and to officially tell him we were done. Whatever happened after that was none of my business. 02. The next morning, I went to the office early to hand in my resignation to Julian. Years ago, he’d asked me to help him build his dream from the ground up. What he’d really wanted was an assistant with no official title or recognition, working for peanuts. “Everything I have is yours,” he’d said. “I’ll give you a generous allowance every month, so we don’t need to worry about things like shares or a fancy title. A smaller salary is better for you anyway, for tax purposes.” I was in love with him then, and I was willing to give up a promising career to join his startup, but his proposal set off alarm bells. “My salary is what I earn for my labor,” I had told him firmly. “Paying taxes is a civic duty. But I’m young and capable. What would I look like taking an ‘allowance’ from you?” “Besides,” I’d added, “without a proper title, I’ll have no authority. What kind of company has the boss’s personal assistant running around negotiating deals? How am I supposed to manage a team? You’re building a legitimate business, not some fly-by-night operation.” Julian had looked furious, but in the end, he’d given me a proper title and a fair salary. To his credit, he was talented. In a few years, the company had grown from a single office to occupying three floors of a skyscraper in the heart of the financial district. But none of that mattered to me anymore. After a breakup like this, staying at his company was out of the question. What I didn’t expect was to find Claire Ashton sitting in Julian’s office when I walked in. Before I could even register my surprise, he launched his attack. “What was wrong with you yesterday? Didn’t I tell you to go see my mother? Do you have any idea… Thank God I sent Sarah to check on her.” The office door was still open. Sarah, Julian’s actual assistant, happened to be walking by. She heard him, her face contorted in a pained grimace, and she quickly scurried away. Sarah was constantly being ordered to run Julian’s personal errands without overtime pay. It was only after my repeated insistence that he’d grudgingly given her a small raise. I closed the door. “I told you about the hospital bill,” I said with a dry laugh. “But you were too busy having a moment with Claire, so you blocked me.” Claire bristled. “I know it was wrong of me to bother Julian yesterday, Miss Reed, but nothing happened between us. You have no right to slander me like that.” Julian’s face darkened. “Mina, watch your mouth. I told you, I was just comforting her. Don’t be so dirty-minded.” “Comforting her all night and bringing her to the office today?” Julian was momentarily speechless. “Claire said she needed something to do, so I brought her in. Starting today, she’ll be taking your position. You can be her deputy.” I stared at him. “Excuse me?” “She needs the work experience,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “Don’t worry, your salary and benefits will remain the same. Only your title will change.” Claire put on a brave face. “I won’t be staying at Julian’s company for long, Miss Reed. You don’t have to worry.” I almost laughed. “And who’s going to do the actual work?” The responsibilities of Director and Deputy Director were worlds apart. Julian looked guilty. “Claire’s been living abroad. She’s not used to the corporate culture here. You’ll need to help her.” “Never mind,” Claire said, feigning nonchalance. “Perhaps I’m asking too much. I’ll figure something else out.” “Wait!” Julian grabbed her hand, then turned to me, his voice sharp. “Mina, be reasonable. I haven’t even gotten on your case about yesterday.” “Oh, cut the act, both of you,” I said with a thin smile. “I quit.” 03. News of my resignation spread through the company like wildfire. Members of my team flooded our group chat with messages of support, asking if I was taking them with me. I was surprised by how unpopular Julian was, though on reflection, it made perfect sense. In the early days, he’d been fine. But as the company grew, his respect for his employees dwindled. Benefits were constantly cut, and his primary method of compensation was empty promises. When I tried to reason with him, he’d get angry and lecture me about his version of “executive mindset.” I didn’t want to burn everything to the ground, and I planned on taking a break before looking for a new job, so I politely declined their offers. They were all top performers; they would have no trouble finding better positions elsewhere. A few days later, I received a call from a headhunter. The Winslow Corporation was offering me double my current salary, along with a host of other incredible benefits. They even said that if I could bring my team, the salary was negotiable. I hung up, completely bewildered. The Winslow Corporation was a titan of industry. Julian’s company, while successful, was a guppy next to their blue whale. Why on earth would they be headhunting me and my team? I suspected it was a scam, but the documents the headhunter sent over were legitimate. It was really them. I wracked my brain but couldn’t think of a single connection I had to the Winslows. Still, an opportunity like this was too good to pass up. I agreed to an interview. Just then, Julian summoned me to his office. I walked in to find him glowering. “What do you want?” “Why aren’t you cooperating with Claire?” “Cooperating with what? Making her coffee? Running photocopies? Is that my job now?” “She… she doesn’t know the ropes yet. You don’t have to have such a bad attitude. You could teach her.” “I’m already preparing the handover documents. I’ll get them to her as soon as possible. Until then, tell her to stay out of my way.” “Handover? What handover? You’ll be Director again as soon as she leaves.” “We broke up, Julian. It’s not appropriate for me to stay here.” “Broke up? I never agreed to that!” He shot to his feet, his face turning a dark shade of red. “Are you serious, Mina? You’re giving me a death sentence over one mistake?” “It wasn’t just one mistake. Have you forgotten what happened two years ago?” Two years ago, on the night we were supposed to celebrate our anniversary, Claire had called in a panic, claiming she had a fever. Julian had ignored my protests and rushed out to take her to the hospital. He didn’t come back for two days. When he finally did, he was full of apologies, saying he couldn’t bear the thought of her being sick and alone in the city, so far from her family. He swore to me it would never happen again. I still loved him then, so I forgave him. But I also told him there wouldn’t be a second time. Now, hearing me bring it up, Julian actually laughed. “Are you jealous? That was so long ago. Fine, I promise you. After I help her through this, I’ll cut off all contact. Just give me one more chance. Don’t they say everyone deserves a second chance?” I shook my head. “You should probably focus on getting her up to speed.” His expression hardened. “You’re really doing this?” “What did you expect?” I turned and walked out of his office. As the door clicked shut behind me, I heard the sound of something shattering against the wall. There was no “second chance” rule in my book. Forgiving him once had been a moment of love-induced madness I wouldn’t repeat. 04. I returned to my office to see Claire directing someone to move a cardboard box out of the room. The employee was moving at a glacial pace, and his face flooded with relief when he saw me. My stomach clenched. “In a hurry?” I asked, my voice tight. Claire crossed her arms. “Julian said I could have this office, so I had someone pack up your things.” I shot her a withering look. “You could have waited for me to get back. Were you raised to go through people’s belongings the second they turn their back?” I took the box from the employee. “You can go. I’ll handle it.” He practically fled. Walking back into my office, I immediately started rummaging through the box. Claire followed me in. “What are you doing?” “Making sure nothing’s missing or broken.” She scoffed. “You think I’d steal from you?” Just then, my fingers brushed against what I had been dreading I’d find at the bottom of the box. A fountain pen. The moment I saw it, the blood rushed to my head.

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I am the sole heir to one of the world’s most powerful conglomerates. My father’s influence is absolute, stretching from boardrooms to the darkest corners of the underworld. Yet, at my own engagement party, I watched my fiancée hand a “Voluntary Transfer of Bodily Ownership” contract to my sworn enemy, Marcus Thorne. “Adrian, don’t be angry.” Vivian Linwood held the contract up for me to see, her tone light and airy. “I love you, so I’ll save my precious first night for you.” “I will always be your wife, but I’m giving Marcus ownership of my body.” “What kind of joke is this?” My brow furrowed. I stepped forward to pull her back, but Marcus shoved me away. Vivian immediately stepped in front of him, her own brow furrowed in annoyance. “Adrian, don’t be so old-fashioned! My body is mine to give to whomever I please!” Then, right in front of me, she stood on her toes and kissed Marcus. In that instant, I became the biggest joke in high society. Before the media could ignite a firestorm, I calmly sent a single text message. 【The Linwood family’s gray-market enterprises no longer need our protection.】 1 Clutching the arm that ached from where Marcus had shoved me, I stared coldly at Vivian, who was now nestled in his embrace. 【Vivian, I gave you my love and my respect.】 【And you’re crawling on your belly to be his dog?】 Marcus’s fingers traced Vivian’s cheek with insolent slowness, his eyes locked on mine in a blatant challenge. A blush crept up Vivian’s neck, but she only spared me a fleeting, dismissive glance. 【Adrian, my body is not for my nominal fiancé to decide.】 Marcus spread his hands in a gesture of mock helplessness, a sneer playing on his lips. 【Well, Mr. Maxine, you heard the lady. She’s a willing participant.】 【The great Adrian Maxine can’t even hold onto his own woman? I guess that’s my gain.】 Watching them, a sharp pain twisted in my gut. My fingers tightened on the edge of that vile contract. 【Don’t forget, Vivian. Without me, your family would have been ruined long ago.】 But she was utterly unfazed. 【So?】 【Your grandfather promised that the Maxines would always take care of the Linwoods. Are you going to defy his wishes?】 She shot me a triumphant smirk, then snapped a photo of the contract and sent it to her friends’ group chat. 【With the right training, two husbands isn’t a problem. See? My two men, coexisting peacefully.】 The chat exploded. 【Vivi is a master at training men! Even the heir to the mighty Maxine fortune is begging for her affection like a puppy.】 【You’re my hero, Vivi! Drop the masterclass, we all need to learn…】 The ballroom buzzed with whispers and stifled laughter. Eyes darted from Vivian to me, filled with a mixture of shock and pity. The mockery washed over me in waves. 【The Maxines have dominated this city for a century, an unshakable empire. And this spineless creature is their heir?】 【Looks like the Maxine dynasty won’t last much longer…】 【What do you fools know?!】 A low, disapproving voice cut through the chatter, laced with a deep, almost fearful respect. 【The Maxine enterprise is far more than what you see on the surface. Years ago, the old man Maxine snapped his fingers and brought the city’s most dangerous crime syndicate to its knees. The families caught in that crossfire are still crawling out of the gutter!】 【You’ve all lived in peace for too long. Do you really think the Maxines are a family we can afford to gossip about?!】 A rare, sudden silence fell over the crowd. The gazes that now fell upon me were tinged with a dawning, horrified understanding. But I paid them no mind. Just as Vivian, a smirk playing on her lips, tried to force the contract into my hand, the grand doors of the hall swung open. My best friend, just back from the Delta to attend my engagement, strode in. 【Well, this is new. People actually begging to be put on a leash these days?】 Cassia Vance walked towards us, and the air itself seemed to part for her. She gave Vivian a cursory, dismissive glance before turning to me, her eyes filled with disapproval. 【Adrian, this woman is not fit to marry into the Maxine family. I’d say that even if your grandfather were standing right here!】 Others might have heard that and thought it was just about our family’s immense wealth dwarfing the Linwoods’. But Cassia was the only one here who knew the truth of who I really was. I knew what she meant. The Maxines, the silent bankers of the world’s powers, needed a matriarch of substance and strength. 【Hah.】 Vivian laughed, crossing her arms. 【And what kind of woman am I? My grandfather was a hero who saved Mr. Maxine’s life! Who the hell are you to talk?】 Cassia ignored her, her voice cutting like glass. 【A hero? If it weren’t for Adrian, your family would have sold you off in a marriage alliance for a pittance years ago! You wouldn’t even be here yapping like a stray!】 Before Vivian could retort, Cassia rounded on Marcus. 【And you. A leech who built his career by having Vivian steal project data from Adrian. The two of you, playing at true love? It’s pathetic.】 Watching Vivian’s face twist in fury, I felt a flicker of a memory. The day she’d run to me, begging for protection from an arranged marriage. She had been like a cornered kitten then, all claws retracted, hiding in my arms and sobbing. The tear that had fallen on my neck, a silent vow that she would marry no one else, seemed to burn me still. 【Adrian, you’re the only one in the world who’s ever been good to me.】 【Let me be part of your family. I want to protect you, too…】 But now, for another man, she stood against me without a moment’s hesitation. Cassia saw the arrogant certainty in Vivian’s eyes and sneered. 【You really think Adrian can’t live without you? The second you lose the protection of the Maxine name, let’s see if your new ‘master’ still wants his little pet.】 Vivian couldn’t stand hearing a bad word about Marcus. She snatched a glass of water from a nearby table and threw it in my face. 【Adrian, you’re the one who keeps a good dog on a leash!】 she shrieked. 【Make this bitch apologize to Marcus right now, or I’m leaving with him today!】 I lowered my eyes, slowly wiping the water from my face. This was supposed to be our happiest day. Instead, the woman I cherished had willingly become another man’s property, making me the laughingstock of our entire social circle. A profound weariness washed over me. I didn’t even look at them. 【Cassia,】 I said quietly. 【Let’s go.】 Even with the Maxines moving quickly to suppress the news, someone was working against us in the shadows. The story spread through the city like a virus. What should have been a grand celebration ended in disaster. And right on cue, Vivian’s parents arrived at my door, bearing expensive gifts. 【Adrian, dear, Vivian is just young and foolish. Please, you have to understand. It was all that boy, Marcus, who led her astray!】 【That’s right! The engagement between our families can’t be broken over a childish tantrum!】 They took turns trying to soothe me, dismissing the whole affair as youthful indiscretion. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing out loud. The Maxines had kept a low profile for so long that these people actually thought they could be pushed around. 【Understand?】 I slapped a copy of the contract down on the table. A cold smile touched my lips but never reached my eyes. 【You want me to understand that she’s another man’s pet?】 【The Maxine family can’t afford to worship at the altar of the Linwoods. This engagement is over.】 Seeing my resolve, Vivian’s mother’s face changed instantly. She slammed her hand on the table. 【Adrian! Don’t you forget, my father took a bullet for your grandfather!】 【Without the Linwoods, there would be no Maxines! How dare you act so high and mighty with us?】 Her voice was shrill, all traces of her earlier warmth gone. I leaned back in my chair, elbow resting on the armrest, and a slow, chilling smile spread across my face as I looked at the two snarling figures before me. 【Yes. What a… tremendous debt we owe you.】 The next day, Vivian, breaking character, asked to meet. She said she wanted to explain. I waited on a street corner from high noon until the sun began to set. She finally arrived, arm in arm with Marcus. 【Oh, Adrian, you didn’t really wait for five hours, did you? I was just speaking casually. You always did hang on my every word.】 She stepped forward and took my wrist. 【I know you have feelings for me, and I have them for you. Why don’t you reconsider my suggestion from yesterday?】 Her eyes were smiling, but I didn’t miss the flash of mockery within them. Am I a dog to be discarded and whistled back at her whim? I forced a gentle smile. 【It’s not out of the question. Have Marcus get on his knees and apologize to me, and I’ll consider it.】 I raised an eyebrow at him. Vivian’s face scrunched up in protest, but before she could speak, Marcus just laughed and agreed. I was stunned by his easy compliance. Then, he pulled a small bell from his pocket and gave it a gentle shake. 【My little slave,】 he commanded, his voice ringing with authority. 【Kneel.】 My pupils contracted. The idea was absurd. Here, on a crowded street, who would submit to such a humiliation? Especially someone as proud as Vivian. But in the next instant, right there in front of the law firm, under the watchful eyes of dozens of strangers, Vivian knelt. She hugged Marcus’s leg, rubbing her cheek against his trousers like an obedient puppy seeking praise. A triumphant smirk spread across Marcus’s face. He rested a hand casually on her head. 【Is this apology to your satisfaction, Mr. Maxine?】 【If you’re not fully satisfied, I could even let you have her for a day or two. Let you have some fun.】 Vivian showed no sign of resistance to his utterly degrading words. Instead, she shot me an annoyed glare. 【Adrian, if you truly loved me, you would accept me as I am, not make things difficult. I love you, that’s why I’m saving my first night for you, but I have a contract with my master now…】 【Don’t make this hard for me.】 Her words hit me like a physical blow. In that moment, something inside me turned to ice. She was a stranger to me now. My fingers curled into a fist. I looked down at her, my eyes dark and heavy. 【Perhaps I’ve spoiled you so much, Vivian, that you’ve forgotten. I’m not just Adrian. I am the sole heir to the Maxine empire. It is not I who cannot live without you. It is your family, and it is you, who cannot live without me. Without me, you are nothing.】 【Listen to me. This engagement is over. And I am the one ending it.】 Her eyes widened in fury. She jumped to her feet and grabbed my arm, her expression vicious. 【You wouldn’t dare! Your grandfather would never allow it! The Maxines can’t be so ungrateful!】 【Ungrateful?】 A bitter, sarcastic smile twisted my lips. I threw her hand off me as if it were contaminated. 【Your grandfather saved my grandfather, Vivian. He didn’t sell the entire Maxine line into servitude to your family for generations to come. That debt has been repaid a hundred times over.】 【Oh, and you might want to watch the news tonight. My grandfather will be making a personal statement to clear up the ‘misunderstanding’ of our engagement.】 My voice was low, steady, and cold as ice. She paled, but then a sneer replaced the fear on her face. 【You’re joking. You’re just trying to make me angry, to make me come crawling back to you!】 【This little game of push-and-pull is so obvious. It’s pathetic.】 Her flushed face, her useless denials—they were nothing but a joke to me. 【Believe what you want.】 I tossed the annulment papers into her arms, turned, and walked away without looking back. The news of the broken engagement sent shockwaves through the city. The Linwood Corporation’s stock plummeted overnight. Vivian called me more than twenty times. I blocked every number. I never expected our next meeting to be at a press conference where she was accusing me of cruel and abusive treatment. The allegations included, but were not limited to, being “overly controlling,” “emotional abuse,” and “using money to interfere with her personal freedom,” all backed by conveniently distorted chat logs. Vivian stood on the stage, the hand holding the microphone trembling. 【His control was so suffocating he even tried to police my friendships!】 Sensing her distress, Marcus’s eyes reddened on cue. He looked directly into the cameras. 【All Vivian has ever wanted is freedom for her soul. Mr. Maxine, please, let her go.】 A wave of murmurs rippled through the reporters. 【I can’t believe the Maxine heir is some kind of psycho. The rich really are messed up.】 【That poor girl. She’s basically committing social suicide by exposing him. The Maxines will destroy her.】 The whispers grew louder. The room was in an uproar. Cassia and I watched from the back, exchanged a look, and let out a soft, humorless laugh. If they wanted a show, we’d give them a spectacle. Cassia strode forward, snatched a microphone from a reporter, and fired three questions at the stage. 【Freedom of the soul?】 【Vivian, that silk scarf around your neck. Why don’t you take it off and show everyone the collar marks your ‘master’ left you?】 【And Marcus. You convinced her to steal the core data for the Maxine ‘Stardust’ project. How do we settle that account?】 【You play the part of a willing slave for one man while clinging to the Maxine family’s fortune with the other. You really want to have your cake and eat it too, don’t you?】 The room erupted. The sound of camera shutters was like a machine gun. The flashing lights seemed to hurt Vivian’s eyes. She instinctively shielded Marcus. 【You can’t just come up here and make baseless accusations! You must be one of Adrian’s little mistresses, waiting for your turn to take my place!】 Then, her tone softened, turning to one of gentle warning. 【Adrian is not a good man. When he loved me, he gave me the world. When he stopped, he treated me like dirt, even attacking my family’s company.】 【Take it from someone who knows. My today will be your tomorrow. You should get out while you still can.】 It was a masterful performance. A few tears, a few soft words, and she had the room back on her side. But this was Cassia. The Iron Fist of the Delta. She wasn’t about to be taken down by a few crocodile tears. She mirrored Vivian, dabbing at her own eyes, her voice breaking with emotion. 【Oh, Vivian, you have it all wrong. Your family was never worthy of Adrian. It was you who pursued him, you who promised him a lifetime together. That fool defied his entire family for you, endured thirty-nine lashes of the family cane just to make you his wife.】 【He used his connections to build up your family, gave you a black card, gave you power. And you repaid him by signing a slave contract with another man at your engagement party.】 The tide turned again. The reporters were getting whiplash. Vivian shrieked that she was lying, but it was too late. Cassia had projected the photo of the contract onto the main screen behind the stage. No one believed her anymore. The crowd turned, calling her and Marcus shameless trash. Seeing the situation spiral out of control, Marcus cursed under his breath. He dropped the microphone, and a deafening screech of feedback filled the room. As everyone winced and covered their ears, the on-site security guards suddenly swarmed the stage and shoved Cassia, hard, into the crowd below! There was a sickening thud. She hadn’t had time to react. Her head hit the floor, and blood instantly matted her hair, covering her face in a horrifying crimson mask. Marcus, his back to the audience, shot me a vicious, triumphant smile. Look at her, his eyes seemed to say. So pathetic… Something inside me snapped. My vision went red. I vaulted onto the stage and, in front of every camera in the city, I broke Marcus Thorne’s nose with a single punch. 【You’re a dead man, Thorne!】 He crumpled to the floor, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Vivian screamed, scrambling to grab my arm. 【Adrian! Stop! I was wrong, I was wrong! Please, let him go!】 The event manager finally reacted, rushing onto the stage and yelling for someone to call an ambulance. Seeing Cassia’s deathly pale face, a sliver of sanity returned to me. I gently lifted her unconscious body into my arms and headed for the door. Before I left, I delivered my final verdict. 【Vivian. Your family. Prepare for liquidation.】 Cassia’s surgery lasted eight agonizing hours. She was alive, but she was in the ICU. Once I knew she was out of immediate danger, the crushing anxiety that had gripped me for a day finally began to ease. I decided to go home and pack some things for her. I had just left the hospital when I was ambushed by a group of masked men and dragged to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Vivian emerged from the shadows, a knife in her hand. Marcus, his leg in a cast, limped behind her, his face a mask of venomous hatred. She was like a madwoman, screaming at me, pressing the cold blade of the knife to my neck, drawing a thin line of blood. 【You’re insane, Adrian! You sent someone to run Marcus down just to keep me by your side! He’s crippled for life now! Are you happy?!】 A car crash? Confusion flickered in my eyes. 【What are you talking about? If I wanted Marcus dead, he wouldn’t be breathing right now.】 【Shut up!】 She slapped me, the sting sharp and hot against my cheek. 【Who else would use such a despicable tactic! Calling the police is too good for you! I want you on your knees, begging for Marcus’s forgiveness!】 【Or do you think those guards you left at the hospital can protect Cassia?】 Her face was a twisted mask of fury as she held up her phone, showing me a video of someone pulling the oxygen tube from Cassia’s nose. Cassia… still lying in the ICU, for me… I couldn’t let anything else happen to her. 【Vivian! If a single hair on her head is harmed, I will make you and Marcus pay with your lives!】 She kicked me hard in the stomach. 【A prisoner dares to make demands? For every second you delay, I’ll have one of that little bitch’s fingers cut off!】 I gritted my teeth, the veins on my forehead bulging. My knees hit the concrete floor as I bowed my head to the smirking, triumphant Marcus. 【I was wrong. Please… forgive me.】 Marcus limped towards me, dragging a steel pipe. He swung it without a word, a brutal, crushing blow against my back. 【The great Maxine heir? Nothing but a dog at my feet!】 【Yes! Just like that! Harder!】 Vivian filmed the whole thing, her eyes gleaming with excitement. 【Adrian, say ‘I’m worthless trash, I deserve this,’ and I’ll make them stop.】 I turned my head and spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor, silent. My eyes, shot through with red, must have looked like something that had crawled out of hell. I just stared at them. 【Oh, a tough one, are we? Let’s see what’s tougher, your bones or this pipe!】 Blow after blow rained down on me, targeting my most vulnerable spots. I heard the crack of bone more than once, the pain so intense it made my scalp tingle. Then, a final, heavy blow to the back of my head. The world went black. Just before I lost consciousness, I heard Vivian’s panicked voice. 【…I think he stopped breathing. What do we do?】 【So he’s dead. Who cares?】 Marcus said, his voice casual. 【He’s just some rich businessman, not a crime lord who controls the city. Nobody’s going to miss him…】 Their footsteps faded away. My vision flickered between black and white, my ears ringing, my head splitting apart. I fumbled for the watch on my wrist, trying to press the distress signal, but I had no strength left. As I felt my life slipping away from blood loss, the world exploded. Through a curtain of fire and smoke, I saw a man in a black suit, followed by teams of bodyguards, all armed with assault rifles, storming into the warehouse. The man in the lead gathered me into his arms, calling my name over and over. 【Adrian, don’t sleep! Dad is here! Dad was late!】

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I was bitten by a zombie. The zombie stared at the blue blood oozing from my wound, frozen. “What are you looking at? I’m one of you,” I said calmly, pushing him away. I ran my other hand over the wound, and the torn flesh healed instantly. The zombie was stunned. “Stop staring. Look at you, all skin and bones… legs barely working. Go find something to eat,” I said with concern, patting him on the shoulder before walking away… 1 My name is Hedy, and I’m a pureblood vampire. The city teeming with zombies? That’s my masterpiece. I had been sealed at the bottom of the ocean for centuries until a scientist and his crew fished me out. The crystal coffin opened. The first thing I saw was a man in a white coat, wearing black-rimmed glasses. He was kind of handsome. Instead of being afraid, he said something incredibly cheesy in a gentle voice— “Are you lonely?” I rolled my eyes. “Duh. Try living for a few thousand years and tell me if you’re lonely,” I retorted, lying back down. I warned him that if he didn’t return me to the spot where I was sleeping, I’d drain him dry. He wasn’t fazed. Instead, he walked up to the coffin, resting his long, pale fingers on the edge, and leaned in to look at me. His voice was soft and slow, echoing clearly in the spacious, quiet lab. “If I could turn you into a human and end this endless loneliness, would you be willing?” Would I? Of course not! Loneliness aside, being a regular human is nowhere near as cool as being a vampire. But I thought this guy was talking big. I didn’t believe he had the power to turn me into a human, so I sat back up. 2 The guy introduced himself as Dr. Chen, a scientist. But not just any scientist. He came from a long line of researchers dedicated to studying the “vampire virus.” Generations ago, his ancestors discovered that a small percentage of humans were born with antibodies to the vampire virus. But vampires had essentially gone extinct over three hundred years ago. Unwilling to let generations of research go to waste, these scientists spent over a century tracking me down. And finally, in Dr. Chen’s generation, they found me. “After centuries of change, the original group of humans with antibodies is gone. But their descendants must still be out there…” Dr. Chen pushed up his glasses, the lenses flashing coldly. “Step one is to find a human carrier.” I laughed. “You went through all this trouble to find me just so I could help you find someone? Sorry, not interested.” Dr. Chen walked to a console and pressed a button. A hidden door in the lab slid open. He walked into the shadows and wheeled out a woman tied to a wheelchair with thick ropes. She had delicate features and almond eyes that darted around in terror. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hair was matted with sweat. A large gag in her mouth prevented her from speaking; she could only whimper in pain. When she saw me step out of the crystal coffin, her eyes widened in horror. “A woman?” I looked from her back to Dr. Chen, confused. “Data suggests her blood has an 80% chance of carrying the antibodies,” Dr. Chen replied. “Oh?” I was suddenly interested. Barefoot, I walked around the wheelchair, inspecting her. She wore a sharp suit with a collared shirt underneath and pointed leather heels. Is this what humans wear nowadays? “You want me to bite her?” I asked. The woman in the chair stiffened. Dr. Chen nodded. “Then wash her first.” Dr. Chen: “?” “I have high standards for hygiene.” 3 As a vampire who’s lived for thousands of years, I’ve evolved beyond needing blood to survive. For my first meal after centuries of sleep, I didn’t want someone who smelled like sweat and fear. After Dr. Chen wheeled her away, I explored the lab. I didn’t recognize anything. Just glowing rectangular slabs and weirdly shaped machines. A desk was piled with papers. I flipped through them—research on vampires. The bottom images showed monstrous creatures with green faces and fangs. I laughed and put them down. Fake news. Such ugly, image-less monsters were an insult to the inherent elegance of vampires. After a while, Dr. Chen brought the woman back. She was now wearing a soft white robe, her hair tied up to reveal a clean, pale neck. She looked fresh and vulnerable. Her eyes were covered with a white bandage wrapped around her head. I liked this detail. Who wants their food staring at them while they eat? I paced toward her, sensing her trembling. Maybe because I’d waited so long, I was getting impatient. I placed my hand on her head, tilting it to expose more of her neck. I found a vein pulsing with fresh blood. I bared my fangs and bit down. The soft vein pierced instantly. Warm, sweet blood flowed into my mouth. Even though I didn’t need blood to live, the instinct was hard to suppress. I held her neck, drinking greedily. I only stopped when I felt her body temperature drop and she fainted. Reluctantly, I let go. Humans are so fragile. If I wasn’t careful, I’d drain her dry. Seeing I was done, Dr. Chen approached with bandages and medicine, but I stopped him. I glanced at him and smirked. “No need for that.” I ran my hand over her neck. Where my fingers passed, the two puncture wounds vanished as if they never existed. Dr. Chen paused, clearly surprised by my ability. He pushed up his glasses and muttered, “Seeing is believing.” I took the clean towel he offered and wiped the blood from my lips, staring at the unconscious woman with mixed feelings. As a vampire, I had principles. I could accept humans as food, but I couldn’t tolerate them becoming monsters because of me. This was the first time I hadn’t drained a human dry. Although I could predict what she would become, a part of me hoped for a miracle. Through her blood, I gained her memories—her logic, her way of speaking, everything about being a modern human. This was another ability I had evolved. Her name was Sarah, a corporate executive. She was kidnapped by Dr. Chen on her way home from work. About ten minutes passed. She wasn’t fully awake, but her body started twitching. Dr. Chen looked excited, putting on thermal glasses to monitor her changes. I sat on the desk, waiting calmly. Something was wrong. The smell. The fresh, clean scent was rapidly turning into the stench of rotting flesh. Humans couldn’t smell it yet, but it was oozing from her blood through her skin. Dr. Chen moved closer with a notepad, recording her transformation. Her breathing grew heavy and rapid. Suddenly, she woke up with a guttural, beast-like roar. Her eyes turned a milky gray. Her skin became ashen and dry, thin as paper, revealing black veins underneath. She wasn’t Sarah anymore. She was a zombie created by me. And she had a craving for blood even stronger and wilder than mine. The moment those dead eyes saw us, she struggled violently. If the ropes weren’t thick enough, she would have broken free. Watching this, I glanced sideways at Dr. Chen. “Where did you get that 80% figure?” He ignored my sarcasm. His gaze on Sarah was filled with excitement and greed. For a scientist studying vampires, witnessing a human turn into a zombie was a massive breakthrough. He didn’t have time for my snark. “Experiment failed,” Dr. Chen said, finishing his notes. He looked at me. “But now we have a zombie virus carrier. We won’t need to trouble you for future experiments, Miss Hedy.” I looked at Sarah. Ten minutes ago, she was a normal human. Now she was a hideous monster. I felt a twinge of guilt. But I quickly squashed it. I had slept too long. I forgot how many lives had ended in my jaws. “Good luck to you,” I said, picking up a phone from the desk. Sarah’s memories told me it was hers. I waved the phone. “Call me if there’s progress.” 4 With Sarah’s memories, I now thought like a modern independent woman. Her WeChat wallet had enough money for me to splurge for a while. I used the PIN from her memories to pay for a new outfit. “Thank you for your purchase. Here is your receipt.” The cashier smiled kindly, handing me a slip of paper. “Throw it away for me,” I said, twirling in front of the mirror. The black dress flared out. As I walked out of the store, a WeChat call came in. Caller ID: Jason. Sarah’s crush. To avoid trouble, I hung up. The status changed to “Typing…”, then a message popped up: “Are you okay?” I typed: “I’m OK.” Sent. No reply. I searched my memories for his face. Handsome, but distant. I checked his Moments. Blank. Black profile pic, black background. Low enthusiasm, no interaction. No wonder he was just a crush. I put the phone away and instinctively walked toward a coffee shop. It was Sarah’s habit. She liked to work in a specific cafe on lazy afternoons. Human food didn’t satisfy me, but I didn’t hate it. Since I was awake, I might as well see what the world had become. Passing a small convenience store, I saw no customers. The owner, a woman in her forties, was eating spicy strips and sunning herself by the door. I glanced at her spicy strips; she glanced at my all-black outfit. Neither of us noticed the breaking news on the TV inside— “Serious riots have broken out across the city. Large numbers of violent individuals are attacking civilians indiscriminately. Please exercise caution and ensure your safety…”

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I took my coworkers to a club to party, but when the bill came, I realized I was broke. Desperate, I walked up to the VIP booth and approached the most handsome guy there. “Hey, can you cover my tab? I’ll Venmo you later.” The man feigned indifference. “Miss, do we know each other?” I snatched the drink right out of his hand. “Nope. But ask your bodyguard how many times he’s called me for help.” “I’ve saved your ass plenty of times. Can’t you return the favor just once?” The man looked confused, but his bodyguard quickly covered his face with his hand, whispering: “Sir, it’s true. Whenever you get blackout drunk, you don’t let anyone near you. Except her.” “To get you home safely, I’ve had to call her for emergency backup several times.” 1 The man’s friends all perked up their ears, disbelief written on their faces. “Seriously? When Lucas gets drunk, he’s basically untouchable. How can anyone be an exception?” “I remember that one time Lucas got wasted. I tried to help him back to his room, and snap, he nearly broke my arm.” “Same here. They say drunk Lucas is like the Grim Reaper—anyone who gets close gets hurt. I was young and dumb and didn’t believe it, so I tried to get close to him when he was plastered. Result? Full body cast, two months in the hospital.” “Doctors say Lucas has an overly aggressive defense mechanism. When he’s drunk, he trusts no one, so he attacks instinctively. What’s so special about this girl that she’s the only one he trusts?” “I don’t believe it. Unless she proves it right now.” I raised an eyebrow, pulling out my phone to show my QR code. “Sure. Venmo me $500 first, and I’ll put on a show.” Someone actually transferred the money. Ding. Payment received. I pointed at the cashier. “I’m gonna go pay my bill first. Get him drunk, then come find me.” The whole booth started cheering and jeering. Only the man named Lucas Thorne narrowed his eyes, staring at me dangerously. I wasn’t scared. I’ve seen what he looks like drunk. I have photos of him hugging a toilet bowl saved on my phone. Heh. Don’t let his current regal, elegant, gentlemanly appearance fool you. In front of me, his image was long gone. After settling the bill at the front desk, my coworkers and I parted ways. They went home, and I turned back to the VIP booth. Since I took the $500, I had to deliver the performance. Sure enough, Lucas’s friends were racking their brains trying to get him drunk. But Lucas wouldn’t drink. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me straight out of the club. He stuffed me into his luxury Maybach. Slam. He shut the door hard. Like a shaken soda bottle finally popping its cap. I rubbed my nose. “It’s not like I asked you to only trust me when you’re drunk. It’s a hassle for me too, you know?” 2 This whole thing started six months ago. I was working late one night when I saw a man sprawled out in the middle of the road, using a rental bike as a blanket. It was hilarious. As a chronically online girlie, I had to film it. But when I got closer… damn, what a handsome face! Except he was wasted, reeking of alcohol. He was mumbling about being thirsty. I took out my water bottle and poured him a cup. He was surprisingly obedient, gulping down three big mouthfuls. I tried to wake him up. “Hey, don’t sleep on the street.” “Where’s your phone? I’ll call your friends to pick you up.” He ignored me, sleeping soundly on the asphalt. Helpless, I patted down his pockets. Found out his legs were insanely long and straight. He could be a model. I found his phone, unlocked it with Face ID, and video called the first contact on his WeChat. I pointed the camera at the man’s face so the other person could see clearly. “Hello, the owner of this phone is sleeping on the street. If you’re his friend, come get him.” Before the person could ask for a location, they screamed in panic: “Get five meters away from the Young Master! Immediately!” I thought he was worried I’d assault the handsome guy, so I sneered: “Relax, I’m not interested in drunks.” “I’m sending you the location. Hurry up.” The person warned me again, even more intensely: “Do not ignore my warning unless you want to die!” Psycho. I hung up. Then I sat next to the man to guard him. He was actually using my thigh as a pillow, sleeping soundly under the moonlight. Ten minutes later, the friend arrived. Seeing the scene, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. I raised my hands. “See for yourself. I absolutely did not touch your friend inappropriately.” As soon as I finished speaking, the man shifted. Not only did he rest his head on my thigh, but he wrapped his arms around my waist, using me as a body pillow. I couldn’t pry him off. I pulled his ear. “Hey, wake up! Your friend is here. Let go and go home!” He didn’t hear a thing. slept like a log. I looked at the friend for help. “Come help me! I can’t move his arms.” But the friend stood five meters away and refused to come closer. I was furious. “Why are you just standing there?” He said, “I don’t want to die.” Me: “…” What does that mean? 3 The guy explained he wasn’t a friend, but a bodyguard. Later, the bodyguard pulled the car around, parked five meters away, and told me: “You figure out how to get the Young Master into the car.” “Are you sick? He’s your boss, not mine. I was nice enough to call you, and now you’re pushing your luck?” But the bodyguard refused to help, watching from a distance with arms crossed. I was livid. I started dragging the drunk guy like a dead pig, venting my anger. The bodyguard, probably afraid I’d bruise his boss, finally stepped forward to help. But the next second, the man who was sleeping like a log suddenly sprang up. With incredible speed, he pulled a Swiss Army knife from his waist. He shielded me behind him and slashed at the bodyguard. The movement, the speed, the ferocity. If the bodyguard hadn’t dodged fast, it would have been a murder scene. My eyes nearly popped out. My brain was full of question marks: “???” The bodyguard was back at the five-meter mark, smiling awkwardly at me. “Now you know why I didn’t help!” “When the Young Master is drunk, no one can get close to him. He’s extremely aggressive.” I instinctively touched my neck. I should run too. But the drunk man sheathed the knife, rested his big head on my shoulder, and went back to sleep. I was speechless. “…” The bodyguard was baffled too. “You are the only person I’ve ever seen who can get close to the Young Master when he’s drunk.” Are you blind? He’s leaning on me! I wanted to cry. “What do we do now?” The bodyguard said, “I have to trouble you to help get him into the car and drive him home. Can you drive?” “Okay-ish. So-so.” I was still skeptical. “Are you two pranking me? Why can only I get close to him? What about his parents?” “The Young Master’s parents passed away long ago. He only has a grandfather, but even he can’t approach him when he’s drunk.” This was truly bizarre. I had to use all my strength to get a 6’1″ man into the car and then drive him home. Later, the bodyguard added me on WeChat, saying he might need me again. “Get lost! Don’t even think about it!” The bodyguard transferred $500 to me. I immediately smiled. “No problem! Call anytime! Don’t be polite! But it’s this price every time.” 4 Half a month later, one night, the bodyguard suddenly transferred me $500. [Ms. Chen, emergency! Please come over. Location sent.] I followed the GPS to the most luxurious club in the city. Pushing open the VIP room door, I saw several big shots I’d only seen on TV lying unconscious on the floor. Later, ambulances came and took them all away. The only one left in the room was Lucas, holding his Swiss Army knife, leaning against the corner, drunk but alert to everything around him. Honestly, seeing his red eyes and murderous aura, I didn’t dare approach him either. My legs were shaking. I quickly refunded the money. “No way. I can’t do this.” The bodyguard immediately transferred $5,000. “Understood. Premium hazard pay, right?” “…” That’s not what I meant. But it was five thousand dollars! I’m just a lowly corporate slave. How could I resist the temptation of five grand? So, I walked right up to him. Carefully patted his shoulder. “Don’t kill me. Put the knife down.” I really didn’t expect him to be so obedient. He looked at me with hazy eyes for a while, then put the knife away. Then he swayed and collapsed into my arms. Holy crap! He was heavy. I lost my balance and fell with him. Luckily, before hitting the ground, he spun around and cushioned my fall. I landed heavily on top of him.

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I confessed to Julian seventeen times. Each time, he rejected me without hesitation. Just as I was about to give up, I accidentally stumbled into his room. The cold walls were plastered with my photos. On his bed lay a body pillow with my image. A whiteboard meticulously tracked my interactions and intimacy levels with every guy I knew. I froze on the spot. Seriously? After all this, he still has the nerve to say he doesn’t love me? So, I pretended not to know and sent him two messages. “Mr. Vance, I’ve thought it through. I won’t bother you anymore.” “By the way, I have a kissing scene tomorrow. Want to come give me some pointers?” 1 My dad sold me to Julian Vance. His company was on the verge of bankruptcy, and in desperation, he came up with the brilliant idea of selling his daughter. The Vance family is old money, famous in elite circles. Dad went straight to them. At first, he tried to sell me to the eldest son. The eldest son was already married, but my dad didn’t care. He said rich guys always have a wife at home and a side chick outside. So basically, he wanted me to be a mistress. I obviously refused, crying snot and tears at the Vance family gate. Maybe my crying face was too ugly, because the eldest son wasn’t interested. Instead, the reclusive second son, Julian, looked down at me. His face was cold, features sharp, eyes dark and distant. I had heard rumors about him. He was the black sheep of the family. Antisocial, weird, always alone. Even his father disliked him. My dad had no hope with him and was dragging me away, but Julian stopped us. He leaned down slightly and asked eighteen-year-old me: “Do you want to come with me?” I don’t know what I was thinking at the time. Maybe I was just tired of being pawned off by my dad. Or maybe Julian was just really, really good-looking. So, I nodded and asked: “Can I?” 2 Julian gave my dad a huge sum of money and took me back to his villa. I assumed I was his trophy bird in a gilded cage, but something was off about him. He spent a fortune to keep me, fed me well, treated me well, but never touched me. Our rooms weren’t even on the same floor. I lived in the sunny master bedroom on the second floor. He lived in the dark, damp basement. At first, I thought he was waiting for me to get older. But after two years, when I turned twenty, he still showed no interest. I figured maybe he was shy, so I decided to take the initiative. I put on a white dress, channeling that innocent “first love” vibe, showing off my collarbone and arms, and greeted him at the door. Julian just frowned, took off his suit jacket, and wrapped me up like a burrito. “You’ll catch a cold wearing so little.” Then he walked straight to the basement without looking back. I didn’t give up. The next day, I posed seductively on the sofa, giving him “come hither” eyes while slowly lifting my shirt to show off my abs. Julian pursed his lips and asked, confused, “Why isn’t the AC on if it’s so hot?” The third time, I put on perfume and threw myself into his arms. He leaned down, his breath tickling my ear. Just as the mood was getting steamy, he asked: “Did you not shower? You smell weird.” … It was like winking at a blind man. So, I decided to be direct. 3 The day I confessed to Julian was a normal weekend. During dinner, I told him I liked him. I thought he’d say yes. After all, he was so good to me. He never hesitated to give me money. When I said I wanted to be an actress, he set me up with an agency and resources immediately. But just as I was feeling confident, Julian’s spoon paused. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Don’t let it happen again.” I thought he was just being dense, but he really rejected me. I cried under my blanket that day, heart-wrenching sobs until the sun went down. I didn’t understand. If he didn’t like me, why keep me? Why be so good to me? It’s easy for a naive girl to fall for that, okay? But I am persistent. After crying, I confessed seventeen more times. Each time with a different speech, full of deep emotion. I refused to believe he wouldn’t be moved. But he really wasn’t. He rejected me ruthlessly every time, saying there was no possibility between us. Even though I liked him, after being rejected seventeen times, I lost hope. I realized he was a stone that couldn’t be warmed. That night, Julian went on a business trip. I was sitting on the stairs, hugging my knees and crying, when a snake suddenly slithered past me. I jumped. I remembered seeing a small snake when I first moved in. I was terrified, and Julian had the whole villa fumigated. I hadn’t seen a snake in years. Where did this one come from? Cold sweat dripped down my back as I watched it. It went downstairs to the basement, straight to a door, and slipped through the crack. That was Julian’s bedroom. If a snake got into his bed… Just thinking about it gave me goosebumps. I wanted to go in, but I remembered Julian’s rule. He never let anyone into his room, not even the housekeeper. He always locked it when he left. Maybe he was in a rush today and forgot. Hesitating, I grabbed a stick and pushed the door open, thinking of the snake. But what I saw froze me in place. 4 Julian’s room was minimalist gray. But the wall facing me was covered in photos. Photos of me. From when I was eighteen entering the house until now. Different times, places, expressions. Some were from my Instagram, some were selfies I sent to tease him, and some were candid shots I didn’t even know he took. My eyes widened in shock. Then I looked at the whiteboard next to the wall. It was filled with Julian’s bold handwriting. “Greg, college classmate. Chats with Ranran every few days. Average looks, no threat.” “Zhou, record label owner. Frequent ‘accidental’ meetings. Ulterior motives. Handled. No threat.” “Xie, obsessive fan. Stalked Ranran. Reported to police. In jail. No threat.” … It detailed every interaction I had with the opposite sex. Every name had an X next to it, except the last line. “Perry, male lead in Ranran’s new drama. Rising star, clean record, good looking, popular with women. High threat.” Note: “Likes to message Ranran. Minimize contact outside of filming.” I stared at the board dumbfounded. He was… investigating me? If he didn’t like me, why do this? Why block me from other guys? I suddenly remembered college. Guys chased me, but after Julian visited, they’d all distance themselves. Could Julian actually like me? My heart pounded. I scanned the room and my eyes landed on his bed. It was neat, but the pillow was out of place. It was a body pillow. With a life-sized print of me on it. My face burned instantly. I imagined him sleeping with that pillow every night. I thought he was a gentleman. Turns out he’s a pervert. But if he likes me this much, why reject me? I couldn’t figure it out. The snake slithered out the window while I was staring. I looked at the wall of photos and remembered his rejection today. “Ranran, I’m not interested in you. I just see you as a sister. Stop thinking like that.” Who makes a body pillow of their sister? What a pretender. I pretended I saw nothing and quietly left his room. Looking at the sunny sky outside, I let out a long breath. Then I took out my phone and sent him two messages. [Mr. Vance, I’ve thought it through. I won’t bother you anymore.] [By the way, I have a kissing scene with Perry tomorrow. Want to come give me some pointers?]

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