The company next door was poaching, their main selling point a salary that was perpetually one hundred dollars higher than whatever I was paying. The signing bonus? An all-expenses-paid luxury travel package to Southeast Asia. My long-time employees were in an uproar, all of them threatening to jump ship. I pleaded with them, trying to explain that this was a classic recruitment scam. I even dug into my own pocket to give a few of my most senior staff a raise to appease them. It worked, for a while. Then, a month later, my intern posted a picture from a tropical beach. The caption read: So grateful that other company didn’t hire me. Now I get to enjoy this tropical paradise for free! The employees who’d stayed behind turned on me, calling me a manipulative bitch, blaming me for costing them a free vacation. They lured me to the factory floor. They deliberately guided me onto a loose metal plate, sending me plummeting into the roaring industrial furnace below. “If it weren’t for you, we’d be on a beach right now!” “You greedy monster! You were just scared you’d have no one left to slave away for you! Rot in hell!” I was burned alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my employees were clamoring to quit. … “Ms. Warren, we’re resigning!” The office door flew open, and a stampede of familiar faces surged toward my desk. Eagerness was written all over every single one of them. Hannah Miller, the intern, led the charge. “Ms. Warren, the company next door is hiring! And they’re paying a full hundred dollars more a month than you are!” Her expression was a caricature of playful defiance. A violent shudder wracked my body. Only then, feeling the cool draft from the AC vent, did I realize I had been reborn. I was back. “Well, Ms. Warren? Are you going to say yes or no?” Hannah pressed, her voice edged with impatience, clearly annoyed at being ignored. My gaze slowly shifted back to her. Hannah had joined the company as an intern a month ago. In an era where everyone in the workforce called themselves a corporate drone, she was a relentless ray of sunshine. Her energy had quickly infected the whole dreary office. Everyone, young and old, adored her. And it was from her that the news of the job next door, and the idea to stage a mass walkout, had originated. “Why?” My voice trembled as I forced the word out. “Just for a hundred dollars?” My eyes scanned the faces of the veteran employees standing behind her. Most of them had been with me since the very beginning, sticking by me even when the company nearly went under. In my past life, I’d been desperate to keep them. But this time, I needed to know. Why was a measly hundred dollars enough for them to abandon a place they’d dedicated decades of their lives to? Hannah scoffed, her lips curling in disdain. “You’re the boss, Ms. Warren. Of course you wouldn’t understand the needs of us working stiffs.” “What do you mean, a ‘measly’ hundred dollars?” “With an extra hundred a month, every single one of us could afford a decent meal out, you know? Boost our happiness!” She gestured out the window towards the neighboring building. “And they’re giving a Southeast Asia travel package just for signing on!” “This company is all work, work, work. Do you have any idea how many of your employees have their personal lives completely ignored?” “Only a company that’s actually human-centric deserves the hard work of the people standing behind me!” Hannah’s voice was loud, passionate, and it ignited a fire in the employees behind her. “Yeah, Ms. Warren! I’ve been slaving away for you for over a decade, and you’ve never once taken us on a company trip!” one of them yelled. “But these guys give you a vacation to Southeast Asia right off the bat! Don’t you see how pathetic that makes you look?” “Exactly! And what about raises? I’ve asked so many times, and you wouldn’t even bump me a hundred bucks!” “If another company is willing to pay it, why shouldn’t we go?” It was true, I never organized company-wide retreats. But I never shorted them on their two weeks of paid vacation or the thousands of dollars in travel stipends they received every year. Salaries were based on position. You got a raise when you got a promotion. Everyone was already at the top of their pay grade for their current roles. How much more could I add? What really stunned me, though, was that the first to complain were Chris and Kate. Chris was my college buddy. Back then, his family was dirt poor, living in a dilapidated shack, unable to scrape together a thousand dollars. When we started the company, I fronted his entire buy-in, didn’t ask for a cent. When he got married, I gave him a fifty-thousand-dollar check as a wedding gift so he and his wife could have a two-week honeymoon. And Kate… last year, her parents got seriously ill, wiping out their life savings. Without a second thought, I pulled twenty grand out of my own account and gave it to her. I told her to use it, pay me back whenever she could, even pay back less if she needed to. I thought my conscience was clear with them. But now, led by this intern, they were ready to cut me loose for a hundred bucks. I couldn’t stop the question from spilling out. “After everything… how can you do this to me?” Chris’s face hardened. He clenched his fists. “You’ve got it backward, Vera. It’s what you’ve done to us!” “All these years, I’ve busted my ass for you, brought in massive profits. And what do I get? You made me work through the Fourth of July weekend, ruining the vacation my wife and I had planned.” That project had come in on a tight deadline. I’d authorized triple pay for the holiday. I asked for volunteers; it was never mandatory. Chris was the first one to raise his hand, his face lit up with excitement. “This is a goldmine! Who wants to deal with holiday crowds anyway? We can save up and take a real vacation with our annual leave!” I looked at him now, my eyes flooding with disappointment. Kate snorted. “He’s right. You’ve forgotten where you came from, Vera.” “That time Hannah and I took a client out? We spent three thousand dollars on dinner, and you refused to let accounting reimburse us! How could you be so cold?” That time, Hannah, the self-proclaimed “newbie,” had ordered a mountain of appetizers and desserts. Not only did they fail to land the deal, but the client almost terminated their existing contract with us. An expense report that large for a failed meeting was a fireable offense. I went to bat for both of them, saved their jobs. The reimbursement was against policy, so I paid the three thousand out of my own pocket to cover for them. With Chris and Kate leading the charge, the floodgates of complaint opened. No company retreats, just money—so impersonal. Working them to the bone—overtime pay couldn’t compensate for the mental toll. Constantly providing afternoon snacks—it was distracting and kept them from doing their work properly… My heart turned to ice, piece by piece. All these years, what I had considered kindness, consideration for my employees… In their eyes, it was just the mark of a heartless boss. Hannah slapped a stack of resignation forms on my desk. “Let’s get this over with, Ms. Warren.” “We’ve got flights to book and hotels to reserve for our trip. We’re on a schedule!” In my past life, my industry instincts had screamed that something was wrong. I had painstakingly explained to them that this was a common recruitment scam. That when they got off that plane, they wouldn’t find a pristine beach, but a human trafficking compound. To smooth things over, I even paid for their salary increases myself. In the end, only a furious Hannah had left the company. But then, two weeks later, she posted those vacation photos. My employees saw red. They were convinced I had deliberately blocked them, afraid I’d have no one left to exploit. And they led me to the factory and pushed me into the furnace. This time, I wasn’t going to waste my breath on these vipers. Watching Hannah, who was now glancing around impatiently, I smiled and picked up the resignation forms. “No problem.” The employees, who had been bracing for a fight, froze. “What? You agree?” I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, my expression one of feigned confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?” “You want to leave. I can’t exactly chain you to your desks.” With the benefits and salary my company offered, I wasn’t worried about finding replacements. It was probably time for some new blood anyway. I lowered my head, preparing to stamp the company seal on each form they handed me. But before the stamp could fall, Hannah’s expression changed. She suddenly snapped, “Wait!” I frowned. “Now what?” “You’re the ones who wanted to quit. I agree, and now you’re changing your minds?” The employees behind her looked just as confused. “Yeah, Hannah, she agreed!” “The sooner we quit, the sooner we can get on that plane. What’s the problem?” With all eyes on her, Hannah picked up a resignation form and scrutinized it. Then she looked at me and sneered. “Ms. Warren, this contract is wrong.” “There’s no severance clause. Where’s our compensation package?” I stared at her for a few seconds, then let out a laugh that was pure disbelief. “Severance is for when the company terminates an employee.” “Given that you’re all resigning en masse, you should be thanking me for not enforcing your non-compete agreements. And you have the audacity to demand severance?” Even Chris looked uncomfortable. “Hannah, maybe we should just drop it?” But Hannah stood her ground, chest puffed out righteously. “Why did we resign in the first place?” “It’s because the company benefits are subpar! At its core, this is all Ms. Warren’s fault. We’re the victims here, so why can’t we demand compensation?” “With a proper severance package, we’d each get tens of thousands of dollars! That’s what we’re owed! It’s compensation for our suffering!” Her words hung in the air, and the expression on every face in the room shifted. Tens of thousands of dollars. A subtle, greedy tension began to ripple through the crowd. Kate spoke up, her voice ringing with entitlement. “Ms. Warren, we’ve made you a lot of money over the years. A little compensation isn’t too much to ask, is it?” With someone taking the lead, the chorus began. “Yeah, we deserve it!” “You forced us into this! You owe us!” My gaze swept over each person in the office, one by one. Then I pushed the stack of resignation forms back across my desk. My voice was ice. “I may be reasonable, but I’m not a doormat.” “As for severance? Don’t even think about it.” The words had barely left my mouth when a wave of resentful, venomous glares washed over me. So many years of genuine care had cultivated nothing but a pack of insatiable, ungrateful wolves. Seeing my resolve, Hannah nodded, a strange, twisted smile on her face. “Fine, Ms. Warren. We’ll see about that.” She delivered her threat and led the employees out. I didn’t give it another thought. But the next morning, my assistant burst into my office, frantic. “Ms. Warren, it’s bad!” “The company is getting destroyed online! We’re trending for all the wrong reasons!” I pulled up our company’s social media accounts. The comments section was a toxic wasteland. Greedy capitalist. Bitch. Old hag. The insults were everywhere. “What happened?” I demanded, my brow furrowed. It wasn’t until my assistant showed me her phone that I understood. Hannah had organized a live stream with the employees’ families to publicly accuse me of corporate malpractice. Chris’s wife was the first to appear, her voice shrill and piercing. “The day I went into labor was a Saturday! My husband was supposed to be home, but that witch, Warren, deliberately called him in to work overtime! He missed the birth of his own child!” “Holiday overtime, overnight shifts—it never ended!” “I was afraid to speak up before, afraid she’d retaliate against my husband. But now she’s gone too far! She won’t even give him his rightful severance pay!” She held up screenshots of my texts asking Chris to work. The internet erupted in a firestorm of righteous fury. “Have some damn shame!” “We have to boycott this monster! We can’t let her get away with this!” I was shaking with rage. Yes, I had asked Chris to work that day. Because we had a critical system failure. The moment it was fixed, I personally drove him to the hospital. Not only did he make it in time for the birth, but I also gave them a two-thousand-dollar cash gift as an apology. At the time, his wife couldn’t stop smiling, calling me the most conscientious boss she’d ever heard of. Next up were Kate’s parents, two elderly people weeping into the camera. “When we got sick, that heartless capitalist found out. And because she knew our daughter needed the money and couldn’t afford to quit, she exploited her relentlessly!” “She docked her pay, sent her on endless business trips!” “Now our daughter has finally escaped that hellhole, and she refuses to pay what she owes! How can someone so evil exist in this world?” Netizens immediately rallied to their cause, vowing to get justice for the poor old couple. Kate’s paystub was indeed missing one month’s salary. Because that was the month I had fronted the twenty thousand dollars for their medical bills. I still remembered how happily they had smiled when I visited them in the hospital, my arms full of fruit and supplements. My assistant cried out again. “Ms. Warren, it’s worse! Our retail stores… they’re being vandalized!” She showed me the photos. The glass doors were shattered. The walls were covered in spray paint. Scrawled on the ground in black marker were curses directed at me. Capitalist pig, drop dead. Hope your whole family dies in a car crash… The online mob was united. Their one demand was that I pay every single employee their severance. I sat in my office, silent. More than the online vitriol, what truly broke me was the betrayal of the families I had helped. All my support, all my generosity… it meant nothing in the face of greed. The phone rang. “Vera, I had no idea you were this kind of person. This year’s contract is cancelled.” One call after another. Every single one was a partner pulling their business. My eyes drifted back to the screen. Hannah was leading the charge, orchestrating a full-scale assault on my company. They were calling all my clients and partners. Some screamed obscenities, others spread vicious lies. They were systematically destroying every single deal we had in the pipeline. The internet cheered them on. “That’s how you deal with scum like her! Fight fire with fire!” “Yes! Strength in numbers! Post the phone numbers, we’ll all help!” My assistant’s voice trembled. “Ms. Warren, we can’t fight public opinion.” “This company is your life’s work. Losing some money is better than going bankrupt!” I sat in my office all night. The next morning, I released a statement. “The severance applications have been approved.” “Payment will be disbursed in one month, following a final review.” The internet exploded with celebration. Everyone was patting themselves on the back for taking down the evil capitalist.

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The day of my wedding, my bride dove into a lake, risking her own life to save the lame Golden Retriever she’d brought as part of her dowry. When I heard, I called the whole thing off, right there at the altar. Her face was a mask of disbelief. “Over a dog?” I just pushed the annulment papers towards her. “Yes. Over a dog.” My new mother-in-law pointed a trembling finger in my face, her voice shrill. “A grown man, jealous of a dog? It would have been a curse for my daughter to marry you!” My own father stormed onto the stage and punched me squarely in the jaw. “You ungrateful whelp! If you go through with this today, you’re no son of mine!” My bride, Seraphina, was shaking with rage. She ripped the papers to shreds. “Daniel, don’t you dare pull this stunt on our wedding day.” I watched her scoop the Golden Retriever into her arms and rush towards the vet’s tent we’d set up, and a cold smile touched my lips. I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant. “Alex, it’s time. Release everything.” “I’m ready for the divorce.” 1. “Daniel, say that again?” My fiancée, Seraphina Raymont, stared at me, her eyes wide with shock. My voice was flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” It was supposed to be the moment we exchanged rings, the pinnacle of the ceremony. Instead, I’d placed the platinum band back in its velvet box and demanded an end to our marriage before it had even legally begun. The officiant, caught completely off-guard, was still trying to salvage the situation with a forced smile, muttering something about a bad joke. But I simply pulled the freshly signed annulment papers from my jacket pocket. “Sign it, Seraphina. Let’s end this with some dignity.” The hand she reached for the document was shaking. “Why?” “Is it really because I saved Milo? He’s just a dog.” “Yes. That’s right.” I frowned, a flicker of impatience crossing my face. “Just sign it. Let’s not make this uglier than it has to be.” “Daniel, I know our marriage was arranged when we were children, but it was never just a business deal! We have a decade of history, we grew up together! You’re throwing that all away?” “For a reason this… this insane? What about all the years I gave you?” I turned my head, too tired to even look at her. Below the stage, the guests erupted in a chorus of whispers. “Classic high-society drama. ‘Boyd Heir Calls Off Wedding Over a Dog?’ That’ll be tomorrow’s headline. What a joke.” “I feel so bad for Seraphina. On her wedding day, of all days, to be humiliated for such a ridiculous reason?” “Daniel Boyd must have someone on the side. This is just a pathetic excuse to dump her, and he had to do it publicly to twist the knife.” Seraphina’s whole body was trembling, a storm of tears gathering in her eyes. Her mother, unable to contain herself any longer, rushed the stage and started hammering her fists against my chest. “What did my daughter ever do to you to deserve this humiliation? It’s a dog! An animal!” “A grown man, jealous of an animal?” I gently pushed her away and stepped towards Seraphina. We had been together for ten years. From school uniforms to this wedding dress. In all that time, I had never made her this miserable. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was sobbing too hard to speak, her knuckles white as she clutched the torn pieces of the annulment papers. Her gaze was fixed on the signature I’d written. “Tell me why,” she choked out. “Is something wrong? Tell me, Daniel. We promised we’d face everything together.” When I remained silent, her grief morphed into a new wave of anger. She tore the papers into smaller and smaller pieces. “Daniel, stop this madness. It’s our wedding day.” “I don’t agree. You’re not divorcing me!” I didn’t waste another look on her. I simply turned and said, “Then I’ll see you in court.” 2. As I started to walk away, my father lunged onto the stage and grabbed me by the collar. “Are you insane? You’re ending your marriage on your wedding day?” My mother was right behind him, her hand on my arm. “Daniel, honey, we’ve known Seraphina since she was a little girl. She’s the perfect daughter-in-law. Don’t you remember when you were kids, you promised you’d marry each other?” “Think of your history, son. Don’t be impulsive. Just finish the ceremony. If Seraphina is upset, I’ll talk to her.” My mother waited, her eyes pleading for a sign of regret. She was sorely disappointed. My expression remained a mask of indifference. “I don’t want to be married anymore. So I’m getting a divorce.” My flippant, callous words ignited the crowd’s anger. “Who the hell does Daniel Boyd think he is? ‘I don’t want to be married anymore.’ Does he think he’s some kind of king?” “Poor Seraphina Raymont. To be insulted like this… what a tragedy.” My father’s face went purple with rage. He backhanded me across the face, the crack echoing through the silent venue. Then he shoved me to my knees in front of Seraphina. “Apologize, you worthless piece of trash.” “You are getting married today, whether you like it or not.” Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. The dashing groom was now a pathetic, beaten mess. Seraphina sobbed. “Daniel… is it because of Milo? Are you angry at him? Do you hate him?” “Milo’s been with me since he was a puppy. He’s my companion, my family. There was a time… a dark time… when he was the only one there for me. In my heart, you are my husband, but Milo is like my child. Why can’t you accept him?” “To be divorced over a dog… how am I supposed to show my face in this city ever again?” Through all her tearful accusations, I said nothing. My silence only enraged my father further. He started kicking me, his dress shoes slamming into my ribs. “If you don’t marry her today, you’re no son of mine!” I clenched my jaw, refusing to even grunt in pain. Seeing that force wasn’t working, my father softened his tone. “Son, I know you. You’ve always been a strong, proud man. You wouldn’t really hold a grudge against a dog.” “Just tell us what’s really going on. We can help you. Don’t do this to Seraphina.” The entire hall held its breath, waiting for my answer. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I don’t want her. Anyone who does is welcome to her.” The words were a lit match in a room full of gasoline. The venue exploded. Seraphina collapsed against my mother, her body wracked with sobs. “Daniel, you can fall out of love with me. You can divorce me. But you can’t insult me, you can’t trample on my dignity like this.” “With those words, you’ve burned everything we ever had to the ground. My heart… it’s dead, Daniel.” “You’re a heartless, scumbag!” My mother held Seraphina tight, her eyes shooting daggers of disappointment at me. My father was winding up for another punch, his face crimson. But I just glanced at Seraphina. Her? Talking to me about love? What a joke. My eyes flickered to the Golden Retriever in the corner. I quickly made a call. “Mr. Boyd, everything you requested is ready. We’re just waiting for the final piece.” “Hurry. I’m running out of time.” 3. After hanging up, I watched Seraphina’s lonely figure as she carried the Golden Retriever away. My mother’s gaze was filled with disappointment. My father’s eyes were blazing with fury. “Daniel, I am disowning you. From this day forward, you are no longer a part of the Boyd family.” “We have no place for a monster like you!” With that, he took my mother’s arm and stormed off. The lavish wedding of the year ended as a farcical train wreck. But the paparazzi smelled blood. The next day, the headline “Boyd Heir Divorces Bride at Altar Over a Dog” went viral. Someone had secretly filmed the entire fiasco. The video of my arrogant, cruel expression as I insulted Seraphina was everywhere. People made memes of my face, their captions dripping with venom. “What a piece of work. A grown man jealous of a dog? Humiliating his bride like that? He’s human garbage.” “Seraphina was crying so hard, she looked so beautiful and broken. And Daniel Boyd did that to her? Is he even human?” “That dog is her emotional support animal! It’s like family! Daniel has a problem with a dog? Pathetic.” My home address and office location were doxxed. Every night, someone would splash paint on my front door. The Boyd Corporation stock plummeted overnight. My father immediately held a press conference, officially announcing that he had disowned me. Relatives and friends blocked my number and unfriended me on social media, terrified of being associated with me. I became a social pariah, the man everyone loved to hate. And me? I was lounging in my apartment, watching television. On the screen, a fragile but defiant Seraphina was speaking to a horde of reporters. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she was still defending me. “Please, believe me, Daniel isn’t that kind of person. I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding.” “And we are not getting a divorce. We promised each other a lifetime together.” As microphones were shoved in her face, Seraphina never wavered in her support for me. “Daniel is just… a little unhappy with my dog, Milo. He’s not a dog person. But Milo is my family, he will be with me my entire life. We will not divorce. I believe that he loves me, and he can learn to accept Milo.” Her words earned a round of applause from the reporters. And made me look like even more of a villain. I watched for a while, amused, then dialed her number. She answered, her voice trembling with excitement. “Daniel! You called! Have you come to your senses? Are you done with this nonsense? I don’t blame you for what happened at the wedding. We can pick another date, have another ceremony.” I let her ramble on, then let out a soft chuckle. “You’re dreaming. I was just calling to remind you not to be late for our court date tomorrow.” There was a dead silence. I could almost feel her body stiffen through the phone. She was on speakerphone; the entire press corps heard my cold, merciless words. The public outcry against me intensified. “Poor Seraphina. She’s being so humble, so forgiving, and that scumbag is still treating her like dirt.” “Down with Daniel Boyd! Ten years of love, destroyed by a dog. What kind of man is that? He’s a monster!” Seraphina’s voice was broken by sobs. “Daniel… are we really… getting a divorce?” I laughed, my voice clear and firm. “Of course.” “And not only are we getting a divorce, I’m revoking every share and dissolving every business partnership that my name has ever granted you.” “From now on, we go our separate ways.” 4. Seraphina let out a choked sob and collapsed. The next morning, as soon as I stepped out of my car at the courthouse, a swarm of paparazzi descended on me, shoving microphones in my face. “Mr. Boyd, can you tell us why you’re divorcing your wife simply because she risked her life to save a dog?” “An inside source claims you’ve been having an affair for years, and the dog is just an excuse. Is that true?” “Do you have any respect for women? Do you realize how cruel your actions were? Are you a sociopath?” I ignored them, my face a blank mask as I walked forward. Seraphina was there, dressed in a plain, simple outfit, her eyes still puffy from crying. When she saw me, her voice was a raw whisper. “Daniel…” I acted as if I hadn’t heard her and took my seat at the plaintiff’s table. When the proceedings began, I stated my case simply. “I, Daniel Boyd, am filing to dissolve my marriage to Seraphina Raymont.” “State your reasons,” the judge said. Before I could answer, Seraphina cried out, “Daniel, why are you doing this? We were so in love!” “Was it because I saved Milo’s life? He’s just a dog! If it were you, I would have saved you too! Why?” She slammed her fists on the table, a picture of tragic, desperate grief. The courtroom was filled with murmurs of sympathy. I just smiled faintly. “Yes. It’s because of your dog. It’s that simple.” She stood up, stunned into silence. “It’s… it’s really because of Milo?” “That… what kind of reason is that? Because of a dog?” In the gallery, Seraphina’s mother slammed her hand down on the bench. “Because of a Golden Retriever she’s had for years, you humiliated my daughter at her own wedding! You’re slapping her in the face!” “How did my daughter ever fall for a piece of trash like you?” My father almost fainted from rage. “You ungrateful son! Ruining your life over a dog!” “How could I have raised such an idiot?” The crowd was riled up. “The sole heir to the Boyd fortune, throws away his marriage and his reputation because he’s jealous of a dog. He really is an idiot.” “He’s a scumbag! Worse than an animal!” “And to think Seraphina was so devoted to him. All for nothing. What a joke.” The courtroom was in an uproar. Someone from the gallery hurled an egg. It splattered across my face, dripping yolk down my expensive suit, leaving me looking like a pathetic clown. The judge frowned. “This reason is not sufficient grounds for divorce. Do you have any other evidence?” I glanced at my phone. Still nothing. I could only shake my head. The judge raised his gavel. “As the plaintiff has provided insufficient evidence, this court finds in favor of the defendant. The petition for divorce is deni—” Was I going to lose? My heart hammered in my chest. Faster, faster, I’m out of time! Before he could finish the sentence, my phone vibrated. I glanced down. The final piece had just fallen into place. The weight in my chest vanished. “Wait! I have more evidence to present!”

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1 For three brutal months, the entire company had been in a death march for Black Friday, and we’d pulled it off. Sales had shattered the ten-million-dollar mark. But at the celebration party, the finance department delivered the gut punch: we were actually $500 million in the red. Just like that, every employee’s bonus was wiped out. My CEO husband, Jeff, however, looked completely unfazed. “The numbers are right,” he explained, a casual wave in his voice. “It was Mary. When she was updating the product listing, she accidentally priced a $3,000 item at $3.” He gently ruffled the hair of the intern standing beside him, Mary Summers, his tone dripping with indulgence. “She’s just a girl. Inexperienced.” Mary seized the opening, wrapping her arms around his and blinking innocently at me. “I’m just a silly girl, Ava. Please don’t be mad.” She snuggled closer to him. “Jeff already said it doesn’t matter if we make a profit. If it makes me happy, then that five hundred million was money well spent!” My blood pressure skyrocketed. I pulled out my phone and fired off a company-wide memo on the spot: 【Effective immediately, by a majority shareholder veto, CEO Jeff Gimpel is terminated.】 【The company will be pursuing legal action against Mary Summers and Jeff Gimpel to recover the full extent of the damages.】 … “Ava Rowan!” Jeff slammed his champagne flute onto the marble floor. It shattered, sending shards of glass skittering across the room. “Who the hell gave you the nerve to send that memo? You think you can fire me?” he roared, his face contorted with rage. “Open your eyes and look around! I’m the goddamn CEO of this company!” I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his, my voice a blade of ice. “I felt like it, so I did. Who you are is irrelevant.” “And it’s not just about firing you,” I added coolly. “You and your little intern owe the company five hundred million dollars.” “You—!” He was so furious his eyes were bloodshot, his finger jabbing the air inches from my face. “Ava, retract that memo right now! For the sake of our marriage, I’ll let this slide!” “Otherwise,” he hissed, “I’ll have you thrown out of this building myself, and you won’t see a single goddamn cent!” The air in the room turned to ice. The employees who had come to celebrate were frozen in shock, too scared to even breathe. Only Mary pouted, her voice a pathetic whimper. “It’s all my fault, I’m so stupid. I must have misread the price.” She tugged at Jeff’s sleeve. “Jeff, just hit me if it makes you feel better. Please don’t fight with Ava…” Jeff’s expression melted instantly. He stroked her hair, his voice softening to a purr. “Silly girl, how could I ever blame you? You’re too adorable. It’s only five hundred million. Think of it as your tuition fee.” Watching them, a wave of nausea churned in my stomach. Mary was Jeff’s childhood friend. I’d always known they were close, but I’d swallowed his bullshit about them being like brother and sister. Now, it was painfully clear. They were just a pair of cheating dogs. I took a deep, steadying breath, forcing down the inferno in my chest. Each word was deliberate. “Jeff, you and Mary will pay back that five hundred million. Every last cent.” “Money, money, money! Is that all you ever think about?” He scowled, his face a mask of disgust. “You have the soul of a cash register. It’s vulgar. Pathetic.” His words were so absurd I almost laughed. He didn’t care about five hundred million dollars? Of course not. He was playing the big shot with my money. And what about our team? The entire company had poured their blood, sweat, and tears into Black Friday for three months. Did their effort mean nothing to him? “Jeff,” I said, a vein throbbing in my temple as I gestured to the anxious employees behind me. “You can insult me all you want, but that money represents every single person’s bonus in this room. Are you really going to let their hard work go up in smoke?” The room erupted. “Yeah! What about our commissions?” “We worked overtime for three months straight! We were counting on that money for the holidays!” “The company can’t just screw us over like this!” Jeff’s face darkened with irritation. “What’s all the noise?” he snapped, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s just a bonus. Look at you all, so pathetic.” He scanned the crowd with contempt, then lifted his chin with an air of magnanimity. “Fine. I’ll cover it. Not only will you get your bonuses, I’ll double them! We’ll just take it out of my year-end dividends.” 2 Instantly, the employees’ faces were plastered with fawning smiles. They scrambled over each other to sing his praises. “Mr. Gimpel, you’re so generous! I knew you wouldn’t let us down!” “See? A company needs a real man like Mr. Gimpel at the helm! Ms. Rowan, with all due respect, you’re just too inexperienced for this!” “Ms. Rowan, why don’t you just apologize to Mr. Gimpel and Ms. Summers? We can all put this behind us.” I stared at the sea of faces that had turned on me in a heartbeat. The cold reality was almost comical. I was fighting for their money, and they wanted me to apologize? What a bunch of thankless snakes. My fists clenched. I turned my gaze back to Jeff, a glacial smile forming on my lips. “What are you even talking about, Jeff? You don’t own a single share in this company. What dividends are you talking about? What money are you going to use to pay anyone, let alone double?” His brow furrowed, his tone dripping with entitlement. “I know I don’t have shares, but your dividends are my dividends, aren’t they?” “It’s all marital property anyway,” he declared. “I’m the man of the house. I decide how we spend our money.” I froze for a second, then let out a sharp, humorless laugh. So, he gets to throw away a fortune, and I’m supposed to foot the bill? I took a deep breath, my voice as cold as a tomb. “Keep dreaming, Jeff. My money has absolutely nothing to do with you.” “We have a prenup,” I stated flatly. “And you cheated. The moment I file for divorce, your debt is your problem, and your problem alone.” The color drained from Jeff’s face. “You’d divorce me over money? Ava, I can’t believe you!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue the point now. “I repeat, you have no dividends. But the money has to be repaid. Should we take it from your personal accounts?” A small, mocking laugh escaped my lips. “Oh, but wait… you don’t have any money in there, do you? Maybe I should just sue. Send you and your little tramp to prison for a few years?” “Ava!” he roared, utterly incensed. “Are you insane? You’d sue me?” Mary stepped forward, her face a mask of indignation. “Ms. Rowan, how could you say that? And… there’s no way Jeff doesn’t have money!” She thrust her hand forward, displaying a massive gemstone ring for all to see, her posture radiating arrogance. “Everyone, look! This was my birthday present from Jeff. This ring alone is worth three hundred million dollars!” Gasps rippled through the crowd. “Three hundred million! Mr. Gimpel is loaded!” “Is that the legendary ‘Heart of the Ocean’? I thought there was only one in the world!” “That’s it! He caused a huge scene at the auction last week to get it for her!” My eyes flickered to the ring, a sarcastic curve to my lips. The real Heart of the Ocean was sitting in my family’s vault. This knock-off Jeff had spent a fortune on was probably worth less than three hundred dollars. And as for Jeff himself? He was a kept man. His entire lifestyle was funded by my family’s trust. One phone call from me, and his bank account would be zeroed out. I sat down, feeling perfectly composed, and locked my eyes on him. “Alright then. If Mr. Gimpel is so magnanimous, he can pay everyone’s bonuses right now. Along with the five hundred million the company lost.” “Fine!” he spat, shooting me a look of pure loathing before turning to the crowd. “Don’t you worry. Your little bonuses are pocket change to me.” He pulled out his phone, and under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, began to process the transfer. A ghost of a smile played on my lips. Because just a few moments ago, I’d had his accounts completely drained. 3 Mary sat down, casting a smug glance in my direction. “Really, Ava, was all this necessary? It’s not like Jeff can’t afford it. You’re just damaging your relationship.” My eyes snapped to her, cold and sharp. “The only thing damaging our relationship is you. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the homewrecker tree.” The smile on Mary’s face froze, then shattered. Her mother had been the other woman, and it was the one thing she couldn’t stand people mentioning. Her features twisted in fury, and she lunged, her hand raised to slap me. I caught her wrist in a grip of iron and flung her to the floor. “You want to hit me? You don’t have the right,” I snarled, dropping into a crouch and grabbing the collar of her dress. “Today, I’m going to find out just how thick your skin really is.” Without another word, I unleashed my fury, one vicious slap after another across her face. Crack! Crack! The sharp sounds echoed in the silent room. Red welts bloomed on Mary’s cheeks. Her shrieks pierced the air, stunning everyone into statues. Jeff was the first to break the spell. He rushed forward, pulling her behind him as if she were a damsel in distress. Mary clung to him, her voice a choked sob. “I’m sorry… Jeff, it’s all my fault… I don’t know what I said to make Ava so angry…” Jeff’s eyes were blazing with fury. “Ava! What gives you the right to hit her? Do you have any idea—” “I’ll hit whoever I want,” I cut him off impatiently, rising to my feet. “Jeff, you were supposed to be paying people. It’s been a while. Did you pay them?” I paused deliberately. “Or could it be… you can’t afford to?” “Hilarious!” he scoffed, as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke. “I make eighty grand a minute. You think I can’t afford this chump change?” An employee immediately pushed his way to the front, his face slick with a sycophantic grin. It was Kevin Miller, a mid-level manager known for being a spineless, opportunistic parasite. “Exactly! Mr. Gimpel spent three hundred million on a ring for Ms. Summers without blinking an eye! Ms. Rowan, you really shouldn’t worry your pretty little head about it!” He turned to Jeff, rubbing his hands together. “Mr. Gimpel, sir, why don’t you transfer my bonus first? You know, just to show certain people what real power looks like.” Jeff nodded, his posture arrogant as he pulled out his phone again. “Fine. Today, you’re the first to get paid.” His fingers danced across the screen. But a second later, they froze. His expression grew darker and darker. Kevin peered at the screen and let out a strangled cry. “Mr. Gimpel… why does your balance say… zero?!” “What? No way! Kevin, you must be seeing things!” Mary leaned in, her face etched with suspicion, but her expression went rigid the moment she saw the screen. After a long moment, a look of realization dawned on her face. “Oh, I know!” she exclaimed. “It must be from when Jeff bought me this ring! The transaction was so large that his account has been temporarily frozen. It’s a security measure.” Jeff, grasping at the lifeline, nodded firmly. “Exactly! What’s the panic? The system will reset in a few days. You’ll all get your money. I won’t short you a dime!” I met his gaze, a slight smile on my face. “Why wait a few days? Everyone’s anxious for their money now. If it’s just a temporary freeze, let’s all go down to the bank. We can do an in-person transfer right away.” 4 “Fine! Who’s afraid of you?” Jeff shot me a withering glare and immediately dialed his phone. “Mr. Davis? I need to make a transfer in the hundreds of millions today. Get everything ready for my arrival.” With that, he hung up and marched out, a procession of hopeful employees trailing behind him like a royal entourage. At the bank, the manager, Mr. Davis, was waiting with his staff lined up, ready to serve us tea and coffee. “Mr. Gimpel, a transfer of this magnitude requires a brief approval process,” he said obsequiously. “What a hassle!” Jeff frowned. “Do I, Jeff Gimpel, really need to go through these formalities?” He lounged on the plush sofa, his gaze drifting out the window to the luxury shopping district across the street. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Mary, how about I take you shopping while we wait? Didn’t you say you wanted that limited-edition handbag?” Mary practically leaped into his arms, her voice syrupy sweet. “Oh, yes! Thank you, Jeff! You always spoil me!” Pleased with himself, Jeff glanced at the eager employees behind him and waved his hand magnanimously. “Everyone, come along! Today, everything is on me!” The bank lobby erupted in cheers. “Mr. Gimpel is the man! A true leader!” “See, Ms. Rowan? I bet you regret how you spoke to him now, don’t you?” I simply sat back and took a sip of my tea, a knowing smile playing on my lips. The real show was just beginning. Seeing my silence, Jeff must have mistaken it for remorse. He looked at me, his tone condescending. “Since you realize you were wrong, I can be forgiving. My card is still frozen, so you can front the money for everyone’s purchases. I’ll pay you back.” I let out a cold, sarcastic laugh. “I’m not as extravagant as you, Mr. Gimpel. I’m just worried you… won’t be able to pay it back.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “How could I not pay it back? As soon as the bank lifts the hold, I’ll pay you back triple. Happy now?” I didn’t even bother to look at him, turning my head away. “Mr. Gimpel! Use my card! I’ve got you!” Kevin Miller scurried forward, his face beaming. “Sir, about that… triple repayment… you’ll remember, right?” “I always keep my word!” Satisfied, Jeff took Kevin’s card and led the stampede into the shopping mall. Every time Mary pointed at a luxury item, Jeff would swipe the card with a dramatic flourish. Before long, Kevin’s card was maxed out. Seeing their chance, other employees eagerly offered up their own credit cards. “Mr. Gimpel, use mine! Spend whatever you want! Just… please remember… triple!” “Don’t be so noisy! This is pocket change!” Jeff waved his hand, buying up merchandise as if he owned the entire mall. The other employees, meanwhile, were grabbing armfuls of designer goods, all waiting for Jeff to pay. Only when every last credit card was declined did Jeff reluctantly lead his followers back to the bank. Mr. Davis rushed over as soon as he saw them. “Mr. Gimpel, the approval has been expedited. I just need your account information.” Jeff handed over his details with an air of unshakeable confidence. But as the minutes ticked by, Mr. Davis’s face grew paler and paler, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He approached Jeff, trembling, his lips moving but no words coming out. Jeff chuckled. “What’s wrong? Did the number of zeros in my account scare you speechless?” Mr. Davis wiped his brow, his voice shaking. “Mr. Gimpel… it’s not that there’s too much money…” “It’s… it’s because your account… it’s completely empty. There’s nothing in it.”

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My dad cleared my entire Black Friday cart. Seeing the hopeful, expectant look in his eyes, waiting for praise, I grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the front door. He stumbled, struggling in confusion. “Lily, what’s wrong with you?” “Aren’t you happy I bought you everything on your list?” From the kitchen, my mom hurried out to see what the commotion was. I ignored his questions, shoved him out the door with all my strength, and slammed the deadbolt shut. His voice, now laced with anger, echoed from the hallway. “Open this door! Why the hell did you lock me out?” 1 “Open up! I said open the door! Tell me what the hell is going on right now!” Mom walked over, a placating smile on her face. “Alright, alright, that’s enough joking around. Let your father in. It’s freezing out there!” She reached for the lock, but I clamped my hand around her wrist. “Don’t you dare,” I said, my voice like ice. “This is my house. If you open that door, you can get out with him.” Her smile froze. She slowly pulled her hand back, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Why? Because he cleared your shopping cart? He was just spending money on you, trying to make you happy!” The pounding on the door softened, replaced by a trembling, pleading voice. “Honey… it’s so cold out here. Please, just let Daddy in?” Mom’s confusion curdled into rage. “Are you insane? He’s your father! You ungrateful brat! After we raised you all these years!” I just stared at her, my face a blank mask. Suddenly, she bolted into the kitchen. When she returned, she was holding a gleaming fruit knife, pressing the blade against her own wrist. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “I’m asking you one last time. Are you going to open this door?” I watched her silently, then turned, took the sharpest cleaver from the knife block, and threw it at her feet with a deafening clang. “Go ahead. This one’s faster.” The echo of the cleaver hitting the floor vibrated through the living room. Mom’s hand went limp, and the fruit knife fell to the ground. She collapsed onto the floor, staring at me as if I were a stranger. Outside, the pounding had stopped. I peered through the peephole. Our next-door neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was standing in the hallway, a coat thrown over her shoulders. She was staring, horrified, at my dad, who was now huddled in a corner. “Leo? What—what are you doing sitting out here?” He looked up, his lips purple from the cold. “It’s… it’s nothing…” he stammered. “The kid and I… just had a little argument.” “An argument is no reason to lock someone out in this weather!” Mrs. Gable started hammering on our door. “Lily! Open up! You’ll freeze him to death out there!” Mom scrambled toward the door, but I blocked her path. “Let me go! At least let me give him a blanket!” she sobbed, struggling against me. I released her. I watched as she ran to the bedroom, grabbed a comforter, and stumbled back. I opened the door just a crack and watched her shove the blanket into his arms. “You just wait, I’m calling building management right now!” Mrs. Gable said to my dad, her voice dripping with indignation, before turning and storming downstairs. 2 Less than ten minutes later, the building manager, Mr. Evans, arrived with two security guards. He stood outside, his tone polite but firm. “Ms. Collins, we’ve received a complaint from a neighbor that you’ve locked a family member out of your apartment. It’s dangerously cold tonight, perhaps you could…” “Mr. Evans,” I interrupted him from behind the closed door. “If I remember correctly, the deed to this apartment has only one name on it: mine.” There was a moment of silence from the hallway. “I am the sole owner,” I said calmly. “I have the right to decide who I allow into my home. This is a private family matter.” Mr. Evans paused, then finally relented. “Understood, Ms. Collins. We respect the owner’s rights. However, we do hope you can resolve this conflict peacefully.” I heard them murmur a few words to Mrs. Gable before their footsteps faded away. He was still out there, wrapped in the thin comforter, shivering in the drafty hall. Mom wanted to stay outside with him, but I forced her back inside and locked the door again. Late into the night, I sat in front of the security monitor in the living room. On the screen, his attempts to knock grew weaker and weaker, until he finally slumped against the door and slid to the floor. I could hear Mom’s muffled sobs from her bedroom, but I just kept my eyes glued to the screen. Just as the sky began to lighten, Mom emerged from her room, her eyes swollen and red. She habitually glanced through the peephole, then let out a sharp scream. “Your father—he’s passed out! Open the door!” I walked to the door, calmly took out my phone, and dialed 911. Mom grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Open the door! We have to bring him inside!” “No,” I said, my voice devoid of any emotion. The wail of the ambulance siren grew closer. When the paramedics arrived with a stretcher, Mom finally broke free and rushed out. I stood just inside the doorway, watching them load him onto the stretcher, making no move to help. Mom looked back at me once, her eyes filled with a mixture of despair and utter confusion, before she followed the paramedics downstairs. The moment the door closed, I was on the phone with a security company. “Yes, I need it replaced now. The thickest steel door you have, with the most advanced lock system.” An hour later, the installers were at work. The new door was barely in place when my phone rang. It was Mom, her voice choked with tears. “Your father’s in bad shape. The doctor said if he’d been out there any longer… you need to get to the hospital, now…” “I’m not coming. It’d be better if he died.” I hung up. A moment later, my phone started vibrating uncontrollably. The family group chat had exploded. The latest message was a 59-second audio clip from my mom. I pressed play, and her hysterical cries filled the room. “Everyone needs to hear what this ungrateful daughter has done!” she shrieked. “Her father bought everything on her Black Friday list just to make her happy, and she locked him outside to freeze all night! Now he’s in the hospital!” “How could I have given birth to such a monster!” 3 Beneath the audio message, a flood of shocked and condemning texts from my relatives poured in. Expressionless, I left the group chat. The phone immediately rang. It was my aunt. “Lily! What the hell is wrong with you?” she roared. “Don’t you know how good your father has been to you? He’s lying in a hospital bed right now! Are you happy?” I set the phone on the table and let her scream until she was breathless. Then, I calmly picked it up and ended the call. A long text from my cousin, Mark, popped up next. 【Lily, having basic respect for your parents is the bare minimum of being a decent human being. Uncle Leo and Auntie raised you, and this is how you repay them? You get to the hospital and apologize right now, or don’t be surprised when I no longer consider you my cousin…】 With a tap of my finger, I blocked him. Next came my other uncle, another aunt… one by one, anyone who dared to lecture me was sent to my block list. Finally, silence. But the peace only lasted a few hours. That afternoon, a chorus of cries erupted from my front door. I looked through the peephole. Mom was at the front, holding up Dad, who was pale and still dressed in a hospital gown. My aunts, uncles, and cousin Mark surrounded them like a human shield. “She changed the locks! She even changed the locks!” Mom shrieked, pounding on the brand-new steel door. “Lily! You heartless monster! Your father just came back from the brink of death, and you won’t even let him in?” My uncle stepped forward and slammed his fist against the door. “Open up! Do you have any idea how close your father was to dying?” I leaned against the other side of the door, watching their furious faces as if they were actors in a play that had nothing to do with me. My aunt pressed her face to the door, sobbing. “Lily, how could you forget how much your father dotes on you? Has he ever been anything but good to you?” Neighbors started trickling out into the hallway, forming a small, gossiping crowd. I could hear their whispers. “This is just awful…” “I heard she locked her own dad out all night.” “What is wrong with kids these days…” My phone buzzed. An anonymous post in the building’s resident chat group: 【Can some people please have a little decency? Locking your elderly parents out of the house is just shameful!】 Suddenly, Mom let out a desperate, guttural scream. “Lily! Are you trying to kill us? Do you want us to die right here on your doorstep before you’re satisfied?” Amid the chaos, my dad, who had been silent until now, spoke in a weak voice. “Don’t… don’t be so harsh. You’ll scare her…” He shuffled forward and tapped gently on the door. “Honey… please open the door? Let Daddy come home… I’m not mad at you…” Mom held him, weeping. “Look at your father! He was just revived, and he still can’t bear to say a harsh word to you! Do you even have a heart?” I yanked open the inner wooden door, facing him through the steel security gate. 4 “Lily…” He reached a trembling hand through the bars, trying to touch me. I took a step back, out of his reach. “What do you really want?” Tears streamed down his weathered face, his voice thick with emotion. “What did I do wrong?” I stared into his eyes, my voice low and deliberate. “I want you to disappear.” My mother let out a piercing scream and threw herself against the security gate. “You monster! He’s your father!” Just then, the elevator doors opened. My grandparents emerged, holding onto each other for support. As soon as my grandmother saw the scene, tears filled her eyes. “Lily, dear, please open the door. Just let Grandma come in and talk to you, please?” I looked at my grandmother’s wrinkled, tired face. Slowly, I knelt, and through the cold steel bars, I bowed my head to the floor. “Grandma, Grandpa, I’m sorry.” My grandmother looked at me, her face a canvas of disappointment. She tightened her grip on my grandfather’s arm. “I’m too old for this… I can’t get involved in your business anymore…” She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. At that moment, my dad dropped to his knees. “Lily, I’m begging you! I’m on my knees! Please, just open the door!” My relatives immediately raised their phones, recording the entire pathetic display. After it became clear that I still wasn’t going to open the door, they finally left. The next morning, the video my cousin had taken was all over the internet. It showed my father, weeping on his knees, and me, standing stone-faced behind the bars of my door. The trending topic, #UngratefulDaughterForcesFatherToKneel, had a bright red “VIRAL” tag next to it. The doxxing began. My name, my job, my home address—everything was exposed. The website of the company I worked for was flooded with furious comments. “Is this person even human?” “Fire her immediately!” “Got the address. Sending funeral wreaths.” My phone rang. It was my department manager. His voice was strained. “Lily… look, with the way things are right now, the company thinks it’s best if you take a leave of absence for a while, until this blows over…” I hung up without a word and pulled back the curtains. A crowd had gathered below, pointing their phones at my window. Someone had even unfurled a banner: “UNGRATEFUL DAUGHTER GET OUT OF OUR NEIGHBORHOOD.” Just then, the doorbell rang. My parents were back, with the whole clan in tow. When I still refused to open up, someone called the cops. A few minutes later, two police officers were standing outside my door. I opened it. The older officer looked at me sternly. “Ma’am, we’re from the local precinct. We received a call from concerned citizens stating that you locked your father out of your home, resulting in his hospitalization?” “Yes,” I admitted without hesitation. “Why would you not let your own father into your home?” the officer asked, his brow furrowed. I looked him straight in the eye and said, enunciating every word, “I hate him.” “Because he cleared your shopping cart?” His tone was laced with disbelief. I took a deep breath, my voice clear and steady. “Because he’s not my father.” The officer’s expression instantly shifted to one of intense seriousness. My mother shrieked and tried to lunge at me, but the younger officer held her back. “What are you talking about?” she screamed hysterically. “Leo, tell her! Tell her you’re her father!” He was kneeling on the floor, his face as white as a sheet, his lips trembling as he failed to form a single word. Even the relatives gathered in the hallway fell silent, their faces a mixture of shock and something else… something I couldn’t quite read. The older officer sensed the shift in the atmosphere. He turned back to me. “Do you have any proof?” “I do,” I said, my gaze unwavering. “I have a lot.”

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1 The night before my thesis defense, I discovered that Leslie, my girlfriend of four years, had been financially supporting an underprivileged student. Every dollar she saved from her allowance went straight into that boy’s pocket. I confronted her, phone in hand. She was silent for the entire night, finally offering only a single, defiant sentence: “Yes, I pity him. Is that what you want to hear?” Four years of us, wiped away by a single pang of her pity for him. I couldn’t just let it end like that. I wiped away my tears and stood beside her in the line for our graduation photo, forcing a smile. That’s when her roommate rushed over. “Leslie! Leo heard you and Ben are getting engaged after graduation! He’s in his dorm—he took a bottle of sleeping pills!” Leslie’s graduation certificate slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. She bolted, a blur of motion. I clutched my own certificate, shouting after her, “You walk out that door now, you’re choosing him!” Her footsteps faltered for a single, agonizing second. Then, without a shred of hesitation, she vanished into the crowd. I stood there, frozen, the tassel of my graduation cap swinging in front of my eyes. The world around me was a cacophony of laughter and celebratory screams, but it all sounded distant and warped. The university president stood on the stage, microphone in hand, looking from me to the empty space where Leslie had been, utterly at a loss for words. Leslie’s parents, their faces ashen, rushed over and grabbed my hands. “Ben, I’m going to drag that wretched girl back here myself! The nerve of her!” her father seethed. I just shook my head. Slowly, I rolled up the certificate in my hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, just let her go.” The expressions on my own parents’ faces were even worse. My dad was white with fury, and my mom was openly crying. “What is this supposed to be? Her graduation, our engagement party! How could she humiliate our family like this?” my dad hissed. I stepped off the platform and took my mother’s arm. “Mom, Dad, let me take you home.” The scene was pure chaos. Leslie’s roommate, Daisy, scurried over, wringing her hands. “Ben, I’m so sorry. Leo’s condition was critical, I had to…” I looked at her and said nothing. Daisy had been Leslie’s roommate for four years. She knew Leo. In their eyes, Leo was the fragile one who needed protecting. But a truly fragile person doesn’t try to kill themselves on the most important day of someone else’s life. I picked up my degree, turned my back on the celebration, and walked away. My phone vibrated in my pocket, again and again. I didn’t answer. I knew it was Leslie. She would explain, apologize, tell me how dire the situation was, how she had no choice but to go. After four years together, I knew her inside and out. She had a crushing sense of responsibility, especially towards anyone she felt she had wronged. Two years ago, during the review for the university’s financial aid grants, Leslie, as the Student Council President, had publicly questioned the documentation Leo submitted. She thought something didn’t add up. It turned out to be a misunderstanding. Leo had just filled out the forms incorrectly. But the incident turned Leo into a laughingstock in our department and became Leslie’s personal cross to bear. That guilt had haunted her for two years. I used to think she was right to help him. She’d made a mistake; she should make amends. It was only today that I finally understood. Some amends cross a line. Back in my dorm, I stripped off my cap and gown and changed into my own clothes. I knew that if Leo had been rushed to the hospital, it would be the university health center, the closest one. I grabbed my keys and headed over. In the emergency room, just as I’d expected, Leslie was sitting by his bedside. Leo was lying there, an IV drip in his arm. He was pale, his eyes closed, with tear tracks still glistening on his lashes. Leslie was clutching his other hand, her brow furrowed with worry. I walked in. When she saw me, she shot to her feet, her eyes filled with apology. “Ben, you’re here. I’m so sorry, about today…” “How is he?” I cut her off, my gaze fixed on the boy in the bed. “The doctors pumped his stomach in time. He’s not in any danger, just weak and emotionally unstable.” I nodded. “Good.” I turned to leave. Leslie grabbed my wrist. “Ben, don’t be angry. This happened because of me, I couldn’t just ignore it. He’s just a kid, his family’s poor… he’s in such a pitiful state.” I pulled my hand away. “Leslie, I’m not angry. I just think our graduation day should have been more important than a freshman we’ve known for two years.” “That’s not it! Ben, you’ll always be the most important person to me! But he was dying!” “The doctor said he’s not going to die,” I stated, my voice flat. Leslie’s lips parted, but no words came out. Just then, Leo’s eyes fluttered open. The moment he saw me, fresh tears welled up. “Ben… I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I didn’t mean to… I just… I just couldn’t control myself.” He sobbed, his body trembling. “I saw you two at the ceremony, and I started thinking about my own life… I just lost it. I’m sorry, I ruined your graduation…” Leslie immediately sat back down, murmuring reassurances to him. “It’s okay, it’s all over now. Don’t think about it. You just need to rest.” The look she gave me was laced with blame: See? He’s already like this. Can’t you have a little compassion? I didn’t say another word. I just turned and walked away. Outside the hospital, the summer air was hot and sticky, clinging to my face like a film. It was only then that I realized my hands were shaking. The next morning, Leslie was waiting for me outside my dorm with breakfast. I buzzed her in but told her not to come up. She handed me the bag, a placating smile on her face. “Ben, I’m apologizing on Leo’s behalf. He was just emotional yesterday, he didn’t do it on purpose.” “Does he not have a mouth? Why do you have to apologize for him?” Her smile froze. “He’s… he’s still weak.” “Leslie, let’s forget about him for a second and talk about us,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “Our graduation was ruined, our engagement party is a joke. What are you going to tell our families and all our friends?” She was silent for a moment. “We’ll wait a while, until this blows over. Then we can just have a small dinner with them.” “A dinner?” I laughed, a short, bitter sound. “You think a dinner is going to fix this?” “Well, what else can we do? It’s already happened!” She was getting frustrated. “Ben, I know you’re hurt, but Leo has nothing, and he almost died. Can’t you just find it in your heart to pity him, to be a little more understanding?” There it was again. Understanding. I took the breakfast from her and set it on a nearby ledge. “Fine. You should go back. He’s all alone at the hospital, he needs someone to look after him.” Leslie visibly relaxed, thinking I had conceded. “I knew you had a soft heart. Don’t worry, as soon as he’s discharged and stable, I’ll make this all up to you.” She turned and left. I watched her walk away, then picked up the breakfast from the ledge and threw it into the nearest trash can. Later, I went to the administration building to complete my checkout procedures. On the way, I passed the university hospital and, on a dark impulse, decided to go in and see Leo. He was propped up in bed, scrolling on his phone and laughing with the patient in the next bed over. He looked perfectly fine. The moment he saw me, his smile vanished, instantly replaced by a look of pathetic misery. “Ben. You came.” I nodded. “Yeah. Came to see how you were doing.” I walked over and picked up his chart from the bedside table, flipping through it. “Looks like you’re recovering well. You’ll probably be discharged tomorrow.” “Yeah,” he mumbled, looking down. “Thanks for… for coming to see me.” “Don’t mention it. Just don’t do anything stupid again. It’s your life.” He bit his lip, his eyes turning red again. “I know, Ben. It’s just… sometimes it’s just too much to handle.” I didn’t respond. I put the chart down and left. That afternoon, I found a friend of mine who was interning at the hospital. “Hey, Sarah. You remember that kid who was brought in for an overdose yesterday? Leo?” Sarah thought for a moment. “Oh, that guy. Yeah, I remember. A gorgeous girl brought him in, practically carrying him. She was pale with panic.” “What was the dosage like?” “Ha, don’t even get me started!” Sarah scoffed. “It was a few vitamin pills mixed with a couple of sleeping pills he probably got from god-knows-where.” “The dose was less than what I take to get to sleep some nights. It looked scary, him coming in crying and all, but everyone in the ER knows the type. It’s all for show. He was never in any danger of dying.” My heart sank, stone by heavy stone. That evening, Leslie came to take me to dinner, to celebrate my acceptance into the graduate program. She seemed to be in a good mood. Leo had been discharged, and she’d gotten him settled. “I booked a table at your favorite steakhouse.” In the car, she kept trying to take my hand, but I pulled away each time. “Ben, I know I’ve put you through a lot. I owe you a graduation ceremony, and I promise, I will give you an even bigger, better one.” I stared out the window at the passing city lights, saying nothing. “Leslie, how much money do you give Leo every month?” I asked suddenly. She flinched. “Not… not much. Just… half of my allowance.” Leslie’s family was well-off. Half her allowance was not a small amount. “Didn’t he apply for financial aid?” “He did, but it’s not enough. And you know how proud he is, he’s too embarrassed to ask his family for more.” “So you’ve been keeping him?” My voice turned to ice. Leslie frowned, her own tone growing sharp. “Ben, what kind of way is that to put it? Keeping him? I’m making amends for a mistake I made!” Her voice rose. “I almost ruined his reputation! The least I can do is make sure he doesn’t have to worry about money for the rest of his life! Is that so wrong?” I didn’t answer. The temperature in the car plummeted. We ate our meal in stony silence. On the way back, Leslie’s phone rang. It was Leo. Her voice instantly softened. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” “The power went out in your dorm? Don’t be scared, and don’t move. I’ll be right there to check on it!” She hung up and forced a smile at me. “Ben, I’ll drop you off first, then I have to go check on Leo. He lives alone, and he’s easily frightened.” I just stared at her. “Leslie, what is he to you?” The smile on her face froze. “He’s… my friend. My underclassman.” “So you’re responsible for the rest of his life, including fixing his circuit breakers?” “Ben!” She was genuinely angry now. “Why are you being so unreasonable? He’s all alone, he just got out of the hospital, and his room is pitch black! I can’t just ignore him!” “He could call the dorm supervisor. Or the campus electrician.” “It’s not the same! He doesn’t trust other people!” I laughed. “Right. He only trusts you.” I reached over and opened the car door. “Don’t bother dropping me off. I’ll walk. You go. Your little brother is waiting.” I got out and slammed the door. Leslie’s car idled behind me for a moment, and then, it drove away. In the direction of Leo’s dorm. After that, we were in a cold war. Leslie didn’t contact me. I didn’t contact her. The apartment we’d rented for grad school was ready and waiting. We were supposed to move in right after graduation. I went there alone. The place was huge and empty. We had picked out every piece of furniture together. I sat on the sofa for a long, long time. A week later, Leslie called. She sounded exhausted. “Ben, we need to talk.” We met at the new apartment. She was thinner, with dark circles under her eyes. “Ben, I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair to you lately,” she began. “Leo’s been really unstable, and I’ve had to spend more time with him.” I said nothing, just waited for her to continue. “I know you’re upset, but Ben, we’ve been together for four years. Don’t you know me by now? All I feel for Leo is guilt and responsibility. Nothing more.” “I know,” I said. She let out a breath of relief. “I knew you’d understand.” She moved to hug me. I took a step back. “Leslie, I came here today to tell you… I don’t want this apartment anymore.” She froze, her arms still outstretched. “What… what do you mean?” “The lease is in your name, you paid the deposit. I don’t want it.” “Why? Ben, this is our home!” she said, her voice rising in panic. “Because one day, the power will go out in Leo’s dorm again, or his sink will get clogged, and you’ll decide that he needs a home more than I do.” The color drained from her face. “Ben! Why do you have to talk like that? Why are you trying to hurt me?” “Am I not telling the truth?” “I’m just helping him! It’s a small thing!” “Running out of our graduation in front of thousands of people was a small thing? Giving him half your allowance every month is a small thing? Leslie, your ‘small things’ are adding up.” She opened her mouth, but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she took a deep breath. “Fine, Ben. If that’s what you think, then I’ll prove you wrong.” She locked her eyes on mine, her voice deliberate. “I’m going to have Leo move in here. He can take the guest room.” A buzzing started in my head. “What did you say?” “I said, I’m moving Leo in!” she repeated, her voice louder, as if trying to convince both me and herself. “I can’t trust him to be alone in the dorms, he’s always having some kind of crisis. If he’s living under our roof, I can keep an eye on him, and then you won’t have to worry! That should solve everything, right?” I stared at her as if she were a complete stranger. “Leslie, you’re insane.” “I’m not insane, I’m being responsible! I can’t let anything else happen to him! It’s my duty!” Each word was a hammer blow. Suddenly, I felt tired. A deep, bone-weary exhaustion. “Fine,” I said. “Have him move in.” Leslie seemed stunned that I’d agreed so easily. I took my key out of my bag and placed it on the coffee table. “Here’s your key back.” “From now on, this is your home. Yours and his.” “I wish you two a happy life together.” I stood up and walked out of the home I had once been so excited about. As the door clicked shut behind me, I thought I heard the sound of something smashing inside. And finally, the tears came. Four years. Over. Just like that.

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The new intern had a pathological need to pry. On Valentine’s Day, my husband dropped a million dollars on a handbag at the luxury boutique where I work, just to boost my sales numbers. Later that night, as I was on a date with him, a passive-aggressive message from the new intern buzzed on my phone. “Our work app shows you just logged another thousand steps. That’s the exact distance to the hotel next door.” “Wow, Lily, you really work fast. Close a million-dollar deal and head straight to a hotel room with the client?” My face went cold. I typed back a sharp reply. “With your talent for sniffing out people’s business, you should’ve been a police dog.” That night, I came home to find my doorstep covered in funeral wreaths. It was all because of a post the intern had made. It had gone viral. [The Salesgirl Who Slept Her Way to My Million-Dollar Commission!] A pair of my snagged stockings, which I’d thrown in the trash, had become her “proof” that I seduced clients on the job. The entire internet pitied the intern. I became the “slutty salesgirl” everyone was cursing. What she didn’t know was that my husband is a tech titan worth billions, and for me, this job was just a way to kill time. 1 “Oh, Lily, buying a plane ticket? Planning a little getaway?” “It’s Valentine’s Day today. Are you and your boyfriend taking a trip tomorrow?” I’d just arrived at the boutique when Vivian, the new intern, cornered me in the staff lounge. Her question caught me off guard. I had, in fact, booked a flight for my husband that morning. Without thinking, I answered, “Yeah, I did. How did you know?” A smug look flashed across her face. “Your frequent flyer app. It showed an update—211 eco-points for skipping the in-flight meal.” Before I could even process that, she finished touching up her makeup and breezed out of the lounge. A chill ran down my spine. What was wrong with this girl? Frowning, I opened the app and immediately blocked her account. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and the more I thought about it, the more unnerved I became. A couple of weeks ago, I bought a new car and ordered a custom air freshener for it on Amazon. That very evening, she waited for me in the mall’s underground parking garage. “Hey! I had no idea you got a new car, Lily!” she’d chirped, beaming with pride. “I saw the air freshener in your order history and figured it out. Since you’re driving, can you give me a ride home? It’s on your way.” Not wanting to cause a scene, I agreed. It was not on my way. I spent nearly an hour stuck in traffic on the freeway, driving ten miles out of my way to drop her off. After that incident, I locked down all my social media accounts and even created a separate filter for her on my private photo streams. I shook my head and sent a quick text to my husband, venting my frustration. It was Valentine’s Day, and business at the high-end boutiques was booming. I’d been closing sales all day, many of them from friends and my husband’s business partners who specifically requested me. By the end of my shift, my sales were already approaching the million-dollar mark. Vivian, on the other hand, had a revolving door of customers who came and left empty-handed. Her sales were dismal. After ringing up another hundred-thousand-dollar purchase, I was heading to the lounge for a break when I saw her clutching a new limited-edition silk scarf, her knuckles white as if she wanted to tear it to shreds. Her eyes, glinting with envy, fixed on me. “You’re so lucky, Lily,” she said, her voice tight with resentment. “You’ve made a month’s commission in a single day.” I gave her a polite, dismissive smile and said nothing. Just then, as it was her turn to take the next walk-in client, my husband stepped into the boutique. “I’m here to see Lily,” he said. My colleagues barely batted an eye; it was common for clients to have a preferred sales associate. I’d never shared any details about my personal life at work. No one even knew I was married, let alone that my husband was a giant in the tech world. So, of course, they didn’t recognize him. But that small moment was all it took to show me the truly dark side of the workplace. “Lily,” Vivian hissed, grabbing my wrist. Her voice was pure saccharine poison. “It’s my turn to take a client, and you’ve hit your numbers for the day. Why don’t you let me have this one?” I winced, pulling my arm away. A patch of angry red skin was already forming where her nails had dug into my wrist, nearly breaking the skin. “Vivian, you can speak to me without grabbing me.” She just rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I barely touched you. Don’t be so dramatic.” “Just let me have this client, Lily.” I met her gaze, my voice turning to ice. “No.” My husband, seeing my dark expression, simply handed me his VIP card, and I led him into the private viewing room. 2 “What’s wrong? Did your colleague bother you again?” “That girl, Vivian… she’s just so unbelievably weird. I can’t stand her.” I sighed, and as I turned, I brushed against a display cart. A sharp hiss echoed in the quiet room as my stocking caught on the corner, tearing a long run up my leg. “Alright, don’t be angry. It’s Valentine’s Day,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. To cheer me up, he gestured to a rare leather handbag that had just arrived. A million-dollar bag. He bought it without a second thought, and neither of us thought much of it. My closet at home was already overflowing with them. But the moment my husband left with the bag, Vivian stormed up to me, jabbing a finger in my face. “Lily! You have to give me that million-dollar sale!” “That commission was supposed to be mine! If you don’t give it to me, I’m reporting you to corporate for stealing my clients and workplace bullying!” Her outburst was so absurd I almost laughed. “And which one of your eyes saw me steal your client?” “If you’re having a psychotic break, go to a hospital. Don’t have it here.” A few of my colleagues, with whom I had a good relationship, saw I was genuinely angry and stepped in. “That’s enough, Vivian! The client specifically asked for Lily.” “He always asks for Lily when he comes in. Just drop it.” They held Vivian back as her face flushed a furious red. If looks could kill, she would have devoured me whole, all traces of her usual innocent facade gone. “You… you just wait!” she spat. Perfect. I loved seeing her seethe, completely powerless. “Instead of wasting energy trying to poach my sales,” I said coolly, “you might want to spend some time actually learning the product catalog. You couldn’t even tell half a dozen clients today whether we had their items in stock. If I were you, I’d be hiding my face in shame.” “Oh, wait, I forgot,” I added, unable to resist one last jab. “You’re too busy prying into everyone’s private lives to bother with professional knowledge.” Finally, the anger that had been simmering inside me all day was released. She pointed a trembling finger at me, so furious she was practically vibrating. I didn’t give her another glance. I walked into the staff lounge, changed out of the ruined stockings, and tossed them into the trash. That evening, my husband had booked a candlelight dinner for us at the five-star hotel right next to the mall. After my shift, I took a short, pleasant stroll over. I’d barely settled in at our table when two new messages popped up on my phone. 「Our work app shows you just logged another thousand steps. That’s the exact distance to the hotel next door.」 「Wow, Lily, you really work fast. Close a million-dollar deal and head straight to a hotel room with the client?」 The steak in my mouth turned to ash. I picked up my phone, my face a mask of ice, and shot back a reply. 「With your talent for sniffing out people’s business, you should’ve been a police dog.」 Then I blocked her. I’d taken this job to experience life, not to be harassed. If she wanted to burn bridges, fine. I had no reason to keep someone like her in my contacts. After dinner, my husband and I went to a movie. When we finally drove home, a massive ‘surprise’ was waiting for us. Our front door was surrounded by funeral wreaths. More were arriving, delivered by couriers who were assembling them right on our lawn. My heart hammered against my ribs; I thought I was going to have a stroke. The scene was so outrageous that even my husband, a man of unshakable composure, couldn’t stay calm. He was on the phone with building security in an instant. “What the hell is going on with your package screening process!” The security manager rushed over, wiping sweat from his brow. “Mr. Grant… we honestly had no idea they were funeral wreaths…” “The delivery orders just said they were Valentine’s bouquets that required on-site assembly…” 3 I stared at the banners draped over the wreaths. 「MAY THE ‘SALES SLUT’ REST IN PEACE!」 「GO TO HELL, YOU WRETCH!」 「PAYBACK’S A BITCH, AND IT’S HERE.」 … I knew, with a gut-wrenching certainty, that Vivian was behind this. I quickly pulled out my phone and found the social media account she used to promote her sales. And there it was. A post she’d made three hours ago. [The Salesgirl Who Slept Her Way to My Million-Dollar Commission!] The post was explosive. In just a few hours, it had amassed over a hundred thousand likes. The content was even more insane. It was a meticulously crafted narrative complete with photos, a timeline, and Vivian’s own twisted, Sherlock Holmes-style analysis. The top image was a photo of the snagged stockings I’d thrown away. [After stealing my client, she took him into the private VIP room. When she came out, her stockings were torn. Right after he paid, she followed him to a hotel to finish the job…] I scrolled down to the comments and felt the blood drain from my face. The internet mob was tearing me to shreds. 「WTF! It’s 2025 and scum like this still exists? Bullying new hires and stealing their sales!」 「I feel so bad for the author. I hope this evil old witch gets hit by a bus!」 「I can’t take it anymore. Someone needs to dox this trash! I’m going to serve some justice tonight and expose this homewrecking whore!」 「Guys, my buddy’s a hacker. He got her info. Here’s her home address…」 「Replying to @HackerGod: Sending you a DM! I want to send a wreath!」 … Reading through the comments, a wave of cold fear washed over me. She had spun an entire ‘truth’ from a pair of snagged stockings I’d thrown in the trash. If the man in that room hadn’t been my own husband, I wouldn’t have been able to defend myself even if I had ten mouths. The entire post was a diatribe accusing me of sleeping my way to the top, of bullying a new intern, and of stealing her commission. To paint me as a serial offender, she’d even dug up old vacation photos from my overseas social media accounts—pictures from trips I’d taken months ago. There was a casual shot of my husband and me holding hands in a first-class cabin. That photo had ignited a whole new firestorm in the comments. 「This old hag is just an international call girl who sleeps around on trips!」 「I’m done. Wreaths aren’t enough. I’m reporting her to her company’s corporate office. They need to fire this prostitute!」 … The comments made me so angry I could barely breathe. Even my husband’s face was a thundercloud of fury. “We’re calling the police.” “Don’t be afraid, Lily. I’m getting our lawyer on the line right now.” I couldn’t believe Vivian’s obsession was so strong she’d even managed to find my private accounts on foreign social media platforms. Thank God I only ever posted travel photos and never a single picture showing my husband’s face. Otherwise, she would have uncovered my real identity long ago. Our lawyer immediately began compiling a chain of evidence for the cyberbullying case. I opened my company’s work app and saw that Vivian had posted in the main corporate group chat, using her real name. 「A senior employee stole an intern’s million-dollar commission. How does the company plan to handle this?! @everyone」 The group, which had been buzzing with sales reports just a moment before, fell dead silent. Vivian wasn’t done. 「Don’t play dead! I have proof that this sales associate seduces clients during work hours and sleeps with them for sales! @everyone」 She was making all this noise, all based on a picture of stockings from a trash can. My hands clenched around my phone as I forced myself to stay calm. I typed out a reply. 「First of all, the client was a VIP who specifically requested me. There was no ‘stealing’ of your commission.」 4 「Secondly, you used a photo of torn stockings to launch a nationwide smear campaign, accusing me of sleeping with clients, and then led an online mob to dox me and leak my private information. I have already reported this to the police, and my lawyer is involved.」 My firm response prompted a few others in the group to speak up for me. 「A VIP client has a preferred associate. How is that stealing a sale? That’s ridiculous!」 「These interns these days have some nerve. I just pulled up your sales records, Vivian. You’ve been here two months and haven’t even cleared half a million in total sales. What exactly are you whining about?」 「Lily is the top seller in the entire region. She has nothing to hide. You, on the other hand, should get ready for a lawsuit and a police investigation.」 For the next half hour, Vivian was silent in the group. I thought she had finally backed down. I was wrong. She took screenshots of our internal company chat and posted them online for everyone to see. [The Slutty Salesgirl Who Stole My Commission Is Now Threatening to Sue Me!] The post was filled with images of our private conversation. I stared at the screen, a new wave of anger rising. Our employment contracts had a strict, legally binding clause against leaking internal company communications. She was truly asking for it. But the internet mob, now being used as her weapon, exploded. Within minutes, all of our brand’s official social media accounts were under siege from a massive wave of online attacks. By the time our corporate legal department could react, the entire internet was calling for a boycott of our brand. At that moment, my personal cell phone rang. It was an unknown number. “Lily, how do you like it? My little Valentine’s gift for you?” Vivian’s voice, dripping with triumphant malice, crackled through the phone. The sound of it was so repulsive it made me want to vomit. I fought back the nausea and replied with cold contempt. “Calling you a police dog is an insult to dogs. You’re nothing but a sewer rat.” A cold laugh answered me. “Tch!” “Don’t even try to scare me with your lawyers. The police can’t help you either. You’re the public enemy right now, the slut the entire internet wants to see burn.” “Oh, by the way,” she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I found some information on your VIP client. You’re finished! The man you seduced today is the billionaire CEO of a major tech company!” “And he has a wife! What do you think will happen if I give his dear wife a little call? Don’t blame me when she has you beaten to a pulp.” “Give me all of your commission from this month—all thirteen million of it—and I might consider letting you off the hook.” A cold smile touched my lips. “Go on then. Call her.” Her frustration was palpable. “I have proof you went to the hotel! You just wait!” And she did it. Vivian used the client’s number to call my personal phone. The line rang—ring, ring, ring. I answered it myself. “This is she,” I said calmly. “Vivian, is there anything else you want to say? I’ve already forwarded all your fabricated evidence to the police.”

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At my company physical, when I was nineteen, I found out I was pregnant. With triplets. A coworker made a hundred copies of my ultrasound report and scattered them all over the golf course. “You little tramp! Became a caddy just to snag a rich guy! You really think a baby is your golden ticket into high society?” “Girls like you are just toys for the wealthy. No one’s going to take responsibility for you!” The wealthy wives on the course descended on me like vultures, treating me as if I was the homewrecker who had seduced their husbands. Just as they were dragging me away, planning to force me to get an abortion, the city’s most powerful heir appeared. “The babies are mine,” he said. I smiled. Not long ago, blessed with a naturally fertile body, I was handpicked by the wealthiest family in the country. My job? To have a baby for the “barren” heir. 1 I was collecting balls on the golf course when a nouveau riche client groped me. A wave of nausea hit me, and I gagged. He stormed off in disgust, but then my brother’s voice came from behind me. “Mia… are you pregnant?” His words were like a splash of cold water. I realized I hadn’t had my period in over a month. The look on my face was all the answer he needed. “I’m such a burden!” he cried, pounding his chest in self-loathing. “If it wasn’t for my kidney failure, you never would have gone down this path!” He didn’t want to be a burden. But all I wanted was for him to live. That was why I’d taken the job as a caddy at this exclusive golf club. I had one goal: Sleep with Julian Gunn, the city’s most eligible and powerful heir, and get the money for my brother’s kidney transplant. But when I actually became Julian’s caddy, I discovered he was fiercely loyal to an old flame, practically a monk. Just when I thought I was at a dead end, Julian’s grandfather found me. “I’ve had a full background check done on you,” the old Mr. Gunn began, blunt and to the point. “You and your brother grew up in an orphanage. He has renal failure, which is why you’re here, trying to ‘earn’ money.” He put a heavy emphasis on the word ‘earn.’ My little scheme was transparent to him. But he seemed unfazed, continuing in his cold, measured tone. “You’re intelligent, attractive, and healthy. No promiscuous history. And most importantly, you’re naturally fertile. You are a perfect candidate to carry on the Gunn family line.” At the words “carry on the family line,” my head snapped up. My foggy brain cleared in an instant. Julian was the ninth-generation sole heir to the Gunn fortune. But because of his old love, Grace, he was still single at thirty. It was clear the old man was running out of patience. The Gunns knew so much about my physical condition because of the extensive medical exam I’d had to take for this job. No wonder it had been so thorough. This golf club wasn’t just a club; it was a screening ground for the Gunn family’s surrogate. I dug my nails into my palms, trying to hide the wild joy erupting inside me. But when the butler handed me the “Procreation KPI Agreement,” the strings of zeros—tens of millions of dollars—blinded me. Clause 1: A three-month probationary period. Successful conception within this period will result in a bonus of ten million dollars. Clause 2: Successful delivery of a female child will result in a bonus of eighty million dollars. Clause 3: Successful delivery of a male child will result in a bonus of one hundred million dollars. Clause 4: Successful delivery of two or more children, regardless of gender, will result in an additional bonus of ten million dollars. Clause 5: For exceeding KPIs, each additional child will result in an extra ten million dollars. The final clause: The more you produce, the more you earn. No upper limit. Suddenly, I saw a constellation of zeros floating before my eyes. It wasn’t just money. It was my brother’s life, and the future we had only ever dreamed of. “If you find the terms agreeable, you may sign,” the old man said. “Agreeable! Yes, it’s all agreeable!” I snatched the pen from the butler, terrified that if I waited a second longer, Mr. Gunn would change his mind. My unabashed greed seemed to please him. Of course. I was his employee now, and what boss doesn’t want an employee motivated by money? How else would I be driven to meet my KPIs? 2 With the contract signed, the only thing left was the ‘how.’ How was I going to sleep with Julian Gunn? The old man knew his grandson was practically immune to women, so he took matters into his own hands. He drugged him. He patted my shoulder, his voice grave. “Mia, I’m only helping you this once. The rest is up to you.” I knew what he wasn’t saying: If you’re not pregnant in three months, you’re out. Desperate for money, I seized the opportunity my ‘boss’ had created for me. That night, after Julian had drunk the tainted water, I just happened to be “passing by.” Dazed and consumed by a drug-induced lust, he pulled me into his car, tearing at my clothes, murmuring promises that he would take responsibility. A thrill shot through me. But I played my part, feigning innocence, struggling just enough to be convincing. The thought of my brother waiting for a life-saving transplant pushed all pain and shame from my mind. Perhaps the old man had used a potent dose. That night, Julian’s stamina was incredible. He took me again and again. To maintain my “innocent victim” persona, I waited until he was asleep, then, despite the searing pain in my body, I quietly slipped away. The next time I saw him was the following day. He tossed a black credit card at me. “No limit. Spend whatever you want.” So, this was what he meant by taking responsibility. As tempting as it was, I had principles. I had a contract with his grandfather; I wasn’t going to double-dip. “Thank you, Mr. Gunn,” I said, pushing the card back into his hand. “But last night was just an accident. We should both just forget it.” I turned and walked away, leaving him with the image of a fragile, vulnerable girl. A flash of surprise crossed his face. In that moment, I knew I had piqued his curiosity. 3 In the days that followed, I continued to be Julian’s caddy, but I was careful to maintain a professional distance. I could feel his unspoken questions hanging in the air. In truth, I wasn’t as composed as I appeared. Every day, I prayed that I had gotten pregnant on that one night. But I had a backup plan. Even if I hadn’t, I had at least established a certain persona in his mind. Creating another “opportunity” within the three-month window wasn’t impossible. A good employee always has a contingency plan. Perhaps fate was on my side. I had hit the jackpot. Not only was I pregnant, I was pregnant with triplets. I had exceeded my KPIs in a single month. When the doctor announced the news, old Mr. Gunn was so thrilled he slapped his thigh in delight. He immediately transferred ten million dollars to my account, and from then on, even the way he looked at me softened. I was already doing the math. If all three were boys, I’d get three hundred million. Ten million for the pregnancy, another ten for having more than one child, and ten more for exceeding the quota. The grand total could be three hundred and thirty million dollars. Oh, my God. I thought I was going to faint from sheer happiness. This money wouldn’t just pay for my brother’s transplant; it would allow him to pursue his dream of becoming a concert pianist. “Ahem.” My excitement must have been too obvious. Mr. Gunn cleared his throat, pulling me back to reality. “Mia, you just focus on a healthy pregnancy. I’ll make sure Julian gives you and the children a proper name.” A name? His words stunned me for a moment. I had assumed the plan was to take the babies and discard the mother. High-society families were all about pedigree. But it seemed that for the sake of his great-grandchildren, the Gunn family was willing to accept me. So, under Mr. Gunn’s direction, my pregnancy report was slipped into the file with the other employee health records at the club. I deliberately let a jealous coworker find it. I deliberately set the stage for Julian to “rescue” me, the poor, innocent victim. Which brings us back to the beginning, to the scene of the powerful heir playing the hero. 4 What I didn’t expect was that Julian would drive me straight to a hospital. He was stone-faced the entire way. “You’re getting an abortion. You can’t have these babies right now.” “Okay.” I ignored the second half of his sentence and only answered the first. My calm, tearless agreement seemed to throw him off. I’m sure he thought I would try to use the pregnancy to trap him into marriage. My quick compliance was the last thing he expected. The truth was, I did want to marry into the Gunn family. Agreeing to the abortion was just part of the act. “Don’t worry, Mr. Gunn. I grew up an orphan. I would never let my children be illegitimate. If you can’t give me a commitment, I won’t have them.” With that, I got out of the car and strode purposefully toward the hospital entrance. One step, two steps, three… Just as I was about to walk through the doors, Mr. Gunn arrived, right on cue. One command—the babies must be kept—and one Rolls-Royce later, Julian and I were on our way to the city hall. To my surprise, Julian didn’t protest at all. I’d heard his parents had died when he was young and that his grandfather had raised him. I figured he was going along with it out of concern for the old man’s health. He was marrying me and keeping the babies just to avoid upsetting his grandfather. But as we stood there, marriage certificate in hand, Julian leaned in and whispered, “You’re too young. Giving birth is risky for you.” “Huh?” I didn’t understand why he would say that. But then it clicked. He was explaining why he had taken me to get an abortion. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to take responsibility; it was because he was worried about me. I’ll admit, in that moment, I was touched. Other than my brother, Julian was the first man who had ever shown any concern for my well-being. Perhaps sensing my insecurity, he added, “But Grandpa was right. An abortion would be even worse for your health at your age.” “Just focus on having the babies. I said I would take responsibility, and I will. For you and for them.” A man who was rich, responsible, and caring… it was a dangerously attractive combination. But my rational mind reminded me: this is a job. Do not get emotionally involved. I immediately puffed out my chest and made a promise. “Don’t worry, Mr. Gunn! The day your old flame comes back, I’ll be out of your hair in a flash. We’ll get a divorce, no problem.” The air between us froze. The warm, gentle expression on Julian’s face vanished, replaced by a thunderous scowl. Right. The old flame. His one weak spot. I really shouldn’t have brought her up. 5 On the way back from the city hall to the Gunn estate, I sent a picture of the marriage certificate to my brother. After he’d found out I was pregnant, he had tried to kill himself, not wanting to be a burden on me any longer. Thankfully, he had been saved in time. When Mr. Gunn learned I was pregnant, he was worried my brother’s condition would cause me stress. He had a long talk with him privately. I don’t know what they discussed, but after that, my brother agreed to go abroad for the transplant surgery. Ping. A message from him came through almost immediately. [Congratulations, Mia! I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.] [Focus on your health! I’m going to work hard and get strong, so I can be there to support you and the babies.] The short message was filled with love and longing. Tears streamed down my face. As I wiped them away, I met Julian’s searching gaze. A pang of guilt hit me, and I couldn’t hold his eye. I quickly turned away, but a sudden stop sent me tumbling into his arms. His chest was surprisingly solid. Suddenly, flashes of our night together filled my mind, and my face burned hot. Thankfully, we arrived at the Gunn estate just then, and I was relieved to escape the confines of the car. The opulence of the Gunn home was beyond anything I could have imagined. The guest bathroom alone was larger than the entire space I had occupied for the first nineteen years of my life. In that moment, I truly understood the chasm that the word ‘class’ represented. And it only strengthened my resolve to climb out of the world I had been born into. I was nervous walking into the house, but the staff all treated me with the utmost respect, addressing me as “Mrs. Gunn.” A team of over a hundred people—doctors, nutritionists, chefs—was assigned to my care. Of course, I wasn’t naive enough to think that Mr. Gunn had truly accepted me as his granddaughter-in-law. This was a classic case of my value being tied to my womb. Still, it all felt so surreal that I got a little carried away. I found myself sitting at a grand piano, my fingers hovering over the keys. My brother and I had been briefly fostered by a concert pianist. He had said my brother had the hands of a musician. While he taught my brother, I would sit beside them, my chin resting on my hands, watching. For a little while, I had thought we had finally found a home… “Don’t touch that.” A sharp voice cut through my memories. I flinched, snatching my hand back as if burned. Julian strode toward me, his grip on my wrist painfully tight. “Who gave you permission to touch it?” he demanded, his eyes boring into me. “I… I’m sorry… I was just…” I was terrified, stammering to explain. “I was just thinking about my brother…” “Your brother?” Julian sneered, his eyes turning colder. “Is it a habit for both of you to touch things that don’t belong to you? No wonder you were given up so many times.” My mind went blank. So, he had investigated me too. He knew about my history of being returned to the orphanage. But his taunt didn’t hurt. I had heard worse. I was immune. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gunn,” I said softly, gently pulling my hand from his grasp. I managed a perfectly tragic smile. “I promise it won’t happen again.” Even though I didn’t care, I still had to play the victim. Julian seemed to realize he had gone too far. His tone softened. “That piano belonged to Grace. She doesn’t like other people touching it.” “I understand,” I said, forcing another smile as I gracefully retreated. His guilt was exactly what I wanted.

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Andrew, Seraphina, and I—we grew up together, as inseparable as three sides of a triangle. But those two were like oil and water, arguing the second they were in the same room. For over a decade, I was their designated peacemaker. Everyone around us would laugh and say they were rivals, and I was the prize. A week before my wedding to Andrew, a post popped up on my feed. It was a photo from a church wedding, the couple’s backs to the camera, but their silhouettes were painfully familiar. The caption read: [I wore this dress before she did. I had you before she did.] [After all these years, I’ve finally beaten her. Just once.] 1 “Miss Ashworth, our sincerest apologies. The wedding gown will need another day for final adjustments. It will be ready for pickup tomorrow.” Reading the message from the bridal studio, I clicked back to the photo from the post. I zoomed in. The specific constellation of diamonds scattered across the train—that was my design. An hour ago, Andrew had texted me: [Elara, honey, I’m so sorry. Something came up at work. I can’t make it to pick up the dress with you today.] And Seraphina: [Elara, I’m so, so sorry! Something unexpected just came up and I can’t come help you try it on. Forgive me!] Why was everyone so full of apologies this morning? I shook my head, trying to banish the ridiculous thoughts spiraling in my mind. A pinned comment sat at the top of the post: [Even from the back, you can tell they’re soulmates! You grew up together, you’re obviously in love—girl, you have to fight for him! Steal him back!] I tapped out a reply: [If they’re in love, why does he need to be stolen? Genuinely curious. Here for the story.] That evening, Andrew and Seraphina showed up at my door together, bickering as usual. “Some fiancé you are,” Sera started, jabbing a finger at Andrew. “You promised you’d go with Elara to get her dress. What could possibly be more important than that?” “And you?” Andrew shot back. “You said you’d be there to give her a second opinion. You were nowhere to be found either!” I looked at them—the two people I’d known my entire life. My fiancé. My best friend. That post… it had to be a coincidence. Right? “Alright, you two,” I said, feigning a headache. “You start fighting the second you see each other. Don’t you ever get tired?” They exchanged a look, and the corners of their mouths lifted in a tiny, shared smile. A cold dread pooled in my stomach. “It’s fine,” I added quickly. “The studio said it won’t be ready until tomorrow anyway. No big deal.” “Still, we broke our promise,” Seraphina insisted. “Let’s go out for dinner. To make it up to you, my treat.” “Your treat? Don’t steal my line,” Andrew scoffed, rolling his eyes at her. “If anyone’s making amends, it’s me.” He stepped closer to her and playfully swatted the back of her neck. I saw him freeze. A faint blush crept up Seraphina’s cheeks. “Sera? Are you okay?” I asked, a knot of worry tightening in my chest. “Your face is so red. Are you feeling sick?” “Oh! No, no, I’m fine! Let’s just go.” At the restaurant, Andrew and I sat on one side of the booth, with Seraphina across from me. When she came back from the restroom, however, she slid in on the other side, directly across from Andrew. Andrew, who had been in the middle of placing a piece of grilled salmon on my plate, paused. I saw a subtle shift in his posture, a slight movement in his lower body. Seraphina’s expression was pure satisfaction. She had a little wine and got progressively louder, insisting she spend the night at my place. When we got back to my apartment, Andrew looked at her, now slurring her words, and frowned. “Elara, I should probably just take her home. Look at the state of her. I don’t want her keeping you up all night.” I nodded. “Okay. Drive safe.” After my shower, I saw a reply to my comment on the post. [The three of us grew up together. He and I were always closer, the classic pair of bickering sweethearts. But she liked him too. And he felt he owed her his life, so he promised himself to her. I had no choice but to smile and wish them well. He couldn’t bear to see me hurt, so he took the dress she designed and let me wear it first. He gave me a secret wedding, just for the two of us, one the world could never accept. I’m so content. And tonight… tonight is our wedding night.] Attached was a new photo: four bare legs tangled in bedsheets. The nail polish on her toes… it was the exact shade I had helped her pick out last week. 2 The comments section was exploding with shippers, all of them offering her advice. [Girl, you can’t just let a love like that go! You have to fight for your happiness. It doesn’t matter if they’re engaged—even if they were married, you could still get him!] [A life debt isn’t the same as love! You need to be brave and make him see the truth!] [OMG, you should totally crash the wedding and steal him at the altar! We’ll be watching!] [+1!] The poster replied: [Oh no, I couldn’t! She’s my best friend, too. I could never betray my best friend for a man. To be honest, she’s more important to me than he is! As long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters~] [My heart breaks for you. It’s always the quiet ones, the ones who don’t cry, who get nothing. This is so unfair T_T] … I remembered playing house in our neighborhood courtyard as kids. Andrew announced that I would be his bride. Seraphina immediately burst into tears. “No, no! I want to be your bride!” “Okay,” Andrew had said, ever the diplomat. “Then you can both be my brides.” The memory, once sweet, now tasted like ash. All the adults who had laughed at our childhood game… what would they think now? I tried video-calling Andrew. He declined it instantly. An hour later, a text came through: [Elara, she was having a drunken meltdown. Threw up everywhere. I just finished cleaning up.] Soon after, the anonymous post was updated again with a gushing account of their “wedding night.” [After tonight, I have no regrets. I will stand on that stage with you, as her maid of honor. And I will wish you—both of you—a lifetime of happiness!] The words and pictures made my stomach churn with nausea, but the comment section was a sea of sympathy. [Ugh, I can’t even imagine how painful that is. Watching the man you love marry your best friend, and you have to stand there smiling and congratulating them.] [I think the guy needs to grow a spine, call off the other engagement, and marry the poster.] [Maybe the other woman is a real piece of work. Maybe the poster and the guy are scared of what she’d do.] [I hate people who force things. You can’t force love. And the poster puts her first, but all she cares about is herself.] Without knowing a single fact, they had judged and sentenced me, casting me as the story’s villain. But why? When Seraphina’s father was implicated in a major political scandal, it was my dad who pulled every string he had, who worked tirelessly to find evidence and clear his name. That was the darkest period of her life. I brought her into our home, shared my bed with her, comforted her, and relayed every piece of good news from my father the second I heard it. Andrew even complained that I was ignoring him for her. “Can you get your priorities straight? Do you see what’s happening right now?” I’d snapped at him, sending him away. Afterwards, she had clung to me, sobbing. “Elara… you’re too good to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. If Andrew ever dares to treat you badly, I’ll be the first one to make him pay.” Twenty years of friendship. Two completely different faces. Her words were all blessings and surrender, but her actions were a knife in my back. My heart turned to ice. The next day, I went to the bridal studio. “Why are there two diamonds missing here?” I asked, running my finger over the train. The staff exchanged nervous glances. Finally, a young assistant stepped forward. “Mr. Thorne said… he said the design looked better this way,” she stammered. I called Andrew on the spot and told him to come down. When he arrived, he looked at the dress, and I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Elara? Why did you come by yourself?” “There are two diamonds missing. They said it was your idea.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Oh, right. Yes. I thought it looked cleaner this way. A little more minimalist. Too many stones felt cluttered.” “And you didn’t think to mention this to me?” “It was Sera—” He caught himself, cutting the name short. 3 “Elara, are you angry?” I shook my head. “No. I just think it’s a bad omen. Doesn’t this count as… damaged?” “Of course not!” he said, his voice a little too loud, before softening it again. “Elara, don’t overthink it. The wedding is just around the corner. We’re about to be husband and wife, for real. Aren’t you happy?” I stroked the silk of the gown, not answering him. It didn’t matter how much love I had poured into this dress. It was used. Tainted. I could never wear it now. As the wedding date drew closer, Seraphina’s secret account became more active, posting a series called “Wedding Countdown.” Countdown: 5 Days. [He made me my favorite breakfast sandwich today. She’s never even had one he’s made. If I can’t be his only one, at least I can be his first.] The accompanying photo was of Andrew in our kitchen, wearing an apron, his back to the camera. I’d asked him to cook for me once. He’d refused, laughing. “Your delicate palate can’t be subjected to my culinary disasters.” Countdown: 4 Days. [He gave her the title, but he gave me the forever promise ring—the one you can only ever buy for one person. With this token, you’ll find me in our next life.] The photo was a close-up of Andrew kissing a diamond ring on her ring finger. Even with his face blurred, the tenderness was unmistakable. [I can’t take this anymore. Just get together, please! We’ll start a petition begging the other girl to let you go!] [Sign me up!] [Me too!] Her reply: [She loves him so much too. I can’t bear to hurt her, not after all our years of friendship.] [But she’s hurting you, sweetie! The one who benefits from the situation and stays silent is part of the problem! She’s not innocent!] [Exactly! If she won’t back down, we’ll crowdfund to… take care of her. Ugh, don’t judge me for being vicious, I just can’t stand seeing such a wonderful girl be so unhappy.] (Author liked this comment) [I’m with you on that one.] Reading the comments, I felt like I was plunging into an icy abyss. If they were truly in love, they could have just told me. It would have hurt, yes, but I would have understood. I would have stepped aside with grace. But they chose this. This cheap, vicious, backstabbing performance. Calmly, I saved everything. Scrolling further back, I realized Andrew had been with her three years ago, during her supposed solo trip around the world. Her photos often featured the blurred edge of a man’s shoulder, or his reflection in her sunglasses. There were videos shot from a “boyfriend’s perspective.” At the time, she’d told me love wasn’t important to her; she craved freedom. Those men were just fellow travelers she’d met along the way. During that same period, Andrew was on assignment at his company’s Northern European branch. I had been so blind. Three years, and I never suspected a thing. If it weren’t for the algorithm pushing her secret account onto my feed… Countdown: 3 Days. We were at the event planner’s office, finalizing the last details. Andrew glanced at his phone, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “Elara, I’m going to have to leave you to handle this.” “I need to run back to the office for something urgent.” Before I could respond, he was already walking away, a spring in his step. “Andrew!” He turned back, a look of mild confusion on his face. “It’s three days away. There are details you need to know. I can’t do this all by myself.” He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. “You got this. Just sync me up later.” Perhaps Andrew had forgotten. Years ago, when his family was transitioning from politics to business, they made enemies. One night, sensing danger, he grabbed my hand and we ran, sprinting through the endless dark. A gut feeling made me glance back. I saw a man raising a gun. In that split second, without thinking, I threw myself in front of Andrew. Luckily, the man was a poor shot. The bullet only hit my shoulder blade. But the pain, a searing, bone-deep agony, is something I will never forget. 4 Through a haze of pain, I saw Andrew’s face, twisted in a mask of primal terror and rage. Later, in the hospital room, in front of both our parents, he knelt by my bed and swore an oath. He would marry no one but me. “Elara,” he’d whispered, his voice trembling, “you have no idea how scared I was. If I had lost you… I don’t think I could have lived.” For months after, he woke up from nightmares, screaming, dreaming of me lying lifeless in a pool of blood. Even after the best care, the wound left a scar and lingering nerve damage. On rainy days, it still aches with a phantom, needle-like pain. It was a permanent reminder that I had once thrown myself in front of death for a man named Andrew Thorne. I thought seeing them for who they truly were would numb me to the pain. But as the memories flooded back, I found myself shaking with sobs under my covers, the old wound in my shoulder throbbing in sympathy. Seraphina’s countdown continued. Day 3. [I know they’re going over wedding details right now. The thought of what will happen in three days is killing me. But I never imagined… I said one word and he dropped everything to come be with me.] The attached image was a screenshot of her chat with him. [I have a new present for you. Want to come see it now? 😉 ] The comments section remained a baffling chorus of support. [Ooooh, what’s the present? I’m dying to know!] [She is so selfless. She gives every beautiful part of herself to the man she loves.] [I get it. As the wedding gets closer, she’s in agony. But her sense of loyalty and morality keeps her from acting. All she can do is pour her love into him, to make his body remember her forever—remember the girl who gave him everything so selflessly.] The comment was pinned to the top. Just then, my phone rang. It was Andrew. “Elara… I have to go out of town for the next two days, to the next city over. I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to handle the final wedding prep.” He sounded slightly out of breath. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be back the day before the ceremony.” My voice was a dead calm. “Is it that important? More important than our wedding?” I heard him let out a soft grunt. “I’m sorry, Elara. If I could get out of it, I would… I wouldn’t be telling you this at the last minute.” The line went dead. I sat perfectly still, waiting. The post updated. [He called her while we were in the middle of it~] [From now on, every time he talks to her on the phone, I want him to remember me. Right now.] As always, the post was met with a wave of sympathy and misplaced admiration. For the next two days, they had their final, frantic farewell in the Hamptons, calling each other husband and wife. Once I had organized all the evidence, I showed my parents everything. My father’s face was grim. “Go, Elara. Take a trip. Clear your head. Leave the rest to me.” The wedding day arrived. As guests began to file in, I was boarding a flight. Andrew and Seraphina arrived separately, but close together. A smudge of bright red lipstick was clearly visible on the corner of Andrew’s mouth. His mother, Amelia, laughed. “There you are! I was wondering where you’d gone. Couldn’t wait, could you? Had to go bother Elara right before the ceremony. Go on, wipe your face before you embarrass us.” Andrew finally registered that he hadn’t seen Elara in what felt like forever. She must be in the bridal suite, waiting for her grand entrance. The thought brought a genuine smile to his face. The guests were all seated. The officiant began his opening remarks. Andrew’s eyelid began to twitch. Something felt wrong. He exchanged a nervous glance with an equally guilty-looking Seraphina. Seeing my parents, stoic and composed in the front row, calmed him slightly. The officiant repeated his cue for the bride three times. She never appeared. The large screen behind the altar, which had been cycling through a slideshow of Andrew and Elara’s happiest moments, suddenly went black. When it flickered back to life, it wasn’t a photo. It was a PowerPoint presentation. It showed screenshots of Seraphina’s posts, her comment interactions, the pixelated photos with Andrew, the suggestive pictures from their “wedding night,” the secret church ceremony… The final slide was the comment about crowdfunding to have me “taken care of,” the one she had personally “liked.” It was blown up to fill the entire screen.

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The new assistant was suffering from cramps. My aloof, aristocratic husband made her a special ginger-honey tea, and I immediately asked for a divorce. “Over a cup of tea?” Arthur Trainor looked at me, incredulous. “Yes.” “Fine,” he sneered, his jaw tight. “Just don’t come crying back to me.” Arthur and I were each other’s first love. We got together in high school; he was my entire world, the landscape of my youth. So he was certain I could never leave him. But the truth was, the tea was just the final straw. The evidence of his fading love was hidden in every corner of our lives. He saw me as a clinging vine, dependent on his support. He had no idea I was the mighty oak that had been shielding him from the storm all along. 1 “You want to divorce me over a cup of ginger-honey tea?” Arthur looked up from behind his massive mahogany desk, his dark brows arching in disbelief. “Is that really necessary?” I gave a firm nod. “Let’s just do it.” He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms over his chest. A smirk played on his lips. “This has to be the ninety-ninth time you’ve brought this up.” I froze. Had I really given him that many chances? The smirk widened. “Ever heard the story of the boy who cried wolf? After a while, the threats lose their power. Just admit it, Sloane. You can’t live without me.” Just then, a soft knock came from the door and Chloe, his assistant, walked in. A man’s business jacket was draped over her arm. I recognized it instantly as Arthur’s. In the years we’d been married, I’d chosen everything for him—his suits, his ties, his cufflinks, his watches. I even picked out his socks and underwear. I knew his wardrobe better than he did. “Mr. Trainor, I came to return your jacket. Thank you… for yesterday.” “Don’t mention it,” Arthur said coolly. He glanced at me, then turned his attention back to her. “Feeling better?” In the past, hearing him show such concern for another woman would have sent a spike of jealousy through me. I would have demanded to know if he had a thing for the new girl. But after so many times, he was tired of my questions, and I was tired of asking them. So I simply turned to leave, giving them the privacy to continue their little moment of office tenderness. But I didn’t expect Chloe to call out to me. “Mrs. Trainor, please don’t misunderstand! Nothing happened. Mr. Trainor just lent me his jacket yesterday because… I got my period and it stained my skirt. He was just being kind.” I couldn’t help it. I spun back around to face her. “Which one of your ears heard me accuse him of cheating? Is this how you stir up trouble between your boss and his wife?” I took a step closer. “And another thing. My mother didn’t give me a sister. My name is Sloane.” Chloe flinched, her eyes widening as if my sharp tone had physically struck her. They immediately welled with tears, turning her into the very picture of a startled rabbit. “Sloane!” Arthur shot up from his chair. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Chloe, his voice lashing out at me. “How old are you? Why are you picking on a girl half your age? Does it make you feel powerful, bullying someone fresh out of college?” Chloe kept her head down, fat tears splashing onto the handkerchief as she sobbed. “Mr. Trainor, please don’t be angry. It was my fault, I said the wrong thing. I’ll apologize to Mrs. Trainor.” She turned to me and bowed deeply. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Trainor.” Arthur pulled her upright, his gaze turning icy as he fixed it on me. “That’s enough, Sloane. How many times have I told you not to come in here acting like you own the place?” 2 Out of the corner of my eye, in a place Arthur couldn’t see, Chloe’s lips curved into a triumphant little smirk. A bitter laugh almost escaped me. This assistant, who had been at the company for a mere three months, had so completely stolen the trust of the man I’d been married to for five years. I looked up at Arthur’s handsome, refined face. “Are you deaf? I just asked her to use my name. She’s the one insisting on calling me ‘Mrs. Trainor.’ What does that have to do with me?” Without waiting for an answer, I turned and stormed out, slamming the office door behind me. Back home, I immediately called my lawyer and asked him to draft the divorce papers. While I waited, a message popped up from my best friend, Olivia. It was a screenshot of Chloe’s latest social media post. Olivia had been a secretarial major, and after graduating, I’d helped her get a job at Trainor Industries. Now she was the lead executive administrator—Chloe’s direct supervisor. Chloe’s post read: “That time of the month has me feeling so down, but someone special made me this amazing turmeric-collagen latte to cheer me up! So warm and comforting. It feels so good to be taken care of!” The picture was of a man’s hand holding out a steaming mug to her. On that hand was a wedding band. Our wedding band. There was no mistaking whose hand it was. Just then, my phone buzzed with a new text from Arthur. “The housekeeper said you have the sniffles. Take some aspirin and drink plenty of fluids.” A artisanal latte for another woman’s cramps, and a clinical “drink plenty of fluids” for me. I gripped my phone, staring at the empty chat window as a profound coldness settled deep in my bones. From eighteen to twenty-eight, I had come to know Arthur Trainor inside and out. He was not a meddler. He would never go out of his way for a new assistant without a reason. This was real. He had feelings for her. It would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt. The helplessness of watching the man you love fall for someone else, right before your eyes, was tearing me apart. That night, my sleep was fitful and haunted. When I woke up, my pillow was damp, and my eyes were swollen shut. I splashed cold water on my face, put on a pair of dark sunglasses, and drove to the nursing home. I pushed my father’s wheelchair out onto the lawn. For the first time, we had a truly honest conversation. The old man sat there, smoking, glancing at me from time to time. “What’s with the sunglasses? Did that Trainor kid hit you?” I shook my head and cut straight to the point. “I’m divorcing Arthur.” My dad chuckled like I’d told him a joke, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. “When’s it happening? Need me to call some guys to help you move your stuff?” I shook my head again and pulled a bank card from my pocket, pressing it into his hand. “Take this. I might not be able to visit for a while.” The weight of the card in his hand seemed to finally convince him I was serious. He stared at me, dumbfounded, and it wasn’t until I was already walking away that he called out, his voice laced with confusion. “Wait, you’re really doing it? Where are you gonna find someone better than him?” 3 He was right. Everyone thought Arthur was the ultimate catch, the best I could ever hope for. He had the education, the family background, the looks. But they had all forgotten. They forgot that I, too, had graduated from a top university with a degree in a highly competitive field. They forgot that I was the one they called a prodigy, the “genius girl of the AI world” who had skipped three grades. While I was still a sophomore in college, I had already filed for multiple AI patents. Before I even graduated, I had founded Nexus AI, one of the country’s leading tech firms, with a few of my seniors and juniors. I still held sixty percent of the company’s shares. You don’t marry into a dynasty like the Trainors with a gambling, half-paralyzed father and a sweet, naive persona. On the drive home, Olivia called. “High school reunion tonight. You coming?” We had all gone to the same local high school, and our old clique made a point to get together every year. Since I was leaving, it felt right to say a proper goodbye. I agreed to go. At 8:30 PM, I arrived at The Monarch Club and found my way to Suite 603. The usual teasing started immediately. Where was Arthur? Why hadn’t he come with me? Someone chimed in, “Arthur Trainor is a busy man. Has he ever shown up to one of these things?” Suddenly, a woman in the corner snorted. “Who says he’s not here? I just saw him in the suite next door, running interference for some young girl, blocking drinks for her.” Her eyes, sharp and malicious, found mine. “Sloane, is your husband cheating on you? Are you finally losing your crown?” I recognized her immediately. Jenna. The perpetual second-best who had lived in my shadow all through high school. She’d confessed her feelings to Arthur once, right before he and I got together. He chose me, and she’d held a grudge ever since, convinced I had stolen him from her. This was the moment she had been waiting for. The others jumped to my defense. “No way. Arthur loves Sloane. Every man in the world could cheat, but not him.” “I don’t believe it either. Do you remember the grand gestures he made to win her over? When Sloane had that car accident, he cried his eyes out.” “And when his parents cut him off for dating her, he worked at a burger joint for a month just to buy her a birthday present.” They recounted all the ways Arthur had once shown his love for me, forcing a painful montage of memories to flash before my eyes. They refused to believe Jenna, pushing her until she slammed her hands on the table and stood up. “If you don’t believe me, come with me to the suite next door and see for yourselves!” “Fine, we will! We’re not scared of you!” “Come on, Sloane, let’s go shut her up!” Someone grabbed my arm, trying to pull me along. But I couldn’t move. Because I knew. I knew that what Jenna was saying was entirely possible. Olivia was about to intervene, to smooth things over, but Jenna saw my hesitation and crossed her arms, her voice dripping with scorn. “What’s the matter, Sloane? Scared?” “I always said that women like you, who have to fight and claw for everything, would lose it all one day. You were always destined to end up as nothing.” As she spoke, the door to our suite swung open. 4 Standing in the doorway was Arthur. And right behind him was his little assistant, Chloe. “Heard you guys were next door. Just wanted to stop by and say hello,” Arthur announced smoothly. “Have fun tonight, honey. The bill for this room is on me.” I glanced at Olivia, who gave her phone a little shake, silently telling me she’d texted him to come and save the day. My classmates erupted in cheers. “See? And some people were saying Sloane got dumped. Open your eyes. They’re as happy as ever.” Jenna’s face was red, but she couldn’t say a word. But then, Chloe tugged gently on Arthur’s sleeve. “Mr. Trainor, are these all your high school friends? I’d love to meet them.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur draped his arm around Chloe’s shoulders and began introducing her to every single person in the room. The atmosphere in the suite instantly froze. It felt like I had been slapped across the face. I stood there, rooted to the spot, utterly humiliated. Jenna, who had been silenced just moments before, leaned in close, her voice a triumphant whisper in my ear. “I’ve never seen a boss so obedient to his assistant. Introducing his old friends to her, right in front of his wife. Looks like someone’s about to steal your title, Mrs. Trainor.” I couldn’t stand another second of it. I turned to leave. But Chloe’s eyes welled with tears as she turned to Arthur. “Is she angry with me? I just wanted to get to know your friends. I didn’t mean any harm…” The next second, Arthur’s voice cut through the silence. “Sloane, don’t throw a tantrum.” I stopped, but I didn’t turn back. Seeing her chance, Chloe grabbed a bottle of tequila from the table, poured a shot, and walked over to me. “Please don’t be angry, Mrs. Trainor. If I did something wrong, I’ll take this as punishment, okay?” She tilted her head back and downed the shot in one go, then grabbed my hand. “There. It’s done. Can you stay now? If you leave, people will think I’m Mr. Trainor’s mistress. Even if you don’t care about me, you should at least think of his reputation.” I yanked my hand away. But as I did, Chloe stumbled backward as if I’d shoved her with all my might. She crashed into the dining cart behind her, sending plates and glasses shattering to the floor. Soup and wine splattered against the wall. She fell into the mess, her palm landing directly on a shard of broken porcelain. Blood welled up instantly. “Ah!” Arthur’s eyes flashed. Forgetting we were in a room full of people, he rushed to her side, pulling out his handkerchief to wrap her bleeding hand. He turned on me, his voice sharp with fury. “Sloane, when did you become so vicious? I’ve spoiled you, that’s the problem. It’s time you learned a lesson.” He pulled out his phone and dialed his most trusted executive assistant. “Freeze all of my wife’s bank cards. Now. Yes, every single one. Don’t leave her a dime.” From the other end, a respectful “Yes, sir,” could be heard. Just then, the club manager and a waiter entered, taking in the scene of destruction. The manager presented a bill. “The suite rental, plus damages, comes to a total of twenty-eight thousand dollars. Who will be settling the bill?” A cruel smile touched Arthur’s lips as he pointed a finger at me. “She made the mess. She can pay for it.”

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My mother taught me from a young age that a woman’s body, once sullied, should be thrown away like trash. So when my wife, on the day of our tenth anniversary, abandoned me and a hall full of guests because of a hotel invitation “mistakenly” sent by a young man, I didn’t stop her. I simply smiled, tore the thirty-thousand-word letter of promises she had written for me into confetti, and made two announcements. First, we were moving the party to the hotel. Second, the young man’s parents and friends were now the evening’s guests of honor. … When our large, righteous crowd arrived outside the door of the presidential suite, the sounds from within were unmistakable. The raw sounds of their passion, punctuated by the young man Leo’s breathless, high-pitched cries of “Mommy,” echoed down the hotel corridor. The sound silenced everyone, and a cold sweat broke out on their backs. Leo’s actual mother, standing beside me, looked as if she’d been struck by lightning. At the sound of her son’s cries, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted dead away. Believing that such joy shouldn’t be kept to myself, I gave my assistant a subtle nod. In an instant, the heated scene inside the room was being broadcast live, streamed across every major news outlet and social media platform. The wedding of a titan of industry already had immense public interest. Add a live-streamed infidelity drama, and the viewership exploded. I immediately signed a dozen impromptu advertising deals, making a fortune in minutes. If I couldn’t keep the tainted woman, I might as well profit from her passionate performance. It was only fair, wasn’t it? “Mommy, am I making you happy? Am I so much more fun than that old man?” the boy’s panting voice asked. His question was answered by my wife, Isabella’s, even more enthusiastic response. While the temperature inside the room continued to climb, the atmosphere outside plunged to absolute zero. I watched the live stream revenue tick upwards, feeling no rush to knock. It was Leo’s mother, revived and frantic, who was clawing at the door like a caged animal. Thirty minutes later, through the haze of their frenzy, they finally heard her desperate pounding. The moment the door opened, the world exploded in a sea of flashbulbs. Isabella, seeing the army of cameras, froze for only a second. Her first instinct was not to cover her own body, which was a canvas of red marks, but to whip the bedsheet off the mattress and wrap it around the naked, trembling form of Leo. Once the boy was secured, she stormed towards me. There was no shame in her eyes, no guilt in her voice—only a raw, impotent fury. “Adrian Vance, are you insane? Are you trying to ruin him?” she shrieked. “He’s only twenty! How is he supposed to live his life after this? I’m warning you, get rid of these people right now and post a video clarifying this was all a misunderstanding. If you don’t, I will make you regret it.” I had to laugh. I had made the mistake of treating a dog like a person, and now it thought it had the right to bark orders at me. I kicked her aside and walked directly to the boy. I gestured for my bodyguards to rip the sheet off him. Before they could move, Leo scrambled onto the windowsill, screaming through his tears. “Adrian, brother, it was an accident! I meant to send that text to my friends, I sent it to Isabella by mistake! She was just being kind, helping me get through a tough time! Why are you trying to destroy me for it?” His shivering, sheet-clad figure was a picture of pathetic misery. Murmurs started to ripple through the crowd. “Isn’t Adrian Vance being a little too harsh? The kid’s just a boy.” “Yeah, what if he actually jumps?” Isabella was in a panic, not daring to get closer to the window. “Leo, don’t! You did nothing wrong! Adrian is the one at fault! Don’t do anything foolish!” she pleaded. I watched their heartfelt drama, raising an eyebrow. I walked over to the boy, placed a finger to my lips to silence his pathetic whining, and then, before anyone could react, I gave him a gentle push. His terrified scream echoed as he plummeted from the hundred-meter-high ledge. The crowd gasped, their eyes wide with disbelief. Isabella flew at me, her hands clamping around my throat like a vice. The veins in my neck bulged, and my breath thinned to a razor’s edge. My bodyguards surged forward, but I waved them off. Isabella’s eyes were bloodshot, boring into mine as if willing me to die and join Leo in hell. A dry, rasping laugh escaped my throat. Suddenly, this all felt so pointless. The last time I had seen such ferocity in her eyes was years ago, when one of my father’s old enemies had cornered me. She had thrown herself in front of me without a second thought, grabbing the hand that held the knife. With that same savage expression, she had guided the blade into her own body, again and again, until the food in her stomach mixed with the blood that poured out of her. A waterfall of crimson had flowed down her chest. The attacker, horrified, had turned and fled. Before the ambulance took her away, she had pressed her cold, sweaty forehead against mine, her gaze unwavering. “Adrian,” she’d sworn, “as long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you.” But now, to protect her boy, she stood on the opposite side, ready to kill me herself. “He’s okay! He’s okay, he’s alive!” shouts from below broke through my thoughts. Everyone looked down and saw a wide maintenance platform just a few stories below the window. Leo had never intended to jump. Isabella released me, her face flooded with the joyous relief of someone who had just survived a catastrophe. She scrambled to the edge, then rushed down the stairs to get to him, pulling his trembling body into a fierce embrace. “Don’t be afraid, Leo. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” The same words. It had only been a few short years, and now she was saying them to someone else. Fine. A cheap promise is the last thing worth holding onto. I walked over to them. Isabella instinctively shielded Leo behind her, another painfully familiar tableau. I drew the tactical knife from my bodyguard’s belt and advanced with a smirk. Isabella’s own security team moved to protect her, but she waved them away with a sharp command. Using every ounce of strength I possessed, mimicking the pressure I had just felt on my own neck, I drove the blade deep into her chest, right where her heart should be. I twisted it. Once again, I watched blood gush from her body, but this time, I felt none of the old pain. She gripped my hand, pushing the knife in deeper, her expression defiant. “Are you satisfied, Adrian? I’ll take the blame for my mistakes,” she gasped. “But I will never forgive what you did to Leo today.” I paused in the act of wiping my bloody hand on a handkerchief and tossed it onto the boy’s pathetic, naked form. “Is that so?” I sneered. “I look forward to it.” I turned to Leo, patting his cheek. “The next time you provoke me, I’ll make sure you get to experience what a fall from a hundred meters really feels like.” I just never imagined that Isabella’s revenge would involve our child. When I burst into the hospital, the first thing I saw was Leo holding my son high in the air. The baby’s heart-wrenching screams tore through me, twisting my insides into knots. Isabella just stood there, watching, her face a blank mask. “Isabella, are you insane? That’s your child too!” I stared at her, unable to comprehend. Her expression remained cold. “I told you Leo was my line. Why did you have to cross it? Get on your knees and apologize to him. Then post a video confessing that the hotel scandal was a lie you invented. Do that, and I’ll give you back the child.” My body shook with uncontrollable rage. Leo, holding my son, chuckled. “Isabella, didn’t you read that an infant’s brain is as soft as tofu? I wonder what would happen if I just… gave him a little shake?” He started to violently shake the baby. My son’s cries intensified, piercing the air. My heart shattered. “Don’t touch him! I’ll kneel! I’m begging you, please, don’t hurt the baby!” I choked out, my voice breaking. “He’s so fragile. He can’t take it.” I slammed my knees onto the hard floor, begging for a shred of their humanity. Leo started a live stream, broadcasting my humiliation to the world. Millions of viewers poured in instantly. For three hours, I knelt and kowtowed, confessing that I was a madman who had slandered my wife and the student she sponsored. A tidal wave of abuse and insults washed over me from the live chat. When it was over, I stared at Leo, my eyes burning. “Are you satisfied now? Give me back my son!” Leo finally smiled, turning off the phone. Then, with lightning speed, he lifted my son high one last time and smashed him onto the ground. The crying stopped. The world went silent. I collapsed, my strength gone. Isabella seemed surprised for a moment, but her composure quickly returned. I roared and lunged forward, but her bodyguards held me back. Leo calmly wiped his hands with a wet wipe and tossed it in the trash. He looked at my son’s twitching body on the floor and snarled, “With a scum for a father, you deserved to die!” He then picked up my child, forcing his eyes—so much like mine—to look at me. “Don’t blame me, little guy. Blame your daddy. He’s the one who killed you.” Isabella came to my side, her arm wrapping around my shoulders. “The child was always sickly. It would have ended this way sooner or later. This is what you owed Leo.” I couldn’t believe those words came from her mouth. We had struggled for years to have him. After an injury early in our marriage, doctors said it would be nearly impossible for me to have children. But Isabella loved children, so I had endured years of treatments, diets, and bitter medicines. Finally, we had our son. The labor had lasted two days and one night. I had been there for all of it. The pain she went through… after he was born, I had a vasectomy. I never wanted her to suffer like that again. He was our one and only. But now, she didn’t even glance at the body. She just covered him with a cloth, as if he were a toy to be discarded. I shoved her away and snatched my son from her. She grabbed me, one arm locking around my waist, the other pinning my torso. I bit down on her hand, hard. In the struggle, my son coughed, a tiny, faint sound. “He’s not dead! My son is not dead!” I fought free and sprinted for the doctor’s office, clutching him to my chest. My fingers were just about to touch the doorknob when Isabella struck me from behind. A blow to the head. As I fell, my son slipped from my grasp. The last thing I saw before darkness took me was his tiny body hitting the floor, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. When I woke up, I was back in our home. I demanded to know where my son was. My men hesitated. “Miss Isabella… she took the young master to Mr. Leo’s university.” “She said Mr. Leo’s anatomy class was in need of an infant specimen for practice.” A roar filled my ears. I gritted my teeth. “Say that again.” “She’s… she’s letting Mr. Leo dissect the young master.” I hurled the bowl of medicine against the wall. It shattered, the dark liquid splashing everywhere. “Get the car. We’re going to the university.” Ten minutes later, I stood in the doorway of the anatomy lab. My son was on a steel table, surrounded by a dozen students, including Leo. His small body had already been dismembered. The little bundle who just yesterday could laugh and cry and call me “Dada” was now a heap of bloody flesh. His eyes, his intestines, lay scattered across the surgical tray. Leo saw me and beamed, pulling off his gloves. He held up a photo. “Brother, I have good news! Isabella is pregnant! Look, here’s the ultrasound of my baby. Isn’t he cute?” He took Isabella’s hand and placed it on her flat stomach. “Isabella, honey, I think he just kicked.” Isabella immediately told him to kneel down and press his ear to her belly to listen. Watching them, I started to laugh, a wild, unhinged sound. I drew my pistol and fired a shot that grazed Leo’s side, just a fraction of an inch from his abdomen. “Ah!” He doubled over, scrambling behind Isabella. She finally turned and saw me. “Adrian, have you lost your mind!” she screamed. I didn’t speak. I just kept walking towards them. I racked the slide. Another shot, this one on the other side of his stomach. As I advanced on Isabella, Leo threw himself at my feet, clinging to my legs. “Adrian, as long as I’m alive, I will never let you hurt her.” I was about to kick him away when he suddenly recoiled dramatically, clutching his stomach and crying out in pain. “Brother, are you blaming me for your son’s death?” he wailed. “It was your fault he was so weak in the first place! I was just ending his suffering! If you can’t stand the thought of Isabella having my baby, if you want her to be barren, just tell her to get an abortion! You don’t have to torture me like this! I can’t take it!” He curled into a ball, trembling as if in terror. His pathetic acting was so bad it was comical. Isabella shielded him protectively. “Adrian, you are the one most responsible for our son’s death,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “It was because of you, his useless father, that he suffered so much. You should be the one to die to atone for your sins.” She knew how guilty I felt about our son’s fragile health, and she used it as a weapon, twisting the knife. From behind her, Leo added, “The day your son died was the day Isabella got pregnant with mine. It’s a sign. Even he knew you weren’t worthy of being his father, so he came back to her womb to be with a better one.” I laughed, grabbing his chin and forcing his head up. My eyes were venomous. “Or maybe,” I whispered, “he came back to her womb to claim a life for me.” I pressed the muzzle of the gun against Leo’s groin and pulled the trigger. His shriek of agony echoed through the lab. Ignoring Isabella’s screams, I yanked him up by his hair, pointing the gun at the bloody ruin between his legs. “There, little brother. I’ve eliminated the problem for you. Aren’t you going to thank me? This is what it looks like when I can’t stand you. I don’t bother with your pathetic little traps and schemes.” The next second, a gunshot cracked, and a bullet seared past my ear. Blood trickled down my neck. I followed the trajectory back to its source, my gaze locking on Isabella. My world narrowed to a single point of madness. “Isabella. You shot at me?” Her eyes were blazing. “I warned you, Adrian. He’s just a boy. Leave him alone. You forced me to do this.” Leo was howling on the floor. “Isabella, he destroyed our chances of having a family! Kill him! Avenge our child!” Before she could answer, I smirked down at him. “Forget revenge. If you don’t get to an operating room right now, you’ll never have a child with anyone.” His wailing stopped instantly, replaced by a fresh torrent of silent, fat tears. Isabella’s face softened with pity. She helped him up and rushed him towards the exit, pausing only to throw one last threat over her shoulder. “I told you, Adrian. You will pay for this.”

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