I died. In my second year after death, I was reincarnated as an orange tabby cat. In my past life, I was an orphan. It was my cat mom who finally taught me what motherly love felt like. One day, she grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and carried me to a house. When the door opened, I saw a familiar layout… and a familiar set of eight-pack abs. Swallowing a mouthful of drool, I realized: this was my ex-boyfriend’s apartment. My ex skillfully opened a can of wet food and scratched my chin. “I really want to adopt it,” he murmured, “but she is afraid of cats.” It seemed he understood my cat mom’s intentions. But wait… did he move on that fast? I wanted to curse him out, but all that came out was a meow. “Babe, who’s at the door?” A male voice drifted from behind my ex. And it sounded… familiar. Wait a minute. Your current partner is… a guy? 1 I died and came back as a stray cat. I was the only kitten in the litter to survive. As soon as I could wobble around on four legs, my cat mom stared at me with her big, round eyes for a long time. Then she groomed me obsessively, meowing as she licked. I understood her. She was telling me to be clean so a kind human would adopt me and give me a good life. I asked her if she would come with me. She didn’t answer. She just grabbed my scruff and carried me out into the world. Even though I was getting used to walking like a cat, I was still terrified of heights. I had watched cat POV videos online before, but doing it in real life was dizzying. My mom expertly navigated the complex and dropped me in front of a specific door. My head was spinning. I stumbled around in a circle and flopped over. Mom scratched at the door until it opened. I looked up. I saw the apartment layout I knew by heart. And my ex-boyfriend, Liam, with his eight-pack abs. “???” I exploded into a fuzzball on the spot. Liam must have just stepped out of the shower. He was wearing a towel, water droplets racing down his abs. He crouched down, petting my mom with one hand and opening a can of food with the other. “Sorry, I got caught up with something today and forgot to leave food out. Starving, huh?” The towel gaped a little as he squatted. Cover your shame, man! I tried to yell, but it came out as a soft, sticky “Meow.” That’s when Liam noticed me. “Is this your baby? It’s so cute. I think I still have some goat milk powder. I’ll go make some.” He went to the kitchen. I stood at the door, peering inside. The furniture, the placement of everything—it was exactly how I left it. I wondered how he was doing. Did he still… think of me? While I was lost in thought, Liam returned with a bowl of milk. His warm hand covered my head, rubbing gently. I purred instinctively. The last time we touched like this, I was in a hospital bed. Liam covered my eyes and whispered, “Don’t be scared. My Luna is the bravest girl.” Deep emotions surged from my subconscious. I let out a stifled meow, my eyes getting wet. I had planned to find him once I could walk properly, but I never expected my cat mom to bring me straight to him. To let him adopt me. Driven by that thought, I stumbled toward him. My cat mom nudged me from behind, encouraging me. Liam paused, seemingly understanding her intent. He scratched her chin and muttered, “I really want to adopt it, but she is afraid of cats.” I had just rubbed my face against his ankle. Never mind. Retract cat head immediately. 2 My cat mom didn’t know what Liam said, but she could read the room. She meowed anxiously, nudging me to rub against him again, trying to show off my clean fur. I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t. As far as I knew, no one in Liam’s circle was afraid of cats. I loved them. Back in the day, stray cats used to escort me home, and Liam would always smile and give them treats. So who was afraid of cats? His new partner, presumably. It had been a year. He had his own life. He had to start over. No one stays in the past forever. I looked up at him. He looked tanner than before, with dark circles under his eyes. Only those eyes were as bright as I remembered. It was a pity that the reflection in them wasn’t me anymore. I wanted to leave, but Mom wouldn’t let me. She grabbed me and dropped me at Liam’s feet again, standing guard outside. Liam sighed. While we were in this standoff, a familiar male voice came from behind him. “Babe, what’s wrong?” Wait. Why is it a guy? Then, my arch-nemesis Wes’s big, stupid face leaned into view. “You’re feeding strays? Remember, don’t bring them inside. They’re full of bacteria. Filthy.” Liam didn’t say anything, but his expression was resigned, like he was used to this. He might be used to it, but I wasn’t. I launched myself at Wes with a combo of fury swipes. Filthy?! Who are you calling filthy?! Wes, you piece of garbage! You fought me when I was alive, and now that I’m dead, you stole my boyfriend?! My paw pads smacked against him with a satisfying thud-thud. Afraid Wes would hurt me, Liam scooped me up. “The kitten knows you’re bad-mouthing it.” Damn straight. I started yelling at Liam in cat language too. If you found a nice girl, I’d accept it. But my nemesis? And a guy? Are you trying to kill me twice? I swung a paw at Liam, but my legs were too short. I missed. Liam laughed and poked my head. I hissed. Wes frowned, looking at the spot where I’d hit him, lost in thought. “If you touch the cat, wash your hands. Or don’t even think about getting in bed tonight.” Wes dropped that bombshell and went to the bathroom. Soon, I heard the shower running. “I know,” Liam replied, good-natured as always. Great. Just great. One year after my death, my boyfriend and my enemy are together. Judging by that tone, they’re sleeping together??? When did this start? After I died? Or were they colluding while I was still here? No matter what, I had to make Liam adopt me. I needed to see what the hell was going on. 3 That night, I patrolled my new territory. Wes, wearing rubber gloves, pointed a finger at me and yelled, “Liam! It’s me or the cat! One of us goes!” Hearing Liam’s footsteps, I immediately flopped over and let out a weak, pathetic meow. Liam panicked, scooped me up, and put me in the cat bed. “Keep your voice down. The kitten is new; it’ll get stressed.” “Then send it back! I’ll buy extra cat food for the strays tomorrow, okay?” Absolutely not. “Meow~” I shivered. I was weak. I was helpless. I wobbled to my feet and put my paws together in a begging motion. Liam immediately blocked me from Wes’s view. “Wes, calm down. We need to talk.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” Wes turned and slammed the door to the guest bedroom, locking it. I gritted my teeth. I hand-picked every piece of furniture in this apartment. How dare he slam my door? Liam looked upset. He turned to comfort me, then went to the guest room. He knocked and spoke quietly for a long time before Wes opened the door. They both went inside. I hesitated, then tiptoed to the door to eavesdrop. Thanks to my superior cat hearing, I caught bits and pieces. “…Are you crazy? That’s a cat!” “I know, but she might…” “You’re seriously sick. Send it away tomorrow!” “…” It was like they had a censor filter on. I couldn’t hear the keywords. I spun around anxiously, trying different poses to hear better. Suddenly, the door opened. I tumbled into the room, limbs splayed. “Meow?” Wes sneered down at me. “Look at that. Eavesdropping? I thought it was ‘stressed’?” “What does a kitten know?” Liam picked me up and carried me out. “It understood when I insulted it earlier, but now it knows nothing?” “Wes! Listen to yourself. It’s a cat! It’s not even a month old!” “You better hope it’s just a cat.” I didn’t understand what they were arguing about, but I knew Wes was up to no good. Liam carried me away, looking downcast. He was angry. I extended a paw toward Wes, who looked equally annoyed. I stretched my toes, retracted the others, and left one specific claw out. The middle one. Being flipped off by a kitten must be a first for him. But Wes didn’t get mad. He just stared at my claw, stunned. What’s his deal? Is he a masochist? When I’m cute, he hates me. When I abuse him, he shuts up. I was put back in the cat bed. Since I arrived at night, they didn’t have supplies. Liam rummaged around and finally pulled out a big red scarf to cover me. Hey! Liam! It took me half a month to knit that scarf! You’re giving it to a cat? Even though the cat is me, I still felt salty about it. “Have a good sleep. Goodnight.” Liam kissed my head, his tone sickeningly sweet. If I weren’t a cat right now, I’d think I’d traveled back to the old days. 4 My name is Luna (He Yueyue). I grew up in foster care. Wes was in the same group home, a year younger than me. We fought from day one. The worst time, I broke my arm, and he got his head split open. The director told us if we fought again, we’d be kicked out. So we dialed it back. After high school, I got into a university up North, a thousand miles away. Before I left, we fought again because Wes hid my suitcase. He blocked the door, glaring at me. “Luna! Didn’t you apply to schools in the South?” “Yeah, but my grades slipped, so I got into the Northern one. Are you sick? Give me my suitcase or I’ll pound you!” He didn’t speak. He just stared at me. So I punched him. I grabbed my suitcase and left, nursing a sore hand. Later, I found out Wes got accepted to a school in the South, a thousand miles away from the home. Whatever. It had nothing to do with me. Further the better. Looking at him made me angry. I never went back to the group home. I worked part-time through college to survive. After graduation, I worked days and hustled nights. Because I had to feed myself and my cat. I found the cat by the road, soaking wet like it had been fished out of a river. I wrapped it in my scarf. Just as I was about to leave, I heard splashing from the nearby pond. More cats? I rushed over. I saw a guy clinging to the bank, half his body still in the water, too exhausted to pull himself up. I put the cat on the grass and went to pull him out. He looked up. His dull eyes suddenly lit up when he saw me. “I’ve got you. Don’t let go.” He nodded and scrambled up. Luckily, I’m strong. I yanked him onto the grass in one go. He collapsed on the slope, gasping for air. “Do you need an ambulance?” “Is the cat okay?” We spoke at the same time, then smiled. “No, I just need to rest.” “Okay.” I picked the cat up and sat next to him to show him. The cat was shaking, but conscious, looking at us timidly. The guy drove us to the vet. Luckily, the cat was fine, just scared and had an ear infection. I happily shoved the medical report into his hand. “Good news! Father and son are safe!” He paused, then laughed. “Yeah. Father and son are safe.” My eyes lingered on the wet business card in his hand—”Ren Shuyu” (Liam).

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But at the very last minute, I discovered the truth: I was never the beloved daughter. I was a decoy, adopted solely to shield the real heiress from danger. This wedding? It’s just a stepping stone, a game designed to pave the way for her by trampling over me. In a moment of desperation, I texted the contact in my phone saved as “6’4, 22, Dead Broke”: “Coming to crash the wedding tomorrow?” He replied instantly: “I’m not that desperate.” My phone died right after, so I didn’t reply. The next morning, a video went viral online: a Shanghai billionaire, decked out in a groom’s tuxedo, sprinting down the highway in the dead of night with a look of pure fury on his face. 1 The night before the wedding, I realized the dress was wrong. Not only was the size off, but the style was completely different from the one I had chosen. I confronted the staff, but they insisted there was no mistake. They said Mr. Vance had personally given the instructions. Two dresses. One delivered to the penthouse on the 68th floor, one to the 67th. Since both brides had the last name “Ji,” they had double and triple-checked. There was no error. Ethan wasn’t answering his phone. I decided to go upstairs and ask him myself. But when I saw the scene inside the room, I froze. The wedding dress that was supposed to be mine was currently being worn by another woman. My mother was hugging her, cooing over her as she pouted playfully. My father and Ethan sat nearby, their eyes soft, practically dripping with affection. I stood in the doorway, stunned. I don’t know how long I stood there before Ethan’s phone rang. He picked it up, and the smile vanished from his face. He didn’t even have the patience to listen, cutting the caller off with a curt, “Ignore her.” When he hung up, my father asked, “Is Ji Shu causing trouble again?” Ethan nodded, annoyed. “Just the imposter. She actually thinks I’m going to marry her. So much drama.” The woman in the wedding dress started to ask a question, but they quickly made up an excuse to send her away. Watching her leave, the smile on my mother’s face disappeared, replaced by a chilling coldness. She shot Ethan a reassuring look. “Just bear with it a little longer. After tomorrow, the decoy won’t be of any use to us.” The “decoy” they were talking about was me. I gripped the doorframe, knuckles white. I was about to turn and leave when a soft voice called out to me. “Do you need something?” It was the woman. As soon as they saw me, the blood drained from my parents’ and fiancé’s faces. 2 Ethan dragged me back to my room. He towered over me, looking down with cold eyes. “I planned to tell you after the wedding, but since you couldn’t wait, you might as well know now.” Ethan pulled up a photo on his phone. An old family portrait. It showed my parents holding a baby. His gaze softened as he looked at the photo. “The Ji family business wasn’t always clean. They made enemies. Their only daughter was kidnapped constantly. One time, it almost cost her her life.” “So, they hid their real daughter in a different city and adopted another girl to raise as the ‘Ji Heiress’ in the public eye.” I wanted to laugh. But as soon as my lips twitched, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. No wonder. No wonder my childhood was filled with car accidents and kidnapping attempts. Every time I was in danger, Mom and Dad would show up with a gift, take one look at me, and then rush off to “another city for business.” No wonder they were always traveling. If I cried and begged to go with them, they would slap me across the face, call me selfish, and have the nanny lock me in a dark room to “reflect.” Ask once, get locked up once. No food, no water. If I cried too hard, the nanny would “discipline” me for them. When they returned from their “business trips” and heard I hadn’t reflected properly, I’d get beaten again. They said ungrateful children deserved it. They said they were running around the world to give me a luxurious life, yet I was rotten to the core. Traveling became my biggest trigger. I didn’t dare bring it up. Even that specific city became a nightmare for me. In high school, when a field trip was announced to that city, I had a panic attack on the spot. I curled up under my desk, hyperventilating, screaming that I wouldn’t go. Word got back to my parents. They sponsored the trip and forced the school to change the location. But the new location was terrible, and the trip wasn’t fun. My classmates started resenting me. They called me a princess, a psycho. Those labels stuck to me all through high school, suffocating me. Ethan continued, articulating every word. “From start to finish, the only person I ever intended to marry was Ya-Chun.” “Marrying you is just a PR move. We need a transition to let Ya-Chun integrate into this circle smoothly.” The real Ji daughter returns. Everyone will know I’m the fake. Many of our high school classmates are in this social circle. They’ll bring up the old “psycho” rumors. Compared to me, the beautiful, gentle, and cultured Ya-Chun will be instantly accepted. And I will carry the label forever. Seeing the blood drain from my face, Ethan softened his tone slightly. “As long as you cooperate, for the sake of our years together, I won’t treat you poorly.” Years together? What years? Wasn’t the affection, the family dinners—wasn’t it all just a performance for the kidnappers? I wiped my tears aggressively and forced a grin. “Sure. I’ll cooperate. I’ll tell everyone how you used a child as bait to protect Ya-Chun. How shameless you—” Before I could finish, Ethan grabbed me by the throat. Before he could speak, Ya-Chun rushed in from the hallway. “Ethan! Let her go!” she screamed. Ethan acted like he didn’t hear her. He shifted his grip to my jaw, forcing me to look at Ya-Chun. He smiled reassuringly at her, then looked back at me with dead eyes. “Look at yourself. In what world do you compare to Ya-Chun? In what world do you deserve to marry me?” “If it wasn’t to protect her, I wouldn’t have spent a single second with you.” Ya-Chun pried at his fingers, begging him to stop. Ethan shoved me away violently. He ordered the bodyguards to watch me, then grabbed Ya-Chun’s hand and dragged her out. Moments later, I heard a heated argument erupting in the hallway. 3 I curled up in the corner, running through every possible escape route in my head. Suddenly, the quiet click of the door lock echoed in the room. I walked over. It was my phone. There was a sticky note on the back, three words written in large, hurried letters: I AM SORRY. I glanced at it, too drained to care who sent it. I unlocked the phone and scrolled through my contacts until my finger hovered over: “6’4, 22, Dead Broke.” I bit my lip and hit dial. He picked up instantly. But there was silence on the other end. Just the faint sound of breathing. I steadied my voice. “Leo… can you come steal the bride tomorrow?” There was a loud crash on the other end, like something heavy falling. A long silence followed before Leo let out a cold laugh. “Ji Shu, I’m not that desperate.” I bit my lip so hard it tasted like iron. A sob escaped before I could stop it. Before he could speak again, I choked out, “Sorry to bother you,” and hung up. Less than a minute later, he called back. My vision was blurred with tears. My hand shook as I tried to accept the call. The second it connected, my battery hit 0%. The screen went black. 4 At 5:00 AM, the makeup team barged in. I was groggily pushed into the chair in front of the mirror. The assistant set up her tools and left her phone propped up on the counter. It was playing a video on loop. The makeup artist glanced at it and laughed. “Look at this. ‘Shanghai Billionaire in a Tux Sprinting Down the Highway at 2 AM.’ Rich people are so dramatic.” She shook her head. “Another ‘she runs, he chases’ soap opera.” The assistant giggled, grabbing the phone. “It’s like a Wattpad novel come to life.” She stared at the screen and sighed. “But imagine not wanting to marry Leo Kai. With a face like that? I don’t care if he’s a tycoon, I’d say yes.” Hearing the name, my brow twitched. “Who?” The assistant repeated it. “Leo Kai.” She had a heavy accent and a stuffy nose from a cold. The way she said it… it didn’t sound exactly like my Leo. I stared at the blurry back of the man in the video, lost in thought. Just a similar name. The Leo I knew couldn’t afford dinner, let alone a bespoke tuxedo. There was no way he was a billionaire. I let out a bitter laugh. If he really was that powerful, maybe he wouldn’t have suffered so much because of me.

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I have a chronic condition that requires daily injections. The medication is incredibly volatile and needs to be kept strictly between 36°F and 46°F. Because of this, my parents bought me a medical-grade mini-fridge for my dorm room. The moment the fridge arrived, my roommate, Sarah, threw a fit. “You bought something that sucks up so much power? Do you think we’re here to subsidize your lifestyle?” I explained that the fridge was energy-efficient, but just to keep the peace, I offered to pay half the dorm’s electric bill for the month. The other two roommates, Jessica and Mia, still grumbled. Since I was planning to move out the following month anyway, I promised to cover the entire electric bill for the month. That was a mistake. After that, they kept the AC blasted at 60°F, 24 hours a day. They forbid me from touching the thermostat. Finally, moving day arrived. I had my bags packed. But my roommates blocked the door, physically dragging my suitcase back. “You want to leave? Sure. Pay the electric bill for the next four years first.” “Last month was $60. A semester is roughly $250. For four years… let’s just round it up. You owe us $2,000. Pay up.” 1 I stared at Sarah, who was blocking the doorway, wondering if I was hallucinating. She had her arms crossed, chin tilted up like a rooster ready for a cockfight. “$2,000? Are you robbing me?” “How is it robbery, Lexi?” Jessica chimed in immediately, her voice shrill. “We calculated it. You’re so rich; don’t tell me you can’t afford a little pocket change?” Sarah wore a look of triumphant greed. “Last month, because of your stupid fridge, the bill was $60. Before you came, it was barely $10! That extra $50 is all on you.” “A semester is four months, so that’s $200. Plus damages for the emotional distress of you suddenly moving out… let’s call it $250 a semester. Fair, right?” “Four years of college…” She pretended to count on her fingers, then waved her hand impatiently. “Anyway, it’s $2,000! Not a penny less. If you don’t pay, you aren’t taking a single thing out of this room today!” I laughed out of sheer disbelief. The “power-sucking” fridge they hated was my lifeline. My medication costs a fortune and spoils if the temperature fluctuates even slightly. My parents bought a specialized medical fridge. It uses less energy than a desk lamp. I had shown them the manual. I had shown them the specs. I even agreed to pay the whole bill. But my compromise only fueled their greed. Ever since I agreed to pay the bill, the dorm had turned into an icebox. If I touched the thermostat, Sarah would leap from her bed, crank it back down to 60°F, and make passive-aggressive comments. “Ugh, it’s so hot. Some princesses don’t have sweat glands, but us mortals need to cool down.” Jessica would echo her: “Exactly. Just because you pay the bill doesn’t mean you own the room. We have the right to use the AC!” I watched them shivering in heavy hoodies, wrapped in blankets in the middle of September, just to spite me. It was absurd. I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted to leave. But now? I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and dialed the Hall Director. “This is extortion. I’m calling the RA and the Director.” Sarah moved fast. She snatched my phone and smashed it onto the tile floor. “Call someone? Let’s see who you call now!” The screen shattered into a spiderweb of glass. Rage exploded in my chest. I stepped forward to grab my phone, but Jessica shoved me hard from the side. I stumbled back, tripping over my suitcase and landing awkwardly on the floor. Sarah stood over me, sneering. “Trying to fight me? You’re too soft.” “Pay the money, or crawl back into your bed. You aren’t leaving.” They kicked my suitcase over. My belongings spilled out. Several bottles of expensive skincare my mom had bought me rolled across the floor. Sarah stomped on them. The glass crunched, and the expensive serum pooled on the dirty floor. “Oops. My foot slipped.” Her mouth said sorry, but her eyes were laughing. 2 “What is going on here?!” A sharp voice boomed from the doorway. Mrs. Higgins, the Hall Director, stood there scowling, a few curious students peeking from behind her. Sarah’s face transformed instantly. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Mrs. Higgins! Please help us!” She pointed a shaking finger at me. “Lexi is using her money to bully us! She brought in this huge industrial fridge that jacked our electric bill up to hundreds of dollars!” “We just asked her to split the cost, and she refused! She even tried to hit us! Boohoo…” Jessica immediately joined the performance, clutching her arm. “It’s true! Look at my arm, she shoved me! We just wanted her to pay her fair share, and she accused us of extortion!” Mrs. Higgins frowned, her gaze landing on me with undisguised annoyance. “Lexi! You again? I’ve heard rumors about you acting entitled because of your background. Now you’re getting violent?” She convicted me without asking a single question. “They just asked you to split the bill. Your family is well-off; why are you being so stingy? You have zero community spirit!” I stood up, dusting off my pants, and looked at them coldly. “I told them I’d pay the entire bill for this month. They are the ones who keep the AC at 60 degrees while wearing winter coats. They are wasting electricity on purpose.” “Now that I’m moving out, they are demanding I pay for the next four years of electricity. Two thousand dollars.” “Mrs. Higgins, does that sound reasonable to you?” Mrs. Higgins didn’t find it absurd. Instead, she turned on me. “Two thousand? You probably pushed them to the brink, and they’re just trying to teach you a lesson!” She scoffed. “Besides, if you hadn’t brought that appliance in, none of this would have happened. You need to reflect on your own actions!” She turned to Sarah and Jessica, her voice softening. “There, there, don’t cry. I know you girls have been wronged.” Seeing the Hall Director take her side, Sarah decided to go all in. She sat down on my suitcase. “I don’t care! If she doesn’t apologize and pay for our mental anguish, she isn’t leaving!” Mrs. Higgins crossed her arms and gave me an ultimatum. “Lexi, did you hear that? Apologize to your roommates and settle this. Do you really want me to write you up and put a mark on your permanent record?” She and Sarah were practically a team now. 3 I looked at Sarah sitting on my luggage, looking like she owned the world, and suddenly, I felt calm. You can’t reason with thugs. I smiled. “Okay. I’ll pay.” Sarah and Jessica’s eyes lit up. Even Mrs. Higgins looked surprised. I continued, “Two thousand, right? Fine.” “But I need you to write me a receipt. It needs to state clearly: ‘Received from Lexi: Pre-payment for four years of dormitory electricity, totaling $2,000.’” “Then, take that receipt to the University Bursar’s office and get it officially stamped. Or get it notarized.” “Once I see the official stamp, I’ll transfer the money immediately.” Sarah’s smile froze. “What… what do you mean? Why do we need a stamp?” “Of course I need it,” I said, deadpan. “It’s a large sum of money. I need a paper trail.” “What if the school accuses me of bribing students? An official stamp proves this is a legitimate university fee.” “I pay with peace of mind; you receive with peace of mind. Right?” “I…” Sarah stammered, looking at Jessica for help. Jessica had no idea what to do. “We… we aren’t the school! We can’t get a stamp!” “Then I can’t give you the money,” I shrugged. “What if you take the money and deny it later? Or ask for more next month? Who would I complain to?” Sarah’s face turned black. She shot up from the suitcase. “You’re playing me!” Before I could speak, she pivoted back to victim mode. “We don’t even want the money! We want an attitude check! Shouldn’t you compensate us for the stress? We can’t sleep, we can’t study because of you! Look how haggard I am!” She touched her face dramatically. I almost laughed. She slept until noon every day and ate more than anyone. Haggard? Please. I was done. I bent down, picked up my scattered clothes, and put them back in the suitcase. “Since I can’t leave today, forget it.” I stood the suitcase up and rolled it back to my bed. “I just cancelled the new lease. We’re still roommates, guys.” “Electricity bill? Old rules apply. I pay it all. Keep the AC as low as you want. Don’t hold back.” Now, it was their turn to be dumbfounded. They staged this whole scene because they knew I was desperate to leave. They wanted a quick payout. They didn’t expect me to stay. “You… didn’t you already rent a place?” Jessica asked, confused. “Cancelled it,” I lied smoothly. “It was $2,500 a month. Too expensive. The dorm is cheap, and I have you guys to keep me company.” I opened a bag of chips and offered one to Mia, the quiet roommate who hadn’t said a word. “Mia, chip? We’re going to be living together for a long time. Let’s get along.” Mia stared at me, terrified, and didn’t move. Sarah and Jessica looked like they had swallowed a fly. I sat in my chair, pulled out my backup phone, and started watching Netflix. Let’s see what you do now. 4 It was late. The AC hummed, pumping out freezing air. I was wrapped in a duvet, pretending to be asleep. Whispers came from the other side of the room. “Is she serious? She’s not moving?” Jessica sounded panicked. “She’s bluffing,” Sarah hissed. “Rich girls can’t handle discomfort. She’s just trying to wait us out.” “What if she doesn’t pay? We wasted all this time.” “Relax,” Sarah sneered. “Look at her, she’s already coughing. A few more days of freezing, and she’ll be begging us to take her money.” “But… what if she refuses?” “Then we ruin her,” Sarah said, her voice dripping with malice. “Tomorrow, I’ll post on the university forum. I’ll say she’s a rich bully abusing poor students. Let the whole school drag her.” “Will that work?” “Of course. Rich people care about their reputation. She can’t outlast us. When she pays the $2,000, I take 70%, you take 30%.” “What about Mia?” “Her? She’s a mute. Give her fifty bucks to shut up.” I lay in the dark, cold to the bone. So they had it all planned out. Even the split. The next morning, I “fell ill.” I coughed violently, gasping for air like I was dying. Sarah and Jessica exchanged gleeful looks before putting on their concerned masks. “Lexi, are you okay? Should you go to the hospital?” “Yeah, you look pale. Maybe you should move out…” I waved my hand weakly. “No… it’s an old condition. Just… hard to breathe.” Then, in front of them, I called my dad on speaker. “Dad… cough… I think… I’m sick. The dorm is too cold…” My dad’s voice was instantly panicked. “Lexi?! What’s wrong? I’m coming right now!” “No, Dad… doctor said not to catch a cold… cough…” “This is ridiculous! I’m sending Mr. Chen to get you immediately! We are not staying in that dorm!” I hung up and gave my roommates a weak, apologetic smile. “Sorry guys. My dad overreacts.” Less than an hour later, there was a knock at the door. A man in a sharp suit stood there, flanked by two burly movers. It was Mr. Chen, my dad’s executive assistant. “Miss Lexi, are you alright? The boss sent me.” He turned to Mrs. Higgins, who had followed him up, and handed her a document. Her face went white. Mr. Chen signaled the movers. “Pack Miss Lexi’s things. Be careful.” The movers worked fast. Sarah and Jessica realized their payday was leaving. They rushed forward to block the movers. “What are you doing?! You can’t just take her stuff! Stop!” Mr. Chen’s eyes went cold. “We are acting on Miss Lexi’s medical diagnosis and the legal notice our legal team just served to the university.” “Any attempt to obstruct us,” he paused, enunciating clearly, “will be treated as unlawful imprisonment and endangerment. We will pursue legal action.” Sarah and Jessica froze, terrified into silence. My things were packed. Two large boxes stood by the door. “Miss, we can go,” Mr. Chen said. “Leave the medication in the fridge for now. I have a refrigerated transport van arriving shortly to transfer it safely.” I nodded, grabbed my backpack, and didn’t even glance at my roommates. Just as I stepped one foot out of the door— Zzzzt. The lights flickered and died. The hum of the AC stopped. Total silence. Total darkness. “Power’s out! What happened?” someone screamed down the hall. “The breaker tripped!” My heart dropped into my stomach. I spun around, staring into the dark room at the mini-fridge. The little green power light was gone. Inside that fridge was a month’s supply of life-saving medication. Medication that cost nearly half a million dollars. If the temperature rose for more than ten minutes, it would all be useless. I couldn’t see Sarah’s face in the dark, but I heard her voice. It was dripping with venomous joy. “Oh no,” she drawled. “Why did the power go out all of a sudden? Lexi… what’s going to happen to your stuff in the fridge?”

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After my family went bankrupt, my mother, my younger sister, and I signed up for a survival challenge. The rules were simple: Each person starts with exactly $100. We had to survive for a month—eating, drinking, and existing—on just that bill. The winner would walk away with $100 million. Mom looked at my sister standing beside her, her smile dripping with indulgence. “Don’t you worry, sweetie. Your sister and I won’t spend a dime. You’ll have three hundred dollars all to yourself. If you’re thrifty, that should be plenty.” My sister hugged Mom’s arm, whining playfully. “Oh, Mommy, you’re the best! We’ll stick together and survive on the three hundred bucks!” I watched them, this portrait of deep maternal love, neither of them sparing a single thought for whether I lived or died. Silently, I tucked my hundred-dollar bill into my back pocket. 1 We were broke. Destitute. That’s when my sister, Chloe, found this “Budget Survival” competition. She claimed that if we could survive 30 days on a hundred bucks, the last one standing would win a fortune. She dragged Mom and me to the registration center without asking. Now, we were standing in a massive, sterile white arena along with ninety-seven other desperate souls, waiting for the clock to start. “Chloe, my precious girl, don’t worry,” Mom’s voice was soft enough to melt butter. She pinched Chloe’s cheek affectionately. “When we win first place, I’ll buy you that new Chanel set you wanted. And the Himalayan Birkin? It’s yours.” “Moooom,” Chloe drawled, leaning her head on Mom’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to suffer. We’ll work together. When we win, you manage all the money.” It was a touching scene. Heartwarming, really. If only I wasn’t the other daughter. Mom’s gaze finally shifted to me. The smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, hard indifference. “Harper, listen to me. You lived like a princess in our house for years, eating our food, wearing the clothes we bought. It’s time you paid us back. When the challenge starts, you know what to do.” I lowered my eyes, looking down at my washed-out, thrift-store t-shirt. Then I looked at Chloe. Even here, she was wearing a designer jacket worth five figures—something I wouldn’t dare touch with clean hands. A princess life? Did I ever have that? Suddenly, the massive screen in the center of the arena lit up. A screeching, high-pitched voice echoed through the hall. “Welcome, challengers, to Extreme Survival! I am your host, Goldie!” On the screen, a fat, golden piggy bank mascot danced around, its voice eerie enough to make my skin crawl. “The rules are simple! You each have $100 start-up capital. You must survive the next 30 days with this money!” “Every day at 5:00 AM and 5:00 PM, a pop-up supermarket will appear in the arena. It stocks everything you need, at real-world prices!” Goldie’s voice pitched up an octave, trembling with manic excitement. “One month later, among the survivors, the one with the highest remaining balance will be the sole winner of the $100 million grand prize! The remaining survivors will split a consolation pot of $100,000!” “Good luck!” As the voice faded, one hundred red envelopes rained down from the ceiling, landing precisely in front of each person. I picked mine up. Inside was a crisp, single $100 bill. Before I could even put it away, Mom’s voice barked in my ear, commanding and absolute. “Harper, give me your money. Your sister can’t handle hardship; she needs the extra cash.” I looked up. Mom had already shoved her own bill into Chloe’s hand, her face full of tenderness. “Chloe, listen to me. Harper and I won’t spend anything. You take the three hundred. If you’re careful, you’ll make it to the end.” Chloe’s eyes instantly welled up. She grabbed Mom’s hand. “No, Mom! I want us to make it together! We’ll survive on the three hundred as a team!” I watched them, feeling my heart sink into ice water. It froze, then cracked. Their plan was for “us” to survive on three hundred. That “us” clearly didn’t include me. They hadn’t spared a single thought on how I was supposed to survive without spending a penny. I gripped my hundred-dollar bill, took a silent step back, and put some distance between myself and that toxic pair. Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the crowd. “The store! The store is open!” Everyone’s attention snapped to the corner where a convenience store had materialized out of nowhere. Mom and Chloe were no exception; they craned their necks, already discussing what to buy. Now. While everyone was distracted by the store, I turned around. And I ran. I ran toward the shadows where no one was looking. 2 I ran for my life. The wind roared in my ears, and my heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted to break out. I didn’t dare look back. I knew if I did, I’d see Mom’s face twisted in disappointment and rage. She would grab me like she did when I was a child, pry my fingers open, take the money I was clutching, and shove it into Chloe’s pocket without hesitation. Because in her world, only Chloe mattered. Like that time at the theme park. We were a family of three then. The cable car stalled mid-air, dangling precariously over a valley. Mom held Chloe in a death grip, screaming at the first rescuers to arrive to take them down. She repeated it over and over: “Save my daughter! She’s little, she’s scared!” I was left alone in the swaying metal box, the wind howling through the cracks like ghosts. If I hadn’t screamed for help until my throat bled, maybe no one would have remembered there was another “daughter” up there. To my mother, Chloe was her child. I, Harper, was just a spare part. A tool. The arena was massive, empty like a giant warehouse. Luckily, the organizers had some humanity; there were clear signs pointing to “Supermarket #2” in the opposite direction. I burst into the store, gasping for air, and scanned the shelves. My brain was running like a supercomputer. One month. One hundred dollars. Rice and flour seemed the most cost-effective, but no. I noticed the fine print on the price tag: “Kitchen facility usage fee: $10/use.” Cooking was a luxury tax I couldn’t afford. Plus, heavy bags of flour would weigh me down. In a place where anything could happen, mobility was survival. Instant noodles were out, too. In high school, when Mom “forgot” to send my allowance, I survived on dry ramen bricks for months. The bloating, the indigestion, the acid reflux that burned my throat—I never wanted to feel that again. I survived, but my stomach didn’t. My eyes finally locked on my targets. A gallon of water: $1. A bulk pack of beef jerky and vacuum-sealed hardtack: $5. A multipack of toilet paper: $3. I paid immediately. Total: $9. Water is life. Jerky is protein and stays fresh. The crackers fill the void. If I rationed, this could last me five days. The toilet paper… well, in an emergency, it had multiple uses. As long as I minimized movement and kept my calorie burn low, I could live. I stuffed my supplies and my remaining $91 into my innermost pocket, keeping my hand pressed over it. Only then did I feel a faint sense of security. Leaving the store, I started hunting for a place to sleep. Passing a rest area, I stopped. 3 Not far away, a mother and daughter were huddled together. The young mother was tearing a small piece of bread. She gave the larger half to her daughter. “Eat, baby. You need strength.” The little girl shook her head sensibly and pushed the bread back. “Mommy eat. If Mommy doesn’t eat, I won’t eat.” The scene was blindingly wholesome. I could almost picture Mom and Chloe at the other supermarket right now. Mom would give all the best food to Chloe, watching her eat with a satisfied, doting smile. And Chloe would probably tear up, say something sweet like “Mom, let’s share,” and then guiltlessly consume the love meant only for her. Once, I naively asked, “Mom, why do you only like my sister and not me?” Now, I don’t ask. There is no why. Just like the sun doesn’t rise in the west, some people are just born without the right to be loved. I looked away, expressionless, and walked in the opposite direction. I found a corner under the bleachers of an open-air stadium. A large awning overhead blocked the dew. It was secluded enough to avoid most eyes. I shoved my water and paper into the corner, hugged the vacuum-sealed food to my chest, and curled up. The concrete floor was icy hard, hurting my bones, but I didn’t have time to complain. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to sleep. In this place, saving energy meant extending life. In a haze of sleep, I felt a weight on my chest. Hands groping. Wrong. I snapped my eyes open. A gaunt, sallow face was inches from mine. A man was trying to pull the food packet from my arms! Seeing me wake up, panic flickered in his eyes, followed by viciousness. He lunged, snatched the crumpled wad of cash from my pocket, and turned to run. “Give it back!” My brain buzzed. Blood rushed to my head. I didn’t think; I just tackled him, wrapping my arms around his legs. He tripped. Enraged, he turned and kicked me hard in the stomach. “Let go, you bitch! You wanna die?” Pain blinded me for a second, but I didn’t let go. I went feral. I used my nails, my teeth, anything to stop him. Back when I worked in a kitchen, a kind older woman taught me: If you meet a thug, don’t hit the face. It’s useless. Hit the weak spots. Incapacitate them. I saw my opening. I gathered every ounce of strength I had and kicked him squarely in the crotch. 4 “ARGH—!” The man let out a sound that wasn’t human. He curled into a ball, clutching himself. I scrambled over, pried his fingers open, and snatched back my $91. I gripped it so tight my knuckles turned white. “My money…” The man was sweating from pain, but he still tried to crawl toward me. My eyes went cold. I stomped down hard on his knee joint. CRACK. His leg bent at a sickening angle. I exhaled, pushing myself up. Only then did I realize a circle of people had gathered, pointing and whispering. The crowd parted. Mom and Chloe walked in. They had heard the commotion. “Harper! Are you insane?!” Mom saw the man on the ground, then looked at me with pure disgust. “How could you beat someone like that?!” Chloe chimed in, looking terrified, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Sis, you’re so violent… look at him, he’s bleeding!” I looked at them coldly. “He tried to rob me.” “He tried to rob you, so you break his leg?!” Mom’s voice screeched, as if I had committed a war crime. “Look at you! No manners, no heart! How did I give birth to something like you?!” “Our family might be broke, but we haven’t lost our conscience! You hurt him, you have to compensate him!” I clutched my money, silent. Mom pointed righteously at the food in my arms. “Forget money. Just give him the food you bought, and we’ll call it even!” I finally laughed. A dry, bitter sound. In my mom’s world, if Chloe is there, Chloe comes first. If Chloe isn’t there, strangers come first. I am always last. Sometimes I wonder what great sin I committed in a past life to deserve this mother. “No,” I said, the word hard as stone. “You dare talk back?!” Mom trembled with rage. “You ungrateful brat! You selfish wolf!” Chloe stepped forward, wearing her mask of saintly kindness. She reached out to take my food. “Sis, just listen to Mom. Look how pitiful he is. We can’t just leave him…” She reached for me. Just as her fingertips were about to touch the food package, the man on the ground began to convulse violently. His limbs twisted at impossible angles. A guttural gurgle rose from his throat. His eyes bulged, nearly popping out of their sockets. SNAP. A bone-chilling crack echoed through the silence. Under everyone’s horrified gaze, his neck snapped back 90 degrees on its own. His head lolled to the side. One second he was groaning; the next, he twitched and died.

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Back when I was naive and in love, my boyfriend took me home to meet his family. His uncle, cold and arrogant, didn’t mince words. “Dating is fine, but marriage is out of the question. Don’t bring home girls you’re just playing around with in the future.” As the words fell, a vision flashed before my eyes. Sebastian’s slender fingers interlaced with mine, possessing them completely. His other hand pressed firmly against my waist as he kissed me with abandon. I jolted awake. Wait. Me and… my boyfriend’s uncle?! No way! 1 “I’ve met her. Dating is fine, but marriage is off the table.” “We both know why she’s with you.” Through the crack in the private room door, I saw Sebastian standing there, impeccable in his suit, his expression icy. My boyfriend, Ben, was still trying to defend me. “Annie isn’t that kind of superficial girl.” “Isn’t she? A little freelance model. Her looks are her biggest asset. Do you honestly not know why she’s with you?” Ben fell silent for two seconds. “I know. We’re just having fun.” “Good. Don’t bring girls like that to me in the future. It’s a waste of my time.” I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I shoved my hands in my pockets and took a lap around the hallway. When I walked back in, Sebastian was gone. Ben was slouched in his chair, scrolling through his phone. Seeing me enter, he explained, “My uncle had another meeting, so he left early.” I nodded, acknowledging the info. He stood up and took my hand. “My uncle had great things to say about you.” “Before he left, he even mentioned how pretty you are.” “I told you, my taste in women is impeccable.” I forced a smile. “Is that so? I’m glad he liked me.” Ben didn’t notice anything off. Leaving the restaurant, he asked, “Where to next? My place?” His tone dripped with suggestion. I declined. “I have a shoot tonight.” “Should I pick you up?” “Don’t bother, it’ll go late.” Disappointment flashed across Ben’s face, quickly replaced by teasing. “My girlfriend is so hard to book these days.” “Fine, I guess this husband will be sleeping alone tonight.” I patted his head absentmindedly, not taking his words seriously. 2 I’ve had the ability to see the future since I was a kid. Flashes of what’s to come. The visions are short, usually just a second or two. When I first met Ben, he was dating another model on my set. When he came to visit her, I had a vision of him confessing his love to me. Ben wasn’t my type. Rich, flashy, obviously a player. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Not long after, I heard he broke up with that model. Then, he started pursuing me aggressively. The young master himself, checking in daily, running errands, hovering around me. Thanks to him, I got quite a few gigs during that time. I’m a practical person who needs money. Ben was handsome and brought benefits. I had no reason to say no. About six months later, Ben officially asked me out. The scene played out exactly as I had foreseen. Dating him was surprisingly pleasant. Ben dropped his playboy act, becoming considerate, gentle, and clingy. He even introduced me to the family member he respected most. Everyone joked that the great Ben had finally been tamed by me. But I stayed sober. How could a prodigal son stop for one woman? He just hadn’t found his next target yet. 3 Tonight’s shoot was for a famous lingerie brand. Funny enough, I got this gig because of Ben. The brand’s designer, Wendy, was childhood friends with Ben’s uncle. I’d worked with her a few times thanks to Ben’s introduction. For the new collection launch, she contacted me directly, bypassing Ben. “This shoot is bolder than usual. I’m guessing Ben wouldn’t approve. But the style suits you, and the pay is good. Want to try it?” I looked at the rate and agreed immediately. As a model, you can’t be picky about clothes. I’ve shot way more revealing lingerie than this. It’s just sleepwear. What I didn’t expect was running into Sebastian here. He was still wearing the same suit from earlier today. Standing next to Wendy, looking cold and detached. I, on the other hand, had already changed into a black silk nightgown. Lace trim, the hem barely covering my hips, my back completely exposed. Earlier today, thinking about meeting the “elder,” I had deliberately chosen a conservative grey suit to make a good impression. Who knew that just a few hours later, my “true colors” would be revealed. I felt awkward for a moment, but remembering what Sebastian said to Ben, I let it go. He already figured I wasn’t a “proper” girl anyway. I ignored him and was about to head to the set when Wendy called me over. Wendy introduced us enthusiastically, “This is Sebastian, Ben’s uncle.” Then she looked at Sebastian, grinning widely. “Guess who this is?” Before Sebastian could speak, she answered herself, “Ben’s new girlfriend. Pretty, right?” Sebastian’s gaze finally landed on me, scanning me from top to bottom before spitting out two words: “Mediocre taste.” Suddenly, another vision flashed before me. Sebastian pressing me against the changing room mirror, his rough hands roaming my back. Then, a deep red nightgown tearing apart in his hands. The vision ended abruptly, but my face burned red for those two seconds. Why are all my visions involving Sebastian so intense?! Wendy misinterpreted my reaction and nudged Sebastian playfully. “Your mouth is still so toxic. Look, you made her mad.” “Ben is young; it’s normal to date based on looks.” “Your standards are just too high, that’s why you’re still single.” I wanted to roll my eyes but maintained basic politeness. “Wendy, is there anything else? The shoot is about to start.” Wendy seemed to snap back to reality and waved me off. During the shoot, I constantly felt a gaze on me. It felt like Sebastian, but when I looked over, he still wore that indifferent expression. I figured looking at him would just ruin my mood, so I stopped paying attention. The last outfit was the boldest of the collection. A deep V-neck, the fabric held together by thin strings. The skirt was sheer, leaving little to the imagination. When I walked out wearing it, the room went silent for a few seconds. I may be young, but I started in this industry early. I know exactly what my assets are. The reaction was expected. I curved my lips into a smile, ready to shoot. Suddenly, a black suit jacket fell from the sky. Before I could react, I was dragged back into the dressing room. The door slammed shut. “How could Ben agree to let you shoot this kind of stuff?” I froze, realizing the person blocking my way was Sebastian. “This doesn’t seem to concern you, does it?” Sebastian’s lips tightened. “Are you really not afraid I’ll tell Ben?” “It’s your mouth. Do whatever you want.” Sebastian stared at me, thinking for two seconds. “You need money that badly?” “Is there anyone in this world who doesn’t need money?” “What Ben gives you isn’t enough?” “Have you ever met a gold digger who complained about having too much money?” Hearing this, Sebastian suddenly laughed. He lit a cigarette, looking down, not explaining his previous words. Instead, he said, “Skip this outfit. You’ll be paid according to the contract. I’ll talk to Wendy.” I was about to object when he continued, “You must have heard Ben talk about me. Even if you aren’t afraid of breaking up, you should consider your career, don’t you think?” Ben did talk about his almighty uncle often. The youngest son of the patriarch, only seven years older than Ben. But at a young age, he was already running the company, with investments spanning the entire entertainment industry. I stayed silent this time, and Sebastian seemed satisfied. When I changed back into my street clothes and walked out, they were already wrapping up. Wendy walked up to me, holding a gift bag. Apologetically, she said, “I knew Ben was petty and possessive. He wouldn’t let you shoot stuff like this.” “My fault for bringing Sebastian. That guy has a loose tongue, probably told Ben immediately. Just skip the last outfit.” I glanced at Sebastian in surprise. His face was blank. I guess he used Ben as a shield. Fine by me. Even an idiot could see Wendy had a thing for Sebastian. I didn’t want to offend anyone, so I played along. “It’s okay, Wendy. As long as I didn’t delay your work.” “Just one outfit, no big deal. Here, take this unreleased sample as a gift.” I looked down. It was a deep red nightgown. The style… exactly the same as the one I saw Sebastian tearing apart in my vision. My left eye twitched violently. I looked up to meet Sebastian’s thoughtful gaze. My heart skipped a beat. I’m throwing this dress away as soon as I get home! 4 That night, right after I showered, my phone buzzed twice. It was a text from Ben. Ben: “Babe, are you home?” Just as I was about to reply, I noticed a red dot on my friend requests. I tapped it. The username was just one character: “S.” My thumb hovered over the accept button, but I chose to ignore it. For the next few days, Ben and I didn’t see each other. I guessed Sebastian’s dismissive attitude at the “meet the parents” dinner influenced him. He was deliberately distancing himself. But I didn’t care. I kept taking modeling jobs to make money. School started in September, and I got busy with my thesis. One day, on my way to my advisor’s office, I got a message. It was a photo of Ben sleeping in bed. Retracted a few seconds later. Cindy: “Oops, sorry Annie, slipped my hand.” Who slips and sends a photo of my sleeping boyfriend? I scoffed, finally remembering who Cindy was. A small-time model I’d worked with before. I remembered her because she was overly friendly with Ben back then. Calling him “brother” this and that, hinting how lucky I was to snag a rich guy. Ben had even complained to me that she wore her ambition on her face. Turns out, they hooked up anyway. Annoyed, I shoved my phone in my pocket. Standing at the stairwell, I exhaled heavily. Turning to enter the office, I bumped into someone. I looked up to see Sebastian standing there. Before I could speak, my advisor’s angry voice rang out. “Clumsy all day long! Apologize to Mr. Sterling immediately!” The little old man pulled me aside, looking disdainful. Introducing me, “This is Annie, my underachieving student.” My advisor didn’t notice the weird vibe between us and continued, “Annie, this is Mr. Sterling. I invited him to give a guest lecture. For now, you’ll be his TA, responsible for coordinating his schedule.” Too much information. I froze for a few seconds before managing an “Okay.” Only when we were alone in the office did he speak. “Lingerie model, business school student. Miss Zhou has quite the variety of identities.” “Famous entrepreneur, guest lecturer. Mr. Sterling isn’t doing too bad either.” Sebastian chuckled low. Just then, another vision flashed before my eyes. Sebastian lifting me by the waist, placing me on the office desk to kiss me. My head tilted back, my right hand accidentally knocking over a succulent pot. Dirt spilled everywhere. The vision ended, and I was left wanting more. Although we’d met a few times, this was the first time I really observed Sebastian. Unlike Ben’s flashy handsomeness, Sebastian was impeccably dressed, cold-faced, exuding an abstinent, elite aura. The contrast between reality and the vision was stark. My lips curved up involuntarily. I was kind of looking forward to it. What kind of change would make a man like this go crazy? While I was lost in thought, Sebastian spoke suddenly. “Does Ben know you go to school here? He didn’t mention it last time.” “Does it make a difference to you guys whether he says it or not?” Sebastian paused again, the smile in his eyes deepening. “So why be an online model? With your background, I would think an investment bank or securities firm would be more suitable.” “You asked before. I need money.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. I didn’t explain further. I really do need money. I foresaw my parents’ deaths when I was young. Despite all efforts, I couldn’t save them. That’s when I knew the ability to “see the future” wouldn’t change my life. Later, I lived with my grandma. Her health was poor, and I had to cover her hospital bills and my tuition. So starting in high school, I worked everywhere. Accidentally, photos of me selling clothes went viral, and I stumbled into modeling. Though many look down on it, it helped me go from nothing to where I am. It even put me through college.

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The System ordered me to “redeem” my depressed husband with the power of love. I said, “Hard pass.” When he picked up a knife to slash his wrist, I didn’t bat an eye. Instead, I threw open the balcony window and shrieked like a banshee: “My brand new limited-edition Louboutins just snapped! Oh God, why me? I literally can’t go on!” Afraid of alerting the neighbors, my husband had to put down the knife and come over to comfort me. “Don’t cry,” he mumbled. “We’ll go to the mall. I’ll buy you a new pair.” In the middle of the night, when he tried to slip away to the train tracks to “find some peace,” I shoved my ice-cold feet directly under his shirt, right against his chest. “I’m freezing to death here. Warm me up, right now.” The man shuddered from the cold, frowned, and grabbed my feet. He had no choice but to tuck the duvet tighter around us. After living together for a while, he still wanted to die. I remained indifferent. “Fine. But before you off yourself, let’s get a divorce.” My husband froze. “Do I have to divorce you to die?” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Duh. I can only leave this hellhole if I divorce you!” Suddenly, the man panicked and wrapped his arms around me. “Then I’m not dying. I don’t want a divorce.” 1 I was, unfortunately, the “chosen one.” The System plucked me out of my life and dropped me into this script as the wife of Julian Vance. The wife of a gloomy, depressed billionaire heir. The System, using that self-righteous, “great responsibility” voice, tried to lecture me: [Ms. Chloe, in this narrative, you can only return to your original world if you successfully redeem and heal your wounded husband.] I ripped open the blackout curtains, letting the blinding light hit my dead-tired eyes. “Why?” I snapped. “I work like a dog nine-to-five, commute in traffic, and come home exhausted. Now I have to babysit a grown man and convince him life is worth living? I want to die half the time!” So, when Julian went through his episodes, I usually pretended I was blind. After the System issued multiple warnings that I ignored, it finally gave up. [Fine. If you can be cold enough to ignore a man this hot, then do whatever you want, Chloe. You’re on your own!] Without the System nagging me, I completely stopped caring if this man lived or died. 2 Because Julian was a trust-fund baby, his old man left him a mountain of inheritance. The guy didn’t have to work a day in his life. He was the living embodiment of that internet aesthetic: “I don’t want money, I just want to feel something.” Too much cash, nowhere to spend it, so he got depressed. And I, a corporate wage slave, got kidnapped into this world to “save” the sad rich boy. Please. Don’t regular people’s lives matter? I didn’t care about his existential dread. Since he was legally my husband, he could make himself useful. Today, like every day, he was rotting in his bedroom. I banged on the door aggressively. He got annoyed and cracked it open an inch. A pair of dark, sunken eyes stared out at me. “What?” His tone was flat. “I’m starving. Go make food.” My tone was worse. “No.” He tried to slam the door and lock it, but I jammed my foot in the gap and shoved it open. The man was six-foot-two, standing there expressionless. His bangs were so long they covered his eyes; all I could see was a sharp, pale jawline. Looking at his zombie-like state, my rage spiked. “Go cook. Then, go downstairs and get a haircut. You look like the ghost from The Ring.” He was already pale, and with that hair, he literally looked like a spirit. Julian didn’t move. I lost my patience. I grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward. He stumbled right into my arms, looking genuinely panicked. “Are you crazy?” he gasped. I brushed his messy bangs back and clipped a pink hair clip from my own head onto his. Seeing his handsome face fully revealed, my anger instantly cooled by fifty percent. My voice involuntarily softened. “Be a good boy. You’re my husband, right? If you don’t feed me, who will?” Julian blinked, seemingly processing the logic. I let him go. He smoothed out his wrinkled shirt, rolled down his sleeves to cover the scars on his arms, and turned to grab the apron from the kitchen. “Spicy pork stir-fry again?” came his quiet voice from the kitchen a moment later. I collapsed onto the sofa. “Yep.” 3 How do you deal with a mentally ill person? Treat them like a normal person. After dinner, while he was washing dishes, I grabbed his coat and stood in the hallway, blocking his retreat to his bedroom. “Dishes are done. Let me go back to my room,” he said coldly. But with that pink cartoon hair clip on his head, his “cool guy” act was hilarious. “Pfft—” I snorted. “What are you laughing at?” His brow furrowed. An actual expression. “Honestly? You’re kind of cute sometimes.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh. We agreed on a haircut. I’m tired of living with a ghost.” 4 Julian was mad. After the barber finished, he angrily shoved the pink clip back into my hand. “Here.” I looked at the man in front of me—clean-cut, strikingly handsome—and couldn’t figure out why he was pouting. But since he was giving me attitude, I ignored him. The upscale gated community was empty at night. We walked single file, with enough distance between us to fit a semi-truck. He power-walked ahead; I lagged behind, distracted by animals. “Psst, hey kitty. Hey puppy. Come here, babies.” A pristine tortoiseshell cat and a filthy, matted Samoyed. One was a stray; the other looked like a fresh dump-and-run. Stray cat rule: Finders keepers. Stray dog rule: Same thing. My karma must have peaked tonight. A cat and a dog? The Samoyed’s tail was wagging like a propeller. The cat was rubbing its head against my sweatpants. I was giggling like an idiot. Julian heard me. He turned around. With his hair cut, the gloomy vibe was gone. Standing there with his hands in his pockets, he looked like a model. “Why are you walking so slow?” he asked dryly. I picked at my ear and tilted my head. “Blah blah blah. Can’t hear you from that zip code.”

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On my very first day at Crestwood Academy, I committed the ultimate social sin: I wore the exact same vintage dress as Chloe, the school’s reigning “It Girl.” Jax, the school’s resident bad boy and captain of everything, cornered me immediately. “You manipulative little try-hard,” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re ugly as hell and you think you can just clone her style?” He deliberately tipped his carton of chocolate milk over my head. While muttering a sarcastic “oops,” he reached out and aggressively brushed my thick bangs off my forehead, exposing my face to the crowded cafeteria. He paused, noticing my mismatched pupils. A cold, mocking laugh escaped his lips. “Wow. Wearing colored contacts on day one? Who are you trying to seduce, freak?” I kept my head down, staring at my converse sneakers, and whispered, “It’s not a contact lens. It’s a prosthetic.” Jax froze. 1 “What?” Jax looked like his brain had just short-circuited. He frowned, his expression shifting from malice to something weirdly unsettled. “What did you just say? If it’s not a contact, what is it?” I sighed. This was always the worst part of transferring. Calmly, I pushed Jax’s hand away. I slicked my milk-soaked hair back, used a napkin to wipe the sticky mess off my face, and revealed my pale, emotionless expression. I looked Jax dead in the eye. “Watch.” Jax narrowed his eyes, confused. In the next second, with practiced ease, I reached up, pried my eyelids apart, and right there in front of the entire junior class, I popped the prosthetic out. I held the golden-hazel glass eye in my palm, thrusting it toward Jax’s pale face. I repeated myself, my voice flat. “This isn’t a contact lens. It’s my glass eye.” “Is that clear enough for you?” The chaotic cafeteria instantly went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. Jax stared at my empty left socket for a long time, stumbling back two steps in disbelief. “How… how is that possible?” He looked dazed, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch my face, but I swatted it away. I lowered my head, quickly slipped the eye back into the socket, and adjusted it until it sat right. I knew I looked like a wreck—milk-stained and disheveled. But I’d been through worse. This was nothing. When I looked up again, Jax’s expression was complicated. “I thought you were…” His lips trembled like he wanted to say something else. Just then, the bell rang. I didn’t wait. I walked right past a stiff-as-a-board Jax and went straight to my assigned desk. My hair was dripping wet. I wiped it silently with paper towels, but it didn’t help much. The sticky, gross feeling remained. I ran out of tissues, gave up on my stained shirt, and pulled out my textbook. Jax stood by my desk, motionless. He watched me clean myself up without saying a word, his knuckles white as he gripped the empty milk carton. When I stopped moving, his eyes lingered on my damp hair. After a long moment, Jax kicked the chair of the girl sitting in front of me—Chloe. “Give me your tissues.” Chloe glared at him. “Jax, what is your problem? The teacher is coming, sit down!” “I said, give me the damn tissues!” Jax’s voice boomed. “Are you deaf?” 2 The classroom was already quiet, waiting for the teacher. Jax’s outburst drew every pair of eyes in the room. Startled, Chloe bit her lip, eyes welling up, and dug a travel pack of tissues out of her bag, throwing it at him. “You’re crazy! Why are you yelling at me?” Jax ignored her. He took the tissues and shoved them toward me. I didn’t take them. His hand hovered in mid-air. “Take them. Use them,” Jax said, his face pale, his voice edged with frustration. Slowly, I looked up and locked eyes with him. The moment he saw my golden pupil, he flinched like he’d been stung and jerked his head away, avoiding eye contact. “What are you looking at? Just take it,” he snapped, trying to sound tough. I realized then that after I took my eye out, Jax’s entire vibe had flipped. Seeing him act so awkward gave me a weird idea. “Is this your way of apologizing?” I asked calmly. Jax stiffened. His fingers twitched, betraying his panic. “If taking your tissues means I have to forgive you, then no thanks,” I said, watching his brow furrow. “I have no intention of accepting your apology. So please, take your trash and get away from me.” Jax looked like I’d just slapped him. His face darkened. Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, he shoved the tissues into my desk cubby. I immediately took them out and dropped them on the floor. Jax silently picked them up and tried to hand them back. Just then, the teacher walked in. Chloe, watching this tug-of-war, looked furious. Before the teacher reached the podium, she stood up and yanked Jax toward the back of the room. “She doesn’t want to talk to you! Why are you simping for her?” She dragged him back, purposely hip-checking my desk as she passed. I stared straight ahead, ignoring them both. Halfway through the lecture, a loud crack echoed from the back row. The sound of a hand hitting skin. Jax had slapped himself. Hard. The whole class turned around. Even Chloe kept glancing back at him, bewildered. Every time she looked at him, she’d shoot a glare at me, as if his breakdown was my fault. I ignored them. I pretended they didn’t exist. 3 I barely made it to the break. The sticky milk on my skin was unbearable. I stood up to go to the restroom to wash up, but my foot caught on something—probably a bag strap someone left out. I pitched forward. I threw my hands out, but my elbows still skid across the linoleum, tearing the skin. “Ahh.” I hissed in pain. Blood started seeping through the abrasions on my arm. It looked worse than it was. I was trying to push myself up when someone shoved through the crowd, grabbed me by the waist and knees, and scooped me up into the air. Caught off guard, I instinctively grabbed the person’s shoulders. “You okay?” Jax’s voice was right in my ear. He saw my bleeding arm and frowned deep. “Don’t move. I’m taking you to the nurse.” “I hurt my arm, not my legs,” I said coldly. “Put me down. I can walk.” Jax pretended he didn’t hear me. He gripped me tighter. “I can carry you,” he muttered. “Stop acting tough.” I almost laughed. I opened my mouth to argue, but Jax suddenly stumbled. His foot slipped, and he lost his balance. Gravity took over. “Jax!” I screamed. He tried to cup the back of my head to protect me, but it didn’t work. We hit the ground hard. Because he was holding me, I landed on top of him, but the momentum slammed the back of my head into a locker. Thud. My brain went fuzzy. Before everything went black, I heard Jax yelling in panic: “Chloe! Get over here! Your cousin passed out!” My heart sank. So, Jax knew I was Chloe’s cousin. No wonder he hated me. 4 I woke up at the worst—or best—possible time. “You promised me!” Chloe’s shrill voice cut through the air. “You said you’d teach her a lesson. Why are you backing out now?” I kept my eyes closed. I could hear the rhythmic tapping of fingers on a table. “I said I’d help you mess with her,” Jax said, his voice low and annoyed. “But you didn’t tell me she was disabled, Chloe.” “You want me to bully a girl with a fake eye? What do you think I am? An animal?” Chloe’s angry shouting turned into a pathetic whine. “She’s just a crippled bitch! If she destroyed your life and stole everything your parents gave you, I bet you wouldn’t be so high and mighty about forgiving her!” Jax went silent. The tapping stopped. “Jax, you promised,” Chloe pushed, her voice dripping with malice. “You owe me for taking the heat on that suspension last semester.” “I don’t want anything else. Just destroy her.” I heard footsteps as she moved closer to him. “Break her. I don’t care how you do it.” The nurse’s office was silent for a long time. I heard the wind rustling the curtains. Then, Jax sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it.” Chloe squealed in delight. She immediately switched back to her bubbly self, offering to buy Jax lunch. He didn’t refuse, and they walked out together. As the door clicked shut, I opened my eyes. My head throbbed, but I was okay. I stopped the recording app on my phone and sat up. I knew Chloe hated me. When my aunt and uncle took me in after the accident, she was furious. She hid her hostility behind fake smiles in front of her parents. I just didn’t know she wanted me destroyed. I thought about Jax slapping himself in class earlier. And then his resigned, “Fine, I’ll do it.” It was almost funny. I was actually curious. I wanted to see exactly how Jax planned to “break” me. 5 I walked back to the classroom just before lunch ended. Before I even stepped inside, I heard Jax’s booming voice. “Listen up! From now on, Harper is under my protection!” “If I hear anyone call her a cripple, a blind girl, or a freak, you’re dealing with me!” I paused at the door, frowning. Literally no one had called me those names except him. Now, thanks to his little speech, everyone would associate “Harper” with “cripple” forever. I turned to leave, but someone grabbed my wrist. “Harper’s here!” a guy shouted, laughing. I looked up to see Chloe grinning, a smile so bright it looked painful. “Where have you been? Jax has been looking everywhere for you.” She shoved me toward the center of the room. Jax hopped off the teacher’s desk and walked toward me. “Harper,” he said, taking my hand with a solemn expression. “I owe you a huge apology for today.” “I didn’t know about your… situation. I said some messed up stuff. And then I dropped you.” He winced slightly. “I am sincerely sorry. Please forgive me. Otherwise, I won’t be able to sleep at night.” The whole class was watching. This was theater, directed by Jax and Chloe. And I was the prop. I looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t accept apologies that aren’t sincere.” Jax raised an eyebrow, surprised. “How is this not sincere?” He gestured to the crowd. “I’m apologizing in front of everyone.” “You hurt me, and your solution is to force me to forgive you publicly so you look like the good guy. It’s manipulative,” I said calmly. “You don’t think you’re wrong. You’re just arrogant. It’s hypocritical.” Jax’s smile froze. The students gasped. Even Chloe looked shocked that I had a backbone. “So,” I tilted my head, “can you get lost now?” Jax stared at me for a long beat, then suddenly laughed. He stepped aside, sweeping his arm in a ‘after you’ gesture. As I walked past, he called out, “Hey, Harper! I’m going to show you how sincere I am!” He kept his word. From that moment on, he stopped taking smoke breaks between classes. He kicked the guy sitting next to me out of his seat and claimed the desk, spending all day resting his chin on his hand, staring at me.

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The night before my wedding to Harrison, I found out the truth: I was never the daughter. I was the decoy. I was adopted solely to be a human shield for the real heiress, absorbing every disaster meant for her. This wedding? It was just the final level of a game designed to pave her way to the top while stepping over my corpse. In a moment of desperation, I texted the contact in my phone saved as “6’3, 21, Dead Broke”: “You coming to crash my wedding tomorrow?” The reply was instant: “No. I’m not that pathetic.” I turned off my phone and didn’t reply. The next morning, a video went viral on TikTok. It showed one of New York’s most elusive billionaires, sprinting down a highway in the dead of night, wearing a tuxedo and a look of absolute fury. 1 The night before the wedding, I realized the dress was wrong. Not only was the size off, but the style was completely different from the custom gown I’d selected. When I confronted the hotel staff, they insisted there was no mistake. They said Mr. Vance—Harrison—had given specific instructions. Two dresses. One to the Penthouse Suite on the 68th floor, one to the 67th. Since both brides’ last name was Whitman, they had triple-checked. No mistake. Harrison wasn’t answering his phone. I decided to go upstairs to the Penthouse and ask him myself. But when I pushed the door open, I froze. The gown that was supposed to be mine was currently being worn by another woman. My mother was holding her, cooing as the woman pouted playfully. My father and Harrison sat nearby, their eyes soft, practically dripping with adoration. I stood in the doorway, paralyzed. I don’t know how long I stood there before Harrison’s phone rang. He picked it up, and the smile instantly vanished from his face. He didn’t even have the patience to listen, cutting the caller off with a curt, “Ignore her.” When he hung up, my father asked, “Is Quinn causing trouble again?” Harrison nodded, looking annoyed. “Just the imposter. She actually thinks I’m going to marry her. So much drama.” The woman in the wedding dress started to ask a question, but they quickly made up an excuse to send her to another room. Watching her leave, the smile on my mother’s face evaporated. It was replaced by a chilling coldness. She shot Harrison a reassuring look. “Just endure it a little longer. After tomorrow, the decoy won’t be of any use to us.” The “decoy” they were talking about was me. I gripped the doorframe, knuckles white. I was about to turn and run when a soft voice called out from behind me. “Can I help you with something?” It was the woman in the dress. As soon as they saw me, the blood drained from my parents’ and fiancé’s faces. 2 Harrison dragged me back to my room. He towered over me, his voice ice-cold. “I planned to tell you after the ceremony, but since you couldn’t wait, you might as well know now.” Harrison pulled up a photo on his phone. An old family portrait. It showed my parents holding a baby. His gaze softened as he looked at the screen. “The Whitman family business wasn’t always clean. They made enemies. Their only daughter was kidnapped constantly. One time, it almost killed her.” “So, they hid their real daughter in a different city and adopted another girl to raise as the ‘Whitman Heiress’ in the public eye.” I wanted to laugh. But as soon as my lips twitched, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. No wonder. No wonder my childhood was filled with car accidents and kidnapping attempts. Every time I was in danger, “Mom and Dad” would show up with a gift, take a look at me, and then rush off to “another city for business.” No wonder they were always traveling. If I cried and begged to go with them, they would slap me across the face, call me selfish, and have the nanny lock me in the dark closet to “reflect.” Every time I asked, I got locked up. No food, no water. If I cried too loud, the nanny would “discipline” me for them. When they returned from their “business trips” and heard I hadn’t reflected properly, I’d get beaten again. They said ungrateful children deserved it. They said they were running around the world to give me a luxurious life, yet I was rotten to the core. Traveling became my biggest trigger. I didn’t dare mention it. Even the city where they hid her became a nightmare for me. In high school, when a field trip was announced to that specific city, I had a panic attack on the spot. I curled up under my desk, hyperventilating, screaming that I wouldn’t go. Word got back to my parents. They sponsored the trip and forced the school to change the location. But the new location was terrible, and the trip was ruined. My classmates started resenting me. They called me a princess, a psycho. Those labels stuck to me all through high school, suffocating me. Harrison continued, articulating every word. “From start to finish, the only person I ever intended to marry was Zoe.” “Marrying you is just a PR move. We need a transition to let Zoe integrate into this circle smoothly.” The real Whitman daughter returns. Everyone will realize I’m the fake. Many of our high school classmates are in this social circle. They’ll dig up the old “psycho” rumors. Compared to me, the beautiful, gentle, and cultured Zoe will be instantly embraced. And I will carry the label of the crazy imposter forever. Seeing the blood drain from my face, Harrison softened his tone slightly. “As long as you cooperate, for the sake of our years together, I won’t treat you poorly.” Years together? What years? Wasn’t the affection, the family dinners—wasn’t it all just a performance for the kidnappers? I wiped my tears aggressively and forced a grin. “Sure. I’ll cooperate. I’ll tell everyone how you used a child as bait to protect Zoe. How shameless you—” Before I could finish, Harrison grabbed me by the throat. Before he could speak, Zoe rushed in from the hallway. “Harrison! Let her go!” she screamed. Harrison acted like he didn’t hear her. He shifted his grip to my jaw, forcing me to look at Zoe. He smiled reassuringly at her, then looked back at me with dead eyes. “Look at yourself. In what world do you compare to Zoe? In what world do you deserve to marry me?” “If it wasn’t to protect her, I wouldn’t have spent a single second with you.” Zoe pried at his fingers, begging him to stop. Harrison shoved me away violently. He ordered the bodyguards to watch me, then grabbed Zoe’s hand and dragged her out. Moments later, I heard a heated argument erupting in the hallway. 3 I curled up in the corner, running through every possible escape route in my head. Suddenly, the quiet click of the door lock echoed in the room. I walked over. It was my phone, sliding across the floor. There was a sticky note on the back, three words written in large, hurried letters: I AM SORRY. I glanced at it, too drained to care who sent it. I unlocked the phone and scrolled through my contacts until my finger hovered over: “6’3, 21, Dead Broke.” I bit my lip and hit dial. He picked up instantly. But there was silence on the other end. Just the faint sound of breathing. I steadied my voice. “Hunter… can you come steal the bride tomorrow?” There was a loud crash on the other end, like something heavy falling. A long silence followed before Hunter let out a cold, dry laugh. “Quinn, I’m not that pathetic.” I bit my lip so hard it tasted like iron. A sob escaped before I could stop it. Before he could speak again, I choked out, “Sorry to bother you,” and hung up. Less than a minute later, he called back. My vision was blurred with tears. My hand shook as I tried to slide the answer button. The second the call connected, my battery hit 0%. The screen went black. 4 At 5:00 AM, the makeup team barged in. I was groggily pushed into the chair in front of the mirror. The assistant set up her tools and left her phone propped up on the counter. It was playing a video on loop. The makeup artist glanced at it and laughed. “Look at this. ‘Billionaire in a tux sprinting down the highway at 2 AM.’ Rich people are so dramatic.” She shook her head. “Another ‘she runs, he chases’ soap opera.” The assistant giggled, grabbing the phone. “It’s like a fanfic come to life.” She stared at the screen and sighed. “But imagine not wanting to marry Hunter Sterling. With a face like that? I don’t care if he’s a tycoon or a tyrant, I’d say yes.” Hearing the name, my brow twitched. “Who?” The assistant repeated it. “Hunter Sterling.” She had a heavy accent and a stuffy nose from a cold. The way she said it… it didn’t sound exactly like my Hunter. I stared at the blurry back of the man in the video, lost in thought. Just a similar name. The Hunter I knew couldn’t afford dinner, let alone a bespoke tuxedo. There was no way he was a “Beijing Circle” equivalent billionaire. I let out a bitter laugh. If he really was that powerful, maybe he wouldn’t have suffered so much because of me.

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After graduating from the Academy for High-Society Pets, I only needed three moves to snag a billionaire owner: The Wiggle, The Cling, and The Squeak. But my life of luxury didn’t last long. Disaster struck. The sugar mama I hooked turned out to be a fake heiress! “What are we going to do, Dumpling? We’re getting kicked out…” The fake heiress was crying her eyes out. What was a cat supposed to do? Swallow my pride and find a few more sugar daddies to support her, of course! 01 I never thought I, a distinguished graduate of the Elite Pet Etiquette School, would end up in the boonies. After my owner’s identity as a “fake heiress” was exposed, she was swept out the door like yesterday’s trash. And I was collateral damage. On the day of the eviction, I clawed onto my gold-rimmed, velvet-lined cat bed, meowing my heart out, refusing to leave. My owner, Serena, couldn’t bear it. She tried to bargain with her adoptive parents: “Can’t we at least let Dumpling stay…” Dumpling is my name. Hearing this, I let out a long, thin, pathetic “Mewww—” I was pinching my throat so hard I nearly choked. But the real daughter shattered my dreams of staying in the lap of luxury with just four words. She said: “I’m allergic to cats.” Game over. My rich-cat dreams? Crumbled. Serena and I were packed up and shipped off to the middle of nowhere. Looking at the rotting farmhouse, the shattered windows, the dead fields, and my now-bankrupt “sugar mama,” I made a decision immediately— Run! I’m running away tonight! 02 Actually, it’s not like I haven’t suffered before. A year ago, I was a nameless stray. My next meal was entirely up to fate. That was until one day, I passed by a ground-floor classroom window. Inside, there was a flock of women. Sharp chins, big eyes, legs for days. In the center stood an instructor, looking confident: “I guarantee, if you take my class, you will snag a Golden Meal Ticket within two months!” My ears perked up instantly. Meal ticket? And it’s golden? Did that mean I’d never be hungry again? From then on, I squatted outside that window every day, absorbing knowledge. Two months later, I had mastered the curriculum. I began scouting for a target. Serena was the mark I chose. The day I met her, she was stepping out of a car with a winged “B” logo. I remembered the teacher saying that was a Bentley. Only rich people drove those. Then I saw the bag in the passenger seat—Hermès. The logo on her shirt—subtle, understated, but definitely on the “Expensive Stuff” list the teacher mentioned. Certified Old Money. I took initiative and jumped straight into the car. Serena was startled. “Where did this cat come from?” She scooped me up and put me outside. I didn’t hesitate for a second. I jumped right back in. Those who achieve greatness do not care about trifles. A gold-digging cat needs no shame. I copied the method the teacher taught: I gave her a wink. Then, combining it with my natural talents, I lifted my head and did The Wiggle. Serena face-palmed. “Stop wiggling. I don’t even like cats. It’s not going to work.” Ha. Just playing hard to get. If she really didn’t like me, that door would have been slammed shut already. The teacher said rich people care about appearances. No problem. I can satisfy her vanity, as long as she spends that cash on me. I refused to leave, rubbing my fluffy head against her hand. Seeing she wasn’t kicking me out again, I moved to step two— I jumped onto her shoulder, “accidentally” slipped, and dug my claws into the leather, leaving several deep scratches on the upholstery. This technique is called “Creating Sunk Cost.” “Oh my god, you cat! You ruined my leather seats!” She complained, but there was no real anger in her voice. Her hand even cupped my butt to keep me from falling. Perfect! Rich, loaded, and emotionally stable. At that moment, I decided— I am entering this mansion today! “Meow-meow didn’t mean to ruin your leather. I’m just a clumsy little baby…” I blinked my big, watery eyes, broadcasting the “innocent debutante” look I’d practiced. Then came the kneading and nuzzling, showing off my affectionate side. Serena’s expression softened, her eyes glimmering. “Have you decided? You really want to come with me?” I let out a long “Mewww—” and dove straight into her arms. This move is called “Sealing the Deal.” From then on, I lived the carefree life of a wealthy pet. Serena named me “Dumpling.” She said it was because I was too skinny, and she hoped I’d grow round and happy by her side. My food was Michelin-star grade wet food. My bed was encrusted with jewels. I even had a masseuse come over for weekly kitty spas. Heh. Humans and their tough talk. She started with “I~ don’t~ like~ cats~.” Her actions said otherwise. However, the good life lasted less than a year. Disaster struck. Serena’s parents discovered that their biological daughter had been switched at birth by a nurse. Serena… was the fake heiress! The real daughter grew up in the countryside. Her adoptive parents had passed away, and she had lived a hard life. Worried the real daughter would feel slighted, the parents decided to put everyone back where they belonged. “Serena, you’ve enjoyed a good life for years. It’s time you went back to the life you were meant to have.” And so, Serena was shipped off to the boonies. And me, the aristocratic cat, became a barn cat. 03 Originally, I planned to bolt tonight. But the situation got a little tricky. Staring at the empty, giant iron pot on the wood-burning stove, the human and the cat were equally dumbfounded. “Dumpling… how do we cook with this?” You’re asking a cat? Cat is helpless. Cat shakes head. But Cat is hungry. We hadn’t eaten all day due to the travel. When we left the mansion, Serena didn’t take anything. Because the real heiress said everything Serena owned technically belonged to her. Serena left empty-handed, taking only me. The family driver, pitying her, had slipped her a red envelope with $150 in it and stopped at a market to buy some raw meat and vegetables. He told her to cook them when she got to her new home. But the driver forgot one thing— Serena, the former princess, didn’t know how to cook. Especially not on a primitive wood stove. “Maybe… we ask the neighbor for a light?” Serena carried me and knocked on the neighbor’s door. The door was opened by an Alt Girl. Purple straight hair, ripped jeans, full sleeve tattoos, a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her face screamed impatient. “Who are you? What do you want?” Serena jumped. She expected a simple farm wife, not a punk rocker. She’d never seen anyone dressed like this and froze up. Time for the Cat to step up. I pawed at the girl’s pant leg, meowing softly. The girl cracked a smile instantly, lowering her cigarette. “Yo, kitty wants a drag?” Cat covers mouth. Cat shakes head. No smoking for kitty. Serena finally found the courage to speak. “Could we… borrow a lighter?” “Just say so. Why the hesitation?” The girl tossed a lighter over, teased me for a second, then waved us off. There were some dry branches in the yard. Serena gathered them for kindling. But the wood was damp. It wouldn’t catch. Thick black smoke billowed out. “Why won’t it light…” Serena held me, poking at the stove with a stick. My curious cat head leaned in to look. BOOM. Suddenly, the stove caught. Flames shot out of the opening, the blast knocking us both backward. Simultaneously, the sparks ignited a pile of dry straw on the floor. The already dilapidated mud house was instantly engulfed in thick black soot. Serena and I, faces now covered in black ash, sat on the floor in shock. “Mew…” Since entering high society, I hadn’t been this dirty. My stomach growled. My white paws were now gray paws. The urge to run away intensified. But before I could meow, a drop of water landed on my head. I looked up. Serena’s eyes were red and brimming with tears. Big, heavy drops rolled down her cheeks, cutting two clear tracks through the soot on her face. I had never seen Serena cry. Even when she was kicked out of the mansion, she just bowed her head in silence. But now, her tears were like a broken necklace, scattering everywhere. I panicked. I tapped her leg gently with my paw. Are you okay? I wanted to ask, but only a tiny squeak came out. Serena couldn’t hold it back anymore. She wailed. Overwhelming grief seemed to drown her. She clutched her chest like it physically hurt, her voice hoarse. “Mom, Dad… did you really not want me anymore? “Did you really have the heart to leave me here all alone…” A kitten doesn’t understand complex human emotions. But I felt a sour, aching feeling in my chest that I couldn’t block out. I frantically tried to wipe her tears with my paw, but my sooty paws just made her face dirtier. She looked like a little painted cat herself. This wouldn’t do. Serena loved being pretty. If she saw I made her dirty, she’d be even sadder. I scrambled to dig into her pocket where she kept tissues. Stupid claws, grab it! Can’t you see she’s flooding the place? Serena finally noticed my struggle. Through the smoke, she saw me frantically trying to fish out a packet of tissues. She broke down even harder. “Dumpling… Dumpling, I only have you left.” She scooped me into her arms, burying her face in my fur so hard I couldn’t breathe. “Meow—” Okay, okay. I’m not leaving. Mom and Dad don’t want you, but Cat wants you. Don’t cry anymore, okay? Seeming to understand me, Serena’s sobs quieted down. Suddenly, the door creaked open behind us. “Holy sh*t!” The neighbor girl stood there, eyes wide. She looked at the wrecked room, then at our two soot-blackened faces, and asked the ultimate question: “Did you guys borrow a lighter to bomb the place?” 04 The neighbor girl—let’s call her Roxy—was actually really nice. Seeing our house was uninhabitable for the night, she let us shower at her place. She skillfully cooked a meal using the meat and veggies Serena brought. I even got a small bowl. So tasty! It wasn’t fancy pâté, but it had soul. Full and warm, I started to get sleepy. Before I drifted off, I heard Roxy asking Serena about her plans. “I can only keep you for one night. Tomorrow, you gotta figure it out.” Serena nodded grimly. I didn’t hear the rest. Too sleepy. I stuck my butt in the air and sank into dreamland. … When I woke up, I found myself on a bumpy truck. My cat brain snapped awake. I looked around. Serena was holding me. Good. Serena stroked my fur. “Dumpling, don’t be scared. This truck is taking fruit to the city. We caught a ride.” She looked unwell. Probably because she’d never ridden in such a rough vehicle. Her brow was furrowed tight. To distract her, I exposed my belly for rubs. Usually, this made Serena squeal with joy and bury her face in my fluff. But this time, her eyes held an indescribable sadness. Like she was saying goodbye. Once in the city, the driver dropped us off. Serena held me and waited for a long time until the person she contacted arrived— Preston. Preston was Serena’s ex-fiancé. They were a perfect match and had been in love for years. But after the fake heiress scandal, he immediately became the fiancé of the real daughter, Bella. “Serena.” Preston rushed over. “Sorry, I was just finishing the engagement ceremony with Bella. I’m late.” Serena froze. That engagement ceremony was supposed to be hers. She didn’t expect Preston to accept the swap so quickly. He had even completed the ceremony smoothly. Serena held back her tears, steadied herself, and spoke: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you, but—” She lifted me up, reluctantly rubbing my head. “Dumpling is used to the good life. I can’t bear to make her live in the country with me. Can you… please take care of her?” What? My eyes widened. My gold-digger DNA told me Preston was rich, meaning luxury awaited. But the thought of leaving Serena made my chest hurt. And… I promised her yesterday I wouldn’t leave. “Meow!” I growled in protest. But the two humans didn’t understand. Preston crossed his arms, scanning Serena from head to toe with a sleazy smile. “I can.” Serena sighed in relief. Then Preston continued: “I can keep the cat. I can keep you, too.” Serena’s expression changed. “I don’t need that. You’re engaged…” “That’s just a business marriage.” Preston waved his hand dismissively. “Serena, we have years of history. How could I just let that go? The one I love is still you.” “You mean…” Preston smirked. “Be my mistress. I can guarantee you a high-quality life. What do you say?” What do I say?! I say catch these paws! I was furious. I couldn’t take it anymore. I launched myself from Serena’s arms! I executed the Secret Art of the Cat: The Nutcracker. Aiming straight for Preston’s… sensitive area. “ARGH!” Preston let out a howl of agony, clutching his crotch, glaring at me with pure hatred. “Damn cat! I’ll kill you!” His eyes were murderous as he stumbled toward me. Serena grabbed me and ran. Luckily, Preston was in too much pain to chase us far. He gritted his teeth and shouted after us: “Serena Hale! You just wait! One day you’ll be kneeling, begging me to take you back!”

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1 Getting off my late-night shift, I treated a runaway kid to a cup of instant ramen. The girl didn’t have a dime to her name, but she was all bravado, insisting that once she was back home, she’d set me up with her older sister. I mumbled a refusal through a mouthful of noodles, telling her there was someone I still couldn’t get over. She wasn’t having it. She claimed I just hadn’t tasted the good stuff yet—that there was no woman on earth better than her sister. That got my back up. In a fit of pique, I pulled up my ex-girlfriend’s Wikipedia page and shoved the phone in her face. The kid’s expression shifted strangely as she scanned the screen, then her eyes flicked back up to me. “Bro-in-law?” … The scalding broth burned my tongue, and I hissed in pain, not quite catching what she’d said. I tilted my head, looking at the girl whose cheeks were puffed out with food. “What was that?” She chewed hard a couple of times, then propped her chin on her hand, her eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. Her voice was laced with disbelief. “You’re telling me… this Sophia Laurent… is your ex-girlfriend?” I let out a smug little humph and snatched my phone back, waving it at her. “That’s right. What do you think? Told you your sister couldn’t possibly compare.” The kid’s face twisted into an even stranger expression, her lips twitching like she was about to have a seizure. I eyed her cautiously, subtly sliding my cup of ramen a little further away from her. I’d barely moved it an inch when two slender fingers caught the edge of the cup. My head snapped around. A face so familiar it made my heart stop was suddenly inches from mine. For a split second, I almost believed the woman from my memories was really here. But the illusion shattered the moment the girl’s young, high-pitched voice broke the silence. “Hey, so… how’d you and your ex break up?” My eyelid twitched. I turned away, unable to look at that miniature version of her face any longer. “You’re a kid. Don’t be so nosy about grown-up stuff.” Five years since the breakup, and I still had zero defense against anyone who looked even remotely like Sophia. Earlier that night, I’d been wrapping my coat tighter, about to hail a cab after my shift. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure huddled on the curb. Under the hazy yellow streetlights, her profile glowed like porcelain, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed, over and over. I practically stumbled out of the cab I’d just opened, tripping over my own feet as I rushed toward her. “Soph—” The name died in my throat the second the small girl looked up. It wasn’t her. I’d mistaken someone for her again. The girl, a good head shorter than me, stared up with wary eyes, though her tone was polite. “Mister, can I help you?” Just then, an embarrassed gurgle echoed in the cold night air. I forced a tight smile, pulled out my work ID and driver’s license, and slapped them into her palm before pointing to a convenience store down the street. “Call me Liam. And it’s my good deed for the day. I’m buying you something to eat. You in?” And that’s how I ended up with this little chatterbox sitting next to me. “Hey, Liam! C’mon!” “Just tell me! Why did you two really break up?” “Think of it as your second good deed. Satisfy the burning curiosity of a girl in the prime of her youth.” I spun the plastic fork in my hand, failing miserably to spear the last slippery fish cake in my cup. “There’s nothing to tell. Sometimes things just don’t work out, and you go your separate ways. That’s all.” She let out a skeptical “Tch.” “There’s always a reason things don’t work out.” “I know! It must have been the evil queen—” She cut herself off, clearing her throat awkwardly as I shot her a confused look. “I mean, in these kinds of princess-and-the-pauper stories, there’s always an evil queen, right?” “Liam, did you break up because her mom came to see you?” “Did she hand you a fifty-million-dollar check?” The kid’s wild imagination made me laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you.” “It was a mutual breakup. Peaceful.” Truth be told, during the three years I was with Sophia, I lived in a constant state of anxiety, waiting for her family to show up at my door. I’d imagined all sorts of scenarios: being handed a fat check, being dragged to some lavish club to be shown just how wide the gap between our worlds was. But in the five years since we parted, I never once met a single member of Sophia’s family. Even when Sophia broke up with me, it was just… quiet. We calmly finished a cup of ramen at a convenience store, walked out the door, and went in opposite directions without looking back. Our story began like the cheesiest of fairy tales. Back then, I was an intern at a soul-crushing tech giant, basically a walking zombie. Sophia had just returned to the States, launching a startup with a few friends, navigating a gauntlet of boozy client meetings and networking events. Three in the morning in New York City. A drunk-as-a-skunk Sophia was leaning against the railing by the river, letting the wind sober her up. I thought she was about to jump. I offered her a pre-packaged sandwich from a 7-Eleven. The moment her eyes met mine, I knew I’d made a ridiculous mistake. A person like her would never do something that foolish. I started to pull the sandwich back, mortified and ready to bolt. But then she let out a soft laugh and plucked it from my hand. “Thanks. My stomach was killing me.” That was the first time I saw Sophia Laurent. She was in a sharp power suit, her eyes glistening from the alcohol, but her gaze felt like a cool evening breeze off the water. And just like that, through a bizarre twist of fate, we exchanged numbers. She was always swamped, but she’d patiently listen to me rant about my boss and my dead-end job. I was busy too, but I always found time in my chaotic schedule to think about her. I thought we were just two kindred spirits, fellow wage slaves drowning in the corporate grind. It was only later that I learned our worlds were separated by an uncrossable chasm. It happened one night when my boss dragged me, the token intern, to a dinner with a bunch of lecherous old suits. When a hand landed on my ass and gave it a squeeze, I reacted on instinct. I threw my drink in the guy’s face and drove my elbow hard into his chest. The scene descended into chaos. My boss threatened my full-time offer, demanding I apologize by chugging a bottle of red wine. The creep I’d hit was screaming that he’d have me thrown in jail. Face grim, I called the cops. In the middle of the mess, I managed to answer a call from Sophia. She arrived before the police did. She stood at the entrance of the private dining room, flanked by a group of serious-looking men, and gave me a casual little wave. “A bunch of old predators playing entrapment games with a kid fresh out of college,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Have you no shame?” “You like playing with men’s asses so much? Maybe I should get some people to give you a real good time.” The once-raucous room fell silent. I instinctively glanced at the investor who’d been screaming for compensation. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with pure terror as he stared at Sophia. That was the first time I got a real glimpse of the world she inhabited. But I was twenty-two then. I still believed love could move mountains. I dove headfirst into the river that was Sophia Laurent, armed with nothing but reckless courage. And because of that, I let myself feel so many things I never should have. The year we broke up, we were still in love. But we were exhausted by it. She’d turned down an arranged match for me. And as a result, the company she had poured her heart and soul into was destroyed. The day it was officially liquidated, I went to her office to find her. The once-bustling floor was eerily empty. There was only Sophia, standing alone before the floor-to-ceiling windows. I took a deep breath, walked up, and wrapped my arms around her from behind. She turned and collapsed into my embrace, holding me so tightly her voice was muffled and raw. “Liam… I might have nothing left after this. Are you going to regret it?” I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, then forced a lighthearted tone as I pulled back to squeeze her cheeks. “Whoever regrets it is a loser.” But I never imagined the rules of her world were so much crueler than I thought. A complete and total industry blacklist. She was so thoroughly shut out that the only job she could find was waiting tables at a stuffy French restaurant. I went to see her there. She was swimming in an ill-fitting uniform, navigating the maze of tables with a heavy tray. The hands that once flew across a keyboard now struggled to balance scalding hot plates. It was the dead of winter, the coldest it had been in years. Her hands were raw and swollen with chilblains, a painful mix of red and purple. No matter how much ointment I applied, they wouldn’t heal. I stared at those hands, my voice cracking. “Sophia, I can support you. I’ll work three jobs, four jobs, whatever it takes.” I buried my face in her stomach, desperate to hide my tears. “My Sophia… my Sophia is supposed to be the proudest woman in the world. She deserves the best of everything…” “Not this… she shouldn’t be like this…” A hand stroked my hair, again and again. Sophia’s voice trembled. “It’s okay. This will pass.” But her strength only made my own pain sharper. So sharp I couldn’t sleep for nights on end. Until one afternoon, her childhood friend found me. He was dressed in a simple black overcoat, not the arrogant rich kid I’d pictured, but more like a model straight out of a fashion magazine. “I’m not here to steal her from you,” he said, getting straight to the point. He slid his phone across the table to me. “I just think you should see who she was meant to be.” I took the phone. On the screen, a younger, brighter Sophia stood on an auditorium stage. She was in a white dress, her eyes shining as she passionately described her vision for the future. The proud, brilliant woman in the video and the woman with chilblains on her hands were two different people. Her friend’s voice was gentle, but his eyes held a calm, piercing pity. “She was meant to change the world, Liam. Not be changed by it.” He was tactful, saying no more. But watching the radiant Sophia in the video, I suddenly understood. Love can’t move mountains. Not all of them. There were some ladders I could never climb, and I couldn’t be selfish enough to drag the moon from the heavens down into the dust with me. I could shoulder any hardship myself, but I couldn’t stand by and watch the light in my Sophia get extinguished by life. I walked home that day, every step heavy with tears. When I opened the door, Sophia was kneeling by the window, watering a half-dead spider plant. The setting sun streamed through the dusty glass, stretching her shadow long across the floor. I just stood there in the doorway, watching her for a long, long time. As if trying to memorize a lifetime’s worth of her. But then she turned and smiled at me. “By next spring, it should finally flower.” Hiding in the shadows of the doorway, I spoke softly. “Sophia… maybe we should just… let this go.” The watering can in her hand froze mid-air. She set it down gently. There were no questions, no arguments. She just looked at me, her gaze steady. Then she walked over and raised a hand to my face. “This is the first time you’ve ever let me see you cry.” “Liam… am I making you this unhappy? So unhappy you can’t stand it anymore?” “Can’t we just try a little longer?” Every ounce of my strength went into fighting the urge to pull her into my arms. I didn’t even have the energy to shake my head. After a long silence, Sophia’s hand slid from my cheek. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “Okay. I’ll let you go.” I leaned against the doorframe, covering my eyes with my hand, sobbing too hard to form a single word. After that, Sophia became the moon in the sky once more. Her face was a regular feature on the covers of business magazines. I never saw her again. A sigh broke through my thoughts, right next to my ear. “Dude, a grown man crying like that is seriously weird.” I snapped back to reality, turning my head away in embarrassment to wipe my eyes. “Whose fault is that? It’s all ancient history, and you just had to make me dig it all up.” The girl, Chloe, pouted, her amber eyes darting around before she suddenly leaned in close. “Hey, Liam. Could you call my sister for me?” I looked at her, confused. She grinned, revealing two small canine teeth, her tone shamelessly righteous. “I regret running away. Call her and tell her to come pick me up.” I dialed the number. Someone picked up almost immediately, but the sound was punctuated by a few coughs. The familiar timbre of that voice made my hand tremble. But Chloe snatched the phone away. “Sis! Sis! I was wrong! Come get me, please!” There was a moment of silence on the other end, just the sound of slightly labored breathing, then a response. “Whose phone are you using?” The phone was shoved back into my hand. I automatically said, “Hello?” This time, the silence stretched even longer. It was followed by a few more suppressed coughs, then the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. “Wait for me. I’ll be there in half an hour.” The line went dead, but I stood there, stunned, for a long time. Then my phone started vibrating. A message from my boss in the work group chat, demanding a file immediately. That tiny, strange feeling in my heart was instantly forgotten. I grabbed my coat and started to leave. But Chloe, who was now happily picking out snacks, blocked my path, letting out a theatrical wail. “Liam! Don’t go! Wait for my sister to get here!” I kept my head down, replying to the messages as I fished a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and pressed it into her hand. “I can’t, I really have to go. You just eat and wait for your sister, okay?” With that, I jogged out of the convenience store. I walked quickly towards my office building, my eyes glued to my phone as I dealt with the work emergency. Just then, a white Bentley turned onto the street, cruising slowly. The headlights made me look up instinctively. Strange. A car that understated and luxurious had a simple, slightly crooked drawing of a sunflower on the side. My feet suddenly felt heavy. When we were together, I’d spent most of my savings on a luxury bracelet for Sophia. Tucked inside the gift box, I’d cringe-inducingly placed a small card. It was blank, except for my drawing of a sunflower. Sophia had asked me what the flower meant. I’d turned red and refused to tell her. She studied that card in front of me for three whole days. Finally, worn down, I’d leaned in and whispered in her ear: “You’re my sun. You’re the most precious thing in the world to me.” She’d frozen for a second, then stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Idiot.” But the reality was, she was born a sun. She didn’t need the admiration of a weed like me to shine. We had just briefly crossed paths in the vast expanse of time. Then the sun returned to its rightful place in the sky, and I returned to my roots in the dirt.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386215”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel