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

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

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

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

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

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

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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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